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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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TRACK 01 ❥ RIDE • J. KIRSCHTEIN

your love with jean didn’t start out with perfect beginnings but he’ll make certain it has the story book ending.

❥ content + warnings: paramedic!jean, patient liaison reader (black coded), mentions of illness, pain, etc, very brief mention of infidelity, Jean being a complete lover boy, he has a heavy country/creole accent (he speaks French once or twice) hotel sex, alcohol use, fingering, foot play, bondage, dirty talk, squirting, blindfold, wax play, pet names (my love, my girl, sweetheart) daddy kink + heavy dom, nipple play, breeding/pregnancy, mating press

word count: 6.2K

“Take off those heels, lay on my bed…whisper dirty secrets while I’m pulling on your hair..”

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there were so many words that could be used to describe the enigma of a man that was Jean Kirschtein. For the longest, he was a mystery to you..not being able to take him one way or the other. You couldn’t quite figure him out or really see him for who he truly was. And just when you’d thought you had him all figured out; pegged as one thing, he swayed your mind in the opposite direction. Granted, that was before you knew him beyond being your ex’s homeboy. Keeping yourself at arm’s bay from any man that wasn’t him as to not make him jealous. Of course, that was prior to learning that it wasn’t Jean or anyone else you had to worry about. It was him. It was only a year and a half ago that you learned the heartbreaking news of your ex’s infidelity and by the mouth of none other than Jean himself. It came as such a shock to you that as he spoke, you found yourself almost collapsing onto the pavement but he quickly caught you. You’d never felt so humiliated and betrayed before in your life. The weight of it was almost too much for you to bare..that was until Jean caught you within his grasp and never let go! He assured you that Connie or no other man would ever harm you again as long as he was around. A promise he kept true to..even severing ties with his best friend altogether. It was easy by no means and you felt guilty for being the reason their friendship ended but the only thing you were met with was laughter and a very simple statement in response:

“Any man that could hurt a beautiful woman like you could never be my friend.”

that wasn’t all though..as Jean explained, the two of them began falling out over his constant womanizing and cheating. Granted, he was no saint himself and the two of them were no strangers to having multiple ladies in their lives or even having threesomes with them. But all of that changed when Connie got with you…or so he claimed! Turns out, he only amped up his infidelity through the roof and left you in the dark about all of it. Jean, although a bit of a ladies man himself, couldn’t sit idly by and allow you to be harmed by his actions. But honestly, none of that mattered now. Hell, it all seemed like a far off past that you had but repressed from your memory. Especially when Jean had all but spent this last year and some change not only atoning for Connie’s mistakes but treating you like the absolute goddess you were. The two of you were both employed by the same hospital; you worked as a patient liaison who saw to the non medical needs of the patients. Ensuring that they knew how much they were being billed and offering assistance if it were needed, making certain that their rooms were up to par, even helping out with diet plans..if someone were vegetarian or pescetarian, you’d relay the message to the kitchen staff and make sure they’d have those options for them. It was equally as important as their medical care and it was a job you did exceptionally well. It most certainly took a special person! Which Jean appreciated and respected when he watched you work..always so kind and empathetic. It was no wonder why he felt the innate sense to spoil you in return.

he himself worked as an EMT. Transporting patients to and from the hospital, dealing with high stress situations and quite frankly, enjoying every bit of the adrenaline rush that ensued. Sometimes, it was so intense, he questioned if he were meant to pursue this. But you were his safe haven and once he was with you, he felt as if he could conquer the world!

however, just for the evening…you were setting aside your workplace concerns and stories to be solely devoted to one another. It was a rather special occasion, for many reasons. One being Valentine's Day. And the other? The six month anniversary since you guys began seeing one another officially. When he asked you out after a late night shift and you found yourselves at one of your favorite spots to eat. He handed you a small gift and asked properly; despite hooking up several times prior. Stating that he knew it wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he just couldn’t wait to make you his. It was so thoughtful, you nearly burst into tears right there. Fast forward and life only got better! You had never experienced love the way you had with Jean..endless affection, fancy dates when permitted, small gestures to brighten your day and of course, sex on an entirely different level! This man knew your body like the back of his hand and he always knew the right things to do to make you tick and turn you on. Still, he’d always have his reservations. He wanted to prove that you were worth far more than late night rendezvouses and backseat hookups. He wanted to give you the absolute world on a platter. A goal he had in mind as he made his way to your place; a small house you shared with an older sister and nephew. He pulled that blacked out two seater up to the curb of your driveway..hopping out to open the passenger door just as you made your appearance!

“Well..my my..and they say goddesses don’t walk this earth. I’d hafta’ disagree..not when my baby exists.”

your face completely flushed in a sheath of warmth and your stomach fluttered with butterflies as you flashed that pearly smile and strutted closer. He wasn’t exaggerating because to say you looked divine, wouldn’t be an understatement! Face done up in the most beautiful shimmers and red lipstick that complimented that beautiful dark skin tone, those normally tight curls styled into an updo and gleaming jewelry he had brought dangled from your neck and ears. Dressed in a thigh length red dress with a slit on the right side, tall, strappy heels that wrapped around your calves and a handbag to match. However, you wouldn’t be opening that unless it were to touch up your makeup. Because he had plans that involved spoiling you rotten in more ways than one..and best believe he wasn’t empty handed when getting out to greet you either. No, he was brandishing what seemed to be the largest bouquet of roses he could find!

“You’re way too sweet, baby..thank you!”

“No such thing..here, these are for you, my love. Happy Valentines..and anniversary.”

delicately lacing your cheek with a peck..accepting them, you’d thank him once more and right there, in return..shove your tongue between his lips whilst caressing his cheek. Jean would feel the rush of ecstasy that came with your touch rush his veins. Each kiss, hug and caress took his breath away. Needless to say, dinner was merely the appetizer to the main course to which his pallet desired!..

“Ready to hit the town, my lady?” Garnering quite the adorable giggle from you. He was such a charmer..constantly wooing you despite the relationship nearing a year old.

“Well of course, sir. Lead the way.” you’d return his sentiment, grinning from ear to ear. With that, he’d make haste in opening the door and allowing you to take your seat in the passenger’s side, easing you in. And afterwards, he’d make his own way back to the drivers to start up the ignition. Tonight was sure to be one that would forever be embedded into your memory and heart for many years to come..

page break and time skip

“Jean Rene Kirschtein, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you..dammit, and I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”

the only response that you could muster at the moment as you cupped a hand across your mouth, feigning tears and hysterics as you glared down at the crushed velvet box, seated in your lap. Inside, resided a sparkling ring..glistening with princess cut diamonds and a twenty four karat silver band. It was absolutely gorgeous and not to mention..all yours. A piece of jewelry that set him back about nine hundred or so dollars but it was fitting for a promise ring. Not to mention all the other countless gifts he had bestowed upon you tonight. Once he dropped to that knee, there would be no expense spared. He’d grasp your hand as he reached across the table and intertwined your fingers. After he slipped it on for you.

“Well, you could start by drying those pretty eyes of yers’…no need to cry, baby. You deserve this and so much more..” the words permeated your ears and heart like arrows shit directly from Cupid himself. Currently, the two of you were at the rooftop restaurant stationed at the Blaise Hotel, located on the opposite side of town and near the outskirts. It was so lavish yet so intimate at the same time…dim blue illumination outlined the cursive sign hung atop the building. Marble and gold embellished the lobby and everything was so beautiful. It was rather apparent that Jean had spared no expenses when it came to making this night as special as possible. To say you were grateful would be an understatement. “Listen..I know that you and I didn’t exactly start this thing off right and hell, maybe in another life, ya’ would’ve been mine in the first place. But (y/n), baby. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure that I’ll be your last. One day, I wanna replace this with the real thing. I wanna marry ya’, have some babies..grow old together. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I love you.”

and you knew that he meant every single word that left his mouth. Unlike your ex, there was no doubt that you were his one and only. And you were about to see the great lengths he was willing to go to just to prove that!

“I love you more, Jean..thank you, for making this past year or so, the best I’ve ever had. You pulled me out of a dark place when everyone else was willing to let me sit there..you did things for me that you didn’t have to and I’m forever grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve to be this happy but…I hope it never ends.” Ending your speech by hoisting your glass, in hopes of not becoming emotional once more. The two of you would toast and take generous swigs of that red Cabernet. Sweet yet strong and the perfect beverage for an occasion like this. “Well..it’s as my granny used ta’ say..’ Même toutes les étoiles du ciel ne pourraient pas briller aussi fort que toi, ma bien-aimée.” Meaning that you shined brighter than any star in the sky and he wanted to spend all night showing you just how special you were to him. Because unbeknownst, there was a second portion to your surprise. One that would undoubtedly embed this night in your mind for a very long time.

“Say, why don’t we get outta here and head upstairs? I gotta lil’ something for you.” Whilst you were finishing up the remnants of your wine, Jean stood from his seat; righter leaving both the bill and hefty tip inside of a black leather booklet. There was no need for you to concern yourself with it or the price inside. This was your night..to be celebrated, to be spoiled and to be loved properly. Something he planned to do in more ways than one. Grasping your hand and the cusp of your arm with the gentlest touch, he’d help you from your seat and pushed it back in. The signs of a true southern gentleman if you’d ever seen one. You knew that his folks had raised him right in the way he carried himself. Although you’d seen Jean act the fool as any twenty something year old boy would, he was always so polite and respectful. Always holding doors, never making you lift a finger to do anything and of course, charmed you to no end. “A lil’ something, huh? Something tells me you went all out..again!” Teasing him as the two of you exited the rooftop to take an elevator down to your suite. Hand in hand with your free one occasionally raising up to stroke his chest. As his own, cradled your waist..holding you close.

“Now now, sweetheart…a man never reveals his secrets. You just relax and let me worry about everything.”

honestly, there was no attesting Jean once he got something set in his head. He was stubborn but there was never a moment where he didn’t see something through to fruition. He also had the habit of sparing no expense to take care of someone else. Maybe that’s what made him such a great first responder..and lover. He was a dominant man. Not the possessive or overbearing type but rather the kind to step up to the plate and handle business without so much as a second thought. Which is why you felt so safe and secure around him..for once, it felt nice to be soft..vulnerable. To let your guard down and let someone else take the lead. So with that, accepting his answer, you’d await patiently as the elevator descended and the down arrow illuminated. Finally, it would come to a halt on the fourth floor..where Jean stepped out first to offer up his hand so he could guide you along. Your heels clicked briefly against the tile flooring before it quickly transitioned to carpet. The hall was decorated with vibrant white and blue paints, vivid imagery plastered onto paintings and sleek, modern lighting illuminated the path to the rooms stationed on the right side. Although Jean’s chivalry seemed to be never ending, there was another reason as to why he was so adamant of stepping ahead of you.

“Before we go inside…there’s one more thing I have for ya..turn around.”

414. The room number in which you two would be residing for the evening..although, you were certain not much sleeping would be taking place. You were stopped in your tracks right by the door as he grasped your hand. Even so, you’d do as your man instructed and spin until your back was facing him. It was then that he’d instruct you to step forward and fully devoting your trust in him, you knew he’d guide you in the right direction. With those strong hands cradling your waist, you’d step forward until you heard the door close behind you. A couple more steps and you could hear soft music playing..until you felt your calves graze what seemed to be a soft cushion of sorts.

“Take a seat, sweetheart..I’m right here.” That deep drawl ringing out in your ear and sending shivers tingling up your spine. Upon bending down to let your backside hit the bed, you’d await his next command. Patently and completely devoted to him. You trusted Jean, more than anyone. So you’d do exactly as he instructed. With your hands resting on your thighs, (y/n) sat straight upright as you felt his fingertips grazing your shoulder blades. You could feel his breath against your neck and his stubble just barely grazing your skin.. “..you’re so beautiful, baby. Ya’ know that? God, I feel like I don’t ever get to say it enough.” His voice dropped to a low vibrato as he continued caressing you. Soaking you in, drinking in your scent and just enjoying being in your presence. Taking his sweet time to fill your head with all of those beautiful words..affirming the things he felt about you on a daily basis. Whilst he did so, Jean’s lips trailed further south. Going from your neck to your shoulders..where he removed the straps of your dress and slid them down gently. His hands trailed the sides of your body and every square inch where he removed an article of clothing, he replaced it with subtle pecks. You couldn’t see a thing but you could feel it all..the warmth of his breath against your flesh, your ensemble slowly slipping away from you and his hands roaming around your torso. Including those supple breasts. Your nipples had begun to stiffen up as he toiled with them between his fingertips. You’d raise your hand to caress his head as it rested on your shoulder. Whilst toying with your newly exposed tits, Jean continued nipping at your ear and rattling off in it. Only this time, his words were far more risqué than before!..

“..ya’ know..I planned this night out in my head several times. I thought of all the ways I wanted to make love to you. How I’d be all gentle and sweet with ya’..but I gotta be honest, sweetheart…”

it was in the midst of his speech did you feel that same hand snake down between your legs and part them with a single pop to your thighs. His movements switched from delicate to a slightly bit rough in only a matter of seconds! He couldn’t hold back any longer..he needed you. He craved you..and desperately!

“..I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. I know that’s not all sweet and romantic. But I can’t help it..I just wanna give you what you deserve. The type of dick you should’ve been getting a long time ago, baby.” Whilst his words seeped to your head, your core was feeling the effects as well. With that center exposed as he tugged your thong to the side, it was no secret that you were already leaking from the sound of his voice and teasing alone. That was exactly where he wanted you! Vulnerable, soft..melting within his grasp. “..Jeannn…” “shh, shhh it’s okay..” He didn’t want you to do a thing. So much so, it wasn’t long before you felt your wrists being bound together in front of you as well. Right now, you were completely under his control and you could bet, that trust you placed in him wasn’t something he was going to take lightly or abuse. He would spend every waking second he had within this room pleasing you to the utmost of his ability.

“..god, those titties are so pretty, sweetheart. I just wanna suck on those nipples, get them hard.” Declaring as he gently grabbed your already sensitive buds and squeezed. He could sense that your body was already coming undone and he hadn’t even begun to toy with you yet! But alas, you had all night and you could fall apart as many times as you needed to..he’d be right there to put you back together! “And this pussy…fuck, it’s so wet for me already…” it was blatantly obvious that he was in the mood to play the long game. To spend hours if needed to build you up to your breaking point, only because he knew the release would be that much sweeter. “Yer’ gonna feel so good, I just know it..” In a sheer moment of haste, your lover would tear that dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a slip of paper. Soon, every other article of clothing would follow suit shortly after and Jean was quick to make his next move. Pulling you back towards his chest; still clothed with the black button down, he’d snake that tattooed arm down the center of your torso. Where he’d revel in toying with your slit. Spreading those puffy lips apart with his index and middle fingers. The sensation of cool air immediately made contact with that dripping warmth and needless to say, you were shivering instantly. Whimpering and huffing as he massaged that clit. Rubbing yourself against those finger pads and grinding on it. Pushing up and slowly gliding back down when he added a single finger. With just that one digit alone, you began writhing and begging him for more but it wasn’t time..you weren’t ready. “Baby, you can barely even take my finger right now…look at how she’s squeezing me.” Chuckling as he watched your movements. You had a habit of being restless..once you became aroused, nothing could tame that salacious appetite except the most intense, passionate sex that he could offer. “I knowww, but pleaseee—“ “..if you know then let me take care of you. Cut it out.” cooing into your ear and reaffirming his point with a gentle hand around your throat. “So are ya’ gonna relax and lemme handle it, sweetheart? Tell me..” and with that subtle dominance, what other choice did you have? That unwavering resolve of his wore you down rather quickly. “Yes, daddy..please take care of me..” “..that’s my pretty girl..” But alas, the foreplay and teasing was far from finished! Keeping you reigned to his chest, Jean continued to work that little cunt over with calculated touches and subtle pushes. Pressing into that sensitive core..his knuckles would become coated in that sticky sex, hoping to drum up more as he persisted. For now, he was ready to move on to his next task on the docket! His movements would come to a halt and suddenly you’d find yourself spasming on nothing more than air. It left you with a yearning..a longing for more. As you awaited his next move, he’d prompt you to open your mouth before placing those fingers between your lips and allowing you to not only clean them off but pacify those pathetic whimpers. “Taste yourself..there ya’ go. So fucking sweet..” You were still shielded from all the surroundings, your eyes covered by that satin cloth. Drool would seep from (y/n)’s jaws and shallow breaths escaped your throat. It was apparent that you were close but prolonging that orgasm would only make the moment that much better. For now, he had but one simple command:

“Hands in front of ya’, sweetheart.” The sharp tone in his voice causes a tingle to trickle down your spine. But naturally, you complied..submitting yourself to him entirely. Once you place your arms to your stomach, you’d find your wrists bound and tightly secured. You were completely at his will and before he proceeded, he’d reposition you to the mattress, placing you flat on your back..as you laid there, sprawled out and completely exposed, the gentle, familiar brush of his fingertips grazed your cheek yet again. Your arms, now outstretched and lying dormant above your head. You had no way of telling what it was that your boyfriend was planning..no sense of your surroundings but that was the entire point. He wanted complete autonomy over you..ensuring that you could trust him and for the next thing he had planned, he wanted you to be fully submissive to him.

“M’ gonna need you to hold still f’r me. Okay, sweetheart? You’re gonna feel a lil’ something dripping..and I want you to let me know if it hurts. You trust me..right?” without a shadow of a doubt, the answer was clear but he wanted to hear you say it. He needed that explicit consent that you wanted this just as badly. Just above your swollen, erect nipples, something hovered about you. It felt warm..which led you to one conclusion:

“Yes..please. Do it.”

and with that, he’d proceed! Brandishing in his hand was an already illuminated candle..one of which was already flickering upon your arrival to the room, as he had requested. This one was beginning to melt but to help speed up the process, Jean retrieved a lighter from his pocket. The same one he used to ignite his cigarettes and blunts on very rare occasions. A sterling silver one with his initials engraved..sparking the flame, the sandy blonde took both items and dangled them only inches from your body. Your frame wiggled around on the bed in anticipation; your chest heaving but breath shallow…you could sense what was coming and for a brief moment, the room fell silent. That’s when it happened…

plop!

the single sound of a wax droplet making contact with your flesh. Your reaction followed a split second later as you sucked your teeth and whimpered. He had to make certain that it wasn’t painful to you. But all reservations subsided when underneath the flicker of that flame, he’d watch that gorgeous smile appear and suddenly, he was at ease and confident that he could keep going! “How’d it feel, mama? That didn’t hurt, did it?” Cooing with a swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he awaited your response. “Y-yeah..but it felt so good! Please…more.” And he didn’t hesitate! Jean continued whittling down that candle with his flames. Soon, the beads multiplied as they fell and before long, your gorgeous dark complexion was marked with cream colored, hardened splatters of wax. Akin to a portrait, you were like a masterpiece..one he wanted to frame and keep forever. Your tits gently swaying as you squirmed around and the sounds of your adorable giggles, along with the lilt in your voice was satisfying enough for your boyfriend. Those beautiful nipples protruding and hardened beyond belief, only caused you to squirm as he grazed them. “That feel good, my love?” “Yes! So good..thank you!” That single show of gratitude made the tent in his pants grow larger..as well as his desire for you! He was fighting the urge to strip down and fuck you senseless right now but he was almost where he wanted you. Where he needed you..

“Good..that’s all I wanna hear..”

just then, Jean would kneel into the mattress to propel himself up. Only after he set aside the candle and lighter, extinguishing both. Where he’d begin to undress. Peeling off his clothing layer by layer. You’d hear the sound of that designer belt buckle clinking as he unfastened it. Tossing it to the floor first and his pants followed suit. Next was his button down he undone. His shoes and everything until he was sporting nothing but that gold Rolex and rings that looked so aesthetically pleasing as it contrasted your skin. Lying a flat palm on your thigh when he crawled back up and parted them. He had been waiting for this moment. Biding his time in anticipation for what was to come..he’d often spend his shifts thinking about you. Trying to feign off his thoughts and desires because he knew he’d have you soon enough. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. On one hand, slow, sensual lovemaking underneath the candles…feeding you gentle strokes. And on the other hand? Pounding you into this mattress until you made a mess of him! Squirting and leaking all over this bed until you convulse of one too many powerful orgasms..

“So tell me, sweetheart? What is it that you want now? Just looking at ya’…I can tell you’re hungry for more. You’re leaking, baby..” teasing as he brushed over that mound and only a mere inch away from that clit. He’d resort to spreading you open again just for his own pleasure. Whispering and murmuring as he sucked his teeth in awe of the sight. He couldn’t believe it..how silky and wet you were.. “..goddamn..look at that. So beautiful..would look even better with me inside of you. Don’t ya’ agree, baby?” Prompting you to lick your lips and nod profusely. You were so needy, you were practically rutting yourself on thin air..seeing as how he refused to directly touch it. Afraid it’d send you flying over the edge if he did. He needed that reaction strictly for himself. He wanted to see you twitching, squirming and writhing all on his cock. “Yeah..fuck..I do..” those pathetic little whines only fueling him more. So much so, as he kept you speaking, he’d coil the base of his shaft and stroke upward as he awaited his answers. “Then convince me, baby. Tell me where ya’ want daddy to put it. Where you need me right now. C’mon, talk to me..”

and you spared no details! You’d quickly plead for him to spread you open and fill you full of his cock. To stretch you out and make you conform to his shape. What couldn’t fit, he better make you take it..that nut? He knew exactly where you wanted it. You wanted him to completely wreck you tonight!

