#also it reminds me of how he'd write poetry and then ask what i thought of it and then over explain it

[reginaofdoctorwho]

sorry to all my mutuals who are having to watch me get into lisa frankenstein post breakup with a guy who wanted to be the cool smart guy and while i'm getting into goth music (unrelated)

[the-dixon-effect]

When you know, you know Part 1

A/N: my first ever fic! i was excited to write this as i have only ever written poetry and short stories and i wanted to do something TWD-related and also write about bae daryl dixon.

pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

words: 1.2k

warnings: very angsty!

update: you can now find part 2 here!

The two of you sat with your backs up against the wall, simply enjoying each other's presence. Despite Daryl's familiar company, you couldn't shake the same feeling you'd had since you'd known about Leah - the same pang of jealousy, the same slight disappointment. You and Daryl were best friends, it had never gone beyond that. However, you couldn't help but imagine yourself in his arms, waking up next to him every day, hands draped around his neck, perfectly intertwined. You supposed that you two would sort of just end up together one day, and life would go on as normal, whatever that 'normal' might be.

That was all until Daryl went away, looking for Rick after he disappeared. Time seemed to go by slower without him by your side, as he always used to be. This emptiness didn't go unnoticed by you, who secretly yearned for his presence in your life again. Evenings spent together with a bottle of whiskey and warm company turned into monthly conversations over the bank of a river, and daily interactions turned into occasional letters, begging him to come home. What you hadn't thought of, however, was the possibility that he had found someone else out there, someone who took care of him in ways you couldn't, in ways you wished you could.

You sat, observing the cabin in which Daryl and Leah had shared.

"What colour was her hair?" you said, breaking the silence, with the slightest smile shaping the curve of your lips.

"... it was red. Why'd ya ask?" he said in his low tone.

"Don't know. Just tryna picture the bitch who stole my best friend," you said with a slight giggle. He smiled at this. Daryl sorely regretted leaving you and he wished that he could tell you, or make it up to you somehow.

There was silence for a moment. "What if you came back home and I was with someone else?" you began with bravery.

"What- what are ya asking me?" Daryl replied.

"What if- what if you came back and I was gone? Or dead?" He turned to look at you, hair falling over his eyes and his brows furrowed. His heart sank at the thought of losing you, but he had to say something now or else he might just lose you by ruining your relationship. Perhaps he had underestimated how much you missed him while he was gone, he didn't believe anyone was capable of missing him as much as you seemed to.

"I- I dunno. I guess I woulda blamed myself." It was his fault. Shit. It could've been his fault. The realisation that you could've died and he wasn't there to protect you suddenly clouded his thoughts, and the guilt of leaving you behind consumed him.

"But it wasn't your fault. I know how you always blame yourself, for everything, but this time, it wouldn't have been your fault, Daryl. Because you weren't there." Your eyes had glassed over, and the pit in your stomach rose again, like it had done every time over those six long years that you were reminded of Daryl's absence. You were resentful, and angry at him for leaving, you had every right to be. Maybe it wasn't that he'd left. Maybe you were simply jealous that he'd found someone better.

He'd gone quiet, and the warm atmosphere had faded. He wanted to defend himself, he wanted to defend Leah and the times they'd had together, but a part of Daryl knew he couldn't speak it out loud, not to you, anyway. Despite his fond memories of her, Leah had left him, leaving no good reason why, either. For now, he wanted to be right here with you, but he didn't want to have to explain himself, not like this. But how could you forgive him. How could you two just pick up where you left off, and expect to build your relationship from there without at least addressing the six-year-gap that was filled with only heartache and discomfort? "I missed you. I really, really missed you, Daryl. Like, I had to shape my life around this empty space that you left, for six years!" Daryl was in disbelief at your words. His heart was sinking in real time and there was nothing he could do to go and change the past. How could he have done this to you?

You couldn't meet his eyes. All the emotion that you had felt since he left was coming out and there were now tears staining your cheeks. It almost felt like he didn't care, yet you could sense he did. Daryl was never all that brilliant with words, but in this moment, they failed him completely.

"Ya mean that?" he spoke, quietly.

"What, you think I'm just saying what you wanna hear? 'Cause I don't know what you wanna hear, Daryl!" In this moment, it was like every thought you'd ever had about Daryl was going to come out, and it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself. "I never know what you wanna hear! Hell, I thought you forgot about me. So tell me, what do you wanna hear?" You looked at him, for the first time in a while. He stared back, blankly.

What you didn't know is that he felt the exact same, that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. And for the best part of six years, he wished he was at home, with you, where he should have been.

"I'm in love with you, Daryl, come home and start a family with me." You said, sarcastically, as though you were mocking the very part of you that wanted to say those things. You swiftly wiped away your tears and collected yourself.

A thought popped into his head. His eyes lingered on your face as you broke the eye-contact and looked down at your fingers, which you fiddled with for a moment before he broke the silence,

“An’ what about those times where I had to sit and watch?” he began defensively, yet still as soft as before.

“What do you mean?”

“Ya know what I mean. Shane, Aidan. When you and your little boyfriends went frolickin’ ‘bout the place like nothin’ mattered,” Daryl had remembered the times he almost felt sick to his stomach having to watch you parade about alongside your latest romantic interest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daryl.”

“Ya know what I’m talking about jus’ fine.” Oh.

Oh.

Daryl had been just as jealous as you were.

He could almost see the cogs turning in your head. He had mentioned Shane, who you had been involved with a long, long time ago. How long had Daryl felt this way?

You looked up him, at a loss for words. Such a strange feeling choked the air, and you suddenly felt a little sick. “Daryl, I’m sorry. I have to go to bed.” You got up off floor and the left the dusty living room to find yourself any space where you couldn’t feel his eyes on you from across the room. This was certainly not the way your love confession was supposed to go, you thought to yourself.

[luminouslywriting]

I'm so sorry to hear that you have to undergo surgery. As a fellow chronic illness girl, I know how that can be, and I'm sorry you're going through that. If you're still looking for things to keep your mind off it, I'd love to hear any general headcanons for the guys' interests? Just random things you think they might like that weren't specified in the show? I headcanon Buck and Brady as great cooks, for example. 😊

Nonny, thank you for your sweet message :) I so appreciate the love you're sending me! I would love to answer this ask, so more below the cut haha!! And as always, my requests are open and I love getting asks and requests from you all! Please note that this was cut for length and I kept it centered on Bucky, Buck, Rosie, and Brady!

Bucky Egan:

-This will come as no surprise to anyone, but I think he has an extensive collection of baseball cards that start from the time he was five onwards.

-I also think he really enjoys reading, specifically American Literature such as Rip Van Winkle or Tom Sawyer. He does really enjoy learning about New York as well, so he definitely has some New York memorabilia somehow.

-Board game KING. Actually, most games. He's down to play football in the dirt with his friends and he's down to play a game of checkers when the occasion calls for it.

-He strikes me as an animal person, for obvious reasons—so I think he must've had a dog back home or growing up. He definitely thought about going into some form of animal medicine before going into the military.

Buck Cleven:

-Stargazing or cloud-watching. I can't explain it, but I just know that this man has a fascination with the stars and clouds. It's a relaxing way to pass the time and it helps him center his thoughts.

-Plants?? He strikes me as a boy-scout sorta guy, so I picture he got his poisonous plant identification certification or something. He also has some favorite flowers that he likes gathering now and then.

-Science experiments. Again—this one is heavily based on the stuff we see in the show, but he collects the most RANDOM things and spare parts and will just casually build things or try to make things fit together because he likes to know how things work.

-COOKING, babe you're so right. He's a GREAT cook! Put him in front of a slab of meat though and he kinda panics. Breads? He can do it and make a recipe better than the original.

Rosie Rosenthal:

-Music history and theory; this NERD absolutely adores looking into the history of music. He knows about Brahms and Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Handel, and is able to easily memorize music and tunes.

-MOVIE BUFF. I can't explain it, but I just know that he can quote movies like there's no tomorrow and half of the time, no one even gets the reference.

-Oddly really likes reading the ads in the newspaper? He likes to see what's going on and what kind of help is needed.

-History boi with a niche for weird specific things. Like, he'd be in the middle of a conversation and he'd be like, "this reminds of when the Ottoman Empire...." or "Did you know that the Crusades were actually...."

John Brady:

-Poetry?? He really enjoys reading it, really enjoys writing it?? He strikes me as the type of man to enjoy Tennyson, Keats, or Byron

-Running; it's a really easy way for him to clear his head and he can go for miles before actually realizing that he's run that far.

-HE BUILDS MUSIC BOXES; listen, I have no context for this one, but he just starts tinkering around and this musical KING can just put things together super easily.

-Writes his own sheet music when he's got a lot of feelings....that doesn't mean anyone has ever actually heard said music, but it's definitely a way for him to channel his emotions into something constructive.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) - Chapter 2

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, non-con/rape, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

The poem's my own, but is inspired by 'The Starry Night' by Anne Sexton

Also, I named the poet after her, lol.

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

Gale's suite was probably the cosiest part of the entire Dekarios Estate – even though his mother had a love for homeliness too. Still, nothing compared to Gale's rooms. The walls were panelled with wood and mostly covered in overflowing bookshelves, the creaking floorboards were warmed and cushioned by knotted carpets from Halruaa, there were potted plants on every windowsill, and the ever-crackling fireplaces added to the cosiness.

Astarion turned around his own axis and whistled.

"Gale of Waterdeep, what a luxurious home you have! I'm impressed." With that haughty smirk, he added: "Is your bedroom as lavishly decorated? With a canopy bed and dozens of pillows and a romantic swing in the corner?"

The addressed gave a little embarrassed cough.

"My bedroom's rather plain, but I do have a canopy bed."

At that, Astarion grinned wider, but still didn't show his teeth.

"My, my, you sure are full of surprises," he purred, slinking closer. He wrapped his arms around Gale's neck, gazing at him through long, white eye lashes. "Why don't you show me some more?"

Gale swallowed nervously and licked his lips.

He realised three things at once; one, Astarion was even more beautiful in the light than in the dark, two, Astarion's eyes were ruby-red, not brown like he'd thought they were, and three, Gale was truly and utterly fucked.

He'd never desired a person so carnally before. Gale hadn't thought that was even possible for him. But now, that he stood in his living room, lulled in by the pale elf's bedroom eyes and his intoxicating smell, he wanted. He wanted Astarion. To have him. To devour him. That unfamiliar feeling burned so hot in his chest that it almost physically hurt, and Gale felt like he'd die if he didn't give in to the urge. He swallowed again.

"Astarion... may I kiss you?" he whispered into the silence of the room. The addressed blinked at him as if he was surprised to be asked such a question. Then, his eyes softened and he smiled as he leaned in.

"You may," Astarion answered and their lips crashed together instantly.

It felt... Gods... It felt like nothing Gale had ever felt before.

Of course, he'd traded his fair share of kisses – he was almost forty, thank you very much –, but it had never felt so intense and all-consuming before.

Unintentionally, the wizard moaned into the kiss and allowed Astarion to take the lead and explore his mouth. The elf's tongue was surprisingly cool, but Gale didn't care. It caused him a pleasant little shiver that he enjoyed almost a bit too much.

Way too soon, Astarion drew back, reminding the wizard: "You need to breathe, darling."

The addressed gulped in lungfuls of air. The elf smirked, then, he spoke: "And before you think I just pretended to like poetry to get into your bed, here's the proof;

'But eventually the stars dim at the sky,

and even the moon is swallowed up by the light,

and the next morning comes, new and bright,

oh, starry night, this is how I want to die.'"

Gale couldn't help himself but smile fondly at the other man. He leaned closer until their foreheads touched and muttered: "Thank you for finishing the poem, Astarion, but I believed you the second you said Annelore Nixton's name."

"Don't mention other people's name when you're trying to seduce me, darling," the addressed teased lightly.

"Is it working?" Gale asked breathlessly. "The seducing, I mean?"

Astarion paused, frowning a tad.

"It is," he answered, sounding almost surprised.

The wizard chuckled and pulled him into another kiss.

"Bed, darling," the elf murmured, but it ended in a moan when Gale kissed his neck. There was a scar there and the wizard was curious of its origin, but he thought it would be rude to ask about it now. Instead, he took Astarion's hand and guided him to the bedroom. It was the tidiest and most modest room in the suite. With a snap of the wizard's fingers, the candles ignited, illuminating the room.

