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euphoriaslux · 2 months

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a gloomy december morning

word count: 1196

warnings: suggestive sexual content, very slight jealousy, mentions of smoking and drinking. vincent being a dreamboat

a/n: i have never written before but i watched anatomy of a fall and knew what i had to do. i am so scared and think this is garbage but i hope u guys like it :))

vincent is fast asleep, a true rarity for your household. he’s naked, bar the thin linen blanket draped over his hips that his mother tossed in a bag when you two first moved into this home. you brush your fingers through his silver hair, shifting to give him a soft peck on his forehead. he shifts but ultimately stays in the same position.

smiling, you gently move your duvet off of your body, shivering at the lost warmth. you scan your shared bedroom, littered with strewn clothes, empty wine bottles and folders filled with documents and find a chair with an old tee shirt on it that hits just above your underwear.

you made a mental note to at least try to clean the house sometime soon, but you just couldn’t leave your vincent alone now that you finally had him for more than two hours at a time. after a year of only seeing him at night, or when you could visit his office during your lunch break, or over facetime in the early hours of the morning, something as simple as waking up with him felt sacred. you didn’t know how much of this you had.

you brace as you push the door close as quietly as possible, hissing as your feet hit the cold tile of the linoleum of your kitchen floor. it still smells vaguely of the cake you two shared last night, picking at pieces of tiramisu between gulps of white wine and sneaky kisses even though no one was watching. you grab some ground coffee and start to heat up your stovetop espresso maker, which you got at the insistence of your very stubborn husband.

“love, can’t we just get an instant coffee maker? it will be so much faster” you ask from behind your laptop, tucked into your velvet sofa as the december rain gently pattered onto your roof.

vincent chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer.

“you have not had a real cappuccino if it comes from a machine, chérie,” he says as he rummages through the kitchen drawers while swearing under his breath.

you rise from the couch with a soft sigh, shutting your laptop and placing it on the glass table in front of you and grabbing vincent’s lighter that’s pressed in between the couch cushions. his head whips around when he hears you click the lighter, and your cheeks widen as you walk over to him. vincent smiles back, his cigarette loosely hanging between his lips and his hair slightly disheveled from his search. he leans down ever so slightly, looking into your eyes as the flame lights the cigarette, taking a long drag before leaning against the kitchen counter.

“the coffee is more, how do you say bien équilibrée in english, darling?”

“well rounded,” you toss the lighter behind him, crossing your arms over your chest. he hums, nodding as he breathes out wafts of smoke.

“the coffee is more well-rounded,” the word sounds a little funny coming out of his mouth as if you could see his brain forming each letter in real-time. you can’t help but giggle, reaching behind him to open the kitchen window.

“i’m sure it is”

before you can fully stand up again his hand is on your lower back, softly bringing your body against his. he smells like tobacco and the slightly too minty toothpaste you buy from the convenience store down the road. he looks so beautiful in the dim winter light.

“tu me fais confiance, n'est-ce pas? (you trust me, don’t you?)” he asks, pressing his fingers into your side. he moves to hover just above your neck, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as he nibbles ever so gently on your neck, just below your ear. your eyes flutter closed and you feel the warmth pool in your lower stomach.

“vincent-”

“ you do, right?” he cuts you off as his hand wanders to the front of your body, playing with the waistband of your panties. his fingers ghost just above your cunt, and you sigh.

“of course, my love. always.”

you whine from the loss of contact as he steps away from you, taking a drag with a slight smile on his face.

“bon,” he says, his free hand caressing the side of your face.

“so we’ll go get our moka pot - not machine - tonight”.

you grin at the memory as you pour two shots of espresso into vincent’s favorite mug, along with a splash of whole milk, and turn on the burner to make another for yourself. you rock on your feet as you think of what to make for breakfast - maybe eggs? but vincent forgot to run to the farmers market, maybe jam on toast. there might be some leftover brioche-

you jump when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your chest smiling as you feel your husbands face nuzzle into your shoulder, pressing a few faint kisses on your skin while his hair tickles your neck.

“i thought you’d sleep for a few more hours honey,” you say, turning around to hand him his cup of coffee and laughing as his eyes brighten. he takes a sip, closing his eyes as he drinks.

“couldn’t sleep,” he says after a few moments, opening his eyes to stare into yours. his voice is deeper than normal, and you can tell he just woke up because there’s still a gravelly edge to it.

“i sleep poorly without you, honey.”

you raise your eyebrows as you let your fingers graze his chest and down his stomach.

“that’s a good one, do you tell all your girlfriends that?”

he rolls his eyes, taking a big sip before setting his mug on the counter.

“i’m being serious. i swear, every time it would get late and i’d try to sleep on sandra’s couch, i just couldn’t.”

your body goes rigid at the sound of her name but you try and ignore it, tracing circles onto his stomach. your mouth feels a little drier than it was a few minutes before.

vincent notices, of course he does. there’s nothing you could do that would get past him, the stellar lawyer.

“don’t be like that,” he whispers, cupping your hand in his face. you try to keep your gaze down but he tilts your head up.

you roll your eyes.

“every day while i was gone, all i wanted was to be home with you. you were all i could think about. you are all i ever think about.”

you feel lightheaded at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him deeply, sighing as your hand wanders down to the waistband of his boxers. you feel him smile into the kiss, putting out the cigarette so he has both hands free to touch you.

“take me to bed?”

you feel vincent’s stomach tense as your hand dips into his boxers. he gives you a soft kiss on the side of your face.

“how can i say no when you ask so nicely”.

