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latinasmoak · 3 years

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the sweetest life (and the loving is easy when you’re with me)

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rating: mature

tags: no warnings, mutual pining, lol slow burn? what slow burn?, I don’t know her, not actually unrequited love

Chapter Three: Strawberry Crème Brûlée p. 2

He had been hesitant to try it. Her strawberry creme brulee.

His appetite had yet to make an appearance and the truth was he was dreading her news, dreading to be told what he already knew to be true, that she was taken, and completely out of his reach.

Yet he couldn’t bear to disappoint her, not when she looked at him so eagerly, so expectantly. So he cracked the rose gold crust, the sound a crystal clear snap of sugar that whetted the appetite and reluctantly dipped his spoon in.

That first spoonful was ambrosia on his tongue. His reluctance to eat was never because he was fearful that it would be anything less than perfection, but even now he feels a fool for resisting something as delicious as this. The strawberry creme melted in the mouth, soft as velvet and sublime. The caramelized crust added a slight burnt bitterness needed to temper all the sweetness. One spoonful wasn't enough and Colin soon found himself devouring the entirety of his creme brulee.

He couldn’t explain it, but something about Penelope’s food comforted him. The way he felt when he ate something she created, it was a warmth that reached his very soul. Before, Colin would have brushed the thought away. He would have gone so far as to claim that eating anything delicious would elicit the same feeling. Now he knew the truth, it was Penelope. She infused so much of herself, of her joy, of her love, that her food was enough to make a person feel cherished and taken care of. With every spoonful of the strawberry creme, he was reminded that she made this for him and he felt so lucky.

Then she went and moaned, and Colin felt a punch of lust hit him fast and without mercy. Penelope’s sweet and innocent appreciation of her own creation had set his whole body aflame. He couldn’t help but imagine her making that sound again, only this time with him being the sole reason for the moan. Her breathy sigh as she finished her spoonful of the creme brulee had Colin hardening so fast, he felt dizzy with want. He glared at the dessert, nothing should elicit those sounds from her except for him. He should be on his knees, worshiping her as he drowned himself at the apex of her thighs. It should be him.

But it won't be.

She was already taken. He was too late, and it was agony. Everything he just imagined would be done by someone else. That fucking bastard would be the one on his knees, and his name would be the one she would shout out. The mere thought doused the fire within him faster than ice water. His fury had him gripping onto the counter. His rage directed at the man who had the audacity to come and grab his girl while he was gone. Yet however much he wanted to pummel him, the majority of his rage was inward. He was so wrong, to assume that nothing would change, that she would always be there waiting for him to come home. It wasn’t as if she was his wife, with a ring as proof that he would always come home to her. Of course she would live her life. Of course she would seek her happiness, for companionship, for love.

He was such a fool.

And now he was paying for it.

It wasn’t long before Penelope noticed that something was wrong and Colin thanked heaven and earth that she wasn’t privy to the mess going inside his head. She looked at him so sweetly, with so much concern in her eyes he felt himself go weak. His eyes closed in contentment with the mere brush of her hand on his forehead.

Why did he have to lose her? Why did he have to be so blind?

She questioned him, wanting the answers he didn’t even know how to share, but he didn't hesitate.

Something in him took over and all that came out is the most important question that would guide him in regards to how he should treat Penelope Featherington.

“Are you happy?” he asked, voice ragged with intensity. Colin’s eyes burned with the need to know exactly how she felt.

Whatever Penelope was expecting, it was obvious from her reaction that this was not it. “What?!”

Colin closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth as he gathered the bravery necessary for this inquisition. He opened them and this time he used her grip on his hands to his advantage, bringing them up to rest against his chest. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating for her.

“Are you happy? With him? ”

The snarl that escaped him would have been embarrassing under normal circumstances but Colin was past caring about pretenses. This might be his one and only chance. Surely however long they'd been seeing each other wasn’t enough to build any foundation... right? And could a month or maybe two, really compare with years?

“Colin? You aren’t making any sense! Who are you talking about?”

Penelope gripped his hands tighter and his brow furrowed at the confusion swirling around in her vibrant blue eyes.

“I saw you with him, yesterday. I just wanted to surprise you, Pen.” Colin huffed as he thought about how that turned out.

“It wasn’t my intention to interrupt any moment, and I left pretty quickly…” seeing the hug had been hard enough, Colin didn’t want to imagine how he would have felt if he had stuck around and seen them kiss. “I just want to make sure that you’re happy Penelope. You deserve everything your heart desires.”

Colin was deathly afraid of her answer. Afraid to have to come to grips with the reality that he really had missed his chance. Yet for Penelope he would learn to deal with it. Her happiness mattered more to him than his.

It didn’t take long for Penelope to connect the dots, he obviously had come to the very wrong conclusion that Phillip was her boyfriend. Seeing as he was the only man to have entered her flat in the past few days, present company excluded. Phillip Crane as her boyfriend. A laughable concept, as if anyone could compare to Colin Bridgerton. He was it for her. He’d had a hold on her heart for so long she couldn't even remember the days when he didn't. Even when she had tried to date in the past, it had never gone past the first few dates. Every date had become a game of comparison. Not tall enough, not funny enough, too rude and too arrogant, the list was never ending and it was never fair. It wasn’t fair to the strangers who’s only real flaw was not being the man she was already in love with and it wasn’t fair to her to attempt to date when she hadn’t given up. She hadn’t allowed herself to kill the hope still flickering in her heart.

So she connected the dots, but it absolutely terrified her, to even attempt to understand why the knowledge of her having a boyfriend wrecked him so. Did she dare to infer that he was jealous? And if he was, was it because he felt he could lose a friend? Or something more? She didn’t know what to think, but she couldn’t let him go thinking for another second that she was dating another man. Not even to tease or torment him. Her heart rejected the thought of being tied to somebody else, even if it was only in his mind.

“Colin, there is no him. Not like that. He’s a friend, and I was letting him taste the sweets I was making for his girlfriend.”

Penelope figured it was a matter of time before he would find out the significance of who the girlfriend was, but Penelope was not about to break her vow of secrecy now.

Penelope gripped his hand tighter. She was scared-- so scared that this was about to blow up in her face but he had given her an opening and she was going to take it. Something inside of her urged her to be bold. He’d just said she deserved everything her heart desired and there had never been a greater desire in her heart than him.

Penelope took a deep breath and looked up at him, she tried to feel comfort in the knowledge that she could feel his heart thrumming in his chest. Surely that wasn’t insignificant. Be daring, be bold.

Oh Colin, please don’t break my heart.

“I couldn’t be bothered with a boyfriend…if it wasn’t you Colin.”

A watery chuckle escaped her. Her eyes threatened to well up with tears. There, I said it. There’s no going back now. Her whole body was strung up tight, the words just floating out there and it felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from her chest, now that she no longer had her longest secret hidden. Her anxiety had her spitting out more words to fill the silence.

“It’s always been you, and I’m sorry if this ruins our friendship but I-”

Colin’s lips were on hers before she could even finish her confession and everything else suddenly ceased to matter except for this moment.

Colin Bridgerton was kissing her.

Colin Bridgerton.

Was kissing.

Her.

His hands cupped her face so gently, leaving Penelope dazed. She felt warm, starting in the pit of her belly and spreading, as if his lips on hers were the switch to turning her body alive . She gasped when he nipped at her bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue and she moaned when he took that gasp as an invitation to taste her. She allowed herself to taste him back.

It was hard to believe it was real. That moment; it was everything Penelope had ever dreamed of, only better. Because even her imagination wasn’t good enough to imagine the feel of Colin’s slightly chapped lips against hers. She never knew that he would taste faintly of strawberries mixed with something that was uniquely him. She never imagined that he would move his hands from her face down, down, down to her waist. Slowly spreading a trail of fire wherever his fingertips touched. Penelope’s daydreaming was never this vivid, and never this maddening and when he finally moved his mouth to kiss her cheek, before finding the pulse at her throat, Penelope was already a bundle of nerves ready to explode. Her panting breaths the only sign that she was still breathing. Was she dreaming? Colin sucked at her pulse and Penelope’s knees went weak. Not that it mattered, Colin was there to hold her up.

This was better than anything Penelope had ever dreamed of, because it was real.

This was real.

Colin, there is no him.

I couldn’t be bothered with a boyfriend…if it wasn’t you.

It’s always been you.

Each sentence she’d uttered was a bomb bursting into the agonizing fantasy he had begun to build from the moment he walked in on that embrace, and shredding it to pieces. His heart lifted with every second that passed by, the dread that had clung so strongly to his very being, chased away by her declarations. Because that's exactly what they were, Colin wouldn’t pretend otherwise, for some unknown reason, the gods were smiling down at him, despite all his flaws and mistakes, they somehow deemed him worthy enough to be on the receiving end of Penelope Featherington’s love.

He would not waste it. This opportunity, handed to him on a silver platter.

If Penelope deemed him worthy enough to be the champion to carry her heart, he wasn’t going to be the one to let her down.

It was only when she began to mention nonsense about ruining friendships that Colin foolishly realized he had yet to say anything. Words were simply not enough. He had to have her, had to claim her as his.

He couldn’t let her finish, he couldn’t wait a second more. In fact it was rather remarkable that he’d waited this long. He had to taste her now.

So when he held her face in the palms of his hands, and he leaned down to reach her lips, he felt a sense of rightness so strong, he had to smile. His thumbs stroked her cheeks while he teased and licked her soft lips, finally getting the chance to bite at her lower lip the way he had imagined before. She gasped so beautifully and he finally got what he wanted. A taste. She was so sweet, the flavor of strawberry creme she had eaten not that long ago still present. If strawberries weren’t his favorite flavor before, they were now. She was perfect and he felt overwhelmed at the contentment spreading through his entire being. It was at this very moment that he realized that everything he thought he knew about kissing was a lie.What had always been a fun activity, a stepping stone to the next pleasurable act was never so compelling that it felt as if his soul was being branded as hers. He could kiss her forever, and he would still be completely captivated by every little move and sound Penelope made. Every gasp, every moan. It would never be enough, he would always want more.

When the pesky little thing called oxygen was needed for the both of them, Colin was reluctant to stop kissing her, so he moved from her lips to her cheek, a quick brush of his lips before he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He smiled to himself, pleased at how out of breath she was, at how closely pressed her body was to his. He missed hearing her little moans so he went back to sucking at her pulse point, holding onto her tighter as she tilted her head making it more accessible for him to continue. He didn’t know when Penelope had gotten her hands into his hair but all of a sudden he felt a small tug and his head snapped up from the hickey he was leaving behind. His eyes quickly connected with her piercingly blue ones, dilated with pure want.

A dopey smile spread across Colin’s face at the sight.

He’d done that. He had put that look upon her face. He was the reason her lips were swollen, he was the reason she was flushed and panting. Him.

“You are so fucking beautiful Pen.”

Colin leaned his head down so that his forehead could press against hers, simply breathing her in, letting them both calm down.

“You are so beautiful, and you are mine.”

He lifted his head and grabbed her chin with right hand, tilting her head up so that he could stare into her eyes again. He didn’t want a single misunderstanding to occur.

He wouldn’t lie to her, and tell her that he always knew it would be her. He didn’t. A few days ago, this very moment wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but that was then and this was now.

He was different.

Awake.

Aware.

No pretty lies were needed.

“You, Penelope Featherington, are mine.”

Colin brushed his thumb against her still-swollen lips and grinned, pleased to be making his current declaration..

“And I am yours. All yours.”

Maybe it wasn’t love, but Colin already knew he was falling.

It was terrifying, it was exhilarating and best of all, it was real.

Penelope’s hopeful smile grew and grew, and she laughed, as tears of joy started running down her face.

It was real. It was all real.

|| AO3 ||

#Polin Fics #Polin #Colin Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #Colin x Penelope #Bridgerton Fics #Bridgerton #fic: the sweetest life #boom now we are all caught up!#we'll see when chapter four is up lmao #ale's fics

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blue-bird-kny · 3 years

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Day 9: Peppermint Smooches

This was purely indulgent, I love peppermint flavored things and I love cooking/baking so enjoy this as you please~Amanda

P.S: For those who don’t know flan is a delicious dessert made of milk and caramel, my family is cuban and that is a staple dessert at parties.

Reblogs are always appreciated~

Warning: N/a unless you aren’t a fan of sweets,

( 1.2k+ words)

↳{In which you spoil your boyfriend with various of your favorite holiday treats for almost an entire month}

The house smelled of candy and sweets, the overwhelming scent of baked goods pouring out of every crevice and window. You hummed happily in the kitchen wearing a matching mittens and apron set, both adorned with cheesy gingerbread men over white cloth complete with satin red ribbons to tie around your neck and waist. You mixed together a sticky batter of cinnamon and sugar, tablespoons of spiced rums and vanilla’s all combined together to create a decadent toffee cake smothered in a bitter brandy sauce; your mouth watered and taste buds buzzed in anticipation of eating this dessert.

The holiday season was your playing field; starting December 1st all the way to the new year, you stuffed your friends with delectable sweets, everyday a different flavor and style, and this year you had another special someone to fatten up. Just as you set the pan on the counter to cool, faint footsteps could be heard waddling their way into your kitchen, “Why does it smell like Santa threw up” Giyuu’s nose crinkled as he appeared in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame. “Well Sir, you’ve just entered a battle zone of my own creation. Pick your weapon, flour or milk?” you joked, setting the red mittens aside in favor of resting against your boyfriend, your arms wrapping around his waist. “Carrots” he randomly picks in an attempt to be funny, “What are you..? Never mind, come taste my cake” you ushered him in to the kitchen, carefully slicing the browned food, blowing on the piece before shoving it into Giyuu awaiting hole.

He chewed slowly as you anxiously awaited his reaction, “Too sweet or too bitter? I did go a little heavy on the liquor” you spireled nit-picking your own desert. Finally, Giyuu’s cool voice spoke “Nothing’s wrong with it, it's perfect. Could I have another piece?” he asked, mouth agape as a low ‘ahh’ sound traveled out. You giggled scooping another slice for him to try; Giyuu savored every bite you pushed his way, but oh how unaware he was of the tooth-rotting month he was about to partake in.

You made dishes of all sorts: gingerbread, strawberry, all sorts of chocolate and nutty arrangements, but nothing compared to the minty sweet that was peppermint. While children wait for gifts in December, you waited year-round to exploit the festive flavor, creating all sorts of pairings to try. You incorporate it into practically anything; topping your whipped creams with crushed bits or mixing them into batter and frosting, using larger pieces for brittle or to freeze with white chocolate, and not a morning passed when you didn’t melt the striped candy to add the extract to your coffee. It was an unhealthy holiday obsession you were far from ashamed of and, unfortunately for him, your Hashira boyfriend had to endure every bit of it.

You were well into three weeks of your cavity-ridden adventures when you found yourself putting together packages of sweets for your friends, each filled with tarts and truffles all wrapped in a hand-tied bow- and of course, this meant you had to include some peppermint treat as well. You browsed through dozens of cookbooks and tested numerous flavor profiles, until you settled with a classic chocolate-peppermint cookie- simple,sweet, and irresistible.

You got to work mixing the dry and wet ingredients, popping them into the fire quickly so as to keep the dark cookie dough at a proper temperature. You melted semi-sweet chocolate chips, mixing in cups of heavy cream to help keep the chocolate smooth and rich to create spread, finally crushing whole sticks of candy canes to garnish the treat. “All done” you sighed, pulling the final ribbon together in a taught knot, a line of baskets ready to be dropped off with your friends the next morning. Your face scrunched together in a loud yawn, the sun already setting outside, “guess I got a little carried away” you chuckled nervously, “You think? You were in there for five hours” a deep disembodied voice answered from behind you.

“Aww so are you saying you missed me, Yuu’” you teased, turning to face the man whose black hair tumbled around his shoulders in the perfect bedhead. He grunted as a response, effortlessly peering over your shorter stature into the kitchen. He was always amazed at your impressive cleanliness because no matter what you baked it always appeared as though a one-man baking championship had not just gone down in there. “What’s with all this?” he asked referring to your gifts, “Just some holiday cheer for our friends, I’ve barely given them any goods this year” you exaggerated as if you hadn’t made Giyuu deliver a plate of pecan pie and flan you’d learned from a foreign cook book to his last Hashira meeting like it was an office christmas party. He noticed the tags hanging on each bow, reading the first one he saw, “Sanemi-san” he grimaced, “Everyone gets one?” “Yes everyone gets one” you started, “and he happens to appreciate my cooking” you added already knowing that there was only one person who could warrant such response from the pillar.

A twinge of jealousy struck Giyuu as he imagine your bubbly self dropping of your hard work into the hands of that brute when you called for him rolling your eyes, “I saved the best one for you though” you held the cookie up to his lips, the oh-so familiar red and white sprinkled across the top. Without a moment's hesitation Giyuu took the desert into his mouth, the silky smooth cocoa cookie coating his taste buds. You watched in delight as the one you loved most enjoyed your favorite hobby when suddenly you noticed the smallest twitch in his eye, so miniscule you almost missed it. “What wrong? Yuu’, if you don’t like it, it's okay” you comforted, eyes softening as you peered up into his crystal orbs.

“This is it” Giyuu thought defeated and slightly upset that he slipped up, “I’m going to have to tell her” he took a deep breath, his confession coming out firm as he said “I hate peppermint”. You blinked in confusion, trying to piece together how he stomached practically every edible thing you pushed his way for the last month. “Wait, you mean the whole time you hated peppermint” you asked with furrowed brows, “yet still ate everything I made...why? I wouldn’t have been upset” Giyuu spoke as if his reasoning was the most obvious in the world, “It makes you happy and I didn’t want to take that away from you”

Butterflies fluttered in your chest at his words, so simple and genuine yet they made you feel like the luckiest person with the best boyfriend. “Giyuu you make me happy, with or without the peppermint” you jumped onto your tiptoes, leaning forward to press a long, passionate kiss on Giyuu surprised lips. He recovered quickly though, his arms slithered around your waist and into your hair, “You taste like peppermint” he stated after pulling away. “Sorry” you laughed embarrassingly, the pads of his finger brushing against the plush skin “From your lips, peppermint is my favorite flavor” he whispered, delving in to get another taste.

Holiday Event Masterlist

#fluffy feelings holiday event #demon slayer x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu fluff #Giyuu x reader fluff

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morepeachyogurt · 3 years

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we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt.

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

taglist- @royalpenelope @criminalmindsvibez @haleymalaffey @scandinavian-punk @abitcriminalminds @hellskitchensmurdock @criminalmindzz2 @rosesonmyheart @ssaemxlyprentxss @reidrights if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the survey is here

#dkakakska I forgot to tag this now it won’t show up 💔💔#temily #Tara lewis #emily prentiss #criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #temily fic #lucy's creations #mine!

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x0401x · 4 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Q&A

Simple Questions for Seigi-kun (Parts 1 and 2)

Thank you very much for these questions from several people. We had Seigi-kun take a look at everyone’s questions right away and answer as many as he could! Not all of them can be published, but please enjoy Seigi-kun’s answers!

Q.: Seigi-kun looks good with black short hair, but is there any hairstyle that he looks up to? It does not seem to have changed much from when he was a child, but there is this impression that people often do college debuts, so here goes this simple question. The photo on the cover of volume 6 was wonderful. His set-back hair looked very good on him. (Black Short Hair-san)

A.: Hello! I guess it’s the first time I was told that my hair style looks good on me aside from Nakata-san and Richard; thank you very much! As for an image I look up to, huuum, there wasn’t any in particular when I was little, but nowadays, I look up to the two I just mentioned. They’re of different vectors and just really cool! Ah… this is embarrassing, so please keep it a secret. I have the feeling that they already know, though.

Q.: Any words you want to send to your past self from before meeting Richard? (Inu-san)

A.: “Nakata Seigi, you might be reckless, but you technically haven’t done anything wrong! Probably! Hum, you’re mostly thoughtless! But you’re not mistaken! If you see someone being attacked in a park, don’t hesitate to shout and go help him! Also, you might be compensated for doing your best at cooking. Good on you.”

Eh? There’s something from Richard too? “Seigi-kun, you are already passionate enough, but make sure to take a better look at your surroundings. Make sure to cherish yourself. Also, if you get invited to work at a TV station in Shibuya, make sure to just accept it.” Ah, yeah, yeah! I’m also counting on myself for that last one.

