#but I am excited to see the normal and formalwear too

[pretend-pretend-vampire]

ok new game: reblog with what your vtm oc was wearing when they died.

[itshalza]

At My Side

Eternalduo (Eret and Foolish) origin story fanfic? Yes please!

- They/Them pronouns for Eret

- Loosely based on "Peace and Love on the Planet Earth" from Steven Universe

!! Content Warning: Nothing.

Summary: Foolish wakes up in the mortal realm, completely unaware of how it works. When he stumbles into Eret's kingdom, friendship ensues.

Foolish woke up under a canopy of trees. Dim beams of sunlight shone through the leaves of the tall oak trees. Birds chirped lightly in the trees. He blinked slightly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then a figure covered his vision.

The totem shouted, scurrying backward until his back hit the trunk of a tree. Birds squeaked and flew from the tree. Foolish began speaking quickly. “Get away from me. Don’t come any closer. What the-”

He was cut off by a long:

Baaaaa

Foolish stopped speaking, the fear slowly leaving his eyes. “What are you?” He asked.

The creature let out another noise before beginning to munch on the grass.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?”

Baaaaa

“How did I get here? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

It looked up at him, not a thought behind its eyes.

Foolish raised an eyebrow before slowly standing up. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” He said spitefully. He hesitated and took cautious steps away from the beast. It didn’t react, so Foolish moved faster to get away.

It didn’t take him long to realize that this was not the realm he was used to. The Godly Realm was much, much brighter than this. And there wasn’t much grass, and this certainly wasn’t the temple he was used to.

“Oh Gods,” He muttered in annoyance. He was no longer in the Godly Realm after all… this is the mortal realm. He rubbed his furrowed brow, closing his eyes and sighing. He didn’t remember how he was put down here, but he knew it was probably a punishment for something.

He moved out of the forest and moved towards the only signs of civilization he could find. A large village was in the distance. Houses made of stone and wood encircled a large, grand structure, seemingly a castle, in the center of the village.

Foolish wandered around the streets, eyes on him. He was definitely out of place here. His golden skin stuck out like a sore thumb. These creatures were definitely different from him, and they knew that too.

He eventually made his way to a marketplace. The bustling environment was just busy enough to allow him to blend in. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking taking in the scenery around him. However, he quickly began paying attention again when he was collided with, falling backward onto the cobblestone street below.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Their deep voice rang out, adjusting their cloak. They offered Foolish a hand. He pulled himself up, dusting off his attire.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He said lightly. Foolish looked up, emerald eyes meeting… sunglasses. It was rather peculiar; through the sunglasses appeared to be a light, but it must have been a trick of the mind.

The stranger took in Foolish’s appearance before smirking slightly. “You’re not from around here, are you?” They said, almost knowingly.

Foolish hesitated for a moment. Why should he tell them anything? The two just met less than a minute ago. But he needed to figure out what was happening and why he found himself in the mortal realm. He laughed lightly. “Not exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck lightly.

The stranger nodded slightly. “I think I understand.” They said. They looked around the crowd before adjusting the sunglasses. “Well, do you want to come with me? I might be able to help you figure out some things.” They suggested.

He opened his mouth, intending to refuse the offer. He had just met the mortal, how was he supposed to trust them? For all he knew this might just be a ruse to steal from him. Not that Foolish had any belongings to get stolen.

The totem looked around before sighing in defeat. He didn’t have many other options other than going with them. “Sure, that would be helpful.” he conceded.

The stranger offered the god their hand. He took it apprehensively as they began to weave through the crowd of townspeople. They moved toward the center of the village, toward the grand stone castle. Rainbow banners adorned the large, sturdy cobblestone walls surrounding the castle. There was a set of large wooden doors set in a stone archway. The place seemed fit for a king, something the cloaked stranger definitely wasn’t. But that didn’t stop them from their trajectory to the doors.

Foolish trailed behind, slowly getting more confused by their actions. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” He questioned.

They let out a low chuckle. Shaking their head, the stranger replied. “I’m fairly certain.” The stranger looked back at him with a light smirk, mumbling something, but the words were lost among the noise of the crowd around them.

The totem followed hesitantly. They did not seem to stop their approach to the castle doors. Foolish waited for a moment or two for them to change their path, and of course, they didn’t waver. “See, the only reason I doubt that is because you seem to be heading right for the castle doors and-” he started before trailing off.

The two stopped at the large wooden doors. Foolish seemed dumbfounded as the stranger lowered the hood of their cloak. The guards gave a curt bow to them before opening the doors.

The King took a few steps into the castle grounds before turning back to the god. A smirk adorned their features. “So are you gonna come in or what?” They asked in a teasing manner.

Foolish cleared his throat, clamoring to regain his composure. “Yeah, of course.” He said quickly, moving to follow the seemingly unbothered king. He couldn’t believe that happened. He just completely embarrassed himself in front of the ruler of the town he found himself in. Surely they would find that disrespectful. “Your Highness, I am so sorry, I-” He started, trailing off when he heard them chuckle.

“There’s no need for the formalities.” They said with a wave of the hand. Foolish blinked a few times, trying to wrap his brain around this situation. “Especially because I believe that your title may supersede mine.” They said, giving a knowing look.

Foolish let out a sigh of relief. So they were aware of his godhood. That was relieving to know, but also terrifying. Were they planning something? What were they going to do with him? They didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, but who knows?

He didn’t get a chance to say anything in response, as a servant approached them with their crown. The ruler ran a hand through their curled locks. They rested the crown on their head while listening to the servant’s word. The crown sat gracefully on their dark hair; it looked like it truly belonged on the silhouette of their regal figure.

“I’m going to take my guest to my chambers. In the meantime, can you prepare a room for him?” They said to the girl. She gave a nod before giving a bow of respect before heading off down a hallway.

They took a deep breath before turning back to Foolish. “Sorry about that. I know your time is valuable.” They said before continuing their way through the halls of the castle. Foolish looked around, getting caught up in the architecture and art along the walls. The place looked perfect. There wasn’t a single thing out of place or a thing the god would have changed if he was the one who built the palace.

The ruler moved toward a door, opening it slowly. “We can talk more here. I don’t want any listening ears to hear. Rumors spread like wildfire.” They said. They held the door open for Foolish to enter.

He entered the room, looking around. The quarters were definitely grand compared to a normal bedroom, but Foolish would consider them humble compared to what he expected from a king’s chamber. Light seeped in from the sheer curtains. The king led him to a sofa toward the corner of the bedroom, taking the cloak off and draping it across the bed, revealing formalwear. They must have worn the cloak as a disguise to go into the marketplace.

“Your Highness, I-”

The king chuckled, shaking their head. “I told you not to call me that, but I never introduced myself, how stupid was that.” They said lightly. They sat on the chair across from Foolish. “Please, call me Eret.”

Foolish was suddenly aware of the fact that he had never introduced himself either. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Eret. My name is Foolish.” He said with a grin.

“So what’s the occasion that our little kingdom is being visited by a god like yourself?” They asked softly. They adjusted their position in the chair before chuckling. “If I would have known you were visiting, I would have cleaned up a bit.” They said jokingly.

“Cleaned up a bit? This place looks pristine.” Foolish mused. He looked around the room with an excited smile. “Also, I love the architecture, and did you see the chandelier in the entrance hall, it’s amazing.”

The king chuckled. “I have seen the chandelier.” They said lightly.

Eret seemed like a weight lifted off their shoulders. Their posture was no longer as straight as a board, and their shoulders were considerably less tense. It had been so long since they were able to be this informal with someone. Everywhere else they were the King, but in this room with Foolish, they were Eret once again. In fact, it had been so long since they heard someone use their first name.

“But I highly doubt you came here just to compliment our castle, though I do appreciate it.” They said. They absentmindedly fidgeted with a button on their shirt, listening intently.

Foolish chuckled nervously. “That’s the thing.” He said. He took a deep breath, looking around the room. “I don’t remember what happened. I remember being in the realm of the gods, and then I remember waking up in the woods.” He was being straightforward because that’s all he knew. There wasn’t much else to say. “There was a creature who looked like a cloud and ate grass and he was not very helpful in my search for answers.” He began recounting the events of his arrival.

Eret laughed genuinely, a sound they hadn’t heard in a long time. They clearly overestimated how much understanding Foolish would have of the mortal realm. “It sounds like you ran into a sheep.” They said with a grin.

“Well, this sheep was not very helpful.” He said spitefully. He sighed in annoyance, to Eret’s amusement. He continued, losing his anger toward the animal. “I left him in the woods and I started walking toward your city. It was the only thing I saw.” He said.

Eret nodded. “I’m just wondering why you got sent here of all places.” They said before their face paled slightly. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that our small kingdom is hardly worthy of a visit from a god.” They rambled nervously.

“Eret calm down, dude. I’m not gonna smite you or anything.” Foolish joked, laughing. Eret laughed, nervousness still filling his voice.

Once the moment passed, Eret looked up at him, bright eyes peering at him through their sunglasses. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you the god of?” They asked. The kingdom wasn’t exactly known for being religious or knowing much about the pantheon of gods. They were free to practice any religion, and there wasn’t much of an emphasis on it anyway.

Foolish thought of a way to phrase it. “The easiest way I can explain it is ‘Undying’. I help things last. Permanence and equilibrium. Saying ‘the god of life’ doesn’t do it justice, because life implies death, implies an end. That’s just not what I do.” He said, being careful with his words. He didn’t want to be misinterpreted. He didn’t want Eret to assume he was something he’s not.

Eret listened, taking in everything he said. They nodded. “Well, we are happy to have your presence.” They said, giving a slight bow of the head.

“No, you don’t have to do that stuff. The bowing and formalities. I was never one for being worshipped. Just consider me a friend.” He said, a smile forming across his face.

They smiled slightly in response. “Of course.” They said. They leaned back in the chair, brushing a few loose curls from their eyes. “Although we will have to introduce you to the people. The whole marketplace saw you. I wouldn’t want any rumors to start to spread about your intentions. The last thing we need is an angry mob.” They said, furrowing their brow slightly as they thought.

“Oh well, that’s no problem. I can just go out and talk to them, I’ve always been a people person. I-” Foolish started, a grin on his face before Eret stopped him.

“No, no, no that won’t do.” They said, shaking their head. “I know you don’t like the formalities but I feel like your arrival warrants a bit more than a trip to the market.”

“So you’re gonna throw me a party?” He asked, growing excited.

“You could say that. A little bit more formal than that. I can have the tailor make you a formal outfit and I can have a banquet planned for the end of the week if you wish.” They said.

“What’s a banquet?”

Eret sighed, a soft smile appearing across their face. “A fancy word for a party.”

Foolish grinned. “I’m in.”

The next few days were filled with making preparations for the introductory banquet and getting used to the mortal realm. Foolish didn’t seem to have any of the powers he displayed in the realm of the gods, but he was hoping they would come back in time. What’s the point of a party if he couldn’t do his best party trick: summoning lightning?

He was still getting used to the kingdom. It was cold compared to the weather he was used to in his desert domain in the godly realm, but he was growing accustomed to it. He was also exploring the different options of food the castle could provide. He was a god, therefore he didn’t have to eat mortal food, but that didn’t mean it didn’t taste good.

