yona online (can call me Chun-li or Smallville). thirty one. dreamer. artist. writer. love levi ackerman. attack on titan. infj. dog person (cat's ain't that bad i guess). outdoors. black/brown girl. indoors lately. adventure. poetry love. feels deeply yet—likes logical reasoning. (infj 4w5 paradox). herbs. sketches. digital art. never-ending journey of self-discovery. twin. aesthetics. bohemian style. rock style. plants. girl with two sides. oc x canon vibes. 17+ audience.
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Just so you know...
I used to write fanfics back in the day in my teenage years. Now I’m in my early 30’s caught back up in Attack on Titan again. Because I finally watched all the seasons I felt inspired to write another fan fiction based on the show (and my crush/love for Levi ❤️ ) and my love for the other characters. I also feel inspired to draw again because of AOT, so I feel this blog will actually help me to get out of my creative rut.
Check my Masterlist for chapters, art, drabbles, moodboards and more!
“This was the daytime marvel of cities for me: coincidences, the mingling of many kinds of people, poetry given away to strangers under the open sky.“—from Wanderlust: A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit
A net of safety, comfort, predictability. The underground was his birthplace, but it wasn’t a place he would ever return —not to decaying air. The barracks, his missions, and chatter of his comrades were now his dwelling.
But when his ears heard her laugh, observed her cheek smudged with dirt, listened to her quirky metaphors, he felt home bloomed with a warmth his mind never registered to settle.
So when she said she needed to find where she belonged, he really looked, wondering if she knew home wasn’t always a physical place.
I enjoyed writing this drabble—not only does it call to mind Levi’s thoughts on belonging, where he came from and how he got to where he is, but it’s also a sliver peek into D’jai’s mind for later chapters ofc. Though it’s minuscule in length, it’s interesting to view this topic from Levi’s pov considering D’jai’s peculiar situation as he compares it to his own 📕 💭
His heartbeat was brisk, his nose nuzzled in the muscle of her neck as her fingers rubbed his ribs, kissing his temple softly. She pressed her lips against his cheek, then his ear, turning his skin a shade of crimson.
He kissed her neck, then her jaw, mumbling something incoherent as he breathed her skin.
“Huh?” she purred like falling silk as she adjusted her shirt. He exhaled, bangs brushing her cheek as his head lifted.
“Had a feeling your snuggling would turn into…this.”
“Is that bad?”
He kissed her mouth, nipping lightly—voice low, syrupy and hot.
A ficlet collection where Levi & Reader settle in the city of Alta Mar, marry and have a daughter named Matilda. A story about resilience, healing and parenthood.
PART Ⅰ : Scars
WC: 1.6k
TAGS: depression, wounds, Levi is emotionally constipated
A/N: This is an idea i've had in mind for several months now, the same universe as in this drabble i wrote last november.
Dividers by dividers-are-us
The war ended in global desolation, but now it’s time to heal for the better.
Levi focuses on the touch of your fingers on his face; the delicate glide over his skin, the subtle warmth on his cheeks it elicits.
Somewhere in Fort Salta, lying on a bed smelling like sour antisepsis, waiting for a doctor to come and see him. The touch of your lovely fingers on his scarred face, around the dirty bandages, is all he ever needs.
He looks at your eyes and gazes at how mesmerizing they are and the way they scan every inch of his head. He looks at your lips and thinks of how he would kiss them if only he could — slow and sensually, capturing your bottom lip then your tongue, should you allow it. He then notices your hair and imagines how he would tangle his hands in them if moving his body wasn’t so damn sore at this moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says with a low voice. “Why are you here, wasting your time with me?”
He can’t believe you’re there with him. After all these years, enduring his angry outbursts, manic episodes and depressive states. He was trapped in a past haunted by ghosts while the younger generation raced ahead, becoming the storytellers of a new era.
Why would you be here, looking at him and touching him like an enamored woman? Did he ever deserve your attention, or was he delusional again in his agony?
