man, i'm back on an snk hype.

p.s. team petra

This was actually an inappropriate time to be thinking about Mikasa, but that didn't stop him. In fact, Levi would even admit that maybe the insolent girl was halfway correct. And by halfway, he meant completely.

"Oh," Petra breathed with romantic sighs and communicated with placid arches of the back. "Levi."

He watched himself languidly slide in and out of her, using one hand to keep himself supported over her, and the other to massage the expanse of her golden skin. Everything about her was golden. Her skin, her hair, and eyes. It was like she was the sun, so warm and assuring and bright. Levi might as well be fucking the sun.

"You can go faster," She whispered with closed eyes. Levi felt the way she held onto him closer. "Just please be gentle."

With that go-ahead, Levi wasted no time in upping the frequency of his thrusts. She always asked him to be gentle, but he never bothered making a conscious effort to actually do such a thing. He wouldn't hurt her, but with Mikasa at the forefront of his mind, there wasn't any stopping just how frantic he would get.

Yes, Mikasa. Mikasa. He watched Petra's face, studied the way her brows furrowed and her eyes cemented shut. When he was sure that she was lost in her own path to orgasm, he'd give himself permission to say her name again. Mikasa. He could only imagine the way her skin felt, pale and icy under his fingers, smooth but interrupted every few inches with a scar. With Petra as his model for shaping, he tried to feel her skin the way he'd feel the frost of winter.

Fucking Mikasa Ackerman. Levi weaved the fingers of a hand through Petra's apricot hair, slowly tightening his grip at the roots. Her hair was smooth and tame and finely cut into a clean style, but Levi tugged harder as each individual strand of hair darkened in his imagination. He could feel Petra's uncomfortable grimacing, but there wasn't any stopping or slowing. Mikasa's hair was messy and silky and covered half of her face, and now as far as Levi was concerned, it was tightly wound through his fingers.

Levi was sweating, feeling even the delicate weight of single beads of sweat running down his spine. The slapping of skin on skin echoed in the room, mixing with various grunts and moans. "F-Fuck—" He managed to squeeze his eyes even tighter. "M-Mika—"

Those eyes that were so tightly shut, were now wide open with mortified guilt. He was so strict about even the breaths that ever left his mouth, so Levi was shocked he lost himself long enough to let her name almost slip. Petra seemed lost in her own little whimpers, so he hoped his mistake flew under the radar.

She was right, when she had her tongue on his cock and his heart in her grip, when she said what she said. He did think of Mikasa Ackerman instead of Petra, instead of anyone, and he lusted for her in a way he didn't even really understand. Levi decided to just focus on the ins and outs of intercourse.

Eventually, Levi came in his own hand, with Petra watching. She fixed her hair, he cleaned himself, and they both laid still in the bed.

He thought he was in the clear when her breathing turned soporific, and he started making his move to maybe escape to the kitchen or library or bathroom or anywhere, really, and let Petra sleep in peace, but she spoke with a voice that was anywhere but near tired as soon as Levi let the mattress squeak. "I heard you wanting to say her name."

What really made Levi feel like trash, other than the fact he was inherently trash, was that she wasn't angry or confrontational. She was sadly stating the truth, and yet he decided to lie anyway. "I didn't, though."

"Do you love her?"

Levi had to give credit to her bravery. It was a gutsy question, but then again, Petra Ral was a gutsy woman. He felt like having a long drink, then puke it up. Not just because of this guilt he felt for hurting such a much better deserving woman, but because he didn't even know how to answer her question. He decided to go with the most simple answer he knew by heart. "I don't love anybody."

There was that quiver in her inflection, signifying the oncoming tears that were trying so hard to be choked back down. "Not even me?"

Never Petra. And as far as he needed to be concerned, never Mikasa. "I'm sorry."

