#and this will probably end up just being a fleeting consideration in my mind anyways

[quibbs126]

For some reason I want to see someone make their own Transformers designs, but specifically from the perspective of someone who makes toys/action figures

So I guess what I’m saying is, designs that are first and foremost about making them feasible as actual toys that transform into vehicles. The most toyetic designs, I think is the term

That’s not to say people who are 2D artists first don’t have cool designs or anything, or that they shouldn’t make designs, it’s just that I also know someone like myself would not take into consideration how the whole transforming process would feasibly work in my hypothetical designs, and I want to know what it would look like from the perspective of someone who would

I also guess that’s how a good number of the actual designs across continuities were made, particularly in g1, but I don’t mean as like a legitimate project/toyline, just something done by someone for fun

Does any of this make sense? To anyone else but me? I don’t think I explained myself that well

[detective-and-dreamer]

Dealer's choice for Ockham, if you'd like? <3

[I've put some notes on this one! The tags would've been a mile long otherwise.]

23. a kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances (the substance in question being neathbow fuckery)

It wasn't the worst party Emory had ever been dragged to; they didn't even mind that Lenora had wandered off partway through the evening. Nocturnal artists often wanted to hear hunting stories, though he was sure they wished he'd speak of it a bit more poetically. When they tired of it, they were happy to leave him to stand near the wall with a glass of wine. The decor, however, was a bit of an issue - not something they would normally care much about, but the skeleton someone had set up as a centerpiece made no fucking sense. It was made up of three, no, four different zee-beasts cobbled together into a completely implausible monstrosity. He glared at the place where a fin didn't even attempt to connect properly to the frame. Artistic liberty was one thing, but they thought it should at least look like the creator had given a damn.

...If this was what they were focused on, they needed to make this their last drink. Gods forbid he start trying to fix the thing. Before they could give it any further consideration, though, they were interrupted by Lenora's sudden return. She was accompanied by a redhead in a deep green dress and...a wave of flirtatious joy?

"Je vais vous présenter - " whatever that meant, it was directed solely to the person beside her - "Emory, dear, this is Ockham; I fear I've essentially been holding her captive for language practise instead of making introductions to anyone else." She gestured to them, and they noted her gaze was far less sharp than usual. "This is my friend, Captain Emory Hayes."

"Nice to meet you." Ockham held out her (Emory would have guessed something neutral, but who were they to argue?) hand. He felt a hint of curiosity and wondered what Lenora had been saying about him.

This wasn't a state of mind that should have been possible without physical contact or conscious will. The only exception they had ever encountered was Parabolan influence of some kind. Yet Ockham's own eyes seemed normal, and she bore no other obvious signs of possession; just the opposite, in fact. There were flickers of reptilian instinct, now that he could pick up on such things, but they felt buried in the way a person's thoughts normally would when they weren't in full control of themselves.

Was there a polite way to ask are you from a different realm, and if so, how the fuck did you get here? Probably not. Between the nearly palpable emotional aura and the apocyanic haze encroaching on his vision, Emory could barely even think of a normal introduction.

And so, before his mind could catch up with his actions, he brought Ockham's hand up for a kiss rather than the handshake he had planned. They felt the shallow, fleeting memories skin held; the touches of others, the brush of fabric. Lenora raised an eyebrow, and he knew he was never going to hear the end of her teasing once they were alone. Somehow they doubted an explanation would help. Teratomancy made me do it? Technically, this is your fault? No, it would only encourage her.

"...It's nice to meet you, too." he said, resigning himself to his fate.

- I wanted to explore what viric would do to Emory. What I decided is that it brings on a version of the "half-dreaming" mental state he enters for teratomancy, thus making him more emotionally perceptive/receptive. They were able to catch themselves before slipping into an actual trance, though, especially since there wasn't a completely overwhelming amount of input.

- They can, in fact, tell what Ockham should look like! Sort of, anyway. It's not the same as what you'd see through cosmogone lenses. Rather than a vivid, current appearance, they're getting an impression from hishertheir own memories. Since Ockham's been in stasis for so long, though, there's probably not a lot of discernible difference. Maybe some of the details are hazy or slightly off, since you can't really conjure up a perfect image of yourself without looking? If someone else who knew was nearby, it would probably help. I'm also not sure exactly what he would remember once he'd left hishertheir presence and the effect was no longer there.

- I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be able to pick up some memories from skin - it is an organ, after all. I think it probably doesn't hold information for quite as long, though. Also, most of it is just things like "this area was touched by someone recently and this is how they felt about it" or "the pain of getting a scrape that has since healed."

- Nora knows multiple languages. I don't, unfortunately, otherwise I would have given them more dialogue together instead of having her switch back halfway through a sentence so she could include Emory. She was thrilled to have an excuse to practice, though. Also, Ockham could probably get a two for one deal here if heshethey tried; she's pretty easy to get kisses from.

[imthepointe]

We’re Not Really Strangers

Jay’s not really sure why Cole has always been so touchy with him, but he decides to welcome the physical contact- to an extent. And so he resigns himself to a great and terrible boundary of friendly intimacy with his best friend; more than strangers but never more than friends, perhaps destined for something greater.

In which Jay is one-hundred percent, entirely straight.

a/n: 4302 words, tw for internalized homophobia

When Jay first met Cole, he first noticed his arms. His really nice, lean, smooth arms. They were unusually buff for a thirteen-year-old, and reflected years of mountain climbing and muscle building. The very next thing he thought was what? because that was a weird thing to notice in a guy.

In his reckless adolescence, the little lightning ninja chalked this first and silent observation up to the fact that pre-teens shouldn’t be so buff and that it was only natural for him to notice Cole’s inherent, smoulder-y attractiveness.

Because Jay liked girls. He liked their skin, their long hair, and…

It doesn’t matter. Jay liked girls, exclusively.

Five years later Jay can’t imagine a life without Cole. He’s his partner in fighting, combat, and training, but also in just day-to-day life. Their conversations range from fighting about which flavor of ramen is best to more serious topics such as relationships...with family.

Jay remembered when Cole had first opened up to him about losing his mother and his rocky relationship with his father. He had looked down, until finally, Jay scooted just a little bit closer to him. His side pressed into Cole’s, and the earth ninja crumbled, allowing himself to be emotional and sincere. And when it was all over, Cole put his hands on Jay’s and thanked him; Jay ignored the warmth in his chest, attributing it to the vulnerability of the conversation and the delicacy of the talk.

But Cole’s physical presence persisted. It started during gaming nights, when the two were so close they were practically on top of one another, their thighs touching and oh god Cole’s bicep flexing against Jay’s arm as he gripped the game controller tighter.

Jay decided he didn’t mind the contact and allowed Cole to continue being close.

During training, Cole would not miss any opportunity to help Jay stand from the ground, extending hand to help him up and gently pulling the blue ninja to his feet. During physical combat training, Cole would win- and rather it was because Jay liked when Cole would swiftly pin him down to the ground or simply because the earth ninja was a better fighter than he, Jay wasn’t sure.

As they were sitting for dinner, Cole’s hand would brush against Jay’s. It was fleeting and probably an accident.

This was the problem: Jay found himself thinking about Cole’s muscles much more than he thought about kissing nameless girls. But he maintained that it was only because Cole was his best friend and naturally a pretty handsy guy- not to mention he does have stellar muscles, anyway, so it was only natural that they were noticeable to Jay.

But this resolve crumbled one hot summer day during training. They were both seventeen.

“You all have such cool places to keep your weapons,” Jay complained. Kai, Zane, Cole, Jay, and Lloyd were all out in the monastery’s courtyard, taking a small break from the morning’s rigorous training.

“Do we?” Zane asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Jay said, dragging the “s” sound. “I just have to carry my nunchucks.”

Kai suggested he get a belt that would hold them, and Jay liked that idea, until the belt finally came.

Kai had made it for him. Jay was grateful- he really was- but this was by god the ugliest thing he had ever laid eyes on. Not to mention it weighed about as much as he did, and it hardly even was able to hold his nunchucks.

But as to not disappoint the fire ninja, he tried to put it on. Tried. Unfortunately- or perhaps fortunately, Jay’s not sure- Kai was also not an expert in design and practical effectiveness.

“Kai, this buckles in the back,” Jay said. “I can’t get it on.” Internally, Jay breathed a sigh of relief. At least he for sure didn’t have to put the belt on now.

But when Cole offered to help him put the belt on, he quickly accepted.

So Cole took the belt and knelt down beside the blue ninja, buckling the buckle (in the back!) with gentleness and care. All throughout practice, Jay found himself annoyed by the cumbersome feeling of the belt, even if he did have a place to store his nunchucks. But, the next day, when Cole offered to help him put the belt on again, Jay said yes before his mind could catch up.

Jay was uncomfortably comfortable with it all. When he should be trying to focus on training, all he can think about was Cole’s warm and calloused hands gently touching his hips, steadying them to buckle his stupid little nunchuck belt.

The third night after the belt incident, the lightning ninja was in his room, mentally reprimanding himself for stewing over Cole’s likely innocent acts of kindness- not because he wasn’t grateful for Cole’s help and generosity, he really was, but because he should be used to Cole’s touchiness by now.

And that was that. Cole has always been a little bit more physical in his...affections, and had no issue giving gentle touches and reassuring looks to anyone. That was right, Jay supposed. It didn’t matter because the entire situation was just Cole being the nice guy that he was. If it had been Zane with a belt fiasco, the earth ninja wouldn’t have hesitated to help him clasp the buckle either. Jay wasn’t even sure why he was so worked up about the whole thing anyways.

He dismissed the thought. Plus, no matter how physical Cole was, it didn’t matter, because Jay liked girls anyways. He really liked Nya, who, despite being the only girl he had ever had some sort of connection with beside his mother, seemed to like him too.

So he drifted off to sleep, dreaming about kissing her... but everytime he closed his eyes and conjured up this mental picture, she didn’t have a face.

---

A week later, after dinner, Jay and Cole were alone playing some game when the black ninja set his controller down and assumed an aura of stoic-ness about him.

“What’s up?” Jay asked.

“I’m bisexual,” Cole responded.

Jay’s mouth hung wide for a moment, before he mustered a smile and a “cool!” and cracking some stupid joke like leave it to you to overachieve. But he had also noticed the strength and vulnerability of Cole’s tone. When he came out then, he might have been scared, but he wasn’t afraid. Jay even remembered finding it admirable how relaxed Cole remained.

And then the moment was over, ending with Cole muttering “just wanted to let you know.” Jay didn’t mind, and they resumed gaming.

Minutes later, the door opened to reveal Kai, Lloyd, Zane, and Nya.

“C’mon, lovebirds, Wu wants us to try out some new training technique. He said-”

“Lovebirds? That’s a new one, Kai,” Cole interrupted, a light and playful smile on his face. He seemed to be handling Kai’s words with considerably more lightheartedness, either not putting more than two cents to Kai’s words or just not caring regardless.  

But Jay cared, a lot. He jumped from the couch and met Kai’s eyes.

“And at least I’m straight!” Jay shouted in a valiant display of defense, perhaps more as a reminder to himself than the others. He felt his cheeks burn and his stomach twist; he regretted saying that almost immediately.

(Jay would spend the next week regretting his reaction, loathing himself for his intonation and word choice. Soon, though, the regret turned into a serious analysis of why he cared so much about Kai’s tease, but this rhetorical question stumped even Jay’s genius. Because- in that moment- Jay wanted whatever it was Kai thought he and Cole were.

The lightning ninja came to the conclusion that he and Cole were naturally going to be drawn to spend time together, because obviously. They were best friends, and Jay couldn’t imagine not spending time alone with the earth ninja. It’s what kept their friendship so strong.)

“Okay, uh,” Kai stammered, glancing to the side, as if he were trying to avoid something. “It was a joke. I was kidding.”

Nya scoffed. “Let’s just go,” she said, turning to leave. Lloyd and Zane followed her path in suit, presumably towards the monastery’s courtyard to do whatever it was Wu wanted them to do. Then Kai inhaled quickly and turned, and Jay made a move to follow, but something stopped him.

He spared a final glance back at Cole, who he expected to still have a kind expression. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, and cheeks twinged ever so slightly pink.

Jay shook his head and left him alone.

They didn’t practice together that night; Jay practiced with Nya and left Cole alone with Lloyd. Afterwards, everyone had gone inside to shower and head to bed, save for he and Nya.

“Hey,” she called. “Thank you for practicing with me tonight.” Jay’s shoulders stiffened.

Surely it was at least 11 at night by now, completely dark outside. He could hardly see Nya standing directly in front of him.

“You’re welcome. I…” he trailed off, trying to think of something he should say. “I really wanted to. And you’re a good partner.”

“Yeah?”

Jay smiled. “Yeah.”

Then their hands brushed. It was silent for a moment, the only sound the small, labored breaths coming from the two ninjas. They were close, and Jay was elated. This was exactly how it was supposed to happen. This is always how it happened in the books he read or the shows he watched.

Then Nya smiled, and Jay smiled, and then he kissed her.

He supposed it was nice. Even though he couldn’t really see her, he liked kissing Nya. He had thought about it for quite some time. They pulled apart, and Jay looked at her once more, as if he had just seen her in this light for the very first time.

“Thanks again, Jay,” she whispered. The water ninja turned to head inside, but he stopped her, catching her hand.

“Nya,” he said, and it sounded more like a question than a statement. “I like you. I really like you.”

“But you wish I was Cole?”

Jay felt his heart drop and face flush, before he was spitting defenses left and right. That was not what he was expecting after he kissed the girl of his dreams.

Nya didn’t know what he felt. How could she? But as Jay almost expected himself to be angry with her, he wasn’t. His heart began to rapidly beat, and suddenly he wanted to leave this conversation so badly he probably would have faced a djinn again if it meant he could wish this all away.  

“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” she laughed. Her smile was kind. “You two hold hands all the time. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You just think you like me.” She took his hand, despite the fact that it was shaky and sweaty from anxiety.

“Listen to me, Jay. Take a deep breath.”

The lightning ninja almost protested, but remained silent, deciding anything he said might just dig himself deeper. “I think you’re great,” Nya began. “But…” she looked off in the distance, probably at the mountains far away. “Trust me. Think about it, and you can talk to me later if you want. Truth is, Jay, I love you, and care for you. And I’m observant.” She let go of his hand, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and went inside the monastery, leaving him alone.

He had one single, fleeting, yet distinct thought as he watched her turn away: Nya’s never been wrong before.

---

Somewhere between denial and anger and bargaining and depression there was Jay. Cole- or, at least, the thought of him- started to keep him up at night, in a real bad way, because every time he closed his eyes he saw him. It was like a rhythm known only to him, the way Jay would push the earth ninja as far away as possible from him during the day but at night wish he was closer than ever.

He was repelling Cole, ever since that night, that terrible, terrible night, when Cole trusted him and when Nya stepped out of her place. He didn’t want to, though. Still, Jay took no initiative to restore their intimacy they once had, even though his heart ached for it.

Of course, though, nothing gold can stay; as the weekly movie night rolled around, he found himself sitting next to the black ninja on the couch, maybe just a little too close for comfort.

But the chosen movie is boring. He was looking at the screen, yes, but his mind was somewhere else- maybe on Cole, whose head was nearly resting on his shoulder, asleep soundly and taking in small, shallow breaths; maybe it was on Nya, who was watching the movie, seemingly very interested in whatever the plot was but probably not really; or Kai, Lloyd, Zane, and Pixal, the latter of which were holding hands and smiling, and Kai and Lloyd fixated on the movie.

See, that was the thing about relationships Jay never really understood. How did Zane know he liked Pixal? Zane was a robot. How did he ever fall for her? Was it human nature, or lack thereof? Or something more innate?

“I believe the term for it is ‘pansexuality,’’' Zane had once said, a couple months ago. “I love Pixal because of who they are. I do not think it is in my coding to see...” he paused, thinking. “...gender. I simply love her regardless, and they love me. I firmly believe that’s what matters most.”

Jay had liked that. Maybe he could be comfortable with that, but his eyes drooped from fatigue before he could stew over it any more.

When he finally awoke, he and Cole had shifted considerably. Everyone else was gone- the movie probably long over- but Cole was nearly on top of him, curled into his side, his face relaxed and soft from sleep. His hair is brushed over onto his face in soft waves, his eyelashes fluttering, mouth slightly open.

Surely Jay must be half-asleep, because he feels the urge to continue dozing like that, his arms wrapped around Cole and at ease in his comfortable presence. But there’s something else, too: a warning. His mind was screaming at him, telling him that this was too close, that friends don’t touch like this. Sure, he and Cole had always displayed their friendship in more physically intimate ways, but this was too far…

He pried himself out of Cole’s arms, stumbling off the couch.

“Jay…?”

Cole had sat up from his position, eyes weary and dreamy. Jay just smiled, ignoring the flushing panic and embarrassment- oh, god- burning bright. “It’s late,” he said. “Go to your room and sleep.”

He did. And Jay somehow managed to make it back to his room, too, despite nearly falling over into Cole’s arms multiple times from the sheer self-humiliation of it all.

---

It went like this: Jay spent half of the next day lying to himself, that no, he did not want to be in a relationship with his best friend who happens to be a guy, and then the later half realizing that he had been lying to himself for much, much longer than a day.

He and Cole weren’t just friends. They weren’t acquaintances, but for some reason, it felt like they were strangers all over again. If they were taken back to the very first day they met- brand new faces, a fresh start- would things have gone differently now that Jay...knew?

He didn’t want to really be lovesick strangers. He wanted something forever. The most terrifying part- besides maybe Nya being right- was that his entire being was yearning for a relationship with Cole.

His mind was racing all through dinner that night, meaning he had nothing to say. It had been an easy day, no missions, just lazing around, and Jay hated it, because he needed something to preoccupy himself with. Nya spared him a few loving glances with a glint of mischievousness in her eye, but otherwise, no one seemed to notice his unusual silence.

After dinner, Jay busied himself; he didn’t think a single thing when he saw Nya tell Cole something, and then when Cole precariously disappeared out of the monastery, and after dinner was over, he volunteered to clean the kitchen. Zane had thanked him, and Jay was alone to wipe down the counters and do the dishes.

Methodical and logical- cleaning was a matter of the brain, not the heart, and thank the FSM for it. The blue ninja’s heart was growing tired. He cleaned until the kitchen was spotless, then retreated to his bedroom.

It was too cramped. Everywhere reminded him of Cole, of Nya; the picture on his nightstand, the one on his desk, where he could see his hand wrapped loosely around Cole’s pinky finger. He needed out, and he needed out fast, and he just needed a place to collect his thoughts and get some fresh air.

It was at least midnight by now, but Nya was in the living room, so he told her where he was going to make sure no one worried (a habit formed due to the unnaturally large number of times one of them has been kidnapped, or worse.)

“I’m going for a walk,” he mentioned in passing.

“Really?” she didn’t sound surprised. “It’s late.”

Jay fidgeted. “Yeah, I’m sure. Plus it’s a nice night out. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He walked out of the monastery and into the courtyard, relishing in the initial breeze that hit him. He would walk down the mountain and back up and be fine.

But a walk turned into a jog, and soon into a sprint. He wondered briefly why he thought he could run away from this realization, leaving it all behind in his bedroom at the monastery. And at least, for a few moments, it succeeded; the burning sensation in his chest and side stitches gnawing at his muscles made him completely forget about the whole situation. But soon, he asked himself why he was running down the monastery’s mountain, and the whole thing came back to Jay, and he audibly groaned.

He wished things could return to normal. He wished he could be normal. But for now, he was only concerned about placing one leg in front of the other as fast as he could despite the strong protest of his lungs.

He quickly tired out, doubling over to place his hands on his knees as soon as he reached the bottom of the mountain. The warm midsummer night breeze offered little reprieve from neither his anxiety nor his feelings for Cole.

“Jay?”

Speak of the devil.

It must have been an odd sight, Jay thought, to see him there, just after 12 at night, heaving and sweating to no end.

Jay sucked in a breath. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here…” Cole trailed off, before glaring at Jay. “What are you doing here?”

Jay couldn’t meet his eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest, and no, it wasn’t from his impromptu run down a mountain. The FSM must have been playing some sick joke on him, because not only was he facing a life-altering realization tonight, now he had to face said person who had been the catalyst for this life-altering realization.

What the fuck.

Cole’s face shifted from that of possibly some unreadable shock to concern. “I was watching the stars, but I take it that was not what you were doing,” he sighed, taking one step closer to him. “Jay, what are you doing here,” he repeated slowly.

The prospect of explaining the entire thing to Cole seemed silly. Maybe because Cole should already know, or maybe because he had been in denial for nearly five years of his feelings and oh god the anticipation and anxiety were overwhelming. And so Jay opened his mouth to say something to Cole that might satisfy his queries, but all that came out was a choked sob.

The tears began and didn’t stop, not when Cole reached out a strong and steady arm and whispered reassurances like “hey, it’s okay,” and “shh, there.” The tears didn’t stop when Cole said “let’s get you inside,” and swooped Jay up in his arms and carried him all the way up the monastery’s steps up the mountain.

Jay cried harder at the prospect that this might be the last time he’s ever in Cole’s arms like this, bridal style.

And finally, Cole made it inside, shirt stained from tears that weren’t his and dotted with sweat from Jay’s temple. He took Jay to his bedroom and laid him down on his bed, before covering him up and sitting on the foot of his bed, as far away from arm’s reach as possible.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Jay sniffed pathetically, sitting up from where the earth ninja had tucked him in.

This time, Jay instigated the closeness.

He slid his hand towards Cole, close but not touching. The other ninja held out his arms, and for the first time in a week, Jay quickly consented to falling into his embrace. It was a warm hug, with Cole’s strong, sturdy arms around Jay’s shaking frame.

Jay spoke, voice just above a whisper. “I think I might be gay. Or something. I dunno. Men.” Cole hugged him tighter, and the embrace grew more sincere.

Cole was about to say something, but Jay shushed him, as he had become aware enough to realize that a.) this might be far too intimate and b.) he just made Cole carry him, crying, all the way from the base of the mountain to the top.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he was overcome with some relief that had been just out of grasp for the last five years. He pulled away from Cole and wiped his eyes. “I’m not sure why I’m crying.”

“That’s okay,” Cole smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“No, I’m serious,” Jay said. The pair remained quiet, eyes downcast, some unspoken feelings of tension hanging in the air. “ I came to terms with my sexuality and then I- I just ran all the way down the monastery mountain like a lunatic and I probably really smelly and gross and you still hugged me and carried me. I’m sorry.”

Cole gave a soft smile and a small, gentle laugh that made Jay’s stomach flip, but he could almost sense the upcoming conversation:

Hey, Jay, how’d you realize you might be queer?

Oh, nothing, besides the fact that I often pictured your face on Nya’s when I kissed her (once) and that you sitting right here in front of me makes it pretty easy!

Jay nearly squeaked- yeah, no thanks. He’d rather not do that tonight. Instead, he laid back down on Cole’s bed.

“We don’t have to ever talk about it, if you don’t want to. But I do want you to know that this won’t change anything between us, okay? Like- I won’t stop being your friend…”

Jay felt a twinge of guilt, so he closed his eyes, perhaps pretending to be overcome with sleepiness.

“...and I’ll still love and support you unconditionally. As a partner and friend. Nothing will change because you’re gay, I promise.”

The lightning ninja isn’t sure what spunk possessed him in that moment, but when he found himself saying “what if I want things to change?” before his mind could think clearly, he nearly punched himself square in the jaw for his sheer audacity.

Cole blinked from the foot of the bed. “What?”

Jay composed himself, staring at the ceiling, and decided it was now or never to confess his feelings. “What I guess I mean is that I’d be okay with a change. Maybe not for the worst. Because I like you, Cole. Like- like like you. And you’ve always been touchy with me, and now I want those touches and hand holdings and long hugs to mean something.”

At first he was afraid he had upset Cole, because the black ninja didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. But then, in a swift and fluid movement, he was lying in his bed beside Jay and spooning him.

“This means something,” he said. “And really, for me at least, it always has.”

Jay cuddled into Cole. This was nice. And now that he was comfortable, it was even better. No more suppressed feelings, no more denial. He could admire Cole for who he truly was- yes, a good training partner, with nice wavy black hair and dark skin that looks like amber in the afternoon light and biceps and abs that could rival a god, but also as a crush. A support. A partner...not only for training.

