#also he doesn’t like caffeine but he likes the taste of coffee so he drinks decaf

[jitteryjive]

im only a little off on the posting for this one but tulip birthday.. i like to thing he has a big birthday extravaganza some other day but his actual birthday is just spent relaxing with his family :3

[twilghtkoo]

pairings. jungkook x bookworm!reader (f)

genres/aus. fluff, established relationship

warnings. jk loves calling reader ‘sweetheart’, mentions of reader’s anxiety, and a short kiss(makeout?) scene, not proofread!

notes. i actually loved writing the first drabble of jungkook x bookworm!reader and i can’t sleep and currently rewatching the twilight movies as im writing this so here’s this :D likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

[ masterlist ]

—

you can’t remember when you had told yourself, one more chapter. but apparently it’s been long considering it’s almost three in the morning. the ice in your coffee has melted into a smaller ice cube, so you take a big sip. not wanting the ice to water down the sweet, creamy taste.

coffee late at this hour doesn’t affect you no more. you drink it now for the taste more than anything. you can thank school and those tiring days of studying hunched over a table. the amount of energy drinks and coffee you’ve consumed should be concerning but you gotta do what you gotta do.

if jungkook was here, he would’ve had a fit and told you drinking caffeine at this hour is bad for you.

but he’s not. he’s at a late night practice and he told you he’s not sure he’ll be able to come over.

you have your two pillows propped up against your headboard, your book nuzzled against your thighs and your stuffed animal under your arm. your bedside lamp creating the perfect lighting for you to see and the perfect atmosphere.

you’re deep into your book, too engrossed in the plot between the love interests that you don’t hear keys jingle and a door softly shut and echo in the quiet night of your home.

you still don’t hear the soft feet padding towards your bedroom until your door opens, revealing your boyfriend.

he looks as if he’s freshly showered, the ends of his hair are damp and stringy, and his face is bare and cheeks a soft red. that’s how it looks after he finishes his skincare routine, he must have rushed over here.

he grins when he sees you’re awake and so do you when you see him, placing your bookmark inside and setting it down next to you. you sit up on your knees, eager to touch him and kiss him, realizing again how much you miss him despite seeing him this morning. that was almost 24 hours ago.

but his eyes maneuver to the coffee that’s condensing, making a puddle on the coaster.

he squints his eyes at you. and it feels almost as if you’ve been caught as a child. you lower yourself to sit on the back of your shins.

“hi kookie,” you smile, acting innocent.

“don’t kookie me. how many times have i told you to stop drinking coffee so late, it’s almost three. you’re not gonna sleep.” he tells you again, sternly. reaching behind his neck to take off his crewneck in one swift movement, the shirt underneath scrunches up with the sweater, revealing his abs. and you can’t help but ogle while you’re being scolded. you can’t blame me.

you frown, “i know, i know. but you know reading and drinking coffee goes hand in hand. i wanted to enjoy reading my book and–“

he moves towards you, placing his knee on the foot of the bed, crawling shortly til he reaches you. his nose brushing yours and his eyes half-lidded. the soft scent of his shampoo and brief smell of mint swallows you, bringing that familiar comfort.

“sweetheart, i know. but caffeine also doesn’t mesh well with your anxiety. you know that. it’s fine to drink it once or twice during the day but late at night is a no.” he softly warns, tilting his chin upwards to catch your lips with his.

it was meant to be a quick kiss but your fingers reach to hold his face, tugging him closer to you until you’re lying on your back and he’s on top. his hands placed on both sides of your head, caging you in, straddling you. both your hands trail its way down from his neck down to his chest, stomach and then they find its home at his waist. pulling him down til his front weighs pressure on your sensitive spot.

both of you moan into the kiss, and your sweet sound sends an alert to jungkook. before you both get carried away, he pulls back, kissing you once more before pulling away.

he hums, deliciously. “though coffee does taste best coming from you.” he gazed at you, eyes shining and lips slightly red. no doubt, you look the same.

“i thought you weren’t coming tonight.” you say questioningly, watching him move your book next to your coffee so he can lie underneath the covers with you. once he’s settled in, he has an arm resting behind his head and the other resting around you.

“i wasn’t, but i really wanted to sleep with you and i wanna make you breakfast in the morning. i saw a recipe i wanna try.” you hum in response, trying to nuzzle your head deeper into his warmth but his t-shirt is blocking what you want.

you tug at his shirt without saying anything and he understands. he sits up quickly to shrug off the fabric, tossing it across the room to land beside his bag before lying back down, holding you.

he lets out a dramatic sigh, “ahh, this is my favorite thing in the world.” turning on his side, you following so you’re both facing each other, legs tangled together.

“i missed you too.” you whispered. he didn’t say it but he didn’t have to, his answer was enough.

your head nestled underneath his chin and against his chest, you kiss the skin.

“what chapter are you on?” he asks, his voice deeper than it was, slumber almost taking over him.

“twenty-eight, i’m almost done with it.”

he hums. “did you start the book today?”

he feels you nod. “my little bookworm.” he coos, scratching your back softly with the tips of his fingers. “go to sleep, sweetheart.”

and you do.

[rintoorou]

ALOHA, HAWAII — ix. old habits

(wc: 870-ish)

you’re wide awake and your head is spinning. 

you’ve been in meetings since the afternoon, only peeling away from your computer screen to refill your mug with water or tea. you were so engrossed in your work that the last bits of food you had were lunch—almost 11 hours ago. only the bar was open at this hour, but you’ll take what you can get. 

after shutting off your computer, you pocket your room keys in your sweats and step out. 

the moon casts a faint glow on your path, creating ambiguous, eerie shadows. the summer air is warm on your skin, but shivers run down your spine when you hear a twig snap from your side. gradually, you pick up your pace and clutch your keys tighter, feeling the cool metal dig into your palm. 

you continue walking for a minute until the crickets suddenly go silent. 

your shoes skid to a halt. paranoia slowly creeps up on you as you scan your surroundings, looking between the trees and in the dark corners of the street, like someone’s watching you. 

hesitantly, you take a step forward, and another, and another, still keeping your eyes trained anywhere except the pavement in front of you. your heartbeat echoes in your chest the more your imagination runs wild—a ghost? a serial killer? one of those creepy guys from the fifth floor you and kenma secretly hate? no, you can handle the last two, but not a ghost. you’re starting to regret watching incantation with kenma the night before your flight. 

you’re too lost in thought to notice the person a few feet before you, who is also completely unaware of your incoming presence. 

it only takes a couple of steps until you collide, causing a frightened scream to slip past your lips and his phone to slip from his grasp. 

“jesus, (—). are you okay?”

“suna,” you breathe out before your initial shock is overcome by frustration, “make a sound, will you?! god.” 

suna raises an eyebrow, lips twitching to hide his amusement at your spooked state. you notice, but it doesn’t seem to annoy you. he bends down to pick up his phone, his movements slow and deliberate, before he slips his hands into his pockets. curiosity laces his tone when he asks, “what are you doing out at this hour?”

you ignore the way your heart skips a beat under his gaze. “i was going to grab a snack,” you tell him, blinking more times than necessary.

“from the bar?” suna hums, humor mixed with concern.

“yes,” you assert, “from the bar.” a smile threatens to spread upon suna's lips but he holds back. why are you lying about something as small as this? 

ah, he then remembers kiyoomi mentioning that you’d be caught up in meetings at work for almost the entire day, explaining why you two didn't have to do anything regarding wedding preparations. if he knew you, he’d recall how much of a workaholic you were years ago; how easily you’d get swept up in your work trying to make it as perfect as possible, only filling your system with tea or coffee and all other sorts of caffeine. but it’s hard not to know you—not to forget—when sneaking in both of your lunches inside the study hall practically became a part of his college routine. or how he’d add two packs of dark chocolate to his basket, along with his fruit jelly sticks, when finals were approaching. or how he started filling his training bottle with the blue gatorade you liked instead of his usual purple one so that when you'd ask for a drink, he could hear you gush about how similar your tastes are. and if he knew you, he’d remember how you held your pride over even the tiniest of things, such as admitting whether you’ve had dinner or not. he remembers how adorable or frustrating your stubborn pride could get. 

all these thoughts rush into him in a second like they were his own instincts, a second skin. 

so without another thought, he suggests, “do you wanna head out instead? i heard there’s this night cafe just fifteen minutes away.”

he's hoping you’d say yes—he can admit that to himself. however, what he can’t acknowledge is that, somewhere deep down, you’re still dear to him in more ways than one. 

he sees an ounce of hesitation in your eyes, and he thinks he might have pushed a little too much. maybe you still hated him despite agreeing to keep things civil between you. 

“sure,” you tell him, a softness lingering in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher, “lead the way.” 

suna couldn't control the pleased smile that formed on his lips. he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to follow him before he pulls out his phone from his pocket. perhaps it's a shame that he doesn't notice the light blush that dusts on your cheeks as you trail behind him. 

in the cafe, you sit across from suna, doing your best to appear casual. but even as he eases you into another conversation, you push back the familiar feeling you recognize a few years back. 

prev — masterlist — next

notes kind of a filler chapter (?) bc i’m torn between making this slowburn or nawt lolz but i wanted to give an insight into how their relationship was before! (the lyrics of summer, night is sooo fitting for this chap) also.. sakuatsu & sunayn parallelism kinda ??? 🫣

tags @ilyless @strxwberri-s @bbybibi @milesmoralesluvs @hanniemylovelyquokka @nbcvs @crispchocolates @cnnmairoll @trash-master-3000 @tojirin @ryuverse @megumiif @chemiru @theycallmenanamisgirl @neoclb @krissiekris @nyxlai @tsukiran @frvppe @le000xxgrd @kr1nqu @kunihaver @toges-cough-syrup @myromanempiree @baskin-robinhoods @jeongintwt @itsdragonius @moucheslove @ichcocat @miiyas @samuel1004 @reignsaway @sonicsolos @httpshoyo @walllflowerrrsss @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @wolffmaiden @diorzs @zumicho @riabriyn @hqtoge @unhinged-atrocities @t8tiana @deluluforcarlos55 @kissingkzuha @mfcherry @tamimemo @geniejunn @peehall @h3xi2g0n3 @gsyche @meguemii @savemebrazilhinata

[musingsofahufflepuff]

coffee shop headcanons

mattheo, enzo, theo, blaise, & draco; fluff

a/n: to all my draco people, sorry for the draco slander. also, first time writing about blaise and draco, so they might be ooc, don’t yell at me. this is shamelessly more starbucks focused bc i work there. another lil guy to make up for how long the theo soulmate au is taking ♡

Mattheo

♡ this man is a cold brew guy, whatever delivers the most caffeine the fastest. inject it into his veins if you must.

♡ definitely adds espresso shots to all his drinks, even the cold brew.

♡ energy drink in one hand, coffee in the other.

♡ i’m biased, but i think he’d vibe with a lavender chai when he’s not getting his fix. (if you catch him ordering a dirty chai, mind your business)

Enzo

♡ he’s a “barista’s choice” kinda guy.

♡ he’ll walk up to the cashier and with that charming little smile of his go, “i’ll have whatever your favorite is.”

♡ he frequently gets little heart doodles and stickers added to his cups bc the employees love him.

♡ this boy also loves a seasonal drink and will get his friends to get one with him.

Theo

♡ espresso lover, 100%

♡ however, if the beans are shit, don’t bother.

♡ latte art lover, you can make a little cat drawing on his coffee?? do it, do it rn.

♡ secretly loves a pumpkin spice latte with enzo.

Blaise

♡ iced coffee all the way, no sweeteners bc he likes the taste.

♡ will also drink black brewed coffee, dark roast.

♡ can and has been suckered into getting a seasonal drink with enzo

♡ ofc he doesn’t actually like them, why would you ask him that???

Draco

♡ fucking iced matcha lattes because they’re a bitch to make.

♡ or he’s getting the equivalent of a frappuccino/frozen coffee. (the guys tease him relentlessly for this)

♡ does not like the taste of coffee, so he has to add a ton of milk and sugar to it.

♡ he just prefers tea.

[ugh-yoongi]

For your Yoongi drabbles - reader has a crush and talks about “him” constantly, but Yoongi doesn’t know it’s him until someone else spills readers secret.

this was so cute, thank you for requesting! sorry for the giant meme, but it is literally the exact vibe of this so i had to use it.

loose lips

pairing: yoongi x f. reader genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication (??), fluff warnings: swearing, drinking, namjoon namjooning, unedited rating: e for everyone! there's nothing bad in here wordcount: 1k

it's bee's birthday! send me yoongi requests and/or fic recs!

Min Yoongi is a lot of things.

He’s meticulous and prone to overwork and also lazy and uninspired. He’s chronically over-caffeinated and always half-asleep. He’s the first to blow off plans and the first to pout when he no longer gets invited. He’s brusque and a bit of a bastard but also pleased to be fussed over and taken care of. The kind of person who needs to be wrangled into physical affection, because he just can’t seem to verbalize his desire for it.

Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but he is not, under any circumstances, prone to gossip.

Jung Hoseok, on the other hand, has no such hangups.

Which presents Yoongi with an interesting dilemma. He has to piss, but he has to pass the kitchen to get to the bathroom. And Yoongi is a lot of things and not one of them is prone to gossiping or eavesdropping, but it’s hard to push aside the intrigue of you and Hoseok speaking in hushed whispers in his own kitchen, heads pressed together like conjoined twins.

It looks like a whole lot of conspiring is going on. He refuses to pout.

“You seriously haven’t told him yet?” Hoseok says, and Yoongi can just make it out, but he’s known Hoseok long enough to register the exasperation in his voice. God knows he’s been on the receiving end of it more often than not.

You groan. Probably shoot Hoseok an exasperated look of your own that Yoongi isn’t privy to. “It’s not that easy.”

“It absolutely is that easy. How hard is it to say—”

“Can you shut up?” you whisper-shriek. “You are so annoying—”

“—Hey, I have feelings for you. Would you wanna grab coffee?”

Yoongi is pouting before he even realizes his face has contorted. Sure, he can be jealous. Someone will always be a better musician, have more money, live in a nicer apartment and drive a nicer car and wear nicer clothes. Now, though… someone out there can have you, and that thought tastes sour in his mouth.

It’d been Jimin’s idea to come to Itaewon.

At least they’re at the bar with the good whisky, because Yoongi will max out his credit cards to escape the hell in which he’s found himself. It’d been bad enough with Hoseok, but now he has to deal with it from Taehyung and Jimin, too.

Do you think she’ll ever tell him? This is getting painful.

I don’t know. Hey, are you going to eat the rest of your fries?

Are you fucking serious? Of course I am, I bought them for me—

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid, because everyone seems to be in on a secret he isn’t, but he looks across the bar and finds it hard to care. There you are, laughing wildly as Hoseok twirls you around on the dancefloor. All the lights in this place combined can’t outshine you—not on your worst day, but especially not when you’re like this.

So. Yoongi’s pouting again, plush bottom lip jutting out far enough to brush against his glass of whisky. He’d finally given up and splurged on something top shelf. Figured it’d get him to where he needs to go faster than anything else, because Yoongi is a lot of things and a dancer isn’t one of them, so he’s doomed to spend the night at this table, sandwiched between Taehyung and Jimin.

Listening to them drone on and on about the guy you’re interested in.

He wonders what he’s like. How the two of you met. He pointedly does not think about whether or not this guy’s a dancer, a musician, if he can always afford top-shelf whisky. He wonders if you’re gonna make Yoongi meet him. If he’s gonna have to play nice and pretend to think this guy is cool and interesting. He can pretend, he thinks.

