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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Keep It Between Us

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader X Jean Kirstein

Genre: Idol AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor

Summary: Eren and Jean are one of the hottest male idols working in the industry right now, but honestly? You’re tired of their antics. You’ve been working as their personal assistant for three months and your patience is about to snap. One night, with cocky smirks and leering eyes, they invite you over for a drink. You smile. It’s time for your revenge.

Warnings: threesome, rough and unprotected sex, food play, daddy kink, degradation kink, humiliation, cream pie, slapping, spanking, spitting, choking, use of a leash, oral sex (blow jobs and cunnilingus), fingering, hand job, praising, hard dom Eren, switch reader (but more of a dom) and sub Jean with EreJean being chaotic bisexuals.

Word Count: 20K+ (I'm so sorry, I need to include plot to make their threesome believable)

AN: Dedicating this fic to my most favorite person in the world, Sandra (@smfics), who's having her birthday today! 🎉🎉🎉This is part of her Reader's in Charge collab too. Thank you for giving me the opportunity, babe! I had so much fun writing this one, this is probably my filthiest fic so far lmao. Idol Ren will also show up in her fic called A Little Too Personal so if you want to see some seggsy times between him and CEO Ren, don't miss that one too!

Poster art by the talented @viii0_8 on Twitter (use with permission)

“You want us to do what?”

“Suck each other off.”

It’s their first time witnessing a filthy smirk written on your face. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you’re dressed in nothing but your lacy lingerie, your breasts fully exposed. You have your legs crossed with your palms settled on the sheets, leaning back with your chin tilted up in vanity. You’re exuding confidence; a thick layer of enticement fogging your enchanting eyes.

Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein, two talented idols from an infamous four-member group named AXIS, eye you up and down, almost gawking at the sight. A hungry look flits through their faces, wanting nothing more but to wipe that conceited smile off your lips. They’re so used to being wanted, of having their names screamed by their fans, that they are left stupefied when the girl they want seems to stay unfazed under their lustful stare.

You meet the intensity of their gazes with your mischievous one, loving the way they’re dancing in the palm of your hand. You’re done acting as their silly little doll. The strings have been cut off and now it’s time for you to become their puppeteer.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a threesome,” Jean says, “But this is not how it works, Sweetheart.” His usual cocky smirk remains intact but with the plans you have in mind, it won’t stay there for long.

“It’s either his cock in your mouth and my cock in your cunt,” Eren joins in. Unlike Jean, his smirk is impish. Boyish. Bratty. “Or the other way around.”

“Oh, stop being so predictable.” You roll your eyes, but it’s playful. Combined with your little crooked grin? Seductive. “Let’s have fun.”

“If by fun, you mean having this asshole’s cock in my mouth,” Jean snorts. “Then, no thanks.”

Eren chortles cynically. “Yeah, it wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“What did you say, Jaeger?”

“I’m saying my cock is bigger than your ego and that’s saying something. What, you got a problem with that, Horseface?”

“You fucking—” Jean stops short when he notices you’re shifting in your seat.

Both men’s attention instantly lands on the way you’re spreading your legs, giving them enough glimpse of your bright red embroidered thong panty. Your lingerie looks amazing on you, the color complimenting your skin so much, it makes their throbbing lengths strain against their jeans. It doesn’t leave much room for their imagination to wander, but that’s exactly what they want to see. They don’t want to just imagine holding you. They want to fuck your brains out.

“When I said fun,” you coo, running your tongue across your lower lip, making it glisten beautifully under the dim, yellowish light of their hotel room. “I meant…” Tarrying, you slide your fingers down your stomach. Making their way to settle between your thighs, you rub your clothed heat, letting out a low, “Mmm,” as you keep your gazes locked. “Having you both fuck me at the same time.” You let your jaw drop slightly, enough to let them take a peek at your tongue. “And I wasn’t talking about having you in my mouth.”

You, right now, are sexier than any girl—than any porn they’ve ever seen. Eren, especially, after going through weeks of wanting to know how fucking sweet you would taste on his tongue, is about to lose it.

There are two seconds of silence where you can practically hear their thoughts running a thousand miles per hour, then—

“Wait!” Jean’s face nearly bursts into flames when his bandmate turns to face him, hasty hands working on his belt. “No—stop—” Eren harshly yanks his belt out of his loops, tossing it to the floor before his fingers work on Jean’s zipper. “Eren—What the fuck are you doing?!”

The brunette grabs a fistful of the other man’s shirt, yanking him down by the collar. “Improvising,” Eren states, a moment before their mouths collide.

But let’s stop there for a second.

Now, you must be wondering, how the hell did I get myself into this situation? How did you manage to get the two hottest idols working in the industry wrapped around your fingers? How did you get the world’s two straightest men to toss their sexuality aside under your command?

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

***

Three months ago, you were just a normal college student—just as broke, just as tired, just as single. And frustrated. In more ways than one—no, perhaps even in every way. You were doing okay with your grades but other than that? You were screwed. You barely had any friends, you had family issues just like any other teen out there, and what’s worse was that you needed money to pay for your college tuition fee, otherwise you couldn’t graduate. And you didn’t just spend three years in that shithole just to not graduate in the end.

So, obviously, you started looking for a job. You were ready to take a late-night shift at a local diner when your phone rang. It was truly a blessing, you thought, when your aunt’s name showed up on the screen. “Are you free this summer?” She queried with nothing but weariness in her voice. You felt sorry, sure, but her being that exhausted only meant one thing: money. “I could really use your help.”

Your aunt was a manager, hired by CMN Entertainment. What did she manage? Idols.

Ever since three years ago, she had been working together with CMN’s latest rising star—a talented group called AXIS. You’d seen them enough on TV, though you wouldn’t call yourself a fan, at least not a hardcore one. You felt like it was too old for you to drool over cute boys dancing to electronic pop music. And their merchandises were also expensive as fuck. You weren’t ready to live the hard life of being a fangirl.

“My body literally can’t take it anymore,” she sighed. “I got offers from a lot of people, begging the boys to do interviews with them, or perform on their shows, or drink some questionable sodas for these damn summer commercials. I need to deal with all the meetings. Not to mention I have to arrange their schedules too. Every member has their own gigs now and I am losing my mind.”

You smiled, seemingly sweet but utterly wicked. “And how may I help you?”

“Can you be my assistant? I need you to take care of the boys, just for three months. Once the summer ends, they won’t be as busy as they are now so you can leave if you want to. It’s really simple. You just have to get their coffees, order food for them, deliver their costumes, and drive them places. And just, you know, do what they ask you to do.”

Now, that didn’t sound so bad at all, did it? The payment was good, and you’d get to return to your dorm by the end of summer. Three months with four cute boys who wore sexy outfits on the stage. This should be fun, you giggled, almost evilly in your head. They seemed so kind and adorable when you saw them on TV, always smiling during their concerts, treating their fans like they were friends during fan meetings. Out of all the boy bands that were working in the industry right now, AXIS was one of the very few groups that seemed genuinely humble.

So when you strolled inside the building of CMN Entertainment, you had the biggest smile plastered on your face. You were so excited to begin your friendship with four young celebrities whose popularity was escalating quickly not just within the country, but overseas too. You felt proud and lucky, but mostly proud. By the end of this job, you would totally brag about it non-stop to your friends. Hell, you’d probably even gloat about it to the next stranger you met on the street. “Guess who’s the lucky bitch who gets to see AXIS’ bare faces in the morning? Me.” It may sound a bit creepy, but it would be a great conversation starter, nonetheless.

Within a matter of three days, however, you realized that fun was not the right term. Torture was more like it.

Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Marco Bodt. You weren’t sure why the hell did they choose the word AXIS to be their group name, but it was clearly not an acronym for their names. They were the boys you had to assist for about ninety days from now. But you weren’t their assistant. You were their fucking slave.

Now, to be fair, Armin and Marco—these two were truly sweethearts. They greeted you with a smile the second you were introduced to them by your aunt—who left hurriedly to take a call after saying literally three lines. When you offered Armin your hand, he took it and reciprocated with the warmest, teddy bear hug you had ever received from a boy. Marco had the cutest freckles on his face, and he laughed wholeheartedly when you told him that you thought those were just make-up to make him seem unique. “You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?” he spoke fondly. He bent his head down so you could take a closer look, even let you poke his cheek if you wanted to.

They whipped out their phones, typing down your numbers in their emergency contact list. You saw Armin adding a smiley emoji after your name and when he saw you noticing, he blushed a little. “I do that to all my friends’ names,” he explained diffidently. “It makes me feel less awkward whenever I have to call them. Is it weird?”

You mirrored his smile. “I do the same thing. But instead of adding emojis, I just create nicknames for them.”

“Oh, then create one for me!” His cerulean eyes lit up beautifully. You were the same age as the boys, but Armin seemed five years younger.

Marco slung his arm around his shoulders, chiming in, “Me too, me too.”

“Sure.” You beamed. “Then Armin will be Bambi, ‘cause you’re literally a sweet, gentle baby deer in human form, I won’t even argue about it. And you,” you gestured toward the other boy, “You will be Freckles.”

Marco scrunched his nose cutely. “Why do I always get the most obvious, boring nickname out there?”

“Fine, then you’ll be Mini Santa.”

Not soon after, you proceeded to do your first job: bring them their coffees. When you asked about their orders, Armin and Marco simply answered with, “Iced Americano, please?” and “A mochaccino would be great, thank you.” They made their requests politely with a smile, genuinely thanking you for the inconvenience. You felt warmth spreading in your chest. They were angels.

But the other two boys. Now, they were the devils. No, they are the most atrocious, vile, infuriating little cacodemons who, somehow, managed to crawl their ways up from the deepest pit of hell. Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. Honest to God, there had been no men—or women—in your life that had ever tested your patience this much over the course of thirty minutes.

Their looks were out-worldly, that was the initial thought that entered your mind when you saw them in person for the first time. You had always thought that they were handsome, but when you saw them in real life, they were ethereal. Eren had the greenest, prettiest eyes you had ever seen in a man. Not that you had seen a lot of men, but your point still stood. His dark brown hair looked so soft—probably softer than a baby’s ass, for the lack of a better metaphor—and his eyelashes were long, beautifully so. If it wasn’t because of his strong, masculine jawlines, his high cheekbones, and obviously, the thing hanging between his legs, he could’ve passed as a woman. He could’ve passed as a woman and could be prettier than you.

You remembered that his hair used to be long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, but his hair stylist recently did something new. They have trimmed his strands just a little so that the ends of his locks fall just a couple of inches below his jawlines. He still wore it in a bun, every now and then, as it was his iconic look. People even started calling it “The Jaeger'' when they went to the barbershop, hoping to copy his style but ended up looking like acorns in the end. None of them could sport a bun as hot as he did.

He was the Visual of The Group, their fans called him as if that was a real position. He was AXIS' lead dancer, talented enough for his skills to be praised by popular choreographers around the world. The company made him the center of attention, always dressing him in the sexiest, questionable outfits on stage—sometimes, even more revealing than what Beyonce would wear. One time, he wore a crop top with a leash wrapped around his neck and silver chains circling his waist and he broke the internet. His name trended on Twitter for three consecutive days with hundreds of thirst tweets popping up every hour. Now, with the new haircut and the simple, black hoodie he was wearing, he seemed more boyish than sexy, which was a nice, fresh change. There was no way you’d think someone who looked as sweet as Eren Jaeger would turn out to be incarnate of Lucifer himself.

Let’s move on to the other fiend: Jean Kirstein. He was tall. You’d never seen an asshole this gigantic in your twenty-one years of living. He was stunning, all of them were, but Jean reeked with so much masculinity, he was basically a walking version of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent—the manliest fragrance out there, no doubt. He had a mullet, which you thought was a fashion disaster at first but this man… Damn. He rocked that hairstyle like Elvis Presley had rocked his. You could tell that he could grow a beard if he wanted to, but he shaved his stubbles every day to make him look younger on the screen (because if he had sported a beard, he'd probably look like Armin's dad and no one wanted to be mistaken dancing to sexy routines on the stage with their son).

Armin and Marco were the lead and main vocals of the group, while Jean was their leader. He was the one in charge during interviews and press conferences, but that was not all. What he was truly in charge of was being sexy. It felt dumb if you said it out loud as there was no such position, but he was. The company designed him to be that way. Eren seduced his audience with his sexy expressions—or his dangerous hip thrusts—on the stage, but he had never taken his shirt off for fanservice (as he was already barely wearing any, to begin with, but that was not the point). The point was, Jean did that every fucking time. If he was wearing a button-up shirt, he would rip it open by the end of the song. If he was wearing a normal shirt, he would still rip it open by the end of the song—maybe even from the start if he was having a good day. You read once on the internet that a thirteen-year-old girl brought her mother to see their concert, and she was dragged home by her ear as soon as Jean turned the show into his personal strip club. You weren’t even remotely surprised. You just hoped you were there to see it live.

Eren and Jean didn’t even bother to remember your name. When you introduced yourself, the brunette yawned, slouching on his swivel chair. Jean, who sat on his opposite, was busy smirking at his phone, probably looking at the nudes his groupies sent him. But it was okay. You didn’t think too much about it. You were shocked, sure, especially after the cordial treatment you had received from Armin and Marco, but you wouldn't hold a grudge against them.

“I’m heading to the coffee shop, do you guys need anything?” You asked them with a smile. Back then on your first day, you hadn’t known any better. You thought they were going to give their answers as simple as Armin and Marco did. So when Eren sank further into his chair, crossed his legs, and propped his cheek on his knuckles as he stared flatly at you, you didn’t think his answer would be, “An iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti, with breve, five pump vanilla, seven pump caramel, four Splenda, and poured, not shaken.”

You blinked your eyes, staring dumbly. “Sorry, what?”

He sighed, looking like giving out his order was the most exhausting job a man had ever had to do. “If you still need me to repeat this one more time, I’m gonna have to tell the manager to get me another assistant because you suck at your job.”

You staggered, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Eren,” Armin scolded him. You noticed that whenever Armin was upset, he looked like an angry toy poodle. “That’s not nice.” Eren returned his chastise with a groan, while the blonde-haired boy sent you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Eren has severe mood swings in the morning. You’ll get used to it, I hope?”

“Or you can just quit,” Jean offered, giving you a once-over. “I mean, you’re pretty, but so do hundreds of other girls who would die to get this job. If you can’t even get our coffees right, then maybe you should walk away.” Without giving you a chance to debate his words, he rose from his chair. He walked closer, towering above you as he stood before you. Fuck, you thought, he does smell like Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent. Only ten times better. He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, angling your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. “Unless,” he murmured, his lips curving up in a waggish grin, his eyes ricocheting to your lips. “There’s something else you’re good at?”

His breath fanned your skin, and you knew just how many of your friends would turn to puddles if they were in your shoes. But you were not one of them. No matter how attractive he was, or how good he smelled (like camphorous eucalyptus and tart bergamot, spreading out in cool waves on the skin, goddamn) you would never allow a man to talk to you like that.

You swatted his hand away, not too harshly—‘cause, unfortunately, your life literally depended on this job—but enough to leave him dumbfounded. “I’ll get them right,” you said through gritted teeth. “May I have your order, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean loved it. He loved the fire in you. “Iced venti caramel macchiato,” he said, and you hurriedly rummaged through your bag, searching for your phone to type down his order. “Fifteen pumps of vanilla syrup, made with heavy whipping cream, barely any ice, one shot, add whip, and extra caramel drizzle.”

Your thumbs were running like wildfire on the screen, trying to keep up with him. There must have been something you missed but you knew if you asked him to reiterate his order, he would mock you non-stop about it. So, you didn’t.

You turned your head to Eren. “And you, Mr. Jaeger?”

Eren’s eyes were half-lidded, filled with boredom. “Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk—”

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like what you ordered before. I thought you were ordering Ri… stretto…” Your voice faltered, noticing that he was this close at snapping at you again. “Right, sorry. It’s your drink, you can order whatever you want to—anyway, what was it again?”

You returned twenty-six minutes later carrying four tall cups of coffee in one hand, and a bag of sandwiches and blueberry muffins in the other. They didn’t ask for the food but you thought their show was going to start in an hour and you weren’t sure if they had breakfast yet (yes, despite your cheeky attitude, you did have a soft heart for these boys Armin and Marco). You hurriedly marched back into their waiting room, a thin layer of sweat coating your temple. “Okay, so one mochaccino for Bambi.” You handed Armin his cup with a smile, still somewhat breathless after all the running you did. “One iced americano for Freckles.”

“I thought it was Mini Santa.”

“Right. Mini Santa. Sorry.” You grinned, giving him his drink. Marco and Armin exchanged silent messages as they locked their stares, making you frown. “W-what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

They switched their drinks. “Nothing,” they both said and you smacked yourself on the forehead.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grimaced. “You ordered the simplest thing and I still mixed up your names.”

But these boys just simply laughed it off. “Please, it’s just coffee,” Armin tittered, “And believe me, a lot of people got it wrong too. I think it’s partially because I look like this that they’d expect me to favor something sweeter.”

“And I look mature enough to not have a sweet tooth, but I do.” Marco patted your head like how a big brother would do. “Take it easy, shorty. No need to apologize.”

“Okay,” you breathed out in relief. “I swear, I’ll be better next time.” You focused back on the last two drinks. “All right. Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk, whipped cream, seven Splendas; six mixed in, one sprinkled on top of the whipped cream—” You stopped to take a breath. “—to make it crunchy.” Just reading his order out loud almost left you wheezing. You didn’t want to remember the funny look the barista gave you when you described it to them. “For Mr. Eren Jaeger.” You offered him his cup with two hands, dramatically bowing your head as low as possible as you did it. “Here you go, My Lord.”

Armin giggled at your antic but Eren took his drink without a word, and unlike Marco who immediately took a sip of his coffee to show his gratitude, Eren left it abandoned on his desk, simply returning to his phone, yawning again.

You let out a harsh breath, reminding yourself to be patient. You read Jean’s order next, but before you could finish, you found him snickering at you. You stopped, almost throwing ice daggers at him with your eyes if you hadn't been careful. “Is there something funny, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean stood up from the couch, placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he made his way toward the door. When he walked past you, he laid a hand on your head, “I don’t drink coffee, Sweetheart. Might want to do some research before you take the job.” And he left.

You thought the Lord was testing you, but He hadn’t even begun.

The first month was absolute torment. You thought it was because you were still adjusting to your new work environment and their personalities, but no, you were certain that it was because Eren and Jean did not understand the difference between your office hours and your leave-me-the-fuck-alone time. Your working hours were inconsistent, fluctuating based on their schedule and that was okay as you had been informed from the start. But you were paid to assist them for only forty hours a week. And with the way it was going, that was not the case.

It was two in the fucking morning when your phone vibrated under your pillow. With bleary eyes and the biggest scowl your face had ever formed in your life, you checked on your screen. Devil Incarnate #2 was calling you.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Jean’s gravelly voice echoed from the other line. He still hadn’t remembered your name, alternating to calling you with endearing terms—like Sweetheart or Darling—but always in a slightly degrading way. Sometimes, like right now, he did it flirtatiously, which felt kind of icky to you. But most of the time, he was just downright irritating. “I’m glad you picked up. Were you sleeping?”

“Oh, no, I was chatting with your mom. She’s awfully close with Eren, don’t you think? Might be a little too close, if you know what I mean.”

The smirk in his voice vanished almost instantly. “That’s not funny.”

“Please tell me this is not a booty call. I don't plan on castrating someone this early in the morning."

He chuckled. “There’s no need for that, I already have one sucking on my dick right now. Literally.” You could hear him turning away slightly from the phone, praising, “Yes, darling, you’re doing such a great job. Close your mouth around the tip for Daddy? Mmm, yeah, just like that.” He returned to his phone. “You’re still there?”

“Only physically.” If you weren’t too tired, you would’ve made a thorough plan on how to dump his dead body in the sewer. “Why are you calling again?”

“I need you to run to the store and grab me some condoms.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jean.”

“Is that the way to speak to your employer?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You gotta be fucking kidding me, Mr. Kirstein.”

“Yeah, ah, that’s more like it,” he moaned. You frowned, vomit rising to your throat when Jean quickly added, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh, thank God. Never been so scared in my life before.”

“I don’t even know if you’re amusing or annoying.”

“Well, I do have my charm.”

You could imagine him rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m gonna need two condoms. No, three. Actually, four, you can’t be too careful. You know what, why don’t you just grab me a dozen of those. Oh, also, try different flavors too. They dig it.”

“They?”

“Yeah, I got another one coming over in about ten min—Hey, there you are! You’re early. Wait, baby girl, Daddy’s on the phone. Why don’t you get yourself all ready and wet for me, yeah?” The seduction and thrill in his voice returned to his previous grumble when he spoke to you. “You’re still there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I am. Feel like my soul just left my body.”

“You can do that after you get my condoms. You know which one to buy, right?”

“Glyde Slimfit? Tiny condom for tiny dick?”

“For your boyfriend, maybe,” he sneered. “No, darling. Durex XXL.”

“Bullshit.” You snorted loudly. “What are you, a horse? There’s no way you have a cock that huge.”

“Would you like to see for yourself, Sweetheart?”

“Jesus—” You ended the call, so tempted at throwing your phone against the wall but you remembered that you were broke. The digital clock on your nightstand showed it was 02.24 am, and the building they were staying in was fifteen minutes drive away from your apartment, but that was not the problem. How did the line, “And just, you know, do what they ask you to do,” turn into you, a single girl who hadn’t had sex in such a long time, running to Seven Eleven to buy a dozen of extra-large condoms at two in the morning?

