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thecrenshawchronicles · 5 months

Text

-BASICS

Name: Sebastian Crenshaw Age / D.O.B.: 36 / March 21, 1987 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: cis-male, he/him, bi-sexual Hometown: Los Angeles, California Affiliation: The Syndicate - Cleaner Job position: EMT Education: Bachelors of Science, Doctorate of Medicine Relationship status: Single Children: 0 Positive traits: (5) Assertive, Loyal, Self-Sufficient, Dependable, Unassuming Negative traits: (5) Manipulative, Obsessive, Callous, Blunt, Secretive

Bio TW: Abuse, Assault, Child Abuse, Death, Terminal Illness, Emotional Abuse, Violence, Miscarriage Mention, Self-Harm

-BIO

Sebastian Crenshaw. It was a name that attracted attention, and from the time he was little attention was something he had received in spades. He was doted on by his mother; as her only child he was the light of her life and she never hesitated to make him the center of her world. Throughout his younger years, she took him everywhere she went: charity events, church, even to her office job as a receptionist at a local bank; where he was oohed and aahed over, constantly being passed from one person to the next. Those experiences stuck to him as he continued to grow, filling him with an emboldened sense of confidence and charm. His teachers fawned over how intelligent he was, often complimenting his mother on how bright he his mind appeared to be and recommending he be moved up into the gifted classes. However, not everything ran smoothly in young Sebastian’s life. From the moment of his conception, his father had been angry; Mr. Crenshaw was a notorious penny pincher and the idea of raising a child, of paying to raise a child, infuriated him. When his wife had come to him with the news that they were pregnant, he showed his appreciation with his fists. He never touched her face, he liked her to look pretty; instead his hands pounded against the soft flesh of her body, trying to rid himself of the burden of another mouth to feed. Eventually he resigned himself to becoming a father. Unlike Sebastian’s mother who showered him with affection and love, his father scarcely paid attention to him. Only deigning to speak to the boy if he had done something unspeakable; wanting a new toy, asking for seconds at meal times, or even putting too much ketchup onto his plate. Each offense was dealt with swiftly and harshly, the belt Mr. Crenshaw used leaving long red welts against his son’s skin. His mother and father stayed in their loveless marriage for eight years, during which time Sebastian tried desperately to please his father, scoring an A on every test and assignment in school, and even going so far as to forgo meals in his attempts to earn the man’s praise. It was all to no avail and as each perfect test he brought home was crumpled up and thrown away, a deep, festering anger the little boy could not understand started to fill him. He started to act out in school, threatening smaller students than himself with bodily harm and starting small fires in the classroom trash cans. Finally, as she watched the changes in her beloved son’s behavior, Mrs. Crenshaw had decided she’d had enough of her husband’s vile behavior and left him, taking the only thing that mattered, her son, with her as she fled.

The few years following the split between his mother and father was a calm period for Sebastian. His transgression’s and anger faded into the background as he continued to excel in school. Still fascinated with fire, the adolescent took an interest in chemistry. Often he was left home alone to his own devices, as his mother was forced to take on a second job just to make ends meet. This led to an early discovery of sex and by the time he was 12 he had already lost his virginity. Sex became an outlet for all his pent up frustration and lingering anger. He was tall for his age, and in a fit condition due to his constant running from the bullies who picked on him for being ‘too smart’ or ‘the teacher’s pet’, which allowed him to pick up girls as much as four years his senior. Everything was going reasonably well, at least as well to be expected for a boy his age who had suffered through what he had, until his mother fell ill when he was only 15. It was early onset dementia, they were told nothing could be done, but that disease could be managed, its progress slowed with the use of medication. The medication was too much for his mother to afford on her own, all seemed lost. He did the only thing he could think of, the only course of action that could help make his mother’s ultimate descent into pain more manageable; he reached out to his estranged father. Sebastian knew through his mother that Mr. Crenshaw had remarried soon after the divorce was finalized, and to a woman with more wealth than Sebastian could even begin to understand. His expectation that his father might have changed, grown into a better man, spurred him on and he made the call. Whatever he was expecting, it was not the ultimatum his father had delivered. I’ll take care of that worthless mother of yours, so long as you come and live with me and my new wife and her children. I’ve told her we still communicate and it’s starting to look suspicious that I’ve never brought you home. Sebastian roared a glorifying, “Fuck you!” Before slamming the phone back into its receiver. A rage so dark it terrified him began to boil in his blood, shooting aggravated neurons through his spinal column and into his brain. Without thinking, he traveled to an abandoned building, chemicals from his high school and matches in his bag. The fire felt cleansing. Cleared his mind and revealed to him the only path that made sense. He would help his mother.

