Here is ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ
You like her, but she doesn't know who she likes with him in the picture.
(Mikasa x f!reader)
All rights to the creator of AOT I don't own AOT nor any of the images/songs/gifs/characters in the story I only own the plot of this bo...
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Yelena strode back to her room with a kiss on your head. It was officially over. Was Armin a future teller? Besides the point because she was out of your grasp. She was gone. You were sat on the couch, arms caved in between your knees. The tv was blank in front of you, you hated it. You hated the house you were in. Was it because of Yelena, Armin, or your mom? No.
It was because you didn't like the doubt that drowned your system. It was clinging to your lungs making it hard to breathe. It was tightening around your mind making you blind to your actions. It was suffocating your entire system. And now that Yelena was gone, who would you run to if not reality for solutions?
Now it was dumb of you. Dumb, dumb. You promised not to play with Yelena's emotions anymore... but Mikasa wasn't in that conversation, per se. You quickly walked down the halls to your tiny laundry room. A dryer and washer were beside each other, shelves full of laundry needs, clothes, and bags overhead. You remembered it was your day to do laundry, the very few items you shift through the week never changed too much, but you know there was one item you cherished, more like a set of lace.
Opening the dryer you tugged and tossed items around the room and the tiny circle of silver. Then, you found it. A shirt Mikasa gave you, drenched in dark red. It hangs off your shoulder and hides your figure, but the sheer length of it gives the illusion of alluring acts. Biting your lip with a smile, you toss it on top of the dryer before shoving all the clothes back into the machine. You shut the door and look up at the shelves. They were lines of wire and a great use for hanging clothes to dry.
Your mom didn't really like to be nosy, instead, she made a comforting environment with the exception of her... more abrasive comments. Shaking your head, your e/c eyes searched for the black set of lace you got from a fancy shop. A pleased gasp fell from your lips as the bra and panties made your view. Your fingers caress the fabric as you bring it towards you.
You internally squeal, striping without a second thought. You button up the dress-like shirt down making its way above your knees and hiding anything underneath.
You hurry with your usual routine when wanting to leave. You grab a pen from the floor of the kitchen and rip some paper. Scribbling down an excuse you tape it to a cabinet. Now, you're ready, and as rash as this decision may be, you could give less than two shits.
You were mad at Mikasa. She folded to Eren's words and basically defended him, holding you back. So, what better way to get revenge than showing her how much better you are than Eren?
You slip on some black crocs and find a black loose-knit sweater to wear over the dress shirt. Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you were ready. You whispered a quick wish of silence following you before opening the usually loud door. Sighing out of gratitude you quickly slip out, legs shivering from the chilly weather. The rain had stopped pouring hours ago, maybe once you were in your own house it halted entirely.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, scurrying off to the house next door. The Yeager's. The leftover rainwater dripped off of structures from their house. Following the sidewalk and avoiding any puddles, you make it to the bigger house. "Okay...okay," you whisper to yourself, turning on your phone.
You open 'phone' and click the first starred person. Mikasa Ackerman. Your line dials buzz-hold-buzz is the pattern until you hear a click. Before you can sigh in relief, an automated voice answers, "Your call has been forwarded to-" You hang up, biting your tongue. It was eleven at night, you'd think she'd pick up, awake from prior events. But, maybe she was tired, knocking out immediately when you left. Of course, once you left. You were a beacon of stress that caused everyone pain-
No.
You can't do that. You put together a semi-good outfit from the time span you had and walked over here in cold weather. You're going to see her. You need to.
You shove down all your thoughts, you've been doing that a lot recently. Ignoring that, you tap a message and immediately hit send, not thinking.
Future Wife<3
Come downstairs and let me in
Less than five seconds later, you hear shuffling albeit quiet. Next thing you know, you're face to face with the girl of your dreams, determined to prove Eren wrong. "Hey-" "May I come in?" She stutters out a yes before opening the door wider. The tension is thick, but you know she notices the shirt you're wearing. You clear your throat, shaking off your crocs. "Could you hold this?" She nods, remaining silent as she takes your phone, fingertips brushing against yours. You want to fold, come undone over that simple touch, yet you would slap yourself if that happened. Holding resolve, you take off your sweater, only in the barely long shirt and lingerie. Fuck, you want to back out.
She gawks at your shirt. "Is it okay?" She nods at your question, handing you back your phone. You take it, stepping closer. "Can we go to your room, Mika?" The nickname rolls off your tongue like honey, a tiny tint paints her cheeks, if you weren't so close you wouldn't have noticed. She leads you up the immense staircase. A flashback of what happened slaps you. Why were you like that?
You shove that down, gulping when she opens her door, stepping in first and holding it open for you. You smile with a head nod walking in. She shuts it, leaning against the frame as you sit on the edge of her bed.
It's awkward. You forget that Miikasa held you back, and once again, you messed up, uttering "I do hate you, Mikasa."
Her dark gray hues stare at you. Why were you folding so easily? "I'm... Um, would you mind sitting next to me?" You pat the plush bed, and she moves, wary. You hate yourself for making her this way. It was your fault.
She sits next to you, hands beside her outer thighs. You side-glance her before gazing at her walls. "I like the pink better." She follows your gaze, humming. "I don't know, it was total princess." You chuckle lightly slapping her arm. "That was your style as a ten-year-old." She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." Your hand stays on her lean bicep. She was wearing a long, short-sleeved shirt to sleep, you couldn't tell if there was anything underneath. You clear your throat once again.
Why were you here? "I'm... mad." You gulp seeing her look at your side profile. "I am too." You smile, genuine. "I'm glad." You gaze into her eyes. "At least I now know you aren't a robot." She smiles back at you. "You should've known that at the skatepark." Your eyes widen at her remark, pleased you two are back at teasing. "Touché." You nibble on your bottom lip.
"I think I'm sorry," You whisper to her, fluttering your eyelashes. She raises her eyebrows pursing her lips. "What do you mean?" You gulp, audibly. "I think..." You move your hand up to her shoulder. A silent voice tells you to stop, rewind and do this the right way. "I'm sorry..." She inhales deeply. "Why?" Her hand twitches. She wants to touch you. "Because I'm fucked when it comes to you." Your voice wavers, internally cursing yourself as you cup her rosy cheek. "Y/n-" She utters from her lips before they're on yours.
