Summary: Because she is an author and he is a fascinating subject, even during their quiet moments.
Rating: T
Pairing: NaLu
She opens her eyes in the middle of the night and smudges of pink fill her blurred vision and she doesn't scream like usual. She just breathes.
Natsu's chest heaves with a sleepy sigh and his eyelids flutter because he has the uncanny ability to feel her wake up. Obsidian meets brown and she exhales a little breath and nuzzles her way into his chest. His fingers skim from her stomach to her hips like he's reading a book and trying to find his favorite part and he encases her slowly, carefully, and at that moment she is his most precious thing.
Moonlight paints her windowsill with messy strokes of white that spill out over her bed and his hair and her hair and his face and her face. Her eyelashes kiss the hollow of his neck and she feels him shiver under her touch and she loves that little power she has over him, because even though he can blow up buildings with a single punch she is still the one who can reduce him to this.
He hums and the sound vibrates through his ribs and rattles her own. She feels heat crawl up her arms and spread through her chest and she feels home in the low thumping of his heartbeat. She hears past, future, and wonderful, beautiful present in the pattern of his breathing. She feels a fairy tale in curly, bold letters, ink still wet because it's being written now and it's her story and his story and their story.
In the morning, she will kick him out of bed, feed him and his flying blue cat, and go to a guild of wizards. Pages will be turned and this mundane little scene will be forgotten in the grandness of the plot.
But, she still drifts away- warm and peaceful and sleepy- with the thought that in just a few slow breaths, they may have just written a novel of their own.
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More of language and imagery practice than anything hmmm