Archive of Our Own

Mikasa stared at the ornaments with apprehension, trying to remember what Hange said about what each represented. Albeit not celebrating it, the hizuran woman, who seemed to be related to her mother’s family, had agreed to bring in as many things as possible so the island could experience some of the traditions of Onyakonpon’s homeland. 

So far she understood it was some sort of religious celebration in which presents were exchanged and big dinner parties were thrown. Driven by their curiosity, Hange had begged Historia to allow them to celebrate the strange holiday called Christmas. 

Considering that the island now had plenty more room to raise cattle, Historia had permitted Hange to make a discreet celebration. 

“We will put the fat man in the middle,” Hange was saying to a group of survey corps members as Mikasa walked towards the tree, referring to the plastic image the Azumabito had brought. “We’ll throw stuff at it. Or do we dance around it? Is it some sort of god? Do we need to sacrifice something for it to the fire?”

“It’s just Santa Claus, commander,” Onyakonpon replied, staring at the ridiculous statue with a smirk on his face. “We don’t dance around it, we don’t make sacrifices, either.”

Hange turned to look at Onyakonpon, their eyes glinting with curiosity. “What do you do to it, then?”

“Quit it, four eyes,” Levi said, coming in through the door at the other end of the large room. “This isn’t a titan exhibition. It’s just a fat guy; he’s probably constipated from eating all that gingerbread the hizurans brought in.”

Mikasa sped up her pace, moving along the shadows of the room. Hange would not notice her if they had Onyakonpon there to answer any questions their boundless curiosity came up with, but captain Levi would surely notice her and the package she carried in her arms. 

That was another thing commander Hange had made them do. A gift exchange they had called “Secret Santa”.  They’d written their names down and put them into a box, from which everyone had taken a piece of paper to know who they would give something to. 

Mikasa pressed her wooden box tighter against her chest, still recalling how confused she’d been when she had seen Jean’s tidy handwriting on the paper. He’d looked at him across the room, as he ignored Sasha and Connie’s demands to know who he’d gotten.

She left the box at the feet of the tree, where others had begun leaving their presents already. On top of it, his name was scribbled with delicate handwriting she hoped he would not realize was hers. 

What she hoped above all, however, was that he liked his present. From the moment she’d read his name on the paper, she’d wondered, day and night, about what she was supposed to give him.

“Sasha?” She’d asked that afternoon, after the names had been raffled and everyone had been dismissed. “Who did you get?”

“I got captain Levi,” her friend had said, with a deep brown. “I’ll go see da’ and ask him to help me pick up some wildflowers. Imma give him some tea.”

Mikasa had nodded, thinking that sounded like a gift the captain would appreciate. Few people knew the herbs found in the woods better than Sasha’s father. 

“Who did you get?”

“What would you give someone kind?” Mikasa had asked instead. 

“Well, most people are kind here, so it depends,” Sasha had said with a shrug. “Except captain Levi, he can be a bit of an asshole.”

“We all know that.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than ‘kind’,” Sasha’s shrug had been so over the top that it had almost made Mikasa laugh. 

“He’s kind, and smart, and people like him,” Mikasa had listed, conjuring Jean’s image in her head. “He’s a good cook, but I’m thinking he prefers to have someone else cook for him. He’s good at chess. He can sing, somewhat, I think…green suits him, too,”

“Green suits him?” Sasha had asked with an arched eyebrow. 

“Because of his eyes,” Mikasa had looked up suddenly, surprising herself at how much she’d pondered about Jean’s gift in only fifteen minutes. Surely, anyone would have just bought a box of chocolates and called it a day. 

But Jean had saved her life once, he’d always tried to keep Eren safe -despite protesting about it- and he knew how to keep Connie and Sasha quiet. Surely he needed something more than a box of chocolates. 

“He likes painting,” Sasha had said. 

“He does?” Mikasa had asked. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, though.”

Hange’s celebration hadn’t been big. Most of the soldiers that showed up had done it to get a free meal and a free chance to get drunk. And the only ones who had played secret Santa had been Levi’s squad and some of the volunteers that had been given some liberties inside the island. 

Jean stretched on his seat as the celebration unraveled around him. He didn’t fully understand Onyakonpon’s Christmas celebration, but he sure liked that it involved good food and good drinking. 

“Gifts will be handed out soon,” Sasha said, jumping to sit next to him with a plateful of potato fries. She’d been eating the salted snack steadily ever since Niccolo had showed her the way to fry thinly sliced potatoes. 

“Here, give me some,” Jean said, but the girl slapped his hand away, not allowing him to come within an inch of the food. “That’s too much for one person!”

“No matter,” Sasha said, taking a handful of fries and stuffing them in her mouth at once. “You get yours, if you want them. These are mine.”

“Fuck off,” Jean said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you get your present yet?”

“Not yet, but Niccolo gave me a real fancy arrow holder,” she said, dipping some of her potatoes in the creamy tomato sauce Niccolo had taught her to make. “Who’d you get?”

“Eren,” Jean said, grimacing. “Not that I wanted to give him anything in the first place.”

“Trying to get Mikasa?” Sasha teased. “That was Connie, lucky bastard.”

Jean looked away, uncomfortable. “Connie giving a present to Mikasa? You know he’s just going to screw it all up. She’ll hate whatever he got her.”

“You’re right there,” Sasha said, offering him a sliced potato he took without question. “Don’t think I’ll hand them freely, by the way. I’m just giving you a chip because I know you’re bummed you didn’t get Mikasa.”

“You’re so kind,” Jean said sarcastically, grabbing a handful more before she could protest. “How do you know Mikasa hated her present?”

“Connie gave it to her earlier,” Sasha shook her head, and Jean straightened, squinting his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of the black haired girl in the crowd. “She’s not here yet. You know she doesn’t like crowds.”

“What did Connie give her?” 

“A set of fighting knives,” Sasha said with yet another shake of her head. Jean slapped his forehead with his palm, leaning back against the couch, now looking for Connie in the crowd to give him the slap he so rightly deserved. “I mean, we all know she’s strong. But one would think he’d know her tastes extend beyond that.”

“What a fucking idiot,” Jean said, rubbing his temple. 

“Besides, we’re going to use thunder spears  and guns,” Sasha went on. “Talk about falling behind with technology.”

“Did she get anything from Armin or Eren?”

Sasha tapped her chin with two fingers. “Armin gave her a pretty stone he found at the sea. As for Eren…I don’t think he gave her anything.”

“I need to find that idiot,” Jean said, coming to his feet. Sasha stood, with a strange expression on her face. “What do you want?”

“Don’t do what you’re thinking,” Sasha warned him. “Jean, you went through the trouble—“

“I need to find Eren,” Jean said, determined. 

He walked without turning to look back at Sasha, trying to find for their idiotic friend in the crowd. People talked and danced happily, and music from the violins and piano had enveloped the hall as if a war wasn’t coming their way. Jean smiled as he walked; the soldiers needed ways to relax, and he guessed this was Hange’s way of doing it. 

Jean found Eren sitting idle on a windowsill, his face resting on his hand nonchalantly as he looked outside. To his surprise, even Eren looked somewhat relaxed in the midst of the party.

