Hewoooo! Welcome to my blog! I write fics foooorrrr whoever I'm currently obsessed with. Mainly, though, it'll be Levi, Zanka, and Chishiya stuff. I write xreader stuff! Here's a few things about me:
Name: Sophia
Age: 19
Pronouns: she/her
Nationality: Filipino!
Ao3: PingguinBirb
Taglists: Just lmk if you want to be tagged!
Do I take requests?: YESSS but ofc I dunno when I can get them done exactly, and I'll put on my bio when requests are open or closed.
NSFW or SFW?: For the most part, posts on this blog is sfw (just don't check my likes). I don't usually write nsfw stuff just because I'm not that used to it yet. If I ever do, it'll be tagged properly and will have the proper warnings!
Requests Guidelines:
Allowed: xreaders, any genre, pls stick to people I write for so I don't egregiously mischaracterize your fave characters, suggestive themes, AUs
Not Allowed: nsfw stuff (I'll write them eventually but right now I'm still too scared to write them), non-xreader stuff, male!reader (I am deathly afraid of writing male!readers wrong)
Please be patient when submitting requests! ＞ ︿ ＜
Masterlist
Levi Ackerman x F!Reader
Series:
The Bloodshed That Keeps Us Alive - Ongoing || Word Count: 16,301
Synopsis: The first time you get a knock on your door from Commander Erwin Smith himself, you know your time's up. It's not everyday someone like you gets approached by someone like him. The second time he knocks on your door unexpectedly, you're confident that your death is looming closer and closer.
Being a citizen, a noble, of Mitras was never really what you wanted, anyway. This time, maybe you can make a real difference and atone for all the sins you've committed. After all, that's all you've ever wanted. To die an honourable death despite your history.
However, when you see someone you never expected to see again, you're torn between being a good soldier or keeping the promise you made many years go.
Even if he doesn't really know who you are.
Zanka Nijiku x F!Reader
Oneshots:
Close Calls || Word Count: 17,910
There are things you refuse to use your vital instrument for; despite how powerful it might be, reading people's minds are just out of the question.
Sometimes, though, you can't help yourself, and maybe for that reason, a misunderstanding ensues; maybe it's because Zanka struggles with balancing his training with a relationship.
Either way, it shouldn't interfere with anything, right? Especially not when your lives are on the line?
Synopsis: In which you ran through Shibuya after you read a letter that had been left for you by your colleague — Nanami Kento. Nanami's regret was etched in the letter, the feelings he had never materialized into words bled into the pages.
Tags/Tropes: Angst, slow burn, reader deals with inferiority complex at times, hurt/comfort. Both reader and Nanami take their time to know one another.
Wordcount: 7k
⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ Drag Path - Twenty One Pilots
The coffee on the window had stilled, vapor of heat no longer rising. Your grip on the pen tightened, facing the window of your apartment which had been swallowed by the night. While other sorcerers had been dispatched to Shibuya, you were here in the comfort of your apartment. Shoko had reasoned that while most sorcerers were needed in Shibuya, the other existing cases needed tending as well.
Her answer had said it all. Someone was keeping you out of the battle on purpose. If you were to take a rough guess, that someone probably took on the form of a blonde man in a suit. You grabbed the cup of coffee by the handle and took sips of it — all too sweet, Nanami would have coughed at the intruding sweetness.
It took you back to when you had just started working alongside the man. As a goodwill, you had brought him coffee while you were getting yours from the cafe by the street. He didn’t look like he’d enjoy sugar in his drinks so you went with americano, the classic.
“Mr. Nanami, I brought you coffee. I’ll be leaving it here.” You placed the coffee by the empty edge of his desk, careful not to piss off the intimidating-looking man early in the morning. It had been a few months since the awakening of your power and the higher-ups had placed you right under Nanami’s jurisdiction. You had heard stories of him — of how he fled the jujutsu world right after his graduation and returned years later, and of how everyone had avoided falling under his strict mentorship.
But stories were typically fictional, made for the enjoyment of the listeners. Nanami looked up from where he was sitting, his hazel eyes briefly halted at the cup of coffee before returning to yours. “Ms. L/n, I appreciate it but you didn’t have to. It’s not under your job scope.” Nanami curtly said, pushing the frame of his glasses upwards his middle finger.
“I do it because I want to, Mr. Nanami.” Before Nanami, you had been placed under other sorcerers' care. None of it had gone well. Unlike candidates who grew up under the Jujutsu system and trained their whole life to battle curses, you knew nothing. You had been thrown into the jujutsu world and your power manifested as an act of desperation to survive. They didn’t have to say it out loud, you heard the whispers that had travelled from the cracks of doors. The hushed voices had always delivered the greatest clarity.
“It’s either that she’s not trying hard enough or she’s just not enough.”
“It was a mistake to have her here.”
A week after, you’d be moved to another sorcerer and the cycle repeated itself. Eventually, you learnt to smile the jarring reality away. Life at work was terribly demotivating, but life away from work felt equally hollow. Your other siblings were shining, one was a doctor and the other was a pilot for a prestigious airline — and you were the middle child stuck among high-achieving individuals. Having recently graduated from an art college, you found yourself lost in navigating the adult worlds.
“You’re not a child anymore, how long do we still have to care for you?” Your father's sharp remark reverberated in your mind. You hadn’t remembered much from that day — you only remembered holding back tears, counting down seconds before you could get back home to the crappy apartment you had rented. On that day, it felt like the world had a personal vendetta against you. A curse appeared — the mutilated figures of a waggling lump of mess chased after you when you had accidentally stared at it for a second too long. Truth to be told, you thought you had lost your mind and that your father’s words only drove you to madness further.
The universe was out to get you that day. You were a terrible runner, the curse wrapped an extension of itself on your ankle and you fell flat on the sidewalk. Sure, life was already shit but to be killed by a lump of mess before proving everyone wrong was the most disgraceful death that you could ever imagine. You refused to back down, hands fisted upon the ground, trying to crawl away from the curse hold on you. The rest had gone by a blur, some kind of light and warmness enveloped your consciousness and by the time you had opened your eyes, you were hauled by an on-duty sorcerer to the headquarters.
At least in work there was a clear purpose in sight — to get strong and exorcise curses to ensure citizens safety. But in your personal life, there was no way you could tell your family that you were a sorcerer, they’d start to think that you were schizophrenic. And so you decided that the healthiest way you could ever interact with your family was with monthly bank transfers. You lied about being recruited to a prestigious multinational corporation, and they didn’t question a single thing.
Meanwhile a tiny ugly gnawing presence loomed in your heart — you wondered whether your time in the Jujutsu world would be limited as well. After all, your previous week-long mentors all believed that you were hopeless. Except for Nanami, you had been with him for two months now, the longest record ever held in your book. Despite the rumors that shrouded his existence, the man was indeed honest to a fault and strict but he had never given up on you. Sure, he’d tell you that you were terrible at translating theories into practical application but the word impossible had never left his mouth.
“Ms. L/n, you need to work on channeling your curse energy more. You’re not used to it, hence, you’re having difficulties with everything else.” It was as good as a compliment to you — heck no, Nanami had essentially validated the very essence of your struggle. He made it sound like it’s okay to be terrible and that learning is a process. There were a lot of times where you had compared yourself with other sorcerers’ students and you felt as if you were embarrassing Nanami.
