#snk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucysarah1875 · 3 days ago

Text

Mounting Spring Ch. 12

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Warnings: Omegaverse, age gap, arrangemarriage. Ao3 link to the whole work.

“Did you hear the screaming?” A cadet whispered to Floch, voice barely above a breath, yet just enough to make Armin and Jean glance over.

Floch scoffed, arms crossed. “Who didn’t? Sounded pathetic.” Then, with a sneer, he added, “Did you catch the smell on her? Disgusting.”

“Are they talking about Y/N?” Sasha asked under her breath. Armin only shrugged, uncertain as a beta, but Jean gave a slight nod—so small it was almost imperceptible, careful not to draw attention.

“She needs to learn her place,” someone muttered through clenched teeth, the words laced with quiet resentment, as if the situation irked them more than it did Captain Levi himself. “If she were my omega, she wouldn’t even think of stepping out of line like that.”

The men murmured their agreement, though none dared to raise their voices. No matter how much they sneered at the Captain’s supposed weakness, none of them were stupid enough to let him hear.

Armin sighed, his exhaustion laced with quiet sympathy, while Sasha murmured uneasily, “So… they’re still fighting?” The tension had lingered in the air since their return from the capital.

Nearby, Levi stood, papers in hand, issuing orders as he scanned the lists before pointing ahead. Yet his focus wavered. His mind was elsewhere—everywhere except here.

“Sir.” A cadet approached briskly but without urgency, saluting politely. Levi gave a curt nod, granting permission to speak.

“We retrieved the supplies from your chambers as ordered, sir.”

Another nod.

“Uh…” The cadet hesitated, hands clasped behind his back, legs stiff in a formal stance. His voice wavered as he searched for the right words. “Your… wife.”

The last word came out uncertain, as if the young man sought confirmation.

“Yes,” Levi replied, clipped and impatient, unwilling to waste time on semantics.

“She insists that the pet be taken with her.”

“Yes.”

Silence settled over the group like a thick fog. Several scouts exchanged glances, some rolling their eyes. Even among those who had transferred into the Survey Corps from other divisions—many seasoned soldiers—doubt simmered beneath their obedience.

“Sir…” One of the older soldiers stepped forward, his voice calm but edged with unspoken challenge. “If I may speak freely?”

Levi didn’t grant permission. He simply stared, dead-eyed, daring the man to continue.

The soldier swallowed but pressed on. “The horses may not take well to the animal’s presence.”

More silence.

“And… she doesn’t know how to ride. This could slow us down.”

Levi remained silent, letting the words hang, waiting—because he knew the real reason behind this sudden concern. And sure enough, the soldier cracked under the weight of his stare.

“I’m only suggesting, sir, that if you need us to step in and handle the matter—”

“Are you implying I’m incapable of handling it myself?”

Levi’s tone was flat, unimpressed, yet laced with quiet danger. One hand rested on his hip while the other held up the clipboard, flipping through pages as if this was any other mundane conversation.

A flicker of unease spread among the men. They weren’t stupid. Levi knew better than anyone how quickly rumors spread about high-ranking officers. The moment he raised his voice, the moment he let this conversation turn into an argument, it would become fuel for the fire already burning around him.

He could already hear it. Every alpha who had come across her since their return had caught on to the scent. And Levi… Levi was in no mood for this nonsense. He hadn’t been for months.

His ego had taken a hit—whether he admitted it or not. And no matter how much restraint he practiced, he wasn’t about to let vultures circle, thinking they could pick at his pride like scraps.

“We’re only making a suggestion, sir,” the soldier tried again, this time more cautious.

Levi’s gaze sharpened.

“Limit yourself to doing what you’re told,” he bit out, each word precise and edged with resentment. His patience was already paper-thin, and after recent events, it had only frayed further.

He had explained it to her once—the night they first met. Being Humanity’s Strongest had its perks. One of them was that he couldn’t care less what people whispered behind his back. But another was that very few had the guts to say anything to his face.

That had been true—until now.

For the past two months, the whispers hadn’t stopped. His name, her name, their relationship—it had all become the military’s favorite new topic.

She’s still unclaimed.

She comes and goes as she pleases.

Her scent isn’t his.

It smells like someone else.

The rumors even reached the higher-ups. The military board had questioned whether he was being “demanding enough.” His own soldiers whispered that he was too weak to keep his own mate in line.

For a long time, he had considered himself her only ally in all this. Perhaps she didn’t see it that way.

And maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t have minded enduring the scrutiny, the judgment, if he felt they were working toward something together. If he believed they were striving for mutual understanding.

But now?

Now, his instincts were livid.

‘Walking up to me, stinking of that brat.’

His inner alpha snarled. The same part of him that had allowed her freedom, that let her choose what she wanted from the kitchen, that had tolerated her sitting beside him during training—because she had willingly smelled like him once.

That same part of him was now furious.

Brat. That was all the younger, lesser alpha was to him. Barely past adulthood, and yet still bold enough to challenge him for her.

And she let him.

She had asked for freedom. He had given it. And in return, she had betrayed it. And now, openly, she was challenging him.

His rational mind should have focused on his duties. But instincts didn’t listen to logic. His alpha was restless, pacing like a caged lion, ready to lash out.

Somewhere, the distant part of him—the one that still functioned as a human rather than a territorial beast—whispered that he needed to sit her down and talk. Rationally. Like adults.

But that voice was distant. Faint. Like an echo in a dream that held no weight, no power.

Maybe this was why. Maybe it was the years without a mate. The ruts that came and went without relief. The absence of an Omega in his life.

And now?

For his body, a potential mate in the peak of her youth had waltzed into his territory, an he had provided for her. He had made space for her. He had given her security.

She had shown signs of choosing him.

And then, another alpha—younger, weaker, insignificant—had walked in, pissed on his territory, and acted like he had a rightful claim.

‘You’re one lucky bastard I don’t have you within arm’s reach.’

Alpha monogamy was a curse to some, a blessing to others.

To Levi, at this moment, it was nothing but a slow-burning rage.

Inside Levi’s chambers, the air was thick—not with tension, but something heavier. Something that sank into the skin, clung to the bones.

Y/N sat on the window frame, perched like a defendant waiting for sentencing. Absentmindedly, she broke off a few crumbs of her bread, leaving them near the sparrow’s nest she had once drawn. The first bit of art she had created here. Now, it held three newborn pigeons, fragile and unaware of the world beyond their small sanctuary.

She watched the courtyard with a slow, detached melancholy. The sheer number of soldiers outside was surprising—only a few years ago, the Scouts had never been this many. Her gaze trailed to the office, where Levi’s door swung open and shut like a revolving door. Soldiers came and went, carrying boxes, blueprints, stacks of reports.

They moved freely.

She hated it.

Perhaps it was the way they carried themselves—so sure, so certain of what to take. Of what belonged to them. Perhaps it was the simple fact that they had a freedom she couldn’t even dream of.

A scoff escaped her lips, bitter and quiet. Her forehead pressed against the glass, its cool surface slightly uncomfortable, probably leaving an oily smudge that Levi would notice. That would probably irritate him.

But by the time he returned, this window—this entire room—would be nothing but a memory.

She let the thoughts settle, accepted them even as they cut deep. She had ignored every warning sign, every uneasy shift in the air. Maybe a wiser woman would have noticed it sooner.

A wiser woman—or a better wife?

Wives always knew, didn’t they? The old stories said so. They knew from a stain on a shirt, a change in scent, a hidden bank account.

Would a better woman—a better mate—have realized that Levi had been planning this all along?

What was I supposed to compare him to?

The Levi of the past two months was the only Levi she had ever known. There had been no “before” for her to measure against. No habits to track, no patterns to decipher.

If he changed his scent, how could she be sure it wasn’t just preference?

If he came home late, wasn’t that just his duty?

If he hid something, how would she even know where to look?

If Levi had a secret account somewhere, she wouldn’t even know the name of the bank.

But just then, she remembered her last fiancé. A smile tugged at her lips — not one of joy, but of bitter amusement, as if laughing at herself.

‘Maybe I really am as foolish and naive as everyone says.’

Even all of Levi’s wisdom, she thought, might never have led her to any different conclusion.

‘I never thought I’d miss this place.’

Not this place exactly. She had packed quickly, but most of her belongings had remained untouched since the day she arrived. Nothing here had ever truly belonged to her. It all felt borrowed, like slipping into her mother’s heels as a child—too big, too foreign, an illusion of something she was supposed to grow into. Usually kids forget that dream by the time they grow old enough to fill them.

Except this time her mother had long since sold those shoes, and the dream had been lost with them. The dream had vanished before she could outgrow it.

She wouldn’t miss these chambers. What she would miss was the fragile hope that one day, she might have fit into them.

And now, it was happening all over again.

The same suitcases. The same hairstyle. The same clothes. The same long journey to yet another unknown destination.

It was like reliving a nightmare she couldn’t outrun.

A small bag of essentials sat at the base of the window, packed and ready for the trip. She hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, curled in on herself, knees to her chest, fingers gripping the letters from her siblings.

‘I’m doing this for you.’

The words echoed in her mind, but the strength they were supposed to bring never came.

Then, the door swung open.

The shift in sound was subtle, but enough to pull her out of her thoughts. Slowly, she turned.

Levi stepped inside, appearing distracted as he moved toward his belongings, intent on putting away the last of them before their departure. When their eyes met, he opened his mouth—only to close it again. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression unreadable.

He hated this. Hated being met with teary eyes and resignation. Anger, he could handle. Defiance, frustration, even hatred—those were easier. But this? This quiet, lifeless acceptance?

