A/N: Originally written for Day 5 (Theme: *SMUT DAY* [B. Functio Laesa / Loss of Function]) of RivaMikaWeek in February 2014. Also, FF doesn't seem to support strikethrough text which is important for this fic, so I'm using brackets [] instead to indicate any "crossed-out" parts...

Rhapsodies in Blue

Summary: Levi finds a journal of fantasies – and every entry is about him. RivaMika.

Everything started on a Tuesday afternoon.

It had been the most uneventful of days, with the dull chatter of soldiers entwined between mundane meetings, each led by superiors Levi could barely remember the names or faces of. In the four years since his new squad's initial formation, they had moved from safe house to safe house before finally ending up within the inner walls again, now settled in their own private barracks to prepare for whatever missions still rested ahead. Humanity had finally made great strides towards victory in the past few months – with much unspoken credit to his team's work – and Levi knew that soon, their services might no longer be required. Perhaps the timing was just as well, since several of his team members were now undergoing training to become squad leaders themselves. Before long, they were likely to part ways with him using little more than vacant words of farewell.

The nature of this supposed conclusion to an ancient struggle never ceased to surprise him. Rather than the epic, bloody battles that had been expected for centuries, the advent of science – and Hanji - ended up shifting the fight in their favor via concoctions and syringes. As a result, the various mechanisms of 3DMG now hung upon aged walls with more permanence than ever before. And as he strolled aimlessly through his camp's corridors, Levi could only wonder where his personal journey would continue after the finale of the Titan era actually commenced. For now, he was jaded, uninspired – and completely bored out of his mind.

His footsteps possessed their usual rhythm as he finally turned in the direction of the kitchen, stirred by the abrupt thought that a strong cup of tea always remedied against growing anxieties. As he turned the next corner, however, an object resting arbitrarily to the left side caught his attention. The shape and surface were most familiar, and when he moved closer, he recognized it as the standard journal usually kept by all soldiers under high command, with its brown leather cover tediously protecting all the riddles within layers of yellowed parchment.

Which careless idiot of mine dropped something as important as this? Levi felt his forehead wrinkle at the thought of such incompetence. These personal journals were usually treated with utmost privacy and care, for within their pages soldiers were permitted to divulge any honest grievances – making them some of the few valued outlets for free speech in their restrictive world.

Retrieving the book, he noted that no hints of the owner's identity had been visibly etched anywhere on the surface. With an exasperated sigh, he continued towards his original destination, all the while thumbing through random pages in hopes of finding a name scribbled somewhere in the corners.

On instinct, his eyes skimmed from paragraph to paragraph without much consideration for the actual contents. There was little guilt on his part – after all, he was not actually consuming any private details that may have been exposed within. And if any information were sensitive, surely the anonymous owner would've concealed the journal better, rather than leave it abandoned on the ground.

The more he perceived in haste, the more Levi began to actually admire the almost artisan quality of the penmanship, for every curve and stroke was inked with as much delicacy as the parchment itself contained. And even without anything to guide the horizontal alignment, letters flanked one another in perfect form, never straying from their imagined calibration. Yet despite all the earlier intricacies, he also discovered scribbled lines crossing haphazardly through certain phrases, many of which appeared in the most recent set of entries. Unable to suppress his curiosity about the style inconsistency, his eyes fell upon a particular instance before starting a more thorough perusal.

Even if he can be so insufferable, sometimes I still wonder how it would feel to have him [tie up my wrists] blindfold me with that damn cravat of his [and fuck me until dawn].

He slammed the journal shut immediately, but not before his entire supply of blood rushed from the rest of his body to his groin.

What. The. Fuck.

As soon as Levi stepped back within his office, plans to acquire tea completely forfeited, he leaned against the door and condemned his own curiosity. The gallops of his racing mind strode away from the document revisions for his evening meeting with Garrison representatives. Only that plague of a sentence played over and over like a broken record, narrated by a random voice his brain conjured up from places unknown.

Dashing over to his desk, he slammed down the scandalous find with sufficient force before falling into his chair at a similar momentum. Both elbows immediately propped upon the wooden surface, while his fingers linked ahead of his mouth in a gesture of contemplation. Despite the harsh treatment, the journal rested in absolute silence, taunting him more and more with every second that ticked by on his desk clock. Never had he felt so perturbed and stimulated at the same time, yet he knew turning through those pages again would be akin to unleashing a hellhole of massive proportions.

Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen enough hellholes already in this lifetime.

Soon, his left hand nudged forward, gripping the protruding edge of the leather before overturning it with caution. I will find out who you are, starting from the beginning. Levi assured himself inwardly as he flipped open to the initial written portions.

Fifteen minutes later, he realized that nothing from the earlier, innocent entries betrayed the identity of the writer, for the contents all contained descriptions of general thoughts rather than specific events or people. Whoever this was had strategically planned the writings so there would be concrete protection in case the journal was ever lost. Well, I will give them credit for that much.

There were no dates jotted anywhere, giving little sense of the author's imagined timeline. A single number assumed the title preceding each group of words, going from #1 in the beginning to the most recent #78. A quick inspection concluded that everything from about #42 to the end was comprised of the suggestive material he had encountered, and so Levi took the deepest breath of his life before venturing into those territories again, determined to only read a few more singular sentences from select entries – and only in hopes of finally uncovering some details about the writer.

#47

…his fingers bruise my hips mercilessly as we move faster and faster, sending both of us swinging like a single pendulum as we continue to dangle in the air. But the threats of our harnesses or the tree branch snapping are not even at the forefront of our minds, because…

#53

…He is Humanity's Strongest Soldier, but tonight he proves to me why he is also Humanity's Greatest Lover. He starts with…

#69

…Into my ear he whispers, with perfect French, "la petite mort" as he baptizes me with that very little death…

"Shit." He threw the damning journal across his desk and slapped a palm upon his face, making a final attempt at curbing all desires of further investigation.

Mere seconds later, however, the same hand grabbed for the journal again.

"Shit, shit, shit." How many numbers are between 42 and 78?

It was going to be a long night.

Captain…

Fuck me, captain…

"Captain…"

"Captain!"

"Huh?" Levi shook his head at last, finally giving response to the resounding call.

Across from his seat, Mikasa Ackerman pointed towards his tray with her spoon. "Your cup is overflowing."

Looking down, he finally identified the flood of amber liquid emerging from the rim, courtesy of the teapot he still held at a precarious angle. "Oh shit."

Even with that realization, Levi's fatigued brain barely registered that he was now at the breakfast table, attempting to fill an already half-full cup with an entire second serving of tea. Somehow during the previous evening, he had successfully appraised all 37 of the fantasies without giving into any personal urges, but the vivid details within each entry accompanied him deep into the night, haunting him into doing little other than toss and turn until dawn.

"Here is a towel, sir." Connie extended assistance from his left, and he accepted with a nod.

As he vigorously collected the spreading liquid and wiped down any leftover stains, he could sense the multiple pairs of eyes watching him with worry and suspicion. But he paid the extra attention no mind, for he knew only further questions would arise if his team noticed how much more severe his dark circles were this morning.

"Thank you, Connie." He cleared his throat to feign recovery of his composure before changing the topic. "How is squad leader training going for some of you? Has Erwin told enough scary stories yet?"

"None that have disturbed me." Jean was the first to answer from the far end.

"Or me." Sasha echoed.

"I wouldn't have thought any less." He said with some boredom. The distraction tactic must've worked to some degree, for by the time he finished his statement, most of the table had already returned to devouring their breakfast instead of focusing on his earlier blunder.

The grey eyes at closest proximity to him, however, were persistent with their focus.

"What?" He questioned as he lifted his teacup slowly to his mouth, taking care to not spill its contents any further.

"Captain…" The young woman questioned under her breath. "Are you alright?"

Fuck me, Captain… Levi nearly choked on his tea but swallowed hard instead. "I'm…I'm fine." Though there was a stammer, he ensured that the look in his eyes contained its usual nonchalance and confidence. "Why do you ask?"

"Your face has been flushed red since you sat down." Even though the observation sounded disturbing, Levi still felt relief that Mikasa continued their conversation as discreetly as possible. "I've…never seen that before."

Before he invented an excuse she suddenly reached towards him, placing her hand's backside against his forehead to check its temperature. So much for discreet. He grumbled inside. However, even as he peeked around them, no one seemed to regard the action as unusual.

