torilovestowrite - Tumblr blog

torilovestowrite · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮

“Who is she?” he whispers back, eyes flitting towards you unknowingly again.

“Eren’s little sister,” Marco starts, and Jean releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “Now stop staring, boss said he’ll kill any one of us if we look at her for too long, okay?”

Jean’s never been more ready to die, which is saying something in his line of work, because he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

warnings: mafia!au, slowburn, angst, mentions of smoking + drugs + guns + death, mutual pining, virginity loss/first time, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, jean is a sweetheart and so are we

tagging the lovely @yeagerslut i love you so much! <3

listening to...

His unlit cigarette nearly falls right out of his mouth the first time he sees you. It’s a beautiful spring day, the kind straight out of a movie where the sun is shining and the birds are chirping, and the air is just breezy enough to rustle the skirt of your sundress as you walk towards them.

Jean doesn’t know what to do, staring with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, at you, who he thinks might be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Jean’s no stranger to pretty girls, either, but he just can’t tear his eyes away from you. You’ve got something in a little wicker basket, all wrapped up neatly and a big smile on your face as you lock eyes with Eren, his boss, and suddenly Jean’s heart skips a beat.

The cigarette hits the floor when he realizes you must be Eren’s, must be, with the way you’re looking at him, and the sleek black car that you pulled up in, complete with a driver and an armed bodyguard. He watches any chance of you and him being together, ever, disappear into smoke as you hand Eren the basket, opening it up to reveal lunch and pastries.

Eren’s talking to you now, in a hushed voice with an arm wrapped loosely around your waist. Jean’s trying his hardest not to stare, though he’s failing miserably, as he watches you gaze at Eren with a look he can only describe as pure adoration.

Life’s so unfair sometimes, Jean thinks sadly. Here you are, quite possibly the girl of his dreams, and you’re off limits because Eren found you first. If it were any other guy, Jean might think he still had a chance, but given that Jean is still a fairly new recruit to the gang and Eren is the head of the whole operation, he knows he doesn’t have a shot in hell.

“Stop staring, you’re being obvious,” Marco mutters from beside him, elbow jutting into Jean’s side, rolling his one good eye that’s not covered. “And pick up your cigarette, idiot.”

Jean looks around the room, eyes focusing on the ceiling and then his shoes, in an attempt to get his mind off of you. You, standing so prettily beside Eren, playing with your hair as he takes a bite of the muffin you brought and asks you something Jean isn’t close enough to hear.

“Who is she?” he whispers back, eyes flitting towards you unknowingly again.

Jean’s never been more ready to die, which is saying something in his line of work, because he can’t tear his eyes away from you. It takes him minutes more to get back to his senses, watching you depart sadly from Eren, hugging your brother and lingering much too long, to the point where Eren has to use the hand he has on your back to encourage you off. Jean can’t figure out a few things, like why you don’t want to leave and why Eren is making you. If I had it my way, he thinks bitterly, I’d hold onto you forever.

You walk back to the car with your bodyguard, tears brimming in your eyes because you don’t want to go back and be alone, and you can’t help but notice the new guy.

You know everyone in Eren’s crew, preparing lunches and dinners for them when they’re working late, memorizing birthdays and bringing dessert to celebrate. It’s only natural for you to pick out a new, handsome face among them. It’s not that the others aren’t handsome, they all are—sweet Marco, amusing Connie, right-hand man Armin—but no one’s ever grabbed your attention like the tall boy with his revolver tucked away, looking at you as though he’d like to give you the entire world on a platter.

You glance back at Eren, who’s having a conversation with Armin huddled together, facing away from you, and you have your chance now. You lean down quickly, surprising Hannes as he instinctively moves you—a result of being your bodyguard for nearly a decade. You pick up the cigarette on the floor, near Jean’s shoes and open your hand to him.

“I think you dropped this.”

Jean thinks his face must be burning crimson, you saw that? He takes the cigarette from your hand, fingers brushing against yours just for a heartbeat, as he stammers out a thank you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget this moment, any of it, your sweet smile and glistening eyes and entrancing perfume, the shy expression on your face as though you were telling him not to be embarrassed, like this could have happened to anyone.

You’re gone before he’s really had a chance to process what happened, watching the back of your head get into the car, as your bodyguard closes the door and looks around to make sure no one’s there, before he gets in the passenger seat himself.

Armin’s talking about something, their next shipment and the game plan, but Jean’s still staring at where the car was, playing with the cigarette in his hand and wondering when he’ll get to see you again.

“Kirstein!” Connie’s familiar voice rings out, snapping him back to reality. “You paying attention? This is your chance to prove your usefulness, don’t fuck it up, yeah?” And Jean’s nodding eagerly, reminding himself that he needs to pay attention and do his job and do it well, that there’s no chance for mistakes here, not when his mother needs him alive and well to support her.

But for the first time, in a long time, he feels like there’s something else to live for, besides sending a check home every two weeks and visiting for dinner on the first Sunday of the month, something that wears pretty dresses and cries when she has to leave her brother.

It bugs him, actually, how you tear up so frequently. You have everything you could ever want, everything that any girl your age could want, handed to you within hours of asking for it. He knows Eren is taking care of you in that regard, the expensive clothing and shoes that you sport proving it to everyone.

With the kind of brother Eren is, he’d assume that you wanted more time alone and away from him, spending hours of the day shopping with your friends and completing school work and talking to boys. The mere thought of you with a suitable, nice boyfriend makes his heart churn uncomfortably despite how much he tries to suppress it. But it never works, and now he’s more than curious.

A part of him wonders if the sweet, genuine emotions he sees from you are all a show. If it’s some desperate plea for attention from what has to be the world’s most spoiled brat, the kind of person he grew up jealous of, who has everything at their fingertips without an ounce of hard work.