So that was Devil Incarnate number 2. Let’s go to Devil Incarnate number 1.

Within the first week of working, you soon realized that Eren liked to call you with the most random nicknames he could come up with, and it’d always differ from time to time. If he had something sweet during breakfast, he’d call you Pancake or Muffin. If he had seen a bird flying near his window that day, he’d call you Tweety. He’d called you Fluffy during your fifth day of work, and you thought he was referring to your hair—you did style it that way that day. But when you asked him about it, he just scoffed and said, “No. I just thought you look like my dog. Her name’s Fluffy.”

“Oh, so you own a Shih Tzu?”

“No. A pug.”

Armin wasn’t kidding when he told you Eren had severe mood swings. He could be cold and bitter in the morning, and all bright and smiley by lunch. But happy Eren did not always mean pleasant-to-be-around Eren, you learned. When he was stressed out, he'd always turn into his broody-vampire mode, just basically seething and glaring at everyone around him. You literally could just breathe a little louder than usual and he would tell you to shut the fuck up, people in China could hear you. But as Armin said, you had to get used to it and you did. You had the patience of a saint, it turned out. What you couldn’t get used to was when he was happy.

Because happy Eren meant flirty Eren and flirty Eren meant danger.

It wasn’t like you were attracted to bad boys—or what’s the term people use these days? Fuck boys? Anyway, no, you were twenty-one years old. You were a mature woman. You weren’t looking for a boyfriend; you wanted to find someone you could settle down with. But when Eren showed up out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and landing his chin on your shoulder as he whispered, “Hey, Muffin,” right next to your fucking ear, what the hell were you supposed to do?

Not blushing, that was for sure. “Please don’t touch me, ” you uttered, keeping your voice—and your everything else—composed.

This wasn’t the first time he flirted with you but it was the first time he touched you. A month had passed and he had never even shaken your hand once—not even during your first meeting. And then here he was, embracing you from behind like a boyfriend you hadn’t had for months. You couldn’t deny the way your heart was racing, but at least you kept your face controlled.

“Hmm…” He purred. His husky voice was so pleasing to hear, not that you would admit it out loud. “Why not?”

“Because we’re in public and this is highly inappropriate.” Saying the word public might be an exaggeration as there were only two of you in the dressing room at the moment. The door was open, though, so if anyone was passing the hallway, they would notice. The other boys had left to wait near the backstage, doing a final check on their microphones before the show started.

“So, you’re saying it’s okay to do this,” he hugged you just a little bit tighter. “If we were alone?”

“Keep your hands off me or I swear to God, I’ll punch your pretty face.”

“Ah, so you think I’m pretty. Why am I not surprised?”

You really did throw a punch. He was just fast enough to dodge it. Eren giggled, breaking away from you. At this point, he was well-adjusted to the snarkiness in your attitude, or your little—but deadly—punches. He moved to lean his back against the wall, observing you with natural temptation in his eyes, hands buried in the pocket of his pants. He was dressed handsomely in his stage outfit. They were doing a James Bond concept for their new comeback single, so he no longer had to wear revealing clothes on the stage at least for a month from now. But somehow, the sight of him wearing a three-piece black suit and matching leather gloves, made you feel even more… arou—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself. “Why aren’t you backstage?”

“I was but then I noticed you weren’t there. So, I came here to check on you.” He tilted up his chin, smirking. “Wouldn’t want my favorite assistant to get hurt. Or seduced by another man.”

“Hmm, how very chivalrous of you,” you muttered blankly, keeping yourself busy with your phone. It wasn't just a way to avoid him, though. You had to learn their schedules for the rest of the week to avoid making mistakes. “Well, Mr. Jaeger, I can assure you that no one in this building would find me attractive so you can run along and return to the stage now. You need to perform in twenty minutes.” You sighed wearily when you realized that you hadn’t picked up their outfits for tomorrow’s photoshoot. “I need to make a call.” You made your way to the door, about to exit the room when Eren clamped his fingers around your wrist, stopping you.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“When you said no man would find you attractive, I think you’re wrong.” His lips twitched up in a delicate smile, and he seemed so innocent, like a little boy facing his first crush. “I think you’re smart. You’re adorably annoying and annoyingly adorable at the same time.” When he chuckled, it sounded sheepish. His hand slid down from your wrist to your fingers, gently playing with them with his own. He watched the way they brushed, his face was unguarded. “And I think you’re beautiful.” He looked up at you from behind his bangs. “Especially your eyes, they’re… They’re breathtaking.”

You swallowed. Okay, what the fuck is going on? “That is the most cliche pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

He tipped his head cutely to the side. “I was just being honest, though?”

Your eyes glanced briefly at the part where your skin touched his. You had become way more conscious of it than you were supposed to. You exhaled heavily. “What did I say about keeping your hands away from me?”

“Listen, I want to apologize,” he voiced, sounding unfamiliarly solemn. “For the way I’ve been behaving these last few weeks. I’ve been… I haven’t been in a very good mood lately.”

“Yeah.” You noticed how he still hadn’t let you go, but you let him be. “You've got the emotional range of a pregnant woman. No offense to any preggos out there.”

He laughed quietly, slowly releasing his hold from you. He seemed… pensive. Uncertain. Distraught. “Is something the matter?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your skin right at the part where he touched you before.

Eren didn’t reply right away, contemplating his answers. “Do you want to, um…” He rubbed his nape, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know, like, go somewhere together tonight? We can go get some coffee or something.”

“And I have to stand right next to you as you make the world’s most vexing order at Starbucks? No, thanks.”

“Hey, come on.” He pouted, batting his eyelashes at you. Eren took a step forward and you moved back in response, stopping only when you had your backside pressed against the wall. “I’m trying to make it up to you here,” he said, taking another stride until his body was standing only an arms reach away from you. “Can you at least give me a chance?” He was going with that so-called puppy look. You knew its power and you would not let yourself succumb to it.

You averted your gaze. “Actually, now that I thought about it,” you replied, “It would’ve been less embarrassing to stand next to you as you tell them your order compared to having me tell them your order.”

He grinned, his crooked teeth showing. “So, is that a yes?”

“No.” You snorted, but who were you kidding? “I mean, yes. Whatever. I’ll swing by your building at seven. I have to give you your outfits for tomorrow anyway.”

“Perfect.” He leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. “I’ll see you at seven, Muffin.”

When he left, taking hasty steps as he headed toward backstage, you found yourself staring at his back. He tossed you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he realized you were staring and you felt your cheeks burn.

Fuck.

***

Okay, so remember when Eren asked you to “get some coffees” to “make it up to you” six hours ago? That was bullshit.

“I think we’re cool,” he told you, sitting right next to you in the car, checking on his surroundings using the rearview mirror. He wore his hair down, wearing all black from head to toe in an attempt to not stick out like a sore thumb. “Seems like we’re not being followed.”

You were perched on your driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, feeling absolutely humiliated. “Jaeger.”

“Yeah, Bunny?”

“Bunny?”

“What, it’s the year of the rabbit.”

You punched him hard on the shoulder. Once, twice, three times until he groaned and caught your fist with one hand. “Hey, easy on the hands there. I’m not a punching bag!”

“You’re a trash bag, that’s what you are!” You beat him again with your other hand, right on his chest. “I can’t believe you tricked me into driving you to a bar so you can just hook up with some chick!”

“Bunny,” he chortled, seemingly having the time of his life, that asshole. “You didn’t think I was actually asking you on a date, did you?”

Yeah, okay, that sounds fair. It was all your fault. See, this? This is the power of his puppy eyes. “You’re a dick.”

“A dick who’s about to dick a pretty chick.” He had the audacity to throw a wink at you. “I won’t be long, I promise. I’m not that evil.”

You scoffed loudly. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, I promise.” He landed a kiss on your knuckles before he released your hand. “I’ll behave tonight. For you.” You didn’t want to say it felt like your heart just skip a beat because you’d rather die than admit it, but yes, it certainly felt that way.

“Oh, shut up, Jaeger, you’re about to sleep with a girl on my watch. This thing you’re doing—this—” You gesticulated. “That smirk, those puppy eyes, and that little kiss you just did on my hand—none of them worked on me, okay? None.”

"Yeah, sure." He imitated your earlier response, only flirtatiously.

“Step out of my car. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Yes, I can. It's my car.”

“And what do you think the press is going to say when they find Eren Jaeger, the handsome lead dancer of AXIS, leaving a questionable pub at one in the morning, taking a cab alone?”

You stared back, blatantly judging him. “Did you seriously just call yourself handsome?”

“Am I wrong?”

Lord— “Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Forty-five.”

“Why are you increasing your—that is not how bargaining works!”

“Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll make a minute-long special video for your birthday,” he offered, followed shortly by that godforsaken smirk. “Think about it. You’ll get Eren Jaeger of AXIS congratulating you on your birthday. Think about the power you’re going to have over your friends.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, couldn't help but feel tempted. “You’re literally Lucifer.”

“Lucifer as in that DILF from the TV show Lucifer? Why, thank you.”

“Oh my God, just get out!” You shoved him away harshly by the shoulders. Cackling, Eren wore his black baseball cap and his mask, stepping out of your car with his hands sticking inside the pockets of his jacket. “Thirty minutes, Jaeger!”

“See you in fifty, Bunny.”

***

You waited for a whole. damn. hour.

Funny how despite all of that bargaining you did, you still waited for him inside your car at two in the morning, parked on the side of the road in front of a sleazy bar called Swanky Bubbles. But you know what was funnier? The fact that you had to barge in inside this sleazy bar (which literally smelled like sex, smoke, and—oh my God, is that a used condom on the table?!), wearing your favorite red dress and slingback heels (you still couldn’t believe you thought you were going on a romantic date with this fleabag. Have you been single for so long that you became that desperate?), and went to the men’s bathroom (because if he was going to fuck a girl, that would be the spot, right? Not that you’d ever done it or anything) only to find out:

“Ah, fuck, look at that dripping fucking cunt, you naughty little—”

Eren stopped mid-sentence, his green eyes were almost black when they met yours in the mirror. As expected, he was getting his dick wet. What you weren’t really expecting was the way he was fucking his girl from behind, her hands gripping tightly against the edge of the sink as she watched the way he thrust deep inside her through the mirror. Eren had his jeans hanging low on his hips, his belt unbuckled. His black shirt was pushed up, revealing a glimpse of six-pack abs—probably eight, how would you know, you never counted. You spotted his handprints on the girl’s ass, leaving angry red bruises on her milky skin. You could tell that he had been rough with her, which caused your thoughts to wander.

They both froze, the blonde girl’s face caught fire while Eren simply grinned. “Hey, Bunny,” he crooned. “Sorry, the bathroom’s occupied. I hope you’re not on the verge of doing number two.”

The fact that he could still run his mouth was beyond you. “Disappointed,” you told him, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. “But not surprised.”

The girl he was with tried to break away, but Eren took a hold of her wrist and pinned it behind her back. “Now, now, baby, I’m not finished with you yet,” he chuckled, his posture dominating. His voice was a mix between a sultry whisper and a growl. It was kind of… Hot.

Okay, you did not just think that.

Returning his gaze to the mirror, he smirked at you. “As you can see, I’m a little bit busy right now so I'd appreciate it if you just walk away. Unless you want to join us?”

“I gave you thirty minutes, Jaeger.”

“Aww, I thought we’d agreed that you’d wait for fifty.”

“IT’S ALREADY AN HOUR!” Great, now you were screaming at him. You needed to schedule a date with your therapist after this.

Eren sighed. “Look, as much as I enjoy being watched as I fuck, I can’t cum with you yapping your mouth. So, why don't you be a good girl and wait in the car, yeah? I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Fifteen.”

You couldn’t. You literally couldn’t handle him. Your head would explode.

You went back into your car and you waited. You made a mental note to erase your browsing history after this because, in the last fifteen minutes, all you had been doing was searching how to sneak into a top-security apartment to strangle a fucking brat in his sleep.

When Eren stepped out of the car, his face was full of bliss. You turned the engine but he didn’t climb inside right away. Instead, he placed both palms on the hood of your car, smirking at you from underneath his cap.

“So, Bunny, about that coffee—”

You tried to run him over.

***

“Hey, can you put some music on?” Jean said, sitting on the second row of the van, right next to Eren who was sleeping soundly with his arms folded on his chest, his chin tucked. “It’s too quiet here.”

You were driving them to a five-star hotel for their next photoshoot. Armin and Marco had different schedules for the day so they took a different route, leaving you to your own devices along with these two demons who apparently found it impossible to even give you a minute of peace to yourself. Well, at least Devil Incarnate #1 was asleep. Hopefully, forever.

“Go to sleep, Jean. We still have an hour to go.”

“You want me to nag about it for an hour? Because I’ll do it.”

You took a deep breath. “Your mother never loved you, did she?”

“Why, are you trying to make it up by loving me harder than you already are?”

“Fuck you.”

“Now, you know I won’t say no to that, but—” He sighed dramatically. “All you women just keep taking advantage of me and my body. Am I really too pretty for the world?”

Yeah, he was right. Better put on some music before I lose your mind. “There.” You told him, switching on the radio and listening to whatever the DJ was playing. “Now shut up and let me drive.”

“I want to hear Nicki Minaj.”

“Well, I want to hear silence, but we can’t always get what we want now, can we?”

“I have her whole album on my phone. Turn on the Bluetooth.”

“Jean, I’m fucking driving.”

“And not really good at it. Turn it on.”

“Lord—” Trying to keep your attention on the road, you reached out your hand blindly to swipe your fingers on the screen, switching on the Bluetooth. Jean chuckled to himself, mirroring his phone to the screen. You could see his wallpaper. It was a naked picture of a girl. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Sweetheart.”

Wait, now that you looked at it, it was a photo of the same person—a beautiful, Asian girl with a little scar on her right cheek—that you caught sucking on his dick before his concert a week ago. “You're still going out with Miss Sloppy? That's new.”

“Yeah, we’ve been going strong these days.” He went through his playlist, running his eyes from one track through another.

“And using her naked boobs as your wallpaper is a token of your appreciation, I suppose?”

“In the highest form.”

"You should've just given her flowers."

He snorted. "No one wants flowers these days, darling."

"I do," you told him and he spared you a glance. "Call me old school, but I think the traditional way of showing your love through flowers, or poems, or love songs—I think that's romantic." Jean simply remained silent, which made you feel uncomfortable since it felt like you just shared something personal you rarely shared with anyone else before.

The song played and you wished Jean would sing along to it so you didn't have to endure the silence—which was ironic considering how much you yearned for it a few minutes ago—but he didn’t. He didn’t even say a word when the song ended and another track played. Frowning, you took a glance of him through the rear-view mirror. You could see how Jean was leaning his back against his seat, his face turning toward the window. He was in a ruminative mood, which was the first time you had ever seen him in. His eyes had lost their usual puckish glow, growing vacant.

You called out his name, your voice unusually soothing that you were surprised with yourself. “You can take a nap if you want to. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I think it’s best to catch some rest.”

“Stop sounding like my mother,” he said, a little bit firmer than usual. Unlike Eren, Jean rarely snapped at you. His voice, though rough, was always melodious when he talked to you, as if he was flirting, even though you knew it was just his way to irk you up. He sounded a bit tense now, maybe even upset.

You paused, giving into silence and he noticed the tension that stretched in the air. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, keeping his eyes on the scenery outside his window. “I just…” He never finished.

There hadn’t been enough chances for you and Jean to know each other better. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to. You just thought it would make things awkward to suddenly converse about personal matters, especially when the only interaction you two had was him making fun of you on a daily basis. But seeing him looking so unsettled like this didn’t feel right. He seemed like he could use a friend.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

Jean knitted his eyebrows together. “What?”

“I’m asking you how you’re feeling.”

“Uh... Why?”

“Because you look like you’re about to cry and I don’t feel like having a grown-ass man crying in the backseat.” You rolled your eyes, but when your gazes met in the mirror, you could see him smiling a little to himself. You did the same, even grinning. “Look, I know we’ve been treating each other like shit—well,” you corrected yourself. “You treated me like shit. I was just trying to respond to you being a giant ass by—”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” He simpered. “Comforting other people?”

“Yeah," you chuckled awkwardly. "I don’t have that many friends.”

“Hmm, figured.” But his posture was more relaxed with no venom in his voice. “Well, at least you tried. It’s been a while since I heard someone asking me that question.”

You stole peeks at him through the mirror as you drove. There it was again. That weary, dispirited look on his face. “Is it hard being the leader? Or an idol in general?”

“Sometimes." He shrugged. "I mean, with more popularity coming your way, you’re bound to have your freedom taken away from you too. It's funny, isn't it? How you can have a thousand people cheering your name but at the same time, you feel like no one understands you. Feel like no one really cares about you. They just like the persona you show them on the stage. They don't give a fuck if you're an empty shell inside. And it makes you feel like you're…” He dawdled, unsure of what to say.

“Like you’re alone,” you finished for him. Jean blinked, his eyes drifting toward the mirror and you smiled softly at him when you locked gazes.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, long and heavy. Admitting it out loud felt like he had half the weight off his chest. “Like you’re alone.”

You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, swerving your car to the right. “Do you miss your mother?”

Jean was unfamiliar with the gentleness in your tone, but he liked it. “I do.”

“When was the last time you saw her? In person, I mean.”

“Three years ago.”

You almost hit the brakes a little too hard than intended. “Wow…” As you waited for the red light to turn green, you kept your gaze fixated on the mirror, examining his every expression. “Well, that sucks.”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah.”

“Is it because of your tight schedules?”

“Partially, yeah. But it was more because…” He clicked on his tongue. “She just didn’t want me to be in show business. She felt like I could’ve done so much better than just taking off my shirt on stage like a fucking stripper.” But there was no anger in his voice, only… disappointment, directed toward no one else but himself.

And you understood. Jean—the leader of AXIS who was always drenched in confidence whenever he took the stage—was insecure about his talent. In some ways, he felt like his body was all that was worthy of him. “Can I tell you a secret?” You asked him and he lifted his face. There was a slight curiosity buried underneath the dismal look in his eyes. Right before the light turned green, you tossed him a smile. “Eren is my bias in AXIS.”

He must have expected some heartwarming words to escape your mouth because he was visibly upset once your sentence rang through his ears. “Ah, yeah," he responded emotionlessly. "Not sure how that's supposed to make me feel better but good to know.”

"Who says I'm trying to make you feel better?"

He scrunched up his nose and you beamed back mischievously.

“Kidding. I’m not finished yet." You tried to ease the tension with a peal of airy laughter. “Well, to be fair, I don’t think I can call myself a fan because now I know how evil you guys are in real life,” Jean grunted at that. “But back when I didn’t know any better, I listened to your songs almost every day. I downloaded them illegally, true, but if I had the money, I would've bought your albums because you guys were that good. And I used my campus' free wi-fi to watch your performances every time I got the chance."

"Just how broke are you exactly?"

"Let's not talk about that." Jean's mood seemed to lighten at the way you retold your story. "I think I've watched you guys more times than I’d like to admit. You know how fangirls are.”

“Did you touch yourself while watching our fancams?” He sniggered.

“Congratulations, you just ruined our first heart-to-heart moment.” The glower you sent him was quickly reciprocated with a wink. “Anyway, as I said, Eren was my bias. I just thought he always looked amazing on stage. I still think so. No matter how big of an asshole he is, I’ve never seen someone having that much talent and passion when it comes to dancing. His expression, the way his body moves—it’s like he was born to dance, you know?”

“Thanks.”

You froze, eyes shooting upright to the mirror. Eren, who just thanked you with his voice heavy with sleep, turned to lay on his side. “I’m going back to sleep but don’t let that stop you from fangirling over me,” he mumbled and it took literally everything in your body to stop the blood from pooling in your face. You were about to say something smart—hopefully—when his soft snores echoed to your ears again.

This is so bad for my heart. “Anyway, umm—” You cleared your throat, trying to return your focus to Jean. “W-where was I?”

“Eren is your bias.”

Fuck. “Was,” you immediately corrected, ignoring the flames that bit your cheeks. “Was my bias, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that you, Jean, you were my bias wrecker.”

"The hell is a bias wrecker?"

"Someone who unexpectedly caught my attention and made me rethink my original bias."

It was then that his eyes lit up in surprise. “I... I was?”

“Yeah.” You didn't want to use the word cute to describe him but Jean was exactly that at the moment. “There were a lot of times when I saw your performances and I found myself looking at you the entire video. Hell, I think I even spent a good hour watching your fancams back in the days. Can you imagine? Me, actually looking for your videos on Youtube. Crazy, right?”

“No shit. Seriously?” He was almost like a child, the way he was so enthusiastic about it.

“Yeah. There’s something in the way you perform. Honestly, I didn’t even care if you took off your shirt or not. I even wondered why you had to do that so often. Like I get that you’re hot, but you are so much more than just your looks and your body, you know? I feel like even if you were dressed as a school teacher, people would've still found you captivating. At least, I would. Eren has all the moves but your charisma is on another level. You can literally just stand on the stage, and all eyes would turn to you. And if that’s not talent, then I don’t know what that is.”

Jean’s cheeks reddened in a beautiful shade of crimson. You caught a glimpse of it before he averted his gaze, awkwardly scratching his cheek with his index finger. It made you feel happy and sad at the same time. It seemed like there really hadn’t been a lot of people appreciating him for his talent.

