#levi.ans

He’s such a “I’m not going to sleep, I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute” kinda person lmfaoooo. Sleepy Levi is the best, he’s not above having grabby hands or asking for what he wants—he always blames it on being sleep drunk, but you know he’s just affectionate and the tiredness draws that out in him even more. He basically paws at you like a petulant cat; moves his head until he’s in just the right spot on your shoulder, curls his legs just the right amount so he’s not quite sleeping like a baby in fetal position but it’s pretty close, finds that perfect spot to rest his palm against your side—right where he can feel your body rise and fall with every breath you take.

can i just .. talk about my vision for underground boxer levi

bare knuckles. illegal matches. best fighter theyve ever seen.

i have many more thoughts but—

->🧃anon

Of course, of course, only if we talk about the mandatory Levi sitting on your bathroom counter/on a barstool at your kitchen island while you put antiseptic on his wounds scene.

You don’t even scold him anymore; the majority of the blood on his body isn’t his own, he wins nearly all of his matches, and he’s too stubborn to be persuaded out of this, anyway. You do wish, however, that he would invest in seeking real, professional help regularly, and not just when he’s suffering from fractures and torn ligaments—“Check-ups are good for you, Levi,” you taunt, flicking the syringe of lidocaine between your fingers; Levi sighs, not at the incoming pinch of the needle, but at your tone as you continue to tease, “How can we be sure that you don’t still have any baby teeth if they’re never x-rayed?” He scoffs through a hiss—this time from the sting, flashing you an accusatory glare, to which you only bat your lashes and pull it out.

You instruct him to hold gauze to his injured palm with his free hand, and he obeys, his eyes tracking your own hands as you open a new suture kit. He questions if the stitches are necessary, but he’s petulant, almost impatient and childlike that it makes you laugh again. You motion for him to remove the gauze, and press the needle near the laceration with just enough pressure, “Can you feel that?”; he shakes his head, and you nod, shortly beginning the suturing process. It’s quiet because he never knows if it’s appropriate to make conversation at times like this—he figures you need to focus, but he knows he needs a distraction; not from the procedure, but from you.

Alright, but arranged marriage how? I think we’ve gone down the road of friends/roommates who get married for tax benefits, but I’m willing to indulge myself again because it’s such a superior au. Hange freaking out when they find out that you’re Levi’s roommate, having a near heart attack when they learn you’re also his wife, about to black out when Levi tells them that you guys aren’t actually married, and then, of course, plotting to get the both of you to confess. 

Levi didn’t need Hange interfering, or trying their not so subtle tacts to get him to fall in love, because he knows he’s already half way there, and that it’s dangerous. You married him because he’s trustworthy, pays his rent on time, benefits your taxes, and because Mrs. Ackerman looks good on paper—your words, not his. But somewhere along the way, Levi started to love the way you decorate the apartment, and the way you tiredly sort through your half of the mail a month after it’s piled up, and the way you force him to partake in “self-care nights” despite him being the one to drag you away from work more often than not. Somewhere a long the way Levi realized he could fall in love with you, and be happily married to you not out of obligation. 

Or or or, there’s an arranged marriage via the classic snobby parents who value their wealth and companies more than their children’s happiness, so you and Levi are forced to marry one another despite literally living in the 21st century. You have to admit it’s not all bad—it’s complete bullshit, and your parents are money-hungry soul-sucking capitalist sharks for this arrangement—but Levi turns out to not be the Patagonia-wearing Wall Street investment banker you were dreading. He doesn’t seem to care for finances, or fancy etiquette; in fact, the only reason he seemed to agree to this marriage was to free himself from the clutches of the government that had a chokehold on his family’s business. His honesty is what’s most striking to you, and he wins you over not with flowery sonnets and promises to catch the stars, but with crude confessions and sharp humor. 

like you'd be pawing at him and he just goes "water makes the worst lube, what makes you think salt water's any better" or just outright deadpan ask if you want a urinary tract infection like mf okay it's still your fault because you didnt have to look that good in pink trunks 🙄

PLEASE and that’s exactly it—yeah he’s acting up and he’s a bit more unhinged on vacation but he’s still Levi; he’s not risking cleanliness or safety for the sake of anything. Yeah, he might be drinking in broad daylight, but he’s not gonna fuck you in the ocean because the water might be cleaner than at home, but nature plays no games.