#jean kirschstein x reader smau

[firefly--bright]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧!

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern smau.

⁀➷ episode two ; the news !

➷ episode soundtrack.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

jean swiped his hands on the fabric of his jeans, wiping off the sweat that was on them. it happened everytime he got even slightly nervous, but in truth, there really was no need for him to be this nervous. maybe he was just nervous for his now new room mate. living with strangers - jean Connie and marco, at that - would certainly not be easy. maybe he was just thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

he clears his throat, raking a hand through his hair as he presses the call button next to your contact. it rings two times before you pick up.

jean makes out the background noise behind you. it sounds busy, wherever you are, and your little "hey," is barely heard. you repeat it again, a little louder as the voices in the back get quieter.

"hey. this is jean," he says. He’s pacing around in the kitchen, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping his phone.

there's a small breath of laugh on the other end. "i know, I have your number saved."

"right, right." he says, cursing himself inwardly.

there's a slight pause as neither of you say anything, and he tries to figure out why his heart is beating so fast, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck instead of laying still in his pocket - another nervous habit. it's either a scratch on the bridge of his nose or rubbing the back of his neck.

"uhm, you wanted to talk to me about something?" you ask from the other end, bringing him back to reality. he breathes in just enough to calm down.

"right, so... i wanted to tell you that. that, well, you're in. you're gonna be our new room mate." he says, face scrunching up in regret. he was going to chew marco out for telling jean to call you instead of texting. who says it like that? why'd he have to say 'youre in' as if it was a college acceptance lette-

"yay, I'm in!" you exclaim from the other line, and jeans shoulders relax after hearing it. he was being worried for no reason, really, judging by how excited you are. you continue, "thank you so much!"

he clears his throat. "yeah, no problem. i mean, you don't have to thank me. it was..a group decision, anyway, when can you move in?"

there's another pause as you him thoughtfully. "the latest I can do is probably next week. I'll have to find cheap movers and stuff, so-"

"we can help you." jean says almost instantly.

fuck. wait. was that too forward. maybe you wouldn't want three random people touching your stuff? they're going to be your room mates anyway, but maybe that was too fa-

"yeah, actually, that'd be great! if you guys don't mind, of course." you say, silencing Jean's downward spiral once more.

"great." he says. there's another pause. jean wonders what you're thinking about. he hears someone call your name in the background and then a muffled, "just a sec," comes from your voice.

"hey, yeah, sorry for that."

"no problem. are you busy right now? we can text out the details if that's easier," he suggests, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter, his free hand resting beside him.

"that would be better, yep. I'm really sorry I'm..kinda in the middle of my shift, but I'll get back to you as soon as I get home." you say. jean picks up on the breath you let out after the sentence.

"no problem, really. it was nice talking to you. bye."

"bye! thanks, again." you say, the call cutting with a small beep.

jean sighs in relief. his heart beat had gone back to normal, thankfully, and he tried not to think about why he was so nervous in the first place. all that mattered was that you seemed excited and that you'd text him the details of your move-in day.

➷ Saturday, 7:19 p.m.

"so we help her? no rewards?" Connie asks on the Saturday before they were to help you move, and jean curses when he drops his phone flat on his face. Connie snickers.

"why do you want rewards, con?" marco asks, taking a sip of his -  fourth? seventh? honestly, he had lost count - cup of coffee for the day, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Connie shrugs. "i just wanna know what the end game is here," jean groans in response, shifting from his comfortable spot on the couch to accommodate for marco.

"end game is having someone pay the rent." jean mumbles, stretching his neck.

marco sighs. "how long have you been working on that project for?" he asks, taking his now fogged up glasses off of his face. jean admired his friend's lack of temperature sensitivity as he watched him take another sip of boiling hot coffee without even flinching. jean blinks, noting how his eyes burn when he does so.

"five hours, I think." Connie says, counting on his fingers.

"without a break?" marco asks. his brows are furrowed. jean wants to scoff and point out that he's in the same boat as him, more or less, but he's too tired to start a fight, opting to shake his head instead.

“you need to fix your schedule, jean.” He says, but jean only nods. Marco’s sure he’s not even listening at this point, knowing jean’s ears stopped working as he reads the email open infront of him.

Connie throws the wrapper of the granola bar he ate in a surpringly short amount of time, still chewing on the remnants of his snack as he talked, something that marco reprimanded him for. Jean barely heard a word.

Replying to the email, he stared at the almost blinding screen infront of him as his hands hover the keyboard, feeling them cramping up a bit, distracted with thoughts for tomorrow. He had never been good with new people – opening up to some random stranger never felt appealing to him. Somedays, he felt like all of his friends were made reluctantly, even if he was incredibly glad to have them, he had never wanted it in the first place, how all of them had somehow wiggled their way into his heart and decided to stay there. It was scary, terrifying, really, how he’d be inviting nothing less than a stranger into his house the next day after not knowing anything about you. seeing you across campus multiple times wasn’t enough, even though it was comforting.

He knew you had looked familiar when he had opened the door to you. he knew your smile seemed similar to the stranger he kept noticing – on the bus, in the graphic studio, across campus, walking to class with a cup of coffee in your hand. he was no better than connie in the sense that he instantly thought you were pretty, with your pretty eyes (even though he’d never seen them upclose before the last time he saw you; he thought they were pretty then too), and your voice that he had heard only once before, when you were talking into the phone softly in the graphics studio as he worked on his project, keeping your volume low until it became almost a hum. But just the descriptors of you weren’t enough. Sure, they were enough to know that you weren’t a criminal on the loose or someone that would murder and eat jean and his friends (he didn’t know exactly why the thought crossed his mind, but he did indulge in it a little, thinking about how this new room mate would choose to kill the three of them. He’d settled on connie injesting poison because he’s too trusting with strangers holding his drinks, marco being suspicious but ultimately being stabbed in the back, and jean dying by choking with signs of struggle. Maybe he’s watched too much news, too many crime documentaries, he thinks before sleeping that night.) regardless, jean sums up that he’s too cautious about the whole ordeal.

Unlike his friends, it takes a while to get to know him. Being his friend requires patience, a hell of a lot of it, which is also probably why he hasn’t been in a serious relationship for longer than six months to a year. Marco is gentle – even while in middle school, when the two first met, he was nice to jean, a stark contrast from his other friends that were too keen on making him feel the worst about himself. Connie is a born comedian, even if he has his issues with intimacy, he has the ability to draw people in enough to stay. Sasha is charismatic and kind, something jean admires about her. Connie and sasha were inseperable in high school, which made jean a little suspicious to get to know them, because how could anyone be friends for so long and still stand eachother? How could neither of them see the worst in eachother or get bored? Maybe that was just his trauma talking, but his suspicions dissapiated when he was paired up with them for a group project. They turned out to be really good friends even after the class ended, and when marco moved back in in sophomore year, the four became really close; going to parties, having fun, having long talks about how scared they were for their future and the majors they were choosing.

these three idiots were really the only ones that jean had connected with in his life, and he still wonders why they stuck around for so long.

In his mind, his hesitancy is valid. He doesn’t know what kind of person you are and who you’d be. In his mind youre the worst person in the world because assuming the worst in people was always easier than expecting them to be the best and then getting disappointed because of it. Sure, you were pretty. Beautiful, really, with the sun setting behind you through the windows, lighting up the side of your face in the bus as jean listened to music after a long day, but he didn’t know you. if anything, it made it harder for him to actually talk to you. a bad habit, he realised long ago, that everytime he found anyone attractive, he’d choke up and have no idea what to say, his compliments coming out in broken sentences. Again, being with him was a game that required a lot of patience.

So when Sunday rolled around, he didn’t try to spend too much time in interacting with you.

➷ Sunday, 12:03 p.m.

“everything’s packed. mostly.” You say, pacing around the room, making a mental note of all the boxes you had.

“god, you have so many trinkets. Why do you need this rock?” noor asks, exasperated, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and a marker in her hand. you had asked her to come over last night, panicked, after not starting on packing everything up the whole week. In you defence, it wasn’t really your fault. You’d been too busy with your shifts at work and your assignments to even remember that you were moving.

“do you remember that day we went by the lake because we were sad that highschool was ending? And then we tried to throw rocks in the bouncy-bouncy way but we failed?” you asked, still pacing around and picking up a notebook off of your very naked and very vulnerable looking bed, “well, that’s one of the rocks from near the lake. I wanted to remember the day, so.” You said, checking off the items that you had packed.

Noor hummed. “I remember that. We made taylor swift folklore references.”

Noor laughed as well, tugging her legs infront of her chest. “now look at us. You got home at what? Twelve at night day before?” she asked, resting her chin on her knees. You took a seat on your mattress, leaning your weight on the palms of your hands behind you.

You breathed out a laugh. “and then went to get ice cream. Dude my mom was so mad I stayed out for so long,”

Noor had always been pretty, you thought. There was a certain point in highschool when you had started getting closer to her, where you had the briefest crush on her. With long eyelashes, pretty dark brown eyes that always shone whenever she talked about something she was excited about, it really wasn’t hard to love her. The apples of her cheek were prominent when she smiles as she’s doing right now, the mole near the inner corner of her right eye almost disappearing while the mile on the left side of the crease of her chin made itself more prominent. Even if her hair was tied up into a bun, some of her dark waves that escaped from it falling onto her shoulders and her bangs – though currently a little untidy - framing her face, she looked pretty. She always did.

You tilted your chin up, closing your eyes. “im so glad im moving closer to college. No more one and a half hour transport, thank god.”

