Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2001, Southwestern Border, USA

The gunfire stops.

The left side of his face is pressed into the dirt, his sandy beard blending with the soil. Blood drips from his brow. Zeke is sure his scalp is split open. Maybe he should grow his hair out like Eren's. Still, surviving a point-blank 9mm round with just a graze? He feels lucky. Luckier than the corpse lying a few feet away.

Ten minutes ago, that corpse had been a living man, reeking of tequila and sweat, pressing a Glock 17 to Zeke's head. Though Dr. Xavier had given him a death sentence five years ago, this is his closest brush with it yet.

He closes his eyes. Faces flash by: Grisha, Eren, Dina, Dr. Xavier… He almost laughs. No one would be proud of him.

Then the shot rings out. The impact knocks him down, the bullet grazing his temple, his glasses flying off. Squinting, he sees his assailant collapse, a steaming hole in his forehead. Around them, dozens of men scramble for cover, firing rifles at the unseen sniper.

Zeke rolls under a pickup truck, his heart hammering in his throat.

One by one, the Reiss gunmen fall. Another truck's gas tank is hit, the explosion echoing before silence descends. Only then does Zeke realize he is drenched in cold sweat. He stares at the brilliant blue sky and knows: today is his lucky day.

Fumbling in the dirt for his glasses, he freezes at the sound of tires crunching on sand.

A car stops nearby. Squinting, he carefully spits out the grit in his mouth.

The door opens. A black-clad figure jumps out.

Zeke squints harder. A woman? A child?

The figure wears black cargo pants tucked into boots. A dagger and a Desert Eagle are strapped to his thighs. An M4 rifle hangs casually in his right hand. A grey T-shirt and a tight tactical harness complete the look. Above it is a grim, youthful face with choppy black hair. A short young man.

Zeke almost feels like whistling, like he used to back in university.

But movement behind the man catches his eye: a body stirs, staggering up, raising a gun.
"Look out!!" Zeke yells, but it is useless. The short man's rifle is up faster, the shot hitting the "corpse" before he's even fully turned.

That thing is definitely a corpse now.

"Fuck!" the man curses in a low voice. He then begins moving among the bodies, delivering precise coup de grâce shots.

Zeke finally finds his glasses: one temple broken, lenses smeared with sand and blood. He wipes them on his shirt and awkwardly hooks the wrecked spectacles on his face.

His savior is now standing over him. Zeke looks up at that handsome, grim face and manages a smile. "Hi—"

A hard boot slams into his chest, sending him rolling. His glasses fly off again. He coughs, sharp pain making it hard to breathe. His ribs are definitely cracked.

"Get up," the voice is cold.

Zeke pushes himself up painfully, staring at the one who'd saved then kicked him. He is so much shorter. It is hard to believe this slight figure has single-handedly wiped out a squad of armed dealers.

"Zeke." Zeke offers a hand. "Zeke Yeager. Most call me Dr. Yeager. You can call me Zeke."

The man ignores the hand, tapping the ground with his rifle barrel. "Get your things. In the car."

Zeke retrieves a heavy canvas bag from the bullet-riddled truck and opens the trunk of the man's car. Inside lies the sniper rifle that had saved him.

"Thank you, beautiful," Zeke murmurs to the rifle before tossing his bag in and sliding into the passenger seat.

Before he can fasten his seatbelt, the door is yanked open. The man glares. "You. Back seat."

"Hey! I'm sitting here out of respect!"

He is dragged out by his collar. "You're dirty and you stink. Stay away from me."

Grumbling, Zeke climbs into the back. Who smells good after being shot at and crawling from a corpse pile? But he keeps quiet, because the man who'd created that pile actually… smells quite good.

The car drives silently through the barren borderlands. Bored by the passing cacti and rocks, Zeke turns his gaze to the driver. His chest still aches.

"You're with Willy Tybur, right? Good shot."
No response.

Zeke reaches for a cigarette.
"No," a cold voice cuts through.

Zeke shrugs, lights the last cigarette anyway.

The car screeches around a bend. He slams into the passenger seat. Pain explodes in his nose; warm blood fills his nostrils.

"Fuck! Are you insane?"

"I said no smoking."

"Is this how Tybur treats his future best meth supplier?"

"Your deal isn’t my concern. No smoking in my car."

Zeke opens the door and spits blood. The broken cigarette tumbles out. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The man glances back, a mocking curl of his lip. "You can get out. Wait for another ride. Or take your chances in the desert. Coyotes would probably prefer a piece of dirty, stinking carrion like you."

Is this guy a demon? Zeke groans, slams the door again, this time fastening the seatbelt properly.

Half an hour later, the discomfort is unbearable.

“Stop. I need to piss.”

“Hold it.”

Zeke sighs, fidgeting. Minutes crawl. He tries again. “I really need to go.”

“Reiss’s men could show up any second. Hold it unless you want Swiss cheese.”

“We’ve driven for hours! Seen nobody! And seriously, don’t you need to go?”

No answer.

The distinct sound of a zipper makes him freeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the man snaps.

Zeke sighs, undoing his belt. “I can’t hold it. If I can’t get out, I’ll go right here. It’s been a while… volume will be considerable. Smell? Hardly guaranteed pleasant. Hope you can deal.”

A sharp brake. The car stops.

“Get out. Be quick.”

Protected by his seatbelt, Zeke chuckles, hops out, and relieves himself. Back in the car, he barely clicks the belt before the vehicle jolts forward, brakes hard again. Pain shoots through his nose. He cries out, blood streaming.

Finally, they reach Willy Tybur.

Tybur’s eyes soften with genuine sympathy. “Dr. Yeager, looks like you’ve been through hell.”

Zeke glares at the short man. If a one-sided beating counts as hell…

He keeps his voice neutral. “It was dangerous. Without this young friend here, I’d be coyote food.”

Ignoring the murderous glare aimed at “young friend,” Zeke adds, “The Reiss family knows about our agreement.”

Willy nods. “Understood. Your safety is my priority.” He turns to the short man. “Levi, the next few days are critical. Can you continue protecting Dr. Yeager?”

So… Levi. Zeke notes silently.

Levi’s eyes are cold. “As long as he doesn’t go looking for trouble again.”

Zeke’s aching ribs and nose scream for him to argue, but Willy speaks first.

“Rest assured, Doctor. Levi is my best. With him, no one in the Americas would dare touch a hair on your head.”

Zeke forces a dry laugh. “Ha! Ha! I feel utterly safe.”

1999, Eldia, USA

It had been a rare Friday off. Driving home, Erwin remembered he was out of tea. He stopped at a familiar store and bought a packet.

The house was dark when he arrived. He parked in the garage and entered. The place was conspicuously clean for a bachelor. Erwin allowed himself a faint smile.

He walked to the dining room. A familiar figure sat at the table, head propped on one hand, idly playing with a teacup.

Levi lifted his eyelids. “This place is as dirty as a bar’s shithouse.”

Erwin smiled. “I didn’t know you went to bars.”

“Tsk.” Levi tapped the cup. “You’re out of tea.”

Erwin raised the paper bag. “Restocked. Should last you.”

Levi leaned back, satisfied, and drained his cup. Erwin sat opposite him. “So, news?”

“The Reiss family found a meth cook.”

Erwin frowned. “I thought they only dealt coke. They don’t have the expertise.”

Levi sneered. “The guy’s a chemistry doctor. Probably looked respectable once, mixing potions in some college lab. Now he’s making high-purity meth for a murderous cartel. That shit will flood every rat-hole street and money-laundering yacht… You and your great DEA pals gonna do something?”

Erwin refilled Levi’s cup. “High-purity meth?”

Levi nodded. “The best fucking meth in the world. By the way, Tybur’s also eyeing him.”

Erwin’s face grew grave. “If this gets mass-produced, overdose deaths will double. At least.”

Levi shrugged. “Tybur and Reiss won’t work together. They’re like rabid dogs. But they’re both building labs. You should get a metal detector and scan the no man's land near the border. Might find a cave full of that shit.”

“Understood.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Understood?”

Erwin tapped the table near the cup. “Your tea’s getting cold.”

Levi downed the tea and stood. “You’d better understand. I’m leaving.”

Erwin caught his arm. “Have you eaten?”

Levi looked down, a tease in his voice. “Asking me to dinner, sir?”

Erwin thought of his empty fridge. “We could order pizza.”

Levi paused, actually considering it, then shook his head. “Can’t. Kenny’s back from Uri Reiss tonight. Trouble if I’m missing.”

“Oh.” Erwin looked disappointed. “Be careful.”

A grunt. Levi headed for the door.

“Levi!”

He turned.

“That doctor… the chemist. Name?”

“Zeke Yeager,” Levi said. “If that’s even his real name.”

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

Zeke has been living in Tybur's secret Mexican estate for a week.

The doctor Tybur arranged checked him over. The scalp wound is trivial, just two stitches; it’s almost healed. But the rib fracture—yes, an actual fracture, courtesy of Levi's kick—is agony incarnate. Every bite of food, every sip of water feels like torture. The perpetrator, however, shows no remorse. Zeke can tell from Levi’s reactions every time he winces: the bastard is enjoying it. What a sadist.

Willy Tybur returned to the United States after dropping Zeke off. The Tybur Group has some legitimate front businesses, and Willy himself is a "distinguished entrepreneur," often featured in financial magazines.

Confined to the estate grounds, surrounded by Spanish-speaking staff and guards, Zeke's only potential companion is Levi. But Levi clearly doesn’t share that view; he’d rather sit alone in the courtyard drinking tea than acknowledge Zeke. Yet, he keeps his promise to Tybur: rarely leaving Zeke's sight—or more accurately, rarely letting Zeke leave his.

But today, Levi is absent when Zeke wakes. Using the few Spanish words he knows and plenty of gestures, he asks the cook: where did that fierce-looking shorty go? She chatters and gestures for a while, and Zeke finally understands: Mr. Tybur is here, and Levi is with him.

What could possibly require Willy Tybur to show up in person?

Around lunchtime, a guard finds him. “Mr. Tybur wants to see you,” he says in accented English.

Zeke follows the guard to the largest house on the estate, through several corridors, until they reach a heavy door. The guard nods and leaves.

Zeke knocks. “Mr. Tybur? It’s Zeke.”

Willy Tybur’s voice comes from inside. “Dr. Yeager, come in.”

He pushes open the door.

A spacious, luxurious living room greets him. The air conditioning hums. Hazelnut and oak scents mingle with faint notes of black tea and whisky. For a fleeting moment, Zeke feels he’s in a forest cabin in the American Northeast, not a drug lord’s fortress outside Mexico City.

Levi lounges lazily in an armchair, eyes downcast, lost in thought. Light grey T-shirt. Tactical harness strapped tightly across his chest. Zeke suspects this man sleeps fully armed.

Willy Tybur stands behind Levi, white shirt open at the collar, no tie. He pours whisky into a glass.

“Dr. Yeager, how is your recovery?” Willy greets him warmly. Levi doesn’t even lift an eyelid.

“Couldn't be better,” Zeke says, glancing at Levi. “Just the ribs… a bit sore.”

Levi finally lifts his eyes. “I can make you sorer.”

Zeke grimaces, ready to reply, but sees Willy place a large hand on Levi’s shoulder, gently squeezing. Levi emits a sharp “Tsk.”

“Alright, Levi,” Willy says, then looks at Zeke. “Someone breached one of my underground labs in Nevada. Seven men lost. The value of destroyed materials and equipment is still being assessed, but it’s huge. Dr. Yeager, do you think it was the Reiss family?”

His gaze carries scrutiny. Zeke feels uncomfortable, tense. “Mr. Tybur, I imagine you know your enemies better than I do.”

Willy nods, softening. “You had long-term dealings with the Reiss family. I wanted your perspective.”

Zeke sits on a sofa. “After Uri Reiss died, the Reiss group fell apart. That old fool Rod is useless. Kenny Ackerman is in charge now. A rabid dog. Your man—” he glances at Levi, “—cost him heavily last time. You know this is retaliation.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Kenny?” He tilts his head toward Willy. “Fine. I’ll kill him.”

Willy’s hand rests lightly on Levi’s shoulder, fingers playing with the tactical harness. “I know your history with Kenny… You don’t have to handle this. I can send Calvi…”

Zeke averts his gaze, uneasy. Does Willy manhandle everyone like this?

Levi remains impassive. “If I don’t kill him, he’ll come for me.”

Willy leans down, nose near Levi’s black hair. “Levi…”

Levi turns away, shakes off the hand, stands, and walks over to Zeke, delivering a swift kick. Then he grabs a jacket from a nearby sofa and heads for the door.

“I’ll kill him,” he says, slamming the door.

Zeke turns to Willy Tybur. He sips his unfinished whisky, smiling. “Quite the temperamental little wildcat, isn’t he?”

A wildcat capable of fracturing my ribs, Zeke thinks, rubbing his calf. “What’s his relationship with Kenny Ackerman?”

“Oh~” Willy laughs, sipping whisky. “Kenny Ackerman is Levi Ackerman’s uncle.”

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin watched the countdown on the traffic light, foot on the brake, fingers tapping the wheel. When it turned green, he released the brake—and the rear door suddenly swung open. A figure slid inside.

“Don’t look at me. Keep driving,” Levi said, closing the door.

Erwin glanced in the rearview mirror. Levi was curled up on the seat, sweat-damp hair clinging to pale skin. Erwin gripped the wheel tighter. “Are you hurt?”

A pause. “Not serious.”

Erwin pressed the accelerator harder, desperate to reach home and check.

He kept stealing glances at Levi, who remained curled, only the slight rise and fall of his chest reassuring him he was alive.

They reached the garage. Erwin closed the door, knelt beside Levi, and brushed aside the black strands covering his eyes.

Levi’s brow twitched as Erwin inspected him. “Long time no rest?” Erwin asked.

“Yes. Can’t recall last sleep. Three days? Five? Don’t remember.”

“Dangerous.”

“Sleeping is more dangerous,” Levi said, heading inside with practiced ease. “Can I use your shower?”

Erwin masked his blush behind the door. “Of course.”

He tested the water, calling, “Levi, ready.”

Footsteps approached. Levi appeared, upper body bare save for a bandaged shoulder.

“Gunshot,” he said. Then he shed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the tub.

Erwin froze. “Erwin,” Levi called. “Help me with this wound. Don’t want it wet.”

“Oh… sure!” Erwin fumbled for the first-aid kit.

He unwrapped the bloodied bandage, cleaning the wound carefully. Levi leaned back, eyes closed, twitching only when the sticky bandage came off.

“You’ve always wanted evidence linking the Tybur Group to drugs, right?” Levi nodded at the wound. “Here it is.”

Erwin cleaned the wound, speaking firmly. “I won’t use you as evidence. And this? No legal standing.”

Levi chuckled softly. “Willy Tybur himself shot me with a Walther PPK engraved with his name. But imagine: an upstanding entrepreneur defending himself against a stray dog raised on a drug cartel’s scraps. Makes sense, right? Even killing it wouldn’t soil his suit.”

“What happened?” Erwin asked, frowning.

Levi sighed. “Reiss hired German engineers to build a meth lab. Kenny had me watch. One ran off—homesick, I guess. My fault. He ended up in Tybur’s hands. I went to get him… got shot.”

“Tybur caught you?”

“No. Otherwise I wouldn’t be lying here telling this.”

“And the German?”

Levi’s eyes darkened. “Dead. Tybur got info. Kenny executed him.”

Erwin looked Levi in the eye. “Do you blame yourself?”

Levi inhaled, fragile. “He didn’t have to die. Could’ve gone home to his wife…”

Erwin closed the kit firmly. “He worked for a cartel. He knew the risks. Even alive, prison awaited.”

Levi’s grey eyes flared with anger, then dimmed. “And me? I work for a cartel too. What fate do I deserve?”

Erwin stood, putting the kit away. “You’re different. Levi, you’re a good person.”

He left without looking back.

Levi sneered, sinking beneath the water, tension dissolving around him.

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

Zeke watches Levi, carefully weighing his words to avoid another broken rib.

After leaving Willy Tybur's room, Levi has changed clothes at some point. He sits on a chair by the pool, head bowed, idly spinning a dagger in his hand. His semi-dry hair falls over his eyebrows.

Zeke watches the blade circle, his thoughts racing. He can’t help but suspect it will soon find a home in some part of his body.

But for some reason, he pushes forward, boldly speaking, “Never thought you and I weren’t so different after all.”

Levi doesn’t respond, but Zeke notices the dagger spinning faster, its cold edge glinting menacingly.

Zeke swallows, but doesn’t back down. “Shame I never met you when I was working with the Reiss family!”

He picks up a cocktail glass nearby, takes a sip, but keeps his eyes locked on Levi, ready to flee the dagger’s range at the first sign of danger. “Kenny’s a real piece of work. That’s the main reason I stopped cooperating with them. I mean, if he’s the type to turn on his own nephew, my judgment’s not that far off, is it? Of course… Willy Tybur hinting that you should kill him is a bit cruel. I can understand why you're pissed.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “I’m pissed?”

Zeke pulls up his pant leg, revealing a fist-sized bruise on his calf. “This really hurts, you know!”

Thud! The dagger buries itself deep in the armrest of Zeke’s chair, mere centimeters from his arm. The sudden motion draws a sharp yelp from deep in Zeke’s throat, and his cocktail splashes over his hand.

Levi’s face remains blank. “I don’t need to be pissed to beat you up.”

Zeke slams the glass back down, shaking his hand to get rid of the spilled liquid, his voice shaking with anger. “Have I offended you somehow?”

Levi turns toward him, seeming about to speak. Just then, Willy Tybur’s voice comes from behind them. “Levi—” Levi immediately falls silent.

Willy Tybur walks up behind Levi’s chair and greets Zeke too. “Dr. Yeager.” He bends down, one hand resting on Levi’s shoulder, the other cupping his chin as he kisses him on the cheek. In a voice loud enough for Zeke to hear, he whispers, “I have to go back. You must protect Dr. Yeager at all costs. Our people just destroyed the Reiss family’s largest warehouse. Kenny Ackerman’s probably lost his mind. This location’s compromised. He’ll come for revenge anytime now, but I trust you know how to handle it.”

Levi doesn’t look back at him. His voice is eerily calm. “I know. Now fuck off.”

Willy Tybur straightens up, adjusts his clothes, nods at Zeke, and strides away.

Zeke stares dumbfounded in the direction Willy Tybur left, then turns to Levi. “Fuck! He’s using us as bait to draw Kenny here?!”

Levi glances at him, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “What else did you think Willy Tybur was? Some kind of philanthropist? But don’t worry, he won’t let you die. Kenny will only come if you’re here. And Kenny won’t kill you. The Reiss family has nothing left now. If they want a comeback, they’ll still need your disgusting hands.”

Zeke leaps to his feet, then slumps back down. “What about you?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Aren’t you his lover...?” Zeke says reluctantly. “…It’s really obvious. I’m not stupid. The guy has a wife and kids. I always thought he was straight... He just... sold you out? Fuck!”

Levi laughs as though Zeke just told the funniest joke. He repeats the word. “Lover.” He looks back at Zeke, a hint of mockery in his eyes. “Filthy monkey, are you feeling sorry for me?”

Zeke snorts, muttering under his breath. “Starting to see I’m not so bad now, huh?”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t die before you do.”

The deep night is eerily silent, not even a dog’s bark to be heard. Zeke tosses and turns in bed, unable to sleep. Anyone wearing stiff body armor would find it hard to sleep soundly. He finally sits up and switches on the bedside lamp.

He’s in the underground safe room of the Tybur estate. Any commotion from the ground floor sounds muffled, distant. Zeke starts imagining what Levi’s doing now: he must still be wearing that same tactical gear Zeke first saw him in, lying in wait somewhere on the estate, quietly preparing for the impending crisis.

At first, it’s just a faint, crisp sound. Through the meters of earth, it sounds like someone stepping on a dry twig to Zeke.

But Zeke knows. It has begun.

He grabs the pistol from his bedside table, releases the safety, and quietly hides behind the door.

Muffled thuds echo from above, followed by various cries and shouts. Zeke tries to make out the voices: maybe it’s Señora Erika, the plump cook who makes delicious beef stew and chats away in Spanish when Zeke compliments her, beaming with pride. Or maybe it’s Nacho, the efficient young man who talks about American movies in broken English—his favorite was The Godfather Part II. Or maybe it’s Paloma, the cleaning girl, always shy and terrified of Levi...

These people—these ordinary people—are the ones truly abandoned by Willy Tybur.

Then, a massive explosion shakes the estate. Zeke’s finger trembles on the trigger, his whole body involuntarily quaking.

Then, footsteps on the stairs leading to the basement. Zeke quickly cocks the pistol, aiming it at the source of the noise.

The footsteps draw closer. Zeke knows immediately it isn’t Levi; his footsteps are different. These are heavier, more... vicious, even somewhat familiar.

“Dr. Yeager, I can hear you!” Kenny Ackerman’s voice rings out from below. “Come on out! All the little shits upstairs are dealt with, including that little bastard Levi! Dr. Yeager, you broke my heart last time! It still aches when I think about it! But I’ve decided to give you another chance. After all, those charming hands of yours can make the stuff that makes my soul tremble. I’m sure they can mend our rift...”

Cold sweat breaks out all over Zeke’s body. Levi is already... impossible.

Kenny kicks open the basement door. At the same moment, his machine gun opens fire, bullets spraying wildly at everything in sight. This guy isn’t planning on leaving anyone alive!

Zeke rolls across the floor, dodging the flying debris, seeking cover behind a metal cabinet, and returns fire at Kenny.

“Hahaha!” Kenny’s laughter fills the room, hoarse and maniacal. “You’re gonna make me cry, Yeager!”

Zeke empties his entire magazine, slumping weakly against the cabinet, his vision blurring. This might really be the end. Kenny Ackerman is clearly insane, only out for chaos now. The Reiss family’s comeback? He doesn’t care. He’s enjoying a massacre.

Zeke curses Willy Tybur’s ancestors in his mind.

Kenny slowly approaches, covered in blood, looking like a devil freshly crawled from hell. “Dr. Yeager, we meet again.”

Zeke throws his pistol aside and raises his hands. “Didn’t you want to talk? We can talk!”

“Oh?” Kenny touches his chin, considering Zeke’s offer, before raising his gun again. “Sorry. I changed my mind.”

A gunshot rings out.

Zeke stares, frozen, as Kenny collapses, his chest now sporting a steaming bullet hole. He tries to turn, but his body gives way, crumpling to the ground.

Levi’s bloodstained black hair clings to his face, his grey eyes blazing with cold fury. He looks more like a devil fresh from hell than Kenny does, drenched in blood—some of it his, some of it not.

Seeing Kenny fall, Levi’s own strength falters. He sinks to one knee, catching himself on his rifle before his knee hits the ground.

Cough... you little bastard...

Both Zeke and Levi look at Kenny, who isn’t dead yet. With difficulty, he props himself up using the wall. Blood pours from his mouth with each painful cough, staining the floor beneath him. "I took you from your whore mother, taught you how to shoot, how to kill... cough! And now you—sell me out—climb into Willy Tybur’s bed...”

Levi shudders, whether from his wounds or Kenny’s words, Zeke can’t tell.

“Kenny,” Levi’s voice is gravelly. “You should’ve expected this day when you forced me to do all those disgusting jobs for you.”

Kenny coughs, blood spraying from his mouth. “So you think you’re some good guy? Hilarious. You’re a son of a whore. A bitch that wags its tail and sticks its ass up for a bone...”

*Bang!

Kenny’s head snaps back as a bullet buries itself in his forehead. His eyes widen in shock, his words dying with his dilated pupils.

Zeke drops the gun, staring at Levi, who looks back at him silently.

“Who wants to listen to that crap?” Zeke mutters, standing up. “I’d heard enough anyway.”

Levi doesn’t react. He simply uses his rifle as a crutch, standing up and walking toward the door. “Willy’s car will be here soon. We can go.”

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin had a terrible dream.

In it, Levi stood surrounded by corpses, blood splattered across him. Guns were aimed at him from every direction. They wore black DEA SWAT uniforms. Erwin knew they were his colleagues.

Levi looked down at the bodies, then up at the guns aimed at him, grinning, terrifyingly so. Erwin heard the sound of cocking weapons. He screamed, “Don’t shoot! Don’t—”

He awoke with a start, the sound of gunshots echoing in his ears. Cold sweat soaked his body. Gasping for breath, he reached for the bedside lamp. The time read 3 a.m.

Taking a deep breath, Erwin got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. As he reached the bedroom door, the phone he’d left on the bed rang sharply. The sound made him flinch.

Erwin picked it up. An unknown number flashed on the screen. He answered. Levi’s hoarse voice came through, ragged and frantic. “Erwin, I found the man who killed Farlan.”

Erwin’s heart clenched. “Where are you?”

Levi didn’t answer the question. Instead, he spat out, “I’m going to kill him!” Erwin could hear the grinding of his teeth.

Erwin threw on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and rushed to the garage. “Levi, don’t do anything stupid! Stay where you are! I’m coming! Tell me your location!”

Levi’s voice came through, almost a roar. “No! I’m going to kill him!”

Erwin's mind raced. “Levi, you’re not that kind of person. You called me because you don’t want to kill him! Don’t do it! Please!”

Levi was silent for a moment, but finally, he relented and gave Erwin an address.

Erwin found Levi sitting on the dirty curb, his eyes glazed and tear-streaked. Not far from him, a man lay near a dumpster, bloodied and beaten but still alive.

Erwin rushed over, checked the man’s pulse, and let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t dead yet.

“Get in the car,” Erwin said, pulling Levi to his feet. Levi offered no resistance, silently following him into the car.

Erwin noticed the bruises on Levi’s fingers and the bloodstains on his clothes. “Where did you find him? How did you know it was him?”

Levi kept his head down. His voice dripped with hatred. “I saw him when Farlan died. I remembered the tattoo on his neck. When I saw him today... I knew.”

“The tattoo...” Erwin gripped the wheel tighter. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

Levi looked at him, eyes full of anger. “What good would it have done? People die every day on the streets, and killers just get away with it. Do you even care?”

“I care,” Erwin said, his tone firm. “At least I care.”

Levi sneered.

“So you were going to deal with it yourself, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Levi!” Erwin sighed. “But you called me.”

Levi's fierce expression softened slightly. “I regret it,” he muttered.

Erwin squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not that kind of person. Thanks for calling me.”

Levi didn’t respond, but he leaned his head back against the seat, silent.

Erwin drove in silence. After a while, he pulled out his phone.

Levi frowned when he heard the 9-1-1 dispatcher’s voice. “What are you doing?”

Erwin cleared his throat, sounding unusually anxious. “Hello, I was just driving on Paradis Street and saw someone lying by a dumpster… and some gang members nearby. I didn’t want to get out of the car... Can you check on that person?”

Levi almost smiled. “If you were an actor, you’d win the worst performance award.”

Erwin rolled his eyes. “It was good enough.”

The next morning, Levi woke up on Erwin's sofa. Erwin walked out of the bedroom, phone in hand. “Yeah... okay... understood... thanks... goodbye.”

Levi rolled his eyes. Work was never this boring.

Erwin turned to him, smiling slightly. “The guy you beat up... he’s in the hospital. A friend at the precinct told me he’s got felonies all over his record. When he’s discharged, he’s going straight to jail. That should keep him locked up for life.”

Levi shrugged. “Got it.” Then, he headed for the bathroom.

"Levi!" Erwin stopped him, his eyes soft. "See? There’s always another way. You don’t have to go that far."

Levi looked up, a brief impulse to bury his head in Erwin’s chest, but he held it back, giving a subtle nod.

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

Zeke ascends the stairs, his foot slipping on one step and nearly sending him tumbling. He realizes the stairs are slick with sticky blood, the walls smeared with it. Soon, he comes across a body—one of Kenny's men, judging by the gear—with a horrific knife wound across the neck, the flesh and tissue torn open. Then a second body, a third, a fourth… until Zeke loses count.

They all died the same way: throats slit from behind, trachea and arteries severed in an instant, dead before they could even scream.

That's how Levi managed to appear silently behind Kenny. That's why Levi is drenched in blood.

Watching Levi walk silently through the carnage, Zeke feels a complicated twist in his chest. Kenny brought far more men than expected. Levi had to kill all these people because he came back for him. He could’ve just left.

Zeke remembers what Levi said to Kenny in the basement and suddenly thinks: Maybe he really meant it, before all this killing started.

In the center of the courtyard, Zeke gasps, stumbling back two steps, almost landing on his rear. A kneeling corpse blocks his path. Even after all the bodies he's seen, the horror of this one shocks him. Its limbs are twisted at unnatural angles—every bone surely broken. Eyeballs bulged out, its head hanging by a thread of flesh and skin.

"Holy shit… Did you have a personal grudge against this one?"

Levi strides over the corpse without a glance.

"Keep talking, and you'll end up the same."

Zeke hurries to catch up but can't help looking back at the corpse's face. The scar seems familiar. He quickly remembers: one of the Reiss family's enforcers.

"I remember this guy! He's the bastard who shot that cop years ago and got the DEA on our backs for months! A real sicko, he absolutely deserved wha—"

Zeke's words are cut off as he's sent flying with a sharp cry. Before he can get up, Levi is there, his bloodied boot pressing into Zeke's mouth.

"Shut your disgusting mouth."

They are taken to a standalone villa less than ten miles from the estate by men sent by Willy Tybur. The car barely stops under the portico before Levi jumps out. Zeke and several heavily armed guards follow.

The villa door opens from the inside. Willy Tybur himself stands there.

Seeing Levi, he exclaims, "My God!" and strides forward, arms outstretched. "Darling, you—"

A cry of pain cuts him off as Levi’s kick sends him stumbling back into the entrance hall. Willy clutches his lower abdomen, grabbing a decorative screen to steady himself.

The sound of rifles cocking echoes as all the guards train their weapons on Levi.

Wincing, Willy waves a hand at them. "It's fine, it's fine! Everyone out."

The guards retreat. As the villa door closes, Zeke walks inside on his own—he feels he deserves an explanation from Willy Tybur, too.

Levi glares at Willy, his eyes bloodshot.

"Kenny brought a fucking army! You left me with thirteen men? He carried out a fucking massacre on that estate! You used unarmed old people and women as human shields while you hid in this fucking place ten miles away? Did you hear the gunfire? Did you hear the screams? Willy Tybur, you're a fucking coward!"

"I'm sorry! Darling, I truly didn't know Kenny had so many men…" Willy reaches out to embrace Levi, but Levi shoves him away violently.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Willy looks almost helplessly at Zeke, then back at Levi. "I sent reinforcements as soon as I found out…"

"Reinforcements? Where? Those cowards who just pointed guns but didn't dare shoot?" Levi scoffs.

Willy sighs, straightening up, his tone returning to its usual calm composure. "Go take a shower first. I've drawn a bath for you."

"Fuck you."

Levi spits the words before stomping towards the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the whole house shakes.

Willy pulls his gaze from the bathroom and turns to Zeke. "Dr. Yeager, I'm glad to see you returned safely."

Zeke clears his throat, trying to keep the anger from his voice. "Mr. Tybur, while Kenny Ackerman had a gun to my head, I seriously began reconsidering our partnership. And, by the way, I was quite fond of Señora Erika and her delicious dinners. Losing her is truly heartbreaking."

Willy nods. "I understand. I will do my utmost to regain your trust."

Willy leads Zeke to the living room. Zeke notices a metal case on the table and raises an eyebrow.

"Mr. Tybur, what's this?"

Willy opens the case. Neatly stacked bundles of U.S. dollars fill it.

"For the distress you suffered today. Consider it compensation. The Reiss family is no longer a threat to us. I believe we can proceed with our cooperation promptly."

Zeke sits on the sofa, casually picking up a bundle of bills and flipping through them.

"I'm not sure I'm in the mood to work. I was scared shitless."

Willy smiles, taking out a bottle of whisky and two glasses from a cabinet. He pours one for Zeke, then one for himself, taking a sip.

"The laboratory, built to your specifications, is complete. I've also trained a few boys—smart, quiet, hardworking. They can assist you with the tedious work. You can rest until you feel ready."

Zeke frowns, answering quickly. "No."

Willy clearly didn't expect such a direct refusal. "No?"

Zeke puts down his glass, leans back into the sofa, and looks straight at Willy. "I don't need assistants. Mr. Tybur, let's be frank. We both know the only reason I'm still alive is that I'm the only person in the world who can make what you need. If I'm no longer unique, what use am I to you?"

"Dr. Yeager, you misunderstand. They're just helpers…"

"I don't need them," Zeke emphasizes again. "Send those boys back where they came from. I work alone. Or rather—" He leans slightly toward Willy, enunciating each word clearly, "—only people I trust can work with me."

They stare at each other in silence.

Then, Levi's voice comes from the direction of the bathroom. "Willy."

Willy stands up, adjusts his clothes, and says to Zeke, "Dr. Yeager, I will consider your proposal, rest assured. Let's call it a night for now. You may rest in the guest room."

With that, he walks towards the bathroom.

Zeke sleeps until the next afternoon. When he walks out of his room and looks around, he doesn't find Levi. Instead, he sees Willy Tybur making tea in the kitchen.

He walks over and asks casually, "Where's Levi?"

Willy Tybur looks up at him, his expression somewhat odd. "He's sleeping."

Zeke nods. "He hasn't slept for days, he really should... By the way, was he injured yesterday? He was covered in so much blood, I couldn't really tell..."

"Just minor injuries. Nothing serious." Willy looks at Zeke with interest. "You seem quite concerned about him?"

Zeke shrugs. "He did save my life. Twice."

Willy pours a cup of tea and pushes it toward Zeke. "This is Levi's favorite tea, Dr. Yeager. Try it."

Zeke takes a sip, scrambling for adjectives in his mind. "Uh... it has a... uh... tea flavor. Sorry, I'm a coffee person."

Willy smiles. "I didn't understand it at first either. But he likes it, so I learned to try it. Now I can appreciate some of its notes."

Zeke doesn't respond, but inwardly he's puzzled: Why is this guy suddenly playing the deeply-in-love role in front of me?

"You know, Levi has a scar on his shoulder. A gunshot wound. I shot him." Willy says suddenly.

Zeke almost chokes, the tea threatening to come out his nose. "What?"

Willy observes Zeke's reaction closely. "Dr. Yeager, what do you think of Levi?"

Zeke pulls out a napkin to wipe his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to fuck him?"

Zeke feels his face instantly flush red, unsure if it's from the hot tea in his sinuses or something else. He emits a confused and shocked grunt from his nose. "Huh?"

Willy adds more tea to his cup. "He's sexy, don't you think? I wanted to fuck him the first time I saw him."

Zeke doesn't know what to say. Objectively, he agrees with Willy, but... what the fuck are they talking about???

Willy clearly doesn't expect an answer from Zeke; his expression says it all.

"Back then, he was still working for the Reiss family. I caught one of the Germans building the lab for them—well, for you, to be precise. He came to rescue him. Alone, he took out over a dozen of my well-trained bodyguards and got the German out. I had to shoot him."

Willy stares into Zeke's eyes. "But you know what? At that moment, I didn't really want to put a bullet in him. I just wanted him to suck my cock."

Zeke is sure his face is completely red now. He's overwhelmed by an absurd yet undeniable restlessness. He coughs forcefully a couple of times.

"Mr. Tybur, I don't know what you're trying to say... He's your lover..." Zeke's unspoken ending is: I don't know why the fuck you're talking to me about wanting to fuck your lover!

"Oh! He is!" Willy says breezily. "He's so dangerous, so captivating. I think no man or woman can resist that kind of temptation."

Zeke turns his head away, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Ah... well... Mr. Tybur, I really don't know what to say."

Willy stands up and pats Zeke on the shoulder. "Levi should be waking up. I'll go check on him."

1999, Eldia, USA 

After Hange parked the car, they watched Erwin struggling with his left hand to unbuckle the seatbelt. "You sure you don't need help? You look so pathetic right now, you really need a nanny or something."

Erwin shook his head. "Hange, we both know that being a nanny, or anything related, is the last thing you're suited for. I can take care of myself. Don't worry."

Hange rolled their eyes. "Fine, boss. Whatever you say."

Erwin got out of the car and walked towards his front door. The closer he got, the more apprehensive he felt.

His right arm was wrapped in bandages, suspended in a sling. Bruises marked his face, and a few days' worth of stubble covered his jaw. He was deeply worried that Levi might see him in this state.

His worry materialized the moment he stepped inside. Levi stood there, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him.

"You look like shit."

Erwin bent down to change his shoes, averting his gaze. "They're just minor injuries. Nothing serious. They'll heal in a few days." But his clumsy fumbling with the shoes quickly betrayed him.

"Tsk." Levi snatched the house slippers from his hand, knelt down, and slipped them onto Erwin's feet. He then put the exchanged sneakers into the shoe cabinet.

"...Thanks."

"Stop with the bullshit. Explain. What happened?"

Erwin walked towards the living room as he spoke. "I was tailing Zeke Yeager when a car forced me off the road... Reiss's men, I think."

"Ha? Couldn't your department find one or two freshly graduated, dumb-as-shit interns for that? Needed the big boss to do it himself?"

Erwin sighed. "We did. We tailed him for two months, but the guy never slipped up. The higher-ups ordered us to stand down. You know... bureaucratic crap about manpower and budgets. But I believed—I knew—something was off with him. So I took matters into my own hands."

Levi plopped down on the sofa, his face dark. "Knew it. You DEA types are all shit."

Erwin adjusted his sling with his left hand, trying to get comfortable on the couch. "Levi, we are a nation of laws. Everything requires evidence. But..." He gestured to his pathetic right arm. "Thanks to this, the department has finally agreed to reopen the investigation into Zeke Yeager."