You laugh then smile at his stupid question. Levi has yet to see something as charming as this. And the laugh, the laugh! He hasn’t heard it in weeks, maybe months. It sounds so marvelous it almost makes him forget the infuriating ringing in his ears.
“Captain Ackerman, if you ask such a question, then you may be more unbelievably naive than I initially thought.”
“Tch. What does that mean?” he asks. And why does he sound like a little boy asking for answers? He’s too tired to be having a discussion of the sort. Too weak.
“It means that I’m not leaving.”
And you keep touching his face with loving attention, not knowing you’re also caressing a heart that hasn’t beaten for anyone in a very long time.
✱ ✱ ✱
The doctor finally comes, and you have to move away against the wall to leave him space.
Levi was never at ease with people of their kind. He was never at ease with the way they always asked for his incredible body, the way they always touch in improper places — he only wants your touch, if that ever means something, someday. So you stayed with him, as he thought. To keep him company and be there when the diagnosis would be made. Armin and the other brats were too busy negotiating their stay at the fort with the Marleyan soldiers until further notice. It had to be you, then.
The doctor starts with the leg. The first aid already provided has been beneficial and saved it from amputation, but the diagnosis was pretty clear: another operation was necessary to ensure proper healing.
“Whatever,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. “As long as I can walk normally again,” he says, but as he looks at you to back up his claim, he doesn’t see the doctor’s frowning brows.
Then, the doctor moves on to the hand and cleans it properly again. Levi remains silent. There is nothing to say, as both of you know he will never be able to fight again.
Finally, the doctor finishes with his stiff head. Levi reaches out for your familiar face to help him go through with it. Not that he ever cared about his own: he never thought he was that good looking to begin with. He simply couldn’t bear the disgust his newly disfigured face would prompt. He had already seen some of it, reminding him of what it was like to be an underground rat on the mighty surface.
The doctor removes the bandages, and his face shows no reactions. What a professional, Levi thinks. He won’t show how ugly I’m now. So he looks at you again, beautiful as always. The sight helps with the pain and the sorrow.
But you look nauseous, face twisted in disgust with furrowed brows and crinkled nose like you just saw the most sickening thing ever. And it saddens him beyond imagination. If that look is what he’ll get from you from now on, then he might as well jump off the cliff… or just accept he’s a physically ugly bastard, like he always was a morally ugly one.
Yet you’re very much concerned about him. He just doesn’t understand that seeing his wounds makes you shudder in pain as if you could feel his ache in your own body, silently sharing the burden with him. You were always empathizing with people like that. Levi does the same, which is why he can’t fathom that you empathize with him.
The doctor eventually leaves and you’re now back at your place on his side.
You gaze at him in silence, touching him with gentle caresses that bring the warmth again on his pale cheeks. You look as radiant as always and your face is beaming with a smile that makes his stomach feel warm in a way he can’t get used to.
“Why are you still here? Don’t you have better things to do?” he asks bluntly. How could you be so disgusted by him and soon after, looking at him like that?
“Stop asking silly questions, Levi,” you simply answer.
Your eyes meet for a long moment lost in time.
“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in the silence of the room. “This is where I want to be.”
✱ ✱ ✱
Many weeks later, and there’s a roof over his head in a place he is allowed to call home.
You’re keeping him company on the mattress that serves him as a bed, lying on your side and looking at him with that same gaze he fell for weeks ago. The summer dress you’re wearing is too big for you and reveals your left shoulder to his undeserving stare; it’s an erotic sight for him, almost obscene. He can’t stop glancing at it, thinking of how soft your skin would feel under his calloused hands and how your body would react if he could touch it.
Levi’s body reacts to the thought, yet as always the same thing comes creeping into his mind and destroy the few bits of confidence he has — that he’s an ugly bastard who isn’t worthy of your precious attention. Sometimes, when you look at him a bit longer, he turns away to keep his disgusting face away from you.
