vera’s personal faves: surge - jotaro kujo, impatient - reiner braun, crossed - josh washington, lover, you should’ve come over - jean kirstein
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༊*·˚ ABOUT THE BLOG
Hello!! I mainly post fanfiction//drabbles//oneshots surrounding the fandoms in the tags below. ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و !!
I don’t update too quickly on my writing due to chronic illness, so please be patient. Adding onto that, I’ll write basically anything if it’s requested. Your wish is my command ♡!
I write for the following fandoms:
: ̗̀➛ Until Dawn
⋆˚꩜｡ contains: jean kirstein x fem!warrior!reader, reader is bertholdt's sister, canon-compliant, canon-typical violence
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: short chapter today, but i'm rewriting ch. 3 of surge right now so here's this partial rewrite as well
"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, cadets!" a Garrison officer hollers at your fellow freshly-graduated cadets cowering the crowded room, "Time to put your training to work!"
Bertholdt had breached the gate in Trost around twenty minutes earlier. Just as you all had planned, causing the entirety of the interior to immediately erupt into chaos.
You turn to look around you as cadets scramble like mice to get their equipment ready, shaky hands filling their gas canisters, many with tear-stained faces.
You bite the inside of your cheek. It has to be done, you reassure yourself, we need to snuff the founder out of hiding. It's been too long.
Sweat beads across your palms as you tighten the belts around your thighs holding your ODM gear up, ensuring they're secure.
This had to be done.
ᯓ
All cadets were to be stationed in the middle guard led by a support squad. The advance team stationed near the breach had already been wiped out by the titans, so it was up to the rest of you to do what they couldn't.
"Why did this have to happen now?" Jean mutters into his hand over his face, "Just one more day and I would have been in the interior--fuck, I can't do this."
You're sitting across from him with Bertholdt standing only a few paces behind him. Bertholdt pulls at his collar once, then again. Unbuttons it. You can't help but notice how his eyes stay glued to the brick beneath his feet despite the scene unraveling around you.
A cadet vomits next to you three in the grass, groaning as bile burns his throat. Another sits with her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around herself.
Jean rubs both hands over his face and huffs, his gaze not quite meeting yours across from him. He then pushes himself off the ground abruptly, pacing away and shoving his clammy hands into his pockets to mask the fact they're shaking.
Your eyes follow his figure until it disappears between to buildings.
Your feet are already pointed toward the alley he's turned into before you even think of following.
His head picks up the moment you near the mouth between the two buildings. His jaw is clenched as he prepares to yell at whoever approached him, gaze softening a fraction when he's met with your face instead.
"Oh, it's you." He shields his reddened knuckles with his other hand as you walk up to him.
"How're you holding up?" You ask tenderly, leaning against the wall adjacent to him.
"Well," his eyebrow twitches as he rambles, "the wall is breached, the advance team has been completely wiped out, the outer gate is history and the inner might as well be too because the titans are in, and they have cadets fighting them off."
You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild annoyance at his tone, "I mean with you."
"The hell does it look like?" Jean snaps, stepping closer to you, "I almost had it. I almost made it to comfort and the life I tried to build for myself and this happens the day before? There's a slim chance we make it out of this, and what then, will there even be an interior? Will we even be here?"
The way his voice cracks at that last part slips your mind
"Oh, don't bullshit me with that right now, Jean," you roll your eyes, words spilling out like venom, "people are dying and we need to step up and you're complaining about comfort in the interior? You could be a little less negative and put this energy into what we trained and prepared three years for rather than ignorance."
Your own words shock you for a moment. Four years ago you wouldn't have defended the lives of devils, you'd let them all die without a second thought. You almost made it happen.
Why do you care so much for the enemy, and why so much about Jean?
"Seriously, look around. You'd be stupid to think there's another possible outcome of this situation."
You scoff in disbelief and push yourself off the wall to pace away from him, turning once to speak to him over your shoulder. "Yeah, to help people, Jean. Not to sit on my ass and turn a blind eye for my own safety like the rest of those selfish uppity assholes. I didn't know you'd be just like them."
"That's not what I--" Jean began to say, his feet frozen right where you left him.
"Shit!" He hisses through clenched teeth after you storm away, his fist colliding into the stone bricks once more with a thud.
Bertholdt's eyes are blank and observant when you return, "So how'd that go?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
You zip through the air on your ODM gear, landing on a rooftop to observe the terrain around you. There aren't many titans left around you now, but many more are filtering in through the breach.
The titan blood soaking through your jackett reeks of something rotten and metallic. It's a scent you've grown familiar to.
Through the chaos, you'd lost four people of the squad you'd been assigned to. You shake your gas canister once before checking the dial. It feels light, you must have about less than 20% of your gas left.
You take another look around you. The only things in sight are steaming titan carcasses and bloodstains atop roofs and splattered across the street.
Nobody in sight, not for as far as you can see.
If you're going to make it anywhere, you'll have to use Jean's method of using momentum to preserve your gas. You wince at the thought of him. Even regarding the circumstances, you can't help but think of how he's doing. Maybe you shouldn't have said such cruel words to him before parting.
A drop of rain falls on your face. You turn your face toward the sky, feeling one after another fall around you until it's started to pour. To your left, a flare signal to withdraw to the wall is shot into the sky. You move to take a seat on the roof shingles beneath your feet and weigh your options.
"I definitely don't have enough gas to make it to the wall, so that's out of the question," you mumble to yourself with nobody around to listen. You sigh, bringing a hand to your face.
You take a look around once more. This time, a group of cadets scattered on rooftops can be spotte a little ways out.
On the rooftop is Jean, sitting with his head in his hands, lost in thought.
"Sitting here on this roof is totally pointless. Eventually the titans are gonna come for us!" Connie waves his arms around as he shouts at him, "We don't have much gas left and we'll just waste what little we've got if we try to run."
Jean's eyes are low as he looks up at Connie. Most of the surviving rookies regrouped on the rooftops around him, and it doesn't take long for him to notice you and your squad are nowhere to be seen.
Anxiety eats at his chest, a weight suffocating him at the mere thought that your corpse could be laying in a pool of your own blood on the streets or in the stomach acid of a titan.
"You're using your head for once, Connie. Nice going," Jean speaks monotonely, turning his head to the other cadets, "but I'm not sure if we've got the numbers needed to pull going to HQ off. The veterans from the vanguard are dead. How exactly are a bunch of rookies supposed to pull of a suicide mission like that?"
He continues, "And I bet the supply room is crawling with them, so not much we can do in there."
"So it's hopeless." Connie exasperates.
"Yeah, what a dull life this turned out to be," Jean rests his head in his hand, "I never even apologized to her."
"God, what did you do?"
Jean shakes his head, "I was an asshole."
"What's new?" Connie scoffs, managing to crack a smile.
You can see the cadets on the rooftops take off for HQ. As some of them progress, their ODM gear sputters and they go crashing into the buildings. You begin to wonder if Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt are still alive, but stop yourself. Of course they are.
With what little gas you have left, you follow the cadets to HQ. Inside, Jean counts the amount of cadets that have made it. Nine. And neither of them you. He turns to the others cowering inside of the room.
"Hold on--you guys are the supply team?" He questions, his voice low. His jaw clenches.
"Y-yeah," a male cadet affirms, voice shaken.
"You cowards! You left us out there on our own!" Jean outrages, yanking the cadet from the floor, his fist landing a blow into the cadet's jaw, "People died out there 'cause you didn't have the guts to do your job!"