Q.: I am a college student just like Seigi-kun. When I have free time, I play video games, read books and talk about fun things with my friends. Seigi-kun, what do you do? Do you read books about gemstones and study after all? (Anzu-san)

A.: Hello! Indeed, during my free time when I didn’t have classes, there were times when I’d do self-study and learn about stones, but when I got together with my friends in the cafeteria or lounge, we’d get roused up over trivial talk. Everyone had a rough idea of the timing they should focus on their studies, so when I think about it nowadays, that might’ve been a “let’s make racket while we can” kind of mood. Looking back on it now, it was fun.

Q.: I am bound to fail every time I make sweets. If there is any trick to making sweets, please tell me. (Satou-san from the Heavens)

A.: Aah… I feel like someone’s already asked me a similar question. Ahem. T-That’s right! First things first, let’s try to stop treating “sweets” like they’re special! I guess this is the trick I can think of. They’re simply like an arithmetic test or a chemistry experiment; it just so happens that, if you mix up the set ingredients, a chemical reaction occurs and you reach the same results. If you lead it to the decided answer, you’ll manage to make something tasty, is all. Try to stick strictly to the recipe, and if it still doesn’t turn out right, I think it’s good to do a reflection on where you might’ve gotten it wrong. Eh…? If it doesn’t go well even then…? Aah… I’m gonna leave my phone number here, so if you have anything you want to eat… Eh? Richard, you want me to knock it off? That’s right. It’s not like I always have time. I almost did something irresponsible. Sorry. I’m cheering for you! See ya!

Q.: Where do you start washing your body from? (Yukinekoya-san)

A.: I’ve never thought about that~! It’s from the hair, but that’s with shampoo and doesn’t count as my body, so… *moves his body as if scrubbing it* I start washing from the neck and ears! But what’re you gonna do by asking that?

Q.: What’s your favorite meat? (Reihenbach-san)

A.: If its for Japanese curry, pork! If it’s for Sri Lanka’s curry, fish or chicken! If it’s for sukiyaki, cattle! I love all kinds of meat! But what flashes in my mind regarding “my favorite meat” is the meat and potato stew that Hiromi used to make, so I guess it’s gotta be beef. There wasn’t much meat in it, so I was able to taste it rather well.

Q.: I am a middle school teacher; Seigi-kun, who was the teacher that left the biggest impression on you? Please leave out Richard-sensei! (Kikuchi-san)

A.: Ah, that question is relatively easy to answer. It’s someone named Yamazaki-sensei, who was my class teacher in high school. He’s a graduate from the faculty of economics at Kasaba University, and he’d compliment me at random. Like, “You sure are working hard” or, “You’re so smart”. So I got cheeky, admired him, and when I told him I wanted to be like him, he said, “Then, how about you aim for my alma mater?” and I replied with, “Yes!”… Since Kasaba is a private institution, it was just a suggestion where I was getting ahead with my feelings, but though Hiromi made a bitter face, she wasn’t against it. Maybe she thought it was better than having her son say that he wanted to start working after graduating from middle school. Sensei was transferred when I was in my first year in university, but I hope he’s doing well.

Q.: Seigi-kun, if you were to compare Richard to an animal, which do you think it would be? (Himawari-san)

A.: If Richard were an animal… I wonder which. Richard feels a bit like an animal even now, so it’s hard, but I’d say human…? No, Richard is a human being. My bad, my bad. An animal with whooshy golden hair and blue eyes… I once had the feeling that the air about him is a bit like a creature named miacis, which I saw before in some illustrated reference book. It’s an ancient animal and seems to be the ancestor of dogs, cats and the like, and its exact appearance isn’t known anymore, but when I think of it as the origin of the beauty of all the animals I like, I wonder if he wouldn’t be something along those lines… Richard, Richard? Why won’t you look at me in the eye?

Q.: Is there any time you laughed the most when you were with Richard-san? Alternatively, if there was any time where you ended up laughing without thinking, please tell me! I am rooting for you! (Heartbreak Akira-san)

A.: Eeh…? Is it okay for me to talk about this…? Ah, I’ve received permission, so I’ll say it. Erm, this is a story from when I was studying French; I suddenly felt like doing a prank when I couldn’t make any progress at all, so I asked Richard-sensei something nonsensical, like, “If you don’t mind, please say ‘steamed bun’ in a really French-like way; I think it’ll definitely sound French to me”. And then the answer that came at me was a perfectly French-styled “steamed bun”… I died of laughter. Sorry for being too descriptive with the details. If you have a French friend close to you, I think you should try to make the same request. I think it won’t sound like Japanese to you. It’s already a bit amusing just remembering it. Hey, Richard. You didn’t find it all that funny? Ah, it was funny when I rolled over laughing? Then I guess we can call it even.

Q.: What are the dishes and desserts that you want to try challenging yourself to make? (Tsugiumi-san)

A.: I get interested in the stuff that I think looks delicious, but they’re a little different from the things I decide to try my hand at making. Richard, is there anything you wanna eat? I’ve noticed this recently: I don’t have much will to make stuff only I want to eat, but if it’s something that someone important to me feels like eating, I suddenly get motivated. That’s why, if there’s… Ah, ah, why’re you punching the cushion?

Q.: Looking at Richard-san and Jeffrey-san, are there any moments or points in which you feel that they are similar? (Yoshimura-san)

A.: Yoshimura-san, hello. There are; from my perspective, there are many. There sure are, but… from the face that the person next to me is making, it seems better not to say too much about it. Let me put this one on hold.

Q.: What was your favorite school lunch menu? For lunch boxes, what were your favorite contents? (Nanatsuji-san)

A.: Hello! I used to like all the school lunch dishes, but as expected, curry was what made me happiest. As for lunch boxes, I’d mostly get an allowance to buy the sandwiches and lunch boxes I liked, and whenever I got more than 500 yen, I’d get to buy a large serving of hayashi rice and would be happy over it. After all, the servings have to be big for a school boy, if nothing else.

Q.: If you switched bodies with Richard upon waking up, what is the first thing you would do? (Sango-san)

A.: Eh...? How? Would it be magic or something? I’d probably think, “Is this a dream?” and go back to sleep. But why would I be in Richard’s body...? I wonder if my head would malfuction from talking too much about how beautiful he is and things would turn out like that. If I got cocky and tried to imitate Richard, I feel like he’d give me one hell of a cold look with those elegant eyes of his, so hum, I wouldn’t do anything, just sleep until the magic wore off. I also think that Richard would be happier when I have the face of Nakata Seigi rather than his own.

Q.: When did you get your growth spurt? (Middle Schooler-san)

A.: Does that mean the time when I got taller? I think it was either in my third year of middle school or first year of high school. It was neither too late nor early among my friends, so while not minding it much, I ended up surpassing Hiromi’s height.

Q.: Seigi-kun, hello. ♪ Seigi-kun, what kind of fashion do you like? Where do you normally buy clothes? Also, have you changed your style or been influenced after meeting Richard? If you can, please tell us. (*^^*) (Yuriko-san)

A.: Hello! Fashion, huuh... To be honest, before I started working in Étranger, I used to feel like I only needed to keep my clothes as clean as necessary and that they were okay as long as they didn’t look sloppy, but as expected, once you enter a jewelry shop, the number of clothes with high collars increases. Then, I met Richard, and ever since I started working for him, my opportunities to wear a suit increased, but what he often tells me is, “Wear what you like however you like the most you can within the limits”, and speaking of which, I kinda seem to look up to suits with a large silhouette and felt hats, like the ones people used to wear in prewar days. I think this is probably the influence of an actor my Grandma liked. In the past, there was a black-and-white photo of him decorating the apartment where Grandma lived. It would’ve been great if I could’ve showed myself wearing a suit to Grandma.

Q.: Seigi-kun, hello! A question for you. Seigi-kun’s “senpai”, Vincent-san, is a user of Jeet Kune Do, but you are also a black belt at Karate, so I am very curious about what would happen if the two of you actually fought. Since you both master your own matrial arts, so I feel that I would be able to see a cool fight between you. Also, this is just my ponderings, but Seigi-kun, I want you to tell me, from your point of view, how strong you think Vincent-san is and what changes you have of winning. (Monaka-san)

A.: Hello! Erm, when you say “fight”, is it okay to interpret it as a head-on brawl? I think you probably do not practice any martial arts, Monaka-san, so I am going to answer based on that: martial arts abilities and fight abilities are completely different. See, the rules of each martial art are pre-determined, and if you fight within them, you won’t suffer serious injuries and you can decide who wins or loses, but there’s none of that in a brawl, so... Also, I believe both parties know that, if a person who did martial arts to some extent hits someone in earnest, it’ll result in something that can’t be undone, so I think they can’t bring themselves to throw fists with each other. But on the other hand, since we can tell to some degree that we both seem to have have this awereness, I think it’s okay if I so much as throw a paper ball at the back of his head. Vince-san might hit me back, and then I guess I’d fling a straw bag at him next. We might get along a bit better if we both let it out. Sorry that it’d be the light type! I hope this served as an answer.

Q.: A question for Nakata Seigi-kun! To be precise: is there anything that makes you go, “This is the one thing I want to tell Richard-shi!!”~? Even if it is something that is normally hard to say, you might be able to say it here. (*^^*) (Sui-san)

A.: “I’m happy when you eat my pudding; thanks! But I’m begging, for health reasons, that you’re at least careful not to eat too much...! I wanna be with you for a long time. Please. And... also... thanks for always. I’m so grateful to you that I can’t say it enough. It’d be great if I could.” This is it! Aah, that was embarrassing. Eh? “You’re always telling me that much”, you say? Is that so?

Q.: What is your favorite sweet? (Tanaka Milk Tea-san)

A.: That’s a difficult theme... I don’t seem to have any that I’m obsessed with, but anything looks delicious to me if it’s a sweet that Richard eats with relish, so I grow to like it. But when Richard doesn’t eat all of a sweet and leaves some of it, I go, “Could it be he left it for me because he thought I’d like it?” and they also turn out to be so, so tasty. Basically, I like everything. Unless I buy and eat it by myself.

Q.: Nice to meet you; as Seigi-kun faces people very straightforward and honestly, I read every volume while confirming over and over that I also want to live on facing people like that. Is there anything that the aforementioned Seigi-kun always puts in his bag? (Sumiyaki Yuuma-san)

A.: Sumiyaki-san, hello! Being told that I face people honestly is flattering. I do think it’d be great if I actually manage that, but the “honesty” I’m thinking about is my own concept of it, so it’s not like this honesty is something only comfortable for the other person. That’s why being told so makes me all the happier. Thank you. This is from after meeting Richard, but what I always have in my bag is candy. Royal-milk-tea-flavored ones. When I don’t have them, I pack in some other sweet, and just from thinking, “I’d give him this if he were here”, it kinda feels like having a fragment of him with me even when he’s not by my side, and it’s reassuring. It helps me out. Other than that, my phone. Thanks for the question!

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #nakata seigi #richard #fanbook #my translation

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spield · 4 years

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picking up v (suitor...s enter!)

Hey, hey hey!! So, here’s the latest installment of the picking up! verse! You can read the other “chapters” here. In which Kakashi meets the other suitors. part i - part ii - part iii - part iv

“I’m sorry about that.” Sakura apologized, settling the wine glass down. They’ve barely made it to their reservation, with the stare off that happened between Kakashi and Tobirama back at the lobby.

The two silver-haired (foxes) men kept their composure with small (non-existent) small talk, gauging each other. Sakura believed that the only thing that stopped them from going all caveman was the fact that they knew she hated it.

She was not a prize, damn it.

Good thing they knocked it off and Kakashi and Sakura went on their way. The restaurant they chose limited their capacity to provide a sense of privacy and exclusivity to their diners. Their table sat by the window, inside a small function room.

They just finished their main courses when Kakashi waved her off, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t know you were so popular, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sakura’s smile strained, thinking of all the male guests in the wedding entourage. From what she heard, Pein will be there. That’s an entire headache right there and oh if only he knew.

“Ah, well. Tobirama’s an old patient. He got shot by one of his client’s enemies after court.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi hummed, “I think I read about that in the newspaper. The Shimura case?”

“Yes —“

“Excuse me, here are your desserts.”

The waiter laid out a souffle for Sakura and a plain vanilla ice cream for Kakashi - which Sakura just found completely adorable.

Kakashi watched as Sakura’s eyes lit up at the first taste of the chocolate souffle, her cheeks flushing with delight. He could watch her eat forever. He’ll give her all the souffle she wants, if she asks for it.

Their conversation picked up, rounding with the details of the infamous Shimura case, and how it shook their nation. With the not-so white elephant in the room, Kakashi decided it’s time to bat it away.

Half-jokingly he asked; “So… are there any other suitors I should know about?”

The Uchiha family for all its riches is a subtle one when it comes to throwing parties. Which is the opposite of the Hyuuga clan. Glancing at the grand displays of 7 foot flower arrangements and number of tables for the pre-wedding party, Sakura guessed it was Hanabi’s family that won out when it came to decorations.

The wedding was tomorrow, this party, according to the invitation, was to allow the two families to get to know each other. Or, looking at the amount of passive-aggressive bragging, to one-up each other one way or another.

With the Hyuugas in politics and the Uchiha in the police force, Hanabi and Sasuke’s marriage seems like a political alliance to the untrained eye. But as Sakura sat waiting for Kakashi to return from the restroom, she could see the couple’s eyes soften at the sight of each other at their own table of honor.

It’s about love - and politics. Not the other way around.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not pining for your ex-husband at his own wedding party.”

Sighing, Sakura rolled her eyes at the droll voice from behind her. From her periphery, a red-head moved and sat across her - Akasuna no Sasori.

“Why are you here?” Sakura’s eyes narrowed at Sasori, “You hate Sasuke.”

Sasori shrugged, his indolence marking his movements. “It doesn’t change the fact that his father invested in our hospital.”

Ah, of course it doesn’t.

It’s love, politics and money - what a trifecta.

For a moment, it was silent between the rivals. They’d met at medical school, both studying under the heavy hands of Senju Tsunade and Akasuna no Chiyo. Sasori had been her senior for a year, before their tense rivarly started when Sakura dismantled his thesis paragraph by paragraph, making them graduate at the same time.

Their rivalry’s legendary. Rumor has it Tsunade and Chiyo still had a bet going on about when Sasori will confess his begrudging respect and hate-love for their favorite student - not that Sakura knew that.

“So should I keep my eyes peeled for a dramatic entrance of a scorned ex-wife tomorrow? Let me know, I’ve got to get my camera ready.”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitched, “I’ll peel your eyes for you if you don’t leave me alone.”

Sasori’s lips twitched upwards, satisfied with poking fun. “And here I was keeping you com—“

“Ah, Sasori-san, I didn’t know you were here!”

The Uchiha Matriarch, mother, or was it back to Mikoto-san now? was a lifesaver. Looking every bit of a matriarch with her pearls and beautiful dark blue dress, Mikoto still held an effortless elegance about her.

Sakura’s lips twitched at Sasori’s deflated expression, quickly masked with impassive politeness. He rose and kissed the matriarch’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss your son’s second wedding for the wedding, Mikoto-san.”

Mikoto took the insult in stride. Sasuke’s first marriage didn’t have a wedding - not of this magnitude of course. Given all the… circumstances surrounding it. The matriarch glanced at her former daughter-in-law, now shooting her a relieved smile.

What a pity she had to leave the family. Mikoto mused. Sakura-chan’s a great woman, smart as a whip with a backbone of steel - perfect for the Uchiha. With a glance around the ballroom, Mikoto could already tell the line of men wanting to steal her away, starting with this doctor. She also saw Congressman Uzumaki (yakuza, if she remembered correctly) lurking about and that lawyer Tobirama.

Mikoto smiled a practiced smile at Sasori, before placing her hand on the crook of his elbow, talking about the new technology Suna hospital has because of their investment -

They want her daughter-in-law?

They could try.

Hand-washing was one of the habits (or coping mechanisms) his former occupation left on Kakashi. Counting backwards from 100, he meticulously scrubbed his hands on the sink. From the cubicle behind him, a familiar figure emerged.

“I see that you lost the face piercings - good look. Must be a hit with the voters.”

Pein knew Kakashi, perhaps even knew what he was before he was a high school teacher (and even during that), and it really shouldn’t surprise Kakashi that he was here. A political gathering disguising as a pre-wedding banquet.

“And you lost the mask - you’re almost unrecognizable.” Pein said, standing next to Kakashi and turning on the sink - drowning out their conversation.

Kakashi picked off a few tissues and dried his hands, his customized face mask sitting snugly on his face. “Heh, it was going out of fashion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to attend to.”

“Does she know?”

Kakashi paused, his back facing the legislator. Slowly, he turned and faced the impassive face of the shadow leader of one of the oldest Yakuza families in Ame. “That’s none of your business.”

“I knew you prefer older men.”

Sighing, Sakura turned to Shisui and shrugged off his arm from her bare shoulders. “Hello to you too, Shisui. I’m assuming you’re the one who sent her?” Emerald eyes pointedly looked at the lady Kakashi’s politely twirling.

He’d gotten back right as the meals were served and was promptly whisked away by an overenthusiastic lady with a penchant for pointing out their age differences.

Shisui shot her a grin before bowing in front of her with flourish, offering his hand for a dance, knowing that propriety dictates that she can not refuse.

Soon, her soft hand slid into his and he whisked her away for a dance. As they sway back and forth to the orchestra, Shisui lowered his lips to her ear. “You’d be surprised who’s more devious between Itachi and I, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, roaming the room over Shisui’s shoulder. She found Itachi near the grand staircase, already looking at her with molten eyes.

“You two are persistent.”

Shisui laughed, leaning back an inch. “We prefer, determined. If you don’t mind.”

Sakura sighed, swaying in his arms, “You do know it’s odd if I get married to someone in your family again, right? Let alone my ex-husband’s brother or cousin.”

Shisui’s chuckle reverberated against Sakura’s chest, his lips grazing her ear. “Darling, once part of the family - always part of the family.”

“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Finally, Sakura had thrown in the towel and bowed out of the reception with a goodbye and a hug with the newly-weds. She had whispered in Sasuke’s ears a request to keep his relatives away from her.

“You still love her?” Shisui asked, daringly, eyes sharp. They were in Sasuke’s room, lounging, some sort of last bachelor’s party with wine and business plans.

“Of course.” Sasuke answered with not a beat missed.

Theirs was a history too long and too sweet to be brushed away. They may have ended but the bitterness of that ending was nothing compared to what they’ve been through. They grew together, loved together, had a beautiful girl together. How could he not love her?

Shisui watched as his cousin’s eyes glazed over, looking inwards, his body language softening before hardening as his coal eyes narrowed.

Itachi stared at his brother as if seeing him for the first time. It seemed they’d underestimated Sasuke’s loyalty. “We’ll take care of her, otouto, you know that.”

“I’ll always love her.” Sasuke reiterated, pointedly ignoring his older brother. He poured himself a glass of wine, remembering how Sakura looked up to Kakashi when they left the banquet. “Which means if any of you fucks up Sakura’s happiness, there will be hell to pay.”

When they arrived in Kakashi’s room, Sakura spilled out all the “suitors” who suddenly emerged after her divorce. Kakashi was pretty sure they’ve always been around, but he kept that to himself.

A doctor, nay, an owner of one of the biggest hospitals in the country - Akasuna no Sasori. Championed by many in their field, saying that he and Sakura are the next power couple of the field.

A lawyer, nay, one of the best criminal lawyers and co-owner of the Senju Co law firm - Tobirama Senju. The contender of the whole Senju family, including Tsunade (who had no apologies to give to Kakashi, she wanted Sakura as her official relative - sorry)

A legislator and a yakuza head - Uzumaki Nagato. Or Pein. Who was frankly just a pain in the ass to deal with. Kakashi still had some scars to prove that.

And of course, the Uchiha cousins. Championed by their whole clan, judging by the way the matriarch and patriarch approvingly gazed at them while they whisk Sakura for a dance.

And then there’s Kakashi.

