A/N- Before anything I have two people in particular to thank.
Andramion for a lovely drawing of Mikasa in her red dress & readartsleep-repeat for helping me with finding music and wonderful dance videos.
I have the art work posted on my tumblr and my profile. Thank you so much, love. You made me so very, very happy.
Eren peered over the kitchen counter as he washed dishes. Hannes had showered and ate and had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd sprawled over his couch. Eren dried his hands and grabbed the spare blanket from the closet, throwing it over Hannes.
He sighed wearily. He should probably call Mikasa. He'd left his cell phone in his jacket pocket at the bar and he knew how she must have tried calling him. She was probably worried sick. He was a little surprised she wasn't here already.
He reached over to grab his house phone when there was a sharp knocking at his door. Frowning, he crept over as silently as he could. It was probably Mikasa—and he braced himself for her scolding. He opened the door—and felt the breath leave his lungs.
"Annie?"
Her blue eyes locked onto his for a split second—then lowered. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Eren?"
It took Mikasa several minutes to try and cool her body and mind.
What had she been thinking?
She pulled in an icy breath as she walked down the sidewalk, her breath fogging before her. She hadn't really realized where she was walking until she'd found herself in front of Eren's building, the apartment complex a little dilapidated, a little weary.
She glanced up at the fourth floor and at the window to the far right. His light was still on.
She felt unusually hesitant as she stood there, her grip on the bottle tightening.
Why hadn't she thrown it away? There was less than half left.
She wanted to knock on his door.
But there was something that held her rooted to the spot, something like guilt wrapping around her throat and lungs. Why had she danced with him? Had it only been the wine muddling her judgment?
No. She'd wanted to dance with him.
One second she'd felt such emptiness, such longing and she knew it wasn't only because Eren had forgotten a silly anniversary but the strain that had constrained their words, their silences, the way they looked at each other, the way they didn't. She wanted to fix it, and fix it badly but she didn't know how. She didn't know how to go about those things, always closed herself off when they got into arguments, her silence infuriating Eren.
But she didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to respond.
She just didn't want to feel so heavy hearted.
And she hadn't been paying attention to the dizzy swaying of her head, or the way her heels had tangled—and then she'd felt herself falling, hadn't really cared to try and right herself.
But she hadn't hit the ground.
He'd caught her.
And for a moment she almost thought she'd imagined someone holding her, almost imagined the hard feel of his chest against hers, against her cheek, the clean, soapy scent of clean male skin, the hard arms wrapped around her.
And the deepness of his voice had thrilled her in a way she'd never felt before.
She'd never danced with someone who could match her so well. She knew she was unusually athletic, knew that many men saw this as an insult to their manhood—but he'd taken control of their movements completely. His every step and push and pull had been strong, sure, sharp, both leading her and allowing her to move the way she'd always wanted to.
Had she ever danced with someone like she'd danced with him?
No. She hadn't. She had always had to restrain the weight of her turns, pull back her reins, forced herself to simply sway from side to side since her partner had never been able to do much more.
And with him…with Levi…She'd been able to spin as fast as she'd wanted, twisted as hard as her legs could twirl her, moved with years of leashed passion, let it all go—and he'd pushed her forward at the exact right moment, always held her up, pulled her back with enough force to perhaps send a weaker woman stumbling—and it had filled her with such wonder, such freedom and elation—and confusion.
She had wanted to kiss him.
She'd let him touch her, move her body, felt chills rake across her skin at the feel of strong hands, the words he'd spoken.
Relax. Let me take control.
And she had—but it had felt like freedom, too.
She'd felt weightless.
And now she felt the guilt paralyze her, crash down on her and bring her back to earth with a vengeance. And she couldn't see Eren. Not tonight.
She turned on her heel, still gripping the damp bottle as her heels clicked over the stone rhythmically. She'd just crossed the street and was about to turn the corner when she heard someone shout.
"Hey—stop, please, wait! Don't go."
Mikasa turned, almost slowly, almost unwillingly. She knew the sound of Eren's voice intimately well—heard the panic crack into his voice, felt her own anxiety surge up in response.
