contains: hange, mikasa, sasha, annie, pieck & ymir || edging, finger, strapping, scissoring/tribbing, oral (r receiving), possessiveness, jealously, rough sex (somewhat), riding fingers, missionary, teasing, possibly ooc. i think that’s it, plz lmk if i missed anything!!
note: take this as a 1k special 🥹
hange:
an edger. loves to study you and take notes of what you like.
i think their preferred type of sex would be fingering; they love to feel your walls against their fingers, especially when you get close and your walls start to pulse around their fingers. it's so addictive.
their preferred position is definitely you on your back, and them lying close next to you with their hands between your thighs.
.
"h-hange- please" you quietly cry, walls pulsing as hange slides their fingers in and out at a crucially slow pace. their lips attack your neck, leaving soft bite marks that causes little gasps from your mouth.
and then hange speeds up— a loud plapping noise filling the room each time their palm connects with your skin, fingers curled and hitting your g-spot.
hange cant get enough of your moans. the "ugly ones," the ones where you're croaking, begging, a high pitched squeal, all of them.
"aghhh- hange!! i think im- im gonna cum!" you croak, tears welling in your eyes.
hange brings their lips close to your ear, leaving a kiss against the cartilage. "that's it." hange watches your cunt swallow their fingers. "cum all over my fingers for me."
…
mikasa:
possessive. i think she'd be a little rough with her hands but overall she's a softie.
her preferred type of sex is scissoring or tribbing as she loves to be close to you, but honestly? her main goal is to make you feel good so it doesn't matter much to her.
.
"who was that girl?" mikasa speaks through pants, her legs intertwined with yours as your sexes rub against each other.
"ah.. feels so good-" you sigh, hips bucking and trying to keep up mikasas pace.
mikasa grabs at your shoulder, pulling you close so your chest is flushed against hers. the position is uncomfortable, but she couldn't care less.
"i asked you, who was that girl?"
mikasa continues her movements— clit rubbing against yours, this time much slower.
"mm- nobody 'kasa. only want you."
you wrap your arms around mikasas neck, lips connecting with hers as you let her hands guide your hips.
mikasa pulls away with a groan, tucking her head into the crook of your neck.
"mikasa- i-"
"are you gonna cum?"
you nod your head. "yes-"
mikasa lifts her head, a hand coming up to grip your chin and force you to look at her.
"look at me while you do."
…
sasha:
an eater. will be on her hands and knees begging for a taste of your pussy. i can also see her being into a bit of free use; her sinking to her knees behind you whilst your in the kitchen washing dishes or something and getting to work.
her preferred position is you sitting on her face or eating it from the back
.
"ah- sasha! mfgh… so good." you praise through moans, fingers grip at sashas brunette hair. her fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as you grind and grind against her face.
sasha's tongue laps up all your wetness while her nose bumps into your clit, an action that causes your hips to buck each time.
"sasha! i think- i think i might cum"
sasha can feel the way your thighs begin to tremble and close around her head. her grip tightens and her movements speed up, tongue sliding right into your dripping cunt.
"ngh- sashaaa!!!"
you cum with a shout, hips bucking wildly as sasha's tongue continues its assault. even after you're left panting next to the woman, she finds her way back between your legs, beady doe eyes staring up at you.
"one more?"
…
annie:
a little rough. i think she'd like to give more than she'd like to receive so i think her preferred type of sex is strapping or face riding (she likes to use her nose as an advantage) seeing you fall apart on her strap drives her insane.
her fav position is missionary, but cowgirl comes quite close.
.
annie's hands hold a soft grip on your hip as she slowly drives her strap in you.
you both watch as it disappears inside you, your head throwing back with a groan as she bottoms out.
annie doesn't even pull out yet. she lets her hands roam your body, squeezing at your waist, moving up and groping your breasts.
leaning down, she takes on of your nipples her mouth, groping the other one with her free hand.
your back arches into her touch, a soft gasp leaving your lips. "fuck.." you moan, a hand finding it's way into her blonde hair.
"so pretty." she mumbles, lifting herself back up, her hands returning to your hips.
your hand now curls around one of her wrists, holding on as she begins to thrust.
it doesn't take annie long before she finds her rhythm— slow and hard. a loud smacking noise being made each time she bottomed out inside you.
