No longer able to handle your feelings for your Captain, you request for a transfer. Levi confronts you about it.
Content: Rated E (18+) · Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Reader is a simp, but so is Levi, First Kisses, Dry Humping, making good use of Levi's meaty thigh lol
Word Count: 2.3k
( CROSSPOSTED TO AO3 )
That day, you hear his boots before you see him. Levi barges in your bedroom, and you know your secret's bust.
"Captain," you stutter at once, looking up at him. He's still in ODM gear, sleeves rolled up to reveal vein-traced forearms. "What are you... why're you here—?"
"You know damn well why."
You don't look at him after that—find that you can't, even if you wanted to. All you can do is stare at his leather boots, how spotless they seem under the amber light of your bedroom.
He moves closer.
You retreat until your back hits your desk.
"Um, Captain," you mumble, "maybe… maybe we should—"
"—maybe you should look at me."
Your breath stalls, caught somewhere between chest and throat, like moths beating wildly against your ribcage, desperate for a source of light.
Slowly, you do as he says.
And when you meet his eyes, you know.
He knows. Levi knows.
Shit.
You’d hoped your transfer request might slip through unnoticed. That, with the chaos of upcoming leave and officers headed to Mitras for winter, your Captain would miss it—that you’d have time to prepare yourself for this.
But here he is, less than an hour later, standing in your room, eyes like sharpened steel.
Already, Levi slams the door using the swing of his foot.
The click of the handle feels like a sentence passed on its own.
"Tell me," he prowls, low and dark, "why did Erwin just tell me a soldier from my squad wants to be transferred?"
Your stomach lurches with shock. You don't remember the last time you heard him this pissed. "I don’t… know."
"Try that again."
You swallow hard. Under the veneer of Levi's anger, there is little room for lies. And yet, lie you must.
"I was slowing the squad down, Sir. I don’t think I’m good enough anymore, so I decided to take myself out of the squad to make way for better talent."
"Bullshit."
Levi emphasizes every syllable of that word. He steps closer; soap and leather hit your senses. A shudder wracks down your spine, a mixture of fear and... desire that feels wrong to decipher right now.
"It’s not an excuse, Captain," you try again, voice smaller now. "I…"
"Where did you fish out those words, a pigpen? You and I both know that’s an excuse, and a shitty one at that. You’ve been outclassing most of the regiment."
You do know it—you pride yourself on being a good Scout, damn it… but transferring to Miche’s squad is the right choice—it won’t derail the trajectory of your career and you’ll finally find peace away from your Captain.
Far, far, far away.
"I’m sorry, Sir," is all you manage.
"You went behind my back," he spits.
"I… I know that, but I…"
"Look at me."
And once again, you don't find the willpower to disobey your Captain.
The sight that awaits you makes you go completely still.
Levi is closer now—too close for your own liking—so much so that the weight of his gaze alone feels like it could strip you down to the bone. He seems to be using this intensity to gauge you, trying to read what hides behind this front you’ve put up.
Don’t look, you wish to say. You will not like what you see.
"Why're you running?" he asks, voice more chastened. "My leadership not meeting your expectations, that it?"
"N-no, Sir." Your throat goes dry. You wish you could vanish on the spot. "That’s not… of course not."
Because despite everything, all the ways your blood burns under his gaze, you find yourself needing to make one thing clear.
"I promise, alright? It’s not you," you say. "It’s… just, well, complicated. I can’t explain it."
"Try."
You close your eyes, unable to bear looking at him, to make sense of your pounding heart. Oh, hell. You wish your Captain hadn’t confronted you in your bedroom of all places—talking about this in the place where you’ve touched yourself thinking of him feels all too… vulnerable. Too intimate.
But how can you convey any of it to him? How can you say that what begun as an innocent crush on him, watching him fly the way he did with his ODM gear—you, wanting to know what it would be like to be admired by someone like him—quickly grew into so much tension that there's days where you can't think straight?
"I just... I can’t do this anymore, a-alright?" you stammer. "Please don’t make me say it."
Your voice cracks. You curse yourself.
"You know why," you whisper hoarsely. "You must know why. I think I’ve made a fool of myself enough times to make it obvious, so please, approve my transfer. Let me go. It’s the right thing to do."
Before you can say anything else more foolish, you turn away. You focus on the window, crusted with snow outside, on your discarded transfer drafts on your desk, on the cobwebs in the corner of your bedroom. Anything but the man behind you.
For a long, unbearable stretch, silence reigns supreme. No movement, no words. Only your beating heart and nausea churning deep in your belly.
You start to believe Levi's left. Hope for it, even.
But then his voice—soft, controlled—changes everything.
"And did you ever consider," he says, "that it goes both ways?"
Your breath falters then.
Slowly, you turn towards him. The look of bewilderment on your face is hard to miss.
Levi doesn’t repeat himself, but the look in his eyes is answer enough to your questioning gaze. There's something... something unguarded in a man who guards everything.
It unnerves you.
"You…. you mean it?" you stammer.
The Captain steps closer, his shadow folding into yours. The light catches on the curve of his jaw, the sheen of his cravat. One of his hands lifts and he brushes a loose thread from the sleeve of your coat. Your breath constricts. The touch is so small it feels almost imagined, yet your skin prickles in its aftermath.
"Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?" he asks.
You shake your head. No, you suppose you have not. Levi is many things, but a man who spins the meaning of his words... he is not.
The room feels smaller with that truth, somehow. Warmer. You can hear the rasp of your own breath, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots. His hand still lingers near your arm, not quite touching anymore, but close enough to make you aware of his presence.
It feels like standing on the edge of something you’ve been circling for months.
Unbearable.
