unwarmed

anonymous asked:

For the fluff requests can you do morning cuddles with Reinhardt or Zenyatta? My boys don't get enough love!! :(

Reinhardt

“Just five more minutes…”

Your whine was soft and muffled against Reinhardt’s chest, your legs curling up tightly as you pressed yourself even closer to the giant man. His snores were much quieter than one would expect from a man of his size, rumbling through you comfortingly, keeping you halfway between sleep and full wakefulness. The soft twinkling of the room’s ambient alarm prevented you from dozing off once more however, your nose scrunching up at the indignant system that wouldn’t allow you to rest. 

“Agent Y/N, you have snoozed your alarm twice", Athena’s soft lilting voice stated matter-of-factly. “If you would still like to make it to  training, I would advise waking up now.”

“It’s Saturday just reschedule”, you groaned, knowing now you weren’t going back to sleep but you definitely weren’t getting out of bed. 

“Understood”, Athena answered, your phone pinging softly with the apparent new time you would have the training room for. 

Snuggling closer to Reinhardt’s chest you realized that his snores had stopped, shifting closer to the man as his hands began to gently rub up and down your back. You resisted the urge to purr, just barely, sighing in utter contentment instead as his warmth poured over you. You swore this man was a furnace, his heat absolutely engulfing you as most of his body did. He laid on his side, curled almost protectively around you, your head nuzzled against his chest and underneath his chin, his massive arms resting against your waist. This is how the two of you slept most nights with, locked in his embrace, your arms rubbing up and down his arms until sleep overtook you. It was heaven. 

You hummed low in your throat as his hands climbed up from you back and gently into your hair, scratching at your scalp and sending warm shivers down your spine. Gingerly you pulled your hands away from your chest, lifting until one rested on either side of Reinhardt’s bearded face, nails lightly scratching his jawline. 

“Mmm good morning mein hase”, Reinhardt rumbled, twisting his head so he could kiss at your fingertips drawing a quiet giggle from you. 

“Guten morgen my big bear”, you murmured back, tilting your head up and kissing his bearded chin lightly. It had been a long while since the scratch had bothered you, the texture a welcome comfort against your lips. 

“Just five more minutes hmmm”,, he asked, his normally loud voice, low and rumbly with sleep, a soft laugh in his tone. 

“Hmm”, you tease back, chuckling quietly as he take a moment to nip at your fingers. “Well an opening seems to have popped up in my schedule so I think I have a…little bit more time.”

“Ahhh”, he said in mock sudden understanding. “Well mein hase, why don’t we spend a few more moments in bed before breakfast?”

“Sounds heavenly…”

Zenyatta

“Good morning my flower. Did you sleep well?”

A lazy smile stretched across your lips at the sound of Zenyatta’s harmonic voice, his hand slowly smoothing over your hair. Being an Omnic, Zenyatta didn’t need to sleep in the traditional sense; he would go into ‘sleep mode’ for a couple of hours at night before waking at sunrise to meditate. Still, he had taken to ‘sleeping’ in your room, petting your head and rubbing your back until you dozed off. In the morning, he would do the same, instead of a brash alarm clock, he’d gently stroke your face and hair until you were brought into the conscious would once more. Nuzzling into his touch, your eyes cracked open slowly, your smile only growing as your saw his faceplate. His head was slightly tilted , able to read the affectionate mannerism effortlessly. 

“I did”, you answered honestly, voice soft and quickly taken over by a yawn. “How was your morning meditation, dearest?”

“I found it quite pleasant”, Zenyatta stated warmly, fingers stilling on your head for a brief second. “Bastion and Ganymede joined Genji and I. I must say, it was a much livelier meditation session than what I am used to . But change can be quite refreshing, no?”

You chuckled softly, nodding in agreement before lightly taking his hand between both of yours and kissing it lightly. His chassis was warm, something that often surprised people the first time they touched him. Full body heating modules were needed when going to the Nepalese temple, the biting winters enough to stop the processors in unwarmed Omnics. He had once joked that coming with a personal heater was a benefit of dating him. You laughed and reminded him that it was just one of so many. 

