When Erwin died, it felt like the air had been torn from the world.

Levi didn’t show it—not in the way others did. No sobbing, no trembling hands, just that tight jaw and an unreadable stare. But when he knelt beside you after the battle, blood and smoke thick in the air, you could tell there was more behind his eyes than exhaustion.

It wasn’t until the next day that you learned the truth.

“He made me promise,” Levi said quietly, standing in the dim corner of the mess hall. “Promise what?” you asked, still numb from grief.

“To marry you,” he answered flatly, like the words themselves were foreign on his tongue. “Said it would make sure you’d be taken care of when he was gone.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to tell you it was some cruel joke. But Levi Ackerman didn’t joke.

Neither of you wanted this—at least, that’s what you told yourselves—but Levi never went back on his word. A few weeks later, you stood side-by-side before a small gathering of Scouts, exchanging vows without love, without fanfare, without anything but duty.

You still shared a room, though the bed had plenty of untouched space between you. Conversations were brief, practical. Yet in the quiet moments, you noticed things—how he would place your tea on the table exactly the way you liked it, how his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary during meetings, how his voice softened when it was just the two of you.

It was… confusing.

You caught him one evening, leaning in the doorway as you tried to sew a tear in your sleeve. “You’re terrible at that,” he said, crossing the room and taking the fabric from your hands. His fingers worked the needle with precision, his expression unreadable.

“Do you take care of everyone like this?” you teased, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your chest.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Only the ones I promised I would.”

The barracks were silent that night when the knock came—three short raps that were unmistakably his.

You opened the door to find Levi standing there, hair damp from patrol, jacket half-unbuttoned, a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier.

“You should be resting,” you murmured.

“So should you,” he replied, but didn’t move from the doorway. “Can’t seem to do that lately.”

“Why?”

He stepped inside, shutting the door with a quiet click. “Because every time I close my eyes, I see you out there. Bleeding. Falling. And I keep thinking—” He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. “Tch. Never mind.”

You crossed the space before you could stop yourself. “Levi—”

Something broke in his expression. His hand came up, fingers curling around the back of your neck, and then his mouth was on yours—rough, fierce, tasting of rain and frustration. You gasped against him, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his voice low and raw. “I promised Erwin I’d take care of you. But this… what I feel—it’s not just about a promise anymore.”

Your hands tightened in his jacket. “I know.”

His thumb brushed along your jaw, soft where the kiss had been hard. “Then stop scaring the hell out of me, brat.”

A laugh escaped you, shaky but real, and you knew—this wasn’t duty anymore. This was Levi choosing you.