Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Levi Ackerman Imagine

Song for this chapter: 'Calico' by Alien Ant Farm.

Levi Ackerman x Reader (AU)

Warnings: Rated PG-13 for implied sexual-ness, foul language, and fighting. Not like 'u suck' 'no u suck', more like 'punch kick' 'kick punch'.

Note: Still taking requests up in this bitch. Has anyone noticed that I try to sound intelligent and yet I still use curses like contractions?

Levi Ackerman Imagine

"What if I told you that I could turn off the little bit of your brain that feels fear?"

"I'd ask you not to."

"That's right. That's right."

Y/n took a blind swig of room-temperature water, and she relished in the sick splash it made when she spat it onto the rubber training mat. With this, she clapped her hands together as she squared her shoulders. The memory played in her head as the sound of her bare feet smacking on the mat mixed with the snapping punches she tossed at the heavy bag. Her trainer had told her that it didn't matter how strong she was, how good she was, or how weak her opponent was--if she was never afraid, she would never win.

Fear did things to a person. Not the fear that you feel when something jumps at you in a scary movie, but the fear you feel when you're afraid of losing. That adrenaline, the frantic mindset that only allows for one thing: survival.

Head ducked, knuckles and knees aching, she spent two hours hammering away at the inanimate object as though it had wronger her somehow. In some ways, it had. It had eaten away months of her life, hour by hour, as she constantly fought with it in an attempt to build some muscle mass. She started when she was a teenager, back when the burning lungs and sore body left her with some kind of gratification. Now, years later, it was just habit. She gets off work, she goes home, she eats, she gets dressed, she goes to the gym. Aimlessly pounding a heavy-bag made up for her dead end job where shifts were long and grueling--police work keeps you on your feet.

Her workout habits were made even stranger by the fact that she didn't even need to run a mile in under thirty minutes to keep her position. She spent the day distributing parking tickets, trying to be content with the depressing monotony she faced twenty-four seven. When she was younger and she saw how corrupt the world was, she thought she'd have a chance to fix things by becoming a police officer, but no matter how hard she trained she never got anywhere.

Was it because of her gender? Her age? Her physical skill? No. It was because she didn't get on with anyone in a higher position than her. Even the detectives and the profilers and especially  the actual agents had noses so brown you'd accuse them of playing in the dirt if anyone had the stones to notice that the emperor wasn't wearing any damn clothes. She wasn't the type to cozy up to the boss, hence why she spent her life as a glorified meter maid with a gun on her hip.

All that aside, it became true that she took solace in the fact that she could spend hours hammering away at searing tasks--do one hundred pushups, do one hundred sit-ups, lift weights, go for a jog, that kind of thing--and not get bored. As her first year on the 'force' turned into four years, she didn't even realize it. Nothing was exciting anymore. She wasn't qualified to do anything else, either, so she couldn't quit. She'd turned eighteen and sprinted off to the police academy, and back then they were accepting anyone who could jog for more than five minutes at a time. She didn't have the qualifications to work at a Burger King, let alone a different job that would pay for her to make rent every month.

She began to crave fear. Something that would make her mind rush, confuse her and excite her, something that would bring the hairs on the back of her neck to attention. Maybe that's why she slept with the man who ran her gym--he gave her those feelings.