Jay was nearly asleep in Cole’s arms when he whispered, “can I kiss you?”

The earth ninja looked at Jay. “I’ve been waiting for you to since the day I met you,” he said, and their lips met with enthusiastic and warm vitality. Cole’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to his muscular body, and Jay wondered why he didn’t do this sooner.

“By the way,” Jay whispered, “I always hated the feeling of the nunchuck belt. I just let you put it on me because I liked the way your hands felt around my waist.”

“And you just now realized you’re gay?”

---

Nya peeked into the room and, admittedly, felt a little relieved when she saw Jay in Cole’s arms, both sound asleep.

She was so glad she had told Cole to go stargazing that night.

[beatriceeagle]

I'm more of a fantasy than sci-fi person, but consider my interest piqued. Why should I watch farscape?

Okay, the thing is, every Farscape fan’s pitch on Why You, Yes You, Should Watch Farscape ends up sounding very similar, and that’s because Farscape is a black hole that sucks you in and does things to your brain, and after you’ve watched it you are never, ever the same, which incidentally is basically the plot of Farscape.

I would summarize the basic plot for you, but that’s work, and luckily, the show’s credits sequence includes a handy summary that I will provide instead of doing that work: “My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. A radiation wave hit, and I got shot through a wormhole. Now I’m lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship, a living ship, full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I’m being hunted by an insane military commander. Doing everything I can. I’m just looking for a way home.“

So let me break down that monologue into its component reasons you should watch Farscape.

1) Some of the strange alien life forms are Muppets.

Farscape a co-production with the Jim Henson Company, and while there are many aliens played by humans in make-up, there are also a considerable number (including two of the regular crew) who are Muppets. By which I do not mean Kermit. I mean really gorgeous, elaborate works of art.

Also, even a lot of the humans-in-makeup aliens just look cool, and incredibly weird. Here’s an alien who appears in a single episode of season 1:

Not that there aren’t, you know, occasional Star Trek-style “these guys are just humans with weird hair,” or whatever, but in general, the aliens on Farscape look really alien. And that’s more than an aesthetic choice; it’s Farscape’s driving narrative principle. The aliens look alien, they act alien, they have alien values.

You know how a lot of sci-fi shows will have a stand-in for “fuck,” like Battlestar Galactica has “frak”? Well, Farscape has “frell.” And also “dren.” And yotz, hezmana, mivonks, loomas, tralk, snurch, eema, drannit, dench, biznak, arn, drad, fahrbot, narl. Some of those are swear words, but some of them are just words, never explicitly translated, that the alien characters will pepper into their speech, because, well, why should translator microbes be able to completely translate all the nuances of an alien culture? You’ll pick it up from context. One time, in passing, a character mentions that he’s familiar with the concept of suicide, but there’s no word for it in his language. I cannot emphasize to you enough how fleeting this moment is; the episode is not about suicide, we’re not having a great exchange of cultural ideas—at the time, the characters are running down a corridor in a crisis, as they are about 70 percent of the time—it’s just that the subject got brought up, and this character needed to talk around the fact that he literally didn’t have a word, in that moment. Things like that happen all the time, on Farscape.

Because more than anything else, Farscape is a show about culture shock. John Crichton is this straight, white Southern guy, at the top of his game—he’s an astronaut! he’s incredibly high status!—and then he ends up on the other side of the galaxy, where none of his cultural markers of privilege hold any meaning, where he doesn’t know the rules, where he literally can’t even open the doors. And he has to unlearn the idea that humanity is central, that he is the norm.

2) John Crichton, an astronaut, is pretty great.

A show that’s about a straight white guy with high status having to learn that he’s not the center of the universe could easily be centered around a really insufferable person, but one of the subtle things that makes Farscape so wonderful is that Crichton is, for the most part, pretty excellent. He has a lot of presumptions to unlearn because almost anyone in his cultural position would, but he’s also just a stand-up guy: compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, decent, forgiving, brave, hopeful.

And the galaxy tries to kick a whole lot of that out of him. It doesn’t succeed, mostly, but if Farscape is about anything other than culture shock, it’s about the lasting effects of trauma. How you can go through a wormhole one person, and experience things that turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

That’s kind of grim-sounding, but ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that Farscape is almost fanatically devoted to character work. Crichton is not the only character who sounds like he should be one thing and ends up being another. All of the characters—all of them, all of them, even the annoying ones—are complicated wonders. And you don’t have to wonder whether the events of the episode you’re watching are going to matter. They will. Everything that happens to the characters leaves a mark. Everything leaves them forever changed. Whether it’s mentioned explicitly or not—and often enough, it’s not explicit—the characters remember what has happened to them.

3) The living ship houses a lot of excellent women, among them the ship itself.

Ah, the women of Farscape, thou art the loves of my fucking life.

There’s Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper (that’s the military that the “insane military commander” hails from) now fugitive, currently learning the meaning of the word “compassion” (literally). She will break your fingers and also your heart. John/Aeryn is the main canon romantic ship.

There’s Pa’u Zhoto Zhaan, a priestess of the ninth level, current pacifist, former anarchist. Sorry, leading anarchist. She orgasms in bright light! (Oh my god, Farscape.)

There’s Chiana, my fucking bestie, a teenage(ish? ages in Farscape are weird) fugitive on the run from a repressive authoritarian state. Chiana is like a seductress con artist grifter thief who mostly just wants to survive so that she can have fun, damn it. Characters on Farscape do not really discuss sexualities (sex, yes, sexualities, no) and it would be fair to say that several of them do not fall along human sexuality lines generally, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that Chiana is canonically not straight.

Then there’s Moya, the ship herself, and it’s hard to get a straight read on Moya’s personality, since she mostly can’t speak. But she definitely has opinions, and things and people she cares about. And she moves the plot, though that gets into spoiler territory.

Past first season, further excellent women show up: Jool (controversial, but I like her), Sikozu (I once saw a Tumblr meme where someone had marked down that Sikozu would lose her shit when someone pronounced “gif” wrong, and that’s absolutely correct, and it’s why I love her), and Noranti (who is incredibly weird, and incredibly hard to summarize, but man, you gotta love her willingness to just show up and do her thing). Plus, there’s a recurring female villain, Grayza, who I could write probably multiple essays about. (I don’t know how you will feel about Grayza, as not everyone loves her, but I think she’s fucking fascinating, especially because she’s not actually the only recurring female villain. We also get Ahkna!)

(Side note: I should mention, here, that the cast of Farscape is really, really white. There is one cast member of color, Lani Tupu, but he pretty much represents the entirety of even, like, incidental diversity in casting for the series.)

Anyway, Farscape is full of awesome women, and also awesome and unexpected men, and it really enjoys playing with audience expectations of gender roles, generally. Literal entire books have been written about the way that Farscape fucks around with sex, sexuality, and gender. It’s a little weird because it was the late 90s/early 2000s, and sometimes that does come through, but Farscape’s guiding principle was always to try not to present American culture of the time as the norm, so like. It is not.

(An aside on Farscape and sex: Literally every character on Farscape has sexual tension with every other character. If you are a shipper, this is a Good Show, because no matter who you ship, there will not only be subtext, you will get a Moment of some kind. Multiple characters kiss the Muppet. Farscape is dedicated to getting into the nitty-gritty of the galaxy—I like to think of it as showing the guts of the universe—so a lot of the show is kind of squishy. They live on a biomechanoid ship, instead of androids there are “bioloids,” there’s a lot of focus on strange alien biologies, and lots of weird glowing fluids and things. I think the sex thing is kind of part and parcel of the larger biology focus: Farscape is really fascinated with how we all eat and evolve and live and die and, well, fuck. Which is in turn, kind of part of its focus on making everything really alien.)

4) Other stuff you should know.

Farscape as a whole is excellent, but it was kind of the product of creative anarchy—an Australian/American coproduction (oh yeah, everyone except Crichton speaks with an Australian accent) that was also partnered with the Henson company, whose showrunners were based in America but whose actual production all took place in Australia, and who was just constantly trying new things. So individual episodes can vary wildly in quality. It really takes off in the back half of season one, but no season is without a few off episodes.

It is extraordinarily funny, and I really think I haven’t stressed that enough. It’s one of the shows I want to quote the most in my daily life, but almost all of its humor is really context-dependent, and if you just wander around going, “Hey Stark? What’s black and white, and black and white, and black and white?” people look at you really funny.

It’s very conversant with pop culture generally (although obviously sci-fi  specifically, and Star Trek most specifically of all) and really enjoys deconstructing tropes, often to the effect of, “Well, Crichton really does not know what to do here, does he?” but sometimes just to be interesting.

There are also a lot of themes about science, and its uses and misuses.

The whole thing is fucking epic, and if you get invested at all, will take you on an emotional ride.

This show is weird. I know that that’s probably come across by now, but I think it’s worth reiterating as its own point: Farscape is so weird. Like, proudly, unabashedly, trying its hardest, weird. An amazing kind of weird.

If you’re into fantasy, you should know that there’s a recurring villain who’s just a wizard. Like, they don’t bother to explain it any more than that, he’s just a fucking wizard.

In summary: You should watch Farscape because it is a weird, wild, emotional, epic romance/drama/action/allegory full of Muppets and leather and one-liners and emotional gut punches and love, and if you let it, it will worm its way into you and never let go, which, now that I think of it, is another Farscape plot.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine!

[alittlextrathatway]

Matt and Sylvie & Number 9 for the fluff prompt please! 💕

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

******

Severide had asked them to take a quick trip to the cabin to get it ready for him.

It was awkward being alone with Sylvie given their current situation. She’d just stopped seeing the Lieutenant from 40 and the assumption around both houses was that it ended because of Matt. She hadn’t said a word to him about it, not that he expected her too, so he had no idea what actually happened.

Regardless, his best friend was planning to propose to Sylvie’s best friend in this cabin in just a few hours.

Matt had a feeling that plan was wrecked — judging by the snow piling up outside.

“The roads in and out of here are closed,” Sylvie announces, dropping her phone on the coffee table. “Poor Severide. This was supposed to be such a big night for him and Stella! Have you talked to him yet?”

Matt nods, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. It was a good thing he’d already started a fire. They were going to need it. “He said not to worry about it. He’ll improvise. So, it’s gonna be a big night no matter what. Just not here.”

“Oh! But what about the strawberries! I mean the champagne will keep but the chocolate covered strawberries won’t,” Sylvie says, frowning at the pretty spread she’d set up on the coffee table.

Matt shrugs and then grins at her. “More for us?”

“God, that’s tempting. We can’t though!”

“Why not?”

“They’re for Stella!”

“You said yourself they won’t last. Kidd won’t get to eat them no matter what. Someone should enjoy them,” Matt reasons, glancing pointedly between her and the platter.

Sylvie bites her bottom lip before reluctantly reaching for the smallest strawberry. “Well, maybe just one.”

She really is too cute. How did he not see her sooner? What had been different about them the last few years? Had she changed or had he? Maybe it was both of them. Maybe, unlike his past relationships, he and Sylvie were growing together not apart.

“Guess we’re bunking here for the night,” Matt says while glancing at the unexpected blizzard through the window. “You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

She nods. “Okay.” Awkward silence descends and Matt hates it. Their silences had never been awkward before. Sylvie looks guiltily at the tray and then grabs it as she stands from the couch. “I should put these in the fridge. If we can keep them cold Stella might still be able to enjoy them.”

As soon as she takes a step toward the kitchen, the lights flicker and then cut out. Only the glow of the fire illuminates the room, surrounding them in hues of orange and yellow.

“Wind probably knocked a tree into some power lines somewhere,” Matt observes. “Looks like we’re gonna have to eat those strawberries after all. No power, no fridge.”

“And also no heat,” Sylvie reminds him as she comes back with the tray.

“Good point. Guess we’re both sleeping on the couch. We’ll need the fire for warmth,” Matt tells her with an apologetic glance.

At that realization, the tension is palpable. He can feel her apprehension as if it were his own. Guilt overwhelms him. It’s his fault that their relationship, whatever it is, has become so uncomfortable. His dumbass answer fanned the flames of fear and doubt in her and unless he straightens it out nothing will ever be the same again.

“Or I’m sure there’s a sleeping bag around here somewhere,” he says lamely. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Sylvie shoves almost an entire strawberry in her mouth and nods silently as she chews. The sight of her chewing ferociously and avidly avoiding his eyes would be comical if it didn’t sting so much.

“We have plenty of time to kill until then,” Matt observes. “What should we do?”

She continues to chew but shrugs and points at him, indicating he should decide. He nearly grins. Her determination to avoid conversation just gave him the perfect opening.

“Up to me, huh?”

She nods.

“Then I think we should talk. About you and me.”

She gulps down the rest of the strawberry in one swallow, nearly choking in the process. “What?” She asks through a startled cough.

“I miss you and I hate how distant we are.”

“Matt—“

“No, hear me out. I know I agreed to give you space but that was a mistake. I should have said what I really wanted to say but as always I can’t think straight around you. You—you fog things up and the words get lost in all my feelings and I end up sounding like a jackass.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want Gabby. She could walk through the door right now and beg me to leave with her and I wouldn’t do it. She and I had our chance. We don’t work. Honestly, despite our good moments, we never really did. And I don’t want a relationship that has a few good moments. I want a relationship that has a few bad moments. Maybe one that even allows me to be happy in the middle of the challenges. That’s not what Gabby and I had.”

“It isn’t?”

He shakes his head and takes her hands in his, sliding closer to her on the couch. “No, but it is what you and I have. Even as friends, that’s how our relationship works. I want to be so much more than your friend, Sylvie, but I know we’ll never lose that. It’s our foundation. I want this,” he tells her as he releases one of her hands to point between them. “I want what I have with you for as long as you’ll let me have it.”

His words echo through the tiny cabin as they grow quiet again. Sylvie stares at him with wide nervous eyes, unblinking. She seems frozen with indecision.

Until she isn’t.

Until she stands straight up, nearly knocking him over since they were almost sitting on top each other, and walks toward the hallway.

“Pillows!” She shouts, frantically. “We need pillows. And blankets! I’ll go find them!”

He watches her go with a bewildered expression. He did speak, right? Outloud? He rises from the couch and follows her down the hall. “The extra blankets are in the closet in the bedroom,” he calls out to her back as she speed-walks down the short hallway.

“Right! Got it,” she says, never once looking back at him. “Oh look! And there’s a sleeping bag too! Perfect!”

He enters the bedroom and stops next to her, eyes narrowed on her panicked expression. What is going on here? She shoves the sleeping bag and a couple of pillows into his arms.

“You did hear me, right?” He asks while watching her grab as many blankets and pillows as she can manage.

“This should be plenty, right?” She’s trying to appear absent-minded but that same panic is in her eyes so he knows she heard him.

He sighs and nods. “Yes, this should be plenty.”

He follows her back out to the living room where she sets all the pillows and blankets in an armchair and begins to make up the couch. She throws the two spare throw pillows on the floor and then starts tucking a sheet around the cushions.

He watches, frustration building in his chest, as she follows that with a thick quilt and then begins meticulously fluffing and arranging the pillows. Finally, he gives up waiting for a response and unrolls the sleeping bag across the floor in front of the fire. He turns to grab a pillow from the armchair only to find all of them gone.

“Do you plan on sharing any pillows?” He asks Sylvie with a quirked brow.

She looks dazed as she blinks over at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“The pillows,” he repeats as he motions to the couch that’s almost too full of pillows to sit on.

“Oh!” She says, hands flying to her blushing cheeks. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“What is going on?” Matt asks loudly, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Did I say something wrong?”

“What? No! You—god, you said all the right things.”

“Then why are you still avoiding me?”

“I’m trying not to say or do anything stupid,” she admits in a barely audible voice.

“Nothing you say or do could be stupid,” Matt assures her.

“Oh no? Jumping you last time we kissed felt pretty stupid after it was all said and done and we both know, based on that first time, that I’m in way deeper than you. So, I don’t want to say anything that might scare yo—“

He cuts her off by suddenly dipping his head and capturing her lips with his. She tenses for a moment and then melts against him. They stand in front of the fire sharing searing kisses for what feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. It’s excruciatingly slow and yet it ends much too soon. It doesn’t make sense.

“There,” Matt says as they pull apart. “Now we’re even.”

She blinks at him, looking adorably confused. “What?”

“You’ve jumped me and I’ve jumped you,” he replies, catching his breath. “We’re even.”

“Oh god, I love you.” She gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth. A goofy grin appears on his face as he pulls her hands away. She winces and then continues rambling. “I didn’t mean to tell you that. Not...not yet anyway. Oh shit. Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“No,” he replies in a firm tone. Though the smile on his face contradicts his tone. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Why not?” She asks, her bottom lip poking out in a very slight pout.

“Because I love you too and I want you to know it,” Matt confesses, rubbing his hands up and down her arms soothingly and trying not to look amused by her pouting lip. “I don’t want to pretend I feel less for you than I actually do ever again.”

She gasps at his words before framing his face with her hands and yanking his lips down to hers. She tastes like strawberries and dark chocolate. He guides her down to the couch, crushing the pillows she’d placed on one end. It actually works out well for them. It props her up at a more comfortable angle for him to settle himself on top of her.

With everything finally out in the open, the layers of clothing between them don’t last long and by the time the sun is setting in the sky they’re panting, sweaty, naked, and wrapped in three layers of blankets.

The power still hasn’t come back on and the air has chilled considerably. He kisses a trail down her jaw to her neck and then rests his head on her chest with his arms wound around her waist.

Every single pillow is still propped underneath her.

“You’re better than an electric blanket,” Sylvie tells him with a sleepy satisfied smile. “You’re so warm.”

He laughs and presses a light kiss to the middle of her sternum. “I guess it’s only fair that I’m your blanket. Considering, you took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

“I’m happy to be your pillow, Matt Casey.”

“And I will gladly be your blanket, Sylvie Brett. All you have to do is ask.”

[prrplwtch]

headcanons for all the demon brothers on what their thoughts are about dating a human, considering humans age quickly and die. they barely have a century, if that. and if they do last a century they'll be old. idk... if mc asked them if they truly meant to date them when they are 70 years old, what would they say?

Ahh, nonnie thank you for this request - this is just the kind of angst I’ve been craving lately 💜I’m kinda assuming here that the whole entire “die, turn back into angel, and then live happily ever after with MC in celestial realm” things that’s briefly mentioned in the game isn’t really an option for the boys, since I don’t really understand it. 

Anyways, after I wrote this, it appears Lucifer, Satan, Asmo and Belphie would break off relationship on account of MC’s mortality, and Mammon, Levi and Beel would stay. 

Lucifer

Lucifer starts thinking about it as soon as he finds himself falling for MC. 

He knows that the human life is quite short, and he’d lost so much of what he loved before - but for the first time in his life he’s this scared.

It seems MC will be taken away from him in a blink of an eye. 

Lucifer is not the type to give up without a fight, however, so he’ll likely try and find a way to increase human life span. He knows, of course, that it’s not possible to make humans immortal, but he will do his best to find a way to get more time for the two of them. 

Diavolo might find out about his efforts, and may offer to make MC a demon, but Lucifer will decline. That’s not to say he’s not tempted to accept - after all, that way they’ll be forever by his side, but he knows all too well the cost of a deal with Diavolo. 

If he finds something that may help lengthen human life, he’ll approach MC about it. If they accept, he’ll be delighted, but if they reject, he would fall into despair.  

Assuming that MC rejected the “longer-lifespan” solution and question Lucifer on whether he would stop loving them if they aged and died like a normal human, Lucifer would become very sad - picturing himself still “young” and full of strength when MC is old and frail is quite jarring to him. 

Will likely begin to pull away from the relationship in that case and might actually break it off - he is not ready to spend decades in fear, waiting for MC to become old and die. 

Alternative option is that he’ll apply the “long life” treatment to MC anyways (since often he thinks he knows better) but this would likely blow up in his face, since MC probably won’t be too happy about it, and for a good reason. 

Mammon

Mammon does not think about it at first - after all, he kind of lives in the present moment. 

However, one day, one of his brothers (maybe Lucifer or Satan) will definitely being up the fact that he’s dating a mortal and that their time together is quite limited. 

That would scare Mammon very much - MC is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he absolutely cannot lose them. 

He likely won’t talk to MC about it right away, but will ask around about the ways in which a human’s life span can be lengthened. He’s not big on doing research, so he’ll likely turn to Satan or might go to the witches and ask if they know of something. 

MC will definitely figure out that something is bothering Mammon - the boy is as transparent as they come, even though he tries to hide his true feelings. 

When confronted will tell MC about his worries and will mention whatever ways he had found of increasing the human life span, then will ask MC is they’d agree to those. 

If MC agrees, like Lucifer, he would be elated. If MC does not agree, and instead asks him if he’d still love them when they were old and frail, Mammon would feel really guilty. 

It would take him some time to figure out what he truly feels about this situation - after all, this is all so new and he’d never had to encounter such problems before. 

In the end, he’ll decide that he’ll stay with MC who refused the “lifespan lengthening” treatment - the man is the avatar of greed after all, and there is no way he’ll give up the most precious thing in his life, even if it’s inevitable that it’ll be eventually taken away. 

Leviathan

Like Mammon Levi does not really think about it, until one day he he ends up watching an anime with a similar premise - an immortal girl meets a mortal girl and they fall in love, and the anime follows their life together. 

He thinks a lot about himself and MC when he watches it. He’s worried at first, but the story is a beautiful one and very peaceful, all the way through the end, and that definitely gives him solace. 

���Even though our time is short, we can still live a happy life,” he thinks to himself. 

Unlike his other brothers, will likely bring this up to MC unprompted, but asking MC whether they had thought about the future with him. MC will likely wonder why he’s asking, prompting Levi to explain about the anime. 

“So then you’ll still love me when I’m 70 and old and frail?” MC will ask him with a smile, and Levi will assure MC that of course he would. After all, theirs is a true love, just like that of the two characters from his anime, so how could he ever walk away from his one true?

Still though, Levi would like to get as much time with MC as is possible - he loves them very much after all - so he will ask if they are interested in looking into ways to increase the human lifespan. 

If MC agrees, Levi would be very happy - the more years he has with them the better, after all. But if MC declines, though sad, Levi would respect their decision. 

Satan (you can pry tolkien-fan satan out of my cold dead hands lmao)

Satan definitely thinks about the fact that he and MC would not have much time together as soon as he finds himself falling for them. 

After all, how could he not when some books he enjoyed reading had discussed at length the griefs that would befall the mortal and immortals who decided to spend their lives together. 

It worries him, of course - he knows that human youth is painfully fleeting and soon enough MC would age. Compared to millennia that he had lived, it seems as though MC will turn old and frail in a blink of an eye. 

He thinks he’d like to stay by their side, but one thing worries him - how will they feel when old age came upon them, and he’s still as “young” as the day they met. 

Satan would likely talk to MC about his concerns, trying to see what they think about the issue. 

When MC asks him if he would still love them when they are seventy, the question will likely put fear into Satan’s heart. It would seem to him that MC resents the fact that they will age, if they are asking things like this.

Satan knows a lot about magic, so he, like his brothers, might try to find away to make sure that MC lives longer, and will be glad if they accept. 

However, if they do not, like Lucifer, Satan might withdraw from the relationship. It would be unintentional at first, but the more time passes, the more he’d think about how MC would feel in the end - when they are old and he is still young. 

He knows he would not be able to hide his pity for them when that day comes- and he knows he does not want to shame them like that. So it is possible that Satan would break off the relationship to prevent more hurt further down the road. 

Asmodeus

Asmo, like Mammon, doesn’t really think about the future the whole lot, until someone points out to him that his time with MC is limited. Well, “doesn’t think about it,” is not completely fair - he did for a moment, but then quickly pushed the thought to the very back of his mind. After all, how can he be his fabulous self if he’s sulking? 

Still, now that someone else had pointed this out, Asmo cannot avoid the topic any longer. It causes him great anguish - he loves MC, and imagining them old and grey and weak is not something he wants to think about at all. 

MC would likely pick up on Asmo being more sad/reserved that usual, and when they ask him about it, he’ll likely be pretty open about his feelings. 

