#So please just let me enjoy this discovery rather than judge

[the-busy-ghost]

Finally learnt what a dactyl actually is and I’m going to have to take a moment to lie down 

[hillariat]

Bubbline fanfic rec list

I did it. I made a master rec list of good Bubbline fanfics. Will keep updating this until I leave the fandom.

Grouped by setting (eg. Highschool AU, AT universe, Family AU etc.) in alphabetical order. They’re all romantic bubbline unless stated otherwise. This is a living document so I’ll be updating it every now and then with new fics and stuff. For any questions, changes or additions, please feel free to pm me on reddit/tumblr @hillariat

*SMUT = A significant portion of the fic is dedicated to SMUT

*some SMUT= A part of the fic has explicit smut, but it isn't a major part of the story

*UwU=personal faves

calamitous love

Author: lexaproeighty

Setting: Astronaut AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,173

Tags: Fluff, emotionally stupid PB.

Summary: Author’s summary: bonnie's in her feelings. oh, and about to go into space.

what was missing

Author: spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,678

Tags: Fluff, emotionally constipated PB.

Summary: Honestly the most solid, canon compliant take on their relationship. I loved this shit and half my headcanons are from here.

Author’s summary: In which Bonnie has feelings, she does, but feelings are hard and complicated and she rather ignore them until they punch her in the face.

Let you Lead

Author: purplebutterflies

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,225

Tags: Fluff, Mild comedy,Marceline being an idiot

Summary: Marceline being a useless gay and Bonnie taking the lead. Writing gets better after the inciting incident, trust me.

After UwU

Author: 61wisampa

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 23,888

Tags: Major character death, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Moving On, Friendship

Summary: This shit be an intense feels trip yo. Like an "I stayed up ‘til 6am" kind of intense. I had to reread this fic twice in order to emotionally process everything. It definitely isn't your average bubbline angst.

Author’s summary: It was hard, having someone similar yet different. It kept Marceline stuck walking along the line that prevented her from moving on.

Everybody Knows Your Name

Author: Sunshine18

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,671

Tags: Exes, Discussion of past abuse, past Ash being an asshole, pre-bubbline

Summary: Solid exploration of PB and Marcy as exes and how they started becoming "civil" post breakup. References to major events in early AT and how PB and Marcy were affected. Can be read independently of “Contact” even though it is a sequel of that.

Bitter Sugar UwU

Author: QueenOfTheRevue (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Discontinued | 72,000

Tags: Political drama, Arranged marriage, Political Conspiracy, fantasy

Summary:The plot's so intense it deserves to be in a goddamn Kdrama. Literally never read anything else like it in the fandom. A well done, intense drama set in a unique  political landscape. Hybrid democratic monarchies, Age old conspiracies, fandom references, Marceline in military uniform, c'mon just read it!.

Musicology series

Author: CountingWithTurkeys

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 625,723 (as of 06/02/2021) 

Tags: Canon compliant, angst, fluff, mindfuckery, sociopathic people, some SMUT

Summary: Set in a possible but not probable AT universe. Darker and heavier overall tone. It's the kind of fic that will give your brain a workout. Dysfunctional Bubbline that becomes healthier. Solid portrayal of dysfunction with a believable interpretation of PB and Marcy

VR

Author: deltau

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,004

Tags: Fluff, SMUT, virtual reality, shapeshifting

Summary: Bonnie gets her VR machine working and the couple delves into the realm of Marcy's mind. Bonnie makes some pleasant discoveries and afterwards they have some fun time. 

Our perfect disease

Author: JupiterDelphinus

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 112,000

Tags: Non-chronological, anthology, some SMUT, fluff, hurt/comfort, canon divergent

Summary: Past, present and future scenes from the pair. Tone and ratings (G to EXPLICIT) vary according to the chapter. Each chapter is a self contained narrative that helps build the overarching Bubbline story. Very cute, very uwu feels.

Apples after Midnight series

Author: Xekstrin

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 18,565

Tags: SMUT, feels, fluff

Summary: Starts off smutty but then has a lot of feels. Has a legitimate exes romance plot.

The One Where There's No Gunther

Author: ijemanja (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,899

Tags: Comedy, Fluff

Summary: Has very good AT-esque dialogue.I can actually imagine the characters saying the lines.

Author's summary: All are welcome at the Coffee Kingdom, even pain in the ass vampire queens. (No Ice Kings, though.)

Double Sugar, Extra Whip

Author: amphitrite

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,067

Tags: College, Fluff

Summary: Classic coffee shop AU. Think a Vanilla latte. You know what you're getting

Palpitations

Author: ValhallaKoala

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 6,298

Tags: Comedy, College, Adorable af

Summary: Author's summary: Black coffee tastes just as good as a caramel macchiato, right? Right!?

Or

Bonnibel is socially inept and makes some questionable decisions.

Viscosity UwU

Author: The Denominator

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 9,049

Tags: Feels, non-chronological, sexual references

Summary: College AU but definitely not a classic college AU. It's one of a kind, makes you feel

C's get degrees

Author: megapidgeots

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 102,550

Tags: Comedy, fluff, feels, just college roomies getting along

Summary: Classic College AU, you get what you see. 

Author's summary: Bonnie has just started her first year of University, and finds she has a mostly neutral-verging-on-hesitantly-positive opinion of her new roommate, Marceline.

Cliché

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 67,493 (06/02/2021)

Tags: Comedy, fluff

Summary:College AU but you try to cram as many tropes in as possible. It's fun

Five.

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,883 

Tags: Fluff

Author’s summary:The other woman hesitated, eyes doing that thing where they narrowed and seemingly judged Bonnibel for existing, and then she sighed. “I don’t hate you,” She murmured and Bonnibel felt a weird feeling of what felt like relief come over her.

Escort

Author: breeeliss

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 21,058

Tags: SMUT, sexual tension, teasing, build up

Summary: Marcy is a tease and Bonnie is a thot.

Show and Tell

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 1,527 (as of 06/02/2021)

Tags: soon to be SMUT, Camgirl, toys, strong sexual references

Summary: Character interactions (so far) are adorable and endearing. Really makes you ship them

Entry 38 UwU

Author: deltau

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,969

Tags: SMUT, sad feels, strap-on, car sex

Summary: Smut and sad feels

Happy Birthday, Kitten

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College Party AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,030

Tags: SMUT, car sex, praise kink, Top! Bonnie

Summary: Cop Bonnie and Party girl Marcy. That is all. Come get your Top! Bonnie smut

Coincidence

Author: mellish

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,932

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Break up, Sad ending

Summary: “It’s like holding a test tube and not knowing what’s inside it, not knowing how much damage will be done if it breaks apart.” Traces their relationship from beginning to end. Has my fave ending line of all fics on this list.

Groupies Wanna Get Fucked

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: Concert, human AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,973

Tags: SMUT

Summary: Author's summary: Bonnibel's NOT a groupie. Except, she is because this is smut. Enjoy! :)

Chemistry

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Concert, human AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 2,784

Tags: First meeting

Summary: Very cute character interaction. Short and sweet.

40 Weeks

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Family AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 221,000

Tags: Pregnancy, Cavity inducing fluff, Slice of life, sexual references

Summary: Domestic grown adult bubbline? Check. Hella extra know it all Bonnie? Check. Snarky Marcy? Check. Some deep feels and backstory? Check. Tooth rotting bubbline fluff? Check. Why the hell aren't you reading this?? This story is really good, starts slow but really picks up after like chapter 12

Pray for the Preacher's daughter UwU

Author: reliquiaen (Ao3) / ArcaFeretory (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 232,197

Tags: Slow burn

Summary:THE fic for the Bubbline fandom. Its the fic that everyone knows and recommends and for good reason. Strong execution of the Punk x Goody two shoes formula.Just... read it if you’d read HS AUs

Anonymous UwU

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 229,681 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, TW for abuse

Summary:The second coming of Pray for the preacher's daughter. JK. Seriously though it's a good slow burn with quality that is as good, if not better than, Pray for the preacher's daughter. The bubbline duo in this fic are just,, pure. So pure I can feel the cavities. Also the author updates every week (as of 6/02/2021)

High School Confidential

Author: gloss

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,085

Tags: Fluff, Flirting

Summary: Marceline never gets too attached to one place or person. In fact, it's probably for the best because her family constantly moves from place to place like nomads. She might stick around this time though. Cute interactions and flirting.

Variants

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,918

Tags: Fluff

Author’s summary:Every species has its variants. Bonnie's just trying to figure out which ones are good and which ones are bad.

A love like war

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 433,715 

Tags: Slow burn

Summary: Bonnie moves from New York to some tiny af town in the middle of nowhere. She is not happy.

Different UwU

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Discontinued | 25,022

Tags: Cavity inducing sweet Fluff, Autism, discrimination

Summary: Very sweet and fluffy. Like an I will need to go to the dentist level fluff. Characterisation is a bit OOC but it's a very well written piece. I would send this to people who aren't in the fandom and say it's an original piece. It's that good.It ends off in a good place too.

Tourniquet

Author: alizarin_scribbles

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,883 

Tags: Mutual Pining, Angst, Sad ending

Summary: Star crossed lovers that were so close.

Author’s summary: How they were now was normal enough, not too intimate or indifferent in any respect. Back then, their relations simply didn't have any room for change. Now, Bonnie couldn't help but wonder exactly how such casual acquaintanceship had led to the ghostlike fire currently trickling through her veins.

Glandular Fever

Author: reliquiaen (Ao3) / ArcaFeretory (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete |3,740

Tags: Comedy, Fluff

Summary: Author's summary: In which I bundled all the awkward situations I could into a oneshot... and then made them worse.

the secret admirer

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete |4,724

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, Bonnie being a disaster, Marceline being soft

Summary: Author’s summary: #ohsconfession220: To the girl who always hangs out in the library with the red hair and round glasses and freckles i think you’re the cutest person i’ve ever seen pls date me

Bonnie has a secret admirer... and she kind of hates it.

Will You Sign My Cast?

Author: bigpinkbaguette

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing |22,122

Tags: Angst, slowburn, childhood friends, enemies to lovers

Summary: The slow burn that hurts so, so much. Otherwise known as Bonnie is too emotionally constipated to deal with the baggage she has with Marceline.

Slacker

Author: CandiedSweets

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing |36,806

Tags: Fluff, angst, Bonnie being the most useful gay ever, Useless gay Marceline

Summary: *gasps, a multi-chapter high school AU that isn't a slowburn?! Yep you heard right!

Author’s summary: Marceline’s missed a few days of school and a certain pink haired classmate brings her the work she’s missed, but accidentally finds out something about her in the process.

Bass Guitars and Grandad's Ashes

Author: LastOneFromHometown

Setting: Road trip AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 41,448 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Comedy, feels, trippy af, slight angst

Summary: Somehow makes even a funeral comedic. Has a very wild and funny charm to it whilst still having moments of feels. Trippy af, really has some AT vibes in it. Fun read.

Hooligans on the Highway

Author: Valverbek

Setting: Road trip AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 13,123 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Comedy, fluff, established relationship

Summary: A lighthearted and fun read about the gang going on a road trip for Finn’s 21st. Cute & chaotic vibes.

Slaughterhouse UwU

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Serial Killer AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 6,846

Tags: Murder, police, gore

Summary: Who'd be the best match for our beloved serial killer? Why, another psycho of course. One of my personal favorites

The Prolific Works of the Arctic Butcher

Author: HaveFunStormingTheCastle

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 40,627 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: angst, feels, exes, murder mystery,serial killer, slow burn, reunions 

Summary: Bonnibel is the mayor of Kingdom city. When seemingly unconnected and unsolved murders begin popping up left and right, Bonnie starts doing her own investigations, believing that there may be more than meets the eye. Somehow that brings her on a collision course with Marceline, successful rockstar extraordinaire and her ex. Circumstances force them both to examine their shared past and revisit the destruction they each left in their wake as they investigate a sinister killer with seemingly devious intentions for them both.

There she is (Or what to do when your ex is back in town)

Author: durantesknight

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 11,586

Tags: Exes, feels

Summary: A fascinating translation of the Bubbline relationship into a modern setting. This shit legit got me feeling.

Author's summary: Its been seven years since the last time Bonnie and Marceline saw each other, things weren't okay back then, they're not better now.

40 Weeks prequel series (can be read independently of each other and 40 weeks) :

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Working adults AU

1)This Could Be The Start Of Something

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,214

Tags: Graduation, first meeting, mild homophobia, anaphylaxis

Summary:Marceline and Jake crash a graduation party for free drinks. An ambulance was called.

2)To Fall, Gently And Otherwise

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,628

Tags: Fluff

Author's summary: Set between chapters one and two of This Could Be The Start Of Something. After three years of sharing an apartment Marceline really should know better than to take Jake's date advice.

3)Counterpoint

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,065

Tags: Hurt/comfort, intellectual rivalry, differing opinions on alternative medicine, historical character death, feels

Author's summary: Even the most perfect couples can clash when they believe in fundamentally different things. But is Bonnie ready to swallow her pride and apologize even when she thinks she's in the right?

First and Last

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 15,351

Tags: hurt/comfort, feels, family, repressed gay

Summary: Just....intense feels

Orion

Author: NightBearrors

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,750

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, feels, exes, ambiguous end

Summary: Their reunion was like a tangent, colliding once only to depart again.

Dough

Author: ArrowOvis

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1707

Tags: angst, feels, exes, implied rape

Summary: Author summary: Dough can be a lot of things - wet, dry, fluffy, flat, pre-mixed, under-mixed...a lot. But most importantly, it can be shaped into something it wasn't before. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, only time can tell.

Alternatively titled: Bonnibel Buchman got screwed over and doesn't deal with it well.

Stripped

Author: Asharyn

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 14,708

Tags: Fluff, some SMUT

Summary: Where Bonnie be whipped for Marcy. And vice versa. Honestly, just fluff and smut stripper AU.

End Of The World

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Zombie Apocalypse AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,465

Tags: Death, Gore, feels

Summary: zombie apocalypse AUs are basically non-existent for this ship, so here's a good one.

Experiments

Author: spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)

Setting: Zombie Apocalypse AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 9,194

Tags: Death, Gore, feels,angst

Summary: If you’ve ever wanted to read a zombie AU written by an actual doctor this is it. It's good. Set in The Last of Us (TLOU) universe though you can go into this without knowing anything about TLOU and still have a good experience. 

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 23 - So Far From Who I Was

Masterlist; Chapter 22

Summary: As plans for operation in Stalsk-12 are underway, you and Neil can’t seem to find a common ground. His selfish plans overturn everything...

Warnings: Even more angst (sorry!!! swear it will be over very soon); swearing; some slightly dubious thoughts appearing in the reader’s minds but it’s nothing too serious.