From that day forward he worked two jobs while also struggling to finish school. In the early hours of morning and late hours of the evening he worked at a local supermarket stocking shelves. The owner had taken pity on him, paying him almost double what the other boys were making, but it still wasn’t enough. It allowed him to keep the roof over his and his mothers heads, but it was not enough to get her the help that she needed. Desperate, he turned to a local criminal organization. His adeptness with fire kept him around and he was paid to clear out crime scenes and keep his mouth shut. Sebastian was also taught for the first time how to defend himself. That part may have been a mistake, for as his anger grew and festered, he began to use his talents to get revenge those who had wronged him. It did not matter if the person had merely bumped into him on accident or if they had thrown the first punch, he treated them all the same. His fascination with fire was something that he could not explain and as his mother’s dementia progressed in its ferocity, he began to grow more attached to it. The warm lick of the flames felt comforting and watching the thickened smoke billow into the air felt as though his worries were being set free. His relationship with the flame became loving. Sometimes in his worst moments of despair he would even burn himself.

Finally, after what seemed like a life-time of work, Sebastian graduated high-school, with honors and the position of Valedictorian. It was a momentous event, yet one his mother could not be there for as he feared losing her in the crowd. The one bright side was that he had been offered a full-ride scholarship to the local college in their advanced pre-med program. It was something he was grateful for as it provided him with on campus housing, meaning that all the money he made could go to his mother’s care in the new facility he planned to set her up in, no longer able to meet the needs of her full time care. His first year of college went well, until the spring of 2005. Sebastian’s mother finally slipped from his grasp, so sick she could not even remember her sons face, though she never in all her confusion, forgot his name. The loss tore through him so viciously that he attacked the doctor attending, nearly ending the man's own life in the process. Hours later, after sitting in the holding cell of the city police station, Sebastian was released; the doctor was refusing to press charges, stating he knew how loss had the ability to awaken the darkest creatures inside of them all. Overcome with rage and anger and nowhere to put it, Sebastian became reckless. He started sleeping with as many men and women as he could, using their bodies for his own pleasure before tossing them aside, tired and spent. The unlucky ones who were able to quell that rage often woke up to find their homes engulfed in flames. It was the beginning of a pattern that would take hold of his entire life when it came to relationships, including the one he held with fire. Exactly a week after his mother’s passing, a small funeral service was held, with the only people in attendance being himself and the priest. He had just finished laying a bouquet of beautifully colored roses on his mother’s grave when a vaguely familiar voice called out to him. It was his father, on the arm of his second wife, dressed in a suit of charcoal gray, as if he did not even have the decency to pay proper mourning respect to his deceased ex-wife. Seeing red, he charged at the man he held personally responsible for his mother’s untimely death. It was said by the doctors that her disease had been onset so early in life through repeated concussions and beatings to the head, and Sebastian knew just who was to blame for that. He launched himself at the man, viciously screaming, kicking, biting. Doing anything he could to inflict even an iota of damage onto the man who had ruined his life. Once the rage in his blood cooled and he stopped to take a breath, his father appealed himself to his only true born son. He gave Sebastian the address to his posh house on the hill, stating he could come by anytime to talk if he so chose. Without responding, Sebastian walked away.

