[RQ] [SE] playing dirty

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

Her words land like a second heartbeat inside his chest. They're so powerful he has to blink hard against the immediate sting behind his eyes. Not tears, not quite, just the pressure of too much feeling trying to find space in a body that’s already full of her. It escapes as a laugh. Rich in promise and bright in relief the sound erupts hard enough that he has to turn his head away from her to release it. It flares around the tender moment, too touched to remain so quiet and careful when joy rises like a violent force inside him, overtaking everything in a clean sweep.

He had not expected her to shrink away from it, though the worry that it's too much or too soon had caught in his chest the moment the words left him. After all, she'd once asked they take it slow, although he feels like they've since smothered that idea so he doesn't worry about it much. She doesn't shrink though, she embraces. He can almost see the way she lightens enough that she might float away with it all, like every passed I love you is a strong breeze and her heart a set of wings, and this the zephyr that will finally tug her entirely aloft. He'd be right up there with her.

His hand falls away from her face, threading with one of her hands instead and burying it against his lips where the shaking remnants of his happiness settle into a low vibration. He rolls a kiss over every knuckle, then grabs for her other hand to do the same, doting upon each joint before tilting down to her lips. The kiss he gives her now is soft and steady, stripped down to something being bared open, but impossibly full of that one, unwavering thing. It's meant for only this moment, shaped by her hands in his, by the rasp of the shower and its steam, and the echo of a future full of more moments waiting to be built. It's now, and forever, the fold of his love being tucked into her.

He pulls back with a smile, almost bashful as color reaches his cheeks with the surge of unstoppable affection for her. "I have a surprise for you, in my bag. So, let's finish here, get the kitchen cleaned up and the fruit juiced. Then you can open it, and from there we'll figure out what the rest of forever looks like."

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Her joy is too big for her skin. It pulses beneath her ribs like a song trying to burst out, pressure rising until it swells into her throat, her chest, the spaces behind her eyes and between her teeth, until it feels like the only thing keeping her from floating away entirely is the weight of Kaisel’s hands in hers. There’s no way to say it, no sentence big enough to hold the scale of what she feels. Even if he proposed right now—even if a god descended in glittering light and declared a divine wedding on a beach of stars—none of it would come close. Not to this.; not to how much she wants forever with him. Not to the way everything inside her is echoing yes with such certainty it feels absurd to imagine there was ever a version of the future where it wasn’t him.

When he kisses her knuckles, laughter bubbles up like a popped champagne cork, fragile and glittering and breathless, the only thing her body can offer under the sheer pressure of her joy. It spills out in a shaky little giggle, effervescent and bright, until his mouth finds hers again and she sighs into the kiss like he’s the answer to a question her heart’s been asking since it first learned how to beat.

She doesn’t deepen the kiss; she only wants to stay here, suspended in the warmth of him, the press of his palms, the sweetness of his lips like they’ve been carved out of time just for this. When he pulls back, it’s her turn to remember to breathe. She huffs out a soft, astonished sound, shooting him a look so full of love it could drown, incredulous that he can make her feel this way, like the entire world has stitched itself into shape around them.

Then he mentions a surprise, and her breath escapes on a stunned, delighted laugh, because as if fucking her until she literally felt like a puddle and then saying he wanted to marry her hadn’t already been gift enough. Her whole body beams with the sound, brightness lifting her in every limb. "I can't believe after making me feel like that and not-not proposing, you still expect me to do chores." Beaming at him, she shakes her head and gestures vaguely to her noodle-like limbs. "You’re definitely going to have to help me up," she says, still glowing, still laughing, still looking at him like he’s everything. Because he is, and forever will be.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

She voices all his same sentiments perfectly enough that his laugh is abrupt in response to her. "I meeeean, we could just keep laying here and find out if the fruits will juice themselves? You know, a science experiment, which is also super important." He waits for a moment, as if expecting approval to do just that, but does sigh in defeat. He wants to give her the gift he'd been holding onto, so might as well head out of the bathroom. And hey, who knows, maybe it could help de-flour her kitchen. Hopefully it'd buy it dinner first.

