#take your hands off her: JEANKASA

[bluebird722]

Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill

Summary: All it takes is love to rebuild and grow in the aftermath of devastation.

Rating: T

Main Pairings: Jeankasa, AruAni

Author’s note: I know the finale aired a few months ago, but this idea has been stewing in the back of my head since then. However, I experienced a personal loss before the new year, so I figured that now was the best time to share this with readers who either loved or hated the finale, but may have wanted more on what happened to the characters. 

Also, I don’t primarily ship the main pairing of this series of drabbles, but reading fanfiction and studying fanart has made it grow on me. I’ve even linked certain paragraphs to inspiring fanart. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking of it. 

Special acknowledgement to:  @azulmarina3, @poroverso, @itslieutenanthawkeye, @smallblip, and @k-lionheart-art and @marshmallow-rainbow139!

***Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill***

It was bittersweet, how everyone had come to the final burial site. No matter how they felt about Eren before the rumbling, while they were still new to the cadets, the atmosphere felt peaceful the way that he would have wanted it. The day that the ambassadors had returned, they woke up and made the pilgrimage to the giant tree where he liked to rest as a child. 

Each one had brought flowers to lay down, and they stood in silence for about two hours. So much had changed since the Rumbling, for better and worse. International relations, so far, seemed to be growing, but the Yeagerists were still trying to gain more power and influence within the island. The economy was regrowing stronger than before, but so many people were still struggling to make ends meet. 

When the group agreed to return to their hotel, Mikasa joined them but spent the afternoon on the balcony to enjoy the sunshine while the others napped. She didn’t want to think at that time about the past or the future; she really wanted to enjoy the present and how many lives were still rebuilding. Below her, many children were still laughing and talking as they ran errands for their parents, and couples, old and young, walked together, holding hands. It was a sight she cherished and envied. 

Then she sensed a physical presence behind her, who walked onto the balcony. Though his clothes under his suit were unorderly, Jean looked more refreshed than when he stepped off the steamboat. He offered her a glass bottle of water and asked if he could sit beside her. She more or less allowed him to. 

The calm moment between them ended in two hours, after he put his hand on her bare wrist under her sleeve. She pretended not to feel surprise and confusion at this touch but looked down anyway. Jean lifted the corner of his mouth. “You know that you don’t have to share your feelings,” he said, “but you don’t have to hide them anymore.”

“I know,” she said so quietly that he barely heard her. When the sun began to set and the wind picked up, he took off his jacket, which he put around her shoulders so she didn’t have to retreat back inside. The interior was so warm that she almost began to sweat. Then he brought her downstairs for dinner and helped her order food for the others when they woke. 

***

Although Mikasa considered it “courtship”, it certainly was unlike how she imagined a test for lifelong companionship. In that time, he formally introduced her to his mother, who embraced her despite her soft features hiding nearly a lifetime of stoicism and trauma. She listened to every story–funny and embarrassing–that his mother remembered from his youth. He never pushed her to laugh, but he did like to say things to make her smile. They compared their own methods of chores, such as laundry, and elected to follow whichever seemed the best, even if it was more time consuming. Over time, he rediscovered his interest in sketching and spent free time charcoaling the wilderness or the neighborhood. She liked to watch over his shoulder and happily posed for him one sunny afternoon.

They had stayed outside longer so he could capture in charcoal as much of the sunset as he could. Mikasa shared with him the embroidery from her childhood that she thought about picking back up, whether or not she had children. He knew that talking about her youth before her parents’ murder was still painful for her, and she shared the full story of how Eren saved her. 

His thumbs wiping her cheeks were so tender that she slowly stopped weeping. She hated the sad look in his eyes. “Remember,” he said, “you should miss him. Don’t ever feel like you have to pretend that you do not.” He took a deep breath. “I know that I’m not him,” he added, “but I would give you anything in the world so you know that you are loved and deserve–”

“Loved?” she repeated back.

Jean went still. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “I…I love you. I’ve felt that since we were in training…”

Slowly, Mikasa leaned closer and kissed him. Jean’s chest had an exploding sensation. He could not believe that he was actually kissing her, nor that it was much superior to how he fantasized. She delicately put her hand on his shoulder, and he cupped her cheek in one hand so they wouldn’t break apart as the sun disappeared for the time being.  

Six months into their romantic relationship, they rented an apartment together but did not progress to anything more than kisses and strong hugs. Regardless of fatigue or cold, Jean was always glad to heat up tea for her late at night or sit outside on the balcony with her when she missed Eren too much. It was strange, for him, to see her allow herself to become more vulnerable, like the warrior that she was slowly showing the “human” side of her. He did not speak unless prompted; he memorized every dream that she recollected to him and every memory of Eren that she almost forgot. Somehow, Jean knew that this was part of her healing and over time trusted her with his own memories, what he missed from his boyhood and even incidents in the cadets that he did not want to remember but could not forget. 

It wasn’t him, she knew, but they became closer than she had been with the boy who liked to pick fights with the one who saved her life, and the man who sided with her as she took down her idea of a life partner.

When they eventually married, only Jean wore his military uniform; Mikasa decided, after all, that she did want to wear a white gown. White, after all, was the color of purity and renewal, people said. She wanted to be a symbol of positive change and remind everyone that good was growing like a flower. Historia and Pieck styled her hair to resemble the former’s and clipped her bangs to her crown. Annie handmade her bouquet with wildflowers, and Historia’s daughter carried the back of her gown on her way to the small chapel.

Yes, I wish it would have been Eren, she thought to herself. I would have wanted nothing more than to meet him inside and pledge the rest of my life to him. She looked down at the flowers she clutched and felt pressure grow in her ears. But it’s not him. 

Then the doors opened, and she reluctantly looked up. No, the man waiting for her inside did not have dark hair or wide eyes, nor was he the one who saved her from slavery and gave her the scarf that she secretly wore around her waist under the gown. She took a deep breath and made her way forward. 

Suddenly, she felt an invisible presence at her left, like Eren had appeared out of nowhere and was guiding her to the woman-obsessed soldier ahead. Then Mikasa smiled and let her eyes water. She clutched her bouquet and timidly smiled at Jean, who looked so different from the brash boy she met at the cadets. When she reached his side, she saw how hard he had been weeping.

They held hands as the minister pronounced their lives together, to love and support each other in the best and worst of times, regardless of life’s challenges. Jean kissed the back of her hand and wiped a tear from her cheek when they were done, and the guests followed them outside to present themselves as newlyweds to their fellow Eldians. Mikasa tried not to think of Eren but instead that someone else loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. 

After a private lunch with lots of soft music at Nicolo’s restaurant, Jean carried her to a wagon and did not mind that she held his hand with her head on his shoulder without saying anything. Even though she smiled every time he kissed her temple, Mikasa struggled to embrace how her entire life was changing. 

Then the wagon stopped, and Jean hopped out first. As Mikasa started to step out, he picked her up in his arms and carried her around. In front of the wagon was a log cabin with a firepit up front, a dusty pathway, and a river just down the hill. Jean smiled at the dumbfounded look on his bride’s face. “You never specifically said how you wanted your ideal house to look,” he explained, “but I know that you prefer nature and peace, so…this is the ideal retreat.”

He carried her inside and did not set her on her feet. Everything reminded her of her childhood homes, from the kitchen to the water pump, and even the two bedrooms that resembled her home with her parents and then with Eren and his parents. She pushed her fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “Thank you, Jean. I…I will enjoy it here.”

They cooked, ate dinner, and washed the dishes together smiling, but when it was time to go to bed, Mikasa paused at the doorway into their bedroom. It occurred to her then why they had a second bedroom in the house, which Armin and their surviving comrades had built in secret, with Jean’s supervision. 

Jean put his hands on her waist. “What is the matter?” he asked. 

Mikasa bit her tongue, unsure. “I…” She put her hands over his. “I don’t want to do that…tonight.” She held her breath. “Someday, but…not now.”

Jean himself was tired but had secretly hoped to make the marriage, according to ancient tradition, “official” that night. He was slightly disappointed, but he knew that trying to convince her would offend even a strong woman like Mikasa. Instead, he kissed the back of her head and walked around her into the room. “We will not then,” he said. “I promise that I will wait until you are comfortable.”

Smiling, Mikasa kissed him good night and let him wrap her in the blanket and his arms. 

***

The two months succeeding the wedding were some of the happiest and most relaxed of their lives. Their comrades frequently visited and brought up good and bad memories of their training days, as stupid and clueless young soldiers, until dark. If Jean was enjoying a glass of scotch with a book he was reading, Mikasa liked to sit beside him, rest her head on his shoulder, and read along. On days where she observed over his shoulder his artistic talent, he lay on his back so her face hovered over his; he liked to look into her eyes and feel her fondle his facial hair. When his mother came to see their new apartment, she took Mikasa’s hands and said, with tears in her eyes, “Thank you so much for making my child happy. I have never seen him this…content before, even when he was a little boy.”

Still, unlike his wife, Jean began having traumatizing recollections and crying in his sleep. It started one night a week until it grew to three, sometimes four. Mikasa woke to his muffled cries and had to shake him out of his slumber, or Jean battled alone while his wife slept and soaked through his sleepwear. Embraces and walks outside did not always help, but sometimes she had to make him remember and let it go. Jean told her everything except one dream where Eren haunted him for “stealing” her from a lifetime of longing and yearning. Otherwise, it was recollections of discovering Marco’s body, of watching Armin being abused while posing as Historia, and even of Hange’s death in flames. Sometimes weeping in the arms of his wife consoled the hotheaded young soldier within him, particularly because the young woman whom he admired was the one to comfort him.

Within their first two months of marriage, their union was soft and harsh. She smiled when he embraced her in bed but often wept for unknown reasons in the bathroom. Each time, her husband closed his eyes and tried to imagine how his and Eren’s lives would have been different if Jean had been less antagonistic. Jean wouldn’t regret marrying her, but did he unknowingly rush her into marriage before she fully recovered? Even before he asked her to marry him, he vowed that he would love and care for her more than he ever did for anyone else in his life. 

Jean was silent at dinner that night and went to bed early. She joined him later and knew that he was feigning sleep. He’s a good man, she remembered telling herself when she finally agreed to marry him. It is obvious that he thinks that he is failing as a husband, but he’s not. 

“Jean,” she said softly. 

Immediately, he held himself up on his elbow. “Yes?”

Mikasa hesitated, and then took a deep breath. “I…I’m ready.”

For a while, Jean was still. Then he brushed part of Mikasa’s hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back but then put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait… Could you please sit up?”

Jean pushed himself back and bent his knees, unsure if she would change her mind. Her silhouette hesitated, but then she crawled over and, after shuffling, he sat on the bed cross-legged, and she sat on his lap, her legs around his waist. After gentle kissing and a deep breath, she pulled him back with her onto the bed. His facial hair scratched her chin, and he whispered sweet things to her between kisses.

***

At last, Jean was done chopping wood. He was in the best shape of his life, but his arms and upper back were burning from overwork, and he was thirsty for cold water. Even though winter was months away, he wanted to have as much wood ready for when the cold did arrive and the family retreated to the cabin. Jean wiped his forehead and entered the log cabin. 

Mikasa was at the table, peeling potatoes and slicing vegetables much slower than normal. She seemed lost in thought, so Jean decided not to disturb her. As he took off his shoes and rolled his head, she did look up and smile at him. After he splashed cold water from the pump onto his face and swallowed a mouthful of water, he kissed her cheek and sat beside her. “We are good with wood for now,” he said. “And plenty for when it is too cold to go outside.”

Mikasa nodded along and continued prepping the night’s meal. Jean grabbed a knife and chopped the potatoes that she had peeled to mix with the brown skins. Cutting food relaxed him and took his mind off the bad dreams that were not as reoccurring anymore but still made him reluctant to fall asleep. Now, more than ever, he truly worried about them going away.

Just then, Mikasa stopped and stared at the table. Jean assumed that she was thinking about Eren again, but then she made a face of discomfort. He set down the knife and gently put his hand on her arm. “Mikasa? Are you…all right?”

Mikasa left her mouth open for a moment. “Y–Yes,” she hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

Jean didn’t believe her, but he continued to cut potatoes anyway. Then, about ten minutes later, she made the same face and hissed. Just as Jean lifted his head, Mikasa smacked her hand onto the table and grit her teeth. Her husband set down the knife and stood up. “Mikasa? What is giving you pain?”

Mikasa hissed through her teeth and then slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and dread. “Jean…I may be in labor.”

At that moment, Jean knelt down and moved his wife’s legs in his direction, and put his hands under her arms. They counted to three together, and she shakily stood up on swollen feet and ankles. Her lap and chair were wet with fluids that she somehow did not feel. Jean swung her arm over his shoulders and helped her into their bedroom, where she heaved on her slow way into the bed. “Bring the doctor,” she gulped. “The–The baby is moving fast…”

“No,” said Jean. “I am afraid to leave you all by yourself.”

Mikasa gripped the edge of the mattress. “Jean…you don’t know anything about babies or how they’re born…”

“No,” he agreed, “but what if I leave and you fall off the bed? You could hurt yourself and the baby…”

Then another contraction hit, and she hung her head. Jean helped her to her feet again and helped her walk around the room throughout her labor. After about two hours, her breathing became more hitched, and she could no longer hold up herself. 

Jean lowered her back onto the bed and pushed their pillows under her back. Then he swung her feet onto the bed and pushed up her skirt. “Get the doctor,” his wife whined. 

“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” said Jean. “What if the doctor is not there? I couldn’t leave you alone in all that time–”

“Jean…” She threw back her head and clenched her eyes closed. It hurt Jean to see this strong woman fall vulnerable to the pains of childbirth, but he knew that she would recover. She wasn’t going to let this pain bother her for the rest of her life. He took a deep breath and ignored the sweat all over his back. 

Although Mikasa complained that he should have left for professional services, Jean refused and coached her throughout the afternoon. She gripped her thighs so tightly that she left bruises everywhere, and her eyes stung from the sweat on her forehead. Then she gave one final push and opened her eyes when Jean began laughing and crying at the same time. In his hands he clutched a naked newborn, coated in fluids and wailing. Mikasa burst into tears because for some reason, she felt happy–tremendously happy, like she never thought she could feel. Jean skipped out of the room on shaky legs and came back clutching a knife to cut the umbilical cord and a blanket with which he swaddled his firstborn. 

“It’s a boy,” he sobbed with a wide smile. He curled up to Mikasa and kissed her cheek, and then studied his son’s messy face. “Thank you so much.”

“No,” said Mikasa. “Thank you…for reminding me that hearts can heal, and life goes on…and can be better than you believed.”

Jean stared at her in silence, and then smiled as they leaned forward for another kiss. 

***

Jean sipped from his glass of scotch and looked out of the corner of his eye to the corner of the balcony. Mikasa sat in the corner against the wall post and beamed at the chunky baby who was one week away from his first birthday. They had just laid down flowers at Eren’s grave and showed their son to where they planned to make yearly visits. The baby’s nostrils flared every time he breathed, and he alternated between opening and closing his mouth in his sleep. 

Eren, Jean thought to himself what he would have liked to directly tell his son, whose hair was black like his mother’s, it had been busy months preparing for your arrival. Your mother and I knew that you would change our lives, but we didn’t know how much. Now…I cannot imagine how my life could have been better. It’s like you are my reason for living. All of this that I went through up to now…was to have you born. 

Jean smiled. And I had no idea how much I could love until now.

Jean studied the way she observed baby Eren’s ear and the way Eren outstretched his arms over his head. Did I ever imagine that I would name my son after someone to whom I was quite antagonistic? Jean thought to himself. Absolutely not.

Then he observed deeper how happy the once solemn and bitter woman was. Of course, she would mourn for her best friend every day, but she was also reclaiming her life before her parents were murdered. She was starting to let go of her traumas to give love to the little boy she helped create, and whom she loved. Jean felt a little satisfied that he had a role to play in her joy, and that over time he stopped having nightmares. Was he the most content that he had ever felt and that he wouldn’t trade anything now for what he had hoped for? Absolutely. 

***

Eren did not grow up spoiled; his parents taught him chores as soon as he became a better walker, and he had to obey other adults as well, whether it was to stop raising his voice, help his grandmother clear the table, or not say certain words around Connie and Armin. He was not allowed to wear his shoes indoors nor have too much warm water in the bath. 

Nevertheless, Eren always received the best tomato in the market, was allowed to pick out the clothes and shoes that he liked when he wore out what he had, never went cold in his bedroom, and had enough time between chores and bedtime to play and read his favorite stories. By the time he was three, he craved adventure and enjoyed trips to the log cabin, and was more excited about learning to ride a horse than other changes in the house…

***

“Jean.” “Jean.”

Jean groggily woke up because of the poking on his back. Was it little Eren again? Did he sneak out of his room and slide between his parents to wake them up because he could? Maybe it would be best to sleep through it. 

“Jean.” Another poke. “It’s baby time.”

Immediately, Jean woke up and turned around. Mikasa was still lying down, but her eyes were wide with anticipation. Even in the dark, he saw a growing puddle on her side of the bed. Panic seized him, and he pulled himself out of bed. “Oh my gosh, Mikasa,” he panted, “are you in pain, does it hurt, is it different than–”

“No, I am good,” she whispered. “Just grab the doctor for me, and then tell your mother to take Eren outside to play when he wakes up.”

Jean hastily nodded and kissed her forehead. “But what about you?”

“I can pull myself up,” she whispered right before she made a face of pain. “Just…hurry…”

Jean kissed her again and ran out of the room to grab his coat and pull on his shoes. It was happening again, and he wanted it to be better but just as precious as with Eren. This time, his mother slept on the couch to better assist with housekeeping and to keep her grandson distracted from the confusing yet undoubtedly frightening reality of childbirth.

He ran out of the building, mentally asking Eren, if he could hear his fallen comrade, to please be there again for the laboring woman and to keep mother and child safe.

***

The two horses galloped as fast as they could, as if running from a great wildfire. They darted along the pathway, creating clouds of dust on either side, and rushed to the tall building. Paradis was still slow to catch up with modern technology, but it would have been nice to operate an automobile. A life–two lives–could be in danger, and the horses knew of the urgency. 

By the time they reached the apartment building, Connie and Armin had dismounted from their horses and tied them to the post. They ran up the stairs, and Connie pounded on the door. Within two seconds, Jean–his eyes bloodshot and his face tear-streaked–opened the door. “It’s a girl,” he cheered. 

“A girl,” Armin and Connie whispered at the same time. They quickly removed their boots, hung their jackets, and followed him into the cabin. Jean knocked on his bedroom door and waited for the soft “come in”. Inside, Mikasa was propped against bundles of blankets with Eren at her side, his head against her arm and staring at the wrapping of blankets that she cradled. Little Eren lifted his head and smiled when he saw the visitors. Armin immediately knelt down and embraced Mikasa, who looked exhausted but was overjoyed at another healthy birth. 

“I have a little sister,” Eren said in disbelief. “She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, but she has Dada’s hair.”

“She sure does,” Jean said with a smile. He reached forward, and Mikasa handed him their daughter. “Would you like to hold her?” he asked the guests. 

“Absolutely,” said Armin. 

“Of course,” said Connie. 

Jean smiled at the baby’s pouting lips and then approached Connie. “We named her Sasha.”

The excitement on Connie’s face automatically faded into sorrow as soon as he took the newborn into his arms and looked into Sasha’s face. She clearly resembled her parents, but in that moment, he missed his old friend–someone he considered his twin–so fiercely that it wasn’t fair that Sasha didn’t live to get married if she wanted to. She didn’t get the chance to decide if she was going to have children or to see their home at peace. Of course they wouldn’t have named their baby after her if she had survived, but it was wrong that Sasha had to die for her legacy to live on. 

Connie started crying and couldn’t stop himself. Tears fell from his eyes as quickly as Armin’s and Mikasa’s over Sasha’s dead body, and fell onto baby Sasha’s forehead.

“Connie,” said Jean, Armin, and Mikasa at once, but Connie couldn’t hear them. He seemed to lose his hearing as he mourned his friend again. He kept crying onto Sasha’s cheeks until the whining newborn finally opened her eyes, and then Connie’s eyes cleared. Her eyes were the same shape and color as her mother’s. Sasha squinted at the strange man studying her, and then she lifted the corners of her mouth and trapped her tongue between her gums. 

Connie sniffed and blinked back more tears. “Hi, Sasha,” he whispered. “I am very glad to meet you.” 

Armin walked behind Connie and peered at her over Connie’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, little one,” he whispered. He reached forward and tickled her covered stomach. “You’re going to grow up into an amazing woman–just like your namesake.”

“Let’s just hope that she doesn’t eat everything in sight like a wild animal,” Jean, whose eyes started watering again, chuckled. 

“Or steal food from other people,” Mikasa added with a smile. A confused Eren cocked his head with a “huh?”. The men, however, chuckled and marveled over Sasha until she started to whine. While her mother fed her, Jean led his son and their guests into the other room to help prepare a vegetable omelet–based on how his mother cooked for him–to bring to his wife, who would still be sore for a few days. Jean’s mother returned from the market with more fresh meat, and Armin and Connie stayed until twilight.

***

Mikasa held Eren’s hand up to the headstone and let him put down the handful of flowers. She smiled at where her greatest friend rested in peace. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly. “I thought I would visit on your birthday. We’re going to eat how you liked your deer, and then Armin will come visit and talk about how you stood up for him from bullies.”

Little Eren nodded as he waited for his mother to finish and stared at the etching in stone. He wondered what to say. Then he introduced himself and told the headstone the games he liked to play, his favorite stories before bed, his favorite stores to visit, and how good he was at riding horses. Even though he didn’t see himself becoming a soldier, he wanted to grow up to be strong and smart like his parents and Eren. (Jean, on the other hand, stayed behind to clean up Sasha, who had just vomited over his arm, was sweating through her tiny dress, and needed changing. When he was done, he carried her up the hill and, once again, expressed remorse that they did not get along when they first met.)

“Dada,” said Eren as the family held hands on the walk home, “why did you and Mama’s friend fight all the time? You always tell me that it’s not nice to make people sad.”

Jean and Mikasa, who carried Sasha in her free hand, stopped walking then and pondered how to respond. Then Jean said, “Mikasa, why don’t you go ahead and take the baby home? We’ll catch up soon.”

“All right,” said his wife. She readjusted the baby on her hip and entertained her with the scarf that Sasha liked to play with. Then Jean picked up his son and sighed.

“Well, Eren,” he started as Eren put his hands around Jean’s neck, “you might not understand until you’re big like I am now, but sometimes you will wish that you didn’t do or say some things earlier in your life.”

Eren looked confused.

“So when I first met Eren, your mama’s friend, he…he had gone through some bad things when he was young, like things that I hope you never have to go through. And I didn’t know that. I just thought that the things he wanted to do and the way he acted were silly. We had different reasons for why we wanted to join the army.

“Also…” Jean chuckled. “He and your mama were very close, and I thought that she was so beautiful like she is now. I was jealous that they were very close and that she cared about him so much. I wanted her to like me.”

Eren nodded, though Jean knew that he didn’t entirely understand. He kissed Eren’s head and hugged him tightly. The boy was silent on the way home, where Mikasa was washing vegetables in the kitchen after she sat down Sasha for her afternoon nap. “Go help your mother with dinner,” Jean instructed. “I’ll grab more meat from the market.”

Eren spent the afternoon kneading dough into one large piece and then smaller strips. While the bread baked, he peeled the carrots and turnips with a dull knife for his mother to cut them into small pieces. She had him wipe the flour from the counter so she could begin cooking. Eren alternated between observing her to learn and checking on his sleeping sister.

“Mama,” he said on the counter, “Dada said that he really liked you when you first met, but you really liked Eren, and it upset Dada.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Mikasa without looking up. 

Eren tilted his head to his left. “Did you love Eren? Like, did you want to marry him? Is that why we see him every year?”

Mikasa paused and wondered how to reply. Eren worried that he asked mean questions, so he took her wooden spoon and moved around the sizzling produce. When Mikasa kissed his head, he stopped and let her take back the spoon. 

“Yes,” she admitted. “I…I did love him, very much. I loved him in many ways. He was like a brother to me, even though he was my best friend and we lived together. And…I also loved him, like I wanted to be alone with him and…and not talk to anyone else.” Mikasa deeply inhaled so she wouldn’t cry. “I didn’t think then that I could get married, but if–if I did, and I could marry anyone…I would have wanted it to be him.” She rubbed her nose and wiped her clean hand on her skirt.

“I will always love Eren,” Mikasa admitted, “but I also love your father. He showed me that you can still love after a loss, but that’s not why I love him–it’s much different than that, that you may understand when you grow up. And I love you and your sister more than anything else in the world.”

“Do you wish Sasha and I–do you wish your Eren was our dada?” asked Eren.

Suddenly, Mikasa looked sad. “No,” she said after a long pause. “If I was with Eren, you and Sasha would not be you. You would have been different if your father was not Dada.” She stroked Eren’s cheek. “You and Sasha are amazing as you are now, and I–”

“What’s amazing about Sasha?” interrupted Eren. “She’s a baby. She can’t do anything.”

“Don’t interrupt, Eren,” said Mikasa. “She will not be a baby forever. She will grow up and do amazing things, as will you.” They took turns mixing the vegetables and checking on the bread until Sasha began whimpering. Mikasa trusted Eren not to let the carrots and turnips burn and quickly changed and fed the baby, who fell back asleep.

Jean returned with a hunk of wild boar, which he cooked to the point where Eren’s stomach growled. Sasha woke from her nap and eagerly flapped her arms in delight. Before she could cry at the table that she wasn’t tasting from where the delicious smell came, Eren laughed and distracted her by feeding her mashed carrots. Watching Eren spoon feed the baby was always a highlight of Mikasa’s and Jean’s day, followed by his trying to change her alone without getting kicked and entertaining her with wooden toys from their grandmother. 

***

After years, Annie finally “got it” and married Armin. She kept her hair down but wore a “flower crown” that Historia’s daughter suggested, rather than a veil. She wore a white jacket over a long dress with a short train that Sasha held up on Annie and her father’s stroll to Armin. Mikasa thought that he had not looked as happy in such a long time. He never looked away from his bride’s face. Their kiss was slow and then deeper, and soon Annie began crying as hard as Armin.

Armin and Annie did not want a public ceremony, so they insisted on a private dinner party, which Nicolo happily catered at his restaurant. Reiner told only the best stories of Annie in her girlhood that made the entire party laugh, and Pieck and Connie recalled adventures as ambassadors of peace. Jean even let Eren sip from his glass of wine, which he disliked. 

After Armin and Annie cut the cake and fed each other bites, they cut slices for everyone else. Then Annie took apart her bouquet and showered the party with pedals before Armin carried her to the nearby hotel for their first night together.

On his and his family’s way to spend the night in Jean’s childhood home, Jean thought, for the space of a second, that he saw Hitch, still devoted to the idea of war, somewhere, and she made eye contact with him as well. It was probably someone else with the same hair color and similar wardrobe. Nevertheless, he held Eren’s and Sasha’s hands a little tighter.

Some of the tension went away when they reached where he grew up, and his mother already opened the door before the family reached the front door. The couple let their children run over to their grandmother, who loved them and whom they loved. Like every visit, she had cooked up a juicy omelet like her son had devoured as a little boy for everyone to taste, bought for Sasha a pretty dress, and sewed together a unique cardigan for Eren. 

She had kissed all over Mikasa’s cheeks, having adored her like a daughter, and called her son “Jean Boy” to make the grandchildren giggle. At dinner, she listened to Eren and Sasha talk over each other about the wedding until they started yawning. Then their parents put them to bed in Jean’s old room, where she had framed a professional drawing of her son as a chubby toddler, and caught up with the grandmother until late in the night. Jean went to bed reflecting on the suspicious face that he caught eyeing his family but confident that he and his wife would educate the children on self-defense and how to keep themselves safe.