That’s what he does again, unable to face you any longer from fear of seeing his own repulsive reflection in your eyes.
He doesn’t deserve you. Alone he lives and alone he’ll die.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He sounds defeated.
“Like what?”
“Like I matter, or something.”
“You matter to me, Levi.”
“I’m fucking ugly and useless, how can I matter to you?”
You let out an audible sigh, as this relationship was punctuated by them. Levi remains silent, as he proved many times already to be a hopelessly reserved person.
You sit up, move closer to him and lean toward him, cupping his face with your free hand. Taken aback, he says nothing and lets you do whatever you have in mind. You’re too close to him and in an indecent position for him to think straight and fair.
You kiss his forehead where the scar begins, making his heart palpitate in reaction. It’s so intimate, something he’s not used to. Your mouth lowers softly, kiss his right thin eyebrow and he almost forgets how to breathe. You lower again and kiss his eye in a slow, careful way — he closes it instinctively and a wave of unidentified turmoil invades his stomach. Then you leave a trail of kisses along his cheek, your lips tasting the scar disfiguring his face and the soft skin around. By the time you reach his mouth, Levi knows deep inside that he loves you to the end of his life and beyond. You kiss him, so caring and loving, and he responds to it with a clumsy fervor he won’t hide.
It’s so strange to feel like an old man finally allowed to enjoy love and happiness after a life of loneliness and desolation. Whether or not he’s worthy of it, he takes it all like the most precious gift he has ever received. Does that mean that you love him? The answer remains uncertain. Yet everything else has disappeared — from the crippling pain in his leg to the sadness rotting his mind. Only remains the strong feeling he has developed for you, growing in his heart for years.
Your lips part way too soon and now he doesn’t know what to do anymore.
A bright smile blooms across your lovely face; the very expression of his heart that his fixed face cannot convey. As he’s left with no words, mouth open in a forced silence, you start caressing his scarred cheek again in gentle strokes with your thumb.
“I love you, Levi. You have no idea how much I do.”
His lips quiver as the words trying to break out from his mouth weigh a lot; when was the last time he actually said those?
“Oh, I love you too, so fucking much.” But it’s just a mere murmur, shy words carrying meaningful feelings.
Maybe it’s time to indulge in another sweet kiss, after all. Maybe it’s time for him to start loving himself, so he can love you even more.
A/N: thank you for reading! English is not my native language and even though i edited this text a lot, i'm still quite insecure about it. Comments, likes and reblogs will be greatly appreciated <3
I think I am officially Fandom Old. I am so worn out from the arguments on who's the top or the bottom (who cares), what is allowed to be written (anything you want, bejeebus), what is Problematic (I know, just tag it), what other people Should Do (they Should live their lives free of judgment). There isn't a Right Way to do things. Tag your stuff appropriately, don't read stuff you don't want to read, and leave other people (me) alone.
There is nothing quite like the freedom of having gone through all of the Discourse and come out the other side into the promised land of Not Giving A Fuck.
“some people don’t deserve redemption” redemption isn’t something that’s deserved, it’s something someone does. it’s making the choice to change the way you live your life, to be better, to do good things instead of bad things and try to make up for the bad things. and everyone can and should do that, at any time, no matter what they’ve done. we can’t change the past, but we can choose what kind of person to be now and in the future. we have the responsibility to do so. it is so completely not about “deserving.”
Some of my favorite people in the world are the people I knew who went through redemption arcs in real fucking life and said “You know what, yeah, I don’t expect forgiveness and I accept the consequences of my past actions. I support them not forgiving me.”
The people around you also deserve to see a better you. Besides, who the fuck is to say who deserves what? Life ain’t fair. There isn’t any justice but that which we make, so put in the work and fucking be better.
Because whether it’s deserved or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that the impact on yourself and those around you will improve. That’s something worth doing, something worth fucking striving for.