“travelling with you was always nice.” She said as you looked back at her. “back when we used to do it in highschool. The times you were absent I would have to stop myself from crying when I got on the bus alone,”

You laughed again. “im sorry about my weak body. I had so many fevers,”

“you should be. I was so scared because I’d have to go to school alone, without you. do you know how much trauma that gave me?”

“I’ll pay for your therapy-“

“I need more than that. You need to fund my red bull addiction.”

“you need rehab for that, I will not be helping your unhealthy coping mechanisms.” You say, hearing her laugh in the way that brought you comfort. You were glad you had her. You were glad that despite the apartment you were currently in never felt like home, she did. Everytime she came over with takeout that had gotten cold because of the journey, she made the place feel more like your own as you forced her to watch bad shows and scary movies with you, making her laugh even if the scene was terrifying for her to watch.

You glanced at the screen on your phone, reading the time out loud.

“when are they getting here?” she asked, taking a sip of the aforementioned red bull that she had kept beside her on the ground.

You sighed, stretching. “twelve ten.”

“they’re late.” She says. “what if they’re, like, not the best people?”

“im sure they’re not the worst. Besides, I’ll remind myself that what I had before that was an hour and a half of commute and the tiniest bathroom known to man.”

“and you’ll have me,” she says, shrugging.

“and I’ll have you.” you parrot, opening your mouth to say something else but being cut off by three loud knocks.

Noor give you a knowing look, the both of you getting up from your seats as she adjust her hair. Taking a deep breath in, you open the door with a smile.

“hey guys!” you say, being greeted by marco’s smiling freckled face, his hair swooping over his forehead just like the day he showed you around the apartment.

“hi,” he speaks, his voice getting drowned out by connies loud one.

“hey roomie! We almost got lost while coming here. place is like a maze.” He says, slinging his arm over marcos shoulder. You breath out a laugh, “right? Crazy ass town planners,” you say, opening the door wider to let them in. as usual, jean doesn’t talk much, nodding at your as greeting as you wave back.

Pretty stranger. In your house. Or, your ex- house. And he looked good today, too, a brown hoodie with light blue loose fitting jeans, his hair covered by a hat so that you could only see the tips of them through it. His keys hung off of one of his belt loops, his fingers accessorized with silver rings. He smelled nice, too, you noted.

“woah,” you heard connie say. Looking back at him, you saw him looking at noor with a small smile on his face. Noor, on the other hand, had the expression she always wore when men approached her.

Mild disgust.

You cleared your throat, “right, guys, this is noor. My best friend since highschool. That’s jean, marco and connie.”

“so youre the baldy,” she said, tilting her head towards connie, and in usual settings, this would be a slightly passive comment. But to connie, somehow, it translated as a challenge as he smirked, crossing his arms infront of his chest, trying to make himself bigger. Jean groaned from behind you, and marco, again, looked at you apologetically.

“the hair was a choice. People went too insane seeing how good I looked with longer hair so,” he waves a hand over his buzzed hair, “I shaved it all off as mercy.”

You grimace. Noor’s expression gets stronger as she sighs in annoyance. “yeah, I’d also go insane trying not to kill you.”

“do you guys… know eachother?” marco asks. you pick up the notebook from your bed again, rechecking the list of things you had. Jean leans on the wall next to you.

“she was my-“ “we were just in a group project together, don’t get it over your bald head.”

Jean snorted beside you as you gasped at the recollection. “oh my god youre the guy that gatekept all the information for the presentation!” marco joined in with jeans growing amusement, as connie’s face turned red in embarrassment.

His hands flew up in the air in defense. “hey, I was a freshman, I was…growing-“

“growing from being a complete piece of trash?” noor said.

“yes. No, I mean, like, I was trying to not be-“ “blah blah blah, you made us almost fail.” She said. “if only you could stop flirting with everyone in the group and actually do your work.” “it’s called charisma,” “charisma my ass.” She mumbled in response. You cleared your throat.

“alright, lets get to work before someone gets murdered in this place. Im sure it wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened here.” you say, picking up a relatively smaller box of all of your academic supplies.

Jean followed you, grabbing the box from your hand. marco agrees with you and heads to another, whereas connie sticks around noor, much to her dismay.

Marco speaks up as you keep the door open with your foot, standing near the doorway with a box of some of your clothes. “has…someone actually been murdered here?”

You shrugged. “a lot has happened here, apparently. Someone almost died because a pipe fell on their head. One day I came home late at night to police sirens-“

“oh yeah, what happened with that?” noor asks, finally being able to separate herself from connie who you glanced at. He seemed to be playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe with which box to pick up. “the left one is the lightest,” you tell him, and he shoots you a wide smile and two thumbs up.

Going back to the topic at hand, you catch noor – and marco – up on the…subtle crime that had occurred in the building. The infrastructure was extremely poor, making you confused between the creaking of pipes and the sounds of unwanted footsteps in the corridors late at night. It was kind of scary, living in such a cramped space with nowhere to hide while also not knowing if the noises you heard were simply because you were paranoid or because they were creaks of the weak building. But you didn’t mention any of that, focusing instead on the girl that moved out. You remembered her being really nice, even though you didn’t know her name, just her bright blue doe eyes and blonde hair. She always smiled at you when you saw her on the stairs or in the dingy elevator. She had an encounter with an almost criminal which made her call the cops, but apparently the guy was just her dad that she didn’t recognize. She had told you briefly in the lift that the two had a complicated relationship, so she was just surprised and scared after you asked her how she was doing. She soon mentioned she was moving out and living with her girlfriend and her roommate instead.

Marco let out a whistle when you reached the car, jean standing near the trunk and making space in it to accommodate for your stuff. “sounds very scary.”

“I survived,” you said, placing a box in the space jean had made, muttering a small thanks to him with a smile, earning a nod with a thin lipped smile – if you could even call it that.

“that’s insane lore from your friend,” connie says, haphazardly stuffing a box into the trunk, to which noor groans and rolls her eyes before having to readjust it herself. “yeah. I hope she’s doing well with her girlfriend.” You say.

“you kno-“ marco starts, but it’s cut off by his phone ringing with the tune of that really annoying sound on every social media platform, the one that repeatedly had the phrase ‘oh no, oh no’ with an incredibly annoying beat, making marco groan out connies name before picking it up.

“hey sash,” he spoke into the mic, talking to who you presumed to be the same sasha from your work.

“so, who’s coming in the car with you?” you ask jean while connie and noor continue their vehement words and insults thrown onto eachother, even though it was mostly connie trying to impress noor and the latter not having any of it.

Jean looks at you, squinting against the strong sunlight. His eyes are really pretty, you note, and he sighs before speaking. “well, we haven’t decided that yet. There probably wont be that much space in the car, considering all of… that.” He says, glancing at half your boxes that had already filled up the trunk. You nod, “right.”

This is the first time you’ve heard him speak for so long. You breathed in an awkward breath. Carrying a conversation with an uninterested person wasn’t new to you, and in normal circumstances, you’d have given up and opened your phone as distraction, but you were supposed to live with this guy. You couldn’t just live with someone you’d have to give awkward tight lipped smiles to everyday. no, you were more resilient than a couple dry sentences. Maybe he was just shy.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but were cut of by marco calling out your name, his hand outstretched with his phone in his palm. The screen flashed what you assumed to be sasha’s name, though it was named as ‘ice cream inhaler DO NOT CALL WHEN SHE…” the other part cut off because of it’s length.

“sasha wants to speak to you,” he said with an apologetic smile which you were sure was his resting face, as you smiled and took the phone from his hand.

“hey, sasha-“ you tried, but she had already cut you off with a sentence of her own. You hadn’t spoken to sasha other than for the few friendly exchanges you’d had with her when she was assigned a rare shift with you. she’d compliment you, you’d have to hold her back from eating all the send-backs. It was 50/50.

“hi! We’re going to be step-roommates!” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice, forcing you to smile as well. “we are,” you reply.

“since obviously these idiots are going to tell you the best places to get takeout from, here’s the- oh, hold on. I’m getting called for an order. Give me, like, two seconds.” She says, the line going silent. You pulled the phone off of your ear, confused. Jean sighed from beside you, rolling his eyes and closing the trunk with a loud thud.

“she always does this-“ he steps next to you, holding his hand out for the phone. You hand it to him without question. “calls us when she’s in the middle of something and leaves the phone open. its dangerous-“ he says, taking the phone and placing it near his mouth, now loudly talking into the microphone. “Gordon Ramsey is the greatest chef in the universe,” he says loud enough for you to flinch with a smile as he mimicked your expression of slight amusement, smirking. This was the first time you were engaging in a longer conversation with him. Granted, he wasn’t actually speaking to you.

“she hates Gordon Ramsey. Doesn’t like how he always shouts instead of enjoying his amazing job. Her words, not mine.” He speaks, shifting the mic away from his mouth. Going back to the mic, he continues, “do you remember that fanfiction you made us read of him giving bi-“

“hi! Im back, new roomie-in-law!” she says before jean finishes his sentence. He clears his throat loud enough for sasha to hear. You can practically hear her roll her eyes, “and you, horseface.”

“hey!”

“I need a follow-up on the Gordon ramsay story. And the horseface name.” you say, taking the phone from jean’s hand and holding it like a mic.

“oh, you have a lot to catch up on if you’re gonna live with them, but don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Its going to take about three business days and three large pizzas, though.”

“deal,” you tell her with a smile, and jean scoffs as he walks away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have to go now, though, but have fun until I get there! And try not to lose your mind too much, jean and connie can do that to people.”

“I’ll try my best, sash.”

“I believe in you! bye!”

“buh-bye.”  

➷ Sunday, 1:24 p.m.