“I’m just a humble soon-to-be college teacher,” Kakashi started and Sakura almost rolled her eyes thinking that there’s nothing humble about a retired military man who may or may not still be covertly working for the government and instead let Kakashi continue.

“Are you sure you’re fine with me?” he asked. And though he said it with humor laced in his voice, there’s a hint of truth.

Sakura’s heart clenched painfully, and she took Kakashi’s hands. “Are you okay with me? I’m dragging you from your peaceful life and well, into this.”

“Can’t say it’s not gonna be interesting.”

Sakura laughed, leaning against Kakashi. In turn, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and smothered his laughter against her hair. (He’ll have to make some calls. Get the Hatake estates and businesses up and running. He’s not just. And maybe he didn’t have a yakuza family or a corporation, but he had Sakura- and the only approval he’ll ever need - Sarada’s.)

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Eight (v. light nsfw)

Friday means it’s dragon shifter romance day!

Last time we learned that Mikaeïl's late partner was also an artist, and that made us feel a bit wobbly and insecure... This time we finish our dinner date with him and make one or two steps forwards...

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

“So you see why I was reluctant to talk to you about him…” Mikaeïl murmured softly after he’d risked a glance up at your face. “I would have told you, I’m sure. My past would have come up sooner or later, but…” he murmured, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Ah, that’s just the face I didn’t want to see,” he said as he glanced up and caught sight of your stricken expression.

You tried to hide it behind a smile, pretending to brush it off. Whoever this long-lived creature had been, he had clearly been unfathomably dear to Mikaeïl. How could you even begin to compare with that? With a hundred years of love? What could you offer him after all that time in each other’s company? “You’re right,” you said with an overly bright smile. “It’s not first date talk. I’m sorry I pushed it…” you said, fighting the way your throat closed up around the words.

His shoulders relaxed just a little, but he still had his jaw clenched tight as a goblin’s metalwork vice. He swallowed thickly and said, “Alright, but let me just say that my attraction to you isn’t some vain attempt to rekindle something that was lost a long time ago. You are an artist, and so was he, but there the similarity ends.” The light that glowed in his eyes was like a fire burning low, the coals smoldering red after the bright heat of flames had exhausted itself. In truth, he looked suddenly very tired, and every bit his two hundred and sixty odd years old.

While you could still taste that bitterness on your tongue from the self-doubt that had swirled through you like a rip tide and stripped you of your confidence, you tried to be brave. Mikaeïl suddenly looked thoroughly miserable, though he was hiding it behind his usual chilly facade. On impulse, you reached your hand out to his where it now lay quiet as a corpse’s on the wooden tabletop. The chill of his pale fingers always surprised you, but you squeezed his strangely delicate hand and smiled at him.

“Come on,” you said. “We were doing so well. Tell me about how you know the goblin who owns this place… I didn’t catch his name…”

“Kiriavin?” he said, his throat working again as he swallowed and sighed, trying to push his pain aside. A wariness still lingered in the corners of his reptilian eyes, but he clearly appreciated your efforts at moving things along. He chuckled then. “I taught his wife at university, if you can believe it.”

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” you snorted, which made him roll his lovely eyes. “I wondered if you knew him through your music? Lidaë back at Stickybeak’s cafe mentioned that there was a goblin in your group…”

He opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to go on, Kiriavin returned with menus and two glasses of sparkling wine in elegant flutes. “You drink, I presume?” the goblin asked you before setting your glass down on the table, and you nodded. “Very well. This is a sparkling wine made from grapes grown just outside Starfall Springs. And in a moment I’ll bring some nibbles out for you as well,” he added with a sharp, hungry grin that briefly made you wonder exactly what a goblin might consider ‘a nibble’…

“Thank you, friend,” Mikaeïl said and something wordless passed between them in the space of a heartbeat.

Kiriavin nodded once, and then left with a distinctly softer smile.

Attempting the same kind of silent eloquence, you tilted your head curiously at Mikaeïl and he smiled the first true smile since his late partner had been brought up. His lips curled slowly and then drew back to reveal his white teeth, the canines more pronounced than on a human. You wondered fleetingly what else about him might differ, but reined your imagination back in as he spoke, shaking his head slightly. “That sly old goblin knows exactly what just happened between us, and he’s sorry for it. I think we might be expecting even finer wine with the meal…”

“He doesn't have to,” you said guiltily, but Mikaeïl waved his hand.

“Trust me, you can’t make a goblin do anything else once they’ve got their mind set on something. It’s quite literally impossible.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said. “Cheers,” and you held up the delicate flute of sparkling wine.

The expression on his face was a strange one as he regarded you in the candlelight of the restaurant. It reminded you of the way someone looks at a painting in an art gallery that they’ve only seen in books and reproductions before. He stared at you as if trying to fix the lines and shapes of your face in his mind, as though he would sculpt you later from memory. It only lasted perhaps three seconds, but it was so powerful that you nearly didn’t react as he gently chinked his glass against yours. “Cheers,” he said, the word very softly enunciated.

Even the way he drank was elegant and he held you transfixed as he sipped, the very tip of his tongue just sampling the little tide-mark that was left behind on his upper lip after he’d swallowed. When his eyes met yours again, his gaze clouded and he frowned quizzically at you. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, you grinned and said, “Are you honestly telling me that after two and a half hundred years, you have no idea how good looking you are?”

The flush began at his collarbones and crept up his cheeks to his slightly tapered ears, obscuring the golden dusting of very faint freckles on his cheekbones.

“Come on,” you pressed playfully.

He licked his lips. “I… I have been told as much, yes, but… it’s… it’s always embarrassing to me.”

“To be attractive? Mikaeïl, people would pay millions to look like you!”

The red in his cheeks darkened and he took another sip, looking away.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still laughing that somehow you of all people had managed to make a powerful creature like a dragon shifter blush furiously.

The meal was incredible, the wine heady and rich, but perfectly matched to the food. Mikaeïl and you soon moved past your initial awkwardness and settled into an evening of playful banter. As you shared a gorgeous dessert, you asked him about his family, and he said that his sister Caerelia was the only family he had left now. “She’s very… protective of me,” he murmured, going pink in the cheeks again. “She’s been asking me a lot about you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I told her to mind her own business though. I’m not a hatchling anymore… But she’s never going to change.”

“As long as she’s not… you know…” you shrugged, “Overbearing…”

“Oh, she’s overbearing,” he laughed. “But I know what you mean. She means well, and nearly always backs off if I ask her to.” Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his seat and said, “I can’t eat any more.”

“Me neither,” you groaned. “That was so good.”

Twenty minutes later, he was walking you along the road towards the taxi stand in the centre of Old Trollbridge. You held his hand and murmured, “Thank you for tonight. I… I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” he said, his feet falling still as he turned to look down at you. In a barely-audible whisper, he asked, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Letting go of your hand, he placed his left hand on your hip, drawing you close with his right, the fingers of which he placed just below your chin, tilting your face up. His eyes glowed in the dim light, and your heart rate soared as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek before cupping the back of your head and coaxing you further into the gesture. His lips touched yours in the briefest ghost of a kiss before he returned and began to kiss you more confidently, as though he now believed that you did want this after all.

You let him set the pace of the kiss, his grip tightening suddenly on your hip, but after what felt like only a moment or two, he drew back, his breathing a little ragged.

“Mikaeïl?”

His eyes really were glowing golden, and he ground his jaw again, stepping back and closing his eyes before laughing. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away there…”

It hadn’t been that fervent a kiss… “I didn’t think you did - oh,” you breathed as he raised his lip up on one side in a little playful snarl and showed you that his canine was significantly longer than it had been, almost like a vampire’s. A deep, low-frequency rumble rolled off him too before he turned it into a laugh.

“You do remember that it’s been a while for me…”

“Yeah, but, oh… When you said you hadn’t been with anyone in that time, you meant… at all…?”

The blush was back in his cheeks and he shook his head, his red hair dancing in the lamp light. “It… I didn’t… It wasn’t something that I…” He took a sharp, shaky inhale and smiled awkwardly. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you said gently, pressing your palm to his cheek and watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned gratefully into the touch like an affectionate cat.

“Thank you…” he said without opening his eyes. “Come, let me take you home.”

You ached all over to stay with him that night, but you sensed he needed more time, to move at a slower pace, and it was probably for the best anyway. With a nod, you and he continued to walk side by side down the cobbled street, and in another grateful gesture, he briefly squeezed your fingers in his without looking at you.

Part Nine

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moonlightwinterdxxix · 4 years

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Strawberry Teeth

~~~

“The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad,

If we got each other, and that's all we have;

I will be your brother, and I'll hold your hand—

You should know I'll be there for you.”

-Alec Benjamin, “If We Have Each Other”

~~~

There was something in particular about strawberries that made Osomatsu happy. Happy, joyful, complete, in a sense that he was coursed through by fulfillment. And although a strawberry had a lot of qualities that made the fruit stand out, from its juicy flavor exploding against the tongue, to the color that reminded Osomatsu of himself sometimes, the berry was important to him because of so much more than that.

But nothing was more important to him than his brothers.

And for the berry to assist him in exposing that fact, that was what made Osomatsu happy.

The importance of the strawberry in his mission, however, was specific. It was a fruit for a reason, because it was eaten for its nutrients, its taste, its collaboration with other foods to decrease hunger in the human body. But as much as it was that, a strawberry also served as entertainment, to add pungency to otherwise bleak treats, to behave as a dessert after a complete meal, and for Osomatsu—to make Todomatsu smile.

Even as a child, Osomatsu loved Todomatsu’s smile.

But this smile came in all shapes and forms.

~~~

They were ten, but it was still sweet.

It was sweeter than anything. It was sweeter than the candy made in Santa’s factory. It was sweeter than honey, and being called Honey by someone you loved. It was sweeter than a kiss underneath a patch of cherry blossom trees, petals blowing in the wind. It was sweeter than all those things combined. Because when you were someone’s older brother, to see your little brother’s smile was the sweetest thing you could imagine.

Most especially, when you were the cause of that sweet smile.

“Ah! This tastes so good! Thank you so much, Osomatsu!” Todomatsu took another sip of the reddened drink, pinching the tip of the pink and white straw with his little lips. His throat bobbed as he gulped down the smoothie in large gulps. After draining another one-fourth of the glass, he exhaled, raising his head to Osomatsu with stars illuminating his eyes. “Seriously, this is amazing! Who taught you to make this?”

With a light shrug, Osomatsu simply responded, “I had Mom’s assistance.” Which was true. But the flavor wouldn’t have been reality if not for his attention in their home economics lesson in school. For the first time, it was worth remembering what their teachers informed them over the course of infinite dragging seconds, as boring as it was. Osomatsu was tempted to pat his own back.

“Oh.” Todomatsu’s sweet smile was then mixed with vinegar. “And you handed her the ingredients while she mixed them up?”

He startled. “Huh?” Osomatsu waved his hands, protesting, “No! We helped each other make it! W-Well, I-I was the one with the idea to make it in the first place! Do you think I was her servant the whole way through?”

Now his smile was sour, and the stars once sparkling in Todomatsu’s eyes had reduced to dust. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, that’s all you’re good for. I’ll remember to thank Mom for the drink later.” Todomatsu took another set of swallows until the strawberry smoothie was no more than a puff of blushing ice nestling at the bottom of the glass.

Osomatsu eyed him dejectedly.

Todomatsu didn’t acknowledge it. “Anyway, I’m gonna head out, play with the toy train I picked up from the side of the road.” He stood up from the chair, and it skidded away from the edge of their kitchen table. “Take that to the sink for me, Osomatsu. If being a servant is all you’re good for.” Tittering, Todomatsu skipped out of the kitchen, whooping as he called for Karamatsu in the living room excitedly.

Without arguing, Osomatsu took the empty glass and brought it to the sink. He felt bitter.

~~~

Once, when they were twelve, the day was made of fire.

The sun was too high up, and it wasn’t shielded by its white, puffy friends. Maybe the clouds were angry, and wanted to have some time away from it. That was too bad, since the sun was such a brutal fellow entirely, being made of hellfire. It shot the world of Akatsuka District with rays warmer than a sweltering dish on Matsuyo’s frying pan, and ice was a longed reverie as it melted elsewhere, out of reach from the district’s miracle of six same faces.

“I need a drink,” complained Jyushimatsu, fanning himself with his failed quiz in Mathematics as he leaned tiredly against the wall. “Choromatsu, get something from the fridge, won’t you?”

“Do it yourself,” Choromatsu replied, as worn-out as his younger brother was. To Karamatsu, he said, “Karamatsu, get something from the fridge.”

“I can’t. It’s broken, remember?” Karamatsu sighed.

All of them sighed.

Inching his back off the floor, Todomatsu swiped his sweaty cheeks with two fingers. His skin was warm, almost like his back, and the floor he had lazed himself upon. His shirt clung tightly to his skin like epoxy. The floor was as if Helios himself had laid down on it. Friction was the worst when summer existed.

“I’m gonna find something to cool me down, anything. Don’t bother asking for some if I actually find something.” He didn’t wait for a reply to be said from the others as he left the living room, a dungeon of pyre. He went straight to the corridor, body sagged as he defeatedly placed one feeble foot in front of the other. He was heaving.

The floorboards were just as bad as the living room. Each step was walking through a field of magma.

Todomatsu cursed the heavens for their cruelty.

But for his and his brothers’ cold reputation, they probably deserved this fire.

“Psst! Todomatsu!”

“Eh? Osomatsu?” Todomatsu grimaced at the kitchen’s direction, where Osomatsu was peeping over the frame of the door. His expression was entirely brightened, like he had found a way to control the fire instead of have the fire control him. “What’s going on? Do you need me there with you?”

“Mhm, that could work. But don’t tell the others.” Osomatsu vanished behind the wall, and Todomatsu’s curiosity danced as he heard the excited footsteps of his older brother emerging from the other room. “Come on! Get in here!”

Hesitation and curiosity boxed inside Todomatsu, with the latter taking the medal. Todomatsu ignored the heat beneath his soles as he jogged over to the kitchen, away from the others’ earshot, and entered into another room with the air stinging from the summer sun. Todomatsu coughed a breath, his head spinning abruptly from the levelled irritation and fatigue that clashed against him.

“Here you go.” Osomatsu pressed something against Todomatsu’s right hand, and the fire he felt diminished and turned to smoke. Todomatsu flinched at the unexpected, and he lowered his gaze to the item in his hand—a reddish Snow cone his fingers found themselves encircling. Cold, icy, refreshing. The sun’s enemy. Todomatsu’s soul sparkled.

Osomatsu said, “I found some pennies on the sidewalk, enough for something like that. I could only get two of them, and since you were the only one who had the guts to stand up and try whatever, I thought you deserved an award.” Osomatsu slid his tongue against his own Snow cone, as crimson and chilly as the one Todomatsu resumed marvelling over. Osomatsu’s tongue returned in his mouth ruby. “Try it, little bro. It’s very delicious.”

Todomatsu tried it. And it tasted like his life had been extended for another twenty years. Soon after he was licking like he had never before, drowning out the sun with an invisible force field as it attempted to penetrate the snowfall of Todomatsu’s happiness. He smiled the whole way through, giggling at his own success, until the red ice was sliding through his fingers and down his sleeves. Todomatsu didn’t care at all.

“What’s the flavor? Strawberry?”

“Yup.” Osomatsu winked at him. “Because I thought it works well when the sun’s a pisser. Don’t you think?” But he was met with no reply as Todomatsu resumed ingesting the frozen treat. At the innocent sight of it Osomatsu chuckled, rubbing his nose. “Ah, Todomatsu. You look happy.”

Todomatsu grinned at him, his teeth all coated in the strawberry’s rainbow of hues. “I am! Thanks, Osomatsu! This is great!”

The words meant more to the eldest than Todomatsu realized.

~~~

They crammed the exams in the last period. Todomatsu wasn’t prepared, and his pen fidgeted as his hands shook beneath the sleeves of his gray uniform. The situation was slightly relatable. Osomatsu’s paper barely had any answer, but Osomatsu leaned back in his chair, watching his brother from his side in the classroom. His eyelids carried anvils. He battled against sleep. Watching adult bedroom scenes the previous night did him little favors.

Worth it though.

The bell rang. The teacher stood up. Papers travelled from the corners of the classroom to the middle, different fonts penned against the numerous sheets tainted chalk. Answers differed. Some answers shaded the box next to Japan’s name. Others had Italy. A few had France. Osomatsu encircled none. The rest of his test was scribbled with irrelevant body parts that made the reproductive system. He wouldn’t ace this history test, but that wasn’t his priority.

It was the tears at the other end of the room.

Todomatsu stormed out of the door, calling Choromatsu’s name. Everyone either judged him or ignored him. Osomatsu followed him.

The corridors of the high school littered with students comparing answers. Caring less about the insignificance of academics, Osomatsu shrugged his bag on his shoulder, keeping close to the lockers that stood poised at his sides. He ignored his friends. He ignored Totoko. He ignored the rest of his brothers. Karamatsu only dipped his chin.

Osomatsu continued down a series of stairs, two floors away from the main lobby. He took a brief stop next to the rectangular machine settled on the landing, occupied by no other desperate students. He brought out his wallet—it stunk of poverty. But the single coin of silver glistened in the paling fluorescent lighting, and Osomatsu nudged away the voice demanding for selfishness. He inserted the coin into a slot. Nothing came out. Strawberry soda was no more.

Osomatsu gave the vending machine an eye roll and a middle finger.

Rain pelted on the towering structure of Akatsuka High School as Osomatsu exited the building, readying his black umbrella. He swept over the courtyard and front, trying to identify any familiar body build, easily differed from his by its height and the floppiness of its clothes. The scenery was a disappointment, a mockery, and Osomatsu loathed it. In general, he loathed being beaten in his own expertise, to be able to make out the form of those he had once called his brothers, but now called some fellowmen.

Whatever, he told himself. The voice of selfishness surged in him, and this time he decided to let it linger. I’m going home.

He untied the coal-dark wrap of his umbrella as he entered the drumroll of the sky’s sweat. The runner caught—Osomatsu shoved aggressively. He swore in annoyance, and cursed for its inability to comply. He wrestled with the metal, unable to stop himself. He wasn’t sure where his anger came from, or how it came to be, but it was there, either way. Some said that anger added ferocity into any particle of a gesture.

His finger slid against the steel. There was a ripping sound. And then, he was reminded of how similar in delicacy skin and fabric were, and of how close in color strawberries were to his own blood.

Except they didn’t taste the same.

He took a quick trip to the nurse’s office, and he hated their smiles. It was kind outside, but he knew more than anyone how much of a toxicant he was to the eyes of others. He was hated. Almost all of them were hated, even the brother whom he had lost to the downpour and his misfortune. Osomatsu seethed to himself. They treated his wound, running a cotton ball of antiseptic against the crack in his complexion. They wrapped it up with a bandage. They told him in a gentle voice to be careful next time when playing with toys. He called it karma for his middle finger.

They gave him a lollipop, saying, “You’ve been a good boy.”

He hoped they weren’t mistaking him for Todomatsu. But if they were, he was in all awareness ready to spit on their shoes. So what if they reported him to the principal for disrespect? It wasn’t as if they were knowledgeable of how much the deed disrespected his emotions. But he was nothing to them but a boy. A boy with six brothers, and a boy that deserved nothing but regret. The school glanced at him as if he were a parasite, and only a few gave the parasite extra attention. But people didn’t stay forever, no matter how often they would say otherwise. Osomatsu grew up with that experience.

A parasite. He might as well be.

But at the end of the day, he was nothing like those same-faced fools, any of them. And he was never going to be, he decided as he wordlessly slipped out from the splenetic atmosphere of the nurse’s office. He tapped his wounded finger against the side of his pants, destination set to the exit of the school, on his way home, where he could crash and rest to the sound of his own personal amusement. He didn’t care about his brothers.

But he did. Which was why he had the lollipop in his pocket instead of his mouth, and why the coin purposed as his ticket home was no longer weighing in his pocket. Osomatsu wanted to tell himself that it was the mood of kindness that triggered him, but his heart spoke of a different alibi. An alibi that wasn’t an alibi as it was the truth.

He flicked the runner of his umbrella again. It obeyed.

With the umbrella now properly catching the drops of heaven, Osomatsu walked out of the school’s boundaries.

And saw Todomatsu at the other side of the road, arms wrapped around Choromatsu’s. Todomatsu was crying. Choromatsu was stone-faced. He offered no consolation to the youngest.

Osomatsu waited for the lights to blink red before he and a few crossed the drenched concrete of the Ward, reflecting the gray skies in wide, rippling puddles. At the other side of the road, Osomatsu let a lazy expression fall over his face as he regarded his brothers. They regarded him back, uttering silence. Todomatsu was sniffing. Choromatsu had his chin up, his mouth angular and sealed. But they had the same eyes. All three of them.

They merely waited for him to do something, say anything. But Osomatsu said nothing.

He wasn’t like them.

He didn’t care about them.

...

He missed them.

“Todomatsu, here.” Osomatsu reached into his pocket and pulled out the lollipop, its red, strawberry color mirroring the color of the blood under Osomatsu’s bandage, and the blood running in the veins of those standing next to him. He extended the small sphere on a stick to the boy cowering behind Choromatsu’s body. “Hope this cheers you up. Tests suck.”

Todomatsu hesitantly took the lollipop, glistening eyes the size of saucers. He snapped back to Osomatsu, his already reddened cheeks brushed darker as something reminiscent of a smile tugged the corner of his lips. “Thanks, nii-chan,” he said. He was suddenly very loveable, and very much happier. And at eighteen, when their lives were a war against their greed and foolishness, this was all Osomatsu could ask for.

Osomatsu tried not to smile back as he turned away to walk home.

