Challenge #452: Warmth (Attack on Titan, Ymir/Historia)
Title: Fire
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan
Pairing: Historia/Ymir
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #452: warmth
Word count: 250
A/N: spoilers for a major character's identity
Summary: "You're a cold girl," Historia's mother had told her once. She spent a long time believing it.
"You're a cold girl," Historia's mother had told her once, with the careful enunciation of someone deep in the grip of drink. "Unearthly little thing. Like your father."
And then a wave of her hand, sharp dismissal and wine spilling over the rim of the glass, staining the carpet just a little, so that you wouldn't even notice if you didn't know it was there. There were a lot of things like that in this world. Historia had learned it was usually better to let them lie.
But she had wondered about it since, every so often, when there was nothing better to occupy her mind. And in winter, leaning against the barracks wall beside Ymir with snowflakes lighting in their hair, she had asked.
"Am I cold, do you think?"
Ymir looked at her strangely, then said with a desultory shrug, "I wouldn't know. Compared to me, everyone is."
It was true. Her skin was fever-hot, the kind of persistent elevated temperature that would worry doctors, except she never seemed to be anything less than stubbornly hale.
Historia looked up into grey clouds, saying, "you know that's not what I meant."
A more considered look, this time.
"I think you spend too much time trying not to be," Ymir said, reaching across the distance to brush her thumb over Historia's cheek - no gloves, just bare skin, insistent heat. "Who gives a shit? Got enough fire for both of us."
She smiled, and Historia shivered deep, imagining winter's end.
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan
Pairing: Historia/Ymir
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #452: warmth
Word count: 250
A/N: spoilers for a major character's identity
Summary: "You're a cold girl," Historia's mother had told her once. She spent a long time believing it.
"You're a cold girl," Historia's mother had told her once, with the careful enunciation of someone deep in the grip of drink. "Unearthly little thing. Like your father."
And then a wave of her hand, sharp dismissal and wine spilling over the rim of the glass, staining the carpet just a little, so that you wouldn't even notice if you didn't know it was there. There were a lot of things like that in this world. Historia had learned it was usually better to let them lie.
But she had wondered about it since, every so often, when there was nothing better to occupy her mind. And in winter, leaning against the barracks wall beside Ymir with snowflakes lighting in their hair, she had asked.
"Am I cold, do you think?"
Ymir looked at her strangely, then said with a desultory shrug, "I wouldn't know. Compared to me, everyone is."
It was true. Her skin was fever-hot, the kind of persistent elevated temperature that would worry doctors, except she never seemed to be anything less than stubbornly hale.
Historia looked up into grey clouds, saying, "you know that's not what I meant."
A more considered look, this time.
"I think you spend too much time trying not to be," Ymir said, reaching across the distance to brush her thumb over Historia's cheek - no gloves, just bare skin, insistent heat. "Who gives a shit? Got enough fire for both of us."
She smiled, and Historia shivered deep, imagining winter's end.