He tries to listen around, overhear conversations to understand more about the boss’s family, your family, though it’s to no avail. It’s almost like an unspoken rule, don’t bring up family around Eren if you want to keep both your kneecaps. He finally forces it out of Marco eventually, after bothering him just about a hundred times.

“Jesus, Jean, d’you want both of us to die? Both ‘er parents are dead, okay? And Eren’s all she has left, and she’s not even allowed to go anywhere besides school and home. I had to watch her for a day once, the poor thing’s so lonely—it’s horrible, but you can’t do anything about it, okay? Now shut up.”

And Jean finally does, but it’s not because he’s satisfied with the answer, it’s because his heart’s beating so fast he thinks it’s gonna jump out of his chest. You’re lonely, and sad, and all this time he’s been thinking you have everything you want, but you don’t, and money can’t buy the things you want.

Jean thinks that’s the day he decided that he’s going to make you happy again, no matter what it took.

…

No one in the gang can figure out exactly why you are the way you are, save for Armin and your big brother. No one understands why someone like you would willingly get so involved with this shit, with them, when anyone else would stay as far away as they could. And you have your reasons, though ever since you locked eyes with Jean for the first time, your interest in hosting dinners and stopping by has increased tenfold.

Maybe it’s the feeling of being with this substitute group, your new family, you like to think fondly, given that you’ve memorized the way Armin doesn’t like too much sauce but Connie always wants extra, how Marco eats less than his portion and gives the rest to Sasha. Maybe it’s the way your heart always skips a beat when Jean comes into your line of sight, the way he always thanks you over and over again despite how much you tell him he doesn’t have to thank you for anything.

Maybe you can’t stay away because there’s finally someone new here, someone who excites you just with the briefest of grazes and longing looks, someone who doesn’t just see Eren’s pitiful, clingy sister. All you’ve ever wanted is to be more than what Eren’s written you out to be, more than someone who has lost everything and everyone.

Jean’s exciting, in that way. It gives your life the little kick you’ve so desperately been searching for, bored senseless from your repetitive days. Classes, home, Eren, classes, home, Eren, and nothing else. You have friends—or rather had friends—because it’s been all too easy to drift away from them. You miss their company, but not the sad look in their eyes when they would talk to you, like you’re a fragile thing that’ll shatter at any given moment. No, you don’t miss it at all, not when Eren’s friends are such great company.

They share the look too, from time to time, and you wonder what they’re thinking. It must be something along the lines ‘just entertain her, poor thing’, but you don’t care. Not as long as Jean isn’t like that.

And he’s not, at least not so far. He’s different, you can just tell. He finds ways to talk to you, about everything and anything, starting with your classes and then your friends, and then all the things you love. He tries to include you, make you feel like you’re one of them, one of the gang, sharing inside jokes and hearty laughs as he falls into a rhythm with the family. He’s discovering his place, and you’re discovering him, and it must be the longest time you’ve ever gone without crying.

The streak breaks when Eren’s yelling—which is never a good sign for anyone, but especially for you, the way you’re so used to getting what you want from your doting brother—when he’s forbidding you from going to some banquet at your university.

“But, Eren-” you cry, hot tears running down your face as you stamp your feet, annoyed and frustrated and angry all at once. “Everyone’s going, everyone on the Dean’s List, why can’t I? I deserve to-”

“And I just told you that Hannes can’t watch you then, and if you don’t have a guard, you’re not allowed to go, you know this.” His voice is calm and collected, the way he gets when he’s made up his mind and nothing you do is going to change it, though you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

“Who’s gonna try and kill me at a college function? Do you even hear yourself sometimes? You sound ridiculous-”

“Watch it.”

You’re silenced right away, emitting one last sob as you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. You’re sure that everyone’s heard this little spat going on, you’d be surprised if they hadn’t, but you know no one’s standing up to Eren on your behalf. You wouldn’t expect them to, not with how angry he seems now that you’ve crossed the bound by going one step too far, questioning him when you know he just wants you to be safe.

You’re gathering your words, planning carefully so that your argument is clear and valid for when you choose to speak again, when there’s a knock on the door.

“What?” The word is nearly snarled from Eren’s mouth, and with the wide-eyed look Marco and Connie are throwing at him now, Jean knows they both think he’s making a mistake. He knows he’s not, though.

“Just me, boss,” he says, coming in and closing the door behind him. Despite how it’s been nearly six months since he’s joined, six months of proving his usefulness and skill, doing what’s asked without any questions or comments, and fitting in so well with everyone they feel like they’ve known Jean for years, Eren’s still shocked to see him standing beside you now.

Eren glances at your face first, the upset pout and teary expression you’d just had fading into a look of gentle surprise, like you couldn’t believe this was happening. Your lips were separated and eyes blinking, like there was something you needed to say in the back of your throat, but just couldn’t get out. You finally decide to let Jean do the talking for you.

Eren looks back to see Jean, who wasn’t looking at you but straight ahead at him.

“S-sorry, boss, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, or anythin’, but I heard you said Hannes can’t be there to watch ‘er, and I wanted to offer to go in his place-”

“Go wait outside,” Eren says, his gaze looking back to yours. “And don’t even think about trying to listen. I’ll know.”

Jean’s shoulders tense and your stomach drops at the thought of what Eren might do to Jean alone. You almost refuse and keep looking between the two of them, before you catch Jean’s eyes for just a second. Just a second, maybe less, when his honey-colored eyes meet yours and he’s telling you something with them, something like I’ll be fine, don’t worry, and you’re ushered out the door quickly but all you can think about is one thought. When did Jean decide you were worth all this trouble?

Eren’s cold gaze meets Jean’s right after your footsteps become quieter and quieter, letting him know you’re out of earshot.

