Annie Leonhardt x Reader

Please Be... My Alibi [part 2]

"At least the Scouts are actually trying to accomplish something!" you retort.

"And how long have they been working toward the same goal? It's not worth getting yourself killed for." When you don't respond, she taps your leg underneath the table with her foot. "Think about how many of the Scouts die every mission. How can you guarantee that you won't be one of them?"

You cross your arms in indigence. "I'll keep fighting."

"You're not Eren Jaeger," she tells you flatly. She doesn't elaborate beyond that, but she's right.

You don't have Titan superpowers. You don't even have the same unstoppable spirit or half as much of a drive as he does. You're not Eren Jaeger, but... if this isn't a calling then you're not sure you've ever had one.

After seeing action, you aren't going to be satisfied playing it safe on the sidelines. You can't stand the idea of your everyday life becoming standing around to fulfill orders. The Wall Garrison is full of glorified security guards when it comes down to it.

You want to be a part of something real, something that could make a difference. You know Annie won't understand even if you explain til you're blue in the face. She says to stay alive, to stay safe, but she also tells you to live. How can you justify throwing your life away down a career path that you know is going to leave you miserable? You don't want to join the Garrison.

The Scouts feel like your only real option. You don't have the top ten to whisk you away into MP service, and your only other option is running away. And you're so very tired of running. Where exactly is there left to go, anyway? The walls are starting to feel very cramped.

All you know is that you want Annie in your future somehow.

The night before graduation, you go to bed filled with anxiety that she's going to ignore you up until the very last second you have with her. Then you'll never get to see her again.

Okay, you'll see her again. But if she won't even say goodbye, would it even be something you're excited for?

You fall asleep imagining what it would be like if she was there with you. You think back to every time it had happened in the past, and you try to recall the feeling of her arms around you. What it felt like to have her embracing you, stroking your hair, easing you into sleep. It's the only way you can get there.

Your sleep is light and fitful, as it had been all week. You spend long times with your eyes closed but not always sleeping. It's a little miserable, to be honest. You're tossing and turning in and out of consciousness. Then, the sound of a knock at the window startles you fully awake.

At first, you thought you had imagined it, so you roll over and snuggle into your blankets. But then you hear another knock, more frantic – or insistent, maybe? – makes you bolt awake and look around. Sure enough, in the hazy light from the streetlamps, there's a figure hanging outside of the second-story window of the room you're staying in.

Then, you think it's some odd kind of dream. Not quite a nightmare, but you're used to having half-baked ideas or fears manifesting in your subconscious. You look down at your hands, trying to figure out if you're dreaming or not.

Another knock comes from the window, more insistent this time. Throwing your blankets aside, you make your way across the room to undo the latch. Your visitor was pulling on the window from the outside, so you barely have to put any effort into hoisting it open – only for you to hop aside as you're nearly kicked in the face. They come in boots first, and as you're hit in the face and arms with the grappling hooks you realize they're strapped into a full set of 3DM gear.

"What are you doing?" you ask loudly.

The figure shushes you, and when you try to speak again, slaps a hand over your mouth. You land on your back with the intruder straddling you. It's a little overly familiar, and your first instinct is to struggle. Was this a robbery, or worse, an assault? You struggle hard until your hands are pinned above your head, and in the process, the hood of their cloak is thrown back.