She saw a small woman wrapped in a dark coat standing on the sidewalk before Eren's door—where she had stood only moments ago—couldn't see the color of her hair because her hood was up, but she knew, knew who it was. Eren was a little breathless, obviously having ran down the stairs to catch up to her, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
But his eyes—those piercing eyes—were locked onto the woman in front of him, that fierce glint of determination shining brightly.
Yes, Mikasa knew who the woman was.
Because Eren had only ever looked at Annie that way—with a mixture of supplication, of wonder, determination and fierceness—and seeing it again made Mikasa feel sick to her very bones. She pressed herself against the wall of the building, her nails digging into the rough surface viciously as she tried to slow the pounding of her heart, tried to make herself invisible.
"Annie…Annie why are you here? I thought you said you were leaving the country and you weren't coming back—didn't you? So why are you here, Annie?" Eren straightened, stepping towards her angrily.
Annie shrugged carelessly, her hood beginning to slip back, her corn colored hair glowing beneath the streetlight incandescently. "I…came back." Annie turned away. "Decided to stop by."
Eren grasped her shoulders, shaking her violently, his voice cracking painfully. "You decided to stop by?" He pinned Annie back against metal of the streetlight, towering over her. "You make me fall in love with you, string me along for two years, then decide you're going out of the country and break up with me over the phone minutes before you get on the airplane, telling me to forget about you, about us, about what we had because you weren't ever going to come back—and now you show up at my apartment at four in the morning because you decided to stop by?" Eren shoved her hood back, grasped the back of her hair in his fists, tilting her head back.
She should leave. Mikasa knew that but something didn't let her, some sadistic force keeping her rooted to the shadows as she watched the boy she'd loved since she was a girl, the boy who'd brought her back to life, the man she'd promised to marry, hold the only woman who had ever really owned his heart.
"How could you do that to me, Annie?" He sounded so horribly heart broken, his shaking visible even from where she was standing, tears gathering and dripping down his tortured expression. "Do you know what I went through the night you left? Do you know what I went through for weeks, months after you left?"
Annie looked oddly subdued, allowing Eren to pin her and yell at her, her expression hidden from Mikasa—but she saw her small pale hands travel up Eren's arms, gripping his sleeves.
No, Annie couldn't know what Eren had gone through. The only ones who had really known were her and Armin. She could remember it vividly—the sound of Armin's panicked voice over the phone.
"Mikasa, Eren's at the airport and he got into a fight with a few of the security officers. The cops have him in hand cuffs—but Mikasa he won't calm down. He's not listening to me. He's just screaming for Annie, I think she left and he won't stop—"
She'd hung up and ran, and when she'd finally gotten there it had been worse than she could have imagined. She'd known how much Eren had loved Annie. She'd seen it happen, seen it grow, even let Eren borrow her car for dates, had helped him buy an engagement ring for her—had bottled all of the agony she'd felt watching the boy she loved love someone else.
But it had been worth it, hadn't it? Because he'd been happy.
But then she'd left.
And he'd never really been the same since.
Eren mumbled something—and she couldn't quite catch the words but he dropped his head, their foreheads touching. Eren released his death grip on her, slid his hands down her back, tugging her towards him.
And she needed to leave.
Why couldn't she move?
She'd thought the same thing, been just as paralyzed when Eren had first kissed her. She'd watched over him for those months after Annie had left, washed his clothes, forced him to eat, forced him out of bed to go to school—and it had been one night after she'd come home to find him drunk and sprawled across the kitchen floor that he had suddenly changed the way he'd looked at her.
She'd helped him into bed and he'd pulled her down with him, clumsily cradled her jaw and she'd felt frozen as he hovered over her, everything in her locking into place.
"Thank you, Mikasa. I'm sorry for making you worry. I think…I think I'm over it already. I think I'm ready."
And she'd been pinned by invisible threads as he'd lowered his head, asking herself why she couldn't move, knew he was drunk, knew it was wrong.
But she'd loved him so very, very hopelessly. She loved him past the point of pride. Past the point of anything.
Annie lifted her hands, her fingers tangling in Eren's hair, their lips inches apart. Eren removed the band from Annie's hair, threading his fingers through the golden strands, whispering something, a disbelieving laugh breaking from his lips.
And past all of the things, images, memories ricocheting across her skull there was one thought that rose above them all, that wounded her like no other, that made her knees weak; Eren had never, ever looked at her that way.
