#jeankasa drabble
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Jeankasa in pop terms | @jeankasachallenge
Jeankasa; Little woman inspired
"Don't marry him," Jean's words cut through the air with chilling clarity. Mikasa's heart lurches in her chest, and in her mind, a whirlwind of thoughts is unleashed. Why now? Why Jean, of all people, is saying this to her?
The atmosphere grows tense as silence hangs between them. The whisper of leaves rustled by the breeze seems to quiet in comparison to the emotions engulfing her. Mikasa, her gaze fixed on the ground, feels her heart pounding with an intensity that threatens to burst from her chest. Thoughts crowd her mind, an uncontrollable torrent of memories and reflections.
"What?" she says in a barely audible whisper, seeking confirmation, an explanation. But Jean's words are not ambiguous; they carry a meaning she fears understanding.
The distance between them shortens as Jean approaches.
"Don't marry Eren," he repeats.
"Why?" Mikasa watches Jean's eyes, searching for answers that have remained concealed until now.
"You know why," his response is gentle yet firm.
Incredulity dances in her eyes, her mind grappling to make sense of what's happening. No, this can't be real. Emotions within her stir. Her younger self would have reveled in this declaration, a romantic twist of fate. But in this very moment, it seems absurd, almost surreal.
She recalls the days of her childhood, when her heart raced at his mere presence, the affectionate gestures that initially made her fall for him, the shared smiles. How secretly she had longed for this moment since childhood when she looked at Jean with innocent and affectionate eyes. Even now, glimpses of the boy who once lived next door linger in her memory, interwoven with the man before her.
She feels a pang of pain in her chest as if something vital is being torn apart within her.
"No, no," she whispers as if denying it could reverse the turn of events.
"Yes," his voice expresses conviction, unyielding in its insistence.
Jean extends his hand toward her, attempting to touch the soft skin of her cheek. But Mikasa retreats, as if his touch were an invisible burn. Tears finally spill over, streaming down her cheeks. The pain in her chest is tangible as if a part of her being is slowly being torn away.
"You're being cruel," she murmurs with a voice fractured by emotion.
The accumulated pain of years, the feelings she had tried to ignore and forget, all surge with force. Tears trace paths down her face as she struggles to maintain her composure. She had thought that when she left for Europe with her Aunt Kiyomi, she could finally leave behind these emotions that had tormented her. But here she is again, facing the same feelings for the man who was once her secret longing.
"What? How am I being cruel?" Jean questions, his voice slightly faltering.
Mikasa inhales deeply, her heart now spinning in a whirlwind of affection for a man who once felt affection for her sister. The situation feels like a tasteless joke, a cruel twist of fate. Did he truly believe that she could be a substitute, a consolation prize just because Pieck had rejected him? The struggle between pain, anger, and betrayal boils within her. Did he think she would simply run into his arms the moment he asked her not to marry Eren?
The weight of her affection for him is undeniable, but that doesn't mean she's willing to be used as a replacement for her sister, a stand-in for unrequited love.
All the pain she had harbored for so long rises from the depths of her past, accumulating in her throat until it's finally released, unleashing a flood of emotions she had tried to suppress for so long.
"I've been second to Pieck my whole life, and I won't be the person you settle for just because you can't have her. I won't do it, I won't."
The weight of her revelation hangs in the air, a raw vulnerability exposed. The pain in Mikasa's heart, her frustration, and her unwavering affection, all spill out in a torrent of words, painting a vivid canvas of emotions that can no longer be contained.
The fragile threads of her composure unravel.
"Not when I've spent my entire life loving you."
#jkinpopterms#jeankasa#mikasa ackerman#jean kirstein#jeankasa drabble#jeankasa; little woman fusion#jeankasa fic#jeankasa edit#anime#aot#shingeki no kyojin#*my edit#*my writing#i dont really like amy that much#but i like the idea of this scene being jk#jeankasa event#my writing: jeankasa
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Krikkit Sunshine of my life 🌞❤️
How are you today ?
You know how much I love the way you write kisses, so my prompt is "Interrupted" !!😘
Kith ❤️❤️
thank you for the prompt babe, as always i'm very sorry it took me days (weeks? i think probably weeks....) to fill it 🫣🫣
i hope you'll enjoy this anyway!! 😘♥️
Almost kissing meme: Interrupted
Tags: cabin in the woods, post canon, levihan, jeankasa, jeankasa's kid, squad denial
edited version now on ao3
"There you go, sweetie! All ready," Mikasa declares as she closes the last button on her daughter's coat.
"Mama, why are we going to Uncle Levi's again?"
Jean frowns and sends a puzzled look her way, but Mikasa's just as confused.
"You don't want to go?" he asks.
"I do! I want to hear the rest of that story he started. But I thought I had to wait for special Sundays to see him, and today is..."
"Wednesday, right. Well, today is a special day, and we want to be there for him," Mikasa explains.
And how special today is indeed.
It's been exactly six months since Levi left his former living arrangements with Onyankopon and the Marley kids to move back to Paradis, with no explanation given to anyone about it. Half a year since he's been living as a recluse in the woods, half a year since he's been assuring everyone that he just needs some distance and everyone decided to go along with it because it was apparently such a Levi thing to do. Everyone except Mikasa who, with Jean's help, has made him agree to monthly visits so far.
But today marks the anniversary of the battle of Shiganshina, and she's decided to make Levi attend- well no, that's not how Jean ha dphrased it. To invite Levi over to the yearly reunion the surviving Scouts of that event have held since the war ended. He's never agreed to come the preivous years, but she suspects Onyankopon didn't insist much on it and she's never had the chance to invite him directly.
Armin suggested leaving him alone like he requested when she mentioned it, but Mikasa's chosen to ignore his point of view -she's tired of people enabling Levi's unhealthy whims when they're not permanently around to see him closing in on himself and getting worse. Jean pretended he was only on board because he has to as her husband, but Mikasa knows he's concerned as well. She's seen him frown over the cheery -in a Levi fashion, but still- front he's putting on that's gotten creepily convincing lately, and they've discussed the odd fact that he always seems reluctant to stay indoor and insists they go out to enjoy the weather instead -even that day it rained so much the porch got soaked and they had to practically beg him to get back inside. There's also that moment he grew even paler than his natural complexion the last time they came over, when Jean spotted a black jacket thrown over his couch and made a joke about Levi finally letting loose and allowing himself to be a little messy, and the former Captain had looked freaked out for a while after that.
She only gets a contemplative hum from hee daughter in reply, and the journey to Levi's hermit hut is oddly silent. Until the yellow front door appears between thick tree trunks, and Mikasa's hand suddenly feels empty as little legs rush their way into Levi's home without awaiting her parents' arrival.
"Do you think she'll ever manage to learn when to knock?" Jean asks around a smile as they reach the steps.
Before Mikasa replies, a familiar head pops back out of the house.
"Mama, who's that kissing Uncle Levi?"
Mikasa shares a half surpeised, half saddened look with Jean, knowing they're both thinking of the one and only name they could have ever imagined saying in response to that question, and she readies herself to scold the little one and dissipate the misunderstanding.
But just as she passes the threshold, she comes face to face with the familiar sight of Levi's living room, and the very unfamiliar sight of two blushing people including her cousin and former Captain.
It takes her a while to recognize the other person, but after the initial shock, there's no denying it. The tall and lanky figure that abruptly stands up from the couch -and Levi's lap, evidently- the brown messy hair, the milky white iris of a blind left eye behind askew glasses. The seemingly thousand of burn scars all over their face and exposed body make up as much of a challenge as they are a clue to identify them, and the comforting affection in that one caramel-colored eye as it lands on Mikasa's family is unmistakably theirs.
"Hange-san?" Jean whispers.
He sounds uncertain and scared and small, so unlike himself Mikasa wonders if he's really the one who just spoke. She remembers their mixed screams and tears as they'd seen Hange leap to their death that fateful day, remembers falling to her knees with sobs wracking her body while she mourned her Commander for the brief moments she was allowed to, and she admires her husband for being able to speak because she can't find her own voice right now.
Hange, because that's them even if her brain's having trouble reconciling that reality with those memories, that is them standing in the middle of this messy and oddly decorated room in that tiny cabin lost in the largest forest of all that damned island, Hange smiles a warm and bright smile their way, nodding shortly before they drop to their knees and turn their attention fully to the youngest person in the room.
"By the Walls," they squeal, their own voice rougher and more cracked than Mikasa remembers, "you must be Jean and Mikasa's baby, right?"
Her child frowns as she takes Hange in, turning to her parents for guidance, and somehow Mikasa manages to allow a soft smile to show on her features.
"It's alright, Zoë, you can go ahead and answer," she says with an encouraging nod.
Hange doesn't appear surprised at the name, but their fidgetting hands and the way their eye suddenly explores every direction but the one of Levi's unexpected guests betrays just how awkward it is for them to hear it.
"You're wrong. I'm not a baby anymore," Zoë declares proudly as she takes one brave step towards this stranger, arms crossed over her chest.
Hange lets out a chuckle at that announcement and the confidence in it, before their smile starts looking a little stilted.
"No, you aren't, my bad. You're all grown up now," they note, a distinct regretful edge to their tone.
But Zoë doesn't pick up on it, and she speaks again before Mikasa can prevent it.
"Who are you, and what's wrong with your face?"