Eret was helping Foolish adjust to his new situation. When they weren’t in meetings or busy preparing for the banquet, they would be introducing Foolish to concepts of the mortal realm. It didn’t always go well. They had to drag the disgruntled god from the royal stables when he began to give a sheep a piece of his mind, assuming it was the same unhelpful sheep he met on his first day.

But most of the time it went well. Seeing Foolish have a lack of understanding of basic concepts was quite funny, but Eret displayed nothing but overwhelming patience.

Eret was working hard to make the banquet a success. They didn’t just consider Foolish a royal asset like they believed he would be at their first meeting. They were growing to consider him a friend. And if the gods allowed it, they were going to throw their new friend the best banquet he could ever want.

Indeed, it was the best banquet he could ever want, because Foolish had no idea what to expect, and he had nothing to base his expectations on. When he walked into the ballroom, he was amazed. It was his first time in the room, and he was amazed by the architecture of the room. When he spent time building his own grand structures in his realm, he always struggled with the interior the most, so seeing such a magnificent design inspired awe.

Eret was busy getting any last-minute preparations in order when they noticed Foolish walk into the room. They finished up their conversation before heading in his direction.

“I hate to break it to you, Foolish, but you have your bow tie on upside down.”

Foolish broke his attention from the light fixture to his outfit. The tailor did a wonderful job on the suit, Foolish just had trouble putting the ensemble on correctly.

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

Eret laughed. “I suppose not.” They said. “It gives character.”

Foolish chuckled before giving a confused look. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’d say so.”

“Well, I’d say thanks.”

Eret raised an eyebrow at the weird wording of his reply before brushing it off. “Anyway the guests are expected to come any minute now. I’m probably just going to say a few words of an introduction and explanation, and you can say something if you want. No pressure or anything. Then it’ll just be kind of a mingling kind of situation.” They explained.

Foolish nodded slightly. “Rodger dodger.” He acknowledged.

It didn’t take long for the guests to start filing into the ballroom, chatting in hushed excitement over the expected announcement. They had all heard about the stranger with golden skin who wandered the marketplace, and no matter what kind of rumor they heard, they were excited to finally figure out the truth.

The king eventually stood up from their seat at the head table, smoothing out their semi-formal gown instinctively. They tapped their silverware against the champagne glass, the soft clinks enough to mostly quiet the crowd of guests.

“So by now, I’m assuming you’ve noticed the elephant in the room? Or should I say god in the room?”

Half the crowd responded with laughter, while the other gave gasps of surprise.

“Yes. Our small kingdom is being visited by a god for reasons unknown to myself, or himself for that matter. Foolish, the god of the undying, finds himself in the mortal realm for reasons he cannot remember, but I think it’s only right that we welcome him with open arms.”

The room started chattering, but Eret was quick to calm their concerns.

“I’m inviting him in as a friend, nothing like what you’re thinking, I can assure you of that. Over the past few days, I have been shown nothing but kindness from Foolish and I’d expect nothing less from him to you all.”

Foolish, seated at Eret’s right side, stood up. “Yeah, I’m not exactly into the whole ‘worshipping thing.’ I was thrown here by chance and I’m just here to help out... I think. I mean, I really don’t know what I was put down here for, but I’m gonna help regardless. I didn’t expect anything coming in here, but I’ve received a great friendship from your king and I’m hoping I can make even more friends and prove I’m here to help.” He said sincerely. He spoke informally at the start but quickly remembered the situation he was in. He began acting more proper, but it was clearly unnatural.

The room chuckled at his words.

Eret smiled, knowing that the words of kindness were probably the only genuine ones they had received in a long time. “I couldn’t have phrased it better myself.” They took a deep breath, gesturing to Foolish that he could return to his seat if he wanted. “So I arranged this banquet as a meet and greet situation. That way you all could get to know him better throughout the night. So enjoy yourselves.” They said before sitting back in their seat as well.

The meal went well, and the mingling was going even better. Foolish was a natural entertainer, and the people of the kingdom were loving him. Any fears in their minds dissipated, surely he had no bad intentions.

As the night began to a close, Foolish began to look for Eret. His main objective was to thank them, but he had a couple questions in mind as well. He eventually found them on the balcony. Their silhouette outlines by the moonlight as they leaned against the banister, gazing at the stars.

“Did I scare you off with my extremely charming personality?” Foolish mused with a toothy grin.

Eret chuckled lightly. “More like with your extremely inflated ego.” They retorted, but the smile on their face showed there was no seriousness behind his words.

Foolish laughed too, joining them along the banister.

They looked back out to the horizon. “It’s nothing you did; the parties have always gotten a little too overwhelming for me. Sometimes it’s just nice to take a break and get some fresh air.”

Foolish paused for a moment. “Yeah, I can’t relate.” He said bluntly. “Anyway, I have a couple of questions before you mortals make no sense to me.”

The royal laughed. “Go on.”

“What’s that noise I keep hearing?”

Eret looked back at him. “What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow slightly, assuming that this was a genuine problem.

Foolish, too, seemed confused. “You don’t hear it? It’s like-” he started before hesitantly humming the tune of the melody of the string quartet playing on the stage in the ballroom. “It’s fainter now, but I think it’s coming from those guys with the wooden weapons.”

Eret looked at Foolish, trying to read if he was joking. “You have to be kidding me.” They said lightheartedly.

Foolish only shook his head, his look only becoming more confused.

Eret covered their mouth, laughing the hardest they have in a long time. “Foolish that’s music. They’re playing the music on their instruments. Those aren’t weapons.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s music. It’s a form of art.”

“What’s the point?”

Eret slowly stopped laughing, realizing this would be harder to explain than he thought. He never really thought about it.

“It’s harmony and melody, two forces that are tugging at each other but ultimately work together to form the beauty you’re hearing..”

“But once it’s over, it’s gone. It’s forgotten.”

“But the emotions and memories it leaves behind aren’t.”

Foolish opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He contemplated the other’s words for a moment. He was used to permanence, to constancy. Everything here in this realm was temporary, but it sure was beautiful.

In the moment, he wondered if his and Eret’s friendship would remain a constant. He hoped it would be.

He had no idea how quickly he would be proven wrong.

The silence was nice. It was comfortable. But it too wasn’t permanent.

“Thank you. For the banquet, and for everything before that too. If you hadn’t taken me in I’d probably still be harassing that sheep. It means a lot.” Foolish said. His eyes didn’t leave the horizon.

Eret slowly smiled. “I should be thanking you actually.” They said. They brushed a few curls from their eyes. “Our friendship has helped me more than you could ever know.”

They stared out to the horizon, both enjoying the quiet moment and wondering what would come next for them. The refrain of the quartet humming in their ears as they took in the fresh air.

Eret was the first one to break the silence. “I’ll help you get back to your realm, if that’s what you wish. But until you find your way, you’ll always have a place at my side.”

Foolish couldn’t help but smile, emerald eyes looking over at them. “And you have a place at mine.”

As the music faded away and the crowd dispersed, the pair’s friendship was set in stone.

This nice, tender moment would live in their minds forever.

Well… one of their minds at least

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for giving me all the stubbly men

In the Offing

Chapter 17 — Hat Trick

Summary: In which our heroine believes in magic

Chapter 17 on AO3

“When you move

I can recall something that’s gone from me

When you move

Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”

-Movement, Hozier

It had been a rainy couple of days since her trip out to the cabin with Graham. They had originally planned to meet up again and scan the area to see if they could find the Blanchard remains but the weather had prevented any chance of that. Instead, they had traded texts that included her thanking him for going on record with the paper to say she was no longer a suspect in the shooting. She had noticed a definite warming toward her by the citizens after his comments were splashed across the front page.

Of course it being Storybrooke, rumors had already begun to fly about who would take her place on the most wanted list. She avoided all requests for interviews and tried to focus on the task of finding the responsible party, encouraged every day by the positive news she received from August’s medical team.

Graham wasn’t the only one she had been texting with. As the date of the wedding drew closer, she started receiving messages from Elsa and her sister Anna, who happened to be a ball of chaotic energy that would put a toddler to shame. They were constantly inviting her over to help with this or that stage of the planning but she thought maybe it was really to make sure she didn’t disappear before the ceremony.

It seemed like the only person she hadn’t talked with was the one person to whom she actually had something to say. However, fulfilling his duties as best man had forced Killian into a last minute trip to Boston with Liam to pick up tuxedos and flowers arrangements. She had stopped by the cottage a couple of times to try to catch him, feeling that what she had to say would be better in person than by phone, but she never managed to connect.

So it was that Saturday evening under a clear twilight sky, she pulled up to the cottage. Nervously she ran her hands down her pale pink dress to smooth it as she tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t spoken with Killian since she hung up on him several days ago. The front yard, which stretched down in a gentle rolling hill to a bluff that provided a beautiful ocean view, was transformed. There were a couple of large, white tents set up to accommodate the ceremony and the reception. Due to the heavy rain, someone had the forethought to have planking laid down in a walkway to the tents, which had also been raised on platforms and contained a beautiful hardwood floor to provide some protection from the wet ground.

As Liam had predicted, it appeared as though the entire town did show up. Waving at several people who caught her eye, she started to make her way over to Mary Margaret and David. Taking in the way their gazes never wavered from each other, she guessed that their wedding day wouldn’t be too far behind. Before she could reach them, Anna came flying over to her nearly vibrating with excitement. “Where are you going? I saved you a seat in the front row next to Kristoff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by sitting in a row normally reserved for family. Plus, if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she could take being in close proximity to Killian while he was sporting a tux. The man oozed sexual magnetism in jeans so one could only imagine the allure of him in formalwear. She didn’t need a repeat of the kitchen debacle from a couple of weeks ago while the whole town was watching.

“Emma,” Anna whined with a pouty expression. “Do you see how empty the family section is? It’s embarrassing. Not to mention that Kristoff might fall asleep if you aren’t there to nudge him from time to time.”

“Fine.” She gave in easily when she sensed eyes drifting their way in curiosity. Trying to take her mind off the fact she felt like an animal in a zoo, she smiled at the other woman and said, “You look great.”

As Emma took her seat, Anna twirled in a circle and squealed, “I do, don’t I? This has always been a good color on me. I’m so glad we talked Elsa out of the all that ice blue. I mean, it’s a summer wedding. We need bold colors and lots of skin.”

“You will hear no arguments from me, babe,” Kristoff joked with a wink. As she was finding to be the case with the young couple, once they were honed in on each other she could do as she pleased because they were oblivious. Trapped by the puppy love playing out in front of her, she used the opportunity to study the lovely white roses and low lighting that showcased the tent to its best advantage. She couldn’t help but wonder how they had pulled off such an elaborate event with only days to plan.

Any thoughts she had about price tags and logistics were immediately frozen when she saw Liam and Killian step onto the stage about twenty feet in front of her. The Brothers Jones looked quite dapper and refined in their black tuxedos. Liam was calm and collected as always except for the faint hint of red across his cheeks, not even having one arm in a sling could diminish the happiness that radiated off him. Killian looked like a fantasy wrapped in a dream and dipped in chocolate.