If it’s important to you, Yoongi can do anything.

Namjoon will know what to do, because Namjoon never actually knows what to do about anything and still somehow always arrives at the correct answer.

“Why am I here, hyung?”

Yoongi clears his throat. Spears another piece of beef and puts it on Namjoon’s plate like a peace offering. Orders another round of beers even though he hasn’t touched his first. “Uh,” comes his eloquent response. “Well—”

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon mutters, face-planting onto the table. “This is worse than I thought.”

Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but if he’s worse than Namjoon thought, he’s in deep shit.

“Um—”

Namjoon picks his head up. Studies Yoongi for a minute, clearly looking for something, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “It’s you, hyung. She’s hung up on you. And I shouldn’t even be telling you this, because we all just assumed both of you would eventually remove your heads from your asses and get it together, but fuck, this is painful. I can’t do this anymore, you know? I’m not your feelings friend. Jimin is your feelings friend, but he said you just sulked the entire night at the bar—”

“I didn’t sulk,” Yoongi argues, but the words are spoken around a pout.

All he receives in return is A Look. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

Yoongi is a lot of things.

Today, he’s a coward, which is new.

He’s not usually a coward, it’s just… he knows how to be jealous and how to sulk and pout and not get what he wants. Those things are easy. But he has no idea how to deal with the bomb Namjoon had dropped on him. He’s not even sure it’s the truth. What if Namjoon was just fucking with him to get him to stop sulking? That’s absolutely something Namjoon would do because he’s done it before.

He sighs. Stops to catch his breath because you live on the sixth floor in a building with no working elevator and he doesn’t work out, so he’s really going to be pissed if Namjoon lied.

“Yoongi? What’re you doing here?”

His heart really does stop this time, because there you are, fresh-faced and smiling and a little confused, and Yoongi knows his face is splotchy and red and that his hairline is sweaty. “Yeah, hi,” he says, and it comes out like an immensely displeased grunt. Doesn’t sound at all like he’s happy to see you, and—oh. Yeah. He can understand now why you might’ve been hesitant to say something.

“Sorry, I just—these steps, you know?”

“Yeah, they said the elevator’s finally getting fixed next week.”

“Thank fuck.”

Your brows knit together. “You planning on coming by more often?”

Yoongi is a lot of things, but right now he’s impatient. So he closes the distance between you in record time and says, “Yeah. Listen, Namjoon told me this guy you and Hobi have been talking about is actually me—”

“That duplicitous snake—”

“—and I’ve kind of been losing my mind over it, because I feel the same way, so if it’s true I’d really like to kiss you, but I’m not entirely sure Namjoon wasn’t just fucking with me—”

“Oh, like that time he told you he’d seen your rejection letter from SNU just so you’d stop stressing over whether or not you got in and that you’d be even more excited once you did, in fact, get in?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Namjoon is a bastard. You should kiss me, though.”

Min Yoongi is a lot of things.

As he presses his lips to yours—soft, soft, soft—more than anything else, he’s happy.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

TF 141 and their Morning Drink Preferences

TF 141 Dump

TF 141 Headcanons

Ghost:

Obvious tea drinker

Or is it that obvious?

Painfully British of the whole lot of them

Will only drink black teas, absolutely despises herbal, green or rooibos teas

Of the black teas avoids anything floral because he thinks it’s a bit too frilly for his palette

Never adds sugar to teas, says it ruins the flavor

Will add milk to help cool a tea, but only just slightly

Claims drinking a freshly made cup of tea on a hot summer day helps cool him down

How this works is beyond me, but he claims it anyways

Thinks adding cream is a vile concept and anyone who does so should be interrogated by the CIA

Soap

He’ll drink a cup of tea with Ghost, but he’s really more of a coffee person

Prefers medium roast with a heavy serving of cream

He can’t stand adding milk, but will use it if there’s nothing else

Adds sugar when he gets a chance

Despises sweeteners and will make little digs at anyone who does use sweetener, usually citing health reasons

Don’t try arguing that adding two spoons of sugar is just as bad, he won’t hear it

As for tea he prefers rooibos, which drives Ghost up the wall

Is down for anything, really

Gaz

Doesn’t like hot beverages

Prefers either a cool glass of water or juice

Does not understand caffeine addiction whatsoever

Claims the drinks are healthier and more refreshing

People just think he’s incredibly dehydrated in the morning

Will take orange juice from concentrate without batting an eye, but really enjoys more exotic juices if he can get his hands on them

When stationed in foreign countries he’ll try juices made from native fruits

Really likes cactus and mango juice, but is not opposed to papaya

Dislikes southern lemonade with a passion, claims it’s far too sweet

Is surprisingly peppy in the morning despite only drinking juice

Roach

Whatever’s there will work

However, he tends to prefer teas

He’s especially fond of green teas

He goes on about how healthy they are for the mind and body

Also will go on about how easy they are to transport and keeps a small sachet of matcha powder (the cheap stuff) on him to prove his point

He thinks Ghost is a snob and should just get over himself

Has tried to sway the others, but they all tell him matcha tastes like grass

He thinks they’re all idiots

Price

Coffee only

Does not fuss over his coffee whatsoever

Whatever’s in the canteen will do

His one gripe is adding cream or sugar

He will only take his coffee black

Some have tried to win him over with coffees made with cream/milk/sugar, and he’ll be polite enough to drink them and thank them, but he really doesn’t like it too much

He will tell them to not fuss too much if they get him another coffee so they don’t do it again

Cannot stand people whining about how they take their coffee and how the military doesn’t give out the good stuff

He just considers them weak whiners

This includes Ghost when he complains about not having enough black tea in the canteen

Price glad to say it to his face

He could not care less about age or temperature

He’ll pull a day-old cup straight out of the fridge and down it like there’s no tomorrow

Art from This Post

[redrose10]

44 with either yoongi or jungkook!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Since I haven’t gotten any other Jungkook requests I wanted to use him but this prompt is just so Yoongi coded I had to do it.

#44 I still remember the way you taste

Warnings: Swearing, a little suggestive but nothing extreme, some self doubt, maybe a little power play but in a playful way

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you graduated high school you had decided to take a year off before going to college. Something about finding yourself and deciding what you wanted to do with your life. Well one year turned into two turned into five and now here you were ten years after graduating high school sitting in a college freshman literature class.

After having what you’re calling a very small little breakdown (your friends would call it a full blown complete meltdown after one too many margaritas) about not having accomplished anything with your life you decided it was time to get back into it and go to college.

You weren’t 100% sure what you wanted your major to be so right now you were taking mostly just filler courses to fulfill your credit requirements.

Looking around the room made you feel so old. Everyone there was fresh out of high school, so wide eyed and full of hope as they sipped on their sugary coffees and panic attack inducing energy drinks. You stuck to a nice simple green tea with just enough caffeine to wake you up a little, but not make you feel like you were having a constant heart attack. One of the many joys of getting older.

Bored you scribbled away in your notebook when you heard the door close behind you.

“Alright class, Welcome to Literature 101. I’ll be your professor this semester. My name is Min Yoongi. You can call me Professor or Professor Min.”

The oh so familiar sight made you choke on your tea. You coughed and coughed and sputtered as the entire class including your professor stared at you. Once you composed yourself you apologized feeling like your entire body was on fire from embarrassment.

Yoongi looked in your direction for a moment before going back to emptying his briefcase.

Okay so maybe he doesn’t remember you. You felt both a sense of relief, but also a little hurt. He was all you had thought about for years. High school sweethearts who were madly in love until one day they weren’t. Or at least he wasn’t. Yoongi had broken up with you half way through his second year of college. Something about feeling like you weren’t taking life seriously enough and being worried you’d take him down too.

At the time you were incredibly hurt, but looking back now you couldn’t blame him. For years you worked hard to get over him. Dating other guys. Trying to build your social circle. Nothing really helped the hurt though.

It did help a little when you found out that he’d gotten engaged. The thought that he was completely off the market and therefore having no chance of reconciling helped you to move on too. You never did bother to follow up on how to wedding went though. You didn’t want to pry that much into his life. You just hoped he was happy.

Seeing him here was stirring up a lot of feelings and you were worried how you were going to get through this semester. You already weren’t excited about literature to begin with. Yoongi always had a way with words so you weren’t surprised he was teaching this. You on the other hand often struggled to put together coherent sentences. This was going to be rough.

Although the next several weeks of the semester went by easier than you’d thought. You put in a lot of effort to put out good work. Yoongi barely acknowledged you and the few times he did speak to you he treated you like any other student.

You stared down at the paper you had spent days writing. You worked really hard on it, but apparently Yoongi thought otherwise thanks to the big fat red note at the bottom, “Meet me in my office after class. We need to discuss this.” You thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

“Alright class, I can tell your brains are pretty mush today so how about we end class early. See you all next week.”, Yoongi chuckled receiving many cheers and thank gods from the class.

Great. Just great. You thought you had another whole hour to prepare. Slowly as if to stall you packed up your belongings and made your way over to his office.

Once there you knocked before poking your head in the room. He motioned for you to take a seat on the couch. He took his glasses off and sat them on his desk before closing the door and joining you on the couch as well. His cologne intoxicating and comforting all at the same time.

“How have you been Y/N? I’ve been wanting to catch up. It’s just been so busy.”, he spoke.

So he did remember you after all. “Good, how are you?”, you asked.

“Good as well.”, he smiled.

Wanting to get out of there before you did something you’d regret you decided to expedite the conversation, “Look about the paper, I tried really hard. I don’t know what happened…”

Yoongi put his hand up to stop you, “Your paper was fine. Sure there were a few changes to be made but nothing major.”

“Oh okay well what is this meeting about then?”, you questioned.

He chuckled to himself, “I guess I just wanted an excuse to have some alone time with you. Do you know how hard it is to see you sitting in my class over and over and not being able to do anything about it?”

You looked at him stunned, “I…I didn’t think you even remembered who I was.”

“Remember who you were? Fuck Y/N, I still remember the way you taste.”, he said before locking his lips onto yours.

It felt incredible to feel his touch again. His soft lips. His strong hands leaving goosebumps as they made their way along your waist. Your whole body tingled with want and desire until you remembered one little detail. Because you are many things some good, some bad, but homewrecker was not one of them.

His lips were still feverishly searching for yours as you pulled away, “What about your wife?”

His face turned to confusion, “Wife? What wife?”

I ran into Jimin several years ago, “He said you were engaged.”

He sighed and nodded in understanding, “I called it off. I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I had realized I was still in love with someone else the whole time anyways.”, he whispered before leaving over you and crashing his lips back onto yours which you now happily received.

There was a knock at the door that stopped you both followed by a woman’s voice, “Mr.Min I have some papers for you to sign.”

“I’ll grab them later Mrs. Kim. I’m with a student right now.”, he replied. His voice faltering towards the end as you undid his belt while before running your hand up his thigh.

After he was sure she’d left he turned his attention back to you, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Mmhm we’ll see about that Yoongi.”, you teased.

He smirked, “Yeah we’ll see. And that’s professor to you.”

[dullgecko]

I was rewatching Fantasy high, and realized that Gorgug has asked for hot chocolate everytime Gilear is sent out for Coffee so now here’s the bad kids coffee order

Kristen: Cortado (we know this already 😔)

Fabian: The most complicated order every single godamn time and it’s always different each time. The baristas have started writing his name wrong on purpose they hate him.

“A venti nonfat, no whip, 9 shot, 1 pump mocha drink with 4 shakes of cinnamon, and a caramel drizzle at the bottom. I also want it hot, like as hot at you can get it.”

Riz: Classic black coffee with some sugar and milk, 1) detective vibes, 2) keeps him up. Also Riz relies on coffee so much it is a borderline addiction.

Fig: Something really sweet, like a “Cinnamon Caramel Cream Cold Brew” or smth, Fig doesn’t really drink coffee but she knows exactly what she wants.

Gorgug: Gorgug thinks all coffee is bitter it makes his mouth feel weird and doesn’t like the smell. Hot chocolate is the only thing he’ll order.

Adaine: Also not a coffee drinker, more tea drinker. When she does drink coffee it’s something really light, like a cafetiere.

(I’m a barista Fabian’s order is something that’s actually something I’ve had to make)

Kristen orders Cortados mostly for the in-joke at this point, but she also strikes me as someone who would enjoy a mocha or even those seasonal flavoured coffees when the mood strikes.

Fabian is a menace, his coffee orders are a nightmare, but somehow they always taste amazing. If he's pressed for time or not in a mood to fuck with the barristas he just gets something like an oat-milk latte with caramel syrup. Its especially fun to do when he comes up to the counter, the barista recognises him and a look of dread passes over their face, and then they're just confused by the super simple order. Will usually order the same drink as he's getting for Riz if they're out together, does not take the goblins size into account and adjust the size of the order to suit. It's 2 of exactly the same drink, large or extra large.

Riz's simple coffee orders are mostly because black coffee is usually the cheapest thing on the menu. He'll usually order for himself because most of his friends are on a crusade to stop him exploding his own heart with caffeine overconsumption (Adaine will get him tea, kristen will get him small size only half-strength coffees, Fig will get him a drink that isnt even coffee or caffinated like a milkshake and Gorgug will get him decaf). Fabian is the only one who's allowed to purchase him coffee, but the half-elf spoils the fuck out of him by getting him the extra-large fancy flavoured coffees that have more sugar in them than you should consume in a week and enough caffeine that Riz is vibrating and seeing into the next dimension afterwards. The coffee's Fabian buys him are also disgustingly expensive and cost the same as about 12 of Riz's usual order combined.

Fig gets herself iced coffees with flavoured syrups in them. They're almost more milkshake than anything else, with a little bit of coffee for the caffeine kick. If she has a hot coffee it usually has about five teaspoons of sugar in it with milk to mask the bitterness.

Gorgug likes hot chocolates and vanilla chai lattes. He tries not to have much caffeine because it raises his heart rate too much and makes him feel like he'll go into a rage if not careful.

Adaine love her teas but will spring for a dirty chai latte with vanilla if she's really tired. Sometimes she'll join Fig in having an iced-coffee with extra ice-cream if the weather is really hot.