"How wonderful," Levi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Your sacrifice into becoming a piece of shit has finally paid off."

Erwin smiled good-naturedly. "I'm really fine. You don't need to make a fuss. Getting hurt is part of the job."

Levi stood up, impatient. "Cut the self-sacrificing, holier-than-thou crap. Do you need a bath? I'll draw the water."

"Oh, that would be excellent."

Erwin settled into the bathtub, resting his injured right arm on the rim. He struggled to reach the shower gel on the shelf with his left hand.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. Levi walked in.

His face was grim as he pulled up a stool beside the tub. "I'll help you. In your state, you look more helpless than a ninety-year-old grandpa with a catheter."

Erwin wrestled internally for a few seconds but ultimately didn't refuse Levi's help.

Levi's hands were small—proportionate to his own body, but almost comically small next to Erwin's over-six-foot frame.

Erwin tried to ignore the slight thrill and agitation from the touch of those soapy hands on his skin, focusing his gaze on the pattern of the bathroom tiles—were those silk tree flowers? How had he never noticed before?

The temperature in the bathroom seemed to rise a few degrees. Neither spoke, only the sound of water filling the awkward, subtly charged silence.

"So..." Levi suddenly broke the quiet. "After you broke up with Marie, you never found another girlfriend? Doesn't your shitty life need some woman with nerves tough enough to answer late-night emergency calls to provide some... care or something?"

Erwin had no choice but to look at Levi. "I'm not in the mood for that right now."

"Oh?" Levi raised an eyebrow. "Or are you actually gay?"

Erwin hurriedly shook his head, then felt his reaction was too defensive. He cleared his throat, shifting the topic onto Levi. "What about you? It's been a long time since Farlan died... Haven't you met anyone since?"

Levi moved his hands to Erwin's knees, scrubbing with unnecessary force. "No," he answered flatly.

Erwin wasn't sure what to say. After a moment of silence, he finally organized his thoughts. "Levi, you're still very young..."

"And I'm sure to find a better boyfriend than Farlan?" Levi finished for him, his hand moving to Erwin's thigh, sending a shiver through his body.

Erwin tried hard to ignore the inexplicable stirring in his chest, tearing his gaze away from that pale, small hand."That's not what I meant."

"Erwin," Levi retorted, his fingers tracing a light, deliberate path higher on Erwin's thigh. "Do you think you're so old yourself?" His hand lightly traced its way to the inner part of Erwin's thigh. His grey eyes narrowed, a wicked smile spreading across his lips.

"It doesn't feel... old to me."

"Alright, that's enough!"Erwin grabbed Levi's wrist, pulling it out of the water with a jerk, splashing water everywhere. "I can manage the rest myself. You can go now."

Levi withdrew his hand and stood up. He licked his lips, smiling. "Yes, sir."

After finishing his bath, Erwin was inspecting the bruises on his face in the mirror when the bathroom door was pushed open again. Levi carried a chair in and placed it with a "Clang!" right in the middle of the bathroom.

"Sit. I'll shave you."

"I... I can do it myself."

"With your left hand that can't even pick up a bar of soap? Or your right hand in that sling?"

Erwin had no choice but to obediently sit on the chair.

Levi's hands were surprisingly gentle. Considering Erwin knew these same hands could snap a grown man's neck in an instant—they were remarkably gentle.

He held Erwin's chin with one hand, a razor blade in the other, gliding it softly over the stubbled skin. Erwin could clearly feel Levi's warm breath and the faint scent of citrus and black tea on him. And those grey eyes, now wide open, scrutinizing every tiny movement on Erwin's face. The delicate nose, the red lips, the black hair falling over his brows—Erwin struggled to find words to describe him. Exquisite? Tender?... Sexy?

He moved his lips, about to say something. Levi immediately frowned.

"If you don't want to be called 'Scarface' for the rest of your life, you'd better not move."

Erwin had no choice but to close his eyes. His thoughts, unbidden, drifted to a conversation from years ago, with a Levi who had just turned eighteen.

“Is there someone you like? A girlfriend, perhaps?”

Levi shook his head. “I don’t like tits. I like dick.”

Erwin frowned. “Watch your language!” Then he asked again, “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. Just fuck-buddies.”

Erwin sighed. Communicating with this kid was truly difficult. But he tried once more.

“How long have you known this… fuck-buddy of yours?”

“Since we were kids.”

“Oh?” The answer was unexpected. “Is he good to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you happy when you see him?”

“Of course.”

“Is he happy to see you?”

“Duh. Why ask?”

“I think… he’s your boyfriend.”

Levi seemed to be momentarily stunned, right where he stood. Finally, he said:

“Fuck. Farlan is my boyfriend.”

A light pat on his cheek brought Erwin back. He opened his eyes to see Levi gazing down at him.

Erwin cleared his throat. “All done?”

Levi nodded. “Finally starting to look halfway decent again.”

“Levi?”

“What?”

“I’m straight.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Erwin lowered his head, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was met with a cold laugh and the sound of the razor blade being thrown to the floor.

“Fuck you, Erwin.”

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

“Fuck… darling… you’re incredible…”

Willy Tybur fists a hand in Levi’s hair and yanks his head back from between his legs, revealing a face flushed with heat and hunger.

He pulls Levi into his lap, making him straddle his thighs. One hand cradles the back of Levi’s head as he kisses along his cheek and ear; the other slides down his waist and wraps around his erection.

“Getting hard just from sucking cock for a bit?”

Levi bites down on his shoulder, his voice muffled against skin. “I like cock.”

“Cock — plural?”

“What did you think? Yours is hardly the only one I’ve ever tasted.”

Willy chuckles, leaning in close to his ear. “Zeke Yeager seems quite taken with you too… I think he wants to fuck you.”

Levi’s hand shoots down, squeezing Willy’s crotch sharply.

“Are you seriously bringing up that filthy gorilla right now?”

“I think you’re a little interested in him too.”

“Oh, yes…” Levi hisses, a wicked smile curling his lips. “I love watching him in pain. I want to kill him.”

Willy’s hand slips down the curve of Levi’s ass and into his pants, drawing out a hoarse moan.

“He enjoys it, you know. He enjoys you beating him.”

Levi bites his shoulder again, words breaking apart on his tongue. “Fuck you… what the hell… are you even trying to say?”

Willy lifts Levi’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Do you want him to fuck you?”

Levi twists in his arms, another moan slipping out.

“…You’re such a pervert…”

Then Willy tilts his chin up and kisses him — deep, consuming, almost desperate.

When the kiss breaks, he wipes a silver thread from the corner of Levi’s mouth with his thumb and murmurs with a hint of resignation, “Every time I kiss you, I feel nothing from you.”

Levi lets out a low, humorless laugh. “So you had me kill hundreds of people… all because you didn’t feel some deep, romantic spark when you kiss me? Mr. Tybur… you’re truly a disgusting pervert…”

The last word dissolves into a drawn-out groan as Willy’s hand moves again.

Zeke is already three cigarettes deep on the balcony. The noises coming from the master bedroom aren’t exactly loud, but that doesn’t stop his mind from conjuring up vivid images and every obscene sound.

It’s too much.

Only after the restless heat in his body — and the bulge in his pants — finally subsides does Zeke stub out the cigarette and head back inside for a glass of ice water.

As he steps into the dining area, he sees Levi there too, also holding a glass of ice water. Zeke tries his best not to look at him and walks straight toward the refrigerator.

“Hey, Ape.”

“What?”

The response slips out before he can stop himself — and he immediately regrets it. He doesn’t think he looks like an ape, a monkey, or any other animal. In fact, he thinks he’s rather handsome. But somehow, he always lets Levi’s ridiculous nicknames slide.

“You smell like shit.”

Here we go again. For some reason, Zeke suddenly finds the nerve to fire back.

“And you smell like flavored condoms and cum.”

Levi’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting Zeke to have found that kind of courage. For a second, he’s too shocked to reply.

But apparently, he doesn’t need to.

A sharp cry of pain tears from Zeke’s throat as he collapses to the floor, clutching his groin.

Willy Tybur’s laughter echoes from the other room.

1999, Eldia, USA

"Erwin, be honest. How long’s it been since you’ve been on a date?"

Hange slid a freshly oiled gun into its holster and turned to him, brown eyes narrowing behind their glasses.

"Hange, we’re about to raid an underground meth lab guarded by armed men — and that’s what you want to talk about?"

"Come on! It’s not our first time. I’m just trying to get you to relax." Hange gestured animatedly.

"Not helping. Thanks." Erwin shook his head. "You know how badly I want to catch Zeke Yeager."

"I know!" Hange clapped him on the shoulder, a sly grin spreading across their face. "What about Emily from Records? I saw her batting her lashes at you last time. Why not ask her out this weekend?"

"Hange!"

"Okay, okay!" Hange raised both hands in mock surrender, though the teasing glint in their eyes didn’t fade. "I bet your heart already belongs to someone else… Who is it? Do I know them?"

"NO!"

"I don’t know them?"

"I mean there’s no one!"

Hange rolled their eyes. "Sure. Tell that to the birds."

The operation started smoothly. Erwin, Hange, and their team quickly found the entrance to the underground lab — hidden behind the kitchen of a small fast-food restaurant.

But when they forced open the heavy metal door, they froze. Beneath the tiny restaurant, which could barely seat a few dozen customers, sprawled a full-sized, fully equipped laboratory — the size of a basketball court.

Then a gunshot rang out.

Erwin dove behind a support column just in time to see a man in a lab coat sprinting through the maze of equipment.

Another exit?

"Hange! Take your team outside! Find every exit!"

"Sir!"

Erwin vaulted over the railing and down the stairs, chasing after Zeke Yeager.

Gunfire exploded in the basement as Zeke’s men opened fire on the DEA agents. Amid the chaos, Erwin caught a flash of something metallic glinting in a corner.

"Shit!" he shouted. "Everyone, get down!"

Hange had just finished reporting over the radio when a deafening explosion ripped through the basement.

"Oh no… Erwin…"

Coughing, Erwin shoved a sheet of twisted metal off himself and staggered upright. He radioed in that he was alive and pressed on through the thick smoke, following the tunnel Zeke had escaped through.

He was just about to enter when a dark shape darted across his vision — and a moment later, he was slammed to the ground.

"Your shift’s over for today."

Levi’s face was smeared with black tactical paint, but Erwin could still see the mocking glint in those narrowed gray eyes. The man’s lips curled into a slow drawl:

"Officer Straight."

He dragged out the last word deliberately. Erwin sighed inwardly and lowered his gun.

"What’s going on?"

Levi peeked out, saw the DEA agents closing in, and melted back into the shadows.

"This tunnel runs for miles. Dozens of exits scattered everywhere. And every single one’s got a dozen guns pointed at it. You walk into that — it’s whack-a-mole. Got it?"

Erwin frowned. "Someone tipped off the Reiss family."

"Tsk." Levi smirked. "I don’t know how many people knew your op plan, but at least one of them sold you out."

"Damn it."

"Ha! Feels good, huh? Being betrayed by someone you trusted?"

Erwin ignored the jab and stepped closer into Levi’s hiding spot, locking eyes with him.

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Levi’s voice was calm. "Right now, I’m supposed to be guarding a warehouse for Kenny."

"If he finds out you’re not there, he’ll get suspicious. You’ll be in danger."

"Do you care?"

Erwin gripped his shoulders. "What do you think?"

Levi turned his face away, dodging Erwin’s gaze. "I don’t know…"

"Come with me," Erwin said softly. "I can get you into witness protection—"

"Sir, do you hear how insane that sounds? There’s a mole in your DEA. You really think I’d live long enough to testify against my own uncle?"

Erwin’s mouth twitched. He didn’t have an answer.

Levi slipped out of his grasp. "Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You take your reliable men and pull back. I’ll vanish in the chaos. Kenny’s got a mess to deal with — he won’t notice I’m gone for a while."

Erwin stared at him, heart twisting painfully in his chest. He suddenly felt like he had everything to say — and nothing at all. Finally, he just nodded.

"Alright. Be careful."

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

Zeke weaves through a sea of champagne flutes and evening gowns, snagging a glass of red wine from a passing waiter. A jazz band plays softly on stage. Tonight’s party is hosted by Willy Tybur at his villa, and judging by the crowd, every member of Mexico City’s elite is here. Willy himself — sharp in a three-piece suit, long blond hair tied neatly back — is chatting with a portly  man across the room.

Zeke finally spots Levi on a second-floor balcony, alone on a long sofa, silently watching the party below. He drops down beside him. Levi shoots him a disgusted look and shifts away.

Zeke grins and talks anyway.

"I just heard Tybur say the fat guy next to him is the Minister of Defense. Is that some kind of cartel code name? Or is he the actual Minister?"

Levi doesn’t respond.

Zeke takes an awkward sip of wine. He knows the man is the real Minister — he’s just trying to make conversation. Clearly, that attempt fails. His eyes drift back to Tybur.

Now Willy has his arm around a blonde in an evening gown, introducing her to the Minister. A young woman in black, silent and watchful, lingers behind him.

Zeke glances back at Levi. His expression is unreadable.

"This must be hard for you."

Levi arches an eyebrow.

"Watching him stand there with his wife while you sit here alone. Honestly, it’d piss me off too."

Levi’s eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitching — the first warning sign. Still, Zeke presses on.

"I don’t get why you love him. Sure, he’s handsome, rich… but you don’t seem like the type who cares about that."

"Oh?" Levi gives a faint, mocking smile. "I don’t care?"

Zeke nods. "You don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. Your favorite drink is tea — expensive tea, but still tea. You wear the same clothes every day; I bet you own a thousand identical sets. You don’t have any material needs. You’re not with Willy Tybur for money or fame. With your skills, you could do anything. So I believe you must love him deeply."

Levi frowns. Zeke braces for a punch, but instead Levi seems to actually consider it.

"I like blond men," he says.

Oh. So you really do love him.

Zeke sighs. "But you know he’s a bastard, right?"

"What’s it to you?"

"Levi." Zeke sets his glass down, his tone softening. "I’m just worried about you."

"Why?"

"You saved my life. Twice." He meets Levi’s gaze. "I’m not an ungrateful bastard — unlike a certain someone."

"He saved you." Levi jerks his chin toward Willy. "And I’d rather kill you. Don’t flatter yourself, filthy ape."

"Pah." Zeke leans back. "That guy’s just using me. Like he’s using you."

"Then why are you still working with him?"

"What choice do I have? The DEA wants me dead. If I don’t work with him, I’m finished."

Levi studies him. "But I heard you’ve been difficult. Refusing the assistants he’s sent you."

Zeke sighs and takes another sip. "I’m not stupid. Once his people learn to make the product, I’m worthless."

"Oh." Levi nods and falls silent.

The quiet stretches. Finally, Zeke speaks again.

"Levi, I don’t think you want to kill for him. You’re not a bloodthirsty person."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. You’re doing this because you love him. But you don’t have to. He’s not worth it."

Levi stands, cold and steady.

"Doctor Monkey, I don’t remember asking you to be my therapist."

A dangerous smile curls his lips.

"Besides — I enjoy killing."

Zeke watches him descend the stairs and head toward Willy. He sighs and rubs his temples.

Then a ripple of commotion spreads through the party. A massive golden cage is wheeled into the hall — with a living tiger inside.

—

Willy waves Levi over. As he approaches, Willy pats his shoulder and announces to the crowd,

"This is Levi. I daresay he’s humanity’s strongest fighter."

Cheers, laughter, and whispers ripple through the room. Dozens of eyes — curious, scornful, intrigued — fix on Levi.

From across the room, Zeke watches his profile. Levi’s eyes, half-hidden beneath dark lashes, betray nothing.

The Minister of Defense laughs.

"I know the tiger is the king of the jungle. I wonder how our ‘strongest fighter’ will fare against him?"

A chorus of agreement follows. Zeke’s fists tighten. Levi’s expression doesn’t change.

Willy leans down, his voice loud enough for all to hear.

"Levi, would you entertain our guest? Show the Minister what humanity’s strongest can do."

A woman screams. The crowd roars.

Zeke shoves through the sea of bodies toward Willy and hisses, "Are you insane?"

Willy drapes an arm over his shoulders, laughing.

"Dr. Yeager, we’re in South America now. We play by jungle rules here."

Before Zeke can reply, Levi’s voice cuts through the noise.

"Fine."

Willy laughs and signals the trainer.

The trainer guides the tiger to one side of the cage, lowers a central grate, then opens the opposite door.

Levi steps up to the cage, head slightly bowed, black hair veiling his eyes.

Zeke can’t stand it. He turns away, muttering, "Fuck."

It’s not fear for Levi’s safety — it’s the sheer humiliation of seeing him reduced to a spectacle for these hypocritical “elites.” This is the twenty-first century, not ancient Rome.

The jazz band falls silent. Only the drummer’s beat quickens.

The tiger paces, muscles coiled. Levi stands opposite, sinking into a defensive stance.

Just as the grate is about to rise, a man with a rifle shoves through the crowd and rushes to Willy’s side, breathless.

"Mr. Tybur!"

He whispers in Willy’s ear. Willy’s relaxed brow tightens immediately. He gestures for the trainer to stop and turns to the Minister.

"Mr. Minister, I’m afraid today’s entertainment will have to wait. Urgent business calls."

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Hange walked into Erwin’s office and dropped a stack of files onto his desk.

“Annie Leonhart’s been transferred to the FBI.”

Erwin nodded. “Good.”

Hange pulled up a chair and sat across from him, propping their chin on their hands.

“Erwin, how did you even think to have me look into Annie? Or rather… how did you know there was a mole in the first place?”

Erwin flipped through the documents as he spoke.

“That tunnel was built during the Cold War. A lot of people in Eldia’s underworld know it exists — which is why the Reiss family never dared connect it directly to the lab. The only reason they blew it open from the other side that day was because they were desperate.” He paused, carefully avoiding Levi’s name. “The number of armed men who showed up in that tunnel far exceeded our intel. Someone must have leaked the information. But if the rat had been present during our planning, Zeke Yeager wouldn’t have risked being at the lab that day. Judging by the timeline, the other side got the message right as we were mobilizing.”

Hange nodded slowly.

“And that day, I made a last-minute call to the dispatcher to borrow a few local patrol cars to control traffic around the fast-food joint. That dispatcher was Annie.” Their voice dropped. “I’m sorry, Erwin. That was on me.”

Erwin shook his head.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. The problem isn’t you — it’s the system. We’re not just fighting drug dealers anymore. We’re fighting a system that’s rotting from the inside.”

Hange frowned. “Are you saying… it’s not just Annie?”

“I don’t know,” Erwin admitted, rubbing his temples. “What I do know is that Eldia’s tourism revenue last year was fifty million dollars. The profits from drugs were over two hundred million. The Reiss organization, the Tybur Group — they even pay their fucking taxes legally. Willy Tybur gave a speech at the state university just a few days ago… and I don’t know how many of those kids looking up at him with admiration will have their lives destroyed by overdoses in a few years. Hange… there are too many of them.”

Silence settled over the office. After a long pause, Hange suddenly chuckled.

“Erwin, you really need to relax. Save the cynicism for later. At least this time we caught the mole, took out a meth lab, and Zeke Yeager’s warrant will be on every state police desk in a few days. Maybe you should reward yourself with a date.”

Erwin frowned. “A date?”

Hange scooted closer, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. Come on — tell me who it is. Man or woman?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erwin said, eyes back on the documents.

“Come on!” Hange slapped the desk. “You know exactly what I’m talking about — your mysterious crush!”

Erwin gave them a sidelong glance. “What was the question?”

Hange enunciated each word. “Is it a she… or a he?”

“Listen to yourself.” Erwin shook the papers at them. “You know I dated Marie. Marie was a she.”

“Anything’s possible,” Hange teased. “And I saw you staring at Officer Nile from next door for a long time the other day. If I didn’t know he was married with three kids and a happy family, I’d think you had a thing for him…” They leaned in closer, grinning. “Or maybe Nile reminds you of someone. Let me think… what stands out about that old guy? Black hair? Gray eyes?”

Erwin jerked back involuntarily. His chair rolled two steps and bumped against the cabinet.

He cleared his throat. “Hange, if you put half this gossip energy into your work, we’d have caught Zeke Yeager by now.”

It had been two weeks since the raid, and Erwin still hadn’t seen Levi. Over a month had passed since he’d blurted out that stupid line — I don’t want to hurt you. Every call he made went straight to voicemail. Levi had no fixed address. In all the years they’d known each other, Levi was almost always the one who came to him. Erwin didn’t even know where to start looking.

On another sleepless night, Erwin drove aimlessly through the city, block after block, until he found himself in a run-down neighborhood. Gunshots echoed in the distance. A baby’s cries and muffled curses between a man and a woman drifted from a nearby house. A police car screamed past, sirens wailing.

He stopped in front of a decaying church.

It was an abandoned Romanesque Catholic church, its exterior scrawled with graffiti and stained with who-knows-what. Erwin stepped out of the car, approached, and pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

A stench of mold and rot washed over him. Dirty bedding, empty cans, and used needles were strewn across the pews. The place usually served as a shelter for the homeless and addicts, but tonight it was eerily empty.

Years ago, Erwin had followed a teenage boy here — watched him hand a bar of stolen chocolate to a child in a homeless woman’s arms.

That was the first time he’d seen Levi.

Erwin walked between the pews. Moonlight streamed through bullet holes and broken stained glass, pooling across the filthy floorboards. The Virgin Mary’s head was long gone; her body was plastered with graffiti and chewing gum.

A scrape, scrape echoed from behind the statue. Erwin’s hand drifted instinctively toward his service weapon.

“Shit!” A hardened piece of gum hit the floor with a clink.

“Exploring ruins in the middle of the night. Very straight-male of you,” Levi’s voice called from behind the statue.

Erwin touched his nose. “And your compulsive cleaning is just as impressive.”

Levi scraped off another piece of gum before stepping out from behind the statue. “Ha! So now we’re comparing hobbies?”

Erwin shook his head. “Levi, I came to find you. Actually… I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I was worried about you.”

Levi tossed the scraper aside, peeled off his gloves, and dusted himself off. A faint bruise marked his face.

Erwin’s heart tightened. “Kenny?”

“Who else would dare hit me?” Levi shrugged. “But it’s fine. They never told me where the lab was, so they don’t suspect me yet. He just… needed to vent.”

“Yet?”

“Kenny executed over a dozen people — even ones who’d been with him for years. My turn will come eventually. But I’m not stupid. I won’t sit around waiting for it.” He paused. “You can stop worrying.”

Erwin nodded, though he didn’t feel reassured. He kept looking at Levi until Levi let out an irritated snort.

“So… how’s your rat problem?”

“Caught.”

Levi raised a brow. “Then why do you look like you swallowed shit?”

“Because I think she’s not the only one.”

“Reasonable.” Levi nodded. “I always knew the DEA was shit. Your whole system is shit.”

“You’re right,” Erwin said with a wry smile.

Levi blinked in surprise. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he stopped himself from saying anything sharper.

They stood there in silence for a while.

Erwin looked around the ruined church and spoke again.

“Did you know I used to come to church with my parents every Sunday? I was even in the choir.”

“Oh? I figured you were the kind of blond idiot who dated cheerleaders and captained the football team. So you were a church boy, huh?”

Erwin smiled. “I wasn’t that popular in school. More of a bookworm.”

Levi tilted his head, as if trying to picture a nerdy young Erwin. A faint smile crept across his lips.

“Doesn’t sound bad.”

“You’re not mocking me?”

“Why would I?” Levi shrugged. “I don’t like popular idiots anyway.”

Erwin hesitated, then added, “My father was a police officer.”

Levi frowned, annoyed by the sudden change of topic.

“He was a good man,” Erwin continued. “My mother and I were always afraid for him. We thought he’d end up one of those newspaper heroes — die gloriously while catching criminals. That’s what we expected.”

Levi’s expression grew serious.

“But he died on a perfectly ordinary afternoon,” Erwin said quietly. “He climbed onto the roof to clear leaves from the gutter and had a heart attack. He didn’t die like we imagined. He just… died.”

There was a rare vulnerability in his voice. Levi swallowed hard.

“Erwin…”

“I used to fear he’d become a hero. But after he died so quietly, I found myself wishing he had died a hero.” Erwin gave a bitter smile. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“So you’re confessing to the same hero-father fantasy every boy has? What’s next — teenage wet dreams and divine guilt? Maybe you just needed sex ed, church boy.”

Erwin stared at him blankly before shaking his head.

“No. It’s just… realizing how many unseen hands are at work, I feel like I might die like that too — on some ordinary afternoon, having accomplished nothing.”

“You won’t,” Levi said. “You know you won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“You’ll drag those hands into the light, one by one. Whether they’re big taxpayers or fucking directors, you’ll throw them in prison. They’ll tremble at the sound of your name, scrambling like rats in a dead-end sewer. Erwin — you know you’re not going to die of a heart attack on an ordinary afternoon.”

A long silence followed.

The moon had dipped lower, its light now falling across Erwin’s shoulders.

His shoulders shifted slightly as he exhaled, long and deep. “Oh…”

“Lower your head,” Levi said suddenly.

Erwin blinked, confused. Even though he was already looking down at Levi, he bent lower.

Almost at once, Levi reached up, gripped the back of Erwin’s neck, stepped forward — and kissed him.

Erwin’s mind barely registered what was happening. His hands hung helplessly at his sides, his heart pounding like a drum.

Just lips against lips, a few seconds, no more. Then Levi pulled back.

“Levi—”

“Don’t.” Levi pressed a hand over Erwin’s mouth. “Don’t speak. If you open your mouth, the smoke detector might go off from the dangerously high levels of straight-male energy.”

Only when he was sure Erwin wouldn’t try speaking again did he lower his hand and turn away.

“It’s okay, Erwin. It’s okay. I’ll… give you time.”

Chapter Text

2001, Mexico

Over a dozen hours have passed since the party was abruptly cut short. Tybur has locked himself in his room the entire time; from the faint sounds beyond the door, Zeke guesses he’s been making phone calls, one after another.

Out on the balcony, Zeke watches several men herd the tiger into a smaller cage and load it onto a truck. The beast stretches lazily inside, then lies down without protest.

Down in the courtyard, servants sweep away the remnants of last night—stacking scattered glasses onto trays, rearranging overturned chairs and tables.

When Zeke steps back inside, he finds Levi in the living room. At some point, he’s emerged from Tybur’s room and is now sitting on the sofa, chin propped on one hand, watching the morning news.

“Dio Magath, a senior executive of the Tybur Group, was taken from his Eldia office yesterday by DEA agents for questioning,” the anchor reports. “Sources suggest it may be linked to several ongoing smuggling investigations involving methamphetamine and cocaine…”

“I guess last night’s party was Willy Tybur’s last hurrah,” Zeke says, unable to hide a touch of satisfaction.

Levi glances his way. “If he goes down, you go down with him. What’s there to smile about?”

Zeke drops onto the sofa beside him. “We’re tied together for now, sure. Doesn’t mean I have to feel bad for the bastard.”

Levi turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “*For now*?”

“He’s running, isn’t he? He’d be arrested the second he set foot in the States. And he’s not taking me with him — I’m not that important.” Zeke’s voice carries a hard-earned cynicism. “The meth I make is good, sure. But cocaine is where the real money is. The profit from selling Cadillacs can’t touch selling Toyotas. Tybur gets that better than the Reiss family ever did. Kenny might’ve figured it out eventually… but he’s dead.” Zeke blinks at Levi. “*Thanks to us*.”

Levi’s lips twitch faintly. “You’re right. He won’t take you. In fact, he told me to bring you to Marley.”

Zeke’s eyelid twitches. “Marley? He’s not taking you either? After *everything* you’ve done for him? What a guy.”

Levi doesn’t rise to the anger in Zeke’s voice. “So… do you think you can escape me, stupid ape?”

Zeke studies him, shaking his head almost unconsciously. His voice softens. “Levi… do you really not care how he treats you?”

Levi ignores the question. “He built a new lab in Marley. You’ll work there.”

“…Will he take his wife and kids when he runs?”

“Of course.”

Zeke mutters a curse under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”

Levi glances over. “He’s still your boss.”

---

Some time later, Willy Tybur finally emerges. His usually immaculate blond hair is slightly disheveled, and he’s still wearing last night’s suit.

He strides straight to Levi, bends down, brushes the black hair from his forehead, and presses a kiss there. Then, after a pause, he kisses him deeply on the lips.

“Darling,” he whispers, “I have to stay in Colombia for a while. Stay safe. Protect Dr. Yeager… I’ll come back for you soon.”

Zeke snorts softly and rolls his eyes when Levi answers.

“Okay,” Levi says.

---

The car jolts over a series of potholes, past a field of unharvested poppies, and into a stretch of woods. The dirt road ahead is barely visible. Tires crunch over fallen branches, snapping them like bones.

The driver and passenger are two bearded Mexican men. Zeke tried talking to them earlier, but they’d waved him off, pretending not to understand English.

He looks at Levi beside him. Levi holds an M4 rifle, head leaned against the window, looking half-asleep — but Zeke knows he’s been scanning their surroundings the entire time.

“Ever been to Marley?” Zeke asks.

“No.”

Zeke leans closer, lowering his voice. “Think we could escape?”

Levi frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Zeke quickly sits back. After a beat, he says, “If Tybur convinced the Mexican defense minister to back him, I bet he promised a lot. I heard the guy’s planning to run for president. It’s the same here as in the States — campaigns cost money.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “So?”

“I’m just thinking… maybe he’s not going to fall after all.”

Levi studies him. “What are you getting at, ape?”

“Hey! Amigo!” Zeke suddenly calls out to the men in front. “Put on some music, huh? I’m dying here!”

The driver barks a stream of angry Spanish, clearly not understanding.

Zeke laughs awkwardly and waves it off. “Never mind.”

When he turns back, Levi is still staring at him.

Zeke clears his throat. “My brother’s in Marley.”

“What? Planning a family reunion?”

Zeke shakes his head. “I know my situation. I just thought… if he met you, he’d really like you. You’re his type.”

“What *type* is that?”

Zeke tilts his head, thinking. “A great fighter. Handles a gun in a… sexy way. And you’re good-looking. That’s my opinion, but Eren would agree.”

“Monkey.” Levi suddenly leans in, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Is your brother as much of a pervert as you?”

Zeke’s face flushes deep red. He swallows. “N–no… He’s straight.”

“Did I ask?”

Zeke’s pulse hammers. Sweat beads on his forehead, fogging his glasses.

He has no idea how to respond.

Fortunately, Levi leans back against the window again, gaze drifting outside as he mutters under his breath:

“Stupid ape.”

---

Meanwhile.

A small private jet carrying Willy Tybur and his family touches down on the tarmac. He stands, straightens his suit, and gestures for his wife and children to follow.

“Children,” he says with a smile, “did you know? Colombia is a very beautiful country.”

His youngest daughter is still peering out the window. “Daddy… do Colombian airports usually have this many police?”

Willy’s heart sinks. He rushes to the window — and freezes. A dozen police officers in LAPD uniforms stand outside, weapons trained on the aircraft door.

At their center stands a tall figure with long hair and glasses. They quickly spot Tybur and wave cheerfully.

“Welcome to California, Mr. Tybur!” they call out.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you!"

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin sat in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the warehouse ahead. A tall, lanky blond youth clambered out of a window, dropped to the ground with a dull thud, and sprinted toward the car.

Erwin pressed his walkie-talkie.

“Hange, status?”

“Not great… The car left your location, but it’s just circling the highway. No intention of leaving the city,” came the crackling reply.

“Copy.”

The rear door opened and the blond youth slid inside.

“Sir, it’s empty. Nothing. Cleaner than my goddamn apartment,” Jean said, shoving sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What now?”

Erwin didn’t answer. His gaze was locked on the warehouse. His brow furrowed. “Jean. When you went in—was that AC unit running?”

Jean leaned forward to look. The external unit hummed now, fan blades spinning.
“Shit. No.”

Erwin drew his pistol, signaled, and sprinted toward the warehouse.

Inside was as bare as Jean had said, scraps of construction debris scattered across the floor. Jean trailed Erwin, glancing up.

“Hot as a Chinatown kitchen in here. Where the hell’s that AC even blowing?”

“Shh.” Erwin crept toward a heavy concrete slab. A faint trace of music seeped up from beneath. It grew louder. Then the slab shifted.

“Take cover! Now!” Erwin yanked Jean toward the window. They dove outside, pressed against the wall.

Through the glass they watched the slab scrape open. A bearded man hauled himself out, AK slung across his back, a radio in hand—the source of the music.

Jean muttered, “What are these guys, moles? Why are they always digging holes…”

Erwin turned back toward the car, already pressing his walkie-talkie. “Hange, break off the tail. Bring your team back.”

Hange slammed a hand on the table. “A tunnel under the warehouse? Damn it—that explains everything. They unload inside, send the truck out as a decoy, keep us chasing shadows.”

Jean bristled. “Then let’s hit them now! What are we waiting for?”

Erwin shook his head. “That gets us three hundred pounds of coke and a handful of grunts who’ve never even seen Willy Tybur’s face. Useless.”

“Three hundred pounds is a hell of a haul!” Jean snapped. “I haven’t seen that much in my whole time with the DEA!”

Hange clapped his shoulder. “Easy, Jean-boy. You’ll see more. Let’s hear the captain out.”

Erwin traced a finger across the map spread before them. “This has always been Reiss territory. Now Tybur’s men are tunneling under their noses, moving product. When the Reiss family finds out, what happens?”

“They fight,” Hange said flatly.

“Exactly. Nabbing small-timers won’t topple an empire. But if the empire tears itself apart—”

Jean cut in, incredulous. “What are we, referees at a bloodsport? Connie, Sasha—what do you think?”

Sasha, mouth full of burger, mumbled, “I thought this was supposed to be a celebration dinner…”

Connie scratched his buzzed head. “Doesn’t really sound like DEA work, does it?”

Erwin’s gaze drifted to the window. Sunset bled across the glass, staining his eyes a strange violet-red.

“For years the DEA’s done what it thinks it’s supposed to—seizing scraps, jailing kids with dime bags—while Tybur and Reiss built empires, flooding the world with meth and coke.” He turned, eyes burning.

“So tell me—what should the DEA be doing?”

---

Jean, in an oversized Marilyn Manson tee and sagging corduroys, skateboard underfoot, bantered with Connie, who smoked nearby in the same slouched style.

A group of hard-eyed men passed, guns heavy at their waists. Jean raised his voice. “What tunnel? You mean that empty warehouse on the corner?”

Connie hissed, grinding his cigarette out. “Keep it down, idiot.”

Jean swung his board up under one arm, slapped Connie’s shoulder. “There’s good shit in there, right? So we could—”

Connie clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even think about it. You don’t know who those guys are. I’m not dying as cannon fodder.”

The men glanced back, one pulling a phone. Connie and Jean melted off the curb, disappearing into the dark.

---

Late night.

Hange set the phone down. “Reiss crew’s here.”

Erwin nodded.

“How do you think they’ll play it?” Hange asked.

Erwin drew a long breath. “If Kenny Ackerman’s leading… the worst way possible.”

Jean, Connie, Sasha—all in their street-kid disguises—shifted nervously.

“I can’t believe this,” Jean muttered, fists tight. “We’re really doing this?”

They crouched on an overpass, binoculars aimed at the warehouse.

Black cars slid to a stop. A dozen armed men spilled out. At their head, a tall, thin man in a fedora.

“Kenny Ackerman,” Hange said, voice steady.

Erwin’s pulse spiked. Then he saw the short, black-clad figure at the rear.

“Christ. That a kid?” Jean blurted. “The Reiss family uses kids now?”

Erwin’s nails dug crescents into his palms. His chest tightened with every breath.

Smoke billowed from the warehouse. Soot-stained men staggered out, herded to their knees in a line.

Kenny stepped forward, raised his gun, and executed the first with a single shot. The body toppled, blood pooling on the concrete.

Connie and Sasha lowered their binoculars, turning away.

Jean looked skyward, voice breaking. “If this is what the DEA should do… if this is—” He couldn’t finish.

Erwin didn’t hear him. His eyes were fixed on the small figure at the rear. Through the lenses he couldn’t see the boy’s expression, only the motion as he raised his pistol at the final kneeling man.

A muted gunshot.

Erwin’s heart splintered.

---

3 a.m.

Erwin pulled into his driveway, bone-tired. Keys in hand, he trudged toward the door—then froze. A small shadow was curled on the stoop.

His breath caught. “Levi…”

The boy lifted his head. Dark rings hollowed his eyes.

Erwin reached out instinctively. Levi recoiled. Erwin’s throat tightened. He softened his voice.

“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you go inside?”

Levi’s voice was raw, unfocused. “I…” He steadied his gaze on Erwin’s face. Quietly: “I’m sorry, Erwin.”

Erwin’s chest twisted. He turned the key, pushed the door open, unable to look at him.

Levi lingered, blank-eyed.

Erwin coaxed, “Come in. We’ll talk inside.”

Levi stepped past the threshold, halted, and said slowly:“I killed a man today.”

Erwin froze mid-motion. The keys clattered into the dish. Words caught in his throat.

Levi studied him, suspicion sharpening into clarity. “You knew?”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

“You saw?”

Erwin’s hands closed around his shoulders. His blue eyes brimmed with apology. “I’m sorry.”

Levi glanced at those hands, then back up. A pause. Then a small nod. “Oh… I see.”

He muttered, almost to himself, “So stupid… why didn’t I realize sooner? That explains it…”

Erwin pulled him close, arms tightening. His eyes burned red. His lips pressed into Levi’s hair, whispering again and again:

“I’m sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry.”

Like a child clutching a kitten he had stepped on.

---

Levi’s muffled voice rose against his chest.

“Hey, straight guy. You kissing my hair?”

Erwin froze, pulled back. Their eyes met, red-rimmed, unguarded.

