#(i thought out ‘being knocked out for procedure and my brain was just Not Having It)

[malkaleh]

I’m catching up on stuff (thank you for bearing with during this delay due to Brain). Also dental discussion in tags + abuse mention. I am also pondering which treat(s) to get for getting through:

New Leigh Bardugo book

Other???? (I was thinking a bookish candle but the shipping cost for the Thayet Candle is So Much even if I adore it.

[sanjisprincesswifey]

miracle ⋆ portgas d. ace x reader

summary: ace gets another chance

♡: non-canonical marineford events. gender-neutral reader. 1,200+ words. sfw content.

your legs shake with each step you take, the thick wood creaking at the contact.

the attempt to alleviate your panicked breathing has long since failed, causing you to seek the only person who could comfort you in a time like this.

you discard the idea of marco scolding you for disturbing ace right now, knowing the desire to see him proved to be too powerful.

you don’t bother knocking on ace’s door, opting to quietly sneak your way in instead.

he doesn’t even move when the light from the hallway fills his room for the five seconds the door was open, but after the battle that had just ensued you were sure he’d be out cold for the next week or so.

making your way over to the bed, you pick up the blanket he had discarded on the floor; a habit he had after particularly tough fights.

the springs of the mattress creak as you dip onto the bed right next to ace, even when he was sleeping, he still produced heat like a sauna. you throw the blanket over the both of you, snuggling up next to him.

thankfully, just being next to him is enough to ease some of the anxiety that coursed through your veins.

you face his bare back, his tattoo barely peeking out from the top of the bandages which were covering almost the entirety of his body.

your fingertips brush ever so slightly against the imprinted skin, his toned muscles gliding beneath your fingers.

with an arm wrapping around his waist, you inch yourself closer to him regaining comfort almost instantly.

as you press your head against him, you could feel his heartbeat through the back of his rib cage, the rhythmic beat sounds so peaceful; so calm. it was as if he had not almost lost his life nearly hours prior.

the intrusive thoughts that fill your brain are dulled out my ace’s heavy snores, but you weren’t exactly complaining about that and opting for the latter.

within the next few minutes, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, a goal you couldn’t have accomplished without ace by your side.

just as you’re about to drift into a much-needed slumber, ace begins to stir. your immediate reaction is to let go; you weren’t exactly sure how he’d react to an unexpected guest in his bed nor how you’d explain to him why you were there.

as ace flips himself over to face you, his eyes part ever so slightly as you assume he’s trying to make out who the intruder in his bed was.

“y/n?” he mumbles, his voice raspy and low.

your immediate reaction is to panic, but with the procedures marco had performed and the sedatives he had surely used, you assumed ace to be groggy.

“i’m sorry, just go back to sleep,” you assure, smiling as you sit up beside him, pushing some hair back from his face.

ace nods and does as instructed, lying back down and shutting his eyes for a couple seconds. you almost feel like you’re in the clear until ace sits back up, stretching his tired muscles and runs a hand over your cheek. “can’t get rid of me that easily,” he jokes, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

without thinking, you lean into his touch, aching for the feeling of peace you had been seeking out. it was a reaction of pure desperation and though he didn’t say it, he needed it too.

“couldn’t sleep?”

weakly nodding, you do your best to put on a smile for him, but ace sees through your facade.

he doesn’t even bother to ask what’s bothering you, it’s the same thing that was bothering everyone the second you left marineford.

he holds out his arm, motioning for you to come to him. you lean into his chest, his lips finding their way to your forehead as he gently kisses the area. your arms wrapped around his bandaged torso, gripping him with as much force as you could muster.

you can feel his lips curve into a smile against your forehead, “i actually woke up the second you opened the door. i just didn’t say anything hoping it was you.”

“ace…” you cringe, dragging out the syllable of his name. his light chuckle rumbles in his chest as you look up at him in defeat, his tired eyes still so kind as they glance back at you. 

“i couldn’t sleep,” you reiterate from earlier, “i, i needed to…i wanted to make sure you were still here.”

you can feel all the emotions from the past twelve hours beginning to bubble up all over again, your voice quivering in response. “i couldn’t lose you, ace. i, i—i need you here…with me,” you admit, holding onto his arm as you break out into a gasping sob.

ace’s hand slip underneath your shirt, bringing you closer to his body as cries of his own fall from

his lips. his other hand runs through your hair, coddling your head to him as he shakily kisses your forehead once again.

both of your bodies shudder against each other as your cries are muffled by the other’s skin. your hands run over every inch of his back both bandaged and bare, still unbelieving that the universe had granted you such a miracle.

“thank you…” he whispers in between choked sobs.

only a stifled giggle falls from your lips as it felt like such an arbitrary thing for him to say right now. “like we wouldn’t come to save you— “

he removes his hand from your hair, now cupping your cheek forcing you to look at him. more of his tears threaten to spill as if his cheeks weren’t already drenched, his bottom lip quivers as he tries his hardest to speak. “no…thank you…for loving me.”

for the first time that night, your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest, but this time it wasn’t from fear.

you glance between his eyes and lips waiting for any sort of explanation, though you knew you didn’t need one. there wasn’t anything you could say in response; you weren’t going to deny it and lie, but you couldn’t muster the courage to tell him the truth either.

“ace, listen…” you try to start, but he stops you before you get the chance.

“y/n, i got a second chance at life today. i’m not afraid anymore; i know that i, i love you…and i know you love me too.” he says it so matter-of-factly, yet so nervously.

you can feel his hand pull you with the slightest of force, you inch closer and closer to him as time moves slower and slower.

“please, say you love me,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours. you can feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as his gaze alone pleads with you to give him the answer, he so desperately desired.

allowing your actions to speak louder than words, you lean in further and connect your lips together.

ace parts your shaking lips with his own, kissing you so delicately, unbelieving that this was reality and not some heavenly dream.

when you finally manage to separate for air, ace rests his head on your shoulder, trembling in your arms.

“i love you too, my angel.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿��)

[breadbrioche]

kiss of life

so mun x reader

➳summary: you almost let your impulsive thoughts get to you while mun is asleep

➳warnings: really vague descriptions of a fight, sort of suggestive at the end but not really

➳word count: 1.5k

➳a/n: watch kim sejeong’s top or cliff music video here! My next work will be released when her music video reaches 1 million views

You can’t believe that this happened.

This seriously had to be on the top of the list of your major fuck ups because this really shouldn’t have happened. You cringe every time you think about it because you’re a counter! They were people who are supposed to protect others, and not get protected. But that’s exactly what happened.

It was a routine procedure; the evil spirit Hana sensed was fairly low leveled so only you and Mun were dispatched to deal with it. And it was going well but that was until another, stronger spirit appeared. You not considering that possibility was ultimately your downfall as you were completely focused on getting rid of the first one, not realising the other was approaching you from behind - and with a weapon.

The next moments were a jumble but you can recall Mun pushing you away, taking the blow himself. As he fell, the two evil spirits took the opportunity to run, leaving you with your teammate who was totally knocked out. Luckily, once you were back home, Ms Chu assured that there were no fatal injuries but you were still left with two evil spirits on the run and an unconscious Mun.

Watching him lay motionless in his bed, he almost looks like a sleeping princess rather than being the hero who just saved your life, as ironic as it is. He definitely looked the part too; even when he’s asleep So Mun is perfect. Especially with his silky hair, skin that all but glows when light shines on it and perfectly kissable lips.

You pause for a second. No way; there’s absolutely no way. You couldn’t kiss Mun, that would be insane! You shake your head vigorously, trying to get rid of such delusional thoughts. You couldn’t, you shouldn’t… but-

Betraying all your previous thoughts, you lean close to his face, hovering just inches away. So close that you could count every individual eyelash if you wanted to. Your eyes naturally wander to his mouth and observe how, with how lips are slightly parted, it looks as if he’s ready to receive a kiss. Only if you moved just a bit further, you would be able to-

Inhaling sharply, you clamp a hand over your mouth. You aren’t going to actually do it, reminding yourself. You’re just looking at him (and ignoring how you could’ve done that at a further, non-intimate distance). Panicking slightly, your eyes flicker back to Mun’s eyes to see if he’d caught you but to your relief, they were still closed.

Hearing your own frenzied heartbeat, you become acutely aware of your situation. Screw the incident from earlier, this was definitely the top spot on your list of major fuck ups. Even for you, this was a new all time low.

But before you could even think of what to do next, to your horror, Mun’s eyes flutter open and now you are literally face to face with the consequences of your actions. Fuck.

Mun called out your name confused, voice still rough after just waking up, which effectively snaps you out of your stupor as it causes you to fling yourself away from him instantly. A bit too fast as you lose your balance and tumble to the ground, landing on the hardwood floor with a thump.

In an instant, Mun leaps out of his bed and kneels down to assess you for injuries. He places a hand on your shoulder but you immediately push him away with a yelp - you couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you right now (if he did, your dumb brain would be too weak not stop yourself from imagining stupid delusions and you really can’t have that)

“Ah- uh- fuck, I’m sorry” you stumble, not really knowing what to say. “Just forget what you saw! I wasn’t actually gonna do anything, I promise!”

Mun’s eyebrows knit together while he pieces together what happened before he gasped, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“Hold on, were you going to kiss me?!” he yells before you hastily covered his mouth, cringing at the volume. What if someone else heard? That would be double the embarrassment and this is already too much.

“Don’t be so loud!” You hiss. “And no, I was only looking!”

He manages to wrestle your hands off his face, staring at you with a look you didn’t want to comprehend

“But it looked like you were though!” He insists, but you grimace and shake your head violently.

“What, are you some kind of princess who needs a kiss of life to wake you up?”

Mun chuckles at your response and leans closer slightly. His gaze is inquisitive, like his eyes are scouring you for clues to your upcoming answers for his questions. Mun is smart, the son of detectives after all, so you’re deathly afraid of the fact that he’ll see how you’re swallowing nervously, avoiding his gaze and just so obviously flustered and make a correct observation.

“Would you ever do it? Kiss me, that is.” Mun asks, sounding casual like this was a normal conversation topic. You narrow your eyes at him - just what sort of game is he playing at? If he’s trying to make you jump to conclusions, it sure is working for him.

“…what are you trying to say?”

Sensing your hesitance, Mun clasps your hands firmly. They squeeze yours firmly; you didn’t want to assume but, it almost felt like he was reassuring you.

“Do you like me? Because I like you and I wouldn’t have minded if you had kissed me earlier.”

You freeze. No way; there’s absolutely no way. You’re done, it’s over. There was no way this could be real. You blink hard, half expecting yourself to be hallucinating this whole situation - maybe you were the one knocked out and this was a dream. But when you open your eyes and Mun is still there with his dorky grin and all, you almost gasp.

“This is real, right? Is the guy I’ve been crushing on for ages actually confessing to me?” You murmur your thoughts dumbly. Mun laughs, nodding his head.

“So does that mean we’re dating then? I- I mean I’d love to date you but- I know that sometimes when twopeopleinagroupstartdatingthatcancausegroupdynamicsto-“

You’re so caught up with the explosion of thoughts suddenly coming at you that you hardly notice Mun leaning even closer to you and closing the space between your faces until he physically shuts you up, lips firmly on yours. But before you could even reciprocate, he’s moving away and licking his lips.

“Sorry,” Mun half apologises with a cheeky grin. “You looked cute, I couldn’t help it!”

At this point, you’re sure your brain is fried. You purse your lips together to try and formulate a response but nothing comes to you. If one simple peck had you this speechless, So Mun was going to be the death of you.

Without thinking you reach for the collar of his shirt and tug, closing the distance between you and replacing your lips on his. If Mun is going to be your cause of death, you’ll die on your own terms.

It’s initially awkward, Mun mimicking you earlier by being stunned still, but eventually you feel him relax into the kiss and even urges you to deepen it by gently pressing a hand to the back of your neck. There’s a sense of urgency to it, the both of you desperate to show your repressed feelings.

When you pull apart, you feel breathless as the adrenaline courses through your body. Shivers down your spine as you feel Mun’s strong gaze; it’s not overpowering but it’s confident - he knows what he wants (he wants you). Mun inches closer to kiss you again but before he could, your hand on his chest keeps him from moving.

“W-wait,” you huff between breaths. “Are you feeling okay? You were knocked out for a while.”

He rolls his eyes playfully with a huff; only you would stop an intimate moment just to ask about his well being.

“I’m awake now, aren’t I? I’m totally fine.” He assures you. “But there is one thing that still hurts a bit…”

Your eyes widen with concern, flickering over Mun’s body to find any hidden injuries. However, your concern is wasted when he just points at his lips which are curled into a sly smirk.

“Can you kiss it better?”

Letting out a disgusted scoff, you try to swat his face away from you but he catches your hands and makes you look at him. Mun silently pleads to you, putting on his best puppy dog eyes at you. You sigh, not having much of a choice right now.

“You’re so cheesy, you know that right?” You say before your lips meet Mun’s once again, starting like you never stopped in the first place.

[luesmainblog]

I don't have the brains to get screenshots, but the video essay in my head is going off, so some thoughts:

Elemental makes a pretty cool example of how a group can be disabled not because of their bodies being inherently Wrong somehow, but because their environment is actively hostile to them. and this adds into how there are different layers of marginalization depending on where you live.

the city is Designed for water people. because of how water folks work, it is generally Safe for air and tree people, and it isn't difficult to make some minor accommodations for their needs, but it's still consistently obvious that this city is FOR water people. They can move around it much, MUCH more freely than any of the other groups existing here.

Fire people, having needs and concerns significantly different than the other residents, are in active danger in this environment, as well as posing an accidental danger to other residents. There are obvious examples of this, like the way that the aquabus overflows its channel whenever it passes by and this causes a huge splash of water down onto the fire people's hometown, but there are also subtle examples of this.

one scene that stands out to me is the one plant man's office; absolutely OVERFLOWN with plantlife. an accommodation(?) for him which makes the area mildly annoying to get through for water people, and presumably air people, but becomes a minefield for any fire person needing to visit him in person…. which appears to be the standard procedure for withdrawing a paper sent his way. this is kind of hard to explain but disabled people can sometimes find themselves in environments where they "cause damage" because the area was NOT made with them in mind; a fire person is at a risk of lighting those plants on fire, and a person in a wheelchair is liable to knock into your shelves, for the exact same reason: they have no room to safely navigate. and this can make a really shitty situation where the disabled person is blamed for "not being careful" when the real issue is that the area should have been planned better to prevent that sort of incident.

there's also the family visit, which, JESUS there is a lot to examine there, but the two big ones: One, the casual bigotry displayed by the little kids. one of them asks "if you fall in the water, will you Die?" and then proceeds to wiggle the chair, intending to knock her into the water and find out. sadly, this is an (only slightly) exaggerated thing that real kids DO if they are not taught about disabilities and generally taught some god damn manners. a kid might pull on an oxygen chord, or push your wheelchair without asking, try to steal your cane, etc etc. this is an issue of social structure; there's certain things we're Expected to teach our kids and others that are treated as Extra, and disability often falls into Extra unless it's the specific one grandpa has.

the other is how the family gives,,, absolutely NO consideration to her needs in this house. wade and ember are left to quickly figure out how she can safely navigate a water house on their own, expected to follow right away. thankfully they're able to find something easily enough, but it's the mix of architecture and social awareness that puts her in danger just BEING in this house.

more in reblog

[randomfoggytiger]

"Sooner or Later a Man's Gotta Face His Demons"

(Fictober, Day 31)

An end to my first Fictober-- what a fun time it's been~.

