that’s what you’ve deduced from—accidentally, you swear—overhearing kenma on the phone with him. kenma’s fatal flaw is talking on speaker, no matter what, and normally it holds no weight because he refuses to spend more than five minutes on a phone conversation with anyone. and it would this time, too, had it been anyone but kuroo on the other end.
you’re not entirely sure when spending the night at kenma’s flat became a regular friday event, but its somehow turned into routine. you’d pick up take out after work, stop by your place to pick up a bag, then head over to his to watch him stream or take advantage of his netflix subscription. it was normal, nice.
and sometimes your best friend—the ever charming and buddingly successful tetsurou—would call to complain about how left out he felt and how it wasn’t fair you’d choose to stay over there on the one night he’s always required to stay late in the office.
except normally he calls you—not kenma.
so maybe that’s why you paused before entering his room after you got out of the shower. you’re a little nosy, so what? you thought if anything you could get a snicker out of it if you heard him whining about something. except what you heard was,
“tell them about it then, don’t go spewing your guts to me. gross.” kenma clicked his tongue in disgust, something he usually did just because he knew it ground tetsurou’s gears.
“are you crazy? i can’t tell them, they’d just—“
“either tell them you’re in love with them or get over it.” kenma’d sighed. “i start stream in five. i gotta set up.”
beeps signal that kenma’s hung up, and you don’t even realize you’re still frozen in place until he’s walking out of his room and making you jump.
“jeez, chill.” he quirks a brow at you, slouching further in his oversized hoodie. “i was coming to see if you were outta the shower yet because i need to pee before i get started. you gonna watch?”
it takes about two full seconds for you to snap out of it and shake your head no, giving kenma a small smile as you step out of his way.
“no, not tonight.”
a disinterested “‘kay” is all you get before he slides past you on socked feet and shimmies into the bathroom.
either tell them you’re in love with them or get over it.
tetsurou likes someone.
or is in love, according to kenma. but that’s just downright absurd, isn’t it? i mean, he’s your best friend; if he liked someone he’d tell you, right? he would tell you everything, wouldn’t he? he’d never keep something like that a secret. especially if he was… fuck, he’s in love?
it’s a weird feeling, the sinking of your stomach. you should be elated, ready to grab your phone and tease the shit out of him or something.
but instead your feet feel heavy and your chest feels tight as you make your way out of the hallway and into the living room. slumping down on the couch, you blink up at the ceiling slowly, mulling it over once more.
tetsurou likes someone. okay. but who?
you try to think back over the past few weeks; hell, the past few months—digging through your memories of conversations just to see if you missed anything.
could it be the new girl he brought up a while back? the one he told you he had to help work the coffee machine in the break room? or what about the guy he raved about getting to sign onto a new volleyball campaign? he said he adored his playing style. or maybe the person he told you about last week that works at his favorite café? he grinned really wide when he showed you how they wrote his name on his cup.
its making your mind all fuzzy, and you want nothing more than to grab a pillow and scream into it.
and that—that makes you want to scream even louder because why do you feel like this?
kuroo tetsurou has been a part of your life since you were thirteen, being introduced to him through your best friend kenma when you asked who always took up so much of his free time. and since you’ve known him, kuroo tetsurou has been nothing short of insufferable and every bit of a pest—which you say affectionately, of course. but that affection (however precious it is) has always been watered down. the version where you link arms with friends on the way home from school or pull a blanket over them when you fall asleep on each other’s couch. its been base level, innocent. forever hanging under the line of platonic.
but your heart is suddenly aching and you wonder if that affection hasn’t actually felt like that in a while.
because now that you think about it, as you drive yourself crazy wondering who the hell your best friend could possibly be in love with, you come to the realization that there’s a difference between your relationship with kenma and tetsurou.
you love them both, dearly, but you love tetsurou.. heavier.
you’d buy their favorite snacks before school but you’d buy two for tetsurou and sneak one into his backpack for later. you’d go to the movies with both of them but end up with your head on tetsurou’s shoulder halfway through. you’d give them teasing hugs and kisses on the cheek just to see them wipe it off but hold onto tetsurou for just a bit longer. you’d listen to them both always, but catch yourself paying more attention to tetsurou’s mouth than his words every time.
you’d unknowingly set yourself up to love your best friend and that means you’re stupid. stupid and tiptoeing on the line of heartbroken.
tetsurou likes someone, and you like tetsurou. and as you sit boneless on kenma’s couch, you almost can’t help but laugh about how much you wish that someone could be you.
rushed knocks on the front door make you jolt up in your seat. the breaking news you received has really made you jumpy tonight, apparently. you eye the door, then glance down the hallway, but you know kenma won’t answer it when he’s mid-stream. (he hardly answers it when he’s not). so, that leaves you.
“if you were ordering more food you coulda told me!” you call through the apartment, loud enough for kenma to hear but probably not enough to disturb his stream as you drag yourself off the couch.
there’s no answer from him, and the knocks sound again, louder on the door and more insistent, and this really is not the time for you to have to deal with some pushy delivery guy.
“god i’m coming just quit—oh.”
on the other side of the threshold isn’t someone in a fast food uniform holding a bag of lukewarm takeout. no, its none other than kuroo tetsurou, breathing heavy with his hand on the doorframe as he looks at you.
“hi,” he breathes, smiles with one side of his lips quirking up higher than the other in his signature grin. your stomach twists.
“hi,” you mimic back, knuckles clenching around the knob.
his hair’s a mess, the gel he no doubt applied this morning having fell from its perfect placement. his tie is crooked and he’s missing his suit coat. red cheeks and wrinkly shirt isn’t a fully new look for him, but it isn’t common place like this.
“what’re you doing? isn’t this your late night? and aren’t you cold? your jacket—“
“shit i—“ he looks over his shoulder and shakes his head as he turns back to you. “i left it in the taxi.”
“you hate taxis,” you state, because that’s a fact you’ve known since you were fifteen and you can’t help it. “you think they’re unsafe.”
“i know. i do. but i just..” he pauses, for a moment, looks at you like you’ve just said the most profound thing he’s ever heard. “i had to get here. god, my boss is gonna kill me but this couldn’t wait.”
looking at him is tearing you to shreds, like you’re being pulled in two different directions. your heart is fluttering but your stomach is tying itself into knots.
tetsurou likes someone.
“what couldn’t? did you leave something here you need for work?” you turn away from him to look back into the apartment to see if you can spot what he must’ve rushed here for.
“no that’s not it—“
he’s in love with someone.
“did you need something from kenma? he’s streaming right now, so..” you’re trying to distract yourself from the ache of your chest, staring down at your slippers so you don’t have to meet his eyes.
“no, i just—“
“is it paperwork? i think i saw some on the—“
and that someone is,
“goddamnit, i’m in love with you!”
this must be what going into shock feels like, you think, as the breath leaves your lungs and your heart skips a solid three beats. your eyes must be hilariously wide, you probably look like some fish out of water with the way your mouth is gaping open. you couldn’t have heard that right.. right?
“what?”
“i’m,” he takes a breath, stands up a little straighter as he scratches at his cheek—a nervous tell he’s had since middle school. “i love you. not in the way i always tell you, it’s—it’s different. i think about you all the time and i drive myself crazy and you make me just.. god, i don’t know. this isn’t how i wanted this to go.”
“how’d you want it to go?” you ask, because your throat feels dry and none of this feels quite real at the moment.
“i don’t know, something cheesier to make you laugh? spelt it out in volleyballs?” and the way he says it, the crinkle in his brow, nearly makes you blow out a chuckle at just the implication. “definitely not like this though.”
he gestures down himself and you can’t help but let your eyes follow, and, before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles out of you.
this is definitely a turn of events from the spiraling you were doing five minutes ago, and the absurdity of it is just too much to keep inside. you look at kuroo, in his disheveled, sweaty, drawn brow glory and you just..
you grab kuroo by the crooked tie and pull him in to kiss him, because this isn’t how either of you expected this to go but you can’t complain about it one bit.
it takes him less than a second to kiss you back, and he’s even quicker on pushing you into kenma’s apartment and up against the wall by the door. and maybe its a bit unorthodox, and it definitely falls into that level of cheesy he was talking about earlier when you giggle into each other’s mouths.
and as you pull away, slowly releasing the death grip you have on kuroo’s tie, the both of you jump at the sound of kenma saying, “gross. finally, but gross.”
you and kuroo watch him pull his headphone back over his ear and retreat down the hall where video game sound effects resume a few seconds later. then, you turn back to the man who’s been in your life since you were thirteen and you can’t help but laugh again as he leans in for the second time.
kuroo, you think, has been out here for quite a while now.
when you left to go meet with your study group—sometime between six-thirty and seven—the snow was just beginning to pile up. it hadn't started sticking to the roads yet, but you could see the vapor slip from the few leaves left on the trees; a symptom of early winter, you suppose.
now, though, there must be four or five inches out here. the old oak tree that hangs over your building is starting to sag, and the moon seems heavier than it did before, hanging lowly along the glow of street light.
kuroo is sitting on the steps up to your apartment, looking down at his phone. he has more than a few flakes in his hair, and if it wasn't for the ridge in the snow where he'd pushed it aside to sit, you'd think he'd been out here the whole time.
"cold?" you ask, shuffling towards him. you can hear the crunch of your feet under you.
"me? never."
he looks up at you then and, you'll admit, you like seeing him like this. lately, he's been against the whole 'text me before you come over' thing, and you know it's mostly because you don't reply, but, in part, that's so you can see him here.
his hands are half-tucked under the sleeves of his coat, and there's a stretch of pink from the tops of his cheeks to the tip of his nose. his lips are chapped (you can only assume from being out here so often) and there's a little smile tugging at the sides of his mouth, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth.
"oh, you want me to leave you out here then? give you a little more time?" you're smug—or, at least you're trying to be, anyway. the more time you spend with kuroo, the worse you are at pretending you don't like him. recently, you've been failing at that more than you'd care to admit.
"hey, i didn't say that." he sinks his teeth into his lower lip. "plus, what's the point of coming all the way over here if i can't see my favorite girl?"
you shake your head at him, aiming your chin towards the ground. in a strange way, you feel like you're suffocating.
"you mean the cat?" you ask.
and he chuckles, "sure."
a beat of silence hangs in the air for a second, before you plod your way up the steps, pulling your keys out of your pocket. you can hear kuroo rise behind you, attempting to brush some of the moisture out of his sleeves.
"y'know," you say, pushing the key into the door. "if you like coming over when i'm not home so much, i could tell the neighbor to let you in."
his hood rustles; he's shaking his head.
"where's the fun in that? kinda ruins my whole 'mysterious stranger' act."
"also kinda ruins the 'guy stalking the apartment complex' act." you swing the door open and make your way up the stairs. "i'm sure everyone is so enthused by the guy sitting on the stairs every friday."
a laugh, "oh i'm sure. if they report me for loitering promise you'll come bail me out?"
"depends on how much i like you that day." you can feel the heat of your apartment as you approach the end of the hall.
"really," he says. "if they took me in right now?"
"i would think about it." you pause. "maybe."
