after {all} this {time} //ymir x historia//

[ᴥ]

her majesty Historia Reiss 

Days had passed since I'd slept in Ymir's arms. Wasted and ranting, the pungent smell of alcohol surely sticking to my breath and most of my clothing. I slept close to her all that night, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, refusing to release the beautiful woman. From the memories however blackened and stained I can recall, it was heaven. However, the next day was the complete opposite. Angry bees growled in my ears, their stingers forcing themselves into my skull. I couldn't move, couldn't even think. There was no way I could make it home in such a hung over state.

She's a saint, really. Letting me stay in her apartment for so many days. The hangover had already receded, hours of sleep and darkness nursing the foul thing. I simply couldn't bring myself to leave. I'd spend hours, building up the courage to ask Ymir to be mine. Even going as far as to talk to myself, rehearsing what I would say.

Ymir, you're beautiful. And for a while now, I've wanted to ask you something...
No, no that's not right.

Ymir I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now.

No, no, no.

Ymir will you be my girlfriend?

What is this, high school?

Every possible phrasing has been repeated over and over to a reflection who neither sees nor hears. Always shot down, always rethought and revised. I wanted it to be perfect. That way, Ymir couldn't turn me down, right?

Now, there's no turning back. I've crafted a plan and by ripred I'll make it work. Evening has descended upon what will hopefully be my last day as just friends with Ymir. I've yet to even mention taking leave of her apartment, however small it may be. Instead, I insist on making dinner tonight. I'm not one for cooking really, I live off the prepackaged stuff myself. Was never taught how, never really given a reason to. Just like everything else, she changed that.

I'd rushed to the corner store, buying whatever looked appealing. I have absolutely no clue how to be a housewife, nor do I ever intend to be one. I'm a soldier, born and raised by my own two hands. Quite honestly, it's a miracle I figured out how to turn on the stove. But I'll be damned if I don't sweep her off her feet tonight. If it really was how Armin said, she'd been waiting a long time. Tonight had to make up for everything I've done to her. My own selfish insecurities keeping happiness away.

She's always been my protector, someone to hide behind when I got scared. Ever since we'd met, I'd yearned for more, but I was far too broken to realize just what that meant. A friendship is by no means something to be taken for granted... but this was more. Or at least I was about to make it so.

I'd spent longer than usual staring at the mirror this morning. Brushing through tangled hair and washing glossy skin. Breathing in steam as I tried to calm my racing heart. No matter my determination, doubt always managed to creep back into the dark corners of my subconscious. What if she says no?. I'd rather take on any mutt right now, rather be faced with a thousand deaths than figure out how I was going to do this. My attempts at dropping hints had failed horribly, or if she'd noticed she didn't let on. I was done being a coward, however. I was going to do this, and do it now, no matter the consequences

The table was lined with a silk tablecloth, a lit candle acting as the centerpiece. The extent of my cooking skills already set upon the table, a pile of noodles covered in rich red sauce. It seemed so anticlimactic after at least an hour of preparation, but sadly was all I could manage. Wine glasses filled with a sparkling cider sit next to the full plates, i am done with alcohol for a long time. It was as close as I could come to the romantic movies which danced like a candle's flame before my eyes, taunting me with their happy endings.

I'd dressed sparingly tonight. A red dress hugging my chest and hips, burning as deep red as my cheeks. It fell to my mid-thigh, and was something I always felt confident in. "Y-ymir! Dinner is ready!" my voice shakes, breath quickening with every passing second. I feared I'd pass out, land face first in the dinner I'd spent so long preparing. It'd be quite the proposal, I'll admit, but definitely not one I intended on making.

My words weren't carefully crafted, preplanned and practiced. I was going to be me, ask her in a way that felt right. Everything had always been so natural with her, I felt it shouldn't change now. If I couldn't get the words out, if I choked last minute, i don't know what I'd do. Honestly, I was only sure of one thing tonight, and that was I was giving this my all.

I'm going big, or going home.