“Always have to act like a cool jerk, huh?” He told him, dragging a chair to sit by his side. “What are you looking out the window for? Waiting for this Santa guy to come give you a kiss?”

Eren half smiled at him. “What do you want now?”

“Did you like your present?”

Eren dug into the inner pockets of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. A shudder traveled Jean’s body, and he had to hold himself back before he punched the soul out of Jaegar as he unfolded it to examine it to the light. 

“It’s really something,” he said, watching the portrait he’d made of him, Armin and Mikasa for a second. “Lots of details, and Mikasa’s smile is…beautiful,”

“It took me ten hours,” Jean groaned, rubbing his face to keep his hands somewhat busy. 

“What? I haven’t said it’s bad!” Eren said, folding it three times and putting it deep in the pockets of his jacket. 

“You’re not supposed to fold it like that,” Jean whispered. 

“What?” Eren asked. Jean sighed, this man was truly the most clueless jerk he’d ever met. And that was the very reason why Jean had gone looking for him after his talk with Sasha. 

“Nothing, it’s yours to do as you please,” He replied. “Did you get something for Armin and Mikasa?”

“Why would I?” Eren asked, frowning. “They said we’d only get a present if we played the game.”

“Did Armin get you anything?” Jean asked. 

“Some sea creature,”

“And Mikasa?”

Eren looked out the window, at the blinking lights Hange had adorned the barracks with. In the distance, amid the falling snow, there was one dot that blinked more steadily than the others. “Mikasa told me to meet her alone, later. She’d give me my present then.”

“Oh,” Jean said, trying to ignore the coldness that took over his chest. He looked at the package he had in one hand, forcing himself to not hesitate. She would much rather receive the present from Eren than her. “Well, in that case, you should give her this.”

“One moment,” Eren said, coming to his feet from the windowsill, his eyes set on the light outside. “I’ll step outside, alright, Jean? You tell them I had to go to the toilet. Tell them my stomach was bothering me.”

“That’s a surprise,” Jean muttered sarcastically, taking a step forward. “Hey, about the present, you need to take this to her before-“

“Yeah, your present, she left it by the tree there,” 

“No, I want you to give this to Mikasa…wait, where are you going?” Jean asked, however Eren was already at the door, halfway gone, too focused on whoever had signaled for him outside to bother with what Jean wanted to say. 

“She put a lot of thought into it, so you better like it,” Eren said before opening the door, barely sparing a glance for Jean, but he didn’t care about his indifference now, not with what Eren had just told him. 

Jean walked to the tree, where a few boxes remained, and found the one wrapped in red and golden paper. His name was scribbled on the package, but it didn’t have a sender. He looked up, doing a quick recount of the people who already had theirs, and a thousand butterflies invaded his stomach. 

The gift had been so carefully put together, that Jean took his time to unwrap it. Underneath the paper, there was a wooden box. When Jean lifted the box up to the light, something shifted inside. 

“Shit,” he said, putting it back down. Whatever was inside sounded like glass, and he didn’t want to ruin it. 

The smell of lemongrass and mint was what he noticed first when he opened it. Then, it was the contents of it. Inside, a dozen little jars filled with oils of all colors waited. But there weren’t only oils; no, she had stacked it with paper, five different brushes, a cleaning rag, and a set of crayons. 

Jean closed the lid and brought the box up against his chest, not thinking it twice when he stood and looked for the door. Sasha, who was talking to a red-faced Niccolo by a fireplace, lifted her arm and waved it in the air. 

She knew, she’d known what his present would be, and who would be the person giving it to him. Jean rolled his eyes, thinking Sasha’s love for seeing him surprised would give him a heart attack one of these days.

Mikasa moved the training gear to her private storage without trouble. It would take most of the space, but she didn’t own many clothes in the first place. Armin’s present would go in the drawer by her bed, on a pillow she’d embroidered herself. 

She needed to find Connie to say thank you. Sasha had been with her when she’d opened the present, and while her friend had gone on for over thirty minutes about what an idiot Connie was, Mikasa still wanted to say she appreciated the gift. 

It’s not that she hated her present, she just wished she could have gotten someone…that would have thought a bit more about what she would have liked. Mikasa sighed; Sasha had given her a box full of potato fries, Armin had given her a piece of sea glass. Eren…Eren had given her nothing. 

Lately, he seemed more focused on spending his time in meetings with the higher commands of the military and new comrades she and Armin knew nothing about. 

“He’ll give us something, I’m sure. And even if he doesn’t, we know he’s forgetful,” Armin had said before she’d taken her leave from the party hall. 

Mikasa sat on the bed and sighed; she knew Sasha wanted her to be with her throughout the night, since she was still too shy to be all alone around Niccolo. But Mikasa had never liked parties, and by now most people would be drunk beyond belief, and drunk men tended to get annoying.

She stretched her back on the bed, wondering if Sasha would hold it against her if she didn’t return for the rest of the night. She didn’t want to recall the way some of the partygoers had sniggered when Connie had given her her present, the way they’d whispered and pointed at her. Of course, her face had remained impassive, seemingly invulnerable against the people giggling at her present. 

But that didn’t mean she wanted to go back. 

“Mikasa?” she recognized the voice immediately. Mikasa sat up, noticing Jean standing at the threshold to the girl’s dormitories with a box between his hands. 

“Jean,” she said, blinking in surprise.

“Can I come in?” he asked. Mikasa nodded without hesitation; she appreciated his deference towards her, she enjoyed that he always asked for her consent to do things others would do automatically. “Can I sit close to you?”

“Go ahead,” Mikasa said. Sometimes, that constant verification for reassurance made him sound manlier, more mature, like a proper adult. 

Not that he wasn’t a proper adult already. Jean had grown taller than all of them the past year, and he’d lost many of the features that had given him a childish look years ago. With his hair long, the shapes of his face much more defined, and his role as squad leader in many occasions, Mikasa knew maturing into a fine man was a natural thing for him. 

Jean stepped in the room and went to Sasha’s bed, which was next to hers, and sat, placing his present carefully on the bedside table. “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me,” his voice wasn’t more than a whisper, and in the low light of their lanterns, she wasn’t sure if his cheeks were tinted pink or not. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Sasha told me you like painting,” Mikasa replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t know before.”

Jean shook his head, looking up at her while half smiling. “It’s not something I wanted to be recognized for,” he snorted. “You know, guys like Floch and other jerks of the sort would hold onto that to give me crap day and night.”

“Of course, I-I’m sorry,” Mikasa looked at her lap, feeling like a stupid child. Painting was his secret activity, a thing he did to relax away from everyone’s prying eyes, and she’d gone and given him a box full of art supplies, which he’d opened in the middle of a crowded room.

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jean said hurriedly. Without thinking, he came to his feet and cut the distance between them. He sat next to her on the bed, but Mikasa wasn’t bothered by the sudden proximity. To her surprise, his warmth was gladly welcomed; it was a reminder of how empty the bed had been just minutes before. “I adored the present, and I don’t care if anyone saw it or not. I loved it with all my heart.”

“That much?” Mikasa asked, both eyebrows raised in surprise. She sat sideways, with her leg tucked under her, to face him, and she couldn’t help but to wonder when had been the last time she and Jean had spoken so close to each other in private. 

