Kaisel
Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can't be tamed
He waits, poised on the threshold of change—he'll either be cheering or charging in the next breath. The slow drop of her defenses gives him hope, but he's been tricked by the show of her before, so he does not yield to the temptation of early celebration. It tightens him though, muscles cording at the ready for a burst of something one way or another.
When correct at last lands, so pure and sweet to his ears, his grin overwhelms every other feature. Much like the Princess Bride, love is the answer. ”YES!” he crows, leaping into the air with one hand fisting up above him in a victory punch. The win is a relief that sinks in deeper than just competition would, because this had never been about besting her, but being with her. It’s why he’d have broken in—not for comfort, but for closeness. It’d been about knowing her too, even if he’d needed assistance to puzzle out the wide array of possibilities, the result of two professional yappers turning everything into an inside joke.
Without further hesitation, he proudly marches back to the entryway of Château Pillow Fort, and before he can tackle her down into it as she well and truly deserves for this trial, she beats him to it and snatches him immediately. Some strangled sound of surprise and knee-jerk protest cuts out before he smothers it with a laugh, surrending to the yank with a willing flop into the plush domain.”Ah,” he sighs with contentement, wriggling in deeper with a shoulder shimmy as he settles on his side, gaze cast up and rolling over her like a summer storm born of amber haze.
Despite him being the winner, which by all accounts he is every day he wakes up with her, she stands over him as if she’s the one that’s conquered something. The pose is absurd and absolutely delightful when worn by her, and he has no qualms with yielding her the gold, it looks far better on her anyway. ”I thought of that one!” he gasps, half rising from his sideways lounge with the force of the truth. He sinks back down though, laughter rich and endless now as she continues to list off other key words from moments they’ve had together. ”Maybe we turn one of those into a name,” he hums. ”Not sprinkles outright, but some, rendition. A code, maybe we’d only know baked into the name.” A secret shared just between them, which seems to be more of their foundation than he’s ever realized. Not due to stealth, necessarily, but because it all does became their own language.
As she reaches for his ring wristband, the humor settles, like honey finding its shape after spilling. His attention slowly drifts from the seaglass shine fighting against the orange glow and violet dark, slipping down to where her fingers trace. What she says lands with a weight that draws his breath shorter, smile softening from ridiculous to moved. Flicking his gaze back to hers, he reaches to tug her closer yet, dragging her to way he leans in for a kiss.
”So,” he breathes out slow after a moment. ”Is that why you kicked me out?” There might be war yet.
When correct at last lands, so pure and sweet to his ears, his grin overwhelms every other feature. Much like the Princess Bride, love is the answer. ”YES!” he crows, leaping into the air with one hand fisting up above him in a victory punch. The win is a relief that sinks in deeper than just competition would, because this had never been about besting her, but being with her. It’s why he’d have broken in—not for comfort, but for closeness. It’d been about knowing her too, even if he’d needed assistance to puzzle out the wide array of possibilities, the result of two professional yappers turning everything into an inside joke.
Without further hesitation, he proudly marches back to the entryway of Château Pillow Fort, and before he can tackle her down into it as she well and truly deserves for this trial, she beats him to it and snatches him immediately. Some strangled sound of surprise and knee-jerk protest cuts out before he smothers it with a laugh, surrending to the yank with a willing flop into the plush domain.”Ah,” he sighs with contentement, wriggling in deeper with a shoulder shimmy as he settles on his side, gaze cast up and rolling over her like a summer storm born of amber haze.
Despite him being the winner, which by all accounts he is every day he wakes up with her, she stands over him as if she’s the one that’s conquered something. The pose is absurd and absolutely delightful when worn by her, and he has no qualms with yielding her the gold, it looks far better on her anyway. ”I thought of that one!” he gasps, half rising from his sideways lounge with the force of the truth. He sinks back down though, laughter rich and endless now as she continues to list off other key words from moments they’ve had together. ”Maybe we turn one of those into a name,” he hums. ”Not sprinkles outright, but some, rendition. A code, maybe we’d only know baked into the name.” A secret shared just between them, which seems to be more of their foundation than he’s ever realized. Not due to stealth, necessarily, but because it all does became their own language.
As she reaches for his ring wristband, the humor settles, like honey finding its shape after spilling. His attention slowly drifts from the seaglass shine fighting against the orange glow and violet dark, slipping down to where her fingers trace. What she says lands with a weight that draws his breath shorter, smile softening from ridiculous to moved. Flicking his gaze back to hers, he reaches to tug her closer yet, dragging her to way he leans in for a kiss.
”So,” he breathes out slow after a moment. ”Is that why you kicked me out?” There might be war yet.
Let me see the good girl you wanted to be. All of my praise, only from me.
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
