Don't Write Me Notes || Levi x Reader

6. it doesn't count if it's a thank you

"Too long," you say, and he nods. "Dancing in this would be a nightmare."

"You already have a hard enough time not tripping over your own feet."

You frown. "I'm not that bad," you insist. "We only started practicing this morning."

His eyebrows rise. "You want more practice?"

"When I've found my dress, probably. Just to make sure it's dance-proof."

"Dance-proof."

You shrug. "Isn't long enough to be stepped on, comfortable to dance in, not see-through, won't slip and expose me at any point. Standard stuff."

"Standard," Levi agrees as you vanish back behind the curtain.

The next one nearly makes him laugh. It almost looks like the dress is inflatable, like someone took an air mattress and turned into a dress. "At least I'd be comfy?" you suggest weakly.

"Inflate that with helium and you'd float away."

"Have some relatives you'd like to try that on?"

"Obviously."

You head back into the changing room and he goes back to his phone. His mother's texted him- something about when he'll be home. He ignores her for now- he'll tell her once he's gotten a better grasp for how long this is going to take- and he swipes to the texts from Hange. All nonsensical, nothing worth responding to.

He's lost in his phone, skimming through Hange's texts, when he hears, "oh, dear god."

His lips twitch without meaning to as he closes his phone and tucks it away. "How bad?" he asks.

"What's the scale?"

"Scale from nun to prostitute."

"Nearing prostitute. Well- maybe not quite, but almost there."

He's curious now. No, shit- don't be curious. Wait, they wouldn't really carry anything that skimpy here, right? This store has top-end shit. "It's not that bad," Levi dismisses.

"I'll prove you wrong."

You exit the changeroom, and Levi's mouth goes dry.

You're wearing red again, which is already a perfect color on you, but the cut of the dress- fucking hell, Levi feels like all his blood is rushing south. It's strapless and it makes your chest pop, and it's tight around your hips and thighs. He can see every curve, every dip, and it's making him damn dizzy. It's full and nearly brushes the floor, but that's fine with him, because if that dress had a slit up the leg he'd be done for.

"This is way too much," you say, plucking at the fabric and spinning in a circle so that Levi gets a perfect view of how well the dress hugs your ass. "God, if my mother saw me in this, she'd have an aneurysm."

You seem oblivious to his suffering, especially as you bend down slightly and Levi gets a full view of your cleavage. He looks away as fast as he can, which doesn't feel very fast. "You- Christ, Ang," he mutters.

You laugh. It's a nice sound; he doesn't think he's heard it from you before. "Ang?" you tease, grinning at him. "A nickname for the nickname?"

You've told him your origin for your nickname; he'd rather not. "If you're fine with it," he says, trying to keep his eyes on yours and not on your ass.

"I like it," you admit, turning back to the mirror. Levi's gaze drops to your ass and he blatantly stares for at least a full second before he manages to rip his eyes away. "It's really that bad," you say, spinning again. "Is it? I think it's sexy."