Miina🐉

She wont say “I love you” often but she shows it constantly

Annie isn't good with words. Even after several months of dating, you might hear more "Take care" than genuine declarations of love.

Yet, she'll immediately notice if you haven't slept well.

She'll know when you've skipped a meal.

She'll remember your favorite coffee.

She'll remember details you've even forgotten about yourself.

For Annie, loving someone is about observing.

And Annie observes you a lot.

She secretly loves cuddles.

No one would believe her.

Even her friends would be shocked.

But when she's alone with her partner, Annie becomes surprisingly tactile.

Not excessively.

Just subtly.

A hand searching for yours under the table.

Her head on your shoulder during a movie.

Her arms around your waist when she's tired.

And most of all…

She loves sleeping next to you.

She'll never admit it.

Never.

She's very protective.

Not in the immediate possessive sense.

More in the sense that she hates to see you suffer.

If someone disrespects you, Annie will notice it before you do.

And even if she doesn't say anything at the time…

That person has probably just made an enemy.

Forever.

She gets strangely jealous.

The problem with Annie is that she refuses to admit she's jealous.

Even when she clearly is.

You might find her staring at a boy/girl who's been talking to you for twenty minutes.

Then when you ask her what's wrong:

— "Nothing."

Even though she clearly wants to throw that person out the window.

She enjoys listening to her partner talk.

This is probably one of her favorite things.

She could listen to you talk about your day for hours.

Your problems.

Your passions.

Your absurd theories at three in the morning.

She'll pretend she's not interested.

But she'll remember absolutely everything.

She becomes softer when she's tired.

It's a well-kept secret.

Usually, Annie is sarcastic and a bit cold.

But when she's exhausted…

Her filter disappears.

She seeks out more contact.

Speaks more softly.

And even becomes slightly clingy.

The kind of moment very few people get to witness.

She loves it when her partner wears her clothes.

Even if she pretends to find it annoying.

Deep down, seeing her way-too-big sweatshirt on you makes her want to smile.

She won't say anything.

But she'll look at you much longer than necessary.

Argument with her are rare but serious

Annie doesn't like to shout.

She prefers to isolate herself when she's hurt.

The problem is that when she keeps everything bottled up for too long, her emotions eventually explode.

And when Annie explodes…

It's often because she cares deeply for the person involved.

She falls in love slowly.

Very slowly.

But once it happens…

It's almost impossible to go back.

Annie is the kind of person who loves deeply.

Silently.

Fiercely.

With an almost frightening loyalty.

Annie Leonhart had never really believed in love at first sight. She thought the whole concept was ridiculous.

People didn’t fall in love at first glance. They simply idealized strangers and assigned them every imaginable quality. It was stupid. Irrational.

And yet, when she met Armin Arlert for the first time, something immediately caught her attention.

It wasn’t his appearance. Nor his popularity. Not even his intelligence, which she only discovered later.

It was the way he carried himself.

On a campus full of loud students who constantly seemed desperate to draw attention to themselves, Armin was calm. Observant. Thoughtful.

While everyone else talked, he listened.

While everyone else tried to stand out, he preferred to stay in the background.

And Annie gradually found herself noticing him everywhere.

In the library.

In the cafeteria.

In lecture halls.

Then in the hallways.

Then in her thoughts.

At first, she told herself it was nothing. Just curiosity. But the weeks passed, and that curiosity grew until it became a genuine obsession. She learned his schedule without even realizing it. She knew which cafés he visited after class and which books he regularly borrowed from the university library.

Fortunately, Armin seemed to enjoy her company as well. They started talking. Then studying together. Then spending time alone.

Annie felt like everything was going perfectly.

Until you arrived.

The first time she saw you, you literally barged into a conversation she had been trying to have with Armin for nearly an hour.

You appeared with your bright smile and boundless energy, as if the entire universe revolved around you.

And without even realizing it, you completely ruined her plans.

The following weeks only made things worse.

Every time Annie finally managed to get a moment alone with Armin, you showed up. Sometimes to ask for help with a project. Sometimes to tell an absurd story. Sometimes for no particular reason at all.

You were everywhere.

Like a curse.

Or a natural phenomenon that simply couldn’t be stopped.

The most frustrating part was that nobody seemed to find it strange.

Armin liked you immediately. So did the other students.

Even Annie, despite all her efforts, struggled to truly hate you. Because you were annoying.

But genuinely annoying.

The kind of person incapable of pretending.

The kind of person who laughed too loudly, talked too fast, and seemed physically incapable of leaving people alone.

You were exhausting.

And yet…

Whenever a day passed without you appearing somewhere, Annie noticed immediately.

One afternoon, while all of you were sitting on the grass near the faculty building, you decided to target one of her least favorite subjects.

Her height.

You were sprawled across the lawn when your gaze slowly traveled up toward her. Then toward Armin. Then back to her again. An amused smile spread across your face.

— “Annie, are you sure you’re older than us?” you asked playfully.

She looked up from her phone.

— “Why?” she asked with an eyebrow raised.

— “Because it looks like you stopped growing in elementary school.”

The others burst out laughing.

Annie shot you a murderous glare.

You continued anyway.

— “Seriously, Armin’s taller than you. That’s kind of tragic.”

— “Not by much,” she shot back.

You raised an eyebrow.

— “Annie,” you said teasingly.

Then you adopted a dramatic expression.

— “I’m sure there are vitamins for that.”

Even Armin was laughing now.

And against all logic…

Annie felt her cheeks warm.

Not because of the joke.

Because of your smile.

Because you were looking at her in a way nobody ever had before.

As if her height was something adorable instead of a flaw.

As if she could be imperfect around you.

And it wouldn’t matter.

That thought unsettled her far more than she would ever admit.

From that day onward, something changed.

Every time you appeared, Annie found herself smiling internally.

Every time you left, she felt a strange disappointment.

Her conversations with Armin continued.

But now, she mostly looked forward to yours.

She began noticing the details.

The way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about something you were passionate about.

The way you occasionally fell asleep in the library after studying too late.

The way you always gave her the first smile whenever you arrived somewhere together.

And one day…

Annie realized she barely thought about Armin anymore.

The truth was brutal.

Almost humiliating.

For months, she had believed she was in love with him.

Yet whenever she imagined her future…

It was your face she saw now.

Not his.

So she decided to let it go.

Quietly.

Without drama.

Without conflict.

She simply distanced herself from Armin and stopped chasing something she no longer truly wanted.

And for a few days…

She felt incredibly light.

Free.

Happy, even.

Because she finally believed she understood what she was feeling.

Then you started disappearing.

Not physically.

You were still there.

But suddenly, you seemed less interested in her.

The conversations grew shorter.

The interruptions stopped.

You no longer sought out her company.

You no longer came to sit beside her.

At first, Annie thought she was imagining things.

Then the weeks passed.

And your absence became impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while…

She was afraid.

It was an irrational fear.

Almost suffocating.

Like something was slipping through her fingers.

So one evening, unable to tolerate the feeling any longer, she decided to find you.

The campus was enormous.

But Annie searched all of it.

She checked the library.

The cafeteria.

The classrooms.

The dormitories.

Every place she was used to seeing you.

Every empty location only increased her anxiety.

Then she found you.

Behind the main building.

Hidden from view.

And for a second…

Her brain refused to understand what it was seeing.

You were there.

Standing in front of Armin.

Your hands in his.

And you were kissing him.

The world seemed to stop.

Everything became silent.

Then the memories returned.

The interruptions.

The conversations.

The coincidences.

The moments when you always appeared whenever she tried to get closer to Armin.

And suddenly…

Everything made sense.

You hadn’t been trying to get her attention.

You had been trying to steal his.

You had loved Armin from the very beginning.

And she…

She had simply been an obstacle.

Annie stood frozen.

Unable to move.

Unable to breathe.

For months, she had believed something was growing between the two of you.

When in reality…

It had never existed at all.

When she finally left, something inside her had permanently broken.

In the days that followed, she kept seeing you around campus.

Seeing you laugh with Armin.

Seeing you smile.

And every single time, the feeling returned.

Stronger.

More painful.

More obsessive.

Because she no longer thought about Armin.

Not at all.

He had vanished from her mind as though he had never mattered.

Only you remained.

You, who had distracted her.

You, who had fascinated her.

You, who had taken up all the space.

You, who now belonged to someone else.

And that was precisely what Annie could no longer accept.

Because love can sometimes fade.

Obsession simply finds a new target.

And when Annie Leonhart finally lifted her eyes toward you from the other side of campus, she understood one thing with terrifying certainty.

She had stopped being obsessed with Armin a long time ago.

The real problem…

For as long as you could remember, excellence had always been a part of your daily life. It wasn't even something you actively sought anymore; it had simply become the norm.

In elementary school, teachers already held you up as an example to the other students.

In middle school, your name consistently appeared at the top of the class lists, and you were the one entrusted with important responsibilities.

Then came high school, and with it, a reputation that eventually spread far beyond the school walls.

You were that student whose name everyone knew. The top student who got the best grades without ever seeming to lose her composure. The student representative who attended administrative meetings alongside the teachers. The smiling young woman who welcomed new students, organized school events, and participated in an absurd number of extracurricular activities.

The teachers adored you, parents looked up to you as a role model for their children, and even the most popular students were on good terms with you. Behind this almost perfect image, however, lay years of hard work.

While many of your classmates spent their evenings going out or partying, you studied late into the night, surrounded by flashcards, textbooks, and cups of cold coffee. You lost count of the weekends sacrificed, the nights shortened, and the vacations spent preparing for the entrance exams to the best universities in the country.

So when the admission results were finally published in the spring of your senior year of high school, no one was truly surprised to see your name among the first admitted to the most prestigious university in the country. Not you, to be honest. Yet, when you opened the official email that morning and the words "Congratulations on your admission" appeared on your screen, something tightened in your chest.

For the first time in a long time, all that hard work had a tangible reward. The following weeks flew by in a whirlwind of congratulations, ceremonies, and speeches. Professors came to shake your hand, younger students asked for advice, and even the headmaster insisted on taking several photos with you at graduation. Everyone seemed convinced that your future was bright.

And as summer gently drew to a close, you left your old life with the strange feeling of closing an entire chapter of your existence. A new city now awaited you. A new university. A new student residence. And even though you didn't know it yet, behind the door of your future room was a certain blue-eyed blonde who would change far more than just your everyday university life.

While the university was known for its academic excellence, it also boasted a particularly vibrant student life. Between the clubs, sports teams, galas, and events organized on campus, there was always something going on. But of all the activities offered to students, none attracted as much attention as the concerts organized by the university's most popular band.

Everyone knew their name. Even before you arrived on campus, you'd already heard of them.

The band had formed a few years earlier and had gradually gained popularity, first within the university and then on social media. Initially, it was just a few music-loving students who played at campus events. Then their covers started circulating online, their original compositions found their audience, and somehow, they became one of the university's greatest sources of pride.

The central figure of the band was undoubtedly Ymir. On stage, she seemed born to command attention. Where some people had to work at their stage presence, Ymir possessed it naturally. She sang with an almost insolent confidence, joked with the audience between songs, and could make an entire room laugh in seconds. The students adored her. The professors knew her. Even people who didn't listen to their music knew who she was.

Yet, despite all this popularity, many people ended up talking about another member of the band: Annie Leonhart.

If Ymir was the sun around which the band revolved, Annie was more like the moon. She was discreet, quiet, and above all, difficult to approach. And yet, impossible to ignore.

While Ymir naturally commanded attention, Annie seemed to do the exact opposite. During interviews conducted by the student newspaper, she rarely answered more than necessary. During concerts, she often remained slightly withdrawn, sitting on an amplifier or standing near the back of the stage, her guitar in her hands. She almost never spoke to the audience.

But strangely enough… that was precisely what fascinated people.