"wow." you can hear the rasp in his voice as he drags out the 'o.' "tough crowd."
your apartment smells like pine and vanilla—the workings of two little wax melters on opposite sides of the rooms. you turned them off before you left (you double and triple-checked), but the scent lingers, itching at your nose as you cross through the door.
kuroo follows close behind, scaping his shoes off on the mat before slipping them onto the little shoe rack in the corner. his jacket squeaks as he shrugs it off—a sound so distinctly made from the shifting of wet nylon that you barely have to turn around to identify it.
every time he follows you up here, you find yourself glancing around your apartment—looking for something that could possibly be out of place. something incriminating: three-day-old dishes that you know you already washed; your vibrator, forgotten on the nightstand, even though you remember putting it back in its designated drawer.
for some reason, you have a tendency to think that the things around your home that make you distinctly human are also the things that would make you distinctly unappealing. you're aware of how silly the thought is, but there you are, quickly looking over at your nightstand as you stick your coat back in the closet.
"so," you hum, rubbing a bit of the warmth back into your hands. "to what do i owe the pleasure tonight? you here to eat all of my leftovers again?"
"depends," he says. "you have leftovers to be eaten?"
"not this time." you make your way to the couch, and he pouts, following behind you. "but if i did, they'd be all yours."
"aw, you mean it?" you eye him. "i'm honored."
as much as you hate to admit it, this has sort of become habit. you come home a little later than expected and you find kuroo sitting on your front stoop. you're not exactly sure how any of it started—or, really, how the two of you became friends in the first place—but you ran in the same circles for a while and, eventually, you ended up here.
"well," he begins, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. "study group?"
"boring." you nudge your way beneath his shoulder. "practice?"
"thrilling, obviously. greatest two hours of my life, even. i think you could go as far as to—" you eye him again. "same thing as yesterday."
you chuckle, swatting a hand into his chest.
there's silence for a moment, something warm pulling through the air of the room. quiet breaths spill from kuroo's lips, and you resign yourself to listening to each one—in, and out.
he still smells cold; like the heavy, wet snow you have to shovel off of the porch the morning after a blizzard. for every breath, it lessens, bleeding into the heat of the room, but you let the scent linger at the base of your nose.
you're not sure how much time you've spent taking in pieces of kuroo, but you know it's more than you ever plan to tell. you know his hands take longer to warm up than the rest of him—he chalks it up to bad circulation most of the time, you know that too; he rarely spends a night at home because he doesn't like sitting in silence; he twitches sometimes, when he's nervous, a little flick of his hands; his favorite color is red but sometimes he's drawn to deep blues because he likes the sky better when it's absent of stars—he says there's something enchanting about the abyss.
he's too dense to know you're in love with him but too smart to think you're not. sometimes you catch him looking at you after you say something in a tone a little too far beyond friendly and you swear that he knows what you mean. sometimes, you think he's going to break the silence, and, sometimes, you think he never will.
tonight, he swings his head back, eyes lightly shut, slowly sinking into the back of the couch. you can hear the sputter of your vents and the sound of the wind against the windows—snow still trying to fight its way through the glass.
you're going to ask him to stay the night tonight—you already know it. you're going to wake up to him on the couch tomorrow, with his hair messed up, and his eyes half-lidded, and that stupid look on his face that makes you want to slip your tongue into his mouth.
you're going to think about that time you slept together last year—once, after a halloween party—and you're going to think about the way the inside of his mouth tasted; you're going to sink your teeth into your lips so hard that you're going to bleed.
you're going to consider telling him that you love him, that you always have and you think you always will, and then you're going to ask him if he wants coffee instead—hoping the smell of the pot is enough to make your head feel less fuzzy.
you're going to wait, and hope he says something, even though you'll know he never does. and then, next friday, when you come home to him sitting on your front steps, you're going to do it all again.
summary . . . your childhood best friend, eren, invites you to his christmas eve party, but your ex is going to be there. in order to get back at him, levi tags along as your fake boyfriend
contents . . . sfw, fake dating, f!reader, age gap (levi early 30s, reader early 20s), past unhealthy relationships, pining, fluff, humor, miscommunication, light angst, insecure and shy reader, zeke jaeger :/, not so friends to lovers, bff hange, she/they prns for hange — 12.3k
notes . . . my bday gift for my beloved that i have been speeding through the past couple of days, so pls ignore any errors. i adore him so dearly and he means so much to me. it's a little bit cheesy, and may be a little be rushed for christmas, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. merry christmas everyone i love u all so so much <33
“Are you even listening to me, Hange?” you asked, sighing as you leaned your head back on the sofa, taking a long sip of your wine. The alcohol washed over you, soothed the tension that was wrought within your body as the warmth began buzzing through you.
Hange poked their head up from the simmering pot, a cloud of steam wafting up under the lid. With the combination of vegetables and spices, you were pretty sure that she was making stew for dinner — and far too much for just two of you, by the looks of it.
“Sorry,” Hange said, sheepish, glasses falling down her nose. “I’m almost done, I promise.”
You frowned, but waved your hand, letting them return to the kitchen. Hange hummed a tune, their delightful mood such a contrast to the horrific news you’d received earlier in the day.
Briefly, your mind wandered off into the misery you’d let yourself wallow in, but Hange came around the corner quickly, stilling your anger. There were two bowls in their hands, and they gave one to you, letting it warm your own palms, the smell deliciously comforting.
“So what’s this about your ex?” Hange asked, interested, their voice expressive, attentive, as usual. “You got invited to his party?”
The scalding spoonful of soup slid down your throat, as you prepared yourself to start the conversation from the beginning. Hange was a horrible multitasker, though she denied it, and your entire half-hour of rambling had gone in one ear, and out the other.
Though, just as you were about to speak, you were interrupted once more by a knocking at the front door. You glanced over to the source of the noise, then back to your roommate, eyebrows raised. “Are you expecting company?”
Hange laughed a little; it was such a carefree sound, and one that always seemed to be spilling from their lips. “Oh, it’s just Levi. I told him I was making a lot of stew, so he could come over for dinner.”
Of course — Who else would be banging at your door at this hour?
You sighed, the sound leaving you in something akin to a small whisper, your expression falling in disappointment.
Levi Ackerman lived on the floor below you, in an apartment you’d never been to, living a life you knew almost nothing about. It had been two years since you’d met, when he helped Hange move into your shared apartment, and yet, he was still an enigma after all that time.
What you did know was that Levi was a few years older than Hange, many more years older than you, and he always seemed to be around. He was quiet, for the most part, but he had a sarcastic sense of humor that only a few people seemed to understand. Him and Hange were comfortable joking with each other; your roommate never got offended by his comments, ones that would’ve been scandalizing to some others.
For a while, their comfort with one another had led you to believe they were dating. You’d asked Hange about it one day at dinner, a fleeting comment, as you stuck a fork into your dish.
“So how long have you and Levi been together?” you’d said.
Hange had shot water out of their nose, fell back in their chair, cackling so hard that tears sprang to their eyes. You’d only stared back like an idiot, poked at your food, until Hange sobered, and apologized for embarrassing you.
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Hange explained, sipping on their soda, still smiling like you’d told the funniest joke imaginable. “Levi and I are just close friends. My partner lives a few hours away, going back to school. He’ll be moving back home in a year.”
You’d supposed it made sense, looking back. Their embraces were often stiff on Levi’s end, his affection coming on minimally. Hange was a much more touchy person, so perhaps, that’s where you’d crafted the image of them in a relationship.
Which was a silly one, now that you could see your error in hindsight.
“And Levi?” you’d asked shortly after, curious about the man you’d known—and still knew—so little about.
“Oh, Levi’s not with anyone,” Hange had hummed, rolling their eyes like this was a point of contention. “He doesn’t really date.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t like to.”
“Oh.”
That’d been that, of course.
You hadn’t asked any other questions, but in the months that followed, your mind had whirled, piecing together an image of Levi Ackerman that made the most sense to you.
He was handsome; startlingly so. Beautiful to the point that you averted your gaze when he glanced at you, your cheeks heating, palms sweaty. A thirty-something, intelligent, quiet man with his act together. He drew women to him easily, took them back home. . . perhaps a different one every night. Maybe he kept them around for a bit, until he got bored of them.
He’d never romance them, and they’d never expect that from him. If he called them back, which he did rarely, it was never because he liked them. It was because he wanted something from them, nothing more.
At least, that’s what you thought Levi Ackerman was like, in the times he was outside of the four walls of your apartment. Perhaps your stiffness towards him continued to stem from that caricature you’d created.
You sighed, bringing yourself back to the present as Hange let Levi in through the door, his shoes loud against the hardwood.
Really, it was hard not to form biased opinions when Levi offered up so little about himself.
When you did talk with him, which was frequently, the conversations always centered around you. He had asked you many times about school when you’d been finishing up your degree; Levi asked you about your job when you’d first started.
Of course, he never offered anything up about his job, which you knew must have been quite nice, nor about his family, which you figured must have been quite complicated.
And, as always, you were forced to wipe your hands on your pants, the sweat turning your palms clammy, as you scolded yourself for the fact that Levi Ackerman still made you nervous.
Levi’s eyes flitted across the room as he walked in, the navy blue irises cool when they met your own. He didn’t smile, but he made some sort of acknowledgement of your existence, before Hange had dragged him into the kitchen and filled up a bowl of soup for him.
Moments later, he was on one of the chairs before you, the bottle of wine in the middle of your odd little circle. Unconsciously, you had sucked in a breath, looking away, as Levi prodded at his bowl like he was afraid of the contents.
“Well, it’s not going to jump out and eat you,” Hange rolled her eyes, snickering, at Levi’s bored expression. “Just try it, Levi.”
“It smells different. What the hell did you do to it?” Levi let the spoonful fall back into the bowl, the broth dripping off the edge of the silverware. “I’m not participating in any kinds of experiments, Hange, if that’s what this is.”
“Oh, be grateful.” Hange huffed, crossing their arms over their chest. “I followed a recipe. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it down the hall to Erwin.”
When Levi said nothing for another moment, Hange made a move to steal the bowl out of his hands.
Quickly, he guided it away.
“No, no. I’ll eat it. Your cooking may be horrendous, but it certainly saves me time.”
Hange smiled, satisfied, reading between Levi’s cool remark, sensing a thank you in there somewhere.
It had been hard, at first, to talk to Levi, and understanding him was a skill that you’d found you could only develop with time. He had a dry sense of humor, said very little with a smile, and could certainly be mean when he wanted to be. His words were often blunt, and even when he was joking, it was hard to tell.
Once, when you’d first met, Levi had hurt your feelings. You’d tried not to let it show, but Hange had known, as always, and had squeezed your shoulder, reassuring.
“Levi’s just like that sometimes, but he’s a good person. Just give him a chance. I think you’ll find you’re a lot more similar than you think.”
Similar was a bit far-fetched, but you supposed you’d grown to appreciate Levi’s sense of humor. Perhaps you even found him funny at times, laughed at his jokes. He was kind when he wanted to be, even if his communication was a one-way street. There was a distance between you, but a part of you wanted to keep it that way.
Levi ate a spoonful of the soup, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. His gaze trailed to the ceiling, thoughtful, before muttering some sort of praise. “Surprisingly better than the last stew you made, Hange,” he said, and Hange was pleased, a smile widening across her face. “I assume your roommate had nothing to do with it, did she?”
