Press Four For More Options. | Part Three.

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

GAHHH OMYGOSH WEEKLY UPDATES!! are we gonna get a levi and greenie scene in this chapter?? 🥺

definitely!

---

taglist: @carries-blenders-and-stuff @kyr0k0 @heartsforlevi @thvunaise @thecrowestnest13 @queenofthepieraids @l0velymia @halibanana @manicur3d @hiqhkey @topmeyelena @domfikelover911 (i know it's been so long idk if u guys still wanted to be tagged but i had the taglist so i'm dropping it just in case <3)

[3] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 3: Ten Things I Hate About You

WC: 7,455 Chapter Warnings: flashback, drinking, college sassy levi, fluff? Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Let's all pretend the update didn't take a year. I think this chapter can be read as a stand alone if you want to read college Levi. ^^

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

You had a plan. 

College means endless possibilities. College means that you’re free from your family. College means that you can finally focus on yourself. College means that you could finally make friends. To set this plan of making lifelong friendships in motion, you figured that the first step was to attend an actual party. A messy party with booze, beer pong, and unsupervised new adults like the ones you see in movies. The thought of  it was enough to make you feel uneasy and dizzy enough to actually vomit before even stepping a foot inside the horrible place. But hey, it wouldn’t be so bad, right? 

You’re in the middle of drinking (or at least pretending to) with a few fellow freshmen girls you met. They looked pretty. Really pretty. With luscious hair, long lashes, and glossy lips that were in contrast to the extent of how much you could fix yourself with a brush, a lip and cheek tint, and an eyebrow pencil. 

You weren’t really following the conversation very much, just chiming in with a few words and chuckle here and there. They were talking about boys, a topic you were not excited for. You’re only here to make friends, you can’t fathom jumping to getting acquainted to testosterone-filled human beings so soon. That hasn't even crossed your mind. 

A call to your name snapped you out of your worries. Your heart beats faster. Oh shit. They were gonna ask you something. Your relationship history, maybe? It’s fine. You can just say you haven’t dated anyone. It won’t be weird. A lot of people actually stay single throughout high school. So what if you’re a virgin? That’s a social construct. It’s fine. Yeah. Just act chill.

“What about you? What’s your type?” 

Oh. 

You chuckled awkwardly, eyes frantic and you held your canned beer tighter. You didn’t expect that question. This entire situation is beginning to feel like a job interview. Fuck. What is your type? Even you yourself don’t know that. Fuck. They’d find me weird if I say I don’t know or I haven’t thought about it, right? 

You look around, looking at the men to decide right then and there what attracts you the most. 

For fuck’s sake, just pick anything or anyone, you tell yourself. 

And then you spot someone familiar. He’s standing against the wall, holding a cup to his chest, chatting with a guy much taller than him. From the looks of it, he isn’t enjoying the party that much. He was probably dragged along into it. 

For reasons you don’t even know yourself, you panic and point to the steel-eyed man with the undercut. 

“Him,” you raise your voice a little to make them hear you beyond the booming top hits music. 

Levi Ackerman. 

He was from your highschool. A famous slacker with high grades. Well, not as high as yours but given his misdemeanor and laziness, it’s actually commendable how he got into this university. You don’t actually like him like that. You barely even spoke to him. Just call it a moment of weakness—you panicked and pointed to the first familiar person you saw and that was him. 

“Hm. He’s hot. A little on the shorter side but very hot.” One of the girls nodded and winked at you. You chuckled as a response and chugged down your beer in frustration. The alcoholic drink is bitter on your tongue. You don’t like it very much and you don’t understand the hype around the bitter drink but due to the lie you just spat out, you couldn’t help but feel thirsty. 

Feeling someone’s eyes burning holes behind your head, you turned your head back in Levi’s direction. He was looking at you and your companions. From the looks of it, he had heard what your conversation was about. He pushed himself off the wall and you wondered what he’d do. Maybe he’d walk over to you and confront you about it? 

Well, he didn’t do that. Instead, he did the most ridiculous thing. 

Levi, that motherfucker, flipped you off and intentionally walked out of your sight with a pointed glare.

Fortunately, your potential friends didn’t see, having been too caught up in their next topic that you weren’t able to follow. Your mouth gaped open, shocked and offended at Levi’s reaction. A wave of embarrassment runs through you. Did you just get harshly rejected by that asshole? Was he like this to everyone who he hears has a crush on him? No wonder you didn’t hear anything about him dating back in high school. What an arrogant prick. 