Mikasa's heart stops and she curses inwardly as she remembers the precaution they'd taken about explaining her and Jean's scars, as well as Levi's specific ones to Zoë early on. Like many children born after the war, she's familiar with the sight of healed penetrative wounds or missing limbs, and she's used to the way Levi limps after too many hours standing up, but she's never encountered someone with burns scars as extensive as Hange's.
Jean cringes as well, his feet carrying him closer to them just as Levi stands up from the couch and clears his throat.
"Zoë, you can't just-
"It's fine, guys, she's allowed to ask questions! Curiosity should always be encouraged," the former Commander says, not quite meeting Jean's eyes even as they reassure him. "My name is Hange, and my... my face looks like this because I got badly burnt during a battle."
Mikasa doesn't need to see her face to know Zoë's eyes lit up at that last word.
"Ohhh you were a soldier too?" she asks excitedly, eagerly walking closer and inspecting their exposed skin even more openly now.
Hange nods with a soft smile, leaning forward to allow Zoë to touch their face.
"Gentle, Zo," Mikasa reminds her.
Hange looks up, opening their mouth as if to thank her for the warning, but averts their eye almost immediately. It breaks something new in Mikasa's heart, the shame and discomfort Hange seems to feel towards her and Jean, and the only reason she doesn't have to stop herself from demanding an explanation is that she's still questioning her own brain too much right now to do so.
Zoë's taking up all of Hange's focus anyway, carefully touching their skin, their curious hands softly tracing the scars on their face and neck, and Mikasa feels... envious. This already fucked up day is turning into the weirdest dream she's had in a while, and she wouldn't mind getting to touch Hange too and make sure she's not a fucking ghost or hallucination.
Levi gestures over to her like he's read her thoughts, annoyingly pointing towards the kitchen like he wants to give the two newly acquainted pair some space.
"It's softer than it looks," Zoë observes, her tiny voice barely above a whisper, freezing Levi to his spot as he was starting to head to the other room. "Will it stay like that?"
"Well, it's still healing," Hange explains, "but I'll always look.. it's not going to get much prettier, no."
"Hmm. Hange, can I ask something else?"
"Sure, Z-Zoë," they try, their tongue stumbling over the name.
"Can I ask why you were kissing Uncle Levi?"
Hange's face turns beet red once more, and Levi coughs as he chokes on his own saliva.
"I wasn't kissing him, actually," they start in their best, almost familiar diplomatic tone, "because you came running into the room when it was about to happen."
"Oh. I forgot to knock," Zoë realizes, shooting a sheepish glance her parents' way.
"It's alright, I was never great at it either. Do you want some tea?" Hange asks, opening their arms.
"Sure!" Zoë replies, throwing herself in their embrace and letting them carry her up. "Uncle Levi always has new flavours!"
"I know! Come on, let's find one you haven't tried before."
They walk off chattering, and there's an akmost awkward silence in the room suddenly.
"I know what you're here to ask, but you could have called before barging in, you know," Levi reproaches as soon as Hange's out of earshot, although it sounds almost playful. "I have a landline in here."
"And you could have called when Hange came back from the fucking dead. How long have you known?" Mikasa spits out, unable to restrain herself any longer.
She can't find it in her to be mad at Hange, can't sort through everything seeing them makes her feel and pick something as petty as anger to focus on here and now.
Anger at Levi, though, that's something she can handle. Something she's comfortable with, even, and if the bored, nonplussed glance he shoots her way is any indication, he is as well. It doesn't stop Jean from reaching out and holding her hand, grounding her efficiently as always.
"Six months and one week," Levi simply replies, his eye wandering around the house he -they, Mikasa mentally corrects- moved into then, before settling on Hange. "I couldn't... They said they weren't ready to see you guys yet."
The three former Scouts look on at the surreal spectacle that is Hange perching Zoë on their shoulders as they help her pick a beverage, the two of them giggling like they've known each other for months.
"So that's what you were up to this whole time hiding out here, huh? Having secret make out sessions with the Scouts 14th Commander?" Jean asks playfully, his voice mostly back to its usual self now.
Levi raises an eyebrow at him, before his lips curve up the way Mikasa hasn't witnessed in a long, long while.
"That would have been the first time, actually," he mumbles, heat sprinkling color over his cheeks again. "Hey, four-eyes, no, that's the coffee stash. You can't give coffee to a child!"
Hange and Zoë both argue with him as he walks over to join them, and laugh at his expense when their combined height keep the forbidden item away from his reach.
"What do you think Armin and Conny are going to find harder to believe; Hange being alive, or the fact that Levi and them have never even smooched before?"
Mikasa shakes her head and chuckles.
"I guess we'll find out tonight," she replies with a wink.
.
totally stole the first name idea from this adorable fanart
#snk fanfic#snk drabble#shingeki no kyojin#levihan#levi ackerman#mikasa ackerman#jeankasa's kid#hange zoë#this is the first time i write jeankasa#v insecure about it!!#post canon snk#my stuff#asks#mutuals#youre ackermine#squad denial#fix it fic#jean kirstein
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Hey Terra! Hope you are well ☺️ for drunk drabbles 2.0, can you do number 13 pleeeease 🥺💕
Drunk Drabbles
13: “Don’t move.”
Wish
Characters: One-sided Jeankasa
Word Count: 345 words
Darkness had descended over the narrow streets of Trost. Flickering torches threw their light upon immense walls of sandstone brick whilst shadows pooled in the recesses. After a long night of feasting, the Scouts’ District Branch Mess Hall was emptying. Recruits both young and old stumbled over the cobblestones as they navigated their way back to the barracks. Lines of soldiers clung to each other’s shoulders, swaying as they moved. One individual was retching upon someone’s doorstep. Another grinned foolishly into the half-full tankard he had swiped, slopping the remaining contents of it over his shoes.
Mikasa Ackerman stood gazing out over a river of ink, arms folded about her. A breeze stirred her short, black hair. She placed a hand to the back of her neck, covering skin which was usually concealed in the warmth of her red, woollen scarf.
As she began descending the stone steps, to where the water lay dark and silent, Mikasa was alerted to a presence behind her.
“Hey!”
Turning, she came face to face with Jean. He stopped short so that the two of them were standing one step apart. His eyes flicked from Mikasa’s own to her brow, then to the lower part of her face as though he was mapping each of her features in turn.
“Hold on. Don’t move.” Mikasa obliged as Jean reached towards her cheek. She felt the back of his finger brush her skin. The next moment he presented her with a fallen eyelash.
“I think you’re supposed to make a wish, right?”
Mikasa regarded him solemnly. Lips slightly pursed, she leaned forwards and blew the tiny strand away into the night air. Jean stood, his finger still outstretched, as though waiting for some divine presence to make itself known. With the world unchanged, Mikasa’s jaw tensed. Eyelids lowered, she gazed at him with something akin to disappointment.
“It didn’t work,” she sighed at last. “You’re still here.”
#drunk drabbles#still taking requests#one-sided Jeankasa#it's okay she just has stuff going on#at least he’s still got Connie#why do I always end up roasting Jean in these?#jean kirstein#mikasa ackerman#mikasa x jean#jeankasa#sort of#attack on titan#snk#aot drabbles#my writing
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One month before their second year anniversary Jean impulsively bought an engagement ring from a jewelry store in the continent. He went inside the store just to buy her necklace for their anniversary. He took one look at the variety of engagement and without thinking asked the clerk if he could see some of them. He left the store with a necklace and the ring.
Jean walked the streets while looking at the ring in the marron box. He smiles while thinking how it would fit perfectly on Mikasa’s ring, like a glove.
What if she doesn’t want to marry you?
A voice whispered in the back of his head. He stopped, he felt cold, like someone just dropped a cold bucket of ice water on him.
That feeling prolonged even when he reached his hotel room he laid on the bed and clutched the marron box to his chest.
The voice continued.
What if she doesn’t love you?
No.
He shakes his head and continues walking
The first ‘I love you’ that came out of her mouth was shy, scared to say it because she’s afraid of losing another love. She told him that after she said it for the first time.
He remembers the look on her face when she said it for the first time. The fear and love on her face was so beautiful and heartbreaking. He just held her to his chest and said that he loved her and that he would always be with her.
What if she doesn’t want to get married?
That made him rethink a lot of things and cursed because they never talk in depth about it. It was their first actual relationship in their lives. So many things were new to them.
What if she says yes but will regret it afterwards?
What if she goes ahead and marries you but regrets it years later?
What if one day you wake up and she’s no longer there? In her place there is only the engagement ring and wedding ring that you gave her.
What if you have children and she regrets them because they are not his?
What if your children end up hating you and leave you?
You’re going to end up all alone because you pushed Mikasa into something she wasn’t ready for and only said yes because she felt sorry for you.
He groaned and threw the box across the room in frustration. The ring made a loud sound as it rolled on the floor. He covered his ears and begged the voice inside his head to shut.
She loves me.
She has always been honest to me.
She 's not cruel.
She’s everything but cruel.
After he calmed down, he picked up the box and the ring and put it in his jacket pocket.
…
When the ferry lands on the port he is shocked to see her there waiting for him.
Like always, she takes his breath away. It was summer and she was wearing an orange summer dress with white flower designs and her hair was half tied up.
She waves when she spots him.
In his pocket the maroon box weighted him down like an anchor.
“JEAN!”