Smiling, you kept yourself muted, letting him take a moment for the words to sink in. It was then that Eren groaned.

“Ugh, gross,” he said sluggishly. “Go back to talking about me again.”

Five seconds later, he went back to sleep.

“Is he always like that?” You asked Jean, your heart palpitating.

“Yeah. Annoying, isn’t he?”

“Not as much as you are.” But you shared smiles with him, his gaze softening when he met yours. Even without him forming the words, you could detect a sense of gratitude radiating from him. You were just as grateful. It made you feel content that you understood him a little better now. Maybe, by the end of this job, you two could actually become friends.

“Hey,” Jean called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to, uhh…” His voice wavered. You could see how his face changed from musing to frowning, to blushing before he finally gave up and said, “Never mind.”

“What?”

“I said, never mind.”

“What, you want us to grab some coffee together? Like on a date?”

He choked, ears turning pink. “N-no.”

He can’t lie to save his life, you thought in amusement. “Okay, Mr. Kirstein, whatever you say.”

Now that the atmosphere was not as heavy, you started listening to the song he was playing on speakers. That was when you noticed something.

“Bitch, this is Cardi B.”

“Aren’t they the same person?”

***

“Here you go, milady.” Armin handed you a bottle of iced strawberry milkshake; his smile was just as sweet and refreshing. With a white towel hanging around his shoulders, he took a seat on the hardwood flooring right next to you. His forehead was glistening with sweat, his shirt was also soaked with it. But the fact that this man still somehow smelled like Johnson’s baby powder was beyond you.

You were sitting cross-legged with your back leaning against the wall, waiting for the boys to finish their dance practice before you had to drive them back to their building. It was ten pm, your body was just as exhausted as theirs were, even when you hadn’t been dancing to the same track for two hours straight. But it was okay. Tomorrow was your day off. You just needed to grab some takeouts for the boys, drop them back to their flat, and then you could spend the rest of your day lounging in your bathtub with a glass of wine in hand, probably listening to Michael Bublé's Christmas album. This, of course, only happened in your imagination as you were so broke you couldn’t even afford a water heater, but a girl could dream, right?

“Well,” you sighed, thanking Armin for the drink. “I’ve only been thinking about murdering your teammates fourteen times this week. So that’s an improvement, I guess.”

“So, like, twice a day?”

“Yeah.”

“And it went down from…?”

“About one hundred and thirty-six times a day.”

“Yikes.” He chuckled, sipping on his sports drink.

Marco was absent from practice that day. He went with your aunt to do a radio interview to promote the new TV show he was in. It was his first acting gig and it was so cute the way he was so thrilled about it.

Jean was still caught up on another photoshoot. He was going to be on the cover of Men’s Health magazine, which would be out sometime early next month. And yes, you indeed told him that you didn’t care whether he was shirtless or not but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Of course, you cared. It would be stupid—and abnormal—not to.

Eren was still practicing the latest choreography, scrutinizing himself in the mirror as he followed his instructor’s steps, imitating his posture and movement. “He always works so hard,” Armin said, admiring him with a little smile of affection. “People always praise his talent, but it’s very rare to see them appreciating the blood and sweat he shed to get to this point. I’ve been friends with him since we were kids. He always worked himself to the limit. I often found him dancing alone in the studio till morning.” His sapphire eyes drooped in concern. “I feel bad that he has to learn much more complicated routines compared to the rest of us. I mean, he is our lead dancer so he has his solo stage, dance break, and everything but… I just feel like our company is working him too hard.”

You followed Armin’s gaze, landing your eyes on the shape of Eren’s biceps that somehow rippled every time he moved his arms. He was wearing a sleeveless white shirt and a pair of black track pants, his high-top sneakers creating squeaky sounds as they rubbed against the floor. The shirt was glued to his skin, the shape of his chiseled abdomen showing underneath the fabric. Eren took off his cap, running his fingers through his hair—his soft, soft hair that still looked fluffy even though his bangs were drenched with sweat—before he placed it back on. “The hell he’s so hot for,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You cleared your throat, loosening your collar. “I mean, yeah. I agree with you. Actually, I just wish the company will give you guys a break. All of you deserve it.” Armin thanked you with his eyes and that reminded you. “Oh, right, I haven’t gotten the chance to say thank you for the cheesecake you sent me. How did you know that green tea is my favorite flavor?”

“Huh?” He blinked, frowning in confusion before— “Oh! Oh yeah, right. Cheesecake. How could I forget about that?” He slapped himself on the forehead. “Yeah, that was, um—that was from me.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “If little Prince Arlert is lying to me, I don't know who else to believe.”

“Wha—I don’t—” He was sweating for an entirely different reason. When he gave up, he almost curled himself up in a ball. “Yeah, it wasn’t from me. I’m sorry, I lied.”

“Was it from Marco?”

“Uh…” His eyes were shaking. “Umm, yeah, sure.”

“Did you just lie to me again?”

He shuddered. “It wasn’t from Marco.”

Great, you were running out of options. Surely, it wasn’t from Devil Incarnate #1 and #2 seeing how they couldn’t even find the time to buy their own condoms. “Was it from my aunt? Seems very unlikely.”

“No. It was, uhh…” Armin darted his eyes away from yours, mumbling under his breath. He seemed to be in agony when he finally confessed with a grimace, “It was from Eren.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and he was so frightened, he almost jumped out of his skin. There was a reason why you called him Bambi. “Devil Incarnate number one?!”

“I’m legally not allowed to say,” he winced. “But, yeah, Devil Incarnate number one.”

“Why would—” you gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Oh, shit, what if it was poisonous? I just finished the whole cake this morning. What if it’s gonna give me explosive diarrhea or something—oh my God—”

At that point, Armin began to laugh. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just trying to apologize to you for acting like a douchebag?”

“Because—” You were speechless. After what Eren had done to you, there was no way he would suddenly be so kind and send you presents without any ulterior motive behind it. “Because… I don’t know, it’s just… It feels weird.”

“It feels weird that he’s nice?”

“Eren and the word nice do not belong together. Try to use the words narcissistic bitch, then I’ll agree with you.”

You were Armin's favorite entertainment. Almost everything you did and said never failed to paint a smile on his face. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

“But you were the one who told him about my favorite flavor, right?”

“Nope. I honestly thought strawberry was your favorite flavor.” He gestured toward the bottle in your hand. “Hence, the drink.”

“Oh…” You held the bottle close to your chest, grinning at him. “Well, this is my second favorite flavor.”

“Sure.” He bumped his shoulder playfully against yours and you did the same. Whenever you were with Armin, it felt like you were two best friends from high school watching a football game from the bleachers. "Wait, the red roses from last week," you recalled, your forehead creasing again. "Those weren't from the company, were they?"

He chuckled once. "Why did you think they were from the company?"

"I don't know, I just thought they were thanking me for working hard, that's all."

"You're cute."

"Hey, I worked my ass off for you guys."

Armin raised both hands in the air. "Never said you didn't."

You lightly punched him on the chest. "I can't believe Eren sent me flowers."

"Um, no, those were from Jean, actually."

Your heart, once again, dropped to your stomach. "What?!"

“Which I'm also legally not allowed to say!" Armin stood up in a hurry. "I gotta go practice some more. Talk to you later.” He left before you could snatch his hand to keep him in place, half-running to his previous spot.

“Armin, get back here!”

Clasping both hands to his ears, he shouted back with, “La la la, I can't hear you!”

***

Eren was in the middle of swallowing big gulps of mineral water when you tapped his shoulder. “Eren—”

“Jesus Christ—” Startled enough to have his heart in his throat, he pivoted on his heels and accidentally bumped his back against the vending machine. He gripped onto his plastic bottle too hard, spilling water all over the floor. “You scared me!” He exclaimed with one hand clutching onto his chest, his breathing labored. “Can’t you just show up like a normal person?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare your panties off, Princess.” You fake an accent, trying to make yourself sound even more obnoxious to his ears. “Shall I write a note for you next time? Give you a friendly warning before I normally walk up to you and normally call out your name like a normal person?”

He exhaled sharply. “You and your sarcasm.”

“You and your—” stupid, stupid washboard abs, “—ugly hair.”

And just like that, his mouth curved up in a smirk. “We both know that’s not true, Muffin.”

“Whatever.” You tilted up your chin, crossing your arms on your chest. “So, when are you planning to tell me that you sent me a cake yesterday?”

He raised his bottle to his lips, ready to take a sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Armin told me.”

He choked, spilling water to his shirt. “Damn it, Armin!” Eren hissed under his breath. With his usual scowl returning to his face, he tried to look unperturbed, even when his nostrils were flaring. “Well, you weren’t supposed to find out about that.”

“What was the point in giving me a cake if you didn't want me to know about it?”

“It’s just…” He dragged his gaze away, mumbling in a subdued tone, “It just makes me feel less guilty about it.”

“Speak louder, Jaeger. Who are you talking to—an ant?”

You were clearly testing on his patience and you loved it. He repeated his words, loud enough to be considered as a shout.

“Ah, okay.” You nodded, playing nonchalantly as usual. “I don’t know if this ever occurs to you, but saying the words I’m sorry would’ve been so much easier to do. And, it won’t cost you anything. Well, your dignity, probably, but you’ll get to keep your wallet.”

Eren flatly stared back. "The last time I apologized to you, you mocked me by saying I had the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"A pregnant woman," you corrected. "Oh yeah, right, you did that. Which was bullshit because then you asked me to come with you to a shady bar where I had to freeze my ass outside, waiting for some girl to finish giving you a sloppy toppy."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's summer. It was literally like forty degrees outside." When you opened your mouth to protest, Eren raised a finger in the air to stop you. You, of course, tried to bite it off. "Look, either way, I didn't want to apologize to you directly so I thought I could just send you a cake."

"But you sent it anonymously." You exaggerated a nod, mouth turning upside-down. "All right. No logic can be found there, but okay, man, whatever keeps you sleeping at night, I guess."

"Jesus—" The more he grew frustrated talking to you, the bigger the joy that swelled inside your chest. His jawlines and cheekbones were too sharp and masculine for him to be sporting a pout, but he still nailed it. "I did what I did because I know you’ll just make fun of me for it.”

True, that is true. “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

He searched your eyes, his jaw clenching as he contemplated. He was sure that you’d laugh at him but after what he did to you at the bar, he knew that he owed you a proper apology. Fuming and abashed, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine, you want to hear me say it? I’m sorry. There, satisfied?”

There was a moment where you tried to be a better person and keep the promise you made him. But then again, you weren’t that kind of girl so what did you do? You cackled.

“See!” He complained, almost whining, with the tips of his ears matching the shade of your lipstick. “You fucking laughed at me!”

“Sorry, it’s just—” You were tearing up, literally. Swiping a thumb over your lid, you tried to tone down your maniacal laughter into a grin. “God, you can be so adorable sometimes.”

And the line shocked you just as much as it shocked him. Adorable? You went with the word adorable? Out of all the things you could have said? This was Devil Incarnate #1 you were talking about. Adorable was for babies, or puppies—or Armin. Adorable was literally the last word you could use to describe him.

“I mean, you’re annoying as hell,” you quickly added. “But, yeah, adorable.” No need to clarify, you idiot, I think he got that the first time.

And there he was, standing before you with unblinking eyes. You wondered if you broke him—maybe he was a robot designed to piss off humanity, with a self-destruct option activated by the word adorable. You certainly hoped so, as that would give you a reason not to see his face ever again.

But then the robot spoke and the second he did, your fist wanted to make contact with his face again. It was just a natural reaction at this point. “So,” he crossed his arms, leaning one shoulder against the vending machine, showcasing that goddamn smirk as if he wasn't just blushing like a schoolgirl. “Is that the reason why I’m your bias?”

“Was my bias,” you rectified through clenched jaws. “And no, we’re not talking about this.” His grin almost reached his ears now. “Bring up this topic again and I will try to run you over with my car, I swear to God, I will.”

His smile slipped. “You did.”

“Yeah, well, just like that, but harder.”

He sighed, looking so weary, he had to rub his temple with his fingers. “So, did you like it?”

“Running you over with my car? Loved it.”

“I meant the cake.”

“Oh.” You giggled, mocking the way his nose flared in anger. “I’ve tasted better.” He’d already expected that answer but he rolled his eyes anyway. “But, umm…” You dawdled. Trying to vocalize your gratitude to him was as hard as acing your algebra test. “Thank you, I guess.”

He gave you a weird look, astonished but also judging the way you said it. Once he detected the genuineness behind it, a coy smile graced his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve called my mother and let her know that if I die within a few hours from now, she’ll know who’s responsible.”

“Will you ever stop yapping?”

“Will you ever stop being annoying?”

“It’s part of my charm, Muffin.”

“It’s part of mine too, Ren.” You mirrored his glare, but also the little smile that followed right after.

Despite your constant banter with him, the atmosphere was light, like a feeling that shrouded two friends having friendly arguments over a movie. “No, seriously,” you asked him softly this time, wanting him to be honest with you for once. “Why did you suddenly feel like you wanted to make it up to me?”

He pondered, seeming utterly conflicted between telling you the truth and losing his dignity in the process or lying about it even more. He knew the latter would only piss you off so with his eyes looking anywhere else but yours, he mumbled out, “I just—I realized that you weren’t…” It looked like it physically hurt him to say the words. “… as bad as I thought you would be.”

Now you couldn’t deny the slight jolt your heart did when you heard his line (which was dumb because this was Devil Incarnate #1 for God's sake). But it wasn’t just his words that did that to you, it was his tone, the expression on his face, his body language when he said it. Eren was being… sincere.

You stuck out your tongue, acting disgusted. “Why does it sound so gross coming out of your mouth?”

“Oh my God, you’re so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a female voice came to your hearing zone. Eren’s eyes widened and he pushed you against the wall, his bottle falling to the floor with a dull thud. Your chests were plastered against one another, warm skin meeting warmer one. He had both hands on the wall, placing each one on each side of your head, hiding both of your frames beside the vending machine.

“What are you doing—”

“Pretending to make out with you,” he said before he bent his head down. You could feel his breath on your neck, hear every time he inhaled your scent.

Two females were passing through the hallway, chattering as they walked past you. “Eww, gross, get a room already,” one of them muttered. “Come on, we should go.” They quickened their steps, their heels clicking as they took fast strides, heading toward the stairs.

Eren, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, murmured, "Hold still until they're gone." You knew he was referring to your pose, but you were also holding your breath. Once their voices turned faint, he slightly widened the gap. He still had one hand propping himself against the wall, his other one trapping your jaw underneath his lean fingers. You could feel his breath fanning your lips, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours. And you wondered whether you wished he had distanced himself further or leaned even closer.

He smelled like sweat, as expected, but underneath that, you could also smell him—pelargonium, warm cinnamon, and cloves. It might just be his perfume but— “Sorry,” he expressed, a bit timidly, “I don’t wear perfume for practice. I must smell like sweat, huh?”

So you’re telling me this is your natural scent?! “Yeah," you snorted. "You stink. Remind me why are we in this position again?”

“Psychotic ex-girlfriend,” he casually explained as if your faces weren’t hanging two inches away from each other. “Just didn’t feel like being spat on again.”

You were both talking in whispers. “I thought…” There was this tension surrounding you, heavy but not displeasing. Suffocating in the best way. “You don’t date.”

When he chuckled, you could almost feel the vibrations on your skin. His fingertips felt scorching and yet delicate when they traced your jawline, gently guiding your face upward to meet his eyes. You expected to see a smirk, but what he gave you was a light, mysterious smile that pricked on your curiosity. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

You almost shivered at the nickname. “Liar. She's probably just someone you had a quickie with before the show.”

Eren’s eyes turned half-lidded, gazing at you like he was appreciating a beautiful painting. “Maybe.” He glided his thumb over your lips, biting the corner of his lower one to resist the temptation. “What about you? Do you date?”

None of you bothered to keep your eyes on each other anymore. You just let them wander, tracing the shape of his mouth as he did yours with his. “I don’t have quickies with random men, that’s for sure.”

His lips bowed. “It’s literally just a yes or no question.”

“Well, I don’t—”

He kissed you, tentatively but firm. Your bodies were meshed, his hand framing your face but it only felt different when your lips moved against one another. He caught you off guard but it was as startling as the fact that you felt disappointed when he broke away.

“You…” You wetted your lip, and he almost groaned at the sight of your tongue peeking out, wanting to have it tangled around his. “You just kissed me…”

The desire in his eyes matched the one that rose quickly in your chest. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I'm—" He cut you off again, only this time, he didn't just kiss you to have a taste. He did it to devour your lips. It was like something snapped within him when he saw the look in your eyes, and you were glad that you didn’t have to voice your thoughts out loud.

You were reaching out to grab him by the nape when he took a fistful of your hair. Two parted mouths consuming one another as if you were fighting for air. Your hands landed on his chest, contemplating between pushing him away or keeping him close as the voice inside your head kept telling you that it was a bad idea to keep this going. Eren didn’t give you the chance to decide, however, as he clamped his hands tightly around your wrists, pinning them against the wall.

"You gotta let me…” you tried to vocalize between heavy kisses, body arching to complete his like a perfect set of a puzzle. “…talk…”

Eren's brain was shut down, his body moving solely on instinct. On lust. He grunted against your mouth as a form of response, teeth gnawing at your supple flesh. He could taste the rest of your strawberry milkshake that coated your tongue, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. The zest of his kiss made your legs buckle, and you slid down the wall for only a few centimeters but he was quick to notice. Eren slipped his leg between yours, his thigh pressing against the zipper of your jeans, and your breath hitched in your throat. There was this little growl that erupted from the back of his throat—one that sounded so sensual—when he felt you nipping at his lower lip, teasing it between your teeth. “Fuck,” he breathed out but he swallowed the praise that was about to follow. The kiss was raw and bruising but the thrill was unlike any other. It was addicting as it was... dangerous.

“Eren!” Armin’s voice was like a ball smashing against the window, shattering whatever it was that clouded you and him. You both broke away, just right in time before the blonde boy stepped into the hallway, noticing your presence. “Oh, there you are! Your phone’s ringing. I think it’s our manager.”

“I’ll be there,” Eren said, noticeably flustered and you wondered why. It wasn’t like him to feel all over the place over a kiss. “I, uh, I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah, okay.” You played nonchalant, smoothening down your shirt. “Break a leg.”

It was awkward when he left, but it would’ve been more awkward if he stayed. So, he did, with his thoughts jumbled and his chest feeling like it was about to explode. Before he disappeared into the studio, he stepped back to catch one more look. “Hey, Muffin.”

You card your fingers through your hair—a messy piece of art designed by his hand. “What?”

He hesitated. The words were sitting heavily on his tongue but he couldn’t move the muscle. Giving up with a defeated sigh, he alternated with, “Break a leg is what you say to actors. You should’ve said merde.”

“Pretty sure merde is French for poop.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And how would you know?”

You smiled, one corner of your lips rising higher than the other. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

***

You and Eren didn’t share a word on your way back to their flat, probably because Armin was present. The blue-eyed boy felt the tension but he didn’t comment on it. Eren, for once, felt too indecisive to state out his thoughts. You stole glances at the brunette from the rear-view mirror, his attractive face illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. He was on the edge of his seat, both literally and figuratively and you wondered why. Surely, it was just a kiss?

When you stopped your van in front of their apartment building, Armin climbed out first, followed by Eren who seemed to have his body glued to his seat. You rolled down your window, keeping your engine running. “It’s my day off tomorrow so I won’t be around, but you can call me if you need anything, Bambi.”

“You won’t be around?” Armin sulked like a child. “Oh, man… I wish we could hang but I've got a variety show I need to film tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you again on Monday. Maybe we can take a short trip to the bookstore before your interview?”

He beamed. “You’re the best, honestly.” Bidding his farewell with a warm wave of his hand, the boy turned to the other man. “Come on, Eren, let’s go.”

“You go ahead. I need to talk to her.”

“O… kay…” Armin observed him with a deep furrow on his temple, noticing the tension but decided not to speak up. “All right, I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Bye, Bambi.” Exchanging smiles with you, Armin left, stepping inside the building and disappearing inside an elevator.

Eren shifted toward you, tautening his hold around the sling of his sports bag. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to shut down the engine first?”

“Why, would it take a while?” You smiled at him, acting as if you were drained to your bones—which was true, but not this much. “I’m a bit tired.”

His eyes darkened. Clearly, he did not approve of your attitude. “Fine, let’s cut to the chase then,” he bitterly countered. “Why did you kiss me back?”

“I didn’t.” The way you kept your smile intact throughout the conversation sparked his temper. “You kissed me. I just happened to let you do it.”

His eyes were almost sinister as they perceived you. "Seriously?”

You pouted, blinking your eyes cutely just to rile him up even more. “Was that not what happened?”

“You—” Vexation quickened his blood, painting angry red to his cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re playing hard to get after you stuck your tongue in my mouth!”

“Excuse me?” You retorted, feigning disbelief. “Why are you acting like I just took advantage of you? You kissed me without my permission.”

“Yeah, but—” He exhaled sharply, threading a hand through his hair. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s just pretend that you weren’t rubbing yourself against my thigh two hours ago.”

“Oh no, I’m devastated.” You sniggered. “Might cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t, Muffin.” You cast a wink and before he could say anything else, you stepped on your gas and drove away.

Through your window mirror, you could see him standing frozen on the pavement, scowling at you as if he could magically engulf you in flames by his stare. You chuckled to yourself.

