( JEAN KIRSTEIN, AOT )
V. ROCK BOTTOM ‧₊˚♥︎
0.05 | 4:00 PM | 愛

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ༘  jean couldn't believe the predicament he was in right now. admittedly, he already fucked up lending you his uniform, but now he's definitely in even bigger trouble. he doesn't know how, or why it's so easy for you to just ignore the rumors: like they don't exist or something, even though they're in full swing.

worse of all, he's stuck in traffic; and you clearly don't give a shit. "hey," he taps you, which snaps your attention away from your phone. "put this down, and focus on the road," he grabs your phone, and puts it behind the windshield. "if i'm gonna suffer because you volunteered me, then you will too."

jean half-did that for a reaction. "you really must want me to choke you out," you comment from your side of the car, in which jean raises a brow at you. to be fair, he wasn't completely against the idea. you have short french tips or whatever the girls call it, so you wouldn't do much damage.

besides, you're easy on the eyes. it's hard not to stare at you, when you're like perfection come to life. you're still a bitch though, and that much is unattractive enough for jean to pretend you aren't the prettiest thing he's laid eyes on.

and whatever perfume you put on his jersey is still prominent, and he kept thinking about you during practice.

damn, he really needs to get laid.

jean wants to ask you more questions about your impression of him, but he doesn't for the life of him want you thinking he cares. "you can't drive, or something?" it's just a plain insult, jean saw your driver's license in your wallet. "why don't you have your own ride?"

you shrug. "crashed it like a week back," you admit like it's nothing at all. you pull off your seatbelt, and lean over near jean to retrieve your phone from the spot he placed it in. damn, she smells really good, he thinks, before quickly clearing his head. "the other person involved in the incident didn't press charges because he like what he saw," so the car accident was your fault? is being with you right now even safe? fuck no...

"i can see it," jean says, shoving you back down into your seat. "how you crashed your car, i mean...." he clarifies, because he definitely isn't referring to the comment you made about your looks. "what you just did is a safety hazard. you can't just block my view while i'm driving."

"you're at a red light, genius," you say, like it's nothing at all. "that means you're basically parked."

oh god, you sound scary. truly, truly, he will never be in the same car as you, not with you taking the wheel. "how long you had your car before you crashed it?" jean questions, just out of curiosity. "you must have a genius plan cookin' up if you're this calm about it. you're too old to not have any form of reliable transportation."

too old? is not having a car at twenty really that bad?

"i had it for about two years," you tap your phone until the screen lights up. "and easy, my dad is gonna pay for it. i don't even trust myself on the road, so a break from driving around is much appreciated, thank you very much."

jean scoffs at your words, his eyes still on the road as he grabs his buzzing phone. there are messages from his group chat popping up, and he really wants to mute it since they're spamming him, but then again he's interested. if you know connie, then your impression of jean definitely came from him.

armouttahere 🚶🏼
i think they might really
be dating cause this is
crazy... and i know jean
sees our messages. 🙎🏼

baldilocks 👨🏼‍🦲
ong, or maybe he too
busy kissing ass. ik how
[name] is, she always had
that affect. wanted her myself
a couple of months back 🫵🏼

birdman 🦅
jada pulled me out of class
just to harass me about jean bro
that gremlin hoe got the
strength of roman reigns!

armouttahere 🚶🏼
i felt her monster-like stare
in the hallways earlier. felt
very uncomfy, wouldn't
recommend 😞

birdman 🦅
aww don't be sad armin,
papa got you ☹️

baldilocks 👨🏼‍🦲
y'all gay.

👖
tf are y'all talking about?
hold on, the light green. gotta
drop sb off rq, brb in like ten.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ༘  jean felt his phone buzzing even more frantically after he sent that message; so he put his phone on silent mode, and do not disturb.

"once again, how do you know me?" jean steps on the gas, sending the car in motion. since you didn't have your seatbelt on, you flew forward before you quickly caught yourself. jean stifled a snicker, and instead, kept his poker face intact as he watched you complain. "should've been wearing your seatbelt."

you're buckling it on. you roll your eyes at jean, holding your forehead. "again, i don't know you. i came across your instagram some time ago, and that's what fathomed my impression of you," you explain, your arms crossed over your chest. "there's nothing special to it—oh, or about you," oh, he sees. you're stealing his words, and turning them against him?

