#i really love how all my ocs have either dark hair or dark or brown eyes

[loviatarsluv]

Would That I

"It's not tonight

Where I'm set alight

And I blink in sight

of your blinding light"

(all credits to the op of this gif!!!!!)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: mature (mostly pretty tame, but gets a little spicy toward the end ;) )

CW: yearning and pining, mentions of family member death, an interrupted bath, gale being precious, tara being equally as precious, and last but not least, (m) masturbation (HEHEHE)

in summary: Elara has been sent to stay with Gale of Waterdeep whilst her uncle is gone, and becomes his assistant/apprentice of sorts, and in the meanwhile is crushing on him so hard that she can barely even stand being around him. (real asf honestly) little does she know, he is equally as besotted just slightly better at hiding it (or maybe she's just clueless) and ends up having to let out his feelings somehow … ;)

a/n: I've been wanting to write a sweet romantic gale fic that did not take place during the canon of the game and let gale have tara with him and be in waterdeep and all the other things he deserves so here it is!!! this will definitely be an ongoing series, i'm not sure how long but i love a good slow burn so we'll see :)

word count: 8.2k (I know this one's a long one buckle in besties)

She’s always loved the color brown. 

It was easily one of the most overlooked colors— one we so easily take for granted. Yet, some of the most lovely things in life appear in the warmest shades of brown. 

A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than any one person ever had, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near her home in Waterdeep— well, someone else’s home that she just so happened to occupy space in. 

She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in her boss’ office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook. Occasionally her boss’ tressym companion, Tara,  joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely. 

The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the hair on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought. 

And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well despite not knowing her for very long, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— none had ever really seen her. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. 

No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really. Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he’d asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows and beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body. 

Not often. Not really. 

She’d begun working for him (he loathed referring to what she did for him as working for him, and preferred words like ‘assist’ or ‘help’, he always said it made him sound like a tyrant) just around six months ago, him having taken her in somewhat as a favor to her uncle Alastor, who had been good friends with him for quite some time. She was never sure how their friendship came to be, but she never really asked. They were a strange pair in her opinion, her uncle being significantly older than Gale, who seemed to be somewhere around his early to mid thirties, based on her estimations. She was closer in age to Gale than Gale was to her uncle. 

Alastor essentially raised her, as her parents passed just before the nearing of her fifth birthday. He took her in with open arms, naturally— but in truth, she always knew that he’d never planned or intended to cater his life to caring for and raising a child. He was a rather adventurous and solitary wizard, and before he’d taken her in, he had been to the furthest edge of the Sword Coast and back several times over, even explored the vast expanse of the Underdark a handful of times. He told the best bedtime stories. 

As she got older, over time she noticed him get… strange. He was already a strange and rather eccentric man, but as the years passed he almost seemed to become a different person entirely. Still kind, still the same fun loving and gentle man he’d always been, just… lost, almost. He always seemed as if he were meant to be somewhere else, and had just taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up where he was. Like the clock was ticking and he was on track to be late for something, but she could never figure out what for. And in the months leading up to him sending her off to Waterdeep, he almost seemed to retreat into himself entirely, rarely leaving his chaotic and disordered sty of a study that she would often offer to clean and organize for him, only for him to wave her off and tell her not to worry. 

She always worried. How could she not? He was the only living family she had left. He was the only true friend she had in the world. 

On one particular night, the night he sent for Gale to come over under the guise of a friendly dinner, he seemed unusually ordinary. Normal. Almost as if he were his old self again. If it didn’t scare her so much, she would’ve been overjoyed to see the still eccentric, but wise and happy man that raised her once again. 

That was the first time she had ever truly met Gale Dekarios. 

She had seen him a handful of times before in passing, as her and her uncle would run into him at the infamous Sorcerous Sundries— but the two of them had never exchanged a word. He would offer both of them a bright and friendly smile, and she would return it in kind. 

Her eyes would follow him as he walked away, trailing behind him as if she were trapped under a spell, her neck craning and watching him over her shoulder as he would disappear into the crowded city streets of Baldur’s Gate. Her uncle would tease her, jabbing his elbow into her side and wiggling his eyebrows. She would smack his arm and try desperately to hide the furious crimson blush in her cheeks, waving him off and dismissing his teasing. But he knew. Anyone who could’ve seen the look on her face when Gale Dekarios was around would know. 

This was the night wherein she officially met him— the first time she ever heard her own name repeated back to her as she introduced herself, as if he were trying to memorize it and memorize her along with it. The way her name sounded so much more beautiful in his voice and the way his lips wrapped around every syllable as he said it. The first time she saw those eyes— those damn eyes— and they saw her back. 

She hoped that he didn’t find her terribly rude after the fourth time she had to excuse herself to run upstairs and calm herself and the incessant fluttering in her chest and stomach as she spoke to him. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush all over again. Pathetic. Besotted. 

By the time she came back downstairs, she caught the tail end of the two men’s conversation, ducking behind a wall and eavesdropping. 

“You would be doing not only me a great kindness but also my dear Elara. I fear you may be her safest bet, for the time being.” She overhears Alastor say, his voice low as if he were attempting to whisper, but still loud enough to where she could hear him as clearly as if he were right in front of her. 

“I understand. She is more than welcome to come to my tower in Waterdeep— though, forgive me for not asking before, but is she aware of this arrangement?” Gale asks, concern still evident even in his hushed tone. 

There’s that fluttering again. 

Her uncle sighs heavily, releasing all of the air from his lungs and pausing for a moment in shameful silence before continuing. She assumed he shook his head before speaking. “I knew that if I proposed this to her, she would have said no. I have it in good authority that she may perhaps be very unhappy with me when she learns of this.” 

Anger was not the emotion she was feeling, far from it. Concern, perhaps. Confusion? Definitely. Anxiety? Without a doubt. 

Her head was spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was hearing— why was her uncle concerned for her safety? And why was Gale Dekarios the one who could ensure it? 

Before another word could be exchanged between the two men, she emerged from her hiding spot, her shoulders hung low and her movements slow as if she were trying to avoid landmines from going off under the weight of her feet. Their heads snap up in her direction, and immediately they catch on. Gale gives her a sympathetic look that she immediately has to avert her gaze from. Alastor bears the look of someone regretful, but not entirely. Hopeful, almost. 

“Elara,” He breathes. “Assuming you heard most, if not all, of our conversation, what are your thoughts?” The older man sitting at the far end of the dinner table asks, his tone simply inquisitive, versus that of someone who just got caught trying to pull a fast one. 

None, really. None that she could express eloquently or with any sort of grace and dignity, at least. 

“Where are you going?” She asks, her voice emotionless and calm in spite of the storm of emotion brewing within. 

Alastor gives her a pleading look, as if he was begging her not to ask a million questions like he knew she likely planned to. Only because he knew he had no answers that he could freely offer her that would suffice in easing your mind. 

“It won’t be for too terribly long. Though, in the meantime, perhaps Mr. Dekarios could pick up on your old man’s slack and actually teach you some damn magic.” The older man jokes, receiving no laughter in response. 

She and Gale exchange a glance, almost as if they were surveying each other. He seemed to be studying her facial expressions and attempting to gauge her feelings on this whole situation, and basing his responses on her. It made her cheeks burn so hot she feared that she may break into a sweat. 

She had heard of his magical prowess and acclaim in the wizarding world through the overheard hushed conversations of fellow wizards gossiping about him while she browsed Sorcerous Sundries. She had no doubt at all that he would be an excellent teacher— he just seemed like he would, even based on her limited interactions with him. So that was not something she was even slightly opposed to— if anything, it sparked a buried and long forgotten childish excitement in her. 

She’d been wanting to learn or study the arcane arts for years, but for some reason her uncle Alastor always had an excuse against it. She picked up on small things and simple incantations that helped her tidy the house better or even minor illusions just for her own entertainment, but she always wanted to learn more. 

That was far from being her main concern, her main concern being oh gods, how in the nine hells am I supposed to live with a man that I can’t even bare to be in the same room with for too long before needing to leave and calm myself so I don’t appear like a love stricken puppy under his gaze? 

Aside from that, her concern for her uncle had begun to set in as she really digested what was being proposed and why it seemed to be getting thrust upon her— where on all of Faerun could he be going that he couldn’t take her with him? That he didn’t want to take her with him? She had never adventured with him before, he never allowed it— but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to or begged him to let her go with him just once. He said no, obviously. Every time. It never stopped her from trying, though. 

She knew her uncle well enough to know that whatever it was had to be quite important, if he were sending her off like this. She trusted him, more than anyone in the world. So who was she to argue? 

“Are you okay? With all of this?” Gale asked her, standing and crossing the room, approaching her tentatively but not coming too close. 

Okay was ill fitting to describe her feelings toward this situation, but there really wasn’t another word to replace it with. So she just nodded, not offering any more explanation as she was petrified of anything that might come out of her mouth at that moment. 

Gale continued to watch her, as if he were waiting for her to do something— burst into tears, shout, curse them both out, anything— only for her to stay planted in the spot she stood in the middle of what would only be her home for a handful of days more. The only home she ever truly knew. 

Gale and Alastor continued to discuss the details while she began tidying the mess that had made of the kitchen by the tornado of a man in the other room, and zoned out as she scrubbed the same spot on one of the dishes for what felt like hours, only returning to reality when she felt a warm and ridiculously soft hand very gently take the plate from hers. Her eyes shot up to meet his, his body dangerously close to her as he offered her a friendly smile. 

“Allow me. You should probably rest up as much as you can. You know— before the big move.” He offers, somehow managing to mash gentlemanliness and awkwardness together into one terribly endearing sentence. 

Gods, this is going to be rough. 

She stared up at him through round eyes, just now noticing the significant height difference between the two of them now that he was as close to her as he was. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of things she needed to not think about if she wanted to preserve the last few crumbles of her own sanity. 

She steps aside after a moment, not uttering a word to him but giving her best attempt at a thankful smile, then runs upstairs to her room and flops onto the comforts of her bed for what was one of the final times she would be able to for gods know how long. She savored the last few nights in the room that she’d spent her most formative years in. The room she dreamt in, cried in, discovered herself in, and fostered memories that she would eventually have to say goodbye to. 

Then the day she was set to leave finally came, but she didn’t feel as melancholy as she expected to feel. She’d spent the prior few days drowning in her own nostalgia as she visited every forgotten corner of her childhood home, rifling through her old toys and relics from before her parents passed, making sure to set aside the most sentimental things so that she could take them along with her. She shed a few tears here and there, but mostly she felt a selfish twinge of relief. 

As much as she loved her uncle, she had been craving a change in her life for so long now that she had made peace with eventually leaving long before Alastor had even considered sending her off with a man that was a complete stranger to her. 

But something about that added to the excitement— she was truly being thrown into the unknown head first. An unfamiliar city, an unfamiliar home, and an unfamiliar person that undoubtedly had a whole wealth of knowledge and stories to share with her. It was a lot of change, but she welcomed it eagerly. 

Though, eager as she was to leave, saying goodbye to her uncle proved to be a lot harder than anything else. 

She hugged him for as long as he would allow her to, clinging on to him and shoving her face into his worn out old robes and savoring the scent that she’d always associate with comfort— tobacco, sage, and a hint of his favorite wine— leaving behind a few small wet spots from the tears that she silently shed. He kissed the top of her head and placed his hands encouragingly on her shoulders, and gave her an affirmative nod. He had never been good with words when it came to expressing affection, but she didn’t feel like she needed it. He showed his care for her in so many other ways that words just seemed unnecessary. 

To be cared for is to be seen. To be loved is to be known. 

She wished him luck on his quest, whatever that may be, then disappeared into the portal that would take her straight to her new home. 

That day almost feels like a lifetime ago. Uncle Alastor checks in every once in a while, sending both her and Gale individual letters. She wants so badly to know what he had to say that was so different to Gale than what he says to her, or rather what he wants him to know and her to not—but she never lets curiosity get the best of her, regardless. 

The one he sent today was unusually brief and simple, assuring her that he was doing well and that he hoped to come by to visit sometime soon— as he’d been saying for months and had still yet to do so. 

She watched Gale read his as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses sat just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders. 

She lounged in her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was. 

“I wonder how many more times he’ll promise to visit before he actually does,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing your uncle, he’s probably already forgotten he’d ever mentioned it by the time the letters made it to us.” 

She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the top of the backing of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.” 

Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in. She tried her best not to interrupt him or disturb him, just simply existed near him in the event he were to need her help or wanted to rant to someone about whatever was occupying his excellent mind. 

She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the large room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set. The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts with the wind and fills her senses. She closes her eyes and indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away, nervousness rumbling in her gut as she squirms under his intense gaze. 

“Would you like to go for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, causing her to nearly topple over and fall out of the open window. Great. 

Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance. 

“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “That’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I’m starting to consider casting an arcane lock or an invisible shield on the damned thing.” 

Her stomach is doing flips and somersaults as she replays the words he’d said in her head a million times over, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but for an entirely different reason. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.” 

He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered.” 

He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration. 

A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His very slightly aged and weathered skin is bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset. She takes a moment to realize he’s much younger than he appears— she wonders if stress has aged him and caused his graying hair, and what could have stressed him so terribly that it physically affected him. 

“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back. 