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke.

“You done packing?”

His voice was steady—too steady. The forced calm surprised even him. Avoiding the conflict was either intentional or instinctive. Addressing it would require emotions he didn’t have the time—or the willingness—to offer.

Too angry to talk.

Too tired to pretend.

“Yes, sir.”

The words made him freeze.

For the first time in a long time, his body went completely still. A sharp, unbearable frustration clawed its way up his throat. For a moment, an absurd, childish urge consumed him—to throw himself on the floor, kick, scream, cry like a sleep-deprived toddler.

‘I wish I could just sit there, with watery eyes and expect the world to fix itself. But since I can’t—since I don’t—I'm the bad guy.

Fine. Whatever.’

“Alright,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”

Y/N slid off the windowsill, her feet meeting the ground. Levi moved around the room, checking everything—closing doors, locking windows, securing whatever was left behind.

She stood in the middle of the office, watching him move, just as she had on the very first night.

Curious eyes, like a kitten watching something it didn’t understand.

Back then, she had stood in this same spot, watching as he rushed around, setting things up. Now, she watched as he dismantled it all.

Hidden drawers she had never noticed before appeared as he pulled them open, retrieving money, keys, and even a gun. Small things, tucked away in places only he knew existed.

The only sound breaking the quiet was the restless scratching of her cat in its carrier, desperate to be freed.

Levi slung his pack over his shoulder, shutting the last of the windows. As the room fell into darkness, the finality of it settled deep in her chest.

This was it.

She bent down to grab her bag—but before her fingers could close around the strap, Levi’s hand shot out, gripping it first.

“Give me that,” he said, hoisting up both her luggage and the pet carrier without waiting for an answer.

She hesitated before moving toward the door, glancing back to see if he was following. He was—only pausing briefly to shut off the master valve in the bathroom.

With a final patting at his pocket for the keys, he stepped out into the corridor and locked the door behind them.

She stood there, waiting.

It was an odd, familiar feeling. The uncertainty of standing in a hallway, waiting for someone to tell her where they were going.

‘Like a pet.’

One that would develop an inexplicable fear of luggage.

‘Or more like a dog,’ she corrected bitterly. ‘One whose only trick is to wait and follow.’

As they moved through the halls, soldiers instinctively moved aside, pressing themselves flat against the walls as Levi passed. Some carried heavy crates, others stacks of paperwork, but the entire facility buzzed with urgency.

Outside, the courtyard—once a training ground—had transformed into something else entirely. Carts. Horses. Boxes upon boxes of supplies waiting to be loaded. It was chaos. A military carnival.

“Wait here,” Levi instructed before disappearing into the crowd.

‘See? I just need a leash.’

The thought was sharp and cruel, cutting through her remaining pride like a dull blade.

She watched the organized disorder unfold around her. Soldiers had direction, purpose. Even the ones running back and forth with last-minute additions knew where they were going.

She did not.

She was just standing there. Again. Watching life happen around her, but never to her.

The comparison shifted from a cruel coincidence to an outright insult to her sanity. Levi had left—probably to retrieve the horses—and she was still here.

Just there.

It felt eerily familiar. Like standing on the chapel porch that day—only there was no chapel this time. No empty streets of a forgotten town. No rain.

Instead, the world had been replaced with this—a bustling military facility, an endless sea of strangers, the scorching heat of early summer or late spring (whichever name you preferred).

And this time, there was no blissful ignorance to shield her.

This time, she knew.

She knew that Levi would not—could not—suddenly pull a pretty house out of nowhere. That there was no hidden well of romance waiting to spill from him. That any unconfessed devotion was likely never there to begin with.

At least… that’s what she told herself.

A sharp voice cut through her thoughts.

“Wait—I’ll do it, just—UGH.”

A soldier dropped a box near a cart before rushing off to help someone else.

For a brief moment, Y/N’s eyes flickered with purpose. She glanced at the small package, then at her own luggage. Levi’s luggage.

“I can do that.”

The thought came easily, naturally. It wasn’t as if their belongings were unbearably heavy.

So she moved, loading what she could onto the wagon.

The small box was the last thing left. She reached for it—

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

The scream tore through the air. The shock snapped her out of her daze, and she looked around frantically for the source, nearly dropping the box in her hands. But the moment she realized the scream had been directed at her, she caught herself—tightening her grip just in time to keep it from falling. The soldier, startled, had instinctively reached out in fear, but now ran his hands through his hair, as if trying to comb away the surge of adrenaline.

“Don’t touch that!” he barked, nearly stumbling over himself as he rushed forward. “Those are—”

He snatched the box from her hands with practiced urgency, holding it as if it might bite.

“Thunder Spear munitions,” he hissed, setting it down with exaggerated care. “They’re primed and unstable—one drop and we’re all just a stain on the dirt, you get that?”

Y/N froze, hands mid-air, as if still holding the weight that was already gone. Her breath caught in her throat, and heat rushed to her cheeks—not from shame, but from something sharper, smaller, meaner. Like being scolded in front of a classroom full of strangers.

“I… I was just trying to help,” she said softly, but the words felt like paper in a storm. Insufficient. Drowned out.

The soldier scoffed, checking the box for damage with exaggerated flair.

“Yeah? Try helping by not getting us killed next time.”

“I didn’t know—”

“Clearly,” the soldier snapped. He glanced around with a sneer. “Where the hell is the Captain, anyway? Or is Levi just letting you wander around today?”

That one hit lower than the rest. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. The need to defend herself tangled with the guilt crawling up her spine. Searching for Levi around, as if she was a toddler painting someone’s wall.

Footsteps behind her. Heavy. Sharp.

The soldier noticed before she did. His spine straightened. His mouth snapped shut.

Levi’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Who the fuck are you talking to like that?”

He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Despite the height difference, the other soldier averted his gaze and bowed his head in submission.

“I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry—sir, she—”

“She?” Levi snapped. “Who the hell leaves artillery unguarded in this fucking mess? That’s your job.”

His voice sliced through the tension, putting the soldier in check. The few onlookers who’d dared to glance over quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. No one wanted to be next.

“It won’t happen again, sir. I reacted badly, sir. It got the best of me—”

‘Sir,’ she added silently, noticing how the word clung to the man’s mouth like a nervous tic. She stayed quiet behind her husband, watching him take control. Even though the soldier was the one being scolded, the guilt still pressed heavy on her chest.

“I’ll get the best of me if I ever catch you talking to her like that again — you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

As if multitasking was a reflex, Levi’s eyes caught something near the cart to their left. In one swift motion, he moved over and snatched up the item she had mistakenly loaded. The way he grabbed it — firm, frustrated, controlled — made it clear: he didn’t want the other soldier to have the satisfaction of seeing her get reprimanded.

“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to follow it,” he muttered as she hurried to keep pace with him across the field.

“That wasn’t our cart. It’s this one.”

He tossed the belonging into the correct wagon.

“Get in. You’re riding here too.”

“I’m not riding?” she blinked, confused. From what she understood, the carts were meant to travel behind the formation — slower, delayed. For a second, panic surged through her. Was he really leaving her behind to ride with strangers and supplies?

“You don’t know how to drive it, and I’m not testing your endurance under the summer sun for hours,” Levi said flatly, doing something far too ordinary for his rank as he adjusted the loaded goods.

“You’re going with the groceries,” he added with a faint huff of air as he secured the final piece.

“I’m… not going with you?”

The fear in her voice made him freeze mid-motion. He looked back and frowned.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said bluntly, as if the answer should’ve been obvious.

She tensed, ready to protest — Alone? With them? Her heart began to race. She knew he was still angry, but—

“Of course you’re coming with me,” he added, as though any other possibility was absurd.

‘Maybe if your face gave anything away, I’d have known that,’ she thought, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She climbed into the cart, still unsettled. The wood creaked under her as she sat, eyes narrowed toward Levi as he adjusted a strap near the front.

"You said the carts were leaving later," she said, testing the water.

“They are,” he replied without looking up.

“But we’re taking some now?”

“Obviously.”

"Then why are we leaving now?"

He didn’t look at her. "Some go early."

"Some?"

"Necessities."

She blinked, trying to put the pieces together. "So... the rest catch up?"

He gave a nod. Not a word — just that small, stiff movement.

She glanced around at the bundled supplies, the sacks, the wrapped crates. “How far are we going?”

“Far.”

She paused, unsatisfied. "Far like... how far?"

Levi's jaw tensed. "Far enough."

“That’s not an answer,” she muttered. “If we need groceries, this isn’t just a patrol, is it?”

He stood and turned to her. “No.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then what is it?”

Silence.

“Levi.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” She folded her arms, lips pressing together. "You’re really committing to this one-word thing, huh?"

He exhaled through his nose, clearly deciding whether or not to humor her. “Maybe not a patrol.”

“You’re exhausting,” she grumbled. “So… how long?”

He looked at her. Really looked at her, dead eyes whispering ‘Drop it now,’. As he was far too busy for this almost toddler interrogatory.

“Three weeks.”

Her mouth parted. “Three—”

Her breath caught in her throat. Three weeks. On the road. She’d packed like they were going to camp out for a weekend, not half a month in motion.

Before she could respond, he tugged the last strap tight and stepped back from the cart.

“Wait at the cart.”

“What?”

He was already walking away, back straight, steps purposeful. She blinked. "Wait, like—wait until when?"

“I mean it. Stay here,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t move.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. He was already gone.

Reluctantly, she sank back into the cart. The curved arch of the roof offered more than just shelter for the food; it gave her a break from the blistering sun too.

