#flo writes

[lavenderbradshaw]

Swift September!

Hi! Okay, so I had a little fun thought. If you look at my profile, you'll notice my wicked love for Taylor Swift. 9/10, the things I write are inspired by her lyrics. SO! I thought I'd compile a list of lyrics that I'd love to write to and let y'all pick what you want to see.

I'll do these all throughout September, so please send in stuff! (No, seriously, I’m genuinely desperate)

If there's a lyric here you'd like to see, send it in an ask. If there's a character from Top Gun you'd like to see it with, add that, too! If there’s no character, I will pick, so be warned! If there's a lyric I haven't included (and it's Taylor Swift) please send it! Also, combos are so totally acceptable!

They'd just be pretty short blurbs, quick little scenes. But they all do have the possibility of becoming something someday ;)

-

SMUT

i feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me

you know i'm not a bad girl, but i'd do bad things with you

i said, 'no one has to know what we do', his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

i could see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying 'meet me tonight'

the altar is my hips, even if it's a false god

lord, save me, my drug is my baby

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

'cause all the boys and their expensive cars, the range rovers and their jaguars, never took me quite where you do

ANGST

you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding

losing him was blue like i'd never known

from sprinkler splashes to fire place ashes, i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

you're not gone, you can't be gone, no

she would've been such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head

maybe i was naive, got lost in your eyes and never really had a chance

crawling up the beaches now, 'sir, i think he's bleeding out', and some things you just can't speak about

tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind

is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything, or do you just not want to?

last night i heard my own heart beating, sounded like footsteps on my stairs, six months gone and i'm still reaching, even though i know you're not there

i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want just not home

i pulled your body into mine every god damn night

the idea you had of me, who was she? a never needy, ever lovely jewel, whose shine reflects on you

if our love died young, i can't bear witness

FLUFF

you are the best thing that's ever been mine

there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

i'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man

if you were here, we'd laugh about their vacant stares but for now, my time is theirs

there's a chain 'round your throat, piece of paper where i wrote 'i'll wait for you'

i once believed love would be black and white, but it's golden

i'm so thankful for all of the girls you loved before, but i love you more

MISC

**anything from this category might need a little more vision from the requester**

i can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips, if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing

how's one to know, i'd meet you where the spirit meets the bone

all the liars are calling me one, nobody's heard from me for months

#swift september #flo's swift september #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun iceman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw #flo writes

[littlerequiem]

— midnight ventures ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader (18+ MDNI)

You shouldn’t have looked and he shouldn’t have been there. But Fate can have a funny sense of humor. The punchline that night? Stumbling onto your naked Captain in a hot spring… and doing something about it.

content — Rated E - Canon universe, Snowed-in, Winter, Hot Springs, Power Dynamics, Smut, Orgasm Delay, Oral (f. receiving), Authority Kink, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Light dom/sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Levi (wc: 11.7k).

Thanks to my BETA @stellar-smth. Written for @sixpennydame following this prompt: "I can't get enough of you."

Crossposted on AO3.

The mountain is a lonely, cruelly cold place.

Up here, everything is covered by planes of white, endless valleys rolling and coming. Icicles cling onto winding branches, while roots are drowned in bitter cold. Even nature seems to be at a complete standstill here.

Getting lost here would be ill-advised.

And yet, here you are, stranded, with the last person you ever expected to be with.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

“That was our last one, sir,” you say as you lower the flare gun, securing it to the harness strapped to your wool jacket. Gray smoke, usually reserved to warn of the presence of abnormals, now towers above you. It was a last hope to signal someone to your location and unfortunately, no answer has come.

You are, in every sense of the word, lost.

"You grew up around here, didn't you?" comes Levi's voice, that his gravelly and magnetic tone that always makes you instantly zero-in on him. "Any of this look familiar?”

You meet his impassive stare, and you try to ignore the familiar flutters forming in the pit of your stomach.

“I did. But I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recognize these parts,” you answer evenly, glancing at the footprints in the snow. “Everything looks the same to me.”

“I see.”

You rub your hands over your covered arms, trying to create your own means of warmth. "My father used to say these mountains were a death trap come winter. I suppose there was some truth to his words.”

“A death trap.” Levi clicks his tongue. “A novelty in our lives, I’m sure.”

Your chuckle beneath your breath.  

Somewhere to the north of here is a military outpost, the destination of your supply round. Unfortunately, as things stand now, you won't reach it on time. Perhaps if you had ODM gear or horses, you might have already reached it. But winter in the mountains renders both useless: the hooks don't secure properly because of the ice, and horses aren't trained to navigate such terrains.

Hence, you are doing everything by foot. 

“It's going to be dark soon,” Levi points out in a monotone voice, as if this situation wasn’t a matter of life-and-death.

You stare at the darkening clouds over the horizon. "Yeah."

Levi kicks some snow with his boot, white particles clouding the air. “Let’s head back down, I saw a cabin on our way up.”

“Yes, sir.”

With his directives now laid out, you begin the walk down. Levi sets the pace, keeping a diligent speed that ensures your bodies stay warm and your minds stay sharp. For a while, that’s all there is to it. Nothing but the crunching of footsteps in snow and the wind howling across white nothing.

The silence gives you a moment to yourself, one where you're able to take in your surroundings, including the sight of your Captain next to you.  

Like you, Levi’s appearance is marked by the cold. His eyes, red-rimmed; eyelashes, glistening white; his cheeks, flushed with a rosy hue; his hair, flowing and ebbing midnight. 

It suits him, this look. All dressed in white, he looks beautiful.

Not exactly a surprise, you suppose. Your Captain could wear a rag and still look good.

It’s an objective, albeit unfortunate, truth. Your Captain is beautiful, magnetic, striking… and you happen to have a big, fat crush on him.

It’s not like it's a secret. You think everyone in the Corps knows at this point. The brats from the 104th love to tease you about it. So does Commander Hange, for that matter—somehow, you think it is no coincidence the two of you ended up paired for this mission.

Meddlers, they all are.

"Oi, focus on the road," Levi grumbles. 

Your cheeks warm, feeling like your Captain caught you red handed with your daydreams, even if you know that, objectively speaking, there's no way he did (Levi is many things, but a mind reader isn't one of them. Thank the Walls for that.) 

Despite knowing that, you can't help but stammer, "S-sir?" 

"You're not focused on the road. You're going to slip and hurt yourself." 

And he's right, of course. It is slippery. Dangerous, even.

But how exactly does your Captain even know you aren't focused on the path? He's not looking your way.

(Over the year, you've learned this hard truth: Levi always knows, somehow.)  

A snow storm has picked up by the time the cabin comes into view. Relief expands in your chest; you were just starting to lose the feeling of your toes.

The shelter appears to be deserted. Out of courtesy, you knock several times, checking the perimeters for signs of life, but when it’s clear no one is inside, your Captain decides that survival precedes politeness.

He surprises you with a new skill: opening locked doors.

“Dare I ask when you learned to pick locks, s-sir?” you stutter as he uses the tools from his bag. His movements are nimble and practiced, like a well-oiled machine. “S-secret skill from the Underground?”

From his crouched position, your Captain shoots you a blank look. “You may not ask.”

With a click, the door swings open.

You enter, raising your oil lamp to illuminate the inside. A half-decorated living room with a dining table, a sofa, and a fireplace. There are additional rooms to the back.

"Nobody’s lived here for months,” you comment, sniveling.

“They intended to come back.” He bobs his head to the right. "There's fresh wood and supplies over there."

You hum in agreement, teeth chattering. “It’s-s common enough for folks beneath the mountains to have a second house up here. Maybe they plan on coming up come s-summer.”

Levi grunts out a sound, presumably not caring too much as to why the house is well-equipped, but glad that it is all the same. Either way, you're clearly trespassing on someone's property, and you hope that whoever this house belongs to won't mind soldiers occupying it for one night.

Knowing the Captain, they'll probably find it in a cleaner state than the one they left it in, anyway.

But before that, your Captain seems to have other plans. 

“Before we do anything else, we need to take care of you,” he declares.

Your Captain’s gray eyes then narrow onto you, roving up and down. His attention makes you straighten in place, feeling uneasy to be in his spotlight. Levi closes the door with a swing of a leg. His stare never strays from his thorough inspection.

A shiver licks your spine. “S-sir?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf. Strip, now.”

Your stomach stupidly flips at Levi’s orders. 

"You need to change into something dry," he adds in a rueful tone.  

You chuckle nervously while your brain goes into overdrive. 

... Shit. 

This is going to be a long night, isn't it?

Trying to push aside all the ways you feel overwhelmed by Levi's presence (you are, after all, fucking cold), you begin to remove your ice-coated gloves. This, however, proves to be an exceptionally painful endeavor—you suck in a breath when you realize you can't completely bend your fingers. Oh, no. Why can’t you bend your fingers?

“Damn it, you’re like an icicle,” comes Levi’s sharp voice behind you. Before you can make sense of anything, you feel your Captain by your right side, seizing your hands to inspect them. 

You wince.

Levi is right, of course. Your fingers feel as though they are frozen, though you know they’re not. You can still move them, just painfully.

Still, you’re not exactly feeling peachy right now. You’re visibly trembling and your balance is growing more wobbly. And why is your vision so hazy?

“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?” Levi scolds. He shrugs off his own gloves and scatters them to the floor. He grabs your hands into his own, rubbing to create friction.

You stare, watching his slender fingers—rough and calloused and yet, so gentle—encompass your own. It’s the first time he touches you like this, and even if there’s nothing romantic about the gesture, your heart somersaults all the same.

(Stress and romantic attraction cause such similar reactions, you note in passing.) 

“I’m s-sorry, sir. I really didn’t realize I was feeling so cold,” you say. 

“Do you have something dry to change into?"

You nod.

“Good. Go change while I get the fireplace going,” he tells you.

You do just that. 

While Levi works on the chimney, you discover that the rest of the house consists of two bedrooms and a lavatory. You don’t waste time inspecting them; you quickly lock yourself in a room. The first layer to go is your coat, but everything else is eventually removed. You change into dry pants and a sweater retrieved from your bag. Then you lay out your belongings, as well as Levi’s scattered coat and gloves, on wooden chairs, placing them near the starting fire, hoping (praying) that they dry by tomorrow morning.

Levi’s just finished throwing several logs into the fire. He stands up to meet you, looking at you through a half-lidded stare.

Unlike you, your Captain's clothing is relatively dry; only his gray shirt sports wet patches, the fabric clinging to his chest. You try not to stare at his well-defined muscles for too long.

(Even if you really, really, really wish you could.) 

The beginning of crackling amber hovers on one side of Levi’s face, creating sunken shadows on the opposite side.

“Looks like cleaning will need to wait. You’re trembling like a drowned rat,” he says.

You conceal a smile. “L-like the ones in the Underground, s-sir?”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.” His eyes narrow to slithers. “Just… sit your ass down on the sofa. I’ll find blankets and make tea.” You stare at him blankly, which he seems to take as some kind of signal to press the urgency in his tone. “Fucking stay awake, got it?” 

You give him a confused look, but soon catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows. Ah. You're not looking so well—your lips are chapped, and there's shadows plaguing your eyes.

Levi finds several blankets in a wardrobe. With your help, he moves the sofa from one side of the room to the next, positioning it right in front of the fire. Levi forces you to sit (“But sir, I can—” “Stop arguing and sit the fuck down.”), and soon, he layers covers over your shoulders.

The sofa shifts under his weight as he sits next to you.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod, still groggy. You're still cold, but the tea is helping a little.

Still, you should really try to warm up now. You attempt to take a sip of your drink, but in your excitement, you forget the fact that fresh tea tends to be, in fact, piping hot.

It trickles down to a burning sensation down your throat. “Pah, I think I just burned my tongue.”

“Now I'm starting to think you take pleasure in inflicting pain on yourself.”

“N-no." You gulp nervously. "I just didn’t notice the tea was so hot.”

“It's tea."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm still not thinking straight. It's just s-still so cold in here.”

You do your best to hug the cup of tea with both hands, still audibly shivering, while snuggling into the blankets Levi threw over you. In front of you, the hearth continues to warm, staining the room with a glow that's oddly comforting. 

A log splinters.

Then, Levi’s voice barrels through: “Hand over the tea.”

You turn towards him.

Your Captain is fixing you with a severe frown. Without questioning his orders, you hand him the drink. You think he might add some lukewarm water to it to make it drinkable, but to your surprise, he places both cups on the cold floor close to the edge of the sofa.

A confused look draws on your face.

What now?

“Fucking come here already,” your Captain orders.

And he gestures with two fingers in his direction.

That’s when you realize what Levi’s offering. He’s… beckoning you closer.

He wants to warm you up.

You gape at him.

This isn't happening. Is it? 

But apparently not interested in watching you mull this over, Levi doesn’t leave you time to consider his proposal. He yanks on the blankets draped over your shoulders, reeling you close. You heave as the back of your skull collides with his collarbone, and you readjust against the crook of his neck.

“S’ just for a moment,” he mumbles under his breath, arms settling by your side.

And who are you to contest that? He's your Captain, you can hardly disobey him (well, you know you could disobey this particular order, but it's too late for that now).

So you let him tuck you close, and you discover that Levi is warm, and you think how nice that feels after hours of walking in cold weather. In fact, Levi’s body rather reminds you of a furnace right now, burning at its strongest in winter. His embrace creates a little cocoon of body heat just for you; soon, all you can smell is him, the scent of tea leaves and cotton enveloping you into a lovely state of serenity. 

(You always did love Levi's scent.)

With enough elements grounding you, you let your head roll back, pressing against his right shoulder blade, trying to ignore his steel muscles (that you can, admittedly, finally feel to some degree—and they are just as hard as you always imagined they would be).

“Fuck, you’re freezing.” Your Captain’s voice rumbles against your back, presumably feeling the cold sting of your cheek as you nestle closer.

In response, Levi’s hands slot over your forearms, something careful and hesitant about his touch. You hold your breath, feeling his fingers spread against your sweater. There, he begins to rub up and down, repeated motions that create tiny tingles down their path.

The added friction renders you speechless.

It was one thing to be so close to him before; now, your Captain is essentially stroking you. His attempts to create warmth spread like wildfire, and in an absence of coherent thoughts, you let the fire consume you.

Soon, even the fireplace growing in size doesn’t seem to phase you. It licks the cold air, spreading from all sides, but it is nothing compared to the burning sensations simmering across your neck, your cheeks, and down to your core. It’s like Levi’s touch is commanding it everywhere, this warmth, leaving you flustered and confused.

Then Levi’s fingers make contact with your bare wrist, and you jolt.

Because unlike the rest of his body, his hands are freezing.

“What… Captain! Your hands are—w-wha—” You let your voice trail, heart plummeting in your chest, when you come to a realization, a realization that makes you a little frustrated. “Hey! You were cold all along as well!”

A clicking sound resonates against the shell of your ear. “Stop yapping.”

