#marco aot

[kodydrs]

don’t stay at my house - j. kirstein

a/n : i need him in a way that’s terrible for feminism. I’ve been in love with this man since day freaking 1 and i think if i search hard enough there’ll be fanfics i wrote abt him when i was 15 (they will not be getting posted). but anywhos. why not send in a request, or ask?!

warnings: jean x fem!reader, jean x marco!sister!reader, fxm, smut (mdni), friends with benefits, brothers best friend type fwb, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), titplay (not really), mostly fully clothed, not proofread (it’s never proofread), I’m bad at tagging still

ib: this one fanart i saw on pinterest

request: yes / no

rule number 1: no feelings. it’s called off straight away if either of us catch feelings

rule number 2 : don’t tell anyone

rule number 3 : all things must be discussed previously before trying

rule number 4 : consent is key

rule number 5 : MARCO CANNOT FIND OUT

It’d been a boring day. You had no classes, and you’d done as much study as your brain would let you. You probably could’ve invited Sasha or Mikasa over, but they both had partners to hang out with, as well as other stuff.

You were single. There was no real reason why. There were boys & girls that’d happily go out with you if you gave them the chance, but dating just didn’t appeal to you that much. Not when there were so many strings attached. But that doesn’t mean you were a slut. You didn’t jump from person to person’s bed or anything. You were happy with your situation.

‘Hey.’

‘Oh. I didn’t realise you were over.’

Jean stood at your door, arms folded and leaning against the frame. He chuckled lightly, walking into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed.

‘I’ve been here almost all day. Marco just went into town to grab stuff so the house is empty. How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. How about you? I haven’t seen you in over a week.’

‘I’ve been great.’ He says, pushing his hair back. ‘But I was kinda wondering if… um… I wanted to see your smile.’

He grinned widely, and the flicker from your eyes to your lips didn’t go unnoticed. You leaned forwards, closing the gap between you slightly.

‘You’re allowed to kiss me, Kirstein.’ You whispered, smiling at his unsubtlety. His grin growing, he brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it lightly before brushing his lips against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss.

‘I love your smile. You know that?’ He pulled back slightly, his hand moving down to gently squeeze your thigh beneath your blanket.

‘I know.’ You reply, moving your hand to hold his jaw before smoothing along the bone. His eyes closed, melting into the soft touch of your fingers on his skin.

He leaned in again, and this time their kiss deepened, his other hand moving up to grip your waist, pulling your bodies closer.

‘Jean…’ You breathed, bringing your hands to his chest. Their placement made me groan softly, heart racing.

‘Yeah?’

‘We can’t right now. Marco could get home any minute.’ You pulled back, pressing your foreheads together to maintain proximity. He muttered a quiet ‘damn it’, aware that you were right. He sighed and took a deep breath, trying to calm his body down.

‘I know this isn’t the best place or time, but I can’t stop thinking about you.’

You could only give a sympathetic smile to his words. You took his hand and rubbed your thumb along his palm.

‘You’ll have to stop it then. You remember the rules. No feelings.’

‘Yeah. Yeah. Got it. “no feelings involved”.’ He said, holding your hand. ‘But you don’t know how hard that is when it's you I could be with. Like, I keep catching myself thinking about things we could do together. It drives me nuts.’

You listened to him, but the inside of your mouth was being abused by your teeth, distracted by his words.

He leaned in to kiss you once again, but this time, your hand came between your mouths, pushing his face away.

‘Look. Jean. I do really like you, ok. But Marco and… if he found out, then that’s the end of it. You won’t be invited over anymore.’

There was a look of hurt in his eyes when you met them. His hands wrapped carefully around your wrist, pulling your hand away.

‘Please say you aren’t pushing me away right now.’ You couldn’t keep looking at his eyes, so they diverted to your wall, holding your breath like you were about to cry.

After a few moments, Jean’s grip on your wrist loosened and you felt the bed adjust as he stood.

‘Yeah. You’re right. We can’t do this.’ You wanted to look at him. You wanted to pour your heart out to him and get him to stay, but the thought of his friendship with your brother being destroyed seemed to keep you quiet.

‘You… You should probably go back to Marco’s room. Pretend the house is actually empty.’

‘Yeah. I should.’ He hesitated for a moment, but he gave you a small smile before he left, closing the door gently. As soon as his footsteps faded, you burst into tears, clutching your shirt to cover your mouth.

Jean left your room hurriedly, face flushed and heart racing from the feelings he’d just tried to suppress.

‘Shit.’ He sat down on the stairs, putting his face in his hands as he took deep breaths. ‘Fucking shit.’

It’d been a few months since the “incident” if you’d even call it an incident at all. You hadn’t seen each other since, and you had no clue if it was because he hadn’t come over, or because you barely left your room. But it didn’t matter to you at all. You had exams to focus on.

‘Hey Marco. Do you have any spare batte-‘ You opened your brothers door, only stopping when you saw he had company. ‘-ries.’

Jean looked up from where he lay on Marco’s bed, face flushed and burying his head down as if it’d hide the fact you’d already seen him. Marco went unphased, opening his drawer to rummage through.

‘What type do you need?’

‘Do you have like, 2 9v ones? Preferably lithium but not too phased.’

He found the first one pretty quickly, but it felt like a mission finding another one. After about 3 minutes, you both gave up and closed the drawer.

‘I’ll pick some up later when I go into town. Do you need anything else?’

‘No. I should be right. Take him with you when you leave.’ You nodded towards Jean. Jean who still had his face hidden. Marco gave you a look, but you just closed the door. You froze outside for a minute, letting out a deep sigh before you went back to your room.

You’d told Marco about what happened. Told him everything from the first hook up to the “break up”. He was a little weirded out at first, but he didn’t seem to care otherwise.

A few hours had passed when you heard the rustle of shoes before a soft knock on your door, followed by your brother's head poking in.

‘I’m going now. Don’t die while I’m gone.’

‘Take Jean with you.’ Marco opened the door fully, folding his arms across his chest.

‘You haven’t been phased by being alone in the house for the past month, so why now that you know he’s here?’

‘Because I know he’s here.’ You emphasised each word, trying to prove your point. ‘It’s like when there’s a serial killer in your house. You aren’t phased until you know they’re there.’

‘That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?’ A deadpan reaction was the only reaction he was getting out of you. ‘Whatever. Just don’t burn the house down.’

‘Thank you.’

Like any brother, he didn’t close your door properly, but you heard the front door close, followed by his car leaving and that was enough reassurance that you were alone in an empty house.

You only worked for another 30 minutes before dehydration set in. Usually you had your drink bottle on your desk or in your bag, but today seemed to be an exception because you couldn’t find it at all. So you stood, pushing your chair back and walked to the kitchen.

Like you wanted, the house was empty and quiet. It was always like that considering it was only you and Marco that lived there.

The house was big enough to fit more people, but living alone just out of the city meant it was mostly silent, mind the few cars that drove past into work or to one of the neighbouring houses. But it also meant that if you needed to, you could catch a bus to your classes.

You were reaching for a glass when you heard footsteps on the lino. It made you flinch, nearly dropping the glass when you saw Jean trying to escape quietly.

‘Why are you still here?!’

He froze, stepping back like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t meant to. Not that he wasn’t meant to be in your house. Just not at that exact moment.

‘Look. I didn’t even know you were here until you came into Marco’s room. I thought you had classes today.’

‘Is that your excuse?’ You asked. Your tone showed how pissed off you were if your expression didn’t. You left the glass on the counter, suddenly well hydrated before storming out of the kitchen.

‘Wait. Please.’ You felt hands grab around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. ‘Just… let me talk. Please.’

You maintained your frown, making it obvious you didn’t wanna hear what he had to say, but you were more respectful than that, so you stopped pulling against him.

He released a sigh and let go of your wrist.

‘Alright. Can I start off by saying I’m sorry? I should’ve checked you weren’t here before I came. That part is fair for you to be mad about.’ You stood, arms folded and leaning against the counter as the brunette continued. ‘And I want to apologise for how things turned out back then. I still really fucked up, and I’m not denying that any of it was wrong, because I pushed you and I shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve any of that.’ You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, an action you noted hasn’t changed in your time apart. But you couldn’t meet his eyes, so they looked down at the floor, the same way you looked away when you last spoke. He sighed again, moving closer to you so his hand gently brushed against your arms.

‘Look. I know I’m not the best, and you probably have plenty of other options that you could go to, but… I still really like you. A lot. And I’ve done everything I can to try move on-‘

‘Jean.’ You interrupted sternly. It’s not like how you used to say it. You used to breath his name with so much love that it drove you both crazy. There was no love in the way you said it now. ‘Stop.’

‘Stop what? Talking to you? Even if I did, I wouldn’t stop thinking about you.’

‘Just stop it!’ There was anger boiling in your voice, but he seemed so clouded that he couldn’t see it.

‘Why? Why do you hate me so?’

‘Because if I don’t hate you, then I’m going to fall in love with you again!’ Tears brimmed your eyes as you finally confessed.

Jean’s heart skipped a beat. He moved closer, placing a hand on your chin and gently raising it until your eyes met.

‘That can’t happen.’ He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘Don’t you dare say that. Because I’ve been trying not to for months.’ You’re looking up at him, leaning against his hand. Reaching down, he cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

‘I’ll fight it with everything I have in me but…’ He trailed off, leaning in so his lips barely brushed against yours.

‘But..?’

‘But I can’t promise I’ll win.’

He kissed you slowly, his hands sliding off your face and down your back, pulling you closer. The kiss only deepened as emotions ran high between the 2 of you.

You kissed him like a starved man, quick to get your hands beneath his shirt to feel the dip

Jean moaned against your lips, hands following suit as they slid along your thighs, gripping your hips tightly.

‘God. I’ve wanted this everyday since I last saw you.’ He whispered before pulling away slightly, looking into your eyes. You were quick to pull him back in, whispering against his lips.

‘Then don’t stop.’

He was hesitant for a moment before leaning down to once again taste your lips. He grabbed you around the waist, wrapping his arms around you as your legs wrapped around him.

‘I love you.’

You paused for a minute, almost like you were scared of the words, before you pulled away and kissed his jaw up to his ear.

‘Show me then.’

With a smile, Jean hoisted you atop the counter, positioning himself between your legs while he attacked your neck. A soft whimper came from your mouth, and your fingers tangled with the hair at his nape.

‘You like that?’ He nipped at your neck again, hips grinding languidly against yours. You grinded against him, making you both breath deep as his hands pressed you against the counter. ‘You haven’t changed.’

