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#I tried to make his shoulder anatomy at least a bit accurate but now he looks really buff so whoops

emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

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Heart Song (2)

In which Tech grows closer to his soulmate and his training deepens his understanding if who he is.

Tech was in a good mood. He had narrowed it down to two reasons:

1. He was doing more specialized lessons and training, meaning less time getting dirty looks from the other boys.

2. He had all the words to his soulmate's lullaby figured out. She had sung him the one about whiskey several times, and would be overjoyed that he had learned it.

Tech was humming it over breakfast today, stirring the unnamable food on his tray with his spoon, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Someone's in a good mood." His blonde brother remarked. He'd said he would go in for special combat and sniping training later today, so he was less snide and sarcastic than usual.

Tech nodded, shoving the spoonful in his mouth. "Excited for training, that's all."

"You're telling me!" Wrecker cheered. "I get to throw things all day."

The most average looking out of the four of them nodded. He didn't say anything- he didn't have much to say, typically. He hadn't said much about what he was apparently specialized in- but he'd started sleeping with eye and ear coverage since he'd met with Nalaa Se.

"Apparently, I'm going to be running through programming and artificial anatomy today." Tech's leg bounced and he wondered if he should tell them about the lullaby. Not yet, at least, he decided. "Then we get to do training together later."

Wrecker laughed, smacking the table. "I hope you guys are prepared! I'm thinking I can throw one of you at a droid."

"Please don't." The blonde one mumbled, lowering his spoon.

Tech grinned, pushing up his glasses, chuckling. "Let's see what they give us. I wouldn't mind being thrown."

Wrecker cheered, leading the oldest of them, the most normal looking, to chuckle and pick up his tray. "I've got to run. I'll see you later."

"Bye." Wrecker waved, and Tech and the blonde one repeated after him. Wrecker shoved the last bits of the gelatenous pile of nutrition in front of him into his mouth, swallowing mightily and jumping up. “I’ve gotta run too.” he waved at his brothers and practically sprinted out, giggling gleefully about throwing heavy things.

Tech stirred his food, standing after a moment, walking in a haze to the appointed training room. What did his soulmate look like? He sighed, happily, thinking of her voice. Maybe her hair was long! Or curly! Did she have glasses too?

There was an obvious pep in his step as he entered the training room, mechanical mind engineering all the faces she could possibly have. No matter how she looked, his little heart was already pledged so deeply to her that he was scared if he took it away he would simply die.

Tech sat down at the screen, fingers flying over the keys, embracing each click as a musician does his instrument. He found his leg bouncing under the pristine table to the song he had memorized.

What will make the dumb talk, what will make the lame walk, what's the elixer of life-

Tech blinked as the screen flashed, them went blank. He looked up at the Sargent standing behind him. "What happened?"

"You finished." The Sargent offered him a half smile, taking the headset Tech removed from his ears. "Good job, kid."

Tech stood, quiet, nodding softly. He paused and looked back. "Sargent, sir?' A grunt acknowledged him, and Tech inhaled. "Is there any way I can... find music?"

The Sargent hummed in thought, glancing at the boy, brow piqued in... concern? Question? Tech felt his face flush. "If it's no trouble-"

"No, no. Cadets don't usually ask. That's all." The Sargent rubbed a finger along the headset, pushing his lips together in thought. "There's a few spare radios in the hangar bay. Gonna be shipped out and thrown. If you can fix one, it's yours."

Tech perked up. "I can?"

"Yes." The Sargent smiled, shaking his head softly, but the curious glint had been replaced with amusement. "Go on, now. You're due for combat in an hour."

Tech thanked him before marching away as quickly as he could, doing all in the world he could to not skip. He paused, looking around, and then whispered, "Song bird?"

There was a pause, and then a gleeful giggle responded. "Smarty pants! Calling so early?"

Bobbing his head in a nod, Tech smiled. "Yeah. I wanted to ask you something. The Sargent said if I could fix one of the radios, I could have it. I want to listen to music. Maybe I'll know lullabies too."

"Please!" She gasped. "You would learn songs for me?'

The joy in her voice alone was enough to send the boy spiraling again, imagining the smile on every face he could imagine. "I would learn all the songs for you," Tech sighed, narrowly avoiding bumping into a rather stern-looking trainee, smiling apologetically, the rose haze of infatuation lifting briefly.

"You're so sweet!" The girl gushed, squealing. "Who knew my soul mate would be such a sweet heart?"

"I thought I was smarty pants."

"A sweet-smarty-heart-pants."

The words didn't make much sense, but Tech conceded, making his way into the darkened hanger. "I did lots of training today."

"What kind?"

"It's pretty boring," Tech admitted, sheepishly, as he tugged at a cable.

"You want to listen to my songs! I want to know what you know."

His heart was near exploding, it was beating so quickly. "You... do?" Other clones steered clear of the nerd, and his brothers could get easily frustrated with Tech talking about things they just wouldn't understand. Mechanics and physics were beyond them, though fascinating to him. "No one ever wants to know."

"Well," She reasoned, and Tech imagined her puckering her lips in thought. "If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, I want to know more about what you like."

The rest of our lives.

His face went red again, and Tech made an involuntary noise, joy washing over him as he finally heaved up a smaller, clunky radio from the pile. "That sounds incredible." He clutched that device to his little chest, heart racing, and almost slumped over.

He stood and walked, a sense of purpose in his heart. "Can I talk to you more tonight?"

"You can talk to me any time." She sighed in response, sounding almost as smitten as Tech felt. "What are you going to do now?"

"My brothers and I are going to the arena. We're practicing combat today." He picked up his pace, dispensing the radio at the foot of his bed. "We're trying to be soldiers. Training is important."

"Do your brothers know about me?"

"No." Tech inhaled. "I'm technically not supposed to be talking to you."

She sounded horrified, appalled. "Will you get in trouble? Why?"

He shrugged, adding "I'm not sure, I just shouldn't," a little lamely. "But I really want to keep talking to you. We can have a secret together! Just one you and I know about."

She laughed, in affirmation, stating it sounded so romantic and thrilling, like some story her fathers read to her. Tech could only smile as he hurried down the hall to join his brothers for their combat training.

___

It wasn't that Tech hadn't believed Nalaa Se when she stated they were an experimental batch of specialized troopers. As far as he knew, the Kaminoans wanted the best for him and his brothers. It just shocked him as he watched the four of them, himself included, in action.

The blonde one was deadly accurate with a shot, taking only a second to scale upwards, aim, and take down a series of AI. Wrecker abandoned his gun for throwing droids at each other, practically invincible in his cadet-regulated armor, and the oldest one, the normal looking one, wove away from his brothers quickly and between the barriers, making his way quickly towards the droids.

Tech was stunned. For all the engineering, for all his brains, he lacked skill and brawn. He stationed himself behind the barrier, shooting at the droids that stalked up. He grimaced, looking around. His batch was too far, and he was alone.

He exhaled, hands shaking on the training pistol. He thought that the mechanics, the autonomy, were all he needed-

Tech paused. He lowered his gun, glancing around. "Wrecker! I need that commander droid!" He saw Wrecker give a brief grunt of agreement, and then he ran towards Wrecker, who was currently yanking down the commander droid.

Tech yanked the droid down and pried open its head, tugging around at cords and wires. "Wrecker, cover me!" He grimaced, fingers working at the cords, small brain working to try and remember what did what.

The droids shut down, and Wrecker cheered. "This is the end of your training session. Please return to the point of entry."

Tech felt his shoulders slump, abandoning the droid's cranium. His plan- it hadn't worked. He just wasted his time. The room was littered with remnants of practice deoids his brothers had easily taken down, and here he was, struggling with one. Tech stood, slowly, and followed his brothers, shuffling in behind them, shame covering his face, and he reluctantly moved his helmet from his head, eyes downcast. His glasses slid down his nose as he tried to not sniffle.

Stupid glasses. Useless clone.

___

He tinkered with the radio, quiet, waiting for his soul mate's voice. It seemed to be the only thing that would bring him comfort.

Even his oldest brother's encouragement wasn't enough. "It was a good plan, Tech! You'll get the hang of it." Tech had only mumbled in response and let the blonde dissuade Wrecker (who was dramatically reenacting the training), leading the others out to go watch a spar between some older cadets.

The door opened, and only a muffled step responded. "Tech?'

The boy grunted a soft hello to 99. He didn't bother glancing back, frustrated tears still pricking his eyes. Good soldiers don't cry.

Tech heard 99 approach, and felt the weight of his bed shift. The older clone was kind, caring- especially towards this batch. Perhaps he was some of himself in them. "What's wrong, Tech?"

"Nothing," Tech whimpered, trying to inject venom in his words. It was a pitiful attempt. His grip on the radio slipped and it collapsed on the bed. Tech sniffled, reaching up to rub his eyes, still not looking at 99. "I'm useless."

"Now, Tech, don't go saying that." 99 reached down with a knotted hand and gently patted Tech's shoulder, letting the boy sniffle as he hugged his pillow. "What makes you believe that?"

Tech inhaled, shakily, removing his glasses and rubbing his face. "W-well," he gulped in air. "I was tr-tr-training with my brothers," His voice warbled, and he swallowed to contain it.

Good soldiers don't cry.

The older clone offered a gentle smile, nodding and humming in encouragement.

Tech gave a sob. I'm not a good soldier. "I tried to do something during training. I saw Wrecker and- well, they don't have names yet, but they were all doing these amazing new combat skills." Tech's face went red and he rubbed at the tears, now breaking past their barrier. "And I just... sat there. I thought, maybe I could re-program the commander- but- I- I-"

Tech broke. He buried his face in his little hands and began sobbing. His fingers felt soft, and he drew his head away in disgust. Wrecker already had blisters from lifting weights, and the other two were forming callouses from their specialized combatative training, with knives and rifles. "My hands are wimpy, even." Tech whined, pulling his knees to his chest.

99 kept his hand firm but easy on Tech's arm. He patted the boy's back, listening to him gulp in air and try to control his breathing, and waiting patiently. "Breathe deep. You'll want to, because I have something to say."

Tech sniffled, picking his head up and inhaling through his snotty nose, then exhaling from his lips, thick from crying. His face was still warm, and his eyes felt dry, but his chest felt lighter. He glanced at 99, who was smiling softly, the comforting weight of his hand still on Tech's shoulder. When he finished, 99 scooted closer, hands moving to shakily pick up the radio. "You aren't useless. Would you call me useless?"

"Never!" Tech drew away, fingers gripping the glasses in his hands. "You're not!"

99 chuckled gingerly, adjusting the radio to sit in his lap. "My point exactly. None of us are useless, Tech." His knobbled fingers traced the old radio, thoughtfully, as if trying to draw words from the stations not playing on it. "One way or another, we live to serve each other. We all have a purpose. It can be hard to find. You seem to know yours, Tech, and you should value it. You're smart and I don't know any other clones who would think of running out into battle to try and hack a commander droid." He reached to his chest pocket, tugging out a small and thin cylindrical object. "Sometimes, though, you need tools to get you there."

Tech's sniffles had subsided. He was down to taking a few occasional shaky breaths, watching the clone work gingerly on the radio. "So, I need tools?"

"Everyone does." 99 stated simply. "You're all good kids- gonna be good troopers, too." 99 tapped the know, smiling slightly in victory when it crackled to life. "You're just gonna need to have to right tools to make your purpose happen."

Shoving his glasses on, Tech scrambled to the radio. "You fixed it!" He bounced on his knees, turning the dials with a loving unfamiliarity. "Thank you."

"Any time," 99 stood with a grunt, hobbling towards the door.

Tech rotated towards him. "99?"

"Hm?"

"Can I tell you a secret? It has to be between us, okay?"

Chuckling, 99 slid the door shut again, sitting down on the bench. Standing for a long time was hard on his body, and Tech scooted his legs under him. "Sure, Tech. I'll keep it between us."

"I met someone." He grinned, fiddling with the radio. "She's wonderful."

"She?" 99 blinked. "General Tii?"

Tech shook his head, excitement bubbling in him. "My soulmate." He grinned widely. "I have a soulmate! She's wonderful," he repeated, knees bouncing. "She likes to sing and she listens to me."

99 grinned, crow's feet by his eyes wrinkling. "Tell me about her."

"Well, she sings to me.' Tech's chest tingled, and he felt like a fog, a good fog, was closing in on him. "I don't know her name, though. She doesn't know mine." He paused, setting down the radio. "I really want to meet her some day, 99." Tech adjusted his glasses, pausing. "I'm not going to be useless to her, I hope."

"You won't be." 99 smiled, standing. "Not a lot of cadets are familiar with soulmates, here." He paused. "And I'm not good with girls myself, but if you need anything, let me know." He grinned and stood, grunting with effort. "We all deserve a soulmate. I'm glad you have one."

Tech exhaled in relief, assured that the soulmate would be kept between the two of them, and he turned on the radio, listening for songs to learn just for his soul mate.

Tech quietly curled up in bed, awaiting for her voice to fill him.

But it didn't. Not that night.

___

Tag list:

Thank you all for your comments! Im trying to figure out how to change this to my primary blog so I can respond without posting my personal blog a ton! I see and love all your comments, they don't go ignored. I'm just trying to figure out dumb technology, haha!

@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @lafy-taffy @photowizard17 @nick-djarin @fanfic-cave @shytastemakerthing @phoenixhalliwell

#bad batch #tech x reader #bad batch reader insert #tech x you #bad batch tech x you #soulmate au #clone force 99 #clone wars reader insert #heart song #minty writes

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geekkatsblog · 3 years

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Reviewing Grey's Anatomy Episodes but this time its Season 17

(To those people on my page who don't watch Grey's Anatomy but are being subjected to this I'm so sorry but I really just like to vent about this show.)

Its season 17 now Yay.

They're dealing with the covid 19 pandemic and I'm sure the writers probably did lots of research to make sure that they had the most accurate representation of the situation in the hospitals and otherwise.

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First we're going to start with the love triangle that is Teddy, Tom and Owen.

Owen

Now this is in no way excusing what he's done in the past for the longest while I've loathed Owen Hunt but..... now I feel sorry for him. He saw he had a problem he went to therapy to get himself right, he was actually a good partner for once and communicated in his relationship, he took his time and didn't jump into marriage spontaneously and then Teddy cheated on him over but dial to be heard by everyone in the operating theater with Owen on their wedding day. (I don't want to sound bad but this might also be karma coming to but him in the ass.) I felt so much 2nd hand embarrassment for him and the pain he had in his face the whole time he pretended not to know about her cheating was just oof. I loved though the end where he drove away for the mean time I really do agree with him taking some time and space before he makes a decision. Most of the times he made a lot of sudden decisions that later came back to bite him.

Teddy

Oh Teddy, she used to be one of my favorite characters from a little after she came to the time she left but now they just carried her character so far down hill that it's hard to keep the same energy I had before, now. Everyone at Grey Sloan is on Owen's side and giving her the cold shoulder and she really wants everyone to mind their own business (I honestly agree though, you're in the middle of a pandemic mind your business and do your job now isn't the time to be shunning coworkers because they cheated.) However when she did explain her side I kinda understood it a bit better. It's still an awful thing to do but I know plenty of people who sabotage their own happiness because they aren't used to it. Hell I do it myself sometimes. But then I was also pissed when she just pretended she did nothing wrong at first. First thing first she acted kinda offended when Owen explained why he hadn't called to cancel the wedding to her. Was it kinda sus? The answer is yes but you literally cheated on him that same day, you needed the extra time sis. Not to mention the several time he hinted to her that he knew and gave her the chance to confess yet she lied through her teeth whenever he hinted at it and flat out lied again when he asked if she had anything to confess. I get the whole sabotage route but God was I happy when Owen got in his truck, drove off and left her.

Tom

I was honestly rooting for Tom in the beginning, despite him being a douche I knew deep down he had a heart somewhere, but I actually started to feel less sorry for him last season when he continued to sleep with Teddy despite knowing her situation which he pointed out to her several times and she still ignored it. I know he loves her but let's be honest, she's going to pick Owen as long as he decides to actually take her back and Tom will be left alone and heart broken with his $100000 worth of boxes in booties and a golf club to measure 6 ft distance between him and everyone else. Honestly I kinda saw a panic attack coming, if they're treating Teddy bad then they're probably treating him even more like crap based on the fact that no one besides Teddy, Catherine and maybe Amelia liked him to begin with. This may also be an unpopular opinion but I actually agree with Catherine for making him resign of chief of all chiefs his head hasn't and probably won't be in the game for a while. At least he still gets to be head of neuro. He bought a whole $100000 dollars in booties alone by mistake during an already tough pandemic between that and everything else going on around him I'm not surprised he broke. What did surprise me was that no one even went near him to help even after the attack was finished. Dislike him or not at least ask him how he's doing geeze.

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Jo and Jackson (Never thought I'd have to put the two of them together in a title.)

Truly the biggest shock of the night besides the trailer for next week which I will freak out about later.

So Jo has decided that in order for her to feel herself again she has to do the devils tango with someone and because they're in a pandemic and she trusts him she chose Jackson. The night of the appointment to do the deed Jo ends up crying in his mouth. The way she treated him afterwards at first was a little uncalled for in my opinion, I mean she was the one who asked for the favor. But later they talked and it was all cool again. Jo didn't really have that big of a plot this episode so not too much to talk about.

Jackson

Agreed way to quickly to doing the devils tango with Jo if you ask me. Seems a little sus. I really hope they aren't rushing him and Jo into anything give the girl some room to breath and also give Jackson a proper plot he seems to be a plot filler for everyone right now like they have no real purpose for him on the show at the moment. I'm beginning to really think that he was the one who was supposed to die last season. I really do love his and Richard's relationship. Jackson never really had a good father and Webber seems to be filling that spot quite nicely. Him pushing Webber to fight to get better and convince him that his career can be saved was heartwarming. And can we take a moment to talk about Harriet finally appearing from the world of Narnia to bless us with her presence? And boy was she a blessing. That baby that plays Harriet was awesome from her repeating Vic saying she can't be a step mom all to her facial expressions. I hope to see baby Harriet again very soon. But speaking of Vic, did she not know that Jackson was a father? How the hell did she expect to never run into her at some point? Then there's the whole question of what did she even expect of the relationship with Jackson if she never intended to even try to accept being around his daughter? also if she really want to be Robbie Rotten from Lazy town and avoid being around kids, maybe she should call or text first instead of showing up in just a fluffy jacket and nothing else.

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Deluca

Glad to see he finally got the help he needed and is back put tho work. I felt so upset last season when everyone just treated him like crap without trying to help him, but they made up for it a little by trying to help him with the intervention. He was also right about the sex trafficking case and I was so glad to see that he was able to be there as her doctor. Plus he's now also finally in dark blue scrubs it has felt like forever before he got those but I digress. He is now on his way once again to be a kick ass surgeon with the awesome skills hes already showcasing. I just hope he continues to look after himself. Deluca shine like the star you are babe.

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Maggie

Has finally found a man who understands her, he is so nice and kind and caring the whole episode I was mentally yelling go get it hun to the screen. She deserves someone who can take her seriously and understand her awkwardness as well as her tendencies finally she has stepped out of the role of cheerleader and support character and is branching out to something else and I'm here for it. And her yelling at Catherine, to share her piece of mind. I was so proud. Go get it sis.

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Richard

Richard Webber is back in the building, finally the king has returned to himself and already solving problems in day one. At the beginning when he publicly called Catherine a pain in the ass I was so stoked I finally thought that he was done being pushed around by her but then he took her back in the end it also kinda felt like she bought him in order to get him back with the hiring him as the new chief of chiefs but I wish them the best of luck, Webber deserves to be happy. I was also happy to see him and Bailey interacting like friends again. For a while it was awkward between them but now it's like the balance has been restored. Side note, him laughing at Teddy and Owen made me laugh so loudly especially when he asked Teddy if her name was still Altman despite the fact he clearly knew about the phonecall drama, not gonna lie I'd do the same.

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Catherine

Not much there, just her being angry at the pandemic and loss of money, lack of power to save lives as well as trying to win Webber back which she successfully did after firing Koracick and giving Richard his job and finally giving him a heartfelt apology without being petty.

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Bailey

It might just be me but so far despite the fact that it's only been 2 episodes. Bailey seems somewhat better this season. Her guilt over Deluca was definitely warranted but at least she tried to make up for it (and just like Harriet her OCD has decided to rejoin us for a visit from Narnia.) For the past few seasons she's been a slight pain but now she seems more like herself.

Her and Ben are adorable as usual, coming every 12 hours to clap for the doctors just to see her then the cute hand signals they made for each other, between Ben, Link and recently added to the group of awesome partners Winston, I'm beginning to wonder where I can find me one of these super thoughtful understanding handsome men. The two guys that knocked her over as well spraining her ankle really should have to pay or something or at least apologize, they literally just knocked a doctor off her feet and made her wheel chair bound, the chief ro be exact. Her and Webber are on talking terms and well again but she really needs to know how to express concern better. She once told Ben that when she's scared she yells but a lot of things would have gone a lot more smoothly if she'd just reminded him he was a high risk for covid and state her concern for him to begin with instead of barking out orders.

I'm also wondering if shes going to be able to handle the whole Covid situation so well for the whole time, with all the chaos and disorganization with the whole ordeal not to mention the whole fit she had with the germs in the episode. I think it'll be a good storyline now that Grey's seems to be bringing mental awareness back up.

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Link and Amelia

They have now officially reached my list along with Ben and Bailey and a few others that are no longer on the show that have reached the stage of killing the couple goals on this show.

Despite the fact that they're not only raising their own baby but also Bailey, Ellis and Zola yet their relationship is still solid. I'm so proud of my baby Amelia she has come a long way from the woman who didn't even want kids to begin with.