You try to move to face him, but Levi grabs your wrists with an iron grip, keeping you locked against the expanse of his chest, making his order quite clear.

“Quit squirming and stay put,” he mutters. 

“But, Captain, you gave me all the blankets,” you complain, for once foregoing your respect for him and letting your concern speak volumes instead. A decided frown settled between your brows. “What would I say to Hange if their best soldier died trying to save me?”

“I wasn't going to die."

"But what if you did?"

"Then I’m sure you’d have found a creative way to spin it.”

“You still shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth Humanity’s Strongest.”

“Stop saying stupid shit and focus on staying warm.”

You sigh. Your Captain and his stubborn ways. He was never good at putting his needs on the line, and years of military service haven’t changed this fact.

Still, not finding the energy to argue back, you allow the conversation to die out.

It is only a minute later, as you try to relax back in your position that you notice that Levi’s breath has mellowed out as well. In fact, your Captain’s attempts at creating frictions have slowed in urgency. His pace is now languid; his fingers are wrapped around your shoulders while his thumbs slide up and down, up and down. Slow.

You imagine that the two of you rather look like two people lounging on a sofa after a long day's work.

Like lovers.

“Tea's ready,” comes Levi's husky voice, making you jump in your seat.

You swallow down all the feelings bubbling at the back of your throat—the ones begging and begging to be let out—keeping your face trained ahead.

“R-right. Um, thank you for that, Captain,” you say. "I feel all better now."

Breaking away from his embrace, you try to avoid his burning gaze. You grab both cups, handing him one without sparring him a glance.

Instead, you move to sit at the edge of your seat, far away from your Captain. Between the two of you, the covers bundle together, discarded.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

You stare at your flustered reflection in the tea cup. "Mm?"

“Why the hell does it smell like old eggs in here?”

That takes you right out of it.

You finally look up at Levi, meeting his lidded stare. Old eggs?

“... Sorry?”

“The fucking stench,” he mutters, wrinkling his noise. “It reeks in here.”

And that’s when you realize that Levi is talking about the smell in the air, the scent that’s lingered everywhere since you entered the house, but you were too focused on everything else to notice.

An odor you know well enough.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, “that’s the smell of a hot spring.”

“What?”

You finish your cup of tea in one gulp, now just perfectly warm and drinkable, and place it back on the floor. “I think this house might have one.”

You swiftly get up, darting to the bedroom you changed in earlier.

And sure enough, as you pull the curtains open, you notice a familiar sight. The back gardens of the house, all dusted in white, are painted with steam and water.

A hot spring.

.... And you are, you realize, a complete idiot.

Why didn't you think of this before? You could have simply taken a dip to warm up.

“What’s that?” Levi’s monotone voice comes from behind. He’s close to you, hovering just behind your shoulders, but you do not turn around. You’re certain that if you do, that you will find him bathed by the moonlight and that you won’t be able to form a single coherent sentence.

“A natural body of water, sir. It’s what Commander Hange was talking about in their briefing for this mission. Hot springs are found all over these mountains..." You bite your lower lip. "I didn’t realize we were right next to a hot spring. I could have spared you all the effort in warming me up.”

“No thanks, I’ve no intentions in having us swim around in something that smells so foul,” he grumbles. “Besides, it’s not good to go from two extreme temperatures.”

You hum. “True enough.”

“It smells vile.”

“It’s the sulfur. It’s great for muscle tension.”

“Sounds dubious.”

“I promise, it’s true!”

Forgetting your own advice, you turn around to drive your point home, and you realize that Levi is close—that you could count his eyelashes, if you wanted. But you don’t, because normal soldiers don’t think about counting the eyelashes of their superior.

“W-When I was young," you stammer, "my parents sometimes brought me up to the mountains to swim in them. They’re perfectly safe.”

Levi makes a face. “I’ll pass. But I guess it’s good to know the stench isn’t coming from the house itself.”

You snort.

Levi’s eyes seem to soften, half-lidded as they were. And just as you suspected, the moonlight trickling in really does something to your Captain’s face, bathing in with a silver hue that brings out the blue in his eyes.

Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips, don’t lips…

“Looks like titan steam,” the Captain suddenly comments, looking at the steam fogging the windows beyond your shoulders.

He takes a step back.

You let out a much-needed breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding all along. “Uh-huh. It does.”

You glance back towards the hot spring, noticing that the snowstorm is close to subsiding, a cloak of black draping the sky beyond.

“Well, I suppose we should get to work, now that we’re all warmed up, huh?” you suggest. 

“Yeah. Let's get this dusty-old house spotless.”

That night, you can't fall asleep.

This in itself isn’t a rare occurrence—most Scouts have somewhat questionable sleeping habits. Between the world of titans and watching comrades die, there's plenty of reasons for soldiers to struggle with sleeping.

The problem is, at least tonight, the culprit isn’t insomnia.

It’s… something else.

Something that's lead your thoughts astray.

Maybe it's everything that happened with the Captain earlier, maybe it's the snowy setting that feels oddly romantic, maybe it's the cold that zapped your brain but... you keep on imagining what it’d be like to have Levi next to you, doing indescribable things to you. You imagine him turning on his pillow, taking his time to take in every line of your exposed skin. He’d unravel you with his gaze alone, you’re sure of it. Would he bestow the same intensity he reserves in training? Would his fingers hook around your limbs with the same ferocity? You think they might.

You think—

You groan, cutting your fantasies short. You and your damn fixation on Captain Levi—the one person who couldn’t possibly be less within your reach. This crush of yours must be a cruel joke from Maria, Rose, Sina… maybe all three of them combined.

More importantly, why is it all resurfacing now of all times? It's been fucking years that this one-sided crush of yours has been, just, there. In all this time, you've managed to reign in your emotions.

So why? Why won't your mind stop wandering into dangerous territories? Why can't you shut it down even now?

Whatever the reason may be, you need to find a solution to your... predicament. You suppose you could try to be quiet about it here, to bring yourself the release you desire, but you fear your Captain hearing you, given that he's sleeping in the room next to yours. You can’t imagine being caught in the act of pleasuring yourself.

No.

You need to find somewhere private.

Somewhere like…

Oh. 

The hot springs.

Of course—why didn’t you think about it before?

At once, you shuffle to a seated position in your bed, glancing out of the windows of the bedroom. The weather has cleared up by now, freckles of delicate white weaving through the air. Just beyond it, the hot spring awaits.

Serene. Lovely. Inviting.

Just the kind of spot you've been dreaming of.

Sure, your Captain wasn’t too keen on the smell, but you can wash afterwards.

Yes, this will have to do.

With your grand master-plan now laid out, you quickly spring into action. You gather your belongings: a towel, boots, an oil lamp.

In the main room, the remains of the fireplace are still dim and warm. Levi is occupying the second bedroom, and his door is closed shut—just as you’d hoped. It’s well past midnight, he must be asleep.

You grin to yourself. So far, your plan is a resounding success.

Outside, the air hangs still. The blizzard's fury has long passed, leaving only delicate snowflakes that twirl gracefully through the air. You pause to savor the newfound peace, taking in the picturesque landscape: rolling hills blanketed in pristine white, majestic forests embracing the mountain's gorges.

And the hot springs.

Nestled nearby, the cabin's springs stretch impressively, their shape narrow and serpentine rather than wide. Smooth rocks jut out over the water's edges, with pines and shrubs clinging to them. Together with the rising steam, they weave a misty veil that softens your view of the night.

Shedding your clothes, you quickly step in.

And oh... the initial touch of warm water is everything you'd hoped for and more. It sends a delightful trail of goosebumps trailing across your body.

The hot spring is shallow enough for ease, yet deep enough to envelop you comfortably as you sit. As you wade deeper, the water laps gently just above your chest, soothing the day’s weariness from your muscles. You let out a contented sigh, a particular knot in your spine coming undone.

This is the respite you've craved these past hours, especially after today's strenuous hike. It's a pity, really, that your Captain was so against the hot springs. This might have done him some good.

You venture further in with a smile plastered on your face. The clear waters mirror the starlit sky above, inviting you to explore every tranquil corner of this secluded paradise.

It isn't until you're midway across the hot spring, shoulders dipped beneath the water, that a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you.

Light.

Movement. 

Noise.

With the instincts of a trained Scout, you crouch into the water. Through the shrubs, you suddenly notice a pool of yellow light, too intense and artificial to be anything natural. Strange. It bears the distinct glow of the oil lamps used by the Survey Corps. More troubling still, there's a subtle sound of splashing water.

Your gaze flicks anxiously to where your clothes lie scattered, a distance away. You didn't bring a weapon with you. Should you attempt to go back?

Before you can think further on what to do next, your peripheral catches a glimpse of pale skin.

You freeze.

In the thickening steam, rising like delicate spirals into the chilly air, it’s hard to trust your eyes. This could easily be a hallucination.

But as the figure emerges, shoulders and back surfacing smoothly from the water, the reality sets in sharply.

It's him.

Captain Levi.

The man you’ve had a crush on for as long as you remember.

The man who you were just fantasizing about.

The man who’s currently naked a short distance away from you.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Levi is clearly out for a swim. Apparently unaware of your presence, he pauses at the edge of the spring closest to a hill. He tilts his head back, hand brushing back wet hair. He looks up at the sky, oddly peaceful.

(The altitude is so high that it almost looks like your Captain could touch stars if he wanted to.)

But then your attention is drawn inexorably to the droplets cascading down his bare chest, and the full implications of your predicament crash over you.

Sure, water conceals Levi’s lower body, but his upper body leaves little left to the imagination. The curves of his shoulders, sloping down towards well-sculpted biceps. His chest, marked with scars and lines left by ODM use. His abs, well-defined and toned—a feat you know is only possible due to his diligent training ethic.

Already, warning bells ring in your brain.

What are you doing still standing here? By some miracle, Levi hasn’t noticed you. But with his perceptive senses, it won’t be long before he does.

And when that happens, you’re in trouble. Not only are you naked and gawking, but you also have no real reason to be here.

You could try to tell him you couldn't sleep. If anyone could understand, it might be Levi. The man rarely sleeps.

But you’re not entirely sure your Captain wouldn’t see right through your deception. He's sharp like that.

That can't happen. You can't admit to him the real reason you came out here: to touch yourself while thinking of him.

You need to leave. Now.

Which is why you carefully start to back away, eyes trained on him—praying he doesn't notice you.

Unfortunately, while you miraculously slipped past Levi’s attention the first time around, your luck has run out. His focus shifts, honed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

Then comes his voice, slicing through the quiet of the night. “Who’s there?”

The familiar timbre sends shivers down your spine and tightens the knot between your legs.

Panic sets in.

Desperate, you dive underwater, hoping to blend into the natural shroud provided by the spring.

But Levi isn’t called Humanity’s Strongest for nothing. With instincts sharper than a knife, you see the blurred outline of his pale body trudge through the water at an alarming speed.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Levi’s voice rumbles through the water, but the meaning of his words are drowned by the elements. Your lungs burn as you begin to swim away, the mingling bubbles and steam clouding around you, the sulfuric scent of the spring sharp in your nostrils.

You pump every ounce of strength in your frantic escape.

Then a strong hand clamps around your arm, and you're dragged upwards.

“Oi!”

Instinctively, your hand lashes out, grabbing hold as your body is yanked forward. You gasp, air filling your lungs, the cold biting at your wet skin.

Your eyes round when you realize what your hand has landed on: one of Levi’s biceps.

You glance up, eyes locking with your Captain's surprised face.

A choked sound escapes you.

“What...” He says your first name, a frown settling between his militant brows. There's a lull in the conversation, like he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing, but his barking tone soon replaces it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Moments later, his lips press together in a taut line, and his biting grip tightens. He pushes back so that you're pressed against the edge of the hot spring, where he lets you go.

You land with a splash. 

At once, you attempt to cover yourself using your hands, dipping into the water so that you're almost entirely submerged. Levi looms over you, apparently not feeling discomfort from being naked before you. The water level arrives below his waist, and you can’t help but notice a trail of trimmed black hair that starts just above his navel.

You want to scream.

Your eyes fleet back up. His expression is inscrutable, but his eyes carry an intensity that you've only seen reserved for training sessions.

“You have five seconds to explain yourself,” Levi grumbles, magnetic and sharp. 

“I—” you begin, only to close your mouth again.

You… what? You can’t tell Levi the truth. You would rather drown than admit to your lewd intentions.

But you also have to say something. 

“—I didn’t realize you were in here,” you manage with some difficulty. 

There. That's not a lie, is it? You wouldn't dare to come in here if you knew your Captain would be around.

Unfortunately, your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

“And why aren’t you asleep?” he asks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching the steam envelop Levi’s torso. “I couldn’t sleep, sir.”

“We’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow. You can’t be dead weight because you wanted to go on a midnight stroll.”

You hate this… this feeling that you are letting him down. It’s everything you strive to avoid when it comes to your Captain. You’re proud to be in his squad and you pride yourself on being the best soldier you can be.

“That won't happen, sir. I can carry my weight.” You try to sound resolute, calm and collected. You fear you may be failing. “And Captain… I find it a bit odd that you're saying all of this to me.”

“What?”

Walls. You’re treading dangerous territories.

You clear your throat, waving a hand in the air. “Didn't you say the water was unhygienic? That it reeked? That we should both go to sleep?”

"Get to the point."

"I just assumed..." you mumble, chewing at the inside of your cheeks.

"Oh, I see." Something flashes in his eyes. Torture. "You hoped you could just do as you please, that the curfew rules didn't apply to you. Hate to break off your fantasies, soldier, but that's not going to happen. I'm here and you're caught."

"Well, you also need sleep, so..." you attempt, dipping your chin away from him and into the water. Levi's eyes narrow. You clear your throat. “I’m just speaking out of concern.”

“Then don’t concern yourself.”

You grimace. You're really not doing too well with all of this, are you?

You need to turn the tide, somehow. 

“I apologize, Captain. But I don’t think I’m in the wrong," you try to reason. "My track record speaks for itself: I’ve never faltered, even when running on fumes. You know I haven’t. I couldn’t sleep and this seemed like the best solution to reach that end. I wasn’t planning to stay here all night or to be a burden, sir; I just needed to clear my head before going to bed.”

You look at him again, trying to stand straighter for your words.

Levi's expression doesn't falter.

Then, he lets out a long exhale, half-turning away from you. “Look, I'm not your parent. Do as you please. But don’t come crying to me tomorrow if you're tired. You better be able to keep up. I expect nothing less of you.”

Your Captain must recognize that level-headed attitude he witnessed plenty of times out on expeditions, or he wouldn’t let you go down so easily.

Levi rubs his eyelids with the tips of his fingers. “And next time, pay better attention. There are all manners of perverts in this world. Even if this place seemed abandoned, you can never be too careful. It’s unlike you to be so careless.”

You chuckle nervously. If only Levi realized you’re the only degenerate lurking these waters.

“Right,” you answer. “Lucky it’s just you.”