You grinned, pulling his chin up to look at you.

‘Will you fuck me on the kitchen counter?’

‘You’re a hot mess, aren’t you?’ He chuckled, his judgement clouded by lust and desire. You shurgged.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘You’re so slutty.’ He teased and pecked your lips, but still started to undo his belt. Your grin widened, and you took his free hand, trailing it up your torso to massage your tit through the fabric of your shirt.

His breath hitched, and his fingers searched for your hardened nipple as he pulled his erection free of its restrictions. Seeing his throbbing cock, you slid your shorts and underwear to your ankles, revealing yourself to the man.

‘Fuck. You’re gorgeous.’ He stepped closer, swiping his tip through your wet folds and groaning as he sank into you.

Head thrown back, you gripped his hand that was on your breast, while your other held his nape, keeping you upright.

‘Holy shit-‘

‘That’s right, baby. Just like that. Take it all.’ He started with moving slowly, dragging himself along your walls with a string of soft grunts. But as he felt you relax around him, he picked up speed, skin slapping together in rhythm.

Damn did you miss this. Both of you missed it. Missed the way he’d tease you by changing pace, but just not enough teasing to annoy you. Missed the way you had to keep a hand over your mouth so the neighbours couldn’t hear you being fucked by your brothers best friend.

Jean leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his thrusts growing deeper and more intense as he felt you clench around him tightly.

‘Jean.’ You whimpered, interlacing your fingers.

‘I know, baby.’ He bit your bottom lip, feeling the pleasure coursing through you both. He could tell by the way your body was reacting that you were close, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t either, noticeable by his movements becoming more desperate.

You did your best to grind your hips to his timing, making you both groan. Eyes rolled at the overwhelming sensation, unable to hold back any longer.

‘Fuck. I’m gonna cum.’

‘You can cum inside.’ You panted, pulling his lips back to yours. With a few final thrusts, he groaned as he released his seed deep inside you, feeling your wall clench around him in the most perfect way. You came hard at the same time, trembling against him as the aftermath washed over you both.

‘Fuck, baby…’ Leaning heavily forwards and stabilising himself on the counter, he pressed gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. Your hand on the back of his neck found its way to his hair, running your fingers through the strands.

‘T-That was good.’

He sighed, an unmatched sense of comfort in your presence. Arm wrapped around you, he pulled back to look in your eyes.

‘God. I want you.’ His face was flushed, like he was embarrassed to admit it. You smiled, brushing his hair out of his face.

‘Then you can have me.’ His heart races at your words. searching your eyes like they would tell him how serious you were being. You just grin, pulling him back down for another kiss. Another kiss, just as the front door opens.

‘Shit.’

© kodydrs

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

[fernskullyarts]

we were ROBBED- imagine these mfs in the scouts new gear?! AAAAAAH-

[jthezombshark]

I made this awhile ago (I didn’t do the background cause idk how to draw underwater 😔)

Here’s without the dark/glow ⬇️

[kittick-art]

So there's a poll going around...

Here's the link to the poll!! VOTE MARCO!!!!

[nightfall-kachiniko]

Connie: OH MY GOD JEAN-

Jean: whattt?!

Connie: MARCO BOLDT FOUND DEAD AT 14

Jean: NOOOOOOOOOO

[crazychaoticizzy]

TRACK 2: The Bends

Following their high school careers, the original five in the band Heart Attack begin rising through the ranks. Despite their slow ascent to success, they make it in the end. Even with everything that went wrong.

EREN X READER X JEAN

CONTENT: multipart fic, rock band au, slow burn (I mean it), love triangle, angst, mentions of drinking, violence, blood, mentions of guns, major character death

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

series masterlist

AOT masterlist

<< previous part

EREN: I brought it up in my mom’s garage when we were all freshmen, I think. We were all playing a game together and Mikasa came in. I wanted to do it then because all of us were there, and it had been forever since we’d all been in the same spot so when would we get that chance again?

Armin, I remember, seemed super reluctant. I don’t know if money was a problem though, or if he genuinely didn’t want to do it. I never found out, either.

ARMIN: Yeah, I wanted to do it, it sounded fun. But as a hobby. I didn’t want to do it often. Eren wanted to turn it into a career, and . . . I just couldn’t do that.

JEAN: The problem with the idea was we were all dirt poor. Eren was the only one living with a family that wasn’t working their asses off to make ends meet or living paycheck to paycheck because his dad was a doctor.

ARMIN: We brought that up. I told him, “Not everyone can do what they want on a whim.” It was the end of that conversation, but on my sixteenth birthday a week later, Eren had rented me an acoustic guitar.

CONNIE: After that, we all knew that we were doing this, whether we wanted to or not.

Armin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He hated this. He hated coming to Eren’s house every single day when he could be working and trying to help his grandfather get out of debt.

Eren was explaining how to play the chords to him (since when did he know how to play?), but Armin wasn’t listening. He stared at Eren’s hands with an absent expression as they moved, switching dates he could work around in his head and running through the long list of assignments due in his mind.

He swore he was going to die of stress before he even turned eighteen.

“Dude, if I’m boring you just say that.”

Armin hummed, moving his gaze to Eren’s face and the teasing smile that played on his lips. “What?”

“You’re spacing out. Didn’t know I was that uninteresting.”

Armin took a moment to process Eren’s words before shaking his head. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh.” Eren dropped his hands from the guitar’s neck. “Something wrong?”

Armin shook his head, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “Just tired.”

The day before had been one of the rare days where Armin didn’t need to be at Eren’s house. He’d worked the entire afternoon, switching jobs at about 6:30 before going home after midnight.

But after he returned home he remembered the pile of class work he needed to catch up on and ended up passing out at his desk without making a dent in it.

His days had started blurring together. He couldn’t remember anything taught in class and his reaction time to things was getting slower and slower the longer he went without sleep.

He hated everything.

“Do you need help with your work? I could do it for you.” Eren put the guitar to the side, leaning closer to Armin.

Armin took a second to respond before shaking his head. “No. I don’t want your failing ass to tarnish my perfect grade.”

“Well that perfect grade is gonna get bad at the rate you’re doing things anyway.” Eren paused. “Sorry.”

Armin waved him off. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.” He groaned and laid back on the concrete floor. It was cold, and Armin thought this must have been the best thing to ever happen to him.

He let his eyes close for a minute. Or two. He wanted to sleep, and at that moment nothing could have felt more comfortable than the hard floor beneath him.

Eren shoved Armin’s arm, making him hum in irritation and open his eyes. Armin turned his head, finding that Eren was now lying beside him.

“What?”

“I’m serious, Armin. Do you need help? Even if I’m not the one to do it, I’m sure one of the guys would be happy to.”

Armin shook his head, waving Eren off. “It’s fine. I’ve been thinking about dropping out anyway.”

“What?” Eren sat up, hands squeezing his knees as he looked down at Armin. “Why?”

“It’s just too much. My grandpa’s behind on payments and he got an eviction notice the other day. He tried hiding it, but you know him.”

Eren nodded. He knew that Thomas Arlert was holding onto the last strands of health he had for Armin’s sake. The old man tended to have things slip from his mind easily, so what likely happened was that Thomas hid the eviction notice and forgot where he’d placed it, making him ask Armin without thinking.

“We can help you guys out.”

Armin shakes his head. “We’re fine, Eren. I have it under control.”

What Eren wanted to tell Armin was that he shouldn’t need to have it under control. He wanted to tell Armin that he should be living, not struggling to scrape by. He wanted to tell Armin that he didn’t need to do everything by himself.

But Eren had said all those things before, in one way or another. Some of them he had said more than once. But every single time, Armin shot him down. It was clear to Eren that Armin didn’t want help.

That never stopped him from offering, though.

“Okay. But if you ever need help you know we’ll help you.”

Armin hummed in acknowledgement, closing his eyes again. Eren didn’t say anything else. Instead, he got up to put the guitar back in its box and left Armin on the floor. Eren walked into his house to retrieve a thin blanket, walking back out to gently place it over Armin’s sleeping form.

Eren walked back into his house, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he propped open the garage door and sat at the dining room table. He could see Armin’s golden hair from where he sat, and he held his phone up to his ear as it rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Armin’s thinking about dropping out.”

Jean was silent on the other line. “What?”

Eren made a sound of affirmation. “He said he and his grandpa are about to get evicted.”

Eren heard Jean silently curse. He heard the rustling of blankets and another questioning voice that sounded suspiciously like Marco. “Is he seriously thinking about doing that? What about wanting to be valedictorian?”

Eren shrugged as if Jean could see him. “I don’t know, Jean. But he’s on the brink of failing anyway, so I don’t think he’d reach that goal even if he stayed in school.”

Jean huffed. Eren heard more rustling and the soft clanking of metal. “Alright. I’ll call Connie. See if we can scrape something together to help out.”

Eren nodded. He didn’t say anything else for a moment, just listening to the soft shuffling around coming from Jean’s end. Again, he heard a voice that sounded a lot like Marco’s, but he didn't comment on it. Something inside of him always said they were more than friends.

Jean’s voice finally came through again. “Okay, I’ll call Connie now.”

“Okay.”

The call fell silent. Eren expected Jean to hang up, but when he didn’t, he lowered his phone to press the red button before Jean spoke again.

“Armin’s gonna be okay, okay? We’re all gonna be okay.”

Eren nodded. “I hope so.”

Another moment of silence followed before it became so suffocating Eren had to hang up. He sighed, standing up from the table and walking up the stairs to retrieve his headphones from his room.

He got a text from Marco moments later. Marco had sent multiple photos of his schoolwork for Eren to copy down onto Armin’s papers. After digging through his bag, Eren found the assignments organized neatly in a folder and started copying everything down.

While he was at it, he tried to improve his own grades.

—

Armin dropped out two months later

He didn’t tell anyone. He simply stopped showing up to school. He stopped going over to Eren’s house, and he tried his absolute best to avoid everyone.

He didn’t want them to be disappointed, especially after they had done so much to help him.

The Arlert’s finances were better. They were no longer living paycheck to paycheck or were behind on any payments, but at what cost? Armin spent all of his free time working, picking up whatever hours he could at his three jobs and accepting the occasional offer of whatever people needed him to do in exchange for money. He had no more social life and no time for himself. When he wasn’t working, he was sleeping.

It seemed like he had completely abandoned his friends. But one day, a warm Tuesday in the summer when his schedules aligned perfectly and he didn’t have work, he walked to Eren’s house. He followed the sound of music playing and found that there were people gathered around the open garage.

