floriography [ stories five ]

yeet || random shit bc im tired

[ literally i'm just the storyteller here but,,, these characters are all diagnosed with being too baby at points in their lives.

stay safe,
lew. ]

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[ uh set during the affair between l + l, idk y'all i'm tired and there's fuckin snow on the ground, first person pov but don't come for me if shit's inaccurate bc i'm 21 and never kissed anyone ]

My hands are on either side of his jaw, letting me pull  him in and kiss him like I'm not doing anything wrong. I shouldn't be letting myself do this. Not again.

But the swell of affection in my chest refuses to let this be a one-time thing. It's a wave, one that continually crests and crashes without end, because every time I turn around, he's there. We're together constantly, with only the barest of breaks, like the tide and the shore, the constant motion paired with the immovable.

I don't want to figure out which one I am. Am I the ocean, continually running from stability and then flinging myself right back? Or am I the sands, getting worn down endlessly and eternally by my dearest companion?

The guys must assume that we've been working on writing for the next album all this time. Times between falling into the sheets and falling asleep, if there's really any gap, are occasionally designated as a time to volley lyric ideas off of each other like we're on opposite sides.

And I'll admit, sometimes it seems like we're miles apart. The bed stretches into time and space, and those few inches become state lines and oceans and— Suddenly, we aren't here. I'm wherever: the East Coast, France, Japan. Wherever it is we've fallen asleep. He's home, close to California with the guy he really loves.

It's easy enough to pretend. I'm becoming an expert at this act, this pretending like it doesn't bother me that he's not mine. I see it sometimes, when he looks at me and a little bit of the light leaves his eyes, because I'm not the one he really wants to see. When I wake up, and he's in a chair by the window, staring down at his phone with a guilty look. When he's on the phone, telling someone, "I love you, baby."

He may not be mine, but there's no denying that, even through all this bullshit, I'm his.

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okie dokie idea time bc i'm tired

- bc i've read ahead in the shadowhunters books i kinda wanna do something that's set a few years ahead in my au for it, bc i rlly want ezra and ronnie to raise a warlock kiddo (aka rosaline??) and i'm all for the familial dynamic. like,,, idk i kinda want ezra and chase to be parabati but then thinking more ez and logan would be more suitable ig?? but literally it'd be everyone else spoiling the kid

- and bc i cut it out of this draft, a first person pov of chase meeting ronnie for the first time??

- i'm very tired and wish someone would cuddle with me rn so probably some mushy love bullshit bc i can

- also high key considering writing a thing about lewis getting married and logan having to convince him to calm the fuck down