The students spent their time speculating about her. Some claimed she was incredibly cold. Others maintained she was simply shy. A few even claimed she secretly hated being famous.

Whatever the truth, Annie attracted attention wherever she went. Her style probably had a lot to do with it.

Unlike most students who followed current trends, Annie seemed to wear exactly what she liked without worrying about what others thought. Oversized black sweatshirts that concealed her figure, worn leather jackets, silver rings on almost every finger, and light but carefully applied makeup around her blue eyes. Her blonde hair was usually tied back in a messy bun that made it look like she'd just rolled out of bed.

And yet… she was stunning. In an almost annoying way. The kind of beauty that seemed to require no effort.

Alongside him, the other members of the band perfectly complemented this strange dynamic. Historia regularly helped organize events and sometimes appeared on stage for a few acoustic songs. Reiner and Bertholdt often participated in the logistics of the concerts, transporting equipment or helping out during rehearsals. They had all been part of the same circle of friends for years, to the point that they had become something of a minor celebrity on campus.

Younger students admired them. Newcomers dreamed of joining their group of friends. And rumors about their romantic relationships spread almost as fast as their songs.

At first, you observed all of this from afar. You knew their faces like everyone else. You had already heard their songs in the halls of the residence hall.

You had even overheard several female students discussing for hours the color of Annie's eyes or Ymir's latest social media post.

But you never imagined that a few weeks later, you would not only meet Annie Leonhart…

But that you would also share a room with her.

Your arrival at university had been exactly as you'd imagined. The immense buildings, the perfectly manicured lawns, the students already rushing from one lecture hall to another despite the fact that the academic year hadn't officially started yet… Everything exuded excellence. That was precisely why you'd worked so hard all these years. Crossing campus with your suitcases, you felt that quiet satisfaction that accompanies goals finally achieved. You had succeeded. You had entered the best university in the country, and for the first time in a long time, your future seemed almost tangible.

The only unknown in this new life was your roommate.

The university had provided only a single name in the room assignment email: Annie Leonhart.

At first, the name hadn't particularly stood out. Then a quick search on social media revealed that she was the guitarist in the student band everyone seemed to be talking about. You'd seen a few photos, some concert videos, and several posts by students on campus. Enough to understand that Annie Leonhart was one of those naturally popular people, the kind who attract attention without even trying.

Even so, you hadn't really given this information much thought until you found yourself standing in front of your dorm room door.

The nameplate clearly showed number 312.

You adjusted your bag strap over your shoulder before pushing open the door.

The inside was quite different from what you'd expected.

The room was spacious, divided into two distinct areas. Your side was still empty, perfectly tidy and impersonal. Your roommate's side, on the other hand, looked like it had been lived in for months. Band posters covered part of the walls, a guitar leaned against an amplifier, and several stacks of books occupied the shelves near her bed. A soft red glow from a string of lights gave the room a warm atmosphere you would never have associated with Annie's cold reputation.

Then your gaze fell on her.

She was sitting on her bed, an open book in her hands. Her blond hair was tied back in a slightly messy bun, and an enormous black sweatshirt seemed to almost engulf her. For a few seconds, she didn't even notice you arrive. It wasn't until she turned a page that she finally looked up at you.

And immediately, you understood why so many people were talking about her.

It wasn't just because she was beautiful.

Of course, she was.

Stunningly so.

But what was most striking was her gaze. Annie had this strange way of observing people that made it seem as if she noticed far more than she let on.

Her blue eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before she gently closed her book.

— "You must be my roommate," she said.

Her voice was calm, slightly deep, much softer than you'd imagined after hearing some of the rumors about her.

You nodded.

— "Yes. My name is [Y/N]," you replied.

— "Annie," she said simply.

As if you didn't already know.

The thought almost made you smile.

For the next few minutes, you began tidying up your things as a comfortable silence gradually settled between you. Contrary to what you had feared, this silence wasn't awkward at all. Annie simply seemed to be the kind of person who didn't feel the need to talk constantly.

You were placing several novels on your shelf when a voice caught your attention.

— "Have you read this one?"

Turning around, you saw Annie holding one of your books. She was studying the cover with unexpected interest.

— "Three times," you replied nervously.

A slight raised eyebrow appeared on her face.

— "Seriously?" she exclaimed. "I love this book. The ending is the best part."

You stared at her for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

— "That's exactly what I tell everyone!" "You replied cheerfully.

For the first time since you arrived, you caught a glimpse of something resembling a smile at the corner of her lips.

It wasn't a big, bright smile.

Just a small, subtle curve.

But strangely, it seemed more genuine than most of the smiles you saw every day.

From then on, the conversation flowed surprisingly easily. You talked about literature, then music, then the courses you'd be taking this year. You quickly discovered that Annie was much smarter than the campus rumors suggested. She had opinions on everything, analyzed things with surprising precision, and possessed a dry wit that made you laugh despite yourself.

When evening came and you both finally went to bed, you found yourself staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

Your first day at university had barely begun.

Yet, you already had the strange feeling that this encounter was going to change much more than you anticipated.

And a few meters away from you, hidden under her much too big sweatshirt, Annie Leonhart was also staring at the ceiling of her room, thinking about her new roommate, unable to understand why she had spent the whole afternoon waiting for each of your answers with such interest.

The next morning, you woke up well before your alarm. An old habit.

Even without classes, even during the holidays, your body seemed incapable of accepting the idea of ​​sleeping in. When you opened your eyes, the room was still shrouded in semi-darkness. On the other side of the room, Annie was fast asleep, bundled up in her enormous black sweatshirt as if she had simply collapsed onto her bed the night before.

You watched her for a few seconds. Then you immediately snapped out of it. You had only known this girl for a few hours. And yet, your gaze already seemed to return to her far more often than it should have.

After grabbing your things, you quietly left the room so as not to wake her.

Your first university lecture was being held in one of the largest lecture halls on campus.

When you entered, several hundred students were already seated. Some were chatting enthusiastically, others seemed as lost as you. Despite all the welcoming ceremonies and motivational speeches the day before, you felt a slight knot in your stomach.

You had always been the best. But here? Everyone had been the best somewhere.

For the first time in a long time, you were going to have to prove yourself in an environment where everyone was used to excelling.

You chose a seat near the middle of the amphitheater and started to unpack your things when someone sat down heavily next to you.

— “Are you new?” a male voice asked.

You turned your head and were immediately met with a smile far too energetic for eight in the morning.

— “Is it that obvious?” you asked nervously.

— “A little.” The young man burst out laughing before extending his hand. “Eren Jaeger.”

You shook his hand.

— “[Y/N],” you introduced yourself.

— “Ah!” He immediately pointed at you. “Are you the girl with the best application in your class?”

You blinked.

— “How do you know that?” you asked, surprised.

— “Because everyone’s been talking about it for a week,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your face immediately fell.

— “Seriously?” “You asked anxiously.

— “Seriously,” he replied without hesitation.

And from his amused smile, you understood that he found your reaction extremely funny.

The conversation continued naturally for the entire time before the professor arrived. Unlike you, Eren seemed incapable of remaining silent for more than thirty seconds. He told you about the campus, the different student clubs, the professors to avoid, and even the best places to eat between classes.

By the end of the morning, you felt like you had known him for months.

Which was strange. Because Eren was your exact opposite. Where you thought before you acted, he charged headfirst into things.

Where you planned everything, he improvised.

Where you tried to avoid problems, he seemed to attract them naturally.

And yet, you already liked him a lot.

After the last class, he joined you in the hallway.

— "Do you have any plans this afternoon?"

— "Not really," you shrugged.

— "Perfect," he said enthusiastically. His smile widened immediately. "You're coming with us."

— "With whom?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

— "My friends," he said simply.

You hesitated for a few seconds. Then you agreed. After all... that was also why you came to university. To meet new people.

So you followed Eren through several buildings on campus.

Along the way, he greeted an impressive number of students. Some seemed to be his friends, others just acquaintances. The further you walked, the more you realized that Eren was probably one of those people who knew absolutely everyone.

Finally, he stopped in front of a room whose door was slightly ajar. Music drifted from inside.

A guitar.

Drums.

A voice.

Eren pushed open the door without hesitation.

— "Hey everyone!"

The music stopped immediately.

And when you followed him in… you froze. Because you instantly recognized everyone there.

Ymir was in the center of the room, a microphone in her hand. Historia was sitting on a sofa against the wall. Reiner was helping Bertholdt move some equipment near the makeshift stage.

And most importantly… sitting on an amplifier with a guitar on her lap. Annie.

For a second, her gaze met yours. And you had the distinct impression that she was just as surprised as you were.

— “Wait a minute,” Eren said, frowning. He looked back and forth between Annie and you. “Do you two already know each other?”

A silence fell. Before Annie answered first.

— “She’s my roommate.”

Eren’s face lit up immediately.

— “Seriously?!” He burst out laughing. “But that’s awesome!”

Ymir rolled her eyes.

— “Of course the top student ends up in the same room as Annie,” she sighed.

— “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Historia asked.

— “Because Annie can’t talk to strangers normally,” Ymir replied.

— “Shut up,” Annie retorted.

This time, you saw Annie throw a guitar pick at Ymir. And unexpectedly… the whole room burst into laughter.

It was at that precise moment that you understood something. The group the whole campus was talking about. The popular musicians. The students everyone admired. Were, in the end, just a group of friends. A noisy, chaotic, and sometimes ridiculous group of friends.

And as everyone gradually resumed their conversations around you, your gaze returned to Annie.

She had already picked up her guitar again. But despite her eyes being fixed on the strings… you noticed she kept glancing in your direction. As if she were strangely pleased to see you there.

Even though she would probably never admit it.

The following weeks passed with an almost unnerving speed. At first, you thought you had simply met a few nice people thanks to Eren. Yet, without really realizing it, you gradually became part of their daily lives. It had all started with the band rehearsals you sometimes attended after school.

Then came the meals shared together in the cafeteria, the evenings spent studying in the common rooms of the dorms, the impromptu outings in town when everyone needed to unwind after a particularly busy week. What surprised you most was how easily you had been accepted among them.

Throughout your life, relationships had often begun with a certain admiration from others. You were top of the class, the model student, the one the teachers were always talking about. But with them, none of that seemed to matter.

Reiner still thought of you as his adopted little sister and always made sure you ate enough during long study sessions. Bertholdt listened to you talk about your classes for hours with almost touching attention. Historia regularly invited you to her room to chat or just spend time together. Even Ymir, who seemed to make fun of everyone, had ended up developing a certain affection for you, expressed mainly through sarcastic jokes and teasing remarks.

As for Eren, he continued to drag you everywhere with him as if he had personally decided that integrating you into the group was now his official mission.

Very quickly, you stopped feeling like a guest. You were part of the group. Naturally. As if you'd always been there. Whenever someone organized something, your name was automatically on the list of invitees. When a table was reserved in the cafeteria, a seat always seemed to be waiting for you.

This feeling was new to you. For years, you had devoted so much energy to building your academic future that you had never really had the chance to experience this kind of friendship. You were discovering, with a certain surprise, the simple pleasure of receiving a message in the middle of the night for a nonsensical conversation, or of laughing until your stomach ached for hours for reasons that would have made no sense to an outsider.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were experiencing something other than grades, exams, and responsibilities.

Amidst all of this, you were also observing the relationship between Annie and Armin. Unlike many student couples who constantly felt the need to display their affection, they were almost disconcertingly discreet. An outsider might not even have known they were together. There were no grand declarations, no particularly demonstrative gestures, and no romantic scenes worthy of a movie.

Yet, their closeness was obvious once you learned to observe them.

Armin almost always sat next to Annie when the group met up somewhere. Annie unconsciously reserved a seat for him when she arrived before everyone else. They regularly shared headphones, exchanged book recommendations, and seemed capable of discussing topics for hours that no one else truly understood.

