Toasty’s grip on your shoulders tightens, hugging the air out of your lungs. His fingertips dig into your skin, indenting a mark onto you. His face rests on your collarbones, burying himself beneath your bones.
They feel your hands in their hair, undoing the braid you had put in earlier in the morning and gently scratching his scalp, combing through the waves the braid had left. They let out a sigh and squeeze your waist.
A meek voice claws its way through, the vibrations from his mouth sending shockwaves through your neck. “Do you have to leave?”
Soft laughter escapes the bine of your throat, pressing a kiss to his ear. “I can’t just stay here, darling. I have to go home eventually,” your hand cups his cheek and lifts it away from your neck, swiping your thumb over his cheekbones. “I’ll be back soon. Maybe. Hopefully.”
You fix their glasses and caress their hair, messy from being attached to you for so long. They looked gorgeous even when they were a mess. A domestic smile creeps out from your teeth.
And it feels like he yearns for you. He wants more of you even when you’re in front of him, when you’re still in his arms and you don’t have to leave at this very moment. He wants your dreary mondays and your secrets. He wants everything. He wants nothing. He just wants you.
You start to pull away from their embrace, but a tug on your hand stops you. “Don’t go.”
“What? Toasty, you know I can’t just–”
“–But that’s the thing, you can. We can- I can make room at my place. You don’t have to leave.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached up to brush hair away from your face, his eyes swirling with desperation. “Please?”
A chuckle comes from the depths of your heart, a sorrowful smile stitching across your mouth. “I still have a job. And clothes back home. And literally, like, everything I own.”
They shrug, traveling their hand upwards to grab your forearm. “I can ship everything here. And who says you have to send in your two weeks? Just, disappear off of the Earth with me.”
Your laughter grew louder, an honest sounding melody fluttering from your chest. You look back at the plane you have to board, and suddenly the butterflies in your stomach turned to moths. You rub your thumb over Toasty’s cheek again, a bittersweet taste coating your tongue. “Darl, I have to go home. I’ll be back soon, I swear it.”
His fingertips dance further up your body and hold your cheeks, an unreadable expression on his face. “You swear it?”
“I swear it,” you repeat as you kiss his palms softly, pulling further and further away from him as you grab your bags. “This isn’t a goodbye. I’ll see you soon, my love. I’ll call you and bug you about the potential baby that is on the plane and complain about it for hours.”
“Oh, but of course,” They roll their eyes affectionately and lean towards you again, pressing a kiss on your temple. They whisper against your skin, “I’ll see you soon.”
Toasty doesn’t like this part. He doesn’t like watching you go. He doesn’t like the pit in his stomach, or how his eyes are watering, or how he doesn’t get to hold you anymore, or how he finally understand that this; this is what solitude is.
All’s well that ends well, they suppose. It’ll be alright. They’ll convince you to stay with them one of these days.
It’s alright that his passenger seat is too empty for comfort, it’ll be okay. He’s okay with waiting for you a little longer.
There's something about you that draws Nightowl in. You've only known each other for a few months, maybe half a year maximum, but he almost feels like he's known you before.
No, he knows it. Maybe in another life, with him being a prince and you being a knight, but he can tell. With every slip of the tongue- accidentally saying that he's known you forever, if forever can apply to six months.
He's staring at your icon on his screen, huffing out in annoyance when he can't bring himself to call you. You asked him to, and yet he feels nervous. Scared even.
A part of him thinks it's first date jitters. A louder part of him says that's not true because you've called one-on-one before, but you're also his best friend. Best friends don't go on dates. Right?
His stomach almost begins to hurt at that realization.
He brushes it off as him being up for so long and eating so little, of course his stomach will be a little upset. That's all it is. He bares a grin as his monitor rings. Once, twice, then he's greeted by your face. "Hellooooo cutie."
"Hi Owl," you hummed and Nightowl found himself almost melting at the sound of your voice, sleepy from the difference in timezones. "Okay, I wanted to call you because I have something so important to tell you. So serious. You're going to shit yourself."
