#like god damn can you let armin enjoy for at least five minutes

[byhimawari]

no really because fuck i fucking love Armin and my heart aches for him like he’s also gone through soo much and it’s often overshadowed by all the other main characters’ trauma and and and

OKAY LISTEN. Maybe it’s because I relate to him the most that I’m so emotionally attached to his character, because I know how it feels to be insecure and weak in comparison to those around me, yet I still have to persevere somehow because there’s literally no other choice.

This scene in particular always gets to me. The self-sabotage of berating and belittling himself is SO heart breaking. It reveals the built up frustration and self-hate over the years, that even with the victories, he feels like he hasn't grown or improved or contributed DESPITE doing so much (his intelligence, logic, strategizing, attention to detail -- all in which have been so detrimental for the squad to make it as far as they did). He's so blinded by his insecurities, so much so that he's literally looking down at himself and raging about how useless he is.

The self-hate he says to himself in this scene is so intense. "I hate you. “You betrayed me, again and again." "The hope others had in me, I couldn't repay any of it. Not a single one." -- even though it was through his guidance and perseverance that they got this far in the first place. But because of how low he thinks of himself, his strengths are overlooked and doubted by his own self.

His trauma it's not spoken about enough. Like most characters, he also lost family. The boy lost his parents and grandfather. He was bullied, always was the underdog, the weakest link, the underestimated, and such negative connotations have been so heavily engraved into his entirety that he feels he never gets stronger, even when he does. We see it, but he doesn't, and it makes me sO SAD! No matter what, he's always doing his best and I want to hold him and tell him that his best is and will always be enough!!

I'M CRYING ARMIN BBY YOU ARE SO PRECIOUS YOU ARE SO LOVED AND I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! YOU ARE MY COMMANDER!!

THIS ONE IS GOING TO BREAK OUR HEARTS!!!!

[clefairymuke]

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

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Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

[chenziee]

Swipe left, please

[Read on my AO3 (link in blog description) or by copypasting link below, or under the cut]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932909

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin Ship: Jean/Armin Rating: General audiences Words: 2643 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Airports, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, jean is smitten, Because of course he is, Tinder, but not really, jean is a very responsible working adult, armin is a very responsible PhD student, you can interpret those words however you want, hanji is not a responsible lab boss, don't be like hanji in a lab

Summary: Getting stuck at the airport for hours because of the weather was the last thing Jean wanted today, but it was what he got and honestly, if it meant he could chat with this cute guy who swept a hard 'no' on Jean's Tinder for longer, he wouldn't say no to a few more hours.

Based on a twitter post which I don’t know how to dig up.

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This is a birthday gift for the sweetest, most precious @roxi4 <3 I’ve said this a lot of times but I love you so much and I wish I could personally beat 2021 into submission so that it’s the best goddamn year of your life for you. But, sadly, I’m not a god yet so I gotta settle for writing fics for now. 

Also yes, I am posting here like two weeks late because I’m lazy I’m sorry.

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Jean glared at the departure board, wishing he could set it on fire just like that. He understood things like this happened; he could see the heavy rain and wind outside—and people called this spring? Jean demanded a refund—so really, it could have been much worse, but a three hour delay for his three hours and thirty-five goddamned minutes flight was absolutely ridiculous and only slightly rage inducing.

He sighed in frustration and, grabbing his suitcase, he turned away to head to the closest coffee shop. He needed a damn coffee. Preferably spiked or with 8 shots of espresso, he’d decide in the line.

This was seriously so stupid. He had spent an entire week on this business trip and he was tired and the only thing he wanted was getting home to his cat and passing the hell out. At least the Melbourne airport was decent enough and he could safely be bored out of his mind with as much coffee as he needed without worrying he’d catch tetanus like he was at a certain American airport a few years ago. He would take his comfort where he could at this point.

Finally, he managed to order his coffee with only two extra espresso shots—he didn’t want to seem like that much of a psycho but the barista didn't even blink at his order and Jean had to wonder what weird shit the people at a busy airport had to deal with—and headed to the corner of the departure hall that seemed the quietest. There were only a few people loitering around there, all looking just as exhausted as Jean felt. Seemed like Jean would fit right in with their collective coma.

Making his way to one of the empty seats, Jean had to weave his way through the maze of suitcases until one of them caught his attention. Or, more specifically, the book laying carefully bookmarked and discarded on it. Who in their right mind read what looked like an entire fucking encyclopaedia full of words Jean probably couldn't even pronounce while waiting on their plane? No wonder the owner put it aside eventually.

Jean inadvertently looked up at the person sitting next to the suitcase and he did a double take. He had expected some old fart, the type that just screamed of a dreadfully boring college professor who preferred his test tubes or calculations to his students—or people in general, really—not this… tiny, adorable, small animal type of guy who, from his profile, looked around Jean’s age or even younger.

He took in the young man’s small frame, the short, blond hair, and the way he sat cross legged on the hard, uncomfortable airport chair and Jean couldn’t get over how cute the sight was. He was really glad the other man was so engrossed in his phone because even Jean could tell he was staring      .  

