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Historia felt like ass. No exaggeration. When her eyes cracked open and her head pounded softly, she turned over onto her side with a pained groan and wondered who the fuck left her blinds open. Burning sunlight poured in and over her back, bathing her skin. Just the action of turning over made her ache everywhere, but when her brain finally registered that the sun was on her very naked back, she bolted upright and snapped her eyes open. She immediately swayed but kept her balance with a hand in the sheets, and then a groan beside her made her stiffen and she swallowed thickly. God, her mouth tasted like ass too.
“What time is it?” her bed partner asked in a voice thick with sleep and mild pain.
Historia knew that voice. She just… never thought she would ever wake up—naked—beside Mikasa Ackerman.
“Uh, one in the afternoon,” Historia rasped.
Mikasa bolted upright at the sound of her voice. She was, as Historia had assumed, very naked herself. The sheet fell away and pooled by her waist, revealing her breasts, but she seemed to be more concerned with Historia than with covering her nudity.
“Historia?”
Historia covered her face with her hand. “Good morning, Mikasa.” She felt the blush travelling up the back of her neck and tried her best not to peek between her fingers.
“You… I… We’re naked.”
Historia swallowed. “I noticed.” The throbbing at her temples was slowly fading, but she felt incredibly sore. It was like her muscles had been completely overworked. What the fuck had she done last night, run a marathon? What did she—oh. Historia’s heart skipped in her chest when she realized exactly what she must have done last night, to constitute such soreness in every single one of her muscles.
The bed dipped. “What happened last night?”
“I don’t know,” Historia answered. “I remember meeting everyone at the pub and having drinks, but after Eren’s first round of shots… nothing.”
Mikasa was busy dressing from what Historia could gather, but she still didn’t uncover her eyes until Mikasa went silent and she figured it was safe. Mikasa stood beside the bed, staring at her with wide, shocked eyes. She had her jeans on but only a bra, and Historia got a good eyeful of not only her fucking amazing body, but also the scattering of bite marks all along her abs and throat. It looked like the marks even trailed down into her pants, and Historia’s cheeks flamed.
“Your skin…” Mikasa said, her own cheeks bright and red. “There are, uh… some…”
Historia’s eyes flew open. She forgot her nudity and her hangover and dove for her leather jacket lying across the room. She pulled her phone out and used it as a mirror to look at her reflection, and sure enough, her entire body was covered in bite-sized bruises. She looked over to Mikasa in horror and noticed she was averting her eyes. Historia quickly dressed while Mikasa did the same. The only thing she couldn’t find was her panties, but that was okay. She assumed they were ruined, anyway. Plus, she needed to just head home and pretend this had never happened.
“So, clearly we fucked last night,” Historia finally announced once she gathered all of her things and grabbed her jacket. “But I don’t remember anything.”
Mikasa made her bed for a long, silent moment. “Yeah, me too,” she admitted. “I think I need a shower.”
Historia limped to the door. “I think I do too. Are you sore? I’m so sore. All over.”
Mikasa’s lips pressed together. Neither of their faces had drained of colour since they both realized what they had done to each other, together, in this very room, last night. “A bit, um,” she looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah.”
Historia wanted to laugh. This all felt incredibly awkward and she just wanted to get into her car and go home. They left the bedroom together and entered the lounge, where they found their shoes and a sock, and the couch had been completely flipped over. Historia spotted some red smears on the wall and wearily went to investigate, but discovered that it was only lipstick.
They eventually stood in front of Mikasa’s door, staring awkwardly at each other.
“So, I guess I’ll go then,” Historia started, twisting her hands together. “Last night was, fun? I think?”
Mikasa’s expression could only be described as pained. And perhaps even guilty. Historia really hoped that she didn’t regret what they had done—if they really had fucked—because she didn’t want to lose this friendship. She and Mikasa had been dancing around each other for the past year since they met at their usual pub, and though they had flirted many times, they had never really… tried to take it further. Historia had many sexy fantasies that involved this exact situation—both of them bruised and limping from a night of hot, intense sex. She just couldn’t remember a fucking thing and it was making her incredibly uncomfortable.
“Yeah,” Mikasa said. “I think so too. If we did. I don’t remember anything after we got an uber from the pub.”
Historia’s eyes widened. “So where is my car?”
Mikasa gave her a look. “You can’t remember falling into bed with me. Do you really think you would have been driving while that drunk?”
“Well, I assume I would have tried.”
“Exactly. And I immediately stopped you.”
Historia chewed her bottom lip. “Huh. Maybe that’s how we ended up here.”
Mikasa pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it, forlorn. “It’s Eren,” she sighed. Historia opened her mouth, but then Mikasa answered and pressed the phone to her ear. “It’s on silent, Eren. I didn’t hear your first twenty calls.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Eren yelled so loudly that Historia could hear it.
“At home. Sleeping. We just woke up.”
There was a second of silence. “Oh my god. Armin, you were right!”
