#looking forward to a little icebreaking between these two

[pedroscowgirl]

The Lie Detector Test

Hugh jackman x reader!actress

Warnings!!!: minors dni!!

mentions of: daddy issues , age gap (reader is in their 20s), smut (duh), oral!receiving, p in v, creampie (wrap it up), semi-public sex?, pet names (baby,princess), fluff at the end and lots of romantic kisses

lmk if i missed some!!

Words: 4.3K (i went a little crazy cuz I'm so down bad for this man omg)

A/N: This is the first time in years that I've written a fanfiction so pls be kind 🙈

You had just finished filming the latest blockbuster, and the studio had arranged a promotional event to build hype for the movie. The concept was unique and promised to be a hit: a lie detector test featuring you and Hugh Jackman, your co-star. The aim was to show a fun and candid side of both of you, offering fans an intimate glimpse into your personalities.

You remembered your first day on set with Hugh vividly. It was a sunny morning, and you were a bundle of nerves, excited and anxious about working with such a celebrated actor. Hugh had approached you with his trademark warmth, extending a hand and offering a reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m Hugh. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your work,” he said, his voice carrying a genuine note of friendliness.

You shook his hand, grateful for his easygoing nature. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Hugh. I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

From that moment on, your chemistry on set was undeniable. Hugh’s professionalism and charm made every scene enjoyable, and your natural rapport translated effortlessly on screen. Between takes, you found yourselves sharing stories and jokes, the lines between your characters and real life blurring as you formed a close friendship. But behind your confident exterior, you felt a tug of nerves whenever he was near. Hugh Jackman wasn't just any actor; he was the embodiment of the older, charismatic figures you'd found attractive for as long as you could remember.

You had always known you had some form of daddy issues. Growing up with an emotionally absent father, you had a tendency to be drawn to older, authoritative figures. Hugh fit that mold perfectly, and being around him made you acutely aware of your attraction to him. His deep voice, his kind eyes, the way he carried himself with such ease...it all made your heart race.

Fast forward to the day of the lie detector test, the studio was buzzing with excitement. The set was designed to look sleek and modern, with a large, imposing lie detector machine at the center. Cameras were positioned to capture every angle, ensuring that no reaction or subtle expression would be missed by the audience.

You took your seat across from Hugh, who was already connected to the machine by Lou, the lie detector specialist. The studio lights reflected off his charismatic smile as he settled in, ready for the challenge.

“Ready for this, Hugh?�� you asked, trying to hide your amusement and the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Just go easy on me, alright?”

You picked up the first question card, the icebreaker questions designed to set a light-hearted tone. You both took turns answering questions about your favorite movies, childhood memories, and behind-the-scenes antics from the movie set. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and playful teasing, showcasing the easy relationship that had developed between you two.

Then, feeling a mischievous urge, you decided to go off-script.

“Okay, Hugh,” you said, leaning forward with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. “How do you feel about people on the internet calling you ‘daddy’ or 'father'?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the unexpected question. He took a moment to think before answering, “Well, I do have kids., so technically , I am a father.”

You tilted your head and smirked, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hugh chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. “Well, I don’t mind i guess” he admitted, glancing at Lou for confirmation.

Lou looked at the lie detector’s readings and nodded. “Truthful,” he confirmed.

“Good to know,” you said with a playful wink. “That was actually not a question on the cards. I just wanted to give the people with daddy issues what they want. You're so welcome.”

Hugh laughed again, biting his lip as he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You felt a thrill at the way he was looking at you, the playful banter taking a more intimate turn. “Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, your voice softening. Your heart pounded harder, realizing just how much he affected you. You could feel your palms sweating and hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your hands as you reached for the next question card.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, with flirtatious comments and lingering glances exchanged between questions. Each time Hugh's gaze lingered on you a bit longer, your heart raced a little faster. You tried to focus on the questions, but your mind kept drifting to the way he looked at you, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

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

As the interview came to an end, you both stood up, removing your microphones. The studio crew began to pack up, the hustle and bustle of the set slowly fading into the background. Hugh caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Hey, why don’t we head to the dressing room? We can talk more privately there,” he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something more.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Sure, sounds good.”

You both made your way through the winding corridors of the studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. As you approached the dressing rooms, the anticipation grew, every glance exchanged between you filled with unspoken tension.

Hugh opened the door to his dressing room, allowing you to step inside first. The room was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a small table with snacks and drinks. You took a seat, trying to calm your racing heart as Hugh closed the door behind him, shutting out the world outside.

He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You were great today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He walked over to the small table and picked up a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Here, have some water. You’ve earned it.”

You accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. The cool water was refreshing, helping to steady your nerves. Hugh sat down across from you, his gaze never wavering.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning playful, “I think you might be even more captivating off-screen than on. It’s quite a talent.”

You choked on your water, caught off guard by his flirtatious comment. Coughing slightly, you set the bottle down and tried to regain your composure. “Thanks, Hugh,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushing. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hugh chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping I wasn’t being too forward.” He paused, letting his eyes sweep over your outfit. “That dress, by the way, is incredibly sexy. It’s been hard to concentrate all day.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. “I—thank you,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken desire.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You really do look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with that sexy australian accent. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all day.”

You felt a thrill at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice, made it hard to breathe. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hugh,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your breath catch. You could feel the tension building between you, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hugh," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He didn't reply, but his eyes said everything. He was as caught up in this moment as you were. His other hand came up to cup your face, holding you gently but firmly. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic pull drawing you closer. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes, seeking permission, waiting for a sign.

You gave the slightest nod, a silent invitation. That was all he needed.

Slowly, as if savoring every second, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters. The contact was gentle, almost feather-light, but it sent a wave of heat through your body. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, growing more confident and demanding. His lips moved against yours with a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire within you. You responded eagerly, your body pressing closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer still. You could feel the strength in his grip, the possessive way he held you making your pulse quicken. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, filled with unspoken promises and undeniable chemistry.

When he pulled you closer, you could feel his bulge pressing against you, the sensation igniting a fire deep within. A rush of heat surged through your body, making you aware of how much you craved him. Every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation, and the space between you crackled with unspoken desire.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. The intensity of it made your knees weak, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for more. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, hard and demanding against your stomach, and it only fueled your longing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, to feel every part of him.

Your breath quickened, each inhale filled with the intoxicating scent of him. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, sliding down his chest, over the taut muscles, until they reached his belt. Your fingers fumbled in your eagerness, trembling with the intensity of your desire. The thought of what was to come made your heart race, and you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed him.

Just as you began to loosen his belt, Hugh’s hand covered yours, halting your movements. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the dominance in his touch made you shiver. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Nu uh, not yet, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and filled with a fierce determination that made your pulse quicken even more. “I want to please you first.”

The promise in his words made your heart skip a beat, and the anticipation of what he was about to do was almost too much to bear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you let out a soft whimper, the need inside you growing more insistent.

His other hand slid down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and you arched into him, silently begging for more. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and focus, made you feel like the center of his world.

“Hugh, please,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to savor every moment.”

Hugh's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped your thighs, lifting you with an effortless strength that made your breath hitch. He set you down on his desk, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin. The room felt charged, every second stretching out as his intense gaze bore into you. Your heart raced, anticipation and desire coiling in your belly. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I take a look at your panties and take them off?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with intent.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you bit your lip, your body responding to his every word. You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted, but he wasn't satisfied with your silent answer. "I need words, baby," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. His eyes held a command that you couldn't ignore. "Yes," you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to take them off, please."

A slow smile spread across his face, sending a thrill through you. He slid his hands under your dress, fingers brushing against your thighs as he lifted you slightly. With deliberate, teasing movements, he peeled your black lace panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. The air felt electric, every touch sending sparks along your skin. His eyes roamed over your now-bare form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The question made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. You met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "No," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "My granny underwear is in the washing machine." The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and oddly intimate.

Hugh's grin widened, his eyes darkening with amusement and desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think I prefer the lace," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you. The tension between you was unbearable, an unspoken promise of what was to come.

He knelt before you, his eyes dark with hunger and intent. The anticipation made your breath quicken as he placed his strong hands on your thighs, gently parting them and lifting them onto his broad shoulders. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, filled with a confident, almost predatory desire. He paused for a moment, giving you a sexy look that sent shivers down your spine, before dipping his head between your legs.

The first touch of his mouth against you was like nothing you'd ever felt. You gasped, your body arching towards him as his warm breath and skillful tongue explored your most sensitive spots. He started slowly, teasing you with soft strokes, his lips and tongue moving with practiced expertise. The sensation was incredible, each flick and swirl driving you wild. When he began to suck on your clit, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure so intense it felt like fire coursing through your veins.

You'd never been with an older man before, and the thrill of his experience, his confidence, heightened every sensation. His touch was commanding yet tender, a perfect balance that made you melt under his ministrations. His tongue moved in amazing patterns, drawing you closer to the edge with every motion. The excitement of this new experience mixed with the raw pleasure, making your moans louder and more frequent.

Then, without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you. They filled you perfectly, curling just right to hit that sweet spot. The sudden intrusion made you gasp and clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. As you tugged, a deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and you felt a building pressure, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The combination of his skilled mouth and the fullness of his fingers was overwhelming, pushing you towards the brink. You could feel his own enjoyment in the way he groaned against you, his voice low and resonant, spurring you on. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate and precise, as if he knew exactly what you needed, where to touch to make you come undone.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you couldn't hold back. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your hands gripping his hair even tighter. His fingers and tongue moving faster, more insistent. The feel of his mouth and hands on you, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, and then you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The release was overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling. He continued to pleasure you through it all, his touch gentle but unrelenting, until you were spent and utterly satisfied.

As you came down from the high, your breaths ragged, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. The sight of him, lips glistening with your pleasure, sent a final shiver down your spine.

You were still catching your breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, when Hugh pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. The sensation was intoxicating; you could taste yourself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you'd just shared. His fingers trailed back to your core, seeking to reignite the fire, but you pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Please, Hugh," you panted, your voice laced with desperation. "I'm begging you, I need to feel you inside me right now, or I'm going to go crazy." The urgency in your voice was undeniable,your body aching with unfulfilled desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound a dark, velvety caress that made your skin tingle. "Oh, my poor princess can't wait to have Daddy inside her," he teased, his words dripping with amusement and lust. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite your lip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Oh, so you really like being called Daddy, huh?" you purred, a teasing edge to your voice. "Well, I can arrange that for you." Your words were a playful challenge, a promise of more to come.

Hugh's lips curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled you into another heated kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a possessive intensity. As he kissed you, his hands deftly moved to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle and the rustle of fabric sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You watched with bated breath as he stripped off his pants and shirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. When your eyes fell on his impressive length, a gasp escaped your lips, louder than you'd intended. The sight of him, so big and ready, made your heart race and your core throb with need.

Hugh noticed your reaction and smirked, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll take our time." He reached out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, the touch tender in contrast to the raw passion between you.

As he stood before you, your eyes roamed over his body, drinking in the sight of his defined abs and broad, muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare at how well-built he was. "God, Hugh," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "You're so sexy. I can't believe how ripped you are for your age." Your hand traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the hard planes of his torso. "These abs, this body... it's incredible." You looked up at him, biting your lip, the admiration in your eyes unmistakable.

He laughed and positioned himself between your legs, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You felt his tip graze your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn't help but moan, your body arching towards him, craving more. He paused, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and desire. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please." Your voice was laced with anticipation and desperation, the need for him overwhelming.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Hugh began to push inside you. The stretch was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you inch by inch. Your nails dug into his biceps, your fingers curling around the hard muscle as you adjusted to his size. "Oh my god, Hugh," you moaned, your voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so big."

A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Call me Daddy, baby," he murmured, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Daddy," you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The sound seemed to fuel him, his hips snapping forward, burying himself fully inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that left you gasping.

As Hugh began to thrust in and out, setting a rhythm that drove you wild, the intensity of the moment heightened. The pleasure was almost too much, your back arching, head tilting back. Hugh noticed, concern flickering in his eyes. He reached up, cradling the back of your head with one strong hand, his touch gentle and protective. "Easy, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Don't want you hurting yourself against the wall." The tender gesture made your heart flutter even as your body surged with lust.

He continued to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection between you was electric, every movement synchronized, every breath shared. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. The pleasure built with each stroke, an intoxicating crescendo that left you breathless and begging for more.

Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to rub tight, precise circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. Your breath hitched, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea and a prayer. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, more demanding, driving you wild with need.

"Come for me, princess," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his deep, commanding voice and the skillful movements of his fingers and hips was too much. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it left you shaking.

Hugh groaned, the sound low and primal, as he felt you tighten around him. His movements became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. With a deep moan, he followed you over the edge, his release hot and deep inside you. The sensation sent a final wave of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms faded, Hugh leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips gentle and tender. The touch was a sweet contrast to the raw, passionate encounter you'd just shared. His hands caressed your skin, soothing you as you both came down from the high, the connection between you lingering in the air.

The room was silent except for your labored breaths, the intensity of the moment leaving you both in awe. Hugh pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft whispers of comfort and affection made you feel cherished and adored. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy that left you both craving more.

Just as you were catching your breath, a loud knock echoed from the door, making you both jump. You barely had time to react before you heard Ryan's voice, muffled but clear. "Hey, guys, next time be more subtle, okay?" His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the hint of amusement. You blushed furiously, burying your face in Hugh's chest as he chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Noted," Hugh called back, his voice laced with humor. He looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter next time, huh, princess?" He stroked your cheek tenderly, his expression softening. The playful moment broke the tension, leaving you both laughing softly, the bond between you stronger than ever.

[tacobacoyeet]

operation: just kiss already | jake peralta x reader

a/n: thank you for the request @glennussy! did you know that not only are you responsible for my first suits fic, you're also resposible for my first brooklyn nine-nine fic? how cool is that?! here's a short, silly little thing.

warnings: nothing really, but i tried to capture the cadence of an episode of brooklyn nine-nine with this, so it's not my usual writing style.

The bullpen was quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

Which should’ve tipped you off, but you were too busy arguing with Jake over the objectively superior Die Hard sequel. (It was the third one. Obviously.)

“No way,” Jake was saying, leaning so far back in his chair that it teetered on two legs. “Die Hard 2 has snow. Explosions. A villain who looks like the guy who sells hot tubs at the mall. It’s festive and explosive.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s derivative and soulless. John McClane deserves better. Die Hard with a Vengeance has buddy cop magic. It has riddles. It has Samuel L. Jackson.”

Jake gasped. “You only like that one because of the riddles.”

“Correct. And also because it’s better in every possible way.”

He grinned at you, all teeth and ridiculous enthusiasm. “You’re so wrong, and it’s adorable.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Rosa had entered the bullpen mid-debate. She stood frozen for a second, eyes narrowed as she watched Jake scoot his chair closer to yours under the guise of making a point. You were both laughing now—loudly, obnoxiously, obliviously.

She turned on her heel, marched into the briefing room, and slammed the door open. Amy looked up from her planner.

“They’re flirting again,” Rosa said. “Loudly. About Die Hard.”

Amy let out a strangled noise and flung her highlighter across the room. “That’s the third time this week!”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Boyle said, his voice cracking with emotion. “It’s like watching two golden retrievers discover love but never actually go for the tennis ball.”

Terry looked up from his yogurt. “They need a push.”

“No,” Holt said firmly from the doorway. “What they need is therapy. But I’ll settle for a strategic intervention.”

Rosa raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

He sighed. “Mandatory team-building. Effective immediately.”

Amy clapped her hands. “I’ll make the schedule.”

“Operation: Just Kiss Already is a go,” Terry muttered.

Boyle was already crying.

-----

The next morning, you walked into the precinct, coffee in hand and zero suspicion in your heart. Jake appeared beside you like a particularly handsome ghost.

"Morning, partner," he said, stealing a sip of your drink without asking. You let him, as always.

“Morning, parasite.”

“Aw. You say the sweetest things.”

You were halfway through bickering over who would win in a fight between Bruce Willis and a sentient vending machine when Amy called out: “Everyone to the briefing room!”

Jake perked up. “Ooh, emergency? Murder? Vending machine uprising?”

“Worse,” Rosa muttered, brushing past. “Icebreakers.”

You shot Jake a look. “Should we run?”

“Too late.”

Inside the briefing room, Holt stood with a large poster behind him that read: TEAM-BUILDING WEEK: PRECINCT UNITY AND COHESION.

Boyle had decorated it with glitter pens.

Jake leaned toward you and whispered, “That poster feels like a trap.”

“You feel like a trap,” you muttered back.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Welcome,” Holt said, deadpan. “This week will consist of a series of exercises meant to bolster teamwork and deepen interpersonal bonds. Participation is mandatory. Complaining is futile.”

Terry stepped forward, clapping once. “We’re starting with a classic: Trust Falls.”

Jake groaned audibly. “Oh no. No, no, no. I have very little trust and a lot of fall-related trauma.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Amy chirped, already pairing everyone up. “You’re with Y/N.”

Jake turned to you, giving a mock-solemn nod. “If I die, avenge me.”

“Noted.”

You stood behind him, arms out. He looked over his shoulder suspiciously.

“You’re not gonna let me hit the ground just to prove a point, right?”

“Depends. Do you admit Die Hard 3 is superior?”

