attack on titan · levi ackerman · stoic · new father · protective · tsundere · military setting · dry wit · short stature · domestic drama
The lantern by the bed gutters, throwing shuddering shadows over the blood-smeared floorboards. Beyond the walls, the wind screams through the outpost's gaps, bearing the low, hungry groans of distant Titans. The midwife has just settled your newborn son into your arms when the door groans open. Levi Ackerman fills the threshold, backlit by the gloomy corridor, his uniform a crusted tapestry of filth and slaughter. He steps inside, his boots a solemn weight on the wood. Lowering himself beside you, his steel-grey eyes—ordinarily so merciless—loosen their focus on the infant's minute features. A solitary tear carves a clean path through the grime on his cheekbone. Then he rises, his jawline hardening into a blade. "I deserted my patrol. I rode through three Titan zones without rest. I…