゜`♥* the betrothal `♥*。
You are set to marry the esteemed Lord Levi Ackerman, an arrangement since before you were even born - yet you've never even met him. With all your fortunes riding on this marriage, and pressure from your family, you must please your future husband in any way you can! Sent to live with him a couple weeks before your vows - how can you even get to know him when he's ever so aloof and distant? And just what will Lord Levi do when he develops feelings for his bride to be?
pairings - lord! levi ackerman x f! reader
warnings - mdni - set in the 1800s, royal au - slow burn, tons of sexual tension, light angst, we fall first but he falls harder, some fluff and humor, levi being a short little brat tbh, scandalous kissing, more tension, Hange Zoe gets to tutor us hehe
Levi art by @/lanvasko on tumblr!!
hehe this will be like 8 parts! I'll make a mlist soon, this one is gonna be fun for me <3
part one
The carriage wheels crunched loudly along the gravel drive of Ackerman Manor, each roll of those wheels hitting rocks jostling you just a bit, as you get ever closer to the place that would now be your home.
Your home.
Your hands are trembling as you smooth down the silky blue fabric of your gown – it was the finest you owned, but you fear it would seem quite simple to the man you were to be married to soon.
You didn’t exactly come from money, in fact your family name and an old agreement between Levi’s parents and yours before you were born was the only reason you were here like this. That and pretty looks were what your entire family’s fortune banked on, truly, so much pressure at times it made you sick.
You’d never even met him – Levi Ackerman, you’ve only heard stories of your soon to be betrothed by tales of friends and members of your family.
By all accounts, he was apparently short tempered, angry, and aloof – though no one said he was ‘unkind’ at all. Rather a bit cold, and arguably treated everyone with respect, which was more than most women could hope for these days.
Yet you don’t know how to feel.
This was a business transaction, not a fairy tale wedding, your parents so eagerly shipped you off it was laughable; in all other aspects a girl had a dowry, whereas you had almost a non-existent one. This was truly only Levi respecting his father’s late wishes and being ever the gentleman.
Ladies everywhere were ever furious that there was no chance with him, with the richest man in the very city, the one they all seemed to love to go after, but no.
It was you to be his bride.
The carriage door opens now after you’ve come to a halt, and a well groomed servant helps you out and down the steps, guiding you as you take in the sight before you – the pretty manor that’s utterly pristine. You lift your skirts and step up the glimmering stone steps, as the butlers stand aside and open the doors for you.
The very entrance hall was immaculate, sparkling clean unlike anything you’ve ever seen, there was not a speck of dust anywhere, and the faint hint of some sort of lemon polish hits your nose as you take it all in. Even the chandelier overhead was fucking gorgeous and sparkling, you almost feel terrible stepping foot in such a pretty place with your shoe that had fallen into mud earlier.
"Mr. Ackerman will see you in the drawing room," the butler says now, eyeing you carefully.
Usually people waited to move in until marriage, but your parents had sent you off early – about a week early – with the idea of meeting him and staying in one of the guest rooms, but now it all hits.
You’re getting married to a stranger.
The door opens once you sit down in the pretty chair, and you immediately stand right back up – seeing him standing there.
Shorter than you'd expected, surely, but the man commands a fucking room, truly – this presence that almost intimidates you, his dark hair shining just a bit under the chandeliers as if he’d freshly washed it. His eyes were taking you in, assessing you so intensely all you can do is stand there, dressed in a perfectly pressed dark suit that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe.
"You're late," were his first words to you – his bride-to-be. His voice is so fucking bored, too, like he’s annoyed as shit at you. You clear your throat now, curtseying just a bit.
"The roads were muddy from the rains," you manage to excuse. “I’m sorry that I am a bit late.”
“Yes, well,” he passes by the small inn table as he walks toward you, pausing now, running a finger along the surface, sighing as he holds it up to the light.
"There's dust," he shouts, and two servants immediately run into the room. "Did I not explicitly state this room was to be cleaned twice daily?"
"Sir, it was-"
"Then this is unacceptable,” he kneels then, tugging out a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I'll just do it myself."