And then something else caught Jean’s eye.

Was that Tinder on his phone? Was that… Jean’s ancient Tinder he was looking at?

Jean felt heat coming up to his face. He hadn’t used the stupid app in years, probably since like... his second year of college. He didn’t even know why he didn’t delete his profile but now he was glad he didn’t because it would be really nice to know if he should even bother trying to strike up conversation here.

With bated breath, Jean waited for the verdict. He watched as if in slow motion as the blond’s thumb moved to touch the screen and swiped—

Left.

Of course it was left.

Unable to stop himself, an awkward laugh forced its way past his lips and he heard himself say, “Hard no for him?”

Even the way he jumped at Jean’s words was cute. And when wide, impossibly blue eyes met his own, Jean felt his stomach drop. Damn, this left swipe really hurt. Jean really had a talent for getting his heart broken before he even had the chance to try. First Mikasa, now this. Did someone up there have something against him?

A few silent, painfully awkward seconds of the two of them just staring at each other passed, until the blond opened his mouth to speak, “If it makes you feel any better, your profile pic really doesn’t do you any favours.”

Jean groaned. Of course. He knew he shouldn’t have let Eren choose his picture, the absolute asshole. He couldn’t believe he still called this guy a friend. Getting roomed with him at the dorm in college was seriously the worst thing to happen in his life.  

“Thanks, I guess,” Jean said lamely, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. Could this get any more awkward?

The other guy laughed then, and it was the sweetest laugh Jean had ever heard. “You’re welcome,” he said, smirning at Jean as he held out his hand. “I’m Armin. Jean, right?”

Jean shook Armin’s hand, almost asking where he had learned his name but managing to stop himself at the last second. They literally just talked about Jean’s embarrassing Tinder profile for God’s sake.

“Nice to meet you,” he said instead, hoping that was a better way to go about it than making a bigger idiot out of himself.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was, as Armin gestured to the empty seat next to him and Jean gratefully took it, making himself as comfortable as he could in the stupid airport chair. Seriously, why were airport chairs always so uncomfortable? People were sitting on these for hours at a time every day, one would think someone would make sure their asses were not hurting. Although, now that he thought about it, cushioned chairs probably wouldn’t last very long—or stay reasonably sanitary, for that matter. It was probably a good thing his ass hurt already.

Jean took his first, long-overdue sip of his coffee before he gestured towards Armin’s suitcase. “Interesting book you’ve got there. Wanted a bit of light reading?”

Armin paused, looking at Jean as if he was trying to figure him out. “Please tell me that was an intentional Harry Potter reference,” he said after a moment. Oh, Jean was so happy he had caught that.

“Maybe,” he only replied, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup.

Huffing in amusement, Armin glanced at his terrifying looking book instead. “Just trying to do some research for my final thesis. But I have to admit some people really can’t write in an interesting way even when talking about interesting topics.”

“Hear, hear,” Jean muttered. “Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to publish books, especially if they then make people study from those.” He still remembered the pain from school. He particularly enjoyed the teachers who required the students read their own God-awful books. It was always a guarantee for the most boring read of the year.

“I know!” Armin cried, gesturing around in frustration and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I can’t wait to finish my Ph.D. so I that can not read the things I don’t want to.”

Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm. He really had to love his field of study to get this passionate about shitty books. “What are you studying?” he asked curiously.

“Marine biology,” Armin beamed, making Jean gulp.

Ocean. Fish. Corals. That was about as much as his humble business management brain knew about marine biology. Couldn’t really impress with that, could he? “And you’re doing a PhD. in that?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I’m just coming back home from giving a guest lecture at the university."

"Melbourne university?" Jean asked, raising a brow. He kind of hoped he was wrong and he wasn't just casually chatting with some up and coming scientist celebrity.

"Yeah," Arming confirmed and blushed slightly.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jean admitted, though now he was positive that if Armin started talking science to him, he wouldn't understand a word.

Armin's eyes dropped as he looked away, obviously embarrassed by the praise, then he shrugged and quietly replied, "Not really. This stuff is really easy when you have good teachers."

Jean shook his head. "Nah, if you don't have it in you, it doesn't matter how good a teacher is. You can kiss any degree goodbye then, never mind giving lectures."

He heard Armin huff in amusement and goddamn it, it gave him butterflies. He was so fucked.

"Thank you," the blond said, smiling at Jean brightly before he continued. "How about you? Where to?"

Jean sighed wearily, sagging in his seat as he remembered his exhaustion. "Also home. On my way back from an absolutely stupid business trip."

"Why stupid?" Armin asked as he turned around in his seat to face Jean properly.

Jean mirrored him immediately, hooking one arm behind the backrest as he leaned on the chair sideways. He really enjoyed talking to this random, sweet stranger and he was really glad it seemed to be mutual. He was going to hate saying goodbye.

Suddenly, he wouldn't have minded if his flight got delayed a few more hours.

"Just, you know, people," Jean muttered in distaste. "One would think only customers can be complete idiots. Turns out coworkers can sometimes be even worse."

