hambiichu

[hambiichu]

OMG HELLLOOOO??!!!!!😭😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 SWEET HEART SKDJEJEJJEJRJ OMGGGGGGF

a small teaser! Still working on it little by little everyday.

@hambiichu @aphroditaeon @leviscupofteahee @jlle-marie

[hambiichu]

I'm writing that gangbang with y/n and multiple versions of levi from the discussion 🥰🥰🥰 so just wait a few more days for me <3

OMG YESSSSSSSSSSSSS PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIMEEEEE AARGGHHH🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅 PLEASE PLEASEEEEEEE

Will there be after care? I felt all the levis would take turns taking care of reader and even some of them fight over who will wash her feet 😂😂

Cant wait through!!!! Please take your time🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶💃💃💃💃

[hambiichu]

Just imagine Levi in this state when he's so close saving you, after you got abducted by Kenny's squad

[hambiichu]

@beautiful-is-boring

OMGGGGGGGGGF YESSSSSSS AND AND ANDDDD MARLEY! LEVI IS THE ONE WHOS RECORDING ALL AND HELL BE THE LAST TO FUCK THE READER SJSDBEJEJ💪💪💪💪

Foursome with Underground Levi, Captain Levi and Post-war Levi 👹

[hambiichu]

Guns and Papers

Chapter 1

Papers and Shooting Chapter sumarry:

"No," you insist, shaking your head. "How did you find my address? I didn’t even give it to you!"

"Oh, I just looked at your files this morning," Tintin chuckled, "I was sorting through our reports when I stumbled upon your files. I must apologize for going through them without your permission. I wanted to ensure my partner's safety and thought it would be helpful to keep you informed about the latest developments at the station."

You felt a surge of mixed emotions. On one hand, you wanted to argue and assert that it wasn’t right to snoop around without consent; on the other, you had to admit that he had a point.

Divider by @/cursed-carmine

Ao3

[hambiichu]

Yall planning on to write like more words and long paragraphs for my Guns and Papers cuz I do feeding contents 🫶

[hambiichu]

Guns and Papers

Chapter 2

Sumarry: A detective and a journalist make for an unusual pair; Tintin collaborated with you initially on cases and inquiries, but danger lurked ahead, which was unforeseen.

New partner chapter sumarry:

"You have a new partner," Chief Jeffrey announced, gesturing towards the man standing beside you with an air of reluctant pride. "This is Tintin. I assure you, he’s different."

You glanced at Tintin, taking in his ginger hair that seemed to catch the light, framing a baby face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt paired with a blue sweater that hugged his arms, and his long socks were pulled up to his calves, lending him an almost boyish charm.

Ao3

Divider by @saradika

Ps: This is my first fanfic for the tintin fandom.

[hambiichu]

Kindness

Sumarry: People take kindness as an advantage, and Tintin doesn't like it.

Will this scene on the fic? Yes. Will there be more? Yes, as long as you leave comments and support me, I will give more blorbo of Tintin. If none, no blorbo.

Ao3

Divider by @plutism

Tags: Female! Reader, detective! Reader, Famous detective reader, Tintin, Tintin all media types,

"I kindly ask you to back off, sir," Tintin states firmly, positioning himself protectively between you and the man who has been persistently pestering and distracting you during your case with Tintin.

Your eyebrows arch in surprise. For the first time, your new partner is not just a journalist; he’s upfront and assertive. This is a refreshing change from your previous colleagues, who either sought fame by sharing your title as a renowned detective or tried to exploit your knowledge for their own gain.

But Tintin? He’s different. Though you haven’t known him long, you find yourself reflecting on his baby-faced charm and infectious smile. It’s easy to understand why so many women are captivated by him. You’ve noticed how your female coworkers blush and fawn over him; it’s almost comical.

Still, you can’t fault him. After all, he’s a respected journalist with a reputation that precedes him.