You made a face at him, not sure if he was insulting you, or trying to suggest that you could’ve improved Hange’s cooking. Either way, you returned his dry tone, swirling your spoon around in the bowl. “Well, if I did, it certainly wasn’t to please your fussy tastes.”
Levi almost cracked a smile at that, but snorted instead, leaning back in the cushion of his chair.
For some reason, Levi’s movement seemed to trigger Hange’s memory, and they flung their spoon out of the bowl, splashing soup on the coffee table, as they pointed it at you.
“Wait, finish your story!” Hange cut off Levi’s sentence, and he frowned, but said nothing, getting comfortable on the couch.
Today, he was wearing a gray cable-knit sweater, and a beautiful silver watch that likely cost an entire months worth of your salary. His hair had been mussed a bit from the cold, cheeks tinged red.
Levi must have come from outside, you’d realized, not just downstairs. Another mystery that you would never uncover — how Levi spent his weekends, besides the time he spent in your apartment.
Distracted, you looked back down at your hands, hating the way that Levi pinned you with his gaze. He was far too attentive, his eyes too intense; even if you had been as confident as you liked to believe, as self-assured, you’d never been able to hold eye-contact with the dark-haired man for very long.
“Oh, that,” you said, huffing, recalling the news that had been delivered to you earlier that evening. Not so bad, really; you were making a big deal out of something so small. But the casual remark, via a text message from your high school best-friend, had been enough to sour your mood for the rest of the afternoon. “Well, Eren is having a party on Christmas Eve. All of our high school friends will be back home for the holidays, so I’ll actually get to see them for once.”
Hange smiled, their eyes lighting up, but the confusion in her expression shone through knitted eyebrows. “Well, that’s great!” they said, as Levi sat quietly, slurping on his soup like he’d been raised in some penthouse apartment, a view shining over the city. You could imagine him with a nanny that had been specifically hired to teach him manners. A playful version of Levi as a child was near impossible to envision — you saw him only sitting calmly, politely, hands crossed over his lap. “Why do you seem so upset?”
You looked away, chewing the inside of your mouth, your stomach turning. It was the last thing you wanted to think about, the way your two desires were at odds. How desperately you wanted to see all your old friends, the ones that were spread all over. None of you had been all together since you were in high school.
Yet, the other part of you considered calling Eren and canceling on him, telling him you wanted to spend it with your family instead, that you’d just have to catch up with them next time.
Who knew when that would be.
“Zeke’s coming,” you sighed, rubbing your arm. “It’s only been a year. I don’t want to see him again.”
Hange’s eyes widened. Slowly, she leaned back, nodding, as understanding flicked through her face. “I see.”
“Exactly,” you swallowed the last bit of soup, letting the warmth comfort you, wash over you in waves. Perhaps, it would cleanse some of the anxiety that sat riddled in your chest. “Now you see…”
“Well, sure I mean—”
“Who the hell is Zeke?” Levi interrupted, drawing your attention back to him, his back straight, despite being relaxed in the chair. Everything about him was so put together. Even the socks he wore even seemed expensive, his shoes by the door freshly shined. “An ex-boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend seems too kind of a word for Zeke Jaeger,” you spat, letting his name drip from your mouth with every ounce of hatred you could muster. “He’s a plague upon my life. I’d do anything not to see him again.”
Levi set the bowl down, curiosity piqued. “I don’t see why your friend invited him if he’s so horrible.”
“Zeke is Eren’s brother,” Hange offered.
“Half-brother,” you corrected, tucking your knees into your chest to rest your chin against them. “Don’t give him that much credit. Eren’s an idiot, but even he doesn’t deserve to be related to someone as awful as Zeke.”
Hange laughed, though you didn’t find it to be as hilarious as they did. Your scowl deepened.
“Anyway, Eren’s throwing it at his parent’s house since they’ll be out for the night — Zeke invited himself. With his new girlfriend, I’m sure.” Your rolled your eyes, tucking your cheek against the couch cushion. “She’ll be better than me, of course. Probably prettier.”
Levi studied you for a moment, reading the hurt that you tried to veil on your face. Usually, you weren’t so open with him. You didn’t like being vulnerable, and especially not with Levi, who seemed to view any emotion as a weakness. “I see the issue.”
You huffed, a sound of agreement, and played with the loose thread on the sofa. “Yeah, well, it was stupid of me to date my best friend’s brother anyway. When has that ever worked out?”
Hange reached across the coffee table to squeeze your hand, sympathetic. “Hey. Don’t do that. What’s done is done. Besides, what are the odds he’ll actually show up?”
“Uh, pretty fucking high if he’s staying with his dad for Christmas,” you scowled, rubbing your eye, makeup smeared on the side of it when you drew away.
Hange’s lips pulled together, flattening into a thin line. “Well…” Dark brown eyes flitted between you and Levi, who was looking at your roommate with something less than amusement. “You could always take Levi as your date.”
“You can’t be serious,” Levi said, his tone flat, lips drawing into a thin line.
“What? That’s… No,” you laughed awkwardly, growing hot, nervous. Suddenly, you were worried that your panicked stutter made it seem like this had been your plan all along. To get Levi to come as your date — which was ridiculous, really, but perhaps not so farfetched with the way he regarded you. “I can’t do that.”
“Why? It’d be a big old fuck you to Zeke Jaeger. Levi is far better looking than him.” Hange gestured to Levi, as if you weren’t already painfully aware of how beautiful their best friend was. “He’s better in almost every way, actually. Not that the bar is very high.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Levi asked, poking Hange on the side of the head. “Almost every way?”
“Zeke’s pretty tall.”
Levi rolled his eyes, dismissive. “Like that matters.”
“It does!”
You stopped them before they could bicker any further. Hange seemed to make it their mission to always rile Levi up — not that it was very difficult, but it always brought an amused smile to her lips.
“Hange’s right, though. The bar is not so high.” You shrugged, curling in on yourself again — just another reminder of how much of a mistake you’d made. How desperate you must have been to have fallen for Zeke Jaeger. Even Eren had warned you about him. “It’s a stupid idea, though. No one would believe it. Least of all, Zeke.”
“Why not?” Levi said. “You think I’d be a bad boyfriend. Think I can’t play that role well?”
“That’s not—” you began, but let the words fall away, sniffing back the self-deprecating sentiment. It wasn’t that you needed him to seem like a good boyfriend. Levi was unapproachable, cold, reserved, regardless of who he was with… Even his best friend. It would take very little from him to sell the performance. A small smile, a hand around your waist. Perhaps a kiss on the forehead for good measure.
It wasn’t that, really.
It was more that Zeke would know, immediately. Would see you together, and laugh to himself, because someone like Levi would never want someone like you. A statement as painfully clear as the color of the sky.
You didn’t want to admit that to either of them, though. So, instead, you narrowed your eyes, challenging Levi, perhaps, even, daring him to retract his statement. “Well… can you?”
“Which are you asking?” Levi drummed his fingers against his thigh, pale and slender, his nails clean, neatly trimmed. Distracting, almost. “If I can put on a performance, or if I can be a good partner?”
You shrugged.
Levi’s eyes narrowed further, thoughtful.
“I’ll go with you,” he finally said, after a near minute of silence, in which you weren’t sure what to say. Hange watched beside you, painfully entertained. “I’d like to see how truly awful this boyfriend of yours is.”
“Don’t say boyfriend,” you made a face, “and he’s pretty damn awful.”
The next few days, you’d mapped out something of a plan with Levi — though, there was little between you that you needed to figure out. It wasn’t as if you were strangers. Levi had known vaguely that you’d had a boyfriend up until last Christmas, had known that you were still close with your group of friends from high school.
He knew quite a bit about you, something you only just now realized. Levi often said little, but he was observant, picked things up easily. He seemed to know you better than you thought, and it wouldn’t be difficult to convince everyone of your closeness.
With that knowledge, you calmed, realizing that, maybe, it wouldn’t be so difficult to spin your relationship into a romantic one.
The story followed: Levi had been there for you after Zeke had broken up with you. You’d been friends for a while. He had asked you on a date shortly after. Simple — no outlandish lie.
Still, a part of you contemplated telling Zeke you’d been fucking Levi while you were still together. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway, but you wanted to see even a hint of frustration on his usually dull expression.
On your way back to your hometown, Levi insisted on driving his car, one that was a few years old, but still had that new smell, every single inch of it outrageously clean, each crack in the cushions vacuumed. There was hardly anything in the vehicle; a pair of sunglasses in the center console, some spare cash next to it.
He’d picked you up with two coffees, which now rested, empty, in the cupholders.
The two of you spent the ride mostly in silence, listening to a Christmas playlist that Levi had awkwardly switched to, as if he’d been embarrassed of whatever he’d been playing before. One hand held the wheel, the other resting against the console, tapping on the leather between you.
You stared, the movement of his fingers distracting. For the second time, you were staring at his slender hands, the veins dark under his skin. How nice they were, like something out of a painting.
God, when did you start noticing that?
“Thank you for the coffee,” you said, realizing your manners all too late, embarrassed you hadn’t said it earlier. “How did you know what I liked?”
Levi glanced over, slowing down as the light turned red. For a moment, he hesitated; contemplated. Pink tongue flicked over his bottom lip as the car idled. “Hange told me.”
“Oh.”
Levi shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome anyway.”
The light turned green. Silence settled between you once again.
You twitched uncomfortably, wondering how much you should say — or shouldn’t say. There weren’t many times you had been together, just the two of you, without Hange somewhere near.
Levi didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, but then again, he could’ve just been focused on driving. He was gracious enough to take on that responsibility, and you didn’t want to be distracting, even if the near silence was driving you mad. On the other hand, there wasn’t much you wanted to say. Every time you thought of something, a conversation to strike up, it died just as quickly on your lips.
Eventually, Levi seemed to grow tired of the awkwardness between you, how stiff you appeared to be. His eyes darted towards you once again, studying you from the corner of his eye. “If you want people to believe that we’re dating, you’re going to have to stop acting like that.”
You blinked at him, shifting in your seat. “Like what?”
“Like…” Levi shrugged. “Like I’m holding you at gunpoint.”
A laugh bubbled out of you. “What does that mean?”
He gave you a blank expression, certainly calling you an idiot with nothing more than a gaze. “It means you make it blatantly obvious you don’t want to be around me. I know you dislike me, but maybe…” Levi shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “At least try to pretend otherwise.”
Your stomach twisted up as Levi worked his jaw, frustrated, undeniably. For some unknown reason, it made you feel ashamed, even more shy around him than you’d been before. Levi was probably used to women who knew what they wanted. Who could meet his eyes without feeling a sense of shyness creep up their spine. Who could do a lot of things that you couldn’t, and could match his wit and sarcasm without feeling the rush of dread that you’d offended him.
“I don’t dislike you, Levi,” you said, huffing. “I just — don’t think we get along well.”
“That’s news to me,” he said, tapping the gearshift. The music turned down two notches from where he punched the button on the wheel. “Hange says we’re quite compatible.”
“What?” you laughed loudly, ignoring the race of your heart, the furl of anxiety in your chest. “Don’t listen to anything they say — Hange wants to set me up with everyone. You’re hardly the best option.”