During one of the days where the sun’s heat had been radiant enough to scorch anyone daring to look straight at it. Nanami and you had been going over multiple missions involving low-grade curses. “Good work today!” You complimented the man, it was part awe and part respect as he had handled the brunt of the work. Although he did a majority of the task, he managed to leave a handful of curses for you to handle — that alone differentiated him from the rest of the sorcerers who had assumed the role of your mentors.
“Good work to you too, Ms. L/n. I trust you can handle the report, yes?” Nanami’s fingers fiddled with the crooked tie on his suit, attempting to fixate it back to a perfect symmetry. One of the curses had attempted to sink their claws onto him. Alas, the curse could only yank at his tie before they were struck down.
“Leave it to me sir.” You raised your right hand sharply, palm flat and the tip of your fingers were positioned on the edge of your brows. It was a terrible attempt to mimic a soldier, in fact, your voice didn’t hold the weight that soldiers commonly had. Nanami simply shook his head lightly at your antic — you could have sworn he found it amusing. The two of you were about to part ways, with you going back to write up reports and him clocking out. It was then that Nanami’s words had struck you for life.
“The majority of sorcerers come from traditional families and clans, hence they have early exposure to curse energy and are privileged to early training. We all have different starting points but what does it matter if we all made it to the end line?”
He hadn’t hesitated or tripped on his own words. Nanami simply said what he believed. He wasn’t one for flatteries or lies. When… just when had he discerned the smothering purple of inadequacy that had been creeping up on your existence? You wanted to deny him, to tell him that he was imagining things, that you weren’t that pathetic. Lips parted, yet no sound came out. You closed your mouth immediately, gulping down the grim truths that were at the tip of your tongue. Silence stretched out longer than you’d like, the noise from the car and trucks no longer registered.
Whereas Nanami on the other hand thought it was necessary for you to know that realistically there was bound to be massive gaps between you and your peers. However, it didn’t mean that your potential was decided then and there. He had seen how you’d be running around the track field by the time dawn settled into the sky, he had seen how you’d read piles of books to master curse energy, he had seen how you choose to work overtime on paperworks — simply because you believed it was the one thing you do best. It was necessary for him to remind you that you shouldn’t be imposing goals upon others and chase after someone’s shadow, others weren’t your benchmark.
“But what if I can’t make it to the end?” Your eyes bored into him, the words you were always scared to say slipped out. Failing had always frightened you — it was devastating to know that no matter the ounce of effort was put, results were never guaranteed. Sure, you’d think of it sometimes, but you were too afraid to vocalize the fear into existence. If I said it out loud, it’d come true.
“The future is indefinite, things may or may not work out. But the hours and effort you put in would never betray you. If you can’t make it to the end, I’ll be there next to you.”
Rivulets of tears condensed in the corner of your eyes, the salty droplets glided down the skin of your cheeks — all while Nanami held your gaze. That was all you had ever wanted to hear. To think that Nanami, not your parents, not your siblings, but Nanami — had been the one to see you for who you truly were. The tall blonde tugged into his pocket, attempting to find tissue or any piece of fabric to ease your cascading tears. To his dismay, he had none, and it would be un-gentlemanly for him to leave you out in the open with your sorrows.
Nanami didn’t think much, he couldn’t, especially not with you bawling your eyes out. The silent sob bothered him more than he’d admit. He loosened his tie, removing in a haste. His feet brought the distance between the two of you to a breath away. Nanami folded the fabric of his tie into two, “If you’d excuse me.” He said, although he was unsure whether you were listening. Nanami held a hand on the back of your head while he dabbed on the tie gently on the corner of your eyes.
Amidst the daze, you recalled apologizing for being a bother while the tears refused to yield, continuously streaming down your face. Nanami hadn’t said anything, he remained by your side the entire time, dutifully wiping the warm driblets away. You didn’t realize, but that day, he went on overtime.
“The coffee’s sweet, is that your preference Ms. L/n?” You whipped your head, clearly confused as you had paid for an americano.
Carefully, you lifted the lid from the coffee on your hand. The acrid and charred scent of the coffee bean hit you instantly, “This one must have been yours.” You placed the cup of coffee on the exact corner you had placed earlier before attempting to demand for your coffee back. Nanami had your coffee in his hand, his features undoubtedly frozen from the rush of sugar he hadn’t expected.
“Do you have a penchant for sweetness?” Nanami questioned, withdrawing your cup further into himself as he awaited for your answer.
“I do, I love sweets.” You answered. After your outburst of tears, Nanami had been a little different. It wasn’t as if he changed overnight or developed a new set of personalities. It was a difference so subtle you wouldn’t have noticed it the first time, but you’d like to think that he had let you in as a friend or a comrade. You’d take either.
“Can I have it back please.”
“All yours.” Nanami handed the drink over, the two of your fingers brushed over for a millisecond yet the warmth stayed even after the coffee had gotten cold.
Nanami Kento was still very much himself. He clocked in at 10am and clocked out at 6pm every work day without fail. It was another lesson he had passed on to you, to always keep a good work-life balance. He was a man of conviction. There were a few times where another team had come over to Nanami’s office to request for additional assistance in their mission. They’d groan when they saw Nanami all neat and packed up. Regardless, they still attempted to shoot their shot at requesting the first grade sorcerer’s help.
“It is beyond my working hours.” would be his default reply to every request which exceeded office hours.
Knowing his distaste towards overtime all too well, you hadn’t told Kento of your first solo mission — which was exorcising a low-level curse that had taken residence on an arcade’s claw machine, of all places. Apparently the curse had drawn people in by monopolizing their gambling desire, the report mentioned 2 missing high schoolers.
Easy enough, it was to go in, save the day and do more paperwork. That should be the extent of the night. Needless to say, you got pretty fucked over. It had nothing to do with you being weak, it was just a stark incompatibility — your curse energy was useless against a monster that didn’t inflict physical wounds. As a result, your body was moving under the curse’s whim and you were stuck on an endless cycle of spending money in one of the claw machines at the arcade.
You had to get the curse to hit you. For the next hour, you cast out the most ridiculous insults at the curse, hoping they’d get ticked off and smack you across the wall. Unfortunately, the curse you were dealing with had more patience than you expected.
“Don’t you have real friends to play arcade with or something? Kidnapping people doesn’t equate to friendship, you know.” That seemed to do it. In a moment, you were swung across the room. The curse blasted a surge of curse energy, piercing through your abdomen. You coughed out blood, it hurt so much but victory was pretty much in sight now.
The cursed energy on your body enveloped the targeted areas, flowing into the wound and it felt as if a cocoon wrapped itself against the wounds you had received. With a flick of your wrist, the curse was sent flying the same way it had done to you. Another flick, and the curse found large gapping holes drilled onto its body. The curse slowly disintegrated into ashes, only having figured out what your curse technique was all about the moment death knocked on its door. The wound in your body had healed as if it was never there, your curse technique was unique — it was the act of transferring wounds and injuries. You could then amplify the injuries or wounds you received and afflicted the enemies with said attack. For now it had been limited to your own wounds and injuries however the higher ups had mentioned that in the future, it could evolve if nurtured properly.
You could still feel the pain for a while afterwards, it was a reasonable drawback. Exiting the arcade, your steps were staggered as you dragged the two missing persons who had been rendered unconscious. Leaning into a vending machine, your next instruction was to wait for the clean up crew to arrive and sort the mess, and then back to headquarters to sort the paperwork out. Whipping your phone out, you thought you’d scroll around social media for a bit as you waited. What greeted you was a dozen messages and missed calls from Nanami.
Ichiji said you are on a mission, why am I not aware of this mission?
