Safekeeping

by FreyaFallen

Levi becomes infatuated with a young scout and tells Erwin he wants to keep her. DARK FIC. dead dove: do not eat. features dollification kink in both chapters, minor ErwinOC in second chapter, still Levi-centric

1. Kept

Safe keeping

The first time he sees her he almost wonders if it is a joke. She is so young, so fragile, that he thinks she cannot be a cadet. Granted, he's had a slew of fifteen-year-olds come through now, but he has long since gotten over the astonishment of such young people being sacrificed up for the military. It wasn't difficult to come around to the idea, considering his own history. But she… she is something else.

"Levi, are you coming?"

He snaps out of the momentary lapse and nods, catching up to Erwin with ease despite the taller man's long stride. If the commander finds anything odd about what had happened, he doesn't mention it.

Levi forgets about her for a time; they'd been there to check out the new recruits, and to speak on behalf of the Survey Corps, not that most of the brats would listen.

It is maybe a year later that he glimpses her again. She is loping through a courtyard, the wings of freedom on her back, and he jolts to a stop to watch.

It seems wrong. There is no way the girl could face down a Titan and come out the victor; she'd be cannon fodder at best. And it is such a waste, because she is perfect.

Perfect.

The word echoes through his mind as he tears his gaze away from her and goes about his day. She is perfect from the soft length of her limbs— the arms he'd seen while she trained under the cool autumn sun, and the shapely legs he made out from a distance— to her finely crafted features. He wonders if she is as perfect close up, if her hands are small and delicate and breakable, if he could wrap a hand around her forearm, if her weight against him would feel—

It's ridiculous. He's getting distracted by a girl he's seen exactly twice, and fleetingly then. He cannot get her out of his head, and he fears it will only get worse unless he addresses at least some of his curiosity. He hasn't felt like this in years, maybe even a decade or more. So Levi keeps an eye out for the pretty thing that has caught his eye.

She's one of Miche's, but she mingles among the other lower enlisted well enough. When he finally manages to catch onto her schedule, he takes his meals at overlapping times as much as he can. Her smile is beautiful, and the bashful expression that sometimes takes over her features does things to him.

He doesn't want to, but he eventually can't help himself, so he asks, "Oi, Miche. Who's the girl sitting by Petra over there? She's one of yours, yeah?"

"Which one?" Miche turns from his conversation and frowns down the way. "You mean the one with her hair in braids?" Levi nods. "Miller, Gilda Miller." A sly glint comes to his pale eyes. "You're not trying to poach her from me, are you? You already got your pick of the litter."

Levi clicks his tongue. "That little thing? No. I was just wondering how she managed to get through training. I figured Shadis would have chewed her up and spit her out the first week."

"You're judging someone based on appearances?" Miche laughs. "You'd be surprised. She's pretty damn smart, and talented in ODM gear. In earlier years she might have broken the top ten," he brags. "I'm surprised she came to us, honestly."

Gilda Miller. He vaguely recalls the name from when he was going through the information of the incoming brats, in the top quarter of the bunch, but he takes only the best.

He digs through files later to find hers. Knowing who she is now, he combs through every line to learn about her. She's young, but not technically a child, which is something, and has only one living family member, a younger brother. Like so many who had joined in recent years, she became homeless when the Titans attacked the walls.

Her records indeed indicated high capabilities in ODM gear, but a slow runner, subpar hand-to-hand fighter, and overall not the strongest physically. However, she was intelligent and well-mannered, eager to please, obedient, and resilient.

"...despite constantly being at the bottom of the pack, she keeps going. If placed somewhere her skills with ODM gear and/or intellectual capabilities are more highly prized, she might do well. It should also be of note that she is not slow or weak due to a lack of hard work on her part; she is not discouraged by hard work, and only pulled her own weight on hikes and field training through force of spirit."

Again that word rolls through his mind: Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Levi leans back in his seat, eyes catching on her scores. She barely broke ten minutes a mile during training runs. And notes on her hand-to-hand abilities are worrisome. While Titans are the biggest threat to humanity, a pretty girl like her faces many more dangers, some of which wear a human face. He's seen the absolute worst of humanity, seen women bought and sold like chattel. How many times had a customer taken advantage of his mother?

And he knew that shit went on above ground, too. The inner sanctums were full of corrupt bastards who might see her and feel entitled to her charms.

It'd be way too easy for someone to prey on her. She practically has a target on herself, a fawn grazing obliviously in a wolf pack.

She needs protection.

She has a room to herself, something that occasionally happens with females in the Corps. It's nice, but a little lonely considering the forced camaraderie during the years of training. Before that she had Gil.

Gilda and Gilbert. Their names are ridiculous, they know. It's been a point of conversation throughout their lives. They call one another Gil, and it never gets confusing because they always know they mean the other.

The head is down the hall; as is customary, she pounds on the door and slow counts to five before opening it wide. It's empty, so she begins to get ready for her shower. Everyone on their floor knows this is her preferred shower time. Gilda likes to get clean before bed so that she is fresh and clean in her sheets.

She strips down and steps under the streaming water, lathering her hair first. And she uses this time to think.

She has to send money to Gil soon, as well as to the debt collectors, or they'd be coming to see her. That is the last thing Gilda needs. As it is, she is easily the weakest link in her squad.

Joining was an act of desperation; she and Gil were surviving from meal-to-meal, night-to-night; she can't even call what they were doing day-to-day, because that was too large a time period to encompass the way they were living their lives. This way, Gilda can send money for lodging and food for her little brother. He can get an education and maybe even use his exceptional mind for something great.

And the people to whom she is indebted, she can give them money, too. They're patient enough as long as she makes her payments, and Gilda has nothing else to do with her stipend. It goes to Gil and it goes to them.

She knows she's a shit soldier, good for only killing Titans or distracting them long enough for one of her squadmates to do the same. She might— probably will— die at some point sooner rather than later, since scouts drop like flies, but if she helps take out a few of those monsters it will be worth it, right?

The death benefits should take care of most of the debt and some for at least a few years of life for Gil to grow up and get a job. It's the least she can do. For Gil. For the world.

She slips into a long sleep dress once she's scrubbed herself clean and dried her skin. It's too big, barely falling above her feet. The sleeves easily cover her hands to reveal only the last few knuckles of her hands, but it was inexpensive, and that's what matters.

Gilda's house slippers are also too big, but they keep her feet from the freezing floors as she steps into the corridor. It's late, only the moonlight through narrow, sparse windows illuminating the way. The floor is kept clean enough that it gleams.

She closes the door slowly, quietly behind herself, then freezes because she hears some scuffling down the hall. Her head snaps up, wet hair slipping over her shoulders and eyes widening to saucers.

At the end of the hall is a man silhouetted in the lunar light. He's not very tall as those things are usually seen, but he seems larger than life as quiet, steady bootsteps slip rhythmically toward her. "What are you doing out of your room at this hour?"

Gilda's mouth becomes cotton as the man nears enough she can make out his features. She knows who this man is and him standing in front of her, confronting her, is terrifying.

"I—" her voice catches in her throat. "I was taking a shower, sir."

He's close enough she can see the sliver of reflected light in his silver eyes. They dart down to her slippered feet and to her wet hair before piercing through her own gaze. "At this time of night? Were you meeting someone there?"

She hadn't thought her eyes could widen even further, but they have. She's gaping at him. "What?" When his eyes narrow, she stammers, "N-no, sir! It's just that, that…"

"Well?" he snaps impatiently.

"It's the only time I know no one else will be using it," she murmurs at last.

He continues staring silently at her, tips his head so that the long hair swept back from his forehead brushes closer to his eyes. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Private first class Gilda Miller, sir."

"Whose squad are you with?"

"Captain Miche Zacharius, sir."

He nods and considers her carefully. Her heart is thudding loudly in her chest, and Gilda wonders if he can hear it. Captain Levi is more than human, at least by reputation, so she wouldn't be surprised if he can. "Come on, let's get you to your room."

