#then i added some dark chocolate shavings

[nova-rogue]

i made the 3 ingredient chocolate mousse....

[noroi1000]

In a few years 3

@mc-reborn there is your request!

Words: 1,8k

Warnings: Spicy content (Gojo's virgin ass is little perverted), alcohol

Summary: Shoko and You prepared a party for Gojo when he has a birthday. A lot was going to happen that day.

"Satoru! Happy birthday!"

He turned to see you in the dorm hallway.

He smiled slightly and saw you walk over to him, suddenly hugging him.

He blushed slightly at your touch, and hugged you too.

"Thanks."

"We have plans today. Don't forget to come to my room tonight." You said running your hand through his hair.

"Okay. I'll come." He said with a smile as he pulled away but kept his hands on your shoulders.

He was happy to hear that!

You planned something for him!

He was supposed to come to your room in a few hours!

The only thing he remembers from his trip to the future is that you will definitely be his girlfriend.

And he remembered nothing else.

Because when you go to the future, you only remember one thing. Namely, what someone sincerely wants.

That's why this item was locked up and unused. Because it did not ensure that someone who returned could tell what happened in the future.

But well, Gojo always knew you'd be his girlfriend one day. He just wanted it, and he knew it would be because he would try.

And if you have a surprise for him, he can tell you his feelings the moment you meet in your room.

He ran to his room and grabbed his things.

He quickly went to the bathroom after training and made sure he didn't smell like sweat.

When he was done, he combed his hair and took the shaver. Covering his face in shaving foam, he began to shave his face (even if he had done it before) to make sure there is no hair on his face.

Even if his hair is naturally white and a little inconspicuous, it's still there. And he's 18 today, so it's normal for him to grow facial hair.

And he doesn't want something scratching your face with a possible kiss.

After a long bath, he came out of the bathroom and put on his white shirt and black pants. Putting his hair more to the side, he checked the time.

He still had time.

So he accidentally fell asleep while he waited.

And he woke up a few hours later as the sun was slowly setting.

He quickly got up wiping his face and grabbed the chocolates he bought for you, running to your room.

Calming his breath a moment later he knocked on the door, hiding the candy for you behind his back.

When You opened the door for him he was even more than happy. But when he went inside, everything fell apart. What he planned and wanted. Everything fell apart!

Because he saw everyone inside sitting around with a bottle inside that was meant to be played.

"Why do you look like this??" Geto asked, looking at his best friend whose hair is combed.

"I combed my hair after showering and it sorted itself out." He said placing his hand on his head, ruffling the white strands.

"You looked so nice..." you muttered as you closed the door behind him. "Shoko arranged it for us, so we'll play spin the bottle by drawing games."

"Strange games." The girl added with a confident smile.

And that smile meant only one thing... that these games would be funny and a little embarrassing.

"What do you need chocolate for?" The dark haired man asked.

"You know, I took it to eat it." He said and sat next to Geto on the Floor, placing a box of chocolates in front of them.

"It's my favorite." You muttered with a twinkle in your eye.

Haibara opened the box and you all saw that it was heart shaped.

"Hearts?" muttered Ieiri with a smile, staring at you and Gojo.

"Does it matter? Chocolate is chocolate." he said rolling his eyes. Pretending he doesn't know anything about their shape.

"We've got our snacks." Shoko pointed to the bags of food.

Packages of chips, crisps, gummies, cookies, other snacks were pulled out. And also bottles of drinks. And some cans of beer.

Shoko will arrange everything for such a party. Especially since it's an occasion for her to drink something.

Everyone got first one, then another can of beer, then another.

Even if someone couldn't like it, you drank slowly anyway, washing it down with sugary drinks or biting into food.

While you were playing games and joking around.

Until finally one of you drew a game involving balloons.

And luckily everyone was drunk enough to do it, because it wouldn't be fun.

When Shoko said she wasn't playing because she wasn't going to touch them, you understood that it was going to be a really awkward and weird game. But funny. You just have to touch...

The bottle pointed to Nanami first, so he stood, followed by Haibara.

The balloon inflated by Geto was placed over Nanami's butt, and Haibara was supposed to press against the blonde so much that the balloon burst.

After a moment of effort and laughter, he managed to squeeze the thing until it broke.

Geto was next, so very quickly the balloon exploded on Haibara's back.

You were supposed to squeeze the balloon on Geto, and you had a big problem because because he was so tall you couldn't hit the balloon properly with your body. Everyone laughed as you wrapped your arms around his waist and jumped to pop the balloon.

"I can't do it!" you laughed as the balloon popped off. "Don't give me a balloon of steel!"

"Give it to me!” Gojo shouted, grabbing the balloon he came up behind you and placed the thing on the bottom of your back. “Now watch how it's done. And then I'll help you do it with Suguru."

He grabbed your waist, and pushed his body forward once, hitting the balloon and it burst immediately.

And then your bodies came together. Your back on his belly. You blushed with a smile, as did he.

"Now help her with that balloon!" Shoko said, tossing the balloon.

Geto stopped in front of you and the Balloon was placed on your belly. Behind you Gojo who pushed your body by his, and finally you heard the bang of the balloon.

At the same time, the slightly drunk white-haired man tried to pick you up together with Geto, which unfortunately ended in failure because he couldn't lift his friend with one hand at all, while your feet stopped touching the floor when the piece lifted you.

He knocked you over so everyone was on the floor laughing. It was hot. You just felt it.

From laughter, from alcohol, as well as from the atmosphere that was created when it turned out that after the fall you were sitting between Satoru's spread legs.

You were tempted to do something.

And you did.

Because Satoru's lips always seemed soft.

You pressed your lips to his, pressing you closer to him. Putting her hands on his shoulders.

You heard whistling from drunk Shoko on the floor.

When he recovered from the shock, he returned the kiss, opening his mouth slightly.

You blushed and pulled away from him, keeping your fingers to your lips.

At the same time, he pulled you into a kiss again.

"I love you." he said into your mouth.

Your face turned completely red.

You pushed away from him and gracefully left the room, walking fast.

Leaving everyone in shock.

And his with the cold feeling of regret and guilt that you ran away.

Because he couldn't remember the words of his older self from the future.

He didn't remember that he wasn't to worry if you ran away when he confessed his feelings to you. Because you will come back to him anyway.

The party is over.

At night, he went to your room, and without knocking, he came inside.

"(y/n), I'm sorry... I shouldn't..." he said with a slight blush as you sat on the bed.

"Shh. Satoru shut up." You said as you walked over to him. "Why do you always talk a lot?"

"I–."

To silence him, you put your mouth over his, pulling him down by his neck.

"I love you too..." you whispered softly, blushing and hiding in his chest.

"Come over later when the others have gone to bed, okay?" you asked as he left smiling.

He came as your friend who wanted to apologize. And he came out as your boyfriend. The one you've known for years, and the one you fell in love with.

By the time he got back to you, it was already dark.

He was in shorts and a loose t-shirt. So you must have been in pajamas too. Maybe you two will sleep together?  To wake up in your arms in the morning... It would be great for him...

He opened the door without knocking, just like before.

And looked inside, seeing your bedside lamp turned on.

His eyes widened as he saw you standing next to the bed, your back to him, undressing.

He knew it wasn't right and he shouldn't have watched you do it while you changed.

But he couldn't look away.

It was a beautiful sight.

His virgin ass couldn't stop thinking about your body.

As you took your bra off, leaving you in your panties, he felt the front of his pants tighten.

The door creaked open and he turned to see him staring at you with his eyes wide open, devouring every inch of your body with his eyes.

"Satoru!" you screamed, covering yourself as much as you could.

And your scream made him panic, causing him to leave quickly, slamming the door.

He leaned against the wall next to him, his face red as he stared at the jutting bulge in his shorts.

When he heard the door open, he turned sideways to you so you wouldn't see anything between his legs.

"Satoru, you could have just knocked." You said to him as you stood by. "You shouldn't come in right away...I..."

"Sorry. I didn't think. And you're beautiful..." he murmured.

Even though he's always so brave, even while you're close, now he's helpless. His real virgin's self has come to light, because he is unable not to blush and do such a thing without shame.

Even though he will later be a walking pervert who would do anything with you.

"Satoru..." you said softly.

"Don't come over, I..." he groans as they turn their backs on you.

You hugged his back.

Every time you hugged him, everything was normal. And the face? Now all he could think about was your soft breasts pressing against his back.

"If you want something, just tell me. After all, we're a couple now. And I've known you for years... So you can speak boldly..."

He turned to you and you tried to ignore his shorts. With flushed cheeks, you dragged him to your room so no one would see you in this awkward situation.

[roamingtigress]

Desire

Hosea and Dutch, who have been inseparable for over thirty years, are now old men. Though their love has remained the same, their bodies have changed over the years, changes that have left them feeling a bit self-conscious and vulnerable.

One Valentine's Day though changes their perspective, and they both learn to embrace the beauty of aging. (It's safe for work just a bit lengthy! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Even if you just want to call me a nerd.)

It's Valentine's Day, a day we forego going on trade runs and bounty hunts, to make it a day just for ourselves and, well, what one often does on Valentine's Day.

Our Valentine's Days are also never without the theme of trying to outdo each other. If Dutch gets me orchids and chocolates that are just the right size to hand-feed to me, I'll set up a bathtub littered with rose petals with classic music being played in the background. You can call us sappy if you'd like; we've been called worse.

"This will be the year I will outdo you, Hosea!"

I roll my eyes inwardly, scoffing. Truth be told, there is, of course, no real winner in this competition; we both benefit when we try to out-spoil each other. Eventually, we both end up being naked at some point in the day, sometimes throughout the whole day. If you can guess it was Dutch who started it all, you'd be right. He wanted to make our Valentine's Day more romantic than anyone else's and wanted to see how far we'd take it. It's one of the plans he has put together that hasn't turned into a disaster, for the most part. There was that one disastrous breakfast in bed which he burned, but he meant well.

I roll aside and sit up in bed, playfully tapping him on his nose. "Game on, Dutch, game on."

Dutch just giggles, the winter sun reflecting beautifully on his features. They also expose the scars he's gained over the years from misadventures, some of which he exaggerates; the one on his chin was from when he dared to shave himself in the dark. Mistake. I've seen his hair in better shape; the messiness of it adds to his decidedly playful demeanor this morning. He pokes my nose back.

"It'll be hard to beat last year."

Yes, last year. We stowed away on a classy passenger ship, that lovely Grand Korrigan. I had intentions to buy tickets but they were sold out, so we did what we did, with the added thrill of the idea of being caught being a stowaway. We managed to stay off the radar, up until . . .

"We emptied everyone's wallets in poker, and we ran out on the deck . . ."

As Dutch chuckles, there is as much laughter in his eyes as there is in his voice. "We had that mob of stuffed shirts chase us back inside, down the hall towards our room --"

"And I was so turned on by the way you handled the table, that you had to relieve me. I couldn't make it to the room and well, it was getting awkward trying to run with an erection." I let my finger drag along the side of his cheek as I lay back down beside him.

"Stroking me off in the hallway, while we kissed . . ."

Dutch's eyes take on a mischievous glint. "And we got caught."

"We did!"

The fellows we played with weren't so disgusted at us for doing what we were doing (I suspected a few were queer; one just gets a vibe from another) but rather that we parted with their money and they finally caught the miscreants who robbed them. There was that one comment about 'I knew you two were's queer before you two even sat at the table together.' I threw them an empty wallet that I had often carried around with me to throw off someone's game (fancy wording for scamming) and dragged Dutch down the hallway and into our room.

I lean over, kiss him softly on his lips, and slowly pull away just to make soft eye contact. Perhaps it wasn't a traditionally, conventionally romantic moment; there was the thrill of being caught and sure enough, it happened. For us, it was thrillingly romantic; our hearts pounded when we heard those footsteps rushing towards us and before we could pull away (not that we wanted to), they caught it.

"Oh, it was so much fun."

Dutch's hand softly cups the side of my face, as he looks into my eyes. "Unbelievably so."

Dutch later got a fancy bath prepared for us, complete with champagne and rose petals. Securing that arrangement was interesting. I stole a man's identity when we were playing poker, and the fellow who was smooth-talked into arranging the bath assumed the fancy lady who accompanied the stolen man's identity was going to join Dutch; ironically some raven-haired dutchess from Europe. It would come as no surprise if I told you we made love in that tub; not merely sex, but making love. When Dutch puts his weird little mind to it, he is something. We both deserved a little reward for that collaboration.

"Got any plans, Dutch?" I had to ask.

Dutch looks like he's in thought as if he hadn't planned for weeks. I know better and he knows that I know better. "I might have a few . . ." He muses. "But they're for me to know and for you to find out!"

"You little shit!"

My husband, finding amusement at my expense once more, I have a way of bringing it out in him. He pulls me up on top of him as if I were a blanket, in such a position that I would be facing him; I can't complain. His body is so warm that it felt like I was pulled up over a hot water bottle.

"I thought I'd surprise you, 'sea."

I couldn't help but notice that when he pulled me up on top of him, his pyjamas (surprisingly with mangos and books and cigars printed on them) had shifted in such a way that revealed a nipple; it stared up at me. What a tease.

"With a nipple reveal, Dutch? What a slut."

I lean in and kiss it, I just had to. He squeaks.

"T-they might make an appearance."

I smile a mischievous smile. "Well, I would hope so. It's Valentine's Day! So what if Hosea Fucks Friday was the other day. If we don't take our clothes off at some point of the day, then it's just another day."

I close my eyes as I feel a big hand slip underneath my pyjama shirt, finding its way to my back. He rubs in a smooth massage, his fingers gracefully working their magic. "Patience, Mr. Matthews. I have a plan!"

Of course he does.

If that plan involves him massaging me all day, I'll take it. I arch my back, encouraging him. Sure enough, he gets the hint and works in a firmer caress and I let out a long sigh; the combination of the warm body against mine, his touch, his heart and my heart beating against each other.