As you say those words, Levi looks at you—really looks at you—and something shifts in his expression. His eyes move away from your face, casting his stern gaze over the rest of your body, as if seeing you for the first time.

His attention makes your breath stop.

“You should still be careful," he says in a low tone. "Men in the military are still men.”

You swallow loudly, a delicious sensation coiling at the bottom of your stomach. There’s something suggestive in Levi’s words, isn't there? You tell yourself that it’s just him showing his concern and that it means nothing beyond that.

“As I said, lucky it’s just you,” you repeat.

Then, Levi surprises you.

He takes a step forward, cornering you further to the edge of the spring. His stare glints like starlight.

Your heart leaps. What is he doing? Outside of training, Levi never approaches you like this.

You try to keep your cool at the sudden proximity. Knowing that just one peek down, and you’d see what lies between your Captain's legs. You briefly wonder what his cock looks like.

If it’s like the rest of him…

Stop.

You need to focus now—your Captain is speaking to you.

“And who’s saying I’m not the sort of man to take advantage of a situation like this one?”

Your breath hitches, unsure if you heard him correctly. His gray eyes linger on your bare shoulders, fixing it like his stare could pierce through them.

Is he... is he testing you?

Your eyes meet again. His pupils are dilated, yours are wide. 

“I know you,” you hear yourself say, “you’re not that type of man.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Snow continues to dust the air, melting into the warm water surrounding you both. A faint gust of wind wheezes from down the mountain.

“You have that much faith in me, do you?” Levi asks quietly.

Your eyes flit back up. Levi has dipped further down into the water. He looks... pensive, eyes fixing his rippled reflection.

The sight of him so close almost takes the air out of your lungs.

And you’re reminded of how handsome your Captain is.

In all the years you’ve known him, all you could do was admire him from a distance—trying to keep your feelings and attraction for him in check. But Levi has always been beautiful, even when you denied yourself the opportunity to think so.

Deep-set eyes that remind you of muted skies—the occasional spark of blue shining when the sun hits his face just right. A velvety undercut that you know he trims himself every other week, the rest of his shiny hair parted in the middle. Rosy lips that appear permanently pressed together—only you’ve seen it: on the rare occasions that your Captain allows himself a downtime to drink a cup of tea with his squad and friends… yeah, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and the world is graced with one of Levi’s rare smiles. It’s a sight that you’ve kept locked in your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do.”

Levi's eyes come smoldering back onto you. “Speak up.”

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Captain Levi.”

It's true.

You first agreed to join Levi’s squad because you’d seen him fly, seen the way he handled his ODM gear. You grew to respect him like no one else. You stayed because of the sort of leader Levi proved to be. He didn’t demand authority like the rest, but he exuded it all the same. He didn’t care to be Humanity’s Strongest, but he still garnered hope and made people believe in him.

“I mean it,” you add, “I’m devoted to you.”

Levi's face pinches. “Careful with your words. I don’t like thoughtless sheep.”

“That’s not what I mean. You know I’m not scared to question your orders if I disagree with them. I’m smart and I’m strong. But even so, you’re the person I followed when I joined the Scouts. I would do anything for you.”

His eyes do not blink. “Anything.”

“Anything.”

Levi swallows heavily, taking a step back.

“Don’t say shit like that," he mutters. "Anything is everything. Other people would abuse your willingness. You should be careful.”

A moment passes by. You lick your lips, already moistened by the fog. Suddenly, you recall the actual reason for being here. You’re hot, burning. Like if you don’t get the release you desire, you might just need to cool off in the snow somewhere.

It might be why you dare to say your next words.

“Do you want to abuse my willingness?” you ask.

Levi’s stare darts back to you. Before you can control it, you squeeze your thighs tightly together, finding the tension unbearable. Levi takes notice: his eyes burn up and down, mouth parted.

It's maybe Levi's stupor that makes you act next. You push yourself up on the balls of your feet, rising with an arm draped over your breasts. The water provides a somewhat decent cover over what lies below your waist, but it does nothing to stop runlets plowing down your exposed curves.

Levi’s goes still. 

And you push through. 

“I lied, Captain Levi,” you tell him. 

His brows knit together.

“The truth is, I came out here because," you avert your gaze, "… because I needed relief.”

“Relief.”

“Yes, relief in the…," your cheeks grow warm, "physical sense, I mean.”

“You mean masturbation.”

“You’re putting it rather plainly, but sure,” you mumble. “I.. I’d still like that relief, sir.”

“Look, whatever depravity you’re up to does not concern—”

“With you. I'd like for it to be with you.”

Everything goes still after that.

Levi’s entire face is blank, as if he sucked in all his emotions. All you can hear is the light gust of wind, swallowed by the mountains.

“What..." Levi opens his mouth, then closes it shut again as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. The knot in his throat bobs in what you can only describe as the most painful seconds of your life. You swear your heartbeat must be loud enough for him to hear. "What you're suggesting. You realize that it’s against the rules.”

“I realize, sir,” you say.

“That I’m your Captain and you’re my subordinate?”

Dread settles at the bottom of your stomach. Yikes, you’re in for one of his lectures, aren’t you?

“Yes, Captain Levi.”

“That both of us could get in trouble if this gets out?”

... What?

Your eyes flit up.

Did you hear him correctly?

Levi assesses you. He takes a step forward and you shrivel back as he plants his arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He dips down into the water to come eye-level with you.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, stare never straying from yours.

You blink. Is your Captain seeking to understand your desires?

"S-sir?” you stutter.

“Tell me what you want, if you could have it,” he says.

Oh shit, he is. Your Captain is actually trying to understand what you want.

“Oh, um," you fumble with your words, heartbeat climbing up to your throat. Truthfully, you never expected to make it this far, so you feel unprepared. "Well, in my fantasies, my partner would… touch me, sir.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. But I suppose it begins with a… kiss.”

Levi’s eyes flicker to your lips.

Oh, fuck.

"Show me." 

Your eyes widen. "S-show you?"

"That's what I just said."

Now, normally, you'd be the type to overthink and overanalyze just about everything. So when your Captain says those words, beckons you closer, you stop thinking.

You do as he asks and you kiss him.

And you discover that his mouth is soft, like velvet on skin.

Then Levi leans into you—moving his lips over yours, cupping your cheeks with more vigor—and you realize that it’s truly happening. Your hands fall onto his chest bone and his heartbeat sparks under your fingertips. It's his heart. The heart he dedicated to the Survey Corps—it's yours, if only for a brief moment.

And reality crashes on you.

You’re kissing Levi Ackerman. Your Captain. Humanity's Strongest.

Holy shit.

Not wanting to waste this fleeting opportunity (because surely, this can't last), you slide your tongue further into the depths of his mouth. Levi lets out a hum of approval, and you taste him—taste the chamomile he drinks most evenings and the mint from his toothpaste.

When your eyes venture open, you find that your Captain’s steely gaze is already fixed on you, watching you through a half-lidded stare. You can see the clear blue ring around his silver irises. 

It only makes you want him more.

"C-captain," you say through the kiss. 

Levi breaks apart briefly. “Tell me.”

You take his hand and guide it to your chest.

“T-touch me here. Please.”

Levi acquiesces, gripping the bud of your nipple between two fingers and pinching, hard.

Pleasure ripples through your body, making you whimper in place.

At that moment, you can only imagine what you look like—flushed, pliant and pleading for more. You’ve never shown this side of yourself to him before; you wonder if it repulses him.

Wrong, utterly wrong. The opposite seems to be true, in fact; your Captain seems to delight himself with this facet you are revealing.

“Desperate, are we?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, tone dripping with a husky sense of satisfaction.

Before you can answer to his teasing, his mouth moves over your neck, while his hands continue to caress your breasts. The contrast of temperatures is so stark—the hot spring so warm, his skin so cold—that it makes you audibly gasp.

Your hands slide up towards his nape, and you brush the brittle undercut and twist, tugging him closer.

That’s when you feel it… the hardness—his hardness, pressing against your plump flesh.

At the contact, the Captain groans against your throat, biting down without restraint. You whimper, attempting to push back, but Levi's teeth don't let go.

"Quit squirming," he mutters.

Your warm breath clouds the air. “C-captain, please.”

“Mm?”

"Please touch me. I can’t bear to wait anymore.”

In response, Levi slides his free hand to tug at your hair. He pulls on your locks, exposing the side of your neck for him to ravish, nibbling from the tip of your ear to your collarbone.

“Don't you know that all good things come to those who wait?” he says. 

Vindictive that your Captain is depriving you of what you’ve asked, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. You roll your hips forward, grinding against him, a fleeting attempt to make him just as desperate at you are.

Levi hisses as your soft curves plow against his erection. “You little minx.”

He pulls you back to shoot you a glare. Dangerous move, his eyes convey. And yet, it also gives you a glimpse into his state and, oh... interesting. You aren’t the only one who’s flustered, you realize—rosiness dusts his cheeks and his pupils are wide-shot black.

Your lips quirk into a playful smile.

Levi shrugs with one arm, looking away. “Be patient, will you?” His voice is hoarse. “I’m not someone who does things half-way.”

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh. Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

Levi lets out a grunt that’s so decidedly him.

Suddenly, Levi completely lets go and your body drops into the water. You frown. One of Levi's lids twitches.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Teaching you some patience. Wait here and stay put."

"But, you said—“

“—that's an order.”

You close your mouth, shivering at the commanding tone in his voice. You aren't sure how you'll be able to go back from this after tonight—listening to his orders on the battlefield is going to be a nightmare.

Nonetheless, you do as he says, watching as he swims offshore where the oil lamp is placed.

And the whole situation hits you like bricks.

Holy shit.

You just kissed Captain Levi. And you're about to do more with him.

Why exactly is it happening now, of all times, you wonder? Why is your Captain allowing this?

In all the years you’ve been working alongside the Captain, you always thought your crush had gone unnoticed, or if Levi knew, that he had ignored it altogether.

Your observations are cut short as Levi comes back, holding up his towel and his green cloak above the water's surface.

You raise a questioning brow.

“I’m not touching you in this water, natural spring or not.” Your Captain unfolds the towel as he places it neatly over the smooth edge of the hot spring that's snow-free, casting the cloak behind. He shifts his blank stare on you, and taps on the ground with one hand. “Sit.”

You gulp, self-conscious at the idea of exposing yourself like this. Sure, it’s nighttime, and sure, the steam obscures the air, but he’s demanding a level of vulnerability that you hardly give out.

Levi picks up on your hesitation in a flash of a moment, reading you like a book. “You can still back away from this, you know.”

“I… no. No, I want this.” And you do—the way your core pulsates even now should be a telltale sign of just how much you want this. “I really want this.”

“Then what? You’re never uncertain during expeditions.”

“That’s because I know my shit out there. It’s not that easy with you. This is scary.”

Levi scoffs. “You think I’m scarier than a titan?”

“Of course not. But I overthink.”

Levi traps your chin between two fingers, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Then don’t think.” 

You falter, mouth parting. Levi skims a thumb over your lower lip. The sudden gentleness behind his words, combined with his actions, makes you falter.

“Okay,” you find yourself whispering back.

“Okay, what?”

You meet his stare head-on. His eyes are no longer a muted silver, but turning towards a stormy gray. They demand an answer.

And you have just the thing to give him.

“Please help me not to think, Captain.”

Levi lets out a long hum as he slides closer. There, he takes the time to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, all the while his hands create a path down your body, exploring for the first time.

“Is that what you want?” he asks in a low tone. “For me to help you stop thinking?”

“Y-yes." You swallow loudly. "You have complete control. Do whatever you want to me, just... get me there.”

In one movement, Levi plucks you off the ground, his hands gripping your ass as if you weighed nothing at all. You squirm in his grip, clutching his back for support as your wet flesh slides against his own. He then carefully places you onto the towel so that you're sitting on the edge of the hot spring, your calves dipping into the water. The rocks under you are smooth, and you now tower over him.

Levi takes a step back to admire you, his eyes roving over every facet of your body, tracing your curves with meticulous care.

It makes you squirm in place. “Captain…”

“Levi,” he answers without missing a beat, engrossed in admiring your body. He parts your legs as he anchors himself in between them, where he draws circles along your rib cage, thumb slotting along every dip.

“Huh?”

His silver eyes look up to you, a fire in them that wasn’t there before.

“We’re not here as soldiers, so. Just call me Levi,” he says.

One hand nestles along the flesh of your waist while you tremble in his arms. Levi angles your head sideways with his other palm, siphoning your neck with kisses before finding a sensitive spot that makes you gasp.

“Alright… ah, Levi,” you say with some difficulty. It feels strange to call your Captain so informally, but there’s something arousing about it too.

"And if I do anything that displeases you or that feels too much, just so."

"Say what?"

He pulls back for a moment. "I don't know, pick something."

"Anything?"

He nods.

You think about it for a moment when the idea hits you. "Okay... Green, red. Formation colors."

Levi scoffs. "Titan formations."

"You said to pick, so I picked. Still a soldier through and through, right?"

"Whatever you say."

Levi’s hand trails to your chest, moving to cup one of your breasts between his nimble digits. His thumbs toy with it while his tongue finds its place along the valley of your second breast.

His hot breath drifts against the tip of your hardened tit, “I'm gonna go down on you.”

Before you can answer, Levi flicks the bud of your nipples with his teeth, swirling his tongue in circles that sparks pleasure everywhere—leaving you to moan and hold onto his set of hair.

Your words tumble mid-breath. “Are you s-sure?”

Levi’s stare lock with yours, his lips still sealed to your breast. He pulls away with a pop, a thread of saliva connecting between his mouth and your nipple.

The sight makes you want to scream.

“Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?” he asks.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“No… I guess not. I… fuck, okay, yes. Go down on me, Levi. Green, so fucking green.”

Levi takes a step back, using your name to usher you into execution. “On your back, then, and put my cloak on. You’re not catching a fucking cold from this.”

I don’t think I’ll be getting cold with what's ahead, you think to yourself. 

Nonetheless, you comply with his orders. You slide his cloak over your shoulders and prop your elbows down. Before you can blink, Levi pulls you towards him by the grip of your thighs, causing your back to lie flush with the ground. You glance at him, bewildered.

Levi has wrapped his hands around the meat of your legs, parting them to have full access. There's a wild glint to his eyes, like what you have between your legs is making him lose himself. Before you can blink, Levi begins to heed kisses on the inner parts of your legs, his touch slow and treacherous. It makes your hips buck, twitching beneath him.

“Sensitive, are we?” Levi tuts, his warm breath tickling your skin.

Any clever answer you might have given him is snuffed out as his warm breath falls on your sex. His hot tongue dips into your folds, something almost wicked in the way he rams in. You jerk up, calves sliding out of the water to wrap themselves around his neck.

You shoot up to grab a fistful of his hair.

But Levi stops you in your tracks. He pulls back, gathering your wrists in one hand. “Stay put. You can look but you can’t touch.”

And with that, he flings your wrists to your stomach, clinging onto you as his other hand pins one leg down. Then, he relishes in the wetness between your legs, slowing down in a manner that’s oh so sensual.