The open wound left from his father gaped wider and wider as the weeks passed on, father’s day,, a month after his mother’s death, he truly lost it. Voices in his head were speaking to him, each drowning out the other in their quest for revenge and all he wanted them to do was stop. All he wanted was for the pain in his chest to melt away, for the pounding ache of his head to fade away. The voices speaking to him seemed to take on a mind of their own as they screamed out for revenge. It seemed that in almost the blink of an eye, he had arrived at his father’s remote location house, his feet carrying him against his will up the long winding pathway, hands knocking on the door without his consent. When the door opened, the screaming of voices reached a symphonic uproar, their clamoring cacophony blinding him at last. When he next awoke from the fever-pitch, blood coated his hands and clothing, the sticky half-dry substance pulling at the hair of his arm. Pressing a hand to his head, his eyes blinked slowly open to take in the carnage around him. His father lay dead beside him, his eyes and heart carved out, because he could not see, and did not care about the damage he had done to his son. In the doorway leading to the next room lay his father’s second wife. Hues of dark bruises in the shapes of fingertips fleshed against her alabaster skin. Her death had been a mere necessity, he had needed to go through her to get to the true target of his rage. For a few intense moments Sebastian struggled to comprehend the sight before him, until his swollen mind kicked into overdrive. He couldn’t go to jail, he had a life to get on with, he had to help the people like his mother. Sebastian turned to his oldest friend, the flame, to save his life.. Thunder rolled over head, the sound booming through the eerily quiet house. Too scared to do anything more, Sebastian turned tail and ran naked to his car. Before the key could turn into the ignition, a resounding crack sounded as thin veil of lightning struck the weathervane sitting atop the house. Within seconds, the roof was engulfed in flames, the image lighting up his rearview mirror as he sped away from the atrocity he had committed. For the first month after the incident he was jumpy; every sound making him whip around, his eyes ticking and twitching from severe lack of sleep. The news of the Crenshaw’s death appeared two days after the murder when their kids came home to find the house burnt to the ground. Investigators suspected foul play, as the charred bodies left behind had not breathed in any carbon monoxide from the fire, the fire that had destroyed any and all evidence pertaining to who might have killed those two nice people. The firefighters were adamant it was onset by the strike of lightning, and the case began sliding further and further back as new, fresher cases began to take precedence. Eventually, the file was set back to rest with all those of the other unsolved murders that had come before it.

Since that night, Sebastian has never again heard those voices, though the demons of his past echoed through his mind; leaving him even more prone to physical violence than he was before. He graduated college top of his class and went on to study neuroscience, using his knowledge and skills to help those like his mother. He even entered into a relationship with a nice man, someone whom he cared deeply for. Unfortunately, it was not a healthy one, as the stress and wear of his demanding job often caused Sebastian to lash out at his partner both physically and mentally. It felt like everyday he had to come up with new and more grand gestures of apology, just to keep him around. Until after one particularly bad day. He snapped, beating his partner to within an inch of his life, telling him gruffly that he had already killed two people, and wouldn’t hesitate to make him number three. Then he left. He quit his job at the hospital, changing his phone number and email, leaving no forwarding address. Enough money was sent to a lawyer from the money his father had left that Sebastian hadn’t had to deal with the messy cleanup of the incident or questions from suspicious cops. That was how he ended up in New York at age twenty-seven. He took up position as a resident at a well-known hospital and continued his extra-curricular hobby of setting things on fire.

On one such occasion he was particularly unlucky and was caught. After eight years in prison Sebastian is finally back out on the street and will forever owe the man who gave him a second chance as a family. He had heard of Sebastian’s work and recruited him as a cleaner. Both Sebastian’s medical background and handiness with fire worked well for the criminal organization that Sebastian would later learn was the syndicate. A new name was also gifted to him. One that allowed him to get work as an EMT, another thing that comes in handy when it comes to cleanup. He has more than a few murders under his belt now, because if there is one thing he is as a man it’s loyal. The Syndicate have become his second family and he would lay down his life for them if need be. Thankfully all that has been needed so far is to continue cleaning up other people’s messes.

#abuse tw #assualt tw #terminal illness tw #child abuse tw #death tw #miscarriage mention tw #emotional abuse tw #self harm tw #violence tw #sebastian.intro #wb.intro

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wing-ed-thing · 10 months

Text

Collaboration (Levi x Reader)

Synopsis: You and Levi, who has always treated you with the utmost disdain, are given a collaborative assignment. When you go over his head, you find that his feelings are a bit more complex than you expected.

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Reader is referred to as “pretty” and “beautiful”, Minor Original Characters, Characters with Bad Takes, Canon-Typical Violence, Language, Yelling and Name-Calling, Assault, Workplace Harassment

Notes: Ensure you read the tags and proceed with caution!

You thought naively that all group projects would end when you left school.

Erwin spoke your title and name as he stood at the end of the table, staring punishingly down at the bundle of papers in his hand. He handed the stack to his right to Levi.

“I’m assigning these to you and Captain Levi. I expect to hear a report at the end of next week.”

