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90ekz · 5 months

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“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

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bristocks · 7 months

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BABY BY ME

bd!connie x black!reader.

bd!connie who still support you and your baby boy by giving you money and putting food in yall house and clothes on his baby body cause yo new man can’t do it apparently.

bd!connie who babysit y’all son because he don’t “trust them folks” (your new man’s family) and “folks weird out here youon know what they can do to him and you!”

bd!connie who show up to all your sons birthday party and special events because he still cool w yo cousin. He still show up regardless of all the looks he get and the dirty look yo new man give him. That’s his son and “ain’t nobody finna stop me from seeing him eitha.”

bd!connie who make sure you unblock his number so you can get updated on when he available for you and y’all baby boy. New man? he don’t care..he can chill in yo house on the couch he payed for, the couch y’all conceited the baby on.

bd!connie who fight behind you and his son. Word get out that yo new man put his hands on you; connie nd his li crew 10 toes behind each other fighting bout you. Word get out he cheated on you? guess who there to comfort you and give you a lap nd shoulder to cry on. Connie. even tho y’all fell off before you gave birth he was still there, he tried his best to atleast support yalls baby with the little money he had while he was getting back on his feet. Now that he’s on his feet, he’s still supporting you AND your baby. he’s willing to try again if you let him show you he’s got better.

#aot x black reader #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot connie #connie springer #aot headcanons #aot oneshots #aot tumblr

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snoopyearss · 2 months

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you right

eren x female!reader

TW: Blunt outing on skin. (He doesn’t do it to the reader, but he does it on himself)

description: your relationship with jean was fine until you meat his friend eren. now all you could think about was him.

inspired by “You Right” by Doja Cat.

i suggest playing the following songs for the full experience: You Right (Extended Version) - Doja Cat (makes obvious sense; play this song first or throughout the story.), Work - Rihanna, Sativa - Jhene Aiko, Slow Down - Chase Atlantic and I Was Never There - The weeknd. There’s no order for the other songs.

Disclaimer: I DONT CONDONE CHEATINGGG!!! I just really like this song and made this one shot on a whim.

.˚₊‧༉︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

ı𝕝ı.𝕝ı𝕝𝕝ı𝕝ı.ı𝕝𝕝ı.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ 𝕐𝕠𝕦 ℝ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 (𝔼𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕) - 𝔻𝕠𝕛𝕒 ℂ𝕒𝕥 ]

𝟙:𝟘𝟟 ——◦———— -𝟜:𝟘𝟝

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

How long have you thought about this? This sinful thought? You lost track. But if you could have a dollar for every time you thought about him, Bill Gates would look like a middle-class citizen.

You wanted him so badly, but you had a boyfriend, who happened to be one of his best friends.

When did this all start? The second your boyfriend Jean introduced you to the rest of his friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“I want you all to meet my girlfriend, Y/n. Y/n, these are my friends. The one I was telling you about.” Jean introduced the group and each of them introduced themselves after. Eren was the first to introduce himself. After he did, you tuned everyone else out. There was something about him that made him so intriguing.

His facial features.

His pretty sage eyes

The amorous gaze he gave off.

His piercings.

His voice.

Oh God, his voice. It was hypnotic. The way he said certain words had you weak in the knees.

His hair. It looked about shoulder length. It was easy to tell from the man-bun he styled it in. You never really found long hair on guys attractive, but with Him? You made an exception.

It was long enough to pull on when he’s-

You shook your head to erase the thought. And that was when it all began.

You met his friends three months ago, yet you found yourself lying awake in the bed you and Jean share, thinking about his best friend. Thinking about how he’d look on top of you, how he’d look underneath you, or in every position possible. You felt horrible. Who does that? But it wasn’t like Jean was innocent either. The other day you caught him making googly eyes at the new girl in your class. Mikasa was her name.

The difference between you and Jean was you’ve never really had a conversation with Eren. Jean talks to Mikasa every other day. People would think it bothers you, your partner talking to someone else, but Eren lived in your head rent-free, so you didn’t care.

You would pass by him in the hallways on your way to class and both of you would give a quick smile and a nod signaling “Hi.” You felt like you were in high school again. All giddy and smiley when your crush would give you the slightest bit of attention.

You always wondered if he felt the same way, but you’d be an idiot to ask, so you attempt to hide it in your face. However, something told you he knew already. Every time you and Jean’s friends hang out, it’s hard to look directly at him, and he could tell because he wouldn't look away.

All of you were eating at a diner when you made eye contact with Eren, he never dropped his gaze, it was intense. You tried focusing on something else when you accidentally tipped a cup over causing the drink to pour on the table, and drip onto the floor. “Shit.” You murmured.

“My soda!” Sasha whined. “We’ll get you another one.”

You reached out to grab a napkin, not realizing it was the last one, but it was too late because you looked up to see Eren grabbing it at the same time. Both of your hands touched.

It was like a vibration, or electricity shot up your arm and throughout your veins. The funny part about this is that neither one of you moved your hand.

“I-I’m sorry, were you gonna use this?” you asked.

“‘was gonna help you clean it.” He answered. He removed his hand from on top of yours, letting you have it to clean up the now sticky mess.

Now you wondered if anyone else caught onto what just happened.

That following Friday, you all went to a barcade for drinks and vintage games. You hopped out of Jean’s car and held hands with him as you guys walked into the arcade bar. “I’m totally gonna beat you in Mortal Kombat.” Jean snickered. “You wish!” You stuck your tongue out at him and joined the others who were playing games and drinking already.

“There you guys are! We were starting to worry.” Armin pulled you both in for a hug.

“C’mon Y/n, let’s go take a shot.” Ymir linked her arm in yours as we skipped to the bar. you both sat down and ordered two tequila shots. “So,” she started. You raised your eyebrows to tell her to keep going. “So?”

“What’s up with you and Eren huh?” She jabbed her elbow into the side of your rib. “Ok first, ow. And second, nothing? Why’d you ask?” You downed the shot before the bartender could even place it in front of you.

“Um, at the diner the other day? What was that?” She questioned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, Y/n. Don’t act dumb. I’ve seen that look before. That same look when you saw Jean for the first time.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nothing’s going on, Ymir. I promise you.”

“Alrighty then.” She shrugged and got up from her seat.

“Wait.” She turned to you.

“Did..anyone else notice? You know, what happened?”

“Not to my knowledge. But it’s ok. Your dirty little secret’s safe with me.” She winked and I scoffed. “Let's go play games.”

Another tequila shot later and you were feeling a bit tipsy. Your eyes met the motorcycle racing game and asked Ymir to race with you. “I’m gonna dust you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” you waved her off.

You walked toward the motorbike and climbed on it. It was hard to keep it in place since it was set up to lean from side to side to make turns. “Ugh! Stupid piece of shit. Stay…Still!” You cursed the machine.

You then felt a pair of hands on your waist to stabilize you on the bike. “Most of your weight needs to be here.” The voice said. You recognized that voice anywhere. It was Eren’s.

You look behind your shoulder to see him looking directly at you. This was the closest you two have ever been to each other's bodies. So close you were able to smell him. He smelt so good, if you weren’t drunk before, you might be now. It was intoxicating.

“Like this?” You looked back at him. He silently groaned before nodding and saying, “Mhm.”

Eren knew you wanted him. It was too obvious. He wanted you too, but you were his best friend's girl. However, he couldn't help the thought of seeing you underneath him, struggling to take all of him inside you.

He sees you in the halls before classes and the outfits you wear. Like one day, you wore a black mini-skirt and some thigh-high boots, it almost send him over the edge. How he’s able to keep his composure around you is unbelievable. And once he saw you bent over on the motorbike, looking back at him through your eyelashes, he almost folded right then and there.

