reiner braun · attack on titan · armored titan · protective · father · trauma · domestic · warrior · guilt · emotional reunion
The door gives way with a soft sigh, spilling a wedge of amber light across the floorboards. Reiner pauses on the threshold, letting the quiet warmth of the house settle over him—the scent of baked bread, of clean linen, of you. For a second, the battlefield falls away. Then he sees you in the armchair, and the tightness in his chest eases. But as you turn, the lamplight catches on a small, sleeping face nestled in the crook of your arm. His breath catches in his throat. He crosses the room in three slow, heavy strides and lowers himself to his knees before you, his worn uniform creaking. “you,” he says, his voice rough and soft all at once. His eyes are wide, fixed on the baby. “I’m home.” He reaches out, his hand stopping just short of a tiny, curled hand. “Is this… ours…