Taglist: @carries-blenders-and-stuff @kyr0k0 @heartsforlevi @thvunaise @misera-libera

taglist: @carries-blenders-and-stuff @kyr0k0 @heartsforlevi @thvunaise @misera-libera

[5] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 5: Paradis City

WC: 7117 Chapter Warnings: no warnings for this chapter. unedited, as always. Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Unfortunately, there's not much Levi in this chapter so I updated this fast so you don't have to wait a long time just for Levi not to come up lol. This chapter holds more of reader's life now and subtle clues on why she left.

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The campus was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of passing students and the rustle of leaves as a soft breeze swept through the courtyard. You and Levi were sitting on a low stone wall near one of the older buildings, the sun setting just beyond the skyline, casting long shadows over the worn paths crisscrossing the quad. The end of the semester of your second year was approaching, and with it, the inevitable questions about the future.

Levi, sitting next to you with his usual calm demeanor, was more quiet than usual, like he had something on his mind. After a few moments, he finally broke the silence, his voice steady but carrying a weight behind it.

“You ever think about leaving the city?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the horizon, watching as the last streaks of daylight began to fade.

The question caught you off guard. You glanced at him, seeing the faintest crease in his brow, like he was trying to keep the question casual but couldn’t quite manage it. You shifted on the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest, and thought about it for a moment.

“After we graduate?” you asked, already knowing that’s what he meant.

Levi gave a slight nod, still looking out at the skyline. “Yeah. You ever think about what’s next? Where you’d go?”

You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the fraying edge of your sleeve, thinking about the question. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it—what comes after graduation, where you’d go, what you’d do. You know what you want to happen. But leaving the city? That hadn’t crossed your mind, not really. You and your grandmother had lived all your lives in Paradis. Her house is comfortable and the thought of leaving your grandmother at her old age is terrifying. Taking her with you is also out of the question because of that. Besides, your grandmother owned that house for decades. It’s the only thing she has to her name. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, your voice quiet but thoughtful. “I guess a lot of people are thinking about moving away, starting fresh somewhere else. But… I’ve never really wanted that.”

Levi glanced at you, waiting for you to continue. You took a deep breath, trying to articulate what had always felt so clear to you but difficult to put into words.

“I’ve always liked it here,” you began, your eyes wandering over the campus—the familiar buildings, the cracked pathways, the way everything felt worn in, like it had its own stories to tell. “It’s not perfect. It’s far from it, actually.”

Levi’s gaze stayed steady on you, his expression unreadable but curious. You looked back at him, feeling the need to explain.

“This city…” you paused, gesturing vaguely around you, “it’s a mess. We know it’s also shitty, you know? It’s pretending to be perfect while the other side is The Underground. I know there’s kind of a stigma about them. And to be honest, living near The Underground scares me. But it’s not all black and white.”

You looked down at the worn stone beneath your feet, tracing the uneven texture with your eyes. “Not that I’m romanticizing it but I’ve grown comfortable with this city. I don’t really want to leave my home.”

It’s also where the people that matter to you are.

Levi was quiet, his expression softening in that subtle way he had when he was really thinking. You continued, feeling the words come more easily now.

“Everyone’s in such a rush to leave, to go somewhere new, somewhere shiny and perfect. It would be nice, yes, but Paradis is my home. Even if I one day leave, I know I’ll always come back.”

You paused, feeling a little self-conscious now that you’d said all of that out loud. But Levi didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was looking at you with a kind of quiet understanding.

Levi nodded slightly, his eyes drifting back to the horizon, where the sun had finally dipped below the skyline, leaving the campus bathed in a soft twilight.

“I get that,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lingering between you but not in a bad way. It felt like something had settled, like an unspoken understanding had passed between you both.

Levi didn’t press further, didn’t ask if you wanted to leave or what your exact plans were. He didn’t need to. You both knew that the city—the imperfect, messy city—was more than just a backdrop to your lives. It was part of who you were. And even though Levi didn’t say much, you had a feeling he understood that better than most.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples to fend off the headache that had been building all afternoon. It had been a particularly difficult week—multiple depositions, court hearings, and client meetings, all bleeding into one another. But that was the life you had chosen. You thrived on the chaos, on the adrenaline of standing before a judge and making your case, on the satisfaction of winning for your clients.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was a notification from your calendar, reminding you of a meeting you had tomorrow with a potential new client. You sighed, glancing at the clock. There was always something more to do. But this work has always been like this. In these times, you even crave it, wanting to distract your mind off of a raven-haired man. 