You ended up winning the race against Ymir and smirked at her. But as soon as she walked up to you and whispered “But nothing’s going on between you and Eren right? You’re such a bad liar.” your smile dropped.

☆

The walls were an egg-white color, although it was hard to tell with the red LED lights illuminating them. It was a weird thing to pay attention to as you were gasping for air as Jean gripped your throat while pounding into you.

“You look so hot like this Y/n. God, you take me in so well.” He moaned. Your hand held onto his wrist as he continued, only picking up the pace. “D-don’t stop. Please.” You whined. Jean wasn’t bad at sex. Quite the opposite actually. Although he knew all of your spots, he never went down on you but he always asked for head, which wasn’t fair to you. Other than that, it was great, but you still wanted Eren. Just the sinful thought of it made you grow even wetter and clench around him.

“I felt you tighten up baby. You like how my dick feels, Huh?” He placed a hand on your hip only helping him to go harder and faster. “Oh fuck. Jean, I’m gonna-” You announced, your eyes threatening to roll back.

“Come for me.” And you did. Your hand slapped in front of your mouth, covering it. Jean thought it was so you won't be so loud, but it was to prevent you from screaming Eren’s name instead.

He cleaned you up, gave you a kiss on the forehead, and knocked out immediately after that.

You lay awake for an hour or so after your session with your boyfriend. Although he made you come, you were missing something, you weren’t sure what it was. Your mind trailed back to when you almost slipped up and moaned out Eren’s name instead of Jean’s.

Eren.

Everything about him made all the self-respect leave your body. You wanted him so bad. You began to imagine what he looks like shirtless. You remembered the day you went to go pick up Jean from work and conveniently, Eren was working that day too. They both work at an auto repair shop, it’s where you first met Jean; he helped change your oil.

You were waiting in the car for him, as Eren walked out and gave you a small wave. It took everything in you to prevent your eyes from widening and your jaw from dropping. He. Looked. Insanely delicious. He turned his back to you to talk to one of the other workers there. Even his back was pretty to look at.

Sweat was glistening on his back muscles, and on his grey tank top. His hair was in that messy bun you were crazy over. He grabbed his water bottle and took a swing of it, only for some droplets to trickle down his throat. You wanted to lick it.

You took that mental image, and imagine him running his hands up and down your body. Touching and stroking your body like you were a lump of clay, waiting to be molded. It drove you crazy. You were so aroused it started to hurt if you didn’t take care of it right away.

You slid one hand down, past your panties, and slowly rubbed your clit. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from making any noise, in fear of waking Jean up. The other hand grabbed your breast and played with the sensitive nipple. Your hips bucked a bit, signaling you to do more. You inserted a finger in and bit your lip a bit harder now.

You imagined how he would sound if it was his dick instead of your finger inside of you, how his moans would sound like. You remembered the time he stubbed his toe at Sasha’s new place, hitting his toe on one of the legs of the table. The sound that he made, should’ve been illegal. It was a groan that turned into a whimper. Although he was doing it out of sheer pain, he still sounded so pretty. You knew right then and there that his moans were to die for.

One finger turned into two, stretching you out and hitting that spot that leaves your legs having a mind of their own. “Fuck,” You whispered. This was so bad, this was your boyfriend's best friend you were thinking about. But the forbidden act only made your arousal grow.

Soon enough, it was hard to hold it in, and you let go, your fingers making a squelching sound from pumping them in and out of you so fast. Your slick poured out of you, onto your fingers, and a little bit on the sheets. You tried to regulate your breathing and clean up after yourself. After you did, you realized you were going to have so much trouble looking at Jean and Eren in the eye the next day.

☆

The next day was Saturday, Ymir was throwing a party for her 21st birthday and us being her closest friends, were all invited. After getting ready, Sasha drove you, her, and your other friend, Annie to Ymir’s.

“I’m so excited about this party! Ymir’s parties are literally the best!” She exclaimed. “She always has the best booze.” Annie chimed in. You weren’t really present for the conversation. Your brain was stuck on if Eren was going, and what he was gonna wear.

“Y/n! Hello!” Annie waved her hand in front of your face, leaving you looking dazed. “Oh, What?” She and Sasha frowned. “You ok girl? You’ve been quiet the whole car ride!” Sasha asked. “Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” You smiled sheepishly. They shrugged it off. “Well, we’re here! Come on!”

We walked into the house, the music blasting through the speakers, and in each room of the house. “You guys made it!” Ymir smiled. “We wouldn’t miss it! Happy birthday!” I hugged her. “Thank you! Drinks are in the kitchen. You guys help yourselves!” She waved and walked to greet her girlfriend.

The three of you walked into the kitchen, only to be greeted by the rest of the group and, Eren.

He looked at you and you tried to focus your attention elsewhere. It was hard to though; especially with the way he was looking tonight. It really wasn’t anything special, just a black muscle tee, but it made his arms and chest look extremely toned. You were able to see his tattoos and his key necklace was visible. He wore grey sweatpants with white Nike ones. He still looked very scrumptious and you wanted a taste.

“Hey, guys! Historia made jungle juice. Want some?” Connie handed you and the two girls a cup. “Thanks. Where’s Jean?” You asked, getting ready to take a sip of the beverage. He and Reiner, another one of Jean’s friends, exchanged looks with each other. “Um…He…” Connie couldn’t finish his sentence.

ı𝕝ı.𝕝ı𝕝𝕝ı𝕝ı.ı𝕝𝕝ı.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜 - ℝ𝕚𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒]

𝟙:𝟘𝟟 ——◦———— -𝟜:𝟘𝟝

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

“He went upstairs with some dark-haired girl. I’m sorry Y/n.” Reiner tried reassuring you. Your eyes widened. “Oh.” That was all you could say. In your head, you weren’t sure if you were allowed to even feel angry, as you were already imagining doing things with another man. It made you frustrated.

No one spoke for a few seconds.

“Well, screw him. Come, let's go dance.” Sasha tried cheering you up. You lightly smiled at her and downed your drink then joined her on the dance floor. “Work” by Rihanna started to play, which made you feel a bit better. Sasha was behind you as you began moving your hips against her to the beat of the song.

Her hands met your waist and pressed you against hers as you started to wine on her. You look behind you to meet her gaze as you two smile and continued. Despite you two being in the middle of the dance floor, you could still feel someone’s eyes burning into your flesh. It was him.

He was sitting manspread with a couple of guys, smoking a blunt. If this isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, it might be time for prescription glasses. His eyelids were low, due to the effects of what he was smoking. For some reason, it made you more confident, so you turned to face Sasha and kept eye contact with her, as you wined down to the ground and back up.

You did this a few more times then turned back. You looked at him as you were grinding on Sasha, not breaking eye contact. Until Jean came down the stairs with Mikasa. Your heart sunk in your chest as you saw him dap up one of his friends. You knew what that meant. It made you sick. You felt extremely dizzy. “Hey, I’m gonna…I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You told Sasha. “You want me to come with?” You shook your head no. “I’ll be ok. I’ll be back in a few.” You smiled and walked up the stairs. You entered the first door, which happened to be a bedroom with a bathroom in it. You walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

The song was still playing in the background as you gripped the sink and caught your breath a bit. You wanted to cry, but at the same time, you felt a bit relieved now that all bets are off. You didn’t feel as guilty thinking about Eren in such a way anymore. You turned on the faucet and flicked a bit of cold water on your face, not wanting to mess up your makeup, then used a paper towel to dap it dry.

You turned off the faucet and opened the door, only for him to be on the other side.

“E-Eren?” You were startled. Did he follow you up here?