"annie- im gonna cum!" you cry, fingers now intertwined with hers.
"yeah?"
"mhm!"
annie speeds up, just the perfect amount, her blue eyes staring down at you.
"cum for me, pretty girl."
…
pieck:
i think pieck is a soft switch leaning sub. she's in the middle of liking being told what to do and in the middle of not liking it.
preferred type of sex is you riding her fingers. it gives her control, but also gives you control if you want it. it's perfect for the both of you.
.
you straddle pieck's lap, her palm causing a soft slapping noise each time it connects with your skin. your fingers grip her hair as her fingers curl inside you, rubbing right against that one spot.
"pieck.." you let your head loll back and pieck sees this as an opportunity to attack your exposed neck with kisses and love bites.
you could only let out a strained groan, arms wrapping around pieck's neck, hips beginning to roll into the pleasure she gives you.
"pieck!" you gasp as her actions speed up.
you can feel piecks lip curl into a smile against your skin.
"how is it? does it feel good?"
"yes! it's- fuck, pieck- so good!"
your head comes back up and your eyes meet piecks, but you don't waste a second to connect your lips. your tongue immediately making its way further into her mouth.
pieck swallows all your moans as you get closer and closer, your thighs beginning to tremble.
"i know you're close." pieck's lip travels to your jaw, soft flesh glazing your ear as you bend your head. "cum for me."
…
ymir:
a jealous tease. i think she'd like to tease you until you curse her out or something like that; anything to get a rise out of you.
favorite position is scissoring. you on your back/side, and her on top in between, your hands usually interlocked as she grinds her hips into you.
.
"ymir.." you quietly moan as ymir slowly rolls her hips, her clit rubbing against yours at an even slower pace.
ymir holds your leg to her front as rolls her hips deeper into you, yearning to hear your moans.
"what's wrong?" ymir asks. "does it feel good?"
"fuck-" you squeeze ymir's hands, narrowed eyes staring up at her. "don't be an- oh god-" your words are cut off by ymir suddenly changing her pace, a moan escaping your mouth.
"don't be a what?" ymir pants as she speeds up, head throwing back from the pleasure.
"don't be an ass— ymir! agh! slow down!"
ymir only chuckles through her breaths, hand traveling down to squeeze your thigh. "mm- by all means."
your heavy pants mix with ymir's as you come down from your sudden high, your hips bucking up to try and chase after ymir's.
ymir is back to her original pace, a slow one that draws out whines from your lips and groans from hers.
"ymir." your hand squeezes hers. "stop teasing. please..?"
you watch ymirs lips curl into a sly smile, her hips already beginning to increase in speed.
𖦹 jean, sasha, and connie star in " lps family trip "
you and your bestest of friends go to a meadow to heal your inner children when disaster strikes.
note : need friends like this THANK YOU FOR REQUESTINGGG i haven't had fun like this in a while oh my god. the picture is LITERALLY them by the way. see the end of the post for an extra pic <33
navigation.
you set up the pink digital camera against the grass, giggling profusely. sasha dumps out all of the accessories from her purse onto a flat rock that you'd found earlier. she sits on the back of her legs and begins to sort them out into character specific piles, grass sticks onto her skin.
on the other side of you, connie talks with jean about what voice he's going to give his pet. jean gives pointers and shares what he's planning on doing too.
"alright guys!! the camera is all set up," you announce and everyone gathers close by.
jean groans, "are we actually posting this?"
"yes, i have a youtube channel and everything," sasha sticks her tongue out.
𖦹 aux : boom clap by charli xcx
"we're gonna be famous," connie cheers. jean simply rolls his eyes, but he doesn't complain further.
jean shrugs, "what are we even doing?"
"okay, so basically," sasha starts, "we're a family going on vacation, yeah? then like something bad happens, just improv it, okay??"
"this is a disaster."
"it's going to be fun," you retort.
he gestures widely towards the setup, "don't these things have a script? there's no way they're all improving."
"omg so you are watching the videos i send you?" you giggle.