~~~

It hurt. It hurt, it throbbed, it shed tears. Todomatsu tried to steady his breathing as he cupped his eye, pounding like an orchestra of drums as he shook violently. People were talking about him in whispers he discerned. The toneless timbre made it worse. He was humiliated. He looked so pathetic. At that, he tried to keep still, stop himself from fretting over unnecessary pain. But it was anything but. He didn’t want to make his pain so obvious, but it was.

The pain wasn’t physical. It was emotional.

“Here, Totty,” Aida said, placing a drink on the counter. Concern shaped the curves of her eyes. “One strawberry milkshake. Get better, okay? It'll work out.”

It wouldn’t. Even if he was told a billion times by anyone in existence that it would be okay, it wouldn’t. The pain in his heart was more than that of a three-year long relationship cut short into heartbreak. His issues were morphed out of a different kind of love. A more important one. There was more than wanting to share blood with someone else, when a different rip was coated in the blood of those in the same family. A family where so many people are sad. Broken. Overwhelmed by their own grief.

Todomatsu’s injured eye was crying. The other eye was misting over.

His smile was all plastic. “Thank you, Aida,” he said, as steadily as he could muster, taking the drink from the countertop. “I’ll be seeing you some other time.” He let his feet drag him out of the doors of Sutabaa, ignoring the eyes that steadied themselves on his backside, some worried, others intrigued. He was careless to their judgement—they were nothing to him. But to those whom he found something in , maybe he was nothing to them too.

Perhaps all this time, all of them weren’t anything to Osomatsu.

If that was the case, then fine. Let him find his own self-fulfilment where he wouldn’t be so much of a pain to his companions, acting as a ruthless overlord to the Matsuno borders. Todomatsu didn’t need to linger in a shredded domicile. He was better than that.

Therefore he wanted out of a world where he was nothing.

When he was out of sight from Sutabaa, Todomatsu approached the closest garbage bin and stashed the strawberry milkshake into it.

~~~

No one else was home. The bridge was busy with Karamatsu’s efforts in a pathetic poem. The bookstore was turned upside down due to Choromatsu’s weakness over females sprawled in bikinis over magazine covers. The town’s cats all had their stomachs full where Ichimatsu had passed by. And the river was a current of energy where Jyushimatsu’s arms swept energetically through them.

Osomatsu and Todomatsu were the only ones home.

But it was still a typical day for both of them.

“Niisan, you should really be more careful,” Todomatsu stated, pressing the wet cloth over Osomatsu’s purple bruise. Osomatsu flinched, failing in containing himself from the reaction over how unexpectedly the water on his skin stung. “People in Pachinko could be aggressive if you don’t hold back on your pride. You don’t...Ugh, why am I telling you this anyway?! Choromatsu-niisan has reprimanded you on this before. Cod, you never learn your lessons ever.” He squeezed the cloth, setting it back into the basin.

Osomatsu lifted his shoulders carelessly. “Meh, whatever. They’re the unlucky ones. Do they have any baby brothers to take care of them when they get beat up? Nope! That’s all me and you, Todomatsu...Ow, ow, ow!” He bit back a curse as the towel was this time laid against his shin. The discomfort crept up his nerves and made his head spin, and Osomatsu wasn’t able to help dropping it against the pillow leaning against the couch’s side. The ice bag was crooked on his forehead.

“I can’t even touch your injuries, niisan. They’re so gross.” Todomatsu shook his head. “Jeez, you’re an adult. Handle yourself better! You can’t rely on us on everything forever.”

“Hey, it’s totally in you if you want to leave me to die. Don’t deny me. You’d totally do it. For some reason it was your good nature that urged you to care for me today.”

“Meh. True.” Todomatsu finished up Osomatsu’s leg before standing up with the basin. “Alright, you stay there while I throw out this crappy water. Try to get up and I’ll add to those injuries. Take my word, you idiot eldest.”

Groaning, Osomatsu waved a hand. “Fine, fine. Thanks for the help.”

Firmly nodding, Todomatsu directed himself to the door of their shared bedroom before shutting it behind him. And Osomatsu was alone in the room again, where everything was soundless, and movement was a lie.

Now. Now, it was boring.

What to do? Crack open one of Choromatsu’s sexually inappropriate books? Munch discreetly on an unopened pack of Ichimatsu’s chips? Doodle crazy mustaches on the dudes in Karamatsu’s fashion magazines? The possibilities swarmed around his head like bees, but each time he came into account of his status, with an ice pack over his head and his leg propped on a cushion. His limbs ached with a single movement, any hair on his arm touched sending a shot of agony racing through his body. He was vulnerable, and the state of being vulnerable pissed him off.

Maybe it was a bad idea to yell about a man’s nose ring after losing ¥5000 to him. He thought he had a chance against those bulging biceps though. Must’ve been wistful thinking.

He’ll win next time. Surely. Right?

Right?

(No, he wouldn’t.)

Osomatsu deflated at his own misery.

On the other hand, Todomatsu’s phone was in reach. All it needed before it made its way to the eldest’s hands was a bit of toe skills and kicking. Osomatsu might’ve had torture radiating from one leg, but there was still plenty of power in the other. As another plus in his part, it was much closer to the phone than the other, thus the chances were more than plausible. Awesome.

Osomatsu bit his lip as he performed control over his leg. His toes struck against the gadget’s white frame, and he reigned supreme for one moment just to grumble in annoyance the following second. It scooted and slipped, sometimes getting too close to the edge of the couch, to the horror of Osomatsu. It was more from the fact that he was going to spend an hour of inevitable boredom than realize he broke the screen, expecting an outburst from his youngest brother once he learned the news.

But at his fifth try, he was overjoyed when he found the phone locking in place between his two biggest toes. Osomatsu grinned wolfishly. Success. The nose ring guy could bite his tongue now in defeat. Heh.

As he carefully drew it close to him, Osomatsu snickered at the idea that the clean and elegant Todomatsu Matsuno’s phone had been carried off by a gambler’s dirty feet. Or worse, a sibling gambler’s dirty feet. It might not be the same as moving out of the couch injured, but it was still in the position to receive a severe beating from his youngest brother. That was, if the said youngest brother wasn’t in one of his ‘feeling compassionate’ days, as he was almost daily.

He dropped the phone into his hands, swiping the screen up. Password. He grinned. He typed. And he was in. He was too familiar with his brother’s vain nature to know that the password to his phone was his own nickname. In all caps, to be exact, to add emphasis over how grand he was. Getting in wasn’t something that Osomatsu needed to problem himself with.

The bigger problem was what he saw next.

In the world of social media, one of the most common things to see was hate comments. They took physical attributes on one person and expanded them into something big. Ugly. They fussed over speaking patterns like it made all the difference when the speaker tried to convey a message. The message could be about proper judgement. And sometimes, they spoke of things that made zero sense, but the choice of words used were so strong, so power-hungry, that they were still forceful enough to jab at the one they wanted to harm.

They filled Todomatsu’s screen.

What’s up with that face? Dude, you’re trying too hard.

Does it have to be pink? That’s a freaking girl’s color. Are you sure you’re searching for a girlfriend?

This irritates me so much smh. Cringing to the core.

These are the kinds of people that when I see, I could understand why they’re lonely. Because there’s so much not to like! Like I’ve said to so many other online users, you aren’t getting anywhere. Might as well give up now before you disappoint yourself with your lack of success.

Just get out.

Osomatsu frowned. Was there anything so wrong about posting a picture of yourself online? Not to mention a good picture, where your smile was captured perfectly in HD like an actor in a movie poster, and the world around acted as if it made way for you like you were the king that ruled it? No, there was nothing wrong with that, yet Osomatsu felt his anger bubbling as he scrolled through the comments of Todomatsu’s latest image.

It was a smile. Osomatsu lived for that smile.

The comments contradicted Osomatsu’s wants.

His eyes slitted. His lips pulled back.

It was all about his little brother, but his little brother was treated as a part of a discarded wasteland. People threw rocks, hit the bullseye, cackled in triumph. Todomatsu was a slave to their jurisdiction, but he replied to none of those harsh comments. And the process repeated itself on the screen, a cycle replaying of false acumen. The phone might not have belonged to him, part of Osomatsu’s heart throbbed as if it were involved in that wretched cycle.

Those asses. Those damn asses. Each one of them, may their souls find torture the day they died. May they burn in their own words, suffer in their own threats. Their lives mattered less than all those who tried hard to find purpose in theirs. Their lives mattered less than Todomatsu’s. Their lives didn’t matter at all.

They had no say in which lives mattered and which ones didn’t. Life was life, and it wasn’t equal. But that didn’t mean that when you felt superior, other lives were inferior to yours.

Damn asses.

Osomatsu snatched the ice bag from his head, slamming it to the floor. He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, touching his bare feet to the ground. He pushed himself to stand, ignoring the pain in his leg as he pocketed Todomatsu’s phone and limped to the door. He slid it open, and clicked it shut, trying to identify the possible whereabouts of his younger brother. He said he was going to clean out the basin, but time ticked too much for that to be his only agenda. There was more to it.

Did he already know about those horrid comments? He must've. They were the first things to pop onto the screen for a reason.

Sloshing of a wet cloth against surface made its way to Osomatsu’s auditory senses. Water ran. Osomatsu scrambled over to the toilet at the end of the hall, and peeked through the small opening left by the ajar door. Todomatsu was still inside, washing the basin, his eyebrows straight, expression blank. Eyes stared into an invisible oblivion. He showed no signs of discomfort as he rid the basin of Osomatsu’s soot. Emotionless.

But emotionlessness often acted as the shield to hide all sorts of emotions.

Ichimatsu was often like that.

Osomatsu had been, once. Karamatsu’s knuckles had been bloodied. Jyushimatsu’s stomach had been bruised. And Todomatsu’s eye had been black.

Osomatsu snarled, facing away from the toilet as he made his way to the stairs. And walking down, he was turned into a lone wanderer as thoughts and anger rocked simultaneously in his mind. All his physical pain drained off, and Osomatsu was the definition of anger, of vengeance, and a wild beast being trapped from escaping into the wild. He wanted to rip limbs from their hinges, to yank head after head from numerous necks.

That was what it was like to feed on anger. But in this situation, his anger wasn’t going to take him anywhere. He didn’t know the hidden identities behind each ridiculous username, nor was he in the position to crunch some skulls with the injuries coating his body. It was also a fight after all, that turned him this way. His brash, stubborn nature might only make things worsen for both Todomatsu, and himself.

He approached the kitchen, hoping for a glass of water instead. Would it be chilly enough to clear the fumes combusting inside? Hopefully. Probably not. But it was better this way than to turn the situation from orange to red, and find a result of severe loss on their part.

He opened the fridge. There was juice inside.

“Osomatsu-niisan, where have you gone off to?” Todomatsu arrived at the kitchen frame, and as he laid his gaze on the red hoodie of his older brother, his brows furrowed as his arms crossed. “Cod, you’re thick. Couldn’t stop yourself from messing around when I specifically told you not to, can you?” He paused, then continued to, “Um, what are you doing?”

Because Osomatsu’s hand sported a pestle, the other hand tightly gripped a mortar. It was the only thing he was aware of that their house had when it came to crushing something. For this instant, it was the ice. Huge cubes of refrigerator ice. “I’m making you a drink. It’s the least I could do for your kindness, Totty.” He flashed Todomatsu a smile. It was truthful and false at the same time.

Scoffing, Todomatsu rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. That’s the worst thing you could do for me. Having you rest on the couch is the best offer if you’re so dead-set on doing shtick for me. Let’s return to the room.” Already, he was keeping to his word as be turned to leave.

Osomatsu said, “But you like strawberry, don’t you?”

Without turning back towards him, Todomatsu said, “It’s a girly flavor.” His following silence was uncomfortably long.

Ah. So he had read those comments. Osomatsu’s fists were triggered to break someone’s nose, but he held the instinct back.

Breaking him out of it, Todomatsu spoke again. “I’m serious, niisan. We should return upstairs and let you rest. I’ll keep you company, be on my phone, then leave if you want when the others return. But we should go and let you rest a bit more.” His tone lost a ton of ferocity. Indirectly, Osomatsu had struck a nerve, but it was better to have struck it than let the nerve be damaged for too long.

“Nah, I already began, so might as well continue.” The happy-go-lucky attitude was a fool’s talent, and Osomatsu was glad to be the fool. He once more plunged the pestle into the mortar, increased in strength, and more blocks of ice cubes turned into crystalline splinters. “Sit down instead. You can still keep niisan company here.”

Groaning, Todomatsu returned to the kitchen. “Fine. If it makes you stop.”

“Good.”

Osomatsu grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and set them to the center of the kitchen table. With the pestle, he slid some of the ice from the mortar into the two glasses, equal in each. Limping, he took the strawberry juice from the fridge, and once the pitcher was with him as he stood next to the table, he poured the drink into the glasses. He settled across Todomatsu on the table after setting the pitcher down and moving the glasses to their respective directions.

Todomatsu didn’t show a sign of gratitude. Well then. He wasn’t getting out with his little secret. Not a problem. This was a moment of truth, but if Todomatsu wasn’t going to cooperate in his own improvement by letting his chest out, Osomatsu needed to play alongside it. And succeed in his own way.

Grinning at his little brother, Osomatsu said, “Wanna hear a joke?”

“Your face.”

“And yours.”

Todomatsu flinched, and glared at his brother. Daggers weren’t as sharp as that stare. “Shut up. We’re nothing alike.”

“Yup. I’m a beggar and you’re a deity. We absolutely are nothing alike.” Osomatsu leaned forward on the table, the phone’s weight in his pocket letting itself be known. “That’s why we’re in this situation in the first place. I did stupid crap, and you’re here to take care of me. And for me, that’s absolutely great. You’re a very nice guy, Totty, even if you want to kill us sometimes. You’re not perfect, but you will always stay in a place for me where I can applaud you for being incredibly awesome.”

He studied Todomatsu’s expression as he spoke—unamused. But at the same time...

The shield of expressionless.

“You’re being sarcastic. Stop it. Where is this even coming from?” Todomatsu’s back was against the chair, and his crossed arms hadn’t untangled from his chest yet. The drink remained where it was in front of him, the wetness of it beginning to mark a circle on the table.

Shrugging, Osomatsu said, “Meh. Thought it would be a good time to let you know how I feel. We don’t get to hang as much, and now’s good timing, so yeah.” He smiled, all teeth. “This is awesome! It’s like karma, the good kind! Treat me well, I treat you well, that kind of stuff! But it’s also a nice time to let my brotherly instincts kick in, ya get me? I miss my baby bro, and I wanted to let him know how I feel about him.”

The sour set of Todomatsu’s features wasn’t pleasing, but it was necessary for Osomatsu to tell what was running in his mind. He was taking in Osomatsu’s words, letting them resonate. “That’s how you feel. That won’t matter to the world.”

Osomatsu chuckled. “But it matters to you, right?” He raised his glass of juice, and it sloshed against the sides of the transparent solid slightly. “And if you ask me, that’s more important. When you’re your own person, what’s more important is the opinion of someone you care about. I mean, think about it. Won’t it suck like hell if someone you cared about hated you? I couldn’t imagine. It would make my day to know that someone in this bummed-out universe actually likes me. And you made me feel that by taking care of me. So can’t I return the favor?”

Todomatsu’s arms unfolded from his chest, dropping slowly to the table. He sighed, eyes pinned on the juice. But the fact that he didn't question nor end this apparent conversation showed how much he truly needed it. “Is that really what you think, niisan? But you’ve always called me a monster.”

“Hey, every monster has a light side.” Osomatsu rubbed his nose. “You’re no exception. And I like seeing that side of you when it shows up. It reminds me of the loving family that I grew up with, and all the fun, happy memories I’ve made with them. Those cold nights, when life was hard, I always had my brothers to look up to the same way they looked up to me. We went through a ton, bro. Light always drowns out the dark.”

Todomatsu didn’t say a word, nor did he look at him. He could’ve been a statue, barely breathing, before he said, “You’ll always be there for me when I need it, right, niisan? No matter what happens?” He was expressionless. But his voice was desperate.

Not all shields were strong enough to withhold everything.

“Yup,” Osomatsu promised, and knew it was one that would never go hollow. “Onii-chan will forever be by Totty’s side. If Totty isn’t sure about stuff, and he feels hesitant to approach, I will assure him that I will always be open for him to approach. Just the way he approaches me, despite being a stubborn one.” He winked. “So don’t worry about the trials of life anymore, okay? Count on your Osomatsu-niisan too.”

And there was a smile. A small one, but it was there, lighting his expression from a state so blank and aggravating. A sense of fulfillment coursed through Osomatsu at the sight of that sweet smile, feeling like he was more than anything. And it grew, ever so slightly, as he watched Todomatsu’s brightening expression increase like it was being ignited with fire.

Osomatsu missed that kind of expression, given how it was rare to see his brothers at their best anymore, and he didn’t stop his own smile from blooming.

“Thanks, niisan.” Todomatsu chuckled lowly and grabbed the glass before raising it, a small flush dusting his cheeks. “Cheers to us?”

Osomatsu raised his own glass. “Yeah, man. Cheers!”

They knocked their glasses of strawberry juice against each other and gulped them down.

~~~

Aka, the first original story I made for the ‘Bits of my Brothers’ series. I haven’t posted it here on Tumblr yet, so I thought I might do that now.

#osomatsu-san #osomatsu san #bits of my brothers #osomatsu matsuno #osomatsu #todomatsu matsuno #todomatsu #original #fanfic #fan-fic #benimatsu #beni #-kun age #post-movie #movie spoilers #aida #aida and sacchi #aida (osomatsu)

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maraudererasmut · 4 years

Text

Black and White (Part IX)

(This is a long one! I'm sorry!)

Remus spent ten minutes in the washroom.

He didn’t want to spend ten minutes there, standing around by the sink, eying himself awkwardly in the mirror, nodding uncomfortably at the man who stood in the corner giving out mints. At first, Remus considered returning to the table, but then he pictured Sirius’ face, dark and cold, his glare as sharp as his cheekbones.

A few minutes in, Remus noticed the bathroom attendant— Is that what he was called? — eyeing him suspiciously. He gave the man a guilty smile and tried to save face.

“I’m uh… just waiting on some friends… they’re… uh… having a conversation at the table? A… A private one… I just…”

Remus cut himself off after he realized how little the other man cared about his predicament and how awkward his explanation sounded.

After ten minutes in the restroom, Remus eventually returned to the table, praying to whoever would listen that his friends' discussion was over; the last thing Remus needed was to walk in on them talking about him. When he arrived, Lily and James both offered genuine smiles. Sirius was staring intently at the menu, making a point of not glancing up as Remus sat down beside him.

“Remus! Hey… Sorry about that,” Lily began, before Remus shook his head in response.