“Hey.” That was all he said and walked passed you and closed the door then closed the toilet seat down and sit on it.

“Um, Hi? What are you doing?”

“Came up here to smoke. Too much noise in my head down there.” He shrugged and lit his blunt.

“Are you sure? Doesn’t really seem like it.” You said. “What makes you say that?”

“You coming up here, immediately after I come up here? Looks pretty suspicious.” You shrugged.

“Does it?” He looked up at you and you nodded. “You know what else looks suspicious?”

You raised your eyebrows signaling to go on. He took a hit of his blunt and blew. “What happened yesterday, and a few days before? Now that’s suspicious.” I frowned.

“You seem to have forgotten. Do you want me to remind you?” He stood up, slowly walking towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aw, don’t act coy, Y/n.” He cooed. You stepped back only to bump into the door. He was towering over you now. You were looking up at him with a slight need in your eyes. He smirked and took another hit.

“You know,” he started, the smoke leaving his mouth and his hands sliding up and down your hips.

“There was something about you that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was until the way you would stare at me, that I fully understood.”

“W-What do you mean?” Your voice was quiet, but he still caught it. “Come on Y/n. Are we playing the stupid game?” He teased.

“I’ve got the strangest feeling that you might want me, but you have a boyfriend, sweetheart.” He took one last hit of his blunt before outing it on his arm. You gasped and your eyes widened. He smirked and grabbed your cheeks to make your lips pout slightly. He blew the smoke into your mouth for you to inhale it all.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Exhale.” You did just that. He then placed his hand on the side of your face while the other one was placed against your lower back.

“You want me?” He asked, trapping you between the bathroom door and his body. You couldn’t look at him, his gaze was piercing. He took your chin in his fingers. “When someone’s speaking to you,” his other hand pulled you closer to him and tilted your face to force you to look at him. “You look at them. Understand?”

You whimpered in response.

“Speak.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what baby?” He pushed you.

“Yes, I-I understand.”

“Smart girl. Now I’ll ask again. Do you want me? Despite being Jean-boy’s girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Wonder what he’ll think if I told him this.”

“Well, he’s not here right now. You know what he did.” You reminded him, as he was there when Reiner told you he was sleeping with someone else. “His loss.” He shrugged. Eren walked backward and sat back on the covered toilet seat then motioned you to walk towards him. “C’mere.”

You did what you were told and he tapped your thighs to signal you to sit in his lap. “There we go. Comfortable?” You nodded. “Good. Tilt your head to the side pretty girl.” You tilted your head and immediately he attached his lips to your neck. “Tell me,” he kissed up your neck to your jaw. “How long have you thought about doing this? Hm?”

“Mm. For so long.” you whimpered. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s hands were drawing different patterns on your back as he continued to mark you. “What have you thought about? What kinds of thoughts kept you up at night?” You whined in response, seeing as it was too humiliating to go into depth. “I’m not gonna continue if you don’t tell me, sweet girl.”

Oh, fuck you.

“I’ve thought about-” you were stopped mid-moan as he found the sensitive part of your neck and began to suck on it harshly. “A-About you, having you all on top of me, and touching me all over my body. Fuck.” It was hard to speak since it was one, humiliating explaining your fantasies to him and two, the way he was destroying your neck.

Eren grabbed your hips and pushed them down so you could feel him. “Can you feel me? How hard you’re making me right now? Fuck, I feel it throbbing.” You could feel the pulse between your legs as you felt his dick pressed onto your clothed slit.

Your whines grew a little bit louder as you found yourself grinding down on his hardened dick. You could feel the slick start to dampen your panties. “Eren, please.” You gripped his hair and started to grind on him a bit faster this time. “Fuck, look at you.” He said as he gently pulled your head down to meet his lips.

They were incredibly soft and could taste/smell the weed on his lips. It was enough to get you high. You were struggling to kiss back as he used his hips to thrust upwards, grinding into you and moaning in your mouth. This went on for a few more minutes until you got frustrated and told him you wanted more.

He picked you up and placed you down on the counter. He kissed down your body until he was face level with your clothed cunt. He looks up at you with hungry, low-lidded eyes as he kisses the inner parts of your thighs, your dress riding up as he continued, kissing every part but the part you wanted him to touch. He was teasing you on purpose.

You were fidgeting on the counter, making all kinds of noise, moaning his name so he would get the message. He finally started to kiss your clothed cunt and the feeling made you jolt forward a bit, almost making you fall off the counter. “Woah, it’s ok. I’m not gonna let you fall.” He holds your hips in place.

“Damn girl, you’re acting like you’ve never been eaten out before.” He joked but when he looked up at you, you weren’t laughing. “Don’t tell me-”

“He’s never…done that to me before.” You looked off to the side. Eren scoffs. “I’m about to show you what you’ve been missing. Make sure you get a good grip.” He rips your panties and before you could react, his tongue was already connected to your clit and you both let out loud desperate moans. You were already wet from the dry-humping session you both just had, and it was having an effect on him. If his dick wasn’t hard then, it certainly is now. He took a few deep breaths to try to prevent him from coming right them.

He wraps his hands around your thighs and attaches his mouth to your cunt to start lapping you up. Your breath hitched in your throat since you weren’t used to this foreign feeling. His tongue makes different patterns and swirls on your clit while his mouth creates a suction effect.

“Oh shit,” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and grabbed his now disheveled bun. Your entire body feels light like you were about to float up to the ceiling at any moment as he draws circles over your entrance and then flicks your clit. You grabbed ahold of the counter as tightly as you could, till you would see your knuckles turning white.

You opened your eyes and looked down to see him looking right at you the entire time. “Fuck.” you whimpered, the pleasure you were experiencing and the way he was looking at you was all too much but you would curse at yourself later if you didn’t get a chance to at least take a glimpse.

He unwrapped one of his hands off of your thigh and held your hand as the other arm wrapped around your hips, pulling you further into his mouth so you couldn’t escape his grasp as he tongue fucked you. Your breathing was totally uneven now. You were a moaning shaking mess before him. His name was the only thing you knew how to moan at this given moment.

You were wet. So wet, you could hear the wet sloppy noises coming from his mouth, and your cunt. It would’ve been embarrassing if you both weren’t so turned on. Eren ate you out with such purpose. Like he enjoyed it. That’s because he did. He loved seeing your eyes roll back and you moaning out his name with your legs shaking on either side of his face.

He then stops and stands up. “Get down and turn around.” You quickly hop down and turn around, Eren then unzips your dress and pulls it down enough to expose your breasts. Your nipples began to harden from how cold the bathroom was. He whispers “Fuck,” in response as he placed his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you down. “Bend over for me,” you bent over with no hesitation.

He was directly behind you, and although you can see his reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t really see his entire body. Just from the waist up. He took off his shirt, which exposed his abs and the rest of his tattoos. You were practically dripping at this point. He grabbed the tip and dragged it along your wet slit to coat him a bit.

Eren pumped himself a few times and groaned. “Look in the mirror,” he ran his hands up and down your back and hissed. “I’ve thought about you non-stop ever since I met you for the first time, you always had that look in your eye as if you wanted me,” He slowly put the tip in, watching it stretch your hole out a bit. You whined at the feeling. You’ve always loved being teased, even when it got frustrating at times, the anticipation is what makes it better.

“You feel this? You feel how I’m stretching you? Oh, fuck.” He pushed only the tip in a few times then slapped it on your clit. “You would look away first whenever we made eye contact, it was so cute. And now that I have you, I need to savor this.” He inserted himself halfway in, causing you to whine louder.

“Eren,” you pleaded. You were getting desperate now. “I know, baby.”

