I found another one, this is from 2015. I actually quite like this and I’m sad I never finished it (not that I even remember writing it, but why did I write over 3000 words and then left it at that?). This is Erwin x Jean, so not the most popular ship to say the least, but I had a very soft spot for it. Jean is an adult, of course, wouldn’t want to open that can of worms. Half of the people mentioned are dead by now in the manga, but I dropped it when it got too political, and have only gone back every now and then. I mean, we pretend Marco is still alive, so fuck it, right?
A few, mildly sexual things mentioned, but nothing happens.
--
At first he doesn’t have the time or the energy to pay attention to the people around him, not more than what is mandatory and necessary. He has to rely his life on the hands of his comrades, and he knows their strengths and their weaknesses, but that’s about all the attention he gives to them. He knows he has to stay focused, he doesn’t want to end up titan food, he doesn’t want to end up dead and forgotten before his time, he doesn’t want to end up like… like Marco.
The sting in his chest whenever he remembers the guy has slowly but inevitably subsided with time. It doesn’t make his insides throb anymore. It still hurts, definitely, and it probably always will, but at least he doesn’t think about it as often anymore as he used to.
There are more important things at hand, he knows that. He knows there’s no room for sentiment, except when he’s alone in the darkness in his bed and there’s nothing but room for his mind to go over all the things he keeps locked away at daytime.
At first he doesn’t pay too much attention to the people around him, not more than what is necessary. Sure, there was a time when he liked Mikasa more than as a friend; he found her intriguing and pretty and, later, he started admiring her skills and her level-headedness. But then they all grew up, out of their awkward teenager years and the feelings he had turned into deep affection rather than sexual desire. He likes Mikasa, but rather than wanting to kiss her, he wants to fight against the titans side by side with her. He can appreciate the way she grew up; the way she matured although she always was mature beyond her years compared to her comrades; the way her soft, girlish features turned harder and sharper, and she turned even more beautiful than what she had been.
Jean can appreciate that, and he knows, growing up, half of the 104th training squad probably jerked off to her after the lights were turned off. He knows because he was one of them.
But that was a long time ago. Not long enough to not still make him slightly embarrassed whenever he remembers, but long enough that he knows it was just a phase. They were all trying to fit in the world that was constantly in turmoil around them while trying to figure and sort out their own heads, sexualities, wants and needs.
Some of them found each other, like Connie and Sasha, although that was no surprise. Some of them preferred solitary lives, like Mikasa. Some of them are still trying to figure themselves out, like…
Like Jean.
Because lately he’s been unable to keep himself focused; unable to keep his eyes ahead of him and his head on the task at hand. Ever since they took back Wall Maria life has been easier for all of them, but he knows the war never really ends. He knows that even during the peaceful times he has to stay alert, he has to stay focused.
And this is exactly what he tries to do now. He really tries, but never really giving himself a chance to do proper soul-searching has left him unsure and unaware, a little scared and infinitely curious.
Jean doesn’t really see the map that’s laid out in front of them, although he stares at it hard, trying to make sense of it. His Commander’s finger follows a path across it, easily, smoothly, and his low, husky voice explains something to Jean that doesn’t quite make it through the haze in his mind.
All he can hear is the steady drumming of his heart, and its loudness covers every other sound in the room. His Commander taps a place in the map and he stares at it, stares at the place under his fingertip but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to see.
“Are you listening to me?” Jean hears the question and he swallows the dryness from his mouth, wills the thumping of his heart to quiet down.
“Yes, I’m sorry, sir,” he croaks. “I guess I was lost in my thoughts.” He feels the Commander look at him, staring at him unblinking with that stoic, calm expression he always wears when they’re alone. Life has turned his features harsh, but whenever no one sees, they soften. Not much, but enough for Jean to notice. He’s spent an awful amount of time just admiring his face, admiring his tall, muscular body he carries with certain kind of pride but also humbleness. Like a man who’s seen enough to know he might die any day, any given day outside the walls, but also like a man who knows he’s survived more than many others, and his survival has not been by chance.
“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmurs after a while, and Jean, without raising his gaze from the map, nods. He swallows again and when the Commander straightens next to him and stretches his only arm above his head, his joints cracking, Jean feels a hot twist deep in the pit of his stomach. It makes his heart flutter like a confused swarm of butterflies and he feels lightheaded for a second, and he can’t stop himself from taking a quick glance at the man next to him. The glance turns into a stare that wanders up the strong torso and to the wide shoulders and finally, finally to the sculpture-like face that’s…
That’s staring at him right back. And it’s smiling, at him, at the dumbfounded look on his face.
