5_sense | Taste | Parabellum
Nov. 5th, 2015 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aftanithTitle: Taste
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Wordcount: ~750
Rating: Teen
Characters: Sparrow
Prompt(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
5_sense "taste"
Notes: I'm not super satisfied with this. I love the concept, but I'm not sold on the execution. Maybe try it from a 5+1 angle? "Five Times Sparrow Ate Her Favorite Food and One She Didn't"? (Absolute shit title, by the way, but the concept's fine.) Also, I wrote it while I was literally falling asleep and parts of the first half especially are incoherent, and I'm super not interested in editing it right now.
The first time she tastes it, she's on the boardwalk with Loretta. There's a little ice cream stand, popular and busy and fuck, and she orders the popsicle because it's the first thing she sees on the menu and she wants to get out of the jostling line before she has a complete breakdown.
When she gets it and nearly runs away from the crowd, she isn't impressed; she's mostly concerned with not letting the damn thing melt on her, and her hopes aren't exactly high that it'll be a worthwhile experience. She's had ice pops before, each and every one of them a mess of overbearing fake-fruit flavors, sugar, dye, and cold sensation.
The moment it's in her mouth, she knows this is different. This is fucking amazing.
"That's... actually really good."
Loretta gives the popsicle a quick, unimpressed glance, and goes back to her sundae without a word.
Sparrow doesn't eat anything else until dinner that night, trying to keep the taste in her mouth as long as she can.
The second time Sparrow has one, she's been in the mansion's kitchen. She's looking for German--has been for an hour now--and she knows he's around there somewhere, if only because this is always where he is at this time of day. But she's almost convinced by now that he's hiding from her, and, feeling equal parts annoyed and disappointed, she gives up. For now.
Instead, she turns to the refrigerator. Food won't run from her, at least (and if it does, it's not something she wants to eat).
She finds the box as she rifles through the freezer. It's nestled in the back and shoved up against the side, and it's the massive drawing of a familiar-looking ice pop on the cardboard side that takes her mind back to the popsicle she'd had on the boardwalk. She's surprised by how much she hopes it's the same one.
It is, and as she read the box--since the hell when does 'tropical fruit punch' taste like this?--she takes it into her mouth.
"That's actually really good." It tastes even better than she remembers.
When she finally finds German an hour later, the first thing she does is ask him to tell whoever does the grocery shopping to buy more. If he gives her an odd look at the request, she pretends she doesn't notice.
The third time Sparrow eats one, she makes a mistake.
The air conditioning is on the fritz that afternoon, so she's half-naked in the summer heat that's penetrated her bedroom, and she's leaning back in her chair with her feet propped up on the dining table; Frost is sitting across from her, his attention fully captured by his tablet right up until moment she puts the ice pop in her mouth and moans.
Immediately, Frost's head snaps up, giving her a startled look.
She should probably be embarrassed, but she's about two years past giving a fuck. The treat comes out of her mouth with a tiny pop, and she shrugs, licking sticky fruit juice off her lips. "What? This tastes amazing." He keeps staring. "Seriously, try this."
She leans forward, stretching her arm across the table and holding the popsicle out to him. He's still looking at her like he thinks she's lost her mind, but he takes it nonetheless, and he brings it to his lips.
She watches him lick, then swallow, and finally shrug, and she rolls her eyes. "It's definitely a popsicle," he confirms, raising a brow at her.
She snatches it back. "It tastes amazing," she repeats, popping it back into her mouth. Six inches of frozen sugar water that tastes like heaven slides past her lips, and it takes her a second to realize why he's still staring at her.
"What?" she demands once the thing's been withdrawn again, and she's content to feign ignorance. Whatever his answer, it should be amusing.
"You seem to be enjoying it, that's all. Though, honestly, I'm starting to wonder if I should be jealous."
She gives him a little smirk. "Definitely. This is far and away the best thing I've ever had in my mouth." He's still for a moment, not reacting at all to her taunt, and isn't that annoying--and then his lips curve into a sly smile that she definitely doesn't trust. "What?"
He just keeps smiling. "Nothing, love. Feel free to go back to what you were doing, and don't mind me if I watch, hmm?"
She eyes him suspiciously for a moment, then shrugs. He's clearly up to something... but this time, she has a sneaking suspicion it's something she's going to enjoy.
