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levisolace · 19 days ago

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[7] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 7: The Breakup

WC: 9,089 Chapter Warnings: tiniest bit of steamy but bigger angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Hi, I am back again. I know I said we might have smut this chapter but it didn't really feel right for it lol. Honestly, not very satisfied with the chapter but I hope you like it!

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When you woke up, the unfamiliar warmth of soft sheets and the faint scent of something unmistakably Levi brought you to a sudden clarity. This wasn’t your apartment. You blinked, taking in your surroundings—the room was dimly lit, with soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Levi’s apartment. The realization settled slowly, like ripples spreading across water.

You sat up, your head heavy with a dull ache from last night’s drinks, and as you took in the stillness of the room, memories from the last night washed over you. You groaned in annoyance with yourself. How could you let this happen? When had you been careless enough to be that drunk?

The last seven years have taken you far away from this part of your life. Perhaps it was the absence that lowered your alcohol tolerance. Perhaps it was Hange’s mix. You don’t know and you don’t remember. Well, you do remember Levi arriving and helping you in fragments.

Last night was different. There had been warmth in Levi’s touch when he carried you to his bed, something almost tender in the way he looked at you, even if only for a moment. You don’t remember anything after passing out on the bed, hopefully that was the only thing you did. He was nowhere to be seen, and as you sat there on the bed pondering, the soft creaks and sounds of the apartment settling only heightened the absence of him.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the coolness of the morning air against your skin, protected by the fabric of Levi’s jacket. The comfort of Levi’s presence last night had been undeniable, but now, is it bad of you to hope that the tension between you two had finally subsided?

You stood, making the bed carefully and neatly, and made your way to the doorway. In the living room, Levi was sleeping on the single sofa, arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side.

He looked… worn. Even in sleep, his body held tension, his jaw slightly clenched, arms crossed over his chest like he was still defending himself from some unseen battle. His head had tipped awkwardly to the side, and the shadows under his eyes were deep, telling the story of someone who didn’t rest easily. You remembered how he never had good sleeping habits—his insomnia was something he never spoke about in detail, but you had seen its effects more times than you could count.

Crouching down, you looked at him more closely. His sleep was shallow, restless, as if even in unconsciousness, his mind couldn’t fully let go. There were faint signs of exhaustion etched across his face—the slight crease between his brows, the constant tension in his hands, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin.

You thought back to when you were together, the nights when you’d wake up and find him sitting at the edge of the bed or drinking tea. He rarely slept for more than a few hours, and when he did, it was never restful.

Now, seeing him like this—curled up on that too-small sofa, lost somewhere between exhaustion and restlessness—it hit you how much Levi had endured. His eyes, which always carried that sharpness, were softer in sleep, but the strain remained. The man who was always composed, always in control, seemed fragile in these stolen moments of rest.

“…when the breakup happened, Levi didn’t take it well.”

Kuchel’s words rang in your head, settling a frown on your face. You watched him breathe, the steady rise and fall of his chest, your hand hovering close to him but not touching. This was Levi—strong, guarded, and yet so painfully human underneath it all. Seven years and this hasn’t changed for Levi.

In this city where much has changed, you wonder what else has remained?

Levi stirred, his brow furrowing before his eyes slowly blinked open. He blinked again, his sharp gaze instantly locking onto you crouching beside him, your face only inches away from his. His expression shifted from sleepy confusion to guarded awareness in a split second, his body tensing as though he was expecting something.

You froze, caught in the act, your breath hitching. The silence hung heavy between you, as his sleepy, narrowed eyes tried to process the situation.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was that familiar edge to it, the one that made you think he wasn’t too pleased with the unexpected proximity.

You scrambled to stand up, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you. You just looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain why you had been crouched there watching him sleep.

He let out a slow, deep exhale, shifting his position as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes softened for just a moment, but his guard was quickly back up, the tired lines on his face doing little to hide his discomfort at being caught like this.

“Didn’t mean to wake me?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism, “You’re practically breathing down my neck.”

You winced, your embarrassment deepening. “I was just… worried. You don’t look like you’ve slept much.” You couldn’t help the concern that laced your voice, remembering all the times he would wake up in the middle of the night, never admitting how little sleep he actually got.

Levi’s expression shifted slightly at your words, but he brushed it off with a dismissive grunt. “I’m fine.” He stood up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He was stiff, his movements betraying how uncomfortable that small sofa had been, but he didn’t say anything about it.

The awkward tension lingered between you as he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the disarray caused by sleep. He glanced at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he spoke, voice quieter now. “You shouldn’t stare at people when they’re asleep.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” you murmured, eyes lowering as you awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Levi’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer, then he sighed. “Do you want tea?”

He walked toward the kitchen without waiting for your response, but the stiffness in his steps didn’t go unnoticed. For a few minutes, you stand there in the living room alone, a strange mix of emotions settled in your chest—relief, awkwardness, and something else.

In the kitchen, Levi was standing by the stove with a tea cup in his hand. His back was turned to you, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. The warmth from last night seemed to have vanished, replaced by the familiar, distant version of Levi you had always struggled to understand.

He didn’t turn when he heard your footsteps, didn’t offer a greeting or acknowledge your presence in any obvious way. The silence between you was heavy, and suddenly, you felt like an intruder in a space that was no longer yours.

“Morning,” you said quietly, lingering by the doorway. Your voice sounded small, hesitant.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. He took a sip of his tea, still staring out the window. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat, almost indifferent. “Coffee or tea. Help yourself.”

The casualness of his words made your chest tighten. After last night, you had expected—maybe even hoped—for something more. You even joked a little in the car. But now, it was as though nothing had changed at all, as though the small, unspoken connection you had felt last night had dissolved with the morning light.

You stepped into the kitchen and prepared yourself a cup of tea, the clink of the cup against the counter louder than it should have been in the quiet apartment.

“I didn’t mean to impose last night,” you said softly, gripping the cup a little tighter than necessary. “Thanks for letting me stay and take the bed. It ruined your sleep.”

Levi finally glanced over at you, his expression neutral. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal. And I don’t use the bed much, anyway.”

You paused. “Do you still have trouble sleeping?”

He doesn’t answer. You took a sip of your tea, the taste of his premium tea leaves grounding you in the awkwardness of the moment. “Right,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “No big deal.”

The two of you stood there in the kitchen, silence filling the space between you as you indulge yourself with the warm drink.

“Levi,” you began, your voice hesitant. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. Maybe you wanted to ask him why he had shown up outside your apartment, why he had seemed so different last night. Or maybe you just wanted to bridge the gap between the person you used to know and the man standing in front of you now.

But before you could say more, Levi cut you off, his voice low but firm. “You should head home after tea. You’ll feel better after you rest.”

It wasn’t a harsh dismissal, but it was enough to tell you that he wasn’t ready to talk. And maybe you weren’t either. Despite feeling wrong, you nod and turn your back on him. The years apart had created a distance that couldn’t be bridged by one day. There were too many things left unsaid, too many pieces of your lives that had moved in different directions. But you should at least try to settle some things. Besides, that talk with Kuchel really got to you.

But something inside you refused to let this be the end of the conversation. You turned back toward Levi, your voice soft but determined.

“Levi… can we—” you hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, Levi didn’t move. He stood at the counter, his back to you, gripping the cup in his hands. The air between you grew heavy, thick with unspoken things. When he finally turned, his face was calm, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him—an intensity you hadn’t expected.

“Talk?” he repeated, his voice low. It wasn’t sharp, but there was a weight to it. “About what?”

The directness of his question hit you harder than you expected. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I just… I know things didn’t end well between us. And I want to know if we can…” You faltered, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. What were you asking for? Friendship? Closure?

Levi raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. He looked tired, as though this conversation was something he’d been bracing for, but also something he didn’t want to face. “You want to fix things? Is that it?”

“I don’t know if it’s about fixing things,” you admitted softly, shifting your weight awkwardly. “I just… I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to figure out what you really meant. He let out a breath, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. “You think we can just… talk and things will magically be fine again?”

You shook your head, stepping a little closer. “No. But we could at least try to talk about it.”

Levi’s expression didn’t change much, but you could see his jaw tightening. “You left without a word,” he said quietly, the frustration finally seeping through. “Didn’t even say goodbye. And now you want to talk?”

The pain in his voice was subtle, but it was there, cutting deeper than you had expected.

You understand now that time doesn’t heal everything for everyone. If Levi, the kind person that you know he is, still holds a grudge against you like this, you must’ve hurt him immensely. If you were still as closed off as you were, you would’ve told him off for this as you did back when you first saw each other.

But now, you flinched, swallowing hard. “I didn’t leave because of you, Levi,” you started, your voice wavering. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” he asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t angry—at least, not in the way he usually was when something upset him. He just looked… tired. Tired of this, tired of you bringing it up.

You looked down, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I left because I needed to figure things out for myself. My future. My career. It wasn’t about us—”

Levi scoffed, shaking his head, cutting you off. “It was always about us. Don’t act like it wasn’t.”

His words stung, and your chest tightened. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. You had left to chase something more for yourself, but in doing so, you had severed ties without even explaining. The guilt that had lingered for so long resurfaced, leaving you feeling exposed.

Levi took a step forward, his voice quiet but firm. “You just left, like what we had didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

You wanted to argue, to defend yourself, but your throat tightened, choking back the words. You remembered how things ended between you—how, instead of explaining yourself, you’d shut him out completely. You’d thought it would be easier that way. You were wrong.

“I thought… I thought you’d be fine without me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

Levi’s expression darkened, his fists clenching. “You thought I’d be fine?” His voice was sharp now, but it was the kind of sharpness that came from hurt, not anger. “You think it was that easy?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. “I’m sorry, Levi. I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know how to…”

I didn’t know how to be enough.

Levi’s frustration flared again, but there was something else in his eyes now—something raw and vulnerable beneath the subtle anger.

“Because I wasn’t enough for your dreams,” he snapped. “You left without looking back, like I wasn’t enough to make you stay. And now that you learn I’m successful, you want to make amends?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but the words got caught in your throat. The accusation lingered in more of an offensive way but at the same time, you get him. How could you explain something that had been eating away at you for so long? It angers and pains you that he thinks of you this way. But what can he do when it was your own fault that he had this image of you?

“I… I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice breaking. What were you saying sorry for? A million things. Two words are nearly not enough for your regrets and mistakes. “It’s not like that.” “You keep saying that,” he stepped closer to you, face inches away from yours. “You keep saying it wasn’t like that but I’m not hearing the explanation.” "I know it hurt you. But… it was never about us, not like you think. I just—" She faltered, trying to hold his gaze. "I didn’t know how else to handle things back then. Couldn’t we at least try to find some middle ground?"

Levi stared at you, his breathing heavy, his frustration mounting, as if what you asked of him was what triggered his anger. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out of him, as if he was too speechless and offended.

And then, without warning, he moved. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, hands caging in on your face. You barely had time to react before his lips crashed against yours, silencing whatever you had been about to say.

It was intense, almost desperate, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into that single moment.

It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t tender. The kiss was filled with everything unsaid, all the anger, the longing, the pain that had built up between you over the years. His grip loosened almost instantly as if he was giving you the chance to push him away, his other hand finding the small of your back loosely. Your mind went blank, your heart racing as you responded instinctively, your body betraying the emotions you’d been trying to suppress. You kissed him back with as much passion, a hand shooting up to rest on his shoulder.

With acceptance on your part, he presses his hand on your back, pushing your bodies closer together. Hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back. He pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, he explored your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

Levi’s hands slid up your body, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to gain better access. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth, every sensation, every taste. It was overwhelming, consuming, and you found yourself responding in kind, your own desire rising to meet his.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of you—caught in a storm of emotions neither of you had been able to express. When Levi finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t get to walk back into my life like nothing happened,” he whispered, his voice rough, his eyes still closed. “But I’ll accept your apology if you tell me one thing.”

You stared at him, stunned, your lips still tingling from the force of the kiss. “Levi…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say. You had expected an argument, maybe a cold rejection, but not this. Not the raw, unchecked passion that had just erupted between you.