*****

They were on a stakeout, an aspect of the in-betweens, of the wait-and-chase, hunt-and-catch, nine-to-five that came with the job. More mainstream work-- the everyday kind excluding conspiracies and monster men, generally-- that required hiding in plain sight. It was an opposite set of skills to their usual modus operandi, a good exercise to knock the rust from their joints and reacquaint themselves with procedure. Less satisfying, but no less rewarding. 

The idling car was wrapped in fog, the yellow glare of the headlights splicing through the breathy autumn air. Warmth languidly settled on its passengers, coating them in a bone-deep relaxation that was battled every hour or two by fiddling with the temperature. No place to go but here, no other person in the world except the one on either side of the seat. 

Scully half-expected her breath to mark the air when she broke the silence. “Mulder, how come we’ve never investigated a case on Samhain?” 

“What do you mean?” The unspoken commandment now broken, he greedily cracked open a sunflower seed. The sacred dark was next to be disturbed: the driver side door popped open unceremoniously-- the window still fixedly stuck-- and a shell was spit across the frosty road. Maybe, hopefully, it would snow soon.  

“Samhain? Gaelic pagan tradition? Predecessor to All Saints Day which precedes All Souls Day? Men and women and children parading in masks, going door to door to ward off demons? The door to the spirit realm being opened once a year? Any of this--” she paused, accepted the shelled compact of salt Mulder handed her, “--ringing a bell?” 

“You got any fairies you want to catch up with, Scully?”

“Samhain, Mulder.”

He shrugged. “We just… never got around to it.” 

“...'We’.” 

“There is a partnership here, Scully-- yin and yang, push and pull, give and take.”

She weighed his words, rolling the seed around in her palm. “So, we never investigated Samhain because I never brought it up.”

“And because you, the resident Irish Catholic,” Mulder reminded, pointing a finger in her direction, “never brought it up, I thought it was unimportant. Therefore, no Samhain.”

“I think you’re afraid.” Scully was surprised-- and pleased-- that she had so swiftly and so thoroughly appalled her partner.

“Afraid? We’ve already seen ghosts, Scully-- a few more spooks or spirits isn’t going to bother me. Besides, you seem to attract them in abundance, little Gaelic woman.” 

“And the ritualistic, celebratory bonfires have… no sway in your decision?”

The silence was back for a temporary pit stop, crackling with suppressed sheepishness and bubbling mirth as Mulder smirked, caught, and Scully grinned, amused. He reached forward to fiddle with the heater, and she sat back to avoid the expected colder blast of air. 

“Scully, did I ever tell you about the time we almost investigated a fire-breathing goblin in Minnesota?” 

“No kidding.” 

She shifted closer, letting her eyes drift to his recently razed hair. Remembered the patches over his surgical scars, remembered his determined eyes when he asked her to cut it shorter. Reclamation, they’d both thought; vanity they’d both bantered. Mulder the phoenix, brain on fire and rising from the ashes. Waited for him to dole out another of the hoarded secrets he’d been sharing since his recovery.  

“The locals called it 'the cinder leprechaun’ until an Irishman got into a public brawl over the finer points of Irish mythology. He was running for mayoral election; and you can guess how popular he was at the polls that year.”

“I see. And was he the first to witness this fire-breathing goblin?” 

“Almost; but not quite.” 

Mulder shifted closer as well, placing the sunflower bag in a coaster and scooping up his discarded coat from the back. Scully let him settle it around her, even let him tuck her in before nudging her partner back on track. 

“Mulder, who did see it first?”

“Two witnesses-- same time, different stories. Both sober or thereabouts.” 

She burrowed deeper into her new blanket. “Then what really happened?”

“Well, without being there to know for certain, I'd say it's the same as always, Scully.” Mulder left her in suspense-- not purposefully-- as he mulled over life, Samhain, and the pursuit of leprechauns. “The truth happened somewhere in-between.” 

Scully nodded, playfully tilting her head in his direction. "Where does my Samhain bonfire come into this, Mulder?"

As one unit they chuckled, grabbed another snack, and communed in the language of their own traditions.

Neither were disappointed.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[cactusspatz]

September recs

All Nine Worlds fic this month, mostly canon-divergence AUs, presented in alphabetical order because why not:

Backslide by Owlwinter

After eight hundred glorious years of working together, his Radiancy is rather distressed at the news of his secretary’s probable death. Or: in which a certain landslide happens far earlier than in canon.

In which the Emperor has a very badass planetary mage reaction to Kip being presumed dead.

dancing like we did last night by Ariaste

“I love you, and I’m forming a committee about it.” Fitzroy spluttered on a laugh. “A committee? And what is the purpose of this committee, my Lord Mdang? I believe it has to be, what, two sentences or less?” “The purpose is to love you.” “Ah, truly poetic simplicity,” - Cliopher gets his shit together, weaponizes parliamentary procedure in his own brain, and finally does some self-examination and clear communication. Fitzroy is just happy to be here.

This one's been recced all over for good reason! Adorable premise, fantastic execution, wonderfully romantic and thoughtful look at the ins and out of being a sex-positive asexual in a relationship.

diving for a flame pearl by ariex09

It took me an appalling three hours and thirteen minutes to even realize that Kip was gone. Ah, but that was too charitable. Once we had a timeline together, we discovered that Franzel had seen Kip last, turning in for bed at twelve minutes before midnight, and it was not until Shoänie went to wake him at dawn that anyone knew he was anything but asleep in bed. This meant that by the time the knock on my study door came, shortly past the third hour of the morning, Kip could already have been missing for more than nine hours. In which Cliopher goes missing midway through The Hands of the Emperor. Fortunately, he has friends and family willing to do whatever it takes to bring him home.

So many fanoa feelings, a marvelous adventure, and an always-excellent Ludvic.

Friday Keeps Coming Next by rattyjol

Cliopher's first morning with the Sun-on-Earth was everything he could have dreamed of, until it wasn’t. or: Cliopher and his Radiancy break time. Again.

Delightful and epic time loop fic kicking off after their first meeting.

Saving Fitzroy by kerithwyn

Sardeet gets arrested.

AU where Sardeet actually makes it to the Emperor, and handles things in her inimitable Sardeet way. My heart grew three sizes, I swear.

We’ll Make It Right For You by Owlwinter

You turn to look at Cliopher in absolute, utter betrayal. Cliopher discovered that you have daughters - daughters! – and brought them to the Palace!? Here, the name Damara would smother any child of yours with taboo and tradition, any ounce of freedom stripped painfully away- “While away, I encountered these two girls, named Circe and Aurelia,” Cliopher tells you, steady as the rock on which the world has always turned. “With your permission, my lord, I will adopt them myself, and raise them as my daughters here in the Palace of Stars.” Or: in which rumors reach the Lord Chancellor of two teenage girls with golden lion eyes.

Never thought I'd want kidfic in this fandom, but it's immensely charming, and I loved seeing the ways their relationship did and did not change with the added co-parenting. (why are they LIKE this?!)

[the-lavender-clown]

I cannot for the life of me decide on which of the three routes to go with for my rottmnt future au “Love and War”

Like there’s the OG plan where Donnie is Krangifed and Cass ends up having to kill him as he kills her and I love it because that scene would be so gut wrenching! And then in the last moments of life Donnie would come back to himself as his life flashes before his eyes and they die in each others arms, able to have just one last moment to love each other. I adore it and it’s so beautifully angsty.

But then there’s the second option I came up with later where instead of being Krangifed the Krang want to use Donnie for his brain but at this point the turtles have built up very good mental walls and they can’t get through them like they did Raph’s in the movie. Him being completely uncooperative they decide to throw him in the Prison Dimension for the time being while they wait to figure out a way to break through his mind or he goes insane and his walls crumble that way. Later Cass is on a mission to get the key and fails to do so, resulting in her ending up in the PD when a Krang (not sure which yet) shoves her in, only saying to say hello to her little friend and they hope he hasn’t lost his mind yet for her sake. Donnie has gone feral from his time in there but Cass is able to snap him out of it eventually even if he never really loses all of that savage aspect of him. Because of *insert PD hcs and random thoughts* they’re in there when present Leo is and play a hand in saving him and escape with him so Casey gets both parents back in the end after thinking both were dead for years.

The last one is Donnie still being Krangifed but he and Cass don’t kill each other like in the first one so they’re both alive when Casey is sent through the portal. A moment after he is Donnie comes in and tackles both accidentally sending them through the portal and because of the time that passes between Casey going in and them, no matter how brief, they get spit out a few weeks after the invasion and Casey and the present gang go to see what the random mystic energy surge was only to find an old Leo and Cass fighting and trying to subdue or kill a frankly terrifying looking Donnie. Maybe it’s a tranquilizer shot by present Dee or something else but F!Don is knocked out and they keep him under containment after that to see if they can cure him. Because he’s no longer flooded with the thoughts and orders of the future Krang hive mind and the one that exists in the present is so quiet and weak Don’s consciousness is able to actually fight back again and he occasionally has moments where he successfully breaks through for a moment to say something to his family. They can’t release him however because he’s still very much not cured. They do find a way to cure him eventually thanks to Draxum but it’s a very painful procedure where they basically burn the parasites, and consequently him, alive to get rid of them. It’s a gamble on if he’d live or not but it’s that or nothing and Cass refuses to let him live like this for any longer even at the risk of killing him. He wouldn’t want that and they all know it. They do it and he does live but it’s a long road to recovery and he’s never the same of course but really none of them are after all the trauma and at least they’re together again.

In the second and third options F!Don would find away to bring back all his brothers and April too. In the first everyone stays dead for simplicity’s sake.

They all have such good angst potential and I love them but I just can’t decide!!

[sio-writes]

A Botanist's Guide: Chapter 11

<< Chapter 10

<< Chapter 1

Tags for this chapter (spoilers ahead): This chapter is nsfw, and contains vaginal sex

The week brings zero resolution, and zero answers. The constant onslaught of nothingness and boring procedure has kept me in a state of limbo, between wanting to ask and being afraid of the answer. And in either situation, the milestone and whatever the fuck is happening with Kri, it's driving me crazy. My leg keeps bouncing up and down as my brain tries to spread out the extra energy. I keep thinking of what could go wrong-- what will go wrong-- in the days leading up to the review. 

The results from the presentation are due back any day now, and I haven't heard anything. Sometimes that's a good thing, like hearing your name called last and you win the regional award for best baking soda volcano at the science fair. But in my experience here, no news is bad news. It means they're mulling it over, that I didn't do as well as I thought I did. Maybe all those jokes and pats on the back from the board were meant to soften the blow. Maybe I celebrated too early.

Jillie's hand on my shoulder makes me jump, dropping the pH scale on the floor.

"Are you alright?" she asks, her perfect eyebrows pulled down in concern as she bends down to pick the scale up and hand it to me.

I'd been spacing out-- again. It's been happening all week, and no matter what I do, I just can't get it together. There's too many thoughts trying to take up the limited space in my brain, with so many of them revolving around the single presence in the room that I can't ignore.

Kri has returned to his auditing routine, but only shows up when it's mandatory, now once a week. The time we all spend together has been cut to a fraction of what it was, leaving just enough room for him to bicker with me over the water and nothing else.

I should be glad for it-- he's putting distance between us like I wanted, he's back to his super professional self instead of the curious, sarcastic, blindingly earnest alien I wanted to know better. But maybe it's for the best. After thinking it over, his hesitance at coming into my apartment was a refusal, no matter what cultural lens it's seen through. A rejection, clear as day. And I'm trying not to focus on it too much, I'm really not, but it's hard when the guy is sitting fifteen feet away from me.

I allow my scattered thoughts a brief reprieve, and sigh heavily before patching it over with a limp smile. "Nervous."

She pats me on the shoulder. "About what? You knocked it out of the park."

I chew on my nail because my bottom lip is bleeding from biting at it all day. I can't ask Kri, because he's not talking to me. I thought he was being professional for the presentation, but his aloofness has extended into the week. He probably wouldn't tell me anyway, but at least he'd explain why instead of looking at me like I'm a stray mark on his stupid clipboard.

Thinking about anything for too long puts me in a spiral, but I don't know any other method to deal with it other than let it play out in my brain until I have a panic attack. My thoughts, my emotions, they all feel too big for my head, and letting them overflow like a stupid baking soda volcano is what it takes to sort things out. I won't have any answers, but it would stop my leg from bouncing up and down for three hours straight.

Jillie pats my shoulder and turns back to her laptop, and I hazard a glance at Kri across the room. He's deep in something on his clipboard, but that alien-sixth sense must've kicked in because he immediately stops writing and glances up at me.

This crush hasn't gotten any better, to put it mildly. Even when he's acting like the coldest of the cold, he's still considerate. Taking time to leave quietly, never raising his voice, things that seem to be constants no matter whether he's pissed at me or not. The few times we've gotten in each other's face he still radiates warmth, he still smells like fresh water, crisp and clean. Jillie's presence is keeping me grounded, keeping me from hopping into his lap while I twirl a piece of my hair around my finger. I'd gladly suffer in silence for the rest of the year if I could have the Kri that helped me grow plants back.

Kri raises his brow at me, annoyance clear on his face. "Yes?"

Caught, my cheeks burn as I shake my head. "Nothing," and I turn back to the planters.

The relaxation celebration from last week has burnt out of my system, leaving in its place a sour, empty feeling that liquid anxiety likes to fill in.

I'm not glad for this…whatever our friendship has evolved into now. It's like the beginning all over again, like he hit the reset button on his personality and left the rest of us to figure it out. I've even been messing up on purpose. Nothing that would hurt the plants, they're delicate enough as is, but enough that would usually make him stare at me oddly, or mention I was doing it wrong, something that told me that he was paying attention and would start an argument.

Instead, he just glanced at my hands, shook his head, and noted it on his board. 

I want to tear my hair out. I know what I did wrong, inviting him to my house was a mistake, but is that really cause to shut us all out completely? He and Jillie were just getting the hang of speaking to each other, and me and my big mouth had to go and ruin it. Maybe he never changed to begin with, if his commentary on my clothing is anything to go by. To think I could have offended him that badly is a thorn in my side. That the idea of being with me made him take a look at our friendship and tear it to pieces? 

Even so, every time we make eye contact, the words are just underneath my tongue, so close I have te clench my jaw around what my heart desperately wants to scream out. A confession, loud and clear, like the movies-- "You can have me, body and soul," and then I sweep all the (very, very expensive) lab equipment off the table and strike a sexy pose that has him on his knees and everything is okay, it's all gonna work out fine. And then I get my milestone results back and the board is so impressed they decide to give me two greenhouses instead of a communal one.

Yeah, right. I'll suffer alone, thanks.

We all spend the rest of the work day in silence, the speakers from my mp3 Player useless against the litany of emotions crashing against my mind like a pissed off ocean current. But I have work to do, and I'm going to do it well. Now isn't the time to be caught up in petty disputes, no matter how important I feel they are.

A lot gets done, but I'm not satisfied as we close up the lab. In fact, I want to fall into another drink. Kri is long gone, having packed up his shit almost in a hurry before stepping out, leaving Jillie and I on our own. It's like old times, just the two of us as we wander the halls back to the cafeteria for dinner.

I grab food through sheer muscle memory-- an orange, a sandwich, some chips and a drink, knowing full well that I need to eat it, but with zero desire. My appetite is gone, my stomach is in so many knots I was lucky to get a smoothie down at lunch.

I don't say much, and Jillie seems as exhausted as I am as we find an unoccupied booth and slide in. The lack of work and distractions leaves space for my mind to wander like I'd been pushing off all day. 

I could be mad at so many things, and I feel my anger like a rolling thunderstorm as I take a pointed bite of sandwich. It's pushing past the other emotions, making itself present, unavoidable.