That wicked little man.

“Captain,” you complain, trembling beneath his touch. You can’t take it anymore—not being able to move, being held down as he unravels you, and now he teases you with his tongue?

It’s too much and at the same, it's not enough.

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts.

“S-s-shit,” you breathe out, your mind going into overdrive from being pinned like this. 

You knew of Levi’s strength, of course. Everyone within the Walls knows about Humanity’s Strongest. You’ve even had the privilege to witness it firsthand on expeditions.

But seeing it used in his lovemaking, well… it's something else entirely.

“You fucking tease. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?” you mutter. 

His voice hums against your sex. “And what if I am?”

That’s when Levi hits your spot, tenderly sucking on your clit in a way that makes you heave. This time, you can’t help but release a louder moan, hips arching up to meet his lips.

But just as you're about to reach that bliss you've craved all along, Levi pulls away.

You're left cold. Aching.

You tilt your head to gape at him. Levi’s mouth glistens with your slickness, but it does nothing to quell down your frustration.

What the hell is he doing?

You’re about to mouth him off when his expression shifts, stormy eyes narrowing.

“Patience,” he grits out.

It’s painful, the way he just delayed your orgasm. In the absence of his touch, your core throbs, begging for some kind of release.

So despite him being your superior, you can’t help but let out disgruntled words, “I don’t like being delayed, sir.”

Levi scoffs as his hands travel back onto your dampened skin. “I always knew you’d get bossy in bed.”

Your brows raise, wondering if you heard him correctly. Does this mean your Captain has thought about you… in bed?

Before you can ask, Levi moves on, dipping back into the task at hand. He shoves your legs apart, pinning you in place with an iron grip. His other hand trails over your damp inner thigh, positioning one finger at the entrance of your vagina, a digit sliding in. You feel your walls clench around his finger, pleasure ebbing through you as he discovers that magic spot that makes your toes curl.

“Perfect fucking cunt,” Levi slurs against you, cheek pressed against your shaking leg as he glides his deft finger with steady movements, mouth nuzzling closer to your silky clit.

You whimper at his praises, hips bulking up to chase his tongue. You try to keep quiet, but the more your Captain learns where to hit your points of pleasure, the more you think you may not maintain this charade for very long.

You realize that the way he delayed your orgasm has made the buildup now so much more intense. Your muscles tense, like a spring about to let loose.

So the relief that comes from Levi’s mouth wrapping against your clit again brings tears in your eyes. Pleasure seeps in. You try to grind against him to chase it even faster, but Levi remains unwilling to allow you to assert your dominance here—he keeps you pinned, keeping complete control, like he said he would.

More—you need more.

“Please, Captain. Please, please, please.”

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts. It's as if all he needed was to hear you plead to give you exactly what you want. His digit rams into you, the pad of his thumb moving to tease you while his tongue flicks your clit with increased fervency.

Your heart drums quicker than a horse’s canter.

“… shit, shit, shit,” you choke.

When you open your eyes again, you find that Levi’s face is locked on you already—his compact muscles tense, his usual steel-eyes now a smoky haze. If only you knew what this is doing to him. His mouth seals on your bundle of nerves with a groan, his digit curling to rub your g-spot, thrusting with well-timed movements.

And then, he hits the point you were begging to be touched all along, groaning into your folds…

Right.

There.

The coil splits and your climax flares.

Your mouth opens to release a silent scream, skull rolling back as tiny warm tingles swim through your body.

Holy hell.

Levi stays with you through the orgasm, riding the bliss with you. He takes in the sight of you coming undone for him—learning from it, committing it in his memory.

Legs shaking, you don’t even register Levi tending to you as you come down. He licks your wetness pulsating in his mouth, enraptured in the taste of it as he takes it all in. With meticulous dexterity, he slides his coated fingers into his mouth, watching you as he goes about it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stutter out.

In response, Levi only continues to pepper kisses over your trembling legs. A madman, you think.

After a moment, Levi’s touch slides away. The sound of water sloshing as he pushes himself out of the hot spring.

Your head lulls sideways to admire him.

Levi’s neck is flushed—whether from the stream or from going down on you, it’s hard to tell—but it’s about the most bewitching sight you’ve ever seen. He sinks to his knees, like a religious man kneels before the Three Goddesses, and your breath falters as you catch sight of his erection.

He’s hard, tip flushed red. A trail of black hair paves down from his navel to his erection, while the rest of his body glistens under the moonlight. Sinewy muscles and tendons, locked together—years of relentless training and surviving on display.

The sight of it makes it impossible to think.

“Captain Levi,” you say with some urgency.

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna need you inside me. Now.”

“Are you ordering me around?” There's slight derision in his voice, twisting your insides.

“Yes,” you lick your lip, eyes locking with his, “that’s right, I’m ordering you.”

Levi huffs, forearms flexing as he crawls towards you—slowly, like a predator does its prey. With his body still warm from the hot spring, it creates a fog around him, his pale skin gleaming like gossamer.

Levi's voice remains steady, eyes impassive, but there's a hint of something in his eyes that tells you he enjoys being spoken back to.

“Someone thinks highly of herself, ordering her Captain around,” he chastises.

“Said Captain has yet to say no.”

“And why would I refuse you?”

At that, your Captain captures your lips. Your savor the way his body molds into yours, tasting your muskiness on his tongue. A wonderful sensation overwhelms you then—knowing you allowed your body to succumb to his touches, knowing he wanted to taste you in this manner.

As he breaks away the kiss, you can't help but continue to ask for more. 

“Sir…”

Levi tugs at your waist, sliding you back down with force. “What did I say about calling me by my name?”

He looms over you, his bangs dusting his face. Your lips twitch into a coy smile, sliding your fingers into his slick hair. It's so soft.

“And what if I want to call you by your title?” you ask.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Despite the neutral tone in his voice, there’s something dark in his stare, heightened by pink cheeks and red ears. He strokes the ball of your shoulder with his thumb. “You’re one of those people who gets off on authority, huh?”

You grip his arms, turning your head away. Levi rubs his cock over your clit, teasing you and spreading your wetness. You mewl.

“You're lucky I'm feeling generous,” Levi says in your ear. “You better use it well."

Your breath catches in your chest as the tip of his length enters you. His warm hands skim over the flesh of your body, letting you slowly adjust to him, cradling you.

“That will all depend on you, Captain Levi,” you manage to pant out, letting the l sound roll of your tongue.

He grates out your name. “So fucking mouthy.”

“Well, I learned from the best, sir.”

Levi’s stare locks onto you, gazing at you like he was in a trance. His Adam's apple bobs. He almost looks vulnerable for a split moment.

“You've watched me, have you?” he says in a low tone.

Your cheeks warm at the suggestion in Levi’s words, mouth parting to contest when you feel his forefinger run along your lower lash line. Your eyes meet his piercing gaze.

He leans close, mouth hovering close to yours.

“I've watched you too,” he confesses.

And then, Levi slams into you.

Your cry mixes in with Levi's groan. Reaching blindly for something to hold on to, wanting—needing—him to understand just what he’s doing to you, you settle on clawing at his back. Levi’s thrusts are treacherous—painfully slow at first, pounding with full intensity.

The way of a man trying to ruin you.

“Holy s-shit,” you breathe, puffs of white clouding the air.

Levi holds you close as his hips roll forward to settle on a cadence that matches your vices, his flushed cheeks pressing against yours. You hook your fingers, grinding into his touch—your mind edging towards complete absolution.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice decadent. "You're so. Perfect.”

His words cause something delicious to swirl within you.

Levi slings an arm around your back, the other hooking up one knee to position himself deeper, slipping out and back into your wanting heat. You watch as his lips press together like he were trying to contain back a moan, but it’s obscured by your vision blurring at the sensation of his length stretching you out.

With one traitorous jerk, your walls throb in pleasure, eyes brimming with tears as you stare at Levi’s pale skin and the snow mingling together. Your nails scratch his hips, leaving red marks on his soft, plush skin.

“Levi,” you plead.

Levi, what? You aren’t sure what you’re calling out to him for. You’re too forgone, too dizzy, to notice you used his first name, let alone find the words to finish that thought.

His back muscles go taut under your fingertips, his spine moving in accordion with the rolling of his hips.

More.

More.

More.

“Captain, please, please—.”

“Be patient,” he grits out. His tousled hair clings over his forehead, lips parting as your bodies merge into one. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, he pulls out of you and flips you over so that you’re on all four. He angles your waist up, one hand pinning your neck down, the other holding onto your hair, as he slides back in..

Then Levi moves down on you and bites your right shoulder—hard. Pleasures ripples through your body, feeling his mark on your skin.

"Color?" he asks, voice shaking.

"Ngh... green, so fucking green." You whimper, nails scratching at the soil. “Do it again."

And Levi only delivers, his bite turning to something strong enough to bruise as he thrusts into you.

You wonder what Levi looks like up there, gripping at your waist while the rest of your body curves face down. You wish you could frame a picture for yourself to stow away.

If you could see your Captain, you’d see that his eyes are trained on the sight of your naked body glistening with sweat. You’d catch him fixing his cock getting lost inside of you, your walls clamping around him. You’d see the way his eyes marvel at your curves—how your body blends with valleys of snow over the horizon. You'd see the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, burning the way you are.

A state of euphoria.

“F-f-fuck. I can't get enough of you,” you hear him confess.

Can’t get enough of you? Are you hearing him correctly? Since when does your Captain speak like that?

Still, his words seem to ignite something inside you, emboldened to see more of this side your Captain is revealing.

“Tell me,” you murmur, pleasuring building and building.

His answer doesn’t miss a beat, straightening up to pound into you harder. “You drive me crazy.”

Levi’s fingers dig into your flesh, something needy, something bruising, about his grip.

“Yeah? Then let me let you in on something, Levi… Captain, ah,” you mutter, eyes fluttering as he continues to fill you up. “The reason I came out here in the first place was because… ngh, I wanted to imagine your fingers touching me. Wanted to imagine it was you fingering me.”

“F-fuck,” Levi hisses.

He grips your hips with full-blooded vigor, siphoning into you with a quickened pace.

“Captain, I—”

But your words die out when three fingers find a place on your swollen clit. Your brain short-circuits.

Your orgasm splinters into the night.

You go boneless, sagging into pure bliss, while Levi continues to thrust into you. Feeling your walls clench so tightly, creaming his length, he follows soon after—the rushing heat of his climax answers your own, his pulsing cock engulfed by your heat.

And your brain? Your brain is numb.

For a moment, all the two of you can do is pant and attempt to regain your senses. One of Levi’s hand rests on the small of your back, while you slowly uncurl your fingers from the ground.

Eventually, Levi slides out of you. He uses the towel to help you clean up. You watch him go about it, mind still delirious, something almost coy about the way he handles the aftercare of your lovemaking.

When all is said and done, a comfortable silence fills the air.

It’s now well past twilight, and both of you only have a precious few hours before you’re back on the road.

Neither of you are particularly tired. You let your sore body slide back into the warm water with your Captain by your side. You watch the mountains slope down, elbows perked on the edge of the hot spring, basking in the utter peace that comes from this sort of silence.

You lean a cheek on your propped hand to watch him. A light breeze tousles Levi’s black hair, faint snow dusting the air. You count the scars twined on his torso, wondering about the story behind each one.

Maybe one day, your Captain might open up about each of them.

"Did it work?" Levi interrupts the trembling silence, watching as you draw circles over the smooth edge of the hot spring.

Your eyes circle around to meet his cloudy stare.

You raise a brow. "Did what work?"

"Did you stop thinking?"

You snort, recalling your pleading request. "Yeah. I stopped thinking. And... thank you, by the way."

Levi hums. There's another lull in the conversation, filled with comfortable silence.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that this should remain between us,” he says.

That makes you roll your eyes. “Aw, you wound me, Captain. Here I was hoping to gossip with everyone about the way you like to eat people out.”

Levi shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I’m not stupid, Levi,” you add.

Levi clicks his tongue. “No, just too fucking ballsy. Never knew your mouth ran so wild.”

You smirk. “Well, sorry to say, sir, but you’ve not seen half of what my mouth can do.”

You swear a a rosy hue dusts the ridge of his nose. “You're a shameless thing, you know that?”

You laugh, tilting your head sideways. “I told you. I know what I want.”

“Clearly,” he remarks, eying you. “And you’ve wanted this for a while.”

Despite having just had his face buried between your legs, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at that comment and the confession it demands of you.

“Never said that,” you dismiss.

“No? What were your exact words? That you—”

“Don’t repeat what I said!” you hiss, glaring at him. “It was in the heat of the moment. You can’t hold it against me.”

Levi grunts in an amused way, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, unsure how he might use this knowledge. You didn't think about any of it before, but where do you go from here?

Levi gives you that answer seconds later. He raises a hand to your face, tugging a strand behind your ear and swirling his thumb over your jaw.

“Well, next time you dream of my fingers, just come to me,” he says simply.

There’s an intensity in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before.

You go still.

Next time?

Is that a promise?

His thumb presses over your neck, feeling you gulp against his fingertip. Your stomach contracts in anticipation.

Oh, it is a promise.

You could get used to this new side of your Captain.

And then Levi retreats, eyes never wavering from yours, and bobs his head towards the chalet.

“Now to the shower, we’re not reeking come morning.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, soldier.”

You sigh.

There’s the Captain you’ve grown to like so much.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Spotify Playlist that inspired this fic Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me ~

Taglist: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi, @loyal2rin, @levistealeaf, @queen0sharena, @levisecretgfblog, @bitchymanlet

#users on my taglist - sorry for tagging you all so late tumblr was bugging on me #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi x oc #levi x y/n #levi x you #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #ao3 fanfic #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #flo's fanfics #flo's oneshots #n.sfw #flo is writing . . .

[b1mbodoll]

pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + barbed cock + noncon + babytrapping + creampies + breeding + cervix fucking + pregnancy + biting

kitty hybrid! jungwon is so clingy :( he cant help it, needs to be around you all the time n mewls when you deny his cock attention.

when he smells you ovulating he bides his time til you finally fall asleep n slips his dick inside your wet cunt. his barbed cock hurts so good n it wakes you up.

“wonie? what are you —ah — doing?” your kittyboy drops his head on your shoulder n sighs, “please let me fuck you.”

you try to find the nerve to make him stop but you can’t, not when it feels so good. “mkay wonie but you have to pull out.”

he whines in response, “‘m serious! don’t cum inside.” jungwon doesnt reply and you think it’s cus he’s so fucked out n just let him continue his movements.

he’s so close and can’t resist cumming inside, sinks his teeth deep in your neck n it makes you go limp, unable to push him away and the feeling of his load shooting directly into your womb combined with the pain from his bite makes your pussy clench n it’s not long before you reach your own orgasm.