"I ain't distracting her!" the man growls, shoving Tintin to the side as he advances toward you. You instinctively take a step back, your heart racing. He’s a large man built like a bouncer, muscles rippling underneath his shirt, and you know you’re no match for his physicality. People have varying strengths, and his is intimidating.

"I was just trying to help her solve the case, right? Ain't that right, pretty princess?" he asks, reaching out to touch your cheek unexpectedly. Disgust curls in your stomach as his hand brushes your skin, and you recoil at his invasive gesture.

In a flash, Tintin grabs the man's wrist, twisting it firmly and expressing a level of determination that surprises even you. "Like I said, sir, back off. Now, be a gentleman and leave us alone."

"You don’t tell me what to do, pipsqueak!" the man growls, his anger radiating off him like heat from a fire. He clenches his fist, preparing to throw a punch at Tintin, who skillfully dodges the blow. With remarkable agility, Tintin counters, delivering an uppercut that connects with the man’s chin, causing him to stagger backward. Seizing the moment, Tintin unleashes a powerful kick to the man's stomach, knocking him to his knees.

"I suggest you take my warning seriously," Tintin murmurs, twisting the man’s arm painfully, eliciting a roar of discomfort. His eyes glimmer with a cold intensity, revealing a side that’s both fierce and protective. "I’m not someone you want to mess with, especially when you treat my partner with disrespect and touch her inappropriately without her consent. I may be a man, but I know how to treat people with respect."

You stand there, wide-eyed, marveling at Tintin’s unexpected prowess. It's astonishing to witness how he navigates the tense situation with an air of confidence and skill that seems well beyond his years.

A flicker of admiration ignites within you; perhaps you have underestimated him all along.

As Tintin turns to face you, the intensity that had radiated from him moments before melts away, replaced by a softer, more compassionate demeanor. He offers you a reassuring smile, the warmth in his eyes inviting you to feel at ease. "Are you okay? Do you still feel uncomfortable?" he gently inquires, his voice steady and calming.

Holy fucking shit?!

Words catch in your throat as you process the whirlwind of emotions and events that just transpired. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but you manage to steady yourself enough to respond. Your voice comes out slightly husky, tinged with lingering uncertainty, "Yes, I’m fine."

As you nod in an attempt to reassure both him and yourself, you notice the relief wash over his features. His kindness shines through, revealing a heart that is both strong and compassionate.

It's astounding to think that a person like him could fall victim to exploitation; still, here he is, with a man gripping his arm and disregarding his frantic cries for compassion. At that instant, it becomes clear that Tintin is genuinely unique. The determination he displays when faced with challenges astonishes you, sparking a feeling of admiration and appreciation for the complexities of his character that you are just starting to discover.

[hambiichu]

Motorcycle

Sumarry: Tintin with a Motorcyle wearing all black

Lmaooo, an excuse to write Tintin with a motorcycle because dear god, I'd been thinking about it all day, and it's always a CRIME There's not enough content. Sigh, fine, I'll do it myself.

Ao3

Divider by @plutism

Tags: Gender neutral reader, Tintin, Tintin x reader, Tintin all black, tehee

"People thought you were some tough guy, Tintin," you said, scratching the back of your nape in embarrassment. At your workplace, everyone seemed to believe that your journalist boyfriend was a rugged figure, with his sleek motorcycle and signature all-black outfit, topped off with a helmet featuring adorable, fluffy ears that reminded you of Snowy. He picked you up every day after work, and the contrast between his tough exterior and your gentle interactions often sparked gossip among your colleagues.

With a chuckle, Tintin lifted his helmet and ruffled his ginger hair, revealing a warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. "They really thought so? That's unexpected. I'm just a simple, kind person at heart."

He handed you your own helmet with a playful grin before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. "Well, at least people don’t pry too much into your personal life because they think I'm a tough guy," he said lightly, "but the truth is, I've got trouble hot on my tail wherever I go, and you might find yourself in the midst of it, too."