He gasped. “You would let me die.”

But he let himself fall anyway—and you caught him.

Jake blinked up at you from your arms. “Huh. I didn’t die. That’s kind of romantic.”

You laughed. “Don’t push it, Peralta.”

Across the room, Amy wrote something down in her binder and underlined it three times.

Boyle wiped away a tear. “They’re so beautiful.”

-----

The next activity was announced during lunch.

“Desert Island Scenarios,” Terry declared, holding up a laminated packet. “Each pair will be given a list of items and a survival scenario. Work together to decide what to keep, what to ditch, and how you’d make it off the island. It’s about problem-solving and cooperation.”

Jake immediately raised his hand. “Are we allowed to weaponize coconuts?”

“No,” Amy said flatly.

“Fine. Then I call dibs on building our shelter.” He nudged you. “You good with palm fronds?”

You smirked. “As long as I’m not the one weaving them.”

The two of you were given a scenario card that read: Shipwrecked on an uninhabited island. No rescue expected for two weeks.

Jake read aloud: “You may choose only five of the following ten items: a hatchet, a tarp, a fishing net, waterproof matches, a flare gun, a pot, a deck of cards, duct tape, a mirror, or a radio with no batteries.”

You both immediately said, “Matches.”

Jake beamed. “We’re so in sync.”

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, coconut buddy.”

By the end of the exercise, you had drawn a map of your imaginary island, built a fantasy hut, and decided you’d survive by fishing, drinking boiled rainwater, and arguing over who got the hammock.

Jake looked disturbingly pleased with himself.

“Honestly?” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “I think we’d make a pretty great apocalypse duo.”

You didn’t say anything.

But you didn’t look away either.

Across the room, Rosa whispered, “They’re doomed.”

Boyle sobbed quietly into his lunch.

-----

“Next up,” Amy announced the following day, with barely restrained glee, “is the Compliment Gauntlet!”

Jake looked alarmed. “That sounds suspiciously emotional.”

“That’s because it is,” Amy said. “Each person will be tethered wrist-to-wrist to a partner while offering increasingly specific compliments. The rope only comes off when both people have given a compliment that makes the other physically blush.”

You stared at her. “What kind of twisted Hallmark-bootcamp is this?”

“Justice,” Rosa muttered. “Sweet, calculated justice.”

Jake grinned. “Well, looks like we’re stuck with each other. Again.”

“I’m starting to think that’s intentional.”

“You think?” he said, already extending his wrist toward you. “I’m shocked, truly.”

The rope was tied. Amy set a timer. “Begin.”

Jake smirked. “You have the best taste in snacks and the most expressive eye rolls I’ve ever seen.”

You blinked. “You remembered my snack order?”

“Down to the exact number of gummy bears.”

Your cheeks warmed. Damn it.

“Your hair looks really good today,” you said quickly, deflecting.

He tilted his head. “That’s cute, but not enough. We both know it.”

You exhaled. “You’re the most annoyingly observant, big-hearted disaster of a detective I’ve ever met, and it drives me insane in a way that’s... weirdly endearing.”

Jake blinked.

The tips of his ears turned red.

The rope fell to the ground with a dramatic snap.

Boyle audibly gasped.

Amy fist-pumped. “YES!"

Rosa nodded, satisfied. “Finally.”

Jake looked down at the rope, then at you. “So… we blushed.”

You stared back. “We did.”

His grin grew slow and dumb. “That means we’re... great at this.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are.”

-----

The final activity arrived with all the subtlety of a bombshell.

“Tonight’s exercise,” Amy announced, trying not to visibly vibrate with excitement, “is called ‘The Trust Maze.’”

Jake squinted. “Is this about corn mazes? Because I got lost in one as a kid and accidentally joined another family.”

“No,” Amy said. “This is a communication challenge. One person wears a blindfold. The other gives verbal directions to guide them through an obstacle course set up in the evidence room. Minimal lighting. Maximum confusion. The only way out is teamwork.”

Jake turned to you, grinning. “So basically, I stumble around in the dark while you yell at me?”

“Pretty much,” you replied. “Sounds like a Tuesday.”

Boyle handed Jake a blindfold. “Godspeed, buddy.”

Moments later, Jake was standing at the starting line of a makeshift maze made of overturned chairs, file boxes, and caution tape, blindfold secured. The lights were dimmed.

“You ready, Y/N?” Terry called from the corner, stopwatch in hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, stepping beside the tape.

“Go!”

“Okay,” you called. “Take two steps forward. No—your other forward. Right.”

Jake flailed and corrected himself. “You need to define directions better!”

“Maybe if you didn’t walk like a baby deer on ice!”

Laughter echoed from the bullpen.

“Turn left! Now duck—DUCK!”

Jake dropped to a crouch as a mop handle swung above his head.

“Holy crap,” he breathed. “You’re actually trying to kill me.”

“Only if you keep making Die Hard 2 references.”

He stumbled forward again, miraculously avoiding a stack of boxes. “You know, this would be a lot more romantic if I weren’t sweating profusely and fearing death.”

You hesitated for half a second, voice quieter now. “Romantic?”

Jake stopped. “Wait, did I say that out loud?”

You didn’t answer. He tugged the blindfold up just enough to peek at you.

The room fell quiet.

“I mean,” he started, his voice suddenly more genuine than it had been all week, “this whole thing’s kind of ridiculous, right? Everyone trying to make us figure out what we apparently can’t?”

You looked at him, soft and stunned. “You think we’re that oblivious?”

Jake smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I also know I like arguing with you. I like drinking your coffee. I like... the way you always catch me.”

Your heart was hammering.

“I like you,” he said. “A lot.”

You took a slow step forward until you were right in front of him. “Then maybe,” you murmured, reaching up to pull the blindfold fully off, “you should stop letting everyone else tell you when to do something about it.”

Jake’s breath hitched.

And then you kissed him.

The entire bullpen erupted.

“FINALLY!” Boyle screamed.

Amy high-fived Rosa. Holt closed his office door with a muttered, “About time.”

Terry just grinned and marked something off on a clipboard.

Jake pulled back slightly, dazed. “So... uh... do we win team-building week?”

You grinned. “We just might’ve broken the scoreboard.”

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 19/02/2024

Plantasia 2

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume D

Ripped by MaxTrax

Requested by The Eight O’Clock Comet and an anonymous reader!

Remember those times where I've mused on just how interesting it is to fall into rabbitholes from running this blog? Y'know, with waterwraith pokos - a rip I once thought nothing of that refuses to leave my head since I learned more about its joke origin and spread. There's a good number more rabbitholes just like it, yet few have truly caught my attention quite the way Plantasia 2 did. And, beyond it too being a rip of Pikmin 2, the strangest part of it all is - it hardly feels as if the rip itself even *wanted* to be uncovered.

I'm half certain that I myself missed out on the rip's core premise from tabbing out after listening for a bit, because it presents itself as so innocuously. A track as immediately distinct and identifiable in sound as Results of the Day, melody swapped to some classic SiIva jokes: Among Us Drip, Grand Dad, Nutshack - Oh what silly whimsy, what hijinx! An everyday, standard, good-quality rip to send to your Pikmin-interested friends as an icebreaker, without much else to it - and that's the way it stays for almost two whole minutes of its runtime. Click, laugh at the bait-and-switch joke, move on - the typical rip listening experience for many viewers (or at least myself) truly doesn't do Plantasia 2 justice.

Because, as you yourself may have noticed - at the minute-fifty timestamp, the rip hard-pivots in direction, to the point of even getting original visuals, all in loving tribute to the 1976 album Mother Earth's Plantasia by Mort Garson. If you're unfamiliar, I don't blame you, but just a quick glance at both him and his album's Wikipedia pages will tell you just how much of a legacy they both have. With the intent of making music specifically for plants to listen to, to the point of only distributing the album alongside purchases of houseplants from the titular Mother Earth store, Mother Earth's Plantasia was one of the first albums to have ever been composed entirely on a Moog synthesizer - purely for the listening pleasure of plant-life. In other words: It's pretty important to the history of synthesized music in general! Beyond that historical angle, it of course helps that the title track Plantasia, the one that Plantasia 2 is an arrangement of in particular, is absolutely soul-cleansingly beautiful, with an opening prelude that immediately brought to mind everything from Final Fantasy to Minecraft, yet building to a triumphant crescendo that reminded me of We're Finally Landing of SummoningSalt-video fame. The influences taken from Mother Earth's Plantasia can be felt everywhere, yet the root of it all feels all too forgotten about.

To say that Pikmin is the perfect franchise to use for this kind of tribute would be an understatement - the synth-driven Results of the Day theme has persisted with the series since its very beginning, conveying the beauty of space within a game otherwise so focused on exploring beautiful gardens. It's as if its conveying a sort of juxtaposition between the two sides to Pikmin's world, ytet the feeling that both it and the original Mother Earth's Plantasia convey is also one of connection between the two. The plants looking to the stars, to other unknown life beyond planet earth, longingly dreaming about the universe...the Pikmin are just little plant guys, and yet a theme like Results of the Day sparks so many emotions. I can't help but feel yet more emotional thinking about the humble, pure-hearted upbringings of both Pikmin and Mother Earth's Plantasia - both Shigeru Miyamoto and Mort Garson sought to create something out of a love for nature itself moreso than fame and fortune, and in doing so helped move their respective mediums forward in thoroughly underappreciated ways.

MaxTrax's list of contributions to the SiIvaGunner channel is comparatively small, with him seemingly ebbing in and out of activity practically every other year. Yet that gives me the impression that he genuinely puts his whole heart into each contribution he makes, to share these small, niche little nuggets of his interests to the broader SiIvaGunner audience; much the same impression I got from the ripper Uncle Fill in Violet Snow Memories. For MaxTrax, Plantasia doesn't appear to just be some neat song to tinker around with for another rip - Plantasia 2 exudes that feel of being a genuine passion project, akin to rips like Jesus of the Underground. Yet, much like Mother Earth's Plantasia or Pikmin itself, it also seems perfectly content in not being a big, explosive, all-eyeballs-on-me event of a release: the ones who are going to notice the true intentions of Plantasia 2 are the Pikmin fans who were going to listen to it the whole way through anyway.

It's all still just so bizarre to me - the rip does a *double* bait-and-switch in a way I haven't really seen much of since it was first done way back in Be Cool, Be Wild, and Be My Girl, yet...doesn't do it at the expense of, or as a joke played on, the audience. It is purely a surprise treat to those SiIvaGunner fans who truly pay attention, who approach the channel with care and dignity, engaging with other fans in dialogue - again, I'm almost certain that I missed the point of it when it was first uploaded and only found out about its true intentions through more than one person requesting it for the blog! The sense of community that SiIvaGunner is able to create through finding your own special little rips, sharing them with others, being invited to uncover these fascinating little pieces of knowledge purely from a rippers' interests...it really is special, and Plantasia 2 truly does embody it in such a fascinating, befitting way. Because really: what could possibly be more representative of love, compassion, empathy and care for others, than to tend to one's garden with such a human form of expression as music?

[lustnluv]

how my readers interact with each other

swan knew kitten because kitten babysits swan’s brother. swan was a little shy around kitten at first because of her reputation but hearing and seeing how kitten takes care of her little brother like he’s her own makes swan see a different side of her. swan asks if kitten wants to get her nails down and does it for free. kitten keeps making excuses for it because she doesn’t want to get in trouble but swan insists. they talk about colleges they want to go to and kitten gets swan hooked on some smut books. only soft smut though like icebreaker.

swan and puppy knew each other csuse of the club. everytime swan is there she requests puppy. swan has posed for puppy camera before to get a small drawing done. it was nude and it was a gift for rafe. puppy looks forward to swan coming because is one who does like to talk and doesn’t mind how bouncy and weird she is. she also tips really well. like better then what she’s supposed to.

swan was confused why wolf didn’t like her until she remembered who her boyfriend was. she went up to her all smiles while getting a beer and wolf glares at her before walking away. wolf didn’t like she acted like nothing happened between their two boyfriends. let alone her boyfriend jumped pope. wolf didn’t start to warm up to swan until she saw swan’s leash on rafe. she might be nice but she walks that man like a dog. wolf didn’t even apologize for acting mean she just complimented her nails and they were best friends.

puppy and kitten have a sisterly vibe. puppy would go over to kitten and ask her about advice with jb. kitten even takes her to get underwear and bras because puppy is nervous. kitten hypes her up with every thong and bra she tries on. in return kitten’s reputation is getting protected by puppy. every rumor that she hears she’s telling them they have no idea who kitten really is and how she wouldn’t get pregnant and just leave it to die.

puppy and wolf were friends before they started dating jj and jb. when wolf dropped jj off at work and puppy was coming outside, best believe she’s giving her a ride home. they don’t play music, wolf lets puppy yap her ear off cause she knows she wasnt able to at work. puppy painting and dropping off some to wolf cause she would hang it up at the mechanic shop. puppy having a fidget with her so she could have something to do during boring classes that won’t get her in trouble and would start carrying a extra one for wolf. when they start dating jb and jj they just got closer.

wolf and kitten is a force to be reckoned with. they both got a mouth on them. one likes to fight and one is the girl your man probably tried to get with at one point so if you step towards them prepared to get knocked out or embarrassed. at parties they cause pope stress cause they’re all over the place together while jj is sitting back watching saying it’s fine. it’s not. they’re dancing together on tables - if not tables then on thier boys, outdrinking kooks, and straight up trying to provoke their boys to take them somewhere and fuck them.

[ev-bell-logbook]

Storytelling // Projects // Sem 1 // Week 1

30/09/24

Started off the lesson with a group discussion. A bit of an icebreaker. We talked about each of the third year projects we were involved in, and also the performance we watched Thursday (26/09/24) night - FAMEHUNGRY. It was brought up that Louise's performance felt very fragmented and that it seemed to have no through-link throughout. I do agree with this to some extent, it did feel as though she was switching from task to task too quickly and that each task was individual. However, I believe this was a choice made by Louise to further enforce the 'Tik Tok' feel of her performance. FAMEHUNGRY is an obvious statement on Tik Tok and it's impression on people today. There appears to be a correlation between Tik Tok and the shortening of attention spans in todays youth. By using a more fragmented and episodic structure Louise Orwin creates this feel of 'doom scrolling' and going from one video to the next without so much of a care in the world. It's very effective, I found that each abrupt stop in the task would leave me to question what would come next and if it would satisfy my need for dopamine that a silly little Tik Tok would. After our discussion we ran a warm-up. This included another ice-breaker activity (I know I'm getting sick of them too), where you had to teach a partner three new exercises. Then we started the fun bit: Exercise/Game 1 - A walking game

As always... walk around the room, avoiding walking in a circle and trying to find the space. Then we'll add some rules.

Jump - jump in a circle

Dash - dash forward a few spaces

Turn - place a hand on the floor and use that to turn and change direction

Look - Stop where you are and stare at someone for five seconds (you don't need to make eye contact)

Centre - Everyone runs to the centre getting as close as possible

Clear - Everyone runs to the outskirts of the room

Fold - You collapse (controlled) into a ball on the floor and have to get up the same way you got down

The point of this game is to once again warm everyone up. Not only does it warm up people's bodies, but also their brains. Once the instructions become quickfire see if you can catch anyone out. This exercise gets you to think about the space you're in, and the other people in the room. Something very important to consider when on stage.

Exercise/Game 2 - Places game

Choose your favourite space in the room - this is home

Choose another spot, and another, and another

Make sure you can walk to each spot with only a count of four between

Start cycling through your spots try not to bump into anyone else on the way

This game also makes you think about you in regards to your space and your peers. It's really important to practice blocking and make sure your movements are consistent in order to not throw your peers and if they have amore extreme movement then they can get to their mark in the right time as well. It can also stop traffic jams onstage.

Exercise/Game 3 - Counting exercise

Get into pairs or small groups

Count to whatever number is next in your group i.e. a pair would count to three, a trio would count to four

Try and increase the pace an intensity

Incorporate actions if needed to help remember order

Start replacing numbers with actions and sounds

This exercise helps improve listening skills. The more you try and fall into your own rhythm and stop listening to your group/partner the easier it is to go wrong. You have to continuously pay attention to do it right. Once you get to the final step it also gets you to really think about physicality with some of the things you can create actions for (it can be anything) Exercise/Game 4 - Best Story in The World

Get into pairs

Tell your whole life story in two minutes

Try and re-call your partner's story

Get into two lines

Everyone tells their story at the same time

One line tells their story again - the other mirrors the gestures

Heighten your gestures to really tell the story

Narration and storytelling are key things to look at as an actor. They make audiences more engaged with performances when pulled off well.