Levi’s mouth twitched; the corners of his eyes softened.

“What you’re doing… doesn’t look like DEA work. Or straight-guy work.”

Erwin had explanations—dozens of them. But instead he thought, fuck it.

He lowered his head, cupped Levi’s face, and kissed him.

Clumsy. Unpracticed. Teeth colliding. And then Levi answered without hesitation, arms winding around his neck, tongue pushing past his lips. A sigh escaped him, long and aching, as though he had been waiting forever.

---

They broke apart breathless, cheeks flushed.

Levi’s gaze dipped. His finger traced down Erwin’s chest, tapped the hardness below.

“Sir, did you forget to tell this big guy you’re straight?”

---

Erwin stumbled back, shaken. “Levi, I—”

Levi stretched lazily, merciful. “Got anything to drink?”

He brushed Erwin’s arm—accidentally, or not—as he walked past into the kitchen.

Erwin stood frozen, forcing down the heat in his gut. He turned to see Levi at the fridge, bottle tilted, Adam’s apple rising and falling.

He swallowed hard. He tried to drown the image with bureaucratic tedium: budget forms, Pixis’s face, Connie and Sasha bickering over pizza, Hange’s laugh.

“Erwin, can I stay tonight?”

Everything vanished. Only Levi remained.

“Of… of course.”

Shame prickled. He wasn’t blind to Levi’s feelings. He knew his own were shifting. But not tonight. Not like this.

Levi nodded. “Got any clothes? Mine feel like shit.”

He was still in the same outfit from Kenny’s execution line. No visible stains, but Erwin understood.

He dug out an old hoodie and sweats from high school. Levi held them up; even those hung too large.

He sighed. “I’ll look ridiculous. Like a kitten in people clothes. But fine.”

As Levi disappeared into the bathroom, Erwin thought: Maybe I should ask Hange to shop with me this weekend.

But… a kitten in human clothes.

He closed his eyes, chanting to himself: Forms, Pixis, pizza fights, Hange’s laughter. Hange’s laughter. Hange’s laughter.

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Willy Tybur’s meth lab sits deep in the jungles of the Marleyan mountains, a four-hour drive from the nearest city. Since Zeke and Levi arrived, they haven’t left.

Around the lab, a cluster of rough wooden cabins houses the Mexican guards Tybur hired. Watchtowers ring the site, manned around the clock, rifles always trained on the shifting shadows of the jungle.

Word of Tybur’s arrest in the U.S. reached them days ago. South American cartels are circling, hungry for his assets. Even the Fritz poppy growers are clawing for their share of the crumbling empire.

-

Zeke staggers out of the lab, tearing off his gas mask. Sweat slicks his hair flat against his skull. He strips the protective suit before he even makes it to the cabin door.

Inside, the air is cooler. He yanks a beer from the fridge, drains half in one swallow, then notices Levi watching from the couch, his expression pure contempt.

“So I’m the only poor bastard actually doing any work in this hellhole?” Zeke grouses.

“You’re the one who won’t let anyone else in your lab.”

“I just don’t want those Mexicans in there,” Zeke shoots back. “But you could. Having you around might even keep me motivated. Isn’t that why Tybur sent you? He knows I’ll let you in.”

Levi curls his lip. “I don’t want to go in. Your lab reeks. And so do you.”

Zeke peels off his drenched shirt, sniffs an armpit, shrugs. “Passable.” He drops onto the couch with a smirk.

“Since when did you stop taking orders from Tybur?”

“None of your business.”

“Let me guess. After everything he’s done to you, you’re finally rethinking it?”

“Or maybe I just want a new patron now that he’s locked up.” Levi rolls his eyes.

“Do you need one?” Zeke leans in, flexing. “How do I measure up?”

Levi eyes him up and down. “You? A monkey stuck in the ass-end of nowhere, sweating his guts out for someone else? No thanks.”

Zeke deflates a little, then rallies. “If Tybur’s really finished, what’s your plan?”

“Got any career advice?”

Zeke clears his throat, about to answer—when the window explodes.

“Down!”

He tackles Levi, glass slicing into his bare back.

“Get off me, ape!” Levi kicks him away, rolls behind the counter, and returns fire.

Zeke crashes under the couch, decides the glass hurts less than Levi’s boot. He grabs a pistol from the coffee table. Bullets chew the cushions, spraying foam.

He racks a round, leans out to fire—then freezes.

A body drops from the nearest tower. More sprawl across the ground. Camouflaged figures advance out of the jungle.

“Fuck! Where did they all come from? Who the hell are they with?”

Levi doesn’t answer. He fires, reloads, fires again. Each shot finds its mark.

Zeke squeezes off a few wild rounds, drawing fire like a lightning rod.

Levi drops another man, flicks him a look. “Stupid monkey, save a bullet for yourself.”

Zeke scrambles over. “Then what’s the plan, Boss?”

Levi boots the fridge over. “Up. Vent shaft.”

“I stand up, I’m a two-hundred-pound target!”

“I’ll cover you.”

Zeke groans, climbs onto the fridge, hacks at the fan with a kitchen knife. A bullet grazes his thigh; he stumbles down.

“Move!” Levi empties a burst into the vent. The fan clatters free.

Boots pound at the door.

“Monkey—bend over!”

Zeke hunches. Levi braces the rifle on his back, unleashing hell into the doorway. The recoil nearly drives Zeke flat.

“Go!”

Levi vaults up, hauls himself through. Zeke scrambles after.

-

“What now?” Zeke hisses, rubbing his bruised back.

Levi scans the roof, then vaults off into the shrubs.

“Fuck!” Zeke tumbles after, cursing. “A little warning!”

“Shh.” Levi clamps a hand over his mouth.

Through the brush, dozens of armed men swarm the cabin.

“Move.”

Levi slips deeper into the jungle.

“They’ll figure it out soon,” Zeke pants. “Got a plan?”

“Willy stashed a vehicle.”

“Oh, thoughtful. The man tries to get you killed, but leaves you a car.”

“Shut up, monkey.”

They find the jeep under a tarp. Levi rips it off.

“You drive.”

“Why me? I’m half-dead!”

“You want me to?”

Zeke sighs and climbs in. The engine roars. Gunfire follows.

-

They drive until the chase dies, dusk settling over a plain of agave and cactus.

In the mirror, Levi sits steady with his rifle.

“You know,” Zeke says, “I finally saw it. ‘One Man, One Army.’ You’re incredible.”

“And yet we ran like dogs. You’re an optimist, monkey.”

“That was a hundred men.”

Levi leans back, weary. “And now? Now I don’t know where to go.”

“I do.” Zeke grips the wheel. “Rest.”

Levi closes his eyes, though Zeke knows he’s awake. Levi never really sleeps.

Zeke opens the glove box. Cash. Passports. A handgun.

“Cheap bastard.”

“More guns in the trunk,” Levi murmurs. “What are you digging for?”

“Clothes! Isn’t it obvious?”

“If he left any, they’re my size. You think you could wear them?”

Zeke grimaces, imagines it. Out the windshield, a motel sign glows yellow in the dusk.

“There. They’ll have something that fits.”

Levi doesn’t object.

-

2001, Eldia, USA

“Officer Hange, Dio Magath testified Rob Reiss was the mastermind. Does this change the DEA’s stance?”

“Willy Tybur’s lawyer says he’ll sue Agent Jean Kirstein for hijacking a jet. Your comment?”

“Is Willy Tybur a drug lord?”

Reporters shove mics at Hange and their team. Hange keeps their eyes ahead, silent, shouldering through the crush. In an empty conference room, the door shut, they finally spit one word:

“Fuck.”

They sink into a chair, fists tight.

The door bursts open. Jean, Connie, and Sasha storm in.

“Magath flipped! His testimony’s trash now!” Connie slams the table.

“And I might go to court for hijacking a billionaire’s jet,” Jean mutters.

“I made that call,” Hange says. “You won’t take the fall alone.”

Jean shakes his head. “That’s not it. It’s—do we ever win? We had the evidence, we cornered Tybur. I thought we had him.”

“Hange…” Sasha says softly. “If he walks, people die. The Mexican cops who helped us, the informant… they’ll all be in danger.”

“I know.” Hange drags a hand through their hair. A face rises in memory. What would you do?

They rise suddenly, eyes sharp.

Arresting small-timers won’t cut it. We dismantle the empire from within. Force them to devour each other.

The Reiss family is finished. Tybur’s real enemy is in Marley.

“Soldiers,” Hange says. “We’re going to Marley.”

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

This wasn’t the first time Levi had stayed over at Erwin’s house, but he had never once slept in a bed. Even though Erwin had plenty of guest rooms, Levi always chose the couch—and always slipped away before Erwin woke up.

Lying in bed, Erwin pictured him now: swallowed up in clothes far too big, curled into a small knot on the sofa. But would he even sleep? Only hours after shooting a man dead.

And why did he refuse to sleep in a bed?

Erwin realized, with a start, that he had never asked.

He sat up, left the bedroom, and stepped into the living room.

Moonlight from the windows painted everything in deep blue. Levi sat on the couch hugging his knees, childlike, eyes fixed on a row of photo albums lined on the cabinet opposite. Photos of Erwin with his parents. The one in the center: his father in his police uniform.

Levi turned when he heard Erwin.

“Shouldn’t you be arresting me? Your father’s watching.”

Erwin walked over, flipped the photo facedown.

“He would understand.”

Levi let out a small, derisive sound, but said nothing more.

Erwin sat beside him. “Levi, why don’t you want to sleep in a bed?”

Levi blinked, expression puzzled, then narrowed his eyes. “Are you inviting me into yours?”

Erwin’s gaze didn’t waver. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Levi pressed his lips together, silent.

The stalemate stretched, until at last he spoke. “Because I don’t like beds. You know… my mother was a prostitute. The bed was her workplace. I grew up on the couch. Later, with Kenny, gunshots woke me almost every night. Sleeping on the couch meant I could be up and under cover in a second.”

His eyes met Erwin’s directly. “I can’t get too comfortable. I need to be able to wake instantly. That’s your answer.”

Erwin’s lips parted. He reached toward Levi’s shoulder. “Levi…”

Levi flinched back. “Don’t. If you’re about to feed me some shit like ‘sorry you had to grow up like that,’ save it.”

Erwin pulled back, rested his hand on his knee. “I’m sorry.”

No reply. He sighed, helpless. “Do you want to talk about today?”

“You mean about how I shot a drug dealer while half the DEA watched? With their senior agent, in his high school clothes, sitting right here? Oh, sure. Who wouldn’t want to relive that?” His sarcasm cut deep.

“This was my fault,” Erwin said simply, taking the barb.

“Erwin…” Levi buried his face in his knees. His voice softened. “You know I’ll forgive you. So… what exactly do you want to talk about?”

“I want to know what you were thinking then.”

Levi lifted his head, grey eyes blank. “What answer do you want? That I’m drowning in regret? That I can’t sleep for the look in that man’s dying eyes?”

Erwin’s hand finally rested on his shoulder.

“No,” Levi said suddenly.

“All I thought about was you. Only you.”

His eyes went red, voice rasping.

“I was terrified you’d never forgive me. That the next time I saw you, it would be across a jail cell. Is that what you wanted to hear, Officer Erwin?”

Erwin pulled him close, kissed his hair. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, Levi. Please forgive me.”

Levi’s arms came up around his shoulders, returning the hold. His voice was almost a sigh. “You know I will.”

“I know,” Erwin whispered. “I know.”

Levi buried his face against Erwin’s neck. “Maybe this is just who I am. Bad seed. Born wrong. No guilt no matter how many people I kill. Raised by Kenny, after all.”

Erwin stroked his hair. “You’re not. I am.”

Levi stiffened, then tilted his head back. He pressed his fingers over Erwin’s bloodshot eyes and bit sharply at his stubbled chin.

“Idiot.”

His voice was unbearably gentle.

2001, Marley

Zeke sits on the motel bed, eyes locked on the bathroom door. Behind frosted glass, a blurred silhouette moves under running water. Steam seeps out from the gap at the bottom.

The motel’s soundproofing is garbage. For twenty-nine bucks a night, no one expects better. The couple next door argue in Spanish—Zeke can’t understand—but what follows, he understands just fine.

The creak of bedsprings. A man’s grunt. A woman’s moan. A universal language.

He aches for a cigarette but doesn’t dare, not with Levi in the shower. So he just stares in despair as his pants tighten because of that figure moving behind glass.

The bathroom door swings open. Levi steps out, towel-drying his hair. The citrus reek of cheap motel body wash clings to him. He hears the sounds next door immediately.

“Fuck.”

Then his eyes find Zeke, who’s doing a pathetic job of hiding his erection. Pure contempt. “Seems the monkey’s getting worked up over the neighbors.”

Zeke takes a breath, admits flatly, “Has nothing to do with them.”

Levi frowns. Meets his gaze. One word, sharp as a blade: “Pervert.”

Zeke stares, swallowing. Levi’s fresh from the shower, skin flushed pink, a plain white shirt and loose pants clinging lightly, bare feet pale, toes pink.

Zeke decides, fuck it. He strips off the borrowed shirt, muscles flexing.

“Levi…” His voice is rough. “You know how many people want to fuck you?”

Levi glares. “All perverts like you.”

“How do you know I want to fuck you?” Zeke presses, shameless.

“It’s written on your face. And your dick.”

Zeke grins, steps closer. “So you’ve been looking, huh? Too big to ignore?”

Levi’s eyes flick to his crotch. A dangerous smile. “Keep talking and I’ll swap your dick with your head. See if it fits on your neck.”

A low groan slips from Zeke’s throat. “Talk like that and I get harder…”

Levi rolls his eyes, keeps toweling his hair.

Zeke inches closer, inhaling citrus, voice almost pleading. “You like big ones, right? Wanna compare me to Tybur’s? I promise I won’t disappoint.”

Levi turns, eyes narrowing. He lifts a knee, brushes it against Zeke’s groin. Just as Zeke moans, Levi kicks him hard onto the bed.

“Ah—fuck!” Zeke clutches himself, eyes wet.

“Pervert,” Levi spits again.

Zeke writhes, thumping the mattress. “I just… really want to fuck you!”

Levi crosses his arms, watching. “Oh?”

“Yes! Harder than Tybur ever did! I want to hear you moan, see your face when you come, lick every inch of you. I want you so bad!”

Levi walks over slowly. Zeke struggles to sit up.

“Don’t move.”

Zeke flops back instantly, jaw clenched.

Levi straddles him, seizes his wrists, and binds them tight with Zeke’s belt to the iron headboard.

Zeke’s breath comes ragged. Levi pats his cheek. “Relax, monkey. Don’t be so thirsty.”

Zeke bucks his hips. “My cock’s gonna explode…”

Levi presses a hand down on his bulge. Zeke gasps, “Please, Levi…”

“Shut up.”

Levi unzips him, frees him. Zeke lifts his hips but freezes when Levi growls.

“You sound disgusting, monkey.” Yet his hand strokes him expertly, cruelly pulling away the moment Zeke’s close.

Zeke roars, straining helplessly.

Levi strips off his own shirt. Zeke’s eyes nearly burst. His words are cut off when the shirt is shoved into his mouth.

Bound, gagged, Zeke watches Levi undress, pale thighs revealed, slender fingers lubing up. His whole body twists, cock straining.

Levi fingers himself slowly, trembling. Zeke nearly loses his mind.

Then Levi grasps him, lowers himself, hot and tight around Zeke’s cock.

Zeke’s roar shakes the room. He bucks, Levi rides, gasps spilling out.

Zeke slams up into him, head thrown back, until the world goes white. He empties inside, shuddering.

Levi collapses on his chest, panting. After a long moment, he pulls the gag free. Zeke tries to speak but a slap cuts him off.

“Who said you could come inside?”

Levi looks down, sees the mess dripping down his thighs. “So fucking gross.”

Zeke begs, hoarse. “Let me—please…”

Levi hesitates, then frees his wrists. “No kissing.”

Zeke stiffens. “…Fine.”

He presses Levi close, thick fingers working him open, pressing deep until Levi convulses, crying out, body trembling apart in his arms.

Zeke kisses his damp hair, secretly. Levi finally pulls away, staggering to the bathroom.

“I’ve never been this filthy in my life,” Levi mutters.

“You’re not filthy,” Zeke pants. “You’re beautiful.”

Levi ignores him, shuts the door. Zeke sighs, eyes closed, letting his erection fade.

1999, Eldia, USA

“Erwin?”

“Hm?”

Levi looked at him, words caught in his throat. Erwin prompted softly, “What is it?”

“You planning to hold me all night? Is this some new straight-guy hobby?”

Erwin smiled wryly. “Am I never going to live this down?”

“Never.” Levi buried his face against him, muttering, “Never, ever.”

“Alright.” Erwin chuckled. “If you won’t sleep in the bed, then I’ll sleep here with you.”

Levi wriggled, pressing him down onto the couch, nestling into his arm, tangling their legs. He closed his eyes, content.

“Fine. Goodnight, my cuddle bear.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zeke wakes up and opens his eyes, only to suck in a sharp breath and freeze, not daring to move a muscle.

It isn’t a gun pressed to his forehead or a knife against his neck. It’s the fact that Levi is in his arms.

He feels like a zoologist waking up in the wild, both thrilled and terrified to find a feral creature curled beside him.

Not that Levi is a beast—at least not a tiger or lion. He’s more like the sand cat Zeke once saw in a magazine: small, deceptively cute, but vicious as hell.

Levi’s head rests against Zeke’s chest, one hand gripping his pec, his breathing shallow and even.

Zeke cautiously lifts a hand, wanting to touch Levi’s face, but snatches it back. If Levi wakes up, this precious moment will vanish instantly.

Half his body is numb, his wrist throbs where rope burns still linger. Damn. Last night really was intense. He wonders, darkly amused, what Eren would say if he saw this.

After what feels like forever, the figure in his arms stirs. Zeke hurriedly shuts his eyes, feigning sleep.

“Shit!” Levi jerks upright, springs away from him, shaking out the hand that had been gripping Zeke’s chest. He mutters under his breath, “Fucking disgusting stupid ape…”

Zeke can’t take it anymore. He opens his eyes and sits up. “You’re the one who crawled into my arms to sleep! Why the hell are you cursing me?!”

“You were already awake?” Levi glares.

“Yes!” Zeke rubs his deadened arm. “I didn’t move a damn muscle so you could sleep a little longer! Do you have any conscience? Is this how you treat your free sex toy, body pillow, machine-gun bipod, mounting step, and punching bag? I didn’t know I was your entire Swiss Army knife!”

Levi’s face darkens. Zeke immediately shields his head with his arms, bracing for a beating. But nothing comes. Peeking through his elbows, he sees Levi has already slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

Zeke exhales, half pathetic, half satisfied with his own tirade. He starts pulling on clothes, then suddenly freezes. A dreadful thought hits him:

Levi must have mistaken him for someone else.

Tybur.

Fuck. Zeke prays Tybur is dead.

Today he takes extra care shaving. It’s not that he dislikes the bearded look, but they’re meeting Eren. He doesn’t want anyone mistaking him for his brother’s father.

He combs his blond curls back neatly, runs a hand over his smooth jawline. Handsome bastard.

Striding out, he hovers a little too obviously in front of Levi, who’s lounging with the TV on.

“Stop blocking the screen, stupid monkey.”

The rebel in Zeke sparks instantly. He plants himself directly in front of it. “Don’t you think I look handsomer than Tybur now that I’ve shaved?”

Levi jerks his chin toward the TV. “He’s on the news. Judge for yourself.”

Zeke turns.

The crappy motel TV flickers, but it’s clear enough: Willy Tybur, three-piece suit immaculate, smiling before a wall of microphones. “The Tybur Group has always complied with the law and will never tolerate drug smuggling. I strongly support the DEA’s crackdown… You know, my eldest son will be in middle school soon. God willing, he shouldn’t even be able to buy marijuana by then…” The reporters laugh.

“Fuck! He’s just… out? Like nothing happened?” Zeke points at the screen in disbelief.

“Looks like he’s an anti-drug ambassador now,” Levi shrugs.

“You don’t look too happy about it,” Zeke says carefully.

“As you said…” Levi’s lip curls. “He discarded me. Why would I be happy for him?”

Zeke thinks of Levi asleep in his arms. “You’d better have really seen him for what he is. But… what if he comes back for you?”

“Maybe.” Levi frowns faintly. “But he’d better not.”

“Why? What would you do if he did?”

Levi lowers his gaze. “I’d kill him.”

Zeke shivers. “That’s… extreme, isn’t it?”

“Extreme?” Levi’s eyes narrow. “Monkey, don’t you want him dead?”

“How do you know I want him dead? He’s still my boss.”

“Is that so?” Levi’s gray eyes bore into him. “His Marley operations are finished. This PR act might fool idiots back home, but it’ll piss off South American suppliers. No one will sell to him now. And that Defense Minister tied to him? His presidential run is already sunk. Tybur’s foundations are crumbling. And you—Monkey, what exactly does your little brother do in Marley?”

Zeke’s spine prickles. Levi is sharper than he’d thought.

“He runs a… small company.”

Levi lets out a dry laugh. “You wouldn’t dare sleep with me just because your brother runs a ‘small company.’”

“Then what about you?” Zeke crosses his arms. “Why’d you sleep with me? Lonely without Tybur?”

Levi’s eyes flicker—surprised Zeke dares to push back.

“Though you did look pretty lonely, clutching me in your sleep and groping my pec,” Zeke adds smugly.

That earns him a flying kick. He curls on the floor, groaning, yet still thinks it worth it.

“I slept with you because I’m somewhat interested in your brother,” Levi says idly.

“Fuck!” Zeke roars. “You fuck me and now want to fuck my brother too? He’s straight!”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Is there anything in that ape brain besides sex?”

Zeke pauses. True—Levi has no reason to lust after someone he’s never met.

“You want to know what his company does?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“I grew up in cartels. I moved from Reiss to Tybur because I knew Reiss would fall. And now Tybur’s falling too.”

“Hah. So you’re sniffing around for a new patron.” Zeke arches a brow. “And you’re sure my brother’s company isn’t legit?”

“What legitimate business could the Yeager brothers possibly run?”

“You wouldn’t like legitimate business anyway…” Zeke winks at him. “Which means you’re not really interested in Eren. You’re interested in me.”

Levi’s lips twitch, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again.

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin called Levi from outside a bar.

It was a little past nine. Dinner hour had passed, but it wasn’t late. For a normal date, he would have booked a nice place, changed after work, shown up ten minutes early, and waited. That wasn’t in the cards for them.

This barely counted as a date. Driving home, he’d simply felt a sharp need to see Levi.

He pulled over. Eldia’s sidewalks were usually a mess, but this block looked clean. Titan Bar—decent name. No obvious addicts or gang lookouts. He made the call.

The phone rang a few times before a snap of Levi’s voice cut through: “Fuck off! Can’t afford it! Get lost!”—clearly to someone nearby. Then, muttered, “Another fucking telemarketer.”

The line went dead.

Awkward, Erwin pocketed his phone. It rang again—unknown number. He answered. Levi.

“What’s up? Couldn’t talk earlier. Someone was around.” He sounded tired.

Erwin’s palms went damp. “I’m outside a bar. Can you come?”

“A bar?” Levi gave a soft chuckle. “Since when do you hit bars after work, straight guy?”

“It’s Titan Bar in Trost. Looks clean.”

“Titan Bar?” Levi sounded surprised. “Of course it’s quiet. Mike’s got a bloodhound nose. No dealer or gangster in Eldia brings their dirt onto his turf.”

“Mike? The owner? You know him?”

Levi hesitated. “Not really.” After a beat: “You want me to come now?”

“If you can.”

“Alright… Give me twenty minutes.”

Inside, the place was rustic. A few patrons at a brick counter. The blond man behind it was absurdly tall, wiping glasses with forearms that looked carved from oak. Erwin slipped into a corner booth.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Levi blew in like a gust.

“Hey! Kid! ID!” the blond barkeep called.

“Fuck off.”

Levi flipped him off and dropped into the booth opposite Erwin, hair a little mussed. He smoothed it absently with one hand; the other lay on the table.

“Good evening, Sir.”

“Been busy?”

“Reiss and Tybur’s guys are at each other’s throats, thanks to you. Won’t be long before you find Willy’s weak point. DEA’s had a haul too, huh? Heard you intercepted several shipments.”

“Not bad.” Erwin smiled. “Want a drink?”

Clang—two glasses landed on the table.

The blond giant had materialized beside them. Easily over two meters, shirt straining at the seams.

“My treat,” he said, sliding a beer to Erwin and a light-brown drink to Levi. “Out of hot water. Lemon iced tea.”

He offered a hand. “Mike.”

“Erwin.” Strong grip.

“A friend of Levi’s?” Mike wrinkled his nose, as if scenting him.

“Mike.” Levi tapped the tabletop, voice tight. “Quit socializing with strangers. Your regulars are waiting.”

Mike looked from Levi to Erwin, a slow smile spreading. “Got it. Won’t disturb you two then.”

Erwin watched Mike go, uneasy. Levi sipped, coughed lightly. “Mike sniffs every stranger. Habit, not malice. If someone blew weed in your face three days ago, he’d smell it. The DEA should hire him for a dog.”

“You sound familiar with him.”

“Just… somewhat.” Levi’s eyes slid away.

“All right.” Erwin spun his beer. “We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine here. Mike’s reliable. If you have something to—”

He stopped short, as if realizing something, eyes widening slightly.

“This isn’t a date, is it?”

Now Erwin was the one off balance. He took a sip. “What? Doesn’t seem like one?”

Levi shook his head, a strange look flashing across his face, then he laughed, soft and profane. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Thought of a joke.”

“Let me guess,” Erwin said, helpless, “about straight guys?”

“God…” Levi pressed a hand to his forehead, laughing harder. “This is too weird, Erwin. Don’t you think?”

“Think what?”

“We’re on a date,” Levi repeated. “We’re… on a date. In a place like this.”

Erwin’s brow drew in. He didn’t see what was funny, and the attitude stung—just a little.

Levi noticed immediately. He stood. “Let’s go. Somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere more suitable for a date.”

As they passed the bar, Mike whistled. “Have fun, baby doll~”

“Shut up, Chewbacca,” Levi shot back.

Outside, Erwin glanced over his shoulder. Mike watched him with a peculiar smile.

“My car’s over there. Follow me in my car…” Levi said, then turned to find Erwin lingering. “Hey! Erwin?”

“Baby doll?” Erwin stood chewing on it.

Levi’s expression shifted. “What about it?”

“Why does he call you that?”

“Big oaf’s term for short people,” Levi said evenly.

“No… then it should be shorty, midget, or—”

“Hey.” Levi scowled. “Want me to hit you?”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Erwin hurried. “I don’t think short deserves that. You’re built well for your height and you’re… quite cute.”

“Enough.” Levi kneaded his temples. “God. Get in the car.”

In Levi’s car, buckled in, Erwin said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” Levi sighed. “Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t use an insult even on a heinous criminal.”

Erwin relaxed. “Good. You’re not angry.”

Levi didn’t start the engine. He tossed the keys, caught them, then slipped them back into his pocket.

“Erwin?”

“Hm?”

“I like you,” Levi said softly.

Heat crept up Erwin’s neck. He was about to answer when Levi added, haltingly, “Actually… I don’t have a better place in mind either. I just didn’t want to stay there with you.”

“Because of Mike?” Erwin guessed.

“Yeah.” Levi took a breath. “Mike is my former… fuck buddy. Being there with you felt weird. That’s why I laughed—not at you, at myself.”

“So, baby doll?” Erwin said, understanding.

“God.” Levi slumped against the wheel. “Don’t say that stupid name again.”

“Okay.” Erwin’s thoughts were a tangle, but he didn’t want Levi thinking he minded. Lightly: “It’s fine. How about my place?”

Levi glanced over, a slow, meaningful smile forming. “First date and you’re taking me home? Moving fast, Sir.”

Erwin ruffled his hair. “All right, cut it out.” He unbuckled and opened the door. “Let’s take my car back instead.”

Levi followed him over.

On the drive, Erwin couldn’t help it. “That bar owner—Mike—pretty tall?”

“Why else would I call him Chewbacca?” Levi paused, then added, thoughtful, “But I think you’re about the same height.”

“Really?” Erwin doubted it. Mike had seemed taller. How tall was Chewbacca again? At least a head taller than Han Solo. And Harrison Ford—he’d have to look it up.

Levi rolled his eyes. “You over-six-foot types are all giants to me. I don’t rank giants for fun.”

Erwin wisely shut up.

Back at Erwin’s, Levi moved differently. He swaggered in, dug a bag of cheese puffs out of the cupboard, kicked off his shoes mid-stride, sprawled on the sofa, and started snacking with the TV on.

In the kitchen, Erwin made tea and watched that small back. Maybe something would happen tonight. He’d never slept with a man. But he was past accepting the idea. He wanted it.

Baby doll. Him and Mike—

“Shit!” Water overflowed the cup. He wiped the puddle, heart thudding.

When he set down the tea and sat, Levi leaned back into him, nuzzled, settled.

Erwin slid an arm around his shoulders, tried to ignore his heartbeat, and nodded toward the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Junk.” Levi flipped channels. “Housewives screaming in mansions with yards the size of soccer fields. I don’t get you middle-class people.”

Erwin chuckled. “We could find a ball game.”

Levi blinked up at him. “Or we could play one of our own.”

Erwin flushed. Levi climbed into his lap and kissed him.

A soft tongue pushed in, faintly cheese-flavored. Erwin couldn’t help but suck, wanting more.

His hands found Levi’s waist. The body in his lap straddled him fully.

Levi kissed like he meant to steal his breath. Erwin found a rhythm, teased Levi’s lower lip, moved to his neck.

When he reached the collarbone, Levi tilted back with a moan and ground down on the hard line of Erwin’s fly.

Their breathing drowned the TV.

A phone trilled—Levi’s. He curled his lip, fingers still tangled in Erwin’s buttons.

A second ringtone—Erwin’s.

“Fuck!!” Levi ripped his shirt open; buttons skittered across the floor.

“Shh,” Erwin murmured, rubbing his back. “Answer first.”

A few minutes later, both calls were done. They looked at each other.

They both knew the date was over for the night.

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

“I don’t actually buy for a second that you plan on clinging to me,” Zeke says, glancing at Levi in the passenger seat as he drives.

Levi snorts. “Suit yourself.”

His eyes stay on the window, offering no explanation.

“No matter.” Zeke shrugs. “I don’t care what your intentions are. I’ll take them either way.”

That finally makes Levi turn his head, though he still doesn’t answer.

“But I hope you won’t hurt Eren,” Zeke says suddenly. “He’s the only family I’ve got left in this world.”

“Why would I hurt him?” Levi raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know…” Zeke shakes his head. “I know you’re dangerous. Maybe that’s just who you are, the way you are with everyone. I don’t know… I just know I want to stay close to you, no matter what you’re planning.”

“Even if I plan to kill you?”

“You’ve said that a lot,” Zeke shrugs again. “If it’s not just some catchphrase… then you can kill me whenever. My doctor gave me a death sentence five years ago. I’m not as afraid of dying as you think.”

“Death sentence?”

Zeke nods. “Lung cancer. Haven’t checked it in years. Don’t know if it’s metastasized, but it doesn’t matter.”

Levi falls into silence for a long while before asking, “So that’s why you’re in this line of work?”

“…Not entirely. There’s also Eren.” Zeke glances at him. “Levi, have you ever had someone you’d give your life for?”

Levi frowns, impatient. “What’s your point?”

Zeke sighs. “Not long after I found out about the cancer, Eren shot and killed two men. Because they bullied his friend. He was only seventeen. Those two worked for Reiss.”

Levi’s eyes narrow slightly. He vaguely remembers Kenny once mentioning that some punk kid had taken out two of his men, and then—

“Reiss took Eren?”

Zeke nods.

“You cook meth for them to save your brother,” Levi concludes.

“I’m not that noble,” Zeke exhales. “It was mostly for me. I was already sick of my old life—the endless papers, the experiments. If I hadn’t been diagnosed, maybe I would’ve kept going, congratulating myself over tiny findings, debating theories that maybe a hundred people on earth cared about, pretending I was changing the world.”

“So you decided making 99.8% pure meth would change the world? Nice try.”

Zeke chuckles. “No one changes the world anymore, Levi. It’s rotten through. All I can do is give people a way to escape their misery for a while. And you’re right—my 99.8% pure meth does the trick.”

“Tch.” Levi looks back out the window. “That’s how you justify it?”

“And you?” Zeke studies him from the corner of his eye. “How do you justify killing for a cartel?”

“I don’t.” Levi taps the rifle in his hands. “I like killing. I enjoy it.”

“Learning to enjoy it because you’ve got no other choice, right?” Zeke smiles. “So, are you going to keep killing for me?”

“Who do you want dead?” Levi narrows his eyes. “Let me guess—Willy Tybur?”

“No, no, no…” Zeke shakes his head quickly. “You’re not a born killer. No one should force you into anything. You… really don’t have to be this way.”

Levi leans back against his seat, voice low. “Monkey, do you think you’re some kind of Casanova?”

Zeke sighs. “Levi, has no one ever given you another choice?”

Levi slowly closes his eyes. “Maybe once. But it didn’t last long.”

Zeke parts his lips, then lets the words die.

-

The so-called “company” the Yeager brothers ran was more of a “workshop.” A scatter of rough shacks in the southern Marleyan jungle, forming a makeshift village. Women from Mexico rinsed harvested coca leaves, others boiled them down into paste in giant iron pots—the first step in cocaine production, carried out under crude thatched roofs.

Zeke honks the car horn, then jerks his chin proudly at Levi. “Welcome to the Yeager family home.”

Levi lifts his rifle and gestures out the window. “Doesn’t look like your family’s too happy to see you.”

Armed guards emerge from the shadows, quickly training their guns on the car. Furious, Zeke rolls the window down and sticks his head out.

“I’m the fucking Zeke Yeager! Get Eren out here now!”

The guards trade whispers. One bolts toward a red-haired young man in the distance.

“Floch! You bastard, tell these idiots to lower their guns!” Zeke shouts.

“Zeke?” Floch stares in shock, then waves frantically at the others. “Drop your fucking guns! That’s Zeke Yeager! Eren’s brother! Are you blind?”

To be fair, the mistake isn’t hard to understand. Zeke and Eren look nothing alike. Zeke’s blond, blue-eyed. Eren’s black-haired, green-eyed, his long hair tied loosely back, a light grey tee hanging off his tattooed arms: Archangel Michael battling a dragon across his left, Lucifer tumbling into hell across his right.

The moment he sees Zeke, Eren bolts over. After an elaborate fist-bump routine, the brothers pull each other into a fierce hug.

“Zeke, I fucking thought you were dead!”

Zeke claps his back, then nods toward Levi stepping out of the car. “Thanks to Levi, I’m not.”

“Levi?!” Eren blurts, face lighting up.

Levi arches a brow, puzzled. Even Zeke looks thrown; he didn’t know the two had crossed paths.

“You might not know me, but I know you! You’re my idol! You’re a legend on the streets! Zeke, did you know? Levi once took on a dozen guys at two hundred pounds each and walked away untouched! Strongest fighter alive! I’d bet Delta Force and the KGB combined couldn’t lay a hand on him—”

Eren’s words tumble out, pulling every eye onto Levi.

“God…” Levi mutters. “Monkey, shut your damn brother up.”

Zeke laughs, patting Eren’s shoulder. “Alright, alright. Forget a dozen guys—he can wipe out an army, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But shut it, or he’ll level this whole place. Trust me, we don’t have enough men to make a snack for him.”

Levi shoots Zeke a glare sharp enough to kill.

“Really?!” Eren starts again, only for Zeke to clap a hand over his mouth.

Levi ignores them, strolling toward one of the thatched labs. People scatter fast, terrified of brushing against the so-called strongest man alive.

He points at a tray of freshly pressed, thumb-sized, brightly colored blocks and asks over his shoulder, “What the hell is this? Never seen coke look like that.”

Eren puffs his chest. “Our new product. One pound of paste makes over ten pounds of this baby, no drop in potency. Comes in flavors too—and more important, it’s cheap.”

“The profit on a Cadillac’s nothing compared to a Toyota,” Zeke says, bumping fists with him. “Corner the low-end market, corner the world. I’m proud of you, brother.”

“But…” Eren scratches his head. “I haven’t named it yet. Zeke, you’ve read a lot—help me out?”

Zeke lifts a block, turning it in his hand. After a moment he grins. “Let’s call it… ‘Crack’ cocaine.”

Levi, leaning on a post, rolls his eyes. “That’s the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t get it,” Zeke winks. “That kind of name sells. Street punks will eat it up.”

Sure enough, Eren’s eyes gleam. “Crack? Zeke, you’re a genius! That’s it!”

He spins to the crowd, raises his hand, and shouts:

“Listen up! The Yeager family’s new product—Crack! Now let’s crack the world together!”

The crowd explodes in cheers.

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin stood at the window with a complicated expression as Mike pulled up in Levi’s car and parked in front of his house.

“I don’t usually make a habit of delivering cars to my ex’s new fling,” Mike griped as soon as he stepped out. “What, were you two in such a hurry earlier you couldn’t even bother with separate rides?”

“Shut it,” Levi snapped, brushing past him. He slid into car, started the engine, and sped off without a glance back.

“Hey! How the hell am I supposed to get home?” Mike shouted at the retreating taillights. With no response, he turned to Erwin.

“Erwin, right? My bar’s close. How about a lift?”

“I’d like to help, but I really am in a hurry,” Erwin said as politely as he could.

“Christ, everyone’s in a goddamn hurry! Am I the only one with time to spare? I’ve got customers waiting!” Mike muttered, pulling out his phone.