"Mmh, handy," Astarion muttered against Gale's ear. He nosed along the wizard's throat and licked across the junction where neck meets shoulder.

"You smell delectable," the elf whispered. "I want to taste you."

"Please," Gale groaned and buried his hand in Astarion's silky-soft hair. The latter drew back before he dropped to his knees and Gale stared.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" asked the elf.

"No, it's just... You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"What gives you the impression that I don't want to do this?"

There was a small frown between Astarion's brows.

"Nothing. I'm just... just checking in on you," explained Gale, suddenly self-conscious.

"Oh..." The elf blinked. He seemed confused. "Thank you, but I'm quite alright. How do you want me?"

"Any way you take me," the addressed answered truthfully and blushed furiously when Astarion shot him a dirty grin.

"Well then, Gale of Waterdeep, strip and lay down. I want to ride you."

Oh. Oh, Gods. Gale couldn't hold back a whimper at the image his mind so helpfully conjured up for him. Hastily, he did as he was told, stumbled to the bed, and all but crashed onto his back in the most inelegant way possible. He heard Astarion chuckle and when he lifted his head, he saw the pale elf kneeling at the foot end of the bed. Completely naked. Holy Mother of – Gale quickly swallowed the saliva that was suddenly pooling viciously in his mouth. Again, Astarion smirked knowingly.

"Do you have lube, darling?"

The elf wasn't even done asking when Gale's hands already started rummaging through the lowest drawer of his bedside table. The wizard quickly handed his partner a vial of oil and Astarion set to work, fingering himself open. He put himself on full display, Gale noticed. Making a show, just for him. Somehow, Gale didn't like it. It seemed too forced, to unnatural, too... rehearsed. The wizard sat up and looked at the elf.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Of course," Astarion moaned, rocking back on his fingers.

Gale crawled over and ran his hand over the other man's shoulder while he observed him. Even though Astarion seemed aroused and rather into it, he wasn't panting. Gale moved his hand across the elf’s chest and belly, and stroke his trim waist.

"You're beautiful," he said reverently.

"Thank you. Not enough people mention that," replied the addressed and gave a little groan when he successfully hit his own prostate.

Gale stroke Astarion's hair tenderly and asked: "May I taste you?"

"Yes."

As soon as Gale got his answer, he bent down and took the elf's cock in his mouth. With a gasp, the latter's hips bucked up, almost choking the wizard.

"Oh, Gods! It has been so long since the last time anyone –"

Astarion didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he moaned, loud and blissful, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. Gale liked that, thus, he doubled his effort, paying extra attention to the sensitive glans. Astarion threw his head back and moaned again. His unoccupied hand slipped into the wizard's shoulder-length wavy hair. Not to push, only to hold. To ground himself, probably.

"Gale," Astarion whined. "Gale!"

The addressed noticed the tension of the elf's stomach muscles, the twitch of his inner thigh, and braced himself. With a noise, that landed somewhere between a moan, a sob, and a scream, Astarion came. And Gale swallowed it all eagerly.

"Oh, f– Oh, f-uck!"

The elf collapsed onto the bed, landing on his rear, with his legs folded on his sides like a baby deer's. Gale sat up, swallowed again, wiped his mouth, and asked: "Was that... alright?"

"'Alright'?" Astarion barked a laugh. "Gods... you almost killed me with that wicked mouth of yours."

The addressed turned crimson, but still had the wits to reply: "Well, my mouth can do more than cite poetry."

"I'm aware now," snickered the elf.

For a moment, they just sat there in comfortable silence and let Astarion recover. Still, Gale noticed how painfully hard he was, and couldn't help but give himself a few strokes to relieve some of the pressure.

"Oh, darling, you poor thing," Astarion cooed. "Let me make it up to you."

And with that, he pushed Gale backwards into the mattress. The wizard was surprised by the lithe elf's strength who seemed almost malnourished with the way his abs were showing. But he forgot to think straight as soon as Astarion sunk down on him. Gale groaned as the elf's body engulfed him. It felt heavenly. It was so tight. So... cool? The wizard frowned a bit. That was weird. He didn't remember a person's body ever being – And in this moment, Gale's brain got scrabbled as Astarion rolled his hips in such a way that had the wizard's eyes rolling.

"Ooh! Oh, Gods! Astarion..."

Gale found hold on the elf's pale thighs.

"Yes, darling. Call my name," the latter spoke. "The only thing you remember shall be my name, and you shall shout it when you come inside me."

He did that things with his hips again and Gale bucked up into him with a desperate whine.

"Gods, Astarion, please... Please, kiss me."

The addressed hesitated even though he kept his hips moving. Then, he bent down and complied to the wizard's wish who moaned wantonly. He was addicted to kissing, Gale decided. He loved kissing the elf. This stranger he'd just met tonight and who he'd let into his home, into his bed, and into his heart.

Astarion drew back, sat up, placed his hands on Gale's chest, and started to bounce in the wizard's lap. The latter's brain almost short-circuited which... was new. That had never happened before. Not with anyone. Not even with Mys–

"Say my name, Gale of Waterdeep. Say my name."

"Astarion..."

"Again."

"Astarion."

"Louder!"

"Astarion!"

"Again!"

"Astarion!"

"Yes!"

The elf, who kept rolling his hips, finally started to pant, and when he threw back his head and his spine arched beautifully, his pearly-white teeth glinted in the candlelight. His fangs glinted. Fangs. Ah. That explained everything. Gale heard a choked-off sob.

"Astarion," he panted pleadingly. "Kiss me again. Please."

This time, the addressed didn't hesitate and complied immediately. Gale climaxed with a long and loud moan, clutching Astarion's thighs, while the latter whined into the kiss and started to shake apart too. Then, the elf collapsed onto the wizard, his head buried in the latter's shoulder, still trembling slightly while coming down from his high.

Gale sighed deeply and opened his eyes. He felt truly and thoroughly fucked out – and his mind was still blissfully quiet.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you're a vampire?"

The sudden question hung in the air like a heavy spell and Astarion tensed. Just as a precaution, Gale held onto the elf's thighs a little tighter. He didn't want him to run away.

"I –" Astarion hesitated. "I didn't want to scare you off, nor did I wanted to end up with a stake between my ribs. Vampire's aren't exactly liked – for good reasons, I must add. I'm a mere spawn though, not a fully-fledged vampire. None of the benefits, but all of the inconveniences."

"Hm, I see," mumbled Gale. "Are you hungry?"

The elf's head shot up from where it had laid on the wizard's shoulder.

"I beg you pardon!"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Gale explained hastily, "but before... when we started... you asked if you could taste me, and it just appeared to me that you maybe meant it more literally than figuratively. So, I ask you again; are you hungry? Because if you are, I'd gladly donate some of my blood to you."

Astarion stared at him, long and intensely, as if he was looking for the catch or the lie. The wizard waited patiently. Finally, the elf dropped his tense shoulders and sighed.

"Well, that's an unexpected offer... and I'm – I'm always hungry, really. But usually, I – Well, it's not important."

Astarion gave him a beaming smile, finally showing all of his beautiful teeth, but Gale looked at him, frowning.

"Why are you always hungry?"

"Well, usually I – Hm... My master prohibited me from drinking the blood of thinking creatures. I don't know how much you know about the effects of a vampire lord's words on their spawns, but when he gives you an order, you must follow said order, no matter if you want to or not. It's literally not in your power to refuse your master's words. Your body's being puppeteered against your will. Your own body doesn't belong to you anymore. You're a thrall, through and through."

"So... your master... his orders still apply to you? Does that mean he's still alive, or does his orders still take effect even after his death?"

Astarion kept quiet for a moment, then, he answered: "I'm a free vampire spawn. I have no master anymore. But his words still echo in my mind, even though they don't actually apply anymore. Thus, I still only consume the blood of animals."

"Your master's dead then?" Gale probed. "How did that happen? Did monster hunters kill him, another vampire, or you?"

The addressed pressed his lips into a thin line. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.

"It doesn't matter," he finally muttered. "I'm free now."

Gale was itching to ask more questions, but he did what he usually never did; he dropped the subject. Instead of pressing on, he simply nodded and kept silent. It was the right thing to do since Astarion's handsome features smoothed out and he rested his head on Gale's shoulder again, relaxed.

"Just let me stay like this a little longer, darling."

A unfamiliar, weird kind of panic got hold of Gale and he pleaded: "Please stay with me."

He felt Astarion smile against his collarbone.

"Alright, darling."

[thevikingwoman]

7, 14, 16 for the amorous asks (for mery!)

Thank you Hannah! Also tagging @myreia who asked for 14 too. 7. What gift would they be most delighted to receive from a suitor or lover?

Meryta doesn't put a lot of weight on possessions in general. She'd appreciate some delicious food or snack for sure. Otherwise something small, a token that would remind them of their lover like a charm or jewelry.

14. If your OC were to dress up to show themselves off to their best advantage, perhaps for an existing partner, or in the hopes of attracting positive attention, what might they wear?

So I have a couple of things I thought of for this.

one thing she'd do is to wear something fancy, that she thinks her partner would find pretty or nice, something beautiful and intricate. She would be a little out of her depth so she'd ask for help (SB weaver NPC client comes to mind)

the other things is just - in general something that would show her skin and scales - especially her belly, which is something she does, but not always. She might think of lingerie too, and I think she'd just - try to figure out what to wear since it's not something she would be familiar with. Window shopping. She'd go for something with lace, but not not excessive bow/ruffles. Perhaps something with straps too.

lastly. she'd wear a piece of her partners clothing to entice them. Not me thinking about Meryta wearing Tansui's haori and nothing else. He'd be insane about it too

16.. Your OC is asked by their lover or spouse to write them a love poem. How do they respond?

Writing in general is not her strong suit, and she wouldn't even know where to begin with poetry. She would probably ask for help, and it would be:

Emmanellain - wouldn't Ishgard do poetry? and he'd be rejected because he's an ex lover, it would be strange?

Urianger - he knows a lot words? poetry is words? but she'd be too shy to ask him I think, and she wouldn't feel close enough to him (not yet at least)

Alphinaud - he is educated, a friend, and he already allegedly tried to woo someone by drawing, which he's good at? He also wouldn't laugh at her. PERFECT. what could go wrong?

Amorous asks!

[herearedragons]

ok oc relationship ask again. same thing (3, 6, 40, 100) for lorenzo x aloth <3

OC relationship asks

3. What is their love language?

Well, Lorenzo did teach Aloth Vailian, which they use to flirt without their Aedyran-speaking friends knowing exactly what they're saying, so they do kind of have a "love language" I guess hshshdhdjd

but in general I do think that they show affection a lot through just. talking. they've both spent a lot of time being alone and unable to really share their thoughts and be honest with anyone, so having someone to freely speak their mind to means a lot. In terms of physical affection, I don't think they do it a lot in public (that one line of narration about Aloth brushing his knuckles against the Watcher's sounds about right for them), but privately, yeah. Also Lorenzo *is* a chanter and he *will* just straight up write poetry and songs for the person he likes and then perform them in broad daylight.

Also, I think they're pretty aware of each other's anxieties and know when the other feels unsafe, so they'll keep an eye on each other and try to help if they see the other start to get nervous for whatever reason.

6. Who would ask the "would you love me if I were a worm?" question? How would their S/O answer?

hsjsbdjdjr I think both of them would have to be in a pretty weird headspace to ask that question, but I'm going to say Lorenzo is probably the one asking (he may or may not be a little drunk). Aloth says that if Lorenzo was a worm he'd just turn him back into a person, because he's NOT spending his life with a worm. Lorenzo goes "so no???" and Aloth goes "well I would still love YOU, but I would NOT love the fact that you were a worm. where is this even coming from?? do you WANT to be a worm?" (Lorenzo does not want to be a worm. to Aloth's great relief)

40.What is a song that reminds you of the OCs' relationship?

The Alorenzo song of the day is: Everyone by Sleeping At Last! (specifically pre-relationship vibes, with their relative secrets not being out yet)

What have you seen?

What have you felt?

Your lips are closed, the curtain's shut

All that we can see is on your sleeve

All that we can see is on your sleeve

I know from time to time

That hope seems but a foreign land

A distance that we cannot reach

A language we cannot speak

100.Make a meme of this ship.

Answered in a separate post!

[hypnified]

Wait, but I love these things! The shipping thing - cause it teaches you about your followers AND your ocs. It's like a 2 for 1 deal!