Author’s Notes: Okay, I’m really sorry for the 10.8k, but it once again shows that I’m incapable of writing short things. This one is a wild ride and it was fun to write even if painful at times... I hope you’ll ‘enjoy’! Let me know how you liked it... and I promise... fun is near :)))

From that morning, when the precious intel magically appeared for you all to use, the metaphorical dice were cast. The last stage of the plan was officially on, and there was not much time to waste. After two days of chaotic talks, interrupted by training and trying to make sense of living aboard the icebreaker, you were told to meet with everyone else on the bridge for the official confab. Your war council consisted of TP, Neil, Ives, Wheeler, and yourself. And you were the first to admit that you had no clue what your job was supposed to be there. However, ignoring the deepening sleep deprivation, pounding headache, and weariness that has made home in your heart, you made it to the destination with time to spare. That morning the sky over the Barents Sea was overcast with heavy, grey clouds, increasing your internal melancholia and tiredness. Basically, life was hard. And you still contemplated joining the seals. Probably more often than any sane person should. But then you never really considered yourself rational. Sighing, for the umpteenth time this morning, you sat down on the sofa and relished in the solitude. In moments like this, without the oxygen mask making you feel close to suffocation, or the looming danger of losing your control around certain individuals, you were almost at peace. They never lasted long.

“Morning sunshine,” Ives marched into the room with a grin on his face.

He was one of the people you could tolerate. Still.

“Hi,” you cracked a smile of your own in his direction.

He took off the mask and opened up the laptop, preparing for the meeting. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Ives groaned, stretching his limbs exaggeratedly.

“The bloody bunkbeds are a pain in the arse,” you snickered at the comment.

“My condolences,” offering him a mournful expression, you stood up.

Wandering over to the panoramic windows, you took a moment to stare at a seagull diving on the horizon. Well, technically it was springing up from the sea, but you preferred to imagine the traditional way of things. Just to maintain a functioning brain.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have a Prince Charming looking out for their comfort you know” the casual remark made you look up at Ives.

Sure as hell, he was grinning smugly, satisfied by how he has managed to catch you off guard. But that was not the most outraging bit…

“Prince Charming?” you repeated with a deepening frown, “Spare me please, I’d rather forget he exists” conversation was ruined.

Prince Charming, my ass. Unless those tended to be lying bastards that never knew what they wanted. Or terrifyingly beautiful idiots that should never be trusted. Well… fuck.

“Good luck with that” Ives patted you on the shoulder.

You knew that despite the nonchalance, he was someone you could count on. For a second, you contemplated asking him to punch Neil next time he shows up. However, all train of thought disappeared when the man himself walked into the room the very next minute. That same neutral smile on his face, blocking off any attempts to read his mood. His gaze slipped over you. A shadow of a frown as though your presence was not a pleasant discovery. Just brilliant.

“Good morning” Neil nodded in your direction.

You could see Ives hesitate as though wondering how much could have been overheard. You found that you did not care. Ever since your blunder in the kitchen, you came to a decision that you need not hold back. Neil never did, after all.

“Morning mate” Ives squeezed his shoulder in a greeting.

Before either of you were forced to initiate small talk, TP marched in, with Wheeler following at his heels. With the whole team on board, you could skip the awkwardness and begin. You took your seat on the side of the table and placed the dossier with plans right in front. That way, you could have an easy escape should it be needed. These days you could never know for sure. The first surprise of the meeting took place when you heard a scrape of the chair on your side, followed by someone sitting down. One look was needed to ascertain that it was the blonde bastard. Fab. You refused to give him any satisfaction of being caught staring and so you focused on the documents, reading the same set of instructions for the hundredth time.

“Do you want coffee?” his question took you by surprise.

Looking up into his blue eyes always felt too startling. Especially considering your history. But that did not seem to matter whenever your gazes met. That same jolt of electricity heightening your senses. Until you would look away again, Neil was everything you could focus on. On the periphery of your attention, you could see Wheeler prepare cups of the beverage in the small kitchenette. Right…

“Yes, please,” perplexed by his helpfulness, you gave him the tiniest of smiles.

In response, Neil only nodded and got up, joining Wheeler at the counter. That was surprising. Somehow you assumed that he would do everything not to interact with you like that. And yet he was willing to get you coffee, knowing full well how dependent on it you were. When Neil sat down again five minutes later and handed you the mug, you muttered:

“Thanks” your hands brushed for a millisecond, causing a minor heart palpitation.

Nothing new. He met your gaze again, smiling lightly. It was in the moments like this that you felt completely at a loss for words. The tenderness and attention felt like the old days, as though nothing happened. But it did. And it made no sense.

“Hope I got it right” breaking the silence, Neil gestured towards the coffee steaming underneath your nose.

He used to know your coffee order well. Unable to deny yourself the curiosity, you took a sip of the beverage under his watchful gaze. Of course, it was perfect, a spark igniting your body with energy. Ignoring the idiocy of the situation, you grinned at Neil over the brim of the mug. Conveying gratitude more than any words could. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, he understood.

“Attention, please,” Ives’s annoyed voice brought you back to reality “You’ll flirt later,” you blushed furiously at the comment.

Shooting daggers at the squad leader, you focused all of the attention on the dossier again. Yeah…no.

The next hour was spent trying to make sense of the plans you all had been weaving since the intel came. The obvious parts were the facts: a deserted city in the middle of the Siberian steppe, the dead-drop in the cavern underneath the ridge, three ways in, and a lock, that was the crux of it all. The instructions from TP were ominous enough: no guaranteed way out for whoever would open the door. And that fact was the needed spark that day…

“So, temporal pincer” Ives summarized the last few minutes of the discussion, writing the words on the whiteboard “One team normal, the other inverted and they deal with the mercs. A splinter unit goes into the dead-drop and extracts the algorithm before the timer goes off” he added.

That was the obvious bit. You finished the coffee in one swig, feeling Neil’s knee bump into yours under the table. It was like this for the past hour. Sudden touches, making you wonder whether it was all intentional. Another form of elaborate torture. Or whether it was just Neil unable to control his long limbs as per usual.

“Kat is the backstop?” you asked the question, distracting yourself from the mess in your head.

“Yep,” jotting down the note, listening in to the squad leader, “That’s the simple stuff. What we need to figure out is how do we deal with that lock, and what about the splinter unit”

Fun. You skipped through the information again, hoping to find any source of inspiration in the materials.

“What do you mean?” TP asked, and you glanced up at him.

With the arms folded on the table and face frozen in a permanent frown, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“They shouldn’t leave the field” Ives shrugged upon an inquisitive glare from the boss “It’s safer that way” the cold steel look in his eyes was foreign.

It was a terrifying realization that he was right. If you were to succeed, you had to make sure that it could not happen again. At least not in the linear sense. Looking around the people sat at the table, your heart sank. It could as well be that you were not coming out of this alive. Not all of you. TP had to survive if the story was to follow as it should. But for the rest of you, nothing was guaranteed. Enough to make the anxiety worse.

“Right,” TP’s sombre nod made you focus back on the moment “I don’t think we need to decide on who that will be this early,” he added, his gaze slipping over all of your faces.

Looking at the companions, you could see that everyone else was deep in thought. Mortality was never something you paid much attention to, preferring to stay sane by taking every day as it is and then moving onto the next. When you finished the university and started getting used to the idea that your future will be spent behind the desk of one of the governmental buildings in Whitehall, you stopped giving it much thought. Death would come when it had to, and that was it. But apparently not. Perks of choosing an unusual occupation. Feeling the stress levels elevate, you got hold of the passing thought. The damned lock that has been at the forefront of your mind since the news first came. Maybe now was time to voice the vague plans…

“When it comes to the lock… I’ve been thinking-”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” Neil’s interruption made you look up at him sharply.

What? You did not like the enigmatic smile gracing his features. As though you have missed something glaringly self-evident, and he was waiting for you to catch up. Impatiently, at that.

“Neil… elaborate please,” TP’s plea was dripping with tiredness.

Relatable.

“I’m the best locksmith out there” he shrugged smugly, ignoring your stare.

You did not like where this was going. Before you could find any words of response, Ives’s dry chuckle pierced the silence.

“Smooth, mate,” he added when Neil turned to stare at him.

“It should be me,” the blonde man pressed, annoyance seeping into his words, “Ives, you know that. Stop looking at me like that” he waved his hand at the squad leader.

The pieces clicked in your head. Fuck. He sounded too sure. As though he has already made up his mind. But…

“The person who opens the lock doesn’t have a guaranteed way out” Wheeler looked weary, as though she was scared about the direction of the conversation.

Exactly. The heart was hammering in your chest, slowly absorbing the reality. Figuring out the implications. No. You could not allow that. Even the mere idea was enough to make you nauseous. It was one thing to wish you did not have to deal with Neil, the other to consider that he would volunteer for something like that.

“So?” the nonchalance in his voice was terrifying.

He was still refusing to meet your gaze, but you persistently kept your eyes fixed on him. Urging him to give in. To be able to check this was actually happening. Because once Neil would lock his eyes with yours, you had a chance of getting to him. Until he said it to your face, you did not want to believe it.

“That could be a one-way trip,” TP voiced your thoughts, eyeing Neil warily.

You could see that he was surprised and concerned. Ever since they were stuck in the container for a week, a comradery has formed. Finally resembling what you were used to from them. But now Neil was willing to destroy it all. One-way trip. The ultimate sacrifice. No.

“Evidently,” another shrug.

That was the needed signal for your brain to kick back into action. To fight. Point out the insanity of the situation.

“Surely there’s a different way of dealing with this. We could send the locksmith before the splinter unit and-” your rant got interrupted with a sudden creak of chair to your right. Impatience.

“Why complicate something simple? I go in and open the door. That’s it” Neil flayed his hands around as though compensating for the tension permeating the room.

Wishing to dissolve it by fake excitement. Not on your watch. Urging your body to stop trembling, you garnered the strength to voice the obvious question. The one everyone seemed to skirt around for the past ten minutes.

“You don’t want to come back?” your voice wavered, betraying the nerves.

That was exactly what Neil needed to finally look you in the eye. With reluctance, he turned to you. When your gazes met, he flinched. Barely perceptible and yet there. Great.

“This isn’t about what I want or don’t want” you could tell Neil was just about keeping himself cool.

This could go either way. You found yourself on the tipping point, tiptoeing the edge. The fall never seemed so inviting. Almost as good as letting yourself drown in his eyes. Anything to ignore the reality.

“As if you knew what you want,” you muttered, aware he will catch on to the implications.

Neil clenched his jaw as his hand gripping the mug tightened. You have hit the mark. Top job. It took him a moment to respond. You could feel the gazes of everyone else fixed on you two. Their breaths were held as though afraid anything could set off the explosion. They were probably right.

“…Maybe you haven’t gotten the memo yet, but this isn’t about us anymore. If the task requires sacrifice, then be it” Neil finished the sentence with a hard look in his eyes.

Us? The emphasis he placed on the word made you blink in shock. On its own accord, your mind drifted back to the conversation in Tallinn. We’re just us. Me and you, was what he said back then. Only now, it was not that simple. Ignoring the ache in your heart, you swallowed hard, trying to find any traces of reason.

“But-” it was not meant to be.

Before you could add another word, Neil took hold of your hand, making you shut up. Shocked, you met his eyes, only to be paralyzed by the harshness of his expression. Your protests were not welcome. He has made up his mind.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern. However-” his tone was dripping with condescension.

The nickname felt like a slap. You tugged at the hand he still had in his grasp, cutting in sharply:

“How very patronizing of you” giving him the fakest of smiles, you added, “I had the illusion that you’re better than this… but well, as with most things I was wrong” a shrug to complete the insult “I still think there must be a way around it. There’s a reason why we got this warning” ending the torture of prolonged eye contact, you glanced around the table.

A silent cry for help. TP met your gaze, rapidly catching on to the desperation pouring out of your eyes. If anyone should get it, it’s him.

“Okay, hold on. Let’s suppose we do it as you say-” the boss interjected, putting all of the charisma into the sentence.

For nothing.

“Maybe the reason was that you need time to get used to the idea. Clearly, you’re the only one who opposes it this strongly” Neil was still looking at you only.

Cold blue eyes and lips twisted into a cruel smirk. That was the same man that fought with you on the highway in Tallinn. Terrible beauty. And yet, you could not look away, drawn by the gravitational pull that kept you tied to his side.

“What are you trying to say?” your voice sounded small.

The confidence was gone. The gloves were off. That was it. The explosion everyone feared. Judging by the way Neil leaned in closer, it was all part of the plan. Calculated and measured for the greatest impact. His knee bumped into your thigh. You froze as his nose brushed over your ear. Too close.

“That you lied to me a few days back. That you still l-” blood froze in your veins as you took in the meaning.

Before he could say the word, you hissed and lurched back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the curse ripped apart the tense silence.

The pain was unimaginable. You felt close to screaming. Helpless. Alone. Desperate. In love. All for nothing.

“As I said, sometimes feelings need to be put aside. Whatever they might be,” you heard his voice as though from afar.

Enough. Releasing a long exhale, you closed the folder and stood up. That was enough. He did not deserve the sight of your tears.

“Now, let’s assume I go, open the door for the splinter unit, and… What are you doing?” Neil noticed your movement a second too late.

The confusion on his face was almost laughable. Pity.

“What does it look like?” you scoffed, pushing the chair back onto its place “I’ve had enough of this sacrificial bullshit and personal insults” addressing the room at large, you added, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the range”

You noticed Wheeler’s sympathetic nod breaking in through the concern on her face. Ives looked pissed off, and you could not blame him for it. You have made quite the show. Again. TP just glanced at you, utterly perplexed. There was no logical explanation for any of this.

“You can’t just-” attempting protest, Neil took hold of your hand again.

You knew the purpose behind that. If everything else failed, he was well aware that touch was your weakest point. That previously it always worked. Not anymore. You met his eyes, encountering nothing but annoyance and frustration.

“Neil” Wheeler’s warning was a welcomed addition “Let her go,”

That was all he needed. Letting go of your hand, he gave you a final look. Something shifted for a split second. But you found that you did not care. Without a second thought, you bolted out of the room. The very last thing you heard felt like the final blow:

“She’s being ridiculous,” Neil muttered dejectedly.

She. Just that. With shaking hands, you closed the zip lock.

“And you’re stupid. Sit the fuck down,” Ives’s command rung out in the air behind your back.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you ran down the corridor. Fuck.

*** That day you have successfully managed to hide from everyone. Wheeler came to check up on you in the evening to, as she put it, make sure you have not taken the shooting practice a little too seriously. You could only offer her your tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes as you assured her that this would be the worst state she was likely to see you in. Was that a lie? Maybe. To put it bluntly, after the morning nightmare of a confab, death sounded like an interesting option. Certainly better than another week of Neil offering to get himself killed just because. You chose 2 am that night to finally emerge from the cabin in the search of food. Without bothering to touch up your bedraggled appearance, you tiptoed down the corridor, taking one extra look at the door of Neil’s room. Why? Fuck knows. The silence was encouraging. However, that confidence was to be your ultimate downfall.