She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with Gale of Waterdeep was nearly too much for her heart to bear. She fiddles with the bottom hem of the blouse she was wearing, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon. 

Say yes. Say yes! 

“U-um, I’m actually not f-feeling very well… I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself. 

Stupid, stupid. 

Gale nods, but is unable to completely hide his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his expressive eyes. Her heart nearly breaks at the way his brown irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back? 

“Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side. 

Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this much? You’d think after living under his roof for half a year and getting to know him that these feelings would have subsided or dulled themselves by now— but if anything, the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge that gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knot never loosens. 

But she had already accepted that such a thought was silly and childish— her juvenile crush on him would eventually subside and she would forget all about it, like it was never there to begin with. So for now, all she could do was endure. 

“I’m fine, really. I think I just… maybe I just need a nice relaxing bath, or something.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine. 

An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods. 

“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

She can’t hold back the nearly giddy smile that teases the corners of her mouth. He is so sweet. So genuine. 

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries. 

She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user. Perfect. 

She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large bathroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this bathroom was no exception. The room was cozy, draped in various deep purple curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem. There were robes hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She wonders what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, picturing him perhaps trying out a new spell and it backfiring on him. She smiles and chuckles quietly to herself. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes, and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water. 

She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally truly rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever— 

No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.

The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it. 

The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself. 

The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus. 

Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.

She takes her time scrubbing each inch of her body, savoring this moment of pure bliss and wondering why she’d never enjoyed baths as much prior to this one. By the time she’s done, she dreads abandoning the comforts of the marble tub, but due to her fingertips pruning she knows that she’d probably been in there longer than she needed to be, and Gale was surely done cooking dinner by now. 

She begins to stand, the water and whatever remaining suds rinsing off of her and splashing loudly as she does, which you’d think would have been enough of an audio cue that she was still occupying the bathroom and prevent Gale from bursting into the bathroom, much to both of their horror.

She lets out a startled shriek and attempts to maintain her modesty by covering herself with her hands, which barely achieved anything. Gale quickly shields his eyes with his own hand, stammering and stuttering incoherent apologies and curses.

“I— I thought—  your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were in there— forgive me! I just—  um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding. 

Her heart pounds in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. If she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first. 

She stands there, frozen in place for far too long before she realizes that she was very much still naked and drenched as a shiver rakes down her spine and her teeth start to chatter. 

Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is. 

She wraps one of the towels she brought around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom. 

Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs. 

Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected him (unintentionally, mind you), and he’d seen her bare naked body. After half a year of living together and nothing strange ever occurring between them aside from occasional extended loaded eye contact and a smile that felt like it bore hidden intent here and there that she brushed off and assumed it was just a glimmer of hope clouding her judgment. 

Accidents happen though, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the bathroom at the exact moment her entire naked body was visible from the doorway. Things happen. It’s fine. 

She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.

She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try. 

Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her before eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable and join him downstairs.

She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always sat in, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to shrink and disappear. 

She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello’ that sounds more like a groan. 

“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”

Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”

“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.

“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.” 

“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again. 

He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”

Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly. 

“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate. 

She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara. 

“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face. 

She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would. 

“I’d love to.”

She pulls out the chair and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale. 

“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.

They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry. 

The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave. 

I hope you’re right. 

He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay. 

The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room. 

Gale’s voice is the one that breaks the silence. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.” 

She waves him off, keeping her gaze focused on her plate. “Things happen.” 

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.” 

Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs. 

“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. 

Gods, why is he so damn considerate? 

“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?” 

What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance. 

“I… I’m just feeling a little tired today.” 

He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.

“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something bothering you, just say the word and I’ll do what I can to help.” 

Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping. 

“Thank you, Mr. Dek— I mean— Gale.” She smiles sheepishly, earning a disgruntled smirk from Gale at her slip up. 

She remembers a conversation they had not too long after she moved in, where he told her that referring to him as ‘Mr. Dekarios’ was unnecessary, and preferred that she just called him Gale. For her comfort, but also his own. He didn’t delve into why, but she just assumed that that was a Tara exclusive thing and never questioned it further.

“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dish when you’re finished, I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together and then turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.

Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.

“Thank you, again. Goodnight.” 

He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she’d even be able to see it from miles away.

“Goodnight, Elara.” 

~

Lavender. Gale loved the smell of lavender. 

It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the bathroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her hair still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water. 

Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods. 

It felt wrong and he felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.  

It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really. Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite parts of the place he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed. 

He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, the first time he ran into her and Alastor at Sorcerous Sundries— so much so, that he completely forgot what he’d even gone there for and entirely abandoned whatever it was and returned home as quickly as possible, his heart racing as if it were trying to escape his chest and run right into her grasp. Sometimes he thinks maybe it has. 

And then when Alastor asked him to let her stay with him, all hope of properly courting her the way she deserved had somehow been entirely dashed in an instant. While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation. 

He valued his friendship with Alastor greatly, and feared that he would not take kindly to him beginning a romantic relationship with his only niece who had basically been raised as his daughter. She was worth trying for, he’d decided, and had been planning on coming around more and getting to know her the right way— and the rest is history.

Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing. 

She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her. 

For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time. 

It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of Alastor coming home and her leaving again. While he missed his friend, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more. 

He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly round the bend crazy over her. 

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing. 

The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned. 

Gods, this is madness. 

Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense. 

He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable. 

He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him. He pictures her long dark curls fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread for him. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy. 

The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he’d like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for. 

He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire, and he had to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she could overhear him. Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, instead. 

That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own stomach and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer without even realizing he was saying anything at all in his lust addled haze.

He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows. 

He wonders if her pillows smell like lavender. He imagines that they do. 

God I am a shameless wizard kisser I need him so bad I need him in a way that needs to be studied in a lab

this is part one of a series - ✧ (chapter 2)

[atinylittlepain]

Me Too

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ references to smut, idiots in love, emotional constipation, strep throat, lovey doveys in general

...............................................

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?” 

“The colors are nice.”

“Nice.” 

“What? They are. And hey, Robin told me to tell you to stop putting your name down on every silent auction sheet. She said people are noticing that one Andy Broder is trying to sweep the whole show.” 

“Oh please, Steve, I can’t help it. The sad student artists look at me with their sad student artist eyes and I feel bad if I don’t put my name down, sue me for having a heart.”

“Can you afford to have a heart?” She scoffs, a little tug back when he tries to take the wine glass out of her hand, though she relents, her smile simpering while he finishes off the last sip. 

“I’m only getting things started. Ten dollars, tops. I doubt I’ll win any of the pieces.” He’s hoping she’s right, because he’s not sure how they’ll get even one of the pottery sets she bid on back to her place if she does win. Sets of plates and bowls and goblets, because apparently this semester’s pottery class was really, really into making goblets. Robin has a set of two bowls and two goblets up for auction. Steve put down twenty dollars on it, to which Robin scoffed and told him you don’t count, you’re family. 

“I guess we’ll see if your logic works.” Maybe he’s being a little much, his hand curling around the plush of her waist, wrapped up in a dark knit dress that’s scattering his mind just a little, pulling her into his side and soft murmuring want another glass? And her humming no, long walk home and all, her palm smoothing out beneath his sternum, warm brown nail polish that he watched her put on in a curl on her couch. Maybe a little much when he tips his chin to press a kiss just beneath her ear, warm rasp of did I tell you how good you look? She sighs, laughs a little, how very male gaze of you, baby, but thank you, and that thank you is soft, slight, a secret that makes his heart feather and fret against his ribs for a breath. 

He gets to be a little much now, because they’re official now, a thing now. Had the conversation last weekend and he nearly pulled his hair out working up the nerve to tell her yes, old fashioned, yes, he wants that old fashioned thing with her, wants to be hers, and wants her to be his. And her eyes had widened, a slight blanching, before he realized that he was making it sound like the ring and the dress and the suit thing, quick back pedal, not quite that, at least not yet. But he left the not yet part out. And she had smiled, softened, collected his wrists in her hands to stop him from tugging at his hair, her thumbs stroking the quick jump of pulse beneath his skin. Yes, she told him, she had been wanting the same thing too, with him. So yeah, he gets to be a little much, his palm lingering on the hilt of her spine as they walk around the gallery, both of them tucking into the other. And when she ends up winning three of the bowl, plate, goblet sets she bid on for a grand total of thirty dollars, they take turns hauling the recycled moving box full of ceramics, switching off at every block and laughing at themselves, breaths puffing out like curled smoke in the cold night air. 

“Eddie wouldn’t want a goblet, would he?”

“Actually, considering he takes his diet coke in a coffee mug, I think he’d probably be into it.”

“Great, he can have three of them.” They leave the box next to her front door, shrugging out of coats and shoes, intent on sleep after a late night that really shouldn’t have been a late night for either of them. Finals, the end of the semester, and it’s certainly feeling like it. He doesn’t mind though, all but setting up permanent shop with her in her apartment. Has a few hangers in her closet, and a drawer in her dresser, and Sylvia doesn’t even pay him any mind these days, padding right past him up to the box and sniffing a bit disinterestedly at a bowl. 

No classes for the last week, just prep for exams and deadlines. They’ve spent the majority of their time in a quiet comfort on her couch studying and working on their respective coursework, only breaking for light touches and meals and the occasional walk amongst melting and refreezing snow. 

All this time with her is making him a little giddy, a little greedy, already feeling an anticipatory ache for when he leaves on Friday with Eddie and Robin to drive back to Hawkins for the holidays. He had thought about it, he had, but he’d firmly decided it’d be too much to ask. Only just a thing, only just official, and he didn’t want to overstep, come on too strong, too bold. Learned that somewhere along the way, and he can’t remember whose bed he was warming when he did. 

So he’ll go back to Hawkins, and Andy will go back to Boston, but not for another week because the less time I spend there, the better. He can understand that. 

“What do you have tomorrow?” 

“Oral exam for my global inequality class, and a paper to turn in for mental health policy. You?”

“Business policy and strategy paper, and a calc exam.” 

“Hmm, better you than me, babe.” Steam starting to rise and fog in her bathroom and both of them stripped down to threadbare underwear, not trying to impress each other any more. She presses a quick kiss to the round of his shoulder and murmurs something that sounds like almost done into his skin. And he feels pathetic, pitiful over the fact that almost done makes his heart pinch and pull into a sort of nauseous swoop. It’s ridiculous, he knows, only a few weeks, he knows that too. But still, but still, he doesn’t want to be almost done. 

Moving over and around each other in the bathroom, skin still damp from their shower, that oatmeal and chamomile soap she uses flooding his senses, and it feels like the most natural thing, like it has been like this all along. He lets his palm run up and down the track of her spine, feeling the notches through the thin fabric of her t-shirt while she sits up in bed, proofing her paper one final time, printed, with red pen poised. She won’t find anything to fix, he knows, worked hard on it all of yesterday and then they both trudged to the library to type up their respective work and print it out. And when she has decided that she is content with her work, she gets up and tucks it into a folder that she tucks into her bag. He watches the plush shake of her thighs, one-track mind and he’ll admit it, his hands finding bare skin when she comes back to bed, back to him. Curling close under the covers and maybe, maybe, he holds her a little closer, tucks his face into the stitching of her throat and breathes, and breathes to keep himself from saying words that wouldn’t be fair to say right now, not when he’s leaving tomorrow night. 

They both sleep hard and late, and he’s pretty sure she meant to be up earlier, little snit, little snap when he wakes her up, her shoulders hiking up to her ears and she’s already out of bed and out of his hands before he can say anything. And he’s not sure what this is, a cool prickle of worry simmering and slipping up his spine as they both move through getting dressed, distant and silent and her hardly looking at him, and he doesn’t know what happened in the last twelve hours for her to change so much. Stress, he tells himself, she’s stressed, and frankly so is he, and they’re both tired, and they’re both running late, and that must be it. 

“Are you gonna be around this afternoon?” She asks it light as air as she’s wrapping a scarf around her throat, more business associate than anything else and it almost makes him laugh.

“I, well, yeah, unless you don’t want me to be? But I’m leaving tonight, so.” The so feels lame even as he says it, maybe even a bit bitchy, her brows pulling together and then smoothing out all over again, unreadable.

“Okay, I know. So I’ll see you later then?” And there’s little room for an answer, already out the door, and ushering him out too, and he feels like he’s going to throw up even as his body does all the necessary things, down the stairs and out the door and it’s too late to say anything other than mmhmm because she’s already walking in the other direction to her exam that’s on that side of campus, away from his exam on this side of campus. 

No, not how it went yesterday. Yesterday, he had almost been late to his accounting exam because they just couldn’t quite seem to let go of each other, slipping and skidding over icy sidewalks all wrapped up and laughing and whispering little luck to each other between kisses. Not like today, not how it went today. And maybe, he thinks, maybe this is just that thing that seems to happen to him every time. Maybe this is the getting tired of him. Maybe this is the leaving. 

He sits for his exam, turns in his paper, goes back to his apartment to pack a bag for home, and he’s grateful that neither Robin nor Eddie are around so that they can’t clock the strange fugue state he’s sifting through. But he still returns to her apartment, that want to feel whatever this wound is ache a little more. And plainly, he still wants to see her.