Anyway! I would love to see who you would pair me with. I'm shy, and quiet. I prefer reading, writing, and listening to music over any social event, and I love listening to other people talk, even if I don't have anything to add. Do tend to be very family oriented, but thats a side effect of coming from a large family. I'm average height, and at the moment my hair is green. I wear glasses all of the time.

I hope you have fun with this!!

❤️ - vodika-vibes

Honestly, I'm really excited to give these a try and see how they go!

I've read this over multiple times, and read through every oc notes that I have in my discord server where I store all my ocs stuff! So here's my thoughts! I'm not sure if these are accurate but here we go:

At first Storm came to mind, and hear me out I know he's a chaotic mess and not everyone can deal with him, he's a mess okay and we roll with it. But he's good with everyone you name it, he can fit in with everyone. Storm is intense just like his namesake, he doesn't always adore social events. Sure he can handle them, but not everyone can handle him if that makes sense? He'd never force you to come to social events, you wanna stay home? Bet, he's all for it. He might even suggest some music, he has some pretty good songs on his playlist, so of you need some songs bet consider it done! He can talk a lot, when he's super excited he'll talk really fast, please tell him to settle down he needs it.

If you're okay with it, he'd ask you questions about the book your reading, it gets him to settle down and he gets to listen to you what more could he want? Storm would absolutely love your hair, he'd think it's so cool! And your glasses? He loves them! If you need him to meet your family at any point, that's okay. Storm wants to make it easy for you, he can handle it even if he is secretly stressed but he won't let it show.

He'd absolutely read to you at night if you ever want him to.

I know Storm is too intense for some people, he's just not for everyone so I wanted to add someone who's on the quieter side of things.

Frey! I haven't talked about him too much so this also gives everyone the chance to learn about him. He's not chaotic unless put with anyone who is relatively chaotic, then he will raise hell. His ideal date would probably be sitting in silence with a book, which by the way Frey will annotate for you which when he's done he'll give it to you. Whenever he has to leave, he'll leave sticky notes for you to find with reminders and poetry that reminds him of you. He might even say that whenever he leaves, you keep apart of him here.

Social events aren't for him, unless Crimson and Pluto drag him and Bear there. Frey would never let someone disrespect you, it doesn't get past him ever. He always loves to know what you're reading, and if he can get you some new books to try. He'd be your biggest supporter when it comes to your writing. He's not an open book, and he doesn't talk too much not like Storm.

This boy is soft for you but will always deny it, you've stolen his heart but he's not complaining and he never will. Whenever you take your glasses off, he'll gently kiss your nose. He loves your glasses, he thinks your hair makes you unique! Frey tends to be an asshole but he won't let you see that, or he tries.

Even though you're shy and quiet, Frey isn't put off by that. He'll always come to your defense, nothing gets past him but he also knows when to keep his mouth shut but that doesn't always work. The first time he meets your family, he's tense he just stands there very out of place but as time goes on he gets better and eventually he will fit in.

[stacywaters]

Coffee and Violets (SUGA) CH4 - I’m Not Going

 "Ugh, I'm just so sick of hearing the same music here all the time. I try to play lofi, but it gets repetitive. I try to play mainstream music, but it's too distracting. I need something to fit the cafe's cozy vibe, you know?" I complain to Hoseok.

 He sips on his coffee, "Have you tried just having silence? And not playing music?"

 "I have, but it makes the front of house so uncomfortable. Sometimes a group will stop talking and it's just silent. I don't want it to be awkward!"

 "Hmm," He pauses, thinking through my problem, "Yoongi's actually really good with music. Have you thought about talking through it with him?"

 "No way!" You spit out before you had the time to think. "He'd probably judge me or something... I hardly know him! I'll be fine, I just wanted to rant for a bit."

 Hoseok doesn't seem to be listening, but instead staring at his phone. Scrolling through things before eventually bringing the phone to his ear and talking. Oh gosh, what is he doing now?

 "Hey, Yoongi?"

 "..."

 "Yeah I'm just calling to ask you a favor"

 "...." 

 "Well I'm talking to Y/N right now! It's easier to just call"

 "..."

 "Yeah, she needs new music for her cafe and was wondering if you could help" 

 "No I wasn't! Stop it! I'm not meeting up with him!" You angrily whisper as he continues to ignore you.

 "Great! Then I'll send you the address. How does this Friday sound?" He puts a hand to the phone and whispers to you, "You're free Friday, right?"

 "No, I am not! I'm not going!"

 "Yep she'll be there!" 

 "..."

 "Sounds good." He hangs up the phone and turns to you, smiling.

 "What the hell was that?" you burst out yelling at him.

 "He said he'll be there! He can help you with your problem. Isn't that great?"

 "No. It most certainly is NOT great. I did not agree to this!" you sneered.

 "Why are you so against this? You guys are friends. Unless..." He says.

 "Unless? Unless what?" You say, calming down a little.

 "Do you like Yoongi?" He questions, a smirk forming on his face.

 You pause, breathless. I don't want to lie to him, but I also don't trust he'll keep it a secret. Yes, I like Yoongi, who wouldn't? That doesn't mean I want to go on a 'date' with him and risk completely embarrassing myself. 

 "You do!" He yells out, "You totally do! You paused!" 

 "Fine. I like him. Now what? This whole interaction is just going to be an embarrassing reminder that I'm nowhere near his type and that he will never like me."

 Hoseok just laughs across from you, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

 "What do you mean?" you ask.

 "Have you seen the way he looks at you? Maybe you aren't around him enough to know, but he doesn't act like that around just anyone."

 "Act like what?" you ask, beginning to feel at least a bit hopeful. Sure, it's not true, but you still enjoy fantasizing a bit.

 "like- smiling and stuff. It took forever to get him to run the shop with me, and he still refuses to talk to the customers. He mainly just puts together the bouquets and writes the poetry on the labels."

 So he's the one that writes those... you think to yourself. "That doesn't mean he likes me, that's just how he acts around friends." You argue. Honestly though, you're just fishing. You want to hear more about how he likes you, even if it isn't true.

 "Ugh. I'm done trying to convince you, Y/N. If you don't believe me, fine, but you are going to that date this Friday."

 "Where even is it?"

 " _____ Restaurant." He informs you. 

[AUTHOR NOTE: Sorry I don't know what to call the restaurant ._. just name it whatever you want]

 "WHAT? THAT PLACE IS SO FANCY, AND EXPENSIVE?? I CAN'T AFFORD THAT." You yell.

 "Don't worry, Yoongi will pay." He says.

 "I don't want that! What if he can't afford it either? I'm sure you don't make that much money running a flower shop."

 "Are you calling us poor?"

 "No no, and it's fine if you are it's just... I don't want to put him in an uncomfortable position."

 "Don't worry about that Y/N. Just be there this Friday, and have a good time! You never know what could happen..." He smiles suspiciously.

Next Chapter?

[seitmai]

I have so many thoughts and comments I'm gonna utilize the read more function here lol, bear with me 🫶🏻

Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

I'm dying 🫠 if this is a short und elaborated one, what are his long like?! Like how can these be even better?!

Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

A girl can dream 🥰🤭 and Bob reading out loud? Hot and soothing

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

Ahhh I wanna grab Anna by the shoulders and shake her

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

😏😏😏

It's giving smut fanfic writer 🤭

He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

"Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

God Bradley is such a horn dog for Sugar but in the most wholesome way

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him,

Urgh of course he would because he (+Anna for him) is perfect

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

Ahhhh Nat is back!!!

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

This is not Anna's perspective but I already know how that sounds/looks 😬🫣

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Love love love their bond and friendship 🥰🤗

And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

I love this description of "a growing collection of feelings"! It's so perfect for her and her love for books that she more or less collects 🥰

Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

🥹🥹🥹

I can't wait for the moment Anna the poetry lover realizes Bob is the smut poet🤭

Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Oh man, this is just some classic miscommunication, but can you imagine Anna feeling betrayed by her two friends that got so close in a short amount of time 🥺

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Am I sensing Nat yearning for some academic lover too?

Not me inserting myself and seeing her with a gender studies researcher meeting her through an interview for research about women in the military or something like that 🤔

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

That hurt 😭💔

She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance.

Omg I would LOVE to discuss the MCU with those two! Anna is living my dream!!! (In so many ways)

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

🥺🥺🥺

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair?

Poor Bob 🥺

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Ahhhhhhhhh I love them!!!

I also have to mention how much I love this dual pov!! It does so much for the story of those two fools in love that are literally perfect for each other 🤗🥰

Covering the Classics Part 7 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Just when Anna starts to feel settled, a simple cookout at her friend's house turns everything upside down. Her jealousy shines through, and there's nothing she can do to try to take it back.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Things with Bob felt like they shifted back to normal again, and Anna was thankful for that. Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

She was running a little late to meet him at the usual coffee shop, worried he would already be there. He seemed to end up paying for her drink every single time, which was honestly really sweet of him, but she felt like such a nuisance. When she walked inside, he was there, at a table with two steaming mugs in front of him and his nose buried in a book. In one of Anna's books. In her copy of Wuthering Heights.

Her whole body felt too warm as she thought about how much she would love to have Bob read every single one of the hundreds of books she owned. Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

But she couldn't do that. They were just friends. So instead, she dropped down into the empty seat across from him and said, "Hi, Bob," with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt.

"Anna." Her name sounded like golden perfection when he said it, and she shivered. "This book... I can't stop reading it. I read it twice already," he said with a little laugh. "How in the world do you always know exactly what I'm going to like?"

Because she felt undeniably drawn to him and his preferences and everything about him.

"Because I'm a professional."

He laughed a little more as his pretty lake-blue eyes followed her cup as she brought it up to her lips. When the ceramic touched her, he looked away as his cheeks grew pink. He pushed the book across the table, and when she reached for it, he said, "Uh, just read that note later, okay?"

When she saw the edge of white paper sticking out from the worn pages, she said, "Sure, Bob."

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Did you hear about the change of venue for tomorrow?"

Anna ducked her head. "Yeah, the girls told me about it at lunch yesterday. A cookout? Bradley wants to show off his new grill?"

Bob nodded and said, "Could be a nice change from the Hard Deck for once."

While he wasn't wrong, Anna hated that she still barely had enough money to make ends meet. San Diego was expensive, and when she asked Advanced Calculus what she could bring with her to their house to contribute to the meal, her friend said to bring hot dog and hamburger buns. Anna was already trying to figure out how to scrape together the ten dollars that would be required when Jessica said she already bought some along with chips and pretzels. When she didn't quite meet Anna's eyes, she knew for a fact that Jessica had figured her out.

"Yeah. I suppose," Anna told Bob. But at least at the Hard Deck, Penny didn't usually even charge her for the three dollar ginger ales. And if she did, one of the guys just put it on their tab like it was nothing. When she showed up empty handed to the cookout, she was going to feel awful that Jessica had covered for her. 

"You want another coffee?" Bob asked, standing with his own mug, but Anna shook her head. She couldn't let him pay for another thing. Perhaps deleting multi millionaire Dev Borah's phone number wasn't her best move. Not that she would ever take advantage of someone for their money. Not after what Kevin did to her.

"No. But thank you. I actually can't stay very long today."

Bob nodded before saying, "No worries. I have dinner plans with Suzanne before Mickey picks me up for D&D anyway."

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

------------------------

It was late on Saturday night, and he should have been in bed, but Bob had his computer out. He reasoned that he could sleep in as late as he wanted tomorrow before heading to pick up the burgers Bradley asked him to bring for the cookout. He could stay up as long as it took for him to finish this poem and finally post it on PoetsAmongUs after looking at it for weeks.

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself softly. Somehow he believed that writing about her specifically would cleanse him of these thoughts, but now he knew he was wrong. He proofread and posted his poem anyway while his skin prickled with need. He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

She made him want to keep leaving her notes in the books he borrowed from her, but she also made him feel like an idiot for wanting to do that. It was maddening. He needed to sleep, but he was too warm, imagining Anna once again in place of his faceless lover while he touched himself. He almost couldn't wait until the day when someone else would take her place in his mind, even if it meant settling.

The next day, he drove his old pickup toward the coast with the burgers and a six pack of ginger ale in tow. The Spanish revival style house that Bradley purchased before he and his wife made things official again was cute with desert landscaping, but she was the one who really made it a home. There was art hanging on the walls in every room, including a panoramic watercolor of the scenery of Virginia. The front bedroom had been turned into her home office, and for some reason, she had Bradley's fraternity paddle hanging in there. The house seemed more lived in now, and Bob knew Bradley was much happier for it.