Are you still on the mission?
It’s late now, have you gone back home?
y/n.
[7 Missed Calls from Nanami Kento]
Your fingers began typing, you didn’t know where to start. It was a jumbled up effort to connect your incoherent sentences with one another, thus you kept typing and deleting every sentence you had drafted. Right, you should start by apologizing for keeping him in the dark — that was a way to start.
No way in hell's name had you expected to meet Nanami Kento hours after his shift had ended. But there he was, in flesh, “Y/n!”
Nanami wore a basic black button up and navy trouser, not in the damn suit he always wore to work. “Uh.. I was just about to write back” You stammered, looking like a criminal that had been caught during the act. Nanami wasted no time looking you up and down. He noted that there were tears in your clothes and beside your dishevelled appearance, there was no apparent wound. Nanami knew instinctively that you had activated your cursed technique, which meant that you were injured. “We should let Shoko check you tomorrow.” Nanami mumbled under his breath.
“It’s like 10pm now, you’re not supposed to be here.” You blurted out, painfully understanding Nanami’s disdain for overtime.
He raised his brows, staring at your feature, as if you were the strange one here who wasn’t making much sense. “Am I not your mentor?”
“Nanami, you are! It’s just… isn’t this considered overtime?”
“Was that why I wasn’t informed of this mission?” You silently nodded, which was returned with a heaved sigh from the tall blonde himself. He rubbed at his temple, the muscles on his jaw were taut as he attempted to compose himself.
“Y/n, you did a great job today. Next time, I’d prefer to hear any kind of news from you yourself instead of Ijichi.” Who would have known that Nanami had lost all sense of reasoning the moment Ijichi let it slip that you were on a solo mission — he thought it was one terrible joke that Ijichi had mustered up but that man was too shrivelled up to even muster an ounce of humor. He was proud truly, to see y/n grow rapidly but no one was truly invincible in the world of jujutsu.
“Yes sir.” Just in time, the clean up crews arrived on time and you turned against your heel, about to bid farewell from the current site.
Nanami’s presence loomed finitely, “Are you going back to rest?”
“I have to work on the report.” You answered the man, the two of you were walking side by side. Nanami was conspicuously tall, he towered over your height easily.
“Let’s do it together, it’ll be more efficient.”
Nanami Kento went on overtime during your first solo mission. You’d remember that day for the rest of your life. Nanami had gone back to the headquarter to help you write up half of the report. Halfway through, your stomach had growled from hunger, it was due to the darn curse keeping you trapped for hours. The lights on the headquarters were primarily closed, you remember how Nanami had held your hand and guided you over the dark corridors and into the pantry. That night, you also learnt that Nanami was a freak for precision. It was to the extent where he’d measure the boiling water you’d need for instant noodles down to the last milliliter.
Every work day with Nanami turned into a layer of habits and inside jokes. You’d bring him coffee and he’d bring you pastries — especially after you affirmed your love for sweets. For every silence that beat against the two of you, you’d somehow broken it down by asking silly questions. “Nanami, do you measure the amount of water you drink everyday?”
“Precisely 2.5L, y/n.” The old Nanami wouldn’t have entertained your antics, however you knew the Nanami sitting in front of you currently and he knew you as well. It had been a year since you were placed under him and you could have never imagined the two of you would develop such a comfortable bond and trust over one another.
“Why’d you leave jujutsu before?”
Nanami split a chopstick open and handed it to you. The wind gently blew, sending stray leaves flying their way in the park. “What kind of answers would you like, y/n?”
“Your truth please.” You blew on the steaming hot dumplings that Nanami had bought for you. Having completed yet another mission, you both stumbled upon an empty park and on an impromptu, you had convinced Nanami to have lunch there.
“When I was in Jujutsu High, I was on a fastrack to be a sorcerer. I hadn’t thought much of the consequences that this occupation came with.” Nanami started, staring down at the sandwich he had gotten from a bakery nearby.
“I knew being a sorcerer came with risk. I was young then, didn’t considered it properly. Losing my close friend is the reality call which allows me to question and rethink the future I want for myself.” You had abandoned the dumplings you were vying for, placing it on the side of the bench you were sitting at. Instead, you placed your hand on top of Nanami’s — a silent reassurance, projecting what he had always done for you.
Nanami enveloped your hand in his instead, his calloused fingers rubbed swirls around the back of your hand. “I think I was processing my grief differently back then. It was easier to hate the occupation that took my friend away. I convinced myself that being a sorcerer would mean baseless sacrifices and began to desire a normal life.”
“And you return because?” You leaned your head onto Nanami’s shoulder, the volume of your voice soft. Over the months, Nanami and you had settled into an alarmingly comfortable routine where neither of you shy away from physical touches involving the other.
“Because I’d rather slave away for a greater good than simple monetary values. Sometimes, we have to distance ourselves from what we were passionate about in order to learn how to rekindle that spark.” Nanami leaned back into you as well. He offered the first bite of his sandwich to you, in which you graciously accepted.
Your eyes jolted open at the taste of the sandwich, nodding and clapping like seals before urging Nanami to test it out. “I’m glad you came back.” You said, after every bite had been successfully digested.
“I’m glad I met you.” You continued. Nanami agreed, no truer words had ever been said.
His presence became an irrefutable piece in your life, so did yours. Nanami had been there with a giant bouquet of flowers the moment you received a notice for promotion. You had worked your way up second grade and he had spent every second reassuring you that it was a well-deserved promotion. You had no leeway to doubt yourself whenever Nanami was present.
“Nanamin, you haven’t introduced me to the lady here?” And then you met Yuji Itadori. The boy was pure sunshine packaged and dusted in the form of a human. Nanami was extremely fond of him, you knew him well enough to recognize the familiar resignation in his sigh — it was tired yet tender. The two words that described Nanami perfectly.
“She’s Y/n L/n, Itadori. Y/n has worked with me for a while now.” Yuji brought your hand over to his before furiously shaking it, a huge grin etched on his face.
“Is Y/n your girlfriend, Nanamin?” Nanami almost spat out the coffee he had just gulped. Any more of Yuji’s questions and he swore he’d get indigestion.
You were quick on your feet unlike the obviously flustered Nanami. “We’re partners!’
As an assist, you nudged Nanami’s side with your elbow. “Right, Ken?” Nanami had ignored your attempt at damage control. He disliked the connotations of simply being friends with you, but he was afraid of being in a relationship in this line of job. He was afraid he’d be gone one day and that you’d go through the same kind of grief he once went through.
Yuji stared at y/n, and stared back at Nanami. He was utterly unconvinced of the relationship between the two adults in front of him but he’d play it off. “Suuure, you are.” Yuji drawled, a faint smile found his feature — he was glad that as it turned out, his favorite teacher had someone to depend on.
The three settled into a comfortable routine, they’d either have lunch or dinner together. You’d cook dinner at your apartment with the help of Nanami, and Yuji would be all geared up, ready for the dishes. And now the two people you had treasured were now in Shibuya, fighting for their lives. You stared at the letter Shoko had handed to you, a little something from Nanami, she had said. Y/n was told not to open the letter until tomorrow but you could hardly wait, with the nerves eating you inside out.
To the partner I cherish most — y/n,
Time seems to flow briskly when I find myself with you. It had been two years since I had the privilege of meeting you. I have come to a realization that no quantifiable amount of time will ever be enough when it comes to being with you. Thus, it pains me greatly to know that a mere two years will be all that I have of you.