You took a shaky breath, steadying yourself as the silence stretched between you. The intensity of Levi’s kiss still lingered on your lips, but you knew this moment couldn’t end like this—without clarity, without addressing the feelings that had been left festering for years. You weren’t sure how to navigate the conversation ahead, but you knew it needed to happen.

“Why did you leave?” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the anger simmering underneath.

You froze. You knew this question was coming, had expected it, but now that it was here, you felt the weight of it crush your chest. You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out at first. The real answer—the full answer—felt too dangerous, too raw.

“I… I needed space,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to figure out things. I wasn’t ready for everything that was happening. I wasn’t ready for us…”

Levi’s eyes darkened, and you could see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s not the whole truth,” he said, his voice sharp. “You left without a word, without even explaining. And now you expect me to believe it was just because you ‘needed space?’”

You flinched at his words, but you didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He wasn’t wrong. There was more to why you left, but the truth felt like too much to bear right now. “It’s complicated, Levi. I—I can’t explain everything. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Levi’s voice rose, his anger spilling over. “You’ve had years to figure it out, and you still can’t give me a real answer? After everything?” His voice echoed in your mind, the accusation laced with disbelief.

You didn’t know what answer he wanted, what answer could ever fix the damage that had been done. You had thought about this moment a thousand times before—imagined what you might say, how you might explain why you left, why you didn’t say goodbye, why you broke his heart without looking back. But now, standing here, with his anger burning in the space between you, the words you’d rehearsed felt hollow.

His next words cut deeper. “You ran,” he said, and you flinched, the truth of it like a slap. “You always run when things get hard.” You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t wrong. You did run. You ran from him, from the life you thought you couldn’t have, from the overwhelming fear that you weren’t enough, that you couldn’t hold it all together.

“You know what Hange told me when she first saw you again? You cried. You cried in her arms like a child. Don’t expect me to believe that meant nothing but missing a friend.”

You closed your eyes, remembering the moment you saw Hange again. The way everything you had been holding in, all the grief and guilt, came rushing out the moment she hugged you. It wasn’t just missing a friend—it was the overwhelming realization that you hadn’t let yourself feel anything for so long. You had locked it all away, telling yourself that it was better this way, that you were stronger alone. But seeing Hange again had broken the dam. You had cried because, for the first time in years, you realized how much emotions you’ve been hiding away. And in that moment, you realized just how much you missed the people you had left behind—how much you missed the old you.

“You always run when things get hard. And you always leave me behind like I don’t matter.” Hearing him say it out loud—it crushed you in ways you hadn’t expected. Because he wasn’t wrong. You had left him behind, not just physically, but emotionally.

That stung. “That’s not true,” you snapped back, your voice trembling. Deep inside, you know he’s right. But you didn’t want to accept it. You’ve put on multiple walls for the past seven years and even before that. You don’t know how to accept yourself and that’s the truth. But he never meant nothing to you. Not in the slightest.

“I’m the one lying?” Levi’s voice was filled with disbelief.

You didn’t want to admit it to Levi—not now, not when he was standing there, looking at you with so much anger, with so much pain—but he was right. You had left him behind like he didn’t matter, even though he had been the only thing that mattered for so long. You couldn’t deny that, no matter how much you wanted to.

But what could you say to him now? What could you possibly tell him that would make this any better? The truth was too complicated, too messy. You had run because you didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know how to stay, how to let him in. And now, all these years later, you still didn’t have the answers he deserved.

You could feel the conversation spiraling, slipping out of control. The more Levi spoke, the more you could feel the anger and hurt from both sides surfacing. “I didn’t know what else to do!” you shot back, your voice louder now, matching his intensity. “I thought it was the right thing at the time.”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t!” Levi shouted, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with frustration. “You didn’t give me a choice. You just insulted me and let me figure it out on my own.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for years. You could see the pain in Levi’s eyes, but beneath it all, there was still something else—something vulnerable that he was trying to hide.

You opened your mouth to speak, to try and explain again, but before you could get a word out, Levi grabbed you. His hand gripped your arm, and in an instant, his lips were on yours—rough, urgent, cutting off whatever you were about to say again.

“Stop it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Stop making excuses or I’m going to kiss you again.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air, and the tension between you was palpable. The heat of the moment was overwhelming, his nearness pulling you in despite everything.

“It’s your choice,” he repeats.

You searched his face, trying to find the right words, something that would break through the anger and pain, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for more of your excuses and vague words.

“Levi…” you whispered, but before you could say anything more, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips, the threat of another kiss looming between you. You knew he meant every word, and the intensity of it all made your heart pound even harder.

His voice was rough, but there was something raw beneath it, something unspoken that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m serious. One more excuse, and I won’t stop myself.”

You swallowed hard, torn between the instinct to push him away and the undeniable pull that still lingered between you. The anger and hurt were still there, but so was everything else—the longing, the lust.

The room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking as Levi’s words echoed in your mind. The look in his eyes dared you to say something more, but the weight of everything kept you silent. And maybe it was the way he had already kissed you two times that you yearned for more.

Maybe it was how he looked awfully beautiful in his in-house morning clothes. Maybe it was the way his lips looked soft enough as a pillow that you want to lie on. Maybe you just missed his touch that you weren’t able to think straight. Maybe it was the pain—the longing that threw all the rationalities out of the window.

“Kiss me again.”

Levi’s eyes widened for a moment, a flash of pain across his glossy eyes until it was replaced by clouded lust.

He leaned in with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, as if he was fighting his own desires. You almost flinch when his head drops on your shoulder, subtly nuzzling his nose on the skin of your neck.

“Then at least tell me this,” he mutters. “Are you really okay now?”

Tears fill your eyes and you let out a deep exhale.

“Yes,” I whisper while nodding, looking straight ahead. “Yes, I am.”

And that wasn’t a lie. He knows that.

With a soft groan, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His tongue dances with yours, his hand sliding up your back to cup your head, pulling you even closer. His other hand moves to your waist, his fingers gripping your hips as he deepens the kiss.

You start letting out soft grunts as if trying to tell him how pleasurable it is for you, as he latches his lips to the curve of your neck. You gasp for air when he sucks on your sensitive skin, only the ceiling in sight as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It had you holding on his shoulder for dear life.

"Levi," you moan, shivering and grasping at his hair as he attacks your neck with open-mouth kisses. Levi nips at your jaw next, harsh as if he was devouring you.

His roaming hands finally made their way to your chest, palm over your breast. He squeezes once, slowly but hard. Realizing your shirt was getting in the way, his hand slips inside the skin tight cloth to the clasp of your bra.

And then he freezes.

As if he was thrown ice-cold water, he pulls away. He stumbled back a step, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide in shock. His gaze flickered between you and the space between you, as though he was trying to make sense of the moment. You stare back at him, breathless and probably looking like a mess.

You blink, your own breathing labored, and the reality of what just happened hit you like a wave.

You continued to stare at him, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The tension that had been building, the unspoken emotions, the years of unresolved feelings—it had all come to a head in that kiss. And now you were both standing there, stunned by the gravity of what had just happened.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. His usual composed self had cracked, and you could see the confusion and regret warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't find the right words.

The silence was unbearable. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but nothing came out. You just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, realizing that the line between you and Levi had just been blurred in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Levi finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. "I... Sorry." His eyes dropped to the floor, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. “I think we got carried away.”

You couldn't find your voice, your mind still reeling. You knew he was right—this wasn't supposed to happen. But it had.

And now everything feels even more complicated than ever before.

When are you going to make the right decision?

Levi’s grip on the counter was tight, his knuckles white, as if holding onto something solid could stop the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside him. His broad back was tense, shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for something. You watched him, feeling the weight of the silence between you both, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The view of his back reminded you too much of that night—the night you walked away, leaving him with his heart shattered, and now here you were again, uncertain, fragile.

Your heart raced in your chest, waiting, praying for him to break the silence. You needed him to speak, to say something, anything to ground you in the moment, to pull you away from the memories. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the quiet, low and careful.

“I can offer friendship,” `he said, his voice strained, as if the words were dragging out of him. “Slowly. If you want it.”

Your stomach twisted at his offer. Friendship. The idea felt both like a lifeline and a blade. After everything, all the history, the love, the pain, he was offering you the safety of friendship because that’s what Levi did—he built walls to protect what was left of himself. You could hear the fear behind his words, the hesitation, like he was terrified of opening himself up to you again. And yet, part of you understood. Starting over felt impossible; you’d both been broken by what happened, and it scared him just as much as it scared you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. “Is that what you want?”

His shoulders shifted slightly, but he didn’t turn to face you. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. “But I know I can’t… risk everything again. Not right now.”

His words stung, but you couldn’t blame him. The kiss had stirred things up, emotions both of you had buried long ago, and now you were both standing on the edge of something dangerous, something you weren’t sure either of you could survive if it went wrong again.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what you wanted. Did you want friendship? Could you even be just friends with him after everything? The thought seemed impossible. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was all either of you could handle right now.

“Okay,” you whispered, unsure if you meant it, but needing to say something. “Friends, then.”

Levi exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath the entire time, but he still didn’t turn around. The silence stretched on again, heavy with the weight of everything left unspoken between you. You could feel it in the air—the unresolved hurt, the lingering desire, and now this fragile truce you were trying to build, one step at a time.

The sight of his back still haunted you, a reminder of all the ways you’d hurt him before. But this time, as painful as it was, you stayed. You weren’t walking away. Not again.

You stepped closer but not approaching him entirely, careful not to break the chance given to you. You don’t know what to do with yourself—how to step outside yourself. But you were willing to try.

“I’ll make it up to you, Levi,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

Those words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of promises that neither of you knew if you could keep. The truth was, you didn’t know how you’d make it up to him. How could you? After everything that had happened, after all the years you’d spent apart, it felt impossible to bridge the distance between you. But you had to try. He was giving you this—friendship, the smallest of openings—and you would take it, even if it hurt. Because it was Levi.

Levi, the one person who had meant more to you than anyone else.

And now, standing in his kitchen, the same man who had once been your entire world was offering you a lifeline, even if it was wrapped in his own fear and hesitation. You could feel his reluctance, the way he was trying to protect himself from being hurt again. But you could also sense the vulnerability beneath it all, the part of him that still cared, despite everything.

You didn’t expect him to answer right away. Levi was always slow to speak when it came to his feelings. He wasn’t the type to lay everything out in the open. You knew that about him. But still, the longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious you became. Maybe you had said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn’t believe you could make it up to him. Maybe he didn’t believe in second chances.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, though you could hear the cracks in his composure. “Alright. Make it up to me.”

Levi felt her drifting away.

It was in the middle of the last semester before they graduated. Obviously, their schedules were hectic. She was barely around to study with him. Before, even if they were as busy as this, they would find time to be together, and even if they were not remotely doing anything romantic per se, they were still together, spending time and feeling each other’s warmth. Levi couldn’t even keep up with what she’s doing anymore, always running around somewhere he doesn’t know about. Whenever he asks, you do tell him but it’s not like he could force you to stop. Before he knew it, things were piling up on him too.

That night, Levi hadn’t seen you for over a week. Your conversations had become few and far between, your texts cold and distant. But he convinced himself it was just stress. You were busy; you both were. He planned a quiet evening together, something to help you both relax and remind you that everything was going to be fine.

You just needed a break, that’s what he told himself.

So when the doorbell rang unexpectedly, his heart skipped. Maybe you’d missed him as much as he missed you. The past weeks had driven him crazy. All he wanted was to see you, to hold you, to feel like you were still okay. With him, with the two of you.

Levi opened the door, excitement barely contained in his movements. There you were, standing still and quiet on his doorstep. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, a rare gesture from him, one he reserved almost entirely for you. But something was wrong. Your body was stiff, unmoving in his arms. It felt like hugging a mannequin—cold and unresponsive. It worried him but hasn't addressed it yet.

“I’m almost done cooking pasta,” he informs you, guiding you to the kitchen. You follow him quietly, grim and almost soullessly. It was time that he had enough of you looking like that. He needed to know what was on your mind.

“Baby?” he whispered, worry creeping into his voice.

