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Literature Text
“A Way With Words”
[A Modern AU fan-fiction]
Erwin x Tsundere!Reader x Levi
Warning: Current and future contents may contain mature language, violence and/or situations (which are not of explicit nature).
Synopsis: The shattering solitude during your journey when you left for or return from your University is always the lowest point of your daily life. However, one fine afternoon, you are caught in between karma—to relish the chance of amicable change or remain in the lonely comfortable present and to chose between the professional, successful executive Erwin Smith or the freelancing, unlucky German artist Levi Ackerman as your companion.
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Sometimes, it sickens you how you have to walk for fifteen minutes straight without bumping into anyone in the streets—even in safe, broad daylight of a beautiful sunny weather. You just hate how the solitude gnaws at the ends of your thoughts, at the sighs of your heaving lungs, or at the sight of nothingness ahead of you as you keep walking. The road from your rented accommodation towards the rail station nearby is almost always lonely and heartbreaking for some reason; you too feel challenged to keep your sanity intact and refrain from letting madness caress it, even a little. Despite the merry outlook of most detached houses that you walk past, none of them could compensate the depression that follows you around like shadow. You would every so often look up, of course, sometimes hoping someone would come into view—but it is hopeless as always. Even if someone would appear, it's not as if you’d know them or they you.
Whatever. It’s not like I need them. It just feels unsafe to walk alone... Then again, I’m not on my usual schedule today—we have an event at campus that I needed to attend to at the last minute. And then again, it’s not like all these houses are empty or that we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse that I so happen don’t know of!
You shrug of the looming sadness growing in your chest and inhaled deeply as you turn one corner—nearly withholding a sob; yet, you meet with another stretch of pavements that was mutilated by the lack of human presence. You sigh.
I can’t keep thinking like that...
You reach deeper into your black winter jacket’s pocket to take out your [brand] smartphone, which was playing some music but muted by a naughty hand of yours. Your jacket has a brown faux fur around its hood, which brings the colour of your emerald green scarf around your neck; the weather makes it colder for you so you were buttoned up to the neck. You wear a pair of tights that was thick—thank God you found that on sale last week at Primark.
After selecting a playlist, you resume walking—head hung low, only the harsh, minuscule sawtooth paved cobbles of charcoal grey meets your vision and the pressing heel of your ankle-high brown leather boots (one side of the shoe has nearly loose laces). You silently indulge in the perfectly planned string of passionate, angry words and let your thoughts quiet down at the oncoming guitar solo of My Chemical Romance’s “The Ghost of You”. By the time the song ended, your wide strides have brought you at the traffic light just across your usual train station; upon checking both sides of the road and the respective corners from which cars may snuck into the main road, you leap excitedly onto the pedestrian crossing and run across.
Ha! That was a lucky one! I’d better be careful next time and wait for the light!
You smile to yourself; you hate how your parents kept on telling you not to cross the street without waiting the light and a few close calls have taught you to always listen to them. But today, you were feeling incredibly lucky.
Both your feet took its time to alternating between left and right, higher and further, as you walked up the stairs of the rail station; it was—like the cul-de-sac streets that you just journeyed though—rather barren that sunny, breezy afternoon and you let out another sigh—it was going to be a long, lonely day again.
No. I'm not homesick. I'm fine.
You bite down your lip as you take one last step up the staircase; you whip your [hair length] hair [or fringe]* as you walk up, tucking a stray strand of fringe over the back of your ears. The staircase open up to the platform immediately—the one you're currently taking is the first platform, heading North of West London. Across your side of the station was the second platform for South-bound trains; it's normally punctual and full of people, but judging by the looks of it, the train may have already arrived and left.
As you look around, you note the smiling old lady at the stands with a folded newspaper in her hands. She was quite old; full white hair curling at the sides, wearing a thick wool sweater of pink color with a darker red scarf to match and a pair of comfortable grey slacks. She’s still smiling as you approach the platform's edge—you wonder for a moment what she would think of if you’d take three more steps.
She'd have a heart attack!
As you chuckle, the current song on your playlist (a surprising contrast to the previous—“Distance” by Christina Perri) is muffled by the sound of a hard, firm and deep voice. It speaks with a different person, replying tentatively to questions and answering it in an annoyed yet urgent sentiment; you spin around, noting the presence of a familiar blonde haired, blue eyed office executive whom you always saw on your route to morning class.
But isn’t he a bit too late today?
You don’t realise that you were staring too much until finally, his gentle sky blue oculars looked back up at your [eye colour] ones. You gulp nervously, feeling the heat growing from the fluttering pit of your stomach and up to your unsuspecting cheeks. You blink for a several times as you lock gazes with him, before turning away.
“I’ll call you back,” you heard him end the conversation on his phone—but you pretend not to listen and ignore the annoying foreboding thought that he might approach you.
You don’t even know why you remain where you are, a step away from the yellow line and about two feet away from the man himself; you began to bead sweats down your brows, anxious to think of the anticipation itself that he might actually approach.
I mean, we have seen each other several times... but usually, he’s always on the otherside of the station going South-bound. One time, I saw him at my side of the station but even then, it was morning and he said hi to me... I think. I don’t think he’d just—
Before you could protest against karma’s interference on your silent hopes and dreams, you hear the distinctive clacking of a heavy pair of office shoes; your widened [eye colour] eyes trail slowly to your right, a sneaky hand slipping into your pocket as you lower the volume on your phone—your instinct somehow expecting something.
And it was right.
There he is—at least two feet taller than you—with his prim and proper blonde locks neatly combed slick on his head through a left-sided part. Not to mention, he also has a very bushy eyebrow for one—yet it somehow adds more charm to his somewhat stocky face, squarish jaw with a slightly rounded pointed chin. He is as pale as any of them, his pair of azure eyes are as always glistening mischievously yet with a hint of severity in him, and his set of clothes—God, they look so expensive! His dark velvet trench coat accentuates his broad shoulders and the beige, kilt-pattern scarf that hangs over them compliments his eyes; he wears a plain red tie underneath—but judging from what you could see, it was not a skinny tie and you admire the effort.
Besides that, he also wears another coat inside—possibly even a three-piece suit and you simply can’t imagine how good he’ll look likes if he takes off his—never mind. His dark grey pants seems to make his legs longer than it really is and his leather shoes shining ever so slightly, showing just how ready and well-prepared he was.
But you have to look away now; any longer and you’ll look like a goddamn stalker.
There is a still, cold autumn air that decorated the silence between you two—despite your proximity, that is. Your music turns into the vague mumblings of words and forgotten tunes, as you slowly look over to the other side; it's silly just how you did that—the train is supposed to arrive from his direction. Then suddenly, a humming warms the air (or rather your cold body) and you know full well it was coming from the man himself.
He's teasing me.
