Hiiii, AGHHH I'M SO HAPPY, THANK YOU FOR THIS CHAPTERR. Is It Ok If I Ask About The Schedule Of The Chapter

hiiii, AGHHH I'M SO HAPPY, THANK YOU FOR THIS CHAPTERR. Is it ok if I ask about the schedule of the chapter 5?? Anyway, we missed youuu SO MUCH

Thank you so much for the wait and I missed you as well 🥹 I’m working on chapter 5 at the moment and it only has 1k words so far. Hopefully, I will be able to let it out by October but this last quarter of the year is going to be hectic for me. It makes me so happy that there are a few still interested in this story. Though, I have to admit I’m kinda stuck because I want to bring in another minor character (male) but I’m not decided on who yet. (Sorry I kinda yapped.)

taglist: @carries-blenders-and-stuff @kyr0k0 @heartsforlevi @thvunaise @misera-libera

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

Chapter 6: Busy Nights

WC: 6664 Chapter Warnings: just angst again 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: Levi POV in this chapter !! ^^ Oh, and unfortunately, there will probably no update until after the 17th of October. I have uni exams and my study schedule is clashing with work so I probably won't time have time to write until then. See you until then! (We're gonna get more angsty and a little steamy(?) when I come back, I promise.)

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Over the next few days, you found yourself checking your phone more than usual, a small flicker of anticipation stirring each time you saw a new message. On Wednesday afternoon, Kuchel finally texted you the details of the dinner, and to your surprise, it wasn’t at the restaurant.

Would dinner at my place this Thursday be good? 7PM. Just us. Don’t bring anything—just yourself. See you then. —Kuchel

You stared at the message for a moment, blinking. Kuchel’s home? You hadn’t expected something so personal, but it made sense. After all, this wasn’t just any casual dinner. It was a reunion, an intimate moment to reconnect outside the hustle and noise of her now-bustling restaurant.

A mix of emotions bubbled up as you responded with a quick response.

Sounds perfect. I’ll be there.

As the dinner date drew closer, you found yourself thinking about Kuchel more than you expected. Memories from the time you worked at her small, then unassuming restaurant resurfaced—late nights closing up, chats over coffee while you helped her organize orders, Levi’s rare moments of humor in between his sharp instructions. It all seemed so distant now, like a chapter of your life that belonged to someone else.

A couple of minutes after confirming the dinner with Kuchel, another message buzzed on your phone, pulling you from the stack of legal documents you’d been reviewing. You glanced at the screen and saw Hange’s name pop up and you remember she has been pestering you about her bachelorette party. She kept sending the same message everyday for the past week.

Heyyy! Guess what? You’re invited to my bachelorette party! 🎉🎉 It’s going to be WILD. Be there, or I’ll hunt you down!! This Saturday at 8 PM. The details are attached here. Can’t wait to see you!!

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you read the message. Hange hadn’t changed one bit. She always had this vibrant energy that could light up any room, and apparently, she was bringing that energy to her bachelorette party. The thought of attending the event tugged at something inside you—an old camaraderie, a time when things were simpler, messier, but undeniably fun.

The idea of being surrounded by familiar faces again—of slipping back into that old rhythm—both excited and unsettled you. But Hange’s invitation was impossible to refuse. She had a way of pulling people into her orbit, and you knew this wouldn’t be any ordinary night. Besides, Levi won’t be there anyway.

As the day unfolded, the prospect of Kuchel’s dinner and Hange’s bachelorette party loomed closer, each event pulling you back into the life you once had here. It felt as though the city, with all its memories and relationships, was welcoming you back in layers—one familiar face at a time. And you don’t even know if you deserved it. 

—

When the evening finally arrived, you made your way to Kuchel’s home, which was tucked into a quiet neighborhood just a few blocks away from the restaurant. The walk there felt almost surreal, the streets of Stohess now familiar yet filled with memories. When you arrived, you found the house just as warm and inviting as the woman who owned it.

Kuchel’s home was modest, but there was a charm to it—plants lining the windowsills, warm lights glowing from inside, and the faint scent of cooking wafting out the front door. You took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there she was, smiling as though no time had passed at all.

“You made it,” Kuchel said, her voice bright as she stepped aside to let you in. “Come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

You stepped inside, taking in the cozy, lived-in feel of the space. Photos lined the walls, some of Levi as a boy, and others of what seemed to be old family gatherings. The warmth of the place wrapped around you, instantly putting you at ease.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” you said softly, looking around.