The sandwich is bland, and tastes like soap as I chew angrily.

What the fuck was in his audit-- I mean really, notes on my outfits? What the hell, Kri? And why is he suddenly acting like the past month hasn't happened? I know it did, and I know I fucked up, but isn't it a common courtesy to explain these things? We're both adults, I can handle rejection, but it he's going about it in such a juvenile way. I need to know, in no uncertain terms, that he wants nothing to do with me anymore. Then I can sigh, maybe cry a little, and fucking move on with my life.

I thought we had something. Clearly I was wrong, but I thought we could stay friends at the very least. That would be the adult thing to do, but he's been acting like a child. Pissing me off.

Jillie sits up suddenly, patting her pockets, and her face drops. "Oh, shit."

I'm pulled out of my whirlpool of self-pity. "What's up?"

She grimaces. "Could I ask a huge favor?"

I raise my eyebrows, indicating she should go on.

"I think I left the oxygenator on for the last planters." She grimaces, patting over her pockets again. "And my keys in the lab."

Jillie doesn't usually make mistakes like that. It must be a weird day for everyone. 

"I got it," I say, pushing away from the table, wanting to feel useful at least once today. I grab the mandarin orange from my tray and start to peel it as I head towards the door, hoping the smell will activate my stomach.

"You're the best!" Jillie says over my shoulder, and I flip her off as I walk away.

I head towards the lab, grumbling to myself the whole way. It's not a far walk, but I'm working myself into an angry tizzy by the time I slap my key card to the door and it slides open.

Yep, the oxygenator is still on. I click it off and the room falls silent

Jillie's desk is organized, which is strange, but I can't find the key in any drawer, no matter how many times I open them. I move to the countertop that lines the wall, sorting through the mess of papers, plastic pipettes and junk food wrappers. God, we need to have a cleaning day in here.

I'm sorting for another few minutes when I hear Jillie's footsteps come in behind me.

"Sorry, Jills," I start to say as I straighten, and then I stop. It's not Jillie. Kri is peering into a shelf on the opposite wall. 

I frown. "You're not Jillie."

Kri turns his head to face me, looks down at himself, then back to me. "No, I suppose I'm not."

I roll my eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"Picking up the last of my things, apparently." Kri says, his tone clipped like just talking to me is an inconvenience. "I am missing a notation board, and I believe I left it somewhere…" He trails off, switching from searching the shelf to my desk, and I'm struck by the image of our first meeting when he did the exact same thing.

"Hey--! Get out!" Jillie's keys forgotten, I stomp over and pull his arms away from the drawers. Kri doesn't budge, instead tearing himself away from my grip and walking back to the shelf he already checked. Shame burns through me, bright and heated, and I have to clamp my mouth around the words it wants to say.

"Why're you acting like this?!"

Kri sighs, weary, and folds his arms over his chest. "Professional? We are coworkers, as you say."

"This isn't professional! You're back to--" I wave my hands around as if that'll convey what I want to say. "Like when we started out." I start tossing garbage to the ground, hoping to find Jillie's stupid keys so I can leave. "Look, I know I pissed you off--"

"You've never angered me."

My hands close around Jillie's lanyard and I rip it from it's hiding place. I shake the small plastic card at him as I stomp towards the door. "Don't! Lie to me!"

"And I have never lied to you."

"Withholding the truth is still lying!!" 

"Respectfully, I think--"

"Shut up! Shut! Up! Don't you ever stop talking?!" I smash the buttons for the door--wrong code, shaky fingers-- once more, right code. The door almost opens but stops halfway before sliding back. Oh, you've got to be-- I punch the code again. "And what else have you lied to me about, huh?! What else could possibly--" The door cuts me off with a droning buzz, and a strip of lights in the ceiling go red before it shutters closed.

Well, fuck.

"No no no--" the door buzzes, shuddering as it attempts to open, fails, and falls still. I run my hands over my head and pull on the ends of my hair. "Fuck!"

I smack the "Open" button again. The door jolts, there's the sound of creaking metal, and the resounding buzz of an error message. The door flashes red, and I smack it with my open palm.

Vigorously pressing the button only loops the buzz of the error message, and I hold back a scream.

I gesture to the door. "You're strong, can't you…?"

Kri stares at me for a second, expression blank before his eyes roll dramatically. He sets his hands to the door, all four of them, and heaves his shoulders. Once, then again. The door doesn't even shudder.

I hear Jillie's voice on the other side, "Cass?"

"Jill--!"

"You were taking too long! I came to find you." and she says something else, but the door shudders again and the creaking metal drowns her out. "Sit tight, I'm gonna grab maintenance, okay?"

"Great, just fucking perfect." I start to pace the room. "Of all the people to get stuck with--!" I smack the keypad for the door again, and it responds with the same error beep. Why today? Why now? Things were just starting to flow in the lab again until--

I groan, pulling at my hair. "She set us up! Now I'm stuck in here with you! Why would she do this to me?" I groan and slap the door again. It doesn't help me feel any better and the metal hurts my hand.

Kri steps back and leans against my desk, his arms crossed tightly over his frame. He's not looking at me and-- oh, right, I told him to shut up. Just because the guy is stoic doesn't mean he's emotionless.

I self-consciously rub my arm. "Sorry, I shouldn't have told you to shut up."

Kri looks at me, his expression calculating, before he sighs. "I don't believe she acted alone."

I glare at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I asked Ari to deliver my things to my home, they likely colluded with Dr. Masters to get us in here."

I groan. "Perfect, that's just fucking perfect. Stuck in here with you."

I feel it coming, a panic attack, like the shore emptying out before a tsunami. First the presentation, then learning I accidentally invited him into my bed, and now this? It's overwhelming, it's too much. For fucks' sake I don't ask for much, all I want is answers!

I press a hand to my tightening chest, my breathing picking up and my heart starting to race. Yep, there's the panic. 

Kri's voice is tight when he says, "You've mentioned that," before ke kicks off my desk and continues his search. Is he serious?

I plant my hands on my hips. "Why are you ignoring me?"

Kri sighs. "I am searching for my board."

"It's not in here, you idiot!"

Kri heaves a larger sigh, annoyed. "Dr. Rowland, is this really conductive to--"

"Cassie! My name is Cassie! Cassandra! Or are we not friends anymore?! Were we even friends to begin with? Or is that something else you've lied to me about?!"

We're gonna be stuck in here for a while. Maintenance is on the opposite side of the building, and they take their sweet ass time going anywhere. We could be in here for over an hour. I could be stuck with him for over an hour. I bend over, hands on my knees, and try to gulp down air.

Kri rests a hand on my shoulder, and I wrench away from him. I need something to focus on so the attack doesn't start up again.

"Look, I know I fucked up asking you into my house, but that's no reason to be a dick!"

His brow furrows, and he walks to the countertop, putting space between us. "What're you talking about?"

I take a deep breath, something to steady myself within this rising storm. The panic is ebbing, slowly but surely with each breath, but on it's heels comes a flush of embarrassment. "I know what it means, I'm not an idiot!"

He goes tense, his shoulders set back, his hands gripping the countertop behind him. "You knew?"

"Well, I didn't then! But I do now! And I'm sorry that I fucked with your delicate sensibilities! Because I know it's a fucking travesty to imagine yourself with me but that's no excuse to treat me like shit!"

"Is that what you think?" And oh, he's angry now, his voice is deep and dangerous and it's doing things to my head that I can't begin to process because I'm still set on being angry.

My panic is gone, replaced with something that burns in my chest, trying to claw its way out. "Yes! I know it! Because you don't have feelings for me the way I do!"

The world goes silent.

I didn't mean to say that, I really shouldn't have opened my mouth. My face is on fire, but I can't take it back. It's out there now, if it wasn't obvious before. My brain is screaming, my heart is pounding, the room is too warm and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

And for once Kri seems at a loss for words. Like I’ve stunned him. He's not saying anything, but I can make up for that.

“Every fucking time when--it's--“ the words catch in my throat and my voice pitches up. It feels like I'm clawing out my throat. “It's not the same, that's fine and-- I can keep going. But I thought maybe-- I thought we were okay! I thought we could at least stay friends! But if you don't feel the same you could at least tell me or--"

Kri is on me in half a second, hands on my face to keep me still as he presses our lips together, and what I meant to say instantly crumbles to dust in my mouth.

I smell rain; fresh dirt and rain, sharp and crisp. He's soft around the lips, and so warm. His hands are on my face, cupping me gently but with purpose, and I wish my hands would do something other than hover uselessly in the air because I want to grab. I want to touch. I want to sink into the comfort he's offering.

And then it's over. He pulls back, just enough to whisper against my lips, "How could I not want you?" 

My heart flutters and-- No, no, absolutely not! I'm still pissed off! He can't just kiss me and make it all better and-- He leans in and kisses me again. It's just as good as the first, if not better because it's the second time and we may even kiss a third. 

This feels like whiplash, and I should be upset at the back and forth, the push and pull of a stupid man trying to come to terms with his feelings. But right now, as his arms go around my waist, I just melt, my brain turning to mush. Because he feels the same. 

Maybe that sexy pose idea would've worked after all.

I'm the one to pull away this time, if only to catch my breath. I murmur, "You're infuriating."

Kri looks like I slapped him. "I apologize, I--"

"Shut up," I breathe, pulling his face back in and kissing him a third time. My eyes flutter shut, and Kri's hands cup my jaw. We slot together like we were made for each other. 

I'm so relieved, so glad, relaxing into his chest and winding my arms around his neck. What a way to find out the feeling was mutual. I hate that we had to be forced into this situation, but I'll let Jillie slide this time, just because I'm thankful. 

I have to pull away to breathe. The moment lapses, and I feel a twinge of hysteria bubble up in my chest. "So you're not rejecting me--?"

His responding laugh is sharp. "Never."

I tilt my head into another kiss, opening my mouth on a soft groan as Kri slips his tongue between my lips. I wrap my arms over his neck, and the plating under my hands is soft. My fingers map the edges as they overlap, memorizing the small divots of his glow-channels as they trace around his wings. I idly draw my finger over the divot and Kri shivers, his groan vibrating through his chest. The sound drips heat through my nether regions that I affect him so easily, and I want to know what else makes him shudder, what makes him moan. I wonder if he wants the same for me.

"I can't believe you," I say between one kiss and the next. "Holding out on me like this." 

Kri finally leans back, taking a moment to look over my face. "Allow me to make it up to you," he says, his thumb brushing over my cheek. His eyes are lidded, hazed over and soft. I swallow past a lump in my throat and welcome him into my mouth as he leans forward to kiss me again because neither of us can get enough of it. 

Kri leads me backwards, his tongue rubbing against mine in small thrusts as the fingers on my waist begin to poke underneath my shirt, that simple brushing of skin making my muscles jump. I have to let go of his neck to shuck my lab coat, and I step over it just as my back hits the wall. 

The cold demeanor he's been wearing all week is gone, melted away by his own warm hands cradling the back of my head so it doesn't hit the wall. The familiar, confident being with gentle touch is back, exploring under my shirt, grabbing my ass through my jeans. 

Cornered in like this, I'm acutely aware of his height, his size, blocking me in like I'm not allowed to leave. I push up onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck, only feeling the hands on my thighs at the last second as Kri picks me up and sets me against the wall.

And oh, this is nice. I've never been picked up like this, and the position does something to my head. The height, the hands under my thighs holding me up and the gentle way they squeeze, almost as if in appreciation.

My legs go around his waist, the shift making me taller than Kri, so he pushes up into the kiss, his tongue running sensually along mine before he pulls away. He presses his lips to my neck, parting for that hot tongue against my skin, and I gasp against it, arousal pooling between my legs.

My jeans are too tight, my t-shirt too hot. So I pull my arms back and throw my shirt to the floor, my bra quick behind it. I expect the air to be cold, it always is, it's why I wear long jeans in the lab even through summer, but Kri radiates warmth. 

"There's a perfectly good countertop over there," I say between kisses, gesturing with a hand to the general idea of the countertop.

"But I am right here. And," his wings flutter, and he presses his face into my neck. "I confess this has been a prevalent fantasy of mine."

My eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise. "Oh," I say, and a smile, unbidden, finds its way across my face. "Was this fantasy also inside the lab?"

Another wing flutter, then, "If you would prefer that I--"

"No no, this is good. This is…" His teeth bite into my shoulder, and I inhale sharply. "This is perfect."

Curious hands sneak up my shirt, pushing it up around my waist, and my clothes are too scratchy, too restricting. The urge to strip, to be bare and feel Kri against my naked skin, it moves behind my ribcage like a snake, has me arching into him so my sensitive nipples brush his soft matte plating. The hard line of his cock, covered in plating at the moment, brushes the bottom of my thigh. His tongue swipes along the skin over my collarbone, the combined sensations pulling a small sound of pleasure from me and making my arms go right back around his neck.

The hot point of his long tongue over my skin makes me break out in goosebumps as he tastes me. He moves down, over my breasts, pulling a nipple into his mouth with a sensual lick over the tip that has my toes curling in my boots.

He focuses his mouth on the one, teasing the other with a small, tortuous movements of his fingers, pulling sound after sound from me like he's playing an instrument. I forget if ento are into oral at all, but by god do I want to find out.

I'm dizzy with arousal as he licks into my mouth again. Kri kisses me like he can't get enough, like I'm going to disappear if his lips stop touching mine. It's hypnotic, I've never felt this intoxicated by one person.

He pulls away to rest his forehead against mine. "Can I fuck you?"

I did not expect him to ask so directly, and I did not expect to find it so hot. I squeak instead of responding, and he chuckles, the sound low and erotic. 

The fingers digging into my ass squeeze. "Please," he murmurs into my skin, his breath huffing onto my chest. 

I clench my fingers and clear my throat to find my voice. If I was turned on before, I'm soaked now. 

"That--that sounds great." Not the sexiest response in the world, but fuck it, if it gets Kri inside me I'll say what I have to.

He starts to work open my jeans, pulling them down over my hips and taking my underwear with them. He makes to set me down, but the idea of being completely naked in my own laboratory is too much. Too intimate with the alien in front of me, at least right now. So I squeeze my legs around his waist and he takes the hint, hoisting me back up, keeping my jeans mid-way down my thighs. 

My anxiety creeps in, here to ruin the mood. "What if they fix the door?" 

Kri nips at my skin. "We'd better hurry up then," and he sounds far too confident, too level-headed for how taken apart I feel. 

One of his hands moves off my body, reaching below and inwards towards his pelvis. Something shifts with a wet noise, like lube out of a bottle, and Kri sighs out, resting his weight into me. 

I try to lean over, just to see what I'm working with, but as steady as Kri's hands are keeping me, I don't trust myself not to overcorrect and bust my ass on the tile. The scientific portion of my brain wants to see, to examine and study. We got a brief overview of ento anatomy before landing, but that was three years ago. Besides, each human dick is slightly different, the same should apply for ento dick. And I really, really want to see Kri's. 

But the crotch of my jeans are in the way, and Kri's fingers tweaking my nipple are distracting, and I'm more turned on than I have been in years-- including when I was with Stephen. So looking can wait. 

I pull Kri in by the neck, burying my face in the slope where it meets his shoulder, and holding tight. The heat simmering beneath my skin has turned into a broil. I need to forget about everything else, I need to focus on what's here and now. I need him. 

Kri adjusts himself beneath me, shifting my hips in his grasp, and-- I feel his cock at my entrance. It's hot, hotter than the rest of him, and slick as he drags it up to my throbbing clit, although that slickness may just be me. 