The handwriting was undoubtedly Nanami’s. The content of the letter wasn’t one you’d imagine. Instead of hoping for the future, Nanami wrote as if he had surrendered into fate. You grabbed the keys to your apartment and slipped on the first shoe you saw on the doorway. Your hands were trembling, struggling to piece the key precisely into the whole. “Fuck!” you cursed, the key slid from your hold and into the ground. You bent forward to pick it up, panic rising up the bile on your stomach.
“Calm down, he’d be okay.” You whispered to yourself, hoping the false pretense you had deluded yourself in would somehow stop the quivering. Once unlocked, you sprinted down the stairs, skipping over a few dozens of staircases at once — the lift would take too long. Any public transport wouldn’t be viable to go to Shibuya currently, so you took the bike you usually used to commute to work. You couldn’t think, your feet were just peddling with enough grit and force to race through time.
If I could compile all of my regrets, all of the things I wished I would have said to you, the actions I wished I would have taken — perhaps only then, can I move away from cowardice. Only then, could the voices of truth finally resounded. Forgive me truly for writing this on a piece of letter. In the end, I wasn’t brave enough to covet the feelings I held for you in reality. How could I profess if all that awaited was misery? It’d hurt less to grieve the loss of a friend than a lover. Above all, it would pain me greatly to have another man comfort you in their embrace. Call it the selfishness of a man who has nothing left to lose.
Nanami wasn’t the only one with regrets, you were made of them. If he had been a coward, then you both would have been a pair of cowards. Both too afraid to lose, both too afraid to move, and both on the brink of losing it all.
Fortunately, Shibuya had been a close journey from your apartment. The moment you bypassed the barrier that had been erected, the putrid stench of death and cries of the people invaded your eardrums. Buildings were burning, citizens deformed, sorcerers fatally injured — the sight was horrid, a small part of you felt immense guilt. You had been sitting comfortably in your apartment, unaware of the hell that was breaking loose. And you wanted to help everyone, truly, but to tend to damage of this scale would take days if not weeks. It was selfish but you had to find Nanami.
You cut through the crowd, shouting for his name. Your mind raced continuously, although you didn’t want to, the ugly parts in your head envisioned Nanami long gone — that you wouldn’t be able to tell him the words you had wanted to say since forever. “Y/n, why are you here?” You heard Shoko’s voice, and sprinted to the tent where the casualties had resided.
You grabbed Shoko by her shoulder the moment you saw her, the amount of force exerted by your grip surprised Shoko herself. “Is Kento here?” Shoko shook her head, the sight of her friend being so unsettled was something she had never seen before.
“Ijichi would know, he’s inside.”
You didn’t waste any time, marching straight ahead to the makeshift bed which Shoko had kindly pointed out. Ijichi looked terrible but his state tells you a lot about the state Nanami was dealing with.
“Where’s Kento at?”
“Y/n, h-he’s in the subway, down the BF5 platform. B-but the communication has been cut, and it’s d-dangerous there. I failed them.” Ijichi sobbed, his blood had seeped into the makeshift bed, indicating a severe bleeding — even while so, he was suffocating from the failure that would surely haunt him for life.
“You did all that you could, thank you Ijichi.” You nodded at him, Shoko already by the other side of the bed, ready to heal the poor guy. Time was a luxury, after you had the exact coordinates confirmed, you left for where Nanami was supposed to be. You could never get used to the state Shibuya was in, the once bustling section of the city was more akin to barren of despair. Everything was crimson red, it was all too cruel.
Even if time was not by our side, I thanked the universe everyday for connecting our lives together. Do you recall the day you cried on the streets after our mission? I wasn’t adept with words that could deliver comfort, I didn’t have tissues back then — I had to use my tie to wipe away your tears. If I were to think back, that’d be the moment I ‘fell’ for you. It wasn’t a crash out of nowhere, the love I had was an accumulation of the mundane everyday that we spent together. From every visit to local bakeries, to every coffee you had gotten for me, to nights where for once we’d be honest about ourselves. It was all that we had, all that we weren’t, and all that we could have, that constitutes this feeling of love, in which I have for you.
It was hard to navigate Shibuya’s subway, but Ijichi’s coordinates were precise enough. And you’d be thankful for all that he had done once this was all over. You found them quick enough, but always a tad bit too late. Nanami, Maki, and Naobito were all at a brink of exhaustion. In the years you had been a sorcerer, this was a sight you had never seen before. The three of them stood in the ruined subway corridor, you felt it then, a silent yet impending surge of cursed energy coming from where they were.
“Get down!!” You yelled. Nanami would have sworn that he was hearing things, you shouldn’t be here. But even if it was a dream, he’d listen to you any time. The trio docked, following your warning, that was when a gush of fire erupted and unveiled Jogo.
“Still too late.” Jogo murmured, the speed at which he moved was hard for the exhausted trio to keep up with. You ran, heart palpitating faster with each step closer. Jogo walked past Nanami, a hand onto his torso — you watched it all happen, all too quickly, fire engulfed Nanami. “That’s one.” You were completely ignored by Jogo but it was fine, it worked out in your favor. You dropped to your knees by the time Nanami was within arms reach, his condition was terrible and you didn’t even know where to start.
“No. It’ll hurt.” Nanami’s scorched hand grabbed on your palm tight, refusing any sort of help as he knew it would only hurt you in the process. Even in the face of danger, Nanami had always thought of your cursed technique as a double-edged sword. As much as possible, he wouldn’t want you to use it recklessly — even if his life was at stake. He’d rather die than let you be in pain.
“I’ll take just enough, so please, let’s share it okay.” You didn’t want to hear Nanami’s protest any longer. Your curse energy enveloped Nanami’s wound and you clenched your teeth, bracing for the tenfold of impact that would hit you any moment now. Nanami, even in pain, was an angel, he tightened the hold he held on your hand, as if to make his presence known even when the pain would hit you, “I’ve got you.” Nanami said, his voice weaker than ever. You could cry at this moment.
Nanami’s pain was immeasurable. You had shrieked, body bent and convulsing as each wave of hurt was delivered with increasing intensity. Tears began to flow irrationally, and Jogo who was about to prey on Maki and Naobito had diverted their attention to you instead. Even amidst the pain, you could feel it, there was no way you could win a fight against Jogo. But you had to somehow try. Even if Nanami and you were doomed to die now, you’d at least be together.
Jogo was going after you, he had deemed the anomaly in front of him of a higher priority than the 2 crippled and weak sorcerers by the side. And you were too loud, he had no qualms about watching doomed lovers but you in particular rubbed him off the wrong way. You flicked your wrist then. Immediately, Jogo felt a sense of discomfort boiling inside his body. From his inside, a fire, much akin to his, was eating away at his life force.
You flicked your wrist again, this time a gaping hole tore open the middle of Jogo’s body. He vomited, finally understanding that the whole thing was your doing. He clicked his tongue, you were the worst opponent he could ever ask for — unlike the other sorcerers you weren’t worn out. It was then that he felt a dawning pressure, a cursed energy so great unlike others — Lord Sukuna’s awakening was close.
“Consider yourself lucky.” Jogo left without another word. As much as he’d want to continue the charade, his priority list had been rearranged.
Your body gave out, and you momentarily collapsed on top of Nanami. You had lied to him, saying you’d take in just enough. No, you had to take the brunt of the entire burn or else Nanami would never make it. Fortunately, there was a person to release it — thus that mean you only bottled the pain for a while, even if that was the case, the pain was still real and you felt it wrecked your body.