He stepped back, reluctantly letting you go, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of warmth, of familiarity. But there was none. You look up to face him with an expression he didn’t recognize—cold, distant, like a stranger. His heart dropped.

Levi repeated by calling your name, this time more carefully, as if saying your name too loudly might shatter you. His voice was soft, pleading, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Levi,” you said, but your voice was distant, detached. You said his name like it was unfamiliar, like you’d never said it before, as if you were reading it off a page.

A knot twisted in his chest. “Baby… what—are you okay?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, and when you spoke again, your words came out softly but with an edge that cut straight through him. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart sank further. “What do you mean?” His voice was calm, but inside, he was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He knew what you were saying, but he wasn’t ready to face it. As he says that, he leans on the kitchen for support for whatever you had to say.

“This,” you said, gesturing between you two. “Us. It’s not working.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” he snapped, frustration bubbling up inside him.

“Us, Levi. We’re not working,” you said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for misunderstanding.

Levi didn’t respond at first. He just stared at the floor, the tension between you thick and heavy. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t heard you, or if he was just trying to figure out how to respond. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head, his voice growing desperate. “Don’t be like that. Tell me what’s wrong. I—I’ll make it work.”

You shook your head, your expression unchanging. “You.”

“Me?” His jaw clenched, frustration and hurt swirling inside him. His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the edge of frustration underneath. “What do you mean, me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. He can see that you were having a hard time. “I don’t see you anymore,” you said, your voice cracking just a little.

He scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward you. “Of course you don’t! You’ve been pushing me away! I’ve been trying to see you, to be with you, but you’ve shut me out. Is that all this is?”

“No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you said, exasperation seeping into your voice.

“Then what?” he demanded, his voice rising as the desperation took over.

You hesitated, your breath shaky. “I don’t… see you in my future.”

The room fell silent. The air grew thick with the weight of your words. Levi’s eyes widened as he processed what you had just said, each word feeling like a punch to the gut.

“What?” His voice came out weak, barely above a whisper. “What?” He repeated, louder this time, his disbelief palpable.

“My plans, your plans… they don’t align,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the words was too much.

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head slightly. “I’ll make them align. It’s not as hard as you think.”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, your voice steady, but the finality in your tone sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, it is! You just don’t want to take the risk, do you? You don’t want to take a chance on us, on me.” Levi’s eyes flickered with something—hurt, anger, disappointment—it was hard to tell.

“…No, I don’t,” you admitted after a long, agonizing pause.

A bitter laugh escaped Levi’s lips. “So that’s it, huh? You think so little of me?”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering. “You don’t have a plan, Levi. You’re getting a business degree because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t have dreams, not like I do. I can’t afford to take that risk with you,” you babbled on, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of your own words crushing you. “But I can’t stay.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Have you always thought this about me? Always?”

“Yes,” you said, without hesitation.

Levi’s face hardened. He turned away from you, his back tense. “Is that why you’ve always put me last? Because you think I’m just some spoiled, grumpy brat?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone flat, emotionless.

“So I’m supposed to believe you never loved me at all?” His voice cracked, anger and heartbreak bleeding into each word.

Levi stood still, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought he might say something—anything to make you stay. But when he turned back to face you, his eyes were cold, detached.

“No,” you whispered. “I did love you.”

Levi’s heart sunk more than it could. Did. So you don’t even love him now? He doesn’t understand. He wants you to make him understand.

“Then why?” he asked, voice trembling. “Why are you throwing us away?”

Your eyes finally lifted to meet his, and the softness in your gaze returned, just for a moment. “Because I have to. You’re the only part of my life I’m willing to let go.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Levi stood frozen, his back still at you, his world crumbling around him.

The weight of that sentence crushed him, making him feel small, insignificant, like everything he’d thought you two had built meant nothing. Out of all the things in your life—the stress, the pressure, the struggles—he was the easiest to discard. It was as if his presence, his love, had been optional all along, something you could abandon when things got too heavy.

He had always tried to be your constant, your steady hand when everything else felt out of control. And now, hearing that he was the only part of your life you could afford to lose, he realized just how replaceable he’d been to you. It tore at him, leaving him feeling hollow and questioning whether he’d ever really mattered at all.

But what can he do when you’ve made up your mind?

And so, even though it hurt more than he ever thought it would, he let you go.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “Do what you need to do.”

He just stood there, watching you go, the start of the distance between you two that would only grow as the years go on.

He could still remember that night vividly, the finality of your words sinking in as you walked out of his apartment, out of his life. He replayed every moment over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. How had he not seen it coming? He thought everything was fine, maybe strained, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. He was wrong.

Everyday went on like he was dragging his feet. You would not even look at him on campus, making it so that his schedule would not align with yours.

Hange and Erwin were torn. They were his friend first but you had already wiggled your way into their hearts. Despite you hurting him, he hoped that it was something temporary—a lapse of judgment, one could say. So, he gestured Hange to still accompany you at times, making sure you’re eating right and taking care of yourself. Even at a distance. He believed that he could make it happen. He would just have to wait for you.

That was until you left without a trace.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty streets as Levi made his way to the bar. Erwin had called earlier, insisting they meet for drinks—something Levi had been avoiding ever since you left. It had been a few weeks since graduation, and Levi still wasn’t ready to face the world outside of his apartment, let alone his friends. But after persistent texts and missed calls, he’d finally relented. He didn’t want to talk, but maybe being with Erwin and Hange would help distract him.

As he pushed open the door to the bar, he immediately spotted them at a corner table, Hange waving him over with her usual exuberance. Erwin gave a more subdued nod, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched Levi approach. Levi sat down without a word, not bothering with the pleasantries.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Hange said with a smile, though Levi could see the concern behind her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Levi shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Fine.”

Hange exchanged a glance with Erwin, who leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know,” Erwin said gently, his voice calm but firm. “We know about what happened. We’ve been worried.”

Levi stiffened, his gaze dropping to the table. He hadn’t talked to anyone about the breakup. The thought of explaining how you’d left him, how you said he wasn’t part of your future, was unbearable. But Erwin wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Levi,” Hange said, her tone softening. “We know she’s gone.”

Levi’s stomach dropped at the sound of your name, and he finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Hange blinked, taken aback. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Erwin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s left the city, Levi.”

Levi’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt the air leave his lungs. “What?”

Hange bit her lip before leaning closer, her voice gentle but hesitant. “I went to her place. You know, to check on her. I was worried when she hadn’t been around, and… well, it’s not her place anymore. There’s someone else living there now.”

Levi’s chest tightened as the words sank in. You hadn’t just broken up with him—you’d left. Without a word. Without telling him. “What do you mean, someone else is living there?” His voice was low, almost a growl, but Hange didn’t flinch.

“I spoke to the new tenants,” she explained. “Apparently, she and her grandma moved out a while ago. Sold the place. It’s like she… disappeared.”

Levi felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had known something was wrong when you broke things off, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected you to leave everything behind. “Why didn’t she say anything?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

Erwin sighed, his hands clasped on the table. “We don’t know, Levi. I wish we had more answers.”

Levi’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could’ve happened. He knew you’d been under a lot of stress, but he never imagined it would lead to this. Moving out of the city, selling the house you shared with your grandmother—that wasn’t just a breakup. That was cutting ties completely. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell him?

“I don’t understand,” Levi muttered, more to himself than to them. His thoughts were spinning out of control. The cold distance in your eyes that last night, the way you’d told him he didn’t fit into your future—it all made sense now. You had been planning this for longer than he’d realized. He’d been so focused on trying to make things work between the two of you that he didn’t see the signs of something much bigger happening in your life.

Hange leaned forward, her voice softening. “Levi, maybe… maybe there was something else going on. Something she didn’t feel like she could talk about.”

“Like what?” he snapped, but immediately regretted it. Hange didn’t deserve his anger. She was just trying to help.

Hange hesitated, glancing at Erwin again before speaking. “We don’t know. But people don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

Levi clenched his fists, his mind going back to all the moments he had missed, the times you had pulled away or brushed him off. He thought you were just busy, just stressed about school and your future. But there had been more, hadn’t there? And he had been too blind to see it.

“She didn’t even tell me,” Levi muttered bitterly, the betrayal cutting deeper now. “She didn’t even tell me she was leaving.”

Erwin placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t care, Levi.”

Levi shook his head, pulling away from Erwin’s touch. He couldn’t accept that right now. You had walked away from him, from everything, and hadn’t looked back. How was he supposed to believe you cared? If you had, you would’ve told him. You wouldn’t have left him here, in this city, to find out from someone else. Was he so repulsive that you would leave a city you told him you would never leave?

The café was suddenly too quiet, too suffocating. Levi stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. “I need some air.”

Hange opened her mouth to protest, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling her to let him go. Levi walked out of the café and into the cool night, the sounds of the city barely registering in his mind. He stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the passing cars, his thoughts spinning in a million directions.

You were gone. Really gone.

And for the first time since that night, it felt real. The hope he had clung to—the hope that maybe you just needed space, that maybe you would come back—it was gone. You had moved on, left the city, left him behind.

Levi pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. The ache in his heart was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on him until he could barely stand. He had been fooling himself, thinking that this was something you both could fix. But it wasn’t. You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought back to all the times you’d talked about your future, about the things you wanted to accomplish, the life you wanted to build. He had always assumed he’d be a part of that. But now, standing on the cold street outside the bar, Levi realized that he never had been. You had left him behind long before that final conversation.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, feeling the anger and sadness churn inside him. You were meant for bigger things, and he… he was just a part of the life you left behind. He felt insignificant, like a small chapter in your story that didn’t matter anymore. And the worst part was, he couldn’t blame you for it.

The day after you left, Levi didn’t even get out of bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His mind swirled with disbelief. He could still hear your voice, still feel the coldness of your touch when you said you didn’t see him in your future. It felt like his entire world had crumbled beneath him, leaving nothing but emptiness. Levi wasn’t one for breakdowns, but that morning, he didn’t have the strength to face anything. Not the day, not the world, not even himself. He was too stunned, too shattered.

Days blurred into weeks, and Levi found himself trapped in a cycle of withdrawal. He barely left his apartment, hiding away from everything that reminded him of you. His phone buzzed now and then, messages from Hange or Erwin, but he ignored them. What was there to say? He knew they would ask about you, and he wasn’t ready to explain, to admit that you were gone for good. The thought of telling anyone made him feel nauseous, like acknowledging it out loud would make it even more real than it already was.

At first, Levi convinced himself that you just needed time. That’s what he kept telling himself. Maybe you’d come back, maybe you’d realize you’d made a mistake, and things would go back to the way they were. But with each passing day, that hope dimmed until it was nothing more than a flicker in the back of his mind. You weren’t coming back.

And it was his fault, wasn’t it? He had never been good enough for you. You were destined for something bigger, something more than what he could offer. He was just… Levi. Some guy getting a degree in business because he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t like you, with your drive and your dreams. You’d always been so full of ambition, talking about all the things you wanted to accomplish, all the places you wanted to go. And him? He didn’t have that. He was fine with just being by your side, supporting you in whatever way he could, but he should’ve known that wasn’t enough.

Levi spent hours sitting in his living room, staring blankly at nothing in particular, the silence of his apartment suffocating. He’d barely eaten in days, and his sleep was restless, haunted by memories of you. There was still your perfume on his dresser, and every time he caught a whiff of it, his chest tightened painfully.

#levi x reader #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi imagine #levi fluff #levi x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #levi angst

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scaredpigeons · 10 months ago

Text

Aqua Regia IV: Screaming at the sunshine, singing in the rain.

Previous chapter // Next chapter // First chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

The honourable Iudex realizes that you are much more fragile than he is, and perhaps standing in the cold rain isn’t the best for your health.

Authors Note: little suggestive again, but man am i ever loving this awkward tension and inner turmoilllllll heheheheh

————

It was raining again.

He really couldn’t help himself, the emotions churning within him as he stormed away from the entrance to the fortress. He kept a calm facade as he eyed everyone— people going about their day, although complaining about the rain.

He’s sure he would complain too, if it didn’t feel so soothing on his skin.