"mhm," he hums, not very convinced even though he could detect your honesty. "which house is yours?"

you point to a brown one. it's decorated decently—it's likely a one bedroom house. do you have a roommate? there isn't a car in the parking lot, which leads jean to believe you were being honest about the crashed car. not that he didn't, it was just the way you handled it... was so calmly.

when jean parks the car, you gather your things to get out. he notices you're about to leave, so he quickly adds; "oh, and you're welcome for the ride," he comments. "since you clearly intended to walk away without saying anything."

"oh, yeah. thanks," that sounded so forced. you don't really have a reason to hate jean aside from the fact that he didn't tell you about the new student prank until it was too late. and he called you out of your name multiple times, and referred to you as bitchy—alright, maybe you do have a reason to hate him.

when you walk away, jean remains in your parking lot. he takes his phone out, and checks the text messages he's received. a few are from jada, some are from random girls, and then theres the group chat with his friends. he's tempted to open it, but he'll wait until he's home. once you're safely inside, he pulls out and heads to his own place.

and of course, theres already a car in the parking lot. it's a pretty pink jeep, and jean is already familiar with the way it looks. hookup or not, anyone with a flashy car like that is memorable.

jada steps out of the vehicle—and damn, jean almost couldn't believe it. she's wearing what's almost an exact replica of his jersey jacket. alright, what in the actual fuck is wrong with her? he approaches, letting out a sigh of relief once he realized it wasn't his; the letter six is upside down. dumb ass.

she might actually be a little crooked in the head.

"what are you doing here?" jean questions, stepping past her to enter his house. it's neat inside; but then again, he's rarely ever here. "i'm not horny, so you can go home."

jean can't believe he even has to tell her this. he fucked her in the janitor's closet for fucks sake, that should tell her what he thinks of her. why is she even attached? he didn't lead her on or anything, he specified before they started hooking up that it would never be anything more that sex.

jean ain't even surprised at this point. this is how is usually goes with girls. still doesn't make it any less annoying, though. "and what's with the jersey? it's obviously fake—don't embarrass yourself," he scoffs, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. he sighs, pulling his shirt off, and folding it atop the counter. he's been itching to get in cool weather for forever now, and his air conditioning feels lovely.

"i'm protesting," she says defiantly. "i'm not sleeping with you again until i get the real jersey."

jean scoffs once more, his eyes finding the other woman. seriously? did she think she had it that good to the point where he'd lose his mind over this? "aight cool," jean carelessly replies. "you ain't all that anyway, i'll just find a replacement."

"so you're really with that girl?" jada questioned, her arms crossed over her chest. "don't tell me you're really willing to give all of this," she's referring to her body, and face. "for that." alright, jean had to admit, jada does have a really nice build to her, and she isn't half bad to look up. shes light-skinned with dyed ginger hair, and hazel eyes—doesn't change the fact that her pussy game is completely whack.

easy pass.

"i'm not dating her," jean clarifies. "if anything, you're more my type than she is," that's a lie. "then again, i don't have to explain myself. just don't go harassing the girl, or no bullshit, you cut off," jean knows jada—and most women he's gone for. "now, can you kindly exit? i got shit to do."

jada nudges jean harshly—but he doesn't budge; too tall, and he's athletic. she slams the door shut on her way out, and eventually disappears.

jean leans against the counter, and pulls his phone out. he searches your name up on instagram, and your account pops up. alright, that was too easy. but then again, a lot of athletes usually have their first and last names in their profiles to protect their digital footprints, or so that they're easier to find.

jean opens your account, and scrolls down the feed for a bit. well clearly you don't seem into the idea of dating him which should be good—but there was something about you that bothered him. your lack of interest, possibly? or maybe it's because so many guys were staring at you in the halls earlier. eh. either way, you grated his nerves.

shamelessly, he opens your instagram story and browses through what you've been posting. jean shouldn't want to be, but fuck it, he's interested.

in finding out what's so odd about you, not perusing you romantically.

gross. as if some stuck-up-volleyball-libero was worth even a nickel of his precious time.