Levi Ackerman x Reader Oneshots

Sweet Sweet Sunday | fluff

A/N: long time no see, I got out of my writing slump lol and also updated my series 'lover' (yes based on the Taylor swift song)  if you want roommate!levi x reader, with lots of yearning and fluff moments, so feel free to check it out,

hope to upload a lot more works this summer so please stick around and thank you for reading !!! This means a lot to me :)
-

Entrapped, your eyes lazily open. These four walls that surround you are impatient to welcome you to a new day.

A few blinks is all you need to adjust to the new brightness of the room. A single stretch is all you need to help awaken your body. You take care not to move so suddenly. The cage of hands still holds onto your waist, desperate to keep a hold of you. A silent fear that you'll disappear.

Unable to move, you instead take the luxury of this moment. Tufts of hair tickle your skin continuously with every rise and fall of his chest.

You know better than to ruin the moment.

Slowly, gently, one by one, limbs begin to move. Light, fluttery kisses as a morning call. No words need to be said between the two of you. Not when your souls are glued together, binded. You know the words he wants to say. They linger on his tongue, transferred to you by a soft kiss.

Inhaling those three words, they provide warmth to your body. A warmth that no heat stronger than the sun could provide.

One by one, limbs begin to leave the bed. Still attached, following closely. Bare feet meet the cold tiles of the bathroom. For once, the blue tiles escape the suffocation of clothes being discarded. The heat of warm water soon floods the room, a smoky mirror and soapy giggles.

One towel. Not a problem.

Two clean bodies and one tear stained floor.

Lingering eyes observe each other, an inexplicable shyness now creeping in at the most normal task of dressing. Two bodies perfectly sculpted, made for each other.

You know your way around now. Able to confidently walk down these hallways with your eyes closed. The glow of sunlight helps to lead you nonetheless, reflecting off the old coat of white paint.

Unlike all the other days of the week, Sundays are probably the only day of the week that he favors the most. No rush, no work, no plans. One single day of the week where he can be completely selfish and keep you all to himself.

Your hips are lifted up onto his marble counter, before he would've scolded you, now his fingers cause a deep imprint on your waist as he lifts you.

Observing, your eyes never leave his back. You can see how the outline of his muscles work. Reaching, lifting. He knows how you like it. Your coffee, your kisses, your toast.

A white plate dotted in handcrafted flowers. Originally yours, placed down beside you with a cup of coffee that reads a rude innuendo as its design.

A kiss speaks as your thanks. Fingers scratch at his skin. Soft, gentle and shy. You think you could do this all day.

Numb lips, the coffee is only half cold when you finally acknowledge its existence.

Happy hums fill the room. The outside world is barely heard, despite an open window.  The character of the summer brings out the good side of mother nature.

Two full stomachs and satisfied bodies dance around, cleaning up any remnants of last night's previous dinner.

You tug at his hand, leading him to his own couch as if he doesn't know the way. An unfinished novel lays open on his coffee table.

His blankets lay around in disarray, welcoming you in. His open arms barely offer an invite before you scramble on top, finding your dog-eared page.

Picking up where you left off, you're already immersed into the world, Levi follows, closely tailing behind, muttering under his breath about the haste speed of which you digest the words.

Patiently waiting, you grow comfortable in his arms, your toes trailing up and down his calves.

After a few chapters or so, he lets out a sigh. Being the mind reader you are, you pick up on his restlessness. Bookmarking a new page, you set the book down. It's crumpled cover still holding beauty, coffee stained and all.

You flip over onto his chest, taking the opportunity to wrap your arms around his body. Warm and whole. He reaches for his phone. Disturbing your position slightly. A few clicks later and his favorite jazz playlist is playing.

The likes of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald fill the silence that follows on from the late morning. It's already approaching noon.

Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself to be taken by the sweet melody. Humming quietly along.

A miniature part of you wants to suggest dancing. Tied to his soul, you can already hear his refusal in your ears.

The song comes to an end and another begins on shuffle.

His fingers circle your back, repeatedly creating patterns unknown to you.

"I bet you want to dance."

Just from that single sentence you're embarrassed. Hiding your smile in his scented shirt. Oh, how bound you were.

Slipping off the sofa, he drags you almost as if it was you who refused.

Joined together, hands wrapped around his neck, his own placed steadily on your waist. Swaying in the morning sun that gleams through the kitchen curtains. A sight for the neighbors to see.

You could do this for the rest of your life.

And so could he.