cataclysm | ymir x f!reader [AU]

VIII

There was a noise coming from behind you, something like wet, rubbery footsteps. Every step closer sounded louder, and you wanted to call out.

Ymir? you tried saying, but your lips were glued together, and no sound came from your throat. Not even a grumble.

You forced your eyes open, and noticed the familiar blue skin that you dreaded in your peripherals, but your head was frozen and you couldn't tilt it to get a better look. You tried to move your body, but it felt like there was a brick on your chest and restraints on your limbs, ultimately forcing you still. A Mew came into your sight as it towered over your face, mouth open and drooling as it prepared to take a bite out of you. You tried screaming, but there would be no sound. You tried moving, but to no avail.

Is this it?

A distant, reverbed whisper was heard, "[Y/N]?"

This is how I die.

Before the Mew could indulge in your flesh, you were shaken awake and jolted up from your bed in a cold sweat, heaving while desperately trying to catch your breath. You felt a warm hand on your forearm and looked over to see Ymir at your bedside, squatting to your level.

"Wh— wha—?" you struggled to collect your thoughts as you looked around the room. There were no Mews, Ymir was alive and you were on her bed, safe and sound, totally contrary to the vision you just encountered.

"You were breathing really heavy," Ymir mentioned. "I got worried after a while."

Ymir got worried?

"What time is it?" you asked her, still panting.

"Around two," she replied in a quiet voice. "Connie and Sasha are asleep. Jean and Marco are on their shift but they dozed off on each other's shoulders... I'm up anyway, so I let it slide."

To her side, her baseball bat lay on the floor. She was in her sleeping attire, which was basically just the muscle tee and her underwear — cargo pants were a little uncomfortable to sleep in, and it wasn't like you had heaps of clothing to change in and out of. You were still recuperating from the awful dream you endured and couldn't really come up with anything to talk about, so you just sat still, eyes on Ymir's scarred and leathery hand that she had yet to remove from your arm.

"Wanna talk about it?" she whispered.

You nodded in response. "Can you come closer?"

"Yeah," she muttered as she stood up and turned around to set her baseball bat up on the wall, before climbing into the bed and throwing the covers over her lower body. You shifted to lean on the wall to your left, and pulled your legs up to your chest. Ymir let out an exhausted sigh and brought her arms behind her head, getting comfortable.

"I think it was a nightmare," you began.

"About what?"

"Dying. There was a Mew, but I couldn't move, or talk, or... breathe. It felt hard to breathe,"

"Sounds like sleep paralysis," Ymir concluded. "Probably caused from lack of sleep. None of us have really had proper rest in god knows how long. Marco had an episode a couple of days before you got here."

From what you could recall from past Google searches, sleep paralysis was common in insomniacs, but you weren't known for having insomnia. If anything, you were a healthy sleeper — well, used to be. This was probably caused by the sudden rifts in your sleeping schedules. Going from ten to four hours of sleep a night was proving not to be easy, and your body wasn't going to cut you any slack.

Ymir clicked her tongue and sunk into the sheets, serene. She smiled and met her eyes with yours. "Don't worry though, I'd never let anything happen to you."