WHERE IS THAT JEAN AUGUST INSPIRED FIC I CANT FIND IT PLS HELP ME

WHERE IS THAT JEAN AUGUST INSPIRED FIC I CANT FIND IT PLS HELP ME

i remember this being the reason why i got back into reading fanfics 🥺 so beautifully written and one of the best fics ive read. still heartbroken author discontinued the fic 🥺

a line without a hook

pairing. levi ackerman x fem!reader

synopsis. Had you known that such a mysterious, brooding man would throw you into a series of unfortunate events, maybe you wouldn’t have saved him from the women crowding him into a corner that night at the first ball of the season.

But had you known that you, of all the women who had fawned over him and begged to be spared at least a glance from someone as beautiful as Levi Ackerman, were the only one who had ever felt the warmth of him smile.  

So maybe, just maybe, all the chaos that had been birthed from your first meeting was worth it. All the blood that had been spilled and the tears that have been shed was all worth it.

tags. 19th century!au, angst, fluff, swearing, slight suggestive themes, kinda slow burn, mentions of violence, slight themes of misogyny, age gap

notes. did i write this because i couldn’t stop binge watching pride and prejudice? oh, most definitely. do i have any shame that i recite lines to myself? kinda…just kinda. 

chapters

part one.  “do you dance, mr. ackerman?” 

part two. “i have a proposition to make.” 

part three. “merely tolerable, really.” 

part four. “what have i discovered? very little.” 

part five. “what a shame for i dearly love to laugh.” 

part six. “i cannot accept you.” 

part seven. “doors are meant to be knocked on, mr. ackerman.”

part eight. “don’t be mean.” 

part nine. “what business do you have with me?” 

part ten. “she’s safely hidden in my heart.” 

part eleven. “am i to be held accountable?”

part twelve. “once upon a dream…” 

part thirteen. “i see you’ve kept your promise.” 

*posting begins 02/13/21 and every saturday onwards

*tag list is open!

copyright © 2021 tamagochiie, all works and writing are reserved.

tag list: @castellandiangelo @astronomyturtle @regalillegal @oshuncheyenne @drapetomaniaac  @whalerus @hinaamaya @ggsmashgg  @kyosugi92 @daikushiji @acker-baby @lundabean @moonxochu @melodiamore​ @unlikelyfestivalshepherdhuman @osmosly @halparkebitch​​ @leashaoki @bonkybabe @myeg1993 @chikenbitches @kinda-sleepy @omlbarnes @pukahanchan @ahtsumumiya @idiotic–punk @megumiisee @arthemus-o-negative @primusk​ @meazrahhh​

In case anyone is having a bad night:

Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found

Here are some fun sites

Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics

Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli

Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies

*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*

You’ll be okay, friend <3

"You're taking fucking forever in there."

You ignore Levi's irritated comment as you fiddle with the buckles on your shoes, too tiny to clasp easily and at a part of your ankle that requires your legs to be both tilted and bent to access them. A lethal combination in opposition to your dexterity.

"Are you sewing that dress by hand or what?"

His voice is nearer to your bedroom door now, a little bit more difficult to tune out with only the thin wood between you.

"No, my little mice helpers are doing that for me while I sing to them," you call back, but your words are light and flippant where his were heavy with the weight of his impatience.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you did have your own army of vermin with the amount of junk you've got in this apartment." You can't see Levi's face but you know he's looking around your living room with his nose crinkled in the particular way he does when he finds something distasteful.

You scoff as you finally succeed in doing up your second buckle. You lift your head so you can snap your rebuttal directly towards your closed door.

"Sorry we can't all live like minimalist monks!"

Levi snorts in reply. "I'm hardly a minimalist, I just don't accumulate needless things."

"You only own one bowl, one plate, and one mug."

You've known Levi since college, and you're fairly certain he has the same amount of possessions filling the entirety of his one-bedroom apartment that he did in his one-room dorm a decade prior. Probably the same ones, too.

"That way no one ever tries to come over for meals, it's clever."

"It's spartan."

There's a light thump on the other side of your door, and you wonder what it may have been.

"Didn't you ever read those Marie Kondo books?" Levi's voice is impossibly close now, like he's got his forehead pressed to your door. The thump makes a little more sense.

You laugh a bit to yourself as you imagine the way he's slumped against the expanse of wood, long-dressed in his suit and ready to go where you've taken your time getting ready. It's not your fault Levi showed up thirty minutes earlier than he said he would to pick you up for the company party your shared workplace was throwing that evening--though you should have expected it, given he's never been tardy to anything in the entire time the two of you had been friends.

