Work Text:
v. [console] sender is sitting outside on a porch/balcony, crying while it rains and receiver sits down next to them to offer a shoulder to cry on
It’ll get rid of the ghosts, they said.
Levi leans backs on the steps, looking out into the forest.
It’ll get rid of the ghosts, Hange said.
But all he sees are ghosts. They’re in the spaces between the trees, in the moon beam shining down on the earth. He feels them on his skin, the cold, winter wind brushing against his arms. He can feel their presence next to them, can hear the laughter in the billowing of leaves, in the melancholic tune of the wind chime. He can see their smiles in the twinkling midnight stars.
All sees are his fallen comrades.
Hange thought it was a good idea for Levi to have a little getaway, rid of his mind of his skeletons. You’ve been stressed, they said. I can see it in your eyes. Just take a break.
I can’t just leave you here, he replied. But Hange, being Hange, just waved him off.
Levi is sitting on the porch of the quaint abode that’s hidden deep within the forest. Without the good work of his fallen comrades, he wouldn’t be here today, sitting peacefully, listening to the faint rumble of a thunderstorm in the distance. Without everyone’s sacrifice, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of spending time out in such a place like this, deep in the woods.
It was rich, Hange saying that. He thinks to himself that Hange should’ve been out here instead, but since they’ve taken the mantle of Commander, it was impossible for them to step away. But he could see it in their eyes as well—can see the ghosts in them.
Take her with you, they’d said. She’s good for you.
Yeah, they were right. But he couldn’t sleep. He just needs a second. The tossing and turning from you was so loud in that room, despite you being a quiet sleeper. Everything had felt too loud in that house. The slow groan of the door as he pulled it. The creaking of the floorboards as he made his way outside. The banging of the wooden door as he shut it closed.
He is not used to the calm.
A second turns into a minute turns into thirty. He’s outside long enough that the rain drizzles, then pours. He doesn’t care that he’s wet and soaked.
He wonders briefly how lively this house would’ve been if the circumstances were different. If everyone had survived. If there were no titans. If the titans weren’t humans. If the world wasn’t hostile against them.
Erwin would’ve brought in wood he chopped for the fire. His own squad would’ve bickered over who gets to cook. Miche and Nanaba would’ve looked for and debated over liquor. Moblit would’ve been scolding Hange for trying to fix a broken part in the home.
He hears the door open slowly behind him. Another ghost, maybe, but then it materializes in your voice.
“What are you doing?” you ask. Sleep is in your voice. “It’s raining.”
He hears your laugh in his dream. And he hears his also, and can see him fight off a blush as you wrap your arms around him, chin on his shoulder, looking out to the joyous sounds of friends in the kitchen, eating and conversing. All of them, laughing and smiling. Alive.
In another world.
“Come inside before you catch a cold,” you say.
Levi blinks away his dream. He’s going to reply until he feels a tear slip pass his lip. He didn’t notice that he’s crying. It’s mixed in with the rain sliding down his face, but it’s salty.
You hear him sniffle. “Baby,” you sigh, and he hears the soft pitter patter of your steps coming to him.
You sit next to him. You are so selfless in your love. You did not care about getting wet.
When you take his hand, and weave your fingers through his, he feels the warmth of your light, of your love, transferring from your skin to his, enveloping his cold body.
It’s grounding. He’s here, with you, in this moment.
You make it so easy for him to feel vulnerable, for him to feel human; you make it so easy for him to let down all of his walls. He doesn’t know how you do that. Years later and it never changes.
It’s instinct that he lets his head fall on your shoulder, that he cuddles next to you. The both of you are silently holding hands, looking out into the forest. And the feelings pour out of him so easily when he’s with you. He cries on your shirt.
You say nothing. He appreciates that, that you give him the space and time he needs.
“I love you,” is the only thing you say when he grips on to your hand tightly.
“I know,” he replies. Levi sniffles and you turn to him to swipe his black bangs out of his face. “Thank you.”
Thank you for being you. Thank you for being here with me. Thank you for making me feel safe. Thank you for not making me feel alone with my ghosts.
It’s all the things he wants to say, but he knows that you know. A pang of guilt eats at him as he stares into you, as he brings a hand up to move hair from your face as well. He knows you can’t sleep well without him. He can’t sleep well without you either. But sometimes the ghosts are too loud in his damned head that he wants to get away.
Levi doesn’t want to bring you down, either. But many conversations and moons and fights ago prove that you want to hear all of his problems, all of his skeletons. You’ve told him, screamed at him, countless times that you want to be in his head. That you’re so open and honest with him that you deserve the same. You want to fight to be in his space too.
He loves you. No one ever fought for him to be in their life. But you did.
“What were you thinking about?” you ask softly.
Levi brings the hand that was swiping your hair to brush against your lips with his thumb. You’re so beautiful, and so, so warm. It melts him.