"You're off to a good start . . . " I murmur, my eyes closing.

Dutch of course, almost; in that childish sort of way he does over every little thing he does that goes without a hitch. "Had to start somewhere." There's a spark to his eyes. "You know how it goes with us, once one touches another . . ."

"Of course . . . " I murmur, framing his jaw in my hands. "Both of us are just so . . . Easy."

I study his face for a long time, taking in the contours of his cheekbones and how the light played on them. There are scars scattered across his cheek and chin; the one you might see most noticeably is from a shaving challenge if you will. He thought he could shave just as well in the dark as in the daytime, I dared him to do it, and well, he did, and removed a little piece of chin. He tells everyone it was from a grazed bullet. I then feel his face studying mine. He had a sort of dreamy look to his face, almost . . . Almost like when we first met. We 'looked into each other's eyes and saw something', and it would seem he's seeing something. He's eyeing me like a beautiful painting, a statue, a prize-winning stallion.

We've been together for over thirty years. Things have changed over those decades. We both have wrinkles and curves in places that didn't have them before. Certain things are sagging a bit. We both have a bit of a paunch, one of us more than the other and by 'other' I'm not referring to myself.

"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch."

"Nonsense!" Dutch scoffed, giving my nose a gentle tweak. "And as part of my plan, I'll show you!"

Now I've heard him say 'I have a plan many a time and for the most part, nothing of note comes of it (minus those plans that go awry and end up in absolute chaos) . . . But, I was curious, given what day it is.

Dutch carefully rolls me off of him and heads to our bookcase which is a glorified small library. I watch curiously as he meanders over to the bookcase. His once rolling strut now takes on a bit of a shuffle, the limp that he's had since his forties has gotten more obvious. The life that we led had caught up to us both. I shake my head as I note his pyjama pants have hiked down a bit, I see the crack of his ass; that ass isn't as supple as you can say these days but still something to grab. I have to reassure him that he looks as handsome as ever, as he doesn't think so. Words aren't always enough; I have to show him, touch him in those special spots he feels vulnerable about, and make him feel beautiful. Likewise, Dutch still thinks I'm as handsome as ever. I'm a weathered old man of seventy-five, but . .. He has his way of bringing me around. He's a man who can master words, and know how to say the right things even if if I'm not feeling the words he's describing. Some say that's mere manipulation, but speaking of someone who has such an intimately deep connection, I can tell you it's the intimacy of the soulmate.

I watch curiously as he picks up a long green-covered book, of medium thickness and then a stick of graphite from a box on the bookshelf and slides on his thick black-framed glasses; I raise an eyebrow. It then occurs to me . . .

Did this man creep into my head, and rob me of my plan? Now I taught him a few things but I don't think I've taught him *that* well. I want to tell him that I have the same idea where I'd be drawing, but . . . No. I'll surprise him.

"Oh, I'm sure there are prettier things that you can draw. Like what's outside the window, that Heartlands landscape—"

Dutch lets out a deep belly laugh as he sits down, clapping my knee as he perches on the edge of the bed, facing me. "Am I married to the landscape?"

I retort; he opened the door for it. "Sometimes I think life would be easier If I was married to the Heartland Overflow! With all the frogs and the muskrats . . . "

"Destined to live with pests then, huh?"

That idiot just laughs again knowing it was my turn to walk into it, hugging that book to him as I give him a halfhearted kick. He then studies me for a long moment, his eyes twinkling as he just looks over at me. I can't deny he's being adorable; I can't get seriously annoyed. Yes, he's still frustratingly charming and uses it at every opportunity to get his way. Very frustrating.

"How do you want me posed?" I ask, remembering the last time we've drawn each other . . . Oh, it's been years.

We were both young and took up (illegal) residence in a shoreside house on Iron Lake. It belonged to an artist who was at the time, away in Paris and as something to do to pass the time when it was raining, we took time drawing one another. We were fitter then, with fewer wrinkles in some places, fresher faced. The drawings are still framed over our bed. That house went from being owned by an artist to a fisherman and now it's abandoned when he packed up his fishing gear and took up residence that was owned by some fellow named Hamish. Maybe one day, we'll get our boys to fix it up for a little family retreat.

I watch Dutch's face take on a pondering expression, his eyes softly scanning my form, mentally taking note of every detail. I find myself doing the same with him; there's love in those eyes, a certain twinkle to go with it that tells me this is a fun little activity borne out of love. I could tell him that there are more attractive, younger models out there he could use. I'm sure some art school out Saint Denis could provide them, but he'd argue that there'd be no one else that he'd want to draw.

"Natural, with that faraway look I often catch you in. Y'know, the look I catch you when you're reading and tryin' to ignore me."

I laugh but sit up in bed, keeping one knee up and bracing myself with my left arm, while the other casually drapes down.

"A little overdressed there, Mr. Matthews?" Dutch warmly teases; that twinkle in his eyes, that playful but loving tone in his voice... I suppose he loves me. "I... I want to show how handsome you are still."

I sigh. There's no fighting with him over this; he'll think I'm gorgeous if I'm wearing a paper bag. With some feigned reluctance, I shed off my pyjamas, putting on a little show for him because I do like that stupid smile and making him a little thirsty somehow, before placing them on the bedside dresser.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and take on that look he so desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts. He's posing rather artistically himself; he's got his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee which belongs to a leg he lets lazily dangle off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel and has a nipple staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that, I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and adopt the look he desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts posing rather artistically; his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee, lazily dangling off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel, and a nipple is staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately, I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that; I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

I decide to poke him in his belly with a toe, making him squeak; he's still stupidly ticklish. "Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch's silly smile turns into a grin. He felt my eyes on him; I was egging him on. "Pretend I'm being an annoying shit when you're reading, and you're trying to engross yourself in your fictional fantasy."

I scoff, somehow managing to retain my expression and pose. I scoldingly point and shake my finger at him, and that grin just widens, with a chuckle. "When aren't you being an annoying shit? And when I do engross myself in my fictional fantasies, you decide it's time to get needy and crawl into my lap for your hair to be played with and your belly to be rubbed." Admittedly, I inadvertently encourage that because I can't resist; once he brings out the puppy eyes act, I can't resist.

"Point taken!" Dutch's voice is boisterous at my rebuttal; he rolls with my punches and brings out another zinger at me as he points the graphite stick at me.

"Now who's distracting who? With you thinkin' about touching me and all."

I roll my eyes and shake my head at that sass, which he accentuates with a squirm of his ass. "Dutch . . ." I could go on with this back-and-forth banter all day; I enjoy it more than I let on. A big part of me wants to keep poking the bear, to see what he comes up with next, and to surprise him with what I'm capable of. But . . . I am curious to see this masterpiece he's working on, and I'd like to see it before I head off to the afterlife.

Dutch starts at his work slowly, his hand moving at a slow, fluid pace for the most part, intermittently peppered with rapid flicks of his wrist.

"This isn't one of those caricature pieces, is it?" I ask curiously, maybe with some caution; we have such a piece above our dresser; some silly Frenchman did it for us when we made a trip to, ugh, Saint Denis when I visited family and Dutch insisted on tagging along. It's a cute style, a cute piece, but I'd rather some of my features not be exaggerated if he's drawing me in the nude.

"Real-life study, Old Girl!" Dutch beamed, creases forming in the corners of his eyes; he's frustratingly adorable when he's enthusiastic about something to the point where the crow's feet arrive to roost.

I feel like disappearing into the bedsheets as I sense a wave of vulnerability washing over me. It's not often I feel vulnerable. He means well; the love is evident in his eyes, though; I can't bring myself to say no to this thing.

"You . . . You don't have to draw every detail."

Dutch frowns, tipping his head in that way when he's puzzled by something, not dissimilar to a dog puzzled by some strange sound that it doesn't know what it is. Occasionally, he'll do that in an argument, as if not understanding why I'm upset with him.

"I find every detail of you to be beautiful, 'sea."

"Every bit?" I ask, tilting my head as well.

As a spouse with over twenty years of experience, it's natural to find at least one part of your partner's body to be, well, not beautiful. For Dutch, it's that damn ugly right toe of his, crooked and bigger than the other, and yet it's the one that he likes to poke me with.

Dutch gently insisted, his face taking on a sort of dreamy expression. "Every bit. And I love to kiss every bit of your body --"

I gently but firmly interrupt; if I don't, there goes his plan, and it'd be another on the pile of failed plans. How do I know this? Because that silly man has a hard time keeping his hands off of me (and I admit the feeling is mutual for as much of a pain in the ass he is and how much it just encourages him), or his lips off my body, and this drawing will never get done! Maybe if he doesn't interrupt me again, he can get what he wants. It is lovely having him kiss over my body, and they can be the softest, sweetest little kisses. He's a bit slower at them these days, as if memorizing every inch of my body.

"Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch snickers, outright snickers, and returns to work once I roll my eyes and regain my composure, repositioning myself.

"Cheekbones . . . " Dutch whispers, half to himself; it was one of those cases where he thinks his thoughts are still inside his head but he lets them spill out. "Still beautiful, defined cheekbones . . . "

I have a tiny smile threatening to grow. My cheekbones are one feature of me that I'm still rather fond of. My face has sunken with age, as Dutch's has; his cheekbones are more prominent than when I first met him. I often catch him running a thumb over mine as he looks into my eyes. Sometimes before a kiss, sometimes as he's telling me how much he loves me or something equally sappy. He likes to kiss them in the morning, trying to butter me up after he stirs me awake because, with certainty, I can say that he's the thing that stirs me awake, and I'm not a morning person.

"Eyes that look into my soul . . . "

Now he's getting a bit sappy. I've heard him describe my eyes as having a lot of soul and, at times, a certain weariness to them (I can't imagine why). I manage that faraway look, though my focus isn't entirely so far away, but at the man drawing me and beyond.

"I'm so attractive you can't keep your eyes on me." Dutch teases, snickering again when I scoff. He is indeed a lovely specimen to look at but at this moment, he's more silly than sexy, but I'll let an old manchild dream that he's still a Roman sculpture of a man.

"I'm looking behind you." I'm trying to focus on the painting of our dearly departed Labrador, Matilda -- who was buried between Silver Charm and The Count -- emphasis on trying, as he's 'caught' me.

My dear husband is onto me, scoffing away. "Sure, sure . . . "

Dutch studies me for a long time, just smiling, looking at me the way a schoolboy looks at his crush, and I let out an exasperated sigh when he itches at his chest. It looked a little planned, to tease me, to show a little skin, which isn't as taut as it used to be; I might have caught a bit of a jiggle on that tit. But he's still gorgeous to me, jiggly bits and all. "Hey, when you got an itch, you scratch it!" Dutch tsk tsks as he catches me glancing at him for half a second.

"Slut!" I retort.

The idiot just grins like the Cheshire Cat; he knows that I know that was an attempt to flirt. Love. He's in love. I've had fleeting moments where I think life without him would be easier but they're fleeting when I think how much life would be. . . Well, duller, without him. He does provide unexpected moments of amusement like this, he's a warm body to snuggle up to at night and a damn good kisser. In my prime, I could have found someone better in bed (he's a bottom through and through and a bratty sub at that), but, well, I suppose I'm in love, too. I take on that faraway look, just 'thinking.'

"You know, I've always loved your nose. Perfectly kissable!" Dutch will be narrating this whole thing, just wait; he doesn't have to give progress reports but he feels it's his duty.

"You think every part of my body is kissable."

I'm convinced that the smile on Dutch's face will freeze on his face permanently. "Oh, I do . . . " He plans on kissing every inch of my body when we're done with this thing, I just know it. And I plan on doing the same for him.

All banter aside, as I put on my 'faraway stare', I feel exposed, but at the same time . . . Desired. Now and then we put each other in such a position where we will feel vulnerable; some may say it's 'toxic' but it's one of our ways of showing the trust we have in each other, a sort of gentle surrender in our dynamics; normally I'm the head of the household here but once in a while I'll let him take the reins and see what he does with them before taking hold of them, where I'll remind him. I would never shed my clothes in the name of art for anyone other than this man. In his younger years, Dutch would have jumped at the chance to be drawn in the nude, but with the contours he's gained over the years and knowing how self-conscious he can be of them, it's likely he too would only do this for me.

I can't help but be drawn by the elegance of his hand movements, even the movements he's making for what I'm assuming is shading; those are more deliberate. "Right after your hands, my favourite part of you is your chest. It's a safe for your heart and there's no force on earth or beyond that can bust it open."

The damn fool thinks I'm invincible. I know it's a lie he tells himself that he believes and tells me and tells others, as I know losing me is one of his greatest fears. It's a lie he uses to comfort himself and I won't take it away from him. Deep down, with my decade age gap, I fear I may go first, and one of my fears is leaving him behind. Dutch is much more fragile than he lets on. He won't do well without me. Not one bit.

But enough of the depressing talk.

Going from the circular motions of his hand, I can tell he's drawing my nipples, a part of my body that I don't think much of. That is until my mustached companion here decides to play with them and then I'm convinced they're hooked up with electricity with all its nerves. We both alike used to be firmer on that region on the map, like everything else but, we'll live with what we have.

"Do you know why men have nipples for, 'sea?"

Ahah! I knew it.

I think for a moment, though. I could think of some smartass response, but then I decided to show I know as much as he does. "They're leftover from when us fellows are developing in the womb if my memory serves me." I vaguely remember those details; it's been a bit since I've looked up the medical books. The last time I read one was when Dutch got a boil on the inside of one of his ass cheeks a few years ago and I wanted to get it properly drained; pardon me, that was too much information. I'm sure nobody wanted to know about an old man's bottom.

Dutch decides to be the smartass.

"Well, that's the boring answer."

"I was going for the scientific explanation."

"You can call it what you want," Dutch insisted with a smirk. "Medical professionals say they serve no purpose as we develop, but I disagree. These medical 'professionals' as they call themselves, must have less of a sex life than us old wrinklies."

