MochiMeltMe

Above her, Levi cut through the sky in a blur of steel and gas, already redirecting toward the pure titan that had transformed in town. She trusted him to handle it. He always did. He would kill it quickly and regroup with her on the tarmac before the assassin could move.

Until—

Another crack of yellow light split the air.

The sky flashed a nauseating green.

And a second titan appeared near the tree line.

Thirty meters tall.

The shockwave nearly threw her off balance, the walls her anchors had sunk into began to rumble and crack. Windows exploded somewhere behind her as the first titan fell, disposed of by Levi. People screamed louder and more animalistically as terror was tearing through the harbor. Connie shot out from his hiding place in the foliage of the tall oaks and bolted towards the new threat. Another crack of yellow lightning jolted through the air. As y/n looked over her shoulder towards the commotion, she saw Levi rush towards it, changing his trajectory from the tarmac to the new threat.

Y/n growled in frustration. If they were to focus solely on their objective, countless lives would be lost. Their consciousness dictated their reactions—and because of that, the assassins would likely escape.

Except y/n wouldn't allow it.

At least three people are in on this…they have to be injecting people in real time.

Y/n shoved it all away, honing in on her only goal—capture the responsible party.

Get a grip.

Focus.

The assassin.

Where is he?

Her eyes flitted across the structures surrounding the runway, searching rooftops, tower windows, maintenance hangars, fuel stations. She forced herself to think like a killer again.

If I were taking the shot… where would I position myself?

High ground? Too obvious. Control tower? First place they'd check. Fuel depot? Blind spots, wind coverage, and plenty of exits.

Her breathing slowed instinctively despite the destruction around her. The old training crawled back into her muscles to her relief.

But that was also a part of the problem.

She hadn’t used her training like this in years. That version of herself had died after joining the scouts, when she shifted to killing titans instead of people.

Or at least she had tried to kill that part of her.

The world moved differently now, and since Eldia was thrown into the future, technology and techniques were shifting rapidly.

What type of training had these new-age assassins overcome? How much more had they hardened them? Starved them? Forced them to fight until their bones snapped and healed crooked? Tortured them and conditioned them to kill until there was no humanity left inside of them?

The assassin from the cabin had nearly killed her, despite her quick reactions and exhaustive efforts. His movements had been so precise and efficient, and his eyes had that glassy, hollow look that hers once used to possess. He moved and behaved like the pain had been carved right out of him.

And if he had only been one operative—

Her stomach lurched as she shot towards the fuel depot, adjusting her grip on her blades and moving through the smoke. She landed with a thud on her heels, sprinting fast, boots pounding against the tarmac while the massive titan's shadow swallowed half the runway behind her. Connie swarmed it, dodging its grip narrowly.

Then there was a flicker of movement that she just barely caught from the corner of her eye. Not panicked or rushing, they moved with control. On the far side of the runway near the refueling station, someone in dark gear stepped briefly into view before disappearing behind a transport vehicle.

Thats no civilian.

Y/n’s pulse quickened instantly.

Found you.

She drew her blade.

Don't kill them...nothing lethal.

She edged around the corner slowly, peering past stacked fuel barrels, slick with excess oil. She heard the sounds of metal clicking just ahead. The assassin was assembling her rifle methodically, crouched near the crates, snapping pieces together as if she’d done it a thousand times before.

For one terrible second, y/n saw herself.

Younger, meaner, half-starved, and trained to kill before she’d even learned how to live.

Her stomach twisted with regret, but she swallowed it down. There wasn’t room for hesitation anymore. She didn't have time nor option to take pity on the young woman. Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her blade. She briefly considered drawing her sidearm, but a bullet would be messy and far too unpredictable. Too much blood loss and a sloppy wound, she risked hitting an artery and killing the girl. They needed her alive long enough to answer questions.

So she narrowed her focus to one objective:

Her Achilles tendon. She would drop her, restrain her, and interrogate her later on.

Everything else vanished from her mind as she honed in on her new point of focus. She exploded forward like a bullet, boots hammering against the tarmac as she lunged from cover with her blade drawn.

Then something slammed into her from behind with impossible force. The impact drove the air from her lungs as she crashed face-first into the concrete. She barely had time to raise her forearms to her throat defensively before a wire bit viciously across the skin of her arms.

A garrot.

Great...just my luck.

Instinct took over. She jammed both forearms tighter between the wire and her neck just as it cinched down. The steel carved through her protective black gear, which took the brunt of the cutting, slightly opening hot lines across her forearms.

Thank god for good engineering...

“Don’t—!” her attacker barked sharply from behind her at the woman assassin who began to move in to help him. “Focus on our targets. I’ll handle her.”

Rage detonated inside her chest.

Y/n planted her knees beneath herself and threw her full weight forward without inclination. Her attacker stumbled with her momentum, losing footing on the pavement. The wire tore violently across her forearm on the way down, peeling skin open in a white-hot streak that made her vision blur momentarily.

Good.

Let it hurt.

Now I'm fucking mad.

“The hell you will, you little bastard,” she snarled, voice raw as she twisted beneath him with sudden violence, able to shove him off of herself. The years she’d spent trying to bury this part of herself vanished in an instant. There was no longer any humanity left to her.

Only the will to live.

I have to make it home to my son...I promised him. I promised Levi–

We promised each other.

She stood to her feet taking out her side arm a fraction too late, her attacker already had his drawn, and fired on her. The bullet hit her upper thigh. She rolled low and tackled him down, quickly grabbing his hand where he held the gun and smashing it into the ground, breaking his bones.

She looked up at his face. His orangish hair was plastered to his pale skin, and his narrow eyes were burning with a familiar air of hateful conviction.

It was like staring at a rotten copy of Floch Forster.

“Forster…” she seethed, locking both fists into his hair before slamming his skull into the pavement with a sickening crack. “I’ll enjoy killing you almost as much as I enjoyed watching your brother die.”

A sharp hand suddenly tangled into her hair and ripped her backward hard enough to wrench her neck.

Y/n snarled bitterly, immediately grabbing at the smaller wrists restraining her. The girl was deceptively strong, clinging to her from behind as y/n twisted violently, trying to throw her off balance.

“We don’t have time for this!” the girl shouted toward Franco. “I shot out the fuel tank on the plane, but the Grice's can still escape if we don’t move now!”

Franco staggered upright with a wheezing grunt, his broken hand clutched tightly over his chest. With the other, he reached into his cargo pocket and drew a knife.

“Just hold her still,” he spat. “I’ll cut her throat and we’ll move. Don’t feel like risking a shot if I miss and hit you instead.”

Y/n bucked and kicked beneath the girl’s hold, screaming at Franco as he approached. Everything was happening too fast. And yet somehow, she saw every detail in horrible clarity. The shine of the blade, the blood running down his fingers, and the slight limp in his gait.

Maybe this is it.

Maybe this is where I die.

Franco crouched, reaching for her jaw to expose her throat when a cable screamed past her face.

It hooked clean through his leg. Ice-burst gas exploded through the air. Then Levi hit the ground like a storm, ripping the blade away from Franco's hand and pounding into his face, blade still gripped in his hand.

A heavy thud sounded behind y/n, and warm liquid sprayed across the back of her neck. The hands in her hair loosened slightly. She turned just enough to see the girl’s body collapse beside her—headless. The severed head bounced once before rolling beneath a cargo crate, blood pouring across the concrete in thick waves around y/n’s arms.

She ripped herself free and scrambled backward on her elbows until her spine slammed into a wooden crate.

Her eyes shot toward Levi.

He now stood over Franco with a terrifying stillness, blade pressed against his throat so precisely it barely dimpled the skin. Steam curled off his clothes from fresh titan blood, but he had beheaded the female assassin so quickly that none of her blood had time to land on him.

He tilted his head slightly.

“You know…” he said quietly, pushing the blade just enough to open a thin line across Franco’s throat, “if my aim had been a few inches higher, you’d’ve ended up exactly like your idiot brother.”

Franco froze, panting wildly.

Levi’s mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile, but certainly possessed a rageful and psychotic quality.

“ODM anchor through the throat.” His voice stayed calm. “It's an ugly way to die. Tears everything open on the way out.”

A faint chuckle left him as steam drifted from his gear, evaporating into the air.

“Lucky for you, I only took your leg.” He pressed the blade a little deeper. “So your esophagus gets to stay where it belongs. For now.”

Franco tried to speak, but the movement only forced more blood down his neck.

Levi’s expression flattened instantly.

“Did I say you could talk?”

The blade dug in another fraction.

“On your knees.”

Above them came the sharp crack of ODM gas.

Connie landed heavily beside her, breathing hard enough to shake his shoulders. His eyes immediately dropped to the blood soaking through her thigh.

“You’re hurt…” he said.

“Yeah,” y/n hissed through gritted teeth, shoving trembling hands against the gunshot wound. “No shit, Sherlock.” Despite her injuries, y/n still found the energy to use her newest favorite phrase since discovering modern Marlean literature—and the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

“You’re insufferable…even when you’re injured," Connie mumbled, looking her over to identify her wounds and their severity.

“Levi…she’s hit in the leg,” he announced, watching anxiously as Levi finished tying Franco’s wrists and ankles together before shoving him harshly onto his side.

Levi turned immediately, dropping beside y/n and nudging her shaking hands away from the wound.

“Move.”

She peeled her blood-slick palms back, relieved when blood didn’t immediately begin spurting from the hole in her thigh. She was still bleeding badly, but it wasn't arterial.

“Onyankopon!” Levi barked.

Just then, the plane door creaked open.

Onyankopon stepped carefully down onto the tarmac before reaching back toward the doorway to help another hooded figure descend behind him. Y/n leaned her head back against the crate with a weak laugh.

“Oh, Armin…” she sighed as Levi’s hand clamped tighter over her thigh. “Always hiding your little surprises…”

“Someone had to fly the plane,” Onyankopon smiled as he knelt beside her with a combat med kit in hand. “And seriously, Your Highness, we have to stop meeting while you’re actively dying.”

She physically cringed at her formal title. Then she saw him pulling out a packet of kaolin-coated gauze, and groaned.

“Oh, fuck no.”

Levi snatched the packet from Onyankopon’s hand before she could protest further and ripped the foil open with his teeth.

“I’m warning you now, it’s going to be bad.” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah…” she breathed shakily, already trying to brace herself. “Just get it over with fast. Please.”

Without asking, she grabbed Connie’s hand so hard his fingers cracked audibly.

“Okay—ow—Jesus—” Connie hissed, crouching down in front of her anyway. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, not him.”

“Wait.”

Connie suddenly leaned sideways, digging into the med kit before grabbing another pack of QuikClot and tossing it toward the hooded figure standing nearby with their back turned.

“Yelena, deal with his wounds,” Connie said, jerking his head toward Franco writhing on the pavement. “Can’t let him bleed out before we get answers.”

“Yelena? Why the fuck is she—”

Her words broke apart into a strangled scream as Levi shoved the gauze directly into the bullet wound. Pain exploded through her body so violently that she nearly blacked out. She lurched forward with a cry, abandoning Connie’s hand entirely to fist both hands into his short hair instead, yanking hard enough to nearly drag him down with her, hugging him in tightly as if she could use him to scooch away.

“Jesus Christ!” Connie screeched. “What happened to squeezing my hand?!”

“Shut the fuck UP!” she screamed back immediately, tears pouring uncontrollably down her face. “Ow—ow—holy shit—FUCK—!”

Levi ignored every word. His jaw stayed tight as he packed the gauze deeper with merciless efficiency despite the way her leg shook violently beneath his hands.

“At this point, just let me die!” she sobbed, trying unsuccessfully to twist away from him as he worked.

“Not happening.”

Levi barely looked up.

“Connie, hold her still.”

“Connie don’t you fucking touch me!” she shrieked instantly.

“Sorry!” he yelped anyway, grabbing her lower leg at the shin before she could accidentally knee Levi in the face. Her muscles spasmed uncontrollably beneath his grip. Every instinct she had screamed at her to crawl away from the pain. Instead, she settled for repeatedly punching Connie in the head while Levi continued forcing the clotting gauze into the wound.

Finally, Levi stopped packing it.

Y/n slumped back against the crate, trembling so hard her teeth chattered, and sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaked and stained her cheeks.

But Levi immediately repositioned himself, interlocking his hands before driving hard pressure directly over the wound. Fresh agony ripped another scream from her throat. He leaned more weight into it without hesitation, holding steady pressure while blood soaked thickly into the gauze beneath his palms.

“Please stop, baby—it hurts so much…you’re hurting me.” she begged brokenly, looking up at Levi deliriously —saying anything to make him stop.

The expression on his face made her stomach twist worse than the pain.

He looked miserable.

He wasn't revealing his panic, but she could tell he was deeply, visibly distressed for her beneath the strict control he kept wrapped around himself. His brows were drawn hard together, and his eyes searched her face with contrition.

“Breathe,” Connie urged desperately as she held her breath in front of him, turning beet red. “Y/n, come on, breathe—”

“You’re not dying from one shitty gunshot wound after everything else you’ve survived,” Levi said firmly, maintaining crushing pressure against the wound. “So quit scaring the hell out of everyone and breathe properly.”

“I—I’m trying…” she gasped, beginning to hyperventilate.

Whines kept slipping out of her throat, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. She clutched weakly at the hem of Levi’s cloak in a desperate attempt to ground herself in the feeling of the time-worn fabric while pain radiated through her entire leg in violent waves.

Something in Levi’s face tightened painfully at the sound, and his eyes flicked shut briefly before refocusing on the wound.

“Just a few more minutes,” he muttered, voice lower now. “Then we move you to the truck and get you to a hospital. I just need the bleeding to slow first.”

Y/n nodded shakily, though focusing was nearly impossible with Franco screaming somewhere nearby while Yelena treated his injuries. Every noise felt like a knife directly into her skull.

Finally she grimaced.

“Can we make him shut his ugly mug?” she hissed weakly. “He’s pissing me the fuck off.”

For the first time since she’d been shot, Levi let out a short breath of a laugh.

“There she is,” he murmured.

He slowly eased the pressure off her leg. After checking the wound one final time, he slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back before lifting her against his chest. Y/n immediately curled into him on instinct, clutching weakly at the front of his chest while he stood.

“Easy,” he muttered quietly. “I’ve got you.”

Connie sprinted for the driver’s seat of a nearby truck while Onyankopon and Yelena hauled Franco roughly into the bed like a rag doll. Levi climbed in beside y/n without ever loosening his hold on her, keeping one bloodstained hand firmly pressed over the packed wound as the truck tore across the tarmac toward the nearest hospital.

Y/n peeked weakly over the edge of the truck bed, taking one last look at the headless female assassin sprawled across the bloodstained pavement. She felt an unexpected sense of grief twist in her chest, tightening her throat. But beneath it she felt relief. Crushing, overwhelming relief that this had not been her fate.

All of the missions.

All the times she took life from someone else .

This should have been her years ago. She felt thankful that Erwin saved her life. She was glad that somewhere along the way, with the last man she ever expected to love, she had escaped her past and learned how to live again.

The truck sped farther down the road, the corpse shrinking into the distance, but y/n couldn’t tear her eyes away from the girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty years old.

She probably was a lot like y/n.

No mother.

No father.

Nobody to miss her.

The thought continued to linger in her mind, heavier than the pain in her body.

A dull ache sat behind her eyes. Her mouth was dry. Her neck hurt from the angle she'd fallen asleep in. Even breathing felt sluggish.

She peeled one eye open with visible effort.

Fading evening light spilled through the curtains in thin strips across the bed. She groaned softly into the pillow, face scrunching in misery. She immediately noticed the pain from the stitches in her arm as she shifted, a sharp ache pulling through the muscle and forcing a quiet hiss from between her teeth.

Next, she became aware of the deep aching soreness Levi had left between her legs, the lingering reminder making her sink further into the mattress with a light groan. Reminded of him, she reached her good arm out across the sheets, her fingertips brushing gently against Levi’s warm skin beneath the thin blanket. Careful not to disturb him, she let her hand linger there softly, not wanting to wake him before he was ready. She peered over at him, flat on his back—

And clutching his crotch like a dragon protecting its treasure trove.

Y/n stared at him blearily for several long seconds, trying to process what she was seeing through the fog in her brain.

One hand rested beneath the pillow, accentuating the strong line of his arm as his head lay against it comfortably.

The other was aggressively cupped over his dick. Like someone was moments away from breaking into the room to steal it. Even asleep, his fingers twitched tighter every now and then, his brow faintly pinched in suspicion.

She gave another exhausted blink.

"Look at you…” she croaked, rubbing her eyes, voice ruined from sleep. “Protecting your pride and joy.”

Levi didn’t move.

Only grunted quietly through his nose before giving his crotch a good scratch, and dragging the blanket higher with the unconscious stubbornness of an irritated cat.

Y/n let out a tired laugh that immediately turned into a groan because even laughing felt like too much work after that nap. Her entire body felt feverishly warm and weak. She wanted water. She wanted to sleep another ten hours. She wanted to rewind time and never take the nap in the first place.

Her eyes drifted shut again against her will.

Then cracked back open when Levi shifted beside her.

His hand tightened protectively again.

“Oh my God,” she whispered hoarsely. “You think somebody’s gonna take it?”

Levi’s face tightened faintly in his sleep like he’d heard her somewhere far away.

Her thoughts began to drift to Historia and Troup, wondering where they were. Slowly, she sat up, forcing her legs over the edge of the mattress before standing weakly. She sluggishly made her way over to where her clean clothes had been folded neatly and pulled on a loose gray shirt and a pair of trousers, lazily neglecting to button them properly.

She slipped on a pair of socks—not even bothering with her boots—and glanced back toward the bed. Levi remained dead asleep, one hand still protectively cupped over himself beneath the blanket.

Y/n smiled softly to herself.

Then she quietly left him to defend his penis in his dreams.

She wandered the familiar hallways without a thought, her feet carrying her softly to the common room. She heard their laughter from down the hall and smiled as she pushed the door open.

Inside, Connie and Jean sat across from one another, a deck of cards and a bottle between them as they argued over the logistics of tomorrow’s mission. Historia lightly rocked a sleeping Troup near the fire, while Mikasa lingered nearby, watching with quiet scrutiny and occasionally turning her nose up at the way Historia held him.

Armin sat hunched over the coffee table beside Sean, papers scattered between them as they reviewed the plan once again.

“It has to be perfect—we can’t afford mistakes...” Armin muttered, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than anyone else.

Historia looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, immediately softening when she saw y/n lingering weakly in the doorway.

"There you are...feeling better?" she asked softly, standing to hand Troup over to y/n who already had her arms outstretched.

"Yes...so much better," she lied, taking Troup, who grunted softly, traces of milk still on the corners of his lips.

“He cried pretty much the whole time you were asleep...teething?” Historia asked quizzically.

“More than likely...he chews on his fists all day now,” y/n muttered, bouncing him gently in her arms.

Troup stirred almost immediately, sensing his next meal close by. His sleepy eyes slowly blinked open, peering up at her with Levi’s storm-gray stare that was already set deep into his tiny face. Even half-asleep, his features pulled into a faintly irritated scowl.

“Looking just like his dad... indefinitely irritated.” Historia smiled, shaking her head at Troup. “Speaking of which...” Historia trailed off, clearly insinuating toward their earlier tensions.

“He might hold a little grudge for a while, but we made up...”

Connie snorted loudly from across the room.

“Oh we know, believe me, we all heard you ‘making up’.”

Y/n shot him a threatening glare. Jean chortled into his glass while Armin and Sean hardly even acknowledged her presence, both still bent over their planning documents.

"Shut up, Connie, you perverted little worm," she shot at him.

Mikasa sighed.

“Well, it is hard not to hear you two,” she defended Connie, who gave a thankful grin. “This time we couldn't tell if you were making up or killing each other.”

"Mikasa!" y/n hollered, surprised at her.

“That’s rich coming from you two,” Connie shot Mikasa’s direction, his eyes shifting to Jean as well. “I’ve heard less screaming during Titan attacks.”

“I can’t help that I’m a rigorous lover,” Jean countered with a shrug, like that somehow excused everything. "Don't worry y/n, sounds like the singles are jealous that they aren't getting any action."

Armin glanced quickly at Historia, whose pale skin had already begun turning pink, before hastily forcing his attention back down to the papers scattered across the table.

Troup suddenly began whining loudly in y/n’s arms, rooting impatiently against her shirt in a determined search for another dram of milk.

"How long ago did he eat?" y/n asked Historia.

"Thirty minutes ago." Mikasa shot a disapproving look at Historia. "He only had four ounces, it's like she wants him to starve..."

Historia scoffed at her, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “At five months, they can go three to four hours between a feeding, thank you.” Historia finished, crossing her arms and staring at Mikasa in disbelief. "I do have two children of my own, you know." she said, annoyed.

“Yeah, they’re heirs to the throne but look like war refugees,” Mikasa shot back flatly. “Do you at least let them have whole milk with their supper?”

“You know what—”

“Okay, enough, you two...” Y/n interrupted tiredly, bouncing Troup gently as his fussing worsened. “Historia, come with me to the study. We can talk while I nurse him.”

Historia rose immediately, looking more than ready to remove herself from Mikasa’s presence.

Once seated in the study, Y/n carefully pulled her shirt aside and freed one breast. Troup immediately latched on without hesitation, clearly experienced enough now to need no guidance at all.

Y/n listened calmly as Historia rambled on about all the things they hadn’t been able to discuss over the past few months apart. She spoke about her children’s studies, new charity initiatives, upcoming banquet plans—all pleasant things to hear about.

Still, there was clearly only one thing on y/n’s mind.

“See, I didn’t even know nipple confusion was a thing until my second child when—” Historia paused abruptly after catching y/n’s sly grin. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked suspiciously, crossing her arms.

“Don’t bullshit me. How long?” Y/n asked with a knowing smile, pulling an increasingly angry Troup away from her chest long enough to burp him.

Historia froze.

Then, despite herself, a small smile flickered across her face.

“It started right after you had Troup and they got back from the McCarty’s.”

Y/n hummed softly, shifting Troup to her other breast with practiced ease.

“I mean...I want you to be happy, Christie.”

“Oh no,” Historia sighed dramatically, already standing and pacing toward the window. “Here we go.”

“He only has a year and some change left,” y/n said quietly. “I just don’t want to watch you go through that kind of grief if we can’t break the curse.”

"We will break it." Historia said with finality.

y/n shook her head.

"Sometimes I don't know...I worry about whether my son will live to adulthood. Or die at thirteen," she said quietly, tears threatening to creep up as she looked down at her nursing infant. "I just don't want us foolishly riding on the faint hope that we can break this curse."

Historia’s expression softened as she stared out the window.

“I know,” she admitted quietly. “But despite the odds, I can’t help but imagine a future with him, y/n.”

Historia sighed helplessly, her gaze drifting back out toward the city lights below.

“He’s widowed. I’m divorced. I need someone beside me to help rule and...” A small, almost embarrassed smile crossed her face. “I can’t help it. I love him…but—we’re just trying to keep it casual for now...”

Y/n immediately snorted.

“Armin? Casual?” she laughed quietly. “I’d be shocked if he hadn’t already bought you a ring.”

Historia shrugged one shoulder innocently.

“He is incredibly good in bed,” she replied with a sly smile over her shoulder, trying to lighten the air in the room. “I’d be okay with having that every night for the rest of my life…”

Y/n rolled her eyes instantly.

“Yeah and I can go my whole life without hearing about my childhood friend’s sex life.”

She burst into quiet laughter while y/n adjusted Troup against her chest as he swatted clumsily at her with one chubby hand.

“Just be careful before you end up with another one of these,” y/n warned teasingly, nudging Troup gently.

“Did I mention it’s big?”

“This conversation dies here, or I’m joining the Yeagerists,” y/n scowled. “And that’s the last time I ever want to hear about Armin’s dick, its proportions, or any of its accomplishments.”

“Whose penis are you discussing in here?”

Levi’s voice cut through the room as he quietly shut the study door behind him.

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin.

Troup startled violently in her arms before immediately bursting into shrill cries.

“God, Levi!” y/n gasped, clutching her chest. “Care to announce yourself next time? You scared me to death!"

Levi looked entirely unbothered by this information. If anything, he almost seemed amused.

“Give him here before he blows a lung.”

Y/n held him out, and he settled the second Levi tucked him against his chest and began rocking him gently.

Y/n stared at them in betrayal.

“Oh, okay,” she scoffed. “That’s the thanks I get for lending him my boobs.”

Historia shrugged dramatically.

“That’s just the way it is,” she sighed. “Mothers suffer. Fathers get worshipped for existing...”

Levi snorted quietly while Troup blinked up at him with complete adoration, chubby hand reaching for his chin.

Historia smoothed down her skirt before glancing toward the door.

“Well,” she said with a sly smile, “I’ll leave you two to it. I happen to have a very attractive military strategist waiting for me.”

“Unfortunately, I know entirely too much about that military strategist now,” y/n muttered.

Historia only laughed before she slipped out the door, leaving Levi and Y/n alone in the quiet study with their son.

“Well...” Levi muttered, glancing sideways at y/n. “Guess you got the confirmation you wanted.”

“And much more that I didn’t,” she huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

Levi sat beside her, their shoulders brushing lightly as they both fell silent, absentmindedly staring toward the bookshelf across the room while Troup babbled happily in Levi’s arms, blowing little spit bubbles between sleepy noises.

“We have to stop this,” y/n said suddenly, her voice cracking.

The shift in her tone immediately gave away where her thoughts had wandered—back to the same place they always went.

Levi looked over at her quietly.

“We have to break this curse,” she whispered. “I can’t watch my son die like that. I keep thinking about Bertholdt... about watching Armin inherit him...” Her voice faltered.

“Stop,” Levi said firmly, reaching over and taking her hand before she could spiral any further. y/n looked up at him.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “I told you from the beginning—we’ll stop it. I don’t care what it costs.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him before slowly nodding and leaning forward into a soft kiss.

The room fell quiet again afterward, save for Troup’s sleepy babbling and the crackling fireplace nearby. For just a brief moment, wrapped in the calm of the night and the warmth of each other, it almost felt like the world itself had stopped turning.

Levi rested his forehead lightly against hers.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he whispered. “Big day tomorrow.”

Y/n nodded in agreement, following him back to their room. Before long, the three of them had settled into bed once more, the quiet sound of Troup’s tiny snores mixing with Levi’s louder ones in the darkness. Somehow, the familiar noise soothed her completely, eventually lulling Y/n into a far more peaceful sleep.

When Y/n woke again, she found Levi sitting at the edge of the bed with Troup cradled carefully in his arms. He was whispering something softly to him—too quiet for her to make out through the thick haze of sleep—but the moment she stirred, his attention shifted toward her.

“Morning,” he said quietly, one finger trapped inside Troup’s tiny closed fist.

“And to you...” she murmured through a yawn. “Here, I’ll feed him.”

Levi handed the baby over carefully, and the room fell into a comfortable silence while Troup ate. The only sounds were his tiny suckles and sleepy little grunts.