There’s no answer when he knocks on her door, calls out her name, her real name, and it feels weird in his mouth because these days she’s honey, sometimes baby, but always honey. And it feels weird too, using the key she gave him for the first time, but there’s an admitted pang of worry flickering in his chest because she should definitely be back by now. 

He’s greeted with the curl of her back, tucked into herself on the couch and perfectly unmoving. She still has her coat on and he’s never seen her like this before. He kneels down next to the couch, rests his palm on her shoulder and runs a soft track down to her elbow and back up again. And this time it is honey, quiet and almost cracking with how he whispers it, though she stirs, makes a noise that he thinks sounds a little like Sylvia, mmm? 

She turns to look at him, eyes held in dark shadows, a little red, a little weepy, and he has to resist the urge to brush the back of his hand over her forehead because he’s pretty sure he knows what this is, pretty sure he’d find a little too much heat beneath her skin. 

“I thought you’d already left.” And yeah, definitely what this is, her voice somehow dissolving and splitting into a gravelly rasp since this morning. She winces a little with the sound. 

“You really think I’d leave without coming to see you first?” 

“I don’t know, I was a dick to you this morning.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” She sits up, and he has to resist the urge to help her, his hands settling instead on her knees, and there’s a guilty tuck to her chin, the fan of her lashes dropped down to her cheeks. His thumbs rub circles into her joints, something soothing, coaxing.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I was being stupid.” Her coat has shrugged down to hook around her elbows, a little pitiful, her palm curling at her throat like she could feel the ache through her skin.

“You’re sick.”

“Well that’s a little uncalled for, I think.”

“No, I mean like, you’re not feeling well, are you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m just tired, need to sleep exams off for a few days.” Her eyes close when he cups her cheek in his palm, little lean into the touch while his fingers creep up to her temple, and his suspicions are confirmed, a thick wash of heat.

“Have you taken anything?” 

“I took some advil when I got home.” 

“Did it help?” She shrugs, a little, while he’s already made a decision. He asks if he can use her phone, really quick, honey, and she shrugs again, already slipping back in between asleep and awake with her head tipped back on the couch cushion. He calls his apartment and Eddie picks up, tells him that he and Robin are going to have to leave without him because he’s needed here. Eddie makes a joke about Lord and Lady Harrington throwing a fit and Steve sighs, not really caring about that. He’ll deal with them when he has to. And then he’s back in front of the couch and coaxing Andy up despite her quiet protests because he’s pretty sure they need to go to Urgent Care. And they go to Urgent Care, and she’s apologizing the whole time and asking doesn’t he need to go? No, he says, not going anywhere. 

Strep throat, and he’s not surprised, and they catch another cab to stop at the pharmacy for her antibiotics. She keeps saying that she doesn’t want him to catch it before he goes home and he has to laugh because honey, if you have it I definitely have it, just a matter of time before I go down. And by the time they get back to her apartment, she seems to have accepted that he’s staying with a sort of sheepish acquiescence, lets him boss her around a little into a shower and then into bed, meds taken with a glass of water and her socked feet slipping against his ankles. She says sorry again into his chest, quiet and small, and he asks her what she’s saying sorry for. 

“You should be with your family.”

“Nah, I like being here better.”

“Even though I sound like I have smoker’s lung?” 

“It’s kinda hot, actually.” 

“Sure, okay.” The slightest laugh that’s more like a caught breath, and then a long enough span of silence for him to think that she’s fallen asleep, but then.

“I really am sorry about this morning.”

“You weren’t feeling well.” 

“I mean, yeah, but, I guess I thought it’d be easier.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna think this sounds dumb.”

“Not with that sexy smoker’s lung rasp I’m not.” Trying to lighten it, lift it, but she scoffs, Steve, serious, not kidding, her eyes unwavering, mouth tucked in the slightest frown, washed thin and pale in the slants of moonlight. 

“You weren’t even gone yet, and I was already missing you, and I felt insane for it.” He’s silent, a thick heat curling in his chest and blooming up and up and up, only feeling a little like an asshole when she says his name like a question, her hand curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. He has to clear his throat before he speaks. 

“It’s the same for me too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, except I wasn’t a dick about it.” Not serious, and she knows it, nose scrunched and a roll of her eyes. 

“You can make it up to me by taking me to Urgent Care in about two days when I start sounding like you.” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“You should sleep, honey.”

“So should you.” She tucks back into his chest, easy, and he just hopes she can’t hear the catch and jolt of his heartbeat, because it’s the same for her as it is for him.

They don’t leave her apartment for three days, and when they finally do, it is, as he predicted, so that they can take him to the Urgent Care for the exact same thing she had. And by the time he’s halfway finished with his round of antibiotics and she’s done with hers, and they’re both starting to feel like actual real people again, it’s December 24th, and it’s become very clear that neither one of them is going home for the holidays. 

He calls his mom, and his voice is still hoarse enough that she’s only mildly disappointed he won’t be home to make his requisite appearance at the family Christmas party. Meanwhile, Andy can hardly hold in a laugh at oh Steven, it’s not one of those, you know, sexually transmitted things, is it? No, mom, it’s not, yes, mom, merry Christmas. Andy’s conversation with her dad is even shorter, even curter, something about shipping presents, and her sisters asking questions. The youngest of five, she told him, more afterthought than anything else. And when they’ve both hung up there’s a giddy realization of their shared freedom, smiling at each other in her kitchen, crowded around the receiver hooked next to her fridge. 

“Are we bad people for doing that?” Trying to be cute in his lean against the fridge, taking the phone out of her hand and hanging it back up on the wall, but he can’t quite fight off the urge to cough first, tucking his face into his elbow before looking at her again, smiling small.

“We’re sick, honey. Our hands are tied, nothing we can do.” 

“Right, uh-huh. In that case, what do you want to do for dinner, my darling invalid?” 

And so there is no tree, and there are no presents, and there is no family this Christmas. They order takeout from a Chinese place a few blocks away, hot and sour soup and fried rice and crab rangoons that Steve offers one of to Sylvia, curled up on the arm of the couch where they have their holiday meal. She sniffs it, holds it briefly between her teeth, then spits it out on the carpet, though she seems to thank him for his consideration with a slow twine between his legs when he gets up to throw it away.

They don’t get out of bed until the middle of the afternoon on Christmas day, Andy coaxing both of them into a shower, and then into real clothes, and they leave her apartment as the sun is starting to set, catch the train going toward Navy Pier, and brave the cold to walk around beneath the blossoming lights display. Both a good and bad idea, they return with a kicked-up cough shared between them, rattling lungs, rattling ribs, warmed up and smoothed out with tea and buttered toast for dinner. They go back to bed full and content, and sleep off what remains of their sickness. 

The rest of that liminal time before the new year is spent simply, sweetly. They do a deep clean of everything, haul all their laundry down to her complex’s basement, him in a pair of her sweats and his own t-shirt, and her in an old flannel and a pair of his basketball shorts that are only just a little obscene because they’re too tight, you and your slutty waist are trying to kill me, nonsense, no sense. Afterward, when there’s a stack of fresh and folded clothes on her newly made bed, and the apartment smells like lemon and cold air from the window they left cracked, she kisses him again, and again, and again, in the kitchen until they’re both slumping down onto the checkerboard linoleum, sweet want, sweet melt, left panting and giggling in the aftermath. 

And when New Year’s Eve arrives, neither of them make it to midnight, dead to the world in a tangle on her couch, both of them still a little snotty, a little sleep-worn. He wakes up early in the first morning of 1991 with a stiff neck and pins and needles in his foot where he’s pretty sure Sylvia is sleeping. Andy, still asleep, with her leg slung over his and her shoulder tucked in beneath his, and he decides now would be the perfect time to try those words out. So he does, words that have only been offered to Robin, or Eddie when he’s really drunk, for many years. He whispers them like he’s getting away with something, and she doesn’t even stir, and he’s grateful for that as heat blooms and buoys in his chest.

The next time, he’ll say those words a little louder. He’s pretty sure she’ll say them back.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interview

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck here and @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

Rules: answer questions as one of your OCs!

This time, I think I'll go ahead and do Lexi!

Are you named after anyone?

“Not that I'm aware of. My parents just really liked the name Alexia. And honestly, I can't blame them! It's a good name. I mean, there are so many variants on the name Alexander. Like I could've gotten Alexandra but that seems a little...I dunno, much? Much. Alexis doesn't...feel right. For me, like, I think Alexandra and Alexis are fine names for people who aren't me. Regardless, I definitely prefer the name Lexi. Alexia feels a little awkward to be called on, like, a regular basis. Again, for me. I'm rambling. The point is, no, I don't think I'm named after anyone.”

When was the last time you cried?

“This morning. I couldn't find my pink pen. Yeah, I know it seems stupid and immature to cry over a pen, but, like, it wasn't like I was upset that my pen was missing, it was the fact that I was stressed over losing it because my pink pen is used to color-code my English assignments. And there's a lot of English assignments, y'know?”

Do you have kids?

“I am in middle school. Middle. Schoooool. Who's even thinking about romance? That'll come with time. Like, high school. And kids much later. Like, after college. I don't have to worry about that right now.”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“I dunno. I don't have a record. Sometimes?”

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

“...everything? I dunno, I look at them, and I see them. The whole of them. Is this an attraction question? I already said I was in middle school! I guess height. Like if I look at them, it's either up, down, or straight ahead. Height.”

What’s your eye colour?

“My eyes are brown. Not much to say about them. They're pretty dark brown. My sister has bright blue eyes that really standout against her skin and hair. I'm not jealous, actually, it's just an observation. I happen to like my dark eyes!”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Happy endings, of course! I love a good happy ending. I mean, sad endings make me sad. Scary movies can have happy endings, I guess. This is a strange question haha. But happy endings.”

Any special talents?

“Well, I am first chair, first violin in my orchestra class! I think I'm a good leader. Usually take the lead on group projects. Um...oh, duh, I play the violin. And I also can organize stuff really well. Good color sense, I've been told. Uh, I gotta garden! It's small, but I wanted to have an out doorsy activity. Brings my anxiety down.”

Where were you born?

“Uh...here in Texas, I think. At least that's what I was told. *Gasp* There's a chance I was born in Alium! I need to ask my pia about that...”

Do you have any pets?

“No. I wouldn't mind one! A dog or a cat would be awesome. Maybe both!”

What sort of sports do you play?

“I don't actually play sports. There'd be a few issues to convince those in charge, anyways, to get me a different uniform. I have haphephobia - I don't like people touching me - and the more skin I show the higher the risk and my anxiety goes up more. So for now, no, we don't want to deal with that. I ride my bike sometimes. If I were to play a sport, it would be either volleyball or tennis, and definitely cheerleading - those girls are so nice!”

How tall are you?

“I am 5'1, meaning I'm about average for my age!”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“Oh! English! I like learning new words - I always have. Phonics may have been my favorite in elementary school! We don't do that a lot anymore, but we still learn a lot more about language. Also, may be biased because all my friends are in my class this year. Well, not all of them. Three of them. Mr. Flanagan also let us choose our groups at the beginning of the year, so I'm always with them!”

What is your dream job?

“I. Am in. Middle school. Why would I be thinking that far? *Sigh* I guess...I dunno, maybe journalism or counseling? I feel like that'd be fun.”

Other interviews: Wade, Jazlyn, Gwen

Other Lexi: OC in fifteen, OC in three, OC questionnaire, two truths and a lie, Picrew, blank bingo

Tagging @somethingclevermahogony @melpomene-grey @squarebracket-trickster @writernopal @writeintrees

@winterandwords @ceph-the-ghost-writer @elizaellwrites @tabswrites

+ anyone else who'd like to play!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites @nebula--nix

Blanks below cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

^ for easy copy/paste

[yanderehsr]

Hello! I hope im not late for he event ahaha, please forgive my bad english, its not my first language and congratulations on 1k! :D

My oc is called Atalai,Male, 23

Looks: He is a 7'2 male, with tan skin, long dark brown hair tied in a low pony tail and black eyes. He is muscular, has bull horns and tail and has a a scar running down his cheek and abother crossing his nose bridge.

Personality: He's outgoing and very kind, he is mostly friendly but he isn't naive. He is mostly calm and collected but sometimes he is quick to anger and isn't afraid of starting a fight, he likes to help people and doens't like to be fooled or tricked.

Backstory: He grew up as an orphan in Snezhnaya, and would take any job to survive, thanks to this he was able to travel other nations since young until two kind ladies took him in so he became some sort of famer assistant. he started to see them as his big sisters and he loves them a lot, being the two most important people in his life. As he grew older he started to be some type of traveler, doing any work in any nation to pay back his "Big Sisters" since he wants to give them a easier life. He learned how to fight thanks to the multiple robs he had to face at night, he uses a type of claymore that he can divide in two to turn it into dual swords, he does like the thrill of fight and hunt but he doesn't fight or hunt unless necessary.

For the yandere could i have either Zhongli, Lumine, ningguang, or Diluc please? Any of these four is fine :D

Thank you a lot and feel free to ignore if i broke any rules!

Sure, thanks for the request, Hope you'll enjoy😁

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Diluc: At first he is suspicious of Atalai, just like he is with anyone from Snezhnaya, it will take Diluc some time to trust him, let alone fall for him but when he falls, oh boy he falls hard, Snezhnaya doesn't deserve Atalai, his sisters doesn't deserve him, hell not even Diluc sees himself as worthy, but he sees himself as the only one that can protect him.