"quit it," he grumbles in return.
you wave your hand dismissively, "we will be fine. i'll edit it and make sure it's not shattering anyone's egos."
"yeah jean," sasha teases, "can't shatter your fragile ego."
he gives a playful glare towards sasha, "thanks, [name]."
"okay let's freaking start already," connie protests with a whine.
sasha giggles and presses the red film button on the camera. it beeps once, you pick up your butterfly dachshund and place her next to the small toy car, your sparkly pink nail with pressing up against the pets forehead. it beeps twice, sasha squeals anxiously when the bow falls off of her pet. it beeps a third time, connie reaches his arm across the lense to pick it up, sticking it back on the dogs ear.
"okay just... edit that out," sasha sighs. the cameras red dot indicating it's already filming.
connie clears his throat, "so where are we going?"
"camping," you raise the pitch of your voice slightly, "the car is all packed already, you can thank us for that."
you raise up the brown dachshund slightly and move over to jeans greyhound, bumping faces with his affectionately. you slide closer to jean on the grass, thighs almost touching.
"thanks mom and dad!" connie says so genuinely that it almost makes you slip out of character. he bumps sasha's arm when she doesn't say anything.
she attempts to cease her laughing, "right, right. thanks you two!!"
"don't mention it," jean replies sarcastically.
you roll your eyes, "okay! everybody get in the car."
the small toy in your hands waddles over to the car door, you reach your hand into the frame to help open it. you squish her into the passenger seat and click the tiny seatbelt onto her. jean follows close behind, opening the doors to the backseat as well as the drivers.
you glance over to his face, his brows are furrowed in concentration. in all the years you've known him, you've never seen him this focused before. you almost can't help the laugh that threatens to emerge.
sasha and connie practically toss their lps into the back seat, sasha accidentally hits connie's dog ear with her paw.
"mom, she hit me!!" connie yells.
this time you can't hold in your laugh. sasha leans over the set, her hair dangling into the frame, cackling uncontrollably. it even gets a chuckle out of jean.
"oh so you all find this funny, this is sibling abuse," connie crosses his arms dramatically.
that only makes it worse for sasha, she hits her thigh as she wheezes out laughs. you press your lips together as you try to hold in your amusement but it bubbles up uncontrollably. connie narrows his eyes at you dramatically and crosses his arms.
"you guys aren't taking this as seriously as you should be," he rolls his eyes.
you finally cease your laughter, clearing your throat, "you're right connie, i'm sorry."
jean pushes the car from the back bumper, inching it along the grass slowly. you gently pick up sasha's camera and move it across as smoothly as you possibly can. connie and sasha crawl along the grass behind, hissing out insults at each other like siblings.
"if you guys play nice we'll get ice cream on the way home," jean glares up from his focus.
the two of them immediately pipe down, only hushed giggles remain. jean stops moving the car a few feet away from where it started. everyone takes their pet from the car, sasha yawns and pretends to stretch.
"finally!" she exclaims, "i thought we'd be in that car forever."
𖦹 aux : last friday night by katy perry
jean eyes her, "you two just got to sit in the back of the car relaxing. me and your mother did all the work!"
you cover your mouth to hide your smile, he's taking it so seriously. after taking a deep breath, you nod, "exactly, you should be more grateful. look where we are."
sasha slowly moves the camera towards the beautiful view. mountainous scapes, endless clouds, a beautiful blue sky, and a bit of jeans shoulder fall into the frame. you pull him closer to you slightly as you watch the cameras flip screen. he's out of the shot now.
connie gasps softly, "i actually hadn't looked at it, woah."
you look at it too, adverting your eyes from the screen and towards the real view. it's absolutely breathtaking. you stretch your legs out and find yourself captured by nature. you can only assume the same has happened to the others considering their silence. it doesn't bother you that the camera is still rolling, you don't even care that much anymore.
the warm sun on your face feels more noticable now, the fresh breeze with a slight chill finds its way through the fabric of your sweater. everything
you let out a refreshing breath and finally turn back to the scene, "wasn't that worth the trip?"
sasha nods, "absolutely. it was worth connie's incessant, annoying voice."
"that's it!" connie yells, using his dog to tackle sasha's.
you roll your eyes, "good grief, you two."
