You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, animatedly telling him about your entire day. From the weird cashier at the store to the drama you overheard on the bus. Your hands move just as much as your mouth, gestures big and expressive.
Levi sits beside you, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, sipping his tea in silence. Every so often, he gives a small “hm” or nods, his eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing worth looking at in the room.
You pause mid-story. “You’re not bored?”
He arches an eyebrow. “If I was bored, I’d walk away.”
You blink. “…Oh.”
He sets his tea down, leans in just enough that his knee brushes yours.
“Go on. I wanna hear the rest.”
And that’s how you end up rambling for another hour, while Levi listens with the quiet patience of someone who (no matter how much he pretends otherwise) likes every single word that comes out of your mouth.
the corridor smelled of soap and steel. levi was polishing his blades again, cloth moving in those infuriatingly perfect circles.
“you’re going to wear them down to nothing,” you snapped, leaning against the doorframe. “we ride at dawn. sleep, levi.”
he didn’t look up. “if you spent less time nagging and more time cleaning properly, maybe i wouldn’t have to redo everything.”
“redo? i scrubbed this floor twice. you’re just being an obsessive prick.”
“tch. bold words from someone who still leaves corners dusty.” be finally glanced at you, grey eyes sharp. “most people know better than to talk to me like that.”
you stepped closer, crossing your arms. “good thing i’m not most people. someone has to tell you when you’re being an idiot about rest and training and everything.”
levi set the blade down with a soft clink. he stood, shorter than you but somehow towering anyway. his hand caught your wrist before you could poke his chest. “you talk too much.”
“and you listen too little.” your voice dropped, the familiar heat crackling between you. “but you only let me talk to you like this.”
a faint smirk tugged at his lips. down the hall, someone whispered, “they’re bickering like an old married couple again.”
levi didn’t deny it. he just pulled you a fraction closer, thumb brushing your pulse. “get some sleep. that’s an order.”
you smiled, refusing to move. “only if you do too, captain.”
he clicked his tongue, but didn’t let go.
everyone heard the arguments.
only you two knew how much he needed them… and how you were the only one he let stay.
a/n: merry christmas everyone and happy birthday Levi :D
———————
Levi loves you fresh out the shower.
You know how particular he is about cleanliness, so when his partner is all clean and soft…he adores it, more than he will admit.
So when you climb into bed beside him, hair damp and skin soft from your lotion, your not surprised to find him automatically pulling you towards him and onto his lap, straddling his muscular thighs.
“You showered?”
“Mhmm.”
Levi buries his face into your neck without a second thought, you shiver as you feel his nose brush against your neck.
He slowly meets your eyes. “you smell good.” he comments, a hand coming up to run through your hair.
He leans forward slightly, lips brushing against yours.
his lips latch onto yours, the hand in your hair moving to your cheek, holding your face as he kisses you.
You both slowly break away, you giggle as you notice the slight flush of his cheeks.
“Your blushing, Levi.” You tease.
“…i’m not blushing.” His eyes dart away from your face.
Levi’s greatest weakness was you, and despite his best efforts at hiding it, you see right through him.
~ Husband!Levi wakes up before you every single morning. He pads around the house barefoot, starts the kettle, and takes his time preparing tea, one cup for himself, and one exactly the way you like it. He just sits beside you on the bed, watching your chest rise and fall. There’s something calming about the sight of you tucked under the covers, wearing one of his old shirts.
~ Husband!Levi is absurdly territorial, not in a jealous way, but in a quiet, calculated way only people with survival instincts notice. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t argue. He just watches. eyes sharp, jaw tight. When someone gets too familiar with you. He steps closer, hand resting low on your back, fingers lightly tapping your spine. If someone pushes past you in a crowd, Levi’s the type to grab your waist and reposition you next to him with zero hesitation.
~ Husband!Levi keeps your home cleaner than most hospitals, but he doesn’t mind your clutter. Only yours. Your clothes on the floor? He folds them. Your hair in the drain? He scoops it out. You could leave makeup all over the sink and papers scattered on the table and he wouldn’t say a thing, he just cleans around them. He once found your necklace tangled on the bathroom counter and spent thirty minutes undoing the knot before hanging it carefully on your nightstand.
~ Husband!Levi wears his wedding ring like armour. He’s not flashy. He didn’t want some expensive band, and he didn’t want to make a big deal about the ceremony. But that ring? He touches it constantly — when he’s thinking, when he’s irritated, when he misses you. It grounds him. If he has to take it off for work or training, he keeps it in a tiny cloth pouch tucked inside his inner jacket pocket, and he checks for it twice before putting his gear on.
~ Husband!Levi remembers every tiny thing about you, especially the things you forget. He knows your coffee order, your shoe size, what side of the bed you prefer, and exactly how long your bad moods last when you’re sleep-deprived. You’ll mention craving something in conversation, days later, it’s in the fridge. You’ll complain about a headache, he’ll hand you water and your preferred meds before you even ask. He doesn't make a show of it. He just...pays attention
~ Husband!Levi doesn’t verbalize “I love you”, but when he does, it means everything. He’s not careless with words. He’ll call you “brat” or “woman” or “pain in my ass,” but when it comes to the real thing, he doesn’t waste it. He says “I love you” on nights when the world feels too heavy. When you’re curled up in bed, when you’ve had a terrible day, when you’re not even looking at him and he can finally say it without being overwhelmed by your reaction. It’s always low, always gruff. Sometimes it slips out when he’s holding you too tight. Other times it’s whispered when he thinks you’re asleep.
~ Husband!Levi is physical, not in a lustful way, but in a grounding way. He needs to touch to believe you’re real. When you sit beside him, his hand will automatically land on your thigh. When your cooking, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder. If you’re standing together in silence, he’ll brush his fingers along your arm or let your pinkies link. You once asked him if he even noticed how often he touched you. He stared for a moment and said, “Not really. Feels normal.” And that’s the thing with Levi, touching you isn’t supposed to be showy. It’s instinct.
~ Husband!Levi is surprisingly soft when you're sick or injured—even if you're being a stubborn brat about it. You could be sneezing nonstop, wrapped in a hundred blankets, claiming you’re “fine,” and he’ll just frown and say, “Bullshit.” He’ll monitor your temperature, feed you soup (homemade or not, he makes sure it’s hot), fluff your pillows, and glare at you if you try to get out of bed. The only time he ever truly panicked was when you got hurt badly once, he didn’t say much then, just held your hand until you came to, knuckles white from how hard he gripped you.
~ Husband!Levi doesn’t believe in grand romantic gestures, but you’ll never have to ask for flowers. He brings them anyway. Not for show. Just… when he’s thinking of you. He’ll come home after a long day, toss his coat on the chair, and hand you a small bouquet without saying anything. Sometimes they’re wildflowers, sometimes fresh lavender, sometimes from a stall near work. He acts like it’s no big deal. “Don’t make it weird,” he’ll say as you smile and coo over them, cheeks turning pink. But he likes seeing them in a vase on the windowsill. He glances at them every time he walks by.
~ Husband!Levi doesn’t smile much, not with his mouth, anyway. But with you, his whole face softens. His voice drops a little lower. His brows relax. His shoulders ease. You tell a bad joke, and while he doesn’t laugh, his lips twitch and he shakes his head like he can’t believe he married someone like you. He stares at you sometimes when you’re not looking—long, quiet stares filled with so much weight it knocks the breath out of you when you finally catch him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, grinning. He shrugs. “Just… still figuring out how I got this lucky.”