The next morning, the children woke up to the smell of delicious omelets that kept them full until dinnertime. They spent the remainder of the day playing on the floor, reading child-friendly books from around the world that Armin collected for them, and watching people under the balcony.

Mikasa watched in silence until Jean wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned back against his chest, ready to delight in the overwhelming joy that he gave her that filled their lives and would continue to grow…

“Could I…talk to you in private?” he whispered. 

Mikasa knew it was bad because Jean rarely hesitated. With one hand over his, she said, “Eren, Sasha, why don’t you see if your grandmother needs help? She’ll appreciate two little helpers.”

Eren and Sasha immediately took to cleaning up after themselves and walked over to their grandmother. Jean led Mikasa into his old room and quietly told her about what he saw when they were leaving the wedding reception. Mikasa’s eyebrows rose, and then her eyes narrowed. How were they to talk about this to the children, especially since Eren was about to start school and perhaps with children whose parents believed in the Yeagerists? Jean’s greater concern, however, was the children’s well-being. Of course, almost everybody knew that Eren and Sasha existed, but what if a Yeagerist tried to use them against their parents? 

Mikasa put her hand over his. “We will talk about it tomorrow night, when they are asleep,” she promised him. Then they stood up and helped their children set the table for dinner. 

“Hey Dada, did Gramma ever make cow for you when you were little?” asked Eren, who was biting on a strip of steak thicker than he could chew. “You should have seen how she does it! She says that you flip it over and keep it at a low heat but a longer time, and it helps if you don’t want it red in the middle.”

Jean was half-listening, his mind still worried for his children’s safety, but he nodded with what his son just learned. “Some people like their meat red,” he agreed, “but some people will get sick if they eat it.”

“How?” asked Eren. 

“We will tell you after we eat,” Mikasa took over. “What else did you learn with Gramma?”

Eren and Sasha babbled that the same lesson–low heat, long time–applied to vegetables as well, as Gramma showed the difference using green cabbage that were steaming on the table. Jean met his mother’s eye, but she focused more on her daughter-in-law’s plate, full of portions slightly larger than usual and even odd combinations…

“Sasha, will you eat your potatoes?” Mikasa complained. “You don’t know where we will find food for your next meal! And trust me. Going hungry does not feel good!”

Groaning, Sasha slowly shoved a spoonful of potato chunks into her mouth, glaring at her mother the entire time. Jean had to hold his breath so he wouldn’t laugh at the irony—of all the foods that little Sasha ever ate in her life, potatoes were the one food she hated.

***

It was strange that the Rumbling had ended years ago. So much had happened since then, but few things pleased Historia more than to see how everyone had seemed to grow closer. They had all gathered at her orphanage as both a reunion and a private place to talk about international relations without the fear of eavesdropping. 

Everyone had scattered between the picnic table, helping Historia bring out the food and treats, and within the fence, watching Eren and Sasha play with the orphans and observing how Armin never seemed to take his hand off his wife of five month’s back. They only stopped to eat, and the other ambassadors complimented how polite Eren and Sasha were to offer to collect the plates and utensils to take inside. Nothing made Jean feel prouder that he and Mikasa were parenting very well.

Once Eren and Sasha had resumed playing with the orphans, Historia resumed their important topic of discussion: the rising threat of the Yeagerists. The army wasn’t just growing stronger; it had also garnered new weapons that could kill thousands of people at once. 

“But does this mean that they’re ready to initiate war at this point, even against the same countries that provided these weapons?”

“No, Historia said, very specifically, that the Yeagerists are not planning an attack yet,” Annie reminded Pieck. “But…it’s getting to the point where she’s thinking about sending someone in to infiltrate the Yeagerists and see what they have access to.” She cast her eyes wistfully to the bench on which she sat. “And if they gain too much power…how will the rest of the world’s population look at us if part of us are trying to…you know, execute permanent annihilation of civilizations, and another part are trying to promote peace?”

Pieck turned her head to ask Mikasa something, but then forgot when she saw a look of discomfort on Mikasa’s face. “Mikasa?” she said. “What is it?”

Mikasa grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “I–I’m fine,” she heaved. “Just…could you find my husband for me, please?”

“Wha–” Then realization dawned on Pieck’s face. “Oh my, that’s–you’re in labor.”

Mikasa shushed her. “No, please don’t. I don’t want my children to hear and get worried. I just…” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want her children to see or hear her prepare to give birth. Otherwise, Eren would be reluctant to marry and condemn his wife to the pain of childbirth, and Sasha would be terrified to risk her life and go through labor. 

Pieck quickly left the picnic table and ran over to Jean, who was standing with Reiner and Historia, mindlessly talking. She whispered into Jean’s ear, and he faced her with shock. He hurried to his wife and knelt beside her. “Are you all right?” he hissed. “I didn’t think the baby would come so early–”

“N-Neither did I,” she grunted.

Jean caught Pieck whispering to the other adults. Historia ran over and helped Mikasa to her swollen feet. Her water had already broken, and her cheeks were flushed. “Annie and the men will keep an eye on the children,” Historia reassured the couple. “I talked to Pieck–she’s going to bring the midwives over to your house.”

Mikasa braved a look over her shoulder and fortunately, her children were still playing. “Historia…” she exhaled.

As Jean helped her into the wagon, Historia glanced back and forth between the remaining party and the couple. “How long did it take you to have your babies in the past?” she asked. 

“Four hours with Sasha, Eren was about five,” said Mikasa. Historia nodded and said that, if they were all right with it, the siblings could spend the night at Historia’s and go home after breakfast the next day. The couple reluctantly agreed.

The wagon arrived at the apartment just before the midwives arrived. By then the couple were in the bedroom, and Jean was trying to hold Mikasa steady as she drank from a glass of water. The midwives confirmed that she was ready to give birth. 

Holding her breath, Mikasa took off her scarf but clutched it in one hand so that Eren would still be with her once more in one of the most important moments of her life. 

***

The rooster woke up everyone in Historia’s daughter’s room. Even though the adults had woken up earlier during their time in the cadets, it was still an unwelcome disturbance in their states of peace. Armin yawned as he sat up and scratched the side of his head. Eren stirred in the sleeping bag beside him and then opened his eyes. Across from them, Connie was slow to wake; Sasha, curled up in his lap, rubbed her face and stretched her arms over her head. 

Eren immediately sat up. “Mama,” he whispered. He kicked himself out of the sleeping bag and stomped his way to his sister. “Sasha–” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off Connie’s lap, ignoring her whines. “Sasha, is Mama–”

“Eren,” hissed Armin. “Don’t do that.” He pushed himself up and walked out of the room, coming back with Historia. She made the children eat with the orphans first and then allowed Connie and Armin to take them back home. The children hesitated out of fear for their mother’s well-being until Armin took Eren’s hand and Connie put Sasha on his hip. 

Jean’s mother opened the door. She must have arrived right after the midwives left. “Good morning, children,” she said with the love that she had for her darling grandchildren. “Your parents are awake. Come meet your new baby brother.”

Eren sighed in relief. Even Sasha was excited and grateful. They followed the older woman to the parents’ room. She softly knocked on the door and said in a softer voice, “Jean? Mikasa? The children are awake.”

“Come in,” said Jean.

Jean’s mother opened the door, where Eren and Sasha saw their parents curled in bed. Both were smiling down at the tiny hand reaching from the bundle that Mikasa and Jean shared, and they smiled even more when they looked up at their older children. Eren let go of Armin’s hand and made a beeline for his father, who picked him up and sat him on his lap. Connie set Sasha on the foot of the bed, and she crawled between her mother and father. Mikasa kissed her children’s heads and showed them the baby’s face. He had Jean’s eye shape but Mikasa’s eye color. Eren saw their father in the baby’s nose and lips. 

Cautiously, Sasha put her hand on her baby brother’s chest. Eren gently kissed the baby’s ear. Jean beamed at his children displaying affection to the newest addition to their family; Mikasa looked relieved that they were embracing their new roles as big brother and big sister. 

***

Most of the orphans had grown up at this point but still stayed close to the orphanage to assist with childcare and maintenance in between deciding how to spend their adulthoods. With Historia’s permission, they let some of the children ride horses around the lawn. The younger ones gathered around Eren, who enthusiastically taught them a game that seemed to be a combination of tag and hide and seek. 

“He’s everything like his namesake, just without the temper and the hothead,” Annie said at Jean’s side, startling him. On his hip he balanced young Sasha, who had just recovered from an ear infection but still complained that her head hurt and that her nose was runny. Annie smiled at the little girl who looked up curiously, as though she had never seen the former Warrior before. 

“Does this make you want little ones of your own?” Jean innocently asked. “Or…do you prefer observing them rather than making them a full-time job?”

Annie looked up at his eyes and then back down to Sasha sticking her finger in her red ear. “Maybe one day,” she said, “but only if Armin wants to–and I know how not to raise them, like my father did.” Her eyes flickered in sadness, but she chuckled when she focused on the running children.

Jean felt a tug on his pant leg. Little Marco stared up at him. His eyes were wide with a question that he could not ask. Jean touched his head, which sprouted black cowlicks that reminded him so much of his late friend. “Yes, little guy?”

“Dada, can I go…” Marco mumbled, still learning his words.

“Of course,” said Jean. “Eren! Will you come here and let your brother play?”

Eren whined but told the orphans to hold up, and he ran over to the hill. “All right, I got him,” said Eren. He picked up his brother, who wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck and dangled his tiny legs. “Come on, Marco. You’re getting heavy!”

Jean chuckled and watched Eren carry Marco halfway through the field before eventually giving up and setting him on his feet. Marco toddled in Eren’s shadow on his way to the older children. Some of them made faces that they had to slow down for a toddler, but the others cheered on Marco and his unsteady steps.

Jean sat down beside Annie, with Armin joining in and pulling his wife to sit between his legs. She leaned her head against his shoulder and laced her fingers between his. Jean discreetly watched the couple and patted Sasha’s back as she made noises in the back of her throat. Mikasa joined him later and watched Eren pretend to run slower than he really was so Marco could have a winning chance. 

She remembered Carla insisting that her own son was not going to join the army and become a soldier. It was the first time, perhaps, that she had seen the kind woman so angry that she yelled at her child for something other than misbehavior. Even though Mikasa tried to parent her children from what she remembered of her own mother and Carla, she wondered how she would react if one of them expressed a desire for a career in the military. Now more than ever, with the Yeagerists growing more influential, it was both more and less dangerous compared to when the Titans were their main enemy. 

Mikasa snapped out of her musings when Jean called over Marco and saw that he needed changing. As Jean carried Marco to a more private place, Mikasa cradled Sasha in her arms and thought more about surrendering Sasha or one or both of her brothers into the army. Remembering that her children were named in honor of fallen comrades made Mikasa reluctant to imagine them in uniform. Sasha traced with her finger the brand on the back of her mother’s hand, and Mikasa knew that, even though the children would not carry on her maiden name, they could still choose if they wanted to brand themselves as a reminder of the family legacy.

***

Eren was eight when the nightmares began.

That day, Mikasa and Jean took their children to the graveyard to have little Sasha put flowers on her namesake’s grave on her birthday and stayed longer than intended when her namesake’s parents arrived. They marveled over how big the children were and told them that Kaya was engaged but still active with the other orphans at the farm. 

That night, Marco helped his mother bake bread and Jean read to his older children until dinnertime. Then Mikasa ran Sasha a bath and told her funny stories about her namesake and all the trouble she got herself into but all the fun that they had together, even though they had different personalities. Jean lured Marco to sleep as Mikasa had Eren and Sasha read out loud until the children’s eyes drooped. Then their parents tucked them into bed.

Eren dreamt that he and his brother and sister were running on a sunny day, but they didn’t know where. He just wanted to challenge them over who was the fastest, knowing that he would win because Sasha’s skirts slowed her down, and Marco’s legs were still short. The three of them laughed and ran up a hill until they saw a giant tree in its entirety.

Immediately, Eren stopped running, and so did Sasha and Marco. It looked exactly like the tree that their mother and father took them to visit every year, where his mother had buried his namesake, but it could not have been that tree; he would have realized that they were on the hill that they had to climb up to see the burial tree. Even though part of him wanted to turn around and go home, the other half was curious as to why this tree was unlike the one that he visited yearly. 

Eren held Sasha’s and Marco’s hands on their way further up the hill to investigate the difference between this tree and the special one. Neither of them spoke. They craned their necks for any suspicious branches or tree roots. The hairs on the back of Marco’s neck stood up; Sasha had an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. 

Then, on the other side of the tree, was a hollow much bigger than even their own house. It was completely black. Nothing seemed to move inside. Still, Eren was interested. 

“I don’t want to go in,” said Marco, who seemed to suspect his brother’s curiosity. 

“Me neither,” added Sasha. 

Eren tugged on their hands. “Come on, don’t be scared,” he said. “Nothing will hurt you. I don’t think anything even lives there.”

“You don’t know that,” said Sasha, “because you can’t see it to be sure–”

“Well, then, how will we know if it is something’s habitat if we don’t see for ourselves?” Eren impatiently interrupted. “Come on!”

He pulled them to the tree and into the hollow. It was so dark that he could not see his own hand. The ground at his feet was soft. Curiosity grew, and he wanted to see what was inside, if anything. 

Eren didn’t realize that he had let go of his siblings’ hands until he slipped and fell down a long downward tunnel. As he felt bruises form on his face and legs, the screams of Sasha and Marco grew fainter and fainter until he splashed into a cold pond. 

Eren held his breath on time, but his body was in such pain that he couldn’t move his arms. The stinging would not go away. Carefully, he opened his eyes, which didn’t hurt under the cold water, but he couldn’t see anything. Eren willed himself to move his body despite the pain and slowly moved his arms over his head. 

Suddenly, he felt a gentle trickling alongside his spine that offered a mild comfort. Eren tried to push himself up, but the grip down his backbone only strengthened and quickly sent uncomfortable sensations throughout his body. His eyes throbbed, and everything turned white, and his limbs tugged, and his jaw ached, and he didn’t know if he was dying or becoming some strange creature, but he knew that he did not like like and wanted to get out–

Eren’s eyes flapped open. It was dark! Panicking, he sat up ready to scream, but then he saw a window and soft moonlight peering into the room. Terror seized him. Was it a dream or did it really happen? Eren shivered and looked down, but it was just his sleepwear wet with sweat. If he had fallen into water, he most certainly would be wearing dry clothes, whether he dressed himself or his parents did. 

Eren steadied his breathing and worried that he woke his brother and sister. Luckily, both were still deeply asleep: Marco had his thumb in his mouth, and Sasha was unaware that her doll had fallen to the floor.

Quietly, Eren left his bed, put the doll back into Sasha’s hand, walked to the kitchen, poured himself water, and shakily retreated to his room. Closing the door made him feel both safe and scared at the same time.

The following night, he was still walking through the tree, but this time he had dragged his brother and sister with him. Marco whimpered to himself, and Sasha clung to Eren’s arm as he walked them into oblivion, into the path of a pale blue glow, one that attracted him and gave him the sense of power, strength, a lineage of immortality…

“Eren! Eren!”

Then Eren’s eyes opened. It was his father, who looked terrified. He was still in his room. To his left, his mother consoled a hysterical Marco. Sasha clutched Mikasa’s skirt and also looked at Eren with fear. 

Eren sat up when Jean let go of his wrists and looked around. “What happened?”

“You were having a bad dream,” said Jean. “Your brother woke us up, and you were crying and moving around in your bed like you were running for your life.” He pushed Eren’s wet hair from his forehead. “You’re safe, son. I know that you probably don’t want to talk about it–”

“No, no!” sobbed Eren. He shook his head so fiercely that his bangs slapped against his wet face. “I don’t want to remember it! Dada, I’m scared!” He wiped his wet eyes. “It wasn’t a human, but I’m scared that–” He wept again. 

Jean picked up Eren and carried him into his parents’ room, gently shushing him and rubbing his back. Mikasa then tucked in the other children, reassured them that Eren would be all right, and kissed them good night again. She came back to her room and helped Eren change into clean clothes and mop his sweaty face and back. When Eren had calmed down, he tightly hugged under his mother’s ribs. “Mama, I was scared. I had a dream that I put Sasha and Marco in danger, that I saw this scary tree like the one we go to every year, and–and I got big and mean and killed so many people–”

Eren silently wept again. His concerned mother and father sensed the full details of his nightmare but gently reassured him that he was smarter than to have done something like that, and of course that he knew that killing was wrong. 

Still, Eren didn’t look convinced. He had told them how scared he was of the Yeagerists in town and that they were trying to recruit some of the older schoolchildren into dropping out of school to join their cause. Even though Eren knew that what they wanted and believed in was wrong, it caused fights in school and pitted children against each other; he lost some good friends and worried that the Yeagerists would try to convince him to be like his namesake and undo everything that his father worked hard to promote. Many times, Mikasa and Jean contemplated taking their children out of school and sending them abroad for their education, but in the end did not want Sasha and her brothers to be too far away from home.

“I don’t want to be a bad person,” said Eren, “but I don’t want to be a bad person who doesn’t know it. I want to be like you, Mama, Dada, but I don’t want to make things worse than they already are!”

“I know, son,” said Jean, “and we are both so proud of you and your sister and brother for how good you are. You three are good children, and we know that you’re scared.”

Eren silently nodded.

“Dada and I will talk about it,” said Mikasa. “We want to discuss some good ways that you can deal with it if you feel pressure to join and not have to get hurt.” She kissed his cheek. “Try and get some sleep, Eren. We can talk about this with Sasha and Marco tomorrow before we go on the trip.”

Eren tried to feel better but was still uneasy. He didn’t want there to be an attack at school that the Yeagerists pretended was not their doing just so they could get little boys and girls to join them. Even though that never happened, he heard Dada talk about some countries where that did happen– “inner terrorism”, Dada said it was. He didn’t believe in their cause but knew that he couldn’t fight them alone, and that hurting other people to stop it would make it worse.

***

The horses galloped across the grass, at a distance that seemed unfathomable to the cadets years ago. They ran past sights that they had never before seen. For the human inhabitants of the island, such a sight would have seemed imaginative but impossible. It was so large compared to the nature once confined within the walls. 

Eventually, the humans on the horses halted them. In front was the sand and the ocean that stretched on for miles. It was even more beautiful than they had remembered the first time that they laid eyes on the blue saltwater. 

Armin was the first to dismount and waited for Eren to let go of his father’s waist, then helped him down. Connie jumped onto the ground and pulled Sasha off his horse’s back, and Mikasa told Marco that he could open his eyes, having clung to his mother’s front the entire ride. When Marco saw the ocean, his jaw dropped. “Mama…” He pointed to the ocean as if she had never seen it before. “Look!”

Mikasa smiled and carefully took him off the horse so that he didn’t have to look away. “Yes, Marco,” she whispered. “This is what the ocean looks like, not just when your father boarded that ship.”

By this point, Eren and Sasha had stripped down to their underwear and ran to the ocean until they were up to their waists. They splashed at the surface and flicked water at each other. Meanwhile, as Connie and Armin kept watch over the children, Mikasa and Jean took off Marco’s shoes, held his hands, and walked him along the wet sand. Marco squealed when the cold wave washed over his feet, but then he giggled and waved his arms. “Again, again!”

Sasha cartwheeled in the smaller waves, and Eren scooped up handfuls of sand, which he threw at his sister. Sasha protested and flung a fistful of wet sand at his chest.

“Sasha! Eren!” cried their parents. “If you continue to do that, you won’t be allowed to pay in the ocean anymore!”

“Sorry!” they apologized simultaneously. 

Armin waved them over and showed them how to find seashells and small conches in the wet sand. The siblings spent the afternoon trying to carry as many in their arms and looking for bigger sizes. Armin only pulled them away from large jellyfish, and Connie chased the children into the ocean, and then let them chase him back to the beach, laughing the entire time.

When lunch was ready, Mikasa carried Marko to the blanket, and Eren and Sasha rushed to the dry sand. Armin gave them towels to dry off, which they wrapped around their bodies like capes, and Connie helped them fill their plates with warm meat and vegetables to put on top of their bread. Sasha and her brothers ate quickly, eager to go back to the water. Marco admired the conches that his brother and sister found. 

Only after lunch was over did Jean let Eren and Sasha grab his hands and pull him back to the ocean, where he fell to his knees and let his children climb up his back. Eren and Sasha giggled and held on while he spun in circles. Marco held out his arms and whined, but Mikasa set him on her lap and watched her other children try to climb higher onto Jean’s shoulders. Jean pretended to drop Eren, and then mimicked throwing Sasha farther away.

Armin joined her after cleaning up and wanted to cry. Even though the ocean had always brought him joy, it always occurred to him the series of events that led to massive loss of life and then the death of his best friend. Of course he adored the little Kirsteins, but did his best friend, who loved him like a brother, really need to initiate a war with worldwide civilizations for little Sasha and her brothers to exist? Even if Eren knew that Mikasa and even Jean were the happiest that they had ever been, would he still have gathered followers to promote his beliefs even after his death just so their children could grow up safe? The Yeagerists were still gathering power in the island, and Armin worried that the world was more dangerous to little Marco and his older siblings than the threat of Titans. 

Marco crawled out of his mother’s lap and tried to run his hands over Connie’s growing buzzcut, but he didn’t want to pull himself off his knees. Connie, chuckling, lowered his head for Marco’s curiosity. Armin watched Marco move his fingers and babble incoherently, wondering if his work as a peace ambassador was enough for him to ensure that the next generation of Arlets would understand the sacrifices that his fallen comrades had made and still not worry for their lives. 

***

Mikasa knelt down to the tree roots and smiled at the headstone. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly. 

Behind her, Eren and Sasha impatiently held the flowers to put on the headstone and tried to leave their mother in peace with the first person she truly loved. To Eren’s left, Armin held his son’s—named after his paternal grandfather—hand, and Annie put her hand over where she felt her second child, hopefully a little girl, kick without mercy. (Jean, on the other hand, was at the cabin, helping Marco fight a fever.)

Mikasa shared that her children were fast runners and wanted to go back to see the beach. They shared all the chores and were very good readers. All three of them took singing lessons at school, and Eren and Marco took to heart Jean’s advice that women like men who could cook. (Of course, that was not the reason why Mikasa married Jean.) Eren stood up for classmates from bullies without getting into physical fights, Sasha was an excellent archer who could hit a target even while riding a horse but still hated potatoes (and was sometimes caught sneaking hers to an unsuspecting brother), and Marco had beautiful handwriting and started losing his first teeth.

Then little Eren put down the flowers and excitedly said that the year before, he and Sasha asked Dada to take them with him on his journey to other countries. After careful discussions with Historia and the other ambassadors, they agreed on the condition that Jean would be responsible for where to put the children during confidential meetings. Mama stayed behind with Marco and little Arlet, and Eren and Sasha ran around the steamboat to explore the inner workings, ate fresh seafood every day, and giggled when Pieck pointed out the mirror where Jean studied his appearance to look more attractive. Even their cabins and the water for bathing were warm. 

Upon arrival to Marley, the ambassadors bought an ice cream for the little Kirsteins to share, caught up with Yelena, and left Eren and Sasha with Levi, who had since opened a tea shop but treated the children to lollipops. Even though the Warrior Unit heard the story before, they laughed when Connie, Armin, and Jean recounted to Jean’s children their first trip to Marley and their unfortunate first interaction with alcohol. Eren and Sasha howled until their stomachs hurt. 

It had rained that night, so Reiner wanted to cancel his plans to show everyone all of the trees that Gabi and Falco had planted but gave in when everyone insisted, nonetheless. Jean made sure that Eren and Sasha wore their “chore’s clothes” as they inevitably played in the mud.

The best part, according to Eren, was that as soon as Reiner introduced the children who were coated in wet dirt to Gabi and Falco, Sasha greeted them by throwing a fistful of mud at Gabi’s face. Jean was too horrified to confront her. Reiner, however, laughed hysterically, to Connie’s and Armin’s confusion. “At last, Sasha has her revenge.” (And no, Gabi was not mad but laughed at the little girl. She even lent Sasha a clean nightgown while her and Eren’s clothes were in the wash.)

They went to so many countries and explored so many things that Eren and Sasha were exhausted on the trip home and slept for two whole days in the cabin. When they did wake up, they went back to chasing each other around the steamboat and learning how it worked, and tired themselves sharing with their mother what they had learned.

By this point, Eren’s throat was dry, so Mikasa patted his back to make him feel less guilty that he ran out of stories already. He listened to Sasha talk about her friends, and Armin encouraged his son to say hi to a headstone. 

When they arrived at the cabin for lunch, Jean had just pulled Marco from a hot bath and quickly put him to nap so he could help his wife. Eren and Sasha grabbed apples from the kitchen bowl and took little Arlet outside to feed the horses; Annie watched from the kitchen as Eren held up her son in his arms and instructed him to give the apple to the horse. At first, the little boy looked terrified as the horse sniffed his fingers but then giggled as the horse bit into the apple from his hand and munched.

The children came back inside for a lovely lunch and to watch Annie, with insane cravings, consume almost every pie on display. The adults pretended not to notice, let alone watch, but Annie was fully aware and did her best to chew slowly and savor the taste before swallowing. 

***

And just like that, everything changed. 

Jean and Mikasa were napping after a post-lunch round of sex when they heard the explosion. Jean quickly dressed and stepped onto the balcony to scan the city. The look he gave his wife terrorized her. 

“It’s the school,” he whispered. 

The couple fought their way through the panicked crowds, but the crowd only seemed bigger as worried parents tried to get closer, but the “police” held them back while the headmistress refused to let any children go home until every child was out of the rubble. 

Mikasa craned her neck to watch the smoke reach for the sky, and visions of dead children’s bodies came back. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. This could not be happening again, it could not, and she knew that the Yeagerists had to have been responsible just to create horror. Jean was right–inner terrorism was the worst kind.

Teachers led schoolchildren out of the front door and had them stand in a line for a proper headcount. Parents shouted for their children, who cried and pleaded to go home, but it all made Mikasa feel worse. 

“Eren!” cried Jean. “Marco! Sasha!”

Mikasa joined him in crying out for Sasha and her brothers, but it was twenty minutes before they saw Eren’s face in the line pouring out of the front door. He was crying but grabbing his friend Bryce’s shoulders while another boy clutched his.

“Thank goodness,” Jean muttered. “Sasha! Marco!” 

Thankfully, Sasha’s class stepped out after five minutes, and they identified their daughter in the crowd. Sasha tried to run over, but her friend Ashly pulled on her arm, so she spent the time holding hands with Ashly and their friend Megan. She was visibly crying but clearly trying to console her friends. Mikasa sighed in relief to erase a terrifying vision of Sasha’s body, prone and still like her late namesake’s. 

Jean put his hands on her arms and tried to comfort her for what seemed like hours.

“Kirstein!” roared a teacher. It caught Jean’s and Mikasa’s attention just in time for Marco, his little face covered in soot, to hurry out of the building with his best friend’s arm around his shoulders. They cried out for him, but he likely could not hear them. Austin was bleeding so profusely that Marco had taken off his own jacket to push against the head wound. 

Fortunately, a teacher swooped in. “Here, Marco,” he said. “I got him, thank you.” Marco cried as he watched Austin being carried away from him until their teacher called for Marco to join the line. 

In that moment, Jean’s panic faded and turned into utmost pride for his youngest child.

***

Jean washed his face of his tears and stared at his reflection. Not even the relief that his children were safe was enough to calm him down or make him stop crying. He tried not to think of how hard the children were crying or how terrified they were so that their parents had to carry them home. It took hours for them to calm down, take baths, and cuddle with their parents until they fell asleep on the couch.

