Aot Drabble - Tumblr Posts

E here! Hello everyone and apologies it’s been such a long ass time since i’ve updated or posted. With the pandemic and life in general, i was unmotivated to write/post anything. I do miss writing greatly and still love checking out works from other creators! With that said, i am back! I am open for requests like drabbles, fake texts, headcannons etc! If anyone enjoys AOT, i have 2 works i’ll probably post tomorrow ☺️ (eren and connie!!) Currently i am writing for:

BTS

Attack on Titan

Haikyuu

Please don’t be shy to request from me! However i do apologize as it has been a while, i’m a tad rusty but will try my absolute best!

“What’s that for?” Levi’s brow furrows as he watches you swirl your teaspoon in the little jar before you, only to pull it back with long, syrupy strands drizzling from the end. The candlelight catches in the flow: shiny and translucent as it drips down slowly to pool back in its jar again.

“It’s honey,” you explain with a light laugh, dipping the spoon down to repeat the same satisfying motion again.

“Well, what’s it made of?” The man’s distrust is plain in his tone, his eyes narrowing as he glares at the indulgence that you’d picked up on a visit into town earlier that day.

“It comes from bees,” you say, angling the spoon over the steaming cup of tea to your left—Levi's cup—to which you're intent on adding a teaspoon's worth of honey. But you suddenly find your effort halted— Levi’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, keeping it frozen in place as another long rivulet of the viscous, amber syrup sinks back into the open jar below.

You peek at Levi with a curious gaze, your head tilting ever so slightly to the side in confusion.

His lips part.

“It’s made of bees?” 

He sounds positively horrified. 

You almost snort at the revolted look on his face, shaking your head and trying not to get distracted by how easily his large, calloused hand circles the circumference of your wrist. 

“No, no.” You swallow down the laugh you feel bubbling from your stomach up to your throat, knowing it will only irritate him more if you let it free. “It’s made by bees—harvested from their hives. It’s sweet.”

“Why would I want my tea to taste sweet?” he asks gruffly, as though the suggestion is the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard. “I want my tea to taste like tea.”

“But it’s nice.” You make an earnest attempt to reason with him, a lightly teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth which you fight uselessly to keep at bay.

“It sounds repulsive.”

This time, you really can’t suppress your laughter at his staunchly uncooperative tone.

You attempt to pry your hand from his grip, pressing against his hold to lean closer to the still-steaming cup of tea waiting for your spoon, but his grip refuses to slacken even through your efforts. His grasp is firm and unyielding, but not painful—and is still far from the strength you know he’s capable of.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t falter.

Instead, he tilts your hand upwards in response to your struggle, and you watch helplessly as the honey begins to inch down the neck of the spoon—creeping closer to your fingertips with every passing second.

“It’s a treat,” you argue with him petulantly while still endeavouring to free your hand, twisting it this way and that in his hold, though the jostling serves only to make the honey drip towards your fingers faster.

“It’s unnecessary, and frankly an insult to the tea,” he bites back with an equal insistence, his tone verging more and more towards genuine offence on the tea’s behalf with every syllable. 

Finally, inevitably, you feel the honey meet the tips of your fingers: a sticky, unpleasant sensation. You stop fighting, dropping the spoon back into the jar of honey with a plop, and watch how the edges of the utensil sink into the thick liquid as though being slowly swallowed whole.

“You made a mess,” he chides you with a familiar reproachful tch.

He watches as you survey the residue left on your skin, his upper lip curling back in distaste when you spread your fingers to let the viscid strands stretch and break between them.

“Besides, if I wanted something sweet I—mmph!” Levi’s impending lecture is cut short as your fingers press against his mouth, your index and middle digit slipping unbidden between his lips as they part in speech. Thoroughly blindsided by the intrusion, his jaw goes slack—allowing you to run the pads of your sticky fingers over the surface of his warm, wet tongue. 

You watch raptly as his startled eyes never stray from yours—not as you slowly withdraw your fingers, running them gently over his pink lips, nor when you lift your hand towards yourself and slide the very fingers that had just been in his mouth into your own. Only once you’re satisfied that no lingering traces of the honey remain on your skin do you pull your fingers back, smacking your lips together to savour the pleasant, saccharine taste left behind.

“Hm,” you hum thoughtfully, finally breaking your prolonged eye-contact to inspect the tips of your fingers for anything you may have missed. “Tastes sweet.”

“You’re disgusting,” Levi chokes out an entirely unconvincing jab, clearing his throat roughly. 

You glance back towards his face, making absolutely no effort to conceal your provocative grin. You raise your hand to your lips once more, tongue flicking out to catch the last bit of honey you’d overlooked. His eyes follow your every movement with a sort of spellbound attention.

“And you’re blushing, Captain.”

Drabble: Levi x reader

Prompt: Both of them injured, and them waking up beside each other

Genre: Fluff, angst, comfort (wow, not surprised)

A/N: Depressed + Levi deprived = this

Thumping behind your ears woke you up suddenly, the rumbling of the cart jolti by you around. The bright blue sky above you blinded you, making you squeeze your eyes shut again. Hooves thundered nearby, trailing next to the cart you were being carried in.

The thin sheet across your body helped the warmth cling to you, pain shooting through your body. Stains of red down the sheet caught your attention, noticing the parallels between where you were in pain and the blotches.

Turning your head to the side, you saw him. His eyes were halflidded, blinding slowly fight away the pain coursing through his own body. He lay on his back like you, wrapped in bandages. You wished you could remember what happened but your mind was fuzzy.

Levi coughed beside you, wheezing as he took in a breath.

“Levi?” You whispered, “What happened?”

The man turned his head towards you, furrowing your eyebrows at you. He lifted a hand to place on your head, gently ruffling your hair.

“Hey, brat,” he left his hand resting on your head, “You got us in this mess to begin with.”

“It-it hurts,” you winced as the cart bounced, presumably over a rock.

Levi shifted to get closer to you, cursing under his breath at his own aching body, “I know, it sucks. Keep those eyes of yours open.”

You nodded, holding eye contact with Levi. The hand atop of your head secured you as the cart bounced across the terrain back to the walls. His gaze made you feel safe but the thought of his potential scolding caused you to feel ashamed.

Immediately afflicting the blame on you only made you feel worse, and you wished Levi could see that.

“Levi...” you began.

“What?”

“Are you going to yell at me when we get back?”

“Probably, you almost getting us both killed wasn’t too smart. But, I know you’ll need some attention. Your injuries are worse than mine.”

You tried nodding but your head thumped painfully. Levi noticed the wince you tried to hide and ran his thumb up your forehead.

“Don’t move, I know it hurts,” he sighed.

He knew that literally anyone could be seeing him like this, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was you getting the proper treatment. You certainly knew - especially because he lay injured beside you - that he went completely out of his way to save you.

Maybe you were too delirious to notice before, but the rhythmic stroking of Levi’s thumb across your forehead burnt into your skin. Never before had he been this close to you or expressed such worry for you.

Before this, you always thought you were another on of his cadets. Now, you felt slightly special.

Maybe you were something special to him.