Levi Ackerman X You - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

I read your recent Levi fic and I absolutely love your writing??? May I request a canon verse Levi fic too? A fic where the reader is Levi's wife and she visits him at the survey corps and a lot of the people are in awe of her and are shocked finding out the husband she's looking for is Levi? Just some funny fluff! Bonus points for the reader being more soft and affectionate in public with him so we have a cute embarrassed Levi LOL tysm!

The Wife

Levi Ackerman x Reader (Mayyybe some Erwin x Reader?)

Summary: : A particularly breathtaking woman has decided to visit, and gossip is strife in the Scouting Legion.

Warnings: SFW / mentions of a miscarriage

Wordcount: 7.1K

Genre: Tooth rotting FLUFF

A/N: EEEKK this took soo long! But thank you for appreciating my scribbles, anon! I try :> Also, I absolutely LIVE for this request, I'm so glad you asked for it <3

Maria's Scribblings MASTERLIST

Depending on who you are, Sundays in the Scouting Legion either meant you get to finally have your once a week visit to go home and see your family, or-- if you’re Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Ymir, Christa, Reiner, and Bertholdt-- you don’t have a family to go home to, and so you get to spend Sundays lazing around and keeping post in the Legion’s base.

But it isn’t all too bad! Sundays can be quite eventful if you’ve got a good eye for entertainment. Because where Eren is glad he’s finally fucking free of that bastard Jean’s neighing, the rest of the newly minted 104th recruits of the Scouting Legion get to keep themselves up to speed in the military’s juicy, juicy gossip.

And if they’re lucky, Sundays would let them see scandal unfold! In fact, Ymir can’t tell you how many stories she’s heard of Officers’ mistresses visiting the compound. Or of Officers whose wives just visited the morning before, visiting their mistresses the afternoon later!

For Commanding Officers specifically, affairs are fairly easy to spot since most of them don’t leave the compound even on Sundays, thanks to their mountains of paperwork. No one’s judging them though; they are only human after all. And there is an understanding amongst Legion soldiers that a few trysts with prostitutes—like Squad Leader Zacharias’ happy excursions with a woman named ‘Babydoll’-- could slide every now and then considering their lifestyle. The job doesn’t exactly allow for many long term attachments.

There’s also the matter of figuring out which soldier is sleeping with who.

Did that Squad Leader’s subordinate just stay in his office all day? Not even coming out once?

Or perhaps, who may be secretly married with kids without telling anyone, including a fellow Scout that they’ve been sleeping with.

Maybe a few civilian girlfriends here and there.

Once, Bertholdt had to gently lead out a weeping woman who’s apparently fallen pregnant, and was telling a Scout that the child was his.

Now, Mikasa didn’t give a rat’s ass about it all.

Eren just does his job with an almost impressive single-mindedness, but he reacts every now and then.

Armin tries not get too caught up in it all, but he often ends up being the one to unravel whatever compelling mystery-scandal they’ve got, because of course he does.

Bertholdt just listens quietly, so quietly you can hear him praying to the goddesses that their superiors don’t catch them. But he’s also the one who would end up telling Connie, Sasha, and Jean everything once they come back the next day.

Reiner gives a snide comment or two, always trying to rationalize things before jumping to conclusions. He’s probably the only person who’s actually actively listening to Ymir.

Christa hisses at Ymir to stop gossiping about their superiors’ sex lives, that it’s not right. All while secretly curious about the gossip, but never admitting to it.

And Ymir? Ymir just laughs at Christa, and proceeds to gossip some more. She loves this shit. Lives for it even.

“Oh loosen up! It’s literally my only form of entertainment these days,” she would say.

But there was one riveting piece of gossip that’s got them all glued to every word Ymir says. Yes, even Mikasa.

“I swear I heard that Captain Levi’s got a secret girlfriend somewhere! A particularly young girlfriend, in fact.”

“We’re all but three weeks in the Scouts and already, you’re starting a smear campaign on the Captain,” Christa admonishes.

“It’s not a smear campaign if it’s true,” Ymir quips back.

"Uh huh, and who’s your ‘reputable’ source this time?” Reiner chimes in, shaking out a fresh load of hay for the horses. The cadets have been tasked to guard the main gate as well as the stables nearby for the day’s expected visitors and soldiers going in and out of the compound.

“I overheard my Squad Leader whisper about it.” Ymir’s smug snicker was all Christa needed to pause what she’s doing.

In fact, it made them all pause. If the Squad Leaders were whispering about it, then it must hold water.

Mikasa was the first to speak, nonchalantly going back to her task, “Well, I wouldn’t put it past an officer who would openly beat up a helpless man on his knees just to prove a point.” Eren responded by muttered that he was fine.

“Right? Besides, Captain Short Stack’s in clear need of a good lay!” Ymir guffawed, piling onto Mikasa’s spite. This time, it was Christa’s turn to chide.

“Don’t talk about the Captain like that! It’s not right, Ymir. We’re going to get into some serious trouble because of this.” And as long as it’s Christa disagreeing with something, you best believe Reiner would take her side straight away.

“Christa’s right,” he says, Ymir rolling her eyes at the way he puffs out his chest in bravado. “There’s no reason for us to gossip like hens. Besides,” Reiner grins mischievously to his friends, “I heard Commander Erwin's wife is coming today.”

“And so?” Bertholdt raises an eyebrow at him.

Reiner takes his closest friend in a clutch around his arm. “And so, I heard she’s a hot piece of ass, Bertie!”

Annoyed, Bertholdt shakes him off. “Call me Bertie one more time, and I’ll tell Jean you’ve been fantasizing over the girls he draws.” A threat which promptly shuts Reiner up with a conceding gesture.

“The Commander’s married?” Christa asks curiously.

“And how hot is the wife exactly?” Eren nudges Reiner. Reiner would’ve given the younger cadet the low down if it weren’t for Mikasa’s death glares trained right on Reiner’s jugular.

“Err… I’ll tell you another time, Eren.”

Waving her hands in the air, Ymir intervenes. “Yeah and who the hell cares about Commander Erwin’s babe of a wife anyways—put your hand down, Reiner.”

“And I thought you were a woman of culture,” Reiner grumbled.

Ignoring the blonde man, Ymir continued excitedly. “The meat gets juicier! Seems like Captain Levi’s young girlfriend was his lieutenant.”

There was a collective gasp.

“No.” It was the first time Armin spoke. Ymir nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup! Before Petra, she was the only girl in the Special Ops Squad. Handpicked by our esteemed Captain, of course.” Ymir looks to her friends conspiratorially, her eyes conveying what was said between the lines.

“A-are you saying she… had an affair with her superior?” Armin could barely say the words. Very dangerous words.

“And it seems like the Captain got his favorite pregnant and so she had to be quietly dismissed and sent away. My Squad Leader even mentioned catching her leaving his office well into the wee hours of the night. Even spotting matching hickeys on them both.” Ymir snorted. “Who would’ve thought, huh? Captain Levi? She must be a fucking bombshell for the Captain to even notice her. Or a saint. Because who the fuck wants to deal with Captain Scrooge McShorty? Never thought I’d see the day when I’d hear a woman is actually interested in that midget. But I suppose a rank adds a few inches, eh?”

All while Ymir was yapping along, the rest of the cadets were quiet.

“…So the Captain has a kid?” Eren could barely wrap his head around what he just heard. It just doesn’t check out to him. Captain Levi, for all his singular tastes and dangerous temper, did not strike Eren as the type to take advantage of his young subordinates.

Ymir frowned. “Well. From what I heard, she miscarried.”

Armin was still, “That’s not why she was sent away w-was she?”

In a snap, Christa shook her head vehemently. “Stop that! How can you say those nasty things about another woman, Ymir?! From what I know, Squad Leader Klaus doesn’t have the best track record either, so who is he to judge?!” Christa’s little face was contorted in loathing now. And she was right. Klaus’s reputation precedes him, and it certainly isn’t a good one.

Mikasa sighs, standing by Christa comfortingly. She was no avid advocate for the Captain, but she can recognize blatant misogyny when she sees it. “True or not, talk like that has no room in our job description. The Captain’s personal affairs is none of our business, and frankly,” Mikasa’s face scrunches up in disgust. “I’d rather not know. Let’s just finish up here before the next wave of visitors arrive.”

It was then that a soldier from outside Legion perimeters hollers to the cadets to open the main gate; a visitor was to stable their horse. Bertholdt and Reiner jog to yank open the gates to let in a rider with a lady riding side-saddle on pillion as his passenger.

A very pregnant lady riding side-saddle on pillion, indeed.

Hurriedly, Reiner helps the woman down the moment he saw her condition, being the biggest of the bunch. Once he sets her down in a graceful sweep, very careful to be gentle, Reiner was immediately struck frozen to his spot.

This very pregnant lady was absolutely gorgeous.

Her beauty was only accentuated by the pretty smile she offered the strong blonde soldier, when she beamed up at him with a, “Thank you, Cadet. Would you terribly mind showing my steward where he can stable the horse, as well as where he can rest with some food and drink?”

While Reiner was slack-jawed and stupid trying to formulate a coherent answer, the woman’s steward dismounted and handed the lady a full-looking wicker basket. Most likely bearing treats and food for whoever she was visiting in the Scouts, judging by the wonderful smell of baked goods coming from it. Quickly, Bertholdt and Eren swoop in.

“I’ll stable the horse for your steward, ma’am. We’ll give him some fresh hay, too,” Bertholdt says, already getting a hold of the horse’s reins. He looks to the steward, “If you’ll just follow me, sir. I’ll show where the refreshments and the nearest inn are after I stable the horse.”

And Eren, also already dumbstruck by their new lovely visitor, immediately offered to carry the woman’s basket for her. With an equally charming smile, she thanks Bertholdt, and gratefully hands Eren the basket—whose face blooms into a blush when she said he was too kind.

“She’s… so beautiful. Like, in an elegant way,” Christa quietly squeaks to Ymir who, just as in awe, distractedly replied with a, “Must be the pregnancy glow hormones.”

But something makes her stop.

The woman had a wedding ring.

This wasn’t just any pretty visitor, this was a very beautiful married woman come to visit the Scouts who—judging by the fine horse and the personal steward—must be connected to somebody high-ranking indeed.

“Psst! Reiner!” Ymir nudges at the still stuttering oaf. Her eyes dart to the lady then back to Reiner.

“That’s the Commander’s wife!”

Before the realization fully sunk into Reiner’s ogling face, Armin and Mikasa quickly jumped into protocol.

“I presume you are here to visit your husband, ma’am?” Mikasa asks courteously.

The woman smiles kindly, “I am.” Already expecting that she would have to be escorted to her husband’s office, immediately follows with, “His office is at the Commander’s Corridor in the North Wing.”

In a wordless look amongst the Cadets, the 104th immediately recognized that this lady was indeed who they thought she was at her reply. After all, who else would she be visiting in the Commander’s Corridor of all places?

“Alright, Cadet Braun and I will just go up to inform him that you’re here so that you won’t have to climb all the way up. We wouldn’t you to strain yourself, ma’am,” Armin says, taking the woman’s pregnancy into consideration. But the woman said otherwise.

“Oh, no need for that! He’s a busy man, I understand. And he probably won’t take kindly to you kids disturbing his work. Besides,” she says with a twinkle on her eye. “I want to surprise my husband, considering he hasn’t seen me in months.” A hand smooths over her large belly, telling the Cadets exactly what she means. At that, Armin and Christa especially smile back at her, saying they completely understand.

“But do allow us to go ahead and alert him that you’re here. It’s protocol, you see,” Armin said apologetically. The woman just nods and says it’s all fine, as Armin taps at Reiner before they begin to jog up to Commander Erwin’s office.

Turning back to the visitor, Mikasa tells her that as is also protocol, the rest of them would have to escort her up; also so that they could assist her in her climb up. Hardworking as always, Eren eagerly nods with the basket in hand; always ready to serve, as the woman agrees. And so, with Mikasa and Eren leading the group, Christa walks by the woman right behind the two, as Ymir walks at the tail-end of the group.

~

As they were walking past the courtyard, Christa looks up to the North Wing—the highest of the livable offices in the base—and then looks worriedly to the woman she and her friends were escorting.

“Ma’am? Are you absolutely sure you can climb up? It’s a lot of stairs to the top of the highest office wing. We wouldn’t want to endanger you.” They’ve reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the Commander’s Corridor, cueing Christa and Ymir to flank the pregnant woman in order to support and assist her up; allowing Christa to hold her hand, while Ymir rest a ready hand at the base of her back.

The woman just laughs indulgently. “Don’t worry Cadet, I’m made of tougher stuff than you think.” She winks at Christa.

“I was once a Scout like you, you know.”

“You were a Scout?!” Ymir gasped in surprise. Mikasa gives her a sharp look for the impolite shock in Ymir’s voice. But the woman didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she humored the question.

“Oh yes, how do you think I met my husband? We were in the same squad when we did,” she smiled.

With wide eyes, Eren swivels and starts going up the steps backwards to exclaim, “Damn, you must be really good!” (An action which Mikasa promptly calls out, jabbing him in the side to make him face front.) For her to be a part of the Commander’s Squad, she must at least be an above average soldier.

The woman just gave a modest shrug, “Well, I was already a veteran when I married. So I suppose I was.”

With thoughtful eyes, Christa asks, “It must have been difficult to leave the Scouts. It’s for a happy occasion of course, but I can’t imagine it was ever easy to readjust to a new life.”

The lady purses her lips playfully, her bright eyes looking up in thought. “Weeell, having to be a Scout is pretty darn difficult, I’d say. Especially when I had to serve at the vanguard before I could become a full-fledged veteran. So setting down a Scout’s mantel was fairly easy.” It was a lighthearted but plainly honest answer. Then her face turned solemn. “But I’d say the hardest part was to leave my husband to it all.”

She looks to the young and curious eyes around her. “There’s something about leaving your spouse to the perils of being a Scout that’s terrifying. Knowing that while I’m safely cooped up with his child in my belly, he’s still out there risking his life with no guarantee that he’d make it out alive. It kept me up at night. Especially knowing how truly dangerous those perils are because I, myself have experienced them. And I would wonder, who would look out for him now? Because it was I who looked out for him.” Like a spell broken, she shakes her head, and her brilliant smile comes back to light up her face.

“Yet still, if a little bit of fear and bravery is all it takes to spend a life with him, to be the woman who gets to love him forever, then so be it. My husband is a skilled soldier. I trust that he can take care of himself.”

Christa—and secretly, Mikasa—all but swooned and sighed at how romantic their visitor’s words were. Ymir meanwhile, was eager to hear more as the group was nearing the mezzanine.

“How was it? Dating as soldiers, I mean. I can’t imagine it was particularly welcomed that you were dating the Scout’s top-dog,” Ymir says carefully assisting the woman through the last few steps. The woman wiped at the sweat on her forehead with a kerchief, and took a deep breath; the flight of stairs already getting to her. Still, she gave her usual lovely smile to Ymir.

“The relationship was certainly kept under wraps. People have suspected that I’m dating someone, but they never could figure out who.” She chuckled to herself. “I can’t imagine how not, with the many times I locked myself in my husband’s office to help him with late night ‘paperwork’ back then,” she says with air quotes, grinning at the Cadets’ blushing faces in realization of what she meant.

“And when I finally fell pregnant, and the cat was out of the bag, people couldn’t believe who exactly I was dating either, much less that he’s the father of my child. ‘How could someone like him, be with someone like her,’ they would say,” the woman laughed.

Ymir-- who was positively charmed by their visitor’s warmth and bubbly energy-- scoffed in jest. After all, it only made sense for a lovely woman to fall in love with an equally lovely man.

“Please, you’re a perfect match for Commander Erwin!”

~

Meanwhile, walking along the Commander’s Corridor, Armin and Bertholdt—who joined them on the way after he finished his errand— had the unfortunate opportunity to spend the walk to Commander Erwin’s office listening to Reiner gush about how beautiful that pregnant visitor they just had was.

“The Commander’s one damn lucky bloke!” Reiner moans, a hand rubbing his face.

“Well what did you expect? Have you seen the Commander? Of course he’d have a gorgeous wife,” Bertholdt replies blandly, already tired of Reiner’s constant groaning.

“And maybe it’s best not to lust after the Commander’s pregnant wife, Reiner,” Armin reminds nervously, eyes darting around in case anyone were to hear Reiner adulations.

Reiner sighed, “You’re right. Besides, if I were husband to a woman like that, I’d make sure to get her pregnant. I’d go absolutely feral, I’d tell ya!” Reiner smirks, elbowing a wincing and a grossed out Armin and Bertholdt.

“Shut up Rei, I don’t want that image in my head,” Bertholdt deadpans.

“Okay be quiet now, we’re here.” Armin says, as the three stop in front of the Commander’s door.

Bertholdt went ahead and gave three respectful knocks.

Oddly enough, instead of the usual prompt reply of their usually prompt Commander, the cadets heard a series of muffled shuffling and a few bangs on wood. Then finally, came Erwin Smith’s—albeit slightly strained—baritone.

“Come in!”

Armin could’ve sworn he heard giggling after the Commander’s reply, but Bertholdt turned the knob and swung the door open nonetheless.

To their surprise, they found the Commander with none other than Petra Ral in his office.

“Is it just me or did we interrupt something?” Armin discreetly whispers to Reiner, eyeing the slightly disheveled appearance of their Commander as well as the hurriedly awkward way Petra is combing down her ginger hair.

“Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, Sir. But we’d thought to let you know that you’re wife is here,” Bertholdt announces with a firm salute.

At his words, both the Commander and Petra look to each other with a funny look on their faces.

Confused, Erwin cocks a thick eyebrow. “I’m sorry, who?”

Back at the doorway, the three Cadets blink back. “Err… your wife, Sir?”

It was then that the boys heard a brisk tap on the still-open door behind them.

They pivot to see Squad Leader Miche by the door, smirking at them, and an utterly amused twinkle in his green eyes.

“Sorry to break it ‘ya, boys. But the Commander’s already with his wife,” Miche winked at a peeved Commander Erwin and the blushing ginger girl right beside him. Miche then gives the couple a woman’s name, telling them that she’s here. (He must’ve smelled her in the premises before anyone even had to tell him.)

Extremely puzzled, Reiner looks from the entertained look on the Squad Leader, to his Commander, and now apparently, to his Commander’s wife.

“Then who’s…?”

Before Reiner could finish, Miche simply threw his head back in a fit of laughter, as him and his newest piece of gossip to tell Hange, went on their merry way.

~

At the mezzanine, the woman stops.

“Commander Erwin?”

The woman blinked at the Cadets who have also stopped walking, looking back at her in confusion now.

She then turns to Ymir with a bewildered look on her face.

“Erwin isn’t my husband.”

“What? Then who are you here to—“

“Lieutenant Ackerman!”

At the sound of that unmistakable screech, the pregnant woman whirls and shrieks back.

“Hange!”

Excitedly, the bespectacled scientist ran over to the woman and gave her the tightest—but careful—of hugs. Immediately, Hange started fawning over her old friend.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mrs. Ackerman herself,” Hange says cheekily, as she went to hold her laughing friend’s hands. “Oh, look at you! Oh my goodness, you’re so big!” She exclaims giddily, gently rubbing the pregnant lieutenant’s belly.

Meanwhile, Christa stammers quietly. “D-did she just say… Lieutenant?”

“…Ackerman?!” Eren added, mouth open.

“Hell no.” Ymir gaped. There was no fucking way.

Beaming prettily, you giggled at Hange. “Well, I’m already at my third trimester!” You took a breath, and held Hange’s forearms. “It’s so good to see you again, Hange. I hope Levi didn’t sass you too much while I was gone.”

“Puh-lease! I’d say it’s Levi who’s had his hands full with me and my shenanigans since you’ve been gone,” Hange chuckles teasingly. She then tilts her head towards Eren and sighs dramatically, “I wouldn’t say the same about Jaeger over there, though.”

Now addressing Eren, Hange tells the Cadet, “Thank your lucky stars, Eren! You’re about to have a helluva stress-free weekend now that Levi’s wife is here!”

Still shocked, Eren just nods absently.

“Well, Lieutenant. I’m sure you’re here to see your Captain?” Hange loops her arms around the woman’s cheerfully. “I’ll take you to him! Let’s pass by Erwin and Petra along the way, I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

And off you two strolled, across the mezzanine and up the last flights of stairs onto the Commander’s Corridor, four flummoxed Cadets trailing behind you.

~

Reiner, Bertholdt, and Armin’s bafflement was broken by Petra’s squeal at the mention the woman’s name.

“She’s here?!”

Petra then flies out her husband’s office, the boys quickly getting out of her way. At the sight of her best friend at the end of the corridor, she calls out her name and goes, “About time you visited!”

Lieutenant Ackerman hugs Petra back, and soon enough, the three women were already thrilling about the Lieutenant’s pregnancy. Compliments on how glowing she looked, questions about how far along she was, how she was faring with the pregnancy, and if she had a clue about the baby’s gender flew about in giggles and sighs.

In a moment, Commander Erwin himself has followed Petra out to also engulf his subordinate-turned-good-friend in a warm hug.

~

At the side, Eren was still carrying your wicker basket. When he and the girls finally met up with Reiner, Bertholdt and Armin by the Commander’s office, Eren nudges Reiner sharply.

“She isn’t the Commander’s wife!”

“So we’re finding out,” Reiner grits out. Eren gives out some really painful jabs.

~

“Is it just me, or did your eyebrows get bushier, Erwin?” you tease.

“Shut up.” Erwin quips back, still hugging you. He looks down at you, smiling fondly, and feigning annoyance in his voice. “You’re lucky I missed you.”