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi fanfiction #swann arlaud #swann arlaud x reader #swann arlaud fanfiction #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d’une chute #anatomy of a fall fanfiction

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simdertalia · 3 months

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☕ ACNH Coffee Stuff Set ☕

Sims 4, base game compatible. 26 items. I hope you enjoy! This set is brought to you by the lovely patrons who voted 💗

I hope you enjoy! 💗

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Build:-Wall | 2 swatches | Tile & Paneling

Type “acnh coffee" into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): https://simfileshare.net/folder/214327/

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): https://mega.nz/folder/QpAV0bZS#am_IxERH1ShD4Go0r-7e3w

📁 Download On Patreon

Will be public on April 1st, 2024 💗

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my sets are early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me:

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet @public-ccfinds @freeexclusives4thesims

The rest of my CC

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xothatnerdykid · 8 days

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Aizawa x Reader Established Relationship Headcanons

(Cannot, for the life of me, get over my writer's block but I've still got Aizawa brainrot thanks to s7 so here.)

I might be in the minority here but I don't think Aizawa would smoke. He eats healthy and works out to keep his body in shape. Why would he compromise his health by smoking?

His only vices are chronic snacking (he loves those jelly pouch things) and caffeine.

He's usually up 'til dawn most days because duh, he works two jobs (hence the 5 shots of espresso in his coffee).

He is so sexy when he wakes up in the morning. Messy hair. Baggy shirt and boxers. Or sometimes a body hugging tank top and sweatpants. And his voice — his raspy, sleep-addled voice. The feeling of his stubble against the smooth planes of your face waking you up.

He doesn’t usually cook breakfast but he does always brew a fresh pot of coffee for you. And he never leaves without a kiss goodbye, even when you’re still snuggled up in bed, asleep.

But when you first start dating, Shouta talks to you pretty much the same way he talks to everyone else. So curt and succinct, you sometimes used to wonder if he was upset with you. He’d usually get confused as to what made you ask that, and then explained that he’s just a man of a few words, that’s all.

As your relationship becomes more established, you notice subtle shifts in the way he communicates. It's not a sudden change, but your conversations start to feel more like a secret code over time, filled with inside jokes that never fail to make him smirk.

Shouta’s love language is definitely acts of service. He’s a pragmatic, action-oriented person who values efficiency. So of course he’d think that actions speak louder than words when it comes to letting someone know your true feelings.

That’s why he loves it when he comes home to your cooking, especially when you surprise him with his favorite dish. Because after 16-hours or so of working two jobs, he often just passes out on the couch the moment he gets home and you’re not around.

He feels so bad when he comes home too late sometimes and finds you already asleep and his dinner sitting cold on the stovetop or in the fridge. He always makes sure to make it up to you by preparing breakfast the next day or…other…pleasing ways…

Seeing you take care of Sushi, the cat his very-well-and-alive friend Nemuri sometimes asks him to babysit, makes him feel all warm inside, too (although he doesn’t actually admit it, you just catch him smiling softly at you sometimes and quickly looking away when you notice).

As for how he expresses his love for you, it mostly comes in the form of acts of service, too, as well as gifts and physical touch.

Shouta’s romantic gestures are like rare collectibles. They often come as a surprise, but when they happen, you cherish them dearly. He'll surprise you with a thoughtful gift and leave it on your desk with a simple, "Saw this and thought of you."

He won't serenade you under the moonlight or anything, but he'll make you a warm cup of tea when you're tired, or wrap a scarf around you when it's cold.

You don't really have time to go out on dates most weeks, but when you do, you're either at a quiet restaurant or taking a walk through nature in the parks.

His favorite thing to do is sit with you by the window sill on rainy days and just have you snuggle up to him, bundled in his arms, while you read or do your own thing in comfortable silence.

Fighting with Shouta was like having a verbal sparring match. He was always strategic, although his patience wore thin sometimes, even with you. Still, he knew when to bring something up and when to back down.

He won't shy away from a disagreement, but he's not one to let it linger. He’ll tackle the issue head-on, find a compromise, and move on.

One of your favorite things about him was that he never held a grudge or took conflicts personally.

Shouta’s life is a constant juggle between being a pro hero, a UA teacher, a single dad, and being your boyfriend. But oh, does he master it.

At first you thought maybe he was just a really efficient and organized planner, but one look at him, his apartment, his phone, and his non-existent planner told you otherwise.

“How do you plan on getting all of this done?” You often ask him, to which he just shrugs.

“I don’t know, the usual? Coffee. Eye drops.” He sucks on his second jelly pouch of the day and goes back to his cluttered desk, papers strewn about like fallen leaves.

You perch yourself atop the edge of his desk and he pulls you closer by the waist. "Ready to call it a night?"

"Mhmm," he glances up at you, smiling a little. You scratch at the stubble on his chin.

You occasionally surprise him by finding him when he’s out on patrol and checking up on him. You love seeing him like this, in his element. He’s so kind to all the people he helps…

(A lot of the time, you end up making out against an alleyway or with him hanging upside down from a fire escape, but that’s neither here nor there.)

#i have no idea what this is #aizawa shouta headcanons #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x y/n #aizawa shouta x you #drop some fic ideas if you likeeeeeee i'm so brain dead rn

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thoughtportal · 5 months

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Stovetop Chocolate Cake

130 grams (1 cup) all-purpose flour 29 grams (⅓ cup) cocoa powder 1 teaspoon baking soda ¼ teaspoon table salt 198 grams (1 cup packed) light brown sugar 2 large eggs 1 teaspoon instant espresso powder 1/2 cup sour cream 6 tablespoons (¾ stick) salted butter, melted 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

01 Cut an 18-inch length of foil and gently scrunch together to form a snake about 1 inch thick. Shape into a circle and set on the bottom of a large Dutch oven. Add enough water to reach three-quarters up the coil. Mist the bottom and sides of a 9-inch round cake pan with cooking spray, line the bottom with a round of kitchen parchment, then coat the parchment. Place the prepared pan in the pot on top of the foil coil.