Levi, for once, quirked his lips in something near a smile. “Funny. I thought the same thing.”
You scoffed, warm again, crossing your arms over your chest. It was infuriating, really, how you felt around him. Surely you weren’t the only one — Levi radiated confidence and authority, entirely. You’d never seen him interact with many others, but surely they averted their gazes, cheeks warm, stumbling over words. Surely, you couldn’t be the only one who seemed to feel so small under the breadth of his presence.
Another song played before he spoke again, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Familiarity sprung up around you as the landscape began to change, the scenery transforming into one you’d grown up in.
“Why did you date Zeke, anyway?” Levi asked, this time, not bothering to look at you. He stared straight ahead, passing a slower car, the blinker tapping wildly against the dashboard.
You shrugged, scratching your wrist as you looked out the window. How you loathed this topic of conversation. It didn’t matter why you’d dated that man — only that you had, and you regretted it.
You found yourself telling Levi anyway. “He was funny,” you said, quietly, watching the clouds pass above in the sky, dark and gloomy. “He was charming. He liked to read and so did I.”
Levi hummed, but it was dismissive, an acknowledgement of pity and nothing more. Deep down, he was probably laughing, amused at your idiocy. “That’s it?”
“I know it’s stupid… I was stupid,” you said, defensive, curling your hands into fists. “He was my first boyfriend, and I was naive. I wanted to be loved, and Zeke told me he loved me.” You felt the wash of angry tears come back upon you, and you flushed them away, sniffing. “I just didn’t know he’d told two other women the same thing at the same time.”
Levi’s eyes flashed, surprised, as they darted back towards you. “Jesus,” he muttered, fist turning white as it clutched the wheel. “You were right. What a fucking asshole.”
You smiled a bit, shaking your head. For all accounts, Levi could be an asshole in his own way; a comment you decided to keep to yourself.
“Yeah, well, what’s done is done. I don’t give a shit about Zeke Jaeger. He can rot in hell for all I care.” You wiped your face, yawning as the sun began it’s descent in the sky. “I’ve given up on finding love anyway. I just don’t want Zeke to have the satisfaction of knowing it was his fault.” A sigh left you. “Besides, that was probably the point. Our relationship was likely just a way to test some philosophy he’d come up with — nothing matters, least of all love.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s like that.”
Levi didn’t say anything, but you could see him thinking, his eyebrows tied closely together. “But, you know that’s not true, don’t you?” he said, his tone flat, as usual. “You can’t possibly think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”
You smiled. “Of course,” you said, nodding. “I’m just better off without it.”
Levi took a breath, looked over once more, and then let the conversation die.
You hoped it sounded much more convincing to Levi’s ears than your own.
While you were visiting, over the next couple of days, you were staying at Pieck’s apartment. She was two years older, but had been in some of your university courses, and you’d met back in college. You’d found out you were from the same city, and had bonded instantly, having lived such a similar life, in the same place, without even realizing it.
The three of you had grabbed a quick dinner, and when you got back late, Pieck gave you a little tour of her small apartment, showing Levi more than anything, since you’d visited her twice before.
“Here’s the other bedroom,” Pieck said, flipping the switch on. It was a room filled with soft pink decor, the comforter lacy and white. “My roommate is visiting family, so you’re welcome to sleep in here; she doesn’t mind. I’ve cleaned the sheets and everything.”
Levi thanked her, and Pieck smiled sleepily, walking back to her own bedroom with a wave.
You watched as Levi set his bag down, tugged off his thick jacket. He hung it, gently, on the back of the desk chair, unhooking his watch to set it down beside the coat. His wrist looked so bare that way. Nothing to cover it up, exposing the even softer skin where the accessory usually rested.
You looked away. “Is everything okay?” you asked, by way of making your exit, eyes flicking around the room.
Levi glanced up, unfolding a pair of clean clothes from his bag, almost like he’d forgotten you were standing there. “Should something be wrong?” he asked in return, placing a pair of flannel pajama pants next to the gray t-shirt.
For some reason, the image caused your heart to swell, the sight of something so normal within Levi’s grasp. The organ that continuously betrayed you sped up, beating harder.
It was endearing, really, to see such a mundane side of Levi. He always lived in that enigmatic shroud, some sort of ever-present being that you couldn’t quite understand.
You smiled softly. “No. Just wanted to make sure. Goodnight, Levi.”
He said something back, but you were already halfway down the hall, slinging your own bag to Pieck’s room. She was on her side, scrolling through her phone, dark hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. Though, the moment you entered, her attention doubled, eyes crinkling as she grinned.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you said, frowning, as you followed the same routine as Levi, slinging your bag down to pick out a fresh pair of pajamas.
“You didn’t tell me he looked like that,” Pieck muttered, the sound of her voice always tired, no matter how much sleep she got. “Zeke is going to hate him.”
That, at least, had a sense of relief pooling inside you, a laugh spilling out. “I sure hope so.”
She set her phone on the nightstand, laying flat on her back as you continued through your routine. Her introduction to Levi had been brief, but already, she seemed to like him well enough.
Maybe they’d end up together, you thought dimly. Pieck had been single for a while, and you’d always thought she was much more charming than you, much prettier. Perhaps Levi would like her.
The idea put a sour taste in your mouth.
When you returned, face scrubbed, teeth clean, Pieck was nearly asleep, the lamp on her side of the bed the only source of light in the room. She glanced up at you sleepily, batting her eyes before you climbed next to her.
“I can’t believe you,” she said softly, already half-asleep. “How can you stand it?”
“What did I do?”
For a moment, Pieck stared at you like she didn’t know who you were. A yawn left you, even as you tried to hide it.
“Is there something wrong with him? Is that the reason?”
You crinkled your eyebrows together. “Levi?” A million different things ran through your head, but Pieck seemed to want an honest one. “I mean…” Was there, really? Were your speculations and assumptions enough to pass judgement on Levi Ackerman? Or were you just too intimidated by him to admit that he was much nicer than you thought. “Well, you met him, didn’t you?”
She blinked, then laughed, slapping you with the pillow. “You’re so ridiculous. Why aren’t you together then? I mean, actually together?” Pieck hummed, tapping her hand against the pillow, before she tucked it back under her head. “You’ve got hearts in your eyes when you stare at him.”
“What?” you said, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’d thought it was a joke, but Pieck didn’t smile, didn’t even force a laugh alongside you. “I don’t — I’m not.”
“I mean, he clearly likes you quite a bit,” she continued, smiling, “if he came all this way. He listens to you, practically hangs off your every word.” A pause. “Wish someone would look at me like that,” Pieck sighed.
You rolled your eyes. “Levi’s just like that. He’s a good listener.” Although, when it left your lips, the last few words came out slower, more uncertainly. Was he really like that? You could think of plenty of times where he’d blatantly ignored people he didn’t like, left a conversation with a snide comment if he didn’t agree with the subject.
Pieck didn’t seem to believe you, a smile tugging on her lips. “Right. A good listener like you, huh? Listening until you don’t care anymore.” She didn’t give you a chance to respond, your indignant protests enough. “It’s funny. You get so flustered you get when he teases you. I just,” she hesitated, tucking a hand under her cheek. “Well, I just didn’t expect that from you — you weren’t like that with Zeke.”
Again, your cheeks grew hot, your entire body warm. Already, you wanted to kick the covers off, sweat pooling at the backs of your knees. “I’m — No. It’s not. . . Pieck, it’s not.” You buried your face in the pillow, frustrated, hating the grin that curled onto her lips. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that. He’s just — ” You shook your head, words evading you. “I mean, you’ve seen him.”
Pieck laughed, the sound soft, raspy from exhaustion. “I’m only teasing you,” she whispered, her smile almost wistful. “I know what you mean. He’s older, he’s handsome. He probably knows what he wants.” Then her face grew serious, eyebrows drawing together. “But, I also think you’re not letting yourself admit that you’re attracted to him.”
“Pieck,” you huffed, feeling that itch at the back of your skull, under your skin, that you couldn’t quite scratch. “I’m not. Half of the time, I’m not even sure if I enjoy his company.”
She stared at you for a moment longer, unamused, before rolling back onto her side, facing away from you. “Whatever,” she mumbled, a dismissal, like she truly thought every word that left your lips was a denial. “I think you’re just scared after what happened with Zeke. I think you know Levi is exactly what you’ve always wanted, and you don’t think he could possibly like you.”
You started to protest, maneuvering onto your elbows, but Pieck hushed you, flicked the lamp out.
“Night,” she said, signifying the end of the conversation. “Just… think on it.”
An indignant groan escaped you, as Pieck shut her eyes, her breathing evening out not a moment later. You’d always been jealous of how easily she could fall asleep, while you continued to lie awake in bed, left with nothing but your own thoughts.
Which were certainly not, and would never be, plagued by Levi Ackerman.
Unsurprisingly, Levi had been the first one awake, sitting in the kitchen as he scrolled through his phone, a pair of wired-rimmed reading glasses perched at the edge of his nose. He was already dressed, looking unsurprisingly perfect, while your hair was disheveled, pajamas still on, eyes sleepy.
You’d stared at him awkwardly, embarrassed by your appearance, and ignored his brief greeting before you slinked back into Pieck’s room, putting yourself together rapidly. You refused to speak to him until you were ready to leave.
Pieck was spending the rest of the weekend with her father, so you and Levi were left to your own devices for the day. You decided to take him around the town, showing him all the places you used to frequent. It was nostalgic, showcasing your city to a man who’d never been here, wouldn’t know the depth of your memories, those that were tied to a smell, a scene, a sound.
Levi was, to your surprise, quite interested in the places that you’d been around as a child. As usual, he asked many questions, digging into your past without offering anything in return. And, as usual, you let him, all too excited to reminisce about the grade school where you’d met Eren Jaeger, the restaurant you’d always gone to with Sasha.
It warmed you, how caring he could be — something you’d always known, but perhaps, hadn’t really paid attention to until Pieck pointed it out. Levi did seem to take everything you said to heart, store it in some memory bank with your name labeled right on it. He remembered things you hadn’t even known you’d told him, but must have, at some point.
When it neared noon, you took him to a coffee shop that you used to study at, right around the corner from your old school. It was still the same as it had been back then, like nothing had changed at all.
“It’s nice that you have such fond memories,” he said, and there was a small smile on his lips as the two of you entered the cafe, the smell overtaking you almost immediately.
You laughed, shrugging. “It’s better in hindsight.” There’d been times when all you wanted to do was leave. Now, you couldn’t help but miss it.
Levi ordered your coffees, and though you’d protested, trying to push your card in his direction, he paid for the both of them, and waited at the end of the bar while you saved a table. Once again, he’d gotten your coffee order correct, but now that you were able to read the side of his cup, you noticed it wasn’t coffee at all, but actually tea — Earl Grey, steaming, far to hot to drink when he took the lid off.
“Are you not a coffee drinker?” you asked, and for some reason, Levi seemed surprised by the question, his eyes flashing.
“Not really,” he admitted, his hands folded around the paper cup. “Sometimes, if I don’t get much sleep the night before, but—” Levi shrugged. “It makes my hands shake, which does nothing but irritate me.”