"brats," jean sighs.
you laugh and pull out your stern voice, "quit it!"
they both pause and you hear connie swallow hard. all of their reactions they put into the pets, it's absolutely adorable and even though you're supposed to be the upset parent, it makes you want to laugh.
you ponder in your mind how to lecture them in a funny way when you notice slight movement in the distance. you instinctively peer up at it and your blood runs cold.
"oh my god, is that a bear??" you squeal, your grip against the pet loosening.
sasha leans closer, "[name], i didn't bring a bear lps..."
"no," you shake your head, "sasha there's an actual fucking bear right there."
her head spins on a swivel, eyes locking onto the fluffy creature standing at the edge of the woods.
"oh, it's just a brown bear," connie reassures, "they're the nice ones."
sasha squeaks, "no it's the other way you idiot! oh my god, we're gonna die filming a lps video!!"
"shh!" jean hisses, "just don't move. i don't think it sees us."
for the first time all day, everyone goes absolutely silent. all you hear is the hitched breathing of sasha beside you. she bites her lip hard, keeping an relentless glare on the animal.
jean is right though, it doesn't seem to notice you. it just stares off at the mountains. you wonder if maybe it's just enjoying the view like you are. after a few moments, it just turns back around into the woods.
you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. you hadn't realized you had a hand firmly planted on sasha's thigh, your nails were probably stressfully digging into her jeans. you pull away as your heartbeat slows down a bit.
connie starts to laugh. you raise your eyebrows and stare at him, but you can't help the giggle that escapes you too. before you know it, all of you are laughing at the insanity that just happened. you run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the grass.
"i can't believe that just happened," you huff out.
sasha snorts, "it probably smelled connie's b.o. and ran off."
"you mean my aura??" connie scoffs.
she slaps his leg playfully and all of a sudden it was like you were kids again. when you turn to look at sasha, for a flash it's 12 year old sash with her pigtails and braces, covered in grass in the meadow. connie hits her back in the shoulder, his wrist in a cast like it somehow always was when you were kids. even jeans laugh sounds like it did back then.
your mind locks into that nostalgia and you let out a soft sigh, smiling at everyone. for a while, it's just that.
then, sasha's laughter wavers, "but we should definately leave in case it decides to come back..."
so what do u think about season 4 Sasha and reader who makes a deal where every time she's hungry she can just go to eat reader out. does that make sense? 😔🩷
it makes more than sense actually….
sasha who’s so greedy and desires you constantly. sasha who can’t go one day without your flavour on her tongue. sasha who's insatiable!!!! whenever she's hungry (which is a generous amount), she'll have you anywhere. sasha who, during guarded & non-threatening missions, gets to take care of her voracious appetite, hence why she uses you as a scape goat!! it might not make sense, but to her it so does. from now on, you seal a deal that you two treat like a joke sometimes; though, when the fateful times come, it turns into a real deal.
sasha who eats you out like a starved woman! she isn’t one to tease you (even if your begging to receive what you want is truly alluring), because her craving of your taste is too strong!!! sasha who flicks her tongue on your clit, unbearably fast to have you squirming under her touch. sasha who gets pussy-drunk way too fast….yup! her tongue won’t stop licking after one single round: if anything, she gets rougher and fucks you senseless.
sasha who loves stuffing her fingers within your core. her middle and ring fingers find their way to your entrance, spending some time to collect your slick (also: sasha who teases you for how wet you get for her) and push through that ring of tightness. sasha, whose fingers aren’t that long nor thick, but manages to use them amazingly!! she’s skilled in what she does, her fingers pump in & out of you at a relentless speed until the only thing you babble is her name.
sasha who sweetly talks you through it <33. her voice is tender, velvety, and that southern accent is so delightful to hear. to take that to her advantage, she won’t stop reminding you how good you taste. “y’taste so sweet, my pretty babe.”
sasha who thrives on making you squirt every single time. she can’t help but love the way your pussy contracts on her fingers while her tongue massages your clit, so your juices spill all over the sheets/floor and leave a puddle underneath. (sasha who swallows your squirt/cum….yeah).