With one of her noodle limbs still in his grip, he draws it close to his chest with sudden concern. He hunkers down lower, nose skimming near it as if he means to scent a baguette, but it's only to get the scrutiny of his gaze closer. His other hand squeezes every so often down the length, and all the while he "Hmmm"s about it. He gives her limb a good side to side jostle, then seems to conclude his exam and nods sharply, to himself. "Yes, well I see. You have a severe case of you'recuteasshititis, therefore I do recommend that you not walk or the foreseeable future. It's a very grave condition." Which is to say, she's fully captured him in her love and he will, in fact, be happy to cart her around in this very moment because of it.

Getting to his feet without ceremony or delay, he turns the shower off and takes a nearby towel to burrito her up in it. Once he's got her tucked and toweled, he dries off in a quick pat and a shake of his head. "Alright, leggo," he says as he reaches down for his little tortilla delight to scoop her in both arms and valiantly head into the battlefield they left behind.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora groans with the dramatic flair of a woman who has clearly suffered unspeakable hardship, even as the corner of her mouth betrays her with a traitorous smirk. "Maybe I’ll just channel and make someone else do it. Sunjata seems like he can juice things better well," she mutters, feigning exhaustion even as her eyes glint with mischief. She makes no move to actually call on anyone, of course; the suggestion is as hollow as her bones currently feel, but the humour helps to soften the edges of her lingering bliss.

Her laughter starts in earnest the moment Kaisel lifts her arm like some prized limb and begins inspecting it with all the reverent intensity of Gomez Adams. She practically wheezes as he squeezes and jostles, tilting her head back against the tile as if this is the height of ridiculous luxury. When he declares her affliction, she nods solemnly, her expression full of gravitas. "Well, that's a relief, honestly. I thought it was a terminal case of toowellfuckedtoeverwalkagainitis."

The towel burrito happens so quickly she barely has time to react before she's being bundled like a beachside delicacy. And when he reaches for her—scooping her up in his arms like she weighs nothing at all—she throws her arms around his neck with the ease of belonging there, legs dangling out of the towel like she's a half-wrapped breakfast. She plants the loudest, most obnoxious kiss against his cheek, smacking her lips dramatically as if she’s sealing a fate. "This is PROOF, by the way," she declares, voice rising like it’s meant to be heard by the gods, "that the mud I made you eat made you stronger." How the hell else was he capable of being verticle while she still felt like an overboiled bit of pasta?

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

He breaks with a laugh mid-movement at her own name for the condition. "This is why you don't self-diagnose," he tsks, a very somber, lecturing sound. "Maybe you've a touch of it, but I don't think that's onset completely yet." That is to say, he's positive they could wreck each other further than this, and is in fact counting on doing so later. Maybe today still, or tomorrow, or both. He can't quite seem to get enough of her when everything she does lights him up on the spot, a glow of happiness so profound he can't help but turn into a human torch.

It's that exact burn igniting his movements now, the not not proposal like an afterburner, coupled with the desire to gift her what he's been holding onto for far too long. It's no ring, but it's still a bit of a promise, or the fulfillment of one anyway. Which is why his scoff drags out long and loud in reference to the vile mud. "Absolutely NOT!" He's half a mind to go all noodle again and drop her as proof. "This is because you keep making me go for runs." Which he's still going to grumble about until they're both dead, but it's a necessary evil, he can admit to that.

Waltzing into the bedroom, he places her down on her bed with an intentional toss at the very end to flop her onto the mattress with a bounce. Grinning to himself, he perches on the edge, leaning down for his backpack. "Okay, I lied earlier, I'll give you the present now. ONLY, because it might help, because I also don't want to do any more chores." In fact, coming to the bedroom is far more dangerous than the shower. With nothing but towels and the plush comfort of a bed, he could easily get swept away into a lazy cat nap cuddled up with her, or see if she could become thoroughly symptomatic with toowellfuckedtoeverywalkagainitis.

First, he withdraws his own spirit whistle, glancing over his shoulder at her as he blows it in much the same fashion. "Hey spirits? Could you juice all those fruits for us? Thaaaaaaaaaanks so much!" Pausing just long enough to confirm that there's an answer on the deck where the fruits lay scattered, containers in the cupboards surely available (and flour free) for them to use if they don't have their own whims.