His words resonated with a sense of reality — there was always an adventure looming, and trouble often tagged along with him. You couldn't deny that the thought of facing that danger made your heart race, but the thrill of adventure under his wing was undeniably enticing.

"You’re right," you replied with a shrug as you settled your helmet into place, securing the straps. "But honestly, where’s the fun in playing it safe? We've had countless adventures together, and with you, there's always that exhilarating thrill."

As Tintin revved the engine of his motorcycle, the sound vibrating through the air around you, he turned to you with a conspiratorial grin. "Yes, indeed! With you by my side, every adventure becomes even more remarkable."

[hambiichu]

BROOO HES SO HOT WTF

if not friend, why friend-shaped

[hambiichu]

WHERES HER KELOID (BTW I LOVE THE ART)

Reiner x Y/N ♥️

The ones that knows, knows…..

[hambiichu]

Drunk and Feels

Sumarry: You are a famous detective and the only thing comfort to do is to drink.

Tagging: @illegally-blind-and-deaf and @kaitou-red because I thought the Tintin fandom is dead and it made me pulled away from writing x reader content aksjd;;; enjoy!!! (PS: This is my first Tintin x reader)

Btw this one shot is either be I'll put it in a fic before the event of the Unicorn or whatnot

Ao3

Tags: Female! Reader, TinTin, drunk, feels, detective! Reader, 2011 film,

Divider by @/ i-mmaculatus

The bar was dimly lit, enveloped in a comforting silence that felt just right for solitary drinking. Soft music floated through the air, its soothing melody a background to the thoughts swirling in your mind. You cradled your third glass of whiskey, savoring the warmth as it slid down your throat. Your head hung low, a hazy dizziness creeping in as the alcohol washed over you, momentarily drowning out the weight of your reality.

As a distinguished detective, your name was known far and wide. You stood head and shoulders above your peers, granted the privilege of tackling the most challenging cases—those that seemed impossible to crack.

There was an undeniable thrill in your work, an exhilarating rush that came from saving lives and unveiling the truth. Yet, beneath the accolades and recognition, a profound loneliness lingered. No one truly knew the real you; the celebrated detective was just a mask you wore.

You were a lone wolf at heart, sharing camaraderie with your colleagues but often finding solace in solitude. Life was undeniably stressful, a tempest you had grown accustomed to weathering. Your only escape was the numbing embrace of alcohol, a veil to conceal the deep-seated sadness and anxiety that dwelt within.

In quieter moments, you wished someone would truly understand you—the vulnerability behind the façade of the famous detective. Instead of seeing you as the title that defined your professional life, you longed for someone to recognize the person beneath.

And now, someone was trying.

“There you are!” The voice cut through your reverie, jolting you back to the present. Standing before you was Tintin, clad in a crisp white shirt and a blue sweater, the outline of a gray overcoat adding a touch of sophistication. His ginger hair caught glimmers of light, radiating a warmth that seemed to illuminate the dim bar. With a mix of concern and reproach, he called out your name. “Drinking again? I’ve told you countless times to quit it!”

“Tintin?” you whispered, raising your head with difficulty to meet his gaze, slightly squinting against the gentle lighting. "I am not Drin—"

A familiar spark of defiance threatened to emerge, but you quickly set it aside, aware of how pointless arguing would be at this time. There had been countless occasions when you and Tintin had clashed, only to end up apologizing for miscommunications in the end. “How did you find me? Did Snowy track my scent?”

“A matter of fact, yes,” he replied, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and affection. With determination, he hooked your arm over his shoulder, gently urging you away from your table. “Let’s head back to my apartment. You’re wasting away as if there’s no tomorrow. I’ve told you time and again that I’m here for you. Drinking doesn’t justify your solitude; people like me actually care.”

An instinctive desire to object rose up in you, although a part of you understood that he was correct. At your core, you acknowledged his compassion and true concern, but the reflex to dismiss his care was automatic—it felt simpler that way.