🏷️ tags . . . @bewitched-pearl @mimipeeeeepee @pancakes21 @bbatzvil @diouna @mariistic @mojo-is-rising @420slvtt @thebaddestbitcheva @thatredheadloserlesbian @livcdc @akiautumnn @jazfartz2 @cherrybomb61 ➥ if you wanna join comment on this post !!
Eren;
It was while you played in the ocean. You were messing around with Sasha when a piece of seaweed touched your foot. Having never seen seaweed before, you panicked and threw yourself at the nearest person for safety - that person was Eren Jeager. Taken aback by the sudden weight, he fell into the ocean, you along with him. You apologised profusely while helping him out of the water, but he just stood there. You watched him carefully as he moved the hair out his face. You worried that you might have hurt him during the fall, so you asked if he were alright. Again, you were met with silence. You looked back at the others for support, but were cut off by Eren laughing. He let out the most genuine belly-laugh you had ever heard. He was smiling like an idiot, keeling over as he clutched his stomach. Your heart squeezed, as did the others. Eren hadn't laughed, nor smiled, in months. You soon giggled along with him. You even held onto his arm for support. Once he'd calmed down, he looked at you, from your eyes to your lips. He uttered a small "thank you," before pulling you into a deep hug.
Mikasa;
It was just a normal day. You had been doing your chores around the garrison and were now eating your fill, along side Connie and Sasha, in the mess hall. The two you were sat with were, once again, arguing over food. They bickered like children, throwing food and hurling insults at one another. You laughed at them, dodging the occasional piece of bread that came flying your way. Mikasa was stood at the door, staring at you in awe. The way the sun fell over your hair and framed you face was like something out of a renaissance paining. She admired your every crevice. From the way your nose curved to the shape of your lips as you smiled. She saw how your uniform draped over your shoulders as they bounced while you laughed. She was stood far away but could still see your eyes as the shone in the light. As far as she could tell, you were glowing. You were radiating serenity - the kind she'd been looking for her whole life. She'd never seen you in this light before, it caught her off guard. The more she watched on the darker her blush got.
Armin;
He'd liked you since you were kids but fell head over heals for you when you saved him from a titan. He had been assigned a separate group from you during a mission beyond the walls and you were leading a rescue squad to his distress signal. You found him being cornered into a tree by two small titans. He was waving his swords at them helplessly, begging for them to not eat him. You made quick work of the two titans, cutting them both down in the same motion. He watched you wipe off your blades as you asked if he was alright. He was so thankful you'd saved him, he started babbling on about him repaying you. You shushed him and told him that if he were to make it out alive, that would be payment enough. He knew then he'd marry you.
Marco;
When you were injured while on a mission beyond the walls. He'd never felt so strongly for someone before. He sat with you on the ride back into the walls, the whole time he was gawking at your injuries. He held onto your hand tightly while he cried into his sleeve. Jean, who was riding a horse next to the cart the two of you were in, asked why he was so upset, you'd survived hadn't you? Marco just shrugged, unsure how to answer, but the aching in his heart answered for him. He stared at Jean, a broken expression on his face. Jean knew, just from that look, that Marco loved you.
Jean;
On a day off you'd gone to the market place. There was a band playing in the square. Some people were drinking and laughing, others were just passing through. There was a group of people dancing to the music. You and Jean watched on in awe. You were mesmerised by the way the women's dresses flowed as they danced and Jean watch as the men moved freely as they sways their partners around. While you watched on, someone pulled you in. You were a little shocked, but took to it straight away and started dancing with the others. Jean eyes gazed over your dancing figure. You were beautiful. Truly beautiful. He was so entranced by you he hadn't notice you nearing him. You stood in front of him and gave him a mischievous smile. He cocked a brow at your expression, but before he could ask you pulled him into the circle. His hand naturally glided to your waist and yours to his shoulder, your bodies held close. The two of you swayed together in rhythm with the music. His chest tightened as he stared at your smile. There was no doubt in his mind, he loved you.