"Hey, thanks man," Bradley told him, taking the bag of burgers when he got there. He was wearing his hideous Grateful Dead shirt and holding two cans of beer on one hand, but he still managed to give Bob a quick hug. "Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

Bob held up the ginger ales in response and said, "Thanks, but I'll just have one of these for now." The last thing he wanted was a hangover like he had after their New Year's Eve party.

"Hi!" Jessica said as she and Jake walked inside, and she made a beeline right for Bob. "Have you given any more thought to how I should paint my barbarian?"

He just smiled as she started to push him through the kitchen toward the back door. "We just played yesterday. I didn't know you'd still be in the mood to talk about your ridiculous D&D character."

"Please," she practically whined. "You know how sensitive my barbarian is."

Bob snorted; truly he never would have expected he and she would have had so much in common, but even Jessica couldn't keep his attention once he saw who Bradley's wife was talking to. Anna had some freckles on her thighs. Her cutoff denim shorts went high enough up her legs that he was treated to the sight of freckles everywhere. And that wasn't all. Not even close. The deep "V" of her shirt revealed that there was a pretty good chance the freckles even trailed down inside her bra.

He wasn't going to survive the cookout if he had to look at her all afternoon. Her red hair was clipped up on top of her head with some sort of claw-shaped thing, and her skin was just everywhere. Her neck and her legs and the swell of her breasts. Her fingernails were burgundy again, just like the first day he saw her. She hadn't even noticed him yet, which was terrible, because if she had, he would have looked away by now. Instead he was given ample opportunity to memorize the way her legs looked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, shuffling her beat up sneakers a bit along the patio.

"Oh," Jessica whispered, squeezing his bicep gently when he stopped responding to her. "Yeah, that'll do it." Her tone sounded slightly sympathetic, and it made Bob so self conscious. "Let's go say hi."

He shook his head jerkily and muttered, "In a second." Anna was currently laughing, head thrown back in delight, and Bob got the briefest peek at the strip of skin above her shorts and her bellybutton, and his brain actually stopped functioning. When she tipped her head forward again, an overjoyed smile still on her lips, she met his gaze. His brain jump started again as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he took a step in her direction before he could reconsider.

"Hey, Bob." She sounded a little breathless as she said his name while Bradley's wife smirked at the two of them. But he and Anna were just friends, and he needed to remember that.

"Anna," he replied softly, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. His palms were sweaty, and he knew he was blushing. He'd never make it out of here alive. Not when she was looking at him like that. 

She smiled and said, "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him, then he heard someone screeching his name.

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," he said in surprise.

"I didn't tell anyone except Bradley. Did I surprise you?" she asked.

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

-----------------------------

Anna couldn't believe how incredible her friend's house was. It was huge and beautiful, and she had a yard. A yard! In California! There was colorful art on the walls, which appeared to be a collection of things that she and Bradley enjoyed. Her office was something Anna could only dream about, and the kitchen was bigger than her whole apartment.

After a tour of the interior, she stood on the patio in the autumn sunlight in a pair of shorts, something she would have never been able to do in New Jersey. Every day seemed to get better than the last, assuming she could keep the intrusive thoughts about Kevin away. And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

"You have to hear what happened in my Differential Equations lecture on Friday afternoon," her friend was saying as they stood near the new grill that would soon be the centerpiece of the afternoon. "You won't even believe it."

Anna listened for a minute to the wild story, bursting into laughter when she learned how her friend thought she was going to have to call the fire department while she was teaching. Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

She had to bite her lip in an attempt to calm herself down. "Hey, Bob," she managed to say as his cheeks flushed pink.

"Anna."

Oh, she was a mess. She thought about him way too frequently, even taking the time to compile the titles of some books she had read and loved, convincing herself he might like some of them too. "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

But she stopped mid sentence when she heard some excited chatter behind Bob, and then a woman came running out through the back door. A beautiful woman. Calling his name. Jumping into his arms. Anna was treated to the sight of the woman's lips brushing against Bob's cheek while he held onto her like he was just reunited with the only person he ever cared about. She had to watch as this other woman ran her fingers gently along his skin in exactly the way Anna fantasized about. And when she looked around, nobody seemed concerned by this turn of events, rather they all acted like it was perfectly normal that Bob and this woman were whispering intimately to each other.

Then Anna heard her say, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

Oh. Well. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she took a step backwards as the rest of the group greeted this mystery woman. Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Anna felt like her chest was growing tighter by the second, and then Jessica started to pull the pretty brunette toward her. "You have to come meet the newest faculty member from the English department! Dr. Anna Webber."

The woman looked her up and down with dark, appraising eyes and a little smirk set firmly on her lips. Then she stuck out her right hand and said, "I'm Natasha Trace."

The last thing Anna wanted to do right now was shake hands, but Jessica was looking at her with concern, probably wondering why she was just standing there. "It's a pleasure," Anna said with as much conviction as she could muster, shaking hands as briefly as she could.

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Jessica was beaming now as she said, "Anna gives book recommendations to Bob all the time."

"Really? Is that so?" Natasha asked, still eyeing Anna like a predator would their prey, when Bob appeared with two cans of ginger ale. He gave one to Natasha and then tried to hand the other one to Anna as Natasha said, "I actually read a phenomenal book last month, Bob. I'll write down the title for you."

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

The uncomfortable feeling was overtaking Anna's whole body now when Natasha leaned a little closer to Bob and softly muttered, "Let me guess... you have a little crush? This happened in my absence?"

Anna turned and went inside, searching for the bathroom she'd seen on the house tour. That woman was mocking her. Anna didn't want to hear any more of that conversation, because it was making her skin crawl. And worse still, she was finally able to identify this feeling as she closed and locked the door and leaned on the sink vanity.

Jealousy. 

She was more jealous of this petite brunette who seemed to think Bob's personal space was hers for the taking than she ever was about Kevin and Alyssa. She was beside herself at the idea of another woman giving Bob book recommendations and making fun of his stupid little crush on her.

This was exactly why she should have never let herself have feelings. When she looked in the mirror, she saw tears in her eyes. "Shit," she whispered. She didn't have a car, so she couldn't just discreetly leave. Plus she'd been looking forward to eating something other than one of her sad sandwiches for days.

The jealousy gave way to anger as she wiped her eyes with a tissue and dropped it in the trash can. Her new friends invited her here, and she was going to stay. She wasn't going to let her feelings for Bob Floyd dictate her mood or what she felt she was allowed to do. She wasn't going to let another man run her life like that ever again.

With her head held high, she walked back outside, making it a point to avoid Bob and Natasha at all costs. She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance. Then she and Bradley discussed the extensive musical catalogue of the Grateful Dead while she slowly sipped a beer to try to take the edge off. Then he turned on the grill, and the smell of food cooking had her excited enough that it was becoming easier and easier to ignore Bob.

When she accidentally looked his way, he was already eyeing her with a confused expression. She could pretend all day long that she didn't care what he thought and that she wasn't jealous at all. She could be so stubborn about this. At least all they had between them was that one awkward, fumbled kiss in his truck. It wasn't like she'd slept with him before he ditched her for the much better looking Natasha.

She was still doing a fine job of ignoring both of them when Bradley announced that dinner was ready. Anna took a plate of food and scooted all the way to the end of the rectangular patio table, snagging the spot across from Jessica. She was willing to talk about anything right now, even her friend's physics curriculum that she could barely comprehend, but then Bob was right next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked cautiously, setting his plate next to hers. Anna just shrugged, and then she was enveloped in his clean scent as he eased himself down in the seat with his knee hitting her thigh. She quickly crossed her legs before scooting her chair a few inches to the side away from his. "Are you okay?"

Anna almost laughed as Natasha found a spot on the other side of the table. "I'm just fine," she said before taking a huge bite of her burger and avoiding looking at either of them.

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

Anna shook her head, and when she was done chewing the delicious food, she said, "Not at all. You're free to make the decisions you want to make. And I'm free to keep my books to myself since you've got other ones now."

Bob looked at her and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

But Anna was well on her way to starting a conversation with Jessica that could probably last for hours. She ignored him as she asked, "Hey, Jess, what's up with that physics professor who just started wearing a toupee?"

"Dr. Leeland!" she screeched before launching into an animated conversation on the topic of her colleague's hair piece just as expected.

------------------------

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair? Bob sat there and listened to the conversation while he ate, trying to interject, but Anna just wasn't having it. She had even rejected his ginger ale.

What the hell did he do wrong? All he wanted to do was talk to her about books and look at her freckles. She was sitting right next to him, but he may as well have been on Jupiter with the way she seemed convinced that he wasn't even there at all.

As everyone started to finish eating, Bob washed his food down with the rest of his ginger ale. Maybe he should just head home early. He'd be spending all week at work with Nat, so it wasn't like he was going to miss out on much there. And being around Anna when she wasn't even looking at him made him feel like an idiot for secretly writing poems about her. He sat at the table alone for an extra minute with his head cradled in his hands, then he took his trash inside the house.

Of course Anna was the only other person in the kitchen, helpfully washing the grilling utensils and other things Bradley left in the sink. She glanced his way briefly before continuing with her task, and Bob headed for the trash can. He had the perfect view of the freckles on the backs of her thighs, but he didn't feel like he should be looking now. He stood quietly for a few seconds before deciding that he'd give this one last try before heading out.

"Anna," he said just loud enough that he knew she could hear him over the running water. "Can we talk? I just feel like I did something to upset you? When you started to invite me to the bookstore, I was going to say yes. Obviously I'd love to go with-"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he went silent at her glare. "Why don't you just go with Natasha instead?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not the kind of thing she and I usually do together."

"Oh?" she asked, her voice dripping with something that made Bob's skin tingle with goosebumps. "Does she usually recommend books while you're out to dinner? Or do you take her to see her favorite movies?" 

She turned off the water and faced him without bothering to dry her hands. His lips parted as he watched the furious looking blush that crept along her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks. 

"I don't really do those things with her either," he said slowly, trying to puzzle his way through this. She sounded almost jealous of Nat, but that couldn't be. That didn't make any sense at all. Anna made it clear she didn't want to be with him.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want, Bob," she said with a shrug, chin held high. "This is why we're just friends. You've already got plenty of women to choose from, like Suzanne and Natasha, and I'm not about to get caught up in another attractive man who seems too good to be true."

She started to duck past him, but Bob blocked her path. "Whoa, whoa! No, you've got it all wrong." She doubled back the other way, but he stepped to the side until she bumped into him. "Suzanne is my elderly neighbor. And Natasha and I are friends," he said quickly, and he was rewarded with Anna's brown eyes snapping up to meet his. "I've known her for years. She's the pilot I usually fly with."

Anna took one stumbling step backwards toward the sink. Her teeth sank into her lip like earlier before she whispered, "Oh." She swallowed hard, drawing Bob's gaze back to the freckles on her neck as her blush grew deeper. "So you're not... into her?"

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

The kitchen went so silent that Bob could hear laughter filtering from the patio through the open door, and Anna's expression softened as she took a tiny step forward. Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Anna coaxed him impossibly closer with her fingers in his hair and on the back of his neck, and soon he had her pinned against the edge of the counter. He could feel denim rubbing against denim as she parted her lips and wiggled slowly against him. When Bob swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, Anna let him taste her before her lips drifted along to his neck.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing her hips in his hands as his index finger met the soft skin of her lower back. She was sucking gently on the spot just to the left of his Adam's apple, and there was no way she couldn't feel how hard he was getting for her right now.

Those burgundy fingernails were scraping gently along his scalp as he rolled his hips one time against her body. When Anna licked his neck, he forced himself to ask the question that was fluttering around the peripheral of his aroused brain. "Are you going to tell me this is another mistake? Like that night in my truck?"

Anna pulled her lips away from his pulse point long enough to whisper, "It wasn't even a mistake last time. I just couldn't help myself."

Then Bob kissed her lips until she was clinging to him with her back arched against the counter and her hips held tightly in his hands. When he could tell someone was coming inside, he pulled himself away, panting as she tried to chase him for more. He could see the questioning look on her face as he stepped aside just before Mickey and Jake walked inside, arguing about who ate the last hot dog.

Anna turned back toward the sink as she blushed, and Bob was aching to kiss her again. Dying to confirm that she wasn't going to write him off again. He cleared his throat and asked, "Will you let me drive you home later?"