Mikasa was sitting on the chair beside the couch and silently weeping as she clutched a mug of tea. She shook her head. “They will never forget this,” she whispered. She set down her mug and pulled her husband into a fierce hug. He let her cry on his shoulder and studied how the children twitched in their sleep, Marco silently crying, Sasha gripping the skirt of her nightgown, and Eren pushing his face into the seat of the couch. As soon as Jean’s mother returned to keep an eye on the children, the couple snuck out and rode to meet with the Queen, who was just as devastated. 

“I know it was the Yeagerists,” she said and went into detail about a mole who infiltrated the Yeagerists and confirmed the weaponry used to explode the school, kill twenty-four children, and hospitalize over fifty. Mikasa’s heart pounded in hatred, and Jean hung his head against his wife’s shoulder. The mole, however, did not know that the school would be a target; from what the Queen gathered, the attacks were to be random.

Within two hours, they sketched out a plan: Because the anniversary of the Battle of Heaven and Earth was approaching, she would assign Mikasa, Connie, Jean, Armin, Reiner, and Pieck to parade through the streets in celebration and commemoration of the lives lost; their job was to keep an eye out for anyone who may not be celebrating and make a report to Historia. Annie, on hiatus after the birth of baby Arlet number three, would sneak the little Kirsteins and Arlets to the Blouse farm for hiding until it was safe to go home. If the Blouse family approved, they would take in the children two days before the parade was announced. 

Naturally, the late Sasha’s family was happy to take in Annie and the children, but Reiner and Pieck, having moved back to Marley, were hesitant and worried that it would just lead to more casualties. With convincing from Armin, whose own firstborn was due to start school the following year, they agreed to come as soon as possible.

Mikasa, Jean, and Armin had to console their frightened children about the distance and the undisclosed amount of time that they wouldn’t see their parents. With wigs and new clothes, Annie and the children departed by wagon to Dauper. Mikasa and the men watched with pained hearts as the wagon faded into a small dot, and reluctantly turned away from their dearest loves. 

***

The couple pretended not to feel awkward that they were parading around town to commemorate their victory at an inappropriate anniversary. It would have been better to have erected a memorial of all the late soldiers who died during and before the Battle.

Instead, they scanned the crowds to find hostile looks and suspicious people, yet they also saw grateful townspeople eager to stare at the heroes of so many years ago. Their uniforms were recently cleaned, and they received new versions of their since-retired gear, from the blades to the Thunder Spears. In the far distance, Armin saw three children–two little boys and a little girl–climb onto the roof of a house to watch. He secretly smiled to himself in nostalgia and confidence. 

It’s nice to know that some people still believe in us and are grateful for all that we had done years ago, he decided to tell his friends after the parade. However, he thought back to that one fateful day, when he and Eren and Mikasa snuck a peek at the parade of the Survey Corps, only to find a defeated team that suffered more than it gained. He hoped that somehow, this act sent a positive message to the next generation whom he had to protect from the threat of destruction and massive death. 

Jean made himself smile as he admired strangers and was showered in rose petals. Years ago, he would have done anything to do this and get girls’ attention, even if it wasn’t to find a lifelong mate. Now he had a real job to ensure the continued safety of his pride and joy, all three of whom, according to Annie’s recent letter, were recovering as long as they helped with the farm and practiced riding horses. Jean scanned the crowd for anyone who perhaps indicated signs of affiliation to the Military Police. It seemed like such a long time ago that he had wanted to be one of them and live a life of luxury. 

Ka-BOOM!

The explosion was louder than at the school, and not just because of the close distance. Jean knew from the smoke that it was of greater ammunition. Then he heard another explosion, and more people screamed and huddled to the ground or pushed past each other.

“Everybody get inside!” Mikasa roared, and she and her surviving soldiers galloped to the scene of devastation. She did not want it to be another school–no more children deserved to struggle with the trauma that her children were fighting–and she certainly did not want it to be a crowded building like a hospital. Luckily, the road ahead of her was cleared with not even a wheel to slow down her horse. “Seek shelter! Do not hover around!”

Then they erupted out of nowhere. 

The capes were long gone, but the tails of their coats fluttered behind them like the former uniform. Mikasa’s heart pounded in anger. They did not deserve to wear the wings of freedom anymore. They took that symbol as their own and dishonored it so that it lost its true, original meaning. 

The Yeagerists swooped down to assault the former soldiers who still rode like a windstorm and pulled out their gear. Jean clutched his handlebars and glared at the monsters who dared to threaten the lives and well-being of the three people he loved above anything else. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream, and the hatred that he once felt for the Titans was now reserved for those who sought destruction, not peace.

“Jean…!”

Jean barely turned his head to his wife’s direction as everything went black and the screams of Reiner, Armin, Pieck, and Connie faded…

The surprising, blinding light snapped Jean from unconsciousness, and he trembled as his vision cleared. When he finally came to his senses, he realized that he was in a basement with lanterns. About ten people in the now dishonorable uniform were glaring at him. He tried to move but realized that he was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling.

“Nice to meet you, Kirstein,” said a young man who reminded him of Samuel. “We’ve heard a lot about you and are so delighted to put a name to the face.”

Jean scoffed. “Nice to meet the people who threatened my children’s lives by blowing up their school and harming innocent children.”

The man’s laugh was like cold water. “Ah, seems like your personality hasn’t changed since your hotheaded days with the cape.” He pushed back his hair. “I guess there are some things that don’t go away when you become a father.”

“Not everything has to change when your life isn’t about you anymore,” Jean spat. “But yeah, if you’re going to torture me to demand where my children are, I wouldn’t even bother to tell you their first words.”

Some of the other occupants snickered at the jab. “We’ll get to that later. Honestly, we’re more curious about something else.”

“Listen to me, you dirty devils,” Jean growled. “I know what you’re trying to do, but trust me. You’re only going to make things worse. The cause is dead, and you’re following a destructive path that will kill everything and everyone you care about.” He tried not to think about Mikasa in the past, only the Mikasa who was now his wife.

One young man grabbed his ankle and pulled off his boot, and Jean’s heart pounded in his ears. “You really believe you can take down the Yeagerists, after all we’re doing in the name of your late friend?” he sneered. "If that's so, then why even bother naming your first son after your old friend? Didn't you try to talk your wife out of it?"

“You’re only causing more pain, more hardship to children who will not understand that you cannot always solve a problem by becoming part of the problem,” Jean hissed. “You’re only spreading the disease when you think you are curing it.” He tugged on his constraints. "And we named our son Eren...because for all the harm that the first Eren I knew caused, my Eren...my little ray of light...will bring back together what my friend had torn apart."

The young man gave him a twisted look. “A disease, you think Eren’s cause was, to free us from discrimination?” He pulled out of his pocket a hammer and slammed it so hard against Jean’s instep that he heard the cracks before he felt the bones break.

***

Mikasa glared at the young woman whom she had followed and cornered in an alley. “Hitch,” she spat. “I should have known that you were a leader in this.”

Annie’s former roommate snickered. “A leader?” she stupidly repeated. “Just because I’m fighting for a cause that I believe in doesn’t mean that I always take the reins. Whose idea was it to have this stupid parade, anyway–yours?”

“Like hell,” Mikasa huffed. “I did not want to celebrate history this way unless we erected a monument for all of those who lost their lives to preserve Paradis Island without harm to others.”

Hitch’s mouth twitched. “That sounds so unlike you, Mikasa,” she chuckled, and Mikasa couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. “It looks like you’ve had a complete change of heart ever since you became a mother. Didn’t you ever tell your children how Mommy was a tag-a-long for almost her entire life?”

Mikasa arched her feet and gripped her handlebars so that her knuckles were white. “Well, if I can recall, I got to where I was from natural talent, not through perhaps dishonorable means.”

Suddenly, Hitch’s eyes flickered, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun. 

Mikasa was quicker in deflecting the bullets with her blades until Hitch ran out. Growling, she tossed it aside and raised her fists, in a position that she clearly learned from Annie. “Fine, then,” said Mikasa, who took off her own gear. “Let’s do it evenly. Give me everything you got.”

Hitch huffed, and the women ran forward.

***

Jean clenched his fists over the chains holding his arms over his head and tried not to show any sign of pain on his face. Both of his feet were broken, and he had a sensation like blood was pouring from his legs. Nevertheless, he glared at the damn Yeagerists who gave him looks of death that he delightfully returned. It’s not just that you wanted to kill innocent children, innocent lives, he wanted to scream at them. I know that you wanted to create an attack just so you can drive more people to your case, even if they left years ago!

“Are you ready to speak now?” sneered a soldier. “We have so many questions to ask, and we have all the time we need to beat them out of you.”

Jean nastily grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

The soldier grabbed Jean’s leg by the knee. “All right, then–”

Within seconds, the pain of a dislocated knee soared up Jean’s thigh.

***

Just then, Hitch raised her leg and kicked Mikasa in the chin, sending her tumbling back. 

The nasty chuckle that Hitch gave only angered Mikasa even more. “Motherhood clearly made you lose ground,” she taunted as she wiped her bloody nose. “It looks like you forgot what made you graduate at the top of your class.”

Not quite, Mikasa thought to herself. She pushed herself to her feet and ran forward, but Hitch was faster–a kick toward the face, but Mikasa defected it, grabbed Hitch’s knee, and spun her around so that Hitch instantly fell to the ground facedown. 

Same person, the black-haired woman thought to herself, different enemy closer to home. Then she grabbed Hitch by her elbows, forced her up onto her knees, and stepped on her ankles. “Where is my husband?” she spat. “If you thought your defeat was embarrassing, imagine what I can do to ten more people–it helped me take down more Titans than you would believe.”

Hitch snorted, so Mikasa pushed up her arm until Hitch cried out from the pain of a dislocated shoulder. “I’ll keep asking you until you give me a truthful answer,” she warned. “Trust me–I could do this as long as I need to.” She then shoved her knee into Hitch’s lower back. “But if you lure me into a trap, I have no problem finding you after I escape, and making you wish that I had killed you.”

Hitch groaned and hung her head. For extra security, Mikasa dislocated the other woman’s knees and paraded her throughout the empty streets. Seeing curious and relieved faces made the mother of three satisfied that not everybody agreed with the Yeagerists, yet also displeased that they refused to fight back and relied on semi-retired soldiers to take down the threat of terrorism.

You disappoint me, she bitterly thought.

***

I will not give in, Jean mentally shouted. He grit his teeth and ignored the pain in his knee. 

He thought of Mikasa, how she slowly became more than an infatuation and then his life partner. She was hesitant to return his feelings, not out of guilt for Eren but to ensure that Jean’s feelings were genuine and not out of lust. He asked every time he wanted to do something new, from holding her hand to kissing her cheek. One time, before they moved in together, she was crying so hard that he cradled her in his arms until they fell asleep together. When she woke up, she thanked him for not leaving her then, nor for taking advantage of her. He reassured her that any man who would harm a woman like that was a monster, and that she herself deserved comfort. 

“Answer me!” yelled a young woman who swiftly dislocated his right elbow. Jean groaned, but at least his arm was not broken or being dismembered. 

He concentrated on the first time they made love, how sweet and passionate they made it, how they were slow to undress each other. He listened to her every need and for discomfort because she deserved to enjoy it and feel safe at the same time. He had tears in his eyes because he could not believe that this was happening. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and pulled over her head and squeezed her hand, and barely winced when she sank her fingernails into his back. It was sweat and happy tears and desperate kisses on both ends. She had finished before he did, but he knew that a one-night stand or with someone for whom he did not feel as he did Mikasa would not have brought him to that intensity. Afterwards, he kissed her forehead and wrapped their blanket–and his arms–tightly around her as they whispered to each other to sleep.

His other elbow throbbed, but he pretended not to feel pain, for he recalled that one special memory, when he and his wife studied each other and made love in the cold river outside their log cabin. It wasn’t their first time in the river, but it was the most special because two days later, her birthday present to him was a tiny box with white baby shoes inside. Jean had never cried harder from joy at that point in his life until she had the baby.

He thought of the births of his children and the delight and fear each time that he became a father. Being the first to hold his children in his arms gave him an elation that no poem or song could sum up. Even the mild moments of frustration were nothing compared to the joy of watching them grow up into better human beings than he had ever been, and he was determined to maintain their sense of safety throughout their lives. 

He thought of his children’s namesakes, and why he and his wife agreed to name them after beloved friends. Whenever Eren made friends with boys and girls who didn’t fit in, Sasha poked her head through hanging laundry just to puff her cheeks when she knew that her father was unhappy, or Marco tried to fix his own problems on his own before asking for help, Jean wondered if his fallen friends were proud of the legacy that Jean was giving him in their honor. All he wanted was for them to grow up healthy and strong, and give him and his wife similar–if not greater–grandchildren. 

Pound, POUND!

“Who the hell is that?” someone demanded.

Through blurry eyes, Jean turned his head to the knocking. Just then, the door opened, and a body flung onto the floor. 

“Hitch!” cried the Yeagerists. Jean noticed that his former ally was hog-tied and gagged with a white cloth, and his eyes widened.

“Who did this to you?”

“Was it one of those so-called Warriors?”

They removed the gag from her mouth, and Hitch was crying from either pain or humiliation. “It…It was…”

The door flung open. “Come and get me,” said the voice that he loved to hear every day, the voice that thanked him for being a wonderful father and husband, the voice that whispered every time they made love…

Still, Jean struggled to focus, but he knew from the constant grunts and her angry yells that his warrior wife was winning. He heard the snap of broken bones and bodies slammed against the wall in a dizzying circle. It ended with deep pants. 

“Thanks for the tip, Hitch,” he heard her say right before a crunch, a cry, and a body slump. Then the footsteps drew closer. “Jean! Oh, thank goodness, you’re still alive.”

Jean grinned, but his body ached for him to willingly talk. She grabbed his face and kissed him. “Stay with me, all right?”

She searched the unconscious bodies for the key and freed him from his chains. He partially collapsed onto her and groaned. “Th–They dislocated…” He tried to lift his aching head. “All the joints…they hurt…”

“I know,” she said, “but I’ll help you out of here.”

With one arm over her shoulder, she escorted him up the stairs and into the sunlight. She set him onto the ground and knelt down to stroke his face until Armin and the others arrived. Reiner picked up Jean and carried him all the way to the hospital, where Jean passed out in the cool building.

***

Jean was slow to wake up but knew that he could not stay asleep anymore. He dimly opened his eyes and failed to suppress a yawn. His wife was curled up in the sheets, her bare back against his bare chest and her long hair tumbling over the pillow. He had his arm around her waist and his bare leg draped over hers. A hot flash erupted in his chest. How did he get so lucky that his dreams became manifestations that turned out to be better than he imagined? 

He didn’t know if she was feigning sleep, so he decided not to surprise her with an omelet or treat himself to scotch. He just wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could. They were talking seriously about expanding their family, and he knew that once a child entered their lives, they would have limited time alone, even to conceive again. The one thing he knew, though, was that, regardless of how many children she bore and how her body would change, he would still find her attractive and want to squeeze her against his naked body in his sleep, just like in the present. 

“Jean?” It was her sweet voice. “Are you awake?”

“No,” he responded. “Why? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not.” She adjusted her arm over the blanket. “I’ve been awake since the sun rose. I just didn’t want to get out of bed.”

Jean pulled her closer to his chest and moved his arm to align under hers. “Me neither.” He shoved his face between her shoulder and neck, and breathed in her natural scent. “I never thought how much I could appreciate mornings like this, where we have nothing to wake up to.”

Mikasa huffed. “Agreed.” She hesitated. “We had too many sacrifices and unnecessary deaths to bring us here, but…our–our roles that we had in bringing us this peace…I wouldn’t give up anything.”

No matter how much Jean would miss Marco and Sasha, and mourn that even Levi’s past squad never had this chance to wake up with an intimate partner, he felt that neither would have wanted him to be deprived of that privilege. If even one cadet could find lifelong happiness and live a desired life outside the army, then that was for what his fallen comrades had fought.

Secretly, Jean wondered if Eren, his family, and even Jean’s late in-laws would have thanked him for making Mikasa happy, the way that Jean’s mother had thanked her. Even if his mother had hated her and did not think that her son could feel safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, Jean would still want to marry, have a family with, and grow old with the orphan girl. How Jean yearned to tell his younger self that he and the young woman whose long black hair he adored would make each other happier than he ever imagined. 

***

There were dim sounds, like speech–different people talking, with old and younger pitches. Nothing was clear yet, but they were familiar sounds. Some sounded worried, others uncertain. His body felt like it was levitating like in a street magic show. Blood rushed down his face, and his skin started to hurt. What was this? Was this a new Path that he somehow joined?

Wait–there was light, light ahead…and some dark shape at the end of it…

Jean slowly opened his eyes. Mikasa smiled in relief. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. She held up a white cloth and dabbed at his warm face. Jean signed as the memories came back of the torture and pain, but she was safe. She was alive. It wasn’t a dream, he knew. 

Suddenly, their three children’s faces popped into his sight. “Dada!” they cheered. 

“Children, shush,” said Mikasa. “You promised that you would keep your voice down when he woke up.”

Sasha climbed as much as she could onto the bed and kissed Jean’s cheek. “We were worried, Dada,” she said. “Then Uncle Armin and Uncle Connie came to the farm after two days–we were very good–and they didn’t say what happened.”

Eren pulled Sasha off the bed by her waist and ignored her complaints. “They just said that you were hurt,” he said, “so Aunt Annie made sure we all got to come here.”

Mikasa picked up Marco, whom she bounced on her lap. “The doctor readjusted your joints, but you will still be sore for up to a week, he thinks,” she said.

Jean sighed. The soreness he could deal with, but the broken bones were his main problem. Did the doctor offer to lend them a wheelchair so that he didn’t have to hurt his feet anymore with crutches or have to stay in bed while he healed? He looked around and saw that they were in his bedroom, having taken him home right from the hospital. How long was he unconscious?

Then the door opened, and Connie led the Arlets into the room. Baby Arlet sucked her thumb in Annie’s arms, but her older brothers flung their arms over the foot of the bed. “Uncle Jean, guess what he did?” whispered Leonhart, who waved a piece of paper. 

“We made you a card,” hissed his older brother, who bounced on his feet. “We hope you get well soon and can go outside with us for picnics in the park.”

“Thank you, boys,” said Jean. 

Eventually, Mikasa sent her children into the kitchen to surprise Dada with a special dinner, and then asked Connie and the Arlets to please supervise so no fights would break out over something silly. Her friends ushered the Arlet boys out of the room, leaving her alone with her husband. She helped him sit up, removed the loose tunic as gently as she could, and pulled from behind him a bowl full of water and a blue cloth. 

Jean smirked. “Is this really why you asked the children to surprise us with dinner–to get a good look?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “I can see it every night, when the children go to bed, and I would never tire of it.” She wiped down his arms and collarbone, cleaned the cloth, and focused on his midsection. He watched his wife’s delicate arm move over his skin in small circles. She shifted behind him only to wipe his bare back and the back of his neck. He heard her set aside the bowl and felt her soft lips on his shoulder blade. Her kiss on the back of his neck was harder, as were the pecks going down his backbone. 

“You know that you can cry if you need to,” he reminded her. He knew her long enough that he knew when she had the urge. 

“Not until the children go to bed,” she whispered. After she kissed both halves of his wide, muscular chest, she moved on to each tied joint and then his lips. She carefully separated her legs over his lap, careful not to touch his aching hips, and held his face in both hands so that he wouldn’t stop kissing her. 

Jean wished that his elbows and shoulders were not dislocated because he desperately wanted to pull his wife closer to him in his arms and tug on her long hair. The kissing did not last as long as he would have wanted; she broke away after hearing two knocks on the door, followed by, “Dada! Can we come on? We have dinner ready!”

Eren, Sasha, and Marco together cooked for Dada an omelet with potato chunks rather than rice, diced zucchini with sauce that Dada liked, and a chicken thigh. It smelled quite appetizing. The three took turns feeding Dada, who was grateful that the Yeagerists didn’t dislocate his jaw, and made sure that he ate every bite, “including the gross potatoes,” Sasha added with her nose wrinkled. Mikasa did not send them back to wash the dishes until forty minutes after Dada finished eating, but Marco said that Connie and the Arlets were already at the sink so he, Sasha, and Eren could spend more time with their father. The next four hours flew by, and everyone wished Jean a good night and easy sleep.

Eren, Sasha, and Marco fell asleep around their father, but Mikasa was too tired and lazy to pick them up and move them into a different bed. She curled up to her husband’s chest and lured herself asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

It seemed so long ago that she dreamt of Eren and herself isolating themselves in a cabin to live out the remainder of his life. Looking back, she realized that she wasn’t that selfish; she just wanted to spend as much time with the one family member she had left and let him know how much she cared.

At this point, she instead dreamt that she had a terminal illness and had even less than four years of life left. Unlike what she would have wanted for her friend, she would have preferred to stay in the apartment. She would have had multiple gatherings with her fellow cadet graduates, tasted everything on the menu at Nicolo’s restaurant and listened to what he knew about food from different countries and cultures, researched her heritage with her children, made love to her husband like she could not believe, and opted to see more of the world. Then she would peacefully pass away with no one but her husband and three children at her side to remind her that she fought for and lived a great life.

When she woke up the next morning and looked at the family that she helped build, she assumed that her mother and father would have been proud of where she ended up and the life she created after losing everything at that point. 

The family spent the day flipping through Jean’s filled sketchbooks as far back as when he was newly married. The children were fascinated to see how much detail their father put into artwork that resembled photographs before more Eldians took to photography. Of course, their apartment had photographs of their growing family, but Sasha and her brothers already could not imagine a life without that technology, let alone to capture intimate moments of her parents admiring newborn Eren or Sasha herself kissing baby Marco’s cheek. Only after the three (reluctantly) went to sleep in a different room did the couple flip through some of the more private sketches, such as Mikasa nursing their babies and her various body parts two days before she gave birth to Eren, her hands over where the doctor said that the fetus’s feet and head were at that point.

Then she flipped back pages to a personal favorite, which turned out to be the morning after Sasha was conceived. Jean sketched his wife, under the blanket, holding up a camera to take a picture of her husband at the foot of their bed and sketching her as he saw her. She even clipped the photograph of Jean to the page as a reminder of the “simpler time” when they were experimenting with unfamiliar technologies that would definitely shape the following generations. Neither bothered to dress; they covered themselves with their shared blanket.

“An innocent time, it seemed like,” he thought out loud. 

“No,” she said with a smile. “It was just one step further into our lives together, as we were rebuilding.” She leaned her head against his arm and admired how he drew her fingers clutching the camera. “It’s something that you and I can look back on with fondness.”

When Jean turned his head to meet her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbow. “Do you remember how you used to say, ‘I’m not him’, ‘It’s not who I am’?” She took a deep breath and continued: “I…I am glad you are not. I was always happy that you are a different person.”

Jean blinked, stunned. Mikasa reached forward and stroked his cheek. “The love I felt for him was different. And…I always will love and miss him, but I realized…” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “The love I have for you, I could never have with him.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “Mika, understand this–I never wanted to be him anyway, because I knew that he had flaws that were not healthy for any of us in the Corps. You know what he planned to do, and you allowed yourself to admit that you disagreed with it. That is a brave thing.” He motioned for her to move her head to his face, and he kissed her cheek. “I probably would have stopped feeling anything for you but anger if you did not bother to fight back. I know that you’ll carry this feeling for the rest of your life, but think of it like this: If you never did make that decision to kill him and stop the massacre of thousands of more people, you would have spent the rest of your life and even your dying moments regretting it.”

That stopped her crying, and Jean was tired but wanted to continue. “You saved thousands of other lives, my love, just by you admitting that you couldn’t allow your love to continue like that. And…” As he smiled, tears filled his eyes. “Our children–our three babies–they would not exist.”

Mikasa wiped her face and nodded in agreement. “True,” she said, “and I hope that Sasha and the boys will learn that story one day, and learn something from it.”

“They will,” Jean promised. “I know they will. That’s why we visit the grave every year–so they learn something every time, about doing what’s right, and how to grow up: Move on, but don’t forget.”

“I know,” his wife smiled. “I love you.”

Jean echoed her and deeply kissed her. Then she lied on her side, cuddled up to him as best as she could, and repeated that mantra in her mind so she could one day tell the three people for whom her life was centered: Move on, but don’t forget. Move on, but don’t forget.

***

So many things happened, wonderful and terrible. Life truly went on, and more than fifty years had passed since she made that fateful decision to end her best friend’s life. Had he lived, he would indeed have been amazed with how unrecognizable their home was.

The couple led the way to the tree, followed by Sasha, Marco, and, on behalf of her absent husband, Eren’s wife, all of whom brought their children with them while Sasha’s and Marco’s spouses waited by the cars. 

Jean still supported her after she stepped off her wheelchair and towards her friend’s final resting place. True to his word, he loved her the older and grayer she became; true to her word, she felt just as attracted to him as when they pledged their lives together.

Mikasa still felt the same every time she saw the headstone. It was always nice to stand here and pay her respects to her childhood friend. At that point in her life, he had been her entire world; now, her entire world was right behind her but also preparing for her departure within the next few years or the next decade. This time, it was bittersweet to think that one day, she would join him, reunite with her own parents, and the fallen comrades. She just knew that everyone in her family would still come to the burial grounds, and she wouldn’t change that as long as they were still able to live long lives as she had.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #mikasa x jean #jeankasa #armin arlert #annie leonhart #reiner braun #pieck finger #historia reiss #aruani #eren yeager #eren jaeger #sasha blouse #sasha braus #marco bodt #marco bott #jean x mikasa #the battle of heaven and earth #levi ackerman #aot #connie springer

[inhellwithdante]

[I haven't posted on here in ages so here's some post-canon, fluff and angst JeanKasa + Baby 💕🍼]

Jean ran from the car to the front door right as he pulled the handbrake: both from the excitement of finally seeing his family again, but he'd also forgotten his umbrella.

He opened the door, and no "I'M HOMEEEEE" was needed, that Mikasa clinged onto him as soon as he came into her field of view.

No room for words or greetings, before they got tired of kissing, resting their foreheads against their spouse's, and kissing again.

"Fuck, I missed you.."

"That was my line.."

A final kiss, and finally: "Welcome back, honey.."

"I missed you like air, precious. How are you feeling..? Got any headaches while I was away?"

"Mh, barely.. Marco kept me busy enough anyway."

Taking his hat and jacket off, dropping his suitcase next to the hanger, Jean looked around for the crib. He could smell it again, that newborn smell.

"He's right next to the fireplace, it was even colder until about an hour ago. I'll prepare a warm bath for you while you say hi to him, boo.."

"Oh, go sit down a little, Mikasa. You must be exhausted."

"You look more exhausted, Jean. C'mon, let me spoil you too sometimes, or I'll feel even more guilty.."

They really were kiss-deprived, still.

"Alright, you win.. Let me watch him until it's time to make dinner while you rest a bit, okay?"

"After you'll have your very-late-lunch, then that's a deal.."

That sounded the tiniest bit like a threat, but he felt pampered and loved.

"So, who do we have here again..?"

Peeking over the crib, Jean whispered.

"Hey, he's grown a little..!"

Taking measurements of his son with his hands, gently and barely brushing his raven locks while being careful not to wake him up by tickling his toes, Jean watched over the bundle in adoration.

"Here, sweetie: Papa got ya this from his work trip, for your first monthly birthday, you can take the time to enjoy when you wake up, 'aight..?"

Mikasa's eyes got wet before she could even approach the crib and look at the present; Jean hugged her and lightly kissed her head, twice.