“So that’s how it is? That’s what you feel?” “Yes, baby!..come fuck this pussy, please..” it was obvious that you were becoming anxious and Jean was aching so badly from his own edging that if he didn’t get inside of something soon, he was going to explode. So with one forceful tug, he’d bridge the gap of space between your bodies before placing a leg on your shoulder and folding you back.

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want..this is your dick after all.” Chuckling with a smile on his face, it didn’t take long before his tip was brushing against your slit and casually rubbing on that bud to further stimulate you. “So take it..” suddenly, that subtle teasing turned into full blown penetration! You’d find yourself stuffed to the brim and the gasp and expletives that simultaneously left both of your mouths signified just how good it felt. His thick length throbbing inside of your heat and that tight cunt clutching him upon entry. As if you two were designed for one another. “F-fuck..gonna start moving, baby..you ready?” He didn’t have to see your eyes to know your reaction..it was written all over your facial and body language. You’d give him the go ahead and seconds later, Jean would grasp your waist to keep you steady as he began thrusting up into you. Sounds of smacking skin along with faint moans arose and filled the air. He had to pace himself..go far slower than he would like to if he were going to last any amount of time. Long, deep, well paced strokes were the best move right now. And did he make certain you felt each one!

“G’ahh..so tight, baby..this pussy’s squeezing me..” tossing his head back on his shoulders, Jean would persist and push through the tight bundle of nerves..the sensation constricting his shaft and making him even more so vulnerable than before. He’d consistently dote on you, telling you how pretty you were taking his dick..how good you were opening for him and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. Saying everything you needed to hear..cream began to pool around the rim of your opening; a result of the slow repetition of his cock slamming into you. Meanwhile, your legs and ankles rested on his broad shoulders. They’d tremble within his grasp as he laced them with sensual kisses. “You have any idea how good you make me feel, my love? How wet you are right now…I just wanna fill you up..I swear. Hell, I think you’d look so beautiful with my baby inside of ya’…” the low vibrato and his accent making the statement even sexier when he uttered it. The response was you twitching around him but not out of pain..you loved the idea. Being stuffed full of his seed, even if you weren’t exactly ready for the latter yet!

“Mmmph...I love when you nut in this pussy.” Declaring with your lips only inches apart. Eventually bridging the gap with soft, sensual pecks. Tongues swirling around and clashing with one another as strings of saliva formed between them. “Yeah? That’s what you want?” “Yes, baby. Keep fucking me. Make me take that dick!” Steadfast in your words, you’d claw at the pillows behind you..the only thing within your confined grasp as his movements progressed. He’d begin to speed up that dormant pace and get deeper into your core. It would seem that your lecherous words had pushed him to the next level..driving him to repeatedly stab at your sensitive core with deep, sharp, unrelenting thrusts. On top of rolling his fingers against your clit, drumming up more of that slick. The moment was perfect..the way your round tits swayed with each thrust, your skin riddled with wax and sweat, your legs coiling his waist..the only thing missing were your nails clawing into his back and marking him up. “J-Jeann…mm, gonna cum! Fuck!..” So he’d make the decision to untie your wrists and lift that blindfold. He needed to see your pretty face whilst he was in it. All of those authentic reactions..

“Then come, baby!..and look me in the eye when you do it.” Prompting you to release that shower of sweet rain all over him and while he was still buried to your hilt nonetheless. Only pushing him back when you could no longer keep him inside, and he’d retract to tap that tip against your slit. “I love when you squirt on this dick..feels so fucking good.” But your boyfriend wasn’t letting up..he was still vying for his own orgasm. Desperate and utterly desiring to fill you full of his seed. Repositioning once more, Jean hovered over your frame and pinned all your limbs back in one fell swoop. He couldn’t pretend to be composed any longer and that suave romantic had shifted to a salacious deviant..hungry to claim your womb for his own. That much apparent by his brutal thrusting and incessant growls as he took full dominion over you. Your feet and wrists were once again restrained as to avoid any attempts to stop him. But he knew you were equally aching for it..aching to be bred and stuffed full, so he’d persist. Spouting off lewd remarks and sloppy kisses to quell you. The bed jolted around with the headboard smacking the wall. Your bodies entangled as he folded you into that mating press. “You're gonna take it f’r me, sweetheart?! Take all this nut..it’s all yours..just tell me where you want me to put it, right now.” Through gritted teeth, he’d plead and try to maintain the last semblance of dominance he harbored because just as his resolve was fading, his stamina was slipping as well. Those thrusts became sporadic in rhythm and he was faltering in his speed. That once deep voice was a sending in pitch and Jean was on the brink of collapse as he held out for a few more strokes. “Gah! Fuck..so tight, I’m coming, baby!—“ “Nut in me, please..give it to me!” And with that command, he no longer felt the need to restrain himself. Coming to a complete halt, you’d watch those deep set eyes become wider and his body stiffen up. He was frozen in place but that long rope of warm semen spilled into your womb. He’d release your hands and you’d be quick to quell him with a palm to the face, thanking him for it and telling him how amazing it felt.

“I need a kiss, c’mere..”

“Of course…”

finally back into reality and consciousness, you’d join together one more time for a searing, passionate peck that solidified your love. Right here in this room, he made certain that you knew you were his forever and always. Regardless of your pasts, who may have been in it before or otherwise. What mattered most was the here and now.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve skipped the promise ring. I wanna marry you right now.” Prompting you to chuckle into your hand before stringing a finger down his chest. “Well that’s quite the jump.” But rest assured, you’d be right here until the actual day came along. Proposal or not, you knew who you wanted to spend the rest of forever with so for the time being, you could revel in his presence and never grow tired. You could definitely get used to it.

“I love you, Jean..” “I love ya’ more, sweetheart.”

and he’d spend all night of the rest of his life proving so.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@honeybleed @spaceforher @dezibou @nanamiscunt @sweethoneycream

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honeymilk-4 · 7 months

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guys when I wanna read some attack on titan works I DONT WANT MODERN AU!!!!! 🙏🙏 a bitch is digging in the depths for some non modern attack on titan works😭

PLEASE maybe it's just me but I don't wanna read about it I wanna cry and feel that pain😭😭😭😭

#attack on titan #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #armin x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #hange zoe #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein x reader #no more modern AU please

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luvrrgirl444 · 2 months

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angel ! : in which y/n goes to her brothers college football game and his teammate catches her eye — OR — in which jean meets his teammate’s little sister and can’t seem to get her out of his head

college football player! older brothers friend! jean kirstein x black! fem reader

smau + written

taglist is open!

profiles 🎡!

the bffs (sisters) + the brother | the d1 athletes | buttercup, blossom & bubbles

chapters 🎡!

chapter 1: saturday

chapter 2: number 6

chapter 3: locked in

chapter 4: mansion

chapter 5: boo

taglist! <3 @alittleilliterate @invisible-mori @jazminethecreator @drugzforyou @shidousmainluvr

#aot smau #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #x black reader #jean kirstein #football au #connie springer #eren jaeger #luvrrgirl444 #smau #jean kirstein x reader

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savkirschtein · 2 months

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AOT character & their personal fashion styles

characters : Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus, Marco Bodt

warning: all of these are just purely based off of my personal insight and views of the characters and how i think they’d dress today

🪩🥡🪐🎸🎧

Eren Jaeger: 🎱🌪️🩻⛓️

based off of season 4 Eren

i picture Eren in todays world really rocking with a minimalist street style

he’s all for comfort and breathability in his clothing and his style reflects that

a closet full of loose fitting boxy t-shirts

LOVES the cold months so he can layer his hoodies and leather jackets

while also sporting the slutty tightly fitted black shirt grey sweat pant combo every now and then

maybe even just walking out his apartment with a wife pleaser and baggy jeans on as a fit alone

all paired with sneakers, small silver hoops, and a chain of some sort

Mikasa Ackerman: 🍒💿📷🃏

we all know for a fact that Mikasa can DRESS

she just has an eye for fashion and has a unique style of her own

one that isn’t over the top, in terms of being a spectacle, but just well put together and tailored to HER. a girl you 110% give a second glance

she is a girlie who LOVES wearing any skirt whether it be long, midi, mini or knee length she LOVES them

most of her pieces are pretty free flowing with lots of different silhouettes

absolutely loves a good leather boot, pair of mary janes, or platform loafers

she literally could wear a trash bag and make it look like it’s the next trend

and has a huge collection of baggus

Armin Arlert: 🎧📘🍵☁️

Armin will literally never be free of the soft light academia aesthetic

the cable knit sweaters, soft cardigans, and sweater vests will forever have a hold on him

but what college boy Armin loves more than anything is a good quarter zip or quarter button up

or a nice casual white and blue striped button up

almost all of his clothing is soft and warm materials

definitely withholds the cute boy in the library title

Jean Kirschtein: 🪐👁️‍🗨️⚡️🌉

will live and die on the hill that Jean is a Carthartt guy

his look is a casual-relaxed but clean one

he’s all for clothing that is durable and will last him forever

Jean’s style is honestly super basic but NOT boring

although Jean’s style isn’t one that is made to make it hard to look away from its one that really just compliments him well

loves a good hefty Dickies or Carthartt jacket, basic white t-shirt, or a loose button up over a tank top

while wearing a variety of rings, with small hoops and a chain

his clothes compliment his strongly built and lengthy body well, which is why although they are basic, it isn’t boring

Connie Springer: 🎧💽☄️🩻

Connie is a literal fashionista

he probably is tiktok famous for his fit check videos and adventures at the thrift stores

the street style aesthetic was MADE for Connie

knows how to put pieces that may not look ideal together into a cohesive fit

LOVES JORTS and swears he made them trendy again

and wearing jerseys of teams he has no clue of , but it’s for the fit so who cares

Sasha Braus: 🍰🪩🗽🧸

the DEFINITION of downtown girl or coming of age movie in a city aesthetic

Sasha lives for the nostalgia of 90s pieces and it shows in her clothing

comfort is also a huge factor that plays into Sasha’s outfits

color is another component that makes Sasha’s outfits HER outfits

LOVES a good brown leather jacket

Sasha honestly though has a hard time sticking to just ONE specific style and will wear whatever feels good for her

Marco Bodt: 🍙🪴♠️🍊

Marco is a soft boy at heart but he’s traded in the traditional sweaters vests for hardy collared jackets

he absolutely LOVES PLAID

and loves layering his button ups with his worn out thrifted jackets

has a more warm palette in terms of colors and leans more towards earthy tones

super casual in his shoes though sticking to good tried and true high top converse, sambas, or loafers if he's feeling fancy

#eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #connie springer #jean kirstein #sasha braus #marco bodt #aot modern au #aot x reader #attack on titan headcanons #aot college au #Spotify

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exosalt · 23 days

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aot headcanons - skincare edition

Armin

Slightly on the dry side but v sensitive

Has a pretty simple routine - cleanser, toner, moisturiser, aftershave etc

His products are high end and high quality

Knows exactly what to use for specific skin issues

Religiously uses SPF

Eren

Combination skin but slightly on the oilier side

Doesn’t have a skincare routine

Uses 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash on his face when he’s in the shower

Steals Armin’s and Mikasa’s skincare products

Uses them wrong

Refuses to use SPF in winter

Mikasa

Normal balanced skin

Literally only needs cleanser and SPF and that’s IT

Likes trying out new face masks and sheet masks

Physically has to hold Eren down and rub SPF on his face

Levi

Used to have balanced skin like Mikasa but it dried out because he kept using hand sanitizer on his face

Cleanses twice a day but with antibacterial soap

Skin stills looks good because ✨Ackergenes✨

Jean

Combination and slightly acne-prone

Needs encouragement to use proper skincare

Not too fussed about following a proper routine, always forgets in the evening

Thinks growing a beard will cover the sins

Sasha

Has an oily T-zone

Tiktok is her main source of skincare info

Tried homemade Pinterest face masks but ended up eating it

Has a post on her Instagram of herself and Connie with face masks on and cucumbers over their eyes

Connie

Combination skin but slightly acne prone

Doesn’t really use anything special unless it’s recommended to him

“What’s your skincare routine?” “Water” - thinks that’s a flex

Loves trying new face masks with Sasha

Historia

Dry, sensitive skin but no one can ever tell because she’s perfected her skincare

Has a full 12 step routine

Loves giving skincare recommendations

Convinces Ymir to do spa nights with her

Reiner

Tears

LMAO jk jk his skincare is pretty simple

Has mostly normal skin but stress causes him to break out

Still trying to find products which work for him

Bertholdt

Oily + sensitive skin

Constantly forgets to use SPF

Doesn’t really matter because he sweats off all the product anyway

Annie

Combination skin

Constant dark circles

Uses super simple drugstore products

Only really focused on keeping her skin clean

Started using SPF because Armin suggested it

Marco

Combination skin but has an oily forehead

Doesn’t have a proper routine

Only buys products that are half off 🙃

Low-key scared he’ll exfoliate a freckle off

(The freckles demand love)

Ymir

Really only uses water and it works out fine

Doesn’t understand the skincare hype

Will still try out whatever Historia recommends for her

Erwin

this set

Hange

Doesn’t have a skincare routine

Likes putting weird things on their face just to see what effect they’ll have

Like they’ll rub a whole lemon on their face just to see what it does

Enjoys popping pimples

Miche

Soap goes up his nose every single day and impairs his sense of smell for like an hour afterwards

Cries when this happens

Prefers to keep it simple

Floch

Doesn’t wash his face

Crusty ass bitch

s/o to @sehun-cakes for helping me with this 😂

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goldenlocksprincess · 3 months

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Attack on Titan Actor AU (part 3)

Levi likes to take pictures on set, he has a folder for each cast members. He shares them on his socials during their birthdays.

Bertholdt keeps a notebook on him, he writes down songs ideas.

There was a rumour about Eren and Mikasa dating, the actors both denied it when Eren posted a picture of him with Mikasa's boyfriend.

Armin has a major in archeology.

When the shooting ends very late Jean likes to cheer on his castmates to bring some energy.

Sasha and Reiner often send food trucks to everyone on set to thank them for their hard work.

Historia makes origamies in her trailer and gives it to the cast.

Erwin adopted his horse after finishing his part on the series.

Connie is the best at keeping a serious face during filming.

Hange hides snacks on set so that she could eat them between takes.

Ymir cried so much during filming her final scene, they had to stop shooting so that she calms down.

Pieck forget her lines a lot when filming with Zeke because she finds him intimidating.

Yelena's real voice is really soft she just aggravate it for the character.

Zeke teenage crush was Hange, he was very honored to share screen with her. Hange in return teases him a lot about this info.

After his performance, Marco got a lot of job offers, but he decided to quite acting and become a doctor.

Annie cried when she watched the finale episode.

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coveholdenmyluv · 2 months

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Mean Girls - E. Jaeger

synopsis. Eren's the new kid at Trost Academy and being fresh meat in his senior year isn't easy. Especially so when the only friends he's made yet have managed to convince him to help them mess with "The Plastics". The problem?

He's got the biggest crush on their queen bee, Y/N.

series masterlist.

chapter warnings. Foul language, suggestive content, rich ppl, vomit, comedy, simping (eren almost creams his pants multiple times wtf man), second hand embarrassment, revenge revenge revenge

chapter synopsis. Eren’s first day at Trost goes horribly wrong but, hey! There’s sloppy joes? Armin and Mikasa won’t let Eren’s injustice go so easily…

chapter 1. Trost Academy

Trost district.

A paradise where sports cars, shopping centers, and marbled water fountains lined the streets from north to south and east to west.

And smack bad in the center of the bustling city stood an enormous pristine building lined with white bricks and polished blue tinted windows. Its entire essence oozed ideal perfection. Trost Academy, the city's pride and joy.

A fortifying standing contradiction to the boy currently planted at the front gate.

Beads of sweat could be seen sliding down the crevices of Eren's face, whether from exhaustion or nerves he couldn't yet tell. As if being the new kid in his senior year of high school that was in an entirely different city wasn't bad enough, the dumbass forgot to change the time his alarm went off. It had slipped his mind the night before that a new school meant a differing schedule, hence himself still operating on Shiganshina High's delayed timetable.

Luckily for him, mommy Carla wasn't so stupid, so when she noticed that Eren hadn't descended down the stairs for breakfast yet, you best believe she went in there and whooped some Jeager ass. It was because of Carla's thoughtfulness that he was only running behind a full ten minutes, though Eren doesn't take much time to get ready.

So here he was, taking in the glory of what was to be his brand new alma mater. He leisurely made his way to the front gate and displayed his temporary ID to the security guard who in turn allowed him to finally step foot inside his latest ecosystem. Which is actually a very humorous way to describe the academy since usually when a person pictures an ecosystem, one would see animals, trees, water, or any natural aspects that came from wild life.

The academy is the exact opposite of that idea; as opposing as black and white. Not a single weed out of place or bird shit staining any of the bricks - it's clear that someone takes exceptional care of the place.

It is currently 7:15 am and Eren had just acquired his schedule as well as his locker number from the front office, he is now waiting patiently for his student body president to show him around the halls as well as to grab his permanent ID from whatever room they were being made in — he has already forgotten the exact number.

Just as he was falling asleep in the very comfortable chairs of the front office, that almost caused him to froth at the mouth when he realized they were indeed massage chairs, an enthusiastic voice introduced themselves.

"Hey there! You're Eren, right?"

Right before his eyes stood a tall, tan, and freckled god. His dark hair was parted in the middle, with some of it ghosting the top of his face, and the freckles that decorated the apples of his cheeks only enhanced the bright smile he directed towards Eren. His clothes were impeccable, without a wrinkle in sight, and a very obviously expensive diamond studded watch was wrapped around his wrist, putting Eren's own withering one to shame; he'd gotten it on his twelfth birthday as a present from an aunt that he can't remember the name of.

Never in his 18 years of life has Eren ever met someone so blindingly bright, he was almost forced to use his hand as a shield for his eyes at the light that protruded from the boy before him.

"Uh, yeah. Eren Jaeger. I'm guessing you're the one that's gonna show me around this... palace?"

A pellucid laugh fell from the freckled boy at Eren's joke, though he's not sure if he would consider it as such since it's not at all a stretch of the truth, as he placed a hand on his chest to steady his vibrations.

"Yup! Marco Bodt, your new student body president. Welcome, I will do the honors of showing you around campus, to your locker, and attaining your student ID. Class starts at 8:00 so we should get going, Eren." He instructed as he held the door open for the latter. "Can I call you that by the way? I know in Shiganshina it's customary to go by last names, but here we're encouraged to refer to each other by first names because it apparently 'boosts our camaraderie', which is a weird way to think about it since it's not like we're soldiers or anything." He chuckles. "Anyway, if that bothers you then it's totally fine! I can refer to you however you prefer."

"Eren's just fine," He reassures the boy, "Can I call you Marco?"

"Marco is perfect! Well then, let's get going, Eren." Marco says as they finally begin the tour.

As they begin to cruise the halls, Marco begins to offer Eren peculiar information about the places they walk past, as if they are on some safari adventure with teenagers replacing the animals and yellow "Caution! Wet floor!" signs replacing the trees.

Although, usually tour guides speak about history or interesting facts and not... whatever the hell Marco was saying.

"And this is the janitor's closet! You can usually spot at least two people in here making out, just try to not get caught by our janitor, he's small but very scary. I also advise that if you plan on taking more than two people in here, maybe you should reconsider and instead take it to the stairwell just down the hall. Based on my past experiences, it can get pretty cramped in here." The student body president explained with a laugh that threw his head back.

Eren blinked in perplexity at the load of information thrown at him just now, though it's not like he'd be of any need for it. Eren gets no bitches.

"This window right here is where one of my best friends had their first kiss!" He exclaims as he points at the window overlooking the front garden, before he excitedly shifts his attention towards the boy's bathroom on the other side of the hall. "Oh! And just down that way is the restroom where one of my other best friend's got their first blowjob... although, I don't know if it counts since the girl threw it all back up, hmm." He ponders deeply.

That was traumatizing for two reasons: for Marco's best friend experiencing the matter and for Eren since he had NO NEED FOR THAT INFORMATION.

"Wow, you guys sure have a lot of history here." Eren offers unsurely.

Marco agrees with a nod, "That's right we do, we've been here since freshman year so these halls have seen many of our milestones." He explains with a fond expression. "By the way, right down there is the common room that we use to chill on our free periods. Feel free to join my friends and I if you ever see us hanging around here during lunch or just need some company."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Though, Eren doesn't think he'd be able to look Marco's best friend in the eyes after what he's heard.

