→ ฬђєгє เร ๓ץ ๓เภ๔? → norman x reader

28. the prophet; and the traitor

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄʀᴀᴅʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀɴ'ꜱ ᴀʀᴍꜱ, legs a tangled mess, and head pressed under his chin. This is new. Usually, Norman likes to be held... but as you sigh happily into him— he smells fresh and minty. You wonder if he's left an incense out over the night.

You carefully pull away, but his hand is tight on your hip, you inch up, trying to lay eye level with him. His white eyelashes flutter, but he still sleeps beautifully undisturbed. You raise your hand to trace his sharp chin but think better of it because it might wake him up. His hair is a mess, tousled and pointing up at hilariously awkward angles. You watch as he peacefully sleeps, feeling yourself closing your own eyes again. You almost do, until his curious hand falls from your hip, then to your butt, pushing you flush against him.

You stifle a surprised yelp and grab his wandering hand, placing it high on your torso.

You glare at him as the scoundrel continues to sleep innocently. Though, you don't glare at him for long— you supposed it's what you get for pinching him last night. It makes you chuckle softly.

"Hmmmm? Y/N.....??", Norman lifts his head, voice groggy, and eyes squinty.

With your pointer and middle finger, you gently brush his eyelids, making him close them fully, "Shh... Go back to sleep."

Norman, with his eyes closed, buries his face in the pillow, whining a muffled, "But you are awakeeee."

You pet his head, and he hums happily, a slight shiver running down his spine as your cold fingers brush against his scalp.

His head turns back to you, and his eyes open fully, adjusted to the sunlight. Twinkling like sapphires.

"You're so pretty." You feel it, deep in your soul, you feel his warmth and its sincerity. You hope he can feel it too– the connection between you and Norman since the two of you were kids.

Your hand caresses his cheek, "I believe the phrase is, 'Good Morning'."

Norman's arms snakes further around your back, and he buries his face into your neck while you play with his hair.

"But you are pretty."

"Good Morning, Blue."

There are knocks on the door, "BOSS!! It's about breakfast time!!," it's Cislo, "Vincent has news for you too!!"

Norman groans quietly, and you let go of him, you pull away. And Norman feels cold.

"I'll be there soon!!"

You sigh, turning away, your back facing Norman.

His slim fingers brush against your shoulder as he hugs you again, and like magic— he is warm again.

"You have to go," you say, sitting up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Norman follows you, silent, he moves your hair over your shoulder and traces the scars on your shoulders, shoulder blades, and lower back.

He likes the way your body relaxes each time he explores, outlining your golden-hued body, loving your scars and skin with his eyes and gentle fingertips.

"It might be important," you say quietly. An emptiness creeps up inside you, from the darkest parts of your gut to your heart, grasping and pulling.

"You are more important," Norman whispers as he kisses your shoulder.

"Norman," you say with a little more toughness in your voice.

Kisses and butterflies flutter from the base of your neck to your jawline. When did he learn how to do this? Since when did this boy make you feel warm, no— hot like a star, like a sun, burning and burning.