You made direct eye contact with Levi over the polished wooden table, the both of you having the same thought simultaneously. Your brows raised in mild shock and acute horror. His gaze was piercing as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The corner of his already scowling lips twitched downwards as he separated the stack of papers. He flung your portion across the table flippantly. They landed haphazardly in front of you, parts of the pages sliding out of the paperclip. You sucked at the inside of your cheek as you glared back, leaning forward to take the disorganized pile in your hands. By that point, Erwin had long since moved the meeting on.

You flipped through the pages until the meeting ended. It wasn’t the most extensive project you had ever been assigned, but you didn’t feel ecstatic about collaborating with Levi.

You felt him eyeing you, and as he rounded the table, you held your breath for his presence to pass. It didn’t.

“I want you in my office at noon tomorrow.” Levi crossed his arms, his compilation of files clutched in one hand and pinned to his body by his elbow. You inhaled deeply, lamenting to yourself as to why every interaction with your fellow Section Leader always seemed to be a confrontation.

“You can want a lot of things, Captain, but I have a schedule as well,” you breathed, not quite in the mood for repartee. Given that his office was just down the hall from yours, a quick stop by wouldn’t have been the end of the world. However, you didn’t appreciate the demand of your time.

The other squad leaders and various leadership had begun to trickle out. Erwin stayed behind to put away his assorted folders and visual aids.

“I don’t know how you usually go about things, but I’m not a fan of putting things off.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“I will swing by Thursday when I have a second to figure out a regular time for us to meet,” you nearly gritted, your tone sickly professional. Levi rolled his eyes.

All he said was, “Whatever,” before he pushed past you out of the room. A scowl overtook your face as soon as he left. Erwin had just finished taking down his various maps from the rolling corkboard.

“What a jerk.” You said aloud, not particularly to anyone. You crossed your arms over your chest with a huff. “You’d think I… I… killed his family by the attitude he cops with me.”

“Captain Levi does have his own unique… charm.” Even Erwin struggled with that one. With a shrug, he gathered up his things in the crook of his elbow. “He actually finds you quite pretty, I assure you.” An acute expression of amusement followed the single raise and lowering of his brows. His assurance didn’t do much for the deep frown on your face.

“What does being pretty have to do with anything?” You mirrored him, snatching your bundle of papers from the desk as you gestured sarcastically. “Has he been pulling my pigtails on the playground? Is that what you would say to me? Bad on you, Erwin.” The two of you slowly made for the door. He snorted at the swat you landed on his bicep.

“I’m sure he would if you asked him to.”

The corners of Erwin’s lips twitched up into an almost boyish smile. You continued to pout.

“You think you’re funny.”

“You know me well. As commander, I like to keep things light.” He adjusted his collar, squaring his shoulders back as he strode briskly down the hall. He plucked at his paperwork. You had to pick up your pace to keep up.

“You’re worse than he is,” you grumbled. “As commander, you should talk with him. His behavior is unprofessional at best.”

“Hm?” He hardly glanced up as he thumbed through his files. Erwin stopped momentarily in the middle of the hall, glancing back from where you just came and back to his papers. He fidgetted with them some more, and with a self-assured nod, he continued. You followed after him.

“Talk to him, Erwin. I’m sick of the non-stop attitude.”

“You’re grown enough to have your own conversations, Section Commander.” He hummed absentmindedly, making a sharp turn down the hallway and into the stairwell. The door almost hit you square in the nose.

“He’s your subordinate,” you petitioned, clutching onto the railing as Erwin rapidly moved up the stairs. Your words echoed as he reached the next landing. You hurried up the steps so as not to lose him. He held the door open for you, to your surprise, as you shuffled up toward him with labored breath.

“And your peer.” He gave you a pointed look before moving on. You continued your chase.

“Really, Erwin?”

—“Commander.”

“When my pigtails are at stake?”

“Ah yes, your metaphorical pigtails.” It took you a moment to realize you had reached his office when he stopped again. You stared at the large wooden doors, slightly taken aback. Erwin made a harsh jab at the folder in your hands. You could almost feel it through the paper. “It’s an assignment. I expect the two of you to get along.”

And before you could get a word in edgewise, he had already closed his office doors in your face.

***

The offices of the Military Police Brigade always had a drastically different feel compared to the Scouts. You walked past a stately courtyard and through stone halls. As you made your way up to the third floor, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone in the capital seemed so much more relaxed— if you dare use such a word. Not to say the Military Police lacked formality, but such decorum differed adjacently.