“What were you two discussing?” she asked softly, nodding toward Troup with a faint smile.

Levi huffed quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Just telling him some things he needed to know.” He said softly. “Like that we’re coming back home to him.”

Y/n nodded slowly as silence settled between them again.

“Putting it into existence,” he muttered, meeting her gaze directly.

Her expression faltered slightly.

“I don’t want you to go,” Levi said suddenly, his face tightening with quiet concern.

“I know,” she replied softly. “But I can’t stay behind. We’re already stretched thin with people we can trust. Armin, Jean, and Mikasa have to receive Gabi and Falco. That only leaves me, you, and Connie.”

Levi sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’ll go smoothly. The plan’s careful...” he trailed off, though she could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes already, searching for every possible point of failure.

A soft knock interrupted his train of thought.

“Y/n? Are you decent?” Historia called gently through the door. “I’m here to take Troup for you.”

Levi stood and crossed the room, opening the door to let Historia inside.

Y/n carefully transferred the now sleepy baby into Historia’s arms alongside the bottles she’d pumped earlier in the night. She leaned down to kiss Troup’s little forehead before finally letting him go, her chest suddenly feeling unbearably heavy.

“Hey,” Levi approached her gently once Historia had vanished back into the hallway. “Look at me.”

Y/n glanced up reluctantly.

“He’ll be okay,” Levi murmured, immediately noticing the fear creeping into her expression. “We still have a job to do. Focus on the mission.”

Y/n crossed her eyes briefly and clicked her tongue at him.

“Easier said than done...” she muttered, gaze dropping toward the floor.

Levi stepped closer, taking her chin gently between his fingers until she looked at him again.

“We have to keep fighting,” he said firmly. “Nobody else is going to break this curse for him except us."

Y/n nodded slowly, working her bottom lip between her teeth until Levi reached up and pulled it free with his thumb.

“I told you about that,” he murmured teasingly before pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth. “Don’t bite those pretty lips. They belong to me.”

She laughed softly at that, turning her head to press a small kiss into the center of his palm.

“Promise me you’ll come back safely with me, and I’ll reward you with them,” she teased, smoothing a hand playfully over his chest.

Levi’s mouth twitched faintly at the corners.

“Now that,” he murmured dryly, “sounds like motivation.”

He leaned his forehead briefly against hers before sighing softly through his nose.

“I promise,” he said quietly. “I’ll come back with you.”

With that, the two of them stepped out into the hallway together and headed toward Jean’s office.

At Port Paradis, hidden among the rooftops, Y/n fumbled nervously with her wedding band. A few yards away, high above her position near the skyline, Levi remained perched behind the tall steeple of an old building, nearly blending into the dark silhouette of the stonework itself.

Y/n tugged anxiously at the collar of her black ODM uniform, suddenly hyperaware of the fabric against her skin. The harness straps felt too tight. Too heavy. Her pulse throbbed unpleasantly beneath them.

Her palms were slick with sweat as she gripped her sidearm in one hand while the other rested against the blade housing of her ODM gear, her fingers twitching with restless anticipation.

She wondered when her nerves had gotten this bad. Every mission used to sharpen her. Now it felt like her mind tried to split itself in two—half panic, half precision.

So she forced the nervous energy into observation instead.

Her eyes swept carefully across the rooftops Armin had mapped out earlier, searching for even the slightest indication of movement. Something shifting in the shadows, a glint of metal or even the faintest silhouette of a rifle barrel.

Anything.

According to Armin, those buildings provided the cleanest line of sight to the tarmac below, where the small aircraft would soon land carrying what the enemy assumed was Falco and Gabi. If the assassin was competent—and they had to assume they were—they’d take the shot the moment the doors opened, and someone stepped out.

Which meant they would only have seconds to react.

Y/n adjusted slightly against the roof tiles beneath her stomach, ignoring the dull pull from the healing stitches in her arm as she scanned the skyline again.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing but the usual bustle of commerce and chatter drifting up from below.

Her gaze flicked downward toward the treeline bordering the airstrip. Hidden among the dense branches, Connie crouched low against the trunk of a tree, binoculars raised as he searched the perimeter just as intensely as she and Levi were.

They’d already discussed the possibility that the shooter might work from ground level instead of the rooftops—or worse, that there could be more than one assassin working in coordination, taking multiple angles at the plane.

That was the problem.

They wouldn’t truly know where the threats were positioned until the plane actually touched down.

She swallowed hard as she saw the glint of an approaching aircraft in the distance. She checked her watch.

Right on time.

She looked up at Levi, who pointed two fingers downward at her, holding them there.

Stay in position.

She lifted the binoculars to her eyes, focusing on Connie’s position in the treeline below. Even from the distance, she could tell he was already watching her, waiting for instruction.

y/n gave a quick two-finger signal downward—the same as Levi had given her.

Connie answered immediately, fisting his hand and waving it forward in a knocking motion to let her know he understood. They went back to scanning the town below and the terrain beyond.

The plane was closer now, growing larger with every passing second. The roar of the engines reached her ears, and Y/n took a shaky breath, tightening her grip around the handle of her blade.

Try to take them alive...we need information, Armin had instructed.

Easy for him to say from five miles up the coastline in some isolated cove known only to the handful of Scouts who had first discovered Port Paradis after the fall of the Pure Titans.

Y/n steadied herself with one final breath as the plane touched down on the tarmac below, wheels screeching violently as they hit the runway.

The engines whined loudly before gradually beginning to die.

One of the Scouts positioned by Levi moved toward the aircraft, lowering the steps carefully.

Y/n crouched lower against the warm rooftop, blades drawn tightly now in both hands, ready to move at the slightest indication of danger while her eyes continued desperately combing the surrounding rooftops for any sign of the assassin.

Nothing.

The plane door opened.

Still nothing.

Then—

A violent electrical crack split through the air.

Screaming erupted almost instantly afterward, shrill cries of panic, voices screaming for help.

Y/n’s head snapped toward the town square, and her blood ran cold. Because towering in the middle of the street stood a twenty-meter Titan, its massive hand curled around a screaming civilian as it shoved the person headfirst down its throat.

Y/n gasped in stunned horror.

“Holy fuck...” she breathed in disbelief.

And suddenly she understood.

They hadn’t come prepared for this.

They had walked directly into a coordinated attack.

“It was a group effort… believe me,” Armin said, glancing back at Sean and Jean. Then his expression shifted, just slightly. “And honestly, I’m not sure you should go—given your injuries.”

His gaze fixed on her gashed forehead that had finally clotted over, then he slowly motioned to her shoulder and her various yellow-black bruises from the man handling the previous night when she had saved Moira and Anya from certain death.

“You’ve barely eaten. Barely slept. And you haven’t had any time to heal,” he went on, much more serious now. “You push yourself too hard—and those stitches in your shoulder will tear right back open--"

“Yeah,” she muttered, flexing her hand like she was testing her own limits. “I gathered that much when I woke up feeling like I got trampled by a damn titan. Now, shut up. Before you get the guard dog going..." she shot a gaze over to Levi, who wore a seething scowl, scoffing at her with his arms crossed, one foot propped against the wall at his back.

“He’s right,” Levi said, not even looking at her at first.

Y/n let out a dry laugh.

His eyes flicked up at her sharply. “You’re not going. Not like this,” he paused, searching her face, which clearly said otherwise.

“Stay here and heal. Moira and Historia can keep an eye on you. Troup needs you in one piece.”

y/n scoffed now, glaring over at her husband.

“You think I’m just going to sit around here playing house?” she went on, voice low and edged with an air of annoyance. “While you all go running off into whatever suicidal mess he cooked up this time? No. Troup is safe here with Historia at H.Q. I'm going. It's final.”

“It’s not suicidal—"

“It is,” she cut in, sharper now. “It always is with you. Remember when you burnt yourself to a fucking crisp? Yeah. I'm going.”

Armin exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be there. You’re not at full strength, and if something goes wrong—”

“When something goes wrong,” she corrected flatly.

“…then I can’t account for you, either.”

This only pissed her off further. Her expression flared with irritation. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You don’t need to account for me,” she said, her voice dropping in tone, her words pushed through gritted teeth as she rubbed at her throbbing temple. “I’ve never needed that. You all, however, have always needed me to account for you.” She finished with overconfidence.

Levi let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.

She ignored it.

“I have the most training when it comes to killing—”

Levi pushed off the wall, already opening his mouth to correct her—

“HUMANS—” she snapped loudly, cutting him off sharply. She pointed at him without even looking, like she could feel the argument forming before he said a word.

“Geez, let me finish,” she snapped tiredly. “Some of us specialize in killing humans, unlike Captain Humanity’s Strongest over here with his fifty-eight Titan kills and god complex.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed immediately. Connie snorted into his hand, rolling his eyes at her.

“Did we forget that I was an assassin? The very person we're targeting essentially has the same training as me," she went on. “I can deal with other assassins, as I just proved last night. And I’ve been in much worse condition than this and still functioned just fine.”

Levi shook his head once, slow and unimpressed, stepping forward.

“That’s not something to be proud of,” he said flatly. “It’s a habit. And a stupid one. You have never known when to stop."

She flared at him.

“You’re absolutely right,” she shot back at him, earning herself a long, condemning stare that all but promised consequences later. “Stopping, relenting, or otherwise failing and giving up just wasn’t part of my training docket, long before I joined the scouts.”

She eyed everyone in the room like she was fully prepared to take on every last one of them in an argument if she had to.

“Did we also forget that I’m the Crown Princess?” she shot back, eyes sweeping the room. “None of you is allowed to challenge my authority.”

A collective groan rippled through the room.

“Oh, here we go…” Connie muttered.

“Mommy’s pulling the trump card again,” Mikasa said dryly, bouncing Troup lightly in her arms. She glanced down at him with mock disapproval.

“Do you lot always argue like a flock of cackling hens? I must say, it’s very entertaining…” Sean chuckled, stating the obvious while also gathering the collective gaze of the old Levi Squad. “Let the woman go. She looks perfectly capable.”

y/n looked down at herself. skin marred with bruises, stitches throbbing under a makeshift sling, and scratches and cuts from the previous night's struggle. She nodded at Sean with a proud smile, her ego puffed up.

"Ehh... 'perfectly' maybe isn't the right word..." Jean stated with concern, taking in her shoddy appearance as well.

Levi’s head turned slowly, fixing on Sean with a punishing stare.

“Do you always sound like Erwin… tch,” he muttered, his voice teeming with irritation. "You'll only encourage her...just like your damn uncle did.”

Y/n pushed herself upright despite the protest in her shoulder.

“I’m going,” she said firmly. “Stop talking. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

The room grumbled in annoyance, forced to accept the reality of the situation. She had climbed from the very bottom of the Scouts to First Sergeant, and now stood above them all as their ruler--directly under Historia. None of them truly had the authority to challenge her. Their resistance simmered bitterly before fading into a reclusive silence—one that only broke when the door creaked open, gathering their attention.

Historia stepped inside.

Y/n stilled for half a second, watching her.

The difference was impossible to ignore. The girl who once shrank from her own shadow was gone. In her place stood a queen with her shoulders back, chin lifted, and her presence absolutely undeniable. Ever since she’d broken free from Aruel’s hold, there was a quiet strength to her.

“Am I interrupting?” Historia asked, her voice light and meager as always, scanning the room and giving everyone a soft smile.

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” y/n replied sarcastically, gesturing lazily toward the room. “Just reminding everyone where we stand as of tomorrow.”

Levi scoffed at her, not knowing whether it was her sarcasm or delirium from lack of sleep that was speaking through her.

“No—” Armin started. He scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking his chair back. "Never—I mean—of course not!" He rushed to pull out a chair for her beside himself, motioning to it with his eyes. She met his gaze--only for a moment, a blush traveled quickly to her cheeks.

“For you,” he added, quieter now.

Y/n’s brow twitched.

“…Thank you,” she said, softer than before.

She stepped forward, and Armin held the chair steady, hand still resting against the back. He didn’t sit, not until she did. Only then did he settle back into the chair next to her, stiff, and nervous.

Levi shot y/n a look, which she returned in earnest. They both shared the thought without needing to say it out loud.

These two are definitely fucking...

Y/n slowly leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing just a fraction as they moved between them. Armin caught her gaze and swallowed hard. His shoulders were tighter now, and his posture was just a little too controlled. His hand lingered near the edge of the table like he didn’t quite know where to put it.

And Historia, for all her composure—

Was very carefully not looking at him.

Levi cleared his throat.

"Sean, you can brief the Queen about the layout of your and Armin's plan." He looked back and forth between Historia and Armin, suspiciously. "I am taking my stubborn wife—" he shot her a piercing glare. "—to bed. She needs rest for tomorrow."

Connie whistled low. Jean raised his eyebrows, looking down, arms crossed, as he held in a giggle. Levi looked for half a second like he would crack their skulls together like eggs.

"You," He pointed at y/n. "Let's go. No arguing."

Y/n rolled her eyes, pushing herself up with a strained breath. The movement was slower than she liked; her body protested lightly as she made her way toward where Historia sat. She rose to her feet to quickly embrace her—hoping she wouldn’t fall.

“God, y/n… what did you do now?” she scowled, pulling her into a careful hug, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.

Y/n let herself lean in just for a second.

“I could ask you the same, sister…” she murmured against her ear. She pulled back slightly, giving her a very pointed look with her brow raised. Historia flushed red immediately.

Ah.

There it was.

“It’s good to see you, little Christie,” y/n added lightly, using her old nickname she had given her when they first met. “We’ve got a lot to discuss… and a lot to catch up on later tonight—after I’ve had some rest.”

Her gaze dipped briefly toward Armin.

“Uhm—yes,” Historia stammered, recovering quickly but not fast enough. “We do. And don’t worry about Troup for a while. Just… eat and rest. Please, you’re too hard on yourself.”

Y/n smiled softly and nodded. Mikasa scoffed under her breath, adjusting Troup in her arms with a look that clearly said 'no one is taking him from me anytime soon.'

“Thank you,” y/n said.

“Tch. Move already,” Levi muttered, stepping in and catching her good hand, leading her toward the door without waiting for permission.

“Keep your pants on,” she shot back, throwing a grin over her shoulder—earning a round of quiet chuckles.

Levi didn’t laugh. He didn’t slow down either. He just dragged her out into the hall like he’d already decided the conversation was over.

In Levi's old room at HQ, his lecture didn’t end.

Not even close.

He kept yapping the entire time—grumbling under his breath about recklessness, stupidity, and her “self-destructive need to play martyr” as he tugged his boots off with sharp, irritated movements.

Y/n rolled her eyes from where she stood at the edge of the bed.

“You done?” she muttered tiredly.

“Nope.”

“Tch," she clicked her tongue sarcastically. "Course not...”

Levi shot her a look before stepping between her knees and pushing her backwards onto the mattress with a firm hand to her shoulder.

“Stay still,” he demanded.

“You’re bossy,” she huffed.

“And you’re bleeding through your bandages again.”

That shut her up, just barely. He sat beside her with another annoyed sigh, carefully undoing the wrappings around her stabbed shoulder. His fingers were rougher than a medic’s would’ve been, but they were still careful in that irritatingly attentive way he had always taken with her since they met. The moment the bandages peeled back, his expression darkened at her; he knitted his brow together at her in utter annoyance.

“See?” he muttered. “You pulled on the stitches.”

“It’s barely open.”

“It’s open.”

She sighed dramatically, leaning her head back against the headboard, crossing her feet. “You just worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry at all. That’s your fucking problem.”

His fingertips pressed lightly near the wound, checking the damage. Y/n hissed softly through her teeth, then released a bubble of air out at him, blowing his hair back playfully.

Levi’s eyes flicked up immediately.

“…Does it hurt?”

The question came out softer than the rest of his bickering had been. Y/n looked at him for a second before scoffing lightly.

“What do you think?”

“Tch…” he clicked his tongue at her but his touch gentled after that.

She smiled at him playfully.

"No, baby. It doesn't hurt badly. It's like a scratch," she assured him with a faint smile.

The room grew quieter; there was no noise except for the low sound of fabric shifting. Levi rewrapped the bandages around her shoulder with practiced hands, his jaw still clenched tight with lingering irritation towards her.

Y/n watched him silently. The crease between his brows, the way he refused to look at her directly when he was upset, and the way his hands always gave him away long before his mouth did. She quietly admired his petty fit-throwing abilities.

“You know,” she murmured lazily, “for someone so mean and stoic, you’re awfully attentive with me...”

“I’m attentive because you’d die without supervision.”

She snorted softly.

Levi tied the bandage off tighter than necessary.

“Ow,” she hissed.

“Good,” he said smugly.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite herself. His eyes flicked up then, finally meeting hers.

The air shifted subtly as they held one another's gaze. The ire was still there, simmering beneath the surface of him, but now y/n could feel it becoming tangled with something much heavier—

Need.

Y/n’s teasing expression softened slightly. Levi noticed, of course, because he always noticed when her mood shifted. He could read her like a book he had read a thousand times. His hand lingered near her shoulder a second too long, his way of letting her know he wasn't too mad to have sex with her.

Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, then back up again—her way of telling him that she wanted it.

The silence stretched on-neither one made their move.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she murmured, voice quiet, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me.”

Levi huffed a dry laugh through his nose.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

But he didn’t move away; if anything, he leaned in closer. Close enough for her to feel the warmth coming off him. she began to feel a feverish heat creeping into her cheeks and between her thighs as his breath brushed her skin. His hand slid from her shoulder to the side of her waist, almost absentmindedly, letting his thumb rest there as his fingers stroked her side.

Y/n swallowed.

“…Levi.”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

"Mhm."

When his hand squeezed her slightly at her waist, and his brow creased in concern— she realized he wasn’t into lecturing her anymore—

He was ready to take action.

Her eyes traveled to his to find he was already looking back at her, hungrily.

He softly leaned in, brushing her lips with his.

“You’ve been a problem lately, y/n…” he murmured against her lips, voice low and edged. His gaze flicked between her eyes and mouth, lingering just long enough to make her quiver. “Disobeying me, running off, talking back...”

A quiet breath left him, almost a scoff.

“Fighting me at every single turn.”

His thumb pressed into her thigh—a warning of what came next.

“So,” he added, tone dropping even further, “what do you think I should do about that?”

She breathed heavily as his other hand traveled to her chin, holding her there firmly. She smiled in his face, her eyes flicking back—imitating his same movements.

"Me, personally...." she breathed. "I wouldn't stand for it. Matter of fact, I can scarcely even believe you've allowed it to go on this long, Levi...maybe you've grown a little soft?" she chided, egging him on.

His eyes turned dark, and his grip tightened. She shifted her weight, sitting up on her knees. He moved with her, never breaking his hold on her jaw as he stood at the edge of the bed, glaring down at her.

“You keep pushing me like this and you’re gonna remember exactly why nobody’s stupid enough to call me soft.” He muttered, watching her hard. “I want a real answer, don’t give me another one of your sharp little comebacks.”

“Here’s my answer…” she whispered shakily. “I think you should make me regret provoking you.” She breathed. “I think you should fuck me until the whole HQ building hears me screaming. Punish me until my legs give out—until I’m trembling and raw—until I can’t take a single step without feeling you inside of me first.”

Levi chuckled darkly at her.

“At least you know what you deserve,” he said in a low voice, just above a whisper. His thumb still playfully traced her jaw, his ash-colored eyes were gauging her every reaction. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you remember this every time you try to stand up tomorrow.”

Levi closed the small gap that remained between them, capturing her mouth quickly in a deep, messy kiss. His hand tightened at her waist as his tongue slid against hers, slow at first, before turning sloppy and unpredictable. He pulled away quickly, hand still clutched firmly around her jaw, just enough to hold her right where he wanted her.

He observed her body—bruised and injured. Her breasts moved with every rise and fall of her chest beneath her oversized white button-down shirt that only hung by one or two buttons. Her jeans had been discarded on the floor, leaving her in her small, cotton white panties that were already completely ruined— He loved that she could already be reduced to this state without him even having to touch her.

“Just look at yourself…” Levi muttered against her mouth, a dark sort of amusement seeping into his voice. “You’re a fucking wreck.”

His hand still held her tightly at her jaw, fingers dragging slowly along her skin as he gently—but firmly—pushed her back against the mattress until she was lying flat beneath him, legs falling open, completely exposed to him.

“And I’ve been far too lenient with you…” He kissed her once more, catching her desperate whine against his mouth as he ground his clothed erection against her soaked panties—teasing her aching mound with his hardness.

"That ends here and now..." he growled, rolling his hips against her harder, her breath catching low in her throat. "Because I'm about to show you what happens when you push me too far," he clipped, hooking his fingers in the crotch of her sopping wet thong, pulling it aside and gliding his digits against the softness of her mound. She gasped as he teased her entrance, gathering up the wetness there and spreading it to her clit where his fingers circled playfully.

"L-Levi...please..."

He chuckled, moving her bra up her breasts, exposing them and kissing her nipples before licking and gently biting the tightening knot delicately

"Oh, now you remember your manners all of a sudden? When you're begging me for my cock like a desperate whore?" he clicked his tongue, studying her face, hovering over her. “How embarrassing…” he murmured darkly.

She mewled and groaned in response, hips bucking upwards into his hand.

"I would play with your pussy for a while…and have you shaking and coming apart with my hand, but you're such a needy, impatient little slut," he reprimanded. "I think I should just go ahead and make you cum on my dick before you become a nuisance to me..." he finished, scissoring his fingers inside of her cunt, stretching her open, preparing her for what he was about to do.

“Mmm. There he is… the control freak.” She let out a shaky moan, refusing to give in completely—still fighting him for control.

“Tch. Mouthy little brat,” he said with a dark hint of amusement, pulling his hand away from her slicked folds before pressing his fingers against her lips.

“Here…” he taunted her softly. “Something to keep that smart fucking mouth busy.”

She took his fingers willingly, letting out a soft, uneven moan at the taste of her own arousal as she looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He dragged his pants down using his free hand, just enough to allow his erection to spring free from its constraints. He brushed his leaking tip against her exposed cunt, and slowly pushed every inch of his rigid length inside of her until she was impossibly full, and whimpering.

Her breath came in quick, uneven drags, and her lips parted helplessly at the sudden change. Levi hooked his fingers into her cheek, grabbing her attention.

“Who said you could stop sucking?”

She groaned, wrapping her lips back around his knuckles as he reluctantly parted with her swollen pussy, only to force his way back inside harshly.

“See? You like it a lot more when you let me have my way...don't you?" Levi chuckled under his breath, utterly amused by how blank her mind had gone. He began to pound deeply inside her cunt, her slick arousal coating him as he fucked her into a trembling mess.

She began babbling incoherently as he moved harshly, struggling to form words between the relentless force of him and the pressure of his fingers against her tongue. He withdrew them from her mouth and moved both hands to her thighs, gripping them firmly enough that his fingertips threatened to leave bruises behind.

“There she is…” he mocked softly, throwing her earlier words right back at her. “Trying to mouth off again.”

She let out a weak, breathless noise.

“You wanna say something so badly, don’t you?” He mused. “Can you even think with me this deep inside you?”

“Levi…” she answered desperately, her hands grasping at his wrists, fingers tightening around them. “Please… closer…”

He tisked at her, shaking his head once while he bore down on her, fucking her tight walls.

"Disobedient whores don't usually get pampered...they get throat-fucked, cunt stuffed with dick, and spanked raw until they remember their place..."

Y/n gasped as he forced her legs higher, nearly folding her in half beneath him. A strained breath escaped her when the movement tugged slightly at her injured shoulder.

Levi had nearly forgotten about her injuries entirely until the sharp sting in her breath brought him back to reality. Irritation flickered across his face for a moment. Part of him almost wanted to be harsher for it, to punish her for getting hurt so badly in the first place, but instead his grip loosened slightly on one of her thighs, letting it relax while his other hand remained firm and unyielding.

"And if you hadn't gone and gotten yourself fuckin' stabbed..." he punctuated every word with a sharp thrust. "...then that's exactly what you'd be getting right now," he hissed through gritted teeth as he slammed into her trembling center, obscene slick sounds filled the room, which were quickly drowned out by her loud cries.

“Levi… I’m not gonna last if you keep fucking me like this…” she whined shakily. “Please… I just need you closer—I'm almost there...”

Her fingers tightened against him weakly as she looked up at him through unfocused eyes.

“I’ll listen,” she breathed. “I swear I will. I’ll do whatever you want me to… just—please…”

The sound of her begging him nearly sent him over the edge.

"The next time you decide to disobey me, I'm going to fuck your pretty little cunt inside out..." he snapped. "By the time I’m finished with you, standing’s going to feel ambitious.” he snapped.

"I—I understand..." she cried out softly. He could feel her spent pussy clenching tightly around his shaft. As he snapped his hips to hers, he fought to hold himself together long enough to make sure that she came first.

“Fuck…” he muttered darkly, finally relenting to her desperate pleas. He shifted over her and gripped the back of her neck sternly. “Look at me,” he warned, holding her gaze as the last of his restraint began to slip.

“You better tell me you’re close, because I’m barely holding it together here.” He growled low in his throat, his hips faltering for half a second as he fought against the overwhelming rush threatening to break through.

“Levi-fuck!" she panted out. "I’m cumming already…” she cried breathlessly, her eyes lulling back behind her lids as he rocked his body into hers.

"Good fucking girl..." he growled, taking her lips and kissing her deeply.

He groaned into her mouth as her convulsions milked and massaged his cock. He refused to pull out until the very last second, breaking the kiss sloppily and painting her stomach and pussy with his warm release. He let out a rough breath through clenched teeth as he pumped his length, watching his cum pool in her naval and drip from her pelvis down her ass all the way onto the blankets underneath them.

Levi dropped heavily beside her, chest rising and falling with rough breaths as he dragged a hand down his face, visibly trying to get himself back under control.

For a while, the only sound was their spent breaths mingling together, and a few soft whimpers from y/n who shifted slightly next to him, alerting him to check on her.

“Your arm okay?” he asked softly, turning onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow, his eyes scanning over her carefully. She looked utterly spent. Cunt swollen and still lightly throbbing, cum dripping down her heated skin, her hair fanned out in a messy halo around her, and a dazed, crooked grin splayed across her beautiful face.

"Feels great..." she breathed, closing her eyes, not even seeming to care about the mess at all.

Levi pushed himself quickly off the ruined bed, muttering a quiet curse as he searched for a cloth to clean her up with. After taking care of the mess, he carefully peeled back part of her bandaging, checking to make sure their reckless activities hadn’t pulled any of her stitches loose.

"How's your handy work doing?" she asked lazily, eyes failing to stay open fully.

"Just fine..."

He answered quietly, watching her drift closer and closer to sleep. Carefully, he pulled the blankets over her, helping adjust her head against the pillow before slipping back beneath the sheets beside her. His arm wrapped cautiously around her waist, mindful of every bruise and bandage.

“Y/n?” he murmured after a while.

“Mmm?” she hummed sleepily.

Levi exhaled softly through his nose, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Don’t ever make me that angry again,” he muttered tiredly. “I almost had to do an unspeakable thing to you."

