And I envy the rose That you held in your teeth, love With the thorns underneath, love Sticking into your gums

Lip didn’t know what he would do without you. In some completely uncharacteristic way, he found himself falling harder and harder every day for those little noises and movements you would make when you were happy. (He thought they were called stims?)

He wasn’t one for relationships, but when dawn was a whisper away and you were sound asleep in his bed, he couldn’t help but wonder what your future children would look like. Would they have his cerulean eyes? Your Roman nose?

He knew your life was far from easy. Autism was not an easy thing to live with, and with knowing you, he got to experience that first hand. The meltdowns, stims, ableism… he didn’t know how you could deal with it and still have such a kind and beautiful personality.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Yo,” Lip whispered as he crawled through your window, his jumper sleeve catching on the lock. You giggled softly, unhooking it before watching him land in an unceremonious heap on your bedroom floor.

Your nose crinkled in discontent - he smelled like cigarettes. He instantly crinkled his brows upon seeing the unhappy look on your face.

“Y’smell like cigs,” you mumbled in discontent when he asked, to which he pulled off his shirt for you. It was nice to watch the muscles in his torso ripple under his movement.

However, the smell wasn’t completely gone when you lay down next to him. Stars, couldn’t he go a day without a smoke?

“These too,” you complained, picking at his belt. He sighed, getting up and unbuckling it before pulling off his pants too, leaving your boyfriend in his socks and plaid boxers.

In a swift, teasing motion, you were falling back onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with his leg swinging over so he was straddling you. It was nothing inherently suggestive, and nothing inherently sexual, it was just something inherently… you.