A/N: Inspired by this post on tumblr:

post/75445174060

Historia smiled to herself as she heard the soft strains of a guitar coming from the next room. She loved hearing Ymir practicing, writing songs, singing, anything with music, really. The music that drifted into the kitchen sounded new. It was soft, sweet, and happy. When she was very quiet and listened hard, she would occasionally hear Ymir's gentle humming. After listening for a good few minutes, she sighed contentedly and returned to making dinner.

Her cooking was interrupted, however, when she heard Ymir calling her. "Historia? Can you come here for a sec? I want you to hear this."

"Coming, Ymir," she responded, setting down her spatula and briskly walking into the living room. She sat down on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. "Well, what did you want me to hear?"

Ymir grinned at her wife, picked up her guitar again, and strummed a gentle melody.
"My love, my angel, my morning sky
You can't spell 'yuri' without U and I
My gaydar went wild, when our eyes met
My hands were shaking and covered in sweat
We're giant lesbians, me and you
And and you cant spell 'yuri' without I and U"

She stopped strumming and turned back to Historia, still grinning that ridiculous smile that made Historia want to either wipe it off her face or kiss her until she stopped. Historia was silent for a minute before breaking out into howls of laughter.

"Ymir! Aha- You- You seriously wrote that?! Oh my god! This- Ahaha- This is the most ridiculous song I've ever heard!" She covered her mouth with her hand as another bout of hysterics came over her and she laid back on the couch, shoulders bouncing up and down as a completely silent laugh sent tears running down her cheeks.

Ymir's smile widened and she gently set her instrument on the floor, leaning over Historia and singing the lyrics as loudly as she could. They laid on the couch laughing for a while until the piercing shriek of a smoke detector alerted them to the burning food.

(They ate it anyway.)

(It was terrible.)


A/N: Haha sorry I can't write songs.

Oh, and Ymir, don't sing about your sweaty hands.