I loved the fact that he wasn't upset over her forgetting his birthday and acted like nothing was wrong, just so she wouldn't feel bad about forgetting. I would have been livid set a reminder on your phone babes. Either way she definitely made up for it later with the whole redoing his birthday thing. Also welcome to the world Scout. Looking forward to seeing them more often.

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Levi

How did it all turn so bad, Nico has turned into such a jerk at this point I'm not even sure I'd be to upset if he left if it wasn't for the fact that I ship the person he was before and Levi so much I'm still hoping that they'll go back to how they were before Nico became a lying hypocrite. At the end I was practically begging Levi to push him away, Nico doesn't deserve it not after the way he treated him and he hasn't even shown a hint of remorse to this day.

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Meredith

The biggest shock of the whole episode. I honestly knew something was going to happen to her from the time she fell asleep and started the dream on the beach. Dreaming of beaches have never been a good sign on Grey's I just thought she was going to collapse from stress because she really had been pushing herself all episode. The thing with Meredith is that she cares so much for her patients and does anything she can to save them, but based on the preview of the next episode and the tests they showed it doesn't seem to be test. And let's just talk about that huge bombshell they dropped by bringing back Derek I never thought I'd see Patrick Dempsey on the show again. By the end of the episode I was already literally shaking in anticipation for the next episode. I know they can't kill Meredith, without her there literally is no Grey's Anatomy. That being said I really hope they don't give her cancer, (I know Patrick is involved with helping a charity for cancer.) And I also really hope she isn't getting alzheimers I just hope it's nothing serious in general. She's been through enough man. I just want this to be a really touching moment where I get to see Merder have some touching moments and it doesn't end up to be Izzie and Denny all over again. I don't think anyone is ready to handle that. I read in a spoiler that there's supposed to be some more visitors arriving on the beach and I'm stoked for it so I really hope it's a real spoiler I'm tired of rewatching the newer seasons to experience some of the old joy.

___________________________________________

Imma need them to give that intern Perez an official recurring contract for the show because he is currently one of the best things to come on that show in years. He's a breath of fresh air.

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birbleafs · 3 years

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[fic] A Much Ado About (PSI)oulmates

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Humour, Breaking The Fourth Wall Character(s): Saiki Kusuo, Aiura Mikoto, Satou Hiroshi, Akechi Touma, Toritsuka Reita Warnings: None, save for canon-typical shenanigans Summary: Aiura decides to combine her divination abilities with Kusuo’s powers for a super special comedic segment on Affinity Levels. Fic can also be read on AO3 _______

Excerpt taken from clairvoyant Dame Mata-Mata’s advert for Amazing Psychic Services:

99.9% accurate affinity readings and guaranteed life-long happiness! Discover your twin flame with as little 10,000 yen per hour! Some would say it’s foolish to risk your future and wallet on such clandestine offerings, but we assure you, we are no worse than the underhanded brand marketing on children’s television series! Call 1800-TWINFLAMES -1234567 to book a reading today!!

***

Anyone who would believe such clandestine and shady offerings isn’t just a fool but a complete buffoon, Kusuo scoffs impassively at the flyer before him. This is definitely worse than the underhanded brand marketing on children’s TV shows.

“They’re a total noob at it, fer sure!” Aiura says, leaning in too close and posing next to Kusuo as she takes a wefie with her phone. “Like sure, the concept of twin flames and soulmates ain’t new, but to claim everyone has half a soul yearning to get jiggy with its other missing half for life-long bliss is like, a gross oversimplification.” I don’t really care to be honest, Kusuo deadpans. He stares sullenly at how Aiura’s arm is still wrapped around his; she offers him a cheeky grin and a peace sign, snapping yet another wefie before she finally slides away to the opposite seat. “Soulmates just have more natural affinity for each other,” Aiura says, batting her eyelashes at him coyly. “But just like with everything, it doesn’t mean you don’t need to put in any effort to make it work! Hey, speaking of which—the author has a super special birthday tradition where she writes and/or posts up a new story, so this fanfic can totally be about Affinity Meters, right?!” Don’t know what you’re going on about and still don’t actually care, Kusuo retorts, shoving a spoonful of coffee jelly into his mouth as he resolutely tries to enjoy his Sunday afternoon. But Aiura persists, easily breaking the fourth wall to elaborate further: “Just like how Kusuo can use the Affection Meter to quantify a person’s love for another, today we’ll combine Kusuo’s telepathy and my own divination abilities to measure soulmate compatibility via Affinity Levels! So, without further ado, let’s go, let’s goooo!” Aiura, no, Kusuo groans in quiet despair. “Miko-chan, YES!” Aiura whoops, fist-pumping the prologue away as the scene fades out. _______

Satou Hiroshi

Conventional. Moderate. Regular. Behold the quintessential stock background character, the pinnacle of normality—Satou Hiroshi. Standing at a height of 169.9 centimeters and weighing at precisely 61.0 kilograms—the exact national average of a healthy sixteen-year-old Japanese male—he is the gold standard, the epitome of normal. It’s a shame then that few recognize Satou-kun’s remarkable ordinariness, Kusuo muses, watching said background character ambling down the sidewalk with an approving smile. Nevertheless, perhaps that may be to my benefit. Surely our Affinity Levels must be pretty high; after all, we’re both normal and regular high-school teens who do not stand out much— “I don’t think using your powers to make yourself inconspicuous counts though,” Aiura says as she glances over Kusuo’s shoulder, puzzled at his fixation on someone so… well, boring. Kusuo isn’t even listening. We both have regular aspirations and hobbies, seeking only to live peaceful days! “Funnily, I now remember peeking at Normal-kun’s fortune for Hii-chan. And get this, his biggest dream is being on stage as a rock star! Like seriously, how typical can he get?” —So, taking into consideration all of the above, Kusuo presses on, undeterred by Aiura’s commentary, surely we would hit it off as friends with optimal affinity levels! “Uhm, Kusuo?” Aiura nudges him with her elbow, pointing at the meter hovering beside them. “Not to be a wet blanket and all, but the Affinity Meter started running again as you were waxing lyrical earlier, so now it’s showing that Normal-kun and your Affinity Levels are like, really just two stars at best.” She leans forward, squinting at the screen. “Simply because he thinks you’re okay but still a bit of a weirdo. Dayum, the nerve of this twerp!” Kusuo stares wordlessly at her for a beat, slack-jawed. A-Ahyuu…?

Affinity Level: ☆☆ _______

ii.

Akechi Touma

“It pains me to have to do this,” Aiura lets out a dramatic sigh. “But since Childhood Friends is a pretty popular trope in animanga, and therefore in fanfiction, I guess there’s no avoiding it.” Kusuo scowls, not liking where this is heading at all. It can totally be avoided. We can just avoid talking about it altogether. “Is that you, Kusuo-kun?” Akechi says as he suddenly appears at Kusuo’s side, curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, I see Aiura-san is here as well. I couldn’t help but notice how you two were standing and talking together so I thought I should come say hello, even though I was rather hesitant at first. I didn’t want to abruptly barge into your conversation, you see, as that would have been awfully rude, and I certainly don’t wish for you to think of me as rude, Kusuo-kun.” Yet here you are barging in anyway, blathering on incessantly like a runaway freight train, Kusuo remarks drily. “Well, I couldn’t help but overhear the mention of Affinity Levels,” Akeichi beams as he continues, unfazed by the jibe. “And I can’t say my curiosity isn’t the least bit piqued, even if I have little to no real interest or belief in the notion of soulmates. In fact, the existence of an actual soul remains debatable in scientific circles—” Exasperated, Aiura tries to interject. “Since you ain’t all that interested, mind if you just zip those lips for like five minutes? My hair’s gone all frizzy from the heat of your endless jabbering!” “However, these debates on the existence of the soul had also been instrumental to the understanding of the anatomy and physiology of the human body—” “Oh my God, please just stop yapping for ONE sec—!!” Aiura shrieks, tugging at her curls in frustration. She accidentally kicks the Affinity Meter to start running, and the lights blink and flash in a rapid blur before the meter gradually slows down to display four bright stars upon its screen. There’s a beat; the trio leans forward, staring at the meter in awkward silence. Kusuo’s brows are furrowed at the unexpected results; he shrugs it off as a fluke. Clearly there’s some technical issue with Affinity Meter (never mind that the meter works, in part, based on Aiura’s divination abilities, which have, to date, always been accurate). There’s just no way Akechi could ever beat Satou-kun on that scale, he’s too much of an abnormal— But Aiura is already moving forward, reaching out to grasp Akechi’s hand in a firm handshake. “Aiura-san? Is there something…?” She acknowledges Akechi’s curious gaze with a curt nod. “All right, I can’t deny it any longer. Not with that impressive detective aura of yours and with results like that on both Kusuo and my own Affinity Meter.” Oi, oi. Don’t start spouting weird nonsense now, Miss Abnormal! “All right, Akeinu! I hereby deem you a worthy rival in the fight to stand as Kusuo’s trusted sidekick!” “Oho! You’ve even given me a cutesy nickname as acknowledgment! I must say I’m quite flattered, Aiura-san.” How about I side-kick both of you out of my life right now? Kusuo sighs, mildly perturbed by this unexpected turn of events.

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆ _______

iii.

Toritsuka Reita

…… …… …… What, did you seriously think Toritsuka was getting a proper scene? He’s already way too pathetic. NEXT— “W-wait, did you just cut my scene?!” Toritsuka shrieks from the void like a headless chicken. “Don’t just write me off, Saiki-saaan!!” —Saiki exits stage left, pursuing normalcy. “And don’t just narrate yourself out!!”

Affinity Level: N.A. _______

iv. Aiura Mikoto

“At first glance, you might think we make for an odd couple,” Aiura says with a coquettish smile. “And how it seems absolutely cray that we could get along. Or like, that we don’t mesh just ‘cause our personalities clash way too much or somethin’.” She chuckles at the notion, running perfectly manicured nails through her luscious locks. “I mean, it’s obvs only those inexperienced with the inner workings of the heart would think that. Because opposites attract, y’know? It’s the push-pull dynamism between us that spices things up! Like two tango dancers stirring up a flame on the dance floor—it keeps things refreshing and exciting, but still comforting and familiar in the end, like sharing a nice, warm bath at the end of the day, or cuddling up together at the sofa, feeding each other spoons of dessert…” Aiura pauses, blushing when she catches sight of the Affinity Meter fluttering gently by her shoulder, at the line of stars glowing from the screen, a beacon of reassurance of their status as soulmates. She turns towards Kusuo, suddenly self-conscious as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Say, Kusuo… How about we head to that nice dessert buffet together and—” Only to realize she had been practically talking to thin air all this time. “H-Huh?! Aww, gimme a break! Where did you run off to this time, Kusuooo?!”

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆☆ _______ v.

Coffee Jelly

Good grief—finally some peace and quiet. Kusuo sighs as he leans back into the leather seat of his booth, in a nondescript cafe far away from his usual annoyances. He dips a spoon into his dessert bowl, lifting a dark sliver of coffee jelly to his mouth, and smiles in absolute contentment. There’s a soft whirr, and then a ping from somewhere below. He flicks a furtive gaze at the Affinity Meter hovering at the empty space beside him, curious despite himself. The endless line of glowing stars are probably a bit much, but he smiles anyway at the screen. Huh. I guess it works after all.

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

—End— _______ Notes:

It’s tradition for myself to spend my birthday writing and/or sharing a new fic (happy birthday to me!! lol). I also had this sitting in my draft for way too long and decided to kick myself to finish it. Apologies for any typoes/errors.

Comments and critique are always welcomed for my fics—I'd like to hear what you think, if you've enjoyed this! Thanks for reading :)

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo #aiura mikoto #fanfic #psychickers #too lazy to tag all the characters here #but it's basically the pk psychickers + mr. normal-kun lol

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susiequaz12 · 4 years

Text

Carrot Top- 10: A Lesson

Yes it’s three am. Yes I have to work in the morning. But, I wanted to get this edited and posted, and I got it posted. So woohoo! I was also really excited for this chapter, so even though it’s a tad longer than the other ones, I promise it’ll be worth it cause there’s some good stuff at the end. (I hope it’ll be worth it anyways.)

As always, if you have any questions about the world, powers, characters, or wanted to be added to the tag list, just let me know! Also general disclaimer, I did a bit of research for this. I do not know how accurate any of it is, so bear with me that this is fictional and that I have absolutely zero real medical knowledge of how things work. Thanks!

Tags: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, and @thehopelessopus

CW: crushing, restraints, panic, strangulation?, unable to breathe, defiant whumpee, possessive whumper, dehumanization, broken bones.

Masterlist can be found here.

- - -

Andrew had gotten used to the shallow breaths. He’d gotten used to the sharp pains that would flare up in his chest every now and then, before dying down to a dull ache. He got used to the thought that Splice wasn’t going to come back and relieve him from this.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been since he was left alone. He was nearing the verge of passing out. Of succumbing to sleep and letting his chest fall, no longer struggling to breathe.

He was so tired. His body exhausted.

But somehow he received a rush of energy as soon as he heard footsteps approaching.

“Well, I’m ready to continue. I had to go finish my dinner of course. It had gotten cold unfortunately.”

When Splice came back, Andrew almost wished that the man would have just left him alone. Then at least he’d be able to suffer in his own embarrassment and pain, instead of showing that vulnerability he clearly felt.

The man stood to the side of Andrew, just barely within his vision.

“So? Any thoughts you’d like to share?”

Andrew clenched his teeth, and kept his mouth shut.

The man melted into a puddle again, forming another clone like before that wandered off to grab some heavier weights.

“You know, I have plans for you.”

Andrew stared up at the sky as Splice spoke, trying to drown out his voice. He didn’t really have anywhere else he could look, but at least the clouds were nice. The sun was slowly starting to sink over the horizon, making the air slightly cool, but not enough to be chilly.

The man continued to speak. “These plans could make you something great. That could help you be something better, more powerful, something like me. But they’ll only work if you cooperate. I hope you know it is for your own good. You can’t be successful if you’re rude, and don’t do as your told.” Splice glanced over as his clone came back, with a wheelbarrow full of more rocks and weights. “Ah good, it’s back.”

Andrew’s eyes grew wide once more as the air was forced out of him when another large rock was placed right on top of his chest.

Splice walked up to the side of the concrete slab, Andrew tried to look at him through his peripheral vision.

He began rearranging the rocks and the weights. Most of them had been placed directly on the center of his body, his torso, but Splice began to spread them out.

Andrew didn’t know if that was better, or worse. He could breathe a little easier, for sure,- but the added weight to his arms and legs as they were outstretched away from him seemed to just add injury to insult.

“You know, there’s something so satisfying about this method of discipline.” Splice stated. “It’s slow.”

“It’s not discipline, it’s torture.” Andrew groaned.

Splice ignored the comment by placing a large rock atop Andrew’s shoulder before continuing to speak.

“Did you know, that in a slow progression the human body can withstand about 400 pounds per square inch.” He glanced at his clone as he began to place more rocks up and down the boy’s legs. “What would you say we were at by this point?” He looked as if he expected his clone to answer, before responding to himself. “I’d say we’re near 300 pounds by now.”

Splice bent down to pick up a weight at the same time as his clone, and in a tandem movement, they placed the weights on top of the boy, one on the upper and one on the lower parts of his abdomen. Andrew could literally feel his ribcage and his bones creaking underneath all of the weight. It was getting harder to breathe with each passing second as he tried to find enough release for his chest to expand as he breathed. The clone added smaller weights to the boy’s arms and legs as the man continued speaking once again.

“With a slow progression of suffering, it lets you sit and stew with your thoughts. You have to deal with the guilt of what you did wrong, and with the thoughts of how you could do better. You’re forced to sit there and feel sorry for what you have done.” Splice moved towards where he could stand directly above Andrew, and stared directly into his face.

“So carrot top, have you thought about things? Considered anything that you’d like to say?”

But I didn’t do anything wrong.

I shouldn’t have to apologize.

I’ve no need to feel sorry.

Despite the pain coursing through his body, the thoughts running through his brain overpowered what he knew would be the logical thing to say. But he could only think of the words of one man, when he was put in a similar situation as Andrew’s.

So despite the pain, he said it anyways.

“More weight.”

Splice shook his head.

“Alright then.”

Out of the corner of his eye Andrew saw Splice heft up an object from the ground. It wasn’t a normal rock, but a cinder block. A heavy rectangle of not stone, but solid concrete. About three times the size of any previous weights that had been added so far.

“I mentioned that the body can withstand a lot of pressure when added slowly, correct? Well I can’t imagine what it would do with a sudden forty pounds thrown on top. I guess we’ll have to see hmm?”

As he finished his words, he gripped the edges of the cinderblock in two steady hands, and then swung it over his shoulder before slamming it down into the pile of rocks and weights on top of Andrew’s chest.

There were a few things that could be heard once the cinderblock crashed down.

First was the thud from the impact and the rattling of the rocks as they jostled around each other in the pile.

Second, if you were close enough (like in Andrew’s case), you could hear the loud, undeniable cracking of his ribcage. It collapsed inside of him, bones and ribs folding like a paper fan, or cardboard inside of his body.

And third, barely audible, was the most pathetic, strangled scream, followed by wheezing attempts at breath.

His breath grated against the sides of his lungs as he tried to force the air through his body. His eyes started glazing over, losing focus and vision, while his torso screamed at him to be relieved from the pain.

The clone seemed to be moving on autopilot as it continued to add smaller weights to Andrew’s legs, and up and down his arms, but the boy could barely feel it.

“Well, a lot harder now, is it? Reconsidering that apology now, are we?” Splice stated.

That apology.

Andrew had forgot.

Amidst all his defiance and struggle, he had nearly forgotten that the whole point of this was to get him to apologize. A minuscule glimmer of hope shined through as he realized that there was a way out of this. A way to breathe again, a way to sleep, a way for Splice to just stop.

But the thing was, Andrew couldn’t.

It wasn’t necessarily a matter of his pride and his sense of dignity, but more of a matter that he physically could not apologize.

His lungs barely moved enough to get air through so that he didn’t suffocate, but he couldn’t imagine how difficult it might to get the words to form. All he could focus on was the fact that he was literally being crushed, and that his own ribcage could kill him at any moment by puncturing those vital organs that the very ribcage was meant to protect.

And that’s when the panic set in.

That’s when Andrew realized that he had no control over what would happen to him anymore. That he had no power to stop it, or to keep himself from dying as his own body turned against him. He’d been in a lot of terrible situations. A lot of pain, and sorrow and bad luck. But not once had he actually thought that he was going to die.

Until now.

If the boy already couldn’t breathe, the panic and anxiety that set in made that struggle ten times harder.

He barely registered that he was still conscious as he heard voices. He barely registered that Splice had been speaking.

And he barely registered that he had managed to nod his head when Splice asked him if he was sorry.

And all at once the weight was lifted.

Together, Splice and his clone shoved the board off of Andrew. It slid from the table onto the ground with a heavy thud, all of the rocks and weights tumbling everywhere.

The sudden absence of all of the weight was almost just as painful as having the weight on him in the first place.

Andrew’s chest heaved up into the air as he automatically sucked in deep breaths, soaking in as much oxygen as he could.

And then he was greeted with the most incredible amounts of pain he had ever felt. His heart seemed to stop, his brain stopped working, his lungs screamed. Every single organ and muscle and limb and cell and inch of his body cried out with Andrew as the tears poured uncontrollably down his face.

His attempts at breaths were interrupted by hiccuped sobs, harsh groans, and whimpers of pain. His body was still in a state of panic as every part of him screamed danger. As his mind screamed that he was going to die.

He was going to die by being crushed by a pile of rocks.

Oh gosh, how was he not dead yet?

Splice quickly registered Andrew’s fear and vulnerability as soon as Andrew felt it. His arms and legs were still tied down to the corners of the table and he laid there, spread out like a frog in an anatomy class, ready to be dissected.

The man reached over and put a hand on the side of Andrew’s face. The boy flinched and let out a sob at the touch.

“N-no, please, don’t-” Andrew began to murmur. He couldn’t help the pleas that flew from his mouth as he tried anything to avoid any further pain. To avoid any further fear and torment. He felt desperate. He was terrified, and exhausted. Exhausted of fighting, of trying to stay strong, of trying to stay sane.

It was safe to say that Andrew broke. Figuratively, and literally.

Splice’s hand traveled down the side of the boy’s face, going to rest at the base of his neck where the collar sat. He hooked a finger around the metal ring in the center of the leather strip.

Just that slight tug, not quite harsh enough to pull, was enough to send Andrew into another panic.

“No!” He cried breathlessly. His mouth moved, forming the words he wanted to say, but barely any sound came out of his mouth. “Please- don’t, I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I, can’t, I- p-please, no, I’m sorry- please-”

Splice stood back. He kept his finger around the collar, but stood further back enough to look at the boy. He felt somehow, proud, amused, and satisfied, all at the same time.

“Wow.” Splice stated. He was breathless.

The boy was so incredibly vulnerable right now. Like he’d do anything for the sake of avoiding more pain.

And even though Splice knew he needed to take him to rest and let him be healed, he wanted to take advantage of this vulnerability while he had it. The man kept one hand on the collar and the other went up and ruffled through the boy’s fiery hair.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done.” Splice chuckled as Andrew tried to pull away from his touch.

He wasn’t going to have to hurt him any further, as long as Andrew cooperated. But the boy didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve done well with your manners.” Splice began to say. “You’ve apologized- good. But there’s another lesson that I want to introduce you to, while I have your attention. It’s a simple English lesson, really.”

The man’s grip tightened around Andrew’s curls, and the boy let out a sob, followed by a wheeze and a whine.

“I’ll introduce it to you today. I expect you to know it well the next time you are asked about it. Understand?” Splice asked.