“Shh, Clauwy. Behave,” she whispered, nudging the crate where the cat was kept. Sensing the sudden lull in motion, the feline let out a loud, annoyed meow and began rustling around in protest.

‘Three weeks?’ she thought, resting her head against the side of the cart. ‘We’re really going to the end of the world, aren’t we?’

"Knock knock."

The fake door knock made her peek out from behind a stack of crates.

Hange leaned casually over the edge of the cart, grinning. “Enjoying your suite? First class, huh?”

It coaxed a laugh from her, soft but genuine. “Commander.”

“Oh, please. It’s Hange,” they waved off with a dramatic roll of their eyes. “Here, scoot over. I brought you stuff.”

She half-crawled toward them — the roof too low to stand — and held out her cupped hands. Hange, still dressed in their full formal trench coat despite the sweltering heat, began unloading their pockets like a magician at a festival: chocolates, candies, gummies, tea bags — a strange but generous collection of comfort.

She blinked, surprised. “You brought all this… for me?”

“Of course. It’s going to be a long trip, and you’re going to need the calories,” Hange said matter-of-factly, still digging in their coat like a bottomless satchel.

A blush crept to her cheeks as she looked down at the pile of sweets in her hands. “Oh, um… I’m not expecting. Yet.”

Saying it aloud felt like pressing a finger to a bruise.

To her surprise, Hange burst into laughter — warm and unfiltered. “Please! Haha — of course you’re not! I do know how babies are made, you know.” They grinned. “And believe me, you'd be surprised how much Levi actually tells me.”

She flushed deeper. “But—why—?”

“Why am I bringing you snacks and tea like you’re already nesting?” Hange shrugged, smile softening. “Your body’s still adjusting — with the season change, the sudden travel, the stress. Hormones don’t wait for invitations. Eat a lot.”

They gave her a few affectionate pats on the arm and reached into the cart again. “Also brought you a pillow and some blankets. Once we’re past the walls, it might get cold at night.”

She moved aside to receive the bundle — the pillow softer than any military issue she’d touched, the blanket too gentle to be standard gear. “Thank you,” she murmured, touched. “You really didn’t have to—rearranging all this and—”

“Oh no,” Hange interrupted, waving their hand. “That wasn’t me! Levi’s the one who sorted the cart so you’d have space. The pillow and all that? Also from him. Most of those chocolates?” — they nodded to the pile in her lap — “He swiped them from the banquet at the Capital. I just saved them in my coat.”

They tapped the side of their nose playfully. “Don’t tell him I told you. He’s shyer than he looks.”

“Ah...” she didn’t blush this time — didn’t even smile at first. Just let her fingers brush the soft fabric of the blanket, her eyes drifting to the little wrapped chocolates. Most likely free offerings at one of the hangouts.

‘He really did all that?’

She exhaled a tiny, amused breath. “Alright,” she said softly, a smile blooming at the corner of her mouth. “I won’t.”

Hange leaned in closer, resting their arms on the cart’s edge so they were at eye level. Their grin faded slightly into something more sincere.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” she said quickly — too quickly — eager to help, or maybe just glad to be asked.

“Don’t disappear like that again, okay?”

And suddenly, it wasn’t a friendly favor anymore — it was a reckoning.

Her gaze dropped, fingers tightening around the edge of the pillow in her lap. Her spine straightened instinctively, posture stiffening the way it had back when authority meant punishment.

“Yes, Commander,” she said quietly, the words shaped by shame more than obedience.

Hange sighed. Not impatient — but as someone tired of watching two people tiptoe around their own hearts.

“That’s not what I meant,” they said, softer now but still steady. “I’m not giving you a demerit.”

Still, she couldn’t look at them. Not yet. She straightened a little, spine going stiff — as if she were standing at attention rather than sitting in a hay-lined cart. “It won’t happen again,” she said quickly, automatically. Her tone clipped, formal — the way a soldier would answer a reprimand.

But Hange didn’t smile. Not this time.

“You know…” they started, still casual in posture, but there was something in their voice — a line tightening. “Levi was very worried.”

Her gaze dropped. She didn’t say anything.

“I know why you left,” Hange continued. “And honestly? I don’t even blame you. It’s a lot. Everything’s a lot right now.” Their tone remained quiet, “But next time, let him know where you’re going, alright?”

She swallowed, her fingers fidgeting with a corner of the blanket.

“And I would appreciate,” Hange continued, with a pointed raise of their brows, “if you didn’t make my best soldier that stressed again.”

There was a pause. Just enough for her to feel the weight of it.

Then Hange softened — just a little. The teasing spark in their eye faded, replaced with something quieter. “He’s not just my subordinate, you know. He’s my friend.”

The words landed with surprising gentleness. “I don’t like seeing him like that.”

She looked up, startled by how sincere the words were.

Hange gave her a small shrug, as if trying to lighten the mood but not quite managing to push the emotion aside. “Levi’s not a bad man. He may be... emotionally constipated, sure. Grumpy as hell. But if you want something — and if it’s even remotely within his power — he’ll do it.”

They tilted their head, smirking faintly. “He’ll complain the whole time, because that’s who he is. But he’ll still do it.”

She couldn’t help the small smile that slipped through.

“He’s not that type of man,” Hange said firmly. “He’s not out to control you. Or trap you. Or make you smaller than you are.”

Her breath hitched at that last part. Something in her chest loosened — and hurt — all at once.

"Shorty would rather skip the two hours of sleep he gets to take you wherever you want to go and make sure you’re safe, than forbid you from doing something," Hange said. "So… next time, just ask him. Alright?"

Silence lingered for a moment between them, warm and heavy like the air before a summer storm.

“...Okay?” Hange added, as if not sure whether to break the weight of it or not.

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

��ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!” The brunette gave a few loud strong pats on the omega’s upper arms making her open her eyes open up in shock. “I’m glad we could set this straight! I leave you to settle in!”

Shaken slightly by the motion of the gesture, she chuckled to herself. Just for a second, it all felt a little less heavy — a tiny reprieve from the unresolved tension still pressing on her chest.

She waited. Longer than she expected. But eventually, the telltale sounds of horses shifting and soldiers mounting echoed through the camp. The Scouts were moving. Through the crowds, she began to pick out the figures of the Special Ops squad preparing to lead.

“Y/N!” Sasha’s voice startled her as the girl ran up to the cart, bright-eyed and already energetic. “Since you’ll be in the cart... share your snacks with me?” she asked with a hopeful grin.

“Don’t give her food,” Eren interrupted flatly, walking past with his hands in his pockets. “It’s a trap.”

The titan shifter barely looked interested but somehow still managed to side with the omega.

“No! Don’t listen to them, Y/N!” Sasha cried in protest.

“Did you bring the baby?” Mikasa leaned into the cart, scanning for signs of movement. Her face fell slightly when she saw no sign of the cat.

“Clauws? He’s in his carrier for now,” Y/N replied. “At least until we’re on the road. Maybe you can give him a walk if we stop somewhere.”

That thought made Mikasa light up immediately.

“What are you all doing here?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Jean puffed out his chest, dramatically smoothing his hair with one hand. “I’ll be your driver on this fine journey,” he said, adopting a terrible imitation of a Mitras nobleman. “At your service, m’lady.”

She laughed. “Thank you, Jean. You’re a sunshine.”

“Heh—thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing slightly as if awaiting applause.

Connie and Armin watched him with secondhand embarrassment, as the two male betas of the team. ‘We can see his tail wagging’, they both thought silently.

“Are you excited, Y/N?” Armin asked, shifting the focus with his usual calmness.

Her smile faltered. The tension returned, creeping in under her skin. She turned toward him slowly. “Huh?”

“You’ll be the first civilian to see the ocean!” Armin explained, visibly thrilled. It seemed like he was more excited about it than she was. Maybe because he’d been dreaming of it for years. “It’s the largest body of water in the world. And it’s salty!”

She blinked. “Salty?”

“Yes! And the fish are incredible!” Sasha added, clearly impressed with her own contribution.

“The sea snails are pretty too,” Mikasa chimed in softly.

“They’re called seashells,” Armin corrected kindly, unable to help himself. “You’ll love it, Y/N. It’s breathtaking.”

She nodded slowly, trying to absorb all the information. It still didn’t feel real.

“The animals outside the walls are huge,” Sasha added. “The deer, the bears—they’re way bigger than what we’re used to.”

“Big?” Her stomach dropped slightly. “Like... how big?”

“Oh, nothing compared to titans,” Connie jumped in quickly. “You might find a few old footprints, buried deep in the ground—but no worries. The wild makes everything feel tiny by comparison.”

The excitement turned into unease. Her expression shifted.

“Wait... how far are we going from the walls?” she asked, anxiety creeping into her voice. “I thought we were only going a few meters out.”

Jean laughed. “No, silly! We’re going all the way to the coast. End of the island. We’ll be there for the rest of the year!”

Mikasa’s eyes widened as she realized the others might be saying too much. She started signaling them from behind Y/N’s back—but it was too late.

“We’re building a port and a railway line,” Armin added eagerly. “It’s part of the coastal expansion. Once the ships start arriving from overseas, we’ll have a chance to negotiate with them, explain our intentions—”

“What?” she asked, stunned. “And... What about titans?”

“We eliminated them all,” Mikasa cut in quickly.

But Armin and Jean chuckled, clearly confused by the panic in her voice.

“I mean, yeah,” Jean said. “But some might come from Marley, so you never really—OW!”

Mikasa pinched his side sharply, twisting the skin through his jacket.

“No titans,” she said flatly.