I scoff. No doubt some of those experts are 'old wrinklies themselves, not much younger than us, but . . . "You can call yourself an old wrinkly. I prefer to use the term 'senior citizen.'"

Dutch can't help himself. "With citizenship, comes governance!"

Yes, he's still a rebel. He has trouble now and then getting up on his horse, an Irish Cob gelding named Blagdon, but he still thinks he's a revolutionary. I'll let him dream on.

Dutch is putting details into the collarbone; I can just tell from the expression alone; a soft, reflective expression as his eyes fall on my chest. Though the connection was there right at the beginning -- we looked into each other's eyes and saw something -- Dutch was, possibly to your surprise, socially charming at the start of our dating -- he could charm the socks off of you -- but awkward when it came to the art of seduction; maybe he was shy. I was his first experience with another man and I thought at the time he was a bit intimidated; my age gap didn't help, I thought. I was gentle, I was patient, and we took that part slowly. He loved to linger on my chest; he still does. He peppers a series of kisses along my collarbone before working his way downwards. It feels wonderful, and I can even remember the first time he did it; I ran my hands through his hair, giving the softest of kisses, and the lightest of nibbles as if he was eating corn on the cob.

"Such an underrated part of the body . . . " I think out loud, amazed at myself for remembering those little memories. "And yet you give it so much love . . ."

There's a warm twinkle in Dutch's eyes. "First place I kissed south of your lips. Every part of the body needs a bit of attention; everything is connected."

He works on my arms and shoulders next; those admittedly are still decently toned, as are his. We often don't think about how often we use them in our day-to-day lives. Even at my age of seventy-five and him at sixty-five, we still dance with our arms around each other, we enwrap each other around with them at nighttime. We often get nightmares; I suppose with the lifestyle we led before retiring, it comes naturally, so those embraces at night can get tight. Often, we wake up with crescent marks on our skin from our nails, and our ribs feeling bruised, and we don't even realize that we've been clinging to each other so hard. We use them to embrace each other during our lovemaking; we don't leave dents in the wall much anymore, but us 'old wrinklies' as Dutch refers to us as, do have sex. It's a little slower now, but still so good, even better as we've become so at one with each other's bodies.

Pardon me.

Attached to arms, of course, are hands, which his focus floats on next. I've mentioned before in another story that they're Dutch's favourite part of me, tied with my heart. Well, as an update, Dutch still loves the way I touch him. I love how they glide over the contours of his body, how they'll move about like a spider when I scritch and tickle, which he acts like he hates but I know he loves it, and eventually surrenders to. I love the way our fingers interlace; despite the difference in size and shape of our fingers. I love how they fit in with each other.

"I should do a study on your hands, Old Girl," Dutch purred, taking his time; I know he won't skimp on their details; every line on my knuckles will be drawn. "I still remember the first time you touched me, just a quick touch on the top of my hand when you brought that pan of bacon and eggs over to me, but I felt 'something' even there. And did I ever do things where you could 'accidentally' touch me."

I laugh, having a memory of him 'accidentally' brushing his hand against mine as we walked through some town. I don't know where it was, but I damn well knew he was flirting with me and I had to take him back behind somewhere to give him my first kiss. I wish I could remember where it was; I'd be happy to recreate it with him.

After a moment, he puts the graphite stick down for a moment and swallows hard. There's something he was trying to forget; I know the look he gets when he does that.

"Dutch . . . ?" I asked softly, concerned; I want to hold him and will.

"I'm just scared . . . " A word he doesn't use often; now it was his turn to feel vulnerable. "Of losing our memories."

I want to reach out and hold him, and I will. Sometimes I find myself forgetting about mundane things, locking the door and such, and it scares me. Dutch will forget things and will put on a stoic act; except today. Today was the first day where I caught him afraid of losing his most precious memories. The fear of getting dementia for people of our age is very real; we've built a life together, raised a family, lived out some dreams and let others slip through our fingers. To help us preserve those memories, we've created journals, and photographs taken of us, and now . . . Drawing each other again, this time as old men.

"I'll help you with that, my love," I speak softly. "It's why I agreed to do this."

I get a smile out of him again, and I'm glad of it. I don't like letting him stray into dark thoughts for long; it can be hard to bring him out of it. "I thought it was because you knew I was going to bring out the puppy eyes." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he still uses them to try and get his way and yes, it's still very effective; damn manipulative old fart.

"That was part of it," I scoff. "I've never been good at resisting those."

Dutch gave me that look as he continued to draw, presumably my torso next. I know he won't spare any details. "There were maybe a handful of times when they didn't work. You put up one of those big personal space bubbles. I didn't care to cross those. You'd chase me off, and I knew how good you were with the gun." He laughed, still that husky laugh from all those years ago.

I smirk. I admit I got a bit of a power trip out of that. The others . . . Oh, they couldn't help but stop and watch. Maybe I earned more respect from them, and I might have carried a little swagger with them as well. Everyone needs a little ego boost.

"But . . . You'd always charmed and wormed your way back into my heart," I laugh, fondly remembering; putting up those invisible barriers was for the best when I felt my blood boiling after he said or did something particularly stupid, but it was so hard on both of us. "You did your damned 'I'll lie in your lap while you read so you pay complete attention to me' thing, to buying expensive things for me from chocolate to wine and silly imported cologne and gold watches and other expensive trinkets." Truthfully, one could think he was trying to buy off my anger, and maybe it was an attempt to do that, but . . . I found it amusing to see how far he'd go with it.

"You still have that gold watch from when that happened the first time," Dutch said, a certain twinkle in his eye; it still works after all these years. "Bought it with the money I got from that bank job."

There were so many opportunities that he had where he could just steal something for me but just didn't. "You never did like stealing my gifts directly."

"I find it more rewarding," Dutch murmured, a wide smile appearing across his face; from the motions of his hand, he's working on some shading. "Besides, we got the money, might as well put it to some use."

I find that charming. And one of his best assets is that he's charming, and he can be an absolute menace with it. It's why, of course, I've gone softer on him than I should have over the years. I could have rejected those little gifts when I dropped my invisible barrier, could have shoved him off my lap when he crawled into it, but . . . Sigh. He's impossible.

Then, Dutch charms me yet again.

He turns the sketchbook around to show me the progress of his work.

I'm speechless.

"You like it, Hosea?"

I swallow hard. I feel vulnerable once again, but . . . Something else.

Desired.

Laid out in front of me in that drawing is a portrait of an aged man. He has skin that has sagged in places, wrinkles, and contours that weren't there before. He has a slight paunch, very slight, that was once flat. Details of the legs haven't been completed, but there's already the start of some muscle definition there. And yet he carries himself with an air of dignity and wisdom. The shoulders and arms that he's bracing himself on are still nicely toned; maybe not as toned as they were in his youth, but no judgment. He's looking off to some faraway destination, that if I didn't know better, was miles away versus the other handsome elder man a few feet away.

"Yes . . . Yes, I do."

I seem transfixed for a long moment; we just give each other soft eye contact, saying so much with that alone. How we love each other, how we trust each other. He slowly moves back to drawing but peeks out at me from the top of the book as he does.

"What would you say about getting this framed?"

I break my expression to smile. "I'll steal the damn frame for you."

I get another hearty laugh out of him. He works on my legs next, and then my. . . assets. He's a study in concentration, not letting one bit of detail escape him. He knows his way around my body better than I do. Even at our age, we still explore each other as if it is the first time again; truthfully, with that familiarity he has of my body, he probably could have done this drawing blindfolded.

When he's completed, Dutch slips up next to me with the sketchbook clutched to his chest. He has a smile that wouldn't have just lit up our house with electricity, but also the next residence a few miles away that belongs to Lenny. He wraps an arm around my shoulder as he shows me the completed drawing, and I feel a hint of that strength that he still has as he gives me even a gentle squeeze.

I swallow hard, snuggling into his embrace. He senses that I'm getting emotional and kisses me on the top of my head, then my shoulder, and that spot between my head and shoulder. I feel myself nearly speechless, and the words that tumble out of my mouth don't seem enough to convey how I feel. Every detail was etched in; he even drew in scars I've collected over the years. I still feel an edge of vulnerability, but . . .

"It's wonderful, Dutch, thank you . . . " I turn in his hold and hug him tight, lightly rubbing his back as I do; although it still feels strong, the skin shifts there more easily these days and ripples underneath my fingers.

"You make me feel . . . Handsome."

Dutch gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Because you are, Old Girl."

"It's been a while since I've done some drawing, mostly landscapes and rabbits and things as you know, but I promise that I'll try to do you justice."

He nuzzles a kiss on my cheek. I still love the feeling of his bristly stubble on my cheek.

"Don't worry, Old Girl, I'll love it."

There is both unpredictability and predictability to Dutch, even now; he's frustrating in that regard. At the same time, he's a boy who's insecure and needy, craving every scrap of attention and affection that can come his way. He gets plenty of both, but Dutch is Dutch, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

I take the graphite stick and sketchbook from him as he hands them over, kissing him on the cheek reluctantly as I break away from the hug and shift over to sit at the corner of the bed. "Now, pyjamas off. If I had to, you have to too." I sneak a playful wink.

Dutch chuckles and strips off the pyjamas, deciding to make a little show of it just as I did for him because Dutch is Dutch. He's already front and centre of attention as he's about to restart his modelling career, who thought he'd get back into it at sixty-five? I scoff and roll my eyes; this man amuses me as much as he can frustrate me.

I think for a moment about what pose he should get himself into. He does look rather sexy when he's brooding and smoking a cigar, is still rather delicious when he takes on a pinup girl pose, a silly thing he sometimes does to help get me in the mood. I could have him pose on his hands and knees, but I fear that would be too distracting for me. Then I had another idea, one pose of his that I find so underratedly sexy and beautiful.

"Now something... Vulnerable," I warmly suggest, my eyes gently meeting Dutch's eager gaze as he waits for further instruction. "Maybe that pose you often take after we've had sex, after the aftercare, where you look so... Delectably submissive." As much as the sex is still good and as much as we enjoy, I relish that period afterwards; I often lie in the crook of his arm as we lazily trace patterns on each other's skin, sometimes blowing raspberries on each other if we're feeling silly, and if this isn't unfolding at night, it causes us to happily put off whatever else needs to be done in the day.

Dutch smiles shyly at me and slowly lies on his back. He tucks one hand behind his head, as if playing with his hair (something he does when caught in a lie or playing coy with me for one reason or another), while the other is tucked up on his chest, not unlike a dog who wants his belly rubbed. His legs sprawl out, openly exposing his genitals. His expression is soft, trusting, and loving, his body language submissive and vulnerable, echoing the trust in his expression. At once, he looks incredibly sexy and slutty, yet adorable; a wonderful contradiction before my eyes that I could just about gobble up. Cute aggression, as they call it, is very real.

"You look comfortable," I murmur, letting my eyes roam over him before I start; my voice is soft and soothing, as if calming a restless horse instead of the man who looks anything but restless. "And absolutely... Precious."

Dutch almost whispers; many of you know him as someone who can be, well, loud. "The only way I could be more comfortable would be if you'd be snuggled up against me."

"That'll come when I'm done, Dutch," I smile, deciding to start with his face; I know how hard it is to maintain expression, so I thought it'd be humane to start with that first. "You still have such a gorgeous face."

Truthfully, I feel his face looks wiser than he is, but I love framing it in my hands as I look into those eyes. That big nose is a feature that some (wrongly, in my eyes) view as 'ugly,' but I find it to be wonderful, so unique, and I kiss it at every opportunity. Likewise, I find something special about that cleft chin, which he loves getting scratched. I love tracing a finger along his jawline, along those cheekbones, and of course, kissing those lips. I admit, I enjoy scratching that stupid soul patch, and I can't resist tracing a finger along that mustache as those early morning rays peek through the curtains. I draw each of these features in order of my narration in this paragraph and pour my heart into putting as much detail into them as possible.

Just as he had done with me, I want Dutch to feel as handsome as I see him.

"We should do this more often," Dutch spoke with a slight catch in his voice in his suggestion. "I think... I think it'd be a good way to remind us of the beauty of growing old."

I was touched by that and swallowed hard. He's right; there should be no shame in growing old. Old age shouldn't be something to be ashamed of; it's an accomplishment. I waste no time in making my decision.

"Absolutely," I answer softly, thinking of how beautiful the flowers are in spring in our surrounding area; we reside at what was once called Hanging Dog Ranch. Dutch decided to call it Casa Van der Linde. Are you surprised?

"During nice weather, we could even do it outside. I think that'd be lovely out by the flowers, by the creek."

There was no argument from Dutch. It's one of his favorite spots to read, go for a ride. I've once worried he had gone missing, but I've found him napping against a boulder among the lupins with that damn Evelyn Miller in his lap.

One of his novels, you perverts.

Once I was done with his other facial features, after I etched in my last detail for his ears, I shift my focus to his hair. It's still beautiful, and even more so now that it's silvered, and long! It hangs down his shoulders like a lion; magnificent. And it shines so nicely in those warm sunsets and sunrises and in the candlelight. His hairline has been receding, but he still has those lovely ringlets which I love to twirl between my fingers, and Dutch gets just as much enjoyment out of it. He still pushes his head back against my fingers, his eyes closed in contentment; it's not unheard of that my scalp massages, my playing with his hair goes on for hours. At times, I use his hair as something to grip onto for more risqué purposes. I know what you're thinking, but no, that's not the reason behind his receding hairline.

When I reluctantly pulled my attention away from his hair as I drew one more curl in, I worked on his neck next. The skin there had lost some elasticity, as mine had done as well, but still strong enough to carry that big head of his; it's weighed down with mangoes and plans. Then, his shoulders are my next target. They still have some nice muscle tone to them, and attached, long, lean strong arms (whose skin is thinner these days) that still hold me close and strong at night, as if protecting me from the boogeyman at night.