Andrew responded with a whimper.

“I need to know that you understand what I’ve taught after I’ve given you the lesson. I need you to understand, that you’re no longer your own person anymore. As far as I’m concerned, you never were. You belong to me now.” Splice turned Andrew’s face to look directly into his, forcing the boy’s eyes open.

“I. Own. You.”

Andrew choked back a sob, shutting his eyes tight as Splice began to teach.

“In English, there are five different W questions that can be asked. Once you are familiar with them, I expect you to answer them with the most exact accuracy. Every time. Failing to do so will result in punishment of course.”

Splice looked down at Andrew and when the boy didn’t respond, he continued.

“The first is Who- Who do you belong to? The correct answer is me. I control you now, understand?” Splice took Andrew’s silence as understanding, and continued. “Next is what. What are you?” The man’s hand moved from Andrew’s head to below his neck. He began to trace the lines around his chest, feeling where the ribs were cracked or broken. Sensing the painful breaths of each struggled attempt to get air into the broken body. “The answer to ‘what’, is a tool. An object. Something that I get to use how I see fit. Understand?”

Andrew gasped as a finger pushed into the side of his ribs. His eyes grew wide and he let out another series of shaky sobs, finally managing to nod his head in response to Splice.

“When and Where are next, but they’re pretty simple.” Splice stated. “When, is whenever I want. For the rest of your life. Where, is here.”

The man grabbed Andrew under the chin, forcing him to tilt his head back to look at him in the face. Andrew’s eyes had begun to droop, drifting off, unfocused. Splice slapped the side of his face a couple times less than gently.

“Stay with me now. We’re almost done.”

It took all of the boy’s remaining energy to keep his eyes open.

“And last, is Why. Now I especially want you to understand this one. ” The man gripped underneath the back of the boy’s head, tilting it up to look at him.

“The answer to ‘why,’ is because you deserve it. It’s because you are worthless. You are only what I say you are, and you deserve everything that will be given to you.” He released the grip on Andrew’s head and placed his hand in the middle of his chest instead, right on top of the boy’s sternum. “Now. Do you understand?”

Andrew’s body was wracked with pain and sobs as he cried helplessly on the concrete table. He choked on his own voice as he tried to form an answer, but all that he managed to do was squeak out a breathy yes, and nod his head.

Thankfully, that was a good enough answer for Splice.

“Good. Now I would test you on this right now, but I want to give it time to sink in.” Splice’s hands moved to the bindings that were keeping Andrew’s arms and legs outstretched, carefully releasing them.

The boy made a feeble attempt to pull his arms back down towards himself, but found that they were exceptionally weaker than he thought they would be. Splice lowered his arms to his sides, as he lay there in his pain, both physical and emotional.

As Splice sat him up on the table, the boy turned to dead weight in his arms.

All the jostled movement of his limbs and bones had flared too much pain throughout his body. Andrew’s eyes fluttered before they rolled back into his head and he flopped backwards against the man’s chest. His head fell down towards the ground as Splice slid him off of the table.

The man scooped the lanky boy up into a carry, his long limbs draping over the man’s arms looking more like a pile of broken branches than a boy.

They walked back into the building as the sun began to set.

“Come on carrot top, let’s get you patched up.”

#whump #whump writing #carrot top #oc #original writing #crushing #pressed to death #torture #restrained #strangled #unable to breathe #panic

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gerrystamour · 3 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 6

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

I choose to believe that anything is possible in the future and that includes ridiculously quick turnaround times after near-death and also Getting Sexy New Teef bc I personally find it really hot.

The smut is only available on AO3! Link is in my pinned post! There is nothing in the smutty parts that is plot heavy, so you aren’t “missing” anything that isn’t covered in the PG-13 parts.

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man, as in he does not experience any dysphoria, and has not hat top-surgery, and he does not wear a binder. I use a mix of typically masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy, particularly his genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual.

Nureyev is never depicted with dysphoria in my fics, or having discomfort with his body because describing such a thing with a character I deeply identify with will trigger discomfort in my own body, etc.

Chapter Six [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev woke up slowly, his entire body feeling heavy and fatigued with a dull pain in his back and across his stomach, along with lesser pains all over his body. He swallowed and grimaced at the sensation of bandages across his throat.

The memories of the heist were slow to return to him. He could remember the sewers before entering, remembered getting to the vault and collecting the weapons. Then Nureyev remembered the Piranha, Juno coming to rescue him and the slice of pain as the knife plunged between his ribs. He remembered only flashes of their desperate escape, mostly just perfect, stupid, noble Juno refusing to leave him behind, even after discovering the wound.

Straining a bit, he could remember the sewers, laying on the ground while Juno was on his comms, panicked and pleading. The memory of Juno’s outrage at the thought of Nureyev—a thief, a murderer, a nameless criminal, a wanted terrorist—dying in a gutter like he deserved, his conviction that he wouldn’t…

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Jolting at the memory, Nureyev found himself properly awake and looking around for his beautiful detective.

Dread settled in his gut as Nureyev noticed multiple things at once. First, Juno was not anywhere to be seen. Second, he was in a hospital room, which did not bode well. Third, he had no glasses, which made it difficult to get an accurate impression on his situation.

The room he was in appeared to be either rundown or unfinished. The bed he was on felt new, however, so he was inclined to assume the latter. Swallowing thickly, he realized just how dry his throat was and looked around again.

He startled when he realized that someone had actually been sitting beside him, and Nureyev wondered how strong of painkillers he was on were. At first, with how groggy he felt and how fuzzy his vision was, he thought it was Juno, but quickly realized it was Benten.

Benten was reading a book but looked up as Nureyev moved around. He snorted a bit before standing to hand Nureyev a pair of glasses.

“Juno grabbed those for you from your hotel room,” he explained as Nureyev put the glasses on, adding, “He paid for a reservation extension, by the way.”

Nureyev attempted to thank Benten, but only a croak came out. When Benten handed him a water bottle and a straw, he nodded gratefully and took long sips. With his throat soothed a bit, Nureyev tried again and asked, “Where’s Juno?”

Benten stared at him, his expression stony before he sucked his teeth and said, “Taking care of whatever you idiots stole.”

“Ah, right,” Nureyev said with a nod, leaning back and trying not to feel disappointed. That was the smart thing to do, and Nureyev knew it. But waking up, remembering the panicked confessions, and not seeing the lady himself… “That’s good, then.”

“Don’t be too upset, Rex. He was here day and night until you were given the all-clear,” Benten said blandly at Nureyev’s sulking. “It would have been romantic, but he’s my brother, so it’s gross.”

“I’m sure,” Nureyev said with a laugh, looking around again now that he could see. Sure enough, the room he was in was unfinished, with most of the equipment missing and wires hanging from where there would someday be cameras.

“Okay, you know what? No,” Benten burst out, startling Nureyev out of his thoughts abruptly. When Nureyev looked back at him, Benten was glaring at him. “It wouldn’t’ve been romantic, because what you two did was stupid , and reckless , and so far beyond selfish, even I am disgusted with it.”

“Pardon?” Nureyev questioned, bewildered. “We were stopping—”

“Yeah, yeah, you were saving the world, whatever ,” Benten snapped, and it was at that moment that Nureyev realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just a little sick of hauling my brother out of gutters, covered in blood. And worse, you two and Rita hid it from me!”

“Benzaiten,” Nureyev started, but he quickly closed his mouth when he realized that nothing he could have said would be helpful.

“Like, fuck,” Benten said with a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “When Juno told us to open without him, and Rita was jumpy all day and then you didn’t show, my first thought was you two dumb saps eloped—”

Nureyev actually choked a bit, blushing deeply. “I didnʼt— We wouldnʼt—”

“—That was literally my worst-case scenario, you know that, Rex? Then Juno’s call happened, and then…” Benten trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Nureyev in the bed before he pouted at the wall next to him.

“Benzaiten, I’m— There’s nothing I can say that can make up for what we did, but I am sorry,” Nureyev said slowly, carefully, and he barely refrained from flinching when Benten looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Benten said sternly, heaving a huge sigh. “Still mad as hell, though.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said with a nod before asking, “So, what happened after I passed out?”

Benten shrugged before saying, “Rita and I closed the cafe early, raced over, you were… bad , and Juno was…”

When he trailed off again, Nureyev remembered the hysterical edge to Juno’s voice just before he faded completely, and nodded.

“I called Mick, since he’s a security guard here, and he pulled some strings to get you up here,” Benten continued after a moment. “No cameras, and no records at all. Juno threw a ton of creds at the doctors and nurses. Rita’s checking constantly to make sure they keep their end of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said after a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“It was Rita’s idea, mostly,” Benten said with a shrug of his shoulders and an eye-roll. “She heard you say ‘no hospitals’ like one of those ridiculous characters from her cheesiest streams and hatched the whole idea.”

Nureyev smiled at that and leaned back against the pillows. “Still, thank you, Benzaiten.”

“Whatever, Rex,” he replied with another eye-roll.

Nureyev actually chuckled, feeling exhaustion coming over him again. “Careful, Benzaiten. You’re almost being nice to me.”

“I’m contractually required to do anything my brother asks for twenty-four hours if he cries,” Benten said flatly. “He asked me to wait with you and ‘be nice’ when you woke up.”

Nureyev laughed out loud, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Licking his chapped lips, he flinched when he found the gap where his teeth used to be. He pressed his tongue into the hole, and made a face, resolving to fix that as quickly as possible.

“Plus, I mean,” Benten began with an explosive sigh. “I can’t really listen to my brother sob about how much he loves a guy while he’s bleeding out in a gutter and then get right back to bullying him when he wakes up. I have some morals or whatever. Yelling at you for being stupid does not count as bullying, though.”

Nureyev froze, eyes flashing open to look at Benten sharply. “How much… did you overhear?”

“Some of it. Enough of it, I guess,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Juno already tore into me about your name, by the way. I get it, my lips are sealed, I’m leaving it alone. You’re ‘Rex’ until you tell me otherwise, okay?”

“Sounds agreeable,” Nureyev said tensely, but he forced himself to relax. This was Benzaiten Steel, the love of his life’s twin brother, with whom Juno shared nearly everything. If there was another person in the galaxy Nureyev would have eventually told, it likely would have been him.

“Just don’t be too hard on him about it,” Benten said quickly. “He’s been working himself into at least three ulcers over it.”

Nureyev merely nodded before he closed his eyes again and laid back. He would think about it more later when he had the opportunity to do so alone.

Benten made an unimpressed noise. “You have to choose your meals, Rex. It’s the paper on your tray.”

Nureyev sighed and shook his head. Exhaustion was dragging on his limbs and he couldn’t be bothered to choose what awful hospital food he would have forced on him.

“Fine, go to sleep. Gonna set you up with a liquid diet,” Benten said sourly. “Nothing but smoothies and broth.”

Nureyev laughed a bit before allowing himself to drop off back to sleep.

It was the next day when Juno returned.

Nureyev was picking at his meal, having eaten everything remotely palatable while Mick sat with him, shuffling a deck of cards. They had played a few rounds of various games up until someone delivered him his meal.

He could hear Juno’s heavy boots in the hall and looked over at the door moments before the detective walked in. Seeing him again, after everything they’d gone through, took the breath right out of Nureyev’s lungs.

Juno’s clothes were dusty and rumpled in a way that made Nureyev think heʼd slept in them, and he had more than a little bit of stubble on his jaw. Nureyev remembered that Juno loved him, and a thousand butterflies took wing in his stomach. He wanted to leap out of the bed and embrace Juno, shower him with romantic verse and tell him over and over and over again that he loved him, too.

But when Juno’s eye met his, he froze in the doorway, his expression open and easy to read for only the briefest of moments. It showed relief first, and then fear before it was closed, like shutters being pulled to keep Nureyev out.

That was concerning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.

Mick looked over and grinned, his big goofy one that was usually contagious. “Hey, JayJay! Welcome back!”

“Hey, Mick,” Juno greeted, biting the inside of his cheek but not entering the room any further. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s great!” Mick replied, turning to scoop up his cards and put them away in their box. “Especially now that you’re back, everything’s perfect!”

“Where are you going?” Juno asked, a look of panic overcoming his expression when his big friend stood and walked toward the door.

“I mean, I was going back to work? I do actually have a job here, you know,” he replied with a full laugh, looking between Juno and Nureyev with a suggestive look. “That, and I figure you two lovebirds would like the chance to catch up.”

Before either of them could say anything, Mick was already out the door, only pausing to clap a heavy hand on Juno’s shoulder as he passed. Once the door shut behind him with a loud clap, silence fell over the room.

After a minute or two with nothing said between them, Nureyev motioned to what was left of his food. “Hungry? I’m not eating the rest of this,” he said, sneering at the remainder of his meal.

Eying what Nureyev had left on his tray, Juno snorted. “Too good for jello and applesauce, Rex?”

“Yes,” Nureyev replied flatly.

With a chuckle, Juno picked up the applesauce pouch and opened it, eating the stuff slowly while Nureyev watched him. The detective was obviously thinking about something, and it wasn’t sitting very well on his mind either. Nureyev just wasn’t quite sure how to bring the topic up in a way that would be productive with his detective.

“Juno, darling—”

“I have to check on the cafe. It's been closed for a couple days,” Juno said suddenly, furrowing his brow down at the pouch of applesauce. “Gotta make sure it’s still in one piece.”

“I—” Nureyev started, his mouth twisting with hurt but he didn’t know what to say. Despite saying he should go, however, Juno hadn’t made any move to leave which gave Nureyev some hope. “O-of course, I understand. Could we talk before you leave, dear?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Juno asked, still pointedly looking at the pouch in his hands, and Nureyev’s frown deepened.

“Well, we can start with something small. How did disposing of the weapons go?” Nureyev asked, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“Went fine, your friend isn’t very talkative,” Juno replied, still not looking at him. “Feel like he kinda overcharged for his services, but hey, I’m not about to argue with someone twice my size. Plus, seemed kind of fitting to use Pereyra’s hush-money.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said, and the sigh escaped him before he could stop it, and he asked, “Have I done something wrong, Juno?”

“What?” Juno asked, finally meeting Nureyev’s gaze with an alarmed look.

“I mean, of course, I’m struggling to think of anything I could’ve done, given that I’ve been unconscious—”

“Rex, why the hell would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” Juno interrupted and Nureyev laughed at the question.

“You have barely looked at me since you returned and were planning to leave the moment you saw I was conscious,” Nureyev listed back at him, raising an eyebrow, trying to calm the rising panic in his gut. “So, either I’ve done something, or… I don’t know, Juno. I don’t know what else all of that could mean.”

“No, Rex, that’s not—” Juno abruptly cut himself off, and just like that, the wall came crumbling down. “I’m—I fucked up, so much, and didn’t listen to anything you said. I know you said no hospitals—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know it was really selfish of me to risk your identity—”

“My love, please—”

“—But I couldn’t just let it happen like that. And then Benten reminded me about Mick—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know Benten overheard your name, I fucked up, forgetting the comms—”

“Juno! Please,” Nureyev finally managed to get in, and Juno shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Nureyev swivelled his tray out of the way and looked at Juno. “Yes, I said I couldn’t go to the hospital, but you seem to have sufficiently worked around the issues I have with them. As for your other point, yes it was not ideal, someone else learning my name, but I’m not— you didn’t do anything wrong. It can’t be taken back now, regardless.”

“But Rex—”

“I’ve talked to Benzaiten about it already. Now answer this for me: would I have survived if you had not brought me here?” Nureyev interrupted curtly, and he could feel himself shaking as he waited for Juno’s answer.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, and his eye went glassy and wet with emotion. “No,” he replied, his voice something quiet and delicate.

“Then I’m grateful you ignored my wishes, Juno,” Nureyev said with a smile, holding his hand out to reach for Juno. “Now, please, can you just come here and lay with me?”

Juno was quick with tossing the empty pouch of applesauce in the trash and removing his boots before climbing onto the bed next to Nureyev. Juno only paused in laying down to give him a kiss, deepening it with a keening whine and a swipe of his tongue, straddling his lap carefully. The rasp of Juno’s stubble against Nureyev’s face was novel and exquisite, and he almost pulled the detective in for even more.

Then Juno pulled away with a bit of a grimace, laughing at Nureyev’s puzzled expression. “Sorry,” he laughed again, not sounding sorry at all. “Feels kinda weird with the missing teeth.”

Nureyev groaned. “I’m well aware, dear.”

Juno chuckled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can get used to it. You know, if we practice a bit,” he said suggestively, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in for another kiss. Nureyev smirked and deepened it just enough to warrant a quick nip at Juno’s lower lip as he pulled away.

“That is certainly something we can do,” he agreed, grabbing the front of Juno’s shirt and pulling him in for more.

They made out slow and easy with no sense of urgency and very little heat for some time. Juno brought his hands up to hold Nureyev’s between them, sighing happily as Nureyev licked into his mouth.

After some time passed languidly like that, Juno pulled back to grumble, “How is it you can be out cold for two days and not have just rancid morning breath?”

“They do let me out of this bed, dear detective,” Nureyev replied with a laugh. “That is actually a requirement for them to discharge me. I’ve both bathed and brushed my teeth today.”

“Right, yeah,” Juno said sheepishly. “That makes sense. So you’ll be discharged soon?”

Nureyev nodded and said, “In a few days. The wound on my back has one more round of treatment before I can resume most normal physical activity.”

Juno nodded but was startled by a very big and very loud yawn. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Rex, I’m not bored, just exhausted,” he grumbled a bit as he rubbed his eye tiredly.

Nureyev smiled sweetly at Juno, which had the detective looking at him with a wide eye and chewing on the inside of his cheek. The expression was so strange on his face, so vulnerable that Nureyev expected the shutters to be pulled any moment, but then they weren’t. Another flock of butterflies burst to flight in his stomach.

“You’re fine, darling. Come and lay down with me,” Nureyev finally said, beckoning Juno into his arms, an invitation that was immediately accepted.

Nureyev let out a contented sigh as Juno wrapped around him like an octopus, his mouth and nose pressed into his throat, against the parts of his skin that weren’t covered in bandages. Nureyev shivered at the brushing touch of Juno’s lips, at the hot breath against his neck and felt the fluttering in his gut settle as he wrapped an arm around Juno’s shoulders. Held tight in Nureyev’s arms, Juno sucked in a deep breath through his nose, seemingly holding it before slowly releasing it and burrowing deeper into the nape of his neck.

“Is everything okay, Juno?” he asked quietly, feeling his entire body relaxing with the warmth of his lover against him.

“Mm-hmm,” Juno mumbled, his voice already thick and sleepy. “I was just… just needed to check something.”

Nureyev smiled at that and turned to press his lips against the top of Juno’s head in a gentle kiss. “Juno,” he said quietly, his heart jumping when he remembered Juno’s confession again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

There was no response from the detective except for a quiet, gentle snore. Juno was sound asleep within the handful of minutes it had taken him to settle in against him, and Nureyev couldn’t have helped the smile that came to his face if he wanted to.

- - - - -

It was dark when Nureyev was woken up, and he was immediately tense. Something was wrong, and for a delirious moment he thought it was the weight holding him down that was the issue. Then the memories of the hospital, Juno returning, and both of them falling asleep together came back in a rush.

Juno twitched and let out a low groan, his fingers curled tightly into the front of Nureyev’s medical gown. He was clammy, his sweat soaking through to Nureyev’s skin, and he was shivering. Then Juno gagged, dry-heaving as he woke up and looked around wildly.

Nureyev grabbed the little bucket he had been provided by the hospital and handed it to Juno, who immediately used it with incredible enthusiasm. The whole time, Nureyev rubbed his back gently, pausing to massage the back of Juno’s neck when he was done unloading the contents of his stomach, humming quietly as the detective tried to calm his breathing. A few minutes later, after successfully staving off another bout of puking, Juno finally leaned over to place the bucket on the bedside table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned, covering his face and his voice sounded entirely too upset for Nureyev’s liking. “They come back when I’m stressed out. The nightmares, I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nureyev asked, reaching up to gently pull Juno’s hands away from his face.

Juno blinked at him as if the answer was plain as day, baffled that he would even have to ask. “I woke you up,” Juno said flatly, as if that was enough of a reason. “I woke you up, almost puked on you, and shit, I’m so sweaty—”

“Juno, dear, do you realize how low those things are on my list of priorities?” Nureyev interrupted, lifting his hands to cradle Juno’s face. “Right now, I’m worried about you, love.”

He could feel Juno’s face heat up against his palms, the detective clearly embarrassed and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. “It’s— you need your sleep, so I should go,” Juno quickly said, but before he could get up, Nureyev adjusted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head.

“What you’re going to do, Juno Steel, is go into that bathroom and use one of the toothbrushes provided by the hospital,” Nureyev said firmly, and Juno went still next to him. “Then you’re going to come back here and lay with me again.

“You don’t have to do this, Rex,” Juno whispered, and Nureyev pulled him down so he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t, Juno. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Nureyev replied, sighing as he let Juno sit back enough to meet his gaze again. “If you refuse to let me do this for you, then do as I ask for my own comfort. I’m worried about you, and would very much like to hold you.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he eventually asked and Nureyev laughed softly.

“Of course I am, darling,” he replied, pursing his lips tightly. “Now go and brush your teeth. I expect you to come right back here.”

Juno huffed a weak laugh and as he slipped off the bed, he muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Nureyev found himself a bit breathless at being called “sir” and decided that might be something for them to explore properly later.

A few minutes later, Juno crawled back onto the bed, squawking a bit when Nureyev yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. Tucking the detective in beside him, Nureyev dipped his head to capture Juno’s lips in a chaste kiss, sighing when Juno pressed up into it.

“Would it… help to talk about it?” Nureyev asked a bit haltingly when they pulled apart. He personally had very little experience with nightmares and even less with the nightmares of a loved one.