Diluc doesn't care how strong Atalai is, in the end he is mortal, and like any mortal he can die, so he needs to be shielded. Diluc isn't afraid of fighting him either if it's to kidnap him, sure Atalai may become a bit... burnt but Diluc doesn't mind.

"Stop being so stubborn, you are safer here then you ever was in Snezhnaya, so stop fighting it and accept that your place is by MY side"

Ningguang: She herself is from humble origins so she fells a bit connected with Atalai concerning that, but what she really falls for is his kindness as cheezy as that sounds, the fact that he can stay kind yet not naive is something she admires and she falls for, she wants him and what she wants, she gets.

Ningguang has an idea how to get him to come willingly with her, she wants to be the one in control of this relationship, at first Ningguang will try to buy him off, she can support his sisters financially, if he really wants whats best for them then he'll accept, if for some reason he refuses, well she isn't above threatening them, she has hired assassins and the second she gives the word they will die, she does all this so she can own Atalai, he is hers, he has no option in this.

"The clock is ticking, tell me your choice before I lose my patience, be mine and I'll make sure no harm comes to them"

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

85 for the OC game. Tipsy Riot is adorable!

85. Their S/O is tipsy. How do they handle it?

Lmao I love this

I hc Ghost has good alcohol resistance, would be just tipsy after more than five or six drinks. He's big and he isn't stupid, so he wouldn't drink on an empty stomach. Being drunk out of his mind is being vulnerable, so it's a no-no.

Slightly tipsy Simon is hilarious. Endless stupid jokes with that deadpan tone of his, snorting at himself. Ribbing Soap and Gaz, taking the piss out of Price (who indulges in it, seeing Simon so relaxed is a gift)

But tipsy TIPSY Simon is hilariously clingy.

"Hey Lt, you okay? You're gonna smother her, mate" Gaz couldn't help but laugh at a clingy Ghost, keeping Riot on his lap with his big arms around her, his face buried in the back of her neck, under her hair.

His only answer was a happy rumble that made her whole body shake, and Christine giggled.

"I think he's fine, Kyle"

"What if you need to go to the toilet, hen?" Johnny slurred, just as wasted. Christine shrugged, but before she could answer, a deep voice rose from beneath her hair

"Not going"

"Guess I'm not going" She sighed, shrugging, but yelped when Simon suddenly stood up, tossing her over his shoulder. "Simon, what the...?"

"Toilet"

"What!?"

*

Riot has a lower tolerance, so her max is two or threr drinks. She doesn't really drink alcohol, prefering fizzy drinks or juice.

Slightly tipsy Riot can go either the moody and silent path or the raging at anything. Three drinks in, she'll go along with whatever stupid shit Soap has concocted. Steal a RMP's vehicle? Hold my beer. Climb to the roof just because? Absolutely. Paint obscene graffitti on someone's door? She's in.

Christine 'I had one too many' Vega gets sappy and clingy with Simon (and he drinks up that shit). She never got to that extreme because she had to be the responsible one with Soap, but with the safety of Simon's arms? She can let go.

"So..."

Simon chuckled, highly amused with the pretty clingy thing on his lap, all bright blue eyes and relaxed smile, for once. Held safely in his arms, hidden away in a pub's booth while the others were having fun.

"So"

"You like me" She said it as a statement, not a question, and he nodded, brushing away a loose strand of hair from her face.

"I do. And you like me"

"Uh-huh" Christine nodded enthusiastically, giggling when he took the opportunity and kissed her, hidden by the shadows in the booth.

Smiling, she held up her hand, separating her thumb and index finger barely a couple of cm.

"You like me this much, then?"

Simon shook his head, his dark brown eyes staring into her blue irises fondly.

"Try again, beautiful. A lot more than that"

Christine snorted, pretending to be surprised, and widened the space between her fingers.

"Like this?"

He laughed and pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers, satisfied when he heard her purr.

"A lot more than that" He repeated, and smiled when she nuzzled his nose with hers. "And you?"

She didn't even take a second to think.

"I like you forever"

Simon chuckled, shaking his head, but that little nonsense made his heart both swell and ache painfully.

"I like you forever too, lovie"

[maybecrot]

Since the Hellsing fandom is more active on here, and I love to see other people's OCs.. (all of you are creative with your OCs, which is *chef's kiss*)

I'd love to introduce my own OC!

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

Basic info:

Her name is Carmen Marquez. She was born on August 5th in Oaxaca, Mexico. Her name is Herbew and Latin origin, and it means "song, truthful, and poetry." As for her surname, it means "son of Marcos or Marcus."

She is 23 years old. Carmen is the oldest out of her family. (May or may not have the burden of being the "perfect golden child")

She works for Iscariot, and her main (and only) friends are Heinkel and Yumiko.

Carmen has no opinion on Enrico. She doesn't necessarily like him but doesn't hate him, either.

As for her opinion on Anderson, she views him as a second father figure in her life.

She is 5'6", thus making her a centimeter taller than some people. For some reason, she gets a bit insecure of her height sometimes. Carmen either feels she's too tall or too short to others.

She speaks Spanish and English fluently.

Her zodiac sign is Leo. (It's not really important, but I decided to add this in there if anyone's curious)

Carmen is pansexual. She doesn't care what anyone looks. If they're hot, then she finds that person hot. Expect, she won't ever admit that.

Weapons & Powers:

She has two main weapons. One is a rapier and a silver ring with an aquamarine crystal that can turn into a whip.

When her ring turns into its whip form, light blue colored lighting emits from it.

She wears her ring on her right index finger.

Ángel's Suerte (rapier) was given to her by the Iscariots, and Heavenly Twist (ring/whip) is her family's heirloom that is passed down from generation to generation; Carmen was gifted this ring by her father.

Both weapons are required for Carmen to tap into her spiritual prowess. She can create magical glyphs for Ángel's Suerte. As for Heavenly Twist, she will use it if under grim circumstances or if there are few enemies in her path.

Heavenly Twist is used to strike enemies with powerful lashes, depending on how poweful Carmen wants these attacks to be. The enemies are rendered immobile as the electricity will spread out throughout said enemies.

Appearance:

Carmen has long, wavy dark brown hair, which she keeps it in a braid.

Her eye color is amethyst (or purple, whichever term you prefer to use!)

She has small yet noticeable freckles everywhere on her body. They're more on her face, collarbone, and shoulders.

Carmen does wear the standard Catholic nun uniform like Yumiko. Only if she's sent to missions. Otherwise, she prefers to be in her regular attire. This consists of anything beige (her favorite color), usually dresses, skirts, and tops. Her clothing is inspired by her culture in a more modern style.

She likes to wear earrings. Especially her golden cross earrings! Anything with crosses or pearls will catch her attention.

Personality:

Carmen is a considerate and generous woman. She cares about the people around her, being rather sympathetic. Whenever she had free time, she would play with the children at the orphanage or write and send letters to her family. Though, she does have her flaws. If someone confronts her about something, Carmen is harsh, a *bit* short-tempered, and passive-aggressive. She's fiercely protective when it comes to her family or anyone with whom she has a close bond. Upon meeting strangers, she tends to be polite and quiet. She will only speak when she's spoken to.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

I would add her backstory here, but I'm holding that back unless anyone asks. Then I'll make a separate post about it!

Feel free to ask questions about her! I love to take every opportunity to gush about Carmen because I only gush about her to one of my friends ahsh

Here's a drawing of Carmen I did two days ago!

(The quality looks terrible, in my opinion, but let's overlook that. When it comes to designing my OCs, I tend to play around with Picrew and try out different makers to see which one would fit my OCs the best.)

That's what I did with Carmen! I thought this picrew maker worked perfectly with her.

The Picrew I used is called The Lady Of Hera by K_pupu!

In conclusion, feel free to ask questions about her! Also, I welcome art of her 🫶🏽

[stargazer-sims]

15 OC Questions!

I was tagged so many times for this, and I love it! This one is for @bl-sims-anime - thank you!

Yuri Okamoto-Nelson

Are you named after anyone?

No, I'm not named after anyone.

When was the last time you cried?

Not that long ago, actually. It's unusual for me, because I'm not generally prone to crying, but I've been very ill recently and I was in a lot of pain. I don't remember exactly when I might've been crying, or how often. The last week or so has passed in somewhat of a haze for me, but I do recall that I cried more than once during that time.

Do you have kids?

I don't actually like children. They're messy and demanding and selfish. Victor and I don't have any, and we're not planning to. If I'm being perfectly honest, I don't really want to share his affection with anyone, and I don't think he wants to share mine, either.

Do you use sarcasm?

Hmm... sometimes, yes. Victor would probably say I use it more often than I think I do.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I realize how awful this is going to sound, but the first thing I notice about people is how they present themselves; how they're dressed, how their hair is styled... things like that. I've learned not to make snap judgments about people's personality and character based on their appearance, but even so, I can't stop noticing.

What’s your eye colour?

My eyes are dark brown.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, please! I don't like anything scary or violent. My favourite films are historical dramas, with bonus points for romance and beautiful outfits. The endings don't even have to be happy, necessarily, just as long as it's not tragedy, mayhem and carnage. Victor doesn't really like historical romances, but I think he watches them with me as an excuse to cuddle, and I'm certainly not complaining. My happy place is lying in his arms and enjoying some sweeping historical tale of romance and intrigue.

Any special talents?

I don't think I have any talents that are particularly special. I'm painfully average.

Where were you born?

Mt. Komorebi.

What are your hobbies?

Probably the one I'm most noted for is playing the violin. I love music, and I've been obsessed with the violin ever since I was a young child and would watch and listen as my mother played. Mama taught me a few things, but I officially started violin lessons when I was five, and I think I was sold on it for life, almost immediately. My other hobbies include playing video games, reading, and writing.

Have you any pets?

Yes. Victor and I have two dogs. We have a Pomeranian named Sango and a chihuahua called Rosie.

What sports do you play/have played?

My favourite sport is snowboarding. I also like to ski, and Victor has taught me how to swim, which I also really enjoy. Back in the summer, when I was feeling much better than I currently do, Victor and I decided to try rock climbing, which I liked but can't imagine myself having the stamina to do seriously. I'm not certain if yoga qualifies as a sport, but I like doing that Oh... and Victor has created a low-impact exercise routine for me that I can do even when I'm not feeling one hundred percent, so we can work out together.

How tall are you?

165cm

Favourite subject in school?

My favourite subjects were Language Studies and Communications.

Dream job?

This is a difficult one. I've never really had a dream anything until recently. Before I met Victor, I think the only real dream I had was to find someone who'd love me unconditionally and help me out of the slump of depression and lack of self-worth that I was living in. I didn't really think about education beyond high school, or having a dream career, or a dream destination or anything like that. All I was focusing on was survival, physically, mentally and emotionally.

It's only been very recently that I've started thinking about my future and the goals I might like to set for myself. At the moment, I work for a PR and communications firm, FutureBright Communications. I really like my job and I'm good at it. I've been given more and more responsibility since I started, and I've gotten some important clients lately. I think I'd like to stay working in communications, and perhaps start my own little firm some day.

______

I'm not going to tag anyone this time, as I've tagged numerous people already and I can't recall who. Anyone who sees this and wants to do one, feel free! You can even say I tagged you. =)

[marydontweep]

Mystery of Love

word count: 1,754

tw: implied infidelity

pairing: black male!oc x white male!oc

December, 1976

New York's weather seldom offers mercy.

The harsh, icy winter wind whips at the areas of exposed flesh on Emmett's body. His nose is beginning to take on a red hue, and a stinging numbness takes over his ears. He curses himself for being so ill prepared for the cold temperature. Nevertheless, Emmett stands his ground against the cruel climate. He won't give Mother Nature the satisfaction of stealing this long awaited moment away from him.

For months, loneliness had pierced his heavy heart. Phone calls, letters, and late night fantasies weren't enough to satiate Emmett's growing need. He just had to lay his eyes upon the object of his affection. Emmett wanted─no, needed to lose himself in his lover's rich brown irises. He longed for the all too familiar scent of baby oil and Vaseline that he was now accustomed to. He craved the feeling of soft yet aggressive lips moving in synchronicity with his own. Oh, how Emmett wants to thread his fingers through those silky ebony curls as the words I love you fell carelessly from his tongue.

But he must play it safe.

Their relationship, or whatever you'd call it, is a blooming rose. Though the physical aspect had been explored, the emotional aspect is fresh territory. Emmett would feel dreadfully silly making a declaration of his undying love just to be met with rejection. A fleeting moment alone with his lover in the shadows of uncertainty is better than nothing at all.

"I ain't been here since I was a little boy." Alexandre speaks, slicing through the silence with swift abruptness.

Emmett, languidly swinging himself back and forth on the swing set, looks at the younger man. The silvery light of the moon beams brilliantly upon Alexandre's honey glazed skin, casting a divine glow while his dark colored eyes twinkle beneath its luminance. Instead of pulling it into a ponytail, Alexandre lets his voluminous sea of black waves flow freely down his back. Since day one Emmett had found Alexandre's outward appearance very appealing, but tonight the young man is a sculptor's reverie.

