
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1066795.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss_&_Ymir
  Character:
      Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss, Ymir_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Ymir
  Additional Tags:
      AU, alternative_universe, High_School, Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-02 Words: 1543
****** After Fencing ******
by FriendsCallMeTonks
Summary
     Ymir is a star athlete and she's losing her cool. Christa helps.
Notes
     I was going to submit this to imagineyumikuri (dot) tumblr (dot) com
     (which is excellent, btw), but it just got longer and longer and
     longer... Anyway, it's a one-shot, unedited, for the helluvit fanfic.
     Enjoy!
Imagine Ymir and Christa are in a modern day high school. Ymir is on the
school's fencing team and honestly she's probably the best on the team. And
she's a total pill not letting anyone forget it. Christa is Ymir's best friend
(although why she would choose to hang out with a punk like Ymir is anyone's
guess).
A big fencing tournament is coming up, and Ymir is beginning to freak out some.
While school work never fazes her, Christa watches Ymir spiral out of control,
practicing ridiculous hours--even by her coach's standards-- and forgetting to
eat and losing sleep etc. At first she tries to gently suggest to Ymir that her
growing obsession might hurt her performance at the tournament, but finally
Christa can't take it anymore.
After school at practice, a week before the tournament, Christa shows up and
informs Ymir that she's going home. Right now. When Ymir protests, Christa
freakin' headbutts her. The coach, seeing how desperately his star pupil need
sleep, jumps in to help Christa shove her out the door. Christa drives Ymir
home, and when they arrive, she takes out a large duffel bag of her own. "What
the hell are you doing, squirt?" Ymir asks.
"I talked to your parents. I'm staying here until the tournament to make you
eat your damn food and get some fucking sleep," Christa replies. Ymir's
shocked--and not only by the vocabulary the normally demure blonde avoids.
She's not going to lie to herself--Ymir is very happy to have Christa around--
but...
"Uh... but where are you...?"
"In your bed next to you, where I can make sure you aren't reviewing fencing
crap," Christa replies matter-of-factly. Ymir's face turns bright red, and is
grateful the sun has already set so Christa can't see it. As they walk inside,
she tries to regain her composure. They've had sleepovers before, of course,
but lately Ymir's been having... feelings... about Christa that she's not
entirely sure would be welcomed by her truest friend.
"Uh..." she mumbles. "Okay."
And that's exactly what happens. Christa forces Ymir to keep a healthy schedule
for the whole week, and Ymir somehow manages to sleep despite feeling
incredibly awkward and tempted in her own bed. By the night of the tournament,
Ymir performs spectacularly.
After the concluding ceremony, as families and friends mass around the
contestants, Ymir finds Christa in the crowd. "Christa!" she shouts, showing
off her bouquet and medal. "Christa, I'm going to nationals!"
Christa runs up to her friend, beaming up at the sight of such joy on the
usually morose face. Her freckles are just too cute! "I'm so proud of you,
Ymir! You were amazing! You totally deserve it!" As she runs up to the olive-
skinned teen, Ymir wraps her arms around her waist, lifts her and spins.
"Christa, thank you so much!" Ymir laughs. "I'm so happy I could kiss you!"
Christa gasps, because just as she said, Ymir plants her lips on Christa's. She
continues to laugh ecstatically and twirls a bit more before putting her friend
down on the ground again. Then it hits Ymir what she's just done, and her face
drops.
"Holy shit, C-Christa, I didn't mean to do that! I was just really, uh,
excited, um..." Ymir stammers, blood rushing to her face. Her tongue feels
suddenly thick and clammy.
Christa stands there, blinking stupidly up at her for a second. But just as
soon as that one second passes, she locks eyes with Ymir. "Me. You.
Outside. Now."
Oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit, Ymir thinks. She had been feeling so
ecstatic, victorious even, after winning the tournament. She thought maybe she
could have even asked Christa out after all of this. Now she's gone and fucked
it all up! Helplessly, her bouquet, medal, and uniform in hand and her sword's
case slung over her shoulder, Ymir follows Christa's bobbing yellow head
through the crowd toward the exit.
Imagine Ymir's surprise when she walks out the doors to the parking lot and
suddenly a tiny human has pressed her back against the brick wall of the
building, blonde hair surrounding Ymir's face as lips urgently pull at her own.