“I don’t know,” Juno replied after a bit, and he flopped down next to Nureyev, tucking his head under his chin. “They’re just about when I lost my eye.”

“Ah, I see,” Nureyev hummed, rubbing Juno’s back soothingly.

“But now you’re there,” he confessed, wrapping his arm tightly around Nureyev’s waist. “When I was so busy fussing about my aim that she got you. Keeps replaying.”

“Juno, please understand that I am incredibly grateful for you taking what time you did to aim,” Nureyev said firmly. “Also, understand that she was going to ‘get me’ whether you shot her or not.”

Juno stiffened in his arms before propping himself up to look at Nureyev’s face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure if this will be comforting to you or not,” Nureyev started, before sighing. “I felt the knife before you even lifted your blaster, Juno. It was likely her plan to stab me, and let me bleed out while she continued taunting you.”

At that, Juno sat up fully to meet Nureyev’s gaze properly. “Seriously?”

“She underestimated you, dear detective,” Nureyev replied, smiling. “She didn’t do it as some sort of last moment revenge on you. She truly believed she had won.”

“That’s…” Juno trailed off before chuckling a bit. “That actually is kind of comforting.”

“I should hope so,” Nureyev said with a laugh of his own. “You were amazing in there, and I cannot thank you enough for doing literally nothing I told you to.”

Juno laughed out loud and bent to kiss Nureyev, slow and searching before pulling away to snuggle in tight again.

“I’ve always had a problem with authority,” he joked around a yawn.

Nureyev chuckled at that and squeezed Juno against his side. Within a few minutes, Juno was asleep again and Nureyev was drifting off to join him.

- - - - -

Nureyev discharged himself from the hospital a day early. He had managed to convince Juno to go home early in the evening, and that he would come by the cafe the next day at dinnertime, so there was no need to visit him again. There was part of him that knew leaving Mars immediately was wiser, that staying was just asking to get caught again by Ramses or even Pereyra.

But Nureyev was fairly confident that the information dug up and subsequently leaked for both mayoral candidates would keep them busy for the foreseeable future, at least long enough to spend a couple more nights however he pleased.

And what he wanted most was to spend his last night on Mars with a cranky private investigator. He also had another appointment.

So he changed hotels to something fancier, though discreet with very few surveillance cameras in the halls, as the establishment catered to guests seeking a more romantic experience. They would not be watched, nor bothered, and the rooms all had incredible sound-proofing between units.

Nureyev decided he should go all out for his romantic evening with Juno, and rented the honeymoon suite. It was a corner suite on the highest floor, which would give them an almost panoramic view of Hyperion City and the surface of Mars beyond the dome through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. Just off the spacious living room through a set of double-doors was the bedroom and it’s ensuite.

Nureyev was particularly enamoured with the king-sized four-poster bed, which was on a raised platform and tucked right into the corner of windows. There were gauzy fabrics hanging from the ceiling and secured at points above the corners of the bed, though they only draped to curtain off the two sides of the bed facing into the bedroom. The gauzy fabric was lined with thousands of dots of gentle, amber lights that twinkled like stars.

The ensuite itself was massive, with a huge soaker tub and luxurious shower stall, both also situated against floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nureyev spent the better part of his afternoon chatting with the concierge about arrangements for the next evening and then, after asking her a few questions about local stores, he headed out to do some shopping.

The next day, Nureyev properly groomed himself for the first time since the heist, which had been… a bit of an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the first time he had seen himself naked for any amount of time without bandages and there was a vain part of him that cringed away from himself, that squirmed at the idea of Juno seeing him like that.

The scars on his face would be easy to hide with make-up, he decided, especially the thinner ones that decorated his cheeks and the line of his jaw. The ones on his throat would be trickier, and he cursed his lack of foresight during his shopping trip the day before. He could have gotten a nice collar or something to cover them up. He would have to use make-up until he found a more suitable alternative.

It was the mess of slashes on his chest and the electrical burn scars on his abdomen that caused him the most distress, given his penchant for revealing tops. He didn’t have much in the way of sexy clothing that would hide those, and make-up wouldn’t be ideal.

What would Juno think?

But then he remembered that Juno wore his scars, if not with pride then with defiance. What would that say to Juno, if Nureyev went to such great lengths to hide his own wounds? What would that communicate to his sensitive detective?

So with a determined sigh, Nureyev got dressed without consideration for hiding anything, putting on a black, cropped top with a plunging neckline that showed off all of the jagged scars across his chest, and if not for the corset-waisted slacks he wore, the burn scar would also have been almost completely visible.

He finished his look off with a loose braid, tied off with a black ribbon, keeping his hair quite nicely out of his face.

Nureyev looked at himself in the mirror again, and hated what he saw, but he would learn to be okay with it. If Juno could, so could Nureyev.

As he left the hotel that afternoon, he stopped by the front desk to verify that the special accommodations he set up the night before were still happening, and to inform them he was leaving for the day for their convenience.

The cab ride to his first destination was short and sweet, and Nureyev asked the driver to keep the meter running, regardless of how long it took him to return.

It did not take long, as he had been promised it wouldn’t when the specialist had visited him at the hospital. It was only thirty minutes, and he was returning to the cab with a new set of teeth. The marvels of modern medicine and cosmetic surgery had allowed him to easily and almost painlessly fix the mess the Piranha had made of his iconic smile. He even paid a little bit extra to get something a bit flashier than boring old white, going instead with something that looked like rose gold, inspired by the ear cuff Juno always wore.

In the back of the cab, Nureyev was beside himself with excitement to show Juno, bouncing his knee and drumming a beat on his thigh. By the time they reached the cafe, he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Keep the meter running again, please,” Nureyev said breathlessly to the driver, sliding out and walking into the cafe

Juno was behind the counter with Benten and Rita, the three of them chatting while Juno was balancing an empty serving tray on the tip of his finger. Juno was less rumpled—wearing a pink sweater-dress that exposed his shoulders and just enough of his collarbones to make Nureyev’s mouth water—though he still had quite a bit of stubble defining the sharp edge of his jaw.

Nureyev may have commented on the stubble at one point while he was in the hospital, perhaps in the middle of a heated make-out session with his detective. There was also the possibility that he had made a crude comment about where else he might enjoy feeling the burn of it. Juno had since been conspicuously lax on shaving, and that excited Nureyev greatly.

Juno looked over, and when he properly registered that it was indeed Nureyev he was seeing, his face lit up. It wasn’t a grin, but there was a way his face would shift when he smirked at him that felt like the entire sun was being channelled through it. Juno’s posture straightened and he grabbed the tray between both of his hands to avoid dropping it.

“They let you out early for good behaviour?” Juno asked teasingly, pushing a grumpy Benten out of the way so he could lean against the counter as Nureyev approached. “Thought you wouldn’t be here until after dinner.”

“I actually discharged myself last night to get a few things prepared. I also had an appointment today,” Nureyev said as he stopped at the counter. He placed his hands on the counter top and leaned close, grinning broadly at the detective.

The moment Juno saw the new teeth, his eye widened and the tray slipped out of his hands, clattering loudly against the counter before hitting the floor.

Benten let out a low, begrudgingly impressed whistle before turning a judgmental look on Juno.

Rita however shoved herself up as tall as she could get on the counter short of standing on it, letting out a high-pitched sound of excitement. Without hesitation, she grabbed Nureyev’s face with both hands and turned it side to side before squealing again.

“Wow, Mista Glass, that is so cool! And preeetty!” she gushed before gasping dramatically and letting go of his face. “They’re pretty-cool! Not pretty cool as in cooler than normal, boring cool, but pretty-cool as in they’re both pretty and cool because they’re cool and pretty!”

She barely paused to catch her breath before she smacked Juno’s arm with a stern look. “Mista Steel, aren’tcha gonna say something nice about Mista Glass’ new teeth?” she growled in a tone that she possibly thought was quiet, but the entire restaurant heard her.

Juno swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Uh,” he began, his voice too hoarse to continue right away, so he cleared his throat before saying, “They’re, uh, they’re really great. They l-look, uh, good.”

Nureyev took a moment to bite his bottom lip, feigning shyness to show off the teeth pressing into soft flesh. Juno’s breath left him in a quick whoosh at that, his expression taking on an even more dazed quality.

“Holy shit,” Juno whispered dreamily, quiet enough that only the three of them with him at the counter could hear.

At that, Benten pulled a face and gagged audibly. “Oh, gross. Get a room,” he groaned loudly, and Juno spluttered for a moment, successfully snapped out of his stupor.

Nureyev turned a broad grin on Benten, not missing the way Juno’s eye locked on his mouth again.

“I did, in fact, get one,” he said, and turned to look at Juno again, adding, “I’m here to collect my dear detective for the evening.”

Rita actually screamed with her delight, gaining the attention of every patron in the cafe, and abruptly turned to start pulling Juno’s apron off.

“Aw, Mista Glass, how romantic! C’mon, Mista Steel, get outta here!” she commanded, growling when Juno kept knocking her hands away.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, finally managing to get Rita to stop grabbing at his clothes. For the first time since Nureyev arrived, Juno looked unsure and Nureyev wanted to pull him into a kiss.

“I’m not really dressed for a date, Rex,” he said, and Nureyev could tell he was pulling down the back of his dress nervously. Nureyev smiled at him, feeling utterly fond of Juno in a way that was almost smothering.

“You look beautiful, radiant even, my love,” he replied and Rita made that sound of hers again, the one like a rocketship revving, while Benten groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What a line, Rex,” Benten said flatly. “Juno’s not that easy—”

“Y-yeah, okay. Yeah,” Juno interrupted, his gaze turning dreamy again as he fished the keys to the cafe out of the pocket of his dress and finished taking off his apron.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” Benten murmured, eyebrows raised as he accepted the keys from Juno. “Are you going to be home in time to open tomorrow, or should I post a sign?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev, who merely smirked at him suggestively, relishing Benten’s gag and Rita’s snickers.

“The sign might be a better idea, Ben,” Juno replied with his own little smirk before he came around the counter and followed Nureyev out.

They slid into the backseat of the cab, sitting flush together and the moment they were settled, Nureyev pulled Juno into a kiss. It was chaste, for the sake of the driver if nothing else, but he desperately wanted to deepen it. Juno, the absolute minx, tested his restraint when he dragged his pierced tongue along the seam of his lips.

However, the driver cleared his throat and Juno pulled away so quickly, Nureyev feared he might exit the vehicle entirely.

“So, where to now, Mr Rose?” the driver asked, his expression unimpressed in the rear view mirror.

Nureyev only smiled at the man’s sour look and said, “Back to the hotel, please.”

“Your hotel?” Juno asked, and when Nureyev looked at him, he was delighted to see the confused little pout.

It was obvious Juno was thinking about the seedy little hotel room he’d booked before the heist, and it was endearing that he had expected better. Nureyev smiled soothingly down at Juno, grabbing his thigh and squeezing lightly.

“Do you trust me, love?” Nureyev asked, low and quiet.

“Well, yeah,” Juno said without hesitation.

Nureyev leaned down and gave Juno a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and the detective immediately turned into it. Nureyev was almost sad that he had to pull away, lest he get carried away.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t take you to a hovel for—” he paused, realizing what he was about to say, and that it would be the first time he was saying it aloud. Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “For our last night before I leave.”

Juno’s expression faltered, becoming deeply sad before he visibly rallied himself with a small smile. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the hotel, Juno let out a low whistle and looked down at his sweater-dress and clunky leather boots. “Damn, Duke. Now I’m definitely underdressed,” he said, and while it was said as if it was a joke, it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Nureyev’s liking.

Nureyev paid the cabby handsomely for being a chauffeur and got out when the doorman opened his door. Reaching back into the cab, he helped Juno slide out with a firm grip on his hand.

“I said you looked radiant, love, and I meant it,” Nureyev soothed. “And if it worries you so much, I do have something up in the room for you to change into.”

“You bought me clothes?” Juno asked him incredulously, his face the picture of annoyance but his tone lacked all heat.

“Only a few items, love, and at quite the discount, too. A steal even,” Nureyev said cheekily, kissing the top of Juno’s head and tangling their fingers together. “So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Duke, is this… okay?” Juno asked quietly as Nureyev led him inside by their clasped hands. When Juno tucked himself in close to his side, Nureyev looked down at him and while the detective looked unsure, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“This hotel is very discreet, very few cameras,” Nureyev explained, squeezing Juno’s hand a bit. “Also, we aren’t hiding from mayors, aspiring or otherwise, nor their shared criminal bodyguard.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Juno said as an adorable smile curved his lips, and Nureyev was very nearly about to bend and kiss him senseless right there in the lobby.

“And,” Nureyev began in a lower voice as they arrived at the elevators. “The staff might think it’s odd if we walked in acting like we barely knew each other.”

“And why’s that?” Juno asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I requested a few romantic accommodations earlier,” he replied with a smirk, pausing at Juno’s shaky inhale. “And, I did rent the honeymoon suite.”

“Are you serious?” Juno asked as the elevator dinged with its arrival, his hand twitching in Nureyev’s.

“Of course I am,” Nureyev says with a winning smile as they stepped inside. Juno’s gaze, as Nureyev expected, was immediately drawn to the new teeth. “Only the best for my beautiful lady, after all.”

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Nureyev was dragged down by the front of his loose and flowy shirt, his mouth captured in a hungry kiss. Juno whined, pressing as close to Nureyev’s body as he could, tongue pressing into his mouth insistently. The sudden armful of solid detective had Nureyev stumbling back against the wall, chuckling into Juno’s mouth before meeting his tongue halfway. He allowed the kiss for a few moments before he gently pushed Juno back, grinning at the detective’s dazed expression.

“Slow down, love,” he said soothingly as the elevator slowed to a stop. When the doors reopened, Nureyev took Juno’s hand again and began to lead him down the hall. “We have all night.”

“That a promise?” Juno asked huskily, and Nureyev was shocked at how slick he felt between his legs already.

“Well, I’m certainly up for the challenge,” Nureyev replied as they arrived at the door to the suite, pulling out his key and smirking down at Juno. “And I fully expect you to stay the night this time.”

“Sounding pretty confident there, Rose,” Juno teased.

“I can be quite persuasive, I’ve been told,” Nureyev replied, beckoning Juno inside once he got the door open.

Upon seeing the suite, Juno gasped and let go of Nureyev’s hand to cross the room to the windows overlooking his city.

Nureyev took the time that Juno was distracted to survey the room for his requests and remove his gloves. There was a small table set up with a tablecloth and a beautiful flower arrangement, ready and waiting for their dinner to be delivered in the next hour or so. The monitor was on, set to a station that was playing gentle, romantic music.

Overall, he was pleased with the hotel’s work and had faith the bedroom and ensuite were to his specifications as well. Joining Juno at the windows, he looked down and his breath caught at the stunned expression on the detective’s face. Juno finally turned his gaze away to look at the suite, his eye wide.

“Nureyev,” he started, and it was that moment that Nureyev realized he hadn’t heard his name from those lips in days, a realization that almost knocked him off his feet. “This is… really nice.”

Nureyev was very suddenly unsure of his plans, whether they were the right course of action or if they were more likely to scare the detective away. Juno looked overwhelmed, his eye wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering a bit before he bit it lightly. Nureyev cupped Juno’s cheeks in both hands, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno, is this okay?” he asked, truly worried he’d gone too far.

“Yeah, jeez, sorry. This is amazing, just,” Juno said with a laugh, tilting his head into one of Nureyev’s hands and closing his eye with a watery sigh. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me.”

Not for the first time, Nureyev was overcome with the urge to hunt down and strangle the life out of every single person who had deemed themselves worthy of Juno Steel’s time. They had all swept him up and they took, and took, and took from him, not once putting in the work to deserve him, leaving Juno to tear up over the bare minimum.

Instead, Nureyev stooped to kiss Juno, deep and searching, drawing the soft little gasping moans he loved so dearly from his gorgeous detective.

“Well, then I’m glad to have been the first,” he said as they parted for air. “Dinner should be arriving in just over an hour. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom if you would like to freshen up a bit?”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out of Nureyev’s embrace. “Yeah, I’ll go do that,” he said, a bit dazed still, and when he turned to walk away, Nureyev followed him.

“You know, I’ve been running around all morning, so I think I’ll get cleaned up as well,” he said with a cheeky grin, the expression widening at Juno’s sceptical snort.

“I doubt we have time for both of us to take a shower, Nureyev,” Juno said.

“I’m sure we could think of some sort of arrangement, love,” Nureyev purred suggestively, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Juno’s face when he glanced back.

“What the hell does—” he began, but at Nureyev’s smirk, his expression went slack with realization, an expression Nureyev found as beautiful as it was priceless. “—Oh.”

Juno swallowed thickly and stammered, “Y-yeah, I mean sure—yeah, we can do that. Totally.”

Nureyev smiled wide when Juno cut himself off shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. Juno glanced at the new teeth again, and Nureyev took that moment to drag his tongue lightly across the points of them. Juno took a shuddery breath before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

The opulence of the bedroom actually tripped Juno up a bit, Nureyev running into him when he staggered to a halt with a gasp.

The curtains around the bed were freed from their tie-backs, and the twinkling lights in the billowy canopy were turned on. The gauzy fabrics obscured the view of the bed and windows beyond by quite a bit, but Nureyev did like that they wouldn’t offer complete privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Juno continued into the ensuite, only to come to an abrupt halt all over again.

The room was lit up in the gentle, amber light of the chandelier hanging above the huge round soaker tub to their left. It was set into a ledge which sat against the massive windows overlooking the city. The tub was already full of steamy water, and there was a near-solid layer of rose petals across the surface. The petals were also scattered across the edge of the tub, the window ledge, and the floor around it.

“Jeez, Nureyev. Are there any roses left in Hyperion City?” Juno all but whispered next to him, and he flushed deeply.

He had requested a romantic set-up for the evening, certainly, but he had expressed that his date would not appreciate a spectacle. The concierge had confirmed a subtle, understated romantic feel, and Nureyev shuddered at the thought of what the full romantic package would have looked like.

Nureyev turned to defend himself and saw the expression on Juno’s face. His eye was wide with wonder and delight, as well as something intense like yearning— no, it was love that overtook Juno’s expression. Nureyev was winded when he realized that Juno loved it, every part of it, right down to the floral massacre in the bathtub. The sass was an attempt at deflecting, at trying not to let on just how much he wanted it.

With a tug of their clasped hands, Nureyev spun Juno into his embrace and dipped down for a searching kiss, hands twisting in the knit of Juno’s dress. Juno whined and opened for him, pushing up onto his toes with his hands holding Nureyev’s biceps. They stood flush together, mouths moving slow and perfect, and Nureyev sighed when Juno’s tongue pressed against his own, the piercings sending a thrill through him.

Nureyev pulled back to catch his breath, and Juno tipped back onto his heels to stare up at him, dazed and smiling. He took in the face of his detective, his gaze lingering on the plain black eyepatch for a few moments before lifting a hand questioningly. It wasn’t even particularly important to him if Juno wore the eyepatch or not—that was Juno’s decision, and his decision only. Nureyev only figured that it would be an inconvenient obstacle in the bath.

Juno sucked in a sharp breath as Nureyev’s fingers lightly touched the eyepatch, and Nureyev waited for a sign to continue or back off. There was a beat before Juno gave him a quick nod, and Nureyev slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the vanity.

Turning back to his detective, Nureyev took in the full view of Juno’s face for the first time since meeting him.

Nureyev found himself surprised to see that Juno still had his natural eye. For whatever reason, he had expected the eye to have been completely removed, but that was not the case.

“They were able to save the eye itself,” Juno muttered quietly, tensely as if hearing Nureyev’s thoughts. “Couldn’t get the vision back.”

Nureyev nodded with a comforting smile and looked his face over, really taking it in and cataloging each new thing.

There were three very distinct scars running vertically over the eyelid. Two of them were quite shallow and short, just enough to have drawn blood and cause pain, but minimal permanent damage. The third, however, was deep and jagged, starting just under Juno’s brow and ending just about his cheekbone. While the eye itself had been salvaged, it was murky where the scarring and blood vessels had formed over the damaged iris and pupil.

The injury would have been brutal, the pain immense, and for a moment Nureyev was deeply disappointed that the Piranha had been given a quick execution.

Juno’s breathing quickened as Nureyev took his time, his eyes glancing down before he began to turn away, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev made a small sound, a gentle tsk as he cupped Juno’s jaw with both hands and turned him back to meet his gaze. The detective was shaking, waiting for Nureyev’s reaction and it was obvious he expected the worst.

And Nureyev wasn’t sure he could blame Juno; if anything Piranha had said about this supposed fiance of Juno’s was true, he had every reason to fear such vulnerability.

Slowly, Nureyev bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss to Juno’s cheekbone, waiting out the bout of shuddering breaths. The moment Juno released a soft sigh, and the tension leaked out of his shoulders, he moved his lips to the corner of his eye. There he waited again, humming happily when Juno almost immediately tilted his head back, and leaned his body closer to Nureyev.

Nureyev dropped a hand to wrap around Juno’s back to hold him firmly, soothingly, and gently brushed a gentle, barely-there kiss to Juno’s scarred eyelid.

“You’re gorgeous, my love,” Nureyev breathed, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids with the ferocity of his emotions for Juno. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Juno made a soft, almost wounded sound before he tipped his head back and surged up onto his toes to capture Nureyev’s lips again. With a happy sigh, Nureyev gathered Juno up into his arms, pressing closer and deeper, wanting to taste and feel Juno as much and as quickly as possible. He was overwhelmed by the way the detective clung and squirmed against him, making soft and desperate sounds against his tongue.