Just then, a black SUV screeched to a halt. Hange leaned out the window.

“Erwin! Get in!”

Before Erwin could reply, they spotted Mike. Their eyes widened behind the lenses.

“Mike? What the hell are you doing here?”

Ignoring the question, Mike yanked the rear door open and climbed in. “Long story. But whatever crisis you’ve got going, you can at least drop me at a bus stop.”

“Of course!” Hange grinned as Erwin settled into the passenger seat. “Erwin, no need to rush this time. You two can tell me everything on the way! Since when do you know Mike? I could never get you to go bar-hopping with me!”

“Maybe it just depended on who was asking,” Mike snorted.

A mischievous gleam lit Hange’s eyes. “And who was asking this time?”

“Hange.” Erwin coughed. “Eyes on the road.”

“Yes, sir,” they said lightly, though their gaze kept darting to the two blond men in the rearview.

They tried again. “You know, you two should’ve met ages ago! Erwin, did you know Mike was a Marine? Served in the Gulf War, got a Medal of Honor. Now he runs a bar and half the Trost District listens to him more than their own sergeants. And Erwin—DEA Eldia’s top Special Agent, my boss, and my most trusted friend…”

“DEA?” Mike raised a brow. “Figures. With Levi around, I guess your situation’s complicated.”

“Levi??” Hange pounced on the word instantly.

“That’s enough, Hange,” Erwin cut in, frowning. “There’s the bus stop. Let him out here.”

Mike left reluctantly. Erwin met Hange’s burning gaze.

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Erwin said quietly.

-

They regrouped near a gas station on the edge of town, their cars hidden in a stand of wild oaks with binoculars trained on the fluorescent-lit diner.

Jean came over. “Sir, Zeke Yeager’s AmEx was used here twenty minutes ago. Three cheesesteaks, two large fries, two Diet Cokes. Probably Eren Yeager. He’s still inside.”

Erwin raised his binoculars. A dark-haired boy sat by the window, eating.

“No one approached him?”

Jean shook his head. “Alone the whole time. But he ordered enough for three.”

Hange chuckled. “Eren Yeager’s still a growing boy. Eating a lot is normal.”

“He hasn’t left your sight once?” Erwin pressed.

“He went to the restroom once. Back in under two minutes,” Sasha reported.

“He’s waiting for someone,” Jean muttered. “Bet it’s Zeke.”

“Sasha,” Erwin asked suddenly, “was his hair up or down before he went in?”

Sasha blinked. “Uh… I think down?”

“But it’s tied now.” Erwin’s hand clenched. “Hange, get me the vehicle records for the last hour.”

Minutes later, he’d picked out a grey Chevy pickup heading toward the empty borderlands.

“Sir, you sure Zeke’s in that truck?” Jean asked.

“I’m not sure,” Erwin said calmly. “But I know something bigger than dinner is happening tonight.”

The radio crackled with Hange’s voice. “Multiple vehicles closing in on the Chevy from both sides. Reiss men?”

A slow smile spread across Erwin’s lips. “Looks like our enemies are having a party. Hange, Jean, take it off-road. Stay out of sight.”

“Sir!”

They crept closer under cover of brush.

A gunshot rang—the Chevy’s tire burst, the truck rolling across the dirt. Gunfire erupted as over a dozen cars swarmed from both sides, blasting at each other.

“Find cover. Don’t engage,” Erwin ordered.

“Holy shit,” Jean muttered. “Tybur’s men too? Then Zeke’s really in there.”

Hange crouched low beside him. “Erwin, are we just gonna sit here? Sure, cartel shootouts are entertaining, but…”

Through his binoculars, Erwin froze. An hour ago this man had been on his lap. Now, with camo paint streaking his face, Levi crouched behind a pickup, rifle rising and falling with surgical calm—each shot dropping another man.

Erwin drew a slow breath. “Secure the perimeter. Don’t let any vehicles escape.”

Kenny shoved a bruised Zeke into a car and barked at Levi, “Kid, take the other one east, draw Tybur’s dogs off!”

Levi only grunted.

Two cars roared off in opposite directions. Erwin’s pulse surged. “Hange, Jean, after the red Dodge west! I’ll take the black Ford east. Sasha, Connie, hold here!”

“Yes, sir!”

He wasn’t sure which held Zeke. But his instincts said it wasn’t the Ford. Tybur’s men thought otherwise. Bullets riddled the car until it swerved, crashed into a boulder, and stopped.

Erwin braked, dove for cover, returned fire, and sprinted toward the wreck.

The mangled door creaked open. A figure rolled into the brush. A bullet hissed past Erwin’s head.

“Levi, it’s me!” he hissed.

“Erwin?” Levi’s voice was ragged. “You’re fucking prescient…”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not mine.” He smeared blood with the paint on his cheek. “Someone else’s. Did you get Zeke?”

“My team’s after him. Can’t say if they’ll catch him.”

“Not out here. Kenny’s car is modded. You won’t catch him tonight.” Levi’s eyes flickered. “Maybe you would have—if you’d gone yourself.”

Erwin pulled him close. “Finding you is enough.”

-

The gunfire died away. Lizards rustled in the grass. Levi sat on the hood of a car, eyes closed, letting him wipe grime from his face.

“Done.”

Levi opened his eyes. Stars filled the sky—Erwin’s face framed just beneath, smiling softly.

“Kenny must think you’re dead.”

Erwin smoothed back his hair. “You’re free, Levi. What do you want now?”

Levi slid his arms around him, resting his chin on Erwin’s chest. “I want you to kiss me.”

That was easy.

Erwin lowered his head and claimed his lips. This time, Erwin led. His tongue tangled and pulled the smaller one deeper.

A moan escaped Levi’s throat. His legs locked around Erwin’s waist, one hand gripping his chest, the other tangling in golden hair. Their lips parted, joined by a silver strand. Levi’s eyes glowed red as he whispered:

“And I want you to fuck me. Here.”

“Here?” Erwin’s voice roughened. “It’s filthy. You hate dirty.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to care. Just fuck me. Right here, right now, in this shithole.”

Erwin pressed a thumb to his lips. “Then stop swearing. It’s filthy enough.”

Levi panted, then murmured, “Okay~”

“Good boy.” Erwin kissed his forehead.

“Fuck!” Levi squirmed, face pressed against his chest. “You’re not my boss! I’ll curse if I want! Fuck! Shit! Damn it!”

Erwin grabbed his hair, forcing his face up. “I’m your boss now.”

Levi licked his lips, grinding against him. “You’re hard as a rock and still pretending? Sir?”

Erwin shifted him higher on the hood, pinning his hips. “Behave.”

“Fuck you!” Levi flopped back. “If you won’t fuck me, fine! I’ll go find Mike!”

Erwin’s brows furrowed. “Do you always go to him?”

Levi froze, silent.

“Tell me, Levi. Did you let him?”

“When you were pretending to be straight—yes,” he whispered.

“Oh, Levi…” Erwin stroked his hair. “You poor slut.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that,” Levi gasped, tears spilling.

Erwin kissed them away, then kissed his lips softly. “Sorry, babe. I’m sorry…”

He kissed down Levi’s neck, drawing shudders and moans.

Levi reached for his harness, but Erwin caught his hand. “Don’t move. I like this…”

“Pervert…” Levi’s breath hitched, his legs tightening around him, rubbing.

Erwin stepped back, then hauled Levi up, pressing him close. Their erections ground together through fabric.

“Mmm…” Levi moaned, muffled against his shoulder. “If you keep teasing… I’ll come in my pants…”

“Yeah?” Erwin pressed a hand against his groin. “You wouldn’t like that. You like being clean.”

Levi thrust into his hand, moaning. “…Fuck… cleanliness…”

Erwin chuckled, the sound vibrating through Levi. He unbuckled his belt. Levi lifted his hips, letting Erwin strip him bare.

His cock stood flushed and slick, more captivating than Erwin had imagined.

“Straight guy, do you know what to do?” Levi panted.

“What do you want me to do?”

Levi smirked, sucked his own fingers, then slid one inside himself, arching back. His hand clenched Erwin’s arm as he fingered himself right in front of him.

Erwin swallowed hard, pulled his wrist away. “Let me.”

“Mmm…” Levi nodded, then sucked on Erwin’s thick finger. The wet heat made Erwin shudder. He pulled free, dripping, and pushed the finger into Levi.

“Ah…” Levi collapsed against his shoulder, biting at fabric and skin.

Erwin worked him with one finger, then two, then three.

Levi panted into his shoulder, tried to touch himself, but Erwin stopped him. “Don’t. Be good. You don’t want to come so fast.”

“God…” Levi’s tears soaked his shirt. “Please… enough… Sir…”

“Okay.” Erwin pulled his fingers out, wiping them on his clothes.

Levi grabbed for his belt, freeing his length, then dropped to his knees, taking it into his mouth.

Erwin groaned raggedly, gripping his hair. He pulled out before he lost control. “Next time, babe… next time I’ll fuck your mouth…”

“Okay.” Levi licked his lips, spreading wider. “Then fuck me now. Sir.”

Erwin’s cock throbbed with agreement. He grabbed Levi’s knees, pulled him closer, and thrust inside.

They groaned together. Levi’s fingers curled against the hood.

Erwin set a deep rhythm, pounding again and again.

Levi threw his head back, moaning with every thrust. “God… fuck… Erwin… fuck me…”

Erwin kissed him hard, hips driving faster. When he struck a certain spot, Levi convulsed violently, legs trembling around his waist.

The tight muscles clamped down, making Erwin’s scalp prickle. He hammered that spot until Levi’s mouth fell open, eyes unfocused, pink tongue showing.

Levi convulsed, his untouched cock erupting between them, come spraying across his harness and chest.

The pulsing around Erwin dragged him over the edge. He rammed deeper, Levi sobbing incoherently, crying his name.

Erwin lifted him, still impaled, and thrust hard until he roared, spilling deep inside.

Levi’s body shook, his cock spurting weakly again against their stomachs.

The wilderness rang only with their ragged breathing.

After a long time, Levi tapped his shoulder weakly. “Sir, you can put me down now.”

Erwin lowered him onto the hood. Come trickled down his thighs.

Levi glanced at the mess, then at the car. “This isn’t your car, is it? Whose?”

“Ah…” Erwin looked away. “Hange’s.”

Levi buried his face against his chest, laughing softly.

“Poor Hange.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

“I’ve never stayed in a room this clean in my entire life!”

Eren stares at the spotless space, almost afraid to step inside for fear of soiling the gleaming wooden floorboards with his shoes. What unnerves him even more, though, is Levi—standing there, inspecting every corner with that dark, unforgiving expression. Floch and a few of his subordinates stand by with cleaning tools in hand, trembling under the scrutiny.

Levi stops at a table, slides a finger along the underside of the tabletop, then lifts it for inspection. His brow furrows.

“Oh, shit,” Zeke mutters, patting Eren’s back. “Looks like Floch’s sweeping again.”

“Why…” Eren mouths silently at Zeke, his voice dropping to a bitter whisper. “I didn’t even see any dust on his finger…”

Under Levi’s watchful eyes, Floch and his men immediately start re-cleaning the entire room.

Zeke slips out toward a corner where Levi can’t see him, lights a cigarette, and takes a deep drag.

Eren follows, lowering his voice. “Zeke—what’s your deal with Levi?”

“What deal?” Zeke inhales again, savoring the nicotine filling his lungs before reluctantly letting the smoke out.

“Don’t play dumb!” Eren crosses his arms, giving Zeke a suspicious look. “The way you stare at him—it’s creepy. And what’s with your wrists? Looks like you were tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Whose dinner were you serving yourself up for?”

A flush creeps across Zeke’s face. “None of your business.”

“Whatever. You’ve always been a pervert.” Eren snorts, then adds, “But I don’t think he’s into you. You’re just pining.”

“Why not?” Zeke flicks the ash away, bristling. “Why wouldn’t he be into me? Eren Yeager—is that how you talk about your own brother?”

“It’s not about you,” Eren says carefully. “He just… doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’d like anyone.”

“No?” Zeke stubs his cigarette out against a thick leaf. “But he’s with me now.”

Eren arches a brow. “What do you mean, ‘with you’?”

Zeke blinks, gives him a sly smile that says you know what I mean.

“Holy shit.” Eren takes a step back, eyes wide. “You’re… fuck buddies?”

Zeke glares, clearly displeased. “Fuck buddies? That’s your interpretation of ‘together’?”

“I’m combining my own observations with your one-sided claim,” Eren argues.

“You and your observations,” Zeke scoffs. “You never got above a C-minus in school, and now you’re the observant one?”

“Hey!” Eren punches Zeke’s arm. “I’m just showing concern! But seriously—don’t you think he’s dangerous?”

“Are you scared?”

“Not really.” Eren shrugs. “Since I shot those two bastards, my life’s been nothing but dangerous people. He’s not the scariest one.”

“Then don’t worry.” Zeke pats his shoulder. “Roll with it.”

-

Zeke always feels far from Levi, even when they’re pressed close. It’s like a mountain or an ocean lies between them. Even when Levi sleeps in his arms, when Zeke can smell the faint trace of his shower gel, he has no idea how long a march it would take to reach the heart of this man. Or maybe the end of that march is nothing but Mount Doom.

But… fuck it. I’m going to Mordor. As Frodo said: What comes after must come.

He draws Levi closer.

Levi doesn’t resist. He doesn’t even stir, just curls up smaller in his sleep, looking deceptively harmless. Zeke’s arm tightens around his waist; his chin rests atop Levi’s head. Their hips touch, pressed close. A perfect spoon.

The problem isn’t Mordor or Barad-dûr, though—it’s the Tower of Babel swelling in Zeke’s pants.

At first he tells himself it’s just morning wood.

But the heat keeps rising, and the feel of Levi’s skin beneath his fingertips makes control impossible. His hips move of their own accord against Levi’s body. His hand slips under the hem of Levi’s shirt, caressing, kneading. His lips murmur into the soft black hair: “Babe…”

The body in his arms stirs, makes a vague, sleepy sound—“Er…”—but doesn’t push him away.

Zeke’s pulse pounds. Shame and desire wrestle in him. But Levi doesn’t resist—he seems used to being touched like this. Under Zeke’s hands, Levi’s body responds, yielding, breath hitching raggedly though he still isn’t fully awake.

A wave of inexplicable pity rolls through Zeke. The danger and distance vanish; the aloof façade dissolves. Levi trembles in his embrace, small, needy, as if it doesn’t matter who’s behind him.

Zeke turns him over. Levi’s eyes open. At first unfocused, then sharpen, lock onto Zeke with such intensity it makes him flinch.

Zeke steadies himself, hoarse. “You can only fall asleep in a man’s arms… in my arms… right? Then you should’ve expected to wake up to this.”

For a second Zeke is sure Levi means to kill him. But then the fury recedes. Levi closes his eyes.

“Do what you want. But don’t kiss me. I don’t want to smell your fucking morning breath.”

“I don’t have morning breath!” Zeke protests. Then, hesitant: “Neck? Can I kiss your neck?”

“No. Your stubble’s out. It’s disgusting.”

“My stubble’s sexy, damn it! Tybur’s got stubble too. You disgust him?”

“Don’t mention Tybur.”

Zeke slips one arm around Levi’s shoulders, his other hand into Levi’s pants, gripping his erection.

“Why not? Are you thinking of him? Hm?” Zeke strokes slowly. “Babe? Love? Do you think about him when I fuck you?”

“Don’t… fucking call me that…” Levi gasps.

“Why?” Zeke thrusts against him, fingers kneading his ass. “Cookie? Sweetie? What would Tybur call you? Kitten?”

Levi’s teeth sink viciously into Zeke’s chest.

“Fuck—babe, you’ll bite a piece off—” Zeke yanks at his hair, prying his mouth away.

Levi’s grey eyes are misty, rimmed red, lips stained with blood.

“Christ. Are you a fucking vampire?”

Zeke smears his thumb across Levi’s lips, pushes it inside, past his teeth, pressing his tongue. Then he adds his index, middle finger.

Pain spikes up his arm as Levi clamps down. Zeke has to pry his jaw open to pull the blood-and-saliva-slick fingers free. He shakes them out helplessly.

“You’re like a feral cat,” he mutters.

Levi licks the blood from his lips, his eyes flashing. “All you need to do is shut the fuck up.”

“Okay, okay…” Zeke soothes, pulling him back into his chest, stroking his back. “Don’t be mad, babe…”

When Levi calms, Zeke shifts up against the headboard. One arm cradles Levi; the other reaches for the lube on the nightstand. He unscrews the cap, pours it into his palm.

Levi lies against his chest, letting the big hands knead his ass. When a finger slides inside, his whole body shivers, his grip tightens on Zeke’s shoulders.

Zeke works him slowly with his fingers, grinding their erections together. “Babe… you like that? God, you do. It’s like you don’t need air, don’t need water—you just need this. A big cock inside your tiny body… fuck, just thinking about it makes me harder…”

A pillow slams over his face, cutting him off.

Levi, panting, pulls Zeke’s fingers out of himself. “Monkey, I’m riding you.”

Zeke thrashes under the pillow, mouth finding a gap. “God—fuck, yes! Please… babe, ride me…”

Levi guides Zeke’s cock, lowering himself down slow. Their joined moans fill the room. His hand loosens; Zeke throws the pillow aside, gasping, seizing Levi by the waist and driving upward.

“God, babe—you’re perfect—I could fuck you all day—”

Levi clings to his chest, bouncing, his cock slapping wet against his abdomen, leaking pre-cum.

“Shut… the fuck… up—ahh—!” His head snaps back, breath catching in sharp, broken gasps. His walls seize, and Zeke slams harder into that spot.

“Babe—you close? I’m close too—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Their bodies convulse together. Orgasm crashes down like a torrential storm.

-

Even though Zeke calls himself a feminist, he can’t help the flicker of discomfort around Yelena—the towering woman over six-foot-three. Just a little, of course.

Yelena sits in the Yeager Family Home’s meeting room, eyes moving from Eren, to Zeke, then landing on Levi.

“What is he doing here?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to help the Yeager Family.”

“Is that so?” Levi’s smile is humorless. “What a coincidence. So am I.”

Yelena frowns, looking at Zeke. “Zeke, you know he’s with Tybur, right?”

“I know,” Zeke says simply.

“Wait… what?!” Eren’s eyes widen, flicking between them.

“Shh… relax, Eren,” Levi says. He turns back to Yelena. “You must have some news about Tybur. Why not share it? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s fine,” Zeke tells her, nodding. He pats Eren’s shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“Alright.” Yelena clears her throat. “There’s a used aircraft auction on Utobia Island in one week. Willy Tybur’s sister, Lara Tybur, will be there.”

“They’re buying planes?” Eren frowns. “For drug transport?”

Yelena nods. “Yes. Willy Tybur just struck a deal with the Colombian cartels. Tybur Group will handle their cocaine shipments. And before this, the Tybur Group already built nine airstrips here in Marley.”

“Fuck!” Eren slams the chairback. “Wasn’t that bastard supposed to be finished? How is his appetite still this huge?”

“If the Colombian deal goes through, he won’t be finished. It’s his last throw,” Zeke says, looking at Yelena. “So what’s your idea?”

“I don’t know.” Yelena smiles thinly, turns to Levi. “Levi, you know Tybur better than anyone. What do you think?”

“Lara’s Willy’s last card. If he’s putting her out, it means he’s desperate.” There’s a trace of pity in Levi’s voice. “The Colombians must be pressing him hard.” He looks at Eren. “Do you need airstrips?”

Eren blinks. “We’ve got a labor agency handling transport into the States… so no, not really.”

“Labor agency?” Levi prompts.

Eren nods. “The original owner was an exploiter. They sent Marleyan girls to the U.S. for menial jobs, skimmed eighty percent off their wages. Even with that cut, the girls still earned more than they would here, so they accepted it. Later, Zeke had me buy the company.”

Zeke picks up smoothly, smiling. “Now we give the girls one hundred percent of their wages, plus a hundred-dollar daily bonus.”

“And in return, they carry a little cocaine across the border on their way to work?” Levi asks.

“Yes.” Zeke grins, almost proud. “Nobody checks them. Nobody loses. It’s a positive-sum game, babe.”

“Tch.” Levi rolls his eyes at the pet name, then looks at Eren flatly.

“Let those girls rest. Kill Lara Tybur. Willy’s airstrips will be yours. And the Colombians’ big business will be yours too.”

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin wasn’t even fully awake before he felt something soft and furry nuzzling against his chest. A cool object traced lazily down his abdomen, lower and lower.

He opened his eyes and caught Levi’s hand. Meeting the other’s amused gaze, he sighed and released it, his own fingers rising to gently ruffle the short, dark hair.

“How are you awake so early?”

“I’ve been sleeping so much at your place these past few days,” Levi murmured, his voice still husky from rest. “Catching up on a lifetime of lost sleep. I think I’ve slept enough to last me years.”

Erwin caressed his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “You’ve done so much around the house too. This place hasn’t been this clean since my grandfather built it. And—” his hand moved to Levi’s collarbone, massaging a faint red mark there, “you were very tired last night. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep a little longer?”

Levi’s hand slid up Erwin’s chest, his hips grinding lazily against him. “You were tired last night too,” he said with a grin. “You don’t look tired now.”

Erwin’s lips curved. He pulled Levi closer by the back of his head and kissed him, his other hand gliding down to squeeze the curve of Levi’s hip.

“You’re going to make me never want to go to work again.”

Levi hooked one leg over his thigh, arm circling his waist. Between kisses, he managed, “It’s the weekend. You don’t have work anyway.”

Erwin flipped over, pinning Levi beneath him. He kissed his neck while spreading his legs, his fingers finding the entrance and easily slipping two digits inside, eliciting a squirm and a moan from the man below.

"Looks like you're already ready? Hmm? Did you start preparing yourself while I was asleep? Babe? With your little fingers?"

"Bastard." Levi lightly bit Erwin's shoulder, his voice fracturing as Erwin's fingers moved.

"You fucking… fucked me last night… hnn… did you forget?"

"Did I fuck you so hard your legs wouldn't stay closed? Hmm? Kept you open for me all night… Is that it?"

Erwin's voice grew increasingly hoarse.

"Fuck-" Levi panted helplessly in Erwin's embrace.

"Where the hell… did you learn this crap? Don't… don't torture me… Erwin… I want… I need you… fuck me…"

"Of course, babe, of course." Erwin lifted Levi's hips and thrust inside.

"Fuck—" Levi's head snapped back, his fingers scratching white lines across Erwin's back.

-

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, striping the bed in gold. Outside, in Erwin’s backyard, a pair of robins hopped across the low pine, pecking idly at cones, unbothered by the faint noise from inside.

“Hey, babe.” Erwin brushed the sweat-damp hair from Levi’s forehead, waiting for his unfocused eyes to clear. “You okay? Want to sleep a little more now?”

Levi glared at him, though the damp lashes and flushed cheeks made the look less than intimidating. “Does your salary not cover buying a few more condoms? I have to shower again.”

Erwin chuckled. “You were in such a hurry earlier, I didn’t have time to put one on.”

“God…” Levi covered his eyes with one hand, his voice dry. “I feel like an inflatable doll you’ve hidden away. Other than the lunatics on TV, I’m starting to forget what normal people even look like.”

“Oh, right—forgot to tell you.” Erwin smiled. “Two friends are coming over today. But don’t get your hopes up… they’re hardly what you’d call ‘normal’ either.”

-

During breakfast, Erwin noticed Levi seemed off. He’d been nibbling the same corner of bread for ten minutes, changed positions in his chair half a dozen times, and had reduced the bacon on his plate to a mess of crumbs with his knife.

Erwin couldn’t help but smile—it was oddly endearing. Like a cat uneasy before company.

“Are you nervous, kitten?”

Levi’s eyes widened; the bread nearly slipped from his hand. “What the hell did you just call me? I’m not nervous.”

“It just slipped out…” Erwin rubbed his nose, embarrassed. “Hange’s a good person. You’ll like them. Don’t worry.”

“Tsk.” Levi rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if I like them or not. Aren’t you afraid I’ll hate them and kick them out? I really might.”

“You won’t,” Erwin said, smiling. “They can be… eccentric. But I think once you get to know each other, you’ll get along fine.”

“What about the other one? You said two people were coming.”

“Uh…” Erwin stood, gathering plates. “The other doesn’t matter. You can kick him out anytime.”

-

Hange spotted Mike first, loitering awkwardly near the bushes outside Erwin’s door.

“Hey! Mike! Why haven’t you gone in?”

“I was waiting for you,” he grunted. “You’re the one who dragged me here. I’m not that close with Erwin—it’d be weird walking in alone.”

Hange laughed, patting his arm. “Alright, alright, we’ll go together. But aren’t you already familiar with that Levi guy?”

Mike grunted again, this time with a note of sarcasm. “Familiar doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

By the time they reached the door, Hange was already curious. “What do you mean? And why are you standing so far back? I’m knocking.”

“I’d better not say,” Mike warned. “Levi hits hard. Safer back here.”

Hange’s eyes widened. “He can beat you? You’re Mike!”

“He could probably take three Mikes,” Mike muttered.

“Holy shit.” Hange’s eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and nerves. “I’ve got to see if this Levi has three heads and six arms.”

They knocked. Footsteps approached after a brief pause.

Hange adjusted their shirt, ready to deliver their trademark exuberant greeting—

The door opened. Levi stood there, in a loose t-shirt and faded jeans, Converse on his feet, hair a little longer than Mike remembered. He looked smaller than expected, almost delicate.

Nowhere near the three-headed monster Hange had imagined.

Their grin froze mid-air. Levi’s gaze flicked to Mike; his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Mike opened his mouth, but Hange burst forward, bending slightly with both hands out.

“Oh my god! Are you Levi?! You’re so small—and cute!! Wait, are you even an adult? Erwin can’t be that kind of pervert, right? Can I pinch your cheeks??”

The door slammed in their face with a sharp thud, narrowly missing Hange’s nose. Mike burst out laughing beside them.

A few minutes later, Erwin himself opened the door.

As soon as Mike stepped inside, he sniffed the air and glanced toward the living room. Levi sat stiffly in a chair, glaring. Mike tried not to laugh, cleared his throat, and began, “So—”

“Shut up,” Levi snapped.

“Hey! I didn’t say anything!” Mike protested.

Levi shot Erwin a pointed look. “I didn’t know you were friends with this Leonberger. And this four-eyed aberration—” his glare shifted to Hange, who was still brimming with enthusiasm—“are you opening a circus here?”

“Hange!” they said brightly, thrusting out a hand. “I’m Hange, DEA Special Intelligence Research Specialist! So nice to finally meet you, Levi! Erwin’s told me so much!”

Erwin smiled, squeezing Levi’s tense shoulders. “Relax, kitten. Hange’s here to help. They brought your witness protection agreement. Once you sign, you’re officially separated from the Reiss family and Kenny Ackerman. You’ll be a free U.S. citizen under federal protection.”

“Provided you take down the Reiss family first,” Levi said flatly, taking the papers from Hange and flipping through them.

“We will,” Erwin promised, voice soft. “As for Mike—he saw you with me that night. Even though Kenny thinks you’re dead, we have to make sure no word slips out. We can’t risk suspicion.”

He turned to Mike, expression serious. “So, Mike. Can I trust you?”

Mike shrugged. “My brother died of an overdose. You don’t have to trust me—but you can trust my hatred for cartels.”

Erwin’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry about your brother.” He extended a hand. “Thank you, Mike.”

“Wow!” Hange exclaimed, clapping. “A historic moment! Eldia’s two most charming blondes finally shake hands! Levi, do you have anything to drink? We should celebrate!”

Levi rolled his eyes. “It’s his house, not mine.”

“It’s your house now too,” Erwin said, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Kitten.”

“Awwwww,” Hange squealed, clutching Mike’s arm. “Mike, look! They’re so sweet!”

Mike answered with a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

When Levi reappeared with a plate of cookies—neatly arranged, dotted with bright candy sprinkles—Hange’s eyes went wide with delight. Mike’s jaw nearly dropped.

“You made these?” he asked.

“Who else.” Levi sat down beside Erwin, arms crossed, watching Hange devour the cookies and scatter crumbs everywhere.

Mike picked one up, inspecting it. “Are you sure you didn’t put anything weird in them? I just can’t imagine you baking.”

Levi snorted. “I learned from Martha Stewart. If you get sick, go find that noisy old lady in the TV and complain to her.”

“Super delicious!!” Hange mumbled around a mouthful.

Levi’s chin lifted slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile on his face. Erwin leaned back in his chair, hand resting on Levi’s shoulder, sipping his wine.

“Mike, why so quiet?” Hange asked suddenly, wiping crumbs from their fingers. “You can talk to anyone about anything in the Titan Bar!”

Mike took a slow sip of wine. “If they were a stranger, maybe.”

Hange frowned, confused, then shrugged it off. “Forget it! Let me reintroduce our Mike to Erwin!” They clapped Mike’s shoulder. “Eldia’s most famous Casanova! The number of people—men and women—he’s enlightened is uncountable. I even told the city council to make him a tourist attraction! Mike, tell us one of your stories!”

Mike rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “That’s… not really appropriate.”

“Why not? It’s perfect for breaking the ice! Come on!”

“Hange,” Erwin said gently, “if Mike doesn’t want to—”

“No, no, he has to!” Hange grinned, shaking his arm. “You’ve told me plenty! Tell them your most interesting partner!”

Mike hesitated, meeting Levi’s glare for half a second before looking away. “…She was… a woman… over six foot three.”

“Really?” Hange frowned. “But that giantess wasn’t that interesting. I remember you said you slept with a little—”

Mike clamped a hand over Hange’s mouth before they could finish.

The room fell silent.

Hange froze, eyes flicking between Erwin’s dark expression and Levi’s even darker one. Realization dawned.

Levi stood abruptly, face flushed. Without a word, he turned and stalked back toward the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls trembled.

“Fucking Special Intelligence Research Specialist!”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zeke hangs up Eren’s call from Utapad Island and walks into the living room. Yelena and Levi sit on opposite sides of the table, sipping tea.

The scene yanks up a childhood memory—Jack and the Beanstalk. Yelena is the giant; Levi… Levi is Zeke’s magic bean.

Magic bean, magic bean… so cute… Zeke chants in his head as he joins them, clears his throat, and delivers Eren’s update.

“Eren planted trackers on all the planes Lara Tybur bought. When those planes fly back to Marley loaded with Colombian coke, it’s time for us to launch the ‘Rumbling.’”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Another classic from the Yeagers’ Dictionary of Stupid Names.”

“Controlling Tybur’s nine runways and eighty tons of coke in one stroke—the whole of Marley will rumble. Hence, the Rumbling. Babe~” Zeke’s pleased with himself; Levi rewards him with another eye-roll.

“Excellent,” Yelena says, lifting their cup. “The Yeager Brothers’ era arrives.”

Zeke grabs Levi’s teacup, clinks it against Yelena’s, and downs the last sip. Levi glares and fetches himself a fresh cup.

Zeke stretches, drapes an arm along the back of Levi’s chair, and looks to Yelena. “So what’s Willy Tybur busy with lately?”

“The election. His Conservative allies are in trouble,” Yelena says. “Times are changing. Marley is privatizing everything. Educated city dwellers are done handing their fate to fossils. Once Tybur loses their protection, he’s in for a world of hurt.”

“What can he do?”

“He wants to rig the polling,” Yelena replies. “City numbers drop first. If those lean Conservative, the rural vote follows—farmers don’t like wasting a ballot on a loser.”

“Guide the herd with a nudge. Sounds familiar.” Zeke grins. “How do they plan to alter the city count?”

“The capital rolled out new polling machines this year. Willy found a technician to tamper with them.” A thin smile. “His name’s Onyankopon—and he has certain… private connections with me.”

“Swapping a few ballots is the civilized, predictable trick…” Levi finally cuts in. “In a place where you run into three dealers buying cigarettes, Willy’s got more than one method. What about their opponent?”

“The opposition candidate is a farm girl from western Marley—Krista Lenz. Harvard grad. Every rally she gives in the capital roars loud enough to carry to the northern border. Inspiring. I’d vote for her too.”

“As a feminist sick to death of old zombies, I’d probably vote for her as well…” Zeke frowns. “But she doesn’t sound like someone who’d ever be our ally.”

“Who knows?” Yelena shrugs. “For now, we share an enemy.”

After Zeke sees Yelena out, he wraps Levi from behind, nose in his neck, hips nudging.

“Get off me, you stinking monkey. Horny in broad daylight?”

“I can be horny for you twenty-four seven,” Zeke murmurs, licking at Levi’s neck.

Levi shoves him off. “I’m not your 24/7 on-call toy.”

“Fine…” Zeke forces his breathing to even out, willing the half-hard to subside. Levi sits by the window doing nothing; an idea sparks.

“Hey, want to go out?”

Levi flicks him a glance. “Where?”

“There’s a town close by. You’ve been in Marley this long and never visited. I’ll take you.”

“Oh? You’re taking me shopping?” Levi sounds singularly unimpressed.

“Actually…” Zeke scratches his head. “I grew up there.”

“But Eren grew up in Eldia?”

“Yeah.” Zeke nods. “Our father had a family in both Marley and Eldia. I only moved in with Eren after he died. I spent over ten years here.”

“Your father sounds like an asshole.”

“He was. No question.” Grisha’s name still pinches something in Zeke’s chest. “He visited my mother and me in Marley—sometimes weeks, sometimes months… When she was hospitalized, he came once. For the funeral.”

Levi parts his lips, then simply says, “You and Eren get along, though.”

“That’s on Grisha, not Eren.” Zeke exhales, studying Levi. “Grisha was a doctor. Money was fine; we had a nice house, driver, nanny. I barely went into town those years—wasn’t allowed to play with poor kids. Anyway… whatever pain he caused me is nothing like what Kenny did to you. I’ve got no right to dig for your sympathy.”

“No one’s pain is small.” Levi’s mouth quirks. He stands. “Let’s go. Monkey, show me the town you missed for a decade.”

-

The town is small: one main street, low indigenous-style houses and little shops. Barefoot kids sprint in packs. The air is fried oil and sharp chiles. If not for the armed men patrolling, it would be any town anywhere.

Zeke slows the car, easing through the crowd.

“Those men yours?” Levi watches, wary.

“Yeah. Relax, babe. This whole area’s ours.”

“Looks like control to me.”

“No, no,” Zeke says, smiling. “Liberation.”

Two kids—one boy, one girl—dart across the hood. Zeke rolls down the window. “Gabi! Falco!”

They stop, stare. “Zeke?!”

Zeke brakes, leans halfway out. “Falco, open up—let me see.”

Falco obeys, flashes braces.

“Haha—nice, nice! Bet you’ve got a new nickname.” He turns to the dark-haired girl. “Gabi, how’s your aunt?”

“Much better! She can tug Reiner’s ears and yell again! When are you coming for dinner? She talks about you all the time, Zeke~”

“I miss her corn cakes too. I’ll come by in a few days!”

He waves them off and turns back to find Levi watching him.

“So,” Levi says, brow faintly drawn, “you’re playing returning hero to make up for childhood.”

“They need this,” Zeke says. “Used to be all corn here. That barely covers braces… Coke isn’t a good thing, but I gave them a better life.”

“Under guns,” Levi says, rolling his eyes.

“For their safety,” Zeke shrugs.

A car screeches to a halt in front; a sweating man with a rifle rushes up. “Zeke! Strangers at the camp. Floch sent me.”

“Who are they?”

“Don’t know. They asked for Zeke Yeager by name.”

“Shit.” Zeke grimaces, glancing at Levi. “Date’s over.”

—

Back at the Yeager camp, every rifle points at a jeep at the gate. Floch stands with a cluster of men facing several visitors whose backs are to Zeke.

The figure in front turns as Zeke’s car rolls up.

“Fuck!” Zeke slams the brake. “Rod Reiss? I thought he was dead.”

“Anything’s possible until you see the body,” Levi says evenly. “At least Kenny is dead.”

Rod smiles as Zeke and Levi get out. “Dr. Yeager. Long time. Levi… didn’t expect you here.”

“I didn’t expect you here,” Zeke says before Levi can.

“Well,” Rod says, “now I know how you slipped the net when my men raided Tybur’s jungle lab. You had Levi.”

“So it was you,” Zeke says, rolling his eyes. “Near enough to a whole army. I assumed Marley’s military.”

“You could call it that,” Rod answers, glancing around the camp. “Decent place. Better if we talked in a cool room instead of roasting out here.”

“Reiss scum, in our camp? Dream on,” Floch growls, gun rising.

“Floch.” Zeke flicks a hand. “Lower it. If Mr. Reiss came in person, he isn’t here to be turned into Swiss cheese—not before we hear him out.”

Inside, Rod loosens his collar and plants himself under the AC vent. “Marley’s weather is unkind to fat men.”

“So what brings a fat man to me in this heat?” Zeke crosses his arms.

Rod produces a folded paper from his inner pocket and hands it over. “The opposition candidate—Krista Lenz—is my biological daughter.”

Zeke stares at the campaign poster of a blonde woman, eyes widening. “You old bastard—are you dreaming?”

“I made the same mistake your father did,” Rod says softly, also looking at the poster. “Her real name is Historia Reiss. Like you, she grew up in Marley. She loves this land.”

“What the fuck…” Zeke breathes.

“So you’re here to ask our help getting your daughter elected?” Levi asks from the side.

“Yes.” Rod smiles. “On this soil there are no permanent enemies, only permanent interests. Levi, I think you understand that better than anyone here.”

“Tsk.” Levi rolls his eyes.

“If Reiss and Yeager join hands, Tybur—and those Conservative fossils who should’ve been buried long ago—end up in the grave together.”

“Rod,” Zeke snorts, “don’t forget you’re a fossil too.”