"Great, now let's head to-" Marco begins before his sentence is interrupted by a high pitched voice.

"Jean, just leave me alone for once, please."

Marco halts his movements and turns to the cause of the disturbance which in turn causes Eren to do the same.

It looked to be a short boy with shoulder length blonde hair and azure eyes that remained obstructed by chunky rectangular glasses. He was being cornered by a taller boy with light brown hair that was slicked and parted, with a heavy amount of gel, and matching colored eyes. The taller boy had his arm perched up against the wall, effectively caging the blonde and thwarting any attempts at escape.

"Eh? Armin, y'know I can't do that. Why don't you yell a little louder so that goth friend of yours can come to your rescue yet again, yeah?" Says the one that Eren guesses is named Jean.

"How about you grow some balls and ask her out instead? Not that she'd say yes, anyway." Armin had mumbled the last part but Jean had heard it loud and clear.

"You don't know what you're talking about Armin, shut the hell up!" Jean says, (yells) whilst he throws his hands up defensively.

The blonde rolls his eyes in irritation and with many cracks to his voice present in his statement, he says, "Why should I? It's not like the whole world doesn't already know about how much of a try hard you are when she's around! Why don't you try licking her boots next time you see her, huh?"

"Oh yeah? Keep talking shit, let's see where that gets you."

"Woah, calm down Jamal. Don't pull out the nine."

"Why I oughta-" Jean begins as he raises his fist, only to be stopped mid swing.

"Is this... fun for you?" Eren asks with a furrow in his brows. His right hand grips Jean's left arm which effectively stops his fist from hitting Armin's frail face.

"Who the hell are you?" Jean asks, irritated.

"Does it even matter? Why bother the kid when he obviously hasn't done jack shit to you?"

"And how do you know he hasn't done jack shit to me? Maybe you should mind your own."

"I heard your conversation. Besides..." Eren looks to Armin and sizes him up before he turns back to Jean with the most deadpan expression one could muster. His point was spoken without words. What could he do to a guy like Jean?

"Hey!" Armin squeals in offense.

Jean nodded in agreement, "Okay, you've got a point, but still, I mean he could've fucked my girl and you wouldn't even know that you're defending a shit person."

"You've gotta get a girlfriend first, Jean. Then we'll see what I do about that." Armin mutters bitterly.

"You better shut your ass up, runt. Before I fuck your nose up more than it already is." Jean grits.

Armin gapes in offense, "WHAT- okay... new insecurity unlocked."

Jean then turns his attention back to Eren. "Anyway, this was an A & B conversation, so C your way out of it." He says oh so maturely.

"How about you make me?" Eren narrows his eyes.

"Okay! Let's all calm down, alright?" Marco finally intrudes as he places himself between the two boys. "Jean, come on man, don't make me tell Y/N about this. She should be finishing up morning practice soon anyway, you should go meet her at her locker like you always do!" He offers, effectively having an effect on the light haired boy. His shoulders relaxed from their tense position at his friend's reassurance.

"Fine." He relents. "Walk with me though, and don't you dare say a word about this to Y/N or else I'll piss in your backpack later." Jean threatens as he pulls himself away from the situation.

Marco giggles nervously as one of his hands rises to rub at the back of his neck, "Sorry about him you two. He didn't mean any of it!" He laughs off the conflict.

"Yes I fucking did!" Jean affirms from down the hall.

"Anyways, so sorry Eren. I'll be right back, I've gotta walk Jean back to his caretaker for the morning." Marco whispers with a palm shielding his lips. "I'll be back in just a sec!" He exclaims and hops off into Jean's direction.

"Why do you always take his side, Marc? I literally almost cried on the spot right now." Jean could be heard whining as both boys rounded the corner and walked out of sight.

A beat of silence occurs where the latter pair were left, before Armin exclaims.

"Uhh, oh!" He turns his body to face a trash can before whispering into the opening, "Mikasa, you can come out now."

Eren lifts a brow as he watches the cover of the trash can lift itself from the inside, and out stepped a girl dressed head to toe in black attire with two dark pigtails and bangs that frame her pale face. She held a black book in her manicured hands. Black nail polish, black lipstick, black fishnets, silver skull rings, and a black choker were more than enough of a hint to Eren for him to realize that this was the goth friend Jean had mentioned earlier.

The sight of a girl stepping out of an empty trash can should have caused him to gape in surprise, but at this point he was ready to expect anything more from his first day at Trost Academy.

"Thank you so much! Uhm, Eren was it? You looked as cool as the guys from 21 Jump Street!" Armin exclaimed and it was only then that the boy held the DVD case in his hands. Who the hell uses DVDs anymore?

"No," The girl declares as she lifts her book to her face, "You must be the dark knight called forth by my curse, here to fight off that man."

"What? Uh- no, I'm just Eren. It was no big deal." Eren deflects as he places his hands into his pockets.

To tell you the honest truth, Eren was shitting himself on the inside during the encounter with the jerk from earlier. He didn't know where he gained the courage to actually stand his ground, much less for someone else.

"You'd think a school as nice as this one would have no tolerance for bullying, though."

"Well, money talks, I guess." Armin says as he attempts to locate his lenses that had fallen during the ruckus.

"I've been trying to hex him since freshman year, but it won't work for some reason. It's like there's a force protecting him from me..." The girl says as she picks up the discarded glasses and hands them to her blonde friend. "Perhaps the Marco rumors are true. It'd make sense if he were an actual angel sent from above-" She continues.

"Wait, what? Who the hell made that up?" Eren asks.

"Beats me, though if I had to guess: I'd say Sasha or Connie." She answers.

"Who are they?"

"They're only two of the plastics." Armin pipes up.

"Plastics? As in, like, a mannequin?"

"What?! No, the plastics are..." Armin began only for his voice to die off as his eyes drifted behind Eren.

"Sorry about that again, Eren!" Marco apologizes as he reappears suddenly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. We really should get going though, we still need to stop at a couple more places and then grab your ID. Oh! Good morning, Mikasa." He looks a bit out of breath, as if he had run the whole way back. The girl being addressed only waved daintily and then shielded herself with her book, probably due to how scintillatingly bright Marco's entrance was.

"That's okay. Yeah, we should." Eren replies.

"Bye Eren! Oh, you should sit with us at lunch later!" Armin bids the boy goodbye.

Eren nods in agreement as he follows after his designated guide, off to somewhere he would probably have to listen to bizarre stories about. It seemed as though Marco could never run out of those, some even filled with normal teen acts and others that cause him to question their sanity.

"Hey Marco, Armin mentioned something earlier today..." He spoke up.

"What's that?" Marco asks as he provides him his full and undivided attention.

"What are 'The Plastics'?"

Marco is visibly stunned by his question for a moment, only for his eyes to give a flicker of boredom before the corners crease in their usual upbeat manner.

"Oh, uhm... I'm not quite sure what you mean." He answers with a gritted smile. "Sorry, I don't think I can help you there."

Eren notices Marco's hesitation, though the only movement he offers is an unsure nod of his head.

A brief moment of silence ensues over the pair of boys, before it's gently shattered by the freckled boy.

"Hey, Eren?"

"...Yeah?"

"A little word of advice from someone you, hopefully, trust to guide you in the right direction?" He suggests hesitantly and Eren finds himself subconsciously holding his breath. "You shouldn't believe everything people say around here, 'kay?" Marco says with a gentle grin.

Well, gentle is what Eren guesses it's supposed to be, though the edges are too frigid for it to be considered so. He couldn't help but sense some sort of hidden lingering emotion layered into Marco's chocolate eyes. Perhaps there was also disappointment?

But, if so, directed at who?

"Yeah, thanks... I'll uhm, keep that in mind." Eren replies. He couldn't help but feel as though he was the one who had created that disappointment, and for a reason he couldn't tell you, Eren didn't like the idea.

He hadn't noticed that they made their way to a hallway filled to the brim with lockers lining the walls and students idly loitering around. Checking his wrist watch, he realized they only had 20 minutes until their first class of the day had to begin. As Eren was inspecting his watch, he failed to notice that Marco had halted his pace to peer in the direction they had just entered from.

It was as if the next few seconds moved in decelerated speed. Eren bumped into Marco's chest which in turn forced the boy to look up at the taller boy, only to notice the smile and excited flutter of his hand directed to someone currently behind him, effectively making his own head turn to face the stranger.

In walked a girl that wore a cute blue top with lace adorning the neckline, paired with a matching skirt and sneakers. She had gold, diamonds, and pearls furnishing every inch of her body — from her headband, to her ears, neck, wrists, and even a single ankle. She trotted down the freshly mopped hallway with poise and what Eren noticed to be very toned legs that could have only been worn by someone that took great care of them. Her entire presence demanded the attention of everyone blessed to be in her vicinity.

And so, that's what she got.

He didn't even need to look around to be able to tell that everyone had paused their activities to look at the elegance that was her. How could they when it had seemed as though she had just descended from the heavens above?

...Or, was that simply Eren thinking that part? Maybe that was just a him thing...

"Hey Y/N, good morning sugar! Did you just come from practice?" Marco asks with a noticeably brighter smile than all the ones Eren has seen today; the only grin he could think to rival this one was the one he offered Jean earlier.

The girl noticed Marco as well and her once weary gaze perked up at his presence.

Eren didn't notice it before, because of his ogling, but she was noticeably out of breath and her hair was wet. Did she just step out of the shower? He couldn't fathom how anyone could look so attractive freshly out of a bath... He usually resembled a wet dog.

"Morning Marc', I'm surprised you aren't with your steed right now. Did mom and dad get into a fight again?" She says with a playful lilt to her voice — that Eren could have sworn had visible italics, for some unknown reason. Her voice was so fluid and velvety that his knees almost buckled on the spot.

"Not yet," Marco grimaces with a chuckle. "I'll join you guys in a bit! I'm showing the new kid around right now. Student Prez business, you know the works." He explains with a thumb jutted towards the aforementioned student.

Eren made a mental note to bow down and kiss Marco's feet later to display his gratitude for the brisk switch of attention, for it caused the embodiment of perfection to direct her stare onto his spellbound face. She raised a brow at him before she dropped her gaze to his feet and leisurely dragged it up his entire frame.

Eren almost moaned.

"Morning, new kid." She greeted, though her tone was noticeably far less light when addressing Eren than it was when she spoke to her friend, and then turned her attention back to Marco

It seems she has deemed Eren irrelevant.

"Hurry it up, Marco, 'less you want to tarnish your perfect attendance. I'll be with the diva, I can sense he's in one of his daily moods. I can tame him, but I'll need your help soon." She teases with a roll of her eyes.

A boisterous laugh fell from Marco's lips, "Yeah, I'll join you guys in a bit. Save me a spot-" He halts mid sentence upon noticing Eren's vibrant flush.

The shorter brunet had acted nonchalant throughout the entire duration of his tour, so it baffled Marco just how quickly he altered his tune.

The Student President looks to his friend, poor Y/N who has just gotten out of morning practice and now has to deal with Jean's morning fit. Her legs probably ache and he knows how much she hates the feeling of her wet hair dampening her back, she deserves a small break this once, right?

So, he looks to Eren once again, and then to Y/N, and then repeats the process about five more times.

"What are you doing? Your head's gonna fall off-"

"OW- ooh..." Marco suddenly grips his stomach in agony and hisses through his teeth. "LORD HAVE MERTHY, I'M ABOUT TO BUST!" He yells and dramatically slams himself against the lockers behind him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Asks Y/N, concern and shock etched into her features.

With a matching look on his face, Eren reaches a hand out in an attempt to help stable the boy. "Marco, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine! I just need to drop a deuce real quick." Marco reassures, which causes both of their brows to rise, though he pays them no heed. "Y/N, you wouldn't mind showing Eren to Dr. Hange's room, would you? He's still gotta get his permanent ID and I don't want to leave him alone. He's just a baby." He says while mustering up the best puppy dog eyes he has ever used.

She's always been a sucker for doe eyes.

"Sure? Are you totally sure you're okay though? That was super sudden-"

"Yup! All fine and dandy, I gotta go. Have fun!" Marco exclaims and runs off to someplace god only knows with how his legs are clenching together.

"He's so fruity sometimes..." Y/N mumbles as she watches him leave, before she shakes her head and extends a jeweled hand towards the boy beside her. "Anyway, sorry about that. Was it Evan?" She asks unsurely.

"E-eren." He says with an audible voice crack, which in turn causes him to clear his throat and deepen his voice dramatically. "It's- I'm just Eren." He says and accepts her offering.

He has to make a lasting impression.

As soon as he takes hold of her soft and manicured hand, he swears he feels some sort of electrical current running through from his head to his toes. Golden sparks flew around her frame and blew some of her hair away from her cheeks... or perhaps that was the effect of Eren's heavy ass breathing fanning across her skin. She noticeably grimaces at the feeling and flinches away before she steadies herself once more.

"Well then, 'just Eren'. The name's Y/N, and sorry about Marco by the way. He's usually really composed so I have no idea what got into him just now. Wow, your hand is super sweaty..." She adds as she pulls her own away from his.

Eren pays the comment no mind and instead murmurs in an hypnotic state, "Y/N, wow that's actually really pretty."

"Oh? Why do you look so surprised?" She asks with a teasing tilt to her lips, her sultry tone of voice was an obvious attempt to loosen them both from the tight restraints their first meeting held them in. Though, she failed to notice how her continuation had gravely affected the boy. "Do I look like I would have an ugly ass name or something?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all." Eren vehemently stated. "I mean, why would anyone say that? You're really pretty, like prettier than your name- prettier than me!" He nervously chuckles.

"Oh, and that's such a valid standard because you're a pretty princess, aren't you? You think highly of yourself, don't you?" She continues her teasing, though Eren still doesn't take the hint.

Shit, he's already messing up. That's okay, he still has time to fix this.

"What?! N-no, that's not what I meant either! You're just like the prettiest person I've ever met, I don't want to cause you any insecurities!"

"Oh trust me, you won't. I know I'm-"

"I over lick my lips when I'm nervous! Sometimes it causes them to get chapped so I have to carry chapsticks with me everywhere." Eren also overshares personal, (embarrassing), information as a nervous habit. Word vomit, if you will.

A trait he is unfortunately exhibiting right now.

"Uh, okay?"

"When I was younger I used to eat the wax from my ears because I used to think it was the same as bees wax, therefore I convinced myself it tasted like honey comb."

Her jaw drops and the teasing grin is gone, clearly being caught off guard by his disturbing words. "Ew..."

"Anyway, you're way prettier than your name! I swear! I could prove it to you?! What do you want me to do? I'll do it, just say the word!" Eren hastily deflects as he flails his arms around and word vomits onto the glistening marbled floors. It's a pathetic sight, really. His insides feel like they're burning an inferno that he can't contain. His stomach begins to churn and suddenly he feels what he imagines Marco had felt earlier.

Does he seriously have to take a deuce right now? Perhaps he should have gone with Marco instead...

"Hey, dude... are you okay? You're looking really pale-" Begins the girl, though her attempt at showing concern was halted by Eren's loud and body convulsing gag.

Oh no... He can feel it, not word vomit, actual vomit pounding its way up his throat, climbing and begging to be released. Sharp talons cleave the walls of his esophagus so heavily that he feels as if he can't breathe. He has never in his 18 years of life felt like this and before he can even attempt to force himself to stop... it overflows.

Spewing out of his lips and onto the girl right before him was his double quarter pounder with cheese, large fries dipped in his Oreo McFlurry, and sprite from last night. All over the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on, the girl of his dreams.

And it's only then that Eren realizes they weren't alone.

Every single pair of eyes within the vicinity were glued onto their forms. The way Eren hurled and bent forward right onto Y/N's chest.

"What the actual hell?!" The girl shrieks as pure shock and disgust pours into her features. Eren feels hot tears gather on his waterline from the sheer force his body was using to dump out their contents. "What is wrong with you?!" She asks but garners no response as his mouth was preoccupied.

He tries to speak but every time he makes an attempt, his body curls inwards and begins to retch once again, "Shit, I'm so-" He begins, but to no avail. Not unless soiling a pretty girl's outfit counts as any benefit, at least.

"Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!"

It's safe to say that Eren has made his lasting impression.

About 30 minutes after his projectile vomiting incident, Eren and Y/N are walking the same hallway they had met in, on their way to Dr. Hange's room for a stupid ID that he doesn't even care about anymore. Not when he can feel the wrathful glare from the short janitor stabbing at the side of his head. Eren grimaced as he walks past and murmurs a soft apology for creating the mess he was required to scrub until the floor glistened once again.

How did he already get on the janitor's shit list?

The girl beside him wasn't a fresh breeze on a sunny Sunday morning either. Rightfully so, considering she was forced to go shower again, though at least she was smart enough to store an extra pair of clothes in her locker. Here she was sporting yet another skirt, only this one was a vintage green finished with a mermaid hem. Her top was matching in color with some sort of floral pattern that Eren decided suited the way she smelled, and a small cardigan laid right on top. Her head was adorned with a white headband that matched her sneakers.

This chick seriously can't look anything less than perfection, can she?

Eren himself hadn't gotten any of last nights dinner on his own clothes, thankfully since he was not smart enough to do the same as the irritated girl. He better be extra thankful because of course he chose to wear a white button up today and there is no way he would have gotten the stain out, much less the smell.

They walked in silence, side by side, as the girl gripped the strap of her handbag... is that Balenciaga? Either way, Eren struggled to match her pace. She was absolutely pissed, that much he could tell.

He didn't know what to do, he could barely bring himself to speak. He felt that if he attempted to, he might puke all over her designer clothes again and he doubts she would have a third outfit prepared.

She would, but that's not important.

He really really wants to apologize, perhaps he can pay her back? Maybe he can sell one of his kidneys on the black market? Would they even pay him enough for that? He could probably find a nice corner and advertise his virginity to cover the rest, he's 18 now so it should be legal, right? Or, perhaps he will forever stay in debt to a girl he met in high school that pranced around in designer clothing and handbags. No one would ever think to hire him for any respectable position in that case.

He's fucked.

"Uhm..." He starts.

She sighs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Listen, I'll do you a favor. Let's just forget all about this and look the other way. As long as we never interact again, this will fade sooner rather than later and I'll have received my package from UPS or FedEx or whoever the fuck, and gotten a replacement for that really cute top you just ruined. Capiche?"

Eren sputters at her solution, staggering at the thought of never interacting and going their separate ways. Though, he supposes this is better than resorting to the black market. Perhaps they truly could move past this hurdle and live as simply acquaintances — acquaintances that harbored very ill memories of each other.

"Okay-" He began, only to get interrupted by a ping in her hand.

She had barely even glanced at it, really it was not a salient thing on her mind. She would have left it at a single glance would it not have been for several more following in succession. Only then did she spare it a second glance and the horror painted on her face was a tale tell sign that whatever it was that she read was not ideal.

"Oh no... no no no no, shit!" She cursed and rapidly tapped her fingernails on her illuminated screen.

A video played on her phone, loud enough to reach Eren's own ears. There was retching sounds, a gag, and then a splash. 'Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!' Followed after from the same velvety voice that made him weak in the knees.

"Evan-" She called as she shoved the phone towards Eren's face and his worst fears were confirmed.

Someone had recorded the entire event.

It was posted to the schools Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter. There were comments, hundreds of them, and memes were already being made of Eren's face in pure agony. His teary eyes and sweaty face were plastered on every social media. He doesn't know if he's lucky that everyone is in class at the moment so that no one could actively laugh at him or if he was doomed because he's alone in a hallway with his newfound crush as his retching sounds echoed from the phone in her dainty hand.

"This is so bad! No one is gonna let this shit go anytime soon." She states as she reads the hundreds of loathing comments. "Look, I overreacted back there-"

"Just save it, okay? Thanks for walking me but I think I've got it from here." He says and hurriedly runs with his tail between his legs as she stares at his retreating form. Her jeweled hand finds itself aching to reach out, but she forces it to stay glued to her side.

"Well... fuck."

Three.

That's how many classes Eren has had to sit through as people stare and gawk at him. Some are bold enough to point and laugh, though never to the extent where they would say anything to his face, while others resorted to mocking him behind his back, but the worst of them all?

The ones that look at him with pity.

Eren absolutely abhors being pitied.

He hates it — hates to be babied and hates to be coddled. He's a grown ass 18 year old man (boy) and has no need for people to feel sorrow for him when he's the one controlling all of his own actions.

He's a grown ass man (boy), alright. A grown ass man (boy) that just finished crying in that, surprisingly clean, bathroom stall because of the sheer humiliation that he felt. The ignominy that he had a moment of weakness caught on camera and shared with the entire school. The indignity of the fact that he ran and cried uncle from her.

If only she hadn't been there, then maybe he would have been spared the embarrassment. If only Marco hadn't needed to take a shit. If only Jean hadn't been messing with Armin this morning, then perhaps he wouldn't have had to intervene and therefore would have arrived at Dr. Hange's room on time and missed Y/N's entrance, she would have never made him weak in the knees and tongue tied. Nothing would have been spilt aside from his drool. None of this would have happened.