“Everything alright, Jean?” he asks sympathetically, as if he’s able to see right through the confusion in his face. Jean nods again, but much more hesitantly this time.
He doesn’t understand any of this.
He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly so nervous.
He doesn’t understand why his Commander is looking at him like that, and he doesn’t understand why he can’t look away. He’s staring right into those icy blue eyes that he’s stared into so many times before, but lately it has been harder and harder to tolerate and hold the gaze.
“You look anxious,” his Commander notes. “What’s wrong?” He cares about every single one of his soldiers. He cares about their well-being, their mental stability. He would never bring someone outside the walls if their mind wasn’t in a perfect condition.
Jean wants to say he’s not anxious and that he’s probably just tired, but it’s a lie and he knows he can’t lie well enough, not to his Commander.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he starts sheepishly, but the man raises his hand and Jean falls silent.
“Please,” he says calmly. “Call me Erwin. We’re not working right now and I’d feel more comfortable with you using my first name.” Jean’s breathing hitches as he feels the name around on his tongue.
“O-okay, sir,” he stutters stupidly. “I mean, Erwin.” He believes he hasn’t used the name not once out loud, not in the presence of his Commander. It feels intimate, almost too intimate, but as Erwin smiles to him, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, somehow the intimacy is exactly what he wants. So he smiles back carefully, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
“So what is it, Jean?” Erwin asks with a hint of concern in his voice, and Jean feels a twinge of guilt and shame. Erwin isn’t looking at him anymore; he’s folding the map away, his brow in a concentrated furrow. Everything takes slightly more time with just one arm, but he always refuses the offered help. Politely but sternly. Jean doesn’t know if it’s stubbornness or pride, or if maybe Erwin is worried people are going to start treating him like he’s a lesser man if he ever admitted that getting his pants on in the mornings makes him tremble with frustration. But he keeps his thoughts to himself; he respects the older man too greatly to ever voice them aloud and thus put him in a humiliating position. It’s none of his business, anyway. He bites his lip as he watches Erwin finally folding the last of the map and then opening a drawer, putting the map in. Then he turns to look at Jean, whose teeth sink a little deeper in his lower lip. He raises his thick eyebrows with a questioning look. “Jean?” Jean shakes his head because he can’t come up with even one excuse.
“It’s nothing,” he murmurs shakily. Maybe he’s sick. He feels hot and uncomfortable, the clothes on his back too heavy and too restricting. He tugs at his collar, the fabric pressing against his Adam’s apple, and opens the top button. He feels like he’s choking.
Erwin closes the drawer and then turns to face Jean. He eyes the younger guy silently, contemplating, and Jean’s eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips. He recognises nervousness sliding along his skin, but the sudden, exploding desire is unfamiliar to him. And when Erwin raises his hand and presses the back of it against Jean’s forehead, subtly sweeping his hair away, Jean doesn’t know what to do with himself. So he closes his eyes and concentrates on the rough skin of Erwin’s hand, listens to the older man humming under his breath. The simple touch makes his skin tingle and then Erwin slides his hand down the side of Jean’s face, his fingertips tracing the scar running from his hairline to his cheek.
One of the many near death experiences Jean had outside the walls. The scar dips dangerously close to his right eye but avoids it just merely, leaving his eye untouched. In his nightmares it doesn’t and he’s left with only half of his sight in the middle of a battlefield, his friends, his fellow soldiers dying right and left. In his nightmares he doesn’t escape just barely but gets caught, the fingers of a 15 meter titan crushing around him, and he wakes up drenched in sweat and out of breath, the side of his face aching and burning like the wound is fresh and unhealed again.
The skin on the fingers is rough, hardened, and it makes Jean’s every nerve-ending scream for more. When they reach the end of the scar, they linger for a moment, and if Jean opened his eyes, he would see the touch of worry settling in Erwin’s eyes.
“I remember when you joined the Survey Corps,” he speaks, and Jean’s heart skips a beat at the tone of his voice. It’s deep and dark. “You’ve come a long way, Jean. I know how unfair it must feel for you to be forced to grow up so fast, so suddenly.” His voice softens at the edges and the fingers slide down his cheek, to his sharp jaw. They feel the slight stubble there; Jean knows he’s supposed to look neat at all times, but sometimes his need to sleep in wins his sense of duty to shave.