“Not to worry though,” he’ll tell MC, “I know this one witch - and she looks not a day over twenty five, when, in fact, she’s about five hundred years old. I’m sure if I’ll ask her nicely, she’ll share the secret of how to lengthen human life span.”

He’ll be delighted if MC agrees and would proceed right to calling the witch. However, if MC declines and asks him instead if what he said means he would not love them once they turned old, Asmo would be conflicted. 

On one hand, he would, of course - after all they’d still be them, but on the other hand, he could hardly bear to picture them old and frail. He’ll try to convince them to change their mind, of course. 

If he does not succeed, Asmo might find himself pulling away from the relationship. He loves MC a lot yet, but he does not want to get hurt - and he knows their death would absolutely destroy him. 

He might find it easier to break off the relationship completely rather than suffer for decades in wait of MC’s death.

Beelzebub

Beel, like some of his brothers, is not really the type to ponder subjects like this, so it’s most likely that he hasn’t thought about how the relationship between him and MC would inevitably come to an end with their death. 

That is, until one of his brothers points it out. 

The thought makes Beel very sad - he loves MC so very much and he never wants to be separated from them. Still, he understands that that’s the reality of life - humans are mortal and one day MC will be taken away from him. 

Knowing that they only have a little time together (well, obviously decades are not quite “little time,” but to someone who’s lived for millennia it probably is) he’d want to spend all the time he can with MC. 

He’d likely stay in MC’s room as much as he can, go with them everywhere, spend all the free time that he can by their side and be really sad when he cannot be next to them. 

MC would likely notice the change in his behavior - it’s not like he did not spend a lot of time with them before, but now he’s spending considerably more time with them - and ask him about it to which Beel would likely tell them the truth, that he’s scared that one day he’ll lose them. 

When MC asks if that means he’d still be by their side when they are old, Beel will be taken aback by the question. How can MC possibly think otherwise - of course he’d never leave them?

Unlike his brothers, he probably won’t look into the lengthening of the human lifespan - after all, MC does not seem interested in it, and he’s already grateful for all the time that they got together. 

Belphegor

Unlike his twin, Belphie definitely thinks about the fact that humans are mortal and that there is so little time for him to be with MC, as soon as he finds himself falling for them. 

Belphie’s terrified of losing any more of the people that he loves, so MC’s mortality is causing him great anguish. Unlike some of his brothers, however, he’s pretty good at concealing his true emotions, so it’s likely won’t be as easy for MC to read him as it is to read some of his brothers. 

Still, eventually the silence will become too much to bear, and Belphie would tell MC that their mortality scares him. 

When the conversation occurs, he likely hasn’t looked into the ways of making humans live longer just yet, but he’s certain that that’s possible, so he brings it up as a possibility to MC. 

If MC accepts, that makes Belphie happy - the more time he has with his beloved the better. If MC rejects, he feels really sad and a little angry - he wonders if MC doesn’t love him enough that they are refusing to do this for him. 

When MC asks him if he’d still love them when they are seventy years old, Belphie’s taken aback by the question. On one hand, MC would still be themselves, but on the other hand, loving someone who is on the death’s door, who is bound to die so soon. The very thought hurts.

Belphie thinks he’d suffered enough hurt in his life, and he does not want to go through several more decades waiting to get hurt again, so he’ll likely end the relationship to prevent pain down the road. 

[iworshipkeanureeves]

Denim Dreams (Scott Favor x Reader)

A/N: This is My Own Private Idaho fanfiction requested by @jadore-keanu30​, I also managed to slip in a small part about Scott being ticklish as requested by anon. And maybe let’s imagine this is AU where Mike is not in love with Scott.

Summary: Your friend Mike introduces you to Scott Favor, but you hate him at first. Scott, however, persistently tries to get your attention.

Warnings: language, smut

Words: 2,7 K

Woken by a doorbell, you rolled out of bed grunting. You were never a morning person, so it made you internally scream at whoever was behind that door. To your surprise, it was Mike, and even though you were sort of friends, he would rarely show up at your doorstep, especially this early.

“You can come in, my mom’s at work,” you invited Mike in, but he seemed hesitant to go.

“I thought we could get breakfast,” Mike suggested, leaning on your door frame.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you chuckled teasing him, when you knew this was never going to be the case.

“You’re not exactly my type,” he replied giving you an impish smile, and you rolled your eyes tying your hair up in a messy bun.

“Just give me a minute to change,” you said still wearing pajama and disappeared into your room, leaving him at a doorstep.

------

Mike and you were supportive of each other, but you weren’t particularly that kind of friends who would hang out together much, so all of this was a surprise.

“What’s the occasion?” you wondered as you and Mike were entering a diner.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my ass yesterday,” he replied, with his eyes stuck to the ground, as usual.

In fact, you had saved Mike’s ass many times before. Working at a movie theater, you would help him hide in one of the auditoria, usually from his clients and sometimes from the cops too. You had an understanding of what Mike was doing to get by. Yet, you two had an agreement that he wouldn’t involve you in his business further than that.

After much consideration, you decided to get a burger, which wasn’t a typical breakfast food, but you had a strong craving and it was already after 11 AM, so technically it could have been almost considered lunch. Mike was silent as usual, munching on his waffles, occasionally lifting his eyes to stare into a quiet street, and you could never tell what he was thinking about.

Just as you were about to take a next bite, you sensed the seat next to you caving in. Suddenly, you were being accompanied by a tall dark haired guy. He and Mike exchanged “Hey”s, so you assumed he was probably one of Mike’s friends. You didn’t know him, and it felt weird how he sat next to you instead of Mike. Not that it made you uncomfortable, but you found it rude, especially because he was coarsely invading your private space.

“I’m Scott, I’m Mike’s…”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off, after hearing the name. You recognized him from Mike’s stories. “Mike has told me about you,” you added and went on with another bite of your heavenly delicious burger.

Even though Mike had spoken only favorably about Scott, from what you had heard, you couldn’t approve him. You didn’t like the fact that Scott was privileged with his trust funds and did what he did only for fun. You believed that he would leave Mike any day to get back to his prosperous life, and you knew how much it would hurt your friend. Therefore, Scott was your enemy, even if you hadn’t met him before.

“She’s Y/N,” Mike mumbled, after a long silent pause around the table, and you choked a little looking up to give him a discontent glance.

“What a chatty girl,” Scott hissed ironically, raising his hand for a waitress to come.

“She’s just not an early bird, it’s too soon for her chirps,” Mike intervened, trying to cushion the conversation after seeing your face all frowned.

If Scott really wanted to talk, you decided to go at him.

“Don’t you feel like a fraud here?” you spoke calmly. “This life you’re living for the moment, isn’t it just one of your whims, until you choose to move on to something better?”

You already knew the real answer, you were just curious to see what Scott saw in all of this.

“So just because I’m going to inherit my family funds, it means I can’t live the life I honestly enjoy? Does it always have to be connected to money?”

His emphasis was on enjoyment, and you knew well, it was a brittle, fleeting thing. Yeah, even if this was the life he truly fancied, it was for a short moment only, and that moment was about to end meaning that someone would get hurt. Your dear Mike, most probably.

After finishing the last few sips of your drink, you gather you stuff and were about to put your jacket on.

“Leaving so soon?” Scott scoffed with his obnoxious exhale, and you could almost feel your blood beginning to boil.

“Work,” you looked at him with a painfully fake smile. “Some of us here”, you said pointing between you and Mike, “have to actually earn a living, we have no rich daddies to run to.”

You looked at Scott, implying he should really move, but he seemed to enjoy annoying you and wasn’t going to go anywhere. Playing his game, you decided to just climb over him, sticking your tight-fitted ass right in front of his face, wiggling it a little to tease him even more. Approaching the door, you turned around to give Mike one last goodbye, proudly witnessing Scott’s hand in a pocket, adjusting his emerging boner.

------

It was your usual day at work operating cash register, putting up a smile to everyone and kindly accepting their complaints about high prices and lack of interesting movies, as if it was personally your fault that this theater was kind of shitty.

Just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, it surely did.

What the hell, you thought, looking at Scott entering the movie theater, weirdly alone and still not losing that annoying smile of his.

“Hey there,” Scott spoke, leaning with his elbow on top of your desk. It left you speechless for a moment, as you were astonished by his audacity to come visit you at work. “Come get a drink with me,” he demanded.

“Don’t you see I’m working?” you couldn’t believe his oblivion. How self-centered could he possibly be?

“What about later?”

“Later? Oh yeah, still working,” you smiled mockingly. Scott seemed to be getting a little frustrated and there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed it.

“Fine, then one ticket to Bird on a Wire,” Scott requested, reaching for his wallet.

“Magic word?” you kept taunting him, squeezing every bit of his patience, though he seemed to be holding on surprisingly well.

“Please?” he grunted, slipping you a few bills.

“Rich boy with no manners, what could be worse?” you grinned, shaking your head, handing him the ticket.

Scott only cracked a smile. “See you around,” he said leaving your desk.

You really hoped this wouldn’t be the case, but oh boy, he was not wrong.

------

Scott came in the next week to see Back to the Future III, no stupid flirting this time. He directly asked for the ticket, and even added please, learning from his mistakes. Of course he was nice, it was probably his tactics to get you go out with him, but you knew better than that.

The problem was Scott’s persistence, as he kept on coming every night, and you would chat a little more each time. It was usually about Mike, but other things too. There was something frightening about letting him too close and you would have to remind yourself to keep a distance.

Every time you wanted to change the topic, you could turn to movies, because at some point Scott had probably seen more of those than you had. He saw Total Recall, Dick Tracy, Robocop 2, Days of Thunder, Die Hard 2, well, basically everything the theater was screening for the moment.

Indeed everything.

It seemed like you were unintentionally seeing Scott more than you were seeing Mike, and it drove you crazy. You started asking around if he also came on nights when you weren’t working, hoping that maybe he had just discovered his passion for movies. But that wasn’t the case.

------

One night Scott showed up looking different. His hair was messy, jeans were tighter, and he had a denim jacket on. It was buttoned up, but you could see that he was wearing nothing underneath. You felt bad for finding this tempting, but you couldn’t help it. Anyway, you didn’t have to like Scott as a person to admit how sexy he actually was.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “I don’t think we have a movie that you haven’t seen yet,” you continued, getting rid of all the scorn that you used to have in your voice before. Honestly, you were tired of torturing him, and he genuinely seemed not that bad. At least better than you had expected him to be after the first day of meeting him at that diner.

“Well, then I’ll have to watch Die Hard again,” Scott giggled, suggesting that he didn’t mind it, he just enjoyed coming to the theater.

After handing Scott the ticket, you realized that there might be a day when he wouldn’t come anymore. Or even worse, he would bring someone with him, another girl maybe. You couldn’t believe your thoughts, and how upset it made you. It felt like you were betraying yourself, but there was nothing you could do.

Fuck. You were falling for him

------

It was getting late and the majority of tonight’s screenings had ended, you were washing your hands in the ladies room, thinking about what needed to be done before closing up for the day. You couldn’t believe it when you caught yourself looking in the mirror to adjust your make-up and a few stray hairs, thinking you might meet Scott again.

After all, this wasn’t a bad decision, because just as you were leaving the restroom, your eyes met Scott, who was inspecting movie posters in the empty hallway. He must have heard the door shut, because he immediately turned your way. Was he following you? Waiting for you? You couldn’t tell, but honestly, you didn’t care any longer. You mind was captured by his unbuttoned jacket, exposing his bare stomach, and a scar running along his abs line, leaving you powerless against him.  

Coming closer to meet Scott, you felt yourself giving in. He had already put too much time into all this, for it to be just another of his games. Scott was being nice to you, so why push him away? It’s not like you were going to marry him and live happily ever after, but giving him a chance would be something. Something you might even enjoy.  

Scott was inches away, glancing down into your eyes. His messy hair was casting shadow over his dark gaze, making you weak in your knees. After looking around, very timidly you ran your fingertips through his exposed scar, feeling his radiating skin. You wanted him so badly, you could feel the heat accumulating between your legs just thinking about it.

Felt like it was now or never, and you decided to go for it.

“Do you have a condom?” you whispered, glancing at him.

“What if I do?” Scott asked, trying to play cool, but you could see the surprise in his eyes.

“Then it’s your lucky day,” you giggled dragging him back to the ladies room, into one of the stalls.

“What if somebody catch us? Aren’t you going to lose your job?” Scott slowed down a little.

“I hate this job,” you smirked, closing the door and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into a kiss.

You were delicate at first, slowly tasting his fleshy lips, your hands wandering along his sides, slowly reaching inside the jacket, your fingertips brushing his satin skin. Just as you reached Scott’s ribs, you felt his muscles tense and he bounced back a little with a giggle leaving his mouth.

“What a sensitive boy,” you smirked, pulling him closer again, invading his mouth with your tongue this time, writing your name inside his throat. Scott’s palms were on your ass, squeezing it tightly, his bulge pressing on your stomach, throbbing in his tight jeans.

Scott was slowly lifting the hem of your skirt, his hands getting closer to your heat, fidgeting with your skin, and then you felt his fingertips tucked inside your panties, dragging them down. His fingers were navigating through your folds, finding your swollen clit, and rubbing circles on it, while he was passionately kissing your lips.

An unexpected moan left your mouth and Scott had to cover it firmly with his palm, giving you a displeased stare. Finding this funny, you naughtily took two of Scott’s fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his dark lustful eyes, while his other hand was skillfully working your clit. You wanted to scream at how good it felt.

As you were unzipping Scott’s jeans, you felt two of his fingers smoothly sliding inside of your throbbing pussy, slowly stretching you before you take him.

“You’re tight, baby, I want to prepare you a little bit,” he whispered, but the time wasn’t on your side, knowing the theater would be closing soon.

“We have to be quick,” you moaned, dragging his jeans down, and pushing him onto the covered seat. Scott’s thick fingers fell out of you and he took them in his mouth, slowly licking your juices off, maintaining a sultry eye contact. The sight gave you shivers, and the pressure in your lower stomach was getting unbearable.

“So sweet,” he said licking his lips, and went into his pocket to grab a silver packet.

While Scott was giving himself a few strokes and sliding a condom on, you stepped out of your panties that had been left hanging between your ankles and straddled him. Feeling his tip brushing against your slit, you helped him line with your entrance and lowered yourself gradually. He was really big and you felt flames in your walls, but Scott was patiently waiting for you to adjust, his fingers softly brushing your hair.

Getting more comfortable, you started moving faster, taking him all in, feeling his length hitting you in the right spot. Scott’s hands were on your hips keeping your balance, and his lips were placing wet kisses all over your neck. Every thrust was audible with your skin slapping against each other and your wet pussy splashing every time he went all the way in.

Scott had noticed that your thighs were getting tired, so he stood up with you hanging around him, your legs wrapped across his waist. With your back set against the wall, Scott drove into you with force, you could feel and hear his balls slapping your ass and you felt your release coming.

“Scott, I’m close, please just don’t stop,” you whimpered, with incoherent cries leaving your throat, as you felt him pushing even harder. Your abdomen cramped and you came undone with moans that were probably too loud, but you couldn’t care less.

Scott was still jamming into you vigorously, grunting as he came hard, stalling inside of you, with his throbbing cock pulsating against your walls. He was panting, as he looked up to you and smiled, “You’re good?” he asked, catching his breath. But you only managed to nod eagerly, as he was letting your feet to the ground, pulling out of you slowly.

With remaining tingles in your belly, you put your panties on and carefully peeked out to see if it was safe to leave. Leading the way, you held Scott’s hand and asked him to wait outside the restroom until you fixed your hair and make up, again. You wanted to hate yourself for this, but instead of feeling guilt or regret, you could only feel ecstasy in your veins. This was too good to let go.

As you were leaving the restroom, Scott greeted you with a wide grin, taking you by the hand. “I know this isn’t the exact order of how relationships go, but how about that drink now?” he asked modestly.

“Fine, just let me drop my uniform,” you smiled, rising on your toes to give him a little kiss and disappeared into the staff room.

[curly-bangtan]

Drabble game: Member: Jin 6) baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that 21) can’t you stop gaming for 1 second and give me attention?

#6: “baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

#21: “can’t you stop gaming for one second and give me attention?”

#20: “let me guess, you’re horny again.”

Warnings: oral (M), slight exhibitionism, giving seokjinnie the best suck while he’s gaming and on a call with the boys

A/N: I feel so bad because I really haven’t had much time to write lately because of uni so I haven’t prepared anything special for Jin’s birthday except this. :c But anyway, enjoy~!

.

“Ahh- Aahhh- AAAAHHHHHHH!”

You hear the distinct yells coming from a certain room as you enter the house, a noise so boisterous that it could only belong to none other than your boyfriend.

Which one is it this time, Maple Story or Kart Rider?

Shaking your head in a smitten grin, you walk to the source of the shouts.

To his credit, he at least acknowledges you, “Oh, hey sweetie. Back so early?” To his discredit, he doesn’t even look up from his game, eyes glued to the glaring computer screen, which you don’t doubt have been fixed in place for the entire time you were gone. Kart Rider it is this time.

Tonight was a girls’ night, a few drinks at a nice cocktail bar with your closest female friends (a few meaning maximum three because cocktails are bloody expensive), chin-wagging and updating on each other’s love/sex lives. You always enjoy this type of gatherings.

“Early? Seokjin, it’s one.”

Only a single earphone in, he looks up, but even so, scarcely lest his eyes stray for a second too long from the pixelated road and he crashes again. He’s ranked number 6 right now. Out of seven. Why is he even trying anymore, he’s not going to win. Still, your eyes meet for a fleeting moment, enough for you to feel connected to him again, to trick yourself into thinking that he remotely missed you. Because he definitely didn’t. He didn’t even notice the time, where would his attention find the capacity to remember you while he’s racing his friends on this server?

“Oh shit, now way, it’s one already?” There is a monotone in his voice where disbelief should be. Basically, when Seokjin is gaming, he has two possible moods: over dramatic Ancient Roman gladiator with astounding battle cries, or completely stoic, focused, and most likely won’t realise if you’ve cracked an egg on his head. Both are equally as infuriating.

“Yes, it’s already one.” You sigh, plopping your bag on the floor to the side and striping your winter layers.

It’s shocking, sometimes, to think that your boyfriend is close to reaching his thirties. People compliment him endlessly on his lack of ageing - how doesn’t he have a single wrinkle? he looks the same as he did five years ago, if not better! - but little do they know, not only has he physically not aged, but also has mentally not grown up since the age of sixteen. Sixteen is him on a good day and you being generous.

You wonder if he’s going to stop gaming after this round now that you are back.

You wait.

He ends up coming fourth, which isn’t too shabby considering he had fallen off the course and wound up at the back. Watching as he stretches his board back, you think he’s going to switch his computer off, call it a day and finally come join you on the bed. But then he says into the microphone:

“Guys wait for me, let me change my character.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. Every time.

So you try to mind your own business as you wait for him to finally finish - you don’t mind going to sleep without him, you’re that far into your relationship that you don’t even need to say good night anymore. Practically a married couple at this point.

But then your mind wanders to the conversation you and your girls were having earlier during the night.

On the topic of sex, June brought up how her and her boyfriend has started to switch things up in the bedroom since, as much as she loves him, the same dick gets boring after a year. There was one time where they did policeman roleplay and he dropped the key under the bed and took ages to fish it out, but it was fine because the sex had been a solid 10/10, so apparently it was worth the sore arms. Kerry was surprised that June hadn’t tried to spice it up sooner; she on the other hand has been into moderate BDSM since highschool. Nothing hurts better than the sharp pain of being whipped on the butt by a crop cane, apparently. Just the other day, Namjoon suggested to Eunae that they should have a threesome with another man, the name of whom would not be disclosed, but you considerably suspect that he’s someone you know. Taehyung? Jimin? They seem like the type to be into this shit. But anyway, apparently, it turned Namjoon on a fucking lot to see Eunae get pounded by someone else while sucking his cock. She couldn’t complain at all, except for not being able to walk the next day.

You have such wholesome friends.

When it got to you, you kind of just- sat there poking your fingers. It not that your sex life with Seokjin is vanilla, but that’s exactly what you’re saying. Neither of you are particularly adventurous in nature, especially when it comes to sex. You would say that he has a higher sex drive than you, but only marginally. There are days where you would wake up and before your eyes are fully open, he’d already be inches deep in you. Sometimes, you go a long five days without sex out of tiredness and neither of you have a problem with it. But nevertheless, the sex is, as June described, the same mediocre missionary hammering until he blows his load either too soon or takes too long, with the occasional oral if you’re not feeling lazy.

Yeah, not mind blowing.

It’s not like you minded, but hearing your friends talk about their wild sex life makes you feel like you’re missing out. You and Seokjin are missing some fun, some excitement.

With that in mind, you crawl out of bed and approach your oblivious boyfriend. His shoulders jolt in surprise when he feels your arms snake around his neck from behind. Sparing you a second of his attention, he tilts his head up to meet your gaze, eyes wide in curiosity. You hang over him, cheek pressed on the crown of his head as you watch his game without particular interest.

Then you begin to bury your nose in his thick black hair, trailing tiny pecks all the way down to his face. Your hands start to roam as well, groping his toned chest not at all subtly. Seokjin is naturally well built with his hefty big bones - actual bones as well as, you know, that bone.

His fingers are moving mechanically on the keyboard in astounding reflexes. Hmm, you want those fingers inside… You place a particularly wet kiss on his cheek to try to coax his focus into your possession.

“What’s up, baby?” You count the flicker of his eyes as a small victory, even if you haven’t successfully infringed on his unwavering glare at the screen. Then he speaks into the microphone of his earphones, “Hoseok-ah, I’m catching up, watch out~!”

Ignoring his question as well as his sudden jerking motions to avoid his kart from veering too far, you proceed to kiss down his neck, pressing your warm lips ever so lightly on his skin to create that sensitive sparse contact that will surely make his little hairs rise. Your hands have now travel under his outstretched arms, albeit in an awkward angle due to your position, and are playing with the hem of his shirt. He’s wearing white today, and if there’s one thing you love more than your boyfriend, it’s your boyfriend in white.

When your small fingers reach the band of his joggers, you sense not only his muscles beneath your touch but his entire posture tense. Your wandering mouth feels him gulp.

“Let me guess, you’re horny again?” It’s unusual to hear him speak in such a low voice, a genuine hushed whisper rather than one for dramatic effect. The way he tilted away from the earphone mic does not go unnoticed, trying to to let the boys hear him. How interesting… Why not exploit that?

“Hmm…” You hum, lips still painting his collar now with gentle sucks. Your fingers are feathering his torso, each time daring to dip a bit further under his pants, but never too much. “Can’t you just stop gaming for a second and give me some attention, Seokjinnie?”

He tenses once more.

This is kind of fun. You almost snicker diabolically.

Muffled voices sound from the other end of the call, barely audible from the earphone that has been left dangling by the wire, not plugged into his ear. And you know that if it weren’t for them, Seokjin would be reprimanding you loudly right now.

“After this game, okay sweetie?” The tendons of his fingers strain over his knuckles. Click click click click click. Aggressive keyboard pushing.

“But… I can’t wait…” You put on your babiest voice with a whiny undertone, drawing out each syllable for emphasis. As you use your nails to tickle the skin over his pelvis, one of his knees jerk up and hit the desk.

Cute reflexes, you mirth.

“Shit-” He mutters under his breath. “Please, please, please. You’re distracting me.”

That’s the point.

This time, you reach even further, one hand brushing his thigh, the other returning to his fuzzy navel. “Seokjin…” He tries his best to hold in a sharp inhale at your seductive touch. “Right now, please…”

“Last game, I promise.” He whispers away from the microphone.

“You have two more rounds, you just started a new game, I can’t wait that long.” You nip at the lobe of his free ear.

“Boys, I’m going to bed after this game.” He announces to his friends, shooting you a brief pointed look, and whispers pleadingly, “please.”

Do you feel slightly bad for putting him in such a tortured position? Yes. But do you have every intention of carrying on? Also yes.

“How about this, baby,” you press your mouth against his ear, “you stay quiet while I give you the best blowjob of your life right now, then I’ll be satisfied and leave you be. Or, I go right back to bed right now and probably ignore you for the rest of the week until you do some grovelling for choosing a video game over your girlfriend.”