Shifting awkwardly, Alexandre continues to talk. "Me and my brothers used to play here every day after school. Sometimes we'd lose track of time, and our momma would come looking for us. Man, we sure were a wild bunch!" He states gleefully, chuckling as he recalls the memory.

Alexandre's sudden urge to share tidbits of his childhood delights and surprises Emmett. Aside from his Afro-French parentage and New York upbringing, Emmett knows next to nothing about Alexandre's life, if he’s being frank. He is an enigma. A mystery waiting to be solved. To be honest, Alexandre's private nature reminds Emmett of himself. He too prefers to keep most parts of his life concealed. It was this commonality that piqued his interest in Alexandre.

Alas, Emmett can't resist the surge of curiosity brewing within him. He wants to peer into the very depths of Alexandre's mind, uncovering every moment of his life.

"How many brothers do you have?" Emmett blurts out. Immediately, trepidation settles into his bones. He really didn't mean to ask that question, but like vomit the words had come rushing out of his mouth.

"Well, you met Charlie already," Alexandre begins, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "And I got another brother. Plus, a sister. So, that's two brothers and one sister."

What are their names? Are they younger or older?

"What about you?" Alexandre questions. "Do you have any siblings?"

Emmett nods. "I have a younger sister."

A toothy smile forms on Alexandre's face. His teeth are pearly white and unbelievably straight. "That's one more thing we have in common."

"Yeah," Emmett fights back his own smile. "I─I guess it is."

Silence dawns upon them again. It isn't an uncomfortable silence either. The silence is quite peaceful. During the moment of tranquility, Emmett sneaks glances in Alexandre's direction. With his chin resting in his palm and his eyebrows furrowed, the young man appears to be deep in thought. Emmett wonders what is going on inside that pretty little head of his. The need to gain insight into the innerworkings of Alexandre's brain is almost overwhelming. Emmett, however, swallows the questions that threaten to spill from his lips.

In due time...

Without warning, Alexandre stands up from the swing. He walks towards Emmett, stopping to stand in front of him. Two long, slender fingers are propped under Emmett's chin, gently guiding his head upwards. Emmett shivers at the sensation of cold fingers against his skin. Alexandre's eyes bore into Emmett's with the intensity of a wildlife, burning through to his very core. Emmett's heart pounds savagely against his ribcage, and his hands become damp with perspiration. He can feel the butterflies violently fluttering around in his stomach. The power Alexandre holds over him─over his emotions is immense.

Emmett opens his mouth to say something─anything, but he struggles to formulate a coherent sentence. So, he utters not a single word. Emmett remains quiet as a mouse while Alexandre's fingers trace the line of his jaw. His touch is gentle. Careful. As if he is outlining the edges of a precious, invaluable drawing. Emmett's heart swells at the mere idea of being compared to a work of art.

Alexandre's other hand takes a hold of Emmett's hand, squeezing lightly. The younger man's hand is ice cold, but Emmett doesn't mind. He savors the pure intimacy of Alexandre's touch.

"Come on," Alexandre beckons, pulling Emmett off the swing. "I wanna show you something."

Emmett follows Alexandre to his car, getting into the passenger's side as Alexandre gets behind the wheel. The drive is relatively short─approximately four minutes, if Emmett had to guess. Therefore, Emmett doesn't have much of a chance to see most of the surrounding neighborhood through the window. He makes a mental note to ask Alexandre for a tour of Harlem the next time he is in New York.

Alexandre parks the car in a lot near a rundown apartment building. Emmett throws him a confused glance.

"Um, what am I supposed to be looking at, darling?" He asks, his tone light-hearted yet he wonders why the fuck they are there.

In response to Emmett's confusion, Alexandre laughs. He laughs like Emmett had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"The thing I wanna show you is inside the building, baby." Alexandre explains after regaining his composure.

An inaudible 'oh' comes from Emmett.

Great. Now he probably thinks I'm a ninny!

They exit the vehicle with Alexandre leading the way. Upon closer inspection, the building doesn't look as tattered and ugly. It still isn't pleasing to the eye, but it certainly looks better. The inside of the building isn't too bad either. Though Emmett is upset to discover that the lift (or, as Alexandre had referred to it, the elevator) isn't in service. Walking up three flights of stairs is not something that Emmet enjoyed. Nevertheless, he braves through it.

"Here it is! Apartment 306." Alexandre exclaims. He takes out a key from his coat pocket, hurriedly unlocking the wooden door. When Alexandre enters the apartment, Emmett is close behind him.

Alexandre turns on the lights, revealing a seemingly untouched living room. Plastic covers the furniture, the glass coffee table practically sparkles in the light, and not even a hair follicle resides on the cream colored carpet. In other words, there are no signs of anyone having lived here.

Placing his coat on the coat rack, Alexandre is brimming with excitement. "This is the apartment I grew up in," he moves to stand behind Emmett, his tall, skinny build towering over the older man. "I got it fixed up two weeks ago. Now, I don't really be here all that much, but I didn't want somebody else renting my childhood home."

"It's a lovely place," is all that Emmett can manage to say. Truthfully speaking, he is struggling to contain his exhilaration. Emmett feels like Alexandre is beginning to shed his walls, leaving his heart vulnerable to Emmett's deep affection.

“Thanks,” Alexandre replies, striding over to a tall, black shelf filled with vinyl records.

Alexandre begins rummaging through the ample collection of records. He is indecisive, taking out a record then putting it back not a minute later. Finally, something catches his eye─or at least Emmett hopes so. Alexandre turns towards Emmett with the record in hand. It's The Beatles' “And I Love Her” 1964 single.

Emmett can't bite back the grin that spreads across his face. "But I thought you hated The Beatles."

Alexandre sucks his teeth. "Hate is a strong word, Emmett," he says as he places the record on the record player. "They're talented musicians, but I just don't think they all that." Alexandre puts the needle on the record.

Emmett shrugs. "To each his own."

"I saw the single in the record store yesterday," Alexandre begins, talking in a hushed tone while Paul McCartney's dulcet, euphonious voice drifts throughout the room. He is now standing face to face with Emmett. "And I remembered how you loved The Beatles, so I brought it. It turned out to be a nice little tune, if I'm being for real." He lets out a short, awkward chuckle. There's an underlying timidity in Alexandre's entire demeanor. He seems uncomfortable as the words leave his mouth.

"Oh, well, that's very sweet of you, Alex." Emmett says, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

The younger man doesn't respond, but the glint in his eyes speaks volumes.

A love like ours could never die...

Alexandre steps closer, bridging the gap between them. He holds out his hand for Emmett to take. Emmett takes it without hesitation, allowing himself to be engulfed in a gentle embrace. He rests his head on Alexandre's chest. The thumping of his heart is strong─comforting even.

Dark is the sky...

As they slowly move to the melody, Emmett feels a shift in them both. The doubt that tore away at him from the very beginning is dissipating. Emmett can see, clear as day, the beautiful and vibrant scarlet petals of that rose blossoming beneath the radiant glow of their union.

I know this love of mine will never die...

Emmett has never felt this way before. Sure, he cares for his fiancée Claire, but the emotions Alexandre awakens within him are completely different. It feels right. He knows it's right. Anything this wonderful could never be wrong.

And I love her.

Love could never be wrong.

[charlesjosephwrites]

Get To Know My OC Tag - Ms. Psychic Edition

Jumping in on my own open tag because I really like this method of introducing characters. Also, I figured it was about time I talk about the other title character for The Magician and Ms. Psychic. Check out April's character intro HERE.

First, since this got pretty long, I'd like to leave this as an open tag for whoever else wants to introduce one of their characters. Don't be shy about tagging me! I love hearing about people's characters!

Now, without any further ado, here's Ms. Psychic!

We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please come back later!

The bold text fades from the screen to reveal the news anchor, slightly disheveled, but otherwise fine.

"Thank you for sticking with us, everybody," he addresses the camera with his usual made-for-tv smile. "I'm pleased to announce that the Magician has been taken care of, all thanks to our extra special surprise guest, Ms. Psychic!"

Ms. Psychic enters on cue, her brink pink cape billowing behind her in the non-existent wind and her long black hair floating up in the air as though she was underwater. Her movements are stiff and awkward as she shuffles forwards, and she regards the camera with the same sort of suspicious squint she might give to a misbehaving supervillain. Gravity seemingly takes a hold of her as she sinks into the seat next to the news anchor, and she has to brush a few rogue strands of hair away from her face.

"Um... hi." She gives the camera a hesitant little wave.

"Ms. Psychic has agreed to answer a few questions for us tonight!" The new anchor announces gleefully. "Are we ready to get started?"

"Sure." She nods slowly. "Let's..." Her voice catches in her throat. "Let's make this quick, please."

"Of course." The news anchor flashes her a smile. "Onto the first question."

1. Are you named after anyone?

"My mom was a small time superhero. She... well..." Ms. Psychic exhales sharply. "She died in action when I was a kid, and I took on her name as a way to honor her."

2. When was the last time you cried?

"I guess it was pretty recently. I mean... I try not to dwell on it too much, but fighting supervillains is dangerous, and... well..." She hesitates. "You can't always save everyone, you know? It's just... kind of hard to deal with that sometimes."

3. Do you have kids?

"No. I'm... not sure I should, either. I'd be risking some supervillain finding out about them and putting them in danger."

4. Do you use sarcasm?

"Sometimes, I guess."

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

"Their voice. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they speak."

6. What's your eye color?

"They're dark brown."

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings, definitely. I especially love those campy old sci-fi movies."

8. Any special talents?

She has to think about this question for a moment. "Um... I can bench press a hundred and forty pounds."

9. Where were you born?

"I was born and raised right here in Metrovale."

10. What are your hobbies?

"I don't have that much free time for hobbies. I guess I like going to the gym? It's good for stress relief, and I've got to stay in shape somehow."

11. Have you any pets?

"No. Like I said, I don't have much free time to devote to something like taking care of a pet."

12. What sports do you play/have played?

"I played softball when I was a kid. I really liked it, but I had to stop when my powers started manifesting. I was upset at the time, but it wouldn't have been fair to the other kids with the whole telekinesis thing, so..." Ms. Psychic shrugs. "It was for the best."

13. How tall are you?

"I'm five foot two."

14. Favorite subject in school?

"I always liked science class. I think my favorite was biology."

15. Dream job?

"I've wanted to be a superhero ever since I was a kid. It doesn't exactly pay the bills, but I don't mind the side gig."

"And that was the last question," the news anchor says. "Thank you so much for joining us here tonight."

"N... no problem. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Ms. Psychic rises to her feet, her chair carefully pushing itself in as she takes a step back - "I've got some business to attend to."

[sayheykid]

Happy Birthday 🎂!! Hope you're having a nice day :] For the OC ask game how about 💇‍♀️👁 for Charlie and Tyler (or any OC you'd like to talk about :])

thank you!!! my day is better since i get to talk about these guys :D

i'm not sure whether the questions were for specific people so i'll answer for both of them

💇 What is your OC’s hairstyle? How do they maintain their hair? Do they wash it and/or cut it regularly? Have they ever dyed their hair?

charlie is a redhead!! everyone else thinks it's a much bigger deal than he does - he's never really understood the hype. as he gets older his hair gets longer, and throughout college he usually had pretty good flow going. it never got as long as others like ramón, but usually it was tighter on the sides, and longer past his cap in the back. pretty typical baseball player look (like the dansby swanson special). his hair also gets pretty curly when he lets it grow, though i have to admit he's a 3-in-1 shampoo guy.

tyler has pretty thick, wavy hair and i'd love to say he has the little swoopy superman curl that falls down over his face, but beyond that i haven't really thought too hard about how he styles it. dark hair, either black or so brown it looks black. he does have a buzzcut at some point, which ellie did for him:)

👁 What is your OC’s eye color? Do they have any eye-related habits, like winking or rubbing their eyes? Do other people tend to notice their eyes?

charlie has hazel eyes, and depending on what he's wearing, they either look like a warm brown or mossy green. he has very expressive eyes, especially when he's smiling - he smiles more with his eyes than with his mouth. conversely, when he's angry his eyes flash and it's actually pretty intimidating.

tyler has light blue eyes, though it's not unsettling the way it is for many people with blue eyes. he would love to be able to wink, but i don't know that he can. i think tyler also has glasses but he doesn't wear them all the time (are rec specs the move while he's playing?? i'm open to input)

thanks again!! love talking about them<33

[livingdreams97]

Emily Dickinson- "The past comes back" (part 2)

Emily Dickinson x fem! reader/oc

Summary: An old friend of Lavinia's returns to Amherst after years out of town and not seeing each other. But what happens when Lavinia's friend turns out to be not only her friend, but two more girls and one of them turns out not to remember her.

Words: 4.176

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Masterlist

NOTE: If you see any spelling mistake im sorry, english is not my first lenguage and i try to do it the best possible.

Y/n's POV

The time had come to reunite with my friends after so many years. I had spent the day cleaning my old room, since we will be here for at least a month and it would not be healthy to sleep in a room full of dust and dirt.

I had changed my dress, for one a little more formal and simple than the one I had worn during the day. It consisted of a egyptian blue long-sleeved dress with details of a dark green similar to brown.

I had pulled my dirty blonde hair up into a low bun and left two wavy strands loose on either side of my face. Once with shoes the same color as the dress, I leave my room and go downstairs holding the dress.

