#snoozy.writes

The first time was an accident. The two of you were busy studying in your room, with Levi occupying your desk and you on your bed with your laptop, typing out an essay. You had asked him to proofread a particularly difficult section on the assignment.

However, instead of taking the laptop you offer him back to the desk, he moved next to you on the bed. Close, thighs touching. He smelt of fresh linens and the faint scent of earl grey. 

That had sent your system into haywire, your heart taking on a tumultuous pace. As he turned to face you, no doubt with thoughts about your essay, you blurted out the first thing that never fails to come to mind when you see him. 

"I want to kiss you." 

Your words had manifested into a strangled kind of sound, something akin to a squawk. Levi had looked shocked for a second, eyes wide, making you wonder if he even knew what you had said.

And then he did. Kiss you. Nearly with no time between the words at all, as if he had been waiting for you all along, Levi kissed you. It was better than what you had imagined.

Then, it spiraled into kissing him in other places. 

Fast-forward three weeks after leaping over that line of friendship, you have been thinking of him everyday, which only exacerbates that pesky crush you had on him in the first place that began years ago. 

Bent over his desk, nails digging into the plastic wood as he takes you from behind, you think about how you would like to hold his hand and do more than fuck and study. This is the third time today alone you've thought about wanting something more from him, when this was just casual. 

You're his friend. You have evidence. He's begrudgingly introduced you to people as his best friend many times before and after this thing between you. You still do friendship film nights where you make fun of his weird philosophical horror, and he pokes your cheek with his index finger to distract you from the tears your shed at the end of your rom-coms. 

Levi bends to attach his lips to your shoulder, thrusts slowing but hitting you deeper than before. It's delicious. You moan lightly as his teeth scrape across the skin.

God, you hope he leaves a mark. You need him to. He bites down harder as if he heard every word. His name tumbles from your lips loudly in pleasure. A hand moves to smooth your hair out of the way, he presses his mouth against the free space of your neck. You pretend it's a promise to litter you with marks all over when he has some time to dedicate to you later, and not just something that makes your cunt squeeze around him so he can get off quicker and then leave to meet with Erwin or something to do … whatever. 

"Just what are you thinking about, mmh?" Levi breathes into your ear.

"Y-you," your reply nearly gets lost when Levi kisses you again, tongue licking into the cavern of your mouth, "Just thinking of you," you pant when the two of you part for air. 

He thrusts into you a few more times before his eyes narrow. He pulls out of you, still hot and hard. You hiss at the loss of him, empty.

What is he thinking? You can never tell.

"Levi, what the fuck—"

"Bed, c'mon. If we keep at it like this, your back is going to give out," he pulls you by the wrist, oddly gentle. Your back is fine — mostly. His eyes remind you of pencil lead when he looks at you so intently like this, "unless you don't feel like it." 

You shrug, "It's your bed." 

"I-Yeah, fine."

You think he wants to say more, but he's pushing your back into the bed and settling between your thighs before you get the chance to ask. 

"Bend your knees for me."

You almost cave from his voice alone, husky in a way that makes you want to hear him wake in the morning and whisper out your name. He kisses and sucks at the flesh of your inner thigh. Your breathe hitches, but you reach down and tap his cheek to get his attention. He looks up and the sight makes you want to cry. He's flushed, wearing the most ridiculously pretty shade of pink across his cheeks and nose. 

"You're not eating me out again are you?" You ask curiously, ignoring the way your pulse is hammering at the door of your ribs, wondering when you're going to stop being such a coward and ask for more, " You seriously don't have to." 

His fingers find their home between your thighs, gathering the wetness and pressing against your clit. A burst of heat runs through you. 

"Clearly the first time wasn't enough. I … I want you to feel good." 

"I also felt good when you were hitting it from the back though —" You cut yourself off with soft groan as he inserts a finger into you, prodding that sensitive spot inside you. 

"Then that wasn't good enough. You—" he chooses he next words thoughtfully, "—you weren't with me. You were thinking of something else." He dips his head to suck lightly at your nub. The fact that his eyes are glued to you makes your face heat. He catches every crease of your brow and twist of your mouth. 

"You're too sweet to me, Levi." 

His voice is muffled, but your hear it anyway, "You're the sweet one," over the sound of him plugging up your pussy with his fingers and tongue, "so pretty like this. All you have to do it take it, alright?" He sighs in delight the moment you thread your fingers through his hair. He dives down to lap up all the slick you leak out. 

Your core vibrates with need, "Yes-yes, Levi, please." 