“That much, yes,” Jean said, nodding. “The colors are gorgeous, and there was so much stuff…did you have to spend a lot of money?”

Mikasa shrugged. “I don’t spend much of my paycheck in any case.”

“You shouldn’t have spent a dime on me,” Jean said, letting out a breath. 

“Huh?” Mikasa mouthed. “We’re friends, Jean, why wouldn’t I?”

His shoulders tensed and Jean smiled nervously, and now she knew for certain the tinge in his cheeks was not a trick of the light. It wasn’t hard to embarrass Jean; as much as he tried to appear nonchalant, making him flustered was surprisingly easy. He had a kind face, perfect for blushes as it was for leadership.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Mikasa ventured, wanting to put something in the middle of the heavy, comfortable silence that had settled between the two. “I-It was a hard decision. I was only going to get a couple of jars, but the man at the store kept talking about how I needed to buy this and that…I just bought what the man at the store said was best.”

“I suppose you didn’t let him overcharge you?”

“You suppose correctly,” Mikasa said, proudly. 

When she looked back at his eyes, the silence settled between them again. It wasn’t uncomfortable, like it sometimes was with Connie and Levi, it was a warmth of sorts that surrounded them. His smile was a thick blanket, the type you used around your shoulders on a snowy day, the type that made you want to stay frozen in time, in the same position, forever. 

“I got you something,” Jean said all of a sudden, as if he wanted to fill in the silence, like she had a moment ago. She would have told him to stay quiet, she would have asked him to let the moment of quiet go on for longer, if it hadn’t been for the words he’d used.

“You got me something?” she repeated, her mouth suddenly dry. “But, but–”

“We said we’d only give presents to our secret santa, I know,” Jean finished saying with a smile, the hazel in his eyes almost shining with childish excitement. He stood, reached the door in three long strides, and got a badly wrapped box from outside before coming back to sit at her side. “But Sasha broke the rule, Armin broke the rule. I can afford to break the rule, too, don’t you think?”

“You shouldn’t make a habit of breaking the rules,” Mikasa said, unable to hide her half smile as she took the present in her hands. Years had passed since the last time she’d had a pleasant surprise just for her. “It’s not good for someone in your position.”

“My position?” 

“You’re a leader,” Mikasa said, carefully undoing the bow atop the present. “If you break too many rules, you’ll get used to it. You will like it.”

“I won’t break any more after this,” Jean assured her, and now her smile became a proper one. Part of her thought he might have been mocking her, but most of her rest assured Jean was too much of a good person to ever think about doing something of the sort. He not only liked her friendship, but he deeply respected her as a person. “This christmas thing is fun, don’t you think?”

“It is,” Mikasa said as she opened the present, not looking up yet. For someone who liked art, Jean wasn’t the best at wrapping things, a part of her mind thought as she tore the paper open. “Children would love it.”

“It’s not a bad tradition to show kids,” Jean agreed. Mikasa nodded in agreement, assured he wouldn’t be offended by her silence. She wanted to ask him if he would show it to his own kids, in the future, but maybe talking about the future would be too bold of her. With the impending war in the upcoming years, talking about families that would most likely never come to be seemed like a folly. “If I ever have them, I think we’ll do this present thing.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mikasa said, giving him a fleeting look as she finished undoing the final knot around the present.  

“You don’t have to open it right now,” Jean said hurriedly, as if he’d just remembered he was supposed to say that before, but Mikasa shook her head. She unfolded the paper, revealing the thick fabric underneath. 

Mikasa brought them out one by one. Two pairs of woolen mittens, two woolen hats, two pairs of woolen socks, two ear mufflers, one pair red and one pair green. She ran her hands over them, the stitches were uneven, imperfect at their very core and in disarrange. Mikasa examined each of them slowly, in silence as she admired the amateur technique that had put together these presents. 

“Sasha mentioned your mom taught you embroidery, and knitting,” Jean stammered, looking away, as if trying to find something to focus on other than her present. “I just thought…they’re to match your scarf.”

“Did you make these?”

Jean cleared his throat. “I-they’re not that good, are they?” He scratched the back of his head and looked away again, cheeks flushed. “Sasha helped me with the measurements. I had a whole month and I couldn’t get the hang of it. I’m sorry if they’re not good.”

She brought the fabric up against her face and closed her eyes. The threads were soft, much softer than the fabric of her scarf. Whatever he’d used, he’d spent much more money than she had on his painting box. The fabric smelled faintly of ginger cookies and hot chocolate. 

She didn’t know why, but it reminded her of home. It reminded her of those long days in her parent’s cabin, where she’d learned how to grow food, how to hunt, how to sew and cook and take care of a home alongside her mother and father. The smell, the softness of the fabric, brought tears to her eyes. 

“Thank you,” she said without opening her eyes. The gift was soothing, much more soothing than Connie’s training gear and Armin’s seaglass; his gift brought a strange sort of longing for her childhood days, when she hadn’t had to fight, before every moment was a tug of war between her and her comrades and death. 

Her eyes were filled with tears by the time she opened her eyes. And as much as she would have wanted to hide it from Jean, she knew it was impossible to keep any emotion hidden from him. “Hey, Mikasa, you-”

“Wait,” she said, going to her drawer to find the neatly wrapped package without a moment’s hesitation. “I had no idea what to get you.”

“What you got me is perfect, I swear,” Jean replied; she gave him a quick, sideways glance, and noticed he didn’t know what to do with his hands as she searched. Part of him wanted to console her for her tears, surely, but most of him was too mindful of her boundaries to even dare to come near her. “Are you alright?”

“I got it right when Sasha told me you liked to paint,” Mikasa corrected without looking back. 

“It doesn’t matter, your present was perfect. Y-you don’t need to.”

Mikasa touched the rugged paper and pulled out the package, straightening her back to look at him. “This is yours.”

Jean smiled nervously. “You don’t need to give me two presents, I-”

“It was yours originally,” Mikasa said, pushing the present against his chest. “Before Sasha told me you liked to paint. Open it.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes focused on her and nothing else. In the end, Jean obliged her request and tore the wrapping paper open. Without thinking, Mikasa dragged herself a little closer on the bed, to look at his reaction closely. He smelled like christmas licor and sweets; it was a warm smell, just as soothing as his gift had been, and Mikasa found herself staring at his hands as he unwrapped the present. 

“Hey,” Jean said, his expression turning into a large smile when he pulled the thick, green fabric out. “A scarf,”

“A green scarf,” 

“A green scarf,” Jean repeated, holding it in both hands. “Did you-”

“I made it, yes,” Mikasa said, nodding. “I-I didn’t know what else to get Jean. So, I thought I should make something.” 

Jean ran his long fingers along the scarf. “This is really good. I’m not surprised you’re better than me at this too.”

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa said. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass his knitting skills. 

“Why would you be sorry?” Jean snorted. “You being awesome at everything is one of the things everyone admires about you.”

For some reason, she’d expected anger, she’d expected him to tell her something about wanting to show off her skills to humiliate him. His reaction had forced her own common sense to kick in. Jean was not like that; he didn’t cower away in the face of women who far surpassed his abilities, he didn’t become mad if a woman did something better. 

“You need to teach me,” Jean said then, running his fingers over the surface of the fabric yet again. “I might be able to redo your mittens and give you something decent.”