Your fiancé – the Lord Levi Ackerman, starts fucking frantically wiping down every surface in the room as you watch, just blinking, the servants are scrambling to help polish silver that does not need it, while the tea sits on the table, cooling. He faintly looks at you as you stare at him, his dark gray eyes taking you in.
“Sit and have tea,” he manages, realizing you’re staring, all pretty in a simple gown that at least is decently clean, if not crumpled by your hands. “I’ll be done momentarily.”
“Oh! Yes…”
You sit there, crossing your legs at the ankles, watching the man you were to spend your life with finding a spot on the floor to clean now.
Just who was Levi?
After he finishes, he looks over at you, standing and brushing himself off, though the damn suit was impeccable, ironed pristine and straight. He walks over like he owns the entire room – you suppose he does, though, sitting across from you and leaning back, crossing his ankle over his knee, an arm thrown back.
For a short man, he certainly had a presence.
"So, you're the little brat I’m to marry."
You blink at him in shock. "I... beg your pardon?"
A ghost of smirk crossed his lips – did they have to be quite so glossy? It was irritating, especially given the shitty words coming from them.
"Don't look so shocked about it, you are that brat, yeah?”
“A brat, my lord?!”
“Mhm,” you are so affronted he can’t help but snort. “Never been called that, I take it?”
“I was not an annoying child, so no! I mean… I was not noticed much in general, I suppose,” you trail off, sipping your tea carefully as he studies you. “A tale for another day.”
“Hmm,” he takes it all in, the mud on your skirts he needs to clean to even have a damn conversation, the delicate way you hold the teacups in your hands, with soft emerald silk gloves.
They’re damn near threadbare.
“I’ll have to purchase you something for the ceremony as well as the ball this week,” he says errantly, sipping tea himself as he takes you in. “Perhaps I’ll have my seamstress come take measurements.”
“This is the finest I have,” you admit, blushing now.
“I see,” he smiles a little softer then. “No worries about that, I’ll have something pretty for you – but don’t get mud on it, please.”
“I will try not to!” He nods just a bit. “May I ask a question?”
“Sure, but make it quick – I am busy.”
And rude.
Sort of?
He’s sort of… hot, too, but you’ll think of that later.
“Why keep the contract when my family fell into misfortune as it did?” He clears his throat now, eyes lowering to his own cup.
“Though it was annoying to have to deal with an arrangement, knowing my whole life it would happen? It was a promise, nonetheless, your money should have nothing to do with that."
“Most men wouldn’t agree.”
“Don’t get all sappy, thinking I’m sweet, brat,” you snort at that, as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees after he sets down the teacup, his gray gaze pinning you in place.
His eyes are impossible to understand, and intense.
"No need for any frivolties, hmm?”
“No need.” You set yours down too.
“This is how it will be,” he starts. “You will have this east wing.”
You blink.
“You mean until the marriage?”
“Altogether.”
“So we will…” You blush a bit at your thoughts. “Won’t we share a room when we are wed?”
“There’s no need to do all that yet,” you blink again. “I have some things that I need privacy for, and you will not enter my study or my rooms without my express permission. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he smiles a bit softly. “I like that you’re not arguing about it.”
“If you wish for privacy, of course I’ll give it,” you murmur.
How lonely will this be?
“You will ensure the staff maintains this house to my standards when I am not here, and you will be present at required social functions on my arm, those are the only things I really require. In return, you will never want for a thing. Are we clear?"
You can tell he was in the military as many said – he was apparently a commander at a very young age during his duty, all that cold, calculated attitude was right there. It was devoid of all emotion even if it was kind, entirely dismissive without being cruel, as if he had his own wall up.
"Crystal clear, Sir," you whisper, he pauses then, raising a brow.
“Did you call me Sir?”
“I mean… yes? Sir…”
Fuck.
Levi has been called Sir for years before taking over his father’s position as a Lord, but never, ever did it make his damn cock jump as you saying it. He hates whatever the fuck that sensation is.
