ary's aot oneshots

[yumihisu, nsfw] want your heart, straight no chaser

a/n: come get y'all juice

title from intoxicated - the cab

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Ymir has always been bored. Be it with herself, her job, her home, anything, she's always seen the world as dull and wasteful. But sitting in her one-bed apartment with none other than Historia Reiss curled around her, lost in some sitcom, she's feeling much less apathetic.

Their relationship hasn't been the easiest, but they both seem to like it better that way. Turbulence kept things alive and thriving. Under it all, they knew they'd never leave one another.

Ymir's lived on her own for a few years now, legally she still does, but Historia basically counts as a roommate. She stays over more often than not, and she's even brought her own shower gel over to keep in stock.

Today has been simple. Historia showed up around six with some groceries, put together a quick dinner, and then settled with Ymir to waste the rest of the night. Ymir still has another day off before she has to go back to work, and she plans to throw it away tastefully.

Before she can get too comfortable, Historia's standing up, and there's a clear absence at Ymir's side. She watches her leave, looking betrayed as the shorter woman walks into the kitchen.

It's pretty warm inside, and Ymir dreads the day that it's officially summer, because this building isn't exactly known for top-notch air conditioning. Historia's evidently adjusted just fine, though, because she's walking around in nothing more than Ymir's button-up shirt and her underwear.

Regardless of how long ago she established this, Ymir's reminded that she belongs to the most beautiful woman in the world.

Even now Ymir feels underdressed, only wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, but she pins that on Historia's ability to make anything work for her.

Historia returns to the couch, holding a half-emptied pint of strawberry dark chocolate ice cream with a spoon stabbed into it. Ymir expects her to cuddle up to her side again.

She doesn't.

Instead, she plops herself down square in Ymir's lap, making herself comfortable on the reclined couch between her girlfriend's legs. She has her back to her, which is good because otherwise, she'd see the profuse blush that's just surfaced on her face.

Ymir is struggling. Officially.

"Make yourself at home," Ymir chokes out, visibly tense as she struggles to find a place for her hands. She's leaned back pretty far on the cushions, so Historia is right up against her, and it's throwing her for a loop.

"I will," Historia says simply, crossing one of her legs under Ymir's. Her attention seems to be fully back on the television.

Ymir doesn't quite understand the premise of whatever they're watching. There's something to do with a copious amount of shrimp, Ariana Grande, and a 'sexy giraffe,' whatever that meant. She's too focused on the warmth coiling up inside of her and settling in her chest to worry about the confusing inner workings of the sitcom industry.

Historia seems content, but Ymir's finally gotten comfortable enough to bug her, so she decides to do just that.

She leans forward just far enough to rest her head on Historia's shoulder and grins, slipping one arm around her waist and holding her close.

"What?" Historia smiles back, craning her neck to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

Ymir doesn't respond, she just smiles and stares.

Historia glances down and gets a spoonful of ice cream with impressive precision, holding it up to Ymir. She accepts it gladly. It's not quite what she expected from it, but it's not disappointing in the slightest.