You smiled, letting the words sink in. Levi didn’t seem like the type of person to dislike coffee, but he sipped at his tea slowly, huffing as you blinked back at him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “It’s not a crime to dislike something, is it?”
“No,” you said, looking back down at your drink, antsy. His mouth was drawn flat, unamused as always… This time, though, you couldn’t help but admire the curve of his cupid’s bow, the plushness of his lower lip, which was such a contrast to the color of his pale cheeks. “It just surprised me, is all. You never tell me anything about yourself.”
Levi’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Well, you’ve didn’t ask. You never do.”
You opened your mouth, then shut it, thinking through all the conversations you’ve had, all the questions you’ve answered, but never returned. “Usually a conversation is two-sided,” you supplied, leaning forward, accusatory. “I share things about myself, and the other person does so in return.”
Levi’s lips lifted up, nearly a smile. “I’m not really the type of person to spill my heart out unprovoked.” He took a long sip of the tea, glancing out the window at the snowy sidewalk. “If you really cared, you would ask. I won’t bother anyone with useless anecdotes about my life.”
You watched the movement of his hands as he set the cup down, fiddled with the lid beside it. “So that’s all?” you asked, unamused. “All this time, I’ve thought you were some great mystery, and you were just waiting for me to return your questions?”
Levi snorted, though there was a hint of humor in his gaze, flashing from the Christmas lights that were strung around the shop. “Don’t blame me — I’ve always been honest with you,” he supplied, matching your posture. “Maybe you’re just a poor conversationalist, and you’ve made assumptions about me that aren’t true.” Though his tone was clipped, there was still a sense of disappointment in his words.
You let his words sink in, opening your mouth, then shutting it, silencing your protests.
Levi sighed, spinning the conversation towards your evening, rehashing the plan for any questions that might arise. Though you nodded, engaged, your mind was still on his confession, the words gnawing at you.
It was true, you realized with disappointment. Levi had never avoided any questions you’d asked him outright, had always given you a small smile, before carefully answering. You had, really, been avoiding him — perhaps, for no reason at all.
That evening, you arrived at the party just a few minutes after six, when Eren had told you to arrive. Many of your friends were already there, the street lined with cars that you didn’t recognize.
Unsurprisingly, Eren was the one to answer the door, throwing it open and pulling you into a hug before you even had time to react. Your name left his lips in an excited exclamation, and you breathed in the familiarity of him, a deep-rooted nostalgia at the sight of someone you’d known for so long.
“It’s so good to see you,” Eren said, even though it had only been a few months since you’d last gotten together, not years, like it might have felt.
His hair was longer than when it had been when you last saw him, and he’d bulked up a bit, but otherwise, hadn’t changed. That was a comfort in itself, just like the smell of Carla and Grisha Jaeger’s house, the furniture that had been the same since you were an adolescent.
Eren guided you through the door before glancing over your shoulder, noticing Levi for the first time. His eyes widened, green eyes electric as your name left his lips, aghast.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone!” Eren’s posture straightened, and suddenly, he was on his best behavior, trying hard to impress the man that you’d brought with you.
Levi gave him a once-over, glanced over to you, and then stuck out his hand politely. “Levi Ackerman,” he said, shaking it. “You must be Eren—”
But Eren’s attention was already caught by another part of the conversation. He shook his Levi’s quickly, not bothering to answer the greeting, before saying, “Ackerman? Maybe a long-shot, but do you know my girlfriend, Mikasa?”
Surprise flashed in Levi’s irises as he followed Eren inside, nodding. “Actually, she’s my cousin.”
At the same time, across the room, a familiar voice shouted Levi’s name, running over to throw her arms around him. Mikasa’s body rammed against Levi’s shorter frame, and despite his strength, he let out a small puff of air, shocked, as she crashed into him.
“Levi, what are you doing here?” Mikasa said, smiling softly, before releasing him, returning to her normal, calm self. “I had no idea you knew—” A pause, as she flicked her eyes between you, puzzling the pieces together. Her palms covered her mouth, but a sharp squeak emitted from her throat, excitement. “You two are together?”
You hadn’t even gotten the chance to greet her, but Mikasa held you close, her perfume so familiar, hair soft against your cheek.
“What a crazy coincidence — I had no idea… Well, of course, it makes sense. You’re so perfect for each other. I can’t believe I didn’t think of introducing you earlier.” Mikasa rambled on, uncharacteristically, and even Eren seemed surprised as he darted his gaze between you. “How did you meet?” she said.
Levi sighed, perpetually put-out, and followed Mikasa to one of the couches.
You sat with him, but stayed silent for the most part, enjoying watching them interact, smiling at the sight of him so comfortable. Levi spun the story of how you’d “ended up together,” and you offered a few nods here and there, too distracted by the revelation of their relation.
Ackerman was a common enough name that you hadn’t even thought about it, but the more you looked at them together, the more you could see their similarities. Their quiet, but confident demeanors, intellect, and grey eyes. Even the way they spoke was a bit similar. You felt like such an idiot, and when there was a break in the conversation, you said as much.
For once, though, Levi didn’t take it as an opportunity to tease you for your foolishness. “Truthfully,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “I should’ve realized. I knew Mikasa had moved here recently, but I hadn’t been to see her, and I hadn’t met her boyfriend.”
Only later did you remember how nice his hand felt in your own — those cool, pale fingers wrapped around your hand, as if he hadn’t even had to think about it. How you’d accepted them so easily, feeling warm, calm, his fingertips against your knuckles so natural.
Mikasa and Levi seemed happy to catch up, so for the next couple of hours, you made the rounds, visiting with your old friends and the people they were now seeing. Historia and Ymir, the only high school sweethearts left in your group, had even managed to show up, even though they lived the greatest distance away from home. It had been a surprise, and you’d nearly cried when you saw them, leaping away from the table, interrupting your conversation with Jean, to get to them.
Later, you found Levi in the kitchen, a drink in his hands, as he took in the silence away from everyone.
“Everything okay?” you asked, smiling, your entire face bright as you shuffled through the cooler for your own drink. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, tipping the bottle back to his lips before setting it on the counter. “I managed to meet almost everyone anyway. They seemed pretty pleased you have a boyfriend now.” His expression was completely serious, and though his face always was, it sent another round of laughter through you, the beer you’d already drank settling in.
“I hope you gave them a good impression.” You took the spot at the counter beside him, ignoring the softness of his eyes, the way they melted as he stared at you.
Had that always happened, or were you just imagining it…
No, it was definitely the beer.
“Maybe a bad impression would be best,” Levi disagreed, running his fingers across the counter, beside the spot where you rested your hip. “That would make it easier for them to accept our break-up later on.”
“Of course,” you teased, though the mention of the “breakup” that wouldn’t take place at all made disappointment seep into your core. Perhaps, over the course of just a few days, you’d come to enjoy Levi’s company.
Or, maybe, you just decided to accept that you’d always enjoyed it.
“I won’t do that, though,” he concluded. “Not when you look so happy.”
You didn’t get the chance to contemplate that before Mikasa stuck her head through the kitchen door, calling out to get your attention. “Hey.” There was a frown on her face, and she nodded back towards the front door, pointing behind herself. “Zeke’s here. Just so you know.”
You sucked in a breath, nodding, and Mikasa smiled sympathetically before going back to Eren.
For some reason, you were even less prepared to face Zeke than you thought you’d be.
“Okay?” Levi asked quietly. HIs eyebrows tugged up, towards one another, concerned.
You forced a smile, and stepped away from his embrace. “I’m fine,” you said, nodding, but you weren’t able to meet Levi’s eyes, too enraptured by the panic that had begun to claw at you. “Let’s go, better to just rip the band-aid off.”
“I’ll be out in a second.”
Although you didn’t want to walk out alone, you left Levi, heading back to the living room, where at least you’d have the protection of your vast group of friends. You considered grabbing another beer — you needed more than just one to get through the evening, but before you could protest, Sasha had whisked you away, pulling you into some ridiculous, made-up game with Jean and Connie.
For a while, you were able to avoid Zeke, until he’d caught you in pursuit of another drink, your laughter dying the moment your voice was called out in a tone you had never wanted to hear again.
“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
You shifted, spinning around, nails digging into your palm, your jaw clenched. The sight of Zeke standing there sent a wave of nausea over you, doubly so, when you saw the woman standing next to him.
She wasn’t the same one that you remembered with him before, the reason he’d split up with you an entire year ago. No, this one was much taller, her hair smooth and dark as it cascaded down her back. She was wearing a pair of brown, round glasses, and she was beautiful.
“I came to see Eren,” you said, eyes flitting between Zeke and his new girlfriend. She seemed just his type. Pretty, intelligent, a sense of style to match. Anything and everything he’d claimed that you were not. “I was certainly hoping to avoid you.”
“Yet, here we are,” Zeke smiled. He looked the same, exactly the same, as if time has done nothing but turn him into a worse version of himself. His eyes were a little more dull, another wrinkle around the corners, but that was the extent of it all. “This is my girlfriend, Cassandra.”
Cassandra greeted you politely, spoke in a way that was much more smooth than your own voice, her back straight. Instantly, you wondered how anyone like her could fall for someone like Zeke. Yet, you supposed you had done just that, which only proved your stupidity.
Zeke attempted to make small talk, and you smiled, awkwardly, uncomfortably, as your hands began to shake at your sides. It must have been obvious, what you were to Zeke, and you felt horrible for making Cassandra endure the formalities.
“How have you been?” Zeke asked, placing an arm around Cassandra’s shoulder to tuck her into his side. You watched the movement with disgust. “Seems like much hasn’t changed about you, has it?”
It was low, in a way that only you and Zeke could understand — and your face was burning, hot, as you looked around the room for anyone to free you from the conversation. “I’m fine,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself, close to telling Zeke to kindly fuck off for the rest of the evening. “Actually-”
“There you are,” an arm wrapped around your own waist, a hand on your side. Calm, instantly raining down upon you. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”
Levi kissed you on the temple, and for a moment, your brain short-circuited, questions rising up as you glanced over at him, mouth parted in surprise. But Levi wasn’t looking at you, too busy fixing Zeke with a bored expression, eyes flitting over him in judgement.
“You must be Zeke,” he said, and perhaps it was just your imagination, but you felt him squeeze your hip once, as if comforting you. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Zeke cracked a smile. “Good things, I hope.”
“Terrible, actually.”
That only seemed to heighten Zeke’s amusement, and he laughed, loudly. “You must be the new boyfriend.”
Levi glanced down at Zeke’s outstretched palm. “I am,” he said, but made no move to shake Zeke’s hand, ignoring the formalities. Instead, he guided you away from the couple.
For a moment, you blinked, staring out at the space where your friends were congregating, unbeknownst to the interaction in the kitchen. Then, you were relaxing into Levi’s side, the smell of his cologne lingering on his sweater, soothing you.
“I’m sorry, Levi,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I could’ve avoided him. You didn’t have to kiss me.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “That? That was nothing.” He came around to face you, eyes scanning you for any sign of sadness. “Are you okay?”