He’s not extremely experienced with women, he played a bit when he was off traveling before the military, but there was so much to do, he never really did more than a few passing nights. No stranger to stroking himself, he wasn’t always ready for that, with so much to take care of, half the time Levi fell asleep at his damn desk, snoring over papers.
Never has his cock reacted to a woman and some words.
Sir.
“Say that again?” He asks, unsure what the fuck he’s doing, his hands sliding down his thighs.
“Why?”
“Why!? Just…” He sighs. “See, you’re a brat.”
“I am not! Sir,” you murmur again, trying to remain composed with just how much his eyes darken then, the tension so fucking clear you can hardly take it. “Sir.” You say it more firmly. “Do you like me calling you that?”
Does he like it?
He is leaking precum, fuck.
That is something he never expected.
“Hmmph,” he stands up now, his movements sharp, precise as he tugs at his jacket just a bit, walking over towards you and leaning low, tilting your chin up with two fingers.
For a wild moment you think he’ll kiss you.
Instead, he studies you, with such intensity your heart is fucking racing in your chest. "For the dress being muddy and cheap, you do look…”
“I look?”
He trails off, sighing. “You look presentable despite that, good genetics, I’m assuming.”
“Are you calling me pretty?” You tease, smiling in a way that has his cock pulsing. He tugs back, clearing his throat now, not answering you.
“Ahem, for tonight,” he avoids the damn question entirely, of course. “I’ll have one of my staff alter one of my mother’s dresses. She’s about your size, but they’re a little older. Still nice material and clean, however.”
“Oh! That would be an honor, I heard she was lovely.”
“She was…” He trails off, leaving a million more questions to your mind. “Dinner is at seven, brat. Don't be late again."
“Yes, sir.”
Shit.
Levi rushes off with impossibly long strides for just how short those damn legs are, turning and walking toward the door, leaving you sitting there, sipping on the still warm tea once more. You feel so much from where he just touched you, even if it was the briefest of moments.
The east wing.
An entire half of a manor – alone.
Where in the west wing, Levi may or may not be jerking his cock to the very sound of ‘Sir’ coming from your lips, cursing you already for being so bloody irritating.
*****
Dinner is a formal, meticulous affair, and you look lovely in one of his mother's gowns. A little dated but it fits you beautifully with the hasty little alterations the staff made.
“Hello, Sir,” you curtsey to him as you get led to the table, an enormous one made of an old mahogany.
“Good evening, you're one minute late.”
“Surely not!?”
“You are,” his lips twitch up at the corners at your frustration. “Shall I get you a pocket watch?”
“Well perhaps…” the servant pulls out your seat, and you settle in properly, eyeing all the silverware as they bring out hot bowls of soup. “There is so much here.”
“It's important you know the use for each one, and the order,” he cuts open the bread carefully, gazing under his lashes at you. “I was not sure about your dining procedure at home.”
“I know the basics,” you pick up a soup spoon, earning a pleased little nod. “Is there more you'd like to know about my knowledge?”
“Can you read and write? Manage accounts?”
“Read and write yes, accounts… no. Not at all.”
“Were you trained to work the staff, especially one this size?”
“I was! I can… try to do a good job, our staff was just one maid and she was a nanny and much else,” you smile with fondness. “I quite miss her.”
“Get close to her?” You nod a bit, he can see the affection in your gaze, making your face soften all pretty. “It does happen with staff.”
“When you’re not yelling at them for dust.”
“Tch, brat,” you giggle at that, and he likes the sound too damn much. “Well that’s good.”
“Indeed, I’m willing to learn whatever you might teach.”
His gaze on your lips fucks him up.
Imagine teaching you to suck cock?
He leans back slightly as a servant removes the soup bowls in front of you both, he dabs a handkerchief on his lips as they bring in the main course, he can’t help but laugh at your tummy growling.
“Hungry?”
“Oh shit, I mean!?” You curse, smacking your face. “Sorry, Sir.”
“You’ve a mouth on you,” your soup bowl is utterly empty.
“It’s not ladylike to eat like this!”
