is this the end of all the endings?
The way he unravels beneath her is immediate and glorious, the sharp gasp, the helpless laughter, the full-body betrayal of composure that has her dissolving into laughter of her own, bright and wicked and entirely unrepentant as she clings just enough to keep him there a second longer, revelling in the way something so small—just her breath, her mouth—can undo him completely, can turn him from steady and certain into this flailing, breathless mess beneath her, and gods if that isn’t her favourite thing about him, that softness, that vulnerability he doesn’t even try to hide from her, that he lets her see and touch and toy with like this.
When he stills, gasping, she’s already watching him with a grin that borders on feral, utterly pleased with herself, and the look she gives him as he starts listing off her supposed flaws is sharp enough to cut, though it’s all teeth and laughter underneath, her brows lifting in slow, deliberate warning as if daring him to push it too far. Still, she huffs, rolling her eyes as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder, settling into the mess of sheets he’s left her in. "Oh, well good," she says, voice dry but satisfied, "as long as we’re on the same page." Tyrnnical maybe, but fat never.
Flora barely has time to track the shift in him before she sees it—that glint in his eye, the curve of his mouth—and something in her narrows instantly, suspicion flaring just a second too late as he lunges, the sharp crack of his hand against her making her squeal, bright and startled, her body jolting as she immediately reaches for him, fingers grasping for purchase that isn’t there as he dances just out of reach like he knows exactly what kind of chaos he’s just invited. "Kaisel—" she starts, but it’s already too late. The pillow he lobs at her is hurled back immediately, her aim shifting at the last second as she throws it not at him but at the door, the soft thud of it hitting enough to block his easy escape as she pushes herself upright in the tangled sheets, curls wild, eyes narrowed in delighted vengeance.
"Of course our baby won’t scream," she fires back, breathless but certain, her chin lifting slightly with the confidence of it. "I’ll quest so that it doesn’t." And then her expression shifts, something merciless and playful sliding into place as she raises a brow at him, the smile that follows slow and knowing as she tilts her head just slightly. "Or," she adds, her voice dipping into something softer, more suggestive, "we just keep the baby away from you, since you know..you’re the reason for my screams 99% percent of the time." Her brows bounce once, deliberate and teasing.
When he stills, gasping, she’s already watching him with a grin that borders on feral, utterly pleased with herself, and the look she gives him as he starts listing off her supposed flaws is sharp enough to cut, though it’s all teeth and laughter underneath, her brows lifting in slow, deliberate warning as if daring him to push it too far. Still, she huffs, rolling her eyes as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder, settling into the mess of sheets he’s left her in. "Oh, well good," she says, voice dry but satisfied, "as long as we’re on the same page." Tyrnnical maybe, but fat never.
Flora barely has time to track the shift in him before she sees it—that glint in his eye, the curve of his mouth—and something in her narrows instantly, suspicion flaring just a second too late as he lunges, the sharp crack of his hand against her making her squeal, bright and startled, her body jolting as she immediately reaches for him, fingers grasping for purchase that isn’t there as he dances just out of reach like he knows exactly what kind of chaos he’s just invited. "Kaisel—" she starts, but it’s already too late. The pillow he lobs at her is hurled back immediately, her aim shifting at the last second as she throws it not at him but at the door, the soft thud of it hitting enough to block his easy escape as she pushes herself upright in the tangled sheets, curls wild, eyes narrowed in delighted vengeance.
"Of course our baby won’t scream," she fires back, breathless but certain, her chin lifting slightly with the confidence of it. "I’ll quest so that it doesn’t." And then her expression shifts, something merciless and playful sliding into place as she raises a brow at him, the smile that follows slow and knowing as she tilts her head just slightly. "Or," she adds, her voice dipping into something softer, more suggestive, "we just keep the baby away from you, since you know..you’re the reason for my screams 99% percent of the time." Her brows bounce once, deliberate and teasing.
my broken bones are mending