Bob heard her soft laugh and whispered, "Yes." Then with a smile, he took the last can of ginger ale from the refrigerator and set it on the counter next to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with need as he excused himself back out to the patio where he started to count down the minutes until he could suggest it was late enough to leave.

---------------------------

Anna, you are living the dream, baby! Let him love you the way he wants to! And once again, in Natasha we trust. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[evanox]

Hi hi hi :D

I saw you were taking requests so I have an au request thingy. Imagine the one au of the M3 as baristas with an mc from Astraea, except mc just fucking faceplants into the coffee shop during the closing shift and everyone loses their shit-

Also hcs for barista Felix falling for astraean mc ahajsksksjsmsms that is all okay thank you-

hii tysm for the request!! no I definitely didn't have to binge @/morgandrinkscoffee for Research /s,, also omg you've reminded me of Ciel's drawing of the M3 as baristas,, man I'm gonna miss Ciel's LL art,, also

you see I kind of forgot the Astraean MC bit and already committed to General Barista HCs so now you're getting both General Barista HCs and the M3 with Astraean MC and Felix falls in love with them, except the latter is gonna have to be on another post bc it got so long tumblr won't let me edit it normally anymore :)) i'll make sure to tag you once that's up!

m.list

Felix

Felix had to find a new job to stay afloat after practically disowning his dad. Scylla still tries to help with a lot of his finances, but Felix hates relying too much on her, so here is, working the coffee machine at a bookstore coffee shop. Yes, it is a humbling experience.

The manager had to tell him off several times about his sharp tongue; Felix wasn't exactly subtle when a customer pissed him off. His coworkers, however, enjoyed living vicariously through him. It was cathartic watching Felix come up with creative ways to roast (haha) rude customers, and it was fun while it lasted. Now he just wears his customer smile through the pain, except it's more of an unnerving "I can't stop thinking about all the ways I could poison you" smirk.

Loathes the morning shift with every fiber of his being; loves the night shift, especially if he's alone. You know he's busting a few moves with that broom while blasting his playlist that's just too hit or miss for everyone to be used while the cafe is open.

Throws far too many tirades about how tea is far superior to coffee.

"Why do you work at a cafe then?"

"Mind your business."

Oh, the scandalized look on his face when someone suggests he try out coffee so he can 'look a little more cheerful on the morning shift'...

Felix always brings a book along to get him through slow shifts. He tried to be subtle about the more risque ones, but he'd been caught by his coworkers so many times that Felix doesn't bother hiding it from them anymore.

Come to the counter carrying a book that Felix likes (or absolutely loathes), and he will look like someone breathed life back into his corpse. It's very rare that he'd engage in small talk with customers—let alone initiate it—but he'll ask how far into the book have you read, what are your thoughts so far, and offer some of his own opinions if you seem to be enjoying the conversation.

His handwriting is usually incomprehensible because he writes in cursive and his hand is too fast so it just looks like a messy string of loops. You know Felix has a crush when he takes his sweet time drawing out those pretty loops into your name and making it look fancier than a Victorian man's love letter.

And yes, he'll go out of his way to walk the order to you.

Can't help but stare as you sip on your drink, so he brings his leather-bound writing journal along to seem more subtle as he looks between you and the pages. When inspiration strikes he might jot down a few verses of poetry about the threads of your hair turned golden by the sun or the mesmerizing rhythm of your finger as you tap it against your lovely lips when deep in thought, and if you have brown eyes he might even throw in a coffee-related simile. Then he feels very embarrassed and slaps the journal shut before any of his coworkers could get a peek.

How does he flirt, you ask? By reading the same books you pick up, of course; what better way to know someone? And it'll give him an excuse to strike up a conversation the next time you come for a drink.

Anisa

Anisa working in a cat cafe? Anisa working in a cat cafe.

When no one's watching she'll try to coo at the cats and coax them into her lap. Why does she feel the need to hide when trying to get the cats to play? Because Anisa doesn't want anyone witnessing the myriad of rejections she has to face from the cats.

Yes she cries a little when one of them gets adopted, both tears of joy and sadness—she's gonna miss them so much. You know she memorized all their names.

Anisa has always had the best work ethic and gives her job her all, but it helps a lot that she really likes the cafe; it has the added bonus of cats and a mostly laid-back clientele who just want to see some cute fluffy babies. This place also happens to be a hot spot for first dates and Anisa always gazes at the new couples with yearning; she can't wait for the day she gets to come here as a customer herself with someone she loves.

So yes, she might be the most put-together out of the three LI's, but Anisa definitely has her unhinged moments, like spending concerning amounts of time staring at the coffee beans in the grinder and fighting the urge to grab a handful just to eat it. She won't do it, but God, that texture must be immaculate. Has she ever thought about trying out the cats' food while shoveling some into their bowls? Maybe once or twice, not that anyone needs to know.

Also she's the worst when it comes to being a chronic ice-kicker.

You can always trust her with choosing the playlist and setting the vibe for the day. Anisa loves the opening shift for that sole reason, and also because she hates the closing shift cleanup. There was a morning when she opened and found the bar looking like a total mess, proceeded to check the schedule so she can give a certain someone a piece of her mind, only to find out it was, indeed, Anisa herself who closed last night.

She's so sweet with the kids and applauds them when they manage to make an order after nervously stumbling over their words.

There are only two types of situations when Anisa might look the slightest bit intimidating; the first is when lecturing customers about not bothering the cats if they're sleeping or forcing them to play when the cats don't want to.

The second is when a customer asks her to watch over a laptop or other personal stuff when they need to go to the bathroom. For the next 5 minutes, Anisa will be your laptop's hawk-eyed, vigilant guardian, throwing herself halfway over the counter to keep watch over your things and make sure they remain untouched.

Her customer smile is well-practiced but oh, the way her eyes light up when her favorite person comes through; you can so obviously tell this smile is far more genuine.

Doesn't shy away from drawing a little heart next to your name over the cup, or maybe a little cat. If your drink comes with a straw she'll always choose the one with her favorite color for you; if she's feeling bold she might ask about your favorite color. Don't confront her about the cute cup art if you don't want to see her stammering over her words, hair poofed up and face all flustered.

"Oooh she must really like you!" Anisa calls out when a cat cuddles up to you. The cat is a naturally cuddly one, but you don't have to know that; Anisa just wants her special person to feel special.

Sage

There aren't many things Sage likes about his job besides doing delivery on the motorcycle—anything just so he doesn't have to stay in that stuffy, cramped kitchenette. So what if he takes a few detours on the way back just to feel the breeze against his face? No one has to know.

He can't even listen to his favorite music inside the shop since he was permanently banned from choosing the day's playlist; not a single one is without an obscenely crude song.

The only other thing he likes about the job is the free food. He's not sure if it's actually free, but he doesn't really care.

Far more easy-going with rude customers than Felix is but less willing to indulge and smile through it like Anisa.

"We're all out of ___."

"Are you sure? Can you check in the back?"

Yeah, sure. Thanks for the smoke break.

Well I don't think he'd actually have a cig on him but he definitely has a flask tucked somewhere in the shirt he was forced to button up to the neck and tuck into his pants.

Otherwise he's quite flirtatious with customers, though more often than not he's just entertaining himself rather than actually expressing interest. Nothing too raunchy, but enough to make the shier customers blush and earn bashful laughter from the old ladies. His customer-service voice is just his casual flirty tone coupled with a lopsided-smile; you can just catch a little peak of that unnaturally sharp canine.

The only reason his manager has yet to fire him for his lack of punctuality and texting on the job is how easily Sage can charm customers and how many he has drawn in with his good looks. You don't even have to try that hard when you're 6'2" with luscious locks pulled into a high ponytail.

That, and he has a surprising talent in making latte art, mostly because Sage has practiced drawing rosetta so many times (yes, because it looks like a dick and he thought it was very funny).

Sure he'll remember your usual if you're a regular but this man is never going to remember your name; no, he won't feel apologetic about it. If he likes you, however...

Pushes his coworkers away the moment he sees your face even if he's supposed to be on break; no one can take your order, alright? No one prepares it like he does anyway.

Hey, he might even start being punctual to his shifts.

So what if he undoes one or two buttons on his shirt? The weather is just oh, so hot ;)

Starts flirting less with other customers and more with you. This is where his terrible pickup lines finally shine. He doesn't mind if you find them laughable; he just feels lucky to see you smile. The more ridiculous/stupid lines are saved for days when you look really down and might need a pick-me-up stronger than just coffee.

If you seem to be into his pickup lines and lack of subtlety, he might just throw the ball in your court by jotting his number down on your cup.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

42 w/ Kravitz and Taako if you would like?

42. Writing them a poem.

(101 ways to say I love you with actions) - still accepting!!

--

Taako really needed to stop taking advice from his family. Even more so, he needed to stop talking romantic advice from them, because they were a bunch of freaks. It was perfectly reasonable to stress about giving your partner a gift for your sixtieth anniversary (not that Taako was stressed, nuh-uh, not him). However, his family was a bunch of fucking weirdos who couldn't romance themselves properly, why what had he really been expecting?

He had to completely block out the conversation he had with Merle from his mind. And Barry's suggestion of "maybe he'd like some flowers?" was stupid. Lup's idea was full of fireworks, and actual fires, and also raising hell a little bit, and as much fun as it sounded, Taako did not want to make Kravitz go into work mode over a zombie serving him dinner.

Lucretia and Magnus, unruly and restless in the Astral Plane, were pieces of shit. Magnus had never had a good idea in his life. Julia tried but couldn't get a word in edge-wise as Magnus talked about their first date. Lucretia had suggested something frankly too sappy for Taako to even want to think about ("how about you propose finally? Sixty years is a long time to date-" "Ohhhh, look at the time, I can't stay to hear your brilliant ideas, so sad-")

Davenport had been his last hope. Which was why Taako was now, as to accordance Davenport's suggestion, attempting to write a poem.

Taako was not a poetry guy. He had already spent an hour erasing and rewriting shit and the best line he's got is "your eyes remind me of death and that's hot as shit".

(Were you allowed to swear in poetry????)

He was starting to regret not taking up Lup on the idea of the fiery explosions.

"Babe, you've been up here for ages," Kravitz said from the doorway and Taako jumped, slamming his hands down on the desk to cover up the paper. "I thought we were gonna watch Fantasy Bake Off tonight."

"Aw fuck," Taako groaned. "I forgot."

"It's alright," Kravitz said, closing the door behind him as he stepped closer. Taako put his whole upper body on the desk to block the paper now, trying to play it off as, uh.

"What're you doing?" Kravitz asked, poking at his shoulder. "What's- what's up with your body?"

"This is my guilt stretch," Taako said. "Cus' I feel so guilty I forgot. Ohnoo, you better go put it on, I'll be down in a minute. Just gonna, uhhh-" He patted the desk awkwardly, "finish some paperwork."

"Uh-huh," Kravitz said. "Paperwork."

"It's work on paper, yep," Taako said. "Go on now!"

"...Alright," Kravitz said slowly, backing away. "I'll go pull it up. And you'll...?"

"Be down in a second," Taako said.

"Once you're done with your paperwork?"

"Once I'm done with my paperwork."

"Right," Kravitz said. The door creaked open again. Taako began to sit back up when the door paused and Kravitz said, "Taako, darling?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't really care for poetry too much," Kravitz said gently. "Maybe the fireworks would be better?"

"Goddamn it," Taako said, pulling himself up and crumbling the paper. "Who fucking told you?"

"Barry," Kravitz said, laughing slightly. "You know he can't keep a secret."

"That fucking snitch," Taako said, tossing the paper in the bin. "I'll be down in a second. Shit. I'm gonna have a word with that man."

"Good luck, love," Kravitz said and closed the door.

[dreamiesdotcom]

shooting star | n.jm

Summary: You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold.

Word Count : 3.9k

The rooftop is big, but it feels a little crowded.

The addition of people is not bad, you think, especially since those people make your friends happy. By tradition, you welcome the New Year in this rooftop, playing music and games just like the other days but this time, with more food and... well, New Year stuff — fireworks, things to make noise with. The addition of people is not bad. If you're observant enough, it can even be entertaining.

As an example, if you look close enough, you'll see that Renjun and Jisung have been just friends for too long. That, in the sense of Renjun watching Jisung playfully ride the beat, a smile that tips over the line of finding his carelessness unbearable in a growing-more-in-love kind of way.

He looks lost, maybe even intoxicated in the other's laughter, admiring the way Jeno can make his best friend easily drop his shyness. Renjun looks like he wants to know how. If you look close enough, you'll see the regretful heart behind his faux scowl.

