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hanuh · 3 years ago

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The Loft | Pilot Episode |

Summary | Eren Jaeger is desperate to find a place to live after arriving to LA. He comes across a Craigslist ad that’s right in his budget and down the block from his new job. Seems perfect, right?

Genre | comedy, fluff, smut

Wordcount | 4K

Pairing | Eren x Reader slight Armin x Reader

Warnings | Language, alcohol, explicit talk, mentions of smut, breakups and mentions of death

Notes | This is inspired by New Girl, so let’s call this our New Girl AU. This is just a short little intro before we get into it. Some quotes from the show used throughout the series!

“Do you guys think if your phone’s cracked you can like lose information? Can it just fall out of the cracks? Does the cloud catch it? Is that what the cloud is?” Connie shoved a mouthful of Fruity Pebbles in his mouth before he looked up from his cereal which he decided was best to put in a pot. Why go back for seconds when you could just have a bigger bowl- Was his argument to Jean.

You and Jean couldn’t help but gawk at Connie. The two of you side-eyed each other and share a look that read- How has this man survived this long in life.

You downed the last of your coffee which was 60% Baileys 20% Kahlua 10% Vodka and 10% coffee from the day before’s pot. “I’m way too hungover for this.” You slapped Jean’s back making him choke on his spoonful of grapefruit at the impact. “All you, kid.”

Jean caught his breath as he peered at you with a weak glare. He cleared his throat looking back at Connie. Connie held the large pot up to his mouth chugging back the cereal milk, the sugary liquid ran down his neck soaking into his thrifted D.A.R.E. shirt. Jean made a mental note to no longer use that pot for pasta. “Connie, I mean this in the most respectful way when I say, were you dropped as a baby?”

Connie rolled his head around his neck and flopped it towards Jean. His silver eyes narrowed, “Jean, you’re going to have to stop being so mean to me or else I swear to god I’m going to fall in love with you.”

“Seriously Con Con,” You stood from the spinny desk chair you found down the block a year ago and walked towards the kitchen to make another cup of ‘coffee’. “No more talking about the cloud before 10 am it confuses Jean. Ideally, we never talk about it again.”

“How does it work?” Jean muttered making you roll your eyes from behind the cluttered kitchen island. This only confirmed in your mind that you’re basically running a shelter for men rejected by society.

“If I can’t talk about the cloud then what else are we going to talk about? Work? I will run a bath with bubbles and lavender salts only to hop in with the toaster if I have to listen about Jean’s job.” Connie slammed the pot down on the dining table, his glare not even for a millisecond wavered from Jean’s face. “Seriously, dude. Every time you talk about your job I understand it less and less. Why are your clients potatoes? Literally. They’re literal potatoes.”

You snort as you dumped the last few drops of Smirnoff into your ‘I Hate Mondays’ Garfield mug. You reached under the island for a fresh bottle, “Seriously Jean last year you said you were working with sponges. What does that even mean?”

Connie threw his arms up with a cheer. “Thank you! You’re on my side!”

Jean’s eye twitched at Connie’s hooting and fist-pumps, “I run advertisements for companies, I don’t sign on actual potatoes. I work for the-”

“Boooo!”

“Boooooo!” You and Connie both yelled at Jean until you’re positive he wouldn’t utter another word of about his job. You grabbed a rag off the counter and threw it at Jean’s head for extra measure. It impacts with a slosh, whatever mysterious liquid it had absorbed now dripped down his cheeks. Jean rips the sopping cloth from his face with a huff.

“Hey!” He tossed it on the ground with a wet slap and wagged a finger at you. “Jack Sparrow, what’s with all the booze?”

Connie sniffed the air like a bloodhound and waved a hand in front of his nose. “Yeah, I can smell you from over here.”

Jean stood from his chair making it screech against the hardwood floors. After a couple of big strides he came to your side and ripped the bottle of Baileys from your small, yet strong, grip. You pouted at him as he hid it behind his back. His golden gaze locked to your glossy stare. Your bloodshot eyes stood bright against the deep swarthy bags beneath. “Is this because of Armin?”

The mere mention of him sent your heart stilling and your throat tightening. Your brain burst with the memories and pain you’ve associated with that name. You tore your eyes from Jean knowing if he had even another second to stare he’d be able to read you like a book. “Hey, rubbing alcohol is for outside wounds but drinking alcohol is for inside wounds.”