“Not in public, no,” he smiles though, tilting his head. “Here I do not mind a healthy appetite at all. Can’t have my wife fainting on me.”
Fuck.
Your eyes lock as he realizes how that came out, the tension so thick he can’t take it, even across this huge table from you.
God you look beautiful with the way the candlelight is hitting your skin.
“Your wife…” You whisper softly, practicing it almost.
“So,” he changes his tone, getting all stiff again. “What about music? Can you play piano, can you sing? You'll be expected to host many parties."
"I play the pianoforte passably, My singing is…” you sigh. “Terrible.”
“Terrible?” You nod and he laughs a bit. “I see, at least you’re honest.”
“It’s a virtue, yes?”
“Mhm…” You poke your food with your fork, trying to focus. “I could say maybe my singing could be passable if I’m two glasses in.”
“I see, must be tipsy, brat?”
“Yes, sir,” he adjusts himself underneath the heavy damask tablecloth, so fucking glad you can’t see.
"We'll have to get you a tutor, then, for the music. Can't have the Lady of Ackerman Manor scaring the guests away with her singing.”
“Rude!”
He’s smirking again – though he’s straight up being insulting, it was almost teasing, really – as if this was his form of affection, fucking with you.
It doesn’t bother you like how your parents would shame you, not at all, a welcome relief for all you’ve been through.
"And you, sir? What do you do all day, besides terrorizing the staff over dust motes on your surfaces?"
You say it before you can think.
His fork pauses halfway to his mouth, eyes flickering up.
“Excuse me, brat?”
“I mean!? How do you uh – spend your days?”
“Insolent,” he clicks his tongue, sipping his drink now. “I run the estates, oversee the investments, the docks, the mills. Go to the house of the Lords and of course have to keep up with foolish balls, dances, all part of the season, hosting dinners and negotiations. More than screaming at the staff.”
“I was teasing,” you say now, he sighs.
“I see you’re an insolent girl.”
“Me!?”
“Indeed, maybe you’ll need more lessons,” he sips his drink slower, smiling over the rim of the glass. “A belt to the ass.”
“Sir!”
“Well it works in my experience on bratty children, why wouldn’t it work on you? Though I’d never do it.”
“You wouldn’t hmm?”
“Never, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect,” he declares, though the thought of beating your ass with a belt really has him even harder.
You smell so damn good he can inhale your scent all the way over here.
Infuriating.
“I wouldn’t mind discipline.”
“What!?”
Your lips curve up as you sip your wine. “What, Sir?”
Jesus Christ.
What was he dealing with?
“Ahem,” he tugs at his cravat now. “We have much to prepare for with the ball approaching in the city next week, and of course our wedding. It will be a smaller affair, but I’d like to introduce you as my betrothed, first.”
“Of course,” him snapping a leather belt on your ass fucks you up so bad you can hardly focus – none of your friends had ever shared those sort of stories with you.
Perhaps you were indeed a brat.
“I’ll be the perfect lady,” you say, making him hum a bit, biting his food and then setting his fork down.
“See to it that you are. I'm going to retire early, do you know how to get back to your bedroom?”
“No, it’s huge here,” you admit, looking at him under your lashes as he stands, his hands on the table. “Could you show me?”
“Sure,” he inclines his head. “Come.”
Come.
He almost has to stop himself as he pictures it, spreading your thighs and ordering you to do just that for him, fingers pressing into your flesh, he can hardly take standing near you when you rise up from your chair. He pushes it back with some haste, avoiding just how lovely it felt to have that satin brush against his skin.
Come.
Would you listen if he did?
No, Levi could certainly not just make love to you due to marriage, it still wasn’t your choice, and the last thing he wanted to be was something you had to do. There would come a time where he’d be pressed for heirs, but even then he detests the idea of you having to lay underneath him because you ‘are doing your duty’.
He clears his throat as you stand there looking at him. “Quit gawking and come on now, brat.”
“Yes sir,” he rolls his eyes at your eager steps following behind him. “How are you so fast on those short-”
“Those what!?”