Once confirmed, he reaches back into his bag. "Okay, close your eyes and hold out your hands," he instructs. Reaching, he pulls out the bag with its seashell design and oceanic colors, the little charm from Mateo's efforts on the handle, blessed now by Frey to capture the wind for her. He turns to offer it up, aware he doesn't need to call attention to old mistakes, but wanting to fulfill as much as he said he would for her where he can. "I thought, maybe this would help, when we go see the whales," he tries to explain, which is invitation for her to look now.

---

Kai uses the spirit pact from my birthday rewards

Kai gives Flora this item:
Bag of Gusts | A seashell-shaped bag that when opened, emits a constant stream of air for 10ft.
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora chuckles, chin dipping toward her shoulder as she shoots him a glance that’s entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, I'm not doctor but I'm pretty sure the only way to contract toowellfuckedtoeverwalkagainitis is through coming into contact with someone already infected," she drawls, her grin spreading with wicked innocence.

Laughing again as she tucks her head against his chest, she adds, "Okay, fine. But wouldn’t you rather eat mud to get strong if it meant not having to run with me?" And it’s not even hypothetical; Kai’s gotten into really good shape thanks to those hellish early morning cardio sessions, even if he wheezed less and whined exactly the same. It’s one of her favourite things about him: that he’ll do the work, but he’ll complain dramatically the whole way through like it's a performance art piece.

When she’s flopped onto the bed with all the grace of a starfish tossed ashore, Flora lets out a muffled oof against the mattress and then wriggles to sit upright without undoing the towel burrito he’s wrapped her in, beaming as her eyes follow him to the bag. She perks up more when he pulls out a spirit whistle and raises her eyebrows in impressed approval, her head tilting to catch the faint rustling on the upper deck; spiritual rustling, not the mundane kind. "Okay that’s the best present ever," she starts to say, assuming skipping chores was the surprise. But then he’s still moving, still reaching, and she blinks, caught off guard. "Wait—what?" But he’s already instructing her, and her heart’s already trying to skip out of her chest. Eyes squeezed shut, hands held out, she feels the soft weight placed into them, something familiar in shape, but unexpected.

When she cracks her eyes open and sees the purse—seashell hues, ocean blue and sandy coral, a little flower charm clinking softly on the handle—she gasps, the sound gentle but filled to the brim with delight. Her fingers flutter to the charm like it’s sacred. "These are my favourite," she whispers, voice gone all soft and reverent and full as she looks up at him with an expression so loving it could power lighthouses.

The confusion comes in gently, like a tide. Her brow furrows slightly. "Wait...how does a purse help with—" She opens it, and immediately yelps as a gust of wind bursts up to her face, lifting curls, flaring towel, and startling her so badly she drops the purse onto the floor with a startled squeak. Wide-eyed and blinking at the thing like it might take off on its own, she bursts into laughter, delighted and a little breathless. "Kaisel," she accuses, stunned and giddy and more than a little overwhelmed by the sheer Kai-ness of it all.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Above deck, the spirits of the Oerwoud stir with lazy delight, drawn by the whistle and the scent of citrus still clinging to the humid air. A breeze winds through the open space like a sigh, ruffling leaves and stirring the sticky warmth into something briefly cooler. From Flora’s kitchenette, a handful of bowls and pitchers clatter softly to life, lifted by invisible hands as they whisk through the air with cheerful purpose, rattling up the stairs one by one.

On the deck, fruit begins to roll across the planks—lemons, limes, grapefruits, oranges—nestling themselves in neat piles as if arranging for a banquet. With a soft rustle, the unseen spirits begin their work, squeezing juice with exaggerated squelches and the occasional satisfying pop, laughter seeming to echo faintly in the leaves above as liquid sunshine begins to fill the pitchers.

RANDOM EVENT

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

Glancing down at her with an expression wrapped in disgust and dismay, he emphatically shakes his head. "I would never choose eating mud over spending time with you. Even miserable running time." If it came down to them sharing a meal of mud, he'd still pick the running though, because when else could he get away with feigning leg injuries just to get her to bend over for him?

