Aot Jean - Blog Posts

✨WARNING MAJOR AOT SPOILERS✨

Okay first I wanna address a couple things before I jump right in. This is all my PERSONAL thoughts on how it COULD end, but I’ll be happy with however Isayama ends it. These are just some ideas I’ve had so most of it will be fragments. Also please no hate.

Let’s jump on in

Okay so what I’ve been thinking is what if somehow the group ends up back in the place where Ymir is.

Eren or even Ymir brings them there i don’t know I don’t care just they are there

And like while Mikasa, Armin, Jean and the other adults are arguing with Eren trying to convince him to stop

I want one of the kids, Gabi or Falco. Hell it can be both.

Personally I’d like it to be Gabi.

( and before anyone starts shit about Gabi killing Sasha. Gabi is a twelve year old brainwashed child that saw people she cared about get killed. So she did what most people would do. Got revenge. Y’all really be hating on a child while Eren is committing literal GENOCIDE. )

Anyway back to what I was saying

I want Gabi to talk with Ymir.

Somehow she learns about what really happened with Ymir.

And I want her to talk with Ymir telling her she understands Ymir’s hatred and sadness

Gabi tells her how she felt a similar hate. How for years she hated and cursed her ancestors and the people inside the walls

How she became a warrior so she could inherit the Armored and free her people from their “history”

And how she’s killed some of her own kind because she’s been brainwashed by Marley into thinking she’s of devil blood.

She talks about when she killed Sasha and the pride she felt at the time

And tells her what she learned when she was inside the walls.

About how she felt when Sashas father and Mikasa saved her from being killed. How she learned that the people inside the walls weren’t actually devils and that everything she had been taught was a lie

And the guilt she felt after she learned all this

This is where it gets really iffy

Ymir could have sterilized every Eldian alive right??

So theoretically what’s to stop her from I don’t know....

Taking away the power of the Titans?

So Gabi tells her that she won’t demand or order Ymir to do anything. Gabi says she is not her master and that Ymir is no longer a slave

But that she has a request. That Ymir can choose whether or not she wants to accept this request.

She asks Ymir if she could please stop the rumbling. To please rid the world of the Power of the Titans. To make it so no Eldian, Marleyan, or any other race or creature can ever transform into a Titan again.

And then Ymir smiles at her and nods.

After she’s done it Gabi hugs her and thanks her

And when she pulls back Gabi looks Ymir in the face and says

“Now I think it’s time you finally rest”

And that’s kinda where my train of thought ends

So in conclusion I love Gabi Braun and I don’t think she deserves any of the hate she gets.

Please feel free to leave your own thoughts. Just make sure that you respect other’s opinions even if they don’t align with your own.

⚠️Minor Attack on Titan Manga Chapter 24⚠️

Ok, I said to myself I was going to do this a while ago and never did. Let's start now.

The first biggest reaction I remember having was to the first few pages of chapter 24 because I seriously could not get through the pages of Jean just...

… calling his horse, with his drool.

YES I'M A SIMP FOR JEANN KIRSTEIN, LEAVE ME ALONE! He actually turns into such a good person and from what I've seen of season 4/ Vol 23 + he's still looking good.

Not long before Christmas of 2020 decided to join my friend and start watching the anime Attack on Titan.

I've already watched up to the start of the final season or season 4 of the anime, but at some point between waiting for the new episodes to come out and being busy with school I dropped it.

With the recent ending of s4 and living on weeb-tok I've desperately trying to avoid spoillers, I have been really wondering what happened. So not long ago I've decided to pick up from the beginning but in the manga this time.

Honestly I've been really enjoying it. I'm already on chapter 83 of Volume 21, and I feel like I'm understanding everything a whole lot better compared to when I was watching the anime.

That's not really the point of this post tho. Since I'm getting REAL CLOSE to the end and where I left off in the anime, I thought I would record any major reaction I might have from earlier chapters then 83 onward just for fun.