They took deep and long breaths looking down at their baby: Mikasa cupped in hers the man's hand that rested on the crib, to feel his warmth.

"Holy, you're so cold Mikasa.. Mind joining me for the bath?"

Resting her hands on his cheek and shoulder, she realised that she was, indeed, very cold.

She was always cold, and married to a human stove; no wonder they became parents within two years from their first date.

"Of course."

She kissed his lips, before she headed for the upstairs to get the bath warm and ready.

While Jean, kept an eye on little Marco as he had his lunch, too.

¤¤¤

Mikasa smiled as she was finally done waiting for her husband to join her on the couch; she was right about to fall asleep, listening to the white noises of the water running down the sink and the wood burning in the fireplace.

"Is it warm enough, honey?"

"Yeah, it's perfect.."

Then, finally, her man joined her: scooping her up in his arms, they curled around each other in the corner of their couch.

Laying her head on his chest, Mikasa took a deep breath: a tear ran down her eye, she couldn't help it.

Jean said nothing, but added one more kiss on her forehead.

"Deep breaths, precious..."

"I'm okay, just... very emotional, still. I think my period's coming back already."

Jean snorted, lightly: "Phew, it's kind of too early for a baby sister, yet..."

"Jean..!"

She almost hissed, playfully.

She wasn't like that before she got comfortable with Jean: he'd driven her to teach herself how to be silly and light as a little girl again.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you on the phone.."

"Mh, what is it?"

Resting her chin on his chest, looking up to stare back into the man's eyes, Mikasa massaged his beard while he ran his fingers down her long hair.

"Marco's been smiling, these past couple of days. I-I almost cried when he first smiled at me.."

"That's so cute, he loves his mama so much..! Why are you sad, beautiful?"

"It's dumb."

"I bet it's not. You can tell me, if you want."

The woman kept silent for a few seconds: she listened to the wood burning in the fireplace, the baby's noises as he still slept, her man's heart beating regularly.

"Such a tiny thing, smiling at me... do I deserve it?"

Jean's heart skipped some beats, under her cheek. "Why do you doubt that, honey?"

"These hands were covered in blood. The same hands that touch our child now."

The man was left speechless for a moment. The silence was broken by baby Marco's cries; Mikasa got up immediately, and Jean followed her.

"What is it, sweetie pie..?" Mikasa kissed her baby, holding him on her chest. The boy stopped crying the second he could smell Mama again.

"Look who's back..! Is that Papa? Is it your Papa?"

"Yeah, buddy, hello..! Have you seen your new toy?"

Jean picked up from the crib the tiny duck plushie he'd bought at the market in Liberio, strolling down a street that hadn't been 'fixed' yet. He couldn't believe he and his wife had been parents for a full month, already: his hands shaked a bit when his son gripped his tiny fists around his finger.

"He's gonna love it, Jean.. Oh, are you hungry..?"

That boy was indeed hungry.

Jean burped him afterwards, and had him lay on his chest for some bonding quality time. Mikasa was so glad she'd found such a sweet and caring man, a present father, a dedicated husband and a best friend for life.

She smiled softly at her boys, not thinking of anything else for once.

Jean noticed: "Are you feeling better, precious?"

He realised he'd made a mistake when he witnessed his wife snapping out of that longed-for peace of mind, back to the real world.

Jean bit his own tongue.

"I'm sorry, Mikasa."

That couldn't possibly be enough, so he added: "We can't erase the past, it'll stay there. And my hands were covered in blood, too. Since we had Marco, I keep thinking of the children I might have made orphans without knowing it."

"What will he think of us, when he finds out?" Mikasa's voice broke in the middle of that sentence.

Jean didn't have an answer to that: he was mortally scared of that, too.

"I... don't know yet. We don't have to tell him, necessarily."

"He'll find out one way or the other. Will we ever stop having night terrors?"

Jean clenched his lips.

He repeated: "I don't know yet."

"Sorry, I'm stressing you out too, now."

She thought that the man needed a kiss on the forehead, so she kissed him.

"It's alright, we can't pretend like we haven't done the things we've done. But we happened to live during very hard times, and we'll raise a smart child that will be able to consider the context once he's grown."

"It just feels unfair to him. I'd feel bad if I found out today, that my late parents had killed people before I was born."

Jean nodded to that, wiping his eyes. It was clear, he didn't really believe in what he'd just said.

"Do I deserve to have children?"

"You do. You're the best mother ever."

"How can you say that?"

"You have had the roughest childhood and adolescence that led you into a very much complicated adulthood, to this day. Still, you're so sweet to this boy and he's your everything, isn't he..?"

"You're part of my 'everything' too, Jean." She couldn't put into words how glad she was, she had someone like Jean in her life.

"I love you." It slipped out of Jean's mouth without him realising it, but he of course meant it.

"I love you too." She thought kisses on the cheek to be special, almost as special as kisses on the lips.

They went on with their day avoiding the matter again, they didn't want to suffer anymore for a few hours.

But as she fed her baby in the middle of the night, to try and soothe him back to sleep when everything else had failed, Mikasa realised what Jean was trying to say, that afternoon.

And she told him, as she closed the door to their bedroom behind her back again. She found her favourite tea to be waiting for her.

"It's too early to get up yet. Let's sleep a couple more hours, then in the morning I'll chop some more wood so it'll be all set for when my mother comes babysitting."

The ravenette suddenly remembered: it was her birthday already, the clock said it was past midnight.

"Happy birthday, Mikasa."

Jean swore to himself he was going to do everything in his power, to make her special day even more special.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirschtien #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan #post canon #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #fluff #angst #jeankasa baby

[pandasan-power]

Post-canon SnK headcanons. Contains spoilers for the end of the manga, please read at your own risk!

(DISCLAIMER: Please do not take these seriously lol)

Mikasa's partner/husband is Jean. She spends a few years mourning Eren and Jean is always there supporting her. They end up getting together at some point and having kids.

Jeankasa's first-born kid, regardless of gender, is named Eren.

Everyone else (mostly) has a kid named Eren too.

Mikasa tries to distance herself from politics but always ends up getting roped into disputes. She'd rather just be a housewife.

Jean is the next leader of the Survey Corps but after a coup he gets kicked out.

Falbi are the first couple to have a kid and it's unexpected. Falco doesn't really handle it well.

Falco has a job related to peace talks and Gabi uhhhh... Gabi probably sticks to military stuff.

Levi marries a woman he meets in Marley who's a friend of Onyankopon's. Initially he's very against the idea of having kids, but his wife points out that it would be a huge fuck you to Zeke, and that (eventually) convinces him to be a dad. Everyone is shocked when they find out.

Connie has a thing with Nicolo. They hook up after Connie starts working at Nicolo's restaurant.

Annie and Armin get together, rush into marriage, have an unexpected kid and things proceed to go tits up. Armin is very mentally unstable for most of the rest of his life.

Annie works as a martial arts instructor and passes on the teachings of her dad. Armin becomes a marine biologist after he steps down as the Survey Corps commander and passes the job on to Jean.

Reiner remains single because he doesn't think he's worthy of someone else's affection. (And his crush is taken.) He's a nurse? Idk I like nurse Reiner.

Pieck never marries. She spends her days working as an archivist for Marley.

Yelena survived and was arrested and sent to jail for war crimes. While in jail, she discovers she's pregnant, escapes and runs off to a far-away country. Her kid is either Eren's or Zeke's (I haven't decided which lol) and she keeps them hidden.

The kid walking up to Eren's tree at the very end of the manga is Mikasa's descendant and they're looking for Eren so they can awaken the powers of the Founding Titan and revive him.

Falco and Gabi eventually reclaim the Survey Corps from the Yeagerists and end up being in control of most of Paradis's military.

Onyankopon is a hairstylist? Also I see him getting married but maybe not having kids.

Historia's husband is killed during another uprising attempt but Historia and her daughter are unharmed.

A few decades after his death, Eren becomes a meme.

Eventually the idea of titans becomes a conspiracy theory and many people don't think they ever actually existed (or at least not in the way they did in canon).

Paradis eventually becomes completely uninhabitable -- as in the entire island, not just the hill. However, a handful of people escape to the underground and reside there. The underground is accessible through Eren's tree, and many inhabitants are related to the main/secondary characters.

Mikasa's descendant discovers the underground civilisation and gets to know the people living there.

Eren is chilling in paths in place of Ymir Fritz and gets a surprise when someone who looks kinda sorta like Mikasa shows up (don't ask me how they're able to use paths, maybe it's the direct contact with the Founder).

Maybe eventually, once it's destroyed, Paradis is treated as though it never existed and is erased from the history books. Similarly to Paradis residents being brainwashed into thinking the rest of the world is gone.

Mikasa passes on the Azumabito mark to her kids and they pass it on to theirs.

Mikasa's descendant never visited Paradis because it was destroyed before they were born, but they would always read their (great?) grandmother's diaries and letters and wished to go one day.

The dog seen with the kid is named Sasha. All dogs owned by Jeankasa's family are named Sasha. This one is Sasha V.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK spoilers #AoT spoilers #Shingeki no Kyojin spoilers #Attack on Titan spoilers #SnK headcanons #Sorry for all the babies ever after stuff but I think it works in this setting #Especially given the whole neverending cycle thing #Also I know [redacted]'s husband's identity ultimately does not matter but I'm giving him an identity until proven otherwise god dammit

[dancingazaleas]

jeankasa | to feel loved (smut)

i won’t ever stop talking about them

tagging @jaegerisms cause we ship them together😫

edit: i have a really bad headache so this is all i could write for rn without feeling like my head would explode

warnings: cursing, modern au, smut, nsfw, soft sex, romantic(?) sex, emotional sex, cunnilingus, hand holding, crying, jean loves mikasa more than she’ll ever know

jean stared at his teary eyed girlfriend in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she tells him about the bicker she’d gotten in with eren.

“said he hated me,” she whimpers, “said that everyone hates me. said that you hate me most of all.”

jean’s eyes widen at the last statement, highly offended at eren’s accusations. he pulls away just a bit, holding her flushed cheeks in his large tan hands.

“baby, i could never hate you,” he whispers with a slightly dopey smile, “i love you forever.”

she sobs, “i just... i know you do, but he said it so much.... said it over and over and over again when he realized that’s what made me falter.”

frowning, jean tells her, “i love you so much, more than you’ll ever know. what can i do to show you that?”

she sniffles, fluttering her teary eyes at him as she scoots closer to him on his lap.

her reds turn a vermillion red as she reverts her teary eyes, “can you... make love to me?”

jean’s eyebrows shoot up at the request, but he immediately regains composure.

“if that’s what you want and need,” he strokes her cheek with his thumb, loving eyes now staring into her’s.

jeans grunts a bit as he sits up, grabbing mikasa by her waist and gently pushing her back onto the mattress. his lips press against her’s gently, hands running up and down her torso.

he pulls away to stare at the hands he has groping her boobs with a blush, shyly squeezing them. mikasa makes a little noise, silently telling him to hurry up.

he chuckles, hands sneaking up her shirt to pull it off of her muscular body. his fingers graze across her abs, a fond smile plastered onto his face. he helps her take off her sports bra, now staring at her bashful pink nipples. she had a mole on her right boob near her armpit, something that jean likes to point out whenever people mention soulmates in past lives favorite places to kiss.

he pecks at the mole, something that makes mikasa embarrassed every time the two of them have sex.

his hot mouth sucks on one of her nipples while his other hand softly kneads her other boob.

“jean,” she whimpers a bit, wiggling her hips.

when jean pulls away, it makes a popping noise that almost has jean laughing. he puts a hand on mikasa’s face.

“what’s wrong?”

“kiss please,” she mumbles politely, and jean can’t help but give in.

he gives her a sweet and passionate kiss, helping mikasa slip off her jeans along with her panties.

jean trails his lips to her neck, firstly kissing where her adam’s apple would be. his lips don’t separate from her neck while his fingers lazily rub at mikasa’s clit. she’s whining softly into jean’s ear, telling him that she feels so good because of him.

jean sucks a hickey into her neck, pulling back to admire the ripe bruise that shines against her pale skin.

“so pretty,” he sighs lovingly, “my pretty girl.”

he continues leaving kisses down on her sternum, to her stomach and finally down to her pretty little clit. he gently spreads her legs open, whistling at how her wetness glistens in the light.

she looks as if she’s going to speak, but jean interrupts her as he gives kitten licks to her clit. mikasa claws at the sheets while biting her lip, trying to hold back her angelic moans.

jean pulls away, “let me hear you, please.”

she gives half of a nod, gasping quietly whenever jean resumes kissing at her clit. it’s slow and gentle, something that jean was always a fan of.

as jean licks at her, he feels himself getting lost in mikasa. her needy whimpers as she softly pulls at his hair while her toes curl.

jean slips two of his fingers inside of her, immediately curling them against her sweet spot.

“pl—ease!” she moans out, trying to close her legs around jean’s head.

jean doesn’t stop, he just increases his speed slightly while slipping a third finger inside of her.

“jean...!” she cries while arching her back.

he hums against her clit, shooting vibrations all the way up to her head.

mikasa comes while she cries jean’s name, tears slipping out of her eyes from the slow and intense orgasm.

jean continues to eat mikasa out though, which makes her legs shake around his head.

moments later, she’s coming again while letting out sobs due to the slow and slightly intense orgasms that jean’s provided her with.

he smiles, now rubbing circles into her clit with his thumb, “there we go.”

“j-jean, please,” she whimpers, “just want you in me.”

and like the good boyfriend he is, he obliges without complaint.

he shimmies off his clothes, pumping his cock in his hand while reaching to their bedside table to grab a condom.

“no,” she shyly tugs on his wrist, “want your cum inside me.”

he blushes while giving a shaky nod.

he lines up his cock with her, gently pressing his hips against her pelvis.

she cries again, grabbing at the air in search for jean’s hand. he interlocks their fingers, leaning some of his weight onto that and the other half onto his hand on her tummy.

“so good... so good!!” she moans, her free hand holding onto his arm.

“i love you,” he grunts while thrusting, soon groaning after at how mikasa’s cunt tightens around his cock.

“love you, ‘kasa,” he babbles, slowly letting his emotions overcome him as his thrusting turns erratic.

“love you so much,” his tears drip on her, “love you the most.”

she cries and wraps her legs around him.

“i... i love you jean,” she sobs, “love you... to the moon ‘n back.”

jean plants his elbows by her head, kissing mikasa. he ignores the salty taste of their tears mixing together as they deepen the kiss.

mikasa whines when jean pulls away and grabs her hand.

he brings it up to his lips, rugged lips pecking gently at her knuckles with care. he kisses at her fingertips, then holds the hand to his lips while his tears run onto it.

“i love you so much,” he cries, trying to ignore the impending orgasm. he doesn’t want this to end.

“love you jean, love you so much,” she cries shakily, “gonna cum... gonna cum!”

she comes a few moments later, loud sobs falling from her lips as jean continues you thrust aimlessly in her.

jean comes seconds behind her, throwing his head back with gritted teeth.

he flops down on the bed next to her, wiping away his tears while mikasa crawls to his chest.

“i love you so much,” he whimpers against her cheek while kissing it, “more than i can ever say.”

she laughs shakily, scooting herself closer to him, “i know.... i love you more.”

“not a chance.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot jean #jean aot #jean x mikasa #jeankasa #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #attack on titan mikasa #snk mikasa #mikasa ackerman #aot smut #snk smut

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Day 2 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: First Time

"In the moonlight"

Ao3

Before they move out for college, Gothkasa takes Jean to the place where she wants them to have their first time.

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Jean pulled up to her driveway at six, sharp. She didn’t like to wait long for dates, so he always made a point of showing up in time. Some of his friends always made fun of him when it came to all the things he did to keep her happy, but Jean didn’t care. Those guys would never even stand a chance to date someone as smart and beautiful as Mikasa Ackerman.

Besides, it wasn’t like she demanded to be spoiled to be happy; in fact, Mikasa was surprisingly easy to keep happy.

That was why he made an extra effort to keep her extra happy. A woman like her was not one to be left waiting, a woman like her deserved nothing but sweet, honest words and actions, presents, quality time together.

“Kirstein, I can’t believe you went ahead and got it,” she said as she stepped out of her front porch. She looked as lovely as ever, with her dark eyeshadow, pink cheeks, and purple lipstick. Today, she had her hair loose, which cascaded down her shoulders, dark as a raven’s wing.

Her clothes, however…Jean had to force himself not to stare. She wore a short, sleeveless dress that only reached her midthighs. The rest of her legs, she’d covered with pretty black stockings that were almost see through. On her neck, she wore a lace collar, while her collarbones and chest were exposed.

“I-of course!” Jean said, shaking his head to keep himself from staring. “We’ll be in college next month, won’t we? I thought this would be a good way to move around.”

They were going to move in together to an apartment in Trost in only a couple of weeks. Jean would’ve married her right out of school, but his family and her parents had insisted on holding off until they lived together for at least half a year to start thinking about long term commitments.

“I can teach you to ride it,” he said as he climbed off the motorcycle and offered her the purple helmet he’d bought for her.

Mikasa smiled when she took it. “How can I pay you back?”

Jean smiled back and put a hand on her waist to pull her closer. Her lips met his readily, welcoming and sweet. “Just keep looking pretty.”

“I was thinking about another type of payment.” She said, looking up at him with serious eyes. “Something that involves my body,”

“Stop teasing,” Jean cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot in his face, but Mikasa’s lips were on his before he said anything.

He welcomed her mouth, parting his lips so she could put her tongue inside him, and sighed in delight when she put her arms on his shoulders and pressed herself to him. His hands went to her waist, and then to rest on her buttocks. When Mikasa pressed the spot between her legs on his thighs, Jean squeezed her butt in his large hands, feeling his dick grow inside his pants.

“Mikasa,” a sweet voice said from the door. She stepped away from him, turning to see her mother standing on the doorstep. “Honey, you forgot your backpack. And stop making out on here while your father’s inside.”

Mikasa took the backpack from her mom, and they exchanged a tiny smile. “Hello, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Hi, Jean, darling,” the woman said, giving him a sincere smile. “That’s a nice motorcycle.”

Jean scratched the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“He bought it himself,” Mikasa said in a complicit tone of voice.

“To get yourselves killed, I’m sure,” her father said, showing up at the door with a newspaper in his hand and a frown. “Hey, Jean, how are you tonight?”

Jean cleared his throat; he always felt like a little kid when Mikasa’s parents were around. “I’m good, sir, how about you?”

“I’m concerned about you two, thanks,” Mr. Ackerman said, then his eyes went to the motorcycle. “Are you two going out in that?”

“We’ll be fine,” Mikasa said, standing on her tiptoes to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “Dad, we’re eighteen. Jean has a permit. We’ll be alright.”

Mr. Ackerman wasn’t satisfied with her words. “How far are you two going again, Jean?”

“It’s the sea festival,” Mikasa explained, going down the steps and walking back in Jean’s direction. And again, Jean forced himself to not stare at the swaying of her breasts as she went towards him. She must’ve been wearing one of those flimsy lace bras she loved so much; heavens, how much he longed to see how it looked on her (although he knew she surely looked fantastic).

“All the way to the beach?” her dad said, his eyes wide. A second later, he was shaking his head. “No, you’re not going in that to the beach.”

“Dad, we’re moving out in a month,” Mikasa said. “We’ve been on a motorcycle before.”

“If it’s a festival, people are going to be drunk on the way back,” he told her. Mrs. Ackerman was looking at her husband with a gaze so sweet, Jean wondered if he and Mikasa should just head out and let them be at peace. “And you’re not even using pants. What if something happens? You’re going to get so injured—”

“Dad,” Mikasa said, walking back towards her parents. “What do you want me to do?”

Mr. Ackerman peeked into the house for a second before giving her a pair of keys. “Take the car. Also, don’t get drunk.”

Mikasa took the keys and looked back at him to shake them questioningly, and Jean nodded in agreement. He loved her too much to say no to her, and besides, her father had made plenty of valid points. As much as he wanted to take her out on a ride on their new motorcycle, he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. He loved her too much.

__________________________

Mikasa looked out the window for a moment, noticing the full moon peeking through the trees as they moved away from the city and into the highway. Taylor swift was playing on the radio, and she smiled when Jean started to sing the lyrics to Paper Rings in a low voice while moving his head to the rhythm. He was untangling her earphones, which she’d buried deep in her bag that afternoon, when the very last bell had rung to let them know school was over.

“That lipstick of yours is good,” Jean said absent mindedly. “It didn’t even smudge when you kissed me.”

“It smudges when you get your mouth really wet,” Mikasa said, casting a glance at her boyfriend. He wore a silly pair of trousers today, but the fabric of the pants wasn’t as thick as Jeans would’ve been, and Mikasa had felt the bulge in his pants when they’d kissed.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she was sure.

“So, how’s Eren?” Jean asked, giving her a sideways glance.

“He sent me a picture today,” she said, dipping a hand in her back to bring out her phone. “Look it up; he and Armin climbed the volcano today. Armin roasted marshmallows on the way to the top.”

Jean put his fingerprint against the home button, and the phone unlocked. They had access to each other’s phones not out of insecurities, but simply because it was easier that way. Things were ridiculously easy with him, and she adored that. She loved the quiet, peaceful certainty that she was loved by a man whose feelings would not change; she loved that she could love him back as intensely and as weirdly as she wanted, and he would not judge her for it.

“Hey, Armin’s face is all red, and he looks like a dumbass,” Jean chuckled, pointing at Eren. “They go to the islands next, right? It looks like they’re on vacation, though. Aren’t they supposed to be helping Grisha on his expedition?”

And to think she’d considered him annoying before. Mikasa smiled, then gave Jean another look.

“What is it?” Jean asked as she turned to look back at the road.

“I’m glad the charm didn’t work,” Mikasa said, recalling that repellent charm she’d given him on their first year of high school, in which he’d incessantly tried to get her to go out with him. She’d found him annoying, incredibly annoying, but they’d been young. Now, they were proper adults. Well, now they were both eighteen, and things had changed.

“What charm?” Jean asked, confused. “Did I buy you the wrong things?”

Mikasa shook her head, smiling more. He didn’t only not judge her interests, but also took an active part in them, he was interested in everything she did, and she was pretty sure he’d had a conversation with the great god of the underworld during one of their full moon seances. He was also smart, and he could stay in silence with her for long periods of time without feeling uncomfortable.

And wickedly handsome, especially now that his hair had grown a bit, and there was a stubble adorning his chin. He’d also grown taller. It all made him look more like an adult, and Mikasa trembled at the thought of being held by his muscular arms.

She clutched the steering wheel and took a deep breath, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her as she turned right, into a stretch of road she’d scouted weeks ago, a little while after Jean had asked her to live with him after school finished.

“This isn’t the exit, babe,”

“I know,” Mikasa said, turning on the headlights. The road was quiet, and the only sources of light were the moon and headlights from their car. They drove in silence for a little while until the road stopped abruptly in front of a thick stretch of forest. Mikasa parked the car in front of the trees, turning off the headlights.

“Mika, this isn’t the way to the beach,” he said, staring at the forest ahead. “What are we doing?”

“Jean,” Mikasa said. “Kiss me?”

She never had to ask twice when it came to kissing. He always said yes when she asked, he always did it enthusiastically. When his mouth met hers, his kiss was sweet, slow. But Mikasa didn’t want that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, making him moan against her lips. She rubbed her tongue against his, moving it in circles as she caressed his hair.

“Mikasa,” Jean whispered, looking at the rearview mirror as she kissed his neck. “What if someone sees us?!”

“No one will see,” Mikasa said, then reached out to adjust the seat he was on. Jean fell backwards, kissing her nonstop. Her hands went to the zipper of his pants, searching in the low light.

“Mika!” Jean said. “Someone might come.”

“Yes, you will come, in my mouth,” Mikasa said as she searched inside his pants and released his dick. She gave his shaft a hard stroke; the light was too dim to see much, but she could feel it beginning to throb and harden in her hand. “Jean, let me make you feel good.”

Breathing heavily, Jean took a hold of her head and brought her lips back against his, and this time it was his tongue the one that was desperately playful. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes,” he moaned. “Yes, please, do anything you want.”

Mikasa smiled and straightened again, giving his dick another rub before tying her hair back in a ponytail. The sole action of her tying her hair made his dick twitch wildly, and it also made Jean groan from deep within his throat. She leaned forward, rubbing his shaft both hands. Jean was tall, and she guessed that played a part in how big he was, but it never failed to turn her own, feeling his girth in her hands.

She licked the base of his dick, then her tongue made the sweet journey across his shaft all the way to the head of his penis. There was precum there, and Mikasa licked it off his skin. Jean groaned, one of his hands was on her butt, underneath her dress and already looking for a way inside her panties, while his other was rubbing the top of her head.

He was holding back, she knew. He always held back when she gave him head; she understood he didn’t want to hurt her nor make her uncomfortable, and she loved that sweet side of him, but now she wanted something else to accompany that sweetness.

Mikasa parted her lips and took him into her mouth. The first time she’d given him head, she’d almost choked on his dick by the sheer size of it, but that had been a month ago. Now, she was used to the feeling of his cock against the back of her throat; her body had adjusted to that huge piece of meat he carried between his legs.

This time wasn’t the exception. Mikasa brought her head down, feeling her chin opening further to allow him deeper inside, and made a sucking motion as she came back up. Jean was breathing heavily now, and she knew, from the throbbing of his dick inside her mouth, that he would reach his orgasm soon.

She pulled out the dick out of her mouth and went to give his balls a lick. She put them whole inside her mouth, all the while rubbing him. Jean’s groans became faster, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she had his balls in her mouth or because the hand inside her panties had found her wetness.

“I’m going to cum soon,”

Mikasa let go of his balls and put his dick into her mouth again; she went down and up on it, one hand squeezing his shaft, the other squeezing his balls as she sucked on him. Jean’s free hand hovered over her head, but he withdrew it a second later.

She knew what he wanted to do, but she also knew he didn’t want to overdo it. Mikasa smiled, his dick inside her mouth still. He was so sweet.

She pulled out to look up at him now that their eyes had adjusted to the dark. Her hands didn’t stop rubbing him when she spoke; she didn’t stop teasing the tip of his dick with her fingers. “Go ahead, Kirstein, you know you want to do it.”

Jean looked at her with reddened cheeks, his eyes full of pleasure and longing. “I don’t want to make you sore,”

“I’m giving you permission,” she said, coming back up to his mouth to kiss him quickly. “You can do it. Please, do it.”

Mikasa went back to pay attention to his cock, and this time, when she opened her mouth and took him inside her, Jean grabbed a handful of her hair in both hands and brought her down all the way to the base of his dick. Mikasa moaned as he moved her head up and down in sweet, but passionate movements. One of her hands went under her shirt, to stimulate her already hard nipples. She crossed her legs, feeling a delicious throbbing between them. She wanted him so badly.

“I’m going to cum,” he groaned deeply. “Come up here, I need to cum. I’m gonna fill your mouth otherwise, Mika—”

Mikasa shook her head, and continued sucking on his cock. He didn’t take long to finish after that; hot liquid spread in her mouth and deep down her throat, the taste salty and familiar. She could feel her panties sticking to her skin now; less than ten minutes of giving him pleasure and she was already soaked.

When she straightened again, Jean held her face between his two large hands. He leaned forward and kissed her, uncaring about whatever remains of his bodily fluids lingered inside her mouth. She’d discovered he was naughty in that regard, and he never refused a kiss after she’d given him head. “Now, it’s your turn,” he whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Lie back, I’ll make you come all over my face,”

Mikasa shook her head, giving him a shy kiss on the cheek. “Not here,” she said, unlocking the doors.