“Mmm yes very refreshing”, you answered back as you gently tugged his hand so he was pulled further onto your bed, scooting back to make room for him. He chuckled softly, carefully pulling his legs up and crossing them.  Lifting yourself up halfway, you very carefully placed your head in his lap, head placed against his thigh, blinking away the sleep languidly. His hands instantly cupped either side of your face, thumbs stroking in slow downward circles and drawing a pleased hum out of you. “So…tell me about this meditation session?”

“Certainly my flower…”

And don’t we both press our palms to our stomachs
and have them come back cold?
And aren’t there slight echoes coming from our mouths?
Like hundreds of moths and their faint, familial flight?
Like taste of ghost and sound of all that’s lost?
And haven’t we both tried? And bent?
And learned to breathe through clenched teeth and iron jaw?
And don’t we taste the honey in the night
and let it become sour on our tongues?
And don’t we wake with a cloud of rot
hanging from the roofs of our mouths?
And don’t we kiss anyway?
Though it’s unfilling?
Though it’s unwarm?
And isn’t this enough? And isn’t this where the white-knuckled hurt ends?
And isn’t this where I begin again?
—  Voicemail #5 | Ramna Safeer
The Only Truth. (Luke Hemmings Imagine; Part One)

Pairing: Reader/Luke (Occasionally Reader/Calum)

Rating: 13+ (It’ll become more mature as the story progresses)

Words: 2132 words.

Subject: With Luke being shipped out with the army, Y/N is left behind to cope with the change.

Warning(s): Contains depression, anxiety and smut at times.

Author’s note: Hey everyone! This isn’t a request, just something I thought of and immediately wrote down. I have nothing else to say except that I really don’t know how the army system works so I just assumed what happens. Enjoy reading!

Part Two.

Part Three.

——–

Your heart constricted in your chest as yet another item of clothing got tossed into Luke’s duffel bag. He said he was packing low, but it seemed to you like half of his closet was gone. There were some things you couldn’t bear having gone.

Rubbing slow circles on both sides of your temple, you heard his sharp intake of breath, drawing you to flicker your glance at him. The smile lacking his face mirrored yours, and every vein and muscle in your being pulled and twisted and pushed you towards him. Launching yourself into his arms, you fit your limbs into his, your face nuzzling into his neck.

Without a second thought, his arms immediately slinked around your frame, pulling you even closer to him, wanting to mold your bodies into one to never ever leave you behind.

Your skin tingled as his lips chastely touched your skin. “I love you, Y/N.” His whisper cut through the silence of the room. “I promise you that forever is ours.”

Love is keeping the promise. You had to believe that the promise was going to be kept.

The air seemed to leach the warmth from your laced bodies as the sound of a car skidding to a stop resonated through your home, and you seemed to only lock your arms tighter around him. You croaked out a “no”, tears threatened to spill down your cheeks and twist your brave cooperation. Denial shook your body roughly as Luke tried to detach himself from you, his eyes glistened in red, hot tears.

“Stay. Please.” You hung on tightly to his sleeve.

“You know I have to go.” And you did, but that didn’t mean that letting him go was going to be any easier on any of you. No one knew how hard this was on you; letting your boyfriend go overseas for duty and not knowing if he would ever make it back alive or in a coffin. Hoping and praying for his safety were the only thing expected from you.

“I can’t bear to see you walk away, Luke.” You pleaded with him, watching as sadness dripped down his cheeks, soaking his black shirt.

“Then close your eyes, Y/N.” You stared up at him with wet orbs and his gaze caught yours, and for a moment, you were stuck in an interstellar harmony with him, where none of your fears and sadness mattered. Just you. Just him. Just love.

The blue in his eyes shone through you, straight into your soul, urging you to close your eyes. And you complied. You felt his lips touch your forehead, his lanky fingers slowly caress your cheek and that was all. Your senses went numb as your skin tingled.

You didn’t hear him pick up his duffel bag.

You didn’t hear him slowly pad away from you.

You didn’t hear his sharp intake of breath as he gazed at you one last time, committing you to memory.

You didn’t hear anything.

But you did feel. You felt the blood rushing through your system, your heart pumping all of his hurt, almost crippling you. But above all, you could feel the smooth baritone his heart was chanting victoriously.

Love.