It poured, and poured. He stood still then, watching as everyone around him rushed off, finding shelter or just running to their destinations as opposed to walking.

He could barely see three feet in front of him, the rain a heavy curtain on his angst.

How could he have done such a thing? So careless and violent?

He was well aware of the friendship between you and Duke Wriothesley. He spoke of you with Neuvillette just weeks after you were hired.

“Oh, you hired her?” Wriothesley said, smiling thoughtfully. “You’ll love her, she’s such a doll. Has she started doting on you yet? Wishing to cater to your every whim if it so pleases his honour?”

Neuvillette wrinkled his nose a bit at the tease, choosing to ignore the strange feelings stirring within him at Wriothesley’s comments. “You know of her?”

Wriothesley laughed. “Know of her? She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. We used to terrorize the streets together as kids. Sneaking out and causing all kinds of trouble. All within the law, of course.” He winked.

“Oh?” Neuvillette was genuinely intrigued. A friend of the Duke of Meropide was certainly a worthy character. You seemed to be interconnected with many aspects of his life before he even knew you. If he believed in fate, perhaps one might say it was destiny that brought you to his employment. “I thought you didn’t keep many friends, being quite isolated down here.”

“Is the honourable Iudex attempting to start a personal conversation?” Wriothesley smirked, setting down his cup. “Regardless, she’s one of the few people I enjoy making time for. Very genuine, very caring. One in a million, if you ask me. Don’t go firing her if she does something stupid like spilling your tea, she deserves this job.”

“I am not so petty as to do such a thing, your grace.” Neuvillette bristles. “She has proved to be an excellent assistant, and I foresee her continuing to do so.”

And you were excellent, he found himself caring very deeply for you. So when he rounded the top of the stairs to Wriothesley’s office and saw his hand resting so comfortably on your arm, he should have been fine, just fine.

Perhaps he should have cleared his throat, maybe verbally announced his presence.

But a dark, angry and possessive thing welled up inside him, rearing his ugly green head at the sight of someone else touching you, touching what was his—

Neuvillette hung his head in shame, squeezing his eyes shut at the thoughts running through his mind.

No, you were not his. His assistant, maybe?

No, this was deeper. More primal. It ate at a part of him and he wanted it gone. He felt so disturbed, so disgusting and ashamed.

You didn’t deserve these kinds of thoughts, they were ugly and unprofessional. You were an incredibly hard worker, kind and dedicated—you deserve the utmost respect from him. Not… not whatever this was.

Just as you ran through his mind, his sensitive ears heard your footsteps running their way closer to where he stood in the rain.

“Monsieur!” You yelled over the sound of water pounding into the pavement. “Monsieur Neuvillette!” You finally made it close enough that he could see you more clearly now, your dress soaked right through, hair damp and clinging to your face and ears. You blinked the rain from your eyes, looking around frantically until you spotted him, before you ran right up to him, clutching the sleeve of his soaked coat.

“Sir! Are you okay?” You said loudly, tugging on him slightly. “Neuvillette?”

“You’re soaked to the bone,” he said aimlessly, watching as water poured over your skin, eyes following the trails down your face and neck, until they disappeared into the heavy fabric of your clothes.

“So are you!” You looked up at him. “I know you love walking in the rain, but it's rather cold today, don’t you think?” Your eyebrows tightened with concern, a careful smile on your face.

Your question seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, and he realized that— yes, it is rather cold today, and you were standing here with him, soaked through. While he didn’t have to worry much about illnesses, you very much did.

“Oh, my!’ He shook away the pity party he was throwing himself, (a term he learned while working very closely with furina for many years,) gently taking your arm and pulling you towards his home, which was only a few buildings away. “Please, this way!”

You followed dutifully, and he couldn't help but think your skin felt too cold through the damp fabric where he held your arm as he pulled you along. He unlocked his door in record time, ushering you in and closing it behind him.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but—“ he stuttered, turning to look at you in bewilderment and concern. “Why did you follow me even after it started raining? You should have turned right around and gone back to the fortress! Or to your own home!”

You wrung out your hair a bit, letting the water splash onto his front door mat, which was now nearly soaked with the two of you standing, dripping on it. “You seemed like you were troubled, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He stared at you, now aware at how close you were standing to fit onto his door mat.

“I…” his gaze flickered in between your eyes, until it fell to the floor. He felt ashamed for raising his voice, even if it was out of concern. “You need a warm shower, and dry clothes.”

“Oh,” you said, turning towards the door, “I can just go—“

“No.” He said sternly. “No, please. Just one moment.”

He hurried upstairs to his room, leaving you in the foyer. He avoided making direct eye contact with his nest as he gathered up what he needed from his room. He stripped down his outermost layers, hanging them up as he went.

He gathered a towel, a washcloth, one of his spare sleep shirts, and a light pair of his nicest cotton sleep pants, (an older pair with a drawstring) he brought the pile back out into the foyer, and instructed for you to follow him.

He led you to the downstairs bathroom, setting the pile down on the counter.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, making some hot tea to warm you further. Please, take your time.”

You blinked at him in bewilderment, before looking around his bathroom.

“I…” you shook your head a bit, as if to shake your thoughts away. A rather comical action in his mind, but he was distracted by your form— which has started to shiver.

“Please, before you catch a cold.” He said, and you simply nodded at him, so he took it as a little victory and promptly vacated the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

——————

You were in Neuvillettes house.

In his bathroom, standing shivering in soaking wet clothes.

Clothes you needed desperately to get out of.

So why were your limbs frozen?

Why were you so awestruck at the fact that Neuvillette, someone who purposely kept people at arms length— had invited you into his home, urged you to get into a hot shower and warm clothes, (his clothes) and was probably making you tea as you debated just jumping out the window and making a break for it.

No, no. You wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself. You would simply do as he instructed, wait out the rain, and return home to pretend that none of this ever happened, for the better part of your sanity.

All you wanted was to make sure Neuvillette was alright. He’d been acting a bit strangely the past few weeks, and you couldn’t help but worry for him.

You gave your cheeks a couple good smacks, trying to pull yourself together.

Without putting too much thought into it, you started the shower and began undressing.

Within seconds, the water was steaming, much better than anything you had growing up, and a bit more efficient than your current apartment shower.

Neuvillette lived in one of the older buildings in the court, yet the interior seemed to be completely new and updated. You wonder how long he’d lived here.

You began the grueling process of stripping out of your wet and heavy clothes, hanging them over the top of the shower stall door.

You tried not to think too much about the fact you were standing naked in your boss's bathroom, and grabbed the washcloth he provided you before hopping into the warm shower.

You instantly felt better, and let a long groan of satisfaction slip as you let the water flow over you.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, suddenly remembering that Neuvillette 100% had heightened senses, and could most likely hear every sound you made, considering he could determine your heart rate from across a room. You did not want him thinking you were doing something inappropriate in his shower.

You let the water fall on you silently as you thought more about him, and his peculiarities that you’d noticed. You had a couple theories about him, perhaps now would be a good time to ask for the truth.

You looked around the stall, spotting some soaps and shampoos that didn’t seemed to be used very much, and you surmised that Neuvillette must have a personal bathroom in his room, or on the second floor.

You flushed a bit before you grabbed the soap, bringing it beneath your nose to take a deep breath, smelling the soap.

Yep, it smelled like him. And no, you would not think too hard about why you knew his scent so well.

Of course Neuvillette would only buy one kind of soap and put it in every bathroom, what happens if he decides to shower downstairs one night? He certainly didn’t have very many guests, considering Wriothesley told you that he’d only just now started opening up to others.

You chewed your lip as you lathered the washcloth in his soap, before scrubbing away the cold that still seeped into your bones.

You really hoped that the altercation at the fortress didn’t affect their relationship.

What even happened there?

Why did Neuvillette react in such a way? Did he think that Wriothesley was harming you in some way? No, he knew better than that, Wriothesley would never, and Neuvillette knows that.

So what was it?

You wracked your brain as the warmth finally spread through you, and the chill from the rain had finally left. You couldn’t come to a logical conclusion and decided you would ask him when the time felt right.

You finished your shower relatively quickly, indulging only a little bit at the warmth and smell of Neuvillettes soap surrounding you before you got out and dried yourself off.

Your things were still soaked, but Neuvillette had left some clothes in a pile for you, so you pulled them off the counter and held them up to your frame.

They were definitely his clothes, and your cheeks felt hot as you realized you would be wearing his things, in front of him. In his house. Smelling like his soap.

You felt like your face was going to melt off as you shrugged on the shirt, it falling just above your knees and the sleeves being far too long.

You’d never really acknowledged it before, but Neuvillette truly was a lot bigger than you, he was a lot bigger than most people. Tall, with broad shoulders and a lean waist that he hid under all of that finery he insisted upon wearing.

You eyed the pants he gave you, seeing that at least they had a drawstring, so you had some hope of them staying on your hips.

After pulling everything on, you quietly creeped out the door, looking up and down the hallway as if you were expecting him to be standing there waiting for you.

Instead, you were met with silence. You closed the bathroom door, and as you stepped into the hall, you heard your name called out from a room just a few feet to your right.

Your bare feet papped against the hardwood as you treaded down the hall, before you stopped in the doorway of a beautiful living room, a large sofa and comfortable looking reading chairs facing a rather opulent fireplace, which was blazing with glorious heat.

“Here,” Neuvillette said, standing and coming behind you. He guided you to the couch, having you sit against the comfortable throw pillows on the arm rest as he pulled a blanket across your shoulders. The act felt so domestic it made your heart lurch, but you just huddled into the soft fleece and tried to blink away your shame.

“Are you feeling the cold still? I have tea ready if you would like it.” He turned as if to go get it, but you reached out a hand, gentle fingers tugging on the sleeve of his freshly changed shirt, dry and warm.

“No, ah—“ you looked in your lap, removing your hand, feeling incredibly embarrassed at your impulsive actions. “I’d honestly just like if you sat with me and kept me company for now, if that's alright.”

“Oh.” He said, turning back towards you. “That should be fine, yes.”

He sat down on the other end of the couch, the obscenely long and ornate thing was surprisingly comfortable, and looked incredibly antique, though extremely well maintained. You couldn't help but mourn the space the couch left between the two of you, but you knew those thoughts weren’t appropriate.

“Are you feeling more comfortable?” He asked, eyes on the crackling fire.

The warm glow illuminated his profile beautifully, and your heart ached once more at how stunning this man was. You hated yourself for being so weak to something as superficial as someone’s appearance, but Neuvillette had to be the most beautiful man you’d ever had the pleasure to meet.

He turned to face you, and you watched his lips form your name as he called out to you in concern, obviously waiting for a response.

“What?” You blinked at him, watching his ethereal eyes reflect the glow of the fire, the light casting part of his face into the shadows of the room, making the contours of his face more apparent. “Sorry, yes. I’m comfortable.”

You squirmed as you realized your thoughts were at risk of traveling somewhere less than savory incredibly quickly, and you refused to ruin this man's pants with your shame, if only for the fact that you would have to throw yourself from the falls afterwards— and that might upset him more than the pants.

“Good, good.” He said, turning back and looking towards the fire once more. He seemed stiff, and the silence was becoming awkward.

You looked past him to the living room window, the darkness of the evening creeping in as the rain battered against the window, showing zero signs of calming any time soon. You were either going to need to learn to start a casual conversation with the Iudex, or this encounter would be the death of you.

#genshin impact neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #genshin imapct #genshin impact x reader

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day-drawn-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die. - "I want to live".

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. This is set in Act I.

Tags: angst....

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace.

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live.

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known.

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.

Part IX : I welcome my sentence, to give you my penance

--------

Into the night, turbulent thoughts led you to dark places in your mind. You got up, and stepped out. The campsite was desolate. Serene. You walked towards the distant hills. Alone. Feelings of loneliness, rejection, abandonment haunting you. The bond you thought you had built with another, these past few weeks, was perhaps too fragile to endure. A shared secret had brought you close. Only a yearning remained. Of what could have been.

He was holding her, consoling her.