“It’s no problem, really. Gave me a chance to… get some fresh air…” Remus didn’t know why he lied; perhaps he didn’t want his companions to know that he had spent the entire time staring at the mirror above the sinks.

Just as Remus lifted up the menu to begin looking at it— Lily was right, there were no prices! — a server came by to take their orders.

“Sir? What can I get you?”

“Oh…” Remus glanced down at the menu again, then back up at the server. “Can you… come back to me? At the end?”

“Of course, sir.”

Remus searched through the menu for the least expensive-sounding option as the rest of the party gave their orders. By the time the waiter circled back to Remus, he had settled on something.

“I’ll have the salad, please.”

“Very good, Sir. And for your main course?”

“Oh, uh… that… that was for my main course.”

The waiter cocked an eyebrow and Remus could feel the back of his neck burning.

“Sir, this is a prix fix menu. It’s all included. The appetizer, the main course, the dessert, all one price.”

Oh.

That explained why the menu didn't have any prices on it. It also posed a problem for Remus, who wanted to spend as little as possible at this exceedingly expensive establishment.

He glanced down at the menu again, feeling the eyes of his companions all settling on him, waiting for his response. Remus swallowed, trying to steady his nerves. He needed to keep his voice from shaking.

"Wh— what do you recommend?"

"The steak is our most popular dish. A very fine cut. Exceptional."

"O-okay… I'll have that."

"Very good, sir. How would you like your steak?"

Remus glanced over to Lily, hoping that she could help save him from embarrassment. He had never ordered steak at a restaurant; what was he supposed to tell the server? Lily smiled kindly at him, in that way she always seemed to smile. It was as if nothing about her could ever be unkind.

"It's usually best medium-rare," she said softly.

"Okay, uh… medium-rare then…"

The server nodded before leaving the table.

"Thanks," Remus mumbled under his breath, earning himself a gentle squeeze on the arm from Lily.

Conversation at the table picked up, and Remus noticed his nerves settle slightly as James and Lily chatted away. Lily began talking about art, a conversation that Remus could participate in, resulting in a vibrant debate about the merits of the hand-made and the decline of technique in the contemporary art world.

"I think that's the biggest flaw with performance art," Remus was saying as the sommelier filled his second glass of wine. "There's no skill involved. Sure, your idea can be strong, but there's a definite lack of artistic prowess, and it's a sincere pity. It really is detrimental to overall artistic growth in terms of sheer ability."

"You're wrong," Sirius said suddenly, speaking up for the first time since Remus arrived back at the table. Remus looked over to Sirius, expecting him to look upset. Instead, the gallerist had a smug grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with passion. "And if every artist thought like you, we would be stuck looking at the same thing in every gallery."

"Sirius," Lily said threateningly, before Remus cut her off.

"No, no, I want to hear this. Go on, Si— Mr. Black. I'd love to hear your explanation."

"Well," Sirius began, pausing to nod at the server who brought him a plate of food. "Performance art, readymade, the types of works that, as you say, don't require talent… those artists push the boundaries of what is defined as art. They move the contemporary world in a new direction, challenging the ideals of the time, bringing forth new concepts and making statements "

Remus smiled at Sirius, shaking his head.

"There's a time and a place, Mr. Black." He took a bite of his food and paused for a moment to savour the variety of flavours. Despite being a salad, it was so different than anything he had ever tried before; sweetness paired with bitter, the tang of citrus crossed with the bite from spiced pecans. He closed his eyes, relishing in the sheer sensation of eating.

"You were saying, Mister Lupin?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. This is delicious. Yes, a time and a place. At the time that Duchamp first introduced the concept of readymade, there was a genuine need for it in the art world. Nowadays, if somebody presented a urinal in an art gallery, they would be laughed at! What the contemporary art world needs these days is a return to craftsmanship. We need to go back to our roots, to explore techniques, to learn how to paint and draw and sculpt the way we used to."

"And what of Abromovic, who challenges what it means to be an artist?" Sirius asked, his grin growing wider, a hint of colour spreading across his cheeks.

"What about her?" Remus retorted, taking another bite and picking out the individual flavours of the dish.

"Well, Mr. Lupin, she changes the way we view art. Art is no longer something that is inaccessible to the lower class, the uneducated. Art is something that anyone can do, or be, or have, or create. Art is no longer reserved for the elite. People can no longer purchase art the same way they used to. I cannot own an Abromovic masterpiece. I can enjoy it and witness it, I can be a part of it, but it's not something that I can have and keep to myself behind closed doors. Art is no longer a commodity."

Remus nodded to the server who cleared his plate before giving Sirius a slightly skeptical look.

"You don't need to tell me about commodification of art and the inability to access it," Remus said with a grin. "If anything, I should be the one arguing for art accessibility for the lower class, not you."

Sirius' eyes flashed with something that Remus couldn't decipher, and for the briefest moment, the gallerist looked taken aback. Sirius' composure quickly resumed, however, covering up any sense of doubt, his lips twisted smugly.

"Well then, Mr. Lupin, my point shouldn't be lost on you."

"It's not," Remus said with a casual shrug, glancing over to James and Lily who were merely observers of the conversation rather than participants. "I understand what you mean. I just don't think people should become so wealthy on such minimal talent…"

Sirius didn't respond.

Remus noticed the silence that settled over the table and his smile faded. He sat up straight, fiddling with the corner of his napkin, realizing his error.

"I… I mean… like Abromovic. She's so wealthy and she… well… she hasn't produced anything… and galleries keep bringing her in and, well, she… uh…"

Two servers arrived at their table, placing a plate in front of each person, and Remus had never been more grateful for a distraction.

"Ah! Wonderful!" James exclaimed, drawing the table's attention to himself. He smiled across at Remus, as if to say that all was well, but Remus could tell that something was off with Sirius. The artist glanced over to his right, where the gallerist was digging into his dinner.

With a shrug, Remus focused his attention on his steak, and the moment he took a bite, all of his worries faded away.

Remus had never tasted meat like this before. It was soft and tender, dripping with juices and a punch of flavour. His knife slid through the meat so easily, so effortlessly, revealing a perfectly pink interior. This was the most delicious meal Remus had ever eaten in his entire life.

No wonder rich people are always so happy. I'd be happy too, if I could eat this whenever I wanted.

Remus knew he'd never be able to properly enjoy a steak again, it would always be compared to the perfect dish before him.

"So Remus," Lily began, once their plates were beginning to empty. "If you don't like Abromovic or Koons, which artists do you like?"

Remus grinned at his friend as he set his fork and knife down.

"And I'm assuming I can't just say myself?"

Lily and James both laughed at his joke, but Sirius' face twisted into a scowl.

"A little proud of yourself, are we?"

Remus' gaze returned to Sirius, trying to read the man; he couldn't tell if his joke was lost on Sirius or if the man simply lacked a sense of humour.

"I mean, I didn't name a gallery after myself…"

Another pause. The table seemed to hold its collective breath as Remus' taunt landed.

Sirius' lips parted in a grin, and he let out a sharp laugh. Remus felt his body release the tension he didn't realize the was holding, his shoulders relaxing and a breath escaping his lungs.

Thank god.

Sirius laughing meant that Remus didn't put the rest of his life at risk. He was, however, beginning to despise the minefield that was this dinner, waiting for his next slip up, waiting for his world to explode.

"That's funny, Mr. Lupin." Sirius said, after a good chuckle. "Very funny. Especially considering the fact that up until very recently, it was your desire to show in that gallery."

Shit.

"Oh shush," James butted in, before anyone else could say anything. "Learn to take a joke, Sirius. Don't be so—"

"Don't say it, James!" Lily warned, barely containing her grin.

"I was merely playing along!" Sirius teased, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol and laughter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. His gaze flickered toward Remus, and the artist felt his heart skip a beat. Sirius was a very handsome man, and laughter looked particularly good on him. He was attractive no matter what he did, any way that he held himself. When he smiled, though…

Remus quickly looked away, directing his attention to the remnants on his plate. When Sirius smiled, his eyes lit up, as blinding as the sun kissing the sky on a perfect winter day. They were the very shade of snow beneath a tree, the lightest of blues, perfectly undisturbed. Sirius' cheeks bore the morning blush of a sunrise, the colour of the sky just as it threatened to turn blue. Next to the creamy glow of his face, it took on an almost ethereal quality.

Remus loved the colours of Sirius.

And he hated how much he loved it.

"Any coffee with your dessert, sir?"

Remus thought his heart might have exploded with the shock of being wrenched from his thoughts. He looked up at the server with a look of panic, having completely forgotten where he was.

"Um… no, no thank you. I'm fine," he mumbled, tearing his eyes from the server and keeping them focused on the chocolate torte that had been placed in front of him.

Thank god.

Nothing could redirect Remus' imagination quite like chocolate, and he was thoroughly grateful for the distraction.

Dessert passed with minimal conversation as everyone savoured their delicacies. As discussion resumed, it veered away from art, and Remus found himself listening more than talking. Eventually, the server came by the table, and Remus realized that his perfect meal and fantasy evening was about to come to an abrupt and painful close.

"Will there be anything else you need?"

"No, just the bill, please," James said politely.

"Together or separate?"

"Together."

Together?

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it; he waited for the server to leave before he rounded on James.

"You really don't have to do that, James. Honestly, I can't let you—"

"Nonsense!" James said with an enthusiastic flap of his hand. "Of course I'm paying! This dinner is my treat!"

"But it really—"

"Remus, I invited you to join us! It's my pleasure!"

Remus knew he should be happy, he should feel relieved; his whole night had been laced with anxiety as he thought about the ludicrous cheque that was waiting for him. Instead, Remus felt guilty. He felt like he was in debt to James, like he owed the man. There was no way he could accept a gift this generous without repaying the favour.

"You don't have to," Remus mumbled, feeling the weight of his words press down on his shoulders. He was damned either way, but at least if he paid for his meal, he wouldn't be indebted to anyone.

"I know," James said, his smile never faltering. "I don't have to do anything. I want to. Now, back to the real matter at hand…" James turned to Sirius. He was clearly finished with the discussion about the bill, and Remus knew better than to push.

"Yes, James?" Sirius said, quirking a brow playfully.

"Now that you've had a proper opportunity to get to know Remus, have you come to any important decisions?"

Remus' heart was suddenly in his throat, beating more rapidly than he thought possible. How could he have forgotten about Sirius' decision to have him in the gallery?

"As a matter of fact," Sirius purred, his smile crooked and sly. He turned to Remus, his chin tilted slightly upwards, a flash of pearly white teeth enclosed between tender lips that Remus wanted to forget about. "I have."

Remus' grip tightened on his napkin and he sank into his chair as the silence and anticipation steadily grew worse.

"Well?!" James was on the edge of his seat, clearly not a patient man. Lily had her hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him at bay.

"Remus, I require no less than five pieces in order to begin displaying your work. I would like to have them by our next show, which will be towards the beginning of November. Do you think you can accomplish that for me?"

Remus was at a loss for words. He nodded fervently, unable to get his voice out.

"Good. I'll have my lawyers work up a contract. You can come by the gallery on Monday to sign it and discuss details."

Remus couldn't believe what was happening. He pinched himself on his forearm, trying to ensure that this was not some kind of vivid dream. As a jolt of pain shot through his arm, a smile spread across his face.

As far as he could tell, it was all real...

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mementofloreo-archived · 3 years

Text

@viisiond || semi-plotted starter || lol u come here often? ;)

Nettle is more settled in Monstadt now than he was when he arrived a few months ago, just weeks before the problems with Stormterror- no, Dvalin- began.

While he hasn't made many friends or become very close with anyone, he's been able to form friendly rapport with the people he works with at the Adventurer's Guild, some of hi sister's regular customers, and a few other frequent visitors of the library. Considering he's only interacted with about three people outside of his family in his life, it's actually a lot of progress on his part.

When he steps into Angel's Share, it's only his second time going there alone. He's usually with his sister or her wife if he goes out for drinks or a meal. This is more because he doesn't see a point in going out to eat all alone when he could just make something at home.

It's been a much longer and more tedious day than he expected, though- nothing truly terrible happened, but a few things ended up being much more time consuming and demanding than he initially expected. And he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being outright drunk, so he doesn't tend to drink very much- but one or two drinks helps him relax and settle down without doing much more than making his head buzz a little.

He makes a point not to drink at home, though. He knows his sisters wouldn't mind too much, as long as he makes sure to keep any spirits he buys in a place where his five year old nephew can't stumble upon them by mistake. But he feels much more comfortable this way.

He prefers sweeter drinks in general. White wine over red wine, cider over beer. If he drinks anything hard on its own, it's usually a fruity sort of brandy.

He'd never had dandelion wine prior to his family's move to Monstadt, though he wasn't a stranger to its reputation.

Nettle is a dendro vision user- but more importantly, he loves flowers and plants of all kinds. He was reading everything he could about them long before he ever became a vision bearer. That said, he's well acquainted with the versatility of dandelions for use as food. Every part of the plant is edible and has a different taste. The roots make a very hearty tasting tea, one that actually resembles coffee more than anything, though less acidic. The leaves are a bit bitter and earthy- he's heard them compared to endive before.

It's the flowers that are used in making wine, though. They're lightly sweet and the wine made from them has a taste reminiscent of a white wine- a less sweet variety than dessert wines like moscato, but even so it's still delicious.

Nettle finds himself sighing deeply while he sits at the bar sipping at his first glass. There is some chatter and bustle around him, but it's not so busy that the noise is overwhelming. Instead it's a pleasant hum in the background.

Angel's Share recently added an upright piano to its decor, and Nettle can hear somebody plinking out a simple song on it. He's a fairly adept self-taught musician, but thinking about playing where anyone other than his family can hear still intimidates him a bit. He knows the song though, and hums along softly, working to relax his breathing and let the tension out of his back and shoulders.

Since his eyes are closed, he doesn't realize someone has sat down next to him until they speak.

"Ah, you have good taste," they say. A smooth and masculine voice with a slightly lilting tone. Nettle opens his eyes, blinks, and looks to his left.

Having spent a lot of time in the library and having become friends with Lisa, Nettle knows a little about Kaeya Alberich even though they've never met or spoken. He would know something anyway, seeing as he's a ranking officer with the knights- and apparently a local heartthrob of sorts. This is the first time he's seen the cavalry captain up close, though.

...Ah, right. Nettle recalls Lisa saying that Kaeya is very fond of dandelion wine- or more specifically, the Death After Noon cocktail in which it is used.

Nettle is a bit blank for a moment- mostly because he wasn't expecting anybody to talk to him at all, but he's also a little struck by Kaeya's face. His features are pretty- in a sturdy and masculine way, though. Not delicate and rounded like his sister. Privately, he decides he understands why people call him a heartthrob now.

"I'd never had it before I moved here," he finally says, voice quiet, "But yes, it's good. A little drier than the white wines I normally prefer...tastes more like chardonnay than moscato."

His reply is much longer than he planned, but he hasn't said anything strange so he tries not to let it bother him. Kaeya leans his chin on one hand with a little smile of his face that absolutely reeks of mischief.

"With a cute little face like yours I'm not surprised you prefer sweet flavors," he says easily.

Nettle pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth and turns to stare, completely bewildered.

He's fully aware that he's just been fed a "line." He's also heard of Kaeya's reputation for having a silver tongue and a bit of a flirtatious personality.

...Still, nobody has ever flirted with him in his life. And Nettle doesn't see himself as particularly memorable or attractive either. So while he understands there probably isn't anything too serious intended with the compliment, he's not sure why it was given in the first place.

Finally, he manages to slowly say, "........well, dendro slimes are cute too, if you tilt your head just right. Nothing special about it."

He knows his face is a bit flushed, though.

#nettle tag #viisiond(kaeya)#nettle vc sir are u perhaps ill. delirious maybe. already drunk? either way u need ur eye checked.

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simping-on-the-daily · 3 years

Text

It would be unfair to do just Chelsea for these. ;p Here’s Aisha!

Credit to @luxet for her questions!

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? “SoundCloud. I just have a more easier time with it.” is your room messy or clean? “My bedroom is clean, as well as my room located in the corner of Thomas’ mind.” what color are your eyes? “I have blue eyes with slit pupils.” do you like your name? why? “I think Aisha is a suitable name.” what is your relationship status? “Taken.” describe your personality in 3 words or less “Analytical, Sharp, Rational.” what color hair do you have? “My hair’s an indigo leaning towards purple.” what kind of car do you drive? color? “I don’t drive, but a blue Sedan would be nice.” where do you shop? “You can’t really shop in the Mind Palace, but I like the bookstores.” how would you describe your style? “Smart Casual.” favorite social media account “Reddit and Wattpad both have....interesting things, but they are still my favorites.” what size bed do you have? “I have a Full XL.” any siblings? “I do not have any siblings.” if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? “I think I live in the best place already.” favorite snapchat filter? “The face swap filter is both a blessing and a curse.” favorite makeup brand(s) “L’Oréal.” how many times a week do you shower? “One in the morning and one before I go to bed.” favorite tv show? “I have a guilty pleasure of Netflix original shows.” shoe size? “My foot size is around the 10s, I think.” how tall are you? “6′0.” sandals or sneakers? “Sneakers don’t make an annoying slapping sound when they hit the ground, so them.” do you go to the gym? “No, I do not.” describe your dream date “Some people think that stargazing is my dream date, but Logan just got me into that. I truthfully prefer cafes, but as long as we are content doing the activity together, that’s the only thing that matters.” how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? “Right now, I have $80.” what color socks are you wearing? “I’m wearing white socks at the moment. Weird question.” how many pillows do you sleep with? “One.” do you have a job? what do you do? “No, I do not.” how many friends do you have? “All of the Sides are understandably good friends of mine.” whats the worst thing you have ever done? “I’d prefer to talk about the situation when I’m ready.” whats your favorite candle scent? “I don’t like candle scents.” 3 favorite boy names “I have an interest in Gabriel, Noah and Charles.” 3 favorite girl names “Minerva, Athena and Anne are some of my favorite's.” favorite actor? “I hate to be biased, but Thomas Sanders does a great job at acting.” favorite actress? “Jennifer Lawrence’s work is truly admirable.” who is your celebrity crush? “Mark Ruffalo may be known for giving out spoilers, but he does terrific performances.” favorite movie? “Same answer as below.” do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? “..........Why are you making me choose?” money or brains? “Brains.” do you have a nickname? what is it? “Who doesn’t have a nickname, honestly? Roman has plenty of them for me.” how many times have you been to the hospital? “None. We all have a sort of healing factor, and I am responsible enough to avoid any accidents.” top 10 favorite songs “I believe some of them were also mentioned in one of my bios.” do you take any medications daily? “No, I do not.” what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) “I have a normal skin type.” what is your biggest fear? “Needles.” how many kids do you want? “Can we even have children?” whats your go to hair style? “My hair always stays the same: some messy and unbrushed indigo hair leaning into the colour purple. The courtroom scenario was one of the few occasions my hair became more neater.” what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) “Currently, we’re in a beach house. It was Chelsea’s idea, as we create new houses. The Mind Palace is endless.” who is your role model? “I must give teachers their credit for being able to put up with their student’s rowdy behavior.” what was the last compliment you received? “You must hear really well with those pointy ears. Not sure if it’s a compliment or an insult.” what was the last text you sent? “I sent Logan a link to a site explaining the definition of some modern slang.” how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? “It was around my fourth.” what is your dream car? “A Sedan is good enough for me.” opinion on smoking? “My opinion on this? You’re not alone. I can’t stop you from smoking, but please make sure that it’s out of personal interest and not a form of endangering yourself.” do you go to college? “If Thomas went to college, then yes, I technically did. If he didn’t, then I didn’t.” what is your dream job? “I don’t really need a job.” would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? “The suburbs are much more safer.” do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? “No. I have no benefit in taking hotel property.” do you have freckles? “No, I do not freckles. However, Logan does. He just covers them up.” do you smile for pictures? “It depends on the picture we’re talking about.” how many pictures do you have on your phone? “We don’t have a storage limit, and right now I have around 400 in my gallery.” have you ever peed in the woods? “You’re assuming that I go in the woods.” do you still watch cartoons? “Cartoons are still shows, regardless of the artistic style. Yes, I do.” do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? “Wendy’s.” Favorite dipping sauce? “My favourite is Honey Mustard.” what do you wear to bed? “I wear a lot of dressing gowns.” have you ever won a spelling bee? “When your opponent is Patton, you’re bound to be victorious.” what are your hobbies? “I believe they’re listed in a bio already posted.” can you draw? “Yes, but I’m better art digital art then traditional.” do you play an instrument? “Nope. But since it doesn’t impact my daily life, it doesn’t bother me.” what was the last concert you saw? “It depends on the last concert Thomas went to.” tea or coffee? “Tea. It’s much more relaxing and is less bitter then coffee.” Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? “Starbucks has a lot more variety in their food choices.” do you want to get married? “I’m not a fan of weddings. It reinforces the fact that you need a giant celebration to prove your love instead of acts of trust and loyalty. Maybe that’s why I chose the callback instead.....” what is your crush’s first and last initial? “L.S. Logan Sanders.” are you going to change your last name when you get married? “Perhaps.” what color looks best on you? “Indigo and black are my more iconic colours, but I do appreciate some purple in my attire once in a while.” do you miss anyone right now? “Not as this particular time, no.” do you sleep with your door open or closed? “The door is closed, but not locked.” do you believe in ghosts? “In the Mind Palace, anything can happen. Ghosts are childsplay compared to the other supernatural creatures in here.” what is your biggest pet peeve? ”Clicking pens, unnecessarily revving your engines, waking you up in the middle of the night and then saying ‘oh did I wake you up?’ as well as bashing a book or film when you haven’t seen it.” last person you called ”I had to call Remus. I can’t remember the details, but it involved something with pencil cases.” favorite ice cream flavor? “Buttermilk and black sesame ginger are delicious and underrated.” regular oreos or golden oreos? “I prefer the regular Oreos.” chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? “I don’t enjoy sprinkles a whole lot. I prefer to cover my desserts with chocolate syrup.” what shirt are you wearing? “I’m currently wearing an off the shoulder top, coloured a dark navy blue with star patterns.” what is your phone background? “The night sky. It’s aesthetically pleasing.” are you outgoing or shy? “I would prefer to call myself an ambivert.” do you like it when people play with your hair? “Playing with my hair? That’s fine.” But don’t try to get rid of the knots or try and brush it.” do you like your neighbors? “The Dark Sides live right next to us in their house, and I have a neutral opinion about the lot of them. Remus is okay, though. I’m not a fan of Deceit.” do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? “I wash my face after brushing my teeth.” have you ever been high? “I know that if I answer this question, the readers will probably warp it into some form of suggestive content.” have you ever been drunk? “I’m not sure if we can get drunk? I might have to ask Logan that later.” last thing you ate? “My last meal was some noodles and meatballs.” favorite lyrics right now “The following lyrics are from the song Just The Way You Are by Bruno Mars.” When I see your face There's not a thing that I would change 'Cause you're amazing Just the way you are summer or winter? “Winter. The cold air gives more chances for indoor activities as well as a nice aesthetic.” day or night? “The night is much calmer, so I’ll prefer that.” dark, milk, or white chocolate? “Dark chocolate. I believe that the bitter taste makes it good.” favorite month? “July, I’m not sure why, but I get some happy during the seventh month.” what is your zodiac sign ”While I wasn’t ‘born’, per say, my creation was during the constellation of Capricorn, so I’ll go with that.” who was the last person you cried in front of? “It was a pretty long time ago, but I think it was Deceit. Back when we were kids.”