She shut her eyes, stumbling forward, dragging her palm across the wall as she finally walked away.
Levi wasn't a spiritual man. He didn't believe in airy things like fate, or destiny—but, it had been a very strange night. He'd stumbled upon a beautiful, tortured wreck of a woman, had danced with her briefly, felt her skin, the scent of her clinging to him as if he'd bedded her, reminding him he hadn't, making him feel restless.
Strawberries, Levi thought to himself as he slid into his car. He wondered if he'd ever be able to see them without the memory of this night flickering within him.
It had simply been a chance meeting. She'd just been a young foolish girl in a scarlet dress, a little too drunk, a little too reckless, dancing alone and he'd been just captivated enough to dance with her.
Just one night, just for a few minutes he'd forgotten about who he was. But it was just one night. A drunken woman who'd stumbled into his bar.
No, Levi didn't believe in silly things like fate.
But he'd only driven for a few minutes before he found her again.
She was on her knees on the side walk, her hand pressed against a fence, her red skirt rucked up and haphazardly strewn about her thighs. He frowned and pulled over, stepping out and walking over to her quickly.
"Mikasa?"
She didn't look up, her frighteningly blank gaze turned inwards, her fingers twined about the fence wires tightly.
Levi lowered himself onto his haunches before her, pushing her hair aside. "Mikasa," He gentled his voice, his fingertips clutching her chin. "Did someone hurt you?"
He should have made sure she had a way to get home—he'd let the surprise of finding out she had a fiancé cloud his judgment, hadn't thought of the danger of a young, half inebriated girl in a scarlet dress walking home at three in the morning.
It took her much too long to respond, her voice thin. "No. I'm fine."
Her other hand was gripping the bottle he'd given her, and he saw that her knees were scraped raw—wondered how many times she'd fallen before she'd decided to stay crumpled in this spot. He sighed, removing his jacket and tugging it over her icy, bare shoulders. He slid one arm around her back, sliding the other beneath her knees. "Hold onto me." He lifted her in his arms, carrying her towards his car. He slid her into the passenger seat, clicking on her seatbelt.
He slid into the driver's seat and cranked up the heater, more for her sake then his. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye as he drove. "Would you like to tell me where you live?"
Her listless gaze was focused on the bottle in her hands, unseeing and unhearing. He breathed in through his nose, the scent of strawberries filling his car.
"If you don't speak up I'm going to take you back to my place."
She finally seemed to hear him, looking up. "I have…I have a fiancé."
He looked at her a little skeptically. "Do you? Then perhaps you should give him a call. Here." He handed her his cell phone crisply, stopping at a red light. "Go on." He prodded. "Tell your fiancé that you're drunk and in a strange man's car. Well, perhaps not so strange since we did just dance alone at a bar together, didn't we? I'm sure he'd be delighted to find out that his betrothed is drunkenly frolicking in bars and wandering the streets at four in the morning, having men pick her up because she decided to sit on the ground like a petulant child throwing a tantrum."
The light turned green.
She didn't take the phone.
He dropped the phone into the cup holder between them, driving through the lonely streets with ease and familiarity. When he spoke he gentled his tone. "If you have a fiancé, Mikasa, why isn't he with you now? Shouldn't he be the one bundling you into his car and taking you to his home?"
She turned away, looking out the window, her pale face reflected in the glass as she spoke quietly. "He's…he's with her."
Ah. Everything clicked into place as Levi turned into his drive way, and he inhaled deeply as he shut off the engine. He watched her carefully. "Your fiancé is with another woman, then?"
Her pale fingers gripped the neck of the bottle in a stranglehold. "He…still loves her. The way he looks at her…" She shut her eyes, dropped her head back, exposing her working throat.
It made sense now. The way she'd looked at him, when she'd said she didn't want to think, the recklessness of her actions one moment and her reservation the next.
He opened his door. "Can you walk?"
She swallowed thickly, nodding. He stepped out and opened her door, helping her out. He unlocked his door and pulled her inside, switching on the lights deftly. "Don't touch anything without permission. The spare bedroom is upstairs. I'll give you a change of clothes so you can shower, though, as you can understand, I do not have any clothing for women."