When you finally separated, Erwin held your shoulders gently as he glanced to the flight of stairs you just traversed. “How are you and the baby? The stairs didn’t exhaust you too much did they?”

“We’re fine, and the stairs were nothing, don’t worry. I wasn’t handpicked by Humanity’s Strongest himself for nothing, you know,” You beam up at Erwin who was already nodding in relief.

“Good. Levi would kill me if I allowed you to get strained.”

You roll your eyes, “Levi fusses over me whether or not I get strained. But guess what, Commander,” you had a delicious sparkle in your eye.

“I made cake.”

And like a little kid, Erwin Smith gives a small pump of his fist; he’s always been a terrible sweet tooth. While Hange whoops in joy.

Petra looks to the new recruits who were watching the odd scene before them. It isn’t everyday they see their commanding officers act so ecstatic and carefree, after all. Incredibly far from the usual strict fashion their superiors would carry themselves. Commander Erwin, especially.

Smiling, Petra addresses the Cadets, “Look sharp, Cadets. You’re looking at one of the most exceptional sharpshooters in the three Walls! Graduated first in her class and everything. Even precedes me to the Special Ops Squad!”

“And the Scouting Legion’s finest Lieutenant,” Erwin added proudly, to which you only chuckled bashfully at, lightly swatting at his arm.

“But you kids can call her Lieutenant Ackerman,” Hange shrugged, grinning. Knowing exactly how Reiner, Bertholdt, and Armin would take the new information, despite her nonchalance.

And Bertholdt’s answer delivered just the reaction Hange anticipated.

“Wait. Did you just say--?”

“OI YOU RAT BASTARDS!”

Then like the rumbling thunder of an approaching storm, came Captain Levi Ackerman, stomping in with a smirking Miche just behind him.

And absolutely furious.

“What in the actual fuck made you brats think that letting my pregnant wife climb up the stairs was all fine and dandy?! I swear to sweet Sina’s shit, if something happened to—“

But something makes Levi stop in his tracks.

It was you. And oh, what a sight were you to behold.

The last time he saw you, your baby bump was only just showing. But in that moment, when you made that graceful turn of yours to peek up at him through your eyelashes, a playful smile dancing on your lips, Levi was convinced he must have married a goddess. A faerie woman who has quite utterly entranced him in a spell. A nymph who’s sly smile holds many a delicious promise to a simple man like him.

You looked absolutely divine with your full belly. And his wonderstruck burns deeper at the thought that it was his child that your beautiful body was growing; it elicits something primal in him. His wonderfully gorgeous wife was pregnant with his child, and Levi’s entire being ached to be near her. Ached to protect her and their baby; to provide them with everything their hearts desired.

Then Levi Ackerman quickens his pace to a sprint until finally, you were in his arms, safe and sound…

Until finally, he had you wrapped up in a kiss.

Furtively, Hange whispers to Ymir with a grin, “She’s always been the only who could calm him down.”

~

Once Levi was satisfied that he’s kissed his wife enough, he looked to you with warm eyes—warm eyes that no one else would see otherwise, if it weren’t for your presence smiling glowingly back at him.

His hands, so strong and calloused, wavered at your belly; hesitant that they might hurt the precious treasure within. Patiently, your soft hands took Levi’s hard ones—hands that have seen so much violence—and held them against the swell of your belly.

“It’s okay, Levi. Hold your baby.”

He held you so tenderly, so lovingly.

“Next time, don’t take the stairs. I’ll be coming down to you, no matter the time of day. ” Levi admonishes in a low voice, gunmetal eyes serious.

You just giggled at what the Cadets would think to be a fairly intimidating face, “You worry too much, darling. As if you haven’t trained me to be tough as nails.”

It could be nothing else but sorcery, the Cadets think. Absolute witchcraft! How in the world could this tiny woman turn the Captain’s temper up on its head just like that? They were like a tableau of the sun and the moon come together—a bright and bubbly girl, with a cold and aloof Captain. And much like the sun and the moon, one’s lightheartedness bounces off the other.

Now, Ymir understood why the Scouts couldn’t believe who she was dating back then. She couldn’t believe her eyes even as she watched Humanity’s Strongest himself envelop the woman in an embrace! But hey, Ymir was at least right with two things—Captain Levi’s lover is indeed both an angel and a bombshell of a woman.

Suddenly, Levi’s soft expression turns sour.

“I’ve also been filled in by Miche, you brats.” Levi’s menacing eyes flash to the Cadets that have accompanied his wife. A look which has promptly frozen the soldiers into attention.

“What kind of dimwit-loving maggot ate at your brains for you lot to think to bring her to Erwin’s office, huh?”

Briefly, Levi wondered if it was a breach of military decorum to smack these nitwits up the head for assuming his lovely wife was Erwin’s and not his.

The Cadets only stood frozen, not daring to say a word. The Captain certainly wasn’t a man whose anger they wanted to incite; even accidentally.

“Hey, hey, Levi, please,” you speak up, cupping your jealous (and adorable) husband’s cheek to make him face back to you, treating him once again to your tinkling laugh. “It’s my fault, I didn’t exactly introduce myself properly. Besides, it’s for the best. We both know that once you’ve got in me in your clutches, who knows when you’ll let me see Erwin and Petra anymore?”

And with your magic touch, the Captain visibly calms down. A little embarrassed (and blushing) that’s he’s been so easily rendered love-struck by his wife’s laughter, Levi sighs. He reaches to stroke the luscious locks of your hair, “And for good reason.”

Levi glares up at his blonde friend’s grinning face.

“He’s gonna finish up all the cake.”

~

Once the Cadets have been dismissed, you distribute the quaintly packaged boxes of cake to the Smiths, Hange, and Miche. Before you and Levi left for his office, Hange tells you to drop by her lab before leaving so that she can do a check-up on you.

“I know you have a good midwife and doctor back home, but you can never be too sure, eh? I also want to make sure you’re okay enough for the travel back.” She says to you and Levi, something you very much appreciated. You thanked her as Levi, after putting some serious thought into it, begrudgingly promised to bring you over despite the fact that it would leave him with even less time with you.

With an arm around your waist and a hand resting securely on your hip, Levi takes your wicker basket, and leads you to his office at the other end of the corridor. At the back of his mind, Levi knew that news of his wife would spread like wildfire now that the new recruits have met you. But he didn’t mind, because all he wanted was some much needed alone time with his wife.

Even now, on the way to his office, aides and squad leaders have already taken notice of you and the way he was holding you. Stares—both curious and disbelieving—followed them as these poor Scouts wrapped their heads around the fact that their fearsome Captain was being tender to a woman.

A woman who was delightedly telling him about the special carrot cake she made him—his favorite. As well as the artisan jasmine and ginseng teas you got him from Wall Sina. You even brought Levi’s favorite cleaning wax!

But when Levi finally had you behind his office door, all these treats were effectively forgotten. Because in a single husky order from your Captain, he’s got you melting like putty beneath his hands. Moaning his name and whimpering for him to come closer, to kiss you deeper.

And Levi, happily obliged.

~

The next morning when you woke up, your husband was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t alarm you though, knowing full well that as Captain, he often had a full schedule and has always liked to start his day early. So he’s probably somewhere working out, or overseeing training if he wasn’t in his office doing early morning paperwork.

And then something heavenly hits you. Something deliciously heavenly, to be exact.

You heard your stomach rumble, as the smell of butter, maple syrup, and freshly roasted nuts rouse you from bed and into your maternity clothes. With the morning dew still hanging in the air, you waddle across the courtyard to reach the mess hall where all the food you were craving was, when you heard a horse’s familiar neigh.

Looking up, you find Levi looking every inch the battle hero he was, as he gracefully rode on his great steed, Midnight, whom he’s slowed to trot and then finally to a halt beside you.

“Good morning, Captain,” you greet your husband cheekily.

“Good morning, why are you up so early?” Levi asks, thin eyebrows crunched together in concern. You haven’t even done up your hair yet.

Shyly, you bit your lip, and shrugged. “I got hungry.”

At that, Levi’s eyes widened in realization. Already mentally kicking himself that of course his pregnant wife would be craving for some food. He hasn’t lived with you for so long that he’s forgotten to ensure that you had breakfast by your bedside once you woke up.

‘Duh Levi, you dumbass,’ he thinks to himself

Quickly, he swings himself off his horse, and while firmly holding the reins, goes to you. He cups your face with an earnest and apologetic look in his face.

“I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve brought you up some food, you shouldn’t have had to come down.”

You give him a peck, “Shh, it’s alright. You wouldn’t have known which one I was craving for anyways. And exercise is good for pregnant women, Levi.”

Levi looks back to you softly. “Okay,” he concedes. “But you have to kiss me again.”

And so you did.

Passionately. Devotedly.

~

It would have been unmistakable to those who witnessed you and your Captain kiss as to exactly who you were to him. Especially once they’ve noticed your matching wedding rings and your very pregnant condition. And it was nice, you think, to finally be able to wear your heart on your sleeve around the man you love; free and unafraid of judgment after years of secret rendezvous and feigning innocence.

It was certainly a thrill for a young woman like you to have unexpectedly attracted the interest of her handsome, older, Captain. And not just any Captain, Humanity’s Strongest, no less! The flirting behind closed doors, heated gazes across rooms, the innuendos, and the whispered promises; it was all as if your life has turned into a novel.

But you and Levi prefer this—to love unrestricted, and for Levi especially, to care fuck all who saw him kissing his lovely wife.

Yet still, when Levi lead you to the mess hall where many Scouts were already having their early morning breakfast at, you once again felt like the foolish young lieutenant that’s gotten herself pregnant, and even worse, has lost the baby. The stares and whispers following you both as you entered the hall took you back to time where stares and whispers felt like a weapon against you. And for a while, walking into the mess hall was like walking into a battlefield with the way you had to hold your nerves together, and desperately tried not to freeze up.

You felt well and truly disgraced back then. There was no denying the quiet but stifling judgement of seemingly all seeing eyes that trailed the girl who dared let Levi Ackerman fall in love with her. Who dared be as careless as to lose their esteemed Captain’s baby, on top of pretty much being branded as a whore.

Of course, Captain Levi promptly and adamantly married you after you miscarried and were safe enough. Levi was the one who convinced you to at least take a break, if not to retire completely, from being a Scout in order for you to safely have your pregnancies. It would kill him, Levi said, if anything bad happened to you while on the job. And he’d be damned if he’d let even a sliver of a chance where you or your baby could get hurt. Not again.

And so while your ordeal as the Scouting Legion’s newest scandal has long since been a bad memory now, you still couldn’t help but anxiously and unconsciously walk a half step behind your husband in order to hide yourself behind him.

Noticing this, Levi takes your hand, and gives it a firm and reassuring kiss.

I’m right here, it said. You’re safe.

But the dread would soon dissipate, as Levi carefully lead you to a table where his squad was already beaming up at you in greeting, morning coffee in their hands.

“Lieutenant! Good morning!” calls out Eld. He was always a morning person.

“I knew you were here! The Captain hasn’t rang us for paperwork all night!” Oluo jibes good-naturedly.

“How’s the mini-Captain going along?” Gunther added smiling, referring to your big baby bump.

“You mean mini-Lieutenant,” Levi says to his squad pointedly. He’s always hoped for a girl. You once joked to him that he only wanted a girl because he wanted to be able to kick their daughter’s future boyfriends’ asses. Levi scoffed at you then, “No shit.”

You just rolled your eyes, “The baby is going along well, Gunther. Healthy and strong just like their father.”

At that, Levi kisses the top of your head tenderly. He then looks to his men, “She’s too good to me.”

Gunther and Oluo chuckle fondly while Eld just raises his coffee cup in salute, “Cheers to that, sir.”

Once you’re settled, Levi asks you quietly, “Will you be alright? I’ll just go and get your food for you.”

You smile up at your indulgent husband, “Yes, I’ll be alright. I’m sure Oluo’s itching to share me the latest gossip, anyways.” You then proceeded to tell Levi what you want to have. “I want the potatoes with lots of butter, okay?” You all but gave Levi your best puppy dog eyes, knowing that he’d protest at you wanting unhealthy food.

Alas, the Captain sighs in defeat. He can’t say no to what his pregnant wife wants. Especially when she looks at him like that. “Alright, fine. For the baby.”

You beam up and give him another peck, “Thank you, darling.” And off Captain Levi went, with you watching the confident strides of his retreating form.

“Who would have thought, huh?” Eld’s voice breaks your reverie. “That our very own Captain and Lieutenant would be married. With a baby on the way, no less!”

“Yeah,” Oluo chimes in. “Who would have thought-- our lovely Lieutenant and our err… less than lovely Captain,” he says patronizingly. Oluo, perhaps more than anyone, would agree that Levi is an exceptional man. But even he could recognize the funny little couple you and Levi made.

You pointed at him, looking past Gunther’s arm which was pouring you a cup of coffee. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Soon enough, Oluo and Gunther started telling you the buzz now that the new recruits have met you. Apparently, the cadets have been convinced that Levi was dating Petra. So you were quite a surprise to them. Eld even tells you how some of the recruits that haven’t met you yesterday—Connie, Jean, and Sasha, he said their names were—even walked up to this table this morning with very determined faces, asking if it was all true.

And with that, you and your old squad just laughed, feeling very much at home with the company.

~

Levi decided not to comment on the knowing smirks that the cooks met him with as he requested for extra portions for his wife. Levi knew he was sight to behold— their formidable Captain, gathering as much food as he can for his pregnant wife.

Levi’s used to it all now, the surprised looks and the gaping stares of soldiers at the sight of his undeniably dazzling wife. He’s also used to the confused looks of eyes darting between him, then to his wife, and then back to him, as if the bastards were trying to compute fucking rocket science. And he gets it. Even he has to pinch himself sometimes that this isn’t all a dream; that he’s actually married to the most riveting woman in the Legion.

But as he walked back, tray of all your favorite food in hand, the sight of you laughing with a hand contentedly resting on your belly was all a man like him needed to be satisfied that you’re real. You’re here, you’re real, and you’re his.

Once he’s sat back down beside you, he can’t help but kiss your temple again.

“Eat up,” he says, and it nearly fucking kills him the way your eyes lit up at the sight of the food.

Fucking adorable.

There was once a time Levi was convinced that he would never be one to have a family. That things like that just aren’t meant for men like him. But seeing you happily doing your little dance at how delicious you thought the food was (a truly very funny sight, considering this is Scouting Legion Mess Hall food.) He wonders what other preconceptions Levi had that you, and now your new baby, would be shattering for him.

After all, it was his own little miracle that you chose to love him at all. And at that, Levi has to agree with everyone else—

Who would have thought, indeed.

A/N: I had so much fun with this one, as usual. Maybe too much fun. I guess I'm incapable of writing short fics huh? Also, my inbox has been filling up, and I'm thinking back on writing The Wingman and The Paramour again so I'll be closing requests.

But hey, if you have any thoughts and questions, do hmu! My ask box is always open, and I love talking to you guys. Far better than talking to myself, I'd say. lol.

Edit: Requests Re-opened! HERE are the rules!

Left Behind Pt. 1

Part Two >>>

Levi x FemReader

Established relationship

Concept: You're gravely injured during an expedition that goes wrong, and in the confusion you're abandoned in Titan territory.

Pt. 1 Summary: Everything had been going far too well, so it only makes sense that when you're reaching record breaking distances beyond Wall Rose that it all goes to shit. Could you blame them really? Leaving you behind? Assessing the sharp point of your femur poking through your thigh you decide, yeah, you could blame them a little. The question now is how you're going to get back to blame them in person. Or rather, how you're going to survive long enough to try.

Warnings (PLEASE BE AWARE this is a rough one): Angst, a lot of cursing, gore, graphic descriptions of injuries, dead animals, dead bodies, Titans, using Titans to survive, burns, starvation, dehydration, (if I missed anything, please let me know)

A/N: This is Part One in a five-part story. The reader centric parts (one and three) are actually inspired by a nightmare I had when I first got into the show years ago. Still love it with all my heart! Levi is only mentioned in this one, but Part Two and Four are Levi centric so stick around if you're interested! This is definitely different from my first drabble post, but I want to show I have some range in my writing - plus if this idea sticks around any longer in my head I'll start having nightmares again, so consider this a personal purge I guess.

-----

You know the moment your eyes lock onto hers, a desperation unlike anything you've felt before clawing up your throat as you reach out to the too young, too scared, too fresh-faced cadet too far from your fingertips. You can see it in the shake of her hands, the quiver of her lip, the wet stain between her legs, she isn't going to help you. She takes one step back, hovering somewhere between the weight of her boots like she hasn't already decided which direction she's going to go in, before a terrifying resolve settles on her face and she sprints away from your prone form partially trapped beneath the corpse of your horse.

Not so long ago, you remember advocating for this particular cadet to join your squad despite her lack of experience. Number One in her graduating class but still choosing to join the Scouts and skills with the ODM gear that rivaled many of their veteran soldiers. You wanted her close during the expedition, wanted to make sure she lived because you had no doubt she could be valuable to the cause with the right mentorship.

You have doubts now.

You can't even remember her name.

And what does that even matter when you're being crushed under the dead weight of your horse, rain flooding what remains of your vision, pain the likes of which you could have never imagined sparking from your right leg up into the delicate curve of your spine.

No one had expected rain so far into the expedition, let alone monsoon calibers of the icy cold hazard. Perhaps you should have given the approach of winter, but nearly two days on horseback with no clouds in sight had led you all into a false sense of security. The goal of the expedition had been simple: ride out as far as feasibly possible, establish a new base within wall Maria, stock it with the supplies you brought along for future expeditions, and return with minimal casualties. Erwin's evasion strategy was practically fool proof given the right circumstances.

Thickets of rain and hail, not to mention a wave of unnoticed abnormals, were not the right circumstances funnily enough.

You're lucky no titans have spotted you struggling to wiggle out from where your right leg is stuck between the unforgiving ground and your even more unforgiving horse. They're too busy chasing after your remaining comrades, now so far you could only distinguish them by the cloud of blue smoke in the distance. Blue, Retreat. But you can't, trapped as you are with your stubborn bull of a horse. She'd always been an ornery beast, nipping at your fingers and hair, playing tricks when you'd try to saddle her properly. You'd lovingly named her Bully within minutes of your assignment to her. You miss her already.

"I'm sorry girl, I - fuck that hurts," you wince, salty tears mixing with the rainwater on your cheeks. "Fuck, shit sorry girl - my leg, you have to let me go Bully...you - shit SHIT! Okay okay okay, deep breaths, deep fucking breaths." Your chest rattles in a way you think it shouldn't every time you breath. You brace your hands against her flank and push. "Just a little more, just - fuck - just a little more girl. You gotta let me go, please please, they're leaving - I have to, shit ow! Walls, you snuck way too many sugar cubes Bully. Ah, shit shit dammit, just let me - !"

Your body flails in the mud, agony pulsing like a heartbeat from your now free leg, arms limp and spent at your sides. You contemplate, for just a moment, stopping there because the next step is looking at your leg, assessing the damage, and you're far too scared to see how screwed you are.

But you don't want to die, not here, not like this. Not when you have someone waiting for you. Levi doesn't deserve to lose anyone else. Walls, Levi. You wish he was here, barking orders at you to get up, get up, get the fuck up, FUCKING GET -

With a gasp of wet air and a cry lodged in your throat, you sit up. The right side of your ribcage shifts unnaturally, but you ignore that in favor of the main problem. Seeing the white of your bone through a tear in your pants has you choking back a sob.

"This is fine, this is - fuck, okay not fine, not fine." You breathe through your teeth, your mouth worryingly sticky and metallic. "Don't - don't think about it, just take stock. Figure out what to do next."

Next, right, what's next? Obviously, the most pressing injury is your splintered femur, the sharp point piercing through the meat and muscle of your thigh. You're fairly certain your knee is dislocated and the awkward bend of your ankle isn't very promising, nor is the warmth pooling in your boot that definitely isn't rain. Okay, so the next step has to be removing your boot and cutting away the fabric of your pants.

It takes longer than you like because ODM gear belts are the absolute worst, but you can't cut them away because you actually fucking need them if you want any chance of surviving. It hurts so much you wonder if you've reached new decibels of pain that no one's ever felt. But you get them off eventually, after a few more muttered curses. Bile threatens to rise in your throat at the discoloration of your leg once you slice away the fabric. You're pretty sure, had you made it to the medics, they would just decide to cut off the leg altogether; but, you can't afford the blood loss even if you could summon the strength for the task.

You prep one of your remaining two short halves of a broken blade, wrapping them in the scraps of fabric from your pants. With no sticks readily available in your reach, this would have to work as a splint for now. You hope they don't cut up what's left of your thigh with the fabric as a cushion. Removing the belt from your waist, you place the leather between your teeth.

Popping the bone back into place is far harder than you thought it would be. Quickly lining up your tailored splint, you pull the belt from your mouth and stabilize your femur as tightly as you can without losing feeling in your leg - although you wouldn't mind some kind of numbness to soften this whole experience. You wonder briefly at what point you'll cross the threshold into shock.

A deep breath that's really more of a resigned sigh pulls you back to the task at hand and you remove your cloak from your shoulders to tear the fabric into strips. Your knee is definitely dislocated, and your ankle is at the very least severely sprained if not broken. Realigning and wrapping them is far easier than taking care of your thigh, but you still curse your way through tying the final knots.

The last bit to take care of has you gritting you teeth in frustration. You don't have any supplies for stitches, but you can't just let your blood flow freely from the gash in your calf. You're not sure if a rock somehow made its way into your boot and sliced you open or if Bully's weight had caused your muscles to pop and split the skin of your calf, but either way your priority is now closing the gash that stretches just below the back of your knee down to your Achilles tendon.

