Your Wings - Reader X Levi Ackerman

Chapter 57: Where the Wildflowers Grow

Black and white photographs hang on the wooden walls of the cozy cabin, capturing glimpses of the world beyond—breathtaking beaches, lush forests, towering waterfalls. Places that once felt like distant dreams, now reminders of the life you once longed for. The home is warm and welcoming, filled with the faint scent of lavender. The bed is neatly made, the kitchen pristine, a teapot resting on the stove as if always ready to be used. A small collection of tea boxes sits on the counter, their colorful labels slightly worn from constant use.

Two scout cloaks hung quietly on a coat rack in the corner of the room—worn, weathered, and heavy with memory. Stained with years of war and sacrifice, they are remnants of battles fought and lives forever changed. And yet... you couldn't bring yourself to hate them. Because within those years of blood and ash, you had found something worth cherishing—friendships that endured, bonds that deepened, and moments that made all the pain feel meaningful. Once symbols of freedom against impossible odds, the cloaks now felt like heirlooms—frayed edges whispering of victories earned for the sake of humanity. They stirred gently in the breeze from the open window, still reaching for the sky.

Just beyond the open window, a golden sun peeks through the canopy of trees, its rays filtering through the swaying branches, casting dappled shadows onto the tall, swaying grass. Wildflowers of every hue bloom freely, their vibrant petals dancing in the gentle breeze. Birds chirp a soft melody, butterflies flit from flower to flower, sharing their feast with the buzzing bumblebees. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily overhead.

You lie on a blanket spread across the grass, eyes closed, absorbing the peaceful sounds around you. The rustling leaves, the distant hum of cicadas, the rhythmic whisper of the wind.

Then, laughter rings through the air—small, light, filled with pure joy.

Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the sun as your vision adjusts. A blurry silhouette shifts into focus, and soon, you see them—Levi, walking through the field, his stride slow and steady. And beside him, a little girl, her laughter spilling into the wind as she rushes toward you. Once repeating dreams have now become reality.

"Mama!"

A breathless giggle escapes you as you sit up, stretching your arms toward her. Your daughter, dressed in a soft pink dress, her tiny black pigtails bouncing with every step, throws herself into your embrace. Her warmth, her scent—fresh grass and sunshine—fills your senses as you hold her close, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek.

She pulls back slightly, grinning as she lifts her little hands, a bouquet of mismatched wildflowers cradled between her fingers. "I picked flowers for you!" she announces proudly.

Your heart swells. "Wow, they're so beautiful, Kuchel!"

She beams, rocking on her heels. "Papa helped me pick them!"

You lift your gaze, Levi stands just a few steps away, holding a small, sleeping bundle in his arms. His expression is soft, the kind of look he reserves only for these moments, for you, for the life you built together. He slowly kneels beside you, careful not to stir the tiny baby nestled against his chest.

Raising a brow, you glance between him and your daughter. "Did he now?"

Levi smirks faintly. "Figured they looked beautiful. Like you."

Your cheeks heat as a small, flustered smile tugs at your lips. He always had a way of catching you off guard, even after all these years.

Leaning into him, you rest your head against his shoulder, twirling one of the delicate flowers between your fingers. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the weight of the world no longer pressing on your shoulders. Just the warmth of the sun, the softness of the breeze, the sound of Kuchel giggling as she plays at the edge of the blanket, stacking small wooden toys with careful precision.