The moment you dealt with the airlock leading to the galley, you knew that you were not alone. Neil was there, chatting to one of the squad members you vaguely remembered from the days spent in inversion. Dominic, or something. Briefly, you considered turning back around and leaving as though you were never even there. But when the men turned, and your eyes met, it was too late. Luck was never on your side.

“Hi,” you gave them both a nod and opened the fridge before either could take a longer look at you.

“Evening” Neil cleared his throat awkwardly.

After a pause, the men picked up their conversation in hushed tones while finishing sandwiches. Mindlessly you stared at the contains of the fridge, hoping to appear occupied. To be forgotten. But to no avail. You could feel someone’s gaze burning into the side of your head. Somehow you knew that if you dared look up, the blue eyes would be there. Ready to analyze you. To find weaknesses and strike when appropriate. You could only hope he would not do it with Dominic present.

Fridge held no answers. You closed it quietly and took hold of the granola bar from the cupboard. Only tea left now… easy. They were still talking. From what you could hear, it had something to do with the inverted weaponry and the training you were all forced to recap before Stalsk. You thanked the gods for the presence of the buffer, as you not so patiently waited for the water to boil. The false sense of security shattered seconds later:

“Thanks, mate. See you in the morning, yeah?” Dominic rinsed the plate quickly and started to put on the mask.

What is worse, Neil was not doing the same. Instead, he was still sitting at the table, smiling at the colleague.

“Yep. Can’t wait,” the fake enthusiasm radiating from him in waves.

But it seemed like only you could see it. Another observation for nothing. Your pulse quickened as you realised that it was only a matter of seconds till you were alone again. And the fucking water was still boiling.

“Goodnight, Y/N” Dominic smiled at you before moving to open the airlock.

“Night night,” your response came out too breathlessly.

Crap. Just like that, he was gone. It was you and Neil, staring at each other like two animals locked up in a cage. He quickly assessed your appearance, taking in the puffed-up eyes, tangled hair, and shaking hands. You wanted to ask him whether he was satisfied with his work. But that would mean admitting how much it hurt. And your pride was in the way. The kettle switched off. Neil’s taxing gaze stopped as his eyes widened.

“Is that-” that is when you realised.

Fuck. When leaving the cabin, you have not changed. That meant you were still wearing the only article of clothing that brought some comfort. Neil’s burgundy sweater. And he most certainly recognized it.

“Neil I-” his name was the only answer as you struggled for words.

Neil stood up and pounced, closing the distance. The malicious look in his eyes was terrifying. And inspiring.

“Why do you have my sweater?” to emphasize the point, he took hold of the material, drawing you near in progress, “I didn’t take you for a thief,” delivered with a cruel smirk.

With Neil that close and acting ridiculously, you realised that above all, you were tired. And had enough of this. Of him.

“I used the opportunity and went into your apartment,” a tight-lipped smile thrown in before he could interject, “Yes, I know, don’t worry, I haven’t stolen anything else,” you added, enjoying the surprise flashing in his eyes.

He forgot about the keys. Or did not think you would use them after everything. And now, when he realised how much you knew, it was hard to accept. That was encouraging. You waited for Neil to bite back, letting yourself stare at him without shame. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes lit up. There we go…

“You know that you’re not making any sense?” he blurted out the question and tugged at the sweater “You just- You’re telling me that it’s all over and yet here you are, wearing my clothes” another tug, bringing you just as close as the last time “I mean that’s one way of confusing me further” he finished on a whisper.

It took you a moment to recover. To realise that once again, you were too close. When that clicked, you took a step back and met Neil’s gaze. Too satisfied. His pupils were darker than usual, and that was worryingly enticing. Focus. Anger was the answer.

“Confusing you?” a sudden idea struck, “Fucking hell, you know what?” another step back, “Just take it, and let’s end this discussion” you started taking the garment over your head.

“What- Why are you...” much to Neil’s shock.

Good. The cold air hit your body as you took off the sweater and threw it in his face. You were eternally grateful to your morning self for putting on that tank top. Not much, but still preventing you from the walk back in only the bra. As Neil scrambled to pick up the garment that fell onto the floor, you added:

“I’ll give you back the keys tomorrow” you met his wide-eyed stare with pleasure, “There’s no need to stare. You’ve seen it before,”

Yet, the way his gaze roamed over your body was fascinating. There was nothing to see there, but still, he seemed transfixed. You took that as your chance to strike.

“Hell, you’ve even had your hand down my pants. Twice” Neil flinched, and you smirked, “Talking about wrong life choices and all that” it was nice to see him hurt.

For once. Even if it was another lie. He looked lost, unable to find a response to something like that.

“I-” a pathetic attempt at god knows what.

You took a final glance at him there. Clutching the cashmere sweater in his hand. Hair falling into his eyes. Shoulder sagged. Defeated. Confused. Finally.

“Goodbye,” you grabbed the mug and left before Neil had a chance of recovery.

The walk back to the room was cold. But probably worth the pain.

*** Sighing with happiness for the first time that day, you closed the door to the cabin and collapsed onto the bed. For the past three hours, you have been occupied with training that Ives made mandatory for all the mission participants, and you were exhausted. The only encouragement was the fact that the squad leader made sure your shift was different from that of Neil. What was even better, he did that without you needing to ask first. Just like that. And you were very grateful. Moments like those last two encounters in the kitchen were best avoided at all costs. Any contact was ideally off the books. Even when it hurt.  

With the sweater gone, you had no more things to hold on to. Well, apart from all those memories and the ability to read him like an open book. Utterly useless skills like algebra or functions at this point. You have changed into the comfiest set of sweatpants and a hoodie, hoping to spend the next few hours marinating in your misery. But long before you could even think of the first reason to cry, a knock made you jump up. Who the hell…. Grudgingly, you got up and opened the door.

“Hey…” you did not expect him.

Despite everything, your heart was naive enough to stumble upon the sight of Neil. And his stupid hair. And the repentant look in his eyes. What even.

“What do you want?” you decided to cut the bullshit, meeting his gaze coldly.

The visit was certainly unexpected. As was the fact that he seemed apologetic. Meek, even. Neil shifted nervously before answering:

“Here’s the sweater. You can keep it” he handed you the garment with a tiny smile, “It smells more like you than me now, but…” trailing off, he shrugged.

The implications of that statement were too much to handle. As was the fact that he gave you back the sweater. You gaped at him, speechless. It made no sense. But the silence stretched too long, and Neil looked even more uncomfortable.

“Okay…” you accepted the gift, making sure your hands have not brushed.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted yesterday it wasn’t reasonable,” he added, with that contrite tone you were not used to.

Unreasonable? That was one way of describing what happened the previous night. You did not know whether it was the glaring lack of confidence radiating from him or as something as simple as the fact that you missed him. But you could feel the resolve crumble.

“I’d say nothing you do is reasonable… thanks though” mustering a weak smile, you stepped away from the door, “You can come in if you want,”

Risky. And something Neil did not expect either, judging by the way he hesitated before entering the cabin and closing the door. You sat down on the edge of the bed and observed his awkward movement. A look around the small space. His eyes slipping over the few personal items you had. The sparring gear you have carelessly thrown onto the floor. And the bin full of used tissues. How humiliating. Then he perched on the chair and met your gaze wearily. Without you even needing to ask the question, he answered:

“I guess it surprised me to see that you’re using something of mine after everything” the honesty was strangely comforting.

For the first time since the disastrous mission in Tallinn, you could tell that he was genuine. Open for you to read and interpret however you fancy. That was intriguing. Enjoying the way his eyes roamed over your features, you leaned back on the bed. Relaxed. Sincere. You could try that.

“It surprises me too,” shrugging, you pursed your lips, staring thoughtfully at the window.

You did not have to look at him to imagine the expression on his face. A little concerned, extremely curious.

“How do you mean?” the soft tone made you glance back.

Sure enough, the furrowed eyebrows and sparkling eyes were there. Neil crossed his legs, studying you intently. You could tell that he wanted to know. That this was probably the closest you would ever come to a normal conversation with him. Might as well use it.

“Well, the heart knows best,” offering him a sad smile, you laced your hands in your lap.

Here’s to hoping he won’t turn it on you. But when you dared look up at Neil again, you were surprised to see him stunned by what you revealed. After a beat, he found the words:

“I thought you don’t-”

Of course. Unable to stop the irritation gnawing at your heart, you scoffed, preventing him from saying something so wrong.

“I never said that,” you explained upon his wide-eyed stare, “But that’s beyond the point, isn’t it?” you sighed, hoping to make him drop the topic before it would drift somewhere dangerous “Why are you here?”

You took a longer look at him then. Taking in the denial painted on his face. He wanted to press on, to get you to explain things. Not today. Then, returning your taxing gaze, Neil offered you his wistful smile.  

“I suppose I’ve missed you” the sincerity of the statement was terrifying.

You felt a painful pang in your chest, as though the heart itself was awaiting the tragic end to this conversation. Courage. For a second, you wanted to cross that meter of space. To… Yeah, what exactly? One memory of what he said in the kitchen a few nights back was enough to sober up. You had to be careful.

“...right” the next words were a result of annoyance, pure and simple “Are you sure there isn’t anyone better? Because I bet there are at least five people aboard this ship who would give you everything. Without questions asked. Maybe you should talk to them” once you were done with the rant, you faced Neil again.

He was gaping, speechless. It seemed like his sharp wit was missing. That was only good news for you. A myriad of feelings passed in his eyes. You could discern shock, offense, heartbreak, and most surprisingly, something darker. Contradicting the very next thing he said:

“If I was looking for that, I’d never come to you. Because I value you more. But I don’t expect you to believe me” the defeat in Neil’s eyes was confusing.

But not any less than you were at that moment. More than what? A cheap fuck? One could hope so. But at the same time, considering the multitude of instances when he seemed desperate to get too close, it felt like a lie.

“I don’t, so you got something right,” you admitted, hoping to keep the emotions in check.

His blue eyes were fixed on you with intensity, trying to read all that you were not saying. After a minute of excessive staring, you were the first one to give up. The last thing you saw was a smirk forming on Neil’s lips. As though he knew that you were close to breaking. Close to potentially doing something stupid. Jumping up, you paced to the window. Nothing but sea and sky. And the damned birds. But even that was better than being faced with what you have lost. After a few days on board the icebreaker, you got used to the casual outfits he sported. What was worse is that they did nothing to make this any easier. It only proved the theory that Neil looked good in anything. Well, fuck him. Only not literally.

With the silence stretching well past the point of awkwardness, you grasped onto the first passing thought, turning to Neil again:

“You’ve talked about… me with TP, haven’t you?” it was a strange change of topic, but also something that has been on your mind for a while “Because suddenly he seems to trust me and I’m not sure what the fuck happened” throwing in the expletive, you sat down on the floor with your back against the wall.

Neil eyed you curiously. He was strangely quiet, and you wondered why that could be. Whether it meant that for once, he did not know what to say. Or maybe because he already regretted coming to see you. Yeah, probably that second option.

“Yes, I’ve explained a few things on the way to Oslo” the diplomatic tone was mildly annoying.

He leaned back in the chair, making sure to face you in the new dynamic. Only the nervous foot-tapping was a sign that he did not like the direction of the conversation. Interesting.

“Such as?” pressing on, you took a moment to observe him.

These days he gave up on styling the hair as the wind outside would always blow it in his eyes. That was rather adorable. He unzipped the pullover, shifting in the seat. Tension spilling out in weaves as Neil waved his hand dismissively.

“It doesn’t really matter,” another remorseful smile.

So, he must have said much more than just the basics. Could he have admitted to things even you were not allowed to know?

“Well, you must’ve said some crucial bits if he’s now so eager to take my side” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze purposefully.

Hoping he will catch on. Just like the matter of whatever it was between you, the battle plans were a clear no-go in this conversation. But that did not mean you could not hint at it. He had to understand that you were not going to give in so easily. That his suicidal mission was not getting a green light from you. The bait worked. Kind of.

“I said things that you and I should probably explain to each other one day” Neil’s grin did not reach his eyes.

Oh. He must have read the shock from your face, for his eyes glimmered dangerously as he relaxed on the chair. Your brain froze. Things? As in what? You both did and did not want to ask. Instead, you chose to attack.

“We won’t have time if you sacrifice yourself” simply put with a merciless stare.

Neil frowned, not expecting that kind of a dig. Before you could taste the satisfaction, his weary expression caught you off guard. Could that really hurt him? The cold of the wall was digging into your back.

“Let’s leave that for the meeting tomorrow,” a silent plea in the blue eyes “I don’t want to argue,”

He meant it. The tiredness etched onto his face told you as much. You were used to seeing the same kind of exhaustion every morning in the mirror. You could let him off.

“Okay…” a solemn nod before you got up and picked up the pacing again.

It was a strange feeling to be with him alone and yet not close. You realised that this was likely the first time since the early days when you were together somewhere private and were not even touching. It felt wrong.

“How did you like my place?” Neil’s question was like a much-needed grounding.

Swallowing down the discomfort, you turned back to him. The innocence was just a façade that he has put on for your sake. He expected an answer, and you did not know where to start. And then… the way his hair caught rays of sunlight was an inspiration.

“It was… enlightening,” you relished in the curiosity reflected at you, “For starters, I never realised that this is all fake” crossing the space in one leap, you ran your fingers through his hair.

Just like the old times. Only then, Neil would not shudder upon the initial contact. It took him a longer moment to recover. You smirked seeing his stunned face and resumed the movement, separating the strands slowly. You had no clue why this was the fact you latched onto. Blonde or not, he was a sight. But the idea that he dyed his hair would not leave your mind like the worst of brain worms.

“Ah, you’ve seen the photos” when he finally found the words again, his voice was hoarse.

As though whatever you were doing had some sort of an effect. A spark of confidence. You tugged at a strand sharply, the gasp making you bite your lip hard. A dangerous game. The words you have been biting back begun to spill from your mouth:

“It fascinates me because you act oh so confident all the time, and yet you’re pretending you’re someone you’re not” glancing down, you noticed the closed eyes and pursed lips.

It was definitely working. Whatever you even wanted to achieve. It was nice to hold power for once. To call him out on the bullshit you had to deal with every day.

“That’s just hair,” Neil protested weakly, grabbing onto your free hand and encircling the wrist.

Unable to stop the emotions bubbling under the surface, you scoffed:

“It really isn’t. I mean, why? It’s not like you have to scrape for attention” his eyes met yours with defiance, “Unless you’re compensating for something. In which case, that’s just ridiculous” the hit came with a visible flinch from Neil “And ever so manly” you perfected the punchline with a final tug on his golden strands.

That turned out to be a step too far. Before you could sense a change in the mood, Neil used the hold over your hand to bring you down. More accurately, to make you sit in his lap. Your brain caught up too late. Suddenly he was too close, with hands settling on your hips, securing you in place. Fuck. You opened your eyes, cursing the moment of weakness. Neil was staring right back, his eyes unreadable and dark. You messed up.