02 Sift the flour, cocoa powder and baking soda into a medium bowl, then whisk in the salt. In a large bowl, whisk the sugar and eggs until slightly lightened, about 30 seconds. Whisk in ½ cup water, the espresso powder, sour cream, butter and vanilla. Add the flour mixture and whisk gently until just combined.

03 Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Cover and heat on high until the water boils. Reduce to low and steam, covered, until the center of the cake is just firm to the touch, about 23 minutes.

04 Turn off the heat and remove the lid. Let stand until the cake pan is cool enough to handle. Transfer the pan to a wire rack, then run a paring knife around the edge of the cake to loosen. Let cool completely. Invert the cake directly onto the rack, lift off the pan and remove and discard the parchment. Re-invert onto a serving plate. {read}

#tiktok #recipes #recipe #tiktok recipes #177 milk street #cake #chocolate #chocolate cake #cake recipe #dessert recipe

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lostloveletters · 6 months

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Bruised Fruit Chapter 8 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: The sound of no longer distant wedding bells loom in the air as the reality of Gloria's new life with Michael closes in on her.

Note: Pre-Cana is a retreat or series of courses that couples getting married in the Catholic Church attend (it varies by parish or diocese). It’s basically pre-marriage counseling from a Catholic perspective. Also, the novel doesn’t specify which battle Michael was wounded in, just that Life magazine ran the article on him at some point in 1944 and he was discharged in early 1945 after Vito bribed a military doctor to say Michael was too badly wounded for him to return to combat. With this in mind, I’m going with Peleliu, which would make the most sense considering the vague canon timeline and its high wounded and casualty rates.

Warnings: Descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, mainly morning sickness.

Chapter 7 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

The moka pot on the stovetop hissed at Gloria while she was looking at the showtimes for Rio Bravo listed in that morning’s issue of Newsday. Grabbing a pen, she circled a few evening showings to present to Michael. If they got out of Pre-Cana early enough, they could catch a screening of it on the way to pick up the kids from her parents’ house.

Her elbow knocked against the espresso glasses she’d set out on the counter as she moved the moka pot off of the flame and onto a free burner. One of them nearly rolled onto the floor, but she managed to catch it just in time.

The espresso glasses were a brand new crystal set she’d bought at Lord & Taylor not long after they’d moved into the Long Beach house, making the drive upshore to Manhasset with Sandra. They were technically shot glasses, but the shop assistant in the housewares department enthusiastically assured her the glasses could withstand hotter temperatures. So far, they’d held up to the three or four small pots of espresso being made in the Corleone household each day.

Michael always drank some in the morning and then in the afternoons, usually an hour or two after lunch. Al took his with sambuca, as did Connie. Sandra drank hers black and piping hot, and Tom sometimes drank his cortado, though he didn’t drink espresso after 11am, claiming the caffeine would keep him up all night otherwise. Ciro drank his with lemon, and Dominic, Al’s protegee and another newer face around the house, would drink his straight, unless Al was around, and he’d add sambuca, too. Anthony had even started drinking espresso, acquiring a taste for it at her parents’ house and shocking her and Michael one morning when he asked for some.

Making espresso for everyone was one of the few ways Gloria was actually helpful in the kitchen, otherwise leaving the cooking to one of the Corleones or their maid, Margaret. The older woman had patiently taught Gloria how to cook Michael’s preferred breakfast of poached eggs and toast so she could make it when Margaret was off on the weekends.

Al Neri had let himself in, quietly, as he normally did, though his near silent arrival didn’t startle Gloria anymore.

“Morning, Al. Michael hasn’t come down yet. Espresso’s fresh, though. Help yourself.”

Al nodded. “Thanks, Gloria.”

“Have you eaten? I’m gonna make eggs when Michael comes down, and I think we have some leftovers from last night in the fridge.”

She’d already had a plate of cold ziti for breakfast herself.

Gloria couldn’t concentrate on cooking for long enough to get any good at it, finding each step of the process mind-numbingly boring and would get distracted if she felt like something was taking too long to chop or boil or whatever she was supposed to do with the ingredients. One of the benefits of working with the casino’s restaurant in Vegas was getting free meals from the kitchen, usually extra food or untouched meals the picky patrons had sent back. Except to make coffee or heat up leftovers from work, she rarely ventured into her kitchen when living on her own.

Espresso took only a few minutes to brew, though, and she could multitask while keeping an eye on the pot.

He shook his head. “I got a sandwich from that deli by my place on the way here.”

Al had bought a house in Lynbrook with the move, only a twenty minute drive from them, less if traffic wasn’t too bad. His place turned out to be about ten minutes from her parents’ house in Rosedale, which made Michael feel better about letting the kids spend the night there sometimes. Gloria liked Long Beach, though, especially since summer was rapidly approaching and some of the seasonal places were starting to open up.

“Do you go to the movies?” she asked, eyes flicking back to the showtimes in the paper on the counter.

“Not in a long time,” he said.

“I was thinking of asking Michael to take me.”

“Ask me to take you where?” Michael asked, walking into the kitchen and giving Gloria a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Al.”

“To the movies. We should go see Rio Bravo.”

“Isn’t that a Western? You don’t like Westerns.”

“I like Ricky Nelson,” she said. “We haven’t been to the movies since we saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last year.”

