1: A Fresh Start

This is a rewrite of a previous work with the same name, both written by me. This version is starkly different than its predecessor.

As the tags suggest, there are possessive themes and occasional acts of physical aggression. Exercise caution around traits like these in the real world. This is purely fiction.

This fic does not portray Levi's canonical personality. It exaggerates his callousness, aggression, and adds possessive behavior to his character.

Hope you enjoy!

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They're cold.

His eyes are so cold.

You've been locked in contact with them for what has felt like an eternity, and not once have they lessened their relentless stare. Even as he speaks to the history department head beside you, he keeps his hateful focus solely on you. It's crushing, and you're just barely finding the courage to maintain this stare you've been compelled to keep. 

"Actually, Levi, I'd like to get her involved in the literature department." To your left, the voice of Erwin Smith is the only source of strength fueling your confidence. He speaks smoothly and warmly, flooding the icy room with the barest layer of amiability. 

"Since when do we pass around interns?" Levi's tone is as cold as his eyes and his office, yet his words are ironically quite scathing. If only that fierce heat could transfer into pleasant warmth. "They don't stick around long enough to bother."

"She will, I'm sure of it." Erwin's determined your character long before this conversation had begun, and he proudly boasts your skill to your potential mentor. "I don't want to pass up this opportunity. We've got our hands on one of the most incredible students, and perhaps one of the most incredible professors we've seen in a long time. She clearly excels in literature and I don't want her internship wasted in my department."

You would never complain, but truthfully it wasn't that beneficial to be in the history department as a literature major. Your passion was literature, and even though Dr. Erwin Smith is a fantastic mentor with plenty of knowledge to glean from, his specialty simply doesn't align with yours. The offer from him to transfer you to the literature department was quite welcome, though you're starting to regret your enthusiasm about it as you examine the stoic department head. He seems far less pleasant than Erwin.

Levi Ackerman sits behind his marble desk safely, his frame small but his aura massive. His office is an unfeeling lair that swallows any trespasser whole, and Erwin is the single torch of light illuminating your circle of safety within. You've yet to leave the side of your current mentor, completely letting him steer the conversation you're too hesitant to enter into. 

"What does Dhalis have to say about this?" Levi asks.

"Dean Dhalis Zachary was the one that accepted her application. He's well aware of her goal at Paradis." Erwin can reply easily to Levi, and swiftly. He meets—or perhaps exceeds—Levi's wit, and he'll utilize his armory of persuasion to convince his colleague to accept you. 

"And what's that?"

"What's what?"

"Her goal. What's she doing here?"

That question feels directed at you, but you don't have a chance to think before Erwin answers in your stead. "She's doing an internship, Levi. To improve her academic abilities and prepare her for a potential position as a professor."

"A professor here?"

"Perhaps. If not here, then wherever her talents would best be suited."

"Hm." Levi keeps his arms tightly folded, hiding how furiously he's constructing thoughts regarding this sudden presence. 

"It's up to you," Erwin says yieldingly. "I can't force you."

"But you certainly want me to," Levi grumbles.

"Yes, I do. A literature major needs to be in the literature department."

Levi's been glaring at you this whole time, but only now does he indicate he wants a dialogue with you by giving a brief nod in your direction. "Oi. What's your name?"

Your body freezes from this question alone, feeling as though icicles have struck your heart. You swallow thickly, forcing down the terror his eyes are eliciting. Eventually, your full name is uttered clearly by you, your lips scrapping together enough strength to break out of their petrification and speak.

Your interrogator gives no reaction to your name, and after a brief moment he flicks his eyes over to Erwin. A heavy weight lifts from your shoulders, the freedom of not being the victim of his attention more liberating than you were expecting.

"Fine," Levi rasps. "I'll take her."

"Fantastic," Erwin hums, a weight seeming to leave his shoulders, too. "Then I'll transfer her to your department. I trust you can handle the rest?"

"Yes." Levi's shortening his sentences, now anxious to get the nuisance out of his office. 

"Good." Erwin puts a broad hand on your shoulder, transferring the last of his warmth and strength. "Are you ready for this transition?" he asks to you.

"Yeah," you answer. "Yes. I'm looking forward to it."

"Then I'll leave you with him." Erwin steps away, turning his back on his ex-intern. "Enjoy yourself. Levi's a competent leader to learn from."