“What are you doing?” too breathless.

He caught onto that, rubbing circles onto your thigh, focused on you. It would be easy to get up and throw him out, ending this madness. But you found that you did not want to.

“I’m not sure. Say a word, and I’ll leave. But...” he trailed off, searching your eyes for something.

A protest, most likely. A clear-cut rejection. When he found nothing, he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. So close. Slowly your willpower was waning. You placed your palm over his heart to feel the warmth.

“Neil, why...” unable to find the words, you stared at him with questions multiplying in your head.

What was this? Was it why he came? And why, despite the hurt he inflicted, you could not tell him to stop?

“Because you’re here. It’s all I need to start feeling like...” another open-ended response.

Adding on to the confusion. His heart was beating fast, breaths coming out shallow. With fingers still tangled in his hair, you urged him to keep eye contact. That was the only chance of telling whether he was honest.

“Like what? Like you could want me?” the words were hard to say out loud.

For a moment, you felt like this was Tallinn all over again. Like you were losing sanity just for the sake of getting something from him. The ever-present yearning getting the best of you. The only difference was that this time Neil was the desperate one. His hands roamed over your hips and thighs, causing worrying jolts of electricity. It shouldn’t be that easy.

“You know that I do,” a whisper, eyes overfilled with determination.

Did you? Now – maybe. Any other day – hell knows.

“Maybe once I did. But recently... I don’t think you know what you want. You’re just...” you offered him the honesty, absentmindedly running your fingertips over his temple.

Exploring all that was familiar yet missed so much. The creases on his forehead deepened.

“What?” Neil leaned in once again, nuzzling the skin on your neck.

The shaky exhale felt like a defeat. It was increasingly hard to think, let alone give him coherent answers.

“You’re not making any sense” that had to do.

Only it was whispered breathlessly. Not convincing.

“Maybe this will make sense...”

Before you could contemplate the meaning of his words, Neil kissed your neck, drawing out a shudder. One of his hands wandered underneath the hoodie. His fingers ghosted the skin. You have not realised how much you’ve missed it until you got it. As he got braver in his ministrations, teeth grazing over your pulse point, hands stroking your bare back, you felt intoxicated. Unable to do anything but pull him closer and let your hands venture underneath his black t-shirt. It made no sense. But as soon as a reasonable thought would come up, Neil would do something to make you forget. It could be a kiss right under your ear or fingers getting too close to your sports bra. Christ. No logic, just Neil being the sole reason for insanity. The heat travelling up your veins was getting too evident to be ignored. As he gave you a particularly forceful mark by sucking on the skin in the crook of your neck, you could not hold back a moan. It pierced the silence accompanied only by your shallow breaths. Neil froze as though he was not expecting a reaction that strong. His breath causing goosebumps all along your neck. For a second, you wanted to pull him even closer, to give permission to take everything he desires. Even without a promise that it would mean something to him. He raised his head, meeting your wild gaze with the darkened pupils of his own. The proximity was suffocating. Unable to make sense of your thoughts, you leaned in, hoping to get lost in a kiss. To buy some time before you would have to make up your mind. That is when Neil did something unexpected – he pulled back, with a strangely remorseful look in his eyes. Fuck. Alarm bells started ringing out in your head, harshly reminding you about the reality of the situation. As though nothing happened, Neil’s hands went back to the meticulous caress of your upper body. But you could not ignore the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if this wouldn’t mean a thing? Suddenly it seemed like the worst mistake you could make. The previous frenzy was quickly replaced with dread. Not meant to be. You retracted your hands from underneath Neil’s shirt and pushed him back. It took all the strength available to deliver the next sentence with necessary firmness:

“I think you should leave,” you hoped to hide the pain behind the schooled features.

If he was surprised, he was very good at pretending. His eyes searched yours for a beat, and then he let go of you. His touch was already missed.

“If that’s what you want,” Neil’s voice revealed remains of passion as he nonchalantly smoothed the hair you have tangled.

That was the cue to get up. With cheeks burning, you turned away from him, doing your best to cool off and keep the scraps of dignity you had still left. Before you could risk a dangerous spiral, Neil’s voice brought you back to the moment:

“Too close, wasn’t it?” you frowned at the casual tone.

He was zipping up the pullover, staring at you with startling composure. As though the past minutes have not happened. As though he has not marked you as his for the umpteenth time. It was terrifying.

“What?” you gaped, trying to collect the thoughts and keep calm.

“We got too close. And you’re worried because for a moment you wanted more than you should” Neil shrugged upon your quiet gasp.

He could read you too well.

“Don’t do that,” a pathetic attempt at a plea.

But it must have worked for his expression softened. A small smile split his face as Neil pressed the door handle:

“Just thought you should know that I don’t mind. I don’t have much left to lose,” a parting remark, and then he was gone.

You covered your face with your hands, falling onto the knees when the remains of strength gave out. What a fucking mess.

*** What you did not expect to be the hardest feat of all before the meeting the next morning was making sure that all the bruises were covered up. You did not need to add questions and human curiosity to the list of your problems. After all, it would have been obvious to anyone with a brain. You fucked up, and Neil was the reason why and how that happened. As usual. That was best avoided since everyone on your war council knew enough already when it came to your relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

As you walked in, everyone else was already on the bridge, spreading the materials and preparing the whiteboard. Wheeler gave you a welcoming smile which at that moment was worth more than it should. Any expression of kindness was at a premium. You sat down, and before you could process much of what was going on, a mug of coffee appeared before your eyes. Just so. A second later, Neil took the seat next to you without acknowledging your existence. Cool. Perplexed, you looked around the room, locking eyes with TP. He shrugged as though exactly aware of your issues yet unable to help. That much was enough to make you feel a tiny bit better. After a beat, the boss spoke up:

“Before we begin… Y/N?” his question interrupted the first experimental sip of the coffee.

Perfect. Again.

“Yes?” you ignored the annoying spike of anxiety upon being the centre of attention.

“Is Mahir going back to meet Kat in Vietnam on the 14th?”

Ah, that. The little side quest that you have been given ages ago with close to no information towards its purpose. Thankfully, Mahir cooperated. No questions were asked as you arranged for him to invert in London and travel to Vietnam to be Kat’s aide. That kind of smooth operation was a welcomed change.

“Yep, as ordered,” you offered the dark-eyed man a small smile, “Turns out I am capable of not fucking up some things…” that addition was a product of spite.

It was rewarding to see Ives and Wheeler crack a grin at your comment. It made you feel less alienated, as though it was only the man on your right that had issues. And he might as well be ignored. Neil was being helpful in his silence too, moodily staring at the papers in front, refusing to lay his eyes on you. It was painful, especially considering the previous day, but it also meant you felt more at ease.

“It would be great if we could agree upon a few things finally,” TP interrupted the silence, looking at you all expectantly.

“Can’t promise you that, chief” you shrugged, aware of the way Neil shifted in his seat.

His knee bumped into your leg, starting the irritating dance you thought you had moved past. But, supposedly, laying his hands all over your body yesterday was not enough for him.

“I know. But let’s try” you focused all the attention back on the boss “Splinter unit,” the phrase fell between you all like a death sentence “Who and how?”

“The tunnel” you picked up the map and showed it to him, “That’s what the intel said” taking the sip of coffee, you added, “As towards who…”

One of the sleepless nights has been spent wondering whether you should not volunteer for that. The logic was that there was a reason why TP chose you as his link with everyone else. It meant his future version trusted you enough. But it also meant you were important. In those hopeless moments, it felt like maybe that was the purpose. And if it would mean no coming back? So be it. Death for the means of saving the world did not sound half that bad. Before you could express the thoughts, TP spoke up again:

“It should be me” his voice was emotionless.

“Why-” Neil’s voice rang out in the room.

You glanced at him, noticing the tension and worry radiating from him. It was a strange situation; everyone could see that. You all knew that TP had to survive. After all, how could you be at this point if he did not? He had to set up Tenet, hire Neil, Ives and everyone else, prepare the ground for the operation to unfold just like this. But then, considering everything you have been told about temporal paradoxes… could it be that simple? Or was Neil wrong, and what’s happened could also unhappen, so to speak? Too much. Your head began to pound.

“I’m the protagonist of this whole operation. The reason why you’re all here” that was convincing.

And in any other situation, you would have laughed at the prophetic overtone of the statement. But now other emotions were more prominent…

“Mmmm, I’m here because of him,” you retorted, pointedly staring at Neil, 

“Only, he doesn’t care” that is when the man turned to look at you for the first time that morning.

Irritated. Fed up with your bullshit. Lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes glimmering dangerously. Nothing new.

“What are you-” the sharp edge to his voice was satisfying.

Any kind of reaction meant you succeeded at pissing him off. Somehow back then, it was the best thing that could happen.

“Just being salty. Don’t mind me” you shrugged, making sure to pat his shoulder quickly.

Another tiny stab. Neil’s eyes flicked to your hand in a flash and then back to meet your eyes. You could only give him a deliberate smirk.

“Anyways… The splinter unit will be two people” Ives brought back the topic with palpable annoyance, “I’ve got an obvious choice on my mind, but I’ll discuss that later with some of you” the definitive tone would have made anyone shut up.

Not you though. Not when there was nothing to lose, and you decided that you might as well have fun with this mess.

“Why so mysterious, huh?” another quip, all to make Ives look up at you with surprise.

He rolled his eyes, showing you exactly what he thought of your new approach to things.

“We’ve got a more pressing topic to deal with” nothing to play with there.

What a shame. Mouthing an apology at the squad leader, you could feel the tension surge. The more trivial topics have been already mentioned and moved past. Now it was the time for big guns. For another clash of the titans. 

“Precisely,” Neil jumped at the chance and spoke “The elephant in the room is rather obvious” his eyes scanned the space with a predatory gleam, settling on you, “I mean, look at her… she’s barely staying quiet,” a mocking smirk to compliment the statement.

Presumptuous fuck. Despite the anger reaching a boiling point in your veins, you refused to give him the satisfaction. To show how much it hurt.

“Her?” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze defiantly “Neil, that’s a low blow. Even for you” a passing flinch on his face giving the power to keep going “But yes, I’d love to know whether you’ve changed your mind regarding some important matters” you addressed the room at large, searching for support.

That concerned look Wheeler shot you was helpful. As was the way TP hunched in the chair, burdened with terrifying possibilities of Neil’s stubbornness. Maybe you won’t have to be alone in this.

“I’m going in,” the blonde man shrugged nonchalantly, staring you down, “The only thing you can do is help us plan how to make it work,”

The strategy was to alienate you. Make it sound like you were the only one protesting against his idiotic plan. Well, not on your watch. Now was the time to put all those sleepless nights to use.

“How to make what work? Your suicide?” you scoffed, taking pleasure in how he frowned at the word, “If you let me speak for once, I’ve got an idea” finishing the lukewarm coffee, you gathered needed strength.

“Go ahead, sunshine,” a sarcastic half-smile, begging to be wiped off his face with a slap.

Maybe another time.

“What if two people went first to take care of the lock?” your voice cut through the tension permeating the room, “You rarely send anyone out without a cover. Because it’s unreasonable. So why this time it should be different?” that was logical.

The most sensible of plans you could come up with. Two on the splinter unit; two to deal with the lock. More likely to find an exit or, simply, survive whatever was waiting by the dead-drop. You also had ideas when it came to who should accompany Neil. But those were best kept a secret.

“Because losing two is worse than one. Even you can do the maths” the unnecessary dig made you roll your eyes.

He was ridiculous. In moments like this, you wished you had never fallen for him. But there was no point in crying over the spilt milk.

“Two have greater chances of survival,” you counterattacked, stating the obvious.

The truth he was so gladly ignoring for his purposes.

“You’ve got a point,” Wheeler chimed in, making you both turn to her.

“Thanks,” you offered the brightest grin you could muster and searched for more backing on the faces of the fellow companions.

Before you could analyse the grave expressions on TP and Ives’s faces, Neil spoke up again:

“You’re also rather emotional…” another insult.

Fuck. It was getting increasingly hard to stay calm. But that was the only thing to do. Another scene before the whole team was certainly not desired. You took a deep breath, fighting to maintain composure.

“Neil, stop” Ives was your saviour of the hour, interrupting with the non-bullshit attitude, “I think this idea is worth going over. It’s not like we’ve got anything better,”

You vowed to send Ives a bouquet of roses if you were still alive after all this. Or better, take him out to a pub. Nothing was settled upon during that meeting. The chaos of you all trying to convince Neil to listen to your arguments was only interrupted with him throwing more offences at you. Apart from emotional, you learned you were also delusional. And a potential loose cannon that was best kept away from making crucial decisions. You debated putting all of those on your CV and asking him to provide the references. After all, Neil was the expert when it came to your skillset. After half hour of barely held-together discussion, Ives told you all to calm down and fuck off for the time being. At least until you could decide on something without jumping to your throats. You doubted that was even possible. You were resolved to drive your plan forward. And so was Neil.

When the meeting was over, you were the first one to leave, hoping to slip out before anyone could stop you. You made it as far as the corridor leading to the bridge when you felt someone grab your arm, making you turn around. Of course. Neil’s steel-blue eyes were staring at you coldly. He was getting ready to attack, and you did not want to let him. Before either of you could break the silence, someone stopped in the corridor, and the familiar voice spoke:

“You two should fuck each other already,” you scowled at Ives’s choice of words, “Or break-up. I don’t care, only don’t do this again” he gave you a long taxing look, with annoyance brewing underneath.

You could not blame him. Only that kind of comment was too much right now. With cheeks burning, you desperately searched for words. Neil found them for you:

“We’re not together” dead simple with a tinge of anger to it.

You took a look at Neil, noticing the frown set on his face. And the fact that he was still holding on to you. Fingers wrapped around your bicep, just enough force to make it seem questionable.

“Could’ve fooled me” the squad leader shrugged and walked off before either of you could react.

Great start. Yanking your arm free, you asked:

“What do you want?” you made sure to make him hear the irritation.

That was against the plan, and you doubted your ability to survive yet another confrontation. From the look in his eyes, you could also guess where this was going.

“I know what you’re doing. All I’ve got to say is don’t,” Neil stared you down, keen on intimidation, “I won’t let it happen” no room for discussion there.

Well, maybe with any other idiot. You knew it would come to it. The moment when you would have to admit that your plan involved going with Neil. And there would be no debate about it. It had to be you. Reasons? Inexplicable.

“Tough luck because I’m not letting you get killed,” you counterattacked, meeting his intense gaze without reluctance, “Or go in there alone,” a pointed emphasis, to show him you meant it.

You felt like you could win this one. Maybe even walk away without the tears in your eyes. Just this once. But then Neil did what he does best – changed the topic.

“If this is about what happened-” he reached out to you again, fingers curling around your wrist.