Fuck! If only this blasted headache stopped making things spin every time he stands, then maybe Levi would be able to take more than three steps away from his bed. His head feels as if it's been loaded with gunpowder and detonated. The ringing in his ears refuses to cease, even as he lays back down. He thinks of thunder-spears and fire and—

Levi wheezes as he breathes, which prompts a series of unstoppable coughs. It's phlegm-filled and revolting. He feels around for some tissues on his bedside table to spit out whatever muck he's just hacked up. He inhales deeply and slowly after, in an effort to reset his stuffy chest. Blearily, he hears movement from the room next door — your room. Well, if you weren't awake before, you sure are now.

It's going to be your first proper day with Levi (just you and him in this barely-stable post-war world until you tire of him) and he can't even get out of bed. Goddamn it. Even though the two of you were the last vets of the Scouts and were always close, you had never visited before, too busy gallivanting around the globe with the 104th, working with them, watching them step closer and closer to peace with every diplomatic mission. Then, you grew tired and finally felt satisfied enough to step down. You found yourself back by his side again (letters don't suffice — never did — no matter how many black and white pictures you had sent him, he had always wanted a little more). Levi can't complain at your return. He is and will be content with whatever you give him. In the weeks up to your arrival, Levi had made sure everything was perfect. And it was: his cottage is the very definition of clean, tools and sentimentals are ordered neatly on shelves or packed away in cupboards; his spare room is hopefully styled to your liking and smells faintly of rosemary rather than his usual mint, as he knows your preference for the herb. Everything was perfect until this very morning.

You knock gently at his bedroom door. He makes some sort of noise to refuse your entrance. Something caught between a groan and a grunt. The door swings open anyway.

"You're ill," you state after a moment scanning your eyes over him. For once, Levi, this time, dislikes your attention. There's concern etched in the contours of your face. His skin prickles in embarrassment, suddenly conscious that he hasn't ran a comb through his hair or brushed his teeth. More phlegm sticks to the back of his throat. Levi feels as if he's going to choke.

"No."

Your face pinches into strained amusement at his defiance and worry as he croaks. 

"No?" You question, "You must have went extra senile in your sleep then. There's not a way that you're not ill. I should fetch you a doctor."

Levi rubs at his temples. "No- I- Just stop looking at me like that. I know I'm sick, therefore, get out of my room. Don't you dare catch what I have … you're insufferable when you're ill."

"Ah, I understand." You clearly don't. Not only you stay in his room, but you also take a slow step closer, with the same tentativeness as you would show to a wounded animal. "Bet you feel real shitty right now."

"The shittiest," Levi is tempted to bury himself under the sheets to avoid you, but he's too weak to even move anymore. Your hand reaches for his forehead. He has to physically stop himself from leaning into your touch. It's cool and a blessing to his burning skin that he didn't even know was on fire to begin with.

A slurred 'fuck off' exits his mouth. You actually abide by his crude instruction and exit the room with a titter. Levi shuts his eyes, pretending to be completely unaffected by you, ignoring whatever sinking feeling he gets from turning you away. You care too much. He hates being sick, incapacitated. It only worsens the sense of horror he has around disease and rot.

Levi can only recall one other time when he was seriously ill. He was young, and as skinny as the next creature you saw in the Underground, but he was getting by. Much against his wishes, Isabel had stayed by his side for the whole day, throwing out and cleaning up his vomit from a basket, while Farlan hunted down medicine and proper food for Levi to build his strength back up. Levi was fortunate that the illness lasted a day and was not particularly infectious.

Levi coughs like a stuttering engine when you make your return (after a few minutes or an hour later, he can't tell). You come back to him with a mug of steaming tea (because just what else would he drink) and a plate.

You approach him once more, unperturbed by the glare he sends your way. There's two soft clinks of porcelain touching the wood on his bedside.

"Found some things for you," you say while reaching for his forehead again, your touch soothing. He doesn't recall you coming in with a cold compress, but he feels it icily stick against his skin. He tells you to go away, but you pet his hair instead, smoothing the strands and tucking them away into the rest of his hair. Your comfort is dangerously hypnotic.

"You have a fever, Levi. I'm going to pop into town for some medicine and more food. Eat those crackers if you can, that sound good?"

Levi feels his eyes droop. He's so tired. He hums in response. Fine.

"Can't stop you."

You linger for a second more at his side, before getting up and nearing his window. You pull open one half of the curtains, the side furthest from his bed, and open the window.

"I'll shut it when I get back. It's a little stuffy in here," you reason.

"Be safe," he whispers into the air, but you've already made your way out. The air thins and Levi thinks that he can breathe a little easier now.

The next time Levi properly wakes up, everything is basking in the warmth of sunset. As he sits up, the damp flannel falls from his forehead, but he manages to catch it before it hits the floor. Levi is pleased that the sudden movement doesn't immediately trigger his head spontaneously exploding. Just an ache behind his eyes. He can cope with this. 

Levi is quiet as he observes, trying to figure out if he's really been asleep all this time.