Revenge had never tasted so sweet.

***

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you lamented against your phone, “You promised that I’d get my day off today. I’ve already told my friend that I'd go to her party!”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Your aunt was even whinier than you were. “I promise I’ll pay you for your time. I don’t have anyone else to ask for help, honey, I’m desperate!”

You took a glance at the digital clock sitting on your nightstand. It was almost eight-thirty pm, which meant you still had an hour to spare before the party started. You huffed in defeat, blowing out your cheeks. “Fine, but I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I promise. Look, I’ll even transfer the money to you right now.”

“Perfect. Give me the address then.”

It already took you almost an hour just to get into CMN’s building because of the traffic. Grumbling under your breath, you quickly fetched the invitation letters from the lobby—the same ones that your aunt told you to deliver to the boys. By boys, she meant Eren and Jean who were now staying in a five-star hotel where they would be attending a music award event tomorrow.

“Thirty-two minutes?!” You gasped, glowering at your GPS. You didn’t realize the hotel would be that far away. You were going to miss the party for sure. Oh, God, I was looking forward to it too. Clicking your tongue in irritation, you started your engine and drove away.

About fifty minutes later—damn traffic—you found yourself walking into the lobby of the Eastin Hotel. You weren’t sure you were going to get permission to go up to their room but after showing the receptionist your business card, they let you through.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing them again on my day off,” you groused, jabbing your finger against the doorbell of room 1802. You waited, your patience running thin as you logged back into your Instagram account. Your friends were already having fun at the pool, sipping margaritas and dancing to the upbeat music, while you were there, sweating and breathless from all the running, with anger bubbling up quickly on your chest.

Then, the door slid open.

“Well, hello, darling,” Jean cooed with his usual seductive smirk. “Eren, our room service is here. Think we got ourselves lucky tonight.”

“Shut it.” You pointed your finger at him. You were seething, and usually, you would hold back your anger, but with all the traffic, the sudden change in your plans, and his pesky attitude, you were way past your limit. “I am this close at murdering you with my bare hands, Jean Kirstein. I can’t believe you forgot to bring your invitation letter! That’s literally the only thing you have to bring!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.” He grinned, leaning his back against the doorframe. “You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.” You could feel his eyes wander your body, stopping momentarily to see how perfectly your black dress hugged your waist. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Because I was supposed to be at a party an hour ago.”

“You look nice.”

“You look disgusting. As always.” Which was a lie, obviously, because Jean was dressed so handsomely in a pair of black trousers and a white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing veiny arms and large palms. Knowing the boys’ schedule, you were sure that he and Eren were dressed in expensive suits before. It was only right to dress up when you had dinner together with the executives of CMN. Staying unfazed, however, you slapped his letter—and Eren’s—to his chest. “Here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go kill myself before you boys do.”

You rotated on your heels, about to stomp away when Jean took you by the wrist. “Or you can just stay?” He offered, his smile seemed a lot more innocent than it was twenty seconds ago. “We’re having some wine. You look like you could use a drink.”

Wine? The word echoed wonderfully in your ears. It had been a while since you had some (poor college students couldn’t drink wine for fun). Sighing, you took a peek at your phone screen. It was almost eleven pm. The party was still going on, of course, but it would take you another one-hour drive—even without traffic—and you didn’t really feel like going anymore.

“I hate you,” you muttered but you walked past him anyway. Jean chortled to himself, following after you as you stepped further into the suite.

As a broke college student who couldn’t even pay your rent on time, this suite you were in looked like a fucking castle—one that was futuristically designed, of course. It featured two separate bedrooms, with a living room that was probably bigger than your entire apartment. Plush sofas and a chaise longue were placed in front of a full-set home cinema system. The walls that separated the room with the balcony were fully made of glass, giving way to skyline views of the city.

“It isn’t bad, is it?” Jean questioned, walking past you with his hands tucked inside the pocket of his pants.

“Not bad at all,” you mumbled, still a little bit dazed with the scenery. You followed him further into the living room, marveling over the paintings that were plastered on the wall. You only stopped once you spotted Eren—the same Eren Jaeger who kissed you yesterday—still dressed perfectly in his black suit and a matching tie, lounging on the couch with his legs stretched out on the coffee table. His hair was tied up in a bun, nothing unusual, with a few of his baby hairs falling to his temple. He had a cigarette resting between his fingers and a phone in his other hand. There were two tall glasses nearby—both of them were half-empty—and a bottle of Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon. You weren’t knowledgeable when it came to winery, but you could tell that bottle cost more than your entire outfit including what was inside your purse.

Seeing him elevated your mood, knowing that you’d get to tease him again. “Hey, handsome.”

Eren, about to take a drag, drifted his eyes toward you. “Fuck,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth, the cigarette in his hand left forgotten. You wondered if he cursed because he was annoyed at your presence, but it seemed unlikely with the way he was gazing at you. Just like Jean, Eren sized you up and down, being even more blatant with his stare, undressing you with his eyes. And you thought Jean was obvious.

“Take a picture, baby,” you sneered at him. “It will last longer.”

The stupefied look quickly morphed into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“Delivering our letters,” Jean answered on your behalf, taking a seat right next to him. “Better not bring it up again if you don’t want to have your balls cut off.” The ash-brown-haired man snatched a cigarette from its package, placing it between his lips. “Where’s the lighter?”

“Somewhere on the couch.” Eren was still glaring at you, watching you take a seat on the other side of the sofa with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, keep staring at me like that,” you challenged him. “That would make me want to kiss you again.”

“Did something happen?” Jean asked before Eren could form his retort, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the brunette.

“Oh, Eren kissed me without permission and he’s butthurt because he thinks I took advantage of him.”

“What—I don’t—” Eren’s face caught fire before he hissed, “Oh, shut up.”

He’s so transparent, you giggled.

“I can’t find the lighter,” Jean complained, not really paying attention to your words. Eren groaned, his mood was all over the place because of you. Grabbing Jean by the collar, he closed the distance between their faces. The taller male staggered but he kept his body still, knowing what Eren was intending to do. While holding his own in his mouth, Jean touched the end of Eren’s lit cigarette to his. Then, he inhaled.

“There you go, buddy,” Eren said once his cigarette was lit properly, releasing his hold from him.

With a muffled, “Thanks,” Jean reclined on the couch, the fabric around his collar crumpled from Eren’s grip. He returned his gaze toward you. “Why are you sitting over there? Come here.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you uttered slyly, standing up from your seat. “I thought you guys were having a moment.”

Jean snorted. “He wishes.”

“Not as much as you do, Horseface.”

You held back your amusement from showing. Jean took you by the hand, guiding you to settle between them. The couch was probably big enough for eight people to sit on, but your shoulders were almost grazing theirs from how close they were to you. You didn’t mind.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be this close to each other in real life,” you commented, silently thanking Jean when he handed you a glass. He poured you some red wine, and as you took a sip, you were shortly impressed by the perfect balance between beautiful fruit, silky tannins, and a lingering finish. You took another big gulp and asked Jean for more. “I mean, you did a lot of fanservice together on stage, but I thought it was just a setup to make yourself more popular.”

“Well, there’s that too, of course.” To your surprise, Eren was the one who answered. You thought he would ignore your existence for the rest of the night, but that didn’t seem like the case. There was still a bitter undertone in his voice but his anger was dissipating. “Want a drag?” He raised his cigarette in the air.

With a smile, too innocent to be alluring, you curled your fingers around his wrist, bringing it closer to your face. Eren watched with hazy eyes, loving the way your lips closed seductively around the same spot he had his mouth on earlier. You inhaled, filling smoke into your lungs before you tilted up your chin and released it in the air. The column of your throat was exposed, allowing his gaze to shift down to your neckline that hung too low. It reveals enough of your cleavage to tease his eyes, but Eren was voracious for more.

It wasn’t just him who was staring. Jean's eyes lingered just as intensely, although he was focusing more on the way your dress rode up your thighs. It felt electrifying, to be heavily gazed at with lust like you were a prey ready to be ravished. You knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you made the first move, and then—

The doorbell rang, surprising all three of you at once. Jean let out a harsh breath. “Must be room service,” he muttered as he returned to his feet. When he left to unlock the door, you returned your attention to Eren.

You just had your lips parted, ready to form his name when he reached out a hand. His fingers skimmed over your cheek, a bit warmer than usual. You had expected him to kiss you and if he did, you wouldn’t be surprised. But he didn’t. He only swatted some loose strands from your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. It made you feel weird in such a pleasant way.

"You're still angry with me?" You queried with a juvenile smile breaking on your lips, peering into his eyes.

"What do you think?" His voice was dulcet, almost felt like it didn't belong to him. His eyes drifted down to your lips again, and you were reminded of the passion he burned on your skin a night ago. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

You grinned, sweet and innocent, just the way he liked it. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Jean returned to the living room with a trolley that was filled with ice buckets and a huge plate of blueberry pancakes. The sight made you stitch your eyebrows together. The ice buckets you could understand, but pancakes?

“What?” Eren shrugged when both you and Jean sent him a judging look. “I have midnight cravings, sue me.”

“Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” Jean mocked but a grin broke upon his lips when he snatched a bottle of whiskey from the bucket. Holding it in his hands, he showcased his signature smirk. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

***

Two hours, half a bottle of wine and one bottle of whiskey later, you found yourself resting your head on Eren’s lap, your legs on Jean’s. Eren’s suit has been shucked off, but he still kept his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Jean’s white shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, enough for you to admire his sculpted muscles if you wanted to.

You were chuckling at the stupid joke Jean was making about a princess and a horse. You didn’t get it. You just giggled because you caught Eren smiling at the joke, and he laughed because you laughed. Jean was so impressed with himself, he went to tell you another anecdote. None of you really cared. It just felt comforting hearing Jean’s voice and Eren’s little chuckles. You were just simply enjoying the moment.

That moment started to change, however, when the alcohol began to kick in. You were tipsy, but not that much. You were still aware of your surroundings, still aware of how Eren’s fingers were resting dangerously close to your breasts, still aware of how Jean’s calloused palms were sliding up and down your legs. The alcohol didn’t make you foolish, it just made you feel… brazen.

You knew what started it. It began with Eren’s hand framing the underpart of your jaw, his thumb tracing the shape of your mouth. His eyes drooped low, enchanted by the view. “What are you staring at, Muffin?” you teased him. He snorted at the nickname, but the alcohol fogged his thoughts, thick enough to make him frank.

“Your lips,” he answered, his thumb gliding from the corner of your mouth to stop in the middle.

“And what about my lips?” You slightly parted them, enough to let your breath caress his fingertip.

“They’re pretty.” He said it in a sigh as if it was a secret he’d been wanting to tell for so long. “Look even prettier like this.”

“Like what?” Eren swore he saw your eyes gleam a split second before you enveloped his thumb with your lips, cheeks hollowing to provide gentle suction before you twirled your tongue around the tip. Eren’s breath caught in his throat but he didn’t lay his emotions on the table. You released his finger with an obscene pop, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip to break the string of saliva. “Like that?”

Knowing the last time he kissed you, you pretended like it was only him who wanted it to happen, Eren didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. But, God, you were so pretty—so goddamn alluring, you left him weak. So he lowered his head, and you permitted him to pull your face toward his, letting his lips consume yours again.

Jean, who had been playing with his phone, froze at the sight. But when you split away from the kiss, your lips glistening with Eren’s spit, you invited him over with a sultry smile. “There's room for one more if you want.”

Then everything went so fast, it felt like a blur.

Your body was perched on the couch, trapped between the two. Eren brought a blueberry to your lips and you caught it between your front teeth. He leaned in to close the bridge between your mouths, his expert tongue curling around yours, thieving the fruit and your breath away at the same time. You felt Jean’s fingers pressed against your jawline, turning you over to him so you could taste the rest of the whipped cream that blanketed his lips.

“You’re a goddamn beauty,” Jean breathed, placing a wet kiss on your nape.

“Your lips taste fucking amazing,” Eren groaned, a moment before your tongues danced.

They were giving you all the attention, dousing you with all the compliments you deserve. Every touch made you feel wanted. Every kiss was a form of desire. And they drowned you in it. In rapture. In ecstasy.

Eren snatched the bottle of wine from the table, too drunk to care about using glass. He took a few drinks, red wine dripping to his chin, staining the collar of his shirt that was now unbuttoned to his chest. With Jean’s lips still sucking bruises on your neck, you twirled Eren’s tie around your hand, tugging it slightly to return his attention to you. “I want some,” you told him and he reciprocated with a smirk.

Instead of handing the bottle over to you, Eren took another sip and kissed you roughly. His strong hand held you by your jaw, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth, forcing it open. You obeyed, drinking the wine directly from his mouth.

Jean’s lips peppered kisses down your spine, his hand settled on your breast, gently massaging it before he squeezed you a little harder. You whimpered in pleasure against Eren’s mouth, both from the sensation of Jean’s touches and the way the brunette’s tongue was flicking over yours. Eren licked a stripe up from your chin to your lips, wiping the rest of the wine that dribbled down your skin. “How did it taste?” He asked you, loving the way your tongue peeked out to trace your lip.

You purred when he smooched you again, a bit lazily this time, which made it feel even more sensual. “You mean the wine?” You closed your eyes, choosing to focus solely on the little sounds he made as he suckled on your earlobe. “Or you?” Eren’s mouth was pressing hotly against your neck, and you were sure he was going to leave bruises but you didn’t care.

It was Jean who spoke. “What about me?” His lips were thinner than Eren’s, softer too. He kissed you with a hint of romance, which served as a fresh change to Eren’s burning passion. You moaned against his mouth and Jean took the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth.

“You kiss by the book, Kirstein,” you praised breathily as he nipped on your lower lip. You could feel his mouth curve into a smile, deepening the kiss with his soft moan painting the little space between you.

Eren was jealous, you could tell with the way he suddenly grabbed you by the chin, almost growling when your mouths collided. Jean was a little bit more mature than he was, letting him steal your kiss but it didn’t mean that he was patient. He worked on your zipped, tugging it down, while Eren slipped his hand between your legs. You could feel the material of your dress slipping off your shoulders, Eren’s tongue delving inside your clavicle, Jean’s fingers playing with the hook of your bra.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Eren whispered, stroking two fingers against your lips and when you parted them, he pressed his digits flat on your tongue.

Jean’s raspy groan was right next to your ear. “I want to taste your cunt.”

You shut your lids, your blood boiling under your skin. Fingers were rubbing against your lingerie, and hands were placed on your thighs to spread your legs wide open. Jean tore your bra away, tossing it over his shoulder. He suddenly lifted you by the waist, laying you down on the round marble table.

“Is this your idea of fun?” You teased him when he took off your dress, throwing it haphazardly on the floor.

“What, is this not fun for you?” Jean pushed your legs forward, keeping his palms at the back of your thighs as he rubbed himself against your clothed heat. You could feel him, could feel how huge he was, throbbing cock aching to be released from its confinement. The friction he gave you stole your attention away that when Eren suddenly moved to the other side of the table, his palm pressing against the underside of your chin to lift your face, you gasped against his mouth.

Eren kissed you upside down, giving you a different sensation and leaving you dazed when he broke away. Looming tall above you, he let his fingers work on his tie. “You better not forget about me, baby girl,” he purred, yanking it away from his collar with one swift movement of his hand. He then toyed with the buttons of his shirt, his smirk was devilish. He knew you were watching him, lascivious eyes wanting to see more of his body. He could’ve torn his shirt open with one hand but he didn’t. He wanted to tease you. Wanted to make you suffer. “All this time pretending you don’t want me,” Eren sneered. “Who’s your daddy now?”

His palm hit your cheek, leaving a burning, tingling sensation on your skin. It was hard enough to toss your face to the side but barely enough to send pain coursing through your veins. It was only to tease, to slightly humiliate you, and it did its job. You’d always loved to find a little bit of pain in pleasure.

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek, lips curving upwards in a cocky smile. “You think you can control me, Daddy?”

“Let’s see about that.” You were both smiling into the kiss before you felt his tongue exploring your mouth, his nails raking up from your stomach to the front of your throat. You felt something sticky being dribbled onto your bare chest, trickling down to your navel.

“Something sweet for the sweetest girl,” Jean commented, impressed and satisfied as he smeared the maple syrup all over your skin. You could feel his mouth on your abdomen, tongue tracing along your hip bone, licking the substance off your skin.

Eren, keeping his feet on the ground, leaned forward to latch his mouth on your breast. You mewled in content, kissing the taut muscles of his abs, your hand moving past your head to cup his hardness that was straining against the silky fabric of his pants. “Fuck, baby,” Eren moaned, squeezing hard on your breast, sucking on your nipple none too gently. He was rougher than Jean, more ardent as if he wasn’t afraid to hurt you. He did the same thing to your other breast, the vibration of his grunts felt perilous on your sensitive skin.

Your body jolted when you felt Jean's tongue teasing over the fabric of your lingerie. Your thighs closed around his head in reflex but he spread them open again, keeping your legs pinned to the table with his hands. "Didn't I tell you, Sweetheart?" he murmured, softly kissing the inner parts of your thigh. "I want to taste you." His breath felt hot on your skin, but you shivered in response. He pushed your lingerie to the side, licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit. It had been so long since you had someone pleasuring you like this, that even a single flick of his tongue sent tremors all over your body.

Jean chuckled, loving your reaction just as much as he loved your taste. "Think I'll have you for dessert," he said, wet tongue swirling around your clit before he played it between his lips. “Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

“Wait,” you gasped out, fingers clawing against Eren's biceps. “Wait…”

They stopped, breaking away to give you space. “You all right?” Jean asked you from between your legs. He hadn’t gotten enough taste of you yet, but your consent was his priority.

Tossing him a reassuring smile, you told him to let you go for a minute. You returned to your feet, sliding your lingerie off your legs. Their eyes traversed down your body, enchanted by the way you swayed your hips, wondering how it would feel to have their nails sinking into your skin as they fucked you from behind.

You whirled around, your skin felt like it was on fire underneath the intensity of their gazes. “If we’re gonna do this,” you tempted them with seduction, both on your lips and in your eyes. “Let’s do this right.”

You took them both by their hands, leading the way to the master bedroom. You were their queen, stepping into your throne. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, you crossed your legs and rested your palms on the sheets as you leaned back.

“Boys,” you called. “Why don’t we start with you two sucking each other off?”

“You want us to do what?”

There. Now you’re all caught up.

***

Jean has a secret he hasn’t told you. Or anyone else for that matter. And the truth is…

Fuck, he tastes so good.

Eren’s lips are nothing like a girl’s. They don’t feel as soft, they don’t taste as sweet. But it’s precisely because they’re so different, that when their mouths clash, it feels ten times better. Jean doesn’t have to hold himself back. He doesn’t have to be careful or gentle. Eren kisses like he wants to tear him apart and he can kiss him back just as rough, just as demanding.

The brunette pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips. Jean sees the way his viridian eyes move back and forth, drifting from his eyes to his lips as if he’s trying to figure out why the fuck does this feel so good?—the same question that Jean has been asking himself. But that’s where he's wrong.

Because Eren already knows how good it feels to kiss boys. Or to fuck boys. What he doesn’t know—yet—is how good it would feel to have his cock hitting the back of Jean’s throat, and he can’t wait to find out. The shorter male wets his lips—they’re bruised and red, and if Jean kisses him again, just a tad harder, maybe they’ll look even prettier.

Jean is done denying himself. He’s done contradicting the fact that his eyes always lingered a little too long on Eren’s hips during dance practices. And he’s done—he’s so fucking done—pretending like those dirty thoughts he had about him at night don’t exist. He’s thought about him a lot, thought about how pretty Eren’s lips would look around his cock. Thought about those striking green eyes looking up at him as he fucks his mouth. Thought about how his cum would look so good on his sun-kissed skin. And he'd thought about all of that as he fucked his own fist, biting his lip to refrain Eren’s name from escaping his mouth.

“Fuck this.” Jean tugs him back by his key-shaped pendant, sharing grunts and groans when their teeth nip at each other’s lips. Eren’s fingers scratched against his nape, messing up his mullet like how Jean does with his bun. Their jaws clench with every movement, hairs being tugged harshly at the roots.

“You taste fucking disgusting, Jaeger,” Jean snarls before he sucks on his tongue.

Eren sinks his nails on his chest, painting angry half-moons on his skin. “You’re gonna make me vomit,” he counters but their kisses are more teeth than anything else, and if Eren can make him bleed, good.

Jean isn’t given enough time to think about anything else when the other man suddenly descends to his knees. The taller male tenses, his eyes shaking in anticipation. Eren pushes his trousers down to his mid-thighs, frees Jean’s cock, and lets it slap against his stomach. Eren glowers at the sight. He hates to admit just how fucking huge he is. He hates it even more that it only makes him want him better. “Relax, Horseface,” he says. “I’ve done this before.”

“What do you mean you’ve done—fuck—” Jean chokes the second Eren takes him into his mouth, his body slightly bending forward with his fingers fisting his bun. His mouth is warmer than he thought it would be, his teeth dangerously gliding against the pulsating vein on his cock. Ah, shit, Jean laments in his head, I’m so fucking turned on.

Giving in to his desire, he moves his hips, thrusting his cock inside Eren’s mouth. The shorter male growls back, jade eyes sending daggers to him. Eren places both hands on each side of Jean’s hips, holding him in place. He pulls away, Jean’s cock sliding heavily out of his mouth. “I get to suck your cock,” Eren lowly says, gripping tightly on his length, “But you don’t get to fuck my mouth. You got that?”