Jean blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a spot not too far. Join me,” she said, giving him another quick peck on the cheek. Jean smiled, and she knew he’d never refuse her. He adored her, he adored her with every bit of his being. And Mikasa adored him right back.

_________________

She held his hand as they walked through the forest, walking with certainty, certain of where she was headed to. Jean followed her in silence; he was used to her little seances and moon rituals in the woods by now…he’d even grown to enjoy them, although he hadn’t enjoyed that one time in which that scary voice had spoken to him.

The clearing was forty-five minutes away from where they’d left the car, and it was a beautiful place by the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It had the shape of an almost perfect semi-circle, lined with tall willows and a small creek running on the westernmost part of it. “This is a new place,” he said, recalling most of their midnight seances were in the woods by her mother’s shop.

“I found it a while ago,” she dropped her bag in the middle of the clearing, where the moonlight illuminated the stretch of tall grass perfectly. Jean walked towards the creek; he loved it when she found little pockets of nature like this, but he also didn’t like picturing her walking that stretch of woods on her own. “I was with Armin and Eren, don’t worry. They came with me,”

Jean sighed; at first, it had only been him the one able to read her like a book. She’d learned this past year, however, how easy it was to guess his thoughts. “This is cute,” he said, pointing out at a series of mushrooms growing on the sides of the creek. “The colors are—”

Mikasa pulled him back by the arm, shaking her head. “Don’t touch anything,” she said in an urgent tone. “They will be angry.”

“Who will?”

“The forest spirits!” Mikasa whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unsure which forest god or spirit she was talking about. He looked over his shoulder, smiling awkwardly at nothing. “I’m sorry!”

She giggled, leading him to where she’d laid out a thick blanket and a series of pink and red candles. There was a bottle of wine and chocolates, and some preheated pizzas “What’s this?” Jean asked, giving her a kiss on the temple, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Is this a romantic dinner for me?”

Mikasa smiled up at him; she was tall, but the more time passed, the more Jean grew, and now he was a full ten centimeters taller. He knew she didn’t like that cocky part of him, but Jean had to admit he liked being taller than her. “Sit with me, please,”

They sat in the middle of the clearing, under the candlelight and the soft silver light coming from the full moon above. Jean ignored the food and went for her lips; the purple lipstick was properly smudged after giving him oral, and Jean wanted to take the rest off with kisses.

“Jean,” she said, pushing him away a minute later. “Look at me,”

“I am,” he said, cupping her face with a hand. “What is it?”

Mikasa took a deep breath and, in the dim light, he was able to see her cheeks were of a deep shade of pink. “Tonight, I want you to make love to me here.”

Jean’s mouth fell open in shock. They’d started doing things other than making out a month ago, mind you, and he’d supposed they would make love the moment they finished moving into their new apartment. This request was new, a surprise he had not seen coming.

He’d showered, he’d shaved, he’d put cologne on…because he thought they would spend most of the night at the sea festival, and he wanted to look good while out and about with the most beautiful woman in the island.

“A-are you sure?”

Mikasa looked up at the moon, then back at him. “It is a perfect night.”

“Is this some sort of ritual?” Jean asked, suddenly concerned. “Mikasa, if you’re doing this just because of what those books say, I don’t want you to force yourself to do something—”

She put a finger against his lips, squirming and pressing her legs together. Her dress had gone up to her upper thighs, and from there he could see the wetness coating her pretty pink panties. “I saw this place and knew this is where it had to happen,”

“What are you talking about?”

Mikasa went to her knees, putting her hands on his shoulders, straddling his thigh. The feel of her soft skin was enough to drive him insane with desire. “Our first time,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him as she pressed her wetness on his thigh.

Jean had to force himself to think clearly. “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of ritual?” he asked her; he had fun joining her in her expeditions into the woods, but he’d never made love to another person. He wanted his first time with her to be special, he didn’t want it to be just the preamble to one of her moonlight rituals.

She lowered her face. “It isn’t a ritual. I want to make love to you, Jean,” she said, and he could almost feel the heat in her cheeks. “But I don’t want my first time to be in just an apartment. I saw this place, and I knew I wanted you here.”

“Why’s that?”

Mikasa lowered her head a little more. “It’s romantic,”

“And?” Jean asked, sensing there was still something she wasn’t saying.

Mikasa closed her eyes, her voice becoming lower even. “It reminded me of that Twilight scene, when they’re in that meadow…”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest, but Jean forced himself to not react loudly; she’d just admitted something embarrassing, and he didn’t want her to think he was mocking her. He grabbed her face with one hand, then chuckled. “You are so cute,” he said, using his other hand to firmly hold her against his thigh. He moved her back and then forward, and the rubbing motion made her moan out loud. “Mikasa, I love you.”

She blushed at that. “I love you too,”

“I’ll make love to you anywhere you want,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “I just want to know if you’re sure. We can wait a little longer, you know? We can come back here when the moon’s full again. I can wait—”

She pressed her mouth against his, moving back and forth against his thigh, as if she were riding a horse. The wetness was leaking, dripping, he could feel it dripping onto the thin fabric of his pants. “I want you now,” she said, licking the corner of his mouth. Mikasa rubbed herself a little more on his thigh, and Jean didn’t even care about the wet stain she would leave in his pants. “I want you inside me now,”

Jean grabbed her by the waist with both hands now. “I want you too, Ackerman.”

He’d wanted her for so long, it almost seemed like a dream to be in her arms then. His younger self had only wanted to take her out for a bite to eat, that was that…think that she’d kissed him now, and she was asking for him to make love to her…Jean smiled widely as his hands searched her dress and lifted it over her head.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

“Holy fuck,” he said when he saw the lace bra she wore, which had intricate strappings that were tightly adjusted against her pale skin. The lace was transparent, and when Jean caught a sight of her pierced nipples, he almost came in his pants. “When…when did you get them pierced?”

Mikasa smiled; in the month they’d started doing naughty things, they hadn’t seen each other properly naked yet, and she was clearly amused by his reaction. “Just a little while ago.”

Jean ran a thumb over each nipple through the fabric of her bra, making her moan. “They look so fucking good,” he muttered, running his thumbs over the nipples again, loving the way they perked up and hardened. “Can I?”

She smiled at him. “It unclasps at the front.”

Thank god for that, Jean thought. It would be much easier to make sense of the straps that way. It was a sexy bra, there was no doubt, but Jean was a virgin still. He hadn’t mastered the art of unclasping bras.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, running his thumbs over her nipples, giving one of the little rings a pull, fascinated by her squeal. “Can I suck on these?”

Mikasa nodded, closing her eyes. She looked so beautiful, sitting naked on his thighs. Jean enveloped her pink nipple with his mouth and gave a little suck, feeling the taste of metal and sweat, fascinated by it. His girlfriend moaned, pressing her face against the top of his head, squirming even more on his thigh.

He sucked on it more, using his other thumb to stimulate the other nipple. “You’re perfect,” he whispered hotly as he moved from one breast to the other. “I could suck on these all night,”

Ah, he could. Her breasts were full and soft, and her nipples hard with the touch of his tongue. He wanted nothing other but to suck and lick them for hours and hours…but there was another spot that required attention, a spot he adored having on his mouth. Jean straightened and went to kiss her lips, teasing and squeezing her breasts and nipples the whole time.

“You’ve got purple lipstick all over your face,” she giggled, running her fingers across his mouth to wipe him. The purple was almost gone from her lips, but Jean didn’t care. She looked perfect with and without make up.

“You’ve got purple here, too,” Jean chuckled, giving her nipple another teasing, gentle pull. Indeed, he’d stained her pale breasts with some of the lipstick lingering on his mouth. “Lay back now,”

Mikasa climbed off his thigh and laid on the blanket, pretty and naked as the moon. Jean kneeled in front of her, running his long, lean fingers across her legs, caressing every bit of her body. She watched him with lust in her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, seductively.

He placed himself in front of her legs and parted them, revealing her soaked panties. He could see the outline of her slit from how wet she was, he could see her throbbing. His dick was hard in his pants, and all he wanted was to be inside her.

“You’re dripping,” he said, running a teasing finger alongside her slit. Mikasa shivered at his touch. “Can I take these off?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

Jean removed her panties painfully slow, enjoying the anticipation that grew in her face. She was so cute. “I’m going to make you cum now,” he informed her, parting her legs even more. “I’m going to lick you until you cum all over my face.”

“Jean,” she panted, closing her eyes. “Stop teasing me,”

He smiled wickedly, admiring the pretty color of her wet pussy. He gave it a tentative lick, running his tongue from bottom to the top of it, pressing the tip of his tongue on the pleasure bulge he’d touched in the dark before, when their kisses had turn into touching. Mikasa moaned loudly, and Jean was sure that they would need to get some sort of soundproofing for their apartment.

“You taste so good,” he moaned before burying his face in her wetness.

He’d learned to please her through trial and error the past month, but now he knew how she liked her clit played with, he knew what movements to do with his mouth to have that delicious juice of hers spill out of her pussy and onto his face.

Jean found the little bulge of pleasure and spat a little on it, then he enveloped it with his mouth and sucked. Mikasa drew in a breath, and a lovely moan escaped her throat. Jean sucked on it a little more, teasing the entrance of her pussy with his fingers as he gave her sweet nipples a tug and a squeeze.

He buried his face in his pussy, enjoying her taste, her scent, her sweet moans. Giving her oral was a feast of senses he would never tire of, and now they wouldn’t stop at just giving each other oral, or touching each other. Tonight, they would go all the way.

Jean moved his tongue with more intent, and introduced his index finger in her slit, just a little. She moaned louder; with his thumb, he made the same circular motions on her nipple as the one he was doing on her clit with his tongue. The juices were piling up on his face, and she was already dripping onto the blanket she’d laid out.

Jean straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Mikasa looked up at him, her eyes demanding, telling him to get back to what he was doing. He smiled at her, giving her nipple a little tug. “Just a second,”

He took off that ridiculous looking yellow vest his mother had forced him to wear (to cause a good impression to her parents) and then he unbuttoned his shirt, certain he would get soaked if she kept leaking the way he was. Then, he came to his feet, struggling slightly with his pants and underwear. As he did so, however, he saw her rubbing her clit as she watched him, while her other hand was busy tugging on her nipple the way he’d been doing it before.

Jean leaned forward again, moving her hand away from her pussy. “Let me do it, please,” he said in a hoarse whisper, burying his face again. “I love eating you out.”

His tongue flicked over her clit, and his finger went back inside her. He ate her out hungrily, like a man who had not drank a drop of water in years. He didn’t even know where his movements came from; he acted on instinct, guided only by her moans, and Jean liked to think he did it well. Mikasa grabbed him by the hair, lifting herself off the ground and moaning loudly.

When she came, Jean opened his mouth as much as he could to catch all the wetness. And once his thirst had been satiated, he used his tongue to clean the inner part of her thighs.

She was breathing heavily by the time he came back up to kiss her, and she welcomed his lips without any qualms or protests. “I’m ready,” she panted, her cheeks of a bright red, her nipples hard against the skin of his chest. “I’m ready now, Jean.”

“Wait, protection—”

“I’m taking pills,” she said, then pointed at her bag. “There are condoms in the bag.”

“Very resourceful,” Jean said, smiling flirtingly. She’d known what she wanted to do tonight, and he had had no idea. He loved it, but still, Jean wished he could have prepared mentally for it.

He leaned forward, kissing her while his hand massaged her clit, making her wet to take him inside. This was the girl he’d loved for so long; this was the woman he wanted to be with forever. When he said he wanted to marry her, some people said he was young and that the world was larger and had many more women out there waiting, but Jean didn’t care about other women.

This woman was the one he wanted, the one that filled his soul with warmth. He was young, but he was so, so in love, he didn’t want to imagine anyone that wasn’t her. He wanted to love her, spoil her, he wanted to please her as much as he could.

Jean stopped kissing her suddenly. As good as he’d gotten at giving her oral, he had no experience with actual sex. Heavens, he’d barely held on for five minutes when she had sucked him off in the car. She was wet, but he knew he was well endowed. What if it hurt her? What if it hurt her and he only managed to last a minute?

He would never be able to look at her face again.

“Jean,” she said in a low voice, cupping his face between two hands. “Do you want us to wait?”

“Wait?”

She gave him a shy smile. “You look scared,”

Jean smiled, exhaling as he neared her neck to kiss it. “I want to make you feel good.”

“I know. And you are.”

“What if I’m not good?” Jean said, looking at her in the eyes. “What if I only last a minute? Mikasa touch me, I’m about to burst—”

She lifted her head and kissed him, her hands finding his dick and giving it a long, hard rub. “I’m new at it too,” she said, massaging the nape of his neck.

“I want to make you feel good. I’m scared I won’t,”

Mikasa frowned for a second, then considered his words for a minute. “I don’t care,”

“Huh?”

“If the first time isn’t good, we can do it again,” she said, using her sweet hands to rub him more, bringing all the blood back to his cock. “And again…”

“And again,” Jean finished saying, smiling. Mikasa nodded, then ran her hands across his torso.

“I’m ready,”

“Alright,” he said, parting her beautiful legs. The moon shone down on her, almost making her pale skin glow under the silver light. Her face, her shoulders, her neck and ears, it was all red, and she was heaving in anticipation. Jean rubbed the head of his dick against her entrance, and more wetness came out of her slit, making delicious, lustful noises. Fuck, she was so hot. “Tell me if it hurts, please.”

Mikasa nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Jean kissed her mouth, then pushed inside.

_____________________-

She’d decided this would be the place in which they would make love weeks ago, on an expedition with Armin and Eren to find a good spot to watch the yearly meteor showers. Armin hadn’t liked it, since there were so too trees blocking the view and there was too much humidity that would put his telescopes at risk.

Mikasa had loved it, though.

And during the weeks leading up to the end of school, she’d dreamed about having him naked in the meadow. After reading about how the full moon increased sexual arousal, she’d determined that the festival night would be the perfect night to do it for the first time, before they left to live in the bigger city.

She hadn’t told Jean because she knew he would freak out the days leading up to it, and instead had decided to study her best to be prepared for the night. Yes, she had read books about first times, and she’d mentally prepared herself for the pain, for the awkwardness of it all.

So far, it had been perfect. But Jean had that beautiful, special talent to make her feel at ease and comfortable anywhere.

Jean went into her slow, his eyes locked on hers as he made his way inside her. Mikasa’s body opened to give way to him; there was a bit of a stinging that came with it, but it was nothing like she’d read in books.

In most romance books, the female lead always described losing her virginity as painful and uncomfortable, but there was nothing painful about Jean entering her. There was a bit of a discomfort and pressure at first, but it was soon overshadowed by the wetness, by his fingers rubbing her clit softly and slowly.

“You are perfect,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and then her lips. She heard her skin connecting to his, and knew that all of him was deep inside her.

“I love you,” Mikasa whispered, holding onto him with both arms.

“I love you too,” Jean replied with a smile, then kissed her again, his tongue rubbing hers. His mouth fell open.

“Can I start moving?” Jean asked, his mouth falling open, his breath erratic. She could feel him twitching inside, she could feel his girth spreading her open, adjusting her muscles to his size.

“Please,”

Jean thrusted into her slowly, pulling back and coming back down with his eyes on her, on the gentle swaying of her breasts. Soon, he pressed his mouth to hers, and then he went looking for her nipples. She had wanted to get them pierced for a while, and she’d done it as soon as she had had the chance and money. She hadn’t told Jean, however. She’d wanted it to be a surprise.

He sucked on her erect nipple, while his hand rubbed her clit with those circular motions she loved so much, and Mikasa cried out in pleasure. His cock was rubbing up against every nerve ending inside her and, sending waves of pleasure across her body.

She ran her hands over his back; he’d grown more muscular this past year, and she adored the feel of his hardened body underneath her fingertips. Her hands landed on his chest as he thrusted in and out of her, and Mikasa gave his nipples a little pinch, like the ones he’d been giving her tonight.

Jean groaned in pleasure and went faster, sending a bit more pain across her lower abdomen, which Mikasa ignored. She propped herself up on her elbows and caught one of his nipples in her mouth, sucking it the way he’d sucked hers.

“Fuck, Mikasa,” he said, and she looked up at him. Jean caught her mouth with his, and both of his hands went to cup her face. “I…need to cum…soon.”

His face was completely red, and when Mikasa squeezed his nipple once more, Jean rolled his eyes to the back of his head in pleasure. “Stop, please,”

“Why?” Mikasa moaned, kissing his neck. His thrusts were faster; she could tell he was still trying to be gentle with her, but he was failing at holding back.

“I’ll cum…I’ll finish too quick,” he grunted, reaching her neck to give kiss her.

“Why is it bad?”

“I haven’t even lasted ten minutes,” he said, grimacing. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer, she thought.

“We can try again,” Mikasa replied.

“But, I want to give you a good impression and—”

So, Mikasa leaned forward, burying her face in his neck, and gave his skin a long, gentle suck that didn’t help him at all in holding back.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and started going faster; this wasn’t love making anymore, he was fucking her now, fucking her fast, fucking her hard. Mikasa buried her fingernails in his back, then moved onto another spot in his neck to give it a little suck.

“You’re mine, Kirstein,” she said in a low voice, feeling all the pleasure accumulate inside her loins. Two of his fingers were still rubbing on her clit; but it was obvious he would reach his climax before her. “You’re mine, are you not?”

“I am,” he moaned, his voice a mixture of lust and love she’d become addicted to.

“Then, do what I say,” she whispered. He was fucking her so good, so, so good, but it was clear he wouldn’t withstand it for much longer. They were eighteen; they had their whole lifetimes to make love to each other. “You can cum now, Jean.”

Jean thrusted three more times before he released all his pleasure; he moaned low against her ear, and she felt his cock throbbing inside her as he came. When he became very still and his breathing steadier, Mikasa held onto him, running her hands across his hair, enjoying the feel of his half-hard shaft inside her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a while in silence. He lied on his back to stare at her, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment when he looked at the watch on his wrist. “Fucking hell, not even eight minutes? I’m a loser, I’m—”

Mikasa went to lie on his chest, hugging him. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Jean said, wrapping her body with his muscular arms. “Mika, if you don’t want to see me again, if you don’t—”

She perked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why would I not want to see you again?”

Jean flushed again. “I was a disappointment,”

“I had already come once,” she said, giving the corner of his mouth a little lick.

“Yeah, but you made me come twice,” Jean said, closing his eyes. “I’m a disappointment. So, it’s okay if you want to break up,”

“It’s not a competition, Jean. And you’re overthinking things again,” she said, lying on her side, running her fingers across his nipples. She noticed how her touch made the little hairs on his arms stand up and smiled a little more; she’d found a weak spot. “I don’t want to break up…”

Jean sighed, relieved. “I swear I’ll make it up to you,”

“…I want to get married,” Mikasa finished saying easily. His mouth fell open, but the way she rubbed his nipples was enough to make him struggle at keeping his focus. She smiled again; it was mean to tease him like this, but she loved her Jean flustered, and hard…and she could see his cock beginning to twitch and throb again.

“You want to what?”

“Get married, Kirstein,” she said, leaning into him to kiss his lips. Her hands went to take off the condom they’d used, and she gave his shaft another rub, uncaring about the semen spilling down her hand.

“You are so naughty,” Jean muttered, looking down at his cock at the same time as she did. He looked back at her, with an excited glint in his eyes. “Do you really wanna? Get married, I mean?”

Mikasa nodded, pressing the tip of her finger to the tip of dick, from which all the precum was leaking out of.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a whole year,” Jean laughed, and Mikasa smiled back at him. She knew; she’d seen him looking up for engagement rings online. He hadn’t been precisely discreet about his intentions of spending the rest of his life with her.

She adored that.

“I want to make love to you everyday.”

“We can do that no problem,” Jean said, kissing her temple.

“And I want to make babies with you,” she said, sitting up and straddling him. Jean’s hands went to her nipples again, and she guided one of his hands towards the wet spot between her legs. Now, he was properly hard. “We need to be married to make babies.”

“We-we’re so young, though,” Jean stammered, and Mikasa leaned forward to kiss him, arranging her hips so the tip of his cock was pressed against the entrance to her body.

“Not now, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a bunch of tiny kisses on his stubble. “Now, we’re going to practice until we get passed those eight minutes.”

Jean chuckled, and she was glad to know he was past the initial embarrassment. “We need to put a condom on, then,”

“I want you raw,” Mikasa kissed him, then lifted her hips to bring herself down onto him. There was a bit of a stinging that came with having him inside again, but Mikasa welcomed it gladly. She liked how big he was, she knew it would bring her more and more pleasure the more they made love.

“Mikasa!” he protested, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her off him. “Your dad is gonna kill me if you get pregnant…fuck, that feels good.”

She moved up and down, slowly, getting used to the feeling of riding him. “You’ll finish outside. We’ll get a pill,” she said, brushing his lovely light brown hair away from his face. “Right now, we’re going to practice.”

“How much practice will I get tonight?” Jean asked teasingly, making her smile.

“A lot,” she said, kissing his lips. “And then more tomorrow, and the next day, and so on.”

“You’re my dream girl,” he said, whimpering against her lips in both happiness and pleasure. “I want to marry your right now,”

“We already are for all I care,” Mikasa said, pressing her body against his and starting to jump, finding a rhythm at which she could ride him comfortably. He was just so big. She didn’t need any sort of papers to know this was the man she wanted, nobody else. She’d been confused for a while before, but now things were as clear as the naked moon in the sky. He was hers, and she was his. And absolutely nothing would change that fact.

#Jeankasa Smut Week #Jeankasa Smut #jean x mikasa #Jeankasa #First time #Jeankasa Smut Week 2021 #Jean Kirstein #ao3 #smut #fanfiction #JeanMika #Mikasa Ackerman #escritos

[fanmoose12]

Should do like random little blurbs called "having an Ackerman as a lover" chronicles or something starring levihan and jeankasa and dumb shenanigans where Levi and mikasa are hopelessly in love with their respective s/os while Jean and hanji learn that they should never leave their ackermans alone lmao. I just love this sm and would love to see more writings from you about this

"Hange-san?" Jean knocks on and then pocks his head inside the office. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," she smiles, laying down her quill. She takes off her glasses next and rubs her eyes. "What do you need?"

Jean sits down, folding hands on his lap. He fidgets with the cuffs on his shirt, unable to meet the gaze of his superior.

"Je-an," Hange softly calls, drawing the syllables of his name. "What's wrong?"

"It's Mikasa..." he manages finally. "She's caught a cold..."

"Oh."

"And she refuses to let me help."

"Oh," the short sound is filled with so much understanding and sympathy. "That's bad. But don't worry, I know what to do."

"You do?" Jean repeats hopefully.

"Of course, I do," Hange huffs with pride. "I've been dealing with an Ackerman who hates showing his weakness for a very long time. There is no one else inside the walls who knows as much about it as I do. C'mon, let's get down to the mess hall, you'll make me tea and I'll share my secrets."

"Thank you!" Jean exhales in relief and then grants Hange with a smile. "I knew you'd help me out!"

***

"Oi." Levi approaches the girl with his signature annoyed expression. With hands crossed on his chest, he glares at Mikasa, who stubbornly continues doing push-ups, even though she's shivering worse than a leaf on a wind. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Mikasa grits through her teeth, not sparring Levi with so much as a glance.

Her voice sounds weird, husky and croaky. It's most definitely caused by a runny nose and Levi scoffs, his annoyance increasing.

"You're very obviously not," he scolds. "Stop being a brat and go to infirmary. Or to your quarters, I'm sure Kirshtein is already waiting for you with blanket and a plate of chicken broth."

"I don't need his help," Mikasa argues in between pants. She sits down, wrapping arms around her knees and pulling the scarf closer to her face. Despite the glare on her face, she's still shivering and her nose is red. Levi fills something close to pity, Mikasa looks absolutely miserable.

He sighs. He joined survey corps to fight for humanity, not deal with bratty youth. He sits next to Mikasa on the floor.

"Kirshtein might be an idiot," he says gruffly. "But he means well. And you're just a human, it's okay to want some comfort from time to time. Just let him help, you'll feel so much better."

He said enough, Levi thinks, so he gets to his feet. Before he can leave, Mikasa grabs him by the sleeve. Levi looks down at her - she's worrying a lip between her teeth, staring into the distance.

"Are you talking from experience?" she asks softly.

"I do," Levi easily replies. At any other day, he would have reprimanded Mikasa for asking personal questions. He would have scoffed and refused to answer. Today, though, he makes an exception. It seems like she really needs it. "So stop moping around and get going. I'm letting you rest for a few days. So use this time wisely and do your best to get back on your feet."

"You're giving me a day-off?" Mikasa gawks at him. "But what would Commander Hange say? What if she needs my help?"

"Please," Levi scoffs. "I'm sure that boyfriend of yours has already told her about your condition. They've probably came up with some plan to make you rest. Save some trouble for Hange and let Jean take care of you."

The notes of concern appear in his voice, as he mentions his lover and Mikasa smiles a bit at that. Levi as irritating and insufferable as he is, has some redeeming qualities. His love and care for Hange is one of the biggest ones.

"Fine, I'll go to bed," Mikasa finally agrees.

"Get better," Levi wishes with a rare softness in his voice, and then leaves the room.

***

"Another one?" Jean asks, lifting a spoon with hot broth.

Mikasa nods and opens her mouth, letting Jean feed her. She feels like an idiot, but Levi was right. It's nice when someone cares about you. She could easily get used to it. Of course, she has to be careful, so as not turn into a pathetic softie like her relative did, but she'll be more open to Jean's care, especially after seeing a smile that curls on his lips every time she lets him help.

#i remembered that ask about jean being a good boy and then stumbled upon this ask #very random indeed :) #jeankasa #levihan

[smallblip]

So lonely trying to be yours

Jeankasa | rated for sex (well, halfway there at least)

Happens somewhere between Mouth open you’re high and Come down when you’re ready. (aka the coming undone after Eren tells Mikasa he hates her)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/30253896

Hate is a strong word. Mikasa hates sun showers, she hates the mugginess of it. Mikasa hates celery. She hates how their new gear is so unseasoned it cuts into skin.

And as she stands in the middle of Jean’s room, she figures she hates herself too.

But hate is a strong word and she wants nothing more than to be seen.

Nothing more than to pick at the blisters on her skin, where she had been scalded by the person she loves the most in this world. But she finds other ways to salve the itch.

“Mikasa what-“

But before Jean can continue, she’s shrugging off her jacket and her trousers. Painfully slow, painfully deliberate. Like she’s putting on a show. She had seen the girls do this from the balconies in the unspoken parts of town, waving their handkerchiefs at the soldiers who pass below. A flash of a breast here, the exposing of a thigh. The softest of flesh hidden beneath exquisite dresses.

Sometimes they wave at her too, casting a spell on her, come soldier, you can rest here, tell us all your secrets, and we’ll teach you all we know of pleasure. And Mikasa always averts her gaze, tucks her chin in her scarf, a blush creeping at the tips of her ears.

Mikasa thinks maybe this is the way to be seen. This is the way to be beautiful. And oh she would give anything to be seen.

She unbuttons her shirt, watching as Jean stares at her, completely bewitched. And she almost feels guilty that she has this effect on him. That she has this power over him only a woman could wield- only a lover could wield. But it’s only a ghost of a thought. She pulls at her scarf and it pools around her, red like amaryllises blooming at her feet. An ode to the blood she has spilled for the people she has come to love. Her fingers skim down her neck and she’s picking at the bindings around her chest, unravelling them until it’s easier to breathe again. A flash of a breast, then another. Painfully slow, not once breaking gaze from Jean in case she loses him. In case he walks by her balcony into the arms of another girl. Another girl to tell his secrets to, to enjoy one night on this wretched earth with. But he’s watching her, mouth slightly agape, still trying to find the right words to say, and Mikasa wants him to kiss her until she forgets her own name. She steps out of her underwear.

