The night had that lazy kind of energy — half laughter, half exhaustion. Someone had turned the lights low in Jean’s living room, and the group had migrated into a circle on the floor surrounded by empty soda cans, chips, and half-broken party decorations.

“Kiss, marry, kill,” Connie said, grinning like he’d just invented chaos. “Classic. No skipping names.”

Everyone groaned, but nobody left.

Eren rolled his eyes, Mikasa looked vaguely like she regretted showing up.

Names started flying. Stupid comments, too.

“Kill Jean, obviously,” or “You can’t marry three people, Sasha—”

The laughter spilled easy until it was your turn.

Connie leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Alright, your three are—” he checked his list “—Sasha, Jean… and Reiner.”

Reiner, sitting cross-legged near the couch, blinked and gave a low laugh, trying to play it cool. Bertholdt just hid behind his drink.

“C’mon,” Jean said, smirking. “No backing out now.”

Everyone’s watching you now — waiting. You feel Reiner’s eyes on you too.

“So,” Connie grinned. “Kiss, marry, kill — what’s it gonna be?”