Renjun looks at Jeno and Jisung with longing, the kind you're familiar with. He turns to you, and you avert your gaze a little too late because he's giggling as he walks over to your direction.

"So, you saw me, huh?" He asks, handing you a glass of whatever drink he first laid his hands on, no 'happy new year' or any appropriate first greeting. He leans against the railings and sighs wistfully, "Look, do you ever just fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend?"

"Out of random?"

"You don't fall for people at random." Bewilderment crosses his face, and he turns to you the same time you look at him. You shrug, and he arches a brow, "You let that build up and wait for it to destroy you."

You let that build up — the words echo inside your head as you break eye contact. Right across, Donghyuck pulls away from hugging Jaemin with a bright smile, handing him a gift. Jaemin sets it down, and probably feels your gaze on him because he looks up and beams at you. Red flushes your cheeks. — and wait for it to destroy you.

"Toast to that, I guess," you smile, watching him pretend to judge you and fail. Chenle calls out his name for a picture before they set up the fireworks, and before Renjun detaches himself from you, he bumps the rim of his glass to yours. You sigh.

"To the love we wished deserved and didn't."

Shock engulfs his features, then he laughs and he repeats the words before he leaves. The sudden lack of company feels a little cold.

You look at the candle one of them randomly lit, looking at it in stupor before picking it up. The wax trickles and scorches your skin, but you don't wince like you probably would any other feeling day. You hold onto it firmly until its golden glow is close enough to your hands, warm enough that you could pretend it's about to set you on fire.

All so suddenly Jaemin is beside you, blowing off the flame. You watch at him in question until he smiles.

"That'll burn."

"That's alright," you fake a laugh. "I want for a lot of things to burn."

###

It all starts on a Wednesday, a fine afternoon spent sitting at a cafe, waiting for Donghyuck. Your notebook remains open at your side, empty and waiting to be filled with unabashed emotions. The past eight months were spent uninspired, and you decided to look around the place in search of something — maybe the vintage items, the ivory wallpapers, the beautiful chairs — anything.

Something comes in the form of nervous eyes and flushed cheeks, a boy sitting at the far right of the place. He sits alone, fingers tapping on the table, sunlight grazing his skin. You almost hated how cliche everything had been — a boy, an uninspired poet, hands that so desperately itch to write about faded pink hair and a lost angel.

Your gazes meet, and everything unfolds way too softly for it to not be love at first sight.

At that moment, you knew nothing that good should be real. At that moment, you knew nothing that good could be yours.

You were right.

Donghyuck comes in, and he waves at you excitedly before furrowing his brows. Your best friend had always been adorably one of a kind, but none of his weirdness could have prepared you for when he walks straight to the boy's table, and you were almost certain he caught you two staring at each other and is waiting to set you two up, until he's walking back to your table with the brightest grin, the boy beside him.

Their hands entwined.

"He's my boyfriend!" He squeals, "Oh hell, should've said his name first. He's Jaemin, and he's my boyfriend."

"Oh..." you nodded, hands subtly moving to close your notebook. "Uh. Hi."

They both stand in silence before they start cracking up, inevitably making you smile. You excuse your awkwardness, and Donghyuck introduces you two again, and you shake hands this time. You pretend you don't feel shivers run down your spine.

The day passed in blurs of sugar smiles, a love story, a dull throb in your heart. The poetry being written in your head never got finished.

###

The first time you realize it, the world seems to forget you were even born, Donghyuck's across the world with his parents, and solitude is eating you alive. You find yourself stumbling back to the same rooftop, plucking rose petals with a sad face.

It's probably petty — honestly, it is, but it's not just that. It's not that you wanted gifts, or you wanted attention; you wanted to just feel special, to know that someone is glad that once upon a time on this very day, you were born. To belong. To feel wanted. To be told "Happy Birthday" because you are important and should be celebrated.

And maybe it's also because you grew used to it, waking up to several different ways of saying 'Happy Birthday'. Maybe you were used to midnight greetings, to people forcing you out of bed at 6 am, to eating breakfast and lunch and dinner together. Your home had been so empty and to have your friends fill that gap even just for a day is something you look forward to every year — the mournful feeling is there again.

8 pm glares at you on your lock screen, and it reminds you that you can't do any of that now. You tip your head back and let your back hit the floor. Maybe if you look hard enough, you'll see a shooting star and it'll give you a little something.

"What're you doing?"

You look up, surprised but not alarmed. Jaemin's soft smile greets your sight.

"I'm laying down and waiting for a comet to strike me."

The sound of his camera constantly breaks the static, and you realize that he'd been taking pictures of the nightlife. He makes a noise that tells you he isn't convinced with your answer, but you don't entertain him anymore. You just watch him take as many polaroids as he can, and you laugh because suddenly, the only thoughts in your mind becomes 'pretty, pretty, pretty'.

You force a laugh, "It's my birthday."

"Is today your birthday!? Nobody told me!"

"It's not important. I mean, who celebrates birthdays these days, righ— Hey!" The familiar snap sounds again and you stand up from where you're laying down, ready to hit him, but then he gives you the film. You look at his hands and back up, "What's this?"

"My gift." He shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You take the picture from his hands, hesitant but relieved that it seemed to look nice, anyway. Jaemin smiles, "It's the image of an angel."

The world stops.

It's ridiculous and cheesy, even he knew that; the two of you laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't the kind of laughter that fades after a minute, but rather the kind that stops for a while only to start up again. The sound grows louder with each passing moment, and your eyes meet, but you don't stop until you both become embarrassed enough to blush; neither of you look away.

 Maybe you are in love.

Maybe you are in love, and maybe he is too — except this time, it's not with Donghyuck, who it should be.

###

"It's you I meet again," Jaemin chimes. "What's up, buttercup? What are you doing here, a coffee shop, at 3 am?"

You look around the cafe, the tables empty. You briefly wonder about when Jaemin started working here before you realize you're unnecessarily curious. You press your lips into a thin line, looking for someone.

"I'd like to assume you already know." Your forehead creased when you noticed the unusual absence, "Where's my favorite boy?"

"Am I not your favorite boy?"

Jaemin pouts, and heaven, how it made your heart skip. You blink, spending the moment in silence, waiting for him to give up. "You are, indeed, not my favorite boy," You smile sweetly. "Where's Renjun?"

"I'm here because he's not. Do I seem like I work here? I was drinking coffee before he passed me an apron and left."

You roll your eyes, a poor attempt at keeping in the words of agreement — you kind of do, you look pretty, I could write so much about you — and you pretend to want nothing but get your drink. It takes an eternity before he lets you go, but once he does, you get comfortable on a table and whip out your notebook.

You look down on the first page, tracing the neatly written words — a confession if anybody who knows you gets to read it. A confession more than a dedication.

To the boy I shouldn't have loved.

The very same shooting star who gifted me a lifetime of heartbreak.

You heave a heavy sigh. You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold. From that moment, every word you write is either about lights so bright you don't forget how beautiful he was under them, or something so strong it erases every trace of him from your system.

Jaemin leaves the counter and takes the chair across you. You look at him in confusion.

"I don't think you can do that?"

"I just did so I suppose, I can definitely do that." He smiles brightly. "So, what're we doing?"

You eye your notebook before quickly closing it, and then your half-finished cup of coffee. It's still dark outside with only some cars and people passing by, none of them interested in coming inside the cozy place. You say something about just being about to leave, and you look at him as if to say whatever's inside your head. Then, you stand up and walk away.

"Stay," he whispers, light enough that you'd think you weren't supposed to hear.

You swallow the lump in your throat when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, cold against warm, and you don't have to look at his face to know of the begging stare he has directed for you at the moment. You try to look away but you feel weak, so weak that you could only manage a thin, shivering voice.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

Then don't, the voice in your head whispers, the selfish one; the greedy one, the desperate one. In reality, you close your eyes and tug your hands back because what's wrong is wrong, and what's wrong can never be right.

###

The rain clouds come one of the many times Jaemin asks for you to accompany him, and the storm looms darker above you with each genuine 'yes'.

The way this set up started had been pretty simple — hanging out together as friends, getting closer for Donghyuck's comfort; best friend-boyfriend bonding as he called it. For a while, it was everything. It's just your best friend trying to get you to trust his boyfriend, getting to know each other, and that's all — that's the truth.

It was friendship until it wasn't, and that was the truth until it was not anymore.

The night was peaceful so you didn't expect anything to go wrong, but expectations aren't always accurate. The sea looks calm, the moon brighter than all the other days. Jaemin's playing a somber song, something magical that just fits right for him and bittersweet love. His eyelashes flutter in a way gentle enough to drive you crazy, his perfume mingling with the cold night sea breeze, and it's too much that it drives you insane.

"What's wrong?" He asks as if he already knows the answer. "You're not telling me something."

It's been three months and a year since you and Jaemin started hanging out alone, and the swirling guilt in your gut is unnecessary because you're not even doing anything wrong.

It's the fleeting moments, you think, those lingering touches whenever you try to take from him the keys — "I'll drive," you'd whisper when you see yet again that look. Jaemin would smile, "What, scared I'll crash? I'm not stupid." — and when he doesn't give them, you sigh heavily with a hopeful look in your eyes. "Where to?" You'd ask even if you didn't care, and he would let himself forget the world as he opens the door for you, whispering words only a dreamer would say: "Stars."

And maybe it's where everything goes wrong. He shouldn't dream much for hopeless cases.

"Hey, shooting star," you call. He arches a brow at the nickname, but you ignore him. "Do you love me?"

"Would you hate me if I do?"

"You're dating my best friend, so of course, fuck you." You chuckle, shaking your head. "I hate myself more, so don't take it personally."

You meet his gaze, and the world shifts yet again just like at that moment in the coffee shop — angel boy, uninspired poet. He looked at you the same way he did weeks ago at the New Year's Party, that in the way his eyes are saying so many words for him to not be in love with you. Except now, he's much closer. Except now, in the confinements of his car, nobody to witness but the sea and the stars, he's leaning in and his breath is tickling your skin.

Except now, he's about to kiss you and you're not stopping him.

I can't, the rational part of you whispered. You say that you can't, but you're almost always on the edge of something and you're brave enough to consider through the guilt; you hate to admit it but that's the truth. You say that you can't, but at the same time, you don't draw yourself away from him — why?

Because in each and every one of this I can't's is the nasty truth that reads I want to.

You look at the water, and you chase your thoughts out with a dive. Jaemin's lips are still hovering above yours, and maybe if you weren't so numb you'd feel his heartbeat. You want to tear away, you want to run home and make a call and cry a litany of apologies. You want so much. You want so much, but what you want the most at the moment is for him to do what you can't and just kiss you already — you'd rather break yourself than not have this.

You close your eyes and decide that whatever will come tomorrow is something you deserve. You'll break your heart and ruin your world just for a kiss, and he'll leave — but you'll know that for a while he loved you and everything else is forgotten. You choose him and you forget all the consequences.

Just for once, just tonight. Just right now you'll let yourself indulge. Just this time he can have everything.

Right before your lips crash, you catch yourself and swim.

"Would you give me what I want, because you love me?"

Your words come out raspy, your eyes glistening with tears. Jaemin smiles in a manner just as heartbreaking, "What do you want?"

Not him — dear moon, I want him so bad, but I can't — definitely not him.

"I want fire so hot it burns away all the bad thoughts in my head." You suppress a sob as you move away, leaning back on the seat, clutching the fabric of your clothes as if to search for any semblance of sanity. "I want light so bright I forget you."

"What… what?"

You look at him with pure misery, "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Jaemin doesn't reply, but he starts up the car and makes a turn. You close your eyes hoping that everything could just be washed away by the rain, and you don't look at him for the rest of the drive.

###

Never in your life did you even think of living life without your best friend. That just can't happen, and so, why give it a thought, right? You're with him all the time, and he's been there since you can remember, and it wouldn't make sense if one day you wake up and he's all too suddenly not there anymore. You're certain that he's not going anywhere, and even if you're unsure of what the future holds, you aren't so worried.

If you knew, maybe you should have been.

"Hyuck?"

"Are you gonna remind me of the time I almost drowned and you told me you'll kill me if I die?"

"I'm leaving."

The traces of his previous chuckles disappear, and it seems like a movie scene with the way yours bloom tragically as you watch colored lights reflect on his skin. Then, as if sunrise, a slow smile etches on his face. A brief moment of regret and pain crosses his eyes before love overtakes it.