“feels so good, wanna cum in you again,” he purrs, “will let me fill you up, sweetheart? wanna get you pregnant”

you’re too cockdrunk to focus on his words and he takes advantage of your failure to reply. “shouldn’t have even asked ‘s not like i was gonna stop if you said no, baby.”

you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to plow into you, cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust. his only mission is to breed you properly n knock you up <3

#flo if u see this : this is for u bc u put jungwon in my head #and now i #have hybrids on my mind 😵‍💫 #decided to use hybrid won an experiment #if u guys want jungwon stuff lmk !!!! maybe i will write more :3 #♡.the honeypot #yang jungwon #enhypen #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #💌.hybrids #💌.noncon #💌.babytrapping #💌.creampies #💌.breeding #💌.cervix fucking

[q1ngqve]

plspls do smut fic with dr ratio x reader

yk the one that you reblogged, the one with the “fuckfuck” sub x “watch your language “ dom? DO SMUT OF IT PLSPLS

link

your chest rise and falls as you try to catch your breath, and the position you’re in is not helping at all. your mouth falls agape slightly as dr ratio angles himself into you, the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot.

your legs shake on his shoulders, and you shy away from his intense gaze. he has you in a mating press, your legs close to your head, dangling on his broad shoulders as he leans down to give you a kiss. embarrassing noises leave you as his hands grip at your ankles, forcing himself further into you.

“fuck fuck fuck—”

strings of curses fly put uncontrollably from how good he feels stretching you out in his position.

“careful, now. use such words again, and see if you get to cum tonight.” his brows furrow down at you, clearly displeased at the use of such foul language.

another cry escapes you as he plunges harder into you, and more uncivilized words roll of your tongue.

“what’d I say?”

but these warnings only spur you on.

he groans when you clench around him, tight enough for him to know that it was intentional. “or what? you’ll fucking—” your words cut off as he kisses you again, roughly this time, sticking his tongue into your mouth, shutting you up.

“then I’ll show you what it means to fuck.”

#LISTEN TO RODEO (REMIX) BY LAH PAT AND FLO MILLI WHILE READING THIS PLEASE #LOVE MAKING AT THE START #TO FUCKING AT THE END #😵‍💫ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #OMG IM SO GIDDY #🀥 lan’s writings! #☃︎ anons! #hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio hsr #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio smut #dr ratio smut

[youre-ackermine]

Moodboard:

Headcanons:

Postwar Levihan

It's been three years since the war ended. Against all odds, Hange survived & lives with Levi. They found an abandoned cabin in a remote area near Liberio, miraculously spared as well as the bunch of trees that hides it from sight.

Day after day, they fixed up their new home as best they could. It’s not much but it’s their safe, shared home & it’s all that matters.

Once settled, none of them could stay out of the action. Hange works in what remains of Liberio, in a makeshift hospital occupying the ground floor of a half-destroyed building. They help treat sick or injured people several days & nights a week.

There isn’t enough room at the hospital so they managed to set up a lab at home where they can do some research, mostly about new medications or even prosthetics. Levi stays at home most of the time, taking care of the house, growing a vegetable garden, cutting wood & planting more trees around their cabin. In his glass house, Levi enjoys raising flowers, but he also sowed medicinal herbs for Hange’s experiments. Every once in a while, he goes to Liberio to help refugees, mostly children who lost their parents during the war.

Valentine's Day

A couple weeks ago, Gabi & Falco told Levi about Valentine’s Day, a tradition unknown on Paradis Island. As much as it seemed futile at first, Levi couldn't stop mulling over the idea.

After several days of wearying work, Levi convinced Hange to rest properly for once.

Sitting on the bed next to them, he takes a few moments to gaze at Hange’s sleepy face. He finds them beautiful, despite the burns. Or maybe he loves them even more because of these scars, a testament to their bravery. He’s so grateful they’re here with him, brightening his days with their cheerful, beaming smile, the very smile he fell in love with.

Meanwhile they sleep in on their day off, he busies himself getting tea ready for breakfast, packing some food & a blanket in a basket, slicing vegetables for the stew simmering in the pot over the fire. 

Levi is waiting for Hange in the hall while they put the bouquet of snowdrops he picked for them earlier this morning in a vase. They blushed & stammered a shy thank you when he drew it from behind the basket placed on his lap.

He promised himself today would be special. Nothing fancy, but a few hours for themselves without work or chores.

Hange would push his wheelchair along the paths nearby, blabbering about their research, asking him a million questions about the garden or the herbs he grows, about the pain in his leg. From time to time, they would lean down to kiss him on the cheek, giggling like a shy teenager. They would find a nice place to spread a blanket on the grass & enjoy their picnic. They would spend the afternoon watching clouds, Levi listening with fondness to Hange’s explanations about their shapes or how they form. When the sun would start to set & the breeze to be too cold, they would go back home & take a bath to warm themselves. 

Hange would stuff their face with the most delicious stew they ever tasted. They would settle with a contented sigh & a glass of wine in front of the fireplace, snuggled up against Levi under a warm blanket.

Levi would say he's not good with words. Levi would draw a little box out of his pocket & simply give it to Hange. Levi would gently slide the jewel on Hange's finger, not a proposal but rather a promise.

The promise to spend the rest of their lives together.

Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

Moodboard, header & dividers: @youre-ackermine

Requested by: Flo @littlerequiem 🌹

A/N: Snowdrops are a symbol of hope, new beginnings, renewal, comfort, capacity to triumph over challenges, beauty & purity// English is not my usual language // Click on the moodboard for better quality

#val-entine's day event 2024 ❤️ #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan #levihan moodboard #levihan headcanons #snk moodboard #snk headcanons #aot moodboard #aot headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #lovely moots 💕 #flo 🌹 #littlerequiem #val writes ✍️ #val's moodboards 🌺 #val's headers 🔳 #val's dividers 🧱

[wexhappyxfew]

light up my lover's way

BLIND DATES FEST 2024

featuring: Florence 'Flo' Godfrey and Captain Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco + Meatball being the ultimate wingman Absolutely beyond excited to put this out. Florence has been living in my brain for some time, but Masters of the Air and @blind-dates-fest (thank you Merc for the fun!) offered the perfect opportunity to do some writing and recently, with the episodes we've gotten, I've become a big DeMarco fan and wanted to see what I could do. I tried to really nail down how I could write him since we don't have a whole lot of content from him, and I didn't feel the most comfortable writing in the MoTA universe yet just because I wanted to see all the episodes first, but I wanted to give it the old college try and really enjoyed how this piece and how Florence came out! She was a treat to write and considering her story, this was a night for her well deserved! I missed out last year because of school stress and this year, wanted to be kinder to myself and allow some time to test out the waters with writing in MoTA. Please enjoy Flo and her time with DeMarco! :)

The mirror stared back at her with a more than poignant look on her face, as she gazed at her rugged-looking hair that had surely seen better days.

Extensive time out in the sun on the tarmac, with plenty of harsh oils and chemicals meant for planes and not exactly hair would do the trick though. Self-assured, she reached back and ripped a brush through the caramel ends of her hair that were in need of cutting and sighed quietly to herself before glancing back at her reflection.

Lemmons had encouraged her to take the night off - you've been working hard, Godfrey, take the night to get a drink or better yet, a full night of sleep where you're not thinking entirely about all things plane-related. She'd been pretty hesitant, she'd even told him that he was the one who needed the night off, but he'd quickly brushed some dirt off her shoulder, helped her scrub out the paint stain from her OD jacket and then promptly shoved her off in the direction of the celebration in the nearby hall that a good portion of the men and pilots had gathered into. She'd taken the time to gather herself, clean herself up and look presentable, but she was left appearing hesitant to even leave her room.

Florence Godfrey felt more mechanic some days than woman, but on days like that, she usually found some of the Red Cross girls and spent nights trading cigarettes, telling stories and sharing coffee from the potbelly stove in the corner that worked to keep them all warm. Sometimes, she tried to work so stringently that when she got in, she'd lay down and reflect and cry.

But, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights, no, her hands weren't covered in grease, her hair wasn't matted with sweat and her boots weren't soaked with mud and ice-cold water.

No, she actually had washed up, powdered her face, pulled a bit of lipstick onto her slightly chapped lips, and smiled to herself, the dress that fell below her knees a beautiful baby-bird blue.

Lemmons had been right - finally do something for yourself, give yourself the wheel of life. She wanted to do that for herself, more than anything.

The celebration in the hall was dying down - she took a glance at her watch - it was past midnight and people were slowly pouring out, a few couples still slowly swaying in the middle of the floor, some others milling about or talking quietly with gentle smiles in corners outside of the main doors.

Florence smiled quietly to herself - even just to get a drink that wasn't her inhaling water to keep herself from feeling parched. She'd never really allowed herself a freedom like this away from the planes, away from the other mechanics and ground crewmen. She'd always told herself to do her job, do what was needed of her and then bed out and wake the next time she was needed. She had always been like that though ever since working with Dad at the Navy Yard as a 9-year-old, learning all the bits and bobs that made things run and function.

Florence waded into the softly lit bar where only a few people were still at, finishing last minute drinks or basking in the quietly gleaming Billie Holiday singing 'If You Were Mine' over the speakers in the corners of the room. Florence walked up to the edge of the bar and offered a smile at the bartender who came towards her and offered a smile back and nodded.

"What can I interest you in tonight, Miss….?"

"Godfrey. Florence Godfrey," Florence said with a soft smile, "I'll take a French 75 if it's possible." The bartender smiled with a nod and turned away, whisking himself away to start prepping. Florence grinned to herself and then looked up towards the wooden ceiling, covered in pretty lights and patterned carvings.

Suddenly, she felt a presence at her….feet? Florence took a moment to think before looking down and seeing a beautiful, gray dog sniffing at her shoes, a brown harness around his soft fur and his puppy-dog eyes quickly looking up at her in excitement and glee.

"Awe, hello there!" Florence said, kneeling down in front of the mixed-husky dog, petting his face, her heart immediately softening at the sight as she laughed quietly to herself, "Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen in months." The dog licked at her cheeks and she let out a laugh as she rubbed behind his ears, the dog's tongue hanging out as his whole body seemed to shake with excitement, tail in all directions.

"Hey, Meatball, don't go sneaking up on the ladies," a voice called from behind the dog.

Florence looked up from, if she caught the name correctly - Meatball, the dog - and found instead one of the pilots of the B-17s walking towards her, gentle eyes lingering on her, long enough for a crimson color to rush her cheeks, his hair dark and nicely cut and styled, and the small smile on his face suddenly making her think that this pilot was actually the prettiest thing she'd seen in months. Florence felt a warmth enter her body, a quiet calm overcoming her as she felt an uncontrollable smile cross her lips, as she slowly rose back to her feet and watched the pilot come closer, the thrum of a quiet Louis Armstrong song entering her ears.

"Italian or Swedish?" Florence couldn't help but say as the pilot neared, his eyes deep and dark, but soothing and welcoming all the same. The pilot let out a soft laugh, his eyes trailing down to Meatball, the dog - she'd never get over how adorable that was - before looking to her.

"Italian." he said, with a nod, "Why? Don't think he fits the part?" Florence let out a quiet laugh and kneeled down again to Meatball and scratched beside his little head and laughed.

"I think he's adorable," she said, "how'd you get a hold on him?" The pilot smiled at her and leaned against the bar.

"Boarded a B-17 with me back in Greenland, was a real good sport the whole flight," the pilot said and then shrugged a bit, "I think I convinced him that he'd make a good co-pilot." Florence laughed as she stood to her feet again and looked at him with soft eyes.

"I don't think it'd be proper of me to only think of you as Meatball's Dad," she said, watching the small smile on his face quickly grow, "gotta name?"

"DeMarco. Captain Bernard DeMarco, but you can just call me DeMarco, whatever suites your fancy." he said, before chuckling slightly, before imitating, "Some of the guys like to yell, DeMarcooooo!" Then he looked to her and smiled.

"You don't have to do all that though," he said, leaning closer slightly, "Benny'll do just fine. Special cases." Florence stared at him quietly for a moment and then grinned.

"Benny it is…..Captain," she said, before holding out a hand, "Godfrey. Florence Godfrey, but you can just call me Godfrey, whatever suites your fancy." She smirked slightly at his face as he reached out and shook her hand.

"Some of the guys I work with like to yell," and she woefully imitated Lemmons, "Godfreyyyyy!" She then leaned closer to him and smiled up into his beautiful, tender eyes.

"You don't have to do all that though," she whispered, "Flo'll do just fine…..special cases." Benny stared at her for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile and gently holding her hand in between them like a sacred piece of life.

"Goddess of flowers," he whispered quietly, his voice a soft rumble, "Flo." She smiled up at him.

"Ma thought it was pretty." she offered to him. He smiled at her in the dimmed light of the bar, that Ella Fitzgerald song she was always forgetting the name of somewhere above their heads, eyes warm and simply, only on her.

"Your Ma was right." he said back to her, staring at her with genuineness and fullness in his eyes. She felt her face warm and let out a laugh at his words, covering her mouth as she did so. Looking back up at him, she watched him stare right back at her and smiled as her hand fell from her mouth.

"I've never seen you around in here before," he said softly, "couldn't help but introduce myself, or well, Meatball, for introducing us." Florence looked down to Meatball, sat patiently staring up between them with his ever-caring eyes that dogs always seemed to have.

"He likes you," Benny said, his hand, which evidently was larger than hers, still clasped around her own, with no sign of disconnecting soon, "he's a friendly fella, but he don't just go up to anyone." Florence's eyes softened as she rubbed her free hand on top of Meatball's soft little head and glanced to Benny again.

"Dogs are probably some of the best creatures to ever walk to Earth," she said with a smile, "Sometimes they know us better than ourselves. I like to think sometimes they're protecting us, or….just there to guide us, be with us, give us someone who unconditionally loves you, ya know?" Benny's smile on his face was something that engrained itself quickly in her mind and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said softly, "I like to think of it that way, too." For a moment, as Ella Fitzgerald sang her part, the gentle thrum of a bass and brass to follow, they watched each other as if taking in the very quiet moment they had there between one another that night. An unexpected chance for Florence to get out of her normal gear and into a dress, to have her hands free of grease for the first time in a while, and to be looked at by a man with the softest eyes she'd ever seen - with a dog named after an Italian meatball no less.

"I'd ask for your hand in a dance, but I'm afraid that French 75 is calling your name and Meatball would take offense," Benny said, his eyes seemingly nervously flitting to the drink that had appeared at her side before meeting hers again, "and I know you're one of the women who works with the ground crews….I'd hate to steal an evening away from a good drink." Florence watched him.

"You know I work with the ground crews?" Benny nodded with a smile.

"You hang around Lemmons a lot," Benny offered, "and you work hard. We all see that. Buck does, too. Mentioned you were the best of the best. Didn't want to be too forward when I heard you tell the bartender your name." Florence watched him, as he gave Meatball a smile and a pet on the head before he looked to her again.

"Ma didn't raise me to be impolite either," he said with a nod, "and you've earned an off night like this and a drink like that."