“Mikasa what-“

“I want you to look at me Jean...” She says, more of a whisper than a command. She fights against the instinct to cover up. But she thinks she can at least pass as soft under the forgiving glow of candlelight, and she needs to be seen- as a woman, a beautiful little thing, a lover. Oh to be seen, to be something to behold, to exist.

And Jean looks at her, perplexed, he approaches her slowly, not quite sure what to make of this situation. He wants to know how she had been hurt. But all he can do is to take all the sadness Mikasa has and swallow it until it rests heavy in his stomach. Until they are but two bodies with no secrets between them.

“I’ve always...” Jean starts, but he has to avert his gaze. Something like annoyance bubbles in his chest. How can she not know this. Did she not notice. All this time. But he decides to put it in words, clear as day-

“I’ve always... Looked at you...” he breathes, closing the distance between them. Oh to be told you matter amongst the other grand things in this world that matter. To be told it has always been this way. The boy who has always had eyes for this one girl. The handsome soldier who stops by her balcony, sure as the sun, he looks only to her. I’m here, I exist. Mikasa feels a lump forming in her throat.

Words can wait, she thinks, come now soldier, we’ll drain the pleasure from one another until we are but two bodies with too many secrets between us.

And she kisses him.

Sharp edges, sadness leaking from her like rain. Like kindling in fire, one thing leads to another, and Jean is pressed against the wall. Mikasa is strong, but it’s not like Jean’s going anywhere. His hands glide up the sides of her body, over to her back where he rubs circles into her skin. Too gentle. Her sweet, gentle boy. But all she wants is for him to ruin her. To dig his nails into her flesh, to leave bruises for everyone to see. She hears the things said about her, little voices carried by the wind. Greedy, gluttonous girl. She’s fucking with him even though she doesn’t love him. Whore. Harlot. And the poor fool who trails after her.

And Mikasa wants to scream at the voices. It’s not true. Love comes in a form she doesn’t yet have the capacity to comprehend. Oh but she loves him.

Part of her wants him to tell her sweet nothings like he always does. To tell her she’s worthy, that she exists purely because he sees her, because he wants her. But the thought sits like bile burning at the back of her throat. She wants to throw up. Because she knows she doesn’t deserve him. So she lets the other part of her reign. The part that wants him to hurt her, call her names, echo the voices in her head, tell her she’s nothing. That he’s always, well- that he has always-

hated her.

She wants to bask in this feeling a little longer, a creature living in the depths of the woods, in a hollowed out tree, feeding off hate until her softness becomes amber. She grabs his hand and slides his fingers through her hair. Pull. And he does, he tugs at her hair, but only to pull her impossibly closer. She feels between his legs, engorged under his trousers. Jean groans into the kiss. And Mikasa swallows it up selfishly. She unbuckles his trousers only to get at what she wants, and then she’s kneeling in front of him, taking him into her mouth. And this is what good girls do. This is what she’s been doing all her life. To be on her knees, to take it, take everything into her until she’s bursting at the seams. But what’s wrong with a life of servitude, of being on her knees when Jean is making the most delicious sounds, saying her name in a way that ignites something in her like kindling.

He pulls her up into another kiss, leaning down so he can lick the roof of her mouth clean, and Jean tastes himself on her tongue, salt of the earth; sweet like roses.

“You’re so good for me...” Jean says. And Mikasa is nodding furiously. That’s all she wants. That’s all she ever wants to be. And she doesn’t notice the tears until he flinches.

“Mikasa... Hey... Stop...” he says, holding her by her shoulders.  

Her eyes fly open. And in that split second, her mind thinks up the cruelest things against her- look what you’ve done.

He buttons up his trousers and she stumbles back. The spell she had cast over him has been broken, she thinks. But Jean follows after her, a wait slipping past his lips. And she does, waiting with baited breath. He’s stroking at her cheek again, catching the tears that are falling. Thumbs stroking gently at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey... What’s wrong...” he asks, like he’s comforting a child, but he isn’t really expecting any answers. And the tears pick up a steady flow, down to her chin. She wipes at her face with the back of her hands. She hates this. More than celery in her stew, more than humidity. She hates herself for being so weak.

He reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch. What a gentle brush of calloused fingers against her cheek. Her sweet, gentle boy. 

Hers.

He tilts her chin up so she meets his gaze, wait, it comes more as a whisper than a command. She watches him curiously as he fishes through his cupboard. He retrieves a grey shirt. She spots her embroidery in white thread at the hem. His name in cursive so Connie would stop taking his laundry by accident.

“Here...” he smiles. Jean holds the shirt out in front of her expectantly, and past her own confusion, Mikasa puts one tentative arm through the sleeves, then another. He shifts her to face him again and he does her buttons up painfully slow. Her sweet gentle boy. And Mikasa hears the loud thudding of her own heart by her ears, and there’s that familiar aching. This moment is suddenly far too intimate to bear. She feels the tips of her ears burning.

His shirt falls mid-way down her thighs, and she feels small again as he stands back to examine his work. “There you are...” he says. And his heart flips unceremoniously, seeing her in his clothes, casual like it’s the morning after and she has stayed the night, and they’ve spoken about everything there is to speak about. The clouds, the rain, the new gear that cuts into skin like a bitch.

He guides her to the bed wordlessly, patting the spot beside him to get her to lie down. And she does, hands clasped atop her belly, looking at him, still sniffling and slightly taken aback. Jean sighs with a chuckle, “c‘mere...” he says, like all the problems in the world are but specks of dust floating in the darkness. And she does as she’s told, arms wrapped around herself as she curls her knees into her chest, pressing her forehead against his chest so he wouldn’t see her miserable face.

“Jean...” Mikasa says, voice intentionally muffled down the front of his shirt, where her fingers have now come to grasp. He hums a reply, toeing at her shin in an attempt to get her to tangle her legs with his.

She sighs, stretching out her legs to join him in this little dance. “Do you hate me?”

“I could never...” he says quickly. And Jean has always been like this. Eager to please, eager to reassure. And although he has mellowed over the years, Mikasa still sees glimmers of it. Then a more thoughtful, “did he say that to you?”

She only buries her face further into his chest, fingers digging into his shirt, the fabric balled up in her fists.

“I should’ve been there... Would’ve fucking had a go at him...” Jean mutters. His hands clenching into fists against her hip. He relaxes immediately when he feels her tensing underneath him.

“I’m sorry...”

“What about?” He tilts her chin up so her eyes meet his. Even now she finds other things to look at. Specks of dust. Cracks in the walls.

You... she wants to say, my poor, gentle boy, my poor sweet boy.

“I’ve been so selfish...”

There’s a thumb on her cheek. So gentle it feels like rain. Mikasa hates herself, but she figures there’s a quiet beauty in sun showers. The promise of rainbows. He traces over her scar, the one that never quite went away. The one she finds Jean kissing every now and then. The one she has never admitted to caring about.

And she wants to hear it from him. That he thinks she’s the most selfish person to exist. For greed, for gluttony, for wanting too many things- the boy she has given her life to, and the boy she doesn’t dare dream of a life with.

But they’ve had too many conversations about him, and Jean just wants her now. He’s just a soldier who has wandered too far into the powdered boudoir of his dream girl. She had waved at him with a handkerchief embroidered with little red flowers, and a smile so sad it makes him ache. The girl who holds his head in her chest after every battle, threading her fingers through his hair and telling him everything is going to be fine. The sun is going to peek through the rain clouds soon, everything will be fine. The girl who looks to him for assurance. The girl he looks to for that spark of confidence. The girl who embroiders little red flowers on the cuffs of his shirts. The girl who reaches her hands out so tentatively into the world, eyes full of wonder, fingers grasping apprehensively. But she’s always so sad, this girl of his.

So he holds her head against his chest now, “everything will be fine...” he whispers. And he feels the tension leave her body in waves.

“Sleep... You must be exhausted...”

“I can’t...” she pouts and Jean can’t help the chuckle that slips past his lips.

“What do you mean?” He teases, “look. You close your eyes, even out your breathing, think of one thing that makes you happy, and Bob’s your uncle!”

Mikasa ponders this for a moment, brows creasing, she looks up at him.

“I never really knew my uncle but I think my father had a brother named Thomas...”

“Ah...” Jean laughs, nothing condescending. Just- laughter, “that’s just a figure of speech... It’s like ‘and there you have it!’... Something along those lines...”

“Oh!” Mikasa answers, bashful, “like the dogs with the leather shoes? The cobbled shoes?” They play footsie under the sheets mindlessly and somewhere along the way, they’ve started holding hands.

“Yeah... ‘Enough to cobble dogs with’...” Jean chuckles.

“Sorry... I’m not good at these things...”

“Don’t worry about it... It’s not something to be good at... I just know because an uncle of mine loved using them, it was his thing...”

There’s a glint of playfulness in Mikasa’s eyes, a flash as quick as lightning, “your uncle Bob?”

Jean’s eyes widen momentarily, a spark of realisation setting off a boisterous laughter that fills the room.

“Silly...” Jean breathes. He taps the tip of Mikasa’s nose with a finger and she finds herself giggling. What a strange sound it is, weaving in and out of the laughter that’s still spilling from Jean’s chest. And she feels pride swelling in her ribs. She’s the cause of this cacophony.

It’s quiet for a while before Jean breaks the silence-

“Hey...” he says, absentmindedly, gently, “none of this is your fault... You know him... He’s just a dumbass... He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying...”

Jean sighs. Good no more arguing. No more him being a jerk telling her that they’re not all willing to die because of him. No more teetering on the brink of calling one another ugly names. No more shouting. Just-

Two bodies with a shared understanding between them. A single atmosphere built from years of friction. The air is good here.

Mikasa shifts herself onto the pillow to face him, she offers a smile, one that reaches her eyes. She threads her fingers through his hair like he’s the one in need of comfort. She will ask him in the morning if she can braid it for him. He wraps his arms around her protectively.

“You know... I kind of miss him... The way things were...” Jean chuckles. He wouldn’t mind Eren throwing a few punches his way if it meant they could be children again, fighting over nothing, getting at each other’s throats just because. Watching in awe as his own jealousy rears it’s ugly head.

“Me too...” she smiles, thinking of the times she has had to pry one angry boy from another.

But the air is good here and sleep comes easier.

Mikasa closes her eyes and evens her breathing to the steady thrum of Jean’s heartbeat. And she thinks about Jean- a sliver sunshine through the thick mist of rain. Her sweet, gentle boy.

Hers.

#jeankasa #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #jeankasa fanfic #jean kirschtein #mine #my fic #jean x mikasa

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Crepes

Warnings: none

Tags: fluff, family au, soft daddy Levi

Pairings: Levi Ackerman/ Reader, Implied Jeankasa

Summary: Levi's very energetic chaotic kids like to play with Jean and Eren from time to time

~This was requested by @clara-geekhime

"Daddy! What are you doing there?"

"I want a piggy ride!"

The piercing little screams of the jumping toddlers made Levi's head throb in utter pain. A buzzing numbness overtakes his whole being as the tries to flip the thin crepe successfully inside the hot pan. He has assigned himself to make dinner for tonight, while you're out, strolling the nearby mall with Mikasa in search of baby products for her unborn growing little human being.

With a huff that blows some dark strands away from his eyes he relaxes his tense shoulders for no more than a moment. His eyes wander back and forth in despairate need not to burn the crepe -he'd be damned of he has to make more- and all around the bright lit kitchen, where his children are currently stomping. He relaxes at the image of two of them that are patiently waiting with their tiny hands on the table, silently blowing air on each other in an attempt to play without disturbing him. And he definitely wishes the other two were as calm as them.

But of course, Kuchel and Kurt are restless. They never stop wrestling or poking their siblings sides and cheeks, screaming obnoxiously loud and jumping from tile to tile, avoiding any line successfully.

"Where's mom I want to poo." John is batting his (e/c) eyes in his in the most respectful manner a four year old could ever master, making Levi almost let out a full blown laughter.

"Can you wait for me to finish cooking or should we go to the potty now?" Levi speaks in the sweetest voice possible while looking directly at his son. The abstractly sweet voice that exits the shy boy's mouth in confirmation to his latter statement drives Levi to turn off the stove and pull the two frying pans away from any remaining heat.

"Let's go kids."

An horde of dark haired sweethearts follow his lead with tiny steps down the hallway. Soft round features are adorned with beautiful expressionisms of admiration as they stare at their father. Excited, barely noticeable movements are made that emit shuffling sounds around the room while Levi sets the white colored potty down the tile floor of the bathroom and he can't help but chuckle. It always gets to him how these little people who have came out as a product of his love with you are able to look at him with such admiration and adoration in their young eyes.

Levi sits with his back against the closed bathroom door as he waits for John to finish with his session, watching as the three other kids plan on their next malicious way to convince you and him to buy them the toys they want. It makes him want to burst into loud obnoxious laughter, the fact that they remain unbeknownst to his ability to hear them.

"You can always ask." He admits, allowing some of the laughter that has bubbled in his chest to escape. "Mom and I would be really happy to buy any toy you want as long as you are nicely behaved."

In a movement he falls down on his knees to trap Kuchel into his embrace. The little girl cooes at the sudden feeling, quick to give in to her father's affectionate side. While her feathery cheek rubs against Levi's, much like a small kitten that purrs to the touch, Levi extends his arms to ruffle his sons' hair. These casual moments of affection and happiness are really shaping him into the world's most tender person that exists.

Once he has returned to the kitchen to finish his cooking the four little Ackermans decide to all sit on the kitchen table and watch him cook their favorite crepe fillings. He manages to take their orders, very seriously, with the occasional furrow of the brow when they speak, allowing them to play along this little game of restaurant he has just started. If the kids are occupied then he'll be fine cooking.

"Daddy, didn't you say your mommy never came back one day?" John requires, eyes almost watering as he looks up. And Levi almost drops the wooden cooking spoon to the floor upon the shock he receives.

"Mommy is not coming back?"

"What? Why is mommy never coming back?"

Once Kuchel beggins with her siren like crying, John follows in turn and Levi starts panicking. Chaos ensues to its extreme as the kids start jumping on their seats, panicking, screaming at eachother not letting him finish the potatoes he's currently frying.

"Brats, how is it you miss your mother when she's not home, every single time?"

His question goes answered and he's forced to close the stove once again as he tends to pick up each small kid in his lap, sitting them down in hopes of concentrating them in a single place. And just as he does the door bell rings, sending the kids to another wave of over expresed enthusiasm.

As he runs to the door, apron still on and hair messier than he'd ever choose to present himself with, the four little kids run after him, impatiently standing behind him at the door frame. Levi looks through the peephole and with a quick love he unlocks the door to reveal Jean and Eren to his toddlers, who jump once again in delight.

"Eren! Jean!" Their thin voices say in unison when they practically fall into the men's feet.

"Hey Levi, hey you guys! Aunty Mikasa and mommy are on their way."

Levi demands that the two males wash their hands and faces before they even think about touching his children, and both of them comply with no objections. They know him, one wrong hygiene move and he'll release the cleaning freak from the depths of his existence so for the sake of their own sanity they waste no time as they go to the bathroom.

Soon enough they are sat down the coffee table in the living room, or occasionally running around each kid, lifting them up in their arms and throwing them into the air. He takes a mental note on how those boys have grown into men for all the time he's known them, with sleek defined jaws and strong arms, harsh, bored eyes that didn't resemble the ones they used to have when they were younger. And to top everything off, Jean was becoming a new father, who needed Levi's help with anything he could, not that Levi was sure why he was indeed everyone's father figure.

Levi now shifts his attention to Kuchel who's brushing some shaggy hair away from her tiny face as she's walking towards him with wobbly steps. His chest wells up from unbearable happiness, legs working without his command to meet his daughter halfway and swoon her in his arms as if she weights as much as a feather. Her giggles can ring through everyone's ears, perfectly in sync with her brothers' screams of joy at the pirate roleplay game jeans and Eren are occupying them with. It's moments like these when he feels as if he should never have had a doubt for his abilities as a parent. His own luck of paternal figures haven't stripped him off of them, but if it weren't for you to assure him it'd be alright he wouldn't have warmed up on the idea, just yet, that he's the most amazing father that exists.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi attack on titan #levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #jeankasa #daddy levi #father levi #parents au #snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader

[smolbean12]

Mending A Broken Heart

Jean Kirstein x Mikasa Ackerman

Genre: Angst and fluff

Warnings: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS!! prolly a few curse words

this is for my fellow jeankasa shippers. idc if the ship was not made canon but to me they fell in love got married and lived happily ever after. and i also wanted to see mikasa move on and not just stuck on eren you know? anyways hope you like this!!! :D

Jean checked himself in the mirror for the nth time. He searched for any hair out of place, looked for boogers, checked if he had anything stuck between his teeth and made sure his breath didn't stink. He had to make a good first impression. Well, technically, not a first impression but... whatever.

"Yo Horseface! How long are you gonna take?" Connie yelled.

"Coming!" Jean answered.

He was both excited and nervous. He was going to see Mikasa after 3 long years. He wondered what she looked like, she was in her early twenties after all. She's gonna be beautiful as ever, Jean thought.

He checked himself in the mirror one last time and jogged to where his friends were waiting for him.

Armin smiled and waved at him, sweet as ever. Reiner and Annie nodded at him.

"Took you forever. What, are you getting ready for your marriage?" Connie punched Jean, to which Jean kicked him in the shin.

"Come on, let's go. Don't want to keep Mikasa waiting now, do we?" Jean grinned.

"Yeah, let's go!" Armin agreed.

Mikasa stared at the sky. It was cloudless and a bright blue. Her hand rested atop the small headstone next to her. She can't be mourning forever, she knew that. She had loved Eren since she was nine-she probably still does, she's not sure. Letting the man, who taught her to live, go was no easy task.

Her hand went up to her scarf. Eren's scarf. He'd told her to put it away and forget about him. Find someone else who would love her and move on. He'd said it like it was as easy as getting a new dress after the old one tore. Mikasa couldn't move on. She didn't know how to move on.

"Eren," she called out, hoping against hope he could hear her. "How can I forget you?"

The walk up the hill where Eren was buried was quiet. The air felt thick with emotions and Jean almost considered going back. Eren was your friend, dumbass, he reminded himself and kept walking. He would never admit it but he missed Eren dearly. That suicidal blockhead was one of his closest friends and though they argued all day everyday, Jean would readily give up his life for him and Eren would do the same for Jean.

Jean spotted Mikasa sitting next to a small stone staring at the sky. Jean's heart did a somersault when he took in her features. She had become more beautiful, as if she wasn't already. She had let her hair grow and it reached past her shoulders.

Instantly, he was reminded of the day he had complimented her hair. But, she had cut it short not long after on Eren's word.

"Mikasa!" Armin yelled with joy.

Mikasa looked down to see Armin and smiled. "Armin. Everyone. How are you?"

They sat round the tree and talked about the past three years, filling Mikasa in on everything she had missed. Mikasa smiled and nodded. She seemed to be looking at everyone, mentally noting the changes in their appearance and personality.

Jean realized he was staring at her when their eyes met. He blushed and gave her a wobbly smile. Man up Jean, he told himself. Go talk to her.

He stood up from his place and walked over to where Mikasa was seated. He hesitated for second before sitting beside her. What was he supposed to say to his crush of almost a decade who lost the man she loved?

Before he could think anything he blurted out: "I'm sorry."

The talking came to an abrupt stop and everyone stared at him. Mikasa blinked. "About what?" She asked, clearly confused.

Jean, at that moment, realized that he brought up a topic everyone was avoiding. He mentally cursed at himself. Since he had already messed up, he decided to continue with it and mess up his already messed up life.

"About Eren," he answered.

Mikasa opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She tugged at her scarf quietly. After what felt like forever she said, "I'm trying to forget him. I'm trying to move on."

Jean was taken aback. "Mikasa," he started. "You don't have to forget someone to move on."

She stared at him like he had told her the sky was green. But he continued.

"I know it's hard, after all you've known Eren for most of your life. It's okay to feel sad, you know. Take your time. But, don't push yourself away from others. It'll just make the pain worse. And-And I lost Marco and Sasha, too. I've moved on, see? And I didn't forget them."

Mikasa's eyes were wide. She looked down at her hands. "I know, I know. It's just that everyone was telling me to just forget. It's been three years and I-I couldn't-"

She broke off. Jean noticed her hands were shaking. He took her hands in his and gave a reassuring squeeze. He tried his best to ignore the way his heart was beating out of his chest.

"Mikasa," Armin said, his voice was soft and caring. "Jean is right. We'll be with you from now on. So, you won't have be alone anymore." Armin flashed her his brightest smile.

"I'll be with you. We'll be with you," Jean said.

Mikasa looked down again. "Thank you. All of you."

Jean's hands felt wet and he realized that Mikasa was crying. Daringly, he put his arm around her shoulder and brought her close to him. He looked up only to see Armin, Connie and Reiner smirking at him. His face felt hot as he sent them all a glare.

Jean gave Mikasa his whole heart. Mikasa gave him the shattered remains of hers. Jean would damn well help her piece it back together. It wouldn't be the same as before, he knew that. But, who cares. He knew she would love him with all she has.

The first step towards the future Jean imagined was by mending a broken heart.

I won't forget you Eren. Mikasa looked up at the sky. But I think I found someone who will love me.

Work by: @smolbean12

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

#aot manga #snk mikasa #mikasa ackerman #eren jaeger #eremika #jean kirstein #jeankasa #connie springer #annie leonhart #armin arlert #snk spoilers #hope this is good! #im gonna go cry now #brewed by: ann #angst brew #fluff brew

[helena-thessaloniki]

Command suits him.

Short snippet taking place in the hour before they infiltrate Liberio. Inspired by Mikasa absolutely kicking ass against the War Hammer Titan while the others sat back and idly watched in confidence. Jeankasa!

Rivamika followers, please forgive me ahah 

Command suits him. Mikasa watches more than she listens, unsurprised that the others devote their undivided attention and ask their questions without concern. They trust him, even those who have never fought beside him, and she doesn’t fault them for it. It’s the thoughtful but placid manner he strokes his short beard over his jawbone. How he maintains eye-contact and doesn’t blink when addressing risks or potential for casualties. And despite height that demands presence, there’s an easy-going roll about his broad shoulders.

No, it’s not just the all-black infiltration garb. The days of him flustering over horse-face insults have passed.

Jean used to be willfully arrogant. She thinks that he probably still is, but not like when they were cadets. What used to be adolescent selfishness, a short temper and sharp tongue, has matured to more of a keen awareness. His conviction is grief-shadowed. What is worth knowing has been learned through loss; there’s an undercurrent of humility in his confidence now.

“Wait a minute,” someone says sharply, and for the first time it’s an interruption that invokes actual disagreement.

“What is it, Lobov?” Jean is unbothered at the outcry and waits patiently for the critique.

It’s a good thing she started to pay attention. Lobov not only turns toward her and looks directly at her, but he also lifts a hand to hesitantly gesture at her. The entire squad follows his line of vision.

“You’re saying the plan is to basically sit back on the rooftops and watch while Mikasa single-handedly takes on the War Hammer Titan?”

Mikasa remains impassive. The question wasn’t directed to her.

“Not single-handedly,” Jean answers, focusing on Lobov until the previous Garrison soldier turns back to him. “Eren will be with her.”

“But you said she’s only to intervene if Eren shifts and if his titan loses,” Lobov adds earnestly.

Jean’s laugh is short and dull. “No. I said if Eren’s titan appears like he’s losing. Eren starts to lose all the time. But he doesn’t lose.”  

A few feet over to her left, Connie snorts and Sasha shoves him half-heartedly.

For the first time Jean turns toward Mikasa, no less steadied than the moment before. “But if he transforms too many times or is otherwise incapacitated, Mikasa will be able to protect him and take down the War Hammer on her own. Our job is to focus on the lights for evacuation and to stall their reinforcements.”

Mikasa simply blinks at him. There’s a reluctant hint of admiration when he speaks about Eren, but he’s nothing if not neutral when referring to her capabilities. She should appreciate the vote of confidence from command, but she is too busy wondering about the underlying sentiment of a comrade and friend. If Jean has personal thoughts on the matter, he guards them well enough in front of a crowd.  

There’s shifting glances and a general fracture in the atmosphere that leans toward uncertainty for the first time. Mikasa feels more duty-bound to support Jean’s first mission in command than to actually provide comforting words to worrying comrades.

“Thank you, Lobov,” she says, a kind but firm dismissal. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have enough thunderspears to destroy its nape three times over.”

Jean’s steadfast gaze lingers on her for one second, and then another. Though he’s less wild-mannered and expressive than their younger days, Mikasa can at least read this well enough. The concern he carries for her can’t be sorted out in strategy sessions. Jean belatedly turns back to Lobov and the other soldiers.

“Not to mention we have the surprise advantage, and the War Hammer Titan has no experience with defending attacks coming from vertical maneuvering equipment,” Jean adds. “But our squad and Captain Levi will be near if things turn too far south.”

“Alright sir,” Lobov nods enthusiastically, and then turns to flash Mikasa something of an excitable smile. “Will be pretty cool to see the girl worth one-hundred soldiers in action, too.”

She could go without the additional attention. Mikasa nods in acknowledgment and returns her sight to Jean, hoping the rest of them fix their focus back onto him too. He’s good for that too, she thinks. Like the pull from magnetic force, it’s so easy to watch him, to listen to him.

After a final review, Jean dismisses them with instructions to gather all their gear and a reminder that they’re roughly 1-hour out from Liberio. Mikasa watches them shuffle out of the cramped room, but she remains propped against the opposing wall. Connie offers her an eager grin in departure and Sasha passes a hand over her shoulder.

Jean doesn’t leave yet either.

Once it’s only the two of them, he takes a seat at the table previously occupied by the others. She supposes he’s forfeiting the role of command by doing so, but he was the same Jean then as he is now. Mikasa steps forward and decides on the seat across from him.

“Think I’m doing alright?” He asks, sparing her a wary glance.

She looks at him for a moment. There’s calculative concern in his gold-flecked brown irises, but not fear. Jean’s not unconfident with his plans. He’s just aware of the inevitability of casualties and his inability to prevent them.

He’s far more selfless than her. Mikasa considers the list of whom she cares will return home and it’s far shorter than the one Jean must count in his head.  

“More than alright,” she answers evenly.

His breathy exhale suggests he’s mildly surprised, if not grateful, for the sentiment.

“Kind of ironic the one point of contention was fear for your safety,” Jean says, a weak grin of amusement.

“I’m strong enough,” Mikasa says, shaking her head once.

“Oh, I know,” Jean agrees, relaxing his shoulders into the back of his chair. “But still, be careful out there. We don’t—...”

He studies her for another second, deliberating on whether or not to speak further. Mikasa waits, knowing he will. If it’s in relation to worrying for her, he always does.

“We don’t know everything that’s going on with Eren. We can’t really predict what he will or won’t do.”

Mikasa is well aware of that. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say it’s all she’s been able to think about. There’s too much to say, and nothing to say at all, so she settles both hands into her lap and stares over his shoulder. No longer surrounded by strangers, her hardened mask starts to slip off its ordinarily well-hung frame. 

She bites her bottom lip, certain fear is exactly what Jean observes in her own lavender-dusted irises.

There’s fear for Eren. That’s ordinary, that’s familiar. But there’s also fear over what Eren might be capable of, which is not entirely new but decidedly worse. There are endless lengths she would go to protect his life. Her stomach turns to lead at the thought of what lengths she’ll have to go to protect his choices, though.