"Can't say I did," you reply as you cross your bedroom, leaning over in your mirror to get one last close-up look at your face. You run your thumbnail against the edge of your bottom lip where your gloss was slightly ill-applied. "Why do you ask?"

"S'all that," Levi sighs, "'spark joy' bullshit. Don't keep things in your space if they don't make you happy or whatever."

You smile at your own reflection, eyes flickering to the image of your bedroom door you can see in the glass.

"And what if all my 'junk' makes me happy?"

There's some shuffling, and a moment later Levi mutters: "How can an issue of a magazine from 2010 make you happy?"

You suspect he's plucked an old copy of some fashion magazine off the stack resting on the bookshelf beside your door. You've actually been meaning to throw those away for a while, but you don't tell him that.

"How can you manage to not find happiness in anything?"

"That's not true," he argues.

"Oh yeah?" you counter, adjusting the way your necklace is resting against your collarbones. "Name something that you keep around just because it makes you happy."

"My kettle."

"Nope," you answer immediately, grabbing your purse off the end of your bed and heading towards the door, "that serves a practical, utilitarian purpose. I mean something useless that you just like. Just something you think is pretty."

You grasp the handle and pull it open, and you take Levi by surprise--he barely catches himself with a hand on either side of the door frame to keep from crashing into you.

There's a little pink mark at the centre of his brow where he'd been leaning against the door, and his eyes are wide.

"You ready to go?" you ask him, tucking your bag under your arm.

He's frozen, his expression still a little taken aback.

"What?" you ask him, suddenly self conscious. Your hands tug at the material of your dress nervously. "Should I change?"

"No," he says, soft but sure. "You look... fine."

Your face pinches.

"Fine?"

"Nice," Levi corrects himself, finally looking away. He fiddles with the stack of magazines he'd been complaining about moments prior. "You look nice."

"Wow, Ackerman, with compliments like that it's shocking that you have to take your best friend as your date to the company party and not one of the countless women I'm sure are knocking at your door."

Levi narrows his eyes, tossing you a withering look.

"You're the one who said we should go together."

"That's because I want to blackout at the open bar, and you're the only person I know who turns down a drink on the corporate dollar," you say with a bright smile.

Levi tuts in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes wandering away from you again. "Charming."

A beat of silence passes.

Levi sucks in a little breath.

"You."

"Pardon?" you ask, and not even because he said it so quietly you barely understood him, but because it doesn't quite make sense.

"Something I keep around just because I like it," Levi says, his eyes fixed so intently on the outdated magazine stack that you're surprised the pages don't burst into flames. "Just because it makes me happy..."

Your heart stutters in its rhythm, a sudden weakness in your knees you can't chalk up to the height of your heels as easily as you may have liked to.

"...Just because it's pretty."

You swallow thickly.

His eyes meet yours.

The time and space between the two of you is thick and sweet like honey, and you wade through it slowly as you fight to find your words. You swear you can almost taste it as your tongue peeks out to moisten your already glossy lips.

"We should probably go," you say quietly, reaching out to adjust the lapel of Levi's suit. If your touch lingers a moment longer than it ought to, if your fingers brush against him in a way that friends' shouldn't, neither of you says anything about it.

Levi nods and clears his throat, taking the slightest step away from you towards your front door. "We gotta get you back before midnight after all, Cinderella."

You blink, a little confused, a little dazed, a little bit of a head rush still clouding your thoughts.

"The mice, remember?" Levi offers when he sees your curious look, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Oh," you laugh, letting your head hang as you nod slightly. "Right."

The two of you make your way down to the parking lot outside of your apartment building towards Levi's car, and you watch as the lights flash when he unlocks it.

"I've got two mugs, by the way," Levi says as he pulls the driver's side door open, and you pause with your hand on the handle of your own. He looks at you over the roof of his car, his eyes suddenly firmer than you'd seen them all night. More insistent. More sure.

You tilt your head, confused.