[venalier]

BIRD-LIKE WINGS.

wingbeats lift with a clatter of hooves and a puff of churning dust for the dozenth time this morning, but caeldori's gut seems to stay firmly rooted in the ground. belle's loud snort of impatience goes unacknowledged — he was the one who'd demanded her attention while she'd had something urgent to do, so he wasn't allowed to have complaints about the stopping and starting! "we'll have to widen our search," she tells him firmly — or maybe herself. "i can't imagine honomi went so far on his own, but i can't find him anywhere on these grounds. ogre toes, where could he've gone?"

bellerophon whinnies as if he had any idea what was causing his rider so much distress.

though if he were capable of voicing it, the sentiment would more likely be ' all this over some wood and strings? '

nevertheless, it was some wood and strings that caeldori was willing to turn every stone of garreg mach thrice over for — and in some places, already had. the greenhouse, the shady nook behind the pond, the lattices above the tea tables; she had returned to each of the automaton's favorite spots two or even three times, just in case she had missed the flicker of checker-spotted wings in passing.

he wasn't all that big. and he had the fear of being small and breakable instilled within him.

the thought of honomi going missing was unbearable — like a string snapping, sending a well-loved kite sailing away into the sky, an irretrievable piece of what it meant to be somebody somewhere gone forever. the flighted karakuri prototype was one of a kind, yes; it was just a toy all things considered, yes; but her panic was neither because or in spite of either of these things. the wooden bird was a memory: of a happy smile, a warm, shining presence backed by the sun; of long red hair and the whiff of camellias, and something to reach out and take hold of.

a long, curved beak; a black-speckled crest. just like — wait, just like that one!

"belle, there!" heart leaping to throat in a surge of hope, caeldori accelerates into a dive. arm outstretched to grab the flyaway bird, she doesn't realize the buffet of wings had unseated something else atop it entirely, knocking an unsuspecting rider into the wind.

   ♡   //   @hosannan

[amajikilvr]

five times you surprised tamaki amajiki and the one time he surprised you

word count 1.3k

reader type gender-neutral

“Amajiki-Kun?”

Their sweet voice makes his heart jolt, its beating rhythm shifts from a casual jog to a panicked sprint. He squeezes his eyes shut when he takes sight of the cheeky grin that quickly spreads across Mirio’s face. He remains frozen until his friend’s foot swings out and nicks him in the shin underneath their usual shared lunch table.

Tamaki’s eyes fly open and his breath catches on the stale cafeteria air like a bur snagging on an exposed sock when he inevitably sees them standing and gazing down at him. It’s a fleeting look, but it’s enough for him to notice the apples of their cheeks puffing out cutely and their whimsical aura of a smile that’s practically blinding.

His throat is bone-dry, but a single word somehow sneaks past his also withered lips.

“Y-Yes?” He’s still staring down at his half-eaten lunch, but they’re so utterly warm, he can easily feel them beside him.

What could they possibly want from him?

Another gentle kick to his lower leg encourages Tamaki to slowly lift his head and turn to them. He’s glad he did because their bright smile is somehow even brighter than before.

“So, hi, I know this is random but....”

They’re absolutely lovely in every sense of the word; from the way they draw out the last word to the breathy little laugh that punctuates their sentence.

“... I was wondering if you wanted this. I made way too many yesterday, but then I saw you sitting over here and remembered how you said you had a sweet tooth during that icebreaker on the first day of school. I just kinda thought “Oh, that’s perfect”, but you definitely don’t have to take it, okay?”

Amid his first stage cardiac arrest, Tamaki had failed to even see the skewer of delectable glistening Dango they’re holding. They offer it out to him and he manages to accept the dessert with a shaking hand.

“Thank you, Y/L/N.” He feels his face bloom with a rather powerful flush.

They nod and make heart-dropping eye contact for a second. “Of course, Amajiki. You’re very welcome. Have a nice day!”

Mirio starts talking before they’re even completely out of earshot.

“You do realize that they probably made those just for you? Congrats, I think someone has a not-so-secret admirer if you know what I mean.”

“Please not right now, Mirio…” Tamaki whines in embarrassment before taking a huge first bite out of his treat.

It’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted.

Tamaki gingerly tears off the little blue butterfly plush that was tapped to the front of his locker. He squeezes the stuffed animal and resists the sudden urge to hug it to his chest.

A single sheet of paper floats out and to his feet after opening the door. Someone must have put these here not that long ago. The realization gives Tamaki an unnerving chest pain and a fluttering crescendo in his stomach.

He carefully picks it up and a faint gasp escapes him as he examines the sparkly multi-colored butterfly stickers that cover the paper and the single sentence scrawled among them.

“I heard that you liked them <3”

Tamaki wants to shove his head in his locker, but before he does, he sees them out of the corner of his eye at the drinking fountain. He’s never seen them in this hallway before…

They finish and apparently spot him, smiling and waving brightly like it’s something the two of them do every day. Tamaki nearly faints on the spot with his heart pattering up a storm.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I forgot!” Nejire squeals and pushes away the textbook in front of her. It’s clear their weekly “Big Three” studying session is about to take the back burner…

“Amajiki, guess what?”

“What?” Tamaki winces, wondering how this could possibly involve him.

Nejire lets out another excited squawk and spins her decorated pen between her fingers. “Y/L/N was totally talking about you! I heard them! Do you know what they said? They think you’re really cute, Amajiki. Can you believe it?”

He can not.

Usually, hearing that others were talking about him would’ve sent waves of unbearable anxiety rushing over him, drowning him, but this whole thing feels a bit different. Don’t get it twisted, he’s still as anxious as ever clutching his pencil like a lifeline. The difference is that there’s a pleasant kind of flickering deep inside his chest.

“You’re joking…” Tamaki groans and jumps when Mirio slaps his back roughly.

“I knew it!” He makes an enthusiastic ‘whoop’ noise. “I told you that they were into you!”

Nejire clasps her hands together, her flowing mass of hair practically vibrating like the rest of her and her energy. “This is so, so adorable! Look how pink his ears are getting!”

Tamaki doesn’t hesitate to cover his face and hide away from his two well-meaning, but overbearing friends.

His savior comes in the form of a still laughing Mirio. “Hado-san, we’ve got to leave him be before he combusts on the spot.”

Tamaki can’t believe he agreed to this. Well, technically he didn’t have a choice in the matter, but still.

He’s selling t-shirts with his face on them. His face! Why would Fatgum ever think this was a good idea for a fundraiser? It’s horrifying, actually. People have already purchased some and he still can’t fathom it as an actual thing. Why would anyone want that?

And then everything goes into overdrive when they walk up to his stand, practically skipping with a winning smile.

He can’t help but gawk at them.

“What?” They tilt their head, an easy laugh masking any possibility of them being as flustered as him.

“I’m a huge fan of Suneater.”

Their lips are soft and lush when they brush against Tamaki’s burning cheek. He feels so warm, the closest thing that he can compare the feeling to is the sensation of when you dip into a steaming bubble bath. They’re just so close to him and he swears he can hear their heart beating as hard as his.

They pull away, lashes touching their cheekbones and exhaling deeping. Their hand still grips his forearm before that touch leaves him too.

“Bye… Tamaki.” His first name seems to hesitantly seep out and he feels like he’s floating. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s such a good feeling that he can’t even get himself to pay attention to his shock.

“See you tomorrow.”

This is long overdue and Tamaki knows it.

Mirio and Nejire’s encouragement plus his own common sense is pushing him to ask them out right now. It’s just odd that they haven’t done it first already. They were the ones initiating everything, after all. He guesses they’ve just left that up to him for whatever reason.

He’s going to rise to that occasion. He has to.

“I wanted to ask…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath to steady himself. They nod at him to continue. Their smile is gentle, equivalent to a fluffy blanket. Their eyes are sparkling, so glittering and alive. Their hands look soft, tempting to take and squeeze in his own.

“... D-Do you want to go out with me?”

Tamaki glups heavily and forces himself to watch for their reaction.

Those lively eyes go wide and honeyed lips part slightly. Their gaze swiftly falls to the ground and Tamaki’s heart takes a huge drop from several stories. It feels like it’s getting harder to breathe…

Suddenly, they move forward, wrapping their arms around his middle. Their face buries into the crook of his neck. He shivers and embracing them back when he hears, and feels, the words whispered against his exposed skin.

“I would love to.”

────────────────────────

[luv-leni]

Seven minutes in heaven with T1419

This came out kinda corny 😭

Enjoy!

Warning: super cringe descriptions of kissing, also vaguely suggestive in Kevin’s part

Noa

when you are picked to play seven minutes in heaven with Noa, he gets so excited

u two are probably already pretty close, but noa's heart is racing at the idea of being completely alone with you

once you two are in the closet he makes sure ur comfortable

he asks if ur alright while slowly inching towards you

suddenly his face is right in front of you

it's a make-or-break moment so if you give the go-ahead....

its smooch time

Sian

Shy smile

Sian trys not to take it too seriously because he knows it’s just a silly game

But the idea of kissing you is making him turn red

At first it’s really awkward because the both of you are just shyly grinning at each other

Eventually the both of you burst out laughing at how shy you are

Now that the awkwardness is gone sian steps forward and asks to kiss you.

the kiss would be so sweet and would lead to sian asking you on a date afterward

Kevin

cocky

kevin is so confident he has a smirk on his face the entire seven minutes

he flirts heavily while in the closet, trying to build the tension for a kiss

soon you won't be able to take it so you rush forward to meet him in a kiss

you two make out in the closet for longer than seven minutes but your friends know what you're doing in there and leave you to it

when Kevin breaks away from you he breathlessly asks if you want to continue somewhere else

it's up to you how that ends

Gunwoo

very shy

gunwoo is nervously giggling for the first three minutes you are in the closet with him

you'll have to come up with an icebreaker to calm him down

after that he relaxes a bit

and then gets immediately distracted by how close u are

he hesitantly leans forward to kiss you

its the softest kiss you've ever had and you can feel gunwoo's heart racing

its a movie moment where the two of you just connect

after you leave the closet, things between you will never be the same between u two

can you tell how much I love gunwoo

Leo

he is calm and collected

at least on the outside

on the inside leo is freaking out

he covers it up well tho

he makes fun of your friends for suggesting this game to make you laugh

he wants to kiss you but he's cool with just chatting with you if that’s what u want.

he just wants to be with you(he whipped ☺️)

when you bring up kissing he gets a little nervous but agrees

he gives you a short kiss but decides your first make out shouldn't be in a closet so he takes you somewhere else

On

he is dying inside

so embarrassed but he's trying not to show it

he doesn't want you to think he doesn't want to be alone with you

so he goes into the closet with you and...

awkward silence

poor boy can't think of anything to say so he shyly looks away from you

ur gonna have to do something because On has logged out

when u step forward and grab his hands his eyes snap up to yours

he finally gets the memo and leans in to kiss you

It's a little awkward and neither of you knows where to put your hands but somehow that makes it all the sweeter

On steps away and smiles at you and you two return to your friends holding hands

Zero

Zero is stoic

He’s stoic when your picked to go in the closet with him and he’s stoic when you get in

With the way he is acting ur starting to believe he doesn’t like you or is uncomfortable

Really he’s just trying to hide how much he likes you

if u look closely you’ll see a shadow of a smile on his face

Ur gonna have to be the one to propose the idea of kissing

And even then he is like “sure if u want to😐”

So u give him a little smooch

And the tough guy act falls away completely

He giggles and blushes and quietly asks for another kiss

So cute

Kairi

Kairi is SHY

Not like some of the others were shy

No Kairi is so red his face looks like it’s going to explode

He was a little nervous to even play this game

So when he gets to spend 7 minutes alone with you?

😳 oh boy

As soon as u get into the closet kairi is looking away from u and fidgeting nervously

In an attempt to soothe him you rub your hands up and down his arms and tell him not to be shy

He gets more blushy but tries to power through it

He grabs your hands and asks to give you kissy kissy 😙

You share a soft kiss and giggle about it after

Good job you now have kairi wrapped around ur finger

Kio

Dying inside part 2

He’s trying to be cool and suave for you but god he’s dying of embarrassment

Eventually he says something stupid like “come here often?”

It’s so dumb that it makes both of you laugh

You two could just end up talking for the whole 7 minutes but if u ask him to kiss u

First he’s gonna be like 🤨😧

Then he’ll give you the cutest little peck ever

And you both die laughing afterward

All around a funny experience lol

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 24 - If You Want Me... 

Masterlist; Chapter 23

Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.

Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3 

The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.

Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.

“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.

Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?

“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”

The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:

“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

Interesting.

“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.

It was probably longer. But he need not know that.

“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.

The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.

“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.

TP snorted at your comedic timing.

“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.

“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.

The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.

Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.

“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.

Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.

“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.

The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.

“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.

An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.

“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.

It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.

“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.

In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.

“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.

There is a first time for everything.

“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”

Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.

“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”

Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?

Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.

“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.

The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.

“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.

Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.

“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.

Yep, too far. Still true, however.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.

“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:

“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.

Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…

“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.

That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.

“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.

A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.

“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.

Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.

“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.

You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.

“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.

But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.

“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.

That caught his attention.

“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”

The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.

“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.

Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.

“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.

Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.

“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.

Please buy the bullshit.

“Are you?” he didn’t. Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…

“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”

It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.

“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.

As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.

“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.

As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:

“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.

“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?

“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.

“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.

You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.

“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.

“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.

That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?

“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.

Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:

“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.

“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.

“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.

MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.

“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.

*** You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.

The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.

You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:

“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”

There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.

“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.

There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.

“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.

Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.

“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.

With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.

“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.

“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.

You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.

“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”

Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.

*** Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?

The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.

“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.

You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.

“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.

“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.

Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.

“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…

“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.

You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.

“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.

She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.

“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.

That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.

“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.

There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.

“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.

There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.

“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.

You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:

“How do you know?”

There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:

“Let me tell you a story,”

You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.

“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.

“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.

Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.

“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god

You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.

“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.

That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.

“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.

You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.

“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.

Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.

“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”

Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:

“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.

It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.

“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.

It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:

“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.

One that you did not hesitate to take.

“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.

“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?

“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.

“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.

It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.

“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.

A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.

*** You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.

The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.

Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:

“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.

He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds. What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.

*** No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.

Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.

There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…

The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…

“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.

The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.

“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.

But that was not the most infuriating bit…

“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.

Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:

“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.

As expected. But it still hurt.

That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…

Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.

“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.

A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.

“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.

He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.

“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.

The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.

“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.

You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.

“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.

Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life. But you could never say that to him.

“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.

Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.

“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.

That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.

“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.

He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.

“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.

The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:

“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.  

You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.

“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.

Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:

“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.

Easy question… right?

“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.

He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.

“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.

The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.

“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”

You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:

“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.

As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.

“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.

You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:

“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”

No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…

“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.

That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.

“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.

You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.

“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.

The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.

“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.

One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.

“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.

Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.

“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.

It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.

Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.

“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.

Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.

“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.

He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.

“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.

You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.

“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.

As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.

“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.

After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:

“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.

You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:

“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.

Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…

“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.

It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.

“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.

Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.

“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.

Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.

“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.

“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.

He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:

“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.

“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.

You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.

You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…

“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.

It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:

“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.

You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.

“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.

But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.

You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Seven

This one is very nice I think you will like it. I call this the “Scott accidentally makes friends” arc.

Scott had just returned from a boring mining trip. Thankfully it wasn’t netherite duty this time. He was looking forward to sitting down after putting everything away when he looked out the window.

Martyn was perched on top of the walls, he seemed to be writing something. Scott’s interest was piqued. It was just after nightfall and cold out. He wondered what the other man was doing as he quietly opened the door of the Renchanting base. It was one in the morning when he checked the clock. There was time to spare.

The world was silent save for a chorus of crickets. It had stormed the night before and a thin blanket of snow preserved the land in tiny crystals. Scott did his best not to crunch the ice beneath his feet as he approached the ladder strung over the high walls.

Looking up, he saw that the sky was clear and brilliantly lit by the stars. A third quarter Moon hung in the air. Obfuscated by the only bank of clouds in the night sky.

He climbed.

As Scott approached the top, he wondered what he was even planning to do. He was going to talk to Martyn, then what. The whole Red Army was still walking on eggshells around him. Of course he didn’t mind. No, he wasn’t supposed to. He was a spy.

That’s what he told himself to sleep better at night.

Yes, ever since he’d started “intermingling” with the Red Army he had grown to admire their friendship. Not between himself and them so much as between each other. It was refreshing. Scott caught himself smiling along with their jokes, tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song was on the radio.

He didn’t dare laugh, or start a conversation, that would be out of line for him. Not yet. Not right now. When tensions were still so high.

Scott poked his head over the top of the wall. Ever so slightly, glancing at the deserted surroundings. He ducked down just enough so that Martyn wouldn’t be immediately aware of his presence. Still contemplating whether or not he was making a good decision.

“You know, if you’re aiming to be sneaky you should really think about investing in a hat,” Martyn’s voice shook Scott from his thoughts.

It also shook him from his perch on the ladder. He jumped in surprise and threw his hands up, conveniently forgetting about the rung he was holding onto.

“Well, this is it,” Scott’s mind said to him, at least his green life track record wasn’t too shabby.

A hand clasped around his wrist, suspending him in air with his feet braced on the ladder.

Scott stared wide eyed up at Martyn, who looked like he was contemplating letting him go. Then he pulled the other back to the ladder and sat back down.

“Uh, thank you,” Scott almost whispered. Pulling himself up onto the wall.

“Well it would be very hard to explain to Timmy,” Martyn replied.

“Jimmy,” Scott corrected, still looking at his feet.

“Timmy,” Martyn said back immediately.

Scott shut up.

“Major?,” Martyn looked over at him. Scott’s head snapped to attention.

“Jesus! Are you possessed?” He asked.

“No. I’m fine,” Scott assured. He didn’t want to admit to himself that the Hand made him nervous.

Martyn laughed at his expense, “calm yourself Major,” he clapped him on the shoulder.

Against his best interest Scott flinched a bit. Trying to laugh off his discomfort.