“Boss, I-”

“Care to explain why you felt the need to do that?” Eren’s words were quiet, but his tone was sharp. Jean had heard this tone before, and he had always been thankful it wasn’t directed towards him. “I…” Jean knows he needs to pick his next few words carefully, but his mind wanders to the thought of you, just outside that door, waiting to see the result of him standing up for you. Him, standing up for you, just the way it should always be, and suddenly words spill out of his mouth that aren’t careful or planned at all.

“Boss, you should let her go, you know it and I know it. You know how horrible it is to sit around all day and not have a single thing to do? No one to see and talk to except us? She spends all ‘er time with a bunch of mafiosos, and I coulda sworn if that was my sister, I’d be begging for her to get away from us and back to normal people. I know you can’t watch her every minute of the day, and I know you only trust Hannes, but I’ll take care of her, I promise. Don’t you think she deserves to go?”

Jean says the last sentence more quietly than the rest, because he knows it’s true and he knows that Eren recognizes that too. He wasn’t lying to Eren at all, in fact every word of it was true, but watching the gears inside Eren’s head work as he thinks about the situation, Jean feels his heart beating fast again, like he just took a big dose of something for the first time.

Eren gets up, letting out a deep sigh and opening the door, walking out to where you were sitting and Jean scrambling behind him. Your eyes are so hesitant, so hopefully, Jean swallows uncomfortably at the thought of disappointing you. He lingers behind Eren as he approaches you, waiting expectedly.

“There’s rules, and you better be home before curfew, or I swear-” Eren’s cut off by you, jumping into his arms and wrapping your own tightly around him. You’re squealing with joy, rambling thank you, as Eren rolls his eyes and hugs you back tightly. You lock eyes with Jean, your gaze revealing what you couldn’t say in front of Eren, the most thankful, most loving look he’s ever seen, and it feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

Jean thinks he’s prepared for this thing, some ceremony for all the kids who are doing really well, at least that was Connie’s explanation of it. He’s nervous to ask you for clarification, scared you might think he’s an idiot or something, and the mere idea of you thinking that is enough to keep him silent. So he gets ready, in his best suit that he’s sure didn’t even cost a fraction of what you’ll be wearing, but it feels good nonetheless.

When he’s waiting for you, outside the door of Eren’s study where Jean had just been given all the rules and rundown for watching you tonight, it feels entirely different.

Sure, he’s got everything memorized—don’t let her out of your eyeshot, always get her a fresh drink, get out of there before curfew—he even took the time to look over the entire invite list, memorizing names and anyone who might need to be kept away.

It feels different because it’s almost like a date. If he ignores the rules for a second, pretends the only thing he’s carrying are some flowers for you rather than his revolver tucked away into his suit pants, then it seems like you’re both dressed up for each other. And it’s a sweet fantasy, one that he wishes he could live in forever, when he sees you walk down to find Eren.

You’re always in dresses, and if not, then pretty skirts and sweaters, but for some reason this dress, today, has his eyes wide. Maybe it’s because the modest sundresses you wear around everyone aren’t meant to entice them, only meant to reiterate your position as the sweet little sister, but in this smooth, silky dress, that reaches just above your knees and stops just above your breasts, he knows you’re not dressing for anyone else but him. You wrap the jacket around you, it’s just a touch too chilly to go out without it, and Jean wants to let out an angry groan when he sees your skin disappear underneath the extra fabric.

You hug Eren goodbye, him only half paying attention as his thoughts are immersed in the stack of papers on his desk. You send a wave to Armin, who’s on the phone in the study beside Eren. He looks more frustrated by the second but still takes a moment to wave back and smile at you, before returning to his call.

Jean guides you to the car, opening the door for you and taking a look over his shoulder, making sure no one was lurking around, just like how he was supposed to. He settles in the back, beside you, even though Hannes would sit in the front, because he doesn’t want to let this opportunity go. You don’t seem to mind though, almost eagerly leaning into him.

“What’s so special about this thing, anyways?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. He just wants to hear your voice again.

“J-ean,” you groan, shoving his arm gently, teasingly. “It’s for all the kids on the Dean’s List, everyone who’s in the top quarter and doing well, and it’s important to me,” you say, stopping yourself as you take a moment to look into his eyes. You’re important to me, too, you want to add, but you can’t.

“I know, baby, s'important,” he responds, the pet name slipping in before he even registers it. Your eyes open a little wider, heart thumping a little faster, as you think about the four-letter word over and over again. Eren calls you princess, sure, when you’re being annoying, and as a result, Connie and Sasha and Armin have too on occasion. Marco steers clear of nicknames, too shy to even say your first name, calling you Ms. Yeager on the day he guarded you, making you feel elderly.

But baby. It’s so perfectly Jean, like of course you’re his baby, and no one else’s. Jean’s face is red, and he’s stammering with his words trying to explain himself, when your hand finds his and squeezes tightly. He doesn’t let go for the rest of the night.

You walk around the party, hand in hand, his slender fingers stroking over your knuckles and thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You see a lot of people, your friends and classmates, talking to everyone with a wide smile and introducing Jean to them, which makes his heart soar while he’s trying to stay calm. You get a little pin and a certificate, and even though you know it’s not that special, the way Jean’s looking at you makes you feel like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Like it is important, just because you achieved it and just because you’re you. You knew the banquet wouldn’t be anything exciting, you had really just wanted a reason to get out of the house and be yourself again, someone normal, but you don’t feel normal at all. You feel giddy, like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever and the time’s finally come, you’ve finally found the right guy for you. The one who makes every mundane moment exciting, the one who you want to tell everything to, the one who makes you feel like there’s nothing better you could do than just being yourself.

You make the decision, the one you’ve been thinking about all night, when Jean’s gone to the bar to get you a glass of water. You’re at the table, trying hard to pay attention to what Reiner and Bertholdt are talking about, but all your thoughts are preoccupied. Would he like it? Should I have worn something different? Oh god, is Eren still at home?