You rapped at an office door. You wouldn’t go as far as to say that it was decorated ornately, but the four brass curls that curved from the door’s hinges gave it a more elegant look. A muffled invitation came from the other side, and you let yourself in. The knob hardly creaked, unlike the one stationed at the entrance of your office. Captains in the Military Police probably didn’t have to deal with squeaky doors or broken locks, you pondered to yourself bitterly.

Captain Thatch sat behind his desk with a pen in his hand. His bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of you as he stood to welcome you with a wave of his palm. You closed the door behind you as he greeted you by name. The two of you saluted to each other before you held up a handful of documents.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, beautiful? I hope you Scouts haven’t gotten into too much trouble now.” You strode across the room to hand them over, rolling your eyes as you did—typical Thatch. You invited yourself to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Thatch settled into his comfy seat as he flipped through the folder, and his eyes bulged. “Captain Levi is on this, huh.”

“It’s straight from Commander Erwin.” Thatch chuckled to himself. He sat, continuing to flip pages.

“That guy refuses to tell me where he gets his hair gel,” he sighed with a shake. You always thought that Thatch looked like most men that served in the MPs. Lean and neatly uniformed, you considered that he wore his light brown hair in a barely practical style for combat. As an MP, he could get away with that.

“I’ll ensure it’s the first order of business at the next meeting,” you snorted, slinging an ankle over your opposite knee. You glanced around his office, taking note of all his little knickknacks as you typically did when you were here. MP officers certainly loved their useless little decorations.

“See, this is why I like you comin’ here.” Thatch clicked his tongue. The end of his quill brushed against his lip as he studied you. “You know I’m a man who likes to indulge in a bit of flattery.”

The comment escaped you as you launched into jargon and well-rehearsed lines about what support you would need for your and Levi’s project. You sat at the edge of your chair, gripping a pen as you motioned to various items that lay flat on Thatch’s desk. You talked for well over an hour.

“Well,” he leaned back, something about him oozing self-satisfaction. “I’m honored you came to me for support on this.”

“Support from the Military Police would be of the utmost help,” you responded diplomatically, glossing over that this issue was Thatch’s specific jurisdiction and, therefore, the only person you could’ve gone to.

“I’ll pass it along if it means I’ll see you around here more.” Thatch grinned as his cheek settled into the palm of his hand. You sighed. Perhaps lack of professionalism in the workplace extended to more people than just Levi.

“I’ll have someone reach out to you about a meeting to discuss further. Let’s coordinate something soon.” You stood, and with a quick salute, you let yourself out.

***

“I thought you’d never show up. Tsk, think you could send a little notice next time?”

You almost touched your forehead to the door as you entered, his rude words almost making you turn on your heel to leave. The latch clicked shut behind you as you made your way over to Levi’s desk. Another office door that worked better than yours did. You considered putting in a work order.

He lounged on his office chair, a warm cup of tea pinched between the pads of his fingers. He sat up, placing it on his desk as he rested his elbows.

“I’ll have you know I just finished up with Captain Thatch,” you said, trying to mask the bitterness in your tone. You let yourself in, sitting across from another desk for the second time that day. Levi arched a brow, staring deeply into the liquid of his cup. He traced the rim with his index finger.

“From the MPs?” he asked in consideration. His other hand ran through his undercut.

“We’ll need their assistance here.”

You braced yourself for his inevitable criticism, which came swiftly.

“So you went over my head.” You frowned with a huff. You crossed one leg over the other, shifting your collection of important documents as you did.

“I thought you’d be pleased to have the interaction taken off your docket.”

The two of you sat with eyes locked. The room sat still as Levi analyzed you. A vein in his forehead twitched. His glare was as scathing as ever.

“Let me be the judge of that next time.” His harsh words cut through the palpable tension in the air. The tension in his brow softened for the slightest second. You were too busy writing to notice. “I don’t want you meeting with Thatch without me.”

You didn’t even acknowledge him. You penned something down instead, making a minor adjustment to the plan in your lap before you turned it over to Levi. You flung it over his desk, and the page landed upside down in front of him. You leaned back in your seat.

“Does this work for your calendar?” He gave it a quick once over, flicking it back towards you. The neatly inked page fell off the edge of the desk.