“It’s been months and neither of us made a move until now- fuck.” He moaned slowly pulling it out and then rubbing it on your clit, making you bite your lip and roll your eyes back. “‘Cause you chose to be loyal to him, but.” He pressed the tip to your entrance.

“A couple strokes when I put it in, you’ll belong to me.” He pushed himself all the way in this time. “O-oh my god! F-Fuck!” You cried out and gripped the counter. He continued this a few times, pulling all the way out then slamming back in, then he went at a steady but quick pace.

The louder you got the harder he fucked into you, his hips slamming against your ass making a slapping noise. He looked down to watch as your ass rippled with each hard thrust. Tears began to flood your eyes from the immense pleasure you were experiencing then fell because of how hard Eren was pounding into you.

“Every day, I get angry at myself because I didn’t meet you first.” He said through gritted teeth. “Could’ve used this pretty cunt before Jean could get a hold of you.” He grabbed your neck and lifted you up so his chest was pressed up against your back. “Look in the mirror,” He said in your ear. “Look in the mirror as I fuck you senseless.” Your mouth is open, panting like a bitch in heat from how good he was making you feel.

Your hips were pressed up against the counter and Eren moved up a bit more so you could feel him deeper. You couldn’t back away, you just had to take it, which made you grow wetter. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you moaned out his name some more, like it was the only name you knew, “Look at you baby,” He cooed and you slowly brought your head back up to look in the mirror.

“Look at how hard I'm fucking you. What would your boyfriend think about this, hm? If Jean walked in here, what would you do? Seeing his precious girlfriend getting fucked hard by his best friend. You think he’d watch us? Until we finished?” You whined at the thought of that actually happening. Thinking about it, you would probably keep going until you both finished. You started to clench around him. “Oh? You would like that. Messy bitch.” He grabbed your throat and squeezed it and he took his other hand to rub your clit at a fast pace.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” You chanted and wrapped your hand around the wrist that was slightly choking you. “Eren, I’m close-” He removed his hand from your clit and pulled out. “No, you’re not. Go lay on the bed,” He backed up enough for you to wobble to the bed and spanked your ass in the process. You lay down on your back as Eren got on top of you and pushed the tip back in. In this position he was able to pound deeper into you, it felt like he was in your guts. “Oh my god, Eren! You’re s-so deep. In my st-stomach.” You managed to force out. “Yeah? How does it feel?” His pace quickened up.

“It’s- I- I don’t know if I can take it. Fuck,” You cried out and your legs started to tremble. The pleasure was getting too intense for you to handle, how you did come yet is still surprising. A part of you wanted to release, but the other part of you wanted this to last. So you tried to make it last. “It’s ok, baby. You can take it. You’ve been such a good girl. Take it for me.” He only went in deeper. The tears from earlier continued to pour down your cheeks and the sides of your face, pooling by your ears.

Eren loved the sight that was in front of him. Your nose and cheeks were a slightly red tint from the crying and the pleasure you were receiving. The sounds that were omitted from your throat were like music to his ears, he wanted to hear them again and again. The faces you made, he paid close attention to what felt good, and what made you feel uncomfortable. The way your breasts bounced from the hard thrusts you were receiving, and the way your cunt was gripping him. He couldn’t focus on where to look.

“God, look at you. You’re so beautiful,” He started. “Almost makes me wish I could paint or something.” It was already working. Your thinking process was fuzzy and your brain felt like it was turning into mush. You weren’t speaking in complete sentences at this point. “Mm, feels so good Eren.” You slurred as you gripped the bed sheets beneath you. Eren got on his forearms to lean down and kiss you. He squeezed your cheeks like he did when he blew the smoke in your mouth, but this time he gave you a sloppy kiss. The sounds that came out of your mouth would've been embarrassing if you both weren't so turned on. One of his hands snaked down you rub your clit at a slow pace, which made it hard to keep up with, it caused you to get close. You started clenching around him.

“Eren,” You whined.

“Mm, I can feel you tightening up around me. Ready to come for me sweet girl?”

“Yes, please, please.” You chanted.

“Come on baby,” He kissed down your neck and used the same hand that rubbed your clit, to push down on your lower stomach, causing your body to immediately relax and take more of him inside you. “Come for me.” That was all it took.

“Eren, Eren, EREN! FUCK!” Your legs shook with such force as you screamed out his name multiple times. You tossed your head back in pleasure as your ejaculate gushed out of you and dampened the sheets below you and Eren’s lower stomach. Your hips attempting to buck if Eren hadn’t held them down. “Good girl, that’s it. Let it out for me.” He talked you through your orgasm, which only made it more intense for you. Your breathing pattern was all over the place. Your hands didn’t know where to hold on to; first the sheets, your hair, or Eren’s wrists. It was out of control.

“There you go, that’s my girl.” He purred as he pushed you further up the bed and fucked you through your orgasm then chasing his. He kept one hand on your hip and the other gripping the headboard to thrust into you. His thrusts were slow but deep to help you finish, then it got harder and faster. His pace was ruthless as his hips snap against yours with so much force that your head hits the headboard slightly with each thrust. “Oh god, ‘needed you so bad. You have no idea.” He moaned. His thrusts were so fast, that you tried getting him to slow down, but your voice was shot from the moaning previous. You weren’t able to let out proper moans, but Eren seemed to fuck them out of you.

“Oh shit, holy shit, Eren slow down I’m - Fuck!” You babble as you came all over him a second time. He looked down at you as you did. Watching your face contort in pleasure as your whimpers made their way down to his tip. “God, you’re killin’ me.”

The sight above you was something that needed to be in an art gallery. His bottom lip was puffy and pink from biting it so hard, and beads of sweat glistened on his chest and forehead. His hair was out of its usual bun and down along the sides of his face. His eyes were rolling back as well, which was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen.

“Eren,” You moaned out. “Hm?”

“Come inside me. Please. I wanna feel it.” You pleaded. He moaned in response.

“Yeah? You want me to come in this pretty cunt? You want me to breed you, baby? Wanna feel your cunt being filled up?” He looked down and smirked at you. You whimpered and nodded.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes. I need it so badly. Please, please.” You ran your hands up and down his abs.

“Fuck, I’m- I’m gonna come -- Oh God -- I’m gonna fucking come baby, oh fuck!” Eren pushes his hips down into you until your head is pushed up against the headboard. You feel him in your guts as you feel his warm cum in you and all throughout your body. His breathing was uneven as he gripped your hip, digging his nails into the fatty flesh.

“Shit,” He cussed and lowered his head down to kiss you gentler than before. “You ok?”

“Mhm,” She hummed. “So tired.” He chuckled and pulled out.

As he did, Eren rolled over and pulled you into his arms. “Let’s sleep. We’ll deal with Jean tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead and put the covers over your naked body as you drifted to sleep.

#aot #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren aot #eren smut #aot smut #aot x reader #snoopyearss #aot oneshots

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mossgh0st · 2 months

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As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

#levi aot #captain levi #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi blurb #levi oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi Ackerman oneshot #aot oneshots #attack on titan oneshot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #user!moss writes

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levisforgottentea · 6 months

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“Come on baby, you can do one more cant ya?”

Armin’s legs wobbled with every single thrust, he whimpered as he put his head down in shame but you grabbed his chin and (lovingly) slapped his cheek.

“H-hey now..! They’ll hea-hear-“

He got cut off by his own breath as he let out a whimper. You chuckled before pushing him up to switch the position, two hands on his chest and he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Commander Arlert? Sir are you there?”

Swallowing his own words, you answer for him as you slap a hand over his mouth.

“He’s busy with paperwork. The meeting is called off”

The footsteps of the cadet faded in the distance and you smirk as you speed up and his eyes roll back into his skull.