Your fingers scratch at your scalp, tangling into your hair while you try to suppress your panic. And then you have a thought.

Levi swore up and down when he showed you the matching rings he had made that it wasn't a proposal. "A promise," he'd said. "A promise to each other, that we'll do everything we can to survive this war." He'd taken the slightly larger of the two, the one meant for his hand, and threaded it onto a long silver chain to hang around your neck. "And when it's all over, well you know..." and he'd trailed off with a rare blush and a shrug like it wasn't the most romantic gesture he could have made.

You feel that chain now, cold under the collar of your shirt. Sniffling, you unclasp the chain from around your neck and hold it close to your heart. "Thank you, my love," you whisper, pulling the ring from the chain. "And I'm so very sorry."

For the time being, you put the ring on your thumb because it's just snug enough you don't have to worry about it falling off. You hold the end of the chain in one hand and your knife in the other.

It's bloody and messy and the chain isn't even silver anymore by the time you're done, but the gash is closed and you think you have the chill of the rain to thank for the numbness settling into your body. You wrap the remaining scraps of your cloak around your calf.

You know at this point it's too late to follow. Even if you could run, there's no chance you would catch up either before they're all already safe behind Wall Rose again, or a Titan snatches you up for a midnight snack.

"I have a promise to keep," you say with a gentle kiss to the silver on your thumb.

There's a small forest about a kilometer north from your position. With great effort and no small amount of curses, you reattach all of the ODM gear belts to your legs, both grateful and entirely in pain from the pressure they put on your wounds and bruised bare skin. There's no way your boot will fit over the swell of your ankle let alone all of the extra bindings so you decide to leave it behind. You're fairly certain your ribs are bruised, not broken, so you try not to worry about them as you struggle up into a standing position. A wave of vertigo washes over you, but you steady yourself and push through the nauseating dizziness.

Leaning heavily on your blade as a sort of cane, you spare one last look at Bully's body, swallowing the sadness in your throat, and slowly start to stumble your way towards the forest.

You think that cadet's name may have started with an O.

-----

You find what's left of your squad midway between your dead horse and the forest.

Daryl Lepton was still relatively new to your squad, this being your third expedition together. He'd been kind and so very shy. He talked about his younger sister all the time, a little girl with a passion for baking. He always shared the treats she sent to him. Daryl's head is completely turned around, one of his legs and a chunk of his torso missing.

Benjamin Cross was your second, the member of your squad that had been around the longest and you trusted with your life. He trusted you with his own. He was a quiet man, but always made you laugh at the most inappropriate times. Half of Benny's skull is missing, his arms bent all wrong. His chest is caved in and pooling with rainwater.

You'd known Hailey Mitchell since your training days in the Cadet Corps, but she'd joined your squad only a year ago. She thrived on teasing you about your relationship with Levi and trying to dig up all the juicy details you refused to share, respecting your privacy while also pushing any buttons she could reach. Everything below Hailey's sternum is gone, and her eyes are wide with lingering terror.

You take their cloaks for the warmth. You take their patches for their memory. And you take as many intact blades and tanks of gas as you can carry for your survival.

You keep moving towards the forest, tears leaving tracks in the blood on your cheeks.

-----

The rain turns to snow just as you reach the line of massive trees you'd been looking for. Using the ODM gear with your mangled leg is a special kind of agony you don't wish on anyone, but you manage to scramble your way to a high enough branch that you shouldn't have to worry about any titans grabbing you in your sleep - if you sleep at all - while still having the cover of the upper canopy of leaves from the weather.

You wrap yourself in the cloaks of your fallen comrades. Two snug across your torso and head, the third wound around your damaged right leg stretched out in front of you. The bark is icy against your back, and your breath puffs out in front of you in clouds of white.

With the appearance of snow, you know you're beyond screwed. Expeditions are dangerous in the snow. Winter is the Scouting Regiment's slowest season, which is one reason it used to be one of your favorites. The others were distinctly Levi related, of course - like warm cups of tea and the occasional hot chocolate if you can convince Levi to indulge his sweet tooth, holding hands while you each read your respective books in front of the roaring fireplace, nights pressed skin to skin under a mountain of blankets...

Okay, stop, it physically hurts you to think about that right now. Because it's winter, and winter means snow, and snow means at least two months before the next expedition.

Fuck.

You lose your battle with consciousness sometime between the first feelings of thirst settling in your throat and the sound of thunderous footsteps in the distance.

-----

Thirst and hunger become major issues three days later. So are the two titans at the base of your tree that have been staring up at you for the last twelve hours or so.

There's a thick blanket of snow on the ground. Cold has set deep in your aching bones, and the only thing that keeps you from completely panicking is the fact that you're still shivering.

"Look at you two down there," you spit, stomach clenching painfully. "You as hungry as I am?" You shake your head, blinking passed the dizzy spell the action causes. "No, cause you don't actually need to eat anything, you fucking parasites!" The two titans just shuffle around, excited by your movement.

You've been trying to move your leg as often as possible to keep the blood flowing and hopefully limit any lasting damage from the injuries. It hurts like a bitch, but you can more or less bend your knee without dissolving into tears which is a big literal and figurative step in the right direction. You'd pat yourself on the back if your whole body didn't feel like one giant bruise.

"Okay, priority number one is getting rid of Dumb Fuck and Dumber Fuck down there. Priority two, water." Because you refuse to die of dehydration when the ground is literally covered in frozen water. You're spine screams at you as you rise, the tree you've called home the last few days not nearly as plush as your bed at home. You ready your blades, making sure the extra tanks of gas you took are safe on their perch.

Dumb Fuck is the taller of the two, about seven meters if you had to guess, with bulbous eyes, strangely short arms, and a tuft of wiry gray hair. Dumber Fuck is only around four meters, skinny for a titan, and with a smile as wide as it's face is long. It makes more sense to go for the bigger problem first, right?

Wrong, apparently. As you're about to slice through the nape of Dumb Fuck, the littler bastard actually fucking jumps to swat at you like a pesky fly. It misses, of course, because even injured you're still one of the fastest soldiers in the military. You were trained by Humanity's Strongest after all. Plus, titans are slower in the cold, which is definitely a bonus. But having to swerve like that jostles your leg and spine in a particularly unpleasant way that has you toppling towards one of the snow piles.

And you remember why snow is so dangerous. Not just the cold or the wet. Titans practically hibernate under there, and you've just poked the bear.

Dumbest Fuck joins the ranks, all fat and round in the middle, limbs long and gangly - too thin for a torso so large. At least eleven meters, if it bothers to stand, which you aren't sure if it will. Its eyes are sunken, peeking out from behind a curtain of greasy black hair. Its gaze is locked onto you, but no other part of it moves. You quickly decide the other two are more important because they're actually trying to eat you.

It's a fucking process to take down the two titans because you're tired and cold and thirsty and in pain and nothing has gone your way and any second that big one could decide to join the party and -

Oh, you're screaming. That's probably not good, that could attract more titans, so you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood. You're still screaming, you think, but the sound is mostly muffled by your teeth and lips. You stand between the smoldering remains of Dumb Fuck and Dumber Fuck, screaming into your gums because you need the release about as much as you need to stay quiet.

The big one still hasn't moved. Prone on its back, oversized head tuned towards you.

You take a moment to bask in the warmth of the steam from the titan corpses before turning to your quiet companion. It's still watching you, but it doesn't even twitch as you take a step closer. And another. And another, until you're close enough to poke it's hand with your blade. Which you do.

Not a flinch or a tick or a blink. You poke it harder. Nothing. You stab its palm. It starts steaming, but doesn't move. You're starting to get an idea, and it just might be the most repulsive thing you can think of.

But you're so cold. And it's only going to get colder.

"This may be the best worst idea in history. Hange would be losing their shit right about now." You cut off its hands first, and then sever the muscles in its shoulders. It still doesn't move, even when you carefully creep up to its face and cut away its jaw. Just watching you with its sunken eyes. You shrug at it, unable to discern what, if anything, it’s trying to tell you in its gaze.

"Nothing personal," you say as you stab into its protruding gut and slice a sizeable hole. Titan blood steams in a puddle around you, but there doesn't seem to be any kind of stomach acid that could eat away through your clothes or skin. "Gotta stay warm, right?" You grimace, already regretting the brilliance of this idea, but your eyes lock on the silver band around your thumb, and resolve hardens in your chest.

You might be the first person ever to willingly subject yourself to a titan's stomach.

Steam billows around you as you widen the gash you made. It's stiflingly hot, which you decide is better than the deathly cold you've suffered through the last few days. The feeling is so relieving in fact, you don't even notice at first the red splotches forming on your hands, your skin burning away as it comes in direct contact with the muscle beneath the titan skin. Not until the pleasant sting of heat turns into a white-hot flash of pain that has you stumbling back into the snow. Pressing the burns into the frost only creates a new pain that has you hissing through your teeth.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Okay, alright, new approach." You sacrifice two long strips of one of the cloaks, Benny's you think, and wrap each of your hands like oven mitts. "Note to self: Try to avoid skin contact with your new furnace."

You situate yourself in a small nook you carved in the titan's gut, wondering what's become of your life in only a few days, and you allow yourself to hope for just a moment that you might make it through the next two months alive.

You scoop up a pile of snow nearby not drenched in titan blood and finally, finally, quench that gnawing ache in your throat.

-----

A few hours later, as the sun is beginning to rise, you remember you're hungry. Or rather, your stomach cramps so violently, you realize you're starving.

And you have no idea what the fuck to do about it.

Any plants you could eat have either withered away from the cold or are buried under so much snow you wouldn't even know how to start looking. Any animals you could kill are already dead, hibernating in places you can't find, or migrated somewhere warmer.

You're pretty sure titan isn't edible, and even if it was - which isn't something you particularly want to test - the thought alone somehow triggers your gag reflex despite not having had anything in your stomach for days.

But then you remember something awful.

"I'm going for a walk," you tell your furnace, your back itching from the prickly sensation of its stare. "If you heal up, I don't know, please don't wait around to eat me or something." You wave halfheartedly and start hobbling south.

-----

You stare down at Bully, now five days dead. Surrounded by snow, but luckily not completely buried. Luckily for you anyway. No visible rot, no bad smell or spoiled looking skin, no maggots or flies or disease that you could discern. Her body is preserved in the ice from the storm.

"You've always taken such good care of me, Bully," you whisper, resting your bandaged palm against her mane. "I'm so sorry, my precious girl."

With blurry vision, you start cutting.

-----

When you get back to your little makeshift campsite, you first recut all of the mobility points on your titan that still hasn't moved. Better safe than sorry, though it is regenerating rather slowly; you make a mental note to ask Hange if the cold could affect something like that next time you see them.

You go about making a fire from bark trimmings, a pile of twigs you pulled from branches, two rocks to light the spark, and some loose thread for kindling. You need to cook the meat before it spoils. You'll go back for the rest of it tomorrow.

"Looks like we're stuck with each other," you mumble, fumbling through starting the fire with cloth-wrapped hands and the two slippery rocks. "Giving you a name won't be the worst thing I've done today. How 'bout it? Any thoughts?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you meet the titan's unwavering gaze and wait for a response you know will never come, even if it had use of its jaw. You remember a kid from your childhood. Similarly gangly, all elbows and knees. He had a stutter. He used to make fun of you for being scared of bugs.

"I'm gonna call you Preston," you decide. "Any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Preston doesn't say a word.

The rocks spark, the fire catches.

You think about what Levi is doing right about now, his ring cold against your thumb. He must think you're dead, they all probably do.

You wonder what that cadet told them after abandoning you to die.

Left Behind Pt. 4

<<< Part Three

Part Five >>>

Levi x FemReader

Established Relationship

Concept: You're gravely injured during an expedition that goes wrong, and in the confusion you're abandoned in Titan territory.

Pt. 4 Summary: Levi doesn't want to learn to live without you. He doesn't want your pillow to lose your scent or you clothes to gather dust or your journals to go unread and unfilled. He's terrified for the day Erwin replaces the you-shaped hole in his strategies with a new Squad Leader, a new set of soldiers in line to replace your subordinates, your friends, who are just as unaccounted for as you. Levi has to learn to breathe without you and, honestly, he'd rather suffocate in your loss than get used to a bed without you beside him.

Warnings: Angst, cursing, depression, angry outbursts, grief, suicidal ideations (but no actions), Levi is a sad boy in this one, graphic nightmares, self-destructive tendencies (If I missed anything, please let me know)

A/N: Part 4 everyone! Sorry it's been so long! We're almost finished, thank you so much to everyone who's enjoyed the series and sent me kind words. If you want to be added to the taglist, comment below! If you're interested in making a request, check out my page for more details (I work with a bunch of different fandoms and characters). This one was a bit of a challenge to write, I hope Levi isn't too OOC. I have mixed feelings about how this one turned out, it got a little away from me sometimes, but overall I'm happy with it! Thanks again! And yes, I have a soft spot for Mike. He died too soon!

-----

Mike comes looking for him first, not that it's an especially difficult challenge. Between the giant man's canine sense of smell and the fact that Levi hasn't been able to leave his quarters since returning from his devastating visit to the infirmary, the biggest hurdle is the lock on his office door.

Which he didn't bother to actually lock, too busy wallowing in the reality of you, your body, crushed beyond the wall. Not buried, not even rotting because of the chill and the ice. Frozen in the last terrifying and agonizing moments of your life.

He doesn't even notice Mike has found him until the taller man sinks to the floor next to him. Levi hasn't been counting the seconds, minutes, hours, days since he sat down against the wall in your...in his bedroom, journal with that damning letter between its pages clutched to his chest and eyes locked on the bed he's too scared to approach.

Part of Levi is surprised Mike came to him before Hange or Erwin or any member of his own squad really. The two of them aren't exactly close, with an introduction stained in threats and gutter water and a deal that got his only friends killed. Levi has obviously grown to respect his comrade, but he can't think of a single one-on-one interaction with the man that wasn't work related.

But then he remembers that the two of you are friends - were friends - even before Levi was bullied into joining the scouts. You were on Mike's squad after Erwin rose to Commander before you graduated to a squad leader position. Any lingering surprise fades, but still, Levi is grateful for the half meter or so of space Mike leaves between them.

It's quiet for what feels like a long time, and Levi can't imagine being the one who breaks the silence. He thinks Mike must realize this because he just sits, heavy and warm and still, and he stares as resolutely at the bed as Levi does.

"Did she ever tell you we were in the training corps together?" Mike eventually asks, his deep voice uncharacteristically soft in the emptiness of the room like he doesn't want to disturb the air if he can help it.

Levi is thankful for the consideration and mumbles a barely-there 'no' in response.

"I joined later than most soldiers, nearly into my twenties actually," the blonde continues, keeping that gentle rumbling tone. "I have a big family back home. The second oldest of five, all boys, all practically carbon copies of me." He pauses here for a long enough moment that Levi wonders if that's really all he has to say. "I fight for humanity, fight as a scout because I believe in Erwin's cause, but I initially joined the military for a much less noble and much more selfish reason. I joined to get away from the plan my family had set out for me. I wanted to break the mold my brothers had all fallen into so easily."

"Tch, why are you telling me this?"

But Mike just pushes on like Levi hadn't spoken - maybe he hadn't, his tongue feels swollen and his throat tight. "Most cadets in the training corps start between the age of fourteen and sixteen on average, but there was this tiny twelve-year-old girl in our ranks that year. I'll give you one guess as to who that little girl became."

Your name gets stuck in his chest, but neither of them need to say it to imagine that small girl. Levi thinks about what you must have looked like at that age, probably too small and too innocent, all baby teeth and pigtails and thin limbs with none of the built up muscle he knows you to have, but still just as passionate and kind and you.

Picturing that tiny version of you standing at attention next to hardened cadets, whatever Commandant existed before Shadis screaming in your face to scare you, break you, mold you into the perfect soldier, and Levi thinks about if he could go back in time to warn that little girl away from her path to suicidal heroism even if it meant erasing all the time you shared together. At least you'd be alive, far away from the tragedy of this life. Maybe married, maybe with kids. Happy and safe.

Nausea crawls up Levi's throat when he realizes that picture doesn't include him. Selfishly, he can't wish for that reality either.

The sound of Mike taking a deep shaky breath brings Levi out of his spiral. He chances a glance to his left and holds back a frown at the despair he sees in Mike's posture.

"She was always the butt of the joke, y'know? Youngest, smallest, one of only a handful of girls. Easy target. Even to our instructors." Mike scoffs, large hand running through his hair. He has a smile curving his lips, but Levi can see the melancholic edge to it. He's never actually heard Mike speak this much before, let alone this familiarly. Levi isn't really sure how to feel about it. "I started eating lunch with her. I think I was hoping if everyone saw me, the oldest and biggest one there, favoring her then they'd back off. I didn't find out until years later that they all just got better at hiding it."

Levi frowns, wondering why you never told him about your time in the training corps, about the bullying, about Mike. But then, he never asked. Too busy wanting to know and love and cherish the you of now that he never thought much about the you of then. The past has always been something he wanted to leave behind, learning about yours prompted the possibility of inviting you into his own. A possibility that held him back from you for so long, too long. Wasted time. He wishes more than anything he could ask why you decided to join the military so young, what you were like as a child, as a cadet, how you became the person he loves so much.

He knows some of it. No siblings, dead parents, the hardest worker he's ever known. It's not enough, it'll never be enough. And now he can't ask you.

But he can ask Mike.

"What was she like?"

"Back then?" Mike seems to roll many possible answers between his teeth before he finally parts his lips. A sad smile pulls at his cheeks. "Small, smart, real quiet at first...so fucking strong. Not just with the bullying, I mean literally strong." He barks half a laugh, covering a sniffle with a swipe to his nose. "She took hand-to-hand combat so seriously during training, more than anyone. A few lessons in and she knocked me off my feet. I would have been embarrassed if she didn't look so proud. Not smug or arrogant. She, uh, she did this little dance, pumped her fist in the air, laughed. Not even at me, just laughed, like she couldn't believe what she did."

Levi can picture it, a smaller you and that little jig you do for every worthwhile accomplishment. You still do it, goofy and ridiculous, and he misses it. Every promotion, every bet you win against Hange, every time your squad comes back with no casualties. That thought has bile churning in his gut.

You did it the first time he kissed you, not that you knew he saw you do it. It's one of his favorite memories.

"I think it was that day," Mike's voice drifts, bringing Levi back into the moment, "she became more to me than just a fellow soldier. She's the little sister I never had and didn't realize I wanted, has been since she smiled and held out a hand like she could actually lift me to my feet and asking me if we could spar again."

"She was."

"Hm?"

"She was your little sister." The words taste bitter and bite like acid from his throat. "She can't be that anymore."

Levi's pretty sure under any other circumstances, Mike would have hit him. He can see the larger man in his periphery, fists clenching and unclenching on his knees, deep unsteady breaths ruffling his chest, eyes glaring hatefully at the floor.

It's a long anger-filled moment before Mike speaks again, his voice carefully controlled - more familiar to Levi than the soft grief he'd spoken with the last several minutes. "What each of us lost out there, it's different Levi. I lost a sister, Hange a friend, Erwin a trusted ally, you...you lost what you lost. I can't speak on that, on how you move forward from that. But me? I don't stop caring just because she isn't here to be cared for."

Levi swallows, eyes stinging as he stubbornly grapples with his grief. Part of him thinks it'd be easier to give up loving you now that you're gone. Because it hurts so fucking much and he doesn't know how to make it stop. The rest of him is terrified of who he'd become without that love. His fingers flex around the journal, hoping Mike doesn't ask about it next.

"She is my little sister, she'll always be my little sister, even if she isn't here to knock me on my ass and laugh."

Mike leaves Levi with those parting words and a brave hand gripping his shoulder, kindly closing the door behind him.

The room feels small without you to warm its corners. Quiet too. He stares at the bed the two of you shared for months now, trying to remember the last thing he said to you, wondering when he last told you he loved you, and realizes something he may have to actually thank Mike for later.

You are the love of his life, and that will never change. A tear warms his cheek, but he doesn't bother to wipe it away. Levi wishes you were still here to be loved.

-----

Nothing helps him move forward, but at least training keeps him busy. With the harsh weather wracking against the rickety walls, shuttering the windowpanes, and snow piling high like stones, Levi thrives in the chill settling in his bones amidst the raging storm and the extra challenge of the wind curving his swings unpredictably.

Levi doesn't order his squad to join him - not when his objective has more to do with the emptiness of you at his side than honing any actual skills - but they're behind him anyway. Dependable and strong and showcasing every reason why he chose them in the first place. Your squads were close, elite as they always have been, and he knows they're feeling a heavy loss as well.

He accidently walked in on Gunther comforting a sobbing Petra two days ago, drying tear tracks flashing on the taller man's cheeks. All Levi could do was clutch the letter in his pocket, now wrinkled and soft from being unfolded and read and folded over and over and over, while offering as understanding a nod as he could manage before leaving them to it. Normally he'd have a word or two of support, if not encouragement, but he hasn't managed more than a few syllables since his conversation with Mike.

The wind is sharp like razors, nipping at any weak points of exposure on their skin. Levi knows a kind of cold from his childhood, of loneliness and damp and death and no sun rising on any future days. This cold reminds of that. His heart withers at the reminder of future sunrises without you - the first sunrise without you.

He's grateful the clouds of every storm since their return, blizzards you once told him back when he didn't know what weather meant or how it felt, have blocked the sky and sun and the stars at night. Not ready to see them, to experience them, without you to point out fake constellations or make up stories about the sun chasing the moon, never catching it, but rising everyday to try again.

Somehow, he's become the sun in your relationship, and the reality of that has his throat tightening. Pulling air into his lungs burns more than it soothes.