Seokjin shudders at your warm breath perforating into him and heaves, jaw hanging slightly open as he throws you one long glance. You see the clockwork in his mind turning as he contemplates your offer, clearly torn. Promiscuity is not his thing, so naturally, getting sucked off by his girl while on a gaming call with his friends presents a difficult dilemma.

“Shit, Y/N-ah…” He laments softly, causing a smirk to bloom across your face. He’s going to cave, you know it. Concentration at the game now dispersed, Seokjin wets his lips in hesitation. “Fine.”

So he caves.

Smug, you drop onto your knees and scuttles around his chair until you’re in the shadows of the desk. He rolls his seat back to allow you emerge between his legs. It’s dark down here, yet you know his body inside out. Lifting his rear off, he allows you to tug his joggers down, your hands not missing the chance to skim past the outskirts of his hips. You see him glance down, teeth gritted.

Kissing up the insides of his thighs, you let your tongue dance lucidly, teasing him until his quads can’t tense any further. There’s already a semi-bulge in his boxers, this lewd boy, and when you palm him over the grey cotton material, his lower half buckles.

Oh this is going to be fun.

When you feel more heat rush down to his groin, and his member grows more erect, you stripe the boxers off too. Your boyfriend is still, quiet, and you have to check that he’s still conscious. He is. Very conscious. Of your little shadow casted face in front of his fat aching cock under the desk.

He gulps again. He’s fucked.

Just as he looks back up at the screen so his vehicle doesn’t fall behind, he feels your tingly breath hovering over his shaft, up and down, as if assessing where to devour first. Unluckily for him, it’s his balls. Sucking on the soft delicate skin, one of your hands comes under to cup him. Seokjin lets out a low whimper that sounds vaguely like mmhhah-.

“Jin-hyung, where did you go? Falling behind already?” Jungkook taunts over the call, the other guys snickering after him.

Seokjin can’t even respond. It’s taking all of him to even keep half his attention on the race, how is he supposed to formulate a functional sentence?

You look up at him, grinning devilishly as you fondle his balls in your hand with your tactful tongue. Although his fingers are still clicking away at the keyboard, he is now looking down at you every few seconds. Progress. After a particularly cruel suck that has him curling his toes, you move to his cock.

It is throbbing violently. It tends to do that - Seokjin is a throbber; if you get him aroused but deprive him of the friction, he pulses up in need. You find something about that so cute.

And so, slowly and lubriciously, you drag your tongue up his tongue in a zigzag, curving around his circumference at every turn. “Aish…” He cries, and you know it’s not because of the game. He looks down, for a long couple of seconds this time. His lips are parted, hand pushing the hair out of his face to reveal that glorious forehead that’s powerful enough to topple kingdoms.

Then you swirl around his head, the rough pad of your tongue pressed hard against him, tasting his salty precum.

“Fuck.” He exhales. He knows you know what you’re doing to him and he’s completely under your influence, helpless. You wonder if his friends can hear his soft curses and moans. A part of you wants them to. Exhibitionism? Who would have thought.

You focus on his slit, licking mercilessly at his oozing opening, lapping up the taste of his arousal. His thigh is now trembling. Yet you don’t stop assailing his tip, slowly taking it in your mouth while your tongue performs its magic. Swirling, licking, flicking, sucking.

Abruptly, Seokjin grabs the mic of his earphones, concealing it in his palm to mask his voice when he says, “baby, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

You just look up at him, wide feign-innocent eyes overflowing in amusement. His own eyes lock on yours, head tilting to the side in exasperation at your antics. His incapacity against your relentless technique sends your cunt surging.

Finally, you take his cock in your mouth, swallowing him inch by inch agonisingly slowly until he pokes the back of your throat. He has to bite down on his lip to prevent those whimpers from escaping. When you slurp up, your tongue continues to draw patterns across his length, feeling his pulsing veins beneath you. Playing with his bollocks at the same time, you release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop.

At this point, you can tell he’s given up on the game, especially when his left hand grips onto your hair, his hips buckling again to push himself into your mouth. The keyboard sounds are decelerating, his eyes fixed on you more than the monitor, only occasional glances up at the game so his kart isn’t completely halted.

You gag as you bob up and down his cock, salivating endlessly to create a slippery friction for the walls of your mouth to mould over him. He fits in you so well. Each time, you try to take in more and more of his length until his whole member is engorged in your mouth. His taste grows increasingly salty, tip crying tears of precum.

Yup, he’s definitely not going to last.

Fingers holding onto your locks tightly, as if holding on for dear life, his chest rises and falls shakily, breath getting heavier. “Shut up, Jimin.” He says into his mic. You wonder what the boy had said.

As your pace increases and strokes of your tongue intensifies, his thighs squeeze around you. He’s desperately falling apart. Maintaining eye contact, his head collapses back, his neck exposed. He’s so close, you can tell.

So you go as fast as you can despite the ache in your jaw, riding him with your mouth, face stretching to encompass his girth. Tears spring to your eyes yet you ignore them. He’s pushing your head up and down now, guiding your speed to pursue his orgasm.

Then-

“O- fuck!” He groans out loud, not even bothering to lower his volume anymore. A moment later, you feel the violent twitch of his shaft followed by a spurt of warm liquid into your mouth. You slow your imbibing, considering his utmost sensitivity right now, and tenderly suck around his ejaculating tip. His whole body convulses, eyes rolling back. He is at utter surrender, both hands cradling your face, legs sprawled out.

“Nothing,” his voice is unstable as he exhales into the mic, “I just- um- spilt water all over my desk.”

‘Spilt water’ indeed.

You swallow his load in your mouth after pulling him out, hand lazily milking out his every last drop. Seokjin is panting as he gazes down at you, caressing your cheek gratefully, fiddling with your red swollen lips.

“I’m leaving, boys, good night.” He mindlessly ends the call with a few clicks and shuts his computer, his whole attention now devoted to you. “I can’t fucking believe you did that.”

Smiling proudly, you answer, “That was fun, wasn’t it.”

“I’m sure it was really fucking fun for you.” Seokjin hauls you up gently from the ground, and jeez, your knees are sore.

Without a second to waste, he pulls you in by the neck to meet his lips, your tongue still bitter from his cum. He’s not normally particularly dominant, yet this time, there is a roughness to his kiss, and an eagerness in the way his arm traps your waist. Walking back step by step, you tumble onto the bed, your core heated from the pool of desire you’ve collected for him. And when he flips and pins you under him, you know you’re fucked for the rest of the night.

“You’re going to regret doing that.”

.

04/12/19

© Copyright 2019

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps it’s Fate, Part 16

Rating: T

Word Count: 1903

Pairing: Poe x Mechanic!Reader

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totelpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​

Taglist is still open! Please let me know if you want to be added! We’ve reached the end of The Force Awakens. I’m not sure if this series will exactly follow canon for The Last Jedi. As always, likes, comments, and reblog are appreciated. I love to hear your thoughts, so please don’t be shy❤️

Poe took you to your “spot” by the lake. You sat between his arms, back pressed to his chest, head resting just underneath his chin. His fingers massaged soft, comforting patterns into your skin. It was hard to believe that not even thirty minutes ago everyone had been fearing for their lives.

You much preferred being here by the lake than back on base with all the celebration; it calmed your nerves. Being with Poe calmed your nerves. He was incredibly intuitive when it came to you; he knew you were anxious, he knew your panic attacks had surfaced during the battle, and he knew that you needed to be away from people to calm down.

“Feel better?” Poe asked, brushing his lips against your hair.

“I do,” you answered, leaning into his touch.

His arms tightened around your waist. Poe was glad that for now you were at peace, but he knew the road ahead was going to be difficult. There was no way the First Order was going to leave the Resistance alone; they’d becoming for them at D’Qar and that meant an evacuation was eminent. Already Poe was planning on sending Black Squadron out on a recruitment mission--he wanted to go with them but he was worried about leaving you behind for that long. 

Noticing that he had gotten quiet, you turned your face towards his. “Poe? Are you alright? You got quiet on me.”

Poe smiled, affectionately. “Lot on my mind, sweetheart. Mainly keeping the Resistance--keeping you safe.”

“Are we going to have to evacuate?”

“I’m afraid so; the First Order knows where we are.”

“What are we going to do now without the Republic?”

“Keep going. If we stop--they win.”

You swallowed, anxiously. There had never been much hope on your home world that the Republic was going to help--that was why you and your friends that escaped there had joined the Resistance. “Do you think we have a chance?”

He sighed, heavily. “I have to believe we have a chance, otherwise, everyone is going to start to lose hope. Once hope is gone--they’ve defeated us.” Gently his lips passed over you temple. “I hate to break up this relaxing moment, but I probably should head back to base--check on Finn.”

It made your heart melt that he was so incredibly caring, even for someone that he had just met a few days ago. You shifted and turned to face him, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss. “I should probably get to work on helping repair some ships anyways. Do you think BeeBee needs to be checked out again?”

Poe grinned. “Probably not, but if you ask him, he’ll say yes. He can’t say no to you, sweetheart.”

“Kind of like his master.”

“I’d argue with you--but it’s true.”

You laughed as he helped you to your feet and you walked hand in hand back to the base. It had quieted down considerably since you’d ventured out to the lake. Everyone seemed to know that the First Order was coming for them and they were going to have to devise an evacuation plan. 

Poe was pulled away for a meeting before he could go check on Finn, so you promised him you’d do it for him.  He gave your hand a squeeze and a grateful look before going to join the rest of the Resistance leaders in Leia’s office. You turned your attention to the medical bay.

Finn was not the only patient, but he was the one that was hooked up to the most machines. He was still unconscious and when Doctor Kalonia saw you, she smiled. “Did Commander Dameron send you?”

“He wanted to make sure Finn was alright,” you said, softly.

“Well, Finn is lucky,” Kalonia replied, “but he’ll be fine.”

A good prognosis was going to make Poe happy; you thanked Kalonia for the update and were about to leave when a young girl caught your eye. You had seen her on the tarmac after the fleet had arrived back on base. She looked anxious, like she had never been around people like this before and you felt a little bit of a kinship with her--you’d felt out of place when first arriving here as well. 

Until BB-8 had rolled into your shop one afternoon, followed by Poe. You looked to see if Kalonia was still standing there but she had moved on. Cautiously you crossed the medical bay and stopped in front of the girl. “Hi. You’re new here, right? I”m Y/N.”

She swallowed, anxiously as her brown eyes took you in. “Rey.”

You smiled. “Your Finn’s friend. He told us about you.”

“Us?”

“Poe and I.”

Rey’s eyes flickered with recognization. “Poe? He’s the pilot; BeeBee-Ate’s master. Finn told us that he died in a crash.”

You smiled, whimsically. “Poe is like a loth cat--he has nine lives apparently. He survived the crash and a kind blarina gave him a ride home to Yavin where he was able to retrieve his x-wing and return to base. Have you had anything to eat?”

She shook her head and chewed on her lower lip. “I just...I don’t want to leave Finn. He was the first person that ever showed they cared about me. I still can’t believe they came back for me. I was prepared to steal a fighter and fly myself out of there.” 

“What about your family?”

“Don’t know where they are. They left me on Jakku.”

“Just...left you there...as a child?”

“Yes. Han, Chewie, and Finn were the closest thing I’ve had to a family.”

Holding your hand out to her, you smiled again. You knew that General Organa and Chewie were grieving the loss of Han Solo, but it appeared so wasn’t Rey.

Rey hesitated at first but then took your hand. You helped her to her feet and silently reassured her that she had friends here amongst the Resistance.

----

Poe wasn’t sure where you had gone too. He went looking for you in your shop after his meeting but found it empty. His search on the tarmac turned up empty as well. He wasn’t alarmed; you were incredibly good at hiding when you didn’t want to be found. 

BB-8 suggested that you were still in the medical bay looking after Finn, and Poe, along with his droid, proceeded there. You were sitting with the girl--Rey--Leia had mentioned her name in the meeting; she was Force sensitive, which was why Kylo Ren was interested in her. 

You were chatting with her and she was smiling, looking more at east than when he’d first seen her on the tarmac. Poe’s heart burst with so much love for you--he knew how hard it was for you to make friends, how shy you were, how insecure you could be around strangers--and here you were befriending a young woman who perhaps needed a friend more than anyone else in the galaxy. 

Something caught BB-8′s attention and he was zooming off, leaving Poe standing just outside the medical bay. You must have heard BB-8 because you had glanced up and were smiling at him. 

Poe was just about to step into the medical bay and join you when someone called his name. Turning he saw Snap. “Skywalker’s droid woke up,” the other pilot told him. 

“Wait? What?” Poe questioned, taking off after Snap. 

“His old astromech. He woke up. Says he has something to show us.”

“Do you think it’s the rest of the map?”

“Hope so.”

They had been searching for the map for a whole year. Poe prayed that R2-D2 had the rest of the map in his storage banks and they could piece it together with the piece that BB-8 was carrying around. Poe couldn’t believe their luck when this actually happened. Happy smiles burst forth through the command center and he caught your eyes. 

You and Rey had seen him run off and followed. Poe locked eyes with you and deepened his smile. This map was the hope he had been talking about down by the lake. Now, they just had to decide who was going to go find Luke Skywalker. 

If Han had still be alive, surely Leia would have suggested that he and Chewie go--but that was no longer an option thanks to Kylo Ren. There were a few murmurs that Black Squadron should go, after all they had been the ones placing themselves in danger to get the map.

Poe hated the fear that flash through your eyes at the thought of him being away again. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was the best one to go. Even though Luke had been friends with his parents, Poe had only met him a couple of times and he’d been small. He was a pretty smooth talker but he wasn’t convinced that even his smooth talking could bring Luke back.

“What about me?” Rey asked, sheepishly.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Leia inquired.

“I know how to fly the Falcon; I could take Chewie and Artoo with me.”

“Rey, you don’t owe the Resistance anything.”

She narrowed her eyes and nodded her head. “I understand that, but I want to help. The Resistance... you are the only people in my life that have shown me any form of kindness.” 

Leia sighed and it was decided; the next morning Rey was going to leave with Chewie and Artoo to go find Luke.

-----

“Do you think they’ll find him?”

Poe sipped his caf the next morning at breakfast. He’d gotten very little sleep the night before, his mind consumed with thoughts about the upcoming evacuation, the First Order, and keeping you safe. “If that map is accurate--they’’l find him.”

You pushed your breakfast around on your tray. “What if Master Skywalker doesn’t want to come back? What if he doesn’t want to help? Rey said that Captain Solo mentioned Master Skywalker felt guilty, that he blamed himself.”

“Rather unfair to blame the choices Kylo Ren made on himself if you ask me.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to come back? You didn’t answer.”

Finishing his caf, Poe pulled you to your feet and the two of you headed towards the tarmac to see the Falcon off. Poe brought his hand to your lips and brushed a kiss across your knuckles. “Don’t worry. He’ll come back.”

Sometimes you hated how hopeful Poe was. You wished you could think that way, but even when you tried, you saw your home world. “I hope he can help Rey--she told me that. she thinks she’s force sensitive. But she’s so scared of it, Poe. She doesn’t want to become Kylo Ren.”

Poe sighed. He felt sad whenever he heard about Rey and her story. He’d grown up with loving parents, and even though his mom had died when he was eight, he never doubted she loved him. Poe had never been looking for a place to belong--he’d always had one. No wonder you had become friends with Rey--you probably felt a connection. to her having lost your homeward and your parents. 

He hung back while you and BB-8 said good-bye to Rey, then Poe, along with most of the Resistance watched as the Millenium Falcon took off to complete the quest that Black Squadron had started--to find Luke Skywalker.

[go-hux-yourself]

Radius

Getting in on that sweet sweet @gingerpilotweek​ action yaaaas! :D I’m late for all the day’s prompts, but here’s something for Day 2: soulmates ♡

Hux and Poe have gravitated around one another many times in war without actually meeting. Every time they unknowingly come into proximity, each other's mark signaling their soulmate is near gets darker and more defined.Hux's mark solidifies itself before Poe's does. Poe is quick on the uptake.

See also on my ao3 here. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

--

Hux’s mother and father were not soulmates. Nor was his father’s wife-- Maratelle Hux- his father’s soulmate.

Unnecessary. Foolish. It was idealist nonsense to distract from accomplishing real goals, nothing more. That’s all it was.

Soulmates were not the end-all of one’s reason for existence in Hux’s opinion, nor was it the singular drive to which he would ever devote his own life. He considered such a thing below his notice and ambitions. Foolish pursuits indeed. He wouldn’t entertain the belief of such things if he hadn’t experienced the force that Leader Snoke possessed personally. That was another lesson he’d learned; not to discount the impossible.

He wouldn’t make such assumptions quite so quickly again.

Still, the idea that he would have a soulmate was ludicrous. At thirty-two, he had no unaccounted-for marks on his body that might belong to some unknown other half, and after reaching the rank of general, he found it childish to cling to such thoughts.

He wouldn’t leave the responsibility of his future up to some force-induced nonsense anyways. Everything he had in life, he’d accomplished on his own merit. No predestination would take credit for that.

The likelihood of someone actually finding their soulmate when the universe was as large as it was bordered on an exercise in a waste of one’s life, anyways. It was rubbish, something he had no need for, and something he frankly wasn’t even sure was real, or if it was, it didn’t apply to him.

...Until he noticed a mark on his arm the day after they captured a Resistance pilot off Jakku.

He’d written it off as a bruise of some sort, or a case of dry skin. But no amount of ointments or passage of time had made it dwindle. The possibility of what that discoloration could mean made a snort of dry mirth go through him, but he chalked it up to overuse of stims and the deadline for Starkiller to become operational. Occupational stress and all that taking it out on his body.

He’d actively kept it from his mind until almost a year later on the day they’d lost the Fulminatrix over D’Qar. Humiliation on the bridge was only added to when he noticed that evening that the mark on his arm had gotten considerably darker, and taken on a more definitive shape. It looked reminiscent of blaster fire. He’d seen enough scars on the veterans in their ranks to identify the work of a blaster, but he’d never been shot in the arm before.

Perhaps, though, his soulmate was.

He was ashamed of the hope that blossomed in his chest at the idea that he himself might have a soulmate, and yet he couldn’t entirely begrudge himself the things it made him feel in the part of himself he kept locked away.

Maybe it was true, just like the impossibility of the force itself. The one was said to have come from the other, or be philosophically related at the very least. He had no force-powers to speak of, null and void, but it didn’t mean such a force couldn’t act upon him. He’d experienced what the force was capable of firsthand.

So he very-probably had a soulmate. That was… something that required much contemplation. It made him wonder what kind of person could possibly be his other half; someone on the wrong end of a blaster, at least.

A soldier of some kind. Within the First Order, perhaps? But no, if it really was true that proximity to meeting one’s soulmate darkened the mark, then Hux’s own general presence amongst his troops would have made it stand out much sooner against his pale skin by now. The fleet was vast, but Hux had personal influence on everything from engineering to what kind of food was served in the Order; surely his mark would have shown a long time prior if his soulmate was among his subordinates.

...Which left a far less favorable option, but one which was statistically more-likely: his soulmate might be among the Resistance. With the kind of luck that seemed to favor him, it probably wouldn’t be a defector to the First Order, either, which only complicated matters and threw the whole idea of him being worthy of a soulmate back into the impossible.

The implications of such a thing haunted Hux as he considered the actual likelihood of such an assumption. The frustration that a potential partner-- and thus ally- was among the Resistance bothered him more than he should allow it. It occupied his thoughts after Kylo Ren had near-strangled him over Crait; after his mark darkened once again on the actual planet’s surface. He’d felt it when it happened. Like an itch or a twitch of the muscle, but in his skin on his arm. Not painful, just… unmistakable.

It made his heart race. Made him anxious in traitorous dreams while his brain tried to reconcile how there might truly, actually be a possibility out there that-- for someone- Hux was the perfect match. Someone meant to be with him, and him by virtue them.

On the opposite side.

It was cruel, even of the unfeeling universe. He saw no possibility of him ever abandoning his post for some unknown Resistance member, soulmate or not. And the possibility of one of their ilk defecting to the Order-- especially for him- was laughable. It was inconceivable.

As inconceivable as the First Order having any kind of future under a leader who wasn’t Hux.

Kylo Ren might’ve usurped the title of Supreme Leader for now, but Hux was patient, and he was clever.

Or he thought he’d been, at least until after Crait. Until Ren populated his new command with men Hux mortally despised.

In barely the span of a year after the incidents at Crait, Hux lost all power and influence he’d once held. He’d very quickly learned to hold his tongue before Ren, though sometimes he couldn’t quite manage it; the insult to the way his Order was being run sometimes got the better of him. The man was destroying everything Hux had worked towards, and everything he’d built.

Ren wasn’t fit for the power he’d stolen, and to prove that undeniable fact in the hopes of inspiring an uprising against him, Hux began to sabotage the force-user’s effort when he could. Little things here and there that were satisfying but likely to go unnoticed, like withholding information he knew he could get away with, or lying by omission.

Hux didn’t start actively passing information to the Resistance until after he’d woken up in the medbay following being throttled by the force hard enough to crack his ribs. He still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly Ren had done to him, only that the pain had made him black out completely, and he had neatly-delineated bruises that matched the paneling on the bridge-console as a result. The combination of bitterness and stims had made him go through with it: warning the Resistance of the foolhardy plan that Ren devised for seizing assets from one of their allies.

It gave him a small sense of accomplishment-- getting information about their operations to the Resistance- to spite Ren and leave his missions unsuccessful. It amused him as well in consideration to the mark he carried on his arm. Was this the link between him and this supposed soulmate that existed on the opposite side? Is this how it begun? The idea had been unfathomable before, yet here he was, forging contacts and unknowingly building the bridge that might bring his soulmate that much closer.

Maybe they’d even help him remove Ren from power. Now there was a fanciful idea.

Hux had been getting away with passing information for months, a perverse little thrill running through him every time a successful information drop was made. Little things here and there-- tip-offs to evacuate Resistance strongholds when a lead on their location proved correct. Political prisoners going missing due to clerical errors. Omitting key cultural facts to the point of insult by those diplomats that the First Order-- or Ren in particular- would benefit from allying with. Small things going wrong that-- on their own, were not suspicious- but together added to the headache of chipping away at Ren’s goals.

Hux was intent to bide his time slowly sabotaging this new path Ren thought he could put the Order on, patient in his assurance that the man would eventually be ousted by all of high command for his incompetence, force-user or not.

It came as a shock-- another cruel laugh from the universe- that everything Hux thought he knew, including the path his Order had been on, was based on lies.

A military might that Hux had only dreamed about now gave the man nightmares; a Sith fleet waiting in the wings to subjugate the universe; the Final Order. Force-users and mysticism; disorder and chaos.

More people like Ren who saw those like Hux as easily-crushable beneath their boot. People who regarded those without the force as beneath themselves. People like Snoke. People like the Emperor. Unnatural and frightening.

It terrified him. Men like Ren didn’t prize merit or skill. They didn’t earn their rank through dedication and hard work, and they had no respect for those who had.

It was enough of a fear that Hux sent everything he could gather on this Final Order to the Resistance. Everything that had been made available to high command, and anything else he could get his hands on with what authority he still possessed.

The fleet these sith madmen possessed would infect the universe, wiping out anyone who stood in their path. The obvious first, decisive target would be the Resistance. They’d barely been hanging on these last months without Hux’s influence and warnings for them to clear out. They’d be found and dealt with swiftly when the fleet made their move.

With the way things had changed these last months, Hux saw the mark on his arm in a different context. Maybe his soulmate wouldn’t easily escape from what was coming. The odds were staggering. But Hux could give them all the warning he could while he could. That was something he could do, giving him the illusion of some kind of control as his plans all went to hell.

The idea of not warning this supposed soulmate never entered Hux’s mind. Now that he knew such a thing could even exist-- exist for him- he wanted to protect even the slightest hope of it; protect whoever among their rank knew who and what Hux was, but was still capable of loving him anyways. Again, something he considered impossible, but enjoyed indulging in stolen thoughts about it.

