take your time (coming home)

“The balcony really is perfect!” is the first thing she squeals as she enters the apartment, running her hands along the guardrails and leaning over to see the park below. They’re not too high up - just the 5th floor, but she gets a bit of a rush just from where she’s standing. 

Behind her, Mikasa and Eren are maneuvering the couch through the door with Armin directing them.

“Tilt it a little more, love,” Armin calls out, putting his hands on the back of the sofa to help guide them in.

“Anything you ask, Mr. Arlert ,” Eren practically coos, pronouncing his name suggestively and looking so sickeningly in love that even Historia has to look away for a moment.

Still in the hall, Mikasa deadpans, “he was already Mr. Arlert before, Eren. You don’t have to say his name like it’s the one that’s changed.”

Immediately, and predictably, Eren objects, though his face is scrunched in concentration as he backs his way into the room. “But we’re Mr. and Mr. Arlert now. It’s changed because we both share the name!”

Mikasa rolls her eyes a little, but she concedes the point, making Historia giggle from her place by the balcony doors. Sweeping back into the room, she twirls and gracefully plops down onto the couch only moments after it’s been placed down, pulling Armin down next to her in all of one motion. He lands next to her and bounces a little in place, but he’s easily steadied by Historia’s body leaning against his.

“This really is so great! You guys are like adult-adults now - with car payments and bills and a place of your own!” She squeals out in excitement, jostling Armin a little.

“We had that all before, H. The only thing that’s different is our names on a piece of paper,” Eren points out, scrunching his face up a bit as he takes a seat on the arm nearest Armin.

“And we’re 25. We’ve been adult-adults for at least 4 years,” Mikasa adds, leaning against the opposite arm.

Historia rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “Shut up. I just mean that you guys are starting your lives together already. As a kid, finding your soulmate, getting a job, and getting married were, like, the apex of what I imagined adult life would look like. It was how I knew I’d make it! I’m just saying that you guys have achieved what baby Historia dreamed about!” She explains exuberantly, raising her hands up high and stretching them outwards.

Armin smiles at her in agreement. “I kind of see what you mean. Before, everything had already been perfect, but now that we’re married, it’s like something’s brighter about the world.”

“Marriage is a societal construct created to cater to the misogynistic patriarchy,” Mikasa deadpans, looking unimpressed by their display.

Armin and Historia share an amused look when Eren practically growls at her and begins another one of his patented soulmate spiels. This happens every so often where Mikasa likes to say something off-handedley about soulmates or romance or marriage, just to rile Eren up. He reacts in the same predictable manner as always - yelling with a passion that’s probably a little too intense for the moment. He was always a little sensitive about the topic - especially when it came to Mikasa.

Historia likes to think she does this because Mikasa gets bored and enjoys the noise Eren makes when he gets fired up.

(Actually - now that she thinks about it - Mikasa likes to do that with her too - especially when they’re drunk. 

While Armin was the one to hold her back and soothe her into submission when a too-drunk person trampled all over her at bars, Mikasa was the one rubbing her shoulders, whispering encouragement into her ear. Figuratively, of course. She wasn't much of a touchy type of person. 

They really did make it feel like there was an angel and a devil sitting on opposite ends of her shoulders.

Truthfully, most times, she preferred the devil. 

And most times, it was Mikasa finishing her fight for her, whisking her away and stepping in to complete the knockout - not that it made it any less exciting. Cheering for Mikasa was nearly just as fun as throwing the first punch.)

Mikasa likes excitement, likes challenges, likes protecting and being able to protect people. It’s probably why she enjoyed such a dangerous career and why she loved fighting in the gyms nearby, but it makes Historia wonder if she actually believes what she says to Eren. Does she not want to find her soulmate? Or does she just not want to get married?

Mikasa had always been a bit of a tough nut to crack. It took several years of living together to understand the nuances of her expressions, and even now, it’s still difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Historia likes to think they’re close - like so super close that she’s been able to predict which scarf she’ll wear on which day of the week since their junior year of college - but getting her to open up about things is like pulling teeth! They’ve had conversations about their own soulmates, but it was mostly Mikasa listening earnestly while Historia rambled on. She always figured that it was because Mikasa only wanted to talk about soulmates to her own soulmate, but with the way Eren reacts every time Mikasa brings it up, it’s likely she doesn’t talk to him about her true feelings either. 

Unless they are her true feelings. But that can’t be true - can it?

So, perhaps a bit impulsively, she decides to ask, “Mikasa, do you not want to find your soulmate?”

Eren’s voice dies mid-rant. Armin startles a little next to her, turning to look down at her in surprise before glancing worriedly back at Mikasa, whose face has gone carefully blank.

“Why do you ask that?”

Historia shrugs a little in embarrassment, but she still can’t contain her curiosity. “You’ve never really talked about it before, and the way you tease Eren - I just thought, well - I don’t know. I just wanted to know how you feel about it, is all.”

“Tch, of course she does,” Eren answers dismissively, leaning back and using Armin’s shoulder to balance himself on the couch.

Historia sends him a glare, as if to say, I wasn’t asking you, bonehead. Luckily, Armin picks up on their weird shared twin telepathy (or at least that’s what she calls it in her head) and elbows his husband in the leg, shaking his head disapprovingly. Eren holds his arms out in front of him, like he’s asking what he did wrong, before rolling his eyes and motioning towards Mikasa with an errant hand. “Tell them, ‘Kasa.”

Mikasa shrugs and concedes the fact. “I do,” she agrees.

Historia sits and waits, willing her to offer something more, but Mikasa maintains her unyielding countenance. After several moments, it’s her turn to be elbowed by her soulmate, reminding her that she can’t force anything out of Mikasa that she wasn’t willing to share. Pouting, Historia turns away. “Fine, keep your secrets, o’ stoic one.”

That earns a slight grin from Mikasa, who hides it by standing straight and motioning towards door. “Let’s get the beds and finish up.”

With a salute, Eren trots after her with Armin and Historia just behind him. 

The apartment they'd decided on was the one Mikasa had expressed interest in on the day she took her tour. It was true that Historia probably didn't even need to go on the tours after all, but she just wanted to be sure! 

Their move-in dates differed by a few days, but in a spot of luck, they managed to get units on the same floor. Historia had been all too happy when she heard that bit of information. It would be all too easy to bother the boys whenever they felt like it, especially on days they knew that Armin cooked.

Though, in reality, it was probably going to be Mikasa doing most of the disturbing. She really could be the biggest mother hen - not that Historia could blame her. Eren tended to be a slob and usually forgot to take care of himself when he was really focused on something (which was near always). Armin did a good job of reminding him to step back into reality, but he often left the mothering to Mikasa.

Living separately but still relatively close reminds her a lot of their days in university - except less Armin dragging her out to go study at the library and more getting mimosa-drunk on sundays. 

Once they’re all moved and settled in, Historia finds that it’s actually a nice change - not that not living with her soulmate was a good thing! She actually misses Armin more than she’ll probably admit to him out loud. Even though they’re literally 6 doors down from each other, it’s not the same as waking up every morning and seeing Armin slaving over the stove in only his bugs bunny pajama bottoms, smiling brightly at her even though it’s early enough that his eyes aren’t completely open yet. 

But living with only Mikasa is great too! They were already more than familiar with each other’s lifestyles, after having spent the last 7ish years living together, so it was easy peezy to get used to living only with each other again. Mikasa was a neat, orderly, and thoughtful roommate, and Historia can only hope she thought the same about her. They coexisted nicely together and enjoyed the girl time that was afforded to them now that Eren didn’t stake his territory in the living room. It was nice spending so much time with her.

That didn’t mean she neglected her soulmate duties to Armin, though. They were still rather attached at the hip, and when they weren’t, they were texting each other throughout the day. She liked to galivant off with him and Eren on the days that Mikasa worked and she didn’t.

On one such day, two weeks after moving into the apartment, Historia finds herself sitting across from the lovebirds at a cute little cafe she found on yelp. It’s a sunday, and she’s already 3 and a half mimosas in. With how small she is, she can admit that she should probably cut herself off soon before she drinks her bodyweight in champagne and becomes another casualty that Armin has to look after. His husband has already drowned himself in 6, and he’s beginning to slur just the slightest bit, his arm slung around Armin’s shoulders as he rambles on.

“I’m just sayin’ that I’m a bit worried for her, y’know?” Eren says, waving around his half-filled glass. Historia is nodding earnestly along to him, nursing her own cup, while Armin is trying near-desperately to flag down the waitress for their check. Smart boy , Historia thinks.

“Like - she deserves some happiness, too, y’know? She’s always taken care of me because she thinks she owes it to me, but I want her to be happy too,” Eren says, to Armin’s apparent horror, a little tearfully. 

Historia, a former Delta Sigma Theta member, reacts mostly on instinct, leaning over to pat his arm comfortingly. “No, no,” she replies, shaking her head adamantly. “She is happy. We make her happy. You’re a good soulmate, Eren,” she reassures, blinking back her own tears when Eren’s lower lip trembles a little. 

“You think so?” He asks, and Historia can really feel the alcohol in her own system because she nods tearfully back at him.

“Of course! She loves you!”

“Even if I haven’t found her soulmate yet?” 

And Historia can’t help the lone tear that slips down her cheek in sympathy. Anytime she saw someone act so beaten down, she couldn’t stop the way her heart always shattered. Across from her, Armin releases a strangled sound of distress just as he hands the waitress his card. 

“You know she would never hold that against you, Eren,” Armin reassures, finally able to join the conversation. He’s rubbing Eren’s back comfortingly while shooting Historia a grateful smile, probably for trying to deescalate the situation even though she’s over here blubbering over it too. “She’s the most pragmatic one of us all. She would never blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

That has Eren nodding a little blearily at him in acceptance. “That makes sense. She never really does get mad at me, even when I probably deserve it.”

Well, Historia can’t really argue with that. Eren really was such a brat sometimes, but Mikasa never really blew up on him for it.

After some more reassuring, they get up to leave. Eren’s a little wobbly, so he has to hold onto Armin for the walk out of the building - not that he needed an excuse to. Now that he’s done angsting over Mikasa’s lovelife, he’s suddenly found interest in Armin’s hair, running one hand through it as he leans over and rests his cheek against the top of his head. 

Armin is fighting a flush when he complains. “Eren, you’re making it hard to walk.”

“Don’t care. Your hair always smells like sunshine,” he responds wistfully, placing a clumsy kiss where his cheek was before. 