Kuchel smiled as she led you into the kitchen, where a simple but delicious-smelling meal was simmering on the stove. “I figured it’d be nice to have dinner somewhere quiet. We can talk without the restaurant noise, and besides, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you for a long time.”

As you took a seat at her kitchen table, Kuchel poured you a glass of wine, her movements graceful and familiar. “It’s been too long. You’ve done so much since you left, and I want to hear everything.”

You smiled, settling into the moment. “There’s a lot to catch up on,” you admitted. “But I want to hear about you, too. Kuchel’s has grown so much—I couldn’t believe it when I saw how busy it was the other night.”

Kuchel laughed softly as she joined you at the table. “Levi deserves most of the credit for that. He’s been the driving force behind the expansion. I never imagined we’d get this far, honestly. But enough about work—for tonight, let’s treat each other like the old times.” 

You took a sip of your wine, feeling the warmth of the room and the comfort of Kuchel’s presence sink in. “It’s been a whirlwind,” you began, knowing that this evening would be one of reconnection, not just with Kuchel, but with the parts of yourself that you’d left behind when you moved away. You began to tell her what happened like how you tell it to everyone, how you left the city, moved your grandma, went to law school, how your grandma died, and how you began to work in Trost. 

And as the night unfolded, with laughter and stories shared over a lovingly prepared meal, you realized how much you had missed this—missed her, and the sense of home that Kuchel had always provided.

As the dinner with Kuchel neared its end, the conversation had drifted from light-hearted reminiscing to more personal territory. You both shared a bottle of wine, laughter mixing with memories, but there was a point where the ease of the evening gave way to something deeper. Kuchel, always observant, seemed to notice the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you hesitated before answering certain questions.

She set her glass down, her expression softening as the last bit of warmth from the meal filled the quiet space between you. “I’m really glad you’re back,” she said, her voice gentle but with an edge of seriousness. “You were with someone else when I first saw you but it’s been plaguing my mind so I came to ask you to meet me. I’m sorry, dear… I have to ask, how are you really doing?”

You looked down at your plate for a moment, the weight of the question settling in. Kuchel had always been able to read you, even when you didn’t want to be read. She wasn’t one for surface-level small talk—not with you.

“I’m fine,” you started, instinctively offering the answer you’d given everyone else. But Kuchel’s eyes didn’t waver, and the sincerity of her gaze made you pause. She wasn’t letting you get away with that.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her voice a little softer now. “I know it’s been a long time, and I don’t expect you to spill everything right now… but I can see it. You’ve been through something. So, how have you really been?”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time all night, you felt exposed. You hadn’t planned on opening up—not tonight, maybe not ever—but something about Kuchel’s quiet persistence, her maternal presence, made you feel safe enough to let the guard down.

“You know—and don’t tell Levi I told you this but… when the breakup happened, Levi didn’t take it well. And I never got to talk to you about it. But if Levi experienced that… it was probably bad for you too, wasn’t it?” She reached for your hand across the table, placing a comforting hand on yours, and caressing it with care and love of a mother. 

It took all of you to control your emotions right there and then. For Kuchel to say this, the curiosity of what Levi endured during those times that you broke things off and what happened to everyone after you left only became stronger, accompanied with greater guilt that you have always been carrying. You look away and take a deep breath, setting your own glass aside. “I… it was hard for me too, I admit.”

Kuchel nodded, not interrupting, just listening in that patient way of hers. It encouraged you to continue.

“When I left, it was all I could think of doing. But it feels like I just ran. Away from here, from everything. And now that I’m back, it’s like… all of it is catching up to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

You hadn’t meant to be so honest, but once the words started spilling out, it was hard to stop. Kuchel listened intently, her eyes filled with understanding, but she didn’t say anything right away.

“I knew there was more under the surface,” she said softly. “You’ve always been strong, but sometimes it’s okay to stop carrying it all alone. I can see it’s hard to tell what really happened and I—we can wait. There’s still people that love you here. You can find your way back to them.”

Her words hit deeper than you expected, and for the first time in a while, you felt a small sense of relief—a release of the tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. It was comforting, having someone like Kuchel, who knew you before the layers of adulthood and responsibility piled on.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “I guess I just needed to hear that.”