That slight brush over my clit sends a jolt of sensation up my spine, and I want him to do it again, over and over. But he runs it down the center again, positioning his cock head-- if he has one-- at my core, and knocks his head against my temple. 

"Tell me if it is too much." 

My mouth opens on a cheeky retort, but it's ripped away when he pushes in, instead coming out as a moan, open-mouthed against his plating, my fingers digging in as I feel ridges and a distinct curvature that pushes deliciously along my walls. He's big, no surprise there, but I wasn't prepared for how full it would make me feel, how as his hips sit against my ass, I feel like I'm being split open. 

Kri sighs out next to my ear as he bottoms out, and I crook my elbow to wrap a hand around his head. "You okay over there?" 

"I'm not going to last," he replies, sounding absolutely wrecked. Even as he takes another breath, his cock twitches inside me, sending a spiraling heat through my abdomen. 

Still, I pat his head, placating. "Quit showing off and fuck me."

He doesn't argue, instead taking another steadying breath before he pulls out almost completely and thrusts back in, starting with a slow pace that helps me adjust to the sheer size of him. It starts as a stretch, which turns into a burn, which dissolves into a bone-deep ache for more, which Kri happily obliges by canting his hips forward and pressing me into the wall.

My soft, feminine panting turns into open-mouthed moans as the curved end of his cock brushes my G-spot on every thrust, making me dizzy with arousal and my clit ache to be touched. I don't care how I sound, I don't care if the whole building can hear me, I only need Kri to know how good he's making me feel.

One of Kri's hands wraps around my jaw, his fingers splaying over my hair as he presses his lips to my neck and licks a slow line up to my ear. The other hand travels-- teasing my hardened nipples, walking over my stomach and thighs, not trying to evoke any response, but feeling just because he can. He squeezes my waist when I moan his name, responding with an equally wrecked sound and slamming me down onto his hard cock.

"I'm very close," Kri breathes into my shoulder. "Do you want me to--"

"No," I shake my head and press a heated kiss to his temple, locking my legs around his waist. "Please, stay."

He moans a short sound into my shoulder, the hands on my ass squeezing as his wings flutter over my feet. "Whatever you want."

I'm lost to the sensations, lost within Kri. My spine goes taut and my toes curl inward, I'm so close to coming from this alone, and I want to stop just to draw it all out and do it again. This feels like finding a puzzle piece I didn't know I was missing. Something has slotted in my brain that I didn't realize was off-kilter. Not the sex alone, but the validation. That Kri wanted me as much as I wanted him.

His cock hits a spot inside me that makes my vision white out, and I'm pushed over the edge. My muscles go rigid and I clamp my arms around his head and I think I gasp out his name as I come hard. The world goes silent as I'm flooded by sensation, blossoming out from my spine to the tips of my toes.

As I come down, there's hands petting my hair, over my face, the outsides of my thighs. Kri is mumbling, not in English or even Universal, but in his native tongue. It's a watery, flowing language, interspersed with chirps and rolling R's that sound like he's purring. I don't know what he's saying, but the attention warms my heart.

His hips have stilled, and there's a liquid warmth drawing a line down the cleft of my ass. He must've come right after me, and my chest tightens at the idea that we came together. I've always been a sap for that kind of thing, it feels like an emotional connection.

Kri's hands wind around my middle, up my back to cradle my head as he catches his breath.

My mind is in similar tatters, I'm running on pure instinct, and right now I want to kiss him. So I tap his head with one hand. "Up."

He tilts his head back far enough to give me a perplexed expression, and I take a second to drink in his face. There's no hair to be messed up, but there's little signs. His lips are swollen and parted as he stares at me, his gaze is lidded as it lazily searches my face. The expression behind his black eyes is heated, not the fiery passion of a few moments ago, but a subdued, long-lasting heat that tells me he's not done with me.

I lean forward and capture his lips in my own, and he accommodates me easily. We make no moves to separate from each other, and I like it that way. Kri slips out of me, and I realize too late that he's tucking himself away before I had a chance to see anything, but I can blame it on his very distracting lips against mine. 

Carefully, he lowers me to the floor. My legs are unsteady, but he keeps me pressed against the wall for balance. He helps me back into my jeans, hands careful and even working to rebutton them, all the while not detaching from my lips. I adjust my underwear until it's comfortable, flinching at the wetness trying to escape and tagging this pair of panties as a lost cause. That's okay, I decide

I could do this forever, I could kiss him for another hour and not get tired. But I'm starting to feel the cold of the lab seep into my skin, making me shiver even with his warm body pressed into mine.

I smile against his mouth and pull back, my smile turning to a grin when he chases after me. 

"Come on, I have to put my clothes back on," I say as he starts on my neck. I give him a weak shove that only spurs him on. 

"No you don't," he grumbles. "You humans and your clothing. All it does is get in the way." 

"Think about it this way, you can tear it off." Kri backs off, his expression falling, then rolling through several other emotions as he thinks through the concept. The final wide-eyed, very interested stare he lands on makes me snort into laughter.

I pick up my bra off the floor and pull it on, laughing again at how Kri scuttles behind me to see how the clasps work. 

"So your grand plan to ignore your feelings," I say. "What was it?"

Kri scoffs as he hands me my shirt. "It was rather stupid."

I grab my labcoat, throwing it on before I step to the center countertop and hop onto the ledge, kicking my feet. "Tell me so I can laugh at you."

He sighs, grabbing my hands and interlacing our fingers. "I believed we were getting too…familiar."

I purse my lips. "And you didn't think to let me know instead of just doing a one-eighty?" 

"I was thinking with my emotions, not my head."

"Yeah, well, you're an idiot."

He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to my knuckles. "I am." Another kiss. Kri's eyes scan my face, and he looks wholly content. He cups my cheek with one hand. "Is it crossing a line to tell you I have dreamt of this?"

"Sap," I say, hiding my grin in the collar of my labcoat. "How, uh…How does it compare?" 

Kri gives me a curious look, scanning my face, then gives me a half-smile while tracing a finger down my arm. "My raw data is inconclusive. I require a larger sample size." 

I bat his hand away. "Oh my god." 

"But," he adds, kissing me gently, but still containing enough heat to short circuit my brain. "As far as first impressions go, my imagination has some catching up to do."

I smile at his words, wanting to tuck my face into my coat again. It may just be the post-sex haze talking, but Kri makes me feel so cherished. I could lose hours under his attention. Even outside of sex, he makes me feel special, and a small, quiet part of my brain is telling me that's how Stephen acted too, but I'm too content, too mushy to worry about it right now.

A yawn creeps it's way through me, and I fall against Kri's chest. I hear his heart beating, slow and steady, and when he hums it travels down his chest and into my head.

"Tired?" he asks, running a hand over my hair.

"Don't get smug about it," I grumble, half of my face pressed into his plating.

"Come," he says, gathering me in his arms and lifting me off the counter. My arms go around him immediately, and he sits us both down on the ground. 

Shifting so I'm laying down, I rest my head on his thigh, and his two left arms fall over me, one stroking my shoulder, the other on my waist. It's slow enough, warm enough, that I'm lulled by it, and I yawn again.

"Wake me up in like, ten minutes," I mumble, my eyes already starting to fall shut.

"Of course," Kri says above me, and his voice is the last thing I hear before the world fades to black.

Chapter 12 >>

[syn4k]

you know why I’m here.

(From the @hermits-in-space Space AU, more formally known as Scar's Failsafe Guide to the Galaxy (SFGG)! Interested in this oneshot? Go follow the account!)

---

Really, thought Chrys, shimmying through an annoyingly constrictive air vent, it's not like they hadn't expected anyone to show up. They shouldn't have. And yet, here he was: very weak motion sensors on this side of the ship, an unopened vent with an easily enough hijackable airlock bay, crawling through and trying to figure out where in hell Hex was.

They could be being contained against their will. Or forced to do slave labor. Or knocked unconscious. Or worse.

We don't think about worse, Chrys firmly told himself. We get in. We get the idiot. We leave. Simple enough.

Who's "we?" another, quieter voice in his brain whispered, and Chrys sighed.

He'd been tracking down his annoyingly elusive younger brother for... a couple cycles now. Six, maybe seven? It's not his fault that Hex had managed to get off of the planet somehow and promptly disappeared into the greater universe, and yet everyone seemed to think it was.

The job here was to get this idiot back home, sign the pact or whatever, and then things would be okay-ish. Normal-ish. Then again, being out in space running with the stars know who change a person, and not always for the better.

Off-track. He was getting off-track. Were those voices he could hear? He crawled closer to the opening in the vent, making sure that nobody could see from any angle. Stars, it was cramped in here.

"-found a ship docked to the side of ours," sighed one voice. Shit. Five doubles says that's mine.

"Markings, affiliation?" asked another voice, slightly nasally and undoubtedly tired. Chrys didn't know what time this ship ran on, but it was probably early. Good.

"None that I can see so far from the cameras," said the first. "It's yellow, though, which is an odd choice for a singleperson ship."

"Any sign of the person themself?" asked a third voice. Chrys caught sight of a long reptilian tail flapping. He couldn't see the other two yet.

"None," said the first voice.

"Might run another scan," sighed the second. "It's ass-o-clock in the morning, False. Rock paper scissors to see who has to do it?"

"I don't need sleep," said the third voice icily. "I need answers."

Somewhere, Chrys could hear a door opening but not shutting. The second and third voice (False?) walked off together, arguing about... something. The first person stayed where they were, and walked slowly into the view of the slats between the vents. Pink helmet, solid build, is that a... tail???

"Hex, what are you doing up here this late?" asked the guy in the pink suit. Chrys pressed his face to the vent, trying to get a good view of the person he had been looking for for so long.

"Couldn't sleep," said Hex's voice- yep, that was Hex- from just out of seeing range. "What's going on?"

"Unrecognized single-person flyer docked," said the first voice. "Take a look."

Hex finally came into view, but what Chrys saw was absolutely not what he expected.

See, in a species of shapeshifters, their family had made a pact with a neighboring one of a different kind so that when their kids came of age to change into their forms, they would choose the form of the other species.

Speculti (or, Hex and Chrys' species) could only shapeshift once, into the likeness of the first person of another species they touched.

Before he left, Hex had not undergone this procedure. Now, though, he looked markedly different..?

"Huh," said Hex, bending down. "Looks kinda like... oh, shit."

"Like what?" asked the first voice.

"Like me," said Chrys, dropping down onto the floor (that was a bigger drop than expected) (that hurt) (goddamn OW). "Hex, what the fuck did you get yourself into?"

"This was not on my bingo card for the year," muttered Hex. They sighed. "X, this is my brother Chrysalis, better known as Chrys. Chrys, this is Xisuma, or shortened X, the captain of this ship, a.k.a the H.S.S."

"You assholes better unhand my brother right now or there'll be hell to pay," Chrys growled, taking out a pair of nunchucks and popping them threateningly.

"No, listen," said Hex, walking in between the two. "Listen. It's not like that. I'm here of my own free will, sorta."

"Sort of?"

"...do you have a reason for breaking onto my ship?" asked X.

"Good question, actually," said Hex, looking over his shoulder to look at X and back at Chrys. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Oh, you know why I'm here already," said Chrys, starting to spin his nunchucks absently around. "We're going home."

[axos-abyss]

Hang Out (700ish words)

It’s been five minutes since I knocked to get my friends to let me in. I arrived ten minutes late, which was around fifteen minutes early with these guys. I considered opening a can of soda to pass the time. Right before I opened the container to dig out a can, I heard the door creek open.

With his usual smile, Roy opened the door and let me in. I pushed past him before he got to greet me because I never put down the sodas. I rushed to the kitchen and slammed them on the nearest counter. I heard a quick chuckle behind me as he said “Seems like somebody is in a hurry to watch their fantasy team score no points.”

I really did not give a rats' ass about the fantasy league they ran. It was only in our friend group, no money was wagered, and the scoring was a bastardized version of official scoring systems. Plus, I was more of a soccer guy myself anyway. Whenever it came around to drafting up a team, I just picked what I had to and kept moving on. The league didn’t matter to anyone really, it was just an excuse to hang out whenever we could.

Looking out from the kitchen, I saw that Shawn and Clint had already made themselves comfortable on the couch. They made sure to sit as far away from each other as possible, to minimize awkward contact, and to maximize the amount of time each of them had if the other decided they deserved to be hit. I decided to grab myself a bowl of assorted Chinese food and join them in my usual spot in the corner of the couch.

“Dude, Alex, what the fuck? Not even a hey or a howdy doo?” Roy jested as he walked over to the whiteboard we had set up, trying to be sneaky as he removed a couple of points from Shawn’s team. 

The other two were occupied with the touchdown that just happened, so I had a few seconds to think of a response. Instead of anything witty, I simply admitted, “I was never told to, and when did you ever care about a proper greeting?” 

“Alex, saying hi is not a proper greeting, it’s basic human procedure you machine.” Shawn said, butting in. He had the usual straight face to try and fool me that he was being serious, forgetting to watch his tone. It only lasted a few seconds, because Shawn could not hold that face for more than a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

Right then, everything felt more real than it usually does. The plunge into self awareness always left me a little shocked, but I have gotten used to it over time. I quickly look to my right, and follow the strings that are attached to me. My head always follows them from where they end in my neck, to the hands they come from. I move my head slightly up, and stare myself in the face. 

He is sitting over by the table we usually have our post-game chats at, slightly hunched over. I can see the whiteboard that is supposed to be next to Roy hung up on the wall, with a season's worth of information written on it. I stare at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to check over his shoulders, to notice his strings that led to the doorway. My greatest fears come true, as he never does. My eyes tear up a little bit. 

“Alex buddy, you get burned so bad you lose all your brain cells or something?” asks Clint, as I am snapped back to reality. The exit of those moments is always physically easier, but never mentally.

I simply turn to him and my mouth apologizes, saying that I thought I spotted a fly. I crack a quick joke and say to get back to the game, because I just want to move on and not stay on the subject. I notice out loud that my quarterback, whatever his name is, just made an amazing play. Everyone else nods and makes a couple more remarks as they turn their heads to enjoy the game.

[altik-0]

On the Ethics of the IPG

So I just watched a video that hit me very hard, and I encourage anyone who plays Magic: the Gathering (especially at a competitive level!) to watch it. This post is largely a response to it. Not as a critique per-sé (I largely agree with what Jorbs has said here), but adding some additional perspective and expand upon it based on my experiences that I think are relevant.

This is going to be a post that's pretty deep in the weeds about Magic: the Gathering community, culture, and policy. It's also mostly a free-form journal entry to process some thoughts and feelings I have on my end. I hope that I'll be able to convey ideas with some amount of value for external readers to get, but if you see the length and feel your brain shutting off at the Magic jargon, please feel free to pass on, none of this is really that important lol.

Layer 0a: Video Summary

For those who see a 2hr timestamp and nope out, here's a quick breakdown of Jorbs's video:

He shares a story of two players (renamed to Brad and Jessica) who mistakenly run afoul of a particularly arcane and strict rule from Magic's Infraction Procedure Guide ("IPG" moving forward) -- the document which describes various rule violations and what penalties are associated with them at high level competitive play. In this circumstance, the players are given a match loss, which likely knocks both of them out of contention for meaningful placing for prizes in the tournament overall. Brad reacts with a severe emotional breakdown, including what I would describe as a violent outburst, and is thus expelled from the venue for the safety of the remaining players. Brad then posted his experience in a long-form blog post decrying the judges for their actions, and standing firm that he feels he felt no regret for his actions.

