i... knowww!!

breaking news: hedda actually wrote a thing

I DON'T RLY KNOW HOW TO INTERPRET THAT?!!?

the smell of coffee carried on through the small house, waking each soul with soft urge. soon, soft cries from the smallest life resident.

he rolls over, groans and tries to wake up by placing kisses on her bare shoulder. "who's turn is it?"

"i believe it's yours."

"how absolutely wonderful", the sarcasm in his tone is made mile by love.

she returns his kisses. "now, go!" then she returns to sweet sleep once again. but she can still hear how her husband finds their little one in her crib, now gleefully laughing at how the cat plays with the fake dead bird. "hello! good morning, little one!"

you'd seen him multiple times. the back of his brown head had far too many times been situated before you in the lecture hall. he was handsome, in that classic way. tall and lean, he looked like he'd been abstracted from a novel by austen or brontë.

and one day he sat down beside you. in the most casual manner, he approached. "is this seat taken?"

"no, go ahead."

and then he started to talk. about small things. but his voice was laced with something deep red, more sensual than small talk.

"are you free tonight?"

roses already started to unfold, "i think so."

"would you mind spending the night with me then?"

full bloom.

"not at all, actually."

he leaned closer, breathing hitched. lips pressed against your cheek, sweet and soft.

his own face was becoming a garden, carnations in full glory. "i'm already looking forward to it."

"to what?"

the way he seems so unfamiliar to common kind touch bruises your heart just a little. each time he almost flinches as you place a hand on his shoulder or hug him tightly. his eyes always search yours for answers.

he doesn’t get used to it, but he starts to like it quite a lot. he becomes comfortable with small touches here and there, he doesn’t have to over-think every move with you.

and kisses - is there anything better on this earth? he loves the small tugs and touches that follow.

with your touches, his body starts to feel less like a monster’s and more like his own. when he looks in a mirror, his inital reaction isn’t disgust anymore - there’s something else sprouting beneath.

you never knew where that ring on his finger came from. one day it was simply there, shining as it reflected the light of the sun. he rarely took it off. and you found ridiculously attracted. it brought new attention to his hands, and god, did you wonder why you hadn’t noticed them before.

long, flexible, and gorgeous. they ran through his hair. adjusted his glasses. took your hand in the most tender way.

they made you curious, curious about what else they could do.

“what’re you thinking about?”

“hmm?”

“you’ve been quite weirdly staring at my hands writing for the last minute.”

you meet his eyes, pink peonies beginning to grow on your cheeks. “no, i was just…”

your hands grasped his magical ones, placed them by your collar bones. eyes meet, “i was just wondering what else they can do but write.”

“well, how about i just show you?”