AU where Eren is a walking fashion nightmare and Levi is starting out trying to get his own label off the ground. Eren answers an ad Levi put out needing a model for BeyondWallMaria’s first catalogue, partly because he didn’t think modelling would be much work, plus Armin said it was a good idea, and partly because he really needed a job for the time being.
And Eren, this kid, he shows up with ill fitting jeans and a really awful T-shirt, the kind that you get as a joke in your freshman year in high school because you and your mates thought it would be funny.
It wasn’t funny. In fact, it was so unfunny that Levi looked up from his work, looked at the trainwreck that was framed and backlit in the doorway of his beloved new shop, and muttered an aborted, “what the fu-”, before stopping himself.
“Uh, I’m Eren, I’m here for that interview? About uh… modelling?” Eren begins, bashful and awkward, tugging at his hair nervously.
Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, and then stands up to appraise Eren, who has now nervously wandered further into the store, looking up and around in wonder.
Levi squints, trying to block off the obnoxious orange of Eren’s shirt to look better at his face. Its a good face. The young man is pretty, and would skirt the borders of damn near beautiful if he weren’t wearing… whatever he was wearing.
“Strip,” Levi says, brusque.
“Wha-? Wait wait wait I thought I’d be modelling with clothes on,” begins Eren, alarmed.
“What? Of course,” Levi says, distracted, rummaging through his racks for something that would suit Eren’s frame. “I can’t look at you with that shirt and those jeans. I want to see how you look in actual clothes.”
Eren blinks, then grins, amused at the short, angry, clothes-purist designer. So he strips. Levi looks up, arms full of clothing, and immediately squashes the thought that maybe he should make Eren model without clothes one, after all. Why on earth the young man chose to wear such terrible clothes that hid that sort of allure, well, Levi did not know.
When Eren finally shimmied his way into dark, slim-cut pants and a loose shirt that draped around his collarbones, Levi was looking at him with a sort of smug satisfaction.
“What? Does it look weird? I told Armin I wasn’t cut out for this,” he rushes, “I’m sorry if I wasted your time, Mr Ackerman,”
Levi shuts him up with a wave of his hand, leaning forward to place a black, wide-brimmed hat on Eren’s head gently. Eren stills, surprised at the proximity, and his sudden view of freckles on a pale collarbone. Levi Ackerman smelled good, too.
Levi regarded his new model, sitting quietly and draped in black and muted tones, the only high colour visible the blue-green of his eyes. Eren Jeager would do very well indeed as their model.
“The photoshoot is next Monday; I’m having a friend help out, they own a studio. Can you make it?” Levi asks.
Eren nods, a smile appearing on his face as he realised he’d gotten the job. “I uh, I’ve never done this before, so thank you for giving me this chance, Mr Ackerman.”
“Levi will do. Eren, was it? I look forward to working with you.”
A few months later, BeyondWallMaria gets featured in the Scouts, on of Zhiganshina’s fashion magazines. Levi’s store gets a few new hands, and Petra and Gunther are always up for a chat or to trade insults, respectively. Eren slips in through the back to find Levi organising the stock room.
“Levi, hey!” Eren says, grinning as he regards his now-boyfriend. Levi looks up, automatically pulling Eren close by his elbow and pressing his lips briefly against Eren’s.
“You’re going to be late for your next job.” he murmurs, looking Eren up and down.
“Your dressed nicely today,” Levi says, as though Eren wasn’t dressed head to toe in the clothes Levi had designed.
“My boyfriend is a designer, you know,” Eren laughs, stooping down to kiss Levi one more time before he runs off.
Seriously, all over Facebook and Twitter all i see is girls bitching about somebody elses hair or dress sense, and how disgusting/slutty somebody looked at a party etc..
So what if you don’t like their hair, or their dress sense, or maybe even the music they listen to. You’re not the one who has that hair style/colour, who is wearing them clothes or listening to that music so why does it matter? it’s their life not yours. Maybe it’s their way of expressing themselves, and they think that you look ridiculous but just because they’re different you think it’s wrong? All that matters is that they are comfortable with themselves and they way that they look - who the fuck are you to tell somebody who they can or can’t be?
I dress like an old woman in my real life. If you’re having conversations with people, you don’t want them to remember you as the girl with the tits, You want them to pay attention to what you’re saying.