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Between You and I, P:2, (Baby daddy! Levi x OC!)

P: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Notes: Levi Ackerman X OC. Modern AU. Dad Levi. Ex Boyfriend Levi. Territorial Levi. Second chance romance. Guy falls first. Slight deviations with some cannon characters. Dual timelines.

Synopsis: This chapter traces the simmering tension between Amelia and Levi in the present day, revealing their unresolved feelings and magnetic pull toward each other despite their complications. Meanwhile, Amelia prepares for a once and a lifetime opportunity. Then, through Levi we flash back to the charged beginnings of their connection in high school, where their rivalry in their American history class, paired with an undeniable chemistry, laid the foundation for everything that follows.

Content Warnings: Mature language.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After that awkward, unwelcome encounter, Mark had scurried off in a flurry of mumbled excuses and defensive posturing. Understandable, all things considered. He’d walked into something bigger than he was ready for, and Amelia didn’t have the patience or energy to explain.

Afterwards, she walked back to the café alongside Levi, Lilly perched cheerfully on his shoulders.

“Go forth, mighty steed! Your princess commands you to charge bravely into battle!”

Levi didn’t react. Not outwardly. Just kept walking, boots hitting pavement in that steady, no-nonsense rhythm.

“What’d your brat just call me?” he asked, flat as ever, eyes flicking sideways.

Amelia didn’t miss a beat. “Just mine? Bold claim. She’s basically your clone.”

“Tch. Acts like you.”

She huffed. “Because I’m constantly riding people while screaming, obviously.”

Levi glanced at her—one of those looks. Slow. Knowing. Like she walked into a setup and he’d only just decided to let her realize it.

She didn’t give him the satisfaction. “I’d kick you if you weren’t holding my daughter.”

Right then, Lilly squirmed. A little too much weight tilting to one side. Levi caught her legs in a blink. Amelia’s hand shot out, palm to Lilly’s back. No hesitation. No thinking. Just instinct.

The kid barely noticed.

“She’s gonna snap my damn neck,” Levi muttered, adjusting her up an inch.

“Careful,” Amelia said, not quite smiling. “She’ll make you pay a dollar for that one.”

“She’s still on about the swear jar?”

“She’s building a kitten fund.”

A grunt. Half amused, half resigned. The sidewalk stretched quiet after that, broken only by Lilly’s soft humming above them.

By the time they hit the café steps, the sun was gone behind the buildings, throwing long shadows. Levi crouched, set Lilly down. She took off without looking back.

“I’m gonna go color!”

“Crayons only, Lil! No paint!” Amelia called. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind the girl.

Then just the two of them. The city soft and muted around the edges.

Levi didn’t speak right away. He almost didn’t.

“So,” he said finally, voice low. “You wanna tell me who that guy was?”

Amelia didn’t look at him right away. “Mark?”

A shrug. “Sure. Mark.”

She blew out a breath, slow and tired, more at herself than at him. “We went on one date. It was a trainwreck. He talked about cryptocurrency and crossfit for an hour straight.”

Levi’s expression didn’t change. But he was watching her. Not just listening—watching.

“So… same old, same old?”

She turned, eyes narrowing just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave her a look that didn’t bother softening. “Tch. You know what it means, Mils.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t push back. Just stared off past him, jaw tight.

It was always like this. Almost something. Always not.

Her dates were never a threat. Not really. She never picked anyone she could actually fall for. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not. Levi didn’t ask. Not directly.

She broke the silence with the usual escape route.

“You coming in?” she asked, already halfway up the first step, her hand brushing the railing like it might hold her steady.

“Yeah,” he said, after a second. “Figured I’d check out that leaky pipe.”

She glanced down at him. “I told you I’d call a plumber.”

He gave her a look. “Tch. Did you?”

“…No.”

Another silence. Familiar. Laced with everything they never say.

He followed her inside.

Later that night, the soft hum of Amelia’s dishwasher was the only other noise in the apartment aside from the occasional clink of metal beneath the sink. Levi had stripped off his suit jacket not long after dinner, draping it over the back of one of the dining room chairs. Despite being knee-deep in plumbing work, his button-up and charcoal slacks remained impressively pristine which was almost absurd considering the cramped space he’d wedged himself into to fix the leak.

