Lilac Wine | Levi Ackerman

Levi Ackerman likes his drinks stirred; you like yours On The Beach

A/N: Hey! This is my first long fic and since I wrote Eren already I wanted to give my mans Levi a shot too. (Also I'm SORRY but I'm making Levi 5'5 because I just... cannot look down at him.) Hope you like it, and any kind of feedback is appreciated, whether it's comments or kudos! Thanks for reading :)

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Levi Ackerman stood behind a well-shined bar counter, effortlessly mixing a Bloody Mary.

His ring-clad hands twisted around the shaker, tossing it into the air and catching it behind his back. He wrinkled his nose. I never cared for this drink, he thought. There are infinitely better options on the menu.

Regardless, he poured the red drink into its perspiring glass, topping it with parsley and a lime wedge cut directly in the middle and balanced nicely on the rim's edge. The woman he served it to seemed delightfully pleased with both the drink's look and Levi's as well, attempting to pay him a flirty 'thank you' for a job well done. He, however, was completely uninterested and dodged her advance, opting to take another order instead. This time, a much more respectable order: A stirred, dry Martini. One of Levi's favorite drinks. Ah, yes. This is much better.

Someone sat at the end of the bar, unbeknownst to him, drinking in his movements. You got up after a few minutes of lingering staring, aching to move your limbs and dance a little to distract yourself from perturbed thoughts. It was your 21st, after all. Why not have some legal fun?

You located your best friend, Cheshire, who you had brought with you to celebrate along with a few others, chatting up a tall man, getting awfully cozy with one another. Bad sign. She was bound to leave with this stranger as she tended to do. Once Cheshire saw your wide-eyed stare, she motioned to her phone, typing out a predictable text.

Chesh: This guys hot! Kinda wanna fuck. Do u want me to stay or can I go home w him?

You sighed, knowing fully well that no matter what you told Cheshire, she would end up taking the man home anyway. So, you gave the 'a-okay' reluctantly, opting instead to hang out with your friends Rachel and Genie, whom you were only semi-acquainted with. It's too bad, really. I wish I had just invited my friend group instead. Unfortunately, you had already hung out with them on your actual 21st a few days prior, so these high school "friends" would have to do.

You swayed around, drink in hand, to the loud music at the club while making light conversation with Rachel. You were getting a bit too sober and a bit too bored, so you made your way over to the bar where you had previously been not-so-discreetly ogling the handsome bartender. You plopped down heavily in a bar chair, yearning for any sort of vodka drink to get you drunk enough to block your conflicted thoughts about yourself and your life. You signaled, half-assed, to the bartender, and sure enough, the beautiful man from before was in front of you in seconds.

"Can I just get a Sex on the Beach? I'm not nearly drunk enough this late in the night." The man grunted in return, turning to grab his shaker and ingredients. You watched as he skillfully tossed everything together, barely able to follow his quick and precise movements. You didn't even notice he put the finished drink neatly down in front of you until he loudly tapped the surface of the table.

"Oi kid. Your drink," he stated matter-of-factly, glaring only slightly in your direction. You flushed, taking in the neat drink and apologizing.

"Sorry, uh..."

"Levi."

"Levi, right. Uh. Yeah. I'm a little spacey today. Thank you." He hummed, gaze lingering on your flushed and made-up face for a moment before resuming his work. You were content with sitting at the bar, taking in your surprisingly delicious Sex on the Beach. You weren't new to drinking, of course, so you knew what you liked and how much you wanted. Following your first drink, you ordered two more, enjoying the heat and sweetness that this particular beverage gave your throat. Each time, Levi was the one to serve you, and you gave him your name at some point between the second and third cocktail, and as much of a hefty tip as you could manage. The attractive bartender mentioned that his shift was ending soon, and you started looking around for your friends. Who were literally nowhere to be found. Lovely.