J e a n k a s a W e e k

vena amoris: latin; literally, “vein of love”

pairing: jean/mikasa (jeankasa), plus a little bit of sasha/connie (springles)

rated: t

summary: he tells himself that he’s okay, even as he fidgets with the silver ring wrapped around his finger. (for the jeankasa speed event.)

a/n: um…. i couldn’t wait until june. i just could not. sorry in advance…

enjoy!

For a pair of crazy, unprepared, and disordered losers, Jean has to admit that Connie and Sasha really got it together to make this happen.

This, meaning their own wedding.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLIPPED

title: "I do" summary: Right then and there she had the decided that someday, whenever that would be, she wanted to have all of this.  word count: 1154 words event: wedding

When Mikasa was a little girl she remembers attending a beautiful wedding.

She remembers watching the bride carefully from behind the double doors that led to her groom. Her long hair had been fixed into an elegant updo, no small hairs out of place, and a small butterfly clip tucked away in her hair. Her wedding gown had been so big, so beautiful and it almost reminded her of a cupcake.

Done for the JeanKasa Holiday Event thing. XD

Happy Holidays~! <3

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Of course he had fantasies. Those itches you can’t scratch without actually going through with them.

Of course they were all about her. He was a human, after all.

It started small, as they usually do. He just wanted to touch her skin; it didn’t matter where. Her hands, her hair so soft, even just the thought of her finger tips brushing down his back sent him into overdrive.

As their relationship progressed and he was able to freely touch her, her skin so baby soft and yet still rugged, the fantasies grew.

What once where daydreams about touching her skin and kissing her lips, became the need to open her up, watch her bloom around him. To see every nook and cranny about her, study every inch of flesh. For her mouth to be on him, exploring him.

Stuff that would leave him red as a rose and all bothered.

Sometimes he couldn’t look her in the eye because of the fantasies. He didn’t want to push her into things she’d never been ready for, but he still wanted to try. When they would make out on the rare occasions where they had a room to themselves, his hands would brush against places that weren’t familiar, like her bust or her backside. He even made it to the buttons of her shirt once before she halted him, her face flushed and her lips swollen.

Of course he’d obliged to her wishes. He’d never want to go farther than what she was comfortable with. But the fantasies only grew.

One night, when things had gotten extremely heavy, and one of those blissful occasions where its gotten to the point where she’s everything around him and everything else is blinded by her, his hands slip from her waist to the cup of her chest and she sighs a breathy sigh, her slender fingers parting through his hair. He looks at her and her expression is expectant and ruffled. Its not a no, but an invitation, and his heart pounds in his chest. With shaky fingers, he pulls at the buttons of her blouse.

“Do you think of us?” He asks, his fingers weaving the circular buttons through the holes with nervous abandonment, “Do you think of me as much as I think of you? I think of your skin, your eyes. Of the parts of you I haven’t seen; of how if I do see them, how gentle I’d be. Of how happy I can make you, Mikasa. It’s all I think about. Do you think the same way?”

The last button goes and his cool fingers dance on the exposed skin of her torso; pink and feathered with scars and scratches, but still beautiful. It was weird how that worked. She still managed to be incredibly feminine yet the marks of a soldier are evident. There were times he was sure she was more manly than he.

“Do you?” He asks again, his breath against her collar bone.

His hands, large and calloused, brush against her like feathered tips and she gasps.

“Yes.” She whispers, pulling his hands from her body to bring them to her lips. Looking him in the eye, she kisses each knuckle. Her voice is muffled against his fingers, “A lot more than I really should, Mr. Kirschtein.”

He shivers and smiles at her as she pulls his arms around her neck. Their lips crash and her hands slip up his shirt, her palms pawing his chest. He breaks the kiss to eagerly slip his shirt over his head, and she giggles at his awkward urgency. She sheepishly studies his chest, pleased at what she sees. He isn’t the most muscled – certainly no Reiner or Erwin – but still so very beautiful; as perfect as she imagined plus more.

“What took us so long to do this?” She smirks, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, “But what I do know, is I’ve had enough time to know exactly what I want to do.”

Jeankasa week, day 7 : Fantasies

Abs, they love abs, they want abs, abs for everyone !

Title: Raindrops Rating:T Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin, Attack on Titan Characters: Jean Kirschtein, Mikasa Ackerman, most of the 104th, Jeankasa Summary: Five times they didn’t meet, and the one time they did. Notes: Gomen for being late (Catching Fire, yo!) but I’m finally doing one of these ‘five things and one thing’ thingies! It’s like a fanfiction rite of passage, amirite? I guess this is where Jeankasa Week ends, but I’m glad to have participated!

one

Mikasa meets him in the local store. He measures out sugar and flour for her hurriedly as she wanders off to examine the vegetables section. He’s the new shop boy; apparently the old one ran off to join the military. She doesn’t think this new guy will last too long either.

This is not my homework…

Sketch I did a little while ago and decided to colour for Jeankasa week.

Jean thought of himself as a realistic guy, most of the time.

He knew that he wasn’t the strongest fighter out there, and never tried to convince himself he was. He knew he wasn’t the nicest person in the world, and never pretended to be. He knew he was a coward, and never acted as though he was as brave as he wanted to be.

But when it came to Mikasa, realistic wasn’t a part of his vocabulary.

Jeankasa Speed Event: Holiday Season

On December, your goal is to write a fanfic or draw a piece of fanart picturing both Jean and Mikasa celebrating Christmas, New year or any other holiday of your liking that happens in December.

You’ll have the whole month of December to make one, two, three, or as many tributes as you please!

