cel ⸝⸝ she/her ⸝⸝ twenty-two y.o graphic design major ⸝⸝ been writing amateurly for a couple years now, just for fun, so don’t expect anything spectacular ᵎ!ᵎ ⸝⸝ into all kinds of music, but recently i’ve been big into the kpop scene ᵎ!ᵎ ⸝⸝ always trying to improve my writing, because even though this is just a dumb little hobby, i still find a lot of comfort in creating stories ᵎ!ᵎ
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wc // 941 warnings // none
a/n: short . experimental . i don't really know what this is but i had an itch and needed to scratch it
the sand beneath you is soft, velvety against the back of your bare legs–cooled from the luminescent rays of moonlight that paint you in a pale sheen of pearlescent white. the grains pillow your head comfortably, falling to take a new form as your neck swivels to the side.
he's breathtaking.
big, blue eyes–glowing with a dangerously addictive energy–fixed on the deep blue sky, long, blond lashes fluttering as he blinks, slow and heavy. his fair skin seems to shine under the rays, smooth and certainly cool to the touch from the chilled, salty air that envelopes the two of you.
it's late. you're not sure exactly how late, but it certainly has passed midnight, with the moon making her slow descend toward the horizon as you watch him.
he doesn't look at you just yet, but you know he can feel your eyes on him. he always knew when your stare landed on him. you'd always joked that the mako had given him a sixth sense. he doesn't entirely doubt it.
you take a moment to stargaze once more. each speckle of white in the endlessly vast sky shimmers beautifully, the constellations remind you of the freckles spattered across his cheeks. you'd mentioned the sentiment once before. his face had flushed a warm rouge at your words.
the hand resting atop your stomach slowly slides down until it lays flat in the sand, fingers blindly crawling along the ground in search of something.
eventually, you bump your hand into his, partially buried beneath the tan grains. he doesn't flinch at the touch. doesn't even avert his gaze. he lets you caress his knuckles, lets you trace along the veins that bulge beneath his skin.
your fingers curl into the juncture where his thumb and index connect, the rough calluses gently scraping against your fingertips as you do so.
his thumb twitches then, brushing over your ring finger.
he lets you turn his hand over. allows you to delicately run a fingertip along the cardinal line of his palm, even when it starts to tingle just a bit.
you map out each shallow crevice and hardened bump, grazing along the inside of his wrist and up his forearm before sliding back down to repeat the action.
a quiet huff from him has you peering over.
he breaks the soft silence with as much eloquence as he can muster, “that tickled.”
a light chortle breathes out of his lungs, and you smile at him.
“sorry,” you mutter fondly, resting your fingers in the spaces between his own.
his fist encloses yours easily, offering one gentle squeeze.
the waves lap quietly at the shore, seafoam fizzling against the wet, thickened sand each time the water pulls back. the distant sound of the town's nightlife seemed to cease long ago, but maybe you're imagining it. it's hard to say when the only thing on your mind is him.
for another time, your eyes gravitate to him. running along the straight edge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the angle of his jaw. you swear he's perfect. he profusely denies that.
his hair, strikingly blond and so very soft, sways gently in the briny breeze. his chest rises slowly, falling just as gingerly. one leg rests crossed over the other, ankles hooked together.
you could stare at him for eternity, you think.
he drums his fingers against the back of your hand once, to pull you back to reality.
“you're supposed to be watching the stars, not me.”
his expression doesn't shift, but his tone is anything but serious.
you roll onto your side now, releasing your hold on his hand to rest your palm beneath your cheek. “you're much more interesting to look at.”
even in the darkness of the night, you can see the sudden flush of his face.
“stop saying things like that.”
you want to tease him. to tell him he's cute when he's flustered. but you also want to tell him that every time you look at him, you fall that much more in love with him. that every press of his skin against yours sends electricity crackling through your veins, no matter how many times he's touched you. that every moment spent with him is a reward thrust upon you by the universe.
but you're not quite sure how to say all of that. so you don't.
instead, you just gaze at him. reach out a hand to brush the side of his face, caressing his heated skin.
he looks at you now. looks at your eyes, then your lips, then your eyes again.
you lift yourself to rest your weight on an elbow in the sand.
you lean closer to him, dipping your head until your lips are ghosting over his. he's the one to seal the gap.
his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, long fingers bending to the curve of your neck as if they were made to hold you just like this. his lips slot perfectly with yours.
the kiss is unhurried. deep, heavy with emotion and confessions yet to breach the thick air, words that don't need to be spoken just yet.
you're the one to part from him, gulping a lungful of air as he stares at you. something swirls in his eyes, something other than mako.
“it's getting late. we should head back,” he sighs, but you notice that he doesn't make any effort to pull away from you.
you nod softly.
he plants one more longing kiss to your plush lips, like he can't help himself. you smile into it. you think he does too.
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𓂃 ࣪˖ my no's in writing include ...
amab/male!reader and gn!reader, real people, noncon, incest/stepcest, ageplay, underage/pedophilia, extreme violence such as self-harm, assault, or rape, waste/toiletplay, anal (in all regards), raceplay/racism .
𓂃 ࣪˖ active fandoms
⊹ ࣪ ˖ final fantasy vii
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closed . BUT, you are free to just shoot me a message if you're inclined !
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