Jorbs does a deep dive into the relevant policy, as well as its motivations. He also dives into the specifics of the scenario, removed from the emotional charge of the blog post, and discusses what he feels are reasonable reactions to the situation. He then begins going through the blog post and describing in detail why he found the post emotionally manipulative. Editorializing a little: I generally agree with his read on both the document, and on the unsettling reality that there were so many tweets replying in defense of Brad.

Layer 0b: My Relevant Experience

I used to be very involved in the Magic: the Gathering community. Involved to the point that I became a certified judge (kind of the equivalent of referees for those out-of-the-know), traveled the country on staff for multi-thousand person tournaments, and a central coordinator for my home state. At my peak, I was staffing one event or another on average once per weekend, and often assisting local stores in some capacity multiple times per week outside of that. All of this being done as a kind of side-job -- most of the labor was unpaid, and what was paid didn't pay especially well. Nevertheless, at the time I found this to be a deeply enriching part of my life and a valuable contribution to my local community.

Layer 1: My Reaction to Brad

In my time judging, situations like the one Jorbs discussed were not uncommon. I wouldn't go quite so far as to say I saw one at every event I was on staff at, but it was definitely something I had to keep my eyes peeled for at the top tables for every one. They sucked to issue every time, and it tended to have some tense emotions from players when I had to issue them.

Stepping a bit beyond that, having to issue unfavorable rulings that hurt someone's standings in a tournament were constant. Multiple such calls every round, even at relatively small events. Magic is a complex game, and it's almost impossible to play perfectly. People screw up, and when they do it can sometimes cost them more than they realized was possible. This is an understandably emotionally fraught situation. I'm grateful to say that most Magic players would handle negative rulings like this in stride. Perhaps grumble and try to argue, but cases of escalation like what is described in Brad's post were thankfully rare.

That said, they were not unheard of. In fact, the specific act of going online to write a lengthy diatribe about how "I was wronged by a magic judge today!!!" was painfully common. Frequently over situations much pettier than what Brad experienced here. Jorbs opined multiple times about how the judges were doing their job professionally, and that considering their humanity was also essential. Speaking as someone who has been in that position: yes, I often felt dehumanized by the way people treated me, and it was a significant contributor to my burnout and eventual departure from both judging and Magic as a hobby altogether.

But I don't bring this up to complain about my mistreatment in the role -- in fact, I have much more nuanced thoughts about that I'll get to later. Rather, I would like to highlight something that Jorbs did not discuss outright, but I feel comfortable speaking to: people who feel the need to write up the kind of post that Brad made here, and who have the level of emotional outburst that he had from losing a match at a Magic tournament, are likely doing this more than once. While these kinds of outbursts were rare, the times they did happen were almost exclusively isolated to a small handful of people. The "Brads" in my community were well known to me, and when I saw these people on a player list, I ended up needing to account for them in my preparation for the day so I could cater to the necessary deescalation that would come up should -- god forbid -- a ruling ever go out of their favor.

Jorbs analyzed the situation as Brad being a "strategy gamer" -- someone who has become conditioned to seeking every advantage to win a game. That while not all such "strategy gamers" will do this, some may bend rules or forgo social norms for any edge that may help them win. I can't agree more with this assessment. But I will take it a step further than he did: I feel that the social norms of "strategy gamers", and especially the specific culture that built up in competitive Magic scenes, actively encourages people to become willing to do that rule bending.

Outbursts like what Brad described were rare, but I saw hundreds of small instances of these kinds of behaviors in less extreme fashions during my tenure. People who would complain about prize support not being top-heavy enough (read: they wanted more for winning) and would heckle me to try and negotiate changing it after the fact. People who would grill me for what specific arcane words they could use to perform the exact infraction Jorbs discussed in the video but not technically break the rule so they could get away with it. People who would take advantage of inexperienced players to cheat them out of expensive cards through unfair trades. These kinds of behaviors were uncomfortably common, and shockingly tolerated by the community -- sometimes even celebrated!

And to my dismay, I saw myself falling into these behaviors as well at times. I'd like to believe I was not especially bad about it, and generally tried very hard to be as considerate of everyone around me as I could be. However, I felt the spark of joy from getting very invested in personal improvement in a strategy game, and it's simply a reality that learning to angle shoot and outmaneuver your opponents also necessarily trains the kinds of skills that can be darkly warped into manipulation, deception, and greed. This was another major part of why I left the game, and it is the biggest reason I have struggled to even play the game since.

Layer 2: My Reaction to the Judge Program

I am far from the only person who was both a heavily invested player and also judge for Magic: the Gathering. In fact, I'd say in my experience most judges were seriously invested "strategy gamers", and were very much subject to the same cultural sway that competitive players experience.

As one example that I found particularly sad: the Judge Program used to have a project called "The Exemplar Program." The idea was to celebrate judges performing above-and-beyond acts, and recognize their efforts with a material reward (special promotional cards often worth significant amounts of money). Every season judges would be allocated a number of allotments they could use to nominate people they saw doing cool things.

I found this project a tremendous tool for bolstering my local community. These promotional cards were often inaccessible for lower-level judges through other means, so finding ways that I could send some positive kudos out to people in the community and attach a bit of material weight to it was awesome! I saw a lot of genuine joy in my local area come from this, and I know I wasn't alone in that.

The problem was, these allotments were distributed relative to the judge's level in the program, meaning higher-up judges had more control over the distribution. And because the higher-up judges were often more likely to work with one another than they were to work with the lower level judges making up the vast majority of the program, those rewards were disproportionately given to the folks at the top. In fact, it became something of an open secret that people would nominate one another to ensure that they would each get their pack of foils each quarter. Eventually this became so pervasive, the managers of the project just shut it down entirely.

I bring all of this up because I think it's important to appreciate that judges, like players, are also human. It's fairly common, I find, for judges to be separated away from players as a fundamentally different group of people. Either dehumanized by the upset players who rant and bemoan their "cold", "emotionless" attitudes during a ruling that didn't go their way, or dehumanized by their defenders who see them as "professional event staff". Some may recognize judges as just other players when they aren't on staff, but the moment that the uniform went on, judges got cast into a different social class in the community, and that has serious ramifications that I don't think get confronted very often.

Layer 2: ACAB

I am a white person, comfortably middle class for pretty much my entire life, and presenting as a cisgender man for a good chunk of it. As such, I really wasn't confronted with police violence in any meaningful way for most of my life. I'm grateful for that privilege.

But I was tragically unaware of just how much I benefited from that privilege until much more recently. With the election of Trump in 2016, the rise of fascist mobs from the alt-right such as the march in Charlottesville, and escalating coverage of violence towards black people such as the shooting of Trayvon Martin, I was forced to confront political realities that were a lot darker than I had felt from my relatively sheltered life. While I had always considered my politics to be "progressive", I realized I was really not as well informed as I thought I was.

So I started becoming more politically literate. I got involved in activist groups and started doing outreach to vulnerable populations in my community. I got involved in much more diverse and progressive online communities. I started speaking with queer and neurodivergent people more consistently, and came to realize I fit better into both those categories than I had ever felt comfortable acknowledging before.

And more than anything, I started learning just how fucked up cops are.

I'm not going to do a breakdown of prison abolition arguments here -- it's a topic with a lot of depth, and honestly Angela Davis has already written a better introduction to it than I could hope to. But for our purposes here, there are a few social realities about police we need to acknowledge before moving on:

Police are separated into a unique class role, defined by their monopolized control of violence in our communities. Regardless of whether you feel that the police are doing a job that protects our community or not, it is inarguable that their role is one that wields violence to exert power over others.

The role of police is to protect property, not people. And when I say "property", I really mean "the property of the wealthy aristocrats" -- any Magic player who has had a binder stolen out of their car knows just how hard it is to get police to care about their personal property, but how easy it is for a big box store like Target to bring in cops to protect their Magic stock from getting shoplifted.

Police are human, and bring their human biases into their actions. While police are ostensibly supposed to be enforcing an objective set of rules in a consistent way, we know that in practice they do not. And tragically often, these biased actions can have deadly consequences.

I hold the belief that policing, as an institution, is fundamentally a corrupt institution that serves the purpose of oppression. I'm fairly indifferent to whether individual police officers you may know are "one of the good ones" -- at the end of the day, we see the systemic effects of policing all around us, and they are not just imperfect, they are actively harmful. As such, I advocate for the dissolution of prisons and policing as systems entirely, replaced with more humane solutions, such as Restorative Justice programs.

Layer 3: Judges are Kinda Magic Cops

So bringing this back: as I refocused political education, I began seeing more of the small reflections of broad socioeconomic issues in the smaller parts of society that specifically touched me. Since I have been processing my departure from the judge program at the same time, it's unsurprising that I've drawn some specific parallels. And one that sticks out particularly is how uncomfortably similar the judge program is to the institution of police.

Upfront I will acknowledge: this is not a perfect mapping. Most importantly, Magic judges do not have power of violence over players. The most drastic thing judges have direct authority to do is disqualifying someone from a tournament. Ostensibly they could kick someone out of a venue, but in practice they wouldn't enforce that, the venue security team would. This is not a minor point: the violence inflicted by the police is by far the most critical aspect of their oppressive power.

But in practice, judges do have tremendous sway over how events are run, and what the outcomes for players in that event get to experience. Beyond that, I find most judges -- especially those of higher level -- are given social clout that gives them sway beyond the realms of a single event, and into their local community at large. I certainly was put in this position during my time in the program, and I absolutely leveraged that power many times. I'd like to believe that I typically used this for good, such as convincing store owners to grant me some space in their store on a weekly basis so I could teach players interested in learning the rules better. But I also feel confident I perpetuated harm in my time in the role, such as imposing beliefs that I had about running tournaments without earnest engagement with the community around me before doing that advocacy.

And I can certainly testify to harm done by other judges in the program due to biases they held. As a particularly egregious example: I once got into a conversation with a judge who openly stated he would not invoke penalties for hate speech directed towards players with marginalized identities because "it's more important to protect the political free speech of white supremacists than to protect the comfort of players in a Magic tournament". For additional context: this judge spoke those words in the company of an openly queer person, and a person of color.

Furthermore, much like how the police will form "the blue wall of silence" to protect one another from scrutiny into corruption or criminal action, I've witnessed similar behavior from judges as well. While being trained as a judge, I was routinely told by my seniors that I should always rigidly apply the rules precisely as written, and "if the players complain, remind them that you don't write the rules you just enforce them." As I got more involved in higher level judging, I also became privy to backdoor conversations where some pretty intense policy decisions were being discussed and influenced with little to no oversight from the Magic community at large.

I had friends who were blacklisted from events for making reasonable requests for disability accommodations. I heard judges complaining about other judges behind their back, and quietly excluding them from future involvement for various discriminatory reasons. I got roped into boys-club conversations that were openly misogynistic and hostile towards efforts from others in the program to try and build a more inclusive space for women and queer people. I watched top-level judges make decisions that were actively harmful to smaller or international communities, and got looped into some of the startlingly racist reasons behind those decisions.

For my part: I tried to do what I could to make my community as welcoming as possible, and build up a better Magic ecosystem where I could. I don't think I did an especially good job at it. I also didn't push back as hard as I ought to when I saw the most heinous examples of ableism, misogyny, and racism on display. I am ashamed of this inaction on my part, and it is something I constantly grapple with doing better moving forward.

That said: there was really very little I could have actually swayed even if I had spoken up. These were deep-rooted, systemic problems that had a heavy base in the underlying Magic community values that the judge program sprouted from. And they were decisions being made far above my paygrade. The most I could hope to do was sway the influence of someone above me who might be able to sway the influence of someone above them.

Layer 4: Why is IDW Controversial?

The scenario from Jorbs's video centered around conflict from a judge's ruling about "Improperly Determining a Winner" -- a rule that Jorbs provocatively calls "the most controversial rule in Magic". I think the term "controversial" is interesting here, because personally I think it disguises some interesting dynamics at play with this rule in particular.

See, I would not have ever labeled IDW as the most controversial rule in Magic; not even the most controversial in the IPG. I would easily award that to "Unsporting Conduct: Minor" -- a rule that is perhaps the most critical for ensuring community spaces are welcoming to people with differing backgrounds, but is by necessity left frustratingly vague and open to interpretation by individual judges. That yikes conversation about defending white supremacists I mentioned earlier? That conversation started because the judge was complaining about how someone got on his case for not issuing an Unsporting Conduct: Minor infraction to a player who had a playmat with overt pornography printed on it that a woman playing at the event expressed discomfort toward.

Nevertheless, I wasn't entirely surprised to hear that IDW was the rule in question either. I have had countless arguments with players about this rule (and its sister: "Bribery and Wagering"), and their faulty understandings of it despite the seemingly simple nature of the rule. It was perhaps the single rule that caused the most headaches for me at tournaments, because almost without failure I would get players trying to angle shoot to find loopholes to perform IDW without technically violating IDW rules. It's also a pretty common rule to get brought up in these kinds of emotionally manipulative tournament report blog posts like the one Jorbs reacted to here.

As a judge, I got used to the standard explanations for why this rule exists, which I think Jorbs covers well in his video. Magic is uncomfortably close to crossing gambling regulations, and losing access to the game in your local area because regulators decided to ban it on those grounds is a pretty severe cost. I've even witnessed a local game store get closed down on grounds of violating gambling laws.

Nonetheless, I can't say I ever felt fully convinced by this explanation either. I think the scenario between Jessica and Brad is tragic, and a good highlight of how easy it is to accidentally step into this rule as a trap. It's far from unheard of -- in fact, one of the foundational examples they teach judges early on is even more severe:

Imagine you are judging a small tournament at your local game store. A pair of young kids, new to the game, are paired against one another in the first round. They are having a good time, but aren't very conscious of the timer, and end up running out before finishing their first game. You come by and explain to them what that means, and that they will draw after the next 5 turns. One of the kids says "hey, how about we just flip a coin to decide who wins then?"

This is a cut-and-dry example of violating this policy, and at a high-end event like the one described in Brad's tournament report this would come with a Match Loss. But you know what's kind of fucked up? For young kids playing at a low stakes casual event at their local game store? That penalty would be a full on disqualification (at least at the time I was judging -- it's possible this has changed since then). Sorry, you can't continue playing Magic in the tournament tonight.

Now any judge with a heart would follow that scenario up with "okay let's find ways for them to continue playing Magic though" to try and soften the blow and make sure we don't completely ruin their night. But I've had conversations with judges who have issued this ruling with cold precision and left kids crying at the table and just moved on from there -- precise and professional, just as Jorbs celebrated in his video. And you know, I don't find that inspiring.

So when I hear "IDW is the most controversial rule in Magic", what I really hear is "IDW is a rule that is despised by players, but adamantly defended by judges". Judges have good reasons to defend the policy, no doubt. But players have plenty of very good reasons to be upset by it as well. Neither group has power to sway the policy as written, but judges do have power of enforcement, which is far beyond what players have in this situation.

Layer 5: My Reaction to Jorbs

So with all of this split ink, I finally return to my feelings from Jorbs's video. Because while I emphatically agree with his analysis that Brad's reaction was emotionally immature and irresponsible, and the tweets defending him are wildly off base, there is nonetheless a bad taste left in my mouth from his analysis. He makes multiple assumptions in his video that I don't think should be taken uncritically.

For one: a strategy game tournament with high-stakes and high-end expectations from players not only should have, but needs strict and rigid rules. I think he presents compelling arguments for why IDW is specifically necessary, but I don't think he provides good reason why the rule needs to be exactly what it is.

For another: players ought to be expected to follow the rules rigidly, and expect punishment when those rules are violated. He seems to imply to me that not just Brad's emotional response (which I find unambiguously unacceptable) but also Brad's emotions themselves ought to be scrutinized. After all, rules are rules, right?