"You don't have to." He murmurs, sight still cast at the sea. Both his hands are tucked in his pockets in such a leisure way, and then he casually peers at you, "You don't have to leave because I'm not mad."

The sea makes the wind blowing even colder, and suddenly, the docks that used to warm you with sunlight feels cold as snow.

He knows... of course, he knows. Donghyuck saw your iridescence from every side and he knew how everything looked by heart; of course, he knew, he's your best friend, after all. Oh, how evil you are. How evil you are for loving the boy who belongs with him. How evil you are that even after that, Donghyuck reaches for your hands and you let him hold you; you let him smile at you sweetly, you let him calm you still.

"How can I even get mad at you? I love you more than anything in this world," he chuckles, and it breaks your heart. "You're my best friend and I'll give Jaemin up if I have to, if that will make you happy."

If that will make you happy... if it will make me happy... why did I do that to you, love? How did I manage to... oh, sweet heavens.

"You're all I need forever," you answer weakly, breathless and breathing all the same in his hug. It's your way of saying no, absolutely no, your sadness would never make me happy. You thank the high heavens that he couldn't see your face and the pain in it when you whisper, "But at the moment, this is what I need. Distance."

The first tear falls from Donghyuck's eyes, and the sudden drizzle of rain washes it off him. You look up to him and see longing, wondering just why it had to be this way, almost begging you you stay. He looked like he's about to send the world away if it meant that you won't have to leave, but the truth burns down to your determination, that he always admired: you have made your mind and there's no stopping you. You know what is best for yourself, and Donghyuck trusts you.

Set yourself free, Donghyuck whispers before he walks home. After that, please come back to me.

###

When you meet Jaemin ten hours before you leave, he's standing at the very same place Donghyuck was the day before. He's wearing a similar jacket, standing in a similar manner, looking just as beautiful against the water. The only thoughts running inside your head is how perfect they are.

"Jaemin."

Not even 'shooting star' anymore.

He turns at the call of his name, and you're still standing on both of your feet, but it feels like diving deep. His skin reflects the very same lights Donghyuck's did, but it looked kind of different — be it red or yellow, white or the shadows; everything looked midnight blue. It feels like standing on a cliff and almost tipping over, eternally almost tipping over and falling into blue nothingness.

Jaemin smiles, not happy but breaking. It makes you hold your breath.

He laughs, "Don't break my heart."

"In the next life." Because it's all that you could have. You return his smile, "I hope I deserve you in the next life."

His laughter rings in your ear, but it doesn't make you laugh at all; instead, it makes you want to sob or scream or just hurt, yet again, to savor the pain because he doesn't want you to but it's all he could give. It feels claustrophobic to align in a way that's everything meeting with your soulmate should be, with someone who's not your soulmate. Or you are indeed soulmates, but not the ones destined to be together like that. Just two wholes that compliment each other but are meant to be torn apart.

"I just said don't break my heart, what did you do?" He tries to crack a joke, walking the last step to be closer to you. He tilts his head in that charming way, "Why did I fall in love with you?"

"Hey, Jaem... you're not. Forget that. Love him." You shake your head, fixing the collar of his shirt, an excuse for one last guiltless touch. Your voice breaks, "He's my best friend. I love him more than the world."

And just as he is to me, I would rather let you go and make him happy, you smiled at yourself. I'd rather you make each other happy.

"I know." he croaks out, a fragile smile on his face. "In the next life?"

You try to imagine a life where Jaemin isn't haunting your thoughts; you can't. For a moment, you fear meeting someone else and not being able to love them because they're not him. You fear that they'd be kinder, softer, gentler than Jaemin and you won't be able to love them back because oh, Jaemin was just right; he was too much but in a way where it's just enough — Jaemin who looks at you like you hold galaxies, Jaemin who would risk the world, Jaemin who is with your best friend. The doomed play goes on and you think again of a life where he isn't what you desperately love, and realize that indeed, hopefully, in the next life.

In the next life, because this love feels right but it's not. In the next life, because it's painful but you'll love him still again and again and again until your stars finally agree.

"In the next life." You nod, fingers clenching on the straps of your bag. You look at the ocean ahead of you, and the lights it reflects, and then you close your eyes as you feel the wind.

"Until then, shooting star."

—

yellow tags 💛

coffee shop

untitled1

[bookwyrminspiration]

What would each bodyguard be like as a 12 year old? I remember me and my little friend group as 12 year olds and now we are all much older but it makes me laugh to think about

I feel like Sandor would be a Minecraft kid. You know the kid I’m talking about, the annoying one

Ro would probably be going through an emo phase tbh

Grizel would be a popular mean girl

Anyways yea I would love to hear your take on this

1/19/22

-Mossy

I was right I do have another ask about the bodyguards from you in my inbox! I don't know what about them appeals to you (and what about them being 12yos specifically, as this is not the first time it's been brought up) but it's definitely an interesting perspective to take. (update: turns out I started talking about everyone as students instead of just 12 year olds. hope that's okay)

For Sandor, I'm actually not quite sure what kind of kid you're talking about as I mostly ignored everyone else in class when I was 12, but! The annoying kid does seem accurate--I think he'd get on everyone else's nerves because of his rigidity and strict adherence to something no one else understands. He's the kind of 12 year old who would ask about homework and remind the teacher about turning things in, and everyone else resents him for it. He's just doing his job--I think he'd either be the kind of kid to do an entire project on his own, or to take control and force everyone else to work and report to the teacher when his classmates aren't doing their part. Just a thought.

Then Ro...I think she'd be more punk than emo, and that Bo would be emo. Ro would be the kind of kid who's really loud all the time and who talks during lectures and never shuts up. She doesn't turn in her homework because she just doesn't want to, and she draws graffiti in the bathroom stalls. Oh you know the "cookie monster pajamas hot cheeto girl" stereotype? That kind of energy, if amplified into chaos, feels like Ro. She just doesn't want to do what people tell her to do, and flaunts her defiance in their faces.

Now Bo...Bo feels like the emo kid to me. He's got the really forward hair (like this) and it's always getting in his eyes. Maybe sometimes it has some color in it and it's so straightened it's practically burnt. But he never talks to anyone and he's got the "nobody understands me" kind of vibe. He listens to loud music and refuses to make friends, writes dark poetry (that he will cringe at years later), and is really moody. The general resentment he seems to have against the world feels like it would fit.

And Grizel!! I agree completely with your assessment, she'd be super popular. But she'd probably tease people a lot and not always known when she's crossed the line because she's having fun. She buts into other people's lives and conversations and likes to know what's going on. She's frequently peer pressuring people and making deals with them, like betting with them. No doubt she'd be super well known though, and she's absolutely own it. I do feel like her and Ro would get into a lot of trouble together if they take bets with each other, and they would not spare each other at all when it came to gossip. Ro is good at getting people to talk and about asking the right questions (albeit obnoxiously) and Grizel is good and being sneaky and observing things to get information. Together they'd be unstoppable.

I wonder if any of the bodyguards would have had an anime phase, as that is very popular among people of that age group at the moment. My sister and legit all of her friends watch anime and she's 11, so I think one of them has to have an anime phase, but I'm unsure which one.

(also damn you putting the date of when you sent this and calling me out on how long it takes to respond!! I don't actually mind though)

[bijoumikhawal]

For the fic thing! How did they start having lunch anyway? (Because that is a GREAT question)

This is actually probably gonna end up being for your literature discussion thing going on though i started writing it before lol

So, we do we know about Julian? He's a nerd. He knows enough about Bajoran composers to confidently say he finds certain ones derivative, and he shares that opinion with Kira to try and bond. He also fails, and is a pretty lonely person. After a few weeks of this, perhaps the offer of enjoyable company from a certain old queen tailor comes to mind, who surely enjoys art. Featuring, Julian being quite bit of a horndog

Julian planned it carefully. He had a pair of uniform trousers that had been ordered a bit too long and a bit too loose in the waist, and he would take those down to Garak and get them fitted, and then he would casually go, oh I was wondering what you know about human literature, and it would all seem natural.  This went well until the fitting part. Julian hasn't factored in that since Garak didn't have his measurements and Julian did not keep them, that Garak would need to take them. Which is how he ended up staring down at a head of glossy black hair as Garak knelt by his feet. Concurrent thoughts about saving that imagery for later, how that couldn't be good for his knees, and so on mixed together.  "Something on your mind, Doctor?"  "Ah- yes. How could you tell?"  "You don't seem the type to be quiet for so long." Garak glanced upwards to give him a sly look.  Julian felt embarrassment curling up in the space between his shoulder blades. "I don't- sorry if I've annoyed you." This might've been a mistake already.  Garak rose as though he wasn't at least 40, by Julian's shaky estimation. "Oh, hardly. Cardassians consider conversation to be an art form, and so far you're passable." There was a tease to it, but as was often the case, Julian couldn't tell if he was in on the joke or not. "Now that I have your measurements, considering what other work I have to do, your pants should be ready in two days. I'll send you a message once they're finished as a reminder."  Julian nodded, and hesitated, letting Garak turn away from him. "Garak."  He turned again- full body, and Julian wondered if the neck structures of Cardassians made it so they couldn't turn their heads so easily. "Yes, doctor?"  "You mentioned being glad to make an open minded friend after you met me."  "I said an 'interesting friend', to be precise." Still that indication of humor. Julian wrestled his nerves back into place. "Though I did also call you open minded."  Julian decided that he was meant to be in on the joke, then. "Yes, well, I don't have an edeitic memory, so pardon my lapse." He tried to inject humor into it from his end as well. "As it were, I was wondering if you yourself would be open minded to some artistic discussion with a friend."  Garak blinked at him in a very slow, deliberate way that reminded Julian faintly of a housecat. "What sort of art, doctor?"  "I'm wiling to discuss anything- music, literature, calligraphy, paintings, architecture." He'd prefer not to discuss architecture, but he understood it well enough. "Though perhaps, since I asked, I should ultimately pick the first work."  Garak turned away from him again and set down his sizing scanner. Anxiety began to well again, before he suddenly spoke. "Literature. No poetry- I doubt we share a language that contains anything decent, and I cannot bear translated poetry. You can tell me your choice when you pick these," he held up the offending trousers, "up in a few days."  "Any requests?"  Garak turned- just his torso this time, which did nothing to disprove his theory- and had a slight smile. "Since you inquired about my open mindedness, bring something Terran."

[mysterystarz]

did you really think I was gonna say that and not give you akaashi headcanons? 🤨🤨

anyways some of these are general akaashi headcanons and some are romantic ones

☆ he's not the best at art, but he learned basic anatomy + sketching techniques just to create portraits of you

☆ he's really great at poetry and creative/descriptive writing though and writes about you and generally the way you make him feel

☆ once compared you to grass though 💀 but it turned out kinda nice because it was a metaphor for how even when people hurt you you always come back and you keep him (the dirt) from being washed away and stuff 🥺

☆ he has a good singing voice. I think he'd be a tenor, and his voice is good for jazz he can also play the piano really well (it's those long setter fingers 😩)

☆ he loves flowers and either has little potted ones around place or a small garden outside. you've caught him talking to the plants about you. all good things, of course. I think his favorites would be lillies (the white ones I think) but idk much about flowers

☆ he likes to get you jewelery (bruh how do you spell that???), especially engraved jewelery. sometimes it's got random dates on it and you have to ask him what happened that day, and he'll start telling you about something you thought was small but meant a lot to him that happened that day. usually it's a day when you two had a date and he felt it should be remembered.

☆ he really likes musicals. not as in he's a theatre kid (though he could be) but more like he loves the stories and how they're told through song and dance.

☆ he annotates his books. sometimes you'll borrow one from him to read and find he's underlined and written about things that made him think of you 😭

☆ he's very romantic but he doesn't necessarily try to be. he's also naturally very aesthetic.

☆ he can tap dance. I've literally been in tap dancer akaashi brainrot since I listened to "King of new york" from newsies 😭😭 and he's so HOT when he tap dances, he's really good at it but he hasn't practiced/done lessons in forever, so he's a little rusty. but he used to do competitions and stuff and was extremely good at the dance.