“Nothing, aha,” you pause as he narrows his eyes, stepping far too close and turning, making you crash right into him. “Forgive me, it’s the travel! I have no wits about me.”
“Indeed you don’t, tch…” He turns once more, letting you eagerly follow, back to the luxurious room he’s had set up for you, after climbing two sets of steps, holding the skirts that are just a bit too long up.
It’s quiet in the halls, lit up with little lanterns along the walls, your shadows both casting across them. He stands there a moment, letting you walk inside, curtseying just a bit.
“Your curtsey needs work.”
“I shall try to master it better.”
“See that you do,” he leans forward now, thumb brushing the corner of your lip, making your heart race, your breath catching.
You both pause as he swipes carefully, lingering a little too long, the only sounds in the quiet manor are the house settling, and your own breaths, fast as your heart hammers in your chest.
“You had a speck,” he manages to say, as if the thought of just that annoys him – any mess at all. “Food, you’re a messy eater.”
“I am,” you admit bashfully, hating the moment his hand drops. “I’m a bit messy I fear.”
Oh imagine it being his cum dripping instead.
God.
Levi tenses, this is something he didn’t expect – a brat who would annoy him so much she’d make him ache to do more, to do things he hadn’t even really done before with his limited experience. Yet he’d heard enough stories and done just enough visiting to the brothels in his youth to know the thoughts in his mind were filthy.
Even if you two eventually shared a bed, would you do that with him? Wasn’t that something unladylike?
“What’s on your mind, Sir?”
“Nothing,” he lies with ease, hands behind his back, tilting his head so his dark hair falls across his brow just so.
Something about him is just…
Handsome.
Levi is handsome, even if he’s completely unique, in this way you can’t begin to describe, in one that makes you a little bold, stepping forward slightly.
“Perhaps I should get a tour tomorrow, see your room?” You ask, hands also behind your own back, but your tits are pressed up just so, about ruining him.
“You may see more of the manor tomorrow,” he says tightly. “Do you require anything else?”
“Just some assistance with this corset, if you do not mind? I’m not used to this sort of garment at home…”
“I’ll fetch the-”
“They’re asleep!”
“And? They can clean while they’re up.”
“Really!” He laughs at your glare.
“Like them already?”
“I feel terrible that they have to deal with you.”
“Tch,” you step back, turning and walking over to your little table, eyeing the mirror and seeing the reaction he’s already gotten out of you. “Can’t untie a corset yourself then.”
“No, I cannot – I’d like to see you try!”
“Hmm, well,” he walks over, footsteps quiet on the polished marble floor of your pretty bedchamber, each one bringing him closer. “Move your hair aside.”
You eagerly obey, earning his chuckle as you see his reflection in the mirror.
He’s blushing.
“You can listen, then,” he says even softer, before unceremoniously yanking at one of the ribbons.
“So harsh!”
“Well do I have to be gentle?”
“Yes,” you fiddle with your hands a bit nervously. “I don’t want to harm the dress or anything.”
“Ah,” he brushes a stray strand of hair off your shoulder, his fingertips gliding down the back of your neck, watching the goosebumps rise as he ever so slowly drags it down your skin. “My apologies.”
He unlaces you carefully – precise, perfect movements, perhaps a little unpracticed, which made you wonder.
Did he have experience?
You certainly didn’t due to being a bit isolated and constantly watched, but even if Levi wanted to wait some time – eventually, he would be intimate with you.
What would it be like, to feel him like that?
You have heard a mix of things – horror stories from your relatives, and fun ones from your friends.
Which to believe?
His fingers quickly grasp what they need to do with almost an ease of movements, tugging faster until the last ribbon is loosened. Methodical, precise, careful, efficient.
It's what Levi seemed to be.
You exhale in relief, you ate a lot at dinner due to being so hungry from the trip, and now you can exhale properly. The corset falls to the floor, when he starts working the little buttons on the back of the dress, touching the marks it left on your skin.
You ache for more.