That definitely earns a blush, to which Historia giggles at teasingly, swinging around to hip bump Armin. Sunshine, she mouths at him with a small smirk, and he responds by covering her face with his free hand, pushing her away. Another peel of laughter escapes her as she swings around blindly, removing his hand and apprehending his other arm to lean against. He stumbles a bit to get used to the weight of two other people clinging onto him, but he adjusts quickly, instead only sighing happily.

The walk home is only 5 blocks. Armin had wanted to drive, but Historia likes it when they all drink so she pitched the idea of walking. The streets are pretty busy, and her and Eren have to stand a little closer to Armin so that they can all fit on the sidewalk. It isn’t until someone bumps into Eren and almost causes another mimosa-fueled drunken row that Historia decides to walk in front of them to save room. 

Eren is talking a little louder than what’s probably considered polite, so she’s still able to be a part of the conversation even if she’s a few paces ahead. It’s only when she stops hearing his voice that she knows they stopped walking. Historia turns around curiously and is met with wide, excited eyes. 

“Historia!” Armin cries out, pointing at her. “Your light is on!”

Eren’s jaw drops open, like actually drops open, while Historia faintly points to herself, as if to ask me? Really me?

Armin is nodding emphatically, smiling so wide that his lips look like they might split his cheeks, and in an instant they’re colliding together. Armin lifts and swings Historia around while it looks like Eren is still trying to wrap his head around the new revelation. The crowd moves around them like they’re a permanent block on the sidewalk, not bothering to glance at them for longer than a second, which is something Historia’s grateful for because she needs a few seconds to process this.

This was the first time her light went off in all of the 10 years she’s known Armin. She knew that, realistically, this day was coming, but it was always so abstract in her head - a wish and a longing but not reality. Now that it’s here, it’s left her a little winded. Coupled with the alcohol still in her system, she feels absolutely drunk on giddiness and excitement and nervousness, and once Armin sets her down, she has to hold onto his arms to steady herself. 

“H-how bright is it?” She asks tremulously, looking up at his baby blues with a pair of her own. 

“Not too bright, but not too dim either. I think…” he squints, pursing his lips as if he’s considering something, “they’re probably a good few blocks away still. We should get going.”

Historia nods determinedly in agreement, and it’s at this moment that Eren wakes from his stupor. “Well, what are we waiting for, then!” He cries out, moving to step between them. He bends over and looks at her from over his shoulder. “Hop on, Historia! Let’s get a move on!” 

“What - Eren?” Armin protests, but Historia’s already clambering up his back without further prompting. She really was getting a little dizzy from all that blood rushing up to her head, and getting carried does seem like the best option.

“Direct us from behind, babe!” Eren calls out before he begins walking.

She can tell he’s still probably a little too tipsy to be doing this, but she has to admire his resolve. He only stumbles maybe once, and that’s because she tightened her grip and almost choked him once Armin began to excitedly tell them that the light was getting brighter. 

Her heart is positively pounding within her after two blocks. Eren is beginning to sweat, probably because she’s beginning to sweat, and it’s kind of gross and awkward, but they don’t really notice anything more than what’s in front of them. Armin has gone silent from behind them, which must mean that they're going the right way. That only serves to fuel another kaleidoscope of butterflies surging inside her belly. 

A gasp behind them has Eren stepping on his heels to pull them to a stop. They both look anxiously over their shoulders, only to find Armin holding a hand over his eyes. “Wow, it’s almost too bright to stare at. We’re really, really close, His,” Armin declares, wincing a little when he takes his hand away. He turns to look around them and startles at something in the distance. 

Historia and Eren both whip their heads around to follow his gaze, only to find people in a crowd being briskly shoved to the side.

“Do you think...” Historia asks, faintly. 

“Oh, hell yeah,” Eren confirms, already twisting around to grab Historia from off his back. He manhandles her and lifts her by the under part of her arms with little trouble. Usually, she would kick someone in the shin for treating her like this, but instead, she’s so nervous that she can only hang limply from his hands like a doll. 

Thankfully, Armin tries to step in, pulled back into focus by Historia’s strangled protest. “Eren, put her down!” 

“No, wait! I have an idea!” He exclaims, before holding her out in front of him. He presents her to the crowded streets, and distantly, she can hear the Circle of Life play in the back of her mind. But then, he’s lifting her even higher, sitting her atop one of his shoulders. 

This sends her squealing, arms wrapping around his head to hold on for dear life.

“Eren!” Historia and Armin both cry out in indignation. 

She’s never been this high before. Eren is 6’2 for Pete’s sake! 

Oh gosh, I don’t feel well, she thinks as she tries to steady herself. Armin is trying to get her down, more worried about her cracking her head on the concrete beneath them than Eren apparently is. 

“Do your job, soulmate!” Eren commands, whisking Historia away from Armin and causing her to let out another squeal of distress. 

“But - ”

He’s cut off by a nearby shout. “There!” 

All at once, the three of them freeze. Unsurprisingly, it’s Eren who whirls around first, pulling Historia along with him. This time, she nearly tips off from the back, but Armin is there to hold her back up. When she’s righted, she begins to slap his head. 

“Eren, put me down now!” She yells, finally having enough of it. 

He winces, trying to escape her blows. “Ow, ow - stop! Okay!” He says, letting her slide off. Armin is there to guide her down, holding onto her arms as she hops down. 

“Are you okay, Historia?” He asks worriedly, patting down her hair as she adjusts the strapless top she’s wearing. 

She nods off-handedly towards her soulmate once everything is straightened out before she’s swiveling to glare at Eren, mouth set in the firmest frown line she’s capable of. “You jerk! You can’t just manhandle me like I’m a child!” 

He holds out his hands in defense, scrunching up his face as if he’s affronted by her anger. “I was just trying to help! You’re so damn tiny that there was no way they were gonna find you in the crowd.”

Historia gasps dramatically, recoiling like she’s been hit. That asshole knows that that was a sore spot for her! “You take that back, Eren Arlert!”

“Uh, guys?” Armin tries to intervene, sounding vaguely nervous. 

You know Eren is serious about something when he decides not to react to the mention of his newly changed last name. 

“I won’t! Don’t be ungrateful, you brat. We’re just trying to find you your soulmate before you turn into an old hag!” This time, they both gasp, holding their hands to their faces in shock. “Oh my god, I think I’m still drunk,” he says, looking faintly ill while she stares back with her own wide eyes.

“Guys, really -”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Historia whispers, looking genuinely both hurt and in disbelief.

“I can’t either,” he says, holding a hand to his face before he’s peeking his eyes through his fingers. “Please don’t tell, Mikasa.”

An evil grin spreads across Historia’s lips. “I am so going to tell -”

“GUYS!”

Both of them freeze, startled completely by Armin’s raised voice. He never yells at them - not even to get their attention. At once, they start to point at each other, crying out, “He/She started it!”

But he’s not even looking at them. Instead, his eyes are squinted and directed pointedly at the ground. This immediately strikes her as odd, so she squints her eyes back at him, cocking her head in confusion. She’s about to ask about why he’s staring at the floor when a throat clears, and suddenly, everything rushes back to her. She remembers where she is and why she was arguing with Eren in the first place, and all the blood drains from her face.

She’s almost too scared to look. She probably just made the most horrific first impression she could have made - at one of the most pivotal moments of her life, to boot. She was petulant and bossy and she really was acting like a child - why would someone ever want her? Oh no, oh crap!

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Armin puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and steps beside her, trying to give support where he can. She knows that he knows that he can’t make the first move for her. This has to be completely her, so she sucks in a breath and looks towards her future.

Only to find a pair of breasts at eye level. Historia blinks and begins to trail her eyes upwards, eyes slowly getting wider the higher she goes. “Holy crap,” she utters when she finally meets her soulmate’s gaze, “you’re really tall!”

The woman narrows her eyes in response, frowning. “And you’re really short,” she retorts, voice dark and raspy but still sharply feminine. It makes the tips of her ears begin to burn because - holy hell, if a voice could be hot, it was definitely this woman’s!

It distracts her momentarily, and she lets her eyes wander before she can help herself. The woman really is tall - Historia has to physically turn her head to meet her eyes, but it’s no hardship, she finds. The prize at the end of her gaze is totally worth it. The woman’s eyes are a deep and rich brown that she wants to melt into, even if they’re hardened with wariness. The sharp lines of her face fit together rather beautifully, if a little rugged, and it matches the way her short hair is pulled back, a few stray pieces falling in the front. Historia’s eyes get stuck on the smirk that’s appeared on her lips, because they’re dark and pulled back into something dangerous, and she really was still feeling those mimosas because all of a sudden she finds herself wanting to swoon.

She’s read about and prepared herself for that rush of endorphins you get when you first meet your soulmate, but they really weren’t messing around when they said the chemistry was instant. There was no way Sapphic Weekly could have prepared her for this. This was madness, this was overwhelming, this was everything she ever dreamt of !

Her other half doesn’t seem to be as incapacitated, however. “Finished looking there, shorty? Or do you want a picture, too?” The woman taunts, and suddenly that smirk was looking less attractive and more irritating. 

Historia crosses her arms over her chest and turns her nose up at her. “A picture? Why would I want one now when I know you'll be sending them yourself sooner or later?” she replies, giving her a once over with a raised eyebrow. Her soulmate was...hot, Historia would admit - but she also looked a bit like a fuckboy. Not that she was complaining. It worked terribly well for her. 

The woman’s eyes narrow before she huffs out a biting laugh. “If you’re lucky.”

“I have a good feeling that I will be,” Historia responds nonchalantly, though the grin that blossoms across her face is borderline salacious, enough so that she can practically feel Armin turn beet red.

The shorter woman next to her barks out a laugh at the innuendo, taking delight in the way her companion’s eyes narrow in confusion and then go wide, tops of her cheeks tinting red. Scowling, she mutters out a, “fuck off, Annie,” before she’s back to staring imperiously down at Historia.

Historia matches that gaze with her own. Then, she sticks her hand out. “My name’s Historia Reiss. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, willing her voice not waver with the nerves she’s feeling. 

The other woman’s hand grasps hers almost gently, engulfing it in her much larger one. The difference in their skin tone is eye-catching, and Historia almost wants to take a minute to appreciate it, but the woman’s voice drags her eyes upward. “You too. Name’s Ymir Andersen.”

