want this like a cigarette
for @primalmusic and @sapphicrnm’s Galentine’s event <333
The room had fallen into chaos.
Liz’s stuff strewn all about, long forgotten feather boas draped over the mirrors, leather jackets fished from the recesses of the closet and tossed on top of boxes and old keepsakes fished out from under the bed. She made moving look like a hurricane hit Roswell after picking up about two tons of glitter from a glitter factory.
Not that Isobel would complain. They were currently going through her stuff to box it up and move her into Isobel’s apartment. Live together. They were going to live together.
Every time she thought about it it sent a pleasant buzz of contentment through her whole body, making a sort of sappy smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She probably looked like some dopey idiot.
Liz is sitting cross legged on the floor thumbing through loose leaf paper and cards, presumably notes and letters she had saved over the years. She looks beautiful, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders, soft waves framing her face. Sunlight all but caressing her skin.
Isobel moves to the bed and sits down amid the chaos of clothes and miscellaneous items from the closet, and does her best not to stare at Liz’s mouth as she absently chews at her bottom lip.
It’s a task, one that requires diverting Isobel’s attention to the unfortunate wardrobe choices that currently decorate her girlfriend’s bed. She unfortunately was sleeping with someone who shared her brothers’ taste for the cowboy aesthetic. Belt buckles, midrise jeans and enough silver jewelry to make a crow lose its ever loving mind. It looked good on Liz of course, but it was the principle of the thing, the boots and the buckles and the leather.
“This-” Isobel holds up a particularly offensive shirt, paisley and ruffles, something she thinks she recalls Liz wearing in middle school. “Cannot be caught dead in my house.”
Liz looks up from whatever torn notebook page she’s reading, there's a humorous glint in her eyes, mouth turned up at the corner, amusement written across her whole face. “Oh? I thought it was our house now.”
“Hmph,” Isobel rolls her eyes, heart skipping a beat in her chest. Our rattling through her mind over and over as she tosses the shirt down and grabs her knees, hoping Liz can’t see her hands all but shaking. “Not before you put your name on the lease.”