“None. Whatever you say, Mika,” Jean gasped, rubbing his ribs. “Message received.”

The rest nodded awkwardly, pasting bright smiles on their faces.

“Yep! Not even one!” Connie agreed quickly.

“What do we do?” he whispered to Jean as Y/N’s face twisted into a mixture of fear and shock.

“Wait... so we’re not coming back? For a year? GUYS?!”

Before anyone could say more, Levi’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Everyone to your places. We’re leaving.”

The cadets scattered immediately, disappearing like guilty roaches. Levi, unaware of what had just unfolded, approached the cart with calm exhaustion in his posture.

“Come on,” he said, voice quieter now. “Get in.”

But she didn’t move. Instead, she stepped down and approached him.

“Levi, please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go. Not for that long.”

He sighed loudly. “We talked about this. It’s final.”

“Please, Lev—” She gripped his arm, trying to meet his eyes. “Please.”

He froze. His whole body went stiff. He hated this — public attention, the eyes shifting toward them, watching. Her watery eyes, the pleading voice, the touch — all of it made him feel exposed, vulnerable, off balance. “Don’t do this in public,” he muttered. “I already told you — it’s decided. Don’t beg me.”

He placed his hands on her upper arms and gently pushed her back, forcing her to release him. “Don’t make this harder.”

“Levi—” she tried again.

But the pressure was too much. His already-fraying nerves, the constant watchful eyes — it tipped him over the edge.

“Enough, Y/N. Get in the cart.”

There was no softness in the words. Just steel.

The cadets, now a few meters off, watched in silence.

“We fucked up,” Armin whispered.

“Great,” Sasha muttered, “They’re divorcing. We’ll be motherless again.”

“You have a mom,” Jean replied dryly.

“Yeah, but she’s sick of my ass.”

“I wonder why,” Connie added.

“She can’t divorce,” Eren said flatly. “It’s not even legal.”

Legal or not — wanted or not — the formation began to move. Levi and Hange led at the front, just like always.

“What’s the matter now? You two are fighting… AGAIN?” Hange emphasized the word as if the couple’s inability to make it work was taking a toll not just on them but on the general public. Like two parents who refused to let it go, their constant bickering only produced more harm than they believed splitting up would.

The brunette was nearly exasperated—they thought they’d taken a step forward on the Captain’s behalf by giving the girl the items Levi had gathered during the weekend meeting. They’d seen him stuffing everything that was offered for free into his pockets, and when they asked why, Levi’s response had been a mix of muttered excuses—tinged with irritation, pettiness, resignation, and just a bit of shame. The look on his face as he picked things up, claiming he’d give them to her once he got back to the hotel, said it all: “Yeah, I said something bitchy—true, but bitchy—and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Of course, her sudden disappearance—and everything that followed—left the improvised apology gift completely forgotten. Hange had thought they could smooth things over in his favor with the gesture, only to realize their attempt at a single step forward had somehow become three steps back.

”Fuck me,” they muttered exhausted.

Levi, exasperated but in a rush, kept walking, pushing soldiers aside as he slipped through the crowd. “She thinks this is a matter of begging me!”

Hange did their best to keep up with the short man—who, despite his lack of height, was mighty even for brisk walks. “She thinks I’m enjoying this bullshit, that if she keeps begging, I’ll eventually give in!”

“Well—Oops, sorry,” the commander interrupted whatever half-hearted, empty advice they had been trying to come up with, their social obligation as the Captain’s friend momentarily overtaken by nearly colliding with a cadet carrying Thunder Spears.

“I’m not doing this on purpose! It’s not like I’m holding back what she wants just for the sake of it, as if it’s some sick power play. She keeps begging me, like that’s all it takes, like I’m refusing just to be an ass. I don’t enjoy hearing her beg—”

Levi stopped abruptly—not just walking but talking, frowning deeply.

“I’m listening,” Hange affirmed, as if the short man had stopped for lack of feedback.

“Yeah, I know. I just never thought I’d say that about a woman.”

The commander closed their eye and scoffed a chuckle. “You for real? That’s what’s throwing you off in all this?”

“Give me a break,” the Captain said before cursing under his breath. “It’s like hearing Erwin say he doesn’t like being seen as a paternal figure or some shit. Goes against every single fucking kink I’ve ever mentioned before.”

As they walked out to take their place in the formation at the front, Levi somehow picked up the conversation without needing a cue.

“I told you to tell her beforehand,” Hange said, adjusting the strap on their horse.

“I was planning on it,” Levi snapped, yanking his own strap tight. Their faces barely visible over the saddle as they moved, but their tone carried. “I was planning to tell her everything in detail—until she decided to lie to me and disappear for hours with another man!”

“That’s exactly why I told you to tell her sooner!” Hange repeated, echoing words they’d said nights ago. “She’s confused.”

“She’s confused?” Levi scoffed. “Imagine how confused I was, finding out she lied about where she was.”

“You lied too.”

“I didn’t lie. I… avoided certain parts of the truth.”

Hange rolled their eyes so loudly, it was almost audible. “You’re sounding so much like Erwin right now.”

“Don’t bring Eyebrows into this,” Levi muttered, as if the comparison alone—especially in anything remotely romantic—was a mortal insult.

He said something under his breath, but it was completely unintelligible.

“What?” Hange asked, leaning over their horse’s neck with a squint. “I can’t hear you when you grumble like a sewer rat.”

Levi repeated it. The exact same way.

“Stop grumbling and just say it, dammit.”

Finally, after one last gritted attempt, the sentence came out clearly. Hange’s eyes (if they’d had two) would’ve gone wide.

“You didn’t hug her back?!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Levi shot back, climbing onto his horse in one swift motion.

“HUG HER?!” Hange nearly screamed, following suit and swinging onto their own. “WHY the hell did you push her away?!”

“Because it’s hard for me, alright?!” His voice cracked under the weight. “For fuck’s sake—it’s hard. I felt everyone looking at me and I couldn’t — I just fucking couldn’t, okay?”

Hange threw their hands to their face in mock-sobbed despair. “How did a man like you manage to get married with these social skills?!” They asked, sarcasm layered thick. It was meant to tease—one of their usual back-and-forths, laced with roasting affection.

But Levi didn’t fire back. This time he didn’t give a smartass reply, rolled his eyes or doubled the bet.

Instead, he gripped the reins so tightly that the leather creaked under the pressure.

“Because they forced me into this,” he muttered, and for once his voice wasn’t sharp. It was bitter. Broken. “You think I don’t know I suck at this? That maybe I’m aware I don’t have the time or the emotional availability to give?”

Hange went still. That pulled the humor out of the air.

But inside the moment, everything quieted.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Levi continued, voice low but trembling with restrained fury. “Everyone and their damn mothers keep reminding me. But I’m trying. I’ve been trying since I stepped into that chapel and waited there for hours.” His jaw clenched. “I know it’s shit. But this—” he looked away, swallowing hard— “this is me trying.”

He let out a low, guttural curse. “Fuck.”

The field fell into a quiet so stark it was almost unnatural — the kind of silence that is deafening. The grass rustled. Hooves thudded softly against earth. Somewhere, cicadas droned in the heat.

But all she could hear was Levi’s ragged breathing, uneven and fast, slowly evening out as the fire inside him cooled to ash.

Ashamed, he looked away — not from Hange, but from himself. As if just saying it out loud made it all worse.

But maybe… maybe it didn’t.

Maybe it was the first right thing he’d done.

Hange, who knew all too well what it felt like to be forced into shoes they never asked to wear, finally said, quietly:

“I know.” Just that.

They reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder—firm, grounding, comforting.

“I know,” they repeated.

One deep breath. Then the formation began to move.

At first, the journey was rough. Every part of the cart rattled and shook with intensity as they made their way through the forest, crawling slowly along narrow, uneven paths. The terrain forced the convoy to a near crawl.

Eventually, the structure of the Scouts’ facility disappeared behind them — the same way it had once emerged from the fog during a spring rain. Now, it vanished into the trees with no fanfare.

She remained inside the cart, tucked away in its protective shell. There wasn’t much to hear aside from the rhythmic rustling of wheels grinding over dirt. Then, finally, they broke through the forest and onto a wide, open road.

With most of the road ahead now paved or packed smooth, she opened Clauw’s carrier and let the cat out. Still, she clipped on his harness and leash — just in case. Tight as it was around his furry frame, it didn’t alter his appearance much. Clauw was long-haired and thick underneath — he had never skipped a meal in his life, and it showed.

Despite his newfound freedom, he curled into her arms and stayed there. Maybe because he was old now. Maybe because, for all his size, Clauw had always been a timid cat. He seemed used to traveling — a product of having been dragged with her everywhere since childhood. Their bond had only deepened with time, and his presence calmed her more than she’d realized.

She bent down and kissed the side of his face. He purred in her lap, and she clung to him like an anchor — something steady in all this unfamiliar motion.

Peeking out from the cart occasionally, she began to recognize the route. They were taking the Trost road — the same path described in old newspaper clippings about the retaking of Wall Maria. First Trost, then the elevators leading up to the restored gates.

“Y/N!”

Jean’s voice called out from the front seat, where he’d been driving. “Come on out! We’re about to pass through the only Wall of the trip. It’ll be fun!”

At first, she ignored him. But then, with a sigh, she changed her mind and crawled out to take the seat beside him.

Jean greeted her with an exaggerated grin. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

As a child, passing through the walls had always thrilled her. They broke the monotony of endless countryside views and the mindless rounds of I Spy — back when the entire world outside the window was just varying shades of wheat-gold ochre.