#sander sides #sanders sides #fander sides #sander sides ocs #sanders sides ocs #fander sides ocs #sander sides aisha #ocs #oc questions #luxet questions

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apelcini · 4 years

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💋🌹 🔥🍊📙😊⭐💛 🌳🍐💙🌸💗 ik it's a lot sorry sdghf letting you decide which oc you wanna do

💋 How affectionate are they with their friends? Their family? Their romantic partner(s) (if they have any)? Are they more physical or emotional when it comes to displaying their affection? Why?

Mymlanslös is aloof and withdrawn, but that’s actually a good thing for her. Back when she lived with her mother she had to shout and fight and scrap for any attention, constantly, and all she wanted to do was exist without having to fight for space. She’s a real loud problem child when she first comes to live with her pappas, but she slowly learns that this is a home with room enough for her. She starts to get quieter and smaller as she shrinks back to her intended size, and moomin is really worried about her, but snufkin assures him that she’s fine. Now her family mostly gives her affection verbally, and they wait for her to come to them for physical affection, which she’s starting to do more and more. On that note, when she gets older, she starts to get more and more irritated by interaction with her hair, compliments and brushing and braiding and all, until one day when she’s 14 she chops it all off, the whole red signal flame that she’s just got to tie into a bun and then she’s a mymble, a woman who has so many children she can’t love them all. She never grows it out again.

🌹 How easy is it for them to connect with others and make friends? On the flip side how easy is it for them to make an enemy of someone? Are they the kind of person who hangs around the food table at a party and never talks to anyone or are they the type who can talk to anyone?

Nellie and Oliver are both outcasts. She’s autistic and jew(ish?) and aroaceagender, he’s fat and trans and probably adhd. They met in kindergarten and stayed friends out of pure luck of finding someone like them (this is NOT unrealistic don’t @ me this is personal experience). Oliver wanted to connect but he just got so tired of everyone he became very abrasive to people he didn’t already like. Nellie just.. doesn’t care. She connects when she can but honestly she finds most human connection lacking. They’re the type to hang out back at a dance and goof off.

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colours, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

Nellie likes frogs and crunchy leaves and cold air on her face. she loves sweaters but she hates the wool texture, but she refuses to just wear oversized hoodies because she’s too pretentious. Her favorite color is actually purple (like plum) but she looks better in warm tones. She doesn’t really like blue and green, and she doesn’t like pastels. She doesn’t like sun because then it’s too warm for sweaters and it’s far too bright. Her favorite music is actually ragtime, but anything that’s not synth is pretty good in her book (she’s autistic and it grates her). She’s a goth in bright colors, really.

🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes?

I’m gonna share least favorite meal, because it’s funnier. Fillikin HATES fish. Despises it. Her mother hated it too and never fed it to her, and she never got used to it. it’s an essential travel staple especially when traveling with Snufkin but she just. cannot stomach it. When she first came to live with her pappas, back when they weren’t really her pappas but were these two queer men in the woods who took her in and she wanted to impress them she pretended she enjoyed fish. It wasn’t very convincing, and Snufkin mysteriously started having bad luck with fishing, often only managing a decent catch once a month. This went on for as long as was needed until she confessed that she didn’t like it. Her favorite food will always be her Moominpappa’s blueberry pancakes :-)

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun? What things bore your OC to tears and they couldn’t care less about? Why?

Nellie loooves history. She can talk for hours about it, and she does her best to research what REALLY happened. She knows huge swathes of the Dewey decimal system because the internet in her town sucks. This skill is just a neat little quirk based off of my own experience as a history nerd.

She hates English class, she’s smart and good at puzzles but she can’t figure out riddles and metaphors and anything with words. She’s story driven but language itself doesn’t come easily, at least not in a way that makes sense to other people, and she’s so frustrated and jealous of people who can write poetry and stuff.

😊 What can make your OC smile even when they’re feeling down? What cheers them up and makes everything feel better for them? Is your OC genrally a happy person and do they enjoy making others smile? What about your OC makes others happy?

Peter likes to get in his car and drive out of town, just drive and he’s alone in the car and on the road and the scenery changes. He’ll drive half an hour or so out, chill for a bit, and then drive back home. He likes the distance, it clears his head. He’s a somewhat high strung person despite being pretty hands-off. No one really comes to him for emotional support, but he’s pretty good at solving problems so people who know him come to him for that.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

Nellie: watching it all disappear and she can’t stop it, it’s turning to ash in her hands and her loved ones are in danger and there’s nothing she can do. Being a bad person through inaction, letting awful people get away with awful things. Also being stalked or followed in the dark, she has a huge phobia of night monsters which is pretty reasonable when you consider where she lives. She carries around a big flashlight for this reason.

💛 In general, how in control of their emotions is your OC? Do they have a good hold on them or do their emotions control them, not the other way around? What do you think is the reason behind this and is your OC ever concerned about their lack of or good control?

Peter is remarkably good with his emotions for a teenaged boy. Unfortunately, he’s not very good with his emotions for someone who’s co-parenting a teen. Nellie and peter’s mother has her head in the cloud, and Peter’s been filling in for the gaps in her memory for as long as he could remember. He’s very good at compartmentalizing and repressing, but he’s got no clue how to actually deal with his emotions. He’s proud of himself for this and is willfully ignoring the inevitable breakdown when he leaves home.

🌳 Compare your OC to themself from 10 years ago. How has their mental state changed since then, how have they aged and grown up? Would they say they’re in a better place than they were back then or do they need help? What advice would they give their younger self? What advice would their younger self give to them now?

Nellie would tell her younger self to keep writing, even if out of spite. To not stop. To not listen to the people who tell her to stop, because she did stop and it was relief at the time but now she really, really regrets it. Now she’s past the point where she can write bad prose in confidence and practice without breaking down, and to her it’s too late to ever start. Her younger self would tell her that adults aren’t all bad, that they want to help you, that they don’t all hate you. She’d tell her that people are worth reaching out to. After all, she reached out to Oliver.

🍐 What is your OC’s mentality? Are they overall positive? Negative? A bit of both? Describe their thought patterns and reasoning behind their choice making!

She’s... passionate. Nellie believes in people being fundamentally human and having a great capacity for both good and evil, and she is always enraged when people turn to evil. Her mother may not have made her lunch every day, but she did impart some wisdom on her and Nellie’s gonna use it. She believes in compassion and friendship to a frankly naive degree, and is always torn when she has to fight a monster. Oliver is more cynical and bitter and jaded, since his parents aren’t forgetful but just very cold. Go to school and spar with your classmates for survival, go home and jostle with your siblings for survival, wrestle your parents for your rights, bump into a beast and fight it. It’s all the same. He thinks she’s being silly when she tries to befriend these abominations and he’s worried for her safety. She thinks he’s being cruel. This is their main source of tension.

💙 What did your OC want to be when they grew up and why? Did they have any lifelong dreams or ambitions they never got to work on or are they currently working to achieve this dream? Has their life taken a very unexpected turn and put all these plans on hold for a while or have they given up on any dreams?

Nellie always wanted to be a writer, she wanted to write historical fiction. She tried to keep this dream alive, she tried so hard, but relentless ableism from the public school whittled away at this tree until it fell with a whimper. She wants to be an engineer now. She’s good at math, it’s like a puzzle. A very boring puzzle. She‘ll get a job and pay the bills.

🌸 What does your OC’s voice sound like? Their laugh? Are they good at singing? Do they have an accent?

Oliver has a voice that’s like a mix of cavetown’s earlier work and Sidney gish. It’s a nice voice but he hates it so much. He snorts when he laughs and his voice is even higher when he sings. No one there really has an accent besides the backwoods slur (how about it sounds like howa bowdit, twenty rhymes with honey). Nellie’s voice is lower than his and she doesn’t even CARE. He hates every sound that comes out of his mouth but it’s not enough to stop him from talking, he has too many opinions for that.

💗 What would your OC say is their best feature? Why? What do their friends / family / lover(s) / people they know think is their best feature and why?

Fillikin likes her hair. It’s wild, it’s windswept, it’s tangled, it’s a mess. It drives her moominpappa insane but he can’t do anything about it because it’s her hair and she has the right to let it grow into an abomination instead of brushing it. It is the ultimate fuck you to her mother who was oh so attached to her only daughter’s hair. It gets so bad at one point that she gets her matt stuck to a tree while traveling and Snufkinpappa has to chop it off with his knife to get her free. The cut is messy and terrible and she’s DELIGHTED. She swears she’s gonna keep it so ugly and choppy forever but she forgets to cut it, and it gets long and matted until she gets stuck to something again.

Send me oc asks

#thank uuu lance #<3 #answered #ask games #moomin ocs #carrionthird #the normal school #nellie burton #peter burton #oliver sullivan #fillikin #mymlanslös #older moomins

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amenomiko · 5 years

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IkeSen Husbands and Couvade Syndrome

Before I start, have you ever heard about Couvade Syndrome? Couvade Syndrome is a syndrome of where a husband will have the symptoms like a pregnant woman (vomitting, and craving for certain foods) due to the stress in his body towards the unborn baby (out of love and concerned for his baby).

So I'm thinking... How would it be if all the warlords have this kind of syndrome. Some norms said it can be shown that it will happen by showing the signs the wife might be pregnant (in my country, yes. So I'm going to use it here *giggles*) and during their pregnancy. Here it comes..!

Nobunaga

He brush his hand on her forehead. "Are you sure you don't need me to call for the doctor?"

She nodded, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry I couldn't attend the war council today."

"Don't be." He kissed her forehead. "Just rest."

He left the room when suddenly he feel uneasy in his chest. He shrug it off, and continue to walk to the council.

They've served some sake that Nobunaga has gotten as a gift with his new alliance that day. His face scrunched the moment he smell on the sake and his cup dropped from his hand, gaining attention from his warlords and vassals.

"...Nobunaga-sama?" Hideyoshi put down his own cup before approaching Nobunaga when his Lord cup his mouth all of a sudden, giving out a sound of hurling from his throat. "M-my Lord..! What's the matter??"

"G-get that sake away from me..! I feel awful...!" He hurled again, clutching on his stomach. "Wh- is it poisoned??" Hideyoshi turn to the other warlords.

"All of us drink it and we are fine. Nobunaga-sama is the only one who haven't drink it." Mitsunari added.

Before they check on the contains of sake, MC had excuses herself into the room with a smile on her face. "Pardon me, Anata-" She gasped. "Anata..? What's wrong??"

He turned to her. "...Fireball. Tell me."

"Yes?"

"Are you perhaps.. Pregnant?"

"Eh- wh- how did you know?? I'm about to tell you about it because I realize that I'm late lately."

He nodded weakly. "I see. That's good. Seems like I will get caught in this sickness for a while." He hugged MC close, as the hurling sensation in his chest fades slowly.

Hideyoshi

Talking about stress for his unborn baby, that will be suitable for Hideyoshi.

Each and every pregnancy of MC will be handled by Hideyoshi's body. This morning, MC informed to her husband that she is pregnant for their 4th child (wow wee 👀).

He was happy. Yet.. He said to himself. "Alright..! Here's another one. I can do this..! I'm sure I can handle it this time--"

Nope, the very next morning he woke up abruptly and vomitted in the nearby garden. He even walk around the hallways, with small stash of plum in his pocket.

He cried emotionally whenever MC talk to the baby, saying "My wife.. I'm sorry for making you pregnant with my child and making you tired and--"

"Anata.. There there." It will be MC's routine to calm him down. "It takes two to make a baby after all. So it's not your fault. Besides.." She whispered to him. "It's not your fault that I'm so adorable in your eyes." She winked.

"....THIS is the REASON why INDEED!" He pounced MC and kiss her all over until

"Mmmf- b-be right back, My Love."

Poor Hideyoshi.

Masamune

"Here you go Kitten." He blew the fish soup and feed his wife. "Aaahnn~~?"

"Pffft Honey, I can eat by myself okay?" She slurp on the soup and cough after, scrunching her face from the taste. "Masamune.. What did you put inside-- is that a sour plum??"

"Oh yes, I find that sour plum in every dish is very tasty nowadays don't you think?" He slurped it himself. "Hmm such delicacy."

"PPPPUUUUUU!!!"

"...Delicacy my foot." Ieyasu wipe his mouth with his sleeves.

"See? Ieyasu likes it too."

"Go and have your only eye checked OAO..!!

"I can see perfectly fine, Ieyasu, thank you for your concern 😏👉✨."

"This is delicious, Ieyasu. Why do you say so?" Mitsuhide smiled to his fish soup.

".....You and your sense of taste.... I'm out of here."

"No leaving the room before you finish your meal, Ieyasu! Nobunaga-sama, I saw that. Don't add your soup into mine..!" - Hideyoshi.

Ieyasu

He tossed in his sleep. Again and again, until he jolted to run out and vomit.

"Again.." She pursed her lips, as she pour the tea in his cup. "Honey.. Are you okay?"

"..I'm fine. This is nothing. Noth- uff-!" He vomitted again and MC had to rush and rub on his back. He waved his hand, urging MC to get back inside. "I'm fine- just-" He hurled. "Go back inside-- uff..!!"

She rubbed her belly, smiling at her husband. "Aww Honey." After rubbing his back, she kissed his temple. "Here, I've made a tea that can make you sleep easily." She glances at his panda eyes that lacks of sleep ever since she is pregnant with their 3rd child.

He nods, sighing tiredly and drinks the tea. "How are you doing?" He leans and rest on her shoulder as he put his hand on her growing belly. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you who always take over those sickness for me."

"Hn.. This is nothing.. Compared to you who have to carry it for 9 months and.." He yawn. "Giving birth to it.." He sighs before a soft snore takes over him.

"Good night, Honey." She kissed him again.

Mitsunari

"MC.. I.." He pat on his chest. "I don't feel very good.. I-" He cup his mouth. "Nnn-"

"Aww Honey.. There there.." They hugged each other as she rub around his back. "Is this how every woman usually face when they are pregnant?"

"Uhuh."

"Wow.. I respect you a lot." He hugged MC closer, nuzzling into her neck. "I swear I will take care of you until we grow old together.."

"Oh? He fell asleep." With book in his hand. "I haven't give birth yet and I already have a big baby here-"

Suddenly he woke up in shock.

"A-anata??"

He hurled. "Unf-..!" And run out from the room as quick as possible.

"Honey, wait..! The bucket is here..! You will vomit halfway again!"

Mitsuhide

It was when he's on a mission. He can feel the uneasiness in his stomach and chest when he ride the horse, and he find himself being extra tired, more than before after a long ride.

Due to it too, he is lack of sleep. His network of spies noticed too, even his ninja suggest that he should rest. "I'm fine." He grinned, fighting back the feeling.

He had no problem with eating, but every time he eat, he will vomit. Mitsuhide didn't know how to respond to this situation, to have this wave of sickness; it is not him.

Somehow he manage it until he return to Azuchi after capturing the criminals. As he about to ask them questions, he pauses. Turning as his back facing his man to pat on his chest.

"Well lad are you alright? Do you have a wife? You should check if she's pregnant. Heh. It's a common thing if a husband gets the signs before the wife."

He blinked, looking at the criminal from his shoulder as he shrugged before continuing "I'm a doctor in disguise remember? I didn't take my disguise lightly."

"..My lord? Where are you going?" One of his ninja asked. "Take over my place for a while." He rushed to MC's bed chamber and before he could slide the door, she already opened it from inside. "Oh- oh..! Anata..! Welcome home!" She hugged him and he smiled into her neck.

"You look so happy. More than happy. You miss me that bad, little mouse?" He grinned and his heart give a thump! when she blushed.

"Of course I'm happy.. Because.. I have a good news to tell you..!"

"You are pregnant?"

She gasped. "Hehehe as expected from my husband. Yes..! I am, Mitsuhide..!"

He smiled back. All that sickness and "thanks" to the criminal back then.. He finally understand it.

Kenshin

Sasuke served another bowl of sour plum, sweet plums and bitter plums. "So this is what the syndrome does.." He adjusts his glasses. "Kenshin-sama. Did you realize you've been eating plums for almost 5 months?"

"It's normal, Sasuke. If it's for my wife and our child, I'm fine. But-" He clicked his tongue. "I can't find myself to drink sake for now."

"Well, it's her 3rd pregnancy, you should get used to it, yes?"

"...Not me." Shingen sighed.

Kenshin snatched the dango from Shingen's plate and eat it with one of his plums. "Hnn. Such peculiar taste. I don't hate it." He smiled before having another bite from it.

Shingen eyes twitch from Kenshin's appetite. "Oh the horror."

Yukimura: That's me with your endless appetite for desserts, Shingen-sama.

Shingen

"Hmhmhm this is delicious..! Oh this one too."

"Anata, eat slowly okay? Or else you will-"

"Mmmf--" He hurl and vomitted right on spot into the bucket.

"See?" MC blinked when her husband suddenly wiped his tears.