“Oh? And what’s that?” she asked teasingly, her eyes barely hanging open.

Levi glanced over at her, his expression completely flat.

“I almost had to fuck you in the ass,” he said plainly.

She burst into laughter immediately, her shoulders shaking hard enough that she winced and grabbed at her injured arm.

“Careful, idiot,” Levi muttered, steadying her against him.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful from now on,” she giggled breathlessly. “Though honestly… I’m not sure I would’ve minded all that much.”

Levi let out a long, exhausted breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.

“Tch...you’d be into that too, wouldn’t you?"

She nodded her head and chuckled softly, almost asleep.

“Maybe another time,” he murmured against her hair. “For now, get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

His arm tightened around her as he pulled her closer into his chest, his fingers absentmindedly brushed through her messy hair. Eventually, her breathing evened out against him, until it became slow and warm. With the simple reassurance that she was alive and safe in his arms, he finally allowed the tension to leave his body, too. Not long after, sleep dragged him under beside her.

Her gaze lifted from the body at her feet, which was now beyond recognition. The woman shrank back at the sight of her, and Y/n couldn’t blame her. She glanced down at herself.

She was splattered in blood. Her forehead gashed wide open, arms and legs already bruised and trembling, her entire body still shaking as the adrenaline slowly drained from her system.

“Please… don’t hurt us. We don’t want any trouble with you…”

Y/n immediately raised her hands, shaking them gently side to side.

“No—no, it’s okay, I promise. I’m here to help you… that’s why I came…” The words tumbled out unevenly, and she winced at how little sense they made.

I'm fucking this up nicely...

The woman nodded, though her body still pulled away, inching farther from the doorway. y/n could see in the pale moonlight that the woman had long, black hair and a curvy frame. Her eyes were dark and afraid.

“I swear on my life—you’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Y/n stepped forward slowly, hands still raised.

“You’re injured… please, let me help you.”

The woman hesitated, then gave a tiny, cautious nod.

Y/n closed the distance and knelt beside her, quickly realizing she had nothing to wrap the wound with.

“Do you have any first aid supplies? Gauze?” she asked softly, mindful of the baby, who had finally cried itself into exhaustion.

“Y-yes… but I’m actually more worried about you,” the woman stammered.

Y/n glanced down again, only then realizing she’d been stabbed in the shoulder during the struggle.

“Oh… that—don’t worry... I’m okay,” she said quickly.

The woman stared her up and down, mouth agape, completely unconvinced.

“Ma’am, please—the first aid?”

She nodded.

“In the kitchen… cabinet above the icebox. It’s a metal box.”

Y/n moved quickly, finding the kit along with a wash basin and cloth before returning to her side. She worked carefully, cleaning the wound and inspecting it. The gash was fairly deep, but her pupils were equal, and there were no immediate signs of a concussion, no vomiting, and no splitting headache.

Y/n wrapped the gauze securely around the woman's head.

“He really did a number on both of us, huh…” the woman murmured, surprising her as she reached up to wipe the blood from Y/n’s brow.

“Yeah… I suppose he did. But he didn’t succeed. That’s what matters,” Y/n replied quietly.

The woman took over, gently cleaning the gash across y/n’s forehead before wrapping it, applying firm pressure to slow the bleeding.

“Your arm…” she frowned. “It’s soaking through too quickly. We’re almost out of gauze...I’ll grab a towel to hold pressure, but you’re going to need stitches.”

Y/n let out a small laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry… it wouldn’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last.”

I’ll just add that to the list of things Levi’s going to lose his top over tonight…

She flinched slightly as the woman tightened the wrap.

“We can’t keep calling each other ‘ma’am’ forever,” the woman said softly as she tied it off. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/n… Y/n Ackerman,” she answered softly.

The woman froze, eyes widening.

“Not really...”

y/n nodded softly.

“You mean to tell me the crown princess—the wife of humanity’s strongest soldier—just ran into my house in the middle of the night to save my life?”

Y/n shrugged, glancing down at the sleeping baby that she cradled under her good arm.

“Well… when you say it like that…” she trailed off, quickly changing the subject.

“And you?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Moira,” she said with a small smile. “And you’re holding Anya-Leona… though I just call her Anya.”

Y/n looked down at the baby, letting out a soft laugh as she blinked back a tear.

“Oh… Armin’s going to love this…”

“What do you mean?” Moira asked, confused.

“Any correlation to Annie Leonhart? Perhaps you had a dream or a strange vision...?"

Moira nodded slowly.

“Yes…but how...?" she stammered in confusion. "How do you know all of this? How did you even know to come here tonight?"

Y/n tilted her head back slightly, glancing up at the stars. For a moment, she let herself breathe and allowed herself to feel the weight of still being alive. After a moment, she sighed deeply, standing to her feet and handing the sleeping girl to Moira.

“My horse is tied just beyond the tree line there,” she said after a moment. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Moira hesitated, then nodded, her brows knitting together.

“And him…?” she asked quietly, glancing toward the body inside.

“Leave him,” Y/n said coldly. Something sharp burned inside of her chest--pure rage.

She turned away quickly.

“You won’t be coming back here again. And this is exactly the ending that he deserved.”

And with that, y/n helped Moira onto the horse along with Anya, then started the four-mile trek back home to her husband, who she was anything but ready to face.

The walk back through the woods was difficult. After explaining their precarious situation to Moira, they fell into a dull silence. Y/n was sure that she was still trying to process the weight of it all.

As the adrenaline wore off, the pain began to set in. Y/n held the reins with her good arm, her injured one dangling uselessly at her side. They stopped once to fashion a makeshift sling out of her shirt.

The baby began to cry as they drew closer to the cabin, and y/n felt helpless as a letdown started. Milk soaked through her bra—the only thing left covering her nearly bare torso.

“You didn’t tell me that you’re a nursing mother!” Moira scolded.

“Yeah… and I’m quite the overproducer, luckily. I’ve got a decent stash built up for him at home…” she joked weakly, wincing as the pressure built on top of everything else. “But this—this is unbearable. I need to relieve some of it.”

Moira insisted they stop. She helped y/n hand-express just enough to ease the pain, given that she could barely lift her own arms. Moira nagged her about mastitis, but y/n barely registered the words through the pain radiating across her body.

Once back in the saddle, it took another thirty minutes before the cabin came into view. The sun was just beginning to rise over the roof, and y/n felt like her knees might give out beneath her.

"We’re safe now..." she breathed.

The door to the cabin swung open, and Levi stepped out—shirtless, hair a mess, and eyes still heavy with sleep. He had likely just woken up and discovered her gone.

Here we go…

He wasn’t one to show much, but the shock on his face was unmistakable—his wife lathered in blood, dirt, and milk, leading an injured woman and baby on horseback.

The sight of him made her sway weakly.

Or maybe it was the blood loss.

“Levi… help me…”

Her voice came out thin, and black spots clouded her vision. She didn’t feel the ground when she fell, only the strong, steady arms that caught her just before everything faded away.

Y/n felt a searing pain tear through her upper arm. It burned deeply, dragging her up from unconsciousness as if something was clawing and gnawing its way through her. She flinched hard, her body jerking upright before she could stop the reflex, but strong hands pushed her steadily back into place

“—don’t move.”

Levi’s voice was there; it was tight and angry. He held her body in place for a moment longer, and her body weakly obeyed.

“Ouch—fuck—” she choked, trying hard to swallow, but her throat was burning and dry. She moaned deeply as the pain spread through her arm again.

“Yeah,” Levi muttered flatly, not even glancing up as he worked carefully. “That tends to happen when you go and get yourself torn open.”

His hands didn’t falter as he threaded the needle through her skin again. Y/n’s vision blurred slightly as she tried to focus. She wasn't crying, but her eyes watered involuntarily from the pain. Her breathing was uneven. The whole room felt…off.

There was so much movement, and too much clattering noise.

Her eyes shifted around to find Armin moving around and packing quickly. He rushed out the door with a few heavy bags. She could see him through the living room window as he threw them into the bed of the old truck.

More bags were already lined near the door—gear, supplies, first aid, and weapons were laid out like they were preparing to leave.

Her brows pulled together.

“…what’s going on?” she asked, voice rough, disoriented. “Why are we—”

“Moira told us everything.”

Levi cut her off in a clipped tone.

"Oh..." she replied weakly, hazily trying to remember everything for herself.

“Everything she was able to understand, and could recall, anyway. She explained what the assassin said before you shot him."

He pulled the final stitch tight. y/n hissed sharply through her teeth, giving him a look of seething displeasure.

“We don’t have time to sit around,” he continued, finally looking at her. “If what you pulled out of him is accurate, then we’re already behind, and Falco and Gabi could be in big trouble."

Y/n blinked at him, trying to catch up. She remembered. Gabi and Falco would leave at first light tomorrow morning. They had no time to waste--they had to warn them as soon as possible.

Levi stood, cutting the thread clean with his knife.

Y/n’s stomach dropped.

"Oh shit...yeah, we should go..."

Her head turned sharply toward Armin, who was grabbing the last of the supplies at the door.

Y/n swallowed hard, realizing it was a race against time.

Levi stepped back from her, grabbed fresh gauze, and wrapped her arm tightly, securing it firmly and helping her into a makeshift sling.

“Where is Troup?”

Levi scoffed under his breath.

“Oh, now you care.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. Her eyes watered instantly; the pain of him insinuating she didn't care about Troup cut deeply. “Levi—I couldn’t help it… I had a vision last night and—”

“No shit.”

His response was flat and immediate. He wasn't giving her any room to explain--he didn't seem to want to hear it at all.

She went quiet for a moment, unsure how to continue without angering him further.

He dragged a hand down his face; his jaw was bound tight.

“Eren told me to go alone…”

Levi let out a short, humorless breath that was barely a laugh.

“Of course he did. Why am I not shocked?”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping hard across the floor as he shoved it back, pacing like he needed the movement to keep from twisting off on her.

“Baby’s with Moira,” he muttered. “By the stream. She took them for a walk while we packed."

Y/n wiped at her tears.

Levi glanced at her—just for a second. Then his expression hardened again.

“You’re reckless, y/n” he said. “And selfish.”

Her jaw set.

"...and I don't know how to keep you safe anymore..." his voice broke in a way that made her heart ache deeply.

“But the Female Titan is alive. And so is her mother.”

She held his gaze.

“Eren told me to go alone—”

“Yeah,” Levi cut in, dryly. “I heard you.”

“You would’ve died if you came with me...” she said, steadily.

That made him stop, and for a moment his expression was puzzled.

“…you’re sure of that.”

It wasn't really a question, and she wasn't actually positive of what could have happened. The vision she had of Levi, with his throat gashed open...It haunted her to this day. The only thing she knew for sure was that if Eren told her to go alone, the alternative wouldn't have been good.

Y/n didn’t hesitate any further.

“Yes.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“And you’re basing that on what?” he asked quietly. “Another dream?”

Y/n swallowed, but didn’t back down, quickly changing the subject. Not wanting to share her vision of Levi.

“Be as mad at Eren as you want,” she said. “He’s always your scapegoat when something goes wrong. Ever since the Rumbling—”

Levi’s voice cut through hers like a blade.

"Be careful what you say to me right now..." He lifted a finger just slightly at her.

But she kept going regardless.

“But he hasn’t led us wrong,” she said. “Not once. He warned you just in time to find me in the forest when I gave birth, just in time to save me. To save your son.”

Levi didn’t interrupt, so she pressed a little further.

“He’s gotten us this far. We’re alive because of him. So yeah… when he asks something of me, I listen. When Hange met me in the paths and gave me information we needed, I listened."

Her voice softened, hoping it could soften him as well.

“The end of his life… he wasn’t a good person. He was selfish and erratic, I never denied that, Levi..." She swallowed hard, fighting to continue talking through the burning and dryness in her throat. "But he never stopped being that someone I could count on...at least not in my eyes.”

She met Levi’s burning gaze.

“He’s been that for me since we were kids.”

Levi took a slow breath, fighting something bitter that slipped in at the realization that Eren had known her in ways he never would.

“You don’t have to like it. But you do have to respect it.”

The room was tense as Levi glowered at her.

“We’re all here alive right now, because of him.”

Levi only continued to stare at her, forcing his fists to soften at his sides.

“I hurt you,” she said more quietly. “I know you feel like I failed you.”

She paused, allowing herself a moment to swallow her pride. Her became even more tender.

“Please… just—"

"...forgive me.”

Levi didn’t answer right away. He turned instead, grabbing the last bag by the door. He paused at the entryway, back still to her.

“Forgiven,” he said curtly, clutching the strap of the bag tightly in his hand, as if it were the hardest word he had ever had to utter.

He glanced over his shoulder; his expression was hardened once again.

“We’re leaving for Stohess soon.” His statement was short and brash. “Armin’s already working on a plan to communicate with Gabi and Falco without compromising us. We'll send the message from H.Q.”

He paused for a moment, looking back over her.

“Get up. Get yourself ready to go."

And then he was gone; he allowed the door to slam shut behind him.

Y/n pushed herself upright despite the pain tearing through her arm and the weakness in her body. She sucked in a sharp breath and forced herself to move.

She’d fix things with Levi later.

Right now—She just wanted to see her son.

Y/n made her way slowly down the path toward the stream, using the trees to steady herself. Her legs felt weak, and her body heavy from blood loss and exhaustion.

She spotted Moira sitting at the edge of the water, pants rolled to her calves, one baby in each arm. She spoke softly to them—too quiet for y/n to hear—but something about it made her chest flutter and ache.

y/n cleared her throat.

Moira turned quickly, looking startled, letting out a tight breath.

“I’m sorry…” y/n gave a weak chuckle, leaning against a tree for support. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” Moira said, though she still looked a little shaken. “I think I’m just… on edge after last night.”

Y/n nodded and carefully lowered herself beside Moira with a soft thud.

“What are you doing out here?” Moira asked, frowning. “You should be resting. You lost a lot of blood.”

Y/n held out her good arm for Troup.

“I’ve been through worse,” she said lightly.

Moira hesitated, watching her carefully before handing him over.

“If that’s true…” she murmured, “…Then I don’t know how you’re still alive.”

Y/n shrugged, pulling Troup close and pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Guess the universe is just not done with me yet.”

Silence settled between them, for a brief moment filled only by the quiet rush of the stream and the soft coos of the babies.

“I think…” Moira said slowly, “…he really would’ve killed her. My baby.”

Y/n’s expression tightened.

“Yeah,” she said plainly. “Of course he would have.”

Moira swallowed.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before… that kind of violence. I’ve never watched someone die.”

Y/n looked ahead, expressionless.

“It was a necessary killing,” she said simply.

Moira hesitated.

“What you said to him…” she continued. “About the forest… what you’d do to him…”

Her voice faltered and cracked, as if she was almost scared to ask.

“…did you mean it?”

Y/n turned to look at her, holding her gaze firmly.

“Yes,” she said, certainly. “I meant every word.”

Silence followed.

For a moment, y/n felt something unfamiliar. A flicker of awareness at what she was capable of. What she had become over the years of bloodshed and violence. She began to get lost in her thoughts, until...

“…I admire you,” Moira said quietly.

Y/n blinked, caught completely off guard by this.

She studied y/n's face, smiling faintly.

“You’re willing to do terrible things… for the right reasons. Not everyone can say that...and I thank you for doing something terrible. So that I can live. So that...Anya can live."

Y/n looked away slightly, nodding once.

“…wasn’t always my choice,” she muttered.

Her mind flickered briefly—Crown Agents, bloodshed, and orders she wasn't allowed to disobey unless she wanted to die.

Then she thought of Erwin, who bought out her contract. Who had saved her from a lifetime of senseless killing.

"But now it is. And I would do it over again every time. You don't need to thank me...for doing what I was put on this earth to do."

She pushed down her unbidden memories that were threatening to surface.

“Come on,” she said after a moment, pushing herself up with much effort. “Let’s go... the boys are probably ready to leave.”

They made the slow walk back together. Moira would help steady y/n when needed. The bassinet was rolling unevenly over the ground.

By the time the cabin came into view, y/n was exhausted.

Levi was already outside, arranging the bags in the bed of the truck, when he caught sight of them.

He crossed the distance quickly, taking her arm and draping it over his shoulder without a word, supporting her weight as he guided her toward the vehicle, and helping her into the middle seat through the driver's side. Moira went around to the other side, climbing in and sitting close to support her in case she went unconscious again.

Once she was seated, he handed her a canteen, then a piece of bread and cheese.

“…eat,” he said, watching her as she chewed slowly. "I should’ve made you eat earlier."

He exhaled through his nose.

"I just figured you’d bounce back like you always do...I assumed you were fine." He paused again, “…that was stupid.”

His eyes dragged over her, more careful now, and his voice dropped low where only she could hear.

“…I'm sorry, baby.”

She nodded at him, shocked, rubbing his cheek weakly with her good hand.

“…you’re not walking around like this again. Got it? You should not have gone down to the stream.”

Y/n glanced at him, a little surprised.

“I’m fine,” she chuckled. “Just need food, Levi.”

He nodded once.

“Yeah...”

He climbed into the truck next to her, closing the door.

Armin mounted his horse and took off ahead of them, cutting through the path faster than the truck would be able to manage. The engine rumbled to life. As they moved, Y/n leaned back, her head falling against Moira’s shoulder without a second thought.

Sleep took her quickly.

Her eyes snapped open when the truck lurched to a stop.

For a second, panic coursed through her, quickening her breathing and disorienting her, until she recognized the tall stone buildings surrounding them.

Stohess. They had arrived at Headquarters.

Mikasa was already descending the steps, moving fast—like she’d been waiting for them.

Moira climbed out first, circling to the back and opening the door carefully. The babies were still asleep. She lifted Troup gently, but Mikasa was there in an instant, taking him without hesitation, and checking him over with practiced eyes.

Levi moved to y/n’s side, opening the passenger door.

“Careful,” he muttered, steadying her as she climbed down.

She leaned into him more than she meant to, and he absorbed the extra weight easily, adjusting his grip and guiding her up the steps.

Inside, the halls blurred past in a slow haze of movement and sound until they reached Jean’s downstairs office.

It was large, much larger than it needed to be. More like a lounge than an office, with cushioned chairs and worn couches lining the walls.

Levi eased her down onto one of them.

“Stay,” he said shortly.

y/n ignored that almost immediately.

The door opened again quickly.

Armin, Jean, and Sean Smith--Erwin's nephew and the new Section Commander--entered mid-conversation, their voices low and urgent. Armin didn’t slow down at the sight of the new company; instead, he moved straight to the desk and began unpacking equipment from the large box he was carrying.

Y/n frowned.

“…care to clue me in?” she asked, her voice thin and weak, but edged. “I’m a little lost here.” Sean opened his mouth to explain, but Mikasa butted in before he could have a chance, crossing her arms angrily at y/n.

“I could say the same to you,” she shot. “You look terrible. You should be lying down.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What happened to you this time?” She paused, looking over at Anya and Moira. “Another inheritor?”

Y/n exhaled struggling to breathe through the dizziness.

“…Female,” she muttered, ready to vomit.

She pushed herself up too fast and nearly went back down. Levi caught her immediately, gripping her waist.

“Sit down, right now.”

“No.”

She pulled away before he could force her, pushing him away. She limped forward, dropping into the chair across from Armin.

“Talk,” she snapped at him. “Now.”

Armin didn’t look up, he was hyper-focused.

“Give me a second.”

His hands moved quickly as he assembled the radio, wires clicking into place, and dials turning.

Y/n’s patience snapped, she was certainly not accustomed to them keeping her uninformed after years of leading them faithfully. She looked from Jean to Armin impatiently.

“I know that one of you had better fucking—”

“Morse code.” Armin interrupted.

He said it like it should’ve been obvious.

“You said Aruel knew Gabi and Falco were coming,” he continued. “That means their phones are being monitored continuously."

Jean leaned back against the wall, watching her with a faint smirk.

“They’ll expect us to adapt,” Armin went on. “...to new systems, and new methods. The entire world is shifting forward, and technology is advancing faster than anyone can keep up with.”

He paused briefly, adjusting the frequency.

“But that’s exactly why this works.”

The static cleared, and the signal came through clean, and he allowed himself a small, satisfied breath.

“They won’t expect us to go backwards.”

Now he looked up.

"Gabi knows Morse code. She knows it very well; she actually taught it to me.” Armin smiled proudly. “She used it during wartime—long before Marley and Paradis ever came into direct conflict. It was standard communication for field operations. It's something that she’ll recognize immediately.”

Levi stepped back in beside her, pressing a plate of food into her hands without asking.

She tried to wave him off.

He didn’t budge.

“Eat. Right now. I'm done playing with you..."

Y/n exhaled sharply but took it.

Armin grabbed the receiver and held it out.

“All I need from you,” he said, “is a short call.”

Y/n set the food down and took the receiver with her good hand.

“What do I say?”

“Tell her you’re excited for market day, like you said before,” Armin said. “And that your old friend Morise will meet her at 5:30.”

y/n tapped her nails on the receiver.

“She’ll understand that means channel 53. And that she needs to tune in."

Y/n nodded.

“Dial it,” she bossed, pushing it toward Jean. “My arm’s not cooperating.”

Jean glanced at her sling.

“…yeah, I noticed.”

She shot him a look.

He rolled his eyes at her, but dialed. The line rang, and she informed the operator, who pushed the call through. It began to beep.

Once.

Twice.

Then three times...

“Hello?”

It was Gabi.

y/n exhaled quietly, calming her nerves.

“Hey. Just wanted to say I’m excited for market day—and wanted to let you know that my old pal Morise will meet you at 5:30.”

Gabi paused for a moment.

“Got it. I’ll be there.”

Click!

The line went dead, and Armin was already moving. He double-checked the dial and waited, giving her plenty of time to get to a radio and tune in. After about ten minutes, he leaned forward, plugging in the mic.

“All stations,” he said evenly, his voice shifting into a very official tone. “We’re conducting a radio check. Keep the line clear for the next few minutes as we conduct this check."

He paused, then began tapping his finger gently on the mic.

Armin’s fingers moved with precision.

Tap.

Tap tap.

A pause.

Then the rhythm shifted into longer, and sharper bursts. Y/n listened, her chest tightening as the pattern began to form meaning in her mind—

Do not board.

Her stomach dropped as he worked.

The tapping continued, much faster.

Assassin at port. Compromised.

Her fingers curled into her palm nervously as he went on.

Falco shift.

Armin didn’t slow his steady beats on the microphone. The next sequence stretched longer and was much more complex.

Fly up east coast… five miles.

y/n realized she was forgetting to breathe.

The final sequences came in cleanly.

Hold offshore. Await contact.

Armin stopped tapping and leaned forward into the mic.

"Radio check complete. Resume normal traffic."

Y/n gazed at him anxiously.

"She'll get all that? Its just tapping?" asked Jean quizzically.

“Not everyone’s and idiot like you.” y/n shot at him.

He frowned. “That’s not very nice of you.”

Y/n chuckled.

"Don't worry." Armin cut in. "She will."

The room breathed a sigh of relief.

Y/n’s voice came low and unsure...

“…and now?”

Armin’s gaze stayed fixed on the radio.

“While we wait..." he said, turning in the chair and smiling slyly. "We discuss my new plan."

A/N: We are getting close to the end of my little series here, and IDK what I will do with my life once it is over :') Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Always feel free to pm me with thoughts and feedback. I am a bored individual who loves to yap.

Prologue

Chapter One: Echoes of Paradise. 🍆

Chapter Two: Part one-Touch Like Ruin 🍆

Chapter Two: Part Two-Visions and Shadows🍆

Chapter Three: The Man in the Chair

Chapter Four: Slip of the Tongue🍆

Chapter Five: Enemies in the Room

Chapter Six: Midnight Ride 🍆

Chapter Seven: The Inheritors Sentence

Chapter Eight: Ad Finem Tecum

Chapter Nine : The Biggest in the Survey Corps🍆

Chapter Nine: Part Two-The Biggest in the Survey Corps🍆

Chapter Ten: Open for Interpretation 🍆

Chapter Eleven: Lost Research

Chapter Twelve: Ledgers and Lanterns

Chapter Thirteen: The Calm Before the Blade

Chapter Fourteen: The Gala Trap

Chapter Fifteen: Found in Apple Seeds

Chapter Sixteen: Caged Bird 🍆

Chapter Seventeen: Seven Days is Enough

Chapter eighteen: Here Comes Levi in a Baby Carriage

Chapter Eighteen: Part Two-Little Troup

Chapter Nineteen: Not Without My Permission

Chapter Twenty: Good Job, My Sweet Girl

Chapter Twenty-One: The Note

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Calm Place

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Cards Don’t Lie

Chapter Twenty-Five: Six Long Weeks 🍆

Chapter Twenty-Six: Everything Clicked

Chapter Twenty-Seven Part One: No Matter What 🍆

Chapter Twenty-Seven Part Two: You Reap What You Sow

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Signal in the Static

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Bruises and Discipline🍆

Chapter Thirty: A Coordinated Attack

“Eren…” she said, squeezing him tighter. She opened her eyes, then pulled back slightly, gazing up at him.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

He smiled.

“I know. But I have to show you something.”

She frowned, her throat felt gripped as tears threatened to spill.

Of course you do...It's always the same.

She hated that every vision of him was tangled up in horror. She always came just shy of comfort when he was near. Close enough to touch, but never close enough to truly reach him.

“Please Eren…every time you visit me in these visions--It’s so hard on me. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take…”

Eren’s face was written with pain, he stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb.

“I know, and I’m sorry for that…” he whispered. “But I need to show you this, now. Or something bad will happen. I need you to stop it…”

He pulled her in again, hugging her tightly.

“Show me what?” She said, trying to inch out of his grip to look over her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. She saw a tree that looked as if it had been struck by lightning behind her; the rest of the forest was thick and green. A small brick home stood in front of her, over Eren’s shoulder.

Silence permeated the air for a brief moment.

She looked around.

“Eren..?” He was silent. He held her closer, as if bracing her for what he knew came next.

A loud commotion began taking place inside the home across from them. Her eyes peeked over his shoulder…watching intently. The door burst open, and a woman fell onto the front step, cradling a screaming infant in her arms.

“Please!” The woman screamed. “Please don’t do this!”

She was bleeding profusely from the head; she had been violently bludgeoned. She crawled on one arm, cradling her child in the other. Y/n struggled against Eren's hold, but he squeezed her tighter.

“No…no, no, no!” She cried out as she tried to drag herself away from him.

He pulled out a handgun.

Y/n’s heart was racing in her chest. Her throat was tight as if someone was strangling her.

“Eren! Let me go, right now!” She tried to fight free of his grasp, tried to help the woman, but Eren wouldn't relent. All she could do was watch. A gunshot sounded through the trees, and birds took flight overhead, escaping the danger.

The woman’s body dropped completely onto the earth below her. The baby wailed. Y/n screamed loudly.

“Don’t look. Close your eyes now.” Eren demanded.

“Eren, please!” Y/n sobbed into his shoulder. She watched the assailant roll the mother’s body aside with his boot. She fell to the side, uncovering the infant who lay screeching in the dirt. He aimed the gun.