All of those thoughts ran rampant in Eren's head, so much so that he didn't even notice the lunch bell had rung until he felt someone continuously poke his shoulder.

"Wow you have tiny shoulders!" A tall girl with brown hair pulled into a pony exclaimed.

Swatting her hands away, Eren asks irritated, "What do you want?" Though, he knew it was pointless. She was probably there to ridicule and taunt him into crying some more, which he would totally give into.

"Uhh, the lunch bell rang already, so-"

"Oh, t-thanks." He answers.

She didn't recognize him? She isn't laughing at or deriding him, that's amazing! Maybe people have already begun to forget! That's what always happens after a major incident, so perhaps his life will be back to norm-

"Hey, wait! Aren't you the guy from that video? Oh, man! You puked all over Y/N, didn't you?" She asks, throwing her head back in a guffaw. "Dude, I've never seen her make that face before-"

"Sash! Are ya coming or not? They're leaving us behind!" Calls a boy with a silver buzz cut, his head and torso peeking into the emptying classroom buoyantly.

"Hey, Connie! Come look! It's the guy from the video, the one that squirted his juices all over Y/N!"

"I did not squirt my juices!"

"No fucking way! Man, you're famous!"

Just as the lively boy was making his way over to Eren's desk, Eren abruptly stands from his seat, the metal scraping at the floor harshly, and hastily grips his backpack.

"Listen, just leave me alone. I did not squirt my juices and I most definitely am not famous. But, you know what? Since you're both so insistent, why don't I give you an autograph?!" He erupts and then shoves two of his fingers down the back of his throat, gagging in the process.

"Woah! No need, we're fine..." Connie takes a step back and shields himself with his arms.

Eren glares sneeringly, "Apologies, I must have squirted all my juices for the day, I'm all out." He bites sarcastically and stomps his feet all the way out the door.

"What's wrong with him?" Connie asks his friend.

"He seems really upset, I don't know why, though." She answers obliviously.

"Beats me," Connie shakes his head dismissively and charges on with why he was originally even there. "Anyway, I was trying to tell you that we should go before they run out of sloppy Joes! You know Reiner doesn't give a damn about his bank account when they serve those, and if we don't go now... they'll all be devoured."

"Devoured?!" She screeched. "I'll kill the big oaf!"

"Then hurry your fat ass up, he's got a head start already!"

"What if we jump him in the lunch line? Oh! We could take his wallet too!"

"Girl, he's six foot four. The only things you'll be jumping are his man knockers, now get your ugly ass to the cafeteria."

"I mean, if that was the result of my actions, you would not catch me complaining-"

"Let's. Go."

"Eren! Over here!" Armin, the blonde from this morning, called out.

Eren had just arrived at the expanse cafeteria, and to say he's about to piss his pants would be the understatement of the century. He had hoped to simply grab a tray of those magnificent looking sloppy Joes and then retreat back into the safety of the biggest stall available in the men's restroom to finish his crying session. Though, before he could even grab a tray, he was eagerly waved over by the goth girl and scrawny boy from earlier. They didn't seem to be laughing at his expense, and he had to admit, the familiar faces brought him a comfort he desperately needed at the moment.

"Hey," Eren greets as he sits across from the duo who contrasted each other so much so, it was almost amusing to him. They were sat at a round table near the back that allowed them clear views of the others surrounding them.

"Hey, how have you been?" Mikasa asks softly. He can tell she is trying her best to be as consoling as possible, considering the obvious shit day he's had.

"As well as I can be," He answers with a sigh and then drags his hands down his face in exhaustion. "I assume you guys have seen the video?" He asks with a wince, already having accepted what answer he would receive but still afraid of it. He settles his backpack on his lap and wraps his arms around its waist — he still hadn't stashed it away in his locker in fear of walking down that familiar hallway once again. It was as if he had developed PTSD or something of the sort that had him feeling like he would reenact the entire fiasco a second time. Not to mention, the hallway would surely be filled to the brim with other students and he couldn't bear to have all eyes on him again. Simply walking into the cafeteria had a dozen holes being burned on the back of his head, he doesn't want to imagine what kind of attention he would garner then.

"Everyone and their mothers have, I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Eren." Armin says sympathetically.

"Oh no, not the milfs." Eren grumbles as he squishes his face into the top of his bag.

"It's the plastics, Eren. What can you expect?" Mikasa grits bitterly, her eyes scrutinizing a table not far from her own. "I bet Y/N planned this all out, some kind of sick scheme to assert her dominance over the fresh meat."

"Mikasa... even if that were true, she's the one that got her clothes ruined. What good would that have done for her?" Armin rebuts.

The girl looks appalled that her friend would even ask such a thing. "Armin, she's loaded. The cost of an outfit like that is pocket change in her eyes." She reminds him. "Trust me, that was a minuscule loss to her father's bank account."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't put it past them." He agrees.

"Uhm," Eren interjects with a raise of his had as if he were in the middle of a lecture. "What the hell are 'The Plastics'?" He asks with his fingers making air quotations. "Armin mentioned them earlier too, so I asked Marco about it but he said he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Of course he said that, he's a part of the problem!" Mikasa exclaims a bit too loud for Armin's taste.

"Calm down Mikasa, they'll hear you!" He ushers the girl, not noticing he too has reached her level of volume. "Okay, Eren. If you want to survive, cause you're not gonna thrive unless you're one of them, you'll need to know who the hell they even are." He tells him whilst jutting his fingers in the direction that the girl beside him was just glaring at.

At a table not too far from their own, that they held a near perfect view of, sat a group of 8 teens. Although they all looked drastically different from each other, not to mention how they act, one thing was certain in what they had in common.

The blistering amount of confidence that oozed from their pores.

There was no doubt about where they all stood in the social hierarchy, the energy they exuded wouldn't allow any shred to sprout. The auras around them were asphyxiating and wouldn't let them go unnoticed, it was as if those same auras had wrapped their tendrils around each person present in the room, forcing them to bend knee to their will.

"Those eight are who we call 'The Plastics'." Armin explains.

"Cause they're all fake conniving bitches." Mikasa grits. It was clear that the girl had it out for them personally, though the reason for that is still a mystery to Eren.

"Tone it down, 'Kasa. They'll hear you."

"Whatever."

"This seems very personal. What'd they do to you?" Eren asks as he leans his chin on his palm.

"What do you mean?" The girl asks.

"Well, you seem to really hate them. Like you have some kind of personal vendetta."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, why?"

Before she can answer, Armin interjects, "Funny thing, Y/N and Mikasa were actually really-"

"Armin!" She interrupts his explanation, to which the boy sputters at her exclamation.

"What?"

"Can you not, right now?" She grits at the blonde, before she directs her attention back to the brunet before her. "We should give you a bit of background first, so you're somewhat familiar with who they are."

Both teens make intense eye contact before nodding their heads in sync and announcing, "Here's the mother fucking tea."

"Sasha Braus and Connie Springer," Armin says while jesting to a pair of students sitting beside each other, both having just sat down and were unleashing their wrath onto the other members of their table. It seemed they had been served whatever was left of the sloppy Joes which meant that they had less meat than the rest. "AKA: thing one and thing two. The most dumbest people you will ever meet, much more walk the planet."

"Armin sat beside them in Film theory last year." Mikasa adds.

The boy in topic nods vehemently, "They genuinely didn't know that Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana were the same person."

"I honestly don't even know how they got in with that kind of crowd, maybe their looks?" Mikasa thinks aloud.

"Either way, be wary. Just because they're stupid, doesn't mean they aren't as vicious as the rest. They know everything about everyone and are almost always at the center of rumors and drama. Also both stupidly rich." Armin warns.

Eren's face grows distant as he looks their way, reminiscing on his own interaction with the two. "Those two laughed at me in class earlier. I nearly thought they hadn't recognized me, but of course that was too good to be true." He says.

"No surprise there," Mikasa scoffs, "One time, they were caught trying to kill a ferret. The devils almost suffocated the poor thing with their bags." She explains as her fists slam down on the table brutally.

Armin's shoulders jump at the sound of the impact and one of his hands fly towards his head to adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The worst of the worst." He agrees.

Pointing to the boy familiar to Eren's eyes, the galled teens continue, "Next, we have Marco Bodt - our student body president. The quote 'nicest person to ever grace these halls' end-quote... well I call bullshit."

"There's rumors that he's been sent by whatever god you believe in to watch over the plastics. To be completely honest, that was probably started by Connie or Sasha, which wouldn't surprise me."

"On the surface, he's a real nice guy... almost too nice." Armin adds as he squints his eyes in suspicion. "It makes you wonder if it's all a farce."

"Oh, it totally is. I've heard rumors of him snapping at others and then proceeding to bribe them to keep their mouths shut." Mikasa nods.

Eren begins to ponder all previous interactions he's had with the boy, almost saddened at the thought of Marco's extremely friendly demeanor being a farce. "I never thought of it like that, it sucks actually. I thought we could have been friends."

It's Mikasa's turn to warn the brunet this time, "Zon't zo it, girl. Zon't zo it."

"Now, Ymir..." Armin begins before his face scrunches up and his eyes shoot to the ceiling. "I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what her last name is." He resolves.

"She's a part of the varsity girl's soccer team." Mikasa finishes as she juts her chin to a tall tanned girl sat beside Sasha. She donned dark brown hair tied into a low ponytail, and freckles littered her cheeks. She howled in laughter with her arm laid behind the seat of the blonde beside her. "She's a rude bitch and sarcastic to everyone except Historia, who she has a god obvious thing for. Well, obvious to everyone except Historia herself. Which brings us to-"

"Historia Reiss, she's your stereotypical popular girl — blonde, hot, and captain of the cheer squad." Armin interjects.

Next to Ymir was a small girl with vibrantly golden locks that could only be rivaled by Armin himself... not only that but they had nearly identical jeweled eyes. One could think they were somehow related, if not for their entirely opposing backgrounds. That one being Eren.

"Woah! Armin, is that your sister?!" Eren exclaims, staggering at their resemblance.

"What?! No!" The blonde exclaims, "Everyone always thinks that..." He grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

"I thought the same thing too." Mikasa snickers, "But, the more I've gotten to know Armin, the more contrary they get and now I can't even imagine them within an arms length of each other."

"Anyway! She's also crazy rich." Armin deflects.

"Uhm, isn't everyone in this school rich? I'm pretty positive I'm the only exception." Eren determines as he gestures to the rest of the tables littering the room.

Armin gapes like a fish out of water, "Well, yeah... but we mean Elon Musk rich! When we say rich at Trost, we don't mean normal rich, we mean buying an island rich. I have half the mind to seduce Reiner and get that bag, the big oaf won't know what hit him - I'd be set for life."

"How did you get in here, anyway? Are you like Einstein smart or what? What's your deal?" Mikasa bluntly asks.

"I wish." Eren answers, "In actuality, my dad's a doctor so we're doing well enough, though our net worth is nothing compared to everyone else here. I think I'd have to give the credit to my mom though, she recently got a new job in the fashion industry, which is why we had to move."

With a face that contradicts her words, Mikasa nods, "Interesting. Anyway, I heard Historia once made a girl cry in the restroom! Apparently, she cut the girl's hair because it looked better than her own." She informs them.

"That's downright cruel." Armin squeaks as he clutches the strands by his face.

"Next, we have... ugh, Jean." Mikasa groans and then faux vomits, which Eren finds to be insensitive, considering his experience with the action today.

"He's arrogant, cocky, and never leaves me alone." Armin grimaces.

"He's a wannabe delinquent and a whore for attention. Also, another addition to the stupidly rich club and best friends with Y/N. They're like Yin and Yang, but more alike than different." Mikasa glares at the fawn haired boy who is in the middle of flipping the bird to Ymir.

"Now, Reiner Braun. He's your stereotypical jock — blonde, hot, and captain of the men’s varsity lacrosse team."

"He's a weird one, sometimes leaning more towards a decent guy and then the next moment he's acting like... well, a jock. Pretty sure he has a thing for Y/N, too." Armin adds as the teen quite literally proves his point, feigning a yawn and laying his arm on the backrest of her chair. Though, the girl abruptly stands up and out of reach.

Weird.

"I think they've hooked up at least once. Of course, that's just what I've heard people whisper around them. No surprise, he's rich as hell as well." Armin finishes.

"And last but not least," Mikasa's once hard glare turns piercing and no longer exhibits a frosty aura. Instead, her irises project blazing infernos. "Y/N Ackerman. If the academy had a royal court, she'd be the one sat cozy on the throne. Queen bee, you could call her. She's also the captain of the girl's varsity soccer team. Don't be fooled, because she may seem like your typical selfish backstabbing slut faced hoe bag, but in reality she is so much more than that."

Eren can't help but feel as though those two have a personal history that can't be uncovered with a simple glance. Though, he notes how one sided it looks to be.

As he goes to glance at the girl they are currently gossiping about, he notices that her spot at the infamous table was vacant. The only people left were the rest of her friend group, all of which sporting dumbfounded faces.

Dumbfounded faces directed towards his own table.

Why are they looking his way?

"Hey, Evan, right?" Says that distinctly velvety voice that forces Eren to be grateful he's sat. His knees wouldn't have been able to handle his entire weight, not this time.

Mikasa gapes at the sight of the girl standing before their table, before she steels herself and returns to her signature glare. "It's Eren. Eren Jaeger." She reminds with gritted teeth.

Y/N noticeably winces at her slip up, "My bad, I'm terrible with names."

"It's fine! I'm just Eren." Eren hastily reassures as he stares up at her in a daze.

The girl chuckles softly, "Okay, just Eren." She corrects and then her eyes dart across the cafeteria to assure that all eyes were on her, as she intended. Her class did not disappoint. The oh so easily influenced senior class of Trost Academy granted her their fully undivided attention. Every breath turned stagnant, chewing halted, and conversations left on hold in hopes of finding out what the hell their most prestigious alumni wants with the social rejects.

She clears her throat and asks profoundly, "Why don't you come to my game today? We're playing home, and afterwards we're heading to my house to celebrate our inevitable win. There'll be pizza for dinner, on me." Her eyes dart to the other two across from him and her smile grows tight. "You can even bring your... friends." She says, though her words sound unsure and awfully forced.

Multiple beats of silence follow the offer, no one daring to move a muscle in fear of furthering their own confusion.

What? Why is this happening? What's her motive? Is she going to humiliate him again? Hadn't she had enough of that this morning? Eren wants to genuinely ask himself those questions, but in truth, he folds at her mere presence.

He's left with his jaw dropped and exchanges panicked glances with Mikasa and Armin.

Mikasa's expression of bewilderment fades into one of distaste and suspicion. "Now, why the hell would we do that? Princess."

"Because I'm inviting you? Obviously." The H/C girl retorts with the same bite in her tone. The room goes quiet once again, before she decides she has had enough and sighs in exasperation. "Look, I'm not about to grovel at your feet, I'd rather not crease my sneakers; they're Italian leather. You either come or you don't." She finishes and then leans Eren's way, causing him to catch a whiff of her floral perfume. "Think of this as a way for me to help you out a bit. You... didn't deserve that humiliation. Especially not on your first day." She whispers and juts her head to the eyes around them.

Oh, wow. It seems that she's attempting to make it look as if they are both on good terms, friends even. An attempt at fixing his reputation, which means she feels bad.

His heart is going to explode, and he's begging himself to keep whatever remains in his stomach where it should be.

His head nods buoyantly, "Yeah, I'm in love with yo-"

"Yes! We accept your invitation and will be cheering from the stands at 6 pm today. Don't worry your pretty little head, you'll see us there." Mikasa announces abruptly and fixes the girl a determined stare.

"Oh..." She breathes, almost as if she didn't expect the results she was given. "You're sure?"

"Yes, no take backsies." Mikasa says with a taunting smile.

"Okay then, cool. I'll- uh, see you guys later?" Her gaze moves to Eren for confirmation.

The boy nods dumbly, with pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, I'll love you lat- I mean! I'll see you later."

The corner of her lips rise slightly at his outburst and she tilts her head curiously, before she nods and retreats back to her seat beside Reiner, the seven sat around her giving her matching shocked expressions.

As everyone slowly snaps out of their dazes and begin to return to their own activities for the remaining of the time they had left, Y/N's friends aren't as willing to glide over what had just occurred.

"Y/N, what the hell was that? Since when do you do charity?" Asks Jean with a concerned expression.

"Don't tell me that's your way of atoning for the puking fiasco..." Ymir adds.

"We told you that it wasn't your fault, hon. It was the assholes that recorded everything and made it a bigger deal than it had to be." Historia reassures as she sits up from Ymir's hold.

"Are you beating yourself up about that, Y/N?" Connie asks sympathetically.

Reiner places his jacket onto the girl's shoulders and takes a hold of one of her palms comfortingly. "Do you want my last sandwich?" He offers.

"What? No, I mean sure I felt bad earlier but that's long since worn off. I'm trying to fix my own reputation here!" She answers boldly, "Have you seen the comments on the video? I'm being called a snobby uptight bitch. Yeah, no way am I gonna let that continue." She scoffs.

The entire table nods and murmurs their agreements, considering they probably would have done the same. It's not like she truly had harmful intentions, she just figured she could kill two birds with one stone.

"I'm not gonna lie though, can you really blame me for feeling just a tad bit bad for the guy? He already looks like a total loser. It's affecting him as much as it is me, so why not try to help the both of us out?" She explains, "Though, I didn't think they would actually agree. Especially Mikasa."

"So... no sandwich?" Reiner asks again.

"Rei, of course I want your sandwich." She answers and he happily slides his tray her way.

"To be honest, the kid's weird for projectile vomiting on his first day, but I can get behind your idea." He admits as he leans back in his chair.

"Well, you've surely seen better days." Marco comments sympathetically. "You sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," She answers, "Though, I barely got any sleep last night. Auggie had his band over because dad wasn't home, and he learned how to work the power box, so now I can't just turn it off whenever I want because the fucker will just turn it back on." She sighed as she bit into her sloppy Joe.

"Ooh! When are they gonna play for us again? They're improving so fast, I bet we could get them to play at Miche's Diner." Sasha suggests eagerly. "Speaking of, when the hell are we going back? It's been forever since I had that mouthwatering burger in my stomach!"

"Sasha, you're slobbering. Also, we literally went last weekend, what do you mean 'forever'?" Jean reminds the girl.

"I said what I meant and I meant what I said."

"Anyway, lighten up, Y/N. That loser is hardly important enough to let him get you down." Jean chuckles as he ruffles her hair, effectively tarnishing her picture perfect hairstyle.

The girl groans and jerks her head away, "I'd never let a man tell me what to do, now fix my hair you rat. I can't be seen like this." She finishes and points a manicured finger to her head, which the boy rolls his eyes at but accedes nonetheless.

"Oh, I know!" Marco exclaims with a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. "Why don't I bring Megan over to your house tonight after the game? That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" He suggests after having been brainstorming a way to lift her spirits.

"Oh wow! Yes, I miss Megan so much, please bring him over Marco!" Sasha says as she throws her torso on the table, cupping her hands together in a pleading motion.

"Yeah, I've been needing my weekly trauma dump, so that'd be nice for me too." Reiner agrees.

"I haven't been able to buy him snacks because I've been saving up for my club penguin membership." Connie whines dramatically.

"Connie, you're loaded. What are you talking about?" Jean deadpans.

The boy crosses his arms and glares at his freckled friend beside him, "Well, someone here said I couldn't use my parents' money on Megan anymore."

The boy in question simply rubs the back of his neck and chuckles, "Well, last time I let you, you ended up buying him way more than just food. Trust me, you've given him enough, get your club penguin membership."

"Look cueball, all you've gotta do is make a couple bets on who you think is gonna win tonight and then when we inevitably do, you'll have enough for Megan, your membership, and more. Donezo." Ymir says with a smirk, obviously very confident in her team's skills.

"And where the hell am I gonna find someone willing to bet against you guys?"

"Just go to the other side of the stands, Stohess is cocky as shit. Trust me, you'll find tons of betting twerps."

"Cool, good point."

"Now, let's just hope your new friends aren't bad luck charms, Captain." The brunette turns towards the girl in topic. "Last thing we want is this attempt at mending reputations to come bite us in the ass."

"Oh please, Ymir." Y/N scoffs sarcastically, "You make it seem like they're out to get us." She chuckles at the idea.

"Even if they were, what's the worst they could do?"

"Guys, what the hell just happened?" Eren asks with his mouth agape. Armin brings his hand up to close his jaw manually.

"I think we just got invited to a party? Is it even a party? Only the plastics ever get to celebrate with the captain after their wins, of course there are a few exceptions but I never thought we would ever be included in those exceptions!"

"I think I almost creamed my pants." Eren murmurs as he calms his heart rate from his latest interaction. "Wait," He redirects his attention to the ravenette, "Why the sudden change of heart, Mikasa? I could have sworn you were committing mental arson just now."