“What brings you out here in the middle of the night?” Martyn changed the subject.

“I- uh. I saw you up here,” Scott scooted a bit closer, swinging his legs over so that he was facing the same way as the other man. He looked over to see what Martyn was working on.

A book with plain pages was splayed across his lap, the page open was about halfway through the well loved sketchbook. The first half’s papers were crinkled and discolored from use. On the open canvas was a few disconnected sketches of figures that Scott didn’t recognize. Smudges and erase marks scattered the page.

“What’re you drawing?” Scott asked. Aiming to redo the icebreaker.

Martyn held out his art book so the other could see better, “these are just some sketches of people I used to see on TV. That’s Metal Man. I’m certain he wasn’t actually called that; but I can’t remember his real name,” he explained.

Further down the page was “Scarlet Witch,” then there was a drawing of Ren that neither of them mentioned.

Scott pointed to the last drawing, a bust of a superhero-looking man, “that one looks like you,” he observed.

“Mm, maybe a little?” Martyn replied with a bashful inflection.

“Yeah that’s totally you. He even has the little swirly thing on the chest,” Scott said. Martyn made a dismissive gesture.

“Aw come on. Like you never wanted to be a superhero,” he replied quietly.

Scott giggled. He wasn’t making fun of Martyn. It was just funny, a little, to see the Hand of the King up here doodling cartoons.

“I usually come out here to draw the sky. It’s different every night, always pretty,” Martyn flipped the page back to reveal a drawing of the night sky.

It took up two pages, landscape style, entirely pencil. The scenery even included some landmarks like the very top of Big B’s base. Scott noticed that Martyn’s fingers were covered in excess graphite from blending out the stars.

It was beautiful.

“Helps me umwind,” Martyn flipped a few pages forward to a blank spread, “you should try it,” he suggested as he put the sketchbook in the other’s lap.

Scott sat cluelessly. Staring at the page when he was handed a pencil.

“I’m no artist. Not like you are,” he tried to pass the supplies back but the other refused.

“Whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be the sky, it doesn’t have to be anything recognizable,” Martyn encouraged.

Scott nodded. He adjusted his grip on the pencil and positioned it above the page. It stayed there motionless while he thought.

Martyn had grabbed his hand on that ladder. He let him sit next to him while he was completely vulnerable, trying to get away from reality on top of the wall as long as he could. Martyn showed him pieces of his world. The world the way he saw it, the way he chose to preserve it. Remember it.

He shared it without question and now he was telling Scott to do the same. Show him a bit of his reality so he could understand.

This was a leap. Scott knew it, straight out of his comfort zone; and there would be no turning around, but something in the back of his mind screamed that he couldn’t keep hiding from people.

So a line showed up on the paper, followed by another. Scott pulled the image out of his mind and funneled it through the pencil, the foreground and then the background. A landscape that shaped itself across the whole page. There were mountains fading into blue against the skyline, he remembered, a river with a house on one of its banks.

A floating mass of land in the sky with vines hanging from the bottom, and a building on top.

Martyn didn’t say anything. It was like he wasn’t even there. Scott started drawing a figure to occupy the space. Reaching deep into his mind to see their face. Their faces. Soon instead of one person there was two, then three, then four. He drew every attribute and detail that came back to him.

Twelve people. He didn’t want to forget them.

When Scott finished he put the pencil down next to him. So Martyn knew he was done. He held the page up to study what he’d made, looking for anything he may have forgotten.

“That’s pretty cool,” Martyn complimented him.

“Really?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, I like that dude. The one with the wings,” Martyn pointed to where Scott had drawn a man gliding through the air with huge wings, holding onto his striped hat.

“I don’t remember his name,” Scott admitted. Mostly to himself.

“He had a name?” Martyn asked.

“They all did. I can barely remember their faces,” Scott replied, running his fingers over each of the people he’d drawn. An ugly feeling of guilt made a home in his chest.

“It’s a lovely picture,” Martyn said after a few seconds. He took the book from Scott and ripped a chunk of the pages out, “here,” he held them towards Scott. Including the one he’d been drawing on.

Scott was shocked that the other had desiccated his art book so quickly, but took the pages. He may as well.

“Use em’ however you like. I have plenty more,” Martyn instructed. He clapped Scott on the back again.

Scott flashed him a smile, hoping he didn’t look too much like an idiot, “Thank you,” he said.

“I have to go,” Scott jumped quickly back onto the ladder. He made it a few rungs down before pausing and returning to the top.

“Sorry for kicking you in… You know,” he apologized.

Martyn threw his head back in laughter, “thanks Major,” he replied.

“Bye,” Scott responded. He descended the ladder quickly and jogged to the exit of Dogwarts, fumbling with the doors and then trudging down the hill to make way for his flower forest.

“Remember to get a hat!” Echoed from behind him.

Scott turned around momentarily and nodded to Martyn on the wall, then continued into the trees.

[keouil]

when love floods rivers

“so you’re like,” yuuta hesitates. “ariel from little mermaid?” 1k. yuuta/inumaki. g. also on ao3.

In hindsight, there were worse ways to spend Saturday morning.

Yuuta looks past the line of kiosks gracing Takeshita, rows and rows of vendors selling trade goods and snacks. The konara trees from the alleyway racked some of its leaves down, alighting the path with amber fall leaves. Even the wind lazily lapped against their skin, cool and inviting. The sun was mildew and the air tasted like fresh spring, and any other time, he probably would’ve stayed in like he always did.

But Gojo encouraged—no, insisted—he go out and bond with the world. 

Shoko apparently made a few notes on his initial psych eval, because taking a condition test as part of your highschool entrance exam was completely normal, that he displayed anti-social tendencies and was just a little on the reclusive side. Gojo, being Gojo, wouldn’t have any of that for his second years. Very quickly he all dragged Yuuta out of the dorm room he was only just settling in, put him in with the only other boy in his class (because the talking Panda insisted despite his masc-displaying tendencies, was everything but), and shoved them out the gates of the school compound before he could even stop to ask whats happening.

And so here they were, in an icebreaker attempt disguised as a mission (Harajuku is full of curses! You boys might learn a thing or two!) with Yuuta sneaking glances at the man strolling beside him. 

“Toge, right?”

Inumaki bristled a little, clearly not expecting to be addressed so directly and quickly. He nods shyly, before facing forward again and avoiding his gaze.

He was the one Yuuta couldn’t quite place just yet: because Maki, in an attempt to even explain her, was in all sense of the word a bombshell. That encapsulated everything he knew—and would know—of the Zen’in. Panda was Panda. 

But Inumaki: he seemed himself of an entirely different calibre, not as loud and obvious the same way Maki was, or humorous and friendly like Panda. He was just.. there. 

His rumoured powers, though, had been anything but. 

Yuuta knew a thing or two about existing between planes, of dangling on edges of society that was neither there nor here: of still feeling, in one way or another, to not have been lended agency to control his own fate. It was a deeper kind of unknowing that was stripped from him entirely, and the balance of his own powers not even within his control, that had him thinking maybe this other boy would about it too. Cursed speech, he deduced, left very little to choice.

“So you’re like,” Yuuta hesitates. “Ariel from Little Mermaid?”

When Inumaki cracks a small smile at that, and turns his head a little to peer at him, and the sunlight spilled into his hair and turned ash into lilac: Yuuta feels, faintly and for the first time, here.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

Summary: Barba would never admit to being a RENT geek, but when he gets drunk and no one from the SVU squad is there to see him, he can’t resist the siren call of the karaoke stage. You would never approach a stranger at a bar, but when you hear Barba singing your favorite musical, you gather the courage to ask for a duet. 

Rafael Barba x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk. So... use your best judgement. (No smut this chapter just some intense kissing)

4,144 words

The thing about Scotch whisky is, it’s a drink meant to be sipped. A.D.A. Rafael Barba drank a Scotch every day, especially after a difficult case. One or two, mulled upon over the course of an hour. 

At over 40 percent alcohol by volume, the practical difference between Scotch, the gentleman’s drink favored by lawyers and Wall Street executives, and the tequila swigged by rednecks ripping their shirts off at a dive bar is the speed at which the beverages are consumed.

The thing about being a Scotch drinker is, you’re only ever one particularly bad day and a few extra drams carelessly tipped down the hatch away from getting well and truly shitfaced.

This would never happen to A.D.A. Barba. He had complete control of himself at all times. In the courtroom. In his manner of dress. In his speech. He won cases other prosecutors wouldn’t dare to take on, because he was meticulous. He was relentless. And he never let his guard down.

But on this particular day, nothing was going according to plan. All week, in fact, a case he was certain of had been falling apart piece by piece, slipping through his fingers, until today, a man who made Barba’s stomach sicken walked out of the courtroom a free man.

It was his fault. He got cocky. The victims subjected themselves to retraumatization just to testify on the hope of getting some kind of justice, and it was all for nothing. He let them down. He let the SVU team down. The look on Benson’s face when the foreman delivered the not guilty verdict made Barba want to crawl inside himself.

So he did what he always did on bad days, and went to his favorite bar alone to sit quietly and numb his sorrows over a glass of Macallan.

Except it wasn’t fucking quiet. This was supposed to be a subdued, sophisticated establishment that didn’t draw a big crowd. This was his bar! But for some godawful reason, the new manager had decided—unbeknownst to Barba—to try hosting karaoke night.

Karaoke!

He scowled at the colored stage lights. Glowered at the rambunctious crowds of young people. Seethed at the bad 80’s music and off-key bellowing. He dropped heavily into his usual seat at the bar and exchanged withering looks with the bartender, who slid him his usual drink without needing to be asked. What the hell was happening to his life? Barba began to wonder whether he had anything under control at all, downing the dram in one shot.

As he gasped on the fiery liquid burning down his throat, he gained determination. They were not going to take his bar from him. Not a chance. If these tourists and college kids wanted to have their revelry, they would have to do it with a grumpy old killjoy glowering at them. He ordered another round.

***

An hour and a steep tab later, and Barba was gripping the microphone with sweaty fingers, belting out One Song Glory at the top of his lungs.

He rationalized it as “better bend than break,” but the truth was, he had dreamed of becoming an actor before going to law school to please his mother. His inner theater geek was always waiting to slip out whenever he let his guard down, but since that was never, it was side he rarely indulged. Tonight, his head was spinning, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“One song to redeem this empty life. Time flies—and then no need to endure anymore!”

The wooden bar stool creaked as his weight sank back down on it, and he ordered another drink to question about his life choices. “Will I ever be remembered for anything besides my failures?” he asked the glass. He’d come this far from the poor barrio where he grew up, but every step was a fight. He couldn’t just be good, he had to be better than the privileged WASPs he was competing against. He had to be the best. Every little mistake, every lost trial, could be the end of all he had worked for.

Barba was so busy nursing his latest drink, he almost didn’t notice someone else drunkenly belting a track from RENT. Except, as his head swung up to listen, it wasn’t drunken belting at all. A woman with a low-cut blouse and tight jeans that hugged her curves was singing so seductively, staring right at him. She winked and sweetly begged him to take her out tonight.

No—he was imagining it. He was just drunk, lonely, and pathetic. She was working the crowd, making everyone feel like she was singing just to them. Maybe she was a Broadway performer to have that skill, or at least a master at flirtation. Either way, she was way out of his league. There was no chance she had singled him out.

***

So what if you didn’t know anybody, and it was dangerous to go alone? You were in Manhattan on a Friday night—you were going to go out and have a good time, dammit!

The promise of karaoke drew you into a small but packed bar, and you were a few drinks in when you heard a voice like an angel and a rock-star had a baby singing a song from your favorite musical ever. The voice belonged to a singer wearing old-man suspenders, a pink tie, and a light coating of stubble from not having shaved since morning. He was fashionable, you guessed. Dapper. But it was that expressive voice that mesmerized you. As he sang, your gut was wrenched with the emotional pain woven through each note.

You were smitten. You tried to go talk to him, but the moment the song was over he vanished into the tightly-packed crowd. It was silly. It was far too bold to approach a stranger in the big city, but the warm tipsy feeling in your gut gave you confidence to hatch a plan.

Step one: Locate him from the stage.

Step two: Impress him.

Step three: Bond over mutual love for RENT.

Step four, if you managed to get that far, was a bunch of squiggly question marks and “kiss his face?” hastily scrawled in pencil. It was a long shot, you knew that. You were way too shy, and he was far too handsome not to have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a husband. Frankly, even if he were single, he was way out of your league. But still, the nebulous step four could simply be “Have a fun night with your new karaoke buddy,” and that possibility alone made you feel like glitter was exploding inside of you.

When it was your turn to sing, you found him from your elevated vantage—he was sitting far from the stage, at the end of the bar—and tried to catch his eye. You’d been using Out Tonight as your karaoke icebreaker for years, so you’d gotten good at playing up the sexiness, tossing your hair and biting your lip. Your clumsy ass had even picked up a few dance moves to spice it up, and you gave them your booty-shaking all when you saw him look up at you.

You were glad you’d worn the jeans that made your butt look fantastic, and your sexiest, strappiest sandals (which were actually Tevas with a two-inch wedge heel, purchased from an outdoor gear store). He was watching you with fascination as you pouted the lyric, “don’t forsake me,” at him.

It sent a shiver down your spine to think he might really be looking at you that way.

The moment you got off the stage, you were bombarded by guys offering to buy you a drink, asking for your number. It was discouraging that Sexy Suspenders was not among them. Apparently your sexy routine worked, but entirely missed its intended target. Then again, a man like that probably let women come to him.

Ducking and weaving past your suitors like they were physical obstacles and not people, you reached Suspenders. The bar stool next to him was open, held by a briefcase and folded suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his hair was a little mussed. He appeared to be deep in conversation with his empty glass. You took a step forward to approach him, but an anxious constriction in your chest froze you in place.

Who do you think you are?! A gorgeous, sharp-dressed city guy will never even give you the time of day! Your mother’s nagging voice chimed in to warn you not to talk to strange men in bars when you’re out alone, in New York City, no less. You grimaced at your awesome double-dose of anxiety. He would either laugh in your face, or you were about to get murdered. Hooray!

But there was a loneliness in his demeanor that encouraged you he wouldn’t laugh, and up close, you noticed he was so short you could probably pick him up like a little baby chipmunk if things got out of hand. Ignoring how thick his forearms were, of course. But if he crushed you with those, you would die happy.

***

The next singer on stage had started screeching a rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ with ten drunk buddies, and Barba was squeezing his eyes closed to try to drown them out, so he was caught completely unaware when a tap on his shoulder startled him.

“Is this seat taken?”

His vision blurred. He had to rub his eyes and look twice to be sure he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. “Mimi!” he blurted. “From the—nice, um—no. No one’s sitting here.”

He moved his belongings to the top of the bar, and you sat on the vacated stool, quite pleased with yourself. The bartender immediately handed you a pink icy cocktail with a slice of lime, and pointed his thumb to someone at the other end of the bar who paid for it. Barba followed his gesture to a very cute guy in his twenties and felt a twinge of double-edged jealousy that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was most likely about to get up and leave him, and that the drink hadn’t been for him, because frankly, he couldn’t blame you. You did get up, but only to crane your neck to find your benefactor. When you did, you gave the world’s dorkiest thumbs up, while conspicuously putting your hand on Barba’s shoulder.

Barba’s lips spread into a smug bastard what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it smirk as he stared down his attractive rival. His head cocked to the side pleasantly. The other man’s flirtatious gaze fell into an annoyed tick. You sighed with relief as he moved away.

Turning back to Barba, you realized your hand was still on his shoulder and quickly removed it. You inhaled and said, “I heard you singing you were amazing do you want to do a duet together? Can we? I love RENT! I’ve always wanted to do Light My Candle—can we do it together?” in one breath.

Your flurried gush of words nearly knocked him off his stool—he put his hands up defensively and sat wide-eyed, nodding slowly as you went full babbling-nerd on him. You may not have been as suave as he initially thought, and oddly enough, he was okay with that. It was disarming, and your enthusiasm was infectious.

Because his instinct to distance himself from anyone he might risk forming a real emotional connection with wasn’t working at the moment, he grabbed you by the shoulders, locked his piercing eyes with yours, and emphatically answered, “Yes. We must!”

***

Having a karaoke partner is essential for Broadway musical numbers, as most of them are duets—two or more characters interacting with each other as the plot of the show advances. Light My Candle was one of your favorite songs, and snagging the mysterious suspendered singer meant you could finally perform it outside your shower.

It was a bouncy back-and-forth duet that was fun to sing, but you forgot how aggressively flirtatious it was until you had to ask him—you hadn’t even asked his name yet—if you had the best ass below 14th street, and about wax dripping between your… um, fingers. But the way he looked at you made seducing him so natural. You just had no idea if it was part of the performance, or if it was real.

When the song was over, you bounced on your toes, clinging to his arm for balance as you tripped on the stairs down from the stage, squealing, “That was so much fun!” He put his hand around your waist to steady you. It felt like it was made to be there.

His face was flushed red and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration, and he quickly agreed to another duet, though he muttered, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, “Thank god no one from the precinct is here.”

Performing together with a partner always makes you feel a connection—even if it’s just drunken karaoke. When you sang one part of a harmony and he picked up the other part, your voices became two halves of a whole. And with musicals, it’s as much about acting as it is singing. He threw so much emotional intensity into the lyrics, which gave you something to respond to, throwing it back at him in fluid conversation as your voice soared above his and dove beneath it again.

You hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, and you had a feeling he hadn’t, either.

Not that you had any way of knowing, really. You guessed it by the ease in which he embodied Roger’s stubborn refusal to open his heart, by the mournful way he lifted his drinks to his lips like he was toasting at a funeral. His expensive leather briefcase and formal attire, too, suggested a well-paid but dreadfully boring line of work, like a financial manager.

Your guess was dead-on, in truth. Barba was vigilant against dating anyone he met professionally. Even if there had been a secretary or paralegal or two he’d had chemistry with, for the sake of his career, he could not afford to conduct himself in a manner that could raise even the hint of a scandal or ethical conflict in the workplace. And anyone he met outside of the workplace… well, he didn’t. His entire life revolved around his job.

The bartender had just brought a fresh round of drinks, and your head rested on your fist, elbow on the bar. Barba was staring deeply into your soul with those pretty green eyes, trying to figure out how he managed to get you and how he could keep you.

“We should do Another Day next,” you grinned.

“Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar!” He sang in a gritty rock voice, poking at your chest accusingly while holding an air microphone with the other. You forgot to be surreptitious and blatantly checked for a wedding ring.

After Roger’s verse, you sang back Mimi’s part, seductively leaning in closer to him. “There’s only us. There’s only this...” As you leaned closer, his eyelids drooped, and his eyes darkened. “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” The smoky smooth molasses of Scotch was strong on his breath. He studied your face hazily, his eyes drawn down to the movement of your lips. There was no mistaking his attraction for a performance now. You sang softer and softer until your forehead was resting against his, your lips almost touching. Then you just breathed.

“No day but today,” he mulled the lyric and the impulsive circumstances that had led him to being with you in that moment. “I should follow that advice more often.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you murmured. “Here I am in the city, having fun,” your voice slowed to a crawl as your eyes flicked up and down his face, “...with a perfect, handsome stranger...”

His tongue ran over his lower lip again as his eyes dropped to your mouth and clouded over with some sultry thought.

You’re not sure which one of you moved first, but in the next moment his lips were melting into yours, desperate and passionate. That tempting tongue of his ran along your lower lip now, sliding easily inside as your mouth parted to invite him within, swirling in heated wet circles around yours. It was heavy with the taste of Scotch and the faint bitterness of coffee, as if that were all he’d eaten that day. You curled your fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and his broad arms closed around your back and pulled you off your bar stool onto his lap.

His skin was burning hot, and waves of heat coursed up through your body like you were both on fire. Your pulse thundered in your ears until it drowned out the off-key music, and each pounding heartbeat sent a corresponding throb to your cunt. Your eyes closed. All that existed was the messy clashing of your teeth and tongues, the woody-sweet scent of his cologne filling your lungs, the heat of his strong hands on your back, and the bulge of his cock twitching beneath you.

When you finally had to come up for air, and hopped back onto your own bar stool, suddenly self-conscious of how pornographic that nearly was, all he had to say was, “I’ve never done that before.”

You blinked. “You’ve never… kissed someone?”

“Not someone I just met in a bar!” his eyebrows shot up and he sounded so utterly scandalized, your euphoric high from kissing him came crashing down. He saw you as some kind of cheap tramp for kissing him. Pretentious asshole. Suddenly you felt like shit.

You turned your attention to the second round of that fruity cocktail that random guy paid for. It turned out to be a pretty tasty drink, so you ordered another. Maybe you should have given that guy a chance.

“So, are you here by yourself?” Barba asked your profile, not bothering to hide the patronizing concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said without looking up.

“Jesus. I thought so. That’s really dangerous, you know.”

“Ugh,” you groaned and pivoted away from him further, leaving him confused. So first he implied you’re a slut, and now he was pulling the whole, the city is full of predators, but I’m a Nice Guy—let me walk you home routine. This is what you get for picking a guy based on how good he sings.

“I did not mean to imply that. I only meant that I’m usually more... careful.” Oh. You must have said all of that out loud. Oops. “But you’re right to be suspicious of my intentions. There are… all kinds”— he breathed the word out in a jaded huff—“of tactics predators will use. Manipulations, brute force, drugs, fake personas… And all they have to do is claim consent and half the time the jury believes it even if the physical evidence is horrifying.” He was getting visibly angry thinking about it, his drink dangerously close to spilling as he clenched his fist around it.

You stared at him. “Um.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m an A.D.A. for Manhattan. Prosecutor. I’m a lawyer,” he clarified when the acronym earned no look of recognition in your eyes. “Lately I’ve been working with the Special Victims Unit, so when I see someone drinking alone late at night, talking to complete strangers,” he gestured at himself. “You have no idea how many sexual assault cases start with this exact scenario.”

“Big-shot lawyer, huh? Sure, now pull the other one.”

“What?” His head cocked at you in utter bewilderment.

“Pull the other… leg. You’re pulling my leg?”

“I know what it means, I’ve just never heard it said by anyone under sixty. Are you secretly an old man?”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re an old man,” you retorted childishly.

His lips folded in on themselves as he tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know. What can you tell me about the Model T?”

You took a grumpy swig of the fruity strawberry cocktail.

“What was World War II like?”

“So are you really a lawyer, or do you just use that line to pick up chicks?”

“I am, I am!” he laughed. “I can prove it. Let’s see...” he pulled out his phone, brought up a search result for his name, and scrolled through headlines. “DA’s Office Helps NYPD Persecute Immigrant Families,” “Justice at Last for Serial Rapist Victims,” and others rolled across the screen. He narrowed his eyes as his index finger hovered over each one. “Oh, sounds like I’m an idiot in this one,” his mouth twitched into a sardonic smirk, “and I’m a real asshole here… Oh, look, here’s one where I’m the big hero.” He held out his phone so you could see the photo of him in another flashy suit and bold tie, speaking to crowd of reporters in front of the courtroom steps. He looked so sexy in his full three piece suit, and much more severe, his face hard and intelligent. The caption below it praised his victory putting away a notorious rapist, and identified him A.D.A. Rafael Barba.

“Wow. That is you. Who knew I was doing karaoke with such an important guy?” You slung your arm around his shoulders, which were irresponsibly broad and solid. God, being with him felt so right. Casual touches were so comfortable even though you’d just met, and the way he responded, melting under you, sent a wave of heat through your lower back.

He kept flipping through headlines, his brow quirking a little at one, eyes narrowing at the next. Then he saw one that made him stop scrolling. He put the phone down on the bar and scrubbed his hand over his face and hair, blinking back tears suddenly forming. You caught the glowing screen before it automatically locked. The headline was from today. “Local Teacher Found Not Guilty—.”

His head dropped into his arms on the bar. “It was my fault. If I had done something different, been more prepared...” A sad groan emitted from the Barba puddle.

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” you soothed, and rubbed his back sympathetically. “So one guy got acquitted. It happens every day.”

“I know,” he growled. This fact was the opposite of comforting.

“You’re sure he was guilty?”

“He did it. To at least a dozen kids over the last two decades, but no one wanted to testify, or the statute of limitations was up, and then our key witness… There must have been something I could have done, something I didn’t think of. I let him get away with it.” His shoulders heaved as he sobbed into his arms. “I fucked up.”

You kept rubbing circles over his back, whispering soothing words to him. You leaned down and peppered his head with soft kisses. He shifted off the top of the bar and began crying into your chest, his arms wrapping around you like a baby lemur. You held him tight, suddenly understanding that this was the memory he came here to drown. This was why all night you had caught him looking wistful every time the conversation lulled. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s alright. Shh.”

His arms tightened around your waist, then relaxed, tension melting from his body. “This is nice,” he sighed into your shirt, enjoying being snugly pressed against you, surrounded by warmth. “Thank you… this is nice.” He never let anyone comfort him like this. Never let his need for comfort show under his stoic exterior. If his judgment were functioning properly, it would have struck him as a red flag how easily he sought comfort from a stranger that he wouldn’t have accepted from his closest friends, but it felt good to let it out.

Eventually, he remembered his dignity and sat up, drying his eyes on his sleeve and glancing regretfully at the wet splotch he’d made in your shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. He picked up his latest glass of scotch, and swirled its half-empty amber contents before setting it down again. It was possible he had drunk enough.

“It’s OK. You had a bad day.”

His lips tightened at the corners in agreement. “Usually Liv is the only one who tries to cheer me up. So, thanks for…” He closed his eyes and tilted his head. “You’re very nice.”

Your chest fluttered. He was terribly cute, and far too vulnerable for you to be having these lascivious feelings about him.

[a-dorin]

ardor | darth maul

word count: 3.135k

warnings: age gap, cursing, professor/student relationship, sexual tension, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos

a/n: hello everyone! so this is the surprise i listed on my upcoming works list! i was just so excited to post this that i have been working on it constantly! this is a modern au involving professor!maul, set in coruscant. the reader is 21 in this fic. let me know if you want this to become a series or be added to the tag list! i hope you all enjoy :))

summary: as a junior enrolled at university of coruscant, you are striving to complete a minor in psychology. however, one class in particular intrigues you. will you be able to focus or let lust consume you? 

pushing open the massive wooden doors, you grimaced at the vast amount of students already crammed in the seats. glancing at your phone, the time read 9:46 a.m. letting out a quiet sigh, you were fourteen minutes early and the lecture hall was almost to capacity. all of the seats on the edges were filled, and you grumbled under your breath. those damn freshman. always so early. 

scanning the space, your eyes fell on an empty seat, near the front of the hall. strolling down the steps, you mumbled apologies as you shimmied into the empty seat, almost collapsing into the chair. rummaging in your bag, you fish out your laptop, powering it on. 

once it’s whirred to life, you pull up your notes application, ensuring that you’re ready to take notes for the first lecture. the moment you were all set up, you ran a hand through your hair, noticing the togruta sitting to the right, as well as a mirialan to your left. 

“w-was this seat reserved for someone?” you stammered, a blush spreading through your cheeks. 

the togruta shook her head, “not at all! you see, that mirialan, she’s my best friend. we can’t sit by one another in class because we don’t pay attention. the seat is empty, we just wanted some space between each other.”

“oh okay,” you mumbled, relief rippling through you, “i wasn’t aware that everyone was going to be so early.”

“that’s freshman for ya,” the mirialan nudged you, giggling, “we just got here and the hall was practically full!” 

“don’t scare our new friend off!” the togruta huffed, her bright blue eyes shining with amusement, “i’m ahsoka tano.”

ahsoka tano was a gorgeous creature, a descendant of the togruta species. her complexion was an orange hue, her head tails striped navy and white, with two montrals poking out. her face was wise, as if she had matured at a young age. the white markings on her forehead were breathtaking, trailing down onto her cheeks. ahsoka’s eyes were a bright, crystalline blue, shining with warmth and kindness. 

you enjoyed that aspect about her already, as she was so friendly. she wore a plain navy blue tank top, which complemented her head tails, while donning a pair of grey joggers. her knee bounced, a fresh white pair of nike air maxes on her feet. you noticed the university logo stitched below a pocket, the curiosity within you rising by the second. 

“do you play any sports?” you arched a brow, “i couldn’t help but notice the logo on your joggers.”

ahsoka’s eyes drifted towards the pocket, “oh yeah! i’m on the saber team.”

“you wield lightsabers?” a gasped tumbled from your lips, “that’s awesome!”

a blush spread through ahsoka’s cheeks, dusting them a light pink, “thank you, it took many years of practice and dedication. i was offered a full ride to come here, so i transferred here from theed university second semester my freshman year.”

“rumor has it that ahsoka’s undefeated,” the mirialan chirped, “good morning, i’m barriss offee.”

barriss was almost the opposite of ashoka, clad in a floral sundress, the pattern burstings with greens, yellows, and purples. it suited her light green complexion, along with her rich blue eyes. her eyes were darker than ahsoka’s, glimmering with intrigue as she gazed you. black diamonds stretched across the bridge of her nose, her lips coated with a black lipstick. tights covered her legs, a chunky pair of doc martens on her feet. a hijab wrapped around her head, the material an inky black silk. barriss was gorgeous, her aura radiating  nothing but intelligence and compassion. 

“well i’m (y/n) (y/l/n),” you couldn’t help but smile, “i’m a junior.”

you couldn’t help but feel an attraction towards the two girls, as if you were meant to find to them, to be their friends. already, the three of you were off to a great start. you were looking forward to spending the rest of class with them for the semester, even if you just met. 

“what’s your major?” ahsoka inquired, “i’m a sophomore, looking to pursue an education major. i’m not quite sure what aspect of education, but i love kids.”

“that’s really cool!” you gushed, “how about you, barriss?”

“i’m a sophomore as well,” her tone was smooth, “i am looking to major somewhere in political science.” 

“i’m going to major in health sciences,” you remarked, “but i plan on minoring in psych. i needed this class for a prerequisite for next semester. which is weird considering the course title, but i feel like it’ll be an interesting class.”

“i agree-” ahsoka began, but was cut off the sound of the door slamming. 

the murmur of your fellow classmates fell as the professor entered the room, an aura of concentration settling over the lecture hall in a thick haze. you clicked on the mousepad of your laptop, ensuring that you were prepared for any note taking. absentmindedly, you typed in the date, as well as a title for the note section: first day of class. 

“good morning class,” the professor rumbled, his voice clear as it rang through the space, “i am aware that this is a three hundred level course and we have a limited number of weeks to get through course material, but today there will be no lesson.”

“so much for opening my laptop,” you grumbled, earning a hushed giggle from ahsoka and barriss.

“today will be an overview of the syllabus, as well as some icebreakers,” the professor continued, a unanimous groan erupting from the class. the professor chuckled, “i know, we all hate standing up and stating five fun facts about ourselves. but, it helps me remember names. after all, there are about one hundred and fifty of you.”

your eyes drifted up from your laptop screen as you shut it, widening with shock as they fell on him. 

your professor was a descent of the zabraki species, his ivory horns protruding from his skull. his face was absolutely gorgeous, jet black tattoos weaving an intricate pattern over his crimson skin. his jawline was strong, his incisors flashing as a wide smile enveloped his features. he was similar to barriss, an aura of wisdom and intelligence shrouding over him. if you had to guess, he was somewhat young, in his mid thirties or so. nonetheless, he had you in a daze, eagerly eating up every word that fell from his mouth. 

the zabrak was clad in a black turtleneck, paired with a tweed jacket. the jacket was a beige hue, dark, chocolate brown slacks as his choice of pants. a thin silver chain hung around his neck, lying on his chest as he spoke. in the light, you caught a glimpse of a silver stud, pierced on the upper cartilage of his ear. 

“gods, he’s hot,” you muttered, almost speechless.

“you can’t say that about our professor,” ahsoka teased under her breath, “he’s probably older than we think.”

“but he’s so attractive,” you breathed. 

“we need to pay attention,” barriss hissed. 

“shall i start with a brief introduction of myself, or should i begin with some review of the syllabus?” your professor placed his hands on hips, awaiting the class’ response.

“icebreakers!”

“i hate syllabus days!”

“the more time we take away from class, the better!”

the zabrak placed his hands out, chuckling, “all right, all right. the class has spoken. well, to start, i am professor maul. you can refer to me as professor or maul. my home resides in the psychology department, and i do find myself dabbling in philosophy or theology from time to time. i have two brothers. savage, the eldest is a geology professor here at university of coruscant, while feral, the youngest is a pastry chef deep in the city. perhaps if you guys are good, i can bring in his pastries sometime. if you have any questions for me, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

ahsoka’s hand shot up instantly, and professor maul nodded towards her, “yes, the togruta in the front.”

“how old are you sir?” her voice surged with confidence.

professor maul’s eyes narrowed playfully, “is that any question to ask a professor? since you were so bold, i will answer. i am thirty-one, nearing thirty-two by the second.”

“you’re old!” a voice called out.

“perhaps,” another chuckled tumbled from the professor’s lips, “i won’t hesitate to kick your ass in saber duel, though.”

“you were a saber wielder?” a classmate to below you, a twi’lek, blurted out. 

“i was,” he responded curtly, “although i teach here, i am not an alumni. i attended mustafar central on a lightsaber scholarship many years ago. however, i didn’t go pro, i took the graduate school path. enough about me, let’s me hear about you guys. i would like your name, your intended major or career path, along with a brief fun fact about yourself. don’t think about it too hard, we don’t have too much time.”

with every word professor maul spoke, you found yourself hanging onto every single word. there was something about him, the way he spoke so eloquently, or the way his amber eyes glowed with authority, that sent butterflies flurrying in your stomach. he stood proud, his arms folded across his chest as your classmates introduced themselves. you swallowed thickly as you realized you were staring a little too long, a blush spreading through your cheeks as his eyes fell on you. 