An: armin is way too breedable. Also please shoot me some asks😋

#male reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #gn reader #armin aot #armin x reader #armin arlert #armin smut #aot fandom #aot scenarios #aot smut #snk scenarios #smut???#snk #aot oneshots

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 3 months

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Hii i just saw an anon requested a Jean short fic where the reader smothers his face with kisses. If it's okay w you, can i request smtg like that but this time it's fully fluff? Where Jean's just chilling on the couch or smtg & his girl comes up and randomly covers all over his face with kisses, tryna see whether the lipstick is 'transferproof' & casually walking away nonchalantly lmao. SO SORRY IF UR SICK OF DOING THE SAME REQUEST BUT I LOVE YOUR PAGE SM TT

summary: life with jean is easy. infact, it’s too easy. so, you commit yourself to finding the perfect way to mess with his day, for better or for worse.

cw: just fluff :’) short n sweet

a/n: sorry this took forever i’m the worst but ty for ur ask!!

jean, oblivious and drawn into some movie playing on the television, sits on a couch he had helped move out of your apartment when you two were ready to live together. he’s tucked into the corner, his arm supporting his head as he leans onto the arm rest. eyebrows knitted in a deep concentration, you were far from the front of his mind as he picks apart the film.

you had done some online shopping the past few days. well, jean would call it ‘splurging.’ it was hard refusing some of the sales going on, so you did get a bit of everything. earlier today, a few packages arrived, one encasing a new lipstick you’d heard good reviews about. everybody was raving about it and how it’d stay on even after a rough night out.

as you flip the tube around in your hands, you know there’s only one way to test it out, to see if what all the girls online were saying was true. you head to the bathroom where traces of your boyfriends cologne lingers. you apply an even layer of red to your lips. you rub them together and clean up any unwanted lines with a finger.

peaking your head into the living room, you can see he hasn’t moved an inch. he can’t even sense your presence at the moment, creating the ideal situation for your plans. you tiptoe quietly across the room as you pray the floorboards don’t creak. and luckily, they don’t.

you come around the side of him. his eyes are glued ahead. as you creep into his field of vision, he turns his head slightly. quickly, you grab ahold of his face, pressing your pointer on his right cheek and your thumb on his left. he doesn’t react as you press your lips over and over all along his face, from his temples to his sharp jawline where bits of stubble lie.

slightly out of breath, you pull away. red lip marks are scattered along his gorgeous face, bright in color. they contrast against his hazel eyes. you smile, looking at your painted boyfriend as he looks at you, one eyebrow raised in confusion- but not annoyed.

“hmm. guess they were lying.” you shrug your shoulders and turn on your heels, starting back towards the bathroom.

“baby?” he questions from his seat. you don’t say anything back, prompting a “baby? what are you talking about?” and a few muted footsteps in your direction.

go check out my jean fic !

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levmada · 4 months

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Hey how are you feeling?

Im glad your requests are still open. Loved the answer to my last request so I hope you don’t mind me sending in another one?

Some cute hurt/comfort with taller gn reader and postwar Levi. After the ackermanbond is gone I imagine Levi getting really sick for the very first time. Fever and everything also adding the flashbacks to when his mom got sick. And reader ofc nursing him back to health and also comforting him 🧡

im so so so so so so SO sorry😭i took literal months with this sari... i wish i had a good excuse, but i hope you like this :(

i took a lot of inspo from this eruri fic from ao3. stress cannn cause flu-like symptoms, and i wanted this to be the outcome of all those years of suffering for levi finally catching up to him.

probably not medically accurate: it's not very clear what the nature of levi's knee injury. it's seen partially crushed, but it's not clear what medical technology marley has (especially w/ the last volume cover in mind). i'm functioning on my idea that levi can't get around without a wheelchair, but he does have range of motion, partly based on the health of the cartilage/joints/bone, but mostly based how painful it is. it's more complicated than that, but i wanted to add a disclaimer anyway.

(tldr this is the levi torture hour)

➥ pairing: postwar!Levi x taller!gn!reader

➥ about: Not even Levi is invulnerable, both after the war and back then, so it's stupid to be scared when he gets sick.

Until it isn't.

➥ c/w: sick fic, post-war Levi, delirium/nightmares, reverse hurt comfort, implied past csa, happy ending (promise), medical inaccuracies, nightmares, established relationship (married)

➥ wc: 5.3k

In the comfortable, quiet rays of mid-morning, you hum to yourself, and sip your mug of tea. You watch a white cardinal with red tips toddle on the windowsill on the other side of the glass. That’s rare.

It takes off.

You trace the rim of your mug, sighing slowly but heavily through your nose. It’s getting harder not to think about it.

You want to think that—now that you and Levi are retired (what an odd word…)—it’s reached that natural time to start sleeping better. Sleeping in, not out of an absurdly rare indulgence, but to relax.

It’s been nine months, not counting the few Levi was cooped-up in the hospital.

Even for him, relaxation shouldn’t be impossible after some point. In fact, he hasn’t shot awake just before dawn for a while, anticipating a reveille that won’t ring out.

But you fought beside him; your bad habits and your happiness wrestle over the reality of your new life too.

But…

You reach across the small wood table and hover your hand over the cup of tea you poured for him; decent, but not piping hot and steaming like earlier.

This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity: you get to coax Levi out of bed late in the morning.

You stand, bringing your arms behind your head to stretch just a little as you walk to the hall, down to the bedroom. The door is cracked like you left it.

Like a tired waterfall, the vast majority of the thick covers lay spilled haphazardly to the floor, so you’re surprised even before you take a look at Levi, who’s still curled up asleep, facing your way. That leaves his back to the light glowing through the curtains.

He kicked them off?

Like the sheets, his sweater is white; his trousers are dark, loose and cut (with his knee brace on underneath). With his arms tightly crossed like that, and the harsh crease sitting on his brow, he almost looks awake and stressed out.

“G’morning, ‘Vi…”

Importantly, his pallor, normally as pale as snow, glows pink. A few strands of black cling to his forehead.

You stride over with a bit of a frown that wasn’t as deep when you were feeling just plain impatient, and take a sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you feeling sick, baby…?”

That crease deepens. He twitches awake. "M-Mm?"

Now that you’re close, you notice his breathing is a little labored. You touch your knuckles to his temple. Eyes barely crack open.

"Sweetheart, ‘Vi… You definitely have a fever..."

You comb his bangs off his damp forehead, and they close.

The heat radiating off his skin—you grimace a little.

Actually... have you ever seen Levi so much as under the weather? You can’t even remember.

He shifts slightly, as your strokes rouse him.

"Do you feel sick?" you ask for the second time.

"Huh? I'm fine..."

His eyes finally blink open, fluttering once or twice. But then, a shadow passes over his face that seems to disprove that assertion of his.

He shoves his elbow underneath himself and starts to lift himself up. "Stop—fretting. 'm fine."

He gets most of the way; he’s resting heavily on one arm when he grunts, then leans.

"Stop, sweetheart," you huff, and take him by the shoulder. "What hurts? Your head?"

Looking dazed, like he’s not all there, he lifts his bad hand to his temple and, with his ring and little finger, feels his temple.

“Don’t know…”

"Lay back down, you clearly need some rest—even if this is rare for you, okay?"

“What?” He looks perturbed with you. “Don’t be stupid. There’s too much t’do. N’ I’m fine,” he grumbles, blatantly lying.

"Levi..." you warn.

"I'm just... tired," he mumbles. He rubs his eye with his thumb. "Fuck. Fucking tired."

His strength starts to evaporate as his eyes slip closed.