"Don't you guys see? This is our chance — we can finally get close to the plastics and ruin them from the inside out." She explains with a menacingly calculative expression on her face.

Both boys gawked at the girl and the sheer audacity she had to suggest such a thing, until Armin couldn't bear to contain his disbelief. "Are you crazy, Mikasa?! What are you on? How would we even pull that off?!"

"I don't want to do that, you sound psychotic. This is like some weird wannabe spin-off plot from some 2000's movie that we would never do justice and leave all the viewers complaining about how we should leave iconic films alone." Eren states adamantly. Her idea sounds cruel and he honestly doesn't know if they would deserve to be the pawns of some sort of revenge plot.

"Eren, she humiliated you. You might have your doubts of if she meant to ruin your first day at a school such as this one, but that's just how she works." Mikasa grits and her piercing stare somehow grows even fiercer than ever before. "She makes you think she cares and then when you need her the most? Bam! She drops you like a damn potato. She's the most backstabbing bitch to ever backstab!" She defends herself whilst her hands repeatedly make stabbing motions towards the boy's chest.

Eren's face contorts into a grimace, "This seems more like it's for your own vengeance than mine." He states as his arms cross over his chest.

"Yeah, Mikasa." Armin interjects, "Even though I don't like them very much, ruining their lives is a little too far; even for me."

The girl steadies her breath as she calms herself and reels in her resentment. "Alright, relax. I just worded it wrong." She reassures, though Eren doesn't know if he believes her. "What I meant is that we should take this opportunity to mess with them a bit. Maybe knock them down a peg, no biggie. We have nothing better to do and it's not like this invitation will actually spark some type of friendship with any of them. It would simply never work."

"...How would you know that?" Eren asks, though what he really means is, why? For what reason would no sort of relationship have the ability to form? Was the idea of being associated with people of their status so inconceivable?

"Eren, she couldn't even remember the name of the guy she completely humiliated just a couple of hours ago. Your name. She couldn't remember your name. Trust me, I know."

Ouch. That one cut deep, much to his surprise.

"Well... perhaps this would get Jean to leave me alone. At least for some time?" Armin mutters with his chin between his index and thumb.

"Exactly," Mikasa agrees. "Armin stops his bully, Eren gets his revenge, and I get the pleasure of partaking in and watching the collapse of the hierarchy."

Armin giggles conspicuously, "I mean, as long as this is just a bit of horseplay... nothing different than playing chess, right? I'm in."

The pair then turn their heads to the remaining member of their newly formed trio, who seems to be in deep thought.

Is Mikasa right? Could this simply be a game to Y/N? One that she would have no problem turning and stabbing him in the back in order to win? Everything Mikasa and Armin have said makes perfect sense, they sound like an awful group of people. But if so, why the hell is Eren hesitating so much?

He resides to closing his eyes and takes a thoroughly deep breath, relaxing his mind for what he can tell is a monumental moment that will determine his experience at Trost Academy. If he accepts, who knows what could go down? Not to mention, he might end up on the IT girl's shitlist. Though, if he declines, Mikasa and Armin would ditch him and then he'd be all alone in this enormous school filled with people who ridicule him left and right.

He can hear them laughing from the distance, condescending laughs that grow distinct the longer he keeps his eyes shut. They were taunting, as if they were testing his will or patience...

No.

Eren does not want to experience humiliation any longer. He hates to feel inferior and for as long as they are still standing, that feeling won't disappear.

Knowingly declaring war, Eren announces his final decision. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

Mikasa's eyes grew darker than they have ever been, and Eren could almost see the snake slithering around in the deep irises that made up Mikasa Ackerman's mercury eyes. "Thanks for asking, I've already got an idea. It's got to do with tonight's game. After all, what's a queen without her throne?"

And as the vindictive girl begins to elucidate her plan, Eren finds his gaze straying to the girl that stood above him moments ago. She's sat at her table at the center of the room, or was it truly the center of the room? Perhaps it simply felt that way. Eren was convinced that no matter where she stood, she would always be the center in his eyes.

He doesn't know if he likes that fact.

She laughs at the way Jean ruffles her hair for the fourth time, berates the boy, and then returns the favor. And Eren can feel his heart crack just the slightest bit as he thinks of what he agreed to partake in. He feels as though if his heart ruptures just a few more times, it'd bleed out. Though, perhaps it will already be too late then, and he wonders just whose will break first.

But, then again, Eren has always been a sore loser.

Tag list: @idreamitski @str4wberrylover @jesus-son-of-god @hoejosblindfold [dm or comment to be added or removed!]

A/N: Happy birthday Eren! My little war criminal ♥︎

142 notes · View notes

satorutini · 5 months

Text

"caution! this could get ugly" - eren yeager

Pairing: eren x reader

Summary: It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you work through winter break. But when you attend your coworker's annual ugly sweater party in an attempt to get into the holiday spirit, a certain green-eyed line cook is determined to make that a challenge.

Or;

The Chili's!AU Christmas party one-shot no one asked for

wc: 6.6k

Tags: enemies to lovers, coworkers!au

Content warnings: smut, oral ( f receiving), spit play, drug references, eren has big ass hands, minors dni

my first fic in an anime fandom, pls be gentle! you can't tell me eren doesn't give off headass-but-secretly-softie line cook vibes... you can't tell me he doesn't look like that one guy you wanted to smash that one time at work!

um...happy holidays, y'all!

read on ao3 | masterlist | twt

The lady at table six doesn’t deserve about half of the attitude that she’s getting from you tonight. Besides, it’s not her fault all of the sides to each meal she ordered were wrong. It’s not her fault her appetizer had to be recalled two times because there were onions in the guacamole on both instances when her chips and dip platter arrived at the table. She’s not the one who cooked her husband’s steak well-done instead of medium-rare. Of course not, because as she oh-so considerably informs you over the distressed screams of her high-chair-bound toddler, she would never cook a New York strip steak like that.

But between the chaos of the dinner rush and the mishaps of a particular line cook who seems hell-bent on making your night as difficult as possible, table six and her husband are lucky that you are even able to flash them a drawn smile before stalking off.

The double doors to the kitchen – so lovingly called the heart of the house - are a thin veil between utter mayhem and the generally calm atmosphere of the dining area, never staying for longer than a second as waiters rush to tend to their tables. Stepping into the chaos, several obstacles stand between you and the culprit of your terrible night. Fellow employees swarm the narrow walking space, and you slip by with practiced ease and the occasional apology. You’re almost a little envious as you take note of them – no one else looks as half as pressed as you do tonight. As they should be, it’s only a Tuesday night. Not even the weekend yet. And yet, as you shimmy your way through the back of the house, you can’t help but feel a similar fatigue and exasperation that typically follows a Friday night shift. This only serves to further solidify your resolve as you duck past a team of waiters off to serve a business party. A long, stainless-steel counter runs the length of the kitchen space, with shelves that reach the ceiling, effectively separating the servers from the cooking staff. Waiters and line cooks take turns sliding completed and returned orders beneath the shelving, and heat lamps attached to the bottom of the last shelf to preserve the food. It is within this space that you all but shove your head beneath the heat lamps to give Eren Jaeger a piece of your mind.

“Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eren, standing idly over the stove top adjacent to you whips around at the sound of your voice. He makes a wry face at the sight of you, hunched over the countertop and under the warm hutch, forced to cram your neck in a certain direction to give Eren the full force of your scowl. For all his nonchalance, there’s a glint in his eyes. “You haven’t come to talk to me since you started your shift.”

You blink once, twice, before all but slamming your head into the shelf above you in an attempt to swipe at Eren across the counter. “Are you – are you fucking joking right now? Are you actually fucking messing with my table’s orders because I didn’t say ‘hi’ when I walked in?” Eren sucks his teeth, pretending to rearrange some condiments in front of him. “You’ve been here for two hours already. It’s polite to greet your seniors. Seems you’ve lost all your manners while you were away at college.”

Right eye twitching at the condescending note in his tone, you rear back, ready to straight up drag him into the walk-in and show him just how polite your fists could be. That thought is quickly sidetracked as a broom handle to the back of the knees sends you stumbling back from the countertop. Your manager stands behind you, arms akimbo, broom in one hand. He pointedly offers you a serving tray.

“Your steak is getting cold.” Stern, curt, and orderly, your night manager is infamous for running a tight ship. But even he, for all his methodology and patience, gets run ragged by the customer service industry. If you thought you were over tonight, Levi looks just about ready to turn in his two weeks.

“What about-,”

“I’ll handle him. Now get back to your other tables before I make you clean the bathrooms.” The night shift manager threatens to strike you with the broom handle again before passing off the tray and pushing you in the right direction.

You spare an accusatory glare at Eren, who watches on in bemusement. Rude bitch, he mouths, wiggling his fingers in a girlish wave.

The rest of the night goes on fairly smoothly. The dinner rush subsides just as quickly as it came. No one asks you to sing the Happy Birthday song. The incident at table six lands you a meager tip, but you grin and bear it. Better than nothing at all. Or worse, change. This seems to be the case for Sasha, a regular dinner shift waitress. She marches through the double doors with a fist full of nickels and dimes courteous of her last table of the night – a group of college students. Cursing under her breath, it’s obvious your coworker is ready to call it a night hide in the back with a basket of rolls until close.

There’s an obvious shift in mood as your team transitions to its closing routine. As Levi thanks the last customers for the night and locks the door behind them, the tension from the day seems to almost melt away instantaneously. Connie, a back-of-the-house member who ends up stuck by the dishwasher most nights, takes the opportunity to hijack the restaurant’s stereo system to blast trap music you only know the chorus to.

Closing, believe it or not, is your favorite part of the job. You take pride in how dutifully you restock, fold cutlery, wipe tables, and somehow always manage to avoid being assigned the task of sweeping the dining areas. You’d rather be caught dead before you struggle with that insolent, brittle plastic broom against an entire night’s worth of grime and dropped food. Instead, when Levi wordlessly hands it off to you this time, you make your way to the back of the house, prepared to bestow this lovely gift to the main antagonist of your shift.

You discover Eren lounging outside the storage shed behind the restaurant, the tell-tale sign of the flicker of a lighter giving him away. And the smell. The heady burn of a Backwood climbs its way up your nostrils as you approach him, languidly smoking half a blunt on the clock.

“Y’know the longer you sit out here, the longer it’s gonna take for us to get the fuck out, right?” Eren greets your matter-of-fact tone with a cloud of smoke, thick and distinct in the crisp winter night air. You shoot Eren a disapproving look as you approach plastic broom in hand, fully prepared to guilt trip your coworker into taking on your least favorite closing duty. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, aren’t you? You’re so lucky it’s too cold for Levi to come out here and bust your ass himself.”

This isn’t the first time the heart-of-the-house worker had snuck off to light up before joining the clean-up routine. Connie and Eren regularly covered for each other’s smoke breaks, so often that even Levi began to turn a blind eye as long as everyone clocked out on time. The line cooks' routine typically didn’t affect much on your end unless it was a night like this – a night when everyone had plans afterward.

Tonight, there was a holiday party at stake.

“Levi’s got a soft spot for me, you know,” Eren scoffs, taking another drag from the half-smoked blunt. He still has yet to fully face you, perched on a stack of discarded crates and angled away from the kitchen’s back entrance. Tucked away in the shadow of the storage shed, Eren ashes off the corner of the small building. “Besides, even he can’t resist my charm.”

Rolling your eyes, you wave the plastic broom in front of him, threatening to poke him in the ribs when he begins to protest. “Charm won’t save you from sweeping duty tonight. After what your petty ass put me through tonight – here, take it.”

Eren raises an eyebrow, throwing his hands up in protest when you move to toss the broom handle at him carelessly. He gripes, “I’ve got better things to do than clean up after you.” The blunt in his hand smolders near his fingertips. You pluck it from his hands with little resistance and take a hit, brow crinkling at the taste. Your lungs ache and warm at the sensation.

“Yeah? Yeah, like this?” You wheeze and hope he attributes the water gathering at the corners of your eyes to the cold. “Just get it done, and let’s finish this so we can all get to the party on time.” Eren watches in dismay as you stomp out the remains of his roach.

“Someone’s in a hurry…A Grinch like you, it can’t possibly be the Christmas spirit?” Eren narrowly avoids being jabbed in the ribs again, jumping from his hiding spot when you lunge. He eyes your tense shoulders, nearly hiked up to your ears, and the impatience in your stance. In the years you’ve worked together, your general disdainful demeanor towards him is nothing new, but there’s something else. Something else that leads Eren to believe that the dark flush of your cheeks has little to do with the winter air. He swipes the broom from your grasp, approaching you with a wolfish grin. You instinctively take a step back, a little less confident now with the broom no longer as your barrier. Confronting Eren over kitchen counters, between restaurant booths, and across busy back-of-the-house spaces in the presence of your other coworkers was one thing. But as the young man towers over you, gaze shadowed in the dim glow of the moon and the weak holiday lights haphazardly strewn about the awning around the restaurant, you can’t help but shrink a little under his direct attention.

After a tense moment of silence, Eren relents. “Alright, alright. I’ll get it done. But you owe me a dance later at the party.”

Your stupor was broken, you sputter and gawk up at him, at his audacity. “I- Me? Dance for you? Dream on, slacker. Now, move it. I’ve got tables to wipe down, and I’m not waiting for you to finish sweeping.”

Working at Pepper’s had only meant to be a summertime gig, at first. Looking for a quick way to make some cash before the start of your first year in college, the local Tex-Mex chain restaurant was your least enthusiastic option. A popular location in your small town, it was one of a few dining options that didn’t require you to drive out into the city to enjoy. The idea of running into one of your former high school classmates while donning the company apron and signature red visor, toting a serving tray - or worse, working with one of them - mortified you. But chain restaurants were always hiring, and you needed money fast. Eventually, working the evening shift as a waitress during breaks from school became the norm - until now. Now, as the start of the final spring semester of your undergraduate program approaches, you're left to consider what the next summer will really look like for you once you graduate. Besides, it wasn’t like this was going to be your career, right?

Right?

In your years on staff, Sasha’s ugly sweater party had become an unofficial team bonding event of sorts. No matter how new someone was to the staff or how frequently they were on shift, everyone came to Sasha’s. And everyone came dressed accordingly, or you were turned away at the door. A night of ugly sweaters, spiked eggnog, and best of all, Secret Santa. Since your freshman year of college, Sasha’s holiday party was always something you could look forward to.

You anxiously eye a little red gift bag from across your coworker’s living room, trying to hide your grimace behind your second glass of wine.

“You look like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.” The hostess of the night is pretty quick to clock your demeanor. Sasha slides onto the couch next to you, her sweater an egregious display of flashing multicolored lights, silver tinsel, and a giant patch of Rudolph the red nose reindeer sledding down a mountain in sunglasses stitched to her chest.

You force a smile, attempting to play off your nerves. “No bomb, just…Secret Santa jitters, you know?”

“Ah, the classic Secret Santa anxiety.” Your companion watches as your nervous gaze flickers from the gift table to a certain couple in matching argyle sweaters with tiny Christmas trees sewn in between the jacquard diamonds, huddled in the doorway into the kitchen. Sasha’s eyes widen in understanding. “Can I take a wild guess at who you got?”

You realize you’re not-so-subtly glaring at Jean, who’s laughing with his uninvited guest across the room. Jean, your coworker, and former daytime shift waiter. Jean, your friend whom you’ve admired from afar for his kindness and tenacity. Jean, who got promoted to manager at some point while you were away finishing your last fall semester at college and didn’t tell you. Jean, whom you have the worst, most horrendous crush on. You take another sip from your drink to avoid the pitiful look you know is on Sasha’s face. “I just hope he likes what I got him. I mean, we’re not exactly best buddies or anything...”

If Sasha catches the sour note in your voice, she says nothing to acknowledge it. “I’m sure you know him better than you think.”

You can’t help but huff in exasperation. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Ever since I switched from dayshift in the fall, ever since I went back to campus, he’s been so distant. I could’ve sworn we were getting somewhere over the summer, but now…” You tip your glass listlessly in the direction of the object of your ire, whose arm is wrapped around none other than Mikasa, a waitress who quit last year but still hangs around some of your coworkers. Apparently.

Everyone comes to Sasha’s Christmas party.

It goes without saying that Jean is with Mikasa now, but your eyes can’t help but linger in his direction anyway. After all, the last time you saw him…

The pool party. That pool house. The surprise that colored his eyes and flushed his cheeks when you kissed him.

You shake off the memory, scowl deepening. The hostess herself leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, spill. What’d you get him?”

You glance around for any eavesdroppers before revealing, “A leather-bound journal. He’s always jotting things down, and I thought it might come in handy.”

Sasha squeezes the hand on your lap not balancing a drink and offers you an encouraging smile. “Not bad! Thoughtful and practical. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

You nod, a bit more reassured. “I hope so. It’s just…I really wanted to get him something he’d like, you know?” You watch as Jean presses a doting kiss to Mikasa’s forehead, smiling into her hairline. He has yet to look your way once, except for at your arrival.

Sasha pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. It’s the thought that counts.”

The thought. You scoff. You think you might need a third glass of wine.

As Sasha wanders off to mingle with the other guests, a mix of cashiers and kitchen staff amused with seeing one another outside of shift schedules, your attention is drawn to Eren, who seats himself in the spot that Sasha once occupied with all the languor of someone who didn’t show up to the party sober. It doesn’t take much for him to reveal that he heard most of your previous exchange.

“Secret Santa jitters, huh?” he teases, propping himself up against one arm of the sofa. The line cook wears a dark blue cable knit sweater, with what you think is some horrific reimagining of Bob Ross knitted across his chest. Tiny, tinkling silver bells adorn the hem, glittering as he shifts in his seat. His hair, typically tied up and away from his face during shifts, spills loosely over his shoulders and shags over his eyes. You recall the way he looked at you earlier in the night behind the storage shed and remember his insistence that you dance with him at this party. In the warm lighting from the barrage of Christmas lights that line Sasha’s living room ceiling, he almost looks pretty like this.

You shoot him a look. “What’s it to you, Eren?”

“Just wondering if I made the nice list,” he quips, winking playfully. You make note of the lack of red rimming his eyes. Maybe he is sober then?

“Cute,” you scoff, trying to dismiss the way heat rises to your cheeks at the comment. Maybe you’re the one that needs to sober up. “Now go sweep something or whatever is it you do when you’re not getting high and crashing parties.”

Eren smirks but doesn’t leave. Instead, he nods in the direction of the gift table, of the little red disaster bag that haunts the corner of your eye. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of your generosity?”

You sigh, giving in to the conversation. “Well, the point of Secret Santa is that it’s a secret-,”

“Jean, huh? That’s interesting.” While you sputter at his presumptuousness, Eren’s expression tightens for a moment, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Before you can question his tone – or how the hell he had even overheard you and Sasha, for that matter – Sasha calls for attention announcing the start of the gift exchange.

You leave Eren on the couch to grab your present, eager to get away from whatever that was. You have enough to be anxious about tonight without Eren Jeager getting into the mix. Unsure how Jean will react to your carefully chosen present, you grip the little red bag a little tighter.

In the end, you don’t even get to witness Jean’s reaction to your gift. All of that tension, all of your worries on the drive here, all of your anxiety leading up to this moment is all for naught. Eren Jeager makes sure of that.

He doesn’t even try to sound remorseful once he spills his wine down the front of your sweater just as you’re about to hand off your gift to your should-be-former crush. You had mustered up the courage to approach Jean, who had finally wrenched himself from Mikasa’s grasp for a brief moment to collect a wrapped parcel of his own. But as soon as you reach out to catch the day shift manager’s attention, your entire body is shifted off-center. Eren collides into your right side, tipping his glass into your chest with little more than a half-assed, “Whoops, my bad.”

You gasp, the force of Eren’s weight and a mix of shock and horror sending you reeling back from Jean. The surrounding partygoers come to a halt, Jean included as he turns to finally take in the sight of you for the first time tonight, mortified and doused in red wine that bleeds through the front of your white cashmere sweater like an open wound. The little red gift bag hangs limply in your hands.

Jean calls your name, voice colored with surprise and concern, but you’re already marching towards the bathroom, eyes stinging, hands shaking, dropping the gift bag somewhere on the way between pushing through little clusters of your coworkers all squeezed into Sasha’s homey apartment.

Much to your relief, the bathroom to the guest bedroom is already unlocked and unoccupied, a temporary haven for you to gather your bearings.

Or so you thought.

It’s not long before Eren finds you, gently knocking on the door with a soft call of your name. You’ve spent the past few minutes fruitlessly dabbing at the stain blossoming on your chest with paper towels and cold water, only succeeding in smearing it into a much larger mess. The snowflakes carefully stitched into the pattern of your sweater begin to take on a faint salmon color, the sight in the mirror only serving to fuel your frustration. Tears well up in your eyes as mortification over the night’s events threaten to overwhelm you, but Eren’s voice startles you into a sense of annoyance. In your panic and haste, you had forgotten to lock the door behind you.

