(read right to left) doodle based on this momentās post lol āļøšøāļø Zayne doing his absolute hardest to support his ladyās goals as a new latte artist š¤
Happy Easter LADS fam! Showcasing a few of most recent fanart! Iād love to draw for you! Accepting commissions, see below for more details or contact me via discord (byhimawari) or DM on IG (@_zaynina) š
I love you so much! Thank YOU for writing such a beautiful story for the RivaMika community. āIf It Was About Usā will forever be one of my favorite RM fanfics, the way it covers healing and love despite hardships is soo wholesome ā¤ļø
Really, fate could be so cruel. And he only calls it fate because given how comedically instantaneous this all happened ā āthis allā being that he, her damn superior, was caught red handed pathetically slipping an envelope of his proclaimed feelings under her door like some lovesick teenager ā itās as though it was simply meant to be. Add in the fact that since that cursed letter is already in her room, he canāt take back the evidence of his humiliation.
But ever the stubborn type refusing to accept heās embarrassed ā because Captain Levi never gets embarrassed; no, not him ā he plays it cool.
āAckerman.ā
āWhat are you doing here?ā She asks, her tone a bit more surprised than curious, much to his relief.
āHall monitoring,ā his sarcasm a mask to hide any hint of suspicion, āWhat are you even doing out at the halls right now? Itās past curfew, youāre supposed to be in bed āā
āWhat did you just slide under my door?ā
And like a fleeting bubble, the relief is gone. Of course it is. Itās Mikasa. Nothing ever comes easy with her, especially not the predicaments he puts himself in.
Itās when she raises a dubious brow that Levi knows heās lost, that no matter what direction this conversation goes, Mikasa is inevitably going to see the envelope and read it. He obviously canāt take or ask for it back ā because if heās going to lose the whole battle, may he at least keep some dignity ā so facing the music is his final card.
Though his mask stoic, he chooses to speak with honesty.
āA letter.ā
āA letter?ā
āYes,ā his heart races and it beats at his ear drums, but his voice is firm with resolve, āRead it thoroughly. Good night.ā
āBut ā ā
āI said good night, Ackerman.ā
He feels her gaze on his back as he walks away, and when he turns the corner that, hears her door shut, the click of her lock an echo. By the time he reaches his quarters, sheās sure to have finished reading the letter. Levi tries to block off any possible reaction she may have, not wanting the picture the best in case it comes to the worse.
But still her smile creeps in.
Levi closes his door and approaches his desk, needing to keep himself productive before heās consumed by the image of Mikasa finishing his letter with what he hopes is the same smile that keeps fighting to stay in his mind.
But on his desk is something that wasnāt there when he left. A small box. Inside the box are transparent mesh tea bags, a blend of tea leaves carefully sealed in each, its aroma herbaceous and floral. But it is whatās under the box that captures his eye: a folded paper. He unfolds it. Itās a letter.
ā
Dear Captain,
I promise this is not a prank.
In fact, this is very hard for me to say, which I guess is why Iām writing to you in a letter.
Iām starting to fall in love with you. Actually, I think I already am. I miss you when youāre gone and Iām happy when youāre around, even if youāre grumpy and annoying. You make me feel complete, a feeling I believed no longer existed for me.
I know youāre my captain and that I shouldnāt feel this way, but I do. I really donāt know when this happened. Or how. Or even why my heart chooses you despite it all. All I know is in this world of chaos, you are my calm.
And I hope when we next see each other, youāll let me be yours.
Sincerely,
Mikasa
P.S. Chamomile is good for sleep.
ā
He reads it, again and again. He even folds and unfolds the letter just to see if the words remained the same, if what he read is real.
Chamomile tea is good for sleep. Levi looks back at the box of teabags, each beautifully and intentionally handcrafted with care, with him and his poor sleeping habits in mind. Him in her mind.
Just how often does she look at him?
While his insomniac nature is no mystery to anyone in the Scouts, thereās this warmth in her gesture, this thoughtfulness that makes the act feel more than a result of mere observation. And as much as heād hate to admit, he canāt deny the pull in his heart at the fact that this is the same stubborn brat who picks fights with him like a hobby ā endearingly-so now to some degree, enough for him to write a damn confessional ā that cares enough to individually tie bags of dried and diced chamomile leaves to help his with his sleep, gifted together with a letter of loveā¦
A heartbeat thuds in his ear and his throat. His breath hitches softly as he looks back at the letter, entranced by Mikasaās words that quite literally tell him she loves him, the tea a symbol of it. And if she read his letter, which heās absolutely certain she did, she now knows that he does too.
And that realization alone is enough to tug at the corner of his lips, a rare smile that heās not trying to hide for once, a smile reserved only for her. Leviās never felt so elated. Theyāre in love with each other, now without any doubt, and it feels like a damn victory.