You lean closer to your camera, and as if you were actually in front of him, he leans closer to you as well. His eyes crinkle slightly and you don't get why he's so happy just looking at your sleep tousled figure.
(It's as domestic as the two of you can get, for now.)
"So, I bought you something. Lego flowers. Roses."
"Why roses?" He laughs the slightest bit, trying and failing to keep the fondness out of his eyes. "Because they're so romantic and you're so in love with me?"
"Because they're your favorite." You roll your eyes the slightest bit, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh," Nightowl whispers, his eyes having the slightest sparkle to them, sparking up your mundane and dark night. "You remembered."
"Of course I did. You're my," A beat, shuffling from the other side of the monitor, then; "Best friend."
Right.
Nightowl can't lie, the thought of just being a best friend to you is almost disappointing, but at least the feelings mutual. You're his best friend and he's yours. In more ways than one.
A part of him thinks he's always been yours.
He beams at you and you let out a soft laugh. resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. "You're acting like a dog, tail wagging and shit, all because of some Legos?"
"Trust me, if I were your dog you would be covered in slobber by now." You laugh at him and you don't- you refuse to- pay attention to how he changes your words ever so slightly, a part of you likes it.
You're his. In more ways than one.
You sigh at the thought, knowing that thinking of your best friend like that is so weird. Friends don't act like this, they aren't so possessive and constantly yearning, ruining sleep schedules just to hear his voice at the break of dawn.
hi guys! it's been a while, i'm sorry for being inactive for so long.
i wanted to give everybody a bit of an update on the future of this blog. to get this out of the way, i've completely distanced myself from dating simulators, our life and blooming panic alike and have since picked up a new fandom that i've fallen in love with that i'm writing for now (nothing new there LOL). there's a chance i'd write for it still but it'd either be a) a request or b) a once-in-a-while kind of thing.
i really wanna thank everybody for their continuous support on here. i hope you guys know that i read every reblog and smile at every notification that i continue to get on here. you're all so kind and i hope to see you soon. <3
Quest mindlessly hums as he's supposed to be teaching you how to play guitar. He has you placed in between his legs, snuggled up nicely to his chest. You can feel his thighs rubbing against your hips, and you almost think you're dreaming.
His guitar strap is wrapped around your neck and his arms are over yours, mocking the movements yours are making. You can see his hands so clearly, so vividly. They're almost like a painting, his tattoo, bones, and veins sticking out perfectly, like a picture perfect memory.
He keeps whispering in your ear. Try this cord. You're doing so well. Now, place your index finger on this one. A little flatter. Bend your fingers more. Stay focused, angel. But how can you focus?
How can you focus when you can feel his lips against your ear? How can you focus when you can still feel his piercing gaze, burning through your skin? How can you focus when his chuckle is so light and airy, like something you would hear in your darkest fantasies? How can you focus when his body around you tightens, and brings you closer?
How can you focus with him around?
You feel the vibrations from his chest against his back, and you’re trying so desperately to block out all noise other than his instructions. You're trying not to listen to his husky whispers and his chuckles that make your heart flutter.
Quest’s rough pads of his thumb and index finger find their way to your chin, eyes looking down upon you with mischievous and teasing eyes. “My, we’re getting quite distracted there, aren't we?”
“Not- not at all, Quest. I’m focused. just like you asked me to.” You cleared your throat and forced your hesitant fingers to focus back on the cords you were playing, remembering his previous instructions.
“So obedient,” He chuckles once more, a deep noise resounding from the depths of his chest, eyes swirling with danger and scrunched up like he’s having the time of his life.
(He probably is.)
“You seem rather nervous though.” His grip on you tightens and faux sympathy on his face completely disappeared, replaced with a cruel smirk. His thumb rubs on the corner of your bottom lip and he leans in closer, teasing you. "Do I make you nervous, angel?”
Your breath stopped completely, and your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear you. Your eyes tore away from his sight and paid close attention to his lips, slightly dry and still pulled into a grin that only the devil would wear.