She nodded slowly, her gaze still lowered. "You live alone?"
He hung his keys up. "I do. Unlike yourself, I have no prior engagements that were conveniently omitted." He slid his jacket off of her and hung it up beside the door. "Come." He wrapped his arm around her slim waist, helping her up his wooden stairs. They'd made it about midway when she stumbled, her heel twisting. "Really," Levi muttered, tightening his grip around her. "Just like a child." He hefted her up against his chest, carrying her up the stairs swiftly.
He swept her into his bedroom, depositing her on the bed. "Stay put. Don't fall asleep." He rummaged through his drawers, tugging out a clean pair of black boxers and a black t shirt. He handed them to her, removing the wine bottle from her clutching fingers and placing it on the nightstand. "The towels are in the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush in the sink drawer. Make sure to scrub all the dirt and blood from your knees, and, well, your body."
She stood a little unsteadily and he wondered if taking a shower in her state was a good idea—wondered if he'd find her passed out on the shower floor. She gripped the door knob to his bathroom door, then paused, peering at him from over her shoulder.
He was momentarily taken by her beauty, the dark curtain of her lashes, the deep black color of her eyes, of her hair, the bright flush on her pale cheeks, by the obvious frailty of her mind and heart. At the moment she didn't look like an inebriated woman who'd stumbled into his bar looking for distraction—she looked like a broken bird. "Thank you…for doing this for me. I'll repay the favor." She opened the door and slipped inside the bathroom, shutting it quietly behind her.
Levi had just finished peeling the dark gray comforter off his bed when Mikasa finally emerged from shower, the steam clinging to her body as she stepped into his bedroom.
He'd been about to snap that it was about damn time she got out when the bareness of her legs silenced him. His shorts fit him neatly but on her they were snug, the flare of her hips raising the hem to the very tops of her thighs, exposing sinfully long legs. His black t shirt fit her perfectly, if not a little tight across her full chest, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide her lovely figure. Her damp black hair fell about face prettily, her skin clean and dewy.
He looked away, snapping a towel over his sheets. "Come. Sit. I need to clean your scraped knees before you go to bed—in the spare bedroom." He grabbed a small first aid kit, rummaging through it as she sat. "Put your legs up over the towel. Knees up. Gods know how much shit you have embedded in your skin." He wiped her scraped knees with an alcohol wipe, gentling when she flinched. She'd placed her head on his pillow and he arched a brow. "Your hair is wet." He threw her another towel.
She caught it, folding it beneath her head. "I can clean my own wounds."
He made a short sound of disbelief, tearing open two gauze pads. "You couldn't even make it up the stairs. I very much doubt your ability to clean and disinfect your wounds properly. Do you know how filthy sidewalks are?"
She looked away, her eyes examining his neatly organized room a little drowsily. "You…like cleanliness, I see."
He nodded, taping the thin gauze over her knees carefully. "Unfortunately not many people do."
She glanced at him, a little sadly, a little sleepily. "You're a kind man, aren't you Levi?"
He paused. "I wouldn't exactly be pope material," He muttered flippantly, throwing the wipes and paper away. "But neither am I the sort of man who'd leave a young girl out on the street." She looked up at him and he held her gaze as he spoke. "You're rather trusting. I could have murdered you by now."
She tilted her head, and he finally saw a dark glint of humor seep into her eyes, found the sight oddly enchanting. "I'm not as helpless as I seem."
"Somehow, I don't doubt that." He narrowed his eyes as he spotted another bloody splotch on her left ankle. "Hell—how many times did you fall?" He bit out, rummaging through the small kit. He tore open another alcohol wipe, gently and thoroughly wiping her bloody ankle. "I'm out of gauze. I have another kit in the kitchen down stairs. Don't move—and don't fall asleep."
He walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs, wondering what the hell he was doing taking a strange woman into his home and bed—without the intention of sleeping with her, anyway. He grabbed the kit and placed it on the small island, clicking it open and searching for gauze.
"You're a kind man, aren't you Levi?"
He shook his head. She was an idiot if she thought him as any kind of saint, or any inch kind.
But he had been kind to her, hadn't he?
