Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/934133.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert/Jean_Kirstein
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Fluff,
      Schmoop, that_whole_"things_people_say_about_you_show_up_on_your_skin"
      thing, kink_meme_fill, Kinda
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-20 Words: 1186
****** words, words, words. ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     The first time Jean undresses Armin (slowly, tenderly, like he’s
     afraid Armin will shatter beneath his hands), he understands why
     Armin wears long sleeves.
Notes
     Prompt: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/
     2124.html?thread=2371148#cmt2371148
     Original fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7498289/1/Permanent-Marker
     "The things people say about you are magically printed on your skin.
     The more often people say it, the bigger and bolder the word will be,
     and sometimes the words are horrible and saddening."
     Pure unadulterated fluff. Completely unbeta'd and written at like,
     1am for tumblr user highviscosity because that's how I roll. \o/
See the end of the work for more notes
The first time Jean undresses Armin (slowly, tenderly, like he’s afraid Armin
will shatter beneath his hands), he understands why Armin wears long sleeves.
His arms are a mess of words, snarls of them running from his shoulders to his
wrists. Most of them are small and fading, written shakily and in all capitals,
but a few stand out bold and strong. Those draw Jean’s attention right away,
and while he can’t say he’s surprised by what he sees, he still feels a twinge
of something that feels like guilt.
Armin is looking at everything but Jean; he doesn’t say anything when Jean runs
his hands down Armin’s sides, breath exhaling heavily.
“You okay with this?” Jean says, because words are private and Armin is private
and Jean’s hands are shaking with something he can’t quite name.
“Yeah,” Armin says, still not looking at Jean. “It’s fine. I mean, I have to do
this sometime, right?”
“You don’t,” Jean hisses fiercely, and he means it. “You don’t have to if you
don’t want to. It’s okay.” His hands catch Armin’s face, tilting Armin’s jaw
gently until Armin is looking tentatively at him.
“Really,” Jean says, resting his forehead against Armin’s. He can feel Armin’s
exhale of breath against his cheeks, a gentle shudder.
“I want you to see them,” Armin says finally. “I mean, I don’t. I don’t want
anyone to see them. But I want you to know about them, I want you to accept
them.”
“I don’t accept them,” Jean replies. “I wish I could wipe them all off.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
Jean’s never really been self-conscious about his words. He hasn’t had to be.
Sure, there’s some he wishes he didn’t have – asshole is printed in bold black
around his bicep, probably courtesy of Eren. But he also has written in small,
cramped writing just along the band of his ribs – leader, and he’ll be proud of
that until the day he dies.
“I’ll replace them,” Jean mutters, shifting to kiss Armin. “You’ll see.”
Armin smiles shyly up at him, hand toying with the edge of Jean’s shirt. Jean
kisses Armin’s neck, nipping gently at the spot under Armin’s jaw that Jean
knows is sensitive, and Armin arches into him breath hot on Jean’s neck.
“You’re beautiful,” Jean whispers against Armin’s skin, and Armin shivers
beneath him. “Beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”
“That’s embarrassing,” Armin whispers back, but he doesn’t protest.
“You are though,” Jean says. “Especially like this.”
“Well then you are too. Beautiful beautiful beautiful,” he says, and Jean
laughs, lowering his mouth to Armin’s collarbone. He bites, hard enough that
Armin gasps, hands tangling in Jean’s hair.
“You’re not weak,” Jean tells him in a rush, before Armin can say anything. “I
know you think you are but you’re not. You’re one of the bravest people I
know.”
For once Armin doesn’t argue, and that’s a victory in and of itself. Jean
smiles against Armin’s chest.
“Brave,” he whispers, and he doesn’t need to see Armin’s face to know he’s
blushing. “Smart. Kind.”
He runs his nails lightly across Armin’s ribs, and Armin whines, hips jerking
against Jean’s.
“Tease,” Armin tells him.
“You like it though.”