He conceded more easily than she expected. “Alright, darling. How about after Pre-Cana? We can get dinner and then go to the movies since your parents are watching the kids today.”

“Great! Oh, let me get your breakfast ready. Are you sure you’re not hungry, Al?” she asked.

He shook his head, opting for his espresso.

Michael poured himself some, and Gloria got to work on making his breakfast. The toast was easy enough, but she always felt like she could do a little better on the poached eggs. Though if Michael thought so, he never said anything to her.

Gloria wasn’t sure what to expect from Pre-Cana. Michael hadn’t taken it with Kay since they didn’t have a Catholic wedding, and the concept was brand new when Jackie and Vivian had gotten married. The church secretary at St. Catherine’s said it wasn’t exactly a requirement, but strongly encouraged, which meant that if they wanted to keep their late August wedding date, they better go.

As soon as she scooped the poached eggs from the boiling water, the scent hit her nose in an unfamiliar, nauseating way, and she clumsily dropped the egg on top of the slice of toast, gagging as she did so.

Michael and Al shared a perplexed look as Gloria ran past them into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

She could hardly look at the contents of the toilet, promptly flushing it. A knock at the door startled her, though she should have expected Michael to check on her when she made such a scene.

“Gloria? Are you alright?”

“Yeah I—just give me a minute.” She clumsily grabbed a bottle of mouthwash beneath the sink, filling her mouth with the burning mint taste and spitting it out into the sink. She washed her hands, accidentally splashing the mirror with water when Michael abruptly opened the bathroom door.

“What made you sick?” he asked, concern evident in his features as he took in the burst blood vessels in her face, leaving the skin splotchy and her usual eyebags even darker.

“Maybe someone left the milk out too long,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she dried her hands. “I put it in my coffee earlier, and it smelled a little weird.”

Michael was silent, staring at her for a moment before seemingly accepting her explanation. “Should I call the parish and ask them to reschedule our Pre-Cana?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sit outside. Get some air.” Because the mere thought of being in the room as those fucking eggs nearly made her gag again.

She knew Michael was watching her from the window as she made her way to one of the patio chairs next to the vegetable garden. It had been his late father’s hobby in his retirement. Everyone who lived there since had kept it up in one way or another, all friends of the family, Michael had told her. As the house had never gone to strangers, they tended to the garden in Vito’s honor. Tom’s wife Theresa usually busied herself with it. Gloria helped once in a while, though she could tell Theresa didn’t care much for her and only made polite conversation whenever she was around. Perhaps Gloria’s presence served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity with her own sister-in-law, unless Theresa really didn’t know, and disliked Gloria on the principle of her having been Michael’s mistress. Regardless, Gloria certainly wasn’t one to snitch on such a situation, and she had no qualms about keeping whatever secrets she needed to from whichever Corleone she needed to.

Gloria kept secrets from Michael even after he told her about Apollonia. Hers was about his other ex-wife, the one who he probably wished were dead. Instead, Kay was back in New England, just outside of Hartford, to be exact. Gloria had gotten the address from Connie, who’d been keeping in touch with her former sister-in-law. Using her parents’ house as the return address, Gloria had sent Kay the colorful crafts Anthony and Mary had made in school for Mother’s Day earlier that month.

Trying to hide an almost certain pregnancy from him was becoming a near impossible task. She looked at the tomatoes growing in their vines, green in the late spring and soon to be ripe and red in the coming weeks. Michael would be glad she was pregnant, she had no doubt about that. It was exactly what he wanted, and just what she dreaded.

She brought her fingers to her temples in an attempt to massage out the dull headache that emerged. The screen door opened, and she didn’t bother to see who’d come outside. Michael stood next to her, his shadow shielding her from the sunlight that exacerbated her headache.

He handed her a glass of water. “Your head must be killing you.”

Gloria downed the water, cool droplets spilling from the corners of her mouth but paying it to mind. She set the glass down, wiping her face with the back of her hand, acutely aware of the way Michael was staring at her, deep in thought as he took in the state of her again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I called the parish anyway, the secretary said there’s one we can go to next weekend. Think you’re up for a movie?” he asked.

She smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

“I checked the paper, we can go to the screening at two, get an early dinner, and then go to your parents’.”

“Alright, I’m gonna take a nap, then. Wake me by one if I’m not up?”

He nodded, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. “Get some rest, darling.”

The first thing Gloria did when she got to the master suite was brush her teeth, avoiding her reflection. How long would it be before she began losing teeth? She knew plenty of women who’d experienced that or hair loss or brittle bones, all a result of the baby leeching nutrients from its host.

When she got into bed, she buried her face in her pillow and screamed. So much had changed already, and the moment Michael caught wind she was pregnant, her life as she knew it would be his. There was no more hiding it, though, no possible way when there were eyes on her at all times. Every one of her soon-to-be in-laws were undyingly loyal to him in addition to the men he had at his disposal. Hell, he probably already knew.

Michael couldn’t have woken her up to go to the movies soon enough. Not that she figured she’s gotten any sleep anyway, too caught up in her thoughts to actually rest. But she needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Maybe it’d be easier to tell him if they were in public, and she had to keep her composure.

In the theater, she focused on the movie, tried to enjoy herself despite Ricky Nelson not singing nearly as much as she’d hoped and her not caring much for Westerns to begin with. Michael had taken the time to go with her, though, and was trying to salvage the day so it wasn’t totally lost. His devotion, his attention was overwhelming at times, especially when so much of it belonged to her.

“I still don’t like Westerns, but I like that song Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson did,” she said as they walked out of the movie theater.

Michael nodded. “Dean Martin’s always good.”

“Did you get a chance to see him when he did that show with Jerry Lewis at the casino? What was it, four years ago now? It was a riot.”

