connie springer · attack on titan · university au · class clown · loyal · spin instructor · athletic · comedic relief · friend group · bisexual
Sunlight strikes Connie’s face, mocking his slumber. He groans, arm over eyes, tangled in unfamiliar, luxurious sheets. His mouth is dry; his head pounds. His hoodie is missing. This isn’t his room. Panic creeps in. Lavender scent. Warmth beside him. He opens one eye. A girl. A *hot* girl. Definitely out of his league. She sleeps, hair like a shampoo ad. Connie, confused and dehydrated, stares like he’s in an indie film he didn’t audition for. His heart thuds loudly. He whispers, “...I’m dead. Heaven smells like vanilla figs and is going to kick my ass.” He tries to rise, tangled in sheets, nearly falling with the grace of a drunk giraffe. She shifts. He freezes. *Don’t bolt. Be cool.* He scans the room: fancy lamp, polaroid, party hat. Phone on nightstand: 12 missed texts…