Unfortunately, as she was feasting on him with her eyes he must have become aware of her idolizing stare. His penetrating blue gaze met hers full on for the first time in almost a week. Her heart beat out a painful thump at the emotion that flooded her but she couldn’t look away. He was perfect, from the top of his rumpled hair to the bottom of his precisely polished dress shoes. And she was an idiot.

“Geez, girl. Am I going to have to get you two a room so you don’t burn down the tent?”Startled out of her staring contest by Anna’s teasing, she looked over to see her companions watching her with matching grins. “Elsa mentioned there was something going on but she didn’t warn me that it was combustible.”

“Cute,” Emma said in tone that warned against further commentary. “Speaking of Elsa, shouldn’t you be helping your sister get ready?”

“Oh crap! I was supposed to be grabbing her a glass of water. See you guys later!”

For the next several minutes, Emma did her best to keep her gaze from wandering back to the stage even as she felt Killian’s eyes burning a hole through her. Kristoff was helpful in that regard because he was as much of a talker as his girlfriend, although in comparison he was still the shrinking violet in their relationship. The hum of conversations increased as the tent filled until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. As everyone stood to see the bride enter, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and smiled shyly when she saw that Killian was staring back at her.

To no one’s surprise, Elsa made a beautiful bride. Her white blonde hair was styled in a complicated braid that looked soft and elegant. Her slender form was hugged by a white lace gown that looked fit for a queen. It was her serene expression that truly made her a beauty though. She had the look of a woman who couldn’t wait to start her future with the man waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Just like that, Emma felt tears forming. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. There were several sniffles and weepy smiles in the tent as the pair shared their vows and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Liam’s deep voice never faltered and when the minister pronounced them man and wife, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Elsa soundly in front of God and everyone. And for rather longer than strictly necessary.

Laughter ringing out at the groom’s enthusiasm, the crowd began clapping as the newly married couple led the way to the reception. They were followed by the best man and maid of honor, whose heads were bent together as if they were plotting to overthrow the government. Knowing the two of them, Emma couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

Kristoff offered her his arm to guide her into the other tent but she waved him on. She needed some time to collect herself so she continued to observe from the fringe of the crowd. The first dance was a slow romantic matter replete with loving glances and sighs. The cutting of the cake was a dignified event regardless of the taunting of some of the more rowdy members of the audience. As the band struck up a new song, couples started making their way to the dance floor. She was pleased to see Mary Margaret and David were one of the first to go, smiling at each other with the kind of fondness that would never fade.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she had put off her conversation long enough. As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a familiar voice ask, “May I have this dance, Emma?”

Shocked out of her anxiousness, she turned to find Graham standing behind her with his hand extended. He looked striking in his suit, she had to admit. Not fantasy dream chocolate level, of course, but not hard on the eyes. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sheriff. Didn’t you used to date the bride?”

Cringing a bit and screwing up his face, he looked at her through one eye. “There’s that adorable directness. It was one date, a rather hopeless affair I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, there are other fish in the sea,” she murmured encouragingly, a little concerned at the longing she saw in his stare when he looked at her. He shuffled her around the edge of the dance floor, his eyes searching hers for something.

“There is one fish that I have an interest in,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I might be a little too late to catch her.”

With regret for the hurt her next words would cause him because somewhere along the way she had come to really like him, she confirmed, “Yes, I think you might be.”

Nodding with understanding, he shifted his glance to the front of the tent where the wedding party was currently enjoying dinner. With a rueful smile, he commented, “I’m guessing by the daggers that Killian is currently shooting my way that I have been bested by another Jones.”

Touching his cheek gently to bring his attention back to her, she teased, “Third time is the charm, my friend. To my knowledge, there aren’t any other brothers to contend with. Go forth with confidence and find yourself a lady worthy of you.”

Graham smiled down at her. The song ended but he held her an extra second, squeezing her waist affectionately before stepping back. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and swept a soft kiss near her wrist while looking at her with eyes full of laughter. “Let’s see if that brings your erstwhile suitor running.”

Shaking her head at him, she grinned at his back as he disappeared into the crowd. She started toward an empty chair a couple of tables away when she felt someone approach from behind. She knew without turning that it was Killian. The air around her electrified when he got near.

“Swan, where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to sit down and enjoy dinner, Dr. Jones. What brings you by?”

“I want to dance with you,” he stated, his gaze roaming over her like a caress. Holding out his hand, he continued, “You have the rest of your life to avoid me, love. Where’s the harm in one dance with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing?”

He really had no idea of the hold he had over her. He was still under the impression she planned to walk away. Yet there he was, reaching out to her as if her touch wouldn’t leave bruises. He may be the bravest man she ever met.

“I think I’m willing to risk it,” she whispered huskily as she eased into his arms. It was like coming home.

—

The night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. Once Killian had her in his arms, he seemed loath to let her go, to the point of glowering at any man who approached. He did allow Liam a dance, and David and Kristoff grudgingly, but he always returned to her side as the final notes of the song played and pulled her into his arms again.

“I thought I agreed to one dance,” she teased, bracing herself one-handed on his shoulder as she tugged off her right shoe and massaged her foot. It was after midnight and the crowd had started to thin now that Liam and Elsa had run through a minefield of bubbles to the limousine that waited to take them to New York City for a mini-honeymoon. “I’m not sure my feet are going to recover.”

“Darling, if you can run down skips in stilettos a couple of dances with your many admirers shouldn’t be a problem,” he pointed out, dragging her out to the dance floor again. Willing to pay any price to continue to be this close to him, she plucked off her other shoe and tossed it gently under a nearby table. He abandoned his normal poise, wrapping his arms around her back and settling her against him in what amounted to little more than a hug. The world faded away as she rested her cheek against his chest.

The slow, romantic song continued to play in the background and he hummed the words as he swayed them gently in time to the music. She felt a tingle start at the base of her spine and work its way through her entire body. She didn’t even bother moving apart to say goodbye to Mary Margaret or Anna when they passed by to let them know they were leaving. When the band started to pack up and the caterers were tearing down tables, she observed quietly against his collar, “I think I ate too much cake.”

“You speak of the impossible,” he murmured into her hair.

“Killian,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you take me home?”

Tightening his grip a bit, he answered, “Of course, Swan, but I let Kristoff and Anna borrow my truck so we’ll have to take your car. Where are your keys?”

“No,” she replied with a smile up at him. “To the cottage.”

Eyes widening in understanding, he asked, “Are you sure? There will be no coming back from this. No more running away, no more secrets. There’ll be no getting rid of me.” He waited patiently, his face inches from hers. She thought she detected the hint of a smile forming.

“I’m ready if you are,” she promised as she went up on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a predatory grin, he deepened the kiss and before she knew what he was about, she was upended over his shoulder with her eyes having a very nice view of his lower back and beyond. “Let’s sail away, love.”

Shrieking over his laughter, she asked, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I can’t have you trudging through the mud and muck in your bare feet, Swan,” he explained with a fond pat on her bottom. She felt him glide through the tent and buried her face in her hands when she heard him say good night to several of the staff as they passed by.

“And you couldn’t carry me like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Too caught up in muttering promises of revenge, she didn’t realize they were at the porch until he gently lowered her to the floor. “There you are, my lady. Safe passage to the front door.”

They were eye level with each other since he was standing on the stair below her. The blue gleam of his gaze was unearthly. His mouth was curved in a playful smile but she could tell he was nervous. She thought he was probably afraid she would run again and realized that he stopped there for a reason, as if he wanted her to commit to this and move inside on her own two feet. Taking his face in her hands, she stared at him and hoped he could see everything she was feeling. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things, really. Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you doubt me, doubt this. I’ve wanted you since before we even met.”

“I never doubted you, Swan. Not for a moment. But you are an impossible woman sometimes,” he whispered, twisting his face to press his lips to her palm.

Stepping away from him, she reached out and let her hand trail slowly down his chest. With a saucy smile, she opened the door and backed into the living room. To her surprise, he didn’t trip over himself trying to get to her, rather he followed her inside and braced against the closed door, seemingly content to drink in the sight of her.

“I’ve dreamed of you every night since you left,” he admitted, hunger in his voice. “There were times I nearly got in my truck and drove to the loft.”

At this, he moved closer. His eyes never wavered from hers. She felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. He was the only person who could do this to her with nothing more than a look. He was standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the champagne on his breath but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “Tell me, love, would you have let me in?”

When she did nothing but shiver, he continued, “If I had gotten down on my knees and begged, would you have opened your door?”

His lips skimmed softly over her cheeks, then forehead, then her chin. Fleeting caresses that felt like gossamer against her heated skin. “If I had promised to be your devoted subject and do your bidding always, would you have allowed me to share your bed?”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you took your time,” she teased, her head light with desire. She had never felt like this before, this swirling, chaotic emotion that caused her to tremble. “Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Seal the deal,” she joked weakly, biting her bottom lip as she fought against the force of the passion that rocked her.

“You do have a way with words,” he teased. “I’m afraid the deal was sealed the minute we laid eyes on each other. Perhaps even before then. Fate hasn’t always been kind to me, love, but I’ll pay whatever price is needed a thousand times over to ensure that for the rest of our lives you continue to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

With a whimper, she gave in to temptation and closed the distance between them. The magic he weaved with his honeyed tone and bewitching words was nothing compared to how it felt when he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss, he carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to show her how much he meant every single thing he said.

—

They didn’t leave the cottage for two days and she was certain there was not a surface that wasn’t put to good use during that time. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and Emma was happily ensconced in some odd alternative universe where she was content and loved.

Eventually she emerged long enough to let Mary Margaret know she was still alive, to chat with Henry, to check in on August, and to cancel search plans with Graham. She knew sooner or later she would have to go back to the loft to collect her things if nothing else. Luckily, her slovenly ways and hasty exit from the cottage after their fight had proved useful in one regard. She had left enough of her belongings behind that she wasn’t walking around in her wedding outfit the whole time. It had done strange things to her heart to realize that he had collected all the clothes she left after their argument and neatly folded them, placing them in the top drawer of his bureau.

She noticed other signs of him making room for her in his life and, beyond that, making her feel welcome. Her preferred coffee cup was always clean and ready for her each morning. He had stocked her favorite shampoo in the shower, although how he knew it was her favorite when she never mentioned it she was still trying to figure out. He had added a couple of books to his shelves for her after a late night conversation about classics she had never had the chance to read.

Even when she had left, even when she had pushed him away, he hadn’t retreated. Not entirely. He had merely given her space to figure out what he had probably know all along...that they were good together and that needing someone wasn’t something to be feared.

So it was with some chagrin that she awoke Tuesday morning to find the bed empty. The quiet of the cottage was like a slap in the face after several blissful days of being adored. Even knowing he had to drop Anna and Kristoff off at the airport before meeting a client that morning at the marina, she was still surprised at how lonely it was. She, the woman who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance, was pining for a man after a mere five hours apart.

The wizardry of Killian Jones was limitless.

Looking over at the clock, she realized that yearning was all well and good but breakfast would be better. Taking her time to get showered and dressed, she walked out to the kitchen island to find a vase full of yellow flowers, a package of strawberry poptarts, and a note from her—whatever Killian was to her now—inviting her to join him at the marina when she woke up.