Connie, as excited and energetic as ever, smacked his wooden sticks against the drums, keeping the time by tapping his foot against the floor. Marco’s hands moved across the keyboard, occasionally switching a couple knobs at the top to change the sound. Armin watched Jean’s fingers move across the fingerboard of his guitar with ease, and he watched Eren’s lips move centimeters from the microphone.

They sounded good. Maybe not hit material, like The Beatles or Queen, but they had the right sound. They kept the same consistent, obvious beat and overlaid their own tracks over it. They were in tune, and surprisingly were all working well together.

Armin stayed to the side. He stood behind most of those gathered around and just listened to the music flooding down the street, so loud you could probably hear it a few blocks over.

When they finally stopped, they were all sweating. Eren smiled out at the people watching and bowed dramatically as sweat dripped from his chin. Jean heaved heavy breaths beside him, turning to Marco to flash his teeth with a look that said, We can actually do this.

Armin couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched across his lips. He clapped with everyone else, watching as his friends began unplugging the amps and speakers and everyone else began to walk away one by one, a few dropping coins or bills into an open guitar case.

When Eren finally noticed Armin standing there, a wide grin crossed his face. He let go of the mic, which would have fallen to the ground if Jean hadn’t caught it by the stand, and sprinted across the driveway to Armin. Eren knocked into him with so much force it almost pushed them to the ground, but he didn’t care because it felt like Eren hadn’t seen Armin in forever.

They stayed like that for a moment. Eren practically squeezed the life out of Armin before Jean yelled, “Get a move on, loser. You’re not the only one that missed Armin.”

“Fuck off, Jean.” Eren gave one last squeeze before releasing the blond. Eren flashed him one last smile before he went back up the driveway. Armin followed suit, looking around at the set up they had.

There were actual drums now. It was no longer just boxes placed on sticks for Connie to practice hitting, there were drums. The guitars were different, too. Jean had a sleek black bass with a dark red strap instead of the acoustic guitar he shared with Armin, and Marco had a proper set up for his keyboard.

Armin’s lips tilted up. He liked seeing this. He liked seeing that even if he wasn’t there, everyone still continued with what they wanted.

He was glad to know his absence wouldn’t be an obstacle, because he was sure he would never be able to join them.

Armin turned his head when Connie held something out to him, his lips curved up in a smile that showed all of his teeth. When Armin looked down at his hand, he saw that Connie was holding out an instrument case.

Armin’s brows furrowed as Connie bent over to leave it at Armin’s feet. Armin kneeled beside Connie and unlatched the locks, opening the case to reveal a vintage Gibson SG. Armin’s jaw fell open, and he stared at the cherry stain of the wood.

“We found it at a thrift store,” Marco said. He walked over, kneeling down beside Connie. “It was a crazy markdown. Only like thirty bucks, I think. We looked online and found a lot for over a thousand dollars. Isn’t that crazy?”

Armin nodded. He closed his mouth and looked up at Marco. “Who’s it for?”

“It’s for you.”

Armin blinked, registering Marco’s words. “What? No, I-I’m not part of this. This is all you guys.”

“You want to be in the band with us though, right?” Connie asked. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning forward. “You can't be in the band if you don’t play an instrument or something, and everyone knows you can’t sing.”

Armin let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t, guys. You know how busy I am.”

“We aren’t doing this without you.” Eren plopped himself on the ground beside Armin, aggressively hitting Armin’s shoulder. “This is all of our thing. We do this together. Right, Jean?”

“Huh?” Jean looked up from his phone, still tapping at it as he looked at where everyone was gathered on the floor. “What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Last time I said yes I was pinned to the floor and Connie drew two dicks pointing at each other like guns on my forehead. With Sharpie.”

They laughed, and Armin felt out of place. He didn’t remember that happening, so it must have been recently.

“The point is”—Eren turned his attention back to Armin—“you’re part of this. We started this with you and we’ll be damned if you aren’t there with us when we keep going.”

Eren took Armin by the hand, intertwining their fingers and giving it a firm squeeze. And then Connie took Armin’s other hand, doing the same thing. And then Marco reached over and squeezed Armin’s knee. Jean, of course, was not paying attention until Eren threw a stray pen at his head and forced him to kneel beside them and squeeze Armin’s shoulder.

“It’s the five of us, guys.” Connie smiled, looking up to meet each of their gazes. “Now, until we’re too old to be jumping around on stage, promise?”

Eren squeezed Armin’s hand tighter, as if doing so would pass the unspoken message along to Connie. “Promise. We’re Heart Attack, right?”

That was new, too. Last Armin knew, the band didn’t have a designated name. It had barely been two months since he stopped showing up and already it felt like so much had changed.

Jean squeezed Armin’s shoulder tighter, reaching over with his other hand to squeeze Marco’s. “We’re gonna be the best fucking rock band in the world. The best of the century.”

If only it were that easy.

—

CONNIE: Man, I could not tell you what happened those last few years before we moved. I don’t think anyone can, actually. I just remember that it was stressful as hell.

JEAN: We didn’t really do much. We were still in school and starting tog eat our first jobs, so we were mostly trying to balance everything out without looking like zombies.

EREN: We moved to Berlin almost right out of high school. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but I don’t regret any of it.

“Do you guys really think we’ll make it?” Jean asked, laying back on the hotel bed with his arms crossed behind his head. “I mean, we’ve been living in this hotel for like a week and a half.”

“It’ll come,” Eren said. He scrolled through the different channels on the TV, eventually stopping on an American program. “We just need time. We need to find jobs that’ll keep us afloat for a bit. And then we’ll start our gigs up again.”

“Well if we don’t find somewhere soon our instruments are gonna get ruined in the van.”

They fell silent, the only sound being the water from the shower head in the bathroom.

Eren looked around for spots where they could put their instruments and equipment, but didn’t find a single empty space. The room was too crowded with all of their suitcases, and even if they didn’t have their own luggage there was no space big enough to put much.

“We’ll find a place,” Marco said. “We can start looking tomorrow. Surely there’s an apartment or something available for rent, right?”

Jean blew air out from his mouth. “I hope so.”

They were silent the rest of the night. They took their turns showering after Connie and started winding down. The TV still silently played, though the channel had been changed as each person took control of the remote.

It was half past midnight when Armin came into the room, his hair disheveled and his eyes tired from work. His black polo was untucked and one of his pockets turned out when he reached in it to grab something.

He brought out a piece of paper so folded it took him a moment to open it. When he did, he walked between the beds, careful not to step on Eren, and flicked on a light.

“Dude, it is past midnight. Turn that off,” Jean complained, pulling the blankets over his head.

“You weren’t sleeping anyway.” Armin whispered, careful not to wake Connie or Marco up. He kicked off his shoes and sat on the other bed with his legs crossed. “But look at this.”

He held the paper out. Jean stared at Armin with dead eyes before Eren reached up from his place on the floor and yanked it out of his hold. Eren held it up as he read it, holding it in the light so he could see.

“Live music performances?” Eren looked up at Armin as he nodded. “At Quasimodo? I thought they only did booked gigs with bigger artists.”

“They want to try something different. Apparently a few record companies approached them and asked them to do this,” Armin explained. He stood up from the bed and walked across the room to his suitcase, kneeling down to grab a change of clothes. “From what I overheard, these labels are looking for the next big thing. They want something new because people are getting tired of hearing the same music. It’s in a month or so, but they want to start getting people now.”

Eren nodded as Armin grabbed a bag and his glasses and stepped into the bathroom. The sound of water hitting the wall soon filled the room as Eren sat up and leaned against the bed.

“This is a terrible idea,” Jean said. Eren looked up from the paper. “I mean, yeah it’ll give us more recognition, but Quasimodo is a jazz bar or something like that. People don’t go there to hear what we do.”

“But if it’s an open night then people should be expecting all kinds of music anyway,” Eren countered. He set the paper to the side, laying back down. “People will give us a chance. We just have to take it.”

Jean exhaled, closing his eyes and turning over. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

It was completely silent moments later, save for the muffled sound of Armin’s shower.

Eren couldn’t take it. He put his AirPods back in his ears and laid back down, pressing play on his phone before closing his eyes and trying to drift off.

When Armin walked back into the room, his hair damp and falling in his eyes, everyone had fallen asleep. He tiptoed around Eren, cautious not to make any noise, and slipped under the covers beside Connie. He reached over to flick off the light, checking his phone once more before turning over and going to sleep.

Thomas hadn’t texted or called since Armin moved. Of course, Carla checked in on him daily and gave Armin updates, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to hear from his grandfather himself that he was doing fine.

Armin fell asleep hours later, his mind haunted with thoughts of how his grandfather was doing.

—

You joined Heart Attack in Berlin early on. Did they ask you to?

MIKASA: No, actually. Well, some of them wanted me to come along if I wanted, but I remember Eren called me one night and said very clearly, “You shouldn’t throw your life away just to follow us. There are better things for you in Shiganshina.” He kind of put a lot of emphasis on the fact that he didn’t really want me to follow, even if he didn’t explicitly say it.

I thought about it a lot. I talked to my mom about it and she just told me to do what I wanted. She said she had the store under control and that I didn’t need to worry about keeping it afloat, because that was the reason I had been so hesitant. A couple weeks after they had moved, I followed.

When Mikasa knocked on the door, Armin was the one that answered.

He wore a white T-shirt and blue pajama pants that made Mikasa think he had just gotten out of bed. His blond hair was touseled and he wore his glasses. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he greeted Mikasa, not quite registering who it was until she pushed her bangs out of her face.

“Mikasa? I thought you were staying in Shiganshina.” Armin leaned against the doorframe, resting his head against it and crossing his arms.

Mikasa shrugged. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms as well, fidgeting with one of her backpack straps. “Well, I never really decided, but I wanted to come here with you guys.”

Armin slowly nodded. He glanced over Mikasa, taking in her pulled back hair and the way she kept shifting her weight like she had done something she wasn’t supposed to.

He thought about Eren for a moment, and how he might react when he saw that Mikasa had traveled the two hours from Shiganshina to join them. He knew that Eren wanted her to stay in Shiganshina—he claimed it was because Mikasa would have a better life there, but Armin thought it was more for his own benefit.

He straightened himself, opening the door wider. “Sorry. I’ve just been standing here. Uhm, do you want to come in?”

Mikasa nodded, quietly thanking Armin as she grabbed her suitcase by the handle and stepped into the apartment.