He adjusted the wrench with quiet precision, barely flinching at the occasional groan of the old pipes. The only real disruption was a five-year-old girl in a tutu, plastic fairy wings strapped to her back, crouched beside him with a bug-shaped flashlight.

“Alright, brat,” Levi said, nodding toward a joint near the U-bend. “Shine it right there.”

Lilly squinted, trying to mimic his serious tone. “You got it, boss,” she replied, lowering her voice like a cartoon detective. The light wobbled a little in her tiny hand before she corrected it. “Is it super broken, Daddy?”

“No.” Levi didn’t look up, eyes squinted in focus. “Just leaking.”

Lilly nodded solemnly. “Water’s sneaky. Sometimes it drips real quiet so it can surprise you later.”

Incomprehensible five year old babble.

“Tch.” Levi smirked faintly. “Yeah. Sneaky.”

In the living room, Amelia moved in practiced loops—laundry basket on one hip, phone on speaker, a clean dishtowel slung over her shoulder. She bent to collect a stray sock, half-listening as Petra’s voice crackled on the other end.

“Yeah, I’ll stock up before Friday. And I told Luis about the milk orders. You don’t need to worry about the café.”

“I know,” Amelia said, setting the basket down and folding as she talked. “I just don’t want you swamped. The espresso machine’s being temperamental again, and—”

“Amelia. It’s fine. I’ve got it.” Petra’s voice was patient, firm. “You’re allowed to want this!”

“I know. It’s just… I haven’t really been away from the cafe. Not since he passed.” She takes a deep breath, “It feels weird.”

“Well, ‘weird’ doesn’t always mean bad,” Petra said. “Sometimes it just means ‘new.’”

“Right.” Amelia folded a pair of tiny leggings, paused, then said, “Honestly, when I opened my mouth at that PTA meeting, I didn’t think it’d turn into… This.”

“You mean when you organized half the parents into strike against the new standardized testing software?”

Amelia smiled, folding a pair of tiny leggings. “Honestly, it was just a few parents. I didn’t know one of them was Madeline Wright’s cousin.”

Madeline Wright, a promising progressive running for the Virginia Senate. Someone Amelia had admired for a while, this was all basically a dream come true for her.

“It’s your lucky break,” Petra said, tone encouraging.

Amelia paused, smoothing out a tiny pink t-shirt. “Yeah, seriously lucky.”

“Come on! You’re excited. I can tell! You always are when someone mentioned stuff like this. Even before…”

Petra paused, maybe wondering if she hit a sore subject.

“Yeah,” Amelia voice tight as she folds another shirt. “Before...”

Before her grandfather got sick.

Before she said she’d just take a year off until everything was smoothed over.

Before he died, and well, before she saw those two pink lines on that stick.

Suddenly, life happened so fast and her one year break turned into never getting the chance to go back.

Petra filled the silence. “You remember everything from those poli-sci classes anyway. You didn’t need that fancy degree.”

Amelia didn’t answer yet. She adjusted a throw pillow. Something to do with her hands.

“I just… Don’t want to mess it up,” she said finally, almost under her breath.

“You won’t,” Petra said, quiet and certain. “You’ll kill it.”

A pause.

Amelia smiled—small, but real. “Thanks…”

She looked toward the kitchen, where the occasional clink of tools drifted through the quiet.

“Levi’s here, by the way,” she added. “Finally got tired of me putting off fixing that leaky pipe, decided to come do it himself. He’s even letting Lil help him, it’s so funny to watch.”

There was a pause.

“He’s fixing the pipe?” Petra asked, amused. “Isn’t he an accountant?”

“A forensic accountant,” Amelia said, amused despite herself. “He gets that scowl when people call him a regular accountant.”

“Oh, right. So like… a secret agent accountant.”

“Basically,” Amelia said, shaking her head with a half-smile.

“Someone should really study that guy.”

Amelia let out a quiet laugh, stepping just far enough into the kitchen doorway to see Levi hand Lilly another tool like it was standard protocol. Her fairy wings flapped with each flashlight adjustment.