She runs to him and he meets her halfway in. He puts his arms around her waist and twirls her around. Two lovers reunited after being apart for so long.
…
On their second anniversary, Jean just gives the necklace he brought.
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After a Long Day
Summary: After a long day of working, a little private and family time are all Jean needs.
Rating: T for nudity
Pairing: Jeankasa
Author's Note: So...I noted in "Beyond the Tree on That Hill" that I was not entirely pro-Jeankasa but liked to read fanfiction and look at fanart. Well...now it's become my OTP, especially factoring in his character development throughout the series! I definitely have more drabbles coming, but this one took only an hour to write.
At last, the day was over. No more paperwork, or catching up on current events. No more writing letters to schedule appointments with overseas officials, or reading up on politics. No more reflecting on past pilgrimages, or reading up on notes from his fellow ambassadors from their previous posts, for future meetings. It was time to call it a day.
After a nice, hot dinner with his family, Jean eagerly hurried to the bathroom blessed with indoor plumbing, turned on the phonograph, took off his clothes, and dipped himself into a hot bath. Leaning his head back over the edge of the tub, draping his arms over the smooth sides, and parting his legs helped him release the stress from his body. For some reason, he felt like he could breathe easier as though the hot water was like a sponge absorbing all the tension. He kept his eyes closed for two minutes, slid his head into the water, and pushed himself up to wipe his face.
He swung his legs side to side, alternating between hitting his knees or moving them together. Making himself relax was itself stressful, but the music really helped. He didn’t know the music or composer, just that the genre was called jazz, but he didn’t really care to know the details. It was just something he knew about because Nicolo had the music player at his restaurant and played jazz for private dinner parties. Jean ignored the chill over his wet skin and watched his bent legs move along to the music.
Knock, knock.
“Jean?”
Only two people would be forgiven for interrupting his private time. He smiled without looking up. “Yes?”
“May I come in?”
Jean pulled apart his legs again and struggled to not smile. “Yes, you may.”
Mikasa–his darling Mikasa, his beautiful wife of three years–walked into the bathroom and hurried to the sink. “How are you feeling? Better?”
“Much,” he sighed. He hung his head back again. “Care to join me?”
Mikasa huffed, though he barely heard it over the running sinkwater. “Maybe later.” After she dried her hands, she walked to the back of the tub and, to Jean’s surprise but overall delight, knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Jean moved his head to touch her shoulder and breathed in her sweet scent. “Better?”
“Much more,” Jean sighed. Her touch was like magic in healing him. She didn’t care that his wet hair was making her clothing wet. One hand drifted over his bare chest and stroked both sides of his collarbone. “I could stay like this forever.”
Mikasa kissed his cheek. “So could I.” She grabbed the shampoo bar and ran the square over his head. Jean tilted his head so she could lather the shampoo throughout every inch of his hair, including his nape and behind his ears. Jean remembered when they were first married, how they used to take baths together and wash each other’s hair out of the love they had for each other.
Now, he had an even greater reason to love her.
Mikasa took her time with his crown and temples, her fingers massaging his scalp and quick to prevent anything going into his ear. Jean stared at the phonograph playing music and closed his eyes with a smile. He needed to close every day, good and bad, like this. His wife moved her hand, tickled his throat, and snaked down his chest, ribcage, and abdomen to finger the small hairs under his abdomen.
Jean chuckled and slightly shivered at her gentle, ticklish touch. “That felt nice,” he said seductively. He received a kiss on the cheek and more tender strokes over the hairs around his more intimate region. Reluctantly, he pinched his nose and slid his head underwater one more time, where she helped him rinse the suds from his locks.
When Jean sat back up, Mikasa patted his hair dry and folded her hands over his heart. “Are you truly happy with your life, Jean?” she asked. “I know today was a stressful day for you.”
“I am,” he said, “but yes, I was ready to be done.” Jean lowered himself into the bath water and stared ahead. “It’s not that all this research is burning me out, but…” He closed his eyes. “I had no idea it would be so hard thinking of compromises when you’re meeting with two countries at war with each other. It seems like every time you come up with a good idea, it could jeopardize even part of the other country’s economy somehow, or it violates their law in another way.”
Mikasa pouted, something she rarely did unless she, too, could understand the challenge of avoiding catch-22s in peace negotiations. “I don’t know how to help, though,” she said.
“You are now,” he whispered, “by being here…but it would be nicer…if you took off your clothes and came in and let me love you up–”
She interrupted him with a kiss beside his eye but was giggling. She smoothed her hands down his arms to lace her fingers between his. He folded his arms so both pairs of hands were crossed over his chest and turned his head. She kissed him, first gently and then with more intensity.
Jean kissed back just as hard. He could never tire of kissing her. He kissed her even when she was sick. Every kiss was a promise that more would follow, in good and bad times. He freed his right hand from hers so he could cup her face and deepen the kiss. With her left, she pulled his face to hers, sucking on his lips like they were a juicy fruit. Jean wondered if she suspected how hard he was becoming and that a familiar tugging was growing between his legs.
A loud wail broke apart the couple and shifted them into parent mode. “She’s hungry,” said Mikasa. “I can tell.”
Jean chuckled. “Nine months in you, and you can tell when she’s too warm, too cold, or too tired. Heck, I still can’t believe you can be in a different room from her and know when she needs changing.”
Mikasa, chuckling, reluctantly stood up and left the bathroom. Jean had one minute to himself and the music, and then she returned with her blouse untucked and her baby girl at her breast. No matter what mood he was in, Jean never felt anything other than pure delight to see the one person he loved more than anything else in the world.
Mikasa hummed to baby Sasha for five minutes until she stopped eating, and propped her onto her shoulder to pat her back. Jean smiled watching Sasha turn her head and flex her fingers until she let out a soft belch. “Want to say hi to Papa?” Mikasa whispered. Immediately, Sasha lifted her head, and when she saw Papa, she held out her arms to the man in the bathtub.
Jean happily took her after Mikasa stripped off the baby’s clothes and diaper, and held her up so that her feet touched his chest. “Yes, baby,” he cooed, “even Papa needs bathtime, but not as often as you, because you soil and spit over your clothes every day.”
Sasha, who was already showing signs of her first teeth coming in, still stuck out her tongue between her gums in a smile, like she knew what he was saying. Jean lowered Sasha into the water up to her navel, and then back on her feet onto his chest. He kissed her cheeks and whispered how much he loved her that he didn’t even pay attention to his wife until he heard a splash. She had already disrobed and seated across from him in the tub, her bent legs together. Jean’s smile widen. “At last, you decided to come in.”
Mikasa rolled her eyes, blushing. “She did spit milk over my blouse, so I might as well.” She hugged her legs and watched Jean plant kisses to Sasha’s tiny stomach, the inside of her forearm, and the back of her hand. Watching a father give love to his child warmed Mikasa every time, but seeing the way Jean fussed over and dote on their little girl, their Sasha, made her want to cry in delight.
Normally, Sasha hated bathtime, but she happily splashed her hands into the surface and kicked water to her father’s shoulders. Jean noisily kissed her cheeks to increase her laughter and pulled her up and down into the bath. “We haven’t even had a whole year with you, Sasha,” he said, “but I think I know now the best way to make sure you don’t whine when it’s bathtime. Of course, your mama and I will find out how to make it easier when you’re a little older and more bratty, but we will still love you with all our hearts, and more than anything else in the world.”
Sasha giggled, but then her smile fell. Her eyes crinkled like she was ready to cry.
“She’s hungry again,” Mikasa easily detected. She reached for their baby and sat up to easily guide Sasha’s mouth without dipping her ear under the water. Every time Jean watched his wife nurse their daughter, he noticed that she herself made a face like she was on the verge of tears, like it was the most beautiful way to bond a mother and baby.
“Stay right there,” said Jean. “I’ll be right back.”
Mikasa watched him stand up from the tub (and always admired how fit and toned his naked body was), dry himself, wrap the towel around his waist, and leave the bathroom. He came back with his sketchbook and charcoal.
“Aren’t you–”
“It shouldn’t get wet,” he reassured her. “I’ll put it away when she starts kicking.” Jean quickly opened to a blank page and stole every detail he could, from the reflection of his wife’s knees in the water, to the curl of Sasha’s fingers, how Sasha’s cowlicks hid her face except the roundness of her cheek, and the adoration on Mikasa’s face when she studied her daughter.
Sasha finished before Jean was completely done, but he finished what he knew from memory as Mikasa patted her back. This time, after Sasha belched (and drooled out a little milk), she nuzzled her face into her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. Jean had enough space on his page to bring to life what he saw but did not want to commemorate with a camera.
Mikasa waited for Jean to finish to reluctantly stand up, dry herself one handedly with a towel, let her husband tuck it around her hips, and carry the baby back to her nursery. Jean used this opportunity to drain the lukewarm water and pour in clean water, with a scrubbing of soap for bubbles. When Mikasa came back, she discarded the towel and sat across from him again.
It seemed so long ago, Jean reflected, when he was first attracted to her with all of that long, beautiful black hair and was devastated when she agreed to cut it off. Now, her hair was longer, and he was even more in love with her now. She never tired of hearing him say, “Having Sasha made me fall even more in love with you. I didn’t know how much I could love you more than romantically until I watched you go through labor and give birth.” Of course, Jean had no idea how much he could love or give love until the very moment that Sasha was born. He could only attribute that to the warrior woman across from him, tired from breastfeeding but happy to resume time alone with her husband.
