stevie-writes

“Are you ready for tonight?” Jean asks as he watches you busying yourself by shoving notes and books into your bag. You're both in the music room, the place where you've been busy writing and practising and Jean has been watching and occasionally, helping. It's a pattern that the two of you have fallen into over the last month. Well, it's a pattern he's fallen into over the last month anyway – you'd told him that he could come and hang out and he's found himself doing that more and more often. It's become a daily thing when you're both at college. In the last month, Jean's learned a lot about you – your favourite col

And almost as quickly as it came around, the weekend ends and Jean finds himself back at college and suddenly he has no time to even think about you, Ymir, or the conversation he had with Marco because he barely has the time to remember to breathe. Overall, Jean likes to think that he's actually pretty good at keeping up with his projects and his school work, but unfortunately a deadline has approached him with much force and he's spent the last three days on about three hours sleep a night. It's the third day that he's stayed behind after his classes has finished to have free reign of the resources in the art block and he's keeping up now,

It's Saturday afternoon and Jean could not be more bored if he tried. And it's the worst kind of bored, the kind of bored where he just can't settle down and do something without giving up a few minutes later because nothing can hold his attention, he's so... restless. Marco's at work and so Jean technically only has to hold out until he's done and then they can go to the movies with Connie and Sasha and then onto Eren's house for the night, but that's still a few hours away. It's such a drastic boredness that there's even been a few times when he's gone back to his coursework to see if he can do anything to improve on it and it's not even S

And, as it turns out Jean's initial gut instinct was right, he hasn't been able to forget about you, your eyes, or your guitar all weekend because you've been popping into his head at the most inconvenient moments. If anything, that just makes him even more determined in his resolve to be a nicer human to Ymir so that hopefully he can get her to chill out and spill some more info. Jean's even texted her a couple of times this weekend – once to congratulate her on the gig and to ask her if they have anymore coming up, the other to check that they all got back from Hitch's house alright because he's heard how her parties can get (and onl

Well. It's safe to say that The Pussycats won't exactly be setting the music industry alight with their erm... “unique” sound any time soon, or, y'know, probably ever. Their set ultimately consists of only three songs and then almost as quickly as they made their entrance, they're gone, bouncing off the stage and leaving behind a confused and irritated crowd who're probably regretting not throwing their beer bottles at them when they had a chance. Luckily though, because they weren't using their own instruments, a quick tune up later, in one of the quickest set changes Jean's ever witnessed, the actual support band comes on all b

Jean takes a sip of his drink and surveys the room before him, wrinkling his nose. He's unimpressed, with both the disgusting taste of the cheap, shitty beer that the bar offers and at the venue itself. Most of the time, he's okay with crowds, but the small room is making him feel more than a little bit claustrophobic, far too many people are packed into this small space. Still, at least he's by the bar, which is considerably less crowded than it had been a few minutes ago. Because the wave of people who'd surrounded him minutes ago are far too interested in seeing what's about to happen any second now. But Jean won't be fooled, he knows tha

WORDS; 6,390 :\ || NOTES; Reader doesn't have pronouns, but they *do* have a sister and a niece. With a groan, you haul yourself up from your position sprawled out on your bed to look at the clock and check the time, seeing that not a lot has gone past you let out a grunt and allow yourself to drop back down onto the bed. You're bored. So bored. Hella bored. Infact, so ridiculously and utterly bored that you're now at that stage where you just feel tired out, but alas it's way too early to even consider actually getting into your bed. You've mulled many, many ideas to entertain you over in your mind, but literally nothing is holding your att

WORDS: 1,639. || NOTES: There aren't really any pronouns for the reader in this. ---- You looked out of your bedroom window, a small smile playing on your lips as you saw the thick blanket of white outside. Apparently, why you'd been asleep it'd snowed and it had been clearly been rather heavy. The street looked amazing, white covered everything – the rooftops on the rest of the houses in your road looked beautiful, the ground was so covered that you couldn't even see the dull grey concrete you knew lay underneath it, all glistening white. The only thing that slightly marred the picturesque view were the actual roads – salt and

WORD COUNT: 2,231 | WARNINGS: Modern!AU; Slight mentions that could be taken as alcohol?? Reader is female. ---- “Please,” and despite the fact that they came to this party together and that they've remained that way since they arrived maybe an hour or so ago, because Bertholdt hasn't been paying much attention to the friend standing next to him, or anything around him really, Reiner's voice makes Bertholdt jump nervously. “Tell me that you didn't just sigh like a thirteen year old girl.” It takes Bertholdt a second to pull himself together and honestly, he's nervous enough in general as it is so Reiner really shoul

“Oi, Reiner,” Ymir's voice drawls out. “Can you serve her? I'm busy right now.” When Reiner turns to look at his co-worker, she's leaning on the counter with her phone in her hand. He doesn't know how she can class flicking her finger against the screen every so often as busy, but okay... He turns to see who the 'her' she's talking about is and gets his first look at you, standing in the coffee shop where he works, looking up at the menu on the wall. You look uncomfortable and a little lost and confused and he's about to open his mouth and ask if you need help, when you turn and walk to the counter. “Hi,”