And lastly: the explicit hierarchy of power between players and judges, and within the judge staff itself, ought to be met with respect and deferment. I found it telling how much emphasis Jorbs put into scrutinizing Brad's emotional manipulation (which again: was all very much there, and warrants scrutiny), but glossed past the judge referring to the Dreamhack venue as "his hall". While Brad is far from a reliable narrator, I can say from my experience with judges, that doesn't sound like an outlandish thing to hear from a head judge. And perhaps it's just me, but that statement reeks of someone allowing the power of their position to go to their head.

Ultimately, I agree with Jorbs that this situation sounds like a shit show, and Brad wildly over reacted in a frightening and perhaps even dangerous way. By his own account, the judge staff did an admirable job deescalating the situation and enforcing rules as written. But I think it's also fair for Brad to feel that he was not being treated as a human by the judges in this cold and clinical treatment of the situation. I also think it's fair to say that IDW as a policy kind of sucks, and it's fair for players to feel frustrated by it -- especially since they have no direct influence over how those policies are written.

Anyway, I think I've said my peace for now. Seriously, do go watch Jorbs's video if you have any investment in the competitive Magic community. I don't fully agree with his analysis, but his assessment of the situation is still spot on and something I don't think gets spoken by non-judge members of the community very often.

[16woodsequ]

For your latest ask-game 2, 13 and 18 please! (Really interested in what’ll you’ll answer 👀)

Thanks for the ask! I'm looking for a boost today so I think this will be fun.

From this ask post

2. Favorite piece overall?

This is a really hard question! There's so many different fics that I love for different reasons. But when I think about it, one of my fics I really like is Infallible (or not). That's because I got to write about a headcanon of mine that I'd really baked into a lot of my Steves—him having trauma from being captured by Hydra and being triggered by medical procedures. And I felt I really got to lean into the Steve whump for that fic, which was really fun.

13. Are there any things that might have happened in any of your stories, but you changed them at the last minute? (So-and-so dies, they don't actually kiss, main character has long extended ballet-based dream sequence, etc.)

By the time I get to writing my fics I usually have most of it pretty solid. But even still, my ideas evolve and change so that the original idea isn't always what makes it onto paper.

An example I thought of is for my Forest of Apple Trees I had this scene in my head set while Steve and Bucky are in their hotel room. Steve is asleep, nesting or scenting Bucky's jacket to help him recover from the Howard ordeal when Dugan unexpectedly comes into the room without knocking, looking for them.

He sees Steve asleep and nesting and Bucky very quickly users him out into the hall. And that scene gets Dugan's brain thinking, especially since they've all noticed how tense and protective Bucky is around Steve. So he asks,

"Is he a beta?" Because it's still pretty unimaginable for an omega to get into the army, but being a beta would explain Steve's scent more.

And Bucky just folds his arms and goes, "Does it matter?" with a glare.

And Dugan shakes his head and lets it drop. And that incident is part of the reason Bucky chose to ask Dugan to look after Steve in case he died.

I just couldn't find a good place to fit that scene in the fic, so it never made it.

18. If you could go back and revise one of your older stories, which would it be?

Sometimes I want to go revise my fic Never Again. I still really like that fic, but I think if I revised it I could go into more detail of what Steve is feeling. I left a lot of details unsaid because I was new to writing mcu fanfic and was sort of assuming that all the readers had the same detailed picture of Steve's internal dialogue that I did. Which obviously isn't true lol. So I think I could flesh out that fic a bit. But people seem to like it as it is, so it's okay.

[blue-manuscript]

The Lucien Project: Day 17

Hi everybody! To keep myself accountable this NaNoWriMo season, I am going to be posting my word count on here every day, with an excerpt from the draft novel! I am aware that I did not update yesterday - my partner and I ended up very sick with food poisoning and I did not have the brain nor the effort to write. We got caught up today, though!

11/17/2022: 3,050 words written

This gave Dr. Stroud ample time to consider the details of her interviews thus far, before she would finally meet with the Project Head, her puppy-dog, Dr. Edward Poole. She thought back, first, on her meeting with Dr. Neruda. Now, she knew that the two of them had a rocky, uncomfortable work relationship, but Dr. Stroud was still disappointed by the way their conversation had gone. It was apparent, for one, that Dr. Neruda was not happy to be back in the position she was originally hired for, as a developmental psychologist, who did nothing more than consultations with parents if they suspected their child of having special needs. It was also clear that Dr. Neruda was not satisfied with the Lucien Project’s goals and procedures. She seemed to think that Dr. Stroud was incapable of providing the proper instructions to raise a child. Sure, Dr. Neruda had been helping her brother raise his children for the past few years, but that didn’t make her more of a parent than Dr. Stroud was. Besides, Dr. Stroud herself felt that she grew up lonely, and felt that she turned out fine - she was the largest shareholder in the hospital stock, was in charge of hundreds of employees, had multiple works published in scholarly journals, her research regarded as significant worldwide. Loneliness was good for you, she thought. It worked out for her.

Then, Dr. Stroud considered her brief discussion with the Head of Neurology for the Lucien Project. The frown Dr. Stroud had on her face when contemplating Dr. Neruda turned into a menacing smile. Dr. Frasier was a fiery woman, who obviously prioritized her work above all else. The woman was right, too, when she told Dr. Stroud that she had already written all that she knew in her reports. Dr. Stroud had reviewed each daily report closely, especially Dr. Frasier’s extremely detailed ones. She did already know that his neural monitoring showed no signs of abnormality, except for when they tried the word-search function. Dr. Stroud had been disappointed to remove the word games from the simulation Routine, but had ultimately agreed with her subordinates that the games were 1) causing Lucien pain 2) inappropriate for a child who couldn’t read, especially given his young age. Based on her chat with Dr. Frasier just now, however, she didn’t think the word-search would be reintroduced any time soon. 

Dr. Stroud looked at the expensive, silver watch on her wrist, checking the time. It was about time for Dr. Poole to arrive. She watched the minute and second hands circle around the clock over and over, until Dr. Poole was over five minutes late. She began tapping her foot impatiently, watching the door carefully. She didn’t ever like to be kept waiting, and her annoyance at being delayed was tenfold after a long day of interviews and meetings. At last, she heard him knock thrice on the door. “Enter,” she yelled coldly, and the tall man slowly entered the room and took a seat. 

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[deutschegurl]

The Draw

A little kacy fic that I couldn't get out of my head. Their scene in 1X01 of NCIS:Hawaii has been on replay in my brain. This little theory is based almost exclusively on Kate's smile in 1X02 when referring to "the other night" and Lucy's comment about Kate "taking ALL the pleasure" in 1X06. Note this is definitely mature at the end.

Kate

Kate slammed the apartment door behind her. ‘Goddamn it Lucy!’ She thought enraged.

She pulled off her heels, tossing them at her shoe rack. Stomping through the kitchen, she headed straight to her bedroom. She stripped quickly eager to shed the day’s constricting grasp and the grip of frustration and rage that had been chocking her since Capt. Millius had dressed her down this morning. What killed her is that this was Lucy’s fault...again.

The woman infuriated her to no end - their push and pull a source of constant turmoil. They were all heat, fire and frustration. Kate's efforts to stay emotionally detached were constantly thwarted by this woman who pushed her every boundary. Kate would throw up a wall just to have Lucy walk right through it, seeing her heart and her truth too easily for Kate’s comfort. Not to mentioned the incredibly hot, dirty, intimate sex. She’d never had a partner take her the way Lucy did. But that gave Lucy a power over her that Kate hated. Of all people, Lucy knew how to hurt her, and she intentionally made Kate look bad. It cost her personally and goddamn it hurt for it to be Lucy.

‘She never considers the consequences of her actions!’ Kate thought furiously pulling on a pair of casual khakis and a sweater.

This is exactly why they didn’t work. Kate believed in rules, procedures, and order. Lucy was all passion and justice and damn the consequences. Kate understood all too well the consequences of ignoring the rules and she’d be damned if it happened on her watch.

‘Breathe, Kate.’ She thought frustrated wandering back into her living room. ‘Lucy probably hasn’t given this another thought and here you are losing it again.’

She paced her floor replaying the conversation with Milius and later with Tennant in her head, spiraling around the incident and her frustration with it until she finally sighed and headed for her fridge. She needed wine.

Lucy

Lucy paced nervously outside Kate’s door. “It’s just an apology. You’re being ridiculous. Just say your sorry and ask for the list. It’s not like you aren’t sorry. Ugh!”

Realistically Lucy knew it wasn’t the apology that would be the hardest. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Lucy lived her life without regrets. Free, open, uninhibited. In theory, the exact opposite of the woman on the other side of the door. The uptight ‘mean girl’ who wore bitchy like a suit of armor.

The problem was Lucy had seen the softness underneath. A woman who could follow mind blowing sex with cuddles and laughter until the early hours of the morning only to kick her out the next morning, the ice-cold façade back in place. Walls that high should have sent Lucy running for the hills. Instead, Kate was her drug. No matter how many times Kate pushed her away, she had kept coming back. Lucy knew Kate wanted her, maybe even liked her, but a girl had to have some pride. And after she’d shoved her away last time, Lucy swore she wouldn’t come crawling back…ever.

She also knew she’d hurt Kate. Her career was her number one. Damn if Lucy didn’t know it well, but Lucy hadn’t intended to put Kate in a bind. She just wanted to push the case forward, catch the killer, see justice done. Kate getting dressed down wasn’t in her plan. But really her plan didn’t go past get the info and take the next step. She could practically hear Kate’s voice lecturing her about consequences.

“Get it together Lucy. Apologize, get the list, and leave. That’s it. Damn you Jesse”. Lucy thought ceasing her pacing. She took a deep breath raising her hand to knock. ‘Let’s get this over with’ she thought.

Kate paused when she heard the knock at the door. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she thought ‘this day...’

Shaking her head, she padded to the front door throwing it open. Her shock at seeing Lucy quickly gave way to rage.

“Oh, look who’s here.” She quipped raising an eyebrow in distaste. “Did you come by to clean up your mess and save your ass? Or maybe take a swing at me?” She snarled, her anger rising to a fury as she stepped back to slam the door in Lucy’s face.

“Woah, woah, hey, no.” Lucy insisted quickly, stepping into Kate’s space to stop the door from slamming shut. She felt that familiar guilt rise up seeing Kate’s anger. She really had hurt her.

“I came to apologize.” She insisted imploring Kate with her eyes to hear her out.

“I was out of line, and I put you in a jam. It wasn’t right or fair.” she rushed out. “And I’m sorry.” She breathed before smiling slightly looking up at Kate from under her lashes.

Kate started in surprise. Her rage melting into a heat much lower with Lucy’s apology and soft gaze. She stepped forward into the smaller woman’s space as if drawn in by an invisible force.

“Lucy…” she whispered her eyes pained, searching the shorter woman’s face for hesitancy before capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. Kate’s hands gripped the back of Lucy’s head.

Her slight surprise at Kate’s assault quickly shifted into heat and action as Lucy pushed up on her toes to give back as good as she got. Lucy traced her tongue along Kate’s lower lip seeking entrance. She felt Kate moan slightly opening her mouth to her tongue and pressing into her hard.

Their tongues dualled for control of the kiss sliding heatedly against each other as Kate pressed her back into the wall. Lucy felt her back hit the wall and pulled Kate tight into her body as she broke the kiss to bite at the taller woman’s neck. She nipped and sucked hard before gently lathing her tongue to soothe the heated skin. Kate felt her knees give at Lucy’s attention to her neck. She reached out catching herself against the wall to stop her slide.

The ding of the elevator in the distance pulled at the back of Kate’s mind as Lucy’s palms slide north from her waist tracing along her ribs. Kate grabbed at Lucy’s lapels pulling her into a fierce kiss and tugged her backwards towards her apartment door.

Lucy gasped feeling a pull of pleasure as this woman took control and drug her through the apartment entryway searching for the closest surface she could find. Finally feeling Kate at her level, Lucy grabbed at her face holding her into another deep kiss until she felt a tug on her coat pulling her arms down and breaking through her heated daze.

“Hold on, no, no, no. We can’t do this again.” Lucy stuttered out at once pushing distance between them. She walked towards the balcony trying to escape the magnetic pull of Kate’s orbit. She’d sworn she wouldn’t let this happen again.

Kate gasped at the sudden loss of Lucy’s mouth and felt the expanse of emptiness spread between them. It quickly filled with embarrassment and rejection hearing Lucy’s words.

“Ah, yea, a horrible mistake” she quickly quipped turning her back to Lucy so she couldn’t see her embarrassed blush.

“I wouldn’t say horrible.” Lucy parried back defensively.

‘No’ Kate thought. ‘Never horrible.’

“I’m agreeing with you.” She shot back walls firmly in place as she grappled for control over her emotions and her body. God she was wet. Lucy’s mouth always had that effect on her. She took a deep breath pushing down the feelings of her rebellious body. Pouring herself a glass of wine to seek solace in, she grasped onto the pain of Lucy’s rejection to steal herself.

She felt Lucy’s stare. “No that’s okay, I’m not thirsty.” Her voice annoyed.

“Why are you here?” Kate demanded.

Kate half listened as Lucy explained the pilot’s murder. Her ears perked when she heard mention of the spy ring; the pieces falling into place quickly.

“You want to know who else is working on the project.” Kate shook her head as she realized Lucy intent.

“I can get it through channels, but you can get it faster.” Lucy pressed.

“What’s in it for me?” Kate responded hoping Lucy would get the message and just leave.

Of course, she didn’t. Instead, she doubled down, lecturing Kate on doing her job, getting justice. Kate clutched her wine that familiar frustration and pain rising as Lucy accused her of being heartless.

As if sensing her thoughts and wavering emotions, Lucy rounded the countertop heading to the fridge for a drink.

“Yea, I think you should go.” Kate stopped her in her tracks. “And the list of names?” Lucy questioned immediately. Kate ignored her.

“Kate...please.” Lucy implored her eyes searching Kate’s. “You can fool everyone else, but I know you care.”

Kate released a deep sigh closing her eyes. Fighting her emotions - pain tinged with affection for Lucy’s ability to see through her walls. She set her glass down on the counter as Lucy drew closer searching again for her eyes.

“Kate” she whispered sliding her hand up to cup her cheek.

Kate met her eyes pain clear on her features. She nodded almost imperceptibly looking down.

“Thank you” Lucy whispered her hand slipping down to trace her thumb over Kate's lower lip. Kate’s eyes fluttered closed feeling the air grow heavy between them.

“God” Kate felt the word slip from her lips before grabbing Lucy’s lapels and pulling her mouth against hers hard.

Lucy groaned gripping Kate’s hair and pulling her down until she was pressed between Kate’s body and the counter. She felt Kate’s hands slide down her waist and over her ass squeezing heatedly. Then suddenly she was being lifted. Kate’s hands on her ass pulled her up and onto the countertop until she was perched there with Kate between her thighs.

“Fuck” Lucy bit at Kate’s lower lip feeling herself overheat at that little display of strength. She wrapped her legs around Kate’s waist as Kate leaned in, her hands finding purchase on the countertop behind her.

Lucy pushed her tongue into Kate’s mouth. Her hands slipped under the edges of Kate’s sweater running her thumbs up along her abs. She felt Kate gasp into her mouth and press closer. She smirked into their kiss drawing back to watch Kate as her thumbs ghosted over her bra covered nipples.

Lucy bit her lip as a whimper escaped Kate’s mouth. She pinched at her nipples over her bra as she watched the woman before her melt.