"And a night getting to talk to a man like you." Florence said quietly to him, her heart starting to pound as he watched her - no one ever really had mentioned her in the way he had, having noticed her before and even made the effort to talk to her like he had. Her palms felt sweaty, and her mouth felt dry. Benny watched her for a moment as she took a sip of her drink and then looked to him.

"I'd be more than happy to spend a night dancing with you," she whispered.

There was something unspoken behind her words - like the realization was still there, they just hadn't mentioned in. In war, moments like this were precious and sheltered and held close in the palms of their hands. A night with someone with tender eyes was worth more than enough money in the world to her, especially in wartime. The thought saddened her heart and her mind as she stared at Benny DeMarco, with that million-dollar smile and those eyes. Benny let out a shaky breath that he looked like he'd been holding in and reached forward to take her hands in his and leaned forward the slightest bit so the only things she could see and hear were him and his voice.

"With you? I'd consider it a privilege." he whispered and then pressed a soft kiss to her hands clasped in his and then gently pulled her towards the open dance floor where only a few couples were left and had made it this late in the night. Wrapped in each other's warm embraces there in the middle of the floor, Billie Holiday's voice singing in the eves, and the gentle sway of their bodies so intimately close there, Florence let herself dance softly that night with Benny DeMarco.

Florence let herself live a bit for once.

#yeah i love them #THEM #*holds gently in hands* #*sobs* #florence 'flo' godfrey #bernard demarco #+meatball fav of favs #love meatball being the wingman #masters of the air #hbo war #mota #blind dates fest 2024 #this was an utter JOY to write i hope anyone who reads also enjoys!!! #love these two with my whole heart! #flo deserves to live a little :) #mota writings

[lychniis]

― PINK CAMELLIA.

diluc, kaeya, zhongli x reader.

 “longing for you.” + angst

WARNING(S) : just...pining. a horrific amount of pining. that's it, that's the plot, unrequited but not unrequited love, and a shit load of feelings left unsaid.

#main masterlist | flos anthalogy masterlist

&& . diluc ragnvindr · ( he lies to his heart ; the words stay unsaid )

“IS SOMETHING WRONG?” you ask, nervously shifting away one of the boxes as you look up at him with parted lips and a raised brow. He catches himself staring ( and he was always staring at you, across the street, from the bar, during your little talks and the conversations held during the afterhours; staring but never moving closer left the illusion shattering ) and shakes his head with the tiniest of smiles. It was there, but easily missable save for the sharp eyed and witty.

Your shoulders relax and you nod. “Alright then…” you mumble, carefully placing a tea set wrapped in thick cloth into one of the boxes. “You’re quieter than usual today, ‘Luc…” you add. “But…thank you for helping me pack…”

And there it was, that damned smile, the smile that took away the rationale and sanity and his peace of mind. The smile that invades his thoughts at night and fills them with you and your peace and the comfort you came with.

“It’s no issue for me.” He replies. “I am always happy to help you…” 

That was true, but not for this. Will you be safe? Will you be happy? Was he happy? 

Diluc knew life was filled with the good and the bad. The memories of his youth, the time he and Kaeya once played within the brook just a little ways off the winery, the smile his father passes his way, the inside jokes between him, Elzer and Adelinde and you. You and your small apartment and your silly musings and your walls filled with half finished paintings.

( The smell of it all has long faded. The walls were empty; Diluc feels empty. )

There were the happy things, then the sad. The hours he had left, the minutes that ticked by, the fact that you were leaving. Paths diverged every day, people met then part ways and life sets its course once more, unbothered by it all. Diluc knows that. He knows that.

Why does it hurt?

( His hands were trembling. He wants it to stop. )

You laugh, placing the last of the boxes out and pause by the doorway. He takes you in, one last time. 

Once upon a time, he may have found you a little annoying and strange; a bit of a sore spot, a presence he would have to put up with. Not now. Diluc would take all of you in, every part of you from the tiny peeving parts to the bits he adored ( and the silly nicknames, the ones that were so ridiculous and soft ).

He should tell you. He should, he ought to.

But he cannot. Because you were you, and he was Diluc. You were kind, and you deserved the world and someone safe. Not him. Never him.

So he stays quiet. He watches your belongings ( and the familiarity and the memories ) fill the cart. He watches your last checkup. He breathes in and he knows he should let you go. He should let you go ( even if Kaeya calls him foolish, if he is sick with worry, if he wants to pull you close and beg you to stay. Because Diluc knows this too : to love is to learn to lose. Because love was selfless, and it was cruel and it was pain and euphoria molded into one.

...fuck, he loves you... ) 

“I’ll be off then…” you declare. He snaps his head up. You were standing in front of him now. “I…I hope we see each other soon…” you add. “Shall we write often?”

“We shall.” he agrees and that provides a little bit of comfort. You smile again, but it seems subdued and suddenly, everything smells like you and Diluc buries his nose into your hair and hugs you back, tightly, desperately. Then you pull away ( and there it was again, the absence, the emptiness, the lacking of warmth ). 

“Every week?”

“Twice a week,” he promises and he intends to keep it. You chuckle, tugging at the hem of your sleeves. “I…” the words stay heavy in his mouth. You tilt your head. “I wish you a safe journey, then.”

You board the carriage and Diluc stays and watches it disappear into the distance, till it’s nothing but a speck. His chest feels like it’s torn apart. His lips tremble. Pathetic, he thinks bitterly. Pathetic.

( In the distance, you curl up on your seat. Mondstadt was far behind you.

You wish he asked you to stay. )

&& . kaeya alberich · ( maybe when he was less of a child ; he'll say it )

HE WAS A FOOL, Kaeya thinks. Foolish, utterly insane. 

But there was something in you he longs to touch, something that shone, that was beautiful — and he’d draw his hands back when he catches himself reaching out for it, he’d take a few steps back when he sees how he pursues you. He was a fool, he thinks again, because he was a coward. Because Kaeya does not know how to say he loves you. 

( Why did he love you, another face in the crowd? Why did he think he loved you, him, a runaway child from a nation with no god and no place in this world? Why did he love you, someone who was nothing like him?

Kaeya does not know, because he was a fool. )

It scares him, how you could undo everything with just a touch. You could look his way and everything would stop, and maybe somewhere the flowers bloomed or the rains in Fontaine stilled or a part of Dragonspine thawed over — a part of his traitorous little heart would thaw over. “Pull yourself together now,” he would sigh to himself in the silence of the room, under the noise of the bar. His eyes would immediately find you after. He wants to slap himself.

Kaeya wants to hate you. He wants to revile the smile on your face. He wants to ask you why you’re so easily holding that dagger over his chest with little knowledge of its sharp edge. He wants to listen to you hum under your breath. He wants to kiss your knuckles and laugh at his jokes. He wants you gone. He wants to tell you everything he feels about you, everything and anything.

But the thoughts stay to himself.

He greets you amiably, hiding away the painful thump in his ribs. 

He smiles away, masking the stutter in his voice, the tiny trip in his words, the tremble beneath the syllables.

His feelings stay hidden, another one of his secrets, something he would never disclose. No soul in Mondstadt would know of it, including you. Especially you. ( Because you dare, you dare to love him in return. You dare to light up when he stands in the same room, mirror his feelings in a way that didn’t seem twisted or wrong. )

Kaeya thinks that’s what scares him; his ability or lack thereof to keep those thoughts a secret How it felt so easy to open his mouth and let them come tumbling out into a messy pile that he’d rather not deal with. The feelings will leave, they will fade out and soon you’ll be another face in the crowd again, something of an ire but a fond memory. Kaeya was certain of it.

He still finds himself looking at you.

“Kaeya you fool.” he whispers to himself when his cheeks grow hot as you catch his gaze and you wave back at him. And the feelings stayed and they grew and they festered until it was the undeniable truth. He suffers in his silence, wrenching himself apart over his longing, over his wish to tear these feelings out of his chest with frustrated tears, with wanting to bask under the normalcy of you and the thoughts of something soft and loving.

He wants it to stop.

But Kaeya still pines, he watches from the corner of his eye, he vies for those moments of serendipity, he revels in those coincidental run ins, he takes in your similarities and differences, he wishes to meet your gaze and says he loves, to give you his heart just as you were ready to give yours. Kaeya wants those moments of sincerity in his ocean of lies, to witness you unfiltered.

But his lips stay sealed, the secret stays, hidden away amongst the countless others he holds and the lies he so seamlessly weaves. I love you, a part of him would yell when he says something else. I love you, please, I love you. But it stays muted, a pitiful noise in the background.

Because he was being foolish, because he does not know how to tell you he loves you, because Kaeya wants to touch something he knows he would only tear apart.

So he stays silent, for you.

( And maybe one day, he can smile and whisper those words into your ear beneath a ceiling. He could kiss you on the lips without the lies weighing him down. 

But not today. ) 

&& . zhongli | rex lapis · ( to love is to lose again ; is it worth it? )

ZHONGLI HAS LIVED too long to be capable of love.

The years have washed it away, to leave behind weariness. Grief had watered it down and hardened his heart and loss left behind its silt. Zhongli has lived too long to love anymore, because the grief still remains — it always remains, warping but constant. Because he was the aftermath of burnout, of a man torn by war and too many names crossed away from those who once lived. 

But a heart of stone is a heart nonetheless and the eyes of mortality drag him back down to earth ( because Zhongli never lost it. He never lost Guizhong’s teachings, nor did he lose the softness he once held for her. It simply stayed, waiting, waiting for another face that made him to stop, made him look, made him smile ). And he sees you one day, and something in his mind clicks.

You were meant to be a fond memory, a friend, someone who he cherished but not adored. You were meant to be someone appreciated at a distance, a soul who Zhongli would write into poetry in passing when your mortality takes you away. You were meant to be impermanent and fleeting ( a qingxing in bloom, a butterfly cupped within his hands ).

And then, Zhongli fell in love.

He fell in love with the ephemeral and time finally seemed to slow. The sunsets lasted longer, the moments of silence were drawn out, his hours at work seemed to span millenia. He sees himself facing a man less like Zhongli the rational, the even minded, the patient ( because the seconds feel too long now ) and more like Morax, hot blooded and hasty, who jumped at chances and lays out his contracts and strategies with cold tact ( Morax, who would do everything and anything to pull you to him, to sweep away for himself ).

It was strange and a little amusing and a little perplexing; seeing those years come undone by a single utterance of his name. 

But Zhongli was in love.

( And he was afraid of losing again. )

You were young, ready to face the world, ready for your future. You stood your ground with resolution, with stubbornness, and you were kind and eager and bold. “I think I might be in love with you.” you had admitted one day and Zhongli thinks about it after, over and over, every time his mind wanders, every time he thinks he sees you in the crowd and every time he shuts his eyes in leisure. 

Zhongli has lived a long time. Pain had worn him down, violence had weathered his gaze, blood stained his hands. 

And love taught him grief again. Love taught him the fears of losing a beloved. Love taught him what was soft but painful. Zhongli knows that one day you will be long gone and he will remain. Zhongli knows you would have to live with this knowledge, of his immortality, of him standing beside you as a memento mori.

( He could not hide from you, he could not hide away a secret so vast. Because love needed trust and trust was not hiding away his eternity. )

He looks into your eyes and he sees another face he might lose, the looming call of death, the thought in his head, if it was worth it, worth the heartbreak. Every rational thought telling him to pull away, to stop himself from cupping that butterfly close, to stop himself from taking your hand, from telling you he loves you too. Was it worth it? He asks himself, trying to envision a future without you, should he let himself be further ensnared; to experience a momentary high, this respite after years of battle. 

Should he tell you he loves you?

( Because he does, painfully so, passionately, sincerely, tenderly down to his very being, his very core. )

He looks into your eyes and he thinks it should be, and when you smile at him, he thinks he knows the answer.

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

requested by : @x-zho

*evil laughter* "die potato." "not today".

taglist — @x-zho, @dustofthedailylife, @deus-lapidis, @silentmoths, @nebulaera, @aestellia, @ofoceansandtombsanew, @meimeimeirin.

AINE © 2022. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

#FLOS ANTHALOGY - 100 FOLLOWER EVENT #&&. my writing !! #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader

[black-is-beautiful18]

Hozier be listening to Megan Thee Stallion, Flo Milli, and Bree Runway??? Yeah I definitely gotta stan now. We love a cultured man.

#hozier #unreal unearth is an amazing album by the way #that man be wailing and I feel it in my soul 😫 #megan thee stallion #flo milli #bree runway #unique writes

[roe-and-memory]

dont think about (redhead) lightning having freckles all over his face and arms, Dont think about sally counting them or connecting them with a pen and calling them stars and constellations and DONT EVER think about how fucking silly they are. dear god theyre so in love. i thought about them once and exploded into confetti.

#cars 2006 #lightning mcqueen #cars fandom #cars headcanons #memory’s headcanons #sally carrera #i love them so damn much its unbelievable #i need to write about them again maybe its christmas fic time #first time skating anyone? #(they kiss under the mistletoe at flo’s every time they are even in its vicinity) #salqueen #pixar cars

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

no but really I can't stop thinking about it. Holly losing her entire team. Lucy losing hers. Flo being apprenticed by people probably only a bit older than her and losing them as well. the three-way venn diagram of Holly/Lucy/Flo where you have Lucy and Holly falling through windows and Holly and Flo stranded alone beside their dead friends throughout the night and all three of them as sole survivors of their teams. the way this is almost a normal thing in this world. these three girls who are so, so different but so, so the same because they're wounded in the same ways and just reacted to it differently. Flo broke completely and had to build herself back up from the rubble. Holly turned to taking support roles, lacking in the connections she used to have. Lucy got angrier and more reckless and isolated herself so she wouldn't be the cause of more people dying. all three of them are alone-ish when we meet them and all three of them are in different stages of their character arcs with their survivor identifies as the inciting cause of those arcs. and by the end they're not alone anymore. and they're not afraid of the connection any longer, to each other, or to others.

#LUCY HOLLY FLO GIRLS' TEAMUP SHORT STORY WHEN???? #I'll write it if I have to. stick those girlies on a train and let 'em go crazy. #Lu rambles #INSANE ABOUT THEM. TRIFECTA OF SOLE SURVIVORS. MY BELOVED GIRLS. #L&c #Lockwood & co #lucy carlyle #holly munro #flo bones #meta finding tag

[caitkaminski]

My Double Trouble theory 👯‍♀️

Let’s just say i don’t think we’ve seen the only double act… ooh mysterious…

Ofc spoilers under the cut so read at your own risk. Nothings confirmed and I’m just guessing so feel free to laugh when I’m wrong

also, credit to @oliverslove and @sophie9608 for these leaked images

SO, anyone who’s dived into the islander leaks on @sophie9608 page has seen the Ozzy doppelgänger. It’s giving ‘ozzy wanted to know what was happening in casa so badly, he slapped on a bad disguise’. Seriously Ozzy the 2nd, what is that eyebrow slit???

but then I started thinking, well ozzy is in the double trouble poster, but so is Bella. Before the season we did say Oliver’s shirt man () looks like her. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. I’m onto you Roberto…

THEN, I started thinking even more (I’m a machine right after a coffee), has any other islander mentioned siblings so far? Mr Lewie has. Mr Lewie mentions he’s got a bunch of sisters and who looks like Lewie? Miss Flo, THATS WHO.