“West up the river, four miles. Leave now, and go alone.”

She buried her face into his chest and screamed with all her might, with every ounce of breath in her lungs. The gun went off.

She shot upright in bed, looking around, panicked.

Levi had brought Troup into bed with them, they were curled around each other breathing softly. She looked at the bedside clock.

2:00 a.m.

She hesitated before quietly getting out of bed, her eyes lingering on Levi.

Go alone...

Eren's words rang inside her head.

She swallowed hard. There was never a second thought after that. Eren had brought her this far-- she trusted him. If he said to go alone, it was for a good reason. What if she woke Levi to accompany her, and he never made it back to Troup? She knew she could handle one man with ease. After all, she used to be an assassin for the crown, so she would do what she did best—

Take life.

But this time, it would be for a good cause.

She crept out of the room, boots in hand. Moving quickly, she pulled on her pants and shirt, then grabbed the revolver, compass, compact mirror, and her hunting knife before slipping out the door. The horses whinnied softly as she stepped into the warm summer night, the air brushing against her skin. For a brief moment, she hesitated. Something in her chest was pulling her back as she glanced over her shoulder.

But she ignored it.

Quickly, she tied her hair back and saddled the horse; her movements were fast and practiced, a second nature to her that she could never forget.

She jumped into the saddle, fixing the compass in her hand, and tore off across the yard and off into the midnight woods. She rode along the river for what seemed like forever, not knowing what she was looking for, eyes searching for anything that would strike her as familiar.

I have to get there in time.

She rode for another mile, then—

She saw it.

The tall burnt tree that jutted out of the ground like a charred stake.

She swung down from the horse, tying the reins to a low branch before turning toward the house, revolver already drawn.

Raised, frantic voices spilled out into the night.

Her pulse quickened, and she felt her body react, wanting to lurch forward and rush in.

Stop...breathe...you're smarter than this, y/n.

She reined against every impulse inside of her.

In her vision, he had dragged the woman outside and executed her in the yard.

That hadn’t happened yet.

And she wouldn't let it.

She forced a steady breath through her lungs, shoving the surge of emotion down where it couldn’t interfere with her again.

Becoming a mother has made me too soft...

There was no room for softness here tonight.

She was walking into a house she knew nothing about—the layout, the lighting, and where exactly the struggle was unfolding. If she rushed in and made noise, he would panic. The mother would surely die because of it.

Y/n moved forward slowly, keeping low, her footsteps careful against the ground.

She would go in as quietly as possible.

And she would end it before he had the chance to.

The front door was kicked in, and it hung slightly open on the busted hinges. She pushed it, and it creaked open. She cringed slightly at the sound it made, but quickly realized that it wouldn’t matter; the struggle was already in full swing—no one would hear her.

The assailant was likely right on top of his victim—she didn’t want to risk shooting the mother or baby, so she hastily holstered the weapon at her back, slowly drawing her knife instead. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but her hands stayed steady, and her breathing even.

There was a thrill there…one she hadn’t felt in a long time. She hadn’t taken a life in ages. Hadn’t wanted to.

But this...

This was different.

It's because of what he is...

A predator. Preying on the weak and defenseless.

So for the first time in a long while… she wanted to sink her blade deeply.

It excited her.

Not knowing the layout of the home would be a great disadvantage. It was dark inside—not even a lamp was lit. She relied fully on the moonlight and the sounds of the struggle to guide her. She rounded the corner from the living room into the hallway—where she was thankful to catch the rays of a low lamplight at the end of the hallway. The knife was ready by her side, and she kept her steps quiet.

The back of the house. That’s where they are.

Her heart leapt with excitement.

She took her small mirror from her cargo pocket, carefully positioning it to see the inside of the room, the mother stood in between the crib and the man, fighting him desperately. His gun was drawn, she fought his arm into the air. It went off. The baby shrieked. Y/n tried to keep steady against the deafening noise, flinching only slightly.

Y/n turned, took a deep breath, and held her knife closely to her chest. She licked her lips nervously, bouncing lightly on her toes.

Then, within an instant, she charged, crossing the room in two quick steps, and leaping onto the man’s back, she raised her blade and brought it down profusely.

He was quick, letting go of the woman and bringing his hand up to block, but the knife went through his forearm. Y/n grunted as she pulled it free—bringing it back down again with a crushing force. He whipped around wildly, trying to throw her off his back. The knife went into his sternum when she had been aiming for the solar plexus.

Dammit…

He grabbed her by the wrist, flinging her forward. She crashed into the mother and the crib, knocking her down. She shifted her weight, using the crib to bring herself steady again, landing hard on her feet and digging her heels in. He aimed the gun at her. She barreled forward into him, knocking him back just in time—the gun went off.

Once on the ground, she straddled him—her foot pinning his wrist, the one still clutching the smoking weapon. Her hands went to the knife lodged deep in his chest, fingers slipping as she fought to wrench it free.

He struck her in the throat with his free hand.

Her breath halted, choked off into a strangled gasp from the violent blow, but she didn’t stop. With a raw, desperate surge of strength, she tore the blade loose from his body.

Before she could bring it down again, his hand tangled into her hair. He yanked hard, ferociously he flung her off of him.

Her head slammed against the floor brutally.

Fuck he’s strong…

She surged to her feet—just in time to see the gun swing toward her. She dropped in an instant, rolling under the line of fire. As she moved, she drove the blade deep into his calf. He jerked and cried out again, but his grip on the gun was still unwavering

She reached up, catching his wrist again—forcing the barrel off course just as the gun fired. The shot cracked wildly above her head. Splinters burst from the bed frame behind them as the bullet struck.

“Run!” she shouted at the mother, who was weakly gathering the baby into her arms.

She’d been beaten badly.

Gunfire echoed through the room wild and unpredictable. If the mother didn’t move now, she likely wouldn’t make it out at all. The assailant tore his attention from y/n, swinging the gun back toward the mother as she weakly stumbled towards the bedroom door.

Y/n moved faster.

Her hand shot out, catching his wrist and wrenching it upward just as the gun fired again, this time into the ceiling. The recoil jolted through his arm, but she held on regardless, vying for control in desperation.

Thank god for all the grip strength training Levi made me do...

The knife was still trapped awkwardly between his forearm and her palm, slick with blood. She fought to re-grip it, fingers slipping as she forced his arm away from her.

No angle and no room...

She shifted her weight, straining, and drove the blade upward, aiming for his back, for the soft space beneath the ribs—for the liver. All while keeping his gun arm pinned high, her muscles were burning as she fought to keep the barrel from dropping any lower.

He has to be out of ammo soon…

She quickly glanced over the room, ensuring that the mother had run. It was empty besides them-- they were the only ones now involved in this life-or-death struggle. He took advantage of her lapse in focus and countered fast, adjusting his grip around the barrel of the gun and kicking her in the chest, propelling her backwards. He then swung the gun by the barrel, using it as a bludgeon.

It cracked across her forehead with unforgivable force.

Her vision burst white.

She stumbled back disoriented, but not down.

Not yet.

Within a fraction of a second, she was moving again, retreating down the hallway and into the living area—on purpose.

Baiting him.

She tore the revolver from the back of her waistband with precision, wiping the blood dripping from her injury away from her eye with the back of her hand as it blurred and stung her vision. Then she steadied. She knew she would have only a fraction of a second before he followed.

She took aim at the corner of the entryway.

Steadied her hands.

He rounded the corner moments later, and she shot him in the kneecap without any hesitation. He screamed in agony, falling to the floor. She shot his other kneecap, and he cried even louder.

Got you, you fucking bastard…

She kicked his weapon away, not that it mattered since she knew his ammo was probably spent.

She leaned over him, tisking at him sarcastically.

Now she was fucking furious. And for him, that was dangerous.

“You know…” she started slowly, panting over him as she circled his figure—like a lion stalking its prey. “You’ve got to be a pretty sick, twisted, sadistic fuck to attack a young mother and her infant child. I can’t imagine the amount of justifying you have to do in your warped mind to make that work.”

He groaned and rolled on the floor like a dying animal.

Moron...

She dropped down to her knees, inching closer. She slid across his blood which pooled below them.

“Tch…you’re so fucking pathetic…” she taunted. “…and I can’t stand pathetic pieces of shit…” she humored, catching her breath. “Now...tell me where Aruel is at. Before I become impatient.”

Her fingers hovered over his injury playfully.

He looked at her in pain, but he remained silent.

She laughed, throwing her head backward slightly.

"Okay then…have it your way.”

She dug her index and middle finger into the gunshot wound, swirling them around inside of the mangled bloody flesh.

He screamed loudly.

She chuckled, smiling down at him.

“So. Pathetic. You can dish it but can’t spoon it?" she sighed and shook her head. "Tell me now. Where. Is. Aruel? Who else is involved in the organization? What is the organization's name?”

She withdrew her fingers, giving him just enough air to speak.

Then she crouched beside him, forearms resting on her knees, occasionally brushing the blood from her eyes as it threatened to sting her vision again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the mother at the doorway—collapsed and breathless, clutching the child as she watched from a distance, where she was finally safe.

He spat at her, it landed on her boot.

“Aww…that wasn’t very nice of you...” y/n breathed sarcastically.

She dug her fingers into the other knee, violently, intentionally finding and plucking his sciatic nerve. His breath hitched before he let out a guttural, blood-curdling scream that could wake the dead.

“You see, I was hoping we could be good friends, share things with one another. There are things I need to know, and unfortunately for you, you’re the only one who is available to provide me with answers…and believe me--you are in no position to refuse.”

He heaved heavily. She untangled her fingers from his flesh.

“Just kill me…they’ll do worse if I talk.”

She shook her head.

“See…that’s the thing…” she teased lightly, frowning at him.

“There’s no one worse for you than me,” she said quietly. “And there’s nothing I won’t do.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering.

“I’ll drag you out into the middle of the woods. Somewhere wet and swampy. Somewhere no one will hear you.”

Her fingers pressed back into the wound.

He screamed loudly and thrashed his head from side to side.

“I’ll leave you there,” she continued, her tone was almost conversational. “Split open and bleeding, but that's not all...I'll slather you and all your wounds in honey and sugar and milk..."

She tilted her head and smiled playfully.

“Let the insects find you first.”

Her grip tightened, and he moaned in agony.

“Then the birds.”

She paused, studying him like she was deciding something.

“Dont worry though, I wont leave you alone forever...I’ll come back,” she added softly, gently nodding her head. “Every day. Just to see how much of you is left.”

Another pause of silence passed with nothing but the sounds of his agony.

“You’ll start to rot eventually,” she sighed.

A faint, humorless smile spread over her lips.

“But don’t worry! That won’t stop me from visiting..."

He heaved and cried helplessly. Not that it mattered. He would get no sympathy from her.

“You tried to kill a mother. Her newborn baby.”

She shook her head in disgust.

“You make me fucking sick. Now start talking. Or your day is about to get a whole lot worse…”

She stood quickly, stomping on his knee brutally. Blood spattered as he cried out.

“Okay! Aruel is trying to flee to the east…Japan!”

Y/n shook her head.

“Oh no, we’re not going to lie to one another. Friendship is based on mutual trust, don’t you know? Don’t be feeding me any disinformation…”

She pressed harder with her boot, grinding into the wound without mercy.

“I swear!” he gasped. “It’s true—he was supposed to leave from Port Paradis, in two weeks, he said! By boat—I heard it from his second-in-command!”

He choked on a breath, words spilling over each other. He began spilling the beans so quickly that y/n could hardly keep up.

“The organization is called Ordo Oculus…Aruel is one of the elite members…he’s been tracking Titan inheritance—fragments, and bloodlines. That’s how we found her!” His eyes flicked toward the doorway. “She’s descended from the original Female Titan line!”

Realization slammed her as it dawned on her that Aruel had already discovered their best kept secret. Her pressure eased slightly off of his wound so that he could form full, complete thoughts through the pain.

“He’s sending his right hand to the port this week,” he rushed on. “He’s expecting Falco Grice to arrive—he plans to kill him the moment he does!”

Y/n’s jaw tightened angrily. So they had been listening to her and Gabi's phone call, and had somewhat cracked her code.

“He doesn’t know the exact day,” the man continued frantically, “or the time...that’s why he wants an assassin waiting there, ready to kill him!”

He coughed, his voice breaking.

“He had plans for Armin Arlert too—but the timing has to be right! He kept saying he’s running out of time—”

A shaky breath escaped her body. Heat rose to her scalp. She could feel rage bubbling to the surface at the mention of Armin. Before she could press him, he answered quickly.

“I don’t know what that means—I swear, I don’t! He only told me what I needed to know! I only know for some reason he's on a time constraint...”

Y/n raised her eyebrows at him before she spoke.

"We thought he would let Falco and Armin pass naturally, and wait to kill their next inheritor...So that's not his plan after all?"

"No!" cried the man. "He said he needs to wrap this up quickly, he's getting anxious because he's failed to even kill one inheritor...He said if he doesn't complete the process soon, he has to wait another thirteen years and hunt them all over again!"

“Who is it?" she asked, quickly changing topics.

"What? Who is what?" his face was twisted with haze and confusion.

"Who is his second in command, you fucking idiot!" she yelled, stomping harder.

“Forster! Franco Forster!” he screamed loudly.

She forgot how to breathe for a quick second.

Floch...

“No fucking shit?" She asked in disbelief. "Any relation to Floch Forster?”

He hesitated. She dug her heel in deeper, he cried out in pain.

“Yes!” He screamed. “His younger brother!"

She stepped back, looking down at him as if he had just told her the cure for a terminal illness.

"Wow...” she leaned back and inch. “You're more useful than I expected you to be.”

Her mind was reeling. Floch had never mentioned having any siblings, yet he had never said much about his personal life at all. He really was just a self-interested prick from the start; he had no time to talk about his family because he was always pissing and moaning about his own personal sufferings.

"Please...help me...It hurts so bad." The man's voice was weak and pitiful; it brought her back to the present. She sucked her teeth at him.

"I suppose you have been helpful...as good friends should be. So I'll oblige you."

He sighed with relief.

She leaned down and grabbed her revolver, standing over him with one foot on either side of his head.

"Wait...no! Please! I told you everything that I know!"

She tisked at him once more.

You know...I came here tonight because I had a vision.” She trailed off slightly, remembering the pain in her chest when she watched the mother die. Feeling the scream that tore through her as Eren held her into his chest. The vision had felt so real and so raw. She hated this man.

He had to die.

Or he would do this again.

“In my vision, I watched you kick that woman and her baby out of the front door, and execute them on the front lawn, just like this..."

She aimed the gun at his head, it never shook. Her hands were steady.

"No! God no!" he screamed.

She pulled the trigger, then let her arm drop next to her, the gun clattered to the floor as she threw her head back and exhaled deeply. Her head pounded.

"I guess it's true what they say..." She huffed, looking back down at his unrecognizable remains.

A cold-blooded murderer? Hunting pregnant women like animals? Part of some evil, organized society of freaks?

Her stomach turned flips. Her mind raced as she thought back to her encounter with him at the fundraiser event in Mitras.

“That night at the gala…” her eyes lifted to Armin. He held her gaze, already piecing it together. “When he tried to hit me—”

Levi’s head turned sharply.

“When he did what?”

“—he saw me protect my abdomen, Armin,” she said, voice tight. “I saw it in his eyes…there was a moment of recognition. It was him. He put the hit out on me. He knew that I was pregnant.”

Silence struck them all. Artur looked as utterly confused as Levi did. Armin’s expression darkened as they shared a look of realization, knowing now that Aruel had always been a step ahead. Y/n felt Levi’s gaze burning into her.

“Anyone want to explain what the fuck I'm hearing right now?" Levi stated through gritted teeth, turning y/n towards him so that she met his eyes. His voice was menacingly low. Y/n didn’t answer him immediately. Her eyes flicked across the open land all the way to the tree line, which swayed in the afternoon breeze.

For some reason, it made her skin crawl.

“Let’s get inside…now,” she said calmly, the complete opposite of how she was feeling inside. No one argued; they all filed in one by one. The door shut behind them with a dull thud.

Y/n paced the floor. Once—twice—three times as the sun outside began to dim into a faded orange hue. She had finished explaining what had happened between Aruel and herself the night of the gala. She explained Historia's abuse. Levi hadn’t spoken a word yet; he appeared to be catching up in his own mind, baffled. He didn’t blink. He just stared at her as if he didn’t even know what to say first.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” he said finally. She cringed internally, knowing nothing good was about to come after that statement. His voice was quiet and flat.

He was beyond pissed.

“Aruel said all of that to you…even tried to lay his hands on you at the gala…And you just... decided not to tell me." He shrugged his shoulders at her, frowning and nodding his head as if he was in complete disbelief. "Historia was taking beatings from this man, and she didn't think to seek any kind of help-- to tell anyone at all?"

Y/n exhaled sharply, throwing a hand up; the other was placed defensively at her hip.

“What was I supposed to do? We had a plan! We needed to interrogate Silas, Levi. You losing focus over some domestically abusive ass-wipe at the gala wasn’t exactly going to be helpful to the mission, you always said the mission comes—"

Levi began grinding his jaw as his eyes cut at her, warning her to shut her mouth without needing to say it.

“Don’t—” he cut in quickly. His tone was small, but she knew it was dangerous. He looked as if he was about to completely snap.

“Don’t give me that...”

“I’m serious, Levi—”

"Bullshit," he finished his sentence despite her talking over him. It was too late to calm him down. He had already heard enough excuses.

“I would’ve handled him,” Levi bit out, the restraint he clung to was starting to splinter apart. “Had him arrested on the spot for threatening you and trying to harm you. For actually harming Historia.”

He stood, pointing his finger accusingly at y/n, his jaw flexing tight.

“Then and there. He wouldn't have been able to put a hit out on you. He'd be rotting in jail..."

His voice dropped lower to a quieter and colder tone.

“If I’d known he laid a hand on Historia… The Queen...”

A moment passed as his gaze burned into y/n whose chest felt tight and anxious now.

“He wouldn’t have seen the inside of a courtroom, bargaining over custody rights and alimony."

Another step closer.

“I would’ve buried him underneath the dungeon. And left him there. Historia has always been far too lenient with this man, and now I find out he literally beats her, and she not only lets him off the hook, but she is offering him visitations and granting him court dates? Maybe you should have taken the crown, because I am seriously starting to doubt her ability to rule..."

“Oh my God, here we go—”

“No!" he shouted, his voice cut clean through hers. His hand slammed down on the table—hard enough to rattle it. He stood from his seat, stepping forward, shins brushing the edge of the table.

“You don’t get to brush this off! Her actions are spineless and weak--"

"Don't fix your mouth to insult my sister," y/n hollered back, slamming her own hand on the console table beside her.

Armin ran both hands through his hair and exhaled, knowing they were probably about to really kick things off.

"You have no idea what it means to be a woman in that situation--the amount of control that the abuser has over you--and you certainly have no idea of all the inner workings of the law, Levi. Watch yourself. She has to follow the proper channels. She designed the law so that everyone has rights that can't be taken from them--even by the ruling monarch themself. Don't speak on what you don't understand."

The room fell completely silent. Y/n was glad that Kaya and the rest of the Braus family had taken Troup out onto the back porch; she would have hated for them to hear her getting this heated.

She didn’t move an inch. She just stared at him.

“All of that is irrelevant. I am your husband,” Levi said, quieter now—but it hit her harder. “You don’t get to keep things like that from me.”

“Armin handled it. I handled it, what good would it have—“

“Handled it?” Levi interrupted, repeating her incredulously.

Then he got louder—

“Handled it? You didn’t handle a damn thing!”

The words hit like a strike.

“Because I watched you die,” he snapped loudly, his voice breaking. “Do you understand that? I watched it happen. And I could’ve stopped it. We could have arrested him that night; he had been warned not to return to Stohess.”

Y/n shifted slightly, but she didn’t back down.

“What good does that do us now?” she asked, steadier than she felt. “I fault myself for being silent, I give you that. And from here on out, I'll tell you everything, if that's what you need. But you’re standing here more pissed that he insulted me and that Historia had leniency on him than the fact that he’s been murdering women.”

Levi’s gaze snapped to her. "Watch your mouth," he barked. "He almost murdered you. Our son. My anger at her lenience and your silence is not misplaced. You two are directly responsible. Because you're both too arrogant to ask for help."

He was cold.

She was silent. The truth of the situation settled in on her, and her chest was swollen with hurt pride.

“This isn’t about wrong or right, y/n,” he cut in sharply. “It’s about you being a target and deciding I didn’t need to know.”

Before she could respond, he turned.

Fast. His eyes locked onto Armin.

“And you.”

Armin straightened slightly. Levi’s voice dropped again, it was dangerously even.

“You saw the mark. You knew what it meant,” Levi quipped. “Why isn’t he already in chains?”

Armin didn’t flinch.

“Because that would’ve been a mistake,” He answered simply. Y/n cringed, knowing Levi wouldn't like that response.

Levi let out a sharp, humorless breath, dragging a hand over his face.

“Unbelievable. All of you."

Armin leaned forward slightly, keeping his tone calm, not to anger Levi any further.

“I put a tail on him,” he said. “Jean’s coordinating it now. If we move too early, we lose him—and whatever network he leads back to.”

Levi said nothing, but he sighed and slowly nodded.

Armin continued.

“Men like him don’t talk,” he added. “You know that. He’d die before giving us anything useful.”

Silence stretched as Levi’s shoulders rose, then fell slowly. He was still tense and on edge, but y/n could see his gears turning now. Grinding the information down into something usable.

“…We don’t let him out of our sight,” Levi muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Y/n and Armin nodded.

"Agreed..." she said quietly.

"And we leave here tonight," he said calmly. "Someone very well could have followed you here...no matter how far or fast you rode. I don't want to bring the Braus' any trouble."

Y/n turned and left towards the bedroom. Already packing her things. Levi went to the Braus' to tell them they would travel by night-cover back to the cabin.

Y/n didn’t argue. She turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, already pulling open drawers, gathering what little they’d brought.

Levi didn’t follow.

He stepped outside instead, finding Artur and Mrs. Braus near the porch. His voice stayed low and controlled as he explained—quick, to the point that they would leave that night, using the darkness as cover to travel back to the cabin. They understood immediately, saying quick goodbyes, and promising to spend much more time together once the dust had all settled and the curse was finally broken.

Within an hour, everything was organized into the saddlebags, and the horses were readied.

Armin, Levi, and Y/n were gone before the night fully settled around them, disappearing into the trees.

Troup slept peacefully against her as they rode along.

The narrow beams of their flashlights cut through the dark, dim and steady, revealing just enough light to guide their path without drawing attention to their movement.

They didn’t speak.

Only the quiet rhythm of hooves and the low hum of the forest followed them.

When they reached the cabin, Levi dismounted first.

He moved inside without a word, sweeping through each room with practiced precision. Checking every corner and illuminating every shadow.

Outside, Armin engaged his ODM gear, disappearing into the treeline to check the perimeter.

Y/n stayed with the horse, holding Troup close, her eyes scanning the darkness, waiting and listening.

They regrouped a few minutes later.

“All clear,” Armin said.

Levi gave a short nod, and only then did they go inside.

The cabin settled around them quickly. Tea was put on, bread was sliced, and some cheese was set out with jam to munch on. Y/n ate slowly, Levi piling more bread onto her plate to be sure she could make plenty of milk and meet all of her needs nutritionally.

No one had the energy for conversation or anything more after the long ride. The quiet wasn’t peaceful this time—it sat heavier, stretched thin over everything left unsaid, their feelings all still scorned. Still, y/n felt some small comfort in the stillness and quiet.

Later, when the lamps were turned low, y/n lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Levi shifted beside her after a moment, hesitating only briefly before pulling her closer. He kissed her neck slowly. He pulled at her hips.

She didn’t stop him. His arm tightened around her firmly, like he needed to make sure she was still there, still with him.

Troup slept soundly in his bassinet nearby; his soft breaths filled the quiet space between them, undisturbed after the long ride. He wouldn't wake up anytime soon.

The room settled into a gentle rhythm as they began to move together. Low sighs and the faint creak of the wooden bedframe surrounded them. Outside, crickets trilled, grass swayed softly, and the distant stream rushed on. The sounds of the night drifted through the open window on a cool, gentle summer breeze, wrapping around them as they tangled together—comforting them, and deepening the quiet euphoria that they created with their bodies.

Later, Levi lay beside her, his chest rising and falling steadily, one arm still draped over her waist.

“I still love you, y/n” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion. “No matter what.”

She turned her head toward him.

The pale moonlight caught his face, softening it. The storm in his gray eyes had calmed now, and he was open in a way he rarely allowed.

No matter what…

Her chest tightened heavily as she thought of all the times "no matter what" had been hard for him to promise her. And yet he did it anyway. He didn't seem it to anyone else, but she found him to be the most gracious person she had ever met.

“I love you too,” she whispered, fingers tightening gently around his hand. “Always.”

A small smile touched his lips, so rare, so soft, and belonging entirely to her--no one else got to witness this Levi.

She let her eyes close, willing sleep to come. She knew she would eventually have to wake to nurse Troup, and would be tired if she didn't fall asleep soon. But even after Levi’s breathing deepened beside her, she stayed awake.

Staring at the ceiling.

Listening to the sounds of the night.

Her thoughts slipped away from her. Away from logic, so far that she could no longer control them. Her mind wandered aimlessly--

to Gabi Grice.

To Falco Grice.

To Historia Reiss.

What they were doing.

Where they were.

Were they safe?

Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under. But her sleep was anything but peaceful.

Sorry that I have been rogue, life is doing its thing on me lol.

She could remember their excited shrills when they would talk about the "ocean," an endless body of salty water, and mountains of ice and fire. How they would use sticks like swords and fence each other, and pretend that they were on grand adventures. Armin would be the titan, while Mikasa, Eren, and y/n pretended to be the Scouts, taking him down. She remembered how Eren’s mother would cook for them before sending them home in the evening. She had been truly happy.

She had belonged somewhere, once, too.

Before everything was taken away from her.

Her father’s death had not been loud. It was no great tragedy, and what with all of the drinking, it was only shocking that he didn’t pass sooner, suffering a massive heart attack. Grisha had done the autopsy. Said his heart had nearly exploded inside of him.

He hadn’t been a 'mean drunk,' and he made enough money to support them, but his death left them to struggle through life. His passing was no great tragedy to anyone but y/n and her mother; there were not many people who mourned him. He had no heroic end. Just a shallow grave.

For some reason, y/n had always found his death to be pathetic.

After his passing, things began to unravel.

Slowly at first. Then all at once.

Her mother had tried. But trying wasn’t enough.

They were forced to move out of their neighborhood, and into the slums. She missed Eren. She thought of Mikasa and Armin often. And she would cry when she was alone at night. But grief did not pay for food, and it did not keep a roof overhead. It didn’t care how much you wanted it to stop tightening its grip.

Starvation and desperation came next.

And desperation was not kind.