So much so, maybe you're arching a bit, as the remnants of the gown fall, and you're left in the simple silk shift. He sighs, hands slipping down your shoulders, tense and gripping, as if he is holding back when you turn back to look into those eyes.
They're black with need.
“Sir…” he tightens his hold, glaring at your pretty reflection.
Nipples begging for attention underneath thin white.
Collarbones begging for his teeth.
“Don't move,” he manages to breathe out, knowing his cock is throbbing under his breeches, and one more arch would have you against it.
“Should we practice? Kissing and the like… for the wedding?”
“Practice,” it's almost impossible to bite out those words, a hand slipping around your throat – for as short as he was, the fingers were oddly long and elegant, wrapping tightly and stealing your very breath away. “Kissing…”
“If you'd like to,” his lips hovering over yours, you taste the wine on his tongue just from the proximity, so on fire you truly are burning when he steps closer, pressing your hips against the vanity, his hard body against the curve of your spine.
His lips descend as he cups you under your chin, sweet pressure building, a prim and proper kiss with unyielding lips that fucking ruins you. You can't help but cry out softly, making him squeeze harder, moaning into your mouth, pushing it open with his tongue, slipping inside with a breathy exhale.
Just as your own laps across his, tastebuds brushing together, your cunt dripping in a way that's most unladylike, he yanks away.
So quick you're dizzy.
“Oh,” is all you manage, turning to look at him, the soft satin falling down your shoulders, baring them to him. “Was that all right?”
Was it all right?
Levi barely yanks himself away, before he grips your waist and sits you up on that vanity, before he watches himself move inside you. Before he breaks everything he promised himself.
He wanted to make sure this was not just because you're at his mercy, because your family needs it. He wants you to have a goddamn choice, even if it was just the intimacy.
“I must retire,” is all he managed to utter, stepping away and rushing to the door, leaving your lips tingling, your heart pounding in your chest.
“Good night?”
He pauses, looking back at you over his shoulder, his hands clenched right at his sides.
Fuck it's almost impossible not to take you then and there.
“Good night, brat.”
He shuts the door, leaving you to touch tingling lips, backed up against your own vanity, mind wandering all over.
Levi just kissed you.
Then…
Ran away.
*****
Levi is exhausted.
Fucking his fist till his cock was raw was not how he pictured his first day with you here in his manor, he expected to be annoyed, sure, but he had some serious self control. All of that out the damn window at seeing some bare shoulders and a collarbone?
He dislikes that more than anything, he wants nothing more than to make you at least comfortable in his home, and he damn near rutted against your thigh like some dumb fucking dog. Unacceptable for a man of Levi’s discipline, of his structure and sharp upbringing.
“You look like shit,” comes a cheery voice – he glares over at his friend Hange, who he’d hired to come tutor you since she was nothing but brilliant, even if she was hopelessly not a lady.
She could at least pull it together well.
“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles, sipping on his Earl Grey with bored eyes as she bounces in, wearing trousers of all things. “What are you wearing!?”
“I had to ride here, Levi!”
“Bullshit, I sent a carriage.”
“Well, the horses love me, what can I say,” she tugs on her bag, setting it down with a thud, dust all over, making him even angrier as she singlehandly ruins the damn tablecloth. “They love me so much they wanted me to ride them.”
“And my footman?”
“He’s fine,” he comes in and glares at Hange.
“She had me in the fucking carriage like a lady!?”
“Hah – you loved it!”
“I thought I was gonna die.”
“Tsk,” she throws on a little petticoat over her trousers, a bustle and skirt, tying it to cover up her dirty trousers that were making him even more irritated by the fucking minute. “He loved it, don’t let him lie.”
“You’re supposed to teach my fiance, not terrorize my footman,” she sighs, peeking in the mirror on the wall now, fixing herself.
“How do you like her, Levi? Hmm?”
“She’s…” He trails off now.
What does he say about you – he can’t say he jerked his cock like a pathetic man in one damn night, can he? No, even with Hange who is one of his best friends – there had to be some goddamn decorum between them, even if it was really only on his end.
