disclaimer: if i owned snk, there would be far more male frontal nudity. juuuust sayin.
because: one time, in my way wayyyy back of writing, (when dinosaurs and bad semicolon use roamed the earth) i decided to start a "drabble collection" and some little shit got on me for my "drabbles" being "too long". because apparently in order for a piece of writing to be considered a drabble it has to be one hundred words or less. hahahahaha no.
(but let's not talk about how i now call everything too short to be a oneshot a "vignette")
author's note: to this day, one of my favorite fics is despotic, quixotic and everlasting by the wildly talented bluegreenapples. so i figured that it was time to contribute a vignette collection of my own.
my plan is for this to hang out around T rating wise, and mostly be jeankasa. buuut knowing me, the rating will vary and other ships will sneak in…. it'll be an adventure~
I. Nights were hot, lips and teeth and so much love. Mornings were cool and clear, hidden smiles and secret glances, apologizing for the empty bed.
Mikasa told herself that it didn't bother her. Honest. She was a warrior, fighting for the hope of mankind, she was strong and cold and- his. She was his and she knew it. She was his and it did bother her to wake up to an empty bed every day. (Cold sheets, bright light, his scent still clinging to the pillows.) It was jarring and impersonal and wrong.
But it was also to be expected.
The Scouting Legion wasn't a place to form attachments. Bonds were liabilities and distractions and dangerous to a team if broken. (And where would you be then?)
Mornings were scheduled up to the point of insanity, training at six, breakfast at seven thirty, check in with your squad leader at eight. (on and on and on. Never a second to breathe.) It was frustrating, and it certainly didn't lend itself towards trysts.
Mikasa knew all of this, she had known it going in, yet it still made her chest ache when she woke up alone. (Alone and sore and so terribly cold.) He knew it too, because he would always stand close to her in the kitchen, brushing his hand against her leg in apology. (It wasn't the same though, as the rest of their team was there and they didn't- couldn't know...)
It was inescapable.
It was completely unfair.
But when he caught her eye across the table at breakfast his smile was brilliant. And when they would pass in the hallways during the afternoon, he'd grab her wrist and pull her in for a kiss. (usually sending a stack of papers flying in the process.) At dinner he'd watch her, tawny eyes bright, and she could practically feel the heat creeping up her torso. (She wanted him so bad.) It would never be long before one of them would leave (closely followed by the other), quietly slipping into the hallway and away from their comrades.
And it was worth it, because when Jean's larger frame pressed her to the door of his bunk, and she felt his hands trace down the thick straps of her 3dmg harnesses, morning was the last thing on her mind.