“Are you worried?” Jean asks, quieter than before, almost gentle in manner as he leans forward.  

Gentleness from Jean is something she’s only recently started to notice. He’s always cared for her, perhaps more than he should have, but back then it was too loud. He was a stranger, he was not on the short list she kept, and any overt sign of affection was unwanted. It felt abrasive.

Now though, his affections are quieter yet somehow more pronounced. Maybe it’s the contrast. That the soft words come from a Jean who’s taller than her, who’s voice has deepened to a calm and even timbre, who’s face has filled out into lean but rugged features.

Mikasa lifts her hand from her lap and places it on the table between them, just a few centimeters shy of touching his hand.

He asked if she was worried. She wonders if he’s referring to her own safety and ability to succeed against the War Hammer Titan, or about her concerns for Eren and what he might do. Jean knows her well enough though, so she assumes he means both.

Finally, Mikasa shakes her head. Despite the delay, she’s resolute. “No. You’ll be right there watching from the rooftop.”

He spares a thin-lipped smile for her, aware that she discerned that his planned placement during the assault is by no means incidental.

Jean flexes his wrist and cracks a few of his knuckles. When he places his hand back onto the table, his thumb rests near but not quite touching the outside of her little finger.

“Yeah,” he answers, thinking of both unspoken concerns. “I’ll be right there.”

No, it’s not just the contrast that has shown her how gentle Jean can be. Despite her best efforts to be practical and ruthless, Jean is on her list of whom she cares will make it out alive. 

Mikasa relaxes her posture so that her hand slides forward until they touch. She needs him to come home, too.

#jeankasa #jeankasa fanfic #jeankasa fanfiction

[daffodeela]

the wishes and the granting

Summary:

Jean could never say no to Mikasa, except for one thing. [Marriage life, fluff]

Attack on Titan by Hajime Isayama. I don't take any material advantage by writing this story. I wrote this because of my love for JeanKasa fully ❤

Based on Jean’s reverie in chapter 127. 

Warning: Grammatical errors 

Available on AO3 and FFN.

i. Jean could never say no to Mikasa.

Today is the exact two weeks after Jean proposed to Mikasa. Mikasa asks him to talk. Her eyes look so serious, but Jean could catch an agitation in them. The agitation resonates with the inside of him in a different form. He is afraid Mikasa is going to cancel her agreement to his marriage proposal.

“Jean.” Mikasa is silent for a while although Jean already responded to her with a hum. He clenches his fist tightly under the table of the restaurant. He sips his wine as an act of distraction. “I can’t change my last name.”

Jean almost spurts the wine inside his mouth. His agitation changes into deep distress immediately. He catches her implicit message.

“You don’t want to marry me?” he says with a feeling that his throat is throttled. His voice sounds like a croak.

Mikasa snorts and shakes her head. “It’s not like that,” she says calmly. Jean expels his breath with relief and pulls her hand under the table. He holds it tightly as if afraid that she would disappear right here right now. “I just can’t change my last name. I don’t change …” red tints her face, “my agreement to your marriage proposal.”

Jean often dreams about Mikasa Ackerman changes into Mikasa Kirschtein. He repeats the name inside his head more often after Mikasa said yes when he asked her to marry him. A smile and tickles inside his chest always appear every time he thinks about it. Because of that, he couldn’t hold a frown to show on his face.

“Why? You think my last name is embarrassing?”

“It’s not like that.” Mikasa holds his hand back and caresses it using her thumb. He is calmed a little. “I’m the only Ackerman left besides Captain Levi. Captain Levi doesn’t want to use that name as his written identity. Recalling the history of the Ackermans, I feel uncomfortable if I leave the name behind. I just want to show that Ackerman is still here.”

Jean lies if he says that he isn’t disappointed. The Mikasa Kirschtein name slowly fades from his head. But, he looks at her face—the face of the woman he has loved for more than ten years—that’s full of hesitancy and she seems to feel bad, but there’s a hint of hope in her eyes. He says nothing for a while and considers her request. Once again, he sips his wine as a distraction.

“Jean?” Mikasa calls. He can catch that her voice is filled with her feeling bad. “Can I keep my surname?”

He knows if he stays silent for a little longer, Mikasa will start making assumptions about his answer inside her head. He closes his eyes and swallows one full gulp of wine until he can feel a slight burn past his esophagus. His gaze is directed to her eyes and he has known what his answer would be.

“Alright. I understand.” He exhales a long breath and strokes her hand back. His lips curve a convincing smile. “It’s okay, Mikasa. You can keep your surname.”

Mikasa smiles with relief. The smile fades half of his disappointment. “Thank you.” She stares at her glass of wine. He catches her gaze is moving to her right hand that’s always bandaged to cover a notable symbol which is hereditary from her mother’s family. Her eyes widen. She looks at him with enthusiasm that she rarely shows. Her expression is decorated with a sweet red on her cheeks. “I think … Mikasa … Ki-Kirschtein-Ackerman is okay?”

His blood is flowing quickly inside his chest. He grins until his eyes are slanted even more. “What’s that? Say it again,” he teases.

Mikasa still blushes. She rolls her eyes and sulks. “You heard me.”

Jean chuckles. “Yeah. It’s okay. Anything you want, Mikasa. As long as you’re happy.”

She smiles widely. That smile is the same smile that he silently noticed showing on her face on their very first time seeing the ocean. His disappointment fades wholly.

“Thank you, Jean,” she says softly.

If no table separates them, he will kiss her forehead right here right now. Since he can’t do that, he only responds to her with a genuine smile.

“Anything for you.”

…

ii. Jean could never say no to Mikasa.

Sometimes Jean still questions his decision to be a soldier. Heavy tasks and works weigh every soldiers’ shoulder no matter what branch they’re in. What he has been through right now is not even close to his dream because there was something that distracted his choice and he thought there was an aim he wanted to achieve. He recalls he dreamed to be in The Military Police, but he ended up in the choice that he cussed a lot, The Survey Corps.

He glances at Mikasa when they enter the house they share together. His wife looks as tired as him. Without saying anything, they both head to the main bedroom. Jean lays on the bed even before he took off his shoes because the level of his tiredness is really high. He is on his stomach. His right cheek presses the pillow. He closes his eyes.

A tweak on his ear from Mikasa makes him groan. His eyes are open and he moves to sit. “Mikasa!”

“Take a bath first,” Mikasa commands. Her eyes stare at him sharply. “You haven’t even taken off your shoes.”

Jean exhales hardly. He messes his hair. “But—”

“No sleep before taking a bath.” Mikasa releases her tweak and folds her hands in front of her chest. Her command sounds absolute in his ears. Her stare is still sharp.

Jean expels a long breath. He stretches his arms and strokes his face. “Alright,” he says in surrender. He takes off his shoes and leaves them on the side of the bed.

Mikasa tweaks his ear again. “Put your shoes on where they supposed to be.”

He groans until she releases her tweak. He tidies up his shoes before obeying his wife’s first command. “You sound like my mom,” he says lowly. He knows Mikasa hears him, but she doesn’t give him any response.

…

iii. Jean could never say no to Mikasa.

The air that feels colder tells Jean that Mikasa already left their bed. He touches the space where Mikasa is supposed to be on, the trail of her body heat has been gone. Mikasa has been awake for a while.

Jean heads out from his room after folding the blanket and tidying the sheet. He washes his face before looking for Mikasa’s existence. His wife is nowhere to be found from every corner of their house. He scans the shoe rack and realizes that one of Mikasa’s shoes has been gone from there. He concludes that his wife is doing grocery shopping.

His stomach growls because it needs to be filled. He opens the cupboard in the kitchen, the refrigerator, glances at their dining table and doesn’t find any served meal except a piece of cheesecake in the refrigerator. He understands why Mikasa went grocery shopping so early.

The cheesecake is being the only solution to soothe his growling stomach and he decides to eat it. He puts the dirty dishes in the sink. Mikasa is home a few minutes after that. He helps his wife to sort and put the groceries that she bought to the cupboard.

Mikasa freezes when she opens the refrigerator. “Jean,” she calls with a sharp tone. Goosebump hits Jean’s body.

“What is it, honey?” Jean responds softly as his way to soothe any of his act that disturbs his wife.

“Where’s my cheesecake?”

“Ah,” Jean frowns and is bitten by guilt, “I just ate it. I was hungry. I’m sorry, Mikasa.”

Mikasa left the paper bag that contained with groceries on the floor and takes some steps quickly to their bedroom. She slams the door hardly. Jean is shocked. He realizes that Mikasa is getting more sensitive these days, but her act right now really surprises him. Mikasa seemed very upset just because he ate her cheesecake.

Jean immediately heads to their bedroom. He twists the doorknob but the door couldn’t be opened. Mikasa locked it from the inside. He knocks the door softly. “Mikasa? Honey?” he calls with worry.

There is no answer.

Jean knocks the door harder over and over but he still receives nothing. He tries to turn the doorknob in frustration. He thinks about smashing the door, but imagining Mikasa would be more upset encages his intention.

His tiredness and frustration are getting thicker. This is a Sunday morning, they suppose to be chilling. But, the first thing that he faced this morning is something insignificant that is being exaggerated. He strokes his face and surrenders. He walks to the sofa and sits on it. He remembers the groceries inside the paper bag that Mikasa left on the floor. The remembrance makes him rise and continues what his wife didn’t finish.

The sound of their bedroom being opened echoes when Jean is about to lay on the sofa. He waits until Mikasa walks out, but any hint for it doesn’t come. Jean rises and walks to their bedroom. Mikasa is sitting on the edge of the bed. She frowns. Jean situates himself right beside her. He strokes his wife’s long hair.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Mikasa doesn’t give him a single answer. Guilt and shock attack Jean again at the same time when she starts crying. He hugs her immediately, expecting his wife would deny his touch, but she leans her head to his chest instead.

“You ate my cheesecake,” she sobs. “You ate my cheesecake while I was doing grocery shopping for your breakfast and I’m tired because of that.”

Jean tries to control his breathing. He almost let out an amused snort but feel annoyed at the same time. But he stays embracing her and lets her overflow her emotion. He kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Compensate it,” Mikasa says with an authoritative tone after her tears stop dropping. She pushes Jean until his hug is released from her. “Compensate my cake. Compensate it to four pieces.”

Jean couldn’t hold his chuckles this time. “But I only eat one, my dear.” He stretches his hands to embrace Mikasa again but she slaps them until he groans.

“Don’t touch me until you compensate my cake to four pieces.” She stands up. She throws a sharp gaze to him. “And. Don’t. Laugh. At. Me.”

Jean presses his lips together to swallow his laugh. “Alright. I’ll buy them later.”

“Now,” she commands strictly.

“But it’s still ear—”

“Now!”

Jean is startled when he hears the vibration in her tone. Her eyes are glassy with water about to drop. He hugs her right away and she doesn’t reject it. She cries again.

“Shh. Alright, alright, darling. I’ll buy them now, okay?” he whispers although he is actually irked. He caresses her hair and kisses her forehead. “Just wait.”

He drops his embrace and turns his body towards the door. Mikasa holds his arm. “Don’t take too long,” she says with a spoiled tone that surprises him.

He smiles genuinely. “Okay.”

He promptly gets out of their house and heads to the nearest cake shop. The shop just set their “open” sign when he arrives there. He buys what Mikasa asked, four pieces of cheesecake. The cakes still feel cold inside the paper bag when he steps on his house. Mikasa is already waiting for him in the kitchen. He puts the paper bag on the table then fetches a plate and a fork. He sets everything for his wife that still frowns.

The four pieces of cheesecake are eaten in such a short time. Jean expresses his amused smile looking at how well his wife eats and how the light in her eyes is getting brighter and brighter from one scoop to another. She beams at him after swallowing a glass of water. She gets up from her seat and kisses his cheek.

“Thank you, Jean,” she says softly. “I love you.”

He feels something tickles his chest. He pulls Mikasa to sit on his lap and kisses her lips. The taste of the cheesecake she ate still lingers and he savors it.

…

iv. Jean could never say no to Mikasa.

Mikasa has been so clingy to Jean lately. He knows one of the reasons behind that is the existence of a soul from their love inside her womb. Now he also knows that it has been happening when she was overreacting over her piece of cheesecake he ate.

They are just done having supper. Mikasa listens to the radio before entering their bedroom to sit on the closest location with Jean’s work desk. He is working on some files to fulfill his responsibility as a commander.

“Jean.” Mikasa is pulling on his t-shirt as a gesture to ask him to accompany her on the bed.

He chuckles. “Wait a minute. I’m working, Mikasa.”

Mikasa sulks. He is surprised but smiles all along when she stands behind him and circles her arms around his neck. Her chin sticks to his head. Her hands block his point of view to the files on the desk. He holds her hands softly and moves them so he can see his works. She moves her hands to the position before.

“Jean. You can work on them later. Sleep with me,” Mikasa says right behind his ear. He shudders. He loses his grip on the pen when she starts kissing his nape. The hands that she used to circle his neck before are pulling on his t-shirt until it pasts his head and off of him. He turns his head to the back and she kisses his lips right away. He pulls Mikasa until she is sitting on his lap. When their kisses are getting deeper, he carries Mikasa and lays her down on the bed.

They make love and Jean forgets about his works whilst he is doing it. He just remembers them when they are done. Mikasa makes his arm as her pillow. He strokes her forehead that shines because of sweats using his right hand.

“Mikasa, raise your head a little,” he whispers with his husky voice.

Instead of complying with Jean’s request, Mikasa cuddles him. “Where do you want to go?”

Jean chuckles. “I haven’t done my works yet.”

Her embrace is getting tighter. The skin to skin contact between their bodies makes him groan.

“Can you at least wait until I fall asleep?” asks Mikasa. Her spoiled tone makes him want to bite her cheek because she is so cute.

He estimates that he will have to stay up late until predawn if he fulfills his wife’s wish. Still and all, his response is still a smile that he presses to her forehead. He cups her face and looks straight into her eyes. “Anything for you, my love.”

…

v. Jean could never say no to Mikasa.

There is only a week before Mikasa’s maternity leave is over when she suddenly tells Jean, “I want to quit from the military.”

Jean, with his roles as her husband and commander, is really shocked after hearing her words. He asks Mikasa to sit. She still carries their son, Marco, who has stopped crying and finally falls asleep in his mom’s embrace.

“Why? You are the strongest soldier, Mikasa.”

Marco’s cry breaks their conversation. She stands again and pats on her son’s back. The seven weeks baby won’t stop crying although she already tried any way she could. Jean rises, takes him from his mother’s hand, whispers hisses to his ear, and moves his body to the right and left to calm their son. His hard to be stopped loud cry finally turns into sweet laughs that make his parents anesthetized until they almost forget about their conversation topics.

Mikasa is the first person who is conscious of their son’s power. She stares at him again. Even though her face seems conflicted about things he doesn’t know, she also looks at him and their son affectionately.

“That’s why,” she says while turning her gaze fully to Marco. “I want to take care of Marco myself, Jean. I don’t want any stranger to look after him.”

Jean glances at Marco’s back. His son has already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He still moves his body as his effort to prevent his cry.

“My mother can take care of him while we’re working,” Jean offers.

“Trost is too far from here. It must be hard for Marco to travel a long way every day. I have thought about that.”

Jean presses his cheek to Marco’s head for a while. He kisses his son affectionately. His black hair that was inherited from his mom also has the same softness. He takes a deep breath. Mikasa’s scent is inhaled from his son. His chest is full of love. He stays silent and hasn’t given any response to Mikasa’s words.

“Jean?” Mikasa calls. “As my husband and commander, would you allow me to stop being a soldier?”

Jean is finally aware of their conversation. Their son, the proof of their love, is so cute that he can be his biggest distraction from concentration. He thinks about his offer. They live in the central district, obviously so far from Trost. He stares at Mikasa for a while. Considerations are spinning inside his head. She looks at him with hope and sincerity in her eyes.

“As your commander, I don’t feel good to lose a soldier as strong as you, Mikasa.” He pauses. His chest feels heavy seeing the disappointment on her face. “But as your commander and your husband,  especially your husband,  I grant your wish.”

Mikasa smiles. Her disappointment is fading. He hands Marco to her when she stretches her arms to hold their son again. She kisses Marco’s temple in long duration and closes her eyes. The view makes Jean feel touched.

“I grant your wish as long as you won’t regret it because you have fought this far, Mikasa.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “My family is what matters the most.”

Jean hugs Mikasa carefully without pinning Marco. He kisses her forehead and the back of his son’s head affectionately. “Thank you,” he whispers while pressing his forehead to hers.

“I’m the one who should say thank you,” Mikasa responds. “Thank you for giving me your grant.”

“Don’t mention it. Anything that you think is the best, Mikasa. Anything as long as you’re happy.”

She tiptoes to kiss his lips. She pulls back and stares at her husband. “I think I want to do some gardening to fill my spare time just like what my mom did. Is it okay if I use our backyard for that?”

Jean cups her face. “Yeah. Just use it, honey.” He is happy that his wife really, really thinks for herself again.

His chest is filled with love when Mikasa leans her head to his shoulder and kisses his neck.

…

i. Jean could never say no to Mikasa—

Niccolo often sends him the finest wine. Jean keeps the bottles of wine inside a cupboard in the kitchen. At first, he only drinks it at night or on special occasions like his birthday, Mikasa’s, Marco’s, or their anniversary. What Niccolo said the finest wine is really the finest wine until sometimes Jean drinks it in the morning when Mikasa is still asleep or at noon when she is gardening.

The first time Mikasa catches him drinking the wine in the morning, he receives a tweak on his ear from his wife. “It’s still early! You shouldn’t drink the wine in the morning!”

Jean complies with what Mikasa said after that, but sometimes still sneaks up to sip the wine aside from the night. It is the nth time he sneaks up right behind Mikasa’s back, and she catches him again. Her responses are still the same. She is upset and snaps at him although this time she doesn’t give him a tweak.

“I always listen and grant your wishes, Mikasa. Please give me your permission for this one,” Jean pleads.

Mikasa doesn’t answer. The nights after that, she doesn’t allow him to sleep with her. The sofa is the only solution for him. He sleeps there without a pillow and a blanket. The sofa is not enough to facilitate his tall body. Discomfort attacks him for seven nights.

In the middle of it, Jean keeps drinking his wine in the morning and after lunch on his day off. Mikasa doesn’t say anything to him, but she always throws a sharp glance. At one night, Jean feels his cheek is being patted softly. He hears Mikasa call his name in the middle of his sleep on the sofa. He opens his folding arms and embraces his wife right away. He says nothing and waits until Mikasa utters her purpose of waking him up.

“Jean,” Mikasa calls him again. She moves her body to pull herself from her husband’s embrace. Her hand strokes his head softly. “Sleep in the bedroom. With me.”

Jean smiles although his eyes still feel heavy. He nods silently. Mikasa holds his hand on their way to the bedroom as if guiding him. He cuddles his wife in his sleep tightly because he misses this moment for a long time. He can feel Mikasa do the same.

In the morning, Jean takes a gulp of wine again even before his stomach is filled with any breakfast. Mikasa glances at him, but totally ignores what he does. He concludes that Mikasa is finally okay with that habit of his. Even if Mikasa minds that, he doesn’t want to take any complaint from anyone about this, although if it comes from his beloved wife.

—except for her request that asks him to stop drinking the wine aside from the night.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #snk #snk 127 #aot #aot 127 #fanfiction #my fic

[shreddedleopard]

How are Rivahisu faring at this difficult, unprecedented time? (maybe as key workers - the queen and a soldier of the military- they don't get to self-isolate). Jeankasa too (I ship that last one so hard now).

Oooh okay - @the-cartoon-princess I’m going to be straight up honest here, I’d feel like I’m being really presumptuous trying to write them as key workers as I don’t have that first hand experience myself, and I don’t want to take anything for granted about what people are having to tackle at the moment as KWs, so I’m going to write them being stuck home if that’s alright?

But if you’re up for it - maybe you could tackle it with your experience? 😊 I know you’re a keen Rivahisu writer too 😉

Okay, here goes ...

Rivahisu

👑 Historia is actually thoroughly delighted to get some peace and quiet and time to herself for a while, although she’s unsure what that might look like if it’s Captain Levi she’s stuck with. At least she knows she’ll be safe with Humanity’s Strongest.

⚔️ Levi, on the other hand, feels that he’s far too busy to be holed up with some royal brat for weeks on end. She better be a tidy housemate.

👑 Historia always offers to be the one to go out and get the grocery shopping, but Levi won’t hear of it. His role is to protect her, so off he goes with the list as long as his arm that she’s given him so that she can stay home.

⚔️ He knows she’ll be especially safe in said home, by the way, because he’s spent the last six hours practically sterilising the place.

👑 Historia quickly comes to learn that Levi has many more talents than just kicking ass as a soldier. She always knew he was clean, but heck - living with him during a pandemic is next level. He’s installed hand sanitizer stations in every room. At least she feels safe for many reasons now.

⚔️ Levi makes a point of getting up early to excerise and train - he can’t be getting slack just because of this lockdown, plus living with a teenager is definitely making him feel his age.

👑 Historia also makes a point of getting up early - she pretends to busy herself with making him tea for when he’s done training, but really, she spends more time ogling him in his personal workout gear. Who knew his short frame was so well put together beneath that uniform of his?

⚔️ Levi likes to spend a few hours cleaning the house each day - to his surprise, Historia insists on joining him. They actually end up spending a lot of time chatting while they work, and Levi begins to realise he looks forward to the daily cleaning for more than one reason.

👑 Historia likes to sit out and read in the afternoons while Levi trains some more in the garden. Again, she soon realises she’s spending more time ogling the Captain than she is reading. Levi wonders why she keeps re-reading the same chapter over and over.

⚔️ Levi finds himself falling in love with Historia’s cooking. He’s never really much cared about food before now, but suddenly he finds that he looks forward to the tasty, wholesome dinners Historia feeds him, and her desserts mean he even begins to develop a bit of a sweet tooth. How fucking domestic of him.

👑 Historia likes to watch rom-coms in the evening. Levi protests vehemently, but ultimately gives in because at the end of the day, she’s royalty and he can’t be bothered trying to reason with her. However, Historia soon notices him paying attention to such classics as The Notebook and Pretty Woman; even getting a little tear in his eye as the films end. When she mentions it, he blames the ‘shitty dust in the room,’ and, despite them only having cleaned it hours earlier for the fourth time that week, goes off to fetch his duster.

⚔️ Historia likes to take her walks for exercise in the early evening. Levi insists on accompanying her for safety, but soon finds himself enjoying her company as she points out the names of the flowers and trees in the local park and tells him about her favourites. He’s never had chance to stop and appreciate such beauty before.

Jeankasa

🐴 Jean cannot believe his luck. He’s getting to spend the next several weeks shut up in a house with the girl of his dreams. All he needs now is for her to actually notice him.

🌸 Mikasa wonders how she’s going to manage being unable to see Eren for several weeks - who will look out for him? Who will make sure he eats? Who will make sure he’s still breathing every morning?

🐴 Jean tells Mikasa he will go and do the grocery shopping so she can stay home. Mikasa doesn’t like that one bit. She can take care of herself. They both end up going.

🌸 Shopping is actually completed with military efficiency with both of them working together - Mikasa has her list of essentials and Jean is keen to get in and get the job done, no dawdling. Mikasa starts to realise they actually make a pretty good team.

🐴 Jean makes a point of working out in front of Mikasa on the lawn every day with his shirt off. Mikasa merely decides to join in, and Jean ends up totally embarrassed because she absolutely shows him up with her ridiculous strength.

🌸 Jean insists on cooking dinner each night. He goes to a lot of trouble to make stuff interesting and cooks everything from scratch. Mikasa starts to realise he’s actually pretty good to have around and she might have come up lucky getting stuck with him.

🐴 Mikasa lets Jean have the TV remote. She’s not bothered what they watch. Jean purposefully puts on as many rom-coms as he can, and positions himself as close as he can to Mikasa on the sofa without being obvious about it. Mikasa secretly enjoys the films, and it’s weird how she finds she’s beginning to picture herself with Jean as the leading love interest, rather than Eren.

🌸 Jean gets bored and starts looking for DIY tasks to do around the house. He’s a pretty good problem solver and fairly handy, so he sets himself to task. To his surprise, Mikasa joins in, and between them they manage to erect a new shed in the garden, build a bookcase for the living room from old pallets Jean found, and hang some pictures in the hallway. They find time to chat as they work, and Mikasa quickly realises how much she enjoys Jean’s company, and again what a well matched team they make.

Thanks for the ask! 🥰

#headcanon ask #headcanon requests #rivahisu headcanon #jeankasa headcanon #fullmetal alchemist headcanon #attack on titan headcanon

[roses-at-moonrise]

Jeankasa one shot — “Autumn Sun”

“Mama,” the little boy said, “why do you have a scar on your cheek?”

Mikasa touched the tips of her fingers to her cheek, as if she had forgotten she had a permanent mark there. She smiled at her young son, running her fingers through his dark hair. It had become warm in the autumn sun, bringing her comfort from the sharp pain in her heart that occurred seconds earlier.

Just like his father’s, she thought as she looked into his shining amber eyes.

“Remember when I told you I used to be a soldier?”

The little boy nodded.

“Well, I got cut one day, and the mark stayed there.”

Her son looked up at her in shock and worry. “Did it hurt?”

“A little,” she said, stroking his cheek, “but I didn’t let it get in the way of my mission.”

He looked up at his mother in pure awe, and Mikasa could hear Jean’s footsteps crunching the leaves on the ground behind her. Their son’s gaze moved from his mother to his father, and he squealed with delight as he was handed a small mug of his favorite sweetened tea.

Jean stood next to his wife, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek and mug of her own favorite tea.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said. “The leaves changed really fast, didn’t they? It seems like they were green just yesterday.”

They stood in comfortable silence, watching as the wind ruffled the leaves on the trees. Waves of orange and gold made their way through the forest around them, with the occasional leaf falling into the glimmering pond below.

They drank their freshly brewed tea, shivering in the chilly air swirling around them. Jean would adjust his scarf and Mikasa would tuck her hair behind her ear, but it would come undone when the next breeze came through.

They smiled lovingly, watching their son as he pushed leaves into piles and jumped into them. He laughed at himself, then repeated the process. Jean and Mikasa would chuckle too as he looked toward them every time he got up again.

“Don’t go out too far, Marco,” Mikasa called out to him. “Don’t get too close to the pond.”

Jean chuckled. “He’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “We’ve taught him well.”

Marco entertained himself with the leaf piles he created, and Mikasa didn’t take her eyes off of him until Jean stepped in front of her, gently putting his hand her belly. He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. She relished in the warmth that it spread through her.

“And we’ll teach this one just as well,” he whispered.

“I think it’s a girl,” said Mikasa.

“You do?”

“I have a feeling.”

Jean peered down at her belly, a grin growing on his face.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” he said.

She leaned forward and stretched upward so she could meet her lips with his, feeling like every moment of her life lead up to this bliss: her already amazing family was growing, and she was as happy as she could be.

And their eternal love thrived, under the autumn sun.

#jeankasa #attack on titan fic #one shot #just a little drabble for my favorite snk ship #snk fic #i wrote this when i was very tired but i was in a jeankasa mood #my fic

[dancingazaleas]

jeankasa | morning, world

call this whatever you want to, i just love them and i’m not gonna stop talking abt them idc

i wrote the beginning a long time but i kept getting distracted with other pieces, so i wanted to make this short but sweet

warnings/notes: literally none, fluff, tooth rotting fluff

the morning dew shines in the dull gleam of the sun, so bright and visible that it almost causes jean to squint his eyes. scratch that, it does make jean squint.

the cold nips at his exposed skin while he leans on the steel railing of his balcony, tired eyes staring at the flower field a few acres from his home. the morning was serene; owls hooting just before they slept for the day, wind blowing against the trees, and birds tweeting as they see the dull morning sun.

the distant smell of coffee has him turning his head to the side, smiling softly at the sight of his beautiful wife walking towards him with a tired yet peaceful look on her face with two coffee mugs in her hands.