Jean swallows thickly. The dominating tone in Eren’s voice is something he hasn’t heard before. “Uh… Yeah.”

Eren bobs his head down again, trying to take as much as he can until Jean can feel his head hitting the back of his throat. He whimpers, his hold tensing around Eren’s hair, his thighs trembling.

You giggle at the sight. “You guys are turning me on.”

You step down the bed, taking a couple of strides to reach their spot. Jean’s eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust when your hand slides up from the middle of his chest to his shoulder. You play with the end of his hair that’s plastered against his nape, damp with sweat. “Does it feel good, Sweetheart?” You ask him, using the nickname he gave you. Your other hand goes down to slip between Eren’s strands, pushing his head forward to take more of Jean’s twitching member.

Eren lets out an involuntary moan, tears prickling on the corners of his eyes. “Mmph!” He chokes, gagging around his length.

“Ssshh,” you shush him down with a smile, stroking the back of his head. “Hold it in. You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Ren? I’m sure you can handle a cock in your mouth.” Eren breathes sharply through his nose, glaring at you but it only makes you smirk wider. “If you can make him cum, I’ll give you a reward.”

Eren breaks away, gasping between coughs. “I’m gonna make you cry after this.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” You fasten your hold around his locks, shoving his head forward and backward. Eren lets his jaw hang loose, tasting the saltiness of Jean’s pre-cum, the tip of his nose grazing the hairs that covered his pelvis.

Your tongue is parting Jean’s thin lips when the man shudders, “Fuck, fuck,” he gasps against your mouth. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum, baby,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth. “Cum in his mouth, I wanna see it. Wanna see him lap at your cock like a slut that he is.”

Eren snarls back but he has no other choice but to sit still with how tightly you’re holding him in his place. Tears mist his hazy eyes, and you wish Jean could hold it in just a little bit longer so you can see Eren cry on his cock. But this is good enough. If Jean can’t make him cry, you’ll do it yourself later.

Jean’s hips stutter when he cums, his jaw turning slack, a long, guttural moan escaping his throat. Eren breathes heavily from his nose, feeling his warm seeds filling his mouth but before he can do anything about it, you yank harshly on his hair, forcing him to face the ceilings. “Open up,” you command him, and he does, letting you take a good look at the thick cum that pools in his mouth. You giggle, satisfied by the sight. “Keep your mouth open for me.” You bend yourself forward, your face hovering above his. You spit into his mouth, startling him. Eren sinks his nails into his thighs, emerald eyes piercing yours as he thinks of ways to make you pay for what you did. Undaunted, you swipe two of your fingers on his chin to collect the cum that trickles down the skin. Jean, still dazed after his orgasm, moans when you shove your fingers inside his mouth, letting him get a taste of himself. Forcing Jean to suck on your fingers, you turn your head toward the boy who’s still waiting obediently on his knees. Smirking, you say, “Now, swallow.”

Eren keeps his eyes on you as he does, trying not to grimace because he knows you’re going to use it as another reason for you to ridicule him. Jean’s seeds leave a bitter aftertaste and he loathes it, but it’s okay. Eren will make Jean pay for that.

And you. He’s going to make you pay for that.

You’re about to land your fingers on his cheek when Eren harshly slaps your hand away. Returning to his feet, he grabs you by the neck, his palm pressing against the front of your throat, fingers curling against the sides. He kisses you roughly, hungrily, taking your breath away but you’re unsure if it’s solely because of his lips or his leans fingers that threaten to crush your windpipes. When he pulls away, your lips are parted in desperate need to refill the air in your lungs. Eren spits in your mouth, just like you did to him a minute ago, only harshly. “How do you like that?” He questions with a smirk.

You chuckle. “I love it, Daddy.” Because even if you don’t, you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of having his power over you.

Eren sweeps your feet off the floor, carrying you with one hand wrapped around your back as you tangle your legs around his waist. Right before he brings you over to the bed, you hook your fingers around Jean’s necklace, tugging him forward with you. Jean, with his legs still wobbling under his weight, nearly trips over his feet before he follows you both.

Eren throws your body onto the sheets, making you bounce once from how careless he’s being. “You’re gonna give me my reward, Sweetheart?” He asks, looking down at you with a degrading stare as he takes his leather belt out of the loops. He ties it around your throat, treating it as a leash. Yanking it forward, he forces you to sit upon the bed until you have your lips hovering a few inches below his. “Gonna be my fucking bitch for the night?”

Eren burns you with his gaze, with his kiss, with his fire. “I’ll be whatever you want, Daddy.”

“What will you offer me then?”

“Everything.” With a nudge of your head, Jean discards the rest of his clothes and joins you on the side of the bed. You tilt your head to the side as an invitation for Jean to praise your body. He eagerly latches his lips on the pulsating vein on your neck, giving kitten licks on the spot under your ear. “Do you want to fuck my mouth?” You ask him, spreading your legs and pushing the fabric of your lingerie to the side so Eren can take a good look at your protruding clit. “Or would Daddy like a taste?”

It’s fucking ridiculous just how much Eren wants you. You’re asking him this question with another man’s hands roaming your body as if you don’t care whether he exists in the room or not. Your lips might form the words that he wants to hear—that you are there to please him for the night—but the rest of your body expresses that Eren doesn’t own even the slightest part of you. God, it’s like the more you’re playing hard to get, the more he wants you. You give him the thrill he’s been looking for. Unlike other girls, you don’t succumb to him, and he’s running out of tricks trying to beat you into submission. Even when it’s obvious just how wet you are for him right now, your arrogant smirk never falters from your face.

“What?” You croon, every tone and gesture is seduction at its finest. You arch your back, making a lewd expression when Jean traps your nipple between his teeth. “Cat got your tongue, Daddy?”

Eren scoffs. “You want me to eat you out?”

“Only if Daddy wants to.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Eren slaps his hand against your cunt, making you giggle with your legs closing in reflex.

“Don’t be so mean to me, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to fuck me.”

“Do you think I’m waiting for your permission?”

“Of course you are.” You run a tongue over your lower lip, knowing how much it drives him insane. “Cause you like me, don’t you, Ren? You’re not gonna hurt me, not in that way. Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.”

He grits his teeth behind tight lips. You’re a witch. You must be a goddamn witch to be playing with his mind like that.

“That’s right,” you snicker. “You just can’t wait to shut me up with your cock, can you? Though I don’t think you can even if you try.”

Eren snorts, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Jean,” he calls out and the other man lifts his head from the curve of your neck. “Give us a moment, will ya? I need to teach her a lesson.”

If he was still as turned on as he was a few minutes ago, Jean would’ve formed a protest. But with all the alcohol in his system, his cock still flaccid between his legs, he would actually be thankful to just lean back and watch the show. “She’s all yours.”

“Aaw,” you send a pout in Jean's direction. “You’re gonna leave me with him? Just like that? What a bummer.” You spin your face toward the green-eyed boy again, a naughty twinkle in your eyes. “His cock isn’t even as huge as yours.”

That flips the switch. “Come here,” Eren growls, forcefully pulling you to the edge of the bed by the belt that circles your neck. You’re giggling, squealing in anticipation. This is your game, and he’s making all of this too easy. Standing right next to the edge of the bed, Eren orders you to sit on your heels like the obedient little girl he wants you to behave. And for once, you do as he says, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

His hand finds his belt again, twisting it around his palm to guide your face closer to him. “Stick out your tongue.” You follow his words, loosening your jaw and Eren dips his head to suck on it before he encloses his lips around yours. “Now let’s see what that pretty fucking mouth can do.” His voice trickles smoothly like honey.

Eren skims his hand over your throat before he reaches up. His thumb glides along your lips while his other four hold you firmly by the jaw. You dart out your tongue, swirling it around his tip before you close your lips prettily around it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “Treat it like how you’re gonna treat my fucking cock.”

You moan around his thumb, sucking it a few times before you let it slide out of your mouth. Eren slaps you again, and you titter even when it stings. He plunges his third and fourth fingers into your mouth, pushing them as deep as he can until his knuckles graze your upper lip.

“Don’t choke.” He tilts up his chin haughtily. “Hold it in. You’re a big girl, aren’t you, baby?”

He’s throwing your words back at you. You almost laugh. This fucking bitch.

He’s thrusting his fingers inside your mouth so strongly, it’s almost impossible not to gag but you try your best not to. Your breathing rags when he has his other hand pulling on his belt again, its leather constricting around your throat.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eren says, smiling both coquettishly and condescendingly when he sees your eyes start to water. “You’re gonna cry, Sweetheart?”

He snatches his fingers away, a thick string of drool dripping down your chin. Your chest is heaving up and down as you cough, which makes Eren simper at the sight. You’re beginning to look wrecked with your lipstick smeared to your cheek and he loves it.

Not wanting to lose, you slide your hand down his chest to the bulge inside his pants. “Why don’t you close your damn mouth for a second, and use this on me instead?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

He unzips his pants, pushing them low enough until he can free himself. Eren, just like Jean, is above normal size. He might be an inch shorter than him, but he has more girth, more pretty veins on the side. It’s already leaking pre-cum from all your teasing, twitching when he feels your warm breath caressing his head. He skims his tip against your lips, tracing the shape of your conceited smile.

“Well, well, well,” you snicker, taking him in your hand and giving him slow, lazy pumps. “Guess you’re not as small as I thought you were.” You reward him with a kiss on his tip. “Still not as long as Jean’s though, which is disappointing.”

Eren has had enough. He can handle your teasing, he can handle the temptation in your gaze, but he can only do it for so long. Without warning, he flips you over, bringing you down until your spine is pressed flat against the sheets, your head dangling over the edge. He slaps the side of his cock against your mouth. “Let’s see if you can still use your mouth after this.” And he pushes in, sliding past your lips and teeth, aiming to hit the back of your throat without waiting for you to adjust. You gag around his length and he can see the way your throat is contracting. It’s beautiful. He doesn't have to imagine—he can vividly see where he is inside your mouth, how far he is down your throat.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess,” he warns, his tone filled with nothing but mockery. “You better watch your teeth.”

He thrusts forward, one hand still gripping tightly around the belt while his other one takes possession of your breast. You try to relax your jaw as much as you can, eyes shut close with a frown breaking on your temple. Your nose flares as you try to breathe, his testicles smacking against your face with every thrust. It’s the first time someone has ever face-fucked you upside down, and although it frightens you, it also sparks thrill on your skin.

Eren releases you only when he feels you tapping your hands against his thigh, unable to breathe. Coughing, you turn back to your stomach, panting frantically for air. He goes down to his knees, bringing two fingers under your chin to lift your face. Now that your faces are on the same level, he can see hot tears painting your eyes, smudging your mascara. His fingertips are delicate on your cheek, nothing like the way he moved his hips earlier. "You okay?" he asks.

Your vision is too blurry to see the genuinely concerned look on his face. Catching your breath, you try to keep your cocky demeanor in check. “That's all you got, Daddy?”

Your remark stuns him but then his eyes darken. Smiling too innocently to be real, Eren rises back to his feet. He tosses the rest of his clothes to the floor, pitching his voice a little louder when he says, "You're ready for more, Horseface?”

Of course, he is. Jean has been dying to take part in the game again. He's been watching you all the time, observing the way your body jerk with almost every thrust of Eren’s sinful hips. But Jean has always been the more mature one, hasn't he? Kinder, too. “Don’t you need to take a break?” He asks you, and Eren scoffs at the question. You answer with, “No, I don’t,” at the same time as he replies, “No, she doesn’t.”

And that settles it.

Seven minutes later, you have Jean lying underneath you with his cock pulsating deep inside you. You’re bouncing on his lap, your breasts mimicking the motion when they're not caught under Jean's hands. Eren is kneeling right beside his head, stuffing his mouth with his cock. You can feel Jean’s hold around your hips tighten when Eren slides his hand to the back of his skull, taking a handful of his ash-brown hair. “How do you like my cock in your mouth, Leader?” He husks. “Every time you open those pretty lips of yours all I can think about is making you gag around my cock.”

You can feel Jean jolting inside you. Mirroring the expression Eren has on his face, you ask the taller male a question. “Oh, so you like it?” You chime in with a lopsided smile. “You like being talked down like this, don’t you? How very surprising. The charismatic leader of AXIS likes to be degraded in bed.”

Jean blushes, about to move his face away but Eren keeps him still. “I knew those lips would look pretty around my dick," he breathes out, "Look at you taking it in like a fucking whore.” He emphasizes his last words with a string of hard thrusts, making Jean moan harder around his length. Eren throws his head back, drowning in bliss. “Oh, fuck—your mouth feels so good—wanna fill you up with my fucking cum, Jean.”

“What about me?” you shoot him an impish grin, garnering Eren’s attention back to you.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, you’ll get your turn,” he promises you with a wink. Wrapping the belt around his hand again, he pulls you close. You lean forward in reflex with your hands resting on Jean’s chest, lips meeting Eren’s halfway as he circles his other hand around your throat. “I’m gonna stuff your mouth with my cock again right after we’re finished with him.” Eren takes your lower lip between his teeth. “Gonna cum down your throat so hard, you’re gonna remember how I taste for weeks.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy.” You grind your hips, biting back a moan when Jean’s pelvis rubs against your clit. Your walls flutter around his cock, robbing a low groan from his throat.

Jean suddenly lifts you by your waist, raising you as high as he can in the air so he can slide himself out of you. Orgasm hits him like the storm and he reaches his high with thick white strings splattering all over his stomach. You blink in surprise, exchanging stares with Eren who is just as startled. Then you both laugh.

Releasing himself from Jean’s mouth, Eren chuckles, “That’s the second time you’ve cummed tonight, Horseface,” he mocks, perceiving the way Jean drapes his arm over his face, hoping that it would be enough to conceal his rosy cheeks.

“Shut up,” he hisses back, deeply mortified.

“What, you can’t even hold it in for ten minutes?” Eren taunts, trading giggles with you. “Have you ever satisfied your women in bed? Seems like to me you don't know how to fuck—”

“Oh my fucking God—” Jean abruptly sits on the bed, almost making you stumble off his lap. You’re still laughing quietly when you try to soothe him down with a kiss.

Eren swipes two fingers across Jean’s stomach, coating his pads with his essence. "Come on," he invites you. "It's only fair."

Rolling your eyes, you bring your face closer to his, darting out your tongue. Eren smears Jean's cum all over your lips and tongue but he smashes his lips against yours so he can share the taste. Jean watches with his face flushed, unprepared to see what's happening before him.

Eren, even though he was so harsh with him before, kneels behind the taller male and wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind.

“It’s okay, Horseface,” he whispers right next to his ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth. “Perhaps you just need some practice. Now sit tight and watch.” Eren’s eyes seem to glow as they catch yours. “I’m gonna teach you how to fuck your woman.”

“Am I your woman, Mr. Jaeger?” You tease him as he meets you in the middle of the bed. You share a kiss, a little too sweet than intended, but you know it’s only a taste of what’s coming.

“For the night.” Eren slides his hand between your legs, talented fingers playing with your clit. “You know, for the little devil that you are, you do have a pretty cunt.” You spread your thighs to let him probe his fingers over your entrance. He rubs his digits around your hole, coating them with your juices before he retracts his hand. Keeping his eyes on yours, he sucks on his fingers. He hums in content, sending shivers down your spine with how sensual he’s being. “Taste fucking sweet too.”

You’re at your limit. This sexual tension between you and him needs to be released. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been wanting him for much longer than you thought. Even way before you started this job. You clamp your fingers around his wrist, stopping him. “No more foreplay.”

His eyes glint in desire. “Then, say it. Say that you want me.”

You take a deep breath, your patience thinning. “I want you.”

The satisfaction in his smile has never been this crystal clear. “All right.” He kisses you softly, tongue slowly pushed in and plundered. “Let’s give him a show he won’t forget, shall we?”

But his next move is anything but soft. He turns you over, slamming your body down to the bed, and keeping your face pressed against the sheets as he rests the heel of his palm between your shoulder blades. He smacks your behind—once, twice—leaving burning handprints on your skin. “Ass in the air, baby girl.”

You hiss in both pain and excitement as you get into position. He’s being as rough as always as if the sweet kisses you just shared with him a few seconds ago were nothing but your imagination. You follow his order, lift your hips, and Eren positions himself behind you. He spits into his palm, lathering his cock before he lets his tip glide against your folds. “I think I’ve made you cry twice before.” He bends forward, murmuring the words against the skin that covers your spine. “But you keep denying that you didn’t.”

“Because that’s the truth,” you heckle him.

“Well then,” he pushes in, burying himself inside you right to the hilt. You almost mewl, taken aback by the friction. You can feel the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m just gonna have to fuck you hard until you sob out my name, aren’t I?”

When he starts to move, he leaves you gasping. He’s not as big as Jean but he stretches you and fills you in a way that makes you twist your fingers against the sheets. He pumps into you, furiously, groaning in rapture, and building on the shockwaves that already coursed through your body ever since your encounter with Jean. But Eren takes you higher, letting you experience something new—this emotional wrenching, this surge of pleasure and passion, all wrapped into one writhing mess of bodies slick with heat.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Have you ever been fucked this hard before? You don't think you have. If you had, you sure as hell would've remembered it.

Eren steals your hand away from holding you up on the bed. He pins your wrist against your spine, driving himself harder into you. He’s rubbing against your insides so perfectly, that even if he’s not hitting your G-spot just right, it feels like he is even with the slightest sway of his hips.

“That’s right, baby,” he chuckles between heavy breaths, hearing you keen. “That’s more like it.”

The fact that you still feel so fucking tight after taking Jean’s cock inside you makes him ferocious. He leans forward to sink his teeth in the juncture of your neck, making your muscles taut from the pain. With a filthy smile, Eren straightens his back, grabs your other hand, and pins them together behind your back. He keeps them that way, his hand large enough to hold your wrists together. You're whimpering with your forehead planted on the bed, but not for long.

Wanting to take a step further, Eren launches his other hand forward, finding home in your strands before he yanks harshly on the roots. “Ah—” Your eyes are fixated on the ceiling, your hands restrained against your back as Eren propels forward in one hard slam of his hips, hitting your deepest part. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe—a chance to do anything. He just keeps fucking you like he owns you. And maybe he does, for the night, at least.

You’re close. You’re so close, your body is shaking. “Eren—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he chuckles, picking up his pace. His thrust turns shallow but it’s precisely because of that, that you feel the knots inside your stomach tightening. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

“Ren, I’m gonna cum—”

“Yeah?” He breaks away, flipping you over to your back. You’re whining from the loss. Just a few more thrusts and you would’ve cummed all over his cock. But Eren knew that, that’s why he didn’t.

“I fucking hate you,” you mutter harshly, watching him glide his cock over your folds, slapping it against your clit. It’s so sensitive that your whole body jerk at the sensation.

Eren titters. “How do you like being edged, baby?”

“Eren—damn it—just fuck me.”

“Only if you beg.” His grin was devilish, which suited him so well. “You know how to beg, don’t you, baby girl?”

You almost snarl. He has you right where he wants you. If you had more patience, you would tease him a little more, giving him the taste of his own medicine. But it’s been over an hour—probably two or three, you've lost count—since you started touching each other and you’ve never felt your body aching this much for a release. “Please,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

“What was that, love?” He heard you. You know he did. He just wanted to see your dignity breaking to pieces.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum—ah!” Eren rams himself back in before you can finish, throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding your body in half. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing his digit vigorously around your sensitive nub. The stimulation is too much and you find yourself sobbing out his name, just like he wants you to.

"Eren, fuck, please, please, please, I want to cum."

It’s beautiful the way you moan it, better than anything he'd imagined, making him feel a thousand things at once. “Ah,” he rasps, releasing a breath as his half-lidded eyes gleam in satisfaction. “Finally.”

And he lets you cum on his cock, lets you clench and unclench your walls around him, lets you surrender in his arms. Your entire body convulses, not accustomed to the intensity of pleasure that hit you at once. Eren doesn’t stop—he won’t, not yet. Your mind reels from the overstimulation, your body still quivering.

You expect him to not care and continuously fuck you hard until he finds his own release. But Eren slows down his pace, sliding your legs down from his shoulders and letting them ensnare his waist. When you part your lips to him, he touches you with his tongue and he moans your name, softly like a soulmate would do. His lips, for the first time, feel real. Honest. Sweet.

Maybe it’s because you’re still drowning in delirium that your mind starts to build fantasies on its own. Because right now, you’re imagining that this would be how he would kiss you if you were his lover. The way your bodies complete each other, the way he whispers your name with his lips brushing against your ear, the way he calls you, "Beautiful. You're so beautiful. I want you to belong to me. Want to make you mine.”

Or maybe it's simply because you've just been denying yourself for so long. This attraction between you, this tension, and the electricity that zaps through your body—what if they all mean something more?

Eren keeps your mouths attached as he slowly regains his pace. “I’m close,” he grunts, sinking his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby, I want to cum inside you.”

That’s maybe why you find yourself sighing out his name, winding your arms around his shoulders, and taking the shell of his ears between your lips. “Then, do it. I want to feel you inside me, Eren. I want to feel all of you.”

And he does, his low groan painting the side of your neck, his fingers lacing around yours as he drags your hand over your head. He’s panting hard, his hips losing their rhythm. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, your free hand slipping between his strands, accidentally unfastening his hair tie as you card your fingers through them. His locks fall to frame his cheeks and he presses his temple against yours as he catches his breath. When your hand rests on his upper arm, you can feel the quivers that run through his muscles.