Now, the strong wind funneled by the tunnel blasted against her face. She instinctively held her head and her dress down as they passed beneath the towering gate. She squinted up, just catching a glimpse of the battlements — and then they were through.

The town of Trost greeted them with crowds. People clapped and cheered, shouting wishes for safety and luck. The formation slowed at the checkpoint, where the sealed gates loomed tall and final, the sun already sinking.

To her surprise — or perhaps not — children ran through the streets chasing after the wagons, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous figures in the lead.

“Captain Levi!” they called. His name echoed with Hange’s and Eren’s, cheers overlapping into one noise.

She noted, unimpressed, the way young women in the crowd blushed and swooned. Her brow arched. ‘From far away, he’s a masterpiece. Up close? Monet.’

As they approached the front gate, the formation halted.

“Are we stopping for the night?” she asked, climbing down to stretch her legs. Jean hopped down too.

“Nope,” he replied. “We’re pushing through. Gonna ride straight through the night and reach Shiganshina by tomorrow afternoon.”

She frowned. “All day? Isn’t that exhausting?”

Jean shrugged like it was obvious. “We’re soldiers. If we can’t pull one all-nighter, we’re in the wrong profession.”

The rest of the squad gathered nearby. Mikasa approached with hopeful eyes.

“Want to let him walk a bit?” she asked gently, already reaching for the cat.

“Please. Thank you,” Y/N murmured, handing Clauw over. The relief on her face was subtle but present.

“Y/N,” Levi’s voice cut through from ahead.

He was a few paces forward, hand extended, arm out — waiting for her.

She took a steadying breath and followed.

“Riko will show you the garrison’s girl restroom so you can freshen up,” he said, barely glancing back. “I’ll bring something for dinner.”

“But...” she glanced around the formation. “What about the rest of you?”

“We’re working.”

“And food?”

“We’ll eat crackers on the move. Just go with Riko.”

His words left no room for negotiation. The grey-haired soldier appeared beside her, already ready to escort.

She nodded and followed.

After washing up with cold water and wiping herself down with a damp cloth, she emerged to find Levi waiting, arms crossed. Without a word, he handed her a wrapped pair of jam-and-cheese sandwiches and a water flask.

She blinked in surprise but accepted them.

The rest of the journey blurred. The sight of Wall Maria — long since restored — was haunting. She’d been old enough to remember its fall and now, seeing it again, there was something almost sacred about it. The ruins that remained felt ancient. Ivy clung to shattered buildings. Window frames sat empty. Still, people worked in the fields nearby, greeting the formation with quiet gratitude.

Compared to Trost, there was a peacefulness here. A kind of countryside calm that felt stolen from a dream.

She stayed awake into the night. Not tired, not hungry — not really anything. Just empty. The summer air was lukewarm, not cool enough to need a sweater, not warm enough to bring comfort.

She shared one sandwich with Sasha and nibbled on the other. It was tasteless, but she forced herself to eat. Eventually, she curled back into the cart — but sleep never really came. Everything woke her: the scratchy blanket, the movement of the wheels, the constant voices outside, the birds, the owls, the night insects.

By the time they reached the next sealed gate, dawn bleeding into the sky, something shifted inside her.

She looked back, trying to see the walls they’d left behind.

But Wall Maria was gone.

Just like that.

Swallowed by distance.

And then the thought came — plain, quiet, terrifying in its honesty:

‘That’s how far I am from home.’

As soon as the realization hit her, it became undeniable—unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her hands trembled. The broken gate had been sealed by Eren’s titan form, and the formation was now being lifted to the top of the walls, preparing to descend on the other side. The very same elevators that had brought them up would now take them down into the unknown.

For the first time in her life, she was seeing beyond the walls.

Fear struck hard.

‘Don’t look down,’ she told herself.

But, of course, she did.

Her breath hitched as she took in the staggering drop from the top of the wall to the endless stretch of grass below. The sheer height made her stomach twist.

And speaking of colossal things—her mind, in a cruel act of betrayal, reminded her of all the horrifying stories she’d grown up with. The monsters beyond the walls. The titans. Every worst-case scenario she’d ever been taught came rushing to the forefront of her thoughts.

Instinct took over. In a blind scramble for safety, she backed into the elevator shaft, clutching her cat against her chest like a lifeline and gripping the column beside her as if it were the only thing keeping her from plummeting into the abyss.

Armin, always perceptive, noticed immediately and approached with concern.

“Y/N… are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said quickly. But her wide eyes, clenched teeth, and bone-white knuckles gripping the metal told a different story.

Like ducklings following their leader, the rest of the squad trailed after Armin, equally curious and confused.

“Fresh air?” Jean muttered, frowning. “On top of the walls?”

You could practically hear the collective thought process: ‘There’s no place with more air than fifty meters above the ground, standing on the last wall of Paradis.’

Mikasa knelt beside her, eyes scanning her carefully. “Are you dizzy? Is your blood pressure dropping?” she asked, noting how Y/N was slowly sinking to the ground.

Between ragged breaths, Y/N choked out, “I can’t go out there… I’m not going out there.”

Sasha’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh! You’re scared! But there’s nothing to worry about! We’ve been in Levi’s squad for a while now!”

Connie nodded enthusiastically. “The Special Operations Squad! Nobody better than us!”

Y/N looked up at them, still unconvinced. Armin added, “We’ve been serving under Captain Levi for nearly two years. You’re safe with us.”

She hesitated, frowning. Something about that number didn’t sit right. “Two years?” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened to the last squad?”

The air shifted.

The six teenagers exchanged glances.

“Uh…”

“Ehm…”

Mikasa, deciding it was time to intervene, stepped forward, smoothly pushing Armin aside as if shielding Y/N from whatever dumb thing he might accidentally say next.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” she assured her with quiet confidence. “Captain Levi and I are the strongest. If anything happens, I’ll protect you.”

It was meant to be reassuring. But it had the exact opposite effect.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm. “So… there’s a chance something will happen?!”

—

“Captain…”

Levi turned, still mid-discussion over last-minute battle plans when Mikasa’s voice interrupted.

“What?” He frowned, hands on his hips. Whatever it was, it had better be important.

Mikasa hesitated, glancing toward the elevator. “We think you should check on Y/N.”

—

“I’M NOT GOING.”

Y/N clung to the elevator’s frame like her life depended on it, legs locked, refusing to step foot outside.

Levi stood beside her, “I told you, you need to come with us,” he repeated, voice low and firm.

“NO.” She shook her head wildly, gripping the metal tighter. “I don’t want to die!”

Levi exhaled sharply, trying to keep his patience. “I already told you, there are no more titans. I wouldn’t take you out if there were.”

“How do you know?! Have you even looked outside?! IT’S HUGE OUT THERE!”

Levi stared at her, deadpan.

He had spent more time outside the walls than inside them. And yet here she was, explaining it to him.

His pride crumbled. His instincts as an alpha did, too. Only adding to the recent events.

His inner alpha bristled slightly at the scent of her fear. It stung his pride—not just as a soldier, but as a mate. Alphas were supposed to be a source of security, a symbol of strength. Omegas chose alphas based on their ability to protect them and their offspring. Normally, his reputation alone was enough to reassure anyone, let alone his own wife.

Yet here she was, outright terrified, and his presence wasn’t helping at all. But right now, standing beside his mate, all he could smell was her fear.

It was a blow to his pride.

“Y/N,” he said, this time searching for any grain of patience, love and support inside him. His voice sounded almost soft and calm. “I wouldn’t take you if it wasn’t safe.” His tone was measured, steady. If she was his, then she needed to trust him. “Don’t you trust me?”

Without hesitation—without even thinking—she blurted out:

“NO.”

Silence.

Dead. Absolute silence.

Hange, who had wandered over to investigate, let out a wheezing laugh so intense they had to clutch their stomach.

Levi, meanwhile, just stared.

A sharp "Tch—" escaped him as he scratched the back of his head, trying to mask the sting. Ouch.

Hange, still gasping for breath, spread their arms dramatically. “Ah, no worries, my dear! Your fear is simply due to the unknown! That’s perfectly natural! But have no fear—I’ll teach you everything about titans, and I will keep you safe!”

As if spring had just arrived and they were a pair of rutting bucks trying to prove themselves, both alphas now stood in front of her. There was an unspoken challenge in the air. Two alphas—Hange and Levi—instinctively competing to reassure the terrified omega. A display of dominance in its most ridiculous form.

Y/N blinked. Then, in the flattest, most unimpressed tone imaginable, she deadpanned: “How are you gonna keep me safe? You can’t even spot titans—you’re missing an eye.”

Hange’s proud smile froze. Their face fell into an expression of sheer offense and heartbreak.

Levi choked on a laugh. He tried to hide it—tried so damn hard—but his shoulders shook, and a muffled snort escaped before he could stop it.

“Don’t laugh, you asshole,” Hange hissed at him, glaring.

The three alphas—Levi, Hange, and Mikasa—stood together, momentarily humbled. If this were the animal kingdom, they had just been denied their mating rights.

“She’s in shock…” Hange sighed, observing the omega’s state. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her face drained of color despite the summer heat, and her translucent eyes darted around in panic.

“Tch. Let’s just get this over with.” Levi’s voice was monotone, unreadable, his plans undisclosed.

The girl’s grip tightened where she sat, her head shaking in frantic denial. Just as Levi shifted slightly, Armin stepped forward, planting himself between them with his arms stretched wide.

“Give her some air!” he urged, casting a firm glance at Levi before turning to the trembling omega. “I’ll handle it. Let me talk to her.”