He can't keep the eyeroll from racing away with his expression when she praises the spirit whistle of all things. "Please, have slightly higher standards than that Flo-Ro." If all she expects is a little spirit handiwork to make her day, he could have put far less effort into this, it'd seem. He's eagerly reaching for the actual gift now though, more certain than ever it'd land with meaning if she'd be happy enough just to dodge juicing.

Everything stills and quiets as the bag is placed in her hand. He holds a breath he doesn't mean to, leans in without conscious consideration, everything in him drawn to this moment of her reaction. The instant she gasps, he lights up like someone struck a match inside him and forgot to blow it out. This is the real gift, the thing he’s been waiting for since he first tucked the purse into his pack—her joy.

"Mateo helped me make that," he murmurs of the charm, keeping his voice just as low as hers, afraid anything louder might steal the moment away. "The flowers are from his shop." is eyes find hers, impossible not to right now with the way her whole face beams up like the sun’s being coaxed through her skin. It only stutters briefly, the question forming on her features before her tongue, but he waits it out with a readiness, about to reach out to pull the flap up for her just as she manages it.

His laugh rushes out with nearly the same force, anticipation tumbling into raw delight when her curls startle like finches from her shoulder. The grin that takes over his whole face is big and stupid and bright, the kind of smile that tries to live in every muscle from his cheeks down to his shoulders. "Told you I'd steal the wind for you," he reminds with a satisfied flop back against the bed, swallowing up the accusation like it's the exact, favorite drink he ordered.

He glances sidelong at her after a beat, a hand drifting out to curl behind her, fingers brushing against the fabric of the towel. Above, he can hear the spirits hard at work. "This way we can always sail anywhere we want to."

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora can’t help but laugh, the sound rising light and bright against the plush quiet of the bedroom, her joy softened at the edges by something achey and tender. It’s ridiculous, the way he says it—how emphatically he declares he’d rather run with her than eat mud, how he scoffs at the spirits juicing fruit like it’s a low bar rather than a little utterly selfless—but there’s something too real beneath the silliness, too genuine in his tone and timing for her to be anything but completely undone by it. He’s already wowed her, already given her more than she ever expected, and yet somehow it’s these throwaway comments that hit just as hard, because her standards had never been set by grand gestures. They’d been shaped by years of being the second choice, the afterthought, the ‘maybe if there’s time.’ Of course calling spirits would have been enough. Of course she’s thrilled by it. She’d never gotten to expect more until him.

The mention of Mateo’s name has her pausing mid-grin, aqua eyes flicking toward Kaisel in surprise, not because her brother had anything to do with flowers (that part feels like the most natural truth in the world), but because Kai had gone out of his way to include him at all. "Really?" she breathes, looking at him like he might have just rewritten the entire definition of thoughtfulness. The charm glints beneath her fingers and for a moment she can only marvel, fingertips grazing over the little flower with something reverent, like it’s sacred just for being chosen with care.

And then she opens the purse, and the wind rushes up to meet her. But it isn't just a gust; it’s a promise flung open on invisible wings, warm and wild and impossibly freeing as it catches her curls and sends them lifting like leaves in a storm. When he reminds her that he told her he’d steal the wind, her chest tugs sharply, because he had said that, once upon a time, and she hadn’t thought it anything more than a beautiful line. But he had; he’d remembered, and then done it, had gone and made a gift of the sky just because she’d once wanted it. And more than that, more than the wind or the charm or even the bag, it strikes her that he’s solved something in her she never told him needed fixing. Because she still remembers being stranded on the Sugartide, helpless and furious, and now, because of him, that will never happen again.

By the time he flops onto the bed, smug and glowing, Flora doesn’t even hesitate. She might not want to upset his burrito treatment of her, but regardless flings a leg over him until she’s straddling his waist with a breathless kind of urgency. Her hands cup his face, fingers curling with desperate, delighted affection, and she starts kissing him with no sense of decorum, fluttering little kisses across his cheeks, his nose, the corners of his smile, rapid and giddy and full of everything she can’t say fast enough. "You are the kindest," she mumbles against his skin between kisses, "and the sweetest," another kiss to his jaw, "and the best," this one pressed right between his brows, "and I am going to marry you so good." Her grin is radiant and ridiculous, her heart so full it could burst, and there is nothing in her world that isn't golden and perfect and entirely his fault.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

She's upon him before he's even dragged in a fresh breath after his words, the assault of her love a savage one, the way being tackled and licked by little puppies is. His face scrunches around each energetic kiss, eyes wrinkling shut beneath the onslaught, his hands wayward shields always too late to ward off her next strike. Of course, it's all half-hearted, happy to drown in this shower of affection and let it sweep him away like a flood breaking. The storm of her beckons his laughter until he's shaking beneath her with it, the sound rising until it snaps into silence, a true descent into joy that there's no melody for it.