“You were so different back then, but at the same time you’ve stayed exactly the same. You have the same fire in you, but you’ve gotten better at focusing it.” Erwin sighs around the words and then his hand drops away and Jean wants to lean in, wants to follow the touch.
He has never been touched like that by another human apart from his parents. Not so tenderly. He’s never missed it, not really, not before now. Now the need has been awoken in him and he’s desperate to know how else he can be touched.
He opens his eyes.
“You’ve grown up to be quite a man, Jean,” Erwin murmurs. “Strong, intelligent, capable of working under pressure…”
“Thank you, sir,” Jean breathes, and Erwin doesn’t correct him.
“You’ve put some meat and muscle on your bones, you used to be so skinny, I was worried you might snap in two under pressure.” Jean utters an airy laugh at his words, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t lower his gaze although he knows he’s about to cross a line he shouldn’t cross. He knows he’s not allowed to do this, he’s not allowed to think or feel like this. But that’s exactly why it makes him feel so exhilarated. The small part of him that never grew up still wants to do things that are forbidden, frowned upon, that small part wants to rebel against any restrictions set in his way. “You’re very handsome, too, you must be popular among the ladies.”
“Not really, sir,” Jean answers truthfully.
“Why’s that? Don’t have enough free time to woo them?”
“It’s not that, sir,” Jean begins, keeping his gaze tightly levelled with Erwin’s. “I’m just not interested in them.”
“Ah,” Erwin hums. “I see.” This is new and unknown territory to Jean and he doesn’t know how to move forward, but he’s desperate enough to not care. With every inch of his body he’s yearning for something he can’t explain, something he’s sure only the older man standing in the room with him can offer.
“Well,” Erwin says. “Just remember that no one can make it through life completely alone. It’s not a shame to want a human contact every now and then. It’s a lonely world out there, for all of us.”
Jean feels his heart bloating with joy and excitement. There are a hundred and one things on his tongue, waiting to be let out, but they all escape at once when Erwin reaches his hand again, and brushes it against Jean’s cheek.
“Are you?” Jean asks, and he feels completely out of breath, his hands trembling so hard he has to keep them tightly pressed against his sides. “Lonely, I mean.”
That’s the first step he takes towards the line he’s not supposed to cross.
“Sometimes.” Erwin is sincere. He doesn’t need to lie. He’s just a human like the rest of them, after all. “But it’s different for you and me.”
“How?” Jean is curious. He can’t stop the questions. He really doesn’t want to, either.
“I’ve made my choices in life; choices that have led to severe consequences. I deserve what’s coming for me. You…” He stops to examine Jean’s face, and he takes a look at the scar for the hundredth time. He feels responsible for it. “You aren’t like me. You don’t need to end up like me.”
“Sir, with all due respect, you once told me we all have demons we have to face when the curtain falls.” Jean licks his lip and Erwin’s eyes narrow momentarily at the movement. “Whatever those demons might be, we all have them. Mine might be different but they’re still there. They’re still demons.”
“Sometimes you amaze me, Jean.” Erwin’s voice is low and considered. Jean isn’t completely aware of the respect the older man has for him; he still sees himself as the small brat fighting constantly with Eren about anything and everything. He doesn’t quite realise he’s not just a subordinate to Erwin anymore; he’s an equal. And that’s why, when Erwin’s thumb brushes ever so gently over his cheek and his chin, he doesn’t even dare to hope the man is thinking what he himself is thinking.
“Thank you, sir,” he murmurs barely audible, and in the whim of the moment he raises his hand and rests it on top of Erwin’s.
That’s the second step and now he’s standing on the line, staring his Commander straight into the eye, and he doesn’t even hesitate.
“I told you,” Erwin speaks, his infinite authority making Jean tremble to his core. “You don’t have to call me sir.”
“’M sorry, sir,” he mumbles. “Erwin.” He clings tighter onto the hand on his face, terrified that he’s going to let go, pull his hand away. But he doesn’t. And when Jean, driven forward by this burning desire, force, takes a step closer and reaches his other, shaking hand to rest against Erwin’s chest, the older man tenses slightly under his touch. Then the hand on his cheek slides to the back of his head and Jean is screaming voicelessly.
He crosses the line completely when his fingers tighten into the fabric of his Commander’s shirt and his lips part into a deep breath.
“You know I could get in deep trouble for this. We both could.” The fingers play with the short hair on the nape of Jean’s neck, his head fallen forward and Jean looks up to him with his pupils blown wide.