The group is divided into an imperfect two-to-three, with you, noor and marco opting for the bus and jean and connie travelling by jean’s car, which you assume is like travelling with a married couple that dislikes eachother.

Marco agrees. Theres barely any seats left on the bus despite the fact that it’s a Sunday morning with not a lot of work rush, and you have to cling onto the poles for support. Noor leans her shoulder on the same pole your hand grips, and marco’s head is supported by his arm which was raised and rested by the handles.

“they’ve always been like that,” he says with an adoring smile playing on his lips. Its only now that you notice how pretty marco is, and his eyes are soft as he talks about his friends. “you haven’t been in the same room as jean, connie and sasha. That’s the true test.”

You laugh. “how bad is it?”

He inhales, thinking, “one time, connie climbed on top of the fridge and jean was trying to get him out with a broom. Sasha was on the kitchen counter with her arms up, trying to get him down.” He says. “to this day, none of them know why he got up there in the first place but he just…did, and they weren't even drunk. fully sober.” he says with a smile and a shrug, shaking his head in disbelief. “so, that’s how bad it is,”

You smiled. Noor rolled her eyes, murmuring, "of course connie did that.”

“oh, yeah, you guys know each other, right?” marco asks, turning his head towards her a little, his smile unwavering. Now that you thought about it, it was hard to make his smile waver. The only time you had seen anything but a small smile on his face was when youo were describing you now past living situation to him. Noor groaned from beside you.

“overstatement. i was…acquainted with him, if anything. Only because I was forced to. The entire time, all he tried to do was flex his non-existent abs at me and make me laugh. I just…hate his guts.” She says, shaking her head and pursing her lips as if just the mention of connie’s name was making her mood turn sour. Maybe it was.

“I didn’t know that this connie was the same guy you told me about,” you said. She shook her head again. “nah, its okay. You couldn’t have known, anyway.”

Marco hums, “connie can be a bit… desperate. He sees someone pretty and immediately makes himself… dispensable?”

There was a slight pause before you spoke, tilting your head at his sentence. “did you just call him a slut?”

“that’s the most eloquent way of calling someone a fuckboy.” She says, still laughing.

Marco chuckles as noor bursts into her bright laughter. You count this as permission for your own laugh to bubble up.

The bus came to a stop with you and noor catching marco up to speed on your collective history and highschool lives, marco adding his own stories and laughter. you got off the bus kind of dreading the end of the ride, even though you were going to live with him, you hoped you’d get to talk to him a lot more. Marco seemed warm and inviting, and he had told the both of you – who were technically strangers to him – about how he’d grown up with four younger siblings and how he’d had to take care of them a lot, how jean kind of helped him with his familial life, how marco felt less like he had a role to play when he was with jean, connie and sasha. His open confession of admiration warmed you from the inside, and you hoped, selfishly and maybe a little too soon, that you’d fit into their house. It wasn’t just an apartment they’d shared as friends, but a place for them to be comfortable in. you felt like you were intruding.

And you felt it even more so as noor got a call from her classmate. You’d only overheard a bit of the call on the sidewalk as the three of you walked to the building, marco telling you about the time jean used to try to flirt with people and miserably failing, and somewhere in the middle of you trying to control your laughter and marco now fully making fun of his best friend, noor had stopped walking.

you looked behind you. her brows were scrunched up in confusion, a noticeable scowl growing on her face.

“no, wasn’t that…..yeah, I thought it was on Friday. He cant just change it like that! God, okay. I’ll come over, im not that far. Yep. Oh, and the presentation, too. We can give that work to lucy. Mhm, yeah. Yep, see you.” she said, hanging up and looking at you apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, guys, I have to leave. Apparently the professor who had assigned a project to us pushed the deadline to Tuesday instead of Friday.” She said.

“woah, what? They can do that?” marco asks. she nods, sighing frustratingly. “the guy teaching us is very old. He does this all the time, im pretty sure he’s a corpse already.” You laugh a little.

She says your name softly, “Im so sorry I cant-“

“it’s okay, noor. Ive got it covered. You’ve helped a lot as is.” You said, stepping forward and engulfing her in your arms. she fit there perfectly, squeezing your shoulders before letting go.

You smiled at her, “best of luck. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

She nods, “you call me too, after you’re settled.” Turning to marco, she continues, “it was so good meeting you! we have to meet again. I mean, I guess we will,”

Marco smiles, his eyes squinting. “of course, im glad I go to meet you as well. Best of luck on the assignment.”

Noor leaves, walking with double the speed. You watched her leave, her hair flowing slightly with the wind.

you sighed with a smile, turning back to marco, “so, where were we?”

Marco’s conversation capabilities served as a distraction from your own almost all-consuming thoughts. He continued telling you, in vivid detail, how jean had asked him to help with his promposal. He had gotten down on one knee for a girl he didn’t even know infront of almost the whole school, not heeding marco’s advice of getting to know her first before doing something large and irrational. Apparently, somehow, it had worked and despite facing some amount of embarrassment even years later, atleast he got the girl to go out with him for prom.

“Strangely uplifting and wholesome,” you said, stopping infront of the door as marco fished for his keys in his pockets.

“that’s jean for you,” he slipped the key into the slot, turning to you before opening the door. “oh, and just so you don’t step on a minefield – never call jean horseface. He’ll loose his mind.” He said. Before you could ask why, he had opened the door and you were bombarded with bickering once again.

“I told you, I don’t know-“ jean voice said. You presumed it was coming from the kitchen. Connie cut him off with a smirk you knew was present on his face without even having to see it, “oh, really? And you just hid this information from us, conveniently-“

Marco cleared his throat loudly. You shed your coat and hung it up on the rack, smiling at the two of them, waving.

Connie smiled widely, waving at you with his fingers. Jean gave you a tight lipped smile.

“uhm-  your boxes are kept in your room,” jean said, a cup of coffee in his hand. you could read the big, bold black letters from where you were standing – “HOTTEST MILF IN TOWN”. You nodded with a smile, opening your mouth to say something before he cut you off again. Only then did you notice a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“if you need any help and stuff, I c- we can help, or whatever.” He said, shrugging before taking a sip of his coffee. Connie looked like he was going to burst out laughing, and you couldn’t tell why. It wasn’t unusual for you to feel out of place with people, but you were just made aware of the fact as you scanned them briefly.

“thank you. really, thank you guys for everything.” You say, looking at all of them. Marco smiled at you openly, jean refused to make eye contact with you, covering the bottom half of his face with the mug (how long was he going to take a sip?), and connie only nodded slowly, his eyes watering, his hand coming up to his mouth to hold in his laughter. your eyes went to jean’s. you pointed to his hand, “nice mug.” You said.

As soon as you turned around, though, he did not hold back. His laughter was only interrupted by small “you” and “thought” “she” and then an “oh my go-“  jean groaned and you didn’t hear him defend himself, or marco laughing along with connie, as you opened the door to your room.

Your room.

You were never good with change. You sighed, looking at all the boxes – some scattered and some stacked. You guessed the stacked ones were jean’s work. The heavier boxes were on the bottom while the lighter ones balanced on top of them. The scattered boxes had to be a job done by connie. You appreciated it nonetheless, sitting down on the one patch that wasn’t occupied, scanning the room, making notes on how you’d change it. Connie was still laughing outside, only that jean was defending himself with horrible tactics. You leaned back, stealing a glance at the scene – his hands were plugging his ears, eyes shut tight as he sang loudly and terribly “baby you light up my world like nobody else-“ marco covering his mouth with a fist, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently. You smiled.

Sure, you’d feel like an intruder. But you could try hard not to be. You refused to sink into the same cycle that you had been in in highschool, but you also refused to be alone. Taking a deep breath in, you shouted, all with a smile still present on your face.

“hey!”

The three looked at you. jean’s voice was still singing (again, terribly), and marco had to elbow him to shut him up. “I saw a pizza place down the corner. Edo you guys wanna order and try it out?”

Marco agreed instantly, and connie was immediately hopping off of his seat, opening the cabinets and taking out some mugs. Jean only looked at you. you took that as a win.

“we can drink cheap wine-“ connie said, which seemed to snap jean out of his stupor. “its not cheap, I paid a whole eight dollars for it!”

Marco cleared his throat as you made your way to the kitchen counter again, slipping onto one of the barstools. “you mean five dollars.”

“when are you going to stop treating us like common whores?” connie asks, turning around with his arms full of mugs, all with different writings on them.

Jean scoffed, “when you stop treating me like your provider.”

“provider? I hardly know he-“

“I will KILL YOU CONSTANCE.” Jean says. You laugh, marco joins, connie flinches at jeans voice, ducking under the table to shield himself.

You’d try. You’d try hard to not be an intruder.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ previous episode ; ( pilot ! ) ➷ next episode ; coffee grinds !

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⁀➷ a/n ➷ shes a big one. sorry for the wait, i can finally sit down to write stuff since i have summer break. i was struggling HARD with this one, though, the dialogues were Not Easy considering the fact that im not funny at all (as you can tell probably). some of the dialogues are taken by conversations between me and my friends and some are taken from sticoms ive watched hehe. hope yall liked it!! as always constructive criticisms are open! also requests are open, too, since i have more time to write now!

⁀➷ comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated!

line dividers by @peachesofteal

[neeneee]

“I got premium air” prank on some of the AOT boys

This may be ooc but idc, let’s just pretend this is what they’d be like if they weren’t all incredibly traumatized from a young age, k? Thx. Xoxo

[lunerenzo]

Eren is so mean 😭

poor (y/n) 💔 she was just trying to be a good hostess 😭

[flowersbloominthedark]

jean kirschtein x reader

“are we still friends?”

“can we be friends?”