I’m not saying everyone’s got a twin but siblings?? This is possible but also Fusebox might just be lazy AF

maybe they’re just trying to save money on ‘meet the family’ plane tickets. Times are hard. Also, just because they look alike might not actually mean a thing, Ryan and Ivy are a couple in my play through so

I’m excited for the season!!

#I felt like Sherlock Holmes writing this #tbh my mc and Lewie already give siblings or dating so #litg #love island the game #litg s6 #litg double trouble #litg lewie #litg bella #litg ozzy #litg Marshall #litg flo #litg Roberto

[littlerequiem]

— wings of snow, wings of freedom ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

You teach Levi how to make snow angels. Turns out warm things can blossom in winter, too.

content — Levi’s POV, Snow & Winter, Fluff, Soft!Levi, Blushing, Kisses, Established Relationship, Mentions of Isabel and Furlan, Grief (wc: 1.4k) Please note that those living above the Underground are referred to as “upsiders”.

Crossposted on AO3.

Winters are a drag. Endless days of white, filled with the kind of cold that bites, and not nearly enough distractions to occupy restless minds. 

Levi hates winter. He hates the cold. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he grew up lacking sun or that he is, as doctors like to say, too scrawny—but he’s always fucking cold. This is his third year above ground, and he’s still not used to the changing weather. 

But you... you love winter. You get damn excited when the season comes.

There’s the first snowfall that gets you grinning like a cute goofball. There’s the first snowman you always build with Hange (this year, you made them look like titans—a pair of weirdos, the two of you are). There’s the hot drinks you always make on the first winter day, delivered to all Scout soldiers.

You love winter. 

This year is no exception.

“What's all of this?” Levi asks, face impassive as he stares at the strange sight that awaits him.

You, all joyful-looking, are laying in one of the empty training fields. A blanket of snow covers the landscape in broad daylight, painting the world in white. Snowflakes sprinkle down, and you try to catch them with your tongue, warm breath puffing out a veil that resembles gossamer.

How careless. What are you thinking, laying in the snow like this? You're going to catch a cold.

Yes, you're sporting a warm coat, and yes, you're wearing the green mittens Levi knitted for you (green is your best color, no doubt about it), but it's still fucking winter. This isn't the time to get sick.

But, as always, you pay his skeptical gaze no mind; you’re too busy moving your arms in up-and-down motion, ploughing through snow.

“I'm making snow angels,” you explain at last, voice dulcet like a winter melody. Curious eyes find him. “Have you ever made one before?"

A draft of wind stings Levi's face. He shivers.

"No."

This fact seems to peek your interest.

"Oh," you say, "then you must try it! Why don't you lay down and follow my lead?”

“No, thanks.”

Levi has no intention of getting his ass all wet. He's cold just looking at you.

And anyway, what is it with upsiders and their strange habits? He doesn't know a single person living in the Underground who would ever willingly lay on the cold, wet ground. Maybe Isabel—she would have liked snow. She was a kid after all... just a kid.

“C’mon, Levi, give it a try!” you insist. “This is fun.”

Levi huffs out a grunt. “This looks like the opposite of fun.” 

You perk up with your elbows. Snow clings to your hair. You look like you're wearing a crown of white.

“Please.”

You say that one word with a pleading gaze, all crinkled eyes and pouty mouth.

Cute. You think you can convince him with an act.

No such luck.

“No.” Levi is firm with his decision, crossing his arms over his chest.

You don't look bothered by his rejection, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Then you leave me no choice,” you declare.

Levi raises a brow.

Without giving him an explanation, you suddenly stand up. He frowns, muscles tensing as you saunter towards him. He knows what you’re about to do, he knows it and yet—

You surprise him by planting your plush lips on his own.

Oh.

You kiss him.

And as Levi tastes snow on your lips, he decides if there’s one thing he likes about winter, it’s the taste of you.

"You're so warm," you murmur against his lips.

Of course, Levi knows your sweet words are but a ruse in disguise. Soon, your hands settle on his forearms.

And you push him back, just as Levi thought you would all along. Levi lets you, because this snow and your damn playfulness somehow remind him of Isabel and Furlan, and how they never got to witness snow.

Still, just because he's allowed to be pushed doesn't mean that he doesn't intend to make you pay—oh no, if he's going down, he'll make sure to take you with him. He grabs your wrists, and the two of you topple backwards.

Levi is the first one to land on his back, the impact of the fall cushioned by the snow, and you follow him, falling right on top of him.

Snow stings his exposed hands, and he groans.

But then you’re giggling in his ear, your laughter chiming like bells, and Levi forgets all about how cold feels. Freckles of white weave around you, framing you like pale moonlight, and Levi thinks you could belong in a painting, all dressed in white.

Smiling, you bend down and drop a last kiss on the tip of his nose. Blood rushes to his cheeks, dusting them in a rosy hue, and you chuckle at the sight (Levi will later deny blushing at all—like hell one kiss gets him so flustered).

“Now, we're ready to begin,” you announce after you hop off him.

You sit next to him and tap the white ground.

“Follow my lead, 'Vi.”

Levi watches you through a lidded stare.

“What the hell is a snow angel, anyway?” he asks.

“I believe it's meant to be a human with wings.”

“That's not something that exists.”

You hum. “Well, it's an imaginary thing, you know? Like something kids grow up reading about in fables?”

“I wouldn't know.”

That's not entirely true. His mother used to tell him stories, only he was too young to remember them. He thinks her stories must have been full of light, just like she was.

Your gentle stare locks with his, almost as if you could read Levi's thoughts. “Then I suppose we have some making up to do, huh?"

Levi stays silent. He lifts his hand to your cheek, and he lets his caress speak for his gratitude. You smile, a true smile that makes your eyelids crinkle.

"You know, I think I may have found the perfect analogy." Snow crunches beneath you as you shift your weight around. "Think of snow angels like the Survey Corps. We Scout soldiers are the Wings of Freedom, right? So just imagine we're molding a shape into the snow... that of a human with wings."

Wings of Freedom.

Levi likes the idea. It's corny, sure, but it's cute.

It reminds him of—shit, of course it does—of Isabel and Furlan. Of their dreams to live above ground. How Levi is going to carry them for the rest of his days, his own wings propelling them forward.

And for the first time since their deaths, Levi doesn't feel entirely empty at the thought of them. Yes, the grief is there, it's always there... it'll always be present. But now, there is something more to it. There is all the love for them, all the love he never got to express, all the love that continues to manifest in their memories... and that part fills him with warmth.

“Ready for the lesson?" you ask.

Levi nods.

You start to move. "You're going to need to to move your hands and legs like this, see? Then it’s going to make it seem like you’re drawing a person with wings in the snow.”

“Do I look like an artist to you?”

You chuckle. “I promise, drawing isn't a skill you need to make snow angels. Anyone can do it, that's the beauty of it! Now, you try.”

Levi complies. He lays on the ground and stares at the muted sky—who knew winter skies could look so peaceful? Then, he begins to move his limbs in accordion.

And despite the snow, he finds he's no longer cold.

Finally, once you're both done making your angels, you stand up to look at your work. The angels are a patchwork at best, but they look like they’re holding hands, and you seem glad about that.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” you murmur. You've removed one of your mittens, and you slip your fingers between his own.

Levi stares, eyes softening.

“Yeah, pretty.”

Song insp: Everything I Know About Love by Laufey. Graphics made by me. Thanks for reading :))

— Masterlist / Join my taglist

Tagging: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x gn!reader #levi fluff #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi heichou #flo's oneshots #flo is writing . . .

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Hi Terra 🩵❄️ To get into the winter spirit, could I request a festive prompt with #11 - snowball fight for Levihan? ~

Festive Fics 11: Snowball Fight 

First Snow (Canon universe) Levi, Hange, Moblit, Erwin (Mentioned: Isabel Magnolia) 701 words

Leaving the warmth of the barracks behind him, Levi stepped out into the cold courtyard. In only the space of a few hours it had become a world transformed.  Snow lay in thick piles around the white stone walls. Above, the sky was as grey and empty as a blank slate. Whips of wind snatched up tiny flecks of snow like fallen stars and flung them to the earth. Low walls and withered tree branches were dusted with icing sugar sprinkled from the heavens. Levi’s feet remained frozen to the flagstones even as white whirled about him. As he looked up, flecks settled in his hair, gathered in force to coat the lapels of his black jacket. What had begun as light snow was now an audible pattering. And Levi could only stand and marvel at it, momentarily unaware of the cold as it seeped through layers of clothes to chill his senses. 

He had never seen snow before. Not like this. Living in a state of eternal dusk for all those years, trapped below in the city’s Underground, he and Farlan and Isabel had only ever caught the barest glimpse of it. The towering staircases which wound up through darkness towards the surface sometimes glinted with old snow. When it fell in the city above, it graced the top steps with the thinnest layer, turned colder by clear sunlight and breathed upon by clean air. He could recall, even now, how Isabel had stood on her toes beneath a great circle carved out of subterranean rock. Here, the light had shone down like a gilded halo; harsh and cold. At her feet the ground was dusted with a meagre offering. She had reached to catch the flakes as they fell, only for each one to melt and vanish as they touched her trembling hand…

Yards from where Levi stood, Hange was approaching. They had become distracted from their previous conversation, only half-listening to Moblit’s reply and leaving their deputy to readjust the heavy pile of books in his arms. Undoubtedly, Levi was a fascinating subject. They wondered what he was thinking in that moment as he lifted out an arm, palm upturned. Already the snow was settling upon his dark sleeve… and yet his expression was one of quiet wonder. Levi’s mouth opened, as though on the precipice of talking to someone who wasn’t there. Instead, his unspoken words coiled away in rings of mist.

Noticing Hange, he dropped his arm to his side. His features had once again become guarded; lips thinned, eyes narrowed. 

Then there came the sound of something cleaving the air. As he turned his head, Levi felt a movement of cool air skim the top of his ear. A wad of packed snow landed hard against the wall of the barracks.

Laughter carried across the frozen courtyard. One of the new recruits was stooping to scrape up more snow from the flagstones. A scout who had just opened the barracks’ door stood startled by the unprovoked blow which had so nearly narrowly missed his face.

“Tch…” Levi hissed through gritted teeth, “...making a damn mess out here…”

“Well Levi, perhaps we ought to teach them a lesson!” With that, Hange thrust the only book they were holding onto Moblit’s already impossible pile. Their deputy was left to totter as they bent down and scooped two handfuls of snow, just as the first recruit had done. Then, swinging their body around to face their attackers, they launched themself forward.

“Yahoo! Take that you punks!” Hange sent a snowball sailing through the air after them.

“...not bad.” 

Levi swept a mass of snow into his bare hands, passing it from palm to palm to alleviate its cold sting. Sprinting skillfully around patches of ice, he joined in the fray. With a horrified look of recognition at the young thug, Levi’s victims turned to retreat. Clumps of snow rained down upon their backs.

“And they say you’ve never received formal training? Simply amazing, Levi!”

Erwin, who had been watching the scene unfold from beneath the archway of the castle’s great, oak doors, smiled to himself.

“Well Levi, looks like your wings are the real deal after all.”

#I just had to start with this one after it snowed this week 😭 #and I couldn't help but think of the official art with Levi looking up at the snow #hope you like it Flo <3 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihan #moblit berner #erwin smith #isabel magnolia #attack on titan #snk #snow #festive fics #my writing

[ihni]

Patience

Written for @billyhargrovebingo, square A1; "A price I'm willing to pay".