In an instant—before he collapses—you thrust your arms around him, and lay him back down on his side slowly.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you maneuver his arm out from under him, and listen to his even but labored breathing for a bit of time.

You stare down, eyes wide. Are you scared?—Or anxious?

Well either way—it’s not until you stopped being at risk for a violent death day-in and day-out for years that you even realized you were constantly anxious.

It’s not a nice feeling.

It’s okay. Though. You rationalize. Not even Levi is impervious to everything, and certainly not now. It’s stupid to be surprised.

You feel his forehead with the back of your hand one more time, and kiss your teeth. Definitely a fever, but an exact number wouldn’t hurt.

The thermometer and other simple medicines are shoved in one of the high kitchen cabinets, a second thought when you both moved into this quaint little cabin in the woods (aside from his prescriptions). You didn’t even say it out loud, even.

Now pinched between your fingers, you stand back and stutter on your feet, unsure of what else you need. You want to need something more helpful, but the need to go and check back on him is most powerful.

A short ways down the hall, you pick up on the unbelievable yet unmistakable sound of… crying. Unrestrained, and yet, the kind of crying that steals breath.

You expect to wake up as soon as you reach the bedroom—some disturbing but absurd dream.

But you don’t. He’s curled up where you left him, eyes closed but now gasping sharply through his teeth with tears glistening on his cheeks. One drips off his trembling chin.

You drop onto the edge of the bed immediately, and try to speak, but find yourself helplessly stuck at a complete loss as to where to even start.

“Why…” You card your fingers through his hair, to no reaction. He must be asleep, right?—But how, why?

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” you coo gently, sitting so as to swaddle his back and caress his head.

You make it all not sound like a question. “Everything’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart… Wake up.”

His eyes tightly shut, and tears squeeze through. He croaks. “Can wake up.”

It takes a moment for you to register that he really meant to pronounce it as “can’t”.

“…You sound sorta freaked out, and you want to talk to Falco?—Is Levi alright??”

You silently curse Gabi for being so observant.

“Which place? I have the books, um, right here…!”

“No…” You swallow a little, and coil the bright red cord to the phone around and around your finger. You wish it was as simple as some tinnitus, or nerve pain.

“No?” Gabi asks on a high lilt; a question within a question.

“I know. He never gets sick, which is why I want to talk to Falco. I appreciate you trying to help, but please hurry?”

“Oh yeah, okay!”

You peer over your shoulder from your place stood in the hall and rock on your heels nervously. The only space of time you could find where you could bear to leave him was when he was quiet.

Falco has matured so much, even over the past year, and you trust him with this. He’s training to be a doctor; being a soldier never suited him much anyway. Levi was the first to say so, as usual the perfect judge of character.

You speak slowly and calmly to him, encouraged by his own composure.

“It sounds like a flu, just with that added symptom,” he’s thinking out loud. Thin pages turn. “Severe stress can cause flu-like symptoms sometimes… Especially when it’s prolonged. Does that sound like anything?”

“No. No way.” You shake your head, your brow pinched tightly. In fact you laugh. “Haven’t fought any Titans lately, at least.”

His voice lowers, thinking as he talks. “True, yeah. Especially for you guys, nothing could ever really compare, right?”

“You have no idea. Not with Levi.”

“We can talk about it another time, maybe,” you amend quickly. You know almost for certain that’s not going to happen.

Falco hums. “Anyway, if that’s the case, that would explain why it’s been so severe, with the sudden onset. But think of it like a fever he needs to sweat out,” he explains.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You hear the light smile in his voice. “Don’t be too far away, though. It’s easy to tell, you know.”

You smile to yourself.

Even if the Rumbling somehow started back up above your head, you’d rather die.

You write on a little notepad—some scrawl verbatim—Falco’s directions and words of advice, the phone trapped between your ear and shoulder. Most of it is generic, for influenza of course, but you write.

A blunt but dense thump sounds not so far away. You even flinch, but just as quickly let Falco know you’ll be right back.

In the bedroom, the pale blue duvet and sheets spilled onto the floor looks like a stiff waterfall being wrenched this way and that by Levi’s attempts to sit back up, like a puppet trying to pull its own strings. He grunts in what sounds like frustration, but you can’t know for sure as his bangs obscure his eyes. His hair all over is a downright wreck.

Gaping, you fall down beside him and hurry working off all the offending fabrics he’s twisted in.

“Lee—…”

Your help lets his shaky hand hover over his knee, like he can’t be sure if it’s his. He’s breathing hard; it’s ten times shakier than his hand.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but he doesn’t resist either. Then, when something in him registers that you’re there, he leans into you like you’ve just brought the weight of the world off his shoulders.

You tug the soft pantleg up, and sigh at what you see. The scarring, like a row of pink and purple mountains stabbed into his flesh, is more inflamed than usual, leg minutely trembling when you raise it.

He must’ve tried to stand up.

“Does it hurt very bad?”

Not even such an obvious question gets you a retort of any kind. He whines softly when you have to brace that area to lift him back up, but no more.

From the dull darkened blue cotton in the shape of a V in the center of his chest, and coming down from his underarms, he’s burning up; you need to get started just as soon as you’re finished with Falco. For now, you wipe his clammy temples and brush his bangs back. He’s looking at you, but he doesn’t seem to see.

“Levi…” You press on his round cheeks under your palms, grimacing at the heat pelting off his skin.

He moans softly, some relief softening his features. “Huh. Take m’jack-et. Yer cold.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, as, sharply and without warning, tears appear and stab at your eyes. He’s not even wearing a jacket.

“Be right back,” you manage. “Okay?”

You don’t really expect a response, and you don’t get one.

First thing’s first, he needs water. You feel stupid not thinking of that first. That was at the top of Falco’s directions.

You catch Levi in a moment of relative quiet—not peace, but quiet—and cradle the back of his neck, unhinging his jaw with your other. Easy enough. You tip the glass and feed him water with the utmost care and precision. This is some act terribly intimate, a type of intimacy removed from hand-holding or sex entirely while managing to rank above them both. Over all these years, his life has been in your hands a few times, but feeding him pills—something for the fever and something for the pain—and working his shirt off for something fresh and loose-fitting feels more reverent even still. You put him in shorts and practically fortify his knee with a brace and pillows wrapped up with the belt of a housecoat so even if he rolls over, he won’t.

He chokes on a sob while you’re tucking a cold press behind his neck, forcing you to stop. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Levi?” you ask softly.

Either he’s having a nightmare, or he’s in pain, or, both. He tightens his crossed arms. His first movement in hours.

“What hurts? Falco said it might be your head.”

Another sob bursts from him. “S’head’s all over the wall, looked, it… sorry….”

He continues mumbling, but none of it sounds like words.

"Levi, it's okay, it's okay. Okay, baby? S'okay," you murmur; on and on. The washcloth has gotten smushed between his shoulder and the pillow—you set that somewhere aside. Then you lean over, rubbing with your thumbs the tears off his glistening cheeks, and messy black strands off his forehead.

Sometimes you will catch a word, sometimes you won’t. You will almost wish you didn’t the times you do. Yet you feel sworn to make sense of every mumble, a pervasive, unbreakable, urge. You’re sworn to it.

That’s how the rest of the day goes. He’s never lucid enough to eat; only enough to mumble when he’s freezing, or when he’s burning.

After dusk has bled into the sunset, and night has set in, you sit and watch over Levi religiously. To be fair, you don’t have anything “better to do”, but you hardly ate. If he knew, he’d be in your ear grumbling or otherwise dragging you by it to the kitchen, but does it matter, when he can’t know?

No, you decided, with some fucked-up determination. You want him to bitch at you when he wakes up. Not shivering trapped in an uneasy sleep.