Mikasa brought the mittens against her chest, as if wanting to take them away from his grasp in case he decided to start fixing them. “They are fine as they are,” she declared. “Jean is fine as he is, too.”
“Why green?” Jean asked, clearing his throat. “It’s a lovely color, but…the thread couldn’t have been cheap.”

“Your eyes,” 

“Huh? My what?”

“Your eyes,” Mikasa said, pointing at his face with her index finger. “Green and hazel look pretty together.”

The tension in his shoulders came back with that, and color rushed to his cheeks so quick, Mikasa thought he would get dizzy. The silence filled the space between their bodies again; it was a heavy, thick nothingness, charged with energy from the two. She had the notion that there were things unsaid between them, but Mikasa had no idea what those things could be. 

“Don’t do that to me,” Jean whispered, smiling in her direction. 

“Don’t do what?” Mikasa asked, confused. 

“Don’t be all cute and adorable,” Jean whispered again, beggingly, setting his gaze on his lap. Mikasa frowned, not quite comprehending the meaning of his words. She hadn’t tried to be cute; she doubted she could even be cute if she tried. In any case, she’d not once heard Jean talk about her in such a way. 

In reality, she didn’t think anyone before had used an adjective like that to describe her, ever before…not that she wanted to be described as cute . People didn’t dare to associate her with anything that made her seem weak, mostly out of self-preservation. However, Jean hadn’t hesitated in calling her that. Perhaps it had been a moment of carelessness, but he hadn’t seemed scared to call her that.

To her own surprise, Mikasa realized she didn’t mind hearing something like that coming from him. If it was Jean, she guessed being called cute didn’t sound so terrible.

“Jean?” Mikasa said. He followed the sound of her voice like bees to honey, looking up at her while breathing heavily, his deep, hazel eyes half-lidded. And, just like bees to honey, Mikasa felt her body moving in his direction. She didn’t know what she sought by coming closer, but something deep within her stomach wanted to find out, to see what he would do when she closed the distance between them further…

“Mikasa!” Armin’s voice was like a hammer against crystal; it broke the perfect stillness around them, it made Jean slide to the edge of the bed, away from her, as if the two had been doing something wrong. “There’s fireworks! You need to come see…”

Armin stood at the door to the room she and Sasha shared, dry heaving from the run from the hall to their sleeping quarters, cheeks blushed a bright red from the cold. His eyes scanned the room and his expression changed; his smile disappeared and he parted his lips in the shape of an O, then put both hands behind his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, his eyes shifting from Jean to Mikasa. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t think. You just, you disappeared, and you said…”

“Sasha sent me to find her, actually, for the fireworks display,” Jean stood in one quick movement, reaching for his box. Mikasa frowned; she didn’t like giving fake excuses to Armin, and she would’ve uncovered his lie if the situation had been different. But something inside her kept her from correcting Jean. As much as she loved Armin, she didn’t want him to know they’d had a private present exchange. “And I took the chance to thank her for her present.”

“We should go. Sasha will be worried,” Mikasa said.

“Didn’t you have to meet Eren?” Armin asked. 

“I’ll give him his present outside,” she said with a shrug. It had taken her a while to knit the belly warmer, but surely he would appreciate having it while watching the fireworks, considering the snow. Besides, he hadn’t even come to her rooms at the time she’d asked him to. Mikasa put on her mittens and hat, however the hat wasn’t what drew Armin’s attention. 

“What’s with the scarf?” he asked Jean, watching him wrap his own green scarf around his neck.

Jean gave Armin a half smirk. The sight of his smile made something inside her stomach jump in excitement, but Mikasa had to force herself to not smile. Surely, she was proud he’d liked his second present, but again, she wasn’t sure she wanted Armin to know the details of her present. 

Thankfully, Jean knew how to read her tiny displays of emotion well.

“It’s cold outside,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, green matches my eyes.”

The bed was warm and cozy, infinitely so. She didn’t need to look outside to know the snow had covered the ground with a thick, white blanket. There would be no need to go outside, at least not so early in the morning, and her pillows smelled like fresh mint. She felt no pain, no sorrow, no longing; there was just the soft, bouncy pillows, the wood crackling in the fireplace and the smell of warm chocolate nearing the bed. 

Mikasa opened her eyes and looked at the door, smiling when she saw the man standing there. “Didn’t I say I wanted you to wake me up?” she asked, sitting up on the bed as he walked towards her, balancing a tray with steaming mugs in one hand. “I wanted to help you make breakfast.”

“You were wrapping presents the whole night, Ackerman,” he replied, handing over a mug she took between her hands. The smell reached her nostrils and she smiled in pleasure; he really was the greatest at making hot chocolate.

“You were up, too, Kirstein.” Mikasa replied, taking a sip. “And you’re handling the dinner tonight, aren’t you?”

Jean reached out to cup her face. “I like surprising you. Let me bring you breakfast in bed, let me spoil you,” Mikasa grabbed his shirt and tugged him forward. With a smile, Jean slid closer. She closed the distance between them, taking his lips in hers. 

“And I like waking up next to you,” she whispered once their kiss was over. Jean pressed his forehead against hers, took both cups, and put them on their bedside table, before pressing his lips against hers one more time. 

Mikasa threw her arms around his shoulders, smiling as his tongue touched hers and his hands trailed downwards, towards her naked thighs and legs. “How long do we have, Jean?”

“About an hour,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist, covering her body with his. Mikasa pulled him closer, enveloping him by the waist with both legs. Jean’s tongue pressed against hers, and his both hands squeezed the muscles of her buttocks. 

“That’s why I wanted to be up early,” Mikasa said, craning her neck back to allow Jean to kiss the soft skin of her neck. Jean’s lips left a hot trail on her skin, but Mikasa’s senses were on the hand that went underneath her night shorts, looking for the hot wetness between her legs. “We could’ve had a whole three hours, Kirstein.”

“I can think of a few ways to spoil you in an hour,” Jean whispered, giving her a wickedly flirtatious look. His finger found the wetness of her pussy, and his index finger entered her warm orifice. Mikasa gasped in pleasure, but his grip on her was strong, and there was nothing she loved more than him moving inside her. 

“What about you?” Mikasa asked, burying her hands in his hair, pulling slightly. 

“What about me?” He pulled up her shirt, uncovering her naked breasts. Not another moment went by before he caught a nipple in his mouth. Mikasa threw her head back, biting on her hand to keep herself from screaming. 

Not one part of Jean was unoccupied; his mouth sucked on her nipple, his finger was pleasuring her between the legs, and his other hand was massaging the nipple that wasn’t being sucked on. 

“You need…you need to feel good too,” Mikasa managed to say. It was difficult to make coherent sentences when her husband was pleasuring as many places in her body as he was able to. 

“Do you have any idea of how much I enjoy touching and kissing you?” Jean said, looking up at her with bright red cheeks. He ran his tongue along her hard nipple, eyes connected with hers while also squeezing. 

Soon, a thick bead of white liquid accumulated on her nipple, and Mikasa smiled when Jean gave that a lick as well. “You perverted man,”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jean laughed. “Milk just comes out so easily these days.”

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” Mikasa asked, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She’d experienced pregnancy before, but the following months after the birth itself, her body always felt awkward and clumsy. 