Almost immediately, Armin and the woman by Ymir’s side imperceptibly relax. Historia surmises that the light must have gone away for them. First touch and a general acknowledgement of each other’s status was how her light had disappeared for Armin and Eren way back when they met towards the end of high school. 

Historia turns to the woman - Annie, Ymir had called her - and offers a greeting of her own, smiling brightly. It wouldn’t do to not acknowledge the person who helped lead them to this moment, especially when she knows that she’ll probably be initiated into their homiesexual family eventually, and more specifically, their groupchat sooner rather than later. Annie nods back, looking over her a little warily - which, fair. She was definitely channeling sorority pledge Historia Reiss today, which was not her best form, but she was confident that she could win her over. If nothing else, they could bond over the fact Ymir’s soul apparently had a type. She had no doubt that they would get clocked as sisters immediately if anyone were to see them together, and with Armin there, they might as well be triplets. 

Armin and Eren introduce themselves eventually as well, and there are a few awkward seconds where they continue to stare at each other, willing the other to make the first move. Oddly enough, Ymir was beginning to look a little green in the face, eyes darting away from Historia’s own. Annie notices this immediately and rolls her eyes, elbowing her soulmate to prompt her to open her mouth. 

Ymir swallows visibly, looking put out, before she glances back at Historia’s wide baby blues. If possible, it makes her pale even more. 

“Do you wanna get out of here and, uh,” she clears her throat, looking extremely uncomfortable, “talk? Get to know each other and shit.”

Like the sun, Historia brightens, a beam rising upon her lips. She would very much like to get to know Ymir. Letting out a nervous giggle, she nods. “That’d be nice.”

That adds some color back to Ymir’s face, but it’s mostly just red. “Right - cool. Right,” Ymir stammers, before shaking her head firmly, as if trying to reclaim a grasp on her facial features. She nods her head in the opposite direction, asking, “Wanna get a coffee or somethin’?”

Historia immediately agrees before stopping and looking a little sheepish. “We just came back from brunch so coffee might do me some good.”

Ymir raises an eyebrow and Annie does a glance over of Eren, looking unimpressed. “You weren’t joking when you said you were drunk?” 

Predictably, his feathers are ruffled at the implication, but before he can puff up and bite out a retort, Armin steps in, smiling a little apologetically. “We got a little carried away today with the bottomless mimosas. Usually, Eren’s partner helps me keep an eye on these two, but she had work.”

Behind him, Eren scoffs, muttering to himself, “yeah, right. If she were here, she would’ve let Hissy have that 5th drink, and then we really would’ve had a problem on our hands.”

Ymir’s eyes glint with both interest and amusement, and it looks like she’s about to ask for him to elaborate on that a little more, but Historia just shakes her head, saying, “no, no, no - you don’t get access to embarrassing knowledge about me yet, especially from my friends. We need to go on at least 4 dates and have 1 soulmate game night with all of us there before you guys get to bond over teasing me.”

“Game night?” Annie deadpans, looking vaguely disgusted by the idea, while Ymir gulps and whispers, “dates?”

But Historia pays neither any attention. “Anyways, let’s get going!” She turns back to Eren and Armin, tapping the former affectionately on the arm and leaning up to kiss the latter's cheek. “Thanks for your help, guys! I’ll text you all later!” 

And then she’s looking up expectantly at Ymir, waiting patiently for her to process the events and her next move. It only takes a few moments before she’s jerking and nodding, saying a brief goodbye to her companion and holding out her elbow. They both look at it, genuinely surprised by the action, but before Ymir can take it back, Historia grabs it happily, enjoying the warmth and the definition there. 

Behind them, Annie slaps her hand to her head, as if embarrassed by her soulmate, while Armin tries valiantly to stop Eren from making those teasing kissing noises. Historia pays little attention to it, though. She’s too busy walking on air to focus on anything other than the fact that her soulmate was finally on her arm. 

Oh, what a lucky day!

Oh, what a shitty fucking day.

It’s been approximately 2 months and 8 days since Ymir’s massive fuck-up,  30 days since Annie had a run in with her mysterious, sexy firelady soulmate, and 20 days since she met her own fantastical, sexy school teacer soulmate - and sexy school teacher aside, Ymir was straight up not having a good time. 

Needless to say, after finding out that Annie had actually met her soulmate, like actually met her (and without Ymir’s help), she went a little mad. She was near rabid. She could smell blood in the water, and she was ready to seal the deal. But Annie put her foot down immediately. They were to absolutely not purposefully set off fire alarms in the hopes that the sexy firelady came to the rescue - absolutely not. And they were also absolutely not allowed to drive past the several fire stations in the city and harass the poor woman at her work, either. 

It was supposed to be natural, organic, and not at all from some elaborate plan Ymir cooked up to find the woman. Apparently, Annie didn’t want to make a big deal of it and seek out the woman, especially not if the only way to find her was through her job. They were in the same city. They had to run into her eventually. 

Yeah, fucking right.

Trost was pretty huge, and if after the approximate month Ackerman had supposedly spent in the city they still hadn’t found each other, then there was something a little sus going on. 

Annie supposed that the buff firelady (and yes, Annie had briefly mentioned something about seeing Ackerman’s abs through her shirt, which for her was basically a rambling confession) didn’t have her platonic soulmate with her in the city. That would mean even more waiting - and more reliance on Ymir’s end, if Ymir wasn’t suffering enough. 

So Ymir pushed her luck. She’d looked up the closest fire station to that park and took a detour one day after work when Annie was too sleepy to pay attention to the route they were taking. As they drove past, and no light burst from Annie’s chest, she couldn’t help the visible sag of her shoulders in disappointment. Unfortunately, Annie noticed then and blew a gasket. Ymir was banned from driving them for the next month, which was more a punishment for Annie than anything else, but she knew that that meant that Annie was serious about this. 

Cue Ymir’s reappearing rotten mood.

On the other end of things, however, Ymir also seems to find herself in a perpetual state of disbelief. For the past 3 weeks, it’s been like living with a balloon inflating in your chest. The feeling is so strange, so absolutely fucking weird that she was initially alarmed. Once she learned that the tight and fluttering feeling was associated with anything in relation to her newly acquainted soulmate, the disbelief came to her. 

How she managed to get matched with a woman like Historia absolutely boggled her mind. She was a school teacher for crying out loud! A fucking saint with a face to match. To be paired with someone who looked like she spent her high school years dealing drugs was cruel, at least to Historia.

But fuck it. If Ymir was lucky enough for a catch like her, then she wouldn’t waste her opportunity. If Historia was hers, then she was gonna do her best to keep her. 

The day they met was a little bit of a mess. To see this absolute goddess of a woman, raised on a pedestal for all to view in the shining rays of the mid-morning sun, was rapture. She felt like she was having a meeting with the divine. It was the closest thing to holy she’s ever felt -

And then she heard her talk. 

The woman in front of her was petulant and bratty in her indignance towards her companion - and ah, that was more like it. She liked the bit of fire in that tiny woman, liked that she wasn’t afraid to bite back.

Historia was like a dream that Ymir had somehow stumbled onto. She looked genuinely interested in whatever bullshit Ymir had to say, and she laughed at every shitty joke Ymir spewed out to try and impress her. Every time her phone lit up with a text, her heart would give a start, as if she somehow forgot that there was now another living person on the planet besides Annie that gave a shit about her. (And they texted often, so imagine the state of Ymir’s poor heart.) 

The woman texted with kaomojis unironically for Christ’s sake, and she didn’t have even the slightest urge to bully her. 

It was absolutely flabbergasting. 

After the day at the coffee shop, they’d texted near constantly. Historia liked to ramble, and Ymir liked to complain, and it made for interesting after-work conversations that spilled into the late night. Ymir knew that Annie found all of this entirely too amusing (and a bit sickening), but seemingly, she was allowing her a blessed grace period before unleashing a torrent of taunts and teasing as a sort of congratulations present. Ymir didn’t know how long it would last, but she would take it. 

They went on their second date (because Historia had insisted that the coffee shop was a date, and Ymir didn’t have heart or the urge to refute that) later that first week. It was as awkward as any date, except Ymir actually had to fucking try - and it went as terrible as you could probably imagine. There was a lot of stuttering and flushing and generally making a fool of herself.

But, at the end of the night, after she’d dropped Historia off at her apartment, she still got a kiss on the cheek for her efforts. 

Absolutely mind-boggling.

Then they’d had their third date, and Ymir had made it to her door. 

Historia had led her up to her apartment, fingers loosely intertwined and giggling like teenagers. Ymir, the fucking casanova that she was, twirled Historia around, enjoying the way her skirt floated around her and the delighted giggle that escaped her sweet lips. When they reached the door, Historia turned and leaned against it before shyly staring up into Ymir’s eyes. Ymir reacted to that almost instinctively, using her hand to prop herself above Historia’s form so that their faces were only so far apart. 

Historia broke the silence first. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for taking me out, Ymir,” she said, biting her lip to hide her burgeoning smile.

Ymir’s eyes were instantly drawn to the action, stuck on those pearly whites that stood stark against a glossy pink. A lascivious smirk grew on her own face as she leant down just a little closer. “Well, who says it’s gotta end? It is the 3rd date, y’know,” Ymir husked, feeling just a little lightheaded at the way Historia’s eyes grew hooded.

“Wellllll,” she drew out, reaching out to tug at the end of Ymir’s shirt. “I guess you could come in for a little while,” she murmured playfully, and Ymir swore she could feel her heart stop. The way they were magnetized, swaying towards each other so that each breath was closer than the last - it gave her enough courage to finally take the plunge. 

Ymir ducked down and closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together gently. She was still nervous, still hopped up on adrenaline and hormones and those stupid butterflies, so her lips trembled just the slightest bit against Historia’s, but that only made Historia reach up onto her tippy-toes, grasping onto her face and the back of her neck and holding tight - as if Ymir was about to fall apart and it was only Historia’s hands against her that held her together. 

It was perfect. It was fucking everything. And Ymir felt like she could never have enough.

And then - Historia was pulling away, looking all sorts of mischievous and not at all the dazed mess she knew she probably looked like. 

“On second thought - maybe another night. 3rd date hookups are a little cliché, aren’t they?” Historia suggested a little too innocently. 

And Ymir, bless her stupid fucking heart, nodded along, still a little disoriented. “Yeah, makes sense,” she mumbled, before leaning back down to capture her lips once again. 