You pout and slowly turn your head to the right and yes, he’s still there—this time, however, he’s wearing a huge grin on his face. As a matter of fact, he was actually watching you; you conclude this from the way he has already maintained eye contact as you turn, which only mean one thing—
Hold up. This guy... does he actually recognise me from before?
You bravely look up to meet his welcoming cheery blue eyes and his smile grows wider—that just confirms your fears. You could feel your eyelids still stretched all the way up along with your [thick/thin] brows, your cheeks slowly burning up at just the thought of it and you couldn't help but look back down at the concrete slab.
HE DOES!
You think you hear a deep chuckle; you sway your head up once again and he smiles as he looks upon you, “The weather’s as beautiful as you are today!” and thus, he speaks suddenly.
You first reaction is to see if he was still holding on to his phone—because it would be bloody embarrassing had he been talking on the phone and you jumped in. But no.
Wait. So is he... flirting with me? What do I do? I never had thought I'd ever speak to him again... Um, maybe I should hit back? But how? No. No. I can't let my guard down. Throw him off, [first name].
“Are you saying that I never look as beautiful on any other day before this?” You voice, trying to sound apathetic and not to blush any harder.
He chuckles again—you like the way his eyes would flicker away from yours and return back again as if he meant every syllable that came out his rosy pink lips.
“No, of course!” he defends himself, “But I’ve said something I have been meaning to say.”
Dear God. He keeps on hitting... I better change the subject. Let’s turn the spotlight back to him, shall we?
“And you seemed to have missed your train unlike usual today,” you retort indifferently once more.
But as you look up to him with your narrowed eyes, he stares at you wide-eyed. It’s only then you realise something—
Shit. Did I just announce that I notice him every day?
Then he smiles again; there is a brief glow of a blush on his cheeks as he says, “So you do notice me enough to know that I’ve missed my morning train!”
You have no way to escape this conversation so you played the pretentious one; “It’s not harmful to notice,” you admit with a shrug and hoping it would not be received nor welcomed.
“But flattering, maybe?” He returns you with a coy look—one that is subtly flirtatious as his serious face is mixed with that ghost of a smile.
Oh, I can’t parry with that!
You decide to wave white flag and instead of answering him, you turn and walk away to your left, further to the end of the platform.
“Hey!” You hear another round of his mercilessly attractive chuckle, “Where do you think you're going?”
First conversation and he’s already stalking me... Just what did I drink this morning?
You turn your head over your shoulder, your back still facing him as you reply with, “I like to ride the first car.”
“Well then, so do I!” He laughs and follows up with you; he walks fast with his London-executive strides and next thing you know, he’s already walking up beside you. As you turn your head once, he smiles and as you look away, he chuckles once more and says, “I'll go with you, if I may.”
Alright then. Let's see how long this guy can last...
You decide not to say anything and simply nod; and before long, the quiescence of a wordless atmosphere summons both of you to a halt—but yet, he is still smiling gently with a certain kindness that could be easily mistaken as pity. You don’t like the idea of the latter, of course, and somehow, you know he is simply being sincere with you.
Should I say something?
You nod once more, ignoring how he whips his head at you and raises an eyebrow; but almost expectantly, he watches you as you speak, “So how come a punctual professional like you missed his train this morning?”
As you turn to him, he looks more than appreciative at your improvisation, as if he was hoping you’d be the first to speak so it’ll mean that you are interested. You cringe at the thought of revealing your mere interest by your intentions and words (through to your actions too).
“I had a rather...” his voice trails off as his gaze reflect towards to its mirroring kin—the sky. But you keep on listening as he finishes it, “Wild morning.”
Your eyes immediately widen—not appreciatively.
Did he just share—
“Not like that, silly!” he jumps in with a laugh as he catches your weirded-out look and that makes u blush for quickly going to your own conclusions; you turn to catch his stare as he explains, “I found the ex-girlfriend of my best friend who had been missing for the past seven years in my bed.”
You remain weirded out, instinctively taking a step back.
“My guest room’s bed,” he feigns an airy cough as he blushes.
Yes, he is blushing and you could tell by that alone that he wants to make a good impression on you; despite being older than you, the man is actually trying to be careful in his approach. He flirts with you, yes—a mere attempt to get your attention—and it works. Now he's trying to retain that charm, but for some reason, he’s intimidated by you and wants to keep up to your standard. Yet, his nervousness is failing him—this shows he really, really likes you. And you, on the other hand, have no idea how to approach that—at all.
Of course, come to think of it, he did say the ex-girlfriend of his best friend is found in his house. Now it could only mean either he’s sleeping with her behind the best friend’s back (which would explain why they’re not together in the first place) or the fact that she was missing for seven years means that the woman was not very popular—is that why the man looking so uncomfortable? He couldn’t have said all of that—not like anyone would believe him, but you did—which means he really wants you to believe him.
Distracting yourself, you could only think of—
How many rooms are there in his house?
But you can’t ask him that—not yet, at least.
“I take it that didn’t go very well?” You ask calmly.
“It involves a lot of expletives...”
You immediately cut in, despite him still talking, “Ah, of course.”
“And it ended with me kicking her out.”
You couldn’t help but widen your eyes again.
“Your best friend wouldn’t like the idea of her staying, would he now?” You say and it seems your second theory works out; the woman must’ve done some damage to be broken up (or breaking up) with the best friend and left him for all seven years.
Seven years—just what would she be up to now?
“Yes, of course!” He snorts as he sneaks his hands into his front pockets, shattering your reverie; his eyes narrowing slightly as if in deep thought as he continues, “It’s for all our benefit that I bought her a ticket to Milan to send her away and gave her my personal credit card so she won’t ever come back.”
WHAT!? HE MUST BE RICH!
Of course, your eyes remain widened; as you turn to him, his smile turns into a smirk. It seems that you’re interested in a man who’s made his money—then again, what woman wouldn’t?
No, have to figure out a kind way of saying that...
You bite your lip at first before pinching yourself through your coat—you just can’t believe you’re actually in a conversation with an attractive man who’s attracted to you and who’s apparently successful. You inhale quietly through your nose and hold your breath; with that, you say, “W-Work must be good for you too then... if you could afford all of that in a whim.”
Slowly, you turn your head over to his side and realise that he returns you another coy look of his.
But before the two of you could parry further with your ever deflective attempts to shoo him away, the train has arrived and begins to slow down as it fills up the platform’s length. You wait as all the cars have come to a full stop and then, the man beside you presses the open button on the door; he smiles before going all ladies-first on you and you literally jump into the train to avoid him from seeing you blush. But judging from his chuckle, he saw it.
The first car is sometimes always not full on an afternoon train so you take your time standing in the middle of it, looking for a seat; when you decide to take one that was close to the door, the train gives out a start, causing you to falter in your steps. You let out a soft yelp before landing your hands up against warm, lean and hard muscles—you don’t even need to look up to see who it was. His cunning smile has already got you anyway.