Jean clasped your shoulder, “How profound.” He squeezed, “Seriously though, do you want to talk yet? It’s been two weeks. My door is literally right there, don’t think I can’t hear you watching 13 Going On 30 every night while leaving him voicemails. I heard you two nights ago reading off RRIF accounts you wanted to get with him. You can’t just leave your ex a message about retirement banking.”

You rolled your eyes, a sharp pain stabbing you in the heart. You knew you were not handling this well by any means but this breakup had destroyed you. In your mind, Armin had ripped your heart out of your chest and sold it to the black market. Instead of fully processing and talking about how you’re feeling, you reached under the counter pulling out another bottle of Baileys.

Jean snatched the new bottle from your hand, “How much hooch do you have?!”

“Prohibition happened once, it can happen again.”

Connie walked over with the pot and dropped it in the sink with a loud clang. He moved to where you stood and lifted your mug bringing it up to his nose. The pungent stench basically removed the hairs from his nostrils, yet he decided to give it a small sip. He took a gulp and immediately choked, spewing the liquor. “Oh god-” He coughed, “Oh god, how are you still standing?!” He dry heaved, “Seriously I think I’m drunk.”

“I’m a mess I get it, I get it.” You turned from Jean entirely and snatched your mug from Connie’s grubby little hands. You opened your mouth to argue with the boys but the shrill sound of the loft’s buzzer cut through the air.

“Oh, shit-” Jean’s amber eyes froze in fear as he ran back to the dining table where his phone lays. “What time is it?”

Connie checked his smartwatch, “10:12, why?”

“Shit,” Jean slipped his phone in his pocket and ran back to the kitchen. He pried the mug from your hand and threw it into the sink with a crash. “I have a guy coming for that Craigslist ad I posted for Marco’s old room.” Jean hastily grabbed every bottle off the counter and juggled them all in his arms. He threw them all in the trash and ignored your whines. “I totally forgot and now we have to interview this dude.”

“This is why we have the group chat,” You threw your hands in annoyance watching Jean speed tidy. “You tell us what’s happening in the group chat so we don’t miss things like these. Who is this guy anyway?”

Jean unlocked his phone and threw it at you. You stumbled with the catch, your reflexes debilitated heavily from your lethal coffee. You clutched the phone close to your chest before sneaking a peek. It’s an email application but before you had a second to read it, Connie was yanking the phone out of your hold.

Connie squinted at the application, “Eren- J- Jay-gear?” He shook his head bringing the phone closer to his face. “Jaguar? Eren Jaguar?” His eyes squinted so much you were fully convinced he couldn’t even see the phone anymore. “Is this like jalapeño and you have to do something fancy with the J? Is this French?”

You snatched the phone back out of his hands and read the application yourself. “It’s Jaeger, like Jagermister. Jaeger bombs.”

“I’m convinced that I’ve just memorized a lot of words and don’t actually know how to read.”

You tossed Jean his phone as another buzz echoed through the massive loft. You looked between Connie and Jean with a deep crease between your brows. “Guys I’m fully convinced this guy is using a fake name and he’s here to murder us. The facts are astronomical.” You whisper shout hoping the next Ted Bundy who stood outside your building couldn’t hear you.

Jean tossed his arms in the air, “Okay drunko, go to the bathroom and freshen up. You smell like the bottom of a bartender’s shoe. Sober up. Seriously, take a shower. Connie, Just go sit on the couch and don’t talk. Let me ask all the questions.”

Finding his girlfriend in bed with a woman was what it took for Eren Jaeger to pack a bag and move across the country. Did he have a plan? Absolutely not. In fact, he called his sister as he boarded his flight to LA begging her to sleep on her couch. After six minutes of endless pleas and two very upset flight attendants telling him to end his call or get thrown off the plane, Eren began the next chapter of his life. He arrived at LAX with his duffle bag in hand and a buzz from $12 tiny bottles of Spiced Rum that numbed the memories of a woman eating out his girlfriend.