Love.

Love.

Your heart chanted his name in return. But it wasn’t exultant. Your heart shriveled and cracked around his name.

Luke.

Luke.

Luke.

It was the most destitute, irreparable sound ever. Slowly, it started fading away and you threw yourself down on his side of his bed, gripping and clutching and pulling on his pillow, your nose sniffing his scent out of the room. Your eyes still closed, you fell asleep with his pillow cradled to your chest.

The guys were over, just like every night since he’s been gone. Luke leaving didn’t just affect you, it affected his best friends too. Every night, Ashton, Calum and Michael came over, carrying bagfuls of sweets and beer. And because of the severity of the situation, every night you pulled the chairs from the kitchen and every blanket from the closet and grabbed pillows, sheets and stuffed penguins and giraffes to your living room. You four hid from the world in your own little existence, built from imagination and desperation.

You made a big fort, sturdy and lit up by little Christmas lights Luke had bought for your first anniversary date. They loosely hung around chair legs, underneath the blankets and tangled around your legs.

You took turns reading from your favorite books and Michael’s comics, and explaining to Ashton that tadpoles weren’t baby turtles. Calum’s head was leaned against your shoulder, and every now and then, you glanced down at him and flashed him a small smile. Your eyes caught his brown hues; they were painfully dry whilst yours were bloodshot red. Every night, when you were sure that they were sound asleep, you’d slip away and cross your way to Luke’s closet, gripping his shirts while your tears released.

And now as you thought of them, you felt them already building up behind your eyes, pushed up against your chest. Even your heart was wrapped in tears, floating in heartache. Your sadness was under your skin, right between your toes and in your hair. And every time you thought of him, your despair – vengeful, relentless and mocking – laughed in your face.

“He’s not coming back.” It said, before clenching too tightly around your heart, almost knocking you over. You knew it all along. You knew he’d leave you, but under different circumstances.

But then your gaze darted around the fort, landing on each and every guy. They were grieving, and they were clingy in their grief, and small, and unsure. You loved them here though, they were the distractions your drifting heart needed. Nothing was yours while they were around and you loved it. They slept around you when you did, they camped outside of the bathroom whenever you washed or showered. You were all helpless and you couldn’t make him come back.

As per usual, you slipped away from the small group, and instead of heading towards your usual destination, you swerved and walked into the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Calum asked you, evidently following after you.

“Yeah, I just need to pee.” You reassured him, avoiding his intense gaze. Shutting the door in his face, you turned the water on and splashed some on your face. “I just need five minutes, Cal.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror with your hands on the sink and your face up close. You couldn’t breathe. Your lungs compressed and your teeth clenched. Your fingertips tingled and your skin crawled. You might have groaned too.

Calum knocked on the door softly. “You still haven’t peed, Y/N.”

“I’m almost done, Calum. Just wait.” You said, using every bit of effort you had to keep yourself standing straight. You were hurting, melting, burning, sinking, dying. Your knees buckled and hit the cabinet; you started to slide but held yourself up. The clatter had Calum bursting through the door and taking one glance at your disheveled self. He picked you up and hurried with you into your room – and Luke’s too.

The bed was unmade as he set you down on it, climbing in next to you. You didn’t have the power to object, you only gazed into his eyes. There was some kind of heartbreak in them. It was deep. It was years built up. It was rifting.

At the time, you thought it was because of Luke. While you said goodbye to your boyfriend, he said goodbye to a brother. He wasn’t mad, he was destroyed. He was cracked and dispirited. He was genuinely worried and honestly upset. He was wounded and suffering. Stripped. Gone was his imagine – the tough, sassy and foul mouthed guy wasn’t here. It was just Calum. Sharing your sadness. Or so you thought.

You guys talked for an hour. For sixty minutes, you two were being your normal selves. For three thousand and six hundred seconds, you didn’t feel the gaping hole in your chest. Everything wasn’t so raw. You didn’t think of Luke as much.

But after twenty other minutes, the feeling of comfort twisted back into apprehension. The hollow point in your body throbbed again, and Calum stopped smiling. His teeth weren’t showing, his cheeks weren’t red.

“What do you think it’s like for him? You whispered.