The work her mother found was not work she spoke about. Y/n learned quickly not to ask. She learned even faster to pretend she didn’t understand. But children always understand more than they should.

Late nights and strange men.

The way her mother’s eyes stopped meeting hers, completely losing their luster. The way her voice grew quieter and thinner. Something inside of her was slowly being hollowed out. She would leave late at night, lock the rickety door, and come back in the early hours of the morning with enough money for bread that week. Y/n had learned to enjoy the little things. Like the peace and quiet she felt at night. She would daydream in her head that she, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were running away together. That they were older and shared a cabin in the woods, relying only on one another, that they were eating their fill and laughing.

But this was only wishful thinking.

The night it ended was not quiet. Neither was it gentle nor merciful. It was violent and fast. She remembered sensing someone in the house. Mother never brought clients home, but he had offered a lot of money. She remembered the shouting first. Her mother yelled about paying what was owed her.

Then came a loud crash. Y/n sat straight up. Her heart hammered. The shouting turned into screaming.

Then there was nothing. Complete silence.

Someone ran out of the house.

She emerged from behind her bedroom curtain, where she tried to stay hidden. Her mother’s body was on the floor, still and bloody. The blood gushed quickly from her throat. She was unmoving. It didn't make sense for a few moments.

As she stood there watching the blood spill out, in shock and horror, something inside of her shut off forever. Y/n did not scream. She didn’t cry either. She only thought one thing. And she hated herself for the rest of her life for thinking it.

What a pathetic ending.

After that, survival became oddly simple.

Beg, steal, run, repeat.

Hunger gnawed at her constantly, a dull, relentless ache that never truly left. The streets were unforgiving, and she learned quickly that weakness invited danger. So she stopped being weak. Or at least… she learned how to hide it well.

The man found her when she was twelve.

The man with a voice so smooth, and a smile that never quite reached his deep, empty eyes.

He said he had work for her, washing dishes in a tavern in the Underground. He said she would have a visa to return to the surface. Food and safety. Somehow, she knew better, but regardless, she followed. Because there was nothing left to lose; Nothing left to do but starve.

So they went underground. And when they arrived to his home, and that door locked behind her, she learned a valuable lesson.

Men lie.

She learned some other things about men.

That they are evil. That they don’t care who they hurt. That they will take what they want. The married ones—who would take their rings off and set them on the dresser before committing horrible acts. The aggressive ones. The ones that inflicted pain for pleasure. The ones who claimed that they were “actually nice people” but just had “peculiar tastes.”

They were evil. All of them.

Time blurred after the first few weeks.

There was no more sunlight. The bedroom door was always locked. She was brought one meal a day. The room was her never ending prison.

Days bled into nights. Faces became indistinct, and voices were meaningless. Her body no longer felt like her own—just something to be used, something taken, and something that no longer belonged to her. When it happened, she would close her eyes, and let her mind take her far away. She would think of her friends, and dream of their shared cabin. Dream of their laughter. Dream that they were beyond the walls exploring the world. She hoped wherever they were in the world, that they were together. That they were happy. Tears would fall down her cheeks. They were absorbed into the pillow. She wondered how much sadness a pillow could possibly hold. She did all she could to become empty.

Because empty things could not break.

The day she escaped, it hadn’t been planned.

There was no strategy, and no carefully laid plot.

Just a golden opportunity. A man whose brain had grown foggy after his lustful enjoyment. He left behind his knife, which she carefully stored under her tearful pillow.

The bad man came into her room, bringing her food. He informed her that she was lucky not to be on the surface in her old home—that a titan had broken through wall Maria. Her hand reached under the pillow—she gripped the smooth handle of the knife.

He turned his back to her, fumbling with her tray. Adding the stuff that made her tired. That made her docile. He was a fool for turning his back. It was a moment of distraction that he would pay for dearly.

A sudden, violent surge came over her—something that hadn’t quite died inside her, but existed: waiting for the right moment to strike. She didn’t hesitate. The knife slid cleanly into the side of his neck. She twisted it sharply, feeling a sickening tear, and yanked it back out quickly. Warmth spilled over her hands. It sprayed over the walls.

And for the first time in a long time—she felt something.

She felt alive.

As she looked down on his body, only one word came across her lips—

“pathetic.”

She ran without stopping. Without daring to look back. Not until she collapsed somewhere dark, somewhere quiet, somewhere far enough away that the world couldn’t reach her for a moment. She was covered in blood, her hands shaking violently. She had no idea where she was. No visa. No way back to the surface. She escaped one trap only to fall right into another. The authorities would surely arrest her for murder. They would never believe that she had been held captive and tortured—forced to do unspeakable things. They would side with her enemy. They would imprison her— or worse. She hid in that corner until long after the blood had dried on her skin. Her body ached from mistreatment and hunger. She supposed this is how she would die, starving—covered in blood.

That’s where he found her, a man called Kenny. She didn’t trust him. Because all men lie. They are all evil. She told him to stay away, to just let the authorities take her.

He left.

But then he returned, bringing her food. He didn’t ask her to go with him.

He also had a bowl of water and a rag. She flinched at his touch, so he let her clean the blood off herself. She couldn’t explain why this mean-looking man made her feel safe, but she made the stupid decision to trust him. If he wanted sex, surely it was something she could survive just once more.

But he didn’t want it.

He didn’t ask questions, either.

He didn’t offer comfort, and he didn’t pretend to be kind. But he continued to feed her. And his home was clean. He slept in a separate room. He never made her feel scared of him.

He simply looked at her—really looked at her—and saw something worth keeping.

So he did.

Under Kenny, she learned a different kind of survival; it was more organized and precise. She learned how to move without being seen. How to strike without any hesitation. How to use ODM gear as if it were an extension of her own body. And how to pull off one hell of a heist. She knew how to use a knife, how to beat the brass off of a grown man.

He didn’t fix her, but he refined her. He turned her into something dangerous. Something useful. She spent her time underground finding the men who visited the bad man’s house. She killed every one of them that she could find. She felt empowered.

And then, at the age seventeen, the most tender age in a woman’s life—he sold her.

Just like that. There was nothing ceremonious or heartfelt about their parting.

One day she was under his watch.

The next, she belonged to the crown, and they paid him very well for her custody.

As she ascended the stairs back into the sunlight, she looked down on his face, half hidden under his hat. Their eyes didn’t meet, but they didn’t need to for him to know that she found him to be nothing short of pathetic.

The Crown Agents broke her. Not all at once, but systematically and deliberately.

Her body was pushed past its limits again and again until pain became irrelevant. Poisons were introduced in careful doses until her system adapted—or suffered re-administration until it did. She would lurch around on the floor, vomiting and gasping for breath. Every time she gained immunity to one, it was time to start the next. Every time she won a spar, she faced a stronger opponent.

But it was her mind they cared about the most. They stripped it down, piece by piece. They tortured her in many ways, so that she wouldn’t talk if it ever actually came down to it.

They removed any hesitation left in her; they removed every doubt. Removed everything that had once made her human until there was nothing left but obedience. She was a weapon, a beautiful one. Her beauty was unmatched. The way her golden brown hair fell over her soft shoulders—the men couldn’t resist. That’s why it was so easy to entice them into secluded spaces and slit their throats. It's why they were willing to kiss lips that were dripping with poison—belladonna and arsenic, her favorites. They fell for it every time. And when they didn’t? She would sneak quietly through their window in the night, ending the lives of politicians, scientists, and heretics alike.

“Belladonna,” They called her.

The headlines were riddled with mystery, common folk wanted to solve the question surrounding this assassin who killed high-profile men: who is she?

Beautiful on the outside, and empty on the inside. She felt nothing at all, nothing but power and prowess.

That’s why it shocked her when she couldn’t do it.

A child.

Small, fragile, and blonde. Six or seven, sleeping in her bed. Unaware that death had come to pay her a visit. She was ordered to come to this orphanage—to this specific room number, and kill the individual sleeping there. She had figured it would be an adult—someone who worked here. Who had done something unforgivable in The Crown's eyes. But as she looked down on the kid's sleeping figure, she didn't see someone deserving of death.

She saw innocence. She saw familiarity. She saw her own self, laying in that bed.

And she panicked, because she couldn’t do it.

She wouldn’t.

The fact that they would expect her to harm this sweet, sleeping child…it was pathetic.

And she couldn’t stand that.

They would kill the child, too. Regardless of whether y/n finished the job now or not.

So she ran.

Again.

However this time, she didn’t run alone.

The countryside was quiet; it was peaceful in a way that she had never known. Y/n was nineteen now, and it was almost like she had dreamed in her mind—a small cabin with a brook streaming nearby where she would fish the day away with a dram of ale, except she wasn't alone. That little blonde child sat right next to her, talking. Occupying the silence that y/n didn't know how to fill on her own. Days passed without fear. Nights passed without violence. Time slowed and stretched into warm gentleness.

Anastasia laughed, and somehow—so did y/n. When that child rested her head on y/n’s shoulder, she was able to embrace her. Her touch was gentle and earnest. Her demeanor was calming and innocent—something y/n had to protect. She didn’t just feel comfort with her, she felt a connection she couldn’t explain. It was as if she had a sibling.

But the connection, however strong, wasn't enough to outrun inevitability.

The sound came first.

Heavy boots pounding throughout the house.

There were too many. They were already all throughout the house. She could tell by the sound there were at least ten men.

She had grown too comfortable in their peace and solace. She didn't move around often enough. She stayed in one place—and now she would pay for it.

She told Annastasia to run. She tried desperately to fend off the attackers, but they had the same training, and they overwhelmed her quickly. People she had once worked closely with now turned on her. Her enemy. Because she had become an enemy of the crown when she failed to carry out her mission. When she deserted. She had forgotten what she was—

Their property.

Anastasia didn’t make it far. They dragged her back into the house. They pushed y/n to her knees in the living room floor, and blood dripped from her face onto the hardwood. They broke her arm and bound her hands. Someone grabbed her by the crown of her head, yanking her chin upwards. Her eyes met Anastasia’s—the same beautiful color blue as her own. Her head was held up by her hair, also. They were forcing them to make eye contact.

Anna screamed. She was scared.

Y/n looked up at the man holding her. She knew him. Had trained with him.

“Seth…please! Don’t hurt her—just me!”

The blade moved faster than Y/n could process.

The blood was bright and immediate. It splattered on her face.

Anastasia’s body crumpled into a heap as Seth let go of her hair.

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

Like she was trying to speak.

Trying to breathe.

Trying to—beg her for help. Y/n wanted to hold her. She wanted to put pressure on the wound—to try to mend it. But it wouldn’t matter. The cut was far too deep to be repaired.

A sound so eerie and loud escaped y/n that she didn’t even recognize it as her own voice. She screamed. She said no. She begged please. They didn’t care. They dragged her away violently, leaving the door open for wild animals to feed on the only thing she had ever truly loved. She watched as Annastasia’s mouth gaped open and shut. She watched Anna die as they dragged her away. As Anna bled to death on their living room floor, where they had played cards just the day before.

Y/n’s mind raced, but her thoughts all converged back into one thought:

I couldn’t save her—

I am truly pathetic.

“Seth!”

Her voice broke on the name; she choked and coughed up water as they removed the towel, readying another bucket to torture her once again. Her fingernails had all been ripped off two weeks ago. Ribs bruised—though they felt more likely broken—the week before that, along with her fractured arm, which had happened the night of Anna’s death. Time was foggy, but somewhere in between all of that, her eyes had been swollen along with her busted lips and knotted head. She bled from different places—unfortunately, not enough to kill her.

She didn’t care about the pain. Only one face burned into her memory. The man who slit Anna’s throat. Who slaughtered her in cold blood. Who stood over the body like it meant nothing.

“I’LL KILL YOU, MARK MY WORDS! I’ll be the last thing you ever see—"

The towel was back over her face.

“I’ll kill you—!”

She was tilted back in her chair.

The water drowned her. She struggled to breathe. She wanted to scream.

She wanted to die.

The basement reeked of damp stone and iron.

Water dripped somewhere in the distance constantly. A sound that had long since stopped bothering her. She just hoped they would kill her sometime soon. Get it over with.

Y/n sat bound to a wooden chair, her fractured arm twisted behind her back and tied in place. The position forced her shoulders tight, and her spine rigid. Every shallow breath pulled against broken ribs that were desperate to heal.

Her fingernails had grown back—uneven, and paper-thin. Not whole just yet. But she didn’t want them to be. They would just tear them off again as soon as they healed.

Her head hung forward, soaked strands of hair clinging to her face. Blood—dried and fresh—marred her skin in various locations. Her cracked lips were split. Her eyes were still slightly swollen. She hadn’t eaten in about a week.

But she was breathing. That was all they needed to punish a traitor.

Something scraped against the stone floor, outside the door and footsteps followed. She didn’t look up, and she didn’t brace herself because she just didn’t care anymore. The door creaked open, but not with the usual force and impatience of her captors.

It opened quietly and softly.

That was wrong.

Her brow twitched faintly, she almost cared to look up. They were just toying with her—that’s all. Through the blur of exhaustion, something inside of her chest lurched. Boots echoed across the floor in large steps. This person was unhurried. These were not the eager steps of a man who enjoyed what would come next.

“Untie her.”

The voice cut clean through the room, calm and unquestionable.

Oh?

Y/n’s eyes lifted—just slightly.

She saw a tall, blonde haired man with thick eyebrows and clear blue eyes. He wore a green cloak with the wings of freedom. He was standing still, very composed. He looked down on her with pity, but he didn’t seem horrified, as someone should when looking on such a sad sight.

This man had seen violence.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” she grumbled through bloody lips, her head hanging back forward with a slight bounce.

One of the men scoffed.

“She’s not finished here.”

The blonde individual didn’t look at him. Just spoke to him out of the side of his neck, as if he couldn’t be bothered.

“She is now.” He said firmly. “If I waited until next week, like we had agreed, she’d be dead left in your ‘care’.”

There was a shift in the air, but it was thick enough to make her assailants uncomfortable.

“Don’t try playing their emotions Mister—they don’t have any.” Y/n barely recognized her own voice as she spoke, her throat burned from inhaling so much water—all of the coughing and screaming. “The only thing they haven’t taken up with yet is rape, and by that, I must say, I am honestly shocked. Maybe they just haven’t had enough time.”

She spat blood on the floor in the direction of her captor, glaring holes through him.

He lurched at her to take a swing.

“Why you little fucking—“

“Enough!” The scout stepped in between them. “I said untie her. Now.”

“You don’t give orders here,” another muttered from the corner.

The blonde man gave him a threatening glare. It was enough to stifle any further argument out of him.

“I’ve come to collect what belongs to the Scout Regiment.”

His tone didn’t rise, because it didn’t need to. His word was final.

“She is not yours to continue maiming.” He paused. “Shes under my protection now.”

The room was silent for a small moment.

“She’s crown property,” one of them said. “You don’t just take—”

“I’ve already paid for her contract. I bought it out. She had five years left to serve for the crown when she deserted. I paid it in full—and then some.”

Y/n wondered who would pay for someone as fucked up as her. She chuckled. The man shot her a strange and confused look.

“How much?” another asked.

“Enough.” The scout’s gaze remained steady. “More than she’s worth to you like this.”

He gave her a brief, calculated stare.

They hesitated for a moment.

“And if we refuse?”

He didn’t move, and didn’t blink.

“If you refuse,” he said, “you interfere with a military acquisition under my command.” He eyed them all slowly.

“And I will respond accordingly.” He finished

“Are you threatening us, Commander?”

The scout met his gaze.

Unflinching.

“Yes.”

He paused before continuing.

“If any harm comes to her beyond this point—without provocation from her—” he continued, “the Scout Regiment will consider it an act of hostility.”

There was a slight tilt of his head.

“And we will respond.”

The silence was heavy and final. Y/n watched through half-lidded eyes.

They were bargaining. Over her. Again.

“And the terms?” one pressed.

“She comes with me.”

Time stopped.

“She does not return to you.”

Again.

“And she does not act against you.” He added.

“And if she leaves my custody,” he added, “you may consider her forfeit.”

Her jaw tightened.

Great.

Another cage, with different walls and the same outcome.

“And if she comes after us?”

They were afraid of her. She chuckled aloud. The blonde Commander ignored her.

They should be, because I definitely will.

“She won’t.” His words contradicted her thoughts.

“And if she does,” he said calmly, “you won’t need to stop her.”

A beat passed.

“I will.”

That settled it. They gave a reluctant nod.

“Fine.”

The man turned to her.

“Now untie her.”

The ropes were cut, and her arm dropped first slumping awkwardly at her side, she winced. Pain tore through her shoulder—sharp, and immediate—she moaned in pain. They pulled her upright quickly in the chair, their hands were unforgivably rough.

For a moment, she just sat there, breathing. Barely existing. The man stepped in front of her. Close enough that she could finally see him clearly.

“Y/n, I am Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scout Regiment. You’re coming with me.”

A weak, broken laugh slipped from her lips. Her head tilted, eyes dragging up to meet his.

“…you should just let them kill me, okay?” she rasped. “Truly…I have nothing else left to live for.”

It was the honest truth. She had lost the one thing that made her life worthy. Without Anna, she was nothing but a murderess. What good could come of her continued existence?

Erwin didn’t answer immediately.

“No,” he said at last—slowly. He looked at her from head to toe, studying her carefully. “I don’t waste potential. And I hear rumors that you have plenty…”

She slumped forward in defeat. Erwin caught her small frame in his arms, scooping her up in one fell swoop. He ascended the stairs of the basement and through the compound, her body lulled loosely with each step he took. The night air shocked her as he stepped outside. It was spring time, so the evening wind bit coolly, seeing how she was was damped from head to toe, covered in blood and water.

“See you soon, bitch.” A voice called after her.

Seth…

“I know you better. You won’t be able to stay away. And when you come looking—you’ll only find trouble.”

“Don’t react. It’s not worth it.” Erwin warned.

Y/n laughed softly. She wanted to remind him that she could barely speak or walk, let alone jump up to address any provocation.

Erwin opened the door to a carriage, and placed her inside the cab. He climbed in after, and seated himself next to a young man who also wore a green cloak. This man was holding handcuffs.

“I apologize for any inconvenience…but just as a precaution you will have to wear these during our trip.” Erwin said.

Oh. Great.

She was too weak to hold out her hands, the brown headed young man cuffed her quickly, loosely. If she had any strength left she could easily slip them. But she had a feeling she wouldn’t be evenly matched for Commander Erwin—even in her best shape.

He smiled at her warmly, a complete 180 from the Erwin she had just met in the cellar.

“I’d like to be the first to officially welcome you to humanities vanguard, The Scout Regiment.”

“Wonderful…” she groaned.

And just like that—she belonged to someone else.

Completely under his will.

All she had left was a quiet, fragile hope—

that this man wasn’t pathetic too.

Even worse, if they did reach their thirteen year mark with no resolution, they would have two more inheritors to search for, giving this newly discovered secret society more time to hunt and kill the inheritors. The alternative was to pass the titan power on—restarting the vicious cycle.

Y/n huffed.

She knew the people in the secret society they uncovered during the search for McCarty’s research would eventually find a way around the inheritors powers that were protecting them—everyone has a weakness. She couldn’t deny that their powers were strong—Troup had caused her attacker to have an aneurism and he hadn’t even been born yet.

But she couldn’t rely on their titan powers alone to protect them—no one was invincible. Eren had taught them that. They needed to stop the organization altogether.

To completely squander it.

As her thoughts hung on Eren her heart ached and stung in her chest.

She wondered what he knew towards the end that he was keeping to himself. She wondered if he had to die in order for them to be able to accomplish what they were orchestrating now. For her child to be born.

She supposed she was just trying to see Eren in a different light—create a story in her mind that didn’t paint him as a villain.

She remembered the immediate aftermath of the rumbling. The putrid smell of burning rubble and flesh that hung over Marley for years. She remembered how hard Levi had taken the loss of their child—he had dove into work, hardly ever sleeping.

After healing, so did she.

She was thankful for her thoughts to be interrupted by the squeaking spring of the screen door, and its gentle pop as it swung shut. Levi stepped out—shirtless—holding Troup against his chest, who was wriggling in his arms—enjoying skin-to-skin time—a soft blanket slung over them.

She looked over and nodded.

“Good morning…”

He gave her a half smile.

“And to you.”

“We have to go to the Brauns today. I need to speak to Gabi and Falco.”

He paused. Then nodded.

“Mmm. I’ll pack a bag, our ODM gear, and Troup’s carrier…”

His gaze shifted toward the old truck sitting crooked in the grass.

“Horse’ll be more reliable than that thing.”

“Not faster,” she pointed out.

“Can’t go eighty through a forest full of trees,” he replied dryly. “And a horse doesn’t overheat…or break down.”

She nodded, smiling at her husband who was hopelessly stuck in the past. “Horseback it is.”

He crossed over and lowered himself into the chair beside her, studying her face more closely now.

Troup squirmed softly against him, letting out a quiet huff. Levi adjusted his hold, gently rubbing his back until the baby settled again. His free hand reached out, fingers threading through hers and tightening, grounding her.

“Whatever’s running through that head of yours—drop it.”

She looked at him, then exhaled softly. His face was gentle, but she could see the worry underneath.

“Alright… alright.”

He wasn’t wrong.

She was exhausting herself—living in the past, and fearing what could happen in the future. They sat in silence for a while longer, she held onto his hand, allowing it to comfort her, quiet settled around them instead of pressing in on them.

She enjoyed the sound of the cicadas. Of Levi’s breathing. Of Troup’s gentle grunts and coo’s.

Then Levi leaned in, bringing her to the present as he pressed a soft kiss just behind her ear before standing and turning inside to get ready for the trip.

Armin

Every morning, just before waking, Armin dreamt of Annie.

And every morning, he woke with the same quiet disorientation, with her touch still lingering, phantom-like, against his chest.

He inhaled sharply, pushing himself upright. For a moment, he just sat there, hands covering his face, trying to steady his breathing. His thoughts felt tangled like threads pulled too tight, they were impossible to separate.

Slowly, he dragged his hands down, blinking until the room came into focus.

The royal quarters in Stohess were… excessive. Spacious, polished and just almost suffocating in their perfection.

A room fit for a king.

Armin swallowed.

He didn’t feel like one.

He felt… uncertain and messy. Like he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand.

Historia had been close to panic when he and Connie arrived. The reports around the capital alone were enough—attacks increasing, and they were not just random; this organization they discovered was deliberately targeting pregnant women, desperately hoping to kill inheritors. They hadn't figured out about the titan fragments passing through the bloodlines of the original nine, and everyone was paying for it now.

So much unnecessary death.

It wasn’t just fear spreading through the people—it was doubt.

Doubt in Historias ability to rule her subjects.

And then there was Aruel.

Armin’s jaw tightened slightly at the thought of him.

Legal pressure, public manipulation, attempts to strip her of custody even though he had all but abandoned the children. To make matters worse he was attempting to strip her of her power—of everything she had fought hard to protect.

“I created this system to hold royalty and government accountable…”

Her voice from the night before echoed in his mind. It was thin, and exhausted.

“I can only blame myself.”

He had watched her helplessly, standing by the fire with a glass in her hand that she didn’t even seem to taste.

“I’m terrified, Armin…”

She hadn’t looked at him when she said it.

“I think he’ll have me killed… and take everything. If something happens to me...y/n will have to step up and take her place...at least until Anwen can come of age.”

Armin exhaled slowly, her words haunted him even now in the light of day.

He had told her that wouldn't happen. Held her while she cried. Told her what she needed to hear. Promised her what he wanted to believe.

But promises didn’t make him certain.

And certainty was what she needed.

She needed someone beside her, ruling with her. It was just the way the world was: the people wanted a strong male figure next to her.

Someone steady, who could help carry all of this.

He didn’t blame y/n for refusing the crown. Not really. She would have made for a strong and powerful ruler, and with Levi she would have been absolutely unstoppable. But it’s not the life she yearned for.

Armin didn’t blame Levi either. For forcing Historia into the roll. At the time, there hadn’t been another option.

Eldia had needed a ruler.

And y/n hadn’t even been discovered as one of Rod Reiss's illegitimate children until after Wall Maria, the documents in Grisha's basement had laid out the bloodlines of Royalty. She was the eldest--the first heir to the throne.

…Still.

Armin closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose.

There were things he could blame.

Himself, for one.

For crossing a line he had no right to cross the night before. For kissing Historia.

And for not stopping there.

“…reckless,” he murmured under his breath; the word was almost lost in the quiet. He let himself fall back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Would Annie have wanted him to move on? The thought came gently—but the answer came to him immediately.

No.

A faint, almost humorless breath left him.

She would’ve been furious, probably killed him.

But Annie was gone. His chest tightened.

He didn’t have much time left. Less than two years. That reality sat heavier than anything else. It wasn’t fair to Historia. He knew what it felt like to lose someone like that—to watch time run out while there was still so much left unsaid.

And yet…he wasn’t able to stop himself wanting her.

His thoughts caught up to him.

There has to be a way.

Eren wouldn’t have fought this hard to reach y/n in visions and dreams… not unless there was something left to reach.

There was a chance, even if it was a small one.

Armin’s fingers curled slightly against the sheets. It was a thin hope, but it was still hope. And that had always been enough for him. He exhaled, pushing himself upright again. No more lingering.

The bedside clock read 8:00 a.m.

Late.

He dressed quickly, his movements were automatic, and his mind was already turning over what would come next.

Historia.

Aruel.

The divorce papers.

The consequences of last night…

His hand paused briefly at his collar as he dressed.

How was he supposed to face her? Like nothing had happened, when he had taken her in the most intimate way the night before. He remembered the way she moaned…and how her golden hair fell around his face as she leaned down to kiss him, moving on top of him….

He sighed, trying to regain control of himself.

Did she want to? Be with him? Were they even thinking clearly? Or just reacting to grief, pressure, and loneliness—

You’re spiraling.

He closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself.

Focus.

Y/n’s vision of Anna and the mission. That came first.

It had to.

But not just yet.

Not this morning.

This morning, Historia needed him.

And that mattered too.

When Armin entered the meeting room, he did so quietly.

Historia was already there, reading the paper with concern over a hot cup of coffee. She always faced things head-on—even when they terrified her. He had always admired that, because it was a quality he found important in himself.

The children were gone. That alone told him everything; she didn’t want them knowing Aruel would be here.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Her reaction was immediate—too quick, too bright. A smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, a faint flush in her cheeks as she looked up at him.

“…hey.”

Armin hesitated, then stepped closer.

“The kids…?”

“They’re in the village for the day,” she said, fingers fidgeting slightly. “I thought it would be better… for now.”

He nodded.

There was a pause, long and heavy.

“About last night—” he started carefully.

She shook her head almost instantly, standing.

“Don’t. Please.”

Her voice was steady—but only just.

“It’s okay. We were… overwhelmed. I was alone and scared, and you—” she faltered slightly, then pushed through it, “—we just… went too far. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Armin studied her. She didn't mean that—not at all.

Her words meant nothing. Not in comparison to her expression and body; it was telling him a completely different story as her chest rose and fell visibly, her eyes searched his—as if they were begging for something more.