He didn't really understand it himself, could perhaps chalk it up to simple, primitive male attraction—but he knew it was something a little deeper. He'd seen her expression, that dull look in her gaze, heard the pain in her voice when she'd said I didn't want to think anymore and it had made him unable to shut her out, unable to simply kick her out of the bar like he should have done.
He shook his head, unable to understand his own actions, grabbing two bottles of water on his way out of the kitchen. He climbed up the stairs and entered his bedroom. "I brought you water—perhaps it'll help sober you." He silenced himself when he looked at her, her body curled tightly in the center of his bed, her eyes shut, her breathing deep and easy. "You're asleep." He muttered, placing the bottles down. "I told you not to bloody fall asleep." He sighed, tearing open the gauze quietly. He grabbed her scraped ankle, carefully applying the gauze over it.
He tossed the wrapper away, tugging the towel off the pillow and out from underneath her body. Her head—and wet hair—was on his pillow, so he scooted her over a little, tugging the comforter over her. He stood looking over her for a few moments, wondering if he should sleep in the guest room.
Like hell. First she breaks into his bar, drinks his wine, spends the night in his home and then takes his bed for herself? A gentleman might've let her sleep alone—but he was no bloody saint and this was his bed. He shut the light off, slipping in beside her.
He eyed the back of her dark head, tried not to think of how close she was. Yes, it had been a while since Levi had had a woman in his bed. And he'd never had a woman sleep in his bed—and just sleep. He turned, facing away from her and shutting his eyes, eyeing the now light blue of the fading night sky.
Levi usually had trouble sleeping but as the muscles in his back and arms softened and relaxed, lulled by the sound of her deep breathing and the unfamiliar and welcome warmth against his back, he slipped into slumber as soon as he shut his eyes.
It was hours later that Mikasa woke, giving a little start when she felt hard arms wrapped around her, the length of his body pressed against her back. She felt his breath against the back of her neck, ruffling her hair gently.
"You still smell like strawberries." She heard him murmur. "Go back to sleep."
She was too tired to do anything else.
Levi woke hearing the persistent buzzing of his cell phone. He muttered a curse beneath his breath, rolling over—finding his bed empty. He fumbled over the night stand until he found his dratted phone, punching the answer button viciously.
"What is it?"
"It's three in the afternoon." Hanji spoke much too energetically, her words jumbled and rapid. "Did you get home okay? You're late. You're never late. I was worried maybe you'd been kidnapped or mugged and were unconscious in an alley somewhere. Erwin is actually heading over there since you weren't answering your phone and well, you know, Erwin's all business when it comes to these sorts of things." He could hear music playing in the background; hear the way Hanji's shoes squeaked over the floor. "Did you forget about the dancing lesson? The couple today at seven?"
Levi peered at the alarm clock on his nightstand. "A couple? I thought it was just that brat?"
"No, no, no." Hanji sung, audibly chewing something. "He's bringing his girlfriend, I think, or something of the sort. I was half distracted by the way you were beating that poor man."
Levi sat up, scanning his room—but she was nowhere to be found. There was the scent of freshly cooked food lingering in the air however, making his stomach rumble willfully. "He was a drunken homeless man trespassing on our property after hours." He shoved the blankets away. "I just woke. I'll be there shortly."
He ended the call, wandered out of his bedroom and down stairs.
Where the devil was she?
He checked for his wallet, his car keys, his car—everything was still in place. It didn't look as if she'd robbed him blind in his sleep—but it looked as if she'd left. He entered the kitchen, finding an impressive arrangement of various breakfast plates. Hash browns, toast, eggs, pancakes and waffles—topped with fresh strawberries. There was a small envelope propped against a tall mug of coffee, his name written in a sharp pretty scrawl across the front.
He forked several slices of strawberries into his mouth as he read.
Thank you for watching over me last night. I had to leave for work early this morning but I managed to make you breakfast as an attempt to express a fraction of my gratitude. I didn't know what you would or wouldn't like so I made several plates. I left a check in the hopes that it would cover whatever I took. Thank you, again. I'm grateful to have met a man like you.
~Mikasa Ackerman
He swallowed the strawberries. He supposed he'd never find out if she tasted like them. Levi put the fork down, taking the small letter with him as he climbed back up his stairs.
Perhaps it was better this way, he mused, pulling his shirt off as he headed into the shower.