You reasoned. The cool air on your face brought you back to the present. The great vastness in front of you, made you feel, insignificant. You had been too greedy, and had come full circle to the start. You were here back then. Rejected, and abandoned. But now....amidst the chaos you knew you did the right thing. You would trade guilt for your pain any day. You needed to bring order.

You needed to refocus.

The moonlight bathed you. You heard someone approach. You didn't expect him that night. But there he was. You looked at your cut, blood trickling down. "Stay back, Astarion. Do not come closer." He didn't heed your warning. Bad move. You thought through gritted teeth. You had overlooked every transgression of his. No more.

You reached for your weapon.

You swung it. The great hallberd gleamed in the moonlight and was met with two of his swords held in each hand. Anger coursing through you, you retreated and attacked. Again and again. What you lacked in martial skill you made up in pure bitterness. He defended himself well. He was more skilled in wielding his melee weapons than you were.

His eyes were as resolved as yours.

He hadn't uttered a word till then. But you were beginning to lose your breath, and your footing. You could incinerate him instantly, but that wasn't your goal. That wouldn't suffice, wouldn't calm your wrath. You hit, harder, repeatedly. He parried every single one, swift on his feet. Eventually he overpowered you.

He had a sword to your throat.

You fell to your knees. Exhausted. Still in the grips of an unfathomable rage. You cast Eldritch Blast on a nearby rock, shattering it to pieces. Only then did you feel your rage subside a bit. Spent, you on all fours, you hit the ground with a fist. He threw his swords in front of you. "Stop", he growled. "I'm yours... already" he continued. "Stop this madness. Why ...punish yourself in my stead. My body is yours. Just ... use me as you wish...punish me ... or use me for pleasure ..."

"However you like. As you desire..."

What nonsense is this?!. Does he understand the gravity of what he is saying? Has he lost his mind?

"I do not want you, Astarion. You are not a thing, nor mine to claim". You got up. "Why are you here, anyway?" You couldn't mask your resentment. You no longer wished to be caught in his web of lies, ensnared by his charm, in the illusion of love and desire. Yes you craved to be needed, wanted, sought out. But this... was just an mirage. Carefully crafted to manipulate you.

You were being used the entire time.

And you would put an end to that now. Fully resolved to not relent to his charm. To none of his advances. You braced for the next honeyed words he would inevitably utter, to pull you back into the dream he wove. But he said something entirely unprecedented. "I ....have nowhere else to be". He said, quietly.

Another lie. You thought.

"You abandoned Shadowheart? I cannot help but marvel at the coldness of your heart. But of course, you are a vampire. You do not have one".

You hoped to cut him. But why.

He looked at you, searching, with his eyes. Did you really mean that? He could try reading you all he wanted. Your face wouldn't betray your inner turmoil. Unable to fathom you.... He relented.

"She doesn't ...want me. She never did. All she ever wanted, all anyone...has ever wanted...from me...was pleasure. When someone seeks me out...I do not refuse them. It's what she did. So I gave myself to her. It's what I was taught. It's all I have ever known, to do. As long as I can remember...to be".

"It's, all ...I am".

Wait. What? Hold on...

"In another lifetime" he continued. Oblivious to the horror on your face. "I would have taken her to my master, Cazador. No one has ever sought me out, more than once. They never got a chance..you see. They either died...or were enslaved by my master." He looked at you, nonchalantly explaining his life to you... Not realizing how it made you feel.

Your words failed you.

Astarion was baring his most vulnerable self to you. He was being....honest. Was that really how he had lived ...under Cazador? How could Cazador do that to him? You needed to help him. The hatred in you, the seething rage was replaced with remorse. That you hadn't known ...about his man. About the darkness he was battling with. He was a prisoner in the past ...and a prisoner now, to the scars he bore.

"But now...is different". He continued.

"She did seek me out. More than once. And I was happy, to oblige. I was grateful. I was happy ...to be of use to her. She is beautiful...and powerful...and kind. I felt safe... protected. So, I served her, to my best ability." So ... Yes, you both found pleasure in each other. But she probably felt more than that about you, Astarion. Or were you so oblivious to the fact that someone can want you...for more than pleasure....it made you blind to ...her true feelings?

He needed saving. And love.

"Why abandon her now? If you devote yourself to her, she will continue to cherish and protect you. Im.sure. " you reassured him. "That's what you want isn't it?" You gently led him. Hoping to steer him in the right way. If Shadowheart could bring him out of the darkness, maybe he should ...let her.

He shook his head. He disagreed.

"I felt ...empty...with her. Around her. I had to wear my mask. Never let her know who I was, lest she throw me away, because I was a ...monster. I am a monster, you see. I'm prey on the living. I drink...blood." He looked away.

He really despised himself, you noticed.

The regret in his voice was palpable. "But you.... You forgave me, for being, who I was. I felt free...with you. I have never been myself, around anyone outside of Cazador's ..."family"...Returning to her ... after you...was exhausting. Unsettling..."

"I didn't want it anymore. "

"Didn't look forward to it...it was ... difficult. I was growing cold to her...avoiding her. She noticed ...I'm sure. But she never spoke of it. Which led me to believe she never sought me outside of ...carnal pleasure. Perhaps she had tired of me too. Perhaps I wasn't my best... with her anymore. I couldn't force myself anymore. I was happier....when with you..."

You wanted to heal his fragile heart.

"I do not want you for carnal pleasure Astarion. That's not what I need from you. I will give you my protection freely. And perhaps my blood, should you desperately need it." Astarion looked at you. That was not what he was expecting to hear at all. He was fully prepared to be thrown away. He had had several nights with you. More than he could have wished for.

He was happy with just that.

What had he done to deserve that? Him. Why him? He was the lowest of the low. A murderer, evil incarnate. Despicable. "But ...why? I have given nothing to you. I have only taken .. I have nothing to offer you...I have nothing...I possess nothing, The only thing I know how to do, only thing I'm good at....is ...my body. To serve...to pleasure ..."

"So ... just use me, please". He pleaded.

Must he be so used to degrading himself? "You can offer me many things Astarion. Your loyalty to start. Your cheerful disposition. Your strength... both of body and mind. Your... friendship ...your trust." You smiled at him. You could give me your real self, your affection ...your pure, uninhibited love... But you didn't say that. That was not something you would ask. "You can keep your promise to me from the other night. A reason ...for me to live on". You reminded him.

"I do need you too....your embrace... "

You said, as you smiled, you looked at him. To reassure him that you meant it. He looked at you blankly at first. Unsure. But ..then...in what felt, forever. His face lit up. "Really? Is that all you want...from me? Can I offer you ... Yes....i promise you...you have my.. my trust and my faith. My loyalty and my unwavering friendship. My gratitude." He walked to you. "You have ...all of me. Every bit of me. The monster and the ally. The sword and the shield. My ..self ..." He held you.

"I'm yours. Only yours". He smiled.

Looking at you. "Whether you need me or not, I'm here for you. You need not look further.. I devote myself to you. Till you...till you no longer want me". He held your face in his hands. His voiced suddenly tinged with sadness. "But even so ....I only hope and prey, that you don't abandon me. Can you promise me? After making me feel wanted, for who I am.... I would not be able to live on, if you threw me away too...I have no one else..."

He pleaded with his eyes... Before kissing you.

-------

Epilogue 1 -

Leave the flames and take a chance to be with me tonight

#astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #fluff #vampire #astarion fanfic

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oceanlipgloss · 6 months ago

Text

LUNCHBOX

MEPHISTOPHELES.

+ no warnings.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Nobles didn’t need lunchboxes. They didn’t share lunches on school benches.

Nobles indulged in fancy luncheons and had luxurious dinners. That was how he had always lived; not for decades and not for centuries, but for millennia. Yet, the next thing he knew, this pretty and horribly fragile creature had come along and spoiled the whole rhythm.

That did not merely mean his lunching habits, of course, or the traditional noble programme, or anything else like that—for the little butterfly had let her wings move a bit too fast, fly a little too far. She had let herself land on his velvet fingertip, twirl around in his brain, then sneak her way into his heart.

Do you understand what it was like for him?

She was messing with his mind and troubling his heart, spreading the nectar from part to part until the entire organ was contracting with his red admiration, and all her own.

He was a demon. Holy scripts of all kinds and in all languages told of how those like him are damned before their creation, and born damned still.

Goddamn it though, wasn’t she a demon too? She made disliking her hard, altered the rhythm of his heart; it pounded faster when she was there. Made him think about her so much, all the time, even when he had better things to do—more important things, like taking down a fallen angel, for instance.

Goodness...was this not an alarmingly strange phenomenon all around? That is why, for the first time in his seemingly endless life he actually and genuinely thought, ‘I am damned.’

How could he not? Was there even a sliver of probability to think otherwise?

After all, he was willingly seated next to a commoner on a school bench. So much like a silly school crush...

The cherry on top, though? The icing on the cake? The sugar rush to his bafflement? How he was heartily eating the weird stuff in her lunchbox. The flavours were very good.

Oh, dear.

Scratch that.

It was worse.

So much worse.

He was so, so, dangerously close to a human, a mortal woman whom he had not been very fond of—if at all—in the beginning, and for quite a long time. Their shoulders were touching. She was very warm. He could feel the mellow heat through the fabric of her uniform.

Were all humans this warm, or was it just her?

He would have to study that later.

For now...well.

It wasn’t just mere material proximity; it was not their bodies that were close only. The romantic tales and legends did not quite get it right, and many poets did not pen it properly.

How to put it...

You see, he could almost feel a quaint connection in their souls, as though mystic hands were tugging at the enchanted thread by which their spirits were tied. It was a thread impossible to see with the eye, but easy to feel in the heart.

And he had no way of truly knowing, but perhaps their hearts, too, were pulsating to the same song playing within them.

Unsettling as it were, the feeling and the sensations it brought remained quite nice.

Routine is a curious matter; it arranges days and nights, organises time itself—and yet, should they choose to, one can change it however they like.

Before this lunchbox ordeal, his hours had constantly resembled one another and looked nearly identical. They were too much alike.

He had followed a certain pattern, but now he had chosen to paint for himself a new excitement—an unprecedented event with an unexpected person—in that redundant schedule.

In truth, she was well aware that he did not hate her, so she was the one who had been incessant on spending this time with him. She was the one who had begun their little journey of sweet fortune.

She taught him new things. Sometimes she talked about profound matters. Sometimes she made meaningless small talk. Eventually, she made him think about how he would love to visit the twisted realm of humans with her.

With her, he realised that solitude disappears. Relations could be blessings. He was happier eating common simplicity packed into a plastic box more than he had ever been stabbing silverware into fine gourmet meals laid on exquisite china.

Never once had he imagined he would find spiritual pleasure in the company of this particular creature, this—truth be told—lovely lady. It appeared that fate had wished to prove him wrong in this subject, and so it was.

But when it had never before crossed his mind that he would one day come to enjoy her presence and bask in her warmth, how could he ever have predicted that he would long for that same warmth to be by his side?

Perhaps it was true that ignorance is bliss.

Who could know whether their soul will ever bind itself to someone or not?

Who could ever know the destined one that will rob them of their heart?

There is no need to do so.

Walking through time with an unknowing mind that cannot form any predictions and blind eyes that cannot make out a picture of the future could be pleasant.

What one cannot expect may very well turn out to be a great surprise, an absolute delight...or their sweetest demise.

+note: sort of word-vomited this one and wanted to put it up. [9.11.2024: did someone from NTT read this fic in reverse or smth 'cause glue ur eyeballs to the screenshot for a minute intimacy bar WHEN]

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me mephisto #obey me swd #shall we date? obey me!#om! swd #om! shall we date #obmnb #obmswd #obey me fanfic #the story factory

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 8 months ago

Text

the boy is mine (H's Version)

hi, no long no see in this fandom. but @carolmunson put out a call for writers and I wanted to dive in! see her prompt: here.

It's a romantic night in and that means that sometimes a lot of feelings come out.

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: This is a lot of fluff, but some minor heated moments. Post S4, cannon divergent.