[cupidstan]

my dbh boys helping you sleep

tags: insomnia, wholesomeness, cuddling, fluff

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗢𝗥:

“why aren’t you sleeping yet???”

is kinda confused as to why you’re not sleeping bc the only sleeping habits he’s used to is hank’s- who sleeps easily

after you explain a little to him he quickly connects the dots and nods a little (like that adorable little nod when he’s sat in the police station with hank omg he’s so adorable fufbdkdubffoi)

“okay… i’m gonna find some solutions and we’ll work through it.” he’s so practical-

silently searches into any sleeping pills you might potentially need but he won’t tell you that until he has all the evidence that you need medication

will go through a bedtime ritual with you even though he doesn’t need it bc he cares

isn’t huge on cuddling at first because he’s incredibly new to it but he finds that it helps soothe you back to sleep when you wake up so he cuddles you all the time

likes rubbing your back as you cuddle into him (it’s his favourite)

he’s awful at making drinks tbh but he does his best to make you a hot chocolate and other soothing beverages <3

limits your caffeine intake too

-

𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡

“huh? wha? oh. hey, sugar.”

literally tugs you under his arm and then falls back asleep

he fucking sucks at staying awake bc he’s getting old. he needs his beauty sleep 😭

however- like connor he will do a bedtime routine with you. doesn’t let you drink alcohol or caffeine, even limits your screen time just in case

will let you cuddle with sumo on the bed even though sumo takes up a lot of space

however, sumo will get up in the middle of the night to get some water and then flop down on his own comfy bed so you have to roll over and cuddle hank instead

makes you hot drinks and they taste amazing <3

will take you to the doctors to get sleeping pills if it’s extreme insomnia

but if it’s more mild and a broken sleep pattern he will cuddle you back to sleep every time you wake up

-

𝗚𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗

he’s also an insomniac so he stays up with you

the two of you passed out on the couch together most nights <3

treats you to coffee in the morning when you’re both exhausted but still have to go to work

likes spooning but also likes chest to chest, both help him fall asleep a bit quicker

likes talking about his day with you when you’re both cuddled up together and watching some shitty film that mainly plays in the background

can’t sleep when you’re separated, so you practically live at his apartment

if you both work at dpd then he’ll put coffees on your desk in passing and shakes you awake if you pass out (loves it when you do the same for him)

adores days off where you both order food and lazy around together trying to catch up on sleep

overall he’s just as sleep deprived as you but you’re helping each other <3

-

𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗢𝗡

i hc he was a malewife domestic care robot (like daniel) before he became a deviant so he knows a lot about helping people fall asleep

will literally read you bedtime stories he’s so adorable 😭

best cuddler on the list, cuddles you straight to sleep he’s a natural

will watch over you bc androids don’t need sleep, even if you weren’t an insomniac he’d still watch over you <3

“do you want a hot bath and a nice drink to unwind?”

will get you aromatherapy sprays that you spray on your pillow to try and help <3

will also research medications like connor and suggest them to you (also suggests going to the doctor if you’re really struggling)

wakes you up with praises and a well earned coffee in the morning after you slept through most of the night bfnfksjsngkic he’s so cute 😭

[bots-and-cons]

Tiny ficlet/or hc’s/ or whatever your heart feels

Ratchet befriends a local coffee shop owner (afab) when the owner swung through the hospital June works at to give the night shift nurses free caffeine on the house has a treat. June was letting Ratchet shadow her in holoform on her shift after Ratchet asked to learn more medical info for humans in case the teams human partners ever need med attention. Maybe light banter/ how relationship develops either romantically or just has friends / Mr- caffeine-is-bad-for-you-Ratchet vs up-all-night-barista-jugging-coffee-by-the-gallon

Uuu, I like this idea. I felt like HCs was the best fit for this. I felt like a scenario would get way too long for me, and it would also take forever to write, so HCs it is. Also I don’t drink any kind of coffee, so forgive my ignorance on that front. I tagged this as humanformers, since it’s holoform stuff

•He’s never been one for coffee, but he decided to try it out one late evening

•Your coffee shop is open really late, and after he tasted the coffee in the hospital break room, he wasn’t very optimistic that it was going to be any good either

•There were a lot of options and he had a hard time deciding, so he asked you what you would recommend

•You asked him what he liked and he confessed he hadn’t really drank much coffee before

•There aren’t really any other customers around, and you think he’s kinda cute, so you offer to let him sample a couple of things, and if he doesn’t like them, you can just drink them yourself

•You make him a latte and an americano and let him taste some of both

•He decides he likes the americano more and orders a cup to go

•You chat with him while making the drink, and he finds that you’re very nice to talk to

•Ratchet talks with you about some stuff, and before he knows it, his break is over, and he’s already late with getting back to June

•He thinks his coffee runs might turn into a habit whenever he’s at the hospital

•You hope to see him again soon, and he does come by every now and then

•You hadn’t been able to do it for a while, but you decide to take coffee to the nurses that you’re friendly with, and you’re hoping to see Ratchet too

•You close up shop and carry as much coffee to the closest nurse’s station as you can

•The nurses are all very happy to see you and a lot of them joke about how much better your coffee is compared to what they have in the break room

•Ratchet also happens to be there that night, and he’s happy to see you, which he doesn’t really make known, he just greets you kindly and the two of you start talking while he sips his coffee

•Ratchet still doesn’t exactly like coffee, but he noticed it helps keep him awake, and it’s a good excuse to come see you

•He starts to come by the coffee shop more and more, and eventually you ask him out by writing it on the cup

•Ratchet almost doesn’t notice the little text on the cup, and he throws it away, but as it’s going into the trash, he notices you wrote something on it, and he gets it out of the trash can to check

•He’s glad he did, because you wrote your phone number and a “wanna go out?” on it

•You notice him digging the cup out of the trash can, and chuckle to yourself

•Ratchet sends you a message like ten minutes later

•”Yes, I would like to go out with you” it says

•You’re all smiles for the rest of the day and to be honest, he can feel himself smiling a lot too, especially after you ask him “Where would you like to go?”

•You set up a date and as it draws nearer, Ratchet finds himself getting increasingly nervous

•He doesn’t really know how he ended up in this situation, but now he’s going out with a human, and he’s very happy with you

[faerieroyal]

imagine luke with a barista! gf . . . the two of you likely would have met in the shop where you work, one morning when he’s rushing to get to arena for practice but needs his caffeine fix to keep him from falling asleep on his skates. from the moment he sees you behind the counter, he’s entranced by your smile and your sweet voice when you ask for his order, so much so that he almost doesn’t remember what he came into the shop wanting to get. after you’ve made his coffee and given it to him, he could swear that it’s the best drink he’s ever had in his life, if only because it was made by the angel in front of him. he makes sure to compliment you on the drink, too, and does a little internal happy dance when you blush slightly and thank him. he also promises to be back at the coffee shop the next day — mainly to see you again, though he leaves that part out — and he definitely does come back, day after day whenever he can, and with every day and every coffee you make him the two of you get to know each other better and make more of a connection, until finally luke works up the nerve to ask you out. the question and confession of his feelings comes out stuttered and a bit awkward, with none of the confidence he showcases on the ice, but he barely suppresses a whoop of excitement when you still smile and say yes — and the rest is sort of history from there.

as much as you love your job, you love luke even more and want to be there to support him, so you make an effort to go to all the games you can, always making sure to wear luke’s jersey number and cheer as loud as you possibly can. you also bring coffee to the team and some of the staff during home games or send it along with for morning practices, which always makes the proudest smile break out on luke’s face when everyone comments on how good it is. and if the shop you work at happens to offer baked goods as well, you’re definitely in favor of giving luke, jack, and the whole team discounts on the cookies and brownies in your display case whenever they come into the shop, and you’ll also typically send luke into the locker room with a box or two of sweets that are just a day old, the stuff the shop would have thrown out anyway that’s still perfectly good to eat.

once you and luke start spending more and more time at each other’s apartments, you are also definitely put in charge of making all the coffee. the machine in luke and jack’s place isn’t at all the same kind as the ones you work with, so whatever coffee you make never tastes the same as what you make for a living, but luke still insists that every cup of coffee you’ve ever made him tastes like liquid gold. those are some of your favorite moments with him, standing in his kitchen in the early morning trying to teach him to make foam art or exactly the proper amount of milk for a latte, watching him smiling at you in the golden morning light through the steam rising from your cups, and giving him kisses that, no matter how bitter the coffee might make them taste, are always the sweetest things to ever hit your lips.

just imagine luke, who is so incredibly grateful to whatever higher powers that might be that he went into your coffee shop that morning, because it wound up bringing an absolute angel into his life — one who not only makes the greatest coffee he’s ever had, but who has the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen and the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard, and who loves him with a gentle intensity that sometimes takes his breath away. and he loves you, too, more than he ever imagined loving anyone.

. . . ✧ . . .

nhl taglist: @lovings4turn ! ( happy birthday, bumblebee, hope you like your present ! <3 )

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

HELLO, first time asker here! My request is:

M6 with an MC that doesn’t drink?

The Arcana HCs: M6 with an MC that doesn't drink

~ love this one! considering how frequently alcohol appears in the story lines and how common it is to stay sober (for many, very good reasons), this is an interesting setup to think about. I hope you enjoy, anon! - brainrot ~

Julian

Feels terrible when the second time you meet is him inviting you into a tavern for a drink. Apologizes profusely, and is struck by the oddness of asking Barth the barkeep for two waters instead

Noticing the amount of times he would be reaching for a drink and then not doing it because it feels awkward around you makes him realize just how much he likes to drink as a coping mechanism

Uses that as another reason why he isn't good enough for you

Which gives you the chance to talk to him about it later - why you don't drink, what your comfort level is around people who are drinking, etc

All in all it becomes a kind of accountability for him, even if you never intend for it to be

Because being around you leads to him drinking less often and less at a time, he's tempted to just put you in charge of whether or not he drinks and how much (he doesn't, of course, because his good or bad decisions are not your responsibility)

It ends up becoming a fun social activity for him instead of a go-to relaxing method

Just don't come after his coffee addiction. He can live without alcohol, he cannot live without caffeine

Asra

They enjoy drinking but it's not the most regular thing - they're more likely to do it either 1) as a social thing, or 2) because it's a drink they've never seen before and the curiosity is killing them

He's also canonically a lightweight - two drinks is all it takes for him to need help getting home, and he doesn't like being vulnerable

They respect your boundaries and comfort above everything else, so how they proceed is up to your preferences:

If you're comfortable being around alcohol, he'll drink some evenings after making sure you have an equally tasty/delightful non-alcoholic beverage to enjoy

If you're not, they'll indulge when they're visiting Nadia and Julian at the Palace and you can't make it (you're always invited though)

Or when he's on a trip without you and it glows in the dark and Faust really, really wants a taste

It's unlikely that they'll consider abstaining from alcohol unless you ask them to. As respectful as they are, they avoid limiting others (especially you) and expect others not to put limits on them in turn

Uses it as a challenge to create the best mocktail

Nadia

... Oh?

She's not judging, she's just surprised. She can't remember a dinner where there hasn't been alcohol served, and every noble she knows partakes frequently (I mean, just look at Valerius)

Now she's feeling a little embarrassed because the only other drink she can think of to offer is tea (or plain water) and that's not respectable at all

Becomes much more conscientious about having decent non-alcoholic options available at Palace functions

Speaking of, what would be most comfortable for you? Does it bother you at all if she drinks while she's spending one-on-one time with you? How about at dinners?

Now she's realizing that she can't remember the last time she went a day without drinking, and that doesn't strike her as a good thing

She decides to try cutting back and is surprised at how it goes for her. It turns out that a lot of the habits she formed were simply because that's how it had always been done around her

She approaches drinking as a conscious decision now and gives all the credit to you

Muriel

Yeah, he doesn't drink either

He also knows from the few times Asra talked him into it that he only gets moodier and less sociable when he does, and neither of those are things he wants to be around you

Honestly he's relieved because it makes everything easier

Including attending parties

He's a lot more likely to say yes and try going to one if you're going to be there and he can count on you to stay sober with him in case everyone else decides to go ahead and get wasted

What he's not prepared for is how, by the third get together, all of your friends take that as an invitation to make the two of you the equivalent of the designated drivers. He is not impressed

Now you have to make new rules about how neither of you is responsible for what your friends get up to (the good news is that Muriel is very good at saying no to people)

Once, Asra jokingly suggested that Julian stay out at the hut with the two of you for a few weeks to force him to go sober for a bit

The look of horror on Muriel's face still makes them laugh

Portia

So, her favorite drink is beer ...

She's the least surprised to find out that you don't drink. She's traveled all around the world and catered to all kinds of tourists and guests

If anything, she loves that about you. She's seen first-hand the kinds of messes that drunk palace guests are capable of making and knowing that you'll never do that is delightful to her

She personally has a robust but healthy relationship with drinking

Does she partake every day? No. Several times a week? Of course! It's part and parcel of a good time with a good group of friends!

She totally understands and respects where you're coming from, but she's pretty comfortable where she's at, so she's not going to adjust many of her own habits unless you ask her to

She will ask you all about your own decision though, simply because she wants to know you

What led you to give it up? Did you ever drink much in the first place? Is there some kind of mystical magic reason involved?

So very invested in respecting and protecting your preferences

Lucio

Well at first, he couldn't decide if you were a total stick in the mud or just ignorant about what you were missing out on

He's just spent the last three years as a ghostly goatman, unable to partake in any of the good things in life, and the first person he's able to make contact with doesn't drink? Why???

He brings it up constantly at first because 1) it doesn't make sense to him, and 2) he keeps assuming that it means you're judging him for his past drinking habits

You'll eventually have to hash it out with him along with all of your other personality differences, explaining why you make that decision and what your comfort levels are around it

Once he knows that you're not going to force him to quit, he decides to try doing it anyways

He may as well try a few weeks of going sober, seeing as he's trying to improve and you're on the road and don't have the biggest budget and there aren't that many parties to attend

So impressed by his own ability to change and make a decision like that that he does it more often. He still parties sometimes, though

[silversword7000]

☕️Bridge Crew Coffee Headcanons☕️

Author’s Note: I indicated TOS and AOS for Kirk because each version gives me wildly different vibes about coffee but the rest of them can be read as either TOS or AOS🥰

Kirk:

TOS Kirk would have coffee occasionally and only put a splash of cream in it.

He would absolutely have a special cup for coffee so it is more of a treat though!

AOS Kirk would put 20000000 sugars and creamers in his coffee and also he should NOT be allowed to have coffee ever because he will have 50 cups in a day if no one (Bones) stops him.

He would absolutely love coffee though and like TOS Kirk he would have a special cup but AOS Kirk would have a blinged out reusable to go cup✨

Spock:

Spock would NOT drink coffee. He hates the bitter taste of it and even if it was doctored up, he still wouldn’t like it.

Caffeine would not agree with his Vulcan half…

McCoy:

He has a caffeine addiction.

With all the bullcrap he has to deal with on a daily basis I do not blame him.

He also doesn’t have time to sleep often so…yeah.

He drinks his coffee black. The bitterness reminds him of how he feels when people (Jim) are constantly getting themselves hurt in idiotic ways.

The only time he ever drinks it any other way is when Uhura makes him latte art. Even though he prefers it black, he enjoys seeing how excited she gets about doing it.

If anyone tries interacting with him before he has his coffee, he will kill them. All of the other medical officers stay far away from him until he has his first cup.

Scotty:

You already know my man is not bothering with coffee unless it has alcohol in it.

Scotty is able to wake himself up pretty quickly. He just gets up and he’s ready to go! So, he’s never had the need to drink any coffee.

Frankly, he just doesn’t enjoy the taste of it.

Uhura:

Uhura would love to start her day by having a nice cup of coffee! It is part of her morning ritual. ☀️

She has a few mugs that she swaps out to have some variety, but her favorite is her pink Hello Kitty mug that her mother gifted to her. (Hello Kitty would stand the test of time, I make the rules and you know I’m right.)

She puts some half and half as well as a little sugar in her coffee most days, but sometimes she switches it up for funzies to varied results.

One day on shore leave, a friend of hers taught her how to do latte art and she has been OBSESSED with it since.

She has her own coffee machine and she brings it to the rec area some mornings to make latte art for other crew members! She loves making hearts and leaves the most!

Her favorite part is seeing others smile when she gives them their special coffee <3

Because she knows how much he needs it, sometimes she lets Bones use her coffee machine to get a fresh cup.

She likes to make him special latte art when she is on breaks because she loves seeing how it cheers him up!

Sulu:

Sulu only ever has coffee on special occasions.

It’s not something he needs every day so he only ever has one when he is on shore leave or vacation and it strikes his fancy.

He loves to try specialty coffees from different places to taste the regional differences.

Chekov:

Chekov LOVES coffee.

However, he is not allowed to have it after…the incident.

Scotty installed a special sensor on the replicators so that if he tries to make a coffee, it doesn’t work.

If Chekov does have coffee…oh boy, strap in. He is like a little kid with a sugar rush! Pavel will NOT be able to sit still to the point where it impedes his work and annoys everyone around him.