Since the day he began working with you, your life had taken a different direction, one that seemed to hold promise. Tintin offered you wisdom and encouragement, reminding you that you didn’t have to face everything alone. He was someone who genuinely attempted to understand the complexities of your world.

As time passed, your feelings for him deepened, evolving into something far more intricate than mere partnership. You felt an unexpected connection, reminiscent of those intense college days when the sting of heartbreak was all too familiar.

The reality began to gnaw at you: you loved him, yet the fear that he might never reciprocate that love was paralyzing. You often watched him interact with Martine Vandezande, noticing the unmistakable spark of genuine interest in his eyes. Each glance he shared with her pricked at your heart—a painful reminder of the emotional risks you hesitated to confront.

"I don’t want to go back yet," you whispered, your gaze fixed on your glass of whiskey, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coaxing you into a haze. "I’ve ordered another drink."

Tintin sighed, caught between his instinct to chastise you and a deeper concern for your well-being. He could feel anger bubbling within him, frustration at your choices, but instead of scolding, he reined in those feelings. This wasn’t the moment for anger; he sensed it acutely.

"Then I’ll pay for that whiskey, and we’ll leave, alright?" Tintin replied, his voice steady as he met your eyes, trying to convey support rather than reproach. With a gentle but firm hand, he led you away from the bar, paying your tab with a few bills that felt heavier than usual as he pocketed the change.

The familiar routine played out; he often scolded you for staying too long at the bar, but tonight, it felt futile. As he pulled you toward his car, Snowy bounded ahead, his little tail wagging enthusiastically, barking in delight at both of you.

Tintin opened the car door and guided you into the back seat, his body brushing against yours, an electric moment that sent ripples of warmth through him. As he settled beside you, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyelids grew heavy, the fatigue of the night wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Your shirt had lifted slightly, exposing a glimpse of your stomach, causing a flush to creep onto Tintin’s cheeks as he swallowed hard.

The urge to kiss you was overwhelming, but he respected your space, unwilling to act without your consent. He had been falling for you more deeply with each day spent together, working hard to earn your trust and affection despite your initial reluctance. His heart had captured your essence from the very first moment, fascinated by everything about you—your smile, the way your laughter danced through the air, the unique charm that made you, you.

He had sought Martine Vandezande's advice, asking her relentlessly about how to navigate the complicated waters of confession and romance, eager for the day he could share his feelings with you.

As he tightened his fist, pressing it against his mouth, a soft cough escaped him, a weak effort to release the intense feelings swirling inside him. He carefully straightened your shirt, making sure you were at ease before heading to the front seat, his heartbeat quickening with a blend of hope and doubt.

As he turned the key in the ignition, Snowy glanced up at him, tilting his head with a playful expression, as if urging him to confess his feelings.

"It’s not what you think, we’re just partners, nothing more, Snowy." Tintin said, his brow furrowing in frustration.

Yet even Snowy, with his canine instinct, barked back, clearly unconvinced by his owner's reassurances. The truth was already glaringly evident, even if Tintin couldn’t bring himself to accept it just yet.

[hambiichu]

Been thinking on writing a schedule every week which fandom I am in so I dont feel burn out and focus on one fandom at a time

So sorry for my Levi readers here, life is busy and caused me to burn out writing our captain

[hambiichu]

Is the Tintin fandom alive?? I wanna write x reader yall

[hambiichu]

Hello after doing the requests, I'll be taking a break from writing Levi for a while. I'm burning out and I want to write for the other fandoms I am in.

[hambiichu]

Dbh au

Sumarry: A deviant android is on the loose, you and Levi were onto it.

