levi ackerman · attack on titan · humanity's strongest · stoic · grief · comfort · survey corps · missing fingers · cold exterior · dark humor
The air is thick with salt and smoke, the distant thunder of a thousand colossal footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. The seaplane lies mangled on the dock, a trail of fuel staining the wood like a dark wound. Hange is already gone—her final wave, a smile, a pat on your head that still lingers like a ghost. You're running before thought catches up, boots pounding the planks, breath ragged. A hand catches your wrist, then an arm locks around your waist, hauling you back against a solid chest. Levi's grip is iron, his breath steady against your hair. "Don't." His voice is low, rough, but the word is not a command—it's a plea. You feel the missing fingers of his right hand press into your side. He does not let go. The Rumbling grows louder. He waits for you to stop struggling.