Blood trickled down your nose, Nanami stared, horrified at the sight he had seen. It wasn’t a mere nosebleed, you had blood gushing out of your eyes either.
“Y/n, are you with me?” Nanami called out, feeling her body which had laid on top of his hadn’t moved in a while now. Most of his pain had subsided, no doubt your doing. You had overexerted yourself to save him. He had to get you to safety, Nanami wrapped his arms on you and stood up, he nodded to where Maki and Naobito were situated. They smiled back at him weakly, understanding the distress that had contorted the man’s features.
“I didn’t write that letter so that you’d be here.” Nanami began to speak, he had you on his back, your arms weakly dangled on his neck.
“But we always seem to find one another, don’t we?” He chuckled, the aftertaste astringent when he realized you hadn’t been responding to a word he said. Had you even read his letter to the end — knowing you, you’d probably bolted out of your apartment the moment you read the first sentence.
I love you y/n. Even if I could never hear you say these words, I’d be content with you knowing that my heart passionately longs for you. Every heartbeat, every pump of joy this body had known, was ignited by you truly. I love you so much that it hurts, this wasn’t the ending of us that I had in mind. As I now envision Malaysia, I see you there.
Nanami had to get to Shoko as soon as possible. He was out of the station within moments, a part of him forced himself to continue with his speeches, even if you weren’t responding, even if your body started feeling a little too cold for his liking. He made it out of the station but they were still a distance away from Shoko’s tent.
“Stay awake please.” Nanami pleaded, allocating every ounce of energy he had left to make it to Shoko’s in time. He felt it then, a small twitch on your pink — he exhaled a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he had been holding.
The relentless sprint didn’t take long for a trained man like Nanami, he was running on pure adrenaline. Simply, on the drive and desire to keep you safe. Nanami could see Shoko’s tent before long, he needed to hold on just a little longer, for the both of you.
“We’ll be okay, You’ll be okay.” Nanami whispered reassurances, even if he knew your consciousness was fading — it was an act to comfort himself, it was an act to remain hopeful. He couldn’t just lose hope when he was already right in front of the tent.
“Shoko!” He yelled out, falling onto his knees, the rush dissipated into an overbearing emptiness. Just then, his vision clouded, and he wasn’t sure if he was delivering the words he needed to. He heard Ijichi’s panicked voice. He saw a glimpse of Shoko’s hair. And then he felt your hand tighten the hold on his neck before darkness engulfed him.
Save y/n please.
Nanami’s whole letter
To the partner I cherish most — y/n,
Time seems to flow briskly when I find myself with you. It had been two years since I had the privilege of meeting you. I have come to a realization that no quantifiable amount of time will ever be enough when it comes to being with you. Thus, it pains me greatly to know that a mere two years will be all that I have of you.
If I could compile all of my regrets, all of the things I wished I would have said to you, the actions I wished I would have taken — perhaps only then, can I move away from cowardice. Only then, could the voices of truth finally resounded. Forgive me truly for writing this on a piece of letter. In the end, I wasn’t brave enough to covet the feelings I held for you in reality. How could I profess if all that awaited was misery? It’d hurt less to grieve the loss of a friend than a lover. Above all, it would pain me greatly to have another man comfort you in their embrace. Call it the selfishness of a man who has nothing left to lose.
Even if time was not by our side, I thanked the universe everyday for connecting our lives together. Do you recall the day you cried on the streets after our mission? I wasn’t adept with words that could deliver comfort, I didn’t have tissues back then — I had to use my tie to wipe away your tears. If I were to think back, that’d be the moment I ‘fell’ for you. It wasn’t a crash out of nowhere, the love I had was an accumulation of the mundane everyday that we spent together. From every visit to local bakeries, to every coffee you had gotten for me, to nights where for once we’d be honest about ourselves. It was all that we had, all that we weren’t, and all that we could have, that constitutes this feeling of love, in which I have for you.
I love you y/n. Even if I could never hear you say these words, I’d be content with you knowing that my heart passionately longs for you. Every heartbeat, every pump of joy this body had known, was ignited by you truly. I love you so much that it hurts, this wasn’t the ending of us that I had in mind. As I now envision Malaysia, I see you there.
You have to eat well. I trust that you’d find a healthier method to cope with grief. You’re strong y/n, so much more than you ever credit yourself for. It has been my life’s greatest joy to be able to spend these years and watch over your growth. Fulfill a wish of mine, will you, my love? Stay strong for the days ahead. Be healthy and take care of Yuji.
If there was a life after this, I’d find you. No matter how long it takes. I love you, I wished I could have said it enough.
Yours forever,
Kento.
It wasn't written but they both survived.
A/n: I wanted to make it short but it ended up being longer than I thought. Hope everyone enjoyed it! Reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated 𓏲ּ𝄢
hiromi is just like your dead husband nanami (っ◞‸◟ c)
it's in ways that make your chest ache.
it’s the way he loosens his tie when he walks through the door—two tugs, then a slow pull, the same exact rhythm your kento used every evening.
you’re standing in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove you already can’t taste, and for a second you forget. you turn, expecting to see that tired, gentle smile, the one that always made you feel like coming home was worth it. but it’s higuruma. his tie is draped over his shoulder now, and he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what just happened in your head.
"long day?" he asks, his voice low and careful. you nod. he doesn’t push it, he just steps behind you and rests his hand on your lower back, the same spot your kento always touched when he wanted you to know he was there without crowding you. your eyes burn. you keep stirring.
"you’re doing it again," he murmurs after a moment.
"doing what?"
"stirring the same spot. you used to tell him it helped you think."
you stop. the wooden spoon hovers above the pot. "i didn’t realize i was doing that."
"i know." his thumb traces a small circle against your spine. "it’s alright."
he reads the newspaper at the table the way your kento did—pages folded neatly, one hand resting on his chin, his brow furrowed in that particular way that made him look older than he was. you watch him from the doorway sometimes, your arms crossed, your heart doing something complicated in your chest.
your kento used to mutter under his breath when he disagreed with an article. higuruma does the same thing. same cadence. same quiet disdain. you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. you wonder if you’re slowly erasing nanami by noticing these things, or if you’re keeping him alive by seeing him in someone else.
"this writer’s an idiot," higuruma mutters, flipping the page.
"what’d he say?"
"that overtime is a sign of dedication."
you smile despite yourself. "how stupid."
when higuruma makes tea, he always pours yours first. he always lets it steep exactly three minutes, the way you once mentioned liking it. your kento had done that too—quietly, without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world to remember how you took your tea.
you sit across from higuruma at the kitchen table, steam rising between you, and you don’t know whether to thank him or cry. so you just sip, and he watches you over the rim of his own cup, his eyes dark and knowing and unbearably kind.
"you’re quiet tonight," he says.
"just thinking."
"about him?"
you hesitate. "sometimes i kiss your mole and forget whose face i’m looking at."
higuruma touches the small dark spot on his left cheek without thinking. "it’s still mine. even when you forget."
even at night, when he touches you, it’s almost too much.
he undresses you the way your kento did—slow and methodical, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be. his fingers work each button, each clasp, with the same careful precision. when your dress pools at your feet, he steps back to look at you, his gaze traveling over your body like he’s memorizing it. your kento used to do that too. like you were something worth studying.
"you’re beautiful," higuruma says, the same words nanami always used. not a compliment. a fact.
"you sound like him."
"i know, baby." he reaches out, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "does it hurt?"
"yes."
"do you want me to stop?"