When Gilda steps evenly beside him, she nearly freezes in her skin; a warm weight settles against her lower back as the captain places a hand there to guide her. At his askance look, she continues walking forward on shaky legs. It isn't long until they are outside of her room, and she stops and murmurs, "This is it, sir." He just nudges her forward and lifts a brow as though to tell her to get on with it, so Gilda opens her door and allows the man to guide her through.

He stops in her doorway, studying her neat little shoebox room. It contains her bed made with perfect sharp hospital corners, a locker where her uniforms are hung, a plain desk, and a single wooden chair. Whatever he sees, it must not bother him because he doesn't comment. Instead he watches Gilda step inside and put away her hygiene gear. She has a small hamper under her desk where her dirty laundry goes. And then she turns and stares uncertainly back at the man.

"You don't belong here," he says after a moment, and it's as though a hook just reached down into her chest and tried to tug her inside out. At first she feels crushed; this is the 'humanity's stronger warrior,' and he just told her she's not good enough. Then indignance strikes and her brows furrow.

"I made it through training. I graduated like everyone else."

He shakes his head and steps forward, suddenly right in front of her, close enough to touch. He pushes her wet locks of hair back. "You shouldn't be here. They shouldn't have allowed it. You're—" he licks his lips as he gazes down at her. "You're too perfect." One fingertip runs down her cheek, then he shakes his head again, turns, and leaves her standing there in the middle of her room.

She stares at the door for long moments, wondering what the hell just happened.

Over the next few days Gilda can sense someone watching her as she eats, as she trains, as she goes about her daily business. A few times she glances up from her meal to find slate grey eyes staring unabashedly at her. He narrows them, tilts his head, inspects her when she locks gazes with him, then sometimes a curl tugs at the corner of his mouth before she inevitably looks away.

She keeps going over their meeting in her head, how he'd followed her to her room, the way his finger had trailed over her cheek, what he'd said about her being too perfect for the Survey Corps.

"You okay, Miller?"

Gilda blinks out of her reverie and turns to Oluo. He's in a different squad, but they talk often at meals; he's incorrigibly boastful, but seems harmless enough.

"Ah, yeah. I just… Oluo, you're in Captain Levi's squad, right?"

His brows pinch as he frowns. "Yeah, why?"

"Is he always weird?" The words spill from her before she can think and she almost slaps a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

But the man just laughs. "He's a pretty weird guy, yeah. What, did you have a run in with him?"

"You could say that."

"Well, whatever he said, don't worry about it too much. He's kind of an asshole."

Gilda barks out a laugh, cheeks flushing. She can feel that dark head turn toward her, but she doesn't care. Oluo is right; Captain Levi is an asshole.

And she only solidifies that fact in her head when she goes to train with her squadmates that day. The special operations squad is engaging in hand-to-had training with them, which is great because most of them are pretty fantastic. Gilda hasn't seen their skill before. And then their captains are sparring and she sees Levi in action.

His hands strike like vipers, quick and lethal as they roll the larger man over his shoulder and to the ground. Gilda is aware that shorter people have a natural advantage with throws, but she's never seen one executed with such precision, let alone managed it herself. She always feels so cumbersome.

They practice throws ad nauseum, but she's still clumsy.

"Tch. Don't think about it so much. It should be instinct by now."

Gilda snaps to attention at the captain's smooth voice, cheeks burning. He gestures her sparring partner back. "C'mon, let me show you."

Showing her means executing it on her. Before she can blink her breath is lost as she thuds onto the ground. She didn't even see him move, and now she's staring up at him from her back, her wrist still wrapped in one of his firm fists. Her bones grind in his grip before he tugs her up to her feet. Everything about him is so effortless that it'd steal the oxygen from her lungs had he not already knocked it out of her. "Did you get that?" he asks

Gilda shakes her head as shame heats through her.

Captain Levi rolls his eyes. "I'll break it down for you." He steps into her, grasping her wrist once again. He's taller than she is, like pretty much everyone, so he lowers his center of gravity and hefts her just enough she can feel where she balances on his shoulder, rolling her slowly to the ground from there. It's the gentlest shoulder throw she's ever witnessed. He kneels down by her, watching her wide-eyed visage.

"Got it now?" She nods and he brushes something from her cheek, a soft gesture from a man whose features could be carved from marble. "Good. Try it on me." He grasps her forearm to help her to her feet, then stands opposite to await her movement.

Gilda hesitates before finally grabbing his own wrist. It's thicker than hers, but smaller than many of her sparring partners' have been. It's so firm though, like his frame is steel beneath warm flesh. Gilda's shoulder fits easily in his when she steps into him, and despite his solidity, it's fairly easy for even her to lift him. Though her toss is less of a toss and more of a roll as well.

The captain nods as he stands and dusts off his hands. "Good. Now faster."

By the fifth time she's tossed him, it almost feels right. "Let's see you do it in a match."

Her heart jumps to her throat. He is going to fight her? "Oh, uh—"

"I don't have all day." So they start.

She has no chance. Any time she goes to strike him, Levi is just out of reach. It's too easy for him to dodge her attacks, and his own hits to her are more like a lazy cat batting at a stationary toy. Finally it seems he's annoyed and he throws her. He's not even going at fifty percent, Gilda reckons. Maybe not even twenty, but she still coughs out her breath when she lands, her forearms striking the hard ground to soften it.

Levi shakes his head. "Well, at least you can fall right. You're garbage at landing hits though."

"I know," she mutters, more shame coiling in her stomach.

He grips her jaw in tight fingers and stares into her. "You're too soft for this. I might as well be throwing around a sack of flour."

Gilda tries to jerk her head out of his hand, but it's too firm and he sneers at her pathetic attempt.

"You're a victim waiting to happen," he spits out, and she flinches from her position on the ground. "Useless."

Gilda hisses in a breath at that; he's even more cruel than she thought. "I'm not useless." She's not. She can kill Titans, she knows she can. She's good for the scouts.

He clicks his tongue and pushes her away, not deigning to reply before he leaves her lying on the ground.

Levi paces back and forth in front of Erwin's door. One, two, three, four, turn, two, three, four. When the door finally opens he wonders that he hasn't worn a groove into the floor.

Erwin bids his guest goodbye before raising a brow at the captain. "Yes, Levi?"

The shorter man bullies his way into the office and stands in front of Erwin's desk. His arms cross over his chest and one of his feet taps against the polished floor. But he waits until Erwin has settled into his chair, leaning back and fingers steepled.

"The conversation we had a few weeks ago. Remember it?"

Erwin frowns. "We have a lot of conversations, Levi. You'll have to be more specific."

"You were lecturing me on finding an outlet. It's not healthy to just bury everything," he says, rolling his hand to indicate that the conversation went on and on.

"You've found one?" The commander leans forward in interest. Levi had dismissed his every suggestion, from participating in a sport to shooting at a range, dating to finding a prostitute.

We don't have time to date. It's a waste.

I'm not fucking a working girl, I don't care how 'clean' she might be.

"I might have," Levi accedes. There's something more, a catch, and he suspects Erwin won't like it. "She's one of the newer recruits."

By the widening of his light eyes and the way his shoulders square, this is not at all something Erwin had considered an option. Levi isn't big on casual sex, they've argued the pros and cons of that several times over the years. Levi also knows if he were to start a physical relationship with another scout, as long as they aren't creating issues in the Corps, no one will really care. Still, one of the recruits from the last year or so is a bit surprising. None of them are older than twenty, if that. Levi usually refers to them all as brats.

After a long, still moment, Erwin nods. "Go on."

Erwin hasn't freaked on him, so that's something. Levi pulls up a chair and sits back in it. "Gilda Miller. She's one of Miche's." Erwin's eyes light up in recognition; he's that kind of leader, tries to know every name, every face. "I want her under my command, no one else's. And her duties will change. No more expeditions."

"You want her as a… secretary?" Now Erwin is confused.

"I want her to be mine. She's— shit, have you seen her, Erwin? She shouldn't be a scout. She shouldn't be in the military at all. Why the fuck she joined instead of finding some guy to make her a housewife is beyond me."

Erwin's confusion deepens, hands clasping on his desk. "You want to marry her?" This is not anything anyone could have expected.

