flora
Flora bears the full weight of Kaisel's enthusiasm with a long-suffering sigh that is so exaggerated it borders on parody, lashes lowering as if she is counting to ten for patience she absolutely does not need, because the truth of it hums too brightly under her skin to hide for long, a spark of mischief already breaking through the cracks as she watches him soak up her praise like sunlight. Gods, she adores how he meets her where she is, how every playful offering she makes is caught and flung back twice as bold, twice as warm, the kind of energy that never asks her to dim herself, only to keep going, keep spiralling.
When she makes a show of trying to dash away, it is half a joke and half instinct, laughter already curling in her chest before she is pulled back into heat and presence and that undeniable gravity he has over her, and she is acutely, traitorously aware of how hot he is, not just with the fire nearby but with the way he exists in her space, solid and real and impossible to ignore. The kiss pressed noisily to her cheek is more ridiculous than it is sultry, all sound and affection, but it still sends warmth flooding through her, settling somewhere deep and satisfied, her smile breaking free before she can stop it.
When he steps back, she turns slowly to face him, letting the firelight catch her just so, eyes sharpening into something vixen-bright, all intrigue and coy invitation threaded with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how she is being seen and by who. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at the suggestion offered, though, choosing instead to lean fully into the moment, planting one hand on her hip while the other rises to tap thoughtfully at her chin, head tilting as if she is genuinely considering it, lips pursed in mock seriousness. "Noooo," she says at last, voice smooth and playful, "no, that is absolutely not the password to the pillow fort." Her smile curves, wicked and delighted, gaze never leaving his. "But you can try again," she adds, lifting her fingers to count it out in the air. "Three guesses. After that, you are locked out."
When she makes a show of trying to dash away, it is half a joke and half instinct, laughter already curling in her chest before she is pulled back into heat and presence and that undeniable gravity he has over her, and she is acutely, traitorously aware of how hot he is, not just with the fire nearby but with the way he exists in her space, solid and real and impossible to ignore. The kiss pressed noisily to her cheek is more ridiculous than it is sultry, all sound and affection, but it still sends warmth flooding through her, settling somewhere deep and satisfied, her smile breaking free before she can stop it.
When he steps back, she turns slowly to face him, letting the firelight catch her just so, eyes sharpening into something vixen-bright, all intrigue and coy invitation threaded with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how she is being seen and by who. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at the suggestion offered, though, choosing instead to lean fully into the moment, planting one hand on her hip while the other rises to tap thoughtfully at her chin, head tilting as if she is genuinely considering it, lips pursed in mock seriousness. "Noooo," she says at last, voice smooth and playful, "no, that is absolutely not the password to the pillow fort." Her smile curves, wicked and delighted, gaze never leaving his. "But you can try again," she adds, lifting her fingers to count it out in the air. "Three guesses. After that, you are locked out."
i scream for whatever it's worth
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