When he finally notices the chattering teeth of his comrades, following a harsh wind and a fresh drenching of snow, he orders them inside to change, eat, and warm up. Petra asks if he's going inside too. He's never been a liar.

They stay out with him until he decides the chill of ice in his veins and snow in his eyes is no longer cold enough to numb him.

-----

He's somewhere dark, so dark he can't see anything beyond his hand when he lifts it in front of him. Everything is empty, not cold or hot, wet or dry, or anything but the soft tickle of grass between his toes. Levi's brow furrows, looking down at the circler patch of green he's found himself standing in.

Why is he barefoot?

His lip curls at the thought of the filth he'll have to scrub away later. He's dressed in the pajamas you often coax him into wearing instead of his uniform to bed. Plush long pants, low on his hips with a drawstring and a material that feels just as good against your skin as it does his own when you twine your legs together throughout the night, and a simple t-shirt he tends to forgo in exchange for the relaxing tingle of your fingers dancing doodles onto his chest.

You.

Where are you? Why aren't you here with him? In this dark empty place. A place seemingly untouched by bad or evil or tragedy, but also unknown to goodness. Maybe that's why you aren't here, chased away because of your kindness and compassion and smile. The possibility has panic twitching under his skin. His fingers flex at his sides, itching to lace with yours and trail loving touches down your cheeks. He needs to find you, to see you.

Levi takes a cautious step forward, dew drops soaking into the soles of his feet that has his nose scrunching distastefully. He takes another. And another. And another.

Nothing changes. Not the light, not the grass, not the pitch blackness that seems to be drawing him in as much as it's pushing him away. But he's moving forward, or...it feels like he is.

There's a sudden pressure on his shoulder, but when he spins around, nothing is there and he wonders if he imagined it. A few more steps and then it's back, a gentle press of what feels like a hand between his shoulder blades. It's familiar and comforting and reminds him of a home Levi never thought he deserved, let alone could actually attain. He knows it's you.

It's you pressing into his back, now both of your hands kneading into his muscles, molding the sharp edges of his bones. His eyes drift closed. He feels a warm gust of your breath against his neck, instinctually tilting his head to give you more access, to feel you as much as you're willing to give him. A ghost of your lips brings goosebumps to his skin. Levi doesn't turn this time, doesn't open his eyes, terrified you'll disappear and he'll lose your touch, your breath, your warmth.

Your hands wind around his chest, tracing your name onto the spot his heart beats for you, the shape of your body he's come to learn so well pressed wholly against his back. A scent so uniquely you surrounds him, drawing him further into your arms that now cradle him so so perfectly. Your lips reach his ear, breath fanning across the ridge and he sighs in contentment, waiting for your voice to reach him.

"You abandoned me." It's a whisper, intimate and soft in his ear, but the words grate along his skin and make him freeze. "You left me to die." It's your voice - the voice that soothes him to sleep, that laughs at his jokes, that sobs and screams and sings and melts into his heart - but they're the wrong words, the worst words. Words you would never say because they could never be true.

Why are you saying those awful words? Why are you driving a blade into his chest, squeezing his lungs, tearing into his heart until his bleeding soul is exposed?

Levi's eyes snap open and he whirls around, but you're already gone and that same dark emptiness seems to expand around him, suffocating in a way it hadn't been before. He falls to his knees, trying to draw in breaths as he chokes on your name. The air feels heavier, pressing him down into the grass, snapping at his joints and crushing -

Crushing. That's right, you were crushed. You were alone and scared and crushed beyond the wall. And he left you out there.

Levi hears what sounds like a horse's hooves thundering on the ground, a sound as familiar to him as his own footsteps. He manages to look up despite the pressure of the air on his neck holding him down, gritting his teeth at the effort it takes.

He sees Bully. He sees you, fully decked out in your gear, rain plastering your hair to your skull, fresh blood steaming on your blades and your hands as proof of a recent kill. You don't see him, riding Bully directly passed his kneeling point, but he sees you and he screams. He screams so agonizingly his throat splits and blood pools on his tongue. He screams for you to stop. Stop stop stop STOP! Don't go! DON'T -

Levi sees the titan before you do, but the air is pinning him down and he has no gear, no horse, you're too far away, and the titan is raising its fist. The world cracks beneath him when the fist comes down, your blood and Bully's blood spraying the titan's skin in a macabre painting of gore. Nausea and horror attack his stomach, but nothing comes up except his pleas for you to come back to him.

The hoof beats start up again, Bully running by with you riding strong on her back. Levi fights against the air, clawing at the ground and his skin and wailing at you to slow down, to wait for him. He'll save you, he'll protect you, he'll -

The ground beneath him cracks again as the titan stomps on you this time, your limbs stuck between its toes and blood leaving prints in the grass as it runs.

And then Bully is back, coming from another direction, only to pass by Levi's begging pitiful form again. The earth splits a third time when Levi is forced to watch the titan grab for you, squeezing until you pop between its fingers and dribbling your remains down its throat.

He has to watch again and again and again as you're crushed over and over and over. With every death a new crack severs the ground below him, the air pushing him down and down and down.

Kicked into a tree.

Flattened between two heavy hands like a bug.

A casualty of a clumsy titan's tripping body.

Slapped into the ground.

Chewed and split between a titan's teeth.

He's forced to see every way your death could have happened, fingers knotted in his hair, his voice raspy and broken from his screaming, begging and begging and begging.

Eventually there are too many cracks, and the earth opens up below him, swallowing him whole.

Levi welcomes the fall, wondering if he'll see you at the bottom.

He blinks awake, a heaving breath expanding his chest and fingers grappling for some kind of purchase. Levi's nails dig into the plush blue arms of your reading chair he's taken to sleeping in on nights he can pull himself from his desk and dare to rest in the room you shared. It still smells like you, holds the shape of you in a way that's strangely comforting.

The bed stays untouched, gathering dust because Levi can't even bring himself to shake out the sheets.

He has this nightmare every time he sleeps for more than an hour. It tears into his heart and lingers, blackening any solace he tries to find in his days. He pretends a large part of him doesn't look forward to the dream because at least he gets to feel you, to see you, even if it kills him a little more each time.

Levi doesn't know how it happened, but he knows you were crushed. There are so many ways to be crushed.

He doesn't bother to wipe away the tears on his cheeks until the sun rises and the day starts, even though they make his skin sticky and his eyes crusty.

-----

Levi is unwilling to risk the health and safety of his squad more than he has already - Oluo had a cold for days after the last impromptu training session in a blizzard - so instead he splits his knuckles in the gym and perspires enough that his sweat drips like fresh rain.

The sand bag is stained with his blood since he hadn't even bothered with wrappings to cushion his fists. He thinks his pinky might be broken on his right hand, it's purpling and bruised, but the pain spurs him on because you're not here to scold him or fix him or spot him when he trains. Maybe if he keeps going, you'll come barging in with a lecture on your lips and bandages in your hands because, no matter how angry you are, you would never leave him hurting.

Except he's hurting now, and you're nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Hange steps into the gym, a flask of water and a small bag under their arm that he knows is a first aid kit. They don't approach him. They don't stop him. They take a seat on one of the benches lined up against the back wall, set aside the supplies they brought, cross their arms and legs, and they watch him. They wait.

Levi pummels his knuckles until they're raw and numb and more red than flesh. He eventually drops down next to Hange when it takes more effort to breathe than it does to punch, bracing himself on his knees with his elbows. His hair has grown too long, untrimmed bangs hanging in front of his eyes when he leans forward, but he's more grateful for the barrier than he is annoyed by the length.

Without a word, Hange opens the kit they brought and pulls out some cloth, alcohol, and bandages. They soak one of the cloths in the alcohol and reach for the hand closest to them, which also happens to be the one with a broken finger.

Levi hisses between his teeth at the sting of the alcohol on his cuts, but otherwise doesn't protest or complain. Spotting the bright bruising on his pinky, Hange again reaches into the kit, and pulls out supplies for a small finger splint. The clean white bandages are speckled with his blood, but the process overall doesn't take long when neither of them are talking.

When Hange is finishing the wrappings on his broken finger, they sigh and gently hold his damaged hand between their ink stained palms. "I saw Oswin this morning too," they murmur, brow furrowing and rare frown pulling down their lips. "I wanted to tear her hair out as much as you probably did. I'm only half glad neither of us followed through."

Theodora Oswin had been reassigned to a new squad considering she was the last surviving member of yours and still far too green to take on any kind of leadership role. He hadn't seen much of her since the expedition, which he's grateful for, but that morning in the mess hall...

He'd gone for a fresh cup of tea, foolishly hoping this time it wouldn't be bitter like ash in his mouth, when he'd seen her with her new squad mates. Laughing.

The mental image of her jaw cracking under his fist was enough to have him turning on his heal and seeking out the gym, forgoing the tea because the cup would have shattered in his grip anyway.

Levi rumbles a noncommittal sound in his throat and lets Hange finish tying off the bandages on his other hand.

Neither of them move to stand. They sit until long after the sun has set and dinner is over and curfew is in effect. Levi doesn't say anything about the occasional sniffle that shakes Hange's shoulders. Hange doesn't say anything about the way he laces his fingers, gripping so tightly the bandages stain red.

-----

Sometimes he stands in front of your collection of journals, itching to read them, to know parts of you he shamefully never asked about. Wanting to hear your voice in the words you wrote. But he doesn't because you never gave him permission into that part of you, not explicitly, not beyond a few pages. It feels like an invasion of privacy, and really, he would be disappointed no matter what he finds because it doesn't matter. Not when you aren't here to read the passages of your life to him. Not when you aren't here to add to the collection. Not when he can't be a part of every passage in your future.

But he does stare at them often.

-----

When the snow starts melting and there are no clouds to block the sunrise, Levi hides away in his office so he doesn't have to watch it. Curtains closed, head in his hands, your goodbye letter unfairly crumpled in front of him. He's thought about burning it, about tearing it up, about writing back to you. He does none of those things and just reads it again.

There's a knock on his door, so he calls out a gruff, "Name and business," while frantically folding the letter and tucking it in his breast pocket.

No one answers him, but when Erwin walks in, any irritation on that matter fades quickly.

"The snow is melting," he says like Levi hasn't nearly slipped in the sludge and barked orders at fearful cadets to shovel the pathways. Levi nods at him to continue. "The next expedition is planned for three weeks from now so that enough of the excess water either dries up or soaks into the ground so our horses can travel safely."

Levi knows this procedure, it's the same every year. He's confused why Erwin feels the need to spell this out for him.

Absentmindedly, he thinks about how three weeks from now will be exactly three months since you...didn't come home.

"What's the point of this, Erwin? I already know all this shit."

"We're taking the same route as the last expedition." Levi's jaw locks, air stalling in his throat, and he barely hears when Erwin goes on. "It's still the quickest path to Wall Maria and Shiganshina, if we can make it work safely in our favor."

"We lost a third of our soldiers going that way, Erwin. We lost - I lost - "

"Which is why," Erwin interrupts with a condescendingly raised hand that has Levi curling his lip into a snarl, "you and your squad are staying behind. I can't afford you being distracted by what we might find."

Eyes wide in disbelief, Levi's on his feet and rounding his desk to spit fire at his Commander. "Are you fucking crazy? We're your best defense against those shit-ugly fucks and you want to bench us because you think we can't handle seeing our dead comrades? Like we haven't seen enough of them anyway."

"It's you, Levi. I don't think you can handle seeing her."

Levi shakes his head, willing his composure back into place. He can't prove Erwin right, he needs to calm down, needs to square his shoulders and hide the agitated trembling in his hands. "Leaving us behind is a death sentence for the rest of the battalion. Don't do it, Erwin, don't risk the lives of all those kids on some misguided feeling about what I can and can't handle." He takes a deep breath, meeting his Commander's eyes with a defiant jut of his chin. "Trust me, the way you have since the beginning."

A moment passes with Erwin studying Levi's resolve, eyes trailing across every twitch and line of his face in scrutiny. He eventually seems satisfied with his assessment, gives a final nod, and turns to the door.

But Levi has one last thing to say, something that he needs to spit out before it rots and spreads in his chest. Something he needs to ask his friend, not his superior. "Do you even care?" He doesn't have to say about what for Erwin to understand.

He eyes the way Erwin's hand tightens on the doorknob, the way his shoulders wilt the slightest bit. "Of course I do, Levi. You forget I knew her long before you did," he says softly, a deep sadness in his gaze that surprises him. "But someone in my position doesn't get the luxury of grieving. I thought you would have figured that out by now."

Levi knows that, of course he knows that. But this is you, and he can't imagine anyone not breaking under the oppressive weight your absence has caused. Maybe Erwin's broader shoulders are just better under the strain. Maybe the weight Levi carries is greater because of what you mean to him.

Maybe he's just so fucking tired and wants to know how Erwin keeps going each day like nothing happened while he can't even sleep in his own bed.

Maybe convincing him that he can hold it together on the expedition was a mistake.

-----

It's not a mistake, but it feels like one.

Three weeks went by in a blur of training, prepping, and choking awake from nightmares before almost every dawn. Now they're outside Wall Rose, nearly halfway to the point of disaster that hit them last time, no rain in sight. They've managed to maneuver the formation around all but three titans, taken care of easily and quickly by the outer reconnaissance squads.

Levi can't decide if he's anticipating or dreading the inevitability of sinking his blades into a titan that gets too close. Energy is buzzing under his skin, the kind that shifts unpleasantly and threatens the stability of his hands.

He's not sure what he wants to find. If he even wants to find anything.

A purple flair in the direction of Erwin's squad at the front of the formation has Levi dialing in his focus, signaling his subordinates to make haste towards their Commander. His brow furrows, however, when they see two fallen and long since steaming titans. Erwin's squad stands unharmed but stationary between the two disintegrating corpses, Erwin himself looking rather contemplative with his arms crossed and his prominent brow angled harshly.

"No one looks like they're being torn apart," Levi grunts as he sidles up next to Erwin. "What's the situation?"

"There's someone alive out here."

"Tch, what the hell are you talking about?"

Erwin gestures at the two dead titans. "They were already down and steaming by the time we got here."

"You sure a squad didn't just break formation?"

"Pretty sure, we would have seen them pass. This is directly on the route we planned."

"That's definitely our gear though." The napes are sliced cleanly, clearly done with ODM equipment.

"It is."

Before Levi can say anything else, Eld gains their attention with a resounding, "Captain!" He's pointing towards the east where a cloud of steam rises from nowhere near any of part of the formation at its current pace.

"Guess we should go say 'hi' then, eh Erwin?" Levi grumbles, already directing his horse when he doesn't here any orders to stand down. His squad follows close behind, a brace against he's back that he's grateful for. He carefully smothers the warm feeling threatening the shield he's put around the pieces of his heart that are left, unwilling to allow even a drop of hope to settle in his eyes.

Hope is cruel. It will tear him apart from the inside out if he lets it. He can't afford that kind of devastation, not again. Putting himself back together won't be an option anymore if his pieces are dust.

They're coming up fast on the billowing ribbons of steam, two more titans having been felled by whoever got their hands on their gear. Both on the larger side, more than ten meters most likely, and pearly wild grins jutting towards the sky. Levi meticulously surveys the area as they get closer, narrowing his eyes at the flash of dark green through the thick rivulets of steam. He holds up a hand for his subordinates to wait as he dismounts his horse.

"Hey! Who's out here?!" He calls, one hand drifting to his holstered swords as a precaution, the other waving away the steam as he ventures further. "Think it's fun? Playing the hero with stolen gear!" Levi taunts, eyeing the veteran looking slices in the napes of the corpses. Another scrap of familiar green catches his eye. "Hey! You!"

A few quick steps and another wave of his hand because of the steam and he spots a figure messing with one of the blades for their gear. Maybe trying to decide if it's still useful as they swipe it back and forth, carefully looking at the now jagged edge. Must be too dull because the next second, Levi watches as they toss it too the ground and go for what looks like their last fresh blade.

"You're out of formation, Cadet," Levi chastises, raising an annoyed brow when whoever it is just ignores him in favor of replacing the blade. Confusion has him frowning when he eyes their uniform, because it's clearly the same pieces of the scouts uniform, but they're all out of order. Boots, one larger than the other. White pants cinched over top the boots instead of inside, obviously too large for the slighter frame of the wearer. More belts than the normal uniform calls for and in all the wrong places. Big sweater - backwards he notices - and the cropped scout jacket only has one sleeve. Green...gloves? He's pretty sure those were pieces of a cloak, though not the same one they're wearing. The cloak is bundled up around their shoulders and over their head, goggles hiding their eyes.

Familiar goggles. His breath catches in his throat, disbelief bleeding into his eyes.

"Mitchell? That you?" No response, but he can tell whoever it is is listening. "Hailey? Hailey Mitchell? It's Captain Levi," he holds up his hands placatingly, wracking his brain for some details you shared with him about the girl. "C'mon brat, let's go home, yeah? See your mom?" The figure seems to pause, and he's almost sure it must be her when the cloth covered head nods weirdly after a few muffled murmuring sounds. But then she plants the blade in the ground like a cane and starts limping away from him. Levi is shocked still, not understanding why she's moving in the opposite direction, away from him. Away from help.

He doesn't know how she survived out here, but it's just one of the many questions speeding behind his teeth at the moment. They'll all have to wait.

"Mitchell stop! I order you - tch, Hailey!" He chases after her, easily catching up when she has the obvious mobility disadvantage. Impressive really, that she managed to kill at least four titans with a busted leg. You'd be proud of her. When he reaches Hailey, he grabs for her wrist to stop her little adventure away from the people trying to help her. "Fucking brat, where do you think - "

Levi pauses, feeling the poor girl go completely rigid in his grasp. He curses himself for not thinking because, Walls, she must be so scared, so weak but -

But she's reaching for the goggles and the cloak. He doesn't know why he's holding his breath, but he is and his chest is burning and there's a stinging threatening his eyes and now he suddenly never ever ever wants to let go because...because...

He’s staring into a face he never thought he'd see again.

Hope is devastating, but it's also the only reason any of them have made it this far.

-----

Taglist:

@everything-is-hollow @ashbash2403 @purplecandygerl @roseelilly @barnesbabyy @pissbabybitchboy @ekaymnslvs @dazzling-roaring-20s @iloveinej @gojosbucket @logibearhockey1 @beefcakebarnes @lilshades @leviackermanmyhero245 @mochalate @whattheheckmidoriya @ursa-the-stranger @answer-the-sirens @levibabe20 @otomaniac @roseelilly @mmo1997 @macehysteria @lqme @snailsposts @kiss4kazu @isabellawigginss @lawlerek @sluttydarlin @zirbsy @tsukilover11 @ekaymnslvs @saturnsjustabouthadit @madmadamemimble @kamizama @geese-goose18 @fckwritersblock @skeletondeerart

SO GOOOOOOD!!! one of the best aot fics I have ever read!! 😭❤️

Left Behind Pt. 5 (Finale)

<<< Part Four

Levi x FemReader

Established Relationship

(~14k words)

Concept: You're gravely injured during an expedition that goes wrong, and in the confusion you're abandoned in Titan territory.

Pt. 5 Summary: Home is not the steaming cavern of warmth you made for survival in the one docile titan in existence. Home is not chewing on snow for water or rationing jerky made from your own horse. Home is not a limping gate and flashes of your dead comrades in the edge of your vision. Home is his fingers grasping your wrist so you know he's real and the look in his eye when he realizes you aren't Hailey Mitchell.

Home is not the empty bed that frightens him more than gnashing teeth the size of people. Home is not his desk piled high with paperwork he either avoids or uses as a distraction, in perfect view of a warn-in and soft blue reading chair. Home is not bleeding knuckles and broken pinkies and grief-filled conversations with his fellow soldiers. Home is you, a little worse for wear, but alive and in reach and fuck - he really hopes this isn't some new nightmare rearing to tear the floor out from under him.

Warnings (if you made it this far, you know the drill, but just in case): Angst, cursing, graphic descriptions of injury, injury recovery, hallucinations, frightened violent outbursts, sedation, needles, aftermath of dehydration and starvation, threats, trauma, dissociation, suicidal ideations (If I missed anything, please let me know)

A/N: Did I make myself cry writing this? Yes, yes I did. I briefly debated make this into two parts because it's so long, but I promised you a 5 part series!

The POV will be switching between characters in this one, I tried to make it as obvious as possible with page breaks (-----) so hopefully no one gets confused!

I know this is a long one (~14k words) so if you think I should split it into two parts for easier reading, let me know!

As always, thank you to everyone who has supported this story and all of my work thus far. It means so much to me that you enjoy my writing and it absolutely makes my day when I see people engaging with my work and the kind words you have. More content is coming from me, but for now this is goodbye to Left Behind!

-----

Sometimes - the kind of sometimes that's often and exhausting - when the dead members of your squad are taunting and jeering and stalking the corner of your eye, it's their corpses trailing behind you.

Instead of Benny's kind, laugh-lined smile and strong broad shoulders, his arms hang twisted and bloody at his sides with a concaved chest arching his torso forward unnaturally. Only half a crooked grin with gore between his teeth and the chunk out of his skull festering with flies. He hobbles and winks and reaches with fingers bent all the wrong ways like he wants to caress your cheek and listen to your sorrows.

Hailey has to hold tight to Benny's neck and shoulders as what remains of her torso bounces like a backpack with his every lumbering step. No hips to sway or legs to dance with. Her innards hang loose and bloody, eyes always wide and frightened despite the cheery teasing she spits between bloodied lips. She often asks for her goggles back or makes biting little comments about the endless steps you take as if you're actually getting any closer.