His chest twinges at the thought of you out there without gas, dying alone because of those who were too frightened to carry out their duty for their peers relying on them.
"Jean, stop!" Marco holds him back as he thrashes against him.
"Titans were coming at us from every angle! They overran the supply room, okay?" A cadet with a brown ponytail cried out, rushing to the wounded one's side.
"It's your job to deal with it and back us up anyway!" Jean points his finger at them as Marco attempts to pull him back.
Reiner's the first one to see you coming. He stands by the windows, arms crossed and gazing out mindlessly, "Incoming."
You crash-land into the room through the broken window, rolling into a bookshelf, "Ow, shit."
Jean's anger dissipates immediately at the sight of you--alive. Breathing. Safe.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die quickly in his throat when the building tremors.
A giant opening is broken into the wall of the room, a gust of wind smelling of death sending a cadet standing near it flying backwards. A titan's face appears, eyes dragging over each of you like a dinner platter.
Your heart drops. Cadets scramble out of the room. Chaos erupts once more.
Jean stands at your side facing the gap in the wall, fingers trembling around the triggers of his blades. His breath hitches. "What--what the fuck?"
A titan-sized fist collides with the face in the opening. The titan goes flying, and then you see the body connected to the fist.
You immediately whip your head toward your comrades still standing behind you. You share knowing glances. Not in fear, but disbelief.
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: each passing day feels like a dream. the guilt of what you've come to paradis to do eats at you, but it doesn't stop you from continuing to pursue what your soul desperately reaches out for.
⋆˚꩜｡ contains: jean kirstein x fem!warrior!reader, reader is bertholdt's sister, canon-compliant, mention of psychadelics, alcohol consumption (underage)
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: lmk if you guys want me to post and link the case file detailing the Divine Titan. but i also want to include that coderoin was from the operation annie kinda investigated during her ova, i just made it into a psychadelic in this fic. also pls ignore the format differences with the em dashes, i copy/pasted the og chapter i wrote on my phone and edited it on my laptop, idk why they have different formats :((
You were having dreams again. Not the ordinary ones—no, these were different. One of the burdens you carry as a successor of the Divine is the prophetical dreams, though they're mostly nightmares to you now.
You're shown your future memories in sequences you can't quite piece together until they're relevant to you in a time and place in which it matters. It's some sick attempt at guidance from the Founder Ymir, you assume.
It plagues you almost nightly--the nightmares. Most of them are bloody, agonizing, and paranoia-inducing. Rarely now are pleasant future memories projected into your mind's eye.
All of it makes it hard to convince yourself that it doesn't mean your shortened life is destined for nothing but misery.
The events don't usually come to you in chronological order. The whole thing disorients you and leaves you guessing, forcing you to put together pieces of a puzzle you've no clue what the finished product looks like.
It doesn't help that you've been getting them more frequently as your time in training progresses and you tumble deeper into the point of no return that is Paradis Island.
You can feel your mind changing by the day, and you've come to notice you're not the only one.
At first you thought Reiner was one hell of an actor, but it doesn't take a genius to see how he's slowly changed. Really changed. That wretched look in his eyes is occasionally replaced by something calmer—more focused, less guilty, less angry. Like he's a completely different person.
One minute, he'd be reprimanding you for being so close to the devils. The next? He's speaking enthusiastically with his arm hooked over Eren's shoulder during training.
You almost forget you're warriors for a moment when he's like that--just up until he drops it completely. A part of you wishes you knew the secret to his facade, because your guilt only grows every day you're on this wretched island.
⋆˚࿔
You think back to the bits and pieces that you remember from the dream you had the night before.
Your vision was clouded again, a pattern you'd noticed for the past couple nights. You could only feel. You felt as you phased through different scenes, navigating your surroundings with your other senses.
"What is this?" A muffled voice asked you with a familiarity you couldn't quite place.
"Coderoin," your voice came out of your mouth by itself, and you could only sit as a viewer in your own body as it continued, "I got some from Annie--doesn't matter--I've never tried it. Connie said I should bring it, so..."
"Fuck it. I'll try it with you too," the voice replied almost instantly, then stammering only slightly, "I mean, only if you want to."
You could feel the scene change, vision still cloudy and hearing as if you're underwater. Through it all, you could see a faint fire in front of you and hear the chatter and laughing of fellow soldiers. You felt light, yet heavy and connected to everything, melting into whatever you touched.
Your vision cleared only slightly as you blinked at the familiar figure across the fire from you, phasing in and out of your line of sight.
The noise that once engulfed you seemed to go quiet, the figures moving around you now merely blurs in the background. In all of the noise, he was static--unmoving, eye-catching. Embers came up to cover his face, though you could feel that his gaze never parted from yours.
You blinked, the scene changing once again. Now, you were pulling the figure along by his hand as the two of you stumbled into the forest, giggling and bumping into each other with every other step as the trees and the leaves and the forest floor melted into one.
Blink. A curious, slender finger traced over the features of your face, studying each dip and curve. A giggle rippled through your chest, a hazed smile painting your lips.
Blink. Your heartbeat felt as if it was slamming out of your chest, and you could feel it through your palms suddenly braced against a log behind you. The air around you rippled and distorted, yet the figure in front of you remained the same.
Blink. A hand on the figure's chest created an electric current between the both of your bodies, the buzzing frequencies you'd only just discovered connecting the two of you to both each other and the rippling environment around you. It all seemed to fuse into one--into mere being.
"My cheeks hurt," he'd mumbled, the voice oh so familiar yet so unrecognizable and surreal in your sleeping state.
"Well you've been smiling, like, this whole time," the words spilled out of your mouth as you were a mere spectator in your head, your hand moving from his chest to cup his cheek in a fluid motion, "what're you thinking?"
Nothing but silence followed--only his smile reaching his eyes softening around the edges into something else--his face leaning into your touch, gazing at you with those blown-out pupils that seemed to burn holes into you each time he stared.
The sounds of the forest and laughter from the rest of the group had grown distant then, the only sound being your hearts once quietly beating now amplified by your apparent trip.
Blink. Bodies suddenly impossibly close, sure that if you moved an inch closer, you'd fuse together and your souls combine.
Your eyes gazed into one another's, as if reading your whole lives through the voids that were your dilated pupils.
Blink. Your vision cleared slightly, and you were able to decipher who the figure had been.
"Jean?"
⋆˚࿔
The dreams usually ended once you'd figured out an important detail, or if it had been decided that you'd seen enough. As humiliating as it was to admit, that may have been the only time you'd hoped a dream would last longer.
Usually, you confided in your comrades for advice on decoding the dreams--this time you didn't. Rightfully so, because rarely are your dreams positive, let alone scenes of the events you could only imagine living out with a boy you weren't even supposed to like in the first place. The dream could've been fake, but it felt so real. You could feel his touch, his breath, his heartbeat.
And if the dream really were prophetical, that would mean you'll drop your duties as a warrior to pursue your own selfishness in the near future. The thought doesn't spark as much shame in you as it should.
But you try to push yourself away, you have to remind yourself what you'd come to Paradis to do. You remind yourself how you wake up shaking at night, having to live on such wretched land, thinking about what would happen if your cover's blown.
Yet your cheeks still flush when he speaks to you, hangs around you, when you get a peek at his charcoal sketches of you he'd drawn while you weren't around.
You still flock to him, like there's a magnet pulling you toward each other. You try to pull against the current, you really do. It's so, so wrong. You're essentially betraying your nation and your comrade's trust by earning the trust of such devils.
Devils, you convince yourself, that's all they are.