In which Y/n L/n moves back to her hometown and comes face to face with the boy that broke his promise

——————————————————————

Paradis Academy || Marley Academy

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1 → Boredom

Chapter 2 → Deja Vu

Chapter 3 → Bad Blood

Chapter 4 → Self Control

Chapter 5 → Bloom Later

Chapter 6 → Cigarette Daydream

Chapter 7 → Speak Now

Chapter 8 → jealousy, jealousy

Chapter 9 → 4ever

Chapter 10 →

[zeeroweenies]

baby bump

ft. jean and eren

cw ✿ you know the routine ; mean eren ; nice jean ; creampie ; daddy kink ; anal mention ; dirty talk ; impact play ; baby trapping.

they both could knock me up and i wouldn’t give a damn.

Something was off. Eren and Jean have been acting suspicious for the past couple of weeks. Checking to see if your monthly had come around, hiding your birth control pills, they had even gone as far as to make sure you were eating certain foods and drinking tons of water because it’s “healthy for you.”

And you didn’t seem to mind this… at first. Your daddies know what’s best for you, don’t they? But it did start to get a little weird when they wanted to have sex more than usual, both men fucking you on every surface of your shared apartment and filling you with cock and cum nonstop.

Of course there was Jean who’s always treated you like a princess, giving you as many orgasms as you could handle and ensuring that you felt loved and protected. But something was different now, though the saccharine tone in his voice constantly remained unchanging it couldn’t compete with the way his cock moved inside you, ignoring your tearful cries with his lips on yours as he cums in you for the nth time. “Daddy, m’sleepy now…” you mumble lowly.

“Baby, daddy just wants to cum in you one more time. Can you let me do that?” How could you deny him when he talks to you like this? Especially when you love him sooo much?

That’s why you give him a weary nod of your head much to his approval as he laces his long fingers with yours, pressing his soft lips against your slacked mouth with your hands pinned above your head rendering you helpless and under his spell when he begins fucking into you again at a faster pace, moans and squelching growing louder as another sweet orgasm builds in you. “You make daddy so proud.”

It was like their sex drive was kicking into overtime, and you— your cunt had to pay the toll. They fucked you until your poor little pussy was sore and throbbing, leaving your body aching for days to come. Though you couldn’t say you minded, your daddies do always treat you really nice.

With the exception of Eren, who doesn’t even care about your orgasm when he hooks his fingers into the seat of your pretty panties that Jean bought you and hastily moves them to the side to shove his fat cock in your greedy cunt in one hard slam of his hips. He never preps you. “Your slutty pussy doesn’t need it anyways,” is what he tells you when you complain about the stretch hurting before dumping his load inside you.

This whole act probably continued over the span of a month before they finally revealed to you what their game was. “We want you to make us daddies, angel.”

You, a mother? This was new, but also exciting. You could only picture it, having a tiny Jean or Eren running around the house, all of you together like one big happy family. And the thought enough was heartwarming. They both wanted a baby so fucking bad, and who better to give it to them than their perfect angel? “Can you do that, you fuckin’ brat?”

It’s only a matter of time before you end up in your usual position: face down, ass up with Eren roughly pounding you from behind, his hands gripping your soft ass and spreading it as he watches cream gather onto his dick while you cried helplessly into the plush pillow. Yeah, you were cumming again.

The feeling of Eren’s cock repeatedly delving into your slick walls became too much, seeking purchase in the sheets with your nails digging into them tightly and moving further up the bed away from him. It earns you a harsh slap on your ass, the impact stinging and pulling a pained cry from your lips as Eren pulls you back onto him and stuffing his fat cock back in your cunt. “Stop fucking running, you said you wanted to make me a daddy. I want a kid.”

You did make a promise— to both of them, and now you have to follow through with it.

“S’too much for me now, I can’t cum anymore..” you whimper, tears blurring your vision.

“Who said anything about you cumming? Just worry about me filling this stupid cunt up so I can get you pregnant.” He spits, full weight shifting on top of you as he takes hold of your hips to deepen your arch.

Jean perks up from the sidelines. “What makes you think you’re getting her pregnant?”

You feel yourself being pulled up by the hair in Eren’s strong grip, fucked out face on full display as your attention is directed to Jean while he continues to fuck into you with force. “Who’s baby do you want? His, or mine?”

“I w– I want both,” you slur your words, interrupted by Eren’s gruff voice in your ear. “Well you can’t fucking have both, choose.”

“Can you take it easy on her? She’s doing her best.” Jean chimes in from where he’s seated on the bed pumping his thick shaft, trying to keep his cock hard for when he fills you next as his golden eyes pierce the brunette in a threatening manner, earning a dismissive scoff from him. “Whatever, ungrateful fucking slut.”

Soon your body begins to falter from the position you’re in, drool leaking from your mouth as Eren pulls you up in an annoyed but serious tone. “Keep your ass in the air, or I’m gonna fuck you in it.” The threat should have struck fear into you, but it only made you moan and tighten around his cock, causing a smile to slowly appear on his lips.

Eren fills you with his cum before Jean is the next to fill you, his cock being a little harder to handle since he was bigger than Eren, feeling him painfully but gently stretch you out in all the right places.

“Am I doing good?” you whine hopelessly with your brows knitted together as you stare up into Jean’s glowing irises, desperate for any stamp of approval as he folds you in half to slam his cock into your messy pussy.

Just like the good daddy he is he makes your tears go away with his loving kisses, strong biceps flexing. “You’re doing perfect angel, just a little more okay?”

You wanted this, you wanted to be a good mom. And more than anything, you wanted to be a mother to Eren and Jean’s babies. “Let daddy put a baby in your pretty pussy, wanna make you a mommy.”

“Okay, okay,” you chant like a prayer, hoping that it’ll get you through it.

The two men take turns passing you around, contorting your body into impossible position and fucking their cum into your tight cunt for what feels like hours until you can’t babble anything but daddy.

“C’mon, you want my baby don’t you? Daddy’s pretty princess wants a baby?” Eren coos into your ear, sweet words causing you to whine against his neck and clench around him reflexively. “Please daddy,”

And with that he paints your walls white, all of the previous cum the men fucked into you being replaced with another load as loud squelches and cries fill the room with Eren concealing his groans by biting into your neck. He couldn’t help it, your pussy felt too good, especially with the added slick of your cum and his as you gushed around his cock “Shit—” He mutters as he pulls out, the biggest trail of cum he’s ever seen leaking out of your abused cunt as he does, admiring how ruined and fucked out you looked with little pants escaping you.

But most importantly: the job was done. With the amount of cum both men dumped into you there was no way you weren’t getting pregnant, you’d be a mom soon enough, and they’d have the baby they’d always wanted.

“Our baby’s gonna be such a pretty mommy.” Jean coos, words barely audible as he lays a kiss on your sweat slicked forehead.

They couldn’t wait to see you all round and plump over the course of what would be nearly a year, carrying either one their kids in your perfect body and watching you grow bigger as the months progressed and your due date got closer, a cute little baby bump on your tummy.

“Mm, yeah, she is. Not gonna be able to walk for a while, though.” Eren chuckles before Jean questions,“Which one of ours you think it’s gonna be?” Eren shrugs nonchalantly as he grabs his phone off the nightstand, bright screen lighting up as he unlocks it.

“Dunno, guess we’ll see in nine months. That’s funny,” he starts, scrolling through the calendar for the future date. “Just in time for Father’s Day too.”

🏷 @sunas-cumdump @icyoni @sems-diarie @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @naoyailoveu @strawbub @random-734 @bananaandbrans @megumitodoroki @clairedaconvict

[alygatorwrites]

pranking the aot boys with “i want a baby” texts

[papijean]

AOT boys being forgetful:

I saw a few smau of the boys so I thought I’d give it a go 

[pinkchanelbag]

jean + “girls will really get an attitude ‘cause they miss you.”

connie ver. | levi ver. | eren ver. | armin ver.

[firefly--bright]

lovesick.

jean kirstein x gender neutral! reader. modern a.u.

summary : jean always felt like a fool around you. you've been a fool to not see it.

warnings : very subtle themes of religion (expected at this point)

a/n : y'all are getting FED. pure fluff to make up for peeks and blinders. i hope you like this :)

masterlist is linked in pinned post! ✿ requests are open! ✿ enter my taglist. ✿

taglist : @jeanscremebrulee , @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody .

✿ inspired by this laufey song ✿

he stayed with you for three nights.

before his flight back to his hometown for thanksgiving - an invitation for which had been extended to you as well, by Jean's mom. you had refused politely. you didn't want to come in between a special family holiday with their own traditions. jean tried to persuade you, told you that he'd be so bored without you there, that you're going to like it, but you brushed it away anyway. said you really didn't want to be a bother, flight tickets would be even more expensive with you there, Jean's mother would have to prepare extra food for you. you'd take too much space, you said.

jean said that it was a space he'd let you take. you shook your head with a smile.

before leaving, however, the two of you decided to spend three nights together. everyone had already left to see their families - sasha and Connie had taken the road, Marco left by flight as well. your apartment felt eerily empty so you asked jean one night, tipsy on cheap and old wine, to stay with you for the last three days he was there. after which you would see him - and by extension, everyone - a week after new years. you'd be stuck here, in an empty apartment, all alone, and he really shouldn't be leaving his dear best friend alone to rot, should he?

and jean had been so stupid to agree. he knew he shouldn't have after what he discovered he kept feeling about you. but you were looking at him with such conviction and warmth that he had to.

god, he was so lovesick. it made him feel stupid, really. but it was you, so he didn't really mind it. he'd learnt to shed any sort of discomfort with you.

well, he hadn't learnt it. you had just coaxed him into it without even using your voice.

he rolled his eyes and agreed.