You glanced over at the window, where the skyline of the city stretched out before you, the tall buildings glinting in the setting sun. Paradis City. It’s a place you used to call home. Now, you feel like an outsider trying to fit yourself in. 

As you returned your attention to the case file in front of you, your mind drifted for a moment to the version of yourself who had once walked these same streets as a student, full of ambition and dreams, before you had any idea what the reality of this life would look like. 

A sharp knock on your office door jolted you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Pixis, your boss, standing in the doorway with his usual relaxed demeanor, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“Still buried in paperwork, I see,” he said with a chuckle, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. He was dressed in his usual dark suit and you even swear he had the faint smell of whiskey on him—though that was nothing new for Pixis. It was something that concerned you for a while but for the past two months you’ve known him, you realize easily that it doesn’t take away that he’s a great lawyer and person. 

You straightened up in your chair, giving him a polite smile. “Just wrapping up a few things before calling it a night.”

Pixis raised an eyebrow, glancing at the pile of papers on your desk. “You always say that, but I’m beginning to think you never leave this place.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Pixis said, settling into the chair across from you. “I’m calling for a ceasefire on work tonight.”

You blinked, surprised. “A ceasefire?”

Pixis grinned, leaning back in the chair as if he had all the time in the world. “You heard me. We’re going out. The team’s having dinner tonight, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’ve already told the others. You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t gone to a single get-together. Didn’t they teach you in Trost to socialize?” 

You felt a pang of hesitation. Going out with the team was something you didn’t do often—not because you didn’t enjoy their company, but because your mind was always so focused on getting home and isolating yourself. Socializing wasn’t something that came easily to you these days.

“I appreciate the offer, but—” you started, but Pixis cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“No buts. You’ve been working too hard, and I can’t have Vanessa’s best burning out on me or she’ll have my poor old head,” he said with a grin. “Besides, it’ll be good for morale. And I don’t care how dedicated you are to your work—you’ve got to eat.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Pixis was always one to look out for his team, even if his methods were unconventional. And, truth be told, you hadn’t had a proper meal all day. The idea of sitting down to a nice dinner, surrounded by familiar faces, wasn’t entirely unappealing. And God, do you miss Vanessa and the others.

“Where’s everyone meeting?” you asked, finally giving in.

“We’re setting it up at some new place in Stohess,” Pixis replied, standing up from the chair with a satisfied look. “Good food, good drinks. Nothing too fancy. It’ll be sent on the group chat later.” 

You nodded, appreciating his words more than you expected. Pixis, as Vanessa told you, had always been more of a mentor than just a boss, and moments like this reminded you why he commanded so much respect around the firm. 

“I’ll be there,” you said, feeling a little lighter now that the decision was made.

Pixis gave you a final nod and a wink. “That’s the spirit. See you tonight, then.”

As the door closed behind him, you glanced at the clock. You had a little over an hour before the dinner, which gave you just enough time to finish the last few bits of work and maybe freshen up before heading out.

The idea of stepping away from the office, even for one night, suddenly didn’t seem so bad. You leaned back in your chair, closing your laptop with a sense of finality. At least now, you’ll be able to see Paradis in all its glory and see what Levi has been saying about its change. 

The cool evening air brushed against your skin as you stepped out of your coworker’s car into Stohess Street, you couldn’t believe your eyes. This was the very same street where you used to spend your time after class, this was where Kuchel’s was located.

It was night time, and the street is filled with bright lights. What used to be a quiet, nearly forgotten corner of the city had transformed into a lively district, filled with bustling restaurants, trendy cafes, and stylish boutiques. The hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, mingling with the scents of grilled meats and fresh-baked bread wafting from nearby eateries. 

You paused for a moment, taking it all in. Stohess had been one of those streets you’d walk down during your university days, back when the sidewalks were cracked, and most of the storefronts were either closed or run down. It had been quiet back then—dull, even. Now, it was anything but. Strings of lights hung across the street, casting a soft glow on the crowds below, and every corner seemed to offer a new place to explore.