There we go. You were surprised it took him that long to mention the previous afternoon. His touch and the bruises were hard to forget, but so was the lack of affection in his eyes. As though you were just another hook-up. Someone to seduce, get pleasure from, and then leave without a word of explanation. Nothing more. You deserved better than this. With heart hammering in your chest, you responded:

“Not everything is about you trying to fuck me, Neil,” it was his turn to scowl, as though the words have hurt him.

It was only fair.

“Who said-” his grip on your wrist tightened, drawing you closer.

But that alone was not enough to distract you from the denial he tried to pass as the truth.

“Please,” you gave him a pointed look, “That was a mistake, and it’s best treated like one” swallowing down the discomfort, you let the statement fall between you.

You wanted nothing but to forget about it. Brush it under the carpet. The marks were enough of a punishment for a moment of weakness. Neil seemed to consider something quickly, weighting the options, before he nodded:

“Of course,” the formality had the potential to drive you mad, “I’m glad we seem to agree on something,”

For a second, you contemplated leaving the scene. You knew he would not follow, too caught up in the grudges and apprehensions to stop you from escaping. But you wanted to have the last word. To put to use the ability to see right through his act. Neil was staring at you with eyes narrowed, trying to anticipate the very next move. You were sure to surprise him.

“Think I have figured it out though,” he arched his eyebrow in a silent question “Why you’re so keen on doing something that stupid” his face fell, you took a step forward “It’s that hero complex, hidden under honourable acts and philosophical bullshit” pulling your hand out of his hold, you advanced to intimidate, “You think you’re past redemption. That you don’t deserve it. But you can’t give up until you save everybody else. That’s just who you are” the sheer panic in his eyes was fascinating “Only there’s me. An obstruction” Neil swallowed hard as you laid your hand on his shoulder; nearly there, “And you might not love me, but it still doesn’t mean I can let you do it” you gave him a final sad smile, brushing away a stray hair from his pullover.

Yours, judging by the length and colour. A quirk of fate. You were too busy contemplating the fact to notice a shift in his eyes. Denial. Disbelief. Darkness.

“My god… you’re so stupid” the sharp edge to his voice was dripping with venom, “How can you not see it?” Neil was looking at you as though you were an idiot.

Wow. Fighting the urge to breakdown, you took a deep breath. You should have known he had not had enough of hurting you. Always naïve.

“… thanks,” you chuckled dryly, holding on to the remains of anger in your system, “First ‘emotional and delusional’. Now this… you’re expanding your vocabulary” his silence was deafening, “I wonder what will be next… expletives?” the next statement came from the depths of your heart “It would be much easier to just admit that you hate me, and we could be done with this”

That childlike belief in the existence of love wanted him to say no. To deny that he could ever despise you in any way. But the innocence had to be buried if you were to survive.

“I’ll consider that” the cold calculation in Neil’s eyes was terrifying. It was truly over. Even if your heart felt like it was being ripped out. The edges of your vision were blurring, eyes burning with tears begging to be released. Not yet.

“Fab,” you brushed away the strand that was falling into his eyes, “As a final note… I admit that the worst mistake I have ever made was allowing myself to believe you’re worth it”

It was not exactly the truth. But the tiniest moment of passing shock in his eyes was a good enough response. For a second, Neil was speechless, stunned by your harsh words and the way you caressed his face. One last guilty pleasure.

“I’m glad you’re acknowledging it” his face split in an attempt at a smile.

It was broken. Dishonest. There was something fascinating in him at that very moment. The set jaw, eyes cold as ice; yours, but not at all. The beautiful and damned. Gently, you ran your fingers over his stubble, hoping to memorise his face in every way possible. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to drive you insane, offering eternal suffering if you were to make the smallest mistake. Never again.

“The cruelty looks good on you” you zipped up his pullover in one smooth motion and turned away.

The searing pain in your chest was the needed punchline.

[egg-emperor]

I literally love watching you talk about eggman so what's your favorite headcanon for him? :)

Thank you so much! I always have so much fun talking about him here and I'm really happy that you like to see it! :'D

It's difficult to pick just one when I have an endless amount involving every aspect of himself and his life! It's easier to decide on a favorite theme, such as the way I enjoy making hcs about his personal life and what he gets up to behind the scenes. I really wish we got to see more in official media so I'm constantly coming up with ideas.

But I suppose I could take this opportunity to discuss one of my many favorites!

I love to imagine that Eggman is always delighted to talk about his interests. He's most enthusiastic about engaging in conversations about him and/or his interests lol. Tons of true love and enthusiasm show through the way he expresses his deepest passions, the most notable being robots and theme parks as his biggest interests. They go way back to when he was a child but he never got the chance to talk about them nearly as much as he'd like to.

His father never had the time, just like he never had much time for him in general. He at least got to do something he was interested in alongside him when he'd help out with his mechanic side work and learn from him as a teenager, but his father would say he needed to focus instead of talking. And he never had the time to listen to him talk about his favorite interests in robots and theme parks but Ivo knew it was because he didn't care. He could never find anyone else willing to listen either.

He's always been an attention seeker from the moment he discovered how admirable and important his grandfather was and wanted to be like him, so his father isn't solely to blame for why he demands all the attention, importance, and spotlight. But it certainly further influenced his already existing desire to get the attention he craves and also intensified his great urge to talk about his interests and accomplishments. So he jumps at every small chance he gets now, whether people actually ask or not.

With his 300 IQ, he can be a fast learner on any subject, even when it comes to things he doesn't really care for. But it seems there's a part of his brain that's seriously dedicated to storing all the knowledge of his favorite subjects and he goes out of his way to learn absolutely everything about them. His knowledge in robots and theme parks especially are endless and always growing, and he loves to talk about his very own creations on top of that. He never runs out of information to share!

This was also one of the things that initially made him interested in getting a teaching degree. It was more about showing off his knowledge, rather than caring trying to help others learn. Also because he loves telling people what to do, of course. XD

He enjoys sharing his knowledge and correcting people when they're wrong. He'll often butt into conversations about subjects he's interested in (well even ones that he isn't but especially when he is) to share thoughts and facts. Some find it rude but it's a case where he doesn't realize because he just wants the right information to be acknowledged and to correct misconceptions. He also likes to bring his related experiences and creations into the conversation so they know his sources, and because he wants to show off and make them jealous and impressed!

Some get annoyed while others find it impressive or even helpful. But the negative reactions don't matter to him because he's delighted when someone will listen to his endless rambling and let him boast, giving him full attention and no complaints. It's even better if they're enthusiastic, supportive, and praise him for his knowledge! If someone encourages him to keep going, he'll actually appreciate it but definitely won't know how to say it. Still, they can tell by the way he lights up and explains it with a big beautiful smile on his face that he can't hide!

Basically, I like to imagine that he's just as passionate when talking about his brilliance and the things he loves as I am when I'm talking about him! He still has that same child-like wonder when learning new information about the things he's interested in and excitement when he shares facts and stories and shows off his discoveries, creations, and accomplishments. They're the feelings he didn't really get to express freely as a child and it feels great to finally get to do something that he wanted all along.

I love men that are really passionate and unashamed to be, especially when it shows through the way they're extremely knowledgeable about their favorite subjects and eager to talk about it. One of the many things that make Eggman so attractive to me is how bold, passionate, and unapologetically himself he is! It's really admirable and inspiring too. And I'd be sure to let him know that and encourage him to express his love for his passions and support him in following his dreams related to them.

I could listen to all he has to say and observe all he has to show off for hours! Then I'd ask questions to give him the opportunity to talk and show off even more as he answers and elaborates even further. Once he gets going, he just can't stop talking until he wears himself out and needs a nap. XD I'm genuinely interested as we have fascinations in common and it's even better when I'm learning from him. There's no better, more handsome source of interesting and valuable information heheh!

But the best part is getting to see how happy he is as he lights up, jumps for joy, and shakes his fists in excitement. He shares his plans with great confidence and presents his creations with pride. The excitement can be heard in his voice and there's a bright wide smile on his gorgeous face all the while. I would watch with total adoration as it warms my heart! I wish he could feel that kind of happiness much more often. I'd always make sure he feels deeply loved, cared for, and listened to. :') 💜

While it is canon that he's a deeply passionate person as there's evidently a lot of hard work and care put into his plans/creations and determination put into his goals, this is how I headcanon him feeling about expressing it outside of what we see in the games.

I imagine that he'd love to passionately monologue to someone that isn't just programmed to care like his robots. He can ramble to Orbot and Cubot about his upcoming plans but they always talk back and he knows they're often judging, so it pleases him when he knows someone's interest is genuine.

And his urge to talk about what he's excited and proud of is probably part of why he often says too much and reveals important details of his plans to his enemies! It might happen less often if he has someone to lend an ear, so he can tell them all about it beforehand. I'd love to be the one there for him! :D 💜💕💘💖💗💜💓💗

[cheonjeolmi]

Obsessions

Request Status: Open !

Pairing: Hange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1085

Warning: reader has a hand kink, light choking

You and Hange were in the library studying as exam season was soon to come, and so you decided to go and study with Hange, since they were quite intelligent and they were also your girlfriend plus study dates were just really cute.

You and Hange had your noses in your textbooks and copied notes onto your notebook, but as you looked up to take a peek at Hange, you smiled seeing the way their brows furrowed in concentration which was something you thought was cute.

Though as time passed by, you found yourself getting distracted, I mean who would rather look at a book than this wonderful species in front of you that is Hange Zoe? 

Exactly. No one.

You got lost in the way their hair was tied up in their usual messy ponytail, their light brown eyes reading through their textbook, their soft lips that you desperately wanted to kiss, and finally moving over to your more concerning obsessions of them.

Their hands. Oh god, their hands were truly something else to you as you silently looked at their hands, seeing their prominent veins as they gripped their pen writing on their notebook.

You’d never tell Hange you had a thing for their hands because if you did, you really thought you would’ve withered then and there if they ever found out. So, you made it a mission to never allow them to find out because if they did, you truly wouldn’t know what you’d do or how you’d react. But no matter how many times you tried peeling your gaze away from their hands, your eyes would unconsciously move back to gaze at them as you gulped quietly when you began to imagine all the things they could do with them.

‘Choke me- wait what?? No Y/N, you’re in a library at school-! Now’s not-‘ your thoughts had been cut off as you heard someone calling your name.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Do you want to take a break” Hange asked as they waved their hand near your face, trying to break your unfocused gaze.

You quickly fixed your posture and straightened up but your face heated up slightly as you were focused on their waving hand. Oh god-

“Y/N? Hellooo? What are you-?” Hange continued to wave their hand but stopped as they saw your focus hadn’t been directed to them. Hange slightly tilted their head in confusion wondering what had your unbreakable focus, their light brown eyes followed your line of focus as it trailed to their hand they used to break your haze.

Hange smirked once they were able to immediately connect the dots. Their girlfriend, Y/N L/N, had a thing for their hands.

“Huh, I never pegged you to have a hand fetish..well, color me surprised” Hange said as that made you look them in the eyes, face pale in horror as your face became much more heated due to embarrassment.

“I- I don’t have a hand fetish-!“ you hissed in defense, though the look on Hange’s face told you they didn’t believe your lie, if anything you wouldn’t even believe your own lie, judging from your flushed face among other things.

“Funny that you think you can lie to me, but well if you say so,” Hange said, now heavily interested in this new discovery of theirs.

‘Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you’ they thought, smirking to themselves as they planned to make you flustered.

“It’s so hot,” Hange mentioned gazing at you as they rolled up their sleeves to their elbow, internally smirking when you tried to discreetly take a look before burying your face into your textbook, trying to focus on your studies rather than their hands.

“Hm?” Hange raised their brow, their interest growing as they stood up and went around to your side of the table, placing a hand on your shoulder as they leaned in closer from behind you, your breath hitched in your throat.

“Do you need help in anything? Need me to explain something?” Hange asked in feigned innocence, grinning as they noticed your breath stop, your eyes darting to their hand beside you.

‘Hands! Th-their hands! They’re right there-!’ you internally panicked, not knowing what to do as your brain got sent into overdrive ‘Ahhh Y/N come on! Think! Hange’s hands can choke me...wait no- that’s not-! NO PLEASE’ your face was now extremely flushed over in heat as your brain had filled your headspace with images of Hange, their hands, and extremely sinful acts that would be far from appropriate to do in a library.

“Y/N? Are you sure you’re alright? We can head back to the dorm instead” Hange grinned as they could feel the gears in your head turning and they knew you really did have a serious hand fetish, and they were going to capitalize on that since they always loved to tease you with every chance they got.

“Oh! Hey..Hands- I mean Hange! Hange! Yeah, that’s what I said!” you stumbled over your words trying to save yourself, utterly failing to do so as your face seemed to keep on heating up even more when you thought it’s reached its limit.

Hange laughed, fully enjoying the effect their hands had on you and smirked having one last thing they wanted to try.

Their hand wrapped around your throat as they began to slightly choke you, the smirk on their face widened significantly when they heard you quietly moan, biting your lip as you didn’t want the rest of the library to hear your voice which threatened to make itself known.

“Tell me, does that give you pleasure?” Hange whispered huskily as their voice was laced with temptation, reveling in the way you looked with their hand wrapped around your neck, and with how your moan was the most angelic thing they’ve ever heard.

“H-Hange, not..not here-“ you quietly whispered but only moaned once more when they slightly tightened their hold on your neck a bit more

“I don’t think you heard me. I said, does it give you pleasure?” Hange spoke as they emphasized their question, making you whimper and nod in submission.

“Good girl. Now let’s go back to the dorm and..try out new things, shall we?”

The next day, you were left unable to walk as you shivered in remembering the events that took place in your dorm, and you enjoyed every single second of it.

[utanoprince-imagines]

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

Prompt: Soulmate AU where the person sees in colour once they lock eyes with their soulmate

Character(s): Otoya/Tokiya

Genre: Slight angst, comfort

Word count: 1,260

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood and terminal illness

A/N: So... this was meant for Otoya’s birthday, but with the amount of procrastination I did I’m going to post this as a regular fic now. It’s gonna be hard for me to post birthday stories timely from now on, so I might just not do it anymore, but of course I will still write for the boys!

So I hope you enjoy this story, it’s kinda sad but I promise it gets better (cause I would never hurt Otoya like this)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31352561

Otoya’s aunt had told him, the day that she brought him to see the sunflower field, the sunset had the most beautiful orange hue she had seen in her life. Everything was painted in a breathtaking sight, to the point where she didn’t want to leave.

“Otoyan, I hope you get to meet your soulmate soon, it would make me very happy.” His aunt said.

In the world he lived in, soulmates were granted a special privilege once they met each other. Upon meeting the soulmate, they would be blessed with the ability to see the world in colour. Often during breakfast, Otoya’s aunt would hand him a cup, she told him it was a red one. Being a curious child, Otoya asked her to describe what the colour felt like.