If anybody does see my reactions to the rest of the ATTACK ON TITAN MANGA and want to follow along, by all means come join in on the possible fun. Come feel and and share you AOT emotions with me any anybody else on this ride.

⚠️FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE POSIBILLE SPOILERS FOR THE ATTACK ON TITAN MANGA AND ANIME!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ⚠️

(I will also post spoillers warning at the beginning of every upcoming reaction post)

Holy - Angel

(Jean x Reader) - Word Count: 2.2k

Creature: a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God

Warnings: Blasphemy, Very Religious Mindsets, Vaginal Penetration, Creampie, Breeding Kink

Extra Notes: Kicking off the Halloween countdown strong with some angelic Jean! Also, for all of the Fleabag fans, this is lightly inspired by the Confessional scene in season 2!

You were used to the church being quiet at this time of night, it was unusual to see anyone awake at midnight and especially seeing them inside praying. But, this was the only time you liked to come here; you’d show up on Sundays, Wednesdays, and almost every Friday and Monday at midnight.

The large wooden front door of the church creaked as you pushed it open. You leaned your entire body weight into the door, slowly moving it to rest in its normal spot for Wednesdays and Sundays. It’s only completely open all day when there's a service, but just because it’s shut doesn’t mean you can’t come in and pray - that’s something the priest had always told you since your first day here.

Your shoes clicked against the hard mahogany wood flooring underneath you. You walked down the main aisle of the church, passing the pews you normally sit in during sermons. You tended to choose the pews towards the back, not wanting to impose on the other churchgoers - the only person here nice enough to make you feel welcome has always been the priest. Everybody else gave you weird looks for showing up alone when you used to come every week with your husband.

You finally made it to your destination, the large mahogany confessional stood high in front of you. You pulled back the curtain for the left side of the booth and immediately kneeled on the small step stool in front of the small iron grate separating you from the priest. You took a deep breath before bringing all of your sins to mind, readying yourself for the next conversation.

This definitely wasn’t your last time in this exact position and place, and definitely wouldn’t be your last time either. Every week you tried to confess, same day, same time, same priest, same church. You enjoyed routine and you liked to believe maybe Father Jean liked it as well, always knowing you’d make your way here eventually every single Friday night. You took a deep breath before beginning the same routine of the night.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” There fell a moment of silence in which you knew the priest was basking in as well as yourself. “It’s been a week since my last confession.”

You started talking about all of your sins within the last seven days. You spoke of the time you saw your ex-husband at the grocery store the other day, and how you had wished you had the nerve to speak your anger - but you didn’t. You also spoke of the time your mother called and you purposely ignored the ringing because you didn’t feel like talking at the moment - but you did call her back later. And, you spoke a bit too long about the large chocolate cake you bought and ate all by yourself alone in your living room last Saturday night.

After minutes and minutes of confessing every moment within the last seven days where you felt minorly sinful, you ended with an apology. You always ended with many sorrys said to the priest. Sorry for wasting your time, and thank you for being here for me. Sorry for always sinning and thank you for always blessing me despite my sins. Sorry for stealing your sleep on a Friday night, and thank you for always being available when you are available.

Your routine for every Friday night at midnight in this same confessional, with this same priest, in this same church was down to the T. You wouldn’t be surprised if there came a time when you would confess the same sins, constantly, every week. Now, in the routine, all that was left was Father Jean blessing you and you going on your merry way back home.

“That’s all of your sins?” Father Jean asked after a moment of letting your confession truly settle in the air between you both. “You have nothing else left to say to me right now?”

You nodded even though you knew the priest couldn’t see it, “Yes, that’s everything I can think of at the moment.”

“Not even masturbation?”

The question shocked you to your core. You didn’t even like saying the m-word and here was your priest saying it to you, asking you if you have participated in the act. You wondered why he’d even ask such a thing, did he believe you were lying about your sins?

“No, no no no, of course not, Father.” You felt like crying, pleading with the priest to know that you would never leave a sin out of your confession and you would never lie to him. “I have never done that, never.”