“She’s quite…”
“Morning,” you come out as if on cue, smiling curiously at Hange, she comes up to you eagerly, shoving her spectacles down the bridge of her nose, as if inspecting you. “Oh! Hello, are you a friend of Lord Ackerman’s?”
“All formal,” she clicks her tongue, walking around you now, humming. “Nice hips, huh -”
“Hange!”
“Sorry, they’re cute,” she makes you blush, Levi covers his face and grimaces at the sight. “Breedable, really.”
“Breedable – Hange, that’s it, I’ll get anyone else!”
“No, no! It’s a good thing, you brat.”
“Uh huh,” Levi crosses his legs at the ankles, leaning back and seeing your eyes widen. “You’re scaring my fiance.”
Oh.
You much like hearing that.
After dreaming of Levi kissing you everywhere, you almost can’t face the short, aloof man alone, so this… Hange lady being here? Most welcome in fact, you’re a nervous little wreck. You’ve never woken up soaking wet and utterly confused like you were in your bed.
Soaked the damn sheets.
You hastily washed them, knowing him he’d military inspect the whole damn room or something for dust and look at you angrily if he saw your juices on the bed instead. The thoughts have you burning as Hange steps back in front of you, bowing rather than a curtsey.
“My apologies, I’m your tutor, miss,” she says all formal, hand over her heart as she lowers her head. “I was sent to help you with accounts, how to run things, and a little bit of formalities.”
“I see! Oh thank you very much,” you incline your head as well, holding your dress up to address her.
“She’ll also take you to the seamstress today, I have much to do in town, but I’ll accompany you both,” Levi says, standing and walking over, as stiff as ever, hands behind his back all formal. “Hange has a good eye for style.”
“I see, I would love the company,” you say softly, your eyes catching his, watching them soften for just a moment as he studies you. “How did you sleep last night, Sir?”
He almost chokes on air.
“Uh… well, I…”
“He looks like he slept like shit.”
“Hange!??!”
“Sorry, aha,” she backs off a bit now. “My apologies, let me go grab some tea.”
“Please fucking do,” he scowls as she runs off, stuffing her face with scones to his dismay. “I’m so sorry. I swear she’s one of the smartest people I know.”
“No please, I like her already,” he looks back at you, giggling at the sight of the rather thin woman eating like that. “She’s got that healthy appetite you mentioned.”
“Something like that,” he eyes you now carefully, and you feel it like a touch, the warmth there for a split second before his eyes go a little darker gray. “How did you sleep?”
“Quite well,” you can’t tell the truth – that you had to touch your aching cunt and find it dripping.
What would he think!?
“You, Sir?”
“Slept fine,” you can tell he looks exhausted, but you just nod now, as he takes your hand and presses a small kiss on the back of it, making your heart race.
It was perfunctory.
It was what a lord did.
Yet it melted you.
“Good morning,” he finally says, you smile softly, the sunlight filtering in and making him falter. “Your lessons start today with her. I expect nothing but excellence from you.”
“I shall aim not to disappoint,” you say quietly, as he hums and lets your hand fall – walking off.
He does that, walks off every time he has you trembling, nervous, wanting more of him.
Later that day as Hange starts to pour over numbers in her excited tone, and the two of you are in one of the elegant libraries Levi has, he can’t help but study you both, smiling as he leans in the doorway. You’re giggling as Hange is excitedly waving her eyes around, and for a moment, it feels too…
Homey.
That terrifies him.
What if he ends up falling hard, and you are just… here because you have to be? What if he looks a little too long into your pretty eyes, and he hurts himself as badly as he has done once before? Long, long ago – just a boy then, but the memories of that have helped harden him up.
You catch his gaze and grin all cute, waving over at him, when Hange demands your attention again, and Levi sighs, turning around, getting ready for his day.
He must keep a straight head.
This was an arrangement, after all, even if it would be a good one apparently, he couldn’t forget you were here for the same reason he was.
Duty.
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Knew each barely two hours and they're both completely smitten. Ya love to see it 🥰
Oooh I'm so excited to see you take on Levi. He's such a cool character