Reiner calling out your name jolts you back to reality, tearing your eyes away from Jean at the bar and focusing on the two boys in front of you, looking at you with anticipation.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bertholdt looks amused, while Reiner’s expression is more disheartened, somehow, though you don’t know why. Zoning out for a second is hardly a reason to get upset, but you ignore it, more excited for Jean to return than concerned with him.

“I asked how your semester’s going, that’s all,” Reiner says, with a renewed smile, his eyes flitting towards the bar you’ve been staring at just now, as if to make sure Jean was still there.

“It’s going alright,” you said, distracted again. You feel terrible, Reiner is a sweet guy and a nice friend, but with your mind made up, you wanted to get out of here more than you wanted to sit through a conversation with him. “I’m really sorry, I have to go now,” you say, standing up and wrapping the jacket around you again, as Reiner looks up at you, concerned.

“So soon? I thought it wasn’t over for another hour, right Bert?” Bertholdt hums in agreement, before nudging Reiner with his arm, glancing at Jean who was walking back with your drink.

“It is, but my big brother is really strict about curfew, so I think it’s better to head home early.” You’ve never been the most notorious liar, given that Eren could see right through your fibs on any day, but the words are coming to you and spilling out of your mouth so naturally, you almost believe them yourself. Your curfew isn’t for another hour and a half, and Eren looked so busy in his study earlier that he might not have even noticed if you were late, but you can’t wait much longer.

You glance back to see Jean, looking at you confused, when you look at him with big, doe eyes and the beginnings of a pout as you remind him about your curfew. Jean looks confused, almost upset because he doesn’t want to leave yet, not when the two of them are playing this game, acting like a couple and maybe it’s the way it feels so real, like a life that’s just within his grasp, only to see you pulling away.

“Eren said not to miss curfew, right, Jean?” you say, glancing back at Reiner who seems intent on keeping you here for another hour.

“He… he did, yeah.”

“We should go then, baby. Bye you guys, it was nice seeing you both—tell Annie I said bye,” and suddenly you’re pulling Jean by the arm to the door, Reiner murmuring his goodbye in the distance as you stand and wait for the valet and the driver.

Jean’s head is spinning, almost, wondering why you wanted to leave when it was going so well—and then addressing him by the nickname that started off the whole night, this whole little charade. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, clinging to his arm and leaning your head against him, waiting silently.

“'Thought you wanted to stay at this thing,” he starts quietly, feeling your head move to look up at him while he speaks. “Why’re you so eager to leave now? Was it—was it 'cause of me-” He’s cut off by the motion of you grabbing your phone, screen lighting up the darkness of the street.

“Eren said he and ‘Min had to go somewhere, and that you have to stay over until they get back. I just wanted to get as much time alone with you before they come...is that not okay?” you ask, just as quiet in your response, hesitant eyes looking at Jean’s in such a manner that he thinks he might melt right then and there. “You don’t have to, I can stay alone-”

“No. I want to,” he says, his grip a little tighter on you now, head and heart racing at the implication of being alone with you. “Jus'don’t lie to me, next time.”

You nod your head eagerly, quickly, afraid of making him upset ever again. You glance at Jean, his face lit by the moonlight and before you know it, you’re on your toes, pressing your lips against his. It’s everything you’ve wanted, even though it’s just for a few moments before you pull away, breathless. Jean’s looking at you in a way you can’t quite figure out, and the car is pulling up, and soon you’ll be inside with the driver, and you just can’t say this in front of him, so it’s now or never-

“Will you take my virginity?”

Jean chokes on the air in his lungs, causing you to widen your eyes and look at him so concerned, so worried, he needs you to look away or he’s never gonna be able to catch his breath again. “T-take—take your virginity—I can’t-”

And the expression on your face seems so hurt, he regrets even saying anything. It’s something akin to a form of betrayal, like you had finally raised the courage to ask because you thought he would say yes—because why would he say no? Why would he refuse you, when these last months the tension has just been building and building, piled so far and sucking in you in so deep that there’s not a moment that goes by without you thinking of Jean—but it’s over now. He doesn’t want to, it’s written so clearly on his face, and now it’s your turn to be upset.

Because of course he said no. Of course, even your special, different, not-like-the-others Jean only sees you as a crystalline object, ready to shatter at any given time and with the name Yeager engraved into your skin. There’s never a chance you’ll be anything but Eren’s little sister, the one he can’t touch and corrupt and defile, not when he doesn’t even think of you as autonomous. It’s the same as how everyone else sees you, property, not a person.

Your mouth falls open a little, like there’s something you could say to make this hurt go away, maybe take it back and pretend it was just a joke, but nothing comes out except a small whimper that crushes Jean’s heart, shatters it into a million little pieces on the pavement.

“The car’s here,” you say, swallowing your words and remorse painfully, getting into the backseat and closing the door before Jean even has a chance to open it for you, how he wanted to, how a gentleman would. He sits in the front, the driver taking off for the Yeager household, as an uncomfortable silence takes hold in the car. It’s so horrible, so different from the chatter and laughs you had shared with Jean just a few hours ago, but there’s nothing to do except blink away your tears.

Your head is filled with a hundred thoughts, all pounding against your skull, when you finally arrive home. All you want is to be in your bed, crying alone and without Jean’s eyes searing into you, you just want him gone, but the house is empty, you realize, walking to the front door.

Eren and Armin are gone, and you’re never, never, allowed to be home alone, especially at night. You know this, and Jean knows this, so you remain silent when he follows you into the house, scanning the street behind him as he closes the door, twisting the deadbolt and arming the security system as you dart up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knows he shouldn’t follow you, you need space and time to clear your head and bring yourself back down to reality. Of course, he had to say no, you had to understand that somewhere deep down. There’s not a single part of him, from his head that is constantly clouded with thoughts of you to his heart that races at the mention of your name, that doesn’t want you. That doesn’t want to be yours in every way, give you everything that you deserve.

But he can’t, not when your brother would put a bullet between Jean’s eyes the second he found out, and probably lock you up forever.