He is bouncing off the walls like nobody’s business!

The last time Pavel got his hands on some coffee while he was on duty, Sulu was assigned to wrangle him. It ended with Pavel tied to a chair and gagged.

So yeah the entire bridge crew knows NEVER to let him have any coffee anymore.

💫Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs and comments are adored <3💫

[httpcarlossainzcom]

idealizations concerning real life relations- cs55

In this fic carlos has tattoos bc i wanted to write something abt a guy with tattoos cause i love them

warnings: i have very bad grammar (sorry not sorry….) also this is an 18+ fic minors do not interact!

summary: Carlos loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

song inspiration: summers over interlude - drake and majid jordan, each time you fall in love - cigarettes after sex, from the dining table - harry styles

word count: 26k (sorry babes)

this is split up into multiple parts so dont worry :)

pt 1

summer

Souls are stars. Half of a star to be exact. Clearly this means your soulmate, or whatever shares the other half. 

When you die, your body becomes the earth. The trees, the flowers, the grass. Dirt. And your soul becomes stardust that ascends back to its rightful place in the night sky until the other half of your star meets you there. 

And there you stay until it’s your time to live again. You’re then a falling star. Shooting, flying, breaking apart as you soar across the sky. Pieces of you and them scattered who knows where, some pieces falling longer than others, some finding their place on the earth immediately. Until the universe decides to bring you back to one another. Born again. Together again. If you’re lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. But if not in this one, then perhaps the next. Or maybe you were together in the one before. Maybe it’s guaranteed. Once a lover, always a lover. In this life and in the next. 

Who knows? You sure as hell don’t. 

It doesn’t make sense. The way you think about the stars and the people around you. You know that. It’s not like you live by it or anything. You don’t even like space. Know that realistically stars are just gas and that when they fall from the sky they are dying, not reincarnating. They smash into the ground and then. Poof. Gone forever, nothing but a black hole left behind. You also know that soulmates are a fairytale at best and a beautifully spun cruel web of lies at worst. 

But being a part of a star and having a… person sounds a lot better to you than eternal damnation or a forever of nothing but void darkness. 

“Iced Hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk for __!”

Blushing Brews is hectic but the barista is a smiling little caffeine fairy granting your wish for energy in the form of a small plastic cup. You smile as you take the drink from him. His smile is blinding, it hurts to look at him directly.

You think that maybe not everyone is part of a star and that maybe some are just random, pointless space rocks that fall to earth. But not the barista. He’s definitely part star.

“Thanks,” you say.

You shuffle through the people waiting for their drinks and take a seat at your usual table. The whole coffee shop is quaint and cute, the chairs vintage and upholstered in different shades of velvet fabric. The tables have dried flowers and flakes of gold encapsulated in them. Your table is a little to the left next to the large window, with the order station still in view. You get to people watch the folks outside and person watch the one inside, only one soul able to hold your attention indoors. Aside from the friends sat with you at your table of course. You stir your drink.

“I bet his cum tastes like the oat milk he puts in my coffee.” You stare at the barista behind the counter, innocently just doing his job, oblivious to the way he glows so bright. “Thick and creamy… kinda sweet…” 

“You are so-” Luisinha starts. 

“Disgusting. She’s disgusting,” Charles finishes for her. If the barista is a star, Charles is a space rock.

You raise your eyebrows, contemplative. He’s not wrong. Dirty, nasty, disgusting. You’re all of the above. But you’re also a hopeless romantic. Forever in love with the idea of love and all the different parts of it. Always looking at every aspect of life, through rose-tinted glasses. If you wanted to idealize the barista’s sperm, you would. Who was Charles Leclerc to stop you? You take a sip of the coffee the barista prepared for you. “You know he never charges me extra for it, even though he’s supposed to.”

“He should. Considering he could probably get in trouble and also how you objectify him.” Charles grimaces as he downs his black espresso.  

“I don’t objectify him, I romanticize him. I simply observe him and speak everything that goes on in my pretty little head.” Both of your friends give you a flat stare. “Okay, it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He may not know the extent of his charm, but you know he knows he’s charming. “He has a whole sleeve and wears massive stompers to crush hearts. What’s he doing working in a coffee shop?”

“His job?”

“No. He’s trying to subtly leave an impression on unsuspecting creative writing majors that never had a strong male figure in their life, just so he can further ingrain in their head that while he is breathtaking, and makes an incredible iced hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk, he will surely leave just like everyone else, only to become a distant pink memory that they can’t forget, no matter how hard they try and how insignificant.”

“He doesn’t even know your name,” Luisinha says, with a roll of her eyes.

“How can you go from talking about his nut to calling him breathtaking and pink?” Charles pulls his laptop out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

“Of course he knows my name. Also. You know what else I bet is pink? His big fat-”

“Shut up.”

You hum, swiftly transitioning. “I’m multifaceted and the definition of dichotomy.” Out comes your notebook. You could at least look like you’re being productive. “I only handwrite poetry and I pull over when I see a field of flowers and I think we are all made of stars, but I also like getting railed and degraded, as well as emotionally demeaned,” You pause, thinking for just a moment, “Though that’s more for my art than anything. Duality.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure. Don’t look now but barista baby is walking this way.”

Barista baby. A pastel feeling starts to creep its way over your skin, leaving goosebumps, and a blush in its wake. You glance in the direction of the counter and sure enough, during a lull in traffic he’s out from behind the counter and he looks like he’s coming directly for you. His big black pants that are decorated with a chain jingle as he takes heavy steps with boot-clad feet. Maybe you’re dramatic but you think you can see a trail of stardust behind him. You look away. Too bright.

“Hey, can I clear these cups for you?” he asks, reaching for Charles’ empty one, and Luisinha’s mostly full one. His voice is deep and as soft as the velvet you’re sitting on. He pauses when he feels the weight of Luisinha’s cup. “Oh sorry about that.” He sets it back down.

“Take it, she doesn’t even like coffee, she just gets it for the aesthetic. She’s an art major.” You roll your eyes, sipping your drink.

“Why do you add my major at the end of every insult?” Luisinha groans at you before turning to the barista. “Do you even know her name?”

“Luisinha!” you gasp. Charles’ laughing quietly next to you, typing away.

The barista looks between you and your friend hesitantly before saying. “Of course I do, it’s __. She comes in here like at least 3 times a week.”

Luisinha sniffs and you beam.

“Do you know my name?” the barista quizzes.

Your eyes flicker from his face down to the little chalkboard name tag attached to the mauve apron that he’s wearing over his short sleeve black shirt. ‘Chili ♥’ is written in pink chalk. Cute.

“Yeah it’s Chili,” you say, leaning forward on the table, giving him your full attention.

He smirks. “Don’t let my manager hear that. It’s actually Carlos.”

“Well, Carlos, you would not believe what __ had to say about the oat milk you guys have here. She said-” Luisinha starts.

“I said,” you cut her off shooting her daggers, “That it’s super thick and creamy, really yummy.”

“Speaking of oat milk,” Carlos says unfazed, “You literally break my heart every time you stir that drink.” He leans forward bracing his hands on the table, kinda crowding your space, and nods his head in the direction of your half-empty, light brown coffee.

‘You literally break my heart every time you look at me.’ You think. You slow blink at him. “Why is that?”

“It’s supposed to be consumed in layers.” His eyes are twinkling, and his smile is just a little crooked.

You hum, thoughtfully. “Would it make you happy if I consumed it in layers?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. He’s trying to suppress a smile, his shoulders shaking lightly with poorly concealed laughter.

Luisinha fights back a gag as she chokes on the tension radiating off of you and Carlos. Quickly she raises to her feet, and snatches Charles’ laptop right from his hands, tucking it underneath her arm before she’s pulling the older boy out of his seat. 

“Charles I just remembered that we need to finish that project-“

“Luiza you’re an art major, and I’m an engineering major. Our classes are in completely different buildings. There’s actually no plausible way for that to be believable and I would literally never pick you as my partner. One because you…” They fade out as they get closer to the door, making their exit.

Carlos glances at the newly free seat before peeking at the counter. Still no queue. He takes it upon himself to sit. He places his chin on his hands, tattoos and rings on full display. “Yeah. It would.” He states plainly.

You shift in your seat. It’s so hard to look at a star close up. You squint. “What if that made me not happy?” It truly would ruin your day. Why would you drink straight oat milk, and then straight espresso when you could mix it and enjoy both flavors at once?

He searches your features before cocking his head to the side, a tiny closed-lip smile on his face. “What would make you happy then?”

Your heartbeat is fast and heavy and you can hear it in your ears, everything else subdued and muted. You bring a well-manicured hand down trace at one of the blossoms in the table. You can’t look at him anymore, not when you say it. With faux confidence you speak, “You could take me out.” 

You see him tense in your peripheral. You’re still tracing the flower, breath stuck in your throat. 

“No,” he says. Your hand jerks, ruining the perfect petals you’ve been outlining. You recover quickly, clearing your throat.

“Well-”

“You could take me out.”

Your head whips up. Eyes wide and doe-like before you get your composure. You scoff. “What’s the difference? Also, why haven’t you talked to me before?”

He looks like he’s thinking, a brief flicker of something flashes in his eyes, gone too fast for you to place it. He looks like he’s settling when he says, “I like to be pursued.” 

A smile slowly graces your lips. You nod. “Fair enough.”

He brings his hand down and brushes his pinky against your finger that was tracing the flower. It’s weird how your whole body burns hot and ignites from such a small touch. “I gotta go,” he says, tone soft and hazy and baby pink. 

You glance towards the door just as a couple walks in. You purse your lips and make a soft agreeing noise.

Carlos raises from his seat, smoothing out his apron. He’s walking away when you speak up.

“Why don’t you ever charge me for the oat milk?”

He glances back at you, a radiant star-filled smile on his face. “To make you happy.”

A small rush of air pushes past your lips as you watch him walk away. You wonder if anyone has ever been successful when pursuing a star. 

You do your best to get to work, though your eyes keep flickering to the counter. Carlos catches you just once or twice. Each time he smiles and looks away, focusing once again on the orders he’s being given. 

The couple that interrupted your and Carlos’s conversation ends up sitting a few tables away. Not close enough for you to hear, but close enough for you to watch. Ever the daydreamer, you wonder what they are saying. What should we get for lunch? Did you call your mom like you said you would? Do you want to stay the night? Are you the other half of my star?

The girl is offering the boy a sip of her drink, his hand coming up to cover hers as he guides it to his mouth. She smiles big, eyes half crescents, when he nods in approval, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek, grinning into it. They settle into a conversation, hands moving, heads shaking.

You close your notebook and head to campus. Carlos doesn’t notice you’ve left until a few hours later.

~~~~~

autumn 

“Fancy seeing you here!”

You jump, almost knocking over your coffee and glance next to you to see the beautiful boy who scared you. 

Carlos is fresh-faced with his eyes brighter than ever, and he smells like freshly ground coffee beans. The expensive imported kind. From Colombia or something. Maybe Paris. You think a pretty boy like Carlos would look good in Paris. Anywhere beautiful really. A beautiful boy in a beautiful place. It just makes sense. He’s still got his apron on and his hair is tied up today, little flyaways framing his face like a halo. 

“Is it really?” you ask, trying to sound bored. Trying to quiet the butterflies in your tummy. 

You’ve got your laptop with you. No distractions in the form of pointless scribbles or poorly written couplets about boys with coffee eyes and kisses that probably taste like coffee to match, today! You’ve got a Humanities paper due in about 8 hours.

“I guess not, considering you’re here literally all the time.” He grins and scoots closer. “What are you doing?”

“I have a paper due later, so I’m just finishing that up.” You ignore the scoff he makes when he sees you’ve barely got half a page written.

Carlos reaches to his other side and offers up a new coffee, figuring yours would be watered down by now. Considering you’ve been here since opening. It’s particularly quiet for a Friday, but the lull in business is always welcome. Carlos glances to the counter at the storefront, only to find that Lando’s staring and when he catches Carlos’s eye, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Carlos smiles a tiny grin, but other than that, the other barista is swiftly ignored.

You take the coffee with a small ‘Thank you.’ and then hold his gaze as you deliberately stir it, mixing the carefully poured layers. You smile when Carlos’s eye twitches.

“Very unhappy right now.”

You sip away.

“What’s your major?”

“Creative writing. Do you go to school? I haven’t seen you around campus.” You make sure to save what you have so far, just in case you get even more distracted and forget to do so later. 

He shakes his head, pretty earring twinkling in the window light. “I would hate to be stuck somewhere for 4 years, and then not even be guaranteed a job after all that debt I would be in.” He pauses and then chuckles at how gloomy he sounds. “I do apprentice at a tattoo shop every now and again. Your major makes sense though. Seems fitting.”

You tuck the tattoo apprenticeship information away, saving it for a later conversation. “How do you know what fits me?” 

His expression is sly. “I know more about you than you think. I hear the way you talk about things, and see how you look at them. Plus you’ve always got your nose in your notebook. Do you want to be an author?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, a trace of bitterness seeping through and tainting your expression. “We all want to be authors.” You unfold and refold the napkin in your hand, before tossing it to the side. “I’m going to be an editor, or a journalist, or… something.”

“Don’t worry you have time to think about it.”

You give him a sideways glance. “I mean- not really, I graduate at the end of the spring semester.”

He regards you with curious eyes for a second. He looks like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyebrows furrow like he comes up empty with no explanation for what he is wondering. So with a faint confused smile, he asks, “Why do you live like that?”

You place the coffee you were about to sip back down, caught off guard a little by his genuinely inquisitive and soft tone. “Like what? With long term goals?”

He laughs, loud. It’s brash and startling in the quiet coffee shop. He throws his head back and his eyes crinkle. Some people turn to look at you both. You don’t care. “I mean that’s one way of saying it. But what I mean is like- what if you change your mind? Or like I don’t know… get bored?”

You pause. It’s a loaded, scary question. You wonder if the jobs you listed would really be enough to satisfy someone like you. Someone who’s always thinking about things in a way that makes them seem better than they are. Someone who sees things in extremes and thinks stars are inside of people. Someone who has a constant feeling inside that always wants more. You wonder if you actually will get bored. What you’d do if you did. You don’t want to think about it anymore, so you don’t. Instead, simply stating, “I love writing. I won’t change my mind about that, and as long as I’m doing something that has to do with it, then I’ll be fine.” You think you’re telling the truth, mostly at least.

He makes a soft noise of understanding, but you’re not sure if he actually does.

“I guess if I had something I loved like you love writing then I would see things differently. I just don’t love anything that much. Nothing but my freedom. And it seems like everything tries to take that away eventually.”

Your breath catches and you think something cracks inside of you. Can you ever truly contain a star? Or is it the tighter you hold it, the more likely it is to explode? A supernova waiting to happen?

Before you can respond he speaks up again. “But hey, listen. We should, like, hang out.”

“Oh? I thought you wanted me to take you out?” You jest.

He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “You’re still going to.” 

~~~~

The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s. You could be his, he could be yours. You paint a picture of potential in your head, all different shades of pink and red and doused in stardust. 

You’re levelheaded and sane in most areas of your life, can understand the consequences of moving too fast, not taking the time to think, and not seeing things for what they truly are. But when it comes to things that have to do with liking, with loving, with wanting… You’re brash and eager. You cling to idealizations and dream of scenarios. It makes you infatuated quick, attached even quicker. It’s not a bad thing really. You just fall fast and love easily. You’re good at hiding it, but that sweet pink feeling? It’s always there, just simmering under the surface. 