Rod gives a dry chuckle. “I know. The new era belongs to you. I just want to clear the way for my daughter.”

“How do I know she won’t dump us like worn-out mules the second she’s President? A neat ‘historic achievement’ to kick off her term.”

“You know perfectly well her presidency favors you more than Tybur’s reign,” Rod says with a shrug. “And you’re already moving against Tybur.”

“That’s true.” Zeke drops onto the sofa and jerks his chin. “Fine. Let’s hear what an old fossil brings to the table.”

—

Zeke leans against the bathroom door. The second it opens he pins Levi to the wall, lowers his head, breathes in the clean scent of damp black hair, his nose bumping Levi’s forehead. “You shower three times a day. Why does it still take so long? I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Move. I need to dry my hair.” Levi knees him lightly in the thigh.

“Ah…” Zeke taps the wall in frustration. “I really can’t wait.”

“Then get out of the way unless you want a beating,” Levi says, rolling his eyes. “Disgusting, horny monkey.”

Zeke lets him go. “Let me dry it for you?”

“No.”

Zeke stamps a foot like a sulky kid. “I just want to help. If you won’t let me, I’ll go tell Floch how you’re tormenting me. In case you haven’t noticed—I’m still hard.”

“If you want your men to see you desperate and horny, be my guest.” Levi lifts the dryer and starts anyway.

Zeke circles, finds no opening, and groans.

“By the way, monkey.” Halfway dry, Levi lowers the dryer. “Are you really teaming with Reiss? You believe that fossil?”

“Not really.” Zeke slips behind him, big hands settling on his shoulders. “We can test him. I’m not afraid.”

“You’ve got nerve,” Levi mutters.

Zeke’s fingers trail to Levi’s neck, stroking gently; his other hand snatches the dryer and tosses it aside. “My nerve is even bigger right now…” His palm slides inside Levi’s loose sleep shirt, pressing on the shoulder scar. “I’m going to kill Willy Tybur. Will you be upset?”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Levi asks suddenly.

“Uh…” Zeke pauses. “Yes. You saw it. Kenny—your uncle…” His hips press close; one arm cinches Levi’s waist; the other drifts lower.

“Anyone besides Kenny?” Levi braces his hands on the table.

“Now’s not the time,” Zeke mutters, fingers finding what they want.

“Tell me… tell me about it?” Levi’s breath starts to catch.

“Don’t do this, babe. I don’t want to talk about it while I’m fucking you…”

Levi closes his eyes, folds over the table, and goes quiet.

Zeke pours some lube into his palm, rubs it, use one hand to hold Levi's buttocks, and probes with his index finger, pushing it inside.

Levi, lying on the table, trembles lightly, his face leaving a damp mark on the wooden surface. When three fingers could move in and out freely, Zeke pulls them out, wipes them, hold his hard cock, and presses it against the wet entrance.

"Wait…" Levi suddenly says. "You fucking put a condom on…"

Zeke is taken aback. "But you've let me come inside you before…"

"I never fucking allowed it!"

"Okay, okay, babe, don't be angry…"

Zeke fumbles in the drawer, finds a condom, hurriedly tears it open, rolls it on himself, and then, without any pause, pushes inside.

Levi shudders on the table, a choked moan catching in his throat. After thrusting for a while, Zeke reaches out and lifts Levi's upper body, only then noticing the damp patch on the table.

He lifts Levi’s chin and turns his face toward him; the grey eyes are red and wet. “God… babe… are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

“No… no…” Levi shuts his eyes. “Just keep going… stupid monkey…”

Zeke kisses his hair and cheek at random, breath ragged. "Babe… before me… no one ever come inside you? God… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… Not even Tybur, right? God… I was the first…"

Zeke lifts Levi entirely, pressing him down heavily onto his cock again and again. With his movements, the person in his arms trembled helplessly in the air, limbs shaking like a rag doll losing its support.

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Erwin pushed open the bathroom door and found Levi through the steam—leaning against the tiled wall, two fingers buried inside himself, clearly trying to work out what Erwin had left there.

“Piss off,” Levi snapped, glaring over his shoulder.

Erwin walked over, turned him around, and pulled him close, catching the smaller hand and gently easing the fingers out. “Babe, let me handle it.”

Levi bit into his chest and muttered, “Bastard…” but his arms still wound around Erwin’s waist.

Erwin’s broad palm slid down to the reddened curve of Levi’s backside. Two fingers slipped in again.

“Fuck!” Levi shuddered against him. “You—are you fucking done yet?”

Erwin worked his fingers slowly in the soft, slick heat, his erection pressing insistently against Levi’s stomach. “Kitten, one more time, yeah?”

Under those practiced hands, Levi could barely string words together, his own poor cock hardening again despite himself. “Fuck… fuck you… Erwin…”

Erwin withdrew his fingers, cupped the well-handled backside, and lifted Levi, pressing him against the bathroom wall and sheathing himself inside in one smooth motion.

-

Later, Levi slumped in a chair, frowning as Erwin blow-dried his hair. “Did Mike flip some kind of pervert switch in you? You went from a shy straight guy to a horny beast on a permanent leash.”

Erwin’s fingers massaged his scalp gently. “Don’t be mad, kitten~ It’s not that I blame you about Mike. I blame myself for not realizing my feelings sooner. I missed so much time with you.”

“And now you make up for it by fucking me senseless? Great plan, wild boy. I’ve been fucked more in the last two days than all my hookups with Mike combined. He was just a fuck buddy, got it? A fuck buddy! I haven’t even yelled at you properly about Marie yet—those were actual dates!”

Erwin set the dryer aside, hands resting on Levi’s shoulders as he leaned close to his ear. “But you enjoyed it too, didn’t you, kitten?”

“Yeah…” Levi rolled his eyes. “But I’m not enjoying these jelly legs from overuse. You wanted me to train your rookies, right? Not sure I’ll be intimidating like this.”

“Oh, Levi, I’m sure you’ll manage.”

-

“You’re really having them play with your kitten? Did you have to run background checks on their entire bloodline?” Hange asked, watching Jean, Connie, and Sasha on the training field. “These kids have been with us forever. Don’t you trust them?”

“Pixis wanted Levi to give a press interview,” Erwin said, still watching the field. “That’s basically telling Kenny he’s alive. Until the Reiss family falls, I don’t want him taking any risks.”

“He’s got over a dozen kills,” Hange reminded him. “Pixis just wants him to prove he’s broken ties with the cartel. Hiding him forever isn’t a long-term plan.”

“And letting Kenny come hunting is a plan?”

“We have witness protection—”

“And moles, Hange.”

“Fine.” They sighed. “But Pixis could revoke his immunity anytime. I hope your little wildcat’s claws are really retracted.” They grinned again, turning back to the field. “Let’s see how he treats these poor cat toys.”

-

Jean, Connie, and Sasha stared at the man standing before them. With black hair falling over his eyes, a plain white tee, gray sweatpants, and canvas sneakers, barely over five feet tall, he looked more like… a middle-schooler. This was who Erwin had sent to train them?

Jean finally stepped forward. “Hey. Kid. You even legal?”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Kid?”

Up in the observation room, Erwin couldn’t suppress a faint smile. Beside him, Hange rubbed their hands together, eyes gleaming. “You’re so twisted, Erwin! Our Jean-boy’s about to get wrecked, isn’t he? Five rounds? Three?” Erwin smiled but said nothing.

Down below, Jean jutted his chin out. “Then what should I call you? Princess? Cutie? Litt—”

Jean didn’t finish; he was already airborne.

“Holy shit!” “What the fuck?!” Sasha and Connie stumbled back in unison, stunned.

Erwin shrugged at Hange, whose jaw had dropped. “He went easy on him.”

Jean groaned, trying to get up. Levi jerked his chin toward him. “Come on, horse-face. The DEA can’t lose to a kid, can it?”

Jean squared his shoulders, fists tight, and swung. Levi sidestepped, grabbed his elbow, and flipped him clean over his hip. Jean hit the mat flat on his back.

Hange let out an excited whoop. “Now I finally believe Mike—he said Levi could take three of him!”

Erwin frowned. “He fought Mike?”

Hange rolled their eyes. “You jealous?”

Back in the training room, Jean still hadn’t stood up. Levi curled his lip and turned to Connie. “You, baldy. Your turn.”

-

As the training room filled with the sound of pained yelps, Hange cracked open a can of soda, took a long sip, and grinned. “Erwin, you’ve been hiding a weapon of mass destruction at home. Clinton should’ve sent the UN inspectors to your place instead of Iraq.”

“He’s not dangerous,” Erwin said quietly, eyes never leaving the field. “If he wanted, Jean’s bones would be dust right now. He didn’t hurt them—he’s teaching them. These kids have only ever fought training dummies and paper targets. He grew up on the streets. For him, fighting meant survival. You can’t blame him for that.” He exhaled softly. “It’s no surprise they lost. They’ve never had to fight to stay alive.”

“Uh… sorry, Erwin, I was just joking,” Hange said quickly, setting the can down.

“I know.” Erwin dropped his gaze, voice low. “I know, Hange. It’s fine. I overreacted. I just need you to understand—Levi isn’t a bad person.”

“Yeah,” Hange said, patting his shoulder. “I get it now.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zeke looks up at the restaurant’s name — Paraíso — and lets out a quiet laugh. A good name, he thinks. Maybe a warning. But he’s certain no one stepping into this place tonight deserves heaven.

At this hour, the restaurant should be packed. Instead, it’s deserted. Zeke can’t remember the last time he set foot in somewhere this upscale. He walks past tables dressed in white linen, under the watchful gaze of hidden guards, and approaches the man sitting alone at the center.

From a record player in the corner, a low male voice sings a Spanish tune. Zeke catches only the refrain, repeated again and again:

“Tuyo será, y tuyo será.”

It will be yours, and it will be yours.

He pulls out the chair opposite Willy Tybur and sits down. “Long time no see, Mr. Tybur.”

“Dr. Yeager.”

Willy Tybur still wears his three-piece suit like armor, golden hair slicked perfectly back — yet he looks older, somehow dimmed.

“Can I get you something?” Willy asks lightly. “They have a Château Cheval Blanc ’86, or Burgundy, perhaps? Or you could try what I’m—”

“No,” Zeke cuts in. “I only drink tea now.”

Willy raises an eyebrow, then nods. “Understood.”

“So,” Zeke says, “what brings you to me tonight?”

“I’ve heard Dr. Yeager’s ventures in Marley are flourishing,” Willy says. “Given our past cooperation, I thought I’d share something useful.”

“Oh?” Zeke’s tone is skeptical. “Go on.”

“The opposition candidate, Historia Reiss, is Rod Reiss’s daughter. You probably already know that.”

Zeke nods once.

“But the campaign presents her as a simple farm girl. Her team’s pushing for a trade agreement between Marley and the U.S.—corn, chili peppers, avocados. You see what I’m implying.”

Zeke laughs quietly. “No one writes cocaine into trade deals. It’s just PR strategy. Tybur, what are you really trying to say?”

“It seems Rod has already approached you,” Willy sighs. “You must know how little time he’s actually spent with this daughter of his. I understand you despise those greedy fossils in the Conservative Party… but remember, the ones who can be bought are the easiest to control.”

“Oh, I don’t trust Rod,” Zeke says, smiling faintly. “But I trust you even less, Mr. Tybur. I’ve seen what happens to your partners. Whether I deal with Reiss or not, I won’t work with you again.” His eyes narrow. “By the way, aren’t you curious where Levi is?”

Willy blinks. “Levi?”

“You’ve forgotten him? Your little wildcat — your soldier, your machine?” Zeke watches him closely.

“So he’s with you now?” Willy shrugs. “He was never mine. And I doubt he’ll ever be yours, either, Zeke. You should worry about yourself.” He taps his wine glass.

Nothing happens. The silence thickens. The shadows where his bodyguards once stood are now empty.

Zeke smirks. “Looks like your men aren’t as loyal as you thought.”

Willy’s face tightens. He stands sharply. “Calvi?! Where are you—”

A calm voice behind him says, “Willy. Sit down.”

Willy obeys, slowly lowering himself back into the chair. Levi stands behind him, gun pressed to the back of his head, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Calvi’s in paradise now.”

Zeke grins. “Babe, perfect timing.”

Willy exhales, his expression oddly serene. “Zeke,” he says, “you’ll regret this.”

“I doubt that,” Zeke replies. “If anything, you should regret inviting me here. I was wondering how to find you.”

Willy gives a faint, bitter smile. “I didn’t expect you to be this fond of him…” He turns his head slightly toward Levi. “No wonder. Who wouldn’t be drawn to you? Otherwise, I’d never have saved you back then.”

Zeke frowns but says nothing.

Levi’s mouth curls in a cold smirk. He tosses his gun aside.

“Levi, what are you doing?” Zeke asks, confused.

“Shut up, you stinking ape,” Levi mutters — then swings a leg over Willy Tybur’s lap.

Zeke freezes, pulse hammering. Levi’s hand drifts up to Tybur’s face.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be full of bullet holes by now. You saved me once,” Levi says quietly. One of his hands slides inside Willy’s suit jacket.

“So you remember,” Willy says softly.

“Of course.” Levi pulls out a small pistol, twirling it by the trigger guard. “Still the one with your name engraved? You used this to shoot me once, remember?”

Willy nods.

“There are too many debts between us,” Levi murmurs. “You shot me, hunted me, saved me, used me, humiliated me. You even had me fight a tiger for your little cocktail crowd…” He spins the gun once and catches it again. “Tell me, Willy — what did that tiger ever do wrong?”

Tybur opens his mouth, but Levi shoves the barrel into it. His body goes still, arms slack. Levi strokes his golden hair.

“The reason I worked for you,” he whispers, “killed for you… let you use me… wasn’t because you saved me. It was because you reminded me of someone.”

Tybur swallows. Levi hushes him with a soft pat. “But you don’t look like him anymore.”

He kisses Tybur’s forehead and pulls the trigger.

The gunshot cracks the air.

“Fuck!!” Zeke jolts up from his chair.

Levi turns his head toward him, a few drops of blood scattered across his face. “What?”

A chill runs down Zeke’s spine. “I… I didn’t tell you to… kill him…”

Levi stands, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth. His voice carries a faint edge of grievance. “Didn’t you say you were going to kill him? I just did it for you.”

“I… we still needed him… to control his sister…”

Levi grabs a fistful of Willy’s hair, lifting the bleeding head for Zeke to see. “Well, he’s dead now. See? His brains are leaking out. Got any miracle potion to fix that?”

“Don’t… don’t be like this…” Zeke stammers. “Levi… you’re scaring me.”

Levi tilts his head, smiling faintly as he steps closer. “This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me kill someone. Why scared now? You know Eren can handle Lara. So tell me, Zeke—what are you really afraid of?”

Zeke sinks back into his chair as Levi climbs onto the table edge, one boot on the table, the other pressed against Zeke’s crotch. He looks down at him lazily.

“You’re so timid,” he says. “Makes me wonder if you’ve ever killed anyone at all. Kenny doesn’t count. He was already half-dead.”

“Babe… don’t…” Zeke pants, voice trembling.

Levi’s boot grinds down hard. Zeke lets out a sharp cry of pain.

“Have you killed anyone?”

“Y-yes…” Zeke shuts his eyes.

“Oh?” Levi eases the pressure. “What was he like?”

“White… male…”

“Details.” The weight returns, heavier.

“Blond, blue eyes… tall, taller than me…”

Levi says nothing for a long time. Zeke opens his eyes and sees him staring down, dark hair shadowing his face.

“Babe…”

Levi suddenly glares at him. “Keep going.”

Zeke coughs through the pain. “He was young… my age… handsome, the kind people notice. I shot him in the chest. He looked shocked… like he couldn’t believe it… tried to stop the bleeding… His eyes—his blue eyes—went pale so fast… he looked like he didn’t want to die… probably had someone waiting for him… He fell… shook for a while… then stopped. His eyes stayed open.”

Levi’s gaze goes distant. His fingers trace his lips, smearing the drying blood. “If you had another chance,” he asks quietly, “would you still kill him?”

Zeke takes off his fogged glasses and sets them aside. “Yes.”

A slow, cold smile spreads across Levi’s mouth.

Zeke exhales. “I couldn’t let him catch me. I had to get Eren to Marley. Otherwise, Eren would’ve died. I had no choice.”

Levi’s laugh is soft, almost soundless. His boot presses against Zeke again — unevenly, tauntingly.

“Don’t, babe… It hurts…” Zeke winces.

“Don’t you like this?” Levi’s eyes glint red at the corners. “You get hard when I step on you. What’s wrong now? Tybur’s corpse killed your mood?”

“Not here… not now…”

“Why not?” Levi lightens the pressure, dragging the tip of his boot against Zeke's erection.

Zeke hissed through his teeth, watching his traitorous cock gradually harden, rough gasps escaping his throat. Levi pulled his boot back and stood up. His fingers moved from his own chin to his chest, and he began undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The sudden emptiness caught Zeke's moan in his throat. He watched Levi undressing, asking uncertainly, "Babe, you really want to do it here?"

"Yeah," Levi tossed his shirt aside and jerked his chin at Zeke. "Take your pants off."

Zeke stood up, pushed his pants down to his knees, and looked down in embarrassment at his flushed, shamelessly erect cock. Then Levi pushed him back into the chair.

Levi held his shoulders and straddled his knees. Zeke hesitantly reached out to hold his waist. Levi wrapped his arms around Zeke's neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him.

Zeke's eyes widened in shock. His whole body stiffened, his heart pounding violently. He felt that small, agile tongue pry his lips apart, curl around his own tongue, bringing a taste of cool mint tea… and the terrifying metallic tang of blood.

A tingling heat instantly rose in his lower belly. His trapped cock twitched, leaking pre-cum.

Levi released Zeke's tongue, bit his lower lip, ground his body against Zeke's, and squeezed out a harsh command: "Finger me. You fucking monkey!"

Zeke, as if waking from a dream, came to his senses. He held Levi, moved his hand to his ass, and slowly pushed a finger inside.

The passage was dry and tight. Zeke worked his finger in and out with difficulty, listening to the other's pained moans against his shoulder.

"That person…" Levi suddenly asked. "The one you killed… What color were his eyes?"

Zeke froze, his finger stopping. Levi immediately clamped a hand around Zeke's neck and squeezed. "Keep going. And answer me."

"Blue… I already said…" Zeke resumed the movement of his finger, stammering, worried it wasn't enough, and added, "Sky blue… like the color the sky often is in Eldia…"

Levi's head dropped onto Zeke's shoulder, soft moans beginning to escape him.

Zeke felt the resistance around his fingers gradually lessen. He added a second finger. The spot on his shoulder where Levi rubbed against felt wet and sticky—whether from blood, saliva, or something else, he didn't know…

Zeke kissed his hair, murmuring, "Babe… Your kinks are even weirder than mine… Maybe we really are a match made in heaven…"

Levi's head moved to Zeke's neck, his teeth grazing his throat. "Don't talk nonsense, or I'll bite your throat out."

"O-okay…" Zeke swallowed, pulled his fingers out, gripped Levi's waist with one hand, lifted him slightly, held his own hard cock, and pressed the man in his arms down onto it.

"Ngh—ah!" Levi's sharp teeth scraped Zeke's neck as he buried his face in Zeke's chest.

"Babe, are you okay?" Zeke hurriedly cupped his face, seeing a pair of reddened, wet eyes. "...Did I hurt you?"

"No…" Levi shook off Zeke's hand and buried his face back in his chest. He braced his hands on Zeke's arms and began to move on his own.

"God… You're so tight… babe…" Zeke couldn't help but let out pained, pleasured gasps. He gripped Levi's waist and began lifting him, thrusting up into him.

Levi’s voice cuts through the silence, low and rough. “Didn’t you say I was like a feral cat? Then say it.”

“Kitten?” Zeke breathes. “Yeah… Kitten… my baby kitten…”

Levi's hands immediately let go of Zeke's arms. He collapsed completely against Zeke's chest, trembling uncontrollably. His inner walls clenched violently, squeezing Zeke so hard he almost came.

"You like that… God… You really… you really… kitten…" Zeke gripped his body tightly, slamming him down onto his cock again and again.

Levi threw his head back, his grey eyes losing focus as they stared at the ceiling, his pink tongue lolling out like a depraved succubus.

Then his body began to convulse violently, his eyes rolling back, as he came, splattering Zeke's stomach.

Zeke sped up, thrusting so hard he almost sat upright. The person in his arms jostled limply with his movements, offering no reaction even when Zeke came inside him.

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

When Erwin woke, he found Levi wrapped around him like a squid, face pressed against his chest, sleeping soundly. He brushed aside the black hair to reveal the small face beneath, his fingers gently tracing the smooth skin. Levi frowned, but nuzzled against Erwin’s hand, mumbling something incoherent.

“Hey, kitten,” Erwin murmured. “Wake up. I’m going to be late for work…”

“…Then don’t go,” Levi mumbled into his chest. “Your job’s shit… Your colleagues too… Don’t go.”

Erwin gently shifted Levi’s head away, tucking a pillow beneath it in his place. “I really have to get up. Sleep a little longer.”

Levi grunted in protest, hugged the pillow, and drifted back to sleep. Erwin leaned down, kissed his forehead, and got up to wash and dress.

He had never been one to separate work from life—mostly because he never had much of a personal life to separate. His friends were mostly colleagues; their dinners and conversations always circled back to work. Most nights, he ate microwave dinners while reading case files on drug rings.

But lately, he had begun to think that maybe keeping work and life separate wasn’t a bad idea after all. America was the world’s largest drug consumer, and the dealers were endless. His job felt like Sisyphus pushing the boulder uphill—every small success erased as it rolled back down again. It wasn’t that he found his work meaningless, but he was beginning to believe he deserved some reward outside it.

When Erwin finished dressing and returned to the bedroom, Levi was awake, sitting on the bed with his hair mussed and eyes half-lidded from sleep. Erwin sat beside him, smoothing his hair with his fingers. “Why didn’t you sleep a bit more?”

“You make too much noise washing up,” Levi said flatly. “You woke me.”

“Sorry.” Erwin pinched his cheek. “You can go back to sleep after breakfast.”

Levi rested his head on Erwin’s shoulder. “You’ll have breakfast with me then?”

“Uh…” Erwin rubbed his nose. “No time. I’m already running late.”

Levi frowned up at him. “Then why are you still here?”

“I just wanted to see you one more time before I left.”

“Tsk.” The frown eased, but Levi’s mouth stayed in a slight pout. “The straightest guy in town’s been possessed by a cheesy sweet-talker.”

Erwin cupped his face and kissed the pouting mouth. “When I’m on vacation, let’s go somewhere, okay? Just the two of us… well, maybe Hange too…”

“A trip?”

“Yeah. Maybe the beach? The forest?”

“Anywhere without Hange,” Levi muttered. “I don’t get vacations. People pay to leave the homes they’re still paying off, get sunburned next to screaming kids, and pay ten bucks for a Coke… But if you want to, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take that as you preferring the forest,” Erwin said, smiling. “My grandfather has a cabin on Lake Michigan. No noisy kids or overpriced Cokes. But you might see foxes, raccoons—maybe even a moose! Those big guys can lift a car!”

“Sounds more interesting than the beach.”

“Of course! We could take the boat out to fish for trout! Grandpa’s boat should still work if we fix it up—do you like fishing? It’s super fun! Different trout need different lures and—”

“All right, all right.” Levi patted his back. “You should go. Keep this up and your vacation’ll be spent making excuses for being late. But…” He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging his lips. “Fishing sounds more fun than anything I’ve ever done.”

Erwin glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’m off then. See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” Levi smiled faintly. “Can’t wait to hear your lecture on how to catch a fish I could buy at the supermarket.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Of course not.”

-

2001, Marley

“The news of Willy Tybur’s suicide by gunshot spreads across Marley. The old guard in the Conservative Party is panicking. The police have arrested several groups trying to burn ballot boxes this week… Looks like that old fool Rod has, in a way, finally sided with justice.”

Yelena sits opposite Zeke, watching him smoke. “Anyway—the capital’s poll numbers are out. Christa Lenz has an eighty-seven percent approval rating. A landslide. Every paper says she’ll be Marley’s first opposition president—and its first female one.”

She raises her chin at him. “Faking Tybur’s death scene as a suicide took a lot of work, you know. Zeke, are you going to explain why you had to kill him in a public restaurant? The Marley police might be idiots, but I heard Washington sent DEA agents here. They won’t just let their big fish shoot himself and call it a day.”

“I think the Americans want Christa Lenz in power too,” Zeke says with a shrug. “Compared to the Conservatives, corrupted by decades of cartel money, a young U.S.-educated idealist fits their narrative. The DEA can take it as their greatest victory. Tybur was doomed anyway. His death just came at the perfect time. They should thank us.”

“That logic won’t hold if they find out Christa’s father was a drug lord,” Yelena says, smirking.

“Even if people lived in Eden, they’d still eat the forbidden fruit. And Marley’s no Eden. People will always crave something—escape, pleasure, oblivion. They chose to be Sisyphus; they shouldn’t complain when the boulder rolls down again.” Zeke crushes his cigarette and smiles faintly. “Personally, I admire the DEA. They’re noble, but they’re also pathetic.”

“Have you always been this cynical?”

“I don’t have many years left,” Zeke replies. “I just want the people I care about to be all right after I’m gone. The rest of the world can rot.”

His gaze drifts to the courtyard, where Levi is surrounded by children. Gabi chatters at him while Falco watches. Levi frowns, but listens. Zeke’s mouth softens into a smile. He wonders what that clever girl is plotting—and hopes Levi isn’t annoyed.

“You really like him,” Yelena says quietly. She studies Zeke. “You don’t look like a dying man. Have you seen a doctor recently? Maybe it’s time to be optimistic.”

Zeke blinks, caught off guard. He looks down at the cigarette butt. “Late-stage lung cancer,” he mutters. “You ever heard of anyone surviving that? My doctor said five-year survival rate: seven percent. This is year five.”

“Well… every terminal patient I’ve seen was bald and bedridden. Since he didn’t say a hundred percent mortality, there’s still a chance, right?”

Zeke shakes his head—but his heartbeat quickens. Maybe it’s possible, but not for him… luck like that never finds him… does it?

He glances at Levi again—and at that moment, Levi looks back. Zeke grins foolishly. Levi’s lips tighten; he turns away.

Yelena stands and pats Zeke’s shoulder. “Try, Zeke. This is the Yeagers’ era now. You can’t leave Eren to fight alone. And him—” she nods toward Levi—“can you bear to leave him behind?”

-

“Stop staring at me like that,” Levi snaps later, pouring hot water into the teapot. He kicks Zeke lightly. “Piss off before I pour this on your face.”

Zeke steps back, obedient but still smiling. “I could watch you like this forever.”

“Pervert.” Levi swirls the cup and takes a small sip. “Gabi and Falco won’t stop talking about that Day of the Dead parade. Keep them out of my hair.”

“You’re patient with them,” Zeke says with a grin. “And Día de los Muertos is amazing! The whole country fills with marigolds—people dressed as ghosts parading through the streets. Way better than Halloween. You should see it.”

“Not interested.”

“Any holiday?”

“No.”

“Then what do you like, kitten? Any hobbies? Anywhere you want to go?”

He pauses. “No.”

Zeke hesitates. “That person you once mentioned—the one Tybur reminded you of. Did they ever want to go somewhere? Do something?”

The teacup stops at Levi’s lips. He lowers it, frowning. “None of your business.”

“So there was someone,” Zeke says softly. He leans on the counter. “I thought you loved Tybur. Now I know you were thinking of someone else. He called you kitten, didn’t he? That’s why you bit me when I called you that the first time… You loved him. You still do. Where is he now?”

“He’s dead,” Levi says flatly.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Zeke murmurs.

Levi arches an eyebrow. “Sorry for what?”

“For bringing him up. I made you sad.”

Levi lets out a low laugh. “Yeah. You made me sad. Monkey, you make me so fucking sad.”

“Sorry… I’m sorry…” Zeke’s voice wavers. “I won’t mention him again. I promise.”

“No need,” Levi says evenly. “You can talk about him anytime you want.”

Zeke stares at him, surprised. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t want to. Actually, I wish you’d forget him.”

“Why?”

Zeke laughs weakly, eyes wet. “You know why. I like you. No—” He exhales. “I love you.”

Levi freezes, then bursts into laughter—loud, uncontrollable. Tears glint at the corners of his eyes. “You love me? You, a stupid, disgusting monkey, love me?” He says it again, as if savoring the absurdity.

“Don’t… don’t do this…” Zeke’s chest aches. “It’s not the first time you’ve known this. Don’t…”

“Does it hurt?”

Zeke nods. “A little. Maybe you treat everyone who confesses the same way.”

Levi steps closer, eyes gleaming. “Then what reaction were you expecting?”

Zeke meets his gaze, words faltering. Finally, he says softly, “I just hoped you’d let go of the past. That you’d accept me. I want to make you happy. I’ve never even seen you really laugh. There must’ve been a time when you did. I want to help you find it again.”

“Oh?” Levi studies him, head tilted. “And how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Zeke admits. “That’s why I need you to tell me.”

Levi lowers his gaze, stroking his chin as if in thought. “Then I’ll have to think carefully,” he says slowly.

“About how you can help me find it.”

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Levi held up a black mini dress trimmed with white lace between two fingers, his brow furrowing deeply.

“What the hell is this?”

“I bet it’s the maid outfit! I bought it in your size! It’ll fit you perfectly!” Hange’s excited voice crackled through the phone on the table.

Levi immediately tossed the dress back into the box. “I’d rather die than let that thing touch my skin! And how the hell do you know my size?”

“Erwin told me! C’mon, Levi, please just try it on! For me!” Hange babbled enthusiastically through the receiver.

Levi turned a murderous glare toward Erwin, who stood guiltily to the side. “You told them? You want me to wear this?”

Erwin quickly shook his head. “No, no—I just asked Hange to get a few ‘low-key Halloween costumes’…”

Levi reached into the box and pulled out a Catwoman bodysuit. “You call this ‘low-key’?”

“Come on, Levi! I picked things that suit your petite frame and grumpy-cat face! You’ve got to pick at least one to wear! If you show up at my Halloween party in normal clothes, you’ll look like a total idiot! You don’t want everyone staring at you like that, do you?”

“I’ll look like an idiot because of these.” Levi pulled out a pink bunny outfit, gave it a single glance, and threw it back.

“Four-Eyes, what about the clothes you bought for him?”

“They’re in the other box!!”

Levi opened the second box. Inside lay a black shirt with a white clerical collar and a long black coat. He examined them carefully, his frown deepening. Whatever this was, it was definitely closer to “low-key” than anything in his own box.

He shoved the box toward Erwin. “You go alone in your ‘low-key’ costume! I’m not going anywhere!” He stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.

“Wow!” Hange exclaimed. “He’s really mad… But you’ll figure out how to get him there, right? Erwin?”

Erwin glanced toward the closed door, answering uncertainly, “Maybe… but he probably won’t wear anything you bought.”

“I picked those so carefully…” Hange sighed, genuinely disappointed. “Anyway, put yours on! Seven o’clock sharp—don’t be late!”

After changing, Erwin walked to the bedroom door and knocked gently. “Levi?”

“Piss off,” came the irritated voice from inside.

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know Hange would buy you something like that.”

“Cut the crap. You should’ve seen it coming when you left it to that damn Four-Eyes. Stupid, perverted, straight bastard…”

Erwin rubbed the bridge of his nose, a faint pang of guilt reminding him that, yes, he had half-expected something like this.

“Don’t be mad, kitten. You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to. But I do hope you’ll come with me, okay?”

“No… I don’t want to see your colleagues… that neurotic Four-Eyes, the dumb horse-face, the bald one, and that girl who’s always eating…” His voice softened despite himself.

“But you still like hanging out with them,” Erwin teased, already hearing the pout in Levi’s tone. “Now, can I come in?”

“You could always come in,” Levi muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is your—” His words died abruptly as Erwin pushed open the door. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Erwin asked, stepping closer. Levi sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him.

“You… what the hell are you wearing?”

Erwin looked down at the black cassock, his fingers brushing from the white clerical collar down to the silver cross on his chest. “A priest, I suppose.”

“Damn,” Levi muttered, his cheeks starting to flush. “You look… fucking—”

Erwin chuckled softly. “No swearing in front of a man of the cloth~”

“God…” Levi looked up at him, breathing faster. “I must’ve already sinned… Father?”

Erwin reached out to ruffle his hair gently. “You haven’t. You’ve always been a good boy.”

“Jesus Christ…” Levi buried his face in Erwin’s large hand, rubbing against it. “I’m definitely fucking sinful…”

“What did you do?” Erwin’s voice dropped lower.

“I haven’t done anything…” Levi looked up at him innocently, lips brushing his fingers. “But I want to do something right now. Father~”

“What do you want to do?” Erwin traced his lips with one hand and pulled him to his feet with the other.

Levi immediately wrapped his arms around Erwin’s waist, his flushed face pressing against the cross on Erwin’s chest, taking the silver chain into his mouth. Erwin had to slip two fingers in to pull the saliva-slick cross free.

The man in his arms whimpered, his body melting downwards. Erwin tried to catch him, but Levi pushed him back, making him sit at the edge of the bed while Levi knelt between his knees.

He licked his lips, glancing up at Erwin. Erwin lifted his chin with a hand, his thumb brushing the wet mouth. “What do you want to do?” he asked again, his voice hoarse.

Levi, sucking on his finger, mumbled indistinctly, “I wanna suck your cock.”

"Oh?" Levi nodded, his black bangs hiding his eyes. Erwin brushed them aside, revealing damp grey eyes.

"Good boys get rewards. Are you a good boy?"

"God damn it!" Levi's chest heaved rapidly. "I am! You said it yourself... I am... a fucking good boy!"

Erwin frowned slightly. "But you swear too much. I might have to take that back."

"Fuck!" Levi slumped over Erwin's knees, letting out frustrated grunts. "Not this fucking game again..."

"Shh... shh..." Erwin gently kneaded the nape of his neck. "I want you to put on clothes before you suck my cock."

"I'm fucking wearing clothes!"

"Kitten, you know which clothes I mean."

Levi looked up at Erwin, glaring. "You... pervert..."

"You want to defile a priest. Child, what does that make you?"

"God..." Levi collapsed, sitting on the floor. "Which one do you want me to wear?"

When Erwin walked back into the bedroom with the clothes, Levi had already stripped down to his underwear.

He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, head tilted back looking at the ceiling, a picture of utter despair.

"Let me state for the record: I am not leaving this house wearing whatever's in your hands... The backyard is the absolute limit. That's my bottom line."

He didn't even bother looking at what Erwin was holding.

Erwin chuckled. "If you insist." Then he tossed the clothes onto Levi's lap.

"I bet you picked the maid dress—" Levi cut himself off, staring in shock at the clothes in his hands: a pair of black jeans with ripped knees and a dark green hoodie.

"Isn't this just the kind of shit I used to wear all the time? You're not making me wear a dress?"

Erwin, having undone the cassock and let it hang open behind him, half-knelt, looking at Levi. "I said I wouldn't make you wear anything you didn't want to."

"Tsk." Levi rolled his eyes. "If it's in bed, you can make me wear anything." He slid his arms into the hoodie sleeves as he spoke.

"So this is your kink, huh? Making me look like my old street-fighting self?"

Erwin nodded.

"Straight guy, you never cease to surprise me!" Levi pulled on the pants and stood up, looking down at Erwin.

His eyes gradually narrowed, a sly smile spreading across his face. "In that case—wait here a sec. I'm gonna add a little something extra to your Halloween feast. Father~"

Erwin sat on the edge of the bed, watching Levi head into the bathroom, and said with a smile, "Okay. I'm looking forward to it."

When Levi emerged from the bathroom, Erwin noticed subtle changes. He had the hoodie's hood pulled up, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead. His eyes seemed darker and brighter; upon closer inspection, Erwin saw he'd applied a slight, upward-flicking black eyeliner at the outer corners. A black cross earring now adorned his left ear.

Erwin's Adam's apple bobbed. "Levi..."

Levi walked briskly to Erwin's feet, dropped to one knee, placed a hand on his knee, and looked up. "Father, I wish to confess."

Erwin leaned forward, reaching out a hand to touch the cross earring. "Oh? What do you wish to confess?"

"I've fallen in love with someone I shouldn't have."

Erwin's hand stilled for a moment. "Is that so? What kind of person is he?"

"Someone like you." Levi said offhandedly, eyes downcast, but his fingers gradually moved to Erwin's waist and began undoing his belt. "A good, kind, upright man."

Erwin gently cupped half of Levi's face, his index finger smudging the eyeliner at the corner of his eye. "What is there to confess about that?"

"Because I'm a bad boy." Levi grasped Erwin's penis with both hands, stroking it casually while lifting his gaze. His pink tongue darted out, tracing his lips.

A wave of heat surged in Erwin's lower abdomen, his cock hardening stiffly.

He reached out, pulled off Levi's hood, and ran his fingers through the soft black hair. "You're not a bad boy."

"Oh, I am." Levi blinked, then took the thick penis fully into his mouth.

Erwin's fingers involuntarily tightened in his hair, a rough groan escaping his throat. Levi's tongue deftly circled the head. One hand casually kneaded the scrotum while the other gripped the base of the shaft, adjusting his position. As his head bobbed lower, Erwin felt his entire cock being swallowed, the head pressing against the wet, warm throat, Levi's small, red mouth stretched to its limit.

"God... Kitten... are you okay?" Erwin panted, asking with difficulty.

A shudder ran through Levi's throat, like a silent laugh. Then he began moving his head up and down, fucking his own mouth with Erwin's cock, driving deep into his throat with each stroke.

As Erwin's breathing grew heavier, Levi's own eyes grew damp. No gag reflex. It was as if he was born for this.