“it appears as if it’s your turn to introduce yourself,” his voice was so smooth, like honey, “how about you tell the class a little bit about yourself?”

you rose to your feet, anxiety swelling within you. clearing your throat, you began your spiel, “u-um, hello everyone. i am (y/n) (y/l/n). my major is health sciences, and i am unsure of the career path i want to take after i graduate. i guess a fun fact about myself is that i will be wrapping up my psychology major by the end of this year.”

intrigue flashed in the zabrak’s eyes momentarily, “ah, well, it is a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). never hesitate to reach out to me this year if you have any questions. who’s next?”

ahsoka stood from her chair beginning to speak. however, you couldn’t but notice his eyes on you, his lips pursed, a wistful daze painted across his face. you swallowed thickly, biting your lip, desperate to avoid his gaze. your cheeks burned, hot to the touch. gods, it was only the first day and you were already crushing your professor. a professor who was a decade older than you, nonetheless. 

the class was an hour and twenty minutes long, the time eleven o’clock by the time everyone introduced each other. once the last person finished, professor maul strolled up to the rows of seating, a thick stack of papers in his grasp, “please, pass this around, and ensure that everyone gets a copy. this packet is your life for the next fifteen weeks! do not lose it!”

as the packets were passed around, the sound of paper rustling echoed through the lecture hall. drawing in a sigh, you mumbled a thank you to barriss as she handed you the syllabus. once it was in your hands, you scanned over the text, glancing over it hastily. 

psych 315: monsters in modern society. the title of the course jumped out at you, a feeling of dread washing over you, threatening to steer your attention away from the syllabus. 

how were you supposed to pay attention to lectures in class when you could barely keep your eyes off the professor? 

****

“how was your first day of classes?” a familiar voice called into the den of your apartment. 

“rex!” you gushed, sprinting into the den.

the blonde couldn’t help but grin as you wrapped your arms around him, “good evening to you too.”

“classes were boring,” you groaned, burying your head into his chest, “they’re not the same without my best friend.”

“my classes were just about the same,” rex chuckled softly, “what’d you make me for dinner?”

“there’s some spaghetti in the fridge,” you responded, still latched onto the blonde, “the garlic bread is in the oven, keeping warm.”

“perfect,” he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, “practice was horrible.”

you detached yourself from rex, arching a brow, “yeah?”

“i’ll tell you about it later,” he exhaled, “i need to cool off for a bit, shower, and eat.”

“if you say so,” you shrugged, “hey, i’m going to go to the gym for a while. i should be back by the time you’re working on homework.”

rex rolled his eyes, “if film counts as homework, sure.”

“just text me if you need anything,” you slung your gym bag over your shoulder. 

“will do!” rex shouted as you opened the door, closing it. 

rex was your best friend, a kind and pure soul. the two of you met your freshman year, during the first week orientation for all incoming newbies. since you were far from home, you were anxious, unsure if you were going to meet any new friends or establish connections. one night, while you ate alone in the dining hall, a platinum blonde approached you, asking if you had any company. from there, the rest was history.

the two of you were almost inseparable. since you had known rex for a couple years, it only made sense that the two of you shared an apartment your junior year. besides, your schedules didn’t clash too much, as rex was on an athletic scholarship with the university’s rugby team. meanwhile, you were involved with a few clubs here and there, preparing for an internship with the hospital on campus. 

although you were in the pursuit of a health sciences major, you were unsure of which area you wanted to concentrate on. there were a variety options: dietitians, nutrition, nursing, radiology, athletic training, physical therapy, and so many more. however, you were set on graduating with a minor in psychology. which, you were on the right track. after your junior year, you would have that minor. 

the internship with the hospital was to dip your feet into uncharted waters, where you would experience a little bit of everything. you would be a receptionist for a variety of departments, switching offices every month. the internship began within the week, and the excitement within you was growing by the day. 

pushing open the doors to the recreational center, you chirped a greeting to the student employee at the desk, requesting a bottle of water. strolling towards the elevator, you pushed the button, aching to relieve the pent up stress. 

it wasn’t like your first day of classes were horrible, you just knew you had a tumultuous year ahead of you. with eighteen credit hours, along with the internship, you were unsure how you were going to tackle it all. yet, you knew that you could manage it. you just had to trust yourself and go with the flow. everything happens for a reason was the mantra for the year. 

as the doors slid open, you strolled towards the weight room, where all of the racks and machinery were located. since it was about nine o’clock, the rec center was shying closer to close, students making their way towards the elevator. you noticed ahsoka in the fieldhouse, practicing combat techniques with her team, the hum of lightsabers echoing off the walls. 

however, as your hands rested on the handle of the door, your breath hitched in your throat. through the glass, you noticed a familiar face at the punching bags. 

there stood professor maul, clobbering the bag with jabs and punches, his breathing ragged, coming out in light pants. curses rolled off his tongue, in a language you couldn’t quite decipher. 

carefully, you slipped into the weight room, careful to avoid making any sort of interaction with the zabrak. after all, this was a facility meant for the students, faculty, and employees. it was for anyone’s use, but the fact that he was there, in the same space with you, had your heart thudding against your rib-cage, your mind buzzing. 

sweat trickled down his skull, his back glittering in the light. with every single jab, his muscles rippled. scars plastered his shoulders and back, some deep, some faint. hesitantly, you clambered onto an elliptical, every fiber in your being screaming at you to look away. to stop staring. to stop admiring. 

the zabrak paused, scooping his water bottle off the floor. as he chugged the water, you nearly choked as water dripped from his lips onto his neck, down his tattooed chest. not only was his face tattooed, but the ink was all over his beautiful body, weaving geometric patterns. 

your cheeks reddened as you noticed the pair of black joggers hanging loosely on his hips, exposing his v-line. filthy, nasty, thoughts filled your mind, and you desperately shook them away. he was your professor. you weren’t supposed to see him like this.  

“fancy seeing you here,” his voice was low, raspy, “isn’t it almost closing time?”

“i still have about an hour,” you mumbled, your cheeks burning, “i wasn’t aware that professors actually used this facility.”

“you’ve got some fire in you,” he chuckled, slipping on a plain black v-neck, “your name is (y/n), isn’t it? you’re in my level three hundred class.” 

the sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, “u-uh, yes. and you’re professor-”

“you can call me maul,” a smirk crept onto his lips, “no need for the formalities here.”

“okay,” you mumbled, flustered by his banter, “i didn’t know you were a boxer.”

his eyes flickered over you, maul licking his lips as you sat on the machine, your thighs full, “i am. it keeps me in shape. as much as i would love to stay and chat, my brother is finished with his work for the night. i have to go meet up with him.”

“you two carpool?” you felt a giggle bubble up. 

“unfortunately,” maul scoffed, rolling his eyes, “i have been having some car issues lately. hopefully i’ll be able to drive myself soon.”

“well goodnight,” you beamed, “i hope that your night isn’t too horrid.”

“if i have to hear one more word about geology, i just might throw myself out the car,” maul chuckled, his eyes shining, “goodnight (y/n).”

“goodnight maul,” your voice was low, the words almost a whisper.

the zabrak strolled towards the door, pulling it open. however, he paused, turning to face you, amusement glittering in his amber depths, a playful grin stretched across his features. 

“by the way (y/n), you could be a little more subtle about your wandering eyes.”

***********************

tagged: @sapphicstars , @maulieber , @starflyer-104 , @alwayshappysith​ , @doobiwankenooku​

[coliverxxx]

Titanic - Johnny/OC story

Summary: Johnny has never worked with someone who has said two pick-up lines on him in thirty minutes after they met him while working until her.

Pairings: Johnny x OC or Johnny x Reader or Johnny x She (whoever she is, really)

Genre: Friendship, Romance

Words: 5,876

Warnings: None, hopefully

A/N: First of all, the story has nothing to do with the infamous movie. It's just that I suck with titles. I wouldn't also call this angst but to anyone who's lighthearted, there is a bit of angst in here, okay? But I promise, things will be okay.

I was supposed to write 500 words yesterday because I just can't get over Johnny's long blonde hair. It does things to me. (I still haven't gotten over it.) But stories tend to write themselves and before I knew it, I have little less than 6,000 words all because of Johnny's long blonde hair. It's strange what inspirations can do. Initially, I wanted to convert this into a ship fic but then, I thought it's good as it is. At least for me, haha. (Might still do in the future though.)

Let's keep supporting NCT. Let's keep loving Johnny (I have this awful feeling that he deserves more love than he's getting I don't know) and the rest of the group. They received their first daesang recently, too. Congratulations, boys!

Titanic - Johnny/OC story

Johnny has never worked with her. It’s not to say that he’s bothered by her — he’s met people who are most troublesome, to say the least — but he has never worked with someone who is so obvious in their interest on him. He gets it. Not to be a dick but he knows he’s got good looks and a to-die-for body but no one in his professional years has said two pick-up lines on him in thirty minutes after they met him while working.

He arrives at the station with the other members that morning. Only a little after six which means it’s too early for him to be thinking too much about anything besides getting his makeup done for today’s performance. That’s why he’s more than surprised when the person putting foundation on his face says, “Titanic.”

He’s not sure if he’s being talked to because he’s pretty certain there’s this rule among the members and the staff that no talking is allowed before eight but when he looks at the makeup artist, she is looking back at him in all seriousness and Johnny just mutters “What?” even though he knows he heard her say ‘Titanic.’

“Sorry, bad icebreaker,” she solemnly says and continues on the foundation like nothing happened.

Johnny stares at her in the mirror because he can’t move while things are being put on his face. Then, he thinks about what she just said and oh.

Oh.

He laughs. Like loudly. Like something that shouldn’t be done when everyone is either on a state of half awake-half asleep, or entirely sleep walking through the morning.

He ignores the sharp glances from the other members and looks at her through the mirror again to see her looking back at him already with a grin playing on her face.

Johnny thinks none of that exchange. It’s still funny whenever he remembers it and when he tries explaining it to the other members when they asked him what’s so funny he had to drag their souls from sleep state forcibly but he thinks there’s nothing to do about it. Just a new makeup artist who is a little funny too early in the morning.

Then, he’s changing his clothes and there should be someone helping him but when he looks around, all the stylists are busy with the other members. He tries to look for someone and sees one of the staff just fixing their massive makeup boxes.

“Hello,” Johnny says. He just needs to know where the jacket he is supposed to be wearing is. The sleeveless top he is wearing isn’t exactly making him uncomfortable given that he’s been on stage with practically nothing but it’s winter and it’s cold. He’s human.

He immediately recognises her when she turns around and is about to apologise because even though he is desperate to find that jacket, he knows she’s a makeup artist. Not a stylist. He knows the line. He’s about to say so when she says, “Your name must be Adele.”

“What?”

“Because you had me at hello.’”

Johnny can’t help the smile that’s creeping on his lips that turns into a light chuckle until he is effectively laughing again. At barely seven in the morning. He shakes his head at her a little and proceeds to his original dialogue, “I was going to ask for my jacket but I don’t think you —“

“Here,” she answers, handing him out his jacket.

“Oh, great, thanks,” he says, a little surprised, immediately putting on the jacket with a light shiver. “Are you new here?”

“I only started today, yes,” she tells him.

“By the way, my name is not Adele. It’s Johnny,” he states with a smile.

He waits for her to respond but she just stares at him — you know, that stare that’s like stripping him without touching him — and for someone who he just met today, it’s a little awkward. He’s about to tell her that when she speaks.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

Johnny can’t stop another smile, the initial awkwardness leaving him entirely, even though he answers, “Definitely just the sun.” He begins to walk away while shaking his head again at the exchange to change his shoes, murmuring, “That’s three strikes.”

He’s not bothered about it. It will take a whole lot more to bother him at this point of his career than harmless pick-up lines from their new makeup artist who does a pretty good job on their faces, by the way, and does nothing more than make Johnny smile or laugh whenever she tries another line on him.

They are pretty close with the rest of the staff, all of their managers, the stylists, and the other makeup artists, but she and Johnny had become quite of a duo. She never fails on a line on him whenever he is on at least five meters radius from her and it has become quite normal for everyone around them to heat her say something like “Are you my appendix? I don’t know what you do or how you work but I feel like I should take you out.” to Johnny.

He is not one to get flustered merely because of such lines. He will admit he likes hearing them though because some of her lines are funny, even weird. He would always laugh whenever she pulls a weird pick-up line on him.

“Did you just fart? Because you blow me away.”

Johnny’s laugh can literally be heard in the entire station.

“Do your lines ever work in real life?”

She looks a little confused before replying, “Who says this isn’t real?”

“Right,” Johnny says, shaking his head again but smiling.

He becomes quite used to her lines and her presence, looking forward to what cheesy or weird pick-up lines she picks for the day, that it’s stranger when she’s focused — too focused — on how she puts eyeshadow in Johnny’s eyes that she’s not speaking a word.

Johnny doesn’t know what to say though. Does he ask her why she’s not saying any lines on him like she used to before? Does that mean he’s looking forward to her lines now? Will that be appropriate between an idol and a makeup artist?

His makeup is finished before he can put an answer to any of his questions and she moves on to the next member in line, not saying a single word to Johnny. Much more a single pick-up line. Who knows pick-up lines can be missed?

The silence continues until the end of the schedule and he just can’t go home without saying anything to her.

He corners her on one of the changing room when she’s helping out the stylists clean after the stage costumes. It’s probably unfitting but Johnny just wants to ask, “Are you okay?”

Her expression looks depressed in a moment before it turns surprised until she’s finally smiling even though just barely. He still considers it a win when she answers, “I’m okay, Seo. Do you need anything?”

Johnny stares at her for a second before he answers. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Just give me your phone,” he demands, looking behind him because one of the managers are already calling everyone to pile out. They’re leaving ahead of the staff; they always do.

Even though she’s confused, she pulls her phone in her pocket and hands it to Johnny. She watches him warily as he fiddles with it for a minute before returning it to her.

“That’s my number,” Johnny states, as if it isn’t clear enough on the new contact saved on her phone. “If there’s anything that’s bothering you,” he continues, looking away because he has not rehearsed this part of the conversation. He only wants to ask if she’s okay. This isn’t planned at all. But now he has one of their makeup artists have his number. If that’s improper, it’s already done. “If you need someone to talk to, you can call me or message me, whatever suits you.”

She looks at the new contact saved on her phone: seo johnny. Then, she glances up at the said person in front of her who is looking at anything but her. She clutches her phone to her chest and slowly nods. “Okay,” she whispers, looking down at the floor with rosy cheeks.

Johnny turns around because they’re leaving. He hasn’t took five steps when his phone rings. It’s an unregistered number but he answers it anyway, having a good feeling about it.

He hasn’t said hello yet when he hears a familiar voice on the other end of the line and on the person standing five steps behind him.

“I have 1% battery remaining. I chose to call you. Did I choose wisely?”

Johnny turns around and meets her eyes. “I’m literally still here,” he says with a fond smile.

She smiles back. Then, her eyebrows knit together a little again and she sighs, “I’m fine, or I’ll be fine.” She chuckles at herself, looking at Johnny’s eyes again. “Whichever,” she continues, “but the bottomline is I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

He still looks concerned but nods anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

She bits her lip before smiling again. “See you tomorrow, Johnny.”

They are just leaving the building when his phone buzzes with a new message.

12:39 pm to: seo johnny from: xxxxx aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living? >///<

Johnny has to stop for a moment to refocus his thoughts because he can’t be laughing by himself after receiving a one-line message in public. But the moment he glances at his phone to read it again, his shoulder begin to shake anyway.

7:27 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx help, i’m lost!

7:27 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx where are you?

7:28 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx i don’t know but can you give me directions to your heart? :)))

7:29 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx i thought you are really lost!!! -_-

He says that but he’s smiling a lot for someone who wakes up before five in the morning. He looks outside of the car — there’s still no horrible traffic and the sun is barely peaking out — and instead of sleeping like he always does, he thinks of how many minutes more before he sees her as he types another message to send her.

Johnny finds in her a comfortable friendship. And in a job that is as stressful as the one he has, having a friend nearby — someone that isn’t one of his members who also share the exact same stress as him and thus he can’t bother at times — who makes him laugh and smile and feel good all the time is heaven’s gift.

“On a scale of 1 to America, how free are you tonight?” she asks, appearing beside Johnny, when the group arrives at the set of that day’s first schedule.

He smiles and answers. “I think 0. But you know that, don’t you? You guys’ll be with us until the evening for tonight’s show, right?”

She looks at him for a moment and nods with a long sigh, “Yeah, today’s packed.” Then, she pulls out some utensils behind her and continues, “That’s why I prepared food. I’ve got all these chopsticks, forks, and knives. All I need is a little spoon.”

Johnny barely stifles a chuckle. And before his mind can process his action, his hand is already on top of her head. It’s such a gentle gesture but not one that happened to them before now. So he can understand if she flinches a little when he reaches his hand to her hair but she does not. She holds her beaming smile as she pats her head.

One pat. Two pats.

He pulls back quickly when he realises he’s probably acting unprofessional again. Even though he probably should have thought about that, too, when he gives her his number.

An entire day of schedule with her around means more than twenty pick-up lines in just half of the day. She always seems to have one around whenever Johnny is in the same breathing vicinity as her.

“Can I follow you home? Because my parents always tell me to follow my dreams,” she says to Johnny when they’re packing up from their first schedule to go to the next.

“We’re not going home yet though,” Johnny replies, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Is your dad a terrorist?” she asks after she’s done with Johnny’s makeup retouch on the second schedule. “‘Cause you’re the bomb.”

Johnny isn’t one to be embarrassed or to shy away from compliments, as weird as they come, but he’s learning to because of her pick-up lines. Even the other members are beginning to tease him about it, repeating what they heard her say to him at home. The worse thing is he’s not bothered by them at all. Not her lines. Not even when his members repeat it on him to tease him. He actually feels good about it. He thinks there must be something wrong with him.