She looked around as Armin closed the door behind her. It seemed like he was the only one home, based on how quiet it was.

There was no furniture. Well, there was, but the only pieces were a table and three chairs. Majority of the space was taken up by Connie’s drums and Marco’s keyboard. Jean and Armin’s instruments were packed away in their cases and set to the side.

Mikasa raised an eyebrow in question and looked at Armin, who was locking the door. “No furniture?”

Armin hummed, looking at her and then their living room. “Yeah, we, uh, we can’t really afford a lot. But we have a table? You can put your stuff there.”

Mikasa slowly nodded, letting out a soft laugh. She moved her suitcase beside the table leg and shrugged off her backpack.

“Are you hungry or something? We have cereal, probably.” As Armin spoke he moved around the table and started opening cabinets and the fridge, listing off a few items. “I can make you a sandwich, or leftover pizza. A salad, maybe? I don’t know what we have.”

Mikasa shook her head. “No, I’m alright. Where’s everyone else?”

Armin shut the fridge door and leaned against it. “Work. They all have morning or day shifts.”

Mikasa nodded again. The two of them exchanged awkward questions that only required a short answer for five minutes before they finally got back into their old groove. By the time Jean, the first to get off his shift, had come home, Armin and Mikasa were seated at the dinghy wooden table and laughing.

Jean was followed by Marco an hour later, and Connie thirty minutes after that. They moved to the floor where the five of them sat in a circle with cold leftover pizza from the fridge until Eren came home.

And when he did, the wave of annoyance that washed over him was clear.

It wasn’t obvious or boisterous, but the way his grip tightened on the doorknob when he saw Mikasa told her all she needed to know. He walked further into the apartment with heavy steps and closed the door behind him with more force than necessary.

The five of them quieted, watching as Eren stalked across the living room and disappeared down a hallway. No one dared speak a word even while Eren came back out, already changed into a new set of clothes, and began moving around the apartment like no one was there.

Eren eventually looked up at them after he’d made himself a bowl of greek yogurt and blueberries. He held eye contact with each one of them for at least five seconds before furrowing his eyebrows and shrugging. “What? Can I not eat?”

Jean cleared his throat, making Marco glare at him. The tension in the room steadily builds until Connie couldn’t take it cracked a stupid joke that got him teased by Jean and Armin. Mikasa softly laughed along, eyeing Eren as he settles between Armin and Connie.

When he looked up at her, she averted her gaze. Instead of looking at him, she looked at the door. The wall. Marco. Anywhere but Eren.

Her gaze caught on a piece of paper haphazardly taped to the wall. Mikasa squinted to read the blocky text on it.

“What’s going on at Quasimodo?” she asked, looking around the circle. She couldn’t read the finer text below the large letters that spelled out OPEN NIGHT.

Armin hummed in question, looking over at the piece of paper. “Oh, they’re having a night where small artists can go and play for free. It’s gonna last a couple days. We’re gonna be performing on the nineteenth.”

Mikasa hummed as Armin looked at the clock—the only other item decorating the apartment. He stood up and dusted off his pants before excusing himself and going down the same hall Eren had earlier. When he came back, he wore a black polo with the restaurant’s logo above his left breast. He grabbed his keys before saying goodbye to everyone and leaving.

Mikasa assumed Armin must have been the middle friend between her and everyone else because when he left she felt like the four others were staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

“So . . .” Mikasa drew the word out, thinking of what to say. “How has everything been going?”

Jean blew out a breath, leaning back against the wall. “Good enough. We have the space to practice but nowhere to play.”

“That’s just because we haven’t been looking in the right places,” Eren said. He turned his gaze to Jean, one of his eyebrows slightly raised. “We just need to get our name out there. Then people will pay attention to us.”

“People won’t pay attention to us if they don’t know who we are, dipshit.” Jean rolled his eyes. Eren shot him a glare that made it seem like he might kill him later.

Silence fell over the room again. In those few moments, Mikasa’s thoughts wandered to the Instagram page she’d started for her mom’s business and how online sales had shot up.

“Why don’t you get an Instagram?” she suggested. “Or like, Twitter or TikTok or whatever. Some kind of social media to promote yourselves.”

Mikasa felt like shrinking in on herself with the way their eyes turn to her. She felt like their gazes were scrutinizing her, almost judging her for speaking out.

She knew they would never. She only started feeling that way after no one spoke for what feels like hours.

“That’s a good idea,” Marco said. He switched his gaze to meet Eren’s. “Lots of people use it to promote themselves, why don’t we?”

He held Eren’s gaze for a moment. It seemed as though the two were having an argument in their thoughts until finally, Eren exhaled.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

The topic changed after that. To what, Mikasa didn’t know. What she did know was that she had been indirectly designated to create and (probably) manage the new account, and then later asked directly by Connie since, as he put it, “You’re the only one with the divine, God-given level of intellect and marketing skills to do a fantastic job at managing us.”

She put little effort into it. She’d gone to the bathroom while the remaining four talked about going to bed and as she stood at the sink after washing her hands, made the account heartattack5 on both Instagram and TikTok. She made the profile picture a silly photo she had taken years ago of the five of them on Halloween. In it, they held their hands out and had their eyes closed as if doing an exorcism of sorts. On the floor in front of them was a drawing of a zodiac from a show Mikasa had long forgotten about.

Maybe it wasn’t the best profile picture, but it worked until she could get a better one.

heartattack5 also wasn’t the best username, but she came up with it in the spur of the moment. She knew no one else would have better ideas, so she just went with it. As she was leaving the bathroom she began finding everyone’s profiles and following them.

On her way out of the bathroom, she bumped into Eren.

By that point, the light in the living room was turned off and the only thing brightening the hallway were the slivers that came from beneath two of the bedroom doors and a weak night light that was plugged into the wall.

They stared at each other for a moment. Eren’s piercing green gaze sliced through her, reading her every thought and learning her darkest secrets.

“I told you not to follow us,” he said. He spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the others that had already retreated to their rooms.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Mikasa slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She shifted her weight to one of her legs and crossed her arms. “I came here of my own volition, not because of you.”

“And yet this was the first place you came. You didn’t even go to wherever you’re staying first to drop off your bags.”

“Well.” She ended it there. She had tried coming with a defense to whatever Eren might throw at her while she was driving, but her efforts had proven fruitless. Instead of retaliating, she shrugged.

Eren sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had grown out a bit, the ends now resting at his jaw. “Please go home. I don’t want to drag you down with us if we aren’t successful. You have something guaranteed at home.”

“It’s not home without you guys,” she said, though it sounded like she had added guys as an after thought. There was an awkward pause between the final two words, and hearing it made Eren pause.

He looked at her, pressing his lips together. He knew Mikasa tended to lean towards people’s whims and do what they wanted, but goddamn she could be stubborn as hell when she wanted something. She stood in front of him, her feet planted so firmly in place Eren didn’t think a tornado could move her.

He finally exhaled and breathed out, averting his gaze to the seam where the hallway ceiling met the wall. “Fine. Whatever.”

Mikasa bit the inner corner of her lip to keep from smiling. She gave a soft nod, tilting her head down so Eren didn’t see the look of triumph on her face.

She moved to walk around him and gather her things, ready to get out of their hair for the night and sleep in her car or find a hotel, but Eren gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She could feel its warmth through her sweater, and she turned her head.

“Just stay. You’re already here.”

“I don’t want to impose,” she whispered, though after she said it she realized how useless it was to say it. She had already come by completely unannounced and likely overstayed her visit by a few hours.

“It doesn’t matter. You can sleep with me in my room.”

Mikasa stared at him, and for a moment it seemed like she was the one reading Eren’s thoughts and learning his secrets. She gave a soft nod, turning to follow Eren as he opened his bedroom door and flicked on the light.

Unsurprisingly, it was bare. There was nothing up on the walls and two of Eren’s suitcases are open with clothes pouring out of them. There was a pile of boxes in one corner, and in the opposite was a mattress without a frame.

Mikasa held back a chuckle. Eren closed the door behind her, leaving it open a finger’s width, before going to lie down on the bed.

Mikasa awkwardly stood for a moment before joining him. In her mind she made a barrier that neither she nor Eren were to cross that night, and was adamant about keeping it. She laid on her stomach and turned her head away from him, her arms beneath the pillow. Eren laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking, This is why those fuckers gave me the biggest room for myself.

—

In the following days, heartattack5 had gained almost two thousand followers.

Mikasa tried posting consistently. She stayed up at all hours of the day filming content with her phone and then editing the clips in the late hours of the night.

She’d changed the profile picture to one where Connie sat at his drums, Eren sitting in front of them while the other three leaned against Connie. She tried to get video of all of them playing their respective instruments and nicely framed photos to post.

She’d made a routine. She would wake up at the crack of dawn, around the time Armin returned home from his shift, and shower. She’d eat breakfast and spend a couple minutes each morning either pacing around the empty living room or laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling or scrolling on her phone. When the first person woke up—Marco, usually—she would chat with them for a bit before she began recording and taking pictures.

As the others woke up she would record them, too. She found that people enjoyed short slice of life videos alongside the more planned ones, so some days she would just record an exchange between all of them for hours.

Then, she had dinner in the room she shared with Eren. She sat crisscross on the floor and sifted through the video she’d taken while she ate. She had a pile of drafts saved up in both Instagram and TikTok, and she was always adding more.

Then, later in the night when she came out from the room to bid Armin a good shift and talked at the dinghy table with everyone else, she finally put her phone down. She’d leave it in the room on the charger and tried her best to push follows and views and likes and comments from her mind while she talked to her friends.

When they would start going to bed one by one, Eren was always the last to leave. He stayed awake with her until she was ready to go to bed, even if his eyes were dropping and he kept jerking awake. She’d finally laugh and say she’s going to bed even if she wasn’t tired, just so Eren could get the sleep he needed.

And at night, when Eren was snoring so loudly it practically shook the walls, Mikasa unlocked her phone and checked the account. When the numbers of new people were low, it left a harsh blow to her self esteem.

She would finally put her phone facedown on the wood floor and close her eyes, trying not to let the numbers or new ideas to get more people flood her mind.

The barricade she’d mentally made that first day she slept in the same bed as Eren was always there, but every night it was knocked down. Every morning she woke up with some part of Eren tied up in her, whether it be their arms pressed together or his hands on her waist or her head tucked into his chest.

In the morning when she found out where they had let their guard fall, she felt at peace.