Nureyev pulled back with a groan and dropped his mouth to Juno’s shoulder, exposed as it was with the open panels of his dress, and bit it lightly. Juno gasped, tipping his head back with a shudder, and Nureyev let go to place an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, lapping at it soothingly as Juno let out a sob.

He startled at the metallic tang of blood and pulled back to check on Juno. There were two cuts, each tiny enough to have stopped bleeding already, but Nureyev still cursed himself under his breath for being reckless.

“I’m sorry about that, my love,” he said sheepishly, kissing the spot soothingly again. “These new teeth are quite sharp.”

“Yeah, they are,” Juno sighed dreamily, and when Nureyev properly looked at him, the detective appeared perfectly blissed out. “They’re amazing.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, are they?” he asked with a smirk, and at Juno’s rare, unrestrained grin, Nureyev pressed in for another searching kiss.

- - - - -

They sat in the bathtub for some time, slowly making out while they caught their breath after their impromptu romp. Nureyev was floating above the clouds it seemed, weightless and blissed-out with his lady in his lap and in his arms.

Juno made a small sound in his throat at one particularly languid pass of Nureyev’s tongue and squirmed against him. Heat was building again, and Nureyev was happy to be swept away by it again. He knew there was a reason not to, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it when Juno shifted to straddle his lap, sitting flush to his front and playing with his tits idly.

“The hell was that?”

Nureyev actually whined when Juno wrenched away from his mouth, and he chased after the kiss. His lips found Juno’s throat instead, which was perfectly fine for him.

“Duke, knock it off, I heard something!” Juno hissed and that caught Nureyev’s attention.

Pulling away, Nureyev and Juno sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of movement in the living room. At a sound that was clearly the clinking of cutlery and crystal, Nureyev cringed.

“That is likely the serving staff,” he said slowly, tipping his head back against the cushioned lip of the tub and closing his eyes. “Delivering our food.”

“Duke… did you close any of the doors coming in here?” Juno asked quietly, drawing the question out and pulling a chuckle from Nureyev.

“I did not,” he confessed. “I foolishly had not planned for us to have… appetizers, so to speak.”

“So they heard at least some of that?”

There was something odd in Juno’s tone, and Nureyev opened his eyes again to meet his gaze, worried that Juno was upset. “It’s entirely likely,” he replied carefully.

Nureyev did not miss the look of intense interest that crossed Juno’s face, and he was a little shocked that the detective would be inclined toward a bit of exhibitionism. Then again, he thought, Juno had been the one to wear fancy lingerie to work under a sweater-dress that barely covered his ass. Excitement pulsed through Nureyev at the thought of Juno wanting to show off a bit, about taking Juno where they might get caught, where they could be heard and possibly seen.

He quickly filed that away, however, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he got too hot again.

“Perhaps we should wash up while we wait for them to leave?” Nureyev suggested, and Juno nodded quickly, smiling openly at the thief.

They took their time wiping each other down, slowly kissing while they did. Nureyev paid special attention to Juno, keeping his touches light and chaste, though their intent for later were quite clear. Juno leaned heavily against him, accepting the pampering with a sigh while he mouthed at Nureyev’s pulse.

When they had finished up, Nureyev cradled Juno’s cheek gently and smiled lightly when their gazes met again. Juno leaned forward with a sigh, and Nureyev happily accepted the slow, sweet kiss, wrapping his detective in his arms loosely. It was utterly perfect, and Nureyev almost cursed when the noises from the living room quieted and they heard the door to the hallway close.

“I think it is safe to get out now, dear,” he murmured against Juno’s lips, gently pushing him away and encouraging him to stand up.

Juno grumbled as he did, unclipping the collar of his harness and peeling it off of himself. Nureyev watched Juno move around the bathroom in all of his naked glory with an appreciative eye as he got out of the tub.

“I have something else for you to wear this evening,” Nureyev said as Juno moved to grab his sweater-dress off the ground, touching his arm lightly and smiling when the detective looked up at him questioningly. “It’s in the closet just inside the room. I’ll meet you at the dinner table.”

Juno blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the gentle commands, and nodded as he returned the smile.

Nureyev watched the detective leave before he turned to the cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept his own outfit for the evening.

It could hardly be called an “outfit,” though.

After seeing Juno in his harness on their first date, Nureyev simply had to get his own, a sleek black and gold number that had straps and the gold detailing all the way down to mid-thigh. The embroidered design decorated his abdomen with a chevron that ended just below his sternum, framing his pelvis along the outside edge of the piercings lining his hips.

Over the harness, Nureyev pulled on a short, sheer black robe which tied shut at the waist with a thick black ribbon. The entire back of the robe was lace and completely see-through, showing off all of the straps of his harness where they hugged his pale skin.

Slipping his glasses back onto his face, Nureyev looked around the room and made a face at the smudges, huffing with some annoyance. He picked his pants up off the floor and dug for the cloth he kept specially for cleaning them, cursing his hoarding tendencies for the first time in his decades-long career. After a few too many moments of struggling, Nureyev made a small sound of triumph when his fingers finally closed around the little scrap of material.

Wiping his glasses clean and putting them back on, he completed the ensemble with a pair of black silk slippers. Then, fixing his braid, Nureyev walked out to the living room to join his lover.

Nureyev was nearly winded at the sight of Juno as he stood by the windows and looked out over Hyperion City in the long, sleeveless robe Nureyev had bought him. The fabric was gauzy and pale pink, sheer enough to see the outline of Juno’s legs through it with the neon of the city shining in on him.

Juno must have heard him and turned around a bit with a warm smile. Nureyev could see a hint of the new harness he procured for Juno through the V of the robe, pink and cream flowers decorating his chest and ending in a pretty collar of flowers at the base of his throat. The robe itself was tied by three delicate ribbons at the thick panel of pink and blue flowery lace just above Juno’s natural waist.

Nureyev wanted nothing more than to untie those little ribbons and devour Juno.

When he finally snapped himself out of his own thoughts, he realized Juno was staring. Their gazes met in the next moment and they both swallowed thickly. Juno’s expression was so beautiful, full of want and love, that Nureyev was ready to forgo every plan he had to leave the next day and stay.

Juno cleared his throat and he glanced away. “The hell do you have such long legs for, Nureyev?” Juno asked, his tone so offended and accusatory that Nureyev couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“And why are yours so thick and enticing?” the thief countered, looking pointedly at where he could see Juno’s gorgeous thighs through the opening of his robe.

Juno merely bit the inside of his cheek, and the smirk he wore was tinged with something distinctly pleased.

Nureyev motioned at the table set with their dinner and asked, “Care to join me, dear?”

Juno smirked and crossed the room. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teased and sat down.

Their dinner was quite lovely, filled with casual chatter, laughter, and more than a few glasses of champagne. Juno looked so happy and relaxed across from him, smiling and laughing openly. Nureyev couldn’t help but watch him dreamily as he animatedly told a story from his childhood.

Juno looked so beautiful in the dim, amber lighting of the living room, and Nureyev’s heart ached with the weight of knowing he could not keep him.

Nureyev remembered the pleading “I love you’s” from the sewers as Juno ended his story, and he placed his glass on the table.

“Juno, I distinctly remember I had asked you to accompany me to a gala,” Nureyev started, drawing it out only in part to enjoy the way Juno pouted. “I had done so with the hope that I would have the honour of dancing with you.”

Juno cringed. “Yeah?”

Nureyev nodded and stood, his gut churning with anxiety about what he was about to do for the first time that evening. Offering his hand to Juno, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

“Here?” Juno asked, biting the inside of his cheek. “Now?”

“There’s music, there’s space, and there’s two of us,” Nureyev replied, smiling winningly down at Juno, even as his stomach roiled. He was only comforted a small amount by Juno’s hungry look at his new teeth. “So why not here? Why not now?”

Juno made a face of mock disapproval, but accepted the offered hand and allowed Nureyev to tug him in close. They were hardly dancing, only holding each other and gently rocking, but for Nureyev it was perfect. When he looked down at the detective, he could see tears in Juno’s eyes, belying once again just how much he loved it. It only took a few slow turns for Juno to melt completely against Nureyev with a sigh, resting his ear against the thief’s chest.

They danced together quietly while Nureyev contemplated how best to bring up what he heard in the sewers. He didn’t want to scare Juno off, but Nureyev couldn’t leave Mars without telling the beautiful detective the depths of his own feelings.

“Juno, I wanted to ask you about something,” Nureyev started tentatively, and frowned when Juno tensed in his arms.

“Mm-hmm?” Juno prompted, and Nureyev really wished he’d started this when he could see the detective’s face.

“Well, it’s more I would like to tell you something, but,” he babbled a bit nervously before he took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to help calm him, and said, “I remember hearing you say something in the sewers before I passed out.”

Juno went rigid and pulled back, though they did not pause in their dance. Nureyev’s stomach twisted when he realized that Juno had that unreadable expression on his face that he’d only seen once before.

When he had told him his name and confessed to working for the people who ruined his life.

“You do?” Juno asked, his voice flat and Nureyev realized too late he had brought it up all wrong and began scrambling internally for the words to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Nureyev said after taking a deep breath. “I was still lucid enough to hear you, when you said you lo—”

“Shit, I didn’t—” Juno hissed, pulling out of the embrace, and Nureyev let him. Then he growled at himself, “Shit, Steel, there you go ruining things again.”

Nureyev stepped forward and gently grabbed Juno’s hand. “Juno, just let me finish—”

Juno wrenched his hand away and looked around the room. His expression was so intensely sad for just a second that Nureyev felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Then the shutters behind Juno’s gaze slammed down, and when Juno’s eyes met his again, he saw anger.

“I always do this, get too attached, too soon and then—” Juno muttered, mostly to himself before cutting off with a bitter laugh and eye-roll. “That’s why you did this, isn’t it?”

“Well, the short answer is yes, Juno, but—”

“All of this, it’s all just a joke. Or I’m an easy lay until you find the next stupid sap on some other stupid planet who’ll spread their legs for you,” Juno spat, but then his expression changed, filling with something like humiliation. “Or worse, you felt bad.”

“Juno, please—” Nureyev began, reaching for the detective again, frustration building in him when Juno stepped away from him. For how intelligent and logical he knew Juno to be most of the time, Nureyev was genuinely surprised by his commitment to jumping to the worst possible conclusions if the truth meant happiness for him.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Juno cut him off again, and though he worded it like a question, it was spoken as an accusation with such bitter anger that Nureyev almost flinched. “You feel bad for me because I was stupid enough to fall in lo— fall for you in two weeks like some fucking teenager. About what the Piranha said about my ex. About my eye. All of it.”

Nureyev’s thoughts were swirling as he felt everything falling apart. He loved Juno deeply and fully, and he had desperately needed him to know it, but now their last few hours together were unravelling because he tried to say it. He berated himself for his impulsiveness, for jumping the gun and breaking the fragile truce he’d come to with Juno’s sense of self-worth.

He wanted to drop it and ask Juno to forget he had said anything, but the longer Nureyev said nothing, the surer Juno became in his conviction.

Tears brimmed Juno’s eyes when Nureyev met his gaze again for just a moment before he strengthened his glare.

“Admit it, Nureyev,” Juno demanded, crossing his arms over his middle.

Nureyev reached forward to grab Juno’s hand with both of his and held tight when the detective tried to pull it away again. “Juno, I promise—”

“Just admit it, Nureyev!” Juno all but growled, fighting the grip on his hand.

“You won’t even allow me a word in edgewise, Juno, even for that much!” Nureyev snapped, not quite yelling but close to it, and Juno’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Nureyev softened, pulling Juno closer and cradling his jaw gently in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. He held tight when Juno made a half-hearted attempt at breaking free, and after a few moments Juno’s breath left him in whoosh.

When the detective relaxed almost completely against him, Nureyev felt hopeful that he could turn this evening around for both of them.

“You are so clever, so good, and absolutely gorgeous, Juno,” Nureyev said fondly. “You are also frustratingly committed to self-sabotage, love.”

Juno pulled a face, and he looked almost embarrassed. “What the—”

“No, I’m talking now, detective,” Nureyev said sternly, and Juno instantly closed his mouth again. “Do you truly believe I would do all of this for you as a… a pity fuck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Nureyev,” Juno snapped. “Had a guy almost marry me, and it turned out he only stuck around as long as he did because he felt bad for me.”

Nureyev felt rage wash over him at that, wanting to know the name and last known location of Juno’s former fiance. Perhaps this was information he could get from Benten or Rita before he left, he thought briefly but dismissed it in favour of focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Juno, I would never do that to you,” he said instead, tone gentle and earnest. “This isn’t a pity fuck, I’m not using you, I’m— if you wanted to leave right now, I wouldn’t stop you. You could walk right out that door, and that would be the end of it. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like Juno would actually pull away and get changed. Nureyev was prepared to stand by his promise, but he felt gutted at the mere thought of having to.

Then Juno sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to lean into Nureyev’s palm, and asked so quietly Nureyev almost couldn’t hear him over the music, “What the hell else is this, then?”

Nureyev lifted his other hand to cradle his face in both, lifting Juno’s gaze to his own again. “I’ve done all of this—the room, the clothes, the dinner—as well as given you my name, Juno, because,” Nureyev paused to take a deep breath, “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you as well.”

Juno sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, a tear falling as he quietly asked, “W-what?”

Nureyev wiped the tear away with this thumb with a gentle smile. “I love you, Juno. I thought that much was obvious since our first night, but I suppose you could benefit from hearing it being said.”

“B-but you— that— you barely know me,” he stammered, trying to look away but Nureyev held fast.

“You know even less about me, Juno,” Nureyev pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Yet you love me?”

“That’s different,” he said stubbornly, and Nureyev’s heart broke.

“How is it different, Juno?” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that, help me to understand it.”

Juno let out a gusty sigh and his eyes teared up even more. Seeing both eyes—one a deep blue and the other murky white—glassy with unshed tears had rage boiling in his gut all over again. He wanted to hurt every single person who taught someone as beautiful, and good, and caring as Juno to feel shame and guilt for being told he was loved.

And suddenly Nureyev understood why Juno couldn’t readily accept his confession; Juno saw himself as inherently unworthy of love and affection while giving himself completely to everyone, hoping they would finally see he had something to offer. That was where it made sense to Juno that he could fall in love with someone he barely knew, but those feelings could not be reciprocated.

“It’s just different,” Juno repeated firmly and with such finality that Nureyev knew he couldn’t push for a proper answer without damaging something between them beyond repair.

So Nureyev stepped closer to Juno instead, their bodies pressed flush together again. “Do you trust me, Juno?” he asked, stroking both of the detective’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Yes,” Juno said without hesitation.

“Do you trust that I wouldn’t lie about something important?” he asked, and when Juno’s expression twisted, he added, “If we were having any other conversation right now, would you trust I was being honest with all of the important details?”

“Yeah,” Juno answered quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Then allow me to put things into perspective for you,” Nureyev said earnestly, meeting Juno’s gaze and holding it. “You are the first person to have learned my real name with my consent in twenty years.”

Juno took a shaky breath, and though his expression was still sceptical, it was also so soft. Nureyev could see that Juno wanted to believe everything, that he wanted to accept what he was offering, so Nureyev continued.

“Do you think a master thief would have risked courting you the way I had just for fun?” Nureyev asked, and did not wait for Juno to respond before he wrapped an arm around his waist. “I have given you the key to a past I’ve tried to bury, as well as the very thread that could unravel my entire career for the past twenty years.”

Juno looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he lifted a hand to cover Nureyev’s still cradling his cheek.

“Look me in the eye and tell me none of that means anything, Juno,” Nureyev offered, and shivered when Juno closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to press his lips to the middle of his palm. “I wouldn’t give any of that to just anyone, Juno.”

Juno was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes closed and breathing softly against Nureyev’s palm. Eventually, the detective sighed and kissed him gently before turning to meet Nureyev’s gaze.

“You’re about to sign up for one hell of a time trying to convince me, Nureyev,” Juno said lightly, and though it was said as a joke, Nureyev could tell he was also completely serious.

Nureyev smiled broadly and stooped to kiss Juno, sweet and chaste.

“Then I gladly accept that challenge, starting tonight,” Nureyev said against Juno’s lips before kissing his way up his cheek, taking a small detour to press a light kiss just below Juno’s right eye. He finished his journey at the hinge of Juno’s jaw and whispered, “I love you, Juno Steel.”

Juno exhaled sharply and sobbed, angling his mouth up for the searching, needy kiss Nureyev had for him.

“I love you…” Juno whispered when they pulled apart for air, and very quietly, almost reluctantly, he added, “Too. I love you, too.”

The quiet concession, even if it was clear he didn’t quite believe it but was willing to try, made Nureyev’s heart pound and butterflies burst to life in his gut. Just hearing those three words again, this time when he was meant to hear them and he wasn’t knocking on Death’s door, brought tears to Nureyev’s eyes.

It was at that moment when Nureyev realized, or allowed himself to realize, that he hadn’t let himself get close enough to anyone since Mag to be loved. He kept himself unreachable and unknowable for twenty years, leaving Mag as the last person to have said they loved him and meant it.

Several moments of heart-stopping terror followed that revelation, and Nureyev wanted to run from it. He did the calculations instantly; he knew the flight schedule for every ship off of Mars by heart for the next week and a half, and with a good distraction, he could catch one within the hour. His fingers itched for his comms and he instinctively began to slip out of Juno’s arms, pretty words and a prettier lie already on the tip of his tongue.

Juno pulled him in tighter, however, clinging to him as he brought their lips together again, and Nureyev was shaken from his thoughts.

“Shit,” Juno all but sobbed against his lips, laughing wetly as tears fell down his cheeks. “I love you, Nureyev.”

Just like that, Nureyev dumped every contingency plan and escape route he had drawn up. There Juno was, giving him everything he had, and Nureyev was thinking of leaving him with nothing. Master thief though he may be, Nureyev was determined to not become one of the people to steal Juno’s heart. He would make a fair trade for it, give himself to Juno, and share the heartbreak of their parting.

Nureyev recognized the desire to run, to leave and never look back, but he knew that he would never be able to compartmentalize his love for Juno.

At Juno’s shivery whine, Nureyev hauled him up into his arms and groaned when Juno’s legs locked around his waist. With one arm around Juno’s waist, and his other hand holding his thigh, Nureyev stumbled in the direction of the bedroom. Juno’s hands were in his hair, messing his braid up and pulling on the freed strands, and Nureyev couldn’t help the soft, needy sounds he was making. Losing focus and rapidly losing his balance, Nureyev stopped just outside the bedroom, and pinned Juno against the wall next to the double-doors, licking deep into Juno’s mouth while he slid his hand up to grope at his ass.

When Juno turned his face away to catch his breath, Nureyev latched onto his throat, kissing, biting, and licking the length of it, paying extra attention to the underside of his jaw when Juno’s cries grew higher in pitch.

“N’reyev, the bed,” Juno whimpered and Nureyev moaned his agreement into the bruise he had just worried into Juno’s skin.

After a few more stumbling moments and close calls, Nureyev found the bed, which was tall enough that Juno was almost sitting on it already when he let him go. As he stepped back a couple paces, Juno looked up at him with eyes still glassy with unshed tears, but the softest smile Nureyev had ever seen on his face. Juno reached out to hold Nureyev’s hand, as if needing some sort of physical contact and Nureyev could understand.

Stroking the back of Juno’s hand with this thumb, Nureyev asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?”

With a shiver, Juno shifted onto his knees to undo the belt of Nureyev’s robe and admired the view as it fell open. Nureyev shuddered a bit as the silky material slipped down his arms and pooled around his feet. Juno pressed in for another kiss, wrapping one arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and walking the other down his stomach teasingly.

“Think it’s pretty obvious what I want, Nureyev,” Juno replied cheekily as his fingers reached his lower abdomen.

“Use your words, dear,” Nureyev scolded lightly, grabbing Juno’s wrist gently. “Or you get nothing at all.”

Juno huffed, but it had no heat to it. Nureyev did not doubt that Juno was a bit frustrated—used to being tipped over and tumbled without ceremony as he was—but he also knew Juno thoroughly enjoyed being told what to do.

“Do I have to do this every time?” Juno asked with a pout.

“With me?” Nureyev replied with a chuckle, stooping to kiss Juno’s cheek. “Yes.”

Juno shivered and nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before he pressed up against Nureyev, both arms around his shoulders as he untied the ribbon holding Nureyev’s braid together.

“I-I want you to fuck me into this mattress until the neighbours complain,” Juno whispered in a bit of a rush, and Nureyev’s breath hitched.

“The sound-proofing in this hotel is almost absolute, dear detective,” Nureyev responded huskily.

Juno laughed lightly before looking up at Nureyev coyly through his lashes. “I’m sure it is,” he said softly and deliberately.

Nureyev groaned and recaptured Juno’s lips, bringing both hands up to cradle the back of his head and keep him there while he kissed the breath from his lungs.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Nureyev all but growled between kisses and swallowed Juno’s excited laugh.

- - - - -

Nureyev worked to catch his breath, his arm slung around Juno’s waist so he could run his hand up and down his back soothingly. Occasionally, he would sweep his palm further to massage the muscled thigh thrown over his hip.

“Are you okay, love?” Nureyev asked around a yawn when Juno stretched with a bit of a pained sound.

“Yeah, I’m golden,” Juno said softly with a dreamy sigh, nuzzling his forehead against Nureyev’s chest before meeting his gaze with a blissed-out smile. “I’m perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my love,” Nureyev hummed, stealing a chaste kiss from Juno before saying, “We should wash up before bed, though.”

Juno groaned and snuggled in closer, shaking his head with a little hmph. “Don’wanna,” he mumbled petulantly.

Nureyev laughed, just as disinterested in the prospect of getting up, but there were some general hygiene items they needed to take care of. “Come along, love, up we get,” Nureyev said, sitting up and giving Juno’s ass a sharp slap.