[Python]

[presto][/presto]

Y M I R

{ I live for me ;

Call her selfish, but she was starting to miss the comforts of her mattress. Nights of eagerly lending it to Historia had reminded her of how goddamned lumpy her sofa was, and how itchy the spare blanket in her closet felt. It was a price to pay for beautiful company, though. She hardly knew why the little blonde bird was lingering in her cramped abode, but her presence was far from unwelcome. Initially the choice to stay had been a request for post-intoxication care, or in her own terms a really fucking painful hangover that had left her poor Historia a groaning, grumpy mess with alcohol breath and bloodshot eyes. Of course she would volunteer to nurse her back to health, she was the one who introduced her to drinking in the first place. Apparently she hadn’t taught her to drink responsibly though, since she had decided to gulp whiskey with another newbie (Seriously judging your choice in company, Historia. I’m a much better drunk.)

After two encounters with a drunk Historia, she figured it was safe to say that the girl was very clingy under the influence. During both instances the girl’s petite arms had snaked themselves around her waist. It was actually kind of embarrassing because of what she recalled from that evening. ”You’re a much better pillow,” Historia had cooed, nuzzling against her as she sunk into the sofa with a smirk plastered against a canvas of freckles. There might’ve been a pink stain lurking somewhere in those freckles, but she would forever deny that because Ymir did not blush. Also, that statement had raised a hell of a question; what pillow was she being compared to? Because Historia better not have been snuggle buddies with Armin fucking Arlert, that incompetent whining little nerd.

”I’m the best pillow.” Had been her impulse response, and if that wasn’t embarrassing then life would cease to make any damn sense to her. Fortunately, she was sure Historia had forgotten it, and for that she was definitely grateful. As an added perk, she had been handed a free cuddle-session on a platter, and despite the whole “platonic won’t become a thing” thing she was eager to indulge. Days later it was torture to think about it now that her sofa was once again cold and uncomfortable with no arms to offer their warmth, but at least Historia was still here. She didn’t know how long the girl planned to stick around, especially when she was accustomed to luxuries that her pathetic run-down apartment couldn’t provide. She didn’t plan on rushing her, though. Stay forever if you’d like.

That cute angel voice was summoning her. Yes, she was hearing that right, and she still couldn’t believe it – Historia was cooking dinner for her. Seriously, what has gotten into her? Was she always like this with company in an apartment? It might be her wild imagination but this was starting to feel like - dare she say it, a date. But that was ridiculous, she was probably just being nice. Still, it was suspicious. The past few days had felt both strange and surreal, because the girl had been carrying herself with a different air. She was hesitant whenever she spoke, and her gaze looked hopeful, like she was expecting something. Ymir didn’t know what that something was. Her hangover was gone, what else was there? Did she just want to broaden their friendship? Maybe that was it.

She brushed her brown nest and tied it back into a ponytail (I can at least pretend it’s a date). She found Historia in the kitchen standing in front of a bowl of pasta, the sauce dousing its contents in a shade of red that paled in comparison to fabric that hugged the blonde’s frame. The irresistible urge to stare like an ogling idiot passed her by, and she tried to distract herself instead by examining the decorations. Tablecloth, a lit candle – the “date” vibe was amplifying, but this was probably just Historia’s exquisite taste. She was definitely classy, there was no denying that. ”I feel under dressed,” she chuckled, hiding her nerves with a cheeky smirk. It’s not a date, it’s just pasta. She sat down in front of an empty plate and finally took the time to give her a once over. A slow, steady once over that Historia hopefully wouldn’t notice. ”Have you always had that dress?”

[presto][/presto]

[ᴥ]

her majesty Historia Reiss 

My entire body is caught in a frigid vortex of fear and anticipation. I'll never understand how Ymir manages to be so stunning, even dressed as casually as she. Breath catches in my throat , eyes glued upon the tall woman as she makes her way toward me. When she speaks, I can feel myself melt. And in a way, it's nearly worse. I'm a mess, a puddle of emotions and urges that I don't know what to do with. "I feel underdressed." She isn't. Ripred, she isn't. I can't speak though, not yet. Courage seems to have evaded me in this moment. With graceful movements, she takes the seat across from me. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was looking at me, in a way that made the blood rush to the tips of my ears. ”Have you always had that dress?”

