am I stitching up seams, or pulling on triggers?

flora

Flora huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes as though he’s being particularly obtuse. "No, you haven’t," she fires back with mock exasperation, grin curving as she nudges him. "Because someone up and left too soon last time." It's teasingly said, if only because not lingering had been an implicit part of being fuck-buddies back then, as evidenced by the fact that lingering this time, is what had led them to this place.

At the mention of spirits, she nods, curls bouncing as if the matter were obvious. "Absolutely they’ll accept bribes. I'm making them shrines in the house, little ones tucked around for offerings. That’s part of the quest." Her grin turns knowing, already picturing the coin, trinkets, or bottles Jack might try to palm off on them just to avoid their antics.

Then, softly, her cheek finds the curve of his shoulder again, eyes drifting shut as the sheets and his warmth pull her under. After all their talking, all the sharp edges and sudden lurches, she half-expects the floor to give way, that this fragile steadiness will crumble. Surely it couldn’t be so simple, couldn’t be as easy as wanting it enough. But for now it is. For now, she lets herself sink against him, breath easing into quiet surrender, and believes—just for this moment—that wanting it is enough.

you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!