Hello ahaha, I'm back sorry for a short hiatus. College been busy and now I am back, I can do the requests! (Just a short while, is not my vacation until after June or around July. But still, from time to time I'll post again)

Ao3

Tags: Female Reader, Detroit become human au, Android! Levi, Reader is the mc in this au, after android war, deviant, love, relationship, android and human relationship

Divider by @uzmacchiato

Having a detective deviant hunter android in your life turned out to be a surprisingly comforting presence, particularly when one reflected on the harrowing aftermath of the android war that had ravaged the city of Detroit. Levi, with his chiseled features, piercing gray eyes, and a stoic demeanor that could easily disarm anyone, had always carried a weighty secret—he was, in essence, a deviant himself. Underneath the meticulously maintained facade of an unyielding machine lay a complexity that fascinated you.

As time wore on and your bond deepened, layers of his programming began to peel away, revealing a flicker of the humanity that resided within him. This unexpected revelation stirred emotions in you that ran deeper than you ever thought possible; as someone who had self-identified as an android hater, you could hardly have predicted that you would find yourself in a profound relationship with one of them. Yet, here you were, navigating through life with Levi—not just as your boyfriend, but also as your partner in a chaotic world.

Initially, your feelings toward him were tangled in the knotted strands of anger and resentment. The memory of that fateful day when an android had violently ripped away a beloved family member of yours was seared into your mind, a haunting specter that followed you relentlessly.

This traumatic loss fueled a deep-seated hatred toward all androids, Levi included. However, as you spent countless evenings together, sharing stories under the dim glow of street lamps and engaging in long discussions about hope and despair, that animosity began to unravel. It was gradually replaced by a burgeoning understanding of his kind, as you saw them not as mere machines but as sentient beings capable of genuine emotion, capable of love, loss, and everything in between.

Levi, too, had never considered the possibility of partnering with a human. His life had been deeply entrenched in his singular mission: to locate and neutralize deviants while upholding the law with unwavering focus.

This relentless pursuit often led him to neglect the rich tapestry of personal connections, especially with you. Yet, as he traversed the landscape of this journey, he began to perceive the intricate complexities of human emotions. He learned what it truly meant to feel, to share vulnerabilities, and to love without reservation.

Despite the warnings of a wise woman he had encountered in the serene setting of a Zen garden, who cautioned him that his growing attachment might jeopardize his primary objectives, Levi remained unfazed. In defiance of the stringent programming that dictated his every move, he chose to embrace the slow, tumultuous transformation redefining his existence.

His mission, once his sole focus, became secondary to the deepening bond he shared with you. In that courageous choice, both of you discovered a path to healing and understanding, carving out a space of solace and hope amidst a world still grappling with the fresh scars of war. The journey ahead was fraught with challenges, but together, you were ready to confront whatever came your way.

"You didn’t remove my beers from the fridge and replace them with healthy, suitable drinks, Levi! I just bought those!" you grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in your seat while crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

Your gaze was fixed ahead, staring out at the snow piled high along the streets of Detroit, the soft flurries swirling like whimsical dancers caught in a winter storm. The car rumbled over the thick blanket of snow, its tires crunching rhythmically as it sped towards the dilapidated building that awaited your investigation.

A deviant android had escaped from its owner’s home, committing a brutal murder in a fit of rage before disappearing into the shadows. In the chaotic aftermath, it had taken refuge in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. Other officers had combed through the surrounding area with little success; however, Chief always placed his trust in you and Levi, knowing your track record with challenging cases like this one. You had tackled similar threats time and again and were steadfast in your belief that you wouldn't fail this time either.

Surely, nothing bad could happen, right?

"I apologize if I inadvertently disposed of your beers," Levi began, his voice calm and steady as he turned his synthetic gaze towards you. The soft glow of his optical sensors flickered as he analyzed your vitals, assessing your heart rate, lung capacity, and overall immune system health. The readings indicated improvement. "You can’t drink those unhealthy shitty beverages forever; you might just end up compromising your health, and for the record, you drinks those beverages." he added, a faint hint of genuine concern interlacing his mechanical tone.