Hux knew the Resistance forces were small, but their troop-to-kill ratio was impressive. They could handle themselves; survive the coming storm if they fled from known space. He liked the idea that his soulmate might survive if they were smart. There was some sense of victory in that for him, even if he never got to know them.

The Order had been over the frigid planet Kijimi when he became aware of the mark on his arm darkening. Like a tingling, static-y sort of feeling beneath his skin. He put his hand to the spot over his uniform, pressing gloved fingers over the sensation that lingered longer than he’d felt in prior instances.

It made his heart speed up as the implications hit him all at once: his soulmate was near; they hadn’t run from the warned threat. And furthermore, this planet-- at least to his knowledge- was not a Resistance-operating base, which meant his soulmate must be one of those they were currently pursuing.

His heart beat nearly out of his chest while his stomach jumped to lightspeed without him-- anticipation and the gravity of it all becoming as real as the mark on his skin. Was this how they’d meet? Was he destined to shoot his soulmate?

They were on opposite sides. He was certain of that now. Where did that leave him, though? His soulmate among the Resistance… The idea was too much to grasp.

A report interrupted his thoughts: They had Resistance members on board trying to escape with the wookie. They were in custody now, the situation handled and awaiting further instruction.

Hux touched his arm again in the spot there, considering how it looked not unlike a blaster wound, and let his feet follow the officer towards his other half.

--

This is only the first bit of this, the rest will be fond on my ao3 here if you wanna sub ;D

my kofi | ao3 main

[hemaris]

Hello I love your penumbra art and I showed some to my friend who finally started listening to Juno Steel and she said that she's been enjoying penumbra fanart but keeps on seeing fantastic Peter designs and then having to ask where his pockets are. This is not at all a criticism I just needed to share the thought because now I'm wondering too

OKAY THAT IS A GREAT QUESTION so here’s a trio of highly unlikely options for your consideration (put into fic format by someone who has little to no experience writing fic and is, to be completely honest, miles outside of their comfort zone):

nureyev’s pockets contain a - for the lack of a better word - pocket dimension

“You’re full of shit, Steel,” Vespa says. “If you wanna brag about sticking your hands down the thief’s pants, go find someone else to do it to.”

And really, Juno has been at the business end of Vespa’s blade before, but twice in one morning is probably a new record. He bristles. “Okay, first of all, would it really kill you to not wave your knife at me every single time we’re in a room together? Can’t we have one conversation where this doesn’t happen?”

“You started it! You got your finger all up in my face!”

“Yeah, well, my finger doesn’t have a long and celebrated history of gutting people when-”

“Keep it civil, sweethearts,” Buddy says from the other side from their makeshift recreation room, where she and Jet are playing a game Juno has never heard of involving a set of oddly shaped dice, some old Uno cards, and, inexplicably, a pineapple. Vespa moves to sheathe the knife, but makes a whole show out of doing it without averting her icy stare for even a split second. Juno has to suppress the fleeting urge to do something petty and potentially life-threatening, like sticking out his tongue at her.

“Second of all,” he continues, his voice only slightly lowered, “you asked! You asked me about Ransom’s - about his pocket situation, I’m just telling you what I know. And for the record, I never said anything about anyone’s pants. Or where I’m sticking my hands. Or, you know, whatever. Shut up.”

Vespa still hasn’t broken eye contact. “No, Steel,” she says, “I asked you how the thief managed to get an entire cupboard worth of Ming dynasty porcelain off of Titan and onto our ship. What you’re telling me is that he has magical mega pockets that are bigger on the inside, which isn’t a thing.”

“That’s what I used to think about teleportation, and mind reading, but here we are.” The truth is that the porcelain thing is a mystery to Juno as well. He has asked Nureyev, of course, but all he got in response was a that’s for me to know and for you to figure out, isn’t it, detective, which is more than a little annoying. “All I’m saying is that it could be an option. Don’t rule it out just yet.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Vespa says. “Ask him to pull, I don’t know, a live rabbit out of his breast pocket, and maybe I’ll buy into it.”

Juno has to roll his eye at that, and immediatey realizes he’s lost their little staring match. Not that it matters - the odds were stacked against him from the get-go anyway, with Vespa having a whole extra eye to look pissed off with. “Fine, whatever. But just for the record - have you seen a rabbit lately? Because I can guarantee you those things won’t go down or come out of anyone’s pocket willingly, regardless of pocket size.”

It might be a trick of the light, but for a brief moment, he thinks he sees the corner of Vespa’s mouth quirk up just a little.

a strategy once used by juno himself: Just Put It In Your Mouth! it’s mother nature’s built-in pocket!

“Uh oh,” Nureyev says once Rita has successfully hacked the giant metal door to slam shut behind them and they’ve skidded to a halt. He tentatively presses a hand to his throat.

“What- are you-“ Juno wheezes from where he’s doubled over, "Are you okay? They didn’t hit you, right?”

Nureyev makes a dismissive fluttery motion with his free hand. “Nothing of the sort.”

Juno squints at him, giving him a once-over, and seems to sag with relief once he sees Nureyev is not actively bleeding. It’s a little bit endearing, Nureyev thinks. “Okay, whew, good,” he says. “So then - what’s the ‘uh oh’ for? We got the blueprints, we-”

“Let’s say,” Nureyev interrupts him, “hypothetically speaking, that there was some ancient and priceless treasure in the vault we took the blueprints from.”

“That’s not really a hypothetical,” Juno says. “There was enough old Earth monarchy junk in there to bedazzle the entire Carte Blanche with.”

"Right. And now let’s say, once again purely hypothetically,” Nureyev continues, “that someone with only the noblest of intentions noticed the Koh-I-Noor diamond among that treasure, and that that someone decided to free it from the monstrously tacky diadem contraption it was stuck onto, because it’s a waste for something like that to be gathering dust in a vault.”

“You know,” Juno says warily, “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“The problem is that this outfit, while very stealthy, does not provide a great amount of secure pocket space, so i had to improvise.”

“Oh no,” Juno says.

“So I put it in my mouth, but then the guards arrived and while we were running I-”

“Oh no,” Juno repeats, a little louder this time. “Ransom, you - did you eat the Koh-I-Noor?”

“I accidentally swallowed the Koh-I-Noor, there’s a difference-”

“You ate it. You- Ransom, who would even-”

“Who would even what, Juno” Nureyev interrupts him, “There’s this old saying, something about a pot and a kettle, I believe.”

Juno’s comms crackle to life. “RIGHT,” Rita chirps loudly, “I know the both of you are very busy talkin’ about who ate a conifer and why - and i’m not judgin’, mista Ransom, you eat your greens however you wanna! That’s what my mom told me that time I dipped my green beans in marshmallow fluff - which I wouldn’t recommend, by the way, at least not with the beans, it was a WHOLE mess. Maybe with some broccoli, though, or baby carrots, or - anyway, what I was gonna say is they’re about to crack this door open, so I’m just thinkin’, maybe now isn��t the best time for this conversation?”

“He didn’t eat a conifer, Rita, it’s - actually, don’t worry about it,” Juno says. “Let’s get moving. I’m sure Vespa can figure something out to make you hurl the thing up again. But for the record, Ransom, don’t expect me to ever let you hear the end of this.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Nureyev replies. Juno grins a little, crooked and pretty, and Nureyev’s stomach almost somersaults enough to throw the stupid diamond out.

and lastly - why use your own pockets when you can use someone else’s?

“Nureyev,” Juno says against his neck, “can I ask you something?”

They’ve folded themselves onto Nureyev’s cot, neither of them up for more than just lazing around. Nureyev has been trying to study some floor plans for the last twenty minutes, but if he’s being honest with himself, he has no idea what building, owned by what person, built on which planet in whatever system he’s been looking at. He’s mostly been lost in thought, only grounded by the weight and warmth of Juno pressed against his side. He had thought the lady asleep until now.

It’s a little ridiculous, the effect his own name being spoken by Juno Steel has on him. He’s fairly sure that with Juno this close, he should be able to feel the shiver it sends down his spine, pick up on the stutter in his pulse. It’s okay if he does, he tries to tell himself, it’s okay, it’s only Juno - but at the same time Juno is infinitely, immeasurably more than 'only Juno’ to him.

“Of course,” he replies. “Anything, anytime.”

Juno hums. “Earlier, when we got back from the media bigwig backstabbing competition-”

“It was an award show, dear Juno.”

“I said what I said. Anyway, when we got back, there was something in my pocket that I definitely didn’t put there myself.”

Oh.

“A flash drive,” Juno continues, “that had the name ’M. Valderrama’ engraved into it. And a crazy amount of plastic rhinestones glued to it, but that’s not the point. I didn’t wanna risk it containing a virus and blowing up the ship, so I didn’t plug it into anything. But I did do my research, so I know Mignon Valderrama was at the backstabbing- I mean, the award show, and is the acclaimed director of titles such as ’The Notebook Part 44: This Time They’re All Ancient Mercurians’, the entire ’Ultra Magma Tsunami’ franchise, and the upcoming-”

“The upcoming blockbuster ’Cerebral Cephalopods: Rise of the Mathematician Octopi’,” Nureyev finishes.

Juno shifts against him. "Yeah, that’s the one. Didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Nureyev replies airily.

“Still,” Juno says, propping himself up on an elbow. “I have to wonder. How and why did mx. Valderrama’s flash drive, rhinestones and all, end up in my pocket?”

“Hmm. Would you believe me if I told you mx. Valderrama tripped, and the drive flew out of their pocket and into yours?”

Juno shakes his head. “C'mon, Nureyev.”

And for a moment, he hesitates. It’s not the best of stories. There’s no real noble, for-the-greater-good, Robin Hood-esque reason for him stealing the drive. He didn’t do it for the challenge, either - Valderrama might as well have presented it to him on a silver platter. Sure, he could make something up, spin a tale, make it sound big and impressive and sensible. But despite the alarm bells going off in his mind, he also thinks it might not be so bad to tell the truth, to bare his throat to Juno just a little. Of course, his own voice echoes, anything, anytime.

He sighs. “I might not be a fan, but I believe your secretary is. She’s been talking about those Magma Tsunami movies for days. They are horrible, by the way - she made me sit through two of them and I can’t believe I’m never getting those four hours of my life back. Valderrama should be liable for damages to my psyche. The drive, as you probably guessed, contains what I’m pretty sure is the final cut for whatever that octopus movie is supposed to be, so I snatched it up for her. My dress didn’t have any pockets, so I slipped it into one of yours. I must have forgotten to slip it out again.”

Juno frowns. “Wait - Rita? Did she ask you to? Because at this point i’m pretty sure she could hack into the studio’s servers in a heartbeat, and rip the whole thing-”

“She didn’t ask,” Nureyev says. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. But she wouldn’t have been able to get her hands on this by hacking. Valderrama is famously paranoid about leaks. All of their works-in-progress are stored on only a handful of physical drives until the day of release. One of the drives goes into a vault with a nightmarishly difficult analogue lock, one goes to the executive producer, and Valderrama keeps one of them on their person at all times. I saw my chance, so I took it.”

“Huh,” Juno says, “that's… that’s kind of sweet of you, actually.” He prods Nureyev in the chest with a finger. “And very illegal, and you shouldn’t do it again. But still. That's… yeah. That’s sweet. She’s gonna be over the moon.”

That’s what he’d been hoping for. He smiles, shrugging a little. “We’re space pirates, Juno. Most of what we do is illegal. We got into the award party illegally, and for illegal reasons. Valderramma will make their billions with or without that drive. It’s just-” he sighs again, raking a hand through his hair. “Rita is very important to you, which - which makes her very important to me. She’s been there for you all these years, and she’s never been anything but kind to me either. I’m not trying to buy her friendship or her appreciation, I suppose I just… think she deserves something nice, especially if that something is within arm’s reach anyway. Even if that something is a movie about hyperintelligent squids taking over Mars’ moons.” He lets his head fall back into the pillows. “I know that might sound a little foolish.”

Juno leans into him a little more, cupping Nureyev’s jaw in his warm hand, looking a little bit puzzled and a lot fond. “I’m pretty sure you already know that I love your particular brand of foolish,” he says after a second.

And before Nureyev has the chance to think about what that means for too long, Juno is kissing him, wiping any semblance of thought from his mind.

[anxiouslynumbme]

Carmuel Missing Scenes/Moments

A/N: Hello! I hope you're all doing well. So I was planning on posting the last 2 parts on the same day but that would've taken way too long, so I decided to just post the part I'm done with. I also forgot to add a quick note for last chapter, I’m aware that I ignored the show’s timeline (with 3x07 and 3x08.)----I kinda just put the whole murder plot in 3x07, 'cause it worked with the chapter. But mainly, it's because I wanted 3x08 to entirely be about Carmuel/Samucarla. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy.

WARNING: (Explicit Sexual Situations, Strong Language.)

3x08 - Part 1

_______________________________________________________

Given everything that'd happened, Carla was taking her time to get back into the swing of things. But then again things had been terrible, so maybe she shouldn't bother. A fresh start was probably the best option and she was lucky that she even had one. Carla had dodged too many bullets, it was time she stopped walking into the line of fire.

Going to Polo's funeral had provided a closure Carla didn't know she'd needed. She wasn't just letting go of someone she loved, she was letting go of everything that'd come with him. Unfortunately, it also meant she had to let go of all the good memories as well. And that when sadness hit viciously, mourning for Polo, the Polo she remembered before all that shit had happened. He was gone, and Carla wanted to believe that she could remember him for the good things because the bad things had been buried with him. But it wasn't that simple, was it?

Life for her had gotten calmer after the funeral, stagnant, even. Carla liked that, it was a much needed change of pace. But life was also moving fast, soon everyone was starting their own journey, paving their own path, and while Carla never liked to admit to these kind of things, it was sad that they wouldn't be sharing their lives with each other anymore.

Carla wasn't gonna lie to herself, she didn't have many friends, there were a few select people she was going to miss when she left Spain. And try as she might, Carla couldn't stop thinking about one person in particular. Samuel had occupied her mind every second of every day.

They had called each other, it was mostly Samuel. Carla was still feeling a considerable amount of guilt and she had tried to keep their phone calls short and terse. She was preparing both of them. But Samuel, Samuel was relentless, calling, trying to get her to agree on meeting.

But then everything changed.

Carla had told him the exact date she was leaving and it was like a bucket of ice water that she'd felt being dumped on both of them over the phone.

And that was when Samuel had started pulling back. He called less and less and when Carla was brave enough to call, sometimes he didn't answer. Days passed quickly after that, Carla got busy making arrangements for the wineries and Samuel was busy avoiding her, so she didn't really know what was going on in his life.

Carla would be lying if she said his actions weren't just a bit confusing; since he was the one so adamant on 'hanging out' before she left. But Carla also knew he was only trying to protect himself from what he knew was coming, or maybe he was just done with her. Which was what Carla wanted in the first place. So why was she so frustrated with him?

Carla was getting more irritated with the situation every day. Samuel had finally realized she was right and he was letting her go. She should be grateful that he'd woken up and realized they had no chance of a future anymore.

Carla was glad, she was okay with it. Until Lu and Guzmán had planned an outing to get everyone together, including Samuel, of course.

The gathering was held at this cute, cozy bar. It was pretty mellow and atmospheric; twinkling lights all over the ceiling, soft music playing in the background so people could actually hear each other. A perfect place for friends to hang out before everything changed and they all went their separate ways.

They were all currently sitting around two tables, which they'd pushed together earlier in the evening. And other than a 'hello' that was meant for the entirety of their group, Samuel hadn't tried talking to her, he didn't even grant her a private greeting.

Good for him. It was for the best.

"All right, darlings," Lu began, standing up and addressing the table, raising her glass. "I'd like to make a quick toast. . .we've survived some serious shit, haven't we? It's a little crazy to think about the insanity that's been in all of our lives. Everyone here has been through a lot, some of it we share, some of it we don't. But we're all here right now. Together. And I'd like to think that we've grown enough to understand each other.

"To be there for each other, even if it's not physically." Lu paused, eyes brimming with tears. "I guess I'm just grateful that when it mattered most, I wasn't alone. We'll never forget what we've been through and who we lost - " Lu's breath caught in her throat as she stuttered over her words and Carla felt an instant need to comfort her friend, grabbing her hand and squeezing gently.

Sitting on the other side of Lu, Nadia put a hand on Lu's shoulder, rising up next to her and nodding reassuringly as she started speaking. "As Lu was saying, we'll never forget. We are always bound. So here's to everything. To the people we lost.To the good memories and the bad ones, too. To Las Encinas, for bringing us all together...to long nights spent studying and - "

"Oi, speak for yourself!" Rebeca exclaimed jokingly, causing a round of laughter to break out.

"Anyway." Nadia glared playfully at Rebeca, before turning to smile softly at Lu. "To unexpected friendships. To the scary, uncertain future. To sticking together no matter what, and having faith even when things turned bleak and it felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. To - to loving each other regardless of the consequences." Nadia said the last part staring at Guzmán and he was staring right back.

Carla found her eyes darting to Samuel, catching his eyes for less than a second before he quickly averted them.

Nadia wiped a single tear that'd escaped her eyes, before smiling widely at the whole table. "To friends. To family!"

"Yeah!"

"Damn right!"

Cheers and excited affirmations exploded all around Carla, who was only focused on one thing.

While Carla had no right to be angry with Samuel, she was a little pissed off at his new found dismissive nature. Ever since she'd decided to study abroad, Carla's been having second thoughts, but they were just thoughts. Normal, predictable doubts that came with big decisions and life-changes. It didn't mean Carla was going to stay and it definitely didn't mean Samuel was going with her.

They were too young to feel like this. Carla questioned her sanity sometimes, the fact that it seemed like she was always going to be this far gone for him. How could someone feel this much at this age? That was why she'd pretended her feelings for him were sexual compatibility for the longest time. Their chemistry was just intense and it could be easily interpreted into something more than it was.

But staring at him on the other side of the table as he talked with Omar, her eyes unable to focus on anything else, Carla was hit with realization yet again that she was in love with him.

Samuel was wearing a simple black, long-sleeved shirt with faded blue jeans. His hair was longer, but not too long, just long enough to make her fingers itch to run through it. His lips relaxed into half a smile as he listened to whatever Omar was telling him. Her eyes shamelessly admired his features. His sharp jaw which she wanted to lick with her tongue, his rosy, full lips that she wanted to kiss until they were both crying out for air. The slim, pointy slope of his nose, releasing breaths she wanted to feel on her skin.

Then Carla reached his eyes. And they weren't on her.

And she fucking hated how her heart kept yanking its own strings calling out for them to stay on her. They always had. His eyes were always on her, one way or another, they always seemed to find her and latch on. But Samuel hadn't looked at her, really looked at her since that morning after Polo's death.

After their conversation that day. Carla had finally allowed herself to believe they were going to take advantage of whatever time they had left, that it wasn't the worst idea in the world. The other - more logical and prominent part - knew it was easier to just let things be, and not stir any more unnecessary pain. They'd had enough of that, it was better to leave things, untouched, clean, and simple for once. It was naive and reckless to start something when she knew the ugly, inevitable end.

And yet as Carla watched him, she suddenly didn't care much about any of that, she knew the risks and she still wanted him one last time. But it seemed Samuel was more in agreement with his logical side these days. The one time she wanted him to give in to his feelings and run to her head on, he was distant and guarded.

Carla knew he felt her gaze. Every time she trained her eyes on him, she could literally see him squirm in his seat, his fingers raking through his soft hair as he pretended to listen to the conversations around him. And Carla could feel his own fleeting gaze when he thought she wasn't aware of it.

Carla decided it was time she made a move before letting him go forever. Just one last conversation. She just wanted to look at him.

Samuel was getting a drink from the bar when Carla walked up to him. "Hello."

He visibly stiffened but glanced her way. "Hi. How have you been?"

"Good, you?"

"Good."

God, this was ridiculous.

"Uh, wanna a drink?"

"No, I actually can't drink, Nina's orders."

"For how long?"

"She promised soon I'll be able to, little by little. And soon better come quickly because I'm losing my mind a little."

That earned her half a grin. "I'm sure. But hey, alcohol isn't that great, you know? You're not missing much." he tried feebly.

"Says the guy who can drink any time he wants."

He smiled. "Fair enough."

Carla took a deep breath. "Wanna go for a walk?"

What was she doing? Why was she pushing it?

"A walk? Now? It's quite late."

"Yeah, it's too crowded in here."

It really wasn't.

Samuel looked away from her. "I - I don't think that's the best idea."

"Oh. Why?"

"You know why."

"I do." she sighed. Fuck. "Well, I'm just gonna get some fresh air before going home. Good night, Samuel."

Carla went back over to say her goodbyes quickly before making her way out of the bar. Samuel was finally being smart about his relationship with her, and Carla was still trying to get him alone. Carla felt helpless, she honestly wanted to just talk to him, know exactly why the sudden change of heart, what had changed.

So Carla'd made a risky play with him just now. But if she knew Samuel at all, it wasn't actually all that risky.

And sure enough after a few seconds of being outside, he was on her tail.

"Really, Carla?"

His voice came out annoyed and Carla grinned; before turning around to face him. "What?"

"You're seriously making me walk with you?"

"And how am I doing that?"

Samuel cocked his head, quirking an eyebrow. "You know I'm not gonna let you walk by yourself at this hour."

Carla beamed. "Samuel, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. It's not my fault you're sexist and think women need looking after."

Samuel scoffed, gaping at her like a fish out of water and Carla bit her lip trying to hold in her laughter.

"I know what you're doing," he grumbled but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "And I'm not sexist, I'm protective."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

Samuel shook his head and started moving his way down the street. "You're unbelievable."

Carla took two fast strides to keep up with him. "Thank you."

He smirked, eyeing her. "Wasn't a compliment."

"It sounded like one to me."

"Of course it did."

They were quiet for a moment as they strolled side by side. The street was so calm, peaceful. The only light available was the gentle yellow and red glow from the lamp posts around them. It seemed like no matter where they ended up being, things were just always calm and serene with Samuel.

"That bar was really nice," Carla told him.

Samuel smiled. "Oh, yeah? You liked it?"

"Yeah, very comfortable."

"I go there all the time. I showed it to Guzmàn, he seemed to think it was great for a hang out."

Carla should've known. The place had Samuel written all over it. And she'd just noticed it was actually close to his neighborhood. "I see why you love it,"

"Yeah, when I'm there, it kinda feels like home somehow."

"Hmm." In a corner of Carla's mind, she wondered why had he never shown her the place.

A beat of silence and then he asked nervously. "Are you hungry? There's this awesome 24 hour American diner nearby."

There was the Samuel she had been missing, the one who wanted to spend time with her. A tug of guilt followed her selfish thoughts. She had to say no. But Carla was leaving soon and it wasn't a crime to want to be with him one last time.

Fuck it.

"Sure."

"Great, but it's actually not that close, walking might be a bit of a drag."

"How far?"

"Near my building, which is not that far from here, maybe seven blocks away from it."

"Okay, we can call a cab then."

"It's also not that far," he chuckled, pausing to look around, considering something. "You know what, we could just bike there."

Samuel started striding back towards the bar, which they were now half way down the street from, noting that she wasn't following him, he gestured for her to come along. "My bike is by the bar."

Oh, no.

Carla trailed behind him toward his bike and and some other bike she'd never seen before. "We could just call a car." she tried again

Samuel glanced at her. "It's not worth it. Don't worry, you won't ride with me, you can borrow Omar's."

"I'm wearing a skirt."

"So?"

"It'll be more difficult, I think," she said lamely, wishing she was at least wearing high heels, so she could use that as an excuse, but no such luck.

He straightened up from unlocking his bike and gazed at her dubiously. "Carla. . .do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Of course I do." and she did. A little. 

Samuel was onto her, Carla could see it through the poorly hidden laughter in his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this should be no problem. Come on."

"I don't want to."

"Right. Because you can't."

"I told you I can."

His smile stretched even wider as he crossed his arms behind his back. "Okay, let's see it then."

They stared each other down for a long moment, Samuel wasn't backing down, challenging her with his eyes. Whatever.

"Fine, I can't ride a bike, happy?"

Samuel laughed heartily. "A little. I bet the first thing you learned was driving a car, right?"

She smiled. "No, I used to know how, self-taught, actually. I'm just a bit rusty."