“Wow,” Father Jean spoke as if he gave up completely, “You’ve never even masturbated, you really are a saint, you know that, right?”

“I,” You attempted to speak, but only air came out of your mouth. You thought maybe it was a good sign you were breathing, at least now you knew this whole conversation was real. “I, uh, I think it’s a little sacreligious for you to compare me to a saint when I’m not.”

Father Jean giggled breathily on his side of the confessional. You heard him smack his hand against his leg, as if he were physically giving up on this conversation. You felt guilty for making him feel this way, you now wished you had masturbated at least once so you could help him through this conversation - maybe he wouldn’t be so upset if you had done something that sinful in your life just once.

But, you never had. You only had sex with your husband a handful of times before he divorced you a year into the marriage. And, even then, you had been persistent on waiting to have sex for the first time until after your wedding day. Before then as well, you always swallowed the urge to touch yourself, never wanting to give into sin.

“I’m sorry,” You pleaded to the priest, “I can- I can touch myself if you want me to!”

“No, no no no.” The wood creaked on the other side of the wall in front of you, it sounded like Father Jean was walking around on his side of the confessional. “I don’t want you to do that, I just- I have never met somebody like you before, you know that?” The curtain on his side sprung open quickly, you looked toward your curtain, wondering where he was going. Outside of your curtain, you heard him speak. “You’re special, you deserve a special reward.”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, “Father, what do you mean, what are you saying?”

The curtain in between you and the priest slammed against the wall beside it and you stared up at Father Jean. You were still on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with large and delicate eyes. He could see your innocence in your face, he could see how sinless you lived and yet how guilty you felt for every normal feeling you had. It was amazing to him to see someone so much like himself.

“I’ve been looking for somebody like you for quite a long portion of my existence.” Father Jean shook his head as he examined you in front of him. “And, I have never met anyone as holy as you are. I want to reward you, God is allowing me to reward you, if you accept his reward.”

You nodded quickly, “Yes, of course I accept. I accept anything God will give me.”

“Then, stand up for me.” You did as he said, and stood on your feet. You had to look up at Father Jean at this distance, you had never been this close to him. You always knew he was tall, and you had always heard the other members speak of his height, but you had never had the chance to witness it yourself so closely. “And, kiss me.”

Your throat had gone dry, you had to admit you had found yourself imagining kissing Father Jean many, many times - he’s the most handsome man you had ever seen. But, you never thought it become a reality, you knew priests couldn’t marry, so you assumed sex was not an option for them. Hearing your priest tell you to kiss him made you want to question his celibacy, but you also didn’t care so much, he didn’t have to tell you twice - you have wanted to kiss him for as long as you’ve known him.

You leaned forward and kissed him, swiftly landing your lips on his lips. You had never kissed anyone other than your ex-husband, and you had to admit that kissing somebody else was a whole new experience for you. And, you had to admit you liked it, you liked it a lot - and part of you even missed these intimate moments with your ex.

Your body was suddenly flush against Father Jean’s, and you weren’t sure if this was your doing or his. His body was not only pressed against your own, but now he was backing you up, back into the confessional. You moved your lips from his mouth to give yourself just enough space to talk.

“Father,” You whispered against his lips, “Where are you-?”

The priest sushed you quietly, “It’s okay, just trust me, okay?” You nodded while your lips still grasped for his, not wanting to stop kissing him but still curious in his plan. But, you did trust him, you trusted him with every ounce of your soul.

Father Jean backed you against the mahogany wall and you picked you up so your legs could wrap around his waist. You gasped as he pushed your back against the wall enough to only need to hold you up with one hand. He used his now free hand to unbutton his black slacks.

The new angle you were at forced your dress to be pushed up to your waist, and now his free hand scrambled for your panties. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a mess of breathing and syllables.

“Fa-fa-fath-er” You spoke through breathless gasps.

