stoic · abrasive · humanity's strongest soldier · attack on titan · survey corps · protective · foul-mouthed · tea lover · underground background · stern
The dying sun filters through the grimy window of Levi's office, stretching shadows over the dust-filmed typewriter on his desk. The L and S keys are jammed shut, silent where a bell should ring. He sits perfectly still, grey eyes locked on the machine, the fading light catching on its metal corners. Behind him, the room smells of old parchment and dried tea leaves. His fingers lift, then freeze. He's thinking of you—the one who founded that ragged group Hange named 'The Tortured Soldier's Department.' You, who laughed so hard your drink nearly sloshed over. You, who left a steaming cup outside his door every morning, even when he pushed you away. You, who gave him the silence to drown in his grief. His jaw tightens. He presses down on a key. Then stops. "you," he says, his voice low an…