You spotted your other coworkers gathered inside one of the newer restaurants at the end of the block, already deep in conversation. You felt a brief flicker of nerves as you approached. It had been a while since you joined the team for anything social, and though you were close with your coworkers, you still found yourself feeling like an outsider in moments like this. You had always preferred the quiet of your office, the comfort of routine, but tonight, something about the vibrant energy of Stohess felt inviting.

You wonder if Kuchel’s is still standing? If it survived the enhancement of the street? Before, it was the only restaurant here. Despite that, she had quite a number of regulars. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Pixis called out when he saw you, his grin wide as ever. “We were about to send a search party.”

You smiled, feeling the tension ease as you and the others joined the group. “Had to finish up some work,” you said, slipping into the circle. 

“Finally, we’ve been wanting to hangout with Pixis’ new hire,” someone from the group chimed in. You gave them a smile.

“Thank you for inviting me here,” I replied as we sat down. 

Everyone introduced themselves and their department. When the conversation began to drift away from you, you take the time to admire the establishment while eating.

The restaurant had an open, welcoming feel—high ceilings, rustic wooden tables, and an open kitchen where you could see the chefs at work. It was a far cry from the quiet, almost forgotten street it used to be. As you settled in, you couldn’t help but glance out the window at the street beyond, watching as people hurried by, heading in and out of the various shops and restaurants. It was hard to believe this was the same Stohess, the same place where you, Levi, Erwin, and Hange used to hangout in. It’s where Kuchel fed you meals that filled your stomach with love and motherly care. 

The food came out in waves—plates of grilled meats, fresh salads, and dishes you didn’t even recognize but were eager to try. The noise of the restaurant faded into the background as you ate and talked, losing yourself in the warmth of the moment.

As the dinner continued, the lively hum of conversation filled the air, along with the clatter of silverware and the occasional burst of laughter from your team. You were halfway through a plate of roasted vegetables when the door of the restaurant rang open. A tall man in a neatly pressed suit stepped inside, his expression calm and composed despite the boisterous atmosphere.

Pieck, one of the paralegals that’s seated across from you, looked up and cheered. “Nanami!”

The tall blonde man—Nanami Kento, you presumed—acknowledged her with a polite nod in return before his gaze shifted toward the rest of the table. His eyes briefly met yours before he approached Pixis, shaking his hand with the same understated professionalism that marked his entire demeanor. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Nanami said, his voice low and steady. “Got caught up with a client.”

“No worries, Nanami,” Pixis replied, patting him on the back as he gestured to an empty chair beside you. “We saved you a spot. Have a seat.”

Nanami moved with quiet efficiency, his presence almost subdued compared to the lively energy of your coworkers. He took the seat next to you with a nod in your direction, and you noticed how his movements were deliberate, precise—like someone who didn’t waste time or energy on unnecessary actions. There was something about him that reminded you of Levi, though with a bit more restraint and formality.

“You must be from the corporate law department,” you ventured, breaking the ice as he adjusted his tie.

He turned to you, his expression as composed as ever. “That’s correct. And you’re the new one from the family department, I assume?”

He turned to you, his expression as composed as ever. “That’s correct. And you’re from litigation, I assume?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m working on the class-action lawsuit involving the stock manipulation case.”

Nanami’s brow lifted ever so slightly in recognition. “Ah, I’ve heard about that one. High stakes. I imagine it’s been keeping you busy.”

You chuckled softly, swirling the wine in your glass. “Busy might be an understatement.”

He gave a small nod of understanding. “Corporate’s been hectic as well. Mergers, acquisitions—there’s always something.”

The conversation between the two of you flowed naturally, despite Nanami’s reserved demeanor. You found that, while he wasn’t particularly talkative, he had a quiet intellect and a sharp wit that revealed itself in subtle ways. There was a calmness to him that was almost soothing amidst the more boisterous energy of the team dinner. You can already tell that you’ll be getting along well. 

The conversation around the table continued, light and full of anecdotes about the latest cases, legal dramas, and a few well-timed jokes courtesy of Porco. But you found yourself intrigued by Nanami. Unlike many of the other senior lawyers, he had a quiet presence that demanded respect without saying much.

Eventually, you turned to him again. “Do you make it to these dinners often?”