He stepped closer, slower this time.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked quietly. “For it not to mean anything?”

Her breath caught deep in her throat, and she swallowed hard as she met his eyes. The tension was heavy between them.

"…no,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

Then, softer—

“But I can’t lose anyone else.”

That hit harder than anything else she could have said. Armin nodded once, understanding.

“I won’t let it come to that,” he said, and there was something firmer in his voice now. “We’ll find a way to break the curse.”

He brushed her cheek, she softened under his touch.

“I’ll find a way.”

He held her gaze.

“…will you wait for me?”

Her answer came immediately.

“Yes.”

This time, her smile was real. A sharp, electric warmth startled inside of him as she looked at him. He felt alive.

His heart stuttered in his chest, God he wanted to kiss her…

And then—

The doorknob turned.

Armin stepped back immediately, the moment snapping like it had never existed.

“Your Grace,” the guard announced. “He’s arrived.”

Armin glanced at Historia, giving a small nod.

“I’m right here.”

She nodded back.

The doors opened again a few minutes later.

Guards filled the room first—efficient, and controlled, they filled every corner of the room. Armin shifted without thinking, placing himself between Historia and the entrance.

Then Aruel entered.

Confident and smug, like he already believed he had won. His eyes landed on Armin, and he scoffed. Armin wanted to wipe that look clean off of his face.

“Back again,” he drawled. “Protecting the princess’s sister this time? Does Levi always keep you this close to the Reiss bastards, or are you just his favorite guard dog?”

Armin didn’t react.

Not outwardly. Provocation like this was predictable. And predictable things were easy to manage. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, offering a small, almost polite smile.

“How’s your head?” he asked. “Last time I saw you it was cracked open.”

Aruel’s expression soured instantly, likely remembering how Armin slammed him into the wall the night of the gala when he had lurched at y/n.

Good.

“The papers are on the table,” Armin said calmly, holding his gaze. “Do what you came here to do. Sign them.”

He paused, boring holes into Aruel with his gaze.

“And when you’re done…”

His tone didn’t rise, but it didn’t leave room for misunderstanding, either.

“…don’t ever come back.”

Aruel glared at him coldly, then turned and picked up the pen resting neatly atop the papers. The notary flipped through each page, calmly explaining how the divorce proceedings would unfold. When Aruel reached the page relinquishing his rights to the children, he hesitated.

Armin was stunned that he hesitated at all.

Not after what Historia had told him the night before—how many times Aruel had threatened to kill the children just to control her, how she had taken beatings to keep him from laying a hand on them.

Then Aruel rolled up his sleeve.

Armin’s eyes narrowed.

There, just above his wrist, was a marking. A tattoo.

Holy shit.

There it was.

What he had been searching for all along.

The meaning behind Y/N’s vision.

Tattooed on the inside of Aruel’s wrist was an eye enclosed within a circle.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

Levi

The ride through the woods was gentle.

Y/n sat on the horse, cradling Troup, with Levi behind her holding the reins. Having her there—between his arms, the baby nursing quietly against her chest—felt…right.

He found himself listening to the rhythm of the forest. Her soft humming. The faint, steady sound of Troup suckling.

It settled something deep in his tired mind.

His chest felt light; for once, he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Levi kept the reins steady, his arms framing her naturally—she belonged there. She always had. When she leaned back into him with the motion of the horse, settling without hesitation, something in his chest eased at the weight of her against him. He loved the way she trusted him.

Only him.

He adjusted his grip subtly, ensuring she stayed secure. Before long, the trees began to thin. The forest opened, and the outskirts of the village came into view. Another mile, and the Braus' farm appeared in the distance.

Golden grass stretched endlessly, swaying softly in the breeze. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney of a low, weathered house, its wooden frame worn smooth by years of sun and rain. Fences lined the property, aged and sturdy, enclosing grazing land where a few animals moved slowly through the field. The scent reached his nose pleasantly.

Earth, hay woodsmoke and livestock.

It felt like home. If he’d ever had one…this is what he imagined it would feel like. It wasn’t grand, and it wasn’t polished. But it settled him inside.

He could tell Y/n didn’t share the same feeling upon arrival.

She unlatched Troup, who immediately began to fuss, his small face scrunching as he cried. Y/n’s entire body tensed.

“You alright?” Levi asked, trying to study her expression—difficult with her facing forward in the saddle still. But the way she bounced Troup, just a little too urgently, told him everything.

“Haven’t been here since…” she trailed off. “Since the day before the battle of Port Paradis. Historia and I…we didn’t leave on good terms from this place.”

He nodded. She never gave him all the details—but she didn’t need to. She had been pregnant. In hiding after the Yeagerists had taken over, and the rumbling had begun. She could have lain low here and been safe. Then helped Historia take back her throne. And still, she chose to go. Because she couldn’t sit back and let the people she loved die.

So she left. And paid for it with the life of their unborn child.

Levi had always blamed it on Eren. Easy. If he hadn't started the rumbling, it never would have happened. She would have been left with more options.

But he knew she blamed herself.

Still…without her, they never would’ve secured the plane or the aircraft carrier. They would’ve likely died at the port. He reached forward, gently squeezing her thigh.

“You need to stop punishing yourself for that,” he said, voice low and even. “None of it was your fault.”

She exhaled, heavily.

“I keep thinking…” she murmured, eyes fixed ahead. “If I had just listened to Historia…maybe Troup would’ve been a second child…”

Levi’s jaw tightened.

“We all would’ve died at the port, myself included,” he said firmly. "He wouldn’t exist. Stop doing this to yourself.”

She didn’t respond—just sighed again as Troup squirmed in her arms, unsettled.

“…Let’s just go greet everyone,” she said softly.

Levi dismounted first, securing the reins before reaching up to take Troup from her. Then he offered his hand, steady as always, helping her down. A large figure stepped out from the farmhouse.

It was Artur Braus. Levi hadn't seen him since Sasha's funeral.

“Well, look at the Ackermans…” Artur called warmly. “Three of you, now!”

Levi stepped forward, offering his hand. Artur took it firmly.

“Still no smile out of you, huh?” he teased.

Levi smirked faintly. “Not often.”

Artur turned to Y/n, immediately pulling her into a hug.

“How could I forget the tenacious Y/n Ackerman?”

She held onto him a moment longer than expected before stepping back.

“Where’s Mrs. Braus? And Kaya?”

“They went into town,” Artur replied. “Wanted to stock up for the week. Probably picking up games too—we all remember who dominates at cards," he nudged her with his elbow.

Y/n let out a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“And who’s this?” Artur nodded toward the baby.

Levi adjusted the blanket slightly, giving him a better view.

“This…” he said quietly, “…is Troup Farlan Ackerman.”

Artur smiled. Something in his expression shifted and softened, but Levi could tell by the look on his face that his heart was heavy.

“I’ll be…” he murmured. “Handsome little thing.”

He stepped closer, hands out.

“May I?”

Levi didn’t hesitate. He carefully passed Troup into his arms. Artur cradled him gently, his large hands impossibly careful.

“Wow…” he whispered. “I forgot what this felt like.”

Levi’s chest tightened. He knew exactly who Artur was thinking about. His only biological daughter. Sahsa. And the kind of grief that never really leaves.

“Come on in,” Artur said after a moment, still smiling down at the baby. “Got a room ready for you.”

Inside, the house was just as Levi remembered. Warm and lived in. He hadn't been there since her funeral, but Sasha was everywhere. In the photos on the walls, in her items that were placed throughout the house, forming a sort of shrine in her honor.

“Coffee or tea?” Artur asked.

“Tea,” Levi answered.

Y/n was already moving. Levi scoffed to himself.

She just never stops.

“Mr. Braus…may I use your phone?” she inquired.

“Of course,” Artur said gently. “Study’s down the hall to the right.”

Levi took Troup back into his arms, settling him against his chest as Artur pulled out a kettle and lit the gas stove. They settled into quiet conversation. His gaze followed Y/n as she took off down the hallway without another word, on the hunt for the phone.

Y/n

When she reached the study at the end of the hallway, she quietly closed the door behind herself. She made her way over to the rotary phone on the desk. It would be a long-distance call, definitely not with enough strength, as the phones in Stohess, she would have to leave some cash with the Braus' for the long-distance charge.

She picked up the phone. It rang for a moment, cutting in and out.

"C'mon, please, fuck." she muttered under her breath.

The line picked up.

"Operator... Marley—Liberio District—Maypol Ave." She said hastily.

"Connecting," came the operators voice.

She waited as it rang.

"Pick up...Pick up Gabi."

The line clicked, she held her breath.

"Grice residence?"

It was Gabi.

"Gabi, it's me!" she breathed into the reciever.

"Y/n?! OH my GOD!" her voice was shrill and fast. "How DARE you not call me sooner? Where are you? Did you find any more inheritors? Did you deliver the—"

"Gabi! Say NOTHING else!" y/n cut in hastily.

"My line is secure, but I can't guarantee your line hasn't been compromised."

There was a pause.

"Gabi...are you there?" y/n almost whispered into the receiver.

"Yes..." she said plainly. Y/n could tell she was scolding herself on the other end of the line.

She had to be punctual and fast, knowing someone was likely listening.

“Let's keep this simple...You remember how we practiced, I'm sure?"

You know exactly how I taught you...

A brief pause.

"I understand," said Gabi. She caught on quickly—it wasn't safe to speak plainly.

“I need you to check the weather out east."

Get to Port Paradis.

She could hear Gabi scrawling on a sheet of paper.

"It’s shifting fast—you’ll want to leave tomorrow if you plan on arriving by market day.”

Things are changing fast here, so arrange your departure immediately.

Gabi continued scrawling, then paused—waiting on the date.

Y/n glanced at the calendar, double-checking that she was right.

"Two hours from now, I’ll have someone waiting at the docks with fresh supplies.”

Two days from now, I'll arrange for someone to pick you up from there.

Her tone lowered, more deliberate.

“And don’t forget your good friend, the Mandible-bird, he needs those supplies."

Falco comes with you, no exceptions.

A breath.

“I promise I'll explain everything in greater detail soon...”

Gabi sighed into the receiver.

"Clear skies on my end here—I'll make those arrangements to pick up the supplies quickly for you..."

Gabi will come with Falco. Two days. Port Paradis.

"Good to hear. Leave Lemrick in charge of your nest while you pick up... He's been known to feed the hatchlings. But don't share with anyone about those supplies...They're carefully packed, after all."

Leave Lemrick in charge of the CPA, don't tell anyone else that you're coming, it's too dangerous.

There was a pause.

"Alright. Can't wait to unbox those items..." she said in a confident voice.

Y/n smiled slightly.

I can't wait to see you, either.

"I love you. Be safe. Do as I say, exactly as I say." y/n finished.

Gabi paused. "I love you too..." she whispered.

The line clicked, and a dial tone ensued. Y/n put the phone back on the receiver with a sigh.

Thank God I taught that girl some code...

She swiveled slowly in the chair, her heart leaping in her chest.

In just two days… she would hug Gabi in her arms again.

The thought alone made her chest ache. She loved her like a sibling. She thought of Annastasia and Historia. Her heart cracked deeper down the middle.

She quickly shook the thought.

She reached for the phone again without hesitation, dialing the Scouts’ headquarters—asking the operator for Jean's direct line. It was answered quickly. Although Jean could tell her by her voice, he didn't want to give her away.

“Go ahead, let's keep this simple..." He said, already guarded.

They spoke only in code.

He relayed that Mikasa, using McCarty’s research, had identified two more inheritors—the Cart and the Beast. Both were infants. Both already showing signs. They were being transported to headquarters under protection until a safer location could be secured. Jean’s tone shifted slightly as he continued—he needed her there. To confirm.

They were almost certain… but almost wasn’t enough for him.

She agreed, but told him Levi would take some convincing.

Then, just as quickly, she made her own demand—

He was to be at Port Paradis in two days, with a full Scout detail, ready to receive Gabi and Falco Grice.

No delays. No excuses.

Jean didn’t argue.

The line went dead. Y/n sighed outwardly, trying to breathe out the stress.

Only two left.

The Female.

The Attack.

"I'm trying Eren..." she murmured to herself, "Really trying my ass off here to do what you said." She leaned back in the swivel chair, chin towards the ceiling as she spoke softly to the nothingness, hoping somewhere out there he could hear her.

"Better not let me down this time..."

The rest of the evening at the Braus farm passed quietly.

Peacefully.

Kaya and Mrs. Braus returned not long after the call, arms full of supplies and laughter that filled the house with a warm spirit. Cards were brought out, wine poured freely, and for a few hours, the weight of everything lifted just enough for them to breathe.

They spoke of Sasha often—favorite memories, old stories, the kind that made you laugh and ache at the same time. Y/n recalled covering for her after she stole meat from the officer's pantry and the time she bit Connie in the mess hall.

Troup thrived in the liveliness.

Unlike his father, he adored attention—passing easily from arm to arm, offering gummy smiles to whoever held him. Mr. and Mrs. Braus bickered playfully over whose turn it was to hold him next--Artur refused to hand him over at one point, claiming "He felt like a proud grandpa."

For a moment… everything felt normal. Something Levi and y/n were strangers to.

The next afternoon, the weather was soft and forgiving.

Levi worked outside with Artur, repairing fence posts beneath the afternoon sun, while Y/n and Kaya tended to the garden. Dirt clung beneath Y/n’s nails as she dug up carrots and potatoes; the rhythm of her work was grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.

Troup rested nearby in a shaded bassinet, content and quiet after his afternoon feeding.

Y/n didn’t speak of Gabi's impending arrival.

Not out of secrecy—but out of respect.

The Braus family had forgiven… but forgiveness didn’t erase grief. And Y/n wouldn’t reopen that wound unless she had to. So she kept that piece of excitement to herself.

The sun began its slow descent, painting the fields gold.

Kaya lifted another basket of potatoes, turning toward the house—

And paused.

Y/n followed her gaze.

A figure was approaching from the distance.

Fast.

A lone rider.

The horse tore across the field, cutting through the tall grass without slowing. Levi noticed next, positioning himself between the approaching rider and his wife and child. She noticed him pulling something from the back waistband of his denim jeans.

A handgun.

Artur stood beside him.

"Go inside." Levi barked. Y/n didn't move, she tried to make out the figure.

"Now." he snapped. She began to move, but then noticed...

"It's a scout!" she said, picking Troup up, and holding him to her chest.

"Doesn't matter, do what I say." Levi quipped back.

By the time the rider reached the edge of the property, the horse was lathered in sweat, breath heaving. The figure barely waited for it to stop before swinging down. Levi rushed over. Y/n and Kaya watched from the doorway.

"It's Armin," she breathed, handing the baby to Kaya and running outside.

He looked wrecked.

Dust clung to his clothes, his hair disheveled, chest rising and falling like he hadn’t stopped for air in miles. She arrived at the edge of the fence on the property line, shoulder to shoulder with Levi.

“What happened?”

Armin didn’t answer immediately. His eyes found Y/n first. Something close to fear was buried beneath his expression.

“I found him,” he said.

A beat passed as he caught his breath.

“The Mystery Man..."

Silence fell heavily over them. Armin looked deranged as he met her gaze with sharp blue eyes.

“…It’s Aruel.”

The way he looked at you—like you were something beneath his boot.

Levi was harsh with everyone; that much was true. But you weren’t blind—you saw it. He did care to a certain degree. Like the way his eyes tracked his squad during missions, always counting.

He did care.

Just not about you.

With you, there was no restraint. No quiet understanding. Just cold scrutiny—sharp and unrelenting.

And that made your blood burn. Because you knew what you were worth. You were strong—strong enough to stand beside the best of them. Mikasa included.

You didn’t ever break formation out of panic.

You did it because you refused to stand there and watch someone die when you could do something about it.

And every time—

he made you pay for it.

He would call you reckless. Airheaded. Or a dipshit.

Once, he’d even snatched you by the front of your cloak, yanking you close, his voice lethal as he tore into you for breaking ranks—publicly.

For “endangering the squad.”

For being selfish.

Selfish.

The word still made your head hurt.

You’d snapped back sometimes—chin high, refusing to be spoken to like you were dirt when you were only doing your job. It was your life to throw away. Not his. And still, he looked you dead in the eye and told you that you weren’t saving people for them.

You were doing it for yourself, he said.

So here you stood during morning muster, shoulder to shoulder between Connie and Jean, boots planted firm despite the tension coiling tight in your chest. Levi stood at the front, going over assignments.

It would be a dull day with no missions lined up.

Levi moved down the line, inspecting.

Then—he stopped.

Right in front of you.

Of course.

You felt it before you looked—his scrutiny, heavy and suffocating. Your stomach jumped, but you forced yourself to stay still. His eyes dragged from your head to your boots.

“Next time,” he said flatly, “try starching your uniform.”

He paused, eyeballing you from head to toe.

“It looks like shit.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but of course it did. Because as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted his approval.

“Yes, sir.”

You kept your gaze forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Still, you felt his gaze linger a second too long before he moved on. When he was out of earshot, you exhaled, glancing at Jean.

“I swear,” you muttered, “he catches one whiff of my ass and comes crawling out of nowhere.”

Jean snorted. Connie barely held it together.

“I’m serious,” you pressed. “He’s always looking for something...”

“Maybe he likes you,” Connie said.

You shot him a look. “Yeah. I can just feel the affection.”

When they broke formation, Jean fell into step beside you, close as usual. You didn’t mind. He was easy to talk to, and you didn’t have to brace yourself around him.

“So,” Jean started casually, “we’ve got liberty tonight.”

You glanced at him with a half smile. "Yeah?"

“Thought maybe I could take you out again. For another drink, play some cards, take a walk...whatever you like.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

Then there came that feeling. Like something pressing into your back, and creeping up your neck. You didn’t have to guess.

Levi was standing still, across the way. Watching, but not casually or passively. His burning gaze was fixed on you and Jean, smoldering.

And then he moved—straight toward you.

“Oh, great,” you muttered. “Don’t react,” you warned Jean, who was visibly confused. Levi was on top of the two of you before you could elaborate.

“Jean.” he shot, his tone flat and controlled. “I have you going out on a supply run.”

Jean straightened immediately. “Yes, sir.” His eyes met yours, saying a silent goodbye.

"Then go." Levi spat.

And just like that, Jean turned and was gone. Leaving you alone with him. You turned your attention to the ledger, pretending to read. But he was still there, standing far too close.

You glanced up—

What a mistake.

He was just looking at you, as if he didn't know what to make of you. You began to squirm under his gaze, heat rushed through you—sharp, and unwarranted, but not unwanted. At least not to your body.

What the fuck…

You began to internally panic, not knowing the right thing to say, the right thing to do. Why did he have this affect on you?

“It’s… cold out here,” you muttered.

“Then you should dress like it.” he lowered his gaze to your chest, where you noticed a button had fallen loose, and your chest was slightly exposed

His eyes moved slowly over you.

Your throat tightened.

Don’t react.

Don’t—

His gaze lifted and met yours, making your chest tighten in all the wrong ways. He stepped back, just like it never happened.

“Get your assignment and move.” He said, deadpan.

“Yes, sir.”

The armory smelled like oil, metal, and worn leather. You sat cross-legged on the bench, ODM gear spread in pieces in front of you. Your fingers worked methodically, tightening bolts—only for them to slip out of place again.

You sighed.

“I’ve always hated putting these things back together,” you muttered.

Across from you, Mikasa adjusted her gear.

“Mm.”

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then—

“…Levi cornered me earlier.”

“Mmm. Shocker.”

You frowned slightly. “He was… weird.”

That got her attention.

“Weird how?” She puzzled.

“He wasn’t griping. Not even really bitching.” You hesitated. “Just… looking at me...like in my eyes, and lingering around.”

Click.

“…He obviously likes you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“He watches you. Like all the time.”

“That’s because he thinks I’m a liability.”

“He doesn’t watch liabilities like that.” A pause. “He lets them die of their own stupidity.”

You opened your mouth then closed it.

“…Well,” you muttered, wiping your blade harder than necessary, “even if he did—hypothetically—that doesn’t mean anything.”

Mikasa tilted her head.

“…You like him too.”

You froze.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t—he’s just—” you gestured vaguely, “objectively attractive. And stoic. And strong—”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow.

“…and brave,” you finished weaker.

Silence ensued.

“And those are all qualities you’re attracted to.”

You groaned. “Oh my God.”

“But Jean is different,” you said quickly.

Mikasa waited.

“He’s… soft. Kind. He actually talks to me like I’m a person.”

Mikasa nodded once.

“That’s nice.”

A pause.

“But that’s not what you want.”

You stared at her blankly before going back to your work, but internally you cursed yourself, because you feared she could be right.

You were alone while getting ready in the barracks that night. Most people had someone to go home to—family, partners. Those who didn’t, like Mikasa, Eren, and Armin, had already gone ahead to the tavern.

You hesitated.

You wanted to be excited. Jean was using one of his few liberty nights to spend it with you—even though he had family he could’ve seen.

But Levi kept creeping into your thoughts...those stormy gray eyes...

You tossed your shirt onto the bed, arms crossing tightly.

“I’m not going,” you muttered.

It wasn’t fair.

One look from him—and suddenly everything you’d been building with Jean felt… shaky. It wasn’t fair to Jean either. You didn’t want to let him down.

But the heart wants what it wants.

He’d understand that.

“…Like hell,” you muttered, grabbing your blouse again. You undid the top two buttons, adjusted it slightly, and headed for the door.

The tavern was loud.

Laughter spilled over itself, glasses clinked, chairs scraped—heat and noise wrapped themselves around you like a blanket, dulling everything else.

And for once—

you let yourself relax.

Jean sat beside you, shoulder brushing yours as he laughed with Connie and Armin. His sleeves were rolled, hair slightly messier than usual, drink loose in his hand.

He looked… good.

After a while, he led you to a quieter corner. A small round table sat tucked near the wall. Instead of sitting across from you, he pulled out the chair beside his—and you took it. Now you were angled toward each other, knees interlocked underneath the table. Close enough to feel his warmth.

It made it harder to think.

You held your cards low in your lap. Jean mirrored you, leaning back, one arm draped over his chair, the other holding his cards near his thigh.

“Trying to peek?” he murmured.

You scoffed, tilting your cards closer. “Please. Your hand can't be that interesting.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glancing sideways.

Heat crept up your neck—but you only shifted slightly, making your knee rub the inside of his thigh as if it were unintentional.

“Funny,” he replied, leaning in just a little closer, voice lower, “I was thinking the same thing.”

You shuffled your cards.

“You’re losing.”

“I’m winning.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And I’ve been right.”

You reached across him to steal a card—his hand caught your wrist mid-motion.

You froze, then looked up. He was already watching you.

“…You always cheat?” he asked.

“Only when I’m losing.”

“That’s most of the time.”

“Wow,” you breathed, mock offended. “You’re bold tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve had enough to drink that I just don't care."

Your pulse picked up. You pulled your hand back slowly, but his fingers lingered a second too long before letting go.

The noise around you faded.

“…Hey,” he said softly.

You turned toward him.

“Yeah?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then lifted again.

“You know I—” He stopped, exhaling. “I’ve been meaning to—”

“You don’t have to say it,” you murmured.

He studied you.

“Yeah?”

You nodded. That was all it took.

He leaned in—slow enough to stop him if you wanted. You didn’t. His lips met yours, soft at first—testing. Then you kissed him back. Your head spun as you sank into it.

Maybe it was the alcohol—

but he was a good kisser.

The kiss broke slightly as you both shifted, turning heads to kiss one another more deeply—And your heart jumped into your throat.

Because over Jean’s shoulder...you saw him.

Levi.

He was watching, unmoving. His gaze locked on yours. Not angry--no something worse.

Searing.

Why the hell is he even here…?

He should’ve been with the officers—not here with enlisted soldiers. He lifted his drink slowly, eyes never leaving you, then set it down harder than necessary. His jaw tightened.

He almost looked amused. Like he wanted to laugh.

Your stomach twisted.

Jean pulled back, noticing the shift.

“Something wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “I just… maybe we should go outside. I’d rather be alone with you.”

Jean lit up instantly.

“Yeah—of course.”

He stood, taking your hand, leaving the cards behind. You walked wide around the tables—avoiding Levi entirely. Jean didn’t notice anything wrong, eager to lead you outside.

But you couldn't shake Levi's stare as you let Jean lead you out the door. His gaze was set on your back the whole way out.

As Jean walked you back to the barracks that night you felt defeated. He left you at the steps, giving you a small smile before turning and disappearing into the night. You stepped inside letting out a frustrated breath, then—

“FUCK!” you hissed, dragging a hand down your face.

You stood leaning against the door still, unwillingly remembering what had just taken place: The night air. The tree at your back. Jean’s mouth on yours—warm, and insistent—his hands had been needy, touching all over your body. The way you’d melted into it, let yourself get pulled under.

And still—

You hadn’t been there. Perhaps physically, yes, but in your mind...

Levi had lived inside of your thoughts. You imagined that Jean was him.

His voice. His presence. The way he groped you.

Levi's gaze had followed you both outside, clinging to you, threading through every touch until you couldn’t tell who you were feeling anymore.

You remembered pulling away, your breath uneven, and your thoughts all tangled up. And the look on Jean’s face when you told him you couldn’t do it. That you didn’t trust what you were feeling. That it wasn’t fair to him.

He’d taken it better than he should have.

That almost made it worse for you.

"Ugh! WHAT the FUCK am I doing?!" You shouted, believing you were alone.

“Making it harder than it needs to be.”

Mikasa’s voice cut cleanly through the room. You jumped slightly, turning toward her. She was sitting on her bunk, book resting in her lap, eyes already on you like she’d been watching the whole time.

“When did you get here? Care to announce yourself, I mean GOD?” you groaned.

“I've been here a while,” she said, turning a page in her novel. "Technically, you're the intruder here."

Of course she had.

You dropped onto your bunk with a frustrated exhale, staring at the ceiling.

“Well...I messed that up. Like...bad.”

Mikasa turned a page.

“Mhm.”

Silence.

Then—

“…So,” she added casually, not even looking at you, “you stopped because of Levi.”

You turned your head sharply. “I did not—”

She finally glanced up, completely unimpressed.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were thinking about him while kissing Jean, weren't you?”

Your mouth opened—

Closed.

“…I hate you. Stay out of my head.”

“Mm...Right. I'll do that.”

A beat passed between you.

Then, with the faintest hint of dry humor:

“I told you so...”

You groaned, dragging your blanket over your face.

“Oh my GOD do you ever shut up?.”

Mikasa laughed, her eyes lingering on you.

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing about you." She snarked playfully. "In all seriousness, just take some time for yourself. You're obviously all tied up."

"Right." you shot back.

But she was right. You needed space. No Jean, no Levi, just room to breathe.

The next week—after you started taking a little space from Jean—was made worse by the fact that Levi had somehow grown even more impossible. He assigned Jean every unwanted job. And wherever Jean ended up, you were placed on the complete opposite side of the world.

You couldn’t even be upset about the distance—you needed it.