Jean kissed her knee and stroked the cap under it. “I’m always telling you how much I love you, how you and Sasha are the most important things in the world and in my life.”
“Yes.” When she reached forward to stroke his wet hair farther from his forehead, he kissed her skin.
“Well, you have no idea how important you two are to me, how you both make me feel after long, stressful days like today.” He kissed her knee again and decided to peck down her shin later that night in the comfort and protection of their bedsheets. “At the end of the day, I remember why I’m doing this and not letting your embroidery become our sole source of income–so that you and I can watch Sasha grow up healthy and happy, no threat to her life or future, and maybe give her little brothers and sisters, in a peaceful island.”
Jean leaned over Mikasa’s knees, put his hands on either side of her, and kissed her. “Then you and I can continue to live in peace, and we can grow old and pass the same, after a long, good life after everything.”
He noticed that her small smile grew wider. “That’s a future that I want to work for as well,” she agreed. “I would be happy to spend the rest of my life and my bed with you.” She put her hands on either side of his face to kiss him deeper; he gently put his hands on her arms. Jean didn’t know if they were going to make love later, either right there in the tub or within their sheets, but he did not want the night to end.
#jean kirschtein#jean kirstein#mikasa ackerman#jeankasa#mikasa x jean#jeanmika#mikajean#fanfiction#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin
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Pickalily's JeanKasa Masterpost
A masterpost of my JeanKasa fics and drabbles. Will be updated accordingly ♪(´▽｀)
Across the Ocean to See You
Canonverse. One shot. Jean crosses the ocean to see Mikasa.
Break My Heart Again
Canonverse. One shot. Jean loves her no matter how much it breaks his heart.
Enough
Canonverse. One shot. Jean doesn't want much for her. Even a little bit of her time would be enough.
Fall Apart
Canonverse. One shot. Mikasa has never let herself fall apart, but even the strongest soldiers fall sometimes.
I Don't Want to Break Your Heart
Canonverse. One shot. Mikasa knows how fragile the heart is. Jean is willing to take all the risks despite that.
Let Her Go
Canonverse. One shot. Eren's perspective on Jean and Mikasa's relationship.
Love Makes You Stupid
Canonverse. One shot. Sasha helps Jean calm his nerves before his big day.
Pull Me In Close and Don't Let Go
Canonverse. NSFW. One shot. Jean and Mikasa go swimming in the lake.
Slipping Through My Fingers
Canonverse. One shot. As Mikasa falls apart, Jean does his best to comfort her.
Take Care of You
Canonverse. One shot. Mikasa picks up her three drunk friends from a bar. Jean is particularly affectionate.
To Love and Be Loved
Canonverse. One shot. Mikasa has always kept Jean at arm's width. Jean's love is a little more stubborn than that.
Welcome Home
Canonverse. One shot. Jean welcomes Mikasa home after the war.
What I Want to Say
Canonverse. One shot. During a quiet moment, Jean takes the opportunity to say what he has always wanted to say.
Who I Wanted to Be and Who You Are
Canonverse. One shot. With Jean, she can be everything she wants to be. With Jean, she becomes someone she cannot be.
⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧
Selfish
Canon Divergent. One shot. Mikasa doesn’t need love. She doesn’t even want it, really, but sometimes in the middle of the night when she’s lying wide awake with only her lonely thoughts to keep herself company … she yearns for it.
⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧
A Shining Knight
ASOIAF AU. One shot. 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.
New Girl
Avengers AU. One shot. Balancing adolescence with crime-fighting would be difficult for any teenager. At least the new girl makes things a bit more bearable.
Tension
Ballet AU. “Delivery,” Jean calls, knocking at the door. He hears a muffled voice reply, “Coming!” and he leans back against the doorframe as he waits to be let in. He raises an eyebrow when the door finally opens. Jean dangles a bag, a carton of ice cream inside of it, in front of his friend’s face. “I thought you could use something nice to eat.”
Real Beauty
Celebrity AU. One shot. Jean is granted permission to shoot photos of the elusive celebrity Mikasa Ackerman.
After You
Coffee Shop AU. One shot. Jean and Annie convince each other to ask out their respective crushes. After the other person goes first, of course.
Indirect Kiss
College AU. One shot. Jean mixes tequila into his hot chocolate. Mikasa thinks it's ... an interesting combination, to say the least.
A Way to Say I Love You
Modern AU. One shot. They say there are five love languages. Jean is pretty sure that feeding your partner strange snacks is another one.
We Broke Up Series
1 | 2. Post Break-Up AU. Jean and Mikasa has broken up, but that doesn't mean their love is gone.
Muse
Reincarnation AU. One shot. Jean paints her over and over again, the woman who has haunted him even in his dreams.
What Was Lost
Reincarnation AU. One shot. In another life, maybe they can find happiness together.
I Find out My Crush Is a Mob Boss’ Daughter
Shoujo Manga AU. One shot. Mikasa Ackerman is eating alone again. It’s been this way since the beginning of the school year. When Jean had first enrolled in Rose Academy, a private high school known for its rigorous education system, Mikasa was the first person he had noticed. It was not the shiny, black limousine nor the suited bodyguards that accompanied the first-year girl to the gate that caught Jean’s attention, although those things certainly did help. Rather, it was the way Mikasa carried herself, her head held high with a mature expression of someone well beyond her years, that intrigued Jean.
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Prompt: Niccosasha and Jeankasa double date!
Me: *slapping the top of my Grad School AU* this beauty can hold so many drabbles!
The truth is that Mikasa doesn't know Niccolo too well, but that in itself is not a bad thing. She tries to view the evening as an opportunity for change, as on top of making new friends in the city, it's a chance to get to know her roommate's boyfriend. It's also a good break from the never-ending pain that is graduate studies, but that's beside the point.
So as Mikasa helps him in the kitchen on a Friday night, she tries to think of what she does know about the guy. Like her he comes from outside of Montreal, him from Toronto and her from Vancouver. She knows he's a sous chef at some expensive hipster restaurant in Mile End, a position that takes up most of his time and leaves little for his significant other, but somehow he and Sasha make it work. She also knows that he's on fairly good terms with Jean, though she's unsure if the two had struck up a friendship before Niccolo began dating Sasha or after.
Nonetheless, the facts both assure Mikasa that Niccolo is no stranger, yet reminds her that she's slightly removed from the predefined dynamics of the young adults in the apartment.
At least when Niccolo pops over to her side of the counter and observes the way she slices onions, he seems to approve of her handiwork.
"Look at that," he lauds with a friendly smile. "You're a natural."
"Thank you," Mikasa says in response. "My Auntie always made me help her in the kitchen. Picked up a few things on the way."
Niccolo nods his head. "Yeah, I can tell."
Then not a moment too soon he returns to his side of the space. After Mikasa places another handful of paper-thin onion slices into a salad bowl, she glances over to the stove that Niccolo has been slaving over. At this point he's finally added the cooked pasta to the shrimp scampi, and now his priority lies with stirring both elements together in beautiful harmony. He puts such an expert touch into a dish that's probably rudimentary in comparison to his skillset, yet no one in the apartment seems to be complaining.
As the two continue to work on dinner, Mikasa looks across the living space at the other young adults in the apartment. Sasha and Jean seem content to chillax on the couch as their significant others take care of dinner, a privilege they could enjoy on the virtue of them paying for the ingredients needed for the meal. Playing on the television is a hockey game, but for once the two are not focused on the sport of frigid puck-chasing — instead they appear to be engaged in a conversation that teeters between a passionate debate and an argument.
Apparently, French appears to be the language that the two friends prefer to use when speaking energetically, and it's moments like this when Mikasa is reminded that like her, Niccolo is still relatively new to Montreal, meaning that his grasp on the local language is possibly at the same level as hers. That level being "can order food, can't hold a deep conversation."
Mikasa listens to the brassy francophones argue, every once in a while they'll throw in a dash of English, the most current one involving Sasha dramatically exclaiming that Jean stop denying the truth. It makes Mikasa recall the few times she had joined Sasha on an Among Us night, as Sasha's only method of discovering the imposter involves the Bad Cop part of a Good Cop/Bad Cop routine.
"Do you happen to know what they're talking about?" Mikasa asks as she begins adding arugula to the salad bowl.
Niccolo doesn't look away from his pan. "Uh... figure skating, I believe."
Mikasa raises an eyebrow. In hindsight she should have guessed it, as what other conversation can include the words "lutz" and "flip" and "flutz" in the same sentence.
"Are arguments about skating usually that intense?" Mikasa asks.
The laugh that Niccolo lets out is playful, yet imbued with the slightest sense of unease. "It is for them."
#jeankasa#nicosasha#jeanmika#niccosasha#mikasa ackerman#jean kirschtein#jean kirstein#sasha braus#sasha blouse#niccolo snk#modern au#grad school au#ask box memes
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I hate Jeankasa and will actively start picketing if it happens. However jeankasa cameo might be your villain origin story that finally pushes you over the edge to write eremika cheating fic!!!! Mikasa willingly cucking Jean!!! Eren knowing all too well what he’s doing with married Mikasa YESSSS cucking
bro its already begun, I wrote a cucking drabble on my other blog the other day and the current progression of my fic is just MEAN TOWARDS JEAN MWAHAHAHAHHA !!!! like im in my hate jean era now !! tbh i might go respond to one of these jean hate asks with a drabble rn IM ALL FIRED UP!! !