You're the first to reach out. You take his hand into your own, your thumb grazing the center of his palm. The calluses there are roughened with scars and by wear. Humanity's Strongest's, and against your own, the gentlest of things.
It might by why you decide to guide his hand to your cheek. To lay down your feelings and show him a reverence you hadn't expected from yourself.
You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. You listen as Levi’s breath catches.
When you open your eyes gain, you find that his lashes are trembling, his mouth parted slightly at the sight of you. You don’t know who leans in first—maybe you, maybe him—but the distance between you suddenly disappears.
And then, your lips meet.
At first, it’s barely there. A brush, a question. A discovery that he tastes like black tea and something faintly metallic, the scent of ODM gear still clinging to him. His hand rises, hesitant, to the back of your neck, thumb resting at the base of your skull as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
The tenderness is worse than any command he could've given you.
Because there is none of the hardness that you've come to expect from your Captain, none of the urgency that comes from the life of a soldier.
Your breath catches at that realization; your pulse climbs. Your lips answer him then, mouth parting just enough to ask for more, and Levi meets it. Heat, so much heat. All the tension from the last months, contained in this very moment. Your fingers thread against the fabric of his coat, feel the solid heat beneath his shirt, the thud of his heart syncing with yours. Levi's thumbs slot along your ribcage, finding a home along every dip.
It is like this that you feel the restraint leave Levi's shoulders on its own, lets your own dissolve with it. The kiss changes without either of you meaning it to—slow to certain, certain to hungry.
A low groan stutters out of Levi as he feels this too, making your knees weak. His hands skim your waist, pinning you against him.
More, his actions tell you. You arch your back, responding in kind. More.
By the time your back meets the wall, you don’t remember who pushed first.
All you know is that Levi’s hands have somehow ended up on your ass, that his body is leaning into you with a desperation you wouldn't have expected from him. He squeezes, one knee parting your trembling legs, and—oh. You whine, desire swelling on your tongue, heat blooming down to your core.
You're not alone.
Levi's desire, manifested by the hardened bulge in his pants, has made its presence known.
It's sure to drive you mad.
"Captain…"
Levi stills, breath hot caught on your neck.
"Need," your voice trembles, "I need—"
"What d'you need?"
You don’t trust your voice, so you decide to show him.
You shift until your thigh slides against his and you can feel the strength there, the tension coiled in him. You angle your hips ever closer, using his thigh like it was your personal sex pillow, holding onto him for dear life.
"Fuck." Levi freezes, a shudder running through him. "What're you—"
You chuckle meekly as you grind against him. He sucks in a harsh inhale, fingers growing tense, but his hands soon settle at your hips, anchoring you. He helps you find the rhythm, the kind of movement that feels like a question neither of you wants to answer aloud.
You bite back a sound as his thigh presses up again, solid heat through layers of cloth.
"Like that?" Levi grunts.
He's watching you, eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them.
You nod, biting back a whimper.
All at once, Levi's mouth descends on your neck. He lets out a satisfied groan as he runs his hands all over you, greedily discovering every curve of you, every bend. You mewl in response, feeling the friction of his knee against your cunt, the way the length of him presses against your hip.
"Shit," he mutters in between nibbling bites. His thumb skims your lower lip. "You're so—fucking perfect."
And who are you to contest those words? You feel drunk on them, only heightening the pleasure you're currently chasing between your legs.
It all becomes a blur. Levi moves with you, small controlled motions that still feel like losing control. The sound of fabric, the rasp of breath, his quiet curse—all of it winds tighter until you forget where you end and he begins.
"Captain, a-ah... yes. Right. There."
Levi's breath trembles against the shell of your ear, murmuring a panting "Close?" only to drive back into motion when you moan—each of his thrust deliberate, wicked, punishing—making you cry out and claw at his back. He speeds up, heavenly friction on your cunt, the air between you taut with heat.
"F-fuck. Fuck. Fuck," you mutter as you feel your orgasm build. "Levi—"
"Look at me when you come," he says—pleads, it seems.
And you do, white-hot, sagging into pure bliss, your vision blurring as he continues his well-timed movements, guiding your hips against his cock and pushing him over the edge as he lets out a loud groan.
It might be the most satisfying thing you've heard in a long while.
When the tremors finally fade, you’re both still, forehead to forehead, breathing the same thin air that still feels too hot. Your mouth is parched, your knees weak, but there's a smile creeping on your face that threatens to betray just what this has done to you.
At the crossroads, neither of you speaks. Because Levi has claimed a space in your bedroom like he belonged there all along, and you can only admire him in the aftermath. His silver stare. Dark eyelashes. Porcelain skin. So much of Levi's beauty is contained to this space, only for you. A shiver runs down your spine at the realization, a want to have him all over again and take your time with it. The world outside the walls doesn’t seem to exist; even the ticking of your clock grates at you.
Levi is the first to break the silence. His hand finds your jaw, steadying it against his chest. Your breath locks. His thumb drags once across your lower lip and your heart flips.
He pulls back then, looks at you like he’s searching for words he’s never used before, then lets them die unspoken.
Instead, he presses a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth—barely a touch, more promise than possession, like it he was sowing something that might take root and grow with time.
The sight stirs the flutters in your belly anew.
"What now?" you ask, placing a hand above his heart to steady yourself.
Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes seem to soften as he stares, though it's quickly replaced by a tilt of his head, a flare of nostrils that reminds you all too well of your Captain's no-nonsense attitude.
"Now," he drawls, "now, we go deal with that transfer request of yours."
ciel is a great character because he’s a massive bitch and the smallest little tragic baby that’s ever existed. three apples tall and they’re all laced with cyanide