"Fuck no." Levi bats away the question with a rough laugh. "No. I just— I just want her."

He's struggling to verbalize what he envisions every time the pretty girl crosses his mind. Her waiting obediently when he returns from the field, allowing him to set her schedule and her diet and her clothing. He's never had the desire to take care of someone before, but it's not even that, not entirely. He wants her to look pretty for him, to let him choose every little aspect of her life. It's been driving him crazy.

Sensing his difficulty, Erwin offers, "Would you like a drink?" Despite the early hour, Levi nods. Erwin gestures toward his sitting area, preparing each of them two fingers of brandy while Levi makes himself comfortable.

This is less formal, and Levi finds himself relaxing into the cushion of his seat as the alcohol burns down his throat. "Why don't you start from the beginning," Erwin prompts.

So Levi does. He goes back to spotting her that first time and his thoughts then, to how he got her name from Miche, how he stalked her for her schedule, followed her to catch her outside of her room one night. He swipes his hair back as he rants about the way her delicate wrist felt in his hand, how he knew he could snap it with no more effort than crushing a butterfly.

"She's just so damned perfect, this fragile little doll that should be sitting on a shelf somewhere, not playing soldier."

"Ah." That ignites something in Erwin's gaze, like the flick of a lighter igniting revelation. "You want to own her."

Levi grits his teeth and hisses out, "Yes."

That's what he wants, and he's tried talking his way around it over and over again, but he can't anymore. He's seen men buy women for a night and what they do with even that sliver of control, and he's seen women whose husbands treat them like possessions, seen human beings for sale on a block in the underground. It's wrong, and he knows it.

But Gilda doesn't belong here. She's clearly not taking care of herself, so wouldn't it be better for her if he took over? He won't abuse her; she'll eat three meals a day, bathe regularly, have clean clothes, a roof over her head. She will be kept in pristine condition.

"Alright." Erwin's gentle, amused agreement snaps him out of his thoughts. "The girl pledged herself to the Survey Corps, and to do what we needed of her. If this is what you need, then this may be the best use for her." The wry twist of his lips prefaced the next words. "It's unusual, and some may argue unethical, but these are unprecedented times. It is far more important that you are able to handle your stress. If you truly believe this is what it takes, then I agree."

Levi taps his fingers against the arm of his chair. "Miche won't like it. He already accused me of possibly poaching her."

"He'll understand." Erwin sighs and downs his drink. "I'll speak with him first thing tomorrow morning."

A band around his chest that Levi hadn't realized was there suddenly loosens. He takes a long breath and relaxes. Just knowing he'll have her soon eases something within him.

Gilda is eating breakfast when it happens. Everyone around her falls silent and the hairs at the back of her neck raise. She slowly turns her chin to peek over her shoulder, and breath catches in her chest when she sees the captain standing there.

His slate eyes stare into her in that peculiar way of his. "Get up."

Is he talking to her? She frantically looks around, but she knows the order is for her, especially when a vice wraps around her bicep and tugs her up. No doubt his grip will bruise her. He pulls her along, out the doors and toward the barracks, almost faster than her feet can fumble beneath her.

"Captain, I—"

"Quiet."

Something is happening, and she has no idea where she falls within it. Dread swirls in her stomach, threatening to bubble up into terror and spread into her chest. He leads her up the stairs, to the corridor she knows so well, and jerks her to halt in front of her door. Gilda fumbles to open it, and he flings her inside so that she stumbles before righting herself, hunched down like a cornered cat.

He steps inside and slowly shuts the door, gaze never leaving her, then he just looks at her for a moment, as though curious what she's going to do.

Gilda licks her lips, searching her room as though something in there will help her though she knows it's in vain. When nothing continues to happen, she finally hazards, "Please, captain. What's going on?"

He releases a scoffing laugh and scrubs a hand through his hair. "Sit down."

That's a good sign, right? She backs half a step and settles on her bed since it's closer than her chair and she wants to obey with alacrity. The captain continues to study her, eyes roving down to her neatly tied boots, clean trousers properly tucked, neat blouse and jacket. Her hair is split into braids for comfort and practicality. Her uniform is always tidy.

She startles when the man turns to her locker to start sorting through her possessions. He flips through her clothes, lingering on skirts and dresses, then pulls something from a hanger and lays it over her chair.

"You are being transferred," he says when he finally turns back to her.

"Oh." This seems like so much more than a mere transfer, so she waits.

A corner of his lips quirk at her silence. "Your job description is also changing. You'll no longer train or go out as a scout."

She frowns. "I'm being kicked out of the scouts?" Shimmering heat floods her vision unbidden as she thinks of leaving her squadmates, her comrades, her friends.

"Not exactly." Gilda blinks away the tears and refocuses on him. "Your new duties will be to do what I tell you." He steps closer, looking down at her from the slight advantage. "And only what I tell you. Do you understand?"

She doesn't, but she's trying. It's such a massive shift that it's like her mind cannot completely encompass it. "I'm like an assistant?" That seems more like something Hange would need.

He tilts her chin with one finger, eyes flicking between her own. It's strange and personal, coils of that dread lashing through her again. "Not quite. Stay still." She has no time to ask before he kneels and begins unlacing her boots. Gilda shifts back, but a hand on her calf serves as enough of a warning to keep her still. He tugs off her boots, works at the straps on her thighs and hips, removes her jacket. When his fingers go to the buttons on her blouse, her hands fly to grab at his wrists.

"What—"

"I said to stay still." His voice is firm and he takes both of her wrists in one hand and continues unthreading her buttons with the other.

"I don't—"

Her hands are released in favor of gripping her jaw hard enough her lips slightly part. "When I give you an order, you follow it. You went through training, yes? You know how to follow orders?" She can only hum assent. "Then obey."

Her blouse is pushed down her shoulders, manipulated off her arms, but he leaves her bra. A firm palm pushes her to lie flat and she whimpers, but he ignores it. Her trousers go next, and her boot socks, and she is shaking and terrified, but he hasn't actually touched those spots she fears most.

Levi eases her to stand, sliding one arm and then the other into the sleeves of a dress, tugging it down and straightening it over her hips. He guides her to sit again and slides stockings up her legs, followed by smoothing the skirt again, then putting her leather-soled slippers on her feet instead of the boots. Once she is fully dressed again, he steps back and nods as though admiring his work, then folds and puts aside the uniform she'd formerly worn.

"Relax," he tells her when he sees she is shaking. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you going to do?" Her voice is hardly above a whisper, full of the tears she's too scared to shed, and she hopes he won't be angry at her.

Instead he sits beside her and turns her chin to face him. "I'm going to take care of you," he says, as though it's the simplest thing in the world.

Gil flashes through her mind, quickly followed by the debt collectors. She wipes her hands against her thighs, noting the way his eyes track them before darting back to her face. "Am I still getting paid?"

Levi hums. "That's right. You take care of your younger brother, don't you?" She nods. "Don't worry, you'll still get your pay." He slides his thumb down her cheek. "You can still send him money, and you'll still be allowed to see him."

He stands again and sighs. "Pack your things. I will be back in an hour to collect you."

"Yes, sir," she murmurs automatically. Whether he hears her as he walks through the door, she has no idea. The second the door closes, she collapses on her bed and releases her tears into her blanket.

What the hell is going on with her life? The captain had undressed her, changed her after telling her she was his- his— she doesn't know exactly what.

She swipes her hands across her face, wiping away the tears. She needs to pack.

There honestly isn't very much; before joining, she and Gil lived out of a back room in a bar that was graciously allowed them in exchange for cleaning, running errands, washing dishes, waiting tables, whatever they could do. Previous to that, they'd lived on the streets since their dad died and they were kicked out of the hovel where they lived with him. That was even before the fall of Wall Maria. Too bad the debt collectors had also survived.

She can fit everything into one duffel, even her hygiene bag easily sliding in. She remakes her bed with the issued blanket rather than the quilt she'd scrounged from home and managed to keep all these years. She thinks her mother made it, but those are old memories.

By the time Captain Levi returns, she has completely re-cleaned the room to make sure it's ready for anyone who might come next.