Jean kissed her other nipple. “I’m not. You’re the sexiest woman in the entire world. You shouldn’t be embarrassed for a few drops of milk.”

“They’re not sexy.”

“Everything about you is sexy,” Jean replied in a hoarse voice, stealing small kisses from her mouth. “There’s nothing about you that isn’t incredibly sexy, Ackerman.”

Mikasa took a hold of him by the neck, claiming his kisses with all the strength in her body. It had always been like that; the one to take the slow, careful steps had been Jean, while she had been the one to plow forward, to take the most direct steps forward in their relationship. She had been the one who had kissed him first, she’d been the one to lead them first to a room to spend the night. 

It wasn’t a lack of desire from Jean’s side, but a strong awareness of what she had lived beforehand. He had never wanted to make her uncomfortable and his limits had always been unbending when it came to her boundaries. Of course, that meant breaking boundaries had been left to her. Something Mikasa didn’t mind.

She pushed him back on the bed, climbing over his body as if he were a tree. Their bed clothes were thin, so she could clearly feel his erection poking through his pajama pants. “You’re excited, aren’t you?” 

Jean smirked, giving her that lustful gaze that had melted her over and over after his return to the island. “What do you expect?” he said, running his hands over her chest. “You’re gorgeous, and you want me.”

Mikasa neared his face, rubbing her whole body against his. She made sure to rub her pussy over the bump of his erection; she was wet between the legs, she could feel herself beginning to leak through her shorts, and Jean noticed as well. His hand went to touch the wet spot on her shorts, and he bit his lower lip. 

“I’m not the only one who’s excited,” he groaned. Mikasa put her lips against his, merging her tongue with his as she rubbed herself over his erection. Jean didn’t wait a moment longer and dipped his hand under her pants; without asking, he introduced two fingers inside her wet hole. 

“Your hands,” she whispered, coming up so he could suck on her breasts. “They’re so big.”

“They’re made to make you come,” Jean moaned. Mikasa moved quicker over his erection, while Jean’s fingers took the shape of a hook inside her, finding the rugged spot inside her that increased the pleasure twice fold. “Do you want to come for me today?”

Mikasa nodded as a moan escaped the very bottom of her throat. Jean moved his fingers quicker and arched his back, so his erection could press up against her clitoris even through their clothes. He bit her neck, and Mikasa didn’t care about any possible marks his love bite could leave behind. 

“I can’t take it,” she moaned, straightening to take off her shirt. In less than a second, Mikasa removed her shorts and underpants, and sat naked in front of him. Jean’s eyes were pure desire as he ran his hands over her naked body, too mesmerized with the shape of her to start taking his clothes off. 

But Mikasa didn’t want to wait. No, she wanted his dick, his mouth, his fingers, she wanted all of him at the same time. She leaned forward again, lifting his shirt as she did so in order to her nipples to graze against his naked skin. “I’m going to ride your face, Jean.”

“Yes, please,” he replied, kissing her deeply. Without warning, he pulled out his dick from his pants and introduced it into her wet, waiting hole. Mikasa moaned into his mouth, letting him plow into her in steady movements, forcing little squeals out of her mouth each time he pumped inside. 

Saying he was merely big would be an understatement. He often said his size came with his height, but Mikasa had no doubts that Jean was the most well endowed men in the entire island. At first, his size had been hard to get herself accustomed to, but it seemed her body had taken his shape now, and she could bear the whole length of him with no trouble. 

“Come on up,” Jean groaned, taking his dick out of her and giving her a tiny slap on the ass. “You’ve got something to ride, don’t you?”

Mikasa smiled; it was one of those smiles that existed exclusively for him and their bedroom play. It was the smile that told him he was hers, and her pleasure was his to enjoy. She pulled him out of herself and moved until her ass was hovering above his face. 

Jean wrapped his arms around her thighs and, without words, urged her to come down. Mikasa lowered herself onto him, taking a sharp breath when her pussy touched his nose. She lowered herself more, until her lips were firmly placed against his. Jean gave her a tentative lick and Mikasa thrusted forward, feeling shockwaves of pleasure traverse her body when his tongue moved according to her hip movements. 

She began to play with her breasts as she rode his face, squeezing the tips of her nipples while pleasuring herself using his mouth. Out of all the bed play she’d discovered with him, riding his face was perhaps one of her favorites.

He unwrapped one of the arms coiled around her thighs and put two fingers inside her pussy. Mikasa yelped out loud and thrusted faster; tiny little bursts of pleasure coursed through her as his lips kissed her lower lips. Once his fingers were coated in her wetness, Jean put them against the entrance to her ass. 

“Inside,” Mikasa heaved. Jean growled in return, pushing the two fingers inside her ass, causing her to increase the speed of her thrusts. Another arm uncoiled from around her thigh, and his hand went to stimulate her nipple, circling it with his thumb as she worked the other one. His mouth was relentless, and his tongue had nestled itself against her clitoris, driving her insane with pleasure. 

“Jean, Jean, Jean” she moaned, rocking her hips back and forth, to the rhythm of his breath, and craned her neck back, repeating his name over and over as she reached her orgasm. Jean ate her without stopping, lapping at the juices overflowing her pussy, applying pressure and releasing her clitoris. Her body became stiff as she reached her climax, and Jean opened his mouth against her, drinking in her pleasure without qualms or protests. 

Mikasa fell on her side on the bed, red faced and breathing heavily. Jean turned to lie on her side to face her, his face shiny with her juices, and Mikasa reached out to grab him by the neck, dragging him towards her to join their lips one more time. Her taste on his lips and tongue remained, and all she wanted was to coat his dick with more of her. 

“I love you,” she mouthed against his lips.
“I love you too,” Jean said, combing her hair back, drying the beads of sweat on her forehead. He dipped a finger inside her, then brought it up to her face. “Do you want to taste yourself some more?”

Mikasa grabbed his hand and put the finger inside her mouth, sucking slightly, her eyes fixated on his. “I want you inside me,” she whispered, holding the back of his head and kissing his lips. “Now, Kirstein, I want you inside me now,”

“Do you want to ride me, or do you want me to ride you?” Jean whispered back, biting on her lower lip briefly before he kissed her neck. 

“You fuck me this time,” she threw her leg around him, and Jean didn’t wait another moment to press his dick against her entrance, pushing inside while both were lying on their sides. Mikasa opened her mouth the further he went in, but she didn’t close her eyes. No, she wanted to scout at his every reaction, every little display of pleasure. “Fuck me hard, Jean. We don’t have much time.”

He was happy to oblige her every request in bed. Ever since the first moment their bodies had merged, neither had ever been satiated from the hunger they had for each other. He adored her with all his heart; all of her flaws and qualities, he loved. He’d loved her without expecting anything in return and, in the end, he’d gotten everything from her in return. 

His dick reached the very bottom of her, and Mikasa bit her lower lip, but from the glint of desire in her eyes, he figured it was mostly in pleasure. However, he knew the size of his member had caused her pain before. And thus, Jean had to make sure she was enjoying herself, for there was no pleasure if she didn’t feel pleasure first. 