I let out a nervous laugh, taking desperate sips of the cider. Sadly, it had none of the numbing effects of alcohol, leaving me a scared woman with no idea what to say. "Y-you aren't underdressed Ymir!" I sound like an idiot. "You're stunning, as usual." The grin that blooms across my lips, is wide enough to leave me looking like a fool. It can't be helped, I'd actually complimented Ymir. "And yeah, I've always had this dress laying around. It's nothing special really." I'm a shit liar, we both know it. Everything about this evening screams "something special". Quite honestly, there was no more point in beating around the bush. Forget this dinner! Forget my cooking and everything I'd prepared. She deserved more than some cookie cutter evening taken straight out of a romance novel.

My feet force my body upwards, not that there was much of a change in my height, my legs force my body closer to Ymir's. No turning back. No second guessing. One deep breath in, one deep breath out, and I'm ready. "Listen I, I've been trying to do this for a really long time and I thought I had everything planned out perfectly but this just isn't working out the way I thought it would-" It's an endless stream of apologies and explanations, moving the conversation nowhere near where I wanted it to be. "...I don't even know what you think of me and chances are I am way off base here and I'm just going to ruin our friendship but I can't go on like this, not knowing what could happen." It's not going to stop. Every word I'd rehearsed fleeing out the window, every feeling I'd come to realize escaping me in one, drawn out sentence. "...so I've finally just-"

This wasn't going anywhere. I was going to ruin everything before it even started. Let's live for the sake of ourselves. I was going to be selfish, I was going to do what I've wanted to do for a long time. I won't worry about what Ymir thinks, won't worry about what happens after this. I'm not going to overanalyze everything and deprive myself for the sake of another. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

My hand snakes around her neck. I have no clue what I'm doing. If she weren't sitting, I imagine this would be infinitely more difficult, but at least we're near enough height now. I try to think back to what I'd seen in the movies. They'd tilt their heads slightly, eyes closed and lips parted. It couldn't be that complicated, right?

The single moment before my lips met hers stretched on for a century. A thousand doubts and a million fears sink their claws into my skin. They pull and pull, trying to keep me from the moment of happiness I've never thought I deserve. Luckily, the feel of Ymir's breath upon my own lips is far stronger than any of the demons hidden in lifeless blue eyes.

The world melts around me the second my lips meet hers. They're soft and sweet and everything I could have ever imagined. It's everything I've ever wanted. A spark makes its way across my arms and legs, turning them into nothing more than jelly. It leaves me feeling more alive than I've ever felt, the emotion beat out of me since childhood returning to me in a sudden wave of relief. I can't tell you how long it lasted, whether it was only a second, or a minute, or even longer. Only that when I pulled away, I was overcome with regret.

Tears make their way to the corner of my eyes, a mixture of frustration and fear. What if Ymir didn't like me? What if Ymir only wanted to be friends? What if, what if, what if...

The worries are endless, showering upon me like a bullets from heavy artillery. Quite honestly, I don't know what makes me feel worse. That I'd kissed Ymir without permission, or that I wanted more than anything to do it again.

"I'm sorry..." I gasp, a sob breaking my words. I've just humiliated myself in front of the girl I think I love. Ruined everything just like I always do! "I don't know what got into me- I just- sorry..."

[Python]

[presto][/presto]

Y M I R

{ Let's live for us ;

Historia skipped out on the alcohol in favor of cider, and Ymir didn’t blame her. She probably won’t touch alcohol for a long time after that nasty hangover. That would be wise. Unfortunately for Ymir a migraine and a touch of nausea wouldn’t scare her away from her precious booze, and with this romantic illusion trying to coax her into believing hopeless dreams it was a prominent craving that she couldn’t satisfy. ”Y-you aren't underdressed Ymir!” Historia stammered between sips of cider, her jittery body language contrasting with the tranquil environment. What was there to be nervous about? ”You’re stunning, as usual.” If she hadn’t trained herself to remain so casual and collected in most situations she would’ve spat her cider. Instead she abruptly set the glass down and cleared her throat. Compliments from Historia she was used to, but not something like that. Stunning. Nobody ever call Ymir stunning.

