geek | armin arlert

read the room

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the night was going smoothly, or so you thought, reality was tugging at the seams.

armin wasn't too far off from despising you at the moment, unable to bear the sight of mindless giggling with reiner all evening. to him it was fluttery eyelashes and harmless slaps to the arm.

that was definitely an overstatement, truthfully the conversation had been blurred out, occasionally throwing in a chuckle when he did to seem as though you cared. the topics were lame and even if they'd been entertaining, there was too much going on in your brain to really pay attention.

to tell the truth, armins hurt eyes when he'd encountered you and the football player so closely acquainted was all that kept replaying.

now, most of the group was assembled together around the alcohol counter in the kitchen, about 3 separate individual conversations happening. you finally got a break from the guitar lessons and football position talk to chat with mikasa, now discussing how silly erens 'party outfit' was.

armin subtly watched from across the table alongside eren, noticing the childish snickers and whispers to each other while glancing in this exact direction. he couldn't help but feel tense, so on edge about the situation from earlier that it felt like maybe their whispers must've included his name.

but no, mikasa was his friend and wouldn't stand for it, except even then the thought of being inspected and perhaps critiqued by the two was working him up.

"what's up ladies!" an absolutely terrifying excuse for a voice squeezed itself through the crowd, heading straight towards the direction of you and mikasa. as you might've been able to tell by the audible stupidity, the horrid jean kirstein was now standing around like a wannabe stud. "watch out nimbrain, i almost slipped." he'd been commenting on how the force which you moved while turning almost sent him, almost stepping on his squeaky clean shoes too might he add.

smiling innocently, offering a apologetic look, but your eyes couldn't deny the satisfaction in ticking him off, "oops! maybe try slipping into a coma next time."

jean found you unquestionably attractive, even with the subtle loathe, he liked an enemies to lovers trope as much as the next guy. many times had he tried shooting his shot, but they all were air balls, as in shots that miss the rim and backboard completely.

but there was also no denying the extreme attitude problem you possessed. thinking he'd been crowned the best in terms of asshole qualifications, man was he wrong. your speed was unbelievable, there was clearly some detectable practice with siblings in your background.

you were up to par with the big dogs (him). it was excruciatingly annoying, and sexy, "(y/n)! looking good, you just got the perfect face for makeup!" but he'd never let you know.

"please, you look like something i'd draw with my left hand." and you, who on the other hand found him revolting, didn't hold back.

he condescendingly leans in for this one, "i've been told worse things by better people."