He has to see her.
But firstā¦
ā
Mikasa looks at the envelope in her hands, her name neatly scripted on the front with his distinctive handwriting. She doesnāt know whatās more incredible: that her captain just slipped a letter under her door or the fact that she literally returned from doing the very same. Albeit, she left hers by sneaking into his office to place it on his desk while knowing heās out on night watch. Fortunately, she didnāt get caught.
And the only reason she didnāt get caught was because Levi, unbeknownst to her, was at her door.
Her heart races nervously as she rips open the envelope, pulling out the neatly folded paper.
ā
Mikasa,
As I write this letter, Iām inconvenienced with emotions that words often struggle to convey. Itās not always easy to articulate whatās in my heart, but I feel it is essential to share these thoughts with you.
Youāre a gloomy brat. Through and through. But itās the way you carry yourself with grace and integrity, even in the face of challenges that made me fall for you in more ways than one.
And in this cruel life where tomorrow is not promised, I donāt want to live nor die with the regret that Iāve never told you that I love you.
Thank you for being who you are ā stubborn, gloomy, and endlessly captivating.
Yours, regardless of not if youāll have me.
Levi
ā
The entirety of his letter was nearly overlooked with that pretentious closure of his, almost scoffing at his audacity. Of course heād never miss the opportunity to make it clear that everything will always be his way.
Yet, itās that very audacity that warms her cheeks and curves her lips, the kind that unleashes the butterfly-like flutters in her chest and tells her that this is the ācalmā she sought for from him all this time.
Her words and his, both hand delivered, a requestā¦
In this world of chaos, you are my calm. And I hope when we next see each other, youāll let me be yours.
ā¦ and an answer.
Yours, regardless or not if youāll have me.
ā
The smile on her face grows, her eyes softening into admiration and something like relief. His answer had already been ready for her, long before she dropped off hers.
He loves her. He *loves* her. A profound emotion overwhelms her, like that of a lost hope reincarnating into something that tells her sheās actually worth loving. And as she reads over the letter once more, the warmth in her heart and the glisten in her eyes reassure her that she is.
Thereās a knock on her door, startling her out of her trance. Figuring it must be important for someone to see her at this hour, she quickly settles the letter down on her desk. She makes her way to her door and opens itā¦just to see the very man who, per his words, is already hers.
āI figured youād still be awake.ā
She still feels the heat in her cheeks from his letter, and now standing face to face with him knowing exactly how he feels about her, and him knowing exactly how she feels about him, she canāt help but feel bashful.
āDid you need something, Captain?ā
He answers with movement, holding out a cup of tea to her, one that she didnāt even realize he was holding this whole time, the steam filling the space between them with its soothing and familiar aroma. Very familiar.
Chamomile.
Chamomile.
Mikasaās eyes widen slightly in surprise as she gazes at the cup, realizing what it really is.
āIs thatāā
āFor you? Yes,ā he answers simply, though his expression is softer than sheās ever seen it.
He extends the cup to her and she holds it with both hands, gazing down at it with the same confusion but surprise. It hits her then, the actual answer she was seeking, seeing now with certainty that this is indeed from the tea bags she made for him. And by realizing this, itās clear he did see her giftā¦and her letter.
āChamomile is good for sleep.ā
A soft hitch of her breath escapes her. Verbatim are those words from her confession, a question written in a form of a sentence in which he alas answered. His voice is quiet but the words are loud, chiming in with this expression on his face, softer than sheās ever seen it, that tells her she got what she wanted.
But did she really? Is he really accepting her love for him? Heās beating around the bush here, his words so far all suggestive but not definite. But then, as though he just read her mind ā something heās frustratingly quite good at ā he leans in, distracting her from all her unsureness.
āYours,ā he whispers tenderly, leaving no room for doubt, followed by a fleeting touch of his lips on her cheek, chaste and light as a feather, yet heavy on the promise that he was, is, and will always be, hers.
Just like he wrote.
āNow go to bed, brat, before I write you up for breaking curfew,ā he says sternly as he pulls away, but thereās no bite to his tone, the familiarity of their banter turn love language making it all the more comfortable between them. .
Mikasa canāt help but respond in turn, a small smile on her face, āNot for sneaking into your office?ā
āDonāt tempt me,ā he replies with a short scoff, and like a warm blanket draped around her, he then gives a soft smile of his own, a rarity in itself, āGood night, Mikasa.ā
With that, he leaves her be, and she retreats back into her room, sitting down on bed with the cup still warm in her hands. Itās when she takes a small sip that at last unveils the big smile on her face that she can no longer mask. And with every giddy sip she takes, each flowing through her system like a rush, she realizes that perhaps chamomile isnāt so good for sleep after all.
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