“Trust me,” Amelia said, eyes softening. “I know.”

“Alright,” Petra said on the other end of the line, her tone slipping into that deceptively sweet warning mode. “Big day tomorrow. Try to actually get some sleep tonight, yeah? Or—actually, since your hot, complicated, situationship, secret agent accountant baby daddy is there—maybe get laid first, then sleep. First day jitters are always better after some good di—”

“OKAYBYE,” Amelia blurted, nearly dropping the phone as she smacked it off speaker, face already heating like a stove burner.

She glanced into the kitchen, heart thudding.

Levi hadn’t even looked up. Lilly was humming some off-key tune, waving the flashlight like a wand.

Crisis averted.

…Probably.

She cleared her throat and brought the phone back up to her ear. “Yep. Got it. Sooo much sleep…

Petra cackled. “That’s the spirit.”

“Love you, and thanks again” Amelia said.

“Love you more. See you tomorrow, campaign queen.”

Amelia pocketed the phone, exhaled hard.

Levi, from under the sink, finally spoke. Deadpan. Casual.

“You alright over there?”

Amelia stiffened. “Perfect. Why?”

He just smirked to himself and said, “Thought I heard something about a secret agent.”

Her stomach dropped. Of course he heard it. Of course he did.

Amelia feels her cheeks heat up, she clears her throat and immediately changes the subject, “How’s it coming down there?” she asked, stepping closer, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

“Just about done,” Levi replied without looking up, his tone even, clipped. Typical.

Lilly turned to beam at her, flashlight bobbing with the motion. “I’m being super helpful, Mommy. I held the light the whole time and didn’t even wiggle it!”

Amelia’s smile softened, warmth pooling in her chest. “You did? That’s amazing, baby.“

Lilly puffed up with pride, wings crinkling as she stood a little taller.

“Alright, brat,” Levi said, voice dry but not unkind. “Turn the tap on. Let’s see if we fixed it.”

Lilly scrambled to her feet and grabbed the small wooden step stool that usually lived by the sink. She shoved it into place with both hands, climbed up, and stretched—fingers just barely brushing the faucet. After a few determined tries, she managed to twist the handle.

The faucet ran clean. No drips. No sputters.

“It’s not leakin’!” she declared triumphantly, arms thrown up like a gymnast sticking a landing.

Levi stood, finally stretching his back with a small wince. “Nice work, plumber fairy,” he said. “Now go brush your teeth and get into jammies. I’ll be in soon.”

Lilly bolted past Amelia in a blur of tulle and wings, calling something unintelligible about pajamas with cats on them.

The kitchen went quiet.

Levi rolled his sleeves down slowly, adjusting one cuff, then the other.

“I promised I’d read her a bedtime story tonight,” he said, glancing at Amelia now. “She said it was the ‘deal’ since she helped.

“She’s a real negotiator.” Amelia stepped forward to collect a dish towel from the floor that had been kicked under the dining table.

Levi’s gaze followed her, slower than necessary. Watching, not just looking.

When she straightened and looked up, their eyes met. Just for a second.

There was something there. Something old. Something alive.

He stepped in—unhurried, but close enough that the air between them shifted.

“You tired?”

She blinked, thrown a little by the shift in tone. “Not really. You?”

His eyes lingered a second longer than they should’ve. She felt it.

“Nope.”

“I can make tea,” she offered, already turning toward the stove.

But he caught her wrist gently before she moved too far. His fingers were warm, his grip nothing forceful. Just… intentional.

“You’re always doing something,” he said, voice lower now. “You ever sit still for a second anymore?”

Amelia glanced down at where his hand held her wrist, then back up at him. She swallows, “Not really my thing.”

He didn’t let go. Instead, his thumb moved slightly—barely there, brushing the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped.

“You used to,” he said, quietly.

“A long time ago, maybe,” she replied, trying to sound offhanded. It came out softer.

“Mmm.” He nodded, but didn’t drop her gaze as he lifts his hands and brushes her hair behind her shoulder. “Doesn’t feel like that long ago...”

The space between them was small now. Too small. She could smell the familiar scent of soap and cologne on his skin. Still clean and sharp.