"I always liked your arms, you know," I muse, taking my time and shading them. "Lean and long and strong, and how I just... fit so well in them."

Dutch looks lost in thought for a moment, though I knew he was listening. There's a warm look in his eyes as if he was reliving a memory. "I remember holding you for the first time. It was that cold night . . . Someplace in West Elizabeth, before there was more development out in Strawberry. The fire wasn't doing a good enough job at keeping you warm and I thought, you'd be warmer up against me."

I chuckle, remembering. We tried to get back there for our latest anniversary; alas, the location was turned into a hunter's lodge for the rich, some big gaudy thing. It made our hearts sink. "It was when we were getting to know each other a little more. Truthfully, I thought you were coming onto me, holding me that close, and so tight. Not that I minded if you were, of course. I kept warm."

There's a spark in Dutch's eyes as he remembered. When you're married to someone as I have been, you notice little things that they tell you with their eyes. "I opened up my coat and pulled you into it, couldn't get all the way closed but I think the combination of our body temperatures compensated."

I can almost feel that warmth again. He had a massive Grizzly Bearskin coat that was an import from Canada, before getting that Black Bear one you might have seen him in; he unfortunately lost it during a train robbery.

Once I finished the shading on his shoulders and his arms, I start sketching out those big hands. I love them. His long, lean fingers are a bit stiffer these days, particularly in the colder months, but still do what they need to do; Special Tonic helps our old man hands tremendously. I massage his hands when they get particularly ouchy, as he does with me; Dutch always gets a bit grumpy when I start, but eventually, he gives in and enjoys it. If you guessed it, yes, he's still a bit of a baby at times over things. He still touches me in the right way, in the right places; they work well for that.

Just to tease me, Dutch plays with that hair a titch, giving me the puppy eyes look for no reason other than he can. I shake my head, scoffing. "You are really trying to prolong this, aren't you, Dutch?" I tease.

"Just got some locks caught up in my fingers, is all," Dutch teases, knowing that I know better. "I want my hair to look presentable for the drawing."

I scoff again, turning the book around to show the progress. "I've already drawn it."

"Oh, he's handsome!" Dutch grinned, giving his hips a bit of a squirm. "If you're not careful, I might flirt with him."

Flirting at an illustration of himself! It's just so... him. I just had to laugh, even if I encouraged him.

"You are impossible, Dutch."

Dutch just chuckles, giving that waist a bit of a squirm because he can. I pause the drawing for a moment because he is simply being too distracting.

"And now you're flirting with me!"

"When don't I?"

That old imp got me then. He always flirts with me; I could be reading the paper while sipping my coffee when he decides to pull my attention away by kissing me on the neck. It comes off as a bit silly these days rather than sexy. I haven't been able to fully read a newspaper in the morning in over thirty years, I'm secretly amused, and I think he knows it.

I eventually do get back to the drawing, moving my attention onto his chest. As mentioned earlier, the skin is, well, less taut there these days. He's never been the most barrel-chested fellow but looks even less so these days; all the same, I still love laying my head on it, feeling, and loving the warmth from it. I still love blowing kisses right over that heart, as he does with me. I etch in the details as I see them presented before me, details that took him a long time to come around to accepting, with some convincing from me. He's been gaining positive associations, learning to like parts of his body better through my kissing them more. Over time, Dutch has been feeling more handsome these days, something I regret from time to time!

"You ain't drawing me with saggy tits, are you?" Dutch teased; he's growing more comfortable with his aging body, so much so that he'll crack a joke about it.

"You drew me with a potbelly," I playfully retort, though I won't live in denial; I do have a tiny bit of one these days that has been resistant towards me working it off, but alas, it remains. "It's only fair."

The graphite stick does its job as I gradually work my way down towards his lower torso, along that ribcage that carries a bit more flesh on it these days. Like the rest of his torso, he's still very ticklish there; I just have to dig in a little deeper when I poke him there, still often in public when I need to keep him in line. Most recently, Dutch got a good jab when he flirted with the new bartender in Valentine; a rather handsome, big Irish fellow of around our age who took a liking to us. I got a little jealous!

It was during that flirty moment that I cut short that we get older it's not uncommon for us seniors to... Get a little daring, and explore different things with each other. Maybe next time we're in town, we'll ask that Irish gentleman if he has any plans for the afternoon outside of pouring beer and cleaning glasses.

But! There's a drawing that needs to be done.

I etch in some more details on that mid-torso; one being a bit of a roll of his waist; a lovely love handle. I love them. They're something extra for me to grab that wasn't there all those years ago, and it's a secret kissing spot. That spot on his right hip is as sensitive as it ever was, though like his ribs I have to dig in just a little more to get a reaction out of him. Just because those hips, that waist, are a little thicker these days, doesn't mean they're any less slutty. Oh, they are. I'd be lying if I said he didn't use them to get his way from time to time. Imagine being manipulated by a sixty-five-year-old man's waist, complete with love handles! It's not something I'll openly brag about.

Dutch's ass is largely absent in this drawing; it's buried itself comfortably into the bedspread but a teasing hint of it is seen.

The next stop on the drawing Dutch tour, his belly. It was once so flat you could drive a train on it, and well, now, that train would fall off the rails. To put it bluntly, Dutch has developed a paunch (which I love), that I could just bury my face in — and I do. It sits like a well-used cushion as he lays in the manner in which he is posing, the lower roll slightly curtaining his groin. The married life has been suiting him well; there are some consequences to hand-feeding each other expensive imported chocolate from Europe every evening, but we've earned it for living as long as we have with the lifestyle we've led. If I want to hear his laugh, I'll blow a kiss on that irresistible belly button that doesn't know it wants in or out.

It makes me sad to think that he had once been so self-conscious about the changes to his body. To me, with more flesh on him, more of him to love, he looks even more handsome as he's aged.

Dutch's genitals, which he openly has exposed in a show of voluntary vulnerability and submission, weren't spared of aging, but they still do their job. They're dipped down between his legs that lay sprawled before him, his pubic hair as grey as the hair on his head and chest. A lot of men of our age have trouble getting it up; we are not foolproof in this regard. As mentioned earlier, sex is still good, but when we can't get it up, we've found other ways to deliver pleasure to each other, and in many ways, sex is even more enjoyable as a result.

His legs are part of the final journey in this session. Dutch's are long and lean, and thanks to daily horseback riding, their musculature is still damn fine. Their appearance hides the stiffness that's in them these days; for us both, our walks take us a little more time. Now, before you take, would you be shocked to learn though that I suspect he milks it now and then through so that he gets leg massages?

Dutch's feet are my last target. Those too get massaged, sigh. I again leave no detail undrawn; yes, I even drew that gross big toe of his. He says it happened many years ago during a heist when he accidentally dropped a safe on his foot, but I know damn well it's because The Count stomped one night at camp. He had a few drinks and forgot his boots and well, bare feet around horse hooves aren't among the best combinations out there. Dutchi is a little dramatic; he likes to exaggerate from time to time.

I finish the drawing with some extra shading around those soft curves of his body and etch in a few details here and there that I have accidentally left out. I finish the drawing off with those rings of his, and I set the graphite stick on the bedside table. Just as he had done with me, I slip up into bed next to him, kiss him on the forehead, and open up the book to him with my arms around him as he cuddles up close into my lap.

Dutch gets emotional. We all know he's emotional, that's nothing to be alarmed at, but there are times when I think he's just going to crumble. I thought one of those moments was unfolding before my eyes as he rapidly blinks back tears. He's come so far in regaining self-esteem over the changes to his body; had I undone all of that?

Dutch shifts half of his torso into my lap to get a better look at my work, his eyes taking in the details. There's a noticeable waver to his voice as he speaks, but there's a smile on his face, and it can be heard in his voice.

"I don't think the finest artists out of Europe could draw a better likeness of me."

I was touched, honestly touched, but I laugh. Someone who hadn't drawn much lately aside from the odd rabbit and deer, and maybe the odd folks in town (clothed in case you get any ideas), better than those highly fluent artists who have their artwork displayed in major art galleries around the world? Dutch is still a charmer.

"Oh, you flatter me," I laugh, hugging as much of Dutch as I can. "But I think we both know you'd be thrown out of their studios. You talk and fidget too damn much for a model! You'd be a pain in the ass and go off on some philosophical rant about art and man."

Dutch belts out a laugh, turning over onto his back with a big, silly smile. We know each other a bit too well. "Oh, I thought I was being a bit on the quiet side."

I grab a lock of that hair, twirl a long silver strand between my fingers, and give it a playful tug. "Only because I didn't actively engage in conversation!"

"And you flirt! You'd be kicked out for that. Something about needing to maintain professional conduct between artist and model." As if to emphasize, I poke him on his chest and then his belly, because I had to make him squeak. He deserves it.

There's a playful twinkle in Dutch's eyes as he positions himself to be poked again; he secretly loves it. I can also almost see the wheels, rusted as they might be, turning in his head. He's planning something and plays it coy.

Oh, but I think we don't have to maintain any of that pompous professional conduct here. We're small gallery-type artists. Flirting just grows familiarity with the model and artist. We have the perfect formulation."

I sigh, shaking my head, but decide to play along and see how far he goes. I smirk a knowing smirk, knowing it'll just egg him on. "What if the artist and model have already grown very familiar with each other?"

"Then, flirting becomes flirting with creativity," Dutch speaks a bit lower, dragging a finger along my jawline, to my neck, to the base of my ear. My breath hitches sharply; he knows damn well how that touch affects me.

"It can change perspective, explore new art concepts."

The moment I saw that glint in his eyes, that smirk, I knew Dutch was going to make good on my promise to 'kiss every inch of my body.'

"It's important for artists to study their subject before they even pick up their medium of choice," Dutch perfects the voice of an artist giving a speech at one of those big art galleries as he sets the book on the bedside table.

"You want to take in what you see in front of you and decide, what style should I use? Should this be realism, or should it be abstract? What medium should I use? And what will the meaning be behind the result?"

Dutch gently, smoothly, lays me down and starts to kiss my neck. I close my eyes, taking in the warmth from his lips, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on my neck. He slowly trails more kisses down towards my collarbone, spending some time there before making his way down further on my chest. My back involuntarily arches up off the mattress as I feel his tongue just lightly tease a nipple, urging more out of him.

In between those kisses though, and the further he shifts his way down my body, Dutch starts to offer a string of names and dates of some famous paintings throughout history. He's trying to impress me with his artisan knowledge. Sometimes, I think there's a library in that thick skull of his, but a library where the books have all fallen off the shelves following a tornado. It all becomes a mess of dates and names that I cannot possibly save for later reference.

I roll my eyes, trying to tune out Dutch's voice as I focus on the sensation of his lips and tongue exploring me as if it were the first time. I encourage him when he's quiet, my hands roaming through those long locks of hair, savoring how nice it feels after all these years and just how thick it still is. While my hair hasn't turned to shit, I might be envying his.

And then, Dutch brings up the subject of man and art and how it will change humanity.

Oh God. He's going philosophical.

I'll have to stop this or he'll be talking at all hours of the night.

I know that to interrupt his ramble, I'll have to put the kisses—wonderful as they are—on pause. I firmly guide him up so that we're facing each other and roll my eyes as he gives a look that resembles a love-struck teenager, wanting to kiss again after stopping to catch a breath after a lengthy makeout session. Only this is a sixty-five-year-old man who thinks he could kiss every inch of my body while rambling about the history of art and its philosophy without me falling asleep.

I smirk and, after wrapping my legs around him, I turn him over so that I'm on top of him; there's very little resistance from him. Before he can get another word in about 18th-century philosophy in paintings, I entangle my fingers through that gorgeous silver hair and ease him in for a long, lingering kiss on his lips, which he returns in earnest. It does a damn good job of shutting him up, and well, I rarely turn down an opportunity to kiss that man. His lips are still so soft, and that mustache creates a ticklish sort of feeling on my skin that might turn others off, but I rather enjoy it.

Despite our age, something primal sometimes stirs within us when our lips are locked and tongues slip into each other's mouths, and I love it. This was one of those times.

There's a subtle battle of dominance taking shape. Dutch rolls me back over as he pushes his tongue against mine, a low, animalistic growl erupting from his chest. Being that I'm still very much top dog in this relationship (something that certain someone needs to be reminded about), I simply can't allow that. I push him right back with all my might, which isn't much these days, but he doesn't fight back too strongly, knowing. As evident from how easily it was to turn him over, I would say some of that strength reserve of his isn't quite at full tilt either. He tries once more to gain control of the situation -- complete with a playful grab of my ass. Naughty boy! I give his hand a light smack as I turn him back over, and finally hold him down with my legs possessively wrapped around him.

When we break from the kiss, Dutch looks at me that way again, as if I were some magnificent sculpture in Italy instead of this old man lying on top of him. I smack him on his ass with a snort; there's a satisfying sound that sounds not unlike what you'd get from smacking the rear of a pig, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm not one of those people, so you'll have to use your imagination. He loves it, evident from his boyish giggle.

"Happy Valentine's Day, you old rogue."

Dutch just looks at me with that lovestruck puppy expression. I can't resist, and I kiss him again.

[copperexception]

Yoooo, what kind of cheese cake was in that post? You got the recipe? Actually please??

It was just a normal red velvet cheesecake! Thankfully, I found an easy to follow recipe to share with you.

Ingredients for the cheesecake:

16 ounces cream cheese

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon of flour

Pinch salt

1/4 cup heavy cream

2 eggs

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Steps:

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Prepare the springform pan: Spray with non-stick cooking spray and line the bottom with parchment paper.

Make the Filling: Beat cream cheese, sugar, flour, and salt until the mixture is creamy and no lumps of cream cheese remain.

Add heavy cream and vanilla. Beat to combine.

Add eggs one at a time. Beat 15 seconds before adding the next.