"no."
higuruma kisses you the same way—deep, unhurried, his hand cradling the back of your head like you might break if he’s not careful. you’re on the bed now, your back against the pillows, and he’s hovering over you, his weight familiar and foreign all at once.
when he pushes inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours. you close your eyes. and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself pretend. the weight of him, the rhythm of his hips, the way he breathes your name against your neck like it’s a prayer.
it could be your kento. it could be. your hands find higuruma’s back, your nails digging in, and you bite your lip to keep from saying the wrong name.
he notices. of course he does. he always does.
"stay with me," he whispers, his voice rough, his thrusts never faltering. "i know where you go. but i need you here. with me." you open your eyes and he’s looking at you, his face inches from yours, his expression open and raw and so painfully understanding it makes you want to sob.
"i’m sorry," you breathe.
he shakes his head, his lips brushing yours. "don’t be. just—stay."
you do. you stay. you let him fuck you gently, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining above your head. he doesn’t rush, he know how to give you what you need, what you’re willing to take, and when you cum, it’s with his name on your lips—his name, not your kento's, though the ghost of it lingers in the back of your throat like something you can’t quite swallow.
after, he holds you the way he did—your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. you stare at the wall, your eyes dry now, your heart a complicated tangle of grief and guilt and something that might be love, if you let it.
"i’m not him," higuruma says quietly, his voice already thick with sleep. "i know that. but i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere."
you reach up and press your lips to the mole on his cheek, the same one you used to kiss on nanami. it’s warm beneath your mouth. real and present.
"i know," you whisper against his skin. "i’m trying to remember that."
he kisses your temple, his arm tightening around you. "take your time. i’ll still be here when you do."
Theme: Post-War
Summary: There's a lot to adjust to after the events of the war and the Rumbling. Lots of pain, lots of healing. It's hard to move on when the memories of a completely different life can hold you back, especially when you're as injured as the former Captain of the Survey Corps. Who's Levi without the title? And what are you if not a soldier? Well, maybe keeping your word on an old promise might just answer both of your questions.
Word Count: 4,340
Warnings: Smut, mentions of injuries and war, did not edit this the way I usually would my other fics because i ran out of time ≡(▔﹏▔)≡
A/N: AHHH MY FIRST SMUT EVERRRR AND 2ND EVER ONESHOTTT please be kind `(*>﹏<*)′ but also! I might just upload late for the other days because April has been CRAZYYY for me. I had to perform CPR on a sick rescue kitten and raise funds to treat him, then he died, then we had to get him cremated. And the same day we rushed him to the vet, my friend 611km away on a different island got kicked out of his house so I had to raise funds for that too, then arrange a care package for him. But I had already committed to joining the event so I WILL ALKHDLAHDLJA EVEN IF I'M GONNA SUPER LATE SMH 〒▽〒
⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆
For the first time in a long time, the night is quiet, the wind carries no trace of blood or sweat, no attempts at grieving cries and wails—the fear that loud, thundering sounds will shake the ground beneath you is gone. Even when you close your eyes, the loud thumping of your heart is gone, too.
It’s the first time you know, truly, that you’ll never have them again. There’s no need to sit idly and savour the quiet, star-filled night as though it might me your last.
Every breath you take won’t act as a ticking clock. Air will fill your lungs, relax your body, escape, and be set free without the burden that it may be the underwhelming finale of your life. It’s not longer a privilege, but a sign of normalcy—the kind of normal that’s almost so boring you could cry tears of joy.
“Ready to go?” You hold the tea cup gently in your hands as you open Levi’s bedroom door, peering in to see that he’s yet to change into his outdoor clothes that you've laid out on the bed.
He’s looking out of his window, but he quietly takes the cup away from your hands when you give it to him. He takes a sip—he smiles. A small one, but real. Bigger than the ones he used to give you back in Paradis.
“Thanks,” he mutters. It lacks the usual warmth it usually carries. Though it's normal for both of you to have your bad days, they've been getting lesser and lesser as time passes, and even if they do get frequent, it's not as severe. Not compared to when you were fresh out of the war.
You're not sure if this is a bad day for him. All you know is that you miss the comfort that normally laces his voice nowadays.
You sit down at the edge of the bed, facing him. “Everything okay? Are you not up for it today?”
The question lingers as you observe him. He seems at peace, unbothered. The room is in the same state—incredibly clean, though it’s pretty empty by your standards. You don’t see much personal items aside from the one cabinet that contains what's left of his gear from when he was Captain.
The air in the room is still, but fresh from the slightly open windows. You’ve always insisted that ventilation is good for him even if it’s not particularly windy today. There are plants and flowers placed on his window sill—ones that you can make into tea, so he always has a fresh cup every morning and never run out of stock.
You were supposed to go on a morning stroll today since the town is looking fairly good despite the ongoing rebuilding. It’s only been a few months, and yet there are already solid structures and stable shelters.
During your walk, Levi would get his daily physical therapy; the only time he gets off of his wheelchair aside from when he has to use the bathroom. Even then, he needs your assistance sometimes.
He can walk much better now, though. It’s the pain management that you both have to be consistent with.
“You shouldn’t have to go with me every time,” he scoffs, though his words are barely a mumble. He takes another sip of his tea, holding it by the handle now—the small detail makes you smile.
It took a while to reassure him that you can always get another cup if that one happens to break. You even dabbled in pottery for a while to make sure he knows you can make new ones, or repair the old ones.
You chuckle, grabbing the button-up shirt on the bed and smoothing out the folds. “I want to, though.”
“Don’t you want a life outside of me?”
Somehow, your ears start to hurt from the silence that comes after. Your soft grin is wiped away instantly, and in the corner of your eye, you see that he’s looking at you now.
You set the clothing neatly on your lap and look into his steel-grey eyes. “A life outside of you is not a life at all, Levi. I’ll bring you everywhere I go if I could,” you sigh before giving him an airy laugh. “You’d never let me, though.”
His serious mood doesn’t let up. Instead, he huffs, setting the cup down on the window sill and crossing his arms. “All you do is take care of me.”
“And Gabi and Falco,” you continue, though your tone is much more enthusiastic than his. “It’s not like I stay indoors all the time, either. I go out, too. I have friends,” you shrug.
He places his hands on the wheels of his chair and moves closer to you, enough that your knees are now touching. “You go out to work. You meet with your friends to work. So we have enough money or resources to trade.”
You start thinking for a second, about what you’ve been doing recently, and maybe it’s about time you tell him the truth. So you huff in defeat and place a hand on top of Levi’s. “You’re really not up for going out today?”
He shakes his head no. “Not if it’ll keep you tied to me.”
You chuckle and the crease between his eyebrows get deeper—he doesn’t appreciate how lightly you’re taking the conversation, you can tell. So you wrap your hand around his and rest it on his lap. “That’s too bad, then.” A mischievous smile makes it’s way onto your face. “I wanted to show you the tea shop we’ve been wanting to set up. Onyankopon had a friend who was giving theirs away.”
Levi’s entire body stiffens and he clutches your hand tightly. His eyebrows are no longer frowning but now lays high in surprise, and there’s almost this unreadable glint in his eyes.
Your free hand makes its way to his other one and lace your fingers together. “I was working so we won’t have to work as much. It’s a corner-store, too. On the busiest street of town. And there’s an apartment right above it that comes with the shop. I managed to gather everything we need to set it up. We can move anytime you, Gabi, and Falco want.”
