Written for a request on my sneezehq tumblr that wanted to see an AoT AU with Ymir as a street fighter and Historia patching her up. Enjoy!

It's pitch dark outside by the time Ymir turns onto their street. She winces at the time; Historia is definitely worried by now. It's late, though, maybe she's in bed?

As if you'd be that lucky, she thinks to herself. And sure enough, she can see that the living room lights are still on. Leaning heavily on her right foot, she unlocks the door as quietly as possible. Sighing heavily, Ymir steels herself and walks through the door, ducking her head so that her bangs hide her black eye. She can't really do much about all the scrapes, cuts, and bruises though-plus it's pretty obvious to anyone who knows her that she's limping a little.

"Ymir!" Sure enough, Historia is practically on top of her as soon as she walks in. She gasps loudly; Ymir must be quite the sight. "What happened to you? You're covered in bruises."

There's a moment of silence while they make eye contact, and then Historia's shoulders slump a little and she sighs through her nose in disapproval. "You went there again, didn't you." It's not a question. "Go have a seat in the bathroom so I can clean you up."

Ymir makes her way slowly to the bathroom, doing her best to avoid putting weight on her injured ankle. She plops down on the closed toilet lid, waiting for Historia to finish grabbing some ice packs and the first aid kit from the kitchen.

She falls into a slight doze while sitting there, and startles awake at a cold touch on her cheek. "Keep this on your eye for a bit," Historia instructs her. Of course she noticed. Why does Ymir even try?

"This is going to sting a little," Historia says apologetically, a concerned frown on her face as she dabs at the scrapes and cuts on Ymir's face with antiseptic. The sting of the alcohol doesn't hurt nearly as much as the look on Historia's face; Ymir hates this, she hates making her girlfriend worry and then coming home and having to be cleaned up, but what else can she do? They need the money.

Most of the cuts on her face are small and Historia is efficient but gentle, the softness of her touch contrasting with the burning of the disinfectant. "Shirt off," Historia commands when she finishes with her ministrations, moving onto Ymir's chest. There's a lewd comment on the tip of Ymir's tongue, but the look on Historia's face shuts her up.

"Your ribs look like they hurt a lot, are you sure that they're not broken?" Historia asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Just bruised," Ymir reassures her wearily. Historia uses some tape to hold an ice pack in place over the afflicted area. "You'd make a good nurse," she comments idly as Historia finishes patching her up.

"I've been thinking about volunteering as a paramedic. You've certainly given me enough practice."

Ymir feels a pang of guilt at that. Historia distracts her by moving onto her legs. She takes off her pants and allows Historia to inspect the damage. Fortunately, aside from some bruises and her left ankle, her legs were mercifully spared this time.

"You're sure that it's just a sprain?" Historia asks, gently prodding at Ymir's swollen ankle. Ymir nods, exhausted. Historia stands up and sets the kit on the counter, then helps Ymir to her feet and over to the bed. Despite being almost a foot taller than her, Ymir is always amazed at her girlfriend's strength.

Once she's settled into bed, Historia tosses Ymir an oversized t-shirt to put on and props her ankle up on a pillow with yet another ice pack. She then quickly gets ready for bed herself before climbing in next to her.

It's quiet for a long moment before Historia breaks the silence. "I wish you wouldn't do this."

A wave of guilt and shame passes over Ymir. She squeezes her eyes shut against it. "I have to," she says sadly.

A pause, and then. "You could come work at the bakery with me."

Ymir's eyes shoot open again, and she raises a skeptical brow at Historia. "They wouldn't want me there."

"I'd talk them into it," she insists. She has a point; Historia can convince people to do almost anything.

"I wouldn't be very good at customer service," Ymir points out.

"I could teach you," Historia says hopefully. "I bet you'd be great."

Ymir contemplates it for a moment. It's got to be better than getting beaten up all the time, and at least she'd get to see her girlfriend all the time. "I'll give it a shot," she declares, letting her eyes fall closed and nestling back against the pillow.

She expects a squeal of delight but instead all she gets is a quiet "Thank you," before Historia curls up next to her, head nestled on her shoulder.

Ymir may be battered and bruised, but she definitely has the best girlfriend in the world. Historia always believes in her.

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