“Babe, if you want me out of this bed, you better knock that off,” Juno teased with a sexy sprawl, but the effect was lost when he yawned hugely.

“No offense, dear, but I don’t think either of us have the stamina to make good on any threats like that,” Nureyev laughed, and eventually dragged Juno out of the bed and into the ensuite.

The shower stall was ridiculous in its size, and set in the bathroom so one of it’s walls was just windows. The windows in the shower weren’t quite floor to ceiling, and had a tiled ledge that was about half a foot tall. There was also a safety bar that travelled along the window. The spray of the shower came from a fixture right above them, the water coming down like a perfect, warm rain. It reminded Nureyev of a rain storm he had found himself caught in the one time he had gone to earth, and Juno hummed thoughtfully when he told him as much.

Neither of them was particularly keen on turning on the lights, so they showered by the lights of the city coming through the window. Juno was looking down at Hyperion City, his city, with his hands resting on the safety bar while Nureyev lathered up a plush washcloth and began wiping his body down.

Standing flush behind Juno, Nureyev wrapped an arm around his shoulder and chest, holding him tenderly as he washed his stomach and lower. With a contented hum, he pressed a kiss to the hinge of Juno’s jaw and frowned when the detective sighed a touch too wistful for Nureyev’s comfort.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked before mouthing at Juno’s throat.

“What if you could stay?” Juno asked, his tone flat but curious.

Nureyev hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a thoughtful hum. “The honest one.”

“That would be the only one I would give you, dear detective. You’re too important and too smart for any of the others,” Nureyev sighed, and he couldn’t help the teasingly bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno snorted, and Nureyev could hear the eye-roll. “You’re deflecting.”

“We would be happy for a bit, I think— No, I know we would be happy, at first that is. Then I would get bored,” he confessed in a sigh against Juno’s ear, and when he felt Juno tense in his arms, he added quickly, “Not of you, my love. Never of you. But I would go mad sitting still. Doing busywork.”

Juno chuckled, as if laughing at some private joke, but the humour didn’t quite reach it.

“Like a caged fox. Or something,” Juno supplied, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

“Exactly,” Nureyev replied quietly, a sad smile of his own twisting his mouth. “And if you could come with me?”

Though he couldn’t see Juno’s face completely, Nureyev could tell there were tears in his eyes with the way he bit his lower lip.

“I… I would be miserable without Benten and Rita,” he admitted, his voice watery. He lifted his hand to wipe a tear that fell away and Nureyev’s heart broke. “I don’t think I’d be happy without them at all, even in the beginning. I’m sorry—”

Nureyev turned Juno around and kissed him soundly, sighing when Juno opened for him readily. There was no way to measure who would hurt the most when it came time for Nureyev to leave, the one who could stay and would hate it, or the one who could leave but would suffer. But they didn’t have to think about that tonight.

Nureyev just wished they didn’t have to think about it at all.

“Don’t apologize, Juno,” Nureyev whispered when he pulled back to finish washing them up. “I understand.”

A short time later, they slipped back into the bed, still damp and naked from their shower. Nureyev propped himself over Juno, kissing him breathless with lazy and slow motions. With a contented noise, Juno kissed his way to the line of Nureyev’s jaw, lips pausing over the raised line of the new scar there. Nureyev shivered a bit when Juno pressed his fingers against his chest, gently feeling the jagged lines before sliding down to press his whole palm to the burn on his abdomen.

When he didn’t move his hand any further, Nureyev pulled back to look at Juno’s face.

Juno was thoughtful, looking down at the lines of his scars, stroking the burn gently with a furrowed brow. Nureyev reached up to brush his thumb across Juno’s cheekbone, below his blinded eye. The detective almost flinched away as if the touch burned before he settled and leaned into the touch.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Nureyev asked, dropping a soft kiss just below his eye.

Juno shivered under the gentle affection with a little sigh. “Are you going to get your scars reduced?” Juno asked after a bit, scrunching his face up adorably when Nureyev moved his lips to the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Why would I?” Nureyev asked, pulling back and meeting Juno’s gaze.

The detective shrugged, glancing away and chewing his cheek. “Your whole anonymity thing?” Juno offered in a quiet mumble. There was obviously more to that thought, but Nureyev wouldn’t pry.

“Going under for surgery is risky, so I typically avoid doing so outside of emergencies,” Nureyev replied with a small smile. “I’ll simply cover them as needed if I must.”

Juno hummed at that, nodding and moved his gaze away to look at the jagged lines that criss-crossed his throat.

“Besides,” Nureyev continued, lowering himself to lay his full weight against Juno, his legs straddling his thick thighs. He gave Juno’s eye another soft kiss, and said, “I find scars to be quite… sexy.”

“Of course, you do,” Juno said with a snort.

“I do,” Nureyev replied seriously, figuring Juno didn’t have to know how much he hated the scars at the moment, and coaxed Juno into a searching kiss.

Juno didn’t respond as readily as he had expected, so Nureyev pulled back and met his eyes again. The detective was still pensive and even a bit sceptical, which was far too serious for Nureyev’s liking.

“Juno, darling,” he prompted gently. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong, just thinking,” Juno said almost flippantly, but he seemed to realize he was dismissing and deflecting. With a sigh he said, “I don’t… believe you when you say the scars don’t bother you, but that’s not— You didn’t— I get it, if you didn’t like them. They’re ugly—”

“They’re not ugly,” Nureyev interrupted firmly, and Juno glared a bit up at him. “If we’re to have these sorts of talks, dear, we should keep this… negative self-talk to a minimum.”

Juno snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Juno conceded and took a deep breath. “My ex wanted me to get mine fixed, or reduced, or whatever. He was really pushy about it, and wanted me to get a fake eye, too. Even just a basic glass one. Nothing fancy.”

“But you didn’t,” Nureyev encouraged.

“Well, obviously. I didn’t want to spend Pereyra’s hush money, and I just… didn’t want another surgery,” Juno said quietly. “I didn’t really get that it was such a big deal for him until he— until I ended things. Or, when he left.”

“Do you know why it was such a big issue with him?” Nureyev asked, even as he planned the very painful way he would dispatch the bastard. When Juno raised his eyebrow at him sceptically, it hit him instantly.

Juno had looked like Benten, until he lost his eye.

“It’s the past, and it should stay there,” Juno replied eventually, and hummed when Nureyev drew him into a gentle press of lips.

“I will be honest with you, Juno; I hate my scars, as they are right now,” Nureyev confessed when he pulled away, smiling weakly at Juno’s curious expression. “Perhaps once they’re less fresh, I will find them more tolerable, but I was considering covering them up before meeting with you tonight.”

“Why didn’t you?” Juno asked.

“Because of you, honestly,” Nureyev said, smiling openly at Juno. “I thought of you, and how beautiful I believe you to be, and your scars are part of that.”

“Jeez, Nureyev,” Juno huffed, glancing away bashfully and chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”

“All of it is the truth, my love,” Nureyev sighed with a grin. “I just can’t believe no one else had figured it out as well.”

“Well,” Juno started with a shrug, “I got you out of it, didn’t I?”

“I was avoiding celebrating decades of people being incredibly stupid and cruel to you, dear,” he chastised lightly, pulling a laugh from Juno.

“Go ahead and celebrate. I mean, I am,” Juno said, accepting another kiss with a quiet moan.

“Are you?” Nureyev asked teasingly, their lips still pressed tightly together.

“Little bit,” Juno sighed and Nureyev laughed, deepening the kiss.

Nureyev kept it up until Juno began faltering in returning the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. The detective would shake himself awake every time his mouth fell slack under Nureyev’s, returning the kisses with renewed fervor and enthusiasm, hands finding their way into his hair to ground himself.

Eventually though, when Juno drifted off, Nureyev pulled away and let him sleep.

Nureyev laid next to Juno for a while, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully, partially lit up by the city beyond the windows. The next day, he knew he would have to leave, but he thanked every entity from every planet orbiting every star that must have answered whatever secret prayer he had whispered.

Juno Steel was such a gift he didn’t deserve, it had to have been divine intervention.

With a sigh and one last chaste kiss to Juno’s cheek, Nureyev lowered his head to his own pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.

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#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

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kyouminaine · 4 years

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Height Discrepancies

I was talking with a friend about the discrepancies between different translations and data over the years on character heights, ages, etc. This is especially prevalent between OG (original game) and 7R (Remake). It’s been stuck to my mind lately, so I decided to ramble on it a little bit.

Frankly it all started with Cloud. I’ve always seen Cloud to be 5′7″ (170cm) but I’ve seen people argue it is 5′8″ instead. When I checked recently, there were some sources that said it was actually 5.7ft. That converts to 173.7cm, which... isn’t 5′8″ (172.7cm). Tbh I hate conversions; there’s no clean way to convert between metric and imperial.

But I digress. What I’m actually trying to get at is that Sephiroth’s height is definitely wrong. “Officially” - and I use this term warily because that was the height presumed in the initial English guidebook and not solidly confirmed in the original Japanese material; his profile is heavily redacted - his height is labeled as 6′1″ (185.4cm).

If I use Cloud’s height at 5′7″ (which is a nice even number in centimeters, making it easy for comparison) and Seph at 6′1″ then we get this on a comparison chart:

That’s definitely not how it is depicted in 7R. Hell, even in the other games this was completely off. Look at Crisis Core.

Now, if we want a second comparison then let’s choose Aerith. Across the board, her height is labeled as 5′3″ (160cm). Comparing her to Sephiroth at 6′1″, we get this:

There’s no in-game screenshot of Aerith and Sephiroth standing in any of the other games of the Compilation, and polygons are hardly a good reference from the original game, so here is a screenshot of the two of them in 7R:

She doesn’t come up to his shoulder. (And no, I’m not going to allow the argument of his giant shoulder pads; use your basic sense of anatomy and figure out where his shoulder actually is.) According to the size chart, she should be able to stand just under his chin. Which once more brings up the question: just how tall is Sephiroth?

If we compare Aerith to Cloud just to cross reference and say that Cloud is 5′7″ / 170 cm then we have this:

And if we take one of the cutscenes in 7R of them together with Tifa, that’s about right:

I found this a convenient screenshot due to the piping in the background that serves as an impromptu means of measuring height. Now once more, a size chart to compare all three. (Tifa is considered to be 5′5″/165cm, though some may say she’s closer to 5′4″ instead. Yet another inconsistency...)

The black line represents the top pipe in the screenshot. At least by this comparison I can comfortably stick with the information stating Cloud is 5 foot seven, not five point seven.

Going back to the issue about Sephiroth’s height, I’m going to compare Cloud and Sephiroth again but at a height that’s probably more accurate than what the Western audiences - and this may possibly be a global issue - have come to accept as “official.” Speaking with a friend on this, it feels fairly reasonable to assign this height to him:

Yes, 6′5″ is the height we chose, which especially comes through what is seen in 7R. The cutscenes and in-game visuals we get really put an emphasis on Sephiroth’s height, which makes this headcanon feel more grounded.

As a small disclaimer, when Cloud is in the same scene as Sephiroth, a lot of the angles aren’t level; it’s always from below or above. Lots of close-ups of eyes and lips and hands. Even in in-game scenes, like the final battle, Cloud isn’t standing up completely. He’s got a slight crouch and wider stance due to the Buster Sword.

I’ve tried to pick a couple shots from cutscenes that give an okay comparison of their heights. They’re not the best, but they’re what I found:

This last one doesn’t show Sephiroth so much as a piece of his armor, which I’d like to give a quick reference to one of the many scenes focusing on his chest:

Taking note of the design on the double shoulder pads, and then comparing to the previous screenshots where he stands level with Cloud (or just behind him) then it’s fairly safe to assume that Cloud’s eyes are about level with the bottom edge of the upper shoulder pad. Or, for another reference, just above the center of the X where his suspenders cross.

Looking again at the size chart between 5′7″ vs 6′5″ then it’s a fairly accurate depiction of their height difference.

This screenshot doesn’t have them standing close to each other, but from a wide shot sometimes it’s easier to guestimate their heights:

Flatting down the top spikes on his hair, Cloud’s head comes level with Sephiroth’s jawline, and this is with Sephiroth’s head titled down slightly.

If Sephiroth was 6′1″ (185.4cm) then Cloud should reach approximately at Sephiroth’s nose (or just below his ears). This would be especially true if Cloud was 5.7ft, which roughly translates to 5 feet and 8.4 inches. (Like I said, I hate conversions.)

So, because he doesn’t reach Sephiroth’s nose/ears, then it seems more accurate to say Sephiroth has more inches than most of the fandom believes. (Or, at least openly speaks on. Everyone just shrugs about it, same for the multitude of inconsistencies in Zack’s profile. That’s a whole mess that deserves its own post. If it wasn’t for those inconsistencies, I would’ve used him as reference instead of Aerith because Zack gets proper screen time with Sephiroth.)

I know some people will argue the boots and how they add inches or are “platforms.” Yes, boots can often add height to a person, but I’m going to toss that argument out the window because this is all running the idea that even if they are wearing boots then they have the same sole thickness. Also, since I used her as reference as well, Aerith’s boots have a thick sole too so she has the same “platform” effect as the other characters. (You’re supposed to take measurements barefoot anyway, not with your shoes on.) So even if they are wearing boots, the problem still remains that there’s a bigger gap in heights than originally interpreted.

Unfortunately, Sephiroth’s bio is full of blanks that likely will never be filled. If it does get stated, I’d probably still be wary of it if it wasn’t near 6′5″ - or even 6′4″ (193cm) - because of how the characters all match up to each other.

All in all, the miscommunication between heights, conversions, fanons, and all sorts of other data on these characters is a big messy pot. I’ll still stick with Cloud being 5′7″ and I will also accept that Sephiroth is a fucking sequoia tree.

#{ suspended reality } | headcanon #actually that was a long ramble #i considered adding refs from AC #but then this would've been twice as long

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lixuagi · 4 years

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The Cure for Death - chapter 2

In this chapter: MC fullfills her dream and at the same time her nightmares become way too real.

I try to move my limbs, only to find them immobilized. -Don’t get too excited, you might hurt yourself.- the individual sneers above me. Their teeth are sharp. To say their anatomy is interesting would be to underestimate it. The more I focus, the more details I notice. Their lips are thin, their face symmetrical, their body tall and slender. They look, judging by their uniform, like they’re a doctor. I begin to realize I’m not dead, but I’m still too weak to react. I let them examine my eyes, which are opened wide by long fingers covered with black latex gloves. They smell of disinfectant. -Hm. That’s interesting. You’re not infected. Well, that’s a relief.- I let them finish their examinations before I ask: -Can you release me?- -Oh, of course.- the doctor smiles in a far from reassuring way as they loosen the wrist and ankle straps. I immediately sit down, lifting my back from the freezing tabletop. -What happened? Where am I? Where’s Selasi? - I look around, agitated.

There are dozens of people in white coats running back and forth, labored. Some are bent over tables similar to the one where I am, intent on tinkering with naked bodies, others are rummaging through medicines, noisily tinkling the flasks containing them. The large room is damp, with its rocky walls lit by torches. In the air hovers the penetrating odour of disinfectant, which, however, cannot totally cover a more bitter and nauseating smell, already imprinted in my mind: that of death. -Calm down, young patient.- The strange doctor who welcomed me when I woke up brings my attention back to themselves, taking my face in one hand and turning it to look at it from all angles. As they press my cheeks, preventing me from speaking, I feel their abnormally icy touch on my skin, even through their gloves. I shiver, but I blame the equally glacial and ghostly environment. I try to slow my breathing, as the doctor is not at all reassuring, nor do they try to be. -As much as I would have liked to operate on you, the man who brought you here made me change my mind.- Those words paralyze me instantly, while the individual notes something in a notebook with nonchalance. I hope it was a way to express the love they have for their profession, even if it was verbalized in a rather absurd way. I’ve got to get courageous. I have to make them understand that I need answers. -Please!– I exclaim, weakly grabbing a flap of his gown. Their face turns unnaturally, I’m surprised that they didn’t hear their vertebrae creak, given the rigidity and rapidity of the gesture. The ruby look goes from my face to my hand, but the wide, sharp smile does not leave them. I breathe deeply, as my voice trembles. -Where am I? Please answer me…- I look at them with supplicating eyes, but my confusion almost seems to amuse the doctor. -You’re in my clinic, Miss…- they check their notebook, where I imagine they’ve collected all my data. -MC Alnazar.- To hear my full name is strangely pleasant. Asra gave me his last name, since apparently, when he found me, I wasn’t able to tell him mine. In fact, I don’t remember much about my parents. I have some vague images of a ship, of the ocean, but they are so blurry that I wonder if they were real times or just fantasies created to fill something I preferred not to leave empty. -My friend, Selasi. He is sick… I tried to cure him, but I don’t know if…- the doctor puts their hand on my forehead, despite their silence something I told him led them to believe me feverish. However, that’s not the case. -This Selasi…what is he sick of?- they ask me with apathetic tone. -I think it’s the Red Plague, his eyes were totally red! I’m fine, I don’t need to be here. There are certainly people more needy to receive such accurate treatments, for example Selasi himself…doctor, could you do something for him?- the ambiguous figure seems almost proud that I considered their analysis “accurate”. -We’re already overwhelmed with patients. Which is pointless, since they’ll all end up the same…- they mumble to themselves, but they go on before letting me understand. -The man was perfectly healthy. Although I suspect a slight schizophrenia, since he was babbling nonsense.- I breathe out a sigh of relief. Then, I did it! I saved him! This news invigorates me instantly. I’d love to jump for joy, but I quickly recompose myself, clearing my voice. –What was he blathering on?- -He was talking about a supposed “miraculous magic.” He said it was you who saved him. Tell me…- they bend slightly towards me, their stature towers over my tiny figure. I try not to be intimidated. I might be in the right place at the right time. -I’m a person of science, not the first to believe certain rumors…but are they true?- Their grin is wider than ever, and their sharp teeth are all too evident. I consider the answer. They peer at me like a vulture would at a beast in the middle of the desert, to make sure it is dead and can be devoured. As creepy as they are, they’re still a doctor first. My whole existence has reason to make people better through my gift. Offering it to the world, especially in times of need, is the right thing to do. -Yes, it’s true.- -Prove it to me.- they instantaneously talk back. -You mean…here?- I jerk when they grab me by the shoulders, pushing me in front of a patient stuck on a steel table, in the same condition I was in before. At least I wasn’t naked. -I…I’m not sure I– -Are you lying? If so, don’t waste my time and get out.- Their grip is getting tighter, in a not-so-sheer threat. I wonder if they’d really let me go. -No, I’m not lying! But I’ve never cured a Red Plague patient before without it making me faint, and that’s why I’m here.- -No problem, then.- they grab a scalpel from a nearby tray. My heart stops, for a second I’m afraid they’ll stab me. Then they lower the blade on the patient, making a painful but not excessively deep incision in the abdomen. –Quaestor Valdemar, what are you doing?- A nurse rushes to the scene, alarmed by the wounded man’s desperate cry. –Oh, my…!- I exclaim, in disbelief. What kind of doctor, or rather Quaestor, would do such a thing? The purpose of medicine is to alleviate pain, not to cause more suffering! I immediately put my hand on the wound. Fortunately, I don’t need much energy, and both Valdemar and the nurse watch the cut heal before their incredulous eyes. The patient sighs, relieved from the pain and the blood loss. -It’s…incredible!- exclaims the young assistant, handing me a cloth to wipe the blood off. I accept it with pleasure, offering him a smile a little embarrassed. The boy is tall, his body resembles that of the Quaestor, but his shoulders are a bit wider and he is much more…human, I would say. Externally and internally. His grey irises admire me with enthusiasm, partly covered with tufts of red hair. I can tell from the dark circles under his eyes that this is a really stressful job. I look away from his face, which seems to have distracted me quite a bit. The nurse notices and his pale face turns pink. -Ahem! I didn’t want to embarrass you… I’m Julian Devorak.- he’s trying to offer me a hand, but then he withdraws it, deciding that maybe it was better for me not to come into contact with the liquids that may cover his uniform gloves. He holds it out to me again and I finally shake it. -Mc Aln– I’m interrupted by an abrupt tugging that forces me to turn on my heels. I bring my palms to my chest, I was so immersed to introduce myself that I forgot about the Quaestor, who seems to look at me severely. They don’t seem to appreciate any kind of distraction at work. I understand, how could I think about such a futile thing when people are dying around me? -Come.- Valdemar commands, now facing their back to me and beginning to take long steps through the clinic. I turn one last time towards Julian, pretending an expression of terror to which he mouthes “Good luck!”. It doesn’t occur to me that the doctor has stopped their march, and by the time I realize it it’s too late to stop, as I slam against their back. -I’m sorry, really, I don’t know what’s gotten into me…- God, I’ve never been so careless. I can hear their tongue clicking, I would say condescending, as they hiss: -You’re very distracted. It’s not ideal.- they press their hand on my side, pushing me in front of them, over a little wooden door. There are many others, each with a metal plate with a number engraved on it. On this one, it just says “office”. I am now in a cramped little room, there is barely enough space for a desk and a shelf, both full of notes and volumes, but all perfectly stacked and organized. Valdemar beckons me to sit on the only stool present, and I obey, preferring to keep quiet for now. -Well, that fool wasn’t lying. You really have a gift. It’s interesting, to say the least…- as they talk they put their hands together, otherwise motionless in front of me. -You know, I could almost decide to hire you, but you’d take away potential experiments.- I mean…are they saying they don’t want me to heal people so they can…study them? Their dedication to science is admirable, but their ethics are nonexistent. I try not to let my disbelief slip through. I want this job. -Please, Quaestor. This… I feel it’s where I belong. I’ll do more than just healing. I’ll even do some research, so there may be no need for dissections. I suppose it’s not pleasant… - I try to imply, maybe it’s just a misunderstanding and they’re not as sadistic as it sounds. -Oh, it’s far from being unpleasant to me. I find nothing more beautiful than the warmth of a vital organ under my fingers.- I am speechless, obviously they want to test me, see if I have a strong enough stomach for the job. Or maybe it’s a strange sense of humor, I’ve heard that many doctors joke with these things so as not to make the situation sadder. I decide to humour them briefly to get to the heart of the matter, and I force a giggle. -Hehe, yeah, nothing could be nicer…But doctor, I need this place. I’m not doing it for money, I don’t need anything but necessities. I want to help you, with my whole being.–With your whole being?- There’s no malice in their voice, actually there’s nothing, but the look with which they scan my body from head to toe combined with their strange way of giving voice to thoughts is enough to make me feel molested. I nod, carrying my hands to my lap as if to conceal my nudity, although not even vaguely exposed. They pretend to think about it, tilting their face and that strange horned headdress with it, but they seem to have already calculated everything. -In fact, the Countess has instructed me to put an end to the plague. So I suppose you could be of use to me.- I stand up, and if their figure didn’t upset me so much I’d embrace them. -Thank you, thank you!- I express my gratitude with multiple bows, but I am stopped by a raise of their hand. -One of these cells will be yours. Congratulations, Number 100.- Ah, I guess we’re all numbered. It’s a little sad, but otherwise it would be impossible to remember each one of our names. -But be careful. Nothing goes unnoticed. I won’t tolerate distractions like today’s. They’re very unprofessional and inefficient. And those who slow me down… can be considered discarded. - I swallow. I hope they’re not seriously that strict and it’s just a mask to intimidate newbies. I barely bend my lips up. –All clear.- -Now wait for me here. In the meantime, take off your clothes.- I open my eyes wide. Then, I wasn’t wrong! They really are a creep! Think, MC. If you refuse, you might miss this chance, and it’ll probably never happen again. But if you accept… heavens forbid. I don’t want to think about it. –But, like…completely?- I whisper. I thought it would’ve happened with the love of my life. I’ve never given myself to anyone, I’ve always waited to meet someone who would make me feel totally comfortable, one day. All my integrity, my idea of love… is now being shattered like this? Is it my destiny to sacrifice something so important to fulfill my dreams? My heartbeat accelerates, while panic takes hold of me. The Quaestor raises an eyebrow, puzzled. Then he shakes his head, without giving me any answer, and leaves the office, locking himself behind the door. What a nasty being. But I have to do it. I owe it to those children. Maybe they’re the ones to decide my fate, and they’ve establishehd that I must pay for what I’ve done. That’s right. My eyes get all shiny while unbuttoning my pristine shirt. Asra’s face appears in my mind, his amulet still around my neck. What would he think of me? Probably that I’m disgusting. Giving myself away for a job. But he wouldn’t understand. I take off my garment, then my shoes. The more skin I show, the more tears run down my face. I think back to Julian’s hasty presentation. He seems like a nice, caring guy. I wonder if he could imagine what’s about to happen to the sweet girl he admired for her healing powers? I unbutton my pants and shakily fold them on the stool. Now I’m only wearing underwear and the necklace. Just in case, I put it in my bag, which now lies on the freezing ground. Since the doctor has decided to leave me the benefit of the doubt, I prefer for now to at least keep my bra and panties on, in a futile attempt to feel vaguely protected. I’m rubbing my arms, indulging in the agitation. You must, you must. It’s the best thing for everyone. I can hear the door creaking. There they are, they’re back. The high shadow of Valdemar stretches out on me, while I can’t look at them or stop crying nor shaking. -If that’s what you want…Please know that I’ve never… I don’t…- I hiccup, but all I get in response is silence. -I’ve never done anything like that…-I cover my chest with my hands, rubbing my knees together. -There’s always a first time.- declares the barren voice of my persecutor. Then I really didn’t misunderstand. My crying is silent, but I try to suffocate the sobs, waiting for them to move. I flinch when I hear something brushing against me, and I can’t suppress a small gasp. But it’s not hands. It’s… fabric. -What are you crying for? I thought you were excited. Did you change your mind?- I shake my head, clenching my eyelids. -No, I didn’t. Don’t worry.- -Then you must be one of those people who cry when they’re happy, I guess. Or maybe you’re suffering of hysteria.- How can they think I could be happy right now? They’re going to abuse me! They’re a monster, but I already know that. –Would you like a hand?- -N-no, I really don’t know where to start…take the lead. Just, please. Be nice…- -If this mere thing scares you so much, I wonder how you’ll be able to stand the sight of dead bodies.- I hate to admit it, but they might be right. I have to be strong. I can hear them sighing. -I’ll try to be as fast as I can. It’s standard procedure. But you’ll have to get used to it. As soon as you come in, you’ll have to do it every day. It’s essential and I demand it, like any other behavior deemed necessary under my guidance.- Every…day? No, that’s impossible. Is this really what I deserve? Maybe I never woke up, and for my sin I went to hell. I died, and this is the world the Devil sewed me into. There’s no other explanation. -Now raise a leg, No. 100. – I let out a sob, but I obey. Something slightly rough runs over my calf, surrounding it. –What are you doing…?- I squint my eyes, still tarnished with tears, and find the Quaestor kneeling before me. -I’ll show you how to wear the uniform properly one and only one time. I repeat, once. I want you to watch, though, it is important, or you will not be sufficiently protected from the pestilence. First of all, these pants.- when I realize, my legs give way, and I also fall to my knees, abandoning myself to a hysterical cry. I really just made a fool of myself. If they’re still hiring me after this, I can consider myself extremely lucky. –Oh dear, you sure are an emotional human being. It might encourage patients to tell us about their symptoms. I know empathy is an enviable quality. Not for me, but as long as it doesn’t get in the way, I guess…- are they trying to comfort me? -I’ll let you vent this time, but I don’t want it to happen again during work hours.- -You’re telling me… that you still want to hire me as a nurse?- I raise my head to finally look them in the eye. I even forget that I’m half-naked. -My dear, you may have just walked in here, but you’re already the most useful one. A talent like yours could come in handy.- I don’t care about their grin, their sadism, their inhumanity, as they dab my tears with a clean handkerchief, the relief I feel makes Valdemar seem like the most benevolent creature in the world. -Thank you.- My smile is trembling, but my heart is already calmer. -It’s in my best interest that my employees are in the best possible condition to care for the patients after all. Let’s get back to the uniform. Now, the apron… -