He promised Mikasa he’d be out of her hair in a week. A week passed and his promise turned into two weeks. Soon enough, Eren found himself with chronic back pains from sleeping on Mikasa’s tiny couch that was clearly made for aesthetics and not functionality nor comfort. A month was about as long as Mikasa could stand of her brother crashing with her. She loves him as much as a sister could, but she’s way past the point in her life where she wants to live with her little brother. She decided to take it upon herself to browse through Craigslist one day and apply to any places that seemed within his budget. After the fifth tiny studio she’d applied to under his name, she came across an ad titled ‘The Loft of Brotherhood’ and internally died a bit. The location and price were perfect for Eren and maybe, just maybe, this seeming frat house could give her baby brother a social life that wouldn’t rely on her and all of her free time. Perfect.

Two days later she got an email from [email protected] subject line ‘The Loft of Brotherhood Application’ and finally felt a glimmer of hope.

So in conclusion, after an awful breakup, numerous hangovers, and one very aggravated sister- Eren sat in a beat-up leather chair with two grown men eyeing him up and down. The taller of the men, Jean, stared right into Eren’s soul. He swore the man read every secret with that scrutinizing gaze. The other, Connie, appeared as if he didn’t even know Eren was there. He was either uninterested or legit braindead with not a single thought behind his eyes. Mikasa told him there were three roommates, but she also told him that the ad seemed pretty weird. He’s genuinely concerned the third was hiding in the curtains behind him ready to axe him at any second. The small rational side of him hears running water from further into the loft and assumed the other guy must just be in the shower. His irrational side kept one ear listening for the rustling of the curtain still unsure from the whole situation.

“So, are you French?”

Eren’s ripped from his thoughts to find that buzzcut finally acknowledged him. “What?” French?

Connie found Eren’s eyes too bright to look at, so opted for staring at his man bun. “Your last name, is it French?”

Eren used all his willpower to make sure his face didn’t reflect a single thought his mind was making. “Oh, it’s German. My mom’s-”

“It’s not French? I would have preferred if it was French.” Connie flopped on the couch with unmistakable disappointment. He officially tuned out of the conversation his mind thinking about how nice life would’ve been with a French roommate who makes croissants every morning. What a waste.

Eren mentally attempts to convince himself not to walk out right now knowing that if he goes back to Mikasa without an apartment secured then he’ll be scattered in tiny pieces across all of Hollywood. He chose to ignore Connie’s entire being and look over Jean. He’s pretty sure Jean hadn’t blinked once since entering the loft. He forced a smile onto his face, “So, how long have you guys lived here for?”

“I’ll be asking the questions here, Jaeger” Jean sat adding an edge to his voice. “You have any pets?”

“No-” Eren got cut off yet again although this time it wasn’t from any of the men on the couch but from a loud bang down the hall followed by a slew of colourful curses. Eren pursed his lips and pointed at the hall with his thumb. “What was that?”

“Jaeger, I said I’m asking the questions.” Jean shook his head, “What do you do for a living?”

Shuffling still echoed from down the hall making Eren have a hard time focusing. “Oh, um, I’m a bartender right now. This loft is actually right down the street from where I was just hired. My sister thought-”

“Oh!” With that one single word, Jean became a new man. His entire aura shifted into something more personable, happier - Euphoric. Sister. The icy glare he once sent over swapped to a toothy smile that emits warmth. “Sister?”

Eren who was completely oblivious to the scheme Jean was already plotting to bone his sister, assumed the man was just trying to get to know him as a future roommate. “Yeah!” Eren perked up in his seat, “Her name’s Mikasa.”

“Ah, a beautiful name for what I assume to be a beautiful woman.”

Connie gagged as he sat up and turned his entire body to Jean. He pointed past Jean with a fire in his eyes. “Jar.” He waved his arm for emphases.”In the jar right now.”

Eren watched more confused than ever as Jean slipped a dollar bill out of his pants and stuffed it into a jar with a bright sticky note that read ‘Douchebag Jar’. Jean turned back to Eren as if nothing had ever happened, “So Eren, what’s your sister do?”

Eren shrugged knowing he’ll never get an explanation for whatever he just witnessed. “She’s a model.”

Jean sat impossibly straighter he nearly fell off the couch. “How soon can you move in?”

Connie looked over at Jean with his face scrunched in utter bewilderment. He glanced back and forth between his idiot of a roommate and the German stranger who sat in his favourite chair. Jean is such a simp. He sank back into the couch knowing that without you here there was no stopping Jean. Connie simply went back to dreaming of what his life would’ve been like waking up to fresh croissants.

“Um, I guess tomorrow?” Eren raised one of his thick brows still not fully comprehending what was happening.

