I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
The sound of Kaisel's laughter reaches her before she fully registers the movement of it, and when she turns into it, the sight of him unravels something tender and unguarded in her chest that leaves her feeling almost dizzy with affection. Kaisel laughing like this looks like relief made visible, like a person rediscovering gravity after drifting for too long, and the way it breaks across his face softens every sharp edge the world has ever tried to carve into him. She sees not just joy but the courage it takes to let that joy exist without armour, the way his warmth spills outward in waves that invite rather than overwhelm, and she feels an almost undescribable gratitude for the kind of man he chooses to be. He looks radiant to her in that moment, not because of the auroras painting colour across his features or the ridiculous charm of his winter layers, but because he is open and real and laughing like someone who hasn't let the world erode their sense of joy.
When he leans down, she is already rising to meet him, her body answering before thought has time to intervene, one mittened hand and one bare sliding up to cradle his cheeks with a certainty that feels instinctive and grounding all at once. The kiss lands warm and fervent and imperfect in the way that only something utterly sincere can be, and when he begins to pull back, their foreheads still pressed together and breath mingling between them, she murmurs a quiet, "no—" and kisses him again, as though touch is the only language large enough to carry what she feels. The world narrows to the press of his mouth, the familiar heat of him against her, and the overwhelming urge to drag him down to their bed below deck where she could speak her love in gasps and sounds and the way her body knows his name better than words ever could, nearly has her tugging him toward the stairs.
When she finally pulls in a breath to let him speak, her cheeks are flushed from the cold and from the way his affection has settled so deeply into her that it leaves her almost dizzy. Her hands remain on his face, thumbs brushing along his jaw as if she needs the contact to stay upright in the world. "I want everything with you," she says, breathless but steady, the words carrying no drama because they don't need it. She pauses then, eyes searching his, her grip gentle but unyielding, and when she speaks again her voice softens into something even more intimate. "You’re my best friend." The words land with a quiet weight that feels heavier than any declaration she has ever made, because they carry trust and laughter and shared silence and the certainty that there is no version of her life that makes sense without him woven through it.
When Kaisel turns his attention to Spice with smug triumph, the little dragon chooses violence in the most dignified way possible, winding over with haughty precision before shoving her cool snoot up one leg of his trousers and releasing a pointed breath of frost that curls smugly up against his bare skin.
When he leans down, she is already rising to meet him, her body answering before thought has time to intervene, one mittened hand and one bare sliding up to cradle his cheeks with a certainty that feels instinctive and grounding all at once. The kiss lands warm and fervent and imperfect in the way that only something utterly sincere can be, and when he begins to pull back, their foreheads still pressed together and breath mingling between them, she murmurs a quiet, "no—" and kisses him again, as though touch is the only language large enough to carry what she feels. The world narrows to the press of his mouth, the familiar heat of him against her, and the overwhelming urge to drag him down to their bed below deck where she could speak her love in gasps and sounds and the way her body knows his name better than words ever could, nearly has her tugging him toward the stairs.
When she finally pulls in a breath to let him speak, her cheeks are flushed from the cold and from the way his affection has settled so deeply into her that it leaves her almost dizzy. Her hands remain on his face, thumbs brushing along his jaw as if she needs the contact to stay upright in the world. "I want everything with you," she says, breathless but steady, the words carrying no drama because they don't need it. She pauses then, eyes searching his, her grip gentle but unyielding, and when she speaks again her voice softens into something even more intimate. "You’re my best friend." The words land with a quiet weight that feels heavier than any declaration she has ever made, because they carry trust and laughter and shared silence and the certainty that there is no version of her life that makes sense without him woven through it.
When Kaisel turns his attention to Spice with smug triumph, the little dragon chooses violence in the most dignified way possible, winding over with haughty precision before shoving her cool snoot up one leg of his trousers and releasing a pointed breath of frost that curls smugly up against his bare skin.
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