Tag as #jeankasa speed event

Of course he had fantasies. Those itches you can’t scratch without actually going through with them.

Of course they were all about her. He was a human, after all.

JeanKasa Week Day 7: Fantasy

The Judge pronounces them husband and wife and gives permission for Jean to kiss his bride. He pulls her close and she bounces to her tiptoes—lips bumping in an awkward kiss—they’re both smiling too much for it to be soft and sweet like they usually are. She keeps her eyes open and so does he, afraid that at any minute someone will pinch them and this reality will prove to be nothing but a fantasy. 

Jeankasa Week Day #6: Bedroom

Summary: Jean stays with Mikasa after she is injured in battle. 

Pairing: Jeankasa with implied one-sided Eren/Annie

Rating: T 

Author Note: Qwerfgbnjkop I meant to make a fic all the way back on day three but whoops that’s what application prep does to you. My first SNK fanfic so FORGIVE MEEE and enjoy! :) A little OOC drugged Mikasa. 

~*~

"How is she?" Jean asks eagerly, standing back as Armin and Eren flock to her bedside. 

"Besides the overwhelming scrapes and bruises literally covering her body?" Hanji asks, a worried look glinting behind her thick framed glasses. "Her left leg is fractured. Nearly a clean break. She’ll be out of commission for a while, but she’ll live." Jean sucks in a breath of air, happy, for himself, that she’ll be safe for a while, but regretful that the Survey Corps has lost it’s second strongest fighter. 

"In any situation," Hanji continues. "She shouldn’t need to stay here long. After I wrap up her leg, she’s free to go back to the barracks." Jean nods, crossing his arms over his chest. He feels the muscle under his hands. The muscle he earned trying to catch up to her. 

"Thank you, Hanji," Jean says solemnly, watching her chest rise and fall from a distance. Now, as he wants so desperately to hold her strong hands to his lips and watch her rest peacefully, the short few meters from the bed to the doorway seem like oceans. Eren and Armin rise from the bed. 

"We’ll be back soon, Hanji, after the bonfire," Eren promises, the worry vanishing from his emerald green eyes. How does he not see it? Jean wonders. She cares about him so much, but all he does is chase after Annie. 

"Wait, boys. Can one of you take Ms. Ackerman back to the barracks as soon as I finish this wrap?" Hanji asks, rolling the sterile white cloth over Mikasa’s leg as she speaks. 

"I’ll do it," Jean pipes up, still leaning across the back wall. Eren glances at him warily, still bearing his doubts about the young Kirschtein. 

"Fine," he finally agrees when Armin begins to pull him towards the door. Jean barely catches the mention of Annie’s name as the trudge out into the darkness, leaving Jean, Hanji, and, of course, Mikasa. After a few silenced moments, Hanji steps back and dusts her hands. She motions for Jean to take the sedated Mikasa, and he lifts her, wincing as her full weight transfers into his arms.

"Careful, Jean," Hanji warns, looking him up and down. "You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things, but I’ll let it slip this one time. Just get some rest after you’re done." Jean nods to the squad captain and exits out the back door. Mikasa’s eyes flicker open, and Jean, resisting the urge to stare down and decipher the exact shade of steel grey they are, instead stares ahead. 

"Thanks." Is all she says. She feels his lean muscles, something she’d never noticed before, as he sways her back and forth, bouncing up and down on the uneven terrain. 

"No problem," he replies just before her eyes shut again. Jean is aware of every little inch of skin that touches him: the back of her neck against his forearm, the skin beneath her tattered pants and shirt that rest against his chest. It was a harsh battle for everyone. Lives were lost, bodies burned. While the rest of the trainees gather around the bonfire that cremates the remains of the fallen comrades, he is here, holding her: the girl of his dreams. Since Marco’s death, Jean has barely been able to walk past the destructive ceremony. 

They reach the girls’ barracks, and Jean kicks the door open with his good foot. Of course, he couldn’t have escaped with his fair share of injuries. A broken ankle and gash on his side, but the pain fades away with Mikasa in his arms. If only Marco was here to see me now, Jean thinks, a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips for a small moment.

"Which bed is yours?" he asks the girl in his arms. Mikasa’s eyes open again, and she glances around. 

"In the back," she replies. "By the window on the right. Bottom bunk." The girls dormitories are arranged the same way the boys are, with several bunk beds in rows lining the walls and going down the middle of the room. He carries Mikasa to her designated bed, peeling back the covers and slipping her safely within. 

"If that’s all, I’ll let you rest," Jean says hesitantly. As he turns to leave, a hand on his back, gripping his shirt, stops him.

"I know if I close my eyes I’ll see Eren in the hands of that titan again. Please just… stay." Jean hesitates for a moment, partially because he is wondering how much of this is real Mikasa and how much is wildly  sedated Mikasa. But hey, live in the moment right? Sliding into the bed beside her, he freezes the moment his skin touches hers. This doesn’t bother Mikasa, however, who wiggles her way under his arm and rests her head against his chest, dark ebony hair splaying out in all directions. 

"Thank you… Jean." The last syllables come out forced as she slips into slumber. The barracks are quiet aside from her heavy breathing, a few pants thrown in every time her leg hits something under the blankets. Though it takes him a while, Jean shuts his eyes too. 

Is this what it’s like to fall asleep beside Mikasa? If I got to spend every night like this, I’d marry her in a heartbeat. 

"Me too," the sleeping form besides him says softly, turning her head to nestle deeper into his chest. Jean feels his face burn, unaware he had been speaking out loud. But Mikasa is out like a light, and he even hears soft snores. 

Mikasa Kirschstein. Has a ring to it.