”Thanks,” she muttered, voice barely audible even in the awkward silence. “Nothing special” was how she described that delicious dress. Guess that’s to be expected from a rich girl. It was almost laughable, but the nerves beneath her skin were fidgeting under a mysterious pressure. Why am I so nervous? She was crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath the table, readjusting herself in her chair every five seconds. Be cool, Ymir, shit. Maybe it was time to shut up and eat the pasta before it ended up cold. Cold pasta was disgusting. She reached for the bowl to serve herself a well-deserved meal – not even thinking of returning the compliment like any normal person would do on a date (it’s not a date and you’re a horrible person) – but the moment her fingers brushed the edge Historia was marching up to her, intent on sharing whatever was plaguing her mind.

She burst into a ramble about planning and friendship and “this isn’t working out” and “I don’t even know what you think of me” and it was a lot to absorb in such a minimal amount of time. What wasn’t working out, their current living situation? Was Ymir a terrible host? Her apartment was shit, that was true enough. It was also painfully true how little Historia knew about her feelings, she had hit that nail right on the head. The next part of the speech took an interesting turn. “..chances are I am way off base here and I'm just going to ruin our friendship but I can't go on like this, not knowing what could happen.” That sounded familiar, disturbingly familiar. That was exactly how Ymir felt every day, actually. Was Historia trying to say what she hoped thought she was trying to say? She didn’t want to raise her hopes up in case there was only more disappointment waiting for her, but this just sounded too real. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Historia was rambling about this next do a decorated dinner table with candles and cider while wearing a sexy red dress.

Holy shit.

She had rehearsed moments like this before in her daydreams, but now that it was actually happening she was stunned speechless. Say something, anything. She moistened her lips and prepared to break her barriers as gingerly as possible. She wasn’t going to pour her heart out or anything, but maybe a push was all Historia needed. Just one little nudge from a few short sentences. Right, she knew what she was going to say.

”Fuck it.”

She was interrupted before she could spill her honesty, and she wasn’t sure what surprised her more – the curse, or the arm slinking around her neck. Her eyes widened as Historia fulfilled every abandoned wish lying dormant inside of her head, tilting her head and closing her eyes in the cutest way imaginable before pressing her lips to Ymir’s. How many times had she imagined this? Since when did dreams become reality in such a cruel world as this one? Her lips are soft, softer than she had imagined. It was a struggle to ignore the overwhelming feelings of triumph and joy and disbelief and relief as she stared at Historia up-close and personal. Even her eyelashes were perfect, damn it. She closed her eyes and yielded to the kiss, but then it ended as abruptly as it had begun. When she opened her eyes again a breath lodged itself in her throat, because Historia looked horrified. Shit, what did I do wrong? Had she changed her mind? Was it a bad kiss? She had never received complaint before. What was wrong? What had dared to spoil their perfect moment?

”I’m sorry..” Ymir stared at her, hoping to suppress the hurt with a blank expression. She was pretty sure she was failing because her forehead was scrunched and her heart was panicking. "I don't know what got into me- I just- sorry..." She looked like she was going to cry from guilt, and Ymir was not going to stand for that shit. She had been waiting too damn long for this.

”Don’t you dare,” She stood up and cupped the blonde’s cheeks in her hands, leaning down until their foreheads touched. ”Don’t you dare apologize for something good.” She could feel breaths tickling her skin, and she tilted her head to kiss those lips again – a peck this time, something short and sweet to soothe their frenzied heads. ”Do you hear me?”

She could barely hear herself.

[presto][/presto]

[ᴥ]

her majesty Historia Reiss 

"Don't you dare." Her hands cup my cheeks, bringing her forehead to meet my own. Blood rushed furiously through my ears, adrenaline and excitement intermingling with the disbelief keeping me rigid. "Don't you dare apologize for something good." Her lips once again find mine. Only for a brief second, but enough to send my heart reeling into my throat. This feeling was intoxicating. Warmth spreading throughout my body, the corners of my mouth stretching into grin wider than i ever thought possible. To think that Ymir, this incredible, beautiful woman standing in front of me could return the feelings I'd harbored for so long now... Ripred please don't let this be a dream.

"You hear me?" Loud and clear.