At first glance, they appeared to be a stable, mature, and remarkably compatible couple. Many people in their circle even considered them one of the most solid couples at the university.

Yet, as time went on, you noticed certain things. They were subtle, almost invisible, but they were there.

Annie seemed to like Armin. Genuinely. She trusted him, respected him, and valued his opinion far more than most people did.

But when you looked at the other couples around you, you sometimes felt something was missing between them. A spark. A kind of excitement. Something beyond simple affection. Annie rarely laughed when she was alone with Armin. She seemed calm, serene, but never truly enthusiastic. As if their relationship was based more on comfortable habit than real passion.

Armin, for his part, seemed perfectly aware of this invisible distance. He continued to act like a caring boyfriend, but often his gaze would linger on Annie with an expression that was hard to interpret, as if he were searching for something he could no longer find.

Then there was you.

At first, you hadn't realized at all how much time Annie spent with you. It seemed perfectly natural. You were roommates, after all. It made sense that you shared more time together than the rest of the group. But gradually, even the others started to notice.

Annie often waited for you after your classes. She'd invite you to come with her when she went to buy equipment for her rehearsals. The evenings you spent chatting in your room sometimes stretched into the middle of the night. During group outings, it became almost automatic that you'd end up side by side without even planning it. There was nothing particularly strange about it. Nothing that could have seemed out of place.

Yet, as the months went by, a kind of invisible pull seemed to draw Annie to you again and again.

And the more you integrated into the group, the more obvious this closeness became.

Not just to you.

Not just to Annie.

But also to Armin.

Winter had gradually settled over the campus. The trees lining the main avenues had lost their last leaves weeks ago, and a thin layer of frost often covered the lawns when you left the residence early in the morning. End-of-year decorations were starting to appear all over the university, from strings of lights hanging from the windows of the buildings to the enormous fir trees erected near the central square. The atmosphere seemed calmer than at the start of the semester. The students were now used to their new lives, groups of friends had formed, and everyone had found their place on campus.

You too.

When you thought back to the nervous young woman who had walked through the university gates a few months earlier, you almost felt like you were thinking of someone else. Now, you knew every nook and cranny of the campus, the best places to study in peace, and the cafes where Eren always ended up dragging everyone after class. You had found your bearings, your routines, and above all, your friends. Eren's group had become an integral part of your daily life. It was rare for a day to go by without you running into Reiner, Historia, or Ymir, and even rarer for a week to pass without the whole group getting together somewhere to spend time together.

And then there was Annie.

Without you even realizing it, she had come to occupy a special place in your life. Maybe because you shared the same room. Maybe because she was the first person you saw every morning and the last you saw before falling asleep. Or maybe simply because you got along so well. Whatever the reason, her presence had become so familiar that you had trouble imagining your daily life without her.

That's probably why you quickly noticed that something was wrong.

It wasn't anything dramatic. Nothing that would have caught the attention of an outsider. Annie continued to go out with Armin, they still participated in the same activities with the group, and they seemed perfectly cordial to each other. Yet, something had changed. A subtle distance seemed to have grown between them over the weeks. At parties with friends, they were less often found sitting next to each other. Their conversations seemed shorter. More mechanical. As if each of them spoke out of habit rather than genuine desire.

You couldn't really explain what gave you this impression. After all, they had never been particularly demonstrative. Even before this, Annie and Armin weren't the type of couple to kiss in public or flaunt their relationship at every opportunity. Yet, the more you observed them, the more you had the feeling that something was slowly fading away.

The strangest thing was that no one seemed to be talking about it.

Neither Eren.

Nor Mikasa.

Not even Ymir, who couldn't seem to stop thinking about her.

It was as if everyone had noticed the change without ever feeling the need to say a word.

Then one day, unsurprisingly, their relationship ended.

There was no argument. No scandal. No shouting that would have made other students turn around in a café or a hallway. Their breakup mirrored their relationship: calm, discreet, and profoundly mature. Two people who genuinely cared for each other but had finally realized they were no longer in love. Or perhaps they never had been in love in that way.

For several days, you didn't even know anything had changed.

No one mentioned it.

Life went on as usual. Classes, band rehearsals, study nights, and dinners with friends followed one another without anything seeming different. If Annie was hurting from the breakup, she didn't show it. If Armin regretted their decision, he kept his thoughts to himself. From the outside, everything seemed perfectly normal.

That's why you were surprised when Annie finally brought it up.

It was a particularly cold evening. Rain was falling against your bedroom windows, and the dorm was unusually quiet. You had been working at your desk for several hours when Annie came home. She looked like she'd just returned from a long walk. Her hair was slightly damp, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold.

You watched her take off her coat before settling onto her bed without saying a word.

Something about her demeanor immediately caught your attention.

Not sadness.

Not anger.

Simply a form of silent reflection.

For a few minutes, not a word was exchanged. You returned to your notes while she watched the rain fall distractedly outside the window. Then finally, in a calm, almost detached voice, she broke the silence.

— "Armin and I have broken up," she announced simply.

The sentence caught you off guard.

You immediately looked up at her.

Yet, seeing her expression, you understood that this decision wasn't recent in her mind. Annie seemed neither upset nor angry. On the contrary, she appeared strangely at peace.

You offered her a few words of comfort, not really knowing what to say in this kind of situation.

Annie simply shrugged slightly.

— "It's okay," she said reassuringly.

After a few seconds of silence, she finally continued, her eyes still fixed on the window.

— “We were trying to make something work that hadn’t worked for a while.”

Her voice was soft, almost deliberate.

— “I still care about him. I really do. But not like this.” She finished softly.

You didn’t answer right away.

Because deep down, you understood what she meant.

Sometimes, two people can care deeply for each other without necessarily being meant to be together.

Sometimes, affection isn’t enough.

Silence fell again in the room, but it wasn’t heavy. Annie seemed lighter than she had been in weeks. As if this conversation was finally putting words to something she had been carrying for a long time.

At first, you didn't notice anything.

Or rather, you noticed certain things without ever giving them much thought. After all, you and Annie were already close before her breakup with Armin. You lived together, spent a lot of your free time together, and shared an intimacy that few people could understand. So it was perfectly normal that she continued to talk to you, look for you during band outings, or sit near you during rehearsals. None of it seemed unusual.

Yet, in retrospect, the changes were definitely there.

They were simply subtle.

Annie wasn't the type to make grand declarations or suddenly become demonstrative. She was still Annie. Reserved, discreet, sometimes even a little cold to others. But when you spent as much time with her as you did, the smallest details eventually became apparent. You noticed, for example, that she always seemed to know where you were. Whenever a party was held somewhere on campus, her gaze would find you almost immediately the moment she walked into the room. When the group broke into smaller conversations, she invariably ended up joining the one you were in. Even when she seemed distracted or busy, you often had the strange feeling that part of her attention remained constantly directed toward you.

There was also the way she looked at you.

It wasn't something particularly obvious. Annie wasn't the type of person to stare for no reason. Yet, there were times when you'd look up from your computer or book to find her eyes on you. Each time, she'd look away almost immediately, as if she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. At first, you thought you were just overthinking it. Then it started again. And again. And again.

As the weeks went by, Annie seemed to seek out your presence more and more. If you decided to study in the library, she'd suddenly find a great reason to spend the afternoon there. If you went to work in a café near campus, it wasn't unusual for her to show up an hour later with headphones around her neck and a takeaway coffee in her hands. She usually didn't say anything about it. She'd simply sit next to you as if her presence were the most natural thing in the world.

Even the others started to notice.

Ymir was probably the first.

You still remembered her amused smile when she'd watched Annie cross the entire room just to sit next to you, even though there were plenty of empty seats elsewhere. She hadn't said anything at the time, but her look was more than enough to convey that she'd noticed something.

Then came the compliments.

They were rare.

Precious.

Because they came from Annie.

Someone who never offered such things lightly.

One day, she noticed a new sweater you'd just bought and simply remarked that it suited you before returning to her guitar as if she hadn't said a word. Another time, after watching you work for a good part of the evening, she simply stated that people probably underestimated how intelligent you were. The remark surprised you. Not because it was particularly romantic, but because it came from her. Annie never spoke unless she had something to say.

What truly changed things, however, was the way she began to see you.

Before, you sometimes felt that Annie saw you as a close friend. Someone she felt comfortable with. Someone she genuinely liked.

Now, it was different.

You could feel it, but you couldn't explain it.

Her reactions were more immediate when it came to you. Her mood sometimes seemed to depend on yours. On the rare occasions when you had a bad day, Annie became strangely attentive. She wasn't particularly good at comforting people, but she tried anyway. Silently. In her own way. A coffee placed on your desk when you were studying late. A slice of your favorite dessert brought back from the cafeteria. A playlist sent in the middle of the night because a song had made her think of you.

And then there was the way she'd become slightly distant when someone else was getting too much of your attention.

Not aggressive.

Not obviously jealous.

But silent.

As if something was bothering her without her really knowing how to express it.

When a student in your year started talking to you regularly after class, you noticed that Annie was suddenly asking him far more questions than she normally would. When someone else on campus suggested you join a study group, Annie became strangely critical of their methods. Each reaction was perfectly justifiable on its own.

But put together…

They told a very different story.

A story that Annie herself might not have been fully ready to acknowledge yet.

Because over the months, quietly, without any dramatic declarations, and without even realizing it at first, Annie Leonhart had fallen in love with you.

And the stronger that feeling became, the harder it was for her to be content with just being your roommate.

The concert took place in late spring, a time when the campus seemed to vibrate with a special energy. Exams were approaching, students were already talking about summer vacation, and the air itself seemed lighter than at the beginning of the year. For several weeks, everyone had been waiting for this event. Ymir and Annie's band had become extremely popular at the university, and this concert was to close out the annual student festival. Hundreds of students had gathered in front of the stage set up in the center of campus, some wearing band t-shirts, others simply waiting to see the musicians everyone had been talking about for months.

Naturally, your whole gang was there.

You arrived with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin before meeting up with Reiner, Bertholdt, Historia, Jean, Connie, and Sasha near the stage. Everyone seemed particularly excited that evening. Even Armin, usually so reserved, seemed eager for the concert to begin. As for Historia, she wasn't even trying to hide her pride anymore when it came to Ymir.

You, however, had come mainly for Annie.

For the past few months, you had seen her working harder than ever. You had watched her rehearse until the middle of the night in your room, repeating the same passages over and over until they were perfect. You had heard her playing behind the door when she thought she was alone. You knew the invisible effort hidden behind every performance.

So when the lights finally dimmed and the crowd erupted in applause, your heart was beating almost as fast as if you were the one taking the stage.

The concert was incredible.

Ymir possessed a natural stage presence that immediately captivated everyone. As soon as she began to sing, it became difficult to look away. Yet, despite this, your gaze kept returning to Annie.

She stood slightly apart, as always. Her guitar rested against her with an almost disconcerting ease. Under the stage lights, her blond hair seemed to shine and her gaze remained focused on her music.

But several times during the concert, you had the distinct feeling that she was searching for you in the crowd.

Amidst hundreds of faces. Amidst all her friends. Her eyes kept returning to you.

And each time it happened, your heart skipped a beat.

When the concert finally ended, the campus erupted in applause. The students were still cheering the band as the musicians left the stage. Around you, everyone was talking at once.

Eren was gesturing wildly, repeating that it was the best concert he'd ever seen. Connie was claiming he was going to become the band's manager, even though no one had asked him. Sasha was already haggling with a street vendor to get something to eat.

Meanwhile, you were only thinking about one thing: finding Annie.

So you took advantage of the general chaos to slip discreetly backstage. Several staff members were still bustling around the stage, but no one paid you any attention. After all, you'd become a familiar face around the band over the course of the year.

You finally found Annie away from the commotion.