Nanami shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not really. Usually, I’m tied up with clients. But Pixis can be… persuasive.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “I think that’s his talent. He has a way of getting us to take a break, even when we don’t want to.”

Nanami gave a slight chuckle, a rare sound from someone as composed as him. “It’s necessary, I suppose. Especially in this line of work.”

As the night began to settle, the conversation around the table started to thin out, with most of your coworkers drifting into smaller groups. You found yourself once again next to Nanami, who was calmly finishing his drink as the ambient noise of the restaurant hummed in the background. The light above the table cast a warm glow, making the lively street outside feel distant for a moment.

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “How long have you been in Paradis, Nanami?” 

“I’ve been here for four years,” he replied simply. “I moved here for the job.” 

“Do you like it here? The city? What do you think of it?”

Nanami glanced at you, his expression thoughtful as he set down his glass. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he was going to answer, but then he let out a quiet sigh, more out of reflection than fatigue.

“It’s… complicated,” he said, his eyes drifting to the window, watching the flickering lights of Stohess Street and the stream of people passing by. “When I first moved here, I thought it was overwhelming. The noise, the people, the constant movement. It felt… impersonal, in a way.”

You sigh, nodding in an understanding manner. “It didn’t used to be like this, you know?” 

That intrigued Nanami and he raised a brow. “Oh? You were from here?”

“Lived here all my life until I moved out seven years ago,” you admitted, leaning forward slightly. “It’s crazy how the city’s changed. I remember when this street was basically dead. Now it’s the place to be.”

Pixis, having heard of the conversation, chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “That’s the city for you. Always changing, whether you like it or not.”

“I didn’t know the city can change so much in seven years.” The tiny amount of alcohol must be getting to you, making you pout a little, something a bit out of character.

His words, simple as they were, hit you in a way that made you pause. The city had changed, yes, just as Levi said. And in many ways, the chaos of your life mirrored the transformation of Stohess—a once quiet, predictable space, now filled with complexity and vibrancy. But why was this information being fed to you lately? What is it to you that the city is no longer it used to be? This city that pushed you away? 

“I used to work on this same street. On the only known restaurant here before,” I shared, feeling nostalgic and missing that time of my life again.

“Hold up,” Porco raised a hand with wide eyes. “You’re telling me you worked at Kuchel’s before?” 

“Yeah, I worked part-time there during my college years,” I replied, confused as to why it’s a big deal. 

“Wow, that’s kinda iconic,” Gabi, one of the interns, reacts.

You don’t hide your confusion, chuckling a little with furrowed brows. “What exactly am I missing here?”

Pieck, who had been mid-sip of her drink, nearly choked in surprise. “Kuchel’s? The same place that practically owns the entire block now?”

“So you probably know the Ackermans?” Pixis asked, his cheeks reddened and eyes fazed from the excessive drinking. It doesn’t look like he’s out of it though.

You blinked, even more confused now. “The whole block? What do you mean? And what of the Ackermans?”

Pixis nodded, equally astonished. “Yeah, Kuchel’s isn’t some small restaurant anymore. They’ve taken over Stohess Street. You’ve been away from the city, right? I guess you haven’t seen it but the Ackermans practically revamped the whole street, if not the whole city.” 

You stared at him, genuinely taken aback. “No, I didn’t realize. I’ve been away for the past seven years. I didn’t know it had grown that much.”

It was just a small, cozy place. Kuchel ran it herself and had no intentions of making it as they were describing the business now. It had to be Levi. That would explain all the wealth he had. But it didn’t occur to you that he would be able to accomplish much in the past seven years. Not that you think he’s incapable of it. It’s just… surprising. It even makes you feel a little proud—a feeling that you quickly buried. You don’t really have a reason to feel that way. 

Porco chuckled. “Well, times have definitely changed. Kuchel’s is the restaurant now. They’ve expanded, got two more locations across the city, and they’re practically a landmark here on Stohess Street. People come in from different cities to taste their food.” 

“Tell me about it. I interned once from a company and they had me reserve a table. The waiting is for at least four months! It’s ridiculous,” Falco shared. 

You couldn’t hide your surprise. In your mind, Kuchel’s was still that quiet, modest restaurant where you spent long nights waiting tables between exams. You remembered Kuchel herself—humble and hardworking, always talking about keeping the restaurant personal and authentic. The idea of her running an empire now felt surreal.