It’s more than that, too, it’s the way you deserve so much better than him. Someone who isn’t mixed up with all the wrong things, someone who doesn’t sleep next to a gun and now, after some time, pulls the trigger without any hesitation when he needs to. Someone without blood on his hands, someone who’s normal, who can give you a normal life and take you on normal dates, buy you all the expensive things you’re used to and treat you like a princess. He can’t do any of that.

That’s what he’s thinking about when he hears a thud come from your bedroom, one that could’ve been your phone falling or your shoes hitting the carpet, but still has him racing to your door, knocking quickly and calling out for you.

“Go away!” comes your voice from the other side of the door, quavering and with a sob between the words. He can almost see your face perfectly in his head, tears spilling down from puffy eyes and your soft lips in that pout, the one that breaks his heart. He hated it when you cried.

“Jus'-” he starts, but his own voice breaks off at the sound of you crying louder. “Just tell me you’re okay, please-” And he feels all of his willpower, all of his resolve fading away when he hears your footsteps walking closer to the door. He thinks you’re leaning your back against it, with the muffled way your sobs sound, as he holds his hand up to press against where you’d be.

“H-how can I be okay when you don’t even want me?”

Your voice is so quiet, so shaky, he has to force himself to listen over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. He’s trembling too, fist and jaw clenched so tightly they’re already sore, and he doesn’t have the words to tell you that you can’t say things like that.

Because they aren’t true, not a word of them. How does he explain to you that he wants you more than anything else in his silly little life, wants you so badly he thinks it’d be worth dying over, just to spend a few hours in heaven with you, no matter the hell Eren will give him.

“And here—ha, 'ere I was thinking you knew me, baby,” he says, putting all his weight against the door. The laugh he forced out is choked and sincere and painful. “How can ya think I don’t want you? I want you so much it’s eatin' me from the inside out. There’s nothing else I think about, nothing else I care about—but you deserve so much better than me. If I-” there’s the laugh again, because even saying the words aloud is painful, “If I took your virginity, you’d regret it forever.”

Fresh, hot tears run down your face at the sound of Jean’s words, each sentence emitting a new broken gasp from you. He’s so wrong, so incredibly wrong it makes you want to punch him until your fists are bloody and bruised, and kiss him until there’s nothing left in your mouth except the taste of Jean. How are you supposed to prove to him that he’s just described the way you’ve been feeling since you met him? That it feels like he knows you better than you know yourself, like there’s a piece of your soul inside him?

“J-Jean?” you cry out again, hand hovering over the doorknob.

“Yeah, baby?”

“If- if you take my virginity, will you regret it?”

Jean feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Of course not. I could die happy, I think.” And for some reason, that’s all you need to hear, fingers working nimbly to unlock your door and open it suddenly, only to be greeted with the sight of Jean that you’ve been avoiding all night, tousled hair and his dress shirt with the first two buttons undone, his own eyes a little watery and that smile, the one that makes you feel like Jean will give you the whole world if you asked for it.

Your arms stretch out for him before you can even realize what’s happening, feeling Jean fall into them and his lips press against yours, and suddenly everything is falling into place. How could this be so wrong, you think, opening your mouth to let Jean’s tongue roam your mouth, when it feels so right?

And it does feel right, the way Jean’s hands feel on your waist, one eventually moving to stroke your back and find the small zipper of your dress, pushing it down to expose more of your skin. You don’t want him to stop kissing you, because the feeling of his mouth on yours is comparable to being able to breathe for the first time. And you can’t think of anything else, not the way you were crying just minutes ago or the repercussions you’ll face tomorrow, no, none of it is clouding your mind anymore.

It’s all clear now, with every touch of Jean’s hands on your hot skin. You let out a cry when he pulls away from your lips, so eager and excited that you don’t want him to stop, but it quickly shifts into a moan when you feel his mouth on your neck.

“Be patient, baby, I’m doing this for you,” he whispers along the column of your neck, placing hot, wet kisses up to your jaw, before his mouth finally settles on a soft, unscathed area that he marks up. Your moans only get louder, hands settling on Jean’s arms to ground yourself because you’re already bucking up at nothing, stomach tense and tight already.

It feels so different, so much stronger than how it feels when you touch yourself late at night, covering your own hand over your mouth when you cry out Jean’s name as you cum. You almost forget that you don’t have to be quiet tonight, moaning Jean’s name loudly as he continues his path of kissing. He reaches your collarbones, fiddling with the strappy sleeves of your dress to get it off and away, and he knows he succeeded when he’s greeted with black lace covering your breasts.

He’s so eager, yet the sight of the set you have on—for him, a voice in his head reminds him—has him stopping entirely, eyes taking in the sight before him. The girl of his dreams, a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, looking so beautiful that he wants to take a photo so he can remember this moment, this feeling forever.

“Jean-!” you moan again, head turning away from his as you feel your face heat up uncomfortably. You want this, you know you do, you’d even picked out the set specifically for him, after hours of debating between colors and fabrics and styles, but nothing could have prepared you for the look in Jean’s eyes. It was pure lust, all desire and hunger and want mixing together in a dangerous way.

His hand on your jaw brings your eyes together again, and you think you might sink through the bed straight into the floor with the intensity of his gaze.

“Did'ya wear this just for me?” he asks in a low voice. He knows the answer, but he needs to hear you say it.

“Yes, Jean, for you,” you whisper back, leaning into his touch. He releases another low groan, almost a growl with how rough it is, as you gasp at the feeling of him yanking off your dress. You feel heat radiating through every part of your body, from your feet all the way to the tips of your ears, as Jeans eyes rake up and down your body, taking it all in. You mumble something incoherent as you reach for Jean’s hands, wanting to feel his touch on you again as well as his gaze, when hovers over you and just ghosts his lips over the valley of your breasts.