To everyone’s surprise, Levi didn’t argue. He simply muttered, “Alright,” and walked away.

That threw Armin off. He had expected resistance—some insistence that Levi knew best how to deal with the situation. But the Captain left without a fight, leaving Armin no time to dwell on it. Instead, he turned back to the girl and knelt beside her.

“I’m NOT going!” she cried, her voice raw with fear.

Armin placed a gentle hand on her back, his tone soothing. “It’s okay. No one’s going to force you. I just want to keep you company.” He paused, studying her trembling form. “Would it help if I talked? Maybe something to help you breathe through this?”

She gave a hesitant nod.

While Armin searched for the right words to comfort her, Levi continued on, ignoring Mikasa as she trailed after him.

“You’re seriously not going to do anything?!” she snapped, as if Y/N were her own mate in distress.

Levi, accustomed to the cadet’s insubordination, didn’t even spare her a glance. He crouched by his belongings, retrieved a thermos, and poured steaming tea into the lid, which doubled as a cup. Then, from a small travel pouch, he scooped in sugar. More than a few spoonfuls.

Mikasa grimaced at the excessive amount. “Ugh.”

Meanwhile, Armin kept speaking. “You know… I froze in shock too. Back in Trost, during my first real battle.” His voice was calm, almost nostalgic.

She blinked, still breathing unevenly. “Really?”

Armin chuckled softly. “Yeah. Some soldier I was, huh?” He shook his head, offering her a small smile. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not going,” she repeated, though her voice wavered. “I want—”

Her lips parted slightly, the hint of a response forming before Levi interrupted, pressing the makeshift teacup into her trembling hands.

She blinked at it, then at him. "What—what is this?" she asked, her voice shaking almost as much as her hands. She looked utterly confused, and Armin, just as baffled, shot Levi a questioning glance.

"Drink," Levi instructed flatly.

Hesitantly, she brought it to her lips and took a small sip—only to immediately grimace, pulling away in disgust. "Ugh! It's sweet. Even for me."

"Good. It'll keep you from fainting," Levi said, crossing his arms as if that settled it.

Armin caught on first. It wasn’t just tea—it was a calculated act of reassurance, a way to ground her and replenish her sugar levels after the shock. Levi was helping in his own way. Armin nodded, subtly encouraging her to drink. Levi, satisfied that his job was done, turned away and resumed his duties.

Minutes passed. The soldiers began to hurry as the descent was imminent. Armin continued talking, filling the space with calm words. “The sea is beautiful, and—” He trailed off, noticing the familiar tension creeping back into her frame. Her breathing swallowed again.

“It’s alright,” he assured. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if you’re not ready, I’m sure everyone will underst— Wait, are you okay?”

She hunched forward suddenly, making Armin’s stomach drop.

“I just… feel really tired…” she mumbled.

Armin exhaled in relief. “That’s from the hyperventilation. You’re finally calming down—”

She had started to slump forward.

Alarmed, Armin reached for her, only to watch as Levi reappeared out of nowhere, catching her effortlessly before she could hit the ground. Her head lolled against his stomach, motionless.

Panic surged through Armin. "Levi—?! Should we—"

Levi, calm as ever, merely shifted her weight with practiced ease. Placing his hands under her arms, he hoisted her up, adjusting her against his chest. One hand supported her back while the other slid beneath her legs, holding her as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Problem solved," Levi declared smoothly, his tone entirely too casual for the situation.

Still carrying her effortlessly in one arm, he reached down, grabbed a small cat that had been loitering nearby, and plopped it over her back.. The cat barely protested, curling into her limp form.

"You too, little shit," Levi muttered at the feline, then turned on his heel, striding toward the designated departure zone.

Armin could only gape. "What—what did you do?!”

Levi didn’t even look back. “Gave her what we give soldiers when they’re severely wounded.” He shrugged. “By the time she wakes up, we’ll be too far for her to freak out.”

It was quite the sight, though the rest found it obvious. Levi, walking around with her perched against his chest as if she weighed nothing—settled along one of his forearms—grabbing his own equipment and barking orders, all while balancing her and the cat on his left arm. He took his place to descend on the elevators, each gust of air that hit them making him scoff and grimace in pure disdain.

Every single time the strong wind swept across their faces—which, considering they were fifty meters above ground, was rather frequent—he caught the stench. The lingering scent clinging to her like a brand, a reminder of his failure. She being asleep, unable to find peace because he hadn’t been able to give it to her. His incapacity to speak the truth. Her scent muddled with someone else’s. Having her so close—her neck right beside his face—was torture.

‘This is stupid,’ he thought sharply. ‘Wasting brain space on this.’

But when he finally stepped into the cart to let her rest, he paused. He glanced behind him, as if someone might’ve followed, then let the intrusive thought win.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he bent down and pressed his neck against the curve of hers, rubbing it quickly —first one side, then the other.

Then her wrists a bit too on both of his neck sides. Brushed them against his skin, just lightly. The places where pheromones lived most strongly.

One last sniff to her hair. A deep inhale.

His scent, now faintly tangled with hers, made something primal inside him settle.

His alpha—restless and bitter just moments ago—nearly purred with satisfaction.

The sensation made Levi want to crawl out of his own skin.

One part of him screamed victory, as though he had just reclaimed something sacred. The other part wanted to grab a mirror, look himself dead in the eye with a judgmental glare, and growl, “Why are you like this?”

Still, he did what he could to make her comfortable. He laid her down gently, adjusting the pillow beneath her head, and pulled a blanket over her sleeping form.

Then, without a word, he turned away and disappeared back into the chaos of duty.

—

‘The patent leather shoes as I jumped the rope, my muddy, stained knees, bruised as I ran through the park. Most of my friends and I would sprint down the streets after being picked up from the girls-only school, racing to see the displays in the fancy wedding dress store, to admire the new designs.

We were wealthy enough for my mother to take offense at the idea of my sisters and me learning how to cook, but not enough to afford private tutors. There was a time I was truly free, saving all my dreams inside the rooms of my dollhouse.

Little by little, I started to grow up, and my freedom disappeared—like the soap bubbles I used to pop in the backyard.

All children born of a traditional Alpha-Omega couple were born with three possibilities. There was always a chance the daughter would present as an Alpha too. A Beta child would be considered a disappointment—destined for the working class.

There was a time I stood a chance.

But little by little, without even realizing it at first, I was told not to run like a savage. That girls like me didn’t do that. That we didn’t ride horses, or climb monkey bars. But what never changed was the thrill of rushing with my friends to see the dresses. One day, it would be our turn. Each of us would have our own design, ones we used to draw in crayon on scrap paper. Mine were always the most praised.

Little by little, I forgot I was allowed to have bruised knees. Forgot I used to outrun my cousins. I began to shrink into the mold, just as the ruffles on my dream dress were ironed stiff into place.

The dress I tried on—the one that made my mother cry tears of joy—made me feel so pretty that I forgot I had ever wanted anything else.’

“Do what he tells you, alright? No sass-mouthing, Y/N,” her mother said, fingers weaving through her hair in the dim morning light.

The cart was already waiting at the front.

“Alright,” she replied, lifeless.

“And try to smile. A happy wife makes a happy husband.”

“Alright.”

“Show interest in what he does... but not too much. When they come home from work, they sometimes want peace and quiet.”

Her mother secured the final braid, her voice soft and far away. Her hands, though warm, moved over Y/N’s arms with a kind of absent care. “...How will I know?” Y/N turned slightly, glancing at her over her shoulder.

“You’ll learn, with time,” her mother whispered. “Learn what he likes, what he doesn’t. He’ll show you when you make a mistake. And you’ll learn.”

“Mom… I don’t want this.” Her voice cracked into a sob. “I’m scared.”

Her mother hugged her then—still her child, no matter how old. Kissed her face gently. “As your mother, it’s my duty to tell you: we don’t get to choose where we live. We live where they let us.”

‘I always thought it would be easy for me. That this was my place, and I’d learned it well. That this was my role by nature.

But if this is my place by nature... why did I have to be forced into it?’

The memories twisted, blended, folded in on themselves. She ran—ran in her little patent leather shoes down the street. Her friends ran ahead, laughing. But she couldn’t catch them. They had already grown out of her reach.

When she woke, she was sobbing.

Disoriented, she scanned her surroundings, panic swelling in her chest. She crawled out from the blankets, her body sluggish with sleep, and found herself in what looked like a campsite. A few tents around her. The sky glowed faintly—dawn was near. Trees towered all around, thick and tall, enclosing the clearing like ancient sentinels.

She turned in circles, barefoot, heart racing. Until she collided into something solid.

“Calm down. It’s all safe,” Levi muttered, standing in front of her. His hands hovered just over her arms, not touching—but close.

Her panic curdled into something hotter. Her eyes widened, her breath coming fast and sharp—and then the fear became anger.

“What did you do?!” she screamed, fists pounding weakly against his chest. “I told you I didn’t want to come! I told you!”

He didn’t stop her. The impacts were small. Harmless.

“There’s nothing out here. See?” he said quietly, like he was trying to reason with her. “You just needed to rest.”

“I’m not a kid! Don’t put me to sleep like one!” she shouted, her translucent eyes turning toward what she guessed must be north.

And there—where walls had once loomed—was nothing.

Kilometers and kilometers of nothing.

He thought the outburst was just anger — fear of being there, maybe. But for her, it was the collapse of everything she had ever known.

Her mind resisted the truth for even a second, but the cruel thought of having to stand this — this nothingness — for an entire year, tore her apart.

“No, no, no,” she repeated in raw denial, sobbing messily as the weight of it all crushed her.