He furrowed his brows. "Self-taught?"

Carla shrugged, not wanting to sound at all like she was complaining, feeling especially privileged for what she was about to say. "Yeah, I never needed it, you know. But one day, my parents felt like I should have one anyway, so they bought it for me, but never really bothered to teach me.

"But I used to watch Mirella teaching her kids on these really old bikes and I silently took pointers from afar. However, it got boring rather quickly, so I just gave my bike to one of her kids. You're right, I prefer cars anyway."

His frown deepened but then he shook his head. "Okay then, that's all right, we could hail a taxi, or. . ." he trailed off with an sneaky smile.

"Or what?" Carla asked, confused.

"I could teach you."

Carla laughed. "No, thank you."

"It's so easy. You said you know the basics, right?"

"Yes, but I - "

"That'll make it even easier. It'll be fun, I promise." he stepped towards her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her over to the bike. Carla was so focused on the touch of his hand on her skin that she'd missed when he called her name.

"Carla?"

"This is useless. I don't need to, Samuel. There's a reason why I never had to learn." she huffed, successfully covering up her flustering thoughts.

"Riding a bike is a very important skill to learn. Get on." he said, fixing the seat, so it could be higher.

"You just never give up, do you?"

"Nope. Get on, let's go."

Releasing a breath, she climbed on to the saddle. "Now what?"

Samuel grinned, looking her up and down in a way that made her insides clench. "You pedal." he joked.

"Wow, you should do this professionally."

"It's an option, for sure." he laughed lowly.

"All right now, we need to work on your balance," he began seriously. "Stand up, but you should be touching the seat, that's why I adjusted its height - yes, exactly like that - and just walk forward with the bike."

Carla started to slowly walk, instinctively looking down at her feet.

"No, don't look down, look straight ahead." he instructed, Carla tried to keep her gaze ahead, but every few seconds she would peer down again.

"It's okay," Samuel said, moving in front of the bike, facing her. "Just look at me, it'll make it easier to have something to focus on."

It was easier. Once she'd looked up, her gaze locking with his, Carla's eyes didn't move to her feet again. She was so lost in his eyes, that she hadn't noticed they were half way down the street again and the startling fact that her feet weren't touching the ground.

"Good, good," Samuel encouraged, voice a bit husky. "Keep them off the ground, it's all about balance."

They worked on her balance for a long time, Samuel insisting it was the most important part. Until finally he decided she was ready to try pedaling.

"Let's stop for a second," he then bent down, catching her right ankle and Carla almost jumped at the sensation. Fixing the pedal up in the right position, he looked up at her, meeting her eyes and something about the moment was - strangely hot and arousing.

Samuel stood back up, puffing out a heavy breath. "Okay, walk again, and then slowly start with your right foot.

"Yes, like that, and then you can add the left."

Carla followed his instructions slowly starting with her right, followed gently by the left. And then she was actually pedaling, the bike started to glide down the street.

Samuel hurriedly jogged next to her, one hand holding the handlebar and the other was on her lower back, caging her in, in case anything went wrong.

After a while of Samuel keeping up with her, Carla felt confident enough on her own. "Okay, I think I got it now. You can let go."

"You sure?"

"Positive." he hesitantly loosened his grip, Carla was okay at first but the bike suddenly started to wobble and Carla stumbled sideways, but thankfully, Samuel was immediately there, steadying her before she fell.

She giggled. "Sorry, let's try that again."

And they did, again and again until she finally got the hang of it.

"All right, I'll concede, this is pretty fun," she said, after riding alone a few times, Carla glanced up at Samuel; to find him already looking at her with such fondness in his eyes, it made her swallow harshly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Smiling looks good on you, that's all."

"Are you using a line on me, Samuel?" Carla quipped, trying to hide the way her cheeks heated at his statement.

His lips curled coyly, taking a step closer to her, holding the handlebar and bending his head down so he could stare at her as she straddled the bike seat. His eyes finding hers with evident lust, flicking to her lips and then back up.

"I don't need it."

No, he didn't. That look alone made her core prickle with attention.

Carla loved all sides to Samuel. But this one - the confident side; that had first confronted her that day at the club, that'd grabbed her by the neck and lay the best kiss of her life on her lips - she particularly and immensely enjoyed that side.

"A bit cocky, are we?"

Samuel tilted his head to the side, shrugging innocently while a sly grin graced his beckoning lips. He was so fucking handsome.

This whole biking lesson was already weirdly turning her on and this wasn't helping the situation. Carla needed to kiss him. She leaned in a little more, feeling a bit dazed from his breath dancing on her lips, Samuel didn't move away, his chest now heaving as their mouths softly, teasingly grazed each other.

Suddenly Samuel pulled back, clearing his throat loudly with a cough. "Uh, okay, yeah, so let's get something to eat, right?"

The sting of rejection was stuck in her lungs and Carla tried to gulp it away. She shouldn't have even tried, he'd made the right move.

Quickly brushing it away, glad that he still wanted to hang out. "Yeah, let's do it."

"I'll send Omar a text to tell him we're taking his bike, he's going home with Ander anyway."

"You have the key?" she asked, knowing there must be a U-lock on Omar's bicycle.

"I have a copy, he has mine as well."

"That's adorable."

"Shut up."

A minute later they were on their way. The breeze felt so good on her skin, gliding down the street next to Samuel. It was incredibly cliche, but Carla had never felt so free or so at peace as she was in that moment. She let out an abrupt, loud laugh of giddiness, Samuel turned to look at her with a huge smile on his face.

"What?" he asked, raising his voice so she could hear him in the space between them.

"I love this!" she shouted back.

Samuel laughed along with her. "Told you!"

Letting go of the handlebars, Carla spread her arms wide open, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair.

"No, no, Carla! You're not ready for that yet. Put your hands back!"

"Stop worrying!" she said, still laughing for some reason.

"Put them back, Carla. Now!"

"You've never done this?"

"Of course I have, I've been doing it since I was a child."

"This is my first time. Don't let me do it alone."

Carla could see him rolling his eyes even from her position, before finally complying with her request. Both of them holding out their arms like six-year old idiots, their laughter ringing across the quiet street.

_______________________________________________________ 

"I told you to hang on." Samuel scolded for the tenth time since they'd sat down in the booth.

"Samuel, it's just a scratch. I'm fine."

Carla had fallen off Omar's bike, one second she was having fun and laughing, the next she'd swerved to the side and landed on her ass. There was a small scratch on her knee and a slightly bigger bruise on her elbow.

"Carla, I'm sorry, I should've known you weren't ready to ride - "

"Samuel, I swear, I'm okay. It's not even bleeding, I'm sure you've had a lot worse," she said, holding the ice bag to her elbow - that Samuel'd asked for once they'd reached the diner.

Okay, so maybe it hurt a little but he didn't need to know that.

"It was really fun." Carla hastily added when he tried to open his mouth to protest.

"Yeah, it was." he smiled but it quickly vanished, replaced with a frown. "But you're hurt."

"Oh my god, Samuel, drop it. I'm fine."

"All right, all right, I'll stop."

A second later the waitress arrived at their booth, carrying their food trays.

"There you go, sweethearts," she said warmly, putting down their burgers and sodas on the table. "Need anything else?"

Samuel looked at Carla to confirm she didn't need anything, before answering. "No, thank you."

"Enjoy your meal," she said, sauntering away.

"Bacon on burger. Why have I never tried this before?" Carla wondered at the flavor exploding in her mouth.

"To be honest, I'm surprised you've even tried burger or bacon at all." Samuel teased, taking a bite.

Carla wanted to retort but in all honesty, he was right. She wasn't much into junk food.

She shrugged, agreeing. "I've only tried it once or twice."

"Ooh, one too many."

Carla smiled. "Most of the burgers I ate were cooked at home, where we can make sure they're organic and healthy."

"Of course."

"They're actually pretty good, you should try it."

"I'll stick to my greasy, unhealthy food, thanks." he grinned.

"Don't knock it till you try it, Samuel. Follow my example," she said, proving her point by taking another bite of her burger.

Samuel's eyes suddenly clouded with emotion, his voice was soft as he pointed to her chin. "You have something . . ."

A transporting moment of a nostalgic memory hit Carla hard and fast. She could see it in Samuel's eyes that he had been transferred to it as well. The beautiful, heartwarming memory that usually brought her comfort thinking about it, was now chocking her as she stared into his eyes.

Carla looked away first, feeling a wild urge to flee. She plucked a napkin from the box in front of her and wiped all around her mouth. "Did I get it?"

"Um, yeah," he replied, his voice conveying a hint of sadness.

The silence that followed was tense and awkward and she hated it. Carla hated it so much, she was willing to bring up a topic of discussion they were both trying to steer clear of.

"One more year at Las Encinas, you must be thrilled," she said sarcastically, hoping that the topic wouldn't completely ruin their night.

Samuel snorted, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it. "Oh, I am. I can't wait."

Carla smiled softly. "I'm sorry. But it's better than expulsion, right?"

Samuel didn't answer right away, peering around the diner thoughtfully. "I guess, yeah."

"It wasn't fair. What'd happened wasn't fair. At least they fixed it, though, and you can finish school now."

When he only nodded in response, Carla contemplated asking her next question. "Speaking of, do you know what you wanna do - after?"

"Um, kinda, yeah. I think I wanna be a lawyer."

That made so much sense.

"I can see it," Carla said, sipping her soda.

"Really?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

"Oh, definitely. If anyone is gonna bring justice to the people who need it, it's you, Samuel."

Shyness washed over his features as he smiled at her. "Thank you, I hope I'm able to."

Carla wasn't so lucky in that aspect, she didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life. That was why studying abroad was a good idea. Traveling could expand her horizon, gain her some experience.

"You know." Samuel's voice stopped her racing thoughts. "You'd make a great lawyer, too."

"What? I highly doubt that." she laughed dismissively.

"I'm serious. You could talk your way out of anything."

She gaped at him. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is."

"Okay - would that be much help as a lawyer?"

"Of course it would be, you could do it for other people. You can say anything and the judge and jury won't stand a chance."

For some reason, his words didn't set well with her. "So you're saying that I'll be able to defend the guilty by what - Lying or manipulating my way out?"

Samuel looked genuinely shocked. "That was not what I meant at all. And I never said guilty or lying or - "

"It was implied."

"No, it wasn't. Carla, I just meant - "

"No, it's okay," she cut him off. "you're not wrong."

Samuel didn't say anything back for the longest time, and Carla was unsure if she should be thankful for that or not.

"I'm sorry," he started cautiously. "I realize now how it sounded. But I honestly didn't mean it that way. I just meant you're very persuasive and smart and calculating. And yes, sometimes you can be a bit cunning. But that doesn't mean you won't use it for the good side."

"Okay . . . So you're saying if I were to be a lawyer, I could use my dark powers to do good."

Samuel laughed lightly. "Something like that. You would help people, Carla, I'm sure of it."

Samuel made Carla question herself in the best way possible. Carla knew she wouldn't do much good in the world. But there he was, making her believe she was capable of more, that she was better than she believed.

"I guess we'll never know, because I'll never be a lawyer."

"You could if you wanted to."

She grinned. "That's the thing, I don't want to."

"All right, that's fair." he half-smiled.

They spent the next hour focusing back on their food, discussing random things, and avoiding the giant elephant in the room.

"Do you wanna get dessert?"

Even though Carla was full, she didn't want the night to end, so she said yes.

"What would you like?"

Carla skimmed over the menu. "I could go for some ice cream."

"Me too, that sounds good."

Later as they were eating the tasty treat, it was kinda pathetic how they were both eating the ice cream they'd ordered so slowly, it was starting to melt.

It was painfully obvious that neither one of them wanted the night to be over.

Samuel was beginning to affect her ability to function. The ache she could feel in her bones for him was constant and incessant. Carla was terrified to think she might always feel like this. The relentless need to be near him, the permanent place that had nested in her heart with his name engraved on it. It was too much to think about. The always of it all.

Because Carla missed him so much and she was doomed to miss him forever.

Carla couldn't bring herself to be selfless and call it a night. To tell him 'this was fun, I'll see you when I see you, I guess'. What could she say to him? Was this goodbye? Was this the last time she would ever see him, in this American diner tonight?

It didn't feel right. But Carla couldn't ask him to stay longer either.

"Come home with me." Samuel blurted out so suddenly and so fast, Carla wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

"What?"

Samuel sighed deeply, his fingers running through his hair. Glancing away before settling his burning, yet nervous gaze back on hers. "Come back with me, I mean, we could just continue talking and stuff at mine - if you want to."

Carla's heart hammered in her chest. "Well, I do have to make sure you arrive home safely."

His smile was bright and wide. "That would make me feel better."

_______________________________________________________

The tension was suffocating in the narrow hallway in front of Samuel's house. Both of them stood there, not moving. Facing each other.

Time had stopped for them, their eyes refusing to look at anything but one another. Samuel didn't open the door and Carla knew it was because of what was going to happen once they were inside, the thought of it terrifying as much as it was exhilarating. They could both feel it, they couldn't hide from it anymore.

They were succumbing. Carla felt it in the simmering heat around them, their bodies were done fighting it, it was inevitable. Her skin was starting to itch, agitated with the need for his touch, she could uncomfortably feel how ready she was for him. And Carla could see it all over Samuel, his erratic breathing, the way he fidgeted in the spot, the way he clenched his fists in anticipation.

But Samuel's yearning eyes also looked scared, actually they were terrified.

"I want you, Carla. I want you so much," he said thickly.

The desire in his voice, his eyes, all contradicted his sudden apprehensive body language.

"Samuel, you don't have t - "

"You don't understand," he interrupted urgently. "I feel like I can't do this because of how much I want you. It's fucking painful."

Her stomach twisted anxiously. "Okay, I --"

"You're leaving, Carla."

"I know." her eyes lowered with guilt. She was making it harder for both of them. "I'm sorry, you're right. This was a bad idea, we shouldn't."

When Samuel didn't say anything in return, she instantly got the message. Carla nodded curtly, making a move to leave.

Samuel caught her arm before she could twitch another muscle, edging his body so close to hers, his smell enclosing the space around her; till she was breathing in nothing but him.

"We shouldn't because it's going to hurt like hell when we're done. I'm gonna have to let you go after. Again." his voice was low and pained.

"I know." was all she could say, her eyes glued to his.

"But I - I think it's gonna hurt way more if I let you go when I know I can have you right now. Even if it's temporary. I can't live knowing I wasted a chance to be with you."

His words made their way throughout her entire body, spreading warmth all over. "Samuel, I'm sorry --"

He shook his head vehemently. "No more talking."

Her heart thudded heavily at his abrupt throaty command. And then her next breath was stolen by his mouth crashing down on hers. Carla gasped, the familiarity of his lips, his taste, making her want to moan in relief while simultaneously crying.

Samuel parted her lips open, spinning her around till her back hit the front door, his tongue tangling with hers. His exploration was deep and slow and it made Carla's ache rise to new heights, she gripped his hair tightly, scared that this moment like all the others they had shared, was short-lived and fleeting. Or worse, it was just a dream. These thoughts made her latch onto him harder, pulling him closer, her lips leaving his and trailed open mouthed kisses down his neck, sucking and biting the way she'd wanted to for what felt like forever. She could vaguely feel his hand digging into his pockets, probably fetching his keys.

"Fuck, Carla - I can't think." He groaned in her ear. "I need to get my keys."

Carla continued leisurely, her hands traveling down his chest until she was palming his hard member through his jeans. Samuel growled lowly, fisting her hair, pulling her head back and connecting their lips passionately.

He was right, Carla couldn't think either, it was hard to concentrate on anything except devouring him. But they needed to get that key.

Carla pushed him back slightly. "I got it." slapping his hand away from his pocket.

Samuel let out a low sound of protest when she let go of his lips, but he quickly got to work on her neck, desperately lavishing her skin with his tongue. She managed to finally pull his key, which was buried inside his left pocket under his phone.

"Found it." Or at least Carla hoped she did and it was the right one.

Samuel mindlessly grabbed it from her hand, trying clumsily to slide it into the lock.

"Ugh, where the fuck...?" he whined impatiently. Her hands moving all over him, distracting him even further.

Finally the door was shoved open, both of them stumbling inside, Samuel kicking the door shut after them. He blindly walked her back until she could feel herself meeting the wall beside the kitchen. His hands couldn't seem to decide which part of her to touch, his fingers tracing and clutching whatever inch of her he found, sneaking under her blouse and tracing the soft skin enticingly. His lips kissing up and down her neck deliciously, his teeth biting, before smoothing his tongue over the mark lovingly.

Carla wasn't fairing any better, enthusiastically hiking up his shirt, needing it off him. Samuel backed off for just a second to peel it off and throw it to the side. He immediately dove back in, his palms traveling up her thighs and under her skirt, tracing the outline of her underwear before ripping the thin material off.

Carla gasped at the action. They were both desperate, feverish and so fucking eager. She could feel the overwhelming, blazing eruption of physical and emotional need. Pent up feelings and sexual desires. Denied love. All of it was spurting into million bursts of electrical charge being passed back and forth between them.

This was them, unabashed and unreserved. It was that magnetic bond they couldn't explain.

"We should slow down but I can't." he rasped against her lips. His fingers leaving her waist to unbuckle his belt, trying to unzip his jeans hastily.

They weren't slowing down. They had time to savor and indulge later.

Carla took a moment to appreciate the sight of a shirtless Samuel with his jeans unzipped and low on his hips. Her hands took charge, frantically sliding her palm under his boxers, fingers grazing him gently.

"Fucking hell." he moaned hoarsely, lips attacking her collar bones, his fingers tugging on her green, silky blouse impatiently, finally unbuttoning the damn thing and sliding it off her shoulders swiftly. Carla's palm was now stroking him gently, her fingers tightening their grip each time.

"Fuck, stop, Carla, I won't . ." Samuel broke off with a keen groan, his hand catching hers to stop its movement before slamming it against the wall beside her head, his lips instantly finding hers again.

His free hand slid back under her skirt, finding her heated sex, his finger delicately touching her sensitive clit, rubbing softly in a circular motion, before slowly parting her entrance and slipping inside, his lips letting out a moan at the sensation.

Carla gasped low in her throat, trying to stifle a loud reaction, his fingers dipping in deeper and causing electricity to shoot through her. It felt too good. Too exquisite, and Carla was impatient, she needed him. Her hand firmly grasped his hard length again, making Samuel's breath falter as she guided him toward her center.

That was when Samuel completely paused, drawing back to look at her. Carla's breath hitched from the intensity of his eyes. His Adam's apple bobbing in his throat anxiously as his dark browns shone with so many ripples of emotions; love, lust, longing, relief, fear, sadness.

"Carla, I - "

"Shh, I know," she said, pulling him closer. "It's okay."

And then he pushed inside her in one agonizingly anticipated motion, their eyes clinging to each other just as much as their bodies were.

The feel of him after so long was overwhelmingly gratifying as he rested inside her for a second, giving both of them time to adjust to the achingly familiar feeling. Samuel panted harshly, his hips starting a rhythm so gentle, almost painfully so, as though trying to cherish every single tick of the intimate act. But then he perfectly gained momentum, matching both their needs. His mouth was sponging kisses all across her face, till his lips reached hers muffling their moaning as their tongues swirled hotly with each other.

"God, Carla." he grunted loudly. "I thought I'd never - " he stopped, seemingly forgetting what he was was about to say, as he drove into her faster, pinning her to the wall.

Carla had closed her eyes in ecstasy, trying to imprint every touch, every sound he made on her brain. Samuel's pace began to stir the fire already within her as he sank in and out of her faster and deeper. Her fingers clutched his hair, unable to stop herself from pulling on it hard, causing Samuel to moan and give even harder thrusts.

"Holy - fuck, Carla." his movements were growing in urgency, as he intensely and thoroughly fucked her.

"Samuel." she whimpered into his mouth, pleasure taking over every inch of her as she met his thrusts ardently. It was coming to an end. Way too soon. Carla wasn't ready for it to be over, but it was all too much, they both couldn't stop their shuddering bodies as their hips bucked against each other harshly. Carla gasping out his name one last time, her climax striking her fiercely. With a few last vigorous thrusts, Samuel tucked his head into her neck, growling out his own release.

His body sagged against hers, the only thing keeping her from collapsing on the floor. It was a few minutes before Carla's brain picked up on her surroundings again. Samuel's head was still buried in her neck, and his body was shaking against her.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly. Was he regretting it? She didn't want it to be awkward or sad. Carla thought they'd decided to not think or talk and just enjoy each other while they still could. Did he regret it?

"I - yeah. I'm okay." he breathed unsteadily, his breath tickling her skin. "Fucking wonderful, actually. You?"

Carla smiled to herself in relief, they were still on the same page, he didn't regret it. "Same."

"We forgot to use a condom," Carla told him softly, not overly worried, they had done it before, their first time of course, being the first case.

"Shit." he mumbled into her hair. "We should really pay more attention to that."

Carla sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "I know. I am on the pill, though. You're clean, right?" He nodded against her.

"Me too."

Samuel finally craned his neck back, and Carla's heart squeezed in her chest. His eyes were so soft, sated and pretty, Carla almost pouted at the beautiful sight of him, raising her palms to stroke his red, flushed cheeks. 

"You look so cute," she whispered.

Samuel scowled in mock offense. "I just fucked you against this wall and you think I look cute!"

Carla laughed so loudly in response, that Samuel couldn't keep his stern look on, a smile breaking over his face.

"Cute?" he gently let her down, still clinging to her waist, which was good because her knees were barely holding her up.

She laughed harder, shrugging. "Yes. So cute and sleepy." she teased.

"Oh, Carla, I'm not sleepy one bit."

The promise, almost warning tone of his voice halted her laughter as her eyes focused on his intense ones.

Not giving her time to comprehend the meaning of his words, his lips caught hers, his arm dragging her by the waist away from the wall, and holding her to his chest. Carla could feel them moving around the house, her eyes closed, trusting Samuel to lead the way to his bedroom.

It was a blur till she opened her eyes, releasing his mouth to find they were standing in front of Samuel's bed. His lips smirked sinfully at her, before grabbing her by the waist and roughly tossing her on the bed.

Fuck.

Slowly climbing after her, he rested on his knees, his heavy-lidded eyes staring down at her. "We're nowhere near done."

_______________________________________________________

Much later, they were both completely naked on his bed. Carla was sprawled against his chest, her right ear pressed against his heart, listening to its soothing, comforting beat as his fingers massaged her scalp lazily.

Maybe it was because they unleashed the tension and she was way more relaxed, but Carla felt brave enough to say what was on her mind.

"You stopped calling."

Samuel stilled under her for only a second. "You did too."

"Because you stopped answering. It would've been selfish of me to push you further, I - I thought you'd finally let me go."

She hated how her voice broke at the last part.

"I was trying to." he admitted quietly. "But I've accepted that I can't."

"Samuel."

"I also wanted to give you some time, you know."

Carla frowned. "Time for what?"

He sighed. "Polo."

Carla stiffened, lifting her head to look at him. "What?"

His eyes didn't meet hers. "To deal with his death and everything else. I know that at some point you - um, I know what he meant to you once and I knew you needed some time to process."

Only Samuel. Samuel who hated Polo with everything in him, understood that Carla felt differently; that she was sad, the she'd needed time to mourn Polo and he didn't judge her.

"You're so considerate, it's a little annoying."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his tinted cheeks. "It's called common decency."

"Perhaps, but some people don't deserve it. I know how much you hated him, Samuel, and rightfully so. But thank you for understanding."

"Of course. So - how are you dealing with everything?" 

Carla knew he wasn't just asking about Polo, but also everything with her family, the drugs, the withdrawal.

"I've been talking to Nina a lot. Obviously she doesn't know everything, but it's been nice to at least try and sort my shit out." Carla rested her head back on his chest.

"I'm glad you have someone to help you with everything."

"It's a very slow process because it's still so weird for me, honestly. And really fucking difficult to actually talk about stuff and work through them. Baby steps, I guess."

His fingers still combing through her hair, tugged gently, urging her to look up and meet his open and warm gaze. "I'm proud of you."

A wave of pure and crushing affection rushed through her forcefully, and she abruptly captured his lips.

