Your Wings - Reader X Levi Ackerman

Chapter 4: Lesson Number Two

You awaken, eyes already set on the day's lesson. Slipping quietly out of bed, you head downstairs, your fingers deftly fastening the straps of the ODM gear. The lingering fullness from yesterday's meal convinces you to skip breakfast, so without delay, you make your way outside to begin a bit of solo practice, hoping a refresher will help hone your skills.

Just as you're about to latch onto the practice wall, a voice from behind cuts through the still morning air, startling you.

"What are you doing?"

You spin around, clutching your chest in surprise as you find Levi, arms crossed, his eyes heavy with an obvious lack of sleep. He looks both tired and irritated.

"Fuck, you scared me..." you say, exhaling sharply.

Levi's expression doesn't soften. "Answer the damn question," he grunts.

"I'm just... getting some extra practice," you reply, forcing calm into your voice. "I thought you wanted me to master this thing as soon as possible?"

He narrows his eyes, casting that familiar critical glance over you. It's the look you've grown both irritated by and fascinated with, one that somehow manages to get under your skin every time. "You do realize you put the harness on wrong."

"What? I thought—"

"Here," he interrupts, stepping forward. Before you can protest, he's crouched down, adjusting the belts around your thighs and setting the mechanical parts into their correct positions. His touch is surprisingly gentle, fingers methodical as he works. "If you'd started practicing like that, you could've been thrown off balance and hurt yourself."

"Oh, that's... surprising," you murmur, trying to shake off the twinge of embarrassment.

"What?" he snaps, straightening up.

"You actually care if I get hurt?" You give him a smirk.

"Don't be stupid. It's hard enough to get a hold of that gear down here," he says coldly. "Don't do anything reckless and break it." Without waiting for your response, he walks back inside, leaving you alone to shake off the encounter.

Ignoring his remark, you return to practice. About an hour later, Furlan strolls out, fastening his own gear with practiced ease. He waves off Isabel and Levi, who are heading out to look for more jobs, before turning his attention to you.

"You ready to train some more?" Furlan asks, to which you respond with an enthusiastic nod.

For the rest of the day, he takes you through techniques to maintain balance as you maneuver with the gear, teaching you how to control your movement mid-air. The first few sessions are a mess of tangled ropes and missed hooks, and it's easy to feel discouraged. But Furlan's patient coaching—and the occasional laugh at your mistakes—helps you push through, chipping away at each new challenge.

Over the next few days, Isabel joins the training, alternating with Furlan to oversee your progress. She's boisterous and quick to point out mistakes, but her humor keeps things light. Each day brings its own frustrations, but gradually, bit by bit, you begin to see improvements. The anchors hold more securely, your latches grow steady, and you start moving with confidence.

Finally, a week in, you manage a perfect latch and pull, shooting through the air with a newfound grace. Furlan cheers from a distance, his voice carrying pride. You turn to wave at him, but your confidence quickly betrays you. The anchor comes loose, and you tumble, landing squarely onto a pile of empty boxes with a thud.

"Shit," Furlan calls, rushing over. He finds you sprawled out, winded but unhurt, and the two of you dissolve into laughter, the mishap almost a badge of progress.