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💔 Is there a fic of yours(or any other) that broke your heart?
✅ , and i really thought a lot about this one,
Would you prefer a happy ending, a sad ending or a bitter sweet/ambiguous type ending. (Not just in fics, movies, books or anything)
Me personally am never a big fan of happy ending, i love if it goes with the plot and characters otherwise i always find them cooked up..idk why.💀
and i really am a big fan of bitter sweet/ambiguous ending (a reason for my recent obsession with Korean movies..ugg it's so good i can't lie)..i feel like it's more powerful when used properly .
💔 Is there a fic that broke your heart?
i actually have an eren/armin jean/armin fic that i think is really heartbreaking but i don't know how to finish it
i mentioned this a few days ago but there are two future chapters of tbaw that absolutely shattered my heart 😭 i can't wait for you guys to see them
for someone else's fic, this one devastated me recently! it's a blue lock sae itoshi/reader fic.
this fic also devasted me, it's porco/reader
and this jeankasa fic ruined me 😫 but warning this has major manga ending spoilers
✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?
i've previously answered this here but i thought of another one!
i will often write repetitive sentence fragments. like i did it in my most recent lil jean angst drabble where i'm like "You said he was always angry with you — always picking fights. You said that kissing him didn’t feel the same. You said that it was obvious he stopped trying."
I don't do this intentionally, it just kinda happens 🤷♀️ sometimes i cut it out if i feel like it doesn't flow the way i want it to, but a lot of times i leave it
⚖️ happy, sad, or bittersweet/ambiguous ending?
(i made up an emoji for this question so the questions would match aesthetically 💀)
but!! i love sad/emotionally gutting endings the best. like i'm talking The Mist movie ending, Black Mirror episode Shut up and Dance, Flowers for Algernon-type endings!! if a piece of media can leave me feeling emotionally devastated and thinking about it for weeks -- that's the ideal ending 😭
for my writing, personally, i prefer bittersweet/ambiguous endings because i feel like it's the most realistic
👀 also hook me up w some good korean movies!!
asks game questions
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The mission outside the walls is more intense than expected. The Titans in that area are more aggressive and numerous, prompting the commander to make the decision to order an early return to headquarters. As they venture into a forest, the rain begins to fall, turning the terrain slippery. Visibility is significantly reduced, making the task of keeping the Titans at bay even more challenging.
Amidst the chaos and torrential rain, an abnormal emerges out of nowhere, cornering them. Mikasa reacts quickly, facing and distracting it while Jean and the others escape. But before they can retreat, the Titan lunges at them, causing them to stagger. Jean struggles to maintain balance on the muddy ground as Mikasa quickly rises to confront the Titan once more.
Jean's concern for Mikasa's safety compels him to act without a second thought. He quickly gets up, his body aching from the impact under the torrential rain. He pushes his way towards her, trying to stand firm amidst the challenging conditions.
Despite the difficulty, his determination strengthens as he sees Mikasa in danger.
As he approaches the Titan, each movement with the maneuver gear becomes heavier and more complicated due to the muddy and slippery terrain. With every lunge from the Titan, Jean skillfully dodges and counterattacks. With a swift spin, he manages to distract it enough for Mikasa to get away.
"Mikasa, run!" Jean shouts, his voice blending with the rain. "I'll cover you!"
She hesitates for a second, and instead of retreating as he had told her, she grips her sword firmly and lunges at the Titan. Jean leans on his sword, breathing heavily. The rain continues to fall, the drops hitting his face, mingling with the sweat and exhaustion.
Their gaze meets, and without a word, a silent understanding is established between them. They launch into the attack, moving in perfect synchrony. Jean takes the lead, distracting the Titan. Mikasa, on the other hand, seizes every opportunity he provides, attacking with unmatched ferocity.
In a moment of opportunity, Jean guides the Titan towards a more slippery terrain. The rain had turned the area into a natural trap field. With a swift motion, he slides behind the Titan and plunges his sword into a vulnerable spot. Mikasa seizes the moment and launches her attack, forcefully severing the Titan's tendons, rendering it immobile. Together, with one final effort, they deliver a simultaneous blow, piercing the vital spot in the Titan's neck.
In the midst of the battlefield, they gaze at each other, their hearts pounding fiercely from the intensity of the fight.
"Mikasa..." Jean says, his voice getting caught in his throat for a moment.
She approaches him, her steps slow and cautious.
"Thank you, Jean," Mikasa whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.
Jean feels those two words resonating deep within his being. The intensity of the moment still clings to his mind, and as he breathes heavily, his focus settles on Mikasa's dark, drenched hair and the indiscernible gleam in her eyes.
In that instant, Jean finds himself lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wonders a million things and simultaneously nothing at all. The raindrops sliding down Mikasa's face, her flushed cheeks, and her expression leave him breathless.
Perhaps it's the intensity of the moment they just shared that overwhelms him with emotions. Maybe it's the persistent rain, adding a touch of melancholy. But as he sees her there, in the middle of the rain, Jean can't help but reflect on how much she means to him.
In an impulsive act, he had thrown himself into danger to protect her without hesitation. He had forced his feelings to remain hidden in the shadows, aware of the deep bonds that tied Mikasa to Eren. However, in the midst of all that, his thoughts overflow, and he wonders if it will always be this way.
The rain continues to fall.
#jeankasa#shingeki no kyojin#mikasa ackerman#jean kirstein#english isn't my first language#lol#jeankasa drabble#jeankasa fic#jeankasa edit#snk edit#snk drabble#anime#*my edit#*my writing#loving how this one turned out#my edit: jeankasa#my writing: jeankasa
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thank you for sending this in about 84 years ago, Vabe!! 🥹🤦🏼
this was such a fun challenge, and i ended up liking writing it so much once i got the idea for it!! it’s light on the erumike side, as discussed, but i tried my best hehe 😉
side note, a thousand thanks for helping me recover it when i accidentally deleted this entire thing this morning 😭♥️ i really do not learn from past mistakes, do i?
anyway, thank you, i love you, i hope you enjoy this ♥️♥️♥️
58. “you smell like a wet dog”
send me a prompt and a character/ship, and i'll write you a drabble!
Gossip Girl(s and Boys)
Relationships: yumihisu, erumike, eremika (implied, one-sided), jeankasa (implied, one-sided), levihan (implied, one-sided),
Tags: feat that s1 castle temporary HQ, eren pov, fluff, snk veterans, the 104th kids, everyone has a crush okay?? you figure it out, basically the scouts regiment is a big high school drama!, they/them pronouns for Hange Zoë, headcanon backstory for Hange Zoë, this is very very silly and fluffy really
Eren grunts as he sits down next to his friends, letting his head fall on the old wooden table in front of him and barely missing his plate thanks to Mikasa’s reflex of pushing it away. He hadn’t expected his life would get easier once he’d joined the Scouts, and although he is thankful deep down for all the work –he knows it’s only turning him into a better soldier to eradicate Titans and he’s glad he’s not being dissected to death by the MP like he almost did– he’s fighting even harder than usual to not skip dinner altogether tonight. To be fair, he’s had to handle both a particularly rough bit of Hange experiments this morning, and regular training with everyone else in the afternoon without having had a chance to rest in between, and without any of the warm up his comrades got before noon.
“You look completely worn out,” Armin says softly, worriedly, jolting him awake from the slumber he was falling into.
Eren sits up and puts one hand over his own face, sighing. Even Jean is looking at him with something that looks like concern in his eyes, and Eren doesn’t know how he should feel about that.
“I am. You know, at first I was thankful when Mike showed up and distracted Hange away from me. But I didn’t think I’d have to catch up with you all after that. They didn’t even tell me themself, just sent their assistant to let me know there wouldn’t be any more proding today,” he recalls, picking up his spoon and tasting the broth. “It was weird, even for them.”
“That does sound odd. And you know, I think it’s only the second of third time I see Squad Leader Zacharias showing up out here,” Sasha points out, already done with her share of dinner.
“He must have had something important to say to Hange-san,” Armin muses out loud, and Eren recognizes the usual faraway look he gets whenever he thinks something over on his face.
“Yeah, I bet he said a lot of things to them. All afternoon. In a closed room with no one else around to overhear,” Connie points out unexpectedly, smirking at his friends.
Sasha and Jean both roll their eyes at him and Eren frowns, shooting a curious glance Mikasa’s way. She shrugs, obviously not in on it.
“From what I understand, he spends most of his time with Major Erwin in HQ,” Armin replies, looking even more serious and deeper in thoughts than before, “so he may indeed have had sensible military intel to share with them regarding the next expedition.”
“I’m sure he shared a whole lot more with them than military intel, if you know what I–
"We get it, Connie, you think they’re boning,” Jean interrupts, flicking the back of his head.
Eren’s thankful he swallowed his mouthful before he heard that, because he’s pretty sure it would have sent his food down the wrong way. Mikasa arches an eyebrow in surprise, and Armin handles this brutal crash back to reality by blushing more furiously than even Eren’s ever seen him.
“That’s right, I do! And I still don’t understand why you guys disagree,” Connie retorts.
“I’ll admit they seem close, but Squad Leader Hange is always sweating and covered in various dirt,” Jean says, sounding weary and bored and like it’s far from the first time he’s having this argument. “Zacharias and his freaky nose would bail at the first attempted kiss.”