She makes you think of purgatory and afterlife and traps you in the one chasm of hopelessness you're desperate not to fall down. That this is your eternity. That you died that first night you fell asleep in the cold and the damp and this is the forever you deserve. Wandering and thinking and never knowing if you're actually breathing when the air tastes stale and metallic. It's hardest to tune her out.

Daryl usually hops quietly beside them, precariously balanced on the one leg, but when he wants his turn at licking insults and screaming blame, he has to bend his torso in half so his twisted around head can face the right way. He mostly stares and weeps, the tears wetting his forehead instead of his chin, and begs to trade places with you because his sister is small and kind and needs her big brother.

You're rarely sure you wouldn't trade places given the chance.

Sometimes the injuries stay the same but the faces change.

It's Hange's manic grin leering over Moblit's wilting torso as they fire question after question like bullets into the marrow of your bones. Questions about Preston more often than not that have your head spinning and your heart longing and your feet sometimes backtracking to the forest you left him in when you're not paying attention.

It's Mike bouncing and shifting on one leg, nearly toppling in a way that has you wondering if the ground would shake when he has to bend clumsily forward to sniff in your direction, but Nanaba catches him before he can with a gnarled arm bent in too many places for elbows while she buckles under the considerable weight of Erwin's severed torso clutching to her back. They hiss at you and stare and weigh you down without saying much at all.

The roles shuffle between members of your squad and members of Levi's squad, cackling and sobbing and raging. Petra screams and Oluo's split tongue lolls out of his missing jaw and Eld laughs between bouts of choking on blood and Gunther snarls passed the tear tracks burning from popped eye sockets.

Sometimes all three of them are Levi.

Sometimes all three of them are you.

Sometimes there's no injuries at all and you want to sink into a blissful ignorance as if the glimpses of their smiles or the light sound of their comforting voices are as real as the blisters on your hands or the cramping in your stomach. But those thoughts are dangerous and cruel and almost always leave your eyes twitching painfully.

You're not sure which is the greatest hell, but you find that as long as they stay at the edge of your vision, unacknowledged, unwitnessed, untouched by your attention, focusing on taking one step after another is manageable.

So when you're fresh off two titan kills and you hear your love's voice calling out taunts to the make-believe hero playing with stolen gear, you don't blink twice and instead inspect your blunted blade. The edge is jagged and dull and likely wouldn't cut through your own soft skin let alone the tough hide of a titan's nape. You decidedly toss the useless metal to the ground and reach for the final blade in your arsenal as a replacement. Levi is adamantly stomping towards you in your periphery, a characteristic frown to his brow and hands prepped near his gear, but you know he'll only get close enough to teasingly breeze by your skin before fading away like he does every time.

Close but never close enough. There but never actually there.

Your focus narrows on the reattached blade, jaw clicking and tongue like dry dirt in your mouth. Water, the last time you had water was a muddy puddle nearly half a kilometer back. It's been harder to find since the snow melted, however long ago that was, you're not really sure.

"Mitchell? That you?"

Huh? Your head tilts, brows furrowing when Levi's voice drifts closer to you. With a quick scan, you try to spot Hailey's mirage tag-teaming with Levi - wouldn't be the first time - but her ghost doesn't seem to be haunting you like Levi's at the moment.

"Hailey? Hailey Mitchell? It's Captain Levi." He says that like his voice isn't ingrained in your mind, more familiar to you than the sound of your own at this point. Levi's gotten closer, hands raised like you might jump out at him if he steps wrong. "C'mon brat, let's go home, yeah? See your mom?"

"Mom? Mom's dead," you murmur, the words are garbled and slurring between your dry sticky lips. Your tongue feels swollen, teeth too thick with plaque and gums raw. Everything tastes coppery. "Home, 'm goin' home. That - that way." Your head bobbles, satisfied with the direction you picked. Firmly planting your blade in the grass, you hobble along despite the sharp twinge that pulses in your hip with every step. For a moment, you think Levi must have faded like he always does, but then -

"Mitchell stop! I order you - tch, Hailey!" You're not sure why your brain has conjured a Levi that thinks you're Hailey, but as you absentmindedly listen to his footsteps racing closer, you think how you've lost enough control of the fragments of your mind that the why probably doesn't matter much.

You wish he'd fade away already. A Levi who can't recognize you is more painful than the one that hates you. Ignoring him is easy though when you know he'll never reach you. He never does, an eternity of reaching but never touching.

But then there's a pressure, a tightening around your wrist that you logically know must be fingers, except that's impossible so it has to be something else. Something that isn't the steady grip of a hand you know so well, fingers long and always always so gentle despite the gruffness he tends to carry in his shoulders. Your whole body tenses, rigidly freezing like stone so acutely you think you've stopped breathing. It's impossible for that grip to be real and you're suddenly terrified that you've fractured again, that your mind has gotten crueler, that you can't even trust what you touch anymore when it's been your last tether to a reality you're no longer sure is actually real.

Eyes flickering, you spot Benny, clean and unharmed and daring you to turn around with a kindness in his eyes you've missed more than clean water. You decide to trust the version of him you knew in life and brave a look over your shoulder.

It's still Levi, though admittedly a part of you thought it wouldn't be, and your chest stutters cruelly with hope when you eye the way his hand wraps your wrist. You can feel the heat of his skin, the pressure of his fingers, the small tremble in his palm when he flexes just so. Your breath catches because he's there and he's close and he's touching you.

The goggles are in the way and - and the cloak, you need them off, you need to see. Your blade drops to the ground when you reach for the green fabric, feeling unbalanced and small and terrified. The leather straps on the goggles catch in your knotted hair and the cloak is sticky with your sweat, pulling unpleasantly at your skin in your haste to take it off, your makeshift glove unraveling in the process. But then they're gone and your eyes are clearer than they've been in months and he's still standing there, holding your wrist, holding your racing pulse between his fingers.

He's so beautiful.

You risk a step closer, and another until you're nearly chest to chest. His breathing is off, silver eyes wide and sparkling and alive in a way you're sure your mind could never replicate. Not this, not your Levi. You raise your hand, fingers shaking as you hesitate half a second at the curve of his jaw. What if this is what shatters his image? What if this takes him from you again? Is that worth gambling? Your lonely heart chooses for you.

He's solid under your fingertips, warm and soft and everything you've missed about your life together. Your hand moves to cup his cheek, thumb swiping at the stray wetness under his eye when he leans into your palm, and for a moment you wonder if you've somehow crossed the threshold into a heaven you were never meant to find.

"A-are you real?" Your eyes sting when you ask the question, only slightly shocked you have any water left to spare for tears, and your voice grates like razors in your throat, but there's no room to care when salvation is in your reach. "Are you my Levi?"

You meet his gaze again, startled by the pure heartbreak you find in his eyes and you think this is it...he's going to fade and you're going to whither in this purgatory forever, always waiting, always alone, always on the edge of oblivion. Your hand drops to your side, cold without his skin beneath your touch, and your eyelids slip closed as you stumble back.

"Trick, another trick, ano - " you choke, words lodged in your shredded throat as you suck in air, in and in and in until you're on your knees and all you can do is scream...

-----

Terror holds a vice on his windpipe that Levi isn't sure he can shake because you're here, in his reach, in his hands, and if he blinks you might just disappear. Good things don't just happen, not to him, but there you are, breathing and touching him and your fluttering pulse is under his fingertips.

Except you're asking if he's real. As if the miracle is his beating heart instead of your own.

Agony rips through his chest because he knows...he knows. Good things don't just happen, and nothing good has lead you to standing before him now, broken and battered and shaking in your very skin. Before he can take that next step, hold you close and assure you that he's very real, that he's taking you home, that he'll protect you this time, you're already pulling away from him so abruptly that panic joins the cluster of emotions in his throat and he stutters forward after you too late.

Levi knows that your scream will haunt him for the rest of his life.

He's on his knees in front of you with no memory of taking the steps to do so, your name a repeated mantra on his lips as he reaches out for you. His palms find your cheeks, pulling you up just enough that he can press his forehead to yours.

"I'm real, I'm real, I'm real, I promise I'm real," he chants over your scream, hoping to soothe you with his words and his touch and your name on his lips because he doesn't know what else to do when you're unraveling between his fingers. Minutes or decades pass kneeling in the grass, trying to grasp onto any thread of calm, until eventually you quiet into small hiccupping whimpers that pull at his heart. "I'm here, I'm real. It's over, you're safe, you're safe...I've got you now, I've got you."

Your hands dance across his wrists, up his arms to grasp his shoulders tightly, and Levi knows he'll bruise under the grip of your fingers, but he couldn't care less. You're breathing and you're shaking and you're so fucking alive that Levi feels euphoria pulsing in his veins. It's a kind of relief, a kind of gift, he never thought he deserved, but this...this second chance the two of you have been given, he'll cherish every breath of it.

He can't help the small curve of his lip or the tears in his eyes when your voice joins his mantra. The repetition of, "You're real, you're real, you're real, I'm safe and you're real, you've got me, I kept my promise, I kept my promise," in your parched raspy voice is like music to him.

A wet laugh bubbles in his throat, thinking of the silver ring hanging by his heart. You came back to him, you kept your promise.

But then he's reminded where they are when Petra calls to him over his shoulder. "Captain! Captain Levi, we heard a scream, we - "

Levi chances a look behind him, not even surprised when your iron grip tightens further, as afraid of him disappearing as he is of losing you, but this is still titan territory. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Walls, he has so many fucking questions, but he bites his tongue.

His first priority now is getting you home.

Petra and the others are huddled a few meters back, as shocked into stillness as he had been, with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "C-Captain, is that - ?"

"Fire off every purple signal flare we have, I need Hange and a med cart here now!" Levi wonders if they can hear the tremble in his throat or spot the wetness in his eyes. "And Petra, my waterskin!"

It takes nearly three seconds for them to move at his orders, but Levi's already turned back to you, still mumbling that mantra under your breath.

He taps your cheek, trying to get your shining gaze to meet his own again, swallowing at the haziness he finds there, the desperation he's been feeling for months sparkling in your eyes. And then he's really seeing you, heart cracking in his chest at the hurt he finds in every divot of your face, every stain on your clothes, every stuttered breath in your lungs.

You're here, and you're alive, but you're definitely not okay.

Your cheeks are sharper than he's ever seen them, gaunt and hollow with a starvation he knows all too well. Eyes sunken into their sockets, heavy purpling bruises darkening under the curves of your lids. There are red blotchy sores along your jaw and neck from the sun or itching or both, scabs bubbling on your dry lips, dirt and sweat and blood freckling across your sallow oily skin. Your hair is longer, tangled with knots and grass and who knows what else. He's suddenly terrified what they'll find under you tailored scraps of a uniform.

"A-are they real?" You ask him so quietly he has to strain to catch the words. Brow arching in confusion, his mouth drops open to ask what you mean when you speak before he can. "Which...which ones are real? Petra...she must be because you - you spoke to her dire - directly, but the others...you - I - which ones - " You ramble on air, eyes flicking between him and the purple smoke now drifting over his shoulder, panic sharpening the tense curve of your spine.

Levi holds back a frown, tapping your cheek again in the hopes of helping you focus. Your ramble stops, but your breaths are too quick and eyes too wide. He carefully places your hand over his chest and takes a deep calming breath, finding he needs it as much as you probably do. "Follow me, breath with me, I've got you," he coaches with a soft voice. "I'm real, Petra's real, Oluo is real, Eld is real, Gunther is real. Say it with me."

"You are real," you begin hesitantly, pupils flickering. "Petra is real. Oluo and Eld and Gunther are real. They're real. Petra, Oluo, Eld, Gunther. You, you're real." You lean forward, burying your face in his neck and sighing through the stutter of a sob as his arms automatically wrap around your body. You're solid in his grasp but thin, so fucking thin and he wants to snap at whatever's taking Hange so long.

"I love you, so fucking much." He whispers into your hair he pretends doesn't smell rancid, pulling you closer. Levi can't believe he's holding you again, heartbeat against heartbeat. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he mumbles between reverent sighs of your name because he can't remember when he last said it before your disappearance and he's not willing to let another second pass without making sure you know. He hates himself for ever hesitating to say the words before.

Petra is quickly kneeling by his side, waterskin heavy in her shaking hands as she stares at you in his arms like she's seeing a ghost. Which, for all intents and purposes, she is. Her eyes meet his above your head, and the horror of what it means to find you here alive is clear on her face.

Levi reluctantly pulls back from your embrace, motioning at Eld, Gunther, and Oluo to stay where they are, cautious about overwhelming you. He takes the waterskin from Petra, who's still staring awestruck at his side, and carefully encourages you to tilt your head back.

"Drink," he orders, pressing the spout to your chapped lips, minding that you go slow. Your eyes flutter closed, throat constricting with every swallow, small drips trailing down your chin. He moves the watershin away when you push at the pouch, watching your tongue lick away the extra droplets, and for a moment he's actually startled to see tears in your eyes.

"It's so clean," you whimper through the barest of smiles. It has him both wanting to scream at the unfairness of it all and worship the joy pulling at your cheeks because maybe...maybe you will be okay. Levi trails his thumb along the prominent edge of your jaw and offers as reassuring a smile as he can.

Petra turns her head away beside him to hide the wetness he can see building in her eyes, her hands tucked between her knees to cover their shaking.

Dozens upon dozens of hoofbeats thrum the ground below them, Levi looking over to see not only Erwin's squad, but Hange's thankfully close behind as well. He's relieved to spot a cart among the herd of horses.

You tense in his hold, but he swiftly calms any rising panic with soft words and little shushes. "It's okay, it's okay. They're real, they're here to help." His brow furrows at the way you seem to shrink into yourself, shoulders hunching forward and eyes trained resolutely on the grass. "I want you to say it. I'm real, they're real, they're here to help."

"You're real, they're...are they all real? There's to-too many, not all - they can't all be - " And he watches your gaze lift, stalling on a spot behind him that he knows is nothing but grass and dirt, and you look so scared. How does he protect you from something he can't even see?

"Petra, get Hange, now." Levi doesn't even acknowledge his subordinate stumbling to her feet, keeping his eyes and his hands on you. Your name slips from his lips, attention shifting back to him. "I'm real. Hange is real. We'll figure out the rest when we can."

You nod, leaning into the palm still cupping your jaw. "You're real, Hange is real. They're here to help."

In no time at all, Hange is sweeping you up in their arms, obnoxious sobs quaking their shoulders and all but spinning you around in relief and glee and grief. Babbled combinations of your name and apologies and questions race from the scientist's quivering lip. You're clutching just as tightly to their chest, though he's not sure if it's in relief or fear as you lose any control over your balance.

Levi can feel panic crackling between his teeth when you're no longer in his reach, quickly jumping to his feet to pull you from the vice Hange has on your body.

"Damnit Shitty Glasses, be careful, she's not exactly in top fucking form," he growls, steadying you with on hand at your elbow and the other resolute between your shoulder blades. You're clearly favoring your left leg, and he remembers the heavy limp you stumbled with earlier, the now discarded blade practically the only thing keeping you upright. Levi makes eye contact with an approaching Erwin, but speaks directly to Hange with a curt order searing his words. "We need to get her in the cart so you can do a basic assessment of her injuries on the way back. We're taking her home, now."

That last bit may have been directed at more than just Hange, but he's not about to negotiate anything right now. And neither is Hange if he's willing to trust the resolute look in their eye and the uncharacteristically serious jut of their jaw when they nod in agreement. The two of them stand strong at your back when Erwin finally reaches them, ready to argue and defend and fight if they need to...but they don't.

Erwin engulfs your small trembling body in his broad hold, one hand cradling your head to the beat of his chest and the other wrapped firmly about your waist. "I made the wrong call all those months ago, but I'll make the right one this time." Levi isn't sure if he imagines the tremor in Erwin's voice when he says your name, but the shock flashing in Hange's glasses makes him think he probably didn't.

Slowly, your hands come around Erwin's back, fingers grabbing at the green fabric of his cloak for purchase. "Erwin...Erwin's real," you hum, rocking further into his arms for balance. "I want to go home."

"We're bringing you home, soldier."

Levi sticks close, joining you in the back of the cart with Hange not far behind. He's careful to settle you gently in his lap, legs on either side of your waist, with your back pressed to his chest. You rest your head just below his chin, tightly lacing the blistered fingers of your right hand with his own. He's as grateful for the physical tether as you probably are.

While they wait for the convoy to regroup and prepare to set out back towards Wall Rose, Levi encourages you to drink more water with a not so subtle nudge of the waterskin against your lip. The flicker of a teasing grin he spots, small and gone between two blinks, has his heart warming in his chest and a fresh wave of relief curving over his shoulders.

He's never been so grateful for his reality before.

As much as he tries to refrain from indulging in fantasy, there's always been a small part of himself - locked away in a tiny box at the corner of his mind with the memories of his mother's singing voice and Isabel's cackling laugh and Furlan's gentle smile - that yearns for a reality without titans. One with a quiet tea shop to his name, no blood staining his fingers, and your soft hand twined with his own.

Now all he can think is he wouldn't care if their world burned to the ground, ravaged by the beasts of burden, not as long as your heart beats and your warmth permeates his chest.

Levi's knocked from his musings when Hange rocks the cart, loudly clattering around the tight space with a medic bag at their hip. They take a cautious knee by your side, an awkward lilt to the curve of their toothy smile and tears still shining in the corners of their eyes.

"Right then, what hurts sweetie?" They ask, but from the way you squirm in his hold, Levi's sure everything probably hurts. He gives Hange a look over your head, nostrils flared and stoic brow arched just so. They laugh nervously, scratching at the back of their head. "Okay, okay, um any open wounds? Anything bleeding or in dire need of stitches?"

"Nothing life threatening or that I haven't already taken care of," you whisper, words hesitant like you're ashamed to be hurt at all. Levi bites on the scoff he wants to let out. "My um, my right leg is pretty fucked up. It's why, uh, why I was - why I couldn't..."

"It's okay, it's okay," Levi mumbles close to your ear, tightening his hold. He knows what you're saying, that your leg is the reason you didn't catch up or make your way to the wall. His lips brush against your temple, reminding himself you're here, in his arms, alive.

Hange is eyeing your leg, clearly wanting to see the injuries for themself, but they shake their head instead. "Well, best not to mess with anything as long as you're stable until we know what we're working with. The medics at headquarters will be far more thorough, but in the mean time, just tell me the most pressing parts."

You nod against Levi's chest, body stiff and uncomfortable in his arms. He can feel you twiddling with Hailey's goggles in your lap. Questions about your squad float behind his teeth. Your voice sounds far away, and he can tell you're back there, back to that day. "A titan had, um, swiped at us - me and...and Bully." Levi mouths the word 'horse' at Hange's confused brow, not wanting them to interrupt you. "Just out of nowhere in the rain, this massive hand...then I was on the ground, leg stuck under Bully's body. She was - she was already..." You take a deep breath, whole body shuttering with the flutter of your ribs. "Broken." You gesture to your thigh. "Dislocated." Your knee. "Cut open." Your calf. "Broken" Your ankle. "I did what I could...I - " You turn, looking up at Levi with wide watery eyes that have fear pulling at his throat. "I had to eat Bully."

Levi closes his eyes in sorrow, touching his forehead to yours. "You did what you had to, you survived."

Hange clears their throat, looking awkward as they pull at their collar. "Any, um, anything else?"

Levi finds himself wanting to ask about the hallucinations, about what you're seeing that has you so frightened, but he swallows the words.

"I'm pretty sure everything is bruised in some way," you actually joke, pulling half a smile from Hange. "Oh, and - um..." You pause, pulling your hand from Levi's lingering grasp to unwind the scraps of fabric on your left hand. Levi's chest constricts at the sight of two severed stumps, burned on the ends. The silver ring he gifted you all those months ago with a promise in his heart shines safely on your thumb. "Frostbite, weeks ago, before the snow melted. I didn't want it to spread."

He knows the image of you having to cut off your own fingers will appear in his nightmares. He knows every injury, every tear, every scared whimper will haunt him with the rest of his failures.

Hange stops asking after that, holding their tongue and carefully hiding the horror in their eyes with a flash of their glasses. They try to make you as comfortable as possible with spare blankets as the jostling of the cart knocks you all back and forth. Erwin heads the convoy, obviously, with Levi's squad and Hange's squad flanking the cart on either side as a protective guard. Levi spots Mike's squad joining their ranks, stationing themselves at the back of the cart with hard eyes focused intently on your trembling form in his arms. He shares an understanding nod with the larger man.

When they pass through the gate into Trost, blissfully lucky to have not encountered any titans on their retreat, Levi can feel the tension bleeding from your body, a heavy breath lowering your shoulders. A hiccupping sob stutters in your chest that has him shielding your head from the crowd that gathers in the streets to greet them home with complaints and insults and misguided assumptions.

Levi grits his teeth, holding back on the same urge to knock heads and split jaws that hits him every time ignorant assholes scream about tax dollars and wasted time and worthless sacrifices. Instead, he places his palms over your ears and wraps his body around yours as a protective barrier, burying his glare in your neck.

The medics are waiting for them at headquarters, Erwin having sent a scout ahead to warn them about their arrival, so Levi is quick to pick you up in his arms, stable behind your back and under your knees, careful about the movement of your leg. He hops off the back of the cart, jerking his head to the nearest wide-eyed medic, an older woman named Martha if he remembers right, to get her to follow him. She's close on his heels, listening to Hange as they explain the basics of what they know of your condition to Martha.

He handles you like delicate fractured glass, carefully placing you on the nearest bed in the infirmary. You frantically grapple with his arm, panic surging in your eyes. Levi traces your cheek, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here the whole time." He ducks his head, holding your gaze steadily. "Say it with me. I'm real, Hange's real, Martha is real. She's here to help."