—

“Come see us at Quasimodo tonight!”

In the video, Eren screamed at Mikasa’s phone before she panned over to Connie, who had his tongue out and his pointer and pinky finger on one hand up. It was short and ended there, but Mikasa had added a soft overlay of Heart Attack’s song “The Bends” to the background.

It was the best performing video she’d made, and it had only been posted at ten that morning.

Mikasa smiled with pride every time she checked her phone and the numbers skyrocketed. It started at 50, and then 100, and then seemingly out of nowhere shot up to 2,000 somewhere between eleven and noon. By the time the band was at Quasimodo getting ready for their gig, she was beaming at the white 37,000 in the bottom left corner, a number that went up every time she refreshed the page.

She didn’t know what it was about this one that did so well, but she wasn’t complaining.

Mikasa sat by herself at a table close to the stage. She could barely see whoever was playing beyond the bodies crowded together in front of her, but when she heard Eren’s voice she would move.

She kept her phone face up on the table, reading every single notification that came up on her phone.

Eren, peeking through the curtain during an intermission while the drums were being set up, watched Mikasa obsess over her phone. He noticed the way her eyes seemed to sparkle at the growing numbers, and some part of him thought to talk to her about it later.

But he moved his gaze around, and at a table at the back of the club spotted a blond man sitting with one other person. Eren didn’t recognize the brown-haired woman, but he knew who the blond was immediately.

“Guys.” Eren turned toward the others, the faintest grin on his face. “Erwin fucking Smith is here.”

Connie’s eyes practically popped out of his head with how much he had widened them. “Are you being serious right now?” he asked in disbelief.

“The Erwin Smith? Owner of Scout Records?”

Eren nodded. Jean lowly whistled and straightened himself. Armin ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath that fell somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp of disbelief.

Marco, who had been drinking water, set the plastic bottle down. He put a hand on Jean’s and Eren’s shoulders, gently squeezing. When Eren turned his head, Marco had a vibrant smile on his face.

“This is our chance guys. We can finally break through and get on the radio or something.”

“That’s if he likes our music,” Armin pointed out. Everyone turned to him. “If he doesn’t then there’s no chance.”

“Which is why we make him like it.” Back to Eren. “We play the best we’ve ever played. We aren’t in Mom’s garage anymore. We put our hearts and souls into this.”

A moment of hesitance passed. Eren met everyone’s gaze, holding each of them for ten seconds. His piercing green eyes seemed to look into their minds, reading every desire they’ve ever had.

Finally, they all slowly nodded. An agreement passed between them and they exchanged a smile. When the stagehand called to them to say they were ready, Jean began lazily playing a quiet tune on his bass.

Eren was the first out. He grabbed the microphone and scanned the crowd. He noticed Mikasa walk closer to where the band stood to take pictures, and his smile widened when he met Erwin Smith’s gaze.

“This is Heart Attack.” Eren flashed his straight teeth again, winking at one of the girls closer to the front, before Connie started the upbeat tune to their debut song, Armin joining in soon after.

Eren tried his best not to let his gaze wander to the booth Erwin sat at. He tried to keep his stare on the wall or the people at their tables, but he always found his eyes moving back to Erwin.

Not knowing what to do every time they made eye contact, Eren winked at him. Erwin had no reaction except a subtle eyebrow raise, and Eren immediately regretted his decision.

After they had bowed and strolled off, Eren ran a hand over his face and groaned. The group of them found Mikasa on the ground floor and walked to the table she’d reserved. Eren pressed his forehead against the wood and began tapping his foot against the floor.

“Dude, what is wrong?” Connie asked. He had ordered a glass that had some caramel colored liquid Eren couldn’t identify and was playing with the straw between his fingers. “You are like, stressing. Which is understandable since Erwin Smith is here, but-”

“I winked at him.” Eren lifted his head. From the corner of his eye he would see Jean lifting his glass to his lips.

“Huh? Who?”

“Erwin Smith.”

Jean laughed, lowering his glass and covering his mouth with a fist. He cleared his throat to cover his laugh and looked away. Eren shot him a glare.

“Why did you wink at Erwin Smith?” Jean teased.

“I don’t know. It just . . . happened.”

“How do you just happen to wink at someone?” Armin asked. He smiled, teasing Eren, “Was there something in your eye?”

“No! It just . . . I don’t know! But I’m scared. What if he’s homophobic, man? What if that’s the only reason he won’t talk to us is because he thinks I’m gay?”

Marco tensed, but the subtle way he straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip on his cup went unnoticed by everyone except Jean.

Jean’s eyes moved to look at him. He didn’t turn his head, but when he saw the fake smile on Marco’s face as he made a comment Jean didn’t hear, he gently squeezed Marco’s knee.

A soft guitar melody filled the air, a stark contrast to the harsh music that had previously filled the club. Marco turned his head to the stage where a girl in a short cream dress, her hair tied out of her face with a red ribbon, sat on a stool and strummed her guitar. He watched for a moment before turning back to the table.

“I genuinely think I might die,” Eren said. He was leaned back in his chair now, his legs splayed so far out beneath the table that they hit Connie in the shins.

“Sit up right.” Connie playfully kicked Eren’s legs. “Your legs are too damn long for you to relax like that.”

The group laughed. When Armin turned his head to watch the girl on the stage, his gaze instead caught on Erwin Smith, who was standing up from his table.

His eyes followed the man, watching as he bowed to the woman sitting with him and shrugged on his coat. The woman smiled and waved at Erwin as he left the booth, and Armin’s eyes widened as he realized that Erwin Smith was walking towards them.

Armin turned his head to face the table so quickly he thought he pulled a muscle. He coughed to catch the table’s attention, and when they turned to him he quietly said, “Erwin Smith is walking this way.”

Eren’s eyes slightly widened. He craned his neck to see around Armin and immediately straightened when he saw that his friend was telling the truth. He slapped his hand against the table as of warning Jean and Connie to stop bickering.

He cracked a stupid joke right as Erwin began passed behind him. No one even understood what he had said, which earned him questioning glances from everyone at the table before Erwin positioned himself between Eren and a Mikasa’s chairs.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. He placed a hand on the back of Erin’s chair, making sure his presence was noticed.

As if anyone wouldn’t notice if Erwin fucking Smith was looking directly at them.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Eren said. He regretted it immediately because who talks to a celebrity like that? He cleared his throat, trying to put up a front that said he knew what he was doing here. “Can I help you?”

Erwin opened his coat, reaching into a pocket that must have been inside and pulled out a business card. He held it out to Eren. “I’m the owner of Scout Records. I really enjoyed what you boys did tonight. I’d like you to sign with the company, if it interests you.”

Eren, who had been looking up at Erwin as he spoke, moved his gaze to the business card. It had a sleek design, one single dark green line moving across the entire card underneath the words Scout Records. Beneath all of that was his name and basic information, including an email and phone number to contact.

“Of course, I’ll contact you again at a later date if you haven’t decided, but this is your choice.” Erwin moves his gaze from Eren’s and meets that of everyone else around the table. “All of you.” His stare paused on Mikasa. “We can even find a spot for your publicist.”

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat as Eren nodded. Publicist. She didn’t consider herself that, but the title had a nice ring to it.

Erwin bowed his head, bidding the group goodbye before turning and walking out of the jazz club.

The group waited until the door had closed behind Erwin before they started cheering. This was it. This was their shot.

Maybe they really did have a chance in this industry.

—

When they returned to their apartment that night, they popped open a cheap bottle of wine and drank from plastic cups to celebrate. They spilled the liquid haphazardly on the floor and counters, but didn’t bother to clean it up. Even Mikasa had set her phone to the side and allowed her head to become buzzed.

She regretted it the next morning, of course, because she was a lightweight and the headache she woke up with felt as if it was splitting her skull apart. She knew she woke up much later than she normally did because Eren wasn’t beside her in the bed and she could hear voices coming through the wall from the living room.

She stood and stretched, pulling a hoodie on over her tank top before opening the bedroom door.

“No, if we call him right now we’ll seem desperate.”

“Aren’t you the one that has been praying we’d get noticed for years? And when we finally do you don’t want to jump on that opportunity?”

“I’m playing smart here, Jean. If we contact them too early then we’ll seem excitable and naïve.”

“Please, Eren. He offered us. We won’t look pathetic if we call and say we accept his offer.”

Eren exhaled. Mikasa saw him press his lips into a thin line. “We have to play the long game-“

“If we play the long game then we’re gonna get dropped-“

“What would you know about this shit anyway? It’s not like you have a fucking degree in-”

“And you know anything more than I do?”

Their voices continued raising and they continued talking over each other. The pain in Mikasa’s head became so evident she could feel it in her fingers. Her ears were ringing, and she had one finger pressed to the inner cartilage of her ear as she aggressively grabbed Eren by she shoulder.

“Shut up,” she said, letting him go. “It’s too early for the two of you to be arguing, and I’m pretty sure everyone else is still sleeping.”

Mikasa walked over to the fridge and opened it, taking out the carton of eggs. She grabbed a cup from the cabinet. She pulled two eggs from the carton and spilled both of them into the cup. After throwing the shells away, she grabbed hold of the cup before taking a deep breath and downing its contents in one go.

Her face scrunched and her eyes closed. She held the last but in her mouth, reluctant to swallow before gulping it down. When she opened her eyes, she saw that both Eren and Jean were looking at her with the most horrified expressions me she had ever seen.

Mikasa gulped one more time, trying to get the taste out of her mouth, before washing the glass and saying, “What?”

Eren blinked. Jean ran a hand through his hair.

“You just drank two raw eggs,” Eren said.

Mikasa shrugged, setting the glass down in the sink and turning around. “So?”

Eren blinked again, though this time it was more aggressive. He put his hands on the edge of the faux marble counter. “You just drank. Two raw eggs,” he repeated.

“What the hell is wrong with you.” Jean jokes, though it seemed as though some part of him was genuinely bewildered about what could possibly make Mikasa drink raw eggs.

“Yeah.” Mikasa leaned against the sink behind her and crossed her arms and ankles in front of her. “It’s a remedy for hangovers. My mom used to do it when she had one, and that one time I came back from a night of drinking she gave it to me. It worked, so.” She shrugged again.

Eren blinked a few more times before shaking his head and straightening. Jean, however, still looked baffled at Mikasa’s actions, but he eventually shook it off and continued eating the bowl of cereal in front of him.