Historia, the saint, allowed her this. Their lips lingered for several moments, and when Ymir went to deepen it, ready to wrap her arms around Historia’s waist and press her against the door, the kiss ended. Mindlessly, she went to follow the other woman’s lips, but a finger stopped her. 

“Be good,” she tried to sound stern, but even Ymir could see that she was amused and probably just as horny as she was.

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be if it means that I get through that door tonight,” Ymir husked lowly, following the path of smooth, pale skin below her neck with her eyes. Her tongue wet her lips unconsciously, and Historia let out an audible gulp, staring up at Ymir with big eyes. 

Ladies and Gentlemen - we got her , Ymir thought smugly to herself as a flush began to spread its way down Historia’s chest. She followed it with her eyes and swallowed, feeling herself grow excited with anticipation. Historia really was so lovely, and the fact that she got to have her, got to feel her against her lips, her skin, was almost enough to make her want to jump her right then and there in that hallway. 

She settled for a kiss, instead. 

But at the last moment, Historia turned her head, and Ymir’s mouth hit her cheek. Pulling back just a little, Historia looked into her eyes intently. “Not tonight, Ymir,” she said softly, voice still lilted in an almost playful way. She felt her breath against her skin, and she had to hold in a groan. “Maybe next time.”

And then their lips touched once more for only a few seconds before Historia was bidding her goodnight, leaving her to sit outside her door and blink dumbly at the place that her soulmate once stood. 

What. A. Fucking. Tease.

“Next time,” as Historia had suggested, brings us to the present day - date number 4 and 30 days since Annie had first seen her soulmate. 

Ymir had actually made it through Historia’s door this time, as was the plan of the night, but she still took it as a victory nonetheless. 

The apartment is neat, which isn’t that much of a surprise - and even less of a surprise is the fact that it’s actually decorated, unlike Ymir and Annie’s place. There are potted plants and picture frames and pretty little inspiring words that she wouldn’t be caught dead putting on her wall, but since it’s her tiny little soulmate, it’s actually a little endearing (though she won’t ever admit that out loud). It still screams of newness and a certain fragility that has Ymir not wanting to touch anything.

Historia is a gracious hostess, however, and immediately urges her to sit, grabbing them a few bottles of beer from the fridge for them to sip on. 

“You like beer?” Ymir questions a little skeptically, eyeing her from the side as the other woman pops open her bottle and takes a sip. 

This has Historia immediately rolling her eyes in response, looking a little pouty at the implication. “Probably a little too much,” she divulges moodily. 

Putting her hands up, Ymir smirks a little. “Sorry, princess, I just thought you were a fruity kinda gal. Those mimosas were a pretty defining moment for you,” she teases, and this time, Historia pouts for real.

“Just you wait until you and Annie get invited to Sunday breakfasts with us. You won’t be able to handle the sauce, either.”

A pleased thrill runs down her spine. That sounded nice. Being wanted and included in things was nice. 

But Ymir keeps it cool and shakes her head playfully, rubbing Historia’s hair. “Whatever you say, shorty.”

The next half hour is spent watching a mindless show on netflix. It was supposed to be a movie night date for them, one where they could just relax and exist in the same area without the risk of Ymir shoving her foot in her mouth while trying to come up with something impressive to say to her. 

Historia’s roommate would be coming home from work sometime soon, which meant she was supposed to be the on-her-best-behavior-Ymir that she only adorned around Annie’s dad (and that was only for Annie’s sake). Historia spoke about her roommate like she hung the stars in the sky, which probably would’ve made her jealous if it weren’t for the fact that she was slowly learning that Historia talked about everyone she loved like that (a part of her twisted on the inside thinking of what it might be that Historia said about her - what she would say about her? would she earn enough of her love to get her to look like that for her too?) She knew she was unfriendly, but she didn’t want the woman to immediately hate her. A good first impression could make coming to Historia’s apartment often a breeze. 

By now, she’s worked up the courage to lay her arm across the top of the couch. Historia had shuffled almost imperceptibly towards her, and slowly, they’ve been inching closer and closer together. Ymir can just feel the heat of Historia’s body against her skin, and she aches to pull her in completely, to have them pressed fully against one another. 

In a burst of courage, she drops her hand down, trying not to watch from the corner of her eye as it falls and hangs on the other side of Historia’s shoulder. Historia freezes, takes a peek at the hand, and then shifts completely, tucking herself into Ymir’s side. Ymir’s heart just about bursts, but she just wraps her up in her arm and drops her head down onto Historia’s.

“Took you long enough,” she sighs out in satisfaction.

Ymir scoffs. “This isn’t a one-man show, y’know. We’re gonna be crawling at a snail’s pace if you keep sittin’ on the bench and watchin’ me do the work.”

This only earns a giggle. “I don’t know, Ymir - you were pretty eager last week. We almost blew past the gates with how badly you wanted your hand down my pants.”

Ymir can’t help the blush that clings to her cheeks, but she raises her head and sneers to make up for it. “And everything thinks you’re an innocent little goddess. Tch - yeah right,” she grumbles to herself, trying valiantly to keep the image of just that out of her mind. She still has the whole night to get through, and she can’t blow it just because she can’t keep her head out of the gutter. 

Historia giggles again and tugs on her arm to bring her head back down, which she does so a little grumpily. 

The next few minutes pass by, and Ymir, with her fingers unconsciously tracing light circles into Historia’s arm, asks suddenly, “when’ s your roommate supposed to get here anyways?”

Historia narrows her eyes and glances up suspiciously at her soulmate. “Are you thinking dirty thoughts, Ymir?”

Ymir actually splutters in indignation. “What the hell! No!” But also yes (Historia didn’t need to know about that, though). Her intentions were only half-pure - honest, but the tiny little woman is still looking at her skeptically, as if she doesn’t believe her, and that only embarrasses her more. “What does your roommate even do? It’s like 6:30,” she grouses moodily, looking around for a clock and finding it on the side table next to her. There are a few picture frames around it, and she trails her eyes over them, trying to distract herself so the indignant flush will die down from her cheeks. 

A flash of red catches her attention, and both of her eyes zero in almost unconsciously.

“Oh, Mikasa’s a firefighter. Her hours are absolutely insane, but I think that she actually gets off right about now!” Historia informs her dutifully, oblivious to the complete and utter chaos that’s raging in Ymir’s head only inches away from her. 

It’s not until Historia peeks over to see what Ymir’s staring so intensely at that she lurches upwards, grabbing the picture in her hands and startling Historia so badly that she gasps aloud. She barely acknowledges it, though. All she can stare at is the picture of the woman.

“Ymir?” Historia asks a little nervously, peering over. “Is something wrong?”

But still, she can’t answer. Her heart is racing, her hands are trembling, and she’s damn-near going to cry. Ho-ly fuck. This cannot be real. She lets out a hysterical laugh, clutching the picture like it’s some holy grail, and Historia has grown near frantic beside her, trying not to show her apprehension as she shuffles around on the couch. When Ymir turns to look at her, a smile stretched so wildly and large across her face, Historia only gulps in response, bambi eyes wide and alarmed.

“Historia,” Ymir starts, so much excited energy buzzing along her skin that she’s near vibrating. 

“Y-yes?” Historia responds nervously.

Ymir’s smile only grows larger. “I know who your roommate’s soulmate is!” This has Historia’s head cocking to the side, apprehension turning to confusion, and Ymir continues before she can ask. “Annie! My Annie is bonded to this," she emphasizes by thrusting the picture up between them, "lady! Her name is like Packerman, or somethin, but I know she's the one!'” She rushes out excitedly, buzzing in silence as the dots begin to connect in Historia’s head.

Historia blinks, slowly perking up. “How do you know, though?”

“Because we saw her! She left before we could catch her, but I know that red scarf!”

With little to no effort, Historia manages to transcend to her level of excitement, rising up to her knees and grabbing onto Ymir’s hand tightly. “You’re sure? Like super, really sure?” She asks, voice a higher pitch than it usually is, and Ymir nods a little frantically, raising her hand up in a scout’s salute (which was fucking ridiculous, by the way, because she’s pretty sure she’s never even met a scout before that wasn’t hounding her for cookie sales in the grocery parking lot). 

“Oh my God!” Historia cries out, and Ymir is still nodding, smile stretched so wide that her cheeks are beginning to ache, but it doesn’t matter because now Historia’s smiling too, looking so ecstatic that she has to physically hold onto Ymir so that she doesn’t float away. “Oh my God!” She repeats, needlessly, but Ymir understands, because she’s still nodding.

“I’m gonna call Annie,” she informs her.

“And I’m gonna call Mikasa!” Historia says, and then they’re both twisting around, grabbing their phones.

Ymir quickly inputs Annie’s number and calls, fidgeting impatiently until Annie picks up on the 3rd ring. “What’s up,” she asks flatly, sounding distracted.

“Annie!” She whisper-shouts at just the same time that Historia cries out, “Mikasa!” “What are you doing right now!?”

“I don’t know, washing dishes,” Annie grunts, “why the hell are you yelling in my ear?”

The satisfaction and relief she feels is overwhelming, and she can barely hold it all in when she practically shouts, “you need to come to Historia’s apartment ASAP!! Like ASAP ASAP,” but then she pauses, rethinking that statement. “But make yourself look good. Throw on some perfume and shit and wear your best hoodie or somethin’. I don’t know, man - POINT IS, get your ass over here!”

There’s a pause, and Ymir can hear Historia shuffling around in the kitchen, obviously trying to hold in her own yells and succeeding only slightly more than Ymir.

“Are you doing drugs, Ymir? Has Historia introduced you to drugs?” Annie asks, sounding actually bewildered over the phone.

“What? No!” Ymir retorts, equally bewildered by the question. “You just really need to get here as fast as you can!”

“Why the fuck would I do that? Do you want me to cockblock your date or something? You swore up and down that you were at least getting to second base tonight,” she dutifully reminds her.

Ymir scowls immediately. Right. She forgot about that. She was supposed to be putting the moves on Historia tonight - but now they were both distracted.

“Listen, you little shit - get fucking dressed in something half-fucking decent because you’re meeting Mikasa tonight - and before you ask who Mikasa is, it’s your sexy fire fighting soulmate who just so happens to be the soulmate of Historia’s soulmate’s soulmate! There’s a picture of her here and everything! I turned my head and BAM! There’s the fit as fuck asian lady I saw running away from me that day! Historia’s bringing her ass here, so you need to get here too!”