I look for my mother with my eyes on the first floor, finding her sitting on the sofa in the living room and reading a book with total tranquility. I walk towards her stealthily, so she doesn't notice me, and stand behind her .

Y/n: Mother.- I call her and she jumps in her place screaming because of the fright.

Mary: For the love of the Lord, how dare you scare me and laugh on top of that.- she reproaches me with a hand on his heart, turning to see me and finding me laughing at his reaction.

Y/n: You have to admit that it was funny mother.- I assure her without stopping laughing and receiving a not very positive look from her.

Mary: It hasn't been funny, daughter.- She seriously denies. -I'm old now and these scares aren't healthy.- she reminds me and I roll my eyes at her exaggeration.

Y/n: It hasn't been that much mother.- i downplayed it by walking around the room. -In addition, there is a study that says that scares help to have a stronger health and delay the aging of the face.- I explain trying to sound credible.

Mary: And can you know why ? - asks leaving the closed book on her lap and crossing her arms without taking her eyes off me.

Y/n: Because of the endorphins and the adrenaline that is generated in moments of fright.- I respond by looking at the library in the room and avoiding her gaze. -During a scare, the heart pumps more blood together with the endorphins and makes them act with more force on the skin and the rest of the organs.- I finish telling her, taking a book off the shelf and feigning interest.

Mary: And does that study really exist or are you just making it up?- She asks me and I look at her raising my eyebrows offended.

Y/n: Of course the study exists mother.- I answer as if she had insulted me.

Mary: I'm going to pretend that I believe you because of my emotional and mental state above all.- She sighs, closing her eyes for a few seconds. - Are you ready to go to the Dickinson house?- she asks me with a slight smile.

Y/n: As you can't imagine mother.- I respond excitedly. – Finally, after thirteen years I will be able to get back together with the girls and talk to them in person instead of by letter.- i explaine and I see how the smile on his face widens.

Mary: I'm very glad that this trip is giving you so much joy daughter.- She assures me, to get up from the sofa and leave the book that she was previously reading on the table next to the sofa. –Are you ready ? - she asks me and I nod.

Y/n: You don't see me.- I say pointing to my outfit and my hairstyle.

Mary: Yes daughter I can still see, although with your scares one day I can lose my sight and my life.- She reproaches me a bit amused.- But you look beautiful, my daughter, as always.- She assures me holding my cheeks and smiling at me. loving.

Y/n: Thank you mom.- I am happy to thank you for your approval.

Mary: As much as I accept that you still don't want to get married, I don't understand how with your beauty and those beautiful green eyes that you inherited from your father you're still single. - She sighs looking me straight in the eye.

Y/n: Mother we are not going to start with the same again.- I sigh gently separating her hands from my face and taking a step back.

Mary: I'm just saying that a grandson with your face would be a dream, it would be like remembering when you were just a newborn baby and everyone was drooling because of how precious you were. - she says with a small sad face.

Y/n: Mom no.- I flatly deny and she understands that the issue ends here.

Mary: Okay, if you're ready we can go now.- nods and starts walking towards the front door.

I just follow her silently, not wanting to continue the conversation and preferring silence to forced conversation. We put on some light coats, since we are in spring and although it is not very cold at night it cools down.

We decide to walk to the Dickinsons ' house , since it's only a five-minute walk from ours, and my mother knows I need to clear my mind right now.

She knows that one of the reasons I don't want to get married is because marriage means having children and I am unable to care for something as small and vulnerable as a baby.

I do not feel comfortable with the idea of being a mother and I had already expressed my feelings on the subject with my parents. They both understood it from the beginning and have given me all the necessary space about it. But every now and then my mom brings up the subject of grandchildren and how incredibly beautiful I was as a baby.

But there is something that my parents do not know and I have hidden it for many years: my attraction to my same gender. It's not that all women are attractive to me and I like them. But if I can appreciate the beauty of a woman and have I ever thought of a woman as more than a friend.

I have never acted on those feelings or thoughts, mostly because I don't feel prepared and am somewhat afraid of what my family might say about me. But most of all, I am afraid of my father's opinion and what he can do about those feelings.

I know those healing centers, where they practically torture women with the same tastes or thoughts as me. And I'm afraid that if I ever tell my parents, they'll put me in one of them.

Thank God, I am also attracted to men and a possible marriage in the future would not be something so unbearable. But I like a certain type of man, I like those who are sensitive and don't think that because they are men they are superior to women.

The good thing is that in the university there are many boys who think that and they are helping to make the possible admission of women in the university of my family a possibility. That's my kind of man, one who doesn't have a masculinity so fragile that supporting women can destroy it.

I snap out of my thoughts when my mom stops in front of a familiar door I haven't seen in a long time. I feel the palms of my hands sweat, as well as the unbridled beating of my heart and the thousands of thoughts running through my mind.

What if Emily and Sue don't want to see me again? What if they stopped writing to me because they no longer wanted to be my friends? What if Lavinia doesn't like the surprise of my visit? What if nothing is like before? What if everything has changed and we can no longer be friends? Do Sue and Emily still consider me their friend?

Mary: Daughter, calm down.- she whispers to me, holding my hand and leaving a comforting squeeze.

Y/n: I'm nervous.- I admit taking a deep breath. What if it's not the same? What if Emily and Sue don't want to be my friends again? What if...- I ask nonstop and she interrupts me.

Mary: Believe me that everything will be fine and you will feel that you haven't spent a single day apart.- She tells me comfortingly. –List ? - she asks after a few moments and I nod nervously.

My mother knocks softly on the door, letting the people in the house know that there is someone waiting at the door and that they need to open the door.

The door opens a few seconds later, revealing a slim-looking woman with orange-red hair and a cheerful smile. From the clothes I take for the fact that it is someone from the service and I confirm it when he speaks.

XX: Good evening, come in; Come in.- He invites us by opening the door more so that we can enter. -My name is Maggie and I am the assistant to the Dickinson family.- She introduces herself and I smile at her kindly.

Y/n: I am Y/n Harvard and this is my mother Mary.- I introduce ourselves and she smiles happily.

Maggie : I know who you are, Miss Lavinia doesn't stop talking about her best friend and the lady of the house talks about your family from time to time.- She informs us and smiled helplessly at what was said.

Mary: I'm sure that everything Mrs. Dickinson has told you is an exaggeration.- she plays it down with a smile full of kindness.

Jane: Nonsense.- laughs appearing from the dining room. -Mary long time friend.- she greets her hugging her while I take off my coat. -Oh by the beard, Y/n you are huge and beautiful.- she flatters me when she separates from my mother and walks towards me .

Y/n: Thank you Mrs. Dickinson .- I thank her a little embarrassed.

Jane: No lady, your mother and I were like sisters and my daughters and you too.- denies drawing me into a hug. -Besides the fact that I've known you since you were born and these thirteen years have made you a beautiful woman.- she assures me, separating from the hug and staring at my face.

Mary: Every day he looks more like his father.- she assures her and both women laugh.

Jane: She has the same eyes and the same nose as Arthur, but she has your smile, Mary.- She assures my mother. -But don't stand still at the entrance, Maggie picks up her coats and you come with me.- She orders and the three of us do what she tells us.

I barely take a step into the dining room when I hear a deafening scream and someone jumps on me knocking me to the ground. I just scream frightened by the spontaneity and the unexpected attack.

Mary: Now you know what it feels like.- she laughs with other people at the situation.

Lavinia: You're completely different but the same at the same time.- she says a few centimeters from my face and I smiled hugging her tightly against me.

Y/n: Vini!- I exclaim completely happy.

Lavinia: Y/nn !- she exclaims against me, wrapping her arms even tighter and squeezing my neck.

Edward: Up girls.- I hear the male voice of the patriarch and we both got up from the ground with huge smiles.

Lavinia: You've grown.- She points out with a huge smile and I laugh at the obviousness of her statement.

Y/n: It's been thirteen years and the last time we saw each other we were barely 10 and 9 years old.- I remember her rearranging the loose strands of my hair. -It is more than obvious that I have grown during those years, although you are still shorter than me.- I assure her mockingly, earning me a blow on the arm from her and a laugh from the rest of those present.

Lavinia: Idiot.- she mutters under her breath so that only I can hear her.

Edward: It's good to see you again little Harvard.- He greets me approaching and giving me a light hug.

Y/n: It's good to see you again Mr. Dickinson .- I greet him with a friendly smile.

Austin: Little troublemaker.- He greets me with a small amused laugh, walking towards me with his arms open and enclosing me in his arms.

Y/n: Hair nest.- I greet him, returning the hug with force.

Austin: Forget that name, please.- He asks me with a smile when we separate from the hug.

Y/n: You forget mine and then we'll talk.- i smile amused, moving my gaze to the woman on Austin's right side and from whom I haven't heard anything in years. -Hello.- I greet with a soft smile.

Sue : Hello Y/nn .- She greets me and somewhat insecurely hugs me by the neck.- I'm so sorry I haven't answered your letters.- she whispers to me and I can hear the regret in her voice.

Y/n: Vini explained it to me and I understood it calmly.- I assure her before separating from the hug. -Although an invitation to the wedding would have been a nice touch.- I say amused, winking at my friend and hitting Austin's arm lightly.

Austin: Ouch .- he complains rubbing his arm and his wife laughs about it. -I'm not going to go back to four against one, I warn you.- he threatens, pointing his finger at his wife and then me.

Sue : Or come on Austin, don't be exaggerated.- she plays down the importance laughing.

Austin: No, I refuse.- He assures shaking his head negatively. -I've been through those several years and I don't think I'll go through it again.- He throws us in the face with half-closed eyes.

Lavinia: You're exaggerated, we barely looked towards you. - She assures him amused and the three friends laugh.

Jane: Alright guys, sit down at the table.- he tells us and Vini grabs my arm pulling me towards a chair.

Lavinia: You will sit next to me.- She orders me and sits me on a chair and then sits on my left.

When I look up, I meet the hazel eyes that have given me so much curiosity for as long as I can remember and i smiled helplessly. She has changed a lot since she was twelve, but now she looks more mature and much more beautiful.

Y/n: Emily!- I exclaim happy to be able to see her again, but that happiness diminishes immediately when I realize her insecure look and the forced smile she gives me.

Emily: Hi Y/n.- She greets me softly and I frown in confusion at her attitude.

I think it's the first time she calls me by my name and not by the nickname the girls gave me. Out of the corner of my eye I see the look Vini is giving her sister and I can't help but feel like my best friend has lied to me for all these years.

Lavinia told me that her sister stopped answering my letters because she had entered a rebellious phase, in which she spent the day complaining and that was the reason for the absence of her letters. But clearly that was just an excuse for my friend, not to tell me that her sister was upset with me or that she didn't want to be my friend anymore.

I look at my best friend seriously, seeing the embarrassed look she gives me in response and confirming all my suspicions. I sigh sadly, looking down at the design on the plate in front of me.

Emily was the one I had the most in common with, we loved to read and philosophize about any nonsense. And that when we were barely 10 and 12 years old, but we liked to talk about something and think of all the possibilities.

Emily's mind has always been something that made me curious, she always saw things differently and seemed to me the most interesting thing that existed. Wherever she went, I followed and Vini and Sue followed us. You could say that I even admired her when we were young, even now that I know from her sister that she is writing poems and that it is something she is really passionate about.

Our parents used to joke that we were more like a married couple than a couple of friends. Because according to them we admired each other and always argued like an old couple. And when we played house that was the reality, Sue used to be the father of one of the two and Vini was the daughter.

You could say that to a certain extent, I realized that I was attracted to women because of Emily and the way I always looked forward to her letter the most. Before we moved I always wanted to be with her and when we moved I always thought about her, what she would be doing and if she would miss me as much as I miss her.

In fact, between Sue and her, she was the one that hurt me the most when they stopped writing to me and to this day I think it still hurts a little. She was the one to whom i wrote the most, since i tried to tell her everything in detail and still be able to philosophize with her by letter.

But I guess there came a point where she would get fed up with me, or realize that writing to me was a waste of time and she could spend that time on something more interesting. I suppose that the esteem that I had and continue to have for her is not reciprocal.

Edward: And tell us Y/n, do you have a husband waiting for you back in Cambridge or a suitor ? - He asks me and I get out of my thoughts.

Emily's POV

I have to admit that Y/n is a beautiful woman and clearly her personality can be appealing. But even seeing her face, I am not able to remember her and know who she really is. The worst thing is that I think she has noticed and I feel guilty.

When she saw me and greeted me with such happiness, I blocked myself for a second. I didn't know how I was supposed to greet her and I've tried to do it in the nicest way possible. But from the look my sister gave me, clearly I haven't been such a good actress and I only needed to see how the happiness disappeared from her face to confirm it.

The way her impossibly green eyes have lost a certain sparkle makes my stomach twist and the guilt inside me suffocate. I look at her ruefully, watching as she looks down at her plate with sadness and I think a hint of pain in her gaze.

Vine glares at me and I swallow hard with some fear. Lavinia can be a very kind, smiling and funny person, but there are certain things that make her angry and terribly scary.

Like the time I mocked her faith in energies and hid her obsidian for a bit of fun. It was the biggest mistake of my life and her disturbed face still haunts me to this day.

Edward: And tell us Y/n, do you have a husband waiting for you back in Cambridge or a suitor ? - he asks, drawing my attention and feeling a small known pressure in my chest.

