#caesar writes

[cloud-craft]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

First chapter of the crossover is up! Its not much, but its a start

[caesarwrites]

summer dream

Ship: Levi/Historia. Post-canon. Explicit sexual content. Can also be read on AO3.

Levi accompanies Historia to the shore. In return, she ensures that he enjoys their time together alone.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s summer. You knew that before we came out here.”

Annoyed, and not at all placated by her response, Levi drapes his forearm over his face to block out the sun. They have a white parasol stuck into the sand, giving them a semblance of shade, but ultimately it does nothing against the blistering sun.

Historia seems to pay no mind, walking out to the ocean, in nothing but a swimsuit. It’s white, clinging to her figure—still lean, albeit fuller with womanhood and a healthy diet—and Levi can’t help but appreciate the way it accentuates her curves and sun kissed skin. She’s dragged him out to the sea for the weekend, insistent that she deserves the weekend away.

That they deserve the weekend away.

Levi is perfectly happy to sit his retired ass at the Orphanage, drinking tea, and reminding her that he has no duties to attend to as far as the military is concerned. Of course, the Queen does not have such a luxury, but this doesn’t serve to quiet Levi’s protests.

Ultimately, Historia won out.

And now he’s getting sunburnt in return.

He’s sweating, but he refuses to go into the water. He’s never trusted what life is hiding beneath the surface—especially after Jean got his foot caught in a crab’s hold, claw clamped down on his foot until it broke skin.

He enjoys the shade of the parasol, laid out in his swim shorts on a towel, and he doesn’t mind his numerous scars on display. Historia has seen them all countless times, traced each raised mark, leaving bruises of her own along each scar to show how much they don’t bother her. He doesn’t mind when it’s her—she’s the only one privy to him these days, after all.

“You’re turning red.”

Her voice prompts him to lift his forearm, and he sees her approach. Her skin shines from the water dripping down her frame, her swimsuit wet and almost see-through. Her hair is wavy from the saltwater, tempting him to card his fingers through it.

“I told you. It’s hot as fuck,” Levi deadpans.

Historia reaches his feet, jutting her hip to the side. “Armin gave us that salve to help with sunburns. Put it on.”

He scoffs. “Fine.”

He sits up, but before he can reach for the cloth tote, she’s pushing him back down on the towel.

“Wha—“

Historia shushes him, splaying her fingers across his chest while throwing a leg over his lap, straddling him. Thoroughly disarmed, Levi melts under her kiss; she’s cool from the seawater, and she tastes like salt. His skin feels hot under her palms, though he’s not sure that he quite cares about the sun overhead, anymore.

Not when the Queen of Paradis is sat in his lap, rocking her hips so she’s grinding against his clothed erection.

“Plan on letting me just get burnt?” Levi asks rhetorically; he’s not complaining when she inches down, settling between his legs to pull his swim shorts down.

She shoots him a glare, but the effect is lost when she grips his cock in her small hand. He groans, dropping his head back onto the towel.

“You—“

“I know,” Historia cuts him off curtly before she promptly takes him into her mouth. He moans, squeezing his eyes shut when she drags her tongue along the underside of his cock. She hollows her cheeks when she has just the head in her mouth, glancing up at him. When she tightens her grip on his cock, stroking him when she pops off to catch her breath, he meets her gaze. He’s taken by the sight of her, lips swollen and curved up into a grin when she recognizes the way he looks drunk with pleasure. His cheeks are pink, both from the sun and mild embarrassment, doing this in such a public spot.

No one’s around, the only exception being the horses they rode on to reach this secluded area of the beach.

“You taste so good,” Historia tells him, whispering it against his cock like it’s a secret.

He whines, his voice catching in his throat.

“Levi.” She squeezes the base of his length before stroking him once, twice. “What do you want?”

Lifting his head, Levi props himself up on his elbows, his hair sticking to his forehead. He narrows his eyes, trying to look menacing and failing miserably when his face contorts, jaw slackened when she abruptly takes him into her mouth again—all of him, hitting the back of her throat.

“Fuck. Let me come—please.”

Pleased with the wanton cry, she keeps going, no longer teasing him. Levi struggles to keep his eyes open, but he wants to watch her bring him to the edge, and he especially wants to watch when he finally reaches his climax.

He quickly finds release, barely able to hold himself up when he comes, and he lets out a moan as he watches Historia swallow everything.

Dazed, he has the wherewithal to pull his shorts back up when Historia crawls onto the towel beside him. She kisses him, lazily tracing his lips with her tongue. He doesn’t mind the taste of himself on her; he’s given an idea, and he decides to just act.

Levi pushes her onto the towel, earning a yelp of surprise when she falls back. He sits between her legs, callused hands on her thighs, sitting back on his heels.

“What are you doing?” Historia asks breathlessly, goosebumps erupting across her skin as he inches his hands higher.

He lifts a leg, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh and glancing up at her.

“Returning the favor.”

[cloud-craft]

No one questioned him carrying around a bed anymore. With a cocky smile and the turning of night into day, the others just assumed it was a quirk of his. It didn’t matter that breaking it would destroy the respawn magic until he slept again, not as long as the bed sat comfortably in his inventory until sunset.

No one questioned him except one other person with eyes too big and a mouth just too wide, but other than that he’s good! Bdubs is just a quirky guy who carries a bed with him for the convenience! Nothing else.

Definitely not because of the fear of someone sneaking into his room in the dead of night, using his bed to gather material that would be used to curse him. To control him with those horrible poppets and weird charm circles. That was definitely not the reason, thank you very much.

It’s been years, he has no reason to fear someone who couldn’t have followed them into the server they call home. Why should he be scared, he’s Bdubs!

And yet, he still wears the bell and water filled orbs, builds decorated with confusing knots and carved sigils, and if he saw his fellow big-eyed friend do the same with his builds, he didn’t mention it.

And yet, the sight of the washed up body draped in purple at the shore of their shopping district filled him with dread.

Despite the torn cloak, the smeared face paint, the cracked glasses, the mere presence of the witch froze him to the spot.

Bdubs stared at an unconscious ChimneySwift, breath held as he watched the man’s chest rise and lower with the tides. A beat, and then footsteps crunched on gravel as he approached the witch.

A tap with a shoe confirmed that Chimney was out cold. Bdubs frowned as the sun began to set and the giant moon rise.

“This is going to be a problem”

[cloud-craft]

Rooftops are not Good Playgrounds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30419112/chapters/74997579

FIRST CHAPTER BAYBEE LETS GOOOOOO