“You’re awfully desperate today, aren’t you?” His warm breath fans over your lips, spearmint and strawberries being your only source of air at the moment. He outright laughs at the way you shrink away from him and bite your cheek in embarrassment.
His hand lets go of you chin, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you closer. “That’s alright, though. You look absolutely stunning like this, wrapped around my finger.”
You and Cove sit a distance away from each other, your index fingers the only heat the two of you shared in the autumn. The ocean air seemed to whisper and flitter about, sending chills up your spine even through Cove's sweatshirt.
His eyes linger on your hands, intertwined, scared as if they were made to leave him. But as he steals another finger or two of yours to hold, it seems like all of his thoughts just disappears. The only thought that is present in the moment is how your hand fits against his so perfectly.
He goes from a finger, to two, to three, to your entire hand. He swipes his thumb up and down the back of your hand before he pulls you closer to him by your waist.
He slips a hand underneath your (his, technically) sweatshirt and just palms your bare skin, relaxing almost immediately when he feels your warm skin on his. He buries his face into your neck and just sighs. He breathes you in and breathes you out.
"Hi, handsome," you play with his hair a bit before laying down on the sand. He smiles against your skin and presses a bit more of his weight on you. "You know, we might get sand in our hair."
Cove hums. "I don't mind."
"Our bed would be nicer."
"I don't mind," he repeats. You laugh a bit and he presses his cheek against your neck, feeling the vibrations of your laughter echo throughout his body. He sighs again. "You're soft enough."
You don't argue with him anymore. It's late, you're both sleepy, and you're close enough to your house. You'll be fine.
You look for constellations but with you being so close to Cove and being able to listen to his breathing so clearly, it makes your heart pound and you can't focus. You've lost the big dipper around four times.
You try and find the moon but it's obscured by a bunch of clouds and it's getting harder to keep your eyes open. Cove is just so warm and you're so comfortable and it wouldn't hurt to close your eyes for a minute or two.
You lean a bit more into his touch and he wraps his arm further around your waist. His hair smells different, you want to ask him about it in the morning.
But for now, all you ask is, "Could we like this for a bit longer?"
Everything in the kitchen was messier than anything you've ever seen before.
The counters were covered in something white and powdery, you couldn't tell what it was anymore. It was going to be hell to clean up. The only thing that was untouched by the tornado of flour and powdered sugar was Quest's glasses, sat delicately on top of the microwave.
You sighed and looked over to Quest, relishing in delight with a stupid smile in his pink frilly apron. "Dear?"
His grin grows from ear to ear, awaiting your next instruction like a dog.
Your smile matches his and you reach over to pour some more chocolate chips in your hand. "Could you please get me," you pause and look over to your recipe. "half a teaspoon of baking soda?"
"If you stop eating chocolate chips by the handful, then sure." You roll your eyes and continue to mix your wet ingredients together, occasionally flinging some of the mixture onto you and the counters. You pay little to no mind to it when Quest comes over with your dry ingredients, and you look up at him with a tight smile. He leans forward a bit to try and see what you were so focused on. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing. This is just a tablespoon. And also baking powder. But it's fine, what's the worst that can happen?"
Quest gives you a weird look and retracts his head a bit. "You can tell the difference between baking soda and baking powder?"
"You can't tell the difference between a tablespoon and a teaspoon?"
He throws his hand up like a sassy child and squints at you, something you do right back to him. "In my defense, I'm not wearing glasses."
"And what's in your defense for wearing a pink apron?"
He twirls around a bit and laughs as he picks up the frills and lifts it, bowing down a bit. "I'm a pretty princess. C'mon, I'm sure you'd agree."
You laugh and shake your head. "God, you're a dork." You go to scoop two cups of flour out of the bag when you feel him wrap his arms around you and begin kissing up, from your shoulder blades to your neck and coming around to your collarbones. You attempt to shrug him off but you're the man and he's the leech. "Hey, princess, not now. I'm doing super serious business."
You feel his kisses falter a bit as airy chuckle come out of him. He looks up at you for a brief moment before asking, "Making cookies is super serious business?"