Do they actually think this is a normal interaction between the two of us? He nearly scoffed, but as his eyes returned to meet hers, he was almost rendered immobile by how focused she appeared towards his well-being. Only after a long while did she retrieve her hand, though her brows still furrowed with concern.

"Well, you don't seem to have a fever." Her voice expressed genuine puzzlement towards his condition. "But make sure to tell one of us if something doesn't feel right."

Taking a deep bite into his bread, Levi grunted his agreement. As he watched her return to conversation with Sasha, however, he couldn't help but wonder. Could she be…?

The counter argument surfaced immediately, propelling his entire thought process into some actual movement again.

No, no. Mikasa is too focused on serious matters, while Sasha is the opposite as she seems constantly distracted. That little Krista…well, the damn shifter is the factor there. But who else…? Could it be a male? His brows raised with interest at the notion, but he disproved it immediately once he recalled some very detail-specific lines, particularly one near the middle of the 54th entry.

His hands cup both my breasts tenderly, savoring the weight of each in his grasp. The rough tips of those fingers tease each nipple in ways that always drive me wild, and…

For some reason, his gaze fell lower until it landed upon Mikasa's bust, the arc of which protruded alluringly against the taut fabric of her button-down. The visual of his hands running over her curves drove hormones berserk at a moment's notice, but before anything went beyond limits, Levi excused himself, marching from the room with much larger strides than usual. The abrupt action, coupled with the bizarreness of his previous behavior, would surely be a topic of gossip for the rest of the day, but he couldn't care less. At the moment, what was pertinent was that he stopped attributing assumed identities to the journal's author, for if he did it again, he would certainly lose his renowned self-control long before he intended.

Once he exited the dining area, another peculiar observation surfaced.

I even have parts of that damn journal memorized already?

Fuck.

The rest of his day would have maintained its usual tedium - had it not been for the countless times those cursed sentences randomly popped into his head. By mid-afternoon, Levi lost track of the number of instances where he had to excuse himself from a conference or a conversation, as well as the number of people who had approached him with well-wishes to his health.

"Wow, everyone said you were really ill." Hanji finally mentioned during their first joint meeting of the day, also his last overall. "But you seem…fine and functional?"

"I'm fine." He assured for the millionth time, arms crossed in a stubborn fashion.

But when Mikasa entered the same room ten seconds later as a fellow meeting participant, he stood up at a moment's notice and fumbled to gather all his documents in hand. A few manufactured coughs from his throat later, he was on his way out - even if he knew Hanji was not one to be easily fooled.

"Never mind." He called when he sensed his colleague's eyes pursuing his departing figure. "I'm ill."

That night Levi took dinner in his private quarters, feigning the need to not spread whatever sickness he had to the masses. As he sat upon his couch with legs crossed, sipping his usual post-meal tea, he couldn't help but look in the direction of his desk, where the journal still rested within his vantage point.

Do not give in. He implored himself. Look at what it already did to you today alone.

Yet once he reached the last drop of the drink, his memory flashed back to this morning, when he had looked at a particular woman through a slightly different lens. Like the others, she took part in squad leader training, so even after years of successful missions together, soon even she would no longer be fighting by his side. The reminder served as a painful indication of his imminent loneliness, the cruelty of its blades slashing away at him at velocities more lethal than his own. And though he had always been accustomed to that reality, what had been written inside this journal were renewed, solid proofs of him being wanted, being needed – even in the context of an uncertain future.

Placing the teacup on the table, Levi stood and walked towards his desk. As strange as it might sound to anyone else, he was determined to find a sense of belonging in this imbalanced universe again, even if he had to accomplish such through the most forbidden of words.

Leaving the journal resting flat, he sought out a particular entry with one hand. He had read through it once already while half-asleep the previous night, but since it was also the first one he stumbled upon via that unexpected sentence, a desire to process the contents properly again had lingered throughout the earlier periods of the day.

Once he reached the right page, he immediately devoted his full attention to the written text.

#52

Even if he can be so insufferable, sometimes I still wonder how it would feel to have him [tie up my wrists] blindfold me with that damn cravat of his [and fuck me until dawn].

I imagine it beginning like so: By the time his final meeting of the day is over, I am already waiting in his bed, and I will dress in not be wearing a single thread.