I've only felt that pressure when it comes to Sue and her relationship with my brother. It hurts me to see her with him, when we were supposed to be together forever and she ended up marrying my brother. Now I have to see the woman I'm in love with with my brother, causing a pressure of jealousy, pain and sadness in my chest every time they act like a married couple or think of them together.

So I'm surprised to feel that familiar pressure, but what I'm surprised to feel is the response to Y/n and I don't understand the reason for this feeling. How can I feel this for someone I don't know and about whom I only know things that my sister has told me in the last hour.

Y/n: The truth is that no, Mr. Dickinson , I'm not married and I don't have any suitor.- She answers with a small smile and that surprises me.

That is to say, she is a beautiful woman and the man who does not see that is blind. Her dirty blonde hair is the perfect color, which brings out her slightly tanned skin and makes her green eyes stand out more .

In addition to the detailed and sharp features of her face, such as her strong, sharp and feminine jaw, her perfectly shaped nose, her thin but full lips, her perfectly shaped and full eyebrows; and her barely noticeable cheekbones.

That's why I say that you would have to be blind not to see the beauty in her and not stand in line to have a chance with a woman like Y/n.

Jane: I don't believe it, there has to be a man who catches your attention or who is behind you.- says my mother surprised.

Mary: Believe me, Jane, there are guys out there, only Y/n is not ready and is enjoying getting to know herself in solitude. - She comments with a calm smile and I open my eyes in surprise.

I've been asking for exactly the same thing, although it's really because I'm not attracted to men and I'd rather be single than marry one of them. But that she is enjoying being single and that her mother is so clearly on board with it surprises me.

Jane: And you and Arthur agree ? - question clearly impressed.

Mary: We agree with anything that makes our children happy and if that means having one of them single, we don't care.- She answers, shrugging her shoulders and giving her daughter a supportive smile.

Y/n: Besides that I'm focused on my studies right now.- she comments and we all stop serving ourselves the food impressed.

Edward: Do you study? - He asks her and she nods in response. - And what do you study? - asks curious of the answer.

Y/n: I don't really study anything specific, I attend the university classes that interest me the most and depending on that I attend more classes or not.- she answers without giving it much importance. -But what interests me most is science, more precisely chemistry and its use in medicine.- she comments, and everyone except her mother looks at her impressed.

Edward: An interesting field to tell the truth.- He nods impressed and I can see some respect in his eyes. – But at Harvard University they allow women to enter ? - confused question.

Y/n: Not officially, there are only a few daughters of people of money and power.- she answers finishing serving herself some beans. -But my father, together with the rector's office, are thinking of accepting women as official students.- she comments, and I can't help but feel a certain point of envy.

I wanted to go to a class on rashes and I had to dress up as a man with Sue in order to attend. But she can go with complete peace of mind, without having to dress up and go unnoticed by the rest of the students.

Edward: I didn't know that Arthur was considering the admission of women in his university. - comments surprised.

Mary: It's something very recent to tell the truth.- She assures him with a smile. –He have seen how much Y/n enjoys going to classes and sharing the things she has learned in class with the family, making him realize that there will be women with the same interests as her daughter and who want to learn more than she learns in her day to day.- she explains and I can't be more envious of having a father like that in a certain way.

Edward: What parents do for our children.- comments with some amusement and only adults laugh at it.

For the rest of dinner, I can only keep looking at the person in front of me and try to find some memory in which she appears. But I just end up frustrated not finding anything in my head.

Lavinia and Y/n spend the whole dinner talkinganimatedly, although I can see a certain sadness in our guest's aura and thatmakes me curious. I don't know what it is, but something in her calls me and inthe form of a magnet draws me to her.

I don't know what it is what draws me to her but I'll end up finding out.

[plutobutartsy]

omg stella btw i have two new ocs they’re called beatrice ardovini & atlas caron & here is their premise;

dria goes to work at a magic school in the us in her ‘season two’ after the main vsor plot. this school is run by beatrice & atlas, two very argumentative individuals who have extreme differences of opinions on the regular. dria’s aunt stella recommended her for the teaching job to the two of them, so she’s a little bit in nepo baby fashion closer to the two than the rest of the teachers. so, dria is the first to discover

that beatrice and atlas are, in fact, married

and they have two twin five year old daughters, lætitia and honorine.

they have an AMAZING marriage. like their workplace arguments are dumped at the door and then they get home and have the most insanely loving marriage and are incredible parents. then they get to school again and are fangs bared #evilface towards each other!!! their separation of work & home is truly unmatched.

but idk what i want them to look like do u have any ideas lmao beatrice is a fire mage & atlas is a dark mage :3 no prob if not my mind is just completely blank and i wanted to yell about them anyways

OMG I LOVEEE RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS LIKE THAT SQUEALING "hate each other in public, doting and affectionate in private" UHM. TOP 5 RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS EVER??

okay design ideas!!!

for beatrice you could really lean into her being a fire mage but in a way that isn't neccessarily just RED COLOUR PALLETTE!! RED RED RED!! you know

fire is dangerous so i associate angular shapes with it. this could translate into beatrice being rather thin and bony. sharp cheek bones, narrow nose, bony fingers etc. piercing gaze. thin, well defined eyebrows but!! fire is also strong obviously so i think her being really big and buff could work just as fine, since there's still a harshness to defined muscle.

now fire is also warm and nurturing and has kept humanity alive for millenia!! so there's a softness to it. this could be reflected by giving her big, soft eyes. maybe really voluminous hair. or make her muscles not quite as defined, maybe they're partly hidden under a layer of fat. so she'd still be super strong physically but her sillhouette would appear softer and combine both these aspects of fire.

uhmmm what else. fire is wild i suppose? so you could give her not only voluminous hair, but make it wild as well. tough to manage, hard to style. this could tie in with her being a (pressumably) stressed academic. you could have that wildness reflected in her style as well!! maybe have her wear punk or goth clothing? i think that would be a fun contrast to how most academic characters dress in media :3

for atlas maybe some name symbolism? i'm sure you know the greek myth. something something atlas forced to carry the sky (uranus) for all eternity to keep the earth (gaia) safe something something. so i think an earthy brown colour pallette with some light blues (sky -> air -> blue).

either like. a flowy wardrobe? clothes lightweight and long. thin scarves. long cardigans or coats or whatever. uhh long skirts and dresses maybe? or wide pants. FLOWY!! LIGHT!!

or OR

a really solid wardrobe? when i say solid i mean like. hiking gear lol. (because like. earth=rocks=mountains=hiking in my mind). secure shoes with thick soles but not heavy. maybe even boots. pants with lots of compartments. like cargo pants or sth similar. uhhh rain coat lmaooo. listen you could make atlas a walking fashion disaster i think that would be funny.

maybe you could even find a way to combine the two? or of course you could always go with more of a hippie style too? definitely ties into earth and sky

for body you could again go with somebody physically strong because that's just associate with earth (in my mind at least) but i'm not sure. for hair you could go either long and (i'm trying not to say flowy again but arrggghghgg). flowy. again, because air. lol. ORRRR idk if you have a race or ethnicity in mind yet but if you make atlas black you could have him wear it mostly natural to be reminiscient of clouds :3

yeah teehee this is what i came up with on the fly so if it sucks or doesn't make much sense! i will drop off the face of the earth directly into the sun (kidding ahahaha)

[sustainably-du-mortain]

face, motion and formal for all of them!

Thank you so much for the ask!!

Face - Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

I've already answered this one for Maddie and Côme here

Jonah

His face screams grumpy and intimidating. He either wears his dark brown hair up to his shoulders, tied in a half bun, or dishevelled when it's short. He oftens swings between both hairstyles: cutting his hair when he gets tired of having it long, or letting it grow back because he misses the long hair. He's got a beard, well it's between the beard and the stubble. He's also got quite the eyebags under his light brow eyes, the boy's tired. And he's frowning a lot, hence the intimidating look. His smile softens his whole face. He doesn't smile much, but he smirks a lot, so when he's really smiling it's quite the sight. He has one dimple in his right cheek that only shows when he smiles really wide. The thing that people notice the most upon meeting him is the scar splitting his left eyebrow. He got it from boxing and now he's got a permanent eyebrow slit that people either find cool or ridiculous.

Motion - How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Madeleine

Maddie is full of grace, like literally. Sometimes it looks like she's not even touching the floor when she walks. Her coordination and flexibility are unmatched. Comes from years of taekwondo and the dance classes she regularly takes. Talking about dancing she takes ballroom dancing classes, her favorites being: waltz, mambo and jive. Other than that she can also belly dance. So, she's quite at ease when it comes to movement. The only thing that kind of hinders that is her wardrobe. Well, it wasn't a problem before meeting UB, because she makes her own clothes, so she's learned how to make them adapt to her movements, but she wears a lot of long skirts and dresses, and they do not help when she gets in situations where she has to fight, which happens a little too regularly now that UB are in her life.

Côme

Côme has that constant kind of skipping to their gait. They cannot walk straight, and by that I mean that they're always talking to someone or looking around when they walk so they're often oriented towards the person they're talking to/the thing they're looking at and thus walk sideways, if they're not completely walking backwards. But they're really clumsy and often trip over their own feet. They're not really coordinated either, so they suck at dancing although they love it. Their clothes do not really hinder their movements because they wear oversized clothing a lot to hide their body shape. So their clothes are actually quite comfortable to move into, even with the situations they get in with UB.

Jonah

Out of the three Jonah is the one that doesn't really have any distinctive characteristic about his gait. But, he does walk fast. He's got no time to waste to get from point A to point B. He has a pretty good coordination due to years of boxing, but that coordination is useless when it comes to dancing because he's stiff as a stick. His clothes do hinder his movements a tad because he's always wearing jeans and we all know those things are not comfortable to move in. He's ripped quite a few in inconvenient spots while fighting.

Formal - What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

Madeleine

She's my fancy queen. She's always looking amazing, so when she has to dress up it's actually a bit of struggle. But she does like making fancy clothes, so when the occasion calls for it she pulls out her prettiest dresses. Here are some examples: (she loves flowery patterns)

Côme

Côme's idea of formal is suit pants with a shirt (and the occasional vest if they found a cool suit). And it's got to have bright colors and cool patterns and textured fabric. They'll often choose one colors and try to do a complete look with that color. Examples: (I couldn't find a good pic but they def have a holographic suit)

Jonah

Jonah's formal look is pretty simple: it's a two piece suit. It's pretty standard but it gives him just the amount of confidence he needs. He'll sometimes go for a three piece if the occasion calls for it. Although he always stays within a pretty standard range of colors: black, blue, the eventual green. He also loves those little things that you clip onto the collar of a shirt (idk what they're called) Some examples:

Character design asks

[lieutenant-amuel]

So, I’ve been thinking about my OCs quite a lot recently, so I’ve decided to make another “how my characters look like” post. I’ve introduced a few new characters plus some of the old ones have appeared more than once, so I’ve thought it would make sense to visualize them (this is actually super helpful when writing, too, because writing characters when you know how they look like is somehow easier). The first post is here.

I used the same picrews as before because I like them and it’s quite simple to create character designs with them. For most of them - this one, and this one for Ángel’s dad.

Ximena Robledo.

Ximena has dark brown hair, green eyes, and dark skin. She has a protruding chin, wide cheekbones, aquiline nose, so her facial features are kinda large. She’s in her forties and has wrinkles, specifically around the corners of her mouth and on a forehead (I just can’t use two different types of wrinkles at the same time in this picrew akjdjfk).

She’s plump and fairly short (~162 cm). She also has relatively wide shoulders, which makes her an inverted triangle.

Once again I’m not sure about the clothes preferences but I can imagine her being quite stylish. She also loves jewelry, especially some big items.

Imelda Hierro.

Imelda has dark brown hair and olive skin. She also has heterochromia: her right eye is brown and her left eye is green (I mentioned it in the seventeenth chapter, and to be honest, there’s not reason why I made it, I just thought it was cool). She has a square jaw, a humped nose, so her features are kinda sharp. She also prefers having her hair in a ponytail.

Her height is average (~165 cm). I have no idea if this term exists in English but she also has broad bones (big boned?), so you wouldn’t call her either thin nor plump, she’s rather athletic and large if I can say so if any of you is familiar with Kibbe, she resembles Flamboyant Natural

In clothes she probably prefers minimalism and of course she can’t wear it when she fences but she also has a butterfly brooch (which is such an important detail aaaaaaaaa).

Marta Expósito.

Marta has brown wavy hair (this is the perfect hairstyle, just 100% how I imagined it), brown eyes, and dark skin. Overall she has thin and delicate facial features (which makes her similar to Emilio aksjmdkf I swear it happened unintentionally, they’re not related in any way).

Marta is shorter than Imelda (~163 cm), but she still looks taller because, unlike Imelda, she always wears high heels. She has a thin straight silhouette (narrow shoulders, no super visible curves).

When it comes to clothes, she prefers something feminine but you know without being too “girly” - rather elegant and classy.

(I know I barely described her, but really, this picrew is perfect, I don’t have anything more to add).

Hendrik Aakster.

Hendrik (for absolutely no reason I feel awkward referring to my “parent characters” by their names, but okay I’ll try to overcome it) has black hair, green eyes, and light skin.