Bake the cheesecake: Pour filling into the pan and spread into even layer. Bake until the cheesecake is set and does not jiggle, about 40-55 minutes.

Ingredients for the red velvet layers:

1/2 cup unsalted butter

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder

6 tablespoons demon blood (can be substituted with red food coloring)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup buttermilk

1 tablespoon white vinegar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Steps:

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Prepare the Cake Pans: Grease two 9-inch cake pans and line with a parchment paper round. Grease the parchment paper and then flour the pans.

Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time and beat until well incorporated.

Make a chocolate paste: In a small bowl mix cocoa powder, vanilla extract, and demon blood to make a thick paste.

Add the chocolate paste to the batter and mix until completely combined. You might need to scrape the bottom of the bowl to ensure it all gets color.

Reduce the speed of the mixer to low and add half the buttermilk. Next, add half the flour and mix until combined. Scrape the sides and repeat with the remaining half of buttermilk and flour. Beat on high until smooth.

Reduce the speed to low and add salt, baking soda, and vinegar. Then beat on high for another couple of minutes until completely combined and smooth.

Divide the batter evenly between the two cake pans and bake for 30 minutes or until a thin knife or skewer inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool for 10 minutes and remove the cake from the pan, then place on a cooling rack to cool completely.

Ingredients for the frosting:

1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

4 cups powdered sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Pinch salt

16 ounces cream cheese

Steps:

Beat the butter, powdered sugar, vanilla, and salt with an electric mixer on low until smooth. Then mix for an additional 2 minutes, scraping down the bowl as needed.

Increase the speed to medium-low and add the cream cheese, one piece at a time and mix until smooth. Then mix for an additional 2 minutes.

Putting the cake together:

Level the tops of the cakes if necessary, then place one cake layer on a serving platter.

Remove the cheesecake from the freezer and remove the sides of the springform pan. If the cheesecake is wider than the cake layers, use a sharp knife to gently shave off some of the sides of the cheesecake so it is the same width as the cake layers.

Place the cheesecake layer on top of the first cake layer, then place the second cake layer on top of the cheesecake layer, upside-down, and then frost the whole thing with the cream cheese frosting.

Decorating and serving:

Pipe the edge with a shell border and fill the center with red velvet cake crumbs.

Top the finished cake with shaved white or dark chocolate.

When you are ready to serve, dish out your slices as is or with a side of ice cream or a tall glass of milk.

[starrysupercell]

Wintery headcanons:

There's a seasonal menu at every restaurant this time of year. Mint, dark chocolate, eggnog, etc.

The snowtel provides the best chocolate. Whipped cream, chocolate shavings, cookie straws, candy canes- the works! There's a chocolate bar where you can pick the ingredients you want and it's prepped in front of you by any of the Snowtel Staff.

Gale loves this job the most. He makes every cup with love. Lou likes jesting with the customers. Mr. P is all for perfection.

Mr. P also has a short temper around this time of year. He at least doesn't fall for the customer is always right shtick. If you mess with his Hotel, Porters, staff, or other customers he is not going to mess around. (canon: he's kicked out Bo and Bull before for some reason!)

~

Barley's selection is less varied, but he has more refined ingredients. Lavender chocolate, mint choclate, or classic. Also, spiked eggnog.

As usual, Barley and Piper have a joint deal. It's a "best enjoyed with [item from the other's business.]" This works like a charm.

Barley and Piper also go all out on gingerbread building every year and will always try to outdo last year's achievement. This year, Mandy joins! Chester is B A N N E D. Banned from even thinking about what Mandy is up to. (She ditched him <3)

Bull's diner serves the simplest chocolate by far but it's just as popular. Steaming hot, rich chocolate with whipped cream and/or marshmallows. A new topping is crushed peppermint on top.

Bonnie, bless her heart, is so impatient and will not stop burning her tongue on her hot chocolate. Janet scolds her lightly, before adding more milk to the mixture to cool it down.

There's a competition throughout all of December of best decorated place. Winner gets to put the star on the big tree at the Snowtel front.

The tree is decorated throughout the month by all of the Brawlers-- they're welcome to bring ornaments. Bought or homemade, or... otherwise(?).

Bad Randoms heavy metal Christmas Songs Covers when? ♥️💚

I think the Christmas party is pretty much always held at the Snowtel. Gifts are also exchanged there too, be it a more personal exchange or a more flashy public show.

(Gift exchange between the usual ships too! Keepers, Belle/Nani/Lola, Gunfire, etc.. 🥰)

[stumblngrumbl]

Mint 'chip' ice cream

Picked some mint from the wild patch by the pond last night, made some ice cream. Minor snafu in that I've apparently eaten all of the dark chocolate so fit the "chip" pretty I made do by melting some good "semi" sweet chocolate chips and added cocoa powder plus a bit extra fat.

The "chip" in this recipe is actually a low-melting-point chocolate drizzle added to the ice cream right near the end of the churn; unlike actual dark chocolate chips or chunks which usually don't melt in your ice cream-frozen mouth (not a fan), this does so readily and IMO really makes the combination good. The only thing better I think is shaved chocolate in mint ice cream, because then you get a hint of texture until the chocolate melts.

Approximate recipe follows, I'm a somewhat free-form cook so your milage may vary (as might the butterfat content of your milk and size of your eggs!):

Procure 1c mint leaves, rinsed, without stems

Combine ½c sugar, 3 eggs yolks; Set aside

Combine 1½c cream (heavy whipping, no thickeners), 1½c milk in saucepan

Heat to 175°F, Add mint, Remove from heat, Let sit 30m-1hr

Mix it all together

Use immersion blender until there are some small mint specs visible but don't overdo it

Fitter with medium sieve, allowing some mint specs but removing most leaves

Optionally add a few drops of peppermint-spearmint flavor if your mint is weak

Heat to 175°F slowly and carefully on low heat (no flames wrapping pot!), stirring often with silicone spatula

Place saucepan in ice water bath, occasionally stir, wait until mixture is at most 70°F, possibly colder

Either refrigerate mixture for later churning (may be necessary to chill to fridge temperature for some machines) or immediately churn if desired (Lello Musso doesn't care much one way or another)

Melt 2-4oz dark chocolate (not unsweetened) over very low flame. Mix ½t oil (sunflower or something else light and mostly tasteless unlike that horrible canola stuff) for each ounce of chocolate. If all you have is too sweet of chocolate, add some baking chocolate (unsweetened) or cocoa powder (plus a bit more oil to pretend it was chocolate) to reduce sweetness

Near the end of the churning, drizzle as much chocolate as you want into the ice cream. Mop up remaining chocolate with strawberries, bananas or fingers.

[theallenshorefangirl]

Small wholesome conversation between Sorrow and Shade cause they have huge older bro younger sister vibes (and would spout out Vines for days)

* The room they were in had a dial to change the setting from beautiful eclipses and different colored moons and phases. A ocean whitenoise box plays in the background as a teapot whistled loud*

Shade:*he wasn't in his pit form but more of a ghostly human like skeleton.instead of his brown hair, it was black and had an asphalt like texture,his eyes was a black scalea and yellow iris could be seen from his glasses and had a half mask that almost looked like sorrows only it was a black asphalt like mask with with the fangs. He wore a full black t-shirt and pj pants with his jacket and had slippers on* (it's his chill/nap time) Sorrow? Sorrow? Dang it Sorrow were are you.

Sorrow:*she was carrying a tray of snacks with some hot coco powder in two glasses and sets them down near the teapot* what do you want?

Shade:I was wondering if you needed help. I know you can sometimes get overwhelmed with stuff. *He cleaned a spot for the three tiered tray of fresh baked treats*

Sorrow:no it's fine,I got a chill up my spine and I can't find my ink sweater and you know how I get without it.

Shade:*he grabs her fuzzy blanket and lays it on her shoulders* Here, just wears this til we find it ok,I mean, I get like that when I don't have my jacket even in the heat.I always bring a jacket with me *he took off his jacket*

Sorrow:*she pours the hot water into the coco powdered cups that waft a nice chocolate smell.She then decorates it with whipped cream,shaved dark chocolate and a toasted marshmallow and even added some sprinkles* here carefully now I know how you get with melting

Shade:Oh, I got it under control, well, only here outside in my little area its hard.

Sorrow:it must be *the masks' fanged teeth dropped down as she yawns and took a bite of the scone treat.and she remembered she Usually covered her mouth when yawning or eating and nervously turned to the Shade who's mask did the same.they both laughed aloud.*

Shade:hey it's fine you made this mask for me remember it's so cool and spooky *he had cookie crumbs all over his half mask* and man these cookies and scones are delicious!

Sorrow:*she laughed and sipped her coco* it is pretty good *she got upcand changed the rooms dial to a more yellow and lilac sky that was calming to the eyes and the star and moon patern was a dark blue* is that good?

Shade:*he nods* perfect for a small nap *he finished his coco and yawns * ok, you silly goose time for a nap! *he looked around, but she was like gone*

Sorrow:*she snuck up behind him in her 3rd form,breathing down his neck* Boo

Shade:*he jumped about 3 ft in the air and fell backward* Holy shit, dude, don't do that! *he gave her a you really just did that look before laughing*

Sorrow:*she turns back into her first phase and hugs him* Did I do good? You know I was practicing for when you know who comes!

Shade:*he nods* you sure did! I mean didn't you see me jump!? That's so cool!

Sorrow:good to *yawns* know *she nodded as she fell asleep*

Shade:*he packed her to a giant bed that had a moon veil that draped over the top of the bed. He tucked her in and quietly sang a tune.Whwn she was asleep, he shut the door and cleaned up the small area they had coco and cookies at and turned off all the lights,it lights up with the glow stars and moons allover the room* Rest well *he leaves*

(Give him an award for best brother ○,□,○)

[hermae-salvador]

LIGHT UP YOUR CHRISTMAS WITH THESE DESSERT DELIGHTS

Christmas is a time to celebrate with music, festivities, and food, or should I say Christmas Desserts.

Desserts play a significant role in Christmas celebrations. Back in the day, the discovery of spices like cinnamon, nutmeg and pepper along with exotic dried fruits helped the rise of popularity of Christmas desserts immensely. And here we are today, unable to imagine Christmas without its signature pies, cookies, plum cakes and puddings.

Here are some of the Delightful Desserts that you can prepare for your family this upcoming Christmas!

Buttercream Cupcake

Your cakes, cupcakes, and cookies deserve the very best buttercream.

Buttercream is a sweet and fluffy frosting made by creaming butter and sugar. Other common ingredients include milk (to create the perfect texture) and vanilla (for simple, crowd-pleasing flavor).

Though vanilla is the most popular buttercream flavor, it's also commonly found in chocolate or fruit-flavored varieties. Food coloring is also added for aesthetic purposes.

Use buttercream as a frosting, decoration, or filling. Spread buttercream over cake layers, dollop it onto cupcakes, or create decorative patterns with a piping bag.

Ingredients

½ cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

1 ½ teaspoons pure vanilla extract

2 tablespoons milk

3 drops food coloring, or as needed (Optional)

Black Forest Cake

Bake a Sweet Black Forest Cake for a December to Remember!

This deliciously moist Black Forest Cake is a cut above the rest with homemade whipped cream, rich chocolate ganache, and sweet spiked cherries. Black Forest cake has multiple (usually 4) layers of chocolate sponge cake, cherries, and whipped cream.  It is frosted with whipped cream and covered with chocolate shavings and a few cherries for decoration.  Kirschwasser (cherry schnapps) is used to flavor the whipped cream.  The bottom layers of sponge cake are also brushed with Kirschwasser (cherry schnaps) to provide moisture and a little extra flavor.

Ingredients

1 box dark chocolate or devil's food cake mix (your favorite brand)

1 teaspoon red food coloring

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3 cups heavy cream or whipping cream

1/3 cup powdered sugar (confectioners')

1/4 cup Kirshwasser (Cherry Brandy), divided

1 container whipped icing (cream cheese or vanilla)

1 (21-ounce) can cherry pie filling, divided

Maraschino cherries (for garnish)

1 to 2 ounces semisweet chocolate, shaved*

Leche Flan

Who doesn't love a good, creamy Leche Flan?

Leche Flan is a dessert made-up of eggs and milk with a soft caramel on top. It resembles crème caramel and caramel custard. This delicious dessert is known throughout the world. It has been a regular item in the  menu of most restaurants because of its taste, ease in preparation and long shelf life. It can also be added as a component to build other great tasting dessert creations.

Ingredients

10 pieces eggs

1 can condensed milk (14 oz)

1 cup fresh milk or evaporated milk

1 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Panna Cotta

No food ever made it to the bottom of the hole.

Panna cotta (Italian for "cooked cream") is an Italian dessert of sweetened cream thickened with gelatin and molded. The cream may be aromatized with coffee, vanilla, or other flavorings. Panna cotta means “cooked cream” in Italian, and that's essentially what the base is—heated heavy cream (often with a little half-and-half or whole milk) mixed with gelatin powder and flavored with vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste. The mixture is then poured into ramekins or small molds and chilled.

Ingredients

⅓ cup skim milk

1 (.25 ounce) envelope unflavored gelatin

2 ½ cups heavy cream

½ cup white sugar

1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

Pancake

Fill the house with Christmas cheer by serving up platters of pancakes on Christmas morning.

Pancakes make an ideal Christmas morning breakfast that are easy to make, and great to serve with a number of accompaniments – from whipped cream and ice cream to fresh fruit and yoghurt. You can accompany your pancakes with almost anything you choose, however, we think that teaming them up with new season fruit is a great place to start. If you think you won’t have time to cook them on Christmas morning, try making up the batter the night before and leaving it in the fridge overnight.

Ingredients

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour. Great Value All-Purpose Flour, 5LB Bag.

3 ½ teaspoons baking powder.

1 tablespoon white sugar.

¼ teaspoon salt, or more to taste.

1 ¼ cups milk.

3 tablespoons butter, melted.

1 egg.