“Are you okay?” he said, cupping her face, not daring to move until she said she was okay. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“You could never hurt,” Mikasa said, putting her arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer to her. Jean adored whenever she did that. He’d never been ashamed of displaying his love for her in public, but there was something so utterly endearing and erotic whenever she showed him how much she wanted to kiss and touch him. “Please keep going.”

Jean thrusted inside her, eliciting another yelp out of the bottom of her throat. Mikasa rubbed his tongue with hers, and he noticed one of her hands going in between her legs to stimulate her clitoris. “Can I do it?”

His wife gave him a tired little smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, please.”

He sat up and flipped her on her back. Her nakedness was the most beautiful sight to appreciate; there was nothing more beautiful than Mikasa Ackerman, sleepy, red faced and naked in the early morning. 

“You like to stare, don’t you?” Mikasa whispered, tilting her head to the side, giving him that sweet smile Jean knew was meant only for his eyes. 

“I love to,” Jean admitted, pulling her legs up so they could rest on his shoulders. Mikasa arched her back, to make things more comfortable for him, and Jean pushed inside her again, with his thumb pressed against her clitoris. His wife closed her eyes and parted her lips, and Jean bent forward to kiss her, giving her lips a lick before focusing on her breasts. 

He sucked her nipple lightly as he moved in and out of her, aware that more liquid could come out if he suctioned too hard. Her breasts were more swollen now than before; she often complained motherhood had changed her body in ways she didn’t like, but to Jean, every year that she passed by his side only added to her beauty. 

“Jean,” she said, grabbing his face with two hands to look at him. There was hair stuck to her forehead, her whole face was red, and her lips were parted in a small O. Jean didn’t stop moving; he didn’t want to stop, he didn’t think he could even if he tried. 

“Yes, my dear?”

“I love this,” she moaned, propping herself up on one elbow to find a more comfortable position to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jean replied, slowing the rhythm of his movements to kiss her cheeks. “I love this face.”

Mikasa smiled and craned her head back, inviting him to savor her skin more. “I love this neck,” he kissed her neck. 

“I love these breasts,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the tip of her left nipple. Then, he grabbed her hand in his, bringing her fingers up against his lips. “I love these hands.”

“Jean,” Mikasa said, wrapping both hands around his neck, drawing her whole naked body closer to her. “I love all of you, too, Jean. I love you all.”

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Jean said, to which Mikasa replied with a silent nod, her moans seemingly trapped at the back of her throat. He placed her forehead against hers, stroking her clitoris some more. 

“I want you in my mouth,” she said, breathlessly. He could feel her inner walls contracting around his cock, inviting him to reach his orgasm at the same time as her. Jean thrusted forward, meeting her body halfway, loving the obscene way his wife’s hips moved to find pleasure in his body. 

“Later,” he said gently. Their bodies were beginning to shine with the sweat running on their skins, and the bed had begun to creak a few minutes ago. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, not with his wife’s pussy wrapped around his cock. “You’re so fucking close, I don’t want you to lose it.”

“But, your mouth-”

“My mouth is for you to sit on,” Jean gasped, pushing deeper. The hand and fingers he was using to stroke her clitoris were already coated in her juices, so Jean switched hands, and brought the wet fingers up to coat her nipples.

Mikasa grabbed his hand, however, and lifted it between the two. She sucked on the thumb that had been on her clit, but pushed his own hand towards his mouth, and Jean understood what she wanted him to do. “You perv,” he joked, licking the remainder of juices on his hand. Soon, Mikasa joined him, and both of their tongues touched across the surface of his skin. “You taste so good, Mikasa.”

He intertwined his fingers with her, and both regained their rhythm from moments ago. “I want to taste you, too,” Mikasa moaned, bending to bite on his earlobe as they both moved against each other. “I want all of you, Kirstein, I want it so much.”

“We can keep going for as long as you want tonight,” Jean said. “You can taste me then.”

“But now, now I-”

“Now, you can make yourself come with my dick,” Jean whispered hoarsely, sucking on her neck, feeling his own pleasure increase each passing second. “Come on, honey, make yourself come on me.”

Mikasa hugged him tighter, squealing his name in between thrusts, her large breasts pressed up against his chest, nipples hardened. He could hear the sounds of her wetness in between her legs, and his cock became even harder at the thought of the puddle she would leave behind. 

“Ah, shit,” Mikasa moaned, hiding her face in his neck as she pushed harder against him. Her breath became more erratic, and Jean used his free hand to stroke her back, supporting her as she used his cock to reach her orgasm. “Jean, I want you to come with me.”

“You know I will,” he groaned in return. The way her inner walls were tightening around his shaft had had him on the edge of orgasm for a steady ten minutes already, and her sweet face, the swaying of her breasts and her voice only added to the building pressure. He’d wanted nothing more than to spill his seed inside her, but Jean wanted to wait until she reached her own climax. His wife’s pleasure came first and foremost, after all.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice becoming higher-pitched the closer she got to the height of her pleasure. Jean buried his hands in her hair and pulled, tilting her head back to expose the curvature of her neck. “Jean, come inside me.”

“Do you want me to fill you up?” Jean smiled, sucking on the skin of her neck and breasts.

“Yes,” Mikasa moaned. “I’m going to scream, Jean, I’m going to scream…”

“Should I do the usual?” he asked gently, bringing her back against his body. Mikasa nodded, her eyes half-lidded and face red from pleasure. Jean kissed her lips, then introduced three fingers inside her mouth, which she began to suck as their thrusts became faster, more erratic. 

She sucked on his fingers and bit on them slightly the moment they both tilted over the edge of their orgasms. Jean gritted his teeth, feeling the pleasure traverse her limbs and torso, reaching the very tips of his toes and fingers as he plunged inside and spilled his seed inside her womb. His body tightened against hers, and Mikasa moaned deeply, spilling her own juice over his cock and on the bed. 

Once he knew she wouldn’t cry out loud, Jean took the fingers out of her mouth, and they both crumbled on the bed next to each other, with his cock still inside her warm wetness. She slid closer to him on the bed and put an arm around his waist, perhaps listening to the loud beating of his heart as he caught his breath. 

“That was…so good,” she whispered, now her voice back to her usual low pitch.

“It was fantastic,” Jean agreed, putting his arm around her waist too. “I love you so much, Ackerman.”

“I love you so, so very much,” she chimed back, giving him tiny, innocent kisses on his chin and neck before looking at him, her gaze tender, tired. “I’m surprised we had so much time on our hands.”

“Well, we played out in the snow all night, didn’t we? They have to be somewhat tired, so I’m hoping they won’t be getting up until noon.” Jean snorted. 

“We should let them sleep in. We’ll wake them before everyone else gets here,” Mikasa said, coming back to the cradle of his arms and chest. Jean hummed in agreement; a quiet morning didn’t sound bad at all. “And you and I should have breakfast in bed.”

“The bed is soaked,” Jean teased, kissing the side of her face. “It’s so wet it’s like an oasis.”

“I blame you,” Mikasa replied without skipping a beat, looking up at him with a smile on her face. “You’re the one to blame for all the wetness.”

“You know how much I like to hear that,” Jean said, smiling back at her. Mikasa neared her face to his, and Jean kissed her gladly, joining his lips with hers in a slow, tired dance. There was not an inch of his body that wasn’t relaxed in pleasure, not one bit of him that didn’t want to stay close to his wife the whole morning. 

