I hold your hand to my cheek and feel the warmth once absent make my skin alive again. I press my lips into your palm, imprinting my soul against your lifeline, inhaling the comfort of your touch. I hold your gaze and fall back into familiar pools, a look of love quietly shared, slowly rekindled. When your hand touches mine, it is all I need to know that you are mine and you are here and you are holding me, touching me, hearing the whispers of this heart that waited for yours. I trace the path of your fingertips, my fire mirroring yours. The rest of the coffee shop fades as I lose myself in your touch, your now. Your lips are my passion, your hands are my peace, and you’re home, I’m home — we’re home.
Can I get some hcs for Reaper, pre- and post- fall, with an s/o who loves holding hands to feel their warmth?