There it Goes - Jean X Reader

Down Bad

The kitchen in your apartment was relatively small. Cupboards and counters with their wooden doors painted an attractive green colour lined the walls leaving a narrow space to move around in whilst you were cooking. You hoped that it wouldn't be too difficult to cook together, but judging by the space available, you'd be standing on top of one another if you tried it. A long wooden table was pushed against the only free wall, several mismatched chairs clustered around it, and a petite blonde was perched on top of the table examining her nails. Nearby, a tall, freckled girl was unpacking bags into the cupboards, banging doors and cursing loudly and passionately as she did so. You knew the blonde, Historia, from last year. You'd met at a bar through your mutual friend Sasha and although you'd literally only ever hung out with her when you were shitfaced drunk, you'd had no qualms about living with her this year. You figured that the other girl must be her girlfriend, Ymir. You'd never met her, but you heard enough stories from Historia to know what to expect. Ymir was short tempered, quick witted and impatient. She liked playing hockey, rugby and mostly disliked human interaction, unless Historia was involved, in which case she seemed to transform into the most thoughtful, adoring girl on the planet. Really, you reflected, the stories Historia told about her buying flowers and little gifts out of the blue, insisting that Historia never had to lift a finger or break a sweat, were sweet enough to make your teeth fall out. Still, you couldn't help feeling mildly apprehensive walking in.

'I'm just saying Ymir, I'm happy to help you unpack, it's really no bother,' Historia was saying as you walked in. She was wearing a denim skirt and a white cardigan, her blonde hair pulled back by a white headband. If she were a portrait it would be called 'Girl Next Door.'

'Nuh-uh princess,' the girl you assumed was Ymir replied, leaning crookedly against the counter to gaze at Historia. 'I wouldn't want you to chip that new manicure.' Unlike her girlfriend who was a case study in pastels, Ymir was dressed almost exclusively in dark colours; baggy jeans and a loose black shirt with a pair of Doc Martens. Her hair was scraped back into a bun with strands escaping in a way that she somehow made look intentionally cool and not just ratty and unwashed. She looked like an overgrown version of the teenage boys that hung around the local skate park where you lived and you found yourself casting your gaze around the kitchen for a skateboard.

Historia rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to reply but then, spotting you out the corner of her eye, her face lit up and she jumped down from the table with a gasp. 'Oh my god Y/N, hi, I didn't see you there!'

Historia was just as pretty as you remembered. A small, insecure part of you had almost hoped that you'd been exaggerating her beauty in your memory, but no. She was tiny, perhaps only just five foot or so, with golden blonde hair and big blue eyes set in a pale face. Despite her diminutive height she seemed almost willowy; slender limbs and a long, elegant neck. Her hands were soft and delicate and you noticed a set of baby pink nails.

'Hey!' you cry, throwing your arms around her and feeling oddly too big for the room as you did so, as though all your surroundings had shrunk to meet Historia's petiteness leaving you incongruously large by comparison. 'It's so good to see you, it's been literally way too long!'

'Oh my god I know! I should have come visit but I was literally soo busy this whole summer.'

You stepped back, aware suddenly of a hot gaze on your back. You were almost certain that if you turned around, you would find Ymir staring daggers at you. 'You get up to much?' you asked, trying to ignore it.

'Ymir and I went away. We went to Portugal for a few days.' Suddenly Historia gasped. 'Oh sorry, this is Ymir, my girlfriend, she's helping me move in. Ymir, meet Y/N.'

'Hey,' you turn and smile at Ymir, somewhat awkwardly. 'Y'alright?'

'Hi.' Ymir replies dryly. Unlike her girlfriend there was nothing delicate about her. She was tall and thin, but in a wiry, tough kind of way. She was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and her dark eyes watching you through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her freckled face