He doesn't bother knocking, looking around the room in satisfaction. "Good. Come on." He takes the duffel from her and slings it over one shoulder, palm at the small of her back as he leads her away, to a different wing of the large building. The room they enter is larger than hers, though still neat and fairly plain. The bed is a double, the desk a bit nicer and has drawers, a wardrobe, a dresser with books lining the top. It's immaculate. She knows immediately this is the captain's room, and there's that panic again.

He gives a small push toward the chair at the desk. "Sit." It sends waves of curious apprehension through her when he lays her bag on the bed and begins emptying it. He sorts through her belongings, scoffing at some of her clothes, forming different piles between them.

When Levi happens upon her notebook and tin, he pauses. He pops the tin's lid off to eye her charcoal sticks and pencils. That draws him to the notebook. Heat fills her cheeks as she watches him thumb through the thick pages.

Charcoal has always been something easy to find. Sometimes she'd draw on walls for Gil as she told him stories, and sometimes she'd sit and draw moments from her day, or things she remembered. Apples, trees, children… Having access to sticks made for drawing is a luxury, and one of the few she permits herself. Granted, it's inexpensive. Otherwise, her possessions are second-hand.

It seems her captain doesn't approve of the second-hand garments, more than half her clothing pushed aside while he finds homes for the rest. There is a drawer in his dresser deemed hers, and space in his wardrobe. He spreads out her quilt, battered, but clean, well-constructed, then glances at her. He folds it and lays it at the foot of the bed.

Her drawing utensils are last; Levi strides to the desk and puts them in one of the drawers where there is a neat notebook and a few pens already.

She swallows as he looks down at her. "This is your room, isn't it, captain?"

"Yes." His eyes narrow as he considers her again. He sighs and leans against the wall. "I'll need another chair in here. And you need new clothes. Yours are shitty."

Gilda's clenched hands smooth over her thighs; he grabs one of her wrists and she stills.

"You're nervous." He voices the obvious, and she answers in the same vein.

"Yes, sir."

He nods and his thumb glides over the delicate bones of the back of her hand. "Tell me why."

"I'm going to be staying in your room, sir?" Gilda hopes he will offer an explanation.

"Yes." She hiccoughs as breath catches in her chest, and Levi leans over to rub her back. "Hey, calm down." His palm circles calmingly, but he's so close now. "I'm not going to hurt you, but you need to understand."

Gilda blinks through her tears, which have flooded her eyes before she is even aware of them. "What do I need to understand?"

"That you're mine now." Levi kneels and wipes his thumbs over her tear-drenched cheeks, cupping her face. "I told you you're too perfect to be a soldier. I'm going to keep you that way." His lips are soft on her temple.

Soon thereafter he shows her around. Levi's office is attached via the head, which he has all to himself. He unpacks her hygiene bag, taking note of each item and a sneer lighting on his face at each he disapproves of. Like his bedroom, the other two rooms are clean down to the door jambs. He has a small couch on one side of the office and he directs her to sit there.

"Can you put your feet fully on the ground? Sit forward more. Hands like this." He places them folded in her lap. "Chin up. There we go, good girl. Sit quietly for me. I need to do some work."

He sits behind his desk and for the next hour they exist like that, only his movements and only the scratching of pen against paper, shuffling of said documents, his sighs and tuts the sounds filling the air.

Any time Gilda shifts, his attention focuses sharply on her and she immediately stills

At some point there's a knock on the door. "What?" Levi's voice is loud enough it sounds through the door. It opens, and Captain Miche Zacharius peeks, then enters. His eyes widen when they spot her, but he staunters to the chair in front of Levi's desk and drops into it.

"What the fuck is going on, Levi?"

The other captain sets down his pen and scoffs. "Erwin didn't explain it to you?"

"Yeah, he gave me some bullshit about you taking the kid under your wing, or whatever," Miche says. "So you just decided she's, what, your new pet?"

"You got a problem with that?"

Miche's head rolls in her direction and he takes in the way she's quietly, neatly sitting. "Are you okay with this, Miller?" He sounds concerned.

Gilda vacillates on answering, looking between the two men. Levi nods. "I-I guess," she says, and Miche's brows crinkle in concern. "I don't really know what's…" Her hands curl up and shake slightly in her lap and Levi frowns.

"Erwin agreed with me that this is the best place for her. I'll take care of her, and she will be here to aid me as I need."

The two men engage in a staring contest, or perhaps have a conversation she can't be privy to, borne of knowing one another and going through certain experiences she might not understand. Eventually, Miche nods, though it seems he is making quite the concession.

Before he leaves he stops beside Gilda, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. He's a good captain. Take care, kid is what he says without words.

Lunch is delivered for both of them and Levi directs her to eat, serving them some of the tea he hordes.

"I'll teach you how to make it eventually," he tells her. "Don't worry, I'll still let you eat in the mess hall sometimes. I just like having you here."

The confession is contradictory to what she's learned about him so far, but maybe this is part of why she's here. Gilda is still having trouble comprehending it. A pet, Captain Zacharius had said.

"Don't let other people touch you." It's said while stroking her cheek.

After dinner he has her follow back to his room and sits her down. He goes through her things and sighs at the choices. "Come on, to the head."

She was allowed to go to the toilet before the meals, and this was done mercifully alone, but now he steps in beside her and her heart beats in her throat, making a knotted thread of her pulse.

She turns to look at him, eyes wide and fearful of what comes next. She has a suspicion, but…

The captain tugs at the hem of her dress; she flinches back, hands folding over her chest as she hunches in on herself.

"What are you doing?" He's angry, a fine roil bubbling beneath his cool facade. "Put your hands down."

Her lips part, trembling. Gilda wants to speak, but this is beyond the scope of possibility to her. She is standing in the Unknown. "I- I can—"

The grip on her jaw is tighter than before and she knows her muscles will ache when she eats. "If I wanted you to undress yourself, I would tell you. Stop being a brat and put your damn arms down."

She sniffles as she slowly releases her grip on herself, though her shoulders are still raised like the arched back of an anxious cat. He shows his exasperation with another "tch," but otherwise ignores it in favor of pulling her dress over her head. Her shoes are next, surprisingly gentle hands indicating when she should raise a leg, when she should put it back down. The stockings follow, a slow revelation despite having put them on himself.

She shakes, standing there in undergarments only, tears slipping down as he circles and unclasps her bra, pushing it down her arms with fingertips that slide over her skin.

"P-please," she stutters when his hands drop to the hem of her underwear.

He rests his hands there for a second, palms a warm weight on her hips. "Sh." She feels his cheek against her hair; his breath stirs the flyaways. "I'm just cleaning you up, nothing else."

Gilda still whimpers when the last of the clothing drops to the floor.

Levi picks up the discarded garments, separating out the shoes with the rest going into a hamper to the side. He studies her with a measured gaze. She can feel the weight of his shale eyes skimming her shoulders, her breasts, down the curvature of her waist and along her hips, the way she fearfully presses her thighs together without moving her feet. She isn't sure she wants to know what he sees in the inspection.

He walks behind her and she knows he studies her there, too. Then the pattering of the shower startles her. A hand on her waist guides her back, and she soon finds herself under the deluge. It's cool at first, but quickly warms to a comfortable temperature. Quick fingers unweave her hair one braid at time and comb through it until it settles against her with the spill of water.

He splashes water over her, turns her under the stream until she is completely wet, then twists the knob to shut it off. He's holding soap and a rag, and Gilda floods with mortification when he takes one of her wrists in hand, raises her arm, and scrubs along from shoulder to wrist, pit to forearm. His hands knead into hers, then he repeats the process on her other arm. Her chest is next. She can tell Captain Levi doesn't like when she turns her head to look away from him as he soaps up her throat, collarbones, down to her breasts and stomach, but he doesn't say anything. He then does her back, which admittedly feels nice.

It's bizarre when he kneels against the little ledge that differentiates the shower from the rest of the little room, but he washes her feet with the same attention to detail as the rest of her, up her calves, up her thighs.

"Spread your legs further apart. Like parade rest." It's with hesitant, jerking movements that she obeys. While she's terrified of him touching there, he cleans her inner thighs and between in much the same perfunctory manner. It's over quick. Her backside is more of the same.