Kuchel smiled warmly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. But don’t keep it bottled up either. You’ve got people here who care, people who are still part of your life—whether it’s me, or Hange, or whoever else. Don’t be a stranger.”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in her words settle over you like a warm blanket. There was something about the way she said it that made you believe it.

The evening ended on a note of quiet understanding, Kuchel walking you to the door with a promise to see each other again soon. As you stepped out into the night, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter, knowing that at least here, in this corner of your past, you had someone who understood—someone who saw through the cracks and cared enough to reach out.

—

After saying your goodbyes to Kuchel and leaving her cozy home, the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out of the cab in front of your apartment. The streets were quiet, only the occasional flicker of distant headlights passing by, the buzz from your dinner still lingering in your mind. Kuchel's words played over and over in your head—her gentle insistence that you didn’t have to carry everything alone. You felt lighter, as if some invisible weight had been lifted, but also heavy with the realization that coming back to the city meant dealing with more than just the people from your past. It meant facing the reality that this is the present–your current situation, something you can no longer run away from. 

As you rounded the corner of your street, something caught your eye—a familiar silhouette, leaning casually against the building. At first, you thought you were imagining it, the streetlights casting long shadows that distorted the figure. But as you approached, the figure became clearer, the unmistakable stance of someone you hadn't expected to see, but somehow weren’t surprised by.

Levi.

He stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a tension in his posture that told you this wasn’t just a casual visit. His dark eyes flicked up as you approached, locking onto yours with the same intensity you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm enough to mask the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside you.

Levi pushed off from the wall, standing straighter as he took a few slow steps toward you. 

"How was the dinner?" he asked, the words falling out more out of habit than genuine curiosity. He didn't need to know about the dinner, not really. He just needed to say something.

“You knew?” You blinked, surprised that he even knew about it. Then you remembered, of course—Levi was always aware of things, especially when it came to Kuchel. He probably knew you'd be seeing her tonight even if she didn’t tell him. 

"It was nice," you said, carefully, as if you were trying not to give too much away. "Kuchel’s doing well."

Levi nodded, his gaze shifting for a second, as though considering whether to say something more. But instead, he settled on something simple. "Good."

Another silence stretched between you, longer this time. It was clear he wasn’t going to explain why he’d really come. Maybe you didn’t need to ask—maybe it didn’t matter. But the tension between you felt thick, almost suffocating. The years apart hadn’t erased anything. You can still feel the immeasurable amount of love he has for his mother. In honesty, you’d expected him to be angry that you reconnected with Kuchel. But of course, this was Levi. If it’s mother’s happiness or want, he would never question or fault her for it. 

Levi nodded, staring down at the ground for a beat, shoving his hands back into his jacket pockets. There was no reason for him to stay, but he lingered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of the city around you both.

"You didn’t have to come all the way out here," you said, breaking the silence, your voice soft but carrying a note of hesitation. You didn’t ask him outright why he was there, but it was implied.

Levi shrugged, his eyes meeting yours briefly before drifting off again. "Maybe I did."

You swallowed, not sure how to respond to that. For all of Levi’s usual bluntness, there was always something deeper that he never quite let show. Something that made it impossible to fully walk away from him, even when you thought you had. 

“Get some rest,” Levi said after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost softer. “You look awful.”

He gave you a curt nod and turned to walk away, leaving you standing there, feeling like something had just shifted between you. Something unspoken, unresolved, and maybe destined to remain that way.  

—

The night of Hange’s bachelorette party arrived with the kind of energy that made the air feel electric. You stood outside the venue, a trendy rooftop bar in the heart of the city, the neon lights of Stohess Street reflected in the glass walls behind you. The place had been transformed—streamers, lights, and enough champagne to fill a small pool. You took a deep breath before stepping inside, knowing that wherever Hange was, chaos was sure to follow.

As you entered, you were immediately hit by a wave of laughter, music, and the unmistakable sound of Hange’s voice ringing out over the crowd. The space was filled with friends, both familiar faces and new ones, all gathered to celebrate. You spotted her almost immediately—Hange was at the center of the room, a crown of flowers on her head and a glass of champagne in hand, already in full party mode.