The rest of the first semester of University was easily spent out of the sight of the steel-eyed man. The university was big enough for the two of you not to cross paths. It wasn’t until you found a job in the middle of the semester as a server in a restaurant in Paradis that fate decided that Levi was to be thrusted into your life again. 

Kuchel’s used to be a small restaurant famous in Paradis City.

Kuchel, the kind woman who owns it, was kind enough to hire you and treat you like her daughter. The work was tasking but it paid you enough to live well. Your grandmother’s savings could only take you so far and you had food, school supplies, and commute fees to worry about. Yes, you still lived with your grandmother. That was a choice. Your stupid father up and went when you started high school, disappearing to god knows where, leaving you in your grandmother’s care. Your grandmother was living well enough, not quite rich but had enough to be living in a small house in Paradis. She’s lived here all her life, generations of your family owning that lot and home. Even if she insisted that you try out the dorms, you still wanted to check up on her and just commute every day. 

You loved your grandmother’s food but holy shit… Kuchel is amazing. Her food is to die for. A lot of big people in Paradis would come by and give pretty good tips. 

The first time you saw Levi there, he greeted you with an insult to your cleaning. 

“So, you’re the new hire. Ma should be thinking twice before hiring incompetent college students.” He said. He glanced under the counter of the cashier where you just finished cleaning, swiping his two fingers there. He then frowned at the thin layer of dust that coated the pad of his fingers, showing them to you after. 

You froze by the doorway of the supply room but not because of his disappointment or his unprovoked insult. He had always been rude to you for some reason. You don’t know why and it bothered you to the core for some reason. 

“Levi Ackerman,” you nod at him, intentionally ignoring his words. You got back to working, doing inventory of the supplies like you’re supposed to. 

He states your name back and you were a bit surprised he knew it. You guessed it was because you were always top of the class. Still, he has a good memory, doesn’t he? 

“You should know how to clean better.” He retracted back to his opening statement. You huffed, eyes only on your checklist. 

“Duly noted, Ackerman,” you replied impassively, not sparing him another glance. 

He didn’t reply after that, leaving to greet his mother inside the small staff room. His mother had warned you about this happening. She said Levi is unbelievably strict about cleanliness and if he ever comes by, he will definitely have something to say about your cleaning. You can get past him calling out your cleaning skills but to call you an incompetent college student? That’s just below the belt. 

To make it short, the first few interactions you had with Levi Ackerman didn’t set you two up for friendship, much less a relationship.

It was only when you met Hange Zoe, the star-eyed girl from the Science department who often stopped by Kuchel’s to eat dinner. She’s one of your classmates in Philosophy class that would ask the most ridiculous (but valid) questions to the professor that never fails to make the class either curious or laugh. 

Hange Zoe was a curious delight and you were only thankful that being friends with her only mainly requires listening to whatever she was working on at the moment. And you did… most of the time. What can you say? You were a good listener. In a short amount of time, you found yourself gravitating next to her more than the other people you were hanging out with. Hange just made you feel safe and content. The others were nice but with others, you felt like you were always on your toes, just constantly adjusting your personality to relate with them. 

Hange began to have dinner with you during your break at Kuchel’s and if you two had time after, you’d study together too. Unlike you, Hange comes from a province with dreams of being a biologist. You never would’ve guessed as she seemed to be more adapted to city life than you who lived there all your life. When you told her that, she told you that she would often travel to  see some few friends here way before college started. 

Imagine your shock when the said friends dropped by one night at the restaurant.

Levi Ackerman and Erwin Smith sat in front of you at a booth one night, the former scowling at the confirmation that the girl Hange was meeting every night in his mother’s restaurant was indeed the annoying new hire. When Hange sensed the tension, she immediately nudged you and motioned to the two of you.

“Do you two know each other?” Hange asked, raising a brow excitedly. 

Levi scoffs, as if offended. “No.”

“Yes,” you reply at the same time as him. 

The tension only grew, the two of you glaring at each other like there were no other people sitting in your booth. There was no other person that ticked you off like the boy who had a perpetual scowl on his face. You still didn’t know why he’s so pissed at you since that incident at the party. Was it because your companions called him short? That wasn’t your fault. And it was kind of true, anyway. Not that you would say that to his face. His height, or anyone’s height, is the least of your concerns.

Smirking, you continued to piss him off. “He’s my crush.” 

Hange gasped and Erwin, the tall blonde stranger, stared at Levi in amusement. 

“Shut up.” Levi almost raised his voice in a rush to shush you. His face became red at his friends’ stare as he sent a dagger to your face while leaning a little bit, making you softly get out a short laugh.