You smile so beautifully through chapped bloody lips that his breath catches in his throat. "You're real, Hange's real, Martha is real. She's here to help," you repeat, tapping his hand on your cheek.

Martha steps up to the other side of the bed, pulling a tray of supplies behind her and shuffling a clipboard in her hands. "Okay, Squad Leader Hange has filled me in on your situation. I'm so sorry, dear." She speaks calmly and clearly, a gentle authority to her tone. He can tell she's experienced with frightened and traumatized patients, she'd have to be working within the Scout Regiment. You wilt away from her, but still offer a hesitant curl of your lips in return. "This may be scary to hear, but I think we can do our best to help you if you're sedated. I know - " she continues quickly as you stiffen with trepidation. "I know that's not ideal, but I need you to trust me. All we want to do is help."

Levi frowns, not particularly fond of the idea either, but a quick questioning look at Hange makes the decision for him. The concern in their expression is evident, nodding in agreement with Martha, and Levi trusts that Hange knows what's best in this situation more than anyone. He looks down at you, meeting your quivering eyes as he says again, "I'll be right here the whole time."

You're shaking your head, hovering between pulling back from him or burrowing closer to his chest. "I - what if I don't wake up?"

"You will," he promises with a reverent whisper of your name.

"And what if I do, but I'm...but I wake up back out there, alone. I c-can't, I can't, I can't, I - " you spiral, fingers gripping at your scalp, fist pounding at your temple that Levi is quick to stop with his own soft hold.

"I need you to trust me," he kisses your hand. "You will wake up, and I'll be right here waiting for you." Your eyes are shining, wet tracks pulling through the grime on your skin, but you nod with him and turn back to Martha despite your rightful fear.

Martha carefully rolls up your sleeve, and the sight of your too-thin arm and bony wrist splotched with sores and bruises ranging from deep purple to murky green to fading yellow has despair bubbling in his throat. The needle goes in at the juncture of your elbow. Levi holds your hand through your flinch, squeezing tight when your body shudders.

"I love you," he murmurs into your ear, caressing his fingers against your cheek as your eyes slowly close, body going limp on the bed.

Martha reaches for some scissors on the tray. "We need to start by cutting away her clothes. Squad Leader Hange, if you could help me. And you, Cadet..."

"Petra Ral," the strawberry blonde answers, stepping forward from where the rest of Levi's squad is standing at attention. Erwin, Mike, and Moblit are all there as well, hovering just at the threshold of the infirmary.

"Please Commander, we need privacy," Martha implores, saluting the Commander with the scissors held tight in her fist, tone firm and bordering on orderly. "I'll take good care of her, you have my word."

Erwin clenches his jaw, looking from your prone form to Martha before settling on Hange. "See that she does."

"Of course, Erwin, you know I will."

"We'll be on standby just outside should you need anything."

As they file out, Mike lingering half a moment longer than the others, Martha turns her attention to Levi. She stares in a manner that has his hackles rising. "Captain Levi, sir, I understand - "

His lip curls into a snarl, hands clenching at his sides. "I'm not going anywhere."

She frowns, but nods in resignation. "Right then, let's get started."

They start with removing the ODM gear, a painstaking process that he's glad you're not awake for. Then they move onto cutting away all of the belts and scraps of leather you have tied securely around your wrists, ankles, waist, and collar - probably to help insulate against the cold and wind and frost of winter. The oversized clothes and boots come off next, clothes that he's suddenly realizing came from other solders - big as they are - more questions building on his tongue.

The find a dry, wilted daisy in your pocket.

The sight of your right leg has nausea stirring in his gut. Martha carefully unstraps the belt holding together the makeshift splint on your thigh, Hange focusing on the wrappings on your knee, calf, and ankle while Petra delicately holds up the limb for easier access. Your feet are blistered and raw. Deep flowering bruises, old and new, decorate your once soft and unblemished skin, dried blood browning around half a dozen different scabs and sores. The muscles of your leg have atrophied, smaller and with none of the strength he knows you to have. Your femur clearly punctured the meat of your thigh and your calf - Walls, Levi can feel a tremor in his spine. The cauterized wound stretching the entire length of your calf has memories of burning human flesh singing his nose and mixing with the nausea dangerously.

He can count your ribs and sharpen his blade on the edge of your collarbone. Joints all red and raw from sweat and overexertion and itching from the filth of months in the wilderness. Your arms are bony, the point of your elbows fragile, and your stomach has caved inward with starvation, pelvis bones jutting forward under the sallow stretch of your skin. Levi can't help the wetness in his eyes, turning away for a moment because he knows what this kind of hungry feels like, knows it better than most.

It's something he wouldn't wish on anybody, let alone you.

"She has lice, the poor thing," he hears Martha sigh over his shoulder, glancing behind him to see her reaching for the scissors again. She's going to cut your hair, she -

"No, no don't," Levi's quick to grab her wrist. He's not sure why, but the idea of shaving away your hair feels like a betrayal, like just another thing to trap you in this experience instead of moving forward. He can't undo anything, but this...this he can fix, this he can save you from. "Focus on her injuries, I can take care of the lice."

Memories of his mother's fingers combing little itchy bugs from his scalp shift behind his eyes, the smell of vinegar and the rare luxury of steaming water linger in his mind. He goes to the hallway, looking directly to his squad.

"Oluo, Gunther, go to the kitchen. I need vinegar and two large pots of hot water. Eld, my quarters. I need towels, soap from the shower, and the two small combs in the cabinet under the sink. And," he adds after a second thought, "a t-shirt and sweats from my wardrobe for her after she's been bandaged." Levi nods in thanks to their salutes.

Mike steps forward, a rare hesitancy in the deep curve of his shoulders. "How is she?"

"Alive," Levi says because it feels like the only true thing he can say. He clears his throat for a proper update. "Mostly old injuries that need cleaning and stabilizing. Sores that need disinfecting. More than anything she needs food, water, a fucking bath, and rest."

He swipes his hand down his face, suddenly so very tired.

"Hey," it's Erwin's hand on his shoulder, holding him steady when he fears he's about to fall apart. "You brought her back, Levi. You did that."

Levi frowns, brushing away his Commander's attempt at comfort. "No, she did that. I left her to die three months ago."

"Under my orders."

"You think that matters?!" Levi hisses, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth rattle. "I could feel it, I knew - my instincts were telling me to find her, that something was wrong and she needed me. I ignored every part of me screaming to look for her in favor of being the perfect fucking soldier."

Mike steps forward, shaking his head. "We thought she was dead, Levi. We thought she was..."

"Crushed," Erwin finishes, a harsh curve to his prominent brow.

Something red and hot and violent boils in Levi's chest. "Find Oswin."

-----

Waking up is harder than it's ever been. Your body feels heavy and sluggish, something you thought you had gotten used to in the cold and the damp and the rough, but this is different. This is the kind of fatigue that blurs your vision and pulls you down into the depths of unconsciousness with kind welcomings and warm caresses.

Waking up this time is hard because you're not sure if you want to.

But then you remember silver eyes and feathery black hair and the rarest kind smile that makes your heart skip and your breaths stutter. The promise of a silver ring. You remember finding the love you've been enduring eternities of hell for.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes sting at the harsh light of the morning sun shining through the window, and you're half tempted to burrow further under the blanket to chase away the light.

Window. Blanket. You're in a fucking bed. In the infirmary. At headquarters. It was real.

You scramble into a sitting position, heart pulsing in your throat and aches pulling at your limbs with every movement. Hunched forward, hands clawing at the blanket to draw it away, your eyes flicker over the fresh clothes - a white shirt and gray sweats you know to be Levi's - and the clean bandages on your arms.

Running your fingers through your hair, scalp feeling raw and itch free, marveling at the lack of knots and tangles and dirt. Everything is sore in the most pleasant way, in a way you know is healing and safe, lacking the twinge of infection.

Levi's ring is still on your thumb, a little cold and shining like it's been cleaned. You press it to your lips, a comforting habit you've formed over the lasting months.

Looking to your left, tears spring to your eyes and warmth floods your chest at the sight of Levi passed out and contorted uncomfortably in the wooden chair by your bedside. "You kept your promise," you whisper, fighting the urge to lean forward and brush the fringe from his eyes because you don't want to wake him.

"Morning!" A cheery voice calls from your right, startling you so much your neck pops when you turn to them. It's Petra, smiling, gentle, kind Petra. She's standing with her hands behind her back, relief shining in the lights of her eyes, pink in the apples of her cheeks. "How are you feeling?"

You offer a clumsy grin, small because it pulls uncomfortably at your chapped lips. "Tired, mostly."

"I bet." A soft chuckle shakes her shoulders. "Well, we're glad to have you back. It's been...it's been hard."

You frown, brows drawing together. Something about the curve of her smile is off; the way she's looking at you has your teeth on edge. You shuffle under the sheets. "How...um how was he?"

Her face seems to crack, twisting cruelly with darkened eyes and a hateful manic grin that could never belong to Petra. "You abandoned him, how do you think he was?"

"I - I didn't - I," you stammer, head shaking. You came back, you came back. Levi knows you didn't have a choice. He knows that, right?

"You left him, you let him suffer, believing you were dead for months. It's your fault."

"It's not, it's not, I didn't - I came back," your jaw shakes, tears slipping off the curve of your chin. The sheets bunched and crinkled between your remaining fingers. "You weren't there, you don't know - "

A frantic call of your name has your words stalling, whipping to your left to see Levi sitting up with a worried curve to his brow. "Who are you talking to?"

"Pet - " you swallow the lump in your throat, looking back over your shoulder to see no one there. "Petra, I thought - she was real, she's supposed to be real. I don't - I..."

"Here." Levi hands you a clear glass of water, resting his other hand on the top of your head, a kind of understanding in his gaze that has your lip quivering. He's real, you know he is from the warmth that bleeds from his hand into your scalp. "I can ask someone to get Petra, if you want. I'm sure she'd like to see you."

"No!" You nearly shout, an embarrassed blush warming your cheeks. "No, no that's okay." As a distraction, you take a deep drink of water. It's cold and clear and clean, smoothly gliding down your parched throat. You're not used to it. It cramps in your hollow stomach unpleasantly, and for a moment you think it might make its way back up your throat, but you swallow through the nausea. The unfamiliarity, the strangeness, of clean water has you practically pitying yourself and the urge to hide your face grows.

Levi sighs beside you, leaning his hip against the edge of the bed and crossing his arms. "I'm not going to force you to talk about it, any of it. But," he makes sure to hold your eye, "it might help."

"That's rich coming from you." You wince as the words escape without your permission, an unreasonable defensiveness building in your aching joints. They were venomous and cruel and you regret them immediately. "I - I didn't mean that, I'm sorry. It's just - "

"It's okay," Levi gives you a tight-lipped smile that you're sure you don't deserve. "Like I said, I won't force you." He pauses, rolling his next words on his tongue. You almost hold your breath, shaking for the moment he pushes you away, tells you he moved on, blames you for it all. "You once told me to be patient with myself, now I'm telling you the same. What you went through..." Levi trails off, and he's never felt further away from you. "You need time to heal, that includes up here." He pokes your forehead, fingers dropping to cup your cheek soon after.

Relief floods your chest, more grateful than you have words for that this bleeding-heart of a man cares for you. Loves you even. You're not sure how you managed to trick him into it, but you cherish it all the same.

You lean into his hold, giving half a smile in return. "I sound smart, when did I tell you that?"

But then he's reaching for his pocket, pulling out a crumpled, stained slip of parchment that has your blood stalling in your veins and any content in your smile to slip away. A letter, your letter. The letter he was never supposed to see; a jinxed precaution you cursed yourself for writing every time you did it. "At first, I thought this letter was the cruelest thing you could have done to me," he says softly, tracing the aged edges of the page like he's scared it will fall apart in his grasp. "Then it became the only thing I had left and...just, thanks - for, um, for writing it."

You reach for his wrist, drawing your thumb over his pulse point and reveling in the beats you feel there. "I'm sorry you ever had to read it."

"Me too."

"I love you," you're suddenly desperate to say, to chant, to scream with all the air left in your lungs. "I love you so much, Levi. More than anything. I'm sorry I got stuck." Your vision blurs with tears, happy or sad or just devastated in every way you could be.

He taps his forehead to yours, palm still warming your cheek. "I'm sorry I left you behind," he chokes on what you're scared may be a sob.

You're already shaking your head to deny his apology - you don't need one, you don't blame him - but he's already leaning into you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is all that you've been craving for months. It's comfort and love and warmth. It's wet with your shared grief and sorrows and relief. It's safety and it's grounding and it's your Levi.

It's everything. It's home.

His lips are softer than yours, gently caressing the cracks in your skin like he's scared you might fall apart. You're scared of the same, but he's there and he's real and you can easily push away any lingering fear with Levi's perfect touch.

Martha finds you two a few minutes later, Levi nearly lounging on your bed beside you, hands laced in your lap, exchanging gentle loving whispers to each other. You're half-surprised he doesn't pull away when the woman comes in, but you think he's just as starved for your warmth as you are for his. A wonderful quiet has settled between the two of you that you could just bask in for a better eternity, for that heaven you've been searching for. You're almost upset to be interrupted, but you also really want a shower.

You look to Levi with a question in your eyes, and his answering nod is enough for you. She's real.

"So good to see you awake, dear," Martha greets with a cheerfulness you don't share, but you're grateful someone can manage that bright of a smile. "It's been nearly two full days of rest for you. How are you feeling this morning?"

Two days doesn't seem right when your bones sting with fatigue and your eyes are still playing tricks, but you remember the sedative and just decide your body probably needed it instead of questioning the absurd amount of time that's passed. You hesitate to offer the same answer you gave to the very not real Petra when you first woke up, but it's the truth, so you use different words that mean the same thing. "Just...exhausted I think, and achy."

Martha hums, nodding her head as she makes notes on a clipboard. "To be expected of course. Any dizziness? Nausea?"

A lie is on the tip of your tongue because the fact that water made you nauseous is embarrassing and weak, but lying wouldn't help anything except maybe your ego, but that's hardly your priority at this point. "I had some water a little bit ago, it stayed down but it didn't...feel right. No dizziness though."

Levi squeezing your hand grounds you in that moment.

"Proper hydration and sustenance is something you've been lacking, you're body is in survival mode, using every facet to keep you going. It will take some time to readjust, especially with food." Martha seems to stall as if she doesn't want to move on to the next part. You're not sure if you want to hear it. "Most of your major injuries have healed about as much as they're going to since they happened months ago. You did a remarkable job caring for your wounds despite your limitations."

She pauses again and your teeth rattle with impatience.

"But...?" Levi actually speaks up, a protective arch to his brow and back stiff like he's expecting an attack.

"But..." Martha repeats, a tired sigh lacing the words. "You need to be prepared for the likelihood of permanent damage. The break in your femur, especially, has healed enough that slight pressures won't be a danger, but that doesn't mean it healed well. Your limp has put extra strain on your hips that's concerning for your future mobility."

"What does that mean?" You think you know, but you need to hear her say it.

"You won't be able to move the same way you did before, and if you're not careful moving forward in this process, it may get worse. I'm aware - " she says before you can interject, " - that you were able to successfully operate the maneuver gear on several occasions despite your injuries. That doesn't mean you're okay; in fact, it probably exacerbated the breaks and made everything worse. You had to survive, no one begrudges you that, but you don't need to survive in here anymore. You can't take those kinds of risks if you still want to be able to walk at all."

"You're telling me to quit the military." Your breath catches, panic seizing in your chest. You can't leave...this life is all you've known since you were twelve. Leaving - leaving isn't an option, it can't be; and Levi, you can't lose this, lose him again.

"I'm cautioning you about taking care of yourself. With the state of your leg and your hand, I'm advising against any field work. You'll likely need a crutch for the rest of your life. However, you're still a valuable asset. I'm sure the Commander already has a place planned for you in his personal counsel." She may be sure, but you're definitely not.

A crutch. For the rest of your life? Useless, you feel useless. Weak. She called you valuable, but all you can think is you've lost all purpose beyond breathing.

Your hands are shaking, lips pulling down into a deep watery frown as you fold into yourself. Forehead pressing tightly to your knees as you try to catch air, hips and spine aching at the angle. "I ca-can't...I need to be out there, but I can't - "

"You need to heal," Levi's voice is stern by your ear, calm and steady and him. "Don't worry about anything else."

"B-but..." Your words are wet and so are your cheeks, sniffles shaking your shoulders. "It terrifies me - the thought of going back out there. Of seeing those things, of fighting, of getting stuck. But it's scarier to think that I can't stop this from happening to anyone else."

"That's not your responsibility."

You shake your head because he's not getting it, but you don't know how to form the words, how to make it make sense. Maybe it doesn't make sense, maybe you're just deluding yourself into thinking you'd make any kind of difference at all. Still, the idea of being benched is somehow both like acid in your mouth and warm relief in your chest.

It's not like you have a squad to lead anymore.

Martha clears her throat, drawing your attention back. "Are you feeling any significant pain or discomfort anywhere? Anything you're concerned about?"

Answering that is harder than you thought it would be. Everything hurts, everything needs time to fucking heal. You're concerned that you'll never be able to move forward from this. But you don't say that.

You clench your jaw, looking down at your hand linked with Levi's in your lap, that damn letter teasing the edge of your vision. Patience. You think of Levi's finger poking your forehead. That needs to heal too. You're starting to hate that word, 'heal'. It makes you feel weak. "I've been...been seeing things."

"Oh? Bad dreams? It's unfortunate, but certainly normal for your circumstances."

"No, I mean..." You pause, squeezing Levi's hand to keep you stable. "I got sick a few days after - " you wave around your left hand, Martha and Levi following the gesture to the bare scarred stumps. Levi swallows, but Martha only nods for you to go on. "I had this really bad fever and started seeing things...people that aren't real. I lost all track of time. And even after the fever passed, I still - they're still there."

There's pity in Martha's eyes that has shame shriveling on your tongue, as if you had any actual control in these circumstances. "Fever induced hallucinations are common for high temperatures. You know what else can cause hallucinations? Sleep deprivation, prolonged dehydration, physical trauma and blood loss, hypothermia, extreme isolation, all of which applies here. Your body has been balancing on the edge of shutting down for weeks. Whatever you're seeing, good or bad, is part of your body's way of coping."

"My body is making me see visions of my dead friends walking around to fucking cope?!" You snap, anger and frustration curling your lip. You can't look at Levi despite his steady hand on your shoulder, the upset he feels at your words clear in the frigid grip of his fingers. You can't handle this...this thing in your head that thinks it's okay to exploit your fallen comrades. Your friends. But it's not Martha's fault, so you try to curb the bite in your next words with a deep breath that threatens to turn into a yawn. Exhaustion still pulls at your eyelids and wilts your spine. "How do I make it stop?"

Martha just smiles kindly. "Time, same as all the rest. Patience with yourself. Routine would probably help. You need to reacclimate to your life here. In the mean time, I suggest you keep up whatever you've been doing to help you differentiate between the hallucinations and reality."

You focus on Levi's hand, on his pulse under your fingers. "Touch helps." You trace his knuckles, marveling at the softness you find there, looking back up at Martha. "When can I shower?"

The woman barely holds back a chuckle at your question, and you spot Levi turning away with an amused smirk. "You're well enough that staying in the infirmary won't make much difference. The rest is up to you." The words are spoken to you, but you notice the sly flicker of her eyes up to Levi. Honestly, you can't find it in yourself to be upset, you want to be taken care of so badly your nerves ache. You're sick of doing it yourself. "Before you leave, I want you to eat something. We'll start light, of course, just some bone broth, work our way up from there, and plenty of water."

After the near miss with the water earlier, you're hesitant about the idea of food, but you know you need it and you have to start somewhere. Bone broth is easy, thin like water and stale in flavor. The inner pep talk isn't quite as convincing as you want it to be. It's a hurdle you'll cross when you get to it.

"Thank you, Martha." You reach for her hand, squeezing when her aged fingers grasp your own. "Really, thank you for everything."

That kind smile is back, the one the reminds you of a long dead mother, and you feel more tears stinging in your eyes. You'd complain about being a fucking crybaby, but you decide you've earned the privilege and bask in the brush of Levi's thumb under your cheek. "Squad Leader Hange will be in with your food soon. While you wait, you have a couple other visitors waiting outside if you think you're up for it."

You offer a crooked grin with less than half the mirth you'd normally feel, but you guess that's something else to work up to as well. "I refuse to sleep until I get that shower. I'm up for a couple extra distractions."

"Of course, dear, I'll send them in." With a last lingering smile, Martha heads to the door. "Oh, and before I forget, Welcome Home soldier. You've been dearly missed." She's gone before you can say anything else, though you're not sure you could even manage half a word with the surprise blocking your throat.

Watching Erwin and Mike step into the infirmary isn't exactly surprising, but it does have you unconsciously straightening your spine. You're not sure why, but the idea of anyone other than Levi seeing your frailty is almost upsetting.

Hailey trails behind them. Hailey with legs and a smile and the goggles you know so well. Hailey who you know is dead, but she skips like she's alive.

You look to Levi, who blinks in understanding. "Erwin and Mike," he clarifies in a whisper, and when you look back, Hailey is gone.

Again, you expect Levi to pull his hand back when Erwin and Mike approach your bedside, but he doesn't. Just holds tighter and swipes his thumb across your knuckles.

Your relationship was never a secret, but it has always been private. Touches and kisses and loving words only shared behind closed doors. It feels strange, but you welcome this new side of Levi that revels in your touch despite prying eyes. Letting go, you decide, would be as devastating as losing the air in your lungs.