Silence. 

Complete silence. 

Ymir is breathing heavily over the phone, staring harshly at the picture still clutched in her hand while she gives Annie a few moments to recalibrate. The tension grows between them the longer the silence continues. Then, the line goes dead. 

Ymir blinks and looks at her phone in shock. She immediately redials, frowning when it goes straight to voicemail. She gets the same response trying it again, and again, and again, until she’s jabbing at the phone angrily with her finger, all but snarling at it.

Then she gets a text.

Annie bananie >:( (6:40): stop spamming me, you freak

Bitch (6:40): then answer me wtf

Annie bananie >:( (6:42): i’m busy

Bitch (6:42): FUCK THE DISHES!!!

Bitch (6:42): GET UR WHITE ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW

Bitch (6:43): ANNIE

Bitch (6:43): ANNIE

Bitch (6:43): ANNIE

Bitch (6:43): ANSWER ME

Bitch (6:43): ANNIE

Bitch (6:44): ANNI-

Annie bananie >:( (6:44): HOLY FUCK SHUT UP

Annie bananie >:( (6:44): i’m putting pants on rn

Bitch (6:44): …

Bitch (6:44): u were doing the dishes w/out pants?

Bitch (6:45): GAAAAYYYYY

Annie bananie >:( (6:46) are you fucking kidding me rn?

Annie bananie >:( (6:46): just give me the fucking address so i can block you already.

True to word, as soon as Annie receives the address and the apartment number, Ymir’s text messages stop going through. That does little to deter Ymir from sending a vicious onslaught of blue bubbles to her phone, however. 

Her irritated scowl must attract her companion’s concern because after the 3rd giant block of text, Historia’s appearing at her side, peering over her arm to see what’s made her face contort so fiercely. “Is something the matter?” She asks, eyes wide and worried as she takes a glance at whatever Ymir’s been typing.

“The bitch blocked me,” Ymir mutters distractedly, finalizing her last insult before she turns to acknowledge her cute little soulmate.

Historia gasps. “Oh no! Are you two fighting?”

Ymir snorts and shakes her head, amused by the implication. Annie and her rarely fought - like actually, actually fought. They snapped at each other and got on each other’s nerves sometimes, but the thought of them getting into it bad enough that Ymir would constitute it as a “fight” was kind of ridiculous. The only time they were ever really vicious with each other was when it was about Annie’s shitty old man, but that guy’s been long gone for a while now.

Their relationship was just different. Where Historia and Armin were practically born of the same womb, spouting flowery declarations of affection and support, Annie and Ymir were a little tactful. They l-worded each other, would probably die for each other, but Ymir wouldn’t be caught dead saying that aloud. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even wear a matching friendship bracelet with her. This suited them just fine.

Historia wouldn't know anything of this, though. It was still really early in their relationship, and you couldn't really blame a girl for wanting to keep her soulmate to herself, just for a little while. Sure, she's talked about her plenty, but talking about Annie and talking to her were two completely different beasts. Her tiny little soulmate would have to grow to love Annie's abruptness and her freaky ability to stonewall her emotions in .2 seconds like Ymir had.

It was pretty suspicious though that they'd all somehow ended up matched together in a perfect group of 6. It was like fate took the first 6 people it saw, grouped them together, and threw them into the universe with only the intention of convenience in mind. Not that Ymir was complaining or anything. Historia was off-the-charts gorgeous. But that also meant that they were stuck together in a group. This just meant that soulmate game night was becoming more and more unavoidable (not that Ymir thinks that she would’ve been able to say no to Historia’s pleading face. That woman weaponizes those eyes of hers with deadly precision.). 

“Nah,” Ymir reassures her, rolling her eyes as she puts her phone away. “She’s just freaking out and being dramatic. If she wants to come into this unprepared, then I’ll let her. What about you, though? Your scary lookin’ roommate coming?” 

At this, Historia makes a face, shuffling a little in place and wringing her hands nervously. She looks almost...apologetic?

And suddenly, Ymir has a bad feeling.

“Uh - well, you see...”

“Eren, please stop making a scene,” Mikasa pleads, sighing once again as she tugs on her soulmate’s collar to pull him back into his seat from where he’s screaming out the car window.

“HORSE-DRAWN CARRIAGES ARE ABUSE! END THE EXPLOITATION NOW!” He bellows furiously, using both his hands to press down on the rising window. “‘KASA STOP ROLLING UP THE WINDOW! I NEED TO TELL THEM THAT HORSES DESERVE TO LIVE FREELY! THIS IS WRONG!”

At the green light, Mikasa guns it, and Eren jerks back into his seat. “Screaming at them won’t accomplish anything. We can sign petitions when we get home, but endangering yourself to yell across the park isn’t smart,” she informs him dryly, glad when she’s able to seal the window without closing it in on her brother’s head.

Eren shakes his head adamantly. “We need to take action now, though! We can’t let those animals go on like that!”

Mikasa glances at him from the corner of her eye, fixing him with a look when she finds the beginning of something familiar overtake his face. “We are not stealing those horses, Eren. Or setting them free,” she adds when he looks like he’s about to interject. “We’ll figure it out when we get back, but there’s nothing we can do right now. Armin has pizza waiting for us, and Historia needs to tell me something.”

The lines of Eren’s face are firm with resolve, but he acquiesces at the mention of “Armin” and “pizza,” much to her relief. She really was so fond and supportive of his passion, but his penchant for trouble has given them a close call too many. She really didn’t want to get arrested today (no matter how much she agreed with her soulmate).

“Isn’t H on a date?” He grumbles, staring out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. “I thought you were staying with us tonight.” He shoots a questioning glance towards her, but she merely shrugs.

“I couldn’t hear her well when she was talking to me because I was picking you up at the time. I think her soulmate is still there, though.” 

Eren huffs. “Weird.”

Mikasa nods in agreement. She’s heard plenty about this Ymir in the past 3 weeks, so much so that she’s pretty sure she knows her almost as well as Historia does. She’s been eager for them to all get together and to get along, and Mikasa’s honestly surprised that the tiny girl hasn’t jumped the gun so far and shoved them in a room together and hoped for the best. But she’s taking her time with this, surprisingly - or as much as she can. 

Historia had basically been walking on sunshine from the moment Mikasa got home from work the day she found Ymir. It was almost nauseatingly sweet how excited and happy she was. She really hadn’t been kidding when she said that finding her soulmate was her dream in life, and Mikasa’s actually impressed by the amount of restraint she’s shown. U-haul lesbians were no joke, especially in a world of soulmates. 

But that begs the question about what Historia could possibly want Mikasa there for. Sure, she hasn’t met the woman yet (she’ll admit that she’s actually disappointed that she wasn’t there for that fateful sunday brunch - seeing the chaos that comes with the soulmate light is always a bit amusing), but there isn’t a reason for her to actually sit down and chat with her, especially before Armin. 

Possibly, it could be because she desired to forge a good relationship with her for potential future visits, but that would still be rather out of character for Historia to agree to because, still, the real person that Ymir should curry favor with is, without a doubt, Armin. Unsurprisingly, this isn’t a difficult task to accomplish because Armin loved everyone - saw the good in everyone (maybe naively, but what did Mikasa know - she was a pessimist). Historia trusted him and his judgement probably more than she trusted her own. He took care of her, supported her, loved her through the death of her mother and the proceeding shitstorm that was Rod Reiss. They were just as much siblings as Eren and Mikasa were.

If there was anyone that Historia would want Ymir to get to know first, it would be Armin - so what was going on at home?

“Historia! I got your text! I came as soon as I could,” Armin says, panting, as he throws open the door. Immediately, a small body launches across the room and into his arms. The two pizza boxes in his hand waiver and he stumbles, but he manages to catch himself on the door jam, yelping all the while. He looks down at the mop of gold in surprise and then back up when there’s a sudden weight lifted from his hands.

“I’ll take this off your hands,” Ymir says, already pulling a slice out of the top box as she heads towards the table and taking a bite out of it.

Armin blinks and then smiles brightly. “Thanks,” he replies, a little nervously, while Ymir just jerks her head in acknowledgement. He turns back to the girl in his arms. “Now, tell me what’s going on. The SOS was pretty vague, and I almost went 10 over the speed limit to get home.”

Ymir let's out a quiet snort at that, and both Armin and Historia turn to acknowledge her. Though her eyes widen when she realizes she’s been caught, it’s Historia who apologizes, narrowing her eyes and huffing at her soulmate. “Sorry about her. She was the bad kid in high school - probably smoked behind the bleachers and hit on substitute teachers. She probably thinks driving the speed limit is too straight-laced.”

At Ymir’s indignant squawks, Armin laughs, shaking his head. “It’s alright. That did sound kind of ridiculous out loud, but I really do try not to speed. Precious cargo and all that,” he explains, motioning a little awkwardly in front of him.

“Right,” Ymir coughs, grimacing and looking genuinely like she regretted ever making a sound. “I didn’t, by the way - hit on teachers, that is,” she mentions, sounding almost pained, as she’s still holding the half eaten slice still up by her mouth. 

Historia harrumphs, but Armin can tell that she’s still pleased by the information. 

Though it’s nice to interact with the other woman, as little as it’s been, he knows that there are more pressing matters. “Hissy,” he prompts, and she twitches, as if suddenly remembering something.

She jumps out of his embrace, grabbing his arms with a wide, if a bit panicked, smile. “Armin, we found Mikasa’s soulmate!”

Armin furrows his eyebrows, lips turning into a pensive frown. “You did? But how?” He asks, not disbelievingly but genuinely bewildered by how this could have occurred. Eren hasn’t been blowing up his phone with the news, and as far as he knows, Mikasa and Eren were together and on their way to their place for a movie night. But Historia wouldn’t say something like this without a reason. 

“It’s Ymir’s soulmate! They found Mikasa once but lost her!”

“Wait,” Armin pauses, trying to draw up the image of the woman in question. “Annie?”

“That would be me,” a voice sounds behind him from where the door is still ajar, and both Armin and Historia jump together. Armin turns on his heel to look at the new addition, smiling in greeting and making room to allow her to enter. The woman looks disgruntled, if a bit anxious, and he doesn’t exactly know everything that’s been going on, but he understands the look all the same.

“Sorry, we didn’t see you there. Come in, please!” Armin motions with his arm, allowing her to step through before closing the door behind her.

