#soft lesbians frolicking in the grass oh yeah

[bishopsbeloved]

my girl 💌

lucy gray baird x fem reader

Lucy Gray would do anything for you. You want to celebrate Valentine’s Day? She’ll sell her soul to give you the day you deserve.

so much fluff, mentions of sex, 1.6k words

Lucy Gray Baird has always thought of Valentine’s Day as a pointless, commercial event institutionalised by the Capitol.

The Covey has always rejected these kinds of capitalist holidays imposed solely for the purpose of making money, and Valentine’s Day is no exception to that rule. Lucy Gray doesn’t need the Capitol to tell her when she ought to celebrate her beloved. No, she’ll do that all year round. (As if the Covey don’t have their own festivities, anyway. Lucy Gray wakes you on every solstice with a bundle of flowers she’s picked from the woods, not bought, and poetic affirmations of her love.)

It hadn’t really occurred to her that you’d want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, to be honest. This is the first one you’ll be spending with her as her girlfriend, but you’ve known each other a long while and by now you’ve surely picked up on her indifference to the subject. This year she goes about her business as she always has, politely averting her gaze when she sees vendors at the Hob trying to pawn off Valentine-themed goods, and bringing you flowers or sweet little trinkets at any time she pleases. But if Lucy Gray is one thing, it’s hopelessly devoted to you, and she would do anything under the sun to bring a smile to your face. So when she hears you make an offhand comment to Tam Amber about wondering what this year’s Valentine’s Day will be like, her entire stance on the matter is instantly changed.

“You’re whipped beyond comprehension, Lu,” Barb Azure laughs as she watches her younger cousin fret over her plans.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of anythin’, Barb Azure, I just need your help,” Lucy Gray replies distractedly, kneading the dough of the bread she’s making with vigour. “So are you helpin’ me? Or no?”

On the morning of Valentine’s Day, Lucy Gray Baird kisses you awake, her smile so sweet you can taste it on your tongue.

“Mornin’, baby,” she says sweetly. She’s already up and dressed, and her skin is vibrant with the fresh-found dew of the morning. “Brought you flowers.”

“Morning, Lu,” your heart fills with warmth, “you’re the sweetest.”

“Happy Valentine’s, my sweet girl,” she murmurs, pulling you close to her, littering kisses atop of your hair. “Lord, I love you more’n anything.”

“Love you so much, Lucy Gray,” you whisper, toying with her fingers. You keep coming back to her ring finger, and solemnly swearing to yourself that someday you’ll find her a token of your love to wear upon it. Today isn’t the day — you’re both so young, still young enough to be Reaped — but you know that when the time comes you’ll give yourself over to Lucy Gray forever.

“When you’re thinkin’ that hard I can hear the bits in your brain whirring,” Lucy Gray tells you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “It’s real cute. What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

“Wanna marry you someday,” you mumble. Lucy Gray is rarely caught off guard, but this gets her, and her cheeks flood with colour. Her smile, though, only widens.

“I— it’ll happen someday, baby. I’ll make sure of it.”

You help one another get dressed, all giggles and teeth and hearts on sleeves. Outside it’s warm, the warmest it’s been all season, and you can feel winter breaking as life returns to the dormant earth beneath your feet.

“What’s today lookin’ like, Lu?” you ask.

“Thought we could go to the lake.” She grins easily at you, and it’s contagious.

The two of you amble through the woods, hand in hand, content to take your time together. The whole sweet sunny day stretches out in front of you, warm and dry (Lucy Gray takes one look at the clouds in the sky and determines today will be free of rain throughout, and in seventeen years she’s not been wrong yet) and full of love. Your eyes are fixed on her, the way hers are constantly darting around, not necessarily on guard but more eager to take in all the world has to offer. Every little detail is of significance to Lucy Gray. How her brain works is a beautiful mystery to you, but you’ve learnt she has a way of reading her surroundings, and she can see signs of the future in the earth as easily as she can breathe. Barb Azure says she’s a walking oracle. A few times she’s tried to explain to you how she notices what she does. There’s always a kind of sense to it, but you’ll never get it in the way she does. You’re more than content to sit back and watch her in her element, though. You just feel grateful to be by her side, your one and only, your angel among men.