☆ I feel like although he doesn't really seem like one to do so, he uses reaction memes in texts somewhat often. not just the affectionate ones, but also the "😐" or aggressive ones (very hot of him to use reaction memes 😌)

☆ he collects mugs! he drinks coffee in the morning so he needed some mugs at first, but then he started getting one wherever he traveled to as a souvenir (and he doesn't travel too often, whether it's for vacation or business it's usually around every other year or something) and now he has a whole cupboard of mugs

☆ he also likes tea. and while i feel like he prefers his coffee somewhat bitter, he usually adds milk to his tea. I think he's also a big fan of boba tea, and his favorite (mine too) is milk tea (made with black tea) with brown sugar and boba

☆ his dream home is an industrial apartment (is that what it's called?) with a balcony or patio. he likes the city since he's from tokyo... I think. he'd love to live somewhere where the skies are clear and he can see the stars, but he's gotta live near the city for work 🥲 though some stars are visible, at least, from that patio

☆ he likes to wear rings. even though he's lowkey insecure about his fingers and rings would draw more attention to them, he likes to fidget with the accessories

☆ he's really good at braiding hair. he hasn't really practiced, he's just a natural. first time he braided your hair it looked really good and both of you were kinda shocked. he's pretty good at hair things in general, actually.

☆ loves holding hands. LOVES LOVES LOVES HOLDING HANDS.

☆ he really likes fuzzy blankets. whenever he's on the couch he's wrapped up in one.

☆ one of his favorite cuddle positions is with you sitting on his lap, curled up almost cat-like with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you. and a fuzzy blanket.

☆ he has really long, dark eyelashes and it's so pretty.

☆ he likes talking to you about his dreams and he likes hearing about yours.

☆ he's down to try anything with you. you want to try veganism? he'll join you. want to learn a language? so does he. want to get a tarot reading? what a coincidence, he was thinking the same thing!

☆ he has a little tattoo above his right ankle. it looks exactly like this ☆ and it remind him of you 🥺

have a great week ily nova 😊

OH MY GOODNESS JACK THIS MADE ME SMILE SO WIDE I HAVE RE READ THIS SO MANY TIMES THANK YOU THIS ACTUALLY MADE MY WEEK AJXJAJXNANDNWNDNSN 🥺🥺🥺🤩🤩😭🥰🥰😭😭😳🥺😩💕💕🤩🤩😩😩🥺😩😩😩🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😩💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 IT WAS ADORABLE

more of my reactions under the cut because yes

- thinking of keiji playing the piano always gets me so soft because i can think of his fingers pressing the keys and it just be so perfect (and i’ve thought of some other scenarios with pianos too it’s cute!!)

- the fact that i actually LOVE white lillies too theyre so pretty omg :00

- TAP DANCER KEIJI GOODNESS MY HEART TAP DANCING KEIJI INTRICATE FOOTWORK OH MY GOODNESS I — 😳

- WE CAN WRITE POETRY TOGETHER ILL KISS HIM TOO I LOVE THAT!!

- REACTIONMEMESREACTIONMEMESREACTIONMEMES HE IS SO SEXY ALREADY BUT HE JUST GOT SEXIER

- i’m also super sentimental so the engraved jewelry (wtf is that word) IS SO CUTE and i would love that <33 it’s so sweet to see the sentiments too!!

- HE ANNOTATES HIS BOOKS OFF OF ME MY HEART JUST WENT WHOOOOSH 💕💕😩😩🥺🥺

- NO WAY I COLLECT MUGS TOO IS THIS SOULMATE STUFF BECAUSE I LOVE COLLECTING MUGS

- I ALSO LIKE MY COFFEE BITTER BUT MY TEA SWEET-ISH OH MY GOODNESS?!?! THIS IS PERFECT!!!

- JACK HOW DID YOU KNOW I HAVE A THING FOR FUZZY BLANKETS HOW HOW BECAUSE CUDDLING WITH FUZZY BLANKETS OR JUST SITTING WITH ONE IS SOMETHING I DO OH MY GOODNESS 💕💕💕✨✨✨😩💕

- pretty voice 😳😳😳 yes he would and yes

- i think an industrial apartment with keiji would be so cute <33

- I WILL HOLD HANDS WITH HIM ANYTIME ANYTIME ANYTIME

- i would kiss his fingers when he’s wearing rings and when he’s not because i love him 🥰🥰🥰

- t-talks about our dreams and tries things with me?!? I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I CANNOT FUNCTION THATS MY MAN

- the fact that you literally think he would draw me 🥺🥺🥺🥺 MY HEART

- i would totally watch musicals with him <33 i like them too for the exact same reason actually (jack i’m not even kidding how scary it is that you got our personalities down perfectly it’s astounding)

- STAR TATTOO KEIJI OH MY GOODNESS I AM 😳😳😳 WOW OMG THAT IS SURPRISINGLY HOT OH MY — suddenly i want to match

in conclusion :: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS JACK IM STILL SMILING SO WIDE THANK YOU 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[brother-genitivi]

Summary: A nervous Arda goes to meet Jaal’s family for the first time, two lads kissin, Arda comes to terms with his loneliness

Pairing: Arda Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (mention of anxiety)

Word Count: 1.5k

"What is bothering you, Ryder?"

Arda turned to face Jaal, the sweet faced Angara he was falling head over armoured heels for. Ugh, were his hands sweating? He sheepishly rubbed his clammy palms on the legs of his trousers, managing a pitiful shrug in reply.

"There is no need to worry." Jaal put a hand on Arda’s quivering shoulder. “My family will like you, I am sure.”

Arda’s heart leapt into his throat at the contact. He sighed deeply and reached for the bag he stowed away under his seat. As the shuttle drew to a stop at Jaal’s home, Arda attempted to relax.

"Jaal? Jaal!" His true mother, Sahuna, ran forward to embrace her son. Arda squashed down a painful pang of jealousy. He rarely received hugs from his father (though he got many from his twin and mother) while he was still alive, and yet to Jaal and Sahuna it seemed like a habit… like it happened all the time. Knowing Angaran culture, it probably did.

"Wait, is there bad news?"

"No, no," Jaal gestured to Arda who waved awkwardly in turn, adjusting a curl that had fallen in front of his eyes. "The Pathfinder is interested in where I grew up. Arda, this is my true mother, Sahuna Ama Darav."

Arda smiled and greeted her with a hug.  His shoulders slumped in relief almost instantly.

"It’s wonderful to meet you! I hear the Angara like hugging," he said, then added hastily, "I do too, but we don't usually have enough time for hugs in my line of work."

To his surprise, Sahuna swept him into another one, surely to make up for all the hugs he missed out on. For a split-second Arda had to resist the urge to cry. He'd been there for less than two minutes and already felt like he was at home.

“Jaal’s told me about how much he admires you.”

Arda couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He glanced at Jaal, a warm buzz replacing the crushing weight within his chest. “Really?”

“He’s my favourite,” Sahuna beamed fondly at her son. Arda noted her eyes crinkled the same way Jaal’s did when he smiled. “He’s smart. Loyal. Kind. A great shot. Writes poetry…”

“Mother…” If Angara could blush, Jaal certainly would have then.

“Ah, I’m late for a Resistance meeting.” Sahuna put her hands on both Arda and Jaal’s shoulders. “Stay clear.”

“One last thing,” Arda called out to her as she walked to the shuttle. “What should I call you? Sahuna, or Miss Ama Darav?”

Sahuna seemed to ponder for a second, but she’d known the answer as soon as she was asked. “Arda, you can call me anything you’d like. ‘Mother’, if you so wish. Now, go on. Have fun!”

Arda made a mental reminder to bake something special for Sahuna later. She deserved the best of his baking capabilities. Even then he couldn’t believe what Sahuna had said. Jaal actually talked about him to his mother! He considered that one of the highest of compliments.

“Let’s go inside,” Arda broke the comfortable silence, a new-found confidence rising within himself. “I’m excited to meet the rest of your family.”

“After you. Everyone, this is Arda.”

Arda waved good-naturedly, observing the room. When Jaal mentioned having a large family, Arda thought he meant five or six family members. He did a quick head count and ended up having to start over again. Despite the main room being full of people, it felt neither claustrophobic nor crowded. It was obvious to Arda everyone enjoyed each other's company. He squinted suspiciously at the tranquil scene in front of him, thinking back to the interactions he used to have with his father. They couldn’t go two minutes without arguing. But Jaal’s family? They seemed so… healthy.

“This is wonderful! It feels so warm and cosy here,” Arda mused, setting his bag on the table.

“We like to live like this.” Jaal smiled briefly, leading Arda to his room. “My tiny sanctuary.”

Jaal’s room was mostly tidy aside from a few scattered books and pages of what looked like poetry. Arda couldn’t be sure; most of the leather bound pages were covered in illustrations of galaxies and constellations he didn’t recognise. They didn’t look like any stars he knew from the Heleus Cluster either. 

“We have this saying and, uh, I think it applies here. ‘Home is where the heart is’.”

Jaal chuckled, then stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on a box sitting on his bed. “Oh, who put this here?”

Arda sat next to him, knees brought into his chest. Their shoulders bumped for just a second, but it was enough to send his stomach in twists. He instinctively leaned his head into the crook of Jaal’s neck.

“So-” Arda squeaked as Jaal returned the gesture, resting his head on top of his own. He cleared his throat and peered into the box. “These a-are schematics?”

“When I was seven, my aunt stole a kett weapon for me. So I took it apart. To learn.”

“Makes sense. Ooh, and that is - was - a kaerkyn.”

“Pet kaerkyn,” Jaal corrected him. “Alfit. He died. So I also took him apart.”

“Once again, makes sense. If you learnt from him, then why not?”

“Exactly. I don’t really show people these things…”

Jaal pushed the box away and held Arda by the arms.

“You make my heart sing. I want us to be together.”

Arda blinked slowly at him. Did he hear that right? He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his warm face.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied breathlessly.

“Yes!” Jaal laughed gleefully, prompting Arda to laugh with him. That was a sound he never wanted to forget. He looked into Jaal’s eyes and found himself lost in them. They reminded Arda of the days he spent searching for marine life by the local rockpools, or the nights he spent stargazing alone, watching the stars dot the sky like lights on a patchwork quilt of blue and black.

“I adore you.”

Jaal took Arda’s face in his hands, thumbs gently tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Arda giggled like an idiot as their noses bumped together. Warmth spread through his chest as their lips grazed each other, tentatively, softly, for the first time. They drew apart slowly, bearing twin expressions of contentedness.

“Let me show you something else you might like.” Jaal helped Arda up from the bed, reflexively squeezing his colder hands. “Lie down.”

Arda stared into the ceiling and gasped as Jaal flicked a small switch, illuminating the room in hues of soft blue and purple. He was looking at a cluster- no, a whole galaxy of revolving stars and planets.

“These are the stars in your pages,” Arda observed, pointing at the flickering dots, then at the pieces of paper distributed around. “It’s beautiful. Did you make that?”

“Long ago. It’s not accurate. More of a dream, really. Just one more thing I want to take apart and figure out.” Jaal stole a glance at Arda. Did all humans look this cute while concentrating? 

“Ah, Jaal...” Arda placed a hand over Jaal’s and squeezed it tenderly. 

“And now I have someone to do it with.”

For a few moments they lay there unbothered, no sound except for their steady breathing and whirring of the projector. As he watched the ceiling transform into a symphony of lapis and indigo, he thought back to the evenings where he would drag a blanket onto the roof and analyse the ever changing sky. Every single time Arda did it, he was by himself. He would have invited his twin, but she was always asleep, or away at boarding school.

He used to write stories about exploring the galaxy in a huge ship, away from the tense arguments between him and his father. He would dance wistfully to slow music under the moonlight, careful not to disturb the small birds nesting in the gutter, singing under his breath and telling secrets to the open air with only the stars as his witness. He felt so free, so alive, and so frightfully alone.

Arda brought Jaal’s hand to his lips, sighing again. That horrid weight in his chest was back.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Arda made out through shaky breaths. Great. An anxiety attack. Of course it has to be right now, he thought bitterly. “Uh, maybe not yes. I don’t know. Well, I do. It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me,” Jaal said, rubbing Arda’s arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ve noticed humans are much more secluded with their emotions.”

Arda wrung his hands together, offering his boyfriend a small smile. “Honestly? I just want to go onto a rooftop under the stars and have a picnic.”

“Well...” Jaal gestured to the room around them. “It’s no roof, but we have stars and we have food.”

Jaal helped his darling one to his feet, heart swelling with adoration for the short human in front of him. If Arda wanted a picnic, he would get a picnic.

“Jaal? Thank you.” And he meant it. Because for the first time since he was sixteen, Arda wouldn’t have to watch the stars alone. He finally had someone to do it with.