One of Erwin's hands clutched the bedsheet tightly, his head thrown back as he gasped for air. The other hand tangled in the black hair between his legs, unsure whether to pull him off or push him deeper.

"Wait... wait..." Erwin finally regained some semblance of control. He held Levi's head still and slowly pulled his cock out of that mouth.

Levi's grey eyes were hazy with unshed tears, his cheeks flushed. He looked up at Erwin, confused.

"Father?"

Erwin slid his hands under Levi's arms, turning him 180 degrees to sit facing away in his lap. One hand slipped under the hoodie, kneading the slender waist, then slowly moving up to tease the already hardened nipples. The other hand parted his legs, fingers slipping through the rip in the knee, roaming over the smooth, sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

"Ah..." Levi moaned, involuntarily writhing on Erwin's lap, his ass pressing against Erwin's wet penis. With a ripping sound, the hole in the jeans was torn wider. Erwin's whole hand slid in, palm cupping the underwear already damp with pre-come, kneading.

"Ffffuck..." Levi's back arched sharply, his moans growing more frantic. His body twisted between Erwin's cock and his hand, as if seeking some balance amidst the pleasure assaulting him from different points.

Erwin leaned down and took the cross-adorned earlobe into his mouth. Levi threw his head back, dazed eyes fixed on the ceiling, mouth hanging open in desperation, drool trickling from the corner.

"Father... I... I'm gonna... cum... from just this..."

"It's alright, good boy," Erwin murmured low in his ear. "You're doing so well... You can... You can..."

"Shit!!" Levi's whole body convulsed violently, his back arching deeply as if pierced by an invisible sword, before going completely limp in Erwin's arms.

"Good... you did... so well..." Erwin wrapped one arm around his waist, soothing him gently, while the other hand tugged off the ruined jeans and tossed them aside.

Levi lay panting weakly against Erwin's chest, his oversensitive body trembling slightly with every movement Erwin made.

"You... you haven't come yet..."

"No rush. We have time."

"Mmm..." Levi bit his lip, looking down to watch Erwin's thick cock disappearing into his body again and again, the muffled sounds in his throat growing louder.

His own penis bobbed pathetically with Erwin's thrusts, slapping against his stomach, which was already a mess with his own release.

The hoodie was rucked up to his chest, and Erwin's large hands were rubbing and pinching his bright red nipples.

"I... I... really... can't... When are you... gonna cum... inside me?"

Erwin let out a low chuckle. "Good boy... You can have whatever you want..."

He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, making Levi jolt almost out of his lap. He had to press down firmly on Levi's lower stomach to keep him in place.

"Kitten?"

"...Mmm?"

Erwin's fingers pressed gently against Levi's lower abdomen, eliciting another hoarse moan from the man in his arms.

"I can feel myself inside you."

"Ah..."

Levi threw his head back, gasping rapidly, eyes rolling back. His passage clenched violently. Erwin thrust deep a few more times, and both their bodies arched, shuddering violently together.

-

When it was over, Erwin sat drying Levi’s hair. The smaller man suddenly gave a short, muffled laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for delinquent teenagers.”

“Only for you,” Erwin said, tweaking his earlobe. “The earring looks good on you. Why don’t you wear it anymore?”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” Erwin said, running his fingers through Levi’s black hair. “Your hair’s gotten long—you could tie it into a little ponytail.”

“Should I cut it?”

“No need.” Erwin leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “It’s cute like this.”

“Pervert. There’s still a straight guy hiding somewhere in that brain of yours,” Levi muttered, though his face was tinged with color.

“None left,” Erwin said, smiling. “I like you any way you are. Though, I didn’t know you had a thing for priests.”

“Please!” Levi’s face flushed red. “It’s not like I’ve got a thing for all priests! You in that damn outfit just looked ridiculously sexy, okay?! That’s not my fault! Good thing it’s ruined now, or I’d have to gouge out the eyes of anyone who looked at you at Hange’s party.”

Erwin laughed, kneading his shoulders. “Calm down, kitten. No one’s going to look at me.”

“You can’t be sure,” Levi said, sniffing. “But if anyone tries to take you from me, I’ll break every bone in their body and cut them into pieces.”

“Shh…” Erwin pinched his lips lightly. “No more nonsense. We’d better go—Hange will start yelling if we’re late.”

The cassock was indeed ruined, stained and torn. Out of respect for Hange’s party, Erwin dug out one of his father’s old shirts, threw on a leather jacket, and topped it off with a cowboy hat.

Levi gave a low whistle. “Add a whip and you’re Indiana Jones.”

“I was going for Wild West cowboy.”

“Then you’d need a beard and a cigar—but I’m not letting you.”

“Fine.” Erwin smiled, looking Levi up and down in his simple T-shirt and jeans. “You’re going like that? Hange’s going to be disappointed.”

“They deserves it.” Levi rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zeke leans against the wall beside Levi, watching as Gabi’s small hands carefully brush color across Levi’s face. Falco stands ready with tools, passing each one to her in turn. Levi reclines in the chair, letting the two kids position him like a patient doll.

Zeke studies that quiet, compact face, and a swarm of butterflies beats wildly in his chest.

A few days ago, he went to the city hospital for a checkup. Just as Yelena predicted, the lesions in his lungs hadn’t metastasized and had—miraculously—shrunk. After checking the pathology report again and again in disbelief, the doctor finally smiled and told him: the most wonderful thing has happened in your life.

Oh, certainly. The most wonderful thing has happened in my life.

“Gabi, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Zeke asks, eyes still on Levi but pitching his voice toward the girl.

“I want to be like you, Zeke.”

“A doctor?”

“You’re a doctor? No way. I don’t want to be a doctor! I want to be a drug lord.”

Levi flicks his gaze at Zeke, who awkwardly rubs his nose before pivoting to Falco. “Hey, Falco—what about you?”

Falco thinks hard, then asks, “Zeke, your kind of doctor isn’t the kind that treats sick people, right?”

“No.” Zeke ruffles his hair. “A PhD is a useless certificate you get by spending more of your parents’ money and hiding out in school a few extra years.”

“Really? Then what can a PhD do?”

“Waste rich people’s donations researching boring questions.”

Falco’s eyes brighten. “What kind of questions?”

“Uh…” Zeke rummages through distant memories, then gives up on explaining jargon to a grade-schooler. “Have you read Marvel comics? I basically worked on whether something like Ant-Man’s Pym Particles could exist in the real world.”

“Whoa!!” Falco’s eyes shine. “That’s so cool! Then I want to be a doctor too! Maybe I can build Iron Man’s suit one day!”

“Pfft.” Gabi rolls her eyes. “Comics are fake. What Dr. Zeke can actually make is high-purity meth.”

“Well…” Zeke claps Falco’s shoulder. “Maybe you really will make the Iron Man suit one day.”

-

The Day of the Dead parade floods the streets, marigold petals carpeting the asphalt. People in bright clothes and skull makeup sing, dance, pass bread and candy—celebrating death as if it were an old friend.

Yelena and Zeke stand shoulder to shoulder at the floor-to-ceiling window of a suite in the city’s best hotel, looking down at the revelers.

“Wonder how many new souls get added today,” Yelena says, sipping champagne. “The Colombians will be here soon. How are Eren and Floch?”

“Set. They’ll put on the best show our guests could hope for.”

“And Levi?”

Zeke’s eyes sweep the row of high-rises along the avenue before dropping back to the sea of marigolds. “Not sure. He’ll be wherever he thinks he needs to be. My guess is near the plaza where Christa Lenz is scheduled to speak—because Lara Tybur will likely show there.”

“Does he… know our plan?” Yelena asks, a thread of worry in their voice.

“I haven’t told him…” Zeke shakes his head. “But he’s not stupid. Who knows how much he’s pieced together.”

“Will he blow it up for us, Zeke? That’s all I need to know.”

A knock at the door. A subordinate steps in and murmurs, “The guests have arrived.”

Zeke nods, then tells Yelena, “Don’t worry. We’ll know soon enough.”

-

Hange draws a steadying breath, flashes their credentials, and moves the instant the suited old man steps outside. “Minister! I’m DEA Special Intelligence Research Specialist Hange Zoë. I need to speak with you!”

This is Marley’s Minister of Defense, Zackly. After Willy Tybur’s “suicide,” Hange burns nearly all their connections trying to meet him—only to be turned away every time. Learning Zackly will appear with presidential candidate Christa Lenz for a Day of the Dead address, they seize the opening.

Bodyguards form a wall. A middle-aged woman who looks like a secretary says, “The Minister is heading to Sina Plaza for the speech. If it’s urgent, please schedule through your embassy.”

“I’ve been trying for over a week! You haven’t given me a single chance!” Hange calls past them to Zackly. “Five minutes! I only need five minutes! Minister—this concerns your country’s future!”

Zackly, hand on the car door, stops. He waves off the bodyguards and says, “All right. Five minutes.”

Hange pulls a slim stack of documents from their bag as they approach. “First: Willy Tybur absolutely did not—”

“Agent Zoë,” Zackly cuts in with a motion toward the open car door. “Let’s talk inside.”

“Okay.” Hange exhales and climbs in.

“Willy Tybur didn’t commit suicide. We have evidence he was assassinated by the ‘Crack Brothers,’ the largest trafficking syndicate currently operating in Marley. Their leader is Zeke Yeager—the DEA’s long-running target.”

“The DEA isn’t the only agency in the world. We have excellent narcotics officers,” Zackly replies, leafing through the documents. “We contributed significantly to the Tybur Group’s downfall. As for these ‘Crack Brothers,’ you should speak with our narcotics bureau.”

“We have. But we both know Tybur fell mostly due to factional infighting. The Marley police and the DEA only played supporting roles… I know you’ve kept clear of those… dirty arrangements. That’s why I came to you.” Hange meets his eyes. “May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you support Christa Lenz?”

Zackly pauses, gaze shifting to the festival crowd not far away. “I love my country. I support whoever can make it better. And this is an internal matter, Agent Zoë. I assume you understand non-interference.”

“So you believe Christa Lenz is Marley’s hope?” Hange sighs. “What if she isn’t? What if there’s a cartel behind her too?”

Zackly’s brow lifts. “What are you implying?”

“Christa Lenz’s other name is Historia Reiss. The Reiss family is one of Eldia’s most notorious cartels—and they are colluding with the Yeagers…”

“Minister, we need to go.” The secretary raps the window.

“Minister—” Hange begins, but Zackly lifts a hand. “Thank you. I have to leave.”

The door opens. The secretary throws Hange a disapproving look. Reluctantly, Hange steps out.

“Agent Zoë,” Zackly calls.

Hange turns.

“Feliz Día de Muertos.” Zackly says, smiling.

Hange stands rooted as his car pulls away. For no clear reason, their pulse begins to race—and then a figure yanks them back from the curb. “Move,” a familiar voice whispers in their ear, one they haven’t heard in a long time. Hange’s heart kicks hard. They turn to see who it is—when a thunderous explosion tears the air ahead.

Zackly’s car blows apart.

Car alarms scream. People wail. Chaos shreds the street. In the crush, Hange lets their rescuer steer them through the stampede into a deserted alley.

Breathless, Hange takes in the person in front of them. Like many revelers, he wears black clothes painted with bones; his face is a skull. But Hange knows him instantly.

“Levi…”

Levi ignores them. He turns and shifts a stack of trash bags aside, revealing a man hidden behind them. Long black hair, blood on his face, eyes closed. Levi pats his cheek. “Eren? Wake up.” Nothing. Levi checks his pulse, exhales in relief, then sinks back against the wall and looks at Hange.

From the alley, the parade’s roar fades to a distant thrum; sirens draw nearer. Hange stares at Levi, eyes stinging. “Am I dreaming?”

“Maybe.” Levi angles his face away. “You’re safe. Go.”

“Why?” Hange asks, baffled.

“Why what? Why save you? I saw an idiot standing in traffic and pulled them out.”

“Why are you… alive?” Hange manages.

“Bad luck. Didn’t manage to die.”

“I’m sorry…” Hange inhales, eyes hot. They rarely cry; this is the second time they can remember. I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t keep you. The words stay lodged in their chest.

“Don’t apologize for what you couldn’t do.” Levi seems to hear what they don’t say. He tips his head back, stretches his legs along the filthy ground, and adds, with a weary breath, “Hange, you should go.”

“Will you… come back with me?”

Levi gives a short laugh. “You think I can go back? Don’t be stupid. Go.” He flicks a glance at the unconscious Eren and wipes the blood from his face with casual fingers.

“He is…” Hange looks at Eren. The features are familiar; their stomach drops. “Is that Eren Yeager?”

“Yes.” Levi nods. “I know you’re hunting him. You can’t take him now.”

“Why?” Hange’s hand edges toward the pistol under their jacket, though they hate themselves for it. “Levi… are you still on our side?” Their voice almost trembles.

“Two years ago today you threw a ridiculous Halloween party. I didn’t want to go. He dragged me there. Hange, without him… we’re not friends.” Levi says it without inflection, eyes on the alley wall.

“You don’t really mean that… do you?”

Hange searches his face, desperate to read any lie in it, their heart cracking by degrees. They really, truly don’t want to raise a gun at him again.

“You know I can dodge you at your fastest. I saved you; I don’t want to kill you. Don’t make me.” Levi glances over, gaze dark and hollow. “I’m tired. I just got Eren away from Lara Tybur’s people, and then I hauled you out from Zeke Yeager’s blast radius. I’ve done enough pointless things today.”

“Fine.” Hange lets the pistol go and scrubs a hand over the corner of their eye. At least… not today. “Then where’s Lara Tybur?” They latch onto the thread in his words.

“Dead.” Levi nods toward Eren. “He killed her. The Yeagers are probably signing with the Colombians right now.”

“Why kill Zackly? From what we knew, he supported Christa.”

“Ha.” Levi’s laugh is colorless. “Backing Christa doesn’t mean he’d tolerate them. Otherwise you wouldn’t have chased him down for a chat, would you?”

“Why were you there?” Hange frowns. “…Were you planning to save him?”

“I was just passing by.” Levi’s mouth tilts. After a silence, he asks, “Hange—do you know what kind of person Christa is?”

Hange shakes their head. “I’ve never met her… I only recently learned she’s Rod Reiss’s daughter.”

“Oh…” Levi breathes out, gaze lifting to the pale strip of sky. “Maybe someone knows.”

Before Hange can ask more, a scatter of footsteps scrapes nearby. Levi’s eyes sharpen. “Go.”

Hange slips away and disappears around the corner.

-

Zeke steps out of Eren’s room and comes up behind Levi, who sits nursing a cup of tea. He lays his hands on Levi’s shoulders.

“Babe, thank you for getting Eren out.”

“Lara came for her brother. I killed Willy. Eren shouldn’t have had to face her,” Levi says, even.

“But Eren took her nine runways, her planes, and the Colombian deal…” Zeke chuckles. “She had a grudge against the entire family.”

“Tsk.” Levi sets the teacup down as if it burns. “So now you’re out of enemies in Marley. Most people will pin Zackly’s death on the Conservatives. Christa walks into the presidency. Rod gets the scare of his life and will be terrified of you from here on.”

“I thought you’d try to stop me from killing Zackly,” Zeke says, working the knots from his shoulders.

“Why would I?” Levi rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in bearded old men.”

Zeke laughs. “I know. You only like blond men like me.”

Levi rolls his eyes again and lets it pass.

“Levi…” Zeke hesitates behind him. “Have you ever thought about your future?”

“Shot dead by the police.”

“No, no… that won’t happen.” Zeke bends to wrap him up, chin on Levi’s shoulder. “I mean—if we ever leave this business, what would you want?”

“Retire? Right after taking over the Colombians’ pipeline?”

“Not now… later. When Gabi and Falco are grown.”

“Let Gabi inherit your empire? Perfect—she wants to be a drug lord anyway. But will you even live that long?”

“Maybe I will…” Zeke whispers at his ear. “I saw a doctor… Babe, my cancer… it might be gone.”

Levi’s cup stalls midair. He hesitates, then sets it down. “Lucky you,” he says, neutral.

Zeke laughs and kisses his ear. “You’re happy. Don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Am I?”

“Your body doesn’t lie. I can feel it.”

“All right.” A small smile tugs at Levi’s mouth. “So tell me this retirement plan.”

“I want to take you on a trip… Have you been to Santorini? Little white houses. Blue as far as you can see…”

“Eldia has white houses and blue skies too.”

“Not going back to the States.” Zeke presses his lips together. “I want to live with you on some little island in Europe. Open a black-tea shop. Open when you feel like it. If the weather’s good, we go surfing or sailing…”

“A little island. A tea shop.” Levi laughs under his breath. “Why don’t you want to go back?”

“I don’t know… Maybe because I don’t belong there,” Zeke says slowly, fingers idly stroking the back of Levi’s neck.

“But I want to go back…” Levi lifts his head, gaze drifting toward the window. “Zeke, can you take me?”

Zeke blinks, then smiles. “If you want to—of course. Cross the border, a few hours. Not far.”

“Yeah. Not far,” Levi repeats. “Not far.”

“Why do you want to go back?” Zeke slips his hand under Levi’s collar, palm warm against his chest. “Anything left in Eldia you still care about?”

Levi tips his head back and shuts his eyes. “No.”

Zeke’s lips trail his throat like a moth brushing flame. “Babe, I know you grew up there… and you lost a lot there…”

“Yeah… lost a lot… too much…”

Zeke lifts him, turns him, folds him against his chest, rubbing a slow circle between his shoulders. “It’s a place that hurt you. Let’s not go back… okay?”

Levi doesn’t answer. He opens his eyes and looks up at Zeke, lids heavy with a flicker of doubt. “Zeke, why do you love me?”

Zeke cups his face until their noses touch. “You’re a smart man. Why ask a stupid question?”

“Answer me.”

Zeke kisses his forehead. “Because you’re adorable.” He tips Levi’s chin, kisses the notch of his collarbone. “Because you’re dangerous.” Finally, his mouth ghosts over Levi’s, a whisper: “Because you keep me guessing… and because I’m sure I’m special to you too…”

Levi laughs softly, then closes a hand around Zeke’s throat, applying light pressure. Zeke’s Adam’s apple bobs; a choked breath escapes.

“Is that special, too?”

“Of… course.” Zeke looks up at him, voice thin. “If… you like it…”

Levi shoves him onto the sofa and draws a small knife from his thigh pocket, spinning it once in his fingers. He narrows his eyes. “Is that so?”

Zeke doesn’t look away, his Adam’s apple working. “Yes.”

Levi steps forward and straddles his legs. The blade snips through the buttons of Zeke’s jacket; his other hand knots in Zeke’s tie.

Zeke’s arms clamp around his waist; his breathing roughens.

Levi flips the knife, tracing light patterns over Zeke’s chest. Even through the shirt, the sting travels straight to Zeke’s nerves.

“Babe…”

Levi presses a little harder. Fabric parts with a whisper; a fine red line blooms. He touches the tip to the marked spot. “Is this your heart?”

“Yes…”

Another soft tear of cloth, another line.

“What’s inside?”

“You…”

Zeke’s breath comes harsher. He shifts under the point, torn between avoiding the blade and arching into Levi’s weight. A deeper cut; he hisses.

“Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

Levi chuckles. He plants the knife upright, its tip poised to dimple skin. A bead of blood wells.

“If I push, how long until you die?”

“A few minutes… three, four?” Zeke can’t help watching the knife. Each breath nudges out another glint of red.

“How long did he last?”

“Who?”

“The one you shot through the heart. How many minutes?”

“I… I don’t know… maybe ten? It felt like he… held on.” Chaos made seconds stretch like rope; for Zeke it felt like forever.

Levi lowers his head, bangs veiling his eyes. He goes still, as if absorbing this—then the point begins to sink, fraction by fraction—

“Shit—are you crazy?!” Zeke shoves him away as fresh blood spills. The knife clatters to the floor. He rips off his jacket, bunches his shirt against the cut, breath ragged, eyes locked on Levi.

Knocked askew, Levi sits on the floor. His white shirt is spattered with Zeke’s blood; his face looks even paler.

Pressing the makeshift dressing in place, Zeke half kneels and smooths the hair back from Levi’s forehead, revealing confused, hollow gray eyes. He sighs and taps Levi’s cheek gently.

“Sorry… Babe, you were playing a little too rough. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Levi’s gaze drops to the wound. “Will you die?” he asks softly.

“No.” Zeke strokes his face. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Once it clots, I’m okay.”

At that, Levi’s mouth curls into an innocent smile—innocent except for the blood and pallor, which make it look faintly terrifying.

When Zeke comes back from the bathroom, the cut bandaged, Levi is still on the floor, turning the knife idly in his hands. He slants Zeke a look and quirks his mouth. “Looks like you’ve been scared soft.”

“Babe, don’t worry. With you here, I’ll be fine in no time.”

Zeke catches his wrist, plucks the knife away, and tosses it aside. He pulls Levi into his lap on the sofa, one broad palm cradling the nape of his neck. “No knives this time, okay? Bite me, choke me if you want. But you don’t want me bleeding out, right?”

Levi chuckles. “How do you know?”

“You still want me to fuck you,” Zeke murmurs. “Dead men can’t.”

"Fine." Levi rolls his eyes and grinds against Zeke's leg. "Then get hard for me now."

When Zeke finally comes inside Levi, a sharp throb tugs Zeke’s chest again. He brushes back the black hair tickling his bandage and finds Levi’s face beneath, dazed and unfocused.

Zeke eases the torn edge from Levi’s mouth and exhales, voice rough with fatigue. “You’re truly insane.”

The man in his arms laughs—and for a second, it sounds genuinely unhinged.

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia

Erwin woke to find Levi already watching him, dark circles stark against pale skin. That gaze was direct, unblinking.

He reached out, cupped Levi’s cheek, and brushed gently—futilely—beneath the smudges with his thumb.

“How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I… had a nightmare.” Levi tucked his face against Erwin’s chest, arms circling his shoulders.

“Want to tell me?” Erwin held him close, one broad hand moving slow and steady over the faintly trembling back.

“Ugh…” Levi’s voice was muffled against his sternum. “It was a stupid dream… but it felt so real.”

“Dreams are like that,” Erwin said softly, ruffling his hair with a small smile.

“I never used to dream…” Levi’s voice went dry. “…I dreamed you were hit by a big, stupid monkey. With a rock. There was so much blood. You were already… already…”

Erwin let out a quiet chuckle and lowered his forehead to Levi’s. “You know how unrealistic that sounds, right?”

“But…” Levi worried the hem of Erwin’s pajama top between his fingers. “It felt real. When that damn monkey hit you, I could only watch from far away… I heard dreams connect to parallel universes. Maybe in some other universe, a you really was killed by a giant, stupid monkey.”

“Is that one of Hange’s theories? I’m glad you two get along—though they do have strange ideas. If it really happened in another universe, there must have been a reason… Maybe monkeys and humans are at war there; maybe that Erwin hurt that monkey’s family; maybe throwing rocks is just a popular game there, like football here.”

“The monkey was five stories tall. Didn’t look like a fair game,” Levi muttered, brow knitting with genuine annoyance.

“Oh, kitten, it was just a dream,” Erwin said, rubbing the tense spot between his brows. “Or, like you said, a parallel universe. Maybe death is different there. Maybe people move between life and death freely.”

“Tch.” Levi pursed his lips. “Death is the same anywhere. Anyway… from now on, stay away from all monkeys.”

“Besides the zoo, I don’t run into many.” Erwin pinched his cheek. “I haven’t been to a zoo since I was ten.”

“Your workplace is no different from one,” Levi shot back, rolling his eyes.

Erwin sat up and slid his hands under Levi’s arms, settling him on his lap. He framed Levi’s face, lake-blue eyes warm.

“Levi, I know you worry about me. But this is my job. It’s something I have to do—and want to. And until Kenny Ackerman is behind bars, you won’t really be safe.”

“I’m not afraid of him. Let me come with you. I can help put him away.”

“You know that’s impossible. The FBI is involved. I won’t risk you.”

“Tch.” Levi shook off his hands. “So you don’t trust me, right? Kenny’s my mother’s brother. You don’t believe I’d really help you against him.”

Erwin’s expression hardened. “Levi, you know I trust you. Hange, Jean, Connie, Sasha—we all do. But your connection is too specific. No one can risk having you directly involved. We’ve prepared for this window for two months—”

“Maybe you should’ve arrested him the first time he made me kill someone. Then you wouldn’t have had to wait so long.” Levi got off the bed and turned his back to him.

“You know why I didn’t,” Erwin said with a sigh. “I didn’t expect him to go in person. I didn’t expect you to be there either… It wasn’t the right time. Levi, can we please not fight about this now?”

“I’m not,” Levi said, softer. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to start a fight about that.”

“If my last apology wasn’t enough, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”

They looked at one another, frustration simmering under the surface. After a beat, Levi turned toward the bathroom.

“Whatever,”

he tossed back, and shut the door.

-

After the failed attempt to capture Zeke Yeager, Kenny Ackerman had kept his head down in Marley, but the Reiss family’s smuggling pipeline from Marley into Eldia continued. Erwin and his team spent months mapping the drug and cash routes.

A few days earlier, posing as dealers, they intercepted millions in cash and thousands of pounds of narcotics—including hundreds of pounds of meth, Zeke Yeager’s unmistakable signature. None of it was logged, reported, or leaked.

Erwin staged the whole thing as a cartel deal gone bad, ensuring the Reiss family believed their shipment had been hijacked. That would force Kenny to fly back from Marley to handle it personally.

It was the opening Erwin had waited for; combined with the murders witnessed by DEA agents, it would bury Kenny for life.

-

Erwin leaned against a car, watching the tall, dark-haired young man speaking with Jean: Bertholdt Hoover, an FBI agent attached to the operation and Jean’s former academy classmate.

Hange clapped Erwin’s shoulder. “You seem a little off today. What’s up? Fight with the kitten?”

“No, he’s fine.” Erwin tipped his chin toward the agent. “Hoover… how much do you know about him? It isn’t hot. Why is he sweating that much?”

Hange blinked. “No way. Suspicious because he’s sweating? Bertholdt is Jean’s classmate. You absolutely argued with Levi—that’s why you’re like this. If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask him.”

“We didn’t fight…” Erwin sighed. “He’s just… still stuck on that time he killed a man in front of us. He asked why I didn’t arrest Kenny then.”

“We weren’t ready,” Hange said, studying his face. “But I don’t think he’d hold it against you forever. He wants in on this op?”

Erwin nodded. “But you know that’s impossible.”

“I know.” Hange field-stripped their pistol as they spoke.

“But I understand him. You’re asking a highly capable person to stay home and play house. No matter how much he loves you, that chafes. He wants to help you—not just live by your arrangements.”

“I get it…” Erwin lowered his head, rethinking his tone that morning.

Levi had cut nearly every tie to his first twenty years. Now his world was Erwin—and Erwin’s friends. Had he really reached the freedom he’d been promised?

“You didn’t do anything wrong. He’ll understand,” Hange said, patting his shoulder. “Once we have Kenny, it gets easier. I’ll talk to Pixis about bringing him into the next operation.”

Erwin looked uncertain. “I’m not sure…”

“Relax. Maybe we can even get him specially recruited into the DEA later.” Hange brightened. “He’s the guy who took down two guys like Mike. We need that strength.”

“But Pixis has always worried he might lose control,” Erwin sighed.

“Oh, please. Anyone can see he loves you. As long as you’re here, he’ll stay on our side.”

Erwin smiled, faintly embarrassed. “He’s good at heart. With or without me, he’d be on our side.”

Sasha’s voice crackled over the radio: “Three Toyotas approaching the warehouse with the goods. Can’t confirm Kenny Ackerman yet.”

Erwin and Hange fell silent. Pistols were checked; attention shifted as one to the warehouse.

“It’s Kenny!” Connie all but shouted into the channel. “I see his hat!”

“All teams, stand by. Once Kenny Ackerman’s inside, surround the warehouse. Sasha, Connie—secure the drivers in the vehicles.”

“Sir!”

-

Outside the window, it was very quiet. A neighbor passed by now and then, walking a dog; there was only the soft rhythm of footsteps and panting.

Levi had known little of such calm in the first two decades of his life. Even with a talk show mumbling on TV and the washer thudding in the basement, the silence was deep. The block he’d grown up on had been all gunshots, screams, sirens—louder dogs, too. As a kid, he’d dreamed of a place of his own. It didn’t need to be big, only clean and quiet.

This is your home too. Remembering Erwin’s words, he let the corners of his mouth tug up. Yeah. He had gotten his childhood wish.

The dryer beeped. He pulled the clothes out, one by one. The temperature had dropped lately, so he’d brought the heavier things up from the bottom of the closet.

Maybe they’d held a bit of damp; there was a faint must. He’d decided to wash everything again.

He lifted one of Erwin’s sweaters and brought it to his nose. It smelled like clean cedar—like Erwin. On a whim, he pulled it over his T-shirt. Perfect on Erwin, it hung oversized on him; the hem brushed his knees, and his fingertips vanished in the sleeves until he rolled them back.

He ironed the remaining clothes, folded them neatly, and returned them to the closet. The evening news droned—another graft scandal, a shooting in some district, someone’s lost dog.

He sat and poured hot tea.

Before Kenny had taken him from his mother’s body, he’d never tasted tea. Mostly he drank tap water. Sometimes a client gave him a Coke. He’d tasted worse too, when a pervert shoved his head into a gutter.

Kenny had taught him knives and guns, how to kill, how to survive. Erwin had pulled him out of that mud.

They were the two most important men in Levi’s life. And tonight, someone would get hurt. Maybe someone would die.

The hands crept past midnight. The TV played some black-and-white sitcom from who-knew-when, canned laughter bursting at intervals.

He thought of the morning’s dream again. It had been in color, which was how he knew what covered Erwin was blood and nothing else. He felt he could almost smell metal.

If… if…

He rose from the sofa, went to the bedroom, pulled a handgun from the nightstand drawer. He checked the chamber—empty. He tossed it back, went to the kitchen, chose a paring knife, and drew the blade lightly over his fingertip. A thin line of blood welled. He put it to his mouth and sucked it away. The blade flashed back a dangerous face.

Headlights swept the dim kitchen; a car pulled up outside. Levi wiped the knife clean and slid it back into the block.

He reached the door just as it opened. Erwin stepped in—whole, unhurt—holding a bouquet of roses. He smiled.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to knock on a lot of florist doors to get these…”

“Why…” Levi stared, stunned, forgetting to take them.

“Because of this morning. I owe you a proper apology.” Erwin pushed the bouquet into his arms. “Babe, are you wearing my sweater? It’s cute.”

“I was the one in the wrong this morning. It wasn’t your fault,” Levi said, lips tightening as he fussed with the flowers. After a beat, he added, “But you did keep me waiting so long, so an apology is warranted.”

Erwin laughed and hugged him. “Of course, babe. Of course.”

“You’ll crush the flowers…” Levi carefully freed the bouquet, set it on the hall table, then folded himself back into Erwin’s arms.

“Kenny? Don’t tell me he slipped away again.”

“We got him.”

Levi lifted his head, eyes wide. “You’re not joking?”

“Do you really have so little faith in my professional skills?” Erwin tapped his nose.

“Tch.” Levi hid his face again, nuzzling. “Good that you got him.”

-

While Erwin got ready to shower, Levi stood with arms crossed, refusing to leave and insisting on checking him for injuries. Erwin had no choice but to strip and turn in a slow circle, heat creeping up his cheeks under Levi’s frank stare—even after months together, the shyness lingered.

“See? No injuries.”

“I’ve seen every part of you. What’s there to be shy about?” Levi rolled his eyes and pointed at a red mark on Erwin’s arm. “What’s this?”

“Maybe a mosquito bite?” Erwin scratched absently. “I’m starting the water. You’ll get wet if you stand there.”

“So now you’re kicking me out.” Levi pouted, only backing up half a step.

Amused and helpless, Erwin set his hands on Levi’s shoulders to guide him out. Levi didn’t move. Instead, he stepped in and wrapped his arms around Erwin. “Maybe you should skip the shower…”

“Aren’t you worried I’m dirty?” Erwin asked, but he was already holding him.

“You’re not dirty.” Levi hooked his arms around Erwin’s neck, pulled him down, rose on his toes, and kissed him.

Feeling the frantic heartbeat and the slight tremor against his own body, Erwin finally understood—Levi had been afraid all along. Ignoring the sting where his lip was bitten, Erwin gently cradled Levi's face, kissing his chin, his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, murmuring softly in his ear, "I'm okay, I'm really okay, kitten. Don't be afraid…"

"Mmm…" Levi looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the corners tinged with red. "Pick me up. You're too tall. I don't want to be so far from your eyes…"

Erwin obediently cupped his buttocks and lifted him, letting Levi wrap his legs around Erwin's waist. Levi clung to his neck, immediately covering Erwin's face with a flurry of damp kisses.

"Kitten, what else do you want me to do?" Erwin asked hoarsely, his hands gently kneading Levi's backside.

"I want you to fuck me hard…" Levi bit his lip, his gaze locked on Erwin's. As Erwin's fingers moved, a soft gasp escaped his throat. "Hurry up… I want your cock…" He kicked his dangling feet lightly against Erwin's backside.

"You'll be sore…"

"Doesn't matter… I'm not afraid of pain… Just hurry… Mnh—ah!" His head fell onto Erwin's shoulder, his knuckles white, neatly trimmed nails digging into the muscles of Erwin's back.

Erwin pinned him against the wall, used his other hand to tug down Levi's pants, then grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the shower caddy, hastily pouring some onto his own hardened length.

"It really will hurt…"

"Fuck… stop talking so much! I'm telling you to put it in—" Levi's head snapped back, his eyes flying wide, mouth open in a soundless scream.

Erwin immediately stilled, his large hands stroking Levi's chest and abdomen soothingly, kissing his jaw and neck with aching tenderness.

"Sorry… relax… kitten… relax…"

"It's… it's fine…" Levi finally caught his breath, lifting his hips slightly to adjust. "Keep going…"

Erwin began to move, slowly at first. With each thrust, the moans from the man in his arms grew louder. One of Levi's arms stayed wrapped around Erwin's neck; the other hand slipped under the oversized sweater to rub and pinch his own nipple.

"Kitten, pull the sweater up…"

Levi obediently pulled the large sweater up to his chest. Erwin ducked his head, burrowing under the hem, his mouth finding a nipple and sucking hard.

"Ah…" Levi began to writhe in his arms, his feet kicking again at Erwin's backside. "Faster!"

Erwin picked up the pace. Levi arched his slender neck, his Adam's apple bobbing, emitting broken moans, his fingers scrambling randomly down Erwin's back.

"Fuck—Erwin… fuck…"

Erwin hoisted him higher, hooking the thin legs over his arms, and thrust in again, deeper.

"Ah—!" Levi's mouth fell open, his wet, pink tongue visible, drool trickling from the corner of his lips. His body shuddered again and again, and his untouched cock spilled between their bodies. The weakness following his climax made his legs feel heavy, dangling and swaying limply with Erwin's movements.

Erwin pressed his pliant body harder against the wall, holding one leg up and letting the other dangle, driving into him with increasing speed. The overwhelming pleasure made Levi cry out, tears and saliva smearing Erwin's shoulder.

By the time Erwin finally spilled inside him, Levi was barely conscious, hanging limply between Erwin and the wall like a ragdoll battered by rain.

Erwin cleaned him gently, carried him to bed, and kissed his forehead. “Kitten, I love you.”

Levi’s lashes fluttered. He looped an arm around Erwin’s neck and murmured,

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zackly’s public assassination certainly caused a stir in Marley, but it died down quickly. Two shooters turned themselves in at a police station, claiming they acted on Lara Tybur’s orders—killing Zackly to avenge Willy. The Marleyan police liquidated the Tybur Group’s final remaining assets and closed the case. They knew all too well that eighty percent of the crime on this soil was tied to cartels, whichever one it might be. When one falls, another rises to take its place, and the only people they ever catch are those discarded by the dark machinery of money and power.

The months-long electoral farce finally concluded. With the results settled, the people of Marley welcomed their first female president from an opposition party.

President-elect Christa Lenz must wait over a month before moving into the presidential residence, but the Yeager brothers have already traded their jungle huts for a luxurious villa.

An Eldian DEA agent might earn three to four thousand dollars a month with benefits, while a Marleyan police officer takes home less than three hundred. Their pay is not enough to fight crime, so often, they create it. The money needed to bribe a few Marleyan cops isn’t even enough to buy one of the Frida Kahlo paintings hanging in the villa. Add in the cost of paying off the two shooters to take the fall, and it still doesn’t amount to the loose change rattling inside this villa’s walls.

-

Zeke gets up early. Standing on the second-floor balcony in his pajamas, he stretches. A gardener is trimming the front lawn with a mower. Zeke signals to a maid and asks her to remind the gardener to hold off near the west wall—so he doesn’t wake Levi, who is still asleep.

After finishing a cup of coffee on the balcony, Zeke heads to the kitchen. Two maids are preparing breakfast; his sudden appearance flusters them, and a bread basket nearly tips.

“Sir, we’re sorry—you’re up so early today. We aren’t prepared yet…” the younger maid says in a small voice.

“Fool! How can you blame the Master for waking early?” the slightly older maid hisses, pulling her aside before turning to Zeke with profuse apologies. “Sorry, Sir! We’ll be prepared in advance from now on, whatever time you rise!”

Zeke smiles and shakes his head. “It’s fine; it isn’t your fault. I did wake early today—because I want to make breakfast for my family myself. Take a break, both of you.”

The two maids exchange a bewildered look and step aside to watch.

Zeke is already moving. “Oh, and Elin,” he says to the younger maid, “would you cut a few roses from the garden for me?”

“Of course, Sir!”