“You have to use 'yer words, baby, I’m not a mind-reader,” he whispers along the smooth skin, trailing kisses down your stomach and dangerously close to your core, exactly where you want him. You throw your head back and moan loudly at the feeling of Jean’s lips pressing against your clothed core, the words you wanted to say getting jumbled in your head.

He is a mind reader, you think, thighs trembling as Jean just barely grazes his nose over your clit, because he knows exactly what you want, he just refuses to comply.

“P-please, Jean, please kiss me-” you let out, whimpering and moaning desperately as your hips buck again, only to be held down by one of Jean’s large hands.

“Kiss you? Where, baby? Here?” He presses one kiss to your inner thigh. “Here?” Another right below your belly button, making your stomach twist hotly. “Or, right here, maybe? Hm?” Jean’s lips press down on your clothed clit, making sparks fly all through your body at the new sensation. It’s already too much, though it’s barely anything, as you scream out his name.

“There! There, please, there!” It’s desperate, and wanton, but you don’t care, not when you’re so close to feeling so good.

“Only because you said please, baby,” he says, letting out a laugh against your core. You feel his nimble fingers slide down your panties, the ones that match the bra and cost a fortune, and throw them aside somewhere. You feel the blood rushing through your body, heating up again at the very idea of Jean seeing you like this, completely exposed, when his tongue finds your clit and suddenly every other thought in your head melts away.

Your hips should be in the air, you think, with the way you’re thrashing around, but Jean’s hand is firm. He keeps you down while his mouth continues his work, hot tongue working against your clit and every little motion causing you to scream out in pleasure. You’ve never felt anything like this before, no, your pillow and small fingers could never compare to this, and it’s entirely too much, you think, with the way your core is uncoiling in that familiar way when Jean teases your fluttering hole with a single finger.

You clench up while moaning out his name over and over again, fingers finding their way through his hair and gripping much too tightly when he slowly pushes a finger in but his tongue isn’t easing up on your clit—and before you know it, you’re gushing all over Jean’s mouth, crying out and moaning and then going very still.

You have to catch your breath, because it’s not even close to over, no, when Jean’s mouth finds its way to yours again, kissing you deeply and taking away any chance of breathing normally. When he pulls away, your eyes are closed, but a soft, sloppy kiss to your cheek makes them open again.

And the way Jean’s looking at you, like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be and no one else he’d rather be with, it takes your breath away all over again.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re thinking, head all fuzzy and hazy from your intense orgasm, when you reach out for Jean and begin undoing the buttons on his shirt. You’re fumbling, getting a few open before giving up and moving your hands down to his belt, pulling quickly to get it off, and you just want him.

“Hey, hey, what did I say about being patient, hm?” he questions, taking your two hands and holding them just tightly enough to keep you from moving back to undo his pant’s buttons.

“J-ean-” you groan loudly, stretching out the word. “I’ve been patient enough, please—I just want to feel you, please-” You’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but the sound and sight of it is sweet enough to get Jean to cave.

“I have to make sure you’re ready for me, baby, otherwise it’s not gonna be all that fun,” he says, moving his hand to your slit again, as you gasp the feeling. It’s still sensitive, but you’re so ready, you can hardly bring yourself to care.

Jean’s lips meet yours, letting you moan into his mouth as he slips a finger into you, stretching your tight cunt in just the right way, making your toes curl. He adds another quickly, and the feeling is so different, you grip the sheets tighter with every thrust and curl of his fingers. When you feel three prod up against your hole, you pull away from his swollen lips, throwing your head back onto the pillow and letting out an incredibly loud moan. Your stomach is tensing up again, and you know a few more strokes of Jean’s long, lean fingers will have you cumming again in seconds if he keeps going, his palm grazing your sensitive clit with each motion.

“Are you gonna cum again, baby? So soon? Cum for me, angel,” he whispers in your ear, mouth on your pulse point and sucking, fingers working seamlessly, as your second orgasm washes over you. You’re unsure of how loud you’re being, your screams being swallowed by Jean’s mouth on yours, as he continues fingering you through it. Your thighs are shaking, entire body taut until you finally relax, almost collapsing back into Jean’s arms.

Praise falls from his lips as you try again uselessly to steady your breathing. You can’t imagine that you look very pretty now, covered in sweat and your own wetness, breathless and limp-bodied, yet still wanting more, but Jean doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. You gaze into those warm, honey eyes again, so desperate for Jean and wanting so badly for him to be inside you, but you can’t find the words to ask for it.

It’s okay though, since Jean’s a bit of a mind-reader after all. He lets you stay silent as he positions you, moving your body for you and shedding his clothes to the floor. He takes his painfully hard cock in his hand, stroking a few times before lining himself up to your slit.

You’re watching, breathless and body almost vibrating, so ready for this, for him, finally, when you move your eyes up just a bit to lock eyes with Jean again. It’s then, when your gaze is on each other, that he finally pushes into your tight, wet cunt.

You gasp at the feeling almost immediately, because three fingers is nothing compared to the girth of Jean’s cock. You’re moaning desperately, it’s not as painful as you’d imagined, as some of your friends had made it seem, just stretching you out in a way you hadn’t thought was possible. Jean’s slow, not rushing, moving little by little despite how badly he wants to bottom out, see you impaled on his cock.

“J-Jean, Jean-! More, please,” you beg, seeing his lust-blown eyes as he hesitates. You’re not hesitant at all, though. How could you be, when this is the first time something’s felt so inherently right in your life, like there’s no one else who could have done this?

He’s almost all the way in, his hips just barely grazing yours, as you take a deep breath and get used to the feeling. You reach your hands out again to bring Jean down to you, needing to feel Jean kissing you so badly you think you might die if he doesn’t, and when his lips finally meet yours, you know he’s all the way in, gasping into his mouth.

