Ymir's Necklace: The Secret You Hold | Levi x Reader

Paint

LEVI'S POV

As dusk began to settle, Falco found himself once again in Levi's tent, delicately pouring tea into two cups. The steam released that familiar scent Levi adored - he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the aroma while the liquid filled the ceramics.

"So... why did you agree to this again?" Falco inquired.

Levi's response was characteristically curt. "Oi, brat. I thought we were just sharing tea."

Falco glanced downward, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was adept at discerning Levi's moods, even when the former captain's stoic facade attempted to conceal them. Years of companionship had forged a deep bond between them, allowing Falco to perceive the underlying nervousness in Levi's demeanor as he settled into a chair across from him. As Falco lifted his teacup, his gaze met Levi's with a sharpness that spoke volumes.

"I think it's commendable. Your portrait deserves a place in the annals of history," Falco remarked.

Levi's response was predictably dismissive. "Which history books, exactly? The damn Jaegerists would have a bone to pick with that."

"Not those," Falco clarified. "You know what I mean. What you did that day... You gave your all. There's no shame in acknowledging your role in saving humanity."

Levi's retort was tinged with self-deprecation. "We barely saved ourselves, let alone humanity."

Falco's expression softened into a concerned frown. "I see it in your face, after all these years. You struggle to find peace."

"I'm not dead yet, brat," Levi countered, his tone gruff.

Falco chuckled, acknowledging the truth in Levi's words. Since losing his ability to walk and the independence that came with it, Levi had grappled with constant, underlying sense of worthlessness. He often wondered if his continued existence served any purpose, silently contemplating the possibility that his demise might have spared others from his burden.

Yet, as he sat in his tent that night, awaiting your arrival to paint his portrait, Levi found himself strangely intrigued by the prospect. There was an undeniable thrill in your presence, that he would admit only to himself. Every encounter with you left Levi with a lingering sense of longing, tinged with apprehension. He couldn't shake the feeling that you might slip away at any moment, a notion that both unsettled and intrigued him.

Moments later, you entered the tent - Levi's gaze lingered on your hands as they parted the fabric that covered the tent's entrance, revealing your figure. You carried a thick sheet of paper, paintbrushes, and a backpack, accompanied by Gabi, who abruptly positioned an old easel opposite Levi. As you settled in, Levi observed your attire - a plain, baggy buttoned white shirt, adorned with paint stains, a stark contrast to his own uniform. Yor legs were covered with your usual long skirt.

Gabi's departure left Levi alone with you, and he curtly extended his hand in a silent invitation to sit. You complied, placing the paper over the easel and preparing to mix paints while Levi observed your movements with keen interest.

Quiet minutes went by - the ensuing silence was palpable, broken only by the sound of gentle paint strokes and your quiet breaths. Levi remained composed, adept at deciphering your nervousness. Despite his own guarded demeanor, he sensed a vulnerability in you that gave him some sort of advantage.

"Will your art convey the truth?" Levi interjected, shattering the silence suddenly.

You hesitated, uncertain as your brow slightly furrowed. Your eyes did not leave your canvas.

"Is that what you want?"

"It's your painting, not mine," Levi replied cryptically. as he clicked his tongue. He noted he probably sounded more frustrated than he was in truth.

"But it's you I'm painting," you countered.

Levi's lips curved ever so slightly but you did not look at him. He quickly replaced it by a stern expression.

"Will you portray me as a cripple?"

Your reaction was immediate, a palpable tension filling the air. Levi watched as you averted you looked into his eyes, your expression indicating you were grappling with your response.

"No," you asserted firmly.

"Then you won't be truthful," Levi remarked dismissively. He looked away, feeling slightly disappointed. A part of him assumed you would be more truthful than polite. But he heard your voice again.

"I won't, because you're not a cripple," you retorted.

Levi's coy facade faltered, his chest tightening as he crossed his arms defensively.

"Are you attempting to be funny?"

Your focus remained fixed on his gaze as he looked back into your eyes, your tone of voic3 measured.

"I don't consider myself particularly funny. I wouldn't expect you to laugh."

Levi's irritation simmered beneath the surface, his guard rising in response to your perceived insolence. Yet, amidst the tension, a curious desire emerged - an unspoken longing for understanding that defied explanation.

As you rose from your seat and approached him, Levi found himself captivated by your presence. He observed as you retrieved a book from your backpack slowly, silently extending it to him.

Levi accepted the book, studying its contents with a furrowed brow quietly. Confusion clouded his expression as he processed the information before him, his gaze lingering on the depiction of a wooden device.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Levi questioned, his skepticism evident. You sighed, your voice tinged with weariness.

"It's an old Eldian invention. Doctors in Paradis use it to aid soldiers who have lost limbs in battle."

Levi's interest was piqued, his silver eyes alight with curiosity that he quickly tried to disguise.

"Does it work?"

"It has a fifthy porcent rate of success," you admitted.

Levi's contemplation was interrupted by a sobering realization - the procedure required amputation, a daunting prospect that stirred conflicting emotions within him.

As he grappled with the implications, a question lingered in Levi's mind - why were you so determined to help him walk again?