-

He sets out three plates, arranging toasted bread, crisp bacon, and scrambled eggs on each, then garnishes them with a few strawberries. After a beat of thought, he takes the strawberries from the last plate, hulls them, cuts them into hearts, and sets them back. Still not satisfied, he picks up the ketchup and draws a smiley face on the scrambled eggs.

“Someone’s up bright and early…” Eren wanders in, stretching. Spotting the three plates, he picks one up. “Wow! Zeke, you finally learned to take care of your dear brother!”

Zeke quickly snatches it back. “Yours is that one.”

Eren rolls his eyes but obediently takes the designated plate and sits. Chewing bread, he mumbles, “Anything to drink?”

“Coffee’s there—pour it yourself.” Zeke carefully measures a spoonful of tea leaves into the pot.

“And what are you doing?”

“Making tea for Levi,” Zeke says, pleased with himself. “But none for you. Don’t even think about it.”

“Tch.” Eren pours coffee. “I don’t like tea anyway.”

Zeke fusses over Levi’s breakfast and tea, setting beside them a vase of fresh roses just delivered by the maid. Eren watches, amused. “You look like a high schooler in his first crush.”

Zeke shoots him a look. “What right does someone in his twenties who’s never had a single relationship have to mock me?”

Eren stirs his coffee, clearly wanting to say something. He hesitates, then glances up at Zeke, a little embarrassed. “Zeke… how did you know you were in love with him?”

Levi’s voice drifts from the living room as he speaks to a maid. Zeke stares in that direction, momentarily lost.

Eren rolls his eyes. “Forget it. Asking you is worse than asking a gorilla.”

“When he first walked toward me,” Zeke says suddenly. “I didn’t know who he was, what he wanted… but I knew my world had changed.”

“…That’s disgusting,” Eren says, pretending to gag.

“You don’t understand.”

“Actually…” Eren pokes his scrambled eggs with his fork. “I might understand a little.”

Zeke lifts a brow. “And who managed to make my foolish little brother wise?”

“I don’t know either…” Eren drops his gaze, face flushing. “It’s my first time meeting her too.”

“What does she look like?”

“Very pretty… short black hair, slender brows, gray eyes… She looks cold, like she’s never really happy.”

Zeke chuckles, then slings an arm around Eren’s shoulders and squeezes. “Seems the Yeager family’s taste is remarkably consistent.”

“What’s her name?” Levi has walked in without a sound.

“Ah?” Eren goes redder. “It’s a Japanese name—kind of unusual. Mikasa. I don’t know her last name.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“At a bar,” Eren says, suddenly cautious. “Why? Do you know her?”

“No.” Levi sits at the other end of the table. “But be careful with strangers. You know the DEA and FBI are looking for you.”

“Ah… okay…” Eren nods, then mutters, “She has a Marleyan accent, probably not American…”

“All right, all right,” Zeke says, pushing Levi’s breakfast and tea toward him. “It’s Eren’s first time falling in love—don’t pour cold water on him. Eat first, babe~”

Eren shoots up, crimson. “I’m full! Bye!” He slips out of the dining room.

“Remember safe sex!” Zeke calls after him.

“Fuck you!” comes back down the hall.

Sitting down, ready to savor his time alone with Levi, Zeke suddenly feels the air turn. The man across from him is staring at the plate on the table, face dark, motionless.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Zeke asks carefully.

“Did you make this?”

“Y-yes. Doesn’t it suit your taste?”

Levi says nothing.

Zeke grows more anxious. “Maybe have some tea first?”

“No need.”

Zeke stands, hurriedly. “I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t know you wouldn’t like it. I’ll make you something else. What would you—corn tortillas, Marley-style?”

Levi’s fingers rest on the table, knuckles white. He speaks slowly, each word pressed out hard. “I said. No. Need.”

Zeke reaches for the plate. “It’s no trouble, I can—”

Levi stands in a whipcrack motion, snatches the plate, and smashes it to the floor. Zeke’s carefully cut hearts and the smiley face scatter across the tiles.

Zeke freezes—angry, confused—trying to understand what he did wrong. Levi never loses his temper without cause. Did he say something? He forces himself to steady, shaping a brittle smile.

“What’s wrong… kitten?”

Crash! The vase of roses shatters next. Levi glances at Zeke, the line of his lips trembling as if he’s holding something down. A flame seems to flicker in his gray eyes. His voice is cold when he asks, “What kind of house-playing game are you engaged in, Zeke?”

Zeke instinctively takes a step back. His throat goes dry; a chill unspools down his spine; his stomach drops into a pit.

“What is wrong with you?”

“A beautiful big house, waking early to make breakfast for your lover…” Levi nudges a heart-shaped strawberry with the toe of his shoe, his voice tinged with mockery though his face never smiles. “What a wonderful, happy life.” He grinds down; red juice spatters across the floor.

Watching the crushed strawberry, Zeke clenches his jaw, fists curling until his nails bite his palms. “Levi… have you never had a life like this?”

“No…” The last syllable leaves him on a sigh. He paces the dining room and kitchen, sweeping fine china, teacups, candles, vases—one by one—onto the floor. “So when I see it, I want to destroy it.”

When Levi steps toward the knife rack, Zeke finally lunges, wrapping him from behind in a tight hold. “Have you lost your mind?!” Levi drives an elbow into his ribs. Zeke grits his teeth and absorbs the hit, refusing to let go. Levi simply executes a shoulder throw, slamming him onto a floor glittering with porcelain shards.

Maids hover at a distance with mops and brooms, too afraid to approach. Zeke hauls himself up and waves a bloodied hand at them. “You may go. Don’t let anyone upstairs. Don’t tell Eren.”

After they scatter, Zeke plucks the embedded porcelain from his arm one shard at a time and wraps the wound with a tablecloth. These cuts don’t hurt much. The worst pain is in his chest. Maybe a rib is cracked again. Or maybe something else has shattered.

“You…” His voice scrapes; he clears his throat. “…can leave anytime, if you don’t like it.” He doesn’t hear how pitiful he sounds, like a toy doll with its voice box crushed underfoot. He waits a long time and gets no answer. Finally, he looks up at Levi.

Levi is seated on the far side of the table, head bowed, black hair masking his eyes, lips pale, the fingers on the tabletop trembling… or perhaps his whole body trembles. A thin, pathetic hope sparks in Zeke’s chest.

At least he’s hurting too, isn’t he?

At least he isn’t truly cold and unfeeling… At least he isn’t someone who can crush another person’s honest heart underfoot and remain unmoved.

Isn’t he?

Another possibility occurs to Zeke. “Do you feel you don’t deserve a life like this?”

Levi’s lips finally move, releasing a cold laugh. The fingers on the table curl, then loosen.

Zeke presses on. “Don’t you want someone to love you? Don’t you want a real home?”

Levi stares into space, his face smoothing into emptiness. “A real home…” he repeats softly, then lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.

Zeke exhales a stale breath. “Babe, you could try accepting it… instead of destroying it.”

Levi looks up at him, and Zeke sees that his eyes are red. “Do we deserve it?” he asks.

“The world doesn’t work that way, Levi. Not everyone gets what they deserve.” Zeke leans back in his chair, willing himself to relax. “On the contrary: Quem di diligunt, adolescens moritur.”

Hearing that, Levi laughs amid the wreckage until tears spill from his eyes.

-

“Every time I see you, you’re covered in wounds,” Yelena says, looking Zeke up and down. “One can’t help suspecting a peculiar fetish.”

Zeke tugs his sleeve down to hide the bandage and answers with an awkward laugh. “Just an accident with a broken vase. Superficial. It’ll heal in a few days.”

“Whatever.” Yelena rolls her eyes and hands him a folder. “This is what you asked me to look into.”

Zeke weighs the thin folder, surprised. “That’s all?”

“This is all I could find on Levi Ackerman. His birthday is Christmas Day, though his life doesn’t seem particularly favored by God,” she says, succinct as ever.

Zeke nods. “I knew a little of that.”

“Well… his mother was a prostitute. I assume you knew. His biological father is unknown—probably a client. His mother died of illness when he was seven, and Kenny became his guardian. They moved constantly; he changed schools often—many records from that period are gone. He dropped out of high school and worked for Kenny until later, as we know, he began working for Tybur. One thing you should note: police records indicate Levi Ackerman died two years ago.”

Zeke looks up from the papers, meeting Yelena’s eyes. “Tybur fixed that for him?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. The recorded date of death coincides exactly with the day you were preparing to flee to Marley two years ago. Was he working for Tybur then?”

“Tybur saved him,” Zeke answers, recalling the conversation he had with Levi on the night Tybur died. “There was a clash between Reiss and Tybur’s men that day. The DEA showed up too. Maybe that’s when Tybur took him.”

“The DEA wouldn’t confirm a death without a body,” Yelena frowns. “Did Tybur have friends inside the DEA back then?”

Zeke thinks it over. “Not sure about the DEA, but he did have people in the FBI.”

“Using that kind of pull to save a hitter from a rival syndicate?” she snorts. “Seems Willy Tybur was very fond of him.”

“He helped Tybur wipe out the Reiss family—or most of it, anyway.”

Zeke continues flipping. A few photos slip free. Two are standard booking photos with height charts behind them. Levi looks like a teenager in his—bruise on the lip, eyes narrowed at the camera, disdainful. The other shows a lanky blond boy, also bruised, with the same scornful tilt to his gaze.

“He was taken in twice, at sixteen and twenty-two—that’s five years ago—both times tied to this boy, Farlan Church,” Yelena explains, glancing at the photos. “At sixteen, he and this boy injured several drunk men who were harassing him. He got nine months of community service. Likely expelled from school because of it.”

“I bet the men were worse off,” Zeke says, unable to suppress a smile at the teenage Levi.

She nods. “The least injured one spent half a year in the hospital.”

“And this one?” Zeke picks up the last photo. It isn’t a mugshot—just a snapshot of the blond boy, now a young man.

“That’s a victim photo kept by the police.”

“Victim?” Zeke raises a brow.

“Farlan Church was leaving his night shift at a convenience store. He bumped someone by accident; the man pulled a gun and shot him dead. Levi was waiting to walk him home and happened to witness it. He went to the station as the sole eyewitness.”

Zeke studies the picture. Blond hair, light blue eyes, a gentle smile aimed at the camera.

“…What was Levi’s relationship with him?”

“Listed as ‘roommates,’” she says, watching Zeke’s face. “But I assume you have a different interpretation.”

“Yeah. I understand.” Zeke closes the file. “Thank you, Yelena. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Of course.” Her gaze flicks to the bandage on his arm, and she sighs. “But you should be careful, too.”

“I know.”

-

There’s still over a month until Christmas, but at Zeke’s instruction, the staff have already raised a Christmas tree in the main hall. Fourteen feet tall, all silver glitter and ornaments. Zeke had hoped Levi might show a different expression upon seeing it, but he passes without a second glance, as if Christmas holds no meaning for him.

The first floor also boasts a large indoor pool. Zeke and Eren often swim here, but Levi never does. He only sits in a chair by the water, staring out the window—like now. Outside, a vast rosebush overflows with blooms. Marley has no winter; roses flower year-round. The maids cut armfuls daily to fill the rooms, yet fresh ones open again the next morning.

Since that morning, the staff fear Levi even more. Outside of Eren, who chats with him occasionally, no one dares approach. He grows ever more isolated, ever more sullen, like a ghost haunting the villa. Sometimes he stares at Zeke for no reason, eyes hollow, as if gazing through him into some other world.

Zeke doesn’t know what to do. He has always been confident—even arrogant—clear about what he wants and how to get it. But faced with Levi sitting right there, he is lost.

Watching his profile, Zeke rummages for a safe topic. “How come I’ve never seen you swim?”

“I can’t swim.”

“I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t do.” Zeke smiles. “Swimming’s easy. Start with a float, get used to the water, and you’ll be fine. You’re smart; you’d learn fast…”

Levi looks at the still water, pauses, then looks away.

Zeke sighs, feeling he’s misstepped.

“Is that a Christmas tree?” Levi asks suddenly.

“Yes!” Zeke perks up. “It’s been there for days. You only just noticed?”

“Is it almost Christmas?” Levi studies the tree.

“Another month…” Zeke ventures, careful, “Do you like Christmas? I know you said you don’t like holidays, but… it’s Christmas.”

“Do you like Christmas?” Levi counters.

Zeke nods. “When I was little, every Christmas afternoon, Santa would visit me and my mom with presents. He’d say his reindeer were sick, so he was running late…”

“That Santa was actually your father?”

“Correct!” Zeke laughs. “Even after I knew it was him—that he’d spent Christmas Eve and morning with Eren before coming to me and Mom—I wasn’t that angry. Because… it was one of the few times Grisha acted like a father.”

“Eren must feel differently about Christmas.”

“Oh yes, he prefers Christmas Eve.” Seeing the faint spark in Levi’s face, Zeke can’t help asking, “What about you?”

“I already said I don’t like holidays.” Levi turns to him with a small frown. “What answer did you expect?”

Zeke swallows. “I know Christmas is your birthday, so I thought it might not be just another day for you.”

“Oh…” Levi lets out a long breath. “If the day a poor prostitute gave birth to a child in a cold, filthy apartment bathroom is a special holiday for me, then I suppose it is.”

“I’m sorry…” Zeke starts to say more but only repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Levi looks at him without expression. “You know Christmas is my birthday. What else do you know?”

“I also know he died many years ago. Maybe you’ll never forget him, but you should at least try to move on…”

The temperature in the hall seems to drop. Zeke braces for Levi’s anger—or anything at all. His grief needs somewhere to go. But Levi only stands there, frozen. His fingers curl and uncurl. His eyes hold Zeke, and for a long time he says nothing.

“I didn’t expect you to be so constant,” Zeke says with a bitter smile. “I’d like to see what you’re like when you truly love someone… and yet, I’m a little afraid to see it.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Levi says, the tone unreadable—neither denial nor affirmation.

“You are.” Zeke presses on. “Did you avenge him? The one who was killed in front of you… Did you kill him?”

Levi looks at him; a strange smile slowly unfurls.

“Not yet,” he says.

Chapter Text

1999, Eldia, USA

Levi climbed into the battered pickup Erwin’s father had left behind, puzzlement written all over his face. “You could’ve bought one yourself. Why drag me along?”

“It’s our first Christmas together,” Erwin said, buckling him in. “You have to pick the tree.”

“I don’t know how to pick a Christmas tree.” Levi looked down and absently plucked at the seatbelt.

Erwin laughed. “It’s not like picking a watermelon. Just choose the one you like.”

“Fine.”

When Erwin turned off onto a rural highway, Levi couldn’t help asking, “I thought we were going to Home Depot or something. Are you taking me into a forest to chop one down?”

“You won’t have to cut it,” Erwin said, winking.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Of course I won’t. You’ll be the one cutting.”

Only when they pulled into a sprawling farm of young spruce did Levi realize they weren’t venturing into any forest at all.

“My dad brought me here every year,” Erwin said as he parked. “He liked the smell of real needles more than supermarket plastic. So do I.”

“Real trees shed. And you have to buy a new one every year…”

“My mom said the exact same thing.” Erwin hopped out, came around, and opened Levi’s door with a smile. “But she still humored our little father–son tradition.”

Levi set a hand on Erwin’s forearm and jumped down. He walked straight into the green, inhaling. “Smells good.”

“Of course.”

With more than a month to go before Christmas, the place wasn’t crowded. While Erwin chatted with the manager, Levi wandered the rows, appraising each tree with grave seriousness. Too short. Too crooked. Too skinny.

Warm fingers slipped around his. Erwin had come up silently and taken his hand.

“So? Babe—find one you like?”

Levi pointed at a tall, perfectly shaped spruce. “How about that?”

“It’s beautiful,” Erwin said, stretching his free hand toward the tip. Even on his toes, he couldn’t quite reach. “But isn’t it a little tall?”

“I like tall trees.”

“We have to decorate it, too.” Erwin’s gaze softened. “I want you to reach the star on top.”

Levi squeezed his hand, then gave his shin a light kick. “Making fun of my height again.”

“You know I’m not,” Erwin laughed, ruffling his hair.

“I want this one,” Levi said, leaning his head against him. “And I’ll reach the star if I’m sitting on your shoulders.”

They loaded a nine-foot spruce into the bed of Erwin’s father’s pickup.

On the drive back, Erwin remembered Hange raving about a new bubble-tea place and suggested a detour.

“What taste does that four-eyed menace have?” Levi snorted. “I’m writing to the state and proposing a law against adding sugar, milk, and rabbit-pellet–looking black balls to black tea.”

“Sounds like you’ve tried it.”

“Hange brought one when you were out—when we were gaming.” Levi rolled his eyes. “But you haven’t had it, so let’s go. You’ll probably like it.”

-

The shop sat on a corner. As Erwin circled for a spot, a flicker of familiarity tugged at him. “Babe, have you been here before?” He turned—and found Levi staring blankly at the sign, face drained of color.

“What’s wrong?” Erwin parked and reached for his hand. It was ice-cold.

“You buy it. I’ll wait in the truck,” Levi said, coming to, voice tight.

“Cold? I’ll turn the heat on.”

“Not cold. Don’t.” The answer was quick, strained.

Erwin cupped his face. “Kitten. Tell me.”

Levi shook his head. Under Erwin’s steady gaze, he finally said, “This is where Furlan died.”

“Oh… God. I’m sorry.” Guilt hit Erwin hard for not recognizing the place.

“It’s fine… It’s been almost four years. And it looks different now… It’s normal you didn’t recognize it.” Levi eased Erwin’s hand away, staring out the window. “Let’s just go home.”

The drive back was unusually quiet. Erwin kept stealing glances, checked the mirror—Levi sat curled into himself, expression blank, eyes on the glass.

“Babe?” Erwin asked softly.

“I’m fine.”

Silence again.

After a long while, Levi said, barely above a whisper, “Erwin, you know what? I realized… I hadn’t thought about him in a long time.”

Erwin kept one hand on the wheel and folded his other around Levi’s, stroking gently.

“Maybe I’ve always been cold,” Levi murmured, head bowed. “I knew him almost ten years. We went through so much. But a few days of a good life and I’d almost forgotten him…”

“You’re not cold.” Erwin laced their fingers, palm to palm. “He’s tucked away in a corner of your heart. You know that, too.”

“Maybe.” Levi’s eyes were rimmed red, his tone edged with self-mockery. “But he died right in front of me, and I didn’t even avenge him myself. He had so many plans. Now I’m the one living the ‘happy life’ we dreamed about.”

Erwin pulled to the shoulder and turned to him. “Levi, you didn’t do anything wrong. I believe Furlan would want you happy.”

“No.” Levi shook his head. “It’s my fault. If not for me, Furlan wouldn’t have died.”

“Don’t say that.” Erwin reached to hug him, but Levi flinched away.

“Erwin,” he said quietly, eyes still down. “Furlan knew I liked you.”

Erwin froze. He stared for a beat before managing, “How… how could he know? Back then I was… you were…”

“You were dating Marie.” Levi looked up, eyes wet. “I didn’t know. I didn’t even realize it myself until he told me. I kept going to see you. I talked about you all the time.” A breath shuddered out of him. “I was so stupid.”

Erwin collected himself and set his hands on Levi’s shoulders. “Kitten, you didn’t do anything wrong. Love grows like a vine—it doesn’t ask permission. You can’t blame yourself.”

“He said the same.” Levi’s smile was brittle. “But I was stupid. I didn’t want to lose him, and I didn’t dare go to you. If I hadn’t been waiting for him that day, he wouldn’t have rushed out of the store, wouldn’t have bumped that man… He’d be alive. He was smart and he worked hard. He would’ve had a good life.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Erwin drew him in, palm soothing the tremor in his back. “Furlan loved you. And I love you. Running toward someone you love is instinct.”

Warmth slowly seeped through Erwin’s shirt. He kissed Levi’s hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t run toward you sooner.”

-

They wrestled the nine-foot tree inside and set it beside the living-room fireplace. Only then did Levi realize it really was too big; the top nearly scraped the ceiling.

“Looks perfect. You picked the most beautiful tree on the farm,” Erwin said with unfeigned awe, oblivious to Levi’s practical concern.

“Are you sure? It’s like a giant stuffed in a dollhouse.”

“It has its own charm.” Erwin squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Come on, let’s make it prettier.”

Levi watched Erwin lug a huge box up from the basement, huffing. In thick black marker across the top: “Mystery Treasure! Do Not Open Until Christmas!” A reluctant smile tugged at Levi’s mouth.

Erwin must’ve had a very happy childhood.

Inside were the Smith family heirlooms: baubles, bells, pinecones, bead garlands, ribbons… and a tangle of lights.

Levi eyed the “treasure” helplessly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s okay, kitten. Sit and supervise.”

Levi sat and watched Erwin work his way around the tree. His thoughts drifted back to a childhood far away…

Christmas was always cold. The shops were closed, but his mother still had to work.

She’d slip home in the early hours, tug off a thin coat to reveal a red-and-white short dress.

Her hands were ice, her embrace warm.

She’d pull out a packet of candy or a tiny cake and say to her only treasure, her child, “Merry Christmas, baby. Happy birthday.”

He learned early Santa wasn’t real, but his mother was.

Later, with Kenny, he’d walk blocks in the cold just to find a shop still open to buy him liquor, passing window displays without a glance.

Later still, Christmas meant huddling with Furlan in a poorly heated apartment, warming each other like two strays.

……

“I think that’s it.” Erwin’s voice tugged him back. Levi went to the newly dressed tree and noticed something on the little brass bells.

He turned one: “Kuchel.” Another: “Furlan.”

Erwin’s hand settled on his shoulder; with the other he rotated two bells on the far side toward Levi—the names of Erwin’s parents.

“Babe, what do you think?”

It was the most beautiful tree he’d ever seen, as if every bit of love he’d ever received had been hung upon it.

“Not bad.” He leaned his head against Erwin’s chest. “Didn’t you say we needed a star? Where is it?”

“Right here.” Erwin produced a silver star and placed it in his hand.

“The Star of Bethlehem. You have to be the one to put it on.”

“Fine.” Levi raised his arms as Erwin slid his hands under his arms and lifted him.

He gripped Erwin’s head and settled on his broad shoulders. Erwin caught his calves and took a few quick laps around the room.

“I used to ride on my dad’s shoulders like this. So? Feel like you’re flying?”

“So stupid,” Levi muttered, clinging tighter to keep from sliding. “But you do have potential as a fine horse.” The fine horse happily pranced in circles.

From up here, the house revealed new flaws. “The top of that cabinet is dusty.”

Erwin burst out laughing. “Babe, I really do love you.”

Levi couldn’t help laughing too. He tugged fondly at the soft blond hair beneath his palm.

“Giddy-up, Shadowfax. Take me to the star.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

Zeke walks through the ruins of a city. For some reason, his perspective feels high and distant, as if he’s standing on a giant’s shoulders, looking down at the ground. The city is crumbling—old, desolate, devoid of life. Creeping vines wind around broken walls and shattered roofs, a scene straight out of a post-apocalyptic film.

He keeps walking. Each step lands with unnatural weight, crushing what remains of the city beneath him. He thinks he hears crying, screaming—but knows it’s an illusion. There’s no one else here. He crushes another house beneath his heel. Debris bursts outward, the sound no louder than stepping on autumn leaves. A metal wheel rolls out from the rubble, clattering down the cobblestone street before vanishing into the distance.

Then a sharp pain pierces his chest—his arm—his eyes. His vision floods red.
He looks up. On the ruins of a high wall stands Levi, covered in blood.

Zeke jolts upright in bed.

The room is pitch dark and silent.

He spent a long time in the jungle—first in Tybur’s secret lab, then in the Yeager brothers’ cocaine camp. The jungle was never silent. Insects, rain, monkeys, distant machines—noise meant life. Noise meant safety. Silence meant something had gone wrong.

Cold sweat slicks his back. Only then does he realize he’s not in the jungle anymore, and he’s alone in bed.

He gets up, pulls back the curtains. A harsh white light floods the room—it’s already dawn. He steps into the hallway, where the air smells faintly of polish and perfume. The corridor is lined with art Yelena has collected from auction houses around the world. His footsteps vanish into the thick handmade carpet. For a strange moment, the villa feels more like a tomb than the dead city from his dream.

Faint sounds drift from the dining room—voices, clinking plates, the smell of food.

When Zeke walks in, everyone turns.

Yelena greets him first. “Good morning, Zeke.”

Eren, halfway through a peanut butter sandwich, mutters with his mouth full, “Do you know what time it is? Hint: I’m already eating lunch.”

Falco and Gabi are by the window, feeding crumbs to a parrot. “Your house is so pretty, Zeke,” Gabi says, “but it’s too big and empty—it feels like a place with ghost stories.”
Falco nudges her. “Don’t say that. It’s really nice.”

Zeke manages a faint smile, trading pleasantries before his eyes inevitably settle on Levi—sitting dead center at the table, the first thing he should’ve noticed. But the chill from the dream lingers, and he sits beside him a bit awkwardly.

To his surprise, Levi speaks first. He pushes a stack of newspapers toward him. “Congratulations,” he says evenly. “You’re famous again.”

Zeke clears his throat, ready to make a joke, when Yelena cuts in sharply. “Zeke. This time, it’s serious.”

His stomach sinks. He picks up the paper.

“The Marley Herald?” he frowns. “Never heard of it. Do we even subscribe to this?”

“A small local rag—barely ten thousand copies in circulation,” Yelena explains. “But today’s front page reports that your labor company has been using impoverished Marleyan women to smuggle drugs across the border.”

Zeke flips through the article. The Spanish is rough, but he can make out the name of his company. “How do they know?”

“A female journalist went undercover for three months.” Yelena exhales. “Her report is detailed—how they’re trained, how the goods are hidden, how they’re handed off on the American side. She even discovered that some of them are… minors.” She lowers her voice at the last word, glancing at the children.

“Gabi, Falco,” Zeke says quickly, “there are cookies in the kitchen—American chocolates. Go ask Elin for some.”
Once they’re gone, he shakes the newspaper. “It’s just a tabloid. Have Floch send someone to talk to the editor. People who write this kind of idealistic trash usually just need money—or a scare. Smooth things over with the workers too.”

Yelena crosses her arms. “We can ignore The Marley Herald. But The Paradis Times is another story. One of the biggest U.S. papers, and their journalists are already sniffing around. Zeke, you can’t afford more attention right now. The Colombians’ shipment is coming soon—everything we’ve built depends on this! If The Paradis Times exposes that we’re using women as mules, what do you think that pretty farm girl moving into the presidential palace will do to impress Washington? You’ll be her first trophy.”

Levi finally speaks. “If you already know the Times is investigating, that means someone tipped you off. You probably even know the journalist’s name.”

Yelena glares at him but nods. “Coincidentally, she has your surname. Mikasa Ackerman.” She pulls a paper from her pocket and tosses it on the table—a photocopy of a press pass.

The photo shows a sharp-featured young woman with short black hair and clear, piercing eyes.

Eren leans in—and freezes. “What?!” He grabs the page. “Mikasa? She’s a journalist?!”

Everyone looks at him.

“I—I told you,” Eren stammers. “That girl I met at the bar… it’s her.”

“Are you sure?” Levi asks.

Eren studies the photo again, then groans, burying his head on the table. “Positive. She even told me her real name…”

“How far did it go with her?” Zeke’s voice is ice.

Eren’s hands rake through his hair. “My mind’s a mess… just—give me a second to think—”

Zeke grabs him by the shirt and hauls him upright. “What did you tell her?”

“What’s it to you?!” Eren shoves him off. “Mikasa isn’t blind! She’s seen how the women here live! We gave them jobs, safety, a better life! Why should we be ashamed? Let her write the truth! Maybe those spoiled middle-class Americans should finally see how the rest of the world lives!”

SLAP.

Zeke’s palm cracks against Eren’s face. His own is flushed with fury. “Is that what you told her, you idiot?!”

Eren glares back, breathing hard. “Zeke. Are you ashamed of what you’ve done?”

Yelena steps between them, pulling Eren back. “Enough! Eren, listen—maybe she’s not against us. Think. What kind of person is she? What did she say to you?”

Eren shoots Zeke one last glare, then storms out with Yelena.

Silence falls. Only Zeke and Levi remain.

Zeke stares at the table, not daring to meet Levi’s eyes. He knows Levi has never approved of his “business,” and that the same words Eren just shouted were once his own justifications. Hearing them echoed back fills him with shame—and something colder, harder to name.

After a long pause, he speaks softly. “Do you think… I should be afraid?”

“Afraid?”

“I don’t know.” He rubs his temple. “Maybe I’m just afraid I’ll lose you.”

Levi regards him quietly, one arm draped along the chair back. “Why?”

Zeke gives a humorless laugh. “I thought you’d say, ‘Did you ever have me to begin with?’”

Levi’s lips twitch—neither agreement nor denial.

Just as that journalist approached Eren with her mission, Levi had once approached Zeke with his own. Zeke knows it, but he’s never wanted to think too deeply about it.

Levi breaks the silence. “What will you do about the journalist?”

Zeke exhales. “You have a suggestion?”

“She’s American. A high-profile reporter. Killing her would be messy. Bribery won’t work either—a woman willing to walk into a cartel’s den alone isn’t after money.”

“What about emotions?” Zeke’s voice drops. “Eren’s impulsive, but he’s not stupid. If she were faking everything, he would’ve seen it.”

-

1999, Eldia

“The third bail hearing for Kenny Ackerman was held today at the Eldia District Court. After a full day of arguments between the former hitman’s defense and the county prosecutor, Judge Gustav granted bail, setting the amount at four million dollars. He later stated that the decision was based on new evidence suggesting improper evidence collection by the DEA…”

Levi switched off the TV just as Erwin came through the door.

“I’m sorry…” Erwin said quietly, setting his briefcase down.

“Sorry for what? Kenny’s lawyers are practically O.J. Simpson’s dream team. Four million is the best we could’ve hoped for.”

“Do you think the Reiss family will actually pay that much to bail him out?” Erwin asked as he sat beside Levi.

“Better question—would I pay that much to bail out my dear uncle?” Levi rolled his eyes.

“Would you?” Erwin asked with a faint smile.

“Of course not,” Levi muttered. “But Uri will. He needs Kenny.”

“I thought so,” Erwin said, nodding.

“You knew and still asked,” Levi scoffed, giving him a light punch on the arm. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

“I heard from La Bola,” Erwin admitted. “Uri Reiss just arrived in Eldia. Zeke Yeager’s his golden goose, and he brought him along. Once Kenny’s out, he’ll go meet them. That’ll be our chance.”

“La Bola again.” Levi snorted. “I didn’t trust anything on the internet—especially something called the ‘dark web.’ Sounds like something out of The Matrix.”

“We were about to enter a new century,” Erwin said, half amused. “Maybe the internet would become a vital tool for law enforcement. It connects the world.”

“It’ll also help drug dealers connect faster,” Levi replied dryly. “I don’t believe the world gets better just because the calendar says 2000. But with you around, it probably won’t get worse.”

He curled up against Erwin’s chest like a koala.

“That Paradis Times journalist said something similar,” Erwin murmured, brushing his fingers along Levi’s jaw.

Levi groaned. “Don’t compare me to her. We just share a last name.”

That journalist—Mikasa Ackerman—had been investigating illegal immigration along the Eldia-Marley border for years. Shortly after Kenny’s arrest, she had contacted Erwin and shared her Marleyan source: La Bola. She had given him only the encryption key for communication, no other details.

Since then, La Bola had fed Erwin crucial intelligence on the Reiss family’s operations.

“Ever wonder who La Bola really was?” Levi asked, sprawled across Erwin’s lap.

“Of course,” Erwin said. “‘Bola’ means ‘ball’ in Spanish, there’s also a slang saying—‘¡Sepa la bola!’ It means, roughly, ‘Who knows?’ It came from a revolution long ago…”

Levi pretended to snore loudly against his chest.

Erwin chuckled and pinched his nose. “Back then, the government tried to identify protest leaders, but people from all factions refused to betray each other. When asked who started it, they’d all say, ‘¡Sepa la bola!’—so the authorities couldn’t trace anyone.”

“So La Bola means… revolution?” Levi looked up at him.

Erwin smiled. “I think it means they weren’t one person, but many.”

“Boring.” Levi buried his face in Erwin’s stomach. “I’m sleeping.”

“Kitten…” Erwin threaded his fingers through Levi’s hair.

“You were right, though. Maybe La Bola is a revolution—born from people in Marley who’ve had enough of watching their home devoured by drugs and corruption.”

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

The old Spanish-colonial building sits in an inconspicuous corner of the southern slums of the Marleyan capital. Hange has a hard time finding the entrance. After making sure no one is around, they climb the long, narrow staircase with care. The corridor is extremely quiet, filled only with the sound of their own footsteps and the far-off cries of a baby and barking dogs. For some reason, it reminds them of nights in Eldia.

Hurried footsteps come from above. With nowhere to hide, Hange steps to the side. A nurse in white smiles, nods, and hurries past. Hange lets out a small breath—just a nurse on her night shift.

At last they reach a metal door. They give the agreed signal: one soft knock, a pause, then three quick knocks. The door opens from within. A red-haired girl smiles and gestures Hange inside. The cramped room holds several unfamiliar faces.

Hange hesitates. “Which of you… is La Bola?”

“It’s me.” A short-haired woman leaning against the wall nods. “Mikasa Ackerman, Paradis Times reporter. I’ve heard a lot about you, Agent Hange.”

The redhead twists the cap off a soda, passes it to Hange, then tilts her head with a grin. “Also me. Isabella Magnolia, Marley Herald.”

Hange’s eyes widen. “You wrote the piece about the Yeager brothers using impoverished Marleyan women to smuggle drugs? Sister, you’ve got guts.”

Isabella shrugs. “Spent three months inside, and the paper almost didn’t run it. Thanks to—”

The inner door opens. A tall, capable-looking woman with black hair steps out.

“Marleyan Defense Forces, Major Ymir. I’m also La Bola.” She shifts aside, revealing a face now familiar in every Marleyan street and alley, even here in this cramped room.

The first female president in Marley’s history smiles and gives Hange a small wave.

“Hello, Officer Hange. I’m Christa Lenz. I was also the first La Bola to contact Agent Smith.”

Hange is momentarily too stunned to process it, and turns at last to the only person who hasn’t introduced himself—a Black man bent over a computer.

Feeling the weight of Hange’s You’re not some big shot as well, are you? look, he swallows and says a bit sheepishly, “My name is Onyankopon. I’m a computer technician. Oh—and I’m an old acquaintance of the Yeager brothers’ chief adviser, Yelena.”

He glances apologetically at the others.

“You all look very impressive standing together… sorry for ruining the composition.”

He doesn’t ruin anything, though he’s genuinely embarrassed to count himself among “La Bola.”

In truth, these La Bolas were gathered by Christa—formed by her.

A young woman with no roots in Marley’s vast, decaying political machine, she has climbed to this point by harnessing every available force, lifted by countless “La Bolas.”

The meeting’s purpose is simple. In three days, at the presidential inauguration, Christa intends to do something reckless: on day one of her term, launch a raid on Marley’s largest cartel—the Yeager brothers.

“Oh, and the Reiss family too,” Christa adds with a shrug. “Rod barely matters next to the Yeagers now… but I suppose I have a touch of Oedipus complex.”

Her footing in Congress is shallow. Though she commands broad popular support, the old foxes who’ve haunted officialdom for years still refuse to take her seriously. She needs to shock them—to wrench from their hands the power due a president. She will not be the pretty puppet they imagine.

The plan itself is straightforward. Ymir is responsible for the inauguration air show. “I just need to nudge the jets’ flight path so they pass right over the Yeager brothers’ airstrip—and swap the fireworks for explosives ahead of time. Naturally, we’ll need DEA assistance.”

“No problem,” Hange says with a tight nod. “I’ll convince Pixis. He missed the Yeagers two years ago and lost his best agent doing it. He’s been waiting for this.”

“Best agent—” Christa asks suddenly, “you mean Erwin Smith?”

Hange blinks, then remembers Christa had once been Erwin’s informant. “Yes. He was also my best friend…”

“I met him two years ago…” Christa draws a breath and lets go of Ymir’s hand. She looks directly at Hange. “I’m sorry, Agent Hange.”

Two years ago, Kenny Ackerman posted four million dollars’ bail, courtesy of Uri Reiss. The DEA tailed him immediately. But midway through surveillance, someone deliberately interfered with their vehicles—and Kenny vanished.

Hoping to give Erwin accurate intel, Christa—then a rising star in the opposition—risked exposure to contact her drug-lord uncle.

“Compared to Rod, Uncle Uri was… kind,” Christa says, voice calm. “I regret that he was the one who died that night, not my father.” Uri invited her to his secret Eldian estate and even threw a party for Kenny that night.

Sharing a room with these traffickers left Christa on edge, especially knowing the DEA was moving in. She wanted Zeke Yeager’s exact location before slipping out—but she was already too late. The estate was surrounded. She couldn’t be caught—or even seen—by police. Nor could she stand with the Reiss gunmen.

Luckily, the first DEA agent to spot her was Erwin. Their eyes met in the stables.

“Officer Smith recognized me,” Christa says, eyes reddening. “I never told him my identity. But he was sharp—just one glance, and he knew.”

To cover her escape, Erwin gave up his chance to arrest Zeke himself. Fate chose that moment to be cruel.

“I assume you can ride?” he asked while throwing on a saddle.

“Yes. I can.”

He boosted her up. The last thing she heard was: “Run. Don’t look back.”

She was a farm girl; riding came as naturally as breath. She squeezed the chestnut Quarter Horse with her knees; it surged forward into the night.

As she neared the rendezvous with Ymir, a gunshot cracked behind her. The horse reared; leaning forward to calm it, she couldn’t help looking back.