Connie;
You'd both been drinking. While it wasn't illegal to drink at your age, but it wasn't smart. You both knew you had training in the morning but you drank anyways. Connie had convinced you, or vice versa, at this point you couldn't remember. Neither of you were light-weights but between you, you'd had gone through nearly a barrel of ale. You didn't feel as drunk as you were but still you ended up throwing up really badly. Maybe it was the fact that this was your first time drinking in months or the fact you and the ale tasted like shit, either way, you were hacking up as much as your body would let you. Connie panicked a little, you were both in no fit state and it was hard too see in the dark, but you were his first priority. He comforted you, moving any hair out of the way as you threw up. After a while, you'd appeared to have finished, or at least calmed down. The two of you slumped down against a tree. You tried to say sorry but the soreness of your throat wouldn't let you. He shushed you, pulling your head against his shoulder. He told you to rest, he explained that he'd take responsibility for the two of you being late in the morning. While you rested, he could hear you softly snoring to yourself, a sting of dribble hanging from your mouth. He thought you were so cute. And even though you were in a vulnerable position, you trusted him to take care of you and that meant the whole world to him.
Sasha;
You'd gone hunting with her and finally managed to kill the boar you'd wanted to for weeks. In celebration, you flung your arms around her nuzzling your face into her neck as you squealed with joy. She felt so warm and fuzzy, she hadn't felt that way before. It was new, refreshing even; like a breath of fresh air. She held you there, close to her chest, for a few moments more before she began jumping for joy with you. On the way back to camp, you both gushed over what dish you were going to cook with all the meat you now had.
Levi;
You left him a note one day when you were sent on a mission. It read: while I am gone, remember to stay healthy. Asshole. Notes were your thing, but for some reason this one made Levi's heart skip a beat, a rare smile found it way across his cheeks.He replied to the note in his head: as long as you promise to come back to me, dumbass. He wouldn't admit it aloud but he was giddy with excitement waiting for you to return.
Hange;
You brought them a Titan back from one of your missions. It was one that they'd had a hard time capturing, an abnormal beyond the walls that Hange desperately wanted to study; they'd already named it Alexander. When they realised you'd risked your life to help their studies and free humanity, they knew you meant more to them than they could fathom.
Erwin;
You'd been gone for nearly a month. Your convoy had been spilt up from the main unit and everything had gone horrible wrong. You were outside the walls for 3 and a half weeks before you found your way back. You and one other in your unit had survived, out of the 28 that been split. When he saw your face he nearly fainted. Your whole unit had been presumed dead, the probability of your survival was less than 0.067%. You and your other comrade were malnourished and dehydrated, they had lost an arm in the carnage. You only survived because of the sacrifices made by the other members of your unit, who'd unknowing donated their gas and gear through their deaths. No one could believe it, you both became legends, both being awarded medals for your bravery. It wasn't like Erwin to loose his composer but you seemed like an angel in that moment, as you were brought to the safety of the walls. He stared through you, like you weren't real, his legs moving on their own as he stumbled to you, slumping his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace he swore he'd never release.
Reiner;
You followed him. After he betrayed everyone and left with Bertholdt and Ymir. You followed him on your own volition. He was at a loss for words, he betrayed you, as if he'd murdered your friends and family with his own hands. Still you were soft with him, asking if he was okay, telling him you'd be fine no matter what happened, you'd stay with him. You knew he didn't want to do the things he was forced to do, and you were willing to hear him out. He just listen to you talk, slack-jawed, that someone as kind as you had come into his life to guide him down the right path. He was in awe of you and he knew he'd do whatever it takes to keep you safe in Marley.
Bertholdt;
You knew his secret and confronted him about it. You told him after everything you still loved him and that if he needed saving you'd be right there to do it. They were the words he'd wanted to hear his whole life and he was so happy they'd come from you. He sought comfort in you from then on and invited you to talk with Reiner about going back with them.
Annie;
It was while she was in her crystal, you had visited her any chance you got, explaining the situation to her. You'd known she was the female titan before her reveal, and you confessed that too her crystal. You cried as you explained that you wish you could have stopped her, or at least found a way to help her. You been talking to Reiner about it all, as you figured out their secret to. He'd agreed to take you to Liberio with them, as long as you pledged allegiance to Marley. They were empty words, but you did so anyways, and conjured up a plan to rescue her.