Her hair is last, and his hands massage the shampoo into her scalp in a way that is almost hypnotic in their soothing motions.

The water is turned back on and he sloughs off the suds with the warm torrent. He gently washes her face once the shampoo is free from her hair, and then the water is off again and he pats her limbs with a towel.

Once she is dry, the man pulls back to consider something, lips twisting wryly. He shakes his head at whatever thought passed through, making sure her feet are dry before she steps out of the shower. He runs a cream through her hair, then dresses her in underwear and a night gown, sliding her slippers onto her feet, guiding her back into the bedroom.

"Sit. I'll be back in a moment." He carries a small stack of clothes into the head with him and she can hear the sizzle of the water as he showers himself.

Why?

The thought is pervasive, weaving through everything about the experience, tipping the little details to inspect them from different angles.

Why does he want to dress her? He doesn't even have her raise her limbs or move much to do so. Why does he want to wash her? As far as she knows, he has no desire to be around children. Most of the younger scouts are "brats," and he claims to barely stand them.

So, why is he taking such pains with her?

She surreptitiously gazes around the room, noting how immaculate every detail is. There is no dust, no little broken threads, nothing on any surface. Every item is organized and precisely placed. He must clean every belonging in the same way he did to her. There is probably no dust behind his row of books, nor underneath his desk.

Is she an object, then? Something for him to put in place and only take out when he's using it.

When he comes back from the shower, the fresh scent of his soap perfuming the room as he opens the door, he sits beside her on the bed and brushes her hair. He is bare chested, just wearing sleep pants. Gilda tries not to note the musculature of his torso.

He works to dry her hair as quickly as he can, then sets about the room doing something, Gilda is left staring at the wall, her feet dangling so that only her toes skim the floor.

"Stand." She slips to the ground; he pulls down the blankets and pushes her back until she lays back on the bed, his hands molding her movements until her head is on the pillow and her body is laid for sleep.

He pulls the sheet and blanket over her, then the lights are gone, the bed dips, and she knows he has climbed onto the other side. Her chest hitches when he lays beside her on his side, facing her. One arm wraps around her waist, tugging her close to his bare chest. The terror surfaces again, but he merely kisses her forehead and settles beside her to sleep.

Levi knows that what he's doing is wrong. It's selfish, taking another person and molding their entire being to suit his life, his preferences. But he just had the best night of sleep in god knows how long. He slept nearly six hours, wrapped around the soft, delicate form of the girl and breathing in the perfume of the slightly sweet soap he'd used on her, and her underlying personal scent, which has a soft, almost floral quality to it when stripped of daily sweat.

He hadn't wanted to get up, to release his hold on her warm, pliable body. He'd wanted so much more, but he made himself get out of bed and begin his daily routine.

His quarters are all clean, barring the bed, which compensates for its unmade state with the lovely creature currently occupying it. He will have to wake her at some point, but for now he's content going about the morning by himself.

Eventually he may allow her to assist in cleaning, learn how to serve tea properly, little things like that. For now he's focused on getting her set in her new role.

Despite the little hiccups, she'd done well yesterday. It's natural that she is modest and embarrassed when her body is bare, but she will get used to him stripping her, washing her, dressing her. As he told her yesterday, he will let her out of his immediate presence later on, but not until he trusts her.

It's a delicate dynamic he's trying to build, but she seems well-suited enough. Already, he's reaping the benefits of having her. If he'd known this is what it would take, he might have sought out a woman sooner.

Then again he didn't realize exactly what he wanted until he met her, though there had been signs along the way.

She's confused; Levi knows he has to assuage her as a person along with taking care of her physical needs, but he has never been one for deep, meaningful conversations. The closest he gets is with Erwin. However, he needs to earn her trust as much as she needs to earn his. He has to soothe her fears, let her know her place, and give her boundaries. He knows how to train scouts, and there are elements that will be similar despite the differing end products.

Instant willing obedience will still be first and foremost.

She shifts in her sleep, a crease forming between her brows, then smoothing over again. She must be closer to wakefulness. Levi strides to her, strokes the back of his hand over her soft cheek. Her eyes bat sleepily open until they focus and she stills in easily recognizable fear.

"It's time to wake up." He backs away and she hesitates before sitting up in the bed. He presses a breakfast tea blend against the back of one of her hands and she cups it, every movement delayed as she anticipates his reactions.

He allows her time to drink and come to terms with her situation again, sorting through to choose what she'll wear for the day, setting everything atop the dresser, then he carries his chair to set it beside the bed, facing her.

"I imagine you're confused about what's going on," he drawls. Her eyes widen again and she gives a half-shrug-half-nod. "You may speak."

Gilda rolls the meat of her bottom lips through her teeth, a motion that is both distracting and irritating; he'll have to break that habit. "I'm a possession?"

His brows twitch up in surprise that she's come to the conclusion so quickly. "Yes."

"Why?" Her voice cracks a little on the word.

Levi sighs and thinks on how to word this, how to tell her so she'll understand. "You ever get stressed?" She nods. "Me too. My life revolves around the scouts, our missions, our objectives, taking care of my people. It's exhausting, and I don't have many options to relieve that stress." She tips her head and he can read the question that would come next. "I've tried different things. I collect tea. I clean. I usually sleep two to four hours, when I can sleep at all. I don't have the time to devote to a relationship, and I don't go to prostitutes. I get irritated easily, and I don't balk at violence. I need a way to relieve that pressure."

She thinks about that, those sweet eyes contemplative. "What exactly do you get out of this?" The tremble in her voice gives away some of her worry. "You could just get a pet."

Levi hums. "I could, but I don't want to pick up shit or deal with fur."

"But you still have to-to take care of me."

"Yes." He strokes a few fingers through her sleep tangled hair; he'll need to brush it. "But taking care of you is different. I slept decently last night, and I'm looking forward to the day." That last is harder to admit than he thought. "You might be a possession, but you're a prized one. I want to take care of you."

"I'm like a doll, then?"

She's astute, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "The training phase is hard, but it won't be like this forever. You'll earn privileges, and like I said, you'll be able to see your brother and provide for him. It won't be a bad life."

She's anxious as she says, "What if you die?"

"Humanity's strongest" or not, Levi knows better than most that he risks death every time he steps into Titan territory, so it's a fair question. "I'll make arrangements."

She stews in that.

"That's enough questions for now. Sit here." He stands to fetch the brush and pulls her hair back to sort through it. "From now on, you're to do what I say. If I haven't given you an order, assume you're to stay as you are. Keep quiet unless I give you permission to speak. I will clean you, dress you, position and handle you as I want. You may use the toilet on your own, and you may feed yourself when given food, drink when given something to drink. If you are ever in doubt, look to me. I'll do my best to make what I want clear. If you don't understand, say so now."

When she says nothing, he breathes out, "Good girl." His hands slip to the skin between shoulder and throat, thumbs stoking along her nape. "You did well yesterday, for your first day. If you continue doing well, you'll be out of this phase in no time." He tips her chin so she can see his face, dips down to kiss her cheek. It's novel to touch someone so intimately.

The silk of her skin is addictive. If he'd thought touching her was pleasant in the small moments he'd managed that evening in the hall or out on the training field, it is nothing to the absolute pleasure of skimming along her soft arms as he changed her clothing, or the sensuality of her soap-slick body in his hands.

And she was beautiful. He'd needed to restrain himself yesterday, refrain from tracing her modest curves with fingers and lips and tongue. He had kept it so perfunctory, a little block to build that foundation with her. While he wants her in every way, this is not something that stems from lust; it's much deeper than that.

Levi allows her to make her morning ablutions, instructing her to wash as needed while in the head, then he removes the nightgown, noting with satisfaction how she does not flinch away from him. "Good girl."

He needs to get her new clothing; while her issued uniforms are all in good shape, that is not what she will be wearing from here on out; her civilian clothes are mostly threadbare, hardly serviceable. She is in her one skirt and one of the few blouses that meets his standards. Levi braids her hair with quick fingers and secures it, then steps back to inspect his work.