“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rush towards your seat behind him.
He turns and follows you to the four seats (two of each sides facing each other like in an open cubical) before sitting across you; he chuckles as you light up in a red flare and says, “It’s fine. You can lean on me all you want.”
Please. Please. Please change the subject, [first name]!
“Well, anyway, where were we? Ah, you were rich and I can’t quite put it any other way,” as you exhale, you look away from his gaze and still try to play it cool despite your flushed face, “It would explain why you remain cheery this afternoon despite being so incredibly late for work and spending so much money first thing in the morning—it must mean that you’re the boss.”
You hear his deep-throated chuckle ring your ear—God, you just love the sound of it! He turns to you and nods confidently; “As a matter of fact, I am,” he says and his gaze is hoping that you’ll believe him still, “I'm actually the Communications and Marketing Director for RECon Corp. Do you know what that is?”
Tch. Of course I do!
“Well, I am a business undergraduate,” you shrug your numbed shoulders, leaning back against the seat, and catch his disapproving look as if he doesn't believe that you are a student; you sigh before saying, “I know what that is—it’s the biggest international advertising and marketing company under the Wallist Group of companies. Its IPO* has reached its highest last week since its three year debut at £4.59 per share.”
His blue eyes widen this time; “Impressive,” he nods as he curls his lips down, “Where did you say you’re studying at again?”
“At [university’s name] somewhere in Richmond.”
“Well, we just started our summer internships with most universities this year. You can apply to us—in fact, name me as your referee. You’ll be called to work in no time!”
Him? My referee? No doubt, I'll have the job in no time —but what does he gets in all of this? A referee fee? Of what kind, I wonder...
“But then,” you wonder if you’re going to regret saying this, “You’ll see me all day everyday.”
“Maybe that’s the intention,” he flashes you a charming smile and you gulp.
Once again, you attempt to change the subject; “But then you’ll be my boss, wouldn't you?”
“Not precisely,” he chuckles, leaning forward and propping both his elbows on his kneecaps—you back yourself up, but the chair is already tightened with your presence. Another smile forms on his lips while his glowing azure ocular gaze upon yours; he says, “Why don’t you give me your email address? I know summer’s a long way from now, but I’ll keep you updated.”
Is that his excuse of getting my number?
You cock an eyebrow as you stare back into his eyes. By that alone, you show him that you were unafraid; he blinks into yours, with that smile retaining, and chuckles again. A flash of blush is now covering his cheeks as he looks out to the windows, where the train has just passed another rail station—one more stop and you're getting off to your university campus soon.
I'll give him my university's email instead of my personal one. As for my number, well, he is handso—but that’s not the point!
He suddenly runs his hand over the back of his neck and sighs; still smiling like a goofy moron, he suddenly hands you his phone, where it shows an empty contact form; you smile back—the first time since you laid eyes on him this afternoon—and nod, promptly filling up the details.
I think I'll dare myself to take the chance...
“Here it is,” you have finished it just in time, “My name is [first name][last name], by the way! ”
He let out a loud gasp and covers his face with his palm in utter shame; “Oh, bollocks! Where’s my bloody manners!?” he cries laughingly and reaches out to you, “I’m Erwin Smith.”
You reach back into his hands, which warmly welcome you in his protective size that covered yours meekly; your eyes trail back up to meet his blue eyes and they linger for while—until Mr Smith has to break the silence himself.
“Oh, and here’s my card—a proof of us meeting!” he pulls away from your hands and reaches into his pants; taking out his card from his wallet (which was a Prada), he hands the white sheet of paper to you immediately and sneaks his leather wallet back into his back pocket. He watches you silently as you examine the card.
There’s even a personal mobile number...
You feel yourself sweating through and through, confused by something.
And by the hell way, isn’t he too young to be a director?
“You’re welcome to call me anytime you like,” you meet up his gaze once more and he sheepishly adds, “If you want, of course.”
“I can’t assume we’ll be friends—most especially if I’m to attempt working with you at RECon Corp,” you shrug once more, standing up slowly to walk over to the doors as the train is pulling up at your stop. He follows you and waits by the door; pressing the door for you again, he nods in understanding and smiles.
He even picks up your fore arm tenderly as you walk out, making you turn back to see him by the door. He chuckles again.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being friends or acquaintances with your would-be boss, is there?”
Right at that moment, you could feel your stomach clutch against its inner linings and those butterflies that you once felt as you sat before him is now slowly being digested by the aching adrenaline that's just pumping in your veins. You decide to wave at him, ignoring the fact that you’re pouting with your lips and blushing badly—to him, you probably look almost like a child who didn’t want to go to school.
You watch until the train leaves the station before leaving as well.
And maybe he leaves an impression that will last a lifetime...
There’s no staircase for this station, only a pedestrian crossing that overlaps with the train tracks; since the train has already passed, you cross it safely and continue to walk through the boutique shops of cafe, an interior design office and a grocery store. You catch the stare of some students roaming around there, but you look away as soon as your eyes met. You don’t know them so you proceed with walking alone—but you’re not entirely alone.
You’re still filled to the brim with the thoughts of that one Erwin Smith.
He’s far too good looking to be at least fifteen years older than me! But God, the way he handles me... I can tell he’s got a good many experiences with women—does he flirt with me even through he’s taken? Do I think he’s taken? No, do I even deserve to be treated by a guy that knows what’s he doing? I’d rather be... someone else’s first time...
While you’re busy thinking about what had just occurred to you, you have already crossed the residential streets towards the last one before you reach your university. The houses are mostly linked-three story of the Victorian era; it adds an intricate touch of colonial setting, which always gets you to pause and admire its beauty—especially the way the brick-red colour of its exterior match perfectly with the glimmer of clean windows. You also like how the deep green leaves shed a sparkling contrast against the red, allowing your eyes to open even more to the world before you.
And sometimes, as you’d look up, you catch the stare from someone who lives at house number 18; he always peeks from the third floor—the room was dark all the time and the moment your eyes met, he’d pull the curtains and cover it. There is always that looming fear whenever you past that house, as it is frightening how he always was there to greet with you with that snarky attitude of shutting the windows blind. It’s occurred to you far too often to be a coincidence now.
Not to mention, whenever you walk past that house, you’d—
You stop walking as you feel a warm, slithering tail up your calf; you look down slowly, hearing a nimble mew, and find the usual culprit there.
“You again,” you teasingly hiss.
The cat purrs as you pick him up; it’s a black cat with amber eyes—sometimes it glows green in certain angles—and he has a distinctive green collar around his neck to match. In fact, it matches your scarf too.