But you knew exactly why Levi was doing it--you were convinced:

It was because he wanted to punish you for being happy.

And yet—

Everywhere you were, he was near. Close enough to feel his presence, which made your heart race. Watching him train, his muscles rippling, leaning over maps and plans with Erwin, those sexy arms with his sleeves rolled up... But he was never close enough to acknowledge you.

It drove you insane.

Did I just ruin something good with Jean for a man who won’t even acknowledge my existence?

You refused to say it out loud—to admit it—even to yourself. But it was impossible to ignore the attraction to him. To stop the thoughts of you, paired with him. To imagine him fucking you in the captain's quarters with his tongue deep in your mouth, catching every single moan.

Ugh...What's wrong with me?!

Besides… how were you even supposed to know if he was interested when he acted like he couldn’t stand you?

The tension between you grew thicker by the day. He became more critical. More overbearing. He’d approach without warning, pointing out flaws that didn’t exist—adjusting your gear like you were a cadet fresh out of training. His fingers were quick and efficient… lingering just long enough to make you tingle, dragging over the skin above your neckline as he walked around you, tightening straps, his breath brushing softly over your shoulder...

Followed by some sharp, unnecessary correction. You always considered yourself a reasonable person, but by the time the squad's weekly sparring session had arrived, you were ready to snap.

You were paired with Sasha.

One by one, you had put down every opponent before her, but Sasha made you work for it. The two of you tangled, struggled—limbs locking, slipping, and striking—until finally, with a desperate burst of effort, you slammed her into the dirt.

Silence.

You stood over her, chest heaving, sweat dripping, and blood running from your busted nose, dripping down onto her uniform. Your hands braced against your knees. You’d been out there since early afternoon. Now the sun was beginning to set. You were exhausted. You offered her a hand, which she took, and you pulled her to her feet.

“Again.”

Levi’s voice cut through the field. A collective groan rippled through the group.

“Or you can all run,” he added flatly. The groan died instantly, and everyone began to fall back into formation, ready to pair with a new partner.

Heat prickled across your scalp, but not from exertion.

From sheer anger.

Fuck that.

“Then I guess that’s what we’re doing,” you shot back, straightening despite the way your body screamed in protest. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. “Because I’m not sparring again. Enough is enough.”

Silence pierced through the air like an arrow. Levi stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly, his head tilted slightly, as if he couldn't believe it.

“Excuse you?” His voice was low and deadly.

You stepped forward, unrelenting.

“Excuse yourself. But before you do, how many miles do you want from me, Captain?” You gestured sharply toward the field. "We’ve been out here for hours—with no rest, and no food. I am beyond done with this shit.”

Connie choked on his water.

Armin shifted uncomfortably.

Reiner muttered something under his breath.

No one else moved. Levi’s eyes narrowed.

Then he moved. Fast—closing the distance. One second, he was across the field, and the next, he was right in front of you. Close enough that his breath stirred the loose strands of hair clinging to your face. You straightened instinctively, chest puffing—unwilling to back down.

Even as your pulse spiked.

He smelled clean.

Like tea and expensive soap.

It was distracting.

“I don’t care who you take down,” he said quietly. “If you don’t know the technique, then you’re dead weight to me.”

You scoffed.

“You're so right. I’m sure the titans are going to be real impressed by my vertical suplex.”

Your voice was sharp, your glare unwavering. You were dangerously close to putting him on his back just to prove a point. Your palms sweated as you prepared to make your move. Your heel shifted upward. A hand landed on your shoulder just as you were about to lunge, holding you firmly.

Jean stepped in.

“That’s enough, y/n. Captain, please. She's just dysregulated...tired.”

His other hand settled around your upper arm, grounding, steady. Ensuring he could pull you back if need be. You didn’t move.

Levi’s gaze flicked to him.

Then back to you.

A quiet, humorless scoff left him.

“Tch.”

His eyes dragged over you—slow, deliberate.

Judging you.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Running to her rescue.”

Jean’s jaw tightened, and he lowered his gaze.

Levi leaned in just slightly—Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you felt it in your chest.

“He can't save you from me,” he said under his breath.

Your stomach dropped. Your blood was boiling hot again.

“Look at you,” he added, straightening. “Covered in sweat, acting like you’ve done something impressive.” His lip curled faintly.

“You’re filthy.”

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up.

Heat.

Sharp and sudden, it traveled directly to your core. It was an electric feeling.

You hated it. But your body loved it.

Really? He calls you filthy, and it does this to you?

You clenched your jaw at him, trying to hide the arousal in your eyes.

“Get cleaned up,” he said, voice dropping just for you. “Then come to my office.”

A moment passed. You wanted to hit him.

Kiss him.

Fuck his stupid brains out.

“I’ll deal with you there.”

He turned away like it was nothing.

“The rest of you are dismissed. Bunk inspection. 0500,” he yelled.

The formation broke quickly, murmurs spreading like wildfire.

You caught pieces—

“…she really said that to him…” “…we’re all screwed…” “…he’s gonna kill her…”

Eren stepped into your space almost immediately. “What were you thinking?” he snapped. “You can’t talk to him like that! You really think that's gonna fly?”

You shot him a look.

“That’s rich. Coming from you.”

He opened his mouth— then closed it, giving you an annoyed look before turning towards the barracks. You didn’t care. You were coming undone.

You were tired of the constant pressure. And with how infuriatingly he affected you. You hated how much you wanted him—and he hated you. That much was obvious. So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Why did every glance feel like something more? Why did you want him to fuck you through the wall?

You cut the thought off.

Hard.

No, no, no.

You weren’t doing that. Not here. Tensions were too high, you needed a cold shower to gather your composure and thoughts.

You’d cleaned up as best you could. The cold shower hadn't helped cool your irritated skin—or your troubled mind. The busted nose was still giving you issues, so you kept a handkerchief tucked in your pocket just in case it gushed again. Your mind raced about what to say to Levi.

He’s going to rip me apart for this.

The walk to his office felt longer than it should have. Your half-laced boots echoed against the stone, each step a reminder of just how sore you were. Your muscles were aching, shin splints throbbing, and your body was worn down to the bone.

Good.

You thought.

Let him see exactly what he’s done.

The halls were quiet at this hour; most had already turned in. Lantern light flickered along the walls, shadows stretching ahead of you.

You tried—once—to gather your thoughts. An apology or an explanation, but nothing stuck. Every time your mind circled back, it landed on the same thing—

his voice his proximity the way he looked at you

And the anger came rushing back.

Good.

You’d rather feel that than the other feelings that kept coming to the surface.

You stopped in front of his door.

For a second, you hesitated, your hand hovered.

knock. knock.

You straightened slightly, jaw crunched into a firm line, already bracing yourself for impact.

Levi

The knock came right on time.

Of course it did.

He hadn’t been looking at the clock—but he didn’t need to. Levi sat behind his desk, one hand resting loosely against the surface, the other wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.

He hadn't noticed or cared. His eyes flicked once toward the door, then back down.

"Tch..."

He should’ve handled it out there. Shut you down in front of everyone, and ended it. But no, you just had to push. He’d let it go too far. It needed to be addressed one-on-one.

An image flashed uninvited—

You, earlier. sweat-soaked, and breathing hard, defiant looking up at him like that…

He cut the thought off immediately.

Irrelevant.

He set the cup down with a quiet click, shaking his head. He walked around the desk, propping himself up on the corner, and grabbed a sheet of paper, pretending to be observing the writing scrawled there.

“Enter.”

He kept his voice flat and controlled, not allowing any emotion underneath it. The door creaked open and you slipped in.,

For half a second, he didn’t look up, deliberately. He let you stand there, and let the silence set in steadily. He was in control here.

Not you.

Then, his gaze lifted and froze involuntarily. Because you didn’t look like you usually did. You weren't carefully composed, sharp, or even halfway prepared to defend yourself against him.

You looked—

tired.

But...disarming.

Your hair was still slightly damp and loosely combed, your shirt was thrown on without much care, and your collar was open more than enough to be noticeable. The fabric was thin and hung more softly on your frame than your uniform ever did; it looked loose and unstructured.

And underneath—

You wore nothing.

No support, and no effort to hide it. Just you.

Your posture was held together by will alone. You smelled clean. It was a faint, subtle scent—he recognized it now, a light hint of lavender. It wasn't too heavy; he could just hardly smell it as your presence filled the room, making him curious. He wished he hadn’t, because it immediately went to his groin. He wanted more of it.

He quickly composed himself.

"You’re late.”

You weren’t. But he didn’t care.

“No, I’m not.”

God he wanted to fix that mouth of yours.

“Shut the door” he demanded coolly.

You did as he said. He didn’t offer you anything. He just looked at you with a cold expression while assessing you.

“You’ve been getting careless,” he said, sitting on the edge of the desk, with his hands crossed.

Your brows pulled. “Careless?”

“You're defiant,” he corrected. “You think because you can hold your own, you get to ignore orders.”

“I didn’t ignore anything,” you shot back at him. “I defended myself, I pushed back for once because you are constantly on me, no matter how hard I try, or how well I do," you shot back, throwing your hands up at your sides.

He couldn't miss the way your breasts moved under that loose-fitted, thin shirt...He sharpened his resolve.

“You don’t push back.” He said plainly, leaning off of the edge of the desk and stepping a bit closer. “You follow orders. That’s it.”

Your jaw tensed until you felt like your teeth would crack. “Not when they don’t make a lick of sense.”

Tch.

“There it is.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you even stopped to consider that titans are not our only enemies?”

That hit you; he could see it in the way that your eyebrows knitted together. There was hesitation as you swallowed hard.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, steadier than you felt. “Not if I’m too beat down to train properly.”

Excuses, excuses.

He knew how strong you were--he needed you to be stronger. On his level. He needed you to be able to protect yourself when he couldn't be there.

And he knew for a fact 'Jean boy' couldn't keep you safe.

“Or maybe,” he said, quieter now, “you've just been too distracted lately.”

Your eyes sharpened. “By what?" You laughed at him. "If there's something you want to say, don't be coy. Just spit it out, Captain."

He didn’t answer right away, because he didn't know how to go about it. He didn't know how to pry without seeming as if he cared too much.

“You and Kirstein putting on your little show in front of everyone.”

Your expression shifted, just barely.

“You made a spectacle,” he continued. “Both of you did.”

“That’s not what that was—He was just trying to stop me from escalating the situation because you—"

“It looked like it,” he interrupted flatly. “And it’s enough to make the rest of the squad think they can fall out of line whenever they feel like it.” Silence hung in the air as he eyed you, studying your expression. You swallowed hard, and your breathing was faster.

“And whatever you think it is that you have with him… It’s going to cost you in the end. I've seen it many times. He can't keep you safe out there—he's just a distraction.”

Your eyes flashed with anger.

“You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“No,” you snapped, not even caring to explain that you had distanced yourself from Jean romantically. “I get it. You fucking hate me, Levi. You think me obnoxious and reckless, and now you're insinuating I'm a careless whore, so you know what? Just—kick me from the squad and get it over with.”

Silence fell between you.

He didn’t even know what to say.

You looked as if you would burst into tears; your watery eyes were swimming with defeat and shame.

His heart dropped at the sight of it.

He could admit he hadn’t been the warmest—hell, he never was with anyone—but he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone so wrong that you thought he felt all of that toward you…

When, in reality, he’d only ever wanted to be closer to you.

All the times he placed you near him on missions. The way he adjusted your gear without asking. He wouldn’t admit it—he had too much pride for that—but he hadn’t done any of it without reason. And he sure as hell didn’t want you walking around with the wrong idea about where you stood with him.

“Exactly." You quipped. "Nothing to say."

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you said, your voice choking; he could tell you were on the verge of tears. “Give you something to brag about—how you finally put me in my place, kicked me back to the cadets, or had me disbarred.”

You scoffed softly, already turning away.

“I’ll save you the trouble. I’m done.” You took a breath, hoping it would stifle the tears. “I’ll transfer. Find another section—or go to the MPs. I’ll talk to Erwin in the morning.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

“I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”

Your voice cracked anyway. You turned before he could see the pain in your expression, moving for the door.

He let you take one step.

Two...

Then his hand shot out, gripping your arm firmly. Stopping you cold in your tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice lowered. “Stop talking like that.”

You turned sharply, trying to pull free—but he didn't let you. Instead, he pulled you in closely. So close that your forearms rested on his chest, you were gazing up at him with those big, y/e/c eyes. They were swimming with tears, as if you were going to burst at the seams at any moment. Your breath hitched in your throat as you fought to hold back the raw emotion, the sadness, and the desire that were mixing and bubbling up all at once.

He had never wanted you more than right now—right in this moment.

He wanted to fuck you until you cried for completely different reasons.

His grip tightened just enough to hold you there against him; his voice was low and measured, but no longer clean. He was cracking, but he didn't even care anymore. Stubbornness be damned. And the opinions of the other people on his squad. And certainly Jean.

“He’s not the man for you—he can't protect you like..."

The words fell just short. His pride was still trying to stand in the way of his feelings for you.

Fuck, she's killing me...

His jaw tightened up, and he breathed heavily out of his nose, his grip still tight around your wrist. He brought up his other hand now, holding the opposite wrist gently. There was so much tension that he was afraid he would explode. Your eyebrows furrowed, as if you were thrown off, but you weren't pulling away. A sign that you wanted him to keep going.

“Like what?” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

His eyes locked onto yours; something in them had shifted now. They were calm and doleful, as if you were anticipating him. Hanging on his every word like a prayer.

He just had to say it.

To let go.

“He can't protect you like I will.”

The room went still. That was it. That was the line. Now there was no taking it back. Your lips parted— and that was enough of a sign for him. He closed what little distance was left between you, and kissed you.

Y/n

He kissed you.

What in the fuck...

Your mind raced. This couldn't actually be happening. His lips were soft. He smelled like Jasmine tea. Like clean linen. Just like you had imagined he would.

You were curious. How could you possibly help yourself? You moved your mouth against his, in rhythm with him. He brushed his tongue against your lips, begging to deepen the kiss.

Finally.

You were getting to taste him—to taste his tongue as it coiled with yours, exploring you deeper. He tasted so sweet, like honey. You were aching for more. His hands moved from your wrists to your waist, holding you there for a moment before turning you towards the desk. He lifted you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing, momentarily breaking the kiss while he sat you down on the desktop.

"He can't make you feel the way I will..."

"Yeah?" you sighed, lips crashing back into his as his hands felt up the hem of your shirt, reaching underneath and caressing firmly, making sure to stop over your soft nipples and pinch slightly--teasing you.

You exhaled sharply through your teeth, the intense sensation shot straight to your womanhood, wetness began quickly pooling there. He lifted the shirt over your head entirely, taking in your bare breasts. His tongue traveled down your neck, sending shivers all over your spine and goosebumps rising over your whole body. He smirked at how easily your body reacted to him.

He moved his mouth over one of your nipples while his hand moved to the other—massaging and toying lightly with his slender, expert fingers. At the same time, his lips worked softly, pulling you into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the soft bud, which was already tightening under his touch. Soft whimpers left your lips shamelessly. Levi's pants were stretching tightly around his waist as your moans brought him closer to his full length.

"He can't make you moan like this either..."

He continued the assault with his tongue, sliding his hand lower, tracing down your defined stomach all the way to your center, where you wanted him to caress most of all. His hand slid shamelessly into your loose-fitted pants; you hadn't bothered to completely button them. His fingers hooked into your panties, sliding them gently from out of his way.

He softly fingered your pussy, his digits sliding in and out slowly with ease. You couldn't help it now—you moaned loudly, helpless against his brutal assault as he quickened his pace, using his middle and ring fingers, curling them upwards inside of you, hooking into that most sensitive spot, drawing loud noises from deep inside of your throat.

"He definitely can't make you this wet...can he?” He paused slightly, his voice dropping low, dripping with malice, only for a split second—

“Has he…?”

You didn't answer—partially because you couldn't find a break in the pleasure long enough to breathe—your eyes were screwed shut, and your head thrown back, fighting not to get too turned on too quickly.

Too late…

You also didn’t answer partly because you didn't know what Jean was capable of. You hadn't had the chance to tell Levi that Jean had never done anything more than kiss or grope you.

"Answer me," he demanded, pushing his fingers deeper and circling them inside of you, bringing you back to reality—here with him, his fingers stuffed deep inside of your pussy, causing you to shudder.

You moaned helplessly.

"N--no.." you offered. “He never touched me…”

You were shocked at his forwardness, it was amusing to you. “Why, are you jealous?” You teased.

He pulled away from you slightly to look at your face—his eyes were dark.

“Jealous…” he repeated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do I need to be jealous…?”

His hand slipped away from between your thighs, slowly—only to bring his fingers up to your mouth.

You barely had time to breathe before he pressed them past your lips. You didn’t hesitate. Your tongue curled around them instinctively, tasting yourself, your eyes fluttering as you sucked them clean—soft, and needy. His gaze darkened at the sight. He exhaled quietly through his nose, something almost amused flickering beneath the surface of his gaze.

“…when I can do that to you?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer—his hand coming up to tilt your chin as he took your mouth again, slowly consuming you. Your arousal still lingered on your lips as he swirled his tongue, mixing with his own unique, sweet taste…It was dizzying and intoxicating. He suddenly pulled back, leaving you yearning, and looked at you.

His gaze dragged over your body slowly, deliberately, like he was saving the moment in his memory for later use. It made your stomach tighten. You watched him in return, your pulse hammering as he pushed his pants down his hips, never breaking eye contact. The outline beneath the fabric alone made your heart beat faster.

You weren’t inexperienced—but it had been years.

Then he finished stripping. Your eyes widened before you could stop them.

…Fuck.

He was bigger than you expected. A lot bigger.

Your breath shook, chest rising a little too fast as you stared. Of course he noticed, he seemed to notice everything about you.

Levi’s mouth tilted—just slightly into a small smile.

“Tch,” he muttered, acting unimpressed by your reaction on the surface… but his eyes gave him away, they were brimming with satisfaction and pride. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Scared of it?”

His voice dropped, quieter now as he closed the distance between you.

“…Relax.” He paused for a moment, nestling between your thighs as your knuckles gripped the desk, you shifted your weight, knocking a pen that rolled onto the floor as you made room for him between your thighs.

“I won’t break you.” He brushed your lip carefully, ever so gently—as if he wanted to comfort you.

His length brushed along the inside of your thighs as he kissed you one last time. When he pulled back, his gaze dipped, his hand wrapping around himself, giving a few slow strokes before guiding himself into place.

Then his eyes lifted to yours, locked in.

He dragged the tip along your slick folds—slowly teasing—up and down your heat, watching the way your breath caught sharply, the way your body reacted to every movement. He was testing you. He was enjoying how easily he could unravel you. He didn’t look away, not for a second.

“Levi…” you gasped, grabbing his strong arm, as he guided the tip past your entrance. “It’s been a long time…”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Believe me…I can tell” A long breath left him as your body clenched around him instinctively, his forehead dropped briefly against yours.

He brushed your bottom lip softly with his thumb.

“Breathe.” He whispered.

You took a deep breath inward...

Then—slowly—he pushed inside of your aching core.

You gasped, your hand flying up to grip his shoulder, fingers tightening as your head tipped back. A shudder ran through you at the almost unbearable stretch, your breath shifted hard, and your head lulled back as he filled that space inch by inch.

His lips found your neck, hot and sloppy—unlike the Levi you knew previously who was very precise and neat—a low groan rumbled against your skin as he pressed deeper inside of you until there was nowhere left to go.

The feeling hit all at once, so intense and raw.

“…fuck,” you whimpered, barely holding onto the word as you screwed your eyes shut.

“That’s excessive…” you laughed breathily, like his size personally offended you.

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand sliding firm around your lower back, dragging you flush against him again—holding you there, making sure you felt every inch of him, every second of it.

“Your body says otherwise… you’re not exactly pushing me away, are you?"

Heat rushed to your face—he was right. Your body betrayed you, your pussy was tightening around him without mercy. That sharp, pulsing ache settled deep as he touched your cervix.

You moaned deeply.

“I guess that means you like it?” he murmured, voice low and too calm for what he was doing to you.

“You have no idea…” you breathed.

He didn’t say anything further, dragging out slowly and pushing lazily back into your cunt, savoring every pulse and movement of your tight walls clenching around him.

He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his impossible size. Each motion was calculated, like he was testing how much you could take before you broke. You felt every shift, and every pull, your grip tightened on him as your body reacted without permission.

A soft sound slipped from your lips when he pulled back.

Another when he pressed forward again.

Then he found a rhythm.

Which was relentless.

The desk trembled beneath you with the force of it, his breathing growing heavier. His gaze locked onto yours, sharply, holding you there so you didn’t have the option to look away.

And when his hands shifted—spreading your legs wider, and pulling you closer, you thought you would fall completely back onto the desk.

He was most intentional, as if he had already decided exactly how this would go down. You chuckled as he fucked you senseless. His hand quickly shot up in response, gripping your chin.

“Something amusing here?” He grunted, his voice a deep warning. He wouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Already had this all figured out, didn’t you?” you murmured, eyes flicking up to his. “Been planning it? Exactly how and where you were going to fuck me?"

His next movement was swift as he hauled you across the room and dropped you onto the love seat tucked in the corner. You fell back, instinctively drawing your knees together, arms crossing over your chest—but that smirk was still there as you looked up at him. He towered over you, one hand braced on either side, caging you in; his presence was consuming and overwhelming in the best way.

“You’re exactly right,” he said quietly.

His voice was calm.

“And the next thing I had planned…” he continued, leaning in slightly, eyes dark, “is to make you cum right here.”

Your breath faltered.

"Uncover yourself.” he commanded in a low voice, planting a small kiss on your bent knee. “Don’t hide from me.”

He paused as his hands slid to your knees.

“Open your legs..." He said sharply, pushing them apart with unhurried pressure, "And don’t close them again until I’m finished.”

His gaze locked onto yours.

“Understood?”

There was no room to argue, so you simply swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good...Just like that."

He settled between your legs, weight pressing you back into the cushions, his presence heavy. He entered you again and immediately started fucking you wildly. You moaned—long and languid as he hit the right spot with every single thrust.

He slid one hand between you, finding your clit as he drove you into the cushions. Your legs hung helplessly at his hips as his fingers moved in slow circles. You could feel yourself getting close to a sensation no one had pulled from you in years. Something you had only ever given yourself for so long.

And now here you were.

Letting him force it out of you.

“Levi… I—I think I’m about to—” your words came out broken, your voice pitching higher with each violent thrust. You could barely keep up with the feeling building inside you as he kept that same relentless pace.

“Fuck…that’s it,” he breathed, voice rougher now, his control slipping away from him as your pussy clenched and pulsed around him. “Just like that… I can feel it.” he muttered under his breath. His grip tightened slightly, holding you there while he pounded mercilessly into you.

You reached the height of your release, as if he controlled your body— commanding it to do exactly as he willed it to. You quivered around him, nails digging into the small of his back as you rode out waves of pleasure. Each stroke started back up the orgasm all over again. The only thing you wanted him to do was fuck you as hard as he possibly could—

You must have said so out loud because his thrusts became intolerable, he rutted inside of you violently as he cussed and groaned under his breath.

Then the heat faded, leaving you with a raw, satisfied feeling. You zoned out as your high ebbed away—you floated away in your mind, eyes clamped shut tightly.

He said something you didn’t catch, until he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over onto your belly, jolting you back to reality again. He dragged your hips up towards his pelvis, bringing you to your knees, and pushing your head downward roughly into the cushion.

“Do what I say when I say it…” he warned. “We’re not finished just because you are.” He bit, gathering your hair into one hand before driving back inside of you.

You yelped.

Your aching core was so sensitive you didn’t know how much more you could possibly stand to take. You babbled and whimpered as he used you—taking every single thrust deeply. His name left your lips over and over, as if it were the only thing left that you could possibly remember how to say.

“That’s right…not Jean, not anyone else. Just me…Now keep saying it…”

His hips began to stutter, his breathing was turning uneven. He was losing that perfect control he always carried.

He was so close.

“Levi… It’s all yours…” your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as everything overwhelmed you at once. He gripped your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you up—firm but not rough this time—guiding you onto your palms, and pressing you firmly into that position. Your body trembled, and your back arched deeply, completely spent. Any rational thought left was slipping through your fingers. Emotion was taking over. And maybe that was why it came out so easily.

“I’ve thought about you every day… for months…” you panted.

You felt him shift closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“That right…?” he murmured low and dangerous, but quieter than before.

“Yes!” you cried, tears spilling freely now. “I’ve always felt this way about you… There’s no one else for me… It’s only you.”

Your words broke apart as you spoke them, emotion finally spilling over as your body followed right behind, once again letting go around him. The tears fell freely, soaking into the couch beneath you as he drove into you unforgiving, like he was trying to force something out of himself just as much as he was forcing it out of you.

“…Don’t say things like that unless you mean them,” he muttered, voice rougher than before, control slipping. “… I’m not letting you take it back.”

“I never want to take it back…I only want you…fuck—please!”

Your voice, spent and needy, sent him over the edge. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as he filled you completely with cum in hot bursts. He wrapped his arm around your chest, holding you to him as he came inside, planting soft kisses on your shoulders and panting softly into your neck.

He slowly eased out, watching his seed drip from your swollen pussy—something that belonged only to him now. Your legs were shaking, and your hair was falling along your back and shoulders.

You slumped onto your side, body still trembling, as he pulled away and stood. He moved quickly, scanning the room before grabbing something to clean you with.

“Uhh… this’ll have to do for now.” He handed you a small towelette. “Clean up. Then get dressed.”

You frowned immediately, your brows knitting together.

“Oh… alright then…” you trailed off, your heart sinking as you instinctively covered yourself, suddenly aware of how exposed you were.

Maybe that was all this had been.

A plan,

Then a moment.

And now, he would be done with you.

“Tch… don’t look so upset.” His voice cut directly through your thoughts. “You don’t plan on walking to my bedroom like that, do you?”

You blinked, the tension in your chest eased up just slightly.

“Oh… okay…” You let out a small breath, something like a quiet, relieved laugh slipping out. He clicked his tongue softly, like your reaction annoyed him more than anything else. "For a second I thought—"

"I’m not that kind of man,” he said flatly, cutting you off before you could finish. “Don’t start making assumptions.”

His gaze flicked over you briefly, taking in your naked body, as if he was satisfied with his hard work.

“I’m not going anywhere…so get used to it." He said, pulling on his clothes. "You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

You caught traces of a faint smile on his lips as he finished dressing, and though you knew he’d never admit it, you could tell he was smugly happy that he got his way.

How Infuriating.

The swing of the axe pulled through his shoulders, and his back was tightening under the thin fabric of his shirt, muscles shifting with each motion like something wild being restrained, and held back. Then he pulled it off altogether...grabbing it in that sexy way, over his shoulders, peeling it down his defined arms.

Fuck...

Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth, and she shifted uncomfortably.

He hadn’t touched her yet. Not once. Not like that. Only platonically, and it drove her fucking mad. Armin and Connie had left the day before, leaving them all alone, and the tension was palpable. At first, she thought she was upset with Levi for not allowing them to go along with Connie and Armin. But now she realized: she was upset because an expectation of hers had not been met.