"I don't think I stuttered."
Quest seems taken aback by your responses, but is still laughing up a storm as you try and hold your chuckles back too. "And what's gonna get that attitude out of you?"
You don't answer, instead you turn around and kiss him tenderly. Quest seemed very happy by this and grabbed the edge of the counter to stabilize himself, knocking downs cup or two before helping you on the counter without care. He kisses you again and runs his fingers through your hair, stopping when he hears a disgruntled whine from you. He pulls back and looks at you, examining all kinds of faux-disappointment on your face. "Are you okay?"
"No, yeah, I'm just," You cut yourself off and laugh a little bit, pulling him closer. "You just got flour in my hair."
He shrugs with a shit-eating grin and kisses the corners of your lips before actually kissing you, laughing against your lips. "It's fine, you always liked it a bit messy."
He laughs harder when you hit his shoulder and still lean into him for another kiss.
A pair of arms wraps around your ribs and holds you tight. Xyx buries his head in your collarbones and takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent and your familiarity.
The rain's been coming down for a while, you assume, because his hair is wet and making you laugh softly as it glides up and down your neck. A hand reaches up to mess his hair up and he stops breathing entirely, for a moment at best, like your touch scared him to the core. You frowned at the thought and turned (to the best of your abilities) towards him. "Hi, love. Is everything alright?"
He doesn't reply and that's more of an answer than anything to you.
"Ah," you chuckle a bit and keep note of how his attention is purely focused on breathing in your scent and you wordlessly persuade him off of you, becoming face to face with him. "Rough day?"
Xyx sighs and runs a hand through his hair then proceeds to wipe his hand on his suits blazer. "Sorry, but I'd really rather not talking about it."
"That's alright too." You hum and grab his dryer hand, wiping your thumb over his knuckles and you barely see how his eyes go from mildly annoyed to something soft; relief or maybe a watered down version of joy. "Would... you like to join me in the bathroom?"
He stares at you for a second before processing a response, a voice that's barely there. As quiet as a willow tree and wavering ever so slightly, shaky almost. "Please."
His grip on you is almost bone crushing, like you'll leave him at any given moment, while yours is certain he'll stay. You guide him to the bathroom and close the door as he begins undressing. You help him with the little things, undoing his tie and unbuttoning the ends of his shirt. When he's bare in front of you, you press a kiss in the center on his tattoo and he just shivers.
He watches as you light a candle and make sure the water in the bathtub is a suitable temperature for him, and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he sees you only roll up your sleeves. "Are you not joining me?"
"No," You smile at him and gently help place him into the bathtub, kissing his cheeks and brushing hair out of his eyes. "I just wanted to help you relax, that's all."
"Oh."
Xyx sighs in contentment as you cup water into his water and massage shampoo on his scalp, and if you see tears in his eyes you don't comment on it and he doesn't recognize them. His heart beat feels like it's going insane, like he can't breathe properly with it pounding pounding pounding on his ribs. He's certain you can hear it.
Xyx once felt he was falling, someone unable to save like Icarus, and you caught him. He once believed he would never find someone who loved him again, he once believed he would spend the rest of life atoning for sins he does not remember committing and he found you instead. You bless him with your presence and for that, he's forever grateful.
You're humming and it's a song he knows you like, a song he's come to like because of you. He hums along with you and your humming becomes less of a modern tune and more of a hymn of laughter he finds himself addicted to.
You pour conditioner on his scalp and he relishes in the attention your fingers give him again, the sour look that was once previously on your face replaced with a smile.
You wash off the soap on once of your hands and hold one of his, the hand washing his hair becoming increasingly slower as time moved on. You two in the moment just felt timeless.
Xyx squeezes your hand and you squeeze back instantly, in sync. He kisses your knuckles and you kiss his, in sync. He leans over to kiss your head and you do the same, only wiping your mouth off afterwards. "I think I just got soap in my mouth."
He laughs and it's something beautiful and you smile because of him, and vice versa. He's only Xyx when he's with you.