Rated: G, Words: 1994

(On AO3)

~~~

Flo ran out of patience twenty years ago.

For eighteen of those years, she’s been working for Hawkins’ Police Department. People have come and gone during her time here, but she has remained, through thick and thin.

Besides Flo, Jim is the one who has been here the longest, with his five years. Calvin came in a year later, and Phil only started two years ago when his family moved to Hawkins from Montana.

This means that Flo has been here longer than the three of them combined, which gives her seniority. Sure, on paper they all outrank her, but in reality, she is the one who keeps things running around here and they wouldn’t dare cross her. They all know that Flo has no patience for bullshit.

Not anymore. Not since she threw her abusive piece of shit husband out on his ass twenty years ago, got a job, and managed to raise their three teenage sons by herself despite what everyone said about her behind her back.

Everything at the department runs smoothly, because Flo is in charge of it. The boys know better than to encroach on her territory, and have learned to ask her for the things they need rather than try to find them themselves and risk messing with her system. They’re fast learners, that way. Or maybe her glare is just that terrifying.

“I don’t think they’re afraid of you,” Harold said over breakfast one day when she mentioned it. “They’re simply showing you the respect you deserve, honey.”

Flo huffed and rolled her eyes at that, but Harold had only smiled serenely at her and put another sugar cube in his coffee.

Harold is, perhaps, the only person for which Flo will make an effort to be patient. They met years ago, but didn’t get together until all her sons were already grown up and had moved out, far from Hawkins. And even then, it was two years before Flo let him into her life fully.

All the patience that Flo lacks, Harold has in abundance. Enough to cover the both of them, he usually jokes.

She is thankful for him. He’s a good man. Not everyone is lucky enough to find themselves a good man – she knows that by experience.

Flo has a lot of experience. Which is why her eyes narrow when she walks into the station one morning to find a young man in handcuffs seated at Phil’s desk while Phil is rummaging around in the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.

The young man glances up as she passes him – he’s got a black eye with a swollen eyelid, and splotchy bruising on his jaw – but looks down again before she can meet his eye. Frowning, she walks up to Phil and clears her throat. To his credit, he only jumps a little and immediately backs away from the filing cabinet.

“I wasn’t ...” he starts, “I just needed an empty file.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks at him over the rim of her glasses as he gives a helpless little shrug. Without a word, she walks over to another cabinet where she keeps the empty files. He takes the one she hands him with a low “Thanks, Flo”, and walks back to his desk to deal with his young perp.

Flo listens in as she prepares for the day; brings in the morning paper, starts the coffee machine, goes through the agenda for the day, looks over the unintelligible scribbles that Phil – who had the night shift – calls notes. While she works, she listens to Phil as he talks to the kid – a Mr. William Hargrove, apparently.

It’s quiet in the station in the morning, and Flo hasn’t turned the radio on yet. She may be old, but there is nothing wrong with her ears and it’s not like the other two occupants in the room are talking in low voices. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. She’s the one who types out the reports.

The more she hears, the deeper her frown gets. When Jim finally shows up around nine, Flo intercepts him before Phil can catch his attention. She hands him a cup of hot coffee and pointedly doesn’t comment on the pastry crumbs in his moustache that show that he visited the bakery on his way to work.

“Jim, a word?” And Jim knows better than to cross her this early in the morning, so he accepts the coffee, nods, and gestures for her to lead the way into his office.

“That young man in there,” Flo says as soon as the door is closed behind them and points with her thumb over her shoulder. “Phil picked him up at the gas station outside of town around daybreak. He was slinking around the parking lot, and Phil caught him at the back door, holding a brick. Looking like he was trying to break in.”

“Okay?” Jim says, taking a sip of his coffee. He’ll be able to read this in Phil’s report later, so he’s probably wondering why Flo is telling him this.

She huffs. “The kid is beat up, Jim. He says he got in a fight but no one has made any calls about a fight tonight. There are no marks on his hands. He’s been sitting hunched-over since he got here. And you know what they sell at the gas station, besides gas and snacks?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

Luckily for her, and everyone else in town, their Chief is no fool. And he, too, has some experience with these things. His eyes clear in realization. “Pain pills. Basic first aid stuff.” She nods, satisfied that she doesn’t have to spell it out for him. “Who is he? I don’t recognize him.”

“New in town, apparently,” Flo says. “Name of Hargrove. The family moved in from California a week or so ago.”

Jim hums, and Flo knows that he’ll take what she has said into consideration when he inevitably talks to the boy, after he’s sent Phil home to get some sleep. It’s enough. She’s done what she can.

Or so she thinks, until she walks out of Jim’s office and sees that Phil is leading the young man towards the holding cells. The kid looks beaten down. Exhausted.

“Oh just leave the kid here,” Flo says and watches as both of them stop and turn towards her.

“Protocol states –“ Phil starts, but Flo huffs and waves it away.

“Since when do you care about protocol? Jim will want to speak to him soon anyway. I’ll look after him. You go home, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Phil knows better than to argue. Fast learners, the lot of them. He goes to exchange a few words with Jim before going off his shift, and leaves Flo and the kid alone. She gestures at the chair in front of Phil’s desk, the one he was sitting in before, and the kid sinks back into it. Flo knows she’s not imagining the wince as he’s sitting down. It’s gone in a flash, but it was definitely there.

She turns her back on him, only in part to give him a chance to compose himself. A minute or so later, she walks back to him and places a mug of coffee, a glass of water and two white pills on the desk in front of him.

He looks up at her, surprised. “What’s this?”

Inpatient, she gestures at the items. “What does it look like, kid?”

“I don’t need –“

She’s not about to get into a discussion with him, so she cuts him off. “I’m not forcing you to take them. Take them or don’t. Up to you.”

She turns her back again and leaves him to his own devices. She has her own work to do, after all, the phones won’t answer themselves and Mr. Thompson usually calls first thing in the morning to rant about whatever the neighbor’s kids got up to last night.

When she passes the kid next, the pills are gone and the water glass is empty. She’s glad to see it, even if she doesn’t say anything. The boy is holding the coffee cup with his handcuffed hands and taking small sips, grimacing at the bitterness of it. Flo probably should have offered him milk or sugar, but everyone at the station drinks their coffee black so it didn’t cross her mind.

She meant what she said, though. The kid can drink it, or not. His choice. She’s not his keeper.

She putters around the station while Jim speaks to the kid in his office. Talks a bit with Gail who is passing by with her dachshund, and waters the few spider plants that she has placed on the south-facing windowsills.

The kid emerges from the office uncuffed, with Jim following behind him.

“I’m driving Billy here back to his car,” Jim says, pulling on his jacket. “I’ll be right back. Hold the fort, will you?”

It’s a rhetorical question. He knows that she will.

She spends the time while he’s out typing out Phil’s near-illegible notes for the kid’s file, and adds a couple of details she heard them talk about that Phil forgot to write down. She’s done this for decades, she knows what details are important. She’s just finishing up when Jim comes back, this time alone.

He sinks into Calvin’s empty chair, which is the one closest to Flo’s desk. None of them speak for a moment, then Jim sighs. “I think you’re right.”

“I know,” Flo says, and hands him the boy’s newly typed-up file. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s not really anything I can …” He trails off when she levels him with an unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that, Flo. I am the Chief of Police, I have to follow the law. I can’t do anything if he’s not talking. And he’s not talking.”

She purses her lips. “They live over on Cherry, you know.”

He frowns, suspicious. “So?”

“I have a friend who lives on Cherry. Ruth. I haven’t visited her in a while.”

Jim groans. “No, Flo. I’ll keep an eye on the family, okay? You don’t have to get involved again –“

“Who said anything about getting involved? I just think it’s about time I visited my good friend Ruth. We haven’t talked in ages. Maybe she has some new gossip for me. About her new neighbors.”

Running his hand down his face, Jim groans again. “Please, Flo.”

“It’s a small town. It’s important to get to know your new neighbors, after all. As a representative for the Police Department, perhaps I should go and say hello.”

“You’re killing me,” he says under his breath, standing up with a grunt. “I’ll make some calls to an old colleague in California. Happy?”

She levels him with a look and raises her eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She does, and they both know it. She’s also not going to let it go. They both know that, too.

“This is gonna blow up in my face somehow, I know it.”

As Chief of Police his hands are tied in a way that hers aren’t. Going through the right channels is just too slow-moving for her. She doesn’t have that kind of patience.

So she shrugs. “That’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Of course it is,” he mutters. “Because you won’t be the one paying it.”

“Excuse me?” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Who does all the paperwork around here?”

He inclines his head as if to say ‘fair’, and then adds, “Fine. You win. But if you happen to go and say hello, please take Harold with you. At least he has a sense of tact.”

She glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. Harold will want to come with her, anyway, when she tells him about the boy.

#billy hargrove #flo #stranger things #billy hargrove bingo #ihni writes #listen i just like flo okay #i think she is a gruff old woman who is anything but cuddly #but is efficient and caring in her own way

[solticeenery]

"Lockwood!" Lucy screams when a big grey, black and white ball of fur rolls down the stairs, kind of squeaks and rushes between her feet somewhere under the couch.

"What's wrong, Luce?" Anthony asks leaving his sister's room and closing the door behind him.

"What. Is. This?" she hisses pointing in direction of living room.

"What exactly?" Lockwood smiles cautiously not knowing what to expect. They are officially dating for a year now, but he's still confused and a bit scared, when Lucy is so angry. He slowly approaches her, keeping the distance between them. Just in case Lucy decides to throw something like she sometimes does when she's pissed. And she definitely looks like that right now. "If you... Specify the problem, we can come up with some kind of solution."

Lucy sighs heavily, trying to calm down, and reminds herself, that Lockwood isn't always the one and only reason of every single disaster happening here. George can be responsible for it not less than Anthony himself. Sometimes it's just Kipps with his concerning but harmless sense of humour. Maybe there's apocalypse coming, because Holly suddenly decided to make fun of them. There are variations of what exactly happened. That's why Lucy takes a deep breath and starts again.

"Anthony, my dear, why is there a raccoon in our house?" she definitely doesn't have any strength left to control the way she addresses Lockwood, when everyone is in the kitchen and can hear every single word. Excluding Holly, she's probably in the office sorting some papers.

"A what..?" Lockwood is obviously startled. "Luce, I'm not sure if I heard you loud and clear, could you please repeat?"

"Sure!" nervous laughter escapes her lungs. "There is a raccoon in our house and I'd like to know, why is it there. To be more specific, under the couch in living room."

"Nope, I heard everything right on first try, a raccoon, ha-ha, okay, whatever, w h a t. T h e. F u c k ?! I beg your pardon but I don't have other words right now?"

"Don't worry, hon, me too" Lucy smiles, relieved, that Lockwood has nothing to do with this incident, and comes to him just to snug in his arms for a second as an apology for shouting at the most precious person in her entire life. He holds her gently, buries his face against her neck and takes a slow deep breath, presumably processing the existence of raccoon on Portland Row 35. Not an easy type of acceptance, but they don't have a choice. First and foremost because Lucy can already guess, whose brilliant idea it was. Flo (please burn in hell) Bones.

No, she does like Flo when she is helpful, but otherwise Lucy prefers to avoid her as much as possible. Mostly because she doesn't like relic-men whoever they are and however useful they can be. She already learned that it's easier when relic-girl stays out of her sight and doesn't bother her with some stupid jokes and meaningful gazes. Lucy has had enough. The Skull overdid all possible norms in first months of her and Lockwood dating.

"So... Who are we interrogating now? George? Quill? Holly?" Lucy tilts her head and rests it on Lockwood's shoulder, admiring their perfect height difference.

"Uh... Whatever you wanna ask, I don't know anything?" sound of Holly's voice makes her shiver a bit and turn around. And see that their assistant just came to work. "Sorry, I know, I'm late, I..."

"It's alright, Holly," Lockwood says softly and calmingly squeezes Lucy's shoulder. "Just don't enter the living room until I allow it, okay?"

"Okay?" Holly is obviously confused and looks at the room uncertainly. "May I ask why?"

"There is a raccoon under the couch," Lucy answers and an expression of pure shock and disbelief on Holly's face is just adorable and worth every inch of this ball of fur.

"A what now? Raccoon?! How?!!"

"If only we knew. But I have an idea," Lockwood giggles and raises his voice. "George! Could you please come for a second."

The chatter in the kitchen suddenly stops and not long after George appears in the hallway with a mug of tea. Lucy can spot Kipps behind him, sipping his morning coffee and definitely eavesdropping.

"Morning," George yawns. "What has already happened?"

"A raccoon happened!" Holly answers instead of Lockwood. "Who left the backdoor opened? You? Or Quill?" Kipps freezes. They all once saw, how angry Holly can be and how dangerous for everyone else it is. Enough to say, that noone wanted to be the target of Holly's anger. It was scarier than all types of ghosts together in one room.

George blinks couple times. Looks at the couch. Frowns, when he hears some suspicious noises underneath it. And suddenly bursts into laughter.

"Oh, you mean Charcoal!" the noises stop, and a small black nose shows up between two blankets, sniffing. "Come here, boy, it's okay." The raccoon rushes into George's open arms, hides its fluffy head under his chin and silently cries. "Yeah, yeah, I know, she can be rude, don't blame her."

"I bet you won't survive the night," Quill shakes his head. "Either Holly or Lucy are gonna kill you."

"Nah, c'mon, Charcoal is too cute, who's gonna look after him, if I'm gone?"

"Flo," Kipps shrugs. "She brought this fur ball here 'till tomorrow morning, and I'm looking forward to her taking this monster away."

"So relic-girl it is," Holly sighs, rolls her eyes and goes to the kitchen to make some tea for them. And Lucy can already guess on that annoyed-angry look on Holly's face that neither Kipps nor George get their mugs refilled. Not as if it bothers them. Not as if Lucy or Lockwood want to disagree with their assistant.

"So... Are we done for now?" George asks burying his face in raccoon's fur.

"Ew, how can you do that?" Lucy grimaces. "He probably was digging in the trash lately. I wouldn't be surprised I mean, it's Flo we're talking about."

"I bathed him this morning! He's clean!"

"You know what, Lockwood," Holly says coming back to the doorway, "I'm cleaning your bathroom with bleach and vinegar today. Or better. George, you are making it, I don't want to know where this fluffy devil was and what could it bring on him."

"Agreed," Lockwood chuckles and turns to Lucy. "We have to meet the client today, don't you mind if I use your bathroom? I don't want to risk my pretty face getting peeled off after Charcoal's presence."

"Oh, sure," Lucy smiles. "I don't want you to risk it either."

She expects George to say something to it, something sarcastic and funny, but the silence is so loud and Lockwood's grin is so sly that it takes some time untill she understands what did her friends hear in these words.

"Yeah, take your time I suppose," George waves his hand. Lucy can see Kipps biting his lips in desperate attempt not to die from laughter. And Holly just sighs heavily.

"I expect both of you to get down to the front door at the noon. Maybe earlier if you manage it, but not later."

Lucy narrows her eyes ready to answer something sarcastic but Lockwood just pulls her upstairs, winking to the others. As soon as they close the door to her room, Lockwood throws his arms around her waist and gently pushes his forehead against hers.

"You can't kill them, Luce."

"Yeah, yeah, as if you would ever allow it."

"Or injure them in any way."

"Not even nudge someone?"

Lockwood frowns, thinking. "George. For the raccoon. He deserves it. But noone else."

Lucy wants to remind him, that he also doesn't like whenever their friends are joking about their relationship. But his soft warm lips meet hers, and in an instant the world stops existing. They won't be ready at the noon, of course Holly understood it.

The last thought Lucy can catch before loosing herself in Lockwood's arms is that maybe — just maybe — she should thank Flo for bringing Charcoal at their place. Because she definitely heard the most awaited words whispered against her lips.

"I think my last name suits you better."

And Lucy can deny it.

It surely does.

#lockwood and co #headcanon #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #why is it so difficult to write in foreign language #my brain is broken sos #this grammar makes me crazy #yes it's a raccoon #i love raccoons #Flo is the main shipper in this house and you can't change my mind #fanfic #fanfiction #locklyle fanfiction

[wexhappyxfew]

— Florence ‘Flo’ Godfrey —

"Nah, nah, nah, I swear to you back in '36 a buddy of mine was trying to convince the hell outta me that he could fly planes," Benny said, with a chuckle, before leaning forward and watching her eyes with that tender gaze, "and you know what I told him? I told him right to his face that's what I'd be doing! Hell, I told him if there was a war on, I'd be right there signing up for that very thing. And well....here I am."

"Here you are." Flo said with a soft smile his way. Benny grinned at her and then shifted closer to her side before glancing up at the darkening sky and smiling.

"You always go up there and it's the things you don't expect." he said, his smile dropping, "You see the sky from here, think it's just like it is down here. Nah, it's...." Benny trailed off and glanced towards her.

"It's different." Flo felt the silence close in around them and then turned to watch his eyes.

He was quiet.

Benny DeMarco was never really quiet, just at peace.

But tonight, he was quiet.

They'd spent some time together - away from flying planes, patching up planes....planes in general. If anything, it was finding a comfort in one another that they couldn't find with anyone else. And they always found a way to confide in things they couldn't quite understand.

Usually she was adorning her clothes, still mildly disgusting from her time working on the planes - a grease spot there, the dried paint around the edges of her sleeves, her hair looking more like a rat's nest.

And he was there, pulled out of his pilot's gear and instead with his slacks, top and a nice jacket, usually with the lopsided peak cap.

Sometimes it was the two of them, after he'd finished a mission, looking far more exhausted than she could account for, dried blood on his face, hair all over in directions she couldn't count and shaky hands, Meatball curled up at their feet nestled close to each other.

That usually included Flo looking as always - gangly, but smiley and quite herself.

(more to come for this excerpt!)

#FLOOOO #my beloved !!!! #florence ‘flo’ godfrey #bernard demarcooo #benny demarco #flo x benny #was working on this piece a week ago and was tackling it again today #might post the whole thing in the coming weeks #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #these twooooo #very fun to dig in and write their connection :) #please enjoy the moodboard - it is so so flo !!!!! #mota fic