Her fingers twitched, and before she could think twice, she reached and smoothed a wrinkle on his shirt that didn’t actually exist.

He didn’t flinch.

“You sure you’re not tired?” she asked, trying to regain ground.

His lips tugged at one corner. “You trying to get rid of me, Mils?”

“Haven’t gotten that far.”

Another pause. She didn’t pull her hand away. Neither did he.

Levi’s gaze dropped—first to her mouth, then lower, slowly, like he was checking for changes, signs, permission. When he looked back up, his voice was softer but no less steady.

“That so?”

And just as she opened her mouth to say something clever—or at least defensive—his hand slipped from her wrist and settled at her waist, thumb brushing just under the hem of her shirt. Barely there. Warm. Grounding.

She could have moved away. Should have. But instead, her hands slid lightly over his chest, more familiar than they should be, like muscle memory.

His lips ghosted the shell of her ear, voice a fraction darker. “I heard what Petra said.”

Then his other hand rose, threading slowly into her hair. He pulled her in—not rough, just undeniably sure—and rested his forehead against hers.

Their eyes closed. Amelia braced.

“We said last time that this can’t happen again,” she whispered.

His grip in her hair tightened slightly, grounding her in place.

“We did… And the time before that,” he murmured. “And the time before that…”

Their lips hovered—dangerously close, just a tilt away.

“Daaaaddy!” Lilly’s voice called from down the hall, high and bright. “I picked two books!”

Levi’s eyes stayed shut, jaw tightening. His head tilted back the smallest bit, as if the ceiling might offer him patience.

Amelia bit back a laugh, breath catching in her throat. He hadn’t even kissed her and somehow she still felt dizzy. “Go on,” she murmured, not moving.

Levi pulled back slowly, his hand brushing down the length of her side before falling away. “Two books. Guess I’m being extorted.”

“Thank god you’re some big shot secret agent accountant then, huh?” She says with a wink.

Levi paused, just long enough to look over his shoulder. “Damn right,” he said, voice rougher than it should’ve been for something that sounded like a joke.

He walked away slowly, slower than he needed to, her warmth still clinging to his skin like static. That last look she gave him, that smirk…

Two books, he reminded himself. Storytime. Pajamas. Lilly.

He ran a hand over his face, tried to reset, tried to find neutral again. But it was impossible to peel her off his mind once she was in it. The feel of her breath against his lips. The way her fingers had curled into his shirt without even thinking. The way she still looked at him like she hadn’t entirely decided whether she should push him away or pull him under.

The way she had squirmed…

He fucking loved that, always had, ever since they were teenagers…

-*-*-*-*-*-*

American History. Room 207. Cold as hell year-round because the ancient boiler under the chapel couldn’t regulate for shit. The kind of fluorescent lighting that washed everyone out—except Amelia Evans, somehow.

Levi stood in the back, leaning next to Miche’s desk, arms crossed as Miche launched into his usual pre-class drama dump about Nanaba and some argument they’d had in the parking lot.

“She said I don’t listen,” Miche was saying, clearly baffled. “But, like… what was I supposed to be listening to?”

Levi wasn’t listening either.

Because she had just walked in.

Hair still holding a soft wave from the braid she must’ve pulled out earlier. Her uniform was regulation, navy pleated skirt, white button-up, wool-blend cardigan with the crest over her heart. But it didn’t wear like a uniform on her. It looked borrowed. Like she’d been handed someone else’s life and decided to shrug it on anyway.

Her knee socks were slouched low. Shoes old and creased at the toe, rubber soles starting to pull. And Levi was almost positive she didn’t know how pretty she was. Or maybe she did, but she just didn’t care.

And, that was somehow much worse.

A rich girl with a perfect blowout nudged her friend and made a snide comment under her breath.

“Wow, I didn’t know Goodwill had a rent-a-shoe program.”

Amelia heard it. Of course she did.

Amelia paused mid-step. Deadpan. Turned with the laziest kind of venom, and flipped her off with the kind of shit-eating-grin that said she’d been through worse and wasn’t losing sleep over this.

Levi bit the inside of his cheek, hard. Because he remembered that shit-eating-grin.