The breath he lets out is almost shaky as he closes his eyes shut, almost like he was in pain, but you knew that whatever he’s feeling is far from it. It’s the kind he makes when he’s relieved; something that both of you feel with a sting in your chest, as if it was always being squeezed—then suddenly it’s not anymore.
Your hearts have been suffocating for so long that, given the chance to breathe again, it hurts to adjust to the air.
When he opens his eyes again, they’re still as sharp as ever, looking cold, but this time there’s traces of warmth in there. A flicker of light he keeps restrained. “Yeah,” he gulps. “We should move there soon.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you—it’s tense, and you blame the oncoming tears that flood your eyes for making you sound so sentimental. Your chest hurts the same way his probably did a moment ago. It’s relief. Pure, innocent joy that you didn’t make a mistake by planning something without consulting him first.
It’s November—a month from now it’ll be his birthday. The tea shop was supposed to be a surprise, but his worries about the work you put in made you realize he must have been keeping a lot of it from you. At least now he knows that it’s not for only him.
You’ve both been dreaming of owning a tea shop since you were both in the Corps. He was your Captain, and you were his Lieutenant.
Sniffling, you squeeze his hand once, twice. “You told me back then that we can be together when hell freezes over, and I amended it. I said—”
“When the Titans are gone—”
“And I can fulfill my promise to give you a tea shop.” You gulp, and you chuckle wetly. “As dowry, I said.”
Both of you erupt in laughter, though you’re more on the teary side, and he’s trying not to be. The restraint of this man will take forever to dismantle, but at least this time, forever seems like an attainable feat.
Once you’ve calmed yourselves down, you stare at him fondly, and nerves creep up your chest, then your throat, until you feel your airways tighten just a little bit. “You want to move—does that mean you like me too?”
The laugh that escapes him looks like it surprised him too, but he continues through it. Levi isn’t one to feel awkward with eye contact but this seems to be the exception. While his hands remain in yours, his eyes travel to the floor and he clears his throat. “L/N we’ve lived together since we got here.”
When he pauses, you tilt your head down to try and catch his eyes, waiting for him to continue.
He takes a deep breath; his eyes land back on yours, softening to a degree that would terrify any cadet who’d never seen this side of him. “I think I’ve…taken a liking to you a long time ago,” he exhales, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit. “Ever since I saw you kept your quarters clean.”
You groan with a smile, letting his hand go to lightly slap his good knee. “Way to ruin the moment, Captain,” you huff with a roll of your eyes.
Levi shrugs. “It’s true. You’re the only one who cleaned the under-side of your desk.”
You groan again, this time with a hint of embarrassment, and you cover your face with both of your palms. “Only because I thought you were cute, you clean freak.”
“So you’re telling me…” he begins, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s looking quite devilish right now. “You were hot for boss so much you frequently deep cleaned your quarters?”
“You always visited so randomly for reports!!” you complained, hands falling from your face to wildly gesture around, as if it would somehow make the bright pink blush on your ears go away.
“Had to make sure you were doing your job,” he clarifies. “It was only a bonus that I got to see you.”
His words make the red spread to your cheeks. “I thought you hated me, asshole.”
“You know by now that’s how I show appreciation,” he jokes, and you can see, clear as day, the fondness in his eyes. Like iced tea in the summer—refreshing, comforting, and still warm despite the coldness of the grey. “I’d like to change that, though.”
“Kiss me.”
“W-what?” His sudden intake of breath made it sound like a stuttering gasp—which it was, but you’re not sure if he knows.
When you start giggling at his flustered state, he relaxes a little, but the shock has yet to completely wear off. Your heart starts to soften more for the captain, and a part of you wishes for something that can never be. “I really wish I could tell Erwin and Hange I made you stutter.”
“Brat,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, his eyes on anything else but your own.
“Seriously, though." Your fingers brushes his. “I gave you a tea shop; all I ask for is a kiss.” You smile innocently at him, half hoping that he would agree but also knowing that he won’t.
Levi is and always has been a complicated man. Always straying away from intimacy beyond light physical touches. It’s completely unimaginable to you how you manage to hold his hand this easily.
You’ve been doing it for a while—the light touching of your fingers, the back of your hands when you used to walk side-by-side during expeditions. It never became more until the war was at its peak. Even then, the most that happened was an embrace and words exchanged, sounding stiff and professional yet feeling profound and soul-crushing at the time.
This time won’t be any different. Levi would never—
The feeling of his lips on your knuckles is soft, warm from the hot tea you made him, leaving a burning sensation that becomes a sharp contrast against the cold November. It feels like a betrayal when the wind starts to blow and it makes you want to get closer to him, to the heat you’ve been craving for so long.
It feels like a betrayal because you’re not sure if you can. Like a moth to a flame, you think, except you’re the flame, asking for a vulnerable moth to come closer. You don’t want to burn Levi.
But it's starting to feel like he's willing to be.
Especially when he leans forward, cupping the side of your face with one hand, getting closer and closer to yours until you can feel his breath on your lips.
He’s not a moth, and you’re not a flame. Because when his lips touch yours, you feel the fire burning in your chest, and you doubt he doesn’t feel the same when he pushes against you harder, moving his lips almost desperately, tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip. While it’s only for a second, it makes your breath stutter before you have to pull away.
Unfortunately, the position can’t be comfortable for him, having to lean so far forward.
“Let’s move to the bed,” you sigh, absolutely breathless, bringing one of your hand up to the side of his face just has his drops from yours. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”
When he shakes his head, his eyes avert from shame. “I won’t be able to do any of the work.”
With an airy chuckle, you bring your other hand up to his face as well, nudging his head slightly so he can look at your face, laughing when you squeeze his cheeks together playfully and a scowl grows on his face. Still, he doesn’t remove himself from your hold, only gains enough confidence to gaze directly into your eyes.
“Maybe I was lucky enough not to get permanently injured because the universe wanted at least one of us to be mobile enough to have mind-blowing sex,” you tease, voice husky and out of breath. “What do you think?”
Levi’s scowl deepens and he huffs, but the apple of his cheeks turn a shade of bright red, looking away for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, but he does move away from your hands, bracing himself on his wheelchair to stand up.
You support his body until he reaches the bed and sits down; you scooch over, giving him space to lean against the headboard.
He doesn’t have to say anything—you help him remove his house slippers and place them neatly on the floor right beside yours.
When you crawl over to him, your knees are on either side of his legs, careful not to put your weight on his thighs from fear of hurting his injury. A part of you wants to rest your arms on his shoulders and play with his surprisingly soft undercut, but you grasp both of his hands instead, knowing that he’s at least comfortable with that. “You’re the boss, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t stiffen this time, but his ears do turn an even darker shade of pink. “Still hot for boss? Is that a kink of yours?”
You roll your eyes and give him a dead-eyed stare. “You’re still hung up on that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t have a lot of things to hold over your head after you’ve taken care of me for over 7 months now.”
With a sigh, you squeeze his hands and try to give him the most reassuring smile you can muster, though you can’t help but be a little sad at the thought that he thinks of himself as a burden to you. You’re not sure when or if you can ever make him believe otherwise.
So, instead, you opt for banter. “We’ll get to the kinks soon.” With a mischievous smile, you smirk at your former captain. “If only you were consistent with your physical therapy then maybe you could’ve been fucking me by now—”
Levi’s lips are on yours instantly, hands moving away from your hold so they can rest on your hips. His mouth is moving hard and fast, tongue pushing forcibly inside—when it brushes yours, both of you groan, swallowing each other’s sounds with ease.