Jean beamed larger at the news. He stuck out a hand towards his new roommate, “Well, Jaeger, welcome to the loft.” Eren grabbed Jean’s hand giving it a firm shake the whole experience felt surreal and also like a potential mistake in the making. “Oh, feel free to bring your sister to help out tomorrow.”

Connie whipped his head towards the exchange and slapped Jean’s leg. “Jar. Right now.”

Jean let go of Eren’s tanned hand to shove another bill in the already overflowing jar. He looked back to Eren with a big smile, “Trust me, you’ll love it here.”

“Okay kids,” You grabbed your jacket draped across the back of the couch. Connie and Jean were both watching the Lakers game and were too focused to care about whatever you were saying. “I’m heading to work now.“ You stood behind them with a hand on your hip. Nothing, not a single response. You shook your head and headed towards the door, your heels you're forced to wear at work clanked against the wooden flooring. Just before you opened the door you spun back towards the manchildren. “Oh hey, guys. How’d it go with that dude?” You had meant to ask them earlier but you decided to take a little nap (six hours to be exact) before the training shift you got called in for last minute.

“When LeBron is on the screen don’t you dare speak!” Connie turned to you throwing the stick from his corndog. He wasted not a second more on you before he turned back to the television.

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, doesn’t matter to me. Just send the info in the groupchat!” You grabbed your keys off the hook and began your way to work. The walk to work is basically as long as an Elevator ride.

You worked at a trendy cocktail bar just down the block named Cenote. You’ve worked there for just under two years. The hours were great while you were in classes, 5 pm-12 am, but the tips were even better. Management, AKA Tess, honestly cared more about how attractive the staff looked than drink quality or work ethic. Her brilliant hiring decisions made training shifts your personal hell. Tess always stuck you with the new hires to show them the ropes, most of them aspiring actors and models who couldn’t remember how to make a whiskey sour for the life of them, let alone hundreds of other cocktails. To say you were already resenting your shift was an understatement. The last new guy you trained untapped a keg and somehow flooded the keg room with fuzzy peach beer, the room still had the lingering smell of fermented peaches.

Before you knew it, you were walking down the iron steps to the lavish lounge. You tugged down the hem of your mini dress, another thing Tess made the women wear. Before you had even walked down all the steps, you hear the shrill voice of your Tess call out to you from behind the bar. You glanced over to her, your lips sat in a firm line, the bare minimum of a smile. Beside your manager stood an incredibly gorgeous man who you could only assume is who you’re stuck with all night. His hair was up in a loose bun, it somehow looks both put together and careless but the combination together just made him incredibly sexy. He wore a tight black button-up that was definitely a size too small, every breath he took made his chest constrict against the tight fabric. He filled it out incredibly well and you knew Tess very much had something to do with the sizing. You nearly had to stop walking when you focused on his face. Fallen strands of his dark hair framed his piercing emerald eyes, the two irises locking in on you making your breath hitch.

In the poetic words of one Connie Springer- That face is nut-worthy.

From that moment on, no matter how inadequate or shit he may be at his job, he’s who you want to be your rebound. What’s the saying? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? Well, it’s even better if that someone was sculpted by angels and gods upon his conception.

You will fuck this man.

Eren stood behind the dimly lit bar, red lights creating an alluring atmosphere. His new manager Tess was rambling on about expectations and etiquette they require from all the bartenders, his mind was far from focusing on a single word the shorter woman spewed out. He instead was far too busy watching a woman walk down the entrance of the lounge. Her black heels accentuated her legs almost as if creating a map for Eren’s gaze to follow. Her mini dress was short, so short that she had to hold it down with every step. It was tight enough Eren got a taste of how gorgeous her figure was. The black silky fabric hugged her curves a little too well. Her pretty lips were pulled into a thin line, her face blank yet sultry. It’s not until his boss called her does Eren actually realize that this woman is the coworker they were waiting on. Not just his coworker, but his trainer. This will be a long shift. He felt as if he was a predator that hadn’t been fed in a year and that woman was his prey, the only thing that could cure his primal hunger.

It’s not even a want he had for her, it was a need. He’d take her right behind this bar right now if he could. After all, what better way to get over your ex than to fuck the brains out of your new coworker?

No matter what came in the way, he’d fuck this woman.

Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback?

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