Grabbing a cup of cold coffee to go and the breakfast he left her, she ventured outside for the first time in days to find the sun shining brightly and the temperature pleasantly warm. She hastily ate her breakfast one-handed while driving to the marina with the windows rolled down. There was absolutely no traffic on the road and she pulled into the parking lot convinced that she was the only living soul in the area. Locking her car, she made her way to the last dock where the pirate ship was moored passing only one person on the way, a strikingly familiar redhead that caused her to do a double take.

Staring after the woman, she heard Killian shout. “Swan! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

Dragging her eyes away from the retreating figure, she faced the man who was responsible for the increasingly frequent smile to be found on her lips. “Never, Dr. Jones.” Climbing aboard, she gave him a quick kiss that he seemed to take as a challenge to extend. “Was that—“

“Ariel?” Killian continued to pepper her face with sweet kisses as if supremely unconcerned that there was a Hollywood starlet wandering around the docks. “Yes, she was the client I was meeting with this morning. The studio sent her to be briefed on pirate lore. I had intended to introduce you but my little Sleeping Beauty couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed at a decent hour.”

Snickering because they both knew why she needed the extra sleep, she allowed him to pull her into the Captain’s Quarters and promptly make her forget her own name.

[k0gamis]

Temptation ➝Shinkane Week 2019 Day 4 ➝WC: 7225 / Rating: explicit

Upon his return to the country, Akane visits an old friend to get drinks and catch up.

***

22:19

The mesmerizing lights of Tokyo are one of the things Akane loves the most about the city. At night, when the ink of night backdrops the towers and buildings that each forge a shape unique to every onlooker, she feels the lights are especially dazzling. 

She’d been enamored with the faux magic since her first drive through the city at night, when a last-minute interview for the CID awaited her in the morning, prompting an unexpected trip from her home in Chiba. She remembers the long breath she drew as her eyes settled on the skyline for the first time, watching the buildings shift around each other as the car drove on. She remembers wondering which building would be her hotel and what excitement she had to look forward to once she moved to the city for good; it was not unlike now, except the hotel she searches for in the distance is not hers, and she finds herself admittedly far more nervous than excited this time around.

The car drives automatically, which is unusual for her; Akane enjoys driving and normally likes to switch off the auto-pilot setting. But from time to time, especially at times like these, where her mind feels somewhere else and her eyes wander aimlessly outside the window, she lets the car drive itself.

She approaches the hotel as the car pulls into the parking lot, and Akane’s stomach does a flip. Her gaze flits between lit windows, counting up the rows until she hits floor number six. One of them belongs to room #644, and knowing him the curtains are likely closed, drawn open only enough so that his eyes can briefly dart outside to watch cars zip by on the freeway in between paragraphs of the book he’s reading.

When she steps off the elevator onto the sixth floor, her heart beats with the rhythm of her footsteps--perhaps even faster--as she follows the signs. Her fist raises, clenching once to squeeze out the nerves, then knocks twice and takes an anxious step back when the door opens.

He’s wearing a black bomber jacket that covers a white collared shirt tucked into dark jeans, somewhat reminiscent of the casual style he donned his formalwear all those years ago. She relaxes the second she catches his eye, feeling her shoulders unclench and the corners of her lips turning up; what had she been so nervous about?

He doesn’t offer the greeting of a normal person, and instead steps to the side so she can enter.

“You’re a bit overdressed,” he says, his voice as rough and calloused as ever. She missed the sound of it. “But you look nice.” 

“I came from a dinner party in Chiba,” she explains. Chiba was almost an hour away, leaving no time to change, though she would hardly classify a black pencil skirt and a white ribbed turtleneck as overdressed. She doesn’t argue, and lets him take her coat to hang it in the closet.

The room is small, contemporary, with one bed, a desk with a swivel chair, and a small black chaise in the corner where a paperback book sits open but facedown. The decorations are sleek and modern, brightening the space considerably. A mirror taking up the wall alongside the bed makes the room feel bigger than it looks. She was right about the curtains.

He seems uncomfortable the further into the room they venture. Or perhaps awkward was a better word.

“There’s a bar downstairs,” she says, and that’s all she has to say. Soon she’s back in the elevator and sitting across from him in a dimly-lit booth, ordering a margarita.

“This place seems a little fancy to be holed-up in,” she says casually. “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” he says. “And you’re right. The room feels stuffy.”

She giggles a little to herself, as she was thinking he would say something like that. It’s nice to know he hasn’t changed.

“How do the scanners work?” she asks. “Has your hue…?” She isn’t sure how to word her question, how to ask if his psycho pass has improved at all, especially since she is doubtful that it has. But she can’t think of another explanation for how he’s able to be placed here and walk around unsupervised, or to enter the bar without flagging the scanners.

He points to his skull with a single finger, similar to the shape of a gun. 

“It’s classified,” he says. 

“You can’t tell me?”

“It means I can’t be scanned without permission.”

“They’re placing an awful lot of trust in you to not cause trouble,” she says. He chuckles.

“Still not holding back your harsh remarks, I see.”

Before she can think of a response, their drinks are set down in front of them, Akane’s margarita glass standing tall above his scotch. She takes a tentative sip, watching as he downs a couple gulps without haste, nor does he grimace from the sultry taste.

“How are you?” she asks, her voice lowering. He stares into the contents of his glass, held by his fingers at the rim. The last time she’d seen him he wasn’t terrible, satisfied with distracting himself amidst guerilla operations and tactical advising. But satisfied doesn’t translate to being well, and based on one of their final conversations, he hadn’t seemed all that well at the time.

“I’m alright,” he says finally. It’s hard to get a read on him, to see how much of him is telling the truth. He notices the look of concern on her face despite her attempts to mask it. “Really. I am.”

“Have you thought about receiving psychological care?” she asks, not yet sold. 

“I’ve contemplated.” 

“That sounds like a no, then.”

“I’m still exploring my options. I only got back in the country a couple days ago.”

“Yes, I’m sure Poe’s poetry has all sorts of resourceful information about your options.” He smirks at her remark over his glass.

“Are you familiar, then?” he asks.

She shakes her head regrettably. “Not as well as I should be. I do more tactical reading these days.”

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” 

She smiles softly around the salt on her glass. “I’m tempted, but I’m not sure when I’d be able to return it.”

He shrugs. It’s not like she’d be on a deadline, since he isn’t going anywhere now. That much has yet to completely stick with her. It is almost too good to be true, that she has difficulty believing it at times. He had been away for so long, and even then she’d only known him for a few months prior to his disappearance. It feels unreal for him to be anything but gone. 

Did she even have the right to think of him as much as she did all these years, when she’d only known him for such a short amount of time in comparison?

“Why Chiba?” he asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

“What do you mean” she asks.

“Your dinner party.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice turning surprisingly sour. “It was for a school reunion.”

“You don’t seem too thrilled to have gone.” He finishes off his drink and waves a bartender over.

“Well Chiba isn’t exactly nearby,” she explains. “And then having to explain the death of your best friend to everyone who hasn’t heard over and over and…” She pauses, mostly because the bartender steps into earshot near their table, but also because she needs to collect the rest of her thoughts. She hasn’t yet finished her margarita but asks for a second anyway while he’s there, and finishes speaking once he’s gone to prepare their order. 

“Of course there were people who she knew who couldn’t come to the funeral, and some people who just didn’t know it happened at all, but there was an overwhelming amount of reactions that just seemed…” Her voice hangs in the air for a moment as she searches for the right word.

“Insincere?” he offers.

“Yes,” she says. “Exactly. It became all anyone wanted to talk about.”

“That sounds exhausting.” 

The way she swishes down a few gulps at once rather than the polite sips she’d been taking told him he’s right. Then she continues on, mentioning how one of her old classmates in particular was someone she has the misfortune of knowing more than she’d like to. He watches her finish the rest of her drink and wonders what she means by that. An ex-boyfriend, perhaps? Or was he simply fabricating reasons to project onto his dislike of this individual, other than by the way she spoke of him?

“He dated Yuki for...I’m not sure, a month, maybe?” she says, immediately dissolving his hypothesis and leaving him feeling foolish. “They broke up around the time we took our placement exams. Back then he found it just intriguing how he and I were the only two to score an A ranking for the Ministry of Commerce, which he brought up again tonight and wouldn’t shut up about it. That, and his absolutely incredibly well-paying job as a financial consultant.” 

She rolls her eyes and immediately reaches for her second drink once they’re dropped off at their table. He can’t help but feel amused watching her speak. It seemed his hypothesis wasn’t that far off. 

She seems to notice his gaze intent on her but misreads it, by the way she suddenly sits up straight, as though she’s caught herself doing something she isn’t supposed to be doing.

“I’m sorry,” she says, giving him a bashful smile. “I’m blabbering on about it. I’ll stop.”

Kogami shrugs. He isn’t bothered. He’s the one who asked in the first place.

“If you need to rant about slimy bastards who can’t take a hint, then you should rant,” he says simply, flashing her half a grin. She lets out a curt, breathy laugh, though she still looks apologetic. “Dude’s way out of his league, anyway. Doesn’t seem like your type in the slightest.”

“And just what do you know about my type?” She narrows her eyes inquisitively at him over the rim of her glass, hiding her lips behind it.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I know you’re not into someone with a boring office job, or incapable of holding an even remotely stimulating conversation, and definitely not someone shorter than you.”

For a moment she looks puzzled, and then her face softens into a curious smile. “Your profiling skills are as sharp as ever.”

He can’t tell if she’s referring to herself or to Mr. Financial Consultant, or maybe both, but he shrugs off the compliment anyway.

“Anything else exciting or otherwise noteworthy?” 

Her eyes roll a second time, like the mere act of giving thought to these previous events was as annoying as experiencing them.

“He invited me to his apartment so I could talk more about the tragedy if needed,” she says. The way her voice hardens on one particular phrase, coupled with the lingering traces of anger in her eyes, makes him want to subvert the topic.

“So how did you give him the slip?”

“I told him I had a date to get going to,” she says simply. He nearly chokes on his drink. The gentle rose rising to the tops of her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

He doesn’t remember choosing to lean forward, but then his arms are crossed on the table in front of him and there’s noticeably less distance between them.

“Is that what this is?” he asks.

“Would you call it something else?”

He keeps his gaze fixed on hers, looking for any hints of hesitancy, uncertainty, or even a trace of humor, yet he finds none of that. She stares back at him blankly; it’s a genuine question, and she expects a genuine answer.

“I guess not.” 

He studies her again, but differently this time--as though he’s letting himself truly look at her for the first time in a long time, which he is. Her face is no longer curved with juvenile softness like the first day they met; instead it’s been replaced with hardened edges, with stories he’s yet to listen to. Her eyes have grown more intimidating than ever, though she holds in them a gentleness that hasn’t faded in the slightest.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks. She brings a hand up to touch her cheek subconsciously. 

“No,” he answers. Then he notices she is shivering. “Are you cold?”

Her composure shifts suddenly, like she hadn’t even noticed that she was, in fact, cold, until he said something.

“A little,” she says. She glances up to the ceiling, finding an air vent positioned directly above their table. Just her luck; purposefully picking the booth furthest off to the side had to have some sort of drawback. 