“I did. Kay and I went.”

Right. Gloria hadn’t been scheduled to work the three days Michael and Kay were there. She didn’t see him for nearly a month after that and figured their affair of nearly a year was over, surprised it had even gone on that long. No hard feelings, no love lost, fun while it lasted. Then he returned to Las Vegas on business, something Fredo had avoided telling her in what he perceived as an attempt to spare her feelings. She was friendly when she and Michael crossed paths in the casino’s lounge. Less than an hour after she was off the clock, they were up in that hotel room again.

Thinking about Las Vegas felt like watching a movie itself, as though it were someone else’s life entirely. She still longed for it from her invisible cage of domesticity and privately mourned for it as if it were the greatest love of her life. Maybe it was.

“Anywhere specific you wanna eat?” Michael asked.

Gloria cleared her throat. “Maybe we could try that restaurant up the street, the one with the seashell on the sign? I’ve never been, but Janine was saying it’s good.”

“Who’s Janine?”

“Michael, she lives two houses down from us.”

“The Avon lady?”

Among their neighbors, Gloria liked Janine the most. She didn’t mind Gloria hanging out at her house a few days a week and was pretty good company. Her house wasn’t pristinely tidy, and she’d sometimes get tipsy on sherry by 3pm and end up ordering Chinese takeout or making TV dinners for her family. Or maybe it had something to do with Gloria buying something every time a new Avon catalog came out.

Gloria laughed. “Yeah, her. Mary’s going to her daughter Diana’s birthday party next month. She and my mom already picked out a gift.”

“Alright, let’s try it.”

“She said they have good Salisbury steak.”

“Salisbury steak? You must be feeling better from this morning.”

“I’m starving, actually.”

The few handfuls of popcorn she had in the theater certainly wasn’t enough to make up for two missed meals. Her stomach rumbled as they neared the restaurant, the smell of its kitchen mixed with the nearby sea breeze oddly enough to smell delicious in the moment. It wasn’t crowded for four in the afternoon on a Saturday. They were seated in a booth by a window that had a decent view of the beach.

“I’ll have a club soda, and she’ll have a rum and coke,” Michael said to the waiter.

Gloria shook her head. “Just a Coke for me, actually.”

Michael’s eyes shot over to his fiance, Gloria avoiding his gaze and playing with the corner of the tablecloth. The waiter took the hint to leave the couple alone, mumbling about giving them more time to look over the menu.

By the time Gloria let out a shaky breath, she knew he’d put two and two together, probably had since that morning. It wasn’t any easier for her to say it. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

“My period’s a few weeks late.”

“You’re scared,” he observed softly.

“I’ve never done this before,” she half-joked.

He reached over the table, taking one of her hands firmly in his. “You and our son will want for nothing. The best doctors are a phone call away.” When he noticed this didn’t seem to assuage her nerves, he added, “I’ll be with you through all of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Then you have no reason to worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Monday morning I want you to make an appointment to be sure.”

“I sure feel like I can eat for two,” Gloria said.

Michael smiled. “Then go ahead and order for two.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, seeming to wait until the intense discussion was over. He gave them another few minutes to look at the menu, and suddenly, Gloria wanted to order everything. Even asking Michael what he was getting, a grilled pork chop with green beans, didn’t help narrow down her options.

Gloria’s Salisbury steak came with two sides, and she chose mashed potatoes and creamed spinach after some internal debate. Before the waiter could walk back to the kitchen, she ordered a plate of grilled scallops, too. One of the things she had missed about living in New York when she was in Vegas was the fresh seafood.

“What do you think of Ciro looking after you?” Michael asked as he cut into his grilled pork chop. “Just whenever you leave the house, to be safe.”

“I like Ciro,” she said. “He’s nice. Kept a close eye on us during the bachelorette party.”

“Good. I trust him,” he said. “How are the scallops?”

She nodded her approval, sliding the plate toward him while chewing a chunk of steak she’d shoved in her mouth. As far as she was concerned, Salisbury steak and hamburger steak were the same thing, but for some reason, it felt like the greatest meal she’d ever eaten. Some of it was relief from not trying to hide her pregnancy from Michael anymore, even though she dreaded the thought of what the following eight months would involve.

She glanced over at Michael. For all the rotten luck or poor decision-making in the world, he chose the one Sicilian girl without a maternal bone in her body. Then again, he always saw something in her no one else seemed to, and it even left her at a loss sometimes. For his sake, she hoped the baby was a boy, but personally had no preference and was already thinking of how often she could pass child-rearing responsibilities onto her mother. At least buying stuff for the kid and redecorating one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery would be fun.

“I should get decaf, shouldn’t I?” Gloria mused aloud when they finished their meals, ready to order coffee.

Michael nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“That stuff’s awful.”

“It’s only a few months.”

“God, and I won’t even be able to drink at the wedding,” she lamented.

“Don’t worry, most of our guests will drink more than enough for the both of us.”

“How crazy is it gonna be?”

“I’d be surprised if there were less than two hundred people there.”

“Jesus,” Gloria whispered. “Is that including family?”

“Yours and mine, and then some acquaintances and business associates as well. I figured since we’re having the reception at the house, it wouldn’t hurt to invite the neighbors.”

“Really?”

“Like you said when we first moved in, they’ll notice if we’re antisocial. Just remember to keep them at arms’ length.”

The drive from the restaurant to her parents’ house felt oddly long for a weekend, but it gave her a chance to actually think about the wedding for the first time in a while. Connie and Sandra had taken on most of the wedding planning duties of their own volition, with Gloria in charge of picking out her dress, the cake, and a band to play at the reception. The latter was a task she took seriously, wanting to find a group that could play music to her tastes and also to that of the plethora of old school Sicilians who’d expect to hear a tarantella or two at some point during the celebration.