“There she is!” Hange’s voice rang out as she spotted you from across the room, her face lighting up as she waved you over. She was wearing a sash that read “Bride-to-Be” in glittering letters, and her energy was contagious. “I thought you’d never make it! Come here!”

You smiled, weaving through the crowd of partygoers to reach her. Before you could say a word, Hange pulled you into a tight hug, nearly spilling her champagne in the process.

“I told you it’d be wild!” she laughed, stepping back to take you in. “Look at you! You clean up well.”

“Thanks, Hange,” you said, unable to help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. “This is… a lot.”

“Only the best for my bachelorette!” she declared, spinning around to show off the venue. “We’ve got drinks, food, and games—oh, and don’t forget the karaoke later.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Karaoke?”

Hange grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah, it’s happening. And you will sing, my friend.”

Before you could protest, Nanaba appeared beside you, already holding a glass of champagne for you. “She’s not kidding about the karaoke. Start thinking of your song now,” she teased, handing you the glass. “Long time no see, girl.”

You took it, laughing softly. “Oh my god, Nanaba,” you greet her with a hug. She hugs you back.

Everyone began to greet you. Out of all the attendees, you only knew Nanaba who thankfully treated you kindly like it hasn’t been years since you’ve last seen each other. Tonight, it will all be about Hange, that’s what she said. 

The party was in full swing, with drinks flowing and people chatting in every corner. You settled into the crowd, reminiscing about college days with Nanaba and meeting new girls, but the chaotic energy of the evening was starting to grow on you. Every time you glanced at Hange, she was in the middle of some new adventure—whether it was a game, making an impromptu speech, or trying to rope someone into a dance-off.

As the night went on, you found yourself at the bar, taking a moment to breathe. That’s when Hange sidled up beside you, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So,” she started, leaning on the bar, “I heard you and Levi ran into each other recently.”

You froze for a second, surprised she’d brought it up. Of course, Hange would know. “Yeah… he returned something I forgot in his car,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Hange raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Oh, just a handkerchief? Interesting.”

You gave her a look. “It was nothing. We barely talked.” While we were having dinner, that is, you thought. 

“Sure,” she said with a teasing grin. “Well, just so you know, I mixed that drink myself.”

You stared at her, caught off guard. “Of course you did.”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What? It’s my party! I want everyone to have fun. Besides, it’ll be fun for everyone to let loose. Don’t worry, it’s not as dangerous as the ones I made from college. I’ve practiced a lot over the years.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Hange always had a way of stirring the pot, even when she didn’t mean to. Before you could respond, she was pulled away by a group of friends, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment.

The night wore on, and as promised, karaoke eventually took over the party. You found yourself dragged into a group rendition of some 90s throwback song, with Hange leading the charge and everyone laughing so hard they could barely keep up with the lyrics. It was chaotic, messy, and exactly what you’d expected from a night like this.

As you looked around at the familiar faces, the laughter, and the whirlwind energy of the party, you felt a strange sense of belonging—a feeling you hadn’t realized you’d missed until now. It was like stepping back into a part of yourself you’d left behind, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be back. Or maybe that was the alcohol in your system. You feel like you’re about to crash out soon. 

The party didn’t start winding down until the early hours of the morning, when even Hange began to show signs of exhaustion. You were one of the last to leave, standing on the rooftop as the city stretched out beneath you, barely alive with the hum of nightlife. The reason you didn’t leave yet is because your alcohol tolerance betrayed you. You fear that if you go home alone, you’d pass out on the street and wake up god knows where.

Hange caught up to you once more as you stood, leaning on the tall railings. “Hey,” she said, her tone more serious now, though still light. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, you know? Having you back here.”

You smiled, feeling the sincerity in her words. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Good,” she said, giving you a lopsided grin before pulling you into one last hug. “Now get home and sleep. We’ve got more partying to do at the wedding.” 

“Actually, can you grab me a cab? I don’t think I can book a ride on my phone at my state.” Your words are slurring off with a soft laugh as you talk, trying to pull out your phone out of your pocket only to find it empty. “Oh, other pocket,” you murmured incoherently as you finally had your phone in your hand.

You look up to already see Hange grinning at you, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of the night. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Already taken care of.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hange gave you a look that was somewhere between mischievous and knowing, her eyes twinkling with that signature glint she always got when she knew she was meddling in something. “I called someone to pick you up.” 

