is this the end of all the endings?
Flora snorts, eyebrows rising as she fixes him with an adoring but skeptical look that’s all really, babe? "How does it help to poison test my food after I’ve clearly eaten some of it?" she asks, hands on her hips like she might be preparing to lecture him. But the corners of her mouth betray her, twitching up even as she tries to stay stern. Nibbling her bottom lip, she tilts her head and adds, "Any other humble duties you've been performing that I should know about?"
At his remark about saggy tits, she huffs, tossing a playful glare over her shoulder as she scrambles for the ladder. "Beggars can’t be choosers!" she calls, voice bright with laughter as she clambers easily up to the deck of the Sugartide. Peeking over the railing, she waits, smugly curious to see how Wonder-Man plans to scale the ladder with fruit strapped to his side like some kind of tropical warrior-satchel.
When he tosses her citrus tit back up at her, she catches it with a giggled "Wh—?" of surprise, but her amusement quickly stalls as she sees him begin to undo his belt. Her brows shoot up. "Jumping the gun a little, aren’t we?" she murmurs, thinking she was about to get a show far sooner than anticipated, only to watch the careful precision of his plan unfold. Her smile does too, delighted and impressed as the belt cinches the bag of fruit to his hip, freeing his hands for the climb.
She steps back to give him room as he ascends, but she doesn’t stop watching, not for a second. The jungle behind him is still lush and alive, the vines humming softly in the wind, but all of it fades into a vibrant blur compared to the sight of him climbing over the railing. Shirtless and golden, mud-streaked and grinning, with the literal success of their regional quest hitched to his belt like some absurdly handsome trophy. Her heart stutters with something giddy and girlish, a full-body thrill of gods, that’s mine. She feels like she’s a teenager again and starstruck at the sight of her crush, only this time the crush is a man who looks like excitement and sunshine and is in love with her.
Flora applauds as Kaisel straightens, grinning wide and wild, and doesn’t hesitate for a second when he reaches for her shirt. She lets him peel her out of it easily, hands lifted in surrender, laughter still dancing in her throat. Her own hands go for his belt in tandem, deft fingers working it open and off, releasing the fruit in the process, which tumbles gently to the deck in a soft, citrusy clatter.
And then she’s pressing into him, close and unashamed, her skin slick with heat and jungle air as her fingers slide up into his messy, muddy hair. Her mouth finds his in a kiss that feels like relief, like the first breath after drowning, like something golden bursting at the edges of her chest. It’s joy and sunlight, youth and freedom, everything good and stupid and real.
At his remark about saggy tits, she huffs, tossing a playful glare over her shoulder as she scrambles for the ladder. "Beggars can’t be choosers!" she calls, voice bright with laughter as she clambers easily up to the deck of the Sugartide. Peeking over the railing, she waits, smugly curious to see how Wonder-Man plans to scale the ladder with fruit strapped to his side like some kind of tropical warrior-satchel.
When he tosses her citrus tit back up at her, she catches it with a giggled "Wh—?" of surprise, but her amusement quickly stalls as she sees him begin to undo his belt. Her brows shoot up. "Jumping the gun a little, aren’t we?" she murmurs, thinking she was about to get a show far sooner than anticipated, only to watch the careful precision of his plan unfold. Her smile does too, delighted and impressed as the belt cinches the bag of fruit to his hip, freeing his hands for the climb.
She steps back to give him room as he ascends, but she doesn’t stop watching, not for a second. The jungle behind him is still lush and alive, the vines humming softly in the wind, but all of it fades into a vibrant blur compared to the sight of him climbing over the railing. Shirtless and golden, mud-streaked and grinning, with the literal success of their regional quest hitched to his belt like some absurdly handsome trophy. Her heart stutters with something giddy and girlish, a full-body thrill of gods, that’s mine. She feels like she’s a teenager again and starstruck at the sight of her crush, only this time the crush is a man who looks like excitement and sunshine and is in love with her.
Flora applauds as Kaisel straightens, grinning wide and wild, and doesn’t hesitate for a second when he reaches for her shirt. She lets him peel her out of it easily, hands lifted in surrender, laughter still dancing in her throat. Her own hands go for his belt in tandem, deft fingers working it open and off, releasing the fruit in the process, which tumbles gently to the deck in a soft, citrusy clatter.
And then she’s pressing into him, close and unashamed, her skin slick with heat and jungle air as her fingers slide up into his messy, muddy hair. Her mouth finds his in a kiss that feels like relief, like the first breath after drowning, like something golden bursting at the edges of her chest. It’s joy and sunlight, youth and freedom, everything good and stupid and real.
my broken bones are mending