“Did it feel good?” You ask him, and for the first time that night—or perhaps, ever since you met him—your smile is heartfelt, glazed with affection, tender with adoration.

He returns it with his own lips curving upwards, just as sweet, just as soft. He kisses you once, languid and chaste. “It felt amazing. You?”

“Don’t get cocky, but…” You wind your arms around his neck, playing with the baby hair on his nape. “That’s probably one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.”

Eren beams back with a smile that is just as youthful as his face. “I’m glad.” He bends his head down, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “Hey, what if we go get—”

“Yo, asswipe!”

Jean’s voice strikes like thunder, snapping you both awake from whatever it was that shrouded you. You’ve completely forgotten that he was there, watching you the whole time.

Eren breaks away from you, turning his head over toward the man who’s leaning his back against the headboard, lounging. Jean throws his hand in the air. “What the fuck was that?”

The shorter male clears his throat. Maybe Jean can’t see it from where he is, but being this close to you, you can see the flush that blooms on Eren’s cheeks. “And that,” Eren says, trying his best to display his arrogant smirk but he’s not fooling anyone in the room. “—is how you fuck your women.”

“No,” Jean snorts. “That’s how you made sweet, sweet love to your girlfriend, you pretentious asshole.”

Your face bursts in flames. Eren probably does too. “Shut up, Jean, you want me to fuck you instead? Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I think I’ve had enough of your dick, thank you,” Jean grimaces, sticking out his tongue. His eyes drift toward you, frowning when he sees you unfastening the belt from around your throat, unwinding it in the air as you shift closer to him. “What are you doing?”

“Considering Eren is a bad teacher.” You’re much better than the brunette in concealing your emotions. “I’m thinking about teaching you a lesson myself.” Eren blinks in confusion before his realization sinks in. Then, he smiles. Wicked and smug.

Jean shudders, both in horror and excitement, as you spread the belt between your hands. Eren drapes his arm around your shoulder. Both of you look casual, but the question you’re asking is anything but.

“So how do you feel about being tied up, Leader?”

***

Smokes fill the air as you're lying down on the bed. Your body is still bare from head to toe, skin glistening with sweat. You're savoring the aftertaste of your orgasm, nestled between the two men with your bedcover draping over the bottom half of your bodies.

Eren, just like Jean, is lying on his back, his key-shaped pendant rests above his heart. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he passes it to you and lets you do the same. You mirror his action before you hand it over to Jean.

"So that was wild," Eren comments, breaking the silence.

Jean inhales around his cigar, blowing puffs of smoke to paint the air. “I've had wilder nights.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro, you cummed, like, four times.”

Jean's long arm stretches past you, smacking Eren hard on his chest. "Three!"

You giggle, the sound feels like music to their ears and a couple of seconds later, they share your laughter. “Man, I’m glad they hired you,” Jean says, staring fondly at you.

You scrunch your nose cutely at him. “You certainly didn’t think that way when we first met.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Great. I’m only gonna be your assistant for another week, though.”

“What?” It's Eren who replies, turning around to face you with his body props by his elbow. “Why?”

“Cause I’m tired of your shits." He pouts at your answer. Stifling a laugh, you retrieve the cigarette back from Jean's hand. “Come on now, Eren, we both know you aren’t a pleasure to work with." Jean snickers at your comment but you quickly silence him with, "Neither are you, Genius.”

"Not a pleasure?" Eren, despite his age and the attitude he showcased a few minutes ago, only pouts harder. “Didn’t I just make you cum, though? Like, four times?”

You wish you could correct him like Jean did but no, that's about right. "S-shut up."

When silence comes to sit like an old friend, the three of you are musing over the same thoughts in a slightly different way. “Well, then..." Jean pauses. "What’s gonna happen now?”

“Keep it between us and move on, what else?” You voice out, handing over the cigarette to the brunette. Eren sulks, even in a more childish way than Armin does. Somehow, after what happened, he becomes much more expressive. And you wonder if he had always been like this from the start but you hadn't been able to notice this side of him until now. “Now, now, boys," you say. "No need to look so upset. You’ll find another set of boobs tomorrow, I’m sure.”

"Yeah, okay," Jean snorts, brooding in his own way.

“A week,” Eren states, startling you both. “We still got a week, right? There’s still a lot amount of sex we can do until then.”

You're left dumbfounded before you titter, “That’s true, I guess. No strings attached?”

Eren, chewing on his lip, slides his hand underneath the cover, moving it closer to yours. You feel his pinky grazing tentatively against your own before you lay out your palm and he intertwines your fingers with his. Smiling sheepishly to himself, he says, "No strings attached."

You feel your heart warmed by the sight. Averting your gaze to see the other man, you toss him the same question. "What about you, Mr. Kirstein? Are you in?"

He dramatically sighs, shrugging. “Well, I mean, if you insist."

And when you laugh, Eren can taste it with his lips. When you drift away to sleep, Jean protects you with his arms.

And tomorrow...

Well, let's see what happens next.

***

This was long as fuck I'm so sorry, but hey HC time!

imagine idol ren dancing like this:

His outfits on the stage:

This video right here is literally how I imagine idol!ren to look like (the hair, the outfit, the way he dances, his expressions, his BODY ROLLS)

youtube

Idol!Jean's solo stage be like (is this magic mike LMAO):

youtube

The kind of fanservice EreJean do on stage:

Giving my biggest thanks and kisses to Sandra, Joli, Coi and Ben for reading this for me beforehand and giving me input/feedback as always. I love you girls ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @the-princess-button @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @claudevonstrukesblog @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult Thanks for reading, lovelies ❤️

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pickalilywrites · 3 years

Text

Third chapter is up ^^

------------------

How to Get a Job

EreJean. Zombie Detective AU.

12752 words.

Read on Ao3!

Waking up and finding out that he was a zombie is hands down the most surprising thing Eren has ever experienced after a good night’s sleep. (Although, according to Armin’s calculations, Eren was asleep for far longer than just one night. It was probably something closer to a year.) The second most surprising thing that has ever happened to Eren after waking up is cracking his eyes wide open after hearing a blood-curdling scream and, after flailing around in his (re: Jean’s) blankets and rolling off the couch and onto the floor with a loud thud, seeing Jean’s mother standing in the doorway looking as if she’s about to faint. Eren can only stare back at her, his jaw hanging slack until Jean’s bedroom door opens with a bang and the brunet stumbles out, eyes screwing shut at the sunlight flooding through the open door.

“What the fuck …?” Jean mumbles, clinging onto the door frame because he’s barely awake enough to keep himself upright. He rubs at his face and looks at the silhouette in his open door, eyes widening as he begins to wake up and recognize his mother. It’s like a slow-motion movie watching Jean’s face go from drowsy to confused to realization and, finally, horror as he slowly turns his head to where his mother is looking. His wide eyes rest on Eren, his mouth open as if he’s about to offer his mother an explanation he doesn’t have.

“Jean Kirstein!” cries Mrs. Kirstein, her voice shrill. Eren hadn’t heard her yell like that in a while. She typically used that voice whenever Jean was about to get an earful. It was a lot more common to hear her yell at Jean when he and Eren were younger and picking fights with each other, often requiring their mothers to come collect them in the office for disrupting the classroom. In later years, it was usually because Jean and Eren were getting up to some kind of trouble together, but Eren hasn’t heard her yell at Jean like that since at least high school.

It’s enough of a wake-up call for Eren to sit up and, after a quick hiss of “What the fuck are you still doing here?” from Jean, scramble towards the bathroom on all fours, keeping his head down as much as possible so that Mrs. Kirstein can’t see his face. After nearly slamming his head into the doorframe and successfully making it to the bathroom, Eren thinks he’s escaped without being recognized only to have his heart drop when he overhears Mrs. Kirstein ask, “Was that Eren Jaeger?” just as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. He really thought that they’d be able to keep his zombie secret safe for at least a few days, but they’ve barely made it 24 hours before someone else has stumbled onto their secret. They’re terrible at this.

Eren rests with his back against the bathroom door, sliding down onto the floor with a groan. He has a little hope that everything will turn out fine. After all, Mrs. Kirstein sounded like she was in shock as if she couldn’t believe that it could possibly be Eren Jaeger, one of her son’s childhood friend’s who had mysteriously disappeared for an entire year, sleeping on Jean’s couch. Jean could lie to his mom and tell her that she was mistaken. It couldn’t be Eren because nobody’s seen him since the night he disappeared on the mountain. He probably left for the city, went undercover, or fell off the face of the earth. That guy that she had just seen slink off to the bathroom was, despite having the same build and physical characteristics that Eren had, absolutely not Eren Jaeger and was just a random hookup from outside of town.

“That’s Eren Jaeger,” comes Jean's muffled answer from behind the door and Eren just groans even louder, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s disappointed with Jean’s answer. Stupid Jean and his stupid love for his mother that prevents him from lying to her even a little bit. Eren would text this to the group chat right now but he had forgotten Jean’s phone on the coffee table while he was scrambling to make his escape.

Eren doesn’t even have to crack open the bathroom door to know what’s going on. He can see it perfectly: Jean’s mother is standing by the door, her arms folded across her chest while her foot taps impatiently as she waits for Jean to explain further. Her mouth is set in that way it always is when she’s displeased with Jean and Jean is hanging his head, hands nervously held together behind his back.

“And tell me what Eren Jaeger, who Carla hasn’t seen in over a year, is doing in your apartment instead of telling his mother he’s come home?” Jean’s mother asks.

“He just … came back the other day. He was in really bad shape, Mom,” Jean says. He probably doesn’t realize the way he’s whining the way he does when he’s explaining things to his mother. It’s the same voice he used when he was trying to tell his mom why exactly he and Eren had been caught stealing snacks from the teacher’s lounge and selling them to their classmates. (“The snacks in the vending machines suck, Mom!”)

“Do you know how worried his mother is about him? She still cries about him every night,” Mrs. Kirstein snaps. She’s not even speaking to Eren, but her harsh tone still cuts against him and her words cause the zombie to wring his hands together, guilt beginning to bite away at his skin. “Have either of you even called his mother?”

“Well, no, not yet,” Jean mumbles. He’s probably scratching at the back of his neck, feet kicking at the carpet. “We’ll tell her soon. He just needs some … time.”

There’s an audible sigh from the other side of the door and even Eren winces. Mrs. Kirstein letting out a displeased sigh is never a good sign. Maybe he should go out there and help Jean. Eren stands up and is about to turn the handle of the bathroom door when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s all sickly pale skin, veins of blue and purple, and gross, watery eyes. He flinches involuntarily at his own reflection and sinks back onto the hard tile floor. No, it’d be better to just stay here. Going out there and giving Mrs. Kirstein a good look at him in this state would only make things worse.

“I know you’re trying to be a good friend, Jean, but keeping something like this from Carla … if I were in her shoes, I’d be completely heartbroken,” says Mrs. Kirstein. “Armin wouldn’t have done this. Annie wouldn’t have either, and neither would Reiner. Why would you lie for him like this?”

“Mom, I …” There’s silence on the other side and a feeling of dread begins to prickle across Eren’s skin. He knows Jean’s probably approaching his mom slowly, cautiously, and placing his hands on her shoulders. Jean’s looking into his mother’s eyes and opening his mouth to say something very, very stupid. Eren just knows. He can feel it in his bones. When you know someone as long as Eren has known Jean Kirstein, you just know these things.

“I’m in love with him.”

Eren sits up so suddenly that the back of his head smacks into the bathroom door with a large bang! Whimpering, he rubs at a spot on his head that’s currently throbbing. His hand doesn’t come away with any blood, but it still really fucking hurts.

“I just … seeing him at my apartment in the middle of the night in his state … It just made me want to protect him. He was really upset, Mom,” Jean continues, somehow able to go on without stumbling over his words. The more lies he spews out, the more Eren wants to bang his head against the wall. “I was just so focused on making sure he was okay, I wasn’t thinking of anything else.”

There’s another sigh from Mrs. Kistein, but it’s not disappointed, just tired.

“I promise that we’ll tell her soon, Mom, just … give us a little time,” says Jean.

Sitting in the bathroom, Eren sits with his head between his knees as he tries to remember how to breathe. This is terrible. There’s absolutely no way that Mrs. Kistein is going to believe anything Jean is saying because none of it makes any fucking sense. She’s going to throw open the bathroom door and drag Eren out by the hair to apologize to his mother for being such a bad son. Then she’s going to realize that something’s not quite right with him and see that Eren’s not just back, but he’s also a zombie and then he and Jean are going to get lectured for putting the entire town in such a dangerous situation by allowing a zombie to live here. (“I know he’s your friend, Jean, but this is incredibly dangerous and irresponsible!” Eren can imagine Mrs. Kirstein saying before she bludgeons her son’s childhood friend to death with a frying pan to get rid of the threat to humanity.) He’s not quite sure where this falls in the list of offenses that Jean and Eren have committed together throughout their youth, but he’s pretty sure it’s up there.

“... Alright,” Mrs. Kirstein says to Eren’s surprise. “But get it done as soon as possible, or else I’ll be the one telling Carla where her son is.”

Jean lets out a sigh of relief at the same time Eren does on the other side of the door. “Thanks, Mom,” Jean says. He’s probably hugging his mom right now, thanking her for being so understanding.

Eren doesn’t hear much more of the conversation; Mrs. Kirstein’s voice doesn’t pass through wood as easily when she’s not exasperatedly lecturing her son and Jean’s low tones are difficult to detect, especially when he’s speaking more calmly. When Mrs. Kirstein finally leaves (making sure to tell her son to eat all the food she’s made him and drop off the Tupperware when he’s done), Eren slowly inches out of the bathroom with a miserable expression on his face.

“I can’t believe you told your mom you were in love with me,” he sniffs.

“Oh, shut up,” Jean says with a roll of his eyes. He checks the contents of one of the Tupperware containers and nods appreciatively at the spätzle and rouladen sitting inside. “It’s better than telling her you’re a zombie, isn’t it?”

“Why couldn’t you have just told her that it wasn’t me?” Eren mumbles. He shuffles out of the bathroom, ruffling his messy bedhead with a frown. “You could have just said it was a random hookup.”

Jean shakes his head. “She knows you way too well. She even recognized you only after getting a glimpse. We’re lucky she didn’t get a good look at you though. I don’t know what I would have done if she realized you were a zombie,” Jean says as he starts putting the Tupperware in the fridge. One of the containers — the one that held the spätzle and rouladen — gets left behind, probably to serve as Jean’s breakfast. “Besides, I can’t lie to my mom. It’s just impossible.”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re such a momma’s boy,” the zombie mutters under his breath as he shuffles over to Jean’s dining table and slumps into one of the chairs. “Why does your mom have a key to your apartment anyway?”

“‘Cause I’m a momma’s boy,” Jean answers shamelessly. Years ago when he and Eren were still in grade school, Jean had punched Eren in the face for calling Jean the very same thing. The two of them ended up in the nurse’s office, Jean with a bloody nose and Eren with a black eye. Jean has since accepted the title without any shame in the following years. “She comes by in the middle of the week and on the weekends to drop off food. It worries her a little less to know that I’m eating her food every week and not just sticking my hand in a cereal box every time I need a meal.”

“Hm,” Eren hums.

He watches Jean for a moment, observing how the thin cotton of his friend’s shirt clings to his broad shoulders and wondering how much muscle Jean’s packed on since Eren last saw him, and then rubs at his face, hard. It’s way too early to be having these thoughts about Jean in the morning. He’s still rubbing at his eyes when he hears a soft clink and opens his eyes to find a plate of pork belly sitting in front of him, the cut of meat shining with grease. Back in college, Eren tried to avoid fat and sugar as much as he could, but all he can think about now is sinking his teeth into that juicy pork belly and feel that thin film of grease coat his lips.

“Eat up,” Jean says, gesturing at the plate of meat in front of Eren. Eren’s about to do just that when Jean tuts and shoots a warning glare at Eren. “With your silverware.”

“Ah.” Eren’s hands, raised in midair, clench into fists before unclenching and wrapping around the cold, metal utensils Jean had provided. He wants to say something about how using a fork and knife really detracts from the experience of eating meat, but he’s sure that Jean would only scoff and bring up the deal they had made yesterday. Eren just eats the pork, the meat extra chewy from the excess fat but still rich in flavor. Jean doesn’t say anything when Eren involuntarily lets out an obscene moan, just rolls his eyes.

Jean settles across the table from Eren with a freshly microwaved container of egg noodles and sausage. If Eren were human, he might have asked for a bite. The sausages — succulent strips of bacon, sweet onions sliced up, and tangy pickles all wrapped up in thin slices of beef and covered in a savory gravy — were one of Eren’s favorite dishes from the Kirstein household, but now Eren wrinkles his nose at the scent of it. It seems so dull compared to a raw slice of meat. He doesn’t know how he was able to stomach it when he was a human.

“We should probably let Armin and the others know,” Jean says with a mouth full of sausage. “It’s a little disadvantageous now that everyone in town is going to know you’re back, but it’s kind of inevitable with everything that just happened.”

Eren frowns as he cuts another chunk of pork belly. “We should probably message the group chat.”

“Mm, you’re right,” Jean hums. He helps himself to another spoonful of his breakfast before getting up to collect his phone. He taps away absentmindedly, notifying the members of the group chat about how their plans have hit something of a speedbump. When it’s sent, he looks up at Eren and asks, “Hey, do you think you can get a job here now that people are going to find out that you’re back?”

Eren almost chokes on his food. “You never said anything about that when you told me I could live here!” he coughs, pounding on his chest to get the lump of meat in his throat unstuck. He gets it down after a few swallows, but it still feels like there’s a lump in his throat. Maybe it’s just the guilt of freeloading off his friend. “You really want me to get a job?”

Jean just shrugs. “It’s expensive buying so much meat all the time,” he replies, but he returns to his phone. He types something else on it before slipping his phone in his back pocket and returns to his seat at the dining table. “We can figure it out later.”

Eren grumbles and returns to his pork belly. It doesn’t taste as good as he thought it was earlier. It just tastes weird and rubbery like a leather shoe. He shovels the rest of it in his mouth impatiently. It’s bad enough that Eren has to deal with being a zombie, but now he has to think about finding a job on top of that. Sometimes Eren wishes he had just stayed dead.

-------------------

The two meet with the rest of the Zombie Investigation Squad in the basement of Hanji’s bookshop during their lunch breaks. Eren had spent most of the morning skimming through the rest of the books that Armin had assigned him yesterday, although he didn’t get much out of it. In between books and articles, he mentally drafted an apology for his mother when he eventually saw her. He’s not sure how much help it would be. Eren probably wouldn’t be able to get a word out before his mother collapsed on the floor and started sobbing about what a terrible son he was for disappearing for an entire year without any note.

With a sigh, Eren slaps his notes on the table. They’re written on stray paper torn out from one of Jean’s sketchbooks. His messy scrawl is barely legible and the notes are probably insubstantial, especially compared to the thick binders of notes Annie and Armin have typed up, but it’s a lot better than what Jean brought.

“You didn’t even bring any of the books that you thought were helpful?” Annie asks with a raised eyebrow, but she sounds far from surprised. Jean was just as bad as Eren at writing reports.

“I … forgot them at home?” Jean says unconvincingly.

“You didn’t even crack them open, did you?” Reiner snickers. The blond dodges a swipe from Jean, who scowls at him.

“It’s fine. I covered Jean and Eren’s reading just in case,” Armin says distractedly as both Jean and Eren make indignant noises. He nibbles on one of the chocolate croissants that Jean had picked up from the café, not noticing the little flakes that are falling on his lap. The councilman flips through one of his notebooks and stops on a page with a lot of different colored lines looping everywhere, connecting different cutouts of sighted zombies and missing persons over the past year. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, Armin had stayed up the entire night making this. “It looks like none of the victims are connected but they’ve all shared physical characteristics listed on missing persons notices about tourists. Eren seems to be the only case of someone from town going missing and being turned into a zombie.”

“Lucky you, Eren,” says Reiner. “You’re the first person from our town to come back as a zombie!”

Eren only wrinkles his nose in response.

“I think we should stop looking at anything caused by disease,” Annie says and Armin nods in agreement. She plucks a donut from the bag in the center of the room and takes a generous bite, sugar coating her lips. Jean hadn’t said that the bag of donuts belonged to Annie, but he didn’t have to. The donuts always belonged to Annie and Annie only. “Disease seems a little too hard to control. Fungi and parasites seem a lot more likely. It’s stuff that someone can manage and use to reanimate people. I’m still having difficulty finding something that would cause zombification in a person though.”

Armin nods and jots something down in his notebook, taking notes as if this is a high school club and they have to submit meeting minutes at the end of the week. Eren’s still busy frowning at Armin when the councilman lifts his head up and asks the zombie, “Did you find anything interesting in your literature search?”

“Uh,” Eren says, mind drawing a blank. He tries to recall every smidge of information that he read earlier this morning on bokor and vodou traditions. There was an interesting story about a man that had claimed to be a zombie. Was his name Narcissus? It was an unusual name. Eren doesn’t remember if he bothered to write it down. “Um, I think there was this guy … mentioned something about being turned into a zombie? Something about being given a weird concoction. Narcissus or something, I think was his name.”