Your stomach dropped, and a sense of foreboding crept into your drunken haze. “Who?” you asked, dreading the answer. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hange.” 

For one good second, you sobered up, chills filling your entire body when you heard his voice. You look in his direction, already walking up to the two of you. He’s wearing a black jacket and jeans, his hair a little tousled by the windy air of the rooftop. 

“I thought you’d know better than drinking Hange’s mix,” he directly spoke to you now, arms crossed in disappointment. Him standing in front of you hit you like a splash of cold water. You blinked a few times, as if you don’t believe what you’re seeing in front of you. 

“Levi? You called Levi?” is what you would’ve said if you could even make some words out of your drunken mouth. You let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the situation settle in your already tipsy mind. The way Levi is seeing you right now—drunk, disoriented, and in this state—is too humiliating, but it was too late to argue. Hange had made her decision without consulting you, and there was no undoing it now, with him already standing in front of you.

Hange laughed, patting you on the back. “Welp, here’s your designated driver. Moblit’s on his way to fetch me so you two go on ahead.”

With that, Hange left the two of you alone by the railings. The two of you stood there in silence. The long-sleeved shirt you wore does nothing for the chilly night, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself as the cold night air sobered you up just enough to feel the awkwardness building. Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned on the railing, trying to steady yourself.

He approached you closer, his usual unreadable expression giving nothing away. “You good to go, or do I need to carry you to the car?” he asked, his voice dry but not unkind.

You blinked, trying to pull yourself together, but you could still feel the alcohol buzzing in your system. “I can walk,” you muttered, feeling heat rise in your cheeks despite the cool air.

Levi’s lips twitched ever so slightly at your response, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Sure you can.”

You huff, trying to walk away from him. You swayed slightly on your feet, your mind racing with a mixture of embarrassment and dread as you head to the elevator. Levi followed closely behind you. Whenever you feel like you’re about to lose your stance, you’d feel a slight graze of a hand on your back. He never touches you. But you’re awfully aware of his presence behind you. 

The two of you waited in front of the elevator in silence. You don’t look at Levi. You feel like your face is going to be redder than it already is if you look at his handsome face. And what was he wearing? Did he go somewhere? Why does he look like that? It’s so unfair. He’s so hot. The all black fit always hits you differently, the alcohol is not helping either. 

Just as the elevator doors open, something draped on your shoulders. Levi’s jacket. “Wear it. You look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” 

As the two of you go in, due to actually feeling like you’re going to freeze to death, you don’t complain and wear his jacket. The smell of his cologne fills your nose and you bury yourself in the warmth of it. 

"You look like you’ve had a rough night," he said, his voice flat but with a hint of dry amusement.

You huffed out a breath, leaning your elbows on the railing again. “It wasn’t supposed to end with you showing up.” You paused for a moment. “Thanks for coming… but you didn’t have to. I could’ve called a cab.”

Levi shrugged, glancing over at the view of the city in front of you. “You were drunk, and she called me. Simple as that.”

You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing with him. “Yeah, I guess.”

He glanced at you, taking in the way you leaned a little too heavily against the wall, the faint pink flush on your cheeks. As the two of you stood there, the awkward silence between you grew. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an underlying tension—one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

You made it to the lobby  and then outside of the building, the cool air of the outside world hitting you like a fresh wave of another cold. Levi led the way to his car parked just outside, and you hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and reluctance.

When you reached the car, Levi opened the passenger door for you, motioning for you to get in. You do as he says, slipping into the passenger seat.  The ride was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between you as he drove through the city streets, which had quieted down in the late hours. You stared out the window, watching the lights of the buildings blur as you passed by. 

Levi finally broke the silence, his voice soft but steady. “Hange said you were having fun tonight.”

You let out a small laugh, still feeling the god-awful drink swirling in your veins. “Yeah, I was… surprisingly”

He glanced at you briefly. “Parties weren't really your thing.”

“Neither are late-night rescues,” you replied, shooting him a half-smile.

Levi’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him all night. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the weight of the night settling over you as your eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic hum of the car and the gentle motion of the drive lulled you into a deeper state of relaxation. The alcohol in your system had finally caught up with you, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, your eyes grew heavier with each passing minute. You leaned your head against the cool window, the blur of city lights fading as your consciousness began to slip.

