A/N: HELLO. it is wonderful to meet you, and welcome to pincushion! throws confetti, etc. this is a series of somewhat-related drabbles, with some being tied in to others and some being entirely unrelated. some will take place in "canon", some will be alternate canon! who knows, maybe i'll throw in AU stuff sometime!? THE WORLD IS A CANVAS. anyway, thank you for reading, and do enjoy your stay!

"Do you mind?"

"Mind what, Ackerman?"

They were alone, first and foremost. The captain's chambers were an empty echo of space and fine furniture with all the good soldiers off patrolling, or asleep in their own beds. It was not unusual for Mikasa to be here anymore, nor was it unusual for her gaze to remain ever bitter, steely, and guarded. He had been demanding her presence in his quarters for enough time, after all.

Still, though, how he did wish she would relax. Her tenseness always tempted to give him a migraine.

"I… I…"

"Spit it out."

Strangely, Mikasa was looking at the floor with her shoulders tight, and it seemed to take silent effort on her part to return her gaze to his. He felt the look of surprise on his face as he saw for one of the first times, something that looked suspiciously like... vulnerability.

"I would like to be held." The words came out quietly and quickly, but with a control she was always capable of keeping in her voice. He wasn't sure he had just heard her correctly. She added, explaining, "I am tired." And with that, god, she looked it - the candlelight was pitiful, but after she said it, he saw fatigue in all of her stance.

For a few seconds, the captain forgot to reply, for he was simply too engrossed in staring at his underling and absorbing what he just heard and seen. And then, slowly, as he saw her gaze slide back downward and her jaw set in defiance and redness fill her cheeks, he felt his eyes narrow and turn wry and his lips curl upwards into a smirk.

Ah, how he simply could not resist toying with little miss red scarf…

"What was that, Ackerman? I'm not quite sure I heard you correctly. You'll have to speak up, you see, it's late and I am terribly exhausted."

Her fists visibly clenched, and for a moment, he regretted his words, worried that his taunt would drive her into withdrawing her statement and preventing him from such a rare pleasure. But Mikasa's head snapped up, her expression burning and renewed, and Levi knew not to doubt her ever again.

"I said, sir," she stressed the last word. "I would like to be held, for I am extremely tired."

They stood there, having the staring contest of the century, until Levi walked to her, hands folded behind his back. He leaned in, right past her face, and spoke quietly next to her ear so she shivered, "Request accepted… Mikasa."

As his arms wrapped around his prize, bringing her in close, caging her to him, he felt the heat from her cheeks straight through his cotton shirt.

Mikasa melted into his arms, and he easily took her weight. She was too tongue-tied for words, too embarrassed to say anything more. He supposed he should take the opportunity.

"Good girl," he mumbled, half-smiling into her hair where she could not see. "Ask me for things more often."