A chair is pushed against the right side of his bed with a book about herbs resting on the seat. There's a total of three cups on the table next to his bed, two of them are empty. Levi doesn't remember drinking from any of them. He carefully reaches for the full mug on the table, using both hands to lift the ceramic up. The warmth spreads from his fingertips to his palms. You must've been in here recently. The liquid turns out to be the weakest tea he's ever tasted. He frowns as he looks down; it's not tea at all, it's water. He's a little disgusted with himself as some dribbles down his chin in his eagerness as he drinks, the scratchiness of his throat quelled somewhat.

Levi makes his way out of bed and gasps when he steps too quickly, pain shooting up his leg. He catches himself on his bedroom door, with a thump, his best hand clutching the frame. He's quiet for a second, half expecting you to appear and usher him back. You don't appear, but if he focuses he can hear the bustle of something in the kitchen. Still, Levi limps out of his room slowly enters into the main section of the cottage. 

There's a bunch of groceries strewn across the kitchen table: root vegetables, carrots and such; a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of what looks like fever reducers to name a few. You're at the stove, mumbling something under your breath and stirring a pot of what is probably soup. Your face is needled into a look of concentration as you move to dig through another bag that is rested on a pulled-out chair. Levi wonders about just what exactly you have bought. He wishes he was there by your side as you wandered the market and shopped for everything, he could've shown you who to go to for the better deals. He presses a palm to his forehead in a light smack. His head hurts but his eye focuses on you still. You find another bottle of pills and your brows furrow as you read the label. There's a sigh as you place the bottle down next to the fever reducers and start cleaning up the table, packing the potatoes into a paper bag and turning to the pantry.

"You've been busy," Levi finally rasps. His lips twitch at your reaction. You whip around to look at him the moment your ears pick up sound, like some sort of doe. Shock and confusion grace your features before a look of worry clings onto the straight line of your mouth. You shove the potatoes into a box low down in the pantry and shut the door.

"And you should return back to bed. I'll be there with you soon … the soup is basically all done. And-and how are you feeling Levi? Better? Worse?" In just a few steps, you're standing before him and quick to press your palm against his forehead. He get the inexplicable urge to be bundled into your arms and coddled like some infant. His illness really has got to him.

"You feel better, I think," you mutter. 

"I'm fine," he dutifully sits on the seat you pull out for him. You give him a look that demands him to expand on his condition.

"It's only been a few hours, my head is still shitty though." He coughs as he finishes his sentence, you pass him a tissue without him asking.

"F-few hours?" There's the sound of the ladle scraping the bottom of the pot as you stir the soup one final time and spoon some into a bowl. 

"Has it not been a few hours?"

"Well, it's the next day, Levi."

He blinks, "Alright."

"You really had me worried there for a second Levi, I've never seen you so … " you trail off, eyes glazing over. 

"Weak," he suggests. 

You sigh, fingers tapping before you slip a spoon into the bowl and slide it over to him. "Pale or whatever you want to say. I-I was just a little scared, you know? You were literally refusing to drink any water a few hours into sweating your fever out, and- dehydration- and, before that, when I got back home yesterday you were on the floor. I don't know whatyou were thinking then, or how long you were passed out on the ground." 

You shake your head. Your hands tremble slightly as you unscrew the lid of a bottle and tilt it to coax out two pills. You gesture to him and drop the medicine into his open palm. "You're a stubborn man."

"I'm sorry."

Something flashes across your face. Levi doesn't have the brain power to decipher exactly what it is, all he knows is that it's negative and bitter. 

"Don't be — just take that and eat your soup," a low hum escapes you, " and go back to bed, you need to rest." 

The soup looks good. Hunger suddenly makes itself known in the pit of his stomach. He sighs at the sound, picking up the spoon but not putting it in his mouth yet. 

"I'm filthy, I need to wash if I've been in bed for as long as I have," he groans, "my sheets stink of sweat."

You laugh weakly at his dismay, "I'm surprised you can smell at all. For your peace of mind, personally, I didn't smell anything wrong with your sheets when I was watching over you."

"Don't need to smell to know."

"Tell you what, you take your medicine, eat your soup and take a shower, and I'll change your sheets for you during that time, and then you get back into bed and rest some more for me?" 

"You have to have some too," Levi looks at you pointedly, "Soup. You also need to eat. You look like shit."

There's tangles in your hair and a smudge on your blouse. Levi resists the urge to smooth out the creases and bring his fingers up to pick at the stain. He stifles the overwhelming urge to brush your hair, deeming the whole thing too intimate. In his state, he would probably accidentally tug at your hair. He doesn't want to risk hurting you. 