"alright, alright, fine. I'll stay over. but I need to pack first."

you smiled brilliantly. "done!" his heart leapt out of his chest and into your warm arms that were currently trying to pour some more wine. he moved the bottle away from your hand.

"no more wine for you," he said, pushing a forgotten glass of water your way. "have some of this instead."

your smile didn't dissapear, though, and Jean hoped that his heart was still beating in your hands. you just looked at him with your cheek resting on the table and you looked so comfortable in that blue sweater of yours, with him. you lift your head up and drink the water diligently.

he was so, so stupid.

he got everything packed in two hours. made sure everything was organized and easy to remove, and left the suitcases next to your door so he could leave directly from your apartment to the airport. you smiled, again, when you welcome him in, proposing to go to the ice cream parlor.

it was winter. jean grumbled as he adjusted on your couch to glimpse at you from the corner of his eye. you were rummaging in your kitchen for something - chocolate - when you asked him if he wanted to go there with you. he rolled his eyes.

"it's winter." he reminded you. as if you could forget.

"please. you know I don't want the ice cream there. it's the ho-"

"hot chocolate, yeah, I know. that's not why I said it's winter. i dont want to walk in this cold." he complains, but he's already getting ready to move from the couch.

"you make it sound like it's a grand mission." you say, but you've gotten the hint as you, too, move to grab your coat from the rack near the door.

"well, it is, for me. my toes freeze up just like your hands do." he says, but again, he's already slipping his shoes on.

you smile teasingly. "whats the point in having such long legs if you're not going to use them?" you're slipping your phone, wallet and keys into your pockets.

he wears his coat. "self defense." he says. it's not the most normal answer. it makes you laugh as you close the door behind you with a click, locking it. jean would continue to say anything you want him to to make you laugh.

you don't ask him to say anything. he does it anyway. the walk to the ice cream parlor is short, and jean wonders if it's going to snow soon.

"i hope it snows," you say, almost reading his mind. jean isn't even surprised by it. he nods, muttering "same."

"i thought you hated cold?" you say. he should've guessed you would've said that because it's so obivous, the low hanging fruit that came back to bite him in the ass.

"snow is different from cold," he lies, "it's..." he trails off. it's idiotic. he didn't even have anything to say. you breathe out a laugh.

"it's what? better than rain?" you bump your shoulder into his.

"anything is better than rain." he answers, shaking his head, "snow is like if rain was cooler and better." he says, adding a "literally cooler." at the end.

it makes you laugh again, but softer this time. it wasn't that funny. he notes that down in his head like he's going to be quizzed on it later.

"i knew you'd say that." you speak. your warm breath gets fogged up against the cool weather.

the sentence is said in one breath, a certain softness and confession to it. of course you knew what he'd say, out of all people, you would. you'd know what he was planning to do, how the gears inside his body worked, and still let your gears work right beside his anyway. he was sure you knew every little working of his stupid heart except for the fact that it beat only for you.

your shoulders are brushing again. he licks his drying lips, trying to come up with a better joke to pass the time. not that he had to, because silence with you wasnt uncomfortable or forced. it felt like peace, like a small pocket of warmth that couldn't be broken. but he wanted to hear your laugh again; the sound was his own pocket of warmth, even if you complained, sometimes, about your laugh being too loud and boisterous, he didn't care because you were happy and smiling and he wouldn't do anything to take that away.

he's still thinking of what to say when there's a buzz in both of your pockets - someone messaged the group chat. he watches as you pull your phone out of your pocket, typing in an answer that makes his phone vibrate again. he takes a peek at your screen.

Marco :D : my mom is going crazy over how many people she invited :')

she's showing me off to all her friends ijdlsk

constance : I'd show you off if I was your mom too tbh

sasha <3 : agreed

aww say hi to your mom for us!!

Marco :D : will do!! wish you guys were here tho :/

constance : kinda miss annoying jean right about now

sasha <3 : *atttachment : 1 image*

it was a picture of Connie sitting in the driver's seat in their parked car, and his phone was open to a video of jean grumbling something under his breath and connie leaning in close to him snickering and whispering a joke in his ear.

sasha <3 : he was watching this the entire ride while I was drivinf

constance : stop EXPOSING me

jean hears you snort out a small laugh. he sighs in annoyance, saying "I don't miss it." as an obvious lie.

you breathe out another laugh; jean wins again, and hold up the phone to take a picture of the two of you. it's a little blurry when you click it, jean holds a small smile looking at you and you hold up a peace sign with a smile that's yours.

the picture is sent to the groupchat. jean loops his arm into yours so you don't stray too far away from him while typing out 'trip 2 ice cream parlor for the hot choco'

marco :D : you two are inseparable istg :') send hot choco pics

(beautiful ass art presented to you by @ppushable )

Marco replies instantly.

constance : Marco asking for hot choclate pics like people ask for nudes

I'm 6'3 btw

sasha <3 : LIARRR

also wow hot chocolate without me????? sin.

you smile before switching your phone off and slipping it back into your pocket, saying something about how the two of you should steal their hot chocolate recipie. jean nods half-heartedly.

his mind is on fire. 'you two are inseparable istg' in Marco's words, something he hadn't thought about before. he didn't have to think about it, either, because being with you didn't make him question it. of course he'd always come back to you even if his bones were charred from the inside, even if his body screamed at him to take rest. you were his rest.

he thinks about how yes, the two of you are inseparable, and maybe he's being delusional, but he thinks about how you co-exist with him so peacefully : a feat noone could do with a smile on your face. there has to be cold to imply the existence of warmth, there had to be chaos to imply peace. there had to be you for there to be a him. he thinks about how glad he is to exist the same time and same place as you, your arms linked and pace synchronized. you rest your head on his shoulder when you walk. he thinks about how the two of you simply breathing in such close proximity beat all odds.

his heart beat faster at the thought. or maybe it didn't, maybe he was just aware of the fact that he had one, maybe you were the only one that could make him listen to his own heart that he had forgetten existed for a while.

an ungodly amount of hot chocolate had been drunk only because your "jean they have a discount and it's winter. we have to." persuasion had worked like always, and he had refused to let you pay like always, and you were rubbing your full belly as you unlocked the door to your apartment. it was dark now, reminding jean that winter had a way of forcing stillness and silence before it was due, but it didn't feel that way anymore. it didn't feel like there was a stillness or stiffness because the lights in your apartment were warm, and the hot chocolate had oiled up the machine of his body as much as your presence had. you removed your coat and shoes near the door and jean looked at you, surrounded with these lights and this warmth and softness and thought about how perfectly you belonged here. with him, sharing a space, the same air, the same layers. and he thought about how he belonged here too. with you.

"wish we could do that everyday," you claim, stretching your arms above your head, fingers interlocked. jean scoffed.

"im concerned about your diet." he said.

"it was the best meal we've ever had! if I commit murder and i'm put on death row-"

"death row doesn't exist in this state-"

"then I'd want, like, a whole barrel of hot chocolate as my last meal. with whipped cream on top."

"i think you'd be dead by chocolate overdose instead of the actual punishment."

you smiled, and jean swore he'd melt despite the cold weather after seeing the glint in your eye. "exactly. don't act like you wouldn't like to die by chocolate consumption. I've seen the way you look at chocolate ice cream."

jean clenches his jaw because you're right. "i dont look at-"

"yes you do. you look at it like it just like you look at Reiner's cat."

"she has a name, yknow." he reminds you, sitting beside you on your couch. his arms fold on top of his chest to keep his hands from straying and holding yours. hes afraid you'd feel the yearning behind his touch, because it was something he couldn't control. he could control his tongue from telling you about it, he could control his thoughts to an extent, he could control his stupid heart to an extent, but not his touch.

"right, my bad. what's her name, again?" you ask, just because you know it'll get a rise out of him.

it does.

"it's mcflurry. the fact that you forgot speaks a lot about your character, just so you know. im judging you."

you giggle. he loves it. "you're always judging everyone."

"not you. never you." he says. he doesn't just mean it for the judging everyone part, though, because his voice is soft and startlingly slow, enunciating every syllable because he wanted you to know. he wanted you to know and understand that he'd never not give you the benefit of doubt. he'd never doubt you in the first place.

you're not startled. you smile to match the tone of his voice and eyes. he inhales.

"thank you." you say. you want to say much more. jean doesn't need to hear much more though, because he knows already. he knows that you're not thanking him out of obligation, but out of devotion. like he had thanked the skies out of relief after his middle school English teacher got fired. it was deserved, honestly, the guy had it coming, and all the students had an unsaid hatred towards him-

your hand rests on his shoulder, rubbing the fabric of his shirt. jean exhales.

"whadya wanna watch?" you ask, reaching for the remote on the coffee table, your hand still on his shoulder as if you belong there.

you do.