Mikasa blinked a couple more times in confusion before shaking her head and continuing about her day. She took a seat at the dinghy table and stared at the grain in the wood. She wondered for a moment how her parents were doing, but when she reached for her phone to text them, she realized that she had no idea where her phone was.

It wasn’t in her room. If it was then it would have been the first thing she checked in the morning. She scanned the table and didn’t find it there either.

Panic began settling in as her gaze frantically traveled around the room. She didn’t want to tell anyone because a phone isn’t all that when you really think about it. Except for her it is. That’s her life. Her job. Her livelihood, if she loses her phone then she loses her memory card and she’ll never get it back.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

“Are you looking for this?” Jean came up beside her and held something in front of her, the familiar polaroid of Mikasa and Eren at their eleventh grade prom catching her eye.

She looked up at Jean as she gently took it from his hands and nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Instinctively, she checked the time. 11:34. It was so much later in the day than she thought.

Jean returned her nod. “Yup.”

He put his hands in the pockets of his sweats, awkwardly standing beside her. Neither of them said anything. Mikasa wanted to break the silence, but she didn’t know how.

“How’s it going with Marco?” she decided to ask. Jean and Marco had never officially came out, but they were obvious enough that the band knew about it—or that something was there, at least. No one was sure if they were officially together or not. Not to mention the way they look at each other when the other isn’t paying attention.

Jean nodded. “Yeah. It’s going good.”

Silence enveloped the room again. It was Mikasa’s fault, really. She shouldn’t have asked such a dry question.

Jean began drumming his fingers against the edge of the counter, the consistent noise driving Mikasa crazy. Her still present headache was not helping.

“I think you guys should call Erwin.” She couldn’t take the silence anymore. Or the tapping. “He’s the one that offered. He wants you guys with his studio.”

Jean blew out a breath. “Yeah. Tell that shit to Eren. That asshole won’t let up.” He crossed his arms and looks up, staring out the window. “He thinks playing the long game will better our chances of going big. You know what’ll help us go big? Accepting the offers we fucking get.”

Fantastic. Mikasa had led Jean on a spiel. At least it was better than his insistent tapping.

“Not to mention it’d better your chance of making it, too. Prove to him that you don’t have to be at home to be successful or happy.”

Jean and Mikasa held each other’s gazes. She always treaded carefully around him, especially with the history of feelings they had. She didn’t quite know if he had gotten over her completely, but his situation with Marco must mean something.

“You should tell him,” Mikasa said. They both know who she was talking about.

“He knows,” Jean replied. “He just . . . I think he’s scared.”

Mikasa nodded. She understood. Maybe not entirely, but she got it. She knew how it felt to pine after your best friend for years, but she didn’t know how it felt to feel that way about a girl. Especially when your family is as religious as Marco’s.

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Let him figure it out.”

“I know. I’m trying to. I am, but . . . You know me.”

She did. Jean Kirschtein was loud about the love he had and who it was for. He was the love interest in cheesy rom coms that did grand gestures for no reason just to declare his love. He was the one that would run into the airport minutes before your flight to win you back. He was the one that would travel halfway across the world just to give you flowers. He was the one that would somehow gather his graduating class to orchestrate a dance just to ask you to the prom.

He was the one that was being forced into silence to give his love time.

“It just sucks.”

Mikasa offered a soft smile, though it was clear that it did nothing to help. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a bit. It’s not as suffocating and choking as the one before, but there is still that air of tension about it. Jean leaves the main room after he drops his cereal bowl in the sink, the fake ceramic clinking against its metal walls. Mikasa watched him go, waiting until she heard his bedroom door close to pull out her phone.

She pops open the case. Eren had given her Erwin Smith’s business card before they had all started drinking. He said she would keep it safe, and she did.

She flipped it over, copying the number into her phone and holding it up to her ear. She listened as it dialed, biting her nail as she waited. It felt like she sat there forever, and she pulled the phone away to hang up when she was sure no one would answer.

“Erwin Smith’s office. How may I help you?”

Mikasa’s lips stretched into a wide smile as she quickly brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’m Mikasa Ackerman. I’m calling to talk to Erwin Smith about the offer he extended to the band Heart Attack last night. At Quasimodo.”

She heard shuffling on the other line, before a couple clicks. “Yes, of course. He told me to keep an eye out for your band. I’ll schedule a time for him to contact you. Expect a call at around 2:45, alright?”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman on the other line gave Mikasa a few more details, such as what number to expect the call from. She made sure to say that Mikasa would not receive a text or email, that it would be a call only from a number Mikasa had to write down to remember.

Two hours later, Mikasa sat in the bathroom hiding from everyone, on the phone with Erwin Smith himself.

—

“You did not,” Eren said after they had received a package. He looked up at Mikasa, who was sitting at the table and eating a bowl of pomegranate seeds.

“What?” She looked up from her phone, hiding a smile. She had seen the box earlier in the day, and only brought it inside for someone else to open and be surprised by.

Eren carried the box over to the table and dropped it, ripping the tape with his keys and opening the cardboard flaps. He revealed emerald green tissue paper wrapped around something else, an envelope with the band name written in gold sitting on top.

In the top corner of the envelope, Scout Records was stamped in capital letters.

Mikasa gasped, feigning surprise as she set her phone down and stood up. She walked next to Eren, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations!” she said, though it wasn’t convincing. She wasn’t a very good actor, and this situation was no exception.

Eren looked at her, his gaze piercing. “You called them.”

Mikasa nodded. She held Eren’s stare, refusing to back down and apologize. She watched the gears in his head turn before he turned his head, facing the wooden table as he laughed.

He slapped his hand on the table, catching Mikasa by surprise when he also wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“Thank you so much, Mikasa.” Without thinking, Eren kissed the top of her head. “I think I genuinely love you.”

Mikasa’s cheeks burned. She managed a soft smile as she pulled away enough to look up at Eren’s face. He was beaming, his smile so wide it showed all his teeth and so bright Mikasa swore the room had lit up.

Mikasa’s own smile widened. “Well if we had gone with your timeline then they would have forgotten about the offer. I have a meeting with him in a little bit about terms and conditions and stuff like that.”

“You’re meeting with him?”

Mikasa nodded. “I’m your publicist, aren’t I?”

Eren laughed again—a soft, breathy laugh that made Mikasa’s heart beat so loud she couldn’t hear anything else.

Eren let her go after saying something she didn’t catch. He woke up Jean (who had been sleeping on the couch while watching women’s boxing. Mikasa was positive he just turned something on for background noise) before going down the hall to bother Connie, Armin and Marco.

Their exclamations of happiness soon filled the apartment, and while they were yelling and jumping around, Mikasa slipped into the bedroom she shared with Eren and changed into something more presentable.

She switched her T-shirt and shorts for a black dress that had puffy sleeves. She put striped black tights on beneath it and spent too long deciding whether or not to wear a jacket over everything.

She decided not to, instead throwing it on her side of the bed and looking herself over in the mirror. She flattened stray hairs and fixed a bit of makeup, finally grabbing her bag before walking back out into the main room.

“And would you look at that! Annie Leonhart wins her first ever match fresh out of the Warrior program.”

Mikasa walked to the front door as she looked at the TV. She began slipping on her shoes, tying the laces up as she watched the blonde girl on the screen lift her fists in triumph as she walked around the rink. There were red stripes down her cheeks, ones so bright that Mikasa thought she was bleeding before realizing it was makeup.

“Now, we know that the Marleyan Warriors produce fantastic athletes, but I think this is the most potential we’ve seen in one. Don’t you think, Keith?”

“Absolutely. Annie Leonhart lives up to her title of the Female Titan. She comes in with such a loud presence and makes sure you know she’s there.”

The blonde girl bowed, the camera following as she steps out of the rink and down the walkway. The commentators—Theo Magath and Keith Shadis, Mikasa reads off the screen—continued talking about her performance, replaying clips from her match against a much stockier woman. It was a wonder that Annie won, they were saying.

“What are you watching?” Mikasa asked. She stayed by the door, but spoke loud enough so Jean could hear her from his spot on the couch.

Jean shrugged, muting the TV and standing up. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned. “I just turned something on. It’s women’s boxing, though. I think.”

Mikasa nodded, reaching over to the rack beside the door to grab her keys and wallet. “Okay. I’ll be back. I have a meeting with Erwin, but I’ll bring food later, so don’t eat anything.”

Jean smiled, turning off the TV and looking over at her. “Thank you.”

The corners of Mikasa’s lips tilted up, and she gave another soft nod before opening the door and leaving.

—

Connie’s scream of excitement was so piercing it had a little girl across the street covering her ears, mustering the harshest glare she could towards him.

“Connie, shut the fuck up,” Jean said, swinging an arm around the drummer. “We’re gonna get kicked off the streets.”

“Jean.” Connie gripped Jean’s opposite shoulder, the popsicle in his hand millimeters from falling off its stick and onto the floor. “Not only did we get offered a spot at Scout Records, but Mikasa also called to confirm we still have it. And we do! So now tell me, why shouldn’t I be screaming at the top of my lungs about this?”

Jean rolled his eyes, but a wide smile spread across his face as the two of them found a table to sit at. Marco, Eren, and Armin were still in the store looking for something to eat, so Jean and Connie slid onto the benches across from each other as they waited for a few minutes.

Jean opened his mouth to say something when they settled in, but he saw the rest of the band practically bouncing out of the convenience store with bright smiles on their faces. They were whooping and hollering, careful not to drop their ice creams or popsicles as they jumped around.

Connie joined them, hopping up from his seat and grabbing Marco’s and Eren’s hands. He shook them, his poorly made spongebob popsicle forgotten on the table. It was mostly finished anyway, the only remnants of it being a small pool of flavored water, so Jean picked it up and threw it away.

Someone jumped on him from the side, making Jean lose his balance for a moment. He wrapped his hand around the bar of the trash can before looking over at Marco.

The smile on his face was so wide it showed his dimples. His eyes were shining and his grip around Jean was tight. He was radiant—absolutely perfect in Jean’s eyes.

“We made it,” Marco said breathlessly. There was still the disbelief he had when Eren had originally told them about their record deal in his eyes. “Oh my god, we fucking made it.”

That’s how Jean knew how ecstatic Marco was. He never cursed. Never in a million years did a word as light as crap even leave his lips.

Jean couldn’t help but try and mirror Marco’s smile, but the attempt was fruitless. Nothing could ever shine as bright as this boy he loved so dearly.

“Hell yeah we did.” Jean wrapped his arms around Marco, holding him impossibly closer. “We fucking did it!”