Mikasa and Historia shared a look. “Eren, Armin was right about what?”
Eren’s voice gained in excited volume. “He said you were probably still in bed with Historia. Man, last night was so fucked up. You two were insane. Are you both okay? I didn’t see all of the videos, but from what I saw I didn’t think either of you were that flexible.”
At once, the colour drained from their faces.
“Eren, what the hell are you talking about?” Mikasa asked in a rush. “What videos? What happened last night?”
There was a very long pause, and then Historia could no longer hear the other voice since Armin must have taken the phone.
“What!?” Mikasa shouted, her face filled with horror. “We… yeah, okay. Sure. Let us, just, uh, clean up and then we’ll meet you first thing. Yeah, thirty minutes. See you.” She ended the call. Historia had never seen Mikasa look so stricken before.
Historia swallowed. “Mikasa, what did Armin tell you?”
Mikasa rubbed a hand over her face. “We apparently took a look of videos last night,” she explained. “And posted them on Instagram.”
Historia immediately pulled her phone out and opened the app. Sure enough, she had a dozen posts from the night before and well into the early morning. Most of the pictures were blurry and she could hardly tell who or what was in them, but every one or two was clear. A lot of them were of Mikasa, and some had her and Mikasa lip-locked and completely indecent. Historia avoided the videos until she found the first one, the thumbnail that of a blurry street and her heels just in the frame. She hesitantly clicked play. Mikasa moved closer to look
“MIikaaassaaaa! Come on, let me drive, pa-leassse,” her own drunken voice blasted from her speaker.
“You will do no such thing,” Mikasa responded in the video. The camera whooshed up to show Mikasa walking beside her. It was pretty dark but Historia’s phone had Gucci quality, so they could easily make out her face and she looked incredibly drunk. They were both walking unsteadily and when the camera swung down, they were holding hands.
“I will do all such things,” Historia replied.
Mikasa snorted and then laughed in the video. “Oh, there’s the uber. Let’s go, His’. It’s getting nippy and I’m tired.”
“No, wait!” The camera blurred as it was flung up and pointed across the street. “Let’s go eat something! Please, Mikasa?”
“But, the uber…”
The camera was dropped, but in the corner the two of them were still visible. Historia and Mikasa watched themselves kiss for a moment in the video, and then it ended and they shared another look.
“I’m scared, Mikasa.”
Mikasa started going through her own posts. “What the fuck happened last night?”
“What did Eren put in those drinks? Why is the whole night just, gone?”
“I don’t know. But Armin wants to meet up and explain what happened. He said we’d want to hear it before we see it.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, sighing.
Historia couldn’t help but linger on the sight of Mikasa’s large bicep. God, she was so hot. She couldn’t believe she had finally managed to sleep with Mikasa, only to not remember a single second of it. She could feel the evidence—there was a definite soreness deep inside that she could only get from being fucked out of her mind, and her muscles hurt probably both from fucking Mikasa and also just being absolutely torn apart. If she didn’t feel so out of sorts, Historia might have just cried about her first—and possible only—time with Mikasa being sullied.
“Let’s just shower, and then meet the boys,” Mikasa told her. “You can wear some of my clothes.”
Historia nodded and then the two of them cleaned up and changed. Mikasa’s clothes were a bit big, but they would do. Historia didn’t want to be stuck in the tiny skirt she had worn the night before, especially since it smelt nasty and she was sure she had spilled something on it. Mikasa only had a pair of boxer briefs to offer, but they were small enough to fit her snuggly, and then they were off to meet up with their friends.
Eren waved when he spotted them walk into the café, so the walked over to his table and carefully sat down across from them. Historia winced slightly as her muscles screamed with every movement.
“Hey,” Eren greeted them, face neutrally polite.
“Good morning,” Armin said cheerfully.
Mikasa looked uncomfortable. “Hey guys.”
Historia slapped her hand down on the table. “So what the hell happened last night?”
Everyone looked at her. Armin seemed completely relaxed but Eren’s face grew slightly redder. When Armin pulled his phone out, Mikasa visibly swallowed.
“Well, Eren kept teasing Historia that she couldn’t drink more than him,” Armin started to explain, scrolling through his phone. “You ended up in a drinking contest. Eren stopped early, but you, Historia, kept going. You had Mikasa drink alongside you too.”
Historia stared down at her lap. “I don’t even remember that.”
“I’m sure. You were pretty drunk.”
“I’m sorry for antagonizing you,” Eren mumbled. “I didn’t realize it would result in you banging my sister.”
Mikasa reached over the table and smacked Eren on the side of the head. “Eren!”
“Mikasa!” he yelled back, rubbing his ear. “Why do you always have to hit me!”
Mikasa’s face had gone incredibly red. “Because you’re an idiot!”
Armin started to laugh. “Have you both gone through all the videos? You should probably take them down.”
