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“Bertholdt, I’m serious about her. I just-“
He stared at her, and she blushed, rolling over to hide her face.
“Don’t say anything! She’s just… she’s fucking perfect, okay?”
--
Ymir laid down beside Historia, looking at the way her hair fell in her face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. With a smile, she pulled her closer, and Historia sighed sleepily.
“Ymir…”
Her voice was whisper soft, and she knew she wasn’t fully awake, but the love and contentment in her tone…
Ymir held her a little bit tighter.
--
Ymir hated talking on the phone. It was stilted and awkward and fucking terrifying.
But talking to Historia on the phone was none of that. Ymir felt no pressure to know what she was trying to say, no nagging anxiety while the phone rang, and her voice was soft and gentle.
The ringtone didn’t hurt either.
“All I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend, me and my girlfriend-“
Ymir grinned, answering her phone.
“Sup, babe?”
--
God, she hated visiting her parents.
Oh well, she was home now.
After closing the door and throwing her bag down, she heard Historia’s voice.
“Ymir?”
“I’m home!”
Historia shrieked in joy, and she ran out of their bedroom, throwing herself at Ymir. She caught her, spinning around from the force and sudden weight, laughing.
She was definitely home.
--
“Ymir. Hey, Ymir. Wake up.”
Historia shook her, and she opened her eyes blearily.
“What d’you want?”
“Come on, I made pancakes.”
Historia pulled her out of bed, Ymir stumbling after her. They went to the kitchen, and she sat at the counter, watching her girlfriend.
She was absolutely the most beautiful person she had ever met. Her blonde hair shone in the morning sunlight, trailing down her back, and half-asleep, Ymir swore she looked just like an angel. Historia had stolen one of her larger shirts, and it draped over her small frame almost like a one-sleeved dress. She noticed with interest that it was the only thing she wore.
“Here.”
She slid a plate of pancakes across the counter, and sat down with her own, smiling at Ymir.
--
Ymir moaned and Historia stroked her hair, nudging aside the packet of saltine crackers with her foot.
“I told you not to eat so much, baby.”
“Bertl triple dog dared me, Historia…”
She hid a smile as Ymir adjusted her heating pad, curling into her.
Ymir and her pride.