______________

The day was boiling--no breeze to cut through the stiff air. But now, as the evening settles, the curtains from the open windows billow just a little. The air is a whisper on the back of your neck as you bring your knees up to your chest. The notebook slips down just a little on your thighs, but you push it back up to get the right angle. Eddie will undoubtedly have a snide remark about your position, but you know the moment he settles back down on the couch, he too will be curled up. Most likely around you, and you’re praying the night gets just a little bit cooler to withstand the walking furnace that is Eddie.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans.

You look up from the work you’ve been doing in coloring in the drawing Eddie sketched out earlier in the day to find Eddie frantically swinging open cabinet doors. He opens another door, without closing the other. Disaster flashes before your eyes. Stitches, a bloody puddle on the floor, should Eddie not be careful and--

Thunk! “Son of a bitch!” Eddie howls, holding the back of his head. In all his hurry, he popped up from the cabinets at the bottom only to smack his head on the corner of one of the open cabinet doors.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you call out with a giggle.

“Looks like 16,” Eddie calls out, eyes narrowed in a squint. There’s only four fingers up.

“Hmm, I think you’re fine,” you laugh but push up off the couch. There’s the slight shuffle, the almost silent peel of feet off the tiled over kitchen floor. Part of it due to the whatever waxy cleaner you’ve convinced Wayne to use. “Let me see,” you command gently after your approach.

“Careful now, I’m fragile,” Eddie pouts but pulls hand away from the spot.

“Gonna need a flashlight to get through this thicket,” you tease but gingerly touch at his scalp. There’s nothing damp so you don’t think there’s blood. Eddie tenses under your touch. “Sorry,” you whisper. It doesn’t stop the assessment, but you are more mindful of the pressure you’re using.

“It’s okay,” Eddie returns his voice soft like yours.

“What are you even looking for?” So far, you don’t think he broke skin. One good thing, but you are a little worried about something deeper too.

“A cup. I could’ve sworn I did dishes,” Eddie huffs. “I’m running out of, like nice cups.” You watch Eddie point to the plastic cup on the counter--ones that you’re pretty sure were holding some sort of soda from a gas station in their first life. “Those are the only ones left.”

“Honey,” you coo, urging Eddie to turn around. He doesn't budge, but you press into his back, right above his hip and he turns then. “Those cups are fine.”

“No they’re not,” he sighs.

“And what makes them not okay, huh?”

“You deserve your Coke in a chalice. Not the 7-11 trash.”

“Perhaps I consider 7-11 cups a chalice,” you return, pressing Eddie’s cheeks together. His lips bubble at the force and you plant a kiss on them. He tastes vaguely like vanilla. The frosting off the cupcakes you two shared earlier still paints his lips sweet even though it’s been a couple hours since they’ve been consumed.

“You know you don’t and so do I,” Eddie whispers against your lips. His hands find your hips.

“Hmm, I think I could be convinced.”

“You sure they’re okay?”

“Cups won’t ruin the night, I promise.”

You don’t need anything fancy. You never have. But you get it. You know Eddie’s always going to want to give you the best. The thing you just wish you could convince himself off is that it’s his best that matters. Whatever Eddie gives you is the best because it’s him--it’s him giving it to you. But you don’t think the words will penetrate. Eddie’s hard headed in his own way, stubborn to his core when he wants to be so you hope that actions do speak louder than words.

You seal your lips around his again and hum into the kiss when Eddie tugs you in closer. He’d promised a night in--dinner, movies, laughs, anything and everything as long as it was just the two of you. And he’d delivered thus far. Pizza had been called and delivered promptly. When you asked if he had any more Cokes from the case you brought over a week ago, he proudly declared he’d left the last two just for you. Your requests for a cup is what started this, but cups don’t mean a thing when all you’re thinking about is how the scent of Eddie presses against your nostrils and into your lungs like heaven.

You’ve missed him--missed this. Your new job took more time than your old one. Not a bad thing considering that it was only an extra hour, but it meant having a new routine. It meant one hour less in your day for you to get through the slog of laundry, and dishes, and bills, and errands so that you could sit like a schoolgirl on the phone, twirling your fingers around the cord to talk to Eddie on the phone when you couldn’t visit him. Weekends now are more sacred than ever and you cherish the thought of being able to spend quality time with your boy.

Eddie’s fingers press through the cotton of your shorts. He tugs you closer, and closer, and closer to his body. He’s warm--as always. But beyond that, beyond the wild curls that always call out to your fingers to be tugged on, or just caressed, Eddie is real beneath your fingers. Through the cotton of his t-shirt, you know what lies beneath. But you are grateful that the t-shirt is still warm. Arousal settles into your stomach, tightening your muscles as Eddie drags his fingers up your spine. But you pull back, the wet echoing smack of a broken kiss hanging between two of you as you both pant.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” you laugh as Eddie’s teasing touch moves further and further south on your body.

“Maybe I’m looking for a problem,” he teases.

“I am looking for a cup to put my Coke in to have pizza with my boyfriend while we watch movies we’ve seen a billion times. Because you are trouble.”

“You started it,” Eddie squawks indignantly. “You kissed first!”

His hand doesn’t stop traveling. He’s cupping you over the shorts and the ache hits you--bone deep but you don’t falter in your resolve. “Pizza. Movie.” It’s all you say before peeling yourself from Eddie’s hold. “Bring the chalices please,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk back to the couch.

Eddie snorts but you hear his shuffled steps behind you and you know he is following. The lid to the pizza box is flipped back and the melted cheese greets you with a hefty waft. You grab a slice, the cheese pulling slowly away from its neighboring pieces. Eddie grabs a napkin and holds it just under the slice which you can only assume is threatening to drip grease onto the carpet or your lap.

“Three good things,” Eddie commands as he reaches for his own slice, asking for the details of three good things that happened in your day.

You hum around your bite, the pizza still hot just a little as you recount the day. “I’m no longer on the probationary period at work as of yesterday which is great. No one’s breathing down my back anymore. I finally got those jeans hemmed. And I get to enjoy pizza with my boyfriend. Three things--your turn.”

“I got the interview for the record shop,” Eddie starts. “I actually finished a drawing, speaking of which, I swear if you get grease on it,” he laughs pulling the notebook from your lap and tossing it floor away from the coffee table.

“Sorry, sorry,” you rush out. “I’m still working on coloring it though. Forgot.”

“No harm, no foul. And lastly, I, too, am getting to enjoy pizza with my lovely partner, who did not do such a great job at making sure I wasn’t concussed.”

“I’m newly licensed to sell insurance. I am not licensed to make sure you’re not a walking threat to your own safety.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek--wet and greasy, but you don’t shy away from it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, turning to look at Eddie. His gaze is soft, big eyes dripping with sincerity. You think you can feel the adoration radiating off him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you, you know.”

Your first inclination is to shove it off with a joke. But you can imagine how well that would go--not well at all. “You’re going to make me blush,” you huff, ducking your head.

“Aw, no, don’t be like that. Let me see it. Let me see you blush,” Eddie laughs, reaching out to bring your head up by a gentle tug on your chin.

Your face is hot; you can feel it warming the longer Eddie takes you in. His gaze is intense, eyes taking in everything from hairline to chin. You watch the flick of his gaze, as he stares down at your nose, back up to your eyes. His smile is soft and sweet, like the stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I’m going to make you proud,” Eddie whispers unlike his normal bravado. Where you know Eddie carries himself with the mask, the loud and brash man unafraid, the quietest remarks are the ones that usually send you into a flatline.

“You should make yourself proud,” you correct. You’d be a flimsy goal--something akin to trash billowing in a strong wind. It could change all in an instant.

“Making you proud makes me proud.”

“I’m already proud of you.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to duck, hair falling into a wavy curtain around his face. You discard your crust--which you’re more than likely never going to fish--to a corner of the box and find Eddie’s face behind his hair. “No, you can’t hide either.” Your thumb strokes along his jaw and his eyes flutter close. “Tell me,” you return softly but it’s clear you want an answer, “Do you like that? Being told you’re making someone proud?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t?” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh, no, I do. But I just want to hear you say it.”

“I like being told I’m making someone proud.” The sentence wavers at first, like Eddie might not be sure he can even get the words out. But the end is strong. Like the mere utterance is enough to solidify the truth within.

“I’ll make sure I tell you more often then, okay?”

“Okay.”

His gaze drifts down and you know what he’s asking for, so you press in, lips sealing his again. A kiss soft enough that even you think twice if it’s real or not. Eddie hums this time, when you pull away, his head pressing into your shoulder. You can feel the smile on his face as his lips brush over your bicep.

“Your slices are going to get cold,” you tease when Eddie stays buried in your shoulder for another minute. The third slice you’d been reaching for will go cold too, but that matters much less.

“Let it,” he hums, burrowing now in your armpit.

You grab the TV remote before you reach behind yourself to make sure the throw pillow is in place against the arm of the couch for an added layer of cushion. Once you’re sure that it’s in the position you want it, you recline back and open your arms for Eddie to crawl into. He wastes not a second to settle his head onto your chest.

“Good thing we’ve got microwaves now, right?” you tease, pressing play for the VHS.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger thing imagine #h writes

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fatuismooches · 1 year ago

Note

Hold! Let me cook!

So, realistically, well not even that, it's a fact - language evolves and dramatically changes over the years, compare how we talk in this age to the letters of the past for example! The way we word things, how we formulate our sentences and the meaning behind them evolves with the context of current events, as in the use of modern slang compared to let's say, 1920s slang where they called alcohol "giggle water."

Now what am I on about? Well, I thought that hey: being comatosed for almost 500 years would surely mess up your communication, your words would be dated after all.

So here's the dish: Fragile!reader wakes up after 500 years, and can't understand a single lick of what anyone is saying.

A century passing = new slang and terms

Two centuries passing = grammar would have changed, but you could still hold a conversation

Anything past that? That's a new language! (See ye olden English from the medieval period, old English doesn't sound like our English!)

Poor fragile!reader spouting a dead language (old Sumerian) and the only one that understands is Dottore—

And, since their grammar would be different, the length they would speak would be different too! A bit hard to explain so:

[Reader: *Is speaking for a good thirty seconds*

*Confused cicin mage nodding along.*

Dottore, translating: "Your hair looks nice."]

Language anon here I just read your most recent post I served a cold-dish, room temperature, you were already on it 😭 I'm just gonna 🚪🏃‍♂️

ANON PLEASE, DON'T WORRY I LOVE THIS ASK SM 💗 And I was actually very much inspired by an anon right here so if anything, I'm also serving a cold dish as well 😭 But you're so right, the language of Teyvat has definitely changed a lot! From the way it's written, to new words, to old ones being now unused, pronunciation, and all that! Fragile reader was in for a shock for sure, because they would hear the segments and Dottore speaking in complete gibberish, and then switch back to the old language just for you. To reader, perhaps it's obvious that the language would no longer be the same but... it really hits them seeing it be so different right in front of them. You'd probably freak out a bit, considering literally no one can understand you, nor can you understand them.

Besides your lover, of course. Good thing he's a genius and made sure to preserve the old language for this day, and also program it into his segments. Thankfully, they are all quite patient in the process, as switching between languages is a piece of cake for them. I imagine you try very hard to learn certain words and phrases (how does one flirt in modern Teyvat? did courtship change much in 400+ years...? 🤔) in order to surprise him. Just don't do it too quickly... he will flirt back in much more advanced language that you don't quite understand yet and he'll laugh at your frustrated face. (AND READER TRYING TO BEFRIEND HER BY COMPLIMENTING HER BUT FAILING MISERABLY... you've been trying very hard for so long until he finally took pity on you.)

I imagine sometimes the two of them get jumbled together when you're feeling strong emotions, so only a select few people can really understand you. Sometimes, you still speak to Dottore in old Sumerian, if only to recall the old days.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #reader: so how do i curse in the new language? 🤨#SO SO CUTE!! im eating this before bed #but unrelated history is so interesting

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smilingangel582 · 1 year ago

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Afraid of nuthin'

Warning spoilers alert well until Heizou's hangout event and itto story quest

Ps. If u aren't a fan of tickling and friendly things that don't seem more your type and less bizarre, feel free to scroll down... thank you and enjoyyyy my loveliees!

(Lee!heizou and ler!Itto - featuring oopse... *clamps a hand on my mouth* It's a secret and a surprise ending)

***

"Heizouu!"