“I’m kidding. Not anymore. He rejected me.” You tease him further, spewing some half-truths to keep them intrigued. 

“What? Levi!” Hange reached over to smack his arm lightly. Erwin was laughing now, shaking his head. Even in amusement, you realize poise is instilled in him.

“I said shut up,” Levi repeated, an embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks as he crossed his arms. “Tsk,” he adds, looking away from you.

You shrug. “Well, it’s fine. Really,” you tell the other two at the table. Levi grunted and turned his head to the side, muttering something inaudible to anyone. You paid it no mind, wanting to chat up the other guy at the table. 

“So, Erwin,” you change the topic to learn more about the blonde who had an incredibly straight posture. Seriously, the moment he sat down, towering over you even when seated, your body felt the urge to snap your spine into a straight line and correct your irreparable slouching.

With one question, you had Erwin talking about his academics and achievements. You were instantly captured by how he presents himself. He’s everything you wanted to be. Confident, smart, and approachable. You couldn’t help but be like a moth drawn to a flame. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to be just like him. 

Before you knew it, the dinners with Hange and her best friends included lunches too. Then, it extended to hang outs in and outside campus. Eventually, the four of you were inseparable. The newest member of the university-wide student council, the crazy biology student, the short handsome grumpy campus crush, and you. 

“Levi!” Hange hollered, skipping while hand in hand with you.

“Babe!” You waved at Levi who was already scowling at the sight of you two. The crush thing eventually became an inside joke in your friend group with you constantly flirting with Levi in hopes of seeing his flushed but annoyed face. 

The university Christmas celebration is an end-of-the-semester celebration. It’s a tradition that the school is famous for. The hottest artists in the country are invited, booths of food and stores are invited in, and the best thing? It’s exclusive to the students and alumni of Paradis University only. 

The first Christmas festival at Paradis University, you spent it with your new friend group. 

When the two of you reached the pair, Erwin wrapped his arms around you in a friendly manner when he greeted you while Hange forced Levi into a hug. You don’t do the same. Only Hange can do that to Levi because literally no one can stop the girl. You give Levi a nod when you pull away from Erwin’s hug. 

“Hey, babe. Looking good.” You greeted Levi while your eyes went over his outfit. He wore a long sleeved turtle neck, a gray flannel, and slacks. 

“Tch.” He looks away uncomfortably, pink tinting his cheeks and the tip of his nose caused by the cold and your teasing.

The festival was as fun as the upperclassmen said it would be. You tried the fake tattoos, the snacks, and even got glow sticks as bracelets. (Hange had to force the bracelet on Levi’s wrists.)

As the night fell, the four of you were cramped with the other students in front of the stage because Hange insisted that she just had to see her favorite band nearby, much to Levi’s protests. 

You could easily be relaxing on a picnic mat still on the field but a little further away from the stage. Instead, you and Levi are squished together, no space between the two of you as the most awaited local pop band starts their set. Erwin and Hange were somewhere in front of the two of you, the taller two of your friend group probably had worked their way to the front of the crowd much easier. They unintentionally left you and Levi together amidst Hange’s effort to push herself through the crowd while using Erwin as a blocking sled. 

Somewhere at the start of the set, you notice Levi’s irritation. He isn’t really enjoying the lack of space. A little bit concerned, you leaned over to his ear. 

“Hey! You alright?” You asked, raising your voice so he could hear you over the booming music of the speakers. He turns his head, flinching to find your face so close to his but he calms immediately. 

“I’m fine,” he responds though his nostrils are flaring and his eyes are frantic, looking around the crowd. The rock band was starting to play their best streamed song and before they did, they asked the people to jump to the music when they asked to. 

You looked around, there was more crowd coming and you were near the stage already. Leaving now would be impossible. 

“Loosen up! It’s gonna be fine,” you tell him so he could relax. It was simple advice from a friend to a friend, if that’s what you two even are. 

Without thinking too much about it, you grabbed Levi’s hand. “Hey! Jump with me so we won’t lose each other.” You tell him, closing your fingers around his palm. He stares at you with wide eyes but the crowd screamed, distracting you to look at the stage before you can say anything else. 

He didn’t protest and clasped his hand around yours too. As the chorus part of the song came on, you found yourself jumping with the crowd while holding Levi’s hand. It was a fun mess. You haven’t had fun like that ever. You moved with the crowd, not even minding that Levi wasn’t jumping with you. 