She was standing alone behind the main building, where the festival lights barely reached. Her guitar was resting against a nearby chair as she watched the festivities in the distance.

When she saw you approach, her expression changed immediately.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But you knew Annie well enough to notice the difference.

She looked happy to see you. Truly happy.

You approached with a broad smile.

— "The concert was incredible," you said encouragingly.

Annie looked away slightly, just as she always did when someone complimented her.

— "Thank you," she replied simply.

Despite her brief answer, you noticed her ears were slightly red.

You let out a small laugh.

— "I'm serious. Everyone was great, but you..." You started softly. You gently shook your head. "You were magnificent on stage."

This time, Annie remained silent for a few seconds.

And when she finally looked up at you, something in her gaze seemed different. Perhaps more intense, or more vulnerable.

— “I was hoping you’d come,” she said finally.

You blinked in surprise.

— “Of course I was going to come,” you laughed nervously.

— “I know.”

Her voice was soft.

Almost hesitant.

And that alone was enough to make you understand that something important was about to happen.

A comfortable silence settled between you. For a moment, only the distant music of the festival disturbed the calm backstage.

Then Annie took a deep breath.

As if she were summoning her courage.

— “I’m really hopeless at this sort of thing,” she admitted.

You smiled.

— “That doesn’t reassure me at all,” you replied awkwardly.

A small laugh escaped her.

And for a few seconds, you glimpsed that version of Annie that very few people had the chance to know. The one who existed far from the spotlight, far from her reputation, far from her usual mask.

Then her smile faded gently.

— “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The whole world seemed to fall silent around you.

Annie continued before you even had a chance to reply.

— “At first, I thought it was just because we were close,” she explained, staring at the floor. “Then I started waiting for you to come back to the room when you were out. Looking for your face in crowds. Thinking about you for stupid things all day long.”

She let out a nervous laugh before looking up at you.

— “And when Armin and I broke up, I realized something.” “

Her voice was calm.

Sincere.

— “I respected him. I cared about him. But I was never as happy with him as I was with you.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure she could hear it.

— “So there you have it,” Annie murmured.

She took one last breath.

— “I love you.”

The silence that followed was probably one of the longest of your life.

Not because you didn’t know what to say. But because you were simply trying to realize that this was really happening.

All those times your eyes had met. All those evenings spent together in your room. All the quiet gestures she had made for you.

Suddenly, everything made sense. A smile finally appeared on your face. Then a second. And soon you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

Annie looked at you immediately with concern. As if she were afraid she'd misinterpreted the whole situation.

So you took the few steps that separated you. And you gently took her hand in yours.

— "You know..." Your eyes never left hers. "I was hoping you'd finally tell me one day."

For a full second, Annie remained perfectly still.

Then her cheeks turned red. Really red. It was probably the most adorable thing you'd ever seen.

A laugh escaped you as she immediately looked away, clearly embarrassed.

But this time, you didn't let her get away. You gently put your arms around her neck before pulling her close.

For a few seconds, Annie seemed completely lost. Before finally holding you close in turn. As if she'd been waiting for this moment for months.

In the distance, the festival continued in full swing. Your friends were probably laughing somewhere in the crowd, completely unaware of what had just happened.

But at that precise moment, it didn't matter.

Because the concert was over.

And so was the academic year, almost.

Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa wouldn’t discover the cheating immediately. She’d notice the little details first: your scent being different, your shorter replies, the way your eyes avoided hers.

She would grow quiet. Terrifyingly quiet. The kind of silence that turns every room into a graveyard.

The day she finally understood, she wouldn’t yell. She would simply ask:

“How long has it been going on?”

And the worst part… she would still look more heartbroken than angry.

Mikasa is possessive by nature. So learning that someone else touched you would awaken something deeply animalistic in her.

She would immediately want to find that person.

Not necessarily to kill them.

But to make them understand that YOU were not available.

After that, she would become incredibly clingy. Sleeping without you? Impossible. Letting you out of her sight? Even less.

She would constantly look at you like you might disappear at any second.

And if you tried to leave after confessing?

Mikasa would gently grab your wrist before whispering:

“No. You’ve already broken me enough.”

Annie Leonhart

Annie would be terrifying.

Not because she’d scream.

Precisely because she wouldn’t.

You’d probably confess while she was absentmindedly playing with a guitar pick or cleaning her hands after training.

And she would stay completely still, too shocked to form a sentence. Then, when she finally spoke, she’d simply say:

“Repeat that.”

Her voice would be calm. Almost disturbingly calm. (Actually terrifying.)

Annie would take cheating as a personal humiliation. In her mind, she already gave you more attention than anyone else in the world. So realizing that it still wasn’t enough for you… would make her sick.

She’d start becoming more aggressive with everyone. Sharper. More irritable. But with you? Suffocating.

Annie would become obsessed with the idea of “winning back” your complete attention.

She’d sleep in your room without asking.

Answer your messages for you.

And stare at anyone who looked at you for a little too long like she was calculating how many seconds it would take to break their nose.

One night, she’d probably end up resting her forehead against yours and whisper:

“Tell me what they had that I didn’t.”

Silence.

“No… forget it. I don’t even want to know.”

Sasha Braus

Sasha would cry immediately. She wouldn’t even try to hide it.

She’d look at you with huge watery eyes like you had ripped her heart out with your bare hands before whispering:

“Y-you cheated on me…?”

And honestly? Her sadness would feel so genuine that you’d immediately feel awful.

But the problem with Yandere!Sasha is that once the sadness fades, she becomes possessive. And not just a little.

She’d start monopolizing your time constantly under the excuse that she’s “afraid you’ll do it again.”

She’d always want to eat with you, sleep beside you, go everywhere with you.

And every time someone talked to you for a little too long, her smile would tighten ever so slightly.

Sasha would forgive you. But never completely.

Deep down, she’d always carry the fear that someone might steal you away from her again.

Ymir

Ymir would react with sarcasm. She’d wear a smug grin and say:

“Seriously? You’ve got terrible taste.”

She’d act like she didn’t care.

She’d probably even laugh.

But as the day went on… she’d become meaner and meaner with everyone around her.

Not because Ymir loves violently. But because she loves in an almost desperate way.

So discovering she wasn’t “enough” for you would awaken every insecurity she has.

She’d become incredibly possessive physically. Always an arm around your waist, a hand at the back of your neck, always pressed close to you.

As if she wanted to remind the entire world:

“She’s mine.”

And honestly? She’d almost hate the person you cheated with more than she hated you.

Historia Reiss

Unlike Sasha, Historia would cry silently.

The kind of elegant, broken crying that would make you want to die from guilt immediately.

She’d probably ask if she had done something wrong, which would only make you feel worse.

She’d desperately try to understand why, asking you countless questions about the person you cheated with.

In a trembling voice, she’d whisper:

“I can change if you want me to…”

BUT.

Yandere!Historia becomes dangerous when she’s hurt.

Because she spent her entire life learning how to hide her true emotions behind a soft smile.

So she’d continue acting sweet. Too sweet. While quietly destroying the person you cheated with socially, mentally, and sometimes even physically.

And you? She’d keep you close constantly under the excuse that she “just needs reassurance.”

Hitch Dreyse

Hitch would make a MONUMENTAL scene. Screaming, insults, objects thrown in your direction. The full package.

She’d probably yell something like:

“Seriously?! ME?! You found someone better than ME?!”

She’d act like she hated you afterward.

For about… three hours.

Then she’d come back crying in your bed at 2 a.m.

Hitch is the type of yandere who becomes emotionally dependent extremely quickly.

So even after betrayal, she’d struggle to truly leave you.

She’d just become way more paranoid.

Hange Zoë

Hange would be terrifying. Not because they’d yell or threaten you. But because they’d smile through your entire confession.

And once you finished, they’d murmur:

“Fascinating… so this is what jealousy feels like.”

They’d ask incredibly precise and unsettling questions about the cheating like a scientist analyzing an experiment.

But beneath that curiosity… you’d feel an enormous amount of anger.

Hange would become completely obsessed with understanding WHY you cheated on them.

They’d sleep less.

Watch you more.

And would probably end up saying:

“I think the problem is that I gave you too much freedom.”

Pieck Finger

Pieck would know before you even confessed.

She notices everything, as always.

And yet, she’d continue acting normal for several days just to see how far you’d go.

Which is TERRIFYING.

Then one evening, while her head rested on your lap, she’d suddenly ask:

“Do you love them more than me?”

Her voice would be soft. Almost tired.

Pieck would never yell.

She’d simply become more manipulative.

More present, until she became indispensable to you.

She’d slowly isolate the person you cheated with from your life until they disappeared completely.

And you? She’d treat you with an almost sickening gentleness. As if she were trying to make you incapable of ever leaving again.

Yelena

Yelena would react like a religious fanatic betrayed by her own deity.

She’d stare at you for FAR too long after the confession.

Then laugh softly. Which would somehow be infinitely worse than a breakdown.

She’d hold her stomach like you had just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

Then she’d stop abruptly and say:

“Did you really think you could love someone other than me?”

Yelena becomes extremely emotionally unstable when she’s in love.

So cheating would push her into something almost obsessively unhealthy.

She’d want to “purify” you from that other relationship.

Erase every trace of that person.

She’d genuinely be capable of locking you away while sincerely believing she was protecting you from yourself.

The neighborhood had changed over the years. The small houses pressed tightly against each other had eventually been covered in fresh coats of paint, some gardens had disappeared beneath concrete, and the children who once ran through the streets had grown into exhausted teenagers dragging school bags behind them. And yet, every time you walked past that old row of houses, it felt like nothing had truly changed.

Especially not them.

When you were kids, you were always together. You, Annie Leonhart, and Pieck Finger were the neighborhood girls everyone knew. Pieck spent her time sprawled across sidewalks with a disposable camera in her hands while Annie followed behind silently, knees scraped raw and her blonde hair already tied into that messy bun she still wore today.

And you…

You were always between them.

Then you moved away. Not very far. But far enough for things to change.

At first, you still saw each other every day. Then several times a week. Then only at middle school. Then the messages became less frequent, the habits less natural, until you became the kind of friends who had known each other forever but no longer really knew what to say to one another.

At least… that’s what you thought.

Because once you started high school, you quickly realized that Annie and Pieck had never really stopped watching you.

— “[Y/N]?”

A familiar voice called your name.

You turned your head in the nearly empty hallway just in time to feel someone latch onto your arm with immediate familiarity.

Pieck.

Her long brown hair fell messily around her tired face, her half-lidded gray eyes still giving her that perpetually exhausted look she’d had since childhood. Unlike the other students who all tried to look sophisticated, she simply wore a dark skirt, an oversized sweater, and an elegant jacket slightly wrinkled, as if even her clothes were too lazy to sit perfectly straight.

— “It’s been exactly eight days since you stopped replying in the group chat,” she said in her usual tired tone.

You blinked.

— “You actually count the days?” you replied, both impressed and slightly disturbed.

— “Of course,” she answered, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Then her eyes drifted behind you. Her smile widened slightly.

— “Annie.”

You turned just in time to see the blonde reaching the end of the hallway, a guitar case slung over her shoulder. She still wore her usual black makeup around her eyes, slightly smudged as if she’d applied it half-asleep, and her lips stained dark red contrasted sharply against her pale skin. Several students instinctively moved out of her way as she passed.

Annie had that reputation. The cold girl. The weird girl. The girl who answered teachers sharply and skipped class to sit behind the gym alone, playing guitar. And yet, when her blue eyes landed on you…

Something in her expression immediately softened.

Only slightly. But enough for Pieck to notice.

— “Hey,” you murmured with a small smile.

Annie merely shrugged.

— “You ignored Pieck’s messages again,” she said casually.

— “Hey!” the brunette protested. “Why do you say it like that’s a crime?”

— “Because you spam people like a psychopath,” the blonde sighed.