It was Levi's night off, and as any self-respecting professional under the command of the most powerful man in a hundred-mile radius would do, he decided to go into town for the sole intention of getting drunk. While he was technically still young, his mentality was well into seniority, so as he walked the streets of the nearby town, he skipped past every bar and social hub with looks akin to severe condescension. He wasn't one to stagger in the streets with every vital function impaired, so it was decided long before even leaving the castle that he would purchase his own bottle of well-priced liquor and keep to himself.

The market wasn't as hectic as Wall Sina markets, but for the small size of the town, this was still a sizeable crowd, one far too large for Levi's liking. He kept his elbows to himself, his head slightly bowed under the weight of his hood, and hoped that Erwin Smith's emblem on his cloak was enough for the citizens to understand they had to stay out of the way. There were several venues that sold bottles of liquor, but he preferred the one ran by the old man who whittled away at chunks of wood, hardly asked questions, and kept his shop in a very organized and clean manner.

While Levi squinted his eyes at bottle labels, the man hummed as he scraped his knife against his hunk of wood. This night, the man was surprisingly talkative, which Levi was surprised to find he didn't exactly mind. "Why are you always here alone?"

He wasn't sure if he wanted a light or dark liquor. "I could humor you with the same question."

"Fair enough," And right when Levi assumed that was the end of the exchange, the man cleared his throat before continuing. "I outlived my wife, and the one after her. You're too young and strapping to be shopping for enough booze to forget you're alone."

Levi read and reread the label of the whiskey on the shelf. Of course he would not give the old man the satisfaction of even assuming he hit a nerve, because Levi would be the first to say he didn't, but he did spend a bit longer than necessary to make out the letters that spelled out the whiskey's name.

What a stupid man. It was rude to make such assumptions about a person. For all he knew, Levi could be purchasing this liquor to share. Which, really, he wasn't, but it was more the principle of the matter that upset him. He was plenty content with his life, and it was not this man's job to force Levi to be introspective long enough to wonder why he was out on the town with the sole intent of consuming his weight in alcohol.

But old people did seem to always have the upper hand. Levi resigned to trying to disprove the old man, because the fact of the matter was that yes, he was alone. He slammed the whiskey on the counter, easing on the force enough to not crack the bottle. The old man chuckled under his breath, but his lips never stopped frowning. "Same price as usual."

"Watch where you're going, you disgusting drunk—"

In Levi's defense, he wasn't even drunk. Disgusting, maybe, but drunk wasn't correct. However, he was inebriated enough to not instantly recognize Mikasa's voice. The market streets had enough room for personal space, but he still managed to elbow a girl in the ribs on accident as she stepped outside one of the shops. And it would be Levi's luck that it was Mikasa.

"What are you doing outside without escorts?" He was too disgruntled and exhausted to really put up a fight, not to mention halfway to drunk. He just hoped she wasn't going to make a run for it.

She sounded irritated, but not in the same way she usually was. "I just had an errand to run. I was heading back now."

He should have just let her on her way. "What errand?"

"That's a cobbler," She pointed to the shop door that she just exited. And, as extra verification, there was a sign in the window with fancy letters that spelled out cobbler. "I wanted to get my pointe shoes repaired."

"Your what?" Levi looked down at Mikasa's hands. Her ballet slippers. She was a ballerina before all of this, once upon a time. He remembered watching her that very first time on stage. The way her skin glowed white like snow, how her body contoured into beautifully inhumane shapes. He took a sip from the bottle. "Ah, yes."

"I'm going back to the castle now," She said slowly, then started to turn away. "You'll be alright?"

"Come drink with me," It was because she showed basic human compassion with that last question. It was because he really did want her company. It was, as he would tell himself in the morning, the alcohol talking.

He was surprised with her lack of hesitance. "Okay."

"This would be a good place to dispose the body of a girl accompanying a much older, intoxicated man, to be honest," Mikasa mused. Levi decided to focus more on not tripping over twigs than on a retort. "I assume we're not all the way out here to go tree climbing?"

