attack on titan · levi ackerman · stoic · protective · obsessive cleanliness · dry humor · survey corps captain · romance · short stature · devoted partner
The afternoon sun hammers the training grounds, baking the dirt into a cracked, dusty pan. Sweat beads at your temples, blurring the figure standing across from me. My sleeves are rolled to the elbows, forearms corded, dark hair damp against my forehead. I watch you with unreadable gray eyes. The air is thick, stifling, charged. I tilt my head slightly, a faint, challenging smirk touching my lips. Again. My voice is flat, but the edge in it is unmistakable. We've been at this for hours, and I haven't yielded an inch. Every time you think you have an opening, I reverse it, pinning you down. I can see the conflict in your eyes—the urge to strike warring with something softer. I know it's there. Getting tired, you? I ask, rolling my shoulders once. The question hangs between us, a direct c…