You dry off his hair and brush it out for him, and you guide him to your shared bed and he follows you like a blind mouse. You say him down and kissed him softly, a tender moment that lingered for a second. He pouts and looks at you with doe eyes. "Doll, that was awful, you barely even kissed me. I think you need to try again."
A laughter escapes out of you and your fingers find his face once more that evening, pulling him closer to you. You kiss him again and again, like a broken record and he comes back, again and again. "You're so greedy. That's a deadly sin, you know."
Xyx smiles against your lips, finding the nape of your neck. You half-expected him to be looking at you with something devilish in his eyes, but you found nothing short of an angel sitting in front of you. "I'm well aware," He pulls your hand up to his lips again, kissing each knuckle separately. "And I would spend the rest of my afterlife in Hell if it means I got to be with you for as long as I can breathe."
Xyx’s hair tickled the base of your neck, his arms slithering around your waist and gripping like a vice. “I think the odds are in my favor today.”
You refused to acknowledge him for the time being. You’d asked the receptionist at the hotel you were staying very politely that you needed two beds, and here you were. In his arms. Which was nice, you loved him and he loved you and he was really warm, but it would be even nicer if he wasn’t being such a smug asshole about all of this. “This is only something that happens in bad fanfiction.”
“Oh, don’t act like that doll. You love me.”
You covered up the fond smile that was growing on your face by rolling your eyes. “Some days. Now I’m wondering why we’re even together.”
"So what I'm hearing is," he grabs your jaw with gentle fingers and places kisses where your jaw and neck meet, more smile than lips. "You admit that you love me? That you're sooo obsessed with me?"
"Oh my god," You feel laughter bubbling up in your throat and the faux scowl that once covered your face has been replaced with something more genuine. "You suck."
You feel Xyx's teeth against your skin. "And you're in love with me. What does that make you?"
"A fool."
He hums, closing his eyes and chuckling. His smirk is nothing but mischievous, you don't dare to trust him. "I was going for mental, or deranged even, but sure."
"I'm gonna punch you." You roll your eyes again and make an attempt to move your hands, but they're pinned to the side of your head before you can even go that far.
Xyx's eyes are now open and cunning. Like a devil, you think. Like a really pretty devil. "With what hands?"
Your guard is let down and you barely notice him leaning towards your face, pressing angel-like kisses all over your face. You sigh. "You suck."
"You've said that before. Are you just so in love with me you can't think right now?"
You kick him in the shin and give him a quick kiss to his lips. "Don't push it too much."
Xyx laughs and you swear to everything that is righteous and holy that it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Your limbs are entangled and you could swear you hated him a minute ago, but when he's this pretty you forget why.
You push a strand of hair away from his eyes and he leans into your touch, kissing your palm softly. His laughter starts up again and his demonic smile returns. "Eww. You're being cringe right now."
You shove him off the bed. You remembered why you hate him.
Cove’s hands traveled across your body, an almost motherly expression on his face. "I feel like your fever's gotten worse."
You turn over in his tight hold, your eyes clashing with the ocean. "Maybe it's because you keep cuddling me."
Cove doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to, really. A hand of his stays at your waist while one travels up to your chest. He places it on your heart and feels his heartbeat beat at the same time as yours. It’s gentle, but so prominent.
You place your head over his chest. He notices you’re warm, really warm. He goes to offer some water, or maybe soup, but you tell him you’re fine.
At that moment, it’s only you and him who exist. Everybody else in your neighborhood doesn’t matter, it’s only your home that has life in it. His fingers draw circles against your skin, and if your fever wasn’t making it hard enough to keep your eyes open, he was definitely elevating that battle. He notices this, just like every other little thing about you, and you can’t stop him from offering this time. “I really don’t mind making you soup.”
“I do.” You lift your head and try to keep your eyes open to meet his again, and almost immediately drop it.
“Oh.” You watch as his eyes follow to the ground, but the corner of his lips tug into a small smile.