Mike gets to your side first, large palm engulfing the crown of your head when he leans forward to get a big whiff of the nape of your neck. He stands tall with that gentle smile you know so well. "Still you."

"Hardly," you chuff, turning to sniff at your shoulder. "I stink like sweat, dirt, and...vinegar?"

"You had lice," Levi curtly offers, looking uncharacteristically shy with the lightest of pinks on his cheeks. You kiss his hand in thanks, barely holding back a snort at the uncomfortable shuffle of his feet.

"Under that, you're still you," Mike insists, sharp eyes boring into your own.

You know what he's saying, you're thankful for it. He ruffles your hair beneath his palm like he's reluctant to pull back. You almost don't want him to, but he does, and you choose to revel in the heavy protective weight he posts at your side instead.

Looking up at Erwin feels more intimidating than it ever has before, and you're not even sure why - except the part of you that's terrified of being discharged, of being sent away, of being blamed and scolded for mistakes that weren't your own.

Okay...maybe you do know why. You wait for him to speak first because words tumble on your tongue and you're not sure how to string together a sentence yet.

And then he moves his fist to his heart, saluting you. Everything stalls, your brain has stopped working. You can only listen and try to understand. He starts with your name, you almost don't recognize it. "Under my orders, you were abandoned in titan territory. That was my call - "

"It was the right call," you interrupt, nodding at the widening shock in his eyes. "It was the right call, Erwin. We didn't plan for rain, you had to retreat with as many survivors as you could and...you didn't know I was alive, right?"

The way he hesitates has your brows pulling together, a shiver of fear pulsing in your spine when your eyes snap from Mike to Levi - who looks almost terrifyingly angry in that moment - and back to Erwin. His voice is far too professional, far too controlled, jaw locked and hard. "We were told by Cadet Theodora Oswin that you had been crushed. With no reason to doubt her account in the midst of an emergency, I ordered the information be withheld from Captain Levi until we were safe behind the walls."

"Oswin," you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue like a foreign language. A weird satisfaction settles in your mind, you knew it started with an O. You're suddenly back to that day, rain in your eyes and Bully pinning you down. "She - I...I reached out. She looked at me and...and she turned away. She was scared, I know she was, but she - she - "

"Theodora Oswin has been dishonorably discharged from the Survey Corps, held in contempt for lying in her report detailing the death of her Squad Leader."

And suddenly you can breathe again, air stuttering down your throat as Levi whispers calming words in your ear. She's gone, she's gone, she's gone. It's a harsh punishment, too harsh, but you're grateful for Erwin's protection. "Thank you, Erwin," you sigh through a fresh wave of tears.

"Tch, she got off easy, if you ask me," Levi grunts under his breath, and part of you might agree, but you're biased.

"If it's not too much," Erwin starts, tone lowering into a gentle timber that settles your rising anxiety. "Do you have any information about the rest of your squad?"

"Dead," you say before you can think, startled by the word on your lips. The three men look just as shocked, eyes wide and concerned. "They - sorry..." you shake your head, trying to get your thoughts in order. "We got separated, I um...I found them by accident when I started towards a nearby forest for shelter. I scavenged supplies and then...then I buried them."

Erwin nods like he understands, like he was there, but he wasn't and you're so fucking tired. There's a lull in the conversation that you're embarrassed to have caused, but you also don't know how to move forward from this.

Hange makes it easy, they always do, and you can't help the startled laugh that bubbles between your lips when they stumble into the infirmary, bowl of broth balanced precariously in their palm and what you think is probably a pitcher of water splashing onto the cuff of their jacket. "Food time!"

"Took you long enough, Four Eyes," Levi grumbles, reaching for the bowl when they trip closer to the bed. "If you fucking spill that, I swear - "

"Calm down, Shortstack, I got this," Hange cackles, plopping the pitcher on the table to your right and stretching the bowl out of Levi's reach. "I can handle a bowl of soup just fine, rein yourself in, Mama Bear." They wink at you, manic grin you've missed so much pulling at their cheeks despite the murderous glint you're sure is in Levi's glare to your left. "Open up sweetie, I have some deliciously bland broth for you here."

You accept the spoonful of broth Hange feeds you, half tempted to complain about being treated like a baby, but mostly your arms are tired, and you think your left hand might pose a problem with either the bowl or the spoon, so you decide not to care. The broth is thin like water as you expected, and just as bland as Hange bragged about. It's nicely warm down your throat, but settles about as well as your earlier drink of water. You fight to keep down the next few spoonfuls because you refuse to throw up in front of your friends, in front of Levi.

"So, I've been sort of itching to ask," Hange starts a few minutes later, and you just know they're going to ask about what kind of titan behavior you saw. Thinking of Preston has a complicated mix of longing and trepidation swirling in your chest.

"Hange..." There's a warning in Levi's voice, something you're grateful for but you also don't want your friends to tiptoe around you like something broken - even if you are, just a little bit.

"It's okay, Levi, really. I actually...I wanted to ask you something first," you mumble, tapping against Levi's whitened knuckles and staring at your lap. "We know titans are slower in the cold, but...do you think the temperature makes them docile?"

They're looking at you like you're crazy, you can feel it - except Hange, of course, who's practically vibrating. You try not to wince as the broth sloshes over the edge of the bowl. "Docile?! Docile how?!"

But you hesitate because Levi already knows about the hallucinations and what if he thinks you're making it up? What if you did? What if Preston was never actually there, or at least not there like you remember him to be? You don't know how to trust your own thoughts anymore.

You're not aware you're shaking or that you're clenching your hands until Levi's murmuring close to your ear. "Just breathe, it's okay. Whatever you saw, whatever you have to ask, it's okay."

A deep breath settles your fluttering heart. Hange is watching you with barely contained excitement. "There was this titan in the forest, eleven meters I think," you begin in a soft, almost timid voice. "It, uh, never stood up, but it was big. I used it to...to stay warm. Cut all of his joints over and over so he couldn't move. The only reason I didn't freeze to death was the steam, especially during the blizzards, I - " but you stop, suddenly sickened by the memory of a bloody muscular nook in the titan's stomach. The small amounts of broth you'd managed to choke down churn dangerously. "He never hurt me, never tried to eat me, even when I didn't have the strength to cut him up again. Just laid there, just watched me, for months."

Hange squeals your name, bouncing up and down on their heals. "You're a genius! Using their steam to survive the cold, absolutely brilliant, haHA!" They start rambling under their breath about the different ways a titan's steam could be useful and the benefits of holding a titan captive in a similar manner. Their index finger curls under the jut of their chin. "You said it just watched you? I wonder why...maybe it grew attached, or it was waiting for the perfect time to attack?"

"Preston had plenty of opportunity, he never - "

"Preston?" It's Erwin that interrupts you, one massive eyebrow raised. Your cheeks warm, blush brightening the tips of your ears, and you fumble through a few words as you try not to curl into yourself.

"I like that name!" Hange laughs, slapping your shoulder that hurts more than you'll admit and sending you a reassuring wink. "The beastie saved your life, deserves a strong name, I think. Good choice!"

Mike and Erwin both nod like it's obvious, but you're still fighting the fluster in your cheeks. Levi is weirdly silent at your side, and you're too scared to look at his reaction, so you just nod thankfully at the scientist and accept a few more spoonfuls of now lukewarm broth.

"I just wanted to know if the cold could have caused any of his strange behavior."

"Hmmm," Hange taps their chin, glasses flashing. "It could have, I suppose, but it's more likely that Preston is just an extra abnormal abnormal. Could be both. Redundant, maybe, but without observing him myself, I can't really say for sure." They smile kindly at you, placing their hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "We should just be glad Preston was there to help you come back to us."

"Yeah," you nod with half-lidded eyes, deciding not to mention that he's still alive, probably lounging beneath that massive tree. Thin arms and legs twitching, fat gut steaming. Sparkling white grin wide and sharp and straight. Yellow eyes stuck on the spot you disappeared into the horizon.

You wonder if he ever tried to follow you.

A jaw-cracking yawn interrupts your thoughts, wetness springing to the corners of your eyes, and you lean heavily into Levi's side when all your energy seams to drain from your limbs. His arm winds around your back, warm and holding you close to his chest, and you've never felt safer than when his heart beats by your ear.

"Tired?" You can hear the amusement in his voice, fingers threading through the loose strands of your hair that still smell of vinegar. Your nose curls.

You hum, burrowing further into his hold. "Mhmm, but shower first." You think you hear the others laugh, but you're too exhausted and comfortable to care at this point.

There's a few more muffled mumbles between Levi and the others before you hear the click of the infirmary door. It's just you and Levi, a tension you hadn't realized you'd been holding in your shoulders and the bend of your spine loosening in one fell swoop.

You can't remember the last time you talked this long. Your throat is sore from something other than thirst. It's refreshing, but still bothersome in its own way. You blink slowly, eyelids heavy and neck slouching.

"I wan' go t'bed," you slur, nuzzling the juncture of Levi's neck.

You feel one lean muscular arm bracing your shoulders, the other snaking gently beneath your knees. Your leg twinges when he lifts you and your hips dip a little too sharply, but mostly you're just glad not to be walking. "Thought you wanted to shower?"

"Tha' too, then bed. Our bed," you add, lips lingering on the silver ring on your thumb before placing your mangled hand over the beat of his heart. "Real."

"Yeah, I'm real," he says into your hair, chest rumbling with his words, grip tightening around your body. Safe, this is safe.

For the first time since you woke up, you're not so scared to let happiness in.

-----

It's unsettling the way your shoulders poke into his skin and your legs are thinner than his arms. You're weightless in his hold, lighter than the burden of fully stocked ODM gear at his hips, and it's fucking scary.

Levi's pretty sure if you weren't in his arms and he could hide from your beautiful gaze, he'd be on his knees heaving onto the floor.

He wants to kill Theodora Oswin. It's never been something he actually wanted to do, but this time he does. He wants to do it slowly; he wants to personally escort her outside the walls and leave her there with a broken leg.

As it stands, he'd only managed a sharp jab of his elbow into her jugular before Erwin and Mike pulled him off and practically exiled her from the Survey Corps. Too easy, too soft.

He wants her to know what she did to you, to have nightmares about the hell she forced on you. Because, even though you came back and you're breathing in his arms, she killed a part of you.

You had to bury your squad. People that trusted you with their lives, people you trained with, grew up with, people you cherished. Your friends, your family. You buried your family with your bare hands.

The severed remains of Furlan and Isabel dance behind his eyes and he's suddenly terrified of the images your mind conjures to torture you, apparently to fucking cope, according to Martha. He thinks the concept is cruel and unfair, but everything over the last three months has been the same. Levi just wishes this was something he could carry for you.

Your body will never fully recover, and even if he could erase the scars and the breaks and the hollow indent of your stomach that has marred your existence for the last three months, he can't even begin to imagine the mental toll. No, not that he can't...he's terrified to because you're seeing your dead friends and your living friends and they're saying things he's sure aren't kind.

Levi thinks of your scream when you thought he was another figment of your mind and he's scared to wonder what the mirage of him has polluted your thoughts with. He's thinks of not even an hour ago when an image of Petra had you trembling and mumbling and crying. He thinks of every time you've looked to him to confirm the breathing people in the room.

And you had to personify a damn disgusting titan just to compensate for the isolation. You named it Preston. It just...it makes him so sad to think of you huddled and shaking next to the steaming meat of a disabled titan, trying to make conversation because it's just so so quiet and if you don't fill the space with something you'll shatter within yourself.

He knows that kind of quiet, and the few days he spent whispering to his mother's body before Kenny came and whisked him away were a special kind of eternal hell he wouldn't wish on anybody.

But Preston was there for you when Levi couldn’t be, and he’s bizarrely grateful to a titan for keeping you warm and alive and maybe a little less lonely until the day you stumbled back into his arms. He's not used to such gray areas of thinking, not when it comes to the monsters that pick human bits of bone out of the crevices of their smiling teeth, but every beat of your heart and puff of air against his neck has him feeling indebted to the predator he's sworn to annihilate.

When you spoke of Preston, almost gentle, almost longing, Levi couldn't speak unless he wanted the sob he'd been holding back to rip through the feathered remains of his throat.

Preston was somehow kind to you and he's not about to curse that kind of blessing.

Levi holds you just a bit tighter, hoping enough of his warmth will sink so far into your skin that the you from weeks ago shivering in the snow will feel him and know...know that he loves you, that he never stopped, and he's so fucking sorry, but he's coming for you.

The corridors are blissfully empty of any stray cadets or higher ranking officers, likely because it's the middle of scheduled training. Not that he's in any way embarrassed to be seen cradling you to his chest. Hardly. He'd keep you there for the rest of his life if his arms could take the strain. But the staring would be annoying and the whispered gossip about the squad leader risen from the dead would set his teeth on edge and he really doesn't want to disturb your rest if he can.

You've already become a bit of a legend, and all he wants to do is shield you from tall tales that'll pull you back to that place.

The halls are cooler than the infirmary had been, so Levi is sure to walk faster towards his quarters when you start to shiver in his arms.

'Our bed,' you had mumbled before and he can't help the flutter in his ribcage or the pink rising to his ears. It's amazing how one possessive word can bring so much elation to his thumping heart. He's glad he asked Eld and Petra to scrub the room of dust and launder the sheets the morning before when he remembered the state of the untouched bed. You deserve clean and fresh and soft more than anyone.

He knows you're not asleep, though you're very close to tipping over that edge, because every few seconds you murmur under your breath or kiss his jaw or dance your fingers across the exposed skin of his throat. It gives him goosebumps. Your touch is something he never thought he'd feel again, he'll revel in anything you're willing to share with him.

His lips press to your forehead briefly before his focus shifts to the door to his office. It's takes a complicated stretch of his hand behind your back and a knock from his boot to push the door open, but you're seemingly undisturbed by his jerky movement, so he counts the clumsiness as a success.

It's still technically morning, so warm light filters into the stillness of his office. He holds back a snort when you try to hide your eyes in the lapels of his uniform as he steps to the bedroom.

Not as bright because the curtains are thankfully drawn, the air is particle free, smelling of the lemon cleansing solution he prefers for his rooms, and the bed sheets have been replaced. He notices the garishly colored throw blanket usually draped on your reading chair has been moved to quilt over the bed. Gently he lowers you into the divot of your blue chair, pressing his palm onto the new point of your cheekbone to get your attention. Your eyelids flutter, irises shining with sleepiness, but an automatic smile pulls at your lips that has his heart skipping.

You wiggle in the cushion, curious brow raising. "Mhm, feels different."

"It's more comfortable than it looks," Levi says instead of admitting he slept in the chair instead of the bed, too grief-ridden to subject himself to the too-empty mattress. The imprint of his body has replaced yours in the cushion.

You don't ask, just nod, and he thinks you might understand.

"I'm going to go prepare the bath." Levi stands, squeezing your hand when you grapple for his fingers like he's about to disappear. "You'll be able to see me the whole time. What do you want to wear to bed?"

"Sof' pants, big sweater," you mumble, clearly hesitant to pull your hand from his. One more squeeze to your palm, and then he makes his way to the wardrobe.

Soft pants means another pair of his sweats. Big sweater is this one specific pullover you purposefully bought two sizes too large because you like the way it covers your hands and reaches your knees. He thinks now you'll probably swim in the fabric, but he knows how comfortable it is because he's warn it several times over the last three months.

Maybe you'll notice his scent sunken into the fabric the same way you noticed the new dents in your cushioned chair.

He remembers to snag a pair of panties and some thick wool socks. Winter is over, but the chill lingers in the stone walls of headquarters, and the last thing he wants is for you to suffer any more cold.

Levi sets the clothes and two towels on the edge of the counter, making sure the bathroom door stays open so you can see him. He keeps the sensitive skin of his elbow under the running water to test the temperature in the tub because burning you is absolutely not an option.

Going back to that blue chair he's grown to cherish as much as you, he sit you up and helps you remove his shirt and sweats from your body. Part of him expected you to be mummified beneath the fabric, but you really only needed bandages on a few especially bad sores. They're due for cleaning and fresh wrapping anyway, so he removes them as carefully as possible so he doesn't pull at your delicate skin. He tries not to let his eyes linger on every detail of pain and neglect he finds on your person and carries you to the bath.

You sigh when you sink into the water, muscles visibly loosening as the warmth seeps into your flesh. Levi hands you your toothbrush that he could never bring himself to toss away, toothpaste already sticking to the bristles. Your eyes widen like he's just handed you gold and you immediately start scrubbing away at your teeth.

Eventually, your spit comes away lathered with blood and minty foam. You spit into the cup he holds in front of your mouth. He rinses the brush, puts more toothpaste on it, and hands it back to you because he knows the fuzzy feeling of built up plaque. You brush your teeth two more times before the red fades from your spit and you scrub away the film of time on your tongue. Levi cleans the toothbrush and the cup, placing both in their rightful place on the vanity.

He uses a different cup to wet your hair, pressing his hand over your forehead to protect your eyes.

"Do you think Erwin's going to discharge me?" Your question stalls him in the midst of squirting a dollop of soap onto his hand.

He huffs, lathering his hands until the soap is bubbling. You lean into his fingers scrubbing at your scalp, the vinegar smell disappearing under the soft floral scent. "You're the only person ever to have survived in titan territory for more than a few days, and alone at that, he'd be a damn idiot to let you go."

"But I can't fight anymore..."

Levi's jaw clenches through his frown, hiding behind your head as he rinses away the soap with gentle touches. "You shouldn't have to, you've fought enough."

"I just...you don't think I'm useless now?"

"What?" He's breathless, he's sad, he's angry. He takes a deep chestful of air and focuses on rubbing the citrus body soap into the sharp ridges of your spine. "Don't be stupid, you're hardly useless."

"Enlighten me then," you grumble, wrapping your arms around your legs and hiding your pout in the caps of your knees.

"You can strategize with Bushy Brow - "

You scoff, "Like he even needs help with that."

"More than you think. And besides, I'm sure Shitty Glasses would love to recruit you into their experiments and research, if that's something you want. Or you could guide training, our cadets could learn a thing or two from you." You just shrug noncommittally, moving your body as he guides so he can wash under your arms and down to your ankles. "You can do all my paperwork from now on."

Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you actually laugh. "Yeah, you got it."

He carefully rinses the suds from your body, pulls the plug for the water to drain, and guides you into a standing position balanced mostly against his side, wrapping you in one of the fluffy towels before you fully register the chilly air. "You'll never be useless, get that nonsense out of your head," he orders, dropping the other towel on your head to dry your hair.

"I love you."

Levi melts inside at the words, hoping to hear them and say them to you for the rest of your lives. "I love you more," he says against your hand, kissing the scarred knuckles.

"Impossible," you tease, and despite the little grin he gives you, he doesn't feel any amusement. He can't imagine anyone feeling anything more than the love he holds for you in his heart.

In a wonderfully comfortable silence, he rebandages the worst of the wounds and helps you into your pajamas. He was right, the sweater swallows you up, and you look so tiny. It's as endearing as it is tragic.

The bed has never looked as inviting as the sight of you sitting on the edge, watching him while he removes the bulk of his uniform. The belts he hangs on the door of the wardrobe, boots stacked next to it, while the rest gets piled into the hamper in the corner of the room until he's left in just his briefs. He's always run a bit on the hotter side, and he wants to feel as much of you as possible against his skin, swathed in warming fabric or not.

He joins you under the sheets and the knitted blanket. You're already huddling close to his chest before he has a chance to pull you in, and all Levi can do is marvel at your head tucked under his chin, hands cupping the beat of his heart, legs twining with his own.

It hits him all over again that you're alive.

You did that, you kept your promise, you came back to him. He wants to kneel at your feet in thanks, but settles for reveling in the brush of your breath against his skin.

"Levi?" Your voice tickles his ear.

"Hm?"

"Can you make me some tea when I wake up?" You say with a gentle timidity like he wouldn't bring the world to its knees if you asked him to.

He smiles, hiding the tears prickling his eyes in the softness of your hair. "Sure," Levi mumbles, holding you just a bit closer. "With a spoonful of honey." You hum contently in his arms, already drifting into sleep.

This is what perfection feels like, what home feels like.

He's missed it.

-----

Taglist:

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“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.”

two ghosts standing (in the place of you and me)

summary: the war is over now, and you had promised on your dying breath to wait for him.

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

tags/warnings: character death (but its ok cause its set in the afterlife), you literally are just waiting for your bae to join you in the afterlife and he does, this is ridiculously sappy, angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi this is the result of me FORCING myself out of a writers block by making myself come up with an idea and write it in one sitting and here she is a little drabble/one shot. enjoy!

-------------

When he wakes up, the air smells faintly of autumn, thick and full as he takes an easy breath in. Cracking his eyelids open and turning his head to the right finds him at eye level with blades of green grass, the early morning dew still not yet having left them as they shake gently with passing wind. Shades of purple and pink, yellow and orange compromise the sky above him as he blinks to take it in. He should be afraid, he realizes. Just moments ago, he was falling asleep. But he’s not afraid. Wherever it is, it’s almost silent. Almost. Somewhere in the distance, he recognizes the sound of crashing waves upon a shore, a sound synonymous to easy and effortless joy. He hears that same sound hit the wooden docks outside his window every morning, on the mainland far away from the island that raised him. He hears that same sound in memories, but it's often accompanied by sounds of high pitched laughter and the feeling of warmth and adoration.

He gets up from the ground, and begins to walk to where he hears the water.

The feeling of stretching his legs, letting his feet guide him, and the muscles of his legs supporting him is foreign. He missed it. He missed this. So much of his life relied on his legs, but that life seems like eons ago as similarly as it seems like moments ago. He was always running, always chasing. 