The priest shook his head, “Don’t worry, God has a plan for you and this baby, he’s going to be very special.” Father Jean moved your panties to the side, pushing his dick inside of you in one swift movement. You would’ve been more impressed by his pure muscular strength if you weren’t preoccupied by his whole cock inside of you.

The feeling of being with Father Jean felt so much better than being with your ex-husband, it felt holy oddly enough. You felt like you were floating rather being held up by the priest’s muscular arms, and you could swear - in your lightheaded state of pleasure - that there was an odd golden glow around the both of you. The golden glow made you think that maybe God himself was here to witness this moment, and that thought made your eyes flood with tears. You always knew God was real and active in your life, but this was the first moment you felt reassured by that feeling.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as gripped onto the back of the priest’s shirt. You could feel that Father Jean had some odd bumps on his shoulder bones, they felt like long linear scars meeting at a point at his ribs. You were curious about what these marks were caused by, but not enough to open your mouth and attempt speaking - and you were sure if you had opened your mouth, nothing but moans would come out.

You suddenly felt as Father Jean’s abdomen tightened against your stomach, and even though you had only had sex a handful of times, you knew what that meant. You leaned in close to the priest, bringing your mouth up to his ear and whispered sweetly to him.

“Come inside of me,” You begged, “Please, Father.”

You didn’t have to say much more than that before Father Jean was releasing himself inside of you. You and the priest sang a chorus of moans as you felt yourself get filled up with his warmth. You wanted Father Jean to fuck you again and again and again, knowing that eventually you’ll be filled up with as many children as he wants for however long he wants you.

The priest set you back on the ground gently and your legs wobbled as they hit the ground. You felt like a newborn deer just learning to walk for the first time and you looked at it as well when you tried to leave the confessional without the priest’s assistance. Father Jean helped you to a pew and sat down beside you, placing his hand gently on your arm before speaking softly to you.

“I’m glad you have accepted God’s gift,” Father Jean said, “He will be pleased to know one of his children is walking the Earth, continuing his legacy for him.”

You nodded, confused but not in the mood to ask questions. You’d ask him some other time, you’d ask him about God’s gift to you, what he means, why he’s doing this, and when you can do it again. You also wished to ask the priest what those marks on his back were from, but just as suddenly as Father Jean had pinned you against the wall, you felt the spirit of sleep dawn upon you. You rested your head on the priest’s shoulder and whispered to him.

“Okay,” You said in a small voice, one you were unsure if the priest could even hear, “Thank you.” Jean chuckled as you began drifting off into sleep.

The Lidérc

(Jean x Reader) - Word Count: 3.7k

Creature: a creature that can assume a human shape, usually the shape of a much lamented dead relative or lover in order to have sex with its victims.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Grieving, Dry Humping, Descriptions of Injuries

Quick Summary: while reminiscing about your husband, you have a strange dream that deeply upsets you.

Extra Notes: Happy Thursday! 3 more days until Halloween!

You weren’t shocked to see dust had collected on the bed sheets. It’s been a year since the accident, and it’s been a year since you’ve even stepped foot into this room. That morning you hadn’t felt like making the bed like you normally did, so you left it as is thus the dust collecting on top of the unmade bed.

You felt awkward being in here, even if it had only been a few minutes. You hadn’t so much as walked past the vanity on the wall opposite the bed, but you still felt as if you were intruding. This wasn’t entirely your room anymore, even if it did still belong to you. This was Jean’s room, and the person you were when he was still alive.

You took one final deep breath, turned around and closed the door behind you when you left the room. Maybe one day you can go back in there and sort through Jean’s clothing, it wasn’t like he would miss them. But today wasn’t the day, and tomorrow probably wouldn’t be the day either - it’s already been a full year since he left, so maybe in another year the day will finally arise.

Thinking about Jean always made your stomach hurt, even before he passed. You couldn’t help but remember that awful pain of bundled up nerves in the bottom of your stomach the first time he talked to you in that café. When he walked up to where you were sitting alone, and asked what you were working on, on your open laptop sitting in front of you.