When he enters, he will grin at the sight of me and lock the door behind him, and he will [run over to my side] take his sweet time to strip off everything one-by-one on his way over to my side. First his jacket, followed by those harnesses (Which always take far too long). Then, he will kick off his boots before undoing his belt and pants (Which of course he still leaves on). The last order of business is his shirt, but he only unfastens it from bottom to top. Once he gets to the last pair of buttons he is already next to the bed, and those wild blue eyes drink me in like I'm the most delectable [bottle of wine] cup of tea he has ever come across.

As he read through his own removal of clothing in detail, Levi felt one of his own hands shift towards his belt, as if wanting to emulate what had just been described. Before his brain even registered the action, thin leather already slid through the rectangle loop at the beckoning of his fingers, and soon the accessory separated, making way for his hand to continue working on whatever rested beneath.

Up top, his breaths deepened as he proceeded to imagine the naked body lying in wait for him. Prior to this week, it had been a while since he last thought of a woman in this manner, but the perfection that his mind summoned was one of lean muscle much like his own, and firm curves that arched in all the right places. He had sparred with many over the years, and he knew exactly whose figure he had always appreciated the most. But now, in this context – he dared not speak her name aloud.

He leans above me teasingly as he removes that damn cravat with ease (Personally, I will never understand how that knot works), and soon the fabric veils my eyes, leaving me in complete darkness. Once he reaches behind my head to secure it, I'm only able to sense his touch and his shadow from there on. But he knows that is what I prefer, and so he doesn't mind not witnessing the passion in my own eyes during whatever comes next.

By now, the button and zipper of his pants were both undone, providing much-needed relief for the bulge that had finally been allowed to grow to its full capacity after an entire day's restraints. Sweat materialized profusely from every pore, a surefire indication of his inability to endure the verses this second time around. With his other hand, Levi loosened his cravat and the top sets of shirt buttons, allowing cool air to breach through to his overheating skin.

The mattress squeaks as he climbs over me completely, legs spread in a kneeling position to trap my own. I can no longer see, so he guides my palm down the muscles of his torso before letting me steer the rest of the way. I [immediately move my fingers below his hip] run fingers playfully down his abs, enjoying the planes and dips of each section as the intricate pieces of artwork that they are. Soon, however, I move downward to where my actual intentions always lie.

The hand below snaked into his underwear, making contact with the sensitive, pulsing flesh that begged for release. As he read on, Levi pretended that it was no longer him performing the acts that followed. Instead, thinner, lither fingers – though no less strong – captured him, returning feelings of rapture that he had long forgotten.

With care I pull down his waistband, and even in the darkness my fingers can detect the pure heat radiating from his erection. As usual, I search for the lowest point first, gripping the delicate spheres there briefly before sliding two fingers up the center of his shaft's bottom side. The length causes the journey to be long and tormenting, and by the time I get to the wet tip, he buckles above me and gasps shuddering breaths against my neck.

Levi paused there and squeezed his eyes shut, for repeating the described action upon himself had the exact effect the author had designed. Only – unfortunately for him – there was no soft neck to bury his rapid breaths into.

My fingers wrap all around him next, collecting him in a gentle fist. That first slide upward causes him to moan the most delightful of sounds, and I can only smile because [he is now truly at my mercy] I know he only lets me catch him in such a state. Without the ability to see, the nerves on my palm can feel every vein with even more clarity, so on the returning journey I make sure my fingers give an additional rub to the most swollen ridges, because I know soon they will give me extra delight in return.

Back and forth I go, allowing my own breaths to coincide with the increasing rhythm. The faster I touch him, the louder he begins to groan my name - and the more I know I can reduce him to the most beautiful disaster.

In the reality of his room, Levi could hear the faint, slippery sounds of him pleasuring himself, while the rest of his body succumbed to the mounting sensations. Sweat dripped down the ends of his dark hair, eventually collecting around his shoulders or falling directly onto the floor. His own fist followed the entry's narrative as if it provided the most crucial instructions, though he still did not give into the temptation of groaning a particular name.

"Dammit..." His back bent further downward as his free hand clenched and began to pound upon the desk, causing the opened journal to almost bounce in place. "Fuck…"

Somehow, he managed to wrestle his eyes back to the page.

Just before the end arrives for him, I stop.

Fuck me, Captain. Is the only thing I whisper in response to his soft complaints.