“Lucy, please.” Kate murmured her hands coming off the countertop to pull Lucy even closer.

“Please what babe?” Lucy challenged her left hand pulling Kate’s bra to the side. She slid her fingertips over her hard nipple before rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Mmm” Kate answered her knees buckling slightly.

“Use your words for me.” Lucy whispered encouragingly watching Kate struggle between her desire and the last threads of her logic.

Kate met her eyes, pupils blown with lust. She bit her lip as Lucy tugged again at her nipple.

Lucy watched as Kate whimpered. Heat sparking low in her belly at Kate’s heated gaze and sounds.

“Fuck me.” Kate whispered holding Lucy’s gaze. Lucy quirked an eyebrow in challenge. Kate squeezed her ass, hips canting forward. “God, please fuck me, Lucy.”

“Fuck” Lucy gasped as she felt her hips buck up off the counter in response to Kate’s admission. Her right hand slipped out of Kate's sweater and grasped Kate’s hair pulling her down hard. Her left covered her breast squeezing hard.

Lucy pulled Kate’s hair jerking her head back to expose her neck. She nipped at the exposed vein her teeth giving way to her tongue again as she felt Kate’s hips buck forward seeking relief. She slipped lower lathing her collar bone until the sweater blocked her path further south.

Annoyed Lucy pulled back. “Sweater off, now.” She insisted. Kate’s head lolled back towards her trying to process the request in her lust filled brain. “Baby, I need you to take off your clothes so I can fuck you.” Lucy smirked at Kate.

“Sweater” she repeated as Kate’s brain finally registered the request. Kate quickly pulled the sweater over her head throwing it to the side. She reached behind her to pull off her bra dumping it on the floor as well.

“God I’ve missed these.” Lucy murmured as she took in Kate’s naked chest. She ran the back of her fingers down from Kate’s collarbones slowly. Kate’s chest heaved as her fingers drew lower ghosting so closely to where Kate desperately wanted them.

Lucy teased her slipping around the curve of her breast avoiding the hard nipples. Kate groaned annoyed. Lucy smirked. “Patience”

Lucy traced along the edges of her breasts circling, but never touching where Kate wanted her most.

Lucy watched her closely as she paused her motions before one hand came up to pinch her nipple hard. Kate gasped her head lolling back exposing her neck. “Yes” she whimpered.

That whimper broke Lucy’s calm, she attached herself to Kate’s neck both hands coming up to pinch her nipples. She felt Kate’s hand grip the back of her head hard as she slid her lips down Kate’s neck towards her breasts.

Lucy couldn’t wait any longer. She took Kate’s nipple into her mouth sucking hard before softening to lath at it with her tongue. She heard Kate’s groan and felt her slip down slightly her knees buckling.

Lucy switched to the other side teasing Kate’s hard nipple with her tongue, before sucking it fully into her mouth. Her free hand came up to rub over the other nipple causing Kate to groan loudly and fist Lucy’s hair forcefully.

Lucy kept up her assault lost in the sounds she pulled from Kate’s mouth. Kate moaned heatedly holding Lucy’s head tight as her knees wavered again threatening to send her to the floor.

“Luce baby. I…god…I can’t take it…” Kate murmured fisting her hands in Lucy’s jacket and her hair.

Lucy pulled herself back from her assault on Kate’s nipples dazed. She took in Kate’s flushed skin and heaving chest. Her death grip on Lucy’s clothes and hair told Lucy she was struggling hard to stay upright.

Lucy came back to herself slightly. Smirking she flicked open the button on Kate’s khaki’s and tugged down the zipper.

“Are you wet for me?” she asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear Kate confess her desperation.

“You know the answer.” Kate brought her forehead down to rest on Lucy’s holding her gaze.

Lucy slipped her fingers into the edge of Kate’s panties teasing. “Show me.” She challenged holding Kate’s stare.

Kate bit her lip huffing out her desire as her body reacted to Lucy’s demand. Kate gripped Lucy’s hand covering it with her own as she guided it south. She slipped their linked hands under her panties and down into her waiting wetness.

Kate gasped and threw her head back, eyes slipping closed, as Lucy’s fingertips brushed the edges of her soaked lips.

Lucy moaned to feel Kate’s heat. “God you’re soaked.”

“Always.” Kate groaned. “Always for you.” She sighed looking down to meet Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy pushed Kate back and hopped off the counter.

"Bedroom, now."

[muffindaddystyles]

KISMETS.

Harry Styles x fem!reader.

Slow burn, platonic love and jealousy clićhes.

Fluff! Fluff! Fluff!

Frenemies and dad!harry.

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST LETS TALK! PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

"Can ya stop breathing like, THAT!?" She whisper yells twisting to give him a sharp glare full of spleen elbow poking at his side abs, "Like what!?" He half squeaks peering down at her with doe eyes palms flat at sides to convey his surprise.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor.

"Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them. Harry hates her hormones. Little bitches.

Or

Y/N is carrying a baby for Harry and his girlfriend ---  but something went downhill.

//

Twinkling droplets of crystal rain pelts against the bricked road subsiding harsh noises of surrounding but a nettled groan caught everyone's attention ‐‐‐ stares turning in direction. Have you ever wanted to just disappear under a warm invisible cloak and enjoy the drollery aspects of life without worrying? Because this is what Y/N wants at the moment as she stands under the bus stop shelter with few people beside her and the british showers starts pouring mocking at her for not carrying an umbrella with her.

Everyone leaves when the bus didn't arrive — who remains behind's Y/N huffing and pouting wishing for rain to stop. When it didn't she muttered a 'fuck it' before risking catching a cold and stepping under the pitter patter with her books atop her head for less damage.

Trying to punch in the passcode of society's gate with shivery fingers perhaps it opens before that startling her wet-y self. Similar car drives near her and a head pops in from inside with his big goofy smile and crinkles by his charming eyes, "Ni!" She exclaims pushing away the drippy hair sticking to her lips with her pinky.

"Pet you're gonna catch a cold. Want me to drop ya?" Niall kinda yells over the rain's loudness. She sighs fog whirling infront of her. Shoves her hand in her trench coat's pocket to seek for heat instead it's all icky and drenching.

"No it's just a tiny walk away. I'll manage — call me will tell ya how my class went." She waves him looking at him from her shoulder while rushing away towards the most elegant house in the block. Niall gives her a thumbs up from before getting out of sight and she tries to hop over the puddles of water to make it to doorsteps.

The water she brings from outside pooling at the dark timber floor - it trails behind her past the pink door as she rushes jumpy-ly where the most hot's in the house and apparently it's more than she expected, "ouch. ouch my eyes!!" She screams covering them at the sight of Harry butt naked pinning his girlfriend against the wall near fire place. Her face turning into a tomato at the horrendous raid but she seems pissed and well . . displeased that Y/N ruined a mind boggling orgasm for her.

Before, they could disattach from eachother to unravel their humiliation Y/N jogged up to attic into the guest room slamming her forehead against the door to knock away the embarrassment. She always barges in Harry's house without announcing but sometimes she forgets he isn't alone everytime his girlfriend comes to live by every two weeks (it's his fault too that he never locks the main door as anytime anyone's coming at his place). Changes into clothes she forgets at her visits, tries to dry her hair with a towel that no-more smells like Harry but expensive fabric softeners and has a pep talk for a minute to show herself down infront of them.

Instinctive voices coming from the Kitchen and she pads towards it. They act like nothing happened. Like Harry wasn't dick deep into Chessie moments ago. Harry ushers her to barstool and hands her a cuppa tea moving on with a kiss to her head. It still gives her butterflies even though how many sense awakening scoldings she gave to herself at 3 ams.

"'M sorry." She squeaks with a wavering smile wrapping her palms around the mug. Harry cackles softly brushing the underbelly of his nose as Chessie cordinated the cutlery drawer, "'s okay moppet. we finished our business when ye' left." Y/N almost choked on her hot beverage gulping it down when Chessie shocked gasp throwing little socksies that were laying ontop of the counter at Harry. Are those of toddler? Adam's out of town so there's no way it could be his daughter's socks. Maybe Chessies's one of friend's?

"Should've called me t' pick y'up. Niall was loafin' around too —- wear it you're turnin' blue, pet." He comes back with a swarmy chunky knitted sweater Anne gifted him at his birthday handing it to Y/N and sitting opposite of her pulling Chessie with her wrist into his lap clearing his throat to bring Y/N's attention back from eyeing the socks on the floor. Her eyes flicker between them chest tightening at the love and glow that radiates from Harry when he looks at her.

No. She's not jealous. Mightyyyy bit yeah –- cause she could never be this lucky to have someone as Harry. He's the most caring towards her since ten years been her compass to the home she wanted, her anchor saving her from sinking and the sixth sense of a blind to her. In fact she thinks he's her soulmate and not every soulmates needs to be romantically involved some could watch them growing beautiful in love. Y/N's doing it. Admiring the maturity of his life with the person that truly makes him enough---or she thinks so.

"How was ye'r meditation class?" Harry asks (she took a semester off as she was unable to haul the burden'; Harry convinced her how her health should be her first priority) breaking a cookie in two giving half of it to Chessie who thanks him with a kiss in return, "Was good been feelin' great!" She chirps pulling the sleeves of the sweater that's drenched in cinnamon vanilla-y smell with lingers of what comes of as Chessie's scent. She assumes they cuddled shit loads.

To subside the gnaw in her brain down she finally asks the question pointing at the sock that nobody gave a heed to pick up, they stop chewing looking at eachother to come up with something. Chessie's face distressed knowing Harry wouldn't hide it from Y/N. He tells her everything and sometimes it could be too personal to share.

"Erm. . I bought 'em — 'cos. . " Harry stammers and Y/N smacks her hand atop her mouth avoiding from giving a shocked reaction, "Oh my goodness ye' guys are pregnant!?" It was enough to make Chessie flinch and hike down Harry's lap.

"No! 'S not what ye'r thinkin'." He shakes his head making Y/N confused. "Then you bought it fo' your fingers? Cause that's the only body part it could fit." She teases him to break through the insight tension around and he chuckles shaking his head grabbing Chessie's hand rubbing her knuckles how he used to when Y/N's anxious and over the edge.

"We want to have a family." His words low as he looks at Chessie but she shrugs in return as 'in it is what it is'. Y/N stomach twisted at that. The thought that one day He's gonna have a family of his own and the little bubble that Y/N would be privy to made her throat dry. Because she has no-one despite Harry and he deserves the whole world not just baby keeping Y/N everytime.

"So . .? What's the problem?" She raises her brows looking between them noticing Harry's fingers fiddle with the flower tea mats, "There are complications from Chessie's side." Chessie sighs in disappointment and Y/N ponders over the idea, clocks working and spindling wildly in her mind.

"I could do that for you guys — since I took a semester off --–" She puts the offer nervously and both of their jaws went slack Harry with an adoring grin while Chessie in hitting shock. "--Erm we could go through a traditional surrogacy."

"Are you sure?" Chessie asks squeezing her shoulder and Y/N nodded taking both of their hands, "Anything for ye' guys!" Harry's eyes glossing over and he leaves his spot sprawling his arms calling for her, "Gimme a hug pet. Life saver ye're - we're gonna take care of ye." They group hug tightly and excitedly.

Sometimes actions could speak much more than words because the lies that words hold could ruin the great bondages.

. . .

They went through the medical procedure two days after Her, Harry and Chessie being guided by their acquired doc. She was nervous and sweaty but Harry's presence beside her soothed out any negativity that was building inside her brain. By womb the babies would be Harry's and Y/N but legally Chessie's and Harry. She's just wishing that everything goes alright cause that happiness of them is million worthy to her.

People might call her stupid and brainless for going through sickness, crankiness, back pains and the pain during labour just to give those babies to someone else (she's too afraid to call them her's cause she knows her emotional attachments could be very destructive) but she loves Harry and love makes you do those thingies.

At the moment she's on the toilet seat eyes bolted shut counting threes with the pregnancy test in her wavering fingers. "Please it better work." A squeal of surprise leaves her lungs when her eyes fell over the two positive lines quickly dragging her panties over she tumbled outside where everyone's waiting for her.

"You guys are pregnant!!" Sounds dumb right? She announces loudly. Harry's and Chessie's heads perked up while everyone cheered beers spilling from the rims. She flashed grins to each one of them splitting her gaze away from Harry giving Chessie a celebratory kiss.

"Thank you. Oh my god, love! Can't belive it." Harry held her from shoulders giving her a toothy smile and it puts her off that Chessie didn't say anything just a nod along Harry. "Me too." She breathes out as he leads her to sofa sitting her cautiously. "We'll visit the doctor tommorrow." He reassures popping his head from Sarah's neck as she hugged him tight.

"We're gonna have a little Y/N and Harry running and pooping it's nappies soon." Everyone went silent. A grimace on Y/N and Chessie's face. Niall doesn't know when to shut up does he? Y/N's gonna strangle him alive. Harry laughed out aloud not caring about the thick tension in room, "I'll rip ye'r hair if you'll turn me baby into a golf freak Niall." His baby.

Niall raises his hands in defence, "No guarantees Harold."

. . .

They had a check-up and Y/N indeed's pregnant. Harry's over the moon. Kissing her forehead. Thanking her for millionth time – to the point she told him to let her watch telly in peace and shut up. Chessie bringing her organic vegan dishes that Y/N isn't a fan of but eats nevertheless under Harry's stern gaze. "'S not about them only I want ye' to be healthy too, pet. Can't be selfish now can I?" He'd insist.

When she'd be sick he'd be at her side giving her back rubs while Chessie stood at the doorframe of washroom. Y/N thinks since she's pregnant her womanly instincts has gotten more sharp as she sensed something's off between the pair.

He'd be at her flat early morning waking her up to have a morning walk with him not giving in her grunts and whines. Who'd want to leave their crispy warm bed to just be out in the cold? A fool like Harry only. Making her brekkie afterwards as a reward giggling and massaging her shoulders when she'd gobble down food like a greedy squirrel, "Easy there love. 'S all yours."

Chessie's back at LA. They had a small argument because Harry wants her to be participating in all of this as much as he's. But, her priorities are not set for this. They never were.

Y/N was at Harry's place nibbling onto chocolate cupcakes Anne sent specifically for her with a note ("my grandchild shouldn't be privy to their Nana's bakin' skills all my love to Y/N." along a winky smiley) when she spilled cold milk all over her nooked tee-shirt. Harry gave her his clothes to change into and baby wipes but she warded him with a scoff that water exists. She has become more feisty with each passing day.

Was discarding the tee when her gaze fell over the sveltest of bump in the mirror taking her breath away. It makes her realize it's all real. She never touches her belly in fear if she'd she will never stop. Now, when the pads of her fingers skim alongs the skin it strips shivers down her spine. She always wanted this. Not in this scenario though. Shaking her head of the thoughts she slips Harry's hoodie over it climbing down the stairs and it causes Harry to snap his head in alert. He stops chopping the carrots spinning to see Y/N standing feet away from him.

"My baby bump's showing." Her voice almost a whisper and it widens Harry's pupils as his hands fell in air midway between them hesitant to reach her, "Can I see?" She bobs her head shyly cheeks blazing red while revealing the bump for Harry to see. It's not like he hasn't seen her before. He has. But, this's more intimate than all of that. It made him fall on his knees. He's a sensitive person in general. Pure from heart but during this period it seems like he's pregnant not Y/N which's quite amusing too.

"She's beautiful." His gaze full of adoration. "She?" Y/N furrows her brow with a smile. He bobbed his head with a grin, "Think so our baby's gonna be she." Now that's the problem cause Y/N doesn't know which ours he's talking about.