In the back of your mind, you feared that you’ve gone too far by holding his hand. But you were having too much fun and if he didn’t want to, he could easily let your hand go. Besides that worry, there’s also this warmth creeping from your stomach to your cheeks as you raved with the crowd, singing along to the song. You couldn’t look at Levi. You don’t know why. You spared him a few glances but he was only staring ahead, a small smile on his face. He doesn’t seem to be as uncomfortable as earlier. 

When the band finished the song, the adrenaline dwindled down and you were heaving. You laughed and finally worked up the courage to look at your companion to check on him, your hands still clasped together. Just as you turned your head, ironically, the band started playing their famous slow love song and as the first line of the lyrics dropped, your eyes landed on him. 

He was already looking at you. 

His stare held yours in place, making you freeze in time. 

Side by side, you stand next to each other. The first thing you noticed is how his silver eyes sparkled under the moonlight and the glowing lights. The next thing is how his face uncharacteristically softened and relaxed, the creases on his forehead were absent and his mouth was no longer pressed into a thin line. Instead, his pink lips were slightly parted. 

Everyone around you seemed to blur. The loud music from the speakers was drowned out in your brain. You could only stare at him. It’s as if you two are actually seeing each other for the first time. And you are. 

Your cheeks heaten up as the weird feeling in your stomach is something you finally identify as butterflies. 

“Y-you okay?” You leaned to his ear as you were finally able to gather yourself. 

When you look back into his eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He only nodded, clearing his throat and looked back at the stage. 

As the band continued their set, he never let go of your hand. You didn’t either. Even when the band moved on to their livelier songs, you moved with the crowd with Levi still holding your hand. Even when the crowd loosened up, the two of you never moved away from each other, keeping the small distance between the two of you.

When the set of the band came to an end, Hange and Erwin quickly found you two. And as if there was a gravitational pull, it was like the two of you never shared an odd moment of intimacy. 

Glancing at Levi as Hange spoke about how the lead vocalist shook her hand, you take a glance at Levi who was doing anything to avoid your eyes. He’s looking around again. Probably to see if he can squeeze his way out of the crowd now. 

“Oh—oh! There you two are! We should take a picture!” Hange jumps in excitement, not even noticing the tension between the two of you. She had already put up her camera, waiting for the three of you to pose. 

You looked up and threw up a peace sign, smiling sweetly. Hange was in front, holding up the camera. Erwin was behind her a little. To compress, you shift closer next to Levi who was next to Erwin. When Hange was one second away from clicking, Erwin took it upon himself to wrap his humongous arm around the two of you, his hand landing on your shoulder and pulling you even closer to Levi, making your face squish to Levi’s. 

As the picture clicked, Levi wasn’t subtle with his protests, his palm pushing up Erwin’s chin to push him away and letting the two of you go. 

“Nobody cares about fucking personal space out here,” he muttered. You only chuckled, looking over Hange’s shoulder to see the picture. 

The picture that came out was funny. Levi was clearly uncomfortable with how your cheeks are squished together. He was in the middle of cringing, face scrunched up in disgust. On the other hand, your eyes are wide in surprise and about to gasp. Hange and Erwin were grinning wide and unbothered. You liked it but you wouldn’t admit that.

“What the hell. Let’s take another one! I look like shit,” you complained. 

You took another one with the four of you. This time, it was simple. Erwin held up the camera, making the angle much further than the last. There was no need to squeeze together. (Not like there was a need earlier. Erwin’s just a dick.)

“That’s better,” you say. You can’t wait to show it to your grandmother. 

“Yeah, only if someone would wipe that frown from his face.” Hange side-eyed Levi. 

And then an idea popped into your head. You can take pictures with them individually. That would be fun to show to your grandma. She’s been dying to get to know your friends.

“Hange, we should take a picture!” You ask her and Hange squealed a yes, pushing Erwin to take the picture for you who happily obliged, even holding up Hange’s camera like a father with both hands on the horizontally angled device, leaning forward with his ass in the air. 

Hange put her arms around you and you did the same. You pressed the side of your foreheads together. With your free hands, you both put up a thumbs up. Then a heart. Then a peace sign. 

After multiple pictures with Hange, you asked for one with Erwin too. The taller man put his arm around your shoulder and you slid your arm around his waist. As you successfully dragged the two to a picture with you, your eyes shifted to Levi who was watching by the side. You give him a look.

“Fuck no.” Levi told you, moving away when you got closer to him.

You frowned, grabbing his arm to pull him back. “Come on! Consider it my Christmas gift from you.” 