The cries confused him. Finally, Levi gripped her arms — gently, with no real strength — as if trying to shake her out of the shock.

“It’s not the end of the world, brat. Come on,” he muttered, exhausted.

To him, it felt like watching a toddler refuse to go to kindergarten.

But as her emotional state didn’t seem to improve — not with anything he said, or did, or tried — Levi grew helpless.

No one likes watching someone cry like that. There’s no comfort to offer. No quick fix for despair. Just one salty stream after another.

“Don’t cry like that, damn it. No one died. It’s all fine,” he said. “You’ll like it. They’re building houses and all that shit. There’s nothing out here to be scared of anymore.”

But titans were the last of her worries.

And Levi had just said the word that nailed the issue — fear.

She imagined her life like this. Like the past few days — isolated, empty, in the middle of nowhere. With no one to talk to, unless she could tolerate the scrutiny.

“I’m scared,” she sobbed, “I want to go home.”

She was scared of returning home too late, of having missed everything with her mother. Of coming back without a child. Of never fitting anywhere again.

“Y/N, listen to me.” His voice rose, trying to snap her out of it. “There’s nothing out here. What are you so scared of?”

He shook her slightly — not hard, just enough to try and make her focus. But they were speaking two different languages. Living in two different worlds that could’ve been so easily connected, if only one of them had the right words.

His hands gripped her arms again — not roughly — but her skin was already bruised.

She was scared of what he’d do once they were alone, after the scene she was making. Scared of opening the wrong drawer in their shared quarters. Scared of living in a place she was merely allowed to exist in. Scared of stepping fully into her mother’s shoes, of hearing herself one day say the same resigned words.

It felt stupid — ridiculous even — that the very role she had trained her whole life for now terrified her.

“Of you,” she whispered.

Those two words echoed louder between them than any scream.

Levi’s hands, which had been trying to steady her, fell away. Slowly. Like he’d just been burned. Almost ashamed.

It hit him in the heart — a clean, precise shot — and silenced any argument he might have had.

A knot rose in his throat, nearly choking him. His lips pressed into a hard line.

A stupid thought crossed his mind: ‘This would be ten times easier if I were the asshole everyone thinks I am.’ Maybe if he cared less, her words wouldn’t have cut so deep.

The silence of the wilderness was all-encompassing.

“I didn’t want to yell at you,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Not the other day. Not in the bedroom.”

Her sobs quieted. She didn’t raise her eyes, but the words confused her—startled her enough to pause.

“The night with the ink mess,” he continued, “that was me bitching. I stand by what I said, but it was a shitty way to say it.” He exhaled, frustrated. “And my stubborn ass thought I’d find a less shitty time to explain all this crap. But then you lied. You disappeared. And I got so fucking angry—” He stopped himself. “I’m still fucking angry.”

Levi cut off, as if even trying to speak was pushing his limits.

“I know it sounds hypocritical, after I slammed a drawer and shout, but…” he hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not like that.”

The implication hung thick in the air. He ran a hand through his hair, then let it fall to the back of his neck, scratching absently—like he might find relief in tugging out a particularly stubborn hair. A bitter scoff escaped his lips.

“I guess I’ve gotta prove that,” he muttered. “Until death do us part.”

That line — half-joke, half-confession — snapped her out of the spiral she’d been in. It didn’t feel like a demand to trust him. Or a challenge. Or some dramatic vow. It felt like what it was: a quiet promise. One he’d have to prove every single day, not just once, but over and over — to her, to himself, maybe even to the kind of man he wanted to be.

For the first time in a while, she looked up. Met his eyes. And then, softly — her voice scratchy, like it hadn’t been used in years — she said, “I promise you… nothing happened between us.”

Levi let out a humorless breath. Almost a laugh. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m not naive.”

He didn’t smell anything on her. Nothing out of place. If something deeper had happened — more than a kiss, more than talk — her scent would’ve told him. But still… something in his voice hinted at how close betrayal had felt. How easily imagined.

The tone stung. She heard the hurt behind it.

“I… I’ve even been burning his letters,” she added quickly, like it might patch something.

“Letters?” Levi cut in sharply. “Die—? Some bullshit? Diederik? I thought he was a cousin or something with how often he sent them.”

She tensed, shrinking slightly. She hadn’t expected him to remember. Or connect it so quickly.

“You knew he was sending letters to my place and didn’t say a word?” he asked, tone sharper now but not fully furious — more baffled. “The fucking audacity of that asshole to send letters to my house.” He swore under his breath. “Is that how you arranged to meet him?”

“There wasn’t any arranging…” she mumbled. “He left me a note under the hotel room door. I told you — I’ve been burning the rest.”

Levi didn’t explode like she feared. Instead, he just frowned deeply, dragging a hand over his eyes and pressing into the sockets like the pressure might keep his temper down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You went to meet with a guy who sent you letters you didn’t answer, tracked you to a hotel, left notes under your door…” He trailed off, grimacing. “Holy fuck, you’re alive by a miracle.”

“Well… now that you put it like that,” she said, trying and failing to smile. Her voice cracked. “I—I just wanted to talk to someone. Like a friend. I didn’t know him like that.”

Talk to him… like a friend? Is she stupid? He was completely lost in her train of thought—because he couldn’t recall a single lifetime, or universe, where you could go talk to your ex-fiancé as a friend.

“Didn’t you spend the whole previous day at your friend’s house? Didn’t that help?”

But the moment the word friends left his mouth, she broke eye contact. Her face twisted in pain, sharp and unfiltered. Like he’d just stepped on something raw. As he tried to piece together the last few days, Levi realized he was unraveling a pattern of missing information.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

‘Oh no. We are not doing that.’

He put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently backwards until she almost fell onto a loose log. The Scouts had sat there earlier that day. The bonfire was out, the pot left to dry with the serving spoon still in it—cleaned after they’d eaten the stew. Legs spread, Levi sat down beside her with a demanding presence.

“Why did you lie to me? Why’d you say you were meeting your folks when you weren’t?”

Facing each other, Levi studied her tight-lipped, apologetic expression, searching for something real beneath it. “I’m not throwing some shitty punishment at you or anything. I just want to know why you looked me in the eye and lied.”

She hesitated—doubt in her eyes, but no real reason to keep it in anymore, except maybe fear of what might come next. “I thought… if I told you my parents weren’t going, you wouldn’t take me to Mitras.”

“So your parents were never gonna be fucking there?”

She shook her head slowly. Then, as if something clicked, her mind reached for a memory—his words on their first night.

“No…” she murmured, “My family’s at the countryside house. It was too short notice for them to come to the capital.” Her words were sluggish, either from the exhaustion of a recent forced sleep or the weight of everything pressing down on her. “And… my mother’s pregnant.”

Levi frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as the pieces didn’t quite fit. ‘I saw her, what—a month ago? She didn’t even look pregnant.’ Logic kicked in. A woman that far along shouldn’t travel, sure. But something still felt off.

“Ah,” he hummed, a vague noise of forced acknowledgment. “Congrats.” Then, seeing the sadness on her face, he quickly added, “I guess.”

“I need to go back,” she said, fiddling with her fingers in distress, picking at the skin beside her nails. “My mom needs me. She’s having a difficult pregnancy.”

Her voice was steady, but her reasoning made no sense to him.

“And what are you gonna do there?”

“Look after my siblings, of course.”

A hum of mild surprise echoed in his throat. “Ah… You got more than your little sister?”

“We’re seven in total.”

“Seven?!” He reeled back in shock. “Damn. How old is your mother?”

The question confused her. Most of her friends came from big families. “Thirty-nine… almost forty, I think.”

Levi did the math in his head, blinking. “Your mom’s six years older than me and has seven kids?” He looked genuinely thrown, while she just blinked at his reaction, like it wasn’t that strange at all. That only confirmed it. “Holy shit. Your folks really didn’t waste any time, huh?”

That earned a quiet chuckle from her. “The doctor said my mom shouldn’t be having more children… she’s lost too many pregnancies already. Mae was even born premature.” Her voice cracked. “I’m scared she won’t make it…”

Levi softened slightly, trying—awkwardly—to offer comfort. “I’m sure a good doctor’ll find a way to end the pregnancy and make sure your mom pulls through. Don’t worry.”

But the way she looked at him—confused, regretful—made something click.

“‘Cause that’s the smart thing to do,” he added. “Especially when she’s got a bunch of young kids who need her more than a newborn does.”

“My… family believes the more, the merrier,” she whispered. “A child is always a blessing.”

Levi let out a long, heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. The whole situation was simple and infuriating at the same time. “Right. Your dad’s allergic to wrapping it up and doesn’t give a fuck. That’s the real problem.”

Her face turned scarlet. She stammered, “Why would you say it like that? Gosh—” she dropped her voice, “They’re married, after all… it’s normal. Plus, they’re mates. What do you expect them to do?”

“Well, for starters,” Levi said dryly, “I know your family owns two houses. He could spend a week or two a year in the other one and not get her pregnant. Problem solved.”

But even he knew that wasn’t the real issue. That was just surface-level.

“Then again, that’s clearly not a solution for a man who doesn’t give a fuck about his family.”

The blow landed.

“He does care about us,” she insisted, defensive now—though he hadn’t said them, just her father.

“If he cared,” Levi said coldly, “he’d know that his other six brats need their mother a hell of a lot more than he needs to go raw for a week.”

For the first time in her life, someone had said it — had placed the blame on the other party in the relationship.

His words still hurt. Maybe because defending her family’s dynamics had been written into her since childhood, stitched into her with years of quiet teachings and expectations.