He hears Jaehyun snickering with Yuta when they heard what she said, too.

The last schedule is just wrapping up. It’s a photoshoot for a cosmetic brand. Johnny already finished his part and is just waiting for the other members. He notices her standing beside him a few minutes ago, waiting for another pick-up line, but she hasn’t said a word.

He glances at her after a moment but she’s already looking at him.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes. I can’t take them off you.”

Johnny doesn’t know if it’s the light or the music that they’re playing on the set but the air is different that night, that time, that moment. When she says that, he thinks he can hear his heart thumping loudly, threatening to jump out of his chest. He has to force a laugh because he’s afraid she will hear how loud his heart is.

She doesn’t look away, not even when he laughs at her because he doesn’t know what to say. And Johnny can’t look away because she’s looking at him like she’s saying not just a pick-up line but what she truly thinks.

After what seems to be twenty-seven years of gazing at each other even though in reality, it’s only a minute at most, someone yells “Cut!” Every light opens and Johnny blinks, looking around them like he’s been caught doing something illegal, or improper. He lets out a deep breath he doesn’t know he’s holding and looks back at her.

She’s still looking at him. Then, she smiles at him for a moment before she turns to the members who just finished their shot, bowing at the photographers and director. “I’ll help them pack up,” she tells him, looking at him again.

“Oh, okay,” Johnny says, nodding.

But she doesn’t leave yet. She stands there for a second and says, “They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well, apparently, no one has ever been standing next to you.”

The lights have been changed and the music has already been shut. That’s why Johnny can’t understand what’s still different that he needs to remind himself to breathe after she walks away, leaving him there with a catapulting heart.

Those are still the same pick-up lines, aren’t they?

He has always been worried about Doyoung’s perceptive ability and his inability to keep his observations to himself but he doesn’t think he’ll receive the short stick of it until he does.

He can’t quite remember how the conversation begins — like most things that happen in our life that we want to forget. It just happens uncontrollably and goes out of hand in a split second. He just remembers talking to the other members until the conversation begins to get redirected, or misdirected to Johnny’s friendship with her.

“I think she likes you,” Doyoung states, yes, states, because there is no hesitation in his tone over what he is saying, “and you like her back.”

“What?” Johnny laughs, trying to keep his nerves in tact. “We’re just friends.”

“Really?” Doyoung raises a brow at him and even when he says that, it doesn’t sound like he’s confirming his thoughts but that he wants Johnny to confirm his.

He looks at the other members and sees them all waiting for his answer, expecting his answer. Then, before he can think it further, he laughs again and replies, “Really. As if I would date a makeup artist.”

Johnny expects arguments because even he wants to hit himself after he says that. He doesn’t know why he said that. There’s definitely nothing wrong if he falls in love with a bus driver, a bartender, or a makeup artist. He knows that but he’s nervous as hell because he thinks he’s going to get found out over something he’s not quite ready to admit to himself.

It’s been a lingering question ever since that time he feared his heart will escape from his chest. Does he really like her like that? Does he really like her as more than a friend? His makeup artist? Is that even appropriate?

But then, he hears nothing and as he searches for anything from the faces of the other members, he realises they are not looking at him but behind him.

Johnny turns to look behind him on the exact moment she’s turning around. He wishes he looked back a second later so he could have missed the way her eyes looks.

Hurt is an understatement.

Awkwardness is also putting is simply. Everyone has become used to their dynamics and when it suddenly stops, it’s like there’s something missing in the air. There are no corny or sweet or weird pick-up lines being said here and there. Johnny’s not laughing every time something is said to him, no matter if it’s honestly romantic or strange.

There are no messages like: Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.

He thinks he misses the pick-up lines but he knows he misses her. Just her. Not the lines but the way her hand ghosts over his face carefully whenever he’s doing his makeup, the way she smiles whenever Johnny would laugh at her lines, or simply just stand there beside him if she could.

But he doesn’t know what to do about it. It doesn’t help that on their next schedule, a different makeup artist stands in front of him, holding up a brush.

Naturally, Johnny asks for her. Because she’s part of the staff. She’s been doing his makeup for months now. He also knows she’s professional. She even did his makeup retouch that time, when she heard Johnny, and she did it flawlessly even though she wouldn’t look at Johnny more than what’s necessary and she didn’t say a word throughout.

“She’s taking a day off,” the makeup artist who’s been with them longer answers, not even meeting Johnny’s eyes as she says so.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she simply shrugs and proceeds on Johnny’s makeup.

They said she’s taking a day off but when she doesn’t come for a week-long schedule abroad, Johnny can’t take it anymore. He walks up to one of their managers and ask if she already quit or something.

“She didn’t,” he just tells Johnny.

He is close to demanding “Then, why isn’t she here?” but he swallows it inside him because what’s it to him anyway? Can he even call them friends after what he said? Because he’s pretty sure what he said can also be translated to “As if I would be friends with a makeup artist.”

He’s obviously not in the mood because Jaehyun approaches him and says, “She’s watching her sister in the hospital.”

He doesn’t even deny it anymore. That he’s thinking about her. That he’s only been thinking about her. That when they say she, it just means her. “How did you know about it? Did she talk to you?”

“No,” Jaehyun shakes his head, sitting beside Johnny. “I heard from one of our stylists.”

“What happened to her sister?”

“They said it’s cancer.”

Johnny’s mouth drops. “Jaehyun, don’t —“

“I’m not one to joke around someone’s sick sister, Johnny,” the other immediately says, sighing. “Remember that time she looks so down and won’t say anything? I think it’s when they found out about it. She probably didn’t come this time because,” Jaehyun stops and Johnny understands. He doesn’t want to say it.

He stares at his phone. Should he call her? Will she answer? Is it the right time to bother her? She already has so much to think about. She doesn’t have time to think about Johnny.

Or that’s what Johnny thinks as he puts down his phone and firmly closes his eyes, no hint of sleep in his veins. He doesn’t want to bother. He doesn’t want to put more in her plate. But he wants to know if she’s okay. He wants to make sure that she’s okay.

11:11 pm from: seo johnny to: xxxxx if you were a booger, i’d pick you.

Johnny stares at the message. He deletes it, then types it again. He deletes it, and then he types it again. It takes him about four more retypes until he forces his finger to just send it. Then, he wants to undo it but it’s already been sent and he thinks he might have lost his one chance of making things okay between them again.

He dumps his head on his pillow and screams, fortunately not waking up Mark who has been assigned his roommate for the entire week. He glances at the younger on the other side of the room sleeping soundly while he messes up again in the middle of the night. Who does that? Only Johnny Seo.

It takes him more courage to look at his phone again and the conversation it is opened to than the first time he tried bungee jumping.

The message isn’t read yet.

He falls asleep staring at his opened conversation with the last message still unread.

He wakes up to his alarm and the moment consciousness hits him, he sits up on the bed and opens his message conversation with her again. It’s already read at 4:19 am but there’s no response.

He’s contemplating if he should send another message. What will he say? The pick-up line didn’t work. Not that it’s a good pick-up line but he figures it might make her laugh, or even just smile. He wonders if she’s smiling enough these days, with her sister in the hospital and Johnny hurting her like that.

Johnny sighs, sinking himself on the bed again and holding the phone against his chest. Six more days and he’ll definitely see her again. Then, he’ll talk to her, apologise, ask how she is, make sure she’s eating alright even though she’s staying at the hospital. Six more days.

The first three days drag long and the fourth would have, too, if his phone doesn’t buzz on a familiar but one that he hasn’t heard for a little too long assigned tone.

11:22 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx that’s a really bad one, seo.

Johnny’s eyes widen and he reads her message over and over again and there are so many things he wants to say. Is she okay? How’s her sister? Is someone staying at the hospital with her? Is she still mad at him? Will she forgive him?

11:24 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx how’s your sister?

11:30 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx she’s fine.

He wants to call her. He wants to hear her voice but he wants to give her time. He knows she’s thinking of her sister the most and he doesn’t want to take that away from her. He’s thankful enough that she didn’t completely ignore him.

11:31 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx can i visit when we come back?

11:31 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx you know you can’t.

That’s true. It’s part of his predicament. It’s part of the job.

11:32 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx i’m going to tell the company someone called.

11:34 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx what? who?

11:35 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx cupid called. he wants to tell you that he needs my heart back.

He stares at his phone for about ten minutes until they are being called to shoot the next segment, waiting for her reply. He dives to his phone the moment they finished shooting but there’s no reply yet. It’s read though.

The next few days are frustrating not because Johnny doesn’t enjoy what he does but because even though he does, he wants them to be over so he can go home.

He honestly doesn’t think he can pull it off.

He confesses to Taeyong and their leader helps him talk to their manager who helps him get to the hospital in a time when literally no one is there besides the doctors and the nurses.

Johnny stands outside the door that’s supposed to be her sister’s room, fidgeting. It’s around two in the morning. He has about two hours until he needs to go home if he doesn’t want to be late for their morning schedule and get him, Taeyong, and their manager in deep trouble. He takes a deep breath, puts his hand against the door, and is about knock when it opens on him.

She’s rubbing her eyes sleepily but they widen in full alertness when she sees who’s standing by the door.

“Johnny? What are you doing here?” she asks, poking her head out of the door to check at the hallway if someone catches an idol in front of her sister’s hospital room. She immediately pulls him inside, worried that someone will see him. “What are you doing here?” she questions him again when they’re already inside the closed door.

“I told you. I’m visiting,” he casually answers. “How’s your sister?” Johnny asks, looking past her to the woman lying on the bed, asleep, looking a lot like her but thinner, paler, and walks towards her sister.

She looks like she’s about to question his intentions again for a second but then, she sighs, and follows Johnny to her sister. “She’s fine,” she answers but her voice sounds as fragile as the patient.

He looks at her and notices dark bags under her eyes. He gently lifts his arm and brings the back of his hand to the skin under her eyes. “How are you?” he asks her this time.

She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move away. And Johnny doesn’t know what he’d do if she does any of those things. She just stands where her feet are and stares at him, searching for something. “I’m fine,” she finally says after a moment.

“Will you come to work anytime soon?”

“Did you come here to ask me to come to work?”

“No,” Johnny answers, shaking his head slowly. “I miss you.”

She takes a deep breath and just looks at him, like she’s looking for something beyond his brown eyes. He realises what she’s looking for and he can’t blame her after what he said. He realises he wants to make it right with her. He has to make it right with her.

“I was nervous,” he admits.

“What?”

“When they were asking me how I feel about you, I was nervous because I was pretty sure I was already falling in love with you but I didn’t know what to do about it. I said that and regretted it just as soon as it came out of my mouth. Even before I saw how hurt your eyes were when I found out you were behind me and you heard it. Because I’d fall in love with you whether you’re a bus driver, a bartender, or a makeup artist. I’d still fall in love with you.”

She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again. She looks at Johnny for about ten years, or that’s what he feels under her gaze, before she speaks again. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Yes,” he confesses sheepishly. “I had to explain to Taeyong and to our manager everything. They need to understand what’s at stake here.”

“I can’t believe you told everyone you’re in love with me first before me,” she says, walking towards Johnny.

“No, I’m sure I told you first,” he argues, meeting her halfway.

“When?”

“When I said even if you’re a booger, I’d still pick you.”

She laughs, the laugh Johnny misses so much. The laugh Jonny loves to hear so much. “That’s not what you said,” she tells him, still laughing.

“It’s what I meant!” he says, wrapping his arms around her and when she wraps back her arms on his waist, he realises this is it. This is what he’s supposed to be feeling, light and happy and in love with her. He places a kiss on top of her head and mutters, “I’m sorry I was dumb and slow.”

She shakes his head and pulls him closer. “We’re both dumb and slow,” she whispers. “I should have told you I love you the first time I saw you.”

He pulls away, a little horrified in a good way and laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Why do you think I said all those pick-up lines to you the first time we met?”

Johnny visits her sister in the hospital as often as his schedule will allow it. She slowly comes back to work, too, one schedule at a time in the beginning to continue looking after her sister and fully when they find a donor for her sister. When she tells him over the phone that they found a donor at around twelve in the midnight, Johnny runs to the hospital just to hug her.

She tells him he shouldn’t have come over because she knows they have early schedule the following day but the way she clutches to his clothes when he hugs her — shaking because she’s so happy her sister is going to live that she doesn’t know how to put it into simple words — tells him he made the right decision to come.

He wants to share her happiness with her. He wants to share her worries, too. He wonders if that’s what love means.

His makeup is just about done. He’s already in his stage outfit but he comes back around and around to the mirrors where she’s still doing the makeup of the other members, checking himself over and over again.

“Hyung, you’re blocking the mirror!” Donghyuck exasperatedly complains at him the sixth time he comes back.

Johnny turns to look at the youngest and then at her who is still doing Donghyuck’s makeup, raising a brow at him as if she’s asking him what he is doing. He shrugs, biting his bottom lip, and walks away but not before saying, “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I pass by again?”

“Oh my god,” Taeil mutters from the seat beside Donghyuck, covering his face in embarrassment because it seems like Johnny can’f feel any.

But she smiles although she’s still completely focused Donghyuck’s face and Johnny considers it a win.

After the performance, he finds her putting the makeup pieces on the huge makeup box one by one, carefully, like each will break. He loves how much effort she puts in her job. He silently sits beside her and does the same after making sure that he’s already out of his stage costume and ready to go when they are called.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong but dinosaurs still exist, right?” Johnny suddenly asks.

Jungwoo who is within hearing distance hears it and gushes like he’s watching a romantic drama live while Jaehyun who is also within hearing distance loudly gags. “Someone stop Johnny please,” he mutters, faking another series of gags and walking away in distress.

She laughs at Jaehyun before turning to look at Johnny with a raised brow.

“I’m wrong, right?”

She shakes her head at him as well, still laughing. They have finished arranging the makeup in the makeup box and she stands up, him following after her. “Yes, you’re wrong, but there’s no consensual agreement over a kiss,” she tells him, walking past Johnny with a pat on his shoulder.

“Agreements are unnecessary with pick-up lines!”

They are just about to leave — everything’s already packed up and everyone’s already piling out of their waiting room. Actually, Johnny and the other members should have left earlier but they didn’t have any schedule after so they waited for the staff to have dinner together.

She looks around, checking if they left anything.

Then, her eyes land on the person in front of her. Johnny Seo.

She smiles at him, wondering what he’s thinking this time, standing and quiet like that. He has definitely not been quiet the entire day.

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?”

They are in the middle of the room. Everyone is busy looking after things that they could have left but everyone turns silent when he says that. He doesn’t know if it’s weird fate or bad luck.

“Is that you asking her to be your girlfriend?” Doyoung asks with a tsk.

“Can't you just ask her that?” one of their stylists follows.

“And what do you mean will she be your ‘nothing,' hyung?” Mark questions, too.

“I know, right?” Jaehyun chimes. “Is that supposed to be positive?"

“What’s ‘nothing'?” Donghyuck confusedly asks, saying the word in question in English in an odd way of pronouncing.

“What’s so difficult with ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’” one of the other makeup artists shrugs.

Johnny’s face is burning and he could have answered all of their questions with ��you know nothing” but his eyes are focused on her who is laughing her heart out at Johnny and his pick-up line proposal and at everyone for putting their cents in.

“Pick-up lines don’t work,” one of their managers says, shaking his head.

But she’s walking towards him and wrapping her arms on his neck and that would have been more romantic if they aren’t surrounded by people doubting and judging Johnny’s perfect proposal for her but it’s them and it’s enough and Johnny loves every bit of the moment. From the way she holds his neck towards him to the way she places a kiss on his cheek and softly answers, “Yes.”

Then, she pulls away a little to wink at him and adds, “Pick-up lines do work, right, John?”

Johnny grins and tightly hugs her, revelling on her scent and her warmth and everything her. “Of course they do, babe.” Then, he glances back at their manager and coyly asks, “Who hurt you, hyung?"

[amnesia-yourself]

can i have you for the rest of my life? (4/4)

Kara flushes. She could swear the room’s temperature went up a hundred degrees in a millisecond. Lena stares up at her, expectant. She’s so, so beautiful. Without thinking, Kara presses their lips together.

Before, Kara used to fantasize of this moment. Their first kiss. How Lena would taste like chardonnay from a bottle that Kara buys her, and how Kara would wait 3 seconds before taking her upper lip in her mouth, another 3 before taking her lower lip, and then another 3 before introducing her tongue.

The reality is nothing like that. Lena tastes like an icebreaker and the odd mixture of cheeses they just had at the picnic, and at the first touch of their lips Kara’s head clouds over and she presses kiss over kiss over kiss, sloppy and nothing like the methodical, controlled way she’d imagined. Lena keeps making these weird soft hot noises like she can’t breathe, but every time Kara tries to pull back Lena’s fingers curl around the collar of her shirt, keeping her close.

Lena pulls on her shirt and Kara stumbles forward, all the way across the condo, until Lena’s knees hit the bed. Lena climbs in, pulling Kara along and on top of her, their lips never separated for a single moment.

“Lena,” Kara pants, moaning when Lena bites at her bottom lip. “Lena, really? Really?”

Lena nods, “You wanna have dirty sex out of wedlock?” she murmurs, husky in that way that makes Kara blush.