"My pregnancy instincts says it's he." He scoffs, "Bet!?" She rolls her eyes forwarding her fist to do the hand shake they do while betting, "If you loose your pink macbook gonna be mine." They solid the deal with their traditional shake.

"Can I touch it?" Harry's asks politely. When she gives him permission he spreads his warm palms flat against her tummy tongue tied with the affection boozing in his veins for the baby that's not out in the world yet. Y/N eyes flutters and her fingers twitches by her sides from carding them into his hair. This's wrong she scolds herself. Her hormones all over the place.

"You wanna send a picture to Chessie?" At this his lips thinned and he gave her a curt nod standing up to fetch his phone, "Sure. But she might be busy..." on the verge of spitting his words in vile.

. . .

Y/N was reading a crime mystery book. Stroking the side of her baby bump carelessly. Cosy in her blanket hoodie telly murmuring in the distance. "Your dad's taste in books is shit, innit?" She peers down with a smile. It's the first time she's talking to them. "We'll read loads of good books together so that when you'll grow up – I could know what to gift you on Christmas." She tries to grab more popcorns from the bowl but it's empty. "Wanna be best aunt out there!!"

"Will you miss me? As much as I'll when we'll be separated?" Tears well up at her waterline. She huffs through her nose running her hand down her belly several times. It's coming; the breakdown she was toiling for days. "I know it sucks I cant be your mommy." Her cravings kicking in and all she want's a strawberry oreo icecream.

"Oh no. Seriously? I'm sad and ye' lil bean want an ice? Let's call your daddy and see what he got." She rings him and he picks up on the third one. Voice groggy from the sleep. She wants to feel bad but she isn't when all her taste buds could think of is strawberry flavour.

"'M cravin' strawberry ice-cream bad. . . Is it possible for ya to bring one?" He's already throwing duvets off his body reaching for his phone and wallet, "No worries pet I'll be there in tick."

"What the fuck Harry? It's three in the mornin'." Chessie groaned from beside him throwing pillow at her face. "We already stored her fridge with alot of food — " She squints about to change the side.

"She's carrying a baby for us Chess. Ye should know better since ya didn't wanted to." She sits up like bullet folding her arms against her chest.

"Thank you for throwing it at my face, H." He doesn't even spare her a glance walking outside and Chessie wants to scream at the top of her lungs. Why did she even agreed to this?

. . .

When he bought her ice-cream she throws herself in his arms kissing his cheek and he giggled in return feeling good when her bump pressed against him. They ate ice-cream with a bantering mess discussing names of the babies, the one that Chessie and Harry decided, him telling her about the little onesies they bought hearing that Y/N stood up taking out a little bag from the chests of drawers.

"I hope you wouldn't mind." She mutters showing him the lil knitted gloves and Harry slid his palm above her's wrapping them snugly, "I don't want ye' to think ya can't love on 'em 'cos after all it's ye'r womb they belong too." Her lip wobbles at his words and she stuffs her face against his chest fisting the hem. It fred away butterflies inside Harry. He sucka his lip. He shouldn't be acting like this. He has a girlfriend that he's gonna have a baby with. They're happy or atleast he thinks so.

They've been bestfriend for years and those feelings never drowned him. Is it because now she's having his babies? Maybe? Harry tries to convince himself.

When he looks down Y/N's drooling onto his shirt deep into slumber. He pecks her hair slipping his arms under her to hold her firmly against his chest. Laying her on the bed tucking her under blankets.

. . .

It sounds like multiple thuds as doctor hovered the ultrasound device over her gelled cover belly. Her belly growing way faster than it should. Her gaze glued at the ceiling fingers crossed. Harry and Chessie holding hands tight gazes fixed at the screen both of them confused at the disoriented image. They all were on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Y/N wished that someone could give her a huge warm hug to soothe her nerves down. But, in the first place she shouldn't be worried about the gender as it's none of concern but theirs. It's getting hard day by day.

"It's twins!" Doctor announces chirply getting a wave of silence in return. But, soon the room filled with happy giggles and gasps of Harry as he went to hug Chessie who's expressionless from shock. Y/N pouts wishing it was her. Smiling at doctor when she squeezed her hand in consolation. She's frightened though. How could she deliver two babies? To deal with the roughness that comes along them? Gonna be pretty hectic.

"We hit a jackpot, innit?" He grins down at her kissing Chessie's cheek last time before leaning down to hug her. "Gonna be super carin' with ye' now." Y/N gives a pat to his back in return awkwardly eyeing as Chessie left the room hastily.

. . .

It rakes against the wood harshly as Chessie glided keys of Harry's house towards him without a word. He puts the baby guide book aside arching his brow, "I can't do this anymore. I want an out." Dread. Seeping down Harry's bones.

Guarding himself down he grits, "What do ya mean you want an out? We agreed with full consent of yours Chessie." She shakes her head furiously.

"I didn't sign up for two of 'em Harry I could barely be there for one!!" He puts his elbows on his knees head lowering, "But you wanted to have a family with me didn't ye'?" His eyes tearing and she throws her head back in annoyance finding it difficult to make him understand.

"No. No – No. You wanted a family! Because of your continuous protests I gave in. Told you I wasn't ready for all of this bullshit now we are here." She emphasises. Harry stands up from his seat towering her pointing a finger at her.

He's rageous. Could burn this house down. How could she be so mean? Cowarding back at the last moment.

"Don't call it bullshit." He spits full of venom for the woman he mighty love and she snaps her head other way, "Congrats she finally ruined us and couldn't be more happy – now that she's having your mother fuckin' babies." He stumbles back knocking the coffee table lungs congesting.

"Don't drag her in all of this she's innocent." She laughs ironically looking him square in eyes yelling like a maniac, "Gave her your sperms now you can't hold back from fucking her. I knew it. You were fucking her behind my back weren't you?" She thinks of him like that? A cheater? He loved her and she always thought he was cheating her.

"Don't yell. I don't want to see ye'r cruel face when I come back home." He tries not to croak mustering strength to walk away from her. Exposing himslef to freezing weather locking himself in his car and crying his heart out. Sky crying along him. He punches the steering wheel brutally shouting "why's?" Head falling atlast as he thought of all his dreams shattering at his feet.

She caged him instead of giving him shelter. Replaced the butterflies he used to get from her with a burning hell in his pit, should've been mother of his children now she's just an ex.

The excruciating part is how he's gonna tell Y/N about this? She'll be crushed.

. . .

"Oh my god . . ." It was the roar of thunder that startled her but something else took her attention away. That tinsy kick protruding the taught skin of her belly, ". . . which one of you?" She was extra happy today. It's swimming in her head. It's just a thought but sharing it with Harry wouldn't kill someone. She wanna ask him if she could've one of the babies. It's just she's too much into the moment that she forgot she still have a degree to complete. A career to pursue and a life she always wanted.

When there's a knock at door she tries to stand up with the support of armrest a hand on her back. A gasp falling from her mouth at the sight of Harry's clothes soaked and another when he looks up with bloodshot eyes. Tears dried cheeks and heaving chest seeming utterly devastated.

"Pet what happened!?" She grabs him from elbow pulling him inside and he falls onto his knees smashing his cheeks against her showing tummy -- a sob recking through him, "Harry you're scarin' me. Tell me what happened is everything okay?"

"Chessie don't want these babies - sh-she didn't wanna ruin her career but atlast agreed . . . n-n now she doesn't want 'em 'n wants an out." He stutters. White noise deafening Y/N's ears and she steps back with expressions as if she's scared. Horrified of the future.

"It means she never had complications? She just didn't wanted her body to go through all of this." When Harry didn't fill in to her inquiry she flopped onto sofa from the shock shoving her face into her palms giving out a cry of hurt at her stupidity.

"God. I'm such an idiot!" He shakes his head crawling towards her with sad eyes and lil hiccups, "No please don'tcha say that. We'll figure it out yeah? Never wanted this t'happen." God. How bad he wants her to assure him that it'll be alright.

"You'll figure out what, huh!? Leaving them just like she did!?" Swear Harry felt a dagger jabbing it's way into his heart more upsetting tears spilling down his throat. "I hate you guys. They're none of your babies from now on. . ."

"Leave." She orders him wiping her tears roughly with the sleeve of her jumper. Running out of breath with each sniffle. Raises her hand stopping him to step forward and protest, "I said leave before I make you!!" He nods inhaling breath of remorse looking at the ceiling for a second then to her.

"Before, that want ya t'know. I still want 'em. They're mine. How could I not? love 'em. Hope ya'll forgive me." Then it's just sobs of Y/N taking over the buzz of telly as the door ticks. He didn't leave though. He's too afraid to. His back sliding against her door knees closing against his chest letting it all dawn upon him. His green luscious orbs hooding with sadness and the fluff of his curls.

Dunno if Y/N would be able to forgive him.

. . .

He woke up to a boot nudging to his thigh squinting up to find Niall stating down at him with consoling eyes. Poor Harry slept in the hallway. His neck sore and limbs stoned.

"Heard it 'lad. Was suspicious with Chessie long way." He helps Harry stand up patting his shoulders, "Y/N called ye'?" He grogs rubbing his eye with knuckles. When Niall confirms he quips with pleading eyes in a low whisper knowing he'll get his hair ripped if that furious little mama bunny will find him outside.

"Ye' think she'll forgive meh?" Niall chuckles to light up the situation, "'course H. Do ya think our pet's that ruthel—" He bites his tongue. Harry's gaze following the snap of his neck when the door opened revealing Y/N in a lilac chunky sweater. Puffy eyes and swollen lips. Harry feeling like a dickhead at her condition. It's all his fault. Then their eyes fall at the piping hot cuppa of tea in her hand.

With a stoic face she hands it to Harry and pulls Niall inside slamming the door at curly boy's face. So, she knew he was there sharing a door with her the whole night.

. . .

"Isn't it a good thing thou, love?" Niall smiles. He's chill in all of this. Watching it unwrap. They were meant for eachother Niall thinks so, "You wanted one of 'em and ended up havin' a whole bean can." She groans throwing her peach plushie at his chest. A smile swirming up her lips at his silly statement now that she's more stable less sad.

"You're the absolute worst, Ni!" He holds her cold hands tugging her close to make her look, "Want ya to forgive H. He did nothin' wrong, pet." When she pouts ruffling the silk strands of her rug with her feet he grabs her chin.

"Remember how happy he was? Don't go mad on him yeah?" She bobs her head not meeting his gaze. Meanwhile, there's knock at the door and Niall takes it laughing to himself softly at the box of doughnuts with a note.

"What is it?" He's already flopping beside her hooking his nimble finger around the white doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, "If I'd have known pregnant ladies gets treated this way. Would be havin' one baby every year." She smacks him in belly and unlatches the note reading it with a sucked lip.

Ye'r antenatal class's tommorrow. Don't forget to take ye vitamins :)

How gentle, calm and optimistic Harry could be needles her some.

. . .

Harry's waiting for her in the car fiddling with the radio. He isn't gonna lie. He's been going through a heartbreak. To cope with it he wants to accompany Y/N in her parent craft classes. When she waddles towards his car cosied up in a yellow baggy sweater and a cardigan Harry remembers she stole from him ages ago he mighty scrunched his nose in adoration at her cuteness.

Her nose pink and cheeks flushing as she slips into her seat, "Can you stop bringin' me stuff. I know how to take care of myself." She nips at him when he forwards her a kale smoothie. He doesn't seem to mind. Both, of them knows very well she's trying to avoid drinking it. She finds it yucky!

"Wanna take care of ya'll is all." He mumbles putting it in her side's cup holder. Ya'll .She regrets it instantly. Damn his puppy eyes!

. . .

"Mr. Styles and . . . Miss Y/N." The instructor calls them and they both raises their hand awkwardly as if in elementary school. "You're the parents of twin right?" She asks. Y/N wanted to say that their supposed to be parent ran off from the fear. But, she couldn't. Could never. It'll be like rubbing salt to his wounds. Bestfriends don't do that shit even in their most anger.

"Yes." She confirms. When Harry didn't. Scared if he might say something wrong. "Ok then! Lay your mats n' have a seat." Harry guides her with the little of his hand on her back. Her shoulder nudging his taut chest, and goosebumps pimples at her skin when his fingers brushes the side of her belly as he helps her sit down.

She takes an all rounder of the room and none of the parents looks like they're here to prepare for war unlike them. She shyly waves at the two mothers beside her and Harry twinges his lip equally flustered as her.

They start with relaxation and breathing exercises. Telling Y/N to let herself loose in Harry's arms. She fumbles with the hem of her sweater when his fingers gingerly winked at her sides and the lull of his breath hit her earlobe.

"Can ya stop breathing like, THAT!?" She whisper yells twisting to give him a sharp glare full of spleen elbow poking at his side abs, "Like what!?" He half squeaks peering down at her with doe eyes palms flat at sides to convey his surprise.

"Like a train engine whistling -- it's annoying." She mutters rolling her eyes and turning back to listen to instructor. "Now, I can't even breath without ye' comin' fo' me throat?" He grits with a kink of brows and when she confirms with a no --- He gasps dramatically. He hates her hormones little bitches.

It's gonna be a long journey of Hell for them.

. . .

"Are you hungry?" He asks turning the heat on knowing how cold her feet could get in the span of seconds. She huffs trying to buckle her belt and it squirms a fond smile out of him at her cute effort to be put in place due to her bump. If he'd coo. She'd rip him into tiny bits. It's better if he gazes away.

"Does it mean emptying your pocket?" She arches her brow sinking into her seat. "Bitso. . " He chuckles softly drumming at the steering wheel.

"Then I'd love to." She adds with a smirk. Clasping her hands atop her heart outta excitement. It makes him shake his poof of hickorey curls at her silliness.

They end up taking a takeout of onion loaded cheese burgers. Greasy fries. An iced-tea and a box of cookies from Babara's shop a block away from Harry's house.

"Wanna choose fo' ye'rself?" He asked her before going inside and she denied with a worried expression. Not knowing how she'll explain all of this to Babara who's her one of the good friends from UNI. Harry respects that. If she isn't ready to talk about it he isn't gonna pressurize her. They've been dodging the serious talk since she let him take to parental classes. Knows one day or another they've to decide how it's all gonna work.

. . .

Good food can make you more high than actual drugs. Licking their fingers off now they feel all sleepy and lazy sitting on the comfortable sofa watching telly with hooded eyes.

Harry's cheek smushed adorably against her baby bump ears tuned into what his babies are talking about.

"You know what? 'S not about winners or loosers. Bu' I won." She bubble hiccups slumping deeper with sugar rush hitting her. "Huh? Harry mumbles eyes drooping. The cotton balls of snowflakes glittering outside, collecting at the window and foging them up.

"I get to have babies of my bestfriend and this nice foodddd — 'n what did Chessie got? No babies and no happy feeling of being their mother." Harry shots up from his snooze blinking up at her and she quickly takes it back regret eating her alive, "'m sorry it slipped."

"No!!" He almost shouts cupping her cheeks making her look at him. His dimples deeps that someone could scoop them like an ice-cream. He gives her an eskimo kiss that makes her veins run with glittery blood.

"I wan' ye' to be the mother of me babies." No hesitation. No dithering. Just him asking for the tinsy bit of her heart. For her forgiveness. For the love they've kept blind eye for years. "We'll figure this out, yeah?" He murmurs their lips brushing and breaths kissing. Pulling back with a forehead kiss.

She lives for forehead kisses makes her shallow tin heart explode with glittery firecrackers.

She nods to give him the affirmation that she wants what he wants.

.