He jots down a list, looking back at her and adding approximate numbers, then puts his writing utensils away.

"Come." She stands beside him, directed to the nondominant side, and they head to the mess hall. A few eyebrows raise when they sit together, but no one says anything about her presence. Hange stares in fascination, but they don't question it. Maybe Erwin talked to them as well.

As usual, Hange is going on about Titans. They'll need to go somewhere more suitable soon to deal with the Jaeger kid's training. What a bother. He has a place in mind, but he'd rather put it off until his girl is settled.

The thought sends a strange, warm jolt through him. Levi lays a hand on her leg, smoothes his palm over it, returns to his business.

"Up," he tells her when they have both eaten their fill. He has a full agenda today. It will be a test of her ability to follow the directions he gave her this morning.

Erwin looks at her a few times during their meeting, and Levi figures it's mostly curiosity on how he's structuring their dynamic— not relationship, he shies away from that word. She's in the sitting area, her ankles demurely crossed and her hands folded in her lap, staring forward. Levi doesn't want her to be too much of a distraction.

Too pretty, too sweet.

He'd sent Petra to town; she knows him, knows the girl, will make a better job of it than Levi could himself. She will be able to guess sizes nearer as well. Apparently all of this is not a moment too soon.

"Tomorrow?" He scoffs. "It has to be tomorrow."

Hange nods and goes on about needing space. They haven't been out at Headquarters in long enough that he's almost dreading the return, though he prefers his quarters there to the more cramped ones here.

He now has a metric shitton of preparations to do, least of which is getting the girl ready.

Hange and the rest leave and he's sitting there at the table and staring at Erwin. The larger man nods toward the sitting area and he sighs, striding over to sit beside Gilda.

Levi maneuvers her chin with forefinger and thumb and her eyes refocus on him. "Are you doing alright?" Her lips part, then close again in reticence. He can feel Erwin staring now. "You can answer."

"I'm fine, sir."

His thumb strokes along her bottom lip. It's even softer than other parts of her.

"So." The large man lowers himself into his usual armchair, interrupting the moment in a way that Levi almost appreciates, given that he was beginning to have certain thoughts. "How has the transition been going?" He studies the girl from her shoes to her hair.

"It would go better if we didn't have to spend tomorrow traveling. Damnit, Erwin, I only got her yesterday." He grits his teeth, laying a hand over one of hers and soothing his thumb on the thin skin stretched over delicate bones.

Erwin is amused, not at all put off by the strange tableau. "It's necessary to deal with the Jaeger situation. And I have complete faith in your ability to handle the girl." His blue eyes shift to her again. "And how are you, Miss Miller?"

Gilda blinks and subtly turns toward Levi. He nods.

"I am well, sir." Her voice is just as demure as her position, and it pleases Levi that she is naturally soft spoken. He strokes the inside of her wrist.

"And how are you taking to Levi's care?"

Levi continues the ministrations, wondering if she will understand that he is allowing her to talk to Erwin at leisure for the moment.

She licks her lips before speaking. "The captain is understanding of my mistakes. I- I'm trying."

"Levi." His free hand cups her cheek and turns her attention back to him. "You call me Levi now."

"Yes, sir," she breathes shyly.

Her skin is so smooth against his palm. "Say it for me."

He doesn't move his eyes from her face even when she swallows, the line of her throat exceptionally tempting. "Levi."

"Good girl." He adores the way she says his name. He wants to have her repeat it, but they still have an audience.

An audience who is watching them with keen interest.

Erwin's blue eyes glimmer with something Levi rarely sees in the other man, an emotion he has a hard time putting words to, except that it's reminiscent of when the other man talks about what's outside the walls and beyond the Titans.

The two of them are kindreds in many ways; both of them have too much on their plates and spend their evenings buried in sleepless regret. Only now Levi might have relief, and he's sure Erwin is imagining himself with an outlet other than brandy or sex, neither of which are healthy or provide long-lasting relief. Erwin is a romantic, the sort of man who would have a wife and children in a different life. That dream was dashed young, thanks to what happened with his father.

That had been quite the conversation, learning about Erwin's father's body found beaten, destroyed. He'd taught history, and it was he who had inspired the longing for the world beyond the wall in his son. They'd both been children who had imagined something more.

"I truly think things will be fine, Levi. Clearly, the two of you are settling well. And it may be good being away from this place and her former squadmates."

He has a point. Levi nods. "I suppose I should begin preparations."

"I suppose," Erwin echoed, a smile still hinting at his lips. He watches the pair leave.

Levi has Gilda follow him as he spreads word, sends his scouts packing and readying supplies. Petra eventually returns and he directs the young woman to deliver the goods to his office, where Levi finds himself after hours of god-forsaken brat-wrangling. He starts packing up his office first, so much of it files, and then he sorts through the new clothing he'd had to entrust to one of less-idiotic scouts to fetch.

"Come here." Gilda rises from the settee and stands static before him, which makes it much easier to decide if anything passes muster. Petra didn't do a bad job. Everything is fairly safe color-wise, and close enough in size that it will all work. It's also better than the shit she owns. It'll do.

That's packed when he gets to the bedroom, but he takes Gilda to the shower before packing up the head.

She is much more docile as he undresses her this time, though he can feel the blush radiating from her cheeks. It's endearing. He wants to lay his palms over her cheeks and see if her lips are warm against his. Instead he directs her beneath the stream so he can soap her sweet curves. When he slides the wash rag down her spine, he has to remind himself to refrain from scaring her, which means reigning in the desires flooding his veins.

He takes a deep breath and pushes through, which is especially important considering he soon kneels to scrub up her legs, her soft thighs, her…

Beautiful.

Every inch of her is beautiful, and he could lavish affection on her for hours. He wants to lotion her soft skin, see how much softer and smoother she can become, but he knows that would push her too far for now, so he settles for finishing her shower and patting her dry.

He dresses her in a new nightgown, one that is a bit shorter than she's used to, he's sure, but it is silken and the blue color is lovely with her complexion.

"I have more to do tonight. Why don't you sit at the desk and draw? You could also read if you prefer."

She goes obediently and Levi adores the way she sits how he's taught her. He sets about packing the bedroom except for what they will need tomorrow, surreptitious glances directed toward Gilda and her hands gliding across her open sketchbook. Then it's time for his own shower.

As he washes himself, he remembers again how her skin felt beneath his hands, how sweet and soft her thighs were, the prurience of her breasts. This creates a problem for him, one he's never enjoyed handling, but it's better for him to take care of it in here than risk it scaring the girl later when they are curled up in bed. He's trying to make this easy for her, after all. There will be time for all of that later.

So Levi wraps his hand around himself and pumps, eyes tightly closed to recall his girl's beauty, flashing images of cleaning between her thighs, wondering how she'd taste, how she'd squirm if he tossed aside the rag to part her lower lips and explore her folds, find all the spots that would light her on fire.

"Shit." He spills on the shower floor, sneering at himself for behaving like a hormonal teenager. At least it's easy to rinse down with the soap and dirt. Hopefully he won't have to deal with the problem again before morning.

He pads back into his room to happen upon the girl humming as she uses a charcoal stick. It's endearing. Levi places a hand on her shoulder, and she peeks over her shoulder at him, embarrassed at being caught out.

"You're fine, sweetheart." He strokes her cheek. The drawing is of a Titan, the strange proportions absurd considering the figures suggested in blurred lines. "Ready for bed?" She nods. "Go clean the charcoal from your fingers."

He could never do what she does; the sight of grey smudges covering his hands would make his skin crawl.

Levi turns off the light, the moon through the window limning the room in ethereal silver. He pulls back the blankets and sits on the bed, gesturing for her to join once she comes back out. She shyly slides into her side, lies on her back, letting him cover them both. She stiffens when he wraps himself around her, tugging her close, breathing in her sweet scent. He runs his fingers over the tiny hairs on her arm. She relaxes in his hold when he makes no other moves and Levi smiles in the darkness. His girl is growing more used to him and his touches by the day.