Ymir mutters around another bite of pizza, standing up and striding purposefully towards Annie. “Oh thank fuck you’re here ” she says, gripping the shorter woman by the shoulders and doing a glance over. Annie struggles a bit, curling her lip, but she ultimately allows Ymir to inspect her, looking like it physically pains her to sit still under such scrutiny. “You look fine, I guess - could’ve left your hair down and maybe got plastic surgery on your way - oof.”

There’s a mighty scowl on Annie’s face as she slaps the other woman in the stomach, and Historia lets out a gasp. Armin is trying to stay out of it, but he can’t help but grimace in sympathy. 

“Ymir! Don’t be rude to her!” She turns and does a once over for herself, and Armin has to resist the urge to tug on her arm to remind her that that’s rude too. “You look great! Don’t listen to her - she was wearing overalls when we first met - which were very handsome, by the way,” she stresses when Ymir makes a face. 

“Thanks,” Annie replies, looking away for the slightest second - long enough still for Armin to see the anxiousness in the purse of her lips. 

Feeling like he should interject to make the awkward tension in the room dissipate, he steps forward and rubs his neck, trying to look reassuring. “You don’t need to feel nervous, Annie. Mikasa is really…well, she - she - ”

“ - likes muscles - ” Historia interjects, as if sensing Armin's panicking, and nods encouragingly at the white long-sleeve shirt that's pulled taught against Annie's biceps.

“ - a-and hardwork!," Armin adds, nervously glancing at Historia. "And you obviously look like you, uh, well - ”

“ - do a lot of hard work to keep those muscles because - ”

“ - your definition is rather admirable!”

“And your face - ”

“ - Mikasa will love - ”

“Alright, Wonder Twins! That’s enough out of you two,” Ymir interrupts, looking almost disturbed by the display - which was totally fair. The people around them always liked to joke that they were separated at birth. They had that sort of telepathy that only twin soulmates usually shared, and it was usually off-putting to people that were seeing it for the first time.

Armin and Historia share a look - one that’s mostly a grimace but also a tad sheepish - before turning back to look at Annie. The other woman, to her credit, hasn’t changed her facial expression much in the last few moments. If anything, she looks slightly calmer than she did when she first walked through the door - which is saying something, because she already had the sort of face where every microexpression was important to notice. It was a lot like Mikasa in that regard, except that Annie’s was, well, for a lack of a better word, harsher - meaner. It didn’t necessarily mean that she was harsh herself (though Armin was beginning to think that there was some truth to her icy and unyielding countenance), but it was indicative of a mask. Armin truly thinks that Mikasa would appreciate that - the challenge, the mystery, and the subsequent revealing of what’s inside. It makes sense, he thinks. Two similar people (at least, at first glance) with just enough differences to make it interesting.

But still, he needs more information. He would take their word for it, would take Historia’s , but he wants to know it all before Mikasa actually arrives home. Just in case.

“It should be a little bit before they get here. Would it be alright if you gave me the full story?” Armin asks politely, glancing back and forth between Annie and Ymir.

The former shrugs, and the latter winces, but they acquiesce easily. Historia leads them to the table where the pizza is currently residing and slips a slice out for herself while Armin motions for them to start.

The two of them share a nervous glance before Ymir opens her mouth and begins.

By the end of it, Historia has rapidly begun to pale, half-eaten pizza slice forgotten on a napkin. “Oh no,” she says faintly, staring wide eyed at Ymir in disbelief.

That only seems to make the other two women more uneasy, who, too, have gone pale with her. “T-this is probably a bad time to mention, but, Annie - your light’s turned on,” and by the drawn expressions of dread etched onto their faces, it’s easy to guess what the general consensus of the room is. Armin himself hadn’t actually known the true cause to why Mikasa had adamantly declined one of the apartments. He’d just trusted her judgement. Now, though, he understands. And the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat means that he knows that he looks just as weary as the others. 

Slowly, time ticks by, and no one else has uttered a word. Annie has gone near ashen gray, which is only slightly better than her soulmate, who looks stricken with illness. Historia is trying to comfort her by holding her hand, but even she looks apprehensive for the coming minutes. 

Armin is all of a sudden thankful that the 6 of them will be there when Mikasa finds the two of them in her home. It means more people to stop her before she piledrivers Ymir out the window. Truly, if Mikasa catches sight of Ymir before Annie, Armin doesn’t know how she’ll actually react. And worse, since Eren is with her, he’ll follow her into battle with no questions asked. 

He shares a worried glance with Historia, eyes only widening when the beginnings of someone shouting is starting to make its way into the apartment. This seems to distract Annie just a little, who narrows her eyes. “What the hell is that sound?”

And with the way Ymir’s eyes are basically closed from proximity to Annie, it can only mean one thing.

“They’re here.”

“Eren! Stop yanking on me right now!” Mikasa hisses, using all her strength to sit back on her heels to stop the madness - but even that isn’t enough to stop the man. A determined Eren is a scary thing. An eager, determined, and stubborn Eren is even worse. 

She doesn’t even know how she got into this situation. All she knows is that one moment, she’s sitting in her car and rummaging through her bag, and the next she’s being whisked out of her seat by her rabid soulmate, eyes wide and crazed like a predator who’s searching for the meal that will save him from starvation. Distantly, it reminds her of something - something she desperately has tried to bury in the dark recesses of her mind. That thought floats away from her, however, when she’s able to actually get a word out of him.

“WE'RE GOING TO SAVE YOU FROM A LIFE OF SPINSTERHOOD, I PROMISE, MIKASA!” He declares aloud as they pass through the lobby, earning the curious and bewildered stares of any passerbys.

“I’m only 25!” Mikasa hisses back, fighting the burn of embarrassment as the manager raises an eyebrow at them.  

“25 WITHOUT A WIFE! HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME AN UNCLE WITHOUT A WIFE!?”

Mikasa nearly chokes on her own disbelief. “EREN!” She manages to exclaim, dumbfounded enough by the sudden expectation that it allows him to pull her to the first row of apartments in their complex. He pushes her ahead of him, looking smug and pleased, and she knows she walked right into that trap. 

“JUST KIDDING! But we’re not leaving until we check each floor,” he says, very seriously, and even she is helpless to the way he shoves her down the hall like a battering ram, eyes opened as wide as they can be.

Quickly, he determines that the first floor is not bright enough, and she follows robotically as they climb the stairs to the second floor, process repeated until they hit the 4th. That’s when the brightness becomes almost unbearable and Eren gets the brilliant idea of going door to door for a more accurate read.

It’s as mortifying as you can believe. Only 3 out of the 8 doors on the floor answer, and their reactions range from mild annoyance to distant amusement. Mikasa has to hand it to her soulmate, though - he’s rather thorough about his duty. When the old lady from 406 reveals that her granddaughter is visiting from out of town, he insists that she’s awoken from her nap so that he can see if she’s her match. Even when the old lady insists that she’s already found both of her soulmates, Eren remains unconvinced and almost insists.

Mikasa has to pull him by the ear to get him to let the poor woman go.

The only reason she’s going along with and staying silent during his crazed quest is because of a deal they made when they were children. She promised him that she’d let him do whatever means necessary when the time came if it meant that she could be with her soulmate. In retrospect, that was probably not one of her brightest moments, but Eren had been dedicated and protective and determined, and as long he kept his side of the deal when the time came for him, then it was fine, right? 

Wrong. 

Young Mikasa had been so wrong.

As much as she wants to meet her soulmate (and she really wants to) - there was a line, and Eren had stomped over it 2 doors ago.

By the time they make it to their floor, tears were beginning to stream from Eren’s eyes from the brightness and the sheer amount of time he’s held them open, and Mikasa was nearing her last nerve. Her jaw was clenched, signaling her impatience, but Eren continued to knock at each door with gusto.

Admittedly, she was...very nervous. Though she hadn't voiced her agreement aloud when Historia spoke about how important of a day meeting your soulmate was, she believed the same thing. She was patient - more patient than Eren was about it, at least - but that didn't mean that she wasn't plagued by the hope of finding her soulmate. Now that the day was finally here, she felt tender - almost raw with how anxious she was. It didn't help that Eren was beginning to step on every one of her last nerves.

At apartment number 503, Mikasa’s blood pressure reaches a startling high, and she can no longer accept the sound of Eren yelling without visibly cringing and trying to inch away. All she wants to do is curl up in her bed and hide - not because she doesn’t want to meet them, but because she’s frazzled and surprised and not at all in control of the situation, and Mikasa really, really liked being in control. 

When the person to 504 opens the door, Mikasa knows she’s reached her breaking point. 

“HELLO, DOES ANYONE WITHOUT A ROMANTIC SOULMATE LIVE HERE?” Eren practically screams at the woman, causing Mikasa to blanch in surprise. This was the first time he’s shouted directly at someone, which means he must be growing desperate. 

The woman, similarly, shies away, looking startled. “U-uh - no, sorry!” She squeaks out, and Mikasa goes red, a look of horror, mortification, and irritation morphed confusingly on her face.

It’s only when Eren picks up on the hesitation in the woman's voice that her tolerance snaps. “ARE YOU SURE? YOU DON’T SOUND SURE!? I NEED YOU TO BE SURE!”

The woman whimpers in distress, and Mikasa, knowing that she needs to get him the hell out of there before he started traumatizing the neighbors one by one, makes a decision. She moves quickly, whirling the man around, bending at the knees, and wrapping her arms securely around him before lifting him up and over her shoulder. Both him and the woman make a startled noise, his much louder than hers.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, ma’am,” she says stiffly, at the same time Eren begins to screech, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, MIKASA! I KNOW THAT WOMAN WAS HIDING SOMEONE IN HERE! WE NEED TO GO BACK INSIDE AND FIND THEM!!”

Needless to say, the door slams promptly, and Eren continues to thrash on her shoulder. Admittedly, the man is heavy, especially with the way he’s moving around, but her grip is solid and her determination to get the fuck out of there was something even he couldn’t break. 

“MIKASA! MIKASA STOP! YOU’RE PASSING DOORS! MIKASA!”

But Mikasa trudges on, gritting her teeth as they reach her own apartment. She has to lean Eren’s butt against the door to retrieve her keys from her pocket, and in that time, Eren takes to shoving at her shoulder, trying to slide his way down her front to escape. She simply presses against him harder, trapping him so that he lets out a yelp of indignance.

“MIKASA! MIKASA! ENOUGH!” He continues to cry out, all the while she curses when trying to get her keys into the door.