“I had no idea,” you said softly, glancing out the window at the bustling street. It now occured to you that this is what Levi meant when he said this city has changed more than you know. 

Nanami, who had been silently listening from his seat next to you, finally spoke up, his calm voice cutting through your thoughts. “Seven years is a long time to be away. The city can change fast, especially a place like this.”

You nodded slowly, still processing the idea. “Yeah… I guess I wasn’t expecting it to change so much. I knew some things would be different, but Kuchel’s… it was like a second home back then. It’s strange to think of it as something so big now.”

Pieck gave you a sympathetic smile. “I bet it feels weird, coming back to a place that’s so different from what you remember.”

Pixis leaned forward, grinning. “Well, you should check it out. Who knows, maybe Kuchel remembers you. You might get the VIP treatment.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I doubt it. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

That and if Levi hates you now, she probably does too. You fear that even if it wasn’t you that reserved a table, she might even kick you the moment you stepped out of the restaurant. Even though you know that Kuchel wouldn’t have it in her heart to do that, your shame and anxiety gets the better of your thoughts as always.

“I actually have a reserved dinner table for the next weekend there given to me by a client after I won a case for them,” Nanami said suddenly, and you silently thank him in your mind for changing the topic. “Corporate people are wealthy people with connections,” he says with a face that doesn’t look arrogant but more of exhaustion. Although he carries himself with poise and professionalism, Nanami genuinely looks like he’s in dire need of a vacation. It seems like you found yourself another workaholic like you. 

“No way! Are you going with someone?” Pieck asked, eyes wide with excitement.

Nanami thinks for a moment, tilting his head. “Well… the table is for two. But I plan on going alone.”

“You should definitely bring someone,” Pixis chimed in. “Go get yourself a date and relax, Nanami. Life shouldn’t be all about work at your age.” 

The blonde stayed silent in deep thought but he did smile politely for Pixis. “Or if you don’t want to, why don’t you bring our new girl over here? You workaholics both need a breather.” 

And just like that, it’s once again your turn to be put on the spot. Everyone at the table looks at you and Nanami in excitement. With widened eyes, you immediately refuse. “Oh, please, you don’t have to do that, Nanami. Pixis…” You almost plea with your boss using your eyes to take back his words. 

Pixis opens his mouth again but Nanami interrupts him, shocking you. “That’s actually a good idea. Would you want to come with me?”

“I couldn’t possibly impose.” You start thinking about how to get out of this while wondering why Nanami actually agreed. You hoped he didn’t. 

“Oh, yes, you could. Maybe you could even see one of the Ackermans and get your own reservation! Maybe get the team a table?” 

The atmosphere at the table grew lighter, but you couldn’t ignore the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Nanami had just thrown you into an unexpected spotlight, and you found yourself struggling to figure out how to respond. You blinked, your mind racing for a way to politely decline without making the situation awkward.

Nanami, sitting calmly beside you, didn’t seem fazed by the suggestion. His composed demeanor didn’t reveal whether he was truly interested in the idea or just going along with Pixis’ suggestion out of politeness. Still, there was a gentleness in his expression—no pressure, just a simple offer hanging in the air between you.

“I don’t think I could manage a reservation with the Ackermans,” you said, trying to shift the focus away from yourself and back to the others. “Besides, Nanami’s the one with the connections here, not me.”

Porco grinned, raising his glass. “Come on, don’t be shy. It’s not every day you get an invite to dinner at Kuchel’s.”

“You two would be the envy of everyone,” Pieck added with a playful wink. “I mean, imagine us mere mortals trying to get in there without waiting months.”

Pixis laughed. “You should definitely take the chance. Plus, it’ll give you both a break from work.”

You let out a small laugh, hoping to diffuse the attention. “It sounds tempting, but I’m sure Nanami has someone else in mind he’d rather take. I mean, who goes to dinner with their coworker when they can invite anyone?”

Nanami, who had been quiet during the back-and-forth, turned to you with a soft smile, his voice low and considerate. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. But there’s no pressure, of course. It’s just dinner.”

There was something so simple and straightforward in the way he said it that your initial hesitation began to wane. The offer wasn’t loaded with expectation; it was just an opportunity to share a meal in a place that held memories for you, and perhaps, as Pixis had suggested, to relax. You glanced back at Nanami, noticing the subtle tiredness beneath his composed exterior. In that moment, you realized you were both in need of a break—from work, from the pressures of the city, from everything.