His consideration shot warmth through every vein of your body, igniting your skin. A smile spread across your lips, and you felt dizzy with it, hating it all at the same time. “I’m okay,” you said, leaning closer, if only to remain within the space of Levi Ackerman. “I just can’t believe him. Showing up like that, and—”
“Don’t give him the fucking time of day.” Levi shook his head, for once, his seriousness not bleeding into sarcasm. “Just enjoy your time with your friends.”
You locked eyes with him, watched as his features turned tender, the cool blue of his irises lightening under his thick lashes. Swallowing, you nodded, looking away, and resumed your place close to Levi, remembering you were supposed to be selling the relationship, not making people question it.
Levi squeezed your shoulder, and you went back to talking with Mikasa and Eren, even though you were distracted by the other pair of eyes that watched you from across the room.
Zeke’s gaze was all that you could feel, even though all of your friends did their best to maintain your attention, remind you that Zeke might have been there, but it didn’t matter — not when there were so many others that cared about you.
It didn’t do much to soothe you, but your tried your best to relax, studying Levi as he spoke, the movement of his sharp jaw, the soft hair that rested over his forehead. He was wearing a soft, burgundy button-up, the sleeves tighter around his wrists, one that complemented his complexion nicely. It nearly matched your own red dress, this one a brighter shade, but still, close enough to seem as if you had planned it.
As the evening went on, the tension drained out of you, and you began to feel more comfortable under Levi’s arm.
Fleetingly, you wondered if this was what Levi was really like in a relationship. Attentive, caring, sweet. Softer towards you only, a secret smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, even if he didn’t let it show.
The thought sent a spiral of longing through you that you ignored, and you sighed, hating that you were constantly on edge. If not from Zeke, than from the way Levi was holding you close, his fingers grazing, caressing your sides.
“By the way, Levi, happy birthday,” Mikasa said, a giggly mess after a few beers. “I almost forgot!”
You made a face at Levi, your expression tied up together. “Birthday?” you asked, frowning.
He waved you off, mumbling a thanks to Mikasa, before she walked off to find another drink, one Eren insisted she didn’t need.
“Levi?” you said again, grabbing his pale wrist, your hand gripping the watch tightly. “It’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow.” Levi cringed, looking over your shoulder, like that was the last thing he wanted to discuss.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
A horrible emotion washed over you, one that was both guilt and melancholy. Levi knew your birthday. Hange had invited him when they’d made you a birthday dinner, and Levi had brought you some flowers, a gift card to your favorite store.
You’d never even bothered to ask when his birthday was. Hadn’t even thought about it.
“I don’t really celebrate,” he shrugged, running his tongue over his cheek.
“I’m sorry — I should’ve —”
“Don’t.” Levi brushed your hair out of your face, shaking his head. The touch soothed you, his fingers so gentle on your temple. “It’s really okay. People are usually too busy with Christmas, and I don’t care much about it anyway.”
You opened your mouth to protest, Levi shook his head again, smiling. “Don’t apologize. Mikasa is the only one who knows, really. Hange knows it’s in December, but I don’t like making a big deal of it.” He sighed, pinching his temple, before looking back at you. "I promise. It doesn't matter."
Still, you couldn't help but feel horrible for not realizing, for dragging him out of town for you, when it was his birthday. “I’m sorry,” you said again, heart clenching.
Levi rolled his eyes, defensive, and moved along, tugging you forward, clearly not wanting to discuss the matter any further.
It ate at you for the rest of the evening, though, nearly distracting you from the fact that your ex-boyfriend was there at all.
You stuck with Levi for the rest of the night, but eventually, needed to use the bathroom, hoping to get back downstairs as soon as possible. Though, your plan was undermined when you opened the door, the other side revealing Zeke, leaning against the wall. His eyes raked over your body, a mix of anger and hunger as you left the bathroom, waving your hands to dry them completely.
“Zeke,” you said, ignoring the hammering in your heart, the way that your panic had spiked the moment you saw him. “What the fuck do you want?”
He laughed, though it was without humor, as he pushed away from the wall, coming towards you. You felt small under his dark gaze, the way he pinned you, so much more cruelly than Levi did. “I can’t tell if you’re actually serious, or if you’re fucking with me,” Zeke said, and it took you a moment to figure out what he was referring to, his eyes hard and narrowed under the thick lenses of his glasses. “Do you really think I believe you? Believe this act that you have going on with your boyfriend?”
You blinked back at him, momentarily at a loss for words, before you forced a laugh from your chest, spitting at him cruelly. “God, Zeke,” you said, shaking your head. “Are you so paranoid that you think I would go to that extent? I stopped caring about you a long time ago, and I’ve moved on.” You tried to push past him, blood rushing through your body; all you could think about was getting back downstairs to Levi.
“Right,” Zeke didn’t let you get far, grabbing your wrist and jerking hard. He forced you back into the wall, your shoulder hitting it with a thump. “I know you’re still not over me. You haven’t been, and we’d both be better off if you could admit that to yourself.”
You glared, prying his grip off, even if he wouldn’t let go. “Leave me alone, Zeke. I’ve never regretted anything as much as I regret you.”
“Please,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, grazing them all over your face. Zeke had never been a good listener, had never seen eye to to eye with you, but he sure pretended to. “You wanted me for years. You loved me.”
“Maybe at some point. Not anymore.” you said through gritted teeth, tugging again, desperate almost. But Zeke didn’t let you free, his grip harder, bruising your skin. “Zeke. Get off of me. I don’t want to talk to you.”
That subtle remark served to do nothing but make him angrier. His features contorted, shoving you backwards so you were pressed against him, his knees brushing your thighs.
A flash of fear went through you, and though you didn’t want to seem like a coward, didn’t want to scream for anyone in the house to help you, you considered it. Zeke towered over you, his breath fanning over your cheeks, thumbs grazing your jaw. “I’m not an idiot,” he said, smiling, that same saccharine grin he’d given you when you were together. “I know that man downstairs isn’t really in love with you.”
“What makes your so sure that you’re right about that?”
That seemed the question he had been dying to answer all evening.
“Oh, it’s easy to spot, really. Just look at you,” Zeke said. “You were nothing without me, and you’re nothing still.” He laughed, loud and cruel, finally stepping away, giving you an escape route. “No one wanted you before, and no one wants you now… Especially not now that I’ve ruined you.” He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets, a dismissal. “And it was so easy to do.”
Tears sprang to your eyes; breaths left you, stuttered exhales that were more than forced. “I hate you.”
“Why?” Zeke asked, curious. “I did you a favor.”
You stared at him, wondering how he could possibly believe himself to be so benevolent, to have saved you from some existence that would have been miserable, without the divine lesson he’d bestowed upon you. Though, it wasn’t long before you realized that he was taunting you, trying his best to make an embarrassment of you, laughing at the way the tears had flooded your eyes so easily.
You rushed down the stairs, holding back your sobs.
As your feet touched the bottom step, you collided with another body, turning the corner, too off-kilter to recognize who it was. “Sorry,” you said, the word coming out soft, weak. “I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Hey.” Levi’s soothing voice washed over you, his hands on your shoulders snapping you out of your distress. At first, he hadn’t realized that you were crying, the tears hidden by the palms that covered your eyes. Gently, Levi pried them away, taking your wrists in his hands, staring at you with a severe expression. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you said, wiping at your face furiously; Levi was unconvinced. “I just… ran into Zeke upstairs, that's all.”
That soured his mood immediately, expression turning cold, a glare overtaking it as he understood. “Fucking asshole,” Levi ground out, teeth clenching together. “What did he say to you?”
“Levi, I said I’m fine.” But your glossy eyes revealed the opposite, the tears leaking from the corners of them only exacerbating the fact that Zeke had said something cruel. “Leave it alone.”
“Did he hurt you?” Navy eyes flicked all over your face, narrowing in concern. “What did he say, love?” It slipped from his lips, without thinking.
You stared back at him, frozen, hesitant. That sort of softness was one you’d never heard from Levi before, had never seen him so furious, yet so worried. It seemed every emotion that he had tucked away was bleeding onto his face, and you leaned into his touch, let him examine your wrists. A red ring was around it from Zeke’s heavy hand.
“I’m okay,” you promised, barely a whisper, taking your wrists back to hide them by your sides. Your lip quivered, and you looked away from Levi's concern as new wave of tears rushed over you, warming your body with despair. “He just doesn’t believe that we’re together. Said that you’d never love someone like me, anyway. That Zeke ruined me.” You shrugged, rubbing your elbows. “The usual.”
Levi clenched his fists, pushing past you. “Fuck.”
You could see the anger spelled out all over his expression, as he began his ascent up the stairs, feet heavy, infuriated.
You clutched at his sleeve. “Levi, stop. Just let it go.”
“I’m not going to let him fucking talk to you like that!” he said, and it was, nearly, the most emotion you’d ever seen out of Levi, his hands practically shaking at his sides. “He can’t just — ”
Levi grit his teeth, then shook you off, taking long strides to get to Zeke, who was leaving the bathroom just as you arrived. Although the smarter part of your brain nudged at you to stop Levi, you couldn’t help but let him play out his anger, wanting to see the look on Zeke’s face when he approached him.
The loud steps against the stairs gathered your ex-boyfriend's attention, and Zeke smiled, looking down at Levi from under his glasses, amused. Though, he didn’t get a chance to say a word before Levi had tugged him by the shirt, forced him against the wall, his gaze hard, almost scary.
Levi’s strength was almost surprising, had you not already known, but Zeke hadn’t. He glanced at Levi, then you, wide-eyed, before recovering smoothly. “Sent your guard dog after me, did you?” he asked you, a dull expression on his face.
“Don’t talk to her.” Levi snapped Zeke’s head back against the wall, forcing the taller man to look at him. “You may think you’re better than you are, but I don’t. You’re a piece of shit, and you never deserved her.” Levi said, eyes pinched, the words calm, even more serious than if he’d been shouting them. "Just stay the hell away."
“Really?” Zeke said, a smile curving onto his lips. “Or what?”
Levi stared for a minute longer, contemplative, and you sucked in a breath, wiping your eyes. You hardly registered the movement of Mikasa, who had rushed up the stairs, wrapping you up in her arms, whispering something to you that you didn't comprehend.
Before either of you could react, Levi had swung, hit Zeke square in the nose, blood trickling down not a moment later. When the blond man tried to react, swinging aimlessly, Levi ducked, and grabbed at Zeke's arm, forcing a knee into his stomach.
Zeke coughed and keeled, muttering a silent, “shit,” and a few other expletives, but not making any moves to swing again.
After he released him, Levi flexed his hand, looking over his shoulder to see you staring at him, Mikasa holding you tightly. He exhaled, sniffed back his anger, and turned.
“Levi—” you started, but he said nothing, pushing past you, his fingers running through his hair as he made his way down the stairs.
Mikasa whispered something else to you, but you wiggled out of her arms, ignoring her, as you followed after Levi. Your tears had dried, but they had, nonetheless, been obvious to everyone, who seemed to know exactly what had been going on when you walked downstairs.
Still, you didn’t meet any of their eyes, frowning, as you pushed open the door. You ignored the fact that it was below freezing outside, and you were in nothing but a jacket, when you found Levi, drawn to him light a magnet.
Flurries of snow rained down, dusting the top of Levi’s head, like little crystals against his dark hair. It was much quieter, away from the chatter, and the music, the night calm and serene, wrapping you in a blanket of comfort.