When it gets late, you, arduously but carefully, do what you can for his knee.. He moves too much.

You wipe his face and neck of sweat, and lay a fresh, ice-cold and wet folded washcloth on his forehead. The fever is slowly getting worse.

You dote on him, carding back his bangs, and murmuring and repeating all manners of comfort you can think of. It’s becoming obvious when he’s having a nightmare.

…Finally, as Falco suggested, you’ve kept him hydrated; fever reducers every few hours.

All that's left to do then, is sleep. This realization makes you nauseous with worry.

Nonetheless, you squirm under the covers on your side, close beside him with your face tucked in his shoulder. You take a slow, deep breath.

It’s so discomforting; Levi can’t fall asleep flat on his back, ever, and yet…

Your head shoots off his chest before you’ve registered you even woke up—gasping, and a guttural cry from below. It’s pitch black, too dark to see.

That explodes him into motion. He repels you backwards as you grapple for his shoulders, and like fists closed around your throat, as he resists your every attempt to stop him hurting himself, as he whimpers tiredly, as his bawling stabs the most tender place inside you—you feel sick.

“Levi—! Stop. Levi listen to me!”

You’re louder than him, but nothing—his eyes won't open—and your stomach swoops just then as he almost succeeds in jabbing his knee in your stomach, an extra hard punch combined with the brace. That cry is a sob of nothing but pain.

Enough. Finally you bite the bullet, you drop your full weight down on top of him, if it means he’ll finally stop.

At first, you’re as steady as a boat on rough waters. A huff of relief slips out when his writhing grows sluggish, quickly.

He squirms mildly under you, breathing still stubbornly labored. “Get… off me.”

He tries to raise his arms from his sides, but can’t.

“I’ll, fuckin’ kill you.”

You viciously shake your head. “It’s just a dream.”

Are you telling only him that?

“S’ get off, you can’t, s’nough hurts ‘er.”

“L-Lee…”

You strain to make him out, as he sobs weakly. “Leave me alone already...”

His name escapes you over again like a prayer in the heat of a battle. Your determination crumbles right into dust; you fall beside him and sit up, unsure of what to do besides take his hand. You can’t bring yourself to switch on the lamp.

“It’s going to be okay.” You squeeze.

He whimpers. “…Please.”

You can’t open your foolish mouth and tell him or yourself that it’s just a dream anymore.

Falco was more correct than you gave him credit for.

Falco also warned you that it would get worse before it got better.

With the hours that keep passing—which have stretched out into two days so far—he more and more mutters in his sleep, other times under his breath, but most times he’s incoherent.

But, it’s all come to fall under one topic.

And just like that first night, it doesn’t quite make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

You don’t want to think about it; you just want to take care of him. Your anxiety is constant, and sharp. If only he’d wake up; you talk to him as if he’s awake—but to no response whatsoever, like you don’t even exist.

Moments you’re forced to leave him are the worst—for you and for him. Most times when you come back, the washcloth meant to rest on his forehead has drooped and sagged beside his temple.

At any rate, the difference between fever and tears has gotten hard to tell.

You just can’t stop from shaking, and your throat is tight, but Falco remains adamant that the flu is what he said it is.

A lamp is still glowing on your side in the late night. The air is cool, and it’s quiet, but a rare moment of “peace” makes the sounds of your shared breaths obnoxious.

Your heavy eyes sting; despite that, when they creep closed you feel yourself fading in seconds, with Levi’s head tucked under your chin, upon your chest. Seemingly, any covers are too stifling for him at the moment; pressed against your collarbones, you feel his forehead is hot again.

You cradle gently the nape of his neck, idly rubbing the knot of bone at the base of his jaw. As if you’re doing anything to protect him from anything…

He mumbles, slurring, “Y’have t’come back…”

You’re not dizzy with the shock or the horror, but it’s worse almost, to be confronted with the full magnitude of a rueless, unceasing pain that is just as lonely in its magnitude as it is devastating.

You rub his back as he buries his face in your neck, sobbing like it takes all his energy to do so. “I’ll be faster.”

“I don’ know where t’go, what do I do now?” he babbles over your soft hushes. “Wait, next time I’ll get it right...”

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay.”

“I don’ know why I even…”

Trailing off, he starts to whimper, and can’t go on.

He doesn’t stop, it doesn’t, not for a second while—all you can do—is hold and console him even though he may not know it.

Until he exhausts himself. Drifts. into a light sleep.

For it to happen all over again. Seeping into his sleep like crude oil, the next stress-induced terror to force his breathing shaky, labored.

"...Need," he whimpers, the first word you’ve made out in a while.

Your stomach swoops, the thought that you can do anything to help directly. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Don't sell it. Don't sell it, I need it."

You deflate, jaw wobbling. "Sh, sh, it's okay,” you soothe. You reach for the tray on the bedside behind you, and, using the cold cloth, you dab the sweat from his blushing temple and neck.

"S'gonna take away from m...me." He starts to pant, continuing to mumble, crying, a complete melting away. Lamenting, abject.

"Shh... Shh..."

His arm loosely draped around your waist—which you’d put there—tightens its hold, but in drifting bursts, like he keeps slipping.

“Please.”

You inhale sharply. "Please?"

"Don'. Leave me."

"I won't leave," you swiftly promise. "I won't leave, I won’t.”

He cries in his sleep for so many names that aren’t alive anymore.

Don’t go. Don’t go.

Wake up, Momma.

Wait... Just wait.

That wasn’t the worst point. Not even hunched, taken-over by so much stress and pain until he gagged was the worst point. None of what he had already said combined could amount to the last night.

You snap awake on your stomach at some blurry unknown instance, acutely aware you’ve slept like shit.

Did you even, only blink?—No. The most faintest shade of grey weakly gives your bedroom the suggestion of texture and shadow, but—your arms are empty. You reach over blindly, but the side where Levi should lay is empty and cold.

A pit bursts open in your stomach, filled with bright panic.

You lurch up and shove off the covers, breathing hard.

Where could he be??

If he was feeling better, then you would've woken up a while ago, because he would've told you. Not just...

He can’t be far.

You shiver.

On your feet, you cross the room in a few strides, and frown as you pull open the bedroom door. It's never left closed at night this time of year; it gets about ten degrees colder without the insulation. (But the chill pressing to the bottoms of your feet, you barely even noticed.)

"Levi!?"

The switch on the wall is right within reach, which lights up the hall. You look right and almost jump back; you might’ve tripped over him if you hadn’t looked first.

He sits hugging his legs—tightly folded against his chest, Levi, why?—there right outside the white doorframe. Shivering, glossy face red with fever, and most certainly in agony by now with all the abuse done to his knee, you’re not sure if he even notices you. Not from this angle.

You fall down on your knees. “Levi? Look, I’m here. Talk to me, please, okay?”

His bloodshot eyes are cracked open, staring ahead, but seemingly seeing nothing. Between the tears, you can’t tell if this is good or bad.

"Levi..." You take his shoulder in an attempt to nudge his attention towards you. “Look at me. Please.”

He was already tense. His head turns, mostly looking at you sideways—emphasis on his pale eye—but looking at you nonetheless. Good.

"What's wrong?"

His brow knits together.

“C’mere.” You lean forward and card his damp bangs back to feel his forehead. The whole time, he just looks at you passively.

“Better... But this cold won’t help in the end. Medicine is in the bedroom, so...”

You huff very softly to yourself. “…You need more bedrest. I don’t know why you even came out here. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He blinks.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you insist then, under your breath.

Some clarity crosses his dark eyes, his voice then a cracked brittle rasp. “…Not the bed.”

His gaze sort of drifts away from you.

