@botrusanimarum · / &· 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀 · *
For a long moment she can’t answer him. Not because she doesn’t know what to say — but because the words are too heavy, too bright, sitting like a jewel beneath her ribs, aching to be given and terrified to be spoken. His confession has unmade her in the gentlest way: the man who once wrapped himself in silence now spilling his heart into her hands, raw and unguarded, telling her he wants calm, wants family, wants her as his home. She had asked, half afraid he might flinch, that her timing would be too much, too sharp for the wounds he still carries. But instead he’s here, looking at her with eyes that hold nothing back, and for the first time in years she feels what it is to be chosen — wholly, irrevocably.
Her hand moves before she even thinks to stop it, slipping into the back of his hair, threading through with a need that is as much anchor as it is hunger. When his forehead comes to rest against hers, she feels her chest break open, slow and trembling, because this is him. This man. This storm who believes himself unworthy, this fortress who has made a cathedral out of his own grief — he’s letting her in. ❝ 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚, ❞ she whispers, and his name fractures in her throat like the first crack of lightning in summer. Her thumb brushes along his jaw, tender and deliberate, forcing him to feel the truth in her touch. ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. ❞ Her lips ghost against his temple as she breathes the vow into his skin.
But when he calls himself unworthy, when he says it like it’s carved into the marrow of his bones, something fierce and protective flares in her chest. She cups his face fully, tilting his gaze to hers, green eyes alight with fire and devotion both. ❝ 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩, ❞ she murmurs, the softness in her voice edged with steel. ❝ 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝. ❞ Her fingers smooth over his cheek, a caress that feels like absolution. ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚. 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬. ❞ Her voice breaks just slightly on the last word, quiet but deliberate, because she wants him to hear it — wants it to root itself somewhere he can’t dig it out later when his doubts come clawing back.
The words tremble out of her, but her gaze never wavers, sharp and steady, holding him there in the light she refuses to let him forget. Her palm slides down, pressing over the beat of his heart as if to bind it to her own. The silence around them humming with something so sacred it feels like the world itself is listening. She leans in closer until her lips brush his ear, voice slipping lower, warmer, as if confessing a secret she could never give to anyone else. ❝ 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞? ❞ she teases softly, though there’s a truth beneath it that steals the edge from her grin. Her fingers toy absently with the collar of his shirt, like she needs something to ground her while she admits it. ❝ 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈’𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐮𝐩. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬. ❞
Her smile deepens, softer now, but no less mischievous. She tilts closer, lips grazing the line of his jaw as she lowers her voice. ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. ❞
Heat pools in her cheeks, and for once she doesn’t hide it. She presses her mouth to the corner of his lips, lingering, then drifts lower, letting her words fall into the space between kisses: ❝ 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭. 𝐒𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝? 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬. ❞ Her laughter slips out then, breathless and unguarded, the kind of laugh she’s given him only a handful of times, like a rare jewel uncovered. She ducks briefly against his throat, hiding from her own honesty, but her lips still find the hollow of his collarbone, brushing a kiss there as if she can’t stop herself.
When she finally lifts her gaze again, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and her composure — the armor she wears so easily — is nowhere to be found. Just her. Bare and certain. ❝ 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, ❞ she admits, voice low and steady, carrying the weight of something eternal. ❝ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮. 𝐌𝐞. 𝐔𝐬. 𝐀 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ❞
Her forehead rests against his once more, lips brushing his with reverence, with hunger, with the quiet enormity of a promise too vast for language. And then, softer, alluring, a smile curving against his mouth as her fingers toy at the nape of his neck, she gives him the last truth she has left. ❝ 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, ❞ she whispers, voice dipping into something that is both vow and invitation, love and desire entwined. ❞