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Wordcount: ~750
Rating: Teen
Characters: Sparrow
Prompt(s):
5_sense "taste"Notes: I'm not super satisfied with this. I love the concept, but I'm not sold on the execution. Maybe try it from a 5+1 angle? "Five Times Sparrow Ate Her Favorite Food and One She Didn't"? (Absolute shit title, by the way, but the concept's fine.) Also, I wrote it while I was literally falling asleep and parts of the first half especially are incoherent, and I'm super not interested in editing it right now.
The first time she tastes it, she's on the boardwalk with Loretta. There's a little ice cream stand, popular and busy and fuck, and she orders the popsicle because it's the first thing she sees on the menu and she wants to get out of the jostling line before she has a complete breakdown.
When she gets it and nearly runs away from the crowd, she isn't impressed; she's mostly concerned with not letting the damn thing melt on her, and her hopes aren't exactly high that it'll be a worthwhile experience. She's had ice pops before, each and every one of them a mess of overbearing fake-fruit flavors, sugar, dye, and cold sensation.
The moment it's in her mouth, she knows this is different. This is fucking amazing.
"That's... actually really good."
Loretta gives the popsicle a quick, unimpressed glance, and goes back to her sundae without a word.
Sparrow doesn't eat anything else until dinner that night, trying to keep the taste in her mouth as long as she can.
The second time Sparrow has one, she's been in the mansion's kitchen. She's looking for German--has been for an hour now--and she knows he's around there somewhere, if only because this is always where he is at this time of day. But she's almost convinced by now that he's hiding from her, and, feeling equal parts annoyed and disappointed, she gives up. For now.
Instead, she turns to the refrigerator. Food won't run from her, at least (and if it does, it's not something she wants to eat).
She finds the box as she rifles through the freezer. It's nestled in the back and shoved up against the side, and it's the massive drawing of a familiar-looking ice pop on the cardboard side that takes her mind back to the popsicle she'd had on the boardwalk. She's surprised by how much she hopes it's the same one.
It is, and as she read the box--since the hell when does 'tropical fruit punch' taste like this?--she takes it into her mouth.
"That's actually really good." It tastes even better than she remembers.
When she finally finds German an hour later, the first thing she does is ask him to tell whoever does the grocery shopping to buy more. If he gives her an odd look at the request, she pretends she doesn't notice.
The third time Sparrow eats one, she makes a mistake.
The air conditioning is on the fritz that afternoon, so she's half-naked in the summer heat that's penetrated her bedroom, and she's leaning back in her chair with her feet propped up on the dining table; Frost is sitting across from her, his attention fully captured by his tablet right up until moment she puts the ice pop in her mouth and moans.
Immediately, Frost's head snaps up, giving her a startled look.
She should probably be embarrassed, but she's about two years past giving a fuck. The treat comes out of her mouth with a tiny pop, and she shrugs, licking sticky fruit juice off her lips. "What? This tastes amazing." He keeps staring. "Seriously, try this."
She leans forward, stretching her arm across the table and holding the popsicle out to him. He's still looking at her like he thinks she's lost her mind, but he takes it nonetheless, and he brings it to his lips.
She watches him lick, then swallow, and finally shrug, and she rolls her eyes. "It's definitely a popsicle," he confirms, raising a brow at her.
She snatches it back. "It tastes amazing," she repeats, popping it back into her mouth. Six inches of frozen sugar water that tastes like heaven slides past her lips, and it takes her a second to realize why he's still staring at her.
"What?" she demands once the thing's been withdrawn again, and she's content to feign ignorance. Whatever his answer, it should be amusing.
"You seem to be enjoying it, that's all. Though, honestly, I'm starting to wonder if I should be jealous."
She gives him a little smirk. "Definitely. This is far and away the best thing I've ever had in my mouth." He's still for a moment, not reacting at all to her taunt, and isn't that annoying--and then his lips curve into a sly smile that she definitely doesn't trust. "What?"
He just keeps smiling. "Nothing, love. Feel free to go back to what you were doing, and don't mind me if I watch, hmm?"
She eyes him suspiciously for a moment, then shrugs. He's clearly up to something... but this time, she has a sneaking suspicion it's something she's going to enjoy.
© 2015 A.F. Tanith