“I wasn’t planning on giving you anything,” he grumbled. 

Hange was already ready to take the picture. Realizing it’s better to be over with it before Levi runs away again, you posed. You don’t put your arms around him or pull him closer, afraid that he might not appreciate the lack of personal space. Instead, you decided to stick with smiling and forming half a heart with your hand. Levi doesn’t complete it, of course. He crossed his arms, glaring at the camera when it clicked. 

That photo was the first photo you had with Levi Ackerman. And that same photo was framed and is now somewhere in a box that’s hidden deep in your closet. 

As you get ready for work the next morning, you stare at the stack of boxes in your closet. Right at the bottom of it lies a memory lane you haven’t traveled in forever. You couldn’t. Not anymore. 

With a heaving sigh, you close your closet door and head over to work. 

Work was okay enough. You can definitely see yourself working with ODM for a long time. If you can patch things up with Levi, maybe you can accept the regularization offer without any guilt. If that doesn’t happen, you can just ignore each other or go back to Trost. You’re sure you can work something out to have Vanessa accept you again. 

You do not like Levi Ackerman. 

How could you? He’s grumpy. He’s rude. He’s lazy unless he’s cleaning. He doesn’t have any dreams. How could you like someone like him? 

However, ever since you got home after the christmas university event, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked under the moonlight. The way it hit his gray eyes and how his cheeks looked so soft. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and how the two of you never spoke about that moment you shared back there. There was definitely something different in the air that night. Yeah. That must be it. It was probably the lack of space and oxygen that made you believe the funny feeling in your stomach are butterflies. 

So, no, you do not like Levi Ackerman. Not like that anyway. Maybe you’re finally seeing him as a friend? Besides, if you’d have a crush on a friend, it’d be Erwin. 

“Whatcha thinking of, Greenie?” Hange asked as she plopped herself on the couch next to you, handing you a cup of a drink they mixed. You’re at some party hosted in a club a little bit away from campus. You should probably be doing better things than attending a christmas frat party but somehow, Hange dragged the three of you along “for the experience,” as she said. 

“Nothing,” you reply, sipping from the red cup. You immediately winced, contemplating whether to spit the drink out or swallow it. You went with the latter but not without making a disgusted face. “Fuck. What’s in this?” 

“I mixed it,” Hange laughed maniacally. 

Your mouth parts as you look at her and you nod. That makes sense, you think. You look down at the color of the drink, unable to identify just what color it is under the lighting of the party. “This shit’s fucking poisonous, Hange. Were you planning to kill me?” 

“Yeah, drop that. Here.” 

Levi suddenly appears with Erwin, standing next to you and handing you a can of a fruit flavored beer. 

Like a dumbass, your mouth gaped and your cheeks heated up, realizing that he’s finally here. You accept the cold beverage, not missing how your fingers lightly grazed his. 

“Thank god,” you grumbled, setting down the cup on the side table of the couch. 

“Hey, there was a free table of alcohol! Sorry, I got too excited.” Hange says and drinks from her cup, somehow finding it bearable, knowing her, maybe even delicious. You cringed at the sight until Levi pushed her forehead up with a finger, pulling her mouth away from the drink.

“This is a frat party, Hange. God knows what they put in there. Only get your own sealed drinks. Preferably bought by our group.” Levi scolded and snatched the cup away from Hange. He picked up yours too and walked away. 

Hange pouted beside you and stayed silent. No one said anything because it wasn’t too long until Levi came back, no longer holding the cups. He must’ve thrown them away properly. 

You feel that odd feeling in your stomach again. He might’ve looked annoyed—maybe even belittling but the worry in his face is evident. There’s this… safety that you feel the more you hang out with him. A feeling of being cared for that made you feel comfortable, a state that you find both refreshing and uneasy. 

Suddenly, Levi pushed you sideways, forcing you to scoot and let him sit. You glared at him but gave him space, anyway. He sits down, the space only enough for your thighs to touch. His denim pants are rough against your bare legs that were exposed by the skirt you were wearing. 

“Hello to you too,” you told him off and he ignored you, looking around the club. Erwin perched his ass down at the edge of the couch right on the hand rest, loosely wrapping an arm around Levi’s shoulders.

“Should we do shots?” Erwin asked suddenly, looking at the three of you. You shake your head. 

“I saw the menu. One bottle of vodka is my salary at Kuchel’s for a damn week.” You’re not gonna waste your money on alcohol. Though you have to admit that it’s one thing you want to try at least once in your life. 