Jean kissed Marco on the cheek in an action that could be passed as chaste, however it was anything but to Jean. Marco hugged Jean impossibly tighter, smiling at him with the soft grin that made Jean fall in love in the first place.

The others pounded on them after that—first Eren with a tackle so aggressive Jean and Marco almost fell over, and then Connie and Armin with pushes that rivaled Eren’s.

They caught themselves before losing their balance, and their laughs rang through the air so loudly that the same little girl Jean had seen glared at them again, this time along with her mother.

They began walking as they separated, Eren and Connie both walking backwards so they could talk without creating an obnoxious line of people.

“Alright guys, let’s talk first studio album. What are we thinking?” Connie held his hands out, welcoming ideas. “Personally, I think we should do the opening track about how birds are government property and are spying on us.”

Eren scrunched his face as Armin chuckled. “What the fuck?” Eren said. “The birds are watching us?”

“Well yeah.” Connie shrugged his shoulders, as if his revelation about birds was as common as grass. “Why don’t you see them in the rain?”

“Because they hide from the rain like any other being with instinct,” Jean said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Connie pointed at him. “False. It’s actually because the birds are robots, and if they get wet then they sizzle and fucking die.” He tutted. “The government can’t have that.”

Jean and Marco laughed. They stood close together, their hands brushing every now and then.

“We are not making an album about robot birds, Connie,” Eren said. “That is so stupid.”

“Well what do you propose we make it about? Because the only other thing that’s good to write about is love, and I remember you saying very explicitly, ‘Love is a bullshit idea that makes soft sound.’”

Eren gasped dramatically. “I said no such thing.”

“We literally said you should write a song about Mikasa and you went on a whole rant,” Armin said.

Eren rolled his eyes. “I do not want to write sappy love songs. That’s cheesy and none of us have anyone anyway.”

Jean didn’t comment, but he glanced over at Marco. Marco kept his gaze ahead, fondly smiling and switching his gaze to whoever decided to tease Eren about his thing with Mikasa.

That’s when he saw it. A sleek, bright red sports car speeding on the street. The windows were blacked out, but someone’s arm was hanging out of one. Jean squinted, trying to see what they were holding.

The person started to climb out, tightening their grip on the object in their hand. Jean couldn’t recognize any significant features about them except the pale yellow hoodie they wore and the red smeared across their cheeks.

They held the object up, fumbling a bit to keep it in their hand as the car sped around. They howled when they almost dropped it, and lifted it.

It was a gun. The light glinted off the metal of the barrel as they haphazardly pulled the trigger, hitting a spot in the grass.

Jean wrapped his hand around Marco’s elbow. Marco turned his head, about to inquire about what Jean needed just as the bassist was about to tell them they needed to go.

But he didn’t get the chance. His words got caught in his throat as another gunshot sounded and Marco stumbled against him.

Jean held him up, trying to steady him with Armin’s help as Connie and Eren looked around. Eren fumbled with his phone as he tried calling the police after he spotted the car. When Jean pulled his hand away to readjust his hold, bright red blood, warm and sticky, stared up at him.

BANG!

JEAN: We all watched him die. He just crumbled against us and . . .

ARMIN: Blood was coming out of his mouth. He was choking on it trying to talk and I- [sniff] There was nothing any of us could do. We just stood there trying to help but we couldn’t.

EREN: I think about it, sometimes. Especially when I’m alone at night. I think that if I had been faster with my phone then the police would have been there faster, and maybe we could have saved them.

JEAN: The only thing I saw when I looked up was blonde hair. Whoever shot Marco had already gotten back in the car while it was speeding away.

CONNIE: Marco was . . . He was everything to us. Heart Attack lost their heart that day. [wipes tears] It was fucking hard after that.

EREN: We spent a long time not doing anything. It would have been longer if Erwin hadn’t threatened us with losing our record deal. We came up with “Holiday.”

ARMIN: Marco wrote the keyboard track for that. Before he died. It was the last song of ours he had something to do with.

JEAN: [voice cracking] I need a minute.

sorry this is so late life got unexpectedly busy 😭

anyways hope you guys have a fantastic rest of your day <3

TAGLIST: @arlerts-angel @conniesrockstargf @fvckingeetar @pluckyduxck @hoejosblindfold @beaniebaby12 if you's like to join the taglist please comment or DM to let me know!

next part >>

[mrsackermannx]

SAME CHARACTER - DIFFERENT FONT

[kayla-crazy-stuffs]

(I was kinda lazy so most of the days until 17 are going to be pictures and not drawings :"])

Day 05: Your OTP (I didn't know what it meant, so I searched it on google, I hope that means what I think it means)

♡ JeanMarco ♡

[bzbzbzzz]

@amadinan

[whxre4hange]

the most disturbing deaths in aot

manga spoilers below! u hav been warned!

honestly, all of the deaths in aot were horrifying in their own way, but in this post, im just gonna brain-puke my thoughts about all of the most terrible deaths (in my opinion)

carla

eaten alive by her husband’s ex wife 

covered her own mouth so her son wouldn’t hear her weeping for him to come back so she wouldn’t have to die alone ):

also connie’s mother (as a pure titan) recognised connie enough to say “welcome home”

so u cant tell me dina didn’t know who carla was....

>:(

mike

the guy is usually so strong, composed, everything a leader should be

and he was screaming like a child when being eaten alive

it freaked me out 

nanaba

similar to mike, a survey corps veteran who was eaten alive

screaming for her father to stop the whole time, indicating some kind of trauma

broke my heart into a million pieces

her death was pretty much forgotten but it stuck with me

marco

and even at the end of the manga

i couldn’t forget the ‘disposable’ character who still had an impact years after his death

he was so fkn innocent and sweet

he wasn’t even angry

he just wanted to talk things out ): 

faye

a literal child who just wanted to see the air ships

torn apart by fucking dogs

i can’t comprehend how people can do that kind of awful stuff

especially to a CHILD

as someone who has a sibling that age

idk it really just

yeah

isabel

again, a literal child, who had no idea what she’d gotten into

brutally killed, still believing that levi would come and save her 

farlan

and farlan, who refused to run even when he knew he’d die a gruesome death

who waved farewell to levi, a slight smile of acceptance gracing his face

ymir

who willingly went to marley, knowing she’d die, to save historia 

who died knowing that she’d never get to marry the love of her life

she was so full of a drive to survive

but in the scene where she was chained up to die

she just looked broken 

marlo

and all of those soldiers that charged headon into certain death

who thought of hitch just before he died

she was thinking of you too; worrying about a man who would never return

hannes

who was so wracked by grief and regret that he charged the smiling titan just to avenge Carla

he mightve had a chance to survive, but he got so caught up in avenging carla (e.g. torturing the titan instead of going for the kill because of all of the trauma she caused eren and mikasa), he didn’t

who closed his eyes as he died 

he had a good redemption arc but still ):

and all of those survey corps soldiers who died, screaming in fear, pain and anguish. theres too many to name here, but yeah

okay back to crying now! would love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)

[sonofthesaiyans]

Gotta get some new stuff going.....

Should I do a Marco Deserves Better post sometime in the near future? I should probably get to reviving this little series of mine in due time.

[mitchiegonewild]

more on my marco post

(not so) hot take on marco, but he’s not “boring”, he’s kind. everyone only likes kind characters in the show if they also have some secret darkness inside of them. armin is seen as kind because of how selfless he is like marco, but he’s also manipulative and can act emotionless at times. sasha is nice because she gives people the benefit of the doubt like marco, but she also can be greedy. ymir is ultimately seen as a good person because of her devotion to historia like how marco was devoted to his friends, but ymir is also abrasive and crude. marco didn’t have a flaw like that, he was just genuinely nice and didn’t have enough time to develop any immediately clear bad traits. he played chess with armin who was known to be called weird by the other cadets, he cares about eren’s feelings and past traumas when everyone else was content to just badger him about it, he befriends jean even though he’s kind of an ass pre-marcos death, and of course, when being murdered, he just wants to talk things out. we can let marco be a kind person without calling him boring or using it as a reason for him to die.

[jthezombshark]

Another JeanMarco fanart for y’all

It’s them in the highschool manga au thing and I know that’s not jean hair in the school manga but it’s UGLY and I would NEVER draw that FUGLY, MUSTY, REDNECK HAVIN’ ASS, ‘YEE-YEE’ HAIR ASS HAIRCUT DAWG >:(

[daysiwrld]

starboy ★╭﹐🎧﹕prologue﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹

[stargirl interlude — the weeknd]

"i just wanna see you shine cause i know you are a star girl"

1:15 ────────•───── 1:51

prologue —

jean kirstein::

aries ♈︎ || nineteen || 6'4 || sophomore in college

overall character:

energetic and extroverted, but tries to conceal it because he thinks it's embarrassing. he's very popular since he's a football player, but he isn't an asshole like most. has had quite a few girlfriends and is known to be a flirt. when he likes someone he's not afraid to show it whether it be physically or verbally. cares deeply for his friends especially sasha, marco, and connie. really close to his mom and would do anything for her. doesn't know much of his father and doesn't care about him, the only thing he knows is that his father is a spaniard [ew]. knows how to play drumset, a hobby he picked up in his early teens, it also helps him blow off steam when he's angry. seems self-centered but isn't. he is very thoughtful and thinks about others before himself. he's a bit cocky but has good reason to be since he's good at everything he does. he does have a few flaws. when he's angry he says things without giving them thought and refuses to listen to the other person. he can take things for granted and doesn't realize it until it's too late. he also gets jealous quickly and gets slightly possessive because of it. his relationships are always short because the moment it feels unstable he leaves to protect his feelings.