He eventually gives up on trying to shield himself. As she presses her lips to his forehead and brandishes marriage like certainty, he goes on the attack. His hands clap gently against her cheeks, squishing them up and in as he holds her just above him. "No u," he says with all the extreme power of a well-timed reverse in Uno, distant cousin to ditto. Letting that land only long enough for dramatic effect, he leans up to press a kiss to her lips, hands easing up on her cheeks and turning into something far more tender. He holds her as long as his neck will put up with it, drawing on every last mote of bliss he feels and folding it into her mouth like he's passing her a note. One scrawled with words too simple to truly capture the feeling.

"I love you," he breathes like a sigh as he relents back into the bed, fingers tucking her wet hair back behind her ears. "More than anything I ever have before, more than anything else I ever could, I love you, Flora Grace Kaito-Taliesin." What a fool to think it could ever have been anything besides this world-shaking feeling, where the constraints of time don't seem to matter much, because he's sure his feelings will remain into eternity, wound against her again and again in every lifetime and form it takes. He's never been more certain of anything than her. A smile creeps in slow and careful through the seriousness of his adoration, gaze cradling her like something sacred.

"I must warn you though, that if you continue to straddle me, I have no intention of either of us leaving this room the rest of today."

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

As Kai squishes her cheeks, Flora puckers her lips obligingly, exaggerated and theatrical as a child mimicking a fish, her kissy-mouth twitching with repressed giggles as she shifts them side to side with every wet smooch that lands. She only stops when his lips find hers for real, the press of his mouth softening the silliness into something far gentler, something that glows warm and golden through every inch of her as if her very bones could light up with it. And when he says those words—I love you, breathed like a promise woven between heartbeats—something blooms inside her, wide and aching and radiant, as if her chest were a garden cracked open in full sun.

She could live a thousand lives and never get tired of hearing it, never get used to the way his voice wraps around her name like it was spun from thread he’d chosen himself. And when he the middle name he’d gifted her back when he was still chasing her heart with something shy and sparking in his grin, she rolls her eyes with a soundless laugh, all affection and adoration and the kind of disbelief that comes from being loved this much.

Leaning in, she presses her nose softly to his, breathing in the warmth between them, letting the nearness of him soak into her like sunlight. When she pulls back, it’s only just enough to bring the molten copper of his eyes into focus, the rest of her world falling away like it always does when he looks at her like this. "I want it to be you," she whispers, voice soft and reverent as a prayer. "Until the end of my days." Her smile tilts mischievous then, the corner of her mouth curling with something brighter and livelier. "Longer than that, actually. I’m gonna haunt you until you join me in Mort's realm, or until I find some way to claw myself back to life again." She grins, wicked and sincere, and the look that follows is every bit the echo of wedding vows in the same way his words earlier had been an echo of a proposal. "It’s only ever going to be you."

And just as the moment threatens to crest into something too sweet to breathe around for breath, her mouth twists with all the delight of a woman who is very much not planning on letting him rest. Still straddling him, she sits up with slow, teasing grace, her gaze never leaving his as her hands find the knot of the towel. With a practiced flick she undoes it, letting the fabric fall away like a curtain at the opening of a play, revealing her still-damp skin, flushed and freckled and bare save for the soaked underwear he'd never quite gotten around to removing. One brow arches high as she meets his gaze with a sly smile, mischief crackling in every line of her body as she takes his hand and places it firmly on her hip, thumb grazing over his knuckles with all the gravity of a dare. Then, leaning forward so her breath tickles the shell of his ear, she murmurs, syrup-slow and sultry, "Because of how contagious toowellfuckedtoeverwalkagainitis is..." Her voice drops to a whisper so low it’s practically a purr. "I wouldn't risk using your hands."


~FIN

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3