“I hate to agree with Horse-face over there, but I think I do,” Ymir admits out loud.
She winks at Eren who’s sitting directly to her right –as she always does when borrowing his favorite insult for their comrade– and draws her chair closer to Krista’s on her left. She ignores Jean’s raised middle finger and his answering jab about her freckles being a poor make up effect to hide acne spots, and throws her arm over the short blonde’s shoulders nonchalantly.
“He’d probably sniff loudly like he always does,” she picks up, doing exactly that above Krista’s hair, “and tell them something like, ‘sorry Zoë baby, but you smell like a wet dog’,” she says in a deep, unnatural voice, wiggling her eyebrows at Krista.
Eren joins his friends and laughs at her poor attempt at imitation.
Unlike them though, he doesn’t miss the creaking sound of the heavy door opening and revealing two silhouettes behind it.
“What’s all this noise, aren’t you brats supposed to be sleeping by now? Maybe we’re not working you hard enough.”
Captain Levi’s voice chills the atmosphere as he walks fully into the room, and even Eren can feel the hair at the back of his neck standing up although he knows they've done nothing wrong. Mikasa is the only one who doesn’t shy away from his stare, but she still doesn’t verbally react to his words.
The tense silence thankfully breaks when the other figure walks in and Nanaba chuckles, ruffling Levi’s hair like it’s not an offense punishable by death.
“Forgive him, gang,” she says, withdrawing her hand before Levi slaps it away like she’s had years of practice doing exactly that. “Heichou here gets restless when it’s been too long since he’s sliced up a Titan.”
Levi glares back at her, and everyone else shares a relieved sigh and an amused glance behind his back.
Ymir uses the distraction to bring her face even closer to Krista’s than it already was, and Eren preemptively cringes at whatever line he's going to overhear, sitting right next to them.
“You, for the record, do not smell like a wet dog at all,” Ymir whispers with her most flirty smile.
Krista sucks in a deep breath and immediately fails to contain a coughing fit, attracting everyone’s attention to them.
“Walls, take this to the dorm room, ladies!” Nanaba jokes when she notices how close they are.
“I’d rather they don’t,” Levi groans, uncrossing his arms and revealing a cup of tea he’d been holding in his peculiar way, hidden in the crook of his elbow. “And before you start, I know it’s not technically illegal to date another soldier, but do they have to be horny teenagers on your explicit orders?”
“It’s not against the rules? Fraternization amongst Scouts?” Mikasa asks hurriedly, her eyes widening at her own question.
Jean barely suppresses a groans and Eren pointedly ignores the glare he sends his way, just like he ignores the pitiful look Armin shoots between his two childhood friends.
“Why do you care, Ackerman?” Levi scoffs.
She bares her teeth at his mocking tone, and Eren almost feels scared for his Captain for a moment.
“We were just trying to settle a bet here,” Jean intervenes before she does or says anything she'd regret.
“We were!” Sasha confirms, giggling nervously to defuse the renewed tension. “Connie here thinks Squad Leaders Zacharias and Zoë may be an item.”
Nanaba blinks twice as she processes that information, before she explodes in laughter, holding her sides. Even Levi visibly pinches his lips together and quickly hides his mouth behind his cup.
“What the hell is wrong with you? They’re siblings!” the veteran Scout manages to say when the worst of her hilarity has subsided.
“But… they don’t have the same name, and they don’t look like each other at all,” Reiner points out while everyone else exchanges shocked looks.
“Well, they grew up together. They were both found as infants, and as you may know, it is common for orphanages under His Majesty’s authority to assign last names that start with the same letter to kids they take in during the same year!”
“That's enough details,” Levi chimes in.
But Nanaba casts him an unimpressed side glance, and he sighs in defeat.
“These guys are Scouts now, Levi. They're family,” Nanaba says with a warm smile directed at everyone of them, including Eren. “And Hans loves telling that story so much, I’m surprised they didn’t know it already. Or,” she adds, her voice switching to a much more mischievous tone suddenly, “are you just getting defensive because they thought your crush was dating mine?”
“You have a crush on Mike?” Sasha squeals out, her hand slapping the table so hard she makes her own empty plate jump up and spin on itself for a few minutes.
Eren wants to point out that if Nanaba does, it probably doesn’t have much to do with just how much food Mike can inhale in one sitting, unlike Sasha’s own… admiration for the veteran Scout. But he bites his own tongue and decides to only listen for a little longer.
“I don't,” Nanaba replies, grinning again. “It’s an old inside joke that started when we were recruits, back when Levi here wasn’t even in the picture; I spotted Mike from across the room on our first day of training and pointed him out to Erwin. And well, let’s just say, it’s never been relevant who has a crush on either of those two since then.”
A few shocked gasps echo in the room, and one of them might even have escaped Eren himself.
“Wait, why not?” Connie asks, frowning.
Jean, the first one to recover from those news, rolls his eyes again and bends to say something in his ear.
“No way! You’re kidding, right?” Connie asks, eyes even bigger and rounder than usual.
“Okay, that’s enough gossiping,” Levi calls out. “Brats, get to bed already. You’re starting especially early and with a special round of exercises tomorrow morning.”
They all leave the room one by one, Jean grumbling about the alluded promised suffering of the next day. Eren trails behind everyone else, his legs having trouble carrying him up and along the corridor that leads away from the dinner room.
“Oi, Levi,” he hears Nanaba call over the noise of plates getting stacked together.
“What now?”
“Notice how they were surprised about a lot of what I said, but no one batted an eye when I mentioned your crush on Hange?”
There’s a short a silence then, disrupted only by the sound of dishes clanking against each other again, followed by a surprised huff from Nanaba.
“Careful, don’t drop them. They’ll be harder to clean if they’re in pieces, and you know I’ll be checking that you did it right.”
“Wow, you're really making me wash the dishes in your place? Man, you must be really pissed to give up your favorite hobby like that.”
Eren walks away faster after he hears Levi swear, and Nanaba’s answering laughter follows him up into the stairs to the dorm rooms.
#snk#shingeki no kyojin#snk drabble#levihan drabble#well sort of#the 104th kids#do i tag all the characters?? there are way too many omg#snk veterans#my stuff#that i deleted like an IDIOT#author is dumb but has reliable friends#woot woot ♥️♥️#mutuals#youre ackermine
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Hiiii Terra! 💕 For the writer’s ask game, 38, 39, 58, 70.
Hey Sailor! Let's get down to business.
38) How many stories do you work on at one time?
Just the one. I am a monogamous fic writer and tend to get fairly intense, maybe a little bit obsessive about what I'm working on. It can be hard if another attractive idea comes along because I feel too committed to my current WIP to pursue anything else.
39) Are you an avid reader?
Oh totally. There's a stack of books on my nightstand that I'm working my way through and I always have a book in my bag when I go out, just in case I'm waiting around and want to kill some time reading.
58) What is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?
For a Jeankasa drabble - the buildings in Trost to see if they were built from red brick or sandstone. It made a huge difference to the plot. Yep.
70) Are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)?
I write the first draft and then start editing. It's the slowest part of the process and I do tend to go over and over it until I'm happy with what I've written. Then I read it through with music. If I enjoy hearing it back, then it can go up on Tumblr/AO3.
Ask me more, ask me more, ask me more ✍️ Ask Game - Fanfic Writers
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Con Con
Summary: Mikasa and Jean's son has made his veredict
Word Count: 606
"Is he trying to talk?" Armin asked.
Everyone turned their attention to 1-year-old Marco Kirstein.
The toddler was sitting in a high chair. His face was covered in oatmeal. The sounds that were coming out of his mouth were a mimic of some words.
"Marco." Mikasa said, and the toddler looked at his mother with his hand in his mouth licking the oatmeal. "Are you trying to talk?"
Marco gave his mother a cheeky smile.
"Can you say 'dada'?" Jean intervened. He was sitting next to Marco.
"Don't even try it." Mikasa object.
Jean chuckled.
"Aren't you the one who is always trying to persuade him to say'mama' in the morning while you think I'm sleeping?"
Mikasa blushed and stuttered.
The group laughed.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, Mikasa, but there's a good chance Marco's first word will be 'dada.'" Connie remarked.
"When did you become a baby expert?" Jean said, amused.
Connie shrugged.
"My first words, as well as those of my siblings, were 'dada.' Besides, it's a very simple word for a toddler to say."
“Well, let's not put too much pressure on Marco. He’ll talk when he feels like talking.” Armin commented.
“Poor Marco.” Connie mocked, on the other side of the table. “Both parents are putting pressure on you. Aren’t they?” He said, leaning forward and tickling Marco’s chin, the little boy giggled.
“Connie…” Jean started but before he could continue a small voice beside him interrupted him.
“Con Con.”
Everyone at the table fell silent.
All eyes were drawn to the boy in the high chair, who seemed unconcerned about the stunned adults around him.
“Did he just…” Reiner started but Marco beat him to a punch.
“Con Con.” Marco repeated again pointing at Connie.
Connie was stunned, and his mouth was open wide. He burst out laughing a split second later. He jumped out of his chair, almost knocking it to the ground.
“Oh my God! This is the best day of my life.” He said this while holding his sides tight because he was laughing so hard.
“I can’t believe this.” Jean mumbled.