I've never felt more vulnerable. Face only inches away from Ymir's, lips yearning to once again touch hers. Here, the arms of my guardian, I felt like I could do anything. She kissed me despite knowing what I'd done, she comforted me even after I'd kept her waiting. I've never wanted to make anyone happy more than she. To see her smile and laugh and never hurt again. As impossible a feat as that is, I'll gladly take it on. For Ymir, and perhaps for me too. "Ymir..." I manage, wrapping my arms around her waist, gently pulling her body towards mine.

Having absolutely no clue what I was doing or where this was going, I laugh. A small, nervous laugh. I've never been this close to anyone before, never felt the way I do now. Twenty-two years were spent convincing myself that I didn't deserve happiness. That honor was the only way I could redeem myself for this sins wallowed in since running away. Always running away. From home, from guilt, from any semblance of humanity that remained after killing my own father.

Ymir is the reason I could feel much of anything anymore. Her kindness had kept me going, even in the darkest of nights. Someone to turn to when I couldn't stand being alone. My other half.

My breath comes in labored pants, anticipation for what was to come enough to leave me winded. "I-I should've done this a long time ago. A very long time ago." My teeth grind against my lip for a split second, a moment's hesitation before doing what I so desperately wanted. Small hands release her waist, traveling to the collar of her shirt. I grasp the fabric so tightly my knuckles have turned white. In spite of myself, my eyes travel across her body before resting upon red lips.

I pull the taller girl toward me, smiling against her lips before closing the space completely. This time, I had no intention of pulling away.

For a long time, I thought happiness was rare. Something only for the lucky few who managed to evade life's many hardships. Joy couldn't exist where sadness already was. Black and white, good and evil. Everything was categorized, everything had its place. There was no such thing as grey.

But as my lips move against hers, pulling her as close to me as I dare, there was nothing but. She was good and kind and everything that I've never been. Yet she didn't pull away, she embraced me. She told me that, of all things, this was good.

That I was good.

What a ludicrous idea.

[Python]

[presto][/presto]

Y M I R

{ Let's live for us ;

After all of the waiting and watching and hoping and dreaming she was not going to pull away anytime soon. Years of pining and subtle jokes about “You should marry me when this is all over, Historia!” and trying to ignore her romantic feelings toward her best friend (and the only person who would honestly tolerate her) had led up to this moment, she realized. For how long had Historia returned these feelings? Had she been waiting in the dark as well, desperate to make a move but too afraid to ruin the precious bond they had assembled over the years? As their breaths mingled and her hands released those flushed cheeks she wondered if she even knew Historia as much as she thought she had, because if she had missed something this big then she was either blind or in serious denial, and Ymir was never blind to others’ homosexual feelings. She was proud to say that her gaydar was strong. The denial must’ve jammed it or something.

Gentle hands embraced her waist and guided her forward. Historia looked so happy – happier than she had seen her in months, maybe longer. Her nervous laughs relieved Ymir’s own jumbled nerves. She was known for keeping her cool, but how could she douse her excitement when the girl she was in love with had her hands on her waist and lips that were ripe and willing for kisses? ”I-I should've done this a long time ago. A very long time ago." Historia admitted, and she couldn’t agree more. Again she pondered how long ago this “should’ve happened”. Had these feelings risen during their trainee days, or after graduation? After joining Levi’s squad? After risking their lives? What about when she dragged Historia to that bar? When, when, when? The idea might kill her if she wasn’t careful. All of that misery and hopelessness and pathetic one-night stand coping strategies could’ve been avoided, damn it.

Best not dwell on that now. She could ask later.

”It’s worth the wait,” she replied, and she believed it. If this happiness had been in store for her all along then it was completely worth it, even if she had done some regrettable deeds after staying out too late with too much drinking money at her disposal. This, what was happening right now, was a damn miracle as far as she was concerned. Maybe the world wasn’t so cruel after all. Don’t jinx it now, Ymir.