"that episode of new girl we left out on." he says.

you smile. he belongs there. "fuck yes."

despite thinking that he'd sleep in and relax, his eyes woke him up just as the sun came up, which was to say extremely early. jean groaned as he stretched his limbs, finding himself on the sofa just as he was left last night; only without you. you had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he refused to move until you'd wake up, which turned out to be only twenty minutes ago. his head fell on yours and he fell asleep as such, and his mind quietened with the sound of the t.v. and your soft snores in his ear.

he blinked his bleary eyes up, his bones creaking in protest. but he didn't let them be heard because he found you, with your back facing him, outside the small balcony of your apartment.

it wasn't even a balcony - when you first moved in, it was just an empty space attached to the large window that was unkept and dirty. sasha and Mikasa, her previous roommate, didn't find that much of a use there anymore, but you did. you insisted on renovating the little platform, adding fake and real plants along with a small mat on the ground so anyone could sit there. come every small celebration, you'd decorate it with fairy lights and different ornaments, and jean found it all too endearing how you kept making things yours, including the kitchen that now held mugs with sayings that had outdated humor on them that you had purchased 'ironically', the couch which was now covered in a blanket you had found in a thrift store, the walls where you'd stuck up pictures of all of them together and little sticky notes that the five of you had passed around to each other during class throughout the year, and Jean's heart.

he'd let you rip apart any semblance of empty space in the workings of the pumping organ if you promised to make it yours in the process. and you had, somehow, because his heart now refused to feel empty, and just like you did with the apartment, you had marked every rusted and untamed part of him with your own touch and words that would play on repeat in his chambers for a long time.

he gets up from his place on the couch, passing a hand through his hair before making his way to where you stood outside. you were leaning on the railings, your chin resting on your palm. if he had to guess, it was almost 8 in the morning, the sun was shining in the way it always did in the winters - it's presence was known but shone only softly, refusing to be forgotten. jean leaned on the railing in the space right beside you, shoulders touching yet again.

you smiled at him. "good morning." you said, and your voice matched the skies above you - soft and refusing to be forgotten. he'd never forget you.

he smiled back, face scrunching up so his eyes were squinting as he looked at you, still getting used to the morning light. "morning." he replies raspily. "couldn't sleep?"

you shook your head, looking at the treetops below you. "slept well enough. thanks for being my pillow."

jean's ears redden. you're convinced it's the cold. "youre welcome." he wants to make a joke about how his services would need a payment, but he's too lost in the way your face is lit up by the sun to say anything.

even if you're looking away from him, he can see the shine in your eyes. you've always said, in your own way, that his eyes were really pretty, but he'd argue that it was your eyes that were pretty because only yours could meet his the way they did. only yours looked at him the way they did, only yours had the courage to. only yours could see the way you saw the world.

he looks at the way your lips are shining - he had noticed how whenever they were chapped and dry youd lick your lips a little too much. he had carved all your little traits into the forefront of his skull, drawing in shapes and filling in the blanks of the expanse so that it could be filled with you- your smile, your eyes, your hands, your laugh, your blinks. everything.

god, he thinks, he's so lovesick.

the wind brushes his hair away from his face. he can tell you're shivering slightly even if your arms are under a layer of thick sweater, and his chest heaves slowly - inhale, exhale, inhale - he tucks you under his arm to keep you warm. you smile. - exhale.

if there was a god that day, he was sure that he was out to get jean when he saw you use his mother's noodle soup recipe, warm foods to keep his insides safe not knowing that you were doing that already by just being there. the pair of you had the soup in two servings each, the second one topped with that new chilly crisp you had gotten, the one that made Jean's mouth turn into a puddle, and he was sure whatever fates had aligned that day were out to get jean because his stupid heart did that stupid thing it always did when he was around you. it didn't skip a beat anything poetic like the Hallmark movies, no, instead it stayed there, in his chest because that's where you belonged. it stayed with you, in his chest, in his wheezing, creaking, old machine that was only just realising that it was creaking and wheezing because it was loved.

and he swore he was down on his luck because he saw you dancing to the end credits of yet another shitty movie that you had jokingly decided to hate-watch but only ended up slightly liking - an opinion he would not share with anyone else but you - unsynchronised to the beat of the song, not knowing what to do with your hands, until jean joined you in the cramped space infront of your t.v. where you were dancing and held them, held your hands, guiding them to the melody, telling them what to do with a softness that was only reserved for you.

stupid beating heart.

when the last day rolled around, jean refused to move from his seat on your bed. the laptop you had decided to get homework done on was left askew on the unmade and comfortable bed, and Jean's neck held a small ache at its base, but it was worth it because you were beside him and he was sure your own neck had the same pains he had. it was well into noon, and unlike the previous day where the pair of you had woken up early, you were still dozing off at his side, rolled over with your back facing him.

he had never known this type of peace. the silence that coated the room was welcome to the point that it felt like it had always been there, something jean was only just realising.

he sighed. wondered about how his life had gone on without you in it for so long, how he'd been clambering for meaning not knowing that you were in it, the same earth, with the same beating heart. he wonders how he'd live without you again, how he'd avoid feeling the grief if you ever did leave.

he'd have to hold you then. he'd have to grasp on to you in the same gentle way that he always had, and not give you any reasons to leave. but that was the thing, right, because if you wanted to leave you'd have done it already, and you hadn't, so thst had to mean something, right?

he's always been afraid of loving too much. he'd always been afraid of the fact that he had too much to give, so he always ended not giving any of it because he was too cautious, too self aware to. but you made him comfortable in the way he had never felt before, you made him want to love you too much. he was still deathly afraid of it, but you made it bearable to look at it in the face without flinching.

the rustle beside him made him blink back into reality, turning his head towards your no longer sleeping figure, a small smile etching itself onto his stubborn lips.

what had you done to him?

the wires in his brain were wound too tight as you talked about everything and anything, him replying and adding onto your obscure sentences like they were always supposed to. the gears in his heart continued turning and turning and turning to the sound of your laugh when he, again, had made a joke as a desperate hope to make you commit to fleeting happiness.

it wasn't so fleeting for him, however, because it was you.

night rolled around just as you finished a late lunch/early breakfast for dinner situation - pancakes and french toast and hashbrowns sprinkled with seasonings - and jean rubbed his belly as he came face to face with the confrontation of him leaving in an hour.

but you were simply blinking, sitting infront of him, going through you phone to find a picture that you thought was relevant to the conversation, a smile on your face. and even if it was so mundane, so normal, it felt like a good dream. like he was going to wake up any time soon and come to the revelation that it had all been fake and conjured up because it had to, because there was no way this was real. when you finally found what you were looking for, flipping the phone around so he could see, he found a hard time looking away from your eyes and giddy smile.

did you know? you had to, right? he laughed covering his mouth with his hand as you flipped your phone back infront of you. you had to know. there was no way you didn't. there was no way you had turned him into himself without knowing that you were the cause of it. it was so obvious-

"I'll miss you." you say. it's a quiet admission, sounding like you've wanted to get it over with for a while now. hes sure you have. he looks at you and his heart - the damned machine - does what it always does; it clangs and makes noise.

maybe you hear it. maybe you're meant to.

"i know we'll see eachother again in a while but...I don't know. I've always wanted to spend new years with my friends and not alone. I'm glad we met. I'm glad we exist together." you say. it's not rushed or hidden or desperate. you're baring yourself open to him and it doesn't feel uncomfortable like it does when youre changing clothes infront of someone and you're bare and open and all your scars and hairs and marks are on display for them to see. it feels like this is how it's meant to be.

he blinks.

hes sure if there was music accompanying the moment, it would be swelling and high-pitched and perfect - the type that makes you feel and ache in just the right ways. but there wasn't, and the silence played a greater cacophony than any instrument, because your sentences didn't need embellishments to be pronounced. your statements didn't need proof of being alive - they were alive and bare open and vulnerable and so was he now, because of you.

his heart ached comfortably.

stupid, beating heart.

he realised he hadn't said anything when you got up from the table. he was still staring at the spot where you were a minute ago as you took both your dishes back to the sink. he blinks again. inhales, exhales. gets up to join you, takes your hands that were reaching for the soap in his own warm ones - god they're so warm - and says, "I'll miss you too."

he was glad there's no music. he's glad that his voice, even if it was soft and gentle, wasn't muddled with melody. inhale, you were smiling, exhale. blink. his involutary actions got more attention because you made him aware of his machine. how his machine didn't feel like a machine anymore. how his machine - metal and steel and nuts and bolts - felt soft. plyable. putty in your hands. you're squeezing his hands again; the comfortable ache returning and the two of you start doing the dishes that had been ignored for a while.

warm, orange lights glowed from above you, the sounds of dishes clanking and the sink running was the only things to be heard, and the domesticity became divinity. the kitchen became holy, and his hands - metal and steel and nuts and bolts - became the remark of a sculptor creating something beautiful. the moment didn't feel crafted but it felt like he had caused it, and if he was capable of creating something as great as this then he was sure he was walking side by side with God.

beating heart. inhale, exhale, his hands dry the plate you just handed him, he's hearing you hum softly to a song he knows far too well. inhale, exhale.

an hour had passed sooner than he liked it to, and he drove all the way to the airport next to you. you kept talking like you had to get it all out there before he left. it was only a month and a half, and he knew you knew you were being dramatic, but he loved it anyway. you opt the radio instead of the aux for the first time, surprised when your favourite song comes on.

he turns the volume up. you sing to match it's pitch. he wishes he can show you his childhood bedroom. you'd love it, he says. "i have speakers. i used that fact as like a bribe to make new fridnds. i told people, 'hey I have speakers in my room' and they'd want to hang out with me." what he didn't say, however, was that he only wanted them to see the speakers in his bedroom. now, he wanted you to see him in his bedroom, he wanted you to linger near the doorway. best part was, he knew you would someday.

it wasn't that long of a drive. it felt long though, somehow, because time stretched and restricted when he was with you, and he stopped the car at the airport gate with a heart pounding off from his chest. he wonders if yours was too, but one look at you confirms that yes, it was. you two were in the same boat, the same machine that had been sanded down and weathered until it was soft and rounded.

inhale, "well, this is...it" exhale.

you nod slowly, "this is it." you breathe out laugh. "why are we acting like we're never gonna see eachother again?" you say but you already know the answer. jean does too.

he laughs the same way you do, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks ahead, one hand on the steering wheel, refusing to move anywhere without you. "maybe it's the amount of movies we've seen." he says. a lie.