“Why are you asking me? You’ve clearly gone through my schedule, you little creep.” You couldn’t help the scowl that contorted your face. Levi’s features were just as severe.

“Do you want me to consult you or not? Make up your goddamn mind.” Your nose wrinkled in displeasure. Levi searched one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out a familiar folder. It looked more worn than when you last saw it. He took it in two hands and let it fall onto the desk with a smack.

“I’ve already gotten my end of things done. I expect us to be able to move forward in a timely manner.” Levi smacked it toward you. The beefy file spun towards the edge of the desk. You barely caught it in time before the filled-out pages began to spill out. You matched his glare as you stood.

“You’re insufferable,” you spat.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

***

You deliberated for the days that followed.

Between your normal duties as Squad Leader, you funneled your efforts toward your project with Levi. Although, you considered that the measure had more to do with your mounting annoyance than your actual work ethic.

The hours you spent working overtime were proportionate to the amount of Levi’s hostile indifference you had to put up with on any given day. Each errand run outside headquarters was an excuse to cool down. Even if sending a new recruit for a signature was easier, you jumped at the opportunity to deliver clerical work personally. Levi didn’t have to know. Thatch was thrilled, to say the least.

For what it was worth, Levi at least got his work to you on time and with little fuss. Although you hoped the process would’ve been more collaborative, you appreciated being able to throw things together independently, no matter the strain.

You hurried down the hallway. The low heels of your boots clicked on the tile, producing a haphazard rhythm as you muttered apologies to startled cadets. You glanced at your watch, almost slamming into another cadet as you did. You exclaimed another rushed apology as you made a beeline for your office. You were already ten minutes late.

You slammed open the door.

“I’m so sorry, Thatch!”

Thatch turned in his chair, surprised by your sudden and violent entrance. You made for your desk, trailing papers as you did.

“Let me help you with that.”

Thatch was quick to stand. He scooped up the papers closest to him as he made his way toward the entrance. Luckily, the trail of important documents only extended to just a foot outside the doorway. You plopped the large crate of files on your desk and pushed it forward with your hip bone. Thatch glanced behind himself as you did, slowly closing the door and locking it.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to haul this thing all the way from the basement,” you panted. You steadied your hands on your knees—the ache of your efforts seared through the muscles of your legs and buttocks. Thatch approached you, smoothing out the loose papers in his hands. He held them out to you, eyes glued on your backside. You took them from him when you caught your breath and fanned yourself. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he laughed. You hummed as you took another look at your watch. You offered him a contrite look.

“Captain Levi should be here any moment. He had a meeting that overlaps with us, but—”

“Ah, he didn’t tell you? Captain Levi won’t be joining us today.”

You pursed your lips in confusion, tilting your head to the side as you continued to unpack the crate you had just pulled from records. Your eyes flickered to the neatly drawn schedule at your desk's edge.

“Oh…” That was all you said, your brows still furrowed.

You wished Levi would have told you that earlier. The whole point of holding the meeting in your office was so Levi wouldn’t make a fuss about the commute. You sighed. Well, there goes your excuse to get out of headquarters for the day.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “I suppose we can just go over things, and I can fill him in later.” You hardly spared any attention toward Thatch, overwhelmed by the mountain of administrative work you had hoped you would’ve had a chance to sort out before Thatch arrived.

A wide, wooden shelf sat on the wall next to your desk. Each landing was filled to the brim with neatly labeled binders. A black binder dated two days back sat on the top shelf. You strained yourself to reach it.

“Here, I got it.”

Before you could even think, Thatch came up directly behind you. He caged you in as he plucked out the binder. One arm clutched the lower shelf by your shoulder, and the other held the bundle of neat papers, casting a shadow over your face. He positioned a foot next to yours as he leaned forward to look at your shocked face. Thatch’s chest made flush contact with your back.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help myself anymore.” You instinctively moved to pull away, but Thatch pinned one of your wrists to the shelf’s frame. The binder clattered to the floor. You felt a hand slide into the back pocket of your uniform pants. That was enough to set you off. “I told myself the next time you were in my office when we were alone; I would—.”

“Get off me,” you demanded, a shiver coursing through your spine. Thatch’s eyes widened in confusion. Shock filled your system as you processed your situation. His hand felt clammy wrapped around you. You assessed your options. “Thatch.” His name was spoken in warning.