You weren’t expecting the boy to even come up to you, nevermind talk to you. He had been staring at you from across the café for nearly an hour, and you kept catching him almost stepping in your direction but instead quickly sidestepping to go the other way. You wanted him to come up to you, but that was a lot to ask for especially since he was on the clock, was two years older than you, and-

You laughed weakly to yourself, “Another year and I’ve got you beat, Jeany.” You knew he couldn’t hear you, but you still liked to imagine he was listening. “You always loved reminding me how old you were, you always told me to respect your elders.” You laughed at Jean’s favorite words, but your laugh ran dry the more you thought about the fact that you’d never be able to hear him say it again.

It was like being told about climate change, and the very upsetting future our world was headed towards - being reminded of the hard truth hurt more than that bad thing actually happening. After a year of pain you realize that it’s not the days that you wake up remembering he’s not here anymore that hurt the most, it’s the days that you think he’s waiting for you in the kitchen downstairs with a cup of coffee just the way you like it. He always woke up before you, and he always made breakfast for you when he did, so of course you’d think he was waiting for you to finally join him in the kitchen. But, when you finally go into the kitchen, there is no breakfast and no Jean.

The stairs creaked underneath your body on your way downstairs. You went into the living room to the couch that you set up as your new bed a year ago. The living room didn’t even look like a living room anymore, but a second bedroom for you. On the coffee table and armchair sat piles of folded clothing around the couch with a stuffed animal - that Sasha had sent in the mail after she received the news of Jean’s passing - and a large blanket you bought to replace the dusty one from upstairs.

You sat down on your bed, and used the remote to turn on the tv for yourself. You started falling asleep to the light and sounds coming from the tv in front of the couch a year ago. Before Jean passed, he used to talk you to sleep; he’d tell you about his day, random memories, or anything he could think of, and when he was there to protect you, you never felt like you needed light to fall asleep when you had his arms instead. But, he was gone and that comfort he gave you was gone with him.

You laid down underneath the covers in the light that the tv provided, staring blankly at the cartoons bouncing across the screen. You knew if Jean was here, he’d say something about how Connie would love this show just because it was bright and made no sense to people with common sense. You knew you’d laugh, and push him, and remind him to be nicer to his friends. It would be a nice moment if Jean were here, but he wasn’t so the moment instead passed as yet another neutral one.

Your eyes eventually grew heavy, and your blinks grew slower. You could hardly keep your eyes open, and you didn’t really mind closing them, it wasn’t like you were missing anything important if you fell asleep right now. So, you allowed yourself to finally drift asleep.

You were suddenly in a car, driving down the street of your house. No music was playing from your radio, which is strange, but you were humming something soft to yourself. You pulled your car into your driveway, and put it in park before locking it and going inside your house.

You just came home from work which was obvious from your semi-formal outfit choice of the day. You took your high heels off and set it beside the door after entering your home. You locked the door behind you from force of habit and walked slowly down the hallway leading to the kitchen. You walked past framed pictures of family, friends, and most importantly, Jean.

You didn’t even glance at the picture of Jean that was sitting beside the lightswitch for the kitchen. It was your favorite picture of him, one you took on your first date with him. He had been focusing on opening the bottle of wine too much to notice his elbow deep into his spaghetti. He hated the picture, but always enjoyed the laughter that arose from you when you saw it, so he let you hang it up on the wall after you gifted him the picture in a frame for Christmas.

But, you didn’t even want to bother with pictures, when the real thing was standing right in front of you.

Jean leaned over the kitchen sink, scrubbing vigorously at the dishes with bright yellow rubber gloves on. You watched him from the entrance to the kitchen as he cursed at the bowl in his hands, covered in soap suds. There must’ve been a nasty stain on the dish because Jean was only a few seconds from throwing the whole dish away.

You giggled, blowing your cover. Jean hadn’t heard you enter the house, too focused on the dirty dishes. But, after hearing your sweet laugh from behind him, Jean finally turned around to you, slightly surprised by your seemingly sudden presence.