The journey to the old headquarters of the Recon Corps is tiring. Gilda is not used to riding on horseback, though she knew how since it was part of training. It didn't matter; Levi has her ride with him, his body pressed against hers the entire journey.

Upon arrival he takes her to his quarters and tells her she can sit there quietly, or she can clean up while he oversees the field-daying of the rest of the building. There are cobwebs and dust bunnies in every corner. Gilda opts to clean.

His rooms, from office to bedroom, are all larger and better appointed than at the previous barracks. The furniture is solid wood, something Levi definitely picked out himself, she can just tell. The bed is half-again as large as the other one, too. All of the furniture matches, even that in the office.

She dusts with the rags that Levi left for her, using a step stool set aside to reach higher up.

A warm weight presses against her lower back and she looks down to see the captain watching her with keen grey eyes.

"You've done a decent job in here. Did you finish the head as well?"

"Yes," she murmurs, taking his assistance stepping down. "I unpacked the bedding to make the bed. I hope you don't mind." She had taken initiative, and suddenly realizes that he may be displeased with her doing something he did not expressly tell her to do.

"Organization is an important part of cleaning," Levi assures her, seeming to have caught up to her worries. "Let's take a look." He guides her through his room, pausing to take stock of her work, a finger across a surface here, a squinting gaze there. "You know how to clean windows. Good." He turns and lays his hands on her hips, and Gilda swallows thickly at the familiar touch. He is slowly becoming more physically affectionate with her, and she tries not to read into it, but it raises gooseflesh down her spine every time. "You must feel starved. Let's get something to eat before it gets any later."

It's a simple meal since everyone has been cleaning, but she is ravenous. The simple fare is warm and pleasant and slides deliciously down her throat. Porridge may be something others scoff at, but she's always liked how filling it is.

"Slow down, the food isn't going anywhere," Levi admonishes. Gilda blushes and lowers her spoon to take a moment. "You don't want a stomach ache, do you?"

"No. Sorry, Levi."

He rubs a palm on her thigh in what she's certain is meant to be a reassuring gesture. "Just slow down."

He doesn't remove his hand.

Today is the first day she's worn trousers around Levi since all of this happened. They are now the only pair she owns.

"It's not that you look bad in them," Levi explains once they're stripped from her. "I prefer a softer look for you, more delicate." His eyes are hazy as his thumb runs across her lips, the other hand loosing her hair.

He's especially attentive as he washes her, sloughing off the soap, then running the washcloth over her again as he rinses her. He suds up her hair again, his mouth close to her shoulder as he works. His lips graze the sensitive skin near the base of her neck. He takes a deep breath and the exhale tickles her nerve endings. When he dries her, one hand trails her side as though to steady himself, but there's no pressure to hold him.

Once dressed, he guides her to the bed and presses a book into her hands. "Read here. I have some things to take care of before I shower." He eyes her serene face and leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Good girl."

It's a book about a horse breeder in one of the outer districts, a narrative focused on a foster child healing through bonding with the horses. It's pretty good, though, and she finds herself immersed enough that she doesn't realize Levi has returned until the bed dips and he's beside her.

"Not bad, huh?"

Gilda blinks out of her imagination and back to the present, where she's a possession of the fiercest captain in the military. "Yes. I'm enjoying it."

He hums, hooking a long lock of hair behind her ear, finger lingering. "You're a fast reader."

"My mother taught me before she passed, and I read to my brother growing up," she murmurs.

"Hmm. Would you read to me?" It's unexpected and she turns to face him; he's closer than she realized, a breath away. "No one's ever read to me before."

She nods and opens the book, which had laid forgotten in her lap.

Levi wriggles an arm around and he pulls her against him as she begins.

He falls asleep to the cadence of her voice. She puts aside the book and puts out the light on the side table; he stirs, pulling her down the bed to lie on the pillows, holding her head to his chest. Eventually, she drifts off, too.

It becomes routine. Levi always wakes first, making tea and eliminating any dust that may have accumulated during the night. He wakes her in time to get ready for breakfast, wherein they usually sit with Hange and their assistant, Moblit.

Sometimes she follows him as he works, like when he goes to meetings, or when he's immersed in paperwork. When he trains with his squad, she either gets to sit in the shade and read or draw, or stay in the bedroom and do the same.

Gilda feels worse than useless. She takes up resources, but does nothing valuable to contribute, yet no one says anything to her about it despite the eyes she feels when she's at Levi's side.

However, there have been comments about how well-rested Levi is, or how he seems a little less grumpy (these comments are only made by a select few, or she reckons he may have killed someone). That's something, though it also makes her feel like a tool, an object. She supposes she is.

"Pretty girl," he cooes against her nape as gathers her hair, using a brush he'd bought especially for her to run through her hair. "You're so soft, so perfect." His slate eyes are heavy-lidded as he nuzzles her shoulder. He is in an affectionate mood, setting aside the brush to run his hands from shoulders to wrists, then settling his hands on her waist, stroking her sides and her stomach, running circles over her stomach and ribs. "You've been so good for me, sweetheart."

He lays gentle kisses on her throat, down to her shoulder. When he reaches the strap of her nightgown, he slips it down. His fingers skid up to do the same on the other side.

Gilda tenses, throat tight. He slides her nightgown further down, exposing more of her chest to pet. When the pale material slips to pool around her hips, she whimpers.

"Shh, sweetheart. Keep being a good girl for me." His hands cup her breasts, gentle despite the rough calluses lining them.

It's the first time tears have drowned her since the first— or perhaps the second night. "Please, Levi."

His thumbs brush over her nipples. "It's alright, love. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I've never—"

"I know." One palm slips down to smooth over her thigh, the nightgown riding up. "I'll take care of you. That's why you're here, after all."

Those words send a lance of lightning fear through her. She should have expected this, and she has, though she's buried it deep under a mountain of reassurance. He's said over and over that he won't hurt her, that she should relax; he was only cleaning her or dressing her or drying her or… but now there was no 'only,' just his hands and his mouth as he planted love bites on her skin.

He tips her chin and his lips are on hers. His tongue swipes at the seam of her mouth and when she whimpers again, his tongue dips into her, running against her own and exploring her entirely.

He lays her down over the bedspread, tugging off the nightgown completely. His eyes drink her in hungrily, and his hands soon follow. Levi licks and bites and nibbles down her body until he hovers over her hips. Deft fingers skim up her hips and under the lacy material covering that last bit of her. It's soon pulled down her legs and discarded.

A shuddering breath leaves him as his fingers spread her open. "Perfect." He drips down to taste her there, claiming as thoroughly as he had her mouth. The unfamiliar sensations lance through her veins, her hips jolting up in shock. Levi chuckles against her flesh, then pulls away to watch her face as he strokes his fingers over her to find what her body craves. When her toes curl, when she bites her lip, when sounds force themselves from her throat without permission, he takes note. By the time his forefinger eases inside of her, she is plenty ready, and then he is repeating the process there.

He has her pleasure mapped, mouth and other hand trailing over her body to find the rhythms of her body. Prurient nipples are hardened, spit and the imprint of teeth garnish her skin.

"Can you come for me, sweetheart?"

Her eyes tear as he pulls pleasure from her, twining it painfully through her body until she snaps. She sobs as she crests, and Levi stares up at her with lustful adoration. When she lays bonelessly panting on the bed, he removes his fingers to suck her juices from them, then planting his knees on either side of her thighs, leaning down on his forearms to nuzzle against her.

"Such a good girl for me." A weight rests heavily against her pubis, wetness dripping from it and calling her attention to that part of him. Before she can look down at the offending member, he has reached to adjust himself. The head slicks itself from her before he places it at her entrance. "Take a deep breath for me. There's my girl. Let it out."

A whimper catches in her throat as he thrusts his hips against her, pushing into her with an unfamiliar stretch.

"Sh, sh." He cups her cheek and kisses her gently, giving her momentary respite until she can breathe evenly again. "Good girl." Levi eases himself the rest of the way into her, until he is fully buried and sighing as he presses his forehead against her.