Under the dim stable lights, it was impossible to tell who had fallen—or who had fired. The fallen man and the shooter even shared hair color and build.

“If I had turned back to save him then…” Christa buries her face against Ymir’s shoulder and doesn’t finish.

“This wasn’t your fault, Ms. Lenz,” Hange says, their own eyes bright.

“There were people on Willy Tybur’s payroll inside the FBI. Their mission that night was to let Zeke go. Erwin… was killed by his own people.”

-

1999, Eldia

Erwin was in a foul mood that day. Levi could hear him in the study, losing his temper into the phone—the first time he’d heard him swear that much. Having surveillance on Kenny called off halfway by superiors, watching a long-planned arrest fall apart thanks to bureaucratic infighting—Levi thought even that much swearing was too mild.

The price of cursing his boss was two days off. Erwin didn’t seem to mind. Without new leads, sitting at his desk only meant staring at Pixis.

The break had one benefit: it let him finish the bathroom renovation ahead of schedule. With luck, he might even complete the kitchen before Christmas. Not long after Levi moved in, Erwin had noticed the bathroom counters and kitchen worktops were a bit too high for him. The house was built by Erwin’s grandfather; his mother and grandmother had both been over five-six. No one had considered that someone of Levi’s height might live there one day—Erwin was caught red-handed trying to measure Levi’s waist height in secret.

Levi thought the plan was unnecessary. This was already the best house he’d ever lived in; raising his arms a little didn’t bother him. But Erwin convinced him: “This is your home too. A house tailored for you can truly be called a ‘home.’”

So Levi endured the unending dust and the weekend noise. There were three bathrooms in total; under Levi’s firm protest, Erwin renovated only two—ripping out the old fixtures and installing side-by-side sinks at different heights. By evening, the two-week project was finally done. Erwin was pleased; Levi was mostly satisfied too—except Erwin had nicked his left thumb on a broken tile while cleaning up. It wasn’t just the convenience that warmed Levi; after being taken seriously again and again, he was beginning to realize he might actually deserve this kind of life.

Not only the life before him, but a future as well. He even sketched some rough, concrete plans: go back to school, maybe start with community college, slowly find a field he truly wanted; find a job—fighting wasn’t the only thing he did well. He had a good memory, learned fast; maybe not a genius, but sharp enough to see through a lot of bluff. Erwin suggested a bakery paired with his fresh-brewed tea. The problem would be customers—Erwin swore he was gentle, but objectively he still came off intimidating.

Either way, the first day of a chaotic yet hopeful little vacation passed.

-

Erwin woke early. Usually Levi woke first, but this time, when dawn lightened the room, Levi was still sleeping soundly in his arms.

He had just dreamt.

In the dream it was morning too. He stepped from his room; the furnishings were exactly as they’d been more than twenty years ago when he was in high school.

The kitchen radio was playing Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” His mother swayed and hummed along while making coffee.

Seeing him, she stopped and called, “Lunchbox is on the table! Don’t forget it!”

He grunted.

“Hey! Big guy~” his mother added, “Go call your father from the backyard. His coffee’s ready. The lawnmower’s too loud—he can’t hear me after a hundred calls!”

“Your radio isn’t exactly quiet either, Mom,” he’d joked, and obediently headed out back. His father was clearing grass roots from the mower.

“Dad?” Erwin called—

He woke then. His parents had been gone for years. He rarely dreamed of them; the familiar yet distant memories left him inexplicably sad.

He tightened his arms around the man in his embrace and pressed a gentle kiss into the soft black hair against his chest. Levi stirred, drowsy, nuzzled him. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Go back to sleep, kitten.”

He had no time to dwell on the past. More pressing things demanded attention. Kenny Ackerman, freshly bailed out, was a massive threat to the peace he and Levi now had, and Zeke Yeager was still at large.

So on the second day of his enforced vacation, Erwin picked up the Reiss files again, combing the various industries they touched for possible hideouts. After years of cat-and-mouse, plus Levi’s help, Erwin knew the Reiss family better than he knew neighbors of thirty years.

Just as he had circled a few likely sites, a familiar chime sounded from the study computer—a message from La Bola.

Levi, flipping through Erwin’s old college textbooks at the other end of the desk, looked up too.

After reading the message, both knew the vacation was over. La Bola had provided the current location of Kenny and Zeke Yeager—directly.

“Do you trust them?” Levi asked, even though he needed the intel as badly as Erwin did.

Erwin nodded. “I do. And this lets me guess La Bola’s identity—or at least the sender’s. She must be taking a huge risk.”

“She?” Levi frowned.

“Remember you once told me Kenny, drunk, mentioned Rod had an illegitimate daughter raised on a farm in Marley. I checked… and with this,” he tapped the screen. “Thanks to the internet. And thanks to the girl being somewhat well-known in Marley—an opposition politician.”

“A government official with a family of drug lords… Erwin, you’re saying your informant is both a Marleyan politician and a trafficker’s relative?”

“Exactly. If she wanted to protect them, there are easier, safer ways.” Erwin smoothed the crease between Levi’s brows.

“The Marleyan opposition has fought drug crime openly in recent years and won popular support. Helping us also helps her—even if her status is… unusual.”

Levi’s face fell. He didn’t want Erwin to go, but couldn’t find a valid reason to stop him.

At the door, he grabbed Erwin’s hand.

“Your hand’s still injured.” His fingertip brushed the cut on Erwin’s left thumb—the one from the broken tile yesterday.

Erwin laced their fingers and gave a small shake.

“Just a scratch. Pretty much healed overnight.”

“If all goes well, we’ll celebrate Christmas and your birthday in peace.” He kissed Levi’s ear and left home.

It was a very ordinary afternoon. No ominous clouds or storms. Eldia’s weather was partly cloudy turning clear, dry—the kind of day that called for short sleeves till the sun dipped. With nothing else to do, Levi began planning the Christmas menu.

Erwin wanted a party, inviting Hange and his three idiot subordinates. If Levi wanted, he could invite his own friends too. He didn’t really have anyone to invite… He couldn’t invite Mike, could he?

This wouldn’t be his first time celebrating his birthday—his mother and Furlan had celebrated with him before. But it would be the first true birthday party of his life.

He worried over what expression to wear while a crowd sang “Happy Birthday”… would he have to sing along? He’d rather die.

After dinner, Hange and the others would almost certainly drag Erwin into Dungeons & Dragons. Hange usually acted as Dungeon Master. Horse-face and Baldy hammed their roles outrageously—it was the most childish, ridiculous scene Levi had ever witnessed. Erwin got way too into it, too.

Once, before leading his party’s counterattack against a rock-throwing troll, he stood and declaimed: “The meaning of those soldiers will be given by us, the living! But we too will die here, entrusting that meaning to the next living person. That is the only way to fight this cruel world!”

Baldy and Horse-face cried, and even the big-eater girl set down her chips. Unfortunately, right after this soaring speech, he rolled nine consecutive misses, and Hange ruled, “Commander Erwin has fallen.”

Levi hoped the dice gods would favor him on Christmas Day. He even considered cheating the dice.

Evening arrived. Hange called first. Their voice was strange. They told him to come to the hospital—nothing else. As he hung up, there was a knock at the door. Mike stood there, expression tight.

“I’m here to take you to the hospital.”

Remembering Erwin hadn’t worn a jacket when he left, Levi went to the closet for one. Mike looked like he wanted to say something, but held it back.

Only once the car was moving did Mike speak, cautiously.

“Hange asked me because they’re worried you might lose control. They want me to keep you steady.”

“Why would I lose control?” Levi snapped, Erwin’s jacket gripped in his arms. He hated this strained atmosphere, all the tiptoeing and the things unsaid.

Mike sighed and said only, “Officer Smith is a good man.”

Is. Good.

If he’d said was, Levi would’ve thrown him from the moving car, driver or not.

The hospital corridor was hateful too.

Horse-face, Baldy, and the big-eater girl were all there, eyes red. Their first words on seeing him were, “We’re so sorry.”

At the end of the hall was a door. Hange leaned against the wall beside it, polishing their glasses with the hem of their shirt. Seeing him, they put them on quickly—several cracks spidered across the lenses.

“Where is he?” Levi asked.

Hange stepped aside, giving him the way. “I’m so sorry.”

He pushed the door open and went in.

It wasn’t a patient room. He knew at once.

The room was bare, lacking the machines a patient’s room should have. There was only a bed in the center, a body on it, shrouded by a white sheet.

He walked over and pulled the sheet back.

The face beneath was oddly unfamiliar—pale with a bluish cast, slightly sunken. Not the same man who had left that afternoon. That man’s lines had been sharp, his muscles full, his face young and bright with life.

Hange and those idiots must have made a mistake.

He searched for more proof. The T-shirt was soaked with huge patches of blood, the original color lost. A dark gunshot wound sat over the heart. That only proved the person was thoroughly dead.

Then he saw the left hand: the thumb wrapped in a band-aid, its edges curled—the one he himself had applied that very morning.

He took the hand, felt the familiar texture—and an unfamiliar cold.

He looked back at the face and could no longer pretend not to recognize the details everywhere: the stubble along the chin, the fine lines by the eyes, the neat sideburns, the golden hair.

“Erwin?” he called softly. The empty room returned only a faint echo, then fell back into dead silence.

The cold at his fingertips spread through him.

He stood there, at a loss, as if every Atlantic hurricane in an entire storm season had swept through his heart.

Chapter Text

2001, Marley

At 3 a.m., Zeke and Eren stand on the flood-lit tarmac, watching a transport plane from Colombia descend. With a deafening roar, the nose gear kisses the runway, the fuselage skips like a dolphin, and both brothers gasp. Luckily, the pilot is seasoned: he lifts the nose and settles the aircraft again. This time the landing holds, the rumble fades, and the plane rolls to a stop.

“Scared me to death!” Eren pats his chest. “If it had crashed, we’d be finished…”

“We could be finished at any moment,” Zeke says, clapping Eren’s shoulder. “You have to be ready for that.”

“I’ve been ready for ages!” Eren balls a fist. “If I die first, I trust you to take care of yourself. If you die first, don’t worry—I’ll take care of Levi for you!”

“What are you thinking?!” Zeke boots him lightly in the backside. “You take care of him? How? Does he look like he needs your care?”

“You love him so much…” Eren rolls his eyes, “…but you don’t trust him. You even had me stage that whole scene because you suspected he was tied to Mikasa… I really don’t get how your mind works.”

“You’re better off not understanding,” Zeke says, noncommittal.

By 5 a.m., Zeke is back in his room. Levi sleeps quietly, taking up only a small corner of the king-size bed—like a shy kitten.

Zeke watches for a while, lifts a hand to touch his face, thinks better of it, and pulls back. He lies down beside him and drifts off, worries crowding his head.

Around noon, Zeke sits up, bleary-eyed, and sees a figure backlit at the window. Small. Slight—so slight the sunlight seems to pass through him.

“Good morning, darling! Air-drying your wings in secret? I saw them~” Zeke jokes as he slides on his glasses. No response.

He gets up, moves to the window, and rests a hand on Levi’s shoulder. Levi stares outside. The sky is cloudless, a glass-blue—perfect for a celebration.

“What are you looking at?” Zeke follows his gaze. Servants in the courtyard are dressing a long table with flowers. In a few hours there’ll be a party; these are the preparations.

“Why today?” Levi asks suddenly.

“Why not?” Zeke answers. “The weather’s good for flying, the Colombians delivered, and it’s the new President’s inauguration. Isn’t it nice to have everyone together to celebrate? After this it’s only Christmas—and you don’t like Christmas.”

“This isn’t my party.”

“But I do have to consider your feelings…” Zeke nuzzles the back of his ear. “Is there anyone who loves you more than I do?”

Levi says nothing. No eye-roll, no ‘tsk.’ He keeps looking out the window, calm. The reaction unsettles Zeke.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke loops his arms around Levi’s waist from behind. “If you don’t like too many people in the house…”

Levi shakes his head.

“Thanks for understanding. I need a pretext to gather everyone who could affect us… And what looks more respectable than a businessman sitting with the President’s father and a Paradis Times journalist, watching the inauguration live?” Zeke chuckles and kisses Levi’s hair. “But don’t worry—I’m not bringing you a tiger to fight.”

“There isn’t,” Levi says.

“What?”

“No one loves me more than you.”
It takes Zeke a beat to realize his throwaway line has been answered like a real question.

Levi loosens Zeke’s hold and slips free, turning to face him. “Because everyone else who loved me is dead. You’d better be careful.” He heads for the door.

“It’s fine… it’d be worth it even dead.”

Zeke trails him with a goofy grin. “Wait—did you count Tybur in that? You killed him yourself!”

Zeke surveys the long table with satisfaction: the most important people in his life (barring the brand-new journalist and that old fool Rod) sit in a tidy row, even if a few look less than comfortable. The journalist perches beside Eren, both hands around a champagne flute, a little stiff. Zeke sets a hand on the back of Eren’s chair and addresses her. “Don’t be afraid, Ms. Ackerman. Eren, did you tell her we never kill people?”

“Of course!” Eren says at once.

“Relax,” Zeke adds mildly. “We respect your integrity. We won’t force you to write anything. Just write the truth. Like today: an old friend—” he points at Rod “—and I are celebrating his daughter becoming President of Marley. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

He pumps a fist. “Girl power! Haha~”

The journalist gives a quiet “Mm-hmm” and sips.

Zeke moves behind Gabi, who is glued to the TV. “So, Gabi—changed your mind yet? Drug-lord queen or future President?”

“I want to be a General!” Gabi points at Colonel Ymir standing behind the President on screen. Zeke laughs, ruffles her hair, and plants an exaggerated kiss on the back of her head. “Ambitious!”

He drops into the seat beside Levi, who sits next to Gabi, and turns to the broadcast.

Christa Lenz doesn’t take the oath inside the Capitol like her predecessors but stands among the people. One hand on the constitution, the other raised, she declares, firm-voiced:

“…I, Christa Lenz, will use the Constitution as a shield to protect the nation’s dignity and its citizens’ freedom; will use the Constitution as a sword to defend our homeland’s purity…”

Thunderous cheers swallow the final word.

“Not a common sight in Marley’s history,” Zeke says with a shrug. “I’d wager most people forgot the last few presidents’ names.”

“Zeke, I want to go into town!” Gabi slaps the table, electric with excitement. “I bet everyone’s celebrating!”

“I want to go too…” Falco raises a tentative hand.

“Alright! I’ll take you.” Zeke looks to Levi. “What about you?”

Levi shakes his head. Unexpectedly, the other Ackerman—Mikasa—raises her hand. “I’d like to go.”

“Ackermans and Ackermans aren’t the same after all,” Zeke says with a chuckle.

Zeke drives Mikasa, Gabi, and Falco toward the town center. The kids chatter the whole way, giving Mikasa a tour through the windows.

“That’s the football field Zeke built! That’s where Falco’s team lost last time!”

“That’s the hospital. People here don’t pay for medical care!”

“Why?” Mikasa asks.

“Because Zeke built the hospital too!” Gabi says proudly.

“Do people have to pay for healthcare in America?” Falco asks, curious. “Zeke said only rich people there can afford doctors—is that true?”

Mikasa answers carefully, “It’s expensive, but manageable if you have insurance…”

“Does everyone have insurance?” Gabi presses.

Mikasa shakes her head. “Only people with stable jobs…”

“What if someone who can’t work gets sick?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Zeke cuts in, still pleasant. “Mikasa is our guest. Don’t pepper our guest with impolite questions.”

Flags and portraits of the new President hang everywhere. The streets are busier than usual. An ice-cream truck hands out free cones stamped with the President’s face; a crowd with beers huddles around a doorway TV to watch the airshow. Gabi clamors to get out, and Zeke pulls over.

Gabi drags Falco toward the truck. Zeke steps out and opens Mikasa’s door. As she takes in the scene, he says, “You know, everyone here voted for Christa Lenz.”

The town looks warm and festive; faces are easy and bright. Even the armed guards at the corners read more like theme-park staff than soldiers.

So when the first gunshot cracks the air, most people take it for a balloon or firework. Only at the second, then the third, does panic ripple and people scramble for cover.

“Inside the shops—now!” Zeke shoves a frozen Mikasa toward a doorway and sprints for the ice-cream truck, calling for Gabi and Falco.

He spots them, curled and shaking beneath the chassis, and exhales—just as a burst of gunfire rakes the street. He throws himself over the kids. Bullets chew through the ice-cream unit; a spray of blue and pink splatters his back.

He glances toward where Mikasa was—she never went inside. She stands pressed to a wall, turns, and shoots him a complex look.

In the distance, armored vehicles bearing the Marleyan Defense Forces insignia grind onto the avenue.

Across from Zeke now sits a DEA agent in a tactical vest. He feels like he’s seen them somewhere before, though maybe it’s just a familiar type. Bright eyes study him through glasses.

“Finally, Dr. Yeager. I’m DEA Special Agent Hange Zoë,” they say.

“Since when does the DEA use terrorist tactics?” Zeke sneers. “And alongside the Marleyan Defense Forces, no less.”

“The two children are safe. If they’re found unrelated to your operation, they can go home today.”

“Their home is gone,” Zeke answers, rattling his handcuffs. “Thanks to you.”

“Listen, Yeager. I’m not here to debate child protection. Where is your brother, Eren Yeager?”

“Don’t know.” Zeke shrugs. “Didn’t you search my house? I assumed you’d start there.”

“We did.”

“Ha. Not home? The kid’s always out messing around. How should I know where he is?”

Zeke’s attitude tests Hange’s patience.

“Yeager, aren’t you afraid? You’re staring at the death penalty.”

“Horrified. Scared to death…” Zeke bumps his shoulder against the armored wall; the vehicle thuds. “Also afraid this thing might crash. You didn’t even give me a seatbelt.”

A long-faced young man who’s been glaring at Zeke jumps up, rifle butt half-raised. Hange stops him.

“Calm down, Jean. Call Connie—get me Ymir’s status.”

Jean glares once more, palms the phone, and moves away to call.

“Why so calm?” Hange asks.

“Probably because you’re not holding a script where ‘justice triumphs and the villain begs for mercy,’” Zeke says, trying to find a less painful angle for his back.

Hange inhales, then lays it out. “Zeke Yeager, you illegally produced over a thousand pounds of meth in Eldia and Marley, masterminded the women-courier network through the Yeager Labor Company, and oversaw the production and distribution of crack cocaine. You participated in or planned at least three murders, including a senior Marleyan official and one… DEA agent.” They exhale. “And we have strong evidence you’re using your own airport to move at least twelve tons of cocaine for a Colombian cartel.”

“Mmm.” Zeke closes his eyes as if bored.

The attitude puts a familiar edge in Hange’s gut. Jean returns, handing over the phone. “Colonel Ymir wants you.”

“The airport is empty,” Ymir says, clipped. “Yeager moved the goods. Agent Zoë, you’d better get the location of that shipment from him fast, or we look like fools. This is bad for Christa…”

Another call; Sasha on a different line. “Sir, Mikasa wants to talk.”
Mikasa comes on: “Hange, I heard about the airport… You know I’m on your side. And I believe neither you nor Ymir meant for the armored-car rounds to nearly hit two unarmed children. But if I report exactly what happened today—even stripping away the Yeagers’ theatrics—it’s going to be something neither Christa nor the DEA wants in print. I’m… sorry.”

Zeke watches Hange’s face darken with every call. The DEA has lost this round—even if his own position isn’t much better.

“Where is the Colombians’ shipment?” Hange asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have much leverage, Yeager. Even without that shipment, we can convict you.”

Zeke only shrugs.

The armored vehicle jolts over a bump; bodies sway, hands grab for balance.

Zeke hasn’t moved the goods because he can tell the future, but because of a bad feeling. With airspace crowded for the inauguration, the Colombians arrived half a day early. He and Eren worked through the night, Yelena hired twenty unsuspecting truckers, blindfolds on, relay legs only. In the end, not even Yelena knows where the load rests. Only Eren and Zeke do. If the DEA can’t find it, Eren is safe. And Levi too—thinking the name makes Zeke’s chest clench. Belatedly, he realizes he may never see Levi again.

Hange notices the flicker across his face. “The DEA agent you killed two years ago was named Erwin Smith. He was Eldia’s best…”

“Ahem.” Zeke cuts in. “About him—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to die. I didn’t know he would. He wasn’t even wearing a vest.”

“Because he gave his vest to someone else,” Hange says.

“Oh. Oh…” Zeke remembers the man’s expression. Recognition, then stunned disbelief as the bullet hit.

“He didn’t think you were particularly dangerous,” Hange adds, as if reading him. “He’d studied you a long time… And he was usually right.”

“I’m sorry,” Zeke says—and means it. He doesn’t do remorse; he still won’t, but he knows the man shouldn’t have died.

“I don’t think you’re all bad,” Hange says. “You build fields for kids. You fund free clinics for townspeople who don’t even work for you… Then you also know how many lives twelve tons of cocaine will shred.”

“Of course I know,” Zeke smiles. “But what if those lives deserve it?”

Hange frowns.

“Humans were using poppy seeds for trance in the Neolithic. Drugs rose with civilization because humans need them. God is fair: He gave us minds that warp nature—and suffering to match. He balanced it with coca, poppy… meth.”

“You think drugs are a good for humanity?” Hange stares.

Zeke shakes his head. “Humanity isn’t a good. Drugs let humans perish without pain. Mercy.”

“You’re carrying out God’s euthanasia?” Jean can’t help it. “What nonsense. Who do you think you are? Why don’t you ‘euthanize’ your loved ones first?”

“If they choose it, I’d have to respect it,” Zeke says with a shrug. “By the way… where exactly are you taking me? Don’t tell me all the way back to Eldia.”

Before Hange can answer, the armored car bucks—once, twice, again—as if rammed. Handcuffed, Zeke can’t brace. His head smacks steel. Everything goes black.

-

When he comes to, there’s only desert—bright sky, white cloud, no one in sight. He’s in the passenger seat of a moving SUV. Levi is driving.

“Am I dreaming?” Zeke reaches over and pokes Levi’s arm. Good. It doesn’t shatter.

Levi flicks him a glance. “Think what you want.”

Zeke checks the rearview, then twists to look. Nothing but sand and scrub, no sign of pursuit—just like the day they met.

The bad feeling climbs his ribs, so strong that merely looking at Levi hurts.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You moved the goods early. I thought you had a plan,” Levi says, flat.

“I might be a decisive chemist, but I’m still human… I make mistakes. I underestimated Christa Lenz. Thinking about it, it tracks—if her gamble pays, the old guard will bow. I just didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?”

Zeke looks at him. “I didn’t know how she thought she could win. It can’t be that old fossil Rod.”

“It was me,” Levi says, level.

Relief hits Zeke like pain. At least the shape of the confusion is clear now—even if it isn’t the answer he wanted.

“Admitting it early, aren’t you?” Zeke manages a crooked smile. “I haven’t even told you where the twelve tons are.”

“I know where they are,” Levi says, easing the SUV to a stop. He turns, and there’s a calm on his face Zeke has never seen—absolute stillness, as if nothing in the world could move it.

“You weren’t asleep this morning,” Zeke says, understanding.

“I never sleep soundly beside you—least of all today,” Levi replies, opening his door and getting out.

“Besides being the day your queen takes the throne, is today special for some other reason?” Zeke joins him in the heat.

Levi looks at him. “Don’t you remember? Two years ago today, you killed a man.”

Hange mentioned him in the armored car an hour ago.

“Erwin Smith,” Zeke says the name aloud. “So this is for him.”

Everything clicks. Memory avalanches through him. He doubles over, coughing until his eyes redden and veins stand out, until it feels like the cancer has come roaring back.

Levi waits in silence until Zeke straightens, ragged.

“Did anyone else tell you about him? What did they say?” Levi studies him with something like pity. “That he was Eldia’s best narcotics officer, dead at thirty-six…”

Zeke takes a step back, bumping the hood.

“They didn’t say he had a sweet tooth—within reason. That he only ever ate two cookies. That he took work so seriously he was almost idealistic—but it was still just a job, one he didn’t plan to die for. Not after he found something he cared about more…”

A faint smile touches Levi’s mouth. “He liked fishing. Rarely had time, but he planned a vacation for the salmon run. He was handy—had just remodeled the bathroom. The kitchen counter was next. He was prepping for a party, for Christmas and my birthday. He’d already hidden double the presents at home—thought I hadn’t noticed.”

Levi exhales. “None of those plans came true. Do you know why, Zeke?”

Zeke’s chest and lungs seize. It takes effort to force out the words that hurt worse: “So… you never loved me.”

Levi laughs softly. “Are you dreaming? How could I love you? I used you. Then I ruined what you loved—like you ruined mine.”

Maybe the pain spawns hallucinations, but Zeke thinks he sees a flicker in Levi’s eyes—Maybe you’re not as calm as you look.

“You saved me from the DEA just to say this? Darling, mission accomplished. I wish I were dead.” Zeke forces a smile. “And you—are you happy now?”

“Very,” Levi answers, expressionless. “The world is closer to what he wanted. The person he died to save sits in the presidency. If not for that, you’d be dead already—long before Reiss’s men raised a gun.”

“That so?” Zeke laughs thinly. “So today is the date you set for me. I see. And you?”

“Me?”

“Your exit. You must have one. Sweetheart, you’ve killed too many people… Will President Lenz help you? Can you even go back to Eldia?” Zeke can’t tell if he’s mocking or genuinely concerned.

“I don’t need an exit.” Levi kicks the back of Zeke’s knee. Zeke drops, kneeling.

“That must have been hard… sleeping with your enemy, using Tybur, using me…” Zeke looks up. “I finally get why you went to Tybur. You thought he killed him at first… God. I can’t imagine your last two years.”

Levi’s boot cracks his jaw. Zeke hits the dirt, blood blooming on his tongue. He actually laughs through the pain.

“Baby, you’re pitiful… More than I imagined.”

Levi yanks him back upright and forces him down to his knees again. Cold steel kisses Zeke’s forehead.

Levi bows his head; black hair hides his eyes. Zeke can only see the calm line of his mouth.

A helicopter’s whup-whup-whup rises, kicking dust into the air.

“How annoying,” Levi mutters, glancing at it. “I handed them both Eren and the shipment. Why disturb me?”

“‘Good people’ are good at overstepping,” Zeke says.

“I didn’t ask you,” Levi answers, and cuffs him across the face with the gun.

“Careful… it might go off… baby,” Zeke spits blood and a shard of tooth. “You’ve waited so long… you don’t want to die here with me, do you?”

Levi says nothing.

“Wow—do you actually want to?” Zeke studies him. “I think… cough… I’m starting to understand you. Why everyone you love dies. You’re drawn to the dying. The scent of death calls you.”

The corner of Levi’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t strike again.

The ground begins to vibrate. A sand lizard vanishes into the brush as the dust swirls higher. Zeke spits grit. On the helicopter’s nose, the machine gun dips—finding its mark.

-

1999, Eldia

It should have been a Christmas holiday spent with friends and family, but Hange was still at work. When Mike called their office, Hange already had a bad feeling—he never disturbed them without cause.

“He’s gone,” Mike said.

“Are you hurt?” Hange asked, unsurprised.

“No. If he’d chosen to fight me, I could’ve stopped him—given it my all… especially since he’d barely eaten or rested these past few days.” Mike sighed.

“But he said, ‘Please, let me go.’ Hange, have you ever heard Levi beg anyone? I’ve known him for years and never heard that. I’m sorry…”

“Mmh.” Hange propped their head on a hand, paused, then said, “It’s not your fault, Mike. You did your best.”

“He seemed okay the last few days… Did something happen at the funeral?”

Hange closed their eyes, recalling Levi at the service—silent from start to finish, neither crying nor speaking—until he overheard Jean and Connie.

“Jean! Connie! In here—now!”

“What did Levi say to you today?”

“Didn’t say much…” Connie scratched his scalp, baffled.

“Think again.”

Jean glanced at Connie. “I was telling him about the day Commander Erwin died. We said the FBI guys working with us caught Zeke Yeager, but he later got away… The Bureau said ‘internal review,’ but it’s been days. Levi heard and asked one thing—”

Connie finished, “Yeah. He asked the FBI guy’s name.”

Hange’s stomach dropped. “You told him?”

“Yeah,” Jean stammered. “Bertholdt Hoover. My academy classmate. Used to be decent. Guess he’s gone downhill.”

Hange shot to their feet. “Damn it. He went after Hoover.”

Bertholdt Hoover slumped into a dining chair, trembling, sweat rolling down his temples. A cold barrel pressed to the back of his skull; the hand holding it was pale and steady.

“How did Erwin Smith die?” Levi’s voice had no warmth.

“Agent Smith… was killed during a raid on the Reiss group… Haven’t you seen the news?” Bertholdt whispered. “What you’re doing to a federal agent is against the—”

Levi yanked his hair and smashed his face into the marble—once, twice, three times. When Bertholdt lifted his head, blood masked his features, his nose broken.

“Your mother’s account got a hundred thousand dollars three days ago. Sender: Theo Magath, Tybur Group.” Levi tapped his skull with the gun barrel.

“Ring any bells, Hoover? How did Erwin Smith die?”

Bertholdt began to sob. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone… I just wanted a better life for my family… Mr. Tybur promised I only had to let Zeke Yeager go… I don’t know who shot Agent Smith—maybe someone Tybur sent to extract Yeager…”

A glint cut across the windowpane. Levi dropped aside. The bullet slammed into the refrigerator. He grabbed Hoover by the collar and hauled him into the blind corner.

Outside, Hange almost screamed at the SWAT team. “Don’t shoot!”

But the shot was already gone. For one sick beat, they were sure they’d lose a second friend in a week.

Levi dodged. Then he dragged Hoover out of sight. Hange exhaled hard and rounded on the sniper. “Are you out of your minds?”

“That’s a dangerous suspect with multiple homicides, and he’s holding a federal employee at gunpoint. Agent Zoë, your superior—Pixis—gave the order. We’re following procedure.”

“Oh? And what’s the procedure now?” Hange snapped.

The officer only shrugged. “Call for backup.”

Dozens of meters away, a black Bentley idled at the curb. A hulking bodyguard stood by. A middle-aged man hustled up; the guard opened the rear door.

“Mr. Tybur, the SWAT team is surrounding Bertholdt Hoover’s apartment.”

“Do they know anything?”

“Probably not. But if they search, they might find links to the Tybur Group.”

Willy Tybur swirled his whiskey, took a sip.

“Then blow up the apartment,” he said, setting down the glass. “But, Calvi—I want that man alive.”

“You mean Hoover, sir?” Calvi asked.

Willy smiled. “I mean the one holding the gun.”

-

2001, Marley Border

Through binoculars, Hange watches Levi with a gun to Zeke Yeager’s head—just as, two years ago, they watched him hold a gun to Bertholdt Hoover’s skull through a sniper scope. Back then, the apartment exploded before backup arrived. Only Hoover’s body was recovered. Hange doesn’t know what ending this mirror scene will bring.

They call through the megaphone, again and again:

“You are surrounded. Please lay down your weapons. Please lay down your weapons.”

With every repetition, a hollow void opens inside them, as if years of work and faith are unraveling. No matter who fires first now, they know they have already lost their friend.

Dust swirls, gritting Zeke’s lenses. He slips off his glasses and tosses them aside. Levi is motionless, as if the helicopter overhead is nothing.

“Do you regret it?” Levi asks.

Zeke remembers instantly—the night Willy Tybur dies at Paraíso, Levi asks the same question.

Pain spikes; each sand-grain stings like a blade.

Zeke lunges, knocking Levi to the ground.

As Levi rises, he finally pulls the trigger.

At that same instant the helicopter gun thunders. Zeke’s body moves before thought—he throws himself over Levi.

Rotor wash churns a sandstorm. Hange and Jean hit the ground running, sprinting through grit toward where Levi stood.

Zeke Yeager lies sprawled, blood-soaked, still.

Hange kneels, finds a pulse—alive.

They wave the medics forward, then rise, scanning the barren ground. Another slick of blood glistens nearby; two severed fingers show in the pool.

A car screeches up. Ymir and Sasha spill out.

“We found Eren Yeager and the shipment. Hange, you okay?” Ymir calls.

Hange shakes their head. Ymir eyes Zeke under treatment, frowns. “Weren’t there two? Judging by this, he’s hit too…”

“This is wasteland,” Hange says. “You can walk for days and meet no one. He’s badly hurt. If he wanted to live, he’d wait.”

They stare out over dry grass and rubble, silent for a long time.

Only the helicopter’s roar fills the emptiness.

A pronghorn bursts from the bloody brush and vanishes into the plain.

-

2000, Eldia

Willy Tybur studied the figure on the surveillance monitor, amused. “What has he been doing?”

“Nothing,” Calvi said. “Nothing meaningful. Eats barely anything, sleeps most of the time. Sometimes spends hours in the bathroom—should I put a camera there too?”

“No need.” Willy pointed at the feed. “Take this one down as well.”

Calvi gaped. “Sir, are you sure? He’s Kenny’s nephew. He could be dangerous—”

“There’s no going back to Kenny. He’s a stray cat now—and I’ll give him a home.”

Willy undid the button of his suit and walked toward the room where Levi was held.

Halfway there, he glanced back. “Planning to watch from here, Calvi?”

Calvi understood and shut off the monitor.

2000, Marley

Christa excused herself to the restroom, slipping free of a few greasy hands. Years in Marley’s political world hadn’t made these galas easier, but this charity event funded classrooms and ballfields in the mountains; for the children, she endured the gauntlet.

In the mirror she gave herself a quiet pep talk and turned to leave—only for the door to close softly. A slim figure stood behind her.

“Who are you?” she asked, fingers brushing the spray in her clutch.

“La Bola?” the other asked.

Christa lowered the spray. “Are you connected to Officer Smith?”

A single nod.

“I just want to know what happened before he died.”

Early 2001, Mexico

Willy Tybur tossed his phone to the nightstand, leaned in, and kissed the forehead beside him.

“Darling, I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?” Levi murmured, lids low.

“You remember Zeke Yeager?” Willy buttoned his shirt. “Your uncle’s old friend—the chemist with the purest product. He’s the one who killed that DEA agent.”

“I remember.” Levi’s eyelids twitched. “You bribed that idiot in the FBI to poach him from my uncle. What—did they make up?”

“Not quite.” Willy laughed. “Their breakup was permanent. He and I have an agreement now; he works for me. But he still has unfinished business with the Reiss people—one last meeting. I want you to extract him.”

“Alright,” Levi said, a flicker crossing gray eyes.

“Where?”

“Oh, somewhere you know well…” Willy fastened the last button of shirt.

“The wasteland on the Eldian border.”

-

Epilogue

Zeke has lost all sight in his left eye. With his right, he can barely make out blurry shapes—his vision limited from one corner of a medical device up to the IV bag. That tells him he’s in a hospital.

Beyond his narrow field of view, there are probably police officers stationed just out of sight, maybe some surveillance cameras aimed at him.

He doesn’t know if his limbs are strapped to the bed—like in the movies, how they restrain high-security prisoners. But it’s meaningless.

A bullet is perfectly lodged in his spine. The only part of his body he can move is a single finger.

Whenever he can gather enough strength, he uses that finger to write in the air. Fortunately, the phrase “Let me die” isn’t too long.

A few times, he even manages to add “please.”

He believes someone can see it, but no one ever responds.

Time loses all meaning.

Zeke doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there—maybe months, maybe years, maybe only a few days.

He finds it impossible to fall fully asleep, and those half-awake, half-asleep stretches are the hardest to endure.

The pain in his body also loses its meaning—when every physical sensation reduces to pain, the brain forgets how to distinguish it.

For an ordinary person afraid of pain, that might be a blessing. But for Zeke, it robs him of a certain secret pleasure.

He remembers the past. The days playing baseball with Ksaver are the only memories from his lonely, obsessive adolescence worth dredging up to chew over.

He doesn’t worry much about Eren’s fate. He spent most of his adult life anxious about that boy, but now he feels strangely at ease. Whatever happens, Eren can’t possibly be worse off than he is.

For all the remaining time, he ponders one single question:

How can a person with only one movable finger kill himself?

He prays to every god he’s ever heard of, begging the cancer cells in his lungs to stage a comeback.

He thinks of Levi often, hoping that his heart might one day shatter from being unable to bear the overload of sorrow.

He feels like a speck of dust drifting endlessly through the universe—meaningless, weightless.

Or perhaps the starting point is that eternally humming medical device, and the endpoint that IV bag, dripping for ten thousand years.

One day, a thought occurs to him—and it’s like revelation.

He realizes he hasn’t been the loser in his long, drawn-out tug-of-war with Levi; he’s been its architect.

That’s why he could never truly win—nor fundamentally lose.

Thinking this, he laughs silently to himself. He even begins to imagine how Levi would react to this theory—would he roll his eyes? Mock him for clinging to this ridiculous spiritual victory?

God. Zeke has to admit he misses him so damn much.

Maybe his prayers are finally answered.

Maybe it’s just a hallucination before death.

Or maybe both.

In a moment suspended between chaos and clarity, he opens his eyes—and his remaining vision catches a figure sitting beside that medical device.

Black hair. Gray eyes. A gentleness he’s imagined countless times, but never truly seen.

Suddenly, calm floods him. The storm inside this paralyzed body, thrashing helplessly for so long, stills in an instant—as if he’s been waiting all this time for this moment, for this man.

Zeke’s finger twitches, lifting weakly. The other person presses a palm against it. Slowly, Zeke traces letters onto his skin.

I don’t regret it.

He looks up—half-defiance, half-confession.

Levi smiles softly. Then he leans forward, placing the hand—now with only three fingers remaining—gently on Zeke’s throat.

“I know.”

The heart monitor lets out a long, unbroken tone.

He gets the ending he wanted.