"and who's fault is that?" you ask, teasing and laughing.

"all mine." he admits. it was his. he doesn't feel any remorse for it.

you nod again. you're looking at him. the lights reflect in the water of your eyes.

"call me when you reach?" you ask.

he nods. "promise."

silence. inhale, exhale.

"i think I'm in love with you." you're the one that says it. if he could, he would hear the fast pace of your heart that beat dutifully with his own and he swears there's something in the cool winter air that been locked out of the car because there's no way he's hearing it right. there's no way he heard those words said with deliberate commitment and a hell of a lot of hope - something jean was learning to have from you - because no-one but you had the courage to regard him like this.

but it was you. of course it was you.

his hand holds your cheek before he can even think about it. he blinks. inhale, "I think I'm in love with you too," exhale. matching sentiments has always been easy, but it feels more breathable and bearable now. with you.

bearable, beating hearts.

you smile. you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, you smile so hard that your face feels like your face and not just a symbol of you, your face doesn't feel like a machine and it feels like muscle and skin and fat and blood like it's supposed to and you realize, a little too late, that jean makes you feel a little more human than you are in the way where it feels holy, almost, because being human has always been about being divine. jean makes you see it clearer than you have been seeing it.

another breath passes.

"is this the part where..." he swallows, trailing off. "where we kiss?"

you laugh. "you really think this is a hallmark movie, don't you?"

he laughs too. "no, if this was a hallmark movie then you'd be chasing me at the airport. you'd say-"

"oh my god," you're laughing and your stomach hurts comfortably.

"you'd say 'jean I've been in love with you since I laid my eyes on you'-"

"you wish," your voice is breathy.

"'i can't take my mind off of you, jean, and you deserve the best. also you're very handsome.' you'd say that."

you hold the hand that is resting on your cheek. "oh, jean, I've been in love with you ever since i saw you.-"

"ever since I laid my eyes on you. that sounds poetic."

"you're insufferable."

"and you're in love with me." he says. he's confident and he's never felt better about it than now.

you shake your head with an affectionate smile. "unfortunately yes."

there's a pause. the two of you are smiling. you lean forward to press a kiss on the top of his nose, turning it pink and human. "you'll get a kiss after getting back." you say. it's a promise.

"I'll look forward to it."

stupid, bearable, comfortable, beating organ.

his heart felt alive. his lungs felt like they were no longer chambers filled with air but something that could experience the space of being around you.

god, he was so lovesick. but he was with you, so it didn't matter.

he had you. he always would.

[jeanluva]

©jeanluva romantic lover

spotify playlist

"𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫"

various!aot x black!reader

summary - moving far away from marley to paradis college, y/n is determined to keep her past and reasonings for moving hidden. joining a new friend group wasn’t the plan and y/n is worried her fake persona is going to slip any moment.

content warnings - swearing, smut, ANGST, manipulation, dramaaaa, love triangle? more like a love circle, this series is full of WHORES, sensitive topics, toxic relationships/friendships, some depressing themes, also lots and lots of funny moments

genre - college!au, black!reader, fluff, crack, angst, smut, smau, written fic.

note - the songs on the playlist fit the theme of this story, so check it out first if you want an idea of what’s going on. a lot of the things that will happen, i do not romanticize anything that happens in the story, everything is only for storytelling purposes. some things that will be mentioned, i will put trigger warnings for, beforehand ! and all characters are 18+

status - ONGOING

profiles: y/n + friends / paradis

coming soon…

[oikawasgirl]

^⌒★ welcome! ミ✭

hi :) welcome to my page :) i’ve deleted all my stuff, and i’m not sure if i’ll wrote again. sorry! :)

[watevermelon]

✧ Summary: Jean makes you jealous as he fawns over Mikasa, you get back at him with giving attention to Eren.

➳ Anon Request:  hewwo!! I love you with all your sakusa fics but that AOT au? LOVE IT SO MUCH!! I was wondering if you'd do something for our fav horsey boy? Maybe he makes you jealous? ➳ A/N: Thank you so much!! I love AOT and this new season has me hype as FUCK!! I watch a lot of different animes so please feel free to ask for stuff I’ve already shown interest in - dwdw I love writing / making these ♡♡ ➳  Masterlist

Bonus:

➳  Masterlist

[firefly--bright]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧!

jean Kirstein x fem!reader

modern au.

summary ; you always believed that you couldn't choose who you loved. sometimes they chose you. and sometimes it's just because you got a really great deal on Paradis Community Posts.

you did find a great deal on Paradis Posts.

you found all of them.

⁀➷ a mix between an smau and actual writing. heavily new girl inspired, sitcom-y fanfiction, with snippets of how you weren't actively searching for it, but you found it anyway; a family to count on and maybe a certain someone's heart in your hands.

a/n ; this was in the drafts for SO long. am I promising a proper posting schedule? nope. but I WILL try and that's. important I hope.

warnings ; mild angst, slowburn, cringe jokes and emojis. 16+ ages recommended.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

introducing ; the homeless ➷ apartment 201

➷ episode 1 - pilot.

➷ episode 2 - the news.

➷ episode 3 - coffee grinds .

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

also on ; ao3 , wattpad .

fic visuals

fic playlist

enter my taglist!

main masterlist

general taglist ; @mrsnobodynobody @hopeless-anti-romantic @holding-infinity-and-a-book @jeanscremebrulee tba!

[firefly--bright]

jean kirstein x reader texts!!

this was my first time trying anything like this so!!! bonus groupchat texts with the gang (Connie, sasha and Marco :) ) also something light and fun before that emotionally draining fic I'm abt to post (planning on it being released next week) :) scroll till the end for some headcanons!

warnings : language, terrible "humor", reader is implied to be a girl as a joke

✿ masterlist is in pinned post ✿ taglist is open! ✿ requests for jean kirstein and Reiner Braun are open!! ✿

Connie changed his contact name in your phone to have two hearts to make jean jealous and youre just too lazy to change it

he also is always using emojis ironically

jean always saves a seat for you in class but you always tease him for it it's like a lil ritual :')

Marco is the sweetest person ever.

you and sasha have eachothers contacts saved as "loml" because you thought it would be cute when you first moved in w her (she's moved out now but you still have it saved as that)

lmk if I should make more of these!! requests r open!

[firefly--bright]

jean kirstein x reader texts!

ft. marco, Connie, and sasha. of course.

scenario - there's a party at Reiner's place, but you couldn't go because of an assignment. thankfully, a drunk jean on his phone is enough of an entertainment :)

warnings - kms jokes, jean making 10000 typos, cringe ass jokes I'm so sorry I cannot be funny to save my life (they're mainly from Connie though, so it should be in character), alcohol consumption + the after effects of it

a/n - DROWNING with homework rn lol so!! here's something low-effort to make up for no chapters/fics. i am terribly sorry but it will take a little longer than expected :( idk by when I'll be able to get some new ones out but it might be a while.

p.s. I had to merge two screenshots together,, so the quality might be shitty for a pic :')

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody @holding-infinity-and-a-book @jeanscremebrulee

✿ part one (can be read as a stand-alone!) ✿

masterlist is linked in pinned post! ✿ taglist is open, drop me an ask if you want to be added! ✿

✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[firefly--bright]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧!

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern smau.

⁀➷ episode one ; pilot !

➷ episode soundtrack.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

➷ Sunday, 12:12 p.m.

"-and the commute was just too much. I'd have to get up at, like, five just so I could reach campus on time, you know, and most days- most days I couldn't go back home after working at Smith's for so long, so I just ended up crashing at my ex's place, or sometimes at my best friends place." you say, your hands articulating your point, gesturing in the air as you sat on a couch chair that really had no job being this comfortable.

you smile nervously at your hosts. they seemed nice enough, you suppose, but you felt like they were seizing you up, like an animal up for adoption, trying to weigh all of the pros and cons of living with you.

the one on the far right of the couch - you think his name is Connie, you're not sure - has his forearms leaning on his knees, observing your every move, every blink with a slight squint in his usually large eyes. the one in the middle - had you seen him somewhere? - was doing the exact opposite of his room mate. his back was supported by the back of the couch, sitting himself as comfortably as he could, arms crossed over his chest. he had a blank look on his face and you noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching while you spoke. his eyes didn't leave you. from the moment you had stepped into the apartment with a small box of donuts from your shift at the café, he had not stopped looking at you. you were sure he probably didn't have eyelids because you hadn't seen him blink even once.

the only person that provides you any sort of comfort was the one sitting next to him, wearing a light brown sweater that covered his arms up till his elbows, the sleeves bunched up. he smiled gently at you, nodding at your ten minute long rant and if you knew more about him then maybe you'd assume that he was trying to calm you down.

"that sounds tiring," he says. you wave your hand infront of your face with a shrug and a smile. "it wasn't that bad until the start of this semester with the workload and stuff," you say.

the other two hadn't said anything. honestly, it would've been better if it were just you and marco talking, that way you would've been considerably less nervous.

the one on the far right took a breath, finally speaking up. "can you cook?" he asks. that's the first time you heard his voice, and it's a little surprising, but not as much as his question.

"Connie-" marco starts, but Connie jumps to his own defence. "what? she should be able to take care of herself!"

the one in the middle - you assumed he was jean - rolled his eyes. "we all know that's not why you're asking." he mutters, but it's loud enough for everyone to hear. "is that really all you think of me?" Connie retorts, putting a hand on his chest. marco raises his hands placatingly, trying to say something but it's, again, cut off by jean's (you wonder if anyone in this apartment has the freedom of speech), "I try not to think about you at all."