The bathroom door swings open, and you glance up in time to see Eren duck inside, his expression softened with a hint of something you’re too bewildered to decipher. Your heart sinks when you realize Jean doesn’t file in behind him.

“Need some help?” Eren offers, an uncharacteristically sincere tone to his voice.

You shoot him a skeptical look, “Are you being serious right now?”

Rather than back off when met with your icy demeanor, Eren closes the door behind him. And rather than tell him off when he turns you to face him, nearly bumping heads in the cramped guest bathroom, you both set to work with damp paper towels.

You work in silence, under the harsh fluorescent lighting, the sounds of the party raging on outside. Eren’s touch is gentle, and purposeful as he braces your shoulder with one hand and dabs just under your neckline with the other. A pensive look falls over his face. You wait for an apology that doesn’t come.

Distantly, you hear the Christmas music switch to something with a little more bass and know that Connie has hijacked the speaker. As you dab at the hem of your sweater, convinced that the stain would be a permanent fixture in your sweater at this point, you glance up to notice a smile playing on your intruder’s lips.

You shoot him a withering look, “You think this is funny?”

Eren breaks out into a full-on smirk, impish even, looking a bit more like the line cook you’ve known to antagonize you. He tosses his paper towel in the trash and leans against the bathroom counter, his green eyes fixed on you. For a brief moment, they simmer with spitefulness. “I think it’s a hell of a lot less depressing than watching you openly moon over horse face.”

“Horse face?” You blanch. “You mean Jean-,”

“-Besides, I did you a favor. Now you don’t have to go and be disappointed him.”

Your frustration grows, but beneath it, there’s a spark of defiance. You snap at him, “What does it even matter to you, Eren? All night you’ve been on my case; at work, at this party! Whatever I give to Jean – whatever I have or don't have going with Jean is none of your business.”

You feel the tension between you, thick and charged, but the satisfied look on Eren’s face never wavers. He’s lax, head tilted back as he observes you over the bridge of his nose with a gaze that meets yours that could almost be described as bored if not for the hungry something lurking in them. That same look from your closing shift, passing him the broom. He’s not high anymore, you determine, hasn’t been for a while if the intense look expression, and the clarity of his gaze is anything to go by, so you can’t chalk it up to insobriety. You distantly wonder how much more often he’s looked at you like that. For how long? How have you never noticed? It seems so much more apparent like this, outside of work. So much harder to ignore with no metal counters to divide you, and no uniforms to keep up to code.

In your anger, you’ve stepped closer, balling the used towel in one fist and bracing against the counter with the other, half caging in the much taller man against the sink. You don’t realize how close you are, face to face like this, drawn in by the intensity of his eyes. The bathroom feels smaller, the air heavier, and you’re acutely aware of every beat of your heart.

You mutter, “What the hell is with you?” and he huffs a laugh through his nose, a real smile on his lips as you draw near.

“If only you fucking knew.”

Eren leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a bold move that leaves you momentarily stunned. For a moment, you forget about the chaos of the party outside. When he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a slow kiss laced with arrogance, a statement of intent. And despite your annoyance, you can’t help the feeling of warmth that floods you. Hands seek each other out in a flurry of movement. The paper towels and spilled wine are forgotten as Eren’s hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer. Eren lets you cage him fully against the bathroom sink, if only to fit one leg between yours and slot his fingers from around your waist to the back of your neck, into your hair with the free hand not holding himself up against the counter.

The kiss is a collision of emotions – frustration, surprise, and an underlying current of something you hadn’t quite acknowledged before and aren’t entirely sure if you’re ready to either. Unhurried and messy, you can feel the groan that reverberates through Eren’s chest against your own as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. He tastes like smoke and red wine and metal. There’s no urgency behind his moments, languid with the way explores your mouth, as if a crowd of people you’ve worked with throughout some of the more formative years of your life aren’t separated from you by a singular door. As if the man you’d sworn you’d come back to try to commit to wasn’t a brisk walking distance away. He kisses you like a lover, and not like a man who has made it his mission to spend every waking moment you’ve had together grating your nerves.

Surprise shocks you at the swipe of his tongue ring against your lower lip. His thumb at your neck strokes along your chin, and your jaw with a touch that’s borderline reverent. A balmy, pleasant feeling unfurls in your chest, thrums in your veins as you allow him to tilt your head back and deepen the kiss. Eren’s lips are warm and insistent, and despite the bizarre circumstances, you feel right at home in his grasp.

The sounds of the party outside fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thud of your heart in your ears.

You’re surprised at how gentle he is. Firm, unrelenting in his touch, sure, but with none of the simmering aggression you’d come to associate him with. Strong, sure hands, slide encircle your hips under your sweater, thumbs dragging across your hip bones at the hem of your jeans. Stoking that smoldering feeling in your chest, a simmering in your low belly. The sensation earns him a gasp, interrupted by his lips. It takes little convincing for you to remove the sweater altogether, discarding the article of clothing along with it.

You’re rewarded with a pained groan as Eren breaks the kiss long enough to admire you like this, all flush and disheveled from the neck up. His doing. Not Jean’s. He can’t help but feel smug satisfaction, finally having quelled that ugly, nagging feeling that had built up in his chest once he had realized just why you had been so anxious to get to the party tonight. None of that matters now. Eren is too focused on chasing the press of your hips against his. Too focused on the feeling of your lips and the little gasps you make each time he moves to tuck into the crook of your neck instead, teeth finding their way to the pliable skin at the juncture of your bare neck. Too enamored by the way the lust and wine make your eyes hazy and soft on him in a way he wishes you’d look at him during the daytime.

Breaking your gaze, Eren rearranges your legs so that you’re nearly seated on his lap with the way you lean over him against the counter. Eren’s fingertips find their way beneath the hem of your bra, sliding over the seams of your ribcage to trace and then squeeze at the expanse of bare skin there. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, content to rock in his lap and suck on his tongue until the rough pads of his thumbs swipe over your nipples, rendering you just a little more desperate.

“Oh – oh. Eren, please-,” The little silver bells sewn into the collar of his sweater jingle with every rock of your hips, and you can’t help but snicker against his lips once you notice the sound.

“Let me – here, let me take this shit off.” Eren gives you just enough room to swipe the festive sweater over his head, just enough time to toss it somewhere on the floor before he’s on you again. One large hand palms your rear, the other resting against your collarbones, fingers encircling your throat to guide you back into one more heated kiss, prying your mouth open with his teeth and tongue, rolling yours over his.

Your own wandering hands tangle in his hair as it curtains your face, trace the sinewy lines of his back as you silently wonder if he’s always been this strong.

Eren doesn’t let you wonder for long, managing to scoop up you inside the broom closet-sized confines of the spare bathroom and place you on the closed lid of the toilet, skirt fluttering up to the tops of your thighs with a swift motion.

“Wait, woah-,” You’re so caught off guard by the sudden motion, that you nearly miss Eren stooping down to kneel in front of your place on the toilet, large hands bracketing each of your knees. He leans in, a secret smile gracing his features, green eyes bright with mischief under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“I figured, this is the least I can do after ruining your night, right?” As he speaks, his hands hook around the backs of your knees, helping him make room for a space between them. He takes a second to gauge your reaction, and you belatedly put the pieces together of what he’s asking with a slight shiver. His smile ie earnest, eyes unexpectedly sincere.

You think of putting back on your sweater and going back out there to face Jean. You think of fishing your gift out of whatever unfortunate corner of the room it fell into. Of returning home having achieved little other than embarrassing yourself in front of coworkers and friends.

Your thumb traces Eren’s lower lip, and you realize you’re taking too long to answer. Eren. Line cook Eren. Eren the bane-of-every-night-shift-ever Jeager. After all you’ve said and done, after years of working together, can you come back from something like this?

Eren sits back on his heels and presses a kiss to the soft skin of the inside of your knee. Well, you sigh, stroking a hand through his dark tresses, almost lovingly. The hungry, impish grin you receive when you can only respond with a half-choked “please,” is enough to make your heart stutter in your chest. A win is a win.

Unfortunately for you, there reaches a point where you’re not even sure who’s really winning. Eren eats pussy like he was made for it.

He starts slow, tracing his nose up and down the gusset of your panties like you’re not cramped together in the guest bathroom at your mutual friend’s party. Like he’s got all the time in the world. Gentle touches across the backs of your thighs, the plane of your stomach.

When you start to wiggle with impatience, he bites into the crease between your sex and upper thigh, deep and indulgent enough to make you cry out. He doesn’t care much for your choice in panties – they’re quick to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor anyway.

Eren switches your position again, turning you face forward and bent over the toilet so that your hands brace the lid. You fold your arms, pressing your cheek into the bends of your elbows when he encourages you to arch your back further, palm large and warm and sliding down your spine. From where he kneels, he locks one arm around your hips, the other hand bracketing the crease at your asscheek, just at the top of your thigh. You are rendered immobile, vulnerable as he spreads you open to his gaze and laves once between your folds.

“Fuck-!” The exclamation comes out warbled, almost tearful into the crook of your arms. You wiggle your hips in search of more contact, but the touch never comes. Eren’s mouth remains frustratingly out of reach, instead tracing your folds with his thumb. Of course, he doesn’t start right away. Indulges in the way you squirm, half out of impatience, half apprehension.

Complaints earn you a sharp smack! where you’re left wet and wanting. Your knees bow, legs trembling from the shock of the sudden assault on such sensitive nerves.

“Eren,” you bite back a moan. Your antagonist shushes and coos at your anguish, only pausing in his condescension to sink his teeth into the cheek not held in his grasp. The whine that works its way out of you in response is loud enough for him to relent after a moment, playfully admonishing you.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be this fuckin’ noisy?” He mutters, lips ghosting over where you need him most. “So damn uptight and quiet at work until it’s time to chew me out, right? Now look at you.” Embarrassment colors your cheeks at his words, feeling the slick wetness between your thighs you know he must have a plain view of, and you distantly wonder how you allowed this to escalate so quickly.

From your bent position, you think you hear him swallow, mouth working over something that’s decidedly not you until you feel something liquid and warm spatter over your mound. Biting back another moan, you silence the small, nagging part of your brain that seethes at the possibility of him holding this moment over your head in the future. Taking note of the litter of bruises that mark the backs of your thighs, you know the decision you both are making will literally come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow. Tomorrow, when you have to inevitably face him at work again, along with the rest of your coworkers who are no doubt wondering where you’ve been at this point. Eren uses the pads of his thumbs to spread your lips again, brushing a gentle, teasing kiss across your clit and you decide you’ll reconcile with yourself on the matter in the morning.

“Oh fuck, oh god,” you mumble, unable to work up the energy to be irritated when you feel the way he smiles against you.

When Eren finally decides to give in, it comes with a price. His lips seal over the span of your sex, sucking on one fold, then the other before gracing you with a broad stroke across your slit, and you’re a goner.

“Mm-oh! Oh.”

That price is your sanity and your resolve to stay as quiet as possible.

He devours you, seemingly unable to decide between one pace and another as he eagerly works his tongue into your molten core. He’s mean. Deliberate. Worst of all, he seems to be enjoying himself. Starting slow, savoring all of your heat and taste on his tongue. Then fast and relentless, flicking devastating strokes across your clit in a motion that leaves you gripping the lid beneath you. Chest heaving in exertion as you attempt to hold back your cries.

Your legs ache and tremble, knees biting into the cool lip of the toilet lid each time Eren presses you forward in his insistence. Eren dips the tip of his tongue into your slit, nose pressed between your folds with a self-satisfied moan, causing you to jerk and keen in his grasp. Your arms squeak across the porcelain when you jostle a little too far out of grasp. The angle he has you bent at presses you up onto your toes. Eren tightens his grasp around your waist. He presses one long digit into your core and you cry out into your elbows.

“Fuck, just-just a little longer, okay? Just gimme a little more, yeah,” he mumbles, deep, raspy, fucked out, and sounding more like an assurance for himself than you.

The finger inside you and the hand at your thigh disappear momentarily, and you wonder if he’s touching himself. The position he has you in means you’d have to crane your neck backward just to catch a glimpse of his lower half. The thought fuels the searing heat in your veins, as does the slick sound of wet skin and the resounding whimper breathed against your core, confirming your suspicions.

“Eren,” you gasp, whimper, locking up at the sight of his free hand palming at the profuse bulge in his jeans, veins popping in his arms at the effort. “Fuck, wait, fuck-!”

You come hard and fast, blood roaring in your ears, fingers gripping the lid with a white-knuckle grip as you squirm in Eren’s grasp. Coming together and falling apart in an overwhelming wave of pleasure that catches you off guard. Eren is quick to catch on, both hands returning to your hips to lock you in an embrace, face pressed into your sex in earnest. You twitch and writhe in his grasp, unable to escape from his relentless assault on your senses. He talks you through it when he can bear to detach his mouth from you, murmuring praises into the heated skin of your thighs. Bliss crackles up your spine and warms you inside out from head to toe.

“Eren, god, please,” you simper, dizzy with your fading arousal, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. To stop? To keep going?

Eren decides for you, pressing one last parting kiss to your mound before getting to his feet. The moments following go about in relative silence. Despite him having been between your legs just seconds ago, you’re quick to feel awkward and aren’t exactly sure what to say. Surprisingly ever the gentleman, Eren helps you rise off the lid and redress and clean on shaky legs. You are slow to stand upright. Unable to meet his eyes as you try to reconstruct your thoughts from mush. He slides your panties back over your hips and trades your ruined sweater for his own.

Eren stops you before you can protest the offer, vehemently against him commuting home at night, in the cold shirtless. “I’ll just take Armin’s jacket,” he reassures you, adjusting the collar of the horrendous Bob Ross fabrication at your neck. The tiny silver bells jingle at his touch, sounding akin to tinkling laughter

Over his shoulder, you take in your appearance in the mirror. You had done your best to right your disheveled makeup and hair, but the bruises on your neck and the obvious wardrobe change were a lost cause. Even if you dipped out of the party now, there was no avoiding being seen. You were going to have some questions to answer in the morning.

Eren catches your contemplative expression and matches one with his own, a little guarded now. Before now, neither of you had been on the best of terms. A history of annoyance and resentment that lasted years brewed between the two of you. But now…

Now as you consider how terrible the night had gone and the embarrassment you’ll face when Jean inevitably picks up that little red bag with his name on it, now as watch Eren wipe leftover slick off the corner of his lip before sucking the offending finger clean, you figure that’s something you can sort out another day.

5 New Messages

hey! I saw what happened w Eren, u alr??

hello??

I got ur present! Txt me when you get home!

hey!!

can we talk?

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren aot #aot smut #aot fluff #jean kirstein #jean x reader #pepper's!au #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #jean kirschtein x reader #ctcgu

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ackermancurse · 6 months

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58 with Levi Ackerman for the prompt list please hehe :)

Modern Levi x Reader

Levi is your plus one to a wedding you were invited to in your family. Levi has always been your best friend so you asked him to go with you because you didn’t want to show up without a plus one.

“Pleaseeee Levi. My cousin is getting married and I’m tired of showing up to weddings without a plus one. It’ll shove it in my aunt’s face. I’m tired of hearing her snarky remarks of me still being single,” you plead to your best friend that sits on your couch in your apartment.

Levi sits with his right ankle resting on his left knee and leans his head back against the wall behind him, “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your face lights up, “Thank you thank you Levi. So I was thinking you can wear that black suit with the baby blue button up because it really brings out your eyes and-“

Levi puts up his right index finger and points at you, “Just promise me you won’t make me dance.” His grayish-blue eyes pierce into yours.

You pout, “But-“

“No but’s. I’m sorry but you know I don’t dance. When have you ever seen me dance in the 6 years you’ve known me,” he explains with a quirked brow.

You huff, “Fine I promise.”

Levi puts out his right pinky finger, “Swear on it.”

The one time he picks up a trait of yours it’s of course the trait you practice most. You always make Levi pinky swear and he hates doing it, but knows it means a lot to you. You put out your left pinky finger, “I swear.”

You place your earrings in and look at the time on your phone. Levi still hasn’t shown up and you have to leave in 5 minutes. You dial his number but it goes straight to voicemail, “Levi where the hell are you? Call me when you get this.”

There was a knock at your front door. You rush over and open it to see your best friend.

“Sorry I had to pick up my suit from the cleaners,” he mumbles with the suit still on its hanger.

You roll your eyes, “Well can we hurry this up please I wanna be there as soon as possible to rub it in my aunt’s face that I have a plus one finally.”

Levi enters your bathroom and shuts the door behind him while you sit on the couch. 2 minutes later he comes out in his freshly pressed suit. His dark locks framing his face perfectly.

“Can you just help me with my watch,” he asks, holding his expensive dark chocolate brown leather watch with a navy blue face and gold accents.

You stand up and grab his wrist gently, fastening the loose watch tightly together, “There, all done.” You glance up at Levi and find him already looking at you.

“You look good,” he replies in his deep and sultry voice. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

You clear your throat and step away from him, “Thanks Levi. Don’t look too bad yourself. Let’s go, yeah?”

He nods and makes his way towards the front door, opening it for you.

—

You arrive at the wedding venue with Levi and he puts his arm out for you to lock your arm with him, “God I can’t wait to see the look on my aunt’s face.”

Levi chuckles slightly which makes me smile and look up at him, “Glad I could help. But remember our deal, no dancing.”

You sigh, hoping he had forgotten about the stupid deal, “Yes I know.”

As you walk up the steps to the building your Aunt Alice steps out and locks eyes with you, “Well what do we have here? Did you finally take my advice and stop acting like a child and get yourself a-“ she glances at Levi and looks him up and down, “nice piece of man.”

You had to admit Levi always did clean up well. The way the baby blue shirt brings out his piercing eyes and his dark features accentuate his facial features like his chiseled jaw.

“Levi Ackerman ma’am. Your niece has told me so much about you,” he extends his hand and she accepts it.

“Only good things I’m hoping,” she smiles.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye with a small smirk, “Of course.”

Aunt Alice’s face turns flush and she looks you in the eye, “You better not do anything to lose this man, dear, or I’ll have to set him on a date with your cousin Rachel. She’d really love him,” she replies and winks at Levi. “It was nice meeting you Levi, I hope to see you more later.” Aunt Alice walks away to continue with her bride of the mother duties.

Your smile fades, “Ugh I can’t stand her.

Levi unlocks his arm from yours and grabs your hand, “Hey, don’t bother with her. I can tell she just wants to get a reaction out of you.”

You look down at your hand in his. Levi has held your hand before, but this felt different. You look up to him and his eyes soon look up into yours.

Levi clears his throat and let’s go of your hand, “So should we find a spot inside?”

—

The reception has gone on for a couple hours. You and Levi have been talking to all your family members who can’t help but gush over your “boyfriend.” Many of them commented on his cold and stoic impression and that he seems straight out of a romance novel.

You watch as other people dance with their dates and can’t help but feel a bit sad. You wish Levi wanted to dance.

“Uh oh trouble in paradise already? I told you Levi she’s a tough one,” Aunt Alice appears and sits down at your table next to Levi and gives you a tight-lipped grin.

Levi looks at you and back to your aunt, “Oh no. We’re just enjoying each other’s company here and talking to people who come by.”

Your aunt shoots you a glare, “I’m sure you’re just dying to dance and because she’s upset she’s not the one getting married so she just wants to sit and sulk. I’m so sorry Levi.”

You feel that familiar tightness form in your throat and feel tears sting the corners of your eyes. You look up at Levi and when he sees your expression he sends your aunt a look like he wants to strangle her. Of course, she doesn’t know this expression like you do.

“Actually I was just about to ask her to dance,” Levi retorts and stands up unbuttoning his suit jacket.

You quickly look up to him wide eyed, “Levi you don’t-“

Levi gives you a look, “C’mon dance with me.” His hand extends out to you.

You look at it for a moment and look back up to him. He gives you a nod of reassurance. You grab his hand and stand up.

Levi begins walking towards the dance floor with you when he stops and turns around, “And excuse me Alice. Your niece is a very beautiful young lady and I’m lucky to even be in her presence tonight. I don’t appreciate the way you speak so poorly of her so please stop being the bitter and jealous Aunt that you are.”

Aunt Alice placed a hand on her chest and was struggling to find the words she wanted to say.

You try to stifle a chuckle and cover your mouth. You can’t believe he said that to your aunt.

Levi takes your hand once more and you join together on the dance floor in time for a slow dance.

“Levi you really didn’t have to do any of that. Especially coming out to the dance floor. We had a deal,” you explain your arms around his neck.

Levi shrugs, “If it means I get to see that look on your aunt’s face, I’d do it again.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. You’re a special girl, so I’ll always make an exception,” Levi replies and locks eyes with you.

You can’t help, but blush, “So I’m a beautiful young lady huh?”

Levi’s eyes widen and you swear you see his cheeks get pink, “Was hoping you didn’t catch that. But yes, yes you are.”

You smile and rest your head on his chest, hearing the sound of his heartbeat ever so slightly.