"Well you see, red's a really passionate colour, it sometimes seems fierce and fired up. But also, I believe red is the colour of life, it’s the colour of the blood that runs through our body." 

Otoya decided that red was going to be his favourite colour. 

Naturally as a kid Otoya asked his aunt to buy him things in the colour red, and his aunt did. Even though he couldn't see colours, Otoya believed that his aunt would make the effort to find the best red backpack and the best red sweater she could. 

Growing up without parents, Otoya was extremely attached to his aunt. Although she was now a widow, he knew that she worked extremely hard to support him and his interests. His aunt was his number one supporter, and Otoya's wish was to return the favour when he grew older. 

Unfortunately that wish would never come true when Otoya got the call that his aunt was hospitalised one day. 

It was pneumonia, he was informed. He had only heard of the illness during a class discussion once and had never expected a close relative of his to have contacted it. 

While his aunt didn't have the weakest body, he knew she had suffered from asthma from a young age, further fuelling the devastation caused by the virus. 

On one of the days he visited his aunt, he overheard the doctors' conversations 

"It's not looking good, she's coughing up a lot of blood."

That sentence stuck with him. 

Blood. The very thing that granted his aunt a life was the same thing that was causing her death. 

The passing of his aunt left behind a very void Otoya. He still attended highschool and graduated, he hung out with his friends at the arcade, but he was an empty vessel, constantly putting up his bright smile so no one would be concerned over him. 

Eventually Otoya graduated high school, deciding to pursue a career in music. He wanted to be a singer. His aunt always had music playing in the house when she was doing the chores or engrossed in a book. Sometimes when an upbeat song was played, she and Otoya would dance across the living room together, it was something Otoya always looked forward to. 

On bad days, Otoya would sit in a little cosy corner he made in his apartment. His aunt had a favourite song that she liked to listen to, and Otoya would find himself plugging in his earphones, while playing that song on repeat.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away...” Otoya always felt a pang in his heart whenever that line was sung, it hit a little too close to home. 

“It’s okay, you had your reason for crossing the rainbow bridge, I hope you’re in a better place now.” Otoya would often mutter to himself, while looking up at the sky.

The night before the audition, Otoya had trouble falling asleep, partially due to the excitement and partially due to him being nervous. He really wanted to do well. For the past month he had practiced the same self composed song over and over again on his guitar, to the point where some of his fingers had blisters. 

Otoya walked past the sunflower field on his way to the audition. The sight of it made it stop in his footsteps. It was still in the same shade of grey when he saw it as a kid, but it was so nostalgic - Otoya hadn’t dared step foot into the field since his aunt passed, worried that it would bring him more pain than he could handle. 

But he made a mental note to himself that he would drop by after his audition.

As expected, Otoya passed the audition - with flying colours in fact. The judges absolutely loved his piece and were very eager to have him sign on with the company. Otoya was given the chance to debut in a seven member group as planned by the company, and his training began in a month. 

His steps felt light as he made his way home, almost to the point where he was skipping along the pavement. With hurried footsteps, he made his way to the sunflower field. 

Otoya made his way towards a bench that he and his aunt often sat at, a spot deemed as the perfect place to watch the sunset by his aunt. He placed his guitar beside him and took a seat, everything was silent, with the occasional sound from the wind blowing across the field. Otoya took in a deep breath, enjoying the peace he had in the moment. He was relieved life was going as he wanted it too, and he hoped that wherever his aunt was watching him from, that she would be proud.

Suddenly, Otoya felt his ears perk up from the sound of someone singing. It was the most calming voice he had ever heard, a melody so enchanting that Otoya found himself under its spell. He straightened his back and looked around for the source, and eventually his eyes landed on a tall, dark blue-haired male who wasn’t standing too far away from where he was. 

The singing male didn’t seem to notice the pair of eyes fixated on him as he continued the melody of the song. As the song came to an end, the male seemed to sense that someone was watching him, as he turned his head and his eyes locked onto Otoya’s.

Immediately, a parade of colours came raining down into Otoya’s vision, dyeing the sunflower field in different shades of golden and yellow. Otoya's eyes widened and he felt himself let out a gasp and tears fell down his cheeks as he brought a hand to cover his mouth. The sight that unfolded in front of him was truly as beautiful as how his aunt had described it to him.

Otoya couldn’t stop the tears that kept flowing continuously down his face, and his hands eventually fell limp to his side. The other male also seemed rather dazed by the sudden discovery, but he remained calm and he approached Otoya.

“Are you okay?”, he asked, in a tone so gentle that Otoya couldn’t help but throw his arms around him, his body still quivering ever so slightly. 

The male gently rubbed circles on his pack, hoping to comfort him.

“Seeing in colour is beautiful isn’t it?” Otoya heard him ask, to which he simply nodded his head, whispering a soft ‘thank you’. 

When the both of them eventually pulled away, Otoya shyly introduced himself and also told the male that he hoped to get to know him as a person better. 

“I’m Ichinose Tokiya, I hope to get to know you better as well.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “ER”

Short story for Krill this morning. Hope you guys enjoy. 

Dr. Krill was back on Earth. He had no idea why he always seemed to end up in this insane hellscape, but here he was…. again. only the other day he had been caught out in an electrical storm while trying to commute his way to work, which he hadn’t particularly appreciated, especially not when massive balls of frozen ice came pelting from the sky with enough power to tear open skin.

Even the humans had been running for cover, and that was saying something.

He would very much have preferred a job where he wasn’t in constant danger of getting murdered by the elements on a regular basis.

But this was earth, one day he could be enjoying the sun, the next he was risking heat death, the next he was almost blown away by the wind, and the day after that he was almost whisked away by minor flooding.

Of course, it was either walking to work or taking public transit which was probably even more dangerous considering that it had humans on board. Humans who were half asleep, humans who were strung out on drugs, humans with children, humans with dangerous pets. Then of course there were the more than mildly xenophobic humans, who were, somehow, under the impression that Krill was there to still earthling jobs, which was not the case at all considering that he had volunteered him time for free.

Krill had no need of monetary compensation, to him, the work was the reward.

He leaned something new every day.

And now, with his current stint working in a human hospital, he was becoming even more acquainted with humanity… not entirely sure if that was in a good way or not.

OF course, Krill more than missed the simple life aboard the harbinger where most humans were relatively educated and competent, where most stupid injuries came about by overly idiotic actions rather than ignorance -- a point could be argued to which one of those things was worse, but, for the moment, Krill was under the impression that willful idiocy was still better than ignorance because at least they knew why they were stupid, and generally openly admitted it to krill whereas working with the general populace forced him to have to be patient and understanding towards people who just didn’t know any better.

Apparently telling people they are stupid to their faces is seen as off-color in the human medical world even though that is probably exactly what some of the people needed to hear.

Again, he found himself wishing for the harbinger, and for the return of the captain – the biggest idiot of them all.

He idly wondered how he was doing on his little trip across the universe.

He wondered how Sunny was doing exploring the human world on her own two feet/

He wished he knew when they would be back together.

The UNSC had given them extended shore leave, but they had never specified how long it was going to be seeming to hint that it was contingent on how the captain felt. Well Krill was under the impression the captain needed to get his ass back here so krill would stop having to pull things out of people’s butts.

 Speaking of pulling things out of people’s butts’ he was on ER rotation today. He found that the ER could be the most interesting, or the most infuriating part of a hospital. Just the other day he had led the surgical team that reattached someone’s arm, but then the day before that he had been in the ER to inform a woman that yes your shortness of breath likely comes from the run you just went on after years of never having exercised.

He took his clipboard and walked into the human waiting room.

He could write a paper on what sort of things it was important for a medical professional to keep in mind when treating humans. But here was an example of his typical day.

·         Isn’t this the second time I have seen little Jimmy in here for sticking something up his nose? I understand that he really loves playing with those toys, but you have to understand there is a reason the label says five and up. Yes, it would probably be best if you did not allow him around things he could get stuck in his face.

·         Your pregnant. Yes of course I am sure. I can do a blood test if you like. I know you said you are not sexually active, but I have looked at this blood test twice and a stick test twice and it says you are pregnant. Well what do you consider sexually active…. mmhmmm…. Mmmhmmm…. well I think it is probably my job to inform you that it is still sex even if the woman is on top.

·         You just…. fell on it huh? So, you were doing household chores…. Naked…. And you just so happened to slip and as you were slipping this item was magically vacuumed up into your colon. Mmmmm hmmm, quick question where was this potato located for you to have fallen on it like that? Well no sir, I am afraid that we probably won’t be able to get it out manually you are going to need a gastrointestinal specialist for that.

·         Yes sir, your chest pain probably has something to do with all the cocaine you have been snorting. Cocaine tends to do that to people.

·         Ok you are a diabetic trying to control your blood sugar. Ok, I am glad to hear that you have worked on toning down your sugar consumption, that’s good, but I am still very concerned about your sugar levels. This is far to high and I am extremely concerned. Let’s go through your diet and see what you have been eating. Have you cut back on soft drinks? Yes, and now you drink a lot of fruit juice…. ahh… I see. Well ma’am fruit juice just so happens to contain a lot of sugar which might be why your blood sugar is so high. Might I suggest drinking some water.

·         Ah finally, a real emergency. Yes, your grandmother’s breathing problems worry me greatly. Let’s get her back in to do an EKG, make sure nothing is gong on with her heart. I am glad you brought her in when you did.

·         Yes, little Susie is going to be fine. I am glad she knew how to use her epi-pen, excellent work Susie.

·         No, I don’t care that you have been waiting four hours to se the doctor. Your child has a mild stomach ache, their child is having intermittent seizures. No, I will not be calling the medical director in to see you about this.

·         Well that’s probably why it hurts so much. The condom is not supposed to cover the balls too.

·         No matter how much you deny your use of opiates, when you came in here you weren’t breathing and when I gave you Narcan you started breathing again, so I know where my vote is. Please try not to deny these things to your medical professional next time. It is not my job to call the cops. No, I am not going to rat you out. Yes, you could die if you don’t tell me about past drug use no matter what it is.

·         You got a WHAT in your WHERE. Why would you stick a toothpick in there? No sir generally most people are not ailed with an itchy urethra, in fact I am pretty sure that is not a thing. Look, I am not judging you sir, but please stop sticking pointy things up into places where they do not belong because you could cause permanent damage.

·         Ouch… now remind me again why you were trying o ride your skateboard down the stairs. And you openly admit that you are not good at skating…. Because you saw a video. I am very glad you know it was a dumb idea because at least I don’t have to say it.

·         Ma’am this says analgesic not anal-gesic, the pills are taken orally not as a suppository.

·         You have been bleeding once a month for ten years and you are just now coming in about that? I am sorry, but how old are you again. Yes, ma’am this is very normal, here let me get you a pamphlet to read, and if you have any questions feel free to ask one of the nurses.

·         So you don’t have any medical history. Well are you taking any medications. That sure is a lot of medications for someone who does not have any medical history. This one looks like it is for high blood pressure. Sir just because the medication is helping you manage your high blood pressure does not meant that your high blood pressure is cured.

·         When I say clear liquids that does not include vodka

·         I know vodka does have alcohol in it, but pouring it on your open soar sure did not help anything, and now you are probably going to need a plastic surgeon to fix this.

·         No ma’am you have to put ear drops in both ears. No, the ears are not connected. Yes, your eardrums and you know… your brain are kind of in the way. No there is not a tube that just goes straight through.

·         Please stop licking your wound.

·         Um no, those bumps on your tongue are not cancer…. They are taste buds.

·         Yes, that it a uvula…. Yes, it is supposed to be there.

·         What made you think sticking ice cubes up your anus would help with your fever. Well it will not and now you have frost bite in your rectum.

·         So it was the smell that got you to come in and not the…. Maggots?

 Krill groaned in relief as he went to clock out.

‘Tough day?” Someone asked

“I think something needs to be done about medical education on your planet.”

The human laughs, “We have been trying for more than two thousand years. Good lucky making it any better than it already is.”

 Please, Adam finish your journey of self-discovery soon because if I have to explain how to use a condom one more time, I might just loose it.

[pepperonyspizza]

Day 3: Soulmates AU 

No Warnings, Platonic Ironhusbands, Pepperony, Angst and Fluff

The first time Tony feels the skin of his arm tingle is when he’s 15 years old. 

He’s just moved into his dorm room at MIT, still unsure of his father’s decision to send him here at this age. He doesn’t feel like he belongs and the confused, judging and even angry looks he’s received from other people on campus do little to ease his worries. They must know who he is and aren’t all that happy about it. 

Tony is sitting on his bed, studying the unfamiliar items that give him a vague idea about his roommate when he hears the door open. Jumping up from the bed, he prepares himself for the worst. He only hopes that the other guy won’t request to change rooms upon realizing who he has to share his space with. 

The man that enters is a few years older than Tony and bafflingly handsome. He seems surprised upon seeing a stranger in the room but recovers quickly enough and, to Tony’s surprise, smiles pleasantly while stretching out his hand. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m James.”

It takes Tony a moment to catch up with everything that’s happening. 

“Tony,” he says lamely, reaching to take James’ offered hand. 

That’s when he notices the weird sensation on his lower arm. He gasps and pulls away, ignoring the other man’s confused look in favour of pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie. Tony watches with wide eyes as the smooth blue lines write out a name. 

James Rhodes

Only when James makes a similar surprised noise is Tony able to tear his gaze away from the writing to look up. Indeed, the other man is clutching his arm as well and even though his hand covers part of the mark, Tony can see his name engraved in his roommate’s skin in the same beautiful blue colour. 

“Holy shit,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth. 

James simply nods, his eyes still fixed on his mark. Tony isn’t sure what to make of the man’s expression, he’s always been awful at reading people. Is he disappointed? Sad? Angry? He can’t imagine the discovery of having Tony Stark of all people as your platonic soulmate to be a thrilling one. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes when James fails to speak up. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for since he’s had nothing to do with this. People don’t get to choose their soulmates, the universe does - or at least that’s what his mother tells him. Still, he already feels bad for the guy. “I didn’t know-” “Of course you didn’t,” James interrupts him, the words causing Tony’s blood to run cold. “You didn’t do this. It’s fate, I guess. And why are you apologizing in the first place?” The older man finally looks up at Tony and immediately frowns at what he’s seeing. “Dude, are you okay? You’re pale as hell.” “I’m fine.” “Are you sure? Did I give off that bad of an impression for you to be scared?” “No!” Tony shakes his head. “That’s not it. I’m not disappointed or anything.”

“Then what’s with the long face?”

“I thought that… you might be,” he admits, weakly gesturing at his arm. “I know my dad isn’t a very popular man and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I-”

“I’m not thinking anything here. I don’t know you, man.” James takes a step forward, which brings him close enough to rest a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Which we’ll have to change. Have you already eaten dinner?” 

Tony opens his mouth but besides an incoherent unintelligible gurgle, nothing comes out. The grin James shoots him is enough to make him blush and he quickly shakes his head before he gets the chance to make an even bigger fool of himself. 