You barely registered Levi glancing over at you from the driver's seat. His expression, ever unreadable, softened slightly as he noticed your slow, even breathing. He kept driving for a few more minutes, but when he pulled up in front of your apartment building and turned off the engine, you didn’t stir.

—

Levi sat there for a moment, staring at you, your body curled up in the passenger seat, completely oblivious to the world around you. The faint rise and fall of your chest was the only sound in the quiet of the car. He let out a small sigh, looking around the area of your building as he considered his options. There were still some people outside in the streets. The underground never slept, filled with drunktards and no-good doers. 

After a moment of hesitation, Levi made his decision. Getting you inside your apartment, trying to find your keys, and getting you up the steep and unpaved stairs—all of it seemed like too much for someone in your condition. 

Without another word, Levi drove off your apartment and to his own home where you’ll be more comfortable. After he parked his car, Levi got out of the car and came around to your side. He opened the passenger door quietly and leaned down, carefully sliding one arm beneath your legs and the other around your back. You stirred slightly as he lifted you, your head resting against his chest as he effortlessly carried you out of the car. The smell of alcohol fills his nose but it didn’t bother him one bit.  His movements were slow and deliberate, making sure not to wake you as he adjusted your weight in his arms. 

You murmured something incoherent, your head shifting slightly as you nestled closer against him. Levi froze for a second, his gaze flickering down to you, but when you didn’t wake, he continued walking toward his building.

Once inside, Levi carried you up the stairs to his apartment. It was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. He shifted you gently in his arms to open the door, then stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. He made his way through the familiar space, heading toward his bedroom.

Levi laid you down carefully on his bed, pulling back the covers as he positioned you comfortably on the mattress. You stirred again, this time more aware, your eyes fluttering open briefly as you tried to figure out where you were. Your vision was blurry, your mind still fogged with sleep and alcohol, but you recognized the familiar scent of Levi’s apartment. 

"Levi?" you mumbled, your voice hoarse with sleep.

He was already adjusting the blanket over you, making sure you were covered and comfortable. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly, his voice unusually soft. “Go back to sleep.”

You blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation, but exhaustion pulled at you like a weight. Your body relaxed into the bed, the warmth of the blankets lulling you back to the edge of unconsciousness. “This isn’t… my place…” you muttered, but even as you said it, your eyes were closing again.

“I know,” Levi replied, stepping back slightly as he watched you. “You fell asleep in the car.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the mattress. “Yeah…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as sleep finally overtook you.

As Levi carefully tucked the blanket around you, making sure you were comfortable, he turned to leave the room. But just as he was about to pull away, he felt a gentle tug on his arm.

In your half-conscious state, your fingers had wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. He froze, staring down at you, his heartbeat quickening unexpectedly. Your eyes were still closed, your breathing slow and steady, but your grip was firm—gentle, yet desperate, as though some part of you, even in sleep, didn’t want him to leave.

“Stay… please…” you whispered, your voice barely audible but enough to make Levi’s breath catch.

He wasn’t sure if you were dreaming or fully aware of what you were saying, but the soft plea reached him. You shifted slightly, your hand sliding up his arm as you pulled him closer, nestling into the blankets. “hold me…” you murmured, the vulnerability in your voice tugging at something deep inside him.

Levi’s body went rigid, his mind torn between his instinct to distance himself and the raw emotion in your voice. He had never been good with moments like this—moments that demanded more than what he was used to offering. But the way you clung to him, even unconsciously, made it difficult to simply pull away. It reminded him of old, easier times. 

With a quiet sigh, Levi gave in. He gently sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you too much. His movements were slow, uncertain, but deliberate. He stretched out beside you, keeping a small distance at first, though your hand never let go of him.

As you sensed his presence closer, you relaxed, instinctively shifting so that your head rested lightly against his chest. The tension in your body melted as you let out a soft, contented sigh, your hand still gripping his shirt as if afraid he might disappear.

Levi lay there, still and silent, staring up at the ceiling, his heart beating faster than usual. He didn’t know what to do with his free arm, but eventually, he let it settle around your shoulder, holding you with a gentleness that surprised even him. The scent of your hair and the warmth of your body against his was oddly calming, despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind.

The room was quiet, save for your slow, steady breathing. Levi glanced down at you, watching the peaceful expression on your face, the way your brow had unfurled and your lips parted slightly in sleep. You looked vulnerable, and yet completely at ease.