Strawberry Crepe

Make something BERRY special for your loved ones this Christmas.

These Strawberry Crepes will have you day-dreaming about them long after that final bite. Buttery, light crepes filled with a sweet and tangy, cream filling, then topped with fresh sliced strawberries are a feast for the eyes and will delight your taste buds. This recipe could easily be featured on a bistro menu, but are incredibly easy to make at home.

Ingredients

For the Crepes

4 large eggs

1 cup whole milk

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 tablespoon granulated sugar

1 cup all-purpose flour

4 tablespoons unsalted butter , divided, for pan

For the Cream Filling

8 ounces cream cheese , softened

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup cold heavy cream

1 cup powdered sugar , plus more for dusting

3 cups thinly sliced strawberries

Christmas is time for family, food, and fellowship. Wishing you nothing but the best that the season has to offer. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry!

Love, H.

[more-than-a-princess]

"Ah...perhaps I should be the lead in this particular ritual, my dark queen..." Said "ritual" was baking Christmas cookies to celebrate the season, or so Gundham assumed He...wasn't normally one for the holidays, but knowing how lackluster Sonia could be in the kitchen, he had offered his assistance in making them. "If...that is acceptable?"

Unprompted IC asks - Accepting from mutuals!

If Gundham wanted to lead the ritual, he was a bit late for that. Sonia had already taken up residence in one of the dormitory kitchens for the past hour, and it had been a busy one at that. After politely declining offers to study, or dine out, or see holiday decorations with other members of Class 77-B, Sonia had finally arrived at her goal: an empty student kitchen with no one to bar her from it.

This year, the princess had decided, would be the year. The year that she'd finally be able to offer Christmas biscuits and chewy cookies to her family without the immediate reaction to throw them away and let the Castle kitchens handle all manner of sweets. When they were necessary, that is: her holiday schedule was often packed with performances, shows, formal dinners, and balls that she rarely had time for sweet treats at Novoselic Castle, Christmas and New Years aside.

Gundham, however, had interrupted her at a rather inconvenient time: Sonia had managed to tie back her long hair and tie on a pale blue apron over the front of her dress, but the rest of her was a bit of a mess. She'd looked up as he'd entered, holding a piping bag as she added icing to a raw biscuit. A raw sugar biscuit, or so the recipe she'd attempted to follow had indicated: she would be adding the green icing to her evergreen tree-shaped biscuits before putting them in the oven. Beside the tray of trees, she'd arranged ingredients for two different types of cookies: one of them, considering the jar of raspberry jam beside the mixing bowl, would be filled with fruit while the other empty bowl had a small dish of shaved chocolate beside it.

Well, it was mostly in the dish. Some of it had ended up on Sonia's hands, her cheek, and just above the tip of her nose. Excess sugar, flour, and butter also adorned her hands, lower arms, and face, though most of the ingredients seemed to have made it to their proper bowls.

"Tanaka-san, I'm so pleased to see you!" She beamed, holding up her baking tray of raw shapes already adorned with icing. "I did not know you enjoyed baking, but if you'd like to bake with me I would welcome your company. I'm baking seasonal biscuits before I go home next week, you see."

She nodded to the other bowls, which she'd start making once the first two trays were in the oven. She'd turned it on and, since the biscuits needed to be cooked through, had put it on a high setting. Setting down the tray and wiping her palms on the front of her apron, she tried to ignore the fact she'd made a rather sizeable mess in the kitchen. And that she was likely flushed, if not a bit harried, with some of her blonde strands freeing themselves from her ponytail. She had yet to notice the amount of batter and ingredients that had migrated elsewhere.

"I was feeling rather sad that I wouldn't be able to spend the entirety of the season here in Japan," She explained: unlike the rest of her Class 77-B friends, who would be in school until Hope's Peak officially let out for the holiday, Sonia had to return home almost three weeks in advance due to royal duties. "But I'm determined to surprise my family this year with Christmas biscuits! They have forbidden me from entering a kitchen without a supervising presence, but they don't have such authority here. So it's sugar biscuits, spitzbuben in the shape of round ornaments," She gestured to the jar of jam, "and basler brunsli, which I'll be doing with the shaved chocolate, almonds, and cinnamon."

She paused, reaching into the small dish of shaved chocolate for a piece. She held it out to him with a smile. "Would you like to try the chocolate?" She inquired, "It's from my country. We prize our chocolate-making abilities quite highly: tourists seem to adore it, too."

[kurogane-redfox]

"Happy Birthday, Gajeel. I know you don't really celebrate your birthday, so I didn't want to make a big deal of it...but I still wanted to do something, so I made you a dark chocolate cake, laced the batter with iron powder, and then added iron and dark chocolate shavings to the frosting."

Lucy smiled softly as she stood on his front porch, holding a decorated box in front of her with said cake inside. She knew he didn't want a big party or anything, so she hadn't said anything to the rest of the guild (that way if there was some huge party thrown later, it wouldn't be her fault). But she wasn't willing to do NOTHING for his birthday either, so she'd settled for baking him a cake that he would hopefully enjoy.

It's Gajeel's Birthday | Accepting

Smelling Lucy long before he even opened his front door, Gajeel would purse his lips. He wasn't wearing his coat being that he'd been lounging on his couch enjoying his solitude. That's not to say he wasn't glad to see her. She was, by far, one of the few people he could stand in Fairy Tail.

"Ya didn't have to do that for me, Princess,"

He was still thankful, which would be made clear the moment his large frame stepped to the side to allow the blonde to enter his house. She'd not been inside it before but he wasn't going to take the decorated box from her unless she came inside.

"So, what possessed ya to make me a fuckin' cake anyway? Is that dark chocolate I smell... and iron? Damn yer good aren't ya?"

He really hoped that there was no party being planned. He wasn't interested in forcing himself to be around everyone when he could barely stand most of the members. Sure, he was friends with some but not all of them and he got along with very few. Being around them was one thing but being forced to celebrate the day of his birth around people who would probably be talking about how he didn't deserve a celebration was a whole different story.

"Come have a drink with me and I'll have a piece of the cake ya made me, okay?"

[empirelomo]

Bailey whipped cream recipe

However, the egg mixture might turn quite thin. It is possible to use half and half/single cream or milk instead of heavy cream. Store-bought liquor can be substituted with homemade Irish cream. Use brioche or challah instead of white bread. Why not serve Baileys French toast with Irish coffee or Baileys hot chocolate on St. Pair it with one of these warm Irish beverages: Some of the savory extras/sides that you might like are scrambled eggs, sausages, or bacon. Baileys whipped cream – the recipe is part of the recipe card.Syrup – chocolate, caramel, strawberry,….Fruit compote – simmer fruits with a little sugar, add some butter and a splash of lemon juice.Fresh fruits or berries – use anything you like or have on hand.Spatula – so you can turn French toast over easily Griddle (preferred option & easier) or frying pan (non-stick is a must) First, check if it is large enough to fit a slice of bread in.įork or whisk – to combine all the French toast batter ingredients. Tools needed to make Baileys Irish cream French toastĭeep plate – for the egg mixture. Irish cream French toast served with baileys whipped cream makes a decadent dessert! Patrick’s day, surprise your spouse on a Sunday morning… Make it for breakfast or brunch, for Mother’s day, St. Topped with Baileys whipped cream and berries this tasty breakfast is hard to say no to! Make sure to follow us on Instagram and Pinterest for more recipes like this.Lightly boozy Baileys French toast is the perfect adult treat for any occasion. I like mine with just the 2 ounces of Bailey’s Irish Cream :). Optional – If you want to make your drink a little stronger you can add 1 ounce of Irish whiskey. Serve and enjoy! This is optional but I highly recommend it! Use your favorite homemade or store bought whipped cream to top the coffee. Pour it into the coffee and mix to combine. Leave a little room in the mug for the Baileys Irish cream. Pour the coffee into your favorite mug when ready. Flavored coffees can change the flavor of the cocktail. You can use regular, flavored, bold, or any that is your favorite. Irish coffee comes together very quickly. But you will often see it added to speciality drinks, such as Irish coffee, cakes, ice cream, and other treats. You can serve Baileys on its own over ice. It has a partially sweet, chocolatey flavor. I highly recommend brown sugar for this drink!īaileys Irish cream is a combination of cream and Irish whiskey. If regular coffee is too bitter for you, you can add some sugar to the coffee before putting the cream on top. If so you can add some Irish whiskey such as Jameson. Irish Whiskey (optional) – Some people like to make the drink a little stronger (2 ounces of Bailey’s is enough for me :)).Shaved dark or milk chocolate (optional) – The chocolate makes the cocktail look nice, but you can omit it if you prefer.Whipped cream (optional) – The original Irish coffee also used a lightly whipped cream on top of the hot cocktail.Baileys Irish Cream – There really is no substitute for Bailey’s.Hot brewed coffee – Pick your favorite coffee, but a regular blend works well.For garnish, you can add shaved dark or milk chocolate. Just like the original Irish coffee, you only need a few ingredients. So he added whiskey and unwittingly created the Irish coffee cocktail now famous today. Irish coffee came about because the chef at the terminal thought that coffee wasn’t enough to warm the passengers of a flight that got turned around. Because they could not fly above bad weather, if a storm occurred, they often had to turn back or risk crashing in the storm. They took off and landed on water and could only fly at low altitudes because they were not pressurized. A chef at a flying boat terminal in Ireland invented the drink when he wanted a way to help warm up returning passengers from a failed flight across the Atlantic.įlying boats were large precursors to modern airplanes. The story of Irish coffee actually dates back to 1943. Thank you! Why is it called Irish Coffee? That means if you click on a link and make a purchase we may receive a small commission. Note: This post may contain affiliate links. You’ll love making this easy cocktail at home! Patrick’s Day treat that you can enjoy while the kids chow down on leprechaun cookies. Irish coffee combines a caffeinated cup of Joe with a shot of creamy liqueur for a perfectly creamy, dreamy coffee that makes the perfect cocktail to serve with dessert on a chilly night and pairs particularly well with chocolate desserts. Our cinnamon coffee is an everyday favorite but sometimes you need a little something extra. Bailey’s Irish coffee is a classic spiked coffee drink that combines Irish creme liqueur with hot coffee.

[dreamgrlarchive]

Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub: 

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

[ameliora-j]

what a lie // ts x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: angst, smut, mcd, blood, mention of injury, nipple play, pull out method (pls don’t use this irl), pregnancy mention

a/n: this is only half proofread but as always, lmk if i missed any warnings pls. italics is a flashback :)

“you’ll be okay, little dove,” thor whispered as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“we’ll all be okay, y/n,” steve added, accompanied by a hiccup and a small sniffle from his spot next to you. you could no longer contain the loud sob that raked your body as you set down the flower reef that held your fiance’s arc reactor in the center and read: proof that tony stark has a heart.

the blonde super soldier pulled you into his chest and allowed you to harshly sob into his suit coat. tony was your forever. and he just got ripped away from you.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

you walked into the grandiose building called “stark industries” one--very sunny--monday morning. you went to the desk and were greeted with a very pretty blonde woman. “can i help you?” she asked you.

“yeah i um... have a meeting with tony stark. he... he told me to come and meet him here,” you stuttered shyly. 

“ah, you must be y/n,” you nodded and she offered you a smile, leading you into tony’s office. that day, he hired you as his personal assistant. however, at the time, you had no idea what was to come of that one fateful day.

in the coming weeks as tony’s assistant, you picked up his coffee, and scheduled his press conferences, and answered e-mails, and scheduled his meetings, and answered the phone. in that time, you had also become closer to the man you called your boss. you might even go as far as to call the two of you friends.

tony was really funny. whether it was intentionally or not. he told a lot of jokes, and he was nothing like the media painted him out to be. he was nice and caring. he was also very attentive. he stopped turning the ac so high when he noticed that you would always bring a jacket into the office, and he kept little candies laying around for your sweet tooth, and he always had your favorite pack of pens delivered weekly because you were always losing your’s and stealing his. he even let you sign all of his important documents with your pretty, purple glittery pens because he knew you liked them the best. 

not to mention, tony bought you a whole set of y/f/c office supplies for your desk after you called his decoration “bland and boring.” everyday working for mr. stark was a brand new adventure and you absolutely couldn’t wait to see what the future held for you at stark industries.

you learned a lot about tony while you were working. you were the first person that he revealed his identity as iron man to. you, of course, freaked out, lecturing him on safety and being careful while fighting literal aliens, all while he chuckles and assured you that he was fine. one night--or early morning is a better term for it--there was a knock on your window. when you checked your bedside clock, the numbers “2:23″ flashed across it in bright red. when you looked over to the window, you noticed tony in the iron man suit, floating outside of your window.

“what the hell stark?! it’s half past two in the morning!” you complained as you opened the window and allowed him in. he grumbled loudly as he took off the suit and stumbled his way into your bathroom. he ignored you as you flung a million and two questions in his direction. untill finally, you noticed the blood running down the left side of his face. “what the hell!” you exclaimed before leading him to sit down on your toilet seat. you took the small first aid kit from underneath your bathroom sink and began to clean him up while simultaneously muttering what an idiot he was and how he could have been killed.

once you were all finished, you looked down at him. you had seen tony monday through friday for ten hours a day and sometimes on weekends if he had a press conference on a saturday or needed you to come in quickly and do something on a sunday, but this was the first time that you had truly noticed him. cuts and scrapes and bruises over his face, his hair sweaty and some falling into his eyes. those eyes... pretty, brown, and tired. the way that his facial hair had begun to grow on his jaw as a result of not shaving that morning. tony stark was gorgeous... ethereal even. you knew your boss was an attractive man, the media said it every day. hell, your boss said it himself every day. but now, actually looking at him, you saw it. you truly saw it, anthony howard stark was quite possibly the prettiest man you had ever laid your eyes upon. 

you and tony sat in silence. it was in that silence that you realized your current position. the only thing donning your body was a very short pair of black sleep shorts that really didn’t cover much and a black tank top with no bra. you were standing above tony, straddling his left thigh and your faces were mere centimeters apart. the silence was long and loud as you stared, unblinking, into each other’s eyes. it was a hairs breath of a second when tony’s eyes flicked from your’s to your lips, and then back up before he was hungrily pressing his lips to your’s.

the kiss was nothing but the clashing of teeth and tongues. it had you moaning into his mouth as he stood and quickly pushed you against your bathroom counter. he wasted no time as he quickly rid the both of you of your clothes. “you have protection?” he asked from his place, sucking dark hickies into every inch of your neck.