“Look.” She stops you to point at two four-leaved clovers at the roots of a tree which have grown together so much that their stems are intertwined. “That means you’n me are forever.”

Your stomach swarms with butterflies. “Sure hope so.”

“I know so,” she tells you, brown eyes bright as she presses a kiss to your lips.

The little earthy plateau above the jetty of the lake, the one protruding from the flowers and trees, has been absolutely transformed since you saw it last. The thick, sturdy picnic blanket often used by the Covey on adventures has been laid out beautifully, and is held in secure place by rocks piled on each corner. Ever so carefully arranged atop the blanket are comfy pillows and a picnic for two, with the food set out all pretty in little jars and bowls and handkerchiefs. From where you’re stood you can see a few different kinds of bread and cake, freshly pressed jams, and fruits and berries. Even with how much of this she could’ve foraged, it shakes you how much tesserae has gone into this. Propped against the bough of a tree is her beloved guitar, with her little notebook of songs beside it.

You let out a little noise of surprise when you first lay eyes upon the scene. Lucy Gray fights a losing battle in trying not to smile at how fucking cute you are.

“What’d’you think?” she asks instead, not quite looking at you, toeing at the ground. “Barb Azure helped me with all the bakin’, n’then me’n the boys dolled it up all nice. They were real helpful.” (You know exactly what she means, too. Clerk Carmine is shaping up to be a real painter, he’s got an artist’s eye, and you know this kind of thing would be right up his street.)

You’re in awe for a moment, not even sure what to say. Lucy Gray’s dark eyes blink at you hopefully. She’d never say it, she’d rather die than say it, but you know that the ever so subtle tension to her shoulders, the slight tilt to her chin phrase a silent question.

“It… it’s so gorgeous, Lu, I can’t even, thank you,” you manage. Her posture softens and she steps forward to cup your face in her hands.

“I wanna treat you how you deserve, baby,” she tells you sincerely, and then pecks at your lips before her arms drop down to her sides again. “Now c’mon, or the damn flies’ll eat before we do.”

The two of you stay at the lake together for hours. Perhaps you wouldn’t have picked a February picnic of your own volition, but just as Lucy Gray predicted the weather’s so gorgeous you’re sure she must’ve charmed the skies the way she does with everyone else. You voice this thought to her, and she only laughs, her smile reaching her eyes as she feeds you another berry.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set above the two of you, painting the sky in pinks and golds, the air grows cooler, and you find yourself shivering in Lucy Gray’s arms. Ever-vigilant, she notices.

“Awww, is my baby cold?” she coos. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up.” Her hands ghost your sides teasingly, and you blush.

“Shut your mouth, Lucy Gray.”

She gasps, feigning offence. “Why, I thought you liked it wide open.”

You let out a noise of surprise, and hide your face in her hair. Lucy Gray laughs heartily, and cradles you to her, telling you over and over how sweet you are. The moon awakes her silver tongue, though, and as the skies get darker she trips you up again and again with filthy words which, eventually, turn to filthy actions.

Once the act is over, once Lucy Gray’s mouth has been put to good use, the two of you swaddle yourselves in all of the blankets and lie in a little cocoon, gazing up at the stars.

“Thank you, for today,” you whisper, so close to her that you don’t have to move at all to kiss her cheek. “Means a lot.”

She shrugs, nonchalant. “You honour our culture, you join in and all. This day was important to you, I wanted t’honour yours.”

You laugh softly. “You’re sweet. …I don’t think I would call the Districts my culture.”

“No?” Lucy Gray asks, genuinely curious. You shake your head. “What is, then?”

“Don’t know. I got nothing. Just what you teach me.”

She lets out a hum of amusement. “Yeah? You wanna be Covey?” She says it with humour, but the hope in your eyes has her straightening a little. “Y— you do?”

“If you’ll have me,” you say shyly.

Her heart swells against the bars of her chest. “If we’ll ha—? Darlin’, I want this more’n anything,” she tells you lowly. “We love you. I love you. You’re one of us.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper.

“You’re mine. I’m yours. My girl,” she murmurs, fingers beginning to comb through your hair. You press your cheek against hers, so overwhelmed with love for her, and continue to gaze up at the stars with your love.