For a brief moment, Levi allowed himself to relax, too. He wasn’t sure what this meant—this sudden closeness but as you snuggled into him, your body warm against his, he let himself be present in the moment.

Just for tonight, he told himself. Just for now.

As the minutes passed, Levi found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. Your face was serene in sleep, the tension from the day and the alcohol completely dissolved. He hadn't seen you like this in a long time—peaceful, unguarded. There was something deeply comforting in watching you like this, something that stirred memories he had long buried. Only now was he able to stare at your face without fearing he’d crumble in front of you. The darkness under your eyes tells everyone that you’re tired but the years have painted a maturity in your face that didn’t take away your beauty. 

His eyes traced the familiar lines of your features—the way your lashes rested softly on your cheeks, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of your breathing, and Levi’s thoughts seemed to drift along with it. He wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but here, beside you, he couldn’t help but think of everything that had happened between you two—what you had been, what you could have been.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but a deep, unspoken longing began to rise in his chest, a feeling he had been trying to ignore ever since the night he had shown up outside your apartment without a reason. The closeness of you, the way you had unconsciously reached for him, pulled at something deep inside him.

His gaze softened, lingering on your parted lips, the way your hair spilled across the pillow, framing your face. Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible force, he found himself leaning in closer. His heart began to pound louder, an unfamiliar rush of emotions building within him, making his movements feel almost inevitable.

He told himself to stop, to pull back before he crossed a line. But as his face hovered just inches above yours, he was overwhelmed by the quiet intimacy of the moment. The warmth of your breath brushed against his skin, and his pulse quickened. You were so close, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like—to close that final distance, to press his lips against yours once again. 

He hesitated, his breath hitching as his eyes traced your sleeping face. You looked so peaceful, so trusting, curled up against him. And yet, in that moment, the weight of what was unsaid between you—the unresolved tension, the memories, the regrets—hung in the air. 

Levi’s hand, which had been resting lightly on your shoulder, twitched as he fought the urge to touch you, to run his fingers through your hair, to let his guard down completely. But just as he was about to give in to the moment, he stopped himself.

A faint sigh escaped him as he pulled back, his forehead creasing with conflict. He couldn’t do it—not like this. Not while you were asleep and unaware. It wouldn’t be fair to you, and he knew better than to act on fleeting impulses, no matter how strong they felt in the moment.

With a deep breath, Levi settled back onto the pillow, keeping his arm around you but maintaining the distance between your faces. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing, the weight of the unspoken emotions pressing heavily on his chest.

As you shifted slightly in your sleep, your hand still clutching his shirt, Levi closed his eyes, trying to push away the longing that had nearly overtaken him.

But the truth lingered, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it: after all these years, he had never really let you go. 

He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of concern and something else flickering in his eyes before he carefully stood up from the bed, turned and quietly walked into his bathroom. He got two things, a cleanser and some cotton. 

He walked back to the bed, seeing you sleeping soundly. Gently, he sat down beside you and began to wipe the makeup off your face. He’s careful not to wake you, not applying too much pressure. He’s seen you do this back in college, telling him that makeup should always be removed before bed. If he could change your clothes he would as well. But you looked comfortable enough in his jacket. 

Levi walked back into the living room when he was done, his mind oddly restless despite the quiet of the apartment. He sat down on the couch, staring out the window at the city lights outside, knowing that tonight had been different. He didn’t know why he had brought you here instead of waking you up or why he had come to fetch you in the first place. He didn’t know why he didn’t refuse Hange’s call knowing that you were together. He didn’t know why he even dressed up and ran to your side without question. There were a lot of things he didn’t know and didn’t understand. Most of all, he doesn’t understand how you still have a hold of him like this all over the years you were gone. And to be honest, it angered him but mostly, it scared him. 

But as the minutes passed and the apartment remained still, he figured maybe it didn’t matter. And whatever questions you have, he'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, you were safe. And that was enough.

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

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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.

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i had another idea for a levi fic. it’s a dark romance, inspired by historical manhwas and a war local series i’m watching rn, i plotted it out and everything on break. it’s probably gonna stay in the drafts unless i finish expendable hearts soon KAUHSJSHSHS.

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what timee you're gonna upload?? Can't waitt

Hello! I just updated!

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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

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