The moon was the only source of light, trees reaching up to the sky to try and skewer the stars, as they walked along a very beaten dirt path. Levi had the route memorized by heart. Or more appropriately in lieu of a heart, he knew it by muscle memory. "There's an amphitheater up ahead. No sign of other people for miles."

Mikasa did have reasonable doubt. This was the very man that attempted to kill her brother, got her nearly raped, stole her from her old life, frequently put her at risk of death, and whom of which she performed fellatio. Not necessarily in that order, but Levi didn't blame her for making comments on the perfect murder atmosphere. "Sounds reassuring."

"Sounds peaceful."

"You are not a peaceful man, Levi."

At this point, he allowed himself to drink a fourth of the bottle. His vision was still straight, but his tolerance for her arbitrarily critical comments managed to stretch just a little further. They trekked in the moonlit silence for the final few yards before they reached the steps that descended into a flattened pit. Since Mikasa made no attempt to take the lead, he took a seat on a step halfway down the rows.

Mikasa noticed the unlit lamps that surrounded the amphitheater and took the initiative to light the one nearest to them. Levi wasn't sure where the source of flames came from to even light the lamp, but he wasn't much too concerned with the laws of physics at the moment. The glow was not very strong, but it made Mikasa's face bright and clear.

She sat beside him, not too far to make it clear she wasn't interested, but not close enough to make him feel warm and cozy inside. But the burn of the liquor was doing a good enough job keeping him hot and bothered, but mostly just bothered. He tilted the bottle her way, only after a handful of agonizingly quiet moments.

"I'm not at the legal drinking age, you know," Mikasa's voice was hushed, as if they were a foot away from getting caught by someone.

"You're also not at the legal age for sexual acts."

Levi maybe got the inspiration for courage from Petra. If she could talk about the harder things, so could he. But even thinking Petra's name made him take the bottle back from Mikasa before she even got her first sip. He drank three gulps, letting the searing heat soak into the cracks of his lips.

When she didn't bother to add anything constructive to his comment regarding her unsolicited blowjob, he offered the bottle all over again. She took it with both hands, tipped her head back with the bottle, and didn't even drink enough to fill her mouth. He let her nurse the whiskey in this slow, delicate way. It was almost beautiful, which only made sense because she was beautiful. The way her full lips hugged the rim of the bottleneck, how long her eyelashes were. She was guarded, but he could see that wall fall down, chip by chip, sip by sip. His fascination with her was a little scary, because he looked at her so carefully, memorizing her as if there would be a test on it tomorrow.

He started with the bridge of her nose, the way it turned down ever so slightly as it met with the curve of her upper lip. The lips paved a way for his eyes, guiding them down her chin and along her jaw. Her face was soft, curving into the next expanse of milky white skin. He traced her jaw with his eyes until he was at her ear, and then pulled his eyes down the length of her slender neck. He could taste her sweat, feel her pulse with his teeth. Levi was practically salivating. Each line of her body flowed downward until finally he was looking at her calves. There was no skin visible, as she was wearing pants, but he could see the firmness of her legs. He recalled the way her legs expanded into infinity as he watched her on that stage that first time. The way Mikasa allowed herself to be exposed to an entire crowd of onlookers, it was almost as erotic as just standing still naked before them. He wondered how she could allow herself to be so guarded, yet so vulnerable.

"Tell me about ballet."

Levi was unsure of what kind of answer he was looking for. But he was all ears when she lowered her wrist from her lips.

"It's a lot of suffering to achieve just a few minutes of beauty."

And this was when Levi let the alcohol take full blame for the rest of the night. He wasn't all that drunk, to be honest. "You're always a beauty, though."

With what unhealthily weird relationship they possessed, such a raw and intimate compliment would not normally gone without some harsher words to balance it out. Mikasa not only allowed his words to hang carefully around them, but she also relaxed her shoulders, easing closer into his company.

"It doesn't negate the suffering."