“Hi,” Jean said with a smile, “How was work?”

So, you did just come home from work.

“It was the same as always.” You walked across the kitchen towards him. “Same people, same problems, same cafeteria coffee.”

Jean set the dish back into the suds, “You make it sound so bad. Sometimes having a routine is nice.” Jean took his rubber gloves off and set them on the counter beside the sink. “Now, when the routine is taken away - that’s when things get bad-” Jean turned to you with raised eyebrows- “Right?”

You blinked at your husband, “Yeah, I guess. Anyways, what are you making for dinner?”

“Dinner?” Jean held his hand to his heart. “Why are you asking me about dinner, I’m the one doing the dishes, dinner is your problem.”

“What?” You laughed with emotionless shock, trying to keep the fake fight going. “We never agreed upon that deal!”

Jean laughed with you, “This is a tyranny, you don’t have the opportunity to disagree with anything. I decide everything.”

“So, you can make dinner, then? Since it’s your tyranny, right?”

“Touché.”

The kitchen grew quiet as the conversation quickly died. You didn’t really feel the need to talk at the moment. You kept watching Jean as a strange feeling settled in your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel like even though Jean was so close to you, just across the room from you, you still felt like he was a whole lifetime away.

You watched intently as Jean went about his day so normally. He had discarded his rubber dish scrubbing gloves, and had now moved onto looking through paper menus for what to buy at some local restaurants. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read over the menu items, probably trying to decide on what to get himself as well as for you.

“Honey,” You said in a soft voice as you walked across the room towards him, “Why are you looking at menus?” You smiled wide, trying to hide the laugh bubbling up from your stomach. “I was assuming you were going to make dinner. Like, a romantic candle lit dinner, like we used to have when you still liked me.”

“Babe.” Jean smiled, but you could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. “That’s impossible, because I never liked you.”

“Jean!” You smacked your husband’s chest with a hard thud.

“I’m kidding,” Jean shouted with a laugh, “And, I’m not cooking anything tonight, unless you want me to, of course - but, we already agreed on ordering something so-”

“We did?” You stared at Jean with heavily furrowed eyebrows. You must’ve forgotten the last ten minutes of conversation with him because you couldn’t remember ever agreeing upon anything like that.

Jean tilted his head at you with a grin across his lips, “Yeah? Don’t you remember, it happened just a minute ago? Maybe you’re losing it, hun.” Jean gave your forehead a flick before turning back to the paper menu in his hand.

Maybe you were losing it. Why couldn’t you remember that conversation at all? And, he said it happened only a minute ago? But, that doesn’t make any sense, you had been quietly admiring him for so long. There was no way you agreed upon anything during that time, but maybe Jean asked the question about ordering in tonight and took your wide eyed silence as a yes. But, that just wasn’t like Jean to assume something from silence, the whole thing was just strange.

“Okay,” You spoke slowly, afraid of missing another minute of conversation, “Well, then it’s settled that we’re eating in tonight.”

Jean looked at you from over the menu, “How hungry are you right now?”

“A normal amount, wait-” You pressed your hand to your stomach and didn’t feel the rumble of hunger deep inside- “Yeah, a normal amount, why?”

Jean grinned, “How about we both eat in and eat out tonight?” Jean raised a single eyebrow with his question. You were sure he was making an innuendo of some sort, but you couldn’t think of what. All you could hear yourself thinking was, won’t we be too full?

“Um,” You said hesitantly, “I guess we can do that.”

“You don’t know what I’m saying, do you?”

The joke suddenly hit you, “Oh my god, Jean!”

“Come on.” Jean laughed as he threw the menu aside. “Time to eat up.”

With newly free hands, Jean now attempted his next trick. He bent forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, and slung you onto his shoulder. You were now face to back with Jean, and you gently slapped your hands against his ass, in an attempt to persuade him to drop you, as he walked you around the house.