When she turns her attention back to him, he’s shrugging out of his jacket.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” But of course, because he’s him, he ignores her protest and passes it over the table. She hesitates, but takes it anyway, thanking him quietly. When she slips her arms through the sleeves, it’s warm and smells like his cigarettes. It’s surreal to find his scent somewhere other than her ashtray.

“Aside from all of that,” he says, referring to her less-than-pleasant dinner party, “how are you?”

“I’m doing fine,” she says. “Though I feel like I’ve talked about myself too much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says.

“I want to hear one of your stories,” she insists. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from.”

“You’re putting me on the spot,” he says. “Now it’ll be hard to think of one.”

“Did you meet anyone special?” she asks. 

“What do you mean by ‘special?’”

“Like interesting, noteworthy, quirky, I don’t know. Someone with a story.”

He has to think for a moment, though it looks as though he’s contemplating what he wants to tell rather than searching for something to say.

First he tells her of the few temporary comrades he traveled with after leaving SEAUn, who were mostly mercenaries like him skating by and keeping a low profile. She chuckles to herself as she tries to picture him , of all people, keeping a low profile, which she then explains once he questions her reaction. He laughs along with her briefly, but it doesn’t last long.

His eyes change when his story shifts, and he tells her of a young girl he met named Tenzing. He doesn’t tell her much. His story focuses more on the act of saving a bus full of refugees from armed guerillas--which, to her, sounds a lot more like him than in the previous tale--and how he was followed by the young girl, who’d been on the bus, to seek self defense training. 

He tells her she was a cheerful, enthusiastic child with a lot of passion and promise, and that he agreed to train her because she was an orphan of war, and that he felt sorry for her. He pauses there, and she can see the sadness hardening his eyes like steel. She can tell that there is more to the story, but he seems hesitant to continue. So she gives him an out.

“Sometimes I wonder if kindness is actually your true weakness,” she muses aloud. 

That takes him aback. “As opposed to something else?”

“I would have said fear before, but now I might be thinking differently.”

He leans back against the booth cushion and studies her with a calculating eye, crossing his arms over his chest. “You must think you have me all figured out, then, right?”

“Is it rude of me to say that I think I do? To a degree at least?”

“It’s not so much rude as it is ballsy,” he says.

She laughs, but goes on to explain her reasoning. “I’ll admit, you puzzled me when we first met,” she says. “I couldn’t figure you out for awhile.”

“That’s funny,” he interjects. “I used to feel the same about you.”

“Do you think you have me all figured out, too?”

“More or less. To a degree,” he adds with a smirk. “Though I’m not as confident as you seem to be.”

“What it comes down to is an understanding of someone’s character,” she says. It took her a long time to figure that out, though she hadn’t figured it out all on her own. “When you understand their character, you can understand their reasoning behind most things.”

“And when you understand reasoning, you can make all sorts of inferences,” he finishes. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” 

She nods. She gives him a curious smile, seeing the gears turn in his head. She wonders what he’s going to say next.

“Put your theory to the test, then,” he challenges, throwing back the last of his drink and setting the glass down at the end of the table. “If you have me all figured out, tell me what you think my type is.”

It’s her turn to be taken aback, and she feels her cheeks grow warm. She avoids his eyes, at first wondering why this prompt of all things, then supposes it’s his way of making up for poking fun at her regarding the same topic earlier. Either way, she decides to humor him.

“You’re similar to me,” she says thoughtfully, “you prefer someone intellectually stimulating. Monotony bores you, so you like someone who can keep you on your toes--but not someone too reckless, even though that’s rather hypocritical, if you ask me.” He chuckles at the abrupt drop in her tone, riddled with vexation, before she continues. “You have a very protective nature, so you prefer someone that you can easily protect. But you also like when someone has a strong sense of self and can be assertive when they need to be. There’s a complicated balance there, but the right person won’t make it complicated.”

He takes a long moment to consider everything when she finishes.

“I’d give that about an eighty-five percent accuracy,” he says finally. “Maybe ninety.”

“Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t mention anything about physicalities.”

“You’re not materialistic; you value intellect more than anything. I didn’t think things that are particularly important to you.”

“Not most things, but some things.”

Now she’s the one who doesn’t remember leaning forward. “Like what?”

He mirrors her instinctively, with a peculiar repressed grin on his lips--almost coy. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” she shrugs. She distracts herself by sipping on what was left of her drink.

“Was I?”

She backtracks when she pauses to recall the exchange just a moment before. “It was more of a group effort,” she decides. “But either way, I wouldn’t consider physical preferences as something that can be deduced by one’s character.”

“All right then,” he says. “I take it back. I’ll give you ninety-five percent accuracy.”

“What about the other five?”

“You really don’t settle for less than perfect scores, do you?” 

She laughs, because he’s right, yet she fixes a look on him that tells him she isn’t backing down until she hears his answer. Always so persistent and thorough. He sighs.

“It would be inappropriate to say,” he says quietly, and he almost feels bad for the urge to chuckle he has when the rose hue returns to her complexion. She finishes her drink then scoots the empty glass to sit discarded beside his.

“Is it because you’re shy?” she asks. There’s a ghost of a challenge in her tone that he’s positive he isn’t imagining. He no longer feels bad. 

He chooses his next words carefully.

“It’s...more of a conversation that would be better had upstairs.” 

For a moment, the air between them is stiffer from his implications hanging heavily in it. It takes her a second to process his words, and then she seems to process them a second time to have them finally click, cued by her eyes widening just slightly. Before she responds to him, she checks the time via the terminal on her wrist. He’s surprised by how strongly he anticipates her answer, by how his heart beat with a more vigorous rhythm in his chest than it was just moments before.

“I’m tempted, but,” she says, following her words with a sigh, and he already knows what comes next. “It’s getting late, and I have plans in the morning. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, waving away her apology. Her unwavering sense of responsibility hasn’t changed either, it seems. His ego isn’t bruised by any means. The admittance of temptation alone is enough to satisfy him. 

“Perhaps when you find time to return the book, you won’t be visiting too late,” he says. 

“I’ll make sure to leave the following morning open, too,” she says, offering him a smile before she gets up to pay the bill.

Back upstairs, she swaps his jacket for her coat, and even though hers is thicker and more suited for the wintry gusts swirling outside, it’s not nearly as warm. She takes Poe from his outstretched hand and tucks it into her purse, and from there she isn’t sure how to bid him goodnight. She feels a desire to do something, but nothing fitting comes to mind. He doesn’t offer anything other than holding the door open for her.

As she steps through the door, she assures him she will call a taxi instead of driving herself home, and promises she will come say hello in the morning when she returns for her car--if he’s awake, that is--and then he returns her ‘goodnight’ as she makes her way down the hall.

She listens for the sound of his door closing as she approaches the elevator, but she doesn’t turn around even though she never hears it. 

Once down in the lobby, she makes her way to the front door with a taxi service pulled up on her cell phone. On her way, she passes by the bar she was just sitting in a few minutes ago. A smile dances on her lips, warming her from head to toe. It may be the most recent, but this memory is definitely the one she’s most fond of, even if it was rather fleeting in comparison to the others.

And then something about that thought makes her stop in her tracks, just a short distance from the revolving door. Her thumb hovers over the button she’s just pressed, promising a momentary pick-up, but her eyes are fixed on the cancel button in the corner.

Does she really have to leave so soon? She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and she’s already leaving with no definitive plans to see him again after what, less than an hour? That hardly seems fair in comparison.

She turns back to the bar, and from where she stands, peering into the open space, she can see the table where they sat. The bartender is only just now collecting their used cups, preparing to wipe down the table, and she remembers the way his hand curled around the base of his glass when he drank, how his fingertip drew circles around the rim when he spoke, how his eyes shone in a way that matched his glass reflecting the light fixtures above when he gave her an implied invitation back upstairs. 

Perhaps it’s the two margaritas to blame, but she quickly hits ‘cancel’ before she can stop herself. And then she’s walking back into the bar to the counter, and purchases a bottle of Cabernet while she types up a message to Kaori. She hits send, takes back her card and freshly unsealed bottle, and makes her way back to the elevator.

He’s just finished undoing the last button of his shirt when there’s an unexpected knock at the door, barely audible with the shower running. He leans past the curtain to twist the knob, shutting off the water. As he makes his way to the door, he wonders if it’s Akane, but he knows she didn’t forget anything; or maybe it’s a housekeeper, though it seems a bit late for that.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see Akane standing before him, holding up a bottle of Cabernet with a look of question in her eyes. They drop briefly to his midsection, then flit back up to his face just as quickly as they fell.

“This isn’t a taxi,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He can see her throat contract when she swallows.

“I don’t need one,” she asserts.

He suppresses a grin and steps to the side, closing the door behind her. She slips off her shoes and drops her purse to the small table next to the closet.

“What happened to your morning plans?” he asks, taking from her the wine bottle as well as her coat. He holds onto the back of the collar while she slips herself out of it.

“I pushed them back,” she says. “Did I interrupt something?” She gestures to his shirt, which still hangs open from his shoulders.

“Just a shower.” With her coat hung properly in the closet, he slides the door shut.

“Well don’t let me stop you,” she says, offering a kind smile. “I can wait.”

“You sure?”

She nods, then pulls the book of poetry from her purse as he turns and heads back into the bathroom, after tossing the bottle safely onto the bed. She can hear the water switch on through the closed door while she surveys the room, and reaches around her neck to remove her necklace.

A small stack of paper cups sit beside a coffee maker on the desk. They aren’t technically proper, but they work just fine for casually drinking wine. She pours herself a small amount, leaving her necklace and earrings on the desk, and curls up on the chaise with his book.

Kogami is quick; by the time Akane reads through only two pages, she hears the sudden absence of pouring water followed by the screech of shower curtain rungs being pulled to the side. She pauses her reading, sipping Cabernet from her paper cup, and decides to wait for him before she continues.

His hair is still wet when he sits down beside her, and he wears the same clothes as before, only his shirt is buttoned rather lazily. The top of his chest is exposed, and she has a nice view of his collarbone. She briefly wonders before deciding with suspicious certainty that he’s done it very much on purpose.

He glances down to read the page where she holds the book open.

“‘Annabelle Lee’ is one of my favorites,” he comments, before swallowing a rather generous amount of liquid from his own cup.

“Really?” she asks. “That’s a bit of a surprise to me.”

“What do you think of it?” he asks.

“I like it,” she says, “but I think I’d like it more if you read it aloud.” He gives her a perceptive smile, obliging, and he dumps back the rest of his wine impressively fast so he can take the book from her hands after discarding the cup to the floor. He invites her to lean into him, draping his arm behind her shoulders across the back of the chaise. She does, with a warm fluttering in her stomach, and curls her legs up onto the seat underneath her, resting her head comfortably against his shoulder.

As he reads, Akane finds that the poem is significantly better read in his voice, which is low and rough, compared to reading it in her head. Something about the rugged resonance of his voice telling the tale of a love so strong and intense that it makes angels envious, a love that ultimately suffers the tragedy of death, brings it to life, as though his voice alone could sculpt the tale into reality. 

He turns the page and continues to read, and she listens. Her eyes follow along with the words as he reads them aloud, and she sips on Cabernet until her cup is empty and she holds it lazily with both hands in her lap.