That thought crumbles as soon as those hazel eyes meet yours from across the room.
⋆˚࿔
The days before your closing ceremony and graduation came quickly, as did your biweekly meeting with your comrades.
"While you three slept like babies after playing with your 'friends', I was crawling around the Capitol's sewers," Annie muttered, "hit my limit, almost got caught."
"Hit your limit, huh?" Reiner's eyebrows knitted together as he spoke almost mockingly.
"Let's cut our losses and take what we know back to Marley," she exasperated, "at this point, they'd be happy to hear anything."
"No, five years? They'd want to have more than a few scraps of information," Reiner shook his head. He put his hands on his knees, stood abruptly from the log he was seated on.
"Alright, asshole. Do you have a plan?" Annie pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.
"Yeah, we breach Wall Rose. It's the best chance we have of smoking out the Founding Titan."
Bertholdt's eyes scanned the weeds in the grass below his feet. An attempt to distract himself from the destruction that had yet to come from his own two hands.
"And that means killing your friends," Annie objected, "the ones you pretend to care so much about."
Your stomach lurched at the statement. Why did you care?
Reiner sighed, "I keep telling you, Annie. They aren't our friends. They're devils," he hissed, kneeling down to her level, turning his head to you as well, "you too, Y/n. You're getting a little close to Jean these days. Remember what we came here to do. You do know how it'll end, don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, it's not like that." You muttered, a twinge of regret pulling at your chest.
"Keep telling yourself that, we all know that's not true," Reiner huffed, turning his attention back to Annie, "but it can't hurt to gain their trust. We can't let them suspect us."
The twinge of regret still sat low in your chest, weighing you down. You knew it was like that. You knew what was going to inevitably happen, how you were going to hurt Jean in the end no matter what. Yet you can't stay away. Why can't you?
Breakfast the morning after the meeting is quiet. You push the food around your plate, not really eating anything. Reiner's words still replay in your head: "Remember what we came here to do. You do know how it'll end, don't you?"
Jean notices the shift almost instantly. He may seem dim, but not when it comes to you. He sits at the end of the table, eyes fixed curiously on you and the sudden change in your demeanor. You hadn't talked to him yet today, let alone even glance at him. Not at anybody. His head hurt trying to wrap his brain around it.
"Y/n, did you hear anything I just said?" Sasha's voice calls out, pulling you out of wherever you went in your head.
"Hm?" You hum, picking your head up, "Sorry, it's—I'm just tired, sorry."
"Well," she trails on once more, retelling her story, "I was just recalling on how Connie absolutely embarrassed himself at the lake yesterday while you were sleeping all day."
"Hey! Don't leave out the part where you totally almost got us caught because you were stumbling back to camp!" Connie butts in, leaning over the table.
You nod, and a laugh manages to slip out of you. It always does around those two no matter how bad you're feeling.
It's short-lived though, because as you subconsciously glance to Jean, that pit in your stomach sinks lower.
You avert your gaze back to your plate as if the food you'd pushed around for twenty minutes is more interesting than anything else in the room.
⋆˚࿔
After days of avoided glances, sleeping in, and excusing yourself from chow early, Jean catches you at the [unofficial] closing ceremony afterparty.
Your chest tightens immediately and you avert your gaze to your shoes. You knew you'd see him here. You didn't even want to come in the first place, Sasha and Christa had to physically drag you out of bed.
You're sat on a stack of haybales outside the abandoned barn bustling with tipsy teenage soon-to-be soldiers.
"Y/n?" Jean calls out from behind you. Although you can't see him, you know he's studying you as your gaze is stuck downward to the only cheap liqour the boys could get their hands on.
Maybe if you don't speak he'll think you're somebody else.
But he knows better. "Did I do something to upset you?"
As much as you'd like to continue to out of shame, you know you can't escape this conversation. You sigh before you glance over your shoulder, mouth opening as if to speak before closing once more.
"No, you haven't." You manage to blurt, watching as he steps forward and takes a seat next to you, facing the opposite way.
He turns his head, eyes glancing into yours cautiously, "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, I just—" he stammers, gaze breaking from yours momentarily, "something's off. Is everything okay?"
"You're not overstepping, Jean, you just care," you sigh, weights being added onto your chest heavy with the guilt of what's to come, "It's just—I'm fine. I haven't been feeling great, I'm sorry."
He nods slowly as you speak, attentive, "What's on your mind? Graduation? Whatever it is, you can tell me."
But you can't. So you don't.
You lie and dig yourself deeper.
"Yeah, you could say that." You turn your head to meet his gaze, managing to smile to yourself at the way his cheeks flush pink from the small gesture. From you or the alcohol, you weren't quite sure.
No matter what you do, you can't stay away from him. You can't leave it alone--like when you've lost a tooth but your tongue can't stop prodding at the empty space.
"Well, you're set for the MPs," he looks down at his hands fumbling with his own glass, chattering on, "if that's still your plan. I mean, you're talented. You ranked number four in the whole class, which is pretty impressive."
"Thank you," you smile, sipping from your glass, "you didn't do too bad yourself, Kirstein."
"Yeah. Don't know how I ranked beneath Yeager, though." He scoffs.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You still ranked top ten out of over, what, 200 graduating cadets?" You stumble over your words slightly as you reassure him, nudging his shoulder and leaning toward him subconsciously.
Jean nods as you speak, the words only beginning to snake their way through his thick skull once they're spoken with your honey voice.
There's silence for a couple beats, broken as Jean speaks up, "The MPs are still your plan, right?"
"Of course, that's been my brother and I's plan from the start. Why?" Your eyebrows come together in confusion, bringing your glass up to your lips to take another sip.
"I don't know," Jean trails off for a moment, surely the alcohol had just gotten to him, "it feels like a lot of people were swayed by Eren's speech at dinner—if that could be called a speech."
You snort, "seriously?"
"Yeah, I'm not sure why I thought you'd change your mind as well," he laughed to himself, his head in his hand, "because out of everyone I know, I think you'd be the last to be a sheep, you know?"
"Sheep's definitely a word choice," you raise your brows in amusement as he rambles.
"And I was just wondering because I'll be there--we'll be there. Me, Connie, and 'Sash, I mean. But I'd like you to be there, too, with me--with us."
You only nod, taking note in how Jean stumbles over his words while he searches for the best words.
From the barn watches Reiner, the only other one of your comrades who bothered to show up. He observes you and Jean now sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the haybales, faces flushed pink, laughing at each other's remarks.
He rolls his eyes. "Sheep". Don't you get it? All you are is a sheep, the longer you stay on this island and the closer you get to the enemy.
He watches as your giggles subside, your faces now impossibly close. Your intoxicated grin reaching your eyes as they gaze into Jean's. Reiner takes a swig from his glass of whiskey, turns his head away from the two of you.
"You do know how it'll end, don't you?"
And you do know. But something in your gut tells you that you need this. You should be shameful, really, but you aren't. It's hard to feel ashamed when it feels so good.
Hey lovelies, I just wanted to give an update regarding my lack of updates.
My physical health has been declining as of late due to a flareup so I’ve been in and out of the hospital and resting. I am okay, I just wanted to give a little bit of an explanation because I do want to write so badly, but I unfortunately don’t have the energy.
I know that you all surely don’t mind, but I just wanted to share why I seem to disappear for periods of time and why I will most likely continue to.
Take care, love you all!! Thank you so much for all the support! <33
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: night swimming with jean, connie, and sasha.
