WITH YOU. ❛ eren yeager.

i.

i. to you, 2,000 years in the future.

You never planned to be a soldier. You never planned to wear the wings of freedom, to venture beyond the walls or journey into a path of revenge and hatred.

No, that's not what you had been told to be. Your parents didn't see such a role fitting for you-too unsavory, too reckless. What if you were put outside the wall? What if you died fighting against a titan? You had grown with the lie of promised sanctuary thrown into your head your entire life.

But the cage you called home was always destined to collapse, wasn't it?

Somewhere, deep in the pits of your mind and tucked away in a feared place, you knew what was possible. You'd heard the whispers of men and women when the Scouts came home, a fraction of what they'd left with. Bruised, battered, nothing but limbs of their fallen comrades to signify their deaths. Sometimes it frightened you to the point you couldn't sleep at night, wondering when your time would come. What part of you would they find, what part of your body would be recognized as yours?

But you were just a child. You shouldn't have to worry about these things, according to the adults. The walls are strong. The walls will keep you safe. But sometimes...you pondered the question: how safe are we?

"Does it hurt here?"

You grimace at the touch of Doctor Yeager's fingers on your ankle. His touch is gentle, but the pain seeps through you at the smallest amount of pressure. "I'll take that as a yes," he comments, offering you that kind smile you've grown to place with him. He's a doctor, it's his job to make you feel comforted. Friendly, practical.

Carla Yeager, his dear wife, soothes your tears away with a tissue and a gentle rub to the back. "How did you do this again? Nothing to do with Eren, I hope?"

You giggle slightly, shaking your head dismissively. "No, Mrs. Yeager, I was running an errand for my uncle and the Garrison soldiers had spilled something everywhere. I slipped," you sigh, "soldiers are messy."

Doctor Yeager chuckles at your assessment, "yes, they very much are," he pauses to retrieve a wrap for your ankle, "they're more useful than they seem, I promise you."

You agree with him because you know that despite the Garrison's lack of...efforts, there are soldiers who you know are dying to protect you. Spending their lives ensuring your safety.

He helps you slip your shoe on over the wrap and your swollen ankle. "There, now as long as you get plenty of rest and don't put too much pressure on this, it'll heal just fine."

The door opens behind you, just as he helps you get to your feet, and in rushes the pair Carla had been waiting for when you arrived. "Y/N, are you okay?" Mikasa's voice is gentle, yet so collected.

Eren on the other hand was always able to pull his temper out before he even knew what had happened to you.

"What happened? Did someone –

"I'm okay, I just slipped," you turn back to his father, thanking him for his help, "can you help me down the stairs?"

"Walk her home, okay? Make sure she gets there safely, honey," Carla tells him, smiling softly at you.

Eren knows better than to insist you allow him to help you, because he knows you have a gift of downplaying your own pain to help others. He waits until you slip your arm through his, once the swelling starts to pulsate with each step you take.

The two of you walk along, Eren listening to you promise you'll bake something for them in return for his father's help.

"You know it's fine to get help, he doesn't mind, you don't owe us anything," he reminds you, chuckling at the pout on your face.