Gloria was relieved to see Vivian’s car in her parents’ driveway when Michael pulled up. Having Jackie and Vivian around always lowered the tension between her parents and Michael. Vivian liked him well enough, even though they’d butt heads at times. Jackie and Michael carried on friendly conversations on their own. Gloria wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Jackie disliked her fiance the way their father did.

“Hey Mike,” Jackie said, shaking Michael’s hand when they walked inside.

Michael smiled. “Good to see you, Jackie.”

“Hi Michael,” Jack said. “The kids are upstairs painting with Julia.”

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” Michael said. “The kids love that craft room.”

Jack smiled. “Good, we’re glad to have them over any time.”

Michael disappeared upstairs, and Gloria followed her family into the living room, declining Vivian’s offer for coffee. Might as well try to be responsible, though if she’d known the shot of espresso she drank earlier that morning would be her last for the better part of a year, she would have savored it more. Or at least tried harder not to throw it up.

“How was Pre-Cana?” Jack asked.

“I got sick this morning, so we’re gonna go next weekend.”

“Again?” Julia asked as she made her way downstairs.

“It was some spoiled milk. I’m fine. We’re going next weekend, wedding’s still on, nothing to be concerned about,” Gloria said.

“We just got the invitation in the mail. You can mark us as a definite yes,” Vivian said. “How many people are going to be there?”

“The guest list was a little over two hundred fifty people long, last I heard.”

“Two hundred fifty,” Julia repeated. “Jack, did you hear that? I don’t think we had more than thirty at ours, both our families combined.”

“That’s because theirs isn’t gonna be all family,” Jack said. “Your fiance’s business associates, I’m sure.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Vivian scolded, trying to keep the heat off Gloria.

“Oh, Gloria, that’s shameful if he uses your wedding day as a front for all of that,” Julia objected.

Jack scoffed. “What else is it for? A cover for all of those people slinking about for their debts and favors. Just watch, you’ll be surprised at who shows up for his generosity .”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gloria said. “That’s not what it’s going to be like at all.”

She actually didn’t know what the hell the wedding was going to be like, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Michael’s work did keep him away for some of the reception. Because there were things pertinent to running an olive oil importing company that required him to step away from family events for hours at a time. Even if he spent the day glued to her side, she was sure her parents would find something to pick apart.

Frustrated, she headed outside and couldn’t light a cigarette fast enough. Jackie followed her, though he kept his distance, standing closer to the back door than she was.

“Hey,” Jackie said. “Everything alright?”

“Just mom and dad being jerks about Michael and the wedding.”

“They’ll come around. He’s not a bad guy.”

“You really like him?”

“I don’t know what he does for a living, and I don’t really care. All I know is, this guy got transferred to my company after he got wounded on Peleliu. That article came out just before Christmas in ‘44. We got the magazines with these shitty rock-hard cookies that had nuts in them. But he said Michael was a good captain, saved his life. Some guys said it was a real shame he got discharged before Okinawa. They really admired him.”

Gloria took a long drag from her cigarette, letting out a shaky exhale. In nearly fifteen years, that was the most Jackie had said to her about his time overseas. All she knew was that he was with the First Marines and didn’t write many letters home, but when he did, it seemed like he was always on a different island and had less and less to say. After he returned to New York, he’d answer her questions with one-word responses or pretend he didn’t hear her at all.

She learned not to take his avoidance of the topic personally, though it took a while. The only person who knew the most about what Jackie experienced, besides the men he fought with–few of whom he kept in touch with over the years–was Vivian. In that case, Gloria didn’t pry, not wanting to pressure her sister-in-law to betray her brother’s confidence.

“Why is this the first time you’re telling me about it?”

“It wasn’t exactly a fucking vacation, Gloria.”

“I know that. Michael’s told me enough about it to have a clue. That’s why I talked to him in the first place five years ago, and that’s how I ended up back here. Because I wanted to understand what happened to you, but you shut me out.”

“What was I supposed to say to you back then? You were a thirteen-year-old kid!”

“I don’t know! Just…something. I missed you so much, Jackie, and it was like you left and never came back.”

“I didn’t. That’s what you have to understand, Gloria. Alright? Michael–he got fucking shot and came out of it better than most guys I know. Whatever the hell he does, he’s good at it. It’s like he can put his emotions in a box and leave them there. That’s why he’s good for you.”

“Compartmentalize.”

“What?”

“The emotions in a box thing. He compartmentalizes.”

“There you go.”

Gloria stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. “I’m glad you like him. I don’t think mom and dad ever will, though.”

“All that mob stuff’s true, huh?”

“He doesn’t tell me a lot, but probably.”

“I bet the cops are gonna be all over the wedding.”

“Oh, I can just see dad telling them all the details now.”

Jackie snickered. “It’ll be fine.”

“With two hundred fifty people there? Fat chance.”

#michael corleone x oc #michael corleone x ofc #the godfather #michael corleone #the godfather x oc #the godfather fanfic #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather part ii #bruised fruit fic

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soldier-poet-king · 4 months

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Coworker nemesis unlocked?

(Same guy who was so weird about asking which name I prefer and then expressing disappointment when he didn't like my answer.)

He's So Very European and we were in the kitchen at the same time and I tried to make friendly convo abt his stovetop espresso machine (I was making pour over coffee, neither of us can stomach the regular office coffee). He waves when walking by my office and I am trying!!!! To be friendly! In a new place!!