"*sniff* Ah, I'm sorry MC. You are so tempting and I made you pregnant again. My beloved Goddess, sacrificing herself for her people that is overwhelmed with lust.. Ah such sin..!" He wipe his mouth with his sleeve.

".....Oh god." MC eye twitched.

".....Oh god again." Yukimura twitched too to his overly dramatic lord.

"Hmm. I feel like eating.." He's eying Kenshin's plums this time.

"......Die."

"*sniff* How heartless you are (ಥ ͜ʖಥ)."

"You are not the one who is pregnant here Shingen." He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah of course. But it took half of me to make her pregna-"

His mouth is shoved with 5 dumpling after that. By MC.

Yukimura

He pointed forward. "CHARRRRGE!!!" All of his vassals roar in unison as they charge towards their enemy, clashing swords with one another.

"Good. It seems we are win-" He frowned when he choked on his own voice all of a sudden. His hand immediately move to cup his mouth as he hurl his stomach out. "Mmf- what the hell-" He don't remember if he had a bad meal before going into battle.

"Yukimura!!""Huh- wha- oof!!"

Shingen had grabbed him by his collar as arrow fly pass his right ear. "What's wrong?? Are you alright? I'm confused because you have stopped talking and hold your stomach. Did you get stabbed or something?"

"No.. Shingen-sama. I don't know- mmf- myself. Feel like vomitting. I didn't remember having any meal this morning."

"Oho-" His lord kicked the enemy off from his horse. "Whatever it is I think you should check on your beloved wife the moment you get back home. Make sure you are home safely alright?"

"H-huh- what do you mean?"

"Well Yuki, all I gotta say is Congratulations first." He winked at Yukimura before kicking his horse.

"Wha??"

As he win the war and got back to his wife, he hug her tighter than before. "I heard that you got sick in the middle of the fight.. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No.. Uhm.." He blushed. "H-hey."

"Hm?"

"Do you have something to tell me? Like.. You are pre-pregnant or something."

"My, honey..! Yes! I'm pregnant with our 2nd child..!" She giggled. "How did you know? Ah, I get it. You've forgotten your previous sickness when I'm pregnant right?"

"The first and the second one is different, okay??" He pouted before laughing with his beloved wife.

Sasuke

Kenshin circle his hands around his sword, glaring at his target with a smile curved on his lips. "Die, Sasuke..!" But then, he immediately halt when Sasuke turned around with maternity dress on his ninja costume.

"Just... What in hell you are wearing, Sasuke?"

"Kenshin-sama. It's time for 9 months break. I'm pregnant now. So red card~!" He said with his "enthusiastic" look.

"....It was your wife who is pregnant, not you."

"You are right. But the one who is- mmf-" He cupped his mouth. "Vomitting-" He swallowed, "..is me-"

For the very first time, Kenshin is dumbfounded. Not only his ninja is wearing a weird clothes, now he is hurling in front of him. "...Hmh fine. You are no fun at all."

"Hmm?" Kenshin look down to his torso. It was Sasuke eldest son. "Kenshin-sama, you may spar with me. As you can see, my father is pregnant, so you must allow him to have a rest."

"My son.. I'm proud of you." Sasuke feigning to wipe his 'tears'.

"...Fine. Let's go then." He took mini Sasuke by the hand (bawww - he has a soft spot for Sasuke's son tho) and his son give a thumbs up to his father. "Go ahead and rest, Father."

He thumbs up back with his usual poker face.

And back to his room..

"Anata, stop using my dress to escape from Kenshin. I know you are sick in my place but at least don't teach our son the wrong thing, okay?"

"Hmm MC you are no fun."

"Yeah, yeah." She giggled as she pulled her dress back from her husband.

#ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen Sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku yukimura #ikemen sengoku Shingen #ikemen sengoku sasuke

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ophvichus · 4 years

Text

–––– pack q & a part i !!

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee?

what is their scent like?

what is their favorite season?

what is their favorite holiday?

what is their style?

aoife:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she takes the sweetest, most sugar-filled thing on the menu!!! she’s pretty comfortable with changing it up, but if she can taste even the slightest hint of bitterness in her coffee, she’ll have a fit. she’s embarrassing.

what is their scent like? usually, very floral!! she only ever uses nature-scented perfumes and shampoo, so the scents of jasmine and lavender cling to her at all times.

what is their favorite season? spring babey!! the idea of newness and rebirth... she’s heavily into that!

what is their favorite holiday? valentine’s day!! the overabundance of love and also chocolate!!! hello!!!

what is their style? weird thing: absolutely loves skirts, absolutely abhors dresses. while she doesn’t stick with a particular color scheme, she does prefer something floral, if she can help it. in the colder months, she’ll stick with pants and a cute shirt, or a pair of tights beneath her skirt and a sweater. also: big into knit sweaters. her sleeves are almost always long. when it comes to jewelry, she isn’t too particular; she’ll wear necklaces or earrings, but she rarely ever wears rings or bracelets, because she hates having attention drawn to her hands or wrists. she doesn’t put much time into her makeup, but she makes sure to look cute and passable at all times!! she always does something different with her hair — curled, straight, in a bun, in pigtails. her hair has to compliment her outfit, it’s essential!!

camden:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? he really isn’t into hot drinks, because of his ptsd? so, if he does get coffee, it’s an iced latte — just enough to get him going for the day, but usually not something he needs. also, on account of having a four-year-old, he always takes home a treat. jeremy (said four-year-old) refuses to eat anything from a cafe that isn’t a bacon cheese sandwich and maybe a cake pop, if he’s in an especially good mood. however, he does not care for caffeine and for that, we gives thanks.

what is their scent like? on account of being a firefighter, he always smells vaguely of smoke. (there’s a lot to be said about a man who fears heat yet continues to run towards it in the interest of saving people.) but he also showers very frequently and tries not to smell like a burning house. he won’t claim to wear any fancy colognes, but he will take whatever scent he can find at a local target and use a bit of it each day to make him smell normal.

what is their favorite season? winter! everyone is just so happy! buying gifts for jeremy tends to run him dry, but it’s worth it.

what is their favorite holiday? christmas, for the reason listed above!

what is their style? he’s surprisingly immodest when it comes to showing off his scars and burns; that is, he doesn’t try to hide them, but he doesn’t try to show them off, either. he tends towards skintight shirts and form-fitting pants, and he prefers lighter colors! whites, pinks, grays, blues — he lives for then. because it’s nearing the cooler months, he’s shifting into long sleeves and thin jackets.

carl:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? like a normal person, he’s chill with regular old coffee — french hazelnut, preferably, little bit of cream and sugar. he also gets a breakfast sandwich to go with it, because he takes his meals very seriously! sometimes, he’ll grab a dessert to go with it — usually a slice of cake or banana bread — but not always. he also has a ten-year-old sister who doesn’t let him have shit to himself, so he usually ends up getting something for her, too, unless he can hide it.

what is their scent like? his grandmother is rich, so he’s not afraid to pick up am expensive bottle of cologne or aftershave. whatever he grabs, it’s strong enough to cover up the scent of wolf, but subtle enough that no one crinkles their nose at it.

what is their favorite season? he prefers fall. it’s cool, it’s pretty, it’s lacrosse season—

what is their favorite holiday? halloween. what’s not fun about halloween??

what is their style? he can dress like a bit of a rich douche, but like... casual. when he’s out of his dp uniform, he’ll have on a sweater or polo and a collared shirt with some khakis and whatever shoe looks nicest with that particular outfit. sometimes, though, he’ll rock a plain shirt and jeans with sneakers; you really gotta catch him on a good day and a chill hour for that, though. he does a subtle makeup, just enough to compliment what he’s wearing. usually has on a watch and an old family ring that belonged to peter.

cora:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she likes her coffee pretty close to black — dark roast with a little bit of cream and a decent amount of sugar. she usually doesn’t get anything to eat, but if she’s buying for bailey and aoife, then the latter will peer pressure her into at least getting a croissant.

what is their scent like? she has a very earthy scent, more natural that evie’s. it’s woodsy, like she’s spent years trampling through rainforests and can’t get the scent out. she smells a little like wood and rain and fresh soil. some find it grounding, some find it gross. cora doesn’t particularly care. she also lights a cinnamon-scented candle every day, so that scent clings to her, too!

what is their favorite season? winter. she just likes the cold.

what is their favorite holiday? new year, new beginnings.

what is their style? due to a lot of psychological stuff, cora still has a lot of burns from the fire. (she also doesn’t remember anything from before the fire. her mind does a lot of work to protect her from grief, but unexplainable guilt still eats at her.) she tries to keep them covered, which isn’t too hard, considering they span from her hip to the top of her chest, with only a few licking up her arms. she doesn’t care about the burns on her arms showing, if only because she’s trying to show evie that scars are nothing to be ashamed of. so she wears a lot of short sleeves and jeans — 99% of the time, she’s wearing black, but if her parents buy her a white shirt, she’s not going to avoid it. she also has an odd fascination with overalls, so she has... more pairs than you’d think. she doesn’t do anything fancy with her hair, it’s either down or in a bun. she also doesn’t really do her makeup; if it’s done, then evie did it and Cora complained the whole time.

daniel:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? he’s a tea person, to be honest! if he does have coffee, it’s pretty similar to brett’s order, but most of the time, he’ll take chamomile tea and can it a day.

what is their scent like? he rocks his armani, my dude. mostly because he’d smell like a lacrosse game if he didn’t and no one thinks that’s a pleasant smell.

what is their favorite season? summer! it’s a time when people release their inhibitions and don’t feel the stress of school. also, pool parties!!!

what is their favorite holiday? lydia has informed him that he is required to say her birthday.

what is their style? he really doesn’t put too much thought into his style. he just... wears what he wears. usually, this means a plain shirt, jeans and sneakers. he wears a corded bracelet that lydia made him when they were eight and... that’s about it. he always looks good anyway, so he doesn’t put much thought into it.

daryl:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? he’ll literally drink anything you put in front of him. he doesn’t like super sweet coffee (aoife: shocked and upset) but if that’s what you give him, he’ll take it. so usually, he just orders black coffee and if he feels like dressing it up a bit, he will. and he’ll try to get a breakfast sandwich or something... pretend he takes care of himself...

what is their scent like? he doesn’t have a particular scent, believe it or not! it’s very intentional, shoutout to scentless soap. if he’s tracking an animal, it won’t pick up on his scent; if he’s hiding from his dad, he won’t pick up on it, either. at most, daryl smells like whoever he’s been around that day.

what is their favorite season? winter; it’s not too hot, there are no leaves to crush under his feet, and it’s not too wet outside, either.

what is their favorite holiday? he doesn’t really have one? st. paddy’s day, maybe. everyone’s drunk, so he doesn’t stand out.

what is their style? very casual, very indistinct. (his entire thing is being unnoticeable. is that because of the hunting or the abuse? yes.) he doesn’t tend towards light or dark clothes, but neutral. grays, blues, greens, browns. His jeans aren’t too baggy, but he really can’t move in the tight stuff, either. his hair is cropped pretty short for the time being, but he has considered letting it grow out a bit. he doesn’t wear any jewelry either, though that’s mainly because he just... doesn’t have any??

derek:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? he takes his coffee straight black. he’s stressed. he’s bisexual. he’s new in town. (or, uh. back in town, anyway.) he doesn’t have time for fancy alterations.

what is their scent like? derek smells a lot like old books and fresh leather. the running theory is that he has some special cologne that gives him those specific scent, but we have yet to discover what cologne that might be. he has a slightly earthy scent to him, too; it’s nothing compared to cora’s scent, but it’s there.

what is their favorite season? spring. he’s a flower guy, he must admit.

what is their favorite holiday? he... doesn’t have one? it’s kind of hard to enjoy the holidays when you think your entire family is dead. but if he had to pick one, it would probably groundhog’s day, because no one really celebrates it and he enjoys the calm.

what is their style? he is, as the kids say, dramatic bisexual. tight shirts and brand name jeans, dark leather jacket, leather shoes. he doesn’t wear designs or stripes or polka dots, because it would contrast his overall aesthetic. he also has a way of making even light colors look dark. he’s wearing blue? it’s dark. he’s wearing white? it’s dark. he might actually be a vampire.

eleanor:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? coffee is disgusting. that’s why she always adds vodka to it. listen, listen! ...don’t judge her. she’ll take a french roast black coffee, like a normal person, and add vodka, which is perfectly reasonable. she’s trying to become a pathologist, goddammit. she’s tired.

what is their scent like? she smells like peppermint. she hates the scent of a science lab and she hates the scent of booze, so she leans towards the most calming scent on earth: peppermint. it clings to her clothes, to her hair, to her breath. but it’s not overwhelming, okay, she’s not trying to turn into a candy cane.

what is their favorite season? summer!! party time, bitchesssss!!!

what is their favorite holiday? halloween! parties and sexy outfits, are you KIDDING???

what is their style? she’s what you’d get if you mixed Derek’s style and post-bite erica’s style. tight shirts and ripped jeans, usually tucked into a cute pair of boots. she also does not shy away from a little cleavage; if you got it, flaunt it! her makeup usually isn’t a concern, so the most she’ll do is a gloss with some eyeliner, but even that’s asking a lot of her. her hair is almost always puled back into a ponytail, because of how much time she spends in the lab, but if she’s going out, then she’ll wear her hair down. she doesn’t really wear jewelry, either. however, she got herself and elise matching necklaces back in high school, and she wears hers every day!

erica:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she usually goes for a chai latte. coffee’s good, if she needs the kick of energy, but for the most part, she’ll stick with her chai, thank you. she should get actual food from coffee shops, but instead of doing that, she’ll grab a couple of cake pops and head home!!

what is their scent like? to a wolf, she always smells faintly of electricity, but to the average human bean, she kind of smells like cheap perfume and incense. post-bite, she’ll smell a little less like electricity and a little more like whatever perfume she bullies derek into buying for her.

what is their favorite season? winter. she likes being able to dress in comfy sweaters and hide away from the world a little bit. post-bite, she’ll have a bit more love for summer and her ability to show off her body, but winter will always reign supreme.

what is their favorite holiday? frankly, she hates holidays, because people always find an excuse to shoot up fireworks and it's all an epileptic nightmare. but if she had to choose one, it would be labor day, because people do nothing but cook and chill. she has no family to chill with, but at least there are no fireworks. and she has cookie, her dog!

what is their style? pre-bite, she’s gotten used to dressing comfortably. leggings and t-shirts, nothing special, if only because the second she has a seizure, it either gets soiled or taken off anywhere. she doesn’t do makeup, because no one’s ever been around to teach her, and she’d rather not trust youtube to tell her important things like that. her hair is almost always up in a bun or ponytail, though she’ll let it down when she’s having an especially good day. post-bite, she likes to show off what she couldn’t before. she doesn’t have to worry about seizures anymore, so she wears tight clothing and mini skirts, leather jackets and high heels. she also takes this burst of self-love and learns how to do her makeup. she basically becomes elliot.

hayden:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she wouldn’t know, to be honest. she’s been in captivity for, like, eight years. but now that she’s a free woman, she is... experimenting with caramel lattes. it takes some adjusting.

what is their scent like? she smells like antiseptic and sewage. it’s... very gross. so she’s taken to showering a lot and stealing perfume and shower gel from stores on their road trip. her favorite shampoo smells like vanilla, and she keeps bubblegum on her, so her breath is always cotton candy minty fresh.

what is their favorite season? when she was a kid, she liked fall, because she liked watching the leaves fall. she hasn’t really seen the seasons pass in quite a few years, so she’s inclined to stick with her original bias.

what is their favorite holiday? she has to say christmas.

what is their style? she doesn’t have much of a style yet. she knows that she likes beanies; her favorite one is red and it was a gift from tara when they first escaped. she prefers baggy clothes that are easy to move in, maybe combat boots, if she can get her hands on some. eventually, she’ll sharpen that style, come to find that she looks best in maroon and that she likes ripped jeans. she’s learning how to do this cat-eye makeup thing that she saw on a woman in a diner once and she’d determined to get good at it. she doesn’t care much for jewelry, but if she finds some pretty wristbands, she’ll slip them on and make them work for her.

jacqui:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? the circus only ever gave her crappy coffee that tasted more like sludge than actual coffee. she never liked it, so by the time she got out of there, she had no interest in rediscovering coffee and seeing if it actually tasted any good. she’s much more comfortable drinking hot chocolate.

what is their scent like? she used to smell like cotton candy all of the time. she never understood why her captors wanted her to smell like that. but they would put it in her clothes, her shampoo, her food. everything smelled like cotton candy so that she would smell like cotton candy. while she doesn’t hate the scent now, it does make her nauseous. instead, she prefers the scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate, so she chooses shampoos and perfumes that match those scents.

what is their favorite season? winter! the circus went to michigan for christmas once. she’d never seen so much snow.

what is their favorite holiday? thanksgiving. she doesn’t care for the history of it, but she used to love gathering with her family and eating together. sharing what she was grateful for was always easy, because she was just grateful for them.

what is their style? she’s used to loose but slightly revealing clothing, as a result of the circus. even though she’s trying to form her identity outside of her captivity, she still tries to stick with what she’s comfortable in. so she wears pleated skirts and blouses with blazers, typically sticking to darker colors. she also takes care to wear shorts or leggings underneath, because she’s prone to do acrobatics in the middle of the room, all handstands and backbends and front walkovers. it helps her think. she finds jewelry very pretty and she wears it often! she likes necklaces most of all, but she also likes bracelets and earrings!!

jude:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? because of her stupid stomach, jude cannot handle coffee or any caffeine, for that matter! ...it does not stop her from drinking it!! while she prefers her coffee to be abysmally sweet, she just steals whatever her dad is drinking. she never orders her own, because she know she won’t drink all of it. she will always, always get snacks when she goes to a coffee shop. diabetes whomst.

what is their scent like? she smells like paper, fresh ink and freshly baked cupcakes! she also smells a little a waiting room from all the time she spends in the hospital. that has to be, like, a personality trait or something.

what is their favorite season? she likes all seasons. she just... likes everything. too much. if she had to choose, she’d probably a summer babey because that’s when her birthday is, but she doesn’t discriminate.

what is their favorite holiday? she has been informed that she has to say lydia’s birthday.

what is their style? she’s kind of all over the place, but in an organized way. for a rich girl, she dresses like a normal person on the street. she likes tattered sweaters and rolled up jeans and dirty sneakers. she rarely wears skirts or dresses, because she goes to a lot of protests and gets into her fair share of fights. and she doesn’t go for any particular color scheme, so much as she wears whatever she’s feeling that day. her hair is usually pulled back in a ponytail, but she’ll do something different on occasion. she really isn’t good with makeup, but when lydia, andie, maggie or beth feels like putting a look on her, jude will happily accept. the only jewelry she really wears is her medical bracelet, but she accidentally forgets it all the time. oops.

kira:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she’s a tea person, sorry. but if she does get coffee, she’s fine with something semi-sweet, but not as overwhelming as what some people (read: aoife) take. she might get something to nibble on, but altogether, her appetite isn’t that big.

what is their scent like? she smells like fabric softener. her parents tease her about it all the time, and they all know it’s because she only wears clothes that are fresh out of the dryer and carefully ironed. and it’s a nice smell, so it’s not like it’s a bad thing, but no matter how hard she tries, she just smells like fabric softener. and peaches, sometimes. it’s a weird combination, she’s suing whoever chose this for her.

what is their favorite season? winter: the blessed time of the year where she can wear big sweaters, leggings and no personality.

what is their favorite holiday? children’s day! it was her favorite holiday growing up and even though she’s a little too old to be considered a child now, she still loves it.

what is their style? she tends to favor the whole skirts and leggings thing, all year round. she likes shirts with personality, be it flowery or graphic. sometimes, she’ll don a jacket or a cardigan, but her looks usually go well without them. she likes earthy colors, with a splash of white or black, when she’s in the mood. she doesn’t really wear makeup? she just never learned and she was too anxious about messing it up to teach herself. she does different things with her hair; she’ll braid it or let it down, or make a crown of it. she does wear jewelry, but she usually has it hidden beneath her clothes, because she’s a nervous baby.

liam:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? black coffee and a breakfast sandwich. he has a lacrosse career to stress about, okay, he doesn’t have the patience for anything other than that.