I'm grateful to have met a man like you.
If she'd known how much of screw up he was she'd call herself lucky to have escaped him.
Mikasa was just stepping out of her office when she found Eren standing outside the door. She blinked at him a little owlishly, felt her pulse become erratic and weak. He looked a little subdued, a little forlorn, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
"Mikasa…can we talk?"
She knew, of course she did. She'd seen it last night. She knew what he was going to tell her.
Her heart screamed for her to walk away, to maybe step back into her office, shut the door, but she'd only postpone the inevitable.
Not yet.
But she only nodded.
Eren smiled, the expression a little strained. "I had Armin drop me off so we could go in your car."
Mikasa fell into step beside him, tugging her keys out of her purse, tried to hide the shaking of her hands. "Go where?" They tapped down the tile stairs briskly.
"I have something planned for you and me today." He swallowed. "Something…to make up for yesterday."
She froze, her hand gripping the railing. "Yesterday…" He was going to confess. He was going to tell her what happened between him and Annie. He was going to tell her she was back and he was still in love with her and that he was sorry but he couldn't keep being with her—
And suddenly she was in his arms, her face pressed against his throat, and his words were coming out rushed and broken. "I'm sorry, Mikasa." His hand clutched at the back of her head tightly. "I'm sorry for forgetting our anniversary."
Their anniversary?
"Eren—last night I—"
"Sasha told me everything. I'm so sorry. It's just I found Hannes drunk on the side walk and I took him home and I left my cell phone and I just completely forgot, Mikasa, and I'm so sorry."
She was a little too stunned, a little too bewildered to respond, her hand simply bunching the back of his jacket, inhaling his familiar scent, the scent of home. "It's…okay, Eren."
Why hadn't he confessed? Why hadn't he left her already and gone running to Annie?
Why wasn't she relived that he hadn't?
"I'll make it up to you." He grabbed her hand, dragging her down the steps—paused once they reached the bottom. "Though, I'm not sure if you're dressed for it."
She frowned, looking down at her white button up shirt tucked into her dark gray pencil skirt. She had her hair twisted up because it had been hopelessly crimpled and limp, and she wore small sensible heels—nothing like the heels she'd worn last night. She really didn't think her outfit wasn't inappropriate for anything except for maybe hiking.
"Where are we going, Eren?"
He smiled at her brightly, and it had been such a long time since he'd smiled at her that way that she forgot about everything that was wrong, letting him pull her out of her work building like he always had when they were children. "You'll see."
"I thought you didn't offer dancing lessons anymore, Levi?" Erwin spoke a bit distractedly, sipping at his steaming coffee as they walked away from the coffee shop and back towards their studio.
Levi eyed Erwin from the corner of his eye. "I thought you didn't drink coffee anymore."
Erwin smiled a little. "Still defensive, I see. Are you still going to keep what happened this morning a secret?"
Levi pressed his lips together in displeasure. "I simply slept in a little later than usual."
Erwin was about to push but his phone rang. He answered it, holding it to his cheek with his shoulder, holding his coffee with both hands to warm them. "We're right outside, Hanji." He drank his coffee. "Eren? Is that the boy who came for dancing lessons?"
Levi sighed, checking the time. It was six forty-five.
"He'll be right in." He ended the call, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket. "Eren and his fiancée are waiting for you."
Levi arched a brow, reaching out to grasp the handle. "That brat has a fiancée?"
They entered the studio and when Levi spotted the young couple conversing with Hanji he froze.
Of course, Levi thought. Of course.
"Ah, Levi, come here." Hanji dragged the couple towards him instead, oblivious to his—and her—complete shock. "You remember Eren, right? Well this is Mikasa. They want to practice for their wedding dance."
He met her gaze, felt his jaw clench, his breath quickening as he remembered the smooth suppleness of her skin, of her body beneath his hands, the way she'd felt against him, the scent of strawberries that had lingered on his jacket, in his bed, in his car. The way he'd woken with her in his arms, the sensation of holding someone almost completely foreign, but not all together unpleasant, remembered the sound of her little sighs whenever he'd adjusted her against him.