“just pull out, please i want it,” you whimpered as you tugged on his chocolate locks. your whimpers and begs were all the encouragement the man needed as he pushed his cock into you, making you release a loud moan.

the way tony fucked you was a stark (no pun intended) contrast to the way he kissed you. his thrusts were slow and deliberate, hitting spots you never even knew existed, while his kisses were rough and hungry. “feel so good wrapped around me, princess. fuck,” tony moaned into your mouth.

“fuck, tony please. more. give me more,” you whined, causing him to chuckle as his lips traveled down, sucking your nipple into his mouth as his hand came up and twisted and tugged the other one. “feels so good. ‘s so big,” you whimpered as he fucked his cock into you even harder. he moaned at your praise as his teeth scraped across your sensitive nipple before he pulled off of it with a small ‘pop’ and began giving the same attention to the other one.

“always knew your little pussy was made for my cock, princess. knew it from the day you stepped into my office. looking all innocent, just begging me to bend you over my desk and make you mine,” you moaned loudly at this, causing him to smirk. “that what you want? come on, use your words, princess.”

“wanna be your’s. make me your’s tony please. want you to corrupt me. ruin me for anyone else’s cock.” you whined out pathetically as the head of his cock abused your gspot.

“who’s pussy is this?” he asked as he began to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit.

“your’s. your’s ‘s your’s please let me cum,” you whimpered as you arched into him. 

“cum on my cock princess, go ahead,” that’s all it took for you to cum with a loud shriek of his name. he continued his assault on your clit to fuck you through your orgasm as he pulled out and used his free hand to stroke his cock untill he came with a groan of your name, all over your stomach.

that night, after tony took care of you and made sure you peed and were cleaned up, as he pulled you into his chest, you whispered, “can i really be your’s?” 

“you can be mine forever if you want princess.” you fell asleep with a wide smile on your face.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

you stayed at the lake after all the avengers had left. you sat against the tree with your left hand on your stomach, staring down at the large ring that tony presented you with just days before going to fight on titan. the one that was supposed to symbolize forever. the one that made tony stark your official future husband. 

“i’m pregnant tony...” you whispered as the tears collected on your waterline. “you promised forever. you promised that everything was going to be okay five years ago,” you took a deep breath as you rubbed the small, three month bump that was forming. “what a lie that was.”

how the hell were you going to raise a baby by yourself. how were you supposed to go on without your other half? how were you supposed to heal your heart? your baby would never know how amazing their father was. and your husband would never know how amazing his baby was. it still didn’t feel real. it never would feel real.

but you would figure it out. after all... you were a stark now. and stark’s are nothing if not strong-willed.

[tohruhondaismydaughter]

Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

[ohhicas]

hey I got bored at work and made a KH Cafe ‘Menu’ but entirely Org13 themed some are suppose to be the ‘main’ things while the others are me panicking and like “WELL, SHIT,” throwing ideas out against the wall

all for funsies cause im fully aware these won’t look cute on a plate, but hey. it’s the org. they’re the edgy emo kids.

Xemnas:  

   Meal: Hayashi rice with pickled ginger on the side and the cream swirl. The rice is dyed yellow and in the molded to the shape of a heart. Complimentary clear red chopsticks come with the meal.    Drink: Shaken espresso served in a martini glass. Lightly flavored with vanilla and a cinnamon sugar lip    Dessert: Affogato with vanilla ice cream, cinnamon sugar dusting, and shaved chocolate. An acrylic of his weapon (however hard it is to make two laser swords look cool) comes laying against the serving plate.

Xigbar:  

   Meal: Pumpernickel, cream cheese, and salmon half-sandwich. Side of a spicy cucumber salad and toothpick skewered tomatoes. The acrylic of the arrow gun is attached to a toothpick, which is holding the sandwich closed.    Drink: Black peppercorn infused blackberry syrup with club soda. Served not stirred for layering effect. Comes with an acrylic of his arrowgun attached to the stir-stick       Dessert: Two slices of roll cake, chocolate outside with an anko cream filling. Plated so they're half laying on each other with a thick chocolate drizzle going across the left side of both cakes. The plate is dotted with whipped cream with a fanned strawberry leaning against it. 

 Xaldin:    

   Meal: Chicken omurice with three strips of seaweed across the egg. Comes with three mixed skewered vegetables on a small bed of lettuce.    Drink: A delicately layered drink with blackberry puree at the base, a rose jelly and syrup layer,  and carefully topped with soymilk. Stirring with the provided berry skewer on a themed Xaldin lance stick will blend the flavors.    Dessert: A single slice of a dense chocolate cake with edible, dried rose petals. It’s more of a torte than a true ‘cake’, and has three blackberry glaze drizzle stripes across the slice.

 Vexen:    

   Meal: A small bowl of cold cucumber soup with four cream cheese tea sandwiches. Each tea sandwich has two to three small heart-cut pink radish across the top.    Drink: Blue cream soda carefully layered to fade to clear on top. It’s topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and some white snowflake shaped sprinkles.    Dessert: Two scoops of coconut flavored ice cream dressed up with whipped cream and coconut shavings. The ice cream balls have a stripe of strawberry preserve and a few dots of mango to pose as buttons to theme it like a snowman. An acrylic standee of his Snowman shield is stuck in the whipped cream

Lexaeus:  

   Meal: Curry plate with chicken katsu cutlet. Instead of laying on a bed of rice, the chicken lays against side vegetables with the rice is shaped into a mound, placed center of the curry. An acrylic image of Lexaeus's skysplitter is placed into the rice, handle sticking up.    Drink: Hot orange spice tea. Nothing too special, but there is a slice of orange pressed to the bottom of the shallow cup that can be eaten after, if you’re in to warm fruit.    Dessert: A caramel cake baked in a rock shaped mold. It sits on a bed of five banana slices and drizzled with caramel sauce. A few dark brown and orange candy chocolate rocks are also scattered around the base.

 Zexion:    

   Meal: An open face sandwich on toast, layered with lettuce, cheese, and ham. The top of the ham is decorated with the Organization's logo in mayonnaise. Comes with leafy side salad and fruit.    Drink: Blueberry fruit syrup layered with club soda and edible pearl powder to give the drink an illusionist shimmer. Topped with just enough cream to reach the top of the glass and a dusting of dried blueberry powder.    Dessert: Six small shortbread cookies decorated in icing fondant to look like the cover of his book. Served with dipping chocolate. Comes with an acrylic souvenir of his book.

 Saix:  

   Meal: Hamburg steak plate with a decorative X shape of mayo across the sauced top, served on a small bed of rice. Comes with a side salad of mixed vegetables and crescent moons of baked kabocha squash. An acrylic of the Claymore is pressed into the center of the steak as if it was slammed in.    Drink: Lavender syrup mixed with American lemonade only until the drink resembles a light grey color rather than a heavy lean into yellow or purple. Decorated with a lemon slice cut to resemble a moon.    Dessert: Dome mousse cake with a deep blue finish. The mousse is lightly lemon flavored with a center of blueberry jam, and resting upon a vanilla cake base. The cake is decorated with a fondant crescent moon and a dusted golden X. Comes with a candied lemon wedge.

 Axel:  

   Meal: A slice of pepperoni pizza, piled high with small cupping pepperoni, and dusted with chili flake. A side of a tossed, leafy salad is provided to help cut through the heat. A chakram acrylic comes attached to the salad, skewering a tomato wedge.    Drink: Tomato juice and beet juice layered together to make a light gradient-- heavier on the tomato than the beet. Top is sprinkled with cayenne for a little bit of an added kick. Decorate with a small celery leaf.    Dessert: A blood orange flavored cake, square cut and layered into three small tiers with raw edge sides. The top is sugar crusted and crisped in a brulee, with a sun fondant decoration wedged into a few peaks of cream. A twist of candied orange is also placed as decoration

 Demyx:  

   Meal: Small dish of seafood doria with a side of green vegetable to cut through the heavy dish. No broccoli is in the doria itself, and is instead decorating the side leafy salad. An acrylic of his sitar is laid across the salad.    Drink: A tall glass with a clear, bubbly ramune flavored soda. Blue soda-candy jelly is at the base. It’s served cream soda style, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream balanced at the top and a long blue straw.    Dessert: A raindrop cake with a soft blue-green gradient. The top is dusted with kinako powder. For how simple the dish is, it comes with a side of seasonal fruit and a plastic spork styled at the top to resemble his sitar's handle that you can take home.

Luxord:  

   Meal: Caprese bites on a bed of lettuce. The cheese and basil base remains the same for each, but the cherry tomato on top varies between a bright red tomato or a dark purple skinned tomato. The salad has a balsamic drizzle and card suits cut vegetables.    Drink: An espresso served with a small container of cream and two sugar cubes, chocolate-dotted to be dice.    Dessert: Chocolate lava cake with a deep red filling, dusted with powdered sugar. It's served alongside thin cookies decorated into playing cards. It can be turned into a meal set with the drink option. 

 Marluxia:  

   Meal: Salad full of mixed greens and colorful radish. Designed to be incredibly colorful, it’s got a few little blooms of edible flowers wedged around the plate. Comes with a few flower shaped breaded chicken ‘nuggets’ along the rim.    Drink: Rose syrup infused sparkling lemon soda, decorated with dried rose petals. There’s the smallest bit of strawberry syrup at the bottom of the cup to really make a pink color. A wedge of lemon decorates the rim.    Dessert: A thin, crisp almost crepelike shell in a low dish holds mixed berries, mint, and thick soft chunks of pound cake. The whole thing is drizzled with a sweet rose syrup. An acrylic of his scythe hangs out among the cake bits.

 Larxene:  

   Meal: Two skewers of karaage laying on a bed of cabbage with tartar sauce and two wedges of lemon. The other side of the plate has fries with a bit of mustard drizzled across the tips.    Drink: Layered cream soda, blue syrup at the bottom that fades into a pale yellow. It's topped with whipped cream and comes with sour popping candy meant to be mixed into the drink to activate the light carbonation. Comes with an acrylic charm of one of her daggers.    Dessert: Shaved ice with yuzu and orange drizzle. It’s a stretch to include it under the Larxene umbrella, but the sour notes should bring forth thoughts of lightning and shocks.

Roxas & Xion:

   Meal: Roxas and Xion share the same half sandwich, as if it was once part of a whole sandwich and split into two meal plates. They differ in that Xion gets a side leafy salad with radish and carrot, and Roxas gets french fries. [ and then i gave up makin them desserts & drinks, since they have the seasalt milk ‘drink’ at the actual cafe ]

[if-music-be-the-food-of-love]

Loving the Alien

Just a little oneshot I wrote because Herbots grew a beard this summer, and thus Robbe did too. Rated T. Cross posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading it there. -> Link

***

“I honestly don’t know what to think about this,” Sander said, leaning on the door jamb, his eyes focused on Robbe’s face.

“Then don’t. Easy,” Robbe replied with a shrug and a wink. He took a green bottle from the cabinet above the sink and set it on the counter before pulling a razor and a pair of scissors out of a drawer. He set them next to the bottle and then turned to face Sander, arms crossed, his hip leaning against the counter. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Sander dropped his gaze, smiling secretly at the floor, and sighed dramatically. “I just can’t decide. That’s the problem.”

“Sander, you can’t decide what?” Robbe asked, rolling his eyes, but Sander could tell he was only partially exasperated. His dark chocolate eyes shone with curiosity, and he now gazed at Sander expectantly.

Lips twitching, he took two steps forward and cupped Robbe’s furry, though somehow still soft, cheeks in his hands. He pressed the barest whisper of a kiss to his lips, and then resting his forehead against Robbe’s, he murmured, “I can’t decide whether you’re hotter with this beard or clean shaven. It’s a real problem.”

Robbe snorted, and his whole body convulsed forward. His forehead clipped Sander’s jaw, and he stepped back, a little giggle escaping from his lips. “Really, San? That’s your problem?”

Sander pushed back the curtain of russet waves that had fallen into Robbe’s face, and shrugged, saying mock seriously, “It’s a legitimate dilemma, Robin. Put yourself in my shoes. Your boyfriend is hot as hell, and then he goes and grows a beard over vacation. Suddenly he’s even hotter--something you didn’t think was possible by the way--and you don’t know what to do with yourself.” He gave Robbe a pointed look. “I seriously had to control myself in public, and it was not easy.”  

Robbe rolled his eyes again and opened his mouth to interrupt, but Sander placed a finger across his lips.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “I just look at you, and you’re so fucking sexy that I can’t breathe. I literally have to stop and remind myself to inhale. I thought that was some stupid cliche in books, but no. Of course it’s real, and of course it would happen to me. Because of you. And then you grew this fucking beard...and I don’t think I’ve been able to think straight since.”

Robbe removed Sander’s hand and kissed his knuckles before holding it between his own. “I don’t think you were exactly thinking straight before,” he teased. “That would kind of defeat the purpose.”

Sander couldn’t help himself. A barking laugh burst out of his mouth, and he shook his head. “Well, if you’re going to go there. I haven’t had a straight thought since we met.” 

“Good,” Robbe said, pecking his lips lightly. “You may continue flattering me.”

“No, I’m done. Your head is big enough.” Sander crossed his arms and shrugged, leaning against the sink opposite Robbe. “If you’re not going to take my suffering seriously--”

“Suffering my ass!” Robbe scoffed, giving him a playful shove.