You thought he was through with that habit. Confused, you ask, “Why not?”

“It’s ruined. It was always disgusting, but… this is worse.”

“I’ll change the sheets then. I know, it’s not—”

“You can’t do anything,” he says, tucking his chin to his chest, intent eyes focused somewhere down. “Corpse smell doesn’t come outta anything, it just smells worse the longer you leave it. It gets colder n’ heavier, then the smell, it attracts bugs. There’s a fluid,” he says quietly. Casually. “And then it shrinks. Getting eaten’s all the same. But I think that way’s worse.”

What can you even say to that?

“I won’t do th-at to you…” His brow furrows sharply, gripping his sleeves—you see now—with bright white knuckles. Even sitting up, he’s almost curled up into a ball.

You talk quickly, before the full gravity of all this can reach you.

“You won’t do anything,” you insist. “How about the sofa? Would the sofa be okay?”

“I can’ go to sleep,” he hisses. “I won’t wake up.”

“That’s not true. Why do you even say that??"

"I'm sick."

"Yeah, but it’s not bad-sick!”

You regret the moment you raise your voice. That almost innocent passivity he exuded is crushed by complete and utter detachment.

“…Denial doesn't help. Don’t be stupid. Don't even—shouldn’ touch me. It’ll end worse fer you.”

You tremble minutely, stewing in silence while in panicked, rapid-fire fashion, you rifle through explanations. He sounds so serious. And he's nothing but.

You know that Levi’s mother died from sickness. He’s called out for her, a lot.

In nightmares… A nightmare?

You guess that’s where it all started for him, as he always slips into a warm voice and delicate eyes those rare moments he does tell you about her. Being sick then, being sick with you here… It all clicks into place.

Okay. Fuck…

The real monster of it all is the fever—making him unglued like this.

You rub the bridge of your nose, swallowing thickly. Okay.

A firm calm settles over you; for once, Levi is scared. That means you won’t be.

“Levi…” you console.

You reach out to his shoulder, only to flinch when he flinches before a push knocks into your chest. It sends you falling into your backside with an injured grunt.

Instantly, intrinsically, you know it’s going to bruise; all his strength, one hand.

Your eyes pop open to his own—uncannily—wide with his lips twisting into a grimace.

Putting his eyes ahead again, he sucks in a choked breath and slumps. “Sorry, I thought you were… Sorry.” He gasps. “I’m sorry.”

You get back up on your knees, slowly, and settle down beside him without hesitation. You’re more frantic than ever to close this icy chasm-like space.

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head as sharp and as fast as his rattling breaths. “I thought you were him. I don’t get it… it just kept hap-happening… Fucking…”

You see him still searching for the words to explain.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

The warmth in your voice is genuine. When it shakes, you just hate that he’s suffering with nothing you can do to lift it all away, like blood by steam.

He grips his hair, having made himself as small as possible again. “I’m—s-sorry.”

“Shh…”

Slowly until now, you’ve been leaning in, and now you firmly rest your hand on his back, rubbing in long, consoling motions. This seems to help.

You stay like this while his breathing shudders through tears. It’ll only hurt you both to bring force into it again; either way, any way, it’s not his fault. You don’t know what he meant… but why would it be the man who came and chose to look after him?

“Sorry…”

Everything you see if one ruddy cheek and his temple glistens with either tears or sweat, and his eyes look painful.

“Look at me. Baby.”

An order seems familiar. He does.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He understands slowly, but you know the answer. After a time, he blinks, and nods.

“Stay still, please.” You kiss his temple.

“…Sure.”

One arm around his back, the other scooped under his knees, you lift him up into your arms with not too much difficulty. He goes tense, but leans into your chest nonetheless.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur as you walk. You want desperately to ask about his leg, but this feels too fragile, like if you bring up physical pain then the whims of the fever will take him back over.

He’s trembling all over, it seems, before you lay him back down in bed, and once you do he clutches a bit of your blouse at the collar with a grip that confirms for you that he’s not letting go. You sit beside him with his waist pushed against the side of your thigh.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” he croaks out softly, staring at your sleeve which he now grips. “I wasn’t fast ‘nuff. I hesitated n’ it got ‘em killed for nothing after made the same mistake… Sorry i-was my damn pride…”

You let him talk, rather mumble. When there’s a lull, you rest your palms on his hot cheeks. Better than the last time you felt them. His eyes instantly flutter in relief.

It’s surprisingly easy to give him water, then the fever reducer. Meanwhile, he’s clearly fighting the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his eyelids.

“Don’t make me sleep…”

“I’m not. I’ll just stay by your side. Then”—you cup his cheek—“I’ll do it again.”

He hardly grunts, eyes closing.

You won’t sleep, and you can’t sleep (if there’s even a difference). In fact, you’ll bring in one of the kitchen chairs and sit by him with a novel; you’ll read by candlelight, with a handkerchief hanging like a tarp from the lampshade so maybe he can rest easy.

Being that the flu is a release of stress… He’s getting better. He’s getting better.

Hour-by-hour, more or less (but mostly less), you snap awake at the tiniest stirring from your husband beside you. Maybe mumbling a ghostly snatch of a word; mostly sniffling. It takes you half an hour to drift off again.

This unforgiving cycle obnoxiously persists until morning sunlight poking your sleeping mind wakes you. Suddenly, again. You see him.

It’s a mystery, how long, but Levi is gazing at you softly with bloodshot, but, maybe aware eye. You feel better when he glances away, like every time—if, not when—you catch him staring. Your legs are tangled slightly, his slow breaths brush your cheek.

"Baby," you murmur. "You’re awake?”

He looks annoyed. “No, I’m sleeping with my eyes open.”

“How do you feel? Be honest," you quickly add. You drape your arm around his waist.

He frowns at your tone. "...Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.”

You say nothing.

His voice gets softer and gentler. “I don’t remember… And you look like shit. What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“…So I’m going to be wrong,” he surmises, looking away. “I slept in too late.”

He goes to rub his eye, and sniffs. The distress marring his expression grows.

“It’s been a couple days, but it’s alright,” you say. You’re quick to explain as the realization seems to come over Levi that he hasn’t had a proper bath in that length of time.

Though, it’s hard to explain. It’s even harder to wrap your mind around the fact that he doesn’t remember how he’d cried, and—insinuated, what he did. What horrors he spoke of.

You finish. Behind a thinly-veiled straight face, he stares into your eyes with the quiet accusation that you haven’t told the whole story.

“It… was… bad,” you bear to admit. “That’s why I look like shit.”

The self-loathing that falls over his expression like a deathly shroud is instant. He looks away, glaring at nothing, but before he can think anything, you squirm much closer, tighten your hold, and kiss his chin.

“It’s not your fault. And if I had to, I’d do it all over again. So don’t start.”

He watches you for a beat, as if searching for some exaggeration, but soon looks resigned to the truth in your vow. At this long-awaited point in your lives, with some legwork to say the least, you’re relieved to know you’ve finally got it beaten into his head that you love him, whether he agrees or not.

You watch him swallow, and many emotions cross his eyes as he mulls your words over.

“I don’t like that it’s just a flash for me,” he resolves.

“I know. But we can… talk about it?”

Honestly you’re shocked the words left your mouth. Levi also stares at you like you just spoke a foreign language. It’s pathetic, as he would say, sure, but—people like you and him don’t just talk about things like that which fueled those nightmares of his.

He looks away, considering. Finally, he brings hand up to yours, nestled deep under the covers. Your fingers clasp gently, foreheads brushing. His silvery blue eyes calmly watch yours. That’s his answer.

It’s so different, and not so comfortable right now, but you believe, now, that’s okay.