He ducks down to slide into his seat, but not before calling back to you one last time:

"The other one is yours."

thinking about jean kirstein and how pathetically romantic he is.

the way he admires your beauty as you rest peacefully next to him, head resting against his shoulder. the way you always have his full attention when you’re speaking to him. and the way he holds you oh-so-tenderly, fingers grazing along your skin, treating your body as if it was sculpted by the gods– and as far as he’s concerned, you were.

word count: 0.5k

Keep reading

Blooming Hearts

Jean Kirstein x gender neutral! reader (they/them pronouns used) mini series, reincarnation au.

summary : you never thought that some freshly bloomed flowers and newly brewed coffee would help you meet the one person you desperately wanted to meet.

warnings : some angst

a/n : working on the next chapter of only you, darling next! sorry this took so long, I've been kinda busy lately. this is also the second last chapter of this fic :) this chapter isn't really as good as compared to the others, i just wanted to get it out as soon as I could. oh, and also, you can find the Series Masterlist linked in my main Masterlist. tumblr's tagging system sucks so I'm trying to not put links to old Tumblr posts to see if that helps. thank you for all the patience and kind words!

enter my taglist!

| Main Masterlist is pinned | Fic playlist | requests for jean kirstein and five hargreeves are open! |

--

Chapter Four - Wilting

You gasped, collecting your breath as your shoulders shook from the amount of giggling you were doing.

You shouldn’t have been here, like this, but who would care, right? You deserved this.

You raised your head, wide smile still etched on your face. Jean’s face was mirroring yours, his left hand propped up behind you.

You had been doing your normal chores, going to attend the horses at the stables, holding a large brush in an even larger bucket.

It was a comparatively hot day, hot enough to make a good amount of sweat collect on your forehead. Armin, Mikasa, Eren, Historia and Jean were attending a meeting with the seniors of the scouts. It was almost surreal, the way Marco predicted the fact that Jean would be a leader some day, and here he was, now sitting as a commanding officer. Sasha was probably with Niccolo, and Connie had just left to visit his mom in the now abandoned village as he always did once a month, which left you to do some much needed cleaning around Historia’s cabin.

Historia hadn’t gotten around much, after reading the last letter Ymir ever sent to her, spending much of her time on the porch of her cabin that was used as an orphanage, going inside to interact with the kids once in a while.

The loss of a close loved one does that to people, you thought, chugging the bucket with difficulty.

Suddenly, you had felt a harsh tug on your sleeve, making you jerk to the right.

Your back pressed against the wood on the side of the stable, a shadow overcoming your figure. Your first instinct was to fight them off but as soon as you opened your eyes, you found the familiar charming smile that had first made you fall.

Eyes shimmering, Jean greeted you with a slight laugh at your appearance, for which you did slap his chest. He proceeded to tell you the most hilarious thing that had taken place during the meeting, which happened to be a higher up… farting.

“walls, it wasn’t even that funny, Jean.” You lied, smiling. “I applaud your story telling skills for keeping me hooked, though, 6/10”

“oh, do I get extra points for being so damn good looking?” he asks slyly, attempting to wink but ending up blinking instead, which sent you into yet another laughing fit.

You swore it was the most you’d laughed since Sasha went apeshit on that food Niccolo made, which was about a month ago.

you collected your breath again, finding Jean's hand which was resting next to your face, propped up on the wood. Your head rolled to the side, resting on his forearm.

His eyes were twinkling, a soft look on his face.

“there was… an attempt to wink. I mean, you tried, right?” you said teasingly, shrugging a little at the end.

“uh huh, and what would your grace, the almighty (y/n) rate this, out of a ten?” he asks.

“hmm, probably a 2/10. Not bad, Kirstein. You’d pick up all the girls in town with that.” You say.

He stands up straight at that, removing his hand from it’s previous position, opting to cup your cheeks gently instead.

He brought his nose closer to yours, till they were touching. You felt his nose move as he said, “i don’t need them to look at me when I have you.”

And with that, he kisses you.

Stable duties long forgotten, you kiss him back, hands wandering to the nape of his neck.

He pulls away, “missed you. the meeting was pretty boring without you. and Sasha and Connie, but don’t tell them I told you that.” His face is still close to yours, you feel his lips moving right over your parted ones.

“well I missed you too. Connie just left to visit his ma,” you say, “but I was gonna clean the stables… if you wanna help? Or we can just go home and take a shower and then have an early dinner… relax a bit.” You say, looking into his eyes which light up on the sound of a shower and dinner with you.

“i'd love that.” He said, pulling you in for another kiss

--

you had a noticeable skip in your step as you entered the flower shop.

Jean’s eyes locked on yours, your eyes shining, smile wide, as you greeted him with that all-consuming warmth.

It was consuming Jean, too, but he refused to acknowledge it.

