It’s another long day of scouting beyond the Walls. The air is thick with tension, and the group moves through the forest with practiced precision. Levi keeps a steady pace at the front, his eyes scanning every movement, every sound. He’s focused, as always—too focused, perhaps.

But then he hears it. A soft gasp followed by the sound of blades slicing through the air. He whips his head around just in time to see you, a few meters behind him, narrowly dodging a Titan’s swipe. His heart skips. It’s fleeting, just a split second of panic before you’re back on your feet, slashing at the creature with your usual fluidity and precision.

You’re fine. You’re always fine. But Levi can’t shake the image of you in that moment, looking effortlessly determined, your face set in that focused expression. He feels a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He’s used to protecting his comrades, but this feels different. His breath hitches as his gaze lingers just a moment too long before he shakes himself back to reality.

The battle is over quickly, but that sensation doesn’t fade. When the group regroups at camp later that night, Levi finds himself watching you more than usual, noticing the way you smile faintly when you think no one’s looking, how you make sure everyone is accounted for before you sit down to eat. It’s not just your skill that draws him in, it’s the quiet way you care, the warmth you hide beneath your tough exterior.

Levi shifts uncomfortably, his thoughts racing. What the hell is this? He turns away, but the image of your eyes meeting his just for a second lingers in his mind.

No. He grips his cup tighter, trying to focus on something—anything—but you.