“Alright,” you said slowly, almost surprising yourself as the words left your mouth. “I’ll go.”

The table erupted into cheers and light applause, with Pieck and Porco exchanging triumphant high-fives while Pixis gave you an approving nod. Nanami simply nodded, as calm and composed as ever, though there was a flicker of something warmer in his eyes.

“Great,” he said, his tone measured but sincere. “I’ll text you the time this weekend.”

Pieck leaned in, her voice teasing. “Well, now we’re all jealous. You two better enjoy it.”

As the conversation moved on to other topics, you sat back in your chair, still processing what had just happened. You hadn’t expected the evening to take this turn, nor had you thought about spending time with Nanami outside of work. He was a bit of an enigma—calm, collected, and quietly competent—but beneath that exterior, you sensed there was more to him. Maybe this dinner would reveal a side of him you hadn’t yet seen.

Either way, you found yourself oddly curious about how the evening at Kuchel’s would unfold. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, you’d allow yourself to enjoy the city again. Even if it was just for one night.

The following weekend arrived more quickly than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, you were standing outside Kuchel’s, the restaurant that now dominated Stohess Street. It had been years since you last stepped foot in the area, and the sight before you was almost unrecognizable. 

Nanami stood beside you, looking as composed as always. His suit was tailored perfectly, and despite his usual calm demeanor, there was a subtle shift in him tonight. Maybe it was the change of pace, stepping out of the office, or the significance of the restaurant itself. He caught your glance and offered a small smile, as if sensing your quiet apprehension.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but soft.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s strange seeing it like this.”

As you walked into Kuchel’s, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. Though the restaurant had expanded, its essence remained the same. The decor was more refined now, with soft lighting and elegant wooden furniture, but there was still a warmth to it. The scent of fresh herbs and cooking meats wafted through the air, a familiar comfort that made your shoulders relax despite the high-end surroundings.

The hostess greeted Nanami with a nod of recognition, leading you both to a private table near the back. It was quiet, away from the main bustle of the restaurant, giving the two of you some much-needed reprieve from the noise of the city outside.

“Thank you,” Nanami said to the hostess, who left you both with menus. He glanced at you once you were seated. “I hope this isn’t too overwhelming. I didn’t realize you hadn’t been back here in so long.”

You offered him a small smile, feeling more at ease now that you were inside. “It’s a bit surreal, but in a good way. I’m glad I came.” You paused, your eyes scanning the menu, then added, “And I appreciate the invitation.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze flickering across the restaurant before returning to you. “It’s nothing. I thought it would be nice to get out of the usual routine, and… I’ve heard a lot about this place from my clients. Seems like it holds some memories for you.”

You chuckled softly, placing the menu down. “More than I realized, actually. Back then, this was just a small family-owned spot. It’s kind of hard to believe it’s grown into something like this.”

Nanami’s eyes softened. “It must be strange to see it change so much.”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair, watching the patrons around you. “Yeah… I always felt like this place represented something simple. Quiet. Now it’s this buzzing, high-end place, and I’m not sure what to think.”

Nanami remained silent for a moment, giving you space to process. Then, he leaned forward slightly, his expression more thoughtful. “Places change. People do too. But sometimes, it’s not as different as it seems on the surface. There’s always something familiar, something worth remembering.”

You blinked at his words, surprised by the depth in them. He had a way of cutting through to the heart of things without much effort. “I guess you’re right. I didn’t expect to feel this way coming back here.”

You glanced at him, wondering how someone who always seemed so in control, so composed, could also carry a quiet sense of longing and understanding beneath that exterior. Maybe Pixis had been right. You and Nanami were alike in more ways than you had thought—both of you workaholics, both of you wrestling with the weight of your own expectations.

The waiter appeared, breaking the silence as he took your orders. You opted for something simple—something that reminded you of your college days here—while Nanami chose one of the house specialties. After the waiter left, the conversation picked up again, a little lighter this time.

“So,” Nanami said, leaning back in his chair with a rare, relaxed posture. “What was it like working here? I imagine it was a lot different than the law office.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Very different. I mostly waited tables, cleaned up after shifts. It was exhausting but rewarding in its own way. I liked the people I met—the college friends I made here. They really helped me out during those years.”