He refused anything to do with you, which absolutely killed him. It had taken him a while to start warming up to Marco and Sasha when he first met them as well, but he didn’t think how hard it would be with you. he had assumed everything with you would have been the same, easy and comfortable yet adventurous and brand new, despite being such an old and tight tie.

His eyes remained to be steely, as he let out the most monotonous “hey,” he could find in him, which still sounded weak in his ears.

Your spirits weren’t deflated yet, though, as you browsed the shop a little. Jean used these moments to admire you, before you made your way to the counter.

“so… I don’t really have any flowers in mind today, so what would you recommend, flower boy?” you asked, placing his hands on the counter, close to his.

His chest tingled. His heart futtered. He could feel his ears heating up at the mere nickname.

He snatched his hands so they were now crisscrossed over his tingling chest, “I don’t know. You should’ve thought about that before coming here.”

The urge to use your special nickname he curated for you was strong, but Jean didn’t give in.

That was one thing about Jean Kirsten: he was stubborn. And he was confident about his stubborn-ness too, which only inflated his ego, puffing his chest a bit.

But now all his chest seemed to be doing was deflating, giving you the treatment he knew you wouldn’t like, nor deserve.l

He saw your shoulders deflate as well, which, again, nothing short of killed him.

You let out a little laugh to get rid of the tension in the room. You weren’t expecting this, it seemed, and understandably so.

Jean wanted nothing but to give you a small bouquet of dandelions, delicately tied with some baby’s breaths, all with a kiss to your knuckles while handing them to you just to see your flustered reaction.

“well, then, I’ll just take five of the… blue violets.” You said, small smile still on your face. You looked more pristine than usual, and Jean wondered if you were going to go do something after this.

Oh, right. He was supposed to leave with you today, to go hang out with Marco and the others.

The day was planned more for you, more for you to catch up with your friends and make even new memories, plan more days.

Only now, seeing how had it was to face you, did Jean realise how much he was going to dread today.

He silently rung your five blue violets up, tying them before handing them to you. The transaction took about five minutes, but they felt like eternity as he tried not to look at your eyes or smell your perfume too much.

Did you change it? It smelled… better, Jean thought. He liked it.

This was exactly what he was dreading.

--

The walk with Jean had been nothing short of boring. A little disappointing, too.

You assumed now, knowing your… soulmate, essentially, would be liberating. And it was! When he held you the other week, everything seemed fine, you felt so whole and complete.

Yet now, you were walking side to side to an absolute stranger who seemed to want nothing to do with you.

The physical part of it was nice, you thought, walking next to someone never felt this good before. All your old feelings revived at his mere presence and you wondered how all it took was his name for your mind to immediately know who he was. Nevertheless, your stride matched his, your feet making a unanimous sound as they scruffed the pavement.

You decided ten minutes into your little walk that you’d give up trying to make conversation with him, which broke your heart just a little.

The sky looked like it was going to rain, as you cursed yourself for not bringing an umbrella.

Flowers still in your hand, you made your way to sasha’s dorm which she shared with niccolo.

--

You sipped your warm coffee as you stepped into the flower shop.

Three months had passed since you first met your old friends. Since then, as planned, you had created more memories with them, too many to count, and it had never felt this good to be so loved and included in a friend group before.

In fact, they had invited you to a party with even more of the old cadet group. Apparently they had all been acquainted before and decided that it was a good idea to have a small party at someone’s house so it would be like “the old days”.

“but, you know, without the killing and all.” Connie had added helpfully.

You, of course, had readily agreed.

The weather was a little windy, greying clouds covering some parts of the sky. You wondered if it would rain today.

The fragrance surrounded you once again, as you welcomed it to hug your clothes.

You gripped your coffee cup a little as you saw Jean behind the counter, as usual, stoic and cold.

You didn’t know why but something had definitely changed after that day you got to know his name. As if knowing your name and knowing the past changed his perception of you.

Maybe he was a different person now? Or maybe he liked someone else? Or maybe he just wanted something new, something different, something not you.

The thoughts stung more than you wanted them to, but it’s not like you could do anything about them. You had tried to talk to him, asking him about his day, what he was up to, but he never answered the way you hoped he would. He give you his usual shrug and a one word answer that allowed no room for further conversation.

You wondered if this was what he really wanted. If being cold and steely towards you was the way he wanted to act with you, or if he was just a really good actor.

Either way, you were hurt.

