Levi x Reader One Shots

Levi x Music Lover!Reader

(A/N: If you could read this one-shot in a posh, English accent, that'd be super awesome ^.^)

*Y/N*'s PoV

It had only been a matter of days since the town's last ball, but each one was as grand as the last, if not grander. Each and every member of our town came to visit each event. It took priority over all other occurrences, no matter how important. To have a town ball on one's birthday was the highest of honours. A song would be dedicated to you, and a graceful waltz would be danced for you as the guest of honour for the evening.

It really was Stohess' proudest tradition. Travelers come from across the globe to attend the balls, even royals have showed their faces and become indulged in the rich history we in Stohess have to offer. I, (Y/N) (L/N) have had the privilege of attending every single ball since the day I was old enough to, and ever since day one I've been enthralled in one event religiously; while some may deem the waltz to be the best, others prefer the food, or the atmosphere. But I've always been a loyal subject to the music.

Music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beachs' sand; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter, but it always speaks to me like no one or thing ever could. A lively tempo can lift you, elevate the spirit, or move you to dance, whilst a slow ballad can relax the mood. Before the notes fill the air every person is an island, with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm. Music is the rhythm of my soul. It flows through my veins and swirls in my head. It makes my fingers drum and my feet tap. It transcends the everyday monotony to make each fresh morning a new journey of sounds. To me, music is life and life is music. It's in everything I see. It's in the air I breathe. It's in my DNA. I've spend my every waking breath since I attended my first Stohess ball learning to play every instrument I could get my hands on. To me, it's a language that communicates with different people's souls. While some are touched by heart-felt, love ballads, others would much prefer to listen to a soulful jazz number. I've always been a slave to the classical genre. The sweet sounds the orchestra makes always sends me into a state of nirvana. Causing my body to sway and my limbs to dance. I love to waltz, I learnt to at school and I became quite a natural in my teenage years. I received my first kiss after a school waltz once, and maybe that's what helped me fall in love with it.

This evening there will be another ball, and as a personal treat, I strolled through the market in search for a new dress. It's had been at least six month since I last bought a new ball gown, so I thought there would be no time like the present and set out on my journey. I had been in twelve market tents and had failed to find a single dress to my liking. Just as I was about to give up and go home, something pulled me down an alleyway I had never been down before. Call it what you will: fate, destiny, chance, whatever, all I know is that on my spontaneous journey I came across an old man on the steps outside a dress shop. He would have been white if it were not for all the freckles. There were so many his face was brown with small pale spaces here and there, like the tips of grass struggling to show through the golden-brown leaves of fall. His hair was a perfect mop of red, it would have been lion-like had he not been so skinny. His old maroon t-shirt was a small, but on him it was like his big brother's shirt, clinging where it shouldn't and hanging loose where it shouldn't. The concrete steps were damp from the rain, but he was sat right on them like it was summer. Already the frigid water was seeping in. Surely he must feel it. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees that jutted up sharply. I took in his face for as long as I dared look, skeletal really. No-one's cheekbones should stick out so far. His face had no trace of life other than not being blue. It was like he was breathing without really being alive. In his hand was a small photograph.

"Good evening sir, is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely, hoping to give him some money, or a meal. The man looked up at me, his faded eyes meeting mine.