“Oh I can.” Connie continued. “And by the way Marco has given his verdict. I’m his favorite uncle!”
He started walking around the table.
“You thought you were going to be the favorite uncle.” He said this while pointing at Reiner, who was looking at him with a puzzled expression.
“You thought you were going to be the favorite.” He said pointing at Pieck.
“You thought you were going to be the favorite uncle because you're the godfather.” He said this while pointing at Armin, who blushed.
“You…” He said to Annie, but he came to a halt when she gave him 'the look.'
He kept going until he reached Marco. He crouched in front of the boy and ruffled his hair.
"You made a happy man out of me today, Marco."
A shadow fell over him. Connie took a deep breath and looked up. Mikasa looked down at him, her face expressionless.
Everyone tried hard not to laugh.
"Well, as the favourite uncle, you can clean him up and change his clothes." She said this as she lifted Marco from his high chair and handed him to Connie.
“You heard the lady, Con Con.” Jean said.
Connie went upstairs with Marco.
"I'm not sure how to properly dress a baby. So don't hold it against me if his shirt is on backwards."
Mikasa sat down gracefully and sipped her drink.
“So… Is it still possible that his second word will be 'dada'?"
Mikasa slammed her cup on the table and glared at him.
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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
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some good ol’ JeanKasa; a drabble perhaps? or a small one shot, whichever you’d like!
congrats on graduating, my love ❤
Selfish
JeanKasa. Canonverse.
1185 words.
Read on Ao3!
Mikasa doesn’t need love. She’s never needed it. All her life, she’s given love away without asking for anything in return, and all the universe has ever done is take, take, and take, leaving her with nothing. She doesn’t need love. She doesn’t even want it, really, but sometimes in the middle of the night when she’s lying wide awake with only her lonely thoughts to keep herself company … she yearns for it.
Maybe she’s a fool for giving out her love so selflessly, going through the same pain over and over again despite all the times she’s been burned. She was young, dumb, and naïve, but it’s not like she ever learned. It’s like the world always wants to punish her for being so foolish, and for some reason she never learns. Perhaps it’s because she’s just too damn stubborn, somehow convinced that she could endure any hardship thrown her way if she just loved long enough, loved hard enough, loved deeply enough. Maybe not everyone had to be taken away from her so cruelly the way her parents were taken away.
Maybe her second love was too selfish, too constricting. Maybe she wasn’t thinking when she had given all her love to Eren, thinking it would be okay to love just one person with all her heart. It was safer than loving more than one thing, Mikasa had thought, as long as she made sure to protect the person most precious to her, but she found that she was wrong for that, too. The more she tightened her grip, the more Eren thrashed. Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised when she came out battered and bruised. Maybe she shouldn’t have shed so many tears when he had finally set himself free. Still, she did, and her heart shattered just as easily as it did the first time.
She doesn’t know why her third love had gone wrong. She doesn’t know why, at that point, she still loved the world despite all the pain she had endured because of it. Maybe it’s because she wanted to prove that the world was still beautiful, that it was still worthy of love, that she was worthy of loving it. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of loving it at all, and that’s why it had spit in her face at the end. Maybe she hadn’t loved it enough, and that’s why she had witnessed the world shake and crack open and end. The world still ends every night in her dreams and it breaks her heart every time.
Despite everything, she can’t turn her back on the world or on love. She can only lie on her back in the dark and wonder what she had done wrong. She doesn’t do anything other than wonder. She doesn’t dream up scenarios of what could have been. She doesn’t wonder what it would be like if she had succeeded in her love. She doesn’t even hope to be loved back someday.
Mikasa’s tired of love.
The word love used to taste so sweet on the tip of her tongue. Now it tastes like bitter bile in the back of her throat. Even the faintest thought of it brings a tired sigh from her lips. She’s loved too much in her lifetime. It exhausts her to even think about it.
Maybe that’s why she never sought love from others. It would be too cruel to subject anyone to the same pain she had gone through if they were to give her even a fraction of the love she had given to the world. It’s too much to ask of anyone else.
And yet Mikasa can’t help but feel that she’s entitled to love after all the love she has given away. Even if it’s just for a day, an hour, a single second, shouldn’t she be loved by someone without having to give anything back in return? Isn’t that the very least she’s owed after all the loss she has suffered in her life?
Maybe that’s why she trudges down the dirt path, down the lonely road away from the bustling city that everyone else has flocked to. She seeks the only person who can give her what she needs, the only person who could love her without asking her to love him back, the only person who had offered to love her openly all those years ago and she had turned him down. She told herself that she was protecting him, but maybe she was protecting herself. There’s no doubt that any affection that would spark between them would consume her just as much as any love she had ever had, but now she has no love to give and nothing else to lose.
She arrives at the house at the end of the road and knocks on the door. Her knuckles rap against the wood twice before the door falls open and Jean Kirstein stands in the doorway. It’s like he was waiting for her.
He smells like whiskey, his drink of choice. Mikasa understands. She hasn’t had a sip of wine in almost a year, but she’s tired of it, too. When the door falls open a little more, she can see empty whiskey bottles all lined up neatly on the floor. It wouldn’t surprise her if empty bottles fill the entire house. She wouldn’t blame him if they did.
“What,” Jean says with a cock of his head, “are you doing here, Mikasa?” He should probably be angry with her. She hasn’t spoken to him since the last bullet had fallen on Paradis, but then again she hasn’t spoken much to anyone since the war ended. Strangely enough, he doesn’t sound angry at all. His tone is light as if they had just seen each other yesterday. There’s only the slightest hint of surprise like they were neighbors running into each other for the second time today.
Hello is what she should probably say.
How are you? is what she should ask him.
I missed you is what she should tell him, but she doesn’t say any of those things.
Instead, Mikasa looks up at Jean and tells him, “Worship me.”
They stand there each on opposite sides of the doorway. Mikasa’s hands are balled up into fists, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hands. She shouldn’t have said it out loud. She should have kept it to herself … but then again why should she? It’s the least that she can ask for after all the love she gave away.
Mikasa looks past Jean at the empty bottles lined all up along the floor. Her gaze returns to Jean’s unshaven face, stubble all along his jaw and cheeks like he had tried to keep himself groomed only to fall out of the habit. She sees his sunken eyes from lack of sleep and the frown set on his face. She can’t remember the last time she had seen him smile. She can’t remember the last time she had smiled herself.
“Why?” Jean asks. Behind his question are a series of other questions he doesn’t ask: Why now? Why had she rejected him before if she was only going to demand even more from him than he had offered before? Why was she asking when they’re both too damaged and broken to ever become whole again?
Because I’m collecting what is owed to me. Because I deserve to be treasured after all the hell I’ve been through. Because I have earned something beyond unconditional love, so it’s the least you could do for me even if it only lasts for a second.
Mikasa bites her tongue. It stings just a little bit. Finally, she replies, “It will give you something else to do besides drinking your life away.”
Jean looks at her, but he never replies. He stares for a beat, two, and then turns around and retreats further into his house. He never invites her in, but maybe it’s implied because he notices that she’s not following him and turns his head to ask, “Are you not coming in?”
The floor is more glass than wood at this point, but there’s a slim path to walk amidst all the empty bottles. As Jean disappears into the kitchen, Mikasa seats herself on the settee. Despite all the empty bottles of whiskey, Jean keeps the rest of the house surprisingly clean.
Mikasa picks up a bottle beside the settee and reads the label, but she doesn’t take in any of the words. She just turns the bottle in her hand and wonders how long it takes Jean to finish a bottle, if he takes his time or if he downs it all in one night. If it were her, it would probably be the latter.
“Is it any good?” Mikasa asks when she hears Jean’s footsteps return. She sets the bottle back down and looks up to see Jean offering her a mug.
“It always tastes like shit to me, but I drink it anyway,” Jean replies. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. It’s almost a smile but not really. When Mikasa doesn’t take the mug from him immediately, he holds it out to her again, an eyebrow raised. “Take it.”
Mikasa purses her lips but takes the mug gingerly in her hands. The liquid is clear inside, colorless and odorless. She raises it to her lips for a cautious sip and finds it’s only water. It’s refreshing as it flows down her throat. She’s halfway done with it when she notices Jean staring at her with an expression she can’t quite place.
“What are you doing?” she asks him.
“Worshiping you,” he replies and reaches out to dab at the corners of her lips gently with the sleeve of his cardigan. The touch is simple, sweet. It makes Mikasa’s heart flutter in her chest.
“I can’t love you back, you know. I can’t give you anything at all,” Mikasa says, and it’s only now that she feels ashamed. How selfish of her to arrive at Jean’s door and ask him for all of his heart when she doesn’t even have a shattered piece of hers to share.
The sleeve of Jean’s cardigan finds its way to the corner of Mikasa’s eyes, dabbing away tears that she didn’t even know were falling.
“I know” is all Jean says in reply, and there is no bitterness in his voice. It’s filled with understanding. Patience. Love, or maybe something like it. “You’ve given love your entire life, haven’t you? You’ve been selfless this entire time. If you want to be selfish for a little bit … if you want to be selfish for the rest of your life, then go ahead. I’ll worship you for as long as you want me to, and won’t ask anything of you.”
He says it so easily and Mikasa wonders why love had been so fickle with her before only to come so effortlessly to her now. She wonders if this can be called love at all because it seems too good to be true. If it’s not, then she’ll take it anyway because Jean’s gaze fills her with a warmth that makes her feel a little less empty. Even if this love only lasts for tonight, she thinks it could be enough.