Yet, you continued your visits to the flower shop, sometimes only to hear his voice. You knew it was probably a long shot but you continued making small talk with him even if you frequented the shop fewer and less enthusiastic. Sometimes you went knowing it wasn’t Jean’s shift, not in the mood to use your social battery on him.

Now, though, you wanted to buy flowers for Sasha, Marco and Connie. You thought it would be a nice gesture and it wasn’t like you hadnt already done it before.

Jean barely acknowledged the bell ringing, much less your presence as you bit back a small sigh.

You walked over to the baskets of carefully segregated flowers sprayed with water, picking each of your friends’ favourite flowers, along with two daffodils for yourself.

Three yellow roses for Marco, a hyacinth stem for Connie, who said he didn’t really have a favourite flower, so you picked the ones that reminded you of him, which also happened to symbolize playfulness. Three Chrysanthemums for Sasha, and you were all set.

Your plans were to meet Marco, Connie, Sasha at Sasha’s dorm, all dressed up, and then you’d leave whenever Niccolo would come to pick you guys up, being the only one with a car.

Silently, you put the flowers infront of Jean, telling him how you wanted it bundled. He obliged, as was his job, sneaking glances at your direction. You caught one, and offered him a small smile.

He quickly looked away, continuing his work. You didn’t know why you hoped he’d return the smile.

He rung you up, as you paid the money, without wasting much time. You felt the need to get away from the shop you used to love so much. A pang went through your heart.

Grabbing the flowers gently, rushing out of the place with them clutched in your hands.

“wait!” you heard Jean call behind you, making you halt and turn around, hope blooming in your chest.

“are you… are you gonna go to the party tonight? With us?” his eyes refuse to meet yours.

“I doubt it’s a full fledged party,” you let out a light chuckle, “but I’ll be going.”

You hoped he was trying. You hoped he started to atleast care. You hoped he knew you appreciated it.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You bit back a laugh at his expression.

Finally, still not meeting your gaze, he says “that’s… nice.”

That’s it?

Its okay. You could be patient, though he was testing your limits.

“I’ll see you then, Jean.” You said, turning around on your heels and speed-walking through the doors missing the way Jean let out a heavy sigh behind you, the bell of the doors drowning out the noise.

--

Jean’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, waiting with anticipation for your arrival in Sasha’s dorm. His leg was bouncing up and down as he sat on Sasha’s bed, fiddling with the belt of the watch his mother gave him when he graduated highschool, claiming he’d look even more handsome with it. Jean wasn’t sure how a watch was supposed to make him look handsome but he wore it nonetheless.

“I think you should talk to them, jeanbo,” he remembered his ma giving him advice when he told her about poppy, “by the way you speak about them it seems like you really like them. You shouldn’t throw that away because of something that might happen.”

She and Marco were the only ones who knew about his situation, but as always, Jean decided to not listen to him.

“just talk to them, Jean.” Marco whispered near him, rather annoyed, which was unlike him. Sasha and Connie were going through Sasha’s closet, trying to figure out what she should wear. Sasha, being a master at procrastinating, had yet to change her clothes and get ready.

Jean leaned back, “I don’t think that’s gonna fix anything, though. I mean, it wont take back the fact that they’re quiet literally destined to be hurt.”

Marco sighs, closing his eyes. Jean was making whatever strong thread marco had that kept him together almost snap. Jean was good at doing that, he thought.

“you know what? Do whatever you want, just… I think you can fix this, I think both you and (y/n) deserve a happy ending. Other than that, I have no comments.” He says, getting up and joining Sasha and Connie, who thankfully didn’t hear his and Jean’s whispered conversation.

“I think this one-“ Connie pointed, but was cut off by a knock Jean just knew was you. he sat up, running a hand through his hair and glancing at marco.

“Talk. To. Them.” Marco mouths.

“youre here!” Sasha says, almost tackling you with a hug.

Jean sighs. Sasha’s love language was rather aggressive. He hoped you weren’t hurt by her antics.

“hey, (y/n)!” Connie greets as Marco smiles warmly at you.

Jean finally gets a good look at you as Sasha lets go of your shoulders.

His breath hitches. If his heart was going fast before he wondered how he was still alive with his heart going so inexplicably rapid.

You looked beautiful, smiling and happy and oh you were smiling at him, and you looked so bright, even under the shitty lighting in Sasha’s dorm, you looked gorgeous.

He gave you a tight lipped smile, seeing yours falter in response.

Jean was a cruel, cruel, person, he thought.

