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“Simon.” A hand finds its way into his hair, long fingers tangling into the mess. “Simon?”
The touch. It's warm like fire. It rests heavy on his scalp. It shepherds him away from his mind, back to reality where he is making a fool of himself in front of Grace.
Simon unfolds his wings reluctantly, tipping his head to look at Grace properly through bleary vision. The hand on his head doesn’t slip away. Not that he wants it to. He leans into it, bracing his knees against the sand so he can tilt towards the touch.
TLDR: touch-starved, awkward Bloodymary wingfic
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Очень нежный фф про ау с птицами, сюжета как такового нет, но мило
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Bookmark Notes:
Wing fic my love