Startled by the booming voice outside of shimura's restaurant, the young detective Heizou almost spills his tea. It's the third time this month, at least... that Itto gets him to react so differently.

"Itto old chap... Maybe it's better to lower your volume down in public places. " Heizou squints with an assuring expression when the oni steps in almost slipping into a crashing speed at the fragile looking restaurant.

"Oopse, you got it my hombre," he salutes now, walking along with Heizou, who's in fact on his break but rather scavenging for some new intriguing mysteries under Sango's nose.

"Hey buddy," Itto speaks after a few minutes of strolling, probably out if boredom.

"Yes?"

"I'm interested... every instant I see ya, especially during the test of courage," Itto gestures comically as they walk outside Inazuma a bit "you don't seem scared of anything... right?"

Tricky... if he said yes, it would mean Itto will start a troublesome game of finding Heizou's fear, leading to trifling conclusions. Then if he says no... and admit he is. He'll have to spill the impossible. Truthfully, not even he knows what he's afraid... maybe when there will be a day that mysteries won't exist?

"Um... well Itto, I am a human so it might be dramatic to say I'm not scared..."

Either way as Heizou deduced Itto intends to investigate his fear.

Chuckling now "Well, say you are more fearless than an oni, but you are a wee human so I bet you are scared of something..."

Sighing Heizou shrugs and it took quite a while for Itto to even analyse and figure out anything.

Honestly, Heizou's job is still with him himself... no one can take his job. At least the traveller gladly isn't despite having exceptional skills.

"Maybe like me! Is it beans?"

"I'm a human not an Oni..."

Groaning even more Itto pouts a bit. Chuckling at the childish display of the large but kid oni, Heizou professes "Alright Itto, trust me... I'm afraid of somethings but I am not as brave as an oni... does that feel better?"

Oni grins but slightly accepting it. He turns to Heizou and then pokes side. "If I would say you certainly need to eat m-"

"H-hey!" Heizou arcs his back from the touch and backs off, tittering uneasily he states "Itto... space please..."

Curious oni is a dangerous oni, Heizou knew he's skilled to note that about him. Another poke but Heizou prepares by staggering back only to land on his back.

"Heizou? Are you perhaps ticklish?" A look of genuine delight in the discovery.

"H-huh why would you say that I-Itto?" Barely making eye contact.

The oni shrugs but helps him up and slightly offers a playful snicker, "ahh well my compadre you better watchout cause there is someone even scarier than an oni..."

"If you are referring to ghost-"

"Those too but!" He emphasises with a smirk, making Heizou connect the dots before Itto could get to the point. Gently trying to slip away, he stepped back, but Itto caught him without an effort by the arm holding it up as he began his conversation.

"You know who that guy is?"

Gulp, this is not good... if this oni really plans to tickle him, it's the end of his day.

Tactic one, distraction...

"Ah, look at the time... uh... my breaks over Itto... hehe, I better head ba-ahahack!" He poked his ribs now.

Failed... abort! Abort!

"Shikanoin Heizou, you will get a visit from the tickle monster!!" As if he never heard a single word from Heizou since that topic. Fingers immediately dug into his bare sides, beginning his attack properly.

Maybe he should consider a change of clothing since Lumine enjoys poking him here and there.

"Ahaha wahait aha, maybe hehe, I am ticklish buhuhut... ihihits nohohot ahaha feheheeear!" Pushing his hands off slightly averting his eyes to see if there's a crowd watching him struggle to escape a child oni.

Itto's strength is commendable when he pins both his small wrist above his head "Heizou, look here bro, fear of tickles is something everyone has tho some tend to enjoy it...buuut" his fingers lightly tracing his stomach now heizou feels determined to admit he's got a fear of the tickle monster -or rather tickle oni.

"Well you are a detective... might spill a thing or two... right?"

"Aahahahas ihihif a lihihittle tihihickling cahahahan dohoho thahahat!?? Noho, sir!" Heizou's right arm kept pushing him away though with no success.

"Oooooh" mistake, big mistake Heizou realised too late. Too late! He squeaks "NO! Wait!"

Bursts in immediate laughter when Itto tickles his under arms. Itto nods casually "I see, so you are not afraid of the tickle monster making you spill the tea... my bro, if you promise to say the word Onikabuto I'll let you go... but that means you will submit to this little interrogation method..."

Since when did this Oni became soo... evil? Or bad? Heizou was too busy struggling the tickles that are total torture under his arms. He shakes his head "SEHEHERIOUSLY IHIHIHITTOO NOHOHO MORE GAHAHAHAMES... LEHEHET MEHEHE UP!"

"Armpits huh?" Itto snickers enjoying this waaaay more than the victim. Heizou can't even tickle back due to the struggles he wasted. "Well tell me what's the password! Come on little guy... I'll let you go if you say that... hmmm?"

His fingers slowly crawl down, making Heizou giggle but laughing less, as they remain on their sides still tickling. He squirms and yelps "Ack! Ihihittooo! Plehehease!"

"Begging? Alright not so tough now wittle detective... you sure are cute for someone who's not afraid of nuthin'!"

Itto won't shut up. Is this for real? Is Heizou the detective resistant to any torture gonna go submissive against tickling? No way...

Heizou squeals now feeling the fingers crawl up again "AHAHA haha whahahahat thehehe?"

"Incyyy wiiincyyyy Oniii went uuup the ticklish sideees!"

"Nohohohot thahahaaat ohohoho myyy ahahahrchoons!" Heizou blushes furiously. Especially when Itto is singing this version very loudly for the whole town to hear. No! Just yhat alone is intolerable!

"AHAHAH ok ok!!!! Noho more singing!" He panics when the fingers swiftly reached his armpits not even tickling "OK! EEEHEHE IHIHI UHUHUHU OHOHONIKABUTOOO! I SAID IT I SAID IT!"

Itto burst into laughter now hitting his own thigh "Ohooo my! Yohou can't stand thahat can ya!"

"Uhuhunfair... it wahas embarrassing..."

"But you had fuuuun compadre??"

Looking at the excited oni he sighs with a giggle "OK ok... I did,"

"It certainly looked like it"

The familiar windy light voice makes Heizou's blood run cold. He turns to see the anemo vision holder Kazuha.

"K-k-kazuha! What b-brings you he-hear?" Heizou stammers immediately, blushing more at the sight of his former target and now close friend standing there with a fond smile. Smiling even eider Kazuha gestures to the crux fleet. "A trip back to my home again, of course, wanderers may wander, but i also wonder..." leaning forward over Heizou's face."What my dear friend is doing, as a detective that's intriguing..."

Itto applauds with sudden excitement but also getting their attention "My bro your poetic!"

"Why thank you... I see you discovered my friends weakness,"

Itto chuckles "Lil dude be going 'I ain't afraid of nuthin' so I found out he's scared of the tickle oni!"

Kazuha's airy light laughter suddenly draws the wind. "Whyy, he's adorable, isn't he... squealing at his age...?"

"Kaaazuuu, please..." Heizou grabs his hand to stop him, "Itto let's give Kazuha a tour, and we'll introduce you to his heroic actions. " he pulls him away instantly to avoid further vociferous teasing on him.

They were already leading ahead, and Kazuha poked him teasingly about the initial incident, making the detective more embarrassed.

Meanwhile...

"Waaaait..." Itto still ponders and murmurs."Such a familiar nameee, Kazu... kazuha... Kaeda... oh!" and then he runs after them suddenly, recalling"

"Mutso no hitotachi!!!! Waaaaait, I want to fight ya too! Wait, uppp!!!"

(A/N:Sorry about the spelling. I can't remember it... the end, thanks for reading)

#tickle fic #genshin impact #genshin impact tickle #cute #lee!heizou #ler!itto

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myreia · 3 months ago

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wip wednesday!

ty for the tag @lilas! 💖

tagging: @thevikingwoman @roguelioness @tsunael @anneapocalypse @bearlytolerant

shadowbringers aaaaaangst + lightsickness, exactly what it says on the tin.

“Put me down,” she says, her voice muffled. Her face is buried in his shoulder. “I said no chirurgeons.”

“Aur, you must see someone—”

“I said no chirurgeons.” She grips his upper arm, fingernails digging into his coat. “Don’t overreact. This is normal.”

“This is not normal, your heart stopped—”

“This is normal for me. It’s just a shame you had to see it. Now put me down.”

From the sound of her voice, it seems her strength is returning—and with it, her Twelve damned obstinance. Deciding it best to keep his mouth shut for now, he does as she asks.

While Aureia mutters something about being tossed around like a sack of popotos, he carries her to her bed. She is unbearably weak and fragile in his arms, as if she could shatter at any moment. It makes him sick to his stomach to see her like this. Biting his tongue, he sets her down and tries not to take note of the way her clothing has twisted around her body. The light in her veins is fading, retreating across her skin to pool in her chest, right above her heart. It glows through the fabric.

Aureia tugs at her shirt, wrapping an arm protectively around her chest. She raises hand to her lip and gingerly swipes the tip of a finger across it—the skin is torn and haggard, white oozing from the wound and across her chin. She must have bit through it.

“Seven hells,” she whispers. Closing her eyes, her expression relaxes into one of deep concentration and a greenish light spreads from her fingers, knitting the skin back together. Her injured hand glows, and he has no doubt that the cut in her palm is sealing itself beneath the handkerchief. It only takes a moment, but the effort leaves her exhausted and winded. “Funny how that’s easier now… Wonder what X’hrun would say, he gave me hell for being unable to heal. Unwilling, as he put it.”

He nods, barely registering her words as he searches for somewhere to sit. The foot of her bed feels too… personal. Too much. Too close. Leaning against the wall next to her headboard will have to do. “Is that so?” he says absently, folding his arms.

“I have a theory. I was never good with white magic. But when you have an excess of light incubated in your body, you happen to gain a natural talent for it.” She smiles grimly and rubs a finger across the newly grown skin. The white blood still sticks to her skin. “Ironic, isn’t it? Only when I am terminally ill do I finally understand how to heal the body.”

She falls silent, scratching absently at the handkerchief. Her gaze falls across the room, sweeping from the kitchen to the window and back again. Shaking her head, she tugs the bleached fabric from her hand. “Not that it matters now,” she continues, wiping away the mess on her face. “My hypothesis failed. I’m out of ideas.”

“We will think of something, Aur.” He says it automatically. It’s a bit pathetic, perhaps, how quickly he turns to baseless hope the moment she expresses doubt. But it is what Minfilia would say, were she here. “You do not have to do this alone. The others—”

“—are as much in the dark as I am.”

“Aye, but Y’shtola and Urianger—”

“—are knowledgeable in what they do, but believe me when I say there are some things that we do not understand. I have no doubt that together their brilliant minds can find a solution, but solutions take time. And we do not have much of that left.”

He swallows. “Then let me call on Ryne—”

“No.”

“She understands your condition in a way no one else can—”

“And I’ve burdened her enough—”

“She can help!”

“I am not going to put the pressure of keeping me alive on a seventeen-year-old girl!”

“She wants to help—”

“I can handle this!”

He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath. Why must she be so damn headstrong? “Can you?” he hisses, gesturing at the mess on the kitchen floor. “That is not what it looks like to me.”

Aureia rounds on him, red eyes blazing. “Thank you for your concern,” she says coldly. “But frankly, Thancred, I’m a mage. You aren’t. Your aether’s been fucked since Ul’dah. You can’t even charge your own damn cartridges. Don’t pretend you know what you’re talking about.”

#this is... chapter 2? in a fic i finished a little while ago #needs some more editing before i start posting it #ffxiv #writing tag #aureia malathar #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers

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hinatastinygiant · 4 days ago

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: cursed encounters :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

ancient curse (fem!reader x uzui)

WARNING! SEXUAL CONTENT 18+

back to... fated encounters, masterlist

The rain pours down in sheets as you stand there, shivering under the weight of your drenched uniform, eyes narrowed on Tengen Uzui. His smirk is the first thing you notice- and the last thing you want to see.