“Levi?” you said, approaching him quietly, shivering in the brisk air. It had snowed much more than you'd thought in the past few hours, coating the ground, painting a scene so perfect for Christmas Eve. Crystals of ice hung off the edge of the railing, the wind whipping the flurries around in a swirl.
Levi glanced over his shoulder, but said nothing for a moment, his breath coming out in a cold puff of air. Slowly, you came up beside him, watched as his cheeks began to tinge red from the wintery air, his hair brushing across his forehead from the wind.
“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking at the scene in front of him, as he leaned against the icy railing of the balcony. “That was a stupid thing to do. I embarrassed you in front of all of your friends.”
You paused, before a small laugh erupted from you. “Embarrassed?” you smiled, pulling on his forearm to guide his attention back to you. “Levi, no one cares. Truthfully, I’m grateful,” you admitted, retracting your hand, swallowing. “I never would’ve had the courage to do it myself.”
Levi’s eyes flashed, and he glanced over at you, conflicted. Christmas lights shimmered against the snow, dulled only by the darkness that lingered above you.
“Regardless,” he muttered, fixated on the wave of red and green. His lashes were coated in droplets of white, and your voice caught in your throat. He’d never looked so beautiful. “That was immature. I’m not — We’re not even really together.”
You laughed, the sound light and airy. “Well, surely Zeke believes us now. I think you’ve done enough to sell it, haven’t you?”
Levi sighed, dropping his gaze to the railing, his shoulders falling. “I suppose.”
Still, there was tension between you, and your stiff joke did little to diffuse it. You ran your hands up and down your own arms, feeling the goosebumps beneath them, trying to force your attention away from how cold you were.
“Zeke deserved it,” you said, quietly, shaking your head, eyebrows knit together. "You shouldn't feel bad."
“I know,” whispered back, just another exhaled of the wind. Levi didn’t move, didn’t bother to look at you, despite the fact that you were desperate to read any twitch of his expression, to get him to reveal what he was thinking.
Finally, after far too long, he glanced over, raked his eyes across your figure, the frozen posture that your body had turned to, the confusion all over your face. He frowned, dismissive. “We should go inside. You’re freezing.”
“I’m okay.”
“No—”
“Levi,” you said once more, halting him, a frowning permeating your lips. “Why did you do it?”
His face twitched. “Zeke? I told you, he has no right to—”
“No, no. Not that,” you waved him off, crossing your arms to hold them tightly to his chest. “I mean... Well, I suppose that too, but why did you come? Why would you choose to spend your birthday here, with me, of all places? Why do you even pretend to like me at all?”
Levi stared back, slowly blinking, his eyes wide, startled. Then, he started laughing, and for the first time, it was genuine. The sound left him deeply, amused, by your question.
And though, you didn’t understand, had no idea what was so funny about the sentiment, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his humor all the way down to your toes, the sound a battle against the brisk cold that slapped against you.
“You think I don’t like you?” Levi asked, shaking his head, laughs subsiding to a small smile.
“Well,” you said, defensive, sniffing. “Yeah. I’ve always thought that.”
“And? What do you think now?”
You remembered the small smiles you had shared, secrets almost. The way he talked with all of your friends, made an effort to see the beauty in the home you’d grown up in. The way he listened to you, took in your words and remembered them for later.
You shrugged, though it was half-hearted. “I don’t know.”
Silence fell between you, before Levi had cupped your jaw, tracing the softness of your cheeks, the hollow beneath the bone. His eyes held a sadness you didn’t understand, before he had looked past you, to the house next door, the one beyond that, and the one beyond that.
“Hange said you had no idea. I thought I’d been fairly obvious about it, all this time, but maybe I’m oblivious myself.”
“Levi,” you began, frustrated, confused by the way he touched you so gently, the way his sarcasm had subsided, and nothing remained but the gentleness between you. “I don’t—”
“I’m in love with you.”
A pause.
Another.
Slowly, your jaw fell slack. Your eyes grew wide, and you swallowed, as the sentence repeated over and over in your mind, until you could make sense of it.
Levi stepped away, clenching his jaw as he turned you, only his side profile visible. “I have been for quite a while. Hange was the one who pointed it out, and I realized…” He sighed. “Well, I realized they were right. I love you, and I thought that, maybe, if I pretended to be your boyfriend, you’d see I’m not as bad as you think. I didn’t care about spending my birthday at home because I want to be around you — I want to be around you, as often as I can. Perhaps, I'm a complete fool for that, but...” He trailed off, and though his eyes had hardened, not revealing any of the misery he felt, you could see it.
“Levi…”
“I just hope you know that whatever Zeke has planted in your mind, it isn’t true,” Levi spat, clenching his teeth. “You’re not unloveable. God, you were so easy to fall in love with, and I had no idea, that all this time, you’ve been thinking otherwise.” He sniffed, caught between sorrow and fury. “I would never have told you how I felt, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. As long as you know that what he says isn't true.”
You were still whirling from the confession, but Levi had already begun to walk off, trudging off into the house.
“Levi, wait,” you said, grasping at his arm before he could go back inside, get too far away from you. Your head was spinning, and you couldn’t think, couldn’t hear anything besides the words I’m in love with you.
And though he was frustrated, and a culmination of many other things, Levi did as you said, because he loved you; because he loved you, and he listened to you, and you had a hold over him.
Levi stopped, looking back at you, breathing deeply, waiting.
“I—” you began, but the words died there, because Levi looked so pretty with snowflakes on his lashes, and you thought of all the questions you’d never ask, and the fact that all this time, you’d wanted Levi… even if you’d been to scared to admit it.
You kissed him.
Your lips pressed against his, and though he was caught off-guard, eyes wide, he fell into it instantly, arms coming around your back to hold you close. Levi kissed you with a passion that Zeke never had, grabbing at your body like a lifeline, desperate and adoring.
Levi tasted of peppermint, smelled like tea, and felt like a home you hadn’t known since you’d been back here. Something clicked into place, your mind shifting, and your hands fisted in the back of his coat, holding onto him tight.
“You love me?” you asked in a small voice, eyes glossy from a sort of happiness you hadn’t felt in years.
Levi smiled down at you, his expression bright, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He traced your jaw, kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. “I love you.” Another lingering kiss on your lips. “I’d spend all of my life showing you, if you’d let me; getting rid of all those lies Zeke planted in your head." Levi inhaled, rested his head against your own gently.
“I thought you didn’t like to date," you said, closing your eyes.
He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t.”
“Are there other women?”
“What?” Levi shook his head, amused, when you finally pried your eyes back open. You wondered if you’d ever seen him so happy; if you’d ever seen him happy at all. If, maybe, you could keep him happy forever. “No, I’m — Is that what you’ve thought of me all this time?”
Embarrassed, you dipped your head to his shoulder, warming yourself up in his embrace. He took that as yes for an answer.
“I’m not interested in dating, and I really haven’t been with many people before, contrary to what you believe,” he teased, running his fingers along your spine. “Certainly, not since I met you. Does that answer suffice?”
You ran your hands against his chest, kissing his collarbone, his neck, then along his jaw, letting every ounce of your affection seep into it. “I don’t want you to see anyone else,” you admitted, looking at him from under your lashes, remembering exactly what Zeke had done to you, at exactly the same time that he did.
“I won’t, my love,” Levi swore, kissing you once more, sweet and wonderful in the snowy Christmas Eve.
"And, maybe," you began shyly, playing with the buttons of his deep maroon shirt. "We can start fresh tomorrow. I don't know enough about you, Levi Ackerman," you said, frowning, a wrinkle forming between your eye. "But I'd like to."
Levi relaxed, shifting into a version of himself that so few would ever get to see, sweet and caring, with eyes so soft. He smiled. "I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday."
nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.
so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.
still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.
the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.
he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.
because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.
it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.
naturally, no one came back twice.
he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.
though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.
by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.
by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.
on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.
he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.
“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”
“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“
but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.
“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”
a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”
though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.
“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“
“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”
“oh I’m too old for stuffed animals” skill issue. sorry you can’t appreciate little creatures made to hang out with you, I on the other hand am full of joyous whimsy and therefore vastly superior.
at least that’s what levi thinks as his friend says, stupidly, “if neither of us are kissing anyone at midnight, i guess i’ll have to kiss you, levi.”
levi ackerman makes it his special mission to be as far as possible from his friend before the clock strikes 12. when it comes to hange, his ever-scowling lips are for critical judgment and insults only.
“pass,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes when they pout at him.
“but what about all those times you asked me how to—”
“this conversation is over,” he deadpans, emphasizing his point by walking away.
but levi has learned long ago that there’s no walking away from hange. they drags themselves up and away from the table to follow, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulders. “why not though? are you planning on kissing someone else tonight?”
their tone is teasing, but their eyes give them away. hange’s fishing for a specific answer.
“no,” he answers much too quickly to be nonchalant.
his friend just smirks. “she’s here, you know. erwin said she just got back a few weeks ago.”
“i had no idea.” (he already knew.)
“she’s still single.”
“i don’t care.” (he might care.)
they hum thoughtfully. “so you wouldn’t mind if i kissed her instead?”
levi doesn’t answer this time, shoving his friend’s arm off his shoulder and trying to disappear into the party.
erwin’s parties were always too big, in his opinion. he packed his penthouse apartment to the brim, and how anyone had this many friends, he had no idea. at least the sheer amount of people would allow him the opportunity to slip away, maybe hide in some quiet corner wearing a scowl that could repel the bravest souls.
(and if he hides, there’s no way he’ll run into you, right?)
[twenty-two minutes to midnight]
by merely thinking of you, levi’s mother would probably say he was tempting fate. his mother was almost always right, loathe as he was to admit it.
because, yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes later when he spots you across the room, sipping champagne while chatting with miche and hange.
you have your back to him, but he knows that it’s you. it’s instinct— the way his eyes linger down the familiar shape of your body. he traces each curve draped in blue silk the way his hands once did.
levi could go over there. he could tell you that you look gorgeous in that dress. he could tell you that he misses you, needs you, loves you…
but then miche would make that face, and hange would fail to bite back that smile, and levi would have to block both their numbers and all their social media accounts again.
he could tell you these things, but he’s never figured out how. levi likes to handle things on his own and refuses to show weakness to anyone.
so he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction instead, towards the kitchen to look for a drink. he wasn’t really one for alcohol, but he needed it tonight.
he’s frowning over the various bottles when erwin appears, a knowing grin on his face. he has a habit of materializing out of nowhere when levi’s at his weakest.
“looking for anything in particular?” the blond asks.
“just a beer,” he mutters.
erwin hums, contemplative, then lists various drinks. “let’s see. there are have craft brews, ipa, winter wheat—”
levi makes a face. when the fuck did beer get complicated? “what the hell is a winter wheat?”
“it’s beer, levi,” he chuckles, shooting him an amused look. it lasts a second too long, and is followed by, “you saw her, didn’t you?”
“what does that have to do—”
“are we talking about levi’s love life?”
“no, we’re not,” levi snaps, shooting miche a warning glare that his dumb friend chooses to ignore.
“come on, we’ve known about your crush for years now,” the man continues, judging him slightly. “remember when you got drunk on hange’s birthday?”
