Levi x Reader Oneshots 2

Tell Me (Scared Levi x Reader)

Author's Note: Please be advised, this story contains spoilers for the end of the manga.

"(F/n!)"

You bolted upright, breathless and reeling. The sound of a familiar voice screaming your name had yanked you from sleep. But...what was happening? Were you under attack? From titans? Marleyans? Were you...?

A frantic glance around your darkened bedroom revealed no enemies. There was no noise from rushing footsteps out in the hallways of the barracks, no officers barking orders or soldiers preparing for battle. Nothing to indicate you were in any sort of danger.

But next to you...in your bed, Levi was hunched over. He was pressing his face into his hands, which were halfway formed into fists. Even in the darkness, you could see his strong yet petite frame trembling, could see the sweat that glistened at his temple and dampened his hair. He was panting almost to the point of hyperventilating, but you could tell he was trying to keep it quiet. Even now, after you two had shared so much and grown so close, he still hesitated to let you see when something was wrong, to ask for your help.

Your heart ached for him – even more so after you recognized he was hissing curses between each shallow, strangled breath. "Levi?" you murmured, your voice and expression tight with concern. "My love, what's the matter?"

Levi's breath caught. He shook his head – as much as he could without removing it from his hands. And finally, your rattled brain put the pieces together, realizing he must've had a nightmare. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking – not even close. However, it was rare to see him distressed to this extent.

"Hey, hey, shh," you cooed. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm going to hug you now, alright?"

He didn't respond – likely too distraught to reply verbally. However, you proceeded anyway, knowing he'd give some sort of physical signal one way or the other. And indeed, when your gentle hands found him, pulling him close, he gave in without a fight. He wanted this – needed it.

You guided him into your lap so he was facing you, hugging him tight, trying to calm him down. He was still shaking, still panting, his rapid breaths warming the skin of your collar as he pressed his face into your throat. He cried your name there – a choked, heartbreaking sound – as if he were terrified of losing you.

"You died," he rasped, his words hasty and devastated between his gasps for breath. "You died...and I couldn't save you...could only watch...and you...you looked so scared..."

"Oh, darling. Shh, shh," you hushed him gently, stroking your fingers through the silky ends of his undercut. "I'm still here. I'm alive, and I'm with you. You didn't lose me."

Another choked sound escaped him. His fists clenched around the fabric of your nightclothes, and you felt his entire body tense inside your embrace, as if he were trying to fight against the trembling that was only getting worse. But he couldn't force himself to calm – not this time.

"Tell me," he begged. "Tell me...we'll make it. Tell me everything will be alright."

Normally, he wouldn't have wanted to hear such promises, knowing promises don't do you any good when you're faced with a titan's jaws or the business end of a gun. However, since devoting himself to you, a sliver of hope had wormed its way into his heart, and now, he was desperate. He wanted that future with you, impossible as it seemed. The fear that it'd be ripped away was destroying him, which was why he always tried to avoid hope in the first place. But now that it existed, there was no turning back. The only way for him to survive was to move forward with that hope, and pray for a happy ending.