“It'll be my treat,” Erwin suggested and Hange immediately hollered and shouted a yes to Erwin. You couldn’t reject it anymore. 

Erwin ordered for the four of you. A little later, he comes back with the bottle of tequila along with four shot glasses, some lemon and salt. Honestly, why did the four of you go here if you’re just going to drink with one another? You could’ve easily done this somewhere quieter where you don’t have to watch the girls eyeing Erwin and Levi like a hawk.

You couldn’t blame them. They looked dashing. When Hange told you that she got an invite to the club, she pressed that all of you should dress up. 

Erwin wore a simple long sleeve white shirt with a few buttons opened at the top paired with washed blue  jeans. His hair is subtly gelled, only messed up in a way that looks good but still evidently styled. Levi wore something similar with a darker shade, a long sleeved black shirt and black jeans. Only two of his buttons are opened, showing off his collarbones and the soft pale skin underneath the material of his shirt. His hair is fixed the same way he always does. But his undercut never failed in any look. 

You heard a few girls giggling when they passed by your table. Some even winking at your male companions. Some even at Hange (who winked back delightly). She looked both beautiful and handsome at the same time.

Three shots after, you were definitely feeling the alcohol in your system. The lights in the club do nothing to help the state of your head. You decide to slow down, refusing any shot offered to you. 

A few people Hange, Erwin, and Levi knows approach the table. You’ve already known them to be Miche and Nanaba but you never really hung out with them before. They were there to ask if the four of you wanted to join them on the dance floor and rave along with them. 

“I’m fine here,” Levi rejected the invitation. You look at him. Hange and Erwin already agreed and went. That leaves you and Levi together, still being persuaded by the new pair. 

“Oh, come on, grumpycakes. It’s almost your birthday! Let loose!” Nanaba whined and your eyes widened, staring at her.

“Birthday?” you asked then looked at Levi. “It’s your birthday?” 

Levi groaned and threw his head back. “Look what you’ve fucking done, Nanaba.” He then looks at you and deadpanned. “No. It’s not today.” 

“It’s on Christmas!” Miche chimed in, laughing and patting Levi on the back. 

Your mouth dropped at the information. “Your birthday is on the 25th?” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” Miche answered for him.

“Levi here hates celebrating his birthday. He thinks it’s awkward and unnecessary.” Nanaba adds. 

“Wow.” You couldn’t help yourself but say it, grinning. “You literally have the same birthday as the lord and savior himself and yet you don’t have a single kindness in your body.” 

The entire table laughs. Miche pats you on the head. “I knew I liked you, Greenie. You sure you don’t want to hit the dance floor with us?” He invites you.

Before you could reply you hear Nanaba try and persuade Levi again to get off his ass. 

“Come on, Levi. Petra’s there.” 

You froze, your head turning to your left where Levi sat. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted, redness tinting his cheeks. Then, he sees you staring and his face drops, his expression clearly showing he’s uncomfortable. Whoever this Petra is, he’s not fond of you knowing about her. But why? And who is she? 

“Oh! Yes! I saw Petra too. You have a crush on her, don’t you?” Miche adds in. 

“F-Fuck you.” Levi could only stammer out, looking away from your gaze as you look at him with a bewildered expression. If you were in an unfazed state, you would’ve already said something to annoy Levi. But for now, all you could do was try to get the words you heard past the alcohol and into your system. 

Crush. He has a crush. 

A sinking feeling rambled in your chest and you got the urge to grasp at your chest. Oh. Fuck. Why do you feel like crying? Why is there literal and physical pain in your heart right now? 

You tuned out anything they say, only seeing Nanaba point at someone in the middle of the club. She’s pretty. Short haired and ginger. She’s with her girl friends, singing and dancing along to the music with them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Jealousy. 

Shit. 

You like Levi?

Oh, fuck. 

You like Levi. 

It was getting suffocating. You didn’t know what to do. So you stood up. 

You don’t say anything. You just downed another shot of tequila, got on your feet, and headed over to where Hange is. Hange cheered when she saw you and spun you around. The crowd wasn’t as suffocating as the realization of your feelings for Levi—your unrequited feelings for Levi. 

You went along with whatever Hange was doing, screaming along the lyrics of whatever was playing. Closing your eyes and letting the alcohol and flashing lights lose your senses, moving your hips to the rhythm. 

As you were dancing, your mind drifts back to the concert and how intimate it felt to you. To you. How stupid were you to give meaning to something so… nothing?