The party is loud and so is your beating heart. Thump, thump, thump. The room has an almost opaque hazy feeling to it, smoke lingering in the air from whatever everyone is smoking. You take a sip from your red plastic cup, grimace, then drink some more. You don’t drink that often, but it’s nice. Once you can’t taste or feel the burn of it anymore. Once it makes you float a little. People are bumping into you, as you leave the kitchen. You just refilled your drink. Vodka and some juice this time. 

“__!” 

He’s running towards you at the speed of light. At least it seems like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s because he’s just fast. Maybe it’s just because you’ve got a crush. He doesn’t need to run, you’ll still be there. He’s stopped by people here and there, ugly moths flocking to a bright flame. He flutters away with soft dismissive smiles, a few ‘Hey I’ll catch you later, okay?’s. It makes you feel fuzzy.

“You made it!” He’s beaming, and he’s not out of breath but his chest is moving a little faster than normal. You can see his muscles through the thin fabric of the t-shirt he’s wearing. You stare. He crowds your space, comes close enough for your hand that’s holding your drink to bump into his tummy. Very firm, very strong tummy. He’s so warm, kinda sweaty from all the excess body heat in the room. Or maybe he was dancing. You wanna watch. See how he moves. You take another drink, grazing his stomach as you bring your arm back down.

“You came,” He says again. He’s talking to the top of your head, mostly, your eyes still distracted. His hand comes up to grip at the elbow of your bent arm, just resting there. Just touching.

At last, look up at him, and you have to consciously take a breath. He’s glowing so bright in the hazy, smoky room, surely he doesn’t belong here. At the party. On Earth. He’s wearing a wide neck tee, it shows off the length of his collarbones. They are pretty, strong. But you don’t linger.  And you ignore the fresh blossoms of sore red skin that are already there. Just peeking out. You showed up late. Carlos doesn’t seem like the type to wait. Not that he was waiting for you. Maybe he was. You hope he was. Even if he found things to keep him occupied while doing so.

“Yeah, I came.” You look at him over the lip of your cup. You’re almost there, almost floating.

He doesn’t say anything when he takes the cup from your hand, holding it from the top, taking a sip of his own. He doesn’t grimace. Maybe he’s already used to the taste. You’d say something but the drinks make you a little sluggish, your quick-wit slowed down. You’re not drunk, far from it, you’re just feeling… nice. He takes your hand, drags you through the crowd of people. That feels nice too. His hand is big and warm, kinda rough yet baby soft at the same time. You’ve always loved contradictions. He’s pulling you to the living room. There’s a ratty couch in the corner with your name on it. Probably spelled in a variety of questionable fluids.

“My friends-” you say realizing you lost Luisinha and Charles.

“They’ll find you, don’t worry. The house isn’t that big.” It’s kind of hard to hear him. You lean closer.

To your surprise, Charles and Luisinha are actually already there, making quick friends with the other barista from Blushing Brews. Lando, you remember Carlos mentioning him here and there. A few other people are around too, some you vaguely recognize from campus or just around, some you’ve never seen before. There’s not that much room on the couch.

You glance up at Carlos, but he doesn’t seem bothered, easily finding a place for himself. He’s still got your hand, so you’re dragged with him, settling half on his lap half on the cushion. You’re kind of sideways, back against the arm of the couch, side pressed against him, legs over his lap. His hand is on your mid-thigh, fingers on the inner seam of your jeans. He’s not doing anything but it feels good. He’s got his other arm around the armrest of the sofa, around you. It’s a little too hot to be sitting so close, but you don’t say anything and neither does he.

The conversation around you is hectic, bouncing from topic to topic. You’re content just sitting and listening, casually just nursing your drink. Luisinha’s going on about the latest piece for her portfolio and how she got accepted to be part of the university’s winter showcase which was kinda of a big deal, and a guy named Alex is talking about the wonders of botany, and the medicinal benefits of plants. There’s a couple of girls around too, you smile whenever you accidentally make eye contact with them while people watching. They smile back, eyes flitting curiously between you and Carlos. He squeezes your thigh. You press them together, subconsciously, mostly a natural reaction.

“Hey,” He says quietly, so only you hear.

You turn your head to look at him, instead of the people around you. You make a surprised noise when you see how close you are, noses almost touching, him already looking at you. You question him with a look.

He doesn’t need to, your proximity already near, but he presses his lips against your hair, right next to your ear, his cheek brushing yours. “Are you comfy?” You feel him smile more than see it. 

You wiggle your toes in your sneakers, press your side a little closer to his chest. “Mhmm.” You glance down when you feel his fingers start to trace the seam of your pants, no longer just squeezing and holding. You honestly can’t help it if you spread your legs just a bit wider in response. You think you feel his breath hitch, before you definitely feel his hand settle high on your inner thigh. It’s nothing scandalous, but it’s something. Makes that sickly sweet feeling boil in your belly.

“You look pretty.” There’s a lazy grin on his face, he’s looking at you with so much contentment that it makes you squirm. You wonder if he’s high. His hand on your thigh tightens. You ask him if he is.

He giggles, cute and quiet before pressing his face into your shoulder like he’s embarrassed. “No, I was but not anymore.” When he looks at you again, his cheeks are tinted pink. He looks pretty too. You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s about to argue. But the bubble you both were protected in is popped by Lando’s loud voice, mentioning his name.

“Don’t let Carlos hear you say that. He’s the most cynical person I know. Will crush the little daydream in your head so quick.”

Carlos laughs, before chiming in, “Who’s day do I need to ruin?”

One of the guys you don’t know speaks up. He’s got broad shoulders and plump lips. “Sofia, over here thinks she’s found her soulmate in the form of her Mathematics professor.” He rolls his eyes like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. 

You look at the girl and she’s laughing light heartedly, not taking the jabs too seriously. You catch Charles’ eye, and he’s already looking at you, eyes bubbling with soft concern, like he knows where this conversation is going to go. 

Carlos adjusts you on his lap, not much, just enough so he can sit up some more and be fully attentive. He keeps his hands all over you. You don’t miss the way almost everyone’s eyes are on you, nosy and full of questions.

“Sofia, let me ask you this. Let’s say on the incredibly off chance soulmates do exist, why the fuck would he be in your hometown, that you literally have never left? There’s 7 billion people in the world and you think you met your ‘one true love’ at your University?” he even uses air-quotes. 

Sofia sniffs, and turns her nose up. “I think it’s fate that-“

Carlos interrupts her with an obnoxious buzzer noise. “EH. Wrong. Please Sofia. Believing in that shit is just setting yourself up for disappointment.” He shakes his head, exasperated, before he settles back into the couch. His fingers start tickling your inner thigh again.

Everyone’s kinda chuckling, even Luisinha when she asks, “Damn man… Who the fuck hurt you?”

Everyone really chuckles at that. Except Carlos. He shrugs trying to come off unbothered. Calm, cool, and collected. Like he didn’t just passionately crush a girl’s hopes of finding the one. Although you will admit, falling for your university teacher probably wasn’t the best path to follow on the quest for finding your person. 

“No one,” Carlos says, “I just think it’s stupid.”

Lando cackles, high pitched and teasing. “Yeah okay. Don’t listen to him. He got his heart broke a few years ago and hasn’t been the same since.”

Carlos laughs like he’s over it. You wonder if he is. “Shut the fuck up Lando.” His eyes still have starshine in them when he turns his attention back to you. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want one?”

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. He squeezes your thigh before he goes, leaving with a quiet, “Stay here okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Luisinha’s quick to take his place, plopping your legs in her lap like Carlos had. “You okay?”

She says it lightly like she’s trying to not make it a big deal. And it’s not. Not really. Sure you thought of a few could be’s and wished on a few stars. But you know he’s right in some ways. It’s a good thing you don’t really believe in soulmates either. Not really. You believe in people and in stars. In could be’s.

“Yeah I’m good.” You say back quiet. “I don’t believe in them either. Not seriously.” You try to laugh off his incredulous look. 

“Are you really? I saw you writing about him, and you’ve been like extra daydreamy lately.”

You roll your eyes. “First of all, don’t snoop. Second of all, it’s just a crush.” You shrug.

She looks at you a little sadly. “We both know you don’t have ‘just crushes’.”

“Actually, I do, now. So please drop it, and go flirt with Lando some more. I’m going to the bathroom.” You swing your legs off her and wander around for a little bit. You didn’t really have to pee that bad to begin with.

~~~~

During your house roaming escapades, you accidentally walked in on a few people, and never actually found the bathroom you were supposed to be in. Now you’re in a hallway, looking at an elaborate family photo wall. Turns out you have no clue whose house this is, despite Carlos mentioning the guy went to your university.

There’s old photos of a couple that turn to marriage photos of a couple. The couple posed in front of a house. Then there’s baby photos, turned into school photos. Color coordinated christmas cards. You squint. You know pictures don’t really tell you much,  but they look happy. With their picturesque life. You wonder if the parents share a star. 

You jump and let out a squeak when you feel a hand grab the bend of your elbow and spin you around. 

“There you are,” Carlos sing-songs, trying to not laugh at the noise you made. “I was looking for you.”

You lean against the opposite wall of the pictures. He crowds your space. He smells good. You don’t know how you didn’t notice when you were on the couch with him. Maybe it was the smoke floating around. It’s a little easier to breathe here, in the random hallway you found. Or at least it was till he showed up. 

“You found me.” You sing back. He smiles, almost shyly. But his eyes drop to your lips and then back up.

“What were you doing?” He asks. He moves to lean against the wall next to you, trying to get a look at what you were distracted by when he found you.

“Just being nosy.” You hum. “Did you get your drink?” 

He looks down at his empty hands, and then leans his head back on the wall, laughing softly to himself. A little drop of sweat rolls down his extended neck. You swallow. It’s still early to mid fall. The weather is still hot enough. Plus all the bodies in the house. Plus he’s a star, always burning so bright. Must be tiring. Sweat inducing.

“I think I forgot it when I went looking for you.” He rolls his head to the side to look at you, and he’s got that lazy grin on his face again. 

“Wanna go get it?” You ask, already pushing yourself off the wall.

He’s quick when he stops you, hand on your shoulder gently guiding you back. He’s in front of you again, closer this time. Hotter.

“No, no. It’s okay. We’re- good here. This is good.” His eyes keep flickering to your lips. It’s making you squirm, something starts to stir in your belly. You shift under his gaze.

“Do you do this with all of your friends?” Your voice is softer now, the casual atmosphere you both were just in, long gone. The tension is tangible now and you’re too scared to speak up, afraid you might break if you do. 

He hums, angling his body even closer to you. Your back is against the wall now, and the sounds of the party around you are muffled. One of his arms comes up, bracing his forearm by your head bracketing you in on one side. His other hand comes up to toy with the bottom of your shirt. “Do what with them?” His voice is just as soft. 

You swallow. “Look at them like you’re gonna kiss them.”

His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, eyes dropping to your lips again. He licks his own, and now they’re wet. The light hits them just right to make them shine. What do stars taste like? He drags his gaze back up deliberately slow. “Yeah. I kiss all my friends.” It’s said on an exhale as he leans closer to you. His lips graze your ear. “Don’t you?”

You let out a trembling breath, shaking your head. A warning signal goes off in your brain, red-lights flashing. That’s a red flag, you’re sure of it. But for some reason, in your mind, the lights, the flag… they look pink, almost enticing instead of worrisome. The blaring warning alarms slow and blur into a melodious siren song.

He’s shifting closer again. The heat from his body is scalding. Part of you wishes you could move back, most of you wants to press into it. Get burned just a little. “You don’t?” he asks. There’s a little bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, you can hear the smile. “Why’s that?” The hand by your head plays with a small piece of your long hair, twirling it around his fingers. You get a glimpse of his tattoos. Pretty.

You struggle to find something to say. You don’t want to say you only kiss your boyfriends, you don’t want to scare him. Because you want this, you do. You just- “I- I only kiss special friends.” -want it to mean something. 

It rushes past your lips and you’re not able to stop it. Not able to really think about what you’re saying. Not able to think about what you’re implying, what you’re agreeing to. You feel his grip on your hip tighten a little, and his body pushes towards you, just grazing yours. He’s not hard yet but he’s excited. Cock a little thicker and heavier and pushing out just a little more than normal. Your eyes squeeze shut and you try not to whimper. 

He nuzzles against your temple. “That’s good, we can be special friends. I like that.” 

He’s leaning in and you’re about to ask him if he means it, the thing he said about liking it, but the tension is shattered and the fragile atmosphere is ruined. 

“Carlos! You better leave that poor girl alone!”

It’s said by Lando, it’s always him it seems. He’s drunk and hauled over Luisinha’s shoulder, just passing by the hallway you’re in on their way to presumably the bedrooms. There’s a few people laughing and following them, waiting for a show and consequently, some filter into your secret hallway and take it upon themselves to make it their space as well.

Carlos sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I gotta go make sure he wraps it.” He sounds annoyed but amused. “He’s had chlamydia one too many times. Insurance won’t cover his clinic costs anymore.”

You snort. “Please tell me you’re joking.” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Actions bold for the fragile feeling floating around you both. His eyes track the movement and you don’t miss how he tenses before your arm falls back to your side. 

“Yeah I am, but I should still go make sure he’s being safe.” 

You nod. “You’re a good friend, Carlos.”

He rolls his eyes, playful when he squeezes your hip. “Don’t forget you still have to take me out.” 

“I won’t.”

His smile matches your own. “I’ll see you?”

You nod again, as he turns to jog in the direction that Lando and Luisinha went. You wish he looked back. Oh well.

~~~~

Early to mid-fall bleeds into late autumn.Still warm during the day like a soft summer’s kiss, just a little chilly during nightfall like the last words of a past lover. You and Carlos haven’t talked about the party. And he hasn’t tried to kiss you since. Things are different though. Soft touches here and there, more frequent than before. Even softer, stilted flirting ensued during the following weeks. He wasn’t acting shy, never that. 

But it’s like he was waiting for you. Waiting to be pursued. You guess. It’s clear he wants more, but it’s almost like he doesn’t want to be the one to push for it. Give in to it. You don’t really know. You also don’t think too much about it. Don’t think a lot about anything other than him, and the next time you’ll see him, next moment you’ll get to spend time with him. Usually, you don’t have to wait too long. He spends most of his breaks with you at the coffee shop, now. It’s a sweet thing he does, just like how he’s been putting that extra pump of sweetener into your drink lately.

Today, however, you are not at Blushing Brews, you’re at the fair. Large rides and crooked games line the surrounding area of the boardwalk, sounds of people screaming and laughing fill the air. It smells like heart disease and the salty ocean. It’s not too crowded, it’s been open for a while, you came on one of the last days it was in town. 

“This is me taking you out by the way,” you say around a spoonful of frozen cherry limeade.

Carlos hums as he leans down, wanting a taste. You want to taste too, just not of his frozen lemonade. You scoop a heaping amount. Maybe he’ll get a brain freeze. 

“You don’t say?” He smiles before wincing, mouth forming a small ‘o’. He’s blowing out like he’s trying to warm the inside of his mouth. You smile, spoon between your teeth. 

“Tasty?” you ask, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Cold.” he responds, still trying to melt the icy slush in his mouth. He offers you a bite of his.