In your presence, skeletons and ghosts become a memory. He focuses on you like you’re a beacon of light.
Your lips part, and his hand touches your face lazily. Gentle touches.
“Just how loud this house would’ve been if everyone was here,” he replies.
You’re more awake now, face warm. “Moblit would’ve yelled at Hange not to fix the damn sink,” you say with a small smile on your face.
“I thought the same,” he says.
When you shiver, he frowns. “You’re cold.”
“Obviously,” you say but there’s no hint of malice in your words. “I thought you still wanted to be out here.”
“You’d wait in the rain for me like this?”
“You know I would.”
Levi bites back a smile. Yeah, he knows you would. The both of you stand up. “Let’s get dried off,” he says, holding your hand and leading you back in the cabin.
When you close the door behind him, you laugh. He turns around and watches you cross your arms over yourself to take off your shirt. It’s a scene he’s familiar with, and with that action alone, he feels warm all over.
“We’re soaked,” you say, a grin on your face. You go to unclasp your bra, but he stops you.
“Let me,” he murmurs and he can feel the heat radiating off you.
The living room that you both are in is dim in lighting, the small candle that’s on the table next to the door illuminating just barely, but enough to see the shadows dance on the walls. It burns, like how he burns, as he unclasps your bra.
It falls to the floor, already forming a puddle with your shirt, and he sees how your skin pebbles from the cold. You’re silent, watching, as he brings his hand up to cup your breast, a slow dance. His thumb grazes over your nipple, already stiff from the temperature outside.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, slowly caressing your skin.
He then, ever so softly, brings your breast to his mouth.
You gasp and arch your back for him, hand flying to the back of his wet head. His tongue flicks over your nipple, a tease. “Levi,” you breathe, and when he bites down on it gently, you hiss and try to tug him away. Your nipple leaves his mouth with a pop.
“C’mon,” you tell him, grabbing his shirt.
Levi understands. He undresses, and as he pulls the shirt over his head, he watches you pull down your pajama pants. His pants stick to his skin, and it takes a bit for him to wiggle himself out of it while you step out of your panties.
For a moment, the two of you are still, shivering and staring at each other without a word. Surveying each other’s bodies.
Then, he grabs your face and kisses you earnestly. He kisses you as if to make sure you’re still here, held in his hands. You’re not going away. The fire crackles from the fireplace as his tongue enters your mouth, as both of your tongues dance in a slow and languid rhythm.
You moan gently, arms wrapped around his neck. He pulls away reluctantly and lays his head on the crook of your neck. You smell like rain, he thinks. Rain and warmth and safety. He breathes you in deep, as if solidifying this moment that you’re real.
“I’m here,” you murmur. You always know what he’s thinking about, and he appreciates that in you. “I’m right here.”
Levi doesn’t speak. He just nods into the crook of your neck, and your hands are gently prodding him off you. You cup his cheeks, thumb brushing the stray tear that managed to leave his eyes.
Your eyes are so beautiful. You are so beautiful.
He’s so in love with you.
You smile, understanding that glossy look of his. “Let’s go back to bed,” you say quietly and tenderly. “It’s warm there.”
He nods, and lets you lead him back to your bedroom. The rug beneath his feet is warm and soft as he walks through the room with you, your hand in his. When he lies beside you in bed, his chest isn’t filled with lust. It’s something heavier yet tender—the feeling of being known, really known.
“We can go slow, if you want,” you murmur into his cheek. “Or we can cuddle like this. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
He closes his eyes as he feels your soft lips peppering kisses down from his cheek to his jawline. “I never pretend with you,” he says quietly. “Never with you.”
You smile against his skin and pull away to look at him. “Then let me take care of you tonight,” you say.
The both of you lean in and he kisses but not with passion or heat, but with longing. Reverent, like he’s saying a prayer with his lips and tongue. His hands cup your cheeks as your tongues meet once more. A silent sigh leaves his lips when you finally pull away, a string of saliva connecting you both.
You smile almost mischievously, a barely-there smile, as you kiss down his chest. You take your time down, down, down, and his breathing hitches when you finally grab a hold of him with the gentlest of touches. Your hands are so soft and warm and he lets himself relax, closing his eyes and laying his head down on the pillows.
Levi gasps softly as he feels you take him in your warm mouth. You love him so diligently, lips on the side of him, tongue dancing on his skin, cheeks hollowed. He spreads his legs even wider to make you feel more comfortable between them and you adjust, then get back to him.
He groans and with your other hand, reach out for him to touch his. He clasps his hand with yours as you take him in deeper, as he hits the back of your throat. His other hand reaches for your head and softly caresses your hair, slowly.
You feel warm between your legs, an ache that wants to be filled by him. You kiss and suck him gently, lifting your head so you can watch him as he bites his lower lip, as he pants quietly. His hips twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth—you know he doesn’t want to break the softness between you.