Armin’s hands are wandering now, tracing circuits across Jean’s back, fingers
occasionally dipping beneath Jean’s waistband. His touch is feather light, shy
and hesitant.
“Here,” Jean says, and then he’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it
to the floor. Armin smiles up at him, and when Jean kisses him this time, it’s
rougher, messier.
Armin is beautiful like this, face flushed and lips pink. He looks at Jean
through his eyelashes, imploring and needy, and Jean would do pretty much
anything to keep anyone from seeing Armin like this.
“Mine,” Jean tells him, sucking on the taut skin of Armin’s clavicle, fiercely
possessive. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Armin agrees, hands fumbling with Jean’s belt, mouth hot on Jean’s
neck. “Don’t worry.” He palms Jean through his boxers, rough and eager, and
Jean groans softly.
He tugs Armin’s pants over the slant of his hips, catching his fingers in the
waistband of Armin’s underwear. Armin shivers as Jean licks at the dip of his
pelvis; his cheek is resting against Armin’s erection, and Jean lets his eyes
flutter shut, knowing that Armin is watching. He rubs his cheek across Armin,
mouth parting slightly to taste him, and Armin gasps.
“Hurry up,” Armin breathes, tugging restlessly at Jean’s hair, and that’s all
the invitation Jean needs.
He spreads Armin’s legs roughly, enjoying the helpless noise Armin makes when
Jean shoves his fingers against Armin’s lips. Armin opens his mouth
immediately, sucking messily.
The first finger slides in with little resistance, and Armin writhes when Jean
crooks his finger, twisting and stretching. The second finger has Armin
grinding his hips downward, and when Jean scissors his fingers, Armin very
nearly shouts. At the press of a third finger, Armin bats at his arm, and Jean
pauses to look up at him.
“That’s enough,” Armin rasps. “That’s good enough.”
He’s always amazed by this, the feeling of sliding into Armin. He’s tight and
hot, and when Jean pushes in, he fucking mewls, and Jean knows he won’t last
long.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, interlocking his fingers with Armin’s. Armin squeezes,
running a thumb across Jean’s knuckles.
“Does it feel okay?” Jean asks, and Armin actually has the audacity to laugh
breathlessly at him.
“Stop worrying and get on with it.”
“So impatient,” Jean chides, and Armin scowls up at him. Jean chooses that
moment to move, and Armin yelps embarrassingly, glaring.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
He wants to take it slow, half because he enjoys teasing Armin, and half
because he’s still worried that he’ll hurt him, but Armin’s got his free hand
wrapped around his cock, jerking sloppily, and that’s all that Jean needs. He
thrusts sloppily, once, twice, thrice, and then he’s coming with a shout. He
collapses boneless on top of Armin, just in time to feel Armin finish, hot and
sticky on his chest.
“Gross,” Jean says, but he doesn’t move. “You’re gross.”
“Rude,” Armin scolds, but he’s laughing. “Get off, you’re heavy.”
With a sigh, Jean flops over, still holding Armin’s hand.
“Love you,” Jean murmurs, and Armin kicks him lightly in the shin.
“Love you too, doofus. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”
“Kay,” Jean yawns, but his eyelids are already drooping. Armin shoves at him
again, but it’s light and playful. At some point he feels the mattress dip as
Armin gets up – presumably to get some kind of washcloth – but Jean is far too
content to care.
In the morning, Jean will watch as Armin looks for the new words, watch as
Armin takes note of the ones that are slowly getting smaller. He’ll be pleased
to note that the word mine, still small from disuse, will follow the line of
Armin’s clavicle, a mirror of Jean’s own. He’ll wrap his arms around Armin’s
waist and kiss the line of his jaw, and Armin will blush and swat him away,
secretly pleased.
But for now, he sleeps.
End Notes
     I just really really loved this idea, and then I was like "oh my god,
     Jean/Armin" and then this happened. The ending is kind of a cop-out,
     but I got laaaaaaaazy.
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