“ah, yes,” erwin sighs, as if he’s recalling a particularly fond memory. “when you announced that you sorely missed—”
“oh my god. i hate my life,” levi mutters, turning on his heel and making his escape as the two grown men giggle like schoolgirls. he grabs the most expensive looking bottle of liquor, yanking the cork out and tossing it onto the counter.
“maybe you’ll hate your life less if you get laid!”
levi flips them both off before slipping out onto the balcony, content to hide out here until the countdown is over. the door slowly slides shut behind him, muffling the mellow music and cheery laughter inside.
he sets the bottle he’d swiped on the parapet, looking out at the twinkling city lights. these parties were much too suffocating, full of bright-eyed people that seemed keen on conversing with him no matter how reproachful his gaze.
he doesn’t turn around when he hears the door slide open and shut behind. he already knows who’s followed him outside.
winter here provides a crisp cool, but levi doesn’t mind, slipping his suit jacket off and tossing it onto a patio chair. you don’t seem to mind it either, bare back pressed against the parapet as you smile over at him.
“you didn’t say hello,” you murmur, leaning towards him. levi steals a glance at you, eyes wandering down the column of your neck to the tempting plunge of your neckline.
“hey,” he grunts, holding out the bottle he’d swiped in offering.
you accept it, taking a small sip. your face immediately pinches in displeasure, causing levi’s to crack with a small grin.
“how’s your night?” you ask out of nowhere.
“bored,” he answers stiffly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the patio. “though i don’t suppose you actually care.”
you chuckle at that, your amusement barely audible over the breeze. you both know that’s not true. “just making conversation.”
“you’re pretty shit at it.”
the air between you both is suddenly hot, but levi shivers at the brush of your fingers against the corded muscle of his arm. your touch burns like fire across his skin as you murmur,
“shut me up then.”
his gaze falls to your mouth, pulse thundering in his ears as he leans forward and closes the distance. levi moves on instinct, locking a hand around your hip and pulling you closer. he swallows your surprised gasp with a kiss, but you don’t pull away.
he kisses you softly at first, each touch and movement of his mouth hesitant as he tests your boundaries. your hands move up his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt collar and somehow pulling him closer, kissing him back with a fervor that makes him dizzy. your insistent mouth parts his lips, sending tremors through his nerves and awakening sensations he wants to feel again.
it’s a good kiss. not bad for the first one you share in front of your friends (who are all gathered at the window) announcing your relationship as the clock the strikes midnight.
pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader
content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)
you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.”
you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer.
you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”
“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”
“‘gentleman,’” you snort.
kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”
“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”
he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”
“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office.
when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”
you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”
kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”
“yeah?”
“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”
“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”
you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”
“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”
“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”
“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”
“you know i always have time for you.”
kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together.
“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”
you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”
he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”
you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you.
it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.
nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask.
he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word.
he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”
he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.
what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks.
thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”
he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”
“what are you talking about?”
he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”
you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”
“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”
“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”
“really?”
you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”
“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”
“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”
kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”
“good to know you’re a protective husband.”
he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”
“don’t i know it.”
as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”
your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”
a year and a half later.
nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”
“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say.
“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”
you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”
nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”
“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”
you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”
he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”
nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”
“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”
thinking about how megumi fushiguro was never an autumn person.
for as long as he could remember, he’s been rather impartial towards the fall chills and the turning of the leaves- it never really affected him in any way.
he could care less about the changing of seasons and the hearty crunch of leaves under his boots. it's just another year, and just another preamble to the coming winter snows.
or, at least, he thought he didn’t care. not until he met you.
megumi remembers the day you first showed up to class. he can still recall your voice like the wind and how your hands looked soft like still-growing leaves.
he’s not sure what to think of you at first, with your eyes like fire and your words like smoke. he doesn’t think he likes how you look at him, though. he can’t tell why.
you click well with everyone else, and megumi stands on the sidelines and observes. he doesn’t speak much to you. it’s not because you’ve done anything, no, but because the sensation you leave him with is borderline uncomfortable.
he feels like static electricity, a live wire. he feels like he’s buzzing and alive, full of adrenaline and on the brink of death. he thinks he hates it. he isn’t sure, though.
megumi doesn’t realize the sensation he feels for you is love until autumn begins.
he is trailing behind nobara and you, yuji chatting his ear off about something he doesn’t care about besides him.
he can’t really help but watch you, talking to your friend animatedly and gesturing to the trees.
you look so alive, the oranges and yellows highlighting your skin and the warm yellow glow of the early-autumn sun kissed your cheeks and megumi thinks you looked a bit like an angel.
the walk back to the dorms continued as normal. you smiled, and nobara gossiped, yuji babbled, and megumi sighed because he knew he was a lost cause.
at the tail end of autumn, megumi finally tells you how he feels.
it was an accident, if he’s being honest. the 1st-years were having a movie night. it was late, later than megumi usually stayed up for. nobara and yuji were relentless, despite the late hour- a breathe of fresh air was in order.
megumi walked outside onto the olden wood porch. the moon was out, its faint glow painting the campus silver. barren trees and brown and red leaves decorated the floor, complimenting the architecture. he didn’t expect to see you there, though. he doesn’t remember seeing you leave.
your back is to him as you sit on the stairs, knees to your chest and head resting atop them. you are still and silver in the autumn night and megumi thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
you already know he’s here without having to look back. you call his name, gesturing for him to sit next to you. he complies wordlessly. what is there to be said?
you watched the leaves blow in the wind and megumi watched you. he couldn’t tell you how long it had been, sitting in silence, until you turned to him. you could recognize the chemistry and the tension, he knows that.
“this is my favorite season, y’know?” megumi hummed. you turned away. he followed your gaze and watched the tumbling reds and yellows.
after a few more seconds of silence, your head falls to rest on megumi’s shoulder. had it been anyone else, he would have left. but it was you, so he stayed- he’d always stay for you.
“i don’t know you as well as the others.” your voice was soft. “but i want to. i promise i do.”
his mouth opened. then closed. his gaze flickered between you and the open air. “i think i want to know you too,” he manages. his throat is tight and it grows tighter as you tuck your face into his neck and he feels you smile.
your voice makes his muscles loosen, and he lets himself relax into you for the first time. “so let’s start with this,” you say with a slight laugh, “what is your favorite season, megumi?”
he hums. a beat of silence passes and he looks at you. he smiles. “i think it’s fall.”
megumi fushiguro was never an autumn person. at least, not until he met you.
contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL
it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.
“you’re home,” you brighten.
“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”
satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”
it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.
“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”
“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.
there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.
maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.
“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.
instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.
your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.
“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”
he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.
“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”
“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.
finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.
“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”
“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”
“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”
“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.
he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.
“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.
it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.
“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.
he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”
“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”
“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”
“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.
you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.
“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”
“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”
“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”
“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”
“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”
you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.
you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.
satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.
and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”
“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”
“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”
“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”
“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.
you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”
“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”
don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus
your voice is low—matching the pitch of the dull tune emanating from the overhead speakers. you peer down at the baby leaned against your chest, tighten your grip on pure parental instinct, and continue glancing down the aisles.
of course, the dad in question is none other than your husband satoru, who’s wandered off on his own as if he were your second, more disobedient child.
attention shoppers, our store will be closing in five minutes. please proceed to the checkout.
he’s made an awful habit out of this as of late—turning you into those dreaded people who are still lingering in the store several minutes after it’s closed for the night. to say you hate it would be a serious understatement.
“we should leave him,” you mumble, offering your daughter her little pacifier and smoothing a hand across her back—hoping she’ll settle down for an overdue slumber. “or at least put a leash on him.”
“is that a new kink of yours or something?”
you can hear the boyish smile on satoru’s lips, the smugness woven in between each of his syllables—just how long has he been behind you?
spinning on your heels, you’re met with the exact expression you were expecting. he’s leaned in—head tilted slightly to the side as he peers down at the two of you over his sunglasses.
it’s eerily quiet due to the lack of other customers, of other humans altogether, and so the change in pitch, the deepness of satoru’s voice in contrast to yours—it’s enough to make your daughter perk up. thankfully, she’s too young to understand.
“i found them,” you say, blatantly disregarding his comment as you nod towards the pack of baby wipes in your hand—the one item you came in for. “let’s go.”
“oh don’t change the subject,” he purrs. “i’m just curious.”
“yes, satoru. you caught me,” you smile and agree—though your tone is laced with enough sarcasm to give him whiplash. “now let’s go, or i won’t let you stick your head out the window on the ride home.”
he can’t stifle the chuckle that rumbles from his chest, though it might be partially caused by the pair of little chubby hands that reach out for him.
a fond smile settles onto his lips as he takes your daughter into his arms, and the two—mirroring each other’s overly excited expressions, cause your heart to trip over it’s own beat.
there’s a brief moment of silence, and then—
“let’s get her an outfit,” he blurts out.
“satoru!”
“we have three minutes,” he says casually, with an underlying tone of it’s no big deal. he waves a hand in the air as if to dismiss your worries, and saunters off towards the baby clothing with your daughter in tow.
your footsteps seem to echo off the walls of the building as you follow behind them, and the spit bubbles that your little girl is blowing all over satoru’s shoulder seem louder than humanly possible, for a baby at least.
“yeah, three minutes until i kick your ass,” you mutter, noting the eyes of a passing employee, and how they don’t spare either of you a glance.
“you still flirting with me back there?” he calls out, turning around to flash a mischievous grin before raising his hand and wiggling his fingers—not so subtly flaunting his shiny silver wedding band. “i’ll have you know, i’m a married man.”
a few little fingers wrap around his much larger ones, and he soon becomes a human teether as your baby leans her head against his chest.
“oh? i’m sure she’s lovely,” you respond—features softening as your daughter shifts her attention to you—lifting her arms as happy baby sounds spill past her lips.
satoru steps closer and leans down, placing his free, slightly wet hand on the side of your face—and even though he’s been this close a thousand times, given you an entire child—he still has your heart pounding like a lovesick teenager.
“sure is,” he hums, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips to yours. he keeps it short and sweet, but still passionate—gently tugging your lower lip between his teeth as he pulls back. you feel a little bashful as you stare up at him, hit with that same wave of schoolgirl infatuation. though, that feeling quickly subsides when he pinches your baby’s cheeks and says, “even has the assist on this sweet girl.”
your eyes widen. “assist?”
attention shoppers, our store is now closed for the night. please proceed to the checkout.
the corners of his lips twitch, but he somehow manages to keep his wicked grin under control, and swiftly diverts the attention elsewhere.
“we’ll come back, ok?” he coos at your daughter, who’s a babbling mess as she gnaws on her little fist, clearly in great distress over her lack of new clothing. “soon.”
the uncomfortable silence from earlier is replaced with a peaceful hush as you begin walking to the front of the store, and satoru wonders if maybe, you noticed.
because there’s no sideways glances or hushed whispers, no wide eyes or loud gasps—is that the gojo kid? does she have the technique? she’s supposed to be as strong as him, right?
she’s just a baby.
and while it’s true that the employees at your local store aren’t your biggest fans, that’s what he likes about coming here—it’s the one place, other than home, where being a gojo isn’t a spectacle.
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