is this the end of all the endings?
Flora meets his stare like it’s a challenge she fully intends to win, eyes widening just a touch too much, mouth twitching at the corners like she’s seconds away from laughing but absolutely refusing to break first, until the whole thing collapses under its own weight and she gives in anyway, pressing in closer with a soft huff of a sigh that sinks into his chest. Being this close to him smooths something out in her immediately, like all the restless, stretched-too-thin parts of her just...settle back into place without asking permission, and she leans into it without hesitation, tucking herself tighter against him as though she could make up for the lost time simply by refusing to leave an inch of space now.
"Mmm, that’s probably for the best," she murmurs about Danta and Asta, her voice warm where it presses into him, one shoulder lifting in a small shrug that shifts against his hold. "At least it’ll keep Asta out of trouble for a bit, and it’s not like they’ll mind the heat." Her fingers continue their slow, absent path along his side, the motion easy and distracted as she hums a soft, "That’s nice," at the mention of his weapon, entirely unbothered, entirely unaware that anything in this conversation is about to veer off a cliff.
And then it does.
Flora still suddenly; it’s immediate, total, the kind of stillness that snaps into place so fast it almost echoes, her hand pausing where it rests against him as her brows lifting in a slow, deliberate climb. Drawing back just enough to look at him properly, she fixes him with a stare that lands somewhere between incredulous and deeply unimpressed, though the edge of it still holds just enough playfulness to keep it from cutting.
Her head tilts to the side, curls shifting over her shoulder as she studies him like he’s just said something so outrageous she’s giving him one clean chance to explain himself. "Babe," she says, the word flat in a way that somehow says everything, her voice calm in that dangerous, deliberate way that means she’s very much awake now. "What were you doing that you thought you got her pregnant in the first place?"
"Mmm, that’s probably for the best," she murmurs about Danta and Asta, her voice warm where it presses into him, one shoulder lifting in a small shrug that shifts against his hold. "At least it’ll keep Asta out of trouble for a bit, and it’s not like they’ll mind the heat." Her fingers continue their slow, absent path along his side, the motion easy and distracted as she hums a soft, "That’s nice," at the mention of his weapon, entirely unbothered, entirely unaware that anything in this conversation is about to veer off a cliff.
And then it does.
Flora still suddenly; it’s immediate, total, the kind of stillness that snaps into place so fast it almost echoes, her hand pausing where it rests against him as her brows lifting in a slow, deliberate climb. Drawing back just enough to look at him properly, she fixes him with a stare that lands somewhere between incredulous and deeply unimpressed, though the edge of it still holds just enough playfulness to keep it from cutting.
Her head tilts to the side, curls shifting over her shoulder as she studies him like he’s just said something so outrageous she’s giving him one clean chance to explain himself. "Babe," she says, the word flat in a way that somehow says everything, her voice calm in that dangerous, deliberate way that means she’s very much awake now. "What were you doing that you thought you got her pregnant in the first place?"
my broken bones are mending