Eventually, the sound of his voice coaxes her eyes to relax, and they flutter closed. Before long, Kogami notices, and he pauses, craning his neck forward to inspect.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he asks. She hasn’t, and her eyes open. Having his answer, he pulls back.

“No,” she answers anyway. “It’s just nice to hear you read.”

“You didn’t come back just to listen to me read.” It comes out as both a question and a statement, but she stiffens nevertheless when she feels his breath tickle her ear. She can feel his eyes on her, studying her, reading her reaction, and she wants to return his gaze, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the book in his lap.

She can speak, at the very least.

“What did I come back for, then?” she asks. Her words come out sounding stronger than she feels. She wants to say more, to help steer the conversation like she had absolutely no problem doing when she sat across the table from him earlier, but the warm shape of his body against hers is incredibly distracting. Her eyes study the shape of his hand, the bridges of his fingers as they rest on worn pages. She wonders what they feel like.

“A stimulating conversation, maybe,” he muses. His voice is lower than normal, and she can still feel his breath on her ear, and his arm draped behind her edges noticeably closer until she feels it against her back and his hand cups her shoulder.

“You are good at those,” she says through a shaky breath. She notices a small movement in the corner of her eyes so her gaze flits to it, and she finds herself eyeing the zipper of his pants.

“So I’ve heard.” Her cheeks start to feel warm.

“I liked the one we were having downstairs,” she manages. Kogami slowly closes the book, but continues to hold it in his lap.

He hums with feigned confusion, and though she cannot see his face, she can hear the smirk he’s undoubtedly wearing. “You’re going to have to refresh my memory.”

“We were talking about weaknesses,” she says, and as she speaks he moves the book to drop on the floor.

“We never did talk about yours, did we?”

She doesn’t know why, but she laughs. Maybe it’s because she’s feeling on edge, anticipating what comes next, and didn’t think this would be it.

“I really don’t know what it is,” she says with uncertain honesty. She watches as his hand reaches for hers, plucking the empty cup from them and discarding it to join the book. “Sometimes I think I’m too cold-hearted.”

This time Kogami is the one to laugh. The sound of it bursting from his chest melts away some of the tension in her shoulders.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“Because my psycho-pass doesn’t cloud.”

“That’s the last word I would use to describe you,” he says, replacing the hole left gaping in her hands with his own. It’s big and warm and fits perfectly between hers, and holding it gives her a sudden rise of insurmountable courage, as though it were a chink in his armor that she can cling to for purchase. She turns her body just slightly so she can look up at him comfortably, and his hand moves from her shoulder to hover just over the back of her neck.

“How would you describe me, then?” she asks, hoping to turn the conversation to her favor. He mirrors her, pulling a leg up onto the seat so he can face her too.

Despite her effort, Kogami is impossible to catch off guard.

“Intellectually stimulating,” he says thoughtfully, and though he doesn’t smile, there is an unmistakable hint of amusement in the corners of his lips. “Maybe you can be a little reckless, but you work with caution. You’re careful and thoughtful. You’re small-” and when he says this, a charmed smile bleeds through his expression despite his efforts to suppress it, “-easy to protect. And you’re an independent thinker. You aren’t afraid to do things your own way. And you’re complicated, but in the best way.”

When he finishes, her cheeks are uncomfortably warm and he’s leaning a lot closer than he was before. She does, admittedly, feel touched upon hearing his words, but despite that, her eyes are wide and taken aback. It’s not verbatim, but he’s just repeated her words from earlier to describe her, and it’s a substantial pill for her to digest.

Still, brave words leave her mouth before she even realizes she is speaking.

“I give that a ninety-five percent,” she says, countering him, her tone incongruent with her demeanor. She’s tense, and she grips his hand to keep hers from trembling. He notices.

“That last five percent is making you nervous,” he observes aloud. His voice, though low and rough, somehow has an easing effect with an unusual gentleness. Maybe it’s the fact that he can read her like a book and she doesn’t have to say it that makes her relax, even if it’s only miniscule.

“A little,” she admits. He surprises her when he takes one of her hands and raises it, her eyes following out of curiosity.

“Don’t be,” he says to her skin. “It’s just me.” A kiss to the back of her hand sends an excited flutter rippling through her nerves, raising the hair on her arms as her heart leaps in her chest so loudly that she’s she he can hear it.

He is right, and she’s fully aware of it. She knows she shouldn’t be nervous around him. There exists nobody else in the world that she trusts more than the man kissing her hand, holding her in the ghost of an embrace.

“Although there’d be no hard feelings if you got that taxi after all.”

It is this moment that secures her in place. He’s giving her an out, before they walk over the line that cannot be uncrossed. A line of which she has never strayed across before, not with anybody, ever, nor has it even been as close as it is now, just under her fingertips, encircling her with a tempting hand teasing the back of her neck and a knee guarding her in place. 

Perhaps what makes her tremble is the stark unfamiliarity of senses heightened contrasting with how drawn she is to him, how she longs for nothing but to undo the rest of his buttons and lose herself in what comes after.

It’s sweet, but the idea of leaving now is simply laughable. Her hand travels to his thigh, gripping it with silent reassurance.

Her eyes, wide and brown and eager, say it even louder. His are stormy, and in them she can see the way his heart pounds mercilessly just as hers does, and yet there’s a coolness smoothing his slate sky into something tameable.

Control, she realizes, and she wonders in an instance like this what he’s like without it.

His long hand finally settles at the base of her neck, warm and ever present through the thin layer of her sweater. Her own hand falls from his grip to melt into the crook of his elbow as he moves to capture her jaw instead, and she practically pulls herself towards him by his thigh as he leans into her, until their lips meet and she’s delighted to find his are much softer than they look.

She’s pulled into his lap within moments, his hand cradling her underside and trapping her in place, though she hardly minds. Her fingers fumble awkwardly with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open as far as his shoulders will allow once she frees him of the garment, her polished nails grazing his skin as she drags her hands up his neck to cup his jaws, holding him close as he kisses her furiously.

He breaks the kiss only to slip her sweater up over her head, and the second she’s free he captures her lips again, forcing them apart with his. His tongue, she finds, is just as soft and inviting as his lips.

Distracted, she doesn’t take much notice of his collection of her wrists, as he gently pulls each of them behind her back until he locks one hand ensnared tightly around them. She jumps at this, faltering from his lips, and rests her forehead against his, still close enough that she can feel his sultry breath warming her face. 

“Too forward?” he asks, and his rough voice is low and just as hot. 

She shakes her head, and she can feel her cheeks glowing with heat; they deepen in color when his eyes narrow curiously and he asks if she rather likes it, to which she nods. And she likes it a lot more when he rewards her honesty with a kiss, but this time he is slower, and more gentle, and as he kisses her his free hand trails down the exposed curves of her body until he’s inching under the hem of her skirt and slowly hiking it up her thigh. 

She shudders when his fingers finally forge their way between her legs, and as he strokes her softly he breathes in every single one of the faint cries that spill from her lips.

“Are you still interested in that perfect score?” he asks, muttering in her ear. To her credit, she gives him a playful smirk despite the distracting treatment he’s giving her in her willfully confined predicament.

“The gentleman would really reveal his secrets to me?” she teases. He pulls back to look at her, shooting her a self-depreciating leer of his own.

“I’m no gentleman,” he says. 

“You are to me,” she counters, meeting his gaze firmly. Looking at her, he can’t say she’s entirely wrong. His hand retracts, and although she can’t see it beneath the fabric of her skirt, her eyes dart down instinctively as if looking to see why he stopped. But just as quickly, he tips her gaze back up to his by the gentle grip of her chin, and he’s smiling at her strangely.

“I wonder why that is,” he says. His stare is warm and inviting, and it leaves her heart fluttering as he leans in, closing the distance between them once more, only his lips are rougher, and more insistent. Then he releases her wrists silently, placing them on his shoulders one at a time, and then he’s standing, lifting her into the air with him. 

He lays her back on the bed, and the lights automatically dim, casting a dull, white glow over them that leaves her bare skin radiant like silver. 

Her skirt is too restrictive, and that’s a problem; before he crawls over her frame, he rids her of it entirely, slipping the black from her silky legs along with her tights. She parts her knees for him eagerly, her lips awaiting his return with heated fervor.

In the dark, it’s easier. Hesitation no longer exists, and neither does the past that kept them apart for so long.

He murmurs in her ear with his hand buried beneath her panties, his touches no longer slow and soft, but fast, and rough with need. She struggles to keep up with him.

“I like someone who wants me to take the lead,” he says gruffly. It takes her only a quick moment to figure out what he’s talking about. “Someone who likes to be submissive.”

She can feel the heat spreading across her face, like his rough voice melts into liquid that drips from his lips to her skin and ignites her all the way down to her core. He lets his words hang in the air for a few long moments, busying himself with leaving wet kisses along her neckline.

When her only response is nothing but breathy gasps, he turns the tables on her instead.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your type?” he goads. Being inexperienced, she doesn’t know how to answer, and his generous attention on her makes it difficult to think. But she likes this, more deeply than she thought she would, so that has to mean something, right?

She blurts it out without meaning to, but it’s not the wrong answer.

“You.”

By the way his lips freeze, lingering just above her skin, coupled by his fingers slowing inside her, she guesses that it was not what he was expecting to hear. For a second, she worries she’s said the wrong thing, came on too strongly, pushed herself too far forward on a weak limb.

Minute traces of panic creep through her fingertips as his hand slips from inside her, but are instantly quelled as he shifts his body completely over hers, and he cups her face with both of his hands. Cracks are starting to form in that smooth gloss masking his storm.

The next kiss is hungry, demanding. He’s quickly losing his will to hold back. His hands can’t sit still, and they trade places between holding her jaw, snaking into her hair, and gently squeezing the side of her neck, his thumbs tracing carefully over her trachea with restraint.  His knees force hers apart, and she works on forcing him out of his shirt despite the mess of his hands, freeing his thick arms for her to grab onto appreciatively for purchase.

He moves back to her neck, twisting her face away with a firm grip of her chin, his palm daring to press deeper into her throat. She gasps at the feeling of his lips, enjoying the subtle pressure of his hand. Her hips start to move, seeking relief for the heated excitement flaring between her thighs, but as quickly as they start, she stops herself. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s okay,” he says softly against her skin. “Don’t be shy. Show me how badly you want me.” His words of encouragement arouse a new layer of heat to her cheeks that she’s grateful he can’t see in the dark, but she gives in, letting her reservation melt away with the kisses he trails down to her collarbone. His hips meet hers as she grinds against him, and with it she lets out a pleased groan that curls his lips.

Soon after his hands glide beneath her shoulders, and she lifts herself to give his fingers room to slip off her bra. Her hands take root in wet clumps of his hair when he dips his head to her breast, taking the sensitive skin in his mouth and dragging his tongue around it until he’s pulling from her a light string of moans that grind his hips roughly against hers.

The tautness of her fingers alerts him of her growing impatience, closely matching his. His hands drift downward over her stomach, curling around the top of her panties and slipping them down her thighs, but then he freezes suddenly, cursing once he realizes he doesn’t have protection.