Armin laughed at his words, nodding along enthusiastically. "God I know. Sometimes I want to kill the doctor leading my lab. Hanji’s a genius but there is so much energy and she can be so stupid. She almost blows up or floods the lab at least once a week."

"I'm sorry, that must be so hard to deal with—" Jean cringed in sympathy at the mere idea of it— "Reminds me of my team. I love them but once in a while, I just want to fire them all when they start organizing paper boat races in the bathroom. Paper boats made from paperwork they don't want to do, by the way."

"Ouch." Armin sounded solemn but Jean could hear the hidden laughter and he just knew he found Sasha and Connie's stupid ideas hilarious. Which… Jean could admit they were, just not when he was the one who then had to explain the mess and unfinished work to his boss.

“Stop laughing,” Jean hissed, though with no real venom in his voice.

“I’m not!” Armin defended himself, but then burst out laughing when Jean glared at him so he quickly corrected himself, “Okay, yeah, I am. Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all and Jean sighed. “Everyone always finds my suffering funny.”

Armin let him grumble to himself for a bit, the two of them sitting in relative silence for a moment and… it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually relaxing and Jean really didn’t want this to end. “So hey—” He paused, glancing at Armin carefully, almost afraid to ask— “when is your flight?”

“Hopefully, in like two and a half hours. Got delayed almost as long as the flight itself.”

Jean almost said it was the same for him but he stopped. Could it be…? “You’re not flying to Auckland, are you?”

Armin visibly startled, blinking at Jean with eyes full of surprise. “Yes, actually,” he said slowly and Jean couldn’t believe it. He had thought he would never see this this cute, fun person ever again but—

“Me, too,” he said quietly and the two of them continued staring at each other in shock for a few moments more until they both burst out laughing.

Incredible. They were both flying to the same place and they would be within reach of each other and maybe there was a point in actually pursuing this. “So, uhm, wanna grab a coffee?” Jean asked awkwardly, pointing in the general direction of the food court.

And only when Armin looked pointedly at his pointing hand, did Jean realize he was still holding his over-caffeinated coffee cup. He really hoped his face wasn’t as on fire as it felt.

Armin only chuckled, thankfully not commenting on Jean’s blunder, and rather suggesting, “How about some actual food instead?”

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By the time they got off the plane in Auckland, Jean was on cloud nine as he gently squeezed Armin’s hand in his. Jean was still not sure this was real; they had spent the entire time at the airport and during their flight chatting—not that they had miraculously had seats next to each other like in the movies, but Jean did bribe an older lady with wine to switch seats with him—and it was the best damn flight delay he could have asked for.

It felt so natural and easy being with Armin, he couldn’t wait to get to know him more during their date tomorrow, and hopefully many more after. Because Jean would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely gone for this charming, adorable genius already.

As they walked through the exit into the arrival hall together, Armin immediately waved at his friend who was picking him up. Jean had offered to give him a ride since he had his car parked at the airport but Armin had said this friend of his would be worried if he just suddenly cancelled and—

Oh hell no.

Jean stared at the tall, young man with long hair tied up in a messy bun who was walking towards them, watching as his wide smile froze when their eyes met. Of fucking course. Jean just couldn’t have any nice things in life, could he?

“Unhand my best friend, Horse Face,” Eren growled and Jean took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

It didn’t work. “Unhand my boss, then,” he shot back, throwing a pointed stare at where Eren had his arm wrapped around the short, grumpy man who just so happened to be both Jean’s boss and his ex-roommate’s boyfriend. Levi was already sighing and rolling his eyes at them and Jean really hoped this wouldn’t affect his bonus this quarter.

But Eren started it.  

“You have no say in that,” Eren hissed, visibly bristling as his hold on Levi only tightened.

“Oh, so you admit it’s unreasonable?” Jean asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jean could hear Armin gasp as he finally realized what was going on. Obviously, he also didn’t expect this to happen and Jean was glad he wasn’t the only one. Although, really, how did it not occur to Jean that Armin was that Armin? It wasn’t exactly a common name around Auckland…

Just as Eren was getting ready to snap back at him, both Levi and Armin sighed before Levi intervened, “Shut the hell up, both of you. Have this fight when I’m not around for it or I’m talking Armin and leaving your asses here.”

“I second this movement,” Armin said firmly tugging at Jean’s hand for good measure.

Both Eren and Jean closed their mouths then, both knowing full well that was not an empty threat coming from the short grump. Not that Jean wouldn’t get back by himself but he would be stuck with driving Eren, too, without anyone there to mediate, and that would be a disaster.

They glared at each other silently for a second, until Eren hissed at him, “Usual bar, tonight. We’re having a talk.”  

“I’ll be there, I need a fucking drink after this,” Jean muttered back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Giving Armin a kiss on the cheek, Jean quickly retreated out of Eren’s glare’s range and towards his car so that he could get some fucking sleep before he would go out and get drunk while Eren threatened him with violence for apparently seducing his best friend, or whatever Eren would take out of this… situation. How did shit like this even happen in real life? He seriously wondered what he did in his past life to get karma like this.

At least Armin was worth it.