With the slightest bit of hesitation, his grip on you loosened for a second. You took the opportunity to whirl around as you delivered a swift blow straight to his face. His hand flew straight to his nose as Thatch stumbled back to lean against your desk as you quickly composed yourself.

He stared at you with wild eyes. His trembling fingers lowered to reveal a disfigured and bloody nose. Thatch touched the blood pouring down his upper lip, smoothing it between his fingertips to convince himself of what had just happened. He ground his teeth.

“You little bitch… You think leading me on is funny, huh?”

You groped at the wall of books and files behind you, hurling one at Thatch as you made a break for the door. Papers flew around you as you tried to flee, but a large hand seized the back of your jacket. Thatch threw you to the ground, your head hitting the leg of the chair in front of your desk as you went down. You cried out a guttural sound of frustration and pain as Thatch continued to rage over you.

And in a blur of adrenaline and discombobulation, you heard a creak, muffled footsteps, and a hard smack.

You scrambled away, sitting on your office carpet as you held your arms up defensively. But no harm ever came to you.

Thatch clutched his head, holding onto your desk as he struggled to his feet. A bright, red blood stain smeared the side of your work area from where Levi had forced Thatch’s face. Thatch made a lunge for Levi as soon as he picked himself up. In his rage, you assumed he just wanted to take his anger out on anyone.

Levi made short work of him. Thatch never even landed a hit. By the time you rose off the floor, Levi was standing over Thatch, kicking and elbowing him mercilessly over and over into your desk. Blood splattered across your office. Levi took him by the hair, slamming his face into the side of the wood.

He had left the door open when he barged in. The loose hinges caused it to rasp open. Cadets and other soldiers gathered in the hall outside your door, gawking as Levi brutalized a Military Police captain. They flinched with hands over open mouths as Thatch’s bellows and whimpers filled the hall. You stalked over to the open door, causing a few passing soldiers to recoil physically.

You stood in the doorway as the violence continued behind you, your entire face stark.

“Someone call security!” you barked. A few people scrambled off to do as they were told. The leftover audience averted their eyes, some scrambling off to not get caught spectating.

You closed the door halfway as you turned back to Levi and Thatch.

“Levi,” you said in a quiet voice. You didn’t know if he had heard you.

He held Thatch’s battered face by his hair, bringing his ear close to his lips.

“Don’t fuck with the Scouts.” Levi threw Thatch down again, giving him one last kick. “Learn to keep your dirty mitts off my comrades, you filthy pig.” Levi stormed over to you with a fury in his eyes that you had rarely seen. He collected you, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket and out the door. “We’re leaving.”

The crowd outside completely dissipated as soon as they saw Levi. They leaped out of his way as they scattered throughout the wing. Just three steps out of your office and the hall had completely emptied.

“Levi—”

“Shut up.”

He dragged you across the polished tile. A mop and bucket sat abandoned in the middle of the wing. You yanked yourself out of his grip, staggering backward. You wouldn’t be manhandled by Thatch, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let Levi do the same. You glanced back toward your office and then to where Levi burned with ire.

“What the hell was—”

—“No.” He cut you off sternly, coming up just a foot from your face. Levi continued to blaze with barely restrained rage. “What the hell did you think you were doing? I told you no meeting with Thatch without me. I thought I made myself clear, or are you just stupid?”

“The hell? You were—!”

“But no, you had to slink around with the massive creep under ten different investigations for being a massive fucking creep.” Your poised lips froze. You didn’t know that. Levi could read as much in your expression, and you could see the vexation in his dark irises. He continued to fume. “Maybe when I say shit to you, you should, I don’t know, listen because maybe you don’t know every fucking thing.” Levi jabbed you on the shoulder, and you smacked his hand away in disgust.

“How was I supposed to know you would back out last minute? You agreed to come to the meeting!” you shouted, and the hall went completely silent. Levi’s expression remained unreadable. He drew back.

“What?”

“That’s what—” The words you were about to say died on your lips. You stared deep into Levi’s expression. A horrific realization dawned on you, a realization that he figured out just before you. “That’s what… Thatch told me.” Levi rolled his eyes. You didn’t notice their appearance soften.

“C’mon, let’s go.” The clutch on your elbow was more gentle than you expected.

“Where are we going?”