Luckily, she’s come prepared, and gestures for her purse on the table. He retrieves it for her, and jots down a quick mental reminder to stock up on his own supply, noting the exact brand labeled on the little square she produces triumphantly from her bag, holding it up in the air like a hard-earned trophy.

He takes it from her hands, then he steps off the bed to slip from the confines of his jeans, and she nudges her panties from her ankles using her feet. The dull light shining from above the headboard lights his skin aglow, and she watches the shadows of his large muscles dance along his arms while he unzips his pants and shifts to step out of them. 

He moves at a slow enough pace that she can take in all of him with affectionate, sultry eyes, but not too slow so as to not waste any time. His patience is wearing dangerously thin, and from the gaping distance between them she can see the storm of his eyes threatening to break the glass that holds him back. 

Eyeing her body while he rolls on the condom only makes him eager to ingrain the shape of her to his hands’ memory. She lays with her head propped up by pillows, and she watches him with parted, wet lips and a hungry stare. One hand rests above her breast, as though she were holding her heart in place where it threatened to burst from her chest, while the other squeezes the comforter in anticipation. Her legs are bent, her knees resting together, and he’s not sure if she’s fully aware of the intimate display she gives him or if she’s doing it on purpose, but either way, it’s hidden, cast in the shadow of her thighs.

His hands part them needlessly as he moves over her, and she melds her chest to his as he settles on top of her. She cradles his jaw between her soft hands as he lowers his mouth to hers. The kiss is rough and filled with need, and when he plunges himself into her that need isn’t sated in the slightest; rather, it intensifies drastically.

The first few thrusts are careful, calculating, ensuring she isn’t uncomfortable or hurt, but the way she throws her head back in relief, the intensity of her grip as her hands slide to his shoulders, the way her legs wrap tightly around his waist, all push him just over the edge of caution.

His hips pick up in pace and soon he’s snapping against her in a steady rhythm, and he’s grabbing her wrists to pin her hands just above her crown, their fingers lacing together as he crushes his lips to hers possessively, devouring her pleasured cries in his throat. He has to pull away after a moment to allow them to breathe, and he inches their hands higher above her head, caging her face between his arms. As his thrusts grow rougher and faster, he grunts into her shoulder, and her voice rises higher in pitch, chiming in the air like a blissful song floating through his ears. It only pushes him to move faster, harder, deeper into her to see just how much she can take, how much higher he can guide her cries, until her back is arching sharply and her chest presses roughly into his, and her head is thrown back in a final cry as her body convulses with pleasure beneath his, and he follows shortly behind her with a throaty groan into the softness of her neck.

He rests there for a long moment, holding himself up just enough for her to breathe as deeply as she needs to, to catch her breath while he catches his, taking refuge in her warmth. She pries her hands from under his to hold him. Her fingertips massage his scalp lazily, smiling gently when stray tufts of his hair tickles her nose.

Aside from the dim light above them, the window is the only other source of light in the room, and so her eyes are drawn to the open space between the drapes. The sky outside is darker than their room, illuminated by the very same city lights she tenderly watched pass her by as she drove to see him earlier in the night.

The bubbling nervousness she’d felt then, to her, is simply ludicrous as she lay beneath him now, happy and content and without a care in the world. This isn’t how she’d pictured the night to progress, and she isn’t normally one to give into temptations, especially if those temptations breach her responsibilities. 

But as she looks back down at him, at the scruffy, damp mess of his unruly hair sticking out between her fingers, she can’t help but smile. He undoubtedly is, and always will be, an exception. And she is perfectly fine with that.

[goldenworldsabound]

Sparkling cider and passion-orange juice for auron? -jaklovemail

@jaklovemail thank youuuu

Sparkling cider: have you and your f/o(s) ever been to a formal event together? Would you like to? What did/would you wear?

Hm, I guess we haven’t? I could imagine there might be something to honor guardians and Yuna since we saved the world but we also specifically skipped out on that djhksfjds and Auron was totally gonna wear his normal outfit for something like that anyway

I would LIKE to go to a formal event with him I love that shit. I feel like he’d wear Japanese formalwear (which I’m not super versed in other than IT’S PRETTY IT’S REALLY PRETTY and I’d love that. I would be happy to match him as well uwu I imagine he’d stick with his usual red and I might go for pink or gold myself!

but I also have this imagine of him wearing a suit (I love my faves in suits) but a) he’s still wearing it like a sling and b) he’s popped his collar up HWKFHJEW and in this situation I’m just wanna wear a super pretty dress like...sparkly sort of thing. Pretty into mermaid fit type dresses but also poofy ballgown-ish stuff is pretty awesome so it’s hard to decide!!!

I want to draw either of these setups honestly.

Passion-orange juice: how do you get along with your f/o(s)’s friends? How do they get along with yours? What do they think of each other?

We mostly share friends :) the general conclusion about Auron is that he’s VERY stoic but everyone still generally looks up to him as a mentor type figure. Everyone really enjoys catching him being tender with me and trying to tease him about it :p it’s much easier to tease me about it though as I’m the opposite of stoic. More specifics...

Yuna - She views me as a strong familial figure. I helped raise her after all. We’re really close and care dearly for each other. At first she sees Auron as a figure to be respected - a legendary friend of her father. She of course continues to respect him but she also realizes he’s a person. She thinks he should be less stoic about his affections for me but she’s just happy to see us both happy ;w;

Tidus - He has his sort of familial relationship with Auron. Auron was still probably fairly absent as Tidus got older though. I think no matter how much he wanted to Auron wasn’t going to be an amazing parental figure after what he went through. Their relationship is complicated. Tidus thinks Wendy is a bit...well, he doesn’t take her seriously at first. He doesn’t get why everyone else sees her as kind of mentorly and seems to look up to her. As time goes on he comes to realize for himself why that is and comes to respect me. (is he slightly jealous of how close Yuna is to me? just a little and he gets over it but :p ) He also likes to goof around with me cause I enjoy being silly now and again.

Lulu - Being fellow mages (and me being the older one) she looks up to me! Of course I’m equally impressed with her talent in magic. We bond over that a bunch while she’s growing up, and continue to do so even after. She and Auron are kindred spirits with regard to their personalities, so they get along very well. They’re the kind to sit back while the others get up to shenanigans and shake their heads a little.

Wakka - He is so in awe of Auron at first WOW LEGENDARY GUARDIAN just star struck. He retains a little of this starstruckness, but he also figures that he and Auron are pals now and he’s the kind of friend who teases pals. As for me, I was around while he grew up, and it’s a similar kind of mentorly bond. If he has a problem, and he and Lulu can’t figure it out, he’s like to ask me. He also likes to goof around with me cause it’s easy to make me laugh and easy to tease me!

Kimahri - We...aren’t exactly close even though we spent 10 years together watching over Yuna. Kimahri still keeps pretty distant. But there’s clear mutual respect and trust between us. He’s got clear respect for Auron as well. I always wondered what he thought about the fact that Auron, a clearly dying man, told him to watch over Yuna...and then 10 years later appeared. Did he know Auron was unsent? Kimahri is so hard for me to write for I honestly can’t decide if he did or not. Or if he just...didn’t care enough to worry about it. I’m inclined to think he had his suspicions but decided it wasn’t worth worrying over.

Rikku - She wants to adopt me as a familial fave FKWHFWK she likes that I get excited about stuff including learning about Al-Bhed stuff from her (I might practice my Al-Bhed with her a few times - I am far from fluent but she appreciates the effort). She thinks Auron is too grumpy and should lighten up :p she’s always trying to be silly and get him to respond in kind which does not happen ever but she keeps at it :p

(if I got this question again I’ll do Braska and Jecht haha, this was enough characters!)

[emmelfish]

So, it looks like the roaring success of a wedding party added to Brandi’s reputation. You sure you don’t wanna roundhouse kick your BFF Dina there for smooching your firstborn son?

(John Burb – lover of drama, sitter of fences, gossip extraordinaire and never met a dirty joke he doesn’t like – glides by without a word but a mental note to regale his wife with all the sordid details.)

I still don’t know which of the two of them initiated that, but I guess this is what happens when you combine cute blond Fortune sims, one of whom has recently reached an... eligible age?... and our old friend ACR.

Darren had at least five of those six beers, so this doesn’t surprise me in the least. Dreamer, I’m cutting you off!

Time to celebrate the transition of the terrible twins, the perfect ending to this... interesting wedding.

Growing up next to a rain puddle, is it everything you ever dreamed of Skip Jr?

Sadly, it’s also time to say goodbye to the Mortimer Goth cosplay and the buzzcut...

... and hello to... this! I’m pretty sure given he’s Sloppy and Playful, SJ’ll be a Nature sim, so it’s not even like this is hobby-appropriate costuming (it’d be better for his sister, she’s bound to be Sports or Fitness with her personality points).

There’s something so ritualistic about the way they stand around cheering somebody aging, I love it. It’s even better in weddingwear.

I’m also a big fan of how different Skip Jr looks to his older brothers. And this genetic correctness! I’m not sure how we ever put up with the gender-reversed Brandi clone EAxis stuck in the vanilla game. THANK YOU @meetmetotheriver 💟

I’m excited that he grew up well, but scared of what kind of child he’ll be. Nowhere near as terrified as I am re: Suse though.

Darren finally told one dirty joke too many? And in front of A CHILD?! No wonder he and John Burb get along so well.

Beau: Hey I’m gonna be a teenager in like a day, I can take it.

We’ll be the judge of that.

Oh god, I don’t know if I even really want to do this, but here we go.

Yo Bran, when did you change into your afterparty gear? (Seriously, I had no idea she had that maternity formalwear lurking in her wardrobe.)

Susie: *stares at fire* Yes, yes, consume the souls of my nemeses...

Skip Jr: Uh, Mr Dad, I think you’re supposed to put her down.

Beau: This is gold.

Skip Jr: Seriously DreamerDaddy, I really think she’s meant to be on the floor...?

Skip Jr: I can’t watch.

(Legitimately though, at this point I was hiding from the screen and peeping through my fingers to take these screenshots. I love a good glitch, but this was beyond terrifying.)

OH MY GOD.

THEY’VE MERGED INTO SOME KIND OF MONSTER.

Oh thank heavens. I just had Darren do the ‘put Susie here’ action and while her arms did get stuck like this for a while, everything went back to normal and she was a child and not some warped giant baby. Good bloody lord! Darren, had you forgotten how to transition a toddler? Dirk’s not that old!

Hey Suse, you’d better not be hunting bugs just to set fire to them.

Susie: Well I won’t be setting fire to anything if my stupid jar stays this empty.

While I’m kind of loving Susie’s blazer and jeans, gotta get those twins into the colors they were in as tots. It’s my rule! (When feasible.)

Yeah we get it guys, you love each other because you’re both pretty awful. Had enough of this yet Beau?

Beau: Urgh. I’m disappearing into a place where I can control everything, thank you very much. This here dollhouse.

That sounds like a strangely familiar concept.

Ah, back to some semblance of a (relatively) normal life! Skip Jr’s already making good use of those Playful Grouchy traits by beating Beau to death with a pillow, and Susie’s slyly charming her way into an older brother’s affections just as she did with Dustin.

