My late hero Eren x reader ( completed )

Dreamland to Drill Grounds

The dawn was a harbinger of dread, each ray of light stretching its fingers across the room with a foreboding touch. My anxiety over training was more than just the rigorous drills; it was the gnawing fear of causing harm, of failing and being cast out from the Corps. This morning, I was jolted awake not by the gentle prodding of an alarm, but by the grinning face of Sasha. A less-than-ideal way to start the day.

"Wake up! You're late!" Sasha's voice boomed, shattering the fragile cocoon of my sleep. I blinked awake, disoriented, and instantly felt the rush of time slipping away.

"Oh no, I'm so late! Why didn't anyone wake me?" I demanded, a thread of panic weaving through my words.

Sasha waved off my distress with a casual shrug. "Well, we tried, but you kept murmuring someone's name. We figured you'd enjoy the extra sleep. And, by the way, the faces you made were rather adorable."

The fragments of my dream flitted through my mind, each one more embarrassing than the last. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks, and I hastily masked my discomfiture with my usual blank expression.

"Stop with the nonsense! I would never—"

"Wait a second!" I interrupted myself, scrambling out of bed. "I have to get ready!" I hurled myself towards the bathroom, barely pausing to brush my hair before dashing out the door, my uniform hastily donned. I arrived at the training grounds, breathless and disheveled, just two minutes behind schedule.

The proctor's ire met me immediately. "Why the hell are you late?"

His voice was like a whip crack, sharp and jarring. I forced myself to maintain a stoic facade, despite the jolt of fear that surged through me. I stood tall and saluted, projecting as much confidence as I could muster. "Sir, I'm late because I was doing some extra training, sir!"

The proctor's scowl deepened. "Too bad, little shit. You're still two minutes late. As punishment, you won't spar with the other trainees."

Relief flickered in my chest—perhaps I'd escape the worst of it. But then the proctor's next words doused my fleeting hope.

"You're fighting me instead. Move it, little shit!"

I approached him, deliberately slow, buying precious seconds. We squared off, and I raised my hands, my stance light and ready. A group of trainees formed a circle around us, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Keith took advantage of my distraction, delivering a swift kick to my leg. I tumbled to the ground, and his laughter, harsh and mocking, followed me.

"That's what happens when you're late, little shit," he jeered.

Ignoring the sting of his words, I pushed myself up and resumed my position, my gaze now steely and focused. Keith's silent chuckle echoed in the tense air.

"Getting serious now won't change anything, shithead," he taunted.

I ignored him, my eyes fixed with unwavering intensity. As Keith charged, I sidestepped his punch with a fluid motion, redirecting his fist and retaliating with a kick to his shin. He staggered, and I followed up with an elbow to his back. I looked down at him, my expression impassive.

"Hope you had fun, but it's over now," I said coldly. Realizing my rudeness, I quickly amended, "I-I apologize if I went overboard."

Keith, now dusted with dirt, slowly rose. His gaze softened slightly. "That's what you call payback. Good work today, Candidate. You get an A for this subject. You're free for the rest of the day."

Before I could express my gratitude, Keith's voice cut through the air, loud and commanding. "Now, the rest of you, get back to work!"