You don't turn to watch him leave, only using the sound of his footsteps followed by the door opening and closing as an indication of his exit. The room completely drains of any solace now that Erwin has left, an oppressing cloud of dread pervading the air instead. 

Levi's back to staring at you as his slender fingers snatch up a pen from his desk. He taps it absentmindedly to a sheet of paper as he drinks you in, then lets out a quiet sigh as he returns his focus to his work. 

You stand stupidly in the middle of his office, a little perplexed as to what to do next. You don't want to be the one to initiate conversation, but he seems far less inclined than you are. "Um, Dr. Ackerman—"

"Levi. My name is Levi." He's a master of devoting his attention to only one subject at a time, that subject at first being you but now being the paperwork before him. He doesn't look up once, only writing and speaking as though you're on the back of his mind. 

"Right. Levi. Um, is there something I need to do to get initiated?"

"No." He keeps writing. 

Um.

You purse your lips, completely at a loss. He's not making it easy to communicate effectively. "Then...what would you like me to do?" 

He scowls as though that's the most ridiculous question he's ever been asked. The tip of his pen is tapped into the paper with several irritated strikes, then its body is slammed onto the countertop. His desk seems to shake with how fiercely he yanks open one of its drawers, its contents invaded by his frisking fingers. "Here," he utters as he retrieves a thin stack of papers. "Do you know how to operate a copier?"

"I—" His question is so absurd, you're frankly too startled to answer it easily. Everybody knows how to operate a damn copier. Even, if by some unfortunate history, you weren't made familiar with the machine, the four weeks you spent under Erwin Smith would have likely taught you that skill eventually. "Yes," you say. "I know how to use a copier."

"Two hundred copies." He slams the stack on his desk, sliding it to your edge. "Collated. Stapled."

"Um, alright." This menial chore isn't quite part of your expectations as an intern, but you're hesitant about defying him. Perhaps it's a small hazing ritual, or just an aggressive start to your internship to see if you can handle it. You digress, and take the stack. 

"Go," he barks. "Be quick. Bring them back when you're done."

You hold the papers close to your chest, protecting yourself from his barrage of piercing orders. "Okay." Your heels seem to turn for you to urge your body out of the room, your feet helping the effort soon after.

The hum of the clunky copying machine is lulling to your mind, and the break room you've found it in is devoid of professors and gives complete privacy to its lone occupant. You work mechanically to retrieve copies, pinching the sheets out of the machine's mouth and sorting them into small piles, then stapling each one precisely. Your new mentor already exudes the oppressing aura of a rigid instructor, and you figure you should adhere to his picky methods before he's even explained them. 

Best to get the jump on him. Being an overachiever might appear a bit prudish, but it's necessary to excel at Paradis University. 

The prestigious university was a nightmare to get an internship with, but it was well worth it. Paradis stands as the most well-regarded university in the nation, and its accolades have attracted you to it since the start of your academic career—even before then. You don't attend as a student—no, you're a student of Einrich College. Still impressive, but not quite as remarkable as the university you scored an internship with. Being an intern of Paradis is likely to be just as fruitful as being a student, and you've thoroughly enjoyed the short time you've been here.

It's been four weeks since the start of the fall semester, and the start of your internship under Dr. Erwin Smith, the head of the Paradis history department. He had been an incredible guide and mentor for your studies, but truthfully he couldn't offer much to boost your major. His specialty was history, not literature. A part of you even toyed with the idea of switching to becoming a history major purely to follow in Erwin's footsteps, but you dismissed the notion quickly. You're devoted to literature, and you're too far along in your studies to change now. The last year of your master's degree program would not offer a lot of leniency in switching interests at this point. 

Two hundred copies are successfully printed, and the exhausted copier machine seems to sigh as its fan whirs to life. The fresh papers are warm under your palm, and the stack is thick with stapled sets of work. They're regarding a poetry assignment for some literature class, and the content on them is already far more enjoyable to skim than Erwin's history paperwork. It'll be nice to finally thrive in the department correlated to your major, you think. 

You return to Levi's office promptly, hugging the stack close to your chest. You open the door without another thought, about to announce your return.

"Out," Levi barks from his seat, already glaring.

You freeze in the doorway. "Um, what?"

"Get out. You do not enter my office without knocking, and only after you've received permission to come in. Get out and try again." 

Dumbfounded, you take a reactive step back. "But I'm here now—"

"Don't make me ask again. You won't be permitted entry until you request it properly." His words are absolutely unforgiving, scathing orders that bypass your tolerance levels swiftly. Your mind burns with frustrated irritation as this haughty beast tears you apart immediately. "Now. Get. Out."