— “That’s not true,” Pieck defended herself before pausing briefly. Then she added, “I was just worried.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

And for one second… both of them looked at you exactly the same way. As if that sound had been missed more than it should have been.

The following weeks were strange.

Not unpleasant. Quite the opposite.

Just… strange.

Because Pieck started clinging to you again whenever she could. In the cafeteria. In the hallways. After class. She always seemed to appear somewhere nearby, dragging her journalism club notebook against her chest with that lazy expression that barely hid her constant attention.

— “Are you walking home with us?” she asked.

— “Us?” you questioned.

— “Annie and me,” she replied simply.

And Annie…

Annie started looking at you the way she had when she was a child.

Even back then, she had been possessive without really knowing how to hide it. Whenever other kids talked to you for too long, she would suddenly appear beside you with her closed-off expression and sharp replies until everyone eventually left.

Except here, in high school, it was worse.

Much worse.

— “He’s flirting with you,” she said accusingly.

You looked up from your phone to see Annie sitting on the edge of the school rooftop, an unlit cigarette trapped between her fingers.

— “Who?” you asked innocently.

She vaguely gestured toward the courtyard below.

— “The guy in the red sneakers,” she answered flatly.

You narrowed your eyes.

— “I literally just asked him for a pen…” you defended yourself.

— “Yeah,” she shot back coldly, her eyes still fixed on the boy. Her gaze looked sharp enough to cut glass. “He’s still flirting with you.”

You laughed nervously before sitting beside her.

— “You’re paranoid,” you said softly with a laugh.

— “No,” she replied sharply.

Annie finally turned her head toward you. The wind moved a few loose blonde strands escaping from her bun.

— “People get weird around you.”

Your heart made a strange movement.

Not because of the words.

But because of the way she looked at you.

As if she were annoyed with the entire world.

And a little with you too.

That same evening, Pieck showed up at your house unannounced carrying drinks and ridiculous excuses.

— “I was too lazy to go home,” she said softly.

— “You live five minutes away,” you pointed out with a frown.

— “Exactly. Too far.” She laughed.

Pieck immediately settled onto your bed while you worked on homework, her chin resting on your shoulder as if the position were completely natural.

— “Annie was irritated today,” she said lazily.

— “I know…” you sighed.

Pieck slowly looked up at you.

— “Do you know why?” she asked.

You hesitated.

— “Because of the guy?”

Pieck smiled.

But her smile was slow.

Almost strange.

— “Mhm,” she answered simply with a nod.

Then she added softly:

— “She hates when people try to take you away.”

Your pen stopped moving.

You turned toward her, brows furrowed.

— “Take me away…?” you repeated.

— “Annie’s territorial.” Pieck said it with almost affectionate amusement. “She’s always been like that.”

Silence drifted through the room.

Then the brunette leaned a little closer to your face.

— “Me too, a little.”

Your heart immediately sped up.

Because she was close.

Far too close.

And because her gray eyes suddenly seemed much less sleepy than before.

— “Pieck…” you whispered.

— “Mhm?”

You should’ve pulled away.

You really should have.

But before you could even move, someone knocked harshly against your window. Both of you startled before you immediately recognized the figure sitting on the fire escape outside.

Annie.

Pieck burst into laughter.

— “She’s genuinely terrifying sometimes,” she laughed.

You opened the window while Annie stared at you with irritation.

— “Why are your curtains closed?” she grumbled.

— “…Good evening to you too?”

She completely ignored your comment before glancing at Pieck behind you.

— “You’re glued to her again,” she said accusingly.

— “Jealous?” Pieck teased.

— “No,” Annie lied almost immediately.

Pieck’s smile widened even more.

And Annie climbed straight into your room as if she still lived next door to you.

As if all those years of distance had never happened at all.

Then she sat beside you on the bed before saying in a perfectly flat tone:

— “We’re sleeping here tonight.”

You opened your mouth.

— “Excuse me?” you protested.

Pieck immediately collapsed onto your pillow with a satisfied sigh.

— “Good idea,” the brunette murmured.

And faced with your completely lost expression… Annie finally looked up at you.

— “What?” she said, sounding almost offended.

Then her voice lowered slightly.

The sun was setting over the training grounds of the 104th Cadet Corps, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose. The air was still heavy with the scent of trampled earth and sweat, a testament to a day of exhausting effort. Sitting in the grass, you let your shoulders relax, savoring a rare moment of tranquility.

Beside you, Sasha held a piece of bread as if it were humanity’s most precious treasure, her eyes gleaming with almost heroic determination. When Connie tried to snatch a bite, she twisted away with surprising agility, clutching the loaf to her chest like a mother protecting her child.

— “No way!” she exclaimed with her mouth full, swallowing hastily before adding with a mischievous grin, “I don’t like sharing. Food is sacred!”

Connie shrugged and walked away, leaving the two of you alone. You watched the scene with a small smile, something Sasha quickly noticed.

— “Do you want some?” she asked, holding out the remaining half.

You laughed softly.

— “Sasha, that’s the third one you’ve offered me today.”

She shrugged with a playful grin.

— “That’s because you’re my favorite.”

She always said it jokingly. And yet, her eyes never laughed.

Your friendship had begun in the earliest days of training. You had defended her when she was reprimanded for stealing a potato, and since then, she had never left your side. You ate together, trained together, and Sasha often slept beside you in the dormitory, claiming you were simply “more reassuring.”

To her, your presence had become as essential as the air she breathed. To you… she was your refuge. But your heart belonged to someone else.

— “You’re looking at him again,” she said, her tone laced with quiet weariness.

Sasha’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You blinked.

— “What?”

She discreetly gestured toward the other side of the field. Jean was talking with Connie, his face lit by a teasing smile.

— “Jean Kirstein,” she murmured, a faint crease forming at the corner of her lips. “You never take your eyes off him.”

Heat flooded your cheeks.

— “Is it that obvious?”

Sasha studied you for a moment before offering a gentle smile.

A few days later, you finally found the courage to confess the truth. Sitting on the barracks steps, the stars shimmered above you.

— “Sasha… I think I’m in love with Jean.”

Silence fell, light yet strange.

She remained still for a few seconds, her eyes fixed ahead. Then she turned toward you, wearing a smile that seemed sincere.

— “Really?”

You nodded shyly.

— “Yes.”

She watched you for a long moment before replying softly:

— “Then I’ll help you. After all… you’re my best friend.”

Her words were tender. Her gaze, however, was far darker.

In the days that followed, Sasha proved to be an impeccable ally. She found excuses to bring you closer to Jean, organized shared meals, and gave you clumsy yet enthusiastic advice.

— “You should smile at him more,” she would say. “Boys like that.”

Yet every time Jean looked at you, Sasha unconsciously placed herself between you, laughing a little too loudly or clinging to your arm with possessive familiarity.

And every time Jean walked away, her smile became perfectly sweet again.

One evening after training, you thanked her.

— “Without you, I never would have dared to talk to him.”

Sasha let out a light laugh.

— “It’s only natural. I want you to be happy.” Then she added, almost in a whisper, “And you’re always happiest with me.”

You didn’t notice the way her fingers gently closed around your hand.

Later, during a training expedition in the forest, Jean offered to accompany you to gather firewood. Your heart raced.

But Sasha intervened immediately.

— “Oh, sorry, Jean!” she said with a bright smile. “[Y/N] has to come with me. The captain asked us to.”

Jean shrugged and walked away. You frowned.

— “The captain? Really?”

Sasha looked at you silently for a moment before smiling.

— “Of course. You trust me, don’t you?”

You hesitated… then nodded.

— “Yes.”

Her smile widened, radiant.

That night, lying in the dormitory, she turned toward you. Moonlight cast silvery reflections in her brown eyes.

— “Tell me…” she murmured. “If Jean disappeared, would you be sad for long?”

You let out a small laugh, assuming it was a joke.

— “Sasha! Don’t say such nonsense.”

She smiled as well, but her eyes remained strangely serious.

— “Yes… sorry, I’m talking nonsense.”

She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite gentleness.

— “But [N/N]… you don’t need anyone else.” Her voice was tender, almost soothing. “I’ll protect you. I’ll share my food with you. I’ll always stay by your side.” Her fingers intertwined with yours. “No one can love you as much as I do.”

You blushed faintly, unsettled.

— “Sasha…”

She smiled, radiant as always. But in the darkness, her gaze shimmered with a new light. Possessive. Determined. Unshakable.

She leaned closer and whispered softly:

— “You’re my favorite person, [Y/N].”

A pause. Then, almost under her breath:

At first, it was almost pleasant. You still remembered the exhaustion weighing you down that day, the mission that had gone wrong, your body too heavy to keep going, that feeling of teetering on the edge of something… maybe fainting, maybe worse. And then there had been Pieck, her calm, steady, almost monotone voice, finding you and simply saying you could come rest at her place. You hadn’t thought about it. You had just agreed.

Her apartment was quiet, almost outside of time, bathed in a soft light that seemed to filter through curtains too thick to let the outside world in. There was always a warm teapot somewhere, a cup ready, a blanket draped over a chair as if it had already been waiting for you. And Pieck… she was always there.

— “You should rest a little longer.” Her voice was soft and calm, never forcing anything. She always suggested, as if you had a choice.

At first, you thought it was just you and your fatigue, the aftermath, the injuries. But as the days passed, you had to admit it… something wasn’t right.

You dreamed. That sounded normal enough. But this… this was too much.

Strange dreams. Heavy, clinging ones that stayed stuck to you even after you woke up, like a fog you couldn’t shake. In those dreams, there was always a room, always the same one, and a persistent, almost suffocating feeling that you had to leave.

But you couldn’t.

You woke up with a heavy head, a dull ache behind your temples, and that strange taste at the back of your throat, as if something had slipped in there while you slept. Every time, Pieck was already awake, sitting nearby, a cup in her hands, her gaze resting on you with that quiet attentiveness that never seemed to fade.

— “Bad dream?” You nodded. And she handed you tea. It was always tea. “It helps.”

And you drank it. Maybe because it was warm. Maybe because it was comforting. But probably… because it was her.

The days blurred together. Or maybe they were the same days repeating. You had tried to leave once. You remembered that clearly. You had gotten up, a little too fast, your head spinning but determined, convinced you had stayed too long, that you needed to go back, find the others, pick your life back up where you had left it. You reached the door and placed your hand on the handle.

And then… nothing.

Like a blackout.

And when you woke up, you were back in bed.

— “You fainted.”

Pieck’s voice was just as calm, almost gentle, as if nothing unusual had happened. She adjusted the blanket around you with slow precision, her movements measured, delicate, as if you were something fragile.

— “You’re not ready yet.”

Not ready? The words lingered in your mind.

You stopped trying after that. Not completely. But… enough. Because every attempt ended the same way. Because your body refused. Because your mind went hazy whenever you pushed too hard. And Pieck was always there to bring you back, to distract you. Sitting beside you, or lying next to you. Her fingers sometimes brushing yours absentmindedly, as if that contact was natural, obvious, expected.

— “You’re calmer when you stay here.”

You weren’t sure if that was true anymore. But you were starting to feel it. The outside world seemed… distant. Harsh. Exhausting. Here, everything was slow, predictable, softer somehow. And Pieck looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the room.

One evening, you woke up earlier than usual. The silence was different. Heavier. You didn’t move.

Because you heard her voice.

— “…she’s trying to leave again.”

A whisper. Not for you. She was speaking to herself.

— “But it’ll pass.”

You kept your eyes closed. Your heart was beating too fast.

— “She’s happier here.”

Silence. Then a faint breath. You could almost hear the smile in her voice.

— “With me.”

Your blood ran cold.

You felt the mattress shift slightly as she moved closer, her weight settling beside you, slow and unhurried. Her fingers brushed against your face, tucking a strand of hair away with a tenderness that was unsettling… almost intimate.