“You’re so naughty,” you whisper to it as you take up its face against yours, rubbing it in. “Always delay me from going to class!”
Every time you would pass house number 18 with that freaky guy by the window, you would also bump into this black cat; as superstition would have, it was known as the companion of witches. So, of course, you’d naturally think that the house belonged to an old woman and that man you saw may have—
“Ivel!” you hear a yell that not only started you, but the cat as well.
It leaps off of you and walks towards the now opened front door at house number 18; you look up, following the cat, and standing in the doorway was a young man, but perhaps slightly older than you since he’s not going out to school or university like you are. The features on his face is covered by the shades of the overgrown oak tree in his front porch.
“I-I’m sorry,” you blush.
The young man clicks his tongue; he has a bowl of milk in his hands, which he now places on the ground, and he pets the cat gently before he walks out to you at his gate.
You widen your eyes as he comes out into the sun.
W-wow... He looks gorgeous...
He was about a foot taller—if he’d stand before Erwin, he’d be much smaller—but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in his steely gaze; his slim eyes—God, they were as blue as Erwin’s but yet—
“I’m Levi Ackerman,” he reaches out his hand.
You take a while to digest this; you examine him closely—his skin was pallid in an almost unhealthy way, but there is a tinge of reddish beige that removes your suspicion. As for his nose, his lips—well, if you don’t know it any better, it’s telling you to kiss them. But it’s perfectly balanced; his nose only slightly pointed, his chin rounded to meet his softly square jaw—his skeletal make-up is different than Erwin in that it wasn't stocky or muscled—it was lean with little flesh. He has slender body frame too, but judging from his clavicle through his plain white cardigan, you could tell he has muscles just as much.
It’s just his eyes—they’re cold like polar ices wafting in the lost sea.
“Are you deaf?” but he has such a smart mouth.
You blink suddenly. “I-I’m [first name][last name],” you voice weakly, avoiding his see-through gaze and you actually don’t shake hands with him, “I-I’m sorry I bothered y-your cat...”
“No, I should be the one apologising. I startled you there, didn’t I?”
Despite speaking English, Levi don’t seem to be British; he has a leftover accent in his voice, confused between both German and French—his s sounds a bit like z and his there sounds be like zthere. He rubs his chin first before the back of his neck as he looks down on you; you’re led to now examine his long legs, ones that were covered up in plain blue jeans and an easy-to-wear pair of sneakers. You look back up before blushing even harder.
“I-It’s okay!” you wave at the cat and the owner before going off.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going? Merde!”
You look back at him—your eyes teary for some reason; of course, you have an idea of what he just said and feel as if it was more meant for you than him. “I-I’m late.”
“No, you’re not,” he retorts with a snort—despite the rude way he speaks as he places his hands around his waist, you couldn’t help but feel that he’s interesting, “You usually don’t have class at this hour, do you?”
“H-how do you know?”
He merely points at the window on the topmost floor.
“S-So?” you grimace.
“So I know when you have your classes and when you’d stop by to see Ivel.”
“S-So?”
He takes a step forward; there was about three foot worth of distance between you two, but now he closes them up—his towering figure looks intimidating, but those eyes were somehow kind, radiating with a rare instances of warmth and peace. He lets out a sigh, fanning his mint-fresh breath against your face, as he says, “So I want you to know that you could come by anytime to play with him.”
“A-A-I-I... Uh, I’m thankful you’d allow that,” you try to smile but fail. At this point, all you could do is blush and sweat profusely through your embarrassed pores.
“You don’t have a cat at home, do you?”
You simply shake your head. “How can you tell?”
[A Modern AU fan-fiction]
Erwin x Tsundere!Reader x Levi
Warning: Current and future contents may contain mature language, violence and/or situations (which are not of explicit nature).
Synopsis: The shattering solitude during your journey when you left for or return from your University is always the lowest point of your daily life. However, one fine afternoon, you are caught in between karma—to relish the chance of amicable change or remain in the lonely comfortable present and to chose between the professional, successful executive Erwin Smith or the freelancing, unlucky German artist Levi Ackerman as your companion.
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Prologue
Part 1
- - - - - - - You, an [international] undergraduate at a fictitious University in London - - - - - - -
Sometimes, it sickens you how you have to walk for fifteen minutes straight without bumping into anyone in the streets—even in safe, broad daylight of a beautiful sunny weather. You just hate how the solitude gnaws at the ends of your thoughts, at the sighs of your heaving lungs, or at the sight of nothingness ahead of you as you keep walking. The road from your rented accommodation towards the rail station nearby is almost always lonely and heartbreaking for some reason; you too feel challenged to keep your sanity intact and refrain from letting madness caress it, even a little. Despite the merry outlook of most detached houses that you walk past, none of them could compensate the depression that follows you around like shadow. You would every so often look up, of course, sometimes hoping someone would come into view—but it is hopeless as always. Even if someone would appear, it's not as if you’d know them or they you.
Whatever. It’s not like I need them. It just feels unsafe to walk alone... Then again, I’m not on my usual schedule today—we have an event at campus that I needed to attend to at the last minute. And then again, it’s not like all these houses are empty or that we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse that I so happen don’t know of!
You shrug of the looming sadness growing in your chest and inhaled deeply as you turn one corner—nearly withholding a sob; yet, you meet with another stretch of pavements that was mutilated by the lack of human presence. You sigh.
I can’t keep thinking like that...
You reach deeper into your black winter jacket’s pocket to take out your [brand] smartphone, which was playing some music but muted by a naughty hand of yours. Your jacket has a brown faux fur around its hood, which brings the colour of your emerald green scarf around your neck; the weather makes it colder for you so you were buttoned up to the neck. You wear a pair of tights that was thick—thank God you found that on sale last week at Primark.
After selecting a playlist, you resume walking—head hung low, only the harsh, minuscule sawtooth paved cobbles of charcoal grey meets your vision and the pressing heel of your ankle-high brown leather boots (one side of the shoe has nearly loose laces). You silently indulge in the perfectly planned string of passionate, angry words and let your thoughts quiet down at the oncoming guitar solo of My Chemical Romance’s “The Ghost of You”. By the time the song ended, your wide strides have brought you at the traffic light just across your usual train station; upon checking both sides of the road and the respective corners from which cars may snuck into the main road, you leap excitedly onto the pedestrian crossing and run across.
Ha! That was a lucky one! I’d better be careful next time and wait for the light!
You smile to yourself; you hate how your parents kept on telling you not to cross the street without waiting the light and a few close calls have taught you to always listen to them. But today, you were feeling incredibly lucky.
Both your feet took its time to alternating between left and right, higher and further, as you walked up the stairs of the rail station; it was—like the cul-de-sac streets that you just journeyed though—rather barren that sunny, breezy afternoon and you let out another sigh—it was going to be a long, lonely day again.