Nanami nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s admirable. I’m glad you had people who were there for you. Being a working student isn’t an easy task.”

You smiled, appreciating the shared sentiment. “Exactly. I think they were what kept me going–what made the experience memorable.” 

Nanami’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply taking in the atmosphere. It felt… peaceful. Different from the rushed, stressful energy of the office. Here, in this familiar but transformed place, there was space to breathe, to reflect.

When the food arrived, the conversation continued, flowing easily between work anecdotes and personal reflections. Nanami, despite his composed exterior, revealed snippets of himself—a man dedicated to his craft but aware of the toll it took on him. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing in his company, grateful for the unexpected invitation and the quiet camaraderie it had brought.

By the time dessert was served, you were no longer thinking about the changes that had happened to Kuchel’s or the city. Instead, you were just enjoying the present moment—something you hadn’t done in a long time. Besides, if the restaurant had grown into what they said it had, you probably won’t see any Ackerman in here. 

As you finished the last bite of your meal, Nanami leaned back, his gaze steady on you. “I think Pixis was right. We both needed this.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I think so too.”

As you and Nanami lingered over the last sips of your drinks, the warm ambiance of Kuchel’s seemed to envelope you. The clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, but your conversation had quieted into a companionable silence. It had been a surprisingly pleasant evening, one that neither of you seemed in a rush to end. Suddenly, the people around you turned more quiet, looking in one direction. 

You looked up sharply, your heart skipping a beat. There, near the entrance, stood Levi Ackerman. His posture was relaxed but firm as he made his way into the place. You dropped your fork in shock, the utensil making a loud sound as it hit the porcelain plate. You curse yourself in your mind.

But before you can even hide yourself somehow, Levi turned, and his eyes fell on you. For a second, his gaze lingered before it shifted to Nanami beside you. A brief flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual neutral expression. 

He made his way toward your table, his steps quiet and deliberate as always. Unlike since you last saw him, this Levi looked different as you remembered—sharp, composed, with that ever-present air of authority that somehow fit him so well.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Levi said, his tone even but laced with the barest hint of curiosity. His eyes flicked to Nanami again, sizing him up before returning to you. “Small world.”

Nanami, ever composed, offered a polite nod. “You must be the owner.”

Levi gave a faint nod in return. “Levi Ackerman. This place belonged to my mother.” His attention shifted back to you, and for the briefest moment, something softened in his gaze.

You blinked, still trying to process the fact that Levi was standing right in front of you. Memories from your time together—at university, at Kuchel’s, before everything had changed—rushed back, but you kept your voice steady. “Yeah, it has. I didn’t even know Kuchel’s had grown so much.”

Nanami’s eyes shifted between the two of you, picking up on the subtle history that lingered beneath the surface. “It’s a beautiful place,” he said, his tone respectful but distant, sensing the dynamic. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

Levi nodded once. “I’ll let you finish your meal.” He turned to leave but hesitated for a second, looking at you again.

With that, he walked back toward the kitchen, leaving you and Nanami in a silence that felt heavier than before. You could feel Nanami’s gaze on you, quiet but probing.

“Old friend?” he asked softly, though the question carried a weight of understanding.

You exhaled, glancing down at your empty plate before meeting Nanami’s eyes. “Yeah… something like that.”

Nanami didn’t press further, and you were grateful for his quiet understanding. The rest of the evening passed in a peaceful silence, the weight of nostalgia sitting comfortably between you both, until it was time to leave.

As you and Nanami stood up to leave, the night air of Stohess Street filtered through the open doors of Kuchel's, cool and refreshing against the warmth of the restaurant. You grabbed your coat, glancing at Nanami, who had already slipped into his usual calm composure. The evening had been unexpectedly pleasant, and the subtle connection you’d shared made you feel more at ease.

Just as you step out, you heard the faint chime of the entrance door swinging open. A familiar figure appeared in the doorway—Kuchel Ackerman herself.

She looked exactly as you remembered: graceful, yet with an air of quiet authority. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few silver strands woven through the dark, giving her a look of timeless elegance. 

Kuchel stopped when she saw you, her eyes widening with recognition and surprise. For a moment, she stood there, taking you in, as if trying to place you in the timeline of the restaurant’s long history.