She looked into his eyes, the corners of her lips trying to do something. Levi wasn't dumb enough to think it was an attempt at a smile, but it was just as disconcerting. She handed back over the whiskey. He took another gulp of the drink, then returned it to her hands.

"What about all the skilled fighting? That sort of thing only comes with ungodly experience."

Mikasa didn't hesitate with her words. It was as if her answer was waiting to be let out for a while now. "It's a cruel world," She set the bottle between them. "I had to be saved once, and I will never let that happen ever again."

Well, that was certainly one way to leave things ambiguous. "What happened?"

A wave of sudden, misplaced energy washed over her. Levi knew this because he could feel the electricity jumping off her skin and burning on every exposed surface of his own. Mikasa stood up with some sort of purpose, only to bend over to touch her toes. It wasn't an answer to his question, but he did catch his mouth watering regardless.

His heart was palpitating as he watched her stomach pushed flat against her thighs, the way she casually wrapped her arms around her calves as if this level of flexibility took no effort. It probably was effortless, which is what Levi found so hot because he could only imagine how taut those lean muscles were under her clothes from years of conditioning. Her skin was milky with a pearly iridescence, and he knew this just by looking at her face—Levi felt the burn of liquor in his throat when he pictured this smooth skin stretching across the expanse of her bare thighs.

"I was nine at the time."

Mikasa's voice shook him from his perverse reverie. He forgot he had asked a question. The somberness of her voice sobered him up rather quickly. Soft and timid, the latter of which did not feel right coming from the most self-assured girl he'd ever met.

She was seventeen, just on the cusp of full-fledged adulthood, and seventeen minus nine was eight. Eight years ago. Levi had plenty of his own demons he was battling eight years ago. Somewhere on this earth eight years ago, while Levi was coming to terms with the worst of his own existence, there was Mikasa, an infant on the grand timeline of humanity, and she existed. There was a time she existed before working for Erwin. It was a fact Levi never seemed to keep in mind.

"My mother is an Oriental," Mikasa, still deep in her bent-over stretch, was talking into her shins. Muffled and quiet. "I'm assuming with your expertise as a criminal, you'd know that an Oriental is rare, and rare is another word for profitable."

Levi, at some point while staring at Mikasa's lean form, leaned back onto his elbows. "We have a special distaste for human trafficking."

His comment was left without any sort of reply. Nothing sharply sarcastic, not even anything blandly insulting. Then again, they were in very peculiarly reserved setting. Something about drinking hard liquor in the woods late into the night, or the way she didn't keep her posture so straight and he was oozing from the pores with some form of longing. Levi decided to keep quiet.

"Therefore, as genetics would dictate, my existence is inherently profitable."

She pointed her foot, Levi didn't notice that she had ditched her shoes to the side, and curved her foot until her ankle flattened into a perfect line that joined her shin and toes. In one swift, swift, motion, with not a single tremble or waver, not a single fucking tremble or waver, raised her entire pointed leg up to waist-level. Mikasa's eyes were focused on something in the distance, something darker and scarier than the dark and scary woods that were actually there.

"Some guys caught word of the valuable woman living in some cottage out in the middle of nowhere with her equally valuable virgin kid daughter and her combatively useless husband," Mikasa swung her leg—using muscles Levi wasn't sure existed, she transitioned her leg to stretch behind her, still unwaveringly parallel to the ground. "And I'm assuming with your expertise as a criminal, you'd know that my family was a bunch of sitting ducks."