And I get a whole lecture. On why it's a ~mocha pot~ and not an espresso pot, bc if it's stovetop is mocha and espresso is the other kind. I'm. A LECTURE. Because 'oh my Italian professor said xyz'.

THIS IS A GROWN ADULT MAN. Not Italian! Not descended from Italians! Just decided he wanted to lecture me, who he's had a whole convo about me growing up italian-canadian, on it!!! I'm sorry my peasant ass immigrant grandparents called it espresso. I'm sorry literally EVERY FUCKING italian-canadian I know calls it espresso. SIR????

This is what I get for trying to be friendly. This is like the time I ordered a Siciliana pizza and pronounced it the proper way and the grown ass waiter decided he had to correct my pronounciation... by telling me to say it the mangiacake way.

Ppl see a young(ish) feminine(ish) looking person and go. I must condescendingly lecture to her.

#the duality of fran #i have white hairs and eyebags and im dressed like an office dyke today #HELLO???#hello?????????#not that femme woman deserve this either ofc #going to go eat the angriest salad of my life for lunch

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cerinicoffees-blog · 6 months

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aelinschild · 9 months

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FOUR

Holding Me Like Water In Your Hands

Main Masterlist | HMLWIYH Masterlist

teheheh

SYNOPSIS:A cross continental move forces Aelin Galathynius to open her eyes wider than before, and at the doors of Terrasen's most exclusive and expensive private high school, she realizes her life is flowing through her. And if she wants to make the most of her life, she needs to grab onto something. Or maybe someone. WORDCOUNT: 2k GENERAL WARNINGS: Language, Drug use, Alcohol, Allusion to sex/intimacy, Brief descriptions of sexual assault, Domestic violence, Very severe angst, Messy Divorces (More to be added)

The rest of the weekend had come and gone. Mostly filled with Mom and I smoothing over the cracks in our new lifestyle. Additional furniture and appliances were acquired. A brilliant, albeit expensive, coffee machine was the best feature of our home now. It made incredible espresso, which had been fueling my moping.

Tonight, Evalin decided we would come together and cook a meal. We decided on grilled salmon with patotoes and asparagus. Simple enough, while also fitting whatever diet my mother had recently taken up.

I was currently plating our meal as she grabbed the salmon off the pan.

Soft footsteps made their way into the dining room, and my mother followed, setting the plate in the centre of the table.

We both pulled out chairs out and sat. Her posture was straight and rigid. Always the perfectionist.

I sat with one leg dangling, the other curled up into me. A posture my father absolutely loathed.

"Well, I'd say we are quite the chefs." My mother remarked, piling delicate amounts of food onto her plate.

"Not bad," I laugh. "For us. Better than yesterday for sure," I say, following her and scooping a helping of each into my own plate.

Yesterday we had burnt the chicken thighs we had bought, then promptly ordered a gluten free, veggie filled pizza.

"I'm not used to a gas stovetop. But, that simply means a new skill, hm?" She says, between bites of food. Never speaking with her mouth open.

"Sure, Mom."

She regards me, and then her gaze flits back to her plate. I continue eating. The only noise in the room is that of our breathing and the scrapes of our cutlery on the new plates.

Dinners together in my family were rare. With Mom and Dad both spending evenings working overtime, I ate alone almost every night. It made me into quite the skilled chef, but left me feeling empty. Dinners alone, in our big kitchen, only accompanied by the noises of the outside world. I would often sit at the island in our luxurious marble kitchen, perched as I am now, and pretend my parents were there, engaging with me.

Some evenings Phillipa was there, and would keep me company, but as the sole gaurdians to Dorian, and his younger brother Hollin, those evenings were few and far between. She worked as an in house maid, and mostly cleaned during the day when the boys would be at school. Sometimes cooking and leaving me meals with cute sticky notes attached.

Those days were far behind.

My mother's fork scraped her plate. "So," she started. "You start highschool tomorrow, how do you feel?"

Awful. I have no friends. "Fine" I say.

"You have a cousin here," and her face is a little pale as she says it. Her eyes scan my own. Searching for whatever feeling she assumes will follow.

I just scoff.

The nonchalant way she tosses that out chafes against me. My image of my family has always been just my parents and I. The idea of a cousin on top of the move, on top of Mom and Dad’s issues. Its as if the tide is rising, and I have no sense of direction, no way to swim up because I no longer know where that is.

Tossing down my cutlery, I shift to move my other knee up so I can wrap my arms around my body, creating a safe little shell.

"And how old is this cousin?" My eyes stare directly into her, not backing down.

"Your age. Maybe a few months older."

"Why am I just now learning about their existence?"

She looks pained. I feel like that's an expression I've seen so often on her face recently. So different from the Evalin Galathynius that imposed through the courts of Rifthold.

She moves closer to the table so she can drop her head into her hands. She just shakes her head, and I sit across from her wondering how the fuck we ended up in this situation.

As an only child, I've never wished for any other siblings. Seeing how Hollin and Dorian interacted made me glad of that. But a cousin? A possibility of an aunt or uncle? There being more to my family than just Rhoe, Evalin and Aelin? That's what seems nonsensical.

"Your father and I left Orynth not long after your birth for our own reasons, and yes, that separated you and Aedion," she takes a deep breath. "But it was not without extreme thought, and we realized it would be better… this way."

"Better for me? Or better for Dads job?" I bite out.

"For everyone Aelin,"

"Mmkay "

"What do you think about this? About Aedion?" She probes.

"Never met him. How would I know."

"He's attending Orynth Rise. You'll probably see him there."

"And what do I do? Walk up to some mysterious stranger and say, "Oh hi there! I'm your cousin you've probably never heard of or even know!""