what is their scent like? regrettably, this teenage boy smells like a teenage boy. all of the time playing lacrosse has left its scent on him and no amount of showering really takes away the scent of wind and turf. he wears cologne and aftershave to take the edge off, but it’s still tough to miss the scent.

what is their favorite season? fall. it’s lax season, what could possibly be better than that?

what is their favorite holiday? hanukkah. it’s probably the only holiday that doesn’t annoy the hell out of him.

what is their style? he dresses like the problem child he is. he uses his wealth for a lot of things, but clothes are not on the list. he prefers lighter colors, thin jackets, skinny jeans, the works. he puts a bit more effort into his looks than some, but he’s not the most fashionable by any means. sometimes, he lets brett put some eyeliner on him, but that’s about as far as his makeup goes.

lydia:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? french hazelnut with two shots of espresso, half a shot of caramel, 1 tablespoon of sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon. as for food, she’ll take a bowl of fruit for now with a salad and parfait for later. this has been her order since she was twelve and it will probably never change.

what is their scent like? she smells heavily of strawberries, vanilla and just a little bit like fresh coffee beans. it’s a carefully curated scent, one that she happens to love on herself, thank you very much.

what is their favorite season? fall, duh. that’s when she was born. it’s also lacrosse season, so she gets to see jackson smite his opponents like the hand of god. that’s not to say that he doesn’t best everyone in everything, but he shines in a completely different way when it comes to lacrosse.

what is their favorite holiday? her birthday? how is this even a question?

what is their style? she is among the pickiest dressers in beacon hills. she’s a big fan of lace and flowers, but she doesn’t go overboard with it. she’ll venture past the usual jeans or skirt. actually, she rarely wears jeans; she much prefers skirts or rompers. everything is extremely classy and sophisticated, but every now and again, she’ll show a bit of cleavage. that’s very rare; not because she thinks cleavage isn’t classy, but it’s just not her vibe most of the time. shoes are a very big deal, too; she doesn’t even glance at anything less than six inches. wedges are a favorite for school, but she doesn’t shy away from red bottoms or stilettos. her hair is almost always just curled, but sometimes, she’ll put it in a braided crown or something. she doesn’t shy away from jewelry at all. she loves rings, bracelets, necklaces. and her makeup is always flawless, of course. who do you think she is?

maggie:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? the very antithesis to all that her baby sister is, maggie is fine with a simple dark roast with a little bit of cream and no sugar, than you.

what is their scent like? where lydia runs from the scent of the farm, maggie embraces it. while she’s very careful not to smell like horse dung, she’s fine with smelling a little like grass and the chamomile that her mom makes in the morning. her shampoo is mostly scentless, which just allows her to lean into the chamomile and grass scent. it’s an odd combination and lydia is begging her to choose something more, but maggie doesn’t have a problem with how she smells.

what is their favorite season? summer. no particular reason, she just likes it.

what is their favorite holiday? contrary to what lydia insists, it is not her birthday. rather, maggie loves easter. or, as she’s always called it, resurrection sunday.

what is their style? once again contrasting her baby sister, maggie’s style is much more casual. she’s up for a cardigan and blouse every once in a while, but for the most part, she’ll stick with her overalls, jeans and farm boots. she likes earthy or dark colors, because it sucks to get mud on a white shirt. she doesn’t really wear jewelry, aside from some old handmade bracelets and a necklace her daddy got her when she was little. she doesn’t really do makeup aside from sundays, because there’s just no need for it every day, despite what lydia seems to believe.

michonne:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? michonne is fine with tea, but if she’s getting coffee, then she’ll take a macchiato or something. honestly, she’s a law student, she takes energy wherever she can get it, she’s not complaining. when noah shoves cafe food at her, it’s usually a sandwich and... way too many treats.

what is their scent like? she smells a lot like lavender, surprisingly. it’s her favorite scent and she does her best to adorn herself with it.

what is their favorite season? she likes winter, cali-style. when it’s still raining and the skies are dark all throughout the morning and everything is a little chilly, but not so much that she feels the need to close herself in her house and never come out.

what is their favorite holiday? mardi gras. she spent a few summers in new orleans with her ex-boyfriend and the holiday has a special place in her heart.

what is their style? she’s a big business casual kinda person. jeans and boots with a white blouse and a pretty little blazer. she never wears skirts or dresses, but she’s resigned to the fact that she’ll have to, once she becomes an actual lawyer. she’s learning to cope. she tends towards dark colors, but she’ll throw on a white shirt or something. her shoes tend to be ankle boots or flats, because anything else just annoys her. (noah gave her a pair of crocs for christmas two years ago and she’ll never admit it, but those are her favorite lounging shoes. they’re so ugly but so comfortable.) she either curls her hair or braids it, but she tends to dye it, depending on her mood. as for jewelry and makeup, noah calls every day to tell her what to do and she just goes with it.

noah:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? disorganized bisexual, he orders something different every day. it’s a recipe for disaster, but he swears it’s fun. live, laugh, love.

what is their scent like? he smells like potpourri and this is not an accident.

what is their favorite season? summer! everything is so lively and fun in the summer, the other seasons want what she has.

what is their favorite holiday? fourth of july! like, fuck that independence thing, we all know that’s a lie. but there are pool parties, fireworks, barbecues. it’s literally the perfect holiday, aside from the intentional blind eye to prevailing systemic racism and oppression... live, laugh, love.

what is their style? he puts just as much thought into his looks as lydia does. his look is caught between very classy and very casual. he prefers polos or preppy sweaters, with form-fitting khakis and light jeans. he does prefer dark tops, but he knows that he looks good in basically anything. he spends a lot of time in barber shops to maintain the perfect hair and he spends at least thirty minutes brushing it per day. he loves jewelry. some days, he wears earrings. some days, he wears rings. but he always wears a watch that his dad gave him last year. when it comes to shoes, he usually wears combat boots or the right sneakers, but if the occasion calls for loafers, then he’ll wear the damn loafers.

sasha:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she can never get over the bitterness of coffee. she respects people who love it, but it’s just not for her. she’ll take hot chocolate any day, thanks! and if she remembers to grab some food, then she’ll just get something random but filling. she doesn’t put much thought into it.

what is their scent like? she smells like a rain shower, in the best way. it’s a very comforting and grounding scent, thought it’s hard to understand how she even manages it.

what is their favorite season? winter! not because of her birthday, but because the christmas lights are all so pretty and she just loves the euphoric vibe of the yuletide.

what is their favorite holiday? christmas, for the reasons listed above!

what is their style? she keeps it very simple. a plain shirt and jeans or a skirt, usually leaning towards earthy tones, including rose pink or black. she doesn’t put a whole lot of work into her appearance every day, though she certainly understands people who do. she wears earrings and a chokers every day and often wears bracelets. she does her makeup every day, but it’s a very subtle thing, because she doesn’t particularly want to draw attention towards herself. when it comes to shoes, she prefers boot, flats and sneakers. her hair is usually curled, but she’ll wear braids when she has the patience for it.

scott:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? if he has coffee, he likes it just a little sweet, but not an overpowering amount. he just needs to take the edge off and he’s fine.

what is their scent like? he smells like a lacrosse field, but he also smells like dogs. it’s not the greatest combination of scents, but it’s not like anyone pays that much attention to him. he gets to work with animals all the time and that’s cool enough that he doesn’t care how it makes him smell.

what is their favorite season? summer, because fuck school.

what is their favorite holiday? halloween, because he is a child and he still goes trick or treating every year. his mom keeps saying he’s too old, but he pretends that he doesn’t hear her.

what is their style? he’s very casual and usually just wears whatever his mom buys him. flannel button-ups, dark jeans, old sneakers, the works. he tends towards darker colors, but he’s not shoving his whites and pinks to the back of his closet by any means. he doesn’t really wear jewelry or makeup, though he would try it if he had any.

tara:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? she likes her coffee almost as sweet as aoife’s, but not that much. she doesn’t drink coffee all that much, but if she is going to drink it, then it needs to be sweet as all get out.

what is their scent like? she smells like a lake and a graveyard, all at once. hayden pointed it out a couple of weeks ago, back when they first escaped, over mcdonald’s burgers that they’d gotten by questionable means. tara... doesn’t really know what that means. the scent thing, that is.

what is their favorite season? fall; it’s cooling down, but it’s not overwhelmingly cold, either.

what is their favorite holiday? the new year; every year that she and her brother have survived is one year closer to them making it home.

what is their style? crop tops and leather jackets, babeyyy. she wants to look like a dangerous lesbian and she manages! her hair is naturally curly and she doesn’t really try to fight it into any particular style aside from brushing it into something presentable. she likes dark colors, but she really doesn’t have the room to be picky. she doesn’t really have the opportunity to do makeup or anything, aside from some stolen chapstick. and her shoes are just some beaten-up sneakers she found in a trash can.

trevor:

coffee order/current coffee shop order if they don't drink coffee? he takes iced tea!

what is their scent like? old spice and french fries! it’s a very odd scent that has had michonne raising her brows at him for ages, but he always grins because he likes it! he’s been using this old spice cologne for ages now and that’s not going to change. and french fries don’t even smell bad, so he really has no complaints.

what is their favorite season? fall, because that’s when mason was born. therefore, it’s the superior season and t is not taking any debate or criticism at this time, thank you.

what is their favorite holiday? thanksgiving, because he gets to spend time with his family and tell them how much he’s grateful for them! and he tells his friends, too! also easter!! and christmas!! he just really loves holidays, okay.

what is their style? t is a very fashionable but modest dresser. nothing of his is too tight, but he makes it all look good. sometimes he wears floral print or stripes, but that’s about as adventurous as he gets. he tends towards lighter colors, because dark colors just don’t match his personality. he doesn’t wear makeup or anything, but the one time liam hesitantly showed an interest in that kind of thing, t offered to learn how to do it with him. and even though that was a few years ago, his offer stands!

#╰ * sq. pack.

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katyamber · 4 years

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Now That We’ve Found Love - Chapter 6

The destination was Paris. They would arrive by sunset and Anne couldn’t wait to show her wife around the city. It was far bigger and better than London, far more glamorous. She hoped that Ann would enjoy at least the shops if nothing else. Fashion was very big in Paris, she hoped that Ann could find a nice dress or two.

The journey to Paris was long and tiring for them both, but both were glad to have cleared the air this morning after tensions ran high. Ann sat close to Anne, her leg resting against hers. Sometimes when the coast was clear they would steal a kiss, or a touch. Every now and then Anne would share experiences with her wife from previous Paris trips. Tales of grandeur and chance meetings.

What started out as farmland slowly became more densely populated, soon there were rows of houses and cobbled streets, then there were churches and large buildings. It was when they saw Notre Damme, Ann was in awe of the architecture. It was stunning. She wanted to go inside every building and look at every curve of stone. It amazed her how these structures were built, by the hands of men, it also saddened her to know that many of the lower class in society died to create such beauty. Perhaps their souls lived on in the brickwork, the intricate details of the stained windows.

The silence from her wife let Anne know that she was enjoying herself, which made her feel relief. Anne had been worried for a while that Ann wouldn’t take well to travelling – she wasn’t sure she could give up something she loved so much for anyone. Now, however, she assumed that she didn’t have to give up travelling.

Their hotel was grand, the foyer was filled with ladies wearing large, expensive dresses – each group of women speaking a different language. French women were different to English women, they were naturally beautiful. They carried their selves with such grace and poise and Ann could instantly see what the attraction of them was to her wife.

They had an early dinner of risotto and went to bed early, the sheets were silk, edged with lace. The wood of the bed frame was dark mahogany. The room was relatively bright compared to those at Shibden, walls were painted in light colours and silver and gold guild was dotted around the room reflecting light from the flickering candles.

When they woke in the morning, they spoke about all the things they could do, and, deciding to stay in Paris for at least a week to see everything and recover from the long travel before moving on. Breakfast was a mixture of pastries and fruits, washed down with coffee. Ann had never had coffee before but she liked it, it was bitter but it made her feel awake. Eager to encourage her wife, Anne suggested that she picked the day’s activities.

Buzzed from coffee, Ann decided that they would enjoy a slow stroll around Paris and get a closer look at the buildings and maybe some of the dress shops that Anne had told her about.

The weather in Paris was perfect, it was hot and the sky was free from all clouds. It looked like a painting. As they left the hotel Ann felt so proud and tall, her chest out and shoulders back as she walked alongside her wife. She always felt so confident when she was with Anne, she listened to her and made her feel like an adult.

They explored the streets together, Anne excitedly telling stories about things they stumbled across, joking and laughing together. It wasn’t for a few hours that they stopped off for something to eat. There was a little place that wasn’t busy, Restaurants were almost unheard of in England, but there were at least 5 in Paris. À La Petite Chaise, situated 2 miles from both Notre-Dame and the Louvre construction that Anne had told her all about.

Ann struggled to pick from the menu, she knew some French but she had never encountered these words. With help from Anne, she decided on French onion soup, followed by grilled steak and for dessert a selection of cheeses. It was all very well done, and Anne was surprised that her wife had eaten everything without picking.

After lunch they carried on through Paris and eventually Ann complained that she was too hot to carry on and wanted to go back to the hotel to rest. Reluctantly Anne agreed, she was warm too, wearing black all the time was difficult in the summer.

They returned to the hotel and both freshened up with some cool water, allowing the air to dry their skin. Anne lay on the bed and looked over at her wife who was letting down her hair and washing her face.

“Have you had a nice day?” she asked, her eyes trailing over her wife’s body which was barely visible through her underwear.

Ann patted her face dry with a cloth and nodded “Paris is much more beautiful than I imagined. And it’s so different to England. I loved the food, I never thought of onions in a soup before.” She told her with a laugh.

“Thanks, for bringing me, and convincing me that I should see more of the world.” Ann told her wife quietly. Anne was right, she was always right, Anne could put her on top of the world and she knew she had made no mistake in marrying her.

Anne smiled happily and closed her eyes, taking a deep content breath and putting her hands behind her head. She really couldn’t express enough how happy she was to have such a beautiful, smart, patient woman in her life.

Ann watched her wife and smiled, wondering how she could possibly make her as happy as her. She looked at the windows, nobody could see in they were high up and nobody was overlooking them. She padded quietly to the bed and undid the ribbons of her night gown, revealing her pale chest.

“Anne?” she whispered

“Mmmm?” Anne hummed still with her eyes closed.

Ann leaned down on the bed so that her bosom was revealed even more “Anne…” she whispered again, this time her voice breathy.

“Yes, I said…” She opened her eyes and her words stopped dead in her throat. She looked over her wife, her Ann, her small, perfect breasts peeking out through the gap of the nightgown. A painful hum came from her and she shook her head and looked at Ann with a grin.

Ann blushed red as Anne looked at her and shook her head “Sorry..” she mumbled and made to get up, but was stopped by Anne’s hand on hers.

“Don’t.” Anne told her firmly “Take off your night gown.” She ordered, looking into Ann’s eyes as she spoke.

Ann let out a small sigh and nodded her head, feeling brave again thanks to the support of her wife. She took a step back from the bed and without loosing eye contact with Anne she lifter her night gown off and over her head.

She bent her legs a little and put her arms over herself, slightly embarrassed to be naked and under her wife’s watchful eye.

Getting to her knees, Anne quickly knelt on the edge of the bed in front of Ann and reached for her hands, pulling her closer and looking over her face “You are so beautiful.” She assured her, her hand running up Ann’s arm and then into her hair. She cupped her cheek and bought her in for a kiss, kissing the side of her mouth and then smiling again “I want you.” She told Ann.

“I want you to sit on me.” She told her, tugging her on the bed “I want to watch your face.” She explained.

Ann blushed a deep red and nodded her head, but words were not coming that easily to her so in response she put a hand to Anne’s chest and pushed her backwards, falling on top of her with a huff.

The fabric of Anne’s nightgown brushed over her clit and it made her moan, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Anne inside her. Ann reached down and tugged at Anne’s nightgown and they wrestled it off from under her and onto the floor.

Both naked, hot skin on skin. They were both sweating already from the hot afternoon heat.

Anne pulled her down by the back of her neck and kissed her hard, sucking on her bottom lip. She positioned her fingers at Ann’s opening and stroked slowly, teasing her. The noises that it elicited from her wife were irresistible. She heard her name being moaned quietly into her mouth and smirked a little, unable to resist feeling a little cocky.

Ann pushed back into Anne’s hand to urge her inside, but Anne was taking her time. She pulled back from the kiss and looked at Ann, her hair a mess, her eyes shut, her mouth hung open in painful anticipation.

Lifting her hand up, she carefully slid her wet fingers over Ann’s lips and hummed, then put her finger in her own mouth to suck the juice from it with a moan. “You taste delightful.” She hummed and then reached her hand back down between them.

Before Ann could respond, Anne thrust her middle finger into her and watched her wife’s eyes squeeze tighter shut. She leaned up and kissed Ann’s breasts slowly, then flicked her tongue over the nipple. Anne lay back down and looked up at her wife as they slowly began to grind together. Moving her free hand to Ann’s hip, she guided her slowly, bouncing her a little as she pushed up to her. She could feel the wetness of Ann running down her finger and onto her thigh.

“You’re very good.” She told her with encouragement “Do you like it when I’m inside you?” she asked.

“Yesss…” Ann hissed and pushed harder and further down until she engulfed Anne’s finger fully.

“More…I need more Anne…” she breathed, leaning down and kissing her wife lazily.

“What do you want Ann?” Anne asked with a cocky smile.

“I want more fingers, harder” She explained, her body shaking slightly as she lifted herself up and back down on Anne’s finger.

Anne bit her lip and squeezed her hip, then lifted her slightly as she repositioned her hand, thrusting 2 fingers deep inside her.

“Oh!” Ann moaned, instantly moving faster, grinding closer and faster as she felt Anne filling her.

“Tell me what you want.” Anne encouraged, trying to get Ann to be a little more forward in bed without being drunk.

“I…” She paused, not really knowing how to describe what she wanted “Move your fingers, curl them…” she explained, sitting up on Anne and resting so that Anne’s fingers were buried deep inside her and had nowhere to go “My clit…touch it.” She ordered, reaching for the hand that was on her hip and guiding it down between her wet folds.

She was thick with slick wetness and Anne groaned, her thumb finding her clit and moving in small circles as her fingers grazed Ann from the inside.

“Oh My!” Ann moaned “Anne!” she cried and moved quickly on her wife “I’m close.” She whispered, her hands reaching up to her own breasts and squeezing them as she ground herself on her wife’s skilled hands.

Just as Ann was about to orgasm, she felt Anne push her off, and with a desperate moan, Ann bucked her hips into thin air “Anne…” she whispered “I need you.” She added.

Within seconds Anne was on top of her, she bit her thighs and buried her fingers deep inside her wife again “I want to taste you, come for me.” She ordered her, moving her mouth over Ann’s clit and flicking her tongue lightly over the bud. Her fingers curled and her tongue circled and before she knew it her head was being forced against Ann and her nose was buried in blonde pubic hair as Ann came into her mouth. She became wetter, wetness dribbling down Anne’s chin and over her hand and on the bed. Anne was unable to resist pulling her fingers from Ann and pushing her tongue into her to taste her properly, hot and pulsing.

Anne had the intention of stopping and cuddling, but she was so aroused she couldn’t stop. She reached her wet hand down to herself and touched herself whilst she carried on moving her tongue over Ann who was now moaning again.

Ann still had a hand buried in her wife’s hair, her chest was heaving and her hips pushed up to Anne. Was it possible to have another orgasm? She didn’t know. But it felt like she was going to.

Ann reached her hand down between her legs and copying her wife, started to moving her hand in small circles on her clit as her wife’s tongue stroked her opening.

The vision of Ann stroking herself was enough to push Anne over the edge and she came, calling Ann’s name loudly as she pulled her down to her mouth to muffle her cries.

The sound that Anne made pushed Ann over the edge and at the same time she had her second orgasm, her hips bucking against Anne’s mouth and her hand moving faster on herself.

There was silence in the room aside from the panting, both afraid to move and ruin the incredible feeling of ecstasy.

“I love you Ann.” Anne whispered eventually, resting her head on Ann’s thigh and stroking her skin which glistened with sweat in the sunlight.

#gentleman jack #suranne jones #sophie rundle #anne lister #ann walker #lesbian #fanfic

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