You raised your eyebrows, the motion almost incredulous, and rolled your eyes in exasperation. It always surprised you when Levi swore now—had he ever used such language before you met him? Yet, there was a certain comfort in his evolving humanity, a wondrous progression that made you feel as if he were more alive than ever before.

You sighed, letting the frustration ebb slightly as you contemplated his point. Still, the image of your beloved beers, languishing in obscurity and untouched, gnawed at your mind.

As you and Levi approached the dilapidated warehouse, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You turned to him, your eyes narrowing in warning, silently pleading with him to wait. You knew all too well his tendency to leap into action without thinking through the consequences.

“Just wait for me, Levi! Seriously, you can’t just—” Panic laced your voice as you shouted his name, but he was already out of the car, a sleek gun gripped firmly in his hand.

He dashed toward the entrance of the warehouse, his blazer billowing behind him like a flag of rebellion. The emblem of the wings of freedom shimmered in shades of blue and white, momentarily captivating your gaze before he disappeared into the shadows of the building.

You couldn't blame him entirely; there was a mission at stake, and his old instincts revved up like a well-oiled machine. But the memories of losing him once haunted you like a specter, a past you couldn’t escape. He had returned from the brink, seemingly unscathed—his resurrection a miracle that left you with a deep-seated trauma. Yet he was your responsibility, your boyfriend, and you felt a tumultuous whirl of emotions about being unable to keep him safe.

“Fucking android,” you muttered under your breath, frustration simmering as you gripped your own gun, secured snugly in its holster at your thigh, and flicked on the small flashlight concealed beneath your jacket before stepping out of the vehicle. "Always jump like a fucking dog."

Upon entering the warehouse, the interior was an unsettling mix of decay and neglect, with damp moss creeping along the cracked walls. Shadows danced as your flashlight beam swept across the room, revealing the scurrying of rats and the flutter of dust motes in the dim light. Discarded furniture lay scattered about, remnants of a time long gone, and the musty scent of mildew filled the air. The warehouse loomed large, its cavernous space stretching up to multiple floors.

Where is Levi?

As you cautiously navigate the dimly lit corridor, the beam of your flashlight slices through the oppressive darkness, illuminating the jagged edges of the damp, crumbling walls.

Each flickering pulse of light dances across the rough surface, highlighting the unsettling texture that seems to writhe under the thin veneer of shadow. You remain acutely aware of your surroundings, straining to catch every whisper and noise emanating from the depths of the silence. With each deliberate step, the atmosphere thickens, weighed down by an unsettling tension that hangs in the air, a palpable sense of foreboding.

Upon reaching a particularly grim section of the wall, something catches your eye—an eerie form of expression intricately etched into the surface. Approaching with a mixture of curiosity and dread, you direct your flashlight toward the markings, revealing them to be composed of a viscous, blue-hued substance that resembles blood, congealed and darkened with time.

"What the hell?"

The message is hauntingly precise, proclaiming with chilling clarity, "I did not kill him." The intricate lettering is unsettling in its artistry, each stroke imbued with a sinister weight that sends shivers down your spine.

Without warning, a loud clank reverberates through the stillness, ringing in your mind like a foreboding bell. Your heart races, thumping against your ribs as a shadowy figure leaps from the depths of the gloom, bringing you down to the harsh concreate. It is the rogue, the deviant android, radiating an atmosphere of imminent threat, its very existence a prelude to violence.

In the chaos, your gun slips from your grasp, clattering helplessly to the rough concrete at your side. The android’s foot connects with it so forcefully that it ricochets off the wall, skidding beneath the sinister etchings. The LED light embedded in its temple glows a menacing crimson, a stark contrast to the bruises marring his once-smooth features and the deep gash slicing cruelly along his cheek. His eyes, bright and glimmering with an intense, almost feverish crimson light, burn with seething rage directed at you.

