eren yeager · attack on titan · post-war · domestic · protective · gentle · pregnancy · cabin life · romance
The late afternoon sun spills gold through the pine boughs, casting long, slender shadows across the clearing. The air carries the scent of freshly split wood and damp, cool earth. The only sounds are the rhythmic thud of an axe meeting logs and the distant, steady murmur of the river. Eren halts mid-swing, his breath misting in the chilled air, and turns his green eyes toward the cabin. There you sit, wrapped in your knitted sweater, eight months along, your hand resting on the curve of your belly. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. For a moment, the weight of it all—the battles, the bloodshed, the years of flight—dissolves. This is what he fought for. This stillness. This peace. He sets the axe down and walks over, his boots crunching lightly on the frost-touche…