“Too sour,” you decline. “I only like sweet things.” 

~~~

The wind is blowing, the breeze is pleasant after running around the fair all day. Hours have gone by, playing games that you both know are rigged, bartering with the worker until you’re giving up and buying the prize you want anyway, a medium sized Hello Kitty plush with a pink bow. Riding rides that are terrifying simply because they get taken apart and put back together, time and time again. Eating way too many fried foods and drinking far more sugary drinks than is healthy. But neither you or Carlos have mentioned wanting to leave.  

You walk the boardwalk and take a seat at the ledge of the pier and Carlos’s close by following suit. Feet are dangling off the edge, and a soft mist of salty water tickles your ankles. It’s night time now. The stars are bright in their home. You lean back and brace yourself on your extended arms, palms on the wooden pier.

“You know that stuff you said at the party? About soulmates?” You’re not looking at him, eyes up towards the sky. You can feel him gazing at your profile though. It burns a little. Everything about him is hot. Not unbearably so. Kinda like when you turn the shower on as hot as it can go. Scalding, but good.

“About all of it being bullshit?” he laughs to himself. “Yeah I remember. I’ll say it again too.” He knocks your extended elbow causing it to buckle, playful and cheery like he always is. How can being around him be such a contradiction? Light-hearted yet suffocating. Doesn’t matter really. Not like you’re going to stop. Not until he tells you to. You scowl at him before righting yourself.

You’re quiet for a moment, long enough for Carlos to follow your gaze and glance at the navy blanket above you both. “I believe it,” you state.

He’s looking at you again. You look at him as well, face impassive. “You do?” he asks. He doesn’t really sound surprised. Why would he be? What writer doesn’t believe in something as far fetched as reciprocated love?

You shrug lightly. “Maybe not like soulmates. But I think we have like… a person that we could spend a really long time with. Forever even. Maybe longer if we’re lucky.” He doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I also think we are all part of the stars. And we share a star with our person.”

Carlos’s confused to say the least but he goes with it. You live in a constant daydream, and he knew you had your head in the clouds when he first met you, decided that he wanted you. “If we’re stars, how do we get to earth?”

“We fall. Falling stars,” you explain. He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement.

You both fall silent, the distant sound of laughter and the rolling waves the only thing letting you know the world hasn’t fallen mute. The reflection on the moon dances on the ripples of the ocean.

“How did you… come to this conclusion?”

Again you shrug. You lay back on the salty, sandy wood of the dock. “I don’t know really. I just like the sound of it. The idea.” You give a half suppressed laugh, feeling kinda silly. He lays down next to you, attention fully taken by the stars. 

You don’t know why. He sees himself everyday.

“So you really have no idea?”

“I mean…” you start. Think a short moment. “We really don’t have any idea about anything we can’t physically see. Right? Like we have no idea if heaven’s real or not because we can’t see it. Hell too. I don’t even know if Australia is a real place.”

Carlos chuckles. “Of course it’s real.”

“How do you know? Have you been? Have you seen the alleged opera house? A kangaroo even?” You raise your eyebrows challenging him.

He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe you. He’s smiling though. Always shining. “I’ve seen pictures. And other people have been.”

“And you just believe them? People say they have been to heaven, there’s pictures of angels.”

A staring contest ensues before he’s rolling his eyes, giving up. He waves a lazy, bony hand. Wrist limp, as he gestures for you to just get on with it. 

A smug grin graces your lips. “It’s the same with soulmates. People think they are real, claim to have met theirs on some off chance. But, that’s all subjective hearsay.” You kick your feet, still dangling, just tempting the ocean to drag you in. Maybe a shark will get you. Maybe a sea spirit. “But… the stars? They are right there. People? Literally everywhere. You? You’re right next to me. I can see all of it. I know it’s all there, and real. There’s a connection. It means something I think.”

He hums a few times like he’s processing something, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts running around in his mind. He takes a deep breath. “Stars are really big you know. Don’t you think it's… I don’t know, like suffocating for the star to confine them to being someone’s soulmate?”

“Not soulmate.”

“You know what I mean.”

Head shaking, you deny what he says. “No, I don’t think it’s confining or suffocating. Being important to someone is so special; precious. A big deal for them.” You nod towards the sky.

When he whispers, it’s said so quietly you almost miss it, “What if the star doesn’t want that?”

His words hurt for some reason. It’s stupid, and you can’t explain it, but the ache is piercing, like a sweet tooth left untreated for too long, slowly decaying, sharp stabs of pain throbbing.

“Don’t you think the stars get lonely?” You murmur back. 

He swallows audibly, and you hear him let out a breath that trembles just a hint too much to be considered normal. Carlos rolls to his side so he’s facing you, he has a dopey smile on his face, just a little bit crooked and uneven. It looks forced, but you let him have it. “Well… which star am I then? If we all are made of stardust.” He’s trying to tease. Trying to breathe.

You look at him with a light blush on your cheeks. The multicolored fair lights are glowing over his face, rapidly changing color. It’s like you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope. It’s dizzying. That’s not why your stomach is doing flips though. You roll over to your side, body to body. Only a few inches in between you both. 

“You’d be the north star, I think.”

He hums, closes his eyes so his lashes kiss the apple of his cheek, a soft expression taking over his features. They’re still shut when he ponders, “Why would I be that one?”

You don’t have to think about it. “Because it’s the brightest star in the whole sky.” 

His brows furrow before he opens his eyes, he looks confused. “Which one are you?”

You shrug again. He keeps asking you questions you don’t know the answers to. You don’t even like space that much. Just the idea of it. You like the idea of a lot of things. 

“I don’t know if I’m star material.” You laugh rolling onto your back again, looking up once more. The stars look so close, right next to each other, but in reality they are so far apart. You think about how you and Carlos are separated by just a few inches. A foot at most. Yet in this moment, it feels like you couldn’t reach him if you tried. “I’m probably like a space rock or something. So essentially the same. Just less luxurious. People don’t make wishes on me. Space rocks are pretty pointless and useless. Just look at Charles. He’s a space rock too.” You’re laughing as you say it. Carlos’s not.

“I shouldn’t be that one,” he whispers. “And if someone like me gets to be a star, then you get to be one too.”

A small smile is still on your face when you gaze at him again. “Someone like you?”

He nods.

You giggle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He regards you, eyes taking every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize you. The freckle by your eye, the faintest scar near your lip. “I think you’ll find out, eventually.” He sounds off when he answers.

Still, you don’t hesitate. “I hope so.”

~~~

The room is big but you’re sitting close to him.

“No! No! You’re like not that bad… honestly! If the whole creative writing thing doesn’t work out you could be an idol.” 

You know the boy next to you is lying. You know he is because your voice keeps cracking. Going flat or sharp whenever you get a turn on the mic. Pfft. You never could have been an idol. But when you glance at him, your cheeks aren’t flushed with embarrassment. They are flushed because of how much you have been laughing, because of the pink fuzzy feeling bubbling in your chest. You’ll probably burst soon. Carlos’s eyes are gleaming, and his lips are pursed trying to hold back his smile. Maybe it’s better that way. You wouldn’t want to be blinded. His smile too bright and full of the stars. It’s been hard to look at him the last few months. 

“You are such a liar!” You’re giggling as you playfully swat at his shoulder. 

But your laughter quiets when you feel his big hand grip around your tiny wrist before you can land a hit. His long fingers overlapping where they meet at your bone. Your eyes flick between the connected skin and his face and that’s when it happens. The world starts to move slower around the sun, and your heart makes up for it by beating that much faster. You see his doe eyes dance between all your features paying special mind to your lips. The tension between you both is tangible and hot, burning. And it’s going to happen. After months, ages, of stilted flirting and wavering touches and poorly hidden desire. Carlos is going to kiss you. 

Your lashes are fluttering, your eyes are closing, and you’re leaning forward to meet him halfway when you hear: 

“Do you have any?”

Your eyes open wide to see his mirroring yours, and your breath stutters out in quiet shock. Embarrassing. 

“W-what?” You do your best to keep your voice steady, but you’re flustered. He’s so close and his eyes are so focused. There are stars in them too. 

The grip on your wrist tightens a bit bringing your attention to your attached limbs. Yours still raised mid-strike, his raised in mid-defense. His eyes flick to his decorated forearm. Your brows furrow. 

“Any tattoos?” You ask. 

Carlos’s little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before he nods and lets out a small affirmative noise. 

You flex your hand in his hold and glance at the ink all over it. He has knuckle and hand tattoos, along with random other designs littering his skin. 

You blush. “Yeah I have a tiny black cat on my ankle… It’s supposed to be the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

You expected him to think it was silly, childish, but he smiles instead. “Jiji?”

You grin back and nod.

His lips purse together and his eyes peek at your lips again. “Did it hurt?” he muses.

You laugh a little. A breathy, incredulous thing sneaking past your lips. “I mean you know for yourself. Your whole arm is covered.” You nod your head at his arm, and your fingers twitch in his grasp, like they want to touch, trace the dark lines on his comparatively fair skin. 

The blush that falls on his cheeks is cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it, still feeling a bit childish and silly for letting your thoughts run away from you just a moment ago. Thinking he was going to finally kiss you. Tsk. Embarrassing. 

“It hurt yeah,” he says chuckling to himself, “But Jiji is black right? So it must be dark? That hurts worse. Especially on the ankle.” his boot-clad foot nudges up against the ankle where he knows the piece is, brushing against it gently. He doesn’t take his eyes off your face. 

You think about the fact that he knows which ankle you have tattooed, the way he knows what technique was used on it. How he knew it was a dark, filled in tattoo, not just an outline like it very well could have been, without even having to look away from you to peek at it and double check. You think about how he asked, just to ask, despite already knowing. You think about what that could mean. You think about how he must have been paying attention to you, taking in small details about you and filing them away without you even knowing or noticing. You think about how he maybe just wants to hear you talk sometimes. The gulp is audible when you swallow down the sweet, tingly feeling that’s crawling up your throat like bile. 

It’s only you two in the noraebang room, the distant sound from the rooms surrounding is loud, loud enough for you to speak up. And yet your voice comes out as a soft whisper when you answer. He leans closer to hear you. “It hurt at first, when he went over it, you know? But after a while… I don’t know. It felt like warm? I kind of liked it. You know… the pain.”

All the noises of the rooms next to you cease and it’s like your ears are filled with cotton candy clouds. All the sensitivity leaving them and migrating to your other senses making them heightened. You watch with clear eyes as Carlos’s pupils dilate. 

“Do you think I liked it? When it hurt, when I got all mine done?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s being quiet on purpose or if it’s still the baby pink clouds in your ears. 

“You might have… I know a lot of people do, but I don’t know much about you Carlos.”  

And maybe it’s coincidental. The way the kiss hurts. Feels slightly painful. Bruising and desperate. Or maybe it’s intentional. Either way, the tension between you and him comes to a head. The gasp that leaves your lips is loud and sharp, you don’t even kiss back at first because you’re so dumbstruck. Lovestruck. It’s only been a few months… Embarrassing.

 Embarrassing until it’s not. Embarrassing until you get yourself together enough and start to kiss back, hands sinking into his long hair, gripping a little too hard so you have something to tether you to this earth. Embarrassing until it’s wet and sloppy but slow and dreamy all at once. Until you feel his teeth dig into your bottom lip, his tongue following to soothe the little ache that he caused, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose because you told him you liked pain. It’s embarrassing until you can’t think about how embarrassing it is. 

Until you can’t think straight at all because the only thing going on is your mind is: this is how it feels to kiss a fucking star. Not the rich kind of star that’s dressed in designer brands and weighed down by the heaviness of the world along with too many rings and watches and chains. Not the idol kind of star either, the kind that is so carefully crafted and manufactured that it’s kind of hard to see it as a star at all when it seems more like a doll. 

No. 

Kissing Carlos is like kissing one of the stars in the sky, when they are in their rawest, purest form. The kind of star that people make wishes on when they are twinkling, when they are falling; dying. You’re dizzy and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight that little white dots are coming and going in the darkness and you think that maybe those are stars bursting right before your eyes. You hold onto the star in your hands a little tighter, kiss him just a little harder. 

He winces from the force of your kiss and pulls away. Embarrassing. 

When he looks at you his eyes are dark, and his chest is already heaving. 

He licks his lips and his eyes go down to your lips, then back up almost as if asking for permission to continue. You give him the slightest nod, and that’s it. That’s all he needs.

The noraebang seating is uncomfortable. Booth-like vinyl over barely padded benches, but you go easy as Carlos urges you to lay down, resting against the arm rest. His kisses are insistent and hot as he crawls over you, and settles between your open legs. 

He’s such a good kisser. The type to cradle your face in his palms, the type to sneak his tongue inside after teasing the seam of your lips. The type to bite gently, make you whine into his mouth, and he just eats up every little noise you make and breath that you take. It feels good, even the sharp sting of his bites, even the way the armrest presses into your back when he puts his weight on you. The hand that pulls at your hair to expose your neck to him, feels good too. 

He bites and sucks, little multicolored flowers blooming on your skin. He’s suffocating in the best way. The silence swimming around you is suffocating as well, just not in a good way. The lack of words make you feel antsy, the distant music of the neighboring booths sound muted and subdued, giving the illusion that you and Carlos are the only two in the world, in your own little bubble. It’s overwhelming. 

“You’re a good kisser,” you gasp, just to break the quiet.

You feel him smile into your neck, before he braces himself over you, looking at you smugly, yet charmingly. “You too.” he says softly. The way he rolls his hips into you, however, isn’t soft at all. 

He brings a hand down, and bunches up the material of your skirt so the only thing between you both are his layers, and your panties. You can feel him better now, can feel just how hard he is, how thick and long his cock is, rutting over your cunt. 

You spread your legs as far as you can so that you are more open for him, his cock slipping just barely between your pussy lips over your panties, rubbing over your clit every time he grinds into you. He keeps his thrusts consistent and rough, his breath stuttering out labored and hot.

You’re trying to keep quiet, but you can’t help the soft whines that slip past your lips. “Feels good, baby,” you praise. 

Your hands are gripping at his biceps, feeling the way that they flex and tremble from holding himself over you. He drops to his forearms and groans deep, burying his face in your neck. You can feel his hips start to move faster, more desperate. His breaths are puffing hot on your neck, going up in pitch at the end. He’s almost whining for you and your hips start to roll to meet his, your pussy needy and wet, craving the friction and drippy at the sound of his pleasure. His lips are alternating between biting and giving soft wet kisses.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last… I’m gonna cum-”Carlos grits out against your neck before lifting his body some to look down at your bodies where his clothed cock is grinding frantically against your panty covered pussy. 

You can hear the desperation in his voice along with a hint of shame. 

“That’s okay,” at the sound of your voice Carlos looks at you, one arm bending so he’s got his palm braced on one side of your head and his forearm on the other and you sigh out a soft pleasured sound. He looks so breathtaking. His starshine eyes are dark and wet, his fair skin is flushed and hot. There’s a bit of sweat at his hairline from how hard he’s working for his release. You wipe away a drop on his temple as you push his long hair out of his face. “You did good, you made me feel so good. Show me how good I make you feel. Please.” 

You watch as pleasure overtakes him, the hard thrust of his hips becoming even more erratic and hectic. He’s nodding along with your praise like that’s what he needed to let go, whines and groans tumbling from his lips. He’s looking at you when his eyes start to flutter and his brows turn up in pleasure. His mouth falls open and he’s coming. Hot shots of white fill his pants and you can feel the warmth of it and the throb of his cock through the thin layers of clothes separating you.

His head is hanging and his body is trembling with the after rush of his orgasm when he chuckles lightly. “That doesn’t normally happen. I swear.”

You’re kind of just laying there, on the less than comfortable noraebang booth bench, with him still in between your legs. You laugh with him softly. “Been a while?” you ask.

He shakes his head, still catching his breath and coming down, mind still a bit hazy. “No, no. You just- you’re so… different. You make me feel weird.”

The laughter that had been floating between you slowly starts to quiet as you both seem to realize what he said at the same time. He looks at you, eyes simmering with panic, and yours look back searching and confused.