“Clairvius Narcisse,” Armin nods. Eren is surprised by his friend’s abundant knowledge on zombies until he remembers that Armin had read the same books he had last night, so he just feels kind of incompetent instead. Beside Eren, Armin clicks his pen and continues, “Yeah, I was looking into that. It might be that whoever turned you into a zombie is borrowing from the zombification rituals in Haitian vodou. I mean, they strangled you instead of using a concoction of drugs to kill you, but maybe they used a cocktail to bring you back to life?”

Eren wonders if Armin’s theory is any better than anything Annie had suggested. On one hand, it’s a lot more pleasant to think that his second life was because of an intricate mix of drugs instead of some kind of fungi or parasite fucking with his brain. On the other hand, the former would mean that some asshole is running around murdering people and intentionally bringing them back as zombies. At least Annie’s hypothesis brought forth the possibility that his zombification was an accident and that it was only a simple serial killer running around.

Reiner leans forward, blue eyes blinking curiously at Eren. “Right, your bruises. Can we get a look at them up close?” the schoolteacher asks, tugging at his own scarf. “It’d give us a better idea of the kind of hands we’re looking for.”

The zombie’s hands fly to his scarf, fingers hooked reluctantly around the soft wool. He was always shy about showing off his body ever since he became a zombie, but somehow letting his friends take a look at the bruises on his neck is even more embarrassing. “I’m not really sure how much it’ll help,” Eren mumbles, rubbing the scarf between his fingers. He looks up nervously at his friends who only watch him fidget in his seat. When Eren’s eyes land on Jean’s, the makeup artist gives Eren the subtlest nod of his head and the zombie feels himself relax just a little bit. Taking a deep breath, Eren pulls at the scarf and lets it slip off his neck and into his nap. He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on their faces when their eyes settle on the purple markings decorating his neck.

“Whoa,” he hears Armin breathe as Reiner gives a low whistle.

“Eren cracks open an eye and sees his friends, all of them except Jean, staring at him like he’s a rare specimen at the zoo. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hands twisting nervously at his scarf. “Are you guys done looking yet?”

Jean motions for Eren to put the scarf back on, which a thankful Eren does as quickly as possible. “The hands are a lot thicker than mine,” Jean says to the rest of the group. He holds out his hand, an artist’s hand, his fingers all nice and long and elegant.

“And whoever did it must have been strong,” Annie murmurs. She holds her hands out and wraps them around an imaginary throat. Her hands squeeze and Eren can’t help but feel shivers run down his spine. “I mean, they did knock Eren out beforehand, but depriving someone of oxygen long enough that they die takes a lot of hand strength.”

“Speaking from experience?” Reiner asks cheekily.

Annie flips him off without a glance.

The schoolteacher sits back in his seat and plays with the pen in front of him, rolling it back and forth on the wooden table. “So what are we going to do?” Reiner asks. “Just ask to hold everyone’s hand until we find someone with hands that are the same shape as the killer’s?”

“If only we could do that without arousing suspicion,” Armin sighs. He sits up, clearing his throat. “No, but we’re going to have to be very observant about people’s hands from now on. And their strength too, like Annie said, although that’s going to be harder to determine from a glance. Of course, it also helps that word is going to spread about Eren’s return.”

Eren’s about to apologize when he realizes what Armin’s said. “Wait, did you just say it was helpful that people are going to know I’m back?” he asks. Across the table, Jean is looking equally perplexed.

“Yeah. I mean, it would have been nice to keep it under wraps for a few more days so we could really plan this out, but if the murderer is around, they’ll definitely be more than surprised to see you,” Armin explains.

Annie is a little less optimistic. “Let’s just hope whoever killed you isn’t a good actor,” she says. Despite all the talk of zombies and murderers, Annie still manages to have the appetite for yet another powdered donut. Eren doesn’t know how she does it. His stomach is churning just thinking about a murderer running around such a friendly, quaint town like Shiganshina.

“We should have Eren close by at all times just in case the killer decides to strike again and get rid of the evidence,” Armin continues. He gestures at Eren, a.k.a. “the evidence.” Being referred to as such makes Eren feel a little weird, but the others don’t so much as bat an eye. “It’s a good thing Jean made it seem like he’s in love with Eren because then Eren doesn’t have to return home and live with his mom. That was really quick thinking, Jean. I don’t think I would have thought of that.” The others either moan or groan or giggle and Armin looks up, startled. Eyebrows furrowed, he asks, “What?”

“Can we not talk about that?” Jean mumbles as he rubs at his face, skin perfectly squishy and elastic at the same time. Eren really wants to pinch the man’s cheek, rip a piece right off, and pop it into his mouth like bubblegum. “It was … a moment of panic.”

“It makes sense though,” Reiner says. He pushes himself off the table so that he’s balancing haphazardly on the back legs of his chair. “The two of you are like … childhood assholes to lovers trope.” Reiner grins at them.

“Isn’t it ‘childhood friends’?” a confused Armin asks, and Annie only shrugs.

“This isn’t your stupid fanfiction, Reiner,” Jean snaps, and Reiner gives an offended squawk in reply. He runs a hand through his soft brown hair and sighs. “So now my mom knows I’m in love with Eren and I have to continue living with him so that we can keep his zombie secret from his mom?”

“Well, it’s that or his mom finds out about Eren’s secret when he eats her alive,” Armin replies. Beside him, Eren makes a horrified noise and Armin looks at the zombie apologetically, mouthing a very sincere “sorry.” He clears his throat and continues, “Besides, it’s not like you’re really dating. You just have to pretend until we have this all figured out.”

“... Right,” Jean says. He’s clearly unhappy about the situation and slides down in his seat, arms folded across his chest as he looks everywhere except at Eren, which Eren finds kind of offensive. Jean’s the one who made everything worse by making it seem like they were dating, so why is he acting as if Eren’s made a mess?

Eren opens his mouth. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he wants to pick a fight with Jean. Maybe he’ll point out how most of this is Jean’s fault, or at least everything that happened after Eren came back is mostly Jean’s fault. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how Jean couldn’t tell one measly lie to his mother. Maybe he’ll just tell Jean his hair is stupid. He barely gets Jean’s name out of his mouth when Reiner speaks first.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I already told Bertholdt about Eren and his … condition.” Reiner is sitting properly in his chair now, hands folded in his lap. The schoolteacher is looking ironically like a student confessing to a minor crime, completely distraught and genuinely sorry. The others just look at him, expressions relatively unchanged.

“We know,” they chorus.

“Oh, thank god,” Reiner sighs, relaxing against his chair. He turns to Eren. “Sorry, Eren. I really wanted to keep your secret but Bertholdt -”

“- is the love of your life, we know,�� Eren finishes for him with a sigh. He’s not even disappointed. It’s hard to be disappointed when you know something is inevitable. Bertholdt isn’t that talkative though, so he’s not that worried.

“Can we move onto actual problems? I don’t want to spend my entire lunch break listening to Reiner gush about how much he loves Bertholdt, ” Annie says. She ignores Reiner as he splutters indignantly, already listing reasons why she should be grateful to hear about how sweet and thoughtful and perfect Bertholdt is. Eren notices that the donut bag in front of Annie is now empty and she is now grumpily rubbing the powdered sugar off her fingers with a napkin.

“Okay, well, we should really focus on Eren’s reveal,” says Armin. He begins to scribble furiously in his notes, his handwriting neat even as his pen flies across the paper. “Eren, you should work on how you’re going to meet with your mother. I advise that you take Jean. It would make your relationship seem more genuine.” He ignores the flustered spluttering of the two idiots and continues to write. “Annie and Reiner and I will continue our literature search. I might take over vodou because it seems more pertinent to our particular case. And we should all take turns watching you.”

Here, the others begin to let their gazes stray. Annie, Reiner, and Jean's eyes are wandering around the room, their eyes intentionally avoiding Armin and Eren.

Eren sits up, miffed. “Why are all of you guys being weird?” he asks.

All three still refuse to look at him and Eren waves a gloved hand in front of Reiner’s face until the schoolteacher looks at him with a guilty look on his face. He starts to mumble a little bit, something about how it was unfair of Eren to single him out like this, before saying, “Well, it’s a little difficult for us to be watching you all of the time, you know? It’s unfair and inhumane of us to just lock you in Jean’s apartment for most of the day, but we kind of have full-time jobs. We don’t have the freedom to babysit you all day.”

“Babysit?” Eren parrots, completely offended. “What do you mean babysit?”

“You’re kind of a walking death trap,” Annie says, gesturing vaguely at Eren. This only makes Eren huff even more. “As Armin said, we all should take turns looking after you to make sure nothing happens but Reiner’s right. We don’t have the freedom to babysit you all day. Or at least most of us don’t.” Her eyes flicker towards Armin and soon everyone in the room is looking at the councilman.

“M-me?” Armin says, his pen falling out of his hand. He blinks, looking left and right. He’s completely bewildered. “You want me to look after Eren all the time?”

“Well, you’re in and out all of the time, and you could always make up something about going around town to help someone,” Jean points out. Reiner and Annie nod beside him. “The rest of us don’t have that kind of flexibility with our jobs.”

“B-but,” Armin falters. His arms flail at his sides hopelessly.

“You’re not scared of Eren are you?” Reiner asks. He ignores the frown deepening on Eren’s face and reaches out to touch Armin’s hand comfortingly. “Don’t be. Even if Eren did go on a hungry rampage and tried to eat you, you could probably take him down easily. My niece Gabi could shatter Eren’s kneecaps with a few good kicks.”

Reiner’s words are meant to be reassuring, but Eren only feels insulted. “Hey,” the zombie protests, but the teacher only waves him away.

“I mean, you guys are right, but I don’t like the idea of having to …” Armin gulps, not quite finishing his sentence. “I just hope worse doesn’t come to worst.”

Eren bites his lip, looking down at his hands. He’s thankful they’re gloved because he doesn’t think he can bear looking at the blue and purple veins that run underneath his thin, papery skin, serving as a reminder of the monster he had become against his will. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but his apology isn’t loud enough to be heard even in the quiet of the room.

There’s a loud screech as Annie’s chair drags against the wooden floor. Annie’s balling up the empty paper bag, collecting her things. “Well, since we’re done here, I’m going to look for more resources before I go back up. Hanji might come down here if they think I’m trying to avoid talking to customers again.” Annie brushes some crumbs off the table. “You guys are welcome to stay, but I think Reiner’s next kindergarten class starts soon.”

Reiner glances at his watch. “Ah, shit, you’re right,” he frowns.

“Wait, we’re not going to talk anymore?” Eren asks as both Reiner and Jean begin to shrug on their coats. Annie is already walking away from the table, tossing her paper bag into the recycling bin near the foot of the stairs.

“Why would we need to talk more? We’re out of donuts,” Annie says. She pauses for a moment, thinking, and then adds, “And things to talk about.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jean says. He pats Eren on the shoulder. “Just focus on what you’re going to say to your mom.” To Armin, he asks, “You’re fine with babysitting the zombie?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Armin sighs. He gives an offended Eren a weary smile. “Anything else you have concerns about, Eren?”

Around them, the rest begin to move on. Annie is already behind another shelf, flipping through more books and scanning their contents like the world’s fastest speedreader. Jean and Reiner are heading up the stairs together, Reiner talking Jean’s ear off about something cute Bertholdt did last night. Only Eren and Armin remain seated at the table, the latter collecting his notes and tucking them neatly away in his bottomless messenger bag.

Eren tugs at his earlobe awkwardly. “Well,” he says reluctantly, not sure how to ask his question. “I was wondering if you knew how I could get a job.”

“Oh.” Armin stops what he’s doing and looks up at Eren, his mouth in a perfect “O.” It’s clear that he hadn’t expected this question and, despite being one of the most prepared people Eren has ever met, has absolutely no idea how to approach this problem. Still, he squares his jaw and smiles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

-------------------

If Eren had thought finding a job as a human was difficult, then finding a job as a zombie is practically impossible. He had run through his options with Armin and there weren’t a lot of them after they filtered out jobs that required him to be around people for long periods of time. Although Eren was discouraged, Armin assured him that they’d find something for him eventually. Besides, they didn’t have the proper identification materials that Eren would need when he finally did manage to get a job.

“I’ll think of something,” Armin says, putting a comforting hand on Eren’s shoulder. “It’s only a matter of time. Meanwhile, you should consider the newspaper delivery job I talked about. I heard Colt was thinking of dropping it after getting his barista job.”

Eren wrinkles his nose. “You seriously want me to consider a job Colt could do? I’d rather just let another high schooler do it. I have a degree, Armin! I shouldn’t be delivering papers!”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Eren, you died. You shouldn’t be walking around at all, much less finding a job to pay your rent with Jean,” Armin points out. He shakes his head. “I mean, I’ll still look into it, but it’s hard to find remote work here or any other kind of job that allows you to work outside of an office.”

Eren knows Armin’s right, but that doesn’t prevent him from feeling disappointed. He rubs the back of his head and sighs. “Thanks for everything so far. I know you don’t like missing work,” Eren says. He puts on a smile and asks, “You should probably get back to town hall. I don’t want your work to pile up because of me. I’m already causing you enough trouble as it is.”

“It’s fine, you’re no bother,” Armin insists. He pauses for a moment, studying Eren. “Are you going to be alright walking home by yourself? You won’t …?” He looks worried, not finishing his sentence but Eren already knows what Armin’s asking.

Eren shakes his head. “No, I’ll be … fine. Being with you guys helps with the cravings, I think, at least a little bit. And I’m pretty sure if I do end up attacking anyone, they can fight me off pretty easily,” Eren says. He doesn’t like the idea of being killed, but he’d rather die than eat someone. “Reiner was telling me earlier that Gabi could probably squash my head in with her plastic fire truck if she wanted to.” He believes Reiner, too. Gabi might only be five, but she was the most ruthless five-year-old that Eren has ever met.

Armin chuckles. “Alright then,” he says, giving Eren another pat on the back. “Let me know if you need anything. You still have Jean’s phone?”

Eren nods. Jean had given it to him, saying that it would be more useful for the zombie to have it in case he needed to contact any of the others. Eren was only borrowing it temporarily until Jean could purchase another one for the zombie to use exclusively.

“Great,” Armin smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” The councilman gives Eren an awkward wave before departing, heading in the direction of town hall. Eren watches his best friend until Armin disappears around a corner and he can see him no longer.

Closing his eyes, Eren breathes deeply in through his nose and lets out his warm breath in a cloud of smoke. He’s not looking forward to the rest of the day. He has the readings and notes from Armin to go through, but he knows he’s just going to let them sit in his backpack until 2 AM before he actually looks at them. Eren pulls his scarf over his mouth and shuffles down the street, walking as slowly as possible back to Jean’s apartment.

The zombie keeps his head down and his back hunched, trying his best to walk in a manner that others won’t recognize. If Jean’s mom can figure out who he is just from looking at him from behind, others certainly can as well. Eren’s not sure if he can manage lying about his real identity to so many people at one time.

Still, he can’t help his wandering eyes as he looks up and down the unchanged streets. Every shop is just as it was a year ago, the same people coming in and going about their usual business while Eren walked by without them noticing. Every once and a while he would see an unfamiliar face, but that was normal too. Tourists always came and went. Really, it’s like nothing at all had changed since Eren had left except for the fact that he was a zombie and could no longer interact freely with everyone.

He sighs again and continues on his path, making himself as small as possible so that he doesn’t bump into any pedestrians. Every now and again a passerby will try and peer up at his face as he walks past, but Eren keeps everything but his eyes visible so as to not be recognized, and the curious pedestrian will always shrug and go about their way.

Eren nearly passes by the news station, but he stops himself and turns to look at the building. It was the only news station in town because, well, not much happened in this small town and zombies were old news that they hardly needed to talk about. Back when Eren had first returned from the city, his mother had tried to talk him into looking for a job at the news station. After all, he had a degree in journalism (a useless degree that he oftentimes regretted obtaining after he failed to find a job in the city), so it only made sense. His pride wouldn’t let him consider it, however, because small-town news wasn’t the type of news that Eren wanted to write about. He wanted to write about corporate corruption in the big city, political scandals, and law enforcement taking brides, not about how a kid from the local high schooler had won the district spelling bee and would be traveling to the next town over to compete with their peers who had done the same. However, after everything that has happened to him recently, Eren thinks he wouldn’t mind writing a line or two about a kid who successfully spelled “vivisepulture.”

Eren’s too busy staring at the news building to notice that a woman had walked out and was looking curiously at him.

“Excuse me,” she says, startling him from his thoughts. When he turns to look at her, he realizes that he’s never seen her before. He’d be tempted to say that it’s because she’s a tourist, but the badge hanging around her neck clearly states her name as “Mikasa Ackerman,” a field journalist for the paper.

“Ah, um, hello,” Eren says, making his voice lower than its typical timbre. He feels ridiculous right after because he’s never met this woman before so there’s no way that she’d be able to recognize his voice. That and the fact that his disguised voice sounds like he’s trying to do a poor imitation of Christian Bale’s Batman. Embarrassed, Eren clears his throat and tries again. “Hello.”

The woman looks at him, narrowing her gray eyes as she does so. It’s as if she’s trying to recall where she had seen Eren before even though Eren’s certain he’s never met this woman before in his life. He would have remembered a face like hers: heart-shaped with stormy gray eyes and full pink lips. She wears a knitted cap, but locks of her thick, dark hair peek out from it, black like ink. She looks about his age, so she must have moved her during the year Eren had gone missing. Even if he didn’t hang out with everyone in his age group, he at least knew everyone and Eren definitely would have remembered a face like hers.

The woman realizes she’s been staring and backs away, expression apologetic. “Sorry about that. I just thought you seemed a little familiar,” she says with a smile. The woman holds out a gloved hand for Eren to shake. “I’m Mikasa Ackerman.”

“I’m Er-” Eren stops himself from revealing his full name. Mikasa gives him a funny look and Eren fakes a coughing fit to distract her, pounding at his chest to make it look more authentic. After what he feels is an appropriate amount of time, Eren straightens his back and tries again. “I’m, ah, Er…”

The reporter raises an eyebrow. “Er?” she repeats and then points vaguely at the sky, waving her finger in a circle. “Like … air?”

“Um, yes,” Eren says. God, he’s so bad at lying. He wonders if he was always bad at lying or if it’s just harder to lie when you’re hiding the fact that you’re a zombie. It might also be karma for judging Jean for being such a bad liar to Mrs. Kirstein earlier this morning. He’ll have to apologize to Jean later. Without thinking, Eren explains. “It’s short for Ariel. But people just call me ‘Ar.’ My, um, parents were huge fans of The Little Mermaid.”

Eren immediately wants to smack himself in the face for saying something so stupidly unbelievable, but he resists if only because doing so will make it blatantly obvious that he’s lying out of his ass.

“Oh,” says Mikasa, looking more confused than ever. “That’s … unusual. But it’s a pretty name.” When it’s clear that Eren isn’t going to shake her hand, she lets it fall to her side and Eren notices the weapon hanging from her waist and is taken aback.

“Is that … a sword?” Eren asks, pointing at the thing dangling at the woman’s hip.

“Hm? Ah,” Mikasa says as she looks down. With a smile, she pats the weapon around her hip as if it holds fond memories for her. Eren hopes that the fond memories don’t include beheading zombies. “It’s a katana passed down from my mother. I grew up in the city, so I didn’t think I’d be needing this. I ended up moving here anyway and my parents gave me this to protect myself because of the whole zombie problem.”

Eren’s eyes are fixed on the thin blade, noticing that it’s different in shape than a traditional sword. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone bring a sword, katana or not, to protect themselves. “It’s pretty … unconventional compared to other weapons,” Eren says.

The reporter shrugs. “Yeah. My family’s been in the business of killing monsters for quite some time though and they insist that weapons like these are far better than more traditional ones,” Mikasa says with a little laugh. She pats the hilt of her katana, smiling. “It’s kind of a bitch to clean after I use it, but it’s pretty effective since my cousin reminds me to sharpen it after each use.”

“O-oh. So you sharpen it every night,” Eren laughs nervously. He rubs at his neck, imagining the blade slicing him cleanly like a hot knife through butter. He gulps.

“It doesn’t take that long,” says Mikasa with a shrug, not at all noticing the zombie’s nervousness. She looks back up at him and clasps her hands together as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I was going to ask if you needed something. You looked like you were about to go in.” Mikasa gestures towards the building.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Eren says, shaking his head furiously. He needs to find a way to escape the scary sword lady as quickly as possible. He bows his head gratefully, wondering if he should just before deciding it’s a terrible idea. She might chase after him. If she can slice zombies in half, she can definitely catch up to a runaway zombie. “I just … was looking for a job, but you guys probably aren’t hiring anyone anyway so I should probably be on my way -!” He tries to turn to leave but he doesn’t manage to take a step before Mikasa grabs him by the arm and yanks him back so forcefully that he almost falls on his ass.

“Did you say you were looking for a job?” Mikasa asks, whirling Eren around so that he faces her. She’s grinning from ear to ear excitedly and Eren’s so surprised that he just nods without thinking. “Oh, that’s so great. I’ve been looking for a partner for ages, but nobody ever wants to work with me.”

“Er, what’s your work?” Eren asks, wishing that Mikasa wouldn’t grip him so tightly. He can feel the way her fingers press against his arms even with the thick layers of clothing he wears.

“I work in the field, usually out in the mountains,” she tells him and Eren’s ears perk at the words “mountains.” If most of her work is in the mountains, that means she doesn’t typically see people outside of the occasional hiker. That’s something Eren might be able to work with even if it does mean he’ll be working with a katana-swinging news reporter who could probably kill him in the blink of an eye.

