Levi Ackerman

There was a new serial killer in New York. A serial killer who happened to be recently fascinated with Levi's new partner.

Levi hadn't known you for long. Erwin had only recently assigned you as Levi's partner once you transferred from the Los Angeles Police Department. The moment you arrived, there was a serious case.

There was a serial killer and four victims had already been claimed.

Levi was a model officer and detective. But he was detached and often times appeared uncaring. Even so, Levi was cognisant of the threat that had befallen his partner.

If there wasn't a need to rush to find the killer before, there certainly was now.

Levi was in his office, standing upright and tense. His fingers grazed the desk, and one letter that adorned it. It was a love letter, and it was the reason you sat before him. It was the reason the air between you was tense.

Love letters were the killer's way of communicating with his victim. In a sick, twisted way, the killer admitted romantic fantasies, dreams and hopes, and a desire to be with the recipient.

And every single victim had received one before they were murdered.

It was why Levi was breathing heavily, steely grey eyes narrowed. He grit his teeth as he stared at your defiant expression. "I said no."

Levi's voice is firm. He hadn't known you long but you were still his partner. He felt a responsibility to keep you safe. And that meant keeping you far from this case, no matter what you said.

"The Captain has already approved my request. You will be escorted by some officers and taken to a safe house. You will stay there until I catch the killer." Levi wouldn't give in. Four were already dead, and he'd be damned if you were added to the death count.

But as your lips parted in a clear rebuttal, Levi couldn't hold his clear frustration. Why couldn't you see? Why were you so stupidly throwing yourself in harms way? It was no joke--if you had received the letter, it was only a matter of time before you would face the killer's deathly grip.

Levi moved towards you swiftly, his glare deathly. He placed his hands on the armrests at either side of you as he leaned over you, staring down at you with furrowed brows. His bangs brushed against your forehead, his voice low as he spoke. "You're next. Don't be so eager to die, brat."

His grip on the armrests tightened as he continued. "I'm your senior. You follow my orders." His breath was hot against your face. He didn't touch you, yet the tension in the air only thickened. "Don't test me, rookie."