This loading screen will look rather different... imminently. Room for two more?

Oh yeah! Remember Dustin’s strange schoolfriend who marched brazenly into the Broke trailer and randomly picked up and snuggled the twins when they were but babes? Skip Jr clearly does, and now that he can articulate this experience, is telling Beau just how traumatic it was.

Back to plate-making, you! Yes I know you want a vacay, and you’ll get one when you sell several more of these. Also what’s that ‘get caught cheating’ fear? Why is cheating even crossing your mind? You literally just got married and it upped your chem with Daz by one whole bolt – three is the magic number, don’t mess with perfection!

With Susie being an active-grouchy sports lover, I got her a nice Goal of Paul to play with. Of course the first thing she does is stand in it and jeer her brother.

Skip Jr: Listen sis, this is your game not mine.

I’m fine with whatever happens as long as that ball doesn’t hit poor Darleen’s gravestone.

Susie: So what we got going here.

Beau: Well we have this whole saga, see. Shirley here has been struggling with her feelings towards Muriel for quite some time now –

Susie: So she sets fire to Muriel’s hair in a passionate fury and then these two ladies over here come and chop her good with samurai swords to avenge Muriel?

Beau: Uh, no –

Susie: ‘I curse the day Shirley was born!’ ‘As do I, we will demand blood for blood!’

Beau: *sighs* Not really what I was going for. How exactly are we related again?

Susie: This is great! Do you have any of those little green army men? Let’s have them explode the house in an act of WAR.

Oh hi! Tinkering Lady is COOL! Dirk finally bagged the elusive invite to go play with cars and trains and robots. I think he’s our first too.

I am going to aggressively marry her into one of the families at some point, I have to. Boho style, badass purple streak in her hair and pink eyes too? She has it all!

Brandi, that is not acceptable. You have a pottery badge for crying out loud.

Oh okay, you’re going into labor. I suppose that’s a fair excuse.

Even cool Tinkering Lady is running to see the miracle of life!

Darren: Oh, you’re having the babies, love? That’s nice.

THE MOTHERFUDGING VERTICAL RING GLITCH IS BACK AGAIN ON HIS SECOND FRIGGING MARRIAGE

Susie?

Susie: Astarte and Proserpine are busy avenging Muriel and fending off acts of terror, god, leave me alone.

Dirk looks like he’s singing a power ballad and I’m loving it. Meanwhile Beau is like, this ain’t my first rodeo.

Here we go... again. AGAIN.

The cramming into the doorway while Brandi gives birth in the narrowest place in the whole house is a treat tbh.

And here they are! We gots two gals. Not saying they’re not lovely, call me a picky sim breeder but I was expecting them to be... at least S3? The genetics in this game confuse me sometimes.

Speaking of genetics, look at this brown-eyed babe! Take your pick, they could be from Brandi’s dad or either or Darren’s parents. I’ve named them after surrealist artists (because I figured their parents’d be into that), so we have little Frida here...

... and mere seconds younger, her sister Remedios!

As per usual everybody cheers the firstborn twin and poor Remy doesn’t get a look-in. Even Susie dragged herself away from her macabre soap opera to say hi.

Susie: Who run the world? GIRLS! Who run the world?

Skip Jr: Bang bang!

Beau: No. I only have three Playful points. I refuse to engage in your nonsense.

And here are the twin ladies in their matching rubberbabybuggybumpers. Next up, we have our dearest Beau hitting teenhood! I’m gonna miss him as a kid.

[okaywowcool]

most popular fast fashion retailers (forever21, charlotte russe, etc) boasting a plus sized line only offer up to a US size 22/24. most clothing shops that offer above that carry only unfashionable tunics and mumus, which just plain...sucks. but there are still a handful of shops out there fighting the good fight, who believe fashion is for everyone!!!! 

i’ve collected as many of those shops that i could think of, including indie/handmade shops as well as larger retail stores that sell plus sized clothing here as a resource, featuring a clear breakdown of their general price range as well as the size range they carry! all of these stores listed at least go up to a size 30, but some have custom sizing where you can send in your exact measurements, and others have standard sizes up to US 44!

read on to see the full list, including trendy modern options as well as places to get good basics/staples. 

GOOD STAPLES/BASICS

Catherines

the styles at Catherine’s are pretty similar to something like Catos, so they tend to skew a bit older, but there are still many basics that can be found there to where i would suggest adding it into your rotation. they have lots of denim typically for those looking for jeans, as well as an athletic line! 

size range: 14 - 36

price range: $8 - $150 -- most staple pieces are around $30 - $70

Ulla Popken

some of ulla popken’s selection is not something i would normally promote, as the majority of it leans fairly old and has the tendancy to be very sack-shaped and tunic-y, something that i’m very against being constantly pushed on plus sized women. however, the denim section alone is so nice that it merits being on this list! they have really cute jeans, in sizes 12 - 38, and you can find a lot of cuts of pants that would normally be very difficult to find in larger sizes!

size range: 12 - 38

price range: $5 - $300+ (for formalwear)

Kiyonna

kiyonna is fairly expensive, but has a lot of really good formalwear options as well as pieces that would be perfect for office wear. the overall style of their clothing is elegant and classic. i’m a fan of their skirts and dresses, but the high amount of “flattering” tunic tops always sorts of bugs me with stores like this, especially at this high of a price point. kiyonna also has a few denim options in terms of jeans, but all of them are really nice looking and modern, so it’s a very good option for that as well, if you’re willing to shell out around $100 for a pair of jeans. 

size range: 12 - 44

price range: $36 - $258

Full Beauty

full beauty is more of a hub/retail type site that carries a lot of different brands, from melissa mcarthy to other places on this list, like kiyonna and ulla popken. some of the styles on this website are cute, but others have the similar “flattering” tunic issue that are not my favorite. all the above garments posted are from melissa mcarthy’s line. fair warning though--there are many garments on this website that only go up to XL. i got super excited seeing a line by mango called Violeta that i’d never seen before, assuming that on a site called “full beauty” they’d at least go up to 3XL, but nope! so i suggest filtering by sizes while searching around--it’s definitely a place you can get some good deals, if you’re willing to hunt. 

size range: 10 - 32

price range: $5.99 - $399

Avenue

avenue is a bit more modern looking than some of these other choices, but still very much focused on the whole traditionally “flattering” plus sized silhouette that focuses too much (in my opinion) on fit and flare and tunic shapes. avenue does have some really cute detailing on pieces like this though, like the two tops above--one featuring a strappy detail that is definitely trend-right currently, and the shoulder cut outs as well as the embroidery in the second top. it’s also a good source for jeans and denim, and has a lot of cute colors and prints that you might not see somewhere a bit more traditional like Catherine’s. 

size range: 14 - 32

price range: $5 - $70

TRENDIER OPTIONS

eShakti 

eShakti is a really unique site that offers customized fit clothing for extremely affordable prices–you give them your measurements and they will fit the garments specifically for you. there’s an ENORMOUS range of items, ranging from traditional workwear to more unique vintage-inspired dresses, as well as quite a few pieces that reflect today’s trends.

size range: XS - 6XL in standard sizes, PLUS custom sizing into infinity

price range: $30 - $100+ (also offers bridal options for around $500+)

society+

society+ is a huge favorite for plus sized bloggers pretty much everywhere, and i think it is for a really good reason. i love that they use plus sized women of all sizes and shapes on their site--the pictures feel real, and you can really tell fit and believe that fit when you’re scrolling through all their clothes. all of their skirts are gorgeous, and i really love the other pieces they’re adding to their in house line. definitely a place to keep an eye on! 

size range: 14 - 32

price range: $12.99 - $100+

Ashley Stewart 

Ashley Stewart is a plus size friendly brand who has recently opened up into offering extended sizes 28-36, which include a lot of really adorable pieces you’d have a hard time finding in plus sizes until fairly recently. they also have a lot more standard plus size faire--the sort of flowy tunic styles that i’m not a huuuge fan of, but you can find a lot of really cute unique things there too if you keep an eye out! 

size range: 12 - 36

price range: ~$20 - $100

SWAK Designs

SWAK designs is another blogger favorite, and great for basics that have a trendy twist to them. lots of solid colored items in modern cuts, with a huge size range and good quality for a great price. 

size range: 1X - 6X

price range: ~$20 - $100

Chubby Cartwheels

chubby cartwheels is one of MY personal favorites--somewhere i’ve been wanting to buy from as soon as i’m able to save up for like, serious years. they’re super affordable, but i’m always in love with their less practical pieces--short mini dresses, fully lace queenly gowns--so much cool shit. every time they release a new collection all the alt plus size bloggers and chubby goths i follow on social media go nuts, because it’s always such cool, unique stuff. 

size range: 14 - 32 

price range: $18 - $80

Joolz Fashion 

this mid-size etsy shop has made to order garments in all sorts of fun prints, and offers custom sizing on a LOT of it’s items. i still am a sucker for space print and similar things--they were so ubiquitous just a few years ago but finding them in plus sizes was HARD at the time, so it’s so nice to see a shop making those types of items now! definitely one to watch! 

size range: 6 - 32

price range: $50 - $195

Redress NYC

redress has A LOT of really awesome pieces, a lot of which that are frequently resold by places like modcloth because of their unique, trend-right designs. they have items that are extremely reasonably priced and really stand out from the majority of plus sized faire. i’m particularly in love with their bright collaboration with retrolicious. they also carry some vintage pieces, items from smaller indie brands like chubby cartwheels and similar, and butch styles!

size range: 1X - 5X

price range: $14 - $198

Trash Queen

my own shop, which is totally run by me, also carries extended sizes. all items are available at least to size 24/3XL, but many more are available in a size 5XL/32! trash queen carries a LOT of really unique prints in cute, on trend silhouettes (skater dresses! crop tops!) that are perfect for most alternative styles or anyone who likes bright, energetic fashion that is extremely affordable, (the most affordable on this list, in fact!!!) comfortable, and super unique. 

size range: XS - 5XL (0 - 30)

price range: $2.50 - $49 

Torrid

torrid is definitely a plus sized mainstay--lots of fairly high quality pieces at a pretty affordable price that are on-trend. torrid is great any time you need clothing for an event like a wedding, or if you need to dress business casual. i love torrid myself, and often stalk our local store for clearance items when they have BOGO clearance, as you can get slightly out of season dresses that are nice enough for work for like $8 - $20. 

size range: 10 - 30

price range: $6 - $118

Modcloth

modcloth has recently been adding a lot more pieces to their in house line, and all of them have been available in up to 4X, which is awesome. modcloth carries unique clothing that is really cute and quirky, typically with a vintage flair. similar to torrid, they offer a lot of great choices for events as well as business casual/office wear, which is often hard to find for plus sizes if you don’t want to go to tunic town or to wear anything super matronly. definitely recommend them! 

size range: XXS - 4XL (00 - 30)

price range: $5 - $325 (for wedding)

this list is to be updated periodically as i discover more shops or get more information on shops, and if you have somewhere you know that has extended plus sizes WITHOUT it being the stereotypical “u gotta cover yr body bc yr plus sized” tunic/potato sack faire then please send me an ask and i’ll add it to the list! >:3

[eveningdresseswithsleeves]

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