// Ring around the rosie - Pocket full of posie //
It's nice to finally have someone like this. Someone he doesn't doubt would show up for him, someone who needs and wants him to do the same. Someone willing to laugh when he wears a dress, and still talk about all the hard and messy shit. He doesn't feel like he's just a topping or a condiment with her, he's the whole meal—ketchup and the fries, sprinkles and the cupcake. It'd always been there with her, in each late night conversation or sun-lit saunter, this easy way of loving her, like he found someone he could fall into step with and he didn't even have to think or take a half-stride to do it.
He dips lower under the press of her leg, although it's a struggle with the fluid nature of the gown, managing somehow to shift around his skin too easily so that it ends up wrapping around his legs and tripping him under his own footholds and weight. He manages, not willing to let evening wear get between them, the simplest of all the things that have already tried. He loses himself in the sound of her happiness, all this unfiltered joy causing their smiles to bounce off each other, turning kissing into a fighting sport. "Obviously, you lying around with me will be mandatory in Floraopolois," he scoffs, because that'll be one of the first rules put into place if he has any say.
He relaxes into her further as this kiss comes with more sanity and control, the reverb of her comfort one he feels sink into his chest, resonating with his own. "I can't believe you wear this," he finally mutters, a touch exasperated as the gown keeps him from shifting completely. "Or that you let me wear it," he nearly accuses, gaze flicking off her to the gap against his chest. "C'mon," he grunts, rolling off and struggling, deeply struggling, to get to his feet. "Let's actually get comfortable instead of flopping around on the ground like a hot mess."
He dips lower under the press of her leg, although it's a struggle with the fluid nature of the gown, managing somehow to shift around his skin too easily so that it ends up wrapping around his legs and tripping him under his own footholds and weight. He manages, not willing to let evening wear get between them, the simplest of all the things that have already tried. He loses himself in the sound of her happiness, all this unfiltered joy causing their smiles to bounce off each other, turning kissing into a fighting sport. "Obviously, you lying around with me will be mandatory in Floraopolois," he scoffs, because that'll be one of the first rules put into place if he has any say.
He relaxes into her further as this kiss comes with more sanity and control, the reverb of her comfort one he feels sink into his chest, resonating with his own. "I can't believe you wear this," he finally mutters, a touch exasperated as the gown keeps him from shifting completely. "Or that you let me wear it," he nearly accuses, gaze flicking off her to the gap against his chest. "C'mon," he grunts, rolling off and struggling, deeply struggling, to get to his feet. "Let's actually get comfortable instead of flopping around on the ground like a hot mess."
Kaisel
// I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