“good morning,” mikasa mumbles, flashing him a tired smile and handing him his mug.

“g’morning, my love,” he kisses the crown of her head, arm wrapped around her shoulders while he held her close.

“guntram’s sleeping again,” he ponders aloud to his wife, who cracks a small smile.

“he is,” she pauses, “i cannot believe you got me to name our son with a name that means war raven.”

jean chuckles while he sips at his coffee, “fits for us two, does it not?”

she shakes her head, snuggling closer to jean and his warmth.

the two stand on their balcony, bathing in the dull sunlight as it shines upon their property. they sip at their coffee while they stand, and when they finish, the two walk back into the home together.

he guides her back to their bed, the crisp morning air sending shivers up and down their spines while they huddle together. despite this, jean loves it. then again, he loves anything that has to do with mikasa.

just at the warmth settles into their skin, the echo of a cry erupts from a different room. mikasa sighs in disappointment, she’d just gotten comfortable after all. before she can even sit up, jean is walking to the bedroom door.

when he walks into his son’s room, he’s greeted by the sight of guntram standing upon his feet inside of his crib, stubby hands gripped onto the white railing. jean smiles while taking his son into his big arms, cooing gently.

“it’s alright, daddy’s here,” he murmurs against his son’s forehead, lightly bouncing him in his arms.

the crying quiets down for a moment, but it doesn’t stop.

“you want your momma, huh,” he wipes off a tear, “i wanted her too this morning, but since i love you so much, i’ll make an exception.”

he carries his son back to his bedroom, mikasa sitting against the headboard with a fond and tired smile on her face.

“he wants his momma,” jean chuckles, leaning against the door to close it behind him.

mikasa laughs as she holds out her arms.

jean readjusts guntram, grabbing the child’s chubby hand and pointing it towards mikasa, “look! there’s mommy!”

the boy immediately quiets down at the sight of his mother, incoherent noises slipping from his lips while he grabs at the air. mikasa takes guntram from jean’s arms, pecking at her son’s forehead.

jean flops back into bed with her, pulling her body into his own to get a good look at his son.

“mommy’s here, sweet boy,” a thumb strokes his rosy cheek.

he smiles, eyes practically beaming with light as mikasa looks down on him with a smile. jean taps his finger against guntram’s nose, dangling his fingers above his child’s face.

his heart almost bursts whenever guntram grabs onto his index finger. he pulls the finger close to him, opening his mouth and gumming on his fingertip. guntram’s eyes are big and wide and bright, switching from mikasa to jean.

jean holds back his tears whenever he realizes that mikasa’s looking at him, the same angelic look on her face. he knocks his forehead against hers, letting the hot tears slip from his eyes. he feels almost pathetic deep down inside, but whenever he remembers the turmoil he went through, he gives himself a break.

“thank you,” he places a kiss upon her lips, “thank you.”

“for what,” she whispers and stares into his eyes after she checks on guntram.

“for giving me the world,” he chuckles and looks down.

her cheeks are bright and her eyes avert to their son. hesitantly, she rests her head on his shoulder.

“thank you for being mine.”

#sorrel.drabbles🩰 #aot jean #snk jean #jean aot #jean kirschstein #jean x mikasa #jeankasa #jean kirstein #aot mikasa #mikasa snk #shingeki no kyojin mikasa #mikasa ackerman #aot fluff #aot fanfiction

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

The meadow, the river and him.

Day 5 of Jeankasa Week 2021: Angst

AO3

Mikasa reflects on her love before letting him know of big news

His body jolts in his sleep, which seems like an unnatural thing to do in the middle of the quiet, sunlit meadow. We were lulled to sleep by the birds in the trees merely ten minutes ago, and the nightmares are haunting him again. It’s not a strange occurrence for both us around this time of season, when summer begins to die.

I turn over in his arms and kiss his right cheek, while one of my hands combs back his hair. I take a moment to stare; he really is beautiful. The perfect lines of his face, the stubble on his chin, his nose, his lips, it is all so beautiful that -at the very beginning of our relationship, when the threads of love hadn’t been weaved together yet- I used to wonder what was it about me that had caught his eye for so long.

Jean stirs in his sleep again, mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over. We’ve barely slept the past few days and as much as I want him to rest, I can’t see him suffer for much longer. I sit up, lean over his face, and place a kiss on his lips, tapping gently on his cheek.

“Mikasa?” He always says my name upon waking up; he’s always looking for my presence both in his sleep and reality. With time I learned how much I also longed to look for him, how wonderful it felt to say his name and have him reply with a loving smile and a kiss.

“I’m here,” I say, making shooshing noises as I kiss his neck. “You were having a nightmare.”

Jean rubs the back of my head, breathing much more easily. “It was an awful nightmare,” he says shakily. “Come here, look at me.”

I settle into his arms like a bird into its nest, hugging his chest while locking eyes with him. Years ago, I thought that my home had burned with the destruction of the world. But now his arms are home, a new, sweet, love-infused home I never want to leave.

“What was the nightmare about?” I ask after a moment of silence.

“Lay back,” he requests sweetly. I lie on the blanket, which is still warm despite being under the shade of a tree. He climbs on top of me, and I wait for him to start taking off my red dress, or for his hands to explore beneath my underpants. But all Jean does is press his head against my chest, leaning against my left breast.

“Honey, what is it?” I ask again, putting both of my hands on his head, enjoying the scent of his shampoo.

He looks up at me after a while. “Your heartbeat,” he says; his voice is shaking, his eyes have the glint of tears in them. “I want to make sure you’re one hundred percent here.”

“Jean, I’m alive,” I say, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’m alive and I’m all yours, alright? Forget that nightmare.”

He hugs me, burying his face between my breasts in a position that, thirty minutes ago, I would’ve found arousing. But seeing him tear up from his bad dreams only stirs the protective instinct in me. I understand his fears when it comes to losing me, for I fear the same thing. He’s a proper man now, stronger than when he was a teenager and a great ambassador for peace. And yet, all I want to do is protect him, keep in between my arms for the rest of our days, out of harm’s way.

“Mikasa,” he sobs, lifting his face to look at me again. “It was a really awful dream.”

“It’s over now,” I say, grabbing his face to kiss him for a long minute. “It wasn’t real. You’re with me, and it’s really warm, and we should go take a dip in the river.”

“The worst nightmares I have are about losing you,” he whimpers. “I’m always okay when I realize you’re still here with me.”

Jean kisses me again, pressing his naked torso against me. My hands travel the muscles in his back; he’s so perfectly well built, almost chiseled by hand. I’ve never been one to fall for someone for his looks, but I have never denied that his beautiful body caught my eye long before I even thought of him as a lover, as anything other than a good friend.

“I love you, Jean,” I whisper, kissing his cheeks, lips, and forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, Mikasa,” he whispers back as I use my fingers to wipe the remaining tears on his face. “I love you so much, that sometimes I’m scared that the nightmares are the real world, and this is just an illusion.”

“It isn’t.” I say firmly. “This is real life. You and me, that is real life. The bad things are behind us.”

“I love you, gorgeous.”

“I love you too, handsome.” I say, giving him the sweet smile that was born at the same time as my love for him was. Not once I thought I would smile and laugh this often, and this sincerely. “I love you so, so very much.”

We stay in silence for a long time, wallowing in the love we have for each other. His breathing steadies, and I know that he’s past the initial terror from his nightmare when he looks up at me with a shy smirk. “You mentioned the river, didn’t you? I thought you didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“I didn’t.” I say, smiling cheekily.

“That means you and I get to go skinny dipping.”

“That’s precisely why I didn’t bring any bathing suit.” I say, kissing him again.

Jean helps me undo the buttons of my dress. We’re well accustomed to each other’s bodies by now. I still remember us not being able to keep our hands off each other the first couple of weeks after our first night together…although that hasn’t changed much, I think as he kisses the length of my back while squeezing my breasts. “Swimming, lover boy,” I remind him, tilting my head to the side so he can kiss my neck. “We’re going swimming first.”

“Sorry,” Jean says. Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling.

We finish removing our clothes and dip into the river holding each other’s hands. The water is cool on my skin; the heatwaves at the end of summer have become worse after the rumbling, so Jean and I have made a bit of a habit of coming here to cool off on our free days. It’s our little corner of the world away from everyone and everything, our quiet paradise.

I dip my head under water, and he does the same. When we come out, the breeze feels fresher.

I have a hope it’ll remain untouched by modernization, a hope I know won’t come true. With all the new trade routes established, and the help coming into Shingashina straight from Hizuru’s mines, I know civilization will extend into our little paradise.

“You’re all serious now,” Jean says, taking a hold of me. I float closer to him, wrap my legs around his waist and my hands around his neck. “What’s on your mind?”

I kiss him. “I’m thinking I don’t want anyone to build a park here…or a factory.”

“It would be harder to go skinny dipping.” He says; we’re both aware of my hardened nipples against his chest, of the thing hardening just between his legs. The swimming won’t go on for long, but that’s alright.

“Want me to buy the place?” Jean asks.

“With whose money?”

“Some people owe me favors in the continent and Hizuru, remember?” Jean says, shrugging with some of the ego that characterized his teenage self, making me giggle. His hands are on my lower back, and it won’t take them long to go further below. “I could ask for a loan…”

“Don’t get yourself into debt for me.” I laugh, kissing him again. “I’m sure they’d give us the money straight up.”

“Alright, then want me to buy this place for you?” Jean says. “We could build a house, right there by the tree. It would be our summer home, away from the city.”

I think about it for a while. “It could be a good place to raise a family,” I say slowly, leaning on his shoulder to examine the quiet meadow, the distant mountains. “A place to grow old in.”

“That apartment will only get us so far.” Jean says, looking at the spot I’m focusing on as well. I know he’s imagining the house, our future. “I mean, when we start having children, we won’t all fit in there.”

“How many children are you trying to get me to have?” I ask, looking up at him, the whole of me aware of his manhood pressing against my entrance, fully awakened now. “Ten? Fifteen?”

He shrugs. “Three will be good. Three is a good number.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Three sounds like a plan.”

I kiss him again, my tongue dipping into his mouth. It’s been a couple of years since we got married, and we only started talking about children a few months ago. I was the one who started the conversations, in fact. I still smile at the memory of his dumbfounded expression as I brought out the subject of children, how his face changed from surprise to elation.

His kisses stray from my mouth to my neck, then finally to my nipples. He takes them in his mouth and runs his tongue over them, while three of his fingers enter me. I tilt my head back, enjoying the movements of his long fingers inside me, my eyes on the blue, cloudless sky above us.

It doesn’t take long for him to carry me back to the blanket under the tree. “So long for the swimming.” I say against his ear.

“We have the whole afternoon.” He replies. “We can dip in later.”

“And what will we do now?”

“Want to get started making the first baby?” He asks as he lays me down. He places himself on top of me; my hands go to his face, and I settle my eyes on him. Cooling off from the heatwave isn’t the only reason why I wanted to come here today.

“About that,” I say, taking a deep breath. “We don’t need to get started at all.”

Jean blinks, confused. “What do you mean? Do you want to wait some more?”

I sigh. “You’re hopeless,” I say, kissing his lips for a moment before whispering. “I’m already pregnant, Jean.”

He looks at me, his eyes filling with tears. But these aren’t tears of despair nor fear. These are happy tears, tears that wash away the pain from the past. It’s the same tears I shed when I realized I was madly, irrevocably in love with him.

“When?” He asks, placing quick kisses on my face. “When did we make it?”

“We’ve been trying every night for months, haven’t we?” I say with a low giggle; his stubble always tickles me when he kisses me like this. But he looks too good with it to ask him to shave it off. “I must be about three, four weeks pregnant, if I’m guessing right.”

“Does my mom know? Does Armin know? Connie?” He asks, not giving me time to answer.

“I sent a letter to Armin and Annie, one to Pieck, one to Reiner,” I say, smiling widely as I put a strand of hair behind his ear. “Your mom knows. Connie knows because he was there when I told your mother.”

“When did you tell her?”

“Just yesterday,” I say, letting another moment go by so he can kiss me. “I wanted to tell you here. This is our spot, after all.”

“When did you find out?” Jean asks; it seems he cannot stop kissing my face.

“About a week ago. I wanted to tell you earlier, but we could never find time to come here.”

“I fucking hate my job, I could’ve known a week ago.” Jean mutters, making me laugh. He looks at me and chuckles as well. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t curse so near the baby.”

Something clicks in him, and he scrambles to stand up, looking terrified. “I’m sorry!” He shouts, startling me. “I’m lying on top of you like a dumbass.”

“Is that bad?” I ask, confused.

“I don’t want to hurt our baby!” He says, pacing back and forth naked. I cover my mouth to giggle lowly; as beautiful as he is, seeing him naked with that silly look on his face makes me laugh like a little kid making fun of an adult. “We need to start getting everything we need. We need to find a doctor to see you. Do you want to give birth in Shingashina? I know Historia will let us in the royal palace if you want something more comfortable.”

“Jean, honey, we have nine months.” I say, feeling my love for him grow bigger, if possible. “We can think about all of that later.”

“I can’t help it,” Jean asks, beaming as he sits next to me. “I’m so fucking excited —sorry, no cursing in front of the baby.”

“The baby won’t mind.” I say. “I’m sure he or she loves you already.”

“You think so?” He says, placing a hand on my lower abdomen. I put my hand on top of his; it’s hard for me to believe life is growing inside me. A life he helped create, a life that will be half his, half mine. “Do you think our baby really loves me already?”

“I’m sure our baby feels the love I have for you, and they love you just as strongly,” I say, nearing my face to his to kiss him. His tongue touches mine again, and we both lie back on the grass, feeling each other’s bodies as our mouths are intertwined. He leans slightly to press half of his weight on my body, grinding his shaft against me. I take a hold of it, placing my legs so one tiny movement will push him inside me.

“Make love to me.” I whisper.

“I don’t wanna hurt the baby.”

“Jean!” I say, rolling my eyes in amusement. “You won’t hurt the baby!”

“How big am I, Mika?” He asks seriously, pulling back.

I cast a glance at his throbbing manhood. “Quite big, yes,” I say, feeling my cheeks heating up. “Which is very nice. I enjoy it very much each time you make love to me.”

“What if I hurt the baby?” He asks, looking genuinely concerned. I stare at him for a long moment, my sweet expression dropping as each second passes. Another moment goes by, and laughter escapes my chest in uncontrollable bouts; it echoes around us and is carried away by the wind.

“You’re such an idiot!” I laugh, covering my mouth as I start snorting. “You and I are going to drop by a bookstore on our way back.”

“The bookstore?” Jean says, blinking in confusion.

“You need to know more anatomy, Jean Kirstein.” I laugh, and he starts laughing with me.

“Alright, I’m an idiot,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek. My laughter dies slowly, but my love for him remains as strong as before. Stronger now, perhaps, after that stupidly naïve comment. “I’ll try my best to learn about pregnancy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was adorable,” I say, kissing his cheek. “We still have two to go, don’t we? So, you’ve got plenty time to learn. But I would like you to read some more about anatomy, please. Didn’t you pay attention to sex ed with Hange?”

“It’s not like they knew much about sex ed,” Jean replies, scrunching up his face at the memory. “Didn’t they spend a whole afternoon talking about their theories on how titans should reproduce? The whole asexual reproduction plant comparison?”

I giggle again, feeling only the smallest twinge of pain from the memory of Hange. Grief never leaves us, not really. It comes and goes, in waves, sometimes as huge as tsunamis, some other times mere undulations on the water.

“Do you want a girl or a boy?” He asks, kissing my breast.

“A girl would be nice.” I say, smiling at him.

“A girl would be great. Can you imagine? A little girl that looks exactly like you but has my talent for singing?” Jean agrees, and I push him playfully.

“Watch it, Kirstein! I’m not a bad singer.”

Jean smiles, brushing hair away from my face while looking at me like I’ve been just weaved out of sunlight. “I’ll buy this place for you, alright? It’ll be our home. Our baby girl is going to grow up here, I’ll teach her how to fish.”

“Things will get busy from now on,” I say. “A baby is a big responsibility.”

“You’ll be the best mom, I just know it,” he assures me, wrapping me in a warm embrace. I close my eyes and hug him back.

“And you’ll be the best dad.” I say, waiting a moment to add. “Handsomest dad, too.”

“And you’ll be the hottest mom around.”

I giggle. “Are you trying to seduce me, Kirstein?”

“All the time, Ackerman.”

Our lips meet again, and we’re lost in each other. To this day, I am grateful for this connection we’ve built out of rubble. His love saved me from the precipice of grief; it told me I was not doomed.

Humans would never rid themselves off their greed for power, their hatred for one another, however, and our experiences during the peace negotiations were proof of that. But ten years have passed, and we have left most of the horrors behind. And although I’m sure that, in the distant future, us humans will simply commit the same crimes against each other again, for now I don’t have to worry about that.

For now, it’s the soft blanket of sunlight that wraps me up every day. For now it’s the promise that, like the change of winter into spring, everything comes alive again…even after it’s been set ablaze. For now, it’s the certainty that things can be good again. For now, all I want is the happiness and hope his love has brought me…no, the happiness and hope our love has brought to each other.

For now it’s just Jean and I, the meadow and the river.

#Jeankasa #Jean x Mikasa #Jean Kirstein #jean kirschtien #eren jaeger #jeankasaweek2021 #Jeankasa Week 2021 #fic #ao3 #fluff #shingeki no kyojin fic #smut

[pickalilywrites]

Can I get some wholesome Jeankasa? Any au is fine. I just need more of these cuties.

gotta write them into my GoT au somehow!

A Shining Knight

Jeankasa. ASOIAF AU. 

2262 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

It takes years to become a knight. Jean knows this more than anyone. He served as a page in his youth, and he’s still serving his time as a squire. His master works for the Royal House Tybur, although the knight has yet to be bestowed with the honor of becoming a part of the Kingsguard. It was unlikely that his master ever would. Only a few knights were trusted enough to become a part of the Kingsguard, and one spot has been reserved for one person in particular even though she has yet to be knighted.

“Mikasa Ackerman,” a voice behind Jean spits. It’s not uncommon to have the name said with such disgust, although most people don’t speak as loudly as the boy behind Jean does. When he glances behind him, he sees that it’s a boy that’s a year or two older than him, but the boy speaks as though he’s been serving at the castle for years. “I don’t see how anyone could possibly climb the ranks so quickly, and a girl at that. She must have done something to have people favor her so much.”

“Well, she does have the Ackerman name,” another boy says, his voice much quieter than his companion. He’s another boy who works at the castle, although Jean recognizes that the both of them are newly appointed squires despite their age. It makes Jean wonder how they have the audacity to speak so disapprovingly of a person when it’s unlikely that either of them have ever held a sword or put on armor. “They might not have much wealth or land, but they are highly respected because of their history of serving the King. Most people from House Ackerman end up serving the King in some way. Many of them even become knights and eventually serve on the Kingsguard.”

“That may be true, but even a woman?” the first speaker asks incredulously. He reaches up to ruffle the messy brown curls on his head. “Even if she has inherited some skills from her family, I doubt they would be enough to allow her to be invited to the Kingsguard so early. Usually knights serve for years before being allowed the Kingsguard, but there are rumors that she’ll be put on the Kingsguard as soon as she’s knighted. Don’t you think there’s something strange about that?”

Hearing such talk makes the back of Jean’s neck burn. Although he would hardly consider himself a friend of Mikasa Ackerman, he’s been acquainted with her for years because both of their masters serve in the castle. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, but he’s come to know that she is an honorable squire, and that she will become an even more honorable knight. If there is anyone who deserves to serve on the Kingsguard, it is her.

“Well, it is a bit strange,” the boy’s companion admits. “But the Royal Family does favor her. Perhaps she does deserve a position on the Kingsguard.”

“No, no, no,” the boy says, shaking his head. He leans over, lowering his voice but only a bit, and whispers with a wicked smile, “Don’t you think that the Royal Family favors her a bit too much? There’s no reason to spoil a squire as much as they do her, but I heard that she gets invited to the balls and dinners that the Tyburs hold despite not being a knight yet.”

His friend squirms in his seat, not quite liking where this is going but too intrigued to tell his friend to stop. “I suppose that is a bit strange…”

“And she’s quite close with the members as well,” the boy continues eagerly, not noticing that Jean has turned his head to the chattering boys and is now glaring at them with a deadly fire in his eyes. “They call her by name, isn’t that strange? King William seems especially taken to her. Apparently, they’ve been close ever since she had first been brought to the castle, even before King William ascended the throne. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were relieved of her duties as a knight as soon as he ascends the throne and made a lady. It’s a wonder that they just don’t make her a lady right now, or perhaps there’s something thrilling in a forbidden romance.” The boy laughs as if this frivolous gossip is somehow amusing.

“I see,” his friend murmurs as if this all makes sense. Is it that difficult to think that a woman possesses more talent than they ever will? Ah, listening to this senseless gossip is beginning to make Jean’s blood boil. “She is quite pretty, although women like her should never put on armor. It’s unsightly.”

“She’d probably look even more ridiculous in a dress. Not at all slender and fair like Princess Edith was,” the boy says even though hardly anyone mentions the name of the exiled princess in this castle. Perhaps he has had too much wine or maybe he’s never had any brains to start with because his words only get worse after this. “Ladies should be like Princess Edith or the Queen Mother, shouldn’t they? Or else they turn into the bad sort, sleeping around the castle. With people like her around, this castle may as well just turn into a brothel.”

“It is a pity,” his friend agrees after a bit. “Girls like Mikasa need to learn how to behave.”

“That’s right, that’s right!” the other boy says, nodding up and down. “She should be put in her place before she starts taking advantage of people in the castle.”

“Shouldn’t you think about your own place before you start deciding where others belong?” Jean’s voice is so loud in the dining area that it startles even him. He hadn’t known that he was capable of harboring so much fury. He’s gotten angry before, yes, but nothing to this degree. Before he knows it, he’s standing up and facing the two squires, who are looking up at him in surprise. “What gives you the right to judge her? She’s far more talented than you give her credit for. Is it that you two are so incompetent and insecure that you feel the need to talk poorly about her in order to feel better about yourselves?”

The first boy turns red, embarrassed to be insulted so rudely by someone younger than him. He pushes his chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floors. Angrily, he turns to Jean, grabbing him by the collar and spitting, “What is this? Are you perhaps another poor fool that that wench has seduced?”

Not one to be easily intimidated, Jean grabs the boy by his thick, curly locks and yanks his head back. “Everything Mikasa has ever gotten, she has gotten on her own. She doesn’t need to trick anyone for anything,” Jean snarls. He pulls back his hand and balls it into a fist, hitting the boy across the face with a loud crack.

Jean will admit that he is not the sharpest tool in the shed. If he were, he would not have felt compelled to fight two lowly squires over foolish gossip. Unfortunately, he is exactly that stupid, which is how he ends up getting held back and kicked over and over again in the stomach. Although he’s had far more combat training than most other squires his age, he cannot win a duel of numbers. Still, he does not regret his actions, feeling a sense of pride over that one lone punch he was able to throw even as his body is being brutally kicked.

The boys, of course, feel no remorse for their words. They only see a younger squire meddling with their conversation. Of course, that boy must be taught a lesson. Like the girl they had been so cruelly discussing, this boy must also be put in his place. It doesn’t matter that the way they do it is dishonorable - teaming up on a boy that is younger than them - but they see nothing wrong with that. They only want someone to push their frustrations onto, and Jean had conveniently volunteered himself with his outburst. Unfortunately, they are so preoccupied with venting their frustrations that they don’t notice the girl behind them.

Jean had been knocked nearly unconscious by that point, so he cannot completely recall what happened that time. All he can remember is that the boys were startled at someone else’s appearance. The last thing he recalls is his head hitting the floor as the two squires scrambled to escape. The other bits and pieces are what he collects from people afterward - that Mikasa had arrived and had knocked out the other boys senseless. He doesn’t have to have seen any of that to believe that it happened. He knows far too well what Mikasa is capable of.

When he finally awakens, he finds himself in the infirmary with a wet cloth pressed to his forehead. He turns slightly to see Mikasa beside him, dabbing gently at the wound on his head where he had hit the floor. She smiles at him gently and presses him back against the bed.

“You got into a fight,” she tells him.

He blinks at her, the only person who could have saved him. “So did you,” he says, “but you don’t seem to have a scratch on you.” His tone is a little jealous, but it’s tinged with admiration. That’s often the tone he takes when he speaks about her.

Mikasa shrugs. “You did most of the work.”

He knows for a fact that he didn’t, but he knows Mikasa will never admit to saving him. She’s never been one to brag about her accomplishments. Ah, but that’s just another one of the many things he admires about her.

After she’s satisfied with his wound, she places the rag she was using in a nearby basin. She looks at him, her gray eyes studying Jean carefully. “It was my fault that you got into that fight anyway,” she tells him.

“That’s not true,” Jean says. He tries to sit up, but a sharp, stabbing pain makes him clutch at his ribs. After he’s managed to catch his breath, he repeats, “I just … couldn’t stand what they were saying about you. But it’s not as if you need anyone to fight for your honor. I did it because it pissed me off. That’s all.”

“You needn’t mind what they say about me, Jean,��� she says. She picks at an invisible thread on her trousers, a somber expression on her face. “I know what they say about me. It doesn’t bother me one bit.”

“But it bothers me,” Jean snaps. Realizing that his tone is too harsh, he looks down at his lap and mumbles an apology. He shouldn’t be taking out his frustration on her. That would make him a hypocrite. He sighs, rubbing his face with a hand. “It’s not that I did it to protect you. I did it because … the words they said reminded me of things I used to say about you.” He hangs his head as he says this, but Mikasa is smiling.

“Is that so?” she asks. “But that was so long ago. We were practically children.”

It may have happened years ago, but Jean still remembers it as if it had happened yesterday. He was young - hardly even twelve years of age - and he was fuming because Mikasa was being appointed to squire even though she had only served as a page for three years. He had observed her over the years and knew she was talented and hardworking, but he couldn’t believe that she would be so talented as to become a squire in such a short amount of time. He was convinced that there was something else at play - favoritism because she hailed from House Ackerman, her special relationship with the Royal Family, her master going easy on her because she was a girl. Infuriated, he had confronted her, demanding that she prove herself by dueling him in a sword fight. It hadn’t even taken her five minutes to have him pinned to the ground, the heel of her boot digging into his chest and the tip of her sword pointed at his neck. He knew how much of a fool he had been as soon as she disarmed him, and he still regrets doubting her abilities.

“I was flattered thinking you fought them to defend my honor,” Mikasa says, interrupting Jean’s thoughts. “It felt a bit like I had my own shining knight, but perhaps I’m thinking too much of myself.”

Her words surprise him, although he’s not sure why. Perhaps it’s because it has never occurred to him that Mikasa would have such thoughts. He had assumed that she was too invested in her goals - working at the castle, becoming a knight, protecting the Royal Family - to think about such things, but maybe he had been wrong in that assumption just like he had been wrong to assume all those things he had thought about her so many years ago. She is a lot of things - strong, resilient, a knight-to-be - but she is also a girl, Jean remembers. It makes him want to protect her even more.

She is not wrong in thinking that he had fought those squires off for her. That had definitely been part of the reason after all, but he doubts that he can become any sort of knight to her. He doesn’t deserve that honor.

#jeankasa #asoiaf au #snk #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #requests #i need to think of a title for the entire series