DISCLAIMER:

i don’t know when i’ll actually start writing the first chapter of this book since i’m writing a eren x latina!reader right now. i want to focus on that one until i’m at least eight chapters in. but i wanted to get a little prologue out because everyone seemed static when i announced it on tiktok. i already have a rough idea of how this story is going to play out so i can’t wait to write it!! sorry y’all will have to wait, but im the biggest procrastinator and if i try to work on two fics at the same time i’ll never get anything done. i promise the wait will be worth it!! also, my eren fanfic is a slight!jean x latina!reader as well, so go read if you’d like to see some jean action. i’m actually basing the jean in this fanfic off the one in my eren fanfic!! (:

i wanted to say that i don't want to surround y/n's character & personality around the fact that they're latine. the reason i'm saying this is because i want to try to be inclusive to all latine when writing this. i'm from central america so automatically any slang i use will be slang that's used mainly in central american countries. now imagine if i revolve y/n's character/personality around the fact that they're latine...it won't really be inclusive. you feel me? when i thought about writing this, it was more of a self-insert, and it still kinda is, but the only parts i will be using from my life are the universal experiences that i think most, if not all, latine go through. latine generational trauma is no joke and i want to be able to incorporate that into this story, the insecurities, family issues, the difference between latine parents and their american born/raised children, etc. there will be spanish dialogue and food, and all that jazz, but it won't be to an extreme. i also want latine who feel like they're not in touch with their culture to be able to enjoy this story, you feel me? the point is, y/n will not be a full-blown ranchera, catracha, etc, but they won't be a "no sabo", as people like to say.

also, even though this is specifically for a latina!reader, anyone can enjoy this story! but please, DO NOT make ignorant comments, use slurs, etc if you're not latine!

i will say some of what i write will be inspired by other jean fanfics, i've read many, but i will ALWAYS credit the author at the beginning of a chapter if i use any ideas from their work. if it ever seems that i have stolen an idea, please let me know ASAP, it could be a coincidence that i have the same idea [in the case that i haven't read their work] or i could've forgotten to credit them, either way, let me know!

reminders!

— angst & smut will be included. okay, i've never written smut before so please don't be too mad if it isn't the best at first, i promise i'll get better!!

NONE OF THE ATTACK ON TITAN CHARACTERS BELONG TO ME, THEY BELONG TO HAJIME ISAYAMA. ONLY THE PLOT OF THIS STORY & ANY OCs I POTENTIALLY CREATE BELONG TO ME.

story will contain drug use, alcohol use, & sexual content. sensitive topics WILL be spoken about [i will ALWAYS put a trigger warning at the beginning of chapter if deemed necessary], characters are 18+, & strong language will be used.

related!

this story will be posted to wattpad, archive of our own, & tumblr! this story will not be posted anywhere else unless annouced by me! if you see my story posted elsewhere please let me know asap. all my accounts have the same user, 222eren, if you see a different user posting my story on any above-mentioned platform please let me know.

i made a pinterest board 4 this fanfic! it's what i personally envision the aesthetic to be, but that's just me, if you don't like it just ignore it lol. my pinterest is earth2daysi, but the link to the board is in my linktree. i also made a spotify playlist which i highly recommend to follow, i've added some songs to it already some of them will be used in chapters and others are just so you can catch the vibe, you know. the link to the playlist is also in my linktree.

to get updates on my story i will likely post them on twitter, so if you're an ao3 reader especially, i recommend following my twitter for updates. i'm still trying to figure out the ao3 website so if there's a way post an announcement on there, i will do so.

twitter: 222jaeger

tiktok: earth2daysi , i don't think i'm gonna post all updates on here because i make content other than this fanfic, but feel free to follow.

thank you all for the support, i really appreciate it, like seriously. the response i got to the idea of me writing this fanfic is absolutely astonishing, and makes me really happy. see y'all at chapter one

- daysi

[airybcbyy]

Don't Let Go

Marco Bodt x reader

Cw; angst, Marco survived his lil ol titan encounter, friends to lovers, lovers to strangers, let me know if I missed any!

synopsis; You and Marco met and fell in love while in the scout regimen, but after a brutal injury the Marco you knew is gone.

every good thing has to end terribly. that's how you viewed it, but maybe this time it'd be different.

Marco Bodt was never someone you had been planning on meeting, or even staying friends with. Except, when you joined the scout regiment and saw the happy-go-lucky boy with someone who quite resembled a horse. Of course, you weren’t here to fall in love. You were here to get revenge for your family, all killed by titans. So you’d sit patiently, maybe sit near him at times just to get over him faster, and get over this silly little crush.

Well, that was what you would’ve liked to do, but of course Marco Bodt had other plans. He smiled at you, more than usual, after your first mission together. He talked to you and disappeared from his friend group’s chats to come sit with you by the fire. He became a calming presence to you, one that you were a little too reliant on. 

When you and Marco began dating, it was sweet and simple. Small kisses in passing, late night talks while staring at the stars and simply dreaming of the days before the titans had broken down the walls. You two had actually were from the same district, but lived on opposite sides. You couldn’t imagine Marco growing up on the nicer side of the place that you were always so ready to leave before the world went to hell.

You had been dating for about 3 months before his accident. Before the Marco you had been ever so intimate with had completely changed due to the betrayal of others.

Marco getting severe head trauma was hard. Him being in a coma and having to stay in the hospital bed next to him every night was harder. But hearing him ask who you were when he awoke? That was the hardest. Marco, the man you’d loved more than you thought humanly possible, couldn’t even remember your name. 

That was okay. You’d simply refresh his memory by becoming great friends with him again. Maybe that would wake up the part of his brain that had forgotten all about you and your love towards the man. Except, Marco wasn’t the same at all.

He was stricter, meaner, and colder towards everyone. He still befriended his old group once again, you’d even heard them trying to refresh him on the love that you two had shared one. Yet, he never seemed interested in talking to you again.

You tried and tried and tried. Nothing was waking Marco’s brain from the hidden spot of where it had kept the feelings you knew he had for you.

Oh love, it’s beautiful isn’t it? You were truly in love. At least that was what it seemed. You loved him so much, your heart would beat faster every time you saw his face, every time you heard his voice, every time his hand brushed past yours. But now? Oh… now you look like two strangers. Strangers who never had a story together. Strangers that are insignificant one to another. How could you both? How could you forget all those feelings like this? How could you start over and pretend that never happened? Sometimes, in the silence of the night, under the light of the moon and the brightness of the stars, you think about him. About the ‘us’ that never got to be. About your beautiful love. The memories you got, the places you’d gone, the songs you heard. You miss all of that, You miss him entirely, every single thing of him. That horrible night, you didn’t lose just a lover, you lost a friend. A best friend. How could you ever let this happen? How could you lose him this way? Oh if you only could turn back time and beg a little more for him to stay and not go to find annie, reiner, and bertholdt… maybe, maybe you two could be happy together like you both had wished for.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED MY RETURN TO TUMBLR POST. LOVE U BAES.

[crazychaoticizzy]

“I’m Coming…”

Hearing Jean’s last words makes you remember someone you knew a long time ago…

WARNINGS: angst, death, hurt (no comfort?), domesticated Jean Kirstein, Jean is a bisexual if you squint really fucking hard, the title is not kinky.

Word Count: 944

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

This was it…

Jean Kirstein was on his last legs. The same Jean Kirstein who always had something witty to quickly reply with when someone said something ridiculous. The same Jean Kirstein who had gradually become a much better person as the years passed by, who had finally become comfortable in his own skin. The same Jean Kirstein that always had an effective plan for everything.

Your Jean Kirstein was nearly dead. You wished you could do something about it, but it was out of your hands. You needed to let nature take its course.

You sat by his side the entire time. It was a much longer process than you anticipated. Your two grandchildren stayed with the two of you nearly the whole time. Your own children were present as well, though they had their own things to do around the house.

It was late into the evening. While Jean laid in bed and you sat beside him in your chair, your three children conversed. They recounted old memories in his last moments, answering any questions your grandchildren had.

It finally happened when the room was silent, grandchildren quietly reading or drawing and your own watching their father with sad eyes.

You were holding his hand. Tears had already started falling because you knew, you knew these were his last breaths. You knew that after today there would be no more of his witty remarks, his beautiful laugh. No more smudged graphite drawings of long forgotten faces scattered around the house. No more of him.

He squeezed your hand once, which you returned. You brought a hand to cover your mouth and let out a silent sob.

Immediately the rest of your family had come into the room and pulled their chairs closer to his bed, tears filling their eyes as they quietly spoke to him, wishing him well in wherever one went after death.

He had a slight smile on his face, and he brought your hand to his lips to

leave a soft kiss on your fingertips. “I love you,” he said softly.

You nodded, bringing your head down to connect your intwined hands with your forehead. “I love you, too.”

He smiled contently, blinking slowly before he looked up at the ceiling. “I’m coming, Marco…”

Those were his last words. His final breath left you a sobbing mess, so overridden with grief that your entire body shook. You swear your heart shattered into trillions of pieces, and you had just lost the second half of your soul to death’s cruel, cold hands.

You recalled his final words, smiling through the pain at them because he remembered his best friend in his final moments.

You had thought less and less about Marco as the years passed, coming to terms with his death after a while and accepting it. He was taken too soon, and while it left you sobbing for months, you knew you needed to move on.

Jean, however, thought about Marco almost daily. You would sometimes catch him silently talking to himself in a room, speaking aloud to update Marco on life’s happenings. You’d sometimes see a face that resembled the freckled boy’s among the collections of sketches in his study.

It was an arrow to the heart. Both of your best friends were now dead. The loves of your lives gone, and there was almost nothing left for you to live for…

Almost…

“Gramma?” It was your youngest grandchild. She couldn’t pronounce D sounds, so she always skipped over them. She gently tugged at your skirt, and you looked down at her with wet cheeks. Quietly, she asked, “Who’s Marco?”

The room went quiet again. No one else said anything, but you knew they had that same question.

You and Jean never shared much about the time before you had children. Your time as soldiers was tragic and bloody and neither of you felt particularly eager to relive it. On the rare occasion that you did, you always made sure it was something more lighthearted. The most they knew about your lives before they were born is that you and Jean were soldiers of Eldia, who bravely fought to protect the world from Eren Yeager.

They didn’t know anything.

They didn’t know about life inside the walls—before it was made know that there were entire countries out in the world.

They didn’t know about your time as cadets and the rigorous training that made you into brave soldiers.

They didn’t know about the Titans that once made Eldians live in fear.

They knew nothing about the betrayal of Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt, and how devastated everyone became when they learned that their trusted comrades were foreign enemies.

And they knew nothing about Jean’s other half Marco, who died a terrible death far too soon…

You lifted your granddaughter onto your lap, taking a shaky breath in. “Give me a moment, okay?” She nodded as you wiped your eyes, still letting out silent cries. “I promise to tell you everything.”

And when you finally spoke they listened. Your family listened so intently. You told them about your time as cadets, about when you were part of the Survey Corps. The discovery of Eren’s Titan abilities and Marley and the Rumbling and Ymir and everything you could think of and remember. The faces may have faded and the colors may have gone dull and the memories may not have been as sharp as they needed to be, but you remember the way you felt as vividly as if it was yesterday.

And of course, you told them about the second love of your life Marco Bott.

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Hope y’all enjoyed

<3 Izzy