His height is a bit under the average (~168 cm), his silhouette is straight, and since I already started using this phrase here, he’s big boned as he has a wide straight silhouette (I heard some people calling men like him “a wardrobe” in my language but I don’t think I can say it in English x))

In clothes he’s classy and elegant.

Cornelia Aakster.

Cornelia has dark blue eyes, brown hair, and light skin. Frida generally takes a lot after her mom, just her features are sharper due to her age (she has high cheekbones, a humped nose, and a more prominent chin).

She’s a bit taller than her husband (170 cm; and she wears heels) and has a thin straight silhouette (at this point Frida looks a bit larger, as her bones are wider. Father’s genes after all).

She’s a fashion designer, so she’s clearly stylish and I can imagine her loving jewelry and wearing make-up.

Lucas Suarez.

Lucas has dark brown eyes, brown hair, and dark skin as for more details, just look at him, akhandkjf I really don’t know what to say about him, he’s just some man and I created his design on the spot :’)

Anyway, the thing I’ll add is that he’s tall and slim (~184 cm; Ángel takes after him at this point, but generally he resembles his mother a lot more just don’t tell Lucas). When it comes to clothes, he’s pretty traditional, although he actually was a lot more flashy in his youth.

Maximiliano Enríquez.

First of all, ignore what he and other boys of Gabe’s patrol wear. I tried to make it look similar to the scout uniform but I obviously didn’t succeed.

Second of all, all characters’ appearances below (and Max as well) were born as a result of me playing around in this picrew, so their descriptions are even more brief than the previous ones. I’ll just make little notes on their body types, so you can understand how tall they are in comparison to (adult) Gabe.

Max is shorter than Gabe (~178 cm) and has pretty average body type, not muscular nor skinny, as he’s never been into sports that much. He’s just some healthy (mentally and physically) guy.

Alberto Franco.

Alberto is the tallest among the guys in his patrol (~186 cm), and he’s skinny. He’s a guy of culture after all, he’ll faint after like three minutes of carrying something heavy (might or might not be joking).

And he 100% wears some jewelry items, including ring(s), that clearly prevents him from making a fire or anything, and he might use it as an excuse for not doing the dirty work (but he doesn’t really have a choice because Max will never let him loaf around).

Samuel Cisneros.

Samu is shorter than Gabe (~176 cm), big boned, and plump (so he can give the warmest and tightest hugs :3)

Oscar Téllez.

Oscar is the shortest in his patrol (~170 cm), and just kill me, I don’t know how to describe body types he’s kinda similar to Frida’s dad when it comes to the build: he’s not plump, like Samuel, but he is big-boned and looks wider than Max and Alberto (and kinda Gabe as well, but we all know that Gabe is athletic, so it’s hard to compare them).

Jaime Bernal.

(yes, his first name is Jaime. Yes, I know I still haven’t stated it in my fic, but there’s gonna be a character calling him Jaime someday, I swear)

First of all, I want to make a little note: Jaime is 58 years old and according to the Internet, people of this age are considered “middle-aged”, which I stated in the latest chapter when I introduced him. I’m saying it just in order to avoid confusion, like “why is his hair grey if he’s middle-aged” because he’s had a hard life

Jaime’s height is pretty average (~180 cm; he was taller when he was younger) and due to the military lifestyle, he’s athletic which he’s kept up to his current age (he’s actually quite similar to Gabe, to our Gabe we see in the show)

He wears an emerald brooch that he’s gotten from someone dear to him in the past, and yes, his left arm is prosthetic.

That’s it!

[courtofmatchups]

Heya, I believe you may actually know me from Instagram as I think we are mutuals :)

Anyways, I wanted to see if you were okay with giving me a matchup !!

So my name is Lilith, I’m bi but for this I’d rather be matched with one of the boys, and I use she/her pronouns (but I don’t overly mind they/them pronouns either.) I’m a little shy and touch starved, I can be easily frightened by sharp and harsh behaviour, and I’m relatively fragile and sensitive to small things too. I don’t like loud or sudden noises or movements, as I can be frightened by those as well. I’m quite an introvert and stay away from the crowd, and find a lot of peace in my own company. If I get close to someone I can be clingy or over protective, but I keep that to myself because I find it an annoying trait of mine.

I’m creative and enjoy things like art, I ride horses and love being around them too, and I absolutely adore cats. I have three cats myself and a dog, but I’m not that fond of my dog because he’s a little too loud for me sometimes.

I’m polite to everyone I talk to, but I’m not that talkative in the first stages because I won’t be comfortable yet. I won’t ever be rude to anyone unless I can get extremely angry, but I don’t do much more than snap back a little. Keep in mind this is an extremely rare occurrence, I don’t really feel angry like that. When I’m comfortable talking to someone, I talk a lot and can tend to ramble. However I lose confidence quickly if they don’t seem interested, and I will go quiet again. I’m pretty much a perfectionist and always want to do my best, or how things should be in my head. I can get upset if they don’t turn out how I thought they would. To add onto that I also find I’m a people pleaser, and want others’ approval.

I’m a pretty boring girl, I don’t hang around with people and go out all the time like most others my age do, I’m happy to stay home and listen to music or draw. I’m a fan of the whole dark academia or Victorian/gothic/vampire aesthetic, this I based my ocs on.

I don’t tend to look positively on things because they often do go wrong in my case, which gives me a pessimistic view on most things. However whenever my friends are upset and need comfort, I always come up with a optimistic result for them.

As for fashion, I like things like cargo pants with oversized T shirts. I wear a lot of jewellery such as rings and necklaces, or maybe bracelets too. I also like nature-like colours for example green, brown or maybe black too. Occasionally also some greys and whites. I also do like certain types of Lolita fashion, but I don’t think I’d actually wear anything like that in real life.

I have quite a sarcastic sense of humour, and I tend to communicate a lot through dry sarcasm. But only really if I’m comfortable enough to do so. I also really like wearing perfume, and it’s refreshing to think I smell nice. I don’t want to leave the house without putting on some sort of perfume.

I have a determination to dye my hair a dark/deep red later in the summer, and I feel as though that would suit me.

So to conclude, some things I like are: cats, horses, any kind of calming animal to be around, art and drawing, history, salty things, hot chocolate and chocolate milk, baking, writing, music, snow, rain, thunderstorms, cold weather, Viennese whirls, tea, anything nostalgic, stuffed animals, calm people

Dislikes: loud or jumpy dogs, coffee, mint, anything spicy or too sweet or sour (can’t stand the taste), mornings, hot weather, spiders and bugs, uncertainty, most people, especially boisterous ones, disapproval from others

I believe that’s some basic stuff about me, and I hope this helps you find someone ^^

It seems to me that you have captured the heart of...

The Loyal Maladroit:

Tino Maes

(A/N: when I say this has been sitting in my inbox forever 💀)

Hear me out: Tino would be the most understanding of you since he's pretty experienced with highly sensitive people (*couch*Lynt*cough*). He quite understands your dislike of loud noises and sudden movements (he's seen how stress-inducing that shit is firsthand fuck you Daan), so he tries to keep those to a minimum. If he does let that slip when he panics, he will apologize to you afterward when he calms down.

You weren't that talkative the first time the two of you met, but as time passed, you noticed he went out of his way to help you in any way he could. You were often alone, so he would strike up a conversation, and if those mad fangirls were ever harassing you (let's be honest, those mfs won't leave anyone be), he would de-escalate the situation for you. At first, it came from the base-level kindness in his heart, but as he came to know you more, he couldn't help but be curious about you. At least subconsciously, someone who makes themselves smaller has quite a lot more to their personality than they let on. In turn, you were becoming more attached to him too. Understandable since he genuinely seemed interested in you. And he is. He appreciates you for your personality and interests

As for your hobbies, he would be very fascinated by them. I headcanon that the members of the House of Maes should have some iota of an interest in art, but even without that, he would be interested in the art you make. I highly doubt he would tire of hearing you ramble about the things that interest you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lilith, are you here?" Tino calls from outside your chamber

"Yeah, come in," you reply

Tino came in with two mugs of hot chocolate looking quite worried. He told you about the magical thunderstorm that would come in about half an hour. He was a bit surprised to know you actually enjoy them, despite your aversion to loud noises. He supposes there is just something calming about relaxing in someplace cozy as a thunderstorm went on outside. He sat down next to you, putting the mugs of hot chocolate on the nightstand.

"Pardon me if I'm being intrusive, but you seem a little bit down today. Would you like to talk about it?" You told him that this week hasn't been all that good. You've been drained as hell, but you still had to go on with your work for the week. Almost everything you did for either your friends or for schoolwork wasn't up to your normal standard. And just today you nearly failed a potion, and Toa seemed disappointed. Logically, you knew that Toa understands that this rarely happens, but still, that incident stung.

Huh. So this is how you feel whenever Tino worries that he's disappointed someone. You've been there for him whenever he felt down and he was there for you, and now will be no different.

"Thank you for telling me, Lilith," he said. "You must know that I commend you for all the hard work you do. I suppose coming here with the mugs of hot chocolate was a good idea."

You smiled as you took a mug and snuggled with him. He would stay there holding you as long as you like

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[actorfrustration]

The Resistance: Fueled by Coffee

TITLE: The Resistance: Fueled by Coffee PAIRING: Oscar/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Oscar has a funny way of flirting with Annie: through coffee.

[A/N - Been a while, huh?]

They were all ready to go on set. There was just one little problem.

Oscar was late.

“Find out where Oscar is! J.J. is starting to get impatient!” Alexa, Annie’s boss, snapped at her.

Annie nodded quickly and pulled out her cellphone, dialing Oscar’s number.

Just as it started ringing, Oscar sauntered in with a drink holder in his hand.

“Oscar! Thank god!” Annie said.

“Sorry, querida. The line was around the block.” He held a coffee out to her. “Just how you like it.”

Annie blushed and took it from him. “You know, normally it’s the intern’s job to get the coffee.”

“Well maybe I just like seeing the adorable blush on your face.”

Annie blushed even brighter. “They need you in costume and makeup.”

Oscar gave her a wink. “On my way.”

“When are you two gonna get together?”

Annie jumped and nearly spilled her coffee. “Daisy! What have I told you about sneaking up on me!”

The British actress laughed.

“I swear to god. It’s like you really do have the Force,” Annie said.

“If I did, I would Force-push you and Oscar together.”

“Daisy, he doesn’t like me like that.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Please. He goes out of his way to make sure you have a good day. Whether that means having lunch with you or bringing you little treats. That man is in love with you.”

“He is not! He’s over a decade older than me!”

Daisy shrugged her shoulders. “So? Lots of people fall in love with people older or younger than themselves.”

“He has a kid, Daisy!”

“You love kids!”

“He…”

Daisy put a finger on Annie’s lips. “Stop making excuses. Everyone can tell you’re head over heels for each other.”

Oscar walked out of costume and makeup in what Annie called his “Han Solo” outfit. Khaki pants, brown boots, a tan shirt, a bandolier, leather gloves, and a scarf.

Except he wasn’t wearing the scarf yet and he had the buttons of his shirt undone so she could see the skin of his neck. Her eyes followed him as he walked on set.

“If you’re done eye-fucking my co-star…” Daisy said.

Annie’s eyes went wide. “Daisy!”

“What? You are?”

Annie covered her flaming cheeks with her hands. “Oh my god! Get on set before J.J. and Alexa kill me!”

Daisy chuckled and sipped on her Starbucks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next few days, Oscar walked in with coffee from Starbucks.

But every day, there was something different written on her lid that corresponded with her coffee for the day.

One day, it was a cold brew with “You’re brew-tiful.”

Another it was a caramel macchiato “You mocha me very happy!”

Her black coffee had “We were meant to bean together.”

Annie wondered if he was coming up with these himself or looking them up on the internet. Either way, she liked his subtle, if not funny, way of flirting.

Eventually, he graduated from written notes to jokes. “What do beans say to their Valentines?” he asked.

Annie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You keep me grounded.”

Some days the jokes were funny and clever and others weren’t.

“What do you call a sad cup of coffee?”

“No idea.”

“A depresso.”

“That’s not funny, Oscar.”

“Well I didn’t come up with it, princessa.”

Annie wanted to surprise Oscar one day, so she ran to Starbucks while he was filming with Carrie and some other actors. She walked in as they were finishing and Oscar walked over to her.

His dark curls were mussed like he had been running his hand through his hair.

She handed him the coffee and said, “I…I found a joke you might like.”

Oscar sipped the coffee. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…let me here it then.”

“What’s Fat, Slimy, and Drinks a lot of Coffee?”

Oscar thought about it for a second. “I genuinely have no idea.”

“Java the Hut.”

There was a beat of silence before Oscar started laughing. “God, that’s so bad!”

“I thought it was appropriate. You know, seeing as you’re in Star Wars.”

Oscar set his coffee down and cupped Annie’s cheek in his hand. “I have one for you. How do cups greet each other?”

Annie opened her mouth to answer when Oscar kissed her.

“With mugs and kisses. Words cannot espresso how much you bean to me.”

“Oscar…”

“It’s hard for me to expresso my feelings for you.”

“Oh my god! Stop!”

“I like you a latte.”

Annie shook her head and laughed. “Shut-up and kiss me Isaac.”

Oscar smiled and leaned down to kiss her.