Levi and Gajeel

Must Love Cats- Chapter Three

Levy hadn’t planned on being a pet sitter when she’d moved into the city. She also hadn’t planned on pet sitting for a sex god either, but here she was.

AKA the one where Levy is a pet sitter, Gajeel is her client, and Lily is the glue that binds them together.

Keep reading

. Obsessive Impulsive . 18

Full Summary: “‘I’ve been trying to find you alone for weeks, but you’ve been avoiding me.’  He clicked his tongue, as if scolding her.  'I tried approaching, but you always had someone with you to give me nasty words and looks.  They turned you against me, Miss Levy.’"

Pairings: Gajeel x Levy

Warnings: I strode for a darker fic again.  This is not for sensitive readers.  Violence, stalking, etc.  

Author’s Note: This is a very, very twisted gift for Bubbles, who has not been allowed to so much as read a single chapter.  This will update every other day.

Gajeel hit the ground with enough force to shake the floor. Levy didn’t take her hand away from her mouth, trying to stifle her ragged sobs, blood staining her blue hair and clothes and staining her skin-

Gajeel heard her and whirled around, nostrils flaring and a deadly look in his eyes. The look vanished when he found Levy finally lowering her hand and trying to struggle free of the body that had slumped over her. “Levy-”

“I killed him,” she whispered as she was hauled free. Sitting up, she looked at her blood-slicked hands, shaking. “I… I killed him-” Her voice cracked, a hysterical sound from the back of her throat escaping her lips.

Gajeel rumbled low in his throat. Rage flooded him at the reeking stench of blood, the fact that half of it covered Levy. “You good?”

Understanding flashed through her, distracting her from her terror. “Y-yeah,” she stammered. “I’m…I’m not…” She licked her lips, suddenly gripping an iron-cuffed wrist. The one on her own was scratched and battered. Gajeel furrowed his pierced brow when he realized it had cracked and didn’t hesitate to ripe it from her wrist. It crumbled into dust.

“You ain’t hurt?” he checked. She shook her head, telling him he wasn’t, and then tightened her fingers on his arm. “C'mon, let’s get outta here then.”

“Gajeel,” she breathed, “I stabbed him with his own scissors.

Keep reading


I choose you. And I’ll choose you, over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you.