Historia pulled her phone out and realized that yeah, she probably should have done that already. She started going through all the posts and deleting each one she saw, and the amount of comments and likes made her stomach roll. Historia was quite beautiful, so she had a lot of followers on Instagram. It horrified her she might have posted some really nasty stuff. She pointedly ignored their comments out of fear of what she would see. At her side, Mikasa was doing the same on her own account—which she also had a lot of followers on, what with her being sculpted by the gods and a lesbian icon.
“So are we going to order anything to eat? I’m starving,” Eren grumbled.
Historia paused by a picture that made her face pale. She was on her back, her shirt pushed up and a hand wrapped around her throat. Her breasts were just there, out, even if the picture was a bit blurry. Historia immediately deleted it and then put her phone away, scarlet red.
Mikasa exhaled heavily. “I’ll finish this later,” she mumbled more to herself. “I can’t… these pictures.”
Historia swallowed. “Mikasa, I’m so sorry.”
Mikasa looked at her and smiled. It was the kind, gentle smile that always made Historia’s breath hitch. No matter how attractive Mikasa was physically, there was so much about her personality that just drew Historia in.
“I was a consenting adult in this,” Mikasa told her softly. “You don’t need to apologize.” Her eyes dropped to Historia’s throat and she looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe I should be the one apologizing.”
Historia suddenly remembered the dull throb inside of her. She even had bite marks on her inner thighs, and feeling the mild pain again made her body react in the most predictable way—her clit throbbed. So as to distract herself from her sudden arousal, Historia picked up the menu and started to go through it. Mikasa started to receive calls and answered them, mostly lowing her voice so no one else could hear. From what Historia picked up, though, it was various friends and family of Mikasa’s calling her to find out why she had basically posted a sex tape.
Historia felt awful.
Their food arrived and Mikasa put her phone off, and then they got into light conversation as they ate. Eren offered to pay for everything by way of apology and Historia happily accepted. Mikasa was quiet and Eren kept up most of the conversation, but that was okay. When they were done eating and their bill had been paid, Eren levelled Historia with a serious look.
“So, I guess you’re finally a thing now, huh?” he asked her bluntly.
Mikasa stiffened and Historia’s mouth popped opened. “Uh, wha…?”
Eren’s brows furrowed. “Look, I know the two of you have been into each other for a long time. So whatever this is, please work it out. And if you hurt my sister, I’ll hurt you back.” By the seriousness in his voice, Historia didn’t doubt him.
“You touch her and I’ll break you in half,” Mikasa warned him, her voice icy. The sudden aggression in her voice surprised everyone, Historia the most.
“Whoa, Mika. I’m defending you!”
“I can defend myself, Eren. I don’t need you threatening girls on my behalf.”
Mikasa stood abruptly and left, striding angrily out the café and to her car. The three of them stared after her, shocked, and then Historia quickly followed.
“I’ll sort it out, don’t worry. Thanks for the food, Eren!” she yelled over her shoulder. She didn’t turn to see if they waved goodbye.
When Historia got into the car and shut the door, she turned to fully face Mikasa. She was staring at the wheel, her fingers clenched tightly around it.
“I’m sorry,” Mikasa told her softly.
Historia reached out and touched her arm. “Mikasa, you don’t need to apologize. This whole thing was…” She swallowed and tried to think of what to say. Mikasa released the wheel and then suddenly her hand slid against Historia’s and their fingers intertwined. Historia’s heart jumped into her throat.
“I’m so angry,” Mikasa told her, levelling her with a smouldering gaze. “So incredibly angry.”
Historia licked her lips. “Why?”
“Because I clearly had you,” she answered, eyes trailing down Historia’s throat and the finger-like bruises there. “And I can’t even remember it. I finally sleep with you, and it’s when I’m blackout drunk.”
Historia’s breath stuttered. “Wait, ‘finally’?”
Mikasa’s expression turned wounded. “You really don’t know?”
“I, uh… no?”
“I’m in love with you.”
The admission shocked her silent. Mikasa mistook her silence for rejection and quickly pulled her hand away. Historia immediately grabbed and pulled it back.
“Me too!” she blurted. “I mean, I’m also really upset because clearly we had an insane night together and I wish I could remember every second of it, because I’ve wanted to do that with you since the day I met you.”
Mikasa’s fingers tightened around hers. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Look at you, Mikasa.”
“No, look at you.”
“You take my breath away.”
Mikasa’s smile was radiant. “You make my chest burn, Historia.” She reached out and ran a hand through Historia’s hair. Her fingers were sure and confident as they slid from her hair to her jaw, trailing until her lips. “Can I kiss you?”
Historia inhaled shakily. “At this point, you can do anything to me.”
They met halfway, lips pressing softly together, hesitant. When Mikasa’s lips moved against hers, Historia’s entire body filled with warmth. The kiss was sweet and intense, and Historia just wanted to melt into Mikasa’s mouth.
“Your place, or mine?” she gasped out against Mikasa’s mouth.
Mikasa grinned. “I don’t mind, so long as we remember this time.”