⋆˚꩜｡ contains: jean kirstein/fem!reader, reader is a warrior, reader is bertholdt’s sister, canon-compliant, canon-typical violence
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: crossposted from wattpad!! slightly edited because it was old. thank you for everybody who read it when it was originally released, i really appreciate all the love!! reader in this fic slightly physically resembles bertholdt—having black wavy/curly hair and ethnic features (self-indulgent i fear). although there aren’t many specific mentions of appearance.
"A little birdie told me you were thinking of going tonight," Sasha whispers to you creepily as you read in your shared bunk, making you flinch and send your book flying over the edge of the railing.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Sasha?" You groan in annoyance, leaning over to pick your book up from where it had jumped out of your hands.
"I thought you'd like it," She pouted, slipping into the bunk next to you, "you are going, right?"
"Now what would make you think—nevermind." You sigh, "Yes, I'm going. What time are we heading down to the lake?"
"Around midnight maybe, they might be there earlier. Depends on whether there's a Garrison dude out there on watch tonight and when he gets off."
"And who's gonna be there?" You question, folding the corner of the page you're reading to save your spot.
"Just Jean and Connie, I think," Sasha mumbles, biting her fingernail in thought, "Marco said he needed to sleep tonight, so he wouldn't be going."
You nod and pretend you aren't thinking of seeing Jean again. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive.
You're well aware your comrades would murder you if they found out you were getting distracted by a boy. It's an innocent crush, is all. What's the harm in indulging in something interesting in your time here?
⋆˚࿔
The girls' cabin is still mostly awake at midnight. You and Sasha slip out of the cabin once you're sure the other girls won't ask questions. On the way out, you two stop by the locker room to swipe towels and a lantern.
The walk through the woods is a little lengthy, the only things lighting the way being the moonlight above you and the flickering candlelight of your lantern. Sasha seems to know the way through pretty well, so you don't worry too much.
You finally reach a clearing on the cliff overlooking the lake. The water shimmers underneath the moonlight and stars above. You near the edge, assessing how far of a drop it was into the water—only about 20 feet or so.
Two figures sit on the shore, not too far from where you are now. One of them in particular squints at you and Sasha, attempting to get a better look at you two.
"Hey, you two!" Connie shouts, waving his hands above his head, "why don't you get down here?!"
"Why don't you guys come up here?" You shout back, setting down your things on a nearby log. Connie groans, but the other figure, Jean, drags him by the upper arm to meet you at the cliff.
Sasha hands the boys each a towel as they approach.
"Why'd you want us up here?" Connie asks you, throwing his towel over his shoulder.
"Because I wanted to jump off here into the water," you shrug, pointing at the ledge behind you, "and you guys are doing it with me."
You smile in amusement at the changes of expressions on their faces, though Sasha is the only one who's willing.
"Oh, hell no." Jean scoffs, crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"What, you scared, Jean-bo?" Sasha teases, already taking off her shoes.
"I told you to stop calling me that," he groans, a blush creeping up his neck, "and no, I'm not scared. It's--just a long way down."
"Only 20 feet or so," you shrug and pull your shirt over your head, folding it and setting it on a log next to you.
You continue conversation, but it's hard for Jean to follow when you're standing in front of him like that. Underneath your shirt was a white bra with small lace details at the top, the thin straps stretched over your defined collarbones. Your soft skin seemed to glow under the moonlight and stars above, every curve and scar and dip illuminated.
He's lucky it's just dark enough for you not to notice how his face flushes pink at the sight. How could you walk around like that, how you are every day, and not feel exposed under this spotlight that seemed to shine on you wherever you went?
He's snapped out of his daze as Connie and Sasha run to the edge together and leap off, arms and legs flailing, voices echoing down until they hit the water.
"Come on, I'll do it with you." You beckon him toward the edge, and you're completely rid of your clothes now, left only in the white bra and matching underwear.
Jean nods, as if in a trance under your soft gaze, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out of his jeans.
Damn.
You catch yourself staring at him, wandering eyes tracing the curve of his neck, his biceps, his toned stomach. He takes a step toward you, reluctant.
Your eyes trace from his figure back up to his face, only less than an arm's length away from you now. His eyes flit over your face in the closer proximity, gaze lingering on your lips before having to physically be brought back up to meet your eyes.
Your voice is caught in your throat, words once so clear in your head now completely lost. Your mouth opens to speak, but words don't come.
Jean clears his throat. "We doing this?"
"Oh. Yeah." You smile sheepishly, holding your hand out fpr him to take. He hesitantly takes your hand in his, fingers lacing together. You look to him, a warm blush creeping up your neck to your cheeks.
He could've melted right then and there.
"You ready?" You ask, squeezing his hand once, eyes lingering on his for what seems to be just a second too long. He nods, squeezing your hand twice more. You get a running start, adrenaline coursing through you as the two of you leap from the edge, hand in hand.
"Oh, shit!" You shriek on the way down, feeling as if you're falling in slow motion.
You plug your nose as you land in the water with a splash, your body going completely under for a couple seconds. Jean comes up for air before you do, smoothing his hair back and wiping the water from his eyes.
"See, wasn't so bad now, was it?" You say after you resurface, wiping the water from your face with the back of your arm.
"No, it wasn't," Jean admits, out of breath, "y'wanna do it again?"
A smile spreads wide across your lips as you nod, almost too quickly, and turn to swim back to shore. Jean lags behind a second, frozen in his thoughts. If it had been Sasha or Connie, or hell, even Marco on top of that cliff coaxing him to jump off with them? He would flat out refuse. No matter how much convincing, he wouldn't give in. Not for them, not for anybody.
But you?
Jean was fighting silent battles against himself in his head over you. Why are you able to sway him so easily? If it had been any other girl, he'd make up an excuse: No, his hair had just been styled; No, it's not safe to jump; No, he'd just rather not.
Because in actuality, Jean's a pussy. He acts cooler and tougher than he actually is, but you seem to see right through his facade—and you don't care, not about who he tries to be, at least, but about who he really is.
He never would've jumped if you hadn't been right there to convince him to do it with you, your hand extended out to him, sweet eyes pleading. And he followed blindly—as if you had him under a trance. If he were a sailor and you a siren, he'd already be overboard from your song.
The thought doesn't concern him as much as it should.
If anything, something about you made him feel fucking amazing. You're outgoing, you're genuine, you know what you want and what you're worth. It radiates off of you like glitter, rubbing off on and sticking to anybody you let get close to you.
And, god, were you as beautiful and interesting to him on the outside as you were on the inside—something about you that's pretty hard to miss. Your appearance is strikingly similar to your brother's: you're on the taller side (not that he's complaining, he's tall himself). You have black hair that cascades over your shoulders in half-waves-half-curls, the frizziness depending on whether you feel like styling it or not that day, he's noticed. Your outfits, though clothing in camp is limited, feel purposeful and thought out yet effortless at the same time.
When your fingers intertwined only moments before you both plunged into the dark lake below, he felt the warmth and confidence radiate through your palm to his. It spread starting in his hand, coursing throughout his nervous system to his whole being like electricity. It numbed his brain instantly, his racing thoughts and anxiety expelled out of his body to somewhere far away and completely unimportant to him in that moment.
That was something he knew nobody else could do to him.
Something about you was new—completely different from anybody he's ever met before. You were really something else.
"You coming?" You yell, waving your hands from where you've reached water you can touch the bottom in, "Any slower and I'll do it without you!"
Oh, that too.
You seem to make Jean lose his train of thought often. He can't count the amount of instances in which it's happened on one hand--because he can't even remember how many times it's happened, it's happened so often.
⋆˚࿔
Instance #?. ODM training. He'd been watching you from afar, head tilted to the side to get a better view of you zipping through the trees. Jean hadn't been looking where he was going, so he had to be yanked to the side last second by Marco to avoid running straight into a tree.
"I was warning you, man," he remembers Marco saying, "did you not hear me?"
⋆˚࿔
Instance #??. In the classroom. Shadis had been educating you cadets on formations for expeditions, a mandatory lesson no matter what regiment you had your eye on. You were sat in the row directly in front of him, two seats to the right. He'd observed you well enough at this point to know you were sat next to Bertholdt, Annie, and Reiner.
Reiner was on your left, Annie on your right. Jean could see your face when you looked at Reiner as he talked to you, nodding and looking into his eyes and stifling a laugh with your hand. It made his stomach twist—how Reiner was able to be so close to you, how he could catch your attention and make you laugh.
Jean let his mind wander. Could he get your attention like that, would you brace yourself on his shoulder and laugh whenever he said anything remotely funny? What was so different?
"Kirstein!" Shadis's voice bellowed through the classroom like a bull, snapping Jean's attention forward, "Aren't you listening, son?! Where does the commander lay in this formation: the left or the right flank?"
"Uh, the right?" He remembered answering, wishing he could crawl into a hole from being out on the spot,
"Trick question, maggot!" The bald instructor took his pointing stick, slapping it on the chalkboard to get the class to look at his diagram, "the commander takes place here, in the middle. Pay attention during my lecture."
⋆˚࿔
There were many, many more instances, far too embarrassing for Jean to recall in that moment.
"What're you thinking about?" You ask him as he makes it to shore, sitting on the sand next to you, "You're like, completely zoned out, man."
"Oh, nothing, just," Jean stammers, trailing off, "it's nothing."
You squint your eyes at him, tilting your head down to meet his gaze, "Don't bullshit me, Jean."
"It's so stupid."
"Tell me."
He sighs, rolling his head to the side on his shoulder to face you, "It's just that I don't think—I mean, I know—I know I would've never done that had it been with anybody else." He stumbles over his words, heat creeping up his neck.
"Why, because you're lame?"
"Wow, okay," Jean scoffs, looks away, "but, yeah. Something like that."
"I'm just kidding," you laugh, flashing your sweet, contagious smile, hand braced on his bare shoulder for a moment as you clarified, "You're not lame. I think you're pretty cool, actually."
"You think I'm cool?"
"You don't?"
"That would be pretty self-centered, no?" Jean raises an eyebrow at you, a soft smile painting his lips. He has to pretend his heart isn't doing somersaults because of a mere compliment from you--how you'd just said it so casually.
"I don't think so. You don't have to be self-centered to be confident." You shrug, bringing your legs to your chest and resting your chin atop your knees.
"I guess so."
"And honestly, I wish some people would put themselves out there more without worrying about stuff like that," you explain, gaze leaving his to look at the stars reflecting on the water in front of you, "like my brother. He's so close with me and Reiner yet so... different, you know? Same with Annie, except she doesn't care what people think, she's just quiet."
"You and Reiner," Jean starts, face heating up, "are you two like, a thing, or?"
You blink at him.
"Okay, first off, ew." You start, "Second off, I've known him since I was, like, nine, and he's disgusting. He's like a brother to me, though I prefer my actual brother because he's much more—sophisticated."
You go on, "And do I even start on his crush on Christa? God, I love him but it's a little weird. Shit--please don't tell him I said that, though."
Jean lets out a sigh, not realizing he'd been holding his breath in anticipation of your response. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't that.
"I won't tell him, I promise," he smiles, watching you as you gaze at the waves shimmering ahead under the moonlight, "we gonna jump again?"
"You're sure asking a lot for somebody who really didn't want to before." You tease, glancing at him as he stands.
"Well, I'll only go if you do." Jean extends his hand out to you, and you take it, hoisting yourself off of the ground. Your hand lingers in his for what feels like a moment too long.
"Awe, I'm honored." You hold your hand over your heart dramatically.
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: you and jean finally talk together during odm gear training! he seems to be your lucky charm
⋆˚꩜｡ contains: jean kirstein/fem!warrior!reader, reader is bertholdt's sister, canon-compliant,
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: crossposted from wattpad, edited slightly because it was old.
You thought you'd recognized him before. His name is Jean, nicknamed "horseface" by fellow cadets, though he isn't unattractive like the name suggests—far from it, actually.
To you, at least.
The mysterious boy you've seen around camp still has yet to formally introduce himself to you. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's been blatantly avoiding you--considering you have quite a few mutual friends. He steals glances at you when you're not looking, his face flushing red whenever you lock eyes.
You've slyly asked around for his name the past year and a half you'd been in training. One day you'd nudged your brother in the shoulder to ask who the boy was, feigning as if you'd never caught his name despite him being around.
"His name's Jean, I believe," he nodded toward the ash brown-haired boy ahead, "why ask?"
"Oh, well—" you thought to yourself for a moment to make an excuse, "just to put name to the face? You know, the kid always talking about being with the MPs."
Real smooth.
The look on his face made it evident he didn't believe you, but he was far too tired from training to care.
⋆˚࿔
You have one off day a week in the cadet corps. Yeah, one. Most sleep through the day, the exhaustion from six straight days of training finally catching up to them in dormancy.
Not you, though. You've been jogging around the perimeter of camp with Annie since you'd woken up--because although you're on Paradis training to be in their militia, you still seem to be stuck in your old, warrior routine.
You have the hood of your sweatshirt pulled over your head to shield your face from the cool morning air as you pump your fists, pace changing from a jog to a run in an attempt to warm yourself up.
"Hey, you two!" Reiner calls out from behind you and Annie, catching up, "What're you slackers planning on doing with your free time today?" He bumps your shoulder playfully as he enunciates 'slackers'.
You scoff in amusement. "Slackers? Did you or did you not just get out of bed while we've been out here for, hold on," you gauge at the sun's position in the sky, "two hours?"
"Hey, I got up in time for breakfast in less than an hour, give or take," he holds his hands up in defense, "but you two were definitely slacking during training yesterday."
He earns a glare from Annie, to which he shifts closer to you in an attempt to feel less of her wrath. It makes you laugh, how such a hunk of a guy could cower under one cold glance from such a tiny girl like Annie. "It wasn't graded nor mandatory, Reiner."
"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, turning his attention to you, "can't help but notice that nobody answered my question."
You groan. "Why don't you ask my brother what he's up to?"
"He'll probably sleep most of the day, you know him."
"Why not wake him up?" You question, slowing your run back down to a light jog to keep conversation.
"Yeah," he sighs, "but you're more fun."
"Wow, you getting sick of your boyfriend?" You joke, poking him in the shoulder.
He scoffs and looks away, before turning back to you, "Hold on, my what?"
You already know what he's about to do just by the face he makes: his eyebrows raised, dumbfounded.
"Nothing!" You laugh and start running, looking over your shoulder at him trying to catch up to you.
"I don't think it was nothing," he laughs with you between pants, "no, come back here—"
You shriek, running faster now, glancing over your shoulder at him actually catching up to you. Annie watches from ahead, eyebrows raised in amusement. Within seconds, big arms wrap around your midsection and you're hoisted off of the ground with a yelp.
The two of you messed around just like this when you were children, oblivious to the horrors of the real world; unaware of war and bloodshed and betrayal. You had no regrets, no shameful acts. You were just kids whose souls shined radiantly, but war snuffed out that light quickly.
You kick your legs as Reiner throws you over his shoulder, your stomach cramping from laughter. "Put me down, damn it!" You attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arm locked around you doesn't budge. You stop your movements for a moment, bringing your finger to jab into his side. He flinches, and you drop from his shoulder.
Jean watches the two of you across camp from the front patio of the boys' cabin. A knot seems to form in his chest and he can't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight. He doesn't even know you, why can't he look away--why does he feel envy?
Well, the knowing you part is a lie. He does know you, just not formally, of course. He's asked Connie and Sasha about you. He's asked about those two boys and the angry girl you hang around, what regiment you plan on going into, what your name is, if they'd seen how you looked at him.
"Dude, why not just ask her yourself?" Connie would groan after being berrated with questions about you.
So he stopped asking. He couldn't bring himself to talk to you because the only time he'd tried, you hadn't even heard him and he was a stuttering mess. It definitely put a dent into his ego.
Even when your friend groups intertwined, he couldn't look you in the eye for longer than 5 seconds without looking away, let alone hold conversation.
So he observed.
What he'd learned so far about you was this: You're amazing on ODM gear. During meals, you eat with your brother, his best friend, and a quiet girl who you seemed to be relatively close with, all four of you connected by coming from the same village. You planned on going into the Military Police. You were much more outgoing than your brother--it was strange to think the two of you were birthed by the same woman, given the polarity of your personalities. You fidget with the corners of the pages while you read a book. The shirt you wear with your uniform is a pale, muted green compared to the white button-up most cadets use.
One more thing he's learned about you: You and Reiner are closer than he'd thought. Were you two a thing? The knot in his stomach twists. His jaw clenches, unclenches.
But he can't look away.
Jean watches as you taze Reiner in the side with your finger, wriggling free from his grasp. You laugh mockingly as the bell for breakfast sounds.
"You're saved by the bell, buddy," You whoop, "try that again and I'll tell on you." You snicker at the childish insult, already pacing away from him.
"Oh, yes, tell on me to Shadis," Reiner scoffs.
"No, not Shadis," you point across camp from you, "I'll tell Annie."
"Oh yeah? What's she gonna do?"
"Stop bluffing! I know you're scared of her."
"Am not."
"Are too!"
"Will you two quit it?" Bertholdt puts his hands on each of your shoulders, redirecting the two of you toward the mess hall, "You're like two bad children, can't take you anywhere."
⋆˚࿔
Your hair whips around your face in the wind as you whizz through the trees of the Giant Forest with your ODM gear, swords in hand. Wooden titan dummies are scattered about in open planes between trees, soft fabric imitating their napes. Your eyes scan the landscape around you, trying to spot one of the dummies before another cadet can.
You retract the triggers on the sword handles, causing the wire hooking you to the tree to retract as well, before squeezing the trigger again, lurching yourself forward with gas. In the near distance, you spot an untouched dummy.
You bring your swords up, before slicing down into the makeshift nape. As you pass, you glance back to assess the damage.
Just too shallow. A couple inches or so too shallow. You curse to yourself and move on.
It doesn't take too long for you to find another, pushing your gas to make it to your target faster. You raise your swords once more, about to cut into the nape; then a pair of swords followed by a swift laceration appears on the fabric in front of you.
"The hell?" You curse in confusion, bringing your gaze up to the culprit. A flash of a familiar brown ponytail and cheeky grin whizzes past you.
"Gotta be faster than that!" Sasha giggles in her escape, arms raised above her head in victory. You'd grown fond of her this past year and a half in the cadet corps. If anything, you'd consider her one of your best friends. You'd gotten 'in' with most of the cadets in camp, actually, the direct result of everybody's love for Sasha.
"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" You taunt, slicing into the fabric nape before gaining momentum to catch up with her.
She sticks her tongue out at you over her shoulder playfully, and you smile. Her childlike nature has always put you at ease; it almost makes you forget what you came to Paradis for. You feel a twinge of guilt in your stomach when you remember.
Annie lectures you often about making friends on the island--making friends with island devils. So what? You're only gaining their trust. Surely making a few friends wouldn't hurt the mission.
Still, it makes you feel guilty every now and then--knowing what you'll end up having to do.
That feeling soon fades, and as does your smile when you see a figure barreling straight toward the both of you. Mainly toward Sasha, whose head is turned completely your way so she can make faces at you. Completely unaware of her fate in the very near future.
"Sash'!" You wince, watching as the two crash into each other mid-air at mock speed, losing their momentum and tumbling down 14 feet.
You immediately stop on a nearby branch to assess their injuries from above. It takes only a quick glance at the two on the forest floor to deem that idiot number two is Connie.
"They've gotta be some sort of stupid." A voice chimes from behind you. You hate to admit how fast you recognize it, considering you've hardly had an actual conversation with him.
You turn your gaze from dumb and dumber on the forest floor to the ash brown-haired boy next to you, breathing out a laugh, "What, y'saw that, too?"
"Pretty hard to miss," Jean flashes a sheepish smile at you, meeting your gaze once but quickly looking away, "why was she pushing her gas that much, anyway?"
"I think she was trying to race me to the next dummy?" You respond more so as a question rather than a statement, "I don't know. What goes on in that girl's head is a mystery to me."
"God, her and Connie are just two peas in a fuckin' pod." He shakes his head, watching the two scramble to get up as Shadis starts to walk over to them.
"Yeah, tell me about it," you laugh breathily, turning to him, "you know, I don't think we've ever actually talked before, let alone introduced ourselves to each other—formally, I mean." You stumble over your words, cheeks warming slightly in embarrassment of your rambling.
Real smooth.
"Yeah—I don't think we have." Jean stammers, his face growing hot and flushed from the exposure of your eyes on him.
It's not like you need to.
"Now, why aren't you two maggots up in the air with the other cadets right now?!" Shadis belts out at the two, clipboard in hand as he points an angry finger at them. You snort out a laugh.
Jean brings the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to supress his laughter, before turning toward you once more, "Should we wait for them, or..."
"Not if you wanna get as many points docked as they did." You reply, pulling your hair into a ponytail and turning on your heel in preparation to take off again.
You glance over your shoulder at Jean watching you from his place only a few steps behind, "You coming, Kirstein?"
He's frozen in place, mouth parted slightly in shock as if it were otherwordly for you to be talking to him. You, a girl--a beautiful one at that--sparing your training points to make conversation with him and personally asking him to train alongside you? It has to be fake.
You tilt your head and hum, waiting for a response from the nervous boy in dreamland ahead of you. It takes a few beats for him to respond.
"Uh, yeah," Jean stammers, nodding, "let's go."
You pull one trigger on your swords, lurching forward through the trees. Leaves and wide tree trunks pass you in a blur as you swing past them. A titan dummy's head pops up between leaves.
You approach swiftly after pointing the dummy out to Jean, pushing your gas to make it before another one of your classmates can. You bring your swords up, slice down. Another laceration follows after yours, and you asses both of them.
Perfect depth. You cheer, bringing your hands above your head in victory.
Every so often, you look to your left to check that he's still next to you, maintaining your speed through the trees. And almost every time, you lock eyes, the both of you looking away almost immediately.
You've never gotten nervous like this around boys growing up, and you grew up around a lot of boys. What's so different about him?
⋆˚࿔
When you'd gotten the order to fall back to camp when training was finally finished, you and Jean check the records to see how well you'd done. You read the list and the timeframes. The ones you'd done by yourself and with Sasha were ranked 60%; the ones you'd gotten by yourself with Jean ranked 90-100%.
"You didn't do too bad," Jean speaks with his eyes still glued to the paper, "unless you're looking at your scores with Sasha."
"Hey, we were talking, okay?" You huff, before playfully bumping him in the shoulder, "And what if you were just my good luck charm?"
He brings his eyes from the paper up to you, "Yeah? What if Sasha's just unlucky?"
"Can't take a compliment?" You ask, tilting your head slightly.
"Apparently not," he responds, eyes scanning your face for a moment, "I'm sure Sasha asked you earlier, but a few of us are going down to the lake to swim tonight if you want to?"
You spot your brother and Annie falling back to the mess hall for supper, motioning for you to come over. You wave at them from where you are.
"She was too busy being chased by me and crashing into Connie to ask me about it," you shrug, turning to go to the mess hall, "it sounds fun, though."
"So you'll be there?" Jean shouts from behind you as you walk away.
You look over your shoulder and nod, a warm, genuine smile painted across your lips that he can't help but smile back at. "I'll be there."
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: you're now enrolled into the 104th cadet training corps.
⋆˚꩜｡ contains: jean kirstein/fem!reader, reader is a warrior, reader is bertholdt’s sister, canon-compliant, canon-typical violence
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: this was originally posted on wattpad in 2025, so i’m cross posting on here so i can post new chapters here as well!! hope u like ;)) sidenote that the chapters reposted on here are NOT edited by me now because they're pretty lengthy and i'm not trying to do all that...
Blood dripped from the lengths of your hair onto your crimson-soaked clothes. Steam billowed off of you as it evaporated slowly. You blinked away the liquid as it started to drip into your eyes, wiping your drenched face with equally-as-drenched hands.
You hated when this happened, coming out of your titan vessel drenched in blood. It happened only as often as you pushed yourself too hard. If the marks on your face weren't enough to make you stand out in a place where you were supposed to blend in, this definitely took the cake.
Titan steam seared off of your titan vessel below you as you detached yourself outside of the great walls of Paradis. The outermost wall had been breached, kicked down by the Collosal. You stood atop the vessel that was now slowly withering away, watching as mindless giants filtered through the gap in the barrier separating the people of Paradis from the dangers of the real world. What a joke.
"Y/N, we have to get in." The all-too-familiar quiet voice of your brother called out from behind you. You turned, met with his sad blue eyes and black hair identical to yours. Titan marks were carved into his youthful face like exposed muscle. The first step of your mission had been complete.
"Okay."
⋆˚࿔
You remember what it felt like the first time. The serum being injected into your spine with a big syringe, the cool liquid coursing through your veins. Your predecessor in front of you on a concrete podium at titan mouth-level, hands in shackles above her head limiting her movement.
The cooling sensation filled your very being, numbing your limbs. You slowly faded out of consciousness as it was replaced with yellow-hot electricity. You blinked, finding that when you opened your eyes you were no longer in that room. A landscape of strictly sand stretched as far as you could see. Bright blue light emitted from the horizon. It started with one, wide pillar before branching off into millions of branches. They stretched above your head in the sky for lord knows how far.
You felt drawn to the light, like moth to a flame, and you began walking toward it. You sank into the sand slightly each time you took a step, bare feet passing through the fine grains. The white fabric of the ceremonial gown they'd given to you fell past your knees, sitting loosely on your shoulders. You'd been freezing in the concrete room you were once in, but not now. It was warm in this new place, like you were enveloped in a loving embrace.
As you began to near the light, you spotted a girl adorned in a white nightgown as well, shoulder-length blonde hair concealing her face. She seemed to be waiting on somebody. As you got closer, you came to realize that somebody seemed to be you.
The girl held her hand out to you, and you took it. There was nobody else in that moment, just you and the girl. You looked into her sad eyes, recognizing everybody you've known in the past and everybody you'll come to know in the future in them. You felt seen, like she knew everything about you and more.
You took her hand in yours, and she led you closer to the light. You reached out with your free hand, inching closer to the single pillar of light. Your fingertips passed through it, the feeling comparable to swishing your hands around a pond.
The girl tugged softly on your hand, beckoning you to walk into the light. Reluctantly, you follow her into the light. You blink again, and you're knelt on the floor of the concrete room once more.
⋆˚࿔
All throughout your life you'd been conditioned to believe the people of Paradis were island devils, merciless killers, the heavy burden on your Eldian shoulders.
At a young age you were told that your Eldian blood was tainted, that you were no different from them; that you, too, were a devil. Because of your ancestors, you were cursed to live in poverty and oppression like a mutt in a cage. Their heinous acts left you below everyone else—less than a person.
Life in your part of the internment zone was rough, to say the least. It was dirty and packed. Your mother had passed away with a needle in her arm, leaving your father to take care of and support both you and your older brother, Bertholdt. The two of you often ended up taking care of yourselves, finding and cooking food, getting yourself up for lessons.
In a world where it felt like everyone and everything was out to get you, you had each other to lean on.
Once you were old enough, your father made the two of you enroll into the warrior candidate program. "You can be heroes of the Nation," you recall him saying as he tucked the two of you into your bunk beds, "you can get us out of this damn prison."
It seemed convincing. You'd save your family from the generational curse of being less than. You'd be able to live comfortably rather than waiting for the next bad thing to happen, without spending days hungry.
In the Warrior candidate program, you excelled in many different areas of requirement. Medicine, combat, fitness, morale, and overall exemplary performance in the classroom. You were going to be, without a doubt, the successor of the Divine.
You were flung into war at a young age. Your first big mission at eleven years old: infiltrate the walls of Paradis and capture the Founding Titan.
It was ironic, really, the topic of the island devils being merciless killers, because you and your comrades had single-handedly killed hundreds of them. Surely they'd deserved it, right? It was a direct order, after all. Kick down the walls, sneak in amidst the chaos, infiltrate the military, get to the king and secure the Founder. Easy enough.
Yet here you stand under the blazing sun, three years after what you soon learned to call Wall Maria fell, lined up and in uniform alongside said devils. In order to infiltrate the military, you have to join them. You stand as upright as possible, arms crossed behind your back as you watch the bald recruiter shout in cadets' faces, hoping he'd walk straight past you like he did to a few others. He's intimidating for sure, prominent frown lines and wrinkles between his eyebrows most likely from years of scowling.
You mentally go through your cover story you've told so many refugees and people you've ran into on the way. I'm from a small village from the South of Wall Maria, you recite in your head. You remember the night you'd met the man who originally told the story to you. You, Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie sat around a fire with the stranger as he recalled the events of that tragic day.
"I awoke in the middle of the night, something was very wrong," you remember him saying, "The livestock were all stirred up. I opened my window to see those—monsters outside. I left behind four children around your age amidst the chaos."
You found that he'd hung himself later that night. His body slowly rotating side to side, the wood beam creaking above him under the pressure of his dead weight.
"He couldn't take the pain," you mumbled. Reiner only looked at you, before hissing, "damn devils."
You think back to where you were earlier that morning before boot camp in the ladies' room with Annie, adjusting your uniform in the mirror. She stood leaning against the concrete wall, watching as you fidgeted with the cropped jacket.
"Is it really supposed to be this short?" you stared at your reflection incredulously, "I can not walk around in this the whole time we're here." You gestured to yourself at the mirror, emphasizing 'this' as you pointed to your jacket.
"You better deal," Annie deadpanned, making her way over to you, "Who knows how long this'll take."
"How much are you thinking, months?" you looked at her through the mirror when she didn't answer, "Years?"
She nodded curtly, face devoid of any expression. Throughout all of the years you'd worked with her, you'd only seen her show any emotion other than 'blah' twice.
"We're going to be late," she said flatly, pulling her hair back into a bun, "let's run."
The mess hall later in the evening is bustling with adolescents chattering, eating, fighting. You sit at a table with your comrades, pushing around what they called food in the tin bowl in front of you. Reiner and Annie are invested in some sort of conversation, leaving you and Bertholdt sitting quietly beside each of them.
"Is this even edible?" you mutter, looking up at you brother to snicker. The two of you have an age gap of two years, but get along surprisingly well. Perhaps it's his shyness, or maybe because you only had each other growing up. No time for sibling rivalry.
"I'd just be happy they're feeding us," Bertholdt remarks. He's barely touched his slop as well, the tin sitting half-full.
"Yeah," you take a sip from your spoon, "I suppose there's been a famine since you-know-what."
You feel like you're being watched, a foreign gaze burning holes into the side of your head. Lifting your head up, you search the room for the culprit. Almost immediately, you find it.
His light brown eyes meet yours, looking away for a moment, you assume it's out of embarrassment. He takes a second glance, gaze locked on yours once more. The room feels like it's slowed, voices muffled and somewhere far away, unimportant to you now.
You take the moment to examine him as he does to you: he has shaggier ash brown hair with a dark undercut, a long, chiseled face, his torso adorned with a white button-up.
His mouth is slightly parted, almost as if he's in shock. Something pulls at your chest, and it aches, but you long for more. You watch as a light blush slowly creeps onto his cheeks. You bring a hand to your face, finding your cheeks have grown warm as well.
There's something different underneath it all, a feeling you're completely unfamiliar with creeping from your chest to your fingertips. It makes you feel dizzy, like getting off of a carnival ride back home.
You smile at him softly before your attention is forcibly torn back to your friends in front of you.
"Y/N?" your brother's voice pipes up. You look over to him, then your friends, whose faces wear the same confused expression.
"What?" you glance around the table in confusion, "Sorry, I was distracted."
"Clearly," Reiner remarks, and you have the urge to smack him upside the head but refrain from acting on it. "We were just talking about how we're going to get together to talk about the mission without growing suspicion."
"Respectfully, Reiner, they're pretty dim. We could talk right here," you motion around you and the other tables, spoon in hand, "everybody's pretty invested in conversation."
"Well, respectfully, Y/N," he begins to mimick you, "it's called playing it safe and actually succeeding, rather than getting caught and locked up to never see the light of day again."
"Just saying." you put your hands up in defense before bringing them back to the table swiftly, a faint smack sound coming from the tabletop upon impact.
"Can the two of you not argue for once?" Annie rubs her temples, "I won't be able to deal with this every damn day for however long this takes."
The table's silent for a few beats, you and Reiner sitting like guilty dogs with their tails between their legs for the rest of dinner.
⋆˚࿔
After that instance of seeing him in the mess hall, you start seeing the strange boy everywhere around Cadet Camp. You spot him going into the boys' cabin after your brother and Reiner, in the classroom, and during training.
And each time, it feels as if your chest is being wrung out, your heart beating out of your chest and your face hot to the touch. What is this feeling?
During sparring, you can't seem to focus.
You feel his gaze on you once more, something foreign panging in your chest. You glance over Annie's shoulder, meeting his eyes for a couple moments. The feeling was so strange, it was like passing a freak accident you can't look away from. No matter how much you want to. No matter how much you need to.
Your whole world is flipped upside down—literally, as Annie knocks you down, sharp pain shooting through your spine as you're slammed onto the firm ground.
"Damn," you curse to yourself, rubbing your back.
"You were distracted," Annie says flatly, "what happened?"
"Nothing, just spaced out. I'm hardly sleeping in that crowded cabin." you lie. Annie extends her hand out to you. You take it, hoisting your body up from the ground.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Annie huffs in agreement. She pats you twice on the back, motioning toward Reiner and a brown-haired boy making their way toward you in the distance. "I wonder what those slackers are up to."
"Well, we're about to find out."
The two of them approach Annie, beginning small talk before asking to spar with her. This was going to be good.
"Who's that?" you nudge Reiner in the shoulder, watching the brown-haired boy in a fighting stance in front of Annie. He has a bandage wrapped around his forehead from earlier in the day when he failed his odm balance training time and time again, losing balance and hitting his head on the pavement.
"Eren," Reiner crosses his arms in front of his chest, "why?"
"Because Eren doesn't stand a chance sparring with Annie blindly," you smile, "but you know that, don't you?"
Reiner only smirks. You roll your eyes. Those two dorks are going to get their asses handed to them. Before you can blink, Eren is knocked onto the ground, just as you were only moments before. That's what he gets for being too headstrong and impetuous, you get your ass handed to you.
You watch as Reiner laughs and makes cocky remarks, before Eren challenges him to spar Annie as well.
"Yeah, Rei, it's only fair." you smile slyly. He curses at you, slowly making his way over to Annie. Within seconds, his large frame is flipped over and knocked down by Annie's tiny body. That girl is strong.
Reiner rubs his side he fell on, "Yeah, thanks. In addition to how hard our bunks are, this definitely won't help me sleep tonight."
"Well, it's what you get, you're too headstrong," You reach up and act like you're knocking on his head. "it might as well be hollow up here."
"Yeah, yeah," Reiner sighs, and you hold out your hand for him to lift himself up from his recent fall. He hoists himself off of the ground, wiping dust and sand off of his uniform.
⋆˚࿔
You're in the mess hall now, the atmosphere bustling with chattering youth and the clinking of utensils. Annie and Bertholdt are quiet as usual, leaving the conversation to Reiner and yourself. Annie is withdrawn as always, and though Bertholdt seems to be as well, you know better. His facial expressions often give away what he's thinking, even if he never opened his mouth to speak. He follows whoever was speaking with his eyes, slight expression changes as one of you comment about anything relevant.
Annie, on the other hand, pushes her food around in her tray, humming in response only if addressed directly. You love her to death, but damn, was she difficult.
"And then he just-" Reiner goes on with his tangent you were only partially paying attention to, exaggerating spinning motions before slapping his hand on the table, "and hit his head like- bam! on the ground."
Annie hums an 'mhmm' to his statement, eyes on her food rather than the brawny blonde ahead of her.
"We were there, Reiner," you recall, resting your head in your palm on the table. He only rolls his eyes, pushing his empty tray away from his place.
"Yeah, well this slacker wasn't paying any attention," he remarks as he pokes at Annie from across the table, "just filling her in."
You sigh in both annoyance and amusement. He really was all brawn and no brains always poking at the tiger. The tiger being Annie. She looks up at him—no, glares at him through her lashes before rolling her eyes.
"You're lucky we have twenty more minutes of dinner, or I'd take you outside and you'd get your ass handed to you." She mutters, voice stern like a mother's tame scolding.
"Yeah? Like I'd let you." Reiner retorts, crossing his arms over the table smugly.
They start to bicker back and forth as cadets slowly filter out of the mess hall after finishing their meals. It's only you and a couple others in the mess hall now: you, Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt, who is trying to split up their argument; Eren across the room with a blonde-haired boy and a pretty black-haired girl.
You look back to the two arguing in front of you, Reiner pointing his finger across the table at Annie now, before having a double take across the room again. There, sat across the room was Eren. His bandages around his forehead seemed to be loose.