Sander grinned. “Yes, suffering. To know how hot you are both ways and to only be able to experience one at a time. Absolute torture. Seriously unfair. You should be ashamed of yourself, causing me all this pain.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“You-- The fuck, Sander, you--” Robbe smooshed his hand into Sander’s face, pushing him back as he rotated his wrist. Sander’s head rocked side to side, and he couldn’t help grinning, watching Robbe grasp for words.

“Gah! You--” Robbe continued to sputter, “Dork. You absolute dramatic, soppy dork. Oh my God, if people knew...I don’t think they’d believe me if I told them. No one. You want unfair? That’s unfair. You walk around looking all mysterious and aloof when you’re really just the cheesiest romantic ever.”

“Hmm.” Sander tilted his head to shake Robbe’s hand off, and then, placing his hands at Robbe’s waist, he tugged him in, capturing his mouth in a hard, fast kiss. His lips traveled to Robbe’s ear, leaving a few light kisses across his cheek, and he whispered huskily, “That all sounds very accurate, and you’re right no one would believe you.” He bit Robbe’s earlobe, briefly tonguing the small hoop earring. Robbe squealed and pushed him back, panting to catch his breath, eyes glaring.

Feeling very pleased with himself, Sander leaned back against the counter, saying coolly, “I still don’t know how I feel about you shaving it off. It’s grown on me. At first, I thought a chipmunk had moved onto your face, but now…”

“A chipmunk!” Robbe squawked indignantly.  “Weren’t you just waxing poetic about how sexy you thought it was? And anyway," he quirked an eyebrow, "I can’t put myself in your shoes." Using his best talking to a baby voice, he explained with pursed lips, "This adorable, sweet, baby face,” he pinched Sander’s cheek and then followed it with a light smack, “can’t grow a beard. I think you’re just jealous.”

“Hey!” Sander cried, swatting his hand away. “I happen to enjoy not having to shave all the time.”

Robbe took his hand and pulled him closer, kissing his shoulder. “And I enjoyed not having to shave this summer. But now, I’m tired of it, so it has to go.”

Sander wrapped both arms around Robbe and put on his best pout, eyes sad and pleading, bottom lip sticking out.   

Robbe laughed, slipping his hands into Sander’s back pockets. He gave Sander’s ass a squeeze and hugged him tighter. “You’re ridiculous.” He lifted up onto his toes and bit Sander’s thrust out lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it slide out between his teeth. He let go with a ‘pop,’ and then wiggling his hips suggestively against Sander’s, he added, “If I shave, then you know what will happen?” He swayed them side to side, slowly, teasingly, hips pressing harder into Sander. One hand slid up Sander’s back, disappearing into his hair. He pulled Sander’s head down and kissed him, lingeringly, lips soft, tongue searching, slow and deep. 

Sander practically melted into his arms, his limbs turning to jello at the mere suggestion of Robbe’s hips, at the taste of his lips, his tongue. Robbe’s beard brushed softly against his cheeks and prickled the edges of his mouth. He was going to miss this, the delicious dichotomy of the longer soft hairs on his cheeks that tickled his skin and the shorter ones around his mouth that poked him and caught him off guard. He lifted his hands to Robbe’s cheeks and rubbed his palms up and down as they kissed, reveling in the scratch, the drag making his hands tingle. This was nice.

Robbe’s lips moved to his neck, and Sander took the opportunity to nuzzle his cheek and nose into the whiskers at Robbe’s jaw. They tickled and tingled, sending bolts of electricity to his toes. This was very nice.

Robbe’s lips traveled up his neck, the stubble leaving a burning trail that contrasted with his wet, open-mouthed kisses. So nice. This was so nice. It was such a different experience, so many different sensations. He was really going to miss this.

Robbe hugged him even closer, bending himself backwards, and then murmured into his jaw, “If I shave, I’ll have my 10:00 five o’clock shadow again, and I know how much you like that.”

It took Sander a moment to process his words, so overwhelmed by his hands and body and kisses, but when it registered, he stood tall abruptly, pulling out of Robbe’s embrace. “Done!” Sander loved the bare whisper of stubble on Robbe’s face, the dark shadow that heightened his features and made him look dead sexy. He could sacrifice the beard to have that back. Yes he could. He waved his arms vaguely at the razor, and said, “You have my permission.”

Robbe stood still, momentarily stunned, and then he burst into motion, laughing hysterically and falling forward to brace his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Fuck, Sander. You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Don’t blame me. You knew exactly what you were doing. Kissing me like that. Then exploiting my weakness for your permanent five o'clock shadow. You have no one else to blame,” he said, crossing his arms with a smug expression.

“You know,” Robbe said, coming forward and poking him in the chest, “I don’t need your permission. It’s my face.” 

“No, you don’t,” he agreed, an adoring smile lifting his lips. “Can I say goodbye first?”

Robbe's expression softened immediately. He raised his eyebrows, clearly perplexed, and nodded, “Sure.”

Lifting his hands to Robbe’s cheeks, he gently stroked the longer hairs on his jaw with his fingers, curling them to trace his knuckles up and down and then opening them to feel it one last time on his palms. It felt both familiar and alien, both soft and rough. It had been a totally new sensation, kissing and touching Robbe this summer, a joy he hadn’t known he wanted, and soon it would be gone. He leaned forward and lightly brushed his cheek against Robbe’s and then tucked his chin to rub his forehead all over Robbe’s face, making him giggle again. He kissed both cheeks and left one more light peck on his lips. “Okay. I’m done. You may proceed.”

Robbe’s eyes remained closed for a moment longer, his chin lifted as if chasing Sander’s lips. Slowly blinking his eyes open, voice coarse, he said, “I almost don’t want to now.”

Sander’s eyes shot up from where they had lingered on his mouth, immediately zeroing in on Robbe’s teasing gaze. Then it was his turn to roll his eyes. He fluffed Robbe’s wild hair and said, “But you’re still going to.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. It’s starting to itch.” He sighed, scratching his chin for effect. Then his demeanor changed, and he looked up at Sander from underneath his lashes, eyes dark and suggestive. “But don’t worry. I can grow it back any time, and then you can feel me up all you want.” He paused, delightedly watching Sander squirm before him, as he knew he would (sometimes being so predictable and completely at the mercy of one’s boyfriend was incredibly unfair). Robbe blew him a quick kiss and then followed it by poking his chest again and adding, “Unlike you.”

“Fuck you!” He brushed at Robbe’s hand.

“Later, baby,” Robbe said with a wink, and then he rose up to give him one last kiss. He patted Sander’s cheek playfully and said, “I love your doofy, soft, baby face. It’s perfect. Now go!” He turned Sander around and gave his ass a light smack before shoving him out of the door.

“I’m not entirely sure that was a compliment,” Sander called back over his shoulder. He could just see Robbe grinning at him as he pulled his hair out of his face into a bun. Holy fuck, he was hot! The beard was one thing, but if Robbe ever wanted to cut his hair short, Sander was prepared to stage a full-on revolt. He would mutiny. He loved Robbe’s wild, wavy locks. No matter how he styled his hair, it always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and Sander adored the sleep rumpled look. He was particularly fond of it when it was actually in bed, scattered across a pillow, but the fact that he could see it all day long was a bonus. Yes, Robbe’s hair was a treasure, and he’d use every tool in his arsenal to protect it, including guilt and begging, if necessary.

The beard could go. He’d save his energy to fight the real battle if and when it happened.  

 Sander had only just settled on a playlist to listen to while he scrolled through his phone when Robbe called him back to the bathroom. That was quick!

He pocketed his phone, leaving the music on, and trekked across the room.  “Done already?” he asked, walking straight in.

“Nope,” Robbe said, turning to face him with a broad grin and excited eyes. “What do you think?”

It took Sander a few moments to process what he saw. His first thought was that Robbe hadn’t even started because he still had whiskers, but then he noticed that Robbe’s cheeks were smooth and that his mouth now sported an oval-shaped goatee. “Wha--?”

Robbe snorted and rested his hand on the counter for balance. “Looks ridiculous, right?”

“Uhh...err...hmmm…” Sander struggled to respond coherently. He didn’t know how he felt about the goatee. It was definitely weird. It was Robbe’s face, his Robbe’s face, but he didn’t look right. Was it creepy or just new? He settled on, “Makes you look older.”

Robbe inspected his face in the mirror. “Maybe I do look older.” He winked at Sander's reflection and said, “We have established that you like older men, so I don’t think this is a problem.”

“Uhhh,” Sander grunted, brain misfiring. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Uh, you’re not...you’re not keeping it, right?” He met Robbe’s gaze in the mirror. “Right?”

Laughing again, he elbowed Sander lightly in the stomach and said, “Of course not! I just thought it would be fun to see what I looked like with a goatee.”

Sander exhaled, relief pouring out of him. He loved Robbe no matter what, but the goatee was too much too fast. The beard had grown on him gradually. The goatee was just...disturbing. “Good,” was all he said.

Robbe met his gaze in the mirror, a knowing look in his eyes. “You hate it.” 

He hesitated, “It’s...different.”

Robbe turned around, leaning back on the counter. “You hate it,” he insisted.

Sander sighed, “I hate it.”

“Well, now we know. No goatee,” he said, pecking Sander’s lips and then shoving him back out the door. “On to part two.”

Rolling his eyes, Sander asked, “Should I even leave at this point?”

“Yes!” he said emphatically.

“Fine. See you in three seconds.” He waved over his shoulder and headed back to the couch, pulling out his phone on the way.

It was significantly more than three seconds later when Robbe called him back. He walked into the bathroom with one hand over his eyes, asking, “Should I even look?”

“Hell yes! Sa-an, this is hilarious.”

Sander peeked through his fingers and immediately dropped his hand in shock. “No. No. No. Nope. No way. Absolutely not. No.” He waved his hands like a referee and shook his head for emphasis.

Robbe had a mustache. A creepy, crawly caterpillar mustache, sitting above his lip. It wasn’t a full mustache, more like a swath of hairs sticking out every which way in the general shape of a mustache, but Sander didn’t think more shaping would improve the effect. It creeped him out on a visceral level. 

“What?” Robbe asked, feigning ignorance. “Freddie Mercury had a mustache.”

Sander coughed and cringed. “Yeah, in the eighties, and I would say I’m a much bigger fan of his talent than anything else, especially his mustache. Much bigger. Ro-obe, get rid of that thing,” he whined.

“Wha-at?” Robbe whined back. “You don’t like it? Don’t you love me? What if I like it?”

“Don’t even pretend. I know you don’t. I love you, but it’s hideous Robbe. Absolutely not.”

Robbe cocked his head and then shrugged, smiling goofily. “You’re right. It’s awful. Now come over here and give me a kiss.” 

He reached his hands towards Sander’s face, pursing his lips into an exaggerated pucker, and Sander took an automatic step back. “Uh, uh, no. Not while that’s on your face. No kisses until it’s gone.”

Robbe stuck out his lip in a pretend pout and crossed his arms. “I should keep it just to spite you.”

“I’d shave it off in your sleep,” Sander chuckled. “Okay, let’s compromise.” He kissed Robbe’s cheek. “Now get rid of that thing, and I promise to kiss you senseless.”

“Deal,” Robbe said, but then he curled his fingers in Sander’s shirt and yanked him forward, sneaking in a surprise kiss on the lips. 

“Ble-yee-ack,” Sander sputtered, pretending to wipe the kiss off his mouth. 

Robbe cackled with glee and practically jumped up and down like an excited schoolgirl, thoroughly enjoying Sander’s disgust and dramatics. 

“Thought that was funny, hmm,” Sander huffed. Before Robbe could respond, he thrust out a hand, and pinched Robbe’s side right at his most ticklish spot. Completely caught off guard, Robbe nearly collapsed sideways. Sander caught him, but instead of setting him upright, he pinched and tickled Robbe’s other side with his other hand, causing him to lose his balance and fall against Sander in a fit of giggles. 

“You win. You win. Stop. Stooooooop.” 

Sander stilled his fingers and set Robbe back on his feet, brushing back the hairs that had fallen out of his bun. He kissed his forehead and then turned to leave. “I’ll see the less disturbing version of you in a minute.” He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. “Still love you though.” He winked and walked the few steps back to the couch, collapsing on it backwards, knees bent over the backrest.

He closed his eyes, listening to the combination of his music and Robbe puttering about in the bathroom. He smiled to himself, a feeling of warm contentment washing over him. He was so lucky, so ridiculously lucky. He loved teasing Robbe, and Robbe not only enjoyed it, he teased him right back, giving as good as he got. It felt so wonderful to completely trust another person, to completely trust his good intentions, to believe in his love, and he knew the feeling was mutual. He had the best boyfriend in the world. Facial hair or no, loving him was easy, as natural as breathing. He was so fucking lucky.

A finger poking his nose pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Robbe leaned over him, upside down at this angle, face smooth and shiny from aftershave. “Hey, sexy,” he whispered. Fuck, he was so hot.

“Hey,” Robbe repeated shyly. 

Sander rolled over and stood up, immediately pulling Robbe into a hug and thrusting his face into his neck, breathing in the familiar smell of shaving cream and aftershave mixed with soap and skin. 

He pulled back and looked Robbe over, eyes darting all over his face. “You look and smell delicious.” He ran a thumb over Robbe’s soft cheek and cupped his neck before kissing him gently on the lips.

“What was that?” Robbe asked indignantly, brown eyes glittering like a naughty imp. “You said you were going to kiss me senseless. That wasn’t even--”

He was cut off by Sander lifting him off of the ground in a bear hug. He was halfway to Robbe’s bedroom before Robbe caught on and wrapped his legs around his waist, kissing him all over his face. 

Sander finally captured his lips in a sloppy kiss right before they tumbled into bed, where he proceeded to kiss Robbe senseless, among other things.

Yeah, he had the best boyfriend ever. He could live without the beard.