You continue to sway to the music silently with Levi.

“Levi…” You break the silence between the two of you.

“Yes?” Levi asks with small confusion in his voice.

“What are we?” You ask. Recently, Levi and you have gotten really close. Closer than normal, but it’s a good close. You guys are always with each other, and if you’re not then you’re on the phone. You look forward to seeing him and feel butterflies in your stomach when you see him. You always thought Levi was attractive but you have always been best friends. Now it’s different.

Levi gulps, “I don’t know, honestly. I know we’ve always been best friends but I don’t know about you, but I feel like there’s something different.”

You pull away from his chest and look at him. Yes, something is different. “I think we might be stepping into more than best friends territory, Levi.”

Levi chuckles and you see that grin of his, “Yeah I think so too.”

You stare into each other's eyes for a while feeling the tension grow between the two of you.

“Can I kiss you,” Levi blurts out and breaks the tension.

Your heart skips a beat. You nod, “Yes, you can.”

Levi bends down to reach your lips. When your lips connect there’s an explosion like nothing would ever be able to explain. It feels natural. It feels right. It feels perfect.

You pull away first and the song ends. Your foreheads touching, “Wow,” you whisper.

“I think wow is an understatement,” Levi responds with a small laugh.

Levi guides you away from the dancefloor and holds your hand. You glance down and smile. You look up to him once more and he gives you a small smirk.

Maybe this is the one time that it’s okay to break a pinky promise.

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daemontargaryenwhore · 1 month

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I feel like Jean has the most patience with Mikasa and waits years to give her all the time to grieve, but inside he always wonders if he isn't enough.

also i think that even after the two get married and have children, Mikasa will always wonder if anyone can ever love her like Eren and she will always love Eren more and Jean will always wonder what if Marco were still alive.

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

Text

J. Kirschtein: the pretty boy from the sticks. (He gives me Louisiana/Texas vibes) The lover boy, the fashion aficionado, cologne snob, model and musician.

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thatlovelywitch · 6 months

Text

𝙰𝙾𝚃 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚄 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙿𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙴

A/N: first time writing hcs or anything remotely fanfic-esque in AGES (you might know me from my first acc @lostbbygorl lol i went MIA) but yeah actor au aot been living in my head rent free since the finale here ya go

✨ The finale was absolutely sensational and it lands EMA their first Oscar nominations which on top of the show ending makes them even more emotional

✨ In honor of the finale, the cast finally do an extended tour of the set and drop it on their official youtube channel

✨ Jean reposted that one edit of him (iykyk) and everyone went crazy

✨ Gabi is basically North West 💀

✨ Interviews with Gabi have the most views because she's unfiltered ash smh

✨ One of the older actors DEF kissed her cheek on the red carpet and our girl was dressed up and NOT playing she just calmly said "decorum" and wiped her cheek

✨ Yknow that interview of Britney Spears where she tells a reporter that her kissing scene was just pretend and as an adult the reporter shoulda known? Yep that was Gabi's energy when S4 P2 came out and she started getting mad hate for killing Sasha and a bunch of morons forgot aot is fictional

✨ Connie's stories outshine Jack Harlow's any day

✨ Ymir, Eren and Levi are brand ambassadors for YSL, Balenciaga and Dior respectively

✨ There was supposed to be a smexy scene in the cabin but both Eren and Mikasa felt it'd not add any value to the story and make people focus on the wrong things (+ both of them know that aot despite being very dark and mature has a lot of younger fans and they don't want to expose younger fans to anything more explicit than the founder's story)

✨ Reiner and Historia are very good friends off screen and for the finale they took a cute selfie and posted it on Reiner's insta with the caption: homewrecking rn

✨ Falco gets lessons on how to be tough and manly from Jean, Connie and Eren 💀💀💀💀💀

✨ "so you wanna puff up your chest and look real mean-"

✨ Hange humbled Andrew Tate on Twitter once

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luvrrgirl444 · 7 months

Text

chapter 14: genius

“hi, y/n and i’m here today with genius to explain the lyrics of my song ‘kill bill’.” you smiled at the camera.

“so, fun fact about kill bill is that it actually only took about 6 hours to produce. i, uh-” you laughed. “i saw this thing online and it made me feel some type of way, and i was like ‘i need to release what i feel right now.’ so, i took out my songbook and went crazy. i called up my friend jean, my producer, and i was crying,” you laughed again, and made a phone gesture with your hand and brought it up to your ear. “and i was like, ‘bro i just wrote these lyrics, can we make a song right now?’ and we did, in like 6 hours.”

VERSE 1

i’m still a fan even though i was salty

hate to see you with some other broad, know you happy

hate to see you happy if i’m not the one driving

“the person that this song is about is actually also an artist, and he’s actually really talented. so basically, i was saying that even though i hate that nigga,” you stuck up your middle finger. “he’s still a great artist, unfortunately. the next two lines are literal, uh, about a month, maybe a month and a half after we broke up, he was posted up with another girl. which was honestly really shitty because he broke up with me to ‘focus on his music’” you quirked your eyebrow and used quotation marks. “basically this whole song is about me being a jealous heartbroken bitch.” you sarcastically smiled.

PRE-CHROUS

i’m so mature, i’m so mature

i’m so mature, got me a therapist to tell me there’s other men

i don’t want none, i just want you

if i can’t have you, no one should

i might

“i was tryna convince myself that i was strong, and that this wasn’t hurting me as much as i thought it was, but it definitely was. literally wrote a whole muthafucking song about it.” you laughed. “we we’re dating for a long ass time to be honest, so with the ‘i don’t want none, i just want you’ lyric, it’s basically saying that i’ve been with you for so fucking long, it’s always been you, how am i supposed to move on, y’know? it’s lowkey corny but yeah. the last lyric is very um, yandere simulator vibes but it relates to the theme of the song, which is like jealousy and vengeance and possession.” you put your hands up. “don’t worry y’all, i’m not a criminal.”

CHORUS

i might kill my ex, not the best idea

his new girlfriend's next, how'd i get here?

i might kill my ex, i still love him though

rather be in jail than alone

“i can explain y’all, i’m not a killer or a criminal but imma be real, i was definitely having some intrusive thoughts. but everyone does. like, anyone who says they’ve never had thoughts about hurting someone that did them dirty, or fucked with them, they’re fucking lying, 100%. and relating to what i said before, we were together for so long. no matter how much i try to deny, the love is still there. it’s been built up for years, as much as i want to, i can’t magically forget it overnight.”

you continued on with singing the lyrics and explaining them until you completely finished the entire song.

“kill bill was an impulsive creation and release. we recorded and finished the song in like 6 hours, and i was like ‘i want to release this today’” you pointed downwards. “but everyone told me no.” you rolled your eyes. “so i asked when was the soonest we could release it, and it was like in 2 days. so the next day i posted on instagram saying that i was releasing a song tomorrow and that was it. there was no promo for it, which is why i’m so fucking shocked that it did so well. but, thank you to my fans, friends and family, i love you all. stream kill bill, album coming soon, bye!” you blew a kiss to the camera, before smiling and making heart with your hands.

comments

erenjaeger: whole lotta yip whole lotta yap

⤷ y/nsinterlude: BITCH

y/nsbby: ALBUM COMING SOON? HOW SOON IS SOON GIRL??

⤷ y/nsinterlude: im doing good wbu

valentinagomez: TE AMO MI AMOR 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾

⤷ y/nsinterlude: TE AMO HERMOSA 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾

user2000: i love u ur so real ❤️❤️

⤷ y/nsinterlude: im the realest i love u too 🤍

conswife: stop talking shit about connie omfg

shyshiloh: i just died 😵😵

⤷ y/nsinterlude: i’ll revive u bae

user182: not u still in love with that sick man..

⤷ y/nsinterlude: I DIDNT SAY THAT SHIT

jkirstein: professional yapper

⤷ y/nsinterlude: i’m beating your ass

user555: dont let c***** see that video..

🦋 !

- this chapter is fr just a whole lotta yapping but 🫣🫣

taglist! <3 @lovelytayy @cyberkitty1 @sqlty @cr0quis @koreluvsspring @asp7n @lottiematthewsceo @shidousmainluvr @idontknowwhatnametochoosee @drugzforyou @astrokatsuki @crvzy-fujoshi @ncentic @ilyconnie @stellartoi @bubbabobabubbles @tee4str

#aot smau #connie springer #eren jaeger #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #attack on titan #fake tweets #shingeki no kyojin #x black reader #jean kirstein #anime smau #genius #musician au #luvrrgirl444

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savkirschtein · 2 months

Text

ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

modern college au

Jean Kirstein x f!reader

warnings: literally just Jean being infatuated with you…that’s it. College party. Mentions of alcohol, making out, drunkenness, slight stalking.

You were someone who kept to yourself often, not in the sense that you were particularly shy, but it was more so you liked to keep your circle of friends small. It kept your friendships easy to manage, and easy to keep up with. But for your childhood best friend Sasha, that was not the case, what so ever.

Queenie had friends, acquaintances, and plugs, EVERYWHERE.

You and Sasha only got to see each other every once in a while when she was able to come home, due to the fact that she moved away and was enrolled at SSU (Shiganshina University). Meanwhile you, because of some money issues, along with a sprinkle of poorly made decisions in Highschool went straight into Community College after graduating.

The distance was never a problem though, you guys would call each other all the time. And she would keep you up to date on all the crazy things she would be doing, along with all the friends she had made.

Always talking about the same three dudes Connie, Marco, and Jean. Whom she quickly befriended in one of her communications classes.

When you had told her you were going to be able to transfer early, and be enrolled into SSU, she absolutely flipped. So thrilled that her best friend would be able to join and experience all the craziness with her. Talking up and down about how you're going to fit in great with her newfound friends.

You enjoyed hearing all the insane things that she did with them. And more than anything, loved how clearly happy they seemed to make her. As well as how well they treated Sasha (having been skeptical of three guys and their intentions with your best friend). Those feelings quickly being put to rest after Sasha's dozens of stories of them and their many escapades in which they've had to take care of Sasha after one too many drinks.

Learning all of their names and all of their quirks came easy with how much she was around them, and how much she talked of them with you.

Watching from a distance you were able to see some of those moments she would gush about, play out due to Sasha posting on her social medias. Whether it be pictures on Instagram, or videos she would share on her private story on Snapchat.

From those small snip bits that she would share though, someone always seemed to catch your eye. The tall, lean, hot headed one, with the ash brown mullet, always yelling at Sasha and Connie in her snaps.

Jean. Your best friend said his name was.

Sasha talked about the three guys all of the time, and from what she would tell you about Jean, he seemed like a cool guy.

An art major, on the Uni Lacrosse team, who was hot-headed, hilarious, and spontaneous. Stoic exterior but has a heart of gold on the inside…well at least from what you heard from Sasha. Though you didn't know him personally, you had a slight interest to him already.

But what you didn’t know was that slight interest went both ways.

Sasha talked about you ALL. THE. TIME. Not that the boys minded, it was cool to them that she had a loyal best friend, who has stuck around through all of her phases, through all of the years, like you. And as her best friends it clearly meant a lot to Sasha for them to know about you.

And when she did talk of you, she spoke of you, holding you in such high regards. Talking about how hilarious you were, or about how you were one of the most down to earth and genuine people she knew. Hearing how great of a person you were through Sasha, along with the memories she shared, made Jean’s interest in you pique.

Jean felt like he knew you personally with how much he had heard about you. When he and Sasha became friends, he had only ever seen a few old picture of you two, which was from when you guys graduated highschool and some from Sasha’s 18th birthday on her instagram. But other than that not much else, and even if he did want to just check your profile, for science of course, you were private.

And he felt it would be odd and cause a stir of him to ask Sasha to look at her profile, especially since Connie and Marco didn't have such an interest in you to go out of their ways to do the same. Jean felt it would arise questions, which he would much rather dodge rather than succumbing to his own curiosity.

Until Sasha had come back after break from home, and showed him, Connie, and Marco a video of you cussing out, and roasting the shit out of a man. Who was unsolicitedly hitting on another one of your good friends, and making her uncomfortable. Taken when you guys were out, celebrating your birthday at a bar in your guys' hometown.

And for some reason that video had him hooked. From your witty and cunning remarks to the pervert hitting on your friend. To how beautiful you looked in the short, black, satin dress that adorned your body perfectly. Along with how attractive it was that you were so protective of your friends.

And from the pictures Sasha posted from that night of you guys afterwards??? Good lord, Jean went on a little bit of an adventure looking through your instagram account and your pictures after seeing you changed your account to a public one afterwards.

To have a more clear face to put to the person he had heard of so often made him all the more curious to meet you in person. Especially after Sash had finally told him and the other guys that you would be transferring soon.

When you had managed to move into your own small studio apartment just a walk away from the university, Sasha was there already to help you unpack and decorate.

"Give me one reason right now, as to why I SHOULDN’T gauge your eyes out." Sasha holds up an old picture in a plain white frame, from you both on your eighth grade promotion, holding up your diplomas, arms around each other's shoulders. Sasha unfortunately in the picture caught mid sneeze, with you smiling big and bright under her arm.

"It's the only picture I have from that day." You laugh, rolling your eyes at her. Wiping excess dust on the back of your jeans, from the boxes you carried, watching her fake gagging at the precious momento.

"So its your first night as an SSU student..." Sasha tiptoes timidly in her voice, eager to talk about anything else. Then hanging the framed picture on the naked wall. But from the tone in her voice you could tell she was going to try and convince you to do something you probably didn't want to.

"Sash-"

"NOW BEFORE YOU SHUT ME DOWN, THIS COMES WITH A SASHA MADE BREAKFAST AND DINNER INCLUDED." She is quick to cut you off before you can shut her down. You only nod at her with your arms crossed, waiting for her to continue. Slightly influenced at the offer already.

"Well...plead your case then."

"There is a party tonight that I was invited to, and..."

"And you want me to go?" You raise your eyebrow.

"IT WILL BE A DOPE PARTY I-"

"Let’s go then." You say nonchalantly, making Sasha go wide eyed and start screaming in excitement as she shook your shoulders.

From there Sasha had gone to her own apartment to get ready after helping you pick out an outfit, leaving you on your own to go through your own getting ready routine. Picking out jewelry and putting on makeup.

As you were finishing up you get a last minute text from her.

Sash👩‍❤️‍👩: IM SO SORRY BB, I HAVE TO HEAD TO THE PARTY NOW I HAVE TO CHECK ON CONNIE, MARCO SAID HE PREGAMED A LIL TOO HARD

Sash👩‍❤️‍👩: will you be okay showing up on your own? i have absolutely no problem coming back to pick you up!

After reassuring her multiple times over text, and even more over Facetime that you would be fine, you then leave your apartment on your own.

Following the gps’ directions, you eventually pull up to the packed house with blaring music coming from the inside, people scattered on the outside lawn and packed on the inside.

As you enter you smile at what was laid out before you. The craziness of college life in university was everything Sasha described it to be.

Drunken students letting loose and dancing everywhere. Cheering to more drinks as they hold up their red solo cups. People making out left and right, living every second up before the sun rises that would return them back to their stressful lives as broke college students who had unknown futures.

This aspect of college is what you weren't able to experience fresh out of highschool due to going to a CC. Seeing Sasha get to experience it all and have fun doing it made you so happy for her. But you couldn’t help but feel as if you were missing out on a crucial part of what life is supposed to be as a young adult. And to just stand in the middle of it made it all so real and raw, this was definitely an experience that has been missing all along.

You were so caught up in everything happening around you, that you couldn't feel someone’s eyes burning into your presence from afar.

As soon as you entered the front door, you caught Jean's eye immediately.

The chaos of the party and the people around him subsided. The alcohol clouding his judgement having him buzzed had disappeared, and the sight of you sobered him up immediately. You were really here in the flesh. And looked as beautiful as ever, starry eyed wonder and excitement filling your aura and the space you took up as you were people watching. It only made him hope to be able to catch your attention.

When you had began to weave your way through people, Jean's feet that had him stuck just watching you, immediately uprooted from his place to follow you.

As you were making your way through the house, which was seemingly so much bigger than it looked on the outside, trying to the best of your ability to look for Sasha, you see that you had only reached another dead end.

When you turn around to retrace your steps, your face is immediately met with a warm and hard surface. Your senses begin to be flooded with scents of vanilla, spicy sandalwood, and a note of beer. With hot hands meeting you at your elbows, to steady you from tripping.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry." You say quickly, without taking into account the stranger who you had just ran into. Just as your about to continue your search for Sasha, you feel that the stranger doesn't let you go right away.

Craning your head upwards, you’re met with the eyes of you had just ran into. Taking in light brown orbs with gold inflects of a tall stranger that you immediately recognize to unmistakably be, Jean.

"No that was my bad, are you okay?" He begins searching your eyes genuinely. When his hands drop from your elbows, you relish in whatever warmth was left.

"Oh no I'm alright, are you good?" You ask in return, looking right into his bright eyes, taking note of his beautifully long dark brown lashes. Not at all noticing the tint of pink painting his nose, or how red his ears were turning.

For a moment he doesn't even answer, he just shamelessly looks at you. The buzz giving him more confidence than he would like to admit. Taking in your features, noting in his head how the videos Sasha had shown of you doesn't do nearly as much justice to how breathtaking you are in person. Every picture he had seen of you didn’t capture the amount of beauty you held right in front of him, in this moment.

His eyes travel down your body, looking at how your outfit and your style complimented your figure perfectly. Or how your hair falls and frames your face perfectly, tempting him for a second to reach out and tuck the stray piece behind your ear.

And for a split second you do the same as well, taking note of his perfectly messy mullet, to the silver chain that adorned his neck, and the variety of silver rings, and earrings on his hands and ears. Bringing his outfit of a tight white shirt, and clean cut, black collared Carthartt jacket together. Although the jacket is slightly bigger, you can tell right away how well built he was. From his broad shoulders, or his chest puffing out from his white shirt.

Damn those videos and pictures of him really don't do him justice to him in person.

As you both stand in the middle of the uncrowded hallway, you completely forget where you are and what you were here for. With the lights going into a blur, the loud music fading out, and the only thing you can focus on was him. Almost as if your attention to him was keeping a grip on you to the floor beneath you instead of gravity. And for a split second looking into his fiery eyes, you swear he felt the same?

"I-I'm-" You stutter, trying to rid yourself of the warmth, and the butterflies flooding your stomach. But before you could even collect your words—

"You're Y/N." He finishes your shy introduction for you, revealing his perfectly aligned teeth in a smirk. Noticing your cheeks begin to blush hues of red. In return making him nervous, he then reaches his hand clumsily out to you to shake.

“I’m—” Taking his much larger hand into yours, with his slender fingers wrapping around your hand. Feeling a variety of rings graze the inside of your palm.

“Jean…” You finish his introduction, as he did you. Which now it was his turn to be shy..so you knew about him too? Just as he was about to speak again, you’re both knocked out of your daze. Literally.

“AGHHH YOU’RE HEREEE!!” Sasha tugs you into a tight embrace, as if she didn’t just see you over two hours ago. The force of her hug making you and Jean let go of each other’s hands. With two tall figures at her side watching her excitement with fond smiles on their faces. One of them then stepping forward after Sash had finally let you go.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Marco.” The tall freckled cutie in the cream t-shirt and brown flannel speaks up. Then stepping forward bashfully, reaching out to shake your hand gently.

As you finish shaking his hand, you avert your attention to the slightly shorter male. Orange fisherman beaning on his head, with a slightly outgrown fade peaking from underneath, wearing an army green crew neck, and silver chain and studs. Whom you immediately recognize to be Sasha’s accomplice.

“You didn’t tell me she was THIS fine in person Sash.” Connie shamelessly checks you out, which earns him a flick to his forehead from Sasha. And a smack upside the back of his head from Jean. Making Marco laugh behind you. While you giggle as well watching the group dynamic.

“WELL seems like you and Jean met already.” Your best friend grins, glad to see that both and Jean seemed to have gotten off on the right foot already. Making you and the semi-stranger look back at each other. Zoning in on him again, as he does you. Exchanging small smiles and nods.

“Well I hope he didn’t annoy you, or leave a bad impression.” Sasha cuts the tension once more unknowingly. Making Jean feel slightly more embarrassed with her choice of words.

“Yeah he can be a bit of an ass sometimes Y/N, so you just gotta be prepared for that.” Connie adds on, just to get a rise out of Jean. Then receiving a glare from him, and a snort out of Marco.

“I swear you two—” Jean despite his flustered state, was still ready to chew out his two knuckle head friends by instinct, before getting cut off.

“I mean he did kind of save me from tripping and eating shit at my first college party so, I’d say he’s alright.” You speak out with a small nod, making Jean’s eyes soften and his voice go quiet, as his full attention reverts to you. His once furrowed brows now relaxed with an airy chuckle coming out. He scratches the back of his neck before hitting you back with a response.

“Well you are pretty “alright” yourself.” Jean retorts, quoting you with his finger quotation marks. Careless and relaxed expression on his face as he only focuses on you. Not breaking eye contact even for a second or letting his smile fall from his face.

