Tainted (Levi x Reader)

Bonus: (Y/n)'s Past

A/N
Hey guys! I felt inspired to write a few bonus parts, which I've been working on for a while now.

These are about (Y/n)'s past before where the story begins. I thought maybe you'd all enjoy it and it could add some depth to the story. There are three parts:

1.) Her initial escape from her father.

2.) The year she spent on the streets in hiding.

3.) Her time in the training corps, when she met Ilse. Also features your first encounter with Levi, and his own thoughts after you join the Scouts and go through everything right before Chapter 1.

I decided to put all three on the same part because they're somewhat short, and no one likes ads. I hope you enjoy!

~Chill <3

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ESCAPE

It was never clear to you when you met your breaking point, if you could call it that. It had to have been long after you'd received either of your brandings. It wasn't the time when you held a man down while your father bashed in his skull with a flaming log, either. It wasn't the sort of thing you could pin on one singular event. Some realization just sort of woke up in you one day. Who knows if it was while you were ripping off some poor fucker's nails, taking a shit, or laying awake as you often did at night. And honestly...who cares?

In the present day, your life as a soldier alongside the man you loved, you didn't even bother trying to remember what spurred your escape. Sometimes you'd catch glimpses of that long forgotten epiphany during those nocturnal moments that were a muddy mixture of dreams and distant memories, curled up in the protective embrace of Levi...

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They say that if you hear something enough times, you begin to believe it. After enough slaps to the face, it's only natural to fall in line.

The mistake that led to your father's ultimate downfall was one that any self-respecting psychopath, any slave-driver, should never make.

He grew lax when it came to putting you in your place. You were so efficient that he became complacent. Your father didn't put trust in you, but he put trust in his belief that the feeling of a hot iron on your skin was always fresh enough to keep you under his thumb, forever. He gave an inch, and you took that and put as many miles between you and him as you possibly could.

So there you were—a newfound sentience, a pair of daggers, and the tiniest taste of freedom beckoning to you. A feeling so powerful that you knew you'd chase it for the rest of your days, even at the cost of your life.

You made your escape in the dead of night, when your father was away tending to business in the Underground. The moon was barely a sliver when you removed the bars you'd already loosened from your window, carefully setting them aside and opening it before climbing out onto the roof.

Quiet as a mouse and graceful as a cat, you'd crept to a different side of the building and dropped down to the floor of a narrow alleyway. Your knees bent to absorb the impact, fingers landing splayed against the stone while you crouched and cast your eyes about.

The lack of moonlight made it that much easier to slip away unnoticed. A gentle wind teased at your hair and made you pull your hood down even further to obscure your face.