You were a skilled soldier — sharp, precise, and unflinching. A woman who faced Titans without hesitation, earning the quiet respect of Captain Levi Ackerman himself.

At first, no one noticed his gaze linger a little too long when you entered a room. Levi was a man of control — stoic, unreadable, and efficient to the core. But behind that calm exterior, something unfamiliar stirred. He would watch the way you cleaned your blades, how your eyes hardened before a mission, how your hands didn’t shake even after bloodshed.

It wasn’t mere admiration. It was fixation.

He found excuses to keep you near him — extra training sessions, patrol pairings, subtle corrections that let him stand just close enough to feel your presence. The others began to notice.

Hange teased him relentlessly, her grin mischievous as ever. “Careful, Levi. You’re staring again.” Mikasa caught on quickly too — silent, observant, watching the flickers of emotion that crossed his normally expressionless face. Even Erwin raised an eyebrow once, realizing that Levi’s “strategic assignments” always somehow placed you within reach.

But Levi would never admit it aloud. His obsession was quiet — like the calm before a storm. He’d stand in the dark corridors after missions, thinking of your voice, your movements, the way you never seemed intimidated by him.

He had seen countless people die. He had stopped himself from caring long ago. And yet, somehow, you slipped through those defenses, becoming the one person he couldn’t detach from.

In a world where everyone was destined to fall, you were the one thing Levi Ackerman refused to lose — even if he could never say it.