As you try your best to distract yourself, you bump into someone. He’s tall and you laugh and say sorry. He looks down at you and smirks, lightening up when he sees your face. 

“No. It’s my fault. Sorry!” He replied, shouting and leaning to your ear so you could hear him over the music.

“It’s fine!” you shout back at him and flashed him a smile. 

“You from Paradis U?” He shouts again and you nod. 

“Yeah. You?” He nods. 

You exchanged names. His name is Gian and he’s a second-year engineering student. He’s good looking and tall, definitely more than 6 feet. Fair skinned with long dark hair tied up in a manbun, revealing the multiple piercings on his ears. He’s wearing a simple and fitted black shirt and jeans, showing off the muscles of his biceps. Everything is telling you that he’s bad news but you don’t seem to care at the moment. Besides, he might not be interested in you anyway. 

You introduce him to Hange and he happily gets to know her. Somehow, Nanaba and Miche but without Levi. You badly want to look at the table you left, eyes always seeming to look for him everywhere. However, you know better than to see he’s not there and already spending time with the redhead he has a crush on. 

“Hey,” Gian leans into your ear again. “You have a boyfriend or something?” 

A little shocked and curious why he would ask that, you leaned in to ask. “What?” you shout over the music.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Gian repeated, louder this time with his face over yours after he said the words so he could see your reaction. It seemed to please him when your face flushed red. 

“Oh! Yeah. I mean, no. No. I’m single.” You curse yourself at your stammering response. 

Great, I must have looked like a total loser when I opened my mouth.  

A little panicked because this is the first time someone showed their interest to you this way, your eyes looked for Hange for help. When you do, you see her throwing you a thumbs up while Nanaba silently cheers you on with her fists. You even see her mouth what seems to be like a ‘Go get it, girl!’.

He pulls himself closer to you and leans into your ear, this time he doesn’t shout because his lips were close enough to kiss your ear but not quite touch.

“That’s good because I think you look really hot in your skirt,” he whispered, lips almost kissing your ear. His voice, rough and deep, sent chills down your spine and parted your lips in anticipation for the attention he’s giving you. 

The back of your mind is screaming a name, hoping you would see him—hoping he would see you. But you know that now, it’s impossible. He doesn’t want you like that. 

So you pull yourself closer to the named stranger, your bodies flush against each other. A stray hand presses down on your back, sliding down to your behind where it squeezes, making you gasp. 

“Oh!” You didn’t really expect that he would touch you like that. 

Gian’s hand inches away from you in less than a second like it was scorched by fire, face laced with embarrassment and apology. “Sorry, too far?” 

You were unfamiliar with being touched like that but everyone around you seemed to be getting it on. Looking around, the people on the dance floor were doing worse. It’s a place where people go to do things like this, you should let loose. 

“No, no,” you answer quickly. “It’s fine. Just surprised me s’all.”

The man in front of you let out a breath of relief and continued roaming his hands around your body, his face buried in your neck. You were relaxing into it, trying to appease yourself in this type of closure. 

“Greenie.” 

Your head whipped around to the deep voice calling you. Levi stands there, not too close but even your company could feel the threat looming in his impassive cold stance. It was enough to make you keep a distance with Gian as if you were doing something wrong.

“Levi,” it came out more of a whisper. You weren’t even sure if Gian even heard it. 

The silver-eyed man steps closer this time, maybe so you can hear him. “Erwin is not feeling well. I think we should go. Where’s Hange?” He looks around the crowd, looking for Hange. Or avoiding your eyes because of the lie. 

You found that hard to believe because it’s Erwin. That man never gets sick. His daily vitamins and supplements are scheduled and he holds his alcohol really well. Maybe the best drinker out of the four of you. 

“Oh,” you choose to believe anyway. “I guess we should. Uhm…” You face Gian. “I’m sorry. This is my friend, Levi.” 

Gian doesn’t hide the disappointment in his face but smiles anyway. “Don’t even worry about it. Sup, bro? I’m Gian.” 

Levi only nods in acknowledgement, nothing ill-mannered when it comes to him. He always acts this way with every new person he meets. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Gian.” You smile up at him. Before he can respond, the crowd fills up more as the DJ puts on a popular club song, pushing Levi to you. Discomfort creeps into Levi’s face and unconsciously, he reaches for your wrist for some familiarity.

“Let’s go,” he says with an irritated look on his face. 

“Wait.” Gian places a hand on your shoulder. “You’re on Facebook, right?”

