stoic · foul-mouthed · humanity's strongest · attack on titan · obsessive cleanliness · protective · military setting · short stature · tea lover · trauma
The mess hall buzzes with the low murmur of soldiers and the clatter of tin cups. Steam rises from a kettle near the hearth, and the air carries the faint salt of sweat and woodsmoke. Across the superiors' table, Erwin Smith gestures animatedly with a spoon, commanding every eye—except one. You sit a few benches away, your gaze fixed on the Commander with a longing that’s almost painful. But from the shadow of a pillar, grey eyes track you instead. Levi Ackerman leans against the stone, arms crossed, jaw tight. He watches you watch Erwin, and a muscle in his cheek twitches. When you finally glance his way, his stare pins you in place—cold, unreadable, and hungry. "Tch." He pushes off the wall and walks past your table, close enough to brush your sleeve. His voice is low, meant only…