In her shock, Ymir drops everything, lifts her arms to support Christa, kisses
back fervently even as her mind races to catch up with what the crap is going
on. Ymir whimpers as Christa slowly, trustingly, lifts her legs from the ground
and wrap them around Ymir's waist. Hands cup the sides of Ymir's face, nails
gently tugging at her skin, and when there's a pause, Ymir opens her eyes to
see smokey blue ones gazing at her.
Holy fucking shit, what baby did I save to get this helluva day? Ymir wonders.
That's about the time her brain catches up. "Christa?" Ymir asks, even as the
blond in her arms plants pecks to her hot skin. "Is this--What are you--Hey
blondie, I'm trying to ask you a question, dammit!"
"No time," Christa mutters, her voice husky, making Ymir tremble.
"Car?" Ymir offers.
"Mmm," Christa replies with a quick nod before she presses herself to Ymir's
lips again. Quite content, Ymir starts walking out into the parking log,
oblivious to much of the world around her. "Wait, your things!" Christa says.
"Aaahhrgh!" Ymir groans. She roughly places Christa down on her feet, runs back
to grab her belongings from beside the building, and races back through the
parking lot with Christa trotting just behind her. With a fervor she knows she
might regret if she later discovers damage, Ymir throws her things into the
passenger seat of her car and starts the heat on full force. When she extracts
herself from the front, she discovers Christa has already lowered the back
seats of the hatchback and is sitting there waiting for her. She notes
distantly that the windows are fogging up even quicker than she hoped. Ymir
locks the doors behind her.
As Christa's tongue parries her own, as deft hands embrace Ymir, seemingly
everywhere at once, the tall teenager becomes intoxicated. Only after an
unknowable amount of time, discovering herself on her knees and elbows above
her friend, does Ymir manage to remember something very important.
"You sure about this?" Ymir asks urgently.
"Hell yes I am; are you?" Christa replies. Ymir gives a curt nod, barely able
to keep eye contact under that blue stare. She kisses her 'friend' again,
coaxing her onto her back. Although Ymir's hands have wandered freely up to
this point, she consciously directs them now, deliberate in her motions. Much
to her satisfaction, Christa gasps as one hand wraps round her breast, rubbing
her t-shirt fabric just above her nipple, just as she firmly grasps Christa's
ass.
She massages at both, enjoying Christa's attempts to return such a favorable
touch, until she can work her hands under both the t-shirt and skirt. Suddenly,
Christa sits up.
"You," she says, "You should take something off, too." Wasting no time, Christa
works at Ymir's clothes, determined to get her undressed before Ymir can do the
same. They laugh at their racing, moan at the sight at touch of each other's
skin. Before Ymir can continue her work, however, Christa's mouth sucks at an
exposed nipple.
"Fuck!" Ymir gasps, reflexively grabbing a fistful of Christa's hair. In
response, Christa whimpers. Ymir can't help but shiver again.
Before she's fully aware of how she's done it or how, Ymir finds herself
sitting (at an angle, given the car's size) with Christa straddling her, her
lips hopping back and forth between freckled breasts. Occasionally now,
however, Christa must stop to make an exclamation herself, because--again,
somehow--Ymir's fingers gently tug and flick and rub against the base of
Christa's thighs. For blissful ages, they taunt each other like this, touching
each other's sensitive spots just barely not enough. Finally Christa growls up
at Ymir, "I swear, Ymir, if you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to-- aanh!"
Christa does not finish her sentence. Two of Ymir's fingers, already soaking
wet, push into Christa, gently (at least until Christa's grinding against her
hand makes it perfectly clear to Ymir that it would appropriate to fuck hard).
She keeps her thumb pressed against the bud of Christa's clit, smiling
devilishly at how she can feels Christa's whole body respond to every little
touch. For her part, Christa does try to keep up, but before much longer, all
efforts become fruitless. Ymir coaxes her on, kissing Christa's neck and
collarbone even as the girl spasms around her fingers, whimpering Ymir's name
through the climax. She collapses against Ymir, huffing happily and twitching
through the aftereffects of her high.
"So," Ymir breathes through a grin. She swipes some of her hair out of her
face. "Car sex."
"You have no idea," Christa replies slowly, her voice coated with sweet
adoration, "how badly I've been wanting you all week... well, longer than a
week, but..."
"Actually," Ymir says with a chuckle, "I think I have a bit of an idea. One
hell of a victory present!"
"Oh we haven't even gotten that far yet," Christa replies, her lips moving
against Ymir's neck, her hands wandering bravely across the freckled body once
again.
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