You watched the floor for any indication of where Jean was taking you. The floor faded from tiles into hardwood and then into carpeted stairs as your body bounced against his shoulder with each step. You gripped hard to Jean’s waist, trying to suppress the fear that was bubbling up inside of you from seeing the stairs from this angle.

Jean laughed as he finally reached the top of the stairs, “Baby, seriously, you’re fine with me - I’m not dropping you, I won’t let you go.”

“You better not.” Your grip loosened on Jean’s waist as you realized how deeply your trust for him ran. He wouldn’t drop you, you really are fine with him.

The floor in front of you turned back to hardwood which indicated you were finally upstairs. No more bouncing on his shoulder or fear of falling face first into the stairs he was walking up under you. Jean then opened a door, and the floor switched from the hardwood to carpet. You could admit that from the beginning, you knew where Jean was taking you, but now you knew where you were - you were in the bedroom.

In one swing of his arms, as if you were a bag of potatoes and not a human being, Jean tossed you onto the bed in front of him. Your back hit the soft bed, and you laughed as you looked up at him standing over you. Jean looked down at you as well, his eyes were wide with admiration, and you swore you could even see the glimmer of tears daring to fall from his eyelids.

Jean joined you on the bed, crawling over top of you. As he took his time getting to your lips, he made sure to stop at different parts of your body and give attention to them on his way to your face. He kissed your clothed thigh, your hip, your stomach, the cup of your breasts, and finally your face. He smiled down at you before he finally got to kiss your lips.

“Hello,” Jean said in a sweet tone as if it had been too long since he last saw you.

You smiled back at Jean, “Hello.”

Jean finally let his lips meet yours, he gave an extra gentle kiss to your lips. You weren’t sure if it was the feeling of him being so far away earlier or maybe the moments you had missed in the kitchen, but you didn’t want to be innocent with him. You felt passionate right now, and you wanted Jean to feel that passion from both your lips and your body.

You took control over your moment with Jean. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and brought his body closer to yours. You kissed him roughly, introducing your tongue to his mouth with a sensual slowness. You could even hear Jean groan against your mouth with the movement - you couldn’t say you were surprised by his reaction, you knew how much he loved being reminded of what your tongue could do.

Your lips awakened something in Jean’s attitude, no longer attempting to be sweet and innocent, Jean was now just as desperate as you were. Your lips struggled to stay with each other as you kissed wherever on his face your mouth could find. You kissed over his lips, his cheeks, his chin, and even scratched the soft skin of your lips as you ended up kissing his rough stubble.

“Jean,” You moaned his name into his mouth, “I want more.”

Jean could melt from just those words and the way you said it. But, when you reached for the waistband of your slacks, fumbling clumsily for the zipper, Jean felt his entire body get hot with desire for you. You finally loosened your pants, letting the fabric fall open for Jean to whatever he pleased with.

“Not yet,” Jean whispered breathlessly into your mouth, “Let’s take our time, please.”

It wasn’t like Jean to want to take anything slow, so this moment must be really important to him. Hell, he didn’t even want to take his time after he met you. He asked you out on a date for the very next night, and even wanted to make it official after the first kiss. He even proposed to you only a year into the relationship, and far sooner than anybody else in your life. Jean took life by storm every single day, so for him to want to take this moment slow with you made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You nodded against Jean’s face, “Okay, we can go slower.” You kissed Jean gently down his neck and then pressed your mouth to his ear. “Here, let me take control.”

Jean let you take control in the situation, flipping him onto his back and situating yourself on top of him. You looked down at the boy below you, looking at how pretty he looked with his reddened face, wild looking hazel eyes, and messy long brown hair splayed out on the pillow beneath his head.

In a moment of haziness, you almost thought the bed had been a mess; both unmade and covered in a thick layer of dust from months of being unused. But, after a quick check of your surroundings, both the bedroom and the bed itself looked completely normal. No dust, no umade sheets, and no missing clothing. This room was just as you remembered it, perfectly normal.