“Okay,” Eren says slowly. He pries Mikasa’s hands away from his arm. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

“Alright, well,” Mikasa says, brushing a lock of jet black hair behind her ear. “It’s mainly, well, my seniors would call it ‘useless,’ but I think exploring the mountains is promising. I don’t know how much you know about the town so far, but it’s pretty well-known for its zombies. Other places, big cities and the like, don’t have nearly as many zombie appearances, but for some reason this small town does and I want to find out why. The people of this town want to leave it be, but I think it might be a big story if we can find a source.”

For some reason, Mikasa’s words are sounding awfully familiar.

“Unfortunately, it’s difficult for me to do the work alone,” Mikasa continues. “I’ve only been here a year and it’s dangerous to go into the mountains if you’re not familiar with them, especially at night. I’ve only been able to do work during the day, but I’ve been wanting to explore the mountains at night in case I’ve missed anything. With two people, it might be a lot safer …” Mikasa doesn’t finish speaking before Eren interrupts.

“I can help!” he blurts.

Mikasa blinks in surprise. “You can?”

“Yeah!” Eren says before he realizes that Mikasa believes he’s just recently moved here. He should probably backtrack and just offer to make her a map or something, but helping her might also mean getting more information about his current state. After all, Mikasa is looking into the same things as Eren and his friends. He should probably consult Armin or Jean about this, but he thinks they would agree that this is a golden opportunity. A job and the chance to further their research. “I … went hiking up and down this hill when I was just a tourist. I ended up liking this place so much that I moved here. I know these mountains like the back of my hand.” The fact that the last bit isn’t a lie helps ease Eren’s conscience.

“Oh, wow, that works out so well,” Mikasa says, eyebrows raised. Mumbling something that Eren can’t quite hear, the reporter fumbles for her purse and peruses through it. She finally manages to find her wallet, pulling it out and flipping it open so that she can pluck out a business card which she hands to Eren. “I’ll have to talk to my boss first, but I’m sure I can work something out. Call me on the number on that card and I’ll let you know the details when I have them.”

“Oh, that sounds … great,” Eren says. He was surprised by the katana, but he finds the business card even more surprising than the outdated weapon. Nobody in town ever carried around a business card because everyone knew each other. Mikasa must be on top of her shit, Eren thinks. He pockets her card in his back pocket and smiles at her, but his mouth remains mostly hidden behind his scarf so he’s not sure she even notices. “I’ll call you when I get home. This has been a pretty … productive conversation. It was nice meeting you, Mikasa.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I ran into you, Ar,” Mikasa says, and it takes Eren a minute to realize that she’s referring to him by the stupid disguise name he came up with. The reporter looks as if she’s about to bid him goodbye but she hesitates, narrowing her eyes at him like she did when she had first bumped into him. Tilting her head, she asks, “Are you sure we’ve never met before? Something about your face looks familiar. I swear I’ve seen you before. It’s something about this …” She gestures around her eyes.

Eren knows for certain that he’s never met Mikasa before today, but he’s still nervous about all her questions. He bites his lip and reminds himself that it’s impossible for Mikasa to have known him and tries to convince himself that he’s just being paranoid. “Yeah, I’m sure. I haven’t really talked to a lot of people here because I’ve just moved and spent most of my time unpacking. Today’s the first actual day I’ve walked around town.”

“Hm,” Mikasa says. She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods, seemingly accepting Eren’s explanation for now. With a shrug, she says, “Maybe you just have one of those faces.”

“Yeah, haha, I’ve been told that,” Eren says, going on laughing for an unusual amount of time. God, he wishes Jean were here so the makeup artist could slap the shit out of him for being such an obvious liar.

“Right, I should be on my way then,” Mikasa says. She doesn’t try to shake his hand anymore, which Eren’s grateful for, and instead gives a polite bow of her head. “Remember to call me. I’ll see you around, Ar.”

“See you,” Eren says, watching Mikasa walk off. As soon as she’s gone, he pulls out the business card, pinching the thick cardstock between his fingers. The card has a shiny red border around it and Mikasa’s name is written in the center in an elegant cursive. Underneath in smaller letters is her occupation followed by her contact information. It’s incredibly professional and far fancier than anything a field reporter from a small town would need. Still, Eren is impressed.

The zombie’s thumb runs over the letters of the reporter’s name, feeling each bump and groove of the letters underneath the pad of his thumb. He smiles to himself as he looks down at the card, feeling a little giddy. He can’t even imagine the look on Jean’s face when he tells the makeup artist about his great news.

-------------------

“That’s terrible news,” Jean says and has been saying for the past hour since Eren had told him about his meeting with Mikasa. It’s the exact opposite reaction that he had been expecting from Jean.

“I know, you’ve said that at least a million times since we’ve left the house, but you won’t explain why!” Eren huffs as he stomps behind Jean, sulking. In his fist is Mikasa’s business card, all crumpled up and bent after Jean had told him to forget about it. The zombie had thrown it in the trash in frustration the first time Jean had said it was a dumb idea to take the field reporting job, but Eren had dug it out of the wastebin and smoothed out the wrinkles after thinking about it for a bit. “I thought you would be happy for me. Armin and I talked it out and a job out in the open away from people would be perfect for .. for someone like me. I’d even be able to write!”

Jean runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends the way he usually does when he’s tired of arguing. “That’s not … the job isn’t the problem,” Jean says with a shake of his head. He looks so miserable that Eren almost feels bad for not letting up about the job at the news station.

“What is it then?”

The makeup artist hesitates as he decides whether or not he wants to give an answer. He sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, looking at Eren who hasn’t stopped glaring at him since they left the house. With a sigh, he finally replies, “It’s Mikasa.”

“Mikasa?” Eren wrinkles his nose. Mikasa’s only been in town for a year. Eren doesn’t know her that well, but she was pleasant enough this afternoon. It’s hard to imagine what the reporter could have done to make Jean feel so strongly against Eren working with her, especially since Jean isn’t the type to hold a grudge against people. “If it’s about me possibly putting her in danger -”

Jean shakes his head again. “I’m not worried about that. She’s the type that can fend for herself,” Jean says. He still doesn’t offer an explanation as to why Eren shouldn’t work with Mikasa though so the zombie tries again.

“Are you scared that I might let the truth about my ‘condition’ slip while I’m with her?” Eren asks.

Once more Jean shakes his head. “That’s not it either.” Jean sighs and runs his hand through his hair. His hair is beginning to look messier and messier the longer this conversation lasts. Eren would laugh at how funny it is to see a makeup artist with such tangled hair, but the current conversation is too frustrating for Eren to have any sense of humor.

“You can’t just not give me a reason,” Eren grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at a pebble.

“I just don’t think you two would work well together, alright?” Jean snaps. Jean and Eren are always bickering, although it’s usually Eren that loses his temper first. What is it about Mikasa that’s making Jean so adamant that Eren not take this job?

The zombie looks curiously at his friend. “Did you and Mikasa … date by any chance?”

Jean’s head whips around to look at Eren so quickly that the zombie is surprised the man’s neck hadn’t snapped. “What? No!” Jean splutters, answering far too quickly for Eren to be convinced he’s telling the truth.

“Hm. You don’t sound very convincing. Maybe I should ask, Armin?” Eren raises his eyebrows and starts to reach for his pocket to pull out his phone, but Jean suddenly grabs for his wrist, stopping him. The zombie looks up in alarm.

“Don’t … please don’t do that,” Jean says, practically pleading. Normally Eren would just ignore him, call up Armin anyway and ask him why Jean’s acting so funny about a girl, but Jean looks sincerely distressed and Eren doesn’t want to aggravate him any further.

“... Fine,” Eren agrees and his hand falls to his side as Jean finally loosens his grip. The zombie puts his hand back in his pocket and looks up at the darkening sky, walking in silence beside Jean for a short while. “Do you want to talk about what we’re going to say to my mom then?”

After Mrs. Kirstein had given the boys an ultimatum to inform Eren’s mother about her son’s return this morning, Jean and Eren had decided that it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible. Eren suggested that they bring Armin. After all, his brain is better than both Jean and Eren’s combined, but Jean only shook his head.

“How often do you bring your best friend to explain why you’re dating your partner?” Jean asks, which is a very good point.

“I mean, never, but it was just a suggestion because, really, do either of us know what we’re doing?” Eren says. All his life he’s been bumbling around trying his best without any real clue about where he was going, but it’s only now that he feels like he has absolutely no idea. Armin probably doesn’t have this problem because he’s overly prepared for everything. Armin probably has a spreadsheet that tells him what to do in the case Eren becomes a zombie and his friend has to pretend to date him so that he can live at his house to avoid eating his mom when she’s asleep. Unfortunately, Eren could never be bothered with learning even the basics of Microsoft Excel so he can’t even hope to construct such a thing.

“We just tell her that you’re back, that we’re dating, and that you’ll be living with me but that you’ll come visit every once in a while.” Jean pauses for a moment to think about anything he’s forgotten. “Oh, and you should profusely apologize for worrying her to death.”

Eren scowls. It can’t be nearly that simple. “You make it sound easy,” he mumbles. “I don’t even know how you got your mom to buy it.”

“Why wouldn’t my mom buy it?”

The zombie wrinkles his nose as if it’s obvious. “I mean, it’s weird. You and I are like … well.” He doesn’t have words to describe what they are. It’s hard to explain their current state: a zombie and his talented makeup artist friend who has sworn to help him in honor of their 10+ year friendship. But even if Eren were a normal person, it’d still be weird. “It’s just weird.”

Jean raises his eyebrow as if he doesn’t quite understand what Eren is trying to say.

Eren sighs, tugging at the fold of his beanie. “We’re … friends.”

Jean puffs out his cheeks, cute and round and delectable like two ripe peaches. Thankfully, he breathes out and his cheeks are back to normal before Eren can think about leaning over and tearing his teeth into Jean’s face.

“Reiner and Bertholdt were friends before, too,” Jean points out. “It wasn’t weird for them.”

“Yeah, but that’s Reiner and Bertholdt. We’re nothing like them,” Eren says dismissively. Nobody was like them. It’s like the two were destined for each other, the way they circled one another before they had officially become an item. “Look, we could hardly stand to be in a room alone with each other without wanting to throw the other person out the window. How is anyone, let alone my mom, going to believe we want to be together in any capacity? It would be hard to convince my mom that I’d even want to room with you, and she knows better than anyone that I’d never want to date you.”

Jean’s face twitches like he’s mildly annoyed. “You’re so …” His voice trails off and he never says exactly what Eren is, only sighs and opens the gate to Eren’s house.

It looks the same as it always did: worn-down fence around a well-trimmed lawn, a two-story house with the white paint chipping off the sides, and the kitchen light on. Eren’s sure he’d be able to see his mother’s silhouette if he peered in, but the thought of seeing her makes his palms sweat and his throat dry so he keeps his eyes on the pavement, letting Jean lead the way to the front door.

Jean rings the doorbell and the familiar chime rings.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eren can see his mother’s familiar shadow stop and lean out the window. He knows his mother will see him soon, but Eren still ducks his head instinctively, hiding behind Jean’s broad back.

The door opens and Eren’s mother steps out. A part of Eren wants to peek over Jean’s shoulder just to see how his mother is. Has her hair streaked with more gray since he saw her last? Does she have another wrinkle or two in the year that he’s been gone? Will he be able to see how much his disappearance has taken a toll on her just from a glance?

“Hi, Mrs. Jaeger,” Jean says with an awkward wave.

“Jean,” says Eren’s mom. Her voice sounds a little wearier than Eren remembers it. “What are you doing here so late in the evening?”

“Er,” Jean says. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet before finally stepping aside and revealing who was hiding behind him.

Eren doesn’t look up right away. He stares at his mother’s feet first and sees how they’re clad in worn-out slippers that he had gotten for her years ago, the color faded and the light pink color faded to white. Slowly, he looks up and sees his mother in the same familiar clothes she always wore at home, a plain gray shirt and cream-colored pants with a thin robe thrown over her ensemble. She doesn’t look too different — her hair is a little bit grayer, the bags under her eyes a bit more prominent, and there’s a new wrinkle at the corner of her eyes — but Eren doesn’t remember if she was always this small.

Eren’s mother doesn’t seem to recognize him right away. The layers of clothing and the bucket hat that hangs over his eyes. He folds the brim of his hat up so that his mother can see his eyes and he sees a spark of recognition that quickly turns to surprise. Her eyes begin to well with tears and he gives her a sheepish smile. He’s about to hold his arms out to her and tell her that he’s sorry for disappearing without a word. He expects his mom to envelope him in her arms, perhaps cry about how much he worried her after being gone for so long. Instead, he gets whacked in the face with one of his mother’s slippers.

“Mom!” Eren yelps. He tries to hide behind Jean, but she begins to chase him, waving her other slipper threateningly in her other hand. The two run around Jean who’s awkwardly stuck in the middle. Eren manages to use Jean as a shield and splutters from behind Jean’s shoulder, “Mom, what the fuck?”

“Don’t you curse at me, Eren Jaeger,” his mother hisses. She tries to get a few hits in but ends up accidentally whacking Jean’s head instead. “Anyway, I should be asking you that question! Where the fuck have you been this whole year?”

Eren grimaces. It’s never a good sign when his mom starts cursing. He can’t say that this will end well. Either his mother will lock him in his room for the rest of his life so that he can never disappear again or she’ll kick him out of the house and officially disown him like she’s been threatening to for the past twenty-plus years of his life.

“Mom, stop, you’re gonna kill him,” Eren whines when his mother lands a particularly hard whack of her slipper on Jean’s head.

“Stop, stop!” Jean shouts, holding Eren’s mother back by the shoulders. His arms are long enough to prevent her from hitting him over the head again. He glares at Eren over his shoulder as if this is all Eren’s fault, which isn’t fair. It’s not as if Eren wanted to disappear for a year and come back as a zombie. Jean’s still struggling to keep Eren’s mother back. “How about we just … go inside and talk? We probably all have a lot to talk about.”

Jean leads a very angry Mrs. Jaeger into the house while a cautious Eren follows behind. The three of them seat themselves in the living room — Eren and Jean on the couch while Mrs. Jaeger glowers at her son from the matching sofa chair — but nobody says anything. Apparently, they didn’t have a lot to talk about.

“H-how have you been, Mom?’ Eren asks, giving his mom a shaky smile. He probably shouldn’t have said anything. He knows she’s only going to explode at him as she’s apt to do when she’s angry, but the alternative is sitting there in silence until the end of time and he really doesn’t want to keep Jean here longer than necessary.

“I was worried sick about you for the past year you were gone,” his mother replies. Her voice is calm, but Eren can feel the barely contained anger simmering underneath. “I see I was worried about nothing because you seem as fine as ever even though you haven’t bothered to let me know you were alright.”

His mother is absolutely right, but her words still sting. It frustrates Eren that he can’t reveal the true reason why he disappeared for a year. He should probably just bite his tongue and apologize for causing her to worry so much, but he can’t. He’s never been good at apologizing, but he’s even worse about sharing his problems. He’s not sure where to begin, how to explain his burdens, or how to ask for help. So he neither apologizes nor asks for help. Instead, he explodes.

“Why is it that you start nagging me right when I get home?” Eren asks. He’s rising up from his seat. The zombie ignores the panicked whispers from Jean even as his friend tugs at his elbow and begs him to sit back down. “I’m finally home. Isn’t that enough?”

“Why shouldn’t I start nagging? I’m your mother! Am I not allowed to be worried about you?” His mother is standing too, but she’s a dwarf compared to Eren.

“There’s nothing to worry about anymore! I’m right here!”

“You are now! But for how long?” His mother is trembling with anger, her clenched fists shaking by her sides. Her eyes are shining with tears and her face is flushed. “How will I know you won’t disappear again? What if you vanish again without a trace?”

Eren opens his mouth to answer, but Jean suddenly stands between the mother and son.

“I think we should … talk about this alone,” Jean says, gesturing to Eren’s mother and then himself. He’s voice is loud, but he’s not shouting. He glances at Eren and then tilts his chin towards the staircase, gesturing for Eren to exit the room. “Eren, you should go to your room.”

“But -!”

“Go to your room!” Jean and Eren’s mother repeat and Eren has no choice but to scurry up the stairs and into his room.

He starts to sulk as soon as he shuts the door behind him. It’s one thing if his mother tells him to go to his room, but Jean ordering him to his room somehow seems more humiliating. The zombie kicks at the familiar carpet and then, still pouting, looks around the room.

It’s just as he left it. There are still embarrassingly old anime posters plastered on his bedroom walls and action figures decorating his bookshelf. His bed is still here, a tiny twin-sized bed with little rocket ships printed on the sheets. Everything on his nightstand and dresser are the same, even the tiny Pokemon figurines beside his lamp. Eren walks over to pick one up and turns it in his hand, wondering why there isn’t any dust on anything. He realizes why a second later and feels a strange pain in his chest. He sets the figurine down and walks towards his bedroom door. It’s impossible to hear what his mother and Jean are talking about downstairs, but he presses his ear against the door anyway.

As expected, he can’t make out any words. Eren can hear his mother speaking, her voice high-pitched and hysterical. Jean’s voice is low and soothing in comparison. Eren’s not sure how Jean is able to speak to his mother. Whenever Eren argued with her, he could hardly get a word in. From what he can hear, Jean speaks every once in a while, but it’s mostly his mother talking. There’s a pause on the other end and Eren can’t hear a thing for a moment, just a sound like someone crying. He presses his ear a little bit closer against the door, but it doesn’t seem to help at all. After a moment, the crying stops and Jean speaks again.

Eren wonders if he should open the door and take a peek outside. It’s not like he’s five. He’s a zombie in his early twenties (or does age restart once you’re reanimated?) and can do what he wants. His hand hovers over the doorknob and is about to turn it when the door is yanked open and he nearly falls over. He stumbles a few steps and looks up to see Jean standing in front of him with an amused expression on his face.

“Were you … trying to eavesdrop?” Jean asks.

“N-no!” Eren replies a little too quickly. He stands up straight and clears his throat. As casually as he can, he asks, “What did you guys … talk about?” He glances behind Jean where his mother is standing and is surprised to see that her face is red and blotchy, and her cheeks are stained with tears. For a moment, he falters, “Mom, what … what happened?”

His mother turns her face away and hastily wipes her cheek with a finger. “I spoke with Jean. He told me what happened and that … you two are in a relationship now.” The words make Eren flush. He’s about to deny all of it, but his mother continues to speak. “He’s assured me that he would take good care of you so … I’ve consented to the two of you living together just so long as you call home and visit every once in a while so that I know you’re okay.”

It’s a lot to take in all at once, so Eren can only stand there in stunned silence. He doesn’t even notice when Jean takes his hand until the makeup artist intertwines their fingers. Surprised, he’s about to pull away but Jean keeps a firm grip.

“Come on, Eren,” Jean says, tugging Eren along lightly. “Let’s go home.”

He’s not sure what happens in between the time they leave Eren’s room and start walking down the street. Eren vaguely remembers saying goodbye to his mother and seeing her shut the door. He thinks he recalls walking down the steps of his front porch and wondering why he could hear muffled sobbing from inside his house, and he remembers turning back and wondering if he was just imagining his mother’s silhouette watching them from the kitchen window. They make it half a block down the street before Eren realizes he’s still holding Jean’s hand. He withdraws it quickly and Jean looks back, surprised.

“How did you get my mom to agree to this?” Eren asks Jean.

Jean looks slightly irritated at Eren, although the zombie has no idea why. “It’s like she told you,” Jean replies. He runs a tired hand through his hand and sighs after Eren gives him a look that says he doesn’t believe the makeup artist one bit. “I told her that you were just having a rough time after disappearing this past year and that you just needed some help. I said we were together and that I’d take care of you so she wouldn’t need to worry.”

Eren wrinkles his nose. “And she just believed you?”

“Yeah, I mean …” Jean’s voice trails off and he shrugs. He pauses to look at Eren for a moment and then says, “You know, you could have just told her everything. That you’re a zombie and everything. I know we haven’t discussed it with the others, but I think they would have understood.”

“But the secret! And people knowing! I thought we were supposed to do things slowly!” Eren splutters, waving a hand about.

“I know, but … it’s your mom,” Jean says, and Eren knows he’s right in a way. If there’s anyone who deserves to know the truth, it’s his mom. Still, he can’t bear the thought of telling her. “We could have worked it out if you wanted to tell her. Anyway, you know it’s okay to tell people things and ask for help from people, especially people who are close to you. They care about you, you know?”

Eren’s steps falter and he frowns. He’s not sure why Jean is bringing this up. He doesn’t need help, or at least any more help than he has now. He’s fine, isn’t he? Isn’t he managing as a zombie pretty well? Not only is he fooling his mom and other townspeople, but he’s managed to get himself a job too. Why should he ask for help?

Seeing that Eren doesn’t quite get it, Jean sighs once more and shakes his head. “Nevermind,” Jean says. He holds out a hand for Eren to take. “Let’s just go home. It’s getting dark.”

Eren knows that hand is for him, but he can’t bring himself to take it. He hesitates and then shoves his hands in both his pockets.

“Yeah,” Eren says. He pretends not to notice the awkward way Jean sticks his hand in his own pockets. “Let’s go home.”

#erejean #snk #zombie detective au #how to be a zombie series #htbaz series #eren jaeger #jean kirstein

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