Thankfully, the door opens on it’s own, and Eren’s caught off guard enough that Mikasa can successfully carry him into the apartment. 

“Eren - what the - ” Armin starts, while somewhere in the corner of the room, she can hear Historia’s gasp of alarm. 

“ARMIN! ARMIN! You have to make her let me down! Her soulmate is here, I can just feel it, but she won’t let me find her! She made a promise! You made a promise, Mikasa! MIKASA!” Eren yells, struggling against her, as she fights her way to the living room.

“Eren, I swear to GOD!” Mikasa hisses, heaving him towards the couch. Beside her, Armin is trying to keep her from running into any miscellaneous furniture while also frantically attempting to calm Eren down. When she reaches the armchair, she all but throws him onto the cushion.

Immediately, and predictably, he surges upwards to try to escape, but she quickly grabs a pillow and shoves it into his face, pressing him back towards the seat. There are muffled exclamations through the pillow, but she puts her weight against him to keep him from getting up. 

“Eren, calm down!” She commands firmly, willing him to take a moment to collect himself. “You’re frightening the neighbors, and I don’t want to deal with the landlord. Please, relax yourself!” 

Armin frets from beside them, torn between helping his husband and helping Mikasa contain his husband. Ultimately, he chooses the latter, because apparently, even he knows that Eren’s become crazed by his sense of duty.

“Eren,” he soothes, reaching out to hold him by the shoulder and run a hand through his long hair, “take a breath, love.”

“But Armin!” He whines, sounding all sorts of betrayed through the pillow, though he has gone decisively limp in her grasp. He must know that he's outnumbered here. She lets out a sigh of relief.

Eren takes advantage of the slight release of tension from Mikasa’s arms and rips the pillow from her grasp - only to promptly release a noise much akin to a shriek and throw the pillow back over his eyes. “FUCK, TOO BRIGHT!” He bellows, and Armin and Mikasa glance at each other, huffing in amusement.

For now, it seems like he’s contained - both by the power of the brightness and Armin’s influence. Mikasa relaxes completely and leans off of him, running a hand through her hair tiredly. 

Her soulmate really was a piece of work. But at least he was determined. She couldn’t ask for something better than that, she supposes. 

She just needs a few minutes for them to calm down. Eren would get them nowhere if he continued to scream at the other neighbors, and she would be useless when the time came if she couldn’t gather herself. She’s been told that she can be robotic at the best of times, but she doesn’t want to completely stonewall the person. 

A muffled string of words sounds behind the cushion before she can enter into a stream of thought. Armin pulls the pillow a little forward so Eren’s mouth is no longer covered. “‘Kasa - we need to pull the fire alarm! That puts everyone in one spot!” He enthusiastically suggests, making to stand up again, only to be pushed back down by Armin’s hand.

Mikasa fixes him with a blank stare, one she’s sure he can feel even through the object obstructing his vision. She’s about to remind him of her profession and why exactly that that was such a horrible idea when - 

“Shit - that’s not a half bad idea. Wish we’d thought of that one before,” comes a grumble somewhere behind her, quiet enough so that it seems like it wasn’t meant to be said to anyone in particular. But everyone in the room hears it regardless. 

Immediately, both Armin and Mikasa freeze. She’d forgotten that Historia was on a date - she’d barely felt their presence at all. Dealing with Eren was usually all-encompassing, and she’s sure she probably wouldn’t have even noticed Armin at all if it weren’t for the fact that Eren had been screaming his name when they walked through the door. 

Not the best first impression for Historia’s soulmate, but she’d have to get used to their oddities sometime. 

Shrugging to herself, Mikasa turns to acknowledge the voice. Imperceptibly, her blondes’ react to the movement - Armin seizing in place and Historia twitching towards the woman sat beside her - the woman who just so happens to have her hand clamped over her eyes.

Mikasa’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Are you - ”

“Who the hell was that? Who’s in our apartment right now?” Eren interjects, looking wildly around, pillow still pressed against his face.

Mikasa sighs in fond exasperation. “It’s just - ” she pauses mid-turn, interrupted again,  when a flash of blonde catches her eye. 

It’s not the blonde she’s accustomed to - not the long, wavy fairness of Historia’s hair, nor the shade of flaxen that falls into Armin’s eyes. It’s pale - the type of pale that reminds her of the light from the midmorning sun that shines through her window. Golden, but just so.

It’s pretty, Mikasa decides, but unfamiliar. Furrowing her eyebrows, she turns her gaze towards this stranger and promptly does a double-take. 

“Miss Leonhart?” She says before she can stop herself.

The woman’s eyebrows raise just the slightest bit. “You remember my name?”

Unnaturally, she feels the tips of her ears burn a little in embarrassment. 

“You were quite memorable,” Mikasa offers, stating it like a fact, though to her, it is one. 

Growing up, there were plenty of references to firefighters rescuing cute little cats from trees, especially for elderly women. After going through the academy, she was a little disappointed to learn that they actually didn’t offer those services. It'd only been by luck that her lieutenant had walked by the dispatchers office during the non-emergency call for Bastard. It would be fun, he'd said. Something light and easy, he'd said.

His tune quickly changed when he saw the beast that resided in the trees above them.

Mikasa still thought he was cute, though - even if her lieutenant was convinced he'd come into contact with an agent of the devil. The scars were definitely a part of his charm.

It also helped that his owner was ridiculously hot. What she’d do to have that glare turned onto her, Mikasa shudders, remembering how often she’d dreamed of crystal blue eyes in the previous weeks. It was an altogether strange reaction for an encounter that lasted so little time, but more than once, she felt a pang of disappointment that they didn’t get to speak more. 

Seeing her here, sitting at her kitchen table, was more than enough to put her off balance - well, more than she already was.

The woman must feel the same because the odd paleness of her face suddenly flushes with red -a blushing response, Mikasa realizes. She must’ve complimented her unknowingly. She smiles slightly at the realization. 

“Who the fuck is Miss Leonhart? Is it one of Historia’s teacher friends?” Eren asks, breaking the weird tension that’s suddenly settled into the room. He’s still hidden, still a little amped up, but Mikasa is glad that he’s no longer shouting. For some reason, she doesn’t want him to offend the stranger any more than he probably already has.

“I helped rescue her cat from a tree,” she supplies, though her eyes trail across Ymir and subsequently Historia questioningly as well. 

Historia perks up at the attention, and shuffles so that it’s like she’s trying to conceal Ymir’s presence. Mikasa’s eyes narrow even further at the action, and almost simultaneously, both Armin and Historia gulp. 

“That’s kinda weird. Why is she in your apartment? Also, why do you all feel so weird? What’s going on?” Eren voices the thoughts that’s running through her head, sounding bewildered. 

“It’s Annie! Remember, Eren - she’s Ymir’s soulmate!” Armin answers, and the waver in his voice is immediately suspicious, not that any of their previous behavior hadn’t been. 

This is interesting news. Miss Leonhart, or Annie, is her soulmate’s soulmate’s soulmate’s soulmate’s soulmate. The connection makes her feel oddly giddy. Maybe they could finally have a chance to talk.

That doesn’t explain, however, why Historia and Armin are acting jumpy, and why Ymir has her hand over her face. She can’t even see what she looks like, but she seems tall and willowy. 

“Oh, yeah! The shorty with a grumpy face! What’s she doing here, for? Is it game night or somethin’?”

“Eren, don’t be rude,” Mikasa immediately chides. At the same moment, Annie scowls fiercely, Ymir barks out a laugh, and Historia twitches once again. “Though I also would like to know what’s going on. Historia,” she motions towards her before crossing her arms over her chest, “please.”

In panic, it seems that Historia glances around her, looking for support. She turns to Ymir, who’s still covering her eyes, and then Armin who shrugs in his own panic, and then Annie, who’s suddenly returned to that unnatural pallor. Finally, she gulps and turns back to Mikasa and smiles, a little wobbly thing that reminds Mikasa that she’s still not recovered from the mess of nerves that followed her from the hallway. There’s a tenseness that settles in her shoulders, and she almost can’t help the way she shuffles anxiously in place.

Thankfully, Eren says something. He’s always been slightly more impatient than herself.

“Okay, you guys are freaking me out now. Historia, what the fu - ” Eren abruptly cuts himself off, and Mikasa whirls on him, only to find that he’s dropped the pillow and is making an odd face. His eyebrows are almost up to hairline, and his jaw is twitching from where it’s dropped. “No fucking way,” he says, the quietist thing he’s said all day, and immediately, warning sirens go off in Mikasa’s head. 

“What?” Mikasa urges, reaching out to grab onto his shoulder, when he turns to her. He turns back to look at Annie, and then back again, and then -

“NO FUCKING WAY!” He screams into the silence of the room, and collectively, everyone jumps at the announcement. “NO FUCKING WAY! MIKASA! THAT GRUMPY WOMAN IS YOUR SOULMATE!” He bellows, jumping up with a joyous laugh.

Immediately, Mikasa goes stiff. She’s petrified by the revelation. She’s pretty sure her eyebrows are frozen from where they’ve risen in surprise. She turns to glance at the woman, as if to ask, is this true? And the woman can only turn an even paler shade of white in response. 

Somewhere, in the back of her head, she’s ecstatic. She’s sure that if she had full control over her vocal cords at the moment, she’d let out a relieved laugh, or maybe a disbelieving one. Just something to show that she’s very happy with her match.

Annie really was so very beautiful. From the moment she laid eyes on her, she was intrigued by the firm lines of her face, the set of her jaw, the disinterest in her eyes. It was all so...mysterious - closed off. Mikasa had, strangely, wanted so badly to hear her talk. To hear her reveal something about herself. Perhaps that should’ve been telling in itself. 

“Oh,” Mikasa settles on saying, very quietly. She glances away from Annie’s guarded eyes for a moment to look at Ymir’s own covered ones and nods to herself. “That makes sense,” she offers.

“It does?” Annie perks up, just the slightest bit.

“Of course,” Mikasa affirms, smiling slightly. “Your cat was wonderful, but I liked you an awful lot for only having known you for 15 minutes - and I don’t usually care for other people much.”

This time, it’s Annie’s turn to utter out an, “oh.” And then they just sit there, staring at each other in a way that Historia would later describe as dopily, before Ymir finally breaks her silence.

“For god’s sake - could you guys hold hands or kiss or something? I’m tired of not seeing shit,” Ymir curses, and immediately, Mikasa moves to fulfill the request.