To your surprise, his hands pushes you down, and you feel something hard press against your core. The yelp that leaves you is muffled by his mouth, but you put your hands on his chest to stop him, but only enough to be able to talk.
“I don’t want to hurt your leg,” you mutter, feeling his breath fanning your lips.
Levi shakes his head, breathing hard, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating under your palm. “You’re not going to, I promise. It only hurts under the knee.”
A comfortable quiet falls over you both as he waits—his voice as thick as honey, and he smells of tea and vanilla, reminding you of the scented candles you gifted him when he took his first few painless steps since the war.
The memory hits you with a welcoming embrace, and it calms your worries enough to rest your weight on him, grinding your hips against his for a moment.
He groans and his hips twitch, the hardness in his pants meeting the heat in yours in an erratic, uncontrolled manner that makes your heart flutter. Levi’s head falls onto your shoulder and he takes a second to breathe as his grip tightens on your waist. “Fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head and nuzzling in the crook of your neck. “Been wanting this for a while.”
You pepper his neck with kisses in the meantime while your hands travel from his chest to his stomach, lifting his shirt enough to touch his skin. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask in between kisses. No one will care about marks, so you let yourself leave small bruises that make your eyes dilate every time you see the darkening patch on his perfect skin.
Levi thrusts up again, this time at a consistent pace. “You’ve seen me in a wheelchair, right?” he chuckles against your neck which results in laughter from you—he knows damn well you’re ticklish there.
His amusement doesn’t last long, though, because when you start meeting his hips with your own thrusts, both of you start panting even harder.
“Your leg looks pretty fine now,” you groan, biting his neck gently when your clit starts to throb. The pleasure spikes when you feel him twitch in his pants and you let out a full moan as you bury your face into his shoulder. “Fuck,” you mutter.
“Only because you’re so anal about physical therapy,” he counters, though there’s not bite to it, not when you find his sweet spot right above his collarbone. “Shit, shit—” Levi throws his head back, making a soft thud against the cushioned headboard.
By this point you give up on the banter and your hands start to fumble against the zipper of his pants. “You good?” The shakiness in your voice can’t be helped—you’re excited, but also nervous that he might want to stop. If so, you’d gladly move away from him, but when he nods his head in approval, you continue your ministrations until you’re hooking your fingers under his boxers.
You stop for a moment, looking up at him. Those stormy eyes are staring so intensely at you that you fear you might turn into a puddle. Gone are the cold, harsh stares of a hardened captain, replaced by the broken, but ever-so-loving Levi Ackerman that you got to know in your months of recovery. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” It’s breathy, almost too low to hear, but it’s there anyway.
So you take his cock out and run your thumb across his slit, spreading the precum around the head. It makes him hiss until his grip on you is almost bruising—he doesn’t need whatever Ackerman abilities he had to remain insanely strong.
You try to hide your surprise, but the amusement in his eyes makes it clear that he caught the widening of yours the moment you saw how long and thick he is.
“Everything okay?” he quips, obviously smug.
It doesn’t last long. You jerk him one, twice, three times, and he’s throwing his head back with the first, loudest moan you’ve pulled out of him so far. “Holy shit—”
“Everything okay?” you mock, letting your free hand caress the side of his face as you bring your lips to his once more. Thankfully, you’re wearing a rather comfortable skirt, which means you need only to rise a few inches and let go of his hard cock for a second to pull your panties to the side.
Once you have a hold of him again, you angle him just right, until you’re sitting down and feeling your walls clench tightly around him.
You both moan into the kiss and Levi has to use one of his hands to hold the back of your neck, pushing himself harder against your mouth just to muffle his own pleasured sounds.
When you start moving, Levi grunts, jaw clenching and his teeth biting down onto your lower lip.
Your body starts to get hot the faster you bounce on his lap, feeling his thick cock impale you so deep you feel him kiss your cervix repeatedly. The flush on your face gets worse the more you pant onto his lips, desperately trying to continue kissing him—but unforunately, the lewd moans spilling out of you make it hard
"Shit," you whisper, wetness beginning to pool around his pelvis. One moment Levi has one hand on your waist, the other on the back of your neck, but then he has both on your ass, gripping tightly, anchoring himself—he starts thrusting into you slightly, making you yelp and throw your head back at the unexpected pressure.
Your thighs begin to tremor and you collapse onto your lover, throwing your arms around his neck, chest to chest with him while you nuzzle your face under his jaw and attempting to ground yourself from the pleasure.
You have no idea how Levi manages to lift himself up, but the grunts and moans slipping out of his lips, words brushing against your hair as he presses his mouth against it, tells you that he's neck-deep in bliss as much as your are—injuries be damned.
Dipping your head, you nip at his neck and suck, sure to leave a mark as you keep grinding against him, your pleasure-filled cries muffled and drowned out by his own.
The room echoes with the sound of skin against skin; heavy panting bouncing aorund the room—thank god Gabi and Falco are out right now, you're not sure you're ready to have The Talk with them if it came down to it.
Levi's thrusts get faster and you can't help but sit up straight, throwing your head back at the sudden change of pressure and tempo, his cock pressing against your walls so deliciously that sparks of pleasure spreads from your heat.
He wastes no time leaning forward and enveloping one of your nipples into his mouth, his hands still tightly holding onto your ass—he'll mark you, too, by the end of this, whether it's because of his fingers or his mouth on your breasts.
At the added stimulation your thighs start to tremble and your moans turn into high-pitched whines, and when you hear Levi groan so lewdly that he has to press his lips harder into your chest, the tightness in your core snaps, your entire body shaking with intense bliss that your eyes start rolling to the back of your head.
Your groans turn into growl-like whimpers when his rhythm gets sloppy but his thrusts get harder—he screams your name, muffled by yout tits, though loud enough that you hear it as clear as day even in your haze.
"Fuck—" he groans, pulling out suddenly with the help of his arms lifitng you just fast enough for him to paint your stomach in thick ropes of cum instead of your warm walls.
Both of you collapse, making sure that you roll off of him; if you didn't, you'd both be sticky, and even though you're deep into your post-orgasmic brain fog, you know it would make Levi uncomfortable.
You're staring up at the ceiling of his room as you're both trying ot catch your breath when his hand reaches for yours—Levi hooks his pinky around your own, and it feels oddly intimate despite that fact that you're covered in his cum.
You turn your head to see his blissed out state, still looking up, his eyes hazy and droopy. His skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat and you can see the marks you left littering his neck.
Levi sees you smirk from the corner of his eyes. When he turns to look back at you—you can almost say he's gazing at you with a dream-like stare, as if he's finally content after all this time you've spent under one roof.
You've seen him happy, maybe even peaceful.
But there's always something.
Something about his expressions that make it look like he thinks there's a missing piece somewhere. That he wants more—and you know that he's always been afraid of wanting more.
After all, both of you already feel like not having to live as soldiers is too much; too much for something you both deserved.
Maybe a part of him also feels like you shouldn't deserve it, because you're cursed with remembering all the lives you know should be living yours right now.
Now that he's looking into your eyes, though, and with the warmth that's spreading across your chest, the soft breathing and bewitched stares exchanged between you both, contained inside the privacy of your own home and hopefully your future one as well—you think you know what that something might be.
And it might just be the same answer to everything you've felt like you've been missing, too.
CHAPTER 4 IS NOT ON MY LAPTOP I REPEAT IT IS N O T ON MY LAPTOP WHERE THE FUCK IS IT THAT'S LIKE W E L L OVER 6K WORDS WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK
