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jeanbie · 1 year

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WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU #4 ★ masterlist.

pairing: jean x reader

genre: major canon divergence fic | warnings: scouting mission events, blood, gore, violence, character death, lance is fictional, decapitations | wc: 3.1k

note: emphasis on canon divergence! you've been warned :P

⏤ Imagine the way they say I love you. Imagine the words choked out as hands race over skin, checking for injuries and begging for reassurance.

Captain Levi told every recruit when they first joined the Survey Corps that one of the most important things to remember whilst being a cadet was not to pay attention, or remember to tighten your harnesses before leaving for breakfast, but instead, he preached that under absolutely zero circumstances should you ever, if you can try, ever fall in love within the ranks.

It hadn’t seemed obvious to the cadets at the time, because wasn’t love good? Wasn’t love what fuelled the motivation to return? Surely, Captain Levi, this was good. But, the Captain stared back at the crowd of novice cadets and frowned, a pinched irritation between his eyebrows.

“Imagine going into battle and becoming distracted because all you can care about is the safety of that person,” Captain Levi had said, gently resting his hands on his knees, speaking as though telling from experience. Perhaps he was. “Imagine putting all your love and time into this one person, and then having that person ripped from your hands.”

Nobody had said anything, and only sat there with dawning realisation as Captain Levi stood from his chair and tucked it under the table quietly. “None of you deserve that pain. Do as I say, and you’ll thank me when it’s all over.”

Jean had been there listening that day, sitting on a chair next to Lance, who had found himself a favourite of Squad Leader Hange. He had shifted uncomfortably under the judgemental gaze of the shorter captain, but as he walked away with his head tucked down and his chin on his torso, Jean suddenly felt a new wave of respect for his Captain. Watching as Captain Levi retreated out of the hall without another word, silently dismissing everybody present, Jean sucked in a breath when beside him, you nudged his elbow with a small smile.

Jean was not on your squad; despite joining the scouts together, Captain Levi had made the decision to split you, with Jean joining Captain Hange's squad and Squad Leader Mike taking yourself. As the gates lifted at a chillingly slow speed, Jean chanced a glance in your direction, and his heart paused when you looked right back at him.

Quietly he chuckled, the sight of a toothy smile hitting him in the face and then shyly retreating to look back towards the back of Mike’s head. Jean watched for a moment longer and then suddenly looked away, meeting the quick glance from Captain Levi. The Captain said nothing, because he didn’t need to say anything. Jean looked down quickly with a spreading feeling of shame at being caught, and frustration at being the first known cadet to break Captain Levi’s golden rule.

The city stood in spires of thick smoke, the distant growls of hungry and wandering titans filling the city as the squad rolled in, immediately falling into their formations. Nobody had ventured into this area since it had fallen, evident by the piles of chalky rubble and bodies and limbs littered like petals from a wedding, stained blood pools and flattened bodies underneath fallen boulders the size of small houses. Jean clenched the reigns of his horse tighter, the skin of his hands turning bone white- the city felt eerily silent towards the west side that Jean and the rest of his squad had moved towards. This time, and uncharacteristic of his Captain, Hange was wordless, looking at the damage quickly, missing nothing. Jean did the same, cowering as they passed the shadows cast by the passing buildings, jagged and reflecting like monsters teeth before the sun.

“Grumbling, east, Captain,” Monicka said, her hair framing her collarbones as she looked in that direction and then back at Hange, who nodded with a grunt and continued forward. “We should investigate that. It’s getting closer, Captain.”

“The surrounding squads will do their jobs,” Felix replied with a frown. “You should lower your voice.”

Monicka’s eyebrows furrowed. “But-”

Her words were cut short, following the thunderous stuttering of heavy footsteps both beyond and behind the small formation of horses. Jean’s stallion whinnied, standing up on two legs in protest and he quickly calmed him down, whispering hushed assurances as Hange looked behind them and towards two titans bounding towards them.

“Take those,” they said, already tightening their harness and adjusting their belt. Monicka clung onto the reigns of her horse and called out their name with horror as they stood up off their horse and projected towards the group of titans beyond the formation. A passing glance spread through the group as two other members followed their Captain, leaving Monicka, Jean and Franz to steer backwards, heading on horseback towards the two scurrying towards them, in an attempt to create a diversion.

“Left, Jean!” Monicka screamed over the noise of the wind and the hooves of the horses, pointing out as if it weren’t already obvious by her command. Jean paused and did as she said, making a movement left which alerted his horse to move in that direction, catching the attention of one of the titans. If he could just make it towards the end of this street, he’d be able to launch off and swing back around and-

As he planned his escape in his head, Jean had no time to retaliate at the sight of another titan jumping in front of his horse, startling them both. He attempted to grip for dear life on the reigns but when his horse again rose, he flung Jean up off his back and scampered between the legs of the titan, who crouched and ignored the mare to move towards Jean. He hissed out a string of curses and launched between the space of his legs, following his horse down the end of the street and turning up and out, landing on one of the sloped roofs of a nearby house, out of the titans scrawny reach.

From his stance on the roof, Jean could get a scope for the district; he paused to take it all in, the chaotic and destructive beauty of the fallen architecture and contrasting greens of nearby fields, spreading with dull flames and dry yellow grass dusted with brown and black. Jean rubbed at his thighs, feeling an ache and when he happened to look over in the direction of the nearby fields, he froze.

The characteristic sight of Commander Erwin’s blonde hair screamed out amongst the burnt landscape and immediately Jean’s body went cold, his eyes instinctively scanning the environment to look for you- for your hair, and your small frame, and the way your cape was too big due to sizes and stock being scarce. Your enrolment group had been larger than usual. He searched frantically, not even noticing his heartbeat increasing. Almost comically so, a large sigh escaped his lips when he spotted a retreating figure on foot, hair cut bluntly to their chin, the cape that had been pulled apart. Wait, on foot?

Jean launched himself down from the roof and towards the scene, passing the rest of his squad who had joined further down the street. He prayed that Captain Levi hadn’t noticed him whiz past from somewhere, but knowing Levi, he knew. In-fact, he watched with an almost pitiful look after having crossed paths with Hange's squad as Jean soared past, failing to mention it to the rest of Hange's squad who worried about Jean’s safety. Because Jean’s smart, Franz had said with a disbelieving smile, he knows how to get around, he’s fine. He could be punished later.

Down on the ground, Jean rushed past a pile of abandoned rubble and towards the meadow, however, he stopped dead in his tracks when the figure he had spotted rushed past him wearing a face entirely different to your own. His heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach, a sour taste in his mouth.

“Kirstein?!”

Jean turned suddenly, flinching when a senior cadet took down a titan near the river. Lance ran towards him with a worried expression. “Where the hell’s the rest of your squad? Is your captain okay?”

“I-I don’t know, a titan came and fuckin- look, have you seen Y/N?” Jean replied, straining his voice over the volume of the chaos. “Is she okay?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I’m not on her squad!” Lance yelled, and before he left, he smacked Jean on his shoulder and pointed in a vague direction: “Saw Erwin’s head of fucking precious yellow hair go that way. Dunno about Mike. She could be down there? I don’t know, look, I ain’t got time for this, sorry!”

So suddenly, Jean didn’t even care, or care to bid Lance a mutual farewell. Instead, he hurried across the dried and barren grass in the direction Lance had gestured to, parting the smoke with his bare hands like curtains as he ran. As he ran, and occasionally joined other cadets and soldiers take down loitering titans, Jean couldn’t rid of Levi’s voice, taunting and judging and hissing and yelling, Jean Kirstein you’re a fucking failure, you couldn’t even follow the easiest instruction, and now look at you!

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in him to care, as he ran towards where he noticed the body of Hans, another member of Mike’s squad. Jean’s pace quickened, bounding towards him, and as his mouth opened to call out his name, Jean stumbled back with a strangled cry when nearby rubble from a building came crashing down with the impact of an abnormal lunging at its structure, chunks of huge concrete and brick running down like a waterfall and suffocating Hans instantly, a halo of crimson running out from the underside of giant chunks of the nearby chapel.

All at once, Jean felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his lungs had taken in too much smoke for them to continue keeping him alive. As he began to fall back to the man made jungle of the district, to collect a horse who stood tied to a post, raging to leave in panic, Jean looked across the landscape one last time, about to give up. It was then when he noticed you- and it was you, there was no denying; you dragged a body from underneath a layer of stone towards a little shelter made behind a wagon, with two injured cowered underneath. Jean’s heart wanted to jump out of his chest and he set off on a run, although lengths away. He tried calling out, Y/N! My Y/N!, but his voice carried with the wind, lost in whispers. You couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t see him. Actually, you couldn’t hear or see anything.

Jean had never run so fast in his entire life. Still too far away, Jean couldn’t avoid looking at the landscape, observing collapses and wincing at roars of pain and victory, and exasperated deaths around him. When his bloodshot gaze fell back onto you, Jean’s eyebrows rose with horror when he noticed a titan creeping up behind you, an arm extending outwards with arthritic fingers curling near your cape. His voice rose in octaves in panic, and he was so close- so, so close-

Jean nearly fell over his own feet with devastation when the titan’s fingers curled around you, yanking you back like a ragdoll. He didn’t stop to marvel at the scene- he ran faster, launching a grappler into the shoulder of the titan and swinging up, choking in the wind and the smoke and the stale smell of blood and sweat and tears, and as he curved and dug his blade unapologetically into the nape of the titan, his face wrangled up in pain at the sound of your screams filling the air. For a moment he caught his balance on the shoulder, doing nothing but watching with horror at the way you fell to the floor in what looked like slow-motion, a chunk of your body missing.

“Y/N! Oh my God, oh my fucking God, Y/N-” Jean instantly moved to the ground next to you, his hands desperately scrambling at nothing- your left-side missing, blood pouring out like water between fingers. In haste, Jean flung off his cloak and wrapped it around you, choking back on his tears. “Oh my God, oh my fucking God, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“No-” Your voice broke off with a wince of pain, and you clung onto his hand tightly. “Jean-”

“Oh my God, no, please, come on, baby, you can do it, come on, let me help, come-” His voice trailed off as he hoisted you up by your armpits, dragging you with laboured breaths towards the wagon that had been splintered by the titan’s fall. Jean carefully laid you down, his eyes wide with panic. God knows how long you had left, your last few seconds hanging on by a breaking thread. He watched as your face paled and your soul struggling behind lips, fighting to be free. Jean let out a whine, his head falling to your intertwined hands: “Fuck, this is so fucking unfair. Why did it have to be you-?”

“Jean, please,” you forced your voice to speak. Perhaps he was imagining you tugging on his hands bringing him down, but he did so anyway, his forehead rested just above your breasts. “Jean. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “No. No, come on, Levi can help you- he knows what to do, he always knows what to do, we can save you, you’re not dying today-”

“I am. I am.”

“No.”

“Please, Jean,” you wept. Was the sky getting lighter or was that your vision. “Jean.”

“No!” He exclaimed with fury. “You can’t leave me- you’re the only thing I have left!” After a loud and particularly painful sob left his mouth, Jean moved with his thighs and picked up your head, resting it in his lap with his hands threaded in your hair. “You’re all I have left,” he whispered. “Please. You’re okay, you’re okay. It’s okay, yeah? It’s okay. It’s gonna be over soon, we’ll get you fixed up.”

He had no idea what he was saying. Nothing was okay. Nothing was ever going to be okay.

“I love you,” you croaked, bringing one bloody hand to his cheek and letting it fall back down, leaving a mark of agony across his face, “More than anything in the world.”

Jean could feel the tears spilling down his face, his breaths becoming more uncontrollable as reality came down from the sky and sat on his shoulders, petting his hair. He cursed with his eyes closed and looked down at your missing left side, the blood that had soaked almost black with intensity, the grass painted with ruby. In his head, he dreamt ten thousand dreams; ones that included a recovery, one with a sunny future and front porch and cornfields and a baby, a little baby screaming Mommy and Daddy and a picture frame with the three of you, a snapshot from a wedding, oh a beautiful future he had with you-

When Jean opened his eyes to look back down at you, the three words on his lips, his lips trembled with denial. Your face had paused, your eyes half-lidded and staring up at the sky with a vacant and ghostly expression, and then, Jean’s heart sank, falling with a crash that shattered it into thousands of pieces.

With hands in your hair, on your face, running your body, begging for reassurance and screaming for a sign, Jean cradled your limp frame in his arms, his sobbing face buried into the crook of your neck. Your body pressed against his rumbling crying, silenced by the city and the ghosts surrounding him, crouching to your body to pull at your hair and bring you up from the floor to a hug, walking you away across the barrens towards a golden light. Jean watched nothing happen, cursing out the sky.

“Did you say everything you wanted to?”

Jean sat with his legs swung over the side of the roof, not bothering to move when he heard Captain Levi’s voice call out from behind him, followed by the window being propped open and his smaller body moving to join him on the ledge.

“How’d you find up here? I thought we closed off that corridor,” Levi said quietly, looking at Jean who stared ahead, wordless. Levi sighed. “Did you?”

Jean finally blinked back a tear. “No.”

A beat of silence passed.

“What would you have said?” Levi asked, not pushing but inquisitive. If there was anybody in the castle who could keep a secret, it would be him, and Jean knew that, carefully picking up his chin to look at the sinking pink sun.

“I-I would have told her what I wanted to,” Jean started. “I would have told her that I loved her. That I wanted it to be me and not her. I wanted to tell her that she was the best thing in my life. That she was my best friend. That it really was me who ate the last of the cake at dinner last weekend and I lied and blamed Connie instead. I just- I would have let her know that I cared. That I’d miss her.”

Levi averted his gaze, looking down at the forests surrounding the castle. Such a lovely venue for such a dull affair, he thought, and in his head, he thought of that day, filled with rain and blood and complete and utter agony.

Levi licked his lips, swallowing his own lump. “They’re never really gone,” he said finally. “Not really. They’re still with you, one way or another.” He hesitated before pressing a palm into Jean’s shoulder with a tucked in frown. “I think she heard you. I think she knows all of that.”

Jean hoped so. He hoped that Levi’s words- words that could have been scolding I told you so’s and judgemental comments about how Love Finds A Way To Break Your Heart- were true, and he hoped that somewhere, somehow, you knew what your loss meant to him.

Jean hoped under the sun, the palm on his shoulder, the pinks on his skin, and the bloody handprint on his cheek like a badge of disgraced honour.

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean imagine #jean angst #attack on titan #aot #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #aot canon divergence #canon divergence au #angst #magunes #mine #jeanbie

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dorminchu · 6 days

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Between Heaven and Earth: Chapter Three

a/n: Trying out shorter chapters, for the sake of editing and pacing.

Before the breach, Eren’s biggest opponents were childhood bullies who picked on him or Armin, and the occasional doubter of the Scouting Legion’s potential. Whereas his mother was against the idea of his enlistment from the beginning, his father suggested he could become a field medic. After all, there were more ways to help humanity than killing Titans. A lesser evil, no doubt posed for his mother’s sake. To Eren, it was better than disapproval.

Once Mikasa came to live with their family, she took the spot next to Eren’s bed in the loft. She was so quiet, if Eren hadn’t gotten to know her so well he’d have assumed she was only shy. But she looked out for him in the same way he did Armin, like the sister he’d never had. Sure, she could be a little stubborn and overprotective, chiding him for picking fights he couldn’t win, but Eren never loathed her for it. She was just keeping him on the straight and narrow, same as he’d do for her or Armin or anyone important.

That afternoon they spent chopping wood. Mikasa was pretty good at it, having grown up in the countryside. Armin couldn’t keep the same pace with the axe, too nervous of the potential for harm. He’d struggle to carry home the amount of wood as Eren, though he never complained about it. When Eren offered to help him, though, Armin would snap that he was fine, that he didn’t need to be worried after.

Eren didn’t get it. He wasn’t worrying after Armin, anyone could see that he was struggling, but that just made it worse. So he gave Armin his space, for the sake of their friendship. Eren didn’t mind bringing Mikasa along. If Armin felt differently, he didn’t say.

On the way back, they passed by a couple Garrison soldiers playing cards. Mister Hannes wasn’t at his post to-day. Probably blotto.

“She’s part of the family,” Eren said.

“Yeah,” the Garrison soldier said, “we heard about what happened. You’ve got the luck of the Devil.”

Eren shrugged. “I’d do it again.”

The men shared a laugh, more to themselves.

Mikasa said nothing for a while. Moving on, the usual silence between them felt different. When she asked, “Why the Scouting Legion?” Eren hesitated. Armin had made him swear not to tell anyone about his grandfather’s theories. Not even his mother and father would speak of it.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Mikasa nodded.

Eren turned down a side-street, away from prying eyes. “ Because there must be a world beyond these Walls,” he said. “Just like the Titans. We don’t know where they come from or how they’re created, so it stands to reason we must not know about what’s on the other side of the Walls. Once the Titans are eradicated, we can take back what was stolen from humanity.”

“How can you be sure it’s true?”

Eren shrugged her off. “What does that matter if I’m sure or not? It’s our right to see what’s out there.”

Mikasa frowned slightly. “What’s out there?”

“Armin told me,” he said quietly. “His grandfather knows a lot of things about the outside world. He has books from the world outside the Walls. But his family could get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out. They’ll say he’s spreading misinformation.”

Mikasa nodded. She readjusted the scarf. She never went a day without it. His mother would’ve chastised her by now.

“You should wash it,” he said, “before you wear it out.”

“I know,” she muttered. “It just reminds me of you.”

Eren said, “Why does that matter?”

Mikasa wouldn’t talk to him. She wouldn’t explain what he’d done to upset her, either.

When they got back to the house and his mother asked how they’d been, Mikasa parroted his statement about the Scouting Regiment.

“Yes,” his mother said dryly, “I’ve yet to change his mind.”

Eren shot Mikasa a look. Was she still upset? Or just playing mother hen? What did she know about the Scouting Legion, anyway?

“The Garrison is already overcrowded,” Eren said. “And the Military Police is corrupt, they'd sooner sit on their asses then fix anything.”

“The military just want to boost their numbers,” his mother said. “They've been working on their slogans to make up for it.”

Eren scowled at the pile of lumber he'd brought in. Mikasa's eyes rested on the side of his neck.

“They’re doing the job that no one else can,” he said. “It’s more than the Garrison have done.”

The plate slipped from his mother’s hands and shattered against the floor. Mikasa flinched. Eren did not.

“The Scouting Legion,” his mother said, in a tight voice, “has taken more lives campaigning for a suicide mission than the plague did. If that’s what your heart is set on, you might as well just throw your life away.”

“We’re no better than livestock then. Why have a military at all?”

“Better to be livestock then carrion,” his mother said.

Even then, Eren couldn't muster any real animosity beyond childish frustration. She was saying it to protect him, the only way she knew. She'd lived her whole life inside the Walls and never questioned what she was told. She’d grown too comfortable, hunkered down in this house, wasting away.

While Eren took out his feelings on the washboard and laundry, Mikasa stayed behind to help his mother with dinner. Usually Eren would be the one pitching in, but with two equally stubborn people living under the same roof, they’d get into another argument if they didn’t cool off first. Besides, his mother had taken kindly to Mikasa. She probably appreciated the extra help.

After dinner, his mother took him aside. Eren was bracing himself for another lecture about humanity’s sake not being his burden, and how he should at least try to think about his future rather than an ideal. But all she asked about was Mikasa’s change in mood.

“Oh, well, I said she ought to wash the scarf before she wore it out. And she said it reminded her of me, which doesn’t change what I said. It’s her scarf now. She can wear it if she wants to, it’s just going to get dirty is all.”

His mother sighed. “Eren, I don’t think she’s unaware.”

Eren averted his eyes. “I reckon that I hurt her feelings.”

“She told me about the day you found her. It’s a nice memory,” his mother said. “Perhaps one of the few memories she has of that day. Sometimes, when people are grieving, they’ll act in ways that might seem a little strange. Just give her some time to adjust. I’m sure she’ll wash the scarf.”

“Right,” he said. He was about to apologise for their fight, but his mother had a habit of shrugging the topic off when it came to the military. So he wouldn’t bring it up anymore, at least not while she was present. Five years was a long time away from conscription.

As he got ready for bed, Mikasa was sitting by the window with the dying flame of a candlewick. The view wasn’t much. From the belltower, you’d be able to see all the way to the river that ran through Shiganshina. But here, you couldn’t even see over the Wall, though that wasn’t much to write home about either.

“It’s a nice view,” Mikasa said. “Even with all these buildings in the way. It’s a lot of roofs.”

Eren huffed. “I guess I never really thought about it that way.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About those Garrison men. I shouldn’t have talked so much about what happened.”

Mikasa looked at him oddly. “Why not?”

“Because—it’s none of their business.”

“All they need to know is that I live with your family now, after my parents died. Otherwise it would be a little odd.”

“Why would that be odd?”

She shrugged. “Because I had to come from somewhere. Unless Doctor Jaeger kidnaps children in his spare time, which isn’t likely. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible either. Maybe that’s why he’s gone for such a long period of time.”

Eren snorted. “You’re being silly.”

The corner of her mouth turned. “But he could be harbouring secrets we don’t know about. How do you really know he’s going where he says?”

Eren shook his head. “He’s just working in the next town over. Mister Hannes and the other Garrison soldiers know him. Captain Shadis, as well, so they’d know if he wasn’t where he said.”

“Shadis?”

“That’s right, I never told you. Captain Shadis is in the Scouting Legion.”

“Did your father ever join?”

“No, he’s just a regular doctor. I used to think he’d be a field medic at least.”

The candle snuffed out with the breeze. Eren hiked his shoulders up to disguise a shiver. Mikasa went to close the shutters and he said, “I’m sorry for what I said, about the scarf.”

Mikasa paused. “It’s all right.”

⁂

Between the evening of Wall Maria’s breach, and waking up next to Armin and Mikasa in the workhouse, there was a gap in Eren’s memory. Whenever roused, unsure of himself, he would reach for his breast and find the shape of the key. Physical evidence of the home he’d once occupied.

Armin and Mikasa, and Mister Hannes, they hadn’t watched. Eren could’ve closed his eyes against what was happening, but he was powerless. Clinging to rage, it wasn’t for the sake of bravery. It was the only just response in a world so unfathomably cruel.

On the boat, the Garrison soldiers gave them all rations and a canteen to pass around. When Armin passed it to him, Mikasa grabbed Eren’s wrist with a start.

He’d torn his nails attempting to lift the cross-section of a beam too heavy for him. When Mister Hannes pulled him away from the wreckage, Eren’s bloody fingerprints were all over his Garrison jacket. The dull red crust coagulated around his nailbed.

“It’s not that bad,” Eren said. He didn’t react to her grip.

Mikasa’s eyes turned stony. She tore a small scrap of cloth from the hem of her dress, before he could protest, and wrapped it gently around his fingers.

“You’ll see a proper doctor,” she said. “Once we get to Trost.”

Eren nodded. He was staring ahead. Without any Titans present to project his rage onto, he was void of sentiment. Armin laid his head on Eren’s shoulder, and Mikasa’s arm came around them both.

⁂

Despite his record for injuries—concussion in 848, multiple sprains, a broken leg, abdominal puncture in 850—he’d managed to pull through each time. The nurses said he was in peak physical condition.

There was the tattoo inscribed into Mikasa's wrist she always kept covered. Tiny nicks in Armin's fingers from repeated ODM gear maintenance, a shallow cut down his palm—the slip of a knife during kitchen duty. Bruises in the shape of their ODM harnesses.

His body remained uncalloused, difficult to bruise. He’d catch his gaze in the mirror and swear they weren’t always so grey. When he looked at his hands, his body, his mind supplied an impression of pain without proof.

Private Jaeger had the luck of the Devil, they’d said. Eren grinned and went along with it. But it wasn’t some miracle, nor an aspect of his personality he'd choose to define himself—if you’d asked him, he’d say he was no thrill-seeker, just doing whatever was required to become adept with the ODM gear. The sooner he mastered it, the faster he could get onto the front lines and start eradicating Titans.

Mikasa's explanations were too technical, but she was friends with Bertholdt and Reiner and top of the class. She could keep up with them, but she chose to handicap herself by sticking to his side. Even when he made it very clear she didn’t have to, and that he didn’t want to be responsible for her in such a way. If she wanted to join the Legion or the Garrison, she could decide for herself. Just because his mother said to keep an eye on him, he’d think, it doesn’t mean you’re indebted to me.

He’d been reliving the same nightmare ever since leaving Shiganshina. Contrary to what other cadets assumed, it was never about the day itself. His mother’s body, thrashing. She screamed for a while, until the Titan squeezed its grip and her body twisted in on itself. She couldn’t scream anymore, just twitched feebly. His imagination filled in the blanks his emotions refused to accept. There wasn’t much to see at a distance, Mister Hannes’s pace, the cobblestones.

He could go over it, in his mind, but these associations never bled into his dreams. Mikasa and Armin, and the others, they’d just assume as long as he kept his mouth shut. It was easier to explain, under the guise of Titan-loathing mania. Why wouldn’t he dream about his mother’s last moments?

The dissonance used to eat away at him, whenever he wasn’t occupied. Throwing himself into farmwork, training exercises, unarmed combat with anyone willing to scrap, getting thrown around by Leonhardt, a couple snarling matches with Kirschtein. Drinking with the other cadets didn’t stop it so much as heighten his own awareness of his lack—the weight of the key on his breast was an anchor.

⁂

The day Eren's father took him to the basement, Mikasa was running an errand with his mother. It wasn't often Eren got to spend time with his father outside of a work-related context. The basement was where he worked, and he didn’t like to be disturbed.

His father bade him to sit. "This is a perfectly safe procedure. You will enter into a state of increased relaxation and focus, but you will be in control the entire time."

Eren shrugged.

His father pulled out a syringe and rolled up his sleeve. It pricked a bit, but his father was calm throughout the whole process. Eren followed the sound of his voice. That wasn’t so bad.

“Do you feel any different?”

“No, sir.” Eren figured they should probably go back upstairs. Mikasa and his mother would be home soon. His father stared at the desk for a long time. “What was the shot for?”

His father seemed to startle. A slight shift of his shoulders. “For your health. You’re the right age for it.”

His father had no reason to lie.

That evening, Eren turned up feverish. A foul taste lingered in his mouth, like iron and salt. His mother prepared dinner, and the smell of the meat made him want to throw up. He hadn’t meant to. He tried to apologise but all he could taste was iron and salt. It was affecting his sense of smell, or wasn’t it the other way around? He was trembling and blanching, but when he tried to explain he’d just retch again.

His father kept him bedridden and insisted he have no visitors. He said it was stomach flu, but that didn’t make sense to Eren. This blood taste didn’t make sense either. His teeth were fine, no open wounds inside his mouth. He could drink water without vomiting. “Dad,” he rasped, “I think—”

“You’re exhausted,” his father said, in a polite tone he only used with patients that were being unreasonable. “You need sleep.”

That week, his father stayed home and worked in the basement. Eren would listen to the sound of passing horse carts and pedestrians. Mikasa would talk to him about her day, or lay another wet cloth on his brow.

“You’re really feverish,” she said. “I should tell Mr. Jaeger.”

Eren reached for her wrist. “It’s all right,” he said. “I'm feeling better than I was.” He smiled, even though all the muscles in his body were on fire. It didn’t seem to reassure her.

“I’ll just let him know.”

“Mikasa, just wait until he comes upstairs.”

Mikasa held his gaze. “Why?”

Eren frowned. “He doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s working.”

Mikasa was still looking at him.

His parents’ hushed voices, as though he could sleep with midday sunlight pouring through the window.

After a few days, Eren was up and walking again. The metallic aftertaste was still there, just dulled.

The door, usually locked, was open. The food Mikasa left the night before was congealed to the plate. When his father was busy, he could go hours without eating.

He was looking over at the desk, a strange and uncomfortable silence lingered.

“You should be in bed,” he began. It was a strange tone, as if he’d been caught unawares.

“Sorry, sir. Mikasa wanted to know if you were all right.”

“I’m fine. Just lost track of time.” He readjusted his glasses. “You’re feeling better, I take it?”

“Yes, sir.” Eren couldn’t help it. “Honestly, I feel well enough to go into town with Mikasa.”

“That's precisely why you need to rest,” his father said coolly. “Give it a few more days.”

Surely, his father would’ve locked the door if it were so important. If Eren was contagious, he’d have said as much from the beginning. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that Mikasa didn’t get sick. Nor did you, or mother—so I guessed it wasn’t as serious as it seemed.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” his father snapped. “Armin’s family has enough problems without worrying about his health. You were just throwing up, for God’s sake.”

Eren glanced at the food. He went to take it.

“Leave it,” his father said. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“You lied to mum about the food. It wasn’t spoiled.”

His father’s laugh was an ugly thing. A rictus grin, as he said, very quietly, “What exactly are you implying? That I’m trying to poison you and your mother?”

Mikasa was upstairs, asleep. There wasn’t anything Eren could say that would assuage this situation. Stupidly, he said, “You’re not making any sense.”

His father grabbed the plate and threw it. It would’ve hit Eren upside the head if his father’s aim hadn’t wavered. Eren flinched as it hit the wall.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped. “I said I’d take care of it, didn’t I?”

The silence was suffocating as Eren rounded up the stairs. Stalking outside, he’d gone for a lap, his skin tingling and feverish, but he didn’t feel anything close to fatigue. He could’ve done several rounds around the neighborhood, but he didn't want to alarm his mother or Mikasa by staying out too long.

He sat on the riverbank and hurled rocks across the water's surface until he felt a little less like punching something. He took off his shoes and let his feet slip into the water. Up to his ankles, he watched the water steam around his ankles. If he stayed here long enough, he could evaporate all the water in Shiganshina, but his mother would worry and it was a stupid thing to dream anyway.

“Your mother and I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

Eren bristled. "Fine. Feeling better."

His mother excused herself.

“Did you tell that to Mikasa?” Eren spat. “You scared the hell out of her.”

His father blinked. “No, son. I wasn’t angry at her, or you. I’ve been under a tremendous pressure, with work. But that’s no excuse for how I acted this morning.”

Eren set his jaw.

“I just want you to know,” his father said, “that I’m sorry.”

"OK," Eren said. "I believe you."

His father's smile didn't reach his eyes.

⁂

Staring at the underside of the bunk, Eren tasted iron and salt. His eyes were wet, but he could not place a reason.

At the far end of the barracks, Bertholdt was reciting something under his breath. Eren couldn't make out the words, but he laid still, grounding himself in the cadence until his breathing relaxed.

⁂

His first deployment was over before he had the chance to offer more than a few words of courage to his fellow trainees. Defending the Wall from an inevitable breach. Fifteen and bleeding out on the hot rooftop. The damned Titan that ripped his leg was crawling around.

He’d been shouting at Private Kirschtein, stuffing down his own emotions. Kirschtein, if he survived, would just go to Sina anyway. They’d never speak to each other, or get along out of anything other than necessity.

Anyone would be terrified. Eren shoved down his fear and let it expel as authority. He wasn’t any less afraid, just never gave himself into the luxury of that realization. His allies, half-eaten and screaming for help. The best he could do was lie there, leg serrated and pulsing hot blood onto the roof.

Tiles grinding against bare flesh of his knee as he pushed himself up on what was left. The chinos torn and saturated with blood. Bare muscle met tile but he couldn’t feel much beyond the blood pumping from the open wound.

The leg the Titan chewed off felt heavier than it should. His equilibrium was askew. A dull phantom pain shot up the leg he’d lost. He bent double, unable to accept what his sight was telling him. Bones sprouting out of torn flesh, sheathed in sinew and hemic tissue. The flesh wrapped around the newly formed appendage, raw and pink.

He stared at his naked leg, covered in blood and viscera, as if he’d shoved it inside a cow’s stomach. The skin was raw and flaky around the shape of the bite, chinos torn to match.

High pitched scream cut through the confusion. Eren forced himself to crouch unevenly. He was fortunate the Titan had only eaten away the calf. If he could line up with the building he could shoot across and vault over it.

Racing against time. His own body sluggish. He'd lost a lot of blood, running purely on adrenaline.

"You can't die," Eren shouted. "You and I still have to see what's on the other side of Wall Maria."

Armin looked down at where the leg shouldn’t’ve been. He opened his mouth to say something but the Titan’s jaws closed around Eren leaving only the impression of an anguished scream and his own pounding heart.

Falling into darkness.

Impact with liquid, submerged.

Iron and acid in the back of his throat.

Breaking the surface. Hot, rank air sucked into his burning lungs.

Thick smell of pine and cigarettes overtaken by sweeter stink of rot.

Through the haze of pain the small metal shape dug into his breast, burning an imprint into skin. He could keep himself afloat. He’d been swimming in the river by his house since he was little.

Up to his ankles, his skin steamed against the river's current.

Armin was up there.

His left arm from the elbow down had already reformed itself, the skin raw. Bone and muscle where he'd torn the new-grown flesh of his fingers.

"Do you wish to save them, Armin and Mikasa?"

Naked shin bumped against the carrion beside him. The bottom of the Titan’s stomach, or simply the mass of bodies that came before him, indistinguishable. Titans couldn’t digest what they ate, so they’d just excrete the excess and continue. He'd have to cut his way out. Without his blades, that was close to impossible.

Clawing for purchase on the nearest body in-uniform. The ODM canister snagged on one of the bodies, weighing him down. He fumbled with the belt, already corroded by acid, crumbling apart. Drawing the blade from its scabbard, he plunged it into the slick impenetrable surface above him. Up to the hilt, dragging down with all of his strength. The hilt came back, blade snapped off partway within the holster. Blades were built to slash and discard.

He drove it forwards, blind, stabbing into the same slick meat as if the situation would change. An unrecognizable scream tore from his throat. The hairs on his arms and legs stood up. A flash of light from inside himself, the skin on his regrown fingers torn where he’d clawed over so many fallen comrades.

Syringe piercing flesh.

A trembulous embrace. Tears stained the boy's cheek.

The body he called up from will alone tore apart its confines. Tall as the clocktower itself, a miasma of blood inhaled and exhumed.

The ones who stumbled around like drunken men, unable to recall themselves. Shambling around the narrow streets in search of prey. Dispatching them was simple when they didn’t have the will to fight back. More clustered in the square, encumbered by their own hunger.

Tiny figures vaulted across rooftops, shouting to each other. Significance of their words fell away from his original imperative.

"You must master this power."

⁂

He’d surely wake up to his final moments on a stretcher, all of his hopes dashed to pieces along with his comrades and missing limbs. Awash in a morphine haze.

Instead, his eyes fell to the darkened ceiling. Three stone walls, a hard mattress beneath him and fresh sheets. Manacles at either wrist. On the opposide side of the iron bars, two guards silhouetted in the torchlight. Now that Eren was looking, they weren’t much older than him.

“Hey,” he said. “Where am I? Where’s Armin?”

“Be quiet,” the first MP said, a fair-haired boy of average height. “Commander Irvin’s requested an audience with you.”

Eren froze. “Commander Irvin?” His brain finally kicked back into gear.

I was in the Titan's stomach, and then—Armin. I heard his voice.

A twinge in his shoulder.

Armin was there. Mikasa, too. They must be alive, still. "Where's Mikasa?"

“I said quiet,” the boy snapped. “You’re lucky enough to be in a cell and not in front of a firing squad, Titan.”

“Feulner,” said the MP on his right, lanky and dark-haired, “leave him alone.”

Was the mission a success? Are Armin and the others still alive? What's the last thing I remember?

Why are they so afraid of me?

"Did—did they survive? Armin and Mikasa?"

"Yeah," the soldier on the right said. "They're safe. A few others didn't make it. You'll be briefed once the tribunal is over."

Tribunal? What the hell did I do? Where's—

He couldn't move his arms. But the lack of the weight against his breast was tangible. A rising panic clenched his insides.

"The key," he blurted. "Where is it?"

Feulner looked at Freudenberg as if to say, what the hell is he talking about?

"Your personal belongings were collected after you were retrieved from the Titan's body," said Freudenberg carefully. "If you cooperate, you'll receive it and anything else that was on your person."

Eren slumped back against the bed. Bare feet planted on the stone. "You're telling me the truth?"

"Yes."

Feulner scoffed. "He's out of his mind."

"Shut up, Feulner," Freudenberg snapped. "The tribunal will decide what his fate will be." He glanced at Eren. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Eren glanced at his manacled hands. "I was in the Titan's stomach. Then—I did what had to be done, for the sake of my comrades."

Freudenberg averted his eyes first. "All right, Jaeger. I believe you."

#snk #aot #eren jaeger #boris feulner #marlowe freudenberg #armin arlert #mikasa ackermann #grisha jaeger #karla jaeger #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #fanfic #fanfiction #canon divergent #multichapter #slow burn #author's undying love for dramatic irony

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ocean-eyed-lovers · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir of the 104th, 104th Training Corps Ensemble & Eren Yeager Characters: Ymir of the 104th (Shingeki no Kyojin), Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, Reiner Braun, Bertolt Hoover, Marco Bott, Annie Leonhart, Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman, Jean Kirstein, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman, Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse Additional Tags: Ymir of the 104th Lives (Shingeki no Kyojin), Bertolt Hoover Lives, Marco Bott Lives, Everyone lives, for now tho 😈, Marco Bott is Freckled Jesus, Everyone Needs A Hug, Betrayal, Nationalism, Discrimination Against Eldians (Shingeki no Kyojin) Summary:

"Annie, take off Marco's ODM gear." "No." "Annie, you-" "I SAID NO."

During the battle of Trost, Annie makes a distressing discovery that changes the tides of the warriors' lives. Their mission on Paradis starts to feel meaningless... Fed up with Marley's lies, the Warriors decide to fight side by side with the Island Devils, to try and find new meanings to their tortuous lives.

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natsuki208 · 4 months

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My Alive!Marco AU

(This is a AU I had ever since I started watching the show back in 2020)

Back at the battle in Trost, Marco still accidentally overheard the conversation between Reiner and Bertholdt, and both of them alongside Annie still attempt in leaving him to get eaten by a titan. Reiner even stabbed Marco in the eye to prevent him from moving (being in a lot of pain).

A Titan approached and picked up the broken down Marco, chewing away half of his arm. Suddenly, a cadet flew in and sliced the titan’s nape out - the warriors had to leave the site before they could be caught. Marco fell right on the ground in soo much pain; he quite literally lost a limb. The cadet appeared to be his friend, Jean Kirstein, whom was terrified to see Marco on the brink of death, immediately carried him to find help in order to save him.

Two days passed and Jean was still waiting by Marco’s side in the infirmary, he felt like he hadn’t slept since that dreadful day, he just wanted to see Marco wake up. When Jean thought about leaving the room to get some air, he heard grunting coming from his friend, his eyes slightly watered up once he saw Marco’s one eye open and turned to face Jean beside him.

“Jean?” He softly spoke, a little raspy. “Wh-what happened? Did we save Trost?”

Jean didn’t say anything at first, he swallowed hard and wiped away his building tears.

“Yes, Marco. We did.”

The freckled boy smiled at him. It seemed good until he attempted to sit up, he noticed that one of his arms is half missing, shocked at this realisation.

“Wh-what’s happened to me?” Marco asked, both scared and confused.

“That’s what I want to know.” Jean replied. “You’re the last person I know who would nearly get eaten by a titan. What happened back there, Marco.”

Marco looked down in deep thought, he thought and thought but nothing filled in the blank.

“That’s odd…” he uttered. “I-I don’t remember.”

—————————————————————————

Don’t worry, I’ll be filling you in more with this story soon. ;)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #aot au #canon divergent au #alive au #jeanmarco #jean kirstein #marco bodt #Marco is alive and well :) sort of…

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aastarions · 1 year

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when u can feel the hyperfixation returning

#c shut up #watching aot this weekend was so fun i missed it sm :’)#i wanna just write all the canon-divergent eren fluff TT #i think smths wrong with me tho im having a delayed emotional reaction to this weekends episode

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ydrance · 1 year

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Lunar new Year and lantern festival, veery late (fic and art)

Ok I don't like doing that but I spent days on that OS, I am very proud of it, and I know my take on things is maybe a bit different than the Rivetra fandom's general take and all but I am feeling a very strong rejection sensitivity dysphoria flaring up right now, so leave a kudo if you like it please. I honestly have serious doubts about my participation in the fandom** after the flop of my previous OS and Outlander AU draft. If that one flops too... Don't feel obliged obviously but if you do read it and like it leave a kudo please. (Or if you dislike it say so. I am afraid of it flopping not of negative reactions.) So that I'll know if I keep spending time and energy on writing, or if I'm too bad and it's useless and it doesn't bring anything interesting. Now art.

Bonus another, older, lunar new Year, (not lantern festival) :

Levi has a strange face on this one I know 😅 He is impossible to draw

** I'm in a bad spot and everything seems a bit dramatic, Rivetra is a special interest, I'll still do things I think, just, if it flops, no more writings I think, and a few other ideas will be thrown away. Anyways. No pity, no obligations if you don't want to read it or don't like it it's fine. I find it good but if you read it and don't it's fine too. Really. Just if you do, and if you like it, if you can leave a kudo please...

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #rivetra art #petral ral #levi x petra #levi ackerman #aot #snk #rivetra fic #artists on tumblr #lantern festival #canon divergent au #Petra lives #after the war #traveling #imaginary China #domestic #comfort #of travels and healing

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used-for-lurking · 1 year

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“In Her Arms” — Ymir x Historia Fanfiction

Set in 854 during the Marley Arc, following the time-skip.

Ymir (104th) is still alive in this canon-divergence AU, and keeps Historia company as she fulfills her role as queen.

This is my first time ever sharing my fanfiction, so please give it a read and let me know what you think of the story.

I hope to share some Erwin x Levi fanfic soon.

#yumihisu #ymir x historia #yumikuri #femslash #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ymir #historia reiss #krista lenz #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfic #sapphic fanfic #canon lesbians #canon divergence

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ereri-lost-and-found · 2 years

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hello! first of all, i'm so thankful to this blog! it really helped me a lot finding good fics to read! kudos to everyone!

and i was wondering if you have recommendations for any fics with eren coming from outside the walls either as a titan or something else. preferably long chaptered fics.

thank you and have a great day!

Try these~

Breaking the Walls by Asnakecalledsocks

(Rated E, 5,818 words, multichapter, ongoing)

The boy woke with a start, throwing his body upwards into a sitting position as the final throws of sleep evaded him. His dreams were always the same, chopped up bits and pieces that seemed familiar, however he knew within a few minutes he would no longer remember the contents of the dream.

They were always the same.

Eren is a titan shifter living outside the walls, until one day the survey corps takes an interest in him.

(This is my first time writing so any and all constructive criticism is highly appreciated!)

I, Titan by Marie_Phantom

(Rated E, 23,349 words, multichapter, ongoing)

One single mistake, and the world changes on it’s axis.

Levi is left stranded outside the Walls when he is injured, and is rescued by an unusual Titan. This meeting changes not just their lives, but the entire fate of the Walls.

Part 1 of The Scent of Blood and Pine

A Titan's Poisoned Chalice by The_duke_is_back

(Rated M, 133,423 words, multichapter, complete, TW read tags on fic)

A Poisoned Chalice: noun, an assignment, award, or honour which is likely to prove a disadvantage or source of problems to the recipient.

Eren is a titan living outside the walls, living in complete isolation by avoiding other titans. When the Survey Corps comes and Levi is attacked by titans from left and right, he is saved by an aberrant titan. Eren’s curiosity has lead him down a path where he far out of his depth.

A story where Eren has only known his life as a titan and saves is taken into the walls and is expected to live as a human. How does a titan who knows next to nothing adjust to living a life behind the walls?

Written by CursedObjects, adopted by The_Duke_Is_Back.

Part 1 of Big Friendly Titan

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esli-art · 2 years

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What if Sasha was a Warrior? 👀

June 29th 2022

#snk #aot #shingeki no kyoujin #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin fanart #attack on titan fanart #sasha braus #sasha blouse #sasha braus fanart #sasha blouse fanart #snk fanart #aot fanart #villain #canon divergent au #esli art

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thrillobsessed900 · 10 months

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I need help finding an ereri comic

I don't remember if it was lemon or not. But the last panel was of eren and levi dying. Levi was hugging eren even after death. Levi killed himself in a forest by placing a sword through both of them. I miss this doujinshi and I would appreciate it if anyone helped me remember the title or find it. Thank you!

#ereri riren #doujinshi #canon divergent au #lost #aot fandom #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

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chopzoe · 2 years

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I still can’t believe Mike died the most gruesome death in all of attack on titan and afterwards he was never mentioned again. It was like no character ever even knew he had died.

#one of the things that fuck me up and have me clueless on how to deal with his character in tit for tat #my writing #snk #aot #mike zacharias #I DON'T WANNA KILL HIM BUT I KINDA WANT TO HAVE HEARTBREAK ITS FUCKED #there's a reason i put slight canon divergence #yeah slight lmao

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dorminchu · 4 months

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Between Heaven and Earth: Chapter One

a/n: Merry Christmas! The next couple chapters will tie in with Nur für die Schwachen (as in, certain plot points/elements from that fic are referenced). You don’t have to read one story to understand the other.

Despite a greater disparity in technology, trading electric torches for gas lamps and subjection to bean-potato stew for the majority of their meals succeeding the government's seemingly overconfident investment in pit latrines last year, the overall mood was not so different than Marley. Trost's streets were narrow, so the new influx of pedestrians coming from Wall Maria often had to compromise among the horses and soldiers moving through. No motorised vehicles to be seen, even in Wall Sina.

Grice, posing as a refugee from Wall Maria, had quietly worked his way into Wall Rose’s Northern Division as a recruit—because he’d signed up before the new decree to lower the age of conscription, he managed to join up with the Garrison the same year they became trainees. Right now, he was stationed over in southern Wall Sina. He’d send letters every visitation day, updating the three of them on life as a Paradisian soldier.

Last summer, Annie’s reconnaissance mission into the interior turned up fruitless. All she would tell Reiner and Bertholdt was that a man from the MP Brigade saw her face. Rather than apprehend her, he’d let her get away, which had dissuaded her from going undercover again. Though the MP Brigade were the only ones allowed in the interior, they did work with the MPs in Wall Sina. None of the training academies in Wall Rose would allow enlistment directly into Mitras—you had to undergo additional training from selective military schools. If you didn’t have family in the military, or the interior, there was a specialized academy in Wall Maria. Neither position was viable, so what was the point of bringing it up at all?

Grice insisted it was better to seek a position in the MPs regardless. Before Paradis was breached, the offices were flooded with applications to the Garrison, since it was easier to get into than the Military Police and had the second-lowest mortality rate. It sounded nice, coming from the mouths of recruiters, but any position was better than the Scouting Legion. An overabundance of spending on resources with little to show for it but a seventy-five percent mortality rate. Without better funding, or a significant change in leadership, no one in his right mind would enlist voluntarily.

Unfortunately, many of the MP divisions were already plagued with decades of corruption and incompetence. Losing a third of their country’s territory didn’t whip them into shape. The Garrison was spreading itself thin, trying to do its job and the job of the MPs. It had gotten so extreme that the 104th Training Corps were routinely put to work, with Garrison supervision, at the top of Wall Rose. Better to acclimatize them with defense now, than assume that a catastrophe could never happen again.

The Scouting Legion would, on occasion, assist the Garrison, whenever they were not performing routine expeditions. But their expenses and mortality rate had gone down significantly since Wall Maria's breach. Commander Irvin was interested in reforming the Legion’s reputation. Public opinion became less hostile than it had been under their previous leader, Commander Shadis. In fact, there was a lot of speculation among the military higher-ups that Shadis favoured Irvin as a recruit, and he’d stepped down for the sake of the Legion’s reputation as well as his own tenure.

…

Tragedy bound the cadets together into fickle hierarchies. Privates Kirschtein and Jaeger butting heads just for the excuse to fight about something. Private Fritz smuggling in beer in exchange for swapping chore duties with anyone gullible enough to take her up on a simple favour, with the exception of Private Lenz. Most of them had no real opinion on their King, the government within the interior or their iron grip of censorship besides a passive, unquestioning resignation to dedicate their hearts to humanity. They weren’t interested in questioning the nature of the mission to retake Wall Maria.

But in their second year, Private Arlert got into a prolonged debate with the instructor about the ethical implications of the operation. Rattling off statistics in a rapid-fire, accusatory pitch while the instructor became increasingly dismissive. It came to a head, when Arlert accused the Garrison of corroborating a lot of falsified search warrants for the sake of cutting down the amount of civilians to rehouse, and was assigned latrine duty for two weeks and told to sit down before his impudence further affected his training score. Red-faced and fuming, Arlert took his seat.

According to Bertholdt, he’d lost both his parents during the operation to retake Wall Maria. His grandfather, over the course of his own life, had fostered a collection of pre-Paradisian literature and encyclopedias, and was charged by the Garrison with spreading misinformation. Their house in Wall Rose was raided. Arlert had no choice but to work in the fields, enlisting alongside his childhood friend Eren Jaeger.

Jaeger took Arlert’s side. They sat together in the boy's barracks during free-time, going over their notes on ODM maintenance from the textbook. Other, keener kids, the likes of Bodt and Kirschtein, were willing to play devil’s advocate before lights-out, but never to Arlert’s face. Most of them would agree, amongst themselves, that Arlert had been wronged, but what was the point of sticking up for someone whose argument was so one-sided? He’d be lucky to wind up as a technical instructor if he didn't crack his head open during free-climbing, or the most rudimentary ODM gear exercises.

Braun and Hoover followed them back on the same pretense of study, and now Hoover played the diplomat. “You’ll be able to change a lot more about the military’s policies from the inside. Everyone starts as a foot soldier.”

Arlert just stared at his notes and said, in a tight voice, “Every history book is dictated by another man’s biases. There’s no choice, for most, but to roll over and let the victors decide what truth prevails.” His voice shook slightly. A white-knuckled grip on his pencil couldn’t salvage his composure. “I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

"It's not that simple," Bodt chimed in. "The instructor is upholding whatever he's told to by the government. It doesn't matter what he thinks."

Arlert snapped, "What has blindly adhering to theocracy done for humanity? For any civilization, for that matter?"

"The Wallists don't bother anyone," Kirschtein said. "They just give people something to focus on besides arguing with each other. The rest of us get on, like usual."

Arlert glowered at his notebook.

Reiner looked at Bertholdt, a silent exchange that went unnoticed by the other boys. That kind of talk would get you sent to Heaven. Reiner never got to play mentor to anyone back home. He was too busy looking after himself, and scrapping with Galliard while Bertholdt kept him from straying. During their mandatory hikes, Reiner would always lag behind to make sure Arlert didn’t faint, burdened with a pack that weighed about as much as himself. These Paradisians were eager to learn from him and Hoover as much as possible. They’d sit with them during meals and before lights-out, and talk about their insignificant lives the same way Galliard and Finger used to. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start reaching back, for the sake of keeping the enemy close.

“The only way you or I can make a difference, for humanity,” Reiner said, “is to become an exemplary soldier. No single one of us can change an unfair decree, but that’s always been the nature of the world. What you and I can do, is work to become someone your friends would be willing to put their lives on the line for.”

Arlert shrugged. “The instructor couldn’t disprove what I said, so he made an example of me. Once I graduate I’ll probably never see his face again.” He averted his eyes to his notes. “I can’t argue with you. I just—shouldn’t get so worked up about it. That won't undo what's been done.”

“You shouldn't be hard on yourself, Armin,” Jaeger said. “You stuck to what you believed. That’s more important.”

Arlert’s mouth lifted into a wan smile.

…

Most of the 104th wouldn't make it past graduation. The ones smart enough to secure a position in the Military Police or Garrison would go underutilized, but Paradis wouldn’t really be any worse or better for it. Titans and Eldians would coexist, and the world's only mercy was its indifference.

In Marley each soldier was out for himself. Overt sympathies were discouraged. In Paradis, Bertholdt and Reiner became model soldiers who climbed all the way to third and second best of the class in three years, succeeded only by Private Ackermann. Training scores were determined by ODM exercises—so she could rely on her “kill” count and technique to get ahead. She wasn’t very talkative, but gracious, interested in learning from others regardless of their skill level.

She’d make a great captain someday, Hoover said. She’d go further if she wasn’t held back by her loyalties to Jaeger and Arlert. It was Jaeger that took to Reiner with an avid need for a mentor figure who wouldn’t treat him with kid gloves. For how often he talked of indifferent humans and cattle, he’d never once considered that the Walls and Titans beyond were meant for keeping things in. Typical, straightforward thinking with no regard for the long-term or bigger picture; the perfect candidate for the Scouting Legion, or a half-decent farmer, if only he put his mind to it. Domesticity was never in the cards, nor the peacetime that the 104th Training Corps might not live to see, only strive towards.

Private Leonhardt was skilled on paper, but when they had to lead an expedition without the instructors, Private Springer elected to follow Kirschtein instead. Private Blaus was happy to work with her during chores, but when it came to ODM gear exercises, they had a tendency to get in each other’s way. Private Kirschtein insinuated she thought herself too good for everyone else—so Leonhardt reminded him that the only difference between them was his desperation to prove himself the better candidate. If he wanted any pointers, he was free to ask Ackermann about it, because he’d clearly confused the two of them.

While her loner mentality made her unpopular, it was easier for Braun and Hoover to get to know the others, and for Leonhardt to stick to the mission.

Now, Private Jaeger had more of a death wish than any other cadet in the division. Everyone had heard about the scrappy, angry from Shiganshina. Ackermann and Arlert were always close behind, probably to make sure he didn’t wind up scraped off of a tree. He was too stubborn to live a long and happy life inside the Walls. An unexceptional student, save for his uncrushable tenacity and loyalty to the Scouting Legion.

In another life, he’d have made a decent Warrior. Leonhardt didn’t speak more than a sentence to him until their second year.

The majority of their budget went towards ODM equipment, food and space for the cadets as well as horses. When it came to self-defense, the instructors went over the fundamentals out of principle. These techniques might buy you a few seconds. Your average criminal could just as well drive the sharp end of a whisky bottle into the newly-made private’s stomach, and that would be that.

Most cadets did not go out of their way to train with her. Hoover was too leery of drawing blood and finding an excuse to hide the steam. Braun was always needling, had to be superior, and would rather spend his time with other cadets looking for a mentor. Arlert, her recent partner, kept freezing up in the middle of a feint. He'd flinch a little, when she snapped at him not to stand there and await her instructions—he’d been in fights before, but only ever internalized the desperation to stop the beating. It felt wrong to hit someone who wouldn’t fight back, even though Marleyans weren’t supposed to be merciful to the enemy. Her father wouldn’t hesitate to rap her on the shins for going soft. There was no discrimination on the battlefield, but she tripped him and let him fall flat on his ass and said, “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you won’t defend yourself.”

Arlert got to his feet. He took a shaky breath and said, “These exercises don’t really count for points. And it’s more likely we’ll be using guns or blades for self-defense against a Titan.” His eyes followed her boots, probably calculating her stance. “That doesn’t make it a useless skill, of course. But you and I are on different levels of proficiency.” Even as he said it, he tensed up again.

Leonhardt dropped her guard. “Find someone else to practice with.”

Arlert didn't think twice. She figured she may as well cut out and review her notes on ODM gear, for the hell of it. Anything was better than baking in the sun.

As she moved for the barracks, she noted Braun was partnered up with Jaeger. Better for Braun's ego and Jaeger's temperment.

“Hey, Leonhardt!” Braun called out. She stopped pace. “You can’t keep slacking off like this. Shadis'll”

Braun the soldier was a paradigm, quick to tease Leonhardt for her lack of discipline. He wouldn't let up, even when she flipped him on his ass to drive the point home. Titan or not, she could never harm him in a way that mattered. There wasn't any point expending time on him as a Warrior cadet. Why start now?

Because sucking up to the first cadet who asks for help is not going to make you into a better Warrior than I am. This exercise isn’t for points. You shouldn’t be drawing attention to me in the first place, you hypocrite.

She caught Jaeger’s eye.

Are you watching? Here’s a lesson on what not to do.

Braun, back on his feet, threw Jaeger the wooden knife and said, "Looks like you have a new teacher!" He caught her eye and winked. Just her luck.

Scowling, she made eye-contact with Jaeger and threw him the knife. “Your turn.”

Jaeger caught the knife. In the time it took for him to open his mouth and say, “What?” she’d already closed the distance. Disarmed and grounded. Easier than a dummy. His mouth split into a toothy grin. "That was amazing!" Clambering to his feet, dusting himself off, he said, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"My father." She did not add it was a pretty basic technique. “Does it matter? It’s not what you’re supposed to be learning.”

He stared at her, eyes shining with fervor. “Let me try again. Disarm me.”

The only time she got to scrap without holding back was with Braun or Porco Galliard. In Marley the instructors were pushing a bayonet into her hands. In Paradis, a wooden knife, or a faux-rifle. Turned onto the front-lines, the Warrior cadets fought to kill, not disarm. She shouldn’t be going easy on the enemy.

The third time Jaeger wound up on his ass, she offered a hand. “You almost had it.”

“Really?” Jaeger reached out to take it; she withdrew and caught him in the stomach with her boot. He got back to his feet, staggering, a tic in his jaw. “What the hell—was that for?”

“You left yourself open.” Resuming stance, unfazed. “I bet you’ve never won a fight in your life.”

A few cadets stopped to watch. Each time she flipped Jaeger over there were cheers. Nothing like back home, always perfunctory and cold. It ended once Shadis barked at them to disperse and get back to what they were supposed to be doing. Leonhardt ended up doing laps.

Jaeger spat into the dirt and said, “I can’t keep up with you.”

“You’re right.” She walked in the direction of the mess hall. Jaeger followed at her heels.

“You could teach me,” he said, “how to fight.”

“Why should I?”

“’Cos I want to learn.” He made a face like she was being obtuse on purpose. “I’ve been in a lot of fights, and I’ve never seen anyone move like that.”

“Hm,” said Annie. “You’re not going to cry when you lose?”

“I won’t if you won’t,” he said, the light coming back into his eyes. He bumped her shoulder with his. “Next time, we’re partners. Don’t forget!”

…

Sparring became more of an excuse to give Jaeger a taste of the dirt, her boot, in no particular order. Most cadets would be too nervous or call out her refusal to parrot the techniques the instructor demonstrated—she didn’t need fundamentals to disarm an opponent—but not Jaeger. The light in his eyes was the same as the first time she agreed to teach him.

He still couldn’t disarm her, but he was blocking hits that would have knocked him down before. He couldn’t replicate her kicks, so he fought with his fists. He’d lost everything in that breach, and all that was left was his rage, tempering into discipline.

Jaeger ended up sitting with her during meals whenever Hoover and Braun were too busy blending in with the native Paradisians. She was never that close with them anyway. And unlike them, he would never expect her active participation unless he spoke to her first. Maybe growing up with Ackermann, he was used to sharing comfortable silences. He wasn’t even bad company. Just exuberant to the point of bordering on insufferable, especially during stretches on horseback or hiking.

While the Legion's reputation still left much to be desired, Jaeger clung to his idealism anyway. Leonhardt wasn't going to argue with a brick wall, but she could tune him out and he’d take the hint, unlike Kirschtein—who wasn’t a hypocrite, just arrogant and didn’t know how to pick his battles. Well, he’d learn the harm way, come deployment, that all the ideas in the world meant little once you’d lost most of your men to a mindless Titan.

“Mina says you want to be an MP,” he said. “What for?”

“Why do you want to join the Scouting Legion?”

Jaeger paused. “’Cos we let those goddam animals exist on the other side of the Walls. Just like any wild animal, they found a way to get in. The Garrison and MPs have been too busy sitting on their asses, while the Scouts do all the thankless work they get to take credit for.” His scowl deepened. “All the top recruits go to Wall Sina. The death rate in the Legion scares them off, but it’s a lie. That rate was from the last Commander. The recruitment officers are just using it to bring more people into the Garrison. Now there’s an overflow of soldiers that’d be better off elsewhere.”

Leonhardt smiled. “Imagine what humanity would do to itself, if those highly-skilled soldiers weren’t around to keep everyone in line.”

Jaeger shook his head. “The MPs haven’t made a difference in crime. It was like that in Shiganshina, too.” He frowned. “You never answered my question.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind about people who choose to be MPs.”

Jaeger blinked. “I didn’t—mean it like that.” He turned away. “It’s not just about playing soldier.”

“You’re such an obedient patriot.” Jaeger barked out a laugh. “Why do you partner up with me?” she asked, to change the subject. “If you keep following me around, people might get the wrong idea.”

Jaeger scoffed. “What idea? I just have to keep going over the moves until they stick. That’s all this is.” Despite his reckless nature, he didn’t have a lot of bruises. No scars, at least, which was a surprise. She was proficient enough not to draw blood unless it was necessary. Jaeger’s ears flushed. She’d been staring at him longer than she meant to. He looked away first. “The other guys don't get why I like training with you.” He stabbed at the congealed mass of bean-and-potato mush that should’ve resembled stew, but more closely resembled a lump of brain matter soaked in gravy. “You take this seriously when you try. And I don’t think you’re a bad soldier, even if you hate all the bullshit.”

Leonhardt’s mouth thinned. She wasn’t hungry anymore. “Thanks.”

He was looking at her knuckles. “Your hands look pretty good.”

What the hell?

He took her hand in his, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I mean, you don’t have a scratch on you. I usually cut my palm on the wire when I reach for my blades.”

His hands were faultless. She pulled away, a little tense. “That’s because you’re impatient.”

“Yeah, well—I’m getting better, now that Reiner’s giving me some tips. Mikasa doesn’t worry as much.”

Suppressing one’s regenerative abilities took discipline far beyond his capabilities. The only other way was to regrow the limb itself, which took a lot of excess energy. Newer Warriors tended to have a lot of trouble shifting while they were injured. He’d never so much as staunched a wound in her presence.

“Where’d your father serve?” she asked, as if Eren cracked-my-skull-on-the-first-day-of-learning-the-ODM-harness Jaeger could be anything but human.

Jaeger rolled his shoulders. “He didn’t. He was a doctor.” He continued to eat in stolid silence, then paused. “Haven’t heard from him since the breach. He hardly sent letters while we lived in Shiganshina, so he’s probably busy.” His jaw tensed. “Your dad must’ve cared a lot, to teach you what he has.”

Annie regarded her own stale loaf of bread. “In his own way.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #annie leonhardt #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #mina carolina #canon divergent #slow burn #ao3 #ffnet #eren jaeger

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