pairing: levi ackerman x fem!afabreader
warning (s): 18+ content, grief, death, angst, mentions of gore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, sub levi, dom reader, badly edited, hurt/comfort???
note: iâm prolly gonna regret posting this as it is right now since i had bigger ideas for it, but itâs been sitting in my notes app for almost a year and i figure itâs decent enough as is. levi ,the loml, one day iâll pump out an actual full length fic for you instead of this lil blurb of emotionally driven p*rn đ
I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit
days had been spent accompanied by sleepless nights where the recollection of rain slicked fields filled his head. crimson poured across blades of grass like a grizzly wash of watercolor paint, dribbling down into the earth, which he could still taste on tounge. gritty and suffocating. He always wakes from these dreams as though heâd been pulled out of water, drinking in air like heâs been starved of it.
he has no time to dwell on the past. the sun creeps into the morning, and soon enough heâs pulling on his uniform and tightening belts into their buckles. new assignments drone on in the background of his mind, and he works like heâs on autopilot. even when the muscles in his arms and legs begin to ache, and his bones scream within the confines of his body, he does not stop, for at least that can distract him from the emptiness of the seats beside him in the mess halls, and the harrowing silence that fills the dusk.
heâs come outside to the fields to check on the stables when heâs met with a curious sight.
a stone, large and erroded, has been placed a few feet away from the grouped cavalry. blossoms decorate the space in front of it, filling the grass with shades of yellow, red, and purple, and whatâs most curious of all is the girl that sits in front of it. between her fingers she twirls the thin stem of a white flowerâher mind must be heavily preoccupied because she hasnât noticed that the fibers holding the stem together have gone bruisyâthe petals beginning to wilt in her hold.
sheâs muttering to herself, words he canât quite catch and doesnât care enough to try, but itâs then that he realizes she looks familiar. that familiarity brings a memory he wishes he could wipe away from the world.
you, the girl who had cradled isabels remains, tears melding with the rain pouring down unto the gore. youâd wrapped her up with the cloak off your back, and carried her all the way back to base. the sight had sickened him in the moment, just knowing that lifeless eyes and a carcass lay rotting away beneath that bone white insignia brought acid to his tounge, but heâd said nothing, even if he wanted to yell and scream, because what on earth could a stranger want with the remains of his family? what could you possibly hope to achieve by lugging grief with you like a medal? he swallowed down the rage, and looked ahead. he never saw you again after that day, but here you are now.
heâs come close enough now to slightly make out your words, and itâs when her name slips from your tounge that you have his full attention.
âwish you could see it, isabel. mâsure you wouldâve loved itâŠ.â
âwhat could you possibly know about what sheâd love?â
the words come out of his mouth before he realizes it.
theyâre bitter, angry, a sort of rage youâd spot in a wounded animal, and he looks at you as though he could pour all of his pain into you and your borrowed grief and be done with it all.
âIâŠâ The words donât seem to make their way past your lips. youâre stuck staring between the cold sharpness of his eyes and the empty space beside his head, flickering back and fourth like you could somehow find the words written in the air.
What you want to say is that youâre sorry.
Sorry for everything he must be feeling, sorry for the loss that life has dealt him, sorry that you had to remind him of it all. But then you realized he may be sick of the sorryâs, and then you think you want to tell him that she loved him, and you had understood that completely, even though youâd only been apart of her life for a small, precious fragment of time.
You want to tell him all of these things, even if it might make him hate you, even if it makes you hate yourself, and yet, you sit in silence. Mouth pressed thinly, eyes glossy, as though choking on your own shame.
He stomps away before the courage to respond finds you, the words dying on your tounge, and youâre left to mourn alone.
Itâs funny, now that he thinks about. How cold and cruel your beginning was. So different, a drastic change from the exchanges the two of you would find yourselves in now.
over time heâd see more and more of you. No longer a ghost painted in grief, or a little girl crying for her friend in the mud. Youâve grown, matured into a soldier, evident by the scars in your skin, the hardened look in your eyes, and the tears that no longer come.
As much as he fought against it, he found himself drawn to you. Maybe itâs because you knew about a small part of himself, and loved her enough to honor her when he couldnât. Maybe itâs because you fought to wedge yourself into his life, forcing him to know you, down to the atoms of your being, the endless secession of thoughts in your mindâso far and so long he had to wander the planes of your existence. Somewhere along that journey, he found himself pushing forward without your hand to guide him. He began to wonder, and soon enough he began to long, and finally, when the tension grew so thick you could cut through it with a blade, you confronted him with secrets heâd been harboring, and returned them with your own.
Itâs safe to say youâve become much more than the girl at the grave, wearing your insignia of bones.
hushed and hurried, youâre frantic in stealing away his every breath. swallowing down his frustration and yearning to take all of him for yourself, no longer reserved and eager to take up as little space in his life as possible. now, you take from him what you will and want, however much of him you can in the few minutes time allows you.
try as you might, time is an unmerciful lord.
When flowers bloom, beautiful and bright, filling the world with a spectrum of color after such bitter cold, it is hope for the future. Hope that no violent winter will fall upon the life that has sprouted, but this hope is short lived, and eventually, the clouds thicken, the world sinks into gray, and we are forced to birth anew. time holds the earth in its monstrous hands, and the joy the two of you find is picked at, threatened to be wrenched away once things have finally begun to brighten.
âi think thereâs going to be a storm.â You glare at the darkening sky, fingers digging at the thin cotton of your shirt.
âthat so?â Levi keeps his eyes on the stack of paperwork before him, the warm glow of the candle at his desk illuminating the parchment. the weather had been calm only moments ago, just before the two of your retired into his office. the pot of tea at his side is still warm.