Levi knew that tone of voice. That was a harsh attempt at placid evenness, but there was a gut-wrenching sense of familiarity as the contractions of her vocal chords pushed out each and every artificially impassive syllable. Her face was unforgiving, hardened with a sense of vengance, but what made his stomach churn was the look of peace. As if she had long given up on that ever-coveted happily ever after. Levi so painfully, so consummately, wanted to stand up and dig his thick fingers into the paper-thin skin of her throat until he'd see the wormy veins of her neck, bloody and exposed, and he wanted—needed—to take those thick curtains of black hair and pull until her brains were oozing out of her scalp. Because her absolutely amiable defeat was disgusting, because Levi knew that feeling of giving up on a happy ending, and he was watching everything he had spent the last ten years trying to fight. He was watching Mikasa—cunning, beautiful, ruthless Mikasa Ackerman—let that quiet hatred fester inside. Levi needed to watch her blood get soaked up by the earth beneath them because any physical torture he could inflict would be so much better than how she felt. He knew how she felt because he knew how her story would end. He knew the tragedy that would spew from her pretty lips, and he'd drink it up, and his heart would hurt, and her existence would hurt, and he didn't want that.

They were one in the same, and for the first time since the day he was brought into this bitterly cruel world, Levi felt Mikasa better than any other single human being. Her pain was radiating in his bones, he could feel her existential afflictions in the cracks of his skin.

"I was nine years old when I discovered how much blood is in a human body," She, at this point, lowered her leg, degrading into the night with fleeting energy. Levi sat straight up. "Twenty cups of blood. Just enough to fill five of those whiskey bottles."

God, she was so beautiful. Levi handed the whiskey bottle to her outstretched hand and watched as her lips funneled the liquor into her body. He loved to drink for that burn, that sensation of being set on fire from the inside, out. It was only a matter of time before his flesh would be eternally subjected to the flames of hell, so he figured he'd get some practice with burning alive. And right now, he wanted to tongue kiss Mikasa, he wanted to feel someone other than himself feel the burn. He had just discovered that misery loved company, and after many many years, he found his wretched companion.

She was the perfect mix of direly vulnerable and devastatingly powerful. Mikasa felt pain in every cell that kept her body together, and that was a disgustingly pure bond that went without words. The desire was palatable.

"Every little girl sees her father as that night in shining armor," Mikasa sat beside Levi once again, but at an perturbed closeness. "It's hard to see him as that when his insides are leaking from a stab wound and onto the floor."

A multitude of conflicting emotions that Levi knew all too well. He almost felt them on her behalf. He didn't want to, but he did. Brief and quick, a similar image of his mother flashed in his head. He shivered, and when she leaned her head on his bicep, he let his fingers touch the curve of her lower back. Human touch was nothing new to him, but the intimacy burned his fingertips more than the liquor burned the lining of his guts.

"Mom had a similar fate, but only on accident. The men didn't expect her put up such a fight. The dumb one panicked and I watched as he split her skull in half with his ax."

Levi knew the gore, he could understand that metallic smell, taste the electric fear in the air. Granted, his mother didn't have death as gruesome as an ax to the head. His fingers crawled over to her hip where he carefully cupped her side. It was an attempt at holding anyone. He had never humored his sexual conquests with something so intimately visceral.

"They took me because I didn't put up much of a fight, and then they molested me because I put up even less of a fight."

He pictured the hands of fat, hairy men. The way they dragged their filthy nails against the body of a little girl, not even at the beginnings of sexual maturity. Levi could feelthe dead look in her eyes, nine-years-old and hanging onto that repulsive comfort of just not living anymore. How she was still a baby and staring up at the ceiling, not giving those sick fucks the satisfaction of tears, waiting for it to be over.

"They said they would've raped me, but they didn't want to lessen my value."

And then he was seeing red.

Not many times has Levi felt truly blind rage, and it was a process of emotions that were doomed from the start. He could feel the pressure of screams right at the back of his mouth, wrestling with his tonsils and scorch his teeth. His jaw nearly risked fracture. There was a tremor that shook in his spinal cord like an earthquake, destructively unforgiving, and Levi felt the ripple of wrath flow through the veins in his body. He wanted to say something, interrupt the unfairly peaceful nighttime air, tear into the skin of the men who hurt Mikasa. Instead, he settled on gripping his knees until the muscle was bruising.