You made your way over to Sasha’s closet, your face immediately brightening and pointing at the dress you thought she’d look good in, in about two seconds.

Sasha gasped, saying something Jean barely listened to as he was too focused on your face, watching your eyes crinkle, your perfume surrounding him warmly, and he never wished he could hold you close to him more than now.

fuck it, he thought. I'll try.

He played with the belt of his wristwatch again, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, joining the rest of you. he stood behind you, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder, hoping you’d see he was reaching out, hoping it wasn’t too late.

You stiffened initially, but your shoulders relaxed after noticing it was just him.

“okay, I’m gonna get ready now,” Sasha declared, moving to the bathroom to change, “(y/n), choose my makeup later, okay?” she said, shutting the door of the bathroom with no further argument.

“oh, right, I got these for you guys!” you say, perking up and showing them the flowers Kean had tied together that morning.

You gave the yellow roses to Marco, the hyacinths to Connie, and left the Chrysanthemums for Sasha.

Jean felt like he’d been stabbed.

Of course he had wondered why you had bought so many flowers, if they had been for your friends. He wondered if the dandelions were for him, but now, seeing as they weren’t, he wanted to cry.

Had he already hurt you that much? had it been too much?

Three months ago, he would have been a little glad about the fact, he would have been a little glad that you had stopped hoping.

But now, knowing how hard it was to continue this charade for any longer, all he felt was a deep hurt. He had never felt this way, the type of visceral sadness that made his want to sit down and hug himself and shut the world out. he wondered if you felt like this everytime he was no less than a dick to you. he wondered how you lived like that. thinking your only soulmate doesn't want anything to do with you, tossing you aside.

the hurt boiled and bubbled in his chest, the guilt washing up on him in waves. the same heart that was fluttering just a moment ago felt like it now sunk into the depths of the Marianna trench.

he removed his palm that was resting in your shoulder, promptly shoving it in the pockets of his pants and rolled his shoulders back. there were no tears to be blinked away, but the lump in his throat prevented him to speak.

the pain of knowing it was probably too late to fix the things he messed up was just now dawning him.

you made your way to Sasha's closet once again, going through one of her drawers full of makeup products, picking the things she'd need after getting changed, while Marco helped. Connie still stood beside Jean, observing him carefully.

"something happened, didn't it?" Connie said, loud enough for only Jean to hear him.

Jean only looked at him. maybe it was because Connie knew Jean for longer than anyone did in this room, maybe it was because Jean wasn't doing such a good job at hiding his hurt as he thought he was, but Connie nodded, patting Jean's back stiffly yet comfortingly : his way of showing affection.

Jean still appreciated it, though he couldn't find it in him to speak.

"you can fix it." Connie said, leaving Jean standing in the middle of the room as he went to join you and Marco.

Jean looked at you, laughing at something Connie had said about mascara, your laugh crinkling the corner of your eyes beautifully.

he hoped he wasn't too late.

--

jean could hear his breathing in his own ears, he could feel someone holding him in an uncomfortable position, yet he couldn't move.

he felt the imminent fear of the titans rushing towards him and whoever was holding him, the person frantically waving their blade in order to keep both Jean and them safe.

he could hear faint sniffles, gasping, struggling from the person holding him. the last thing he remembered was that he saved Mikasa from a Titan and...

what was happening?

why couldn't he open his fucking eyes? why couldn't he move?

the person holding him stopped waving their blade, a louder, surprised gasp coming from them.

Jean finally pried his eyes open at that, the lack of warm air from the titan's nostrils compelled him to check what was happening.

he blinked his eyes blearily, groaning a bit in the process. he felt the sweat drip off his forehead as he looked at the person holding him.

armin.

he followed armin's eyes, where Jean assumed the Titan was standing, but instead found its corpse.

someone had killed it, saving both Jean and Armin in the process. not just someone, but... you.

the sun was gleaming behind your sillohette, lighting up only the sides of your face as you prevented more titans from approaching him. Jean couldn't see your face clearly, his eyes still blurry and lungs still hurting, but he remembered thinking that he'd never forget this.

he'd never forget the way you were fighting for him, the way you used the titans themselves to grapple the hook of your ODM gear to, the way you guided yourself with strength and bravery.

Jean would also never forget the way he was angry.

why would you not care about your own life? why would you risk your life to save his?

he remembered scolding you about it later.

the little argument would then turn into his first kiss with his soulmate.

and Jean remembered thinking he'd never forget it.

--