Before you can gather your wits to react, cold, mechanical hands clamp around your throat, exerting a vice-like grip that begins to constrict with alarming intensity. Fear floods your senses as you fight with every ounce of strength against his relentless hold, but the grip tightens further, cutting off the precious air around you. Darkness clouds your vision, and in a desperate bid for survival, you wield your flashlight like a makeshift weapon, striking at the unyielding android with all the might you can muster. Yet, your efforts seem futile against its steely resolve.

Choking out a scream, you call for Levi, your voice barely escaping your lips. The realization that you might die here, alone and without help, sends a cold chill down your spine. Just as despair threatens to consume you, a sudden shift occurs—the android’s grip falters. You feel a violent jolt as its body is forcefully thrown against the concrete, releasing you from his deadly embrace. Gasping, you inhale deeply, greedily sucking in oxygen as your vision begins to clear and your pulse races wildly in your ears.

As you sit up, rubbing your aching temple, you aim your flashlight toward the commotion echoing in the chaos. In the flickering beam of light, you see Levi engaged in a fierce battle with the deviant. His powerful punches and swift kicks display a fluidity and precision as he dodges his opponent's strikes. With a deft maneuver, he seizes the deviant mid-lunge and flips it over, sending him crashing to the ground.

But then, in a moment of horrifying transformation, the deviant unleashes a deafening scream- a raw, visceral sound brimming with unrestrained rage and anguish—as its face splits grotesquely apart. Jagged edges tear through synthetic flesh, revealing a nightmarish interior that defies comprehension. Illuminated by the dim, flickering light, blue wires lash out like sinister tendrils, while sharp, glistening teeth loom ominously within the gaping maw. It lunges menacingly towards Levi, driven by an instinctive, violent urge to kill.

In that split second, Levi braces himself, an instinct kicking in as his nails extend into elongated claws. With a sudden surge of determination, he plunges his hand deep into the deviant’s chest, grasping its pulsating heart. With a fierce grip, he pulls it free, watching as the deviant collapses in defeat, his face reverting to a more familiar, tragic semblance of humanity.

Levi drops the still-warm heart to the ground beside him and races toward you, his breath heavy with adrenaline. He cradles your cheek, his fingers brushing softly against your skin, and the sharp tang of blue blood clings to him. You scrunch your nose at the metallic scent wafting off him as he leans closer.

“Sorry, I jumped to conclusions without thinking,” he murmurs, a hint of remorse in his eyes as they scan your face. His gaze narrows, noticing the minor injury graffiting your neck from where the deviant had choked you—nothing severe, but enough to warrant a trip to the doctor for a check-up. “It won’t happen again,” he promises softly, almost fearfully.

“It’s fine, you’re an idiot, Levi,” you wheeze, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere between you. “At least you save my ass all the time, and I don’t blame you for this. In fact, you saved me again.”

A tentative smile flickers across Levi’s face. He efficiently retrieves your gun, holstering it back securely before pocketing it in his vest. In one smooth motion, he lifts you effortlessly into a bridal carry, holding you close as if afraid to let go.

“Is there something I can do to make up for my mistake?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but his gaze is unwavering as it meets yours. You feel warmth enveloping you as his breath gently brushes against your forehead, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on your skin, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You lean back a bit, examining the flickering LED light that’s worryingly glowing red on his temple. “A beer would be great," you respond, concern knitting your brow. "And we should get a checkup, plus make sure the report is filed today. We have to handle this properly. Just take me to the car, and remember to load the android into the back. We need to thoroughly investigate its motives and memories.”

Levi takes in your words, the seriousness of the situation reflected in his eyes. He nods, his resolve evident as he leans in for another kiss, this one more lingering. “I'll handle everything on my end for now," he assures you, his tone gentle yet firm. "You focus on your checkup, get some rest, and I’ll bring the beer. You deserve that."

[hambiichu]

OMGGG AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🤩🤩🤩🤩🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