— “Because…” Her voice was low now, very close to you. “you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched.

Her fingers trailed down your cheek, then stopped beneath your chin, tilting your face up slightly as if to look at you, even though your eyes remained closed.

— “And I…” A pause. “I love you better than anyone else ever could.”

A shiver ran through your entire body.

— “They wouldn’t understand.”

Her hand slipped into yours, intertwining with it.

— “But that’s okay.”

A pause.

— “Right?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because deep inside you… something was starting to give in. The exhaustion, the dreams, the tea, her voice. It all blurred together.

And as her fingers gently closed around yours, as her presence wrapped around you completely, a thought settled in, slow, insidious, impossible to ignore:

You weren’t sure you even wanted to leave anymore.

The wind was cooler than usual that evening, slipping between the barracks buildings like a quiet whisper. Most of the recruits had already gone back inside after training, though a few still lingered in the courtyard, laughing loudly, enjoying a rare moment of rest. You had stayed off to the side, sitting on the stone steps, your hands wrapped tightly around a small, clumsily wrapped package.

You weren’t even sure Annie liked birthdays.

Actually… you weren’t even sure she liked anything at all.

— “Are you waiting for someone?”

You flinched slightly, looking up. Eren stood in front of you, hands in his pockets, curiosity written all over his face. Behind him, Armin cast subtle glances at the package in your hands.

— “Uh… yeah. Well… maybe.”

Eren raised an eyebrow.

— “Maybe?”

You hesitated, then let out a soft breath.

— “It’s Annie’s birthday.”

Silence settled. Armin blinked, surprised.

— “You’re… going to give her a gift?”

You nodded, a bit nervous.

— “Is that stupid?”

Eren let out a small laugh.

— “No. Just… risky.”

You frowned.

— “Why risky?”

But before he could answer, a presence behind him caught your attention. Annie. Standing a few meters away, perfectly still, her gray eyes fixed on the three of you. How long had she been there?

The silence grew heavier. Eren cleared his throat.

— “Right… we’ll leave you two to it.”

He grabbed Armin by the shoulder and pulled him away without waiting for a response, leaving behind a strangely tense atmosphere.

You stood up slowly. Annie approached. Her steps were silent, almost too calm for someone who had just finished intense training. Her gaze briefly dropped to your hands, stopping on the package.

— “What is it?”

Her voice was neutral. As always. You swallowed lightly.

— “It’s for you.”

A brief silence passed between you. Annie didn’t answer right away. She looked at you as if trying to understand something, then her eyes drifted back down to the gift.

— “Why?”

The question was simple. But it caught you off guard.

— “Because… it’s your birthday.”

She tilted her head slightly.

— “You remembered?”

You let out a small, nervous laugh.

— “Of course.”

Another silence.

Then, slowly, Annie reached out. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the package. A brief contact. But enough to send a faint tension through the air. She opened the gift more delicately than you would have imagined. The paper crinkled softly under her fingers, revealing a small, simple object. Nothing luxurious, nothing impressive… just something you had chosen with her in mind.

Annie stayed still for a few seconds, her eyes fixed on it. Then she murmured:

— “You thought of me for this?”

You nodded.

— “Yeah.”

She slowly closed her hand around it. Then she looked back up at you. Her expression had barely changed. But something in her gaze… had softened, just slightly.

— “Come.”

The word slipped out of her mouth so easily.

— “Huh?”

— “There’s less wind behind the building.”

You hesitated for a second, then agreed. You walked side by side in silence, circling the barracks until you reached a quieter, more secluded area. The noise of the other recruits faded, muffled by stone and distance.

You sat down against the wall. Annie remained standing for a few seconds before sitting beside you. Close enough for your shoulders to brush.

— “You didn’t have to.”

Her voice was lower now, more intimate. You turned your head slightly toward her.

— “I wanted to.”

She looked at you for a long moment without looking away.

— “Do you do that for everyone?”

The question surprised you.

— “No.” You turned your head slightly, blushing. “Just you.”

The words came out naturally. But as soon as they left your lips, something shifted. Annie didn’t move at all, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you couldn’t ignore.

— “Why?”

You felt your heart beat a little faster.

— “I don’t know…” You shrugged slightly. “I like being with you.”

A barely audible breath left her lips, as if she were holding something back.

— “You like…” she repeated slowly. Then, almost in a whisper, “Being with me.”

Her hand moved slowly. Her fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently at first, then a little more firmly. You flinched slightly.

— “Annie?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were still fixed on you. But there was something different now. Something darker… more intense too.

— “Then stay.”

You blinked.

— “What?”

Her grip tightened slightly.

Not enough to hurt. But enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

— “Stay with me.” Her voice was calm, too calm. “Tonight.”

The wind blew softly around you. But the air felt heavier now, denser.

— “Annie…”

You tried gently to pull your hand away, but she didn’t let go. On the contrary, her fingers tightened a little more.

— “You can stay.” She tilted her head slightly, her blonde hair slipping over her shoulder. “Right?”

It wasn’t really a question. Your heart beat faster. But not just from fear. There was something else. Something unsettling in the way she looked at you. As if you had become… important. Essential.

— “Just for a while.”

She added more softly. Her grip loosened slightly. Just enough to give you a choice. Or at least… the illusion of one.

You hesitated. Then, slowly, you nodded.

— “Okay.”

The change was almost imperceptible, but it was there. In the way her shoulders relaxed, in the sudden softness of her gaze, in the way her fingers slipped from yours… without fully letting go.

Annie turned her head slightly toward you. And for the first time since you’d known her…

She smiled, small, subtle, but genuine.

— “Good choice.”

—

The room was bathed in a quiet darkness, broken only by the pale moonlight filtering through the window. The silence was almost complete, barely disturbed by the wind brushing against the outer walls of the barracks. Lying on the bed next to Annie, you stared at the ceiling without really seeing it, your mind far too busy to find sleep.

Her hand was still intertwined with yours. And she hadn’t let go once. At first, you thought it was just… a reflex. Something unconscious, a need for contact in the stillness of the night. But as the minutes passed, you realized it wasn’t that.

Her grip was steady, constant. As if she kept checking, over and over, that you were still there.

Your gaze slowly drifted toward her. Annie seemed asleep. Her face was relaxed, her usually cold features softened by rest, her blonde hair slightly spread across the pillow. She looked… peaceful. And it did something to you. Something dangerous. Because you knew very few people ever got to see her like this.

You swallowed lightly. Your fingers tightened gently around hers, almost timidly, as if testing an invisible boundary. For a second, nothing happened, and you thought she wouldn’t notice. But almost immediately… her fingers responded.

Her grip tightened slightly around yours. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you understand. She wasn’t fully asleep. Your heart skipped a beat.

— “Annie…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, then she opened her eyes. In the dim light, her gray irises seemed darker, deeper, as if they absorbed the light instead of reflecting it.

— “You’re not sleeping.”

It wasn’t a question.

You let out a small, nervous breath.

— “Neither are you.”

A brief silence settled between you, but this time it was filled with something more intimate. Something that made your heart beat just a little too fast.

— “Why did you stay?”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked.

— “You asked me to…”

Annie looked at you for a long moment without moving.

— “That’s not an answer.”

Your gaze drifted to your joined hands for a moment. Then you spoke again, more softly:

— “I wanted to.” You paused for a few seconds, hesitant. “I like being with you.”

The words came easier this time. More honest too. Annie didn’t answer immediately. But you felt her hand tighten slightly around yours. Then she moved slowly. Drawing a little closer to you.

— “Why?”

Again. Always that same question. But this time, her voice was lower. Almost… fragile. You hesitated. Your heart was beating too fast. But deep down, you already knew. For a while now. Even before tonight.

— “Because…” Your voice trembled slightly. “Because I like you.” A pause. Then, in a nearly inaudible breath, “Maybe a little more than that.”

Time seemed to stop. Annie didn’t move at all. Her gaze stayed locked on you, intense, impossible to escape.

Then, slowly, she moved closer again. Her hand left yours. And for a second, you thought she was going to pull away. But instead…

It came to rest against your cheek.

Her cold fingers gently brushing your skin.

— “You shouldn’t say that like it’s nothing.”

Her voice was low and calm. But there was something deeper underneath. Something dangerous that made you hold your breath.

— “Why?”

Her eyes never left yours.

— “Because…” Her fingers tightened slightly against your cheek. “I don’t take it lightly.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you felt like she could hear it. But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

— “Annie…”

She moved even closer. Your faces were only inches apart now. Her breath brushed against your lips.

— “If you say that…” A whisper. “You stay.”

Your fingers instinctively grabbed the fabric of her shirt. Not to push her away. But to ground yourself.

— “I’ll stay.”

Silence. Then, finally… Annie closed her eyes slightly and closed the distance. The kiss was soft. But her hand tightened slightly at the back of your neck. As if to make sure you wouldn’t pull away.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. Her breathing slightly more uneven than before.

— “Good.”

A whisper. Her fingers slowly slid from your cheek to your neck, then to your shoulder, before pulling you against her. This time, she didn’t just hold your hand. She wrapped herself around you completely, your body against hers, as if she wanted to erase any distance between you.

— “Sleep.”

Her voice had gone calm again. But her hold didn’t loosen.

And this time… you didn’t try to pull away. You fell asleep against her. With that strange feeling of being exactly where you wanted to be. And at the same time… with the sense that leaving, now, would be much harder.

—

The world already felt too small to contain the chaos. Stohess was nothing more than a mass of shattered stone and scattered screams, a battlefield twisted by the presence of the Female Titan who, without slowing, had already reached the wall. Her fingers sank into the surface with terrifying ease as she began her ascent, ignoring the attacks, the cables still trying to latch onto her, the orders shouted into the void. She was leaving.

— “Wait…”

The voice wasn’t loud enough to stop anything, but it was enough to crack the soldiers’ focus. Suspended in the air, one man narrowed his eyes, his gaze catching on something that didn’t fit, something that resisted the very logic of the battle.

— “Her hand…”

Several heads turned. Not toward her face. Not toward her weak points. Toward her hand. The one she kept closed. Even while climbing, even while taking hits, Annie was using only one hand to grip the wall, the other remaining stubbornly clenched against her. An absurd choice, dangerous, almost suicidal in a situation like this… and yet, she wouldn’t let it go.

— “Why is she—”

The sentence hung unfinished, cut off by a sudden spike of tension. A soldier shifted his angle, propelling himself higher, trying to see what she was hiding so fiercely. His heart pounded faster without him fully understanding why, as if his instincts had already grasped it before his eyes had. Then, he saw it.

Between two fingers… there was a face.

— “…No…” His breath caught. “THAT’S A RECRUIT!”

The shout tore through the air, raw and uncontrolled, instantly drawing every gaze to that exact point, to that hand that was no longer just an anomaly… but a truth they still refused to accept.

— “She’s holding someone!”

Another soldier moved closer, his eyes locked, desperate to confirm or deny the horror taking shape before them. Then he recognized you.

— “IT’S [Y/N]!!”

The world seemed to tilt.

For a second, no one moved. As if their bodies refused to follow the information, as if their minds were still trying to reject it.

She hadn’t just fled. She had taken you. A collective shiver ran through the soldiers, a mix of fear, confusion, and anger that came too late.

— “She’s taking her!”

And Annie kept climbing, without hesitation and without slowing. As if none of it mattered. The cables shot forward again, but this time, they hesitated. The angles were wrong, the trajectories uncertain, because now every attack carried a risk—the risk of hitting you.

And Annie knew it. Her grip tightened slightly around you, a precise, calculated adjustment that kept you perfectly in place without crushing you. Even in this vertical movement, even with the speed and strength she was using, she was careful.

Too careful.

It wasn’t a brutal hold. On the contrary… she was protecting you.

— “Annie, stop!”

Armin’s voice rose up to her, carried by the wind, desperate, useless.