The expectation that he was going to violently fuck her into the headboard until she saw God the moment they left.

But no such thing had happened. He wouldn't even touch her, and he was avoiding her like the plague.

Her gaze dropped—briefly, and shamelessly—to where his pants clung to his waist.

Six weeks…

Her fingers curled into Troup's blankets nervously. He wriggled like a cute little inchworm. She smiled down at him and laughed at his cooing, but she was internally worried.

Was he not interested? Her body did look much different than the taught, muscular, strong woman he remembered before. She had always been in shape. Now she had a little more chub to her tummy where before she didn’t even have a single roll when she bent over. And although she was still incredibly small-framed, she thought about how wide her hips were now, how her bottom had stretch marks, and so did her breasts, which were always full and leaking milk.

He must think I’m disgusting…

She struggled with the thought that maybe he just wasn't sexually attracted to her any longer.

Surely that couldn't be it.

So why wasn’t he falling all over her?

Her breath caught slightly in her throat as he lifted the axe again; the movement was sharper this time, a little less controlled.

Say something, she thought, almost frustrated.

Do something.

Instead, he just… kept going.

Like she wasn’t losing her mind.

Like she wasn’t standing right here, watching him, waiting for him to make his move.

Levi

Six weeks.

He knew exactly how long it had been.

Levi drove the axe down harder than necessary, wood splitting clean down the middle, and flying in opposite directions.

Focus.

That was all this was. Discipline.

He wasn’t going to rush her.

Not after everything, the least she deserved was space, peace, and healing--inside and out. After what she’d been through—what her body had endured, what she’d survived. The memory alone was enough to make something tight coil in his chest; his heart hurt when he remembered her recovery...it had been anything but easy. Not to mention the guilt he felt for breaking her ribs when he was performing chest compressions on her. He couldn't stand the fact that he had caused her harm, even if it was in an attempt to save her life.

So he kept his distance, gave her space, and waited for her to make her move. It was her territory, he would stay out of it until invited in.

That’s what she needed.

…Right?

His grip tightened around the handle as he caught movement from the corner of his eye. She was bouncing the baby on the porch.

She was watching him--again. All day she had lingered close by him, but never really approached. They would share a small, awkward glance, or she would ask him where something was. But other than that, she was keeping an arm's length between them. He couldn't understand the inner workings of this woman's mind.

What did she want?

Impossible woman...

He didn’t look up right away—but he felt it. The weight of her gaze, and the way that it lingered on him. It was very intentional.

His jaw moved slightly as he gritted his teeth together.

He swung again, entirely too hard, punishing the wood unintentionally. It cracked sharply, splintering at the edges.

Damn it.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

Because if he looked at her—really looked at her—he wasn’t entirely sure he’d keep this control he worked so hard to maintain the last few weeks. Not when she moved the way she did now, she was so enticing just with the way she maneuvered around the house—she wasn't even trying. She didn't need to. Her gorgeous body had softened in some places, and sharpened in others—

He swallowed hard, feeling his control start to slip again… and the growing tightness in his pants wasn’t helping matters.

He set the axe down.

Enough.

y/n

Y/n couldn’t stand to be near Levi any longer.

So when he finally set the axe down and disappeared into the trees, she felt a flicker of relief. However, it was fleeting and quickly replaced with yearning.

The truth was, she couldn’t stand being near him because of what she wanted.

She wanted to rip those loose-fitted pants clean off that gorgeous, vascular waist and drag him down into the grass—sweat, dirt, and all. She wanted him to fill her to the brim and slam-fuck her into oblivion—until her mind went blank, until the only thing she could remember how to do was say his name.

She breathed deeply, trying to focus on anything other than the rush of excitement going directly to her core.

“Get it together…you....you moron!” she muttered at herself under her breath.

After what felt like an eternity of pacing, rocking, and quiet pleading, she finally managed to get Troup to sleep. Carefully, and gently, she placed him into the bassinet stroller, pulling the cover over him to shield his face from the sunlight.

The quiet should’ve helped.

But it didn’t.

Her thoughts were still tangled, and restless—pulling her in way too many directions at once. So she moved towards the stream, hoping to find respite.

The dirt path wound through the trees, familiar beneath her feet as she pushed the stroller along, the sound of the stream was growing louder with each step. The steady rush of water usually calmed her, giving her something to focus on.

She needed that right now--badly. She needed to think. She needed to know why he didn't want her anymore.

She would sit by the brook and try to read more into McCarty’s research that Armin had left in her careful custody. Focus on something other than the way Levi looked, splitting wood like he was trying to flesh something out of his system.

“You’ve got to get it together,” she whispered again, quieter this time.

The trees began to thin; she could see gentle light spilling through their branches into the clearing ahead.

She stepped forward—

And froze.

Her breath caught, and she immediately ducked behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree, instinct kicking in before her mind could catch up. One hand steadied the stroller, the other pressed against the bark as she leaned just enough to stay hidden.

Shit.

Her eyes flicked down quickly.

Troup was still asleep—completely undisturbed, pacifier working lazily in his mouth like he was still nursing in his dreams.

Good.

Because what she’d just stumbled into was not something she was prepared for. She knew she should’ve looked away.

But she didn’t. She couldn't

Y/n stood just past the tree line, her fingers curled lightly around the bark, her breath shallow as she peeked through the gaps in the branches like a shy child.

Levi was in the water.

Naked.

The brook ran low this time of year—clear, slow-moving, catching the last of the evening light. It traced along his skin in thin streams, slipping down the lines of his shoulders, his back—

Her throat went dry.

He had stripped down, without any restraint.

He didn't know that she was standing here, completely frozen, trying—and miserably failing—to be decent.

She couldn’t ignore the unmistakable evidence of his arousal just beneath the surface. She wanted to leap in after him. She watched carefully. When he stepped deeper in, his head tipping back slightly as he ran a hand through his damp hair, she nearly fainted into the pine needles on the mossy forest floor.

A slow exhale left him.

God, that was so sexy...

Her stomach did flips.

From what? She thought, her grip tightening on the tree.

She was only literally his wife...she had seen him naked more times than she could even care to imagine, and he had been inside of the deepest parts of her, pulling orgasm after orgasm from her. There wasn't a place on her body his tongue hadn't explored. He had fucked her in every possible position under the sun.

So why was she so flustered by this now?

Her gaze dragged—agonizingly slow—over his body. Over the sharp lines of his back, the way his muscles flexed when he scooped water into his hands, throwing it over his face and neck, his perfect, thick thighs, and sculpted ass... There was still tension in his frame even now.

He wasn’t relaxed, not really. Not even close.

Oh, I could make him relax, alright...

She mentally punched herself in the gut. What was wrong with her today? Her pulse picked up, heat was rising in her fast and unforgiving, settling low in her stomach.

Six weeks...

And he was out here—completely unaware—or worse, completely aware—and just—

Bathing.

Like this was normal. Like she wasn’t about to lose her mind. Why couldn't he just read her mind? Why didn't he just know what she needed? Was he intent on making her say it?

Infuriating, impossible man.

Her lips parted slightly as he shifted, turning just enough that she had to snap her gaze away for half a second—

Only to look right back.

Because she couldn’t help it.

Because it was him. Captain Levi Ackerman. The same Levi Ackerman who would make her heart pound out of her ears every time she was around him. She had forgotten how it felt...to see him as Captain Ackerman and not her husband. Not someone she had cried and laughed with and grown so used to that she had lost her spark with him.

That's it...We lost our spark.

She wanted to facepalm herself.

But this was a good thing right? Because this feeling meant it was all coming back to her. But did he feel the same?

She gazed harder, her wetness pooling shamelessly between her thighs. Throbbing. Pulsing. God, she wanted him so badly...She couldn't stop herself from looking.

And then he looked back, toward the tree line.

Her breath hitched softly in her throat.

They didn't make eye contact, but she knew he was more instinctive than that. He rose back out of the water, his naked body fully visible to her. His gaze lingered nearby. Her heart raced. He could notice her any moment.

It was exhilarating.

Levi

The cold water should’ve helped.

It usually did. These last few weeks when he wanted her, and couldn't have her. The cold water disciplined him. Took his mind off of her sex. Off of the way she used to squirm under him and moan his name...so wispy and beautiful...of how she used to cum around him. Wet the sheets. That sheepish, embarrassed little look she would give him that only drove him to fuck her harder.

Stop.

Control yourself.

Levi dragged a hand through his hair again, exhaling slowly as the brook moved all around him, steady and cool against his skin that felt too hot—too tight.

The water wasn’t enough.

Not lately. Not with her this close all the time, but just out of his arm's reach. Just far enough away enough that he couldn't have her.

Not with the way that she looked at him—

He stilled. There was a shift in the air. It was subtle, but it made his skin prickle. Not something he’d ever miss.

His eyes flicked—just slightly—toward the tree line.

He didn’t turn fully. Didn’t call it out. But he knew--she was there.

Watching him.

He bit the inside of his bottom lip. He wanted to smile so badly, but that would give him away.

Of course, she was watching. She wanted him. Probably as badly as he needed her.

A part of him—controlled, and disciplined—told him to ignore her presence. To finish, get out, walk back like nothing had happened.

The other part—

Didn’t want to move at all.

Because if she was going to stand there and watch him like that—He wasn’t going to make it easy on her. He wanted to lure her out. He wanted her to come into the water with him so badly.

He shifted deeper into the water, slower this time, very deliberate.

Letting the moment stretch. Letting her get a good look.

His head tilted just slightly, like he was considering turning—

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

y/n

He knew.

Oh God—he knew.

The realization hit her all at once, sharp and humiliating and worse—

Thrilling.

He hadn’t turned, and hadn’t said anything.

But there was something in the way he moved—slower now, more deliberate—turning his body to face her, leaning his head back, showing a full frontal view, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination as water dripped down his perfect torso all the way to his...

Heat flooded her face.

He knows I’m watching. Oh my God.

And he wasn’t stopping her.

Her heart started pounding harder and faster.

Her fingers tightened against the tree.

This wasn’t fair.

He was doing this on purpose now.

And she didn't know how much more she could take.

A little dip wouldn't hurt...But no. She had too much pride to advance first.

Troup began to stir behind her, she quickly grabbed a hold of the stroller, and headed back towards the cabin, letting him watch her as she disappeared off into the trees.

y/n

Later, back at the cabin, there was a shift in the air. It was no longer subtle—the tension was thick.

The baby was asleep, the sun had set, and the house was quiet, wrapped in the low hum of night. Levi had opened all of the living room windows to let the cool summer breeze blow through—to y/n's relief. Crickets outside thrummed, and the steady sound of the stream moved softly beyond the open window.

The silence between them, the small talk and small replies—only amplified the undeniable charge.

The air was electric.

Y/n moved through the kitchen slowly, and hesitantly, like she was aware of every inch of space that existed between them.

She opened the cabinet and paused. Her brows pulled together slightly. Sitting there neatly, in the cupboard, a bottle of cherry wine.

She frowned, pulling it out—and something slipped from beneath it.

A folded note.

Her lips parted slightly as she opened it.

To break the ice… and ease the tension.

—A

She stared at it for a second. Then scoffed softly under her breath.

“Armin…” she muttered. "You meddling little shit…thank you!” She whispered

She didn’t just thank him for the wine, but because she came to a realization. Levi probably didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t want to break the ice that he wasn’t sure should be touched. It was likely nothing to do with her body, or anything other than his strong will and self-control.

Her fingers curled slightly around the paper before she set it aside, her eyes flicking toward Levi.

He was at the sink, sleeves pushed up, hands wet as he rinsed off the potatoes.

Completely unaware.

Or pretending to be, who knew.

Her lips pressed together, something shifting in her expression—something more decisive now.

Fine.

She grabbed two glasses.

“Look what I found.”

He turned, giving her a smirk.

“Care to join me?” She ployed.

“How can I say no?” He gave her a small smile, drying his hands.

She poured the wine. Heavily. His eyes widened.

“Trying to get wasted?” He teased.

“Not wasted…”

Trying to get laid is more like it…

He smiled and toasted her glass. They both took a deep sip, meeting eyes for a brief moment. He quickly broke contact, clearing his throat.

“Very sweet..” he said softly, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass.

“Mmm…”

Y/n couldn’t let herself feel discouraged now. She had to press harder…to force his hand.

Levi

He knew something had changed.

Levi dried his hands slowly, gaze flicking toward her without turning his head fully.

She was quieter, much more focused. There was intention in the way she moved now—less hesitation. That alone was enough to spark a feeling in his chest—anticipation?

He exhaled through his nose, setting the towel aside.

Don’t read into it.

Don’t assume.

He finished his glass of wine and began peeling the potatoes carefully.

She walked by him, brushing him softly as she passed.

Reached around him to grab a spoon, grazing his arm with her soft hand.

God, she’s trying to kill me.

He turned—

And stopped.

She was closer than he expected.

Much closer.

She stared up at him, she was silent, but her eyes were begging him.

Pleading.

They were screaming:

Please touch me

Y/n

He turned too fast.

And suddenly—

There was no space left.

Her breath stopped for a moment.

She hadn’t meant to get that close—hadn’t expected him to turn towards her.

But now she was here.

And so was he.

Face to face.

Her heart started pounding hard against her ribs, her eyes lifting to meet his. She begged him silently. She wanted him to notice.

To notice how badly she needed him.

God—

He looked like he was holding himself together by a thread.

That tight jaw.

Those eyes—

So dark and focused. Locked on her like he didn’t know where to look without losing it completely.

Her lips parted slightly.

She didn’t step back. She didn’t say anything—her pride would never allow it. She needed him to be the one to initiate.

She just looked at him.

Waiting.

Levi

That was it.

That look.

He felt it all at once—sharp and sudden, his heart was fluttering.

She wasn’t pulling away. She was right in front of him, facing him off.

She was looking at him like—

Like she wanted him to do something about that.

His restraint snapped.

His hand came up fast, gripping her jaw—not rough, but firm enough to anchor her in her place. Her gasp hit him where he was already straining.

“Say something,” he muttered low.

Her breath got caught in her throat. She looked as if she couldn’t find the words.

But she didn’t need to say anything.

He would talk her through it.

Enough waiting.

Whatever composure he had left snapped clean in two.

“Yeah,” he muttered low, almost to himself, his eyes dragging over her face like he was committing every one of her reactions to memory. “That’s what I thought.”

Her breath came faster now—uneven, and shallow—her hands were gripping his shirt like she didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.

So he decided for her.

His hand dropped from her jaw to her waist, gripping tight as he pulled her flush against him—no space left between them.

No going back…

Her head tipped back slightly at the force of it.

“Still think you’re in control of this?” he murmured, voice low and dangerous against her lips. “We’ve been doing this dance all day long…”

Her fingers tightened in his shirt.

“…You tell me,” she shot back, breathless but still pushing—still fighting him.

“Careful,” he warned, quieter now—but sharper. “You don’t get to challenge me and then act surprised when I answer.”

Her pulse jumped.

Good.

Her hands slid up, fisting in his hair this time, dragging him down to her, his lips crashed into hers.

Not soft, it a was fast and hot. That did something to him—something dangerous. He pulled away and turned her around. A low breath left him—half exhale, half warning—as his other hand came up, pinning her wrist against the counter above her head in one swift movement.

Not enough to hurt her, but just enough to remind her

He was stronger.

She exhaled heavily.

But even then her lips curved slightly, defiantly, he knew she liked it.

Of course she did.

“Still want to test me?” he muttered against her mouth.

Her chest rose sharply.

“You'll find out…don’t stop now.”

That was all he needed.

She was breathing harder now, and so was he. The air between them felt like it might snap.

And then—

He moved. Fast. His grip shifted from her wrist to both her hips, lifting her clean off of her feet like she weighed nothing. Her breath broke into a sharp gasp as her hands instinctively grabbed onto him, legs wrapping around his waist without hesitation.

“Levi—”

“Too late,” he cut her off, voice low, edged, and final. There was no going back now. He didn’t give her time to think, to argue, or push back this time. He turned, carrying her down the short hall with controlled urgency; his grip was unyielding.

The door to the guest room hit the wall harder than intended when he pushed it open.

Neither of them cared, not now. Not when she was pulling at him again—hands all in his shirt, dragging him down the second his feet crossed the threshold.

He let her. For half a second. Then he took that control right back.

His hand came up, catching her jaw again, pulling her into another kiss—deeper this time, his tongue invaded her mouth, he claimed her lips slowly, but no less demanding. He was making a point now. He was done pretending he didn’t want this.

Her back hit the mattress, the moment was anything but gentle. He looked feral— he knew it. He felt feral, and unrestrained. He could tell by that look in her eyes that he seemed unpredictable to her.

He hovered over her for just a second—just long enough for her to breathe and process their encounter. His eyes dragged over her slowly and deliberately. He was taking in every inch of her like he’d been denying himself the right to look for weeks. His hand slid down her side, stopping at her hip, gripping it firmly, in a reassuring way.

“You sure about this?” he asked low—not hesitant, and not unsure, but he had to know that she was okay. He needed to hear her say it. He had to offer her the out he’d been holding onto this whole time.

Her chest rose sharply beneath him, eyes locked on his.

“Levi…”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, voice low. “Say it.”

Her breath shuddered unevenly, her fingers curling into his shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

“Please Levi—it’s all I’ve wanted all day…I can’t—” she let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head slightly. “I’m going crazy over you. Please… just—don’t stop.”

Y/n

Y/n saw something shift in his gaze slightly just before he claimed her mouth once more. Everything he was holding back began to pour out-- all the emotion, all of the frustrations, and all of the love he wanted to give to her for so long.

And she couldn’t be more thrilled.

He ran his hands down her body while he swirled his tongue against hers, their lips meeting and parting again, exchanging hot gasps as his fingertips found the edge of her shirt. He broke the kiss long enough to pull it over her head, and immediately overwhelmed her once again.

His groans were going directly to her heat, she shifted underneath him. Her breasts were spilling out of her brassiere. He took a handful and massaged gently. A wet spot appeared through the fabric as he pressed gently. Something about that really seemed to entice him. She felt his cock twitch against her thigh.

“Damn it…thats—” he trailed off.

Y/n never broke eye contact as she sat up slightly, reaching behind herself and unclasping her bra. She allowed it to fall, her breasts bounced lightly at their release, her long hair brushed against them, her nipples peeked through, hardening. A small trace of milk still lingered on her breast, dripping down.

“You like that, don’t you?” She teased her eyes traveling him.

“…You think I don’t?”

“Only one way to find out…” she teased, tossing her hair back, looking up at him through her lashes.

His hand came up slowly, and deliberately like he wanted her to feel every second of it. His fingers brushed over her first—lightly testing before pinching gently, just enough to make her squirm slightly.

The whimper that slipped from her affected him immediately.

She could tell that he needed more. She did too.

“Seems like you like it more than me…” he murmured low, thumb brushing once more—slower this time, and more intentional. Her back arched slightly into his touch, betraying her before she could say anything. A quiet, knowing breath left him.

“Tch…”

His other hand came up, steadying her by the waist, keeping her right where he wanted her. His mouth found her breast, slow and deliberate, like he was relishing his earned prize after weeks of being restrained. His tongue circled her nipple, teasing at first—testing—before his lips closed around it, warm and firm as he drew her in.

His hand steadied her, fingers splayed against her side as he repeated the motion—slow flicks of his tongue, a gentle pull of his mouth that sent a sharp, electric shiver straight through her. Her head spun.

It felt almost forbidden.

For weeks, her body had served a different purpose—something softer, and more necessary. This part of her had been reduced to one purpose: to feed and to nurture.

But right now, it was his.

The shift hit her all at once, heat gathering deep inside of her, fingers tightening in his hair as a soft, broken sound slipped from her lips.

Levi exhaled against her skin, a low, rough sound that betrayed his collected demeanor, that showed just how much this was affecting him, too.

“…fuck…”

He didn’t linger long before shifting, his mouth trailing across her skin to her other breast, his touch no less deliberate, or no less consuming.

“So damn beautiful…” he murmured, voice low against her skin. “Absolutely perfect...”

He repeated the motion—slower this time, more intentional—like he knew exactly what it was doing to her and had no intention of stopping.

It drove her insane.

Her back arched. Her breath was uneven now, her body was reacting before she could even think. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed him. Now.

“Levi…fuck me. Right now.”

He didn’t hesitate for one second. He only obeyed. In an instant, he shed his clothes. He made quick work of her shorts and panties. He paused only for a moment to admire her dripping wet heat before climbing over her and lining up his cock with her entrance. One hand traveled to the back of her neck, and he gripped there firmly, making sure it was entangled in the hair at the base of her neck where he held her, forcing her gaze onto him.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t raise his voice—but it wasn’t a suggestion.

She complied instantly, her eyes locking onto his.

She could feel him—his length brushing slow and deliberate against her pussy, the last bit of space between them all but gone now. His grip on her firmed.

“Don’t look away. Not once.”

She nodded in agreement.

He pushed into her slowly, deliberately. Never breaking eye contact. Her lips parted immediately into a perfect “O”, a soft gasp slipping out as he pressed deeper, inch by inch. If he hadn’t been holding her by the hair, her head would’ve fallen back completely, helpless against this feeling.

The sensation of him filling her was overwhelming—the stretch was bordering on unbearable, she felt like he was taking her virginity. Even with her dripping onto the blankets beneath them—even with him like this, slow and controlled, he had to work his way in slowly.

He didn’t rush it. And he didn’t look away.

Not for a second. Neither did y/n—she didn’t dare. When he finally settled fully inside her, their bodies flush against each other, he stilled—just long enough to feel it.

Her eyes fluttered shut. His hand came up instantly, gripping her chin—not rough, but firm.

“Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not repeating it.”

Her eyes opened again, and locked on his.

“Is that good?” he asked, voice lower.

She knew exactly what he meant. She took a breath, steadying herself, feeling everything carefully. No sharp pain. Nothing unordinary, or concerning.

Just him occupying her completely.

“Yes…” she breathed. “Go slow… please.”

He nodded once. Then moved.

He dragged himself back carefully before pressing inside again measured and controlled—like he was forcing himself to hold that agonizing pace.

She panted and moaned against his lips, they stared deeply into each other.

It felt too good.

A quiet whimper slipped from her lips, her hands tightening against him as he continued—slow, steady, and meaningful, like he wanted her to feel every agonizing drag.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for her.

His jaw was clenched very hard, breath growing heavier as he fought to keep this slow pace for her, his grip was still firm in her hair as he eased them both down into the mattress. Every instinct in him was screaming to lose it. To take more.

To fuck her harder.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, his poise was visibly cracking.

“Levi…” her voice trembled. “Fuck me faster…”

There it was…like earning access into heaven.

His head dipped for a second, a sharp exhale leaving him like he’d been holding it in for weeks. Then he moved. The pace shifted instantly—faster—his control snapping into something more raw, and unrestrained. Her soft sounds only pushed him further, feeding into it, and driving him forward. He shifted onto his knees, lifting her legs, and adjusting her beneath him with precision—even now, even like this, he was thinking ahead.

He slid a pillow beneath her hips.

Oh shit.

He drove into her again—harder this time—setting a pace that made the bed creak beneath them, the rhythm sharp and relentless. The room filled with the sound of them—the panting, the movement, the loud, broken sounds she couldn’t hold back. Six weeks of restraint—gone in moments. Her legs trembled against him, her body reacting faster than her mind could keep up.

Still—

She wanted more.

“Harder…” she gasped.

His grip tightened. He obeyed.

His movements were sharper now, rougher, his control unraveling piece by piece as he lost himself in it. One hand dropped, his thumb finding her clit, circling it with slick, ruthless precision as he drove into her.

Her voice began to crack, letting out strangled moans. She arched off the bed slightly, her voice louder now, and uncontrolled—it was no longer something she could contain.

Her head tipped back.

And instantly—His hand caught her chin again.

“I already told you,” he said, low, breath uneven, eyes dark and locked on hers, “don’t look away.”

She forced her eyes back to his

He looked completely undone. Utterly fucked out.

I wonder if I look the same to him.

Levi

Levi had never seen her look more beautiful or sexy than he did at that very moment. Her eyes fought to stay on his—just like he told her—but her body kept betraying her, her gaze kept slipping, rolling back every time he drove deep enough to pull a broken sound from her throat.

Her eyes slipped again—just for a second—and that was all it took.

His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to force her gaze onto his again, no room left for her to drift.

“Tch.”

The sound was low and irritated.

“Still not listening.”

There was no teasing left in his voice now.

His grip on her sharpened, his movements turning harsher—not reckless or sloppy but completely intentional. He wanted it to mean something. He wanted to fuck her just how she liked.

Punishment.

That's what she got off on.

What kept her in line.

“You really don’t learn, do you?” he muttered, voice rough, eyes locked on hers like he was daring her to look away.

His hand slid from her chin; he gripped her breast tightly, giving her no chance to be obedient. Her eyes screwed shut. She cried out.

“No,” he corrected under his breath, almost to himself. “We’re not doing that.”

He pulled out completely, rising to his feet.

The sudden loss of him made her body jolt, a broken breath leaving her as her hips instinctively chased after him.

“Levi…” she whined, voice trembling. “I was about to cum…”

He just shook his head, jaw tight, dropping down to his knees. His hands caught her hips, dragging her to the edge of the bed with little effort.

“Tch.”

His gaze flicked up to hers, dark and thoroughly unimpressed.

“Can’t even follow a simple order,” he muttered. “And you expect to finish?”

His eyes dropped.

She was already shaking—body tense, reacting, and needing him—and he noticed. A quiet exhale left him, something darker settling in his expression.

“Look at you…” he murmured under his breath.

He leaned in. Slow at first—almost like he was taking his time—before his tongue teased at her opening. He continued upwards, watching her as he licked a stripe up her labia where his lips rested on her mound, circling and swirling.

His fingers followed, sliding in with practiced ease, setting a pace that was controlled—but unforgiving.

Not rushed, and certainly not gentle.

Her punishment...

Her hands gripped the sheets.

“Levi—please—” she gasped, voice breaking. “I need to—”

“Yeah?” he cut in low, not stopping. “That what you want?”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand never letting up, his thumb replacing his tongue on her clit.

“Would’ve been easier if you listened the first time.”

Her body jerked under his touch, her breath catching harder now.

“Please…” she begged again, softer this time, more desperate. “I want to cum…”

He applied more pressure with his thumb, working at a brutal pace.

“Tch… I can tell,” he muttered.

His pace didn’t ease—if anything, it sharpened, pushing her right to the edge and holding her there.

Right where I want her to be…

“You’re close,” he said, voice low, almost clinical. “And still can’t do what you’re told.”

Her voice broke completely.

“I will—I will, I promise—just—please—”

That did something to him. That soft, sweet begging he couldn’t resist.

“Think you can manage that?” he asked, finally looking at her again. A beat passed, and she was squirming uncontrollably. “Do exactly what I say?”

“Yes—yes, I swear—” she rushed out, nearly frantic now.