When the Quaestor walks me out of the office, we get face-to-face with Julian. –No. 069, do you have any relevant news? -The look of the red-haired boy dashes from me to his superior. He notices my shiny puffy eyes and red cheeks. He frowns, worried, then an impatient scoff from the doctor brings him back to his duties. –I’ve only got the list with the most recent patients data. So far, they have no features in common. Age, ethnicity, previous psychophysical state, nothing is shared equally by the sick. Neither is the mortality rate lower in young people…- I can read his torn down expression even behind the surgical mask, which I am now wearing too. -How many are currently hospitalized here?- I ask. Earlier, Valdemar mentioned the Countess of Vesuvia, Nadia Satrinava, wife of Count Lucio Morgasson. A woman in power is not to be underestimated, but I am surprised that she is forced to take the reins of such an important task as eradicating the Plague alone. I don’t personally know the Count, of course, but Asra has dealt with him a few times as a guest at his sumptuous birthday parties. On the occasion of this special day, the gates of the palace are opened wide to the people, or so the flyers distributed in every angle of Vesuvia claimed, but those who cannot afford a lavish costume and a beaded mask are automatically discarded from the event. Asra, however, loves the dances and especially the food from the buffet, so he attends the party annually, always trying to take me with him. I have always refused, dancing is not my forte and certain things require a confidence that I do not possess. Obviously the celebration stopped taking place when the Plague forced everyone to shut themselves indoors.

-Hundreds arrive every day, but we can do little at the moment except administer sedatives or painkillers.- answers Julian. -Oh, but as of today, not anymore! Isn’t it true, No. 100? The presence of the Questor is ice cold behind me, and I can only nod my head, still embarrassed by the uniform gaffe. -I thought there were 87 of us, doctors and nurses.- Comments the younger medic, perplexed. -As of yesterday, 86, since No. 29 has been eliminated. Anyhow, this way, it’ll be easier for everyone to appeal to her. She could make up for… unpleasant mishaps, such as a perforated artery, crushed rib cages…- while listing every possible case of macabre inconvenience, Valdemar has a strange expression on their face, like the one of a child thinking about his favorite dish. When I get goosebumps, this time I don’t blame the cold of the dungeons. Noticing my discomfort, Julian allows himself to interrupt their dark fantasies. -I didn’t know Alex was sick.- -Oh, he was just at the beginning of the infection. I couldn’t risk him compromising other people’s health…so I took care of him.- I admit I’m not in a position to judge, but I can only ask: -Did you…- -Yes, exactly. I sent him home.- I breathe a sigh of relief, for a moment I feared the worst. But apparently it’s not over. -He’ll be back here soon as a patient, and on his deathbed, he’ll be studied. Isn’t that noble?- The only thing Valdemar seems to be excited about is the idea of vivisection. I wonder if it happens often, to hospitalize their own employees. I hope not, because now I’m part of the medical staff too. I wonder if they ever feels sorry. They might be able to detach themselves emotionally with a stranger, but with a colleague I think it’s more difficult. After all, coworkers chat every day, they help each other. For me it is inevitable that a strictly professional relationship will sooner or later lead to a friendship, even if it is weak. Does this job really change one so much and so quickly? This situation has been going on for just over two years, has it really been able to change an individual’s soul in this way? Or was it already like this? -No more futile chatter, it’s time to return to our splendid duty, don’t you think? - Valdemar’s feline eyes are watching us. I realize that the whole uniform, from boots to gown, fits me perfectly. Could it be that they took my measurements while I was unconscious? Heavens, I don’t think they were even thinking of hiring me yet. Do they do that to everyone? Or maybe one look it’s all it takes for them to know a lot more about me than I could ever imagine. If Julian told me the boss could read minds, I’d believe it, and I wouldn’t even be that surprised. Speaking of Julian, he’s taking a step forward by my side. -I could take care of her training if you agree, Quaestor.- the doctor shakes his head in response, calmly and satisfactorily inhaling the putrid air of the little hospital. -I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny you this chance you’ve certainly been yearning for, No. 069. I myself want to observe her techniques, and who could be a better teacher than me in medical matter? Be reasonable, 069, you would be futile. Even if I didn’t want to take this responsibility, I’d assign the task to someone more deserving.- wow, they could’ve just said no. The two of them exchange an icy stare, there’s no good blood between them at all. The whole surrounding atmosphere is full of tension, but I suppose that’s normal. It’s a very stressful situation for everyone. Julian stands still, looking down. His fists tighten, then he releases them with a sigh. –Understood.- He murmurs resigned, then turns around and goes back to work. Following his trajectory with my gaze I notice something new in the room: a low stone well, open. –Watch carefully.- -Ah!- I yeIp and cover my mouth with my hands, jolting at the unexpected closeness of Valdemar’s face, leaning behind me to whisper in my ear. I then remain motionless, obeying the command, and to my horror I notice that a bloody and lifeless body is thrown into the well. Death is everywhere here. I’ve never seen it like this before, so close. The procedure is done quietly in front of the other patients, but no one pays attention to it, all so busy being tormented by their own unbearable pain. A little boy with vermilion sclerae seems to be the exception, and as he watches the well swallow one corpse after another he realizes that he will soon end up the same way. He grabs his hair, crouching on the icy ground. Valdemar murmurs something, but I take the liberty of not listening to them, running to the young boy to kneel in front of him, his preadolescent face twisted into a desperate expression. I take his face in my hands, bringing his attention to me. Some nurse turns to look at us. -Hey, hey. Shh. It’s okay. I’m here to help you.- I let him rest his head on my chest while he sobs incomprehensible gibberish. Between those confused words, I can distinguish a specific cry saying “I don’t want to die” and I could swear I’m hearing my heart break in two. I run my fingers through his dusty hair, feeling protected by the mask, but even if I didn’t have it I would do the same thing. I take advantage of the contact to concentrate my light and understand how advanced the stage of the disease is. I close my eyelids and let the noises around us cancel each other out. Once again, the compromised particles are in the blood, but luckily they haven’t attacked the organs yet. He will certainly be easier than Selasi to heal, plus now my magic knows where to go and recognizes the enemy. I hold the boy close to me, rocking him gently, while I happily feel his symptoms go away. The light pervades his body, absorbing the malaise. Within a minute, or even less, it’s all over, and when I open my eyes again I have many more fixared on me, first of all those of the cured kid. -How do you feel? -I ask him, smiling kindly. It would be understandable if he was confused or exhausted. -I…-He puts his head down to take a look at his body, then raises it back up to me, then back down again, incredulous. I feel a hand on my back, turning around, I notice it’s Julian’s. -You’re unbelievable, MC!- he exclaims, quickly examining the sclere of the boy, now of a normal whitish hue. Everyone cheers me enthusiastically, surprised by my skill. Between the voices I hear “it’s a miracle” “she’s the cure!” and I turn red like a pepper, while trying to ignore my incoming migraine. Then, suddenly, an icy silence invades the room. Everyone is silent. The only sound that echoes on the rock walls is the ticking of a pair of soles hitting the stone coming closer. -Admirable, really, No. 100. But, you see… I’m the one in charge here. And I don’t think I ordered you to treat this orphan.- I recognize Valdemar’s voice at once, and I realize I made a mistake. I stand up slowly. -But the boy was suffering and…- -Little, incompetent fool…-the breath stops in my throat when the Quaestor’s squeeze wraps around my shoulders, tearing me away from Julian’s delicate touch. -You and your stupid, superfluous feelings. I knew you weren’t so clever, but I still overestimated you.- A rare warmth pervades my chest. It’s anger. -I’m going to ask you to think about it anyway. Do you think it’s right to privilege the health of a young brat? How do you think everyone else feels now? Or maybe they didn’t pity you enough, since they weren’t whining like babies. But I can assure you that there are people who deserved to be saved more than a useless infant to society. There are soldiers, officials, even other doctors here. Isn’t that enough for you?- I bite my lip. It’s so easy to make me feel guilty. The Quaestor’s words, hard as they are, are true. Everyone deserves to live equally. I don’t know what to say, and that encourages them to persevere in reproach. -Yeah, that’s what I thought. The goodness you so-called tender-hearted people show is false. There’s always an ulterior motive behind it, you never pause to think about your actions and that causes more harm than anything else.- It costs me a lot of effort not to cry. I feel humiliated and frustrated, but tears would give him even more reason. -From now on, I demand that you do what I tell you, nothing else. You’re clearly not capable of making objective decisions. Go to your office, in the meantime… take him away- they point at the boy with a wave of their hand. I instantly become pallid with fear.

Notes: summary of this long ass chapter: Julian good, dr.Vivisexy bad. I’m sorry for this angst but this will be very obviously a slow burn (ohhh yeeeeaaah that’s the stuff) and also uhhh space for character development i guess

I need Julian for a higher purpose so i hope you don’t mind the presence of pretty bird boi (i certainly dont,,,,,, i do be kinda loving him doe..,,). As always, thank you for reading! Opinions are always appreciated!!!! (please dont insult/harshly criticize me though, i could and WILL cry)

#valdemar #quaestor valdemar #julian devorak #the arcana #the arcana valdemar #the arcane julian #the arcana fanfic #valdemar x mc #valdemar x apprentice #The Cure for Death

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veteran-shipper · 6 years

Text

Voltron’s Anatomy

part 2 of ???

so i realize that doing all how-many-bajillion episodes of grey’s anatomy is an improbable task. i’ll probably be mixing and matching episodes because ain’t nobody got time for that, least of all me. plus, let’s be real. we were really only in it for Der and Mer’s Epic Love Story.

alternatively titled: never air to breathe (never inbetweens).

Pidge slams her locker shut in frustration. “I have got to move out from my parents’ place,” she announces, yanking viciously at her shoelaces.

“What’s up?” Hunk asks, his forehead creased with concern.

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just sick and tired of all the tension because my brother Matt has been MIA. It feels like I’ve been walking on eggshells ever since I moved back for residency. They’re being overprotective, and as much as I understand, I’m a god damn adult, and I can handle the shifts I signed on for. The fact that they also work here is literally my worst nightmare. I can’t believe I agreed to come back.”

“Why don’t you move into my place, then?” Keith suggests, shrugging his white coat on. “I have the space.”

“I thought you were trying to sell it?” Hunk says, mildly surprised. “What changed?”

Keith shrugs. “I just never got around to it. Plus, I moved back here, didn’t I? Might as well keep it around and get some roommates. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point. What do you say? I’ll keep rent reasonable.”

“I’ll think about it,” Pidge says with a shrug.

“Sure, just let me know whenever. I have two rooms up for grabs if you want in, too, Hunk,” Keith adds.

“It would be nice to be in a full house again,” Hunk says wistfully. “I’ve basically been crashing on my uncle’s couch since moving here from Hawaii.”

The three of them approach Altea for their assignments of the day. Altea’s eyes narrow. “Where’s Lance?” she asks. Keith shoves his hands in his coat pockets and shrugs.

“Dr. Altea! Sorry to keep you waiting!” Lance skids to a stop, just barely keeping a tray of coffees from tipping over. “I brought you a coffee--mocha, soy, just the way you like it.”

Altea looks slightly mollified as she plucks the coffee out of the tray. “Thank you, Lance, but next time, apologize by being on time,” she says dryly. “You’re on code team. Keith, take the trauma pager. Pidge, deliver the weekend lab results to their patients. Hunk, you’re on sutures.” She turns on her heels and starts to walk away.

“Dr. Altea!” Lance says, stopping her in her tracks. “I was wondering if I could assist you in the OR today? I think I’m ready. You know, for a minor procedure or something like that.”

“Hey! If he gets to cut, I want to cut, too!” Pidge says, elbowing Lance out of the way.

“Me too!” Keith interjects.

Hunk gulps. “Yeah, I guess,” he adds lamely.

“Okay, stop.” Altea puts her hands on her hips, eyes blue steel. “Every intern wants a chance to perform their first surgery. But that’s not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make me happy. Do I look happy? No, because my interns aren’t doing the jobs I told them to do. Nobody gets to even touch a cadaver until I think you’re ready, understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” the interns mumble collectively.

“Now move!” Altea makes a shooing motion with her hands, and the interns scatter off to their various jobs. “Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race starts in six hours and I need my weekend labs run and my code team staffed!”

Shiro was idly tapping on his phone when he spots Keith pressing the button for the elevator. Pocketing his phone, he saunters as casually as he can until he’s within an arm’s length of Keith’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you rode a bike,” he says in Keith’s ear, trying for casual.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Keith asks, not diverting his attention away from the ticker.

“No, I mean, a motorbike--a motorcycle,” Shiro backtracks with an internal grimace. The elevator dings, signalling its arrival. Ah, saved by the bell, he thinks to himself. “I have one, too. Never expected Nevada to be such a good place to go for a late night ride.”

Keith tries to suppress his smile as the elevator’s occupants file out. He and Shiro get on together and stand side by side as they wait for the doors to close. Shiro continues to ramble. “Now I have to like it here. I’m from Seattle. I’m not supposed to like how dry and deserted it is here. I have a thing for motorcycles,” he finishes lamely as the doors close and the serene elevator music starts up.

“I’m not going out with you,” Keith says to break the monotony of the music.

“Did I ask you do go out with me?” Shiro mentally palms himself in the face. Yes you did, you idiot, he chastises himself. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I’m not dating you,” Keith reiterates. “And I’m definitely not sleeping with you again. You’re my boss.”

“I’m your boss’ boss,” Shiro corrects before he can help himself. Idiot! That makes nothing better, his inner monologue whacks him over the head.

“Regardless, this is inappropriate,” Keith says firmly. “This is grounds for sexual harassment.”

Shiro turns to face him. “I’m riding an elevator,” he says mildly.

“Don’t come any closer,” Keith says, a flush riding high on his cheeks, clashing horribly with the orange scrubs.

“Red’s a good closer on you,” Shiro says, and closes the gap between them, tangling one hand in Keith’s hair, dislodging the little pony tail, and wrapping the other around his waist. Keith flips their positions and pushes Shiro against the elevator wall, smashing his charts haphazardly between their chests as he fights to get closer to Shiro’s mouth. He reaches up to tug Shiro down by the back of his neck, biting gently on his bottom lip, gasping softly at the feel of the cool metal of the prosthetic sliding lower and playing with the waistband of his thin scrubs.

Just as Shiro’s about to go for the full on ass grab, the elevator dings, and they hastily break apart, Keith’s files spilling onto the floor between the two of them.

“Oh fuck,” Keith rasps, gathering up the files as quickly as he can and marching off to see his patients. Shiro’s gaze follows him, dazed and forlorn as nurses and other hospital staff file in, none the wiser.

Keith walks into a room filled with nurses and PAs rushing around, a hand absentmindedly on his bottom lip, mind a million floors away with Dr. Shirogane.

“There you are!” A harried looking PA comes into his field of view. “We’ve got a rape victim. She came in with a GCS of six, BP eighty over sixty. Exam is significant for blunt head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated. We think she ran right into the bike race,” he rattles off. “She’s ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?”

Keith blankly surveys the room, taking in the blood on the body, the ruined shoes that haven’t yet been bagged, and--

“Hey!”

“Is that a penis?” Keith asks, peering into the kidney tray. It’s resting on ice, and definitely looking worse for wear. “Yeah/ Call ahead to CT. Let them know I’m coming. Load a portable monitor, and call Respiratory for a ventilator,” he orders, checking her eyes himself and her breathing tube. “I’ll do x-rays while I’m down there.”