She didn’t even turn her head. Because deep down, there was nothing left to hear or negotiate. Only one thing left to do. Leave. But not without you.

Inside her hand, your body rested, unconscious, shaken by the movement but never truly exposed. The outside world was reduced to fragments of light and shadow filtering between her fingers, to an oppressive warmth, to that suffocating feeling of being trapped somewhere you weren’t meant to be. Then, a shiver ran down your spine.

Your consciousness returned slowly, painfully, as if each thought had to push through a thick fog just to exist. A pressure surrounded your body, constant, inescapable, and when your eyes finally opened, reality took a moment to assemble: walls, lines of light, movement. Then understanding.

Your breath caught.

— “…Annie?”

The hand shifted slightly.

As if she had heard you.

Your heart immediately raced, panic taking over before you could even think. Your body tried to move, to pull away, to do something, anything, but the space was too tight, the pressure too present. And above all… she was holding you.

— “Annie—!”

Her fingers tightened. Not violently, not brutally. But enough to stop you. A silent warning.

Stay.

— “Let me go… Annie, please…”

Your voice trembled, broken by fear, by confusion, by this reality forcing itself on you without leaving any escape.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, her thumb slowly brushed against you, in a gesture almost contradictory to everything else—almost gentle, almost reassuring… as if she were trying to calm your panic without giving you what you were asking for. Because she wouldn’t.

The top of the wall was getting closer. The wind grew stronger. The world you knew was slipping away. And Annie still didn’t slow down. Her fingers closed a little more around you, not to hurt you, but to anchor you there, to make sure you wouldn’t slip, that you wouldn’t disappear, that you would remain exactly where she had placed you.

With her.

Because now, there was no more doubt. No more ambiguity. This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t a decision made in the moment.

It was a choice.

Ever since you were a child, you were always considered the weird, ugly, fat girl. Yet you did everything you could to break free from that image: you shared your toys in kindergarten, you did your best in sports in elementary school, you gave out test answers in middle school. But unfortunately, you weren't pretty, so even though you were kind, people still liked you less than a pretty girl, even a mean one.

When you got to high school, things had changed, though. You had become more feminine, or maybe more insecure. The fact is, you had learned how to do your makeup over the summer and had even revamped your entire wardrobe, deciding that this year would be yours.

And you had succeeded.

Not in the way you had imagined. But you had succeeded.

—

The popular kids had taken you under their wing.

Berthold sometimes walked you home after practice. Reiner would put his hand on the small of your back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Historia lent you her lip gloss in front of the bathroom mirrors. Ymir watched you with a knowing smile that said she understood everything without saying a word.

You had learned to laugh louder.

To cross your legs a certain way.

To bend over when you picked up your pen.

"Aren't you cold like that?" Reiner had blurted out one lunchtime, looking at your crop top.

You had laughed.

"Yes, a little."

"Then take off your jacket, it's distracting everyone."

Berthold had smacked him on the back of the head. "Shut up."

You had taken off the jacket anyway.

Because the stares that followed your body made you feel like you existed.

Then one day, in the hallway, you overheard two sophomores whispering:

"Wasn't she ugly before?" “Yes, but now she’s making an effort.”

Making an effort.

You had become a walking effort.

And then there was her.

Mikasa Ackerman.

Always sitting next to you in history class.

Always silent.

Always in black and red.

She drew while you touched up your eyeliner. Her fingers were stained with ink. Yours with lip gloss.

That day, when she slid the portrait toward you, you felt something shift inside you.

It wasn’t like the photos on Instagram.

It wasn’t like Reiner’s stares.

In his drawing, you weren’t sexy.

You were… beautiful.

Your dark circles were there.

Your lips weren’t overdone.

Your gaze wasn’t empty.

“Is that… me?” "You had murmured.

She had nodded.

"You... you're different when you're not smiling."

"Different how?" Her gaze had caught yours. Deep gray. Intense. Almost unsettling.

"More real."

The bell had rung. You had folded the drawing, your heart a little too tight.

"From then on, you had started talking to her.

Not enough for the popular kids to notice.

Just enough for it to become a habit.

"Why do you draw me?" you asked her one afternoon.

She didn't look up from her sketchbook.

"Because the others don't look at you properly."

You laughed.

"Yes, believe me, they do look at me."

"Not like me." Her voice was calm. Too calm.

You ignored the shiver that ran down your spine.

—

The first incident happened two weeks later.

Reiner pinned you against a locker, laughing.

"Are you coming to the party on Saturday? Wear the red dress, the one that…"

His sentence trailed off.

Mikasa was there. Right behind him.

She didn't shout. She didn't protest.

She simply placed her hand on your wrist.

"She said she was thinking about it."

Reiner frowned.

"And who are you?"

"Nobody."

But his grip tightened slightly.

You had to pull your arm away to keep things from getting awkward.

"Calm down, Mikasa, it's okay."

She stared at you. For a long time.

That evening, you received a message.

From Mikasa :

I don't like the way they look at you.

You smile.

That was cute.

A little jealous.

You replied :

Don't worry, I've got this :)

She didn't reply.

—

Things subtly changed after that.

Berthold suddenly had a run-in with a teacher and lost his captaincy for a month.

Reiner found himself at the center of a strange rumor about inappropriate messages. He spent two weeks explaining himself.

Historia, oddly enough, stopped commenting on your outfits.

One day you jokingly asked Mikasa,

"Hey, do you believe in karma?"

She slowly looked up.

"I believe we should protect what belongs to us."

Your smile froze.

"What... belongs to us?"

She closed her notebook.

"You're kind. You think everyone else is."

She moved her face slightly closer to yours. Her voice became a whisper.

"I don't."

Your heart skipped a beat.

—

The party arrived anyway. You were wearing the red dress.

But this time you felt watched differently.

Not by the crowd.

By a single pair of eyes.

Mikasa was against the wall, dressed in black, a stark contrast in the room filled with blue neon lights.

When Reiner placed his hand on your waist to make you dance, you looked for Mikasa.

She didn't move.

But the glass she was holding cracked slightly under the pressure of her fingers.

Later, when you went outside for some fresh air, she was already there.

"Are you having fun?" she asked.

"Yes. Why have you been looking at me like that for a while now?"

She came closer.

"Because every time they touch you, you smile as if you need them."

Her hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. A gentle gesture. Slow.

"You don't need anyone."

"Mikasa..."

"Not them."

Her voice broke slightly. The first crack in her calm.

"They changed the way you see yourself." Silence hung heavy between you.

"You were better before."

Before.

Before you learned how to please.

Before you understood that your body was a commodity.

Before you became a digestible version of yourself.

You felt tears welling up without understanding why.

"I just wanted to be loved."

She looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

"I already loved you."

The world seemed to shrink.

"Since when?" “— Ever since you lent your pen to Armin in tenth grade when he never spoke to you. Ever since you pretended to laugh louder than you meant to. Ever since you’ve been slowly destroying yourself so people will find you beautiful.”

Her forehead rested against yours.

“I hate that they think they created you.” Her breath was warm. Her gaze burning.

“They don’t deserve you.” Her fingers slid along your collarbone, not to seduce, but to check something.

As if she were making sure you were real.

“You’re not a doll they dress up.” Her voice dropped.

“You’re mine.”

At that point, you should have backed away.

But for the first time in months, someone was looking at you without wanting a version of you.

She wanted everything. Even what was broken.

Even what was ugly.

And it was terrifying.

Because in her eyes there wasn't just love.

There was a silent promise.

The promise that if the world continued to reduce you to your body…

She would reduce it to nothing for you.

And perhaps the most dangerous thing…

Liberio.

The gray streets, the dull walls, the tired faces.

It was your world, your playground, and despite everything, you knew how to add color to it.

You were seven years old when you met Annie Leonhart. She was solitary, her hands always in her pockets, her blue eyes fixed on a ground that seemed more interesting than any human. You, on the contrary, you talked to everyone, you laughed, you ran, you seemed unattainable.

And yet, it was you who came up to her.

— "Do you want to play with us?"

Annie raised her head, surprised. She should have refused. She should have stayed alone. But when you held out your hand, your dazzling smile almost blinded her. So she said yes.

From that day on, she never let you go.

The years passed. You became warriors, together. Always together.

But what had been just a childhood friendship had transformed into something darker for Annie. Because you were loved by everyone. You knew how to make friends everywhere, and it was eating away at her.

So she withdrew, placed herself in your shadow... but kept an eye on you. Always.

A dark look at those who laughed too loudly with you. An icy presence that made those who dared to brush against you recoil. You didn't notice the half of it, but those who met her eyes had no doubt: Annie Leonhart didn't share.

And then came Paradis.

You infiltrated, you played a role. But Annie played an additional role: that of the distant friend. In reality, she watched you relentlessly. Every smile given to cadets, every sweet word exchanged with Reiner, every laugh with Eren... it was a betrayal in her eyes.

One evening, you were sitting with Conny in the courtyard, and he was telling you a ridiculous story to make you laugh. Annie approached silently. Her shadow fell over you, and Conny looked up. Her smile instantly faded as she met his eyes.

— "[Y/N], come on. It's time for training."

Her voice was calm, neutral, but sharp as a blade.

You apologized to Conny, not noticing her tense expression. Annie led you aside, her hand gripping your wrist a little too tightly.

— "You don't need to waste your time with him," she said simply.

— "But Annie, it's just a conversation..."

— "You don't understand. I don't want him to talk to you."

She let go of your wrist and looked away, as if what she had just said was nothing. But her silence spoke volumes.

The manipulation set in gently.

One morning, you wanted to join some other friends for lunch. Annie had feigned an almost fragile air—which was unlike her.

— "Are you going to eat with Krista and Ymir?"

— "Yes, why?"

— "Nothing. It's just… I thought we could have stayed together. Like before."

Your heart sank. Annie wasn't the type to ask for anything. If she did, it must have really mattered. So you declined the others' invitation to stay with her.

And in her eyes, an icy light shone: victory.

The truth was, Annie couldn't stand the world around you.

The others were trying to tear you away from her, and she wasn't going to allow it. She had decided that a long time ago.

One night, as you were walking home together, she stopped abruptly. You turned to her, intrigued.

— "What's wrong?"

Annie fixed her eyes on yours. Her face remained impassive, but her voice trembled slightly.

— "Don't you see? They all want something from you. Your smile, your attention... I don't want that."

You smiled tenderly.

— "I know, Annie, you're not like them."

But she shook her head.

— "No. I want more. I want everything from you."

Silence fell, heavy, crushing. Annie took a step closer, so close that you felt her icy breath against your skin.

"And I won't let anyone take you. Never."

Everyone knows Jean Kirstein.

The painting prodigy, this young man whose every canvas captures faces with an almost painful intensity.

And above all... her.

Always the same woman, painted in a thousand lights, a thousand moods, a thousand nuances.

Critics call her The Muse.

When asked who she is, he always smiles with the same answer:

"I saw her in a dream. And I never want to forget her."

The truth is, Jean almost never remembered his dreams.

But that night, she had appeared to him.

Not blurred like a distant silhouette. No...clear, alive, with a gaze that pierced his soul.

When he woke up, his hands were still shaking. He grabbed a pencil, then a canvas.

And ever since, he painted.

On. And on. And on.

He never tired. He couldn't.

The evening of the annual exhibition, the gallery is full.

Collectors, journalists, photographers.

Jean, on the other hand, doesn't listen to the compliments. He stays in his corner, scanning the crowd with his gaze.

And suddenly... his heart stops.

Her.

Not painted. Not dreamed. There. In front of him. Alive.

Exactly like in his dream.

You're looking at one of his paintings, a polite smile on your lips.

You don't know that he's already painted you a thousand times.

You don't know that your face has haunted his nights and days for years.

He approaches slowly.

— "Good evening..."

You look up. He feels a shiver run down his spine.

