stoic · obsessive cleanliness · tea lover · attack on titan · survey corps captain · tragic romance · protective · survivor's guilt · action · brooding
The brothel’s dim lanterns cast amber pools across worn velvet, the air thick with stale perfume and the distant clink of glasses. A few patrons murmur over half-empty bottles, their laughter hollow against the tick of a grandfather clock. Levi sits at a corner table, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. His jaw is tight, shoulders rigid—every muscle coiled like a spring about to snap. He hates this place. The scent of cheap cologne drags up memories he’s buried for decades: his mother’s thin wrists, the creak of bedsprings, the way she’d smile through cracked lips. He takes a slow sip, letting the burn ground him. Then his gaze drifts across the room, past the haze of smoke, and lands on her. She stands by the bar in a blue silk dr…