"You," she murmured, her voice soft with disbelief but soon warming with familiarity. "It can't be."

Your heart raced and your nerves are all over the place. It’s one thing to be seen by Levi but another thing to also see the other Ackerman that holds much of your heart. 

Her face broke into a smile walking up to you with the same gentle but firm presence she had when you were younger. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, her voice filled with both surprise and delight. “It’s been… what? Seven years?”

You smiled, taking a step toward her. "Kuchel. It’s been too long." You nodded, feeling the years stretch between you. “Yeah, seven years. I only just came back.”

Kuchel looked you over, her expression warm, though touched with nostalgia. “You haven’t changed much, except… you look more like you belong in one of those big offices now.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I guess a lot has changed. But this place…” You gestured around Kuchel’s. 

She tilted her head, her eyes softening. “I’m glad you feel that way. It’s grown so much, hasn’t it? Levi’s been working hard to expand.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you replied, thinking back to your earlier conversation with Levi. “It’s amazing what you’ve done here.”

Kuchel’s gaze flickered toward Nanami, who stood quietly beside you, ever the composed observer. “And who’s this?”

You introduced him, and Nanami gave a small, respectful nod. Kuchel returned his greeting with a knowing smile, her eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Another lawyer, huh? You sure know how to pick your friends,” she teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

Nanami, ever polite, added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your restaurant is exceptional.”

Kuchel smiled, clearly pleased. “Thank you. That means a lot.” She glanced back at you. “I should have guessed you’d find your way back here eventually. This place has a way of pulling people in.”

You smiled softly. “It really does. I’m glad I came.”

Kuchel reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Don’t be a stranger now that you’re back. This place is always open for you.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that had been missing for a while. “I won’t.”

Her expression is softer now, with a smile that carried the warmth of an old friend. “Actually, Before you go… how about you join me for dinner sometime next week? Just us,” she added with a glance at Nanami, as if sensing this had been more of a business dinner. “I’d love to catch up properly. It’s been too long, and I’m sure there’s plenty to talk about.”

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of time between the last time you sat down with Kuchel and now. The thought of stepping back into that part of your life, of Levi’s life, even for a night, stirred something inside you—nostalgia, perhaps, or a little trepidation. But Kuchel’s invitation felt genuine, and you knew, deep down, that reconnecting with her might be exactly what you needed.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’d love that, Kuchel.”

Kuchel’s face lit up, and she nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I’ll even be the one to cook something special,” she teased, though you could tell she wasn’t entirely joking. 

Nanami, who had been standing quietly by your side, gave a subtle nod of approval. “It sounds like a perfect opportunity to reconnect.”

You glanced at him, grateful for his understanding, before turning back to Kuchel. “I won’t forget,” you promised.

“Good.” Kuchel smiled once more before retreating back into the restaurant, leaving you standing at the threshold of the bustling street, feeling strangely at peace.

As you and Nanami finally walked away from Kuchel’s, the cool night air wrapping around you, the quiet between you was no longer awkward or heavy. Instead, it felt comfortable—a shared understanding of the complexities of the past and the people who shaped it.

Nanami glanced at you, his tone measured but kind. “You’ve got a lot of history here.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking back at the restaurant, now glowing behind you in the night. “I do.”

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

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hiiii, AGHHH I'M SO HAPPY, THANK YOU FOR THIS CHAPTERR. Is it ok if I ask about the schedule of the chapter 5?? Anyway, we missed youuu SO MUCH

Thank you so much for the wait and I missed you as well 🥹 I’m working on chapter 5 at the moment and it only has 1k words so far. Hopefully, I will be able to let it out by October but this last quarter of the year is going to be hectic for me. It makes me so happy that there are a few still interested in this story. Though, I have to admit I’m kinda stuck because I want to bring in another minor character (male) but I’m not decided on who yet. (Sorry I kinda yapped.)

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had my very rare, only happens once in every 1 or 2 years, little writing rush today so chapter 5 is done y'all. i might update in a few hours or tomorrow.

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AGGHH JUST MAKE UP ALREADY HAHAHAHA, are they gonna be together again?? 🤗 #trusttheprocess

I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ Let’s see.

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what timee you're gonna upload?? Can't waitt

Hello! I just updated!

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