“The infirmary, dumbass,” Levi scoffed. “You hit your head hard as hell.” He didn’t even look at you as he led the way down the hall.

You didn’t put up a fight this time. He escorted you to the infirmary, gave the nurse a brief explanation of what happened (leaving out the details), and left soon after that. As you sat through your testing, you replayed the imagery of Levi’s rage, which seared into your mind.

***

Thatch was suspended indefinitely and was later stripped of his rank.

Levi fell under investigation.

You were called in to answer questions in front of Commander Erwin and Premier Darius Zachary, among others. Apparently, the audience you had the day Thatch decided to act up in your office was enough to whip the military into a tizzy. Because of their mutual ranks and the publicity of the stunt, Levi also faced suspension, no matter how unfair you found it.

You waited outside of the hearing room with anxiety pounding in your chest. If anything lucky came out of the situation, it was that Levi hadn’t been put on a formal trial. After collecting testimony from you and several other witnesses, it was up to the military leadership to decide Levi’s fate. It gave you hope to think you had a little power over how they perceived Levi’s actions through your retelling. Not to mention, you were sure that Erwin had a plan to back up his right hand.

He had told you not to worry earlier. It didn’t do much for your nerves.

You shot up the moment the doors opened. Several of your uniformed superiors trickled out of the room. It only took you a few seconds to spot Levi. He stood by Erwin’s side as the commander exchanged a few last words with Premier Zachary. You stood off to the side a ways away, just outside a tucked-off part of the corridor, not wanting to make a spectacle. They spotted you at the same time. Levi tore off from the Scout’s commander, approaching you. His expression was as indifferent as ever.

“So?” you asked, pulling him around the corner. You pressed your index finger across the length of your lip in anticipation. “What did they say?” Levi sighed and shrugged.

“A slap on the wrist. Luckily nothing more, thanks to Erwin.” He glanced towards the slowly dispersing group of military leaders. Levi stood with his arms crossed with an almost pensive look to him. He quirked a brow at you. You must’ve been staring. “Is that all?”

You paused, thrown off by the question.

“I’m just sorry you had to go through all of this,” you admitted. “And I never thanked you for rescuing me.” You had more to say. You had questions, but for now, especially with Levi fresh from his hearing, you thought it best to keep your comments brief.

“I would have done it for anyone,” he scoffed with a notable shift in his demeanor. His words were true, but something about how he said them wasn’t quite believable. It made you think back to what Erwin had told you.

“I know… I, just, uh…” Levi studied you with dark, stoic eyes as you pondered to yourself. He noticed you pause, wondering what thoughts ran through your mind.

You decided to take a chance, casting your gaze downward as you closed the space between you. You raised a hand gingerly as your attention darted across Levi’s face. He didn’t recoil and continued to observe you carefully instead, letting you caress his firm jaw. His skin's natural texture felt warm under your fingers' pads. In a moment absent of thoughts, you pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. You pulled away.

“The hell was that?” he asked, but his voice was devoid of bite in contrast to the nature of his words. You could’ve sworn you saw the undertone of Levi’s face grow increasingly pinker. You laughed, much to his disdain, something sentimental overtaking you.

“Maybe I should listen to Erwin more often.”

“You should already be listening to me, Squad Leader.” Erwin rounded the corner. He huffed, shaking his head as he reeled from the hearing. Despite meandering discourse being a significant part of his job as commander, even Erwin wasn’t immune to the occasional burnout. “I’m confident that the two of you have taken the time to talk about how you’ll be moving forward without Captain Thatch.”

“Yes, sir,” you responded, much to Levi’s surprise.

“Wonderful.” Erwin nodded between the two of you. “It’s good to see the two of you getting along.” You hummed in agreement, and with a last once-over, Erwin made for the stairwell directly behind him. “Come now, Levi. Plenty of other things to attend to, given that your rank has remained intact.”

Levi glanced at you. You met his concerned expression with a shrug.

“We’ll talk about it later. Your office.”

You turned on your heel to leave, and Levi followed after Erwin.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Poor Reader, turns out having the only broken doorknob in the whole military really paid off this time. I read this to my boyfriend and I was like DID YOU GET IT??? DID YOU GET THE DOORKNOB THING????

The way this TOOK FOREVER, but I really enjoyed the new writing style. DON’T FUCK WITH THE SCOUTS 😤

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