You pull away, lips and mouth aching, and place him on your cheek as you say, “It’s okay. To be rough if you want to.”
He pants and looks down at you, his hand running through your hair. “No,” he murmurs. “You don’t deserve that.”
You shake your head and smile at him, taking him back in your mouth. Your eyes flutter close as you take your time, slowly, more deliberately, feeling him pulse on your tongue. Levi shudders above you, his hand in your hair tightening just a second, almost grounding himself. You feel the tension in his muscles; he wants to so badly let go.
You hum around him and spit on him, and those sounds undo him. His eyes squeezes shut as he exhales a deep, shaky breath, his other hand reaching for you again, to which you gladly hold. It anchors him.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps as you take him in deeper, his hips slightly stuttering to meet you halfway.
Let go, you want to tell him, but he does so anyway. Warmth fills your mouth completely and you drink him in as if he’s your lifeline. He gasps and eases his hand in yours, lifting his head to stare down at you with gentleness that makes you blush.
“Come here,” he says, his voice slightly husky. You do as he says and cuddle next to him, your head on his chest. You can hear his rapid heartbeat start to calm down. His hand reaches for your leg, for your thigh, and he rubs it.
It’s quiet for a bit, just the slight sound of the two of you breathing softly. His hand ventures slowly between your legs and you spread them wider, a very warm invitation waiting for him.
“You’re so wet,” he breathes out and you nod, feeling your eyes gloss over in love as he moves comfortably on top of you. “Did I make you this wet?”
“Yes,” you say quietly, and he parts your thighs even wider to reveal your warmth.
“I’m so lucky,” he says reverently, a quiet hum on the edge of his voice. “To have someone as beautiful as you.”
“Levi…” Your face warms and you look down as he rests his head between your thighs. And your head falls to the pillows as he drinks you in.
He has never felt more in place than between your legs. It’s here, in this moment, where he’s not just the Captain. Not humanity’s strongest, not a man broken by grief and loss and war. He’s just Levi, and he loves you for making him feel this way.
Your moans are soft and your hands are in his hair as he suckles and sucks your inner lips. His tongue dances on your clit, and eventually, his fingers enter you ever so slowly. Time loses it’s meaning to you as you feel him spit on you, as he makes it messy to give you the most pleasure.
He hums into you, his two fingers a nice stretch inside you. You feel that familiar warmth boil in your abdomen, as your skin pimples, as that warmth reaches to your chest and neck.
He knows when you’re close, and doesn’t let up for a second. Your voice finally keens over and you feel yourself come undone, and he laps it up quietly, with soft assurances of ‘Yes, that’s my good girl,’ and ‘You’re so beautiful like this.’
You pant and have an arm over your face, and he reaches to your level to move it from your face to kiss you.
This kiss is full of love and heat, teeth nibbling and pulling slightly. He hovers over you like this, holding you in his arms with one hand and the other grabbing himself to finally enter you.
The world stills. There’s nothing but the feeling of your bodies intertwined, the storm outside, and the fire’s steady crackle from the other room.
You gasp and arch your back, a moan stuttering on your lips, his own mouth ghosting over yours.
“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips. “That’s it.”
His gray eyes are glossy and full of love and lust as he looks down at you. He starts to move, gently at first, pulling out and then pushing himself back in, and your body takes him in. You spread your legs until they eventually wrap around his waist, until his thrusts are deeper and slower. Lovingly. Each motion is a reassurance of the aching joy and love he feels when he is with you.
“I…” you moan, your arms wrapped around his neck. “…was supposed to take care of you.”
He huffs and relaxes his head against the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there, and he pushes in deep. You breathe out a soft moan and he softly smiles against your neck. “Supposed to take care of each other,” is all he says.
Your chest blossoms out with love and adoration for him. Your fingers trail up into his hair as he holds you so close. His skin is warm against yours, his breath brushing against your neck. The rhythm he finds is unhurried and deep.
You tilt your head back slightly, exposing your throat to him, and he kisses there too. His name falls from your lips like a prayer. His hands finds yours again, lacing them above your head. His gray eyes catch in the low candlelight in the room.
More soft kisses on your skin as he moves steadily. The intimacy is overwhelming in the best way. Safe. He brushes his nose against yours before kissing you again.
You can feel his love for you and in the things he wants to say to you in the way he holds you.
When the both of you come undone, when the both of you are panting and cuddling up against each other, he tells you in the low light of the room, “When this is all over, stay.” His voice is slightly rough and low from what you’ve done and from his own emotions.
The rain outside hits the pane of the window. The fire crackles from the fireplace in the other room. The candlelight flickers gently, casting golden shadows across the walls, but all you can see is him. His face, so close, eyes searching for yours like he’s afraid of your answer.
You reach up to trace his jaw with your fingers, etching him into your memory. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch as if it grounds him.
“I will,” you breathe and he inhales. “I promise.”