“Yes,” is all he says. Yes, he knows, but he’s too far gone to care now. If it were to happen, he would deal with the consequences then. The hand tightens and then he’s pulled forward as Erwin dips his head even lower and Jean knows what’s coming and he closes his eyes and lets his Commander catch his mouth into a kiss. His short, blunt fingernails bore into the skin of Jean’s neck and the kiss is rough; Jean submits under it, opens his lips and sighs when his eager tongue is greeted by that of a more experienced one.
He has kissed someone before, but it was clumsy and new for the both of them. Not that enjoyable if he’s completely honest. This is different. This makes his heart nearly leap out of his chest, his knees weak and his cock stray against the zipper of his pants. He masturbates like any other twentysomething year old guy at the peak of their sexuality, but it’s more a of task to get out of the way so he can sleep at nights than something he wants to do, but after this it will probably be different.
Erwin’s mouth is possessive, dominating, and he takes what he wants from the younger guy. He does it slowly, though, takes his sweet time to devour every trembling whimper arising from the back of Jean’s throat, and Jean lets him. He’d let him do whatever he wanted to and then thank him later for it.
Jean is a trembling, melting mess by the time Erwin loosens the grip he has on his neck and lets their mouth part. He’s so hard it’s all he thinks now, the pressure in his groin and the hotness pooling in his gut. He loses all self-control as he tries to chase after the older man’s lips, and he knows he doesn’t look or act very dignified right now.
He doesn’t care.
He’s terrified Erwin’s going to push him away, but when he runs both his hands around the man’s waist, his fingers feeling the strong back muscles through the soft fabric, Erwin pulls him closer. He doesn’t kiss Jean again, not yet, instead he plants a soft, disarming kiss on the top of his head, in his hair, and takes a deep breath of his scent. Jean doesn’t dare to break the silence or the moment; he’s trembling with anticipation and impatience, but he knows he has no right to demand anything. Not in his position.
So he waits, his forehead resting against his Commander’s broad chest, the man’s hand stroking his hair tenderly. He knows Erwin can tell he’s shaking, but at least the older man has the decency not to mention it.
“What are you thinking of, Jean?” Erwin’s voice is low and Jean feels his chest vibrate with the force of his words.
“You,” his mouth works before his mind, and the older man chuckles airily, still stroking the blonde hair between his fingers.
“Always so honest,” he sighs and then he slowly starts pulling back. Jean stays still and lets the man break the gentle embrace. He lets his arms fall on his sides. Erwin doesn’t back off too far, though, and his hand travels under Jean’s chin and he gently forces Jean to tilt his head back slightly.
Whatever he sees in Jean’s face makes him stay silent for a long moment, but Jean is patient. It’s not one of his virtues but with all the things happened in his life, he had to learn. He’s not ready to ruin not one more thing by rushing it. So when Erwin eyes him quietly, his face calm and expressionless, Jean waits. He can feel the heat of anticipation and nervousness colouring his cheeks pink, but he doesn’t hide his face away. He stands tall; proud under Erwin’s watchful eyes, challenging the man with all the unsaid things hanging in between them.
The hand slides off slowly, releasing Jean’s chin, and he lowers his head a little, but not his gaze.
Trying to write a horror Ereri with a side of EruJean fic when your only previous attempt at a horror story had been a lost and unfinished piece at 14...
I don’t really know how to describe this experience or the feeling it brings. I’m certainly excited at the prospect of a new story to write, but I don’t know whether I will be able to pull this off or not. I feel like horror requires a certain minimum level of descriptiveness to cause fear that I haven’t really attempted before.
"Jardines colgantes" (en Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/vHfkKyQhbW Eren es diferente a sus padres: no tiene alas como su madre ni tiene un cuerpo fornido como su padre...es un simple humano al que desprecian en su reino. Sin embargo, es la adoración de su padre que desde niño ha estado a su lado y lo enseña todo lo que sabe. Y pese a que Eren es un omega, su sencillo cuerpo atraera la mirada del rey del desierto,…
Hello, friendo! I was wondering if you could do #57 "Is that my shirt?" with Erwin/Jean?
Thank you for your patience! I might have gotten a little carried away with the word count :3
Rating: Teen and up
Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canadian Jean, Québécois Jean, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, harlequin romance elements, alcohol induced shenanigans
Summary:
Jean has a job interview in Chicago, so he has to get there. Has to. Having his flight delayed to Cleveland, Ohio, because of a snow storm is not going to stop him. Accompanied by businessman Erwin, he sets out on a trek that gets rougher by the mile. Little do they know just how close they will become while the storm howls outside...