Annie doesn’t see Mikasa coming because she’s too busy scowling and trying to hide the blush that’s flushed across her cheeks. She must blush easily, Mikasa wonders, filing that piece of information away for later. She knows that she’s much better at hiding her emotions than others, almost detrimentally so, but even she can’t hide the tremble in her hands as she makes her way over to the kitchen table. Her strides are purposeful, and every step closer to Annie makes her heart want to beat straight out of it’s chest. Something as trivial as shaking a hand shouldn’t make her so nervous. She’s touched hundreds of hands - not all at once, of course - but the direness that settles into her bones makes it feel like this was a make or break moment - like she needs to wow Annie with the grip of her hand or else the other woman would disappear like a mirage. 

Decidedly, that’s not something she wants to occur, so she sets her shoulders and tries to meet the other woman’s gaze. Annie has turned back by this point, hooded eyes widening when she realizes that Mikasa actually listened to her soulmate, and setting her face back into something that resembles blankness but is actually more stern. She doesn’t let that deter her, though. When she reaches Annie, she holds out a hand, taking care not to thrust it out and to put it at perfect height for Annie’s own. Annie stares at it for a few moments, looking as if it might come out and bite her, and Mikasa swallows, the only other sign of her apprehension. The other woman zeroes in on the bobble of her throat and slowly reaches out to accept the grasp. 

Truthfully, there isn’t anything magical about the moment, and simultaneously, Eren and Ymir nearly ruin the importance of the event by letting out exaggerated gasps of relief. Mikasa would roll her eyes at her own soulmate, but admittedly, the contact feels...nice. Annie’s hand is rather small in her own, obvious by their own height difference, but it fits so well. She likes the way her thumb rests against her skin, likes the iciness from her nerves, likes how firm the grip is. If Annie had wanted to wow Mikasa with the handshake, she was definitely wow-ed. 

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Annie,” Mikasa says quietly, as if it will somehow keep the conversation between the two of them. “My name is Mikasa Ackerman, if you didn’t know that beforehand.”

This time, it’s Annie’s turn to swallow. “I’ve been wondering about that first name - but I think your soulmate screamed it out enough times for it to sink in,” Annie replies, equally as quietly but also tinted with the faintest traces of amusement. 

Behind them, Eren lets out a snort.

“Way to make that sound dirty, Annes,” Ymir deadpans.

Historia and Annie move in sync with each other, turning to chide the other woman, though Annie is admittedly more violent about the approach. Mikasa herself has turned to glare warningly at her brother for interrupting the moment, who only cowers in response, holding his hands up. 

Annie’s voice brings her back to her, though. “Sorry about her. She was dropped on her head as a child,” she explains with a scowl, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

Her lips twitch in response when Ymir bites back, “that’s not nice, y’know. I totally could’ve been, and we wouldn't even know.”

“Oh, we know,” Annie retorts flatly, and Mikasa can’t help the little laugh that escapes her. Her soulmate looks oddly pleased at the sound, but Mikasa is quick to cover it up, tucking her chin to her neck and allowing her scarf to cover her mouth. She knows she’s just made a terrible faux pas. How rude of her to laugh at Historia’s soulmate when they haven't even been properly acquainted yet. So she turns to look at Ymir, and as per the theme of the night, everyone in the general vicinity besides her and Eren tense up, going rigid in place. Ymir herself has an odd look to her face, like she’s attempting to hold it still but there’s an expression pulling desperately at it. 

It makes her look rather...familiar.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced, but frankly, I have the strangest feeling that we’ve met before,” Mikasa narrows her eyes, trying to picture Ymir’s face in her mind.

Historia whimpers, and both Annie and Ymir begin to vehemently deny the claim, shaking their heads. 

“Nope! Wasn’t me!”

“She doesn’t get out often. You wouldn’t have seen her.”

But now the picture is settling in Mikasa’s head.

It’s the eyes, maybe - or the way she’s moving her head - but…

“You’re - ” Mikasa begins, stiffening abruptly and bristling at the realization. She’s taking a step back before she realizes it - maybe off of pure instinct.

“Mikasa…” Historia starts slowly, trying to step in between her and Ymir. “I know - ”

“She’s - ” she interrupts, hissing accusingly. “That’s - she’s - your soulmate is - ” she has to cut herself off to swallow the strangled scream that wants to burst from her throat. 

The people in front of her are staring at her warily - like she’s the crazy one, and it actually starts to make her feel like she is crazy. Annie and Historia are looking like they might dive bomb in front of Ymir the moment Mikasa makes a move - and okay, she’s not going to attack the woman. It’s just… what the fuck!!! This woman literally made it into her top 3 worst days of her life, and suddenly she’s the feral beast that’s going to punch a woman unprovoked? No!  

But doesn’t she deserve an explanation? Obviously - obviously, she’s not as fucking crazy as she seemed, because she’s sitting here at her kitchen table eating her pizza like a normal, non-crazy person. Though she does look suspiciously green in the face, no matter how much she tries to hide it by pointing her nose upwards…

A deep frown pulls at Mikasa’s lips, and she turns all of her attention on Ymir, peering over Historia’s head to glare down at her. If possible, Ymir’s face pinches even further, but before Historia, Annie, or Armin can interfere, she puts her hand up to silence them.

Very quietly, very seriously, she says, “Explain.”

And Ymir is all too willing to open her mouth.

“Listen, lady - you caught me on a bad day. I literally just woke up like 5 minutes before, and Annie’s light was dimming so I freaked the fuck out. Not my brightest moment to scream at you from the window, but I didn’t know what else to do! You were leaving, and Anne’s here was without a soulmate. Seemed to make sense at the time to do whatever to stop you,” she grumbles out, though she can’t quite keep the embarrassment from her voice. 

“A-and Ymir saw a picture of you on the coffee table and totally orchestrated this whole meeting with Annie, s-so, please keep that in mind!” Historia adds, squeaking like she’s actually afraid for her soulmate’s wellbeing.

What did they think she was going to do? If Ymir was the first person she saw when she walked in, sure - she probably would’ve escalated the situation - maybe put the woman in a chokehold - but that hadn’t happened! Because she found Annie, and because she’s Annie and Historia's soulmate, she wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

Reasonably, the most she thinks they should’ve expected from her in this situation was perhaps a mighty glare, or even just the threat of action. To think she’d throw down with the woman like one of those tacky WWE showdowns that Eren watched just because she’d given her a mighty spook was preposterous. 

Well, Historia did have a penchant for dramatics. And, seemingly, Armin too. 

Plus, she couldn’t very well be mad at Ymir for using less than orthodox tactics to keep her from leaving the general vicinity. She’s sure her own soulmate would’ve resorted to even more dire tactics than that if their situations had been reversed. 

The matter is resolved, and easily, the tension drains from her shoulders. 

She shrugs. “Okay. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” 

Ymir blinks in shock, but it’s Annie who asks, “just like that?”

Mikasa nods. “The explanation made sense. It’s just best to put it behind us now.”

Annie just stares hard at her, looking vaguely awed by the simplicity of it all as she mutters out an almost skeptical, “Oh, you really are perfect,” at the same time Ymir’s face sets back into a scowl and she finally slouches into her seat from where she’d been sitting rigidly, growling, “you had me thinking she was gonna kill me or somethin’!”

Shocked by the compliment, she goes pink, glancing away nervously. Annie, as if realizing what she just said, mirrors the action.

“Mikasa can be really scary sometimes! Seriously! She’s not afraid to fight someone, and she was really freaked out that day she came home!” Historia protests poutily, trying to defend herself.

“I didn’t even know about any of this, but I definitely would’ve put money down that Mikasa would’ve fought you! Do you know how hard it is to freak her out? You must’ve looked pretty fucking ghoulish to have scared her,” Eren mentions, looking pensive and disgruntled at the same time, as if he’s almost upset that the matchup hadn’t occurred. Mikasa has to fight the urge to send a reproachful look at him - she was one to talk. She always grew slightly excited whenever Historia or Eren picked a fight at a bar. 

Ymir scowls even more. “Alright, alright, we get it - I looked awful. Rub it in.”

Mikasa rubs her neck, feeling some sort of sympathy for her. “If it makes you feel better, I was having a terrible day beforehand. You just happened to be the topper.”

“It doesn’t,” Ymir bites out when Annie guffaws, “but thanks.” She does, however, look slightly mollified by how Historia is cooing over her. 

"Anyways," Armin says, rubbing his hands together and drawing the attention of the room towards him. Mikasa notes immediately that Historia and him are sharing a meaningful look, and immediately, her gut feeling is telling her that she's not going to like whatever comes out of their mouths next. "Game night anyone?"

"Not on your life," comes Annie's immediate reply.

"This is still date number 4! I get Historia for at least until the end of the day before you force that on us," is Ymir's indignant one.

Mikasa can only grimace, knowing that she was right, while Eren scowls, ever the sore loser. (It was always tough to go against Armin during game night, and Historia was always quick to call dibs. Mikasa herself has a bit of a chip on her own shoulder remembering how many times she's lost to those two.)

Instead of deigning them with a reply, she turns her own attention to the pretty blonde sitting moodily in her chair. When Annie catches her eye, she cocks her head in questioning (something she finds inordinately cute). Swallowing up all of her pride and attempting to clear her face of any expression, Mikasa motions towards the door. "Dinner?" she asks, sounding more confidant than she felt. 

Annie looks surprised, but it disappears as quick as it comes. Shrugging, she stands up from the table, and Mikasa is once again reminded of the difference in height between them. Somewhere, deep inside, this appeases a primal desire of hers, one she wasn't aware of before previously, but she quickly shoves that to the back of her head. Dinner. She has to get through dinner first.

"Sure. There's a brewery not too far from here if you want," Annie mentions, already making her way to the door.

All too happy to trail after her, Mikasa answers, "fine by me." 

"But what about game night," Historia calls after them with a faux expression of disappointment that Mikasa is sure is only really half fake. Behind her, Ymir is waving her hand in front of her neck - as if she needed encouragement to get away from game night.

"Let's see how they survive sunday brunch first, Historia," she pauses, glancing at her companion. "And if Annie can survive me."

Snorting, Annie raises an eyebrow. "Please - I can take you, Ackerman," she taunts, sauntering out the front door with a final knowing look while Ymir mutters out a sarcastic, "goodbye to you too, soulmate." 

Mikasa sighs wistfully after her. "I sure hope so."