“I love you, Jean,” Mikasa whispered. Before he could answer, she pushed him back against the bed, her movements sultry and soft. “I love you like you have no idea. Each day that passes, I love you more.”

Her hands went to stroke his shaft, and Jean took in a sharp breath. She squeezed it and stroked up and down, making him groan out loud. Soon, one of her hands went to cup his testicles, while her other hand stroked his cock steadily. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck yes,” Jean gasped. 

“Do you want more?” Mikasa asked. “There’s still some left in here.”

“There is,” Jean said.

“It’d be a shame to let it go to waste,”

Jean bit his lower lip and lifted his hand to cup her breasts. He ran his thumb over her nipple, and Mikasa bent forward to put his cock in her mouth. Taking advantage of the angle, Jean propped himself with a shoulder and began to suck on one of her nipples, while his hand went between her legs. His spilled orgasm would still be inside her, but Jean couldn’t care less. He moved his fingers the way she liked and albeit she moaned out loud, Mikasa didn’t stop sucking on him.

As with most things in life, she excelled at everything once she got the hang of it. And she’d gotten the hang of taking his cock inside her mouth a while ago, there was no doubt in that. She closed her eyes and went all the way down to the base of his dick, sucking as she came back up, running her tongue along the head of his cock. 

“You are going to come in my mouth,” Mikasa declared, as she licked the tip of his penis. Jean nodded enthusiastically, pushing his hips upwards so his cock could go back into her mouth. Mikasa resumed her movements, and so did he, setting his fingers in the hook shaped she liked so much, stirring her insides to lead her to her third orgasm of the morning. 

Mikasa began to rock her hips back and forth as she sucked him off, moaning harder despite having his cock buried in her throat. Again, Jean didn’t need to ask to know what she was doing. He kissed her cheeks as she came up, wiggling his fingers inside her, urging more pleasure moans to come out of her. 

“Ride my fingers, Mika,” he said encouragingly. “Use my hand and make yourself come.” 

She tightened her throat around his dick when he was inside, and the warmth of his mouth around his shaft soon became too much for Jean to bear. He gritted his teeth, threw his head back, and felt his cum escape his cock. Mikasa pulled him out, giving Jean a perfect sight of her catching all of his semen in her mouth. 

“Fuck,” he said as he spurted out his pleasure, his fingers going quicker still. Mikasa moaned out loud, her voice becoming impossibly high in a second, and the wetness that spilled over his hand told him she’d come for a third time. Jean smiled and sat up, grabbing the few napkins he’d brought from the kitchen to clean the side of her face. 

“That was a lot,” Mikasa said shyly, wiping the drops of semen that had fallen on her breasts. 

“I’m sorry,” Jean said, cupping her face to draw her nearer. He kissed her without qualms, uncaring about the taste of his pleasure in her mouth, stroking her tongue with his for long minutes before pulling apart. “I’m thinking of a warm bath for you and I.”

“You just want to do dirty things to me in the water,” Mikasa said, to which Jean smirked. “Ah, that look in your eyes tells me everything.”

“You caught me, Mrs. Kirstein,” Jean laughed, nuzzling her nose with his and making her smile sweetly. “Can you blame me, though? You’re gorgeous.”

“And you’re so handsome I won’t say no to you,” she tilted her head and kissed his lips, holding his face with both hands. 

Jean closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch, her sweet, soft caresses on his naked skin. There was no bigger bliss than this, no bigger desire in the world, no superior wish other than to be in bed with her, share their warmth, their love for each other. It had taken them a while to get there, but their love was there, intangible, incommensurable, real. She was his, and he was hers, and there was no other truth in that.

“Mama! Papa!” the knocking on the door pulled them out of their trance immediately. Mikasa jumped from the bed at the same time as he did, finding their clothes surprisingly fast. She threw them in his direction as Jean rinsed his face, then ran to their closet to find a set of covers to put them over their bed as Jean ran to unlock the door. 

“Hello, young man,” Jean said when he opened the door. Their son looked up at him, his gray eyes sleepy, his jet-black hair tousled from his time in bed. Smiling, Jean took him in his arms and lifted him off the ground. Jean’s mother often said that looking at him was looking at Jean in Mikasa’s colors. “What are you doing up this early?

“Papa, the baby’s awake,” he said. As much as he looked like him, his personality was all Mikasa. “You two cannot sleep in.”

“Someone’s being bossy again,” Mikasa said, reaching them wrapped in her robe, cheeks still blushed from before. She kissed his cheek and flattened their child’s hair. “Good morning, baby.”

“Good morning, mama,” he said, outstretching his arms so Mikasa could hug him. 

“Hey, don’t you want me to hold you?” Jean teased, giving their boy a kiss on the forehead. His beard made him giggle, and the sound of their son’s laughter filled his heart with sweetness.

“Yes,” he said, opening and closing his little hands in Mikasa’s direction. “I want a hug from mama.”

“Come here, sweet boy,” she said, taking him in her arms. “Papa? Could you go get the baby for me?”

“Yes, dear,” Jean said, kissing her cheek before making his way down the hallway. The snow was falling outside again. The island had been spared of most of the climate effects of the colossal titans’ passing, however winters were getting colder each year. He made a mental note to add more wood to the chimney on the ground floor, thinking it would be best to keep colds at bay when it came to the children.

“So, everyone’s awake?” he said at the door to their child’s room. Sasha was kneeled next to the crib; she was letting their baby squeeze her finger.

“Oi, you should say thanks, dad,” Sasha replied, not drawing her eyes away from her little sister on the crib. “Jenny was about to start crying.”

Sasha wiggled her finger in her direction, and her sister laughed. She was three months old, but she recognized her sibling’s voices anywhere, and Jenny had a particular fondness when it came to playing with Sasha. “Thank you, Sasha,” Jean said, walking closer to his eldest daughter. He gave her a kiss on the head and tousled her hair, making her laugh. “Best older sister in the world.”

“Better,” Sasha said, straightening her back proudly. She was, from head to toe, inside out, all Jean. They both shared their hazel eyes and her hair had changed from black to light brown with the years.  She was long limbed, and the lines of her face were sharp as knives. At eight years old, she stood taller than most of the children her age, and she had a quick wit to snap back, even when it came to adults. “Good morning, papa.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Jean said, taking his daughter in his arms and lifting her off the ground. She hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, giggling from how ticklish his beard was. 

“Where’s mama?” 

“She’s with your brother,” Jean said, looking over his shoulder. “I’m thinking they’ll get started with breakfast.”

“Everyone will be here soon,” Sasha said excitedly. “Do you think uncle Armin will bring Albert?”

“Of course, he won’t want to miss your present,” Jean assured her, grimacing as he spoke again. “You didn’t get him bugs this time, did you? You know he gets scared easily.”

“He needs to learn to be braver,” Sasha laughed, and Jean began to think of a last minute present for Armin’s son if his daughter had, in fact, prepared an insectary for poor little Albert. “They’ll be here soon, won’t they, papa?”

“Maybe they’ll be a bit late,” Jean said, looking out the window. “With the snow and all.”

Sasha’s expression dropped a little at that. “What about the presents?”

