Beyond This World | Various!AOT X F!Reader

01

The sun hangs high in the sky, spilling golden light over the streets, but none of it seems to touch you. You walk slowly, each step echoing with uncertainty, as though the ground beneath your feet could disappear at any moment. The streets are alive with movement—people bustling past, laughter and chatter filling the air—but to you, it's distant. Hollow.

You don't belong here.

That feeling clings to you, a dark whisper that grows louder with every passing minute. You can feel it in the way people look at you, quick glances that dart away just as fast. Their eyes flicker with something—curiosity? Unease? You don't know. No one stops. No one asks if you're alright, and you don't know if you'd even know how to answer if they did.

You're not alright. You're lost.

The market you wander through is vibrant, full of smells that twist your stomach in knots—freshly baked bread, sweet fruits, roasted meats—but it's not comforting. The sounds, the smells, the sights... it all presses down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its weight.

I need to ask someone for help... You think it over and over, the words forming on your tongue, but they never make it past your lips.

What would you say? You don't know where you are. You don't know who you are. The thought of speaking to one of the strangers around you felt like trying to shout into a storm. Pointless. They wouldn't understand, and how could they? You didn't either.

A young woman brushes past you, her basket full of vegetables, and for a fleeting moment, you think of grabbing her arm, asking her—something—anything. But as quickly as the thought comes, it vanishes, swept away by the doubts that grip you. Your hands remain by your side, trembling slightly. You let her walk away without a word.

More time passes, though you're not sure how much. The sun, once so high, is beginning to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets. The warmth of the day is fading, replaced by a chill that creeps through the air, sinking into your skin. You try to shield yourself with your arms, but it doesn't help. The cold seems to have settled inside you, deep in your bones.

Your legs ache from walking, and hunger gnaws at your stomach, sharp and insistent. You don't remember the last time you ate—have you ever even eaten?—but the thought of food is distant, a faint whisper compared to the ache of exhaustion that pulls at your limbs.

You pause in the middle of a small square, surrounded by stone houses with wooden roofs, and watch as the last of the market stalls are packed away. The streets grow quieter, the lively energy of the day giving way to the stillness of the evening.

Where do I go now?

The question stabs at you, cold and cruel. You don't have an answer. The streets are unfamiliar, twisting in ways that you can't comprehend. You've been walking for hours, but every turn feels the same. Every face, every building—it all blurs together into a maze with no exit.

You press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing. It's getting harder to keep the panic at bay. Your thoughts spin in circles around the same questions, each one more frantic that the last. You want to cry, but the tears won't come. There's only the cold, the hunger, and the growing dread.

As if in response to your despair, the sky darkens. Clouds roll in, thick and heavy, hiding the last traces of sunlight. The first drops of rain are small, barely noticeable, but soon they become more insistent, pattering against the stones with a soft, rhythmic sound.

You flinch as the rain begins to soak through the thin fabric of your dress. Your skin prickles under the biting breeze, and your hair clings to your face, wet and heavy. The streets empty faster now, people hurrying indoors, trying to find shelter from the downpour. You stand frozen, watching them disappear one by one, until you're left alone once again, surrounded by the relentless sound of rain.

The wind picks up, sharp and numbing. Your teeth begin to chatter, and you loose sensation on your fingers. Desperation claws at you. You need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere away from the cold, the rain, and the growing darkness of the night.

Your feet move on their own, carrying you back into a narrow alleyway, one of many that crisscross the town. The walls here are high and close together, the air damp with the smell of wet stone. You huddle against one of the walls, trying to protect yourself from the rain, to no avail. The breeze howls through the alley, whipping your damp hair into your face.

You curl into yourself, knees pulled to your chest. The stone beneath you is icy, making you shiver uncontrollably, your body trembling from exhaustion.

A sob escapes your lips, small and pitiful, but it's enough to crack the dam holding back your tears. You bury your face in your arms, shoulders shaking as the sobs come harder now, wracking your small frame. The tears are hot against your cold skin, but they don't bring any relief. They only deepen the ache in your chest, the terrible, hollow emptiness that you can't explain.

You don't have anywhere to go. You're stuck here, hoping you don't die from hypothermia before the sun gets up in the morning.

The fear that's been lurking at the edges of your mind finally swallows you. It's too much, too overwhelming for someone so young. So you do the only thing you can for now, you cry until there's no more tears to shed.

You don't know how long you sit there, curled up in the cold, wet alley. Time seems to blur again, the minutes stretching into an eternity. The sobs come less frequently now, but the fear remains, eating at you, a constant, insistent weight.

Then, through the haze, you hear voices.

At first, they're faint, muffled by the rain and the pounding of your heart in your ears. But they grow closer, louder, until you can make out two distinct voices—one calm and gentle, the other fierce and impatient.

You lift your head, eyes heavy with fatigue. At the beginning of the alley, two figures stand, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening. A boy with short brown hair and determined eyes, stands next to a smaller, blond-haired boy. They're walking in your direction, yet they didn't seem to have noticed you yet.

The brown-haired boy's voice is the first you can make out clearly, frustrated and full of energy.

"Come on, Armin! What's the holdup?"

The blond boy—Armin—pauses, his gaze finally meeting yours, his gaze widening in surprise. He nudges his companion, whispering something you can't hear over the rain. The other boy follows his gaze, his expression shifting to one of confusion.

You don't move. You don't know what to do, and your body is too cold, too weak, to try.

They're getting closer now. And you can feel it—the strange pull, the sense that they're somehow familiar, even though you've never seen them before, at least from what you remember.

Your breath catches in your throat as the taller boy steps forward, his brows furrowed.

"Hey... you're okay?"

And just like that, the world shifts again.