“I hardly think it’s comfy mattresses and tasty food.” His voice was low. His attempt at a joke wasn’t funny.

“He’s looking out for you, Y/N.” He swallowed. “He’s training. He’s fighting… He’s trying to make the world a better place.”

The words burned straight through you. You’ve spent days tiptoeing around the truth. No one has come out and said it.

But the truth didn’t make you feel any better. Your mind wouldn’t shut off: what’s he doing? Where is he now? Why hasn’t he called? When is he coming back?

You worried over and over again until your stomach tumbled and stirred, until you clutched your chest with all ten fingers and screamed internally, you scratched into your skin, wanting to tear bones and veins and arteries which were between you and what hurt the most. Your heart beat his name, his touch, his smell.

You sat up, a hand flying to your forehead. You were sweating, your body too warm. You gasped – breathed in. In and out. In and out. Repeat. Your face tingled and your jaw hurt. You stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. Calum didn’t wake up. He dosed himself to sleep, too tired after not crying. Your sticky feet clung to unwarmed tile, making a soft suction sound with every step.

Leaning against the counter, you reminded yourself to breathe. Easy. Steady. Normal.

But then your phone rang, vibrating loudly against the table. You didn’t know if your heart or feet reacted faster, making you rush towards the phone.

Luke.

Decline or Answer.

Before you made a decision, your phone stopped, only to ring back up again.

Luke.

Decline or Answer.

“Luke,” you whispered into the receiver.

“Baby girl,” his voice was gruff and it held familiarity. Like nothing has ever changed. You unlocked the backdoor and walked out into the faint moonlight. Seating yourself down on the swing set there, you allowed your eyes to drip freely.

“I miss you, Luke. Where are you? Safe, I hope.” You whispered, heartsick and moved.

“Princess, I’m in training camp. I’ll be shipped out in two days. And I’m as safe as I can be.” He said gently. His words were accent thick and drawn out. Wherever he was, clattering noises and grunts drowned out the sound of his tranquil breathing.

“I love you. Come back safe to me.” You held a hand over your mouth to keep your cries soundless.

“I will. Just stay mine. You’re mine, right baby girl? You’ll always be mine.” His voice was fifty shades of panicked, as if the distance might wrench your heart away from his grip.

“Forever, Luke.” You answered. “I’m where you belong. Come home soon.” You were selfish, but selflessness wasn’t one of your traits. You would rather have him locked up and safe next to you, rather than out there where God couldn’t even reach, and in danger.

You weren’t crying anymore. You were more desperate than that. You were crushed, suffocating under the pressure of your position. Every part of you suffered in his absence. You weren’t a person without him here.

“Right now would be perfect.”

“Yeah?” He was half amused, half tearing and tugging at his hair. “Just like that? No heartfelt emotion, no speech?”

“I just want you back home, Luke. I can’t think of anything else.”

“You know I really didn’t have a choice, love.” And he didn’t. It was expected of him. Just like Ben and Jack went overseas. A twisted family tradition.

If he were here, he’d be standing tall over you, his teeth grinded, his hands fisted while eyes widened. He would be so fucking beautiful, and you would be airless.

But he wasn’t. And you were alone.

Tears started up again. Crying was painful. Exhausting. It was taking everything you had left.

He was quiet, listening to you cry too hard, breathe too hard, love too much.

“Calm down,” he said. You tried, but you couldn’t. You were pouring, draining, depleting.

“Baby,” concern shone through the line. “Y/N, listen to me.”

“I can’t!” So stupid. You were so stupid, wasting valuable minutes with him. He spoke some more but you didn’t hear anything over the sound of your own panic.

“Tell me a secret, baby. Come on. Anything.” He was soothing, focused on making you feel better.

So you said the only truth you knew. “I’m so scared.”

———————–

So, I’m halfway through writing part two but I don’t know when I’m posting it since I’m drowning with school work and exams but I’ll get to it soon! Hope you enjoyed this. If you have any ideas or requests, share them with me here. Love you all! <3

-Line.

unwarm muscles in a car
where the rain makes veins
on the windows.

memory and desire coincide
with tongues and teeth.

there is a springtime
buried in the winter.

i want to be
buried in your
sock drawer.