He smiled into the kiss. "What's that for?"

Because I love you, Carla thought to herself but she couldn't say that. Carla had already taken enough, she'd already let herself bask in his presence. She couldn't say that to him and then bolt out of the country.

"Felt like it, do you have a problem with that?" she asked, kissing him again. Samuel hummed against her contentedly, biting her bottom lip.

"Never," he uttered with conviction, making Carla's heart lurch in her chest.

I love you.

The words were lodged in her throat, fighting against logic, begging to be let out. To finally let him know. Carla wanted to freely express this genuine, real and astounding emotion. There would never come a time when Carla wouldn't marvel at how much she felt for him. In such a short time he'd had her. Since the first time all of this had started, it had been a haze of a deep and intense connection. Carla had never wanted someone one so much, never had the surge of sexual attraction quite so powerfully.

But then want turned into need which tuned into something beyond what Carla'd thought she was ever capable of feeling. Something terrifyingly real.

How was it that there was a time when Carla couldn't care less about his existence and now it felt like she couldn't live without him.

But she had to.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Samuel asked, his fingers tracing the furrowed lines of her eyebrows.

You. I love you.

It would be a new low for Carla if she gave in to yet another one of her uncontrollable desires and told him. She would only be serving herself, quenching her thirst to get the feelings out. What was the point? She was leaving. It would only hurt him.

Don't tell him.

"Carla?" he sounded worried.

Don't say it. Don't be selfish. Don't tell him.

Carla had denied it for so long, all she had to do was keep it in a little longer and then they would be out of each other's lives. The words were pointless. There was no need to add salt to their wounds.

"Carla, what's wrong?"

Don't say it.

"I love you, Samuel."

[7team7]

Choosing Fate: Chapter 7

Accidentally on purpose. // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

A/N: I absolutely adore and cherish student-mentor relationships so I really wanted to put Tsunade in here to develop that for Sakura like she is really only surrounded by her stranger family so she needs Something/Someone else there. This also marks ssk turning away from being overly devoted to his clan. More on that in the note at the end, enjoy this chapter and happy birthday to the king!! <333

.

.

Sasuke was running a quick errand for his mother when he saw her.

The blonde hair and amber eyes were unmistakable — Senju Tsunade was back in Konoha. For what reason, he didn’t know, didn’t care, but he hurried home to tell Sakura anyway.

.

“You need a teacher,” Sasuke’s voice sounded behind her.

She jumped, scattering dried leaves across the table by accident. Did he read her mind? She was encountering a road block: she didn’t know enough about the poisonous properties of plants, always being told to stay away from them, but never study them. And she couldn’t just test things out herself or on others. So she was stuck for now.

“I thought you were my teacher,” she teased lightly.

“I still am,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes at first. Their tutoring sessions had evolved into quiet discussions that he found more and more difficult to tear himself away from. He cleared his throat, “I found someone else for you. For this.” He waved his hand to gesture at the herbs strewn all over the tabletop.

She brightened visibly, “That’s perfect! I thought I knew more than I actually did. I’m scared of making an actual fatal error. But I want to continue — at this point I feel like I have to.” She chewed her lip, already thinking of the ways one could easily mess up with which plants you consumed. She could only hope that her knowledge of healing improved alongside the new deadly concoctions she hoped to create.

Sasuke nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t suggest this if she wasn’t the best. You’ve heard of Senju Tsunade, correct?”

“Of course I have, who hasn’t? Is she back in the village? I’ve always wanted to speak with her. Do you know her well enough to ask her this favor?” Tsunade was a busy, intimidating woman. She wouldn’t say yes to just anyone.

“Not really. And the Senjus and Uchihas don’t have the best history together. We’ll consider this a new start.” If his plan failed, he didn’t know what the hell he would do next.  

She tilted her head in question, “Do you really think she’ll agree to this then? I’m an Uchiha.”

Sasuke’s face softened for a moment when he said quietly, “But you’re different. I’m sure she’ll say yes to you. Everyone likes you.”

To cover up her sudden bashfulness, she started to babble and clean up her workspace. “Oh, um, sure. Let’s hope. So, can we go to her today? Time is of the essence!” It took some effort, but Sasuke’s visage shifted back to neutral. He should probably help her, but watching her gather herself was strangely endearing.

“Hn. We can go as soon as you’re ready.”

Apparently going alone was still not an option, but she didn’t mind the company.

.

Sakura’s stomach was knotted with nerves. Who was she to demand such a thing from such a woman? But this was the only way. She would not back down.

Sasuke kept his pace even, but noticed the way Sakura kept her hands clasped tightly behind her back. It was surely exciting to think of being in the presence of such a legendary master, but her status only made the confrontation more intimidating.

He struggled to find words to comfort her and it was only when they reached Tsunade’s doorstep did he manage a clipped, “If she says no we’ll just have to find someone else.”

Sakura nodded shakily, even though she knew there would be no one else who could compare. He stood back while she knocked. One moment, then two passed until the door was wrenched open from the inside.

Tall and imposing, the famous woman’s reputation could not be overstated. “And who are you?” Sasuke nodded at his wife when she glanced his way.

“My name is Uchiha Sakura and I want to become your student,” she said quickly but with clear resolve. She ended with a deep bow.

“Oh get up,” Tsunade said lazily. Sakura looked stunned as her rose hair swished in front of her vision on the way up.

“Yes ma’am.”

She stuck a finger under Sakura’s chin, appraising her, “Uchiha huh? You certainly don’t look like one.” If anything, the girl could claim distant Senju relations.

“Yes ma’am. I used to be Haruno Sakura, but Sasuke and I married recently.”

Only then did Tsunade’s attention shift to Sasuke standing stoically like a sentry behind Sakura.

“Uchiha Sasuke, you’re one of Fugaku’s brats aren’t you? It’s been a long time.”

His mouth twisted, “My father..does not know about this yet,” he offered. It was as good of an olive branch as he could give at the moment.

Tsunade crossed her arms over her chest, “Why?”

Sakura looked taken aback. “Why? Um, it was an arranged marriage so-”

“No, no. Why should I be your teacher?”

The younger woman straightened her spine, “Because I already have minimal healing knowledge from working on my parents’ land and I’d like to learn more from the most knowledgeable woman in all of the nations. I’d also like to learn about poisons, something I can only successfully do under your watch. I believe it’s important for women to be able to protect themselves, no matter the method. This is mine.”

“Uh huh,” the blonde nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes flickered between Sasuke and Sakura. Some nerve he had coming here, but the girl seemed genuine. This couldn’t have been good for that famous Uchiha pride.

With a strange mix of pity and admiration for Uchiha Sakura, Tsunade clicked her tongue and said, “Okay. Meet here tomorrow morning.” Then she slammed the door shut.

Sakura blinked; even Sasuke was surprised. But she soon regained her composure and a grin split her face open, “Alright then. I’ll be here tomorrow.” She turned back towards the road and beckoned to Sasuke. “Let’s go.” He followed.

.

When they got home, Sakura called over her shoulder that she’d go and tidy up her herb collection to bring with her tomorrow.

She waltzed into their bedroom humming a sweet and simple tune. He watched her back all the way until she disappeared from view. He decided to make his way into the kitchen to brew some afternoon tea for the two of them.

His father sat at the table with his arms crossed tightly. He didn’t seem angry — yet. But suspicion hung in the air. “Where were you two today?”

“Getting help for Sakura.”

“Is there something wrong with her?”

Sasuke hated playing games so he sighed and told him the whole story: “We went to see Senju Tsunade. She’s taking Sakura as an apprentice to teach her about medicine and poison. It’ll be good for her. She’s eager to learn.”

“What a shame that there isn’t a more suitable teacher for her, someone who isn’t a Senju.”

“There’s no one better, regardless of clan considerations. What’s done is done.”

“Don’t you betray us like this, son,” Fugaku warned.

Sasuke hissed, “I think I know what’s best for me and my wife.” He loves his family but he had been growing frustrated with their ideals and hunger for power. He wasn’t sure when he separated himself and Sakura from everyone else.

“Watch your tone.”

Sasuke didn’t respond and left the kitchen without the tea he had originally come for.

He nearly ran into Sakura when he walked into their bedroom. His hand shot out to grasp her shoulder and steady her. Their chests were nearly touching; could she feel his heart about the leap out of his chest?

“Sasuke,” she breathed.

“I wanted tea.”

“I heard everything.”

He let go to run a hand through his hair. She stepped back slightly and he could breathe again. “Don’t listen to him.”

“You already told me there’s bad blood between the clans, I suppose it’s to be expected.”

“But that doesn’t excuse the way he’s always trying to control me,” he snarled lowly. Sakura was now an extension of himself. Anything Fugaku did to one would affect the other.

Hesitantly, she placed what she hoped was a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to do this no matter what he says. I can talk to him too, if that would help.”

He didn’t move away from her hand so she kept it there. “As you should. But it’s not your fight.”

Her hand started slowly moving up and down his arm; his muscles were so firm beneath her fingertips! “That doesn’t mean I can’t help you. I am your wife, after all.” Her voice had become incredibly soft and the surrounding air became thick.

He gave her a peculiar look that she couldn’t quite read. “My wife. That’s right.” He glanced down at her hand and she withdrew like she was burned, but he was faster. He clasped his fingers around her wrist and glanced between her dainty fingers and parted mouth. He made his decision.

Almost like an experiment, he pulled her closer and tilted his head. “My wife,” he repeated softly. It felt good in his mouth, gentle on his tongue. He leaned in and kissed her on her plush lips. His wife, objectively beautiful and smart and lovely, was standing here before him and he had never done this. What a fool he was.

He pressed into her more firmly, closing his eyes for a fleeting moment. But for Sakura, it felt like an eternity. His advances weren’t unwanted, but she froze in shock. She finally managed to place both hands back on his broad shoulders and deepen the kiss.

It was only for a moment, though, because Sasuke seemed to remember what he was doing and he jumped backwards.

“I didn’t — it was an accident,” he said quickly. As if the intention wasn’t radiating off his body in waves. Now she learned something else about her husband: he was a terrible liar.

Really, Sasuke never did anything unless he wanted to; this was growing truer by the day as he finally started to figure out what exactly he wanted from life. Sakura’s curiosity had rubbed off on him.

Her fingers lingered by her tingling mouth, “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” She was getting better at understanding him and his ways of speaking: he meant to say, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

“So it’s settled,” he said stiltedly, trying to change the subject back to the safe topic of finding her a teacher.

She nodded, her skin starting to glow gently, happily. Feeling emboldened by their “accidental” kiss, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.”

He nodded tersely; if he was blushing before, he was on fire now. He turned on his heel and left the room, muttering something about plans and chores and tea.

She watched him go, shaking her head with amusement and affection. Why was her husband so cute like this?

.

.

A/N: Sneaky accidental but also not accidental kiss hehe I know people are waiting for some spice but this is not the chapter for it obviously HAHA thanks for your patience (and unless I don’t remember my own story that’s the first time she calls him ssk-kun) Anyway, I think another point of tension for Sasuke will be grappling with his individual desires vs community. We know that he’s big on family but the purity of the clan is being questioned and it’s interesting to see him realize that Sakura is family and he cares for her even if she’s just one person >_< ssk why are you so cute?? But yeah, by the end of the story his values and beliefs will have come into question whereas sakura will feel more confident in what she thinks and believes in. Ultimately they grow together and we mf love to see it!!

[synvamp]

HAPPY PLACE 4

So apparently now I’ve found my happy place (Vol 7 Ep 5), I’m never going to leave.

Slow burn, lots of flirting and fluff - adorable Clover, birb Qrow. HEAL ME

(Part One HERE)

Title: Healing

Fair Game – Part Four / 5? More?

Rating: M

---xxx---

  Qrow lay in bed in the dark. It was nearly like sleeping.

  He thought about the last few days. His missions with Clover. The looks Clover gave him, the reassuring hand that just found his shoulder, lifted his chin, clasped his waist…

  He could tell Clover had been trying to take it slow… give him a little time after the kiss.

  Hope he didn’t take that ‘intense’ comment too seriously. Why do I have to have such a smart mouth!? Qrow grinned in the dark. Ok, not going to regret being a smart ass. There has to be a line, right?

  His mouth kept him safe. It kept people at a distance. No one really knew when he was serious so he could say what he was really thinking and they’d shrug it off. It was just another weapon in his personal arsenal – another way to keep people he cared about as far away as possible.

  Two weeks.

  There was no way Clover would survive. In the two days since that amazing kiss he’d been nearly buried in rubble twice, thrown off a building, caught in a grim stampede and nearly hit by lightning. Actual lightning.

  Qrow turned over and buried his face in his pillow again. All he could think about was the feeling of Clover’s lips. The firm kiss still lingered, he could almost feel those calloused fingers stroke down his face and lift his chin…

  Still sexually frustrated.

  Would sleeping with him make it worse? If he follows me around like a love sick puppy (Qrow smiled a little too hard in the dark) then won’t he be doomed anyway? Would giving the both of them a tiny hint of relief really be such a bad thing?

  I could certainly use some damn sleep, he thought, pressing his hard-on into the sheets and sighing.

  In a fit of frustration he leapt off the bed, throwing the covers everywhere. That’s it. I’m getting up. This is bullshit.

  He looked over at the clock. It was four-thirty. Must have drifted off for a little at least…

  Only four hours until the briefing. Only four hours until I see him again.

  It felt like a long time.

  Qrow flicked a light switch and scowled into the bright light. He threw on some shoes and left his room. He wore sweats and a t-shirt to bed so he didn’t even have to get dressed. Just walk. Find a rhythm in your steps. Walk and keep walking.

  It was a good way to keep the demons at bay. He just let the rhythm of his body take him. He went around the corridors, sometimes hearing a faint snoring from someone’s quarters. It was weirdly comforting after everything that had happened, the sound of other people, relaxed… fast asleep.

  He found himself in the mess hall before long, empty metal tables gleaming in the moonlight which streamed through the window.

  He turned his heels to go and a voice floated out of the darkness, “Can’t sleep?”

  Clover.

  Qrow hesitated on the threshold. He considered just walking away. Probably better to get as far away from the guy as possible before he spontaneously combusts…

  But he didn’t. He just stood there. Clover walked out of a shadow beside the window, he approached slowly and sat on a table a few metres away.

  Still giving me space. Why does he have to be so damn considerate?

  “Didn’t think you were the skulking in the shadows type,” Qrow drawled, trying to make light of the situation. His chest felt like it was going to implode as the light hit Clover’s face just so…

  “I have a dark streak,” Clover smiled.

  “Oh yeah?” Qrow felt a smile tugging at his lips. Clover. Dark. What a heap.

  “Yeah. I like horror movies and I dress up every year for Halloween,” he nodded like this was absolutely conclusive.

  Qrow shook his head, “I can’t even tell if you’re serious.”

  Clover opened his mouth in mock-offense, “I’m always serious! I’m super, super serious!”

  Qrow just laughed. How can this guy make me feel so relaxed!? It’s five am!

  But as soon as his heart began to lift he felt it all come crashing down. Clover’s face was so open, so welcoming, so GODDAMNED HAPPY.

  I can’t do this to him. I can’t inflict this… me… on him. On his life.

  “Well, enjoy the darkness then I guess…” he said, as he turned away.

  He could hear Clover stand up behind him, “Qrow… wait…”

  He hesitated, one foot over the threshold.

  This is selfish. This is selfish. Don’t punish him for being so good.

He felt the hand on his shoulder.

  Don’t do it to him, Qrow. You’re enough of an asshole already.

  “Watch it,” he said, “I’m pretty sure if you touch me for long enough the whole of Atlas will fall out of the sky.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet,” Clover’s voice was soft behind him.

  “Yeah right,” Qrow turned, guilt and self-loathing making him surly, “you’ve survived two days of being near me. Lucky, lucky you. Hopefully next time there’s a storm you don’t stand a foot to the left, hey? Hopefully next time there’s some grim on the loose, you don’t lose your footing at the top of a high building, hey!? And we can only damn PRAY that ne..”

  “Stop it!” Clover’s eyes burned with an intensity Qrow hadn’t seen before.

  They both were startled into silence.

  Finally, Clover let his hand drop from Qrow’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  Qrow looked at him and felt a flicker in his chest. Something more than sexual frustration, more than lust.

  Oh no… I can’t do this.

  Qrow pushed the feeling deep into his stomach. That’s it. I’m done.

  He turned and Clover’s hand grabbed his elbow. Qrow looked down, a full on war raging in his chest. Don’t you want to live you cocky idiot!?

  “You don’t get it! What do I have to do to get rid of you!?” his voice was raised but in his heart, he just felt empty.

  Clover smiled down at him, his eyes bright and his cheeks kissed with the first hint of a blush. He didn’t let go.

  “If you stop shouting, that might help.”

  What do I do…!? Do I tear my arm away? Kiss him? Fall on his perfect muscled chest and just fucking cry!?

  From somewhere inside his smart mouth came to his rescue, “You like me shouting?” it said.

  Clover looked at him with those perfect turquoise eyes, “Yes. I really like you shouting.”

  Qrow smiled in spite of himself, “You’re a weird guy.”

  Clover finally let go of his elbow but his eyes still searched Qrow’s face with worrying intensity, “It’s been said.” He gave a wry smile in return.

  Qrow hesitated, it would be so easy to just lean forwards… just put his head on Clover’s chest and let him kiss all the pain away. “Persistent fucker, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Yeah…” Clover shook his head, looking suddenly embarrassed, “I know I come on a bit strong… I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’m here for you in… all the ways but I don’t actually want to hound you to the ends of the earth… so… if you don’t want to take it any further… you can just let me know. I’m a professional. I won’t make it a big deal.”

  Clover looked at the ground like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Yes, here is my heart, please, step on it.

  “Further?” Qrow squeaked, regretting it instantly.

  “Yes,” Clover told the floor.

  “Like…?” Qrow said. No, stop this! I’m leaving, remember!?

  Clover looked up, his eyes twinkling, “Like when a man and a man like each other very mu..”

  Qrow spluttered, trying to cough and laugh at the same time, “Ok. Yes. Thanks. I am a little bit old for the birds and the bees if you don’t mind.”

They looked at each other for a minute, Qrow memorising this moment. Memorising his face. It never did to let these moments pass when joy was fleeting and always, always gone too soon.

  Finally, he spoke, “And what’s with all the sass recently? I thought that was my schtick.”

  Clover grinned, sheepish, “I thought you might like it. You seem to get sick of the tin soldier trope.”

  “I… do like it,” Qrow breathed, leaning in almost imperceptibly. He could feel the warmth of Clover’s chest. Feel where his hand had rested on his shoulder… all the delicious thoughts that had swirled around in his mind for hours just came pouring out… he looked into Clover’s eyes.

  Now or never, asshole.

  “What about you?” Qrow asked, his voice breathy, barely a whisper.

  “What about me?” Clover asked, his eyes fixed on Qrow’s lips.

  “Are you the dinner and a movie type?” Qrow asked. He stopped breathing.

  “You paying?” Clover sassed.

  “Just stop ok. It’s weirding me out.”

  Clover laughed, “I don’t know, I’m starting to like it.”

  “Ok, I’ll pay! You really know how to make a guy feel special, you know that?” Qrow scowled, faking mad.

  Clover looked at his dark, brooding face with a look that bordered on catatonic.

  “You are so hopeless,” Qrow laughed.

  “Only with you,” Clover breathed.

  Fuck it.

  Qrow lifted his hands around Clover’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. He felt those rough hands close around his waist and pull them together. After that there was just lips, then strong arms picking him up and carrying him down the corridor.

  “Put me down!”

  “No,” Clover said as he marched back to his quarters with his prize.

  Oh well, I tried, Qrow thought as he melted into the warm chest and tried not to think about what he was going to do to the arrogant asshole as soon as the door had closed.

  ---xxx---

  “So…” Yang asked, keeping it casual, “Where are you going?”

  “Dinner. It’s dinner time. I’m going to dinner,” Qrow said, not meeting her eyes.

  “With… Clover?”

  Qrow turned sharply, glowering into her cool violet gaze, “Yes. He bet me that my misfortune couldn’t ruin everything if he was around.”

  “And the best way to test that is dinner?”

  “Yesssss.”

  “And that’s why you spent 2 hours getting ready…”

  “Haven’t you got someone else to annoy?” Qrow asked, hoping his hair was still ok.

  “Not really…” she grinned. “OK WELL I have to go,” Qrow said, scuttling out of that hell hole as fast as he could move.

---xxx---

  Clover sat at the table, gazing out into the cold winter sky. Qrow was late but only a little. And for the first time, Clover wasn’t worried. Last night was… OH GODS IT WAS AMAZING HOW DO YOU EVEN MOVE YOUR BODY LIKE THAT UGH…

  Yeah ok. It was good, he laughed at himself nervously and covered his hard-on with a serviette. What a man.

  The window was open just a crack to balance the heat from the blazing fire. As Clover gazed out across the swirling snowflakes, thinking about ass, a little black bird hopped through the window and onto the table.

  “Awww look at you,” Clover said softly, “Hey there little guy…” he laughed as he realised what type of bird it was. “Oh no! I think we’ve got our wires crossed; I’ve just fallen in love with a totally different crow! And if he sees us like this, who knows what might happen,” he smiled and broke a bread roll in half, putting half on the table in front of the little bird, “but here… aww I can’t be mad at you. Maybe we can have a little thing on the side… my Qrow can be a bit snarky and you are just SO CUTE!”

  The little bird hopped onto the other seat and looked at him, head slightly tilted and little red eyes glittering.

  In an instant Clover was looking into a completely different pair of glittering red eyes as the blush to end all blushes surged onto his face.

  “I’m not cute,” Qrow said pointedly, “but thanks for the roll.”

  Clover blinked. The blush deepened, “SO CUTE,” he squeaked.

  “Oh my god, stop it now,” Qrow grinned.

  After a little time, Clover regained the power of speech, “Well, I see that my humiliation is finally complete.”

  “It has been for quite a while, I’m afraid.”

  “Why must I fall for gorgeous, mouthy bad boys!? I’m a smooth guy!”

  “I don’t know,” Qrow shrugged, just enjoying the moment.

  “Well…. Uh…” Clover buried his head in the menu.

  Qrow mulled over what he’d just heard. I mean, it wasn’t a heart to heart… Clover was just dribbling crap at what he thought was a cute bird. It didn’t mean anything.

  …I’ve just fallen in love with a totally different crow…

  His heart surged in his chest as he looked across the table at this, sexy confident guy… his ears were still bright pink.

  He’s fucking adorable.

  This is not ok.

  As he stared, Clover’s eyes flicked up. He grinned like a total idiot then looked away.

  UGH, Qrow’s whole body groaned.

  DOOMED.

  ---xxx---

Part Five

[bleachpanda]

Salt over Harem Manga ft. Gotoubun, Bokuben & Nisekoi

Well, well, who would have thought that the thing to finally inspire me to want to rant/talk again about stuff that interest me would be harem manga LOL. I guess waifu wars can get pretty serious. Lol, jokes aside, this post can probably be seen as a form of bitterness for the usual “my favourite girl didn’t win” rants, but honestly, my favourite girl won in Gotoubun and I’m still dissatisfied! Yes, this post will probably be full of salt, so I guess be prepared? XD Oh, and this is something obvious but ending spoilers ahead, so don’t read if you don’t want to know who the “winners” are!

Gotoubun and Bokuben are probably the most popular recent harem manga and honestly, I enjoyed Bokuben more because I felt the girls were so much more fun and friendly, as well as having better character development with their respective story arcs, but I have to say, the both of them fell off the cliff near the end imo. For Gotoubun, what was enjoyable was the mystery of who Futarou would end up marrying and how intense the wars between the sisters got when they fought for the guy they liked. But, I think after Negi completely ruined Ichika’s character and any chance of her ever being with Futarou, I got a bit annoyed lol. I think what I enjoy the most about harem manga is how each girl presents a different personality, a different look, a different feel and just a type that each reader can fall in love with and you kinda cheer for the one you like the most even if they may not necessarily be the “best girl” for the guy, and I think what Negi did to Ichika nicely presented how jealousy can affect relationships, but it also destroyed what I liked about harem manga and the “unity” between the sisters. I’ll admit that Ichika was my favourite girl until that point and I was so disappointed in her character afterwards. Oh, btw, my order of favourites are (most to least) Yotsuba, Miku, Nino and then Ichika and Itsuki tie lol. 

