because: sometimes i like to play around with symbolism- see if you can spot it!

prompt: "Jeankasa au in which Jean is an American gi that is looking over the damage of Hiroshima after the bomb. He finds a wounded Japanese woman named Mikasa."

yo: i really really hope this turned out alright, i had a ton of fun writing it /smooches

double yo: got prompts? shoot 'em to me on tumblr (hyperphonic)


From her almost-grave among the rubble, her eyes were dark, remorseful, and knocked the GI flat on his starched white ass. "Ma'am," he faltered, taking in the dirty clothes and her mussed hair. "I'm sorry," an apology he hadn't meant to give voice to (hadn't wanted to acknowledge the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach). Casting about, the tawny man offered a hand, calloused fingers curling around her delicate palm as he helped her up.

She was beautiful.

In an odd, ethereal way that he had definitely not encountered before. It was in the sweep of her lips and the way her long, dark hair brushed against the top of her chest. "Your hair is beautiful," he murmurs, before noticing the way she holds her stomach. "And hurt."

He was probably breaking at least seven different rules, and shitting all over protocol, a fact driven home by the way he pulled her into his arms, easily hoisting her small frame up against his chest. "I can help." A nod into his shoulder, and small hands curling into the lapel of his shirt.

"What's your name?" He was trying very hard not to speak into her hair, the dark mop temptingly close to his nose (he could smell the light scent of her shampoo, even for the rubble-dust and smoke in the air). Voice almost as light as her scent, "Mikasa," and then she was closing her eyes, pressing a sweaty forehead against his throat as she focused on breathing.

"My name is Jean, Kirschtein." Another nod, as the military vehicle came into view. "I'm going to take you to our medics alright?" How he was going to explain the girl in his arms, he wasn't sure. But he did know that she was clinging to him now, shaking in his arms and suffering from the loss of her reality.


It is a few days later when he is allowed to visit her in the medical tents. Her form looks appallingly small and malnourished under the grungy white sheets, dark hair and pale skin standing in stark contrast. "Jean," she almost whispers, throat thick.

(He's a little surprised she remembered his name; hers' had never left his mind.)

"Hey," he smiles, sitting in the provided chair, long legs bumping up against the edge of the mattress. "How're you feeling?" The dark girl is quiet for a second, slowly sitting up before regarding him, "better." If only a little.

The light around them is yellow-green and filtering through the canvas, soft lines falling across the bridge of her nose and the downward slant of her sternum. (He thinks he can feel his heart stuttering) "I'm glad."

Silence falls again, and Jean finds that he is content to study her face, sharp eyes tracing the planes of her cheekbones and the way her throat dips into her collarbone. In turn, Mikasa commits the strength of his forearms to memory, the way they tick and tell as his fingers move minutely.

Eventually, she blinks away her uncertainty and meets his (brightbright) gaze. "Why did you save me?"

He looks taken aback for a spilt second, the guilt he had felt before crashing over his heart. (How does he put that into words? How does he say I felt like I owed it, felt like I needed to be human again?). Instead, he shrugs a broad shoulder and slants a crooked grin, "it just seemed right."

She doesn't buy it at all.

That much is clear when she pats the mattress beside her, meeting his bewildered glance with a droll look of her own. "Please."

And who is he to refuse?

Once he is situated beside her, Mikasa folds against his chest, palms coming up to curl into his lapels much like when he first met her. "Thank you," it is breathed against his throat and he feels it sink into the skin there; warm and earnest and directed at him.

Strong arms come up to wrap around her, "I- You're- you're welcome."