Jean Kirstein x Male Reader || Gears and Guardians
A tall, buff mechanic keeps Jean safe and well, and Jean can’t stop bragging about him.
it’s easy to spot you in the scout yard.
not because you’re loud. you’re not.
because you’re big. tall in a way that makes people double take. broad shoulders, forearms always smeared with grease no matter how much you scrub. you work the mechanics bay, fixing odm gear, reinforcing blades, rebuilding what comes back broken and bloodied.
jean likes that you smell like oil and iron instead of sweat.
he leans against the doorway while you’re bent over a workbench, sleeves rolled up, hands steady while you rethread a cable. you don’t look up when he arrives. you already know it’s him.
“you’re gonna stare a hole through my back,” you say.
“can’t help it,” jean answers. “you’re blocking my view.”
“of what.”
“everything else.”
you finally glance over your shoulder, one brow lifting. jean grins like he’s won something. he always looks proud next to you, like standing close makes him bigger by association. you don’t tease him about it. he pretends not to notice anyway.
your relationship is quiet. solid. the kind that doesn’t need announcing.
jean talks. you listen. when things go wrong, when command decisions weigh heavy, when eren opens his mouth and sets someone off, jean comes to you with it. you let him rant while you work, nodding, handing him a rag to wipe his hands even though he’s done nothing.
when he’s done, you just say, “yeah. that tracks.”
it’s enough.
sometimes he sits on a crate while you repair his gear personally. you don’t have to. other mechanics could do it. but you know how he moves, how hard he lands, where his balance pulls. you adjust things without asking.
“you baby my gear,” he says once.
“i baby you,” you correct.
he doesn’t argue.
on missions, jean feels safer knowing you’re back at base keeping things running. you feel worse knowing he’s out there getting shot at. neither of you says it out loud. instead, you meet before deployments, foreheads touching briefly, hands gripping tight like anchors.
if jean comes back injured, he goes to you before the infirmary. you clean him up, jaw tight, movements gentle despite your size. jean pretends he doesn’t notice how your hands shake until he grabs them and holds on.
“i’m fine,” he says.
“you’re breathing,” you reply. “that’s not the same thing.”
he laughs anyway.
people assume you’re the intimidating one. the quiet brute. the muscle.
they don’t see how jean softens around you. how he leans into your chest when no one’s looking. how he talks about the future like it’s something he might actually survive to reach.
you don’t promise him peace. or safety. or forever.
you promise to keep his gear working.
to keep your hands steady.
to be there when he comes back.
and for jean kirstein, in a world that keeps taking things away, that’s more than enough.
how you baby jean
.☘︎ ݁˖you check his odm gear twice. not because he asks. because you don’t trust anyone else with it.
.☘︎ ݁˖you always pack an extra cloth in his kit. he thinks it’s for cleaning blades. it’s actually for his face because he never wipes blood properly.
.☘︎ ݁˖when he’s injured, you crouch in front of him automatically. big hands, soft touch. “don’t move. don’t argue.” he listens.
.☘︎ ݁˖you stand slightly in front of him during briefings without realizing it. like your body decided first.
.☘︎ ݁˖you adjust his jacket collar before missions, thumb brushing his jaw. “chin up, pretty boy.”
“you calling me pretty before i maybe die?”
“especially because.”
.☘︎ ݁˖you walk him back to the barracks even if you’re dead tired. you make sure he eats. if he doesn’t, you give him half your ration without comment.
.☘︎ ݁˖when he spirals, you don’t lecture. you sit beside him and rest a hand on his knee until his breathing evens out.
“you’re doing fine, jean.”
“…you always say that.”
“because it’s always true.”
how jean babies you
.☘︎ ݁˖jean pretends he’s not worried about your size until he sees you lift something wrong and immediately snaps.
“hey. use your legs.”
“i am.”
“use them more.”
.☘︎ ݁˖he drags you to medical even for small injuries. splinters. bruises. burns.
jean, it’s nothing.”
“you fix our lives with your hands. let them get looked at.”
.☘︎ ݁˖he cleans grease from your face with his sleeve, scolding the whole time.
“you’re impossible.”
“you like me like this.”
“…don’t make it weird.”
.☘︎ ݁˖when you’re exhausted, he steers you toward bed without discussion, pushes your shoulders down.
“sleep, big guy.”
“bossy.”
“only with you.”
.☘︎ ݁˖he kisses the scars on your knuckles like they deserve respect.
.☘︎ ݁˖jean always makes sure you’re warm, slipping his jacket over your shoulders when nights get cold. it never fits right. he insists anyway.
pet names
.☘︎ ݁˖from you to jean: pretty boy, handsome, mouthy, hero
.☘︎ ݁˖from jean to you: big guy, bear, giant, mine
the soft ones only happen in private. whispered. careful.
on the field: jean bragging
.☘︎ ݁˖jean talks about you like a shield he carries with him.
“don’t worry. my mechanic reinforced my cables personally.”
“yeah, the big one. my boyfriend.”
.☘︎ ݁˖when someone complains about broken gear, jean scoffs.
“if it broke, you landed wrong. he doesn’t miss.
.☘︎ ݁˖he corrects people immediately if they underestimate you.“
he’s not just muscle. he rebuilt half our odm system after trost.”
.☘︎ ݁˖in close calls, jean mutters your name like a grounding charm.
after missions, he stands taller when he sees you waiting.
told you he’d have it ready,” he says, smug, like your work is his victory too.
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