No. I'm not homesick. I'm fine.
You bite down your lip as you take one last step up the staircase; you whip your [hair length] hair [or fringe]* as you walk up, tucking a stray strand of fringe over the back of your ears. The staircase open up to the platform immediately—the one you're currently taking is the first platform, heading North of West London. Across your side of the station was the second platform for South-bound trains; it's normally punctual and full of people, but judging by the looks of it, the train may have already arrived and left.
As you look around, you note the smiling old lady at the stands with a folded newspaper in her hands. She was quite old; full white hair curling at the sides, wearing a thick wool sweater of pink color with a darker red scarf to match and a pair of comfortable grey slacks. She’s still smiling as you approach the platform's edge—you wonder for a moment what she would think of if you’d take three more steps.
She'd have a heart attack!
As you chuckle, the current song on your playlist (a surprising contrast to the previous—“Distance” by Christina Perri) is muffled by the sound of a hard, firm and deep voice. It speaks with a different person, replying tentatively to questions and answering it in an annoyed yet urgent sentiment; you spin around, noting the presence of a familiar blonde haired, blue eyed office executive whom you always saw on your route to morning class.
But isn’t he a bit too late today?
You don’t realise that you were staring too much until finally, his gentle sky blue oculars looked back up at your [eye colour] ones. You gulp nervously, feeling the heat growing from the fluttering pit of your stomach and up to your unsuspecting cheeks. You blink for a several times as you lock gazes with him, before turning away.
“I’ll call you back,” you heard him end the conversation on his phone—but you pretend not to listen and ignore the annoying foreboding thought that he might approach you.
You don’t even know why you remain where you are, a step away from the yellow line and about two feet away from the man himself; you began to bead sweats down your brows, anxious to think of the anticipation itself that he might actually approach.
I mean, we have seen each other several times... but usually, he’s always on the otherside of the station going South-bound. One time, I saw him at my side of the station but even then, it was morning and he said hi to me... I think. I don’t think he’d just—
Before you could protest against karma’s interference on your silent hopes and dreams, you hear the distinctive clacking of a heavy pair of office shoes; your widened [eye colour] eyes trail slowly to your right, a sneaky hand slipping into your pocket as you lower the volume on your phone—your instinct somehow expecting something.
And it was right.
There he is—at least two feet taller than you—with his prim and proper blonde locks neatly combed slick on his head through a left-sided part. Not to mention, he also has a very bushy eyebrow for one—yet it somehow adds more charm to his somewhat stocky face, squarish jaw with a slightly rounded pointed chin. He is as pale as any of them, his pair of azure eyes are as always glistening mischievously yet with a hint of severity in him, and his set of clothes—God, they look so expensive! His dark velvet trench coat accentuates his broad shoulders and the beige, kilt-pattern scarf that hangs over them compliments his eyes; he wears a plain red tie underneath—but judging from what you could see, it was not a skinny tie and you admire the effort.
Besides that, he also wears another coat inside—possibly even a three-piece suit and you simply can’t imagine how good he’ll look likes if he takes off his—never mind. His dark grey pants seems to make his legs longer than it really is and his leather shoes shining ever so slightly, showing just how ready and well-prepared he was.
But you have to look away now; any longer and you’ll look like a goddamn stalker.
There is a still, cold autumn air that decorated the silence between you two—despite your proximity, that is. Your music turns into the vague mumblings of words and forgotten tunes, as you slowly look over to the other side; it's silly just how you did that—the train is supposed to arrive from his direction. Then suddenly, a humming warms the air (or rather your cold body) and you know full well it was coming from the man himself.
He's teasing me.
You pout and slowly turn your head to the right and yes, he’s still there—this time, however, he’s wearing a huge grin on his face. As a matter of fact, he was actually watching you; you conclude this from the way he has already maintained eye contact as you turn, which only mean one thing—
Hold up. This guy... does he actually recognise me from before?
You bravely look up to meet his welcoming cheery blue eyes and his smile grows wider—that just confirms your fears. You could feel your eyelids still stretched all the way up along with your [thick/thin] brows, your cheeks slowly burning up at just the thought of it and you couldn't help but look back down at the concrete slab.
HE DOES!
You think you hear a deep chuckle; you sway your head up once again and he smiles as he looks upon you, “The weather’s as beautiful as you are today!” and thus, he speaks suddenly.
You first reaction is to see if he was still holding on to his phone—because it would be bloody embarrassing had he been talking on the phone and you jumped in. But no.
Wait. So is he... flirting with me? What do I do? I never had thought I'd ever speak to him again... Um, maybe I should hit back? But how? No. No. I can't let my guard down. Throw him off, [first name].
“Are you saying that I never look as beautiful on any other day before this?” You voice, trying to sound apathetic and not to blush any harder.
He chuckles again—you like the way his eyes would flicker away from yours and return back again as if he meant every syllable that came out his rosy pink lips.
“No, of course!” he defends himself, “But I’ve said something I have been meaning to say.”
Dear God. He keeps on hitting... I better change the subject. Let’s turn the spotlight back to him, shall we?
“And you seemed to have missed your train unlike usual today,” you retort indifferently once more.
But as you look up to him with your narrowed eyes, he stares at you wide-eyed. It’s only then you realise something—
Shit. Did I just announce that I notice him every day?
Then he smiles again; there is a brief glow of a blush on his cheeks as he says, “So you do notice me enough to know that I’ve missed my morning train!”
You have no way to escape this conversation so you played the pretentious one; “It’s not harmful to notice,” you admit with a shrug and hoping it would not be received nor welcomed.
“But flattering, maybe?” He returns you with a coy look—one that is subtly flirtatious as his serious face is mixed with that ghost of a smile.
Oh, I can’t parry with that!
You decide to wave white flag and instead of answering him, you turn and walk away to your left, further to the end of the platform.
“Hey!” You hear another round of his mercilessly attractive chuckle, “Where do you think you're going?”
First conversation and he’s already stalking me... Just what did I drink this morning?
You turn your head over your shoulder, your back still facing him as you reply with, “I like to ride the first car.”
“Well then, so do I!” He laughs and follows up with you; he walks fast with his London-executive strides and next thing you know, he’s already walking up beside you. As you turn your head once, he smiles and as you look away, he chuckles once more and says, “I'll go with you, if I may.”
Alright then. Let's see how long this guy can last...
You decide not to say anything and simply nod; and before long, the quiescence of a wordless atmosphere summons both of you to a halt—but yet, he is still smiling gently with a certain kindness that could be easily mistaken as pity. You don’t like the idea of the latter, of course, and somehow, you know he is simply being sincere with you.
Should I say something?
You nod once more, ignoring how he whips his head at you and raises an eyebrow; but almost expectantly, he watches you as you speak, “So how come a punctual professional like you missed his train this morning?”