Blue eyes traveled across her body and a pair of hands gripped her collar. What’s going on in that little head of yours? Ymir couldn’t help her smirks. I’m not the one in the sexy red dress. When she started to pull, Ymir heard that message loud and clear. She tilted her head and yielded to Historia’s kiss with as much vigor as she could summon, wrapping her arms around the petite blonde’s waist to rest at the small of her back. The caress of her lips was tender, and perhaps the loveliest thing she had ever felt. It made her heart leap wildly in her chest and the blood rush to her head. Ymir does not blush, yet she could feel flames in her cheeks that intended to fuel their heated kisses. There was nothing she wanted to savor more than this moment.

The urges to escalate their intimacy were a distraction, but as powerful as they were she knew better than to rush their newly-blossomed relationship. The risk of ruining what they had just achieved was high, and she couldn’t pursue it, not now. She pulled away – enough to keep their lips separated but their bodies still connected. ”You know,” she muttered between pants, smiling with teeth and flushed freckles. ”That pasta is going to get cold.” She glanced at the decorated table and its lit candle to alter the mood, and broadened her smile at the thought of actually going on a date with Historia. That’s what this all had been, after all. A date. Why not enjoy it, since Historia had taken the time and effort into setting it up? And then afterward they could make out again, or watch a movie. A date night. Perfect.

[presto][/presto]

[ᴥ]

her majesty Historia Reiss 

The kiss was nothing less than intoxicating. I could feel my head fill with a haze of joy and intimacy. Her breath against my lips as they moved in unison, Ymir's body against my own. Heat rose to my cheeks as thoughts and urges I'd never before felt filled a head usually so void. I wanted Ymir more than I'd ever wanted anything. She made me feel like I'd never been able to. Peeling away my calloused exterior leaving only raw emotion in its place. Lips curving into a smile against hers, I take a few rushed breaths before once again allowing myself to be lost in Ymir's embrace. Our bodies a tangled mess of limbs, pressed so tightly against one another I never wanted to end this moment.

I wanted to slap myself, to force myself awake from whatever cruel dream this was. It all felt so real, I knew this couldn't an illusion. My hands travel from her collar to the nape of her neck, bringing her as close to me as I dared. Feelings I could never hope to explain controlled every part of me, some mixture of lust and love bringing my heartbeat to frantic speeds. Every training session, every talk and experience between us had led up to this very moment. As evening settled upon the tiny room, finally expressing what had been veiled far too long.

The kiss an admittedly mild world could have lasted hours or mere seconds. I decided to let Ymir further or halt the moment of her own accord. No matter what I wanted, I was not going to chance such a perfect moment with inexperienced advances. Ymir knew how things like this worked, she was smart and sexy and had a hell of a lot more experience than I.

Nonetheless, I couldn't help but frown as she pulled away, lips recoiling at the absence of her own. It only lasted a split second quickly replaced by guilt at how greedy my actions seemed; but it felt almost incomplete, as if stopping on the verge of what could have been much more. Her smile was worth whatever disappointment, bringing out my own childish grin the longer my eyes rested upon her.

”You know,” our bodies were still connected, each labored breath pushing us closer together. "That pasta is going to get cold.".

Her statement catches me off guard. I had almost forgotten about the pale noodles cooling upon the table. Nothing happens for a few moments, even I find my breath catching within my throat as I attempt to process what she had just said. Slowly, the smile broadens, a bubbling sensation rising within my chest. It forces its way into my throat and into the air. The laughter echoes about a silent room, so forceful it reddens my cheeks and starves my lungs of the oxygen it had just replenished. It wasn't stopping, burying my face within the cloth of her shirt as my shoulders heaved with pure merriment. Every muscle was tensed in the pure joy released in short, wispy chuckles.

"Y-ymir." I manage between pants "You're just..." words failed me, so I pressed my lips against her cheek, reluctantly tearing myself away from her and fixing the dress which had become embarrassingly lopsided during our embrace.

"You are right, y'know." for once my eyes aren't on Ymir, but the steaming pasta, cold in comparison to the intense heat rising to my cheeks. "It's improper to have dessert before dinner." I shamelessly giggle at my own lame pun, too overjoyed to care about anything other than the excitement of what this night entailed. A date, a real, proper date with Ymir was more than I could have asked for. After all, I suppose I could use something to eat. The adrenaline from moments past had suppressed the rumbling within my gut, which now came back full force. I couldn't help but wonder, however, if I hungered for a little more than just food.