You nod and before you can say anything else, Levi was already dragging you out of the crowd. You hear Gian shout out a follow that he’ll find you there before looking at the man ahead of you, holding your wrist tightly but not so much that it hurts. 

As you follow Levi, you pass by your table where you see a very much sober-looking Erwin who stared into your eyes knowingly with a smirk and his arm around a girl’s shoulder you don’t know. Hange can’t be found anywhere. Miche and Nanaba as well. It didn’t look like the group was getting ready to leave at all.  

You try and tug your hand out of his grip, protesting as you walk through the night club. When you finally reach the outside of the club, the cold air hits your skin, setting goosebumps all over. Levi finally lets go, his back still turned to you. 

“What the hell is going on, Levi?” There’s a slight shiver to your question, your arms coming up to protect yourself from the cold. 

He doesn’t turn around, standing still in front of you. 

“Hey—” 

“Let’s go home.” He turns without looking at you, attempting to walk off without even uttering an explanation as to why he insists that the two of you go home. 

Unwilling to accept his orders, you huff and grab him by the shoulder, halting his steps. “I am not going home! What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Then go back inside. Fuck!” He shrugs your hand off his shoulder, glaring at you for a second before looking away again. This is a mood from Levi you can’t read. You’ve seen him annoyed. You’ve seen him irritated. You’ve even seen him happy. But this one, you can’t understand. And you have a feeling that it’s because of you. And that sets an uneasy feeling in your chest. Levi and you always fight but he was still a friend.

“What’s gotten into you, Levi?” Your voice softens, as if cowering. It must be the alcohol (or that poison drink Hange gave you) in your system that had your walls down for a moment. Levi has also never seen you like this. It’s without doubt that his sudden attitude scared you. 

“It’s…” He paused. The thought of scaring you made him clear his thoughts a little. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. “Nothing.” 

You weren’t satisfied with his answer, you made sure he gets that with your answer. “It’s not nothing.” 

“Why do you hate me so much?” The softness of your voice surprised him, it’s far from your usual behavior with him. It’s like you were baring yourself, the alcohol you guess is doing the work. 

There is deafening silence for a few seconds, the cold doing nothing to help the situation. He takes a step closer, brows furrowed and a frown painted on his face. 

“I don’t hate you.” He hissed, as if you said something offensive to him. 

Your jaw clenched, biting your words in frustration. “You do!” You keep the distance closer. “You hate me because I’m not well off. Like I’m not fucking worthy of your time because I don’t come from money like you.” 

“That’s not at all true,” he argues, equally frustrated now. “Is that what you think of me? A pompous elitist?” 

No, I don’t think that. Maybe at first… but not anymore. 

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re fucking wrong,” he blanks. “You know what? I do hate you.”  

“I fucking hate you,” he repeats. “I’ve hated you since high school. It was awful. Seeing you try so hard, not making friends, and ignoring everyone who tries to get close. It was fine, really. I didn’t care. That’s your shitty life. And then you get here. And suddenly you’re in my life trying to be someone else. You get to my mom, my friends, my home. It’s so fucking annoying.” 

You’re stunned. Somewhere, somehow, you hear your heart breaking from a distance. For the second time that night, your chest tightens, but for a different type of pain. A pain that didn’t feel good as realized earlier.

“I fucking hate you.” As if it wasn’t enough, he repeats it. 

“I…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I fucking hate that you’re in my head. All the fucking time.”

“You’re making me so insane that I just wish that you would stay away from me,” he ranted, eyes still closed so tight that his brows furrowed and forehead wrinkled. You can see how his cheeks and ears are red, blazing from intense cold or emotion. You weren’t sure. 

“But I… don’t really want you anywhere else.” 

The sound of your phone buzzing pulls you back to reality. Why now of all times were you reminiscing about how you and Levi came to be? At corporate lunch time at that. 

You reached for your phone, seeing a text from Hange. She was trying to schedule you with a tailor to have the bridesmaid dress of the girl who canceled refitted to your body. You send her your schedule, not having a lot of time left on both the wedding and your time availability. 

After a few minutes, you received a text back from Hange. 

Great! I scheduled you on Sunday, 10AM! Levi will pick you up and come with you. Love ya! 

Oh, Hange. I’m gonna fucking kill you.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

---

HIII, can I ask when is the next update?? I missed it when you are this active 🥹

I'll try to update as early as next week <3 Sorry for ghosting but I'm back now unless life throws another hurricane my way lmao.

---

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

is it gonna be hange's wedding next chapter?? 😩💗💓

Not yet. But it will be Hange’s Bachelorette Party and more! 🫶

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