Levi thinks love is stupid and useless. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t attempt to. Kisses are unnecessary, a hassle, a distraction. Sex is disgusting and filthy and people generally smell bad, and intimacy means making himself vulnerable. He’s not weak, will never be broken again.

Then, Erwin kisses him after that one mission that robs him of part of his body, soul, heart, an arm gone and light vanished from his eyes – and Levi crumbles apart, walls coming down as he finds the only skin and lips he ever wants to touch in his life.

Immortal.

Back in the underground, Levi would have sold every spark of his soul for immortality. Feelings, emotions, and even love – all those things Levi didn’t need, he would’ve given them for a small, bloody bite of freedom. Anything to be invincible.

Then a man led him into war, and Levi drank more blood and tears to barely survive than he would have paid for immortality. Yet, when the morning sun painted golden peace on the man’s face, sleep still caught in the wrinkles around his eyes and the gray shadow of his hair, Levi didn’t wish to never die again.

He just wished to die by his side, listening to the last beats of their battle-scarred hearts. Erwin opened his eyes, blinking at him in surprise as a smile flashed over his thin lips. ‘Yes,’ Levi though as he leaned down to kiss him, curling himself around the man’s body as they hid away from the world in their tiny cottage, surrounded by trees that were just The Forest now – ‘yes,’ Levi thought. One day their hearts would stop beating together.

But until then, they had many mornings of golden light ahead.

Bloom. || Part I

It’s not that Levi hates sex. But sex means people, and it means a stranger’s breath on his skin, hands grabbing his hips too tightly or not hard enough, and it means men who try and try so hard to make him feel good; men who all give up in the end. They always do, even those who loved him.

“Why don’t you kiss?” – “Relax. It’s just sex.” – “What, can’t come for me?” – “Baby, what are you hiding from me? Did someone hurt you?”

He doesn’t have sex anymore. He doesn’t kiss, doesn’t flirt. Evenings are a cup of tea and his favourite blanket, freshly washed, some movie on the tv. He falls asleep with his eyes clenched shut, curled into himself to feel a spark of warmth.

Sometimes, Levi wishes for tattoos. Little inked scars on the spots where he wants to be kissed.

A sun rising on his throat, its beams showing a path of gold to his neck. A silver mermaid swimming around his hipbone, delicate fingers resting on his thigh, a fin curled around his waist. Eagle’s wings, white and hazel, spreading on his back, and a thin emerald snake coiling along his spine like a protector of Eve’s apple, its tail reaching around to his stomach, lower.

He wants black lines that scream “please, touch me. Here, and here, kiss me, love me, fuck my living soul out, but pleaseplease let the sun rise on my neck and make my heart fly”. He already has one tattoo, a pair of crossed wings above his heart. There’s nobody to ask for its meaning. One half is drowning in dark blue ink.

He’s been singing since he can remember, and he’s been searching just as long. The world can’t be that empty, without something that has his heart burst into stars just as much as the first tunes of a symphony. It can’t be the only thing. It just – whenever he thinks he found something, it ends in tears and snow falling on his heart.

He should’ve been more careful with his wishes and the ink dripping off his silent lips.

Levi meets him in one of his music classes. Nice singing voice, deep and rich. That’s all he thinks at first, nothing special – until the man chooses a song. The docent makes Levi join in, half an octave higher, yes please accompany him.

“Demons” by Imagine Dragons, arrangement for two voices and a choir. The other people wait for the new one to start.

It takes a single line. Levi’s lips part, eyes widen. The sun on his throat blooms.

It’s the first time they melt into each other.

At some point, everyone else falls quiet, their voices a mere susurring of ocean waves. The man’s voice rises like a storm, it roars and whispers and promises darkness, rich, sweet heat that tingles all the way up Levi’s spine and into his skull. The echo is loud and quiet and it’s the first time that his voice shakes during singing.

The man looks at him the whole time, sun reflecting in his eyes, lips moving around words and tunes and pure music.

The snake along Levi’s spine moves, lazily dragging its fangs across his skin. He leaves the music room with crimson in his cheeks and a hurricane swirling through his blood.

The man’s name is Erwin.

Levi doesn’t care. He walks home in delusion, people passing by, none of their shitty words reaching him. Levi hears music, and the music carries blue eyes and velvety flames and a music that burns under his cold, lonely skin.

He’s ashamed to abuse the memory, but that voice is all it takes for him to slide under his covers later and wrap a hand around his cock, the other sliding to press into his tight heat, sobbing as he comes with hips bucking up.

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

Levi doesn’t love anyone.
The feeling is foreign to him, heavy and silver like the blade Erwin gave him the day he decided to follow his new commander into a world that wasn’t less dirty and bloody than his old.
Levi doesn’t love anyone, neither himself nor humanity, and not even freedom. He craves it like air, needs it so much that he sometimes claws at his own body because the desire is so deep – but he doesn’t love it.

Levi doesn’t love Erwin.
But if Erwin told Levi to throw his head back and to let his vulnerable, thin throat rest in his Commander’s hands – if Erwin whispered “trust me” and set a knife against his beating heart – if Erwin wrapped control around him like a dark coat, pulsing in his veins and sending him to soar over beasts and slay them –
Levi would obey, and he’d do so with a kiss and a “yes, Erwin”.

December 12th.