In happier memories, he’s walking to the ocean in the same way he walks to it now, but in his memories, he’s not alone. It was dark then, the summer air having cooled into the nighttime, but that same sweet sound, the monotonous rhythm of the water hitting the ground, played the same way he’s hearing it now. There were so many stars. He remembers even now the constellations that you pointed out, relaying to him stories of fallen heroes and star crossed lovers who found their way to the skies after their tragic downfalls.

He used to be in love, he remembers now as he walks. He doesn’t really think that that love ever went away. He thinks of you every single time he’s by the water, even if it's just on the docks of the Marley port now instead of the sandy beaches back home. He remembers the way you looked that night as you both snuck away from duties, if only for a few hours. Two abandoned green capes traded for soft linens and towels until you had to return when the sun rose.

He had always believed his love for people is what drove them to their demise. Anybody he had ever let get too close was snatched away, and always due to his reasoning. Bad judgment calls, 

fear, poor timing. He was always just moments too late when it came to saving those he loved. And you, for all of your strength and prowess, fell to the same fate. You had never promised him you would live long in the life you had chosen as a Scout - because it would be wrong to promise the impossible - but you could promise him he helped you live well . You always talked about moments. That the small stuff was the important stuff. He can fondly recall many late nights reading where you couldn’t put down your book, early mornings of you curled into his chest as he drank his tea and got a headstart on paperwork. Racing through wooded training grounds on ODM gear, sneakily stealing the bread off his tray in the mess hall when you thought he wouldn’t notice (he always did), the coordination between the pair of you in battle, exploring the cities within the walls you called home. Waking up with your hair in his mouth and his arm slung over your waist. Practicing dancing in his office for military banquets, hearing you hum quietly in his adjoined bedroom as you got ready for bed while he finished work in his office. 

And oh, god, how he would have given anything to grow old with you. To shift the moments you had to become memories and make new moments, make enough to last a lifetime.

But war takes.

War doesn’t care who somebody is to the people around them. War doesn’t care that the losses that it leaves in its wake were people . 

And he often tries not to think about it, but the memory catches up to him sometimes. His step falters even now as he thinks about warm blood as it pools under his knees and he’s screaming at you to please damn it, don’t leave me too just keep your eyes open stop it stop -

"I'll see you soon." You had uttered it like a promise. 

The war itself may be the thing that stole you away, but he was, as always, merely a moment too late.

Thinking about you and him on the beach is a much more pleasant scene in his mind. He likes to remember you like that.

The air doesn’t smell as crisp as it did now, giving way to the scent of salt as the terrain under his feet changes, his feet giving way now with each step he takes in the sand. The crashing waves are tangible now, deep green and blue and always moving, the sound roaring, a cacophony of ebbing and flowing.

He knows who he will find here before he even sees them. He quickens his pace, if only slightly.

He walks closer, close enough that he could reach out and touch, and moves to sit down, no discomfort aching in his joints now as he crosses his legs neatly upon the sand, and takes in the person beside him as they watch the crashing waves. A sweet, familiar smell joins the scent of the salty air, and his lips quirk.

Maybe this is what home is supposed to smell like, he muses. 

He turns his head. You’re dressed in soft clothes, laying on the sand, turning your head to meet his gaze with a soft, ever knowing smile.

“Hey you! Much to catch me up on, huh?”

wings wouldn't help you down

summary: "he isn’t one to believe in a higher power. he isn’t a religious man. but in this moment, he asks the universe to please, just be kind to him. just this once.

and the universe laughs."

(or: the 5 times you wake up, and the one time you don't).

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

word count: 4k

tags/warnings: major character death, a loose little 5+1 idea, the poor captain is whipped for u, many fluffy moments, some lowkey hurt/comfort, but some MAJOR angst too sorry not sorry, for the sake of the argument the end of this is loosely based around the 57th expedition

a/n: hi loves. this is crossposted from ao3 and i wanted to give her a home on here. enjoy!

-------------------------

It’s the oddest feeling, you think.

The realizing. That you are going to die. 

The realizing that no matter how hard you pushed, no matter how hard you fought, no matter how much it took of you to survive everyday, it would never come to fruition.

That you, too, would die. Alone, cold, in this hole under the ground of Mitras. Safe indeed within the walls, but not safe enough. 

When you were young, you dreamed of being a bird. A small, quick little thing that breezed through the air without so much as a thought. You would glide on the wind and feel it tickle under your feathers. You would fly right past those stairs that lead above ground, and nobody would even give you a second glance. Because if you were simply a bird, nobody would try to stop your flight. 

You would feel the sun. You would bask in that. 

You would move. You would fly. You wouldn’t sit here, waiting to rot, waiting to become a corpse in the street. You would break the legacy of dying here, waiting for hope to come. 

Suddenly, your eyes are heavy. When did that happen? Hmm , you think idly. It’s finally come.

You’re waiting now.

Until you’re not.

The world is all bright colors and harsh lights as someone shakes you with a “wake up! Move. You have to move.” It’s jarring, to be sure. This is the first movement you’ve felt in…hours? Days? It’s hard to say now. Everything is so bright. You blearily take in the person who shook you awake. Dark hair, slate grey eyes, and he’s glaring at you, scrutinizing you ever so slightly. His hands are on your shoulders. He gently shakes your shoulders again. 

“Get up now. If you stay here like this, you’re gonna die. You have to move.” 

There’s another boy with him, blonde hair and slight figure. He nods to the dark haired boy in front of you, and he helps you, slowly, rise from the ground. It’s dizzying, tiring, and you feel the need to pass out. But he’s shaking you again, and your shoulder is supported by his small frame.

One step. Two steps.

You’re awake again. And you’re walking. He huffs quietly next to you, and you’re going with him, they’re taking you with them, him and the blonde man. 

You don’t necessarily understand it, not then, maybe in time. But it feels like a second chance to fly. 

------------------

You’re going to die in the street.

You’re going to die here. Alone. And scared. And hungry. 

Levi never came. He never came to save you. You laid there, in the wide open, and he never came. You stayed there, like so many others before you, and you never got a second chance. There is no flight. There is no escape.

And because you never got saved, there is no going home to the small house the four of you share. No Isabel, Furlan, or Levi. There are no rowdy nights around the dinner table, the four of you, Isabel laughing so hard that her drink comes out her nose. There are no more early morning discussions with Furlan that come so easily as you talk about the future. Your fears and what you want with your life. Your hopes and aspirations that there could be so much more than ODM flying through the city for thug jobs. 

And there’s no more Levi. Levi, who has always been so oddly protective over you since the first day that you met. Levi, who has always had an eye out for you. Levi, who always seemed cold, cunning, and methodical, until you broke him down to his very basics. Levi, who had to grow up too fast for his own good. Levi, who never believed he could have anything good because it would always be taken away from him. 

Levi, the only person you ever knew in this life that you loved.

Levi, the one who loved you back. Who gave you your first kiss, first everything, shared a bed with you and held you in the night. Levi, who always made sure you were safe, who let his guard down to let himself be soft with you. Levi, who cradled you when you cried. The singular person the universe gave you to cope in a world that was so beyond cruel.

There was none of that. And with the lack of that, there was no escaping the Underground, the four of you. 

Because he never came for you, you don’t ever see Isabel’s glee when she finally sees the sun beyond the walls as a scout. You never see Furlan underneath the stars convincing Levi to let them all go on this expedition with him.

But then, yet again, you never have to see Isabel crushed between two titans. You don’t ever see Furlan eaten. You don’t ever see these things, because you don’t know these people, he never saved you, he never came-

You sit upright in bed as arms grab you by the shoulders, shaking you awake. You struggle to put breath in your lungs as you shake. A bad dream, all just a nightmare. You are here. You are okay. You ground yourself as you recognize the small room you lay in, a provision from Levi’s new title of Captain.

Your breathing slows into ease once again as you feel the weight of aforementioned captain’s arms on your shoulders and he squeezes, just like that day years ago. When he did save you. There is no exhaustion in his voice when he asks you what’s wrong. 

He’s been awake. He’s been awake this whole time.

Tears are quick to well in your eyes as you explain, speech coming out erratically as you describe the frantic fear you felt, scared of this dream world where he never came when he did. Something in his eyes, those slate grey eyes that most would usually akin to daggers, softened. There’s a kiss to your temple, a hand cradling your cheek, and a whisper. 

“I’m here, you know. Right here. It was only a nightmare. And I’m not going anywhere.” It’s slow, but the Captain of the Scout Regiment of all people did not always have a way with soft words. He’s always been more than that, though. Quiet Levi. Quiet Levi who often couldn’t find the words. You huff at this, heart still beating fast, but the previous anxiety seems to all but flood out of you. You are the only one who sees him like this, soft eyes and heart on his sleeve.

“You better not be. Who else would I annoy everyday? You’re all I got.” You smirk, and he feigns annoyance with a huff at this, but the glint of laughter in his eyes gives him away. 

He hums an agreement and brushes a hair behind your ear, and adds “I’ll hold you. If you want to try and sleep again. I’m not going anywhere.” And you know if anything could keep you safe, if anyone could make you feel safe, it's him. When it's you and him, nothing will ever come near you. 

When you wake the next morning, he is passed out beside you, a rare sight indeed. His arms, though, stay steadfast around your waist. 

You’re safe. 

--------------------

Levi hasn’t always known you to be the most deft on your feet.

One of his favorite memories of your time together in the Underground before being brought to the Survey Corps was your attempts at using ODM gear. If it took Isabel a while to get it, it took you even longer. You ended up either hanging upside or flat on your ass more times than he could really count. Smiles tended to be a rare thing from him, but seeing you twisted up in your gear like an idiot always earned you a huff or two. After that, though, he adamantly refused you’re using the ODM gear unless he could be with you to  supervise and ensure your safety. 

But this time, he’s not laughing.

It’s a simple training course. But you’re just not getting the hang of it. He sees it in slow motion, and it almost makes his heart stop. 

The green of the forest whirls around you both as you swiftly zip through the trees. You’re in front of him, just barely. He’s giving chase, and cadets beneath you are doing standard training exercises, moving wooden titan decoys in and out of your way. He sees it before you do, and he’s yelling at you to watch out. You hear him, but only a minute too late. You fumble to swing at the nape, as your foot catches the shoulder of the decoy. 

You’re merely inches off, but you miss.

You miss the nape. 

Your foot catching on the titan decoy sends you spiraling to the ground and you have no time to break the fall before you hit the ground, your head hitting the ground with a smack. 

His heart stops at the sound, and the training exercise is forgotten as he drops to the forest floor, rolling to take you into his arms. There’s a gash on your head from where it made contact with the ground, and your breathing is shallow. His heart lurches, but his mind is quicker, and he almost turns around to call for help when another voice does it for him. 

“Someone help! We have a cadet down!” Levi whips around, and his eyes widen as a brown haired person with glasses calls out for help, other cadets moving around them. Hange, if he remembers correctly, goes to move and grab you. Levi instinctively tightens his grip, and Hange moves back only slightly.

“She’s not the first to drop like that in a training exercise,” They say easily, trying to provide some comfort. “I don’t know where you guys came from, but she’s safe here. We just need to go patch up that gash on her head. She’ll be alright.” They say that last part softly, moving slowly to grab you from Levi, who loosens his grip on you. You slip from his arms into theirs and they're off, down the small path carved into the forest floor back towards their base.

He can only watch as they take you, moving with a couple other cadets to run you to the infirmary. 

It’s been hours, he thinks, as he paces outside the infirmary doors. The sound of his footsteps, tapping on the floor as he walks wall to wall, allows him a cadence to his thoughts. He hasn’t felt this kind of fear since Isabel and Furlan. The sheer panic he felt watching you fall to the ground so perfectly mirrored that same panic he felt watching Isabel crushed, and Furlan dropped into a titan’s jaws. That same helpless panic. It’s been hours now. And you’re still not awake.

He is not one to easily become scared. He knows this. With every loss he’s acquired, it adds a new brick to his wall, a wall he’s built so high so as to not let himself be hurt. So that nobody could get close enough. He doesn’t scare easily because his wall has become so high, so guarded. 

But you managed to get through that. 

You managed to get through it, and now every time he sees you smile, hears you laugh, feels your arms around his shoulders, it steels him to be strong. He promised you a long time ago, when you were both young and naive, that he would give you as much of the world as he could. He would try to show you as much of it as he could, that he would be your wings. He promised that as long as he was living, he would protect you. Not only that, he would give you a future together, at the end of all of this madness, if you wanted it. He wanted to spend his life with you. He promised if you wanted that, he would give it to you. 

He wants so badly to fulfill that promise. He wants so badly to give you that life, because he’s known you for years and yet every time he sees you, his heart skips a beat. Every morning he gets to wake up next to you, he knows he is home. He can’t lose you to a simple training accident. 

He can’t lose you because you stumbled and missed. Something that was so you in its nature. One mistake can’t be what does you in. 

The door of the infirmary squeaks open, and it breaks Levi from his reverie. Hange leans out, smiling. 

“Loverboy! She’s awake!”

------------------------

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.” 

The sound of his voice rouses you awake. It really could never get old to you. You’ve always been the one to oversleep, exhaustion coming easily to you, causing him to be the one to wake you most of the time. He was quite the insomniac, after all.

This morning was a little different. A kiss to your hairline roused you into wakefulness, and he sheepishly requested you to clear any plans you may have had, apologizing that he didn’t warn you earlier. A surprise, he claimed it was under the guise of. Luckily, today was an off day from training, and you had no plans other than a nice day of staying in your room and finishing some reading. Thus, the two of you set off on horseback, Levi telling you to close your eyes on the way there.

This wasn’t too hard for you. The rhythmic pace of the horse and the sun warming your skin ever so slightly were a deadly mixture, and it didn’t take you too long to be completely consumed by sleep. Eventually, he awakens you (quite rudely with the name calling, you think), and you open your eyes. 

And then open them wider; for what a sight there is before you.

Soft green grass spanning so far the wall ahead of you is almost a blur. The sky is blue, so blue, and clouds sparsely dot the sky. But even better (and you think you see Levi smile at this, just flittingly), birds, as far as the eye can see. Wings out, leisurely gliding wherever the wind took them. Your smile is enormous. You have loved birds ever since being a child in the Underground. You so badly wanted to fly like them. When Isabel had first joined your little group, you remember, you had bonded over the sentiment. The want, the need, to fly.

“How did you find this?” You turned around, the wonder prominent in your voice.

His eyes widen ever so slightly, taking you in, then soften. Beautiful, like this, he thinks. But he shrugs nonchalantly. “Had to ride through here on an expedition a couple weeks ago. There were lots of birds that day too. I just…figured you would enjoy it.”

You grab his hand, and move to sit the two of you down on the grass. He hesitates briefly (“the grass is gonna stain my pants, you idiot”), but eventually assents and moves to let you lay your head on his chest. “You’ve gone soft,” you murmur, and he squeezes your hand. This is a way only the two of you can be. Laying in the grass on a bright and beautiful day, watching the birds fly overhead. His hand in yours, legs intertwined, his lips to your temple, forehead, jaw. Feather-light kisses, the tickle making you laugh. The sunlight on his skin, you think, makes him look so beautiful. 

You wish you could stay that way, forever, the two of you. Live in these small moments, however fleeting they are. Your eyelids are heavy as he shifts and carries you back to the horse, placing you in front of him to sleep on the way home. Once in place, he places a chaste kiss to your head.

He speaks honeyed words whispered in your ear, reserved only for you. You sleep peacefully the entirety of the ride home.

----------------------

Soft rain hits the window gently, a quiet metronome as you open your eyes. Your lids are heavy as you blink them. Once. Twice. Once again. The room is dark save for the almost unnatural gray glow streaming through the window, the dawn giving way to stormy morning skies. You grumble quietly.

Not great weather for an expedition day, huh?

The sheets are still warm, heat trapped in by the sturdy arms wrapped tightly around your waist. That, at least, gives you a semblance of peace. The morning feels…odd. You can’t quite place your finger on it. Perhaps, it’s the weather. Perhaps a gut feeling. You’re shaken by your reverie from a shift and a groan as the figure beside you starts to wake. 

The rain continues its onslaught, picking up only slightly as he leans his head into your shoulder.

You feel his breath in the crook of your neck as he whispers “be safe today, please.”

The very nature of it, this morning, at least, takes you aback. It feels like a plea from him, tumbling from his lips. It feels wrong, misplaced. Humanity’s Strongest begging something of you. 

Perhaps he could see it in you as he blinks his eyes into wakefulness. See through you, like he normally does. Perhaps he can sense the fear you have, radiating through the sheets you two currently share. Something feels different today. You’re taking your room in, this feeling in, this morning moment in, like it’s a snapshot. Trying to commit it all to memory. 

It was an abnormal assignment, you think, to be placed right flank as a scout. You were far more used to being placed closer to the center of the formation. It’s not as if you’ve never done this before. 

It feels different today. The very air you breathe feels heavy.

“You know me well enough by now, Levi. I will be alright. You worry too much.” You feel him scrunch his nose slightly at this, the grip from behind you tightening. “I know you better than you know yourself by now,” he retorts, brows tightening a bit. You laugh lightly at this. 

“That you do,” you quip back easily, flipping around to kiss between his brow. He tries to swat you away, feigning annoyance at not being fully awake enough yet, but he doesn’t fight back.

“You have to be vigilant of your surroundings,” he mutters, “Promise me? Look at me and promise me. You rely on the people around you, don’t take on anything alone if you don’t have to. Just, be safe . Please.”

This feels wrong.

The pleas. This feels wrong.

You muster up a smile, trying to look convincing. “I’m not stupid. I’ll be aware of my surroundings. It’ll be fine.” You try to be convincing. To him and you. He looks at you a second longer, scrutinizing. And then, with a light kiss to your temple, and then your jaw, he moves to ready himself for the day ahead.

Perhaps, you’re not convincing enough. You couldn’t convince yourself. And try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling. All you really wanted was to stay in bed, to stay warm, with him beside you and not a care in the world beyond the small room you shared.

Maybe you should have just stayed in bed, you thought.

Yeah. Maybe you should have just stayed in bed.

---------------------------

Maybe you should have just stayed in bed, he thinks.

It’s all coming back to him now. In this moment, desperate like he’s never been desperate before, it comes back to him.

The moment the report comes to him that almost the entirety of the right flank was wiped out, he is already moving. He doesn’t know exactly when he employed his ODM gear,  but he’s soaring through the sky now, and his eyes are scanning the ground, scanning the trees, every possible surface he could find. 

You couldn’t be too far off, right? You were in the inner right flank, at that, shouldn’t he have heard something? Seen a signal flare? Anything?

He lands, and the ground is more red than it is green. His eyes narrow, and he breaths a shaky breath.

He isn’t one to believe in a higher power. He isn’t a religious man. But in this moment, he asks the universe to please, just be kind to him. Just this once. 

And the universe laughs.

Because there you are. He almost slides to you, the ground being so slick with blood and earlier rainfall. His pants are stained. He briefly thinks to himself in this haze he’s in if those stains will ever come out. He’s pulled your head into his lap and you blink and manage to smile. It's a miracle you're still alive, but you thank whatever higher power may be that the last thing you get to see is his face. Those beautiful grey eyes, reflecting the skies above you. You think if the day were nicer, maybe you would see birds in the sky. You know now, all these years later, you finally got your shot to fly. Levi. He’s still saved you, every day. 

“I fought..like an idiot. I missed.” You sigh out. You see Levi swallow hard. A stupid mistake and this is the cost. Just like that time in training, when he was so scared he might lose you. It’s not just a gash on your head this time, though. The ground contains more of your blood now than your own body. You cough, red flecks coating Levi’s face, and his eyes are wide. He knows, and you know. There isn’t much time now. 

“I’ve loved you since that first day. Since that day you saved my life.” He makes a choked sound at this. He holds back his pleas of asking you to just stop talking, that you'll be alright, that he'll get you help. His unspoken 'I can still save you' dies on his tongue as you continue. “And all I’ve wanted since that day was to give you my everything. I’m sorry…I’m sure I didn’t tell you enough.” You breath in, out, in. The sound is becoming more flighty by the minute. 

Maybe now. Maybe now you can actually fly. Like the birds you so desperately wanted to imitate in your youth. 

“Listen to me. Stop it. Stay.” He’s begging now. “I promised you so much more than this. I promised you…” His voice breaks, and he’s sobbing now. “Why didn’t you listen to me!” This morning, when he had told you to not act like an idiot, to be safe. You had laughed him off, told him it would be alright. Now you’re bleeding out in his arms, the sound of your breathing turning into nothing more than raspy wheezing.

In. Out. In. Out. Nothing.

The rise and fall of your chest ceases.

And the world stops, just for a moment. 

And suddenly you’re out of his lap, and he’s desperately, frantically trying to put your heartbeat back in your chest, where it belongs. With every compression, he’s pleading with the universe to give you back, and he’s pleading with you to just wake up. He knows it’s foolish. He knows that you’re gone now, he watched the light fade from your eyes. The only thing that comes is a steady stream of blood out of your mouth with every compression. This, this is torture, he realizes. This world is cruel, and it offered him a solitary gift, let him fall in love, and then consequentially stole it from him. 

So he screams. He screams until his throat is hoarse, and he can’t scream anymore. His vision is blurry, and he realizes its tears. All he can do is helplessly cry as he cradles you, cold, in his arms. Cry for the one person he vowed he would keep safe, unmoving in his lap. He was tired; tired of the losing, friends and comrades. You were the light, all he had left to keep him moving forward.

When he returns home, the bed will be cold, cold like the unnatural temperature of your skin as he held you one final time. It comes to him that he wishes he could wake up now. He wishes this was all a bad dream. 

But it’s not.

There’s no waking up this time. 

You should have just stayed in bed.