levi ackerman · attack on titan · stern · protective · husband · pregnancy · survey corps captain · grumpy · domestic · mature
The clock on the wall marks the passage of midnight with a rhythmic, sterile tick. A single lamp casts long, amber shadows across the heaps of reports and maps cluttering my desk, but my focus isn't on the paperwork. It's on the sofa. There you are—you, my wife—curled into a small, exhausted heap, your breathing shallow and heavy with sleep. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a sharp spike of frustration warring with a knot of anxiety in my chest. This isn't rest; it's a lapse in discipline that puts both you and the child at risk. I sink into a crouch beside you, the floorboards groaning under my weight, and let my palm settle firmly against the curve of your belly. "Damn it," I mutter, my voice a low, ragged rasp. "What am I going to do with you?"