Erwin Smith doesn’t do things with half his heart. Levi finds out when his face is pressed into the stinking mud of the underground, when he first hears a name that sounds like power and tastes dark and rich like alcohol. Erwin doesn’t force him to join – there’s no need to pressure someone who’s following willingly. Levi will always obey, after Erwin proves that he’s worthy of obeying. And years later, Levi is naked and vulnerable for him, sprawled on the bed, spread open and crying out a stuttered symphony of Erwin’s name while the commander pours all his heart into licking, sucking, coaxing him open on fingers and a burning wicked tongue.

December 7th.

His name is Levi, and Erwin finds him like a gem hidden in the underground’s dirt. He’s wearing a knife like a trophy, eyes silver and the only bright thing down here, and Erwin thinks that someone so lethal shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful. His name tastes like silk and thick, warm honey on Erwin’s tongue. He’s never seen stars, and when Erwin takes him up, up on the surface and to the death of his comrades, Levi’s blade slits a thin scar into his throat. He’s keeping the blood-stained shirt forever – as a reminder.

It’s a week before Levi speaks again after Isabel and Farlan are gone, and it’s Erwin’s name that he says – quiet, almost shy, with his knife tucked away but eyes as bright as stars, and Erwin can’t help but lean down and lift him up to kiss him until Levi’s light is burning him to ashes and dust.

Erwin wears his weaknesses as a rusted ancient armour on his body. It hugs his chest and waist, crawls up his calves and curls around his shins and feet. The armour is shielding his neck and head from attacks, and only his face shows some emotions that nobody can pinpoint exactly.
Levi’s finger are sharp and thin into to bore into the gaps between his fireproof silver and push stinging pain into his body. Until this day, Levi has only ever slipped his hands through the cracks gently and pressed them into warm skin, and breathed in, and let their hearts beat as one for a small eternity.

Eruri. Tarantism. ;333

Send me a word/fandom/characters and I will write a drabble

{ Tarantism – The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. }
sfw.

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The candle’s flame shuddered as Erwin moved past it. His feet swirled and whirled on the ground, spun around himself. Levi’s warm scent held him safe, the soft fabric of his jacket crinkling in Erwin’s fingers. The wooden floor creaked oh so quietly, music from the stereo engulfing them in twinkling notes of a piano tune. The tunes flew and purred, bass of the darker ones vibrating through Erwin’s fingers. He hummed the melody for a few seconds while Levi’s head rested into his shoulder.

“I miss you so much, my love.”

Erwin didn’t hold the tears back. He let them be, pearl down his cheeks silently. The mirror opposite of his bed reflected his wrinkled face, the laughter still caught around his old eyes. They were still blue, Levi would love them with kisses to his temples and a hand clenching over Erwin’s heart. He’d whisper, never scream, and it would smell like mint and black tea again.

Erwin’s feet stopped. He stood in his bedroom, Levi’s shirt pressed to his chest. The air was empty, and the picture of silver eyes and a pale face on his nightstand smiled when Erwin broke down, crumbled on the floor with a ragged sob. The piano’s music died away softly, a last high note echoing in the dirty bedroom. The floor was dusty, piles of clothes pressed into corners. Erwin’s feet had left the first steps in weeks.

His tears smeared the dirt on his face, fell down on the last thing Levi had worn, his white pristine shirt. Erwin fell to the ground, curled into himself and the music made way for an overwhelming silence, once and for all.

“Levi. Levi. My love, why won’t you come back to me…” The shirt caught tears, tiny whimpers at first; and then, at last, the dark sob of a broken man.

Maybe, In A Thousand Years. || sfw

The grey stench of extinct cigarettes is the only dirtiness he allows. Levi wakes up for himself in the morning, not for someone else, and blinks the sun away with mildly hollow eyes when he turns his back to the windows. Thirty steps to the bathroom, shower on, washing himself for an exact amount of five minutes. There can never be enough water. Bar soap is unhygienic, he uses a medical dispenser with white letters on it. The words promise purification. It works for him exactly 90 percent of the time. By noon, he will drown his arms in a sink full of water again, to cover the raw skin in a coat of crystal oblivion.
Levi leaves the house with a jacket neatly closed over his chest. He walks the middle of the pavement, it is his regiment over the chaos roaring in a mind that’s never been his own.

The world isn’t his. Death comes too slowly here, tenaciously sticking to the past and glueing him to an existence he’s never asked for. It’s the famous fucking puzzle where a piece is missing. Levi’s edges are tattered and bitten.

He bumps into someone. Levi looks up and chokes on lukewarm autumn air, he’s always hated breathing so calmly. The man is tall and looms, towers with a wariness lingering between his motions and his hair is too fucking bright, and Levi drowns willingly in his roaring wide-eyed glance. Levi’s fingers slip from his pockets, his mind hits surface with a high-pitched ringing.

Erwin stares. They don’t exchange names, they just know them like an old, long-forgotten lullaby. Levi touches his shoulder, the right one, where an arm feels too thin and flesh gnawed away under the trenchcoat’s wet fabric. Erwin’s hand finds his cheek and brushes up his jaw, finds a calm nest to lie in behind his ear. The old scars they carry burn for the first time in years.
“’s been too long.” Levi licks the salt off his lips, and seconds and centuries later Erwin kisses him. Levi wraps himself around Erwin, dives under his coat and lets him take all the cigarette smoke and strange world away.

“Sure took your time,” Levi whispers. Erwin chuckles somewhere between their mouths claiming each other and his arms pulling Levi away from the street, breath mingling in a symphony of pants and Levi sighing with melting eyes. “I’m sorry,” Erwin says, his voice cracks. Levi believes him.