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mikasa telling jean she is pregnant <3
Omg a jeankasa ask😭💖 thank you anon💖 I hope you don’t mind I wrote a one-shot💖💖💖
Milk and Honey
[it’s on Ao3!]
Are you happy, Mikasa?
Mikasa remembers some things from her childhood. The part of it left untainted by death she remembers vividly. She remembers her father and that one question that’s perpetually hanging on the tip of his tongue. What a strange question it had been. How ambiguous. But Mikasa’s never one to hesitate, yes, she would say, nodding enthusiastically, the world is beautiful and full of wonder. She still hears her father’s voice sometimes. Always are you happy, Mikasa?
And she hears it now in the quiet of the waiting room at the hospital before everything changes. Before the nurse calls her name. Her hands are clammy the threads have come loose where she had been picking at the hem of her dress.
“Mikasa Ackerman?”
—
Then there are the other parts of her childhood. She remembers her mother teaching her how to embroider. Look mama, look at what I made! And her mother is beaming with pride- One day you will teach your children. Her mother says. And Mikasa had smiled, asked her father something stupid about how children are made. There’s a simple answer to that of course.
First you find the girl of your dreams. She will appear as a passing apparition, one that drains you of your ego, your pride. Then you will go off to war and fight alongside one another. She will save you, and you her, in more ways than one. And one day, with a flip of a switch, night becomes day, and in the light, she will think you’re rather easy on the eyes, handsome even. And in this light, everything comes easy- you spill the milk. Next thing you know you’re breathing next to one another in a dark room. Night after night. You don’t talk about the spilt milk.
Even though it goes unspoken, Mikasa thinks about it sometimes. She thinks about it at the dinner table of Levi Ackerman’s little house in the forest- of her lover who’s sitting beside her. He’s sweet like honey, her lover boy. The way his nectar adorns her thighs, trickling between her legs, thick like sap.
The trepidation she had felt at the doctor’s office now dulling to a nervous throb.
She thinks about it as Jean pours her some wine, watches as it sloshes about the chalice. She’s brought back to reality with a gentle hand atop her own. Hey… You alright? The question is swimming behind Jean’s eyes. And she smiles at him. Good, good… And she hopes to god that if Levi had noticed anything he wouldn’t say. Then again none of them are strangers to moments like these. Where the soul transcends the flesh and wanders about the earth in search for something- for someone. Levi has had his fair share. Freezing momentarily when he hears the rumble of a plane overhead, the faraway look in his eyes when he watches Jean hook his pinky around Mikasa’s.
She catches Levi’s gaze from across the table, attempting to read her face and something flashes across his face. Whether it’s realisation or sympathy, Mikasa holds his gaze gently, pleading- not now. Give me time. Not now.
The conversation flows but her wine remains untouched.
—
Mikasa remembers wanting. When she had been a child and her mother had promised her a family of her own. But plans change. She had cut her hair, made her body hard, run off after a boy into the thick of battle. She kills the spark of something they call desire. But it seemed to have survived the war. The image still persists. Of her at the table sewing little flowers onto the hem of a little shirt, having someone ask her mama, how are babies made? What did you and papa do?
Her cheeks are hot as she frames her belly with her hands. Tentative and gentle, like she would a glass chalice filled to the brim with milk and honey, quenching a thirst so unbearable that she could die. And through the nerves, through the apprehension and the unease, there’s a sliver of calm. A small trickling stream carrying with it a promise of a life that’s worth living. Gods.
She looks at the sleeping figure beside her. It’s the middle of the night now and he’s in deep slumber. A steady breath in. A steady breath out. She sighs. Oh Jean, what have we done.
He stirs when she strokes his face with the back of her hand, grazing his stubble, tracing his lips with the pad of her finger. Never would she have thought this would be the sight she’d wake up to every morning- that she’d look forward to waking up to. But the universe has its way of saying remember that boy you used to hate? The one who had a crush on you since he first laid eyes on you? Yeah, well, you’ll learn to love him so much you’ll ache. And Mikasa feels her heart squeeze when he blinks an eye open- then another. Immediately, he smiles. Yes? There are stars in his eyes- the Shepard who has travelled across the fields to see her. To hear the good news.
“Sorry I woke you…” she whispers. It’s still too late/early to break the silence. Jean hums a reply and pulls Mikasa down towards him and wraps his arms around her. He rubs circles into her back, where her flesh has gone soft. Good. No more fighting. She watches in wonder as her body changes. How it has shed some layers of muscle in favour of softness. Good. This, she recognises as herself, as the woman she had imagined growing up.
“Bad dream?” He asks. They’ve all had their share of nightmares. Of Jean jolting up in the middle of the night in a blind panic, only to calm down when he feels Mikasa beside him. Of Mikasa and her terrors that are so real she wakes up screaming. But it’s not a bad dream, not this time. She shakes her head. You’ve come to hear the good news, haven’t you? I’m just thinking how to deliver it.
“Just thinking…”
“Of?”
“Children…” she smiles at him, a little nervous, a little too tentative and uncertain for it to just be a thought. “What do you think of children?”
“I uh… They’re cool I guess?”
They’ve both been down to the orphanage. Mikasa had watched as the kids sidled up to Jean, watched as they took turns to try and scale his back, watched him laugh and wrestle with them and give them his Survey Corps jacket to play with. And something in her just aches. She recognises this feeling as wanting.
“I meant… Children of your own…”
“Ha…” Jean‘s pulse quickens under Mikasa’s clammy hand. His own children. As opposed to children in general. Oh. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. In fact he had thought about it a lot- having his hero’s welcome after the war, marrying the girl of his dreams, having a few kids to chase after. But the thing about reality is- it’s different from your dreams. They came back from the war- a simple end that featured a quiet night at the pub and a long shower after to rid of the stench of death. Instead of celebration, the best they can hope for is recovery. But this- finding one another, this little play at domesticity- lies somewhere in between- between homecoming and new beginnings. And Jean doesn’t know if he can ask for anything more. What would children of his own mean in this little dance of theirs.
“I mean- I’ve always… Wanted… I don’t know… In the future maybe?” Jean says. They’re still young. It’s okay to talk about this unnamed, ambiguous “future” which has no form, no expectations. Just an amalgamation of plans that may never come to be. The great unknown. The future. Mikasa has her head against his chest now, his dream girl. She hums a reply, tracing her finger along the scars on his chest where the harness had cut in, where things have clawed their way and left their mark. Her mind races beyond her control. What does she say now when whatever she has to say will throw them off this comfortable orbit they have established. What will become of the two of them now that they’re spilling over the edge of being three. Will they have space?
“What about you?” He asks, fingers threading through her hair. She’s growing it out now, and he sees the girl he first met back when they had been children. Mikasa inhales, takes in the scent of Jean’s cologne, now muted under layers of soap and rinse. Mikasa feels safe and warm, and like a nesting animal, she lets her guard down.
The silence is expectant. She will have to say something. Past her nerves she has to be brave and spill. One breath in. Another out. And Mikasa has always been forthright- sever the nerve, get it done and over with. One breath in, two breaths out.
“Jean… I’m pregnant…”
More silence.
But when she looks at him, she gets to watch the stars in his eyes burst into light- supernova- yes, that’s it. The Shepard boy with the galaxy in his eyes, now bursting into bright light.
She opens her mouth to speak. She wants to hear everything. What he thinks of it. What he thinks of her. Of them. Instead he presses his lips against hers and drinks her up. Kisses her until the thirst is quenched. Until she sees stars and he’s just a mess of a scattered heartbeat and a reservoir of desire. Gods. He could die now, he could.
It’s a lifetime later when they pull apart. Laughing when they see the tears in each others’ eyes. Laughter, more tears, and then laughter again. And Mikasa thinks maybe words are overglorified because nothing can replace the way he’s looking at her now. She kisses the tears at his cheek as a way to keep the tenderness, stored inside her belly like seeds.
He kisses a trail down from her lips, to her chin, between her breasts, down to her belly.
“Hey…” he says against her skin. She giggles. “Hey baby…”
“I don’t think it can hear you yet…” she says. Their child- an ambiguous, unchristened composition of milk; of honey. Later they will dream up names for the child. Sasha if it’s a girl; Marco if it’s a boy.
“Gods if you look anything like your mother I’ll be a dead man…”
Her heart aches. She could die. Oh, she could die.
“And if they take after their father?”
And already she’s imagining it. Her child- /their child- with the handsome face and auburn eyes.
“Then there’ll be broken hearts all over town…” He beams with pride, and she sees the same boy- the sweetest boy in the world hiding behind his ego.
And she hears it hanging in the air- that question, however ambiguous, needs an answer.
“Are you happy, Jean?”
He makes a sound of genuine surprise- like a child being asked the obvious- are you kidding me? Of course, of course, of course!
“I have dreams of this, Mikasa…” he replies. He could go on and on, but this is forever, they’re living in it. There’s still time.
“And you?” He looks at her, “are you happy, Mikasa?”
Her boy is sweet as honey.
And she’s never one to hesitate.
#jeankasa#I added a touch of levihan did anyone spot?#jean Kirsten#Mikasa Ackerman#Drabble#mine#my fic#jeankasa fic#Jean x mikasa
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