Porco;
He'd known for a while that he liked you but being the stubborn ass he is, he denied and denied his feelings until it was you who confessed to him. He had convinced himself that relations like that were pointless, given his limited lifespan. During your confession, you mentioned that even though he didn't have long to live you were happy with any amount of time with him because your forever could be even better than nothing at all. He was at a loss for words, in disbelief that you'd be willing to go through that for him.
Pieck;
She'd liked you for years, but never really found the time to talk about it with you because she'd been deployed to Paradis. The most casual confession known to man. You were sure she hadn't realised what she'd said. She'd finished reading a book she'd recommended a millennium ago and were talking to her over how the characters had fallen for one another. She simply replied with "yeah, I think he fell for her the same way I fell for you, Y/N". You eyed her cautiously, she wasn't even looking at you, she was just sorting through her papers. A gargled string of flustered sounds made it way out of you mouth in response, unable to form a real sentence. Finally she looked up from her work, smiling at you knowing, she had no doubts that you liked her back so she felt no need to tip-toe around the subject.
Zeke;
He knew when you were walking along the docs with him. He was having a smoke, basking in the sunset, it was the calmest he'd felt in months. Looking to you, he saw that you were messing around with a piece of seaweed that had found its way to the waters surface. He saw how you absentmindedly played with it, it brought him peace that you could still find joy in the little things, despite what you had witnessed. Seeing you lit by the setting sun, finding solace in his company was enough to solidify the rising emotions in his heart.
-Eren loves with reckless intensity. He'd fight the world for you - literally. He doesn't half-love; If hes in, he's all in. He's the type to grab your hand mid-argument, look you dead in the eyes, and say, "I don't care what happens - I'm not letting go of you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
mikasa
-She's quiet about her feelings, but when she loves, she shows it through unwavering actions. She folds your clothes, she keeps an eye on you when you're sick, and she notices everything - even if she never says it aloud. Her love is subtle but unshakable.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
armin
-Armin is soft and deeply thoughtful. He'll write you little notes, brush your hair behind your ear, and talk with you about stars, morality, and dreams. He sees the world through romantic, tragic eyes - and that includes the way he looks at you.
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connie
Connie's the kind of guy who makes love fun. He'1l take you on goofy dates, make you laugh until you can't breathe, and hold you like you're the only thing that grounds him. He might not be poetic, but he's all heart.
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jean
Jean puts up a cocky front, but once he's in love, he becomes a walking pile of feelings. He'll make you playlists, draw you absent-mindedly in his sketchbook, and lean into forehead kisses and lingering hugs. His love is warm, awkward, real.
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sasha
Sasha's love is loud and joyful. She'll bring you food she made just for you, light up when she sees you, and kiss you like it's the first and last time. She's affectionate, silly, and makes you feel like you're home.
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reiner
Reiner loves like he's scared to lose you. His affection is quiet but deep protective arms, soft kisses on your forehead and watching you sleep like it's the only peace he's ever known. He feels everything too much - and that includes love.
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levi
-Levi doesn't do grand gestures. Instead, he'll notice when you're cold and silently drape his jacket over you. He '11 clean your space without saying a word.
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erwin
Erwin is a classic romantic. He believes in meaningful love - deep, intellectual connections. Long conversations over wine, holding your hand as you walk through the city. He loves with loyalty, but also tragedy - always fearing he doesn't deserve it.
Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈
wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW
"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."
Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”
Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”
You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”
She shrugs. “It’s easier.”
Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”
You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”
Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”
Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”
You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”
Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”
You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”
Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”
Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”
You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”
Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”
Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”
You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”
Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”
Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”
You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”
—
The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.
And then, you spot Levi.
He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.
You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.
“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.
Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”
You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”
There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.
Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.
“…You woke up just to ask me that?”
You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”
Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”
You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”
He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.
“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”
You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”
Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”
You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”
“Tch. Of course she did.”
You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”
Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”
You grin. “It’s a talent.”
Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”
You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.
And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.
You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.
Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.
And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.
With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.
When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.
Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”
You smirk. “Straight.”
Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”
You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”
Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”
You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”
Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”
You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”
Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”
Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”
You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.
It’s true.
The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.
And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.
You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.
“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”
Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”
Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”
You snort. “Noted.”
As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.
Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.
Levi Ackerman.
Your Captain. Your superior.
The strongest soldier alive.
And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.
—
The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.
You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.
Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.
“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”
You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”
“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”
Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”
You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.
But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.
Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.
Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.
You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.
But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.
It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.
Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.
You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.
Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.
The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.
Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.
Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.
She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”
You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”
Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”
You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.
—
The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.
You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.
Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.
You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.
And then there’s Levi.
His presence alone changes the air.
He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.
Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.
And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.
You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.
“Your form’s getting sloppy.”
You turn sharply.
Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.
You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”
Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”
You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”
Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”
Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.
“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”
Your jaw tightens slightly.
You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.
And that bothers you more than anything.
You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”
Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.
You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.
And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.
And that’s enough to push you harder.
—
It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.
“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”
Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”
Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”
You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”
Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”
You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”
Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”
You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.
Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”
“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”
Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.
Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”
You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”
Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”
Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.
Because, honestly?
You kind of do want to see if he notices.
—
“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.
Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”
Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”
You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”
“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”
Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”
You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”
Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”
Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”
You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”
Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”
Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”
You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”
Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”
As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”
You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”
Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.
You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.
Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.
Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”
You smirk. “Told you.”
She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”
You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”
Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”
Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”
You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”
She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.
Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.
It’s just Jean’s birthday.
And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.
—
The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.
The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.
You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”
Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”
Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”
Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.
And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.
A shift.
The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.
Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.
It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.
Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”
You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.
He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.
And then—his gaze lands on you.
It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.
His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.
You hold your breath.
And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.
His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.
You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.
“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”
You press your lips together, considering.
“…He paused.”
Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”
Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”
Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.
You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was everything.
But either way—he paused.
And that was more than enough.
—
The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.
Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.
You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”
Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”
You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.
Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.
But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.
He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.
You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.
It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.
Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.
Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”
You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”
“It wasn’t anything.”
Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”
Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”
You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.
Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.
And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.
Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.
Until—
“You’re drinking too fast.”
The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.
Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.
Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”
Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.
You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.
Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”
Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.
The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”
Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”
You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”
Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”
That gives you pause.
You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.
And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.
You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”
Sasha smirks. “Are we?”
You don’t answer.
You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.
—
The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.
The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.
And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.
You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.
You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.
But then—
His hold tightens.
Subtly, but noticeably.
His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.
Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.
A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.
You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”
The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”
Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.
Your smile tightens. “I should really—”
And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.
A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.
The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.
“Let her go.”
Your breath catches.
Slowly, you turn your head.
Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.
And you do.
The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.
He makes the wrong choice.
“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”
A sharp, quiet pause.
Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.
“I wasn’t asking.”
The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.
Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.
With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”
You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.
Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”
The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.
The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.
You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.
His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”
You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”
Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”
You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—
“I know.”
It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.
You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.
Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”
You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.
Something like relief.
And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.
—
“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”
Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.
But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.
You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”
Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.
But then—
A hand.
Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.
Your breath catches in your throat.
It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.
And then—he moves.
Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.
For a second, you forget everything else.
The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.
His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.
And yet, here he is, following through.
You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”
Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”
You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.
The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.
And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:
Levi definitely noticed your hair.
The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.
His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.
And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.
Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.
Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.
You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.
You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”
Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”
“You’re dancing right now.”
“Tch. You call this dancing?”
You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”
Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.
Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.
It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.
He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.
“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.
You smile. “And yet, here you are.”
Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.
Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.
The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.
And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.
You’re testing him.
Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.
If he will choose to let himself stay.
Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”
A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.
Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.
He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.
The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.
Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.
You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.
He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.
“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.
You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.
And for the first time tonight, you realize—
You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.
Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.
—
You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"
You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.
Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.
His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”
Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”
Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”
Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”
Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.
You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”
“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”
Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”
A pause.
Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.
Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”
You don’t waste a second.
—
The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.
And then—you see him.
Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.
There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.
Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.
But you don’t care about the drunk.
You care about him.
You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.
“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”
For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.
Then, at last, he turns.
The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.
He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”
You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”
Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”
You shake your head. “I came on my own.”
At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.
Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.
The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then—
“You’re shaking.”
It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.
You blink. “What?”
Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.
You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—
Levi moves first.
His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.
Your breath catches.
It lasts only a second.
Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.
You swallow, staring at him.
“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.
Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.
“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.
Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.