âa bad one,â you turn. your eyes linger on his form and the shadows waltzing on the wall behind him.
his looks up. his lips pressing into a fine line.
Itâs a shame that the light-hearted days are gone.
back then, it wasnât all about saving the world. back then, losing didnât mean the fall of humanity. nothing changes the weight of loss, grief continues to sit within leviâs heart like a cancer, and no matter the stakes, itâs a tumor that will never disappear, but there was a vision within it. the desperation for answers to impossible questions, there was a rhythm to it all. It made sense, and as much as he hated to admit it, the predictability was something he appreciated.
the world has twisted itself into an unforeseeable monster, and he rides its back hoping it wonât shake him off and leave him in the dust. the day he lost his entire team was the first sign that something was comingâthat the good old days were gone. long gone.
how he wishes it were the good old days again.
the first time you kill another person, heâs right there beside you.
he can tell that youâre scared, a fear heâs been familiar with for years, and one he could only hope, try, and then fail to shield you from. heâd never been the type to try and evade weakness, not for himself or anybody else, but for you, heâd pray to whatever god was out there that youâd never know that type of pain. even if pain made you stronger, even if it was what made you the person you were now.
shakey hands grasp at the plackets of his shirt, fumbling with buttons and boutonniĂšres, almost tearing the fabric in the process.
âhey,â he takes your hand in his, pulling them away despite the way you huff. âyou need to calm down.â
your shoulders rise and fall clumsily with the weight of your breaths. youâd been trying so hard to stomach down the guiltâforcing a mask of cold determined stoicism in the hopes of putting your subordinates at ease. turns out, you could handle stone hearted objectivity as well as directing your blades towards another human being.
the grip he has on your hands is so gentle you could crumble. i donât deserve it, comes the thought, and as hard as you try to wipe it away, that voice comes to you as violently as it had long ago. your unable to meet his eyes, scared heâd see the way youâre slipping, and you know all that awaits you is the worry you wish he didnât have to deal with.
âiâm sorry,â you murmur, letting the fabric of his shirt fall from your hands. âiâŠ.im justââ
âthis is so hard, levi. i cantâŠ.â you swallow. âi dont want to keep watching it happen.â he knows what you mean without you having to explain it. he knows that weight on your shoulders, the pit in your stomach, the ache in your bones. he knows it because heâs felt it time and time again.
âiâm so tired,â your head falls against his shoulder. his hand reaches to cup the back of your head, silent as you sniffle against him.
youâre still upset; itâs present in the way you offer no words, just the sound of breathing and soft moans between the two of you.
your skin is hot against his, lips selfish with the need to kiss him again and again. You take what you want and he lets youâgives it all to you.
the undertones of frustration and anger linger in the air, neither directed at either party but still present nonetheless. it was bound to happen, with how shitty the past few days have been. the everyday had managed to leech itself into a moment where it shouldnât have been allowed to, and the thought makes Levi sick.
not here, not now, and never with you.
âslow downâŠ.â he groans when your hips grow to a rather brutal pace.
âtoo much for you?â thereâs a halfheartedness to your voice. your lips brush against his ear and he canât help but groan with it. disregarding the bite to your words, you do listen to him and slow to a steady grind, quelling the burn in your muscles while you sigh with the warmth he brings.
his hands drag from your thigh up to the flesh of your hips, thumbs digging into the divit where your skin creases with soft affection. savoring the moment, he thinks. savoring time, and nights of peace, and you. he drinks in your expressions, the curves and hard lines of your body, the softness of your skin beneath his touch, and the rise and fall of your chest that follows with every breath. his nose traces your throat, shivering as your hand follows up the back of his head and lays pressed against his cheek. âjust want to make this last. donât be a brat.â he murmurs, letting his lips feather across the skin of your jugular. âtake it slow with meâŠâ
you hum in response, and feel the aggression and frustration melt out of you. yes, there wasnât room for any of that. never when it was just the two of you. the rest of the world, and the realities beyond your closed bedroom door falls upon deaf ears as the two of you meld into bliss.
for the first time in so long, you can feel the ache leave, and you invite him to take its place for however long heâll allow.
if he had any say it in, heâd do it for the rest of your lives.
Your name passes through his lips as a breathless whisper, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.
âHold on just a sec, honey.â you press kisses to the sides of his face. âMâalmost there, tooâ
He buries himself into your neck, swallowing down a hiss when you speed up just a bit.
Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him.
âOh, Levi,â Your fingers pull at his hair, âFuck, youâre so good to me.â
His eyes go a bit glossy; a pretty sheen washing over his steel eyes as he lets you overcome his each and every sense. You. You. You. In every crevice of his mind he finds you, and when he pulls himself back into your arms the words come tumbling out.
You trace a soft touch up the nape of his neck, letting your fingers find the soft fuzz of his undercut with a grin. âWhat was that?â
âI love you.â His voice breaks off a bit, feathering into a breathy groan.
âI love you too,â You kiss just below his ear, then press another to his throat, and then finally catch his lips with your own. âso much.â
maybe thatâs what does it; the driving force behind the snapped knot, the crescendo in the pit of his stomach, so sharp and so hard, soothing over his bones with warm sweet nothings. He throws his head back with a broken moan as it washes over him, painting the feeling of your throbbing cunt into memory as he fills you up, so sweet and tight.
a small voice in his head tells him that was a bad idea, that he shouldâve been more careful, but the weight of you in his arms, your soft mouth pressing rosette kisses to his skin forces that voice away.
it takes a minute before he finds his own. âfeel better?â
âyeah,â you breathe, âmuch better.â