“What’s wrong?” Jean moved his hands down your sides and slid his hands into the waist of your pants to touch your bare hips. “You look worried about something.”

You shook your head slightly, “It’s nothing.”

You leaned down to kiss Jean again, trying to help him ignore your unnatural behavior. It was as if your mind was playing tricks on itself, and it was kind of scaring you. You’d never actually tell Jean that because you’re afraid of how he’d react, but you couldn’t help the uneasiness that came with your sudden forgetting problem.

As your lips moved with Jean’s lips, you felt his fingers dig into the skin on your hips. You felt as Jean’s rough touch slowly turned from a way to grip himself to Earth, and more a way to grind his hips into you from below. He moved your body against his body with a slow proficiency, even moaning into your mouth with each grind of your body on top of his.

You laughed breathlessly into Jean’s mouth, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

“I did.” Jean chuckled lowly to you. “But, now I don’t think I can handle going slow anymore.”

You took Jean’s words as a bit of a challenge, if he didn’t want it slow, then you were going to make him want it again. You rolled your hips delicately against his body, ignoring and going against the direction of his rough guiding hands. If he didn’t want to take it slow anymore, then you were going to prove to him that he shouldn’t have changed his mind.

Jean groaned low in his throat from feeling your body hit spots of him that he couldn’t reach when he was in control. Jean didn’t stop trying to change your movements, but now out of desperation. You felt as he desperately clung to your hips for dear life. He wasn’t used to being on the bottom, and it was driving him crazy in all of the right ways.

“Baby,” Jean mumbled against your mouth, “Baby, look at me, please look at me - I need to see you.”

You leaned back and looked at Jean, and immediately regretted it. Jean didn’t look how he did in the kitchen, he didn’t look like himself at all. Of course, under all of the blood you could recognize the face as the one you’ve loved for so long, but upon first glance, he was just a bloody body.

Jean’s entire right side of his face was where the blood was mostly coming from. There were glass shards lodged into his cheek and forehead, and blood splattered across the left side of his face from the cuts. Jean’s head wasn’t up straight either, where he normally had excellent posture and a long lean neck, he now had it stuck at an uncomfortably impossible angle. And, blood spewed from Jean’s mouth, dripping from his lips as he spoke to you.

“Baby,” Jean said in his normally sweet tone, “I love you, always remember that, okay?”

Your eyes were filled with tears as you stared at him, “Jean what the-”

“Just,” Jean continued despite his gruesome state, “I’m okay, and you should be too.”

Your eyes snapped open suddenly. Your heart was racing in your chest. You could hardly breathe as you looked around the area around you. The tv was still playing cartoons innocently in front of you, and you were still comfortably tucked into your blanket on the living room couch. Nothing seemed off, and nothing seemed out of place - and unfortunately, there was no Jean in this reality.

You took deep breaths to calm your still quickly beating heart. You didn’t know why you would dream of something so awful, yet something you were so sickeningly envious of. You didn’t care what Jean looked like or if he was permanently bleeding from never healing wounds, you would prefer he be here than somewhere you couldn’t reach him. Even if your dream self was suffering horribly from such a nightmare scenario, she was so lucky because at least she still had Jean.

You know dreams have meanings, even the scary ones that settle new fears in your heart. You wondered what that dream could mean, and you weren’t completely sure. But, you supposed maybe it was trying to convince you to move on - well, maybe not on but moving back into the bedroom would be a nice start.

And maybe Jean really did come to you in that dream, maybe he came back to help you move on. It would explain how scarily accurate he looked, both in his very much alive state and in his less alive state. It would also explain how warm the dream made you feel, from the tender moment with Jean in the kitchen to just coming home from a job you haven’t been to in six months. And, most importantly, it would explain why you could still feel Jean’s hands on your skin, like each touch he gave you was actually an invisible tattoo on your body.

Some Jean at the request of @ppushable 🤯!! Also if any of you recognize the bottom right Jean fit you’re a real one 🙏