He's also come to the conclusion that he doesn't really belong in this post-walls, post-war world either. There's no use for his hyper vigilance anymore. Levi gets better at hiding his speeding heart and dropping stomach — not that he wasn't good at hiding himself in the first place, it's just that it's a permanent state of being now. Sometimes he wonders if the ache will ever go away, but then he thinks again, logic outweighing all else, and decides to crush that thought and settles with getting used to it, just like he got used to the soreness of his lower back and leg. 

He used to be Humanity's Strongest Soldier, but how could he have been when humanity turns out to be this big, and he is felled by memory. He hates it. He hates that wine is present at every function he's invited to, a sick Marley custom; he can't smell the stuff without feeling a little ill. God forbid someone forces a glass into his hands — with the insistence to loosen up! — and he has to stand there awkwardly with it, the red colour glinting in mockery. 

However, more time passes, diplomatic meetings & galas want him less, and Levi is still the same.

He sits straight, facing the gathering but not joining just yet. Bile crawls up his throat at the idea of stagnation. The 104th have all changed, and have grown into fine people. The lot of them tower above him, even more so now that they're fully fledged adults. He still remembers when they were scrawny little soldiers, too ambitious for their own good. Well, their ambition had served them well, he supposes. 

Someone (Connie, he believes) makes a joke and the few before him dissolve into peals of bright laughter. There's old faces and new faces alike today. Jean tends the smoking grill, stoking the fire, with a woman just shorter than Jean, making her still quite tall compared to everyone else anyway. Levi didn't quite catch her name when she had introduced herself, but she seemed nice enough. Anyone, even from a mile away, could tell that Jean is enamoured.

Onyankopon talks with Armin and a few others Levi doesn't recognise. He notes what they loudly discuss in his head, pinning away the book recommendations for himself.

For a moment, Levi wonders where Gabi and Falco have ran off to, but then he remembers that they had invited a few of their volunteering friends to the barbecue. The two of them must be close by, probably up in the attic in the house behind him, showing their friends the latest project Falco is working on. His miniature air-crafts aren't too bad, very intricate. Levi thinks that the air balloon, that Falco worked on a while ago, on a whim, is his favourite.

A new face approaches him, or the tables to be more exact. You stiffly seat yourself a few chairs away from where he is, and pour yourself a cup of water. There's sweat on your brow due to the warm weather, but other than that you look like that physical display of exertion you're enjoying the heat. Levi thinks it's his presence that has you fiddling nervously with the tablecloth and then your fingers. You politely smile at him when you accidentally catch his eye. Your introduction is sweet; Levi gets your name and the name of brat that had invite you here (Armin had the thought that it would do you good getting out of your solicitor's office).

Levi is not so rude to completely ignore you or make your experience with him worse than it is, so he gives a small nod of acknowledgement and turns his head to face the others once more, after giving you his name. He hopes that suffices. 

"It's hot today, isn't it?" 

Small talk. Your voice is like a calm lake to his surprise, he had expected you to just ignore him before going back to the area of the garden you came from. If you ignore his scars and then the general wear-and-tear quality that he has makes that him look older than he actually is, you look around the same age as him. 

"Yes, it is." Levi replies.

You exhale a breath, "Fairs." 

The exchange is short and meaningless. In his peripherals, you turn your head to look in the same direction he is. 

Now, Levi can see more smoke emerging from the barbecue. Connie approaches it with a wooden tray of different slices of meat. Jean takes a few with a pair of tongs and lays them on the grill. Finally, Levi was getting a peckish. 

He doesn't how long he people-watches, but he does so until the food is ready, piping-hot. You wait patiently beside him, eyes looking onwards with curiosity, muttering a few things under your breath when something particularly caught your eye. 

Sitting together staring into space happens again the next time Jean hosts a barbecue, only now it's late summer. The late afternoon is still sun-filled, with heat so intense that it rivals an oven. Levi had overheard someone say that the temperature won't cool down until autumn settles in. Levi quietly complains; he can't even rely on the evening to ease the heat. 

At least it's dry over humid. Humidity reminds him too much of the Underground in the height of summer. Though it was cooler than the surface, the Underground got so humid that it ached just to breathe the little air that was available. It's weird to think about it now. That the place doesn't exist anymore, not after Historia shut it down and the Rumbling which collapsed it completely. Levi interprets the ache in his chest to be disgust at the hellhole. 

Levi pulls his sun-hat firmly over his head. It makes him feel even more sweat-drenched but this is better than getting sunburn on his scalp and face. 

"Today is terrible." Your voice is muffled by your hands. 

He takes a breath, "The temperature?"

"Yes! I feel as if I'm going to waste away," you plant an elbow on the table and rest your head on the heel of your palm, "Your hat's nice by the way."

Levi nods his head at the compliment. 

"Thanks. Apparently it won't cool down for a while, and the sun is strong."