The gentle thrusts gradually become more forceful and she imagines he is bruising her inside, though there is an angling of his movements that catches on one of those sweet spots inside her. It's pulling that cord of pleasure again, winding up her insides until she feels like a river about to overflow. The dam breaks and she shatters. Levi grits his teeth over her, cursing as she tightens, milking him through his continued thrusts. As her crest peters away, his own is upon him. He thrusts one last time, harder, deeper, and spills inside of her.

Hot pants against her ear accompany Levi falling over her body, combing her hair until he comes down.

"You did so well, sweetheart." He kisses her throat and rolls to his side, pulling her to his chest.

It is a familiar position by now, almost comforting in its normalcy. It doesn't last long; he extracts himself from the bed to fetch a towel and wipe her down. The last place he cleans is between her legs, and he smirks as he wipes away their combined juices. The towel goes in the hamper and Levi returns to bed. They lay together for some time until he finally gives into the need to properly shower them both.

It is the first time she has ever showered with Levi rather than by him. It is also the first time she has seen him bare. He is honed muscle despite his slim build, thighs thicker looking out of his trousers. And then there is the part of him that brought her pain, which she refuses to dwell on. The second her eyes alight on it, she hastily looks away. It only amuses Levi.

Hands and lips still rain affection on her, the foreboding captain especially enamored of her post coital.

"Are you alright, love?" His voice is low and warm.

She feels a little like a doe with her weakened knees and wide eyes. Her core strings, but otherwise it is only the inside of her that's been made into wreckage. There is confusion and sorrow and something warm that only stokes the confusion. But she only murmurs, "I am."

His hands are the only reason she stays standing, even as he soaps her body and his own. He wraps and arm around her as he rinses them down, taking care to gently remove excess fluids from between her thighs. He dries them both, her first so that she can sit while he finishes himself, and she notices that he grew hard in the duration of their shower.

Her eyes widen, cheeks burning. When Levi sees, he chuckles. "It'll go away on its own. Don't worry about it, it's just the effect you have on me."

He hefts her weight in a bridal carry like it's nothing, laying her nude on the bed. "Why don't you go to the mess hall on your own for breakfast tomorrow morning?" he murmurs into her throat, holding her body entwined with his.

It is the first time he's suggested her doing anything on her own outside the room. On a normal day, he has her close enough to touch unless Gilda sits like a princess in a castle.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, love." Levi strokes her hair and lays his cheek against her. "I trust you to be good."

In the morning he puts her in a pretty little dress and braids her hair neatly. Levi escorts her to the mess hall, laying a soft kiss on her lips before he leaves her there to go to a meeting. He will pick her up once he's finished, and she is to wait patiently if she finishes eating first.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Jean grins up at her as she approaches the table. The newer recruits are more like her, both closer in age and less familiar with Levi than she is, so she feels a sort of kindred with them that makes friendship easy.

Gilda blushes and sits. "What are you talking about?"

He clears his throat. "So, how is the captain treating you?"

"I— well," she responds. "He takes care of me." Gilda knows there is at least one love bite that a discerning eye will find, and Jean is keen enough in his inspection there's no doubt he's seen it.

"Is that what you call it?" Eren Jaeger isn't a friend; she has interacted with him sparingly, but he slides in opposite of her and his green eyes hone in on her neckline and the visible teeth marks.

Gilda cannot meet his gaze. "I have everything I need."

He nods, still eyeing the marks. "Is it fun?"

"What?"

"The sex. I mean, it's obvious that's what's going on. Is the captain any good at it?"

Mikasa, never far from Eren, bats reprimandingly at the back of his head and hisses his name.

"What?" the boy whines. "We're all thinking it."

"No," Armin chimes. "No, that's just you, Eren."

Eren himself is flabbergasted, stuttering denials as his friends laugh at him.

"Really though." Jean leans toward her to express his concern, a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She turns to meet his gaze and finds they are sharing breath, noses nearly touching. "What do you mean?"

His warm eyes are intense, brows furrowed. "You look different." He struggles for the words. "Like, paler, but not really, you know?"

Gilda licks dry lips, a habit Levi has told her to quit more than once. She ponders how to answer, but never gets to make reply; she's interrupted as she starts to speak.

"What's going on here?"

She jumps in her seat, creating space between herself and the boy. Levi's eyes are like obsidian daggers as he glances at Jean, then back to her.

"Nothing," she assures him. "Jean was just trying to talk to me through the ruckus."

Steel grips her bicep, tugging her upward. "Tch. I'm sure. Get the hell up."

Gilda stumbles trying to keep up with the short man as he drags her toward their quarters.

"Lev—"

"Shut up."

She swallows thickly. "But—"

Breath barks out of her lungs as he turns on her, slamming her against cold stone walls. "What about 'shut up' is unclear? Huh?"

"I—"

"Shut. Up." Each word is punctuated by another shove; she's trembling in his grasp. "I don't want to hear your shitty excuses why you were letting him touch you, so shut your goddamn mouth."

Gilda nods as tears flood her eyes, and this seems enough to appease him. Levi grasps one of her wrists and continues dragging her to their quarters.

When they enter, he nearly throws her into the room. Her thighs hit the bed and she plants her palms on the mattress to catch herself.

He's on her then, shoving her head against the blanket and pushing her skirt up her hips. She hears the tear of thin fabric before she can register what's happening, then he's inside her. It burns and she thrashes, but her struggles are ineffective since her torso is pinned by his stern grip holding the back of her neck.

"I told you not to let anyone touch you, didn't I?" he seethes. "I told you that you are mine. Get it through your shitty fucking head. No one touches you, not shitty Kirschtein, not anyone." His thrusts are rough, hitting painful top every time, before he grabs her hips and throws her further onto the bed.

He rolls her onto her back, and Gilda attempts to curl up, but he shoves her down, planting his knees so they dig into her thighs, and tearing her dress from her body. When she closes her eyes in a vain effort to hide, he backhands her hard enough she sees stars. "Look at me. Don't you dare look away again."

Levi adjusts himself to press back into her and she sobs. Iron grips her hips as he thrusts and his thumbs stroke her flesh. "There we go. That's it. Now tell me who you belong to."

Gilda sniffles, biting her lip, uncertain if it's safer to stay silent or answer his demand.

The casual strike to her cheek is enough. "You," she chokes out.

"Say my name." His thrusts punctuate his words.

Through her sobs, she stutters his name. "L-Levi."

"Louder."

One hand dips between her legs to play at her apex and unwilling pleasure stirs through her despair. She cries it out this time. "Levi!"

A rough thumb demands as harshly as his voice, "Keep saying it."

She is forced over the edge, clenching around him, repeating his name. As she comes around him, Levi eases her legs over his shoulders and folds her body in half to pound into her, groaning against her ear, following her peak with his own.

He rolls onto his back beside her, a hand behind his head as he regains his breath. "You won't make that mistake again, will you?"

Wiping away her tears, she murmurs, "No, Levi."

His free hand runs gently over the curve from ribs to hip, fingertips gentle now that he has written his rage into her skin. "You're so soft." His words are lazy, matching his heavy-lidded eyes. "Softer than you were when you were still training. It suits you."

"I feel weak," she confesses in a coarse whisper.

Levi props himself on his side to stare at her profile, her own gaze on the ceiling. "You are weak," he agrees, as though it's the most obvious thing in the walls. "The first time I saw you, I knew you were something meant to be protected. I didn't know anything about you, not even your name. You were just a little cadet training to become a soldier." He thumbs one of her nipples, skims down the roundness of her breast. "The second time I saw you was when you were already a scout. Stupid little brat. All I could think about was how you didn't belong, how you needed someone to stop you from this nonsense."

She frowns at his strange confession. "I was okay."

Levi scoffs. "No, sweetheart. You weren't. You were Titan fodder waiting to be eaten." He plants a gentle kiss against her soft lips. "Now, you're safe. I'll never let anything harm you." He rolls back onto her, already hard and ready to go, but this time he's soft, fingers working her to the rhythm of his rocking hips until she breaks apart. Once he's spent again, he curls around her and falls asleep.

Gilda is still haunted by Levi's admissions. She knows now this was always going to happen. From the moment Levi first laid eyes on her, this was inevitable; she was always going to be his.