“Good. How does pizza sound?” 

“I love pizza,” he says in a quiet voice. 

Frankly, he has still trouble believing that he’s being accepted like this. James is right, he doesn’t know Tony but when has that ever stopped anyone from judging him? It’s almost impossible that he’s gotten this lucky with at least one of his two soulmates. 

That’s the exact reason why he is your soulmate, a small voice in the back of his head reminds him. 

“Let’s go then.” James squeezes his shoulder once before letting go and turning back towards the door. “I know this great place right around the corner. You’ll love it.” 

Tony says nothing as he follows his new friend but the smile on his face says it all. 

~*~

The second time Tony feels the skin of his arm tingle is when a stranger barges through his office door to tell him that a mistake has been made in accounting. 

Truth be told, he’s pretty hungover and not entirely sure if this is what’s happening or if his imagination is to blame for all of it since the woman does look like something that could very well come out of his dreams. But she’s too angry for that, doesn’t even acknowledge Tony when he shoots her one of his very special grins and threatens Happy with a can pepper spray. 

That certainly isn’t part of his usual dreams. 

“It’s already, Happy. I got this,” he tells his distressed security guard. The man nods and quickly exits the office, leaving the two of them alone. Tony gets up from his desk, hissing at the pain that erupts inside his head. He rubs his temples while addressing the stranger. “And you are?” 

“Virginia Potts,” the woman with the remarkable red hair says. 

She’s clutching a file in her hands, apparently the one with a critical mistake. Tony doesn’t really care about this kind of stuff and normally lets Obadiah take care of it. His godfather has always been much more interested in the company than Tony ever was - but the older man is away on a business trip and asked Tony to have an eye on everything until his return. 

“Listen, Potts. While I have no doubt that whatever you’re here for is important-” “It is.  ” “Yeah, I’m sure of it. But the thing is that my head hurts and all that yelling earlier didn’t really help with that, so how about you come back some other time and-”

He never gets to finish his sentence, too distracted by the sudden sensation on his right arm. Only once has he felt this soft pressure on his skin and even through the fog of his hangover, Tony realizes what’s happening. 

With absolutely no grace or elegance, Tony shoves the sleeve of his expensive suit out of the way to watch as a second name appears on his skin. This one is red, much like her hair, something he would take the time to admire if he wasn’t positively freaked out. 

Virginia Potts 

There it is. His soulmate is standing right in front of him, frozen in place. He frowns at her rigid figure, unsure if she understands what is happening. She certainly hasn’t made any move to look at her own wrist and from the way she’s still holding onto that file, Tony can’t see if she has his name, or any name for that matter, on her arm. 

“Did you…?” 

He trails off mid-question but that’s alright because Virginia (yeah, they’ll have to do something about that name - it doesn’t fit her at all) is nodding her head slowly. Upon her confirmation, Tony lets out a long breath. He’s heard about people not receiving their mark when meeting their alleged soulmate and although Tony never cared too much about it in the past, it’s a relief that he’s not so unlucky. 

“Mr Stark-”

“Tony, please.” “I don’t think that’s appropriate for me to call you,” she says carefully and it’s enough for Tony to laugh. 

“We’re soulmates. My name is literally tattooed on your arm. I think we can let this pass.” 

“But-”

“No buts, Pepper. My name is Tony. Mr Stark was my father.”

“Pepper?”

“No offence but Virginia is a rather boring name. Not that I don’t enjoy having it on my arm! But I think after that little stunt you pulled on poor Happy, this is a very fitting nickname.” 

Pepper (yes, this is so much better) rolls her eyes at his childishness but her posture relaxes and she finally drops the file on the table separating them, revealing her mark. Tony can’t describe the feeling rising up in his chest upon looking at it but he’s certain that he’s never felt it before. 

“Am I allowed to call you something completely absurd as well?” she asks, a slight twinkle in her eyes as she looks down at his mark. She’s trying to be subtle judging by the way she blushes when Tony turns his arm to show give her a better view. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck with such a boring name.”

He clicks his tongue.

“I told you that I don’t mind. I don’t mind it one damn bit.” His comment earns him another eye roll. Tony doesn’t know if that’s a good sign, although she’s still here. She hasn’t run away cursing and screaming much like he has expected her to do, and he’s counting this as a win. “How about you? I know my name is fascinating but people tend to dislike the person it’s attached to.” 

It’s supposed to come out as a joke but something in his voice must give him away because Pepper looks at him in surprise. That isn’t good. He doesn’t like it when people can look through his facade. It makes him feel exposed and he already toys with the idea of reaching for his glasses that are laying on the desk in front of him. 

Then again, there is a reason that this woman is his soulmate - or at least Tony thinks so. Maybe it’s not the best idea to hide from her. 

“I think…” Pepper pauses, either because she actually has to think about her following words or because she simply likes to watch him squirm, which he visibly does. “I’ll have to find out for myself.” 

Her answer catches Tony off guard, taking him back to all those years ago when he first met Rhodey. He told Tomy something similar, had given him a chance instead of judging someone he’d never met before - and Tony can’t believe that the same thing is happening again. “Right, that makes sense,” he says quickly, afraid that Pepper will change her mind if he gives her too much time to think about it. “What do you say about dinner? Tonight? I can cook, or nearly burn down the house and then order us something.”

She doesn’t laugh but Tony is almost certain that she wants to. 

“How about tomorrow? It’ll give you time to get rid of your hangover and take a look at that accounting errors.” She points at the file on his desk. 

He’s nodding before she has even finished speaking. He’ll look over anything she puts in front of him, not only because anyone determined enough to get past security must actually be passionate about their job but also because she’s giving him a chance. A real chance. 

Tony doesn’t get much of those. 

“It’s a date.” He immediately corrects himself when noticing Pepper’s glare. “Not a date?” “We’ll see,” she says before turning around and walking towards the door. “Look at the file!” is the last thing out of her mouth and then Tony is left alone in his office, the headache coming back full force once his brain registers that the moment has passed. 

He falls back in his chair, clutching head and groaning loudly but there is a smile on his face and he has a feeling that this will be the last hangover he’ll have to

[multific]

Unusual Relationship

Michael Langdon x Xavier Plympton x Reader

Genre: Fluff, mention of angst

Words: 1200

Summary: What would you do if two of the most gorgeous men want to date you?

“Excuse me?” you asked watching the two males sitting in front of you, only a table separating the two from you.

“Well, since you couldn’t decide which one of us you’d like to date, we decided to share you.” explained Michael once more. Xavier nodding by him the whole time.

“Hold on. You two decided so share ME? The fact that you are talking about me like I was some kind of toy is not my concern now, I’m more worried about the fact that you two, the most jealous, defensive and possessive people I know, came to a conclusion?”

“We do not talk about you like you are a toy. You are our everything. I have been in love with you since I saw you on campus and Michael’s the same. Give us a chance. We stopped out fights and came to this conclusion.” said Xavier. But you still weren’t convinced.

“And you think that polygamy is the way to success?”

“Yes.” both of them said at the same time.

You thought about the past few months, you met the two on campus when you were lost. Xavier came up to you first and helped you, and you met Michael on the class that you were late to. Both of them were interested in you and started flirting with you. You didn’t like to play with others’ feelings so you decided to tell both of them about the other. But instead, it created war. Both men tried to whoo you. At first, you liked the attention you got. Then it became worse and worse. They had fights and the last yelling ended with a fistfight. You told them you never want to see them again and that this wasn’t healthy so you left them alone ever since.

It was surprising to get a call from Michael that he and Xavier wants to meet you.

You were beyond surprised by their idea of starting a polygamous relationship. But at least they looked like they were on good terms.

“And no more fighting? No more yelling about who has the bigger dick? No more taking you two to the hospital to get wounds treated?”

“We promise, Y/N. If you are willing to try, so are we.” said Michael as he reached over and held your hand, Xavier did the same with your other hand.

“We’ll behave. And it’s obvious that I’m bigger than him, so there’s no point in fighting anymore.”

Michael let out a sigh and you watched the two.

“Okay. I’ll give this a chance.”

***

Five months later, you were so glad you accepted their idea and started a relationship with the two guys.

As it turned out, Xavier was a magnificent lover who was more like cuddlier while Michael was the colder one, but he loved you just as much as Xavier did.

And you also ended one of their fights with the discovery of the fact that they had pretty much the same size.

They were both affectionate, Michael often got you flowers, while Xavier brought you chocolate. Since you lived alone, they often spent time at your place. Your activities varied from cooking/baking together to watch movies all the way to having mind-blowing sex anywhere in the house.

You were glad to see that they got along very well. You’d go as far as to say that they loved each other, just not the same way they loved you. Your relationship was everything one could wish for. You got to see both of their sweet and cool sides. While you were on dates, or when you walked around campus, people often stared, judged your way of life. To them, your relationship was weird and unnatural, but you couldn’t care less. You were in love with both men, and you intended keeping both for yourself.

Michael even came up with the plan of living together once you all graduate and start working, since your apartment might be big enough for you to stay at, but your bed way definitely small for three people.

One weekend Michael had to go home to his family, which left Xavier and you at your place, watching a horror movie while eating a lot of popcorn.

You honestly enjoyed it very much, but you had to admit that the absence of Michael was evident and you missed him very much.

Xavier seemed to notice that, so he pulled his phone out and video called Michael.

“Aww, you miss me, My Love?” Michael asked as Xavier explained the situation. You were cuddles to the blonde’s chest while you held his phone to speak with Michael. Xavier was rather interested in the movie, so he focused on that afterward.

“I do! I’m so used to having both of you here. It’s like one of my side is warm while the other is not. How will I sleep??? It will be so weird!”

“Oh, Love. I miss you too! At least you have someone to sleep with, and no, the family dog is not an option.”

“When will you come home?”

Home. Michael’s heart started beating faster as you said that. He truly saw you his home and now that you said it, it gave him warmth.

“Sunday. I’ll be back home on Sunday afternoon.” he couldn’t help the large smile on his face.

Xavier finally looked at the screen.

“Good. I don’t think I can listen to hear moaning about how much she misses you. And you left like what, six hours ago? It’s like I’m not enough!”

“Don’t say that, Xav! You know I love both of you equally,” you said slightly slapping his chest as he laughed, you knew he didn’t mean what he said. He was just teasing you.

“And we love you too.” Michael said as he couldn’t do anything else but to watch his lovers kiss on the screen.

“Don’t worry, Mickey, I will take good care of her tonight. And tomorrow morning, and after breakfast and before lunch and after lu-“

“Okay, that’s enough. You should go to sleep Mickey, you drove a lot. We’ll call you tomorrow! Good night!” you interrupted Xavier then offered a smile to Michael and he smiled back.

“Good night, My Loves.” Michael said. Xavier placed a kiss to your cheek as he said his goodbye.

“Okay, to the bedroom we go!” said Xavier as he picked you up after he placed his phone down. “I will have you for myself allll night long.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

Sure, Xavier still made some comments here and there, but you could tell by the way he smiled, he was happy. And so were you.

You were happy to have two lovers even if it was an unusual relationship, you wouldn’t give it up for nothing.

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[x22wg]

Shore Leave (part 15)

So about what I said about avoiding The Angst last time... well I guess I’m a proper fanfic author now. Whoops. It’s finally time to do the Time Warp (for the first and last time) and Burnham can’t run away from confronting Tilly forever! This wraps up this story (gasp!) unless I go mad and try to adapt that mess of a third season.

Concentration writ plainly on her face, Michael Burnham listened intently to her mother's instructions. She had seen this recording dozens of times, of course, but beyond just memorizing it she had to understand. For one, the enemy fleet could appear at any moment. More importantly, the time suit would help her guide the Discovery into the future and out of reach of the omnicidal Control forever, but it would be a one-way trip. As such there was no opportunity for a test run.

Standing in the middle of her quarters, she was in fact not even wearing the special undersuit designed to be used with the time suit. It was hardly comfortable to wear, which was her excuse not to. Wearing only her underwear she felt... unrestrained. Even if the sports bra dug deeply enough to form plump rolls on her back and her short bottoms hugged the underside of a rotund potbelly.

With a weary sigh, Burnham closed the recording and stepped over to her desk. Sitting down heavily she brought back the projection, leaned back and continued to watch.

Deep down there was the greater worry that she could no longer fit into the suit. And as long as she didn't try it on she would not be confronted by that terrible scenario. The possibility clawed at the back of her mind, however – even as she tried to concentrate on her mother explaining how to operate the time suit. Moving on its own, her hand explored the generous curve of her plump side as if to assess the danger.

Even after all this time she hadn't really gotten to grips with her greater size, making it all but impossible to judge if she had lost or gained weight. Thinking about it, she was fairly certain she was in the clear. She realized Tilly had been rather stingy with the treats lately, which probably helped.

As Michael mused about this, her autonomous hand wandered over to an opened bag of chocolate fudge sitting on the desk. Retrieving a couple she idly popped them into her mouth. Her cravings ignited, more would follow in increasingly rapid succession. To think that only a few months ago only a handful would probably have made her sick. Now she could hardly get enough – and she enjoyed every little bite of it.

Part of her even considered taking a trip to the mess hall, but the work at hand was too important.  I don't think I can ask for take-away delivery either, she thought wryly, just before the door chime heralded a visitor. Michael sat up in her chair and for a moment she wondered if she actually had ordered food – on a combat-ready Federation starship.

The door quickly slid open on its own accord, confirming that it had to be her roommate and indeed not a food delivery. Reflexively turning her chair around, Michael realized she had remained seated only once Tilly stepped inside. Suddenly very aware of her laid-back posture she now felt a lot fatter than she had a moment ago.

Tilly did not seem to notice. She strode into the middle of the room, her face a quivering mask once she finally spoke: “So... what? You're leaving forever without as much as a goodbye?”

I should have told her, a voice in Burnham's head whispered and she felt her heart break. Which was why she had not told Tilly in the first place.

“I didn't want to... ruin things,” Michael pleaded weakly and heaved herself to her feet. She stopped about a belly-length and a half away, unable to come any closer.

Tilly had clearly anticipated this exact response and could only react with a half-chuckled scoff. Her weak smile hardly hid her exasperation: “And you thought I wouldn't notice? I know I'm not the best with this kind of stuff, but... Michael, you've been acting really weird lately! I didn't know what to believe. At first I thought it was about... you know...” Tilly glanced down at Michael's midsection.

True to form it took a moment for Burnham to catch even this unsubtle hint. “That's... why you've been stealing my food?”

“I dunno, I guess I thought...” Tilly exhaled and looked away, trying to make sense of everything. “You used to be smaller than me and suddenly that's changed and I didn't want that to drive us apart. So maybe you'd feel more comfortable if I also...”

The redhead paused and tugged at her slightly tighter shirt.