And for a blind moment he was livid—almost furious, enraged that this maddening woman could keep doing this to him, that of all the women the brat could have been engaged to it had to be her. That he would have to watch them together when he wanted her for himself.
She looked different today. Last night she'd had her hair loose and wildly tangled, her make up darker, more pronounced and alluring, her dress revealing and scarlet and now she was all business, her snug pencil skirt and button up shirt neatly tailored, her shoes low and sturdy, her hair up in a neat coil that irked him to no end, her image that of a severe and intimidating business woman.
He felt his gaze slip to her pink lips, saw the way her breathing hitched in response and for just a moment he wondered what she'd do if he kissed her now, because if he didn't find out what she tasted like soon he'd go mad
He'd wondered if she'd tasted like strawberries, he recalled. But he knew that all of this would taste only of venom.
His rage iced over quickly, his brain finally spinning, working, the cogs turning. He inhaled deeply, holding out his hand to her, his gaze a challenge. "It's nice to meet you, Mikasa." He gripped her hand much too tightly, felt her nails bite into his skin in warning. "Rather feels like we've met before, hasn't it?"
A/N-This wasn't supposed to be a multi chapter thing but that is what I usually tell myself before I start merrily tapping away. I want to keep it short but I know I'm probably going to make this into a friggin' monster. Also, I'm going to do the thing (again) where I sort of address all of the people who reviewed. I can only do this when it stays under 20 reviews, mind you. Stormy doesn't want her fingers to fall off. I almost like when I get a small amount of reviews because I can talk to you all.
Midori Aoi-I like making people writhe with the need for more. Oh my, that sounds terribly lewd. But, unintentional flirtation and double meanings aside, I'm very glad to have gained a fan (does that sound pompous because if it does I swear it wasn't my intention) and I genuinely hope I can keep you. I'll work very hard to do so.
ProdigyMeetsStrongestShorty-(ur pen name made me laugh it's friggin' adorable) I had to make the phone ring! Can't make it too easy now, can I? I'm glad I got such a response from you.
Dyingimmortal-Thank you. I know the whole love triangle thing and cheating is a touchy subject for a lot of people and I'm glad you were open minded enough to like my story anyway. I love the way you described my writing. You're too kind.
Ami90-So you like angst, do you? You've come to the right place then because I intend for a bit more torture. I like complications.
Featherelly-I think everyone is cursing the phone (which is making me laugh) and I want to really thank you because you almost always review my works and spoil me with compliments. I kind of think of you as a distant friend. I hope you liked this chapter. You're pretty.
Anna-"I love your Levi. He is so perfect." My Levi? Ahhh, explain (stormy is not so subtly fishing for more compliments) what do you mean my Levi? I love writing from Levi's point of view. You'll probably find that I stick to him most of the time. If I don't it's because I'm forcing myself not to. So thank you.
Ghost-Thank you for advising me on that. I'll try to keep it in check-and thank you for being kind about it. I like the whole 'mastered the art of writing sexual tension' bit I was like, yes, Stormy is a sex goddess. No actually I kind of laughed because I'm just a stuffy book worm.
Chinarai-I'm a little in love with you. I'm not kidding. Your name is another one of the ones I see pop up a lot and whenever it does I kind of stroke the screen fondly (and perhaps a little oddly) and wish I could give you something. Thank you so much. You're perfect. I may or may not check out your work if you don't mind.
Silverashtrees-I wrote more, as requested, Milady. Thank you for liking it.
Alyxielle-Friend! (We've talked only a handful of times but in my head you are friend) Thank you. I rather think Mikasa thinks that way in cannon too. I was going for bittersweet so I'm glad I hit it correctly. I'm sorry! I'll try to keep the heart break to a minimum just for you.
Paranoid--It's being continued!
The turquoise-Thank you, thank you
Plate Captain-(that picture made me both laugh out loud and very confused)thank you for liking it! I hope you liked the update?
Rivamika 5ever-(stormy approves of this name) don't make that face! See? It's being continued. Smile. Unless you hate it or something. Then you can bash me.
RedBloom-Your request has been answered and I'm relived that you liked it. Thank you for encouraging me to write an AU because I was on the fence about it until you pushed me over.
I'm sorry for writing so much down here. I just wanted to thank everyone individually. You're all so very kind to me. I really do adore you all.