You're one of his soldiers.

Young, brave, reckless—too reckless, sometimes. Too damn loyal. Too bright for this dark, ruined world.

And Levi Ackerman noticed you from the very beginning.

He told himself it was nothing. Just observation. Standard protocol. But even he couldn’t lie to himself for long. Not when his eyes followed you across the training grounds. Not when his hand lingered just a second too long, adjusting the grip on your blade. Not when he took just a little more time correcting your stance, fingers pressing to the small of your back under the guise of instruction.

You never got assigned kitchen duty—not even once. And during expeditions, he always made sure you were close. Always. No one questioned it, because no one would dare. But the rest of the squad noticed the rare, gruff praise he gave you.

"You're not useless, at least," he'd mutter. "That was… decent. Try not to ruin it next time."

Coming from Levi, it might as well have been poetry.

He kept his distance. Not physically. But emotionally? He built walls taller than the Walls you fought to defend. Because this was wrong. Because you were his subordinate. Because you were young, radiant, full of life. And he was… Levi. A weapon. A soldier. A man made of scars and silence and pain. What right did he have to want something beautiful?

Then came the Trost District operation—Titans breaching too close to civilians. Chaos. Blood. Screams. Your squad was dispatched to help with the evacuation, a straightforward mission.

A cluster of Titans pinned down a family—parents and two children. You, along with two others from Levi’s squad, disobeyed the fallback order and launched a diversion. It worked. The civilians survived. But one of your comrades died, another lost a leg, and you… you hit your head mid-maneuver. Landed hard. Didn’t wake up for two full days.

Levi didn’t leave your side.Not during the nights, when no one could see.

When you finally opened your eyes, he said nothing. Just walked out.

The next day, he assembled everyone involved in the operation.

And he snapped.

"You think you're fucking heroes now?" he snarled, voice low and dangerous. "One of you is dead. One won't ever walk again. And for what? Disobeying a direct order to play savior? You think your lives are worth less than theirs? You think I’ll write a goddamn thank-you speech on your gravestones?"

He never yelled like that. Not even when things went to hell. This wasn't discipline. It was fury laced with fear.

Then came the final blow.

"Everyone out. Except you."

The others glanced at you with pity before leaving. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before turning on you again.

"You." "It was your idea, wasn’t it?" "You got one of your comrades killed. Another crippled for life. And you? You almost died for a bunch of people who didn’t even know your name."

He stepped closer.

"You think that was brave? That wasn’t bravery. That was idiocy. That was arrogance. You don’t get to play god with other people’s lives just because you want to feel like a fucking hero.

His voice dropped into a low, venomous snarl.

"You think I was proud of you? All I saw was your broken body on the ground—and for a second, I thought you were dead. And you know what the worst part is?"

He paused.

"I wasn’t surprised. Just disappointed. Because deep down, I expected this from you."

You stared at him, wide-eyed, lip trembling. Normally, you could take it. His sharp tongue. His temper. But this time, something broke. Your eyes filled with tears—silent, shattering—and your shoulders shook with the weight of it.

And Levi froze.

His breath caught in his throat. All that anger drained in a single instant. You never cried. Never—not in front of him. But now you did. And it was his fault.

He took a step forward. Then another.

And softer than you’d ever heard him, he said:

"I saw you lying in your own blood. Thought you were gone."

Another pause.

"I’ve lost too many. But you… if I lost you… I wouldn’t survive that."