He immediately finds the backs of my knees before hooking them upon his shoulders. Knowing my flexibility, he leans downward until his lips hover just above mine and my kneecaps practically touch my own cheeks.

Say it again, but use my name. He requests, and I can feel his tip teasing my entrance.

Fuck me, Levi…

As soon as I finish he begins to enter me, and as always, he already knows the exact angle that drives my lust into full throttle. Those ridges I tended to earlier now return the favor when they create delicious sparks against my clit, and my lack of sight only makes me appreciate the sensation tenfold. Before long he is pumping into me with vigor, lifting and lowering himself in an erotic ritual that draws out wretched moans from us both – oh Sina, oh Sina he feels so fucking good – my body even tries to twist away, to escape from this imminent explosion that would prove fatal to our willpowers, but I am still trapped in the delicious dark where directions are absolutely meaningless. I can only command myself to respond in that primal language of the flesh, murmuring lechery with the most enticing of squeezes whenever he thrusts. In retaliation, his lips invade every part of my neck and mouth, distracting me just enough to help prolong the arrival of my climax...

"Cap…tain…Captain…Levi…" At last, a single voice infiltrated Levi's thoughts as he envisioned it straining with his name in the midst of this sensual scene. Every time he buried himself to the hilt within her in his blissful delusion, the pitch rose just slightly more, until all that remained audible were squeaked whispers. The picture in his mind became more and more complete as ecstasy prepared its anticipated visit. His imagination finally started to evoke the small, rosy lips, the pale skin, the cravat crossing above a gently-pointed nose, and the pillow of silken hair in the same shade as his own. No longer could he read onward, for his eyes had squeezed shut, and his mind had begun to weave his own version of the tale.

"Fuck…" Springing hips threatened to completely lift off the chair with carnal force. "Mi…"

Another few seconds passed before Levi realized that he was not saying "me," but rather the beginning of her name. It was a name that had been gnawing at his mind since morning – or was it long before that? - and one he had come to venerate over the past four years. He had feared that indulging himself with these types of thoughts would desecrate their relationship, yet with the advent of such intense imageries, he knew he could not possibly replace her face with that of anyone else. There was the inevitability that he would be fed to Titans if she ever discovered him in this state, but Levi could no longer deny that even from the beginning, he had hoped that the journal had belonged to her - that she had privately thought of him in all these taboo ways, even when he never dared to.

"Mi…kasa…" His fist moved at unprecedented speed, trying to replicate the tightness he now wished to be hers.

"…Levi…ah! Fuck!"

He had no idea whether her notorious stoicism even rendered her capable of such severe curse words, but it no longer mattered. In his filthy imagination she revealed this most wanton side to him and him only, and he was a meager animal, relentlessly thirsting for such exceptional displays of her pleasure. Even if incapacitated by his cravat, she probably still knew that with just the slightest shift of a hip, she could take command between the sheets for as long as she wanted. Because there, intertwined within wrinkling cloths, he was no doubt just as blind, if not more so – a pitiful subordinate who saw nothing but the brilliance and beauty that was her.

For a final time, Levi forced opened one eye, and in his blurry, limited vision he caught a definitive line.

The bed quakes with the force of a tempest as he brings me to my demise. And when we reach that point of no return as one, our names pass through one another's lips like the most magnificent surrender.

"Levi… don't stop…don't…I'm…I'm…."

"Mikasa…Mikasa!"

Levi came with a roar that rivaled what he usually released during the most frenzied of battles, spilling his seed intermittently across the floor below his desk. For once, his mind thought nothing of the eventual clean up, for it was only filled with thoughts of velvet black hair, gray irises concealed by white fabric, and a sculpted body brought to shambles by him.

His breaths heaved with effort as he collapsed into his chair, clothes completely disheveled and hands covered in his own fluids. For once he almost laughed at the pathetic state, but the actual chuckle came when he noticed the journal still in its original spot, completely undisturbed by all the ruckus that had just taken place around it.

Very nice. Levi directed a mental message towards the stationary object, as if it were his newest friend. Let's do it again tomorr-

A succession of knocks interrupted his asinine schedule planning.

"You called, captain?" The voice that had just screamed his name in ecstasy sounded, and Levi could only wonder exactly how loud his own had been.

Well, shit.

[To Be Continued?]

A/N: /cackling/

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