Oh oh oh ajdkwnahdkske -gets super excited- May I ask for 'Slbp Masamune + catch snowflakes on the tongue?' Thanks ⭐ jeekjakdksjzod -dies-
This is my second attempt at writing this - I accidentally closed the tab when I was switching back and it erased everything and I was almost done. *weeps into coffee*
It’s the first snowfall of the season. Soft, delicate flakes fall from the sky, gathering in a blanket over the ground rocks and flora that make up Masamune’s garden. The snow must have started falling while you were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner; the green of the bamboo was still visible under the white in the light from the open kitchen door.
Enchanted, you step out from under the veranda and turn your face up to the sky, letting the snow settle on your nose and eyelashes. There is something magical about moments like this, when all sound is muffled by the heaviness of the air and everything glows, even in the deepest night, as the light reflects off the frozen crystals.
This has always been your favourite time of year. Had you been home in Kyoto, you would have been bundling Yahiko into his warmest clothes (ignoring his squawked protests of being “too old” - after all, if he was too old, then you were practically ancient) and dragging him outside to catch snowflakes on your tongue until Mother called you in to bed.
Sighing dejectedly, you turn back to go inside and see Masamune standing there, framed by the light of the open door. His eye widens as he takes in your face, and he steps down to stand in front of you, leaving new indents in the fresh coat of snow that has already filled in your own.
“Are you… crying?” he asks, hesitant, reaching out a hand to catch a bead of water on his thumb, swiping it gently across your cheek.
“Am I?” you say, reaching up to touch your face. The wetness on your cheeks is warm, too warm for melted snow. “I was just thinking about home - Yahiko and I used to love the snow. We used to have a tradition of catching the first snowfall in our tongues. We thought it would bring good luck for the rest of the winter.”
“Like this?” Masamune turns his face upwards, your eyes momentarily distracted by the long lines of his neck, before he closes his eye and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out into the air.
You can’t help but giggle at the sight of this tall, strong warlord making a face like a small child who had just eaten something they didn’t like.
Reaching out, you take Masamune’s warm hand in your cold one. “Exactly like that.”