As you turn to him, he looks more than appreciative at your improvisation, as if he was hoping you’d be the first to speak so it’ll mean that you are interested. You cringe at the thought of revealing your mere interest by your intentions and words (through to your actions too).
“I had a rather...” his voice trails off as his gaze reflect towards to its mirroring kin—the sky. But you keep on listening as he finishes it, “Wild morning.”
Your eyes immediately widen—not appreciatively.
Did he just share—
“Not like that, silly!” he jumps in with a laugh as he catches your weirded-out look and that makes u blush for quickly going to your own conclusions; you turn to catch his stare as he explains, “I found the ex-girlfriend of my best friend who had been missing for the past seven years in my bed.”
You remain weirded out, instinctively taking a step back.
“My guest room’s bed,” he feigns an airy cough as he blushes.
Yes, he is blushing and you could tell by that alone that he wants to make a good impression on you; despite being older than you, the man is actually trying to be careful in his approach. He flirts with you, yes—a mere attempt to get your attention—and it works. Now he's trying to retain that charm, but for some reason, he’s intimidated by you and wants to keep up to your standard. Yet, his nervousness is failing him—this shows he really, really likes you. And you, on the other hand, have no idea how to approach that—at all.
Of course, come to think of it, he did say the ex-girlfriend of his best friend is found in his house. Now it could only mean either he’s sleeping with her behind the best friend’s back (which would explain why they’re not together in the first place) or the fact that she was missing for seven years means that the woman was not very popular—is that why the man looking so uncomfortable? He couldn’t have said all of that—not like anyone would believe him, but you did—which means he really wants you to believe him.
Distracting yourself, you could only think of—
How many rooms are there in his house?
But you can’t ask him that—not yet, at least.
“I take it that didn’t go very well?” You ask calmly.
“It involves a lot of expletives...”
You immediately cut in, despite him still talking, “Ah, of course.”
“And it ended with me kicking her out.”
You couldn’t help but widen your eyes again.
“Your best friend wouldn’t like the idea of her staying, would he now?” You say and it seems your second theory works out; the woman must’ve done some damage to be broken up (or breaking up) with the best friend and left him for all seven years.
Seven years—just what would she be up to now?
“Yes, of course!” He snorts as he sneaks his hands into his front pockets, shattering your reverie; his eyes narrowing slightly as if in deep thought as he continues, “It’s for all our benefit that I bought her a ticket to Milan to send her away and gave her my personal credit card so she won’t ever come back.”
WHAT!? HE MUST BE RICH!
Of course, your eyes remain widened; as you turn to him, his smile turns into a smirk. It seems that you’re interested in a man who’s made his money—then again, what woman wouldn’t?
No, have to figure out a kind way of saying that...
You bite your lip at first before pinching yourself through your coat—you just can’t believe you’re actually in a conversation with an attractive man who’s attracted to you and who’s apparently successful. You inhale quietly through your nose and hold your breath; with that, you say, “W-Work must be good for you too then... if you could afford all of that in a whim.”
Slowly, you turn your head over to his side and realise that he returns you another coy look of his.
But before the two of you could parry further with your ever deflective attempts to shoo him away, the train has arrived and begins to slow down as it fills up the platform’s length. You wait as all the cars have come to a full stop and then, the man beside you presses the open button on the door; he smiles before going all ladies-first on you and you literally jump into the train to avoid him from seeing you blush. But judging from his chuckle, he saw it.
The first car is sometimes always not full on an afternoon train so you take your time standing in the middle of it, looking for a seat; when you decide to take one that was close to the door, the train gives out a start, causing you to falter in your steps. You let out a soft yelp before landing your hands up against warm, lean and hard muscles—you don’t even need to look up to see who it was. His cunning smile has already got you anyway.
“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rush towards your seat behind him.
He turns and follows you to the four seats (two of each sides facing each other like in an open cubical) before sitting across you; he chuckles as you light up in a red flare and says, “It’s fine. You can lean on me all you want.”
Please. Please. Please change the subject, [first name]!
“Well, anyway, where were we? Ah, you were rich and I can’t quite put it any other way,” as you exhale, you look away from his gaze and still try to play it cool despite your flushed face, “It would explain why you remain cheery this afternoon despite being so incredibly late for work and spending so much money first thing in the morning—it must mean that you’re the boss.”
You hear his deep-throated chuckle ring your ear—God, you just love the sound of it! He turns to you and nods confidently; “As a matter of fact, I am,” he says and his gaze is hoping that you’ll believe him still, “I'm actually the Communications and Marketing Director for RECon Corp. Do you know what that is?”
Tch. Of course I do!
“Well, I am a business undergraduate,” you shrug your numbed shoulders, leaning back against the seat, and catch his disapproving look as if he doesn't believe that you are a student; you sigh before saying, “I know what that is—it’s the biggest international advertising and marketing company under the Wallist Group of companies. Its IPO* has reached its highest last week since its three year debut at £4.59 per share.”
His blue eyes widen this time; “Impressive,” he nods as he curls his lips down, “Where did you say you’re studying at again?”
“At [university’s name] somewhere in Richmond.”
“Well, we just started our summer internships with most universities this year. You can apply to us—in fact, name me as your referee. You’ll be called to work in no time!”
Him? My referee? No doubt, I'll have the job in no time —but what does he gets in all of this? A referee fee? Of what kind, I wonder...
“But then,” you wonder if you’re going to regret saying this, “You’ll see me all day everyday.”
“Maybe that’s the intention,” he flashes you a charming smile and you gulp.
Once again, you attempt to change the subject; “But then you’ll be my boss, wouldn't you?”
“Not precisely,” he chuckles, leaning forward and propping both his elbows on his kneecaps—you back yourself up, but the chair is already tightened with your presence. Another smile forms on his lips while his glowing azure ocular gaze upon yours; he says, “Why don’t you give me your email address? I know summer’s a long way from now, but I’ll keep you updated.”
Is that his excuse of getting my number?
You cock an eyebrow as you stare back into his eyes. By that alone, you show him that you were unafraid; he blinks into yours, with that smile retaining, and chuckles again. A flash of blush is now covering his cheeks as he looks out to the windows, where the train has just passed another rail station—one more stop and you're getting off to your university campus soon.
I'll give him my university's email instead of my personal one. As for my number, well, he is handso—but that’s not the point!
He suddenly runs his hand over the back of his neck and sighs; still smiling like a goofy moron, he suddenly hands you his phone, where it shows an empty contact form; you smile back—the first time since you laid eyes on him this afternoon—and nod, promptly filling up the details.
I think I'll dare myself to take the chance...
“Here it is,” you have finished it just in time, “My name is [first name][last name], by the way! ”
He let out a loud gasp and covers his face with his palm in utter shame; “Oh, bollocks! Where’s my bloody manners!?” he cries laughingly and reaches out to you, “I’m Erwin Smith.”