But somehow, his bluntness opened a door — just wide enough for her to voice something that had long lived in the back of her mind as nothing more than an intrusive thought.

“To be honest… I don’t think they should be having any more kids either,” she admitted.

The words felt light — like letting go of something she didn’t know she was carrying.

“But it’s done,” she added, quieter now. “And my siblings need me.”

“You know,” Levi said, resting an elbow on one knee, his voice low and rough, “I don’t usually say this to anyone but myself, but… that’s not your responsibility.”

Her head turned, brows creased. “How can you say that? They’re my little brothers and sisters.”

A soft, resigned scoff escaped his nose. Because in her, he saw it — for the first time. That same thing that lived in him. Blind loyalty. Crushing duty. That instinct to carry burdens that were never yours to begin with.

“Y/N,” he said, voice firm but not unkind. “You’re their sister. Not their mother.” He leaned forward, gaze steady. “I know it sounds fucking selfish. I’m sure it does. But if you let yourself become a slave to your parents’ bad decisions… then the day your mother dies, you’ll be the next one in line to be your father’s wife 2.0.”

She played with her ring, turning it around her finger without taking it off. It had become a habit since it used to be loose. Now it fit snugly—tightened by Levi’s makeshift fix. Her breathing was soft, quiet, as his words slowly sank in and took root in her mind. It would take a lot of care and time for that seed of self-identity to grow into something real, but it was a start. Like a frozen pond in midwinter—beneath all the thick, harsh layers of ice, there was still life.

She frowned deeply. “You’re right… it’s just—it’d be easier to feel less useless if I could help, at least like that.” But her voice cracked at the edges. Levi’s mind went straight to how he’d told her she needed to start helping around. He was about to tell her it wasn’t that serious—but then, like the final drop that overflows a full glass, she broke.

“I should’ve used my time in the capital—wasted on meeting Die—to go see the doctor my friend told me about.”

“A doctor? You feel bad?” Levi asked quickly, alert. “Oi—oi, what’s the matter?”

He bent down, trying to get a look at her face. She was sobbing again, wet and broken. She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Why would you go see a doctor if you’re not sick?”

“Because I lost my heat,” she whispered, “and maybe I can’t get pregnant… like my mom.”

“What?” he said. “Why are you saying that bullshit? Your friends told you that?”

She nodded slightly. “Well, fuck your friends,” Levi said immediately. “You’re young. You’re stressed. You don’t need a damn doctor.”

But his words barely scratched the surface of the storm inside her. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap.

“It’s just—” she sobbed, “I can’t even do the one thing I’m supposed to do right.”

“Oi—”

“No, but—” her words stumbled over themselves as her breathing quickened again. “It’s the only thing I’m meant to do and I can’t even do it! Why is my body betraying me like this? If I’m not a mother, then what am I supposed to be?!”

Her hands flew up to cover her face as her cries broke open again, muffled by her palms. She curled forward, shoulders trembling.

Levi sat there, speechless. His gut twisted. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m so bad at this.”

But then—he reached a hand to her back, steady, warm. “This is gonna sound cringe as hell,” he muttered, “but... you can be whatever you fucking want, Y/N.”

She flinched slightly, moving away—not to reject his comfort, but as if she didn’t think she deserved it. Like this heartbreak was punishment.

He kept going, even as she turned.

“Listen to me. You’re young. We’ve got plenty of damn time to figure out if your heat comes back, or if you can get knocked up. And if not? We’ll deal with that. And if nothing works? There’s still a whole lot more in life than pushing out kids. A hundred other kids out there who’d be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Don’t act like this isn’t an inconvenience,” she said bitterly. “An alpha with an omega who can’t even go into heat...”

That short-circuited something in him.

“You think I care about that?” he asked sharply. As she wouldn’t look at him, she wouldn’t answer either. He reached out and gripped her face, gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“You think I care that you lost a heat?” he repeated. Their faces were inches apart. The raw pain in hers answered for her.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N. I haven’t even thought about that.” His voice was low and rough. “I don’t give a shit. I care that you’re a crying mess because of some bitch you call a friend.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “Do I look like someone who goes around saying shit to make people feel better?”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“C’mon, Y/N. Half the time I can’t even say the shit I should say. You think I suddenly got the social skills to lie?”

Between sniffles, she laughed.

Their eyes met. Her cheeks flushed—whether from crying or their closeness, neither could say.

“Don’t you think this all would’ve been easier if I’d had my heat in spring?” she asked, teasing softly now.

“No,” he said immediately. “Have you seen how damn controlling I am? The country’s a mess, and the thought of leaving you behind, knocked up with my kid, while I ride off to the end of the shitty world—” he quoted her, “—is already making me want to rip my hair out.”

She laughed again, and wiped at her face.

“I’m sorry about all this.”

“I’m sorry I wasted money on a cart for you to visit those bitches,” he said dryly. “Next time, spit in their faces.”

“Levi!” she scolded, laughing through the last of her tears.

After a rare moment of closeness, they both leaned forward, gently bumping their foreheads together in silent support. Her breathing was still uneven, but it was calming, slowly syncing with his. Breathing the same air, their scents mingled. His hand, still cupping her cheek, moved to stroke her face gently. He still couldn’t find the right words. But this was something.

They sat there a little longer.

Eventually, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her fingers played with her ring again, but this time, there was peace in it.

The gold thread shimmered softly in the first light of dawn.

“I should’ve taken the ring to get resized when we were in Mitras,” Levi muttered, annoyed at himself for missing the chance.

But she just smiled, more tenderly this time. “It’s alright. I like it like this.”

Levi frowned, unsure if she really meant it.She held her hand up and spread her fingers, admiring it.

“They say rings match the marriage. That’s why people want the biggest, the fanciest. But I think ours matches us pretty well.”

Silence lingered for a few seconds as Levi squinted at her, trying to process the statement.

“Shitty?” he offered.

She laughed brightly.“No, you idiot,” she grinned. “It’s not meant to fit. But we try to make it work. And that’s more than a lot of people can say about their arrangements.”

He hummed softly, nodding. “Yeah… that sounds way more poetic.”

—

From a safe distance, just beyond the tree line, the remnants of Levi’s squad were half-huddled, half-loitering, trying to stay out of sight.

Or at least, most of them were trying.

Sasha groaned, arms crossed over her stomach. “Can I go have breakfast already? I’m literally dying.”

Behind the cover of a tall tree, Hange peeked around the bark like a spy in a bad disguise. “Give them some time,” they whispered, voice full of mischievous reverence.

Armin yawned as they were supposed to start their duties and squinted toward the couple at the camp’s edge. “Weren’t they, like, screaming at each other last night?” He tilted his head. “And now they’re cuddling? That kind of emotional whiplash causes unpredictable attachment models in kids. Has anyone considered that? I could develop toxic anxious attachment,”

“Dude,” Connie muttered, elbowing him, “don’t blame your anxiety on them. You already had that before the marital drama.”

The group snickered.

As the omega and alpha pair sat quietly under the early morning sky — heads bowed together, peaceful — as they waited for them to be over so they could carry on with their duties.

“So… how’d they make up?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hange turned around from peeking, smirking as they casually raised both hands—left hand forming a ring with their thumb and index finger, while the right index and middle fingers thrust through the circle.

A chorus of gasps followed.

“No way,” Sasha whispered, nearly choking on nothing.

Mikasa frowned, blinking slowly. “But… we don’t have a bed here.”

“As if a bed’s ever stopped anyone, sweetie,” Hange said, not even glancing back.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Armin muttered, mostly to himself.

That made Hange turn fully around, eyes glinting behind their glasses. “Look at that,” they said with a satisfied sigh. “Levi was right. The shy ones are the worst.”

They smirked. “And why, dear Armin, were you listening in the first place? Hm? You little voyeur.”

Armin froze, color rushing to his ears. “Wait—what?! No, I— That’s not what I—! I was trying to sleep!”

“What’s a voyeur?” Sasha asked, squinting curiously.

“Eh…” Hange shrugged. “A type of bread.”

Author’s Note 💔: Hey friends 💌 I’m not gonna lie, writing this chapter was bittersweet because… Tumblr nuked my blog. Five whole years of headcanons, over 200 posts, and I was this close to hitting 10k followers. And yeah, I’ve never been one to obsess over numbers—some fics did well, some didn’t—but what I truly treasured was the community we built together 🥺💕 I’ve gotten the sweetest asks over the years. One person told me they used to read my fics while pregnant and now they read them to their kid. Like, hello?? That kind of thing stays with you forever. Losing all of that without warning? It broke me. And apparently, I’m not alone—Reddit is full of people saying their years-old accounts were randomly deleted too. Support won’t answer, and (get this) I even got banned from the support page for just asking why my blog got taken down 🙃 But despite everything, I’m still here. People always asked me, “Will you keep writing after the manga ends? After the anime ends?” And my answer has always been: “I’ll keep doing this as long as it’s fun for me.” And guess what? It’s still fun. So here’s a 15k word chapter because apparently I cannot shut up 📝💀 If you’re looking for me, I’ve made a new (very improvised) tumblr: lucysarah1875 And I also have a lil discord server in case you want to hang out/chat/cry about Levi with me 😭 Just shoot me a message at lucysarahc on Discord and I’ll send you a fresh invite link since they expire faster than Tumblr’s mercy. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love, comments, and support you’ve given me. It means more than I can ever express T-T Okay okay, enough rambling. Enjoy the chapter 💕 — Lucy <3

Tag list! (Please, if you got this notification. I'll be using this blog until further notice): @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr

234 notes · View notes