Anyway, although the girls never clicked as much with me as it did with other readers due to me feeling like rather than romance, the girls really needed to focus on themselves more and I think Futarou provided that, so I guess I was happy lol. But, I always felt that even though Ichika is called out for being the most selfish, I thought Nino and Miku also really selfishly pushed their feelings on Futarou all the time rather than thinking about his feelings. Their thoughts and feelings were always more hindered by themselves rather than Futarou and I feel like Futarou was more of a “goal” to them than an actual romantic interest. Like, I know they cared, but I think overall, in the end Futarou really just represented them being able to overcome their respective problems and insecurities more than romance. 

So yeah, I always cheered for Yotsuba even though I honestly thought he wouldn’t choose her because I feel like even though they had their moments, they still overall lacked communication. So yeah, colour me surprised when he really did pick Yotsuba lol! I was shocked but happy for her UNTIL the confession chapter ended, because after that towards the end, the chapters were quite the drag. Not only did the characterisation for the sisters feel like it dipped back into the hole, I felt their “anger” towards Yotsuba was really...awkwardly shown, and I was so annoyed that all Yotsuba could say to them was something along the lines of “I won’t go out with him until you guys approve”, which is understandable, but the way she did it was just repulsive. Mainly because she just shoved it in the other sisters’ faces that yes she won, but she wants to be “considerate” to them by getting their approval first and it just annoyed me. Getting approval doesn’t mean just begging them to approve of your relationship, but proving to them that you guys really love each other and that you know it’s going to hurt them but you really love this guy or whatever. Anyway, the way that was handled was disappointing and I felt the ending was really rushed after the confession, because even though I was a fan of Yotsuba, I never really felt how much they clicked as a couple and how much Futarou loved her. Sure, he appreciated her for always being the one that kept him going but not seeing much of their romance develop after as a couple really made the ending bland imo. Regardless, I’m more disappointed in Bokuben.

I had really high hopes for Bokuben and I honestly thought it would be more of a steady progress of the cliche with every girl getting some sort of mini arc before their respective confession or his choice BUT it throws that all in the bin and instead chooses to just have Nariyuki think about who he really loves after Uruka properly confesses to him. In which at this point, okay, fine, I’ll accept it, not all romances get to end with each girl telling the guy their feelings, a lot of them get rejected by understanding who he’s going to choose. But I think the most insulting thing that Bokuben did that I frankly disliked the most was the flashback story of Uruka being there for Nariyuki back when his father died and he was struggling with his family situation, but Uruka was there for him as the sunshine girl she was and that really helped him get through his middle school years. Having that flashback just completely negated all the relationships he built with Fumino and the rest of them, because in the end, what was the core to winning his heart was already established before the manga even started, so in the end, the other girls never had a chance to begin with. The whole harem was just Nariyuki becoming friends with the other girls and them helping him realise in the end that he liked Uruka and that honestly pissed me off. I didn’t like Gotoubun’s ending but I liked that Negi kept to the story that what was presented in the story and the respective girls’ arcs was where Futarou made the choice to choose Yotsuba. He chose her because she was there for him and not fighting or causing problems the whole time, it was because she was supporting him ever since the beginning, and even though I had problems with how it was portrayed, it kept within what was shown. However, with how Nariyuki ended up choosing Uruka, it really showed how useless everything happened was in terms of the romance, I’m glad Nariyuki still helped them all improve in their studies and supported and improved their outlooks on life, but the romance that was supposed to be at the core of the story really kills it.

Honestly, although my favourite was Sensei, I didn’t mind who Nariyuki would end up with because I actually really liked all the girls, and I really liked how they all supported him in different ways just as he always supported their dreams. And it’s because of that, that I’m all the more disappointed in how this “choice” was handled. It was especially dissatisfying to see all the girls heartbroken in such an anticlimactic way tbh. Like, it’s nice that it’s showing how unrequited loves can end just like that, but it is so dissatisfying for a harem manga to do that. As a reader, you become invested in each girl and have your favourite, so getting a clear ending for each of them even if it’s a rejection, or even if it’s their own mini arc of them coming to terms to their feelings would be so much more understandable and satisfying. To be fair, Bokuben hasn’t completely ended yet so maybe Tsutsui will do that after, but I honestly doubt it, because the moment Tsutsui decided that the way for Sensei to come to terms for her feelings was to have one panel of her wishing that she could be a student alongside them, then maybe she could have expressed her feelings annoyed me. I just found it terribly dissatisfying for the rest of the girls even though I do love how cute Uruka is as well, I just found it extremely unfair to the others. Life is unfair but my harem manga shouldn’t be! Like seriously LOL.

As someone who absolutely hates Chitoge (well, maybe just dislike lol), I have to say Nisekoi actually presented the most well rounded ending of the three. They did my girl Marika dirty by making her be the one pushing Chitoge to face her fears and confess to Raku but I still accepted it, because Marika loved Raku so much, she would have done that. Anyway, what I really loved about the Nisekoi ending was that Komi really put in the effort into giving some sort of conclusion to each girl that was part of the harem. I remember that even though I was sad, I felt satisfied because truthfully, it was quite well established how the fight for Raku was really only between Onodera and Chitoge, and as the manga was rolling near the end, it was quite obviously shown that Raku would end up with Chitoge because of how well they connected and how well they got along together. And although I know a lot of people were annoyed that the whole promise girl wasn’t important anymore when it was throughout the whole manga, and that Raku didn’t choose Onodera even though she was the girl, but I actually liked that. I liked that even though it took him a while to realise, I liked it that he realised that looking for the promised girl wasn’t important anymore, and that the most important thing was you yourself choosing the person you like in the present rather than relying on fleeting feelings of the past. I mean, if it was so hard for everyone to remember and do something about it then it obviously shouldn’t matter imo lol. Anyway, yeah, I just wanted to say that Marika is best girl LOL. But yeah, seriously, I really liked how Nisekoi built up to the conclusion with Raku and Chitoge finally being honest to each other, because even though I was annoyed that it was cliche and obvious, and that the whole battle for Raku always favoured Chitoge rather  than any other girl, I understood through the story how much they both liked each other. And I wanted something like that for Gotoubun and Bokuben. Oh well, I guess lol. Salty rant over loll.

[scarletfish]

See You Better

Summary: Buddy glances at Peter briefly. “He’s very dramatic, don’t you think? A fever and a cough and he’s got us all gathered around like it’s his deathbed.” 

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: one minor reference to past abusive relationship, and slight PTSD (looking at you, Miasma)  AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766886

A/N: Thanks @pigeon-pigeoff from tumblr for the sickfic prompt. It’s taken like, ten years, I’m the actual worst, but also I thought I had covid, got tested, and ended up having strep. So. It’s been a Week. This is like, 30% sickfic, 90% Nureyev Being Dramatic

“You got this Mistah Ransom!” Rita shoots the taller man two exaggerated thumbs up.

Her stage whisper is about as quiet as a Tunguskan siren.

It’s the middle of the goddamn night, and Peter Nureyev is standing outside his… coworker’s bedroom door. When he glances at the tray of food he’s balancing, there’s orange snack dust on his silk pajamas.

His nice silk pajamas. How in Jupiter’s moons did he end up here?

***

The short answer is that Juno is a child.

The slightly extended answer is that Juno is a child who refuses to take care of himself, and somehow that translated to the detective’s former secretary tapping quietly on Nureyev’s door at some ungodly morning hour.

He considered, for one glorious moment, slipping his eye mask back down and pretending to be asleep. Whatever it was could most likely wait until morning, and he needed a full face of makeup coupled with some strong tea to face--

File it away. Tying the sash of his robe as he walked, he crossed the small room and slid his cabin door open with one eyebrow raised.  

“Rita, is there something I could assist you--” He began with a slightly concerned tone (Rita had yet to approach him one-on-one, and he assumed that she held similar suspicions to the rest of the crew) but she was already off at a fast-paced whisper (for Rita, a regular volume a bit hoarser than her normal speaking voice).

“Mistah Ransom! I couldn’t wake anyone else up ya see, ‘cause Miss Vespa’s with Miss Buddy, and Miss Buddy said I ain’t allowed to wake her up before five anymore unless something’s on fire--”

“A wise injunction,” Peter muttered.

“--and I thought a settin’ something a little on fire, just a tiny bit, ‘cause it’s the boss, and this’s an emergency, but then I said, boundaries are important Rita--”

Peter went to sweep a hand dramatically down his face, then remembered his eyeliner, then remembered it’s the middle of the night and he’s not actually wearing eyeliner, and ended up fluttering his hand exasperatedly around his head.

“Perhaps you could tell me exactly why you’re here so we can both get back to our beauty sleep?”

 “Right! Well you know Mistah Steel’s been feelin’ sick,” she began, and Peter’s eyebrows drew together imperceptibly. As Rita began describing the food she’s been bringing him, returned uneaten, Peter nodded along and cast his mind over the past forty-eight hours.

Juno can’t be that ill, he would have noticed... Wouldn’t he?

Suddenly it’s difficult to tell how much Peter has written off when it comes to the new, softer version of the man he once knew. Juno had always been intelligent without even trying, confident, quick on his feet. Beautiful. Distracting. So when Peter woke up alone That Morning, he had to put Juno Steel in a box. A tiny, inconsequential box, where Juno was nothing special, and Peter could get out of bed in the morning.

It became increasingly difficult to keep Juno inside of the box when the real thing was living only two doors down, but Peter realized his desperate attempts to minimize the detective had made him ridiculously impartial.

When Peter could no longer pretend Juno was simply a bumbling fool, he chalked up the coffee spills, the small stumbles, and the misjudged distances to his missing eye.

The fatigue, the heavy clothing even in the sweltering climate of their last mission, the heat of Juno’s skin when he was playing drunk in front of their mark yesterday, and the way he leaned a bit heavier on the thief than he usually would-- it hadn’t occurred to Nureyev that none of these things could be attributed to loss of depth perception.

Peter frowned.

“--and you ain’t never sleepin’ much anyways, and the boss listens to you more than anyone else. Except me of course! And Captain Buddy. And when Vespa’s got her knife out she’s real intimidatin’--”

Listens to… Peter tucked the thought away quickly. For consideration in the very, very distant future. “I understand your concern, Rita. If Juno is refusing to take care of himself however, there’s not much we can--”

“Oh please, Mistah Ransom!” Rita cut in desperately, her eyes shining with… were those tears? “I’ve been real patient, but he told me he was feelin’ real strange just an hour ago and asked if I could get him some water and now he’s not answerin’ his door, and I could get it open myself, but what if it’s aliens, like in that one program, Aliens on a Spaceship--”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose.

The detective was likely sleeping off a bad cold and thinking little of the chaos he wreaked. He wasn’t worried... but Rita didn’t deserve this stress, and she probably wouldn’t be able to rest properly without an invesitagion...

“All right! I’m uncertain what you imagine I’ll be able to accomplish that you cannot, but if it will reassure you, I will… what exactly is it that you propose?”

Sleep was but a fleeting dream on the Carte Blanche, it seemed.

Rita broke into a face-splitting grin and latched one hand onto his wrist. The tears, he noticed, had miraculously gone.

***

Now, Nureyev is shifting awkwardly outside Juno’s door, balancing a tray of food in one hand and his pride in the other. He hears some shuffling from inside the small room and taps lightly on the aluminum panel.

Despite what he attempted to tell Rita, the thief is certain Juno will answer the door for him, no matter the hour.

“Juno, it’s me. Are you awake?”

...Which is why he’s surprised to hear silence in response to his greeting. He almost knocks again, but his pride won’t let him.

A child.  

“Juno, I think we’d all like to get some rest, and Rita is incredibly concerned about your well-being. If you could at least--” he’s cut off by a loud thump that almost startles him enough to flinch.

Rita jumps about a foot in the air. “Boss?!”

That’s it. Peter simultaneously sets the tray down hard and pulls a thin blade from the pocket of his robe to prize the door open.

At first glance the room is empty, but Peter’s already inside, skimming his eyes across the muddle of dirty clothes and dishes. Where, where, where…

There. The bathroom door is open, and Juno is puddled on the floor, still. (Again.) Peter’s chest clenches and he’s momentarily back in Miasma’s chambers, faced with a series of impossible decisions. No, no, no .

He can’t breath, Rita is saying something and pushing past him but there’s a ringing in his ears, and he’s frozen, useless, selfish, how did he miss this--

Someone bumps into him and Peter swings around to see… Jet?

Peter’s idol has gently shouldered him out of the way and is making his way towards Juno. “I’ll get him to the medbay so Vespa can check him over.”

The medbay? Peter’s brain is scrambling to catch up, to categorize the way Rita is calmly kneeling by Juno’s prostrate form, chattering quietly, and Jet is stooping to scoop Juno’s body up like a child, when Juno… groans?

Peter’s frozen as scenes from the past play out over reality. Juno bleeding, Juno screaming.

“M’ okay, just cold,” he complains, pushing weakly at Jet’s arms.

“That is because you have a fever and did not allow Vespa to treat you when you should have.”

“Boss?”

“I’m fine, Rita, I just tripped,” he fights to keep his eye open and fails, muttering, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

The words building behind Peter’s teeth burst out. “Fever? What are you--” he tries again, “How did you?” Fails again.

Jet shoots a curious look at Peter’s wild hair, his mismatched slippers, the expression lingering on his face before Peter quickly clears it. The large man cocks his head.

“The ship has thin walls, and neither of you have been particularly quiet. I alerted Vespa that we would most likely need her medical skills, and then arrived to offer my assistance.”

Rita tugs on Peter’s robe. “Mistah Ransom? Thanks for your help tonight, you can get your rest now. Ol’ Rita’s got it under control!” With that, she plods after Jet’s receding figure, leaving Peter in the doorway, still holding his knife and feeling useless. He flicks it closed.

A fever.

For a second, he had thought… well.

The adrenaline hits afterwards, like it always does, and Peter picks up the discarded food tray with shaking hands. He has every intention of taking it to the kitchen and then slipping back to his room (Juno doesn’t need him), but his feet start carrying him in the opposite direction, towards the medbay, instead.

After all, Rita subsists off of salmon snacks, they might need some real food. And Jet is kind, but lacking bedside manner. Besides, Juno and Vespa don’t get along very well, and what if Juno says something in his fever-addled state that sets her off?

Best to check in, if only briefly. Thoroughness is important in his line of work.

Upon nearing the medbay however, he’s faced with a choice.

“In or out?” Buddy is leaning in the doorway, watching a growling Vespa try to place a hydration patch on Juno’s arm.

“Lie still!”

“I don’t remember asking for your help!” Juno’s barbed retorts are less sharp than usual, his eye clenched against the light, but Peter relaxes a bit. Vespa does not.

“If you don’t pipe down, you’re going to need more help than I can give you!”

Buddy glances at Peter briefly. “Not being able to admit weakness can become a weakness itself.” The captain sounds disapproving, but a slight smile touches her lips. “He’s very dramatic, don’t you think? A fever and a cough and he’s got us all gathered around like it’s his deathbed.”

“In,” Peter decides, “I’m going in.”

“Tell Vespa I’ll meet her back in bed when she’s finished. Good night, darling.” In a sweep of colorful satin, she’s gone.

He places the tray of food on a small end table. Jet is nowhere to be seen, but Rita is watching streams on her comm from a chair pushed against the foot of Juno’s bed. Peter drags a chair beside her and sits.

Despite her earlier dismissal, Rita doesn’t look surprised to see him. Without looking away from her screen, she holds her bag of salmon snacks towards Peter. He takes one. It isn’t terrible.

Vespa has finished wrestling with Juno and is thrusting her equipment back into the cabinets with a bit more force than necessary.

Over her shoulder, she intones, “Looks like he might live,” and jerks her thumb towards a box on the wall, “unfortunately. Call me if his fever gets over forty again. The box will beep. Might be loopy between doses, suppressant is heavy, it’ll only release every six hours.”

And then there were three.

Juno is restless, somewhere between waking and sleep for the next couple hours. When he starts speaking under his breath, Peter leans closer to listen, and Juno rolls to face him. He cracks his eye open and Peter’s heart jumps...

“You... shouldn’t be here.”

And drops. Of course Juno doesn’t want him here. He made his apology, but the Juno Steel who fell for a lonely thief with too many names has grown up. Changed.

“Rita?”

“Yeah, boss?”

Peter turns to go, until, “Rita… when I fell. When I… in my room, I thought I saw Ransom.”

And he couldn’t move if he tried. Rita reaches for Juno’s hand. “Yeah Boss, he’s right there!”

“No, he can’t be, I fucked up… I fucked things up so badly Rita.”

“Nope, he’s definitely right over there Boss.” Peter turns to see a distressed look cross Juno’s face.

“Rita, he’s gotta get out of here! Make him leave, you both have gotta get out…” he trails off, his eyebrows pulling together. He’s flipping through time so quickly, Peter isn’t sure where each scene ends and the next begins.

“Outta where? I think the meds have got you all turned in circles, Mistah Steel.”

He sounds more uncertain now, growing fainter. “I can take it, I can keep going if I know he’s safe, if you’re safe--”

“But we are safe, Boss.”

“I don’t… I can’t remember. But Rita,” his voice grows urgent again, “please, you can’t let him see me like this! I wanted,” he’s quiet for a long time. So long, Peter thinks he might have fallen asleep.

But as he softly approaches the bedside, Juno finds his words.

“I wanted him to see me better.”

Peter reaches Rita’s side feeling a strange tightness in his throat. She looks almost motherly as she pats Juno’s hand.

“I think he does, Boss.” With that, she raises her eyebrows at Nureyev (aside from her hacking skills, he never thought of Rita as particularly intimidating until that moment), grabs her snacks and comms unit, and tells Peter she’s going to get some water.

She doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

Peter is left with a softly snoring Juno and no idea what to do with his hands. He takes a seat and rests his fingers as close as he dares to the detective’s curls.

“I do. I do see you better, Juno,” he whispers.

***

Juno wakes up an hour before the next dose, shivering and trying to pull Peter’s arm over him. It almost gives Peter a heart attack.

He pulls a blanket from a nearby bed as soon as he can extract his arm. Grabs a second one for good measure. His arm is burning from where it came into contact with Juno, and for a moment he remembers another night, arm flung haphazardly around the detective, skin burning.

He resigns himself to a sleepless night.

Two hours later, he’s woken by Juno kicking and flailing under the now-sweaty pile of blankets.

As he smoothes a damp washcloth over Juno’s forehead, Juno mutters, “No wait, Diamond, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve come home,” And oh the temptation to ask. Juno is feverish and lost in a past he’s locked away. As badly as he wants to unlock that past and spread it out before him in neatly ordered files that might give him an inkling of what makes up Juno, of who he’s supposed to be around this new Juno…

But he knows Juno would never forgive him if he took advantage now. So he is silent, stroking the cloth on Juno’s forehead. Biting his tongue.

When Vespa enters the medbay early the next morning, she wakes Peter with a snort. Somehow even her smugness is aggressive. After extracting his arm (again, damn it) from Juno’s vice-like grip, he wraps his robe a bit tighter and stalks out of the room, head held high even as he feels his cheeks burning.

***

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged!”

Peter hesitates outside the medbay door, not sure he wants to walk straight into the crossfire. He’s managed to avoid Vespa and Juno’s battleground all day, but Buddy wouldn’t let that stand.

“I’m not taking your goddamn poison, Vespa!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, did I hurt your fragile little feelings? Would you like Ransom back?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend was in here playing nursemaid all night,” Vespa growled, suspicion creeping into her voice. “Ya know, I’m starting to recall that neither of you ever did elaborate on where you know each other from.”

So Juno didn’t remember last night. He spluttered for a moment, but recovered enough to weakly retort, “Right, which you would know because… aw, Vespa, were you in here all night? I didn’t know you cared.”

“I couldn’t care less , I only know because--” Peter decided this was an opportune moment to interrupt. High excitement, bad for healing.

“Vespa! Tea, there you are, I brought a tray, is there anything else I could get for you?”

Juno was propped up, pale but coherent, and Vespa was standing over him, fists clenched. She whirled on Peter. “I don’t recall asking you for--”

“Excellent! I’ll leave it over here for your return. Buddy sent me with dinner for our patient, but would love to see you in the dining room. I trust that would be agreeable to you?”

For a moment Peter worried she might stay and argue, but with an exasperated “ fine ”, she turned heel and stalked off.

Faced with direct eye contact from a lucid Juno, Peter suddenly wished he hadn’t set the food down so fast. He needed something to do with his hands.

Juno broke the silence first, letting his head fall back on the pillows behind it. “Tell Buddy I can get my own dinner, you don’t have to trouble yourselves.”

Peter studied the detective. “It’s no trouble, Juno. You had us all worried,” he said quietly.

Juno scoffed. “I needed some whiskey and a good night’s rest, that’s all.”

“Rita was very concerned--”

This time Juno let out a derisive laugh. “Rita’s also very concerned about Greta Glamour and whether she’ll survive the robot ghost apocalypse next season. No offense, but she’s not the pinnacle of practicality.”

Peter knew Juno was being difficult on purpose. He knew he was embarrassed and picking a fight. He rose to the bait anyway, voice rising with each word. “You passed out on your bathroom floor because you couldn’t keep yourself upright! Jet had to carry you to that bed! Your fever was so high it was burning through your body and shutting it down--”

Juno cut him off.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me!” His voice became harsher. “No one wants to see you when you’re sick! No one likes you like that! It’s disgusting, it’s something you take care of privately, and why are you looking at me like that?”

Peter tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. It was obvious Juno was repeating someone else’s words. He felt a tug in his gut. Before he could come up with a response, however, Juno was talking again.

“God, Nureyev, I’m sorry, I completely went off at you. When,” he clears his throat and the words come out in a rush, “when I got sick in Hyperion, I just drank. Until I couldn’t feel it anymore. You’re right though, this was my bad.”

Peter moved to sit gingerly on the side of the bed. “No, Juno. It wasn’t your bad, or anyone’s bad. We all get sick.” He rested his hand on what he hoped was the general area of Juno’s knee. “We want to help because we care about you even when you aren’t at your best,” he caught Juno’s eye. “You don’t have to isolate yourself.”

Peter can’t help but feel a bit smug when he sees a deep blush rising up Juno’s throat. “Well I-- that’s-- thanks, I guess,” he grumbles. “But I’m going to get you sick too if you stay in here too long.��

“I think we passed that threshold last night, Juno dear.” He can’t keep the flirtation out of his voice any longer. It slips over him like a comfortable gown, hiding all his insecurities and doubts.

“What,” the detective deadpans.

“Speaking of,” Peter grows slightly more serious, “I wouldn’t hold a lady to the words she says while she’s in the throes of a fever, but you were apologizing. To someone, last night, quite distraught.”

Juno doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth opens a few times, as if he’s trying to shovel the right words out but they’re too heavy. At least for right now. The way he’s looking at Peter feels like a confession in itself as he says slowly, “Must’ve been delirious.”

“Well, the past is the past, and I say we drink to the future. Well, I’ll drink my tea, and you can drink the lovely medicine Vespa so kindly located for you.”

“Don’t push it, Ransom.”

“Or,” Peter stands to retrieve a bottle from the tray he brought in.

“Is that from Buddy’s private stash? You sly dog.” Juno lifts the alcohol appreciatively. The container is about a quarter full.

“Vespa’s, actually. I thought you deserved a bit of celebration since you missed the post-heist dinner last night.”

“Dangerous game, Nureyev. A toast?”

Peter lifts his teacup and says mildly, “To your health.”

Juno finishes half the bottle in a gulp and immediately begins spluttering. He rounds on Peter.

“Did you put medicine in a whiskey bottle?!”

“All the dishes were in the wash.”

“This isn’t a dish. This is trash.” The detective scowls deeply.

Peter only shrugs. “Rita saves them for something.”

“Rita--” Juno stops. Lets out a strange chuckle. Peter doesn’t inquire further, but the corner of his lips quirk upwards when he sees Juno sneak another sip and complain, “Vespa doesn’t even drink, damn it.”

I do see you better.