You reach back into his hands, which warmly welcome you in his protective size that covered yours meekly; your eyes trail back up to meet his blue eyes and they linger for while—until Mr Smith has to break the silence himself.
“Oh, and here’s my card—a proof of us meeting!” he pulls away from your hands and reaches into his pants; taking out his card from his wallet (which was a Prada), he hands the white sheet of paper to you immediately and sneaks his leather wallet back into his back pocket. He watches you silently as you examine the card.
There’s even a personal mobile number...
You feel yourself sweating through and through, confused by something.
And by the hell way, isn’t he too young to be a director?
“You’re welcome to call me anytime you like,” you meet up his gaze once more and he sheepishly adds, “If you want, of course.”
“I can’t assume we’ll be friends—most especially if I’m to attempt working with you at RECon Corp,” you shrug once more, standing up slowly to walk over to the doors as the train is pulling up at your stop. He follows you and waits by the door; pressing the door for you again, he nods in understanding and smiles.
He even picks up your fore arm tenderly as you walk out, making you turn back to see him by the door. He chuckles again.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being friends or acquaintances with your would-be boss, is there?”
Right at that moment, you could feel your stomach clutch against its inner linings and those butterflies that you once felt as you sat before him is now slowly being digested by the aching adrenaline that's just pumping in your veins. You decide to wave at him, ignoring the fact that you’re pouting with your lips and blushing badly—to him, you probably look almost like a child who didn’t want to go to school.
You watch until the train leaves the station before leaving as well.
And maybe he leaves an impression that will last a lifetime...
There’s no staircase for this station, only a pedestrian crossing that overlaps with the train tracks; since the train has already passed, you cross it safely and continue to walk through the boutique shops of cafe, an interior design office and a grocery store. You catch the stare of some students roaming around there, but you look away as soon as your eyes met. You don’t know them so you proceed with walking alone—but you’re not entirely alone.
You’re still filled to the brim with the thoughts of that one Erwin Smith.
He’s far too good looking to be at least fifteen years older than me! But God, the way he handles me... I can tell he’s got a good many experiences with women—does he flirt with me even through he’s taken? Do I think he’s taken? No, do I even deserve to be treated by a guy that knows what’s he doing? I’d rather be... someone else’s first time...
While you’re busy thinking about what had just occurred to you, you have already crossed the residential streets towards the last one before you reach your university. The houses are mostly linked-three story of the Victorian era; it adds an intricate touch of colonial setting, which always gets you to pause and admire its beauty—especially the way the brick-red colour of its exterior match perfectly with the glimmer of clean windows. You also like how the deep green leaves shed a sparkling contrast against the red, allowing your eyes to open even more to the world before you.
And sometimes, as you’d look up, you catch the stare from someone who lives at house number 18; he always peeks from the third floor—the room was dark all the time and the moment your eyes met, he’d pull the curtains and cover it. There is always that looming fear whenever you past that house, as it is frightening how he always was there to greet with you with that snarky attitude of shutting the windows blind. It’s occurred to you far too often to be a coincidence now.
Not to mention, whenever you walk past that house, you’d—
You stop walking as you feel a warm, slithering tail up your calf; you look down slowly, hearing a nimble mew, and find the usual culprit there.
“You again,” you teasingly hiss.
The cat purrs as you pick him up; it’s a black cat with amber eyes—sometimes it glows green in certain angles—and he has a distinctive green collar around his neck to match. In fact, it matches your scarf too.
“You’re so naughty,” you whisper to it as you take up its face against yours, rubbing it in. “Always delay me from going to class!”
Every time you would pass house number 18 with that freaky guy by the window, you would also bump into this black cat; as superstition would have, it was known as the companion of witches. So, of course, you’d naturally think that the house belonged to an old woman and that man you saw may have—
“Ivel!” you hear a yell that not only started you, but the cat as well.
It leaps off of you and walks towards the now opened front door at house number 18; you look up, following the cat, and standing in the doorway was a young man, but perhaps slightly older than you since he’s not going out to school or university like you are. The features on his face is covered by the shades of the overgrown oak tree in his front porch.
“I-I’m sorry,” you blush.
The young man clicks his tongue; he has a bowl of milk in his hands, which he now places on the ground, and he pets the cat gently before he walks out to you at his gate.
You widen your eyes as he comes out into the sun.
W-wow... He looks gorgeous...
He was about a foot taller—if he’d stand before Erwin, he’d be much smaller—but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in his steely gaze; his slim eyes—God, they were as blue as Erwin’s but yet—
“I’m Levi Ackerman,” he reaches out his hand.
You take a while to digest this; you examine him closely—his skin was pallid in an almost unhealthy way, but there is a tinge of reddish beige that removes your suspicion. As for his nose, his lips—well, if you don’t know it any better, it’s telling you to kiss them. But it’s perfectly balanced; his nose only slightly pointed, his chin rounded to meet his softly square jaw—his skeletal make-up is different than Erwin in that it wasn't stocky or muscled—it was lean with little flesh. He has slender body frame too, but judging from his clavicle through his plain white cardigan, you could tell he has muscles just as much.
It’s just his eyes—they’re cold like polar ices wafting in the lost sea.
“Are you deaf?” but he has such a smart mouth.
You blink suddenly. “I-I’m [first name][last name],” you voice weakly, avoiding his see-through gaze and you actually don’t shake hands with him, “I-I’m sorry I bothered y-your cat...”
“No, I should be the one apologising. I startled you there, didn’t I?”
Despite speaking English, Levi don’t seem to be British; he has a leftover accent in his voice, confused between both German and French—his s sounds a bit like z and his there sounds be like zthere. He rubs his chin first before the back of his neck as he looks down on you; you’re led to now examine his long legs, ones that were covered up in plain blue jeans and an easy-to-wear pair of sneakers. You look back up before blushing even harder.
“I-It’s okay!” you wave at the cat and the owner before going off.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going? Merde!”
You look back at him—your eyes teary for some reason; of course, you have an idea of what he just said and feel as if it was more meant for you than him. “I-I’m late.”
“No, you’re not,” he retorts with a snort—despite the rude way he speaks as he places his hands around his waist, you couldn’t help but feel that he’s interesting, “You usually don’t have class at this hour, do you?”
“H-how do you know?”
He merely points at the window on the topmost floor.
“S-So?” you grimace.
“So I know when you have your classes and when you’d stop by to see Ivel.”
“S-So?”
He takes a step forward; there was about three foot worth of distance between you two, but now he closes them up—his towering figure looks intimidating, but those eyes were somehow kind, radiating with a rare instances of warmth and peace. He lets out a sigh, fanning his mint-fresh breath against your face, as he says, “So I want you to know that you could come by anytime to play with him.”