“Rao,” Kara groans, and leans back in, taking Lena in a rough, long kiss, pressing her down into the mattress. “What do you like?” she asks, lips moving down to her neck- god she can’t believe she’s kissing Lena’s neck. “Tell me what you like,” she begs.

“I like when you figure it out yourself,” Lena tells her.

Kara groans, teeth closing over her neck and biting. Lena moans, louder, and Kara looks up, surprised. One of her hands, previously clenched around the sheet either side of Lena’s head, moves to palm over her neck, touch at the pink blooming there, because of her, because of Kara’s mouth. She did that. Kara presses, light, and when Lena moans, she wraps her entire hand around her neck and squeezes with the ends of her fingers.

Lena moans again, and Kara does with her, so loud that Lena dissolves into giggles. “Oh my god, Kara, calm down,” Lena says in between laughter, her hand sneaking under Kara’s shirt and grasping at her muscles. “Fuck, your back.”

“Can’t,” Kara breathes out. “ You .”

Lena tries to take the lead, to direct Kara, but Kara only grows more fervent and relentless, barely separating their lips to tear Lena’s blouse off, and then her jeans. She suckles at her breasts, and then down to her tummy, and then back up to Lena’s mouth, her fingers swiping her underwear aside.

“You have no idea how much i’ve wanted this, Lena,” Kara puffs against her lips, “you have no idea, Rao, Lena.”

Kara presses one finger into her, slow and debilitating, and then, when Lena accepts it easily, another, curling and touching her everywhere inside.

“Right there,” Lena keens, tilting her head to the side only for Kara to follow her, chasing her lips, “right there, fuck Kara let me- let me breathe, fuck .”

Lena arches, jaw falling slack, Kara licking into her open mouth. Her walls clench around Kara’s fingers, drawing them in deeper, and then unfurling with a flood of wetness.

Kara’s kisses slow down, and the haze that had flooded her mind dissipates. She can finally focus, now that she’s seen Lena, felt her, made her feel good. And she wants to do it again.

They go another round, and then two, until Kara can’t avoid her aching any longer and grinds down onto Lena’s fingers, parting her and finishing her off with unnecessary skill.

“Can I sleep on you,” Kara mumbles, sweaty and more exhausted than she’s been after any fight.

“No,” Lena groans. “You’re crushing me.”

Kara rolls off, sprawling on her back, the sheets sticking to her thighs.

“Let’s take a shower,” Lena says, still panting, hand flopping over to appease her, “and then I’ll sleep on top of you, how’s that?”

Kara hums.

-

They go to Al’s bar for drinks before game night together. Lena wears Kara’s corduroy jacket again, her hair up in a bun and her jawline looking killer, and she lets Kara wrap her arm around her waist as they walk there.

“Lena’s my girlfriend now,” Kara announces to the table. “So. There. Suck it.”

“Nobody was rooting against you, Kara,” J’onn says.

“Also,” Lena says, swiping her arm away and slinking into the booth, “I’m not your girlfriend yet.” she turns to the table. “She has to talk to William first.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Nia says, grinning, “‘cus he’s right there.”

“That is lucky,” Lena says with a pointed look.

Kara groans, puppy dog eyes and pouting, but Lena doesn’t relent. She shuffles over to the bar where William’s nursing a drink with a greeting that belies the news she’s about to give. She skirts around the subject for a while, glancing back at Lena pleadingly the whole time. “You know we’re not dating, right?” she finally asks.

William startles. “I wasn’t sure,” he says.

Kara tries to explain without backtracking for two straight minutes, stumbling over her words, until, finally, Lena appears by her side. Kara blinks at her, unsure, and Lena takes the helm, her hand slipping under Kara’s shirt to press against her stomach. “What’s taking so long?” she asks, head tilted up, and she looks exactly like she did before Kara kissed her and Kara can’t think of anything else. “Did the bartender ask for your ID again?” she asks with a smirk.

“No,” Kara says, affronted. Lena only taps at her stomach, hand retreating and extending towards William.

“Lena,” she says, “Kara’s girlfriend. I believe we’ve met.”

William shakes her hand, gaping the whole while. He rattles off some excuse without pause and rushes out the bar with his phone upside down against his ear.

“Couldn’t you have been less obvious?” Kara hisses, holding her face in her palm.

“You were taking so long!”

“It was only, like, two minutes! I was getting there!”

“Kara,” Lena says, “we’ve been watching you ramble for ten minutes straight. J’onn says he heard the words statue of liberty and cheesy icebreaker.”

“Ten minutes?” Kara winces. “Why didn’t you stop me earlier?”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Time to talk to Alex,” she says. “Listen carefully, this is exactly what you’re gonna say.”

They find Alex by the pool table. She leans on her stick, all her attention directed towards Kara. “It's possible…” Kara says, slowly, trying to stick with the script, “I was acting… a little more Kryptonian than human. I didn’t realize it, I'm sorry.”

Alex puts the pool stick down, looking at Kara in the softest way she has for months.

“I want you to see the place where I grew up,” Kara continues, veering a little off track from the script. She means it. She wants Alex there. Lena, too. “Would you come with me, next time?”

The stick falls to the ground. Alex tackles her in a hug. “I thought you’d never ask,” she says into her neck.

“And you know, the birthing matrix really would—”

Lena pulls her away faster than Alex can reach back for the stick.

“So,” she starts, leading them to a corner. She kisses Kara loudly. “When’s wedding season on Krypton?”

-

Every day is Lena day.

[twomoonstwosuns]

right the wrongs.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part  ·  next part 

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, angst/pining, age gap (reader over 18)

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i wanted to incorporate a little Poe POV, so hopefully this turned out ok! feedback is welcome and very much appreciated (thank you to all who have given me feedback so far, it truly makes me happy to know you’re enjoying this story).

i get to go to work thursday-saturday to prep a store for re-opening, so if you don’t see an update in my normal 3-4 days after this update, that’s why! 

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

Poe sat at the desk in his office, twirling the pen in his hand as he rocked back in his chair. His office door was locked, any knocks by students and staff met by complete silence. There was work to be done, papers to grade, lesson plans to arrange, and an interview to prepare for. The hope was that he’d be able to get some work done, but it wasn’t effective. He had tried working at home and that didn’t work either.  

All he could see when he looked around his apartment was the fight you two had.

Poe was a little surprised to see you in class. He wouldn’t have blamed you for skipping; he didn’t feel like going to class that day either. It took every ounce of strength he had not to look at you during class. He naturally glanced around the room as he taught to make sure his students were paying attention, so he did have to look in your direction a few times. He was glad to see that you were avoiding looking at him. Poe didn’t think he’d be able to bear seeing the anguish on your face. It probably matched his, though he had to do a better job of hiding it.

Truth was, he was miserable being in a fight with you.

This was one of the cons of being in a relationship with you that he dreaded. Besides the fact that it was veryagainst the rules, if there wasany animosity between you, it couldn’t exist in public. Couples fought, it was natural, but you had to fake it. And it was much easier said than done.

Poe knew you didn’t mean what you said, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. He wasn’t proud about his behavior either; of the comments he made towards you out of jealousy and frustration. You had been honest about your ex and he really appreciated that, yet he couldn’t help but get jealous. Was it the fact that you could be seen in public with him and have it not be a big deal or the idea that another guy could think of you the way he did that made him jealous? Poe didn’t know.

The only thing he did know was how quickly the evening had turned into a disaster. He had been excited to see you. He should’ve kept his jealous feelings to himself and let you show him the surprise you had underneath your dress. If Poe hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have said anything and neither one of you would be miserable. But the fact was, words weresaid and there was no way to take them back. He was stubborn; he wanted to see you so badly, but he also wanted you to be the first one to apologize.

There was something to be said that even though he was upset with you and had been hurt by you, all he wanted to do was see you, make up with you, and hold you.

He missed you. Plain and simple.

》 》 》

“Hey, it’s Jannah, leave a message after the beep!”

“You’ve reached Rose Tico. I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!”

“Damn it,” you whispered, tossing your phone onto the counter. You’d never felt more alone than you did at that very moment. Karé was out of town for the weekend, you were barely speaking to Jessika, and neither of your best friends from high school was answering their phones.

You really needed someone to talk to.

It had been two days since you left Poe’s apartment and you didn’t know whether or not you’d get to go back. You almost didn’t go to class because you felt too cowardly to face him. But you did go and you could barely focus. You kept your head down the entire time, only looking up if you had to take note of something. At the same time, all you wanted to do was go up and hug him and not let go. You felt ashamed, hurt by the things you both said and even more hurt when he seemed to ditch his office hours after class. You could only assume it was because he wanted to avoid you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, how wrong it was for you to say.  Of course you didn’t mean it; you could never mean it. Except you did say it and now there was nothing you could do now but apologize.

But you couldn’t bear the thought of Poe looking at you with disappointment again.

That image of Poe was stuck in your brain, taking away your sleep and your sanity. A dull throb beat against your forehead from the crying and lack of sleep.

So you tried to distract yourself with baking.

The smell of chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen. You’d been at this for hours, making batch after batch. There was something so satisfying about mixing ingredients together, pent up frustration coming out with each twist of your kitchen utensils. When you talked to Poe, whenever that might be, you planned to bring a batch as part of your apology, or to use as an icebreaker for what you knew would be a very tense and uncomfortable conversation.

A knock on your door brought you out of your reeling thoughts. Part of you wished it was Poe, but deep in your mind you knew he wouldn’t risk coming into an apartment building full of students. You opened the door and saw the last person you’d expect on the other side.

“Ben! Wh—what are you doing here?”

Ben, all tall and broad, leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “I stopped by to see my mom and thought I’d take a chance and see if you were out of class.”

“How’d you know where I live?”

“I kind of asked your mom.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Ben was nice. Ben was a friend. However, this was a little weird. His eyes wandered around behind you.

“Um, I’d invite you in but my roommate isn’t feeling well and she’s sleeping so I don’t want to disturb her.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Jessika had skipped her classes and stayed home with the beginnings of a migraine. With Ben showing up and saying these things, you weren’t comfortable letting him into your home.

“Would you want to go get coffee then?”

The idea did sound enticing. It would provide a distraction from Poe, if only temporary. And with all of your friends gone or not available, you could use a friend right about now.

“Sure, but I’m in the middle of baking right now. Could I meet you somewhere in like an hour?”

“If you don’t mind driving, there’s a coffee and tea bar about thirty minutes away that’s supposedly really good. My mom goes there all the time, I guess.”

You nodded. “Sounds good, text me the address.”

You bid him goodbye and shut the door, walking back into the kitchen and taking the cookies out of the oven just as the timer went off. You turned the oven off and leaned forward against the counter.

“Everything ok?”

Jessika emerged from her bedroom, hair still disheveled from lying in bed.

“Everything’s fine,” you answered, your tone colder than you intended. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

If Jessika did notice your attitude towards her, she didn’t mention it, instead shaking her head and standing directly across from you. She glanced behind you at the cookies. “You usually only bake when it’s a holiday or you’re trying to distract yourself.”

There was no answer from you, but it wasn’t a silence that told her to back off.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Poe and I had a fight.”

You blurted it out before you even processed the thought, the need to talk about it becoming so overwhelming. But you weren’t going into all of the details, the trust between you and your roommate still very fragile.

“We fought about my ex and then I said something terrible.” You took a deep breath, the exhale shaking a little more than you anticipated. “I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not a terrible person,” Jessika immediately interjected, nearly cutting you off. “I don’t know what you said and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. That doesn’t mean they’re terrible people. We’re human and we make mistakes.”

Glancing up at Jessika, you noticed her looking back at you, the first significant eye contact you’d made with her in weeks. The double meaning didn’t go unnoticed by you and you gave her a half smile.

“Thank you,” you said softly, earning a small smile back from Jessika. “I picked you up some ginger ale and crackers when I was at the store. And help yourself to cookies.”

Jessika gave you a grateful smile before grabbing a glass of water and retreating back to her room.

It was dim, but a little bright light was peaking into your dark cloud. Maybe there was some hope for the both of you.

》 》 》

The café that Ben found was a family-owned, hole in the wall place with a cozy atmosphere. You always imagined these kinds of café’s in small towns across the different countries of Europe, which may have been why Ben had been drawn to it.

It was the kind of place you’d wish you could take Poe to.

Ben bought a cup of tea for you. You teased how much space he took up as he sat down across from you. Ben had always towered over you, even when you first met him in middle school. It wasn’t until high school when you became friends and became comfortable enough to make light-hearted fun of him for it.

You picked up where you left off at the restaurant, having Ben elaborate more on his travels since you had gotten through all of the reminiscing and catching up. As hard as you tried to stay engaged in the conversation, it got increasingly harder. You felt bad, enjoying yourself while you were supposed to be feeling guilty about the things you said. You kept glancing at your phone, having sent a text before you sat down telling Poe you missed him and wanting to know if you could talk.

You started to regret leaving your apartment. It was so much easier to wallow in self-pity when you were curled up in a blanket in the comfort of your own home.

“Earth to Y/N!” Ben snapped his fingers in front of your face and snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Ben tilted his head in concern, the look on his face saying he didn’t believe you one bit. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just tired. And a little stressed.”

“Do you want to get dinner tonight? Talk about it?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a sympathetic half smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“That’s ok, maybe another time,” Ben said. He eyed you cautiously. “Do you…ever think about what went wrong between us?”

You were waiting for this topic to come up. Truth be told, though you anticipated this conversation being a little on the uncomfortable side, you were happy it was brought up between the two of you and not when you were at dinner with your families. Your tongue pressed against the back your teeth.

“I don’t think anything went really wrong,” you answered after careful consideration, your fingers drumming against the side of your cup. “We didn’t fight, there wasn’t cheating…we were kids with our whole future ahead of us. We’d only been dating four months, whatever ‘dating’ meant as a couple of teenagers. And the marriage thing…”

“Yeah, not my greatest moment.”

You gave a light laugh, glad that there were no hard feelings between the two of you over your breakup. Ben suddenly placed his hand over the one that was wrapped around your cup of tea. You felt your whole body freeze.

“I want to try again,” he said softly, holding your gaze. “Us.”

You gulped as your smile fell. “Ben…”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I got back.” The pad of this thumb gently ran over the back of your hand. “We were good together.”

You pulled your hand back quickly. This was the last thing you needed to hear, your mentality already delicate between all the fights you had in your life right now.  

“Ben, I have a boyfriend.”

Ben sat back in his seat, studying you carefully.

“You didn’t say that at dinner,” he finally said after a few seconds.

“It’s still new. I didn’t want to share it quite yet.”

“You haven’t posted it on social media.”

“Stalking my social media now?” What was meant to be said in a joking manner instead came out irritated. “I’m not obligated to post my relationship status online.”

“No pictures either.” You knew Ben was testing you and you felt exasperation bubbling inside you at having to defend every statement you made.

“He’s a private person.”

“He a student?”

“No, he’s graduated already.” You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back in your chair. “Why the interrogation?”

“I’m starting to think this boyfriend doesn’t exist.”

“Well, he does.”

“What’s his name?” You kept your mouth shut. He could coax this information out of you, but you weren’t giving him anything else. “You’re not going to tell me his name?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s my business.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“Yes he does.”

“Then why won’t you tell me his name?”

“Because it’s my business, Ben!” You repeated, voice growing louder. A couple of other patrons turned to look at the sudden outburst. “You don’t need to know everything about my life. We are completely different people now.”

“Why’d you agree to this coffee date then?”

“I thought I was just getting coffee with a friend. Usually when two people are on a date, they both know it.” You stood up, quickly putting your coat on. “I think it’s best if you stop texting me.”

“Why? You’re boyfriend going to get jealous?” Ben was irritated. You were irritated. And you were done.

“He doesn’t control who I talk to,” you explained. “It’s because I’ve told you I have a boyfriend that I want to keep private and you don’t respect that.”

You stepped away from the table, but decided to turn back with one last thing to say. Ben had been watching you.

“You can believe he’s real or not, I don’t really care. But even if he wasn’t, the answer would still be no.”

With that, you walked out the door, the care you were taking to not slip on the slippery sidewalks preventing you from storming to your car like you wanted. As your car warmed up, you looked at the previous message you sent to Poe an hour earlier, telling him you missed him and asking if you could talk. It had been delivered, but not read. You texted him again, telling him you were coming over before tossing the phone into your purse and pulling out of the parking lot.

The wintry roads made you drive slowly, which gave you plenty of time to think of what you were going to say when you got to Poe’s. He had been right. There was no way he could’ve known, but he was right. And you were angry that he was right.

Had you led Ben on? You went over the conversations you had with him, trying to pinpoint where you might’ve been a little too flirty or accidentally touched him a little too friendly. And meeting up for coffee – you were practically on a date with your ex while you were fighting with your boyfriend.

You felt guilty, even though you were pretty sure you didn’t have to.

You were going to tell Poe everything. Honesty didn’t get you very far the last time you decided to tell the truth, but you didn’t know how much more you could keep bottled up. As messed up as it was, even if you got in another fight with him, at least you were in the same room as him.

Being upset was exhausting and distracting. You barely registered the music coming from the radio. You were only aware of other cars on the road when their lights blinded you as they drove in the opposite direction as you. You were consumed by your thoughts, consumed by guilt, and consumed by heartache.

It wasn’t until you slammed on the brakes and your car started spinning out of control that you realized how distracted you truly were.  

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