@eonien for stella || s.c.
it isn’t like she hasn’t seen him before. even before they ended up here in his bed. she’s examined him, patched him up, run stress tests— she knows what he looks like beneath cashmere and kevlar. but this is different. there’s nothing clinical about the way her eyes run over exposed skin now. the way her fingers run along neck and shoulders, that little tilt of her head when her gaze settles on a scar or a tattoo. it’s like she’s trying to commit it all to memory, understand it. it makes emil smile and he lifts a hand to brush a thumb over her forehead, then lets his fingers rake through her hair “ what’s going on up here? ”