You feel forced out by his words more than of your own body's volition, suddenly standing in front of the door you've closed in your own face. You're motionless for several moments, fully debating just stepping away from the office and going anywhere else. 

You can't do it, though. Bailing on a mentor an hour in just because he's a bit harsh? Retreat now would be weak. You can handle it. 

So, you knock. "It's me," you roleplay, shoving down the embarrassment of running through this pointless routine. 

There's no reply. He's not responding to your call, cruelly so. He'll drag out this lesson as long as he wants. 

"You may come in," he finally allows. 

Swallowing your pride, you reenter his office with far less exuberance. "Thank you, Levi," you say obsequiously, shutting the door behind you.

He's still invested in his own work, skimming papers and scribbling small notes. "Papers," he requests, pointing his pen at the corner of his desk. 

You cross to the marble table and place the stack delicately, keeping its contents aligned and in order. "The content of these assignments is interesting," you remark halfheartedly, trying to make innocent conversation. "Are your students studying French literature right now?"

Levi doesn't answer that. He sets aside his current work and retrieves a different paper, finishing up a few lines at its base. A flourish of pen strokes concludes his writing as he signs the sheet, followed by a deep sigh from the signer. "I'm transferring you to Nanaba. She's my most experienced literature professor, and she has the most freedom to take on an intern."

Heavenly choruses ring in your ears at his words. Anyone besides this insufferable tyrant is preferable; you didn't even think you'd be blessed with such luxury in the first place. He doesn't seem to want you just as much as you don't want him, and he's quick to rid himself of the nuisance. You won't complain. He can detest you all he wants if it means you get the freedom to intern under somebody else.

"Okay," you answer flatly, hiding your relief. "Thank you for helping me get settled in the literature department."

"She's in the Yarckel building—you know where that is?" Levi glances up at you, searching your expression. 

"Yes, of course." You might not be a student of Paradis, but you've done enough research—or reconnaissance—to know each and every crucial building. 

"Her office is on the third story. You'll find it eventually." Levi thrusts the paper he just signed towards you. It's a transfer request, detailing the shift of your instruction from Erwin to Nanaba. "Take it, and go. Erwin will give your application papers to me, and I'll eventually deliver them to her."

"Sounds good." It's much easier to talk to this menace when he's describing your escape from his grasp. You take the sheet, looking over its contents. "Thank you for sorting this out, Levi. I'm excited to work in the literature department." 

"That's all you need from me. Go." He resumes his writing, finished with you.

"Okay. Have a good afternoon." You about-face with plenty of pep in your step, almost too excited to leave the lion behind. 

Nanaba's office is significantly smaller than Levi's, but it's far cozier. You're allowed in after knocking, already greeted by a sincere smile. The room doesn't permit space for much more than a large desk with two seats in front of it, but she's managed to cram in a bookshelf filled with textbooks and small trinkets. 

"Hello," she says, stationed professionally behind her desk. "I'm sorry, are you from one of my lecture classes? Can I get your name?"

"Oh, no. Um, actually, I'm an intern." It's so easy to talk to her, normally as easy as anyone else but now made far more pleasant after dealing with the icy monster you just left behind. You give your name as you extend the signed paper to her. "I was told to transfer to you. Is...that okay?"

"Of course," she says before even reading the sheet. Skimming it, her eyebrows raise in surprise. "You're transferring from Erwin? Wouldn't you rather intern under a department head?" 

You shake your head. "Not entirely. Dr. Smith is wonderful, but I'd rather direct my interests to literature, not history." 

"Got it." She nods as she sets down the paper, then gestures to one of the two chairs across from her. "Well, take a seat. We've got some time before my next class, so let's sort out what duties work best for you."

"That sounds wonderful," you answer dreamily, completely soothed by her encouragement much like Erwin had garnered several weeks prior. 

Nanaba thoughtfully discusses your career path with you, and how best to pursue it under her instruction. She suggests shadowing her for a few days, then conducting an evaluation of your progress and considering giving jurisdiction of her classes to you. It sounds perfect: well-coordinated, ambitious but not overzealous, and a surefire way to make your talent thrive. Your time in the literature department will be fruitful, and you have to give just a small mental thanks to Levi Ackerman for being too resistant about mentoring you. Nanaba will be better, in the end.