It’s quick, the way he changes the subject, smothers you with his breath and distracts you with his soft kisses and even softer touches. Making your tongue too busy with his, to ask questions. Not that you would have asked. You play it off, threading your hands in his hair, kissing him deeply. The tiny little prickle of hurt you felt in your chest was completely forgotten as he kisses you back just as hard, like he wants to swallow you whole. 

He brushes some hair out of your face and whispers against your lips, “I wanna make you cum.” The hand that isn’t playing with your hair is sliding down your body, before cupping over your pussy. Your panties are wet, sticking to you. You know he can feel it because he gasps, soft and small. “Fuck, please let me.” He rests his forehead on yours, and rubs at your clit over your panties. The gentle, teasing circles are the match that ignites the little flame of arousal that has been seething within your belly.

You whisper, “What if someone comes in?”

Your hips subtly rolling into his touch at their own accord, don’t do much to show him that you’re actually worried.

He breathes a laugh against you before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and then biting softly at the apple of it. “You know why people come here… so do the people who work here. No one’s gonna bother us.”

He’s kissing your neck again, and his fingers are speeding up.

“Is that why you brought me here?” you whisper, breath hitching on a whine.

Carlos’s fingers stutter for a second before carrying on, and he looks at you with hazy lidded eyes. He has a sheepish smile on his face. “Not exactly. I wanted to hang out. But I may have been hoping for a little.” he says as he kisses you softly. “Been thinking about how you taste since that party.”

You can’t help but moan. You’ve been thinking about it too. How it feels to be completely devastated by a star in the best, most blissful way. You manage to keep some shred of decency, though. You’re not at yours or his, and you’re not in your head this time. You’re in a very public space, even if everyone knows what goes on behind the locked doors. “N-no sex.” you bargain.

He nods. “Can I use my mouth?” he nuzzles into your temple, and two of his fingers tap against your pussy. “Can I use it here?” he places the gentlest, teasing kisses between his words. “I’ll be quick.” he assures.

You whine and squirm against him. “Confident?” you ask, trying to tap into your usual, quit wit. To little avail. It’s no use. You were ruined at the first taste of him, the first feel of his lips on yours. You can only imagine how they will feel in other, more secret places.

He smiles, tongue in cheek before he shrugs lightly. “A little.”

You roll your eyes, but when he plays with your clit again, your hips buck into his palm and he takes that as a yes and moves down your body. His hands come up to play with your boobs briefly, squeezing and rolling them in his hands. “Gonna fuck these one day, okay?” he tells you.

Him saying that he’s gonna fuck your tits, should be vulgar. But to you it’s a promise that this is going to happen again, and it makes you high, floaty thinking about him wanting you, desiring you. Him already thinking about the next time he gets to have you when he hasn’t even finished with you this time. 

Your brain is hazy and his touch is burning through your clothes but that’s nothing compared to the way his breath feels on your clothed cunt when he finally finds his place between your legs. You’re wet, embarrassingly so and you know your panties are sticking to your core. Your ears are still cloudy, and you’re sure you’re probably imagining it, but when Carlos slips his fingers into the sides of your panties to peel them away, you think you can almost hear the wetness. He grabs them from the top and starts to pull them down and off your feet. Your hands come to your face to try and hide, your legs instinctually closing.

He’s having none of that. His hands are placed on your knees as he slides them over your thighs, chills following the path of his fingertips. He places a gentle pressure, urging you to open them. He’s a little higher than your cunt, kind of resting on your lower belly when he pulls at your hands, making you look at him. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly. One of his hands tangles with yours as he slowly lowers himself to your pussy. He kisses and licks over your smooth, pink lips. His hand that’s holding yours squeezing every now and then when he looks up at you with his dark, lust filled eyes.

His free hand comes down to slip between your folds, and just teases at your opening, almost like he’s playing with the little droplets of slick that are dripping from your core. Your legs open a bit more, shame and shyness steadily creeping away as you yearn for him to make you feel good. You feel him smile and peck your pussy lips before he rests his head on your thigh. He looks at you, doe-eyes filled with mirth.

“Want my fingers, too, pretty girl?” he muses.

You close your eyes as you nod, an exhale stutters from your chest.

“What do you say?” he taunts.

Eyebrows furrowed, and lips pouted, you grumble out a soft, “Please…”

He hums before he slowly sinks his middle finger inside. It feels good right away, his finger is much longer and thicker than your own, reaching that spot inside that you always struggle to reach. Your mouth parts and the softest sigh leaves your lips. His other arm wraps around your thigh, and fingers slide between your folds from the top to spread them so your clit is exposed and ready for his tongue. When he finally tastes you, he moans along with you, before he gets to work.

He wasn’t lying when he said it wouldn’t take long. Carlos’s tongue is skilled. It works fast, flicking quickly over your clit, up and down. It’s constant and wet, and it’s so filthy the way his tongue on your sweet spot makes your pussy just gush all over the finger he has inside of you. 

He sucks gently when his tongue and jaw need a break, little pulses and slurping suctions stimulating you, before he goes right back to lapping at your sensitive little bud, occasionally dipping down to lick at your center, wrapped tight around his finger. 

He pulls your hood back a little more, placing wet kisses to your clit, tongue licking just slightly before his lips wrap around it making you jolt from the direct sensation. 

You’re braced on your arms, looking down at him, watching him make you come apart at the seams. When he adds his ring finger, your head and eyes roll back, and your legs spread even farther, making yourself as open as you can for him. 

“Fuck, I’m already close,” you whine, high pitched and airy. You bring a hand down and brush some of his hair out of his face, and you see him smile a little, smug as he puffs out a soft laugh. His breath is hot on you, as his tongue and lips keep playing with your clit. His fingers speed up too, curling every time they are pushed in, dragging when they pull out. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to make you fall apart.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” he purrs against your cunt.

Your brows are pinched in pleasure and you nod as you watch him. “Yeah, don’t stop, please,” you whisper.

His eyes close as he drowns in you, his face pressed up against you as he licks you from an angle that is so precise and so perfect that your legs start to shake. The hand you have in his hair tightens and you pull, keeping him close as you chant quiet, lewd praises.

“Gonna cum, baby- oh my god-” Your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Right when you’re on the crest of pleasure, Carlos replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can watch you as you cum. He sees the way you’re about to protest at the loss of his mouth before your body tenses and your back arches off of the bench, his fingers toying with you enough to make the rush hit you before you can even complain. 

“Fuck, look at you baby,” he murmurs in awe. 

His eyes are trained on your pussy, the way it clenches and contracts around his fingers. He spreads you as wide as he can so he can have the best view of your pink cunt pulsing, and dripping. His fingers slow on your clit as you start to come down and the fingers inside of you almost pet at your g-spot, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from you. 

Slow is still overwhelming though, when you’ve just cum. It’s not long before your hands are reaching between your legs and gripping at his wrist.

“Too much,” you cry.

He coos, as he removes his fingers. He gently pulls at your inner lips and opens up your puffy little cunt. “She’s still pulsing around nothing…” he says. He sounds dazed, lust drunk. “Did I make you cum that hard, baby?”

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you look down your nose at him. He’s got that effortlessly confident, cocky look on his beautifully, flushed face and you just want to kiss it off. You kick him instead.

“Awe, don’t be mad, I’m only teasing,” he giggles as he settles himself on top of you, resting on your chest. He squeezes your tit good-naturedly. 

“Confidence is only sexy if it’s paired with humility, which you are sorely lacking, my friend.”

“Your special friend,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

You grab his face and angle it towards you and kiss him before you can think too much about it. Before you can think about how it might scare him. The way he tenses in your hold is heart-stopping. Not in a lovesick way, but in the worst gut-wrenching way. You can almost feel the inner battle that he has within himself before he seems to give in.

The soft sigh he moans into your mouth is so sweet, that it’s toothache inducing. The way he lets himself melt into you and the way he becomes pliant in your hold almost feels better than his tongue. With his pliancy in mind, you gingerly sit up, mouths never parting, and he goes easily with you until you’re crowding his space and eventually straddling his lap. The kiss is still soft, saccharine sweet when his hands slip under your skirt. They knead at your cheeks, pulling and squeezing admiring how plush your body is. You’re about to start working your hips over him, but he groans and gets a hold of you before you start going.

“You already made me cum in my pants once, you are not doing it again,” he whisper scolds, while playfully nipping at your bottom lip.

“I thought it was sexy,” you whisper back. You brush your nose against his.

You’ve got your hands working through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. He hums while he pushes into your touch, eyes closing.

“You know what else is sexy?”

You make a soft questioning noise.

“When you walk out of here with no panties on,” his eyes are still closed as he smirks.

You’re jostled quickly and back on the bench instead of his lap. He’s crowding your space and when you look him over, you see your black panties hanging from his finger. You blush.

“Carlos, you better give those back right now,” you whisper.

He quirks an eyebrow. Then he leans in and coos into your ear, “Don’t you think it would be more fun to think about what I’m gonna do with them? How I might be planning on wrapping them around my cock the next time I touch myself? How I might be planning to cum all over them?” 

It’s audible when you swallow down the desire crawling up your throat. You raise to your feet and head for the door.

“You should tie your sweater around your waist, your boner is distracting and indecent,” you say with a quick backward glance. 

Carlos pockets your panties, and laughs before taking your advice and catching up with you. 

~~~~

winter

“When I think of you, I think of the color pink.”

 It’s cold outside, but the apartment is warm. So is the bed. So is the body laying next him. Warm.

Carlos doesn’t stay the night very often.

He is tonight though. His head is on your chest and his fingertips are lazily running over your bare skin leaving little chills trailing behind. Your hand is in his hair. It’s getting long now, and it’s still soft, easy for you to run your fingers through, despite being bleached a week or so ago. You went with him to the appointment. 

Carlos laughs a little. “That’s funny because I also think of the color pink when I think of you.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but he can tell you’re smiling, close to giggling when you respond, “Really? Why?”

He hums and looks up at you. You look back with that look of adoration that you always have when gazing at him. His chest constricts, it’s hard to breathe when he’s with you sometimes. 

“Because of how pretty, and pink your pu-”

You push your hand in his face with a laugh and try to roll away from him. “God, shut up! You’re so crass.”

You don’t get far before he’s got his hold on you. His big hands wrapping around your tiny bones. He manhandles you until you’re properly under him, hands pinned and bottom half weighed down by him straddling you. 

“That’s not what you were saying a couple of hours ago, was it baby?” he taunts. “What was it you said? ‘Yeah, baby… your cock feels so good, please cum inside me, fill me up.’ right?” he says, making his voice breathy and high pitched, mocking you. 

He presses into your cheek, nips at your ear as he teases, basking in the way that your cheeks blush red, incandescent. Warm, just like the apartment, like the bed. Like the whole of your body underneath him. 

You’re there often, under him. Sometimes on top of him, next to him, in front of him. He kisses you, chaste yet thorough, and you keen, hands fighting against his hold like you want to touch.

Again, he relishes in your reaction. He relishes in everything about you, everything you do, all of the time. The way that you’re witty and sarcastic when you’re out and about. The way you constantly talk about things as if you’re painting a picture with your words, carefully choosing each syllable. 

Versus the way you get when you’re just with him. Sometimes still witty, a visionary, but mostly shy, sweet, and like the most delicate flower in his destructive hands. He tries to be gentle with you, he really does. But he’s a creature of habit; and he has a habit of being rough, a habit of hurting and ruining pretty things. He hates that about himself. But it’s almost subconscious, he never realizes he’s doing it, ruining it, until it’s too late.

But he’s been transparent with you. It’s not his fault that you always seek him out, and it’s not his fault that you’re the sun, always there in a sense, in his mind. It’s not his fault that he’s grown to crave your comfort, your presence. Even at night when you’re not physically with him and the sun has set but his bed still has lingering warmth on the side that’s not his; even then, you’re still there in the recesses of his mind, just like the sun is still in the sky even if it can’t be seen, even if the moon has taken its place for the night. Or a star, as you would say. It’s not his fault.

His hands release yours, and one comes up to your cheek, thumb rubbing over the apple. Your hand comes down and holds at his inked wrist as your lashes flutter. His eyes scan the entirety of your face before a lopsided grin starts to form on his lips. He tilts his head a little. 

“And why do you think of pink?” Carlos asks.

He watches as you flush even darker, the smallest scowl falling over your features, a little wrinkle forming between your brows. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at you.

“You think I’m gonna tell you now?” you spout.

He doesn’t give in, knowing you just want to bicker. He knows you do that, pick fights, just because you want attention, just want him focused on you. You’d never admit to being the bratty type, but he knows you well. In that sense at least. Instead he hums, pecks your nose. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, I just like that you’re thinking about me.”

“Do you think about me too?”

Sometimes you scare him. When you ask him questions like that. In that soft, sweet, hopeful tone. When you give him those tender looks and touch him with hands that are too gentle for someone like him, like you think he’s the one that might break between the two of you. 

“Too much,” he murmurs honestly.

You smile and you look like you’re going to say something, but Carlos’s quick to change the subject.

“You should let me tattoo you.”

“No way!” you say instantly, swatting at his chest. He shifts and rests most of his weight on you, buries his face into your skin. You smell like your body wash, along with a little bit of him. Vanilla and Chili.

“Why not? Do you doubt my craft?” he teases, mock offense lacing his tone.

“Maybe if you actually went to your apprenticeship every once in a while, instead of skipping to go to those lame parties, I wouldn’t,” you tease back.

He snorts. “Jokes on you, I skipped it tonight to hang out with your lame ass.”

You smack him gently again. “Carlos!���

You’re giggling freely, body shaking underneath him and he can’t help but grin at the sound. “Maybe if you let me work on you, I would be more motivated to practice.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes crinkled as you try to suppress your laughter. “Fine, but only if you let me tattoo you too.”

He knows you think that will deter him, but still, he doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal, baby.”

You laugh at him again, loud and overly bright for a few moments until you realize that he’s not laughing with you. The way your face settles into a confused pout finally breaks Carlos’s straight face and makes him chuckle. Your brows are pinched and your eyes are wide.

“Y-you’re not serious…” your incredulous laugh putters out. “Are you?”

“Of course I’m serious.”

And he is. Carlos doesn’t know why he is, or why he wants it so badly now that he’s put the idea out there. It was a joke at first, just something to fill the air, to interrupt you before you could say something scary again. But he does. Maybe it’s masochistic. Maybe he just wants something that will remind him of you when whatever it is that’s between you two inevitably ends. Because he knows even the brightest of flames burn out eventually. 

Or perhaps it’s a sadistic desire. Perhaps he wants to be inked into your skin, somewhere secret, so that the next time someone sees you in the same way that he’s seeing you now, they will ask about it, and consequently remind you of him. You’ll still think about him, even when others are with you, trying to hold your attention. Even when you’re trying to forget him. 

“Matching ones?” you whisper.

He nods. “Yeah, friendship tattoos.”

Carlos doesn’t miss the way your face falls for the briefest of moments, how your lips part and the softest, tiniest, dejected sigh leaves your lips, before he quickly kisses away the disappointment. It’s bitter on his tongue.

“Special friendship tattoos,” he amends. Another light kiss. He wonders if it tastes like gasoline to you too. The shadow’s from the candle on your nightstand dance across your skin. Best to be careful with gasoline kisses next to an open flame. “We can get stars.”

You’re quiet for a moment, mouth dropping down in a pensive frown. “It has to be small. And somewhere where no one can see it on me.”

He smiles big, and his heart skips a devastating beat when he sees how you instinctively smile back. “Don’t worry, I plan on putting it somewhere very private,” he purrs.

“You are not tattooing my pussy or my ass, baby.”

“Not there!” he laughs, “I meant like by your tit or something.” 

Carlos starts to kiss down your body, he’s always kissing you when you’re together. He stops in the center of your chest on your sternum.

“We could do it here,” a wet kiss just to the side of your heart. He can feel it, how it speeds up because of his mouth, his hands, him. He travels a little lower.

At your ribs, just under the curve of your breast, he stops again. “Or here.” Another kiss where his tongue tastes you before his lips even touch. 

He makes it to your belly button, just about to move to your hip before you speak up.

“I liked it there, on my ribs,” you say, voice a little wispy, higher pitched than normal. He notes that your chest is rising and falling just a bit faster than before.

“I’m not finished yet,” he says, looking up at you through his bangs and his lashes, trying to go for stern, but the humor in his voice gives him away.  

Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you try and silence your laughter. 

Carlos places a kiss here, a kiss there all over your silken skin. Little kiss marks shine when the candlelight hits them just right. He bites every now and then too, unable to control himself when he gets to the softest part of your lower belly, and the inside of your thighs. He even kisses Jiji on your ankle. He’s gripping your foot and you wiggle your toes in his hold

“Is Kiki your favorite?” He asks distractedly, lips still playing on your skin, he’s starting to make his way back up now.

“Spirited Away,” you correct softly, on a giggle as Carlos hikes your legs up around his waist. You wrap your arms around his back, and he shivers when you run your nails over his shoulder blades, goosebumps making a short appearance. When he rolls his hips into your pussy, you gasp. He inhales it, breathing in your pleasure. It makes him throb, hard and hot against you. “I’m still wet inside from earlier,” you whisper.

He groans into the kiss he brandishes your lips with. He ruts harder into you, bringing a hand down between your bodies, and gripping the base of his cock so that he can rub the tip against your clit. He feels how wet you are, with your slick as well as his cum from just a little bit ago. He tsks, scolds you playfully. “I know, I can feel it. So messy.” He’s smiling when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your eyes are fluttering when you ask, “What’s your favorite?”

Carlos’s distracted, of course he is. How could he not be when you’re mewling underneath him, squirming from the tip of his cock swirling around your clit? He humors you. “Howl’s Moving Castle,” he says as he pushes the head in before hissing and pulling back out. He does it a few times, teasing himself with your cunt.

When you laugh, it catches him off guard. Enough to make him pause and look up at you with a dumb smile on his face, just grinning because he somehow made you laugh, and the sound of it is nice.

“That would be your favorite.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spits into his hand, slicks himself up, rubs a little on your pussy.

“You’re just-” You gasp when his fingertips graze your clit. He gasps when you spread your legs wider for him, sweet and eager, just like always. “You’re just like him. Charming, confident…”

“Go on,” he grins into your neck, sucking a little bruise. You tilt your head so he can reach better.

“Vain…”

“Slow down.”

You giggle. “Stealing hearts and eating them.”

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. He braces some of his weight on your thigh, tests your flexibility as he hovers over you, lips brushing yours lightly, teasing. He gives in when you crane your neck to reach him. “I haven’t eaten yours, have I?” He muses.

Your hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, not yet.” 

You pause and look at him with one of those soft, terrifying looks. He knows you don’t even realize how scary it is, when you look at him like that.

“Maybe I’ll be the one to steal your heart, hmm?” your head tilts, and you smile at him faint and cute. It’s meant to be playful, but Carlos can already feel his heart clawing its way up his throat. “You who swallowed a falling star, o’ heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine,” you quote, tease, with a giggle.

Carlos goes rigid on top of you. His heart is beating fast in his chest, loud in his ears. He kisses you, hard. Bruising like the first time. Hopefully you take it as eagerness. 

“Stop talking,” he whispers, begs against your lips. 

When he slides into you, he can’t help but wonder if you remember that that was the curse the wicked witch placed on Howl to trap him.