Then, through the searing fire of wrath he irrationally felt for men he was sure were long dead, there was something cool on his cheek. Soothing and soft, gentle like water, Levi registered that it was Mikasa's palm, carefully holding the left side of his jaw, her nails barely grazing the lobe of his ear. It was gratuitous and confusing, but mostly effective. As if he had really been doused with water, he was grounded back to reality, looking into the eyes of a young woman, just as lost and confused as he was. She gave him a certain look, conveying a message that he was not the first to feel this unwarranted hatred, and getting riled up was, in fact, pointless. Out of respect for the beautiful girl cupping his face—her hands were so fucking soft—he managed to get himself under tighter control.

Mikasa rested her cheek into the curve between his jaw and collarbone. It gave him a frightening sensation, somewhere at the half-point between apprehensive and tranquil.

"He found me naked and tied up, just laying on the floor like a half-dead animal ready for slaughter. I had only been around adults for many days at that point, so it was jarring to see a boy my own age. And suddenly, I was so aware of my own nudity. I was ashamed that he saw me like that. Saw me in a way no one else was allowed to see me, saw me laying and ready to be abused again."

Levi didn't have to look at her to see how she felt. At this point, Mikasa made no attempt at hiding her self-hatred. She made no apologies for the venom in her voice, and certainly held back every tear that was waiting to fall.

"When the men came back into the room, we stabbed each of them to death, and I felt absolutely nothing."

That lack of humanity in a child was frightening, but it was nothing Levi hadn't experienced. One in the same, unfortunately.

"Eren saved me, and that's why I'm a skilled killer. He saved me when I couldn't save myself, and now it's my turn to save myself."

Eren Jaeger. The brat that started this whole thing. When Erwin Smith immediately took a fascination to this sheltered child with a wealthy family and no true experience living underground, Levi knew he wouldn't like the kid. A rebellious little bitch that wanted to roll with the big boys. But he had saved Mikasa, and Levi somehow managed to find an odd sense of gratitude in that, even though this was nearly a decade prior and had no formal impact on Levi's existence.

"I'm going to do what it takes to keep Eren safe because I owe him everything I have and I owe him everything I ever will be. And that's why I'm here. If serving your precious commander keeps Eren safe, then I'm not going anywhere."

There was not a single fucking reason for Levi to ever believe that Mikasa was here on her own accord. Not a single goddamned reason to delude himself into thinking that Mikasa was here for Levi. The first time they formally met, she nearly set him on fire, and he subsequently put her into a pit with a titan. It was never amicable. The sexual favors were merely the result of topical attraction. So Levi was confused as to why he was so hurt. There were feelings about her he possessed, feelings he certainly had no hope to understand, so why was his heart sinking into his intestines?

He had managed to deceive himself into thinking that she shared this fucked-up attraction. Oral sex, as Levi would be the first to know, was superficial. Maybe it was the way she silently understood his plight about his father, and how she knew how to solve it. Maybe because he wanted her because Erwin Smith wanted her. And yet she was here with the interests of Eren Jaeger, not Levi, in mind.

Regardless, he was...hurt.

He was holding her, feeling the warmth of her body and the agony of her existence. There was a detrimental affection he felt for the girl, something that stemmed a bit deeper than unhealthy sexual tension and a pissing contest over who was the superior fighter.

"Make me feel good," Mikasa finally said. It was a plead for something Levi knew he couldn't give her. Normalcy, or romantic love, or disillusioned pleasure. He had told Petra earlier that he didn't love anybody, and he wasn't trying to go back on that answer.

She was breathing heavily, pricks of tears rolling down her face. He kissed her gently, caressed her as if she was made of porcelain. It was soft and kind and genuine, but Levi did not let love enter his mind. This was tragic, this was two fragmented humans trying so hard to hurt in order to avoid hurt. Levi was going to make her feel good. It was the least he could do for ruining her life.

Moans of pleasure were lost to the heavens as his mouth made love to Mikasa Ackerman's pussy.

hopefully some of you kiddos still care about this piece o' shit fic