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
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