His three best friends are quick to take note at how Jean’s demeanor changed at your voice and within your little exchange.

Sasha though being a woman for one, and both of your best friends for two, was able to read you both immediately. Your small shy nods, the way your voice hitched up a small pitch signaling that you were nervous. Jean, trying his best to not look like he had a stick up his ass, the way he scratched his neck.

Of course it could just be coincidence, but Sasha and her bestie intuition never fails.

“Let’s go back I heard they’re about to do beer pong.” Sasha exclaims as she loops her arm with your own, walking before the boys down the hall. Trying to snatch you away in hopes of a bit of debriefing.

Jean is about to catch up, before Marco and Connie pull him back, both giving him knowing looks. He only answers with furrowed brows, waiting for his friends to answer as to why they’re holding him up.

“…you think she’s cute huh.” Connie teases, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, with his arms crossed to his chest. Marco knowing his best friend well enough, doesn’t even need to say anything to know that Connie wasn’t far off the mark.

“W-What? The hell are you two talking about? We barely just met her.” Jean very quickly responds. Defensive in his tone, a little TOO defensive if you ask. Marco only lets out a small chuckle through his nose because his best friend’s response only proved the theory correct.

“She’s just a friend of a friend. You both are on one. seriously.” Jean pushes past his best friends, quick to brush them off and leave this interrogation behind. All to prevent getting pressed any further with any other RIDICULOUS accusations.

Marco and Connie stand in the hall watching their friend stock off and rush downstairs. Looking back at each other, they both laugh as they haven’t seen Jean act this way in a while.

But really Jean was also trying to do anything to avoid his red ears being seen. As well as get his loudly thumping heart out of earshot from anyone. Swearing that the pounding in his ears from his heart would be able to be heard outwardly by anyone with ears.

You were just a friend of a friend. He had barely just met you in person for the first time. And yet here he was running off at the first signs of being caught in the act of crushing like a school kid.

#aot modern au #attack on titan headcanons #savkirschtein #aot college au #jean x reader #jean imagines #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #connie springer #sasha braus #marco bodt #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot x reader

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braunbakery · 3 days

Note

oohh can it be like ‘are we still friends?’ a modern au? that’s one of my favs ❤️

don't delete the kisses

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader [ one-shot word count: 4.2k]

☞ sfw, angst with fluff at the end i promiseeeee, modern college au

☞ plot: 'rewriting old excuses, delete the kisses at the end' - even after you break up - jean kirstein seems to occupy a lot more space in your head than you'd care to admit.

☞ inspired by don't delete the kisses - wolf alice

☞ don't delete the kisses

when you and jean first broke up it was more so a scramble to make sure everything was okay for everybody around you. that everything could resolve to being as close to normal as before without anyone feeling in anyway inconvenienced, awkward, or disappointed due to the rift now between the two of you.

at least, that was what it was like for you.

of course people wanted to make sure you were okay, they were your friends and they cared about you. but they were both of your friends, and despite how much everyone wanted to pretend that that made no difference, it made it all the more difficult to even imagine talking about how you felt. (how you actually felt – which was more than disappointed or frustrated or a little upset – as you had been basically rattling off like a mantra to whoever asked.)

so you adapted.

you made friends outside of this mutual friend group, you adopted new hobbies, you had a means of escape when you no longer wanted to watch everyone laugh over jean’s antics like he was such a breath of joy. when you felt this bitter pessimism sink in at the wrong time, you adapted.

because it definitely wasn’t a dramatic break up. it was perfectly amicable.

(“i’m so sorry,” jean practically sobs into your shoulder as you both sit in his dark car, shrouded by the trees outside and only accompanied by crickets and the occasional distant car horn.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you’re repeating over and over, swallowing your own tears, “i’ll be fine.”

“i just can’t do it–” jean hiccups and slightly leans back to hold your face in his palms and nudge his nose against yours, “ i don’t know why...i just can’t. and i’m trying, i swear.”

“i believe you,” you whisper, grasping onto his shirt, “i know you are.”

“i- i’ve never felt this way about anyone else. i’m just not ready.”

you can’t bring yourself to say anything back to that. you don’t want him to see you break and you don’t know if it’s because you don’t want him to tear himself apart with the guilt of what he’s doing to you or from some twisted sense of pride – some desire to make sure he doesn’t think he has as much of an effect on you as he really does.

it seems worse that he can tearfully speak of how much he feels for you yet he’s still unable to actually be with you.

you know that the truth is you probably won’t be fine. that in your heart, in your soul, you would’ve stayed with him for as long as possible. there was no thought in your head of when this would potentially end, no plan in the future that didn’t somehow automatically account for him.

this obviously wasn’t the case for him.

he hugs you tighter than he ever has before and you feel like your heart is about to lurch out of your body and try batter its way into his. why must it be that when you are completely and utterly committed to him, he is hindered by some unexplainable force in his mind to do the same for you? why can’t it be another girl? why can’t it be that he’s moving away? why does it have to be just…him?

“i’m sorry,” he says a final time after he drives you to your doorstep. he holds your hand and gazes at you one last time and you can’t help but offer him a smile to try ease his pain. it is too difficult for you to feel in anyway betrayed, at least in this moment, because you are too busy thinking of how he feels. you want to hold him for the rest of the night as he sobs and sobs about hurting you.

you feel utterly pathetic.

that night, when you are finally in your bed, you let the first feeling that isn’t in some way catering to him through. it is the sensation of your heart caving in. )

eventually it gets easier. the concerned glances go from sparse to none and you follow almost a routine. when you pass each other on campus it’s a friendly smile, when you’re seated next to each other you act as if it is anyone else, and when you’re at the same parties and he kisses someone you turn away and hold your breath and hope no one can tell.

you pretend that it was never you on the receiving end, that it was never you laughing away with him or swaying to whatever stupid song is playing, or holding his hand as you weave through the crowd, or occupying one single corner of the room for the majority of the night or–

you just pretend.

and when the group brings up dates jean is going on that you had no idea about, you do that very thing. you sit and you nod and when he catches your gaze as the boys are practically squawking over stupid jokes about jean and how he is somehow going to mess it up, you rip your eyes away and laugh along.

when sasha and mikasa ask how you feel about it, you pretend it makes perfect sense that he’d be going on dates. that it isn’t so utterly confusing, that you aren’t going to lay awake at night wondering why he couldn’t be with you – why he wasn’t ready for you – but he is ready to entertain the idea of someone else. you laugh and you say you wish him luck.

luck is what friends wish each other.

and when you kiss someone yourself, you bury the darkest feeling of hoping he’d see and feel a pang – feel anything more than the baseline friendliness you’ve both resorted to having for each other. that you’ve agreed to only have for each other.

(“fuck, sorry!” jean exclaims before he even realises that the person he’s just walked into and spilled half of his beer on is you.

“shit,” the sticky liquid is soaking through your shirt and is currently trailing its way down your body. you look up at him and you hate that you can tell the redness lightly painted on his cheeks is more so from his alcohol buzz and less from the embarrassment of spilling his drink down a girls shirt.

because it’s you. why would he be embarrassed around you? he knows–

he knew you inside and out.

“i didn’t see you, i swear,” he says, but the genuineness of his apology is given away by the cheeky smile adorning his face, “suits you though.”

“shut up, jean,” you quickly remark, taking off your jacket and trying to pat yourself dry.

“here,” and jean is suddenly taking off the plaid shirt he has thrown on top of his t-shirt and using it to pat you down. or more so using it for his sad attempt at helping.

“i don’t think that’s really doing anything, jean.”

“no, no. trust me,” he quickly interjects, and you can’t help but mirror the stupid smile he has on his face.

“jean, it’s fine. i’ll just get a paper tow– ”you attempt to side step him, but he’s shoved in front of you, still pushing his shirt to your top. but this time he’s a lot closer.

this time if you just reached up to your tip toes, you could brush your nose against his. and you’re suddenly hyperaware of your proximity and how there is no one else around you and how the blaring music of whatever party your group all decided to go to tonight is all but muffled in this kitchen.

jean’s eyes travel up from the stain on your top to you and you feel like you’re frozen in place. it’s been months since you broke up – a year maybe. you’ve both watched each other kiss other people, you’ve listened to him recount those stupid dates and pretend you don’t harbour some kind of bitter resentment towards him for it.

but right now it seems like no time at all has passed.

it seems like only yesterday you were leaning into each other, just like you are now. it seems like only yesterday jean’s hand slowly but instinctively went up to the side of your neck, like it is now. you’ve never realised how easy it is to fall into old habits.

“jean?” you mutter faintly, and he looks down at your lips mouthing his name and you swear you think your heart is going to stop. his eyes flick back up to you and you can see yourself through them.

“yeah?” he mindlessly responds, “are you okay?”

are you? you could kiss him now. you could let him kiss you now. just for a moment. and tomorrow you’d make yourself forget, tomorrow you’d pretend it was one big blip – something just between you and him.

when you nod your head at his question his hand slides up into the hair at your nape and it feels so familiar, so comfortable, that it is so easy to forget you have not been this close to jean in almost a year. you have not spent this much time alone with jean in almost a year. you have not heard him not speak to you in the same transactional tone you’d speak to a shop assistant with in almost a year.

“i –”

the door to the kitchen is opening behind you and you’re both practically jumping away from each other, hearts beating so fast against your chests and eyes wide and worried. jean watches whoever’s interrupted whatever weird moment you were having rummage through the cupboards and looks back at you.

“i’ll see you–” you start.

“later.” he instinctively finishes off for you, before pausing for a moment and making his way around you and back out into the bustling party.

you don’t see him for the rest of the night.)

it does really start feel like you’re friends sometimes. and you suppose living with that just becomes a way of life. the weird lingering feeling when you first see him still remains – but it starts to feel normal. you start to simply allow it the space to live and hope that on its own accord it’ll leave.

and sometimes, with all the time that has passed and all the other flings with boys you’ve had, it feels stupid. and sometimes, you’re tired of feeling stupid so you just feel it.

you text about assignments in classes you share, you text about carpooling when jean is bringing a few of you somewhere. and, yes, it is the most surface level friendship and the conversation will never really expand from those two topics and maybe you are yet to actually spend any time together alone. maybe there is some hidden agenda between your friends to not let there be moments where you two have to be alone – but this is better than whatever the lonely alternative would be.

however, it seems whatever way your friends have been figuring out to not have you two alone for the past year and a half (disregarding the party incident – they will never know about that) is failing.

because you’re currently stranded at a bus stop for a bus that doesn’t look like it will ever come, trying to make it to connie’s house for his goodbye party before he goes away for the summer and almost an hour late. because you’re staring down at your phone trying to figure out how you feel, trying to reason with your gritted teeth and racing heart that everything will be okay.

staring down at jean’s message into the group chat you all share after you’ve explained your situation.

jean

Only leaving mine now I’ll swing by and get you

fuck.

this is not something you have a plan for. this is not a situation that you’ve dealt with before in the tribulations that have followed your break up. this doesn’t have a solution tucked away in your head. there is no adapting to this, there is no pretending, there is just you alone with jean in his car for the first time since you broke up. the last time you were in that stupid fucking car was when you broke up and oh god, what a joke.

you know he’s driving and he won’t check his phone so there’s no point in telling him not to and figuring out some alternative transport. and you know he’s not waiting for some confirmation from you because…because you know him.

cars are speeding past you and you’re trying so hard to get a handle on your thoughts but you can’t seem to just get a grip. it feels like every next car is going to be him. you turn your back to the road and try to start writing some kind of text to mikasa…but what is there to even say?

you’ve crafted the perfect unbothered-about-jean persona over the past year and a half. you’ve basically mastered a straight face whenever a crude joke is made about him and whatever girl he’s casually seeing, you’ve perfected acting completely normal when asked about him – you cannot give yourself away.

no, you refuse to give yourself away.

“hey!” a voice bellows out from behind you, and you can instinctively tell that when you turn around it’s going to be jean with his elbow hanging out his open car window. so you do – you turn around (and you’re right about his exact pose, but that’s a victory you don’t allow yourself to celebrate) and you make your way to the passenger side, get in, close the door and brace yourself.

“thanks for getting me,” you say as you put on your seat belt and jean pulls out onto the road.

“no worries.”

it’s only when you’re well on your way that you can think of something else to say – any kind of bland conversation to cut you out of your thoughts.

“how come you’re late?”

“how come you are?” jean almost instinctively says.

“no need to get defensive,” you laugh.

“what can i say,” jean smiles, “i’m quite a private person.”

“oh, really?”

“yep,” he swiftly responds, eyes darting to you before he sighs, “i fell asleep watching a movie.”

now you’re cackling, “of course you did, jean.” you try not to notice the corners of his mouth turning upwards as you laugh and he focuses on the road.

“you didn’t say why you were, i can’t be the only one revealing all here.”

“i wouldn’t say this is revealing all,” you say and jean animatedly rolls his eyes, “i was at work.”

“oh,” jean replies, “work…where’re you working now?” he asks with such hesitance, like it’s almost rude for him to want to know anything about your life beyond what he knew when he was with you and the bits and pieces he can put together from everyone else. you try not to think about how you wish you could tell him everything – everything that has changed and everything that hasn’t.

“the same shop.”

“that shop is a shithole–”

“hey!” you’re immediately interjecting and jean is chuckling at your offense.

“it is!”

jean starts swatting your hand away with one hand as you try to punch him in his arm, laughing in a way you haven’t heard him for a while. in a way you haven’t had a chance to hear.

“take it back, take it back” you’re repeating in between lunges and jean exclaiming ‘you’re gonna get us both killed’ and ‘i’m literally driving’.

“fine! i take it back!” he’s saying as the car finally comes to a standstill in a long line of traffic. he looks over to you for the first time this entire ride, turning his entire head and scanning your face. you hope your composure holds, “all i’m trying to say is that it doesn’t deserve you.”

you really hope your composure holds.

“right,” you say after a pause. jean’s eyes flit between yours and you feel like maybe there’s something more you’re supposed to say. maybe there’s something more he’s trying to say. or maybe the ultimately doomed remnants of your feelings towards him combined with his unwavering stare and tapping fingers on his wheel are making you think things and see things that don’t make sense.

jean only turns his head back to the road when a car horn blares behind him and he realises the light’s gone green.

“fuck,” jean raises his hand up to the driver and then glances at you as the car moves again, “sorry.”

“distracted,” you quip, and jean laughs again.

“i guess you could say that.”

“what’s on your mind?” you ask.

“huh? nothing.” his head momentarily turns to you, “beer.” and you both break out into the same smiles you used to wear around each other without noticing.

“not your familiar brigade of girls?” you’re saying without realising, and before you can even begin to regret your stupidly pointed joke, jean is guffawing so loudly you’re convinced he’s going to run the next red light.

“brigade?!” he questions, looking at you with wide eyes, “you’re making me sound like some sort of…” he loses his words and you feel maybe you really did take him by surprise with your unexpected candour.

“some sort of what?” you implore.

jean is silent, then turns to you with feigned annoyance and a twinkle in his eye, “shut up.”

and you’re both laughing and looking at each other and there it is again. that twinkle. that sparkle. you could miss it if you didn’t know exactly where to find it from so long ago.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you can tell connie’s house is nearby. jean speaks first, “i can assure you there’s no such brigade.”

you snigger, “i don’t need to be assured.”

then jean is pulling into connie’s house and you can slightly make out music blaring from inside and silhouettes through the drawn curtains and the last bit of light from the late summer sun. he turns off the engine and you wait for him to take out his keys, yet he never does. you stare at the door handle, yet never go to pull it. neither one of you is making a move and when you turn your head to him, he’s already looking at you.

“i– ” “i–” you both attempt to start simultaneously, and then cut yourselves off with laughter.

“we haven’t spoken properly in so long,” jean eventually starts, “like this i mean.” (your heart is in your throat. you wonder if he can make out its outline when he looks at you.)

“yeah,” you softly say, “i know.”

“it’s nice.”

“it is.”

you’re looking at each other in silence again, and you can tell that his mind is racing with thoughts and he’s waiting to see which one catches onto his tongue and makes its way out. you think he can probably tell the same about you. it’s like some kind of competition, some game on who is going to keep this conversation going so you can stay in the car together for longer. alone.

you wonder if anyone inside has peeked through the window and noticed yet.

“you know…” jean speaks again and you are internally grateful, because you don’t think you can trust yourself to say anything right now, “you know, i notice that you avoid me, right?”

“that is not true.”

jean practically giggles at your immediate denial.

“it is,” he says, “it’s fine. i think i understand.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i–” jean trips over his own words, like they keep getting muddled in his mouth and he has to sound them out in his head before he can continue, “like… i can imagine it’s not easy. it wasn’t for me.”

your eyebrows instinctively raise, “it wasn’t?”

he laughs, and you suppose it is stupid to assume that he wasn’t in anyway upset about breaking up or stressed about having to maintain a friendship with you. you suppose it was easier to assume he didn’t care about you, like he was some kind of heartless villain.

“well, was it for you?”

you pause. a decision: how honest can you be with the person that seems to have haunted you for so long?

“no,” you shake your head, “not really. not at first.”

now jean’s eyebrows raise, “so it is now?”

“i… i don’t know,” the words practically tumble out of you, “why are you asking?”

your phone buzzes in your lap and both of your eyes instinctively dart to the lit up screen.

mikasa

You coming in?

you look back up at the house and can spot the curtain rustling. you’ve been noticed. but when you look back at jean, regardless of whatever audience might be wondering what you two are still doing in the car, you still have no desire to leave. this might be the only chance you have to finally be honest with yourself – with anyone – about how you feel.

you take a deep breath, and jean watches you carefully.

“you…” you try to start, unsure of what you’re saying or what you’re trying to achieve, “you know you really hurt me?”

“i know,” jean nods, regret undeniably flashing in his eyes, “i will always feel so bad–”

“you made me feel…small. like i wasn’t enough–”

“you are enough,” jean looks like he’s almost pleading with you. it feels like you’re back in his car on that damned night. like you’re back walking on eggshells and waiting for one to finally pierce through your foot.

“then…then why would you go on dates when you said you weren’t ready for a relationship? that you couldn’t do it?”

your throat feels raw and tight. you cannot break in front of him again. jean seems surprised to hear his words from that night repeated back to him.

“i don’t know. it was stupid,” he breathes, “i…i was trying to forget.”

“forget what?”

“forget you.”

it feels like if the world was to collapse around you, you would not be able to bat an eyelid if you were to remain in this car with jean. it’s a terrifying thought and it feels like the rush of your blood and the pulsing of your heart is going to get too big for your body and you’re going to burst.

“and did it help?” you slowly ask – and you don’t know why. you don’t know why it matters. you’re over. you’ve been over. whatever he answers doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything. it won’t change anything.

right?

jean is staring at you with enough intent to make you want to melt, like he means to take in every part of your face and sear it into his memory. it makes your head foggy.

“i…” jean’s chest is rising and falling and only then do you notice that yours is as well. and you are out of breath.

“you?”

“i was scared. you’re… you’re so good and i’m–” he’s practically mumbling. but you can hear him, you always hear him, “i don’t know what i am. it just felt like i was going to ruin you.”

suddenly a tear is rolling down your cheek. and another and another and jean is leaning into you like he’s meaning to catch them.

“why didn’t you say that?” you whisper.

“because i didn’t deserve you,” he says like it is the most obvious thing, “i don’t deserve you.”

“jean…” your hand is reaching up to his jaw, and you’re cupping his cheek without even thinking, thumb swiping over stubble, “that’s not true.”

“i don’t say the right things,” jean interjects, “i don’t do the right things. i never did. it just feels like i’ve been living in…some fucking limbo around you.” he leans his head on your hand, and then slowly picks up your other one and laces his fingers through it.

his hand fits like always. like it’s meant to.

you sigh, “what do you want from me, jean?”

“for you to not hate me.”

you giggle, “unfortunately, i could never hate you.” you feel his teeth against your palm as he beams at you, eyes watering and heart pounding.

“i… i want you.”

“really this time?”

“there was never a time i didn’t.”

he peers at you, like he’s trying to see into your head and unravel your thoughts one by one to read for himself. this time when he nestles his head into your hand again, he brings his head closer and closer to you, until you feel his breath fanning your damp cheeks.

nose to nose.

“please just let me…” he murmurs, eyes unwavering and hand gripping yours.

“okay,” you say softly, and he’s slowly but surely kissing you like you’re made of glass. like any wrong move and you will crumble right in front of him. you can feel the final tears that were resting on your waterline make their way down your face and he pulls away to let go of your hand and wipe them away.

he presses his lips to the exact spot on your cheek where they once were.

“i’m not stupid anymore,” he says. you laugh quietly.

“okay.”

“and i want you.”

you nod your head and he smiles, then kisses you again.

#jean x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot angst #aot fluff #jean kirstein fluff #snk fic #snk x reader #aot college #aot moderm au #jean kirstein fic

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