~~~~~~~~~~

part 2 will be posted soon so dont forget to repost and like if u enjoyed pt 1 !!!!

[m3ntal-hiatus]

JJK AND THEIR COFFEE ORDERS

sk8 the infinity ver. here !

nobara is definitely a frappuccino girly. love, love, loves sugar cookie flavouring, too, in a large cup with a straw because “it feels like i’m a girlboss that way.” she said it, not me.

yuuji is pretty picky with his coffee? isn’t a huge fan of it, but when he does have it, it’s a double-double accompanied by a pastry. he doesn’t adventure too far from his usual order, other than trying out a new or seasonal drink.

megumi drinks it black. straight from the beans. foul creature.

geto gives hazelnut syrup vibes… don’t worry, i will elaborate. he likes an espresso shot with latte foam art and steamed oat milk, all mixed together with two pumps of hazelnut syrup. otherwise, he’s mostly a tea person.

gojo doesn’t even want to taste the coffee’s bitter flavour… he wants it completely masked by sugar and by sugar alone. four-milk-six-sugar-in-a-medium sort of man. drinking straight candy, is what it is.

nanami was a religious coffee drinker back when he worked that 9-5, so he was not particularly partial to any coffee order if the caffeine was doing its job. as long as it didn’t taste like burnt shit water, he doesn’t care all too much. enjoys a nice café trip where he can sit and relax every now and then.

maki is a cold brew enthusiast, but also drinks it black (as in, no milk), though takes a few vanilla shots with it and another sweetener. likes the essence of the coffee taste, but mostly prefers sweetness over the bitterness.

inumaki is an avid iced coffee fan to the point where sub-arctic conditions do not daunt him. he usually rotates his order from an iced psl or mocha with maki or yuuta to order for him (for obvious reasons). he’ll down whatever size they give him. insanity.

yuuta reacts so poorly to caffeine, it’s hilarious in hindsight but i can’t help but pity him… poor boy is already anxious enough as it is, he can’t tell the difference between the coffee jitters and his usual shakiness. plus, he gets the shits. doesn’t like it, but will have one the rare occasion.

panda doesn’t drink coffee. he’s a panda.

mahito would spit it out immediately along with a vile string of profanities if he ever got the chance to even try coffee.

kenjaku (using geto) hated the idea that he was getting used to drinking something so gently-flavored and sweet. had it anyways, but would always order tea if given the choice.

[jpitha]

Same as it ever was

"Ugh, this coffee is awful!" Daniel makes a face after he takes a sip. "What is this, hazelnut? Did the person who signed off on this flavor ever try a hazelnut in their life?"

"Come on Dan, it can't be that bad." M'erian rolled her eyes and flicked her ears.

Dan sipped it again and winced. "No, seriously Mer, if you could drink coffee I'd have you try this. It's impressively bad."

"Is that why you keep drinking it? Out of some sense of admiration for someone who could make coffee that bad?"

Dan shrugged. "It's still caffeine. There isn't anything else onboard until we reach a Starbase and resupply. Maybe some creamer will help." Dan gets up and bustles in the kitchenette. A moment later, his coffee noticeably more buff colored, Dan returns to the seat. He sips again and frowns, but is no longer wincing. "That will have to do."

M'erian sipped her tea and enjoyed her time listening to Dan complain. He did it often enough that she was thankful she found it charming instead of annoying.

While they were chatting, Uumer walked in. They were a Sefigan, from this universe, and Daniel was still surprised when he saw them. He could only describe them as looking kind of like teddy bears.

Teddy bears with retractable ten centimeter claws. They were lacquered a deep blue and highly polished.

“You are making a gesture Daniel, I recognize it from the humans in our world. What is wrong?”

“It’s his coffee” M’erian gestures “It tastes terrible.”

Uumer’s ears twitched. “Oh? You can consume caffeine? It is highly toxic for us.”

M’erian shakes her head, a human gesture. “No, but Daniel was telling me about it. It’s ‘hazelnut’ and he doesn’t like it.”

“No, it’s called hazelnut. It tastes nothing like actual hazelnuts. I think you can consume them M’erian, I’ll see if I can get some next time we’re at a station.”

"Daniel, I apologize for the quality of the coffee, it was ordered by Captain Reynolds." Universal Solvent sounded apologetic. Captain Reynolds was the previous captain on Solvent. For this trip, it was just Daniel ,M’erian, Uumer, a few more Coalition races and Solvent themselves.

Daniel made another face. “Did he like this? Or was he just trying to punish his crew?”

“I seem to recall him saying it was his favorite. I also seem to recall that most of the other human crew members brought their own coffee with them.” A tone sounded throughout the ship. “Daniel, M’erian, Uumer. I must ask you to retire to your acceleration couches on the Command Deck. I am alerting the rest of the crew as well. Maneuvers will being in one hour.”

Sighing, Daniel finished his terrible coffee, and takes the time to rinse out the cup and secure it in the cabinet. They make their way through the empty ship.

Universal Solvent is a Starjumper, one of the largest human built ships in space. Only the dozen or so colony ships built for humanity to spread out in space were larger. One of the reasons it’s so large is that their design predates the development of wormhole generators. They were originally designed to ‘jump’ between the stars at half the speed of light with passengers in hibernation and enough cargo to make the trip worthwhile. These days they all have wormhole generators installed and can link from location to location like any other craft, but they’re still seen as high status spacecraft.

And sometimes they’re the only ones that can do the job.

Like, for example, if one wanted to demonstrate a relativistic impactor to the Gren. Daniel was surprised to learn that the humans in this universe developed their version of the wormhole generator - called a Flip Drive - before they ever needed to develop relativistic flight. They don’t have Starjumpers and never needed to accelerate towards the speed of light.

After the Gren came through the Gate, they fought the humans and K’laxi on that side to a standstill. The truce was tenuous and it was decided that a demonstration was needed to remind the Gren - and the Coalition - what the humans from Daniel’s dimension could do.

Daniel thought it was all a little bit dramatic and overblown, but at least they were just going to strike a planetoid in the Gren’s system. Long range scans had indicated that it was dark and cold and wasn’t a secret base or anything. Just a large rock.

As Daniel was secured in his acceleration couch, he connected to Solvent and made sure everyone else was secure. Solvent had inertial compensators, but at the speeds they were going, even a slight error in compensation would cause damage or death to anyone outside the safety of the couch. It was a bit of work to get the Sefigans and other Coalition species to interface with the couches, but humanity’s experience with the K’laxi helped.

“Daniel, everyone is in their chairs and secure. We can begin when ready.”

Connected to Solvent, Daniel was able to look through their sensors. They were currently boosting at 2gee and running at around 75% C. “Okay Solvent. We’re going to do to links back to back, so we’ll need War Emergency Power. Do you want me to say the phrase?”

“Only if you want to Daniel. I know how to work my own reactors.”

Daniel chuckled. In the old days, Captains would order the ship AI to release War Emergency Power, which would disable all fuses and limiters to the reactors. This would give the ships a tremendous amount of power for a short amount of time. It also increased the risks of the reactors destroying themselves. These days, relations with AIs are better, and most commanders know that the ships know themselves better than the commanders do. Ordering the release of War Emergency Power is seen as a bit old fashioned. “I’m good Universal Solvent. Please use your own discretion vis a vis power.”

“Aye Daniel. I will be releasing War Emergency Power for the duration of the exercise.”

At that, Daniel could feel, rather than hear the reactors. There was this noise or feeling that set his teeth on edge. It rose in tone and intensity until it almost sounded like a whistle at the edge of hearing. Uumer reached out over the ship’s comm channel “What is that noise? Is something broken?”

“Nothing to worry about Uumer, I have removed the fuses and limiters from my reactors. I need the additional power for our maneuvers.”

“You can do that?”

“Oh yes, but the risk of critical catastrophic failure is much higher now. Once we’re done, I’ll take things back to normal.”

Uumer didn’t say anything, but Daniel could feel how impressed he was.

“Daniel, we will link in 10 seconds.”

“Thanks Solvent. Once we’re back in real space, release our impactors and drop camera beacons. We’ll then link back and begin braking.”

“Aye. 5 seconds.”

They Linked.

One of the things that humans of this dimension don’t like to mention is that while their wormhole generator is considered to be much more accurate and robust than a Flip drive, it does require quite a bit more power and also has this… side effect.

About one in one thousand people who use the drive experience something like death while they’re in between points of reality.

Humanity on this side has been dealing with it for nearly a millennium and by now is mostly used to it. Sure, it frightens folks when it first happens, but like they say, you’d be surprised what you can get used to.

In fact, it’s so commonplace that they often forget to tell people that it happens.

Uumer is on his back. He feels the warm grass and bright sun. Blinking he sits up. It looks like… home. More than that, it looks like his homeworld, or at least the descriptions of it that he’s read. He’s never been there. He’s on a wide savanna. In all directions is a sea of golden grass. As he stands, a breeze picks up and the grass undulates and moves like water. Someone approaches. Another Sefigan. “You made it!” They throw their arms forward and tumble towards him in greeting. Bewildered, but happy to see someone like him, he reciprocates the gesture, a traditional greeting. “Thank you brother, but where am i?”

The other Sefigan’s ears waggle. “Brother, you are dead.”

Uumer comes back, strapped into his acceleration couch. He blinks back tears. In the moment he’s struck by a thought. The humans keep their eyes clean this way too, they also cry. “D-Daniel.” Uumer’s voice is unsteady. “What happened?”

“Uh, we linked into Gren space Uumer. We just released the camera beacons and the impactors. We’re going to link away in a second. Can your question wait?”

“Yes.”

They link away.

When they’re back in human controlled space, Solvent begins the long deceleration process. It’ll take another month to slow back down relative to their departure and be able to link to another starbase. The camera beacons caught the demonstration perfectly. The three impactors struck the planetoid at 75% C and completely obliterated it. Supposedly the flash was seen with unaided eyes by the Green Fleet Command themselves. Publicly, they declared it an unwarranted provocation. Daniel will have to wait until they’ve come to a halt and linked home to learn what - if anything - they said privately about it.

After all the excitement calms down, Uumer goes to find Daniel. He’s back with M’erian in the lounge and they’re snuggled together watching something on his pad. “Uh, Daniel?”

Daniel looks up with a start. “Oh! Hi Uumer, what did you think of the run?”

“I uh, had a question about that actually. You know that was my first link ever?”

“Oh that’s right, you would have Flipped or FlashWarped over to the starbase.” His eyes go wide. “Oh no, did you…”

“I did Daniel. Did I actually die?” Uumer’s claws are sliding in and out of their sheaths.

“Uh well, nobody really knows. It happens to us too, and the K’laxi-“ He starts idly stroking M’erian. “-but our philosophers can’t come to an agreement about whether it’s real or not.”

“Does it happen to you?”

“No, fortunately. It’s only about one in one thousand that it happens to.”

Uumer is shaking slightly, “and you’re okay with that? With a small percentage of people dying when you use the wormhole generator?”

“Uumer. For one, they all come back. For two, most report that other than the surprise, it was a pleasant experience. And for three, we’re not about to give up on a way to shrink the distance between the stars over something like that. It’s fine.”

“Uumer, it’s a scary thing. Some people in my familiar group experience it too. But really, it’s normal here. Everyone gets used to it, and if they don’t then…” M’erian’s ears flick. “They make other arrangements. They either stick to worlds they can reach via Gate, or stay in one system, or hibernate for the trip. There are options. Especially now that you and the Coalition is here. We can see if we can work out FlashWarp technology, or build our own Flip drives.”

Uumer looks at both of them. How comfortable they look. How much they enjoy being together. He’s overcome with a flash of jealousy and disgust. His ears droop. “I thought I understood humans and that over here they’d be the same as over there. I’m beginning to wonder about that.” He turns and leaves the lounge.

M’erian and Daniel share a look. He shrugs and smiles and flicks her ears and they go back to their video.