"after everything we've been through?"

"we haven't been through any-"

"what happened to being together until the end?"

"guys, please, not no-"

"we are not engaged,"

you clear your throat. the bickering is not bothering. if you really think about it, it reminds you of home, of a life before college. it's a little nostalgic, but you have to get back to your shift at the café in an hour and you really didn't have the time to allow yourself to be entertained by this.

"the apartment is great," you say. the three of them look at you, stopping all bickering immediately. jean clears his throat as well. "thanks." he says.

"how do you know she meant it for you, jean?" Connie says. there's a small smirk on his face, the one that you have when you willingly mess with noor.

he struck gold - jean clenches his jaw tighter, if that was possible and it strikes gold again.

you know where you've seen jean. it's not really a one off thing, but you know you've spotted him across campus, carrying a coffee that you made earlier that day, sporting a hat over his ashy blonde hair. you'd spotted him at the bus, sitting in the back seat, with his head propped up against the window, headphones on his ears. you spotted him in the graphics studio, clicking the mouse and tapping on the keyboard of the spare computers as you sat far behind him, glancing at what he was working on.

you didn't mean to be a stalker, really, but it was inevitable that the two of you crossed paths considering the fact that you had a couple overlapping lectures in the same parts of the uncomfortably large campus.

jean was the beautiful stranger.

you blinked, keeping that information locked up in your head. what he didn't know wouldn't kill him, and he certainly did not need to know about how you'd been trying to seek him out on campus, trying to see a familiar face that would bring you any sort of ground over the past few months.

glancing at marco - who looked at you apologetically - you looked back at the other two, still bickering. marco shook his head, getting up from the couch, inaudibly prompting you to do the same, leading you to the kitchen.

you weren't kidding when you said the apartment was great - it was spacious enough to feel roomy but not cold and empty. every corner felt like it had been lived in, like it had been breathed on, like no cleaner could ever remove the marks of the smudged fingerprints on the walls. you hadn't had the time to decorate your own apartment, if it could even be called that, making the space a little less livable than you'd have expected from yourself.

"I'm sorry about them," marco starts, looking at you with the same expression he had been sporting the entire time you were there. you laughed softly and shook your head. "it's okay. I'm used to it." you say.

marco doesn't press further, smiling gently himself. "I'm glad you liked the apartment," his eyes glance over behind him towards the narrow hallway that leads to everybody's rooms, "we don't know how many more room mate applications we'll get, but you're a pretty strong candidate up till now. considering, you know, you're our first one." he says. his wording makes you feel like it's supposed to; a business interaction, and you're reminded again, how this isn't your home. how you're a stranger to them and even if their banter made you look back to earlier years, your rambling probably hadn't done the same with them.

you nod, smiling politely. "thank you. im glad you think so."

➷ Sunday, 7:59 p.m.

"oh my god a dog? how old is he? do you have pictures?" noor asked, her brown eyes lighting up with excitement. you laugh a little, shaking your head at the questions.

"i don't have pictures cause apparently the dog - polo, by the way - is being babysat by Marco's friend. said he didnt want to have polo running around cause he thought I'd get overwhelmed." you said, shrugging, "he did ask me if I was allergic, though."

"wait, so, that's it? besides freckles they didn't even talk to you? Baldy asked you if you could cook and emo mullet barely spoke to you? that's it?" noor asked, taking a sip of the coffee you had given her. the two of you were waiting for the bus, the sun having dipped a little more than an hour ago.

"i mean... I don't blame them. they barely even know me." you say, rolling your shoulders to try and get rid of the tension in them.

noor sighed. "yeah, but that's the point. they're supposed to get to know you and make sure you're not, like, a creep."

"I'm a creep, I'm a wei-" you start singing, making noor join you with a laugh. "I'm a weirdo," she sings back, her tone changing down with the "o" to mimic the infamous Radiohead song.

you share a laugh, shaking your head. "I'm just glad that something's happening, you know? like I did something to move out. I tried, and that counts."

noor nods decisively. "yep. also this coffee fucks, what is it?"

you smile widely, proud of your own creation. "it's a new thing I tried. strawberry goes surprisingly well with coffee," you say, "and cinnamon."

"god it's amazing. you have to open your own cafe one day,"

"i mean I didn't invent the thing,"

"still." she insists, opening the lid of the cup a little to smell it, humming afterwards.

she didn't have to do this. waiting with you at the bus stand wasn't even supposed to be in her routine, but it somehow got added there without your permission. her dorm was walking distance from the campus, near her department, too. she called it a great deal, and you agreed, so she really didn't have to wait for the bus with you. but she did.

you were glad to have her. you didn't have anyone besides her, in all honesty. her shoulder had always been comforting and warm to lean on, ever since you had met. she left you with smiling lips and a full heart at the end of the day. senior year of highschool hadn't been the kindest to either of you, so you made up for it by being kind to eachother, and for noor, you were sure that it came easy. it was easy to believe that she could replace the sun because she had replaced the sun for you. she replaced all meaning of the world by just holding your hand.

and the world agreed, you were sure, because her smiles attracted so many wonderful people. some not as much, but she seemed to attract beauty everywhere she went. she became it.

sometimes, when you were actively trying not to think about how cold your bed felt, you thought about how you would not be surprised if she talked to you less. not in the sense that you didn't trust her, of course not, but in the sense that she could have the world in the palm of her hands. why would she elect to hold your palm after that offer? and trying not to think about this only led to thinking more about this, more about everything. but now was not the time to do so.

no, because you had things to look forward to. because noor was sitting beside you, despite the cool late january air with the warmth she provided. she smiled as she told you about how she had a film assignment that she was looking forward to because she had so many good ideas. you leaned back and listened to her like your life depended on it. maybe it did.

➷ Sunday, 8:17 p.m.

"got a new applicant." jean said, swallowing the bite of breakfast-for-dinner eggs that marco had decided to share. the latter stood near the stove, one hand on his hip and the other in the air with a spatula, waiting for the pancakes to cook, checking for bubbles near the edges like Jean's mom taught him to. marco hummed. Connie leaned over to jean, peeking at his phone, trying to see who texted about the apartment. jean furrowed his brows with a slight scowl, hiding his screen from Connie's eyes, who pouted dramatically.

jean tried not to laugh at his expression, but a small smile slipped out anyway. "his names floch," he said, not acknowledging Marco's little whoop of excitement after flipping his first non-burnt and perfectly golden brown pancake.

"ugh. i know him. hes such a know-it-all." Connie says, waving his fork in the air. marco sets the plate of almost all burnt pancakes (except for the one) in the centre of the table. "don't speak with your mouth full, con." he says.

"you think everyone's a know-it-all. have you considered that maybe you're a little dumb?"

"I'm expectionally smart." he says, sitting up straight.

there's a small beat of silence.

"did you mean exceptionally, connie?" marco asks, pausing from cutting his pancake.

another beat of silent.

jean snickers.

Connie rolls his eyes. "whatever the word is. i think we should choose the girl that came in today, if you guys even care."

jean glances at him from his plate. "we should decide that after going through the applicants."

marco nods. "yeah, we should give it atleast a week or two."

Connie sighs. "okay, but Im pretty sure she's the one."

jean drops his fork on the table, having finished his plate and leaning back into the chair. "seriously? you didn't even talk to her-"

"i did!"

"you asked her if she knew how to cook and she didn't even answer. how have you already made up your mind?"

Connie shrugs. "she tolerated our argument."

"it was barely an argum-"

"not a lot of people can do that." Connie says.

"you guys can get loud," marco says.

"that's what she said." Connie mumbles with a small laugh. jean smiles, covering it up with his glass of water.

"she did seem pretty nice. but we should still wait for other people. who knows?" marco shrugs, "maybe we'll find someone better."

"well, whoever you two decide on, just know my vote's going to be a no if it's not her." he says, leaning his head on his palm, his elbow against the table.

"why are you rooting so hard for a person you barely know Connie? just because she's pretty?" jean asks, equal parts curious and suspicious.

Connie smirks at a joke jean fails to understand. "sasha knows her, I'm pretty sure. her name sounded familiar but then I called sasha about it, and she said she works at Smith's with her."

"so basically you're on her side because of neo-nepotism?" marco asks with a small smile.

"i dont know what that means, but yeah, probably!" Connie agrees, a wide smile gracing his face. "besides," he continues, the smile now turning into a small smirk, "jean thinks she's pretty."

jean sits up straight, his jaw clenching. "when the hell did I say that?"

marco sighs, gulping his food down.

"literally just now when you asked me why I was rooting for her. you admitted that you thought she was pretty." Connie says. jean really thinks he's fucking with him. some times, jean can't tell what goes on in his friend's head, a gap that's bridged by sasha and marco. but the former is currently in her own small apartment with her boyfriend, and the latter is too busy shoving food into his mouth and avoiding jeans eye.

jean sputters. "i think all women are pre-"

"okay slut," Connie mutters.

"I'm not a slut, will you stop calling me that I am not a common who-"

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ previous episode ! (introducing; apartment 201) ➷ next episode ; the news !

⁀➷ fic visuals ➷ fic playlist

⁀➷ series masterlist ➷ main masterlist ➷ enter my taglist!

⁀➷ taglist ➷ @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @cherrypieyourface

⁀➷ a/n ➷ first chapter done!! 832982 more to go. i have a lot of Stuff Planned for this fic I just hope I don't get swept up with too much work (they say, with a pile of assignments to be completed). i hope you guys liked this :) I'm very sorry for any blurry images, my phone's screenshotting method is buggy.

⁀➷ comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated!

line dividers by @peachesofteal