You lazily wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer than your bodies would allow. You match his breathing with his, and suddenly everything sucks a lot less. You stay like that for a moment before deciding you needed his voice again. “Do you think we would’ve found each other in another life?”
He doesn’t miss a beat before replying with; “Of course.”
“...Same. I think that if you were an otter, I’d never let go of you so we never drifted apart,” You paused. You met his eyes again, smiling softly. “If you were a prince in a foreign land, and you were forced to marry someone else, I’d help you run away. I’d send you love letters every night and pray you’d read them.” You closed your eyes and hum, comfortably. You barely even notice that his eyes lingered on your figure. He takes a deep breath, and you feel his voice.
"...I think that, if you were a star, I'd become an astronaut. And I'd study you for years to come."
You hum, closing your eyes once again and letting yourself sink into his presence. "And what if I exploded? Like a supernova?"
"Then I'd take the little pieces of your stardust and compact you back together."
"And if I slip through your fingers?"
He pressed a kiss in between your eyes. You can feel him smile against your skin. "Then I would know that it's for the better. I'd make sure every scientist and astrologer alike knew your name. And you'd still be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he pauses to take a breath, bittersweetly smiling. “I think I’d always miss you in my bones. Grief and growing wouldn’t be enough to forget about you. About us.”
You don’t reply at first. You’re thinking about what to say when his hands come up to your scalp to play with your hair, his fingernails scratch against your scalp and you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.
Once Cove notices you on the brink of unconsciousness, he laughs and you can feel it vibrate through your bodies. He kisses the crown of your head. He says something, but you didn’t quite hear his voice. You only heard his heartbeat.
“I’ll love you when our hair turns gray. We’ll live in an old cottage, maybe not too far away from here so our kids could still have an experience like ours. Maybe not. I’m not too sure yet,” his fingers curl around some wisps of hair and pull you further into a sleepy trance. “...We could have a cardboard box full of photos throughout our life. I’m sure your moms have some baby pictures of us together. I think our kids would be envious of us.” He seals off his speech with a chuckle.
You don’t know which hand it was, but one of his hands starts holding one of yours. He presses a kiss to your cheekbone and whispers against your ear. “I love you.”
You knew that already. You squeeze his hand three times. You love him too.
Quest likes to think he met you where the soul had met the bone, where your smiles and touches made his heart ache. His arms envelop you, calloused finger tips drawing sleepy circles into your waist. He sits and breathes you in, breathes you out.
Compared to him, you're little in his arms, really. You lay there with your head resting on one arm, and connecting little freckles of his like you're creating constellations with the other. The two of you just sit in serenity, not wanting to break the silence and tenderness that floats in the air quite yet. Part of you doesn't want to leave because, well you're comfortable, but if you'd turn around you would meet his pretty blue eyes that are like an ocean that threatened to swallow you whole. Or, willingly, you’d drown. And you weren't so sure if you’d want to be saved.
Quest dips down to kiss the nape of your neck, relishing in the soft chuckles you make as you tighten your grip on his forearm. He doesn't budge a bit, and decides to bite softly as to not hurt you but to raise a few gasps out of you. His smirk grows when you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, and you can practically feel your faux melting at the sight of his face.
You're drowning.
And you really, really don't want to be saved.
He presses a firm kiss on your jaw, waking you up further. As you sit up, he inches his one arm to your face again to bring you closer to him. He places gentle kisses on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth, wherever he can reach. He hums against your skin, "Good morning."
Quest's lips find your neck once more, becoming more firm as they travel down to your collarbones. You gently run your hands through his hair, bringing him out of his sleep driven trance. "G'morning. It's way too early for this."
You yawn almost instantly after saying that making Quest's smile grow wider. Sarcasm drips from his voice as he kisses your cheek again, and again, and again. "Oh wow, I'm hurt," he gives you a playful pout to counter your rolling eyes. "Really, I just wanted to show you how much I adore my angel. Is that so wrong?"