The PA grunts in amusement. “Tough lady. Bit it right off. We found it in her mouth.”

“What a warrior,” Keith murmurs softly, checking her chart.

He takes responsibility over her and follows her from her scans into emergency surgery, where he and a couple of the less busy interns observe as Shirogane, Iverson, and Coran work to set her bones back in place and fix the internal bleeding. Shirogane lets out a low whistle as he works on setting her arm. “He really did a number on her. What is she? Five foot two, not even a hundred pounds?”

“Yeah, she’s going to spend a helluva time in recovery,” Coran says, jovial as always. “Really gave him a good walloping, though. Clearly a case of ‘You should see the other guy.’ I heard the rape kit came back negative.”

“She bit his penis off,” Keith offers. “It was in a kidney dish when I went to go get her for scans.”

The three attendings heads swivel to look at him, their hands never stopping their work. “What in tarnation?” Iverson says, incredulous.

“Jesus,” Coran says. “Well, if she can fight off the infection, she can fight off anything.”

They start to close on the patient, and before Keith can slip out to round, he hears Iverson call his name. Or, more accurately, his “designated Intern number assigned by the one-and-only Coran.”

“Intern number 3!” Keith pauses. “I need you to stay with the penis until the police arrive. Chain of custody rules, and all,” he barks.

Keith blanches. “Seriously?” he asks, looking at the small cooler they’d placed the severed body part in.

“That’s an order, intern!” Iverson says, pulling closed a stitch. Keith sighs and grabs the cooler before exiting.

Over at the HUB, Pidge sorts through the labs while Lance toys with his pager and gloats about his assignment.

“Code team rocks,” he says with a smug grin. “One minute I get to shock a heart back to life, and the next minute I have my arms full of grateful daughters and sisters.”

Pidge stacks a lab report a little harder than necessary on top of her growing stack. “You know, I have an MD/PhD from Stanford, and I’m delivering patient labs. This is going to take me all day,” she says, annoyed.

Altea whisks by briskly. “Better get started then!” she says, sipping daintily at her mocha latte. “Lance, with me!” she says. “I need as many hands as I can find, and since you’re not doing anything, you’re going to help me wade through this disaster coming in.” Lance’s expression brightens and he hurries after her, pager beeping.

“Oh! Uh, I wasn’t complaining,” Pidge says weakly, grabbing her stack of labs and hurrying off. If she's fast enough, she decides, she might be able to put staples in someone’s wound.

Cooler in hand, Keith runs into the ER just in time to see multiple stretchers being brought in. “Keith!” Altea says. “Excellent timing! I need you to help Hunk with some suturing and debridement in beds four through 8! What is that?” she asks, pointing at the the cooler.

“I’m babysitting a penis until the police get here,” Keith says, already moving towards bed four, where Hunk is dealing with a particularly rowdy bicyclist who didn’t seem particularly interested in staying for x-rays.

Along the way, he sees Shiro, sitting with his unconscious patient, flipping through her chart, though he chooses not to stop in favor of setting the cooler down and grabbing a suture kit.

“Sir, I highly recommend that you stay for X-rays,” Hunk says, a firm hand on the bicyclist’s shoulder.

“What? No! I need to get back to the race!”

“Sir, please,” Hunk says again. “You might have internal bleeding. I don’t feel comfortable taking those bike spokes out until you’ve had a thorough check up.”

His patient rolls his eyes. Then, he grits his teeth and, before Hunk and Keith can do any more than exclaim in alarm, grasps the bike spokes, pulling all four of them out with a grunt. “See?” he says, with a ta-dah wave of his hands. “No swooning, no fainting. I’m fine.”

Hunk shakes his head, holding a kidney tray for him to place the metal spikes. “Keith, this guy’s all yours. I’m going to move on to the next one.”

“Ah! Hunk!” Coran catches Hunk before he can check on the brain dead guy in bed 5. “Just the doctor I wanted to see! I’m going to be stuck in the OR all day today doing repairs, and I need someone I can rely on to check on my pre- and post-op patients. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh, yes sir!” Hunk says.

“Oh, and one of them, Mr. Mackie, is a good friend of mine. Make sure you get him everything he needs.”

“Got it,” Hunk says, leaving Keith behind to deal with the victims of the race.

Keith sutures Impatient Biker Dude closed and is smoothing the bandage over the area when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey, you’ve got a really nice touch, and you are a rockin’ babe. Why don’t you let me take you out sometime?”

“Excuse me?” Keith raises an eyebrow but otherwise tries not to let his annoyance show and turns to grab his patient’s chart. “I don’t date my patients. If you insist on leaving, you’ll be doing so against the doctor’s orders, so you’ll have to sign this form saying that you understand the consequences.”

“Darling, I will do what ever you want,” he purrs, taking the form. “I have to get back to the race.”

“Look,” Keith tries again. “One CT scan. You’ll be in and out in thirty minutes.”

“No can do, babe,” his patient says again, handing the form back. “I’ve got a race to finish.” He swings his legs over the side of the hospital bed and gets up. “There’s a party at the end, you know,” he says. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”

Keith rolls his eyes and turns away, only to feel a hand grab him by the waist and spin him around. He feels his patient’s lips meet his and pull him into a deep lip lock, and he freezes, indignation bubbling up behind his rib cage. “What the fuck?” he demands once his patient lets him go.

“One for luck,” he says with a jaunty wave and a wink. “You’ll be seeing me again soon.”

“For your sake, I hope you don’t!”

He whirls around, and accidentally makes eye contact with Shirogane, whose eyes look filled with hurt. Shiro gets up from his station near his comatose patient and intercepts Keith before he can get to Mr. Brain Dead in bed 5. With dismay, he watches as Lance and Altea start the next round of tests on him.

“What was that?” Shiro demands. “Are you kissing patients now?”

“For the record, he kissed me, and I definitely did not want to kiss that guy.” Keith tries to move onto bed 6, but Shiro blocks his way. “Oh come on! Dr. Shirogane, are you jealous? This is highly unprofessional.”

“I am not jealous!” The faint flush across the bridge of his nose bringing out his scar says otherwise. “Go out with me,” he says instead.

“No! You’re my boss! It’s against the rules.” Keith signs off on the chart. “We had sex once and we made out in an elevator once. That’s not going to happen again.” Keith tries again to move to bed 6, wanting the conversation to end.

Lance and Altea are debating over what they should do with Brain Dead.

“I think we should harvest his organs,” Altea says.

“What?” Lance exclaims. “He has a family!”

“Great!” Altea says cheerily. “Find them, and get their consent.”

“What? No! Come on, he’s got six hours.”

“Okay, fine,” Altea says decisively. “We’ll let the family make the decision.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “You just want a harvest surgery.”

“Don’t you?” Altea asks.

“I--” Lance throws his hands up, conflicted.

“Dr. Shirogane!” Altea motions for Shiro to come take a look.

“Just a minute!” he says normally, before lowering his voice again. “‘It’s against the rules?’ You don’t take me as a by-the-books kind of guy,” he says to Keith.

“Look, you’re an attending. I’m your intern. Unlike you, I still have something to prove. Now, I really need to get to Ms. Ho before she bleeds out.” Keith puts a hand on Shiro’s upper arm and pushes him towards Bed 5. “Go deal with Mr. Brain Dead.”

Pidge finishes with her lab deliveries just in time to watch as a car screeches into the front of the hospital, and a man stumble out of the driver’s side covered in blood from the waist down. She catches a nurse by the arm. “Get a stretcher--he’s hurt!” she orders, and motions two other nurses to come help her get him inside and onto the waiting stretcher. They get him hooked up to a heart rate monitor and a breathing tube before cutting him out of his clothes. “Oh my God!” she yelps, looking at the bloody mess of his groin. “Somebody call security!”

She ends up getting to observe the surgery that Iverson performs on the bloody John Doe.

“Medicine’s a funny business,” he comments as he cauterizes a blood vessel. “One minute you get to save the life of someone who fought off an attack, and the next, you’re trying to save the life of the attacker. Intern, why aren’t we trying to reattached this penis?” he barks at Pidge.

“Teeth tear, but reattachments need clean cuts. If she’d taken a knife to his penis, he might still be able to save it, but since she bit it off, plus the digestive enzymes in the mouth, there’s no way he’s ever going to get to pee like a normal person again,” she says, trying to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Hmm, a moment of silence for this poor guy,” Iverson says, rolling his eyes unsympathetically, cauterizing the final blood vessel. Pidge can’t help but agree. Good riddance.

As Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race ends, so does the endless stream of injured bikers, and the interns finally get a chance to trudge wearily back to the locker rooms to freshen up and change into a fresh set of scrubs.

“I need a bed,” Pidge moans, lying on a bench in the locker rooms wearing just her sports bra. “Or a drink and a massage. Or a drunken massage on a bed.” She sits up with groan and starts wrestling her scrub top back over her head.

“I lost five patients today on the code team,” Lance moans at his reflection.

“Lance, ninety-five percent of code patients can’t be revived. They’re seriously dead before you even get there.”

“What?” Lance exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because,” Pidge says loftily. “I’m Pidge, and you’re Lance.”

Hunk trudges in, looking somewhat disgruntled. “Mr. Mackie won’t stop hitting on me, and I don’t know how to tell him I’m not interested. He’s Coran’s VIP, for crying out loud.” He sits down heavily next to Pidge. “At least we found a match for him.”

“Oh yeah? Who?” Lance asks, splashing water onto his face.

“Oh, just some brain dead guy from earlier. When I told him, he cried and then tried to ask me out again.”

“Nice!” Lance gives Hunk a fist bump. “That was Allura and my’s first patient together!”

“Allura? Since when did she start letting you call her Allura?”

“Oh, she hasn’t. I just call her that in my head.”

“A patient kissed me today,” Keith announces, moodily playing with the handle of the cooler. “I wish I’d shown him the severed penis just to freak him out, but I didn’t think about that until it was too late. Plus, I don’t think it would have stopped him.”

Hunk makes a noise of sympathy. Lance, ever the incorrigible romantic, asks, “And what did Shiro think of that?”

“He asked me out again.”

Pidge groans. “Men,” she says. “They think they can just get away with anything.”

Lance, Hunk, and Keith all make indignant noises.

“I got to watch Iverson cauterize the penis of a rapist today,” she continues as if they hadn’t said anything. “Simultaneously the best and the worst thing I’ve seen today, and I had to endure twenty-seven patients’ family members hug me with joy.”

“Aw come on!” Lance interjects. “I should’ve gotten that job! I love hugs!”

“Does that mean I’m finally going to get to not babysit a penis anymore?” Keith asks, perking up at the thought.

“Keith, it’s 2AM. They’re not sending someone over at 2AM.”

Keith drops his head into his hands and groans. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“I mean, since you asked so nicely,” Lance starts. Pidge sticks her foot out and trips him.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

“Any time, bud.”

When Keith passes by the unconscious patient again in the morning, Shiro is still there and he looks like he hasn’t slept. He has, however, moved to the HUB, where he can simultaneously keep an eye on the patient and work on charting on the computer. Keith sets the penis cooler down on the counter. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yeah.” Shiro barely spares him a glance, and he rubs at the scar across the bridge of his nose. “You know, I grew in a family of all boys. All brothers. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have anyone waiting for me when I wake up.”

“I can,” Keith says. Shiro looks up at him then, and stands to go make himself a cup of coffee, eyes soft.

“So,” he says, coming back with two paper cups of the hospital’s cheap free brew. “We’re kissing, but we’re not dating?”

Keith made a sound of annoyance. “I knew this would come up,” he says, accepting one of the cups.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. More kissing, any day, I say,” Shiro says.

Keith rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. “You sound like Coran,” he teases.

“I just want to know if this is going to happen again in the future. If it is, I’m gonna need to carry around breath mints. Maybe a,” Shiro lowers his voice, “condom in my wallet?”

“Shut up,” Keith whispers back, finishing off his coffee. Together, they stare at the patient in silence. All the monitors start beeping at once, and Keith and Shiro immediately move into action, calling for nurses and equipment.

“Prepare for an emergency craniotomy!” Shiro yells at a nearby nurse, who nods. Together, they mobilize the hospital bed into the OR, and Keith waits anxiously outside until Shiro’s done, looking more worn than ever.

“We had to leave the top of her skull flap off,” he tells Keith. “Until the swelling in her brain goes down.”

Keith sighs. “She’s not going to make it is she?” he asks.

“She’ll be fine,” Shiro replies, with a soft smile. “Come on. You have rounds. Don’t forget your penis.”

Keith sighs, shooting the cooler a look of distaste. “I just want the damn police to show up already,” he says in annoyance, heading back toward the HUB to catch up on some charting.

As soon as he reaches the HUB, however, a nurse motions him over. “The police have arrived to take custody of the evidence,” she tells him pointing over to where two uniformed men stand.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Nyma,” he says, making his way over to the cops standing near the water cooler. “Hello sirs, I’m Dr. Kogane. I hear you’re here to collect my penis?”

The two cops look distinctly uncomfortable for a split second, before one of them notices the cooler in Keith’s hand. “Oh! Yeah, you just need to sign a couple of forms, and we’ll be out of your hair,” he says.

Keith gladly takes the paperwork and fills it out, handing both the forms and the cooler over to the cops. He runs into Pidge and Hunk halfway through rounds and they both give him high fives when they realize he’s no longer holding onto the penis cooler any more.

“Hey, so about those rooms,” Pidge says. “I’m in.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hunk adds. “I think I’m ready to give up my uncle’s couch.”

“Oh okay, cool,” Keith says. “I just need to get a few copies of my key made for you guys, and then you can move in whenever.”

Pidge and Hunk cheer loudly and get shushed by Mrs. Cobb in bed 9.

#sheith #voltron's anatomy #voltron #vld #grey's anatomy au #grey's anatomy #slow burn #fanfiction #allurance #multiship #everyone's going to sleep with everybody #let's be real #it's grey's anatomy

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cassiebones · 7 years

Text

Muse

The One Where Everybody is Queer

It’s the sight of those arms that has Lena Luthor walking up to the sunny, smiling blonde in the middle of the university courtyard—sitting with half a dozen other college students, of all shapes and sizes and sexualities—and clearing her throat, her sketchbook pressed against her chest.

The blonde glances up at her and squints and it’s only then that Lena realizes that she’s probably silhouetted by the sun, her face in the shadows. But she can see the blonde’s face perfectly.

Oh god it’s so damn perfect.

She wears glasses over a pair of sky-blue eyes and her hair is almost always in a ponytail or some kind of braid—at least it is whenever Lena spots her across the quad, perpetually lying in the grass with the lesbian couple, who always hold hands or cuddle against one another and laugh with her—and today is no different. Today she has tiny yellow flowers woven in between her braids, making her look like some kind of woodland fairy, her rosy cheeks raised with her smile, her adorable button nose wrinkled slightly as she attempts to squint through the sunlight to find Lena’s face.

Usually, when Lena sees her, the blonde is wearing a sweater or a button-down, or something plaid that always makes Lena’s heart pound faster with hope. Because this girl is gorgeous and, yeah, plaid doesn’t always point to queer, but so often it does and wouldn’t it be just her luck if the girl who wears such queer clothing was actually 100% straight?

Today, however, it’s warm. Today, the blonde’s hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing a deep blue tank top and a red bandeau underneath and her shorts are cut-offs and Lena can feel her heartbeat in her throat and oh god, she’s been standing here for a really long time not saying anything, hasn’t she. They’re all staring at her now; the lesbian couple and the spiky-haired boy with his maybe-boyfriend, who is in her photography class, and their other two friends, who are tangled up together with books in their hands. They’ve all stopped what they’re doing and they’re staring.

It’s like the first day of high school all over again, when Lena—who had skipped several grades—showed up to a classroom filled with teenagers that were all twice her size. Even the teacher had thought she’d shown up to the wrong school.

Only this was worse. Because she was in college, nearly in her last year, and she had only just turned eighteen a few months ago. Because she had a major crush on the blonde, but more than that, she thought she was beautiful and if she didn’t ask her question now, she might as well evaporate into thin air because it was getting more and more embarrassing by the second and—

“Are you okay, Lena?”

Her eyes widen and her heart skips a beat and her throat threatens to close because

“You know my name?” she blurts before she can stop herself and then she’s blushing as the blonde smiles brightly up at her, because she’s never even bothered to learn her name. She just knows that she’s pretty and blonde and, wow, she knows my name!

“Of course I do,” she giggles. “You’re in James’ photography class, right?” She motions to the black guy, who gives her a lopsided smile and a wave, his arm still slung around the smaller guy’s shoulder. “He showed me some of your work; it’s really good.”

“Th-thanks!” Lena says and she can feel her face getting hotter. Her light skin is probably the color of a beet by now as she runs her hand through her impeccably combed hair, probably mussing it. She doesn’t really care too much when this blonde bombshell is smiling at her like this, though. “Um, I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

“That’s okay,” the blonde says, standing up. Predictably, she’s taller than Lena—but not by too much. “Kara Danvers,” she says, sticking out her hand. Lena takes it and feels a frisson of electricity run through her. “I’m a Freshman here this year,” she explains. “Otherwise, I probably would have been in photography with you and James. Mine’s not as good, though.”

“Don’t listen to her,” James laughs. “Kara’s photos are great; she’s just humble.” Kara rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Um, this is my sister, Alex, and her girlfriend, Maggie,” she said, motioning to the lesbians, who lean against each other like their lives depend on it. They each wave at her and Lena waves back with a shy smile. It’s nice to see happy queer couples like them around campus. It gives her hope. “They’re both seniors,” she explains. “So are Lucy and Vasquez,” she points to the two others entangled on the grass.

“They/them,” the one Lena assumes is Vasquez says, with a small grin. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Lucy adds.

“Last, but certainly not least,” Kara continues, “this is Winn. He’s a Sophomore tech major.”

“I like machines and cute boys,” Winn says, with a small grin. James kisses his cheek.

“Don’t we all,” Kara laughs and Lena’s face almost drops at that. So she is straight.

Bummer.

“Sorry, Lena,” Kara says, turning back to the dark-haired girl, who’s trying so hard to keep the light in her green eyes. “You wanted to ask something, didn’t you?”

“Um, well, I…it’s nothing,” Lena says, starting to back away. “I just…I should…” She starts to turn, but then she feels a hand on her wrist and heat blooms all over her body as she looks down to see Kara’s fingers wrapped around her joint and she looks up, meeting the other girl’s concerned gaze.

“Don’t leave,” Kara says, something like hope in her eyes that has Lena practically swallowing her own tongue. “You can ask. It’s okay.”

“Uh…” Lena looks down at her wrist, which feels like it’s on fire just from Kara’s simple touch. “I…um…”

“Yes?” Kara asks, stepping forward a little bit. It’s almost too much.

Lena swallows thickly. “I was wondering,” she says, “if you wouldn’t mind…um…being my next subject.”

Kara furrows her brow and tilts her head like a confused puppy. Oh god, why does she have to look like a puppy? “Your subject?” she asks.

Lena nods. “For my art class,” she explains. “Well, one of them. It’s all about accurate anatomy and we’re supposed to pick a subject—like a family member or a friend—and I’m not really close with my family and I really don’t have a lot of friends, except for Jess, but she’s really busy getting her degree in anthropology and doesn’t really have the time to spare, so I either have to pay somebody to be my model or ask around and I can totally pay you, if you need me to, but the lines of your body are really great, especially your arms, and your face, and your…everything. So it would be really great if you say yes, but you don’t have to obviously, and I can’t breathe.” Lena takes a big breath, filling her lungs with sweet, sweet oxygen and then bites her lip as she waits for Kara to process everything she’s just said.

It takes a moment, but then the blonde’s lips are breaking into a wide grin and now she’s flushing and Lena wonders how it’s possible for her to look even more gorgeous than she already did, because it really shouldn’t be.

“You think the lines of my body are beautiful?” Kara asks, her head tilting again and Lena can do nothing but nod. “Wow. That’s…that’s really sweet, Lena. How could I say no?”

“You totally can if you want,” Lena blurts. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. If it’s something you’re not comfortable with then—” Lena’s eyes practically burst from her skull when Kara reaches out and presses her fingertips to the other woman’s lips, stopping her from talking with a soft touch.

“Lena,” she laughs, “I would be honored to be your model. Is tomorrow okay?” Lena nods, Kara’s fingers still pressed against her lips, and she fights the urge to kiss the pads of her fingers. “Great!” Kara exclaims, finally removing her fingers—and Lena tries not to keen at the loss—and pulling a pen out of the pocket of her shorts, grabbing for Lena’s wrist again. “Sorry,” she says, when she sees the look of confusion on Lena’s face, “I don’t have any paper with me.”

Lena’s eyes flicker down to the sketchbook in her hands, filled with paper, but then they return to Kara’s face. Alerting Kara to this would only mean that she would stop touching her and Lena did not want that at all. So she stays quiet and tries not to swoon at this blonde goddess’s touch.

When Kara releases her wrist, Lena feels the loss, but also a buzzing where their skin touched. “Call me,” Kara says, brightly. “Or text. Whatever. We’ll find a time and place to meet tomorrow. You can even come over to my dorm; my roommate will be out all weekend, so we’ll have the place to ourselves, for art or…whatever.”

It’s the ‘whatever’ and the glint in Kara’s eyes that almost has Lena tripping over her own gay as she nods and starts backing away. “W-will do,” she says, before she turns completely away and damn near skips back toward her dorm, the numbers burning into her skin as she stares down at them written, beautifully, on her wrist.

TBC

#supercorp #supergirl #sanvers #college!au #fanfiction #everybody is queer #my spite is palpable

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