Flashback. Two weeks earlier. Under the bleachers beside the track. She was already there when he’d ducked beneath the stands with a beer from Miche’s shitty six-pack. He’d cracked a can and offered it, maybe just trying to break the ice. Maybe already intrigued.

She’d snatched it, chugged it like water, and looked him dead in the eye: “Fuck off.”

And meant it.

Levi had walked away feeling like a jackass. Kind of liked it, honestly.

“Dude,” Miche snapped, waving a hand in front of Levi’s face. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.” Levi straightened, brushed it off. Headed for his seat without a glance back—first row, because alphabet gods had a sense of humor. Amelia ‘Evans’, predictably, was just behind Levi ‘Ackerman’, plus one seat over.

The teacher—Mr. Brenner—launched into a half-hearted lecture about progressive reform movements. Something about the early 20th century. The guy could’ve made revolution sound like paint drying.

Amelia looked out the window, chin in her hand, finger idly drawing invisible patterns on her desk.

Brenner must’ve noticed. “Ms. Evans,” he said, jolting her attention back. “Since you look so riveted—why do you think grassroots reform movements in the early 1900s managed to gain more traction than similar efforts today?”

She sat up, blinking, then answered without hesitation. “Because they came from necessity. Working conditions were brutal, labor protections didn’t exist, and voting was a joke. People organized because they had to. Reform meant survival—not curated awareness.”

Levi turned slightly. Just enough to glance over his shoulder.

Then he raised his hand.

Mr. Brenner blinked. “Yes, Mr. Ackerman?”

Levi didn’t look at the teacher. “Isn’t it a little convenient to romanticize the past like that? Desperation still exists. We’ve just gotten better at ignoring it.”

There was a pause.

Amelia’s head tilted.

She raised her hand. “Exactly. They didn’t have the luxury to look away. We do now.”

“But if no one’s listening now,” Levi countered, voice smooth, “then how effective is passion without an audience?” He didn’t actually disagree with her, jsut wanted to see how deep her beliefs actually were. Just wanted to see her squirm when challenged.

She blinked. Then squared her shoulders like she was rolling up invisible sleeves.

“You’re confusing visibility with effectiveness,” she shot back. “Change isn’t always televised.”

Mr. Brenner looked between them, eyebrows raised slightly, like he wasn’t sure whether to encourage the back-and-forth or shut it down.

The corner of Levi’s mouth tugged upward as he leaned back in his seat.

The bell rang, saving Brenner from deciding. Students started rustling papers and stuffing books into bags. “Midterm project,” Brenner called above the noise. “Pairs. Topics must relate to U.S. civic engagement, due three weeks from now. You’ll get time to present.”

“Let’s go, partner,” Miche said, coming up from the back to nudge Levi’s shoulder.

But Levi wasn’t listening.

His gaze was on Amelia—cardigan slipping off her shoulder, headphones half-stuffed into her bag, jaw tight.

He stood. Walked right up to her desk.

“Hey, Mils.”

She looked up, brows lifted in suspicion.

“You wanna be partners?” he asked, voice flat but direct.

Her eyes narrowed like she thought it was a trap. “What..? Why?”

Levi shrugged. “I don’t hate the way you think. And I’d rather not carry someone useless.”

Amelia hesitated. Being the new girl had already left her with fewer choices—and partnering with Levi Ackerman meant a guaranteed good grade. She needed the good grade. But it also meant… Levi Ackerman.

Her jaw tightened. “Fine. But I take this seriously.”

He turned to go, then paused. “You free after school?”

She shook her head. “I ride the bus.”

Levi didn’t miss a beat. “I drive.”

Amelia hesitated for a second too long, like she wasn’t sure if he was serious, but then she gave a single, slow nod. “Alright, after school then.”

Levi nodded back once. Just once. “Cool.”

He turned, walking off before she could change her mind, already reaching into his jacket pocket for his keys.

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💬 3 🔁 2 ❤️ 10 · Between You and I, P:3 · (Modern au, Levi x OC!) P: 1 / 2 / 3 Notes: PT. 3 of my dual timeline double story fic. Levi