He brings a hand of yours up to his lips and matches his smile with your own. Neither of you mention how his voice dipped a bit when he called you yours. Neither of you minded it. If it were up to you, you'd adore it all the more if he'd just call you that forevermore. Hearing him say "angel" was like he reinvented the word and gave it a new meaning, like it was his initial around your neck. As much as it was yours, it was his. Forget your name, you just wanted him.
You met his eyes again – sinking and drowning and dying – and you give him a little kiss on his lips. Then another one. Then you two are one. Like a set of gloves, you just go together, you're meant to be.
You pull away with a whine, doe eyes looking into ones of a Greek God. "I have to get ready for work."
"No you don't. Just call in sick."
You squint at him but there's no malice behind your stare. A smile refuses to leave your bruised lips. "I've done that one too many times for you, they're gonna start getting suspicious."
"Then fake it. Pretend you have a sore throat. Just stay with me a little while longer." Another kiss is pressed to your knuckles and you're dead. You've drowned in him completely. And you're totally okay with that.
"How can I just pretend to have a sore throat?"
A toothy smile graces his features, painted with mischief and cheekiness, sculpted from the finest hands. "I know a way or two."
Quest laughs when you slap his chest and he laughs a little harder when he hears your laughter, too.
He means it when he calls you angel. He hears God themselves whispering behind your voice like background vocals in a song when you speak and he sees the gates of Heaven when you smile. In the so called ugliness of your tears he sees himself and that itself makes him yearn for you all the more. He pulls you closer to his chest, his heart in sync with yours.
He knows he isn't a good person, but if he gets to stay here with you for just a second longer then he knows he did one thing right. You had become his home, a sacred oasis. If he was told he would die tomorrow, he'd be more than fine spending the time atoning for his sins in your arms.
Quest kisses your neck again. His lips travel, traced with electricity. He finds your pulse point and lingers, kissing it softly. He attempts to kiss once more, but it's more smile than pursed lips when he hears your laughter again.
The ocean is not a home for angels. It's inhospitable, dark and unforgiving. But as long as you swear yourself to the tides and mutter its praises, it will hold onto you.
The day comes when you find one of Aether's more hidden scars, his bare and muscled back shown to you in all of its glory. Your eyes travel across the different wounds on his back and find a particularly nasty mark. It's healed over well, but it's raised and pink unlike all his other ones. You point it out to him and he freezes up. Do you think he's ugly now? Scars weren't pretty, no no, they were quite the opposite weren't they? Were you going to detest this part of him when you promised to love him whole?
(He wouldn't blame you. He wouldn't love him either.)
Instead, you gently trace the scar and place soft kiss on top of it, like an angels touch, just grazing his skin. He barely even felt it but he knew it was wreak, oh god he knew. Your every touch lingered, The bump of your shoulders or a teasing finger around his waist. everything you did to him made his skin light on fire, electrocuted his heart and brought him to death and back. He discovers the words in his throat with a wobble to his voice, thick and whispery, embarrassment dripping off of the tight seams of his lips. "What are you– why are you doing that?"
You do nothing but hum. A beat passes, two kisses go by, then; "Nobody's ever kissed your scars better, have they?" Aether doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. "That's what I'm doing right now."
Aether spends the rest of his night silent, listening to your addictive voice spill praises of him that he doesn't think are quite true, but that's alright. Even if they're lies, everything sounds nicer when you say it.
Aether spends the rest of his night choking on air, with his eyes glossed with tears. He shouldn't be crying. Teyvat's hero does not cry. It's not like him to cry. But he feels so at home with you, You remind him of a family he's never had.
Aether spends the rest of his night in your arms. He breathes your skin and exhales his doubts. He still feels your lips on his back. He never wants to forget the feeling.
Aether spends the night squeezing your waist for he doesn't know if a tomorrow with you will come. And truth be told, for the world's strongest hero, he is scared. Not of the harbingers, not of the regions he's been, but of you. He's scared of having his last kiss.
Aether spends the night thinking about you. He looks up at your sleeping figure and hums before placing a featherlight kiss on the corner of your mouth.
Aether spends the night knowing your name will forever be the name on his lips.
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