Jean starts off slow, shallow little thrusts because he’s so scared—not even of hurting you, because he knows you want this, just scared. As though if he goes too quickly or moves too fast it would all be over, this special moment between the two of you, a moment you’ll never have with anyone else. He doesn’t want it to end, not never, because he feels like he could spend forever inside of you.

But then you’re crying out, pleading for more, and his hips are snapping at a faster pace than he thought was possible. He’s filling you up so perfectly, every ridge and vein of his cock making you see stars, his hot mouth latching onto your nipple and flicking with his tongue, the grazes on your clit from his thrusts—it’s all too much, and you’re screaming when you cum this time, fluttering and clenching around him so tightly, every inch of your body filled with a white-hot fire.

And it’s his name falling from your lips over and over again, just his, the single word he’s heard as a gasp, a moan, a scream, and it’s what he hears when he increases his pace once more, hips twitching and finally your name spilling from his lips, as he finishes inside you, hot ropes of cum covering your walls, dripping from your cunt as he finally pulls out.

You let out a content hum as you feel Jean relax next to you, his hand trailing up and down your back. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to tell him, but you’re about to fall asleep. You want him to stay beside you forever, but you know it’s a useless request. There’s a part of Jean’s soul inside you too, and you know what he’s going to tell you, what he’s thinking.

You wish it was different, you wish Jean didn’t have to leave, but it’s not, and he does.

“Baby-”

“It’s okay, Jean.”

His head turns from staring at the ceiling to meet your watery eyes.

“Y'know I love you, right?” And it’s the look in his eyes, and the softness of his voice that makes the tears finally spill out, because you know you love him too.

“Of course I do,” you whisper back, hand finding him and squeezing softly, your own little way of saying it back.

“Y'know we can’t be together… I know it too. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, okay?”

You move your head onto Jean’s chest, snuggling into his side and playing with his fingers. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get a chance to be this close to him again, and you want to remember everything about it. The way his cologne smells, how his skin feels against yours, the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“I know.” Your voice is incredibly quiet. You don’t wanna cry again, you know Jean hates it, and you don’t want this to be harder than it already is.

“Promise me you won’t be upset…and that you’ll find a nice, normal guy to be with, hm? And ya won’t waste any more time thinking about me. And you’ll let yourself be happy with him..” Jean trails off, and you’re thankful that he does. You don’t want to think about it at all, being with someone who’s not Jean, and you can feel more tears threatening to spill over at the very idea of it.

But you still nod your head, humming in agreement and sniffling, using the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear as you whisper back that you promise.

You and Jean lay beside each other for a while, in a comfortable, warm silence that you never want to depart from. When you’re just about to fall asleep, you feel him press a kiss to your forehead and get out of the bed, getting dressed in his clothes and closing your door softly. You’re asleep before you hear him whisper goodbye.

…

You’re not sure when Eren returned home that night, or when Jean left. You wake up alone, sore but in the best way when you remember the events of last night. And it’s strange, really, the feeling in your chest.

You’d thought losing your virginity would leave you feeling differently, closer to hollow and empty, like something was taken from you, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. The memory of giving it to Jean, being wrapped in his embrace, letting him find out things about your body that no one else knows, it makes you smile without thinking about it.

You push away the nagging feeling in your chest that won’t leave through the next few weeks, the one that reminds you you’ll never get to be with him again, that he won’t be your boyfriend and take you on dates and share nights like that again. It reminds you, painfully, that no one can ever know what you and Jean have, that the longing looks and wistful gazes you two shared for the last six months might continue on forever. It reminds you of your promise, the one where you said you’d find someone normal and make it last, and at least try to be happy.

It nags and nags and nags, until there’s nothing left to think about except the pieces of the life you know you can’t have, with the boy you can’t have.

You wonder if it’ll ever get easier, watching Jean talking to Marco and Connie, deep in conversation about something you don’t know and probably won’t find out, when you swing by to bring Eren lunch. You had feared that your big brother might notice something was different about you, that something had changed, but he hadn’t, at least not yet.

Everything was the same, for the most part, except this promise in your life that you want to uphold so badly. You want to give Jean the peace of knowing that you’re happy with someone else, just like how you want him to be happy too. You want to make it work, replace every thought about him in your head with someone else, and maybe one day it won’t feel like pretending anymore, like a game, and then you’ll have kept your promise.

That’s what you're thinking when Reiner stops you on your way out of class one day. It’s sudden, and you’re surprised because you’ve never given much thought to Reiner in that way, never really spoken to him besides small talk before lecture started.

He’s asking you out, in the sweet, polite way you know a good guy would. There’s no pressure to say yes, and he wants to take you to dinner on Saturday night, not just to a party or to hang out, and you know he’s exactly the kind of guy Eren might approve of for you.

You agree, your thumping heart making the decision for you before your mind can protest, and you tell him Saturday works, forgetting that everyone’s coming over for dinner, and you allow yourself, just for a second, to think that this is what Jean wants.

And Jean watches, heart churning painfully, as you press a chaste kiss to the blond boy’s cheek. The boy you ignored for the most part on that night at the college, despite how many conversations he tried to start up and fond gazes he gave you. He seems like a good kid though, this Reiner.

Picked you up at six on the dot, walked to the door and shook hands with Eren, placing a delicate bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper in your arms and smiling wide as you brought them inside. He even opened the car door for you, probably opened it again at the restaurant and pulled out your seat for you, the whole nine yards.

He did all of it, everything Jean couldn’t, and now, watching him walk you to your doorstep and get that kiss, the one that Jean so desperately wants, he knows for a fact that this is the kind of guy you deserve to be with. Not someone with blood on his hands and bruised knuckles perpetually covered in gunshot residue, like him. Someone who can give you the sort of picture-perfect life you deserve. He swallows hard as the next few words he thinks really take a hold on him, knowing they’re true—that guy will never be him.