“Well, well,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looks you up and down, the rain doing nothing to dim his usual infuriating smugness. “Didn’t think they’d send someone so… fragile for this mission.”

“Oh, is that so?” You cross your arms back, defiant, even as the chill seeps into your bones. “Because all I’ve ever heard about your clan is how oversized their egos are. Guess it’s true.”

His smirk only widens, clearly amused. “Oversized? Sounds like jealousy to me. If you wanted to get closer, you could always marry me. It’d be that fastest way to get you in, you know.”

Your jaw clenches and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die. You’d probably just make me fetch your weapons all the time. Or, wait, am I too fragile to do that, too?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’d keep you busy, alright,” he says, leaning in, voice low and smooth, clearly amused at the way you’re growing flustered. “But not with that. You’d be one of my best, I’m sure. Although…” he pauses, raising an eyebrow, “... I think we’d have to work on that attitude first.”

There’s no stopping the heat that creeps up your neck, and his smirk deepens as he registers your reaction. He loves this. Every bit of it.

You’ve heard rumors of his ego, but actually standing in front of him, it’s almost worse. No, scratch that- it is worse. Infuriatingly attractive, too.

“Keep dreaming, Uzui,” you scoff, forcing yourself to turn away from him. “I didn’t come all the way out here to listen to your fantasies.”

He chuckles, falling into step beside you. “Hey, I’m just saying… If you ever need a clan upgrade, you know where to find me.”

Your eyebrows knit together at the sound of his words, but you decide to ignore him for now.

The two of you trek through the woods, making your way up the mountain where the demon you’ve been sent to find was last seen. The rain slows down, leaving behind a thick fog that makes the usual forest sound deafeningly quiet.

You don’t mind the silence, and focus on your breathing, grounding yourself with each quiet inhale. Moon Breathing has always come easily to you- a style as silent as it is strong, one that hides in the shadows, relying on subtlety and precision rather than Uzui’s flash and noise.

Uzui, on the other hand, moves like he’s incapable of blending into anything. His footsteps are heavy, his movements confident and assertive, and the tension of him walking close behind you feels like a physical weight pressing against your back. Or, perhaps even more precisely, like nails on a chalkboard.

After some time, he speaks up again, his voice breaking the silence. “So. Moon Breathing. Interesting choice.”

“Passed down in my family,” you reply quickly, not turning to look back at him. “But you knew that. Just like your… Sound Breathing.”

“Ah, yes. Big, flashy moves. Strong and loud,” he says, sounding almost too pleased with himself. “Can’t help that I’ve got style.”

“Or that you have to be the center of attention,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, I’m the center of attention, am I?” He sounds smug, and you want to smack the self-satisfied grin you know is lingering on his face right off.

You give him a fleeting glare. “I didn’t say that.”

“Sure, sure,” he hums, brushing your response off. “Though I think you’re a little too invested in this ‘feud’ of ours. Haven’t you ever why our families hate each other? Or are you just that focused on the curse itself?”

You tense, glancing down at the familiar mark on your wrist- the dark, twisting emblem etched into your skin since you were young. Your clan has always told you it’s a symbol of the curse, a reminder to never trust an Uzui, to never let down your guard around them. His clan carries a matching mark, you know. And here he is, like some living reminder of that damn curse.

“What is there to wonder about?” you reply coldly, casting a sideways glance at him. “Your family’s always been brash and obnoxious, bound to clash with mine.”

He scoffs, “That’s just what you’re told to think. Your family’s whispers in the dark, my family’s need for the spotlight- as you say. I think it all balances out, don’t you?”

The idea lingers in your mind, sinking in with a strange sense of familiarity. You try to ignore it, but his words leave a mark. It makes too much sense- the way you and he keep falling into a natural rhythm, despite everything you’ve been told.

“Look,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. “I’ll just go ahead and say it: I think we’ve been lied to. Someone’s gotta question the curse eventually, and, well, here we are. Maybe the cuse is a a way to keep us from getting close, but who says we have to clash?”

You falter. The thought strikes something in you that feels uncomfortably… right.

As night falls, the two of you reach a clearing at the top of the mountain. Uzui scouts the nearby area while you prepare a small fire under the cover of a low tree to keep warm.

“Hey,” he says suddenly as he returns, breaking the quiet. “Nothing’s around now. We should wait.”

You nod as he sits down beside you, scooting closer to the fire to keep warm. The silence between you is comfortable, and you keep poking the fire, watching the flames dance higher, scattering red and gold light across the clearing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him glance down at your wrist where the mark sits stark against your skin. His gaze lingers, tracing the familiar shape, his mount turning down in thought.

You chew the inside of your cheek, the gesture feeling oddly intimate, even as you try to keep your focus on the fire. “See something you like?” you ask lightly, a faint smirk tugging at your lips as you arch a brow in his direction.

His eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, he looks almost surprised or maybe caught off guard. Then he grins, and it’s a softer version of his sual smirk, on that doesn’t quite reach the level of his usual demeanor.

"Yeah, actually," he hums, leaning closer.

The warmth in his tone sends a shiver up your spine, and the tension between the two of you is palpable. Your heart beats a little faster, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

Uzui glances over at the fire and smiles, the red and gold light dancing across his sharp features. He looks almost relaxed, his usual smugness tempered into something softer, his expression warm. "You've got more fire in you than I expected."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I could say the same about you. All that flash and noise, yet you seem to be able to keep your focus. You're more... subtle than I would have thought."

He gives a small laugh, "Yeah, well, there's a lot you might not know about me."

The air is thick with tension as he leans in and there's a beat of silence as he reaches out, almost like he's thinking twice about it, before his fingers brush lightly over the mark on your wrist. It's a soft, lingering touch, one that makes the breath catch in your throat, your eyes darting to his.

"Uzui-"

"Maybe...," he murmurs, voice dropping to something raw and genuine, "maybe the curse isn't about making us hate each other. What if it's the opposite?"

Your mouth goes dry, and for a moment, the words don't come. It feels like something has shifted, the world tilted just enough off its axis that everything is suddenly new. Then, you blink yourself back to reality and fix your posture.

"You think it means we're supposed to be connected?"

The thought settles between you, fragile but undeniable, and as he holds your gaze, something in his expression shifts. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Connected. Or maybe just drawn to each other."

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, neither of you move. The weight of what's unspoken sits between you, the tension mounting as you both hold your breath.

You lean in a bit closer, letting the firelight flicker over the space between you, watching as his eyes soften, his hand still resting on yours. "By that logic, breaking the curse wouldn't be about being free from each other," you mutter. "But about... choosing."

Again he meets your gaze, something warm and almost hesitant in his eyes as he shifts closer.

"Yeah," he breathes, the word almost lost on the wind. "About choosing."

Your pulse quickens, and this time, you reach up, your fingers skimming the collar of his uniform with a slow, teasing touch. "You're awfully confident," you say, raising an eyebrow. "But I suppose that's what I was expecting from you."

It's hard to say which one of you moves first. Maybe it's the same for both of you, or maybe the space between the two of you disappears. Either way, his lips are on yours, the kiss slow and tentative, and for a moment, you forget about everything else.

You can taste the hint of rain and feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the sensation of his free hand resting against your waist making you sigh softly. Your fingers curl into the collar of his uniform, holding onto him like a lifeline, and for a moment, all the tension between you dissolves, leaving behind something new and vulnerable and beautiful.

When you finally break apart, he pulls away just far enough to meet your eyes, his hand still on your wrist. His voice is quiet, his usual confidence softened. "You still think I'm all bark?"

You smirk, feeling the warmth settle in your chest. "I still find you infuriating if that's what you're asking."

He grins, his thumb tracing over the mark on your wrist with an unexpected gentleness. "Guess we'll have to change that."

You smile softly and lean in again, your lips ghosting his. "I think we can manage that," you whisper.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue seeking out yours, the hand on your waist pulling you closer. You melt into him, savoring the taste of him, the warmth of his touch, and for a moment, none of the old rules or curses or expectations matter.

Uzui's hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples through your shirt. You moan softly, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you swing your leg over his hips, straddling his lap. He kisses a trail down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers work to unbutton your shirt.

"You're so damn beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low hum in your ear. "So stubborn and fierce and goddamn gorgeous."

You shiver, your eyes fluttering closed as he pulls your shirt open, revealing your bare breasts. His mouth finds its way to your collarbone, sucking a dark bruise into the sensitive skin as his hands squeeze and massage your breasts. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, and grind against his cock, a thrill running through you at the feeling.

"Uzui," you breathe, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his uniform, desperate to feel his skin on yours.

He pulls away just long enough to pull his uniform open, exposing his torso. You trace the contours of his abs, feeling him shiver under your touch, his hands resting on your waist. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," you say, giving him a soft smile. "I'm sure."

With that, he surges forward, capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands gripping your hips tight as he grinds against you. You moan, feeling his hard length pressing against your core, the friction making heat pool in your belly.

You rock your hips, grinding on him until he lets out a low groan. "Fuck," he mutters, his fingers digging into your skin. "Need to be inside you."

You reach down, undoing the button on his pants and pushing his pants and underwear down far enough to free his cock. He does the same, and soon you're both fully exposed, the firelight dancing across your bare skin.

He slides two of his fingers between your legs, stroking your slit before he slips one finger into your dripping pussy. He groans, his cock twitching against his stomach as he feels how wet you are.

"Tengen," you whimper breathlessly as the sounds of your pussy against his finger fills your ears.

"So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he pumps his fingers in and out, fucking you open.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, moaning against his mouth as he works a second finger into your cunt. You can feel his cock twitching, and you reach down, stroking his length, earning a groan from him.

"Come on, Tengen," you say, breaking the kiss, your voice low and rough. "You're such a fucking tease."

He grins and withdraws his fingers, grabbing your hip with one hand and lining his cock up with your entrance with the other. He pulls you down onto his length without much warning, burying his cock to the hilt inside you.

You gasp, feeling the stretch as your pussy takes him in, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure through you. He groans, his grip on your hip tightening as he starts to move, pumping his cock in and out of you.

"Shit, Tengen," you moan, his thrusts filling you up perfectly, hitting just the right spot inside you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his breathing labored as he fucks you harder, his hips slamming into yours. "Such a good girl."

You rock your hips, meeting his thrusts, feeling his cock stretching your pussy. His free hand finds your clit, and he starts rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

"Yes, harder," you cry out, letting your head fall back as he bounces you on his cock, his fingers rubbing fast circles around your clit. "Harder."

"I'm gonna make you cum all over my cock," he growls, his grip on your hip almost painful, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "I wanna feel your pussy clench around my cock as you cum."

You moan, your nails digging into his shoulders, your pussy clenching around him, the coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach.

"I'm close," you pant, your walls fluttering around his cock.

"Me too," he groans, his hips stuttering as he fucks you faster.

You shut your eyes tight, your whole body tensing as the pressure builds, until it's too much. You cum with a cry, your pussy clenching around his cock, your release washing over you. He fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic, until he finally pulls out, his cock pulsing in his hand as he finishes, spilling his cum all over your thighs and stomach.

"Fuck," you breathe, letting yourself collapse into his arms, his strong arms wrapping around you as you come down from your high.

You rest your head against his shoulder, the sound of the rain beginning to fall again and the crackling of the fire fading back into focus. You sit there together, wrapped up in each other, the warmth of his skin chasing the chill away.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly as you pull away slowly.

"Yeah," you hum, looking over at him. "I'm alright."

"Good," he smiles, kissing your forehead.

"We should probably get back to the village," you say reluctantly, the thought of returning to the reality of your respective clans hanging over you. "It doesn't seem like there's any demon here anymore."

He sighs, his grip tightening around you. "Yeah. I suppose we should."

You both dress, the tension between the two of you thickening with the thought of the distance to come. But as he looks at you, you're reminded of the way his touch felt, the way his skin felt pressed against yours, and you find yourself hoping this won't be the last time you see him.

And, somewhere deep in the forest, a demon laughs.

back to... fated encounters, masterlist

#uzui x reader #uzui x y/n #uzui x you #uzui tengen x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #mission trope #slow burn #forced proximity #protective tengen #x fem!reader #fanfiction #x reader

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