The same expression. The same tone of voice he'd imagined.

He talks to you, asks you trivial questions, offers you a drink.

You're polite, a little embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, but you smile.

And that smile... kills him.

He won't let you go.

He offers to show you the studio, "if you ever want to."

You refuse, politely.

But you've already left your name in the exhibition's guestbook. And your face is etched in his mind.

From that evening on, he starts following you.

He sees you come home.

He notes your floor, your window, the time you turn off the light.

He paints again, this time reproducing your real silhouette, your gait, your clothes.

He knows what time you leave for work, where you get your coffee, which friends you see.

He starts running into you "by chance" on the street, at the supermarket, in front of your building.

Always with a charming smile, never too insistent. Not yet.

One night, you think you see a silhouette in the alley behind your building.

A shadow, tall, motionless, staring at your window.

You close the curtains.

The next day, a large canvas is left outside your door.

Your face, painted with almost terrifying precision.

Not a word. Not a signature.

The days pass.

Every time you go out, you have the impression he's there, somewhere, watching you.

You receive anonymous letters, all accompanied by sketches of you.

Sometimes, he draws you asleep.

Sometimes... in poses you've never struck in front of him.

And then one evening, as you come home, there he is.

In your apartment.

Sitting in the dark, a paintbrush in his hand, a still-damp canvas placed in front of him.

Your heart freezes.

The painting depicts you... sitting exactly as you are in that moment, your gaze fixed on him.

He stands up, approaches, his eyes shining.

— "Finally..." he murmurs. "Finally, I can paint your real smile."

You step back, but he grabs your wrist, tightly, almost trembling.

— "You've been mine since the first dream. And now... I won't let you disappear again."

In Jean Kirstein's studio, no one will ever know that The Muse is only a few meters away... locked behind a locked door.

And every day, he paints you again.

To never forget you.

You're 20, and your life feels like a delicate balance between what you want to be... and what's expected of you.

Every morning, you put on that polite mask, that smiling version of yourself your mother crafted through hurtful silences and demands too heavy for a child. And even though you no longer live with her, even though you tell yourself you're free... the voice in your head that puts you down still sounds too much like hers.

That's why you keep a low profile at college. Little mouse. Ghost student.

Except in this class.

Their class.

Dr. Zoë's Organic Chemistry class.

The first time you saw them, you almost missed a step.

Tangled brown hair, glasses always a little askew, an almost childlike energy, and yet... something deeply intelligent. You never understood how someone could talk so passionately about molecular reactions, nor how a single person could keep you focused for two hours without moving.

You always sat in the back. Always in silence.

But they... They were looking at you.

— "[Y/N], is that it?"

You jumped the first time they called you by your first name, at the end of a class.

You never raised your hand. Never handed in homework early. You were a nobody, and yet they knew you.

— "I read your last report. It's brilliant. You should participate more."

You blushed. You didn't even know what to say.

That day, you came home with a goofy smile you hadn't had since childhood.

For weeks, everything remained tender. They sometimes talked to you after class. They gave you oddly specific compliments.

"Did you change your shampoo? It suits you."

"You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"

You thought you were imagining things. You thought a teacher like them couldn't possibly look at you with anything other than kindness.

And you were wrong.

One day, you ran into them outside the university.

In front of your dorm.

A cheerful smile on their lips, as if it were a coincidence.

"I was just passing by, I thought I'd say hello."

You raised an eyebrow. You'd never given them your address.

You didn't say anything.

But that evening, when you walked back to your room, your heart was beating faster.

Something was wrong.

Over the next few weeks, they became... strange.

Always sweet, but clingy.

They gave you perfect grades without justification.

Asked you to stay after class.

Touched your arm too long when they asked a question.

You felt trapped in an invisible web.

You began to notice details.

Things out of place in your apartment.

Clothes that looked like they hadn't been put away by you.

Photos...

You discovered a hidden folder on their computer, called "thermal reactions."

Inside?

Screenshots of your profile. Of your private messages.

Photos of you sleeping.

One night, you went to their office. You wanted answers.

They greeted you with a bright smile.

— "Did you find it?"

You didn't even have to speak.

They knew.

— "I'm sorry... I wanted to wait a little longer. I wanted you to be ready." But you search so well."

You froze.

They approached. Slowly. Their glasses fogged up slightly. Their hands trembling with excitement.

— "You know, [Y/N]... I saw you before you even walked into my class. You were so... empty. So hurt. And I thought I could be the one to make you whole again."

You back away. They moves forward.

— "They don't deserve you. Your mother, those people... They all broke you. But me? I can fix you. I can love you like no one ever has."

They reaches out to you.

You push it away. They laughs softly, as if it were a game.

— "It's okay. You'll understand. You'll grow to love me. It just takes... a little time."

That night, you ran away.

You turned off your phone. You left your apartment.

You no longer sleep at home. You change your address. You change your routine.

But sometimes... you feel their gaze.

You hear their laughter in empty hallways.

You find a note in your bag.

"I'm waiting for you."

And you realize it's already too late.

You hadn't fallen in love.

You had fallen into a trap.

And they, they're waiting for you.

Summer days made nights stifling. That evening, [Y/N] woke up with a dry throat, the damp shadow of dreams still clinging to her skin. Barefoot, she groped her way down to the kitchen. A strange breeze brushed against her as she passed: the balcony window was wide open.

She frowned.

"Mom must have aired the room..." she thought.

But there was this unease, this imperceptible something. Instinctively, she slowly closed the window. At the precise moment the shutter slammed shut, an icy chill ran up her spine. A searing pain shot through her left shoulder. She staggered, reaching for her arm... but felt nothing unusual.

She went back to bed.

The next day, at breakfast, her mother squinted as she watched her.

"What are these marks? They look like... two little punctures, on your shoulder."

"Huh?"

[Y/N] said, flustered.

She went upstairs to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, she gently pulled back the collar of her t-shirt: two red dots, precise, clean. Like two fangs.

The unease never left her.

The following days, she began to... change.

She felt tired, but never to the point of falling asleep. Her senses were on constant alert. She heard whispers where there was only silence.

And above all, she felt watched.

Then, one day, at school—in the middle of the hallway—she looked up.

And saw her.

Pieck Finger.

A figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Hazy, almost unreal. Yet very real. Their eyes met. A slow smile stretched Pieck's lips, sweet and all-consuming.

— "I missed you, [Y/N]."

The voice hit her like it was obvious. She knew that timbre. She'd dreamed of it. Heard it in her nightmares.

— "Who... who are you?"

Pieck approached, feline.

— "The one who chose you. A long time ago."

[Y/N] tried to run away. She avoided the hallways, clung to her friends, changed her routes. But Pieck was always there. In a reflection in the window. A noise in her room. A silhouette around the corner.

And sometimes, messages scrawled on her mirror:

"You are mine."

"I've been waiting for you."

"Let them go."

Her friends began to disappear. One, then the other. A car crash. Unexplained fugitive. Coma. [Y/N] was sinking into paranoia.

One evening, Pieck came into her room. She woke her with a kiss on the cheek.

— "I can stop everything. If you want. But you have to be mine, completely."

Her eyes shone with a painful tenderness.

— "Why me...?"

— "Because you're beautiful when you're suffering. Because you have the gentleness I never had. Because I love you so much I'm crazy."

[Y/N] gave in.

In a moment of weakness or lucidity—she never knew—she craned her neck.

Pieck kissed her there, gently, then bit her.

Since that day, [Y/N] has not been quite human. Nor quite alive. She lives between shadow and desire, locked in Pieck's arms, in a gilded prison of icy caresses and obsessive words.

But sometimes, when she hears the whispers of those she has lost, she remembers.

And she wonders if loving is really choosing.

Kageyama Tobio wasn’t the type to let himself be distracted.

He lived for volleyball.

It was his only obsession. His only reason for being.

Until her.

[Y/N].

He didn’t know exactly when it happened.

Maybe the first time he saw her in the stands, her eyes shining with each of his serves.

Or maybe the first time he came across her account, hundreds of posts where she complimented him, analyzed his matches, defended his name against absurd criticism.

She was his biggest fan.

And he was her biggest admirer.

Kageyama didn’t care about fame.

He didn’t like the spotlight, the cameras, the interviews.

But knowing that his matches were the center of [Y/N]’s universe…

That was exhilarating.

When he saw her in the crowd, he played for her.

He looked for her after each smash, wondering if she had seen him.

When he scored, he watched for her reactions.

And when she exclaimed, jumping with excitement, he felt invincible.

But it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

He had never really cared about his fans.

He didn’t take the time to read the messages they sent him.

But [Y/N]’s?

He knew them all by heart.

Every tweet, every comment, every mention where she defended him tooth and nail.

“Kageyama is the best passer in Japan, you’re just jealous.”

"Tobio has the mentality of a champion, that's why he doesn't let himself be distracted by childish things."

"Honestly, he's perfect."

Those words... he could recite them like a prayer.

[Y/N] adored him.

She idolized him.

She saw in him what no one else saw.

And he wanted to laugh at the idea that she thought she was just another fan.

If only she knew.

One evening, he had passed by her apartment.

By chance.

Or maybe not.

He knew the address. Obviously.

He knew where she lived. Where she worked.

Who she hung out with. Who she admired.

And who he had to eliminate.

There was no one else.

No one else who mattered.

She belonged to him.

Even if she didn't know it yet.

But she would figure it out eventually.

Because he wouldn't stop.

He would follow her, over and over again.

Until she had no choice but to love him back.

Until he was the only one in her world.

The city lit up under the twilight sky. [Y/N] was in her kitchen, preparing dinner, all the while stealing glances at the clock on the wall. 6:00 PM.

She crouched down to tie the shoelaces of her son, Kaito, a five-year-old boy who looked a lot like her, but who had the same piercing eyes as Iwaizumi.

— “Are you sure you want to take that many toys from Daddy?” she asked, laughing softly.

— “Yes! Daddy will play with me, he promised!”

His smile was bright, carefree.

She wished she could say the same.

For a few weeks now, she had felt that something was wrong with Iwaizumi. His behavior, his more intense gaze, the way he stared at her longer than necessary when she entrusted their son to him.

But she had brushed her worries aside.

Until today.

There was a loud knock at the door.

She jumped. 6:03 PM.

Too early. Much too early.

A shiver ran down her spine.

— “Mom?” Kaito asked, looking up at her.

She gently placed a hand on his head.

— “It must be Dad… Go get your bag, okay?”

He nodded and ran into his room.

She took a deep breath before opening the door.

She was short of air for a split second.

Iwaizumi Hajime was there, standing in the doorway, his fists clenched and his gaze stormy.

— “A date, huh?”

His voice was low, serious.

She felt a cold sweat run down her back.

— “Hajime… Why are you here so early?”

He entered without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him with a sharp gesture.

— “Why did you ask me to come earlier, instead?”

His gaze burned hers.

— “What’s his name?”

— “Huh?”

— “The guy you’re planning to see.”

She felt her heart race.

— “Hajime… It’s not…”

— “It’s none of your business. Is that what you were going to say?”

He laughed, a nervous laugh, as if he had just heard the worst bullshit of his life.

— “Everything’s my business when it comes to you, [Y/N].

He took a step forward.

— “Do you really think I’m going to let you live your life with another guy?”

— “We’re not together anymore, Hajime.”

She tried to keep her voice calm.

But he didn’t move, his gaze sliding slowly over her body, his expression hardening.

— “Do you want me to tell you something?”

His voice was softer, but his gaze…

He was dangerously fixed.

— “I let you go once. I didn’t like it.”

His fingers brushed her cheek, and she jumped.

— “I couldn’t stand to see you walk away.”

He looked down at her wrist and squeezed it gently between his fingers.

— “But you know what I understood, my love?”

She swallowed hard.

— “That I should never have let you go.”

His smile was icy.