#day2

It always happens without you even realizing it.

Your hand slowly lifts as your focus sinks into the television, your mind half on the show and half elsewhere completely, until your thumb presses against your teeth. You aren’t even aware of the motion at first.

Levi sits beside you, his body loose but watchful, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch behind your shoulders. His fingers occasionally brush your hair in absentminded affection. He’s been so patient with your bad habits before by swatting your hand away or holding it in his until you forget, but it always creeps back. 

He suddenly shifts, his eyes narrowing at your gnawing fingers.Without a word, he rises from the couch and disappears into the kitchen for a second. He returns with a small plastic spray bottle filled with water clutched in his hand, the kind used for misting houseplants. 

Before you can even register it, he aims it at you and gives a quick spritz right across your face. 

“What the hell?!” you yelp, jerking back in shock. Water drips down your face as you stare at him with wide eyes, a laugh rising despite your displeasure. Levi stands there, completely calm, holding the bottle innocently.

“Bad,” Levi states flatly, his expression as impassive as ever, though the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth betrays the spark of mischief he's hiding.

“What was that for?!” you demand, wiping your face with your shirt, still processing the audacity of what just happened.

“To stop you from biting your nails.”

"Your solution is to spray me like a cat?"

Levi's gaze flicks to your now-still hands, then back to the screen, the faintest hint of satisfaction pacifying his features. "It worked, didn't it?"

You scoff, crossing your arms and sinking back into the couch. “You’re unbelievable.”

He just sits back down beside you like nothing happened, attention returning to the TV, the spray bottle resting casually in his hand.

There’s no way he’s serious.

.

He is, unfortunately, very serious.

Because the next time your hand drifts up, he sprays you again, directly in the face like last time.

“Levi!”

“Bad.”

“You cannot keep doing that!”

“You could stop.”

You glare at him. He doesn’t look away.

.

By the third day, it becomes a war of wills.

You try to be sneakier about it, twisting your hand inward, turning slightly away, like that will somehow hide the motion from a man who notices everything. It does not.

You gasp, scandalized, as he grabs the bottle and sprays you again on the face. “I didn’t even—!”

“You were about to.”

“I was thinking about it!”

“Same difference.”

You stare at him, betrayed. “You’re profiling me now.”

He doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

.

By the fifth day, you start catching yourself before he does. Your hand lifts halfway, pauses midair and you glance sideways. 

Levi is already looking at you, bottle in hand, finger poised on the trigger. Waiting. You slowly lower your hand. 

He lowers the bottle. Neither of you say anything.

This is psychological warfare, you think with a groan.

.

By the end of the week, you notice a change.

You’re snuggled up in your usual spot on the couch, and your hand lifts again out of habit, but this time, you halt. Not because you’re about to get sprayed. Not even because Levi’s watching.

But because you don’t want to.

You blink, a little surprised at yourself, fingers hovering before you slowly lower your hand back to your lap. Levi notices. He pauses halfway to reaching for the spray bottle on the coffee table and quirks a small smile.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, albeit without any anger, a small smile getting the better of you despite your efforts to contain it. “Your methods are insane.”

“Clearly they’re effective.”

You look at him, watching the way he relaxes back into the couch, like this was never a big deal to begin with, like he didn’t just wage a week-long campaign against your bad habit with a goddamn spray bottle.

“You’re still a jerk for it,” you add.

Cuddled up against him that night, fingers interlaced with his on the couch, you murmur a teasing thank you, and he just pulls you closer, his silent victory tasting sweeter than any cure.

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divider by: sweetmelodygraphics

Dei

My idea for this piece is consumption as a form of devotion, to be devoured and become one with his beloved. Thus, the blood on his body and how his neck is positioned between something resembling jaws. Anyhow, I think Ath did great at combining both drawings into a coherent story. And ofc I have to include eldritch!Bam in one of kbw entries. Design inspired by TSHD ✌ Happy ToG's 16th Anniversary 🎉

Soli