No one questions why Jean takes off right as you get home, why his jaw has been clenched all night, why he’s tapping his foot and playing with his hands like he’s coming down from some high. Because it’s kind of true, he is coming down, coming down from the high of realizing that everything in life is easier said than done. It was so easy, so painfully easy, to tell you to find a good guy and be happy and forget about him, and so, so incredibly hard to watch it happen.

And Jean thinks the way to avoid it is to stay away from you, like that would somehow ease the pain of listening to Sasha tell Connie about your new boyfriend, who’s so handsome and from a good family, and looks like he’s really making you happy.

He stays away, and you think that it’s helping you too, as if avoiding him is going to make it work with Reiner.

And you try to make it work with Reiner, truly you do, to the best of your ability. You try to listen to him talk and respond how you know he wants you to—enthusiastically and happily, as though there’s nothing you want to hear about more than his classes and the job he has lined up after graduation.

You try to encourage the kisses you share in his car after dessert, his lips tasting sweet and this touch just slightly too gentle—you’re not made of glass, you want to say. But you can’t.

Because there’s nothing Reiner could do, nothing you could say and nothing he could change about himself that would make him Jean.

That’s the cruel joke, isn’t it? You’re pleading with yourself internally, desperate to move on from the one you know you can’t have, only to find him everywhere. Jean’s infiltrated your thoughts like a parasite you just can’t be free of, like a hangover that won’t go away. He’s in everything, from the stranger in your class who has the same honey eyes and crooked smile, to the almost comforting scent of his menthols that lingers on the couch after he’s been in your house.

He’s everywhere, and there’s nowhere you can go to avoid him, and you’re trying so desperately to want Reiner instead, but it’s just useless, and despite how much you promised you won’t break your promise to Jean, it happens anyways.

It’s another pretty day when it does, when you tell Reiner how it’s just not working out and it’s not him, but rather you, and you’re tearing up at his sincere, gentle expression telling you that it’s okay. And it’s terrible, how you’re not crying for him, but rather for Jean, because it’s going to be even worse facing him now.

You’ve been trying to do it all, the normal life where you see your friends and waste Eren’s money on useless things, but it all just stops at once. You drag yourself home after school, getting out of the car and into your bed almost robotically, crying into your pillow for a hundred different reasons but making sure there’s no sign of your tears when Eren comes home.

It’s around noon that you get dropped off, Hannes and the driver taking away because Eren’s supposed to be home today, his car’s parked and the house isn’t armed so he must be. You have to be careful, then, to avoid casting any suspicion about yourself and avoid the questions you know will come torrentially if Eren catches you crying. You pray he’s in the study, trying to get to your room as quickly as possible when you hear Jean’s voice for the first time in weeks. It stops you in your tracks.

“You’re home early,” he says, hands in his pockets and looking more like a college boy than a gang member. He could easily pass for a cute stranger in your lecture, dressed casually and no sign of his revolver on his person, though you know it’s underneath his sweater, tucked behind his back.

Don’t cry, for god’s sake, don’t cry, you tell yourself, though all you’ve been doing is crying.

“Y-yeah, I-” you stop short, unsure of what you’re going to say. I don’t feel like hanging out with anyone anymore. I had to stop seeing Reiner because he’s not you. Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

It’s okay, though, because Jean always knows a little bit of what you’re thinking.

“Eren said you’ve been goin' out more, lately, with the blond, right? I didn’t think you’d be here at this time, I’m just waitin' for-”

“I’m not- I’m not with him anymore.”

“Oh.” It’s quiet, almost like there’s nothing else to say, nothing else to add.

“I know that’s the kind of guy I should be with, but it didn’t work out.” You’re not sure where you’re finding the strength to say these words.

“Did he do somethin'-?” Jean’s words are quick, almost like he’s been waiting for a reason to get angry at your picture-perfect boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, now.

“No! No, it’s not like that. It’s just-” you breathe, and it feels like breathing for the first time again. “He’s not you. No one is you, Jean, and even if I spend the rest of my life with a good guy, he’ll never be you. And I know it’s selfish of me to be like this, and I know it’s not easy, but I can’t pretend anymore, I can’t keep your promise when the only person I want is you, so-”

You’re interrupted by Jean’s lips crashing onto yours, so surprised, in fact, you let out a squeal. And it feels so natural, so easy to kiss him, and you’ve missed it so much, you don’t let him pull away for a breath.

His hands on your skin, his body against yours, all of it, it’s the only thing that’s ever felt this right, and it’s all you can think about, leading him up to your bedroom.

You want to say something, tell Jean that you can’t do this again if you just have to be apart in the end, anyways, but it’s almost magic, the way he knows what you’re thinking before you say it.

“Be mine,” he pants against your lips, as you fumble with his sweater until it’s discarded on the floor, “forever, please-”

“I already am, Jean,” you cry into his kisses, not even sure when your clothes left your body. All you can think about is him, being inside you, being yours, not afraid to break you because he knows you better than you know yourself. And you love every minute of it, his teeth sinking into the supple skin of your neck, fingers holding onto your thighs almost bruising so, thrusting into you at an incredible pace that makes you cry out, not caring who hears.

It’s everything, and nothing all at once, because Jean doesn’t have to do anything to be yours, he just is. So innately, so naturally, you wonder how you went all these years of your life without him.

You lay on his chest, quiet sighs leaving your mouth as you hold Jean’s hand tightly, not willing to let go for even a second, despite how you know he’s not going anywhere.

“We have to tell Eren,” he says, and you groan into his side, latching your smaller hand around two of his fingers and observing the difference in size. You have forever to do this, but you can’t help it.

“Fine. I’ll tell him- but I want to meet your mom,” you say, smiling against his skin as Jean squeezes your hand.

“Of course. Marco too, he’ll kill me.”

“If Armin doesn’t get to you, first.”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s worth it. I have you now.”

#this is so good omg #tori fanfic recs #you’ll regret not reading this yall

854 notes · View notes