clementines. 🍂 a jean kirstein collection

how he'd ask you to be his s/o!

asked by lalalpaca on tumblr ; Hii, how are you?? I saw that your requests are open, can I ask for some headcanons about how the birthday boy would ask reader to be their s/o, plss??

I love your Jean fics btw❤️❤️

a/n ; HII I'm currently dying again when am I not tbh ʕ⁠'• ᴥ •'⁠ʔ but fuck yes. here to fulfill my duty 

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✿ he would be thinking about it so much. like so much. it consumes him, and he doesn't want to admit it

✿ like genuinely he's the type of guy to write both your initials with a heart. he does the FLAMES things with your names, feet swinging and giggling in bed just thinking about you and him being eachothers. ykwim

✿ god forbid he says allat out loud though. GOD FORBID.

✿ anyway. he wants to ask you in this grand, beautiful, memorable way. wants himself to be the best person you've dated bcs he's competitive as hell. he's fighting ghosts at this point

✿ he plans out a picnic date with you, tells you it's a surprise. asks you to "wear anything you want queen you'd look good in anything" over text bcs if he has to ask you out for this face to face he would piss himself and die

✿ you tell him you're going to arrive naked. he texts back, "ur a public nuisance" and then panics and adds "a pretty one" ok man. sure

✿ THE DAY HAS COME and he had called his mom like three hours before he had to leave to make sure that he knows how a picnic works. like he has all the food prepared and the blanket washed, anything you'd need to be comfortable outside, he has. digestives. painkillers. epi pens LITERALLY EVERYTHING LMFAO bcs he's thinking of all worst case scenarios. what if a bee bites you and you die.

✿ he hopes you don't. when he comes to pick you up, his breath is taken away from him. he's stuttering over his words to call you a compliment fit for a poetry award, but all he's able to come up with is "your... you're good." that's all. you're good. well atleast he means it

✿ god he's such an idiot. right anyway so the entire picnic, you're making jokes and conversing and he's having such a good time and the weather is actually so perfect, there's gentle wind ruffling your hair when your hand finds its way into his and for a moment he stops listening to the story of how your pranked your cousins once, because all he can think about is how perfectly your fingers interlock with his, calluses and wrinkles laying over his. how many worlds had to have collapsed and remade and how many fates and futures had to be adjusted over and intricately woven together for the two of you to be sitting here, at that moment, the picture of what jean thought to be confusingly perfect sitting next to him, talking to him. his heart simultaneously sped up and slowed down.

✿ okay and this was his plan, right - he'd wait until the end of the date to properly ask you to be his partner. there was an ice cream parlor next to the garden you were sitting in, and he'd made sure they had any of the flavours you usually go for, after which he'd take you for a little drive if the weather permitted, and then drop you back home, which was when he'd ask you. if you said no, then the both of you could have a quick escape (you could simply enter your apartment and he could wallow in self pity in the privacy of his car) and if you'd say yes, he could hold your face and kiss you as he always did, and your apartment would welcome him with its infinite warmth.

✿ but things don't go as planned with jean. they never had ; he's had to change his major atleast three times in his freshman year, his old crush (whom he'd hopelessly planned to run away with) barely even acknowledged his existence, his childhood plans of wanting to help his mother out with her bakery business, plans of finding out where his biological father went - none of them went the way he wanted. so it was no surprise to him (atleast, not as much as a surprise as he'd expected) when he just blurted it out. mid sentence, stopping your dwindling story that you could tell his mind wasn't in, he had asked "be my partner." it wasn't a question, not that you mind too much, but he said it with pleading hidden under his tongue anyway.

✿ there was a best of silence where jean allowed himself to panic and remain hopeful at the same time, contradicting his situation and feelings as he often found himself doing. but then your thumb traces a circle on the back of his hand, and then another, and then your lips were on his cheek, placing a small, inaudible kiss there.

✿ "ask me again. how you want to." you tell him, and god he likes you so much - bordering hopeless again - because you knew, without words exchanged, almost psychic, that he'd actually been thinking about this for a longer time then he let on, that he had a plan, one that he willingly ruined.

✿ he nods slowly, abiding your statement. you continue with your story after a little bit of a pleasing silence, and jean takes you to the ice cream parlor he'd checked out (as expected, you had ordered the chocolate and mocha flavours scooped together), drove you around while telling you about how his sisters absolutely tortured him while soft music played through the speakers, and then before leaving you, infront of the door of your apartment with its inviting warmth, under the best version of a porch light that urban decency could provide that was lined with two moths, he asked you. a proper question, without hesitance but nervousness still, "would you like to be my partner?"

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) happy birthday to that guy. i love him. i hope you enjoyed this!