“A-A-I-I... Uh, I’m thankful you’d allow that,” you try to smile but fail. At this point, all you could do is blush and sweat profusely through your embarrassed pores.
“You don’t have a cat at home, do you?”
You simply shake your head. “How can you tell?”
“Because you spoil him, brat,” he sighs as he scratches his neck once more. One of his hands sneaks into his jean pocket and God—
“Y-yes, I-I used to have a cat back home... Your cat—”
“Ivel, his name is Ivel,” Levi curtly cuts in.
You blush as you look away; your hands fiddling with the straps of your sling bag as you ponder your words, “R-Right... H-he reminds me of home...”
“Then, I'll say this again, [first name]: you can come by my house anytime you like, if you want to play with Ivel,” he backs away now and with that, he grabs his cat and walks back into his house—leaving you out, totally speechless.
What just happened? Twice in one day? S-Shit! I even refuse to shake his hands!? Why!?
Before you could scream bollocks the way Erwin did, you hear a ring from your phone and quickly answers it, “H-Hello? [friend’s name]? Y-yeah, I know it’s today! I’m right outside of campus! J-Just hold up!”
“Y-yes, I-I used to have a cat back home... Your cat—”
“Ivel, his name is Ivel,” Levi curtly cuts in.
You blush as you look away; your hands fiddling with the straps of your sling bag as you ponder your words, “R-Right... H-he reminds me of home...”
“Then, I'll say this again, [first name]: you can come by my house anytime you like, if you want to play with Ivel,” he backs away now and with that, he grabs his cat and walks back into his house—leaving you out, totally speechless.
What just happened? Twice in one day? S-Shit! I even refuse to shake his hands!? Why!?
Before you could scream bollocks the way Erwin did, you hear a ring from your phone and quickly answers it, “H-Hello? [friend’s name]? Y-yeah, I know it’s today! I’m right outside of campus! J-Just hold up!”
Literature
The girl Outside the Walls ( Levi x reader) pt 5
Part 5
Reader-chan POV
After that moment, when I felt his hand on mine... when he took his ‘mask’ off and I saw his tears and true emotions, he left my touch as soon as it started.
When he took my hands from his cheeks, he squeezed them a little and went back to his desk.
“Now… It’s better we finish the paperwork, I don’t want to spend all day on this.”
“Right, Sir-er-Levi.” I said while wiping my eyes.
We did the rest of the work in silence, it wasn’t an uncomfortable one…more like a warm atmosphere where I could find comfort just by his presence.
Levi could be caring if
Literature
Zombie!AU - Last Words (Levi x Reader)
Warnings: Character death, (implied?) mentions of drug use, swearing.
You had realised what happened as soon as the door had been slammed shut several hours ago. The abandoned house you and Levi had entered dwarfed everything else on the street and it only helped make you feel smaller.
If you were ever asked about it in the future, you would not mention the blood, or the tears that were shed during those hours with Levi. No; the only detail you would spare was that the scent of lavender in the upstairs bedroom was overwhelming. Strong scents like that were an unfamiliar luxury to you, considering you had spent the last six months surro
Literature
Remember Chapter 7 (LevixReader)
You panted heavily as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. Tension rose as Erwin scribbled some notes behind his clipboard. Your heart pounded in your chest; you weren’t sure if it was out of apprehension or from all the physical exertion.
Levi stood beside you, his gaze flickering back and forth from you to Erwin.
“Alright,” Erwin said as he ceased his writing. “You did well, (Name). Congratulations, you passed.”
“YES!” You cheered and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll leave you be,” Erwin said as he turned and walked away.
Levi turned to you and patted your shoulder.
̶
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Okay.
So while I was busy writing two chapters for my “Only Human” series, I had been reading up some other fics! Mainly those by
, 
and 
and I have also been drawing. So, anyway, I got uber-crazy for modern AU fanfics.
And this happened. ._.
Basically, reader is an international student (chose wherever you want to be) or not (maybe you are from the UK?) and is a very lonely person whose home is far from London. So she gets all Tsundere as she gets homesick. lolza
And then Erwin and Levi happened. ._.
It was supposed to be a one-shot for
for being my 100th watcher. hehe But then this is now officially another series for me!!! 
NEXT: fav.me/d7hjixu
PS: The whole thing about being in London is based on my experience as a business undergraduate. lolza
PPS: TRIVIA: Why did Levi sprout “merde” as you walked away?
PPPS: SECOND TRIVIA: Why is this prologue “Part 1”? What will happen next?
As did it with her “Deception” [Modern AU] series, the first five will receive a mention on the next chapter! 
PPPPS: I forgot to say, I’m sorry for making you guys old here! But as a child (and growing up), I used to like imagining what it’ll be like when I grow older - how will I study, where, what will I study, how will I work as a student, or an adult at an office, etc etc. hehe
Author’s Note:
*if you have short hair with long fringe like me, ignore the [hair length] thingy.
*IPO: it means initial public offering, it’s when a private company decides to share its shares to public.
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Shingeki No Kyojin Universe (C) Isayama Hajime
YOU (C) Basically I OWN YOU in this story. Sorry.
STORY (C) Mine
So while I was busy writing two chapters for my “Only Human” series, I had been reading up some other fics! Mainly those by
, and and I have also been drawing. So, anyway, I got uber-crazy for modern AU fanfics. And this happened. ._.
Basically, reader is an international student (chose wherever you want to be) or not (maybe you are from the UK?) and is a very lonely person whose home is far from London. So she gets all Tsundere as she gets homesick. lolza
And then Erwin and Levi happened. ._.
It was supposed to be a one-shot for
for being my 100th watcher. hehe But then this is now officially another series for me!!! NEXT: fav.me/d7hjixu
PS: The whole thing about being in London is based on my experience as a business undergraduate. lolza
PPS: TRIVIA: Why did Levi sprout “merde” as you walked away?
PPPS: SECOND TRIVIA: Why is this prologue “Part 1”? What will happen next?
As
did it with her “Deception” [Modern AU] series, the first five will receive a mention on the next chapter! PPPPS: I forgot to say, I’m sorry for making you guys old here! But as a child (and growing up), I used to like imagining what it’ll be like when I grow older - how will I study, where, what will I study, how will I work as a student, or an adult at an office, etc etc. hehe
Author’s Note:
*if you have short hair with long fringe like me, ignore the [hair length] thingy.
*IPO: it means initial public offering, it’s when a private company decides to share its shares to public.
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Shingeki No Kyojin Universe (C) Isayama Hajime
YOU (C) Basically I OWN YOU in this story. Sorry.
STORY (C) Mine
© 2014 - 2024 kaoru-reisaki
Comments91
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His cat has his name backwards XD Levi Ivel XD I will continue reading =3