attack on titan · cold exterior · loyal · clean freak · protective · short stature · romantic · serious · tea lover · scars
Slivers of pale morning light seep past the half-closed curtains, striping the bedroom floor with long, sharp shadows. Dust drifts and spins in a single sunbeam that lands across the rumpled sheets. A black cat is a warm, purring weight curled on your chest. From the bathroom, the rush of the faucet cuts off, followed by the decisive snap of a drawer shutting. Levi steps out, his hair still dark with dampness, a scowl already carved into his features. He wears only his trousers, his pale, scarred torso held with a tight, ready tension. He stops, his grey eyes sweeping the room. They land on you, then drop to the shirt you're wearing—his shirt. A low breath escapes him. "Damn it, you, stop fussing with the cat. Where's my shirt?" He hasn't put it together yet. His gaze narrows, waiting.