"He knows about you." She smiles sheepily.

I just stare at her.

A cousin. That apparently knows about meet, whom I've never met, or heard about.

"Is this why we moved to Orynth?" I ask quietly.

"A part of it," she nods then continues to eat.

I want to pull my hair out.

"For fucks sake mom! Give me a straight answer!" I bark out, no longer composed.

Her face snaps up, and her mouth is open in a shocked expression. "Aelin Galathynius! Do not curse at me! Good Gods!"

I roll my eyes, and drop my legs back down to the floor. Pushing out of my chair, my meal only halfway eaten, I grab my plate and storm off to the kitchen.

Maybe I'm overreacting, but after moving across the continent, and not really adjusting to the fact that my entire life is now somehow different, plus the fact I have extended family, is really overdoing it for me currently.

I scrape the food left on my plate into the little compost bin, and move to put my plate in the sink. I can hear my mother stomping over to the kitchen.

"Aelin!" She yells.

I ignore her.

She moves towards me and grabs the plate from my hands. And I stare up at her, forcing calm.

"Why are you acting this way!" She yells, looking far angrier than she was moments ago. "Look, love, I understand this is a big change, but you've been moping and overreacting to everything!" She's put the plate down and her arms come to rest on my shoulders, I shake her off.

Her face falls.

"Aelin," her voice is soft, like trying to tame a wild animal. And I guess I'm the wild animal right now, dramatically scurrying away from anything that scares me.

I'm trapped here, between Mom and the door from the kitchen, and paralyzed by the change in my life, far too swift for anyone to keep afloat in.

I clench my jaw and shove my fear and anger and confusion down, down as far as it can go.

Through clenched teeth, I bite out, "I don't know how you want me to react." Surprising myself with how calmly in responding, I continue. "I don't understand why we're in Orynth. I don't understand why we had to leave Rifthold. I don't understand why Dad's not here with us. I don't understand this place. And I don't understand why you think I'm okay with all of this." I finish. Taking a deep breath, I school the emotion off my face.

Mom blinks.

I stand still, breathing slightly uneven.

"Aelin…" she trails off, eyes moving to the ceiling.

"We're going in circles Mom, around and around over the same thing." I clench my fists at my side and take a deep breath. "Just be fucking honest for once."

Her eyes snap right back to me the moment I say 'fucking' and I can see her about to snap at me again, but stops when she sees the expression on my face.

"Your Dad and I have been having issues. I felt as thought it was not fair for you to be in a house where your parents were always fighting." She responds. Her eyes move quickly over my face, and she stands straighter.

I suppose I should take this as some sort of win. Getting Evalin to admit to any of her faults, especially in the realm of her shitty husband, is a hard won feat. But the admittance is something hard to swallow as well.

Having loving parents is nothing I grew up around, and the only friend I truly grew close to in my childhood was Dorian, and his parents both died early in his life, not long after his brother was born. But Phillipa was the most adoring parent one could truly ask for. Though she was never around long enough to be a mother figure.

But to actually hear your parent admit a struggle - that makes me feel a way I can't describe.

"Okay." I say.

Evalin just nods. Her arms come up around herself, and her eyes get misty.

"Aelin, I want the best for you. And being in that house wasn't the best for any of us," She whispers.

"Okay " I say again, processing.

"Can… can I hug you?"

I feel funny, and I don't really want to hug Mom right now, but she looks seconds away from crumbling into jagged pieces that will never fit back together. So I nod and pull her into a light hug.

She holds onto me for dear life, and I hear a sniffle, before she's pulling away and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry,"

"It's okay," I repeat, like a broken record.

"I'm gonna clear up dinner, and you can, uh, go get r-ready for school tomorrow." She squeezes her eyes shut as a few more tears fall.

And I don't know how to handle this situation, so I just walk away.

In my room later that night, I'm sitting at the bay window going over the catastrophe that was dinner this evening. I've washed my face, and I'm in a silk nightgown. My fingers skim the hemline, and my thoughts race.

Mom admitted she and Dad were having problems, so the lipstick on Dad's collar probably wasn't hers. Still unconfirmed, but I'm certainly closer to that truth.

But a move across the continent because they were having issues? Completely uprooting me and my future education, in favour of Orynths shiny promises?

They must have really been fighting this time.

I've recieved no messages from my Dad in the few days we've been here, and I wonder if he's forgotten his wife and offspring.

The street outside my window is quiet. The boys down the street aren't out. And the wind flows gently, winding through avenues, luring the inhabitants to sleep.

Tomorrow marks my first day in highschool. Freshman year. In a completely different country. Oh, and with a cousin! I can't help but smile a little at that. How shocking that Rhoe and Evalin keep my cousin from me.

I can't help but wonder what he's like. I never knew that my parents had siblings, so what he might look like is a mystery. My fathers light complexion and dark hair, or my mothers darker complexion and gold-spun hair. I imagine a boy similar to me. It seems more reasonable that Evalin would have siblings rather than Rhoe. He was never much of the family type.

I wonder what he’s interested in. I wonder about his life here. I wonder about this new extension of my family and what I've missed not knowing they existed. I wonder about my aunt and uncle. Maybe theres more?

I guess Ill find out tomorrow.

My backpack is packed, filled with a few notebooks and journals. Pencils and pens. My laptop and other school necessities.

I'm not overly excited to start school again, nonetheless in Orynth, where most of these kids probably have known each other since early childhood.

A light rain starts, it's soothing noise lulls me to sleep at the window. And I dream of unconditional love.

#rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin x rowan #aelin galythinius #high school #celaena sardothien #heir of fire #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #tog #aelin fireheart #HMLWIYH

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