“I’m sure we can get started ourselves,” Jean said, giving her daughter a kiss on the tip of her nose. “That way, you get to open two sets of presents by the time uncle Armin and everyone else comes.”

Sasha’s smile became wide again. Jean closed his eyes when she hugged him, not quite believing all of the love that surrounded him. He adored the ways each of them carried his and Mikasa’s physical traits, the way they seemed to have inherited tiny parts of themselves they would carry into the future. 

Upon opening his eyes, Jean noticed baby Jenny stirring in her crib, lifting her chubby arms at him, seemingly jealous of the hug he and Sasha were sharing. “It seems to me your sister needs a hug too,” Jean said, putting Sasha back on the floor. He kneeled to be at her height, then gave her another kiss on the forehead. “Go ask mom if it’s okay we get started on the presents. I’ll be there with you in five.”

“Yes, papa,” Sasha said, giving her sister’s hand a gentle squeeze before running off into the hallway. Jean straightened and stretched his back, hissing when he heard a set of cracks and pops. He leaned over the crib, and their sweet little baby giggled when she saw him. “Your dad is getting really old, you know?”

The baby laughed. 

“Yeah, make fun of me, I’d do it too,” he said, reaching into the crib to take the baby in his arms. She wiggled her arms and legs, laughing when he gave her another kiss. “Good morning, you chubby perfect baby.”

Jenny laughed again, making Jean laugh in turn. He walked with her in his arms, letting their baby squeeze his finger while heading down the stairs. She was just as adorable as her siblings had been, and Jean could already see she would be a carbon copy of her mother in the future. 

Mikasa said she could take after his features as she grew, like Sasha, but Jean had the feeling the only thing their youngest had inherited from him was his name. “Let’s go, kiddo,” he said. “Mama will want to hug you.”

Christmas wasn’t a tradition for the island, but the moment Sasha had heard about it from Gabi, she’d wanted to celebrate it. The prospect of presents twice a year had been too titillating, and perhaps she and Jean enjoyed spoiling their children too much. So, the entirety of winter, they’d spent preparing everything to host Onyakonpon’s strange celebration in their home. 

The last time they’d celebrated christmas, all of their friends had been alive and well. And Mikasa’s heart tightened in nostalgia as she brought out the gifts she’d wrapped for her children, thinking about all the people missing that night, the family lost to the atrocities of war from years ago. 

A giggle drew her attention, and she saw Jean approach the living room with their child in his arms, talking to her in hushed tones. Sasha came running from the kitchen and held her father’s free arm, looking up at him with a face covered in chocolate. A tenderness of sorts spread in her heart, replacing the cold nostalgia that had threatened to overflow her eyes with tears. 

“Mama, can I have chocolate, too?” Henry asked from the couch, swinging his little legs off the edge. 

“Of course you can, sweet boy,” she said, handing him the plate of chocolate treats, smiling when his face lit up in excitement. “Why didn’t you ask before?”

Her son shrugged. “I was waiting for daddy.”

Mikasa looked up at Jean as he and Sasha reached the table, smiling automatically when her daughter went to hug her brother on the couch. “Your son was waiting for you to eat chocolates,” she told him, outstretching her arms to Jean, who passed her their giggling baby to her. “He wanted to share with you.”

“I did,” Henry said solemnly. Sometimes, it was almost eerie to see how much he resembled her personality-wise. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Jean said, lifting their son so he could sit on the couch. He sat their little boy on his lap, and Sasha went to sit by her side. She kissed baby Jenny then gave her another kiss.

From head to toe, Sasha was the split image of Jean. As far as personality went, every mannerism, every word reminded Mikasa of the young boy she’d met at fourteen, the one who had had a crush on her for so long, the one who had loved her in secret and respected every unspoken boundary her teenage self haf lifted against outsiders.

That boy that was now her husband, the man she was raising their children alongside her, the key piece in the unexpected turn her life had taken the moment they’d reunited after three years apart. 

“I’m guessing we should start opening presents, shouldn’t we?” Jean said after taking a few pieces of chocolate. 

“Dad’s right,” Mikasa said. “Kids, do you want to give dad your presents?”

Sasha jumped to her feet, grabbed her brother’s hand and they both ran behind the christmas tree they’d managed to put together despite their neighbors’ curious stares. From there, they brought out a yellow box topped with a red bow. Jean arched his eyebrow, giving her a look. “That looks like something you wrapped, doesn’t it?”

“What a coincidence,” Mikasa replied, focusing on the baby trying to put her hair in her mouth. Jean snorted and gave each of their children a hug when they presented him with the box. She could feel his eyes on her as he undid the bow and ripped the paper, but her own eyes focused on his dexterous fingers moving over the surface, how they found the seams in the wrapping paper, the delicacy of his movements.

An hour in the morning had not been nearly enough, she thought. Surely, they would have more people in the house later today. But with Annie, Armin, Levi and everyone else there, she would have more babysitters at hand so she and Jean could escape to the empty fields of their property, where they could make love for hours and hours. It would be too cold, but that wouldn’t matter if they took their car. 

“Hey, I remember this,” Jean said, pulling out the scarf he’d gotten from her, year ago, when their relationship had been nothing more than a sweet, innocent friendship. Mikasa smiled at him, and little Jenny outstretched her little arms towards him, trying to reach the green scarf. 

“They found it in your drawer, and wanted to give it back to you,” Mikasa said. 

“Very clever kids, saving money,” Jean dug further in the box, pulling out a handful of candies. Henry waved his hands in his direction, making Jean smile. “Here you go, little guy.”

“Thank you, papa,” Henry said, taking the candies in his hand. 

Sasha shook her head, narrowing her eyes reproachingly in her brother’s direction. “Dad, look at the rest of the present.”

Mikasa hadn’t thought her smile could get bigger, but then Jean pulled out the woolen mittens, hats, sucks, ear mufflers, two pairs of it, one green, one black. “I told them I’d already given you that years ago,” she went on, coming to her feet to sit next to him on the couch, with their baby still in her hands. “So, I suggested they could give you something different.”

Jean cleared his throat to speak, but his eyes were still shiny with tears when he looked at her. “Did you make these?”

“I made the mittens, since I know your hands best,” Mikasa said, hoping he could sense the flirtatious tone she’d used. “Sasha and Henry made the rest.”

“I made most of it,” Sasha corrected, rolling her eyes. “Henry can’t knit yet.”

“I decorated,” Henry said, frowning.

“Henry decorated,” Mikasa added, reaching out to squeeze her son’s chubby cheek before looking back at her husband. “It’s not a fancy gift, I know, but the kids wanted to make something for you.”

Jean cupped her face and drew her in, pressing his lips against hers for a long moment. Mikasa could have sworn he poured his heart and soul into their moment together, and she did the same thing. “You guys are all I could ever ask for,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I adore you, Ackerman.”

“Me too, darling,” she said, giving him a peck on the corner of his mouth. 

Not enough words, presents or actions could show him how much she truly loved him, how much his presence had brightened her world, all the things his love had shown her. And while outside, winter had raged for weeks and weeks, to Mikasa, her heart had been frozen in an eternal spring, an evergreen that had grown from the ashes of her previous life, nurtured by his love, by the love she had for him.