Mouthing silently, a desperate plea was written on Michael's face while she tried to find the right words. She took a step closer and felt her bare belly brush against Tilly's uniform. “Tilly... if anything, being around you makes me feel better about, well...” Michael tilted her head with a wistful little smile. “...everything.”

Opposite her, Tilly visibly fought the urge to just hug Burnham tightly. It was almost as if she recoiled, lest she gave in to her natural instinct of immediately forgiving it all.

“But you didn't think I deserved to know you're gonna disappear forever?” Saying it out loud clearly gave Tilly her resolve back. “That the crew didn't deserve to know? After all we've been through they're not just 'colleagues', exactly.”

“And that's why I couldn't say anything. I think of you all not as crew members but as friends. If I said goodbye that would...”

Yet again, Burnham was lost for words, but Tilly was quick to pick up the conversation: “All of us?”

Michael met the pointed look with one of confusion. “Is this about Philippa?” she ventured warily.

At first Tilly rolled her eyes but could hardly keep herself from laughing through the tears. “God and my mom says I'm oblivious...” Her voice, however, was raw. “Please, don't tell me that's really all I am to you.”

“Tilly...” Michael put her hands on the taller woman's shoulders and was finally forced to look her straight in the eyes. There was no denying no one aboard this ship was closer to her than Tilly. After she returned to Discovery, Tilly was the one who made her feel better about herself. And the one who supported her in bettering herself.

She was the one with whom Michael had shared everything. Until now. And only now that she had shut herself off from it did Michael realize it was Tilly's love that had kept her going. Through doubt and weakness – real or imagined.

The Federation loved Burnham as the hero of the Klingon Wars. The Emperor loved Burnham as the daughter she had lost. Tilly loved her for her. But after all that she had lost, Michael had refused to see it.

“I'm sorry,” Michael said and hugged herself close to Tilly. “I'm sorry I couldn't be honest with myself. And with you.”

Tilly immediately returned the favour, with none of their earlier awkwardness lingering in her embrace. “Hey, I know what it's like to not want to get hurt again. That's why I didn't want to push you...”

Michael drew back, arms around Tilly's neck to pull her down – enough to rest her forehead against hers. “Maybe you should have,” she smiled through the tears.

Tilly chuckled awkwardly. “I would never know what the heck to say.”

“That makes two of us,” came Michael's self-deprecating reply.

The two of them stared at each other for a small eternity; Michael's arms around Tilly's neck, Tilly's hands on Michael's soft lovehandles. And then, as if obeying some cosmic law, their lips met.

It was a sting of guilt that finally made Burnham break off. Resting her head against the taller woman's shoulder she sighed. “I wish I had known what we had before I had to go.”

“Then let's figure it out together,” Tilly said softly and hugged Michael closer. “Because I'm coming with you. We all are.”

Burnham looked up at her with desperation in her eyes. “I can't make you do that. Once you go through that portal there's no coming back.”

Tilly just smiled, calm and reassuring. “Good thing it's not up to you, then. Everyone's made up their mind and are waiting down the hall.”

Once again Michael was utterly lost for words, but this time it didn't matter. The gratitude in her eyes said all there was to say.

“Alright let's go meet them and get you suited up. The future is waiting for us.”

[nwagensellerswords]

A Trip To The Doctor’s

I knocked three times at the door. Displayed on the glass panel is Dr. Schloss, Psychologist. A call comes to let myself in, and I do so. 

“Hello, Fred. How are you today?”

“I’m unwell, doctor. That is not to say that I am doing poorly...but rather, I suppose, I am the opposite of comfortable.”

“Why is that? Is something bothering you at this time?”

“Not especially. It’s bizarre, doc...I cannot really fathom the general malaise in how I am feeling. It is a bit like an outsider looking into someone else’s life, analyzing the goings-on, and then said outsider is judging the life of the subject. However, I am both people in this respect.”

“Hmm...sounds dissociative in nature...please carry on.”

“Well, I was just laying around, without any chore to do, no urge to do one of my hobbies, nor any desire to look onto my phone or tablet to check social media or some other thing...I just felt like laying there. Staring at my hands, and strangely appreciating them…”

“That is a bit unusual. What thoughts came to you as you were...staring at your hands?”

“So, my thought was simply ‘Wow...to think that this ability of tactile hands and opposable thumbs, along with walking upright on two legs, as well as the ability to conjure abstract thought and communication of such amongst ourselves, are the fundamental aspects of defining what makes an individual human.”

“That seems a little bare in aspects to describe the human species, wouldn’t you agree, Fred?”

“I don’t disagree with you, doctor. However, I just can’t shake the dire happenstance of my intellectual wanderings. With not only climate collapse and the largest die-off of species in millions of years, corruption at the top levels of our societies, the sheer idiocy of distractions, taking the gaze of most people away from the important goals of how to improve society over arguing over things like Dr. Seuss or some other nonsense...I am just tired of the human experience.”

“That is rather distressing to hear from you, Fred. Usually, you seem rather energetic and hopeful. From your friends, whom I often meet on the street, they say you are a fount of positivity. Let me ask you then: what is the most fulfilling thing in your life right now? That which you look most forward to doing.”

“Hmm...In all honesty, my favorite activity is sleep. That isn’t to say that I enjoy the activity of sleep in and of itself, however. I actually hate napping and I have trouble sleeping as is. No, the joy of it comes from a deep, dark rest from the mundanity and insanity of reality. A sleep without dreams, quiet and peaceful, without thought or image bombarding my whole being with dread.”

“That is a morose description of rest from sleep. Why exactly do you feel so?”

“Doctor, have you ever heard the phrase “ignorance is bliss”? It certainly is something that, even if it is a well-worn expression, rings true for myself. I love learning, the research, the enlightening feeling of a new discovery, even if it is only yourself experiencing it for the first time. I have learned things that, in retrospect, have led to general dissatisfaction in not only my life, but on the whole concept of the human experience and its existence…”

“By god, Fred...How did you come to this?”

“Well, honestly I cannot find myself enjoying the same things I have beforehand with gusto. The dread of knowledge has both expanded my mind and empathetic feeling for a grand assortment of things while also detracting from my mood. The eternal gridlock of existence. I wish for this whole experience to be over.”

“Are you telling me that you feel suicidal?”

“No, I could not simply ‘off’ myself. Of course with my father’s passing from such an event. Though were I to do it, a gun to the temple would be best. Quick and efficient. I have thought on it often in the past, on the value of the world to myself and my value to those outside myself. I hold such a poor opinion of myself, isolated and alone, yet surrounded by kind people. Yet others whom I wish to be in contact with are moving along. I am both stuck and yet freer than some I know. I am just eager for nonexistence.”

“Usually for my patients, such a breakthrough in contemplating their emotions and actions takes months or years, and yet Fred, you were able to be open about such things in such an early stage in our professional relationship. While that is good to see, at the same time your comments worry me. What drives you to say you are ‘eager for nonexistence’?”

“Well, I cannot find the joy or hope I did in the past. It isn’t even my life that causes such, but just by existing in the world we live in, I feel...dark. When I see the youth of today, my thought goes to the horror they and their children will have to endure for the coming days. I feel deep pity for those of lesser societal standing, and a deep-seated anger that those who would claim to help them, yet abuse their positions. I cannot really say how fucked I feel. Just an unease. It is my free time allowing such to come about.

“Is there any way for me to help you in these episodes of...darkness?”

“The fact that I can bare my soul out to you and explain why is really what helps, doctor. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, Fred. Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me?”

“No, but thank you, Doctor Schloss. Same time in two weeks?

“That is indeed when we are scheduled to meet next. I hope you feel better over the following two weeks, Fred.”

“Thank you, doctor!”

I stand up, turn to the door, and exit.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Lonely Paws

Genre: Smut, Cam boy AU, FWB AU, College/University AU

Pairing: Cam boy!Namjoon x Reader

Warning: sub!Namjoon, male masturbation, impregnation kink, Namjoon is bad at sex, pet play (wolf pup play... ah dinnae ken, is that a thing?), sweater paws, unrequited love, allusion to unsafe penetrative sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, mild swearing/cussing

Summary: When a wolf pup carrying around a heart that is only sometimes loved is left alone, fantasy provided by the owner belonging to another forms a great escape to being appreciated.

Masterlist

Relationships are easily influenced occurrences, sometimes even so much so it is hardly possible to ascribe a certain status to it. Break-ups made undone only to become a steady rhythm of separation and reunion between two people, friendships flowing over into romance after bravely asking for a date yet acting so much so the same it makes one wonder when the connection deepened.

As became the case on the edge of the bed one night three years ago, tipsy on wine and whiskey but likely having ended up there anyway with the same wish even without booze. The same trust required to put into another for scary though rememberable first experiences, something we were not able to put into anyone but each other.

Sighing praise for wanton whimpers after tasting soft lips scented with grapes as bodies collided over and over, Y/N became the first woman to ever truly get exclusive attention despite the plethora of girls at high school and currently at university. Only her digits are allowed to run through ashy chocolate locks, caress round cheeks intentionally or without cause, wander lower and lower to stir up emotional storms that hold no significant meaning to anyone but a wisened spirit.

A mere sex buddy.

But, fortunately, also something of a more important nature.

Her pet wolf.

Because beneath a learned consciousness studying philosophy mainly out of pure interest but also due to not knowing what else to do, goes a persona seeking refuge in the ability to please others over digital highways while having a certain steady direction in the shape of a gorgeous owner.

As is the case during one’s youth, many new experiences are explored mostly out of curiosity and sometimes simply for shits and giggles. Porn is a discovery which combines the sentiments, the former becoming more and more dominant after filming a personal pleasurable session while continuously muttering the name of the wonderful woman who has put a boy in love in the friendzone and eventually putting it online afterwards. The desire to get to know the sensual field grew even more after seeing the positive comments, finding a sense of accomplishment in them.

Acknowledgement.

Something that has never followed the sex with Y/N, who always returns to Jisung, a young producer she met on a holiday in Malaysia. Thus, the strangely deep yet shallow friendship repeatedly ascends and descends, acquiring and losing statuses.

Fortunately, howbeit perversely and sadly, a form of recognition came one day during the cleaning of the bedroom in the house shared with six other men with whom a brotherhood has been established. Save to say, none of them knows what their trusted companion does as a job on the side to make ends meet. 

The pretty lady was cleaning under the bed when fingers traced out the fluffy shape of the recently acquired stone grey tail plug, which was gifted by a long-time viewer after proposing to try something new.

‘Uhm, Joon? What’s this?’ The toy in hand, the secret crush looked questionably at a mortified face caught in a war between Truth and Lie.

Choosing for the righteous side with a soft-spoken voice because it seemed the only way to save a precious unrequited love. ‘I- I can explain. Can we talk for a bit?’

And that is how the revelation of the weekly cam shows came to be, though the detail of doing it out of an urge to be seen as a lover was kept hidden and has been up till now.

 ‘So you do this as an extra source of income?’ This is all she was allowed to know. The truth, albeit the censored version. The familiar voice heard speaking in tones that should be preserved for the busy boyfriend yet were heard by a pup sounded questioning, although there was a weird preluding tone in it as well. 

‘Y- Yes. I hope it doesn’t-’ The attempt at gaining an estimate of the damage the information would inflict upon the sturdy friendship was cut short by a paradoxically misplaced inquiry. 

‘Who’s your biggest patron?’ A question that fully showed the identity of the strange emotion floating beneath the surface just a second earlier, hand clenching the freshly washed navy bedding as teeth gritted in curious animosity directed toward something unknown.

Or, rather, someone. 

Jealousy.

Y/N had actually turned emerald in envious despair.

Which was incredibly out of place for the love of a man for a gorgeous best friend had been unrequited until then. Until the sun sets in the west. However, failing to see that among the sheets the reality is different, fierce protest came against the then deemed absurd demeanour. ‘Does it matter? Y/N, it’s not as if we- ah!’

Out of the blue and as fast as lightning, a familiar small palm held many times while mindlessly fucking or on the rare occasion of genuine lovemaking - at least it was sincere for one party - enveloped denim heated with shameful images of what could be done with the discovered toy. Especially when surrendered to the woman who inherently belonged to another. ‘Nobody claims my wolf for themselves.’

‘Y- Your wolf?’ A slight squeeze awakened the submissive persona within that always surfaces when similar circumstances occur, reducing a baritone voice to needy whining. 

‘Yes, Joonie. Mine.’ A whimper fell from full stunned lips, paralyzed by the digits that had slipped past the rim of jeans and underwear to act upon the primal urges overtaking demeanour, enjoying the sensation of sinning soft skin encouraging release. A mischievous grin began to grow from the snarl on my new owner’s lovely face, continuing to contrastingly sweetly caress the right cheek before petting chocolate milk strands as the knot in the pit of the stomach kept building. ‘My beautiful honey wolf.’

‘Y- Yours.’ The acknowledgement was spoken in the broken manner which has always been a loved aspect of a boy in love and has never failed to make Y/N happy.

The priority of every pet.

Of every man loving their significant other.

To delight the person the heart belongs to. 

‘What’s that?’ Regardless of having heard it clearly, the statement allowing the enchanting mistress to claim full possession of a wolf boy wanted to be heard again if only for personal satisfaction.

The knowledge to be better than the biggest sponsor.

Because she was there first.

Always had been.

Always will be. 

‘I- I’m y- yours.’ It came out on a squeaky breath, the pooling heat below having grown painful and turned even more agonizing when being encouraged further. A kiss on the neck went paired with a careful lick, testing the waters to discover how much this alternative animalistic personality was truly liked despite every instinct urging to act and chase a release into blinding bliss. ‘Let m- me m- make you f- feel good.’

And it was liked. Very much so, judging by the firm grip on whimpering locks driven further to the edge by fingertips sneaking towards the most sensitive part and suggestive tone in the whisper that definitely changed the relationship. ‘Then put on your pretty tail, Joonie, and let’s see how good my wolf really can make me feel.’

Being driven too much to edge already, everything went blank when connecting unprotected after the swift disposal of clothes covering the lower body but not being allowed to recuperate before being forced into moving by the firm grip on the behind and thus left mewling in overstimulation.

However, it is the duty of a pet to satisfy its owner.

The duty of a wolf to satisfy its bitch.

So the warm orange afternoon carried on into lilac twilight, breathing laboured while trying to perform to the best of capability despite clumsy movements that at some point no longer were given feedback but gone along with and thin spurts of gratitude.

Luckily, the pretty owner did not seem to mind it just like the audience tuning in weekly to see a stuttering baby boy did not mind the transformation into a submissive wolf pup which is owned. In fact, it sparked encouraging perverse cooing alongside sincere comments about the innocent sweetness of the situation, praising loyalty and looks.

A bond that remains even when Y/N is absent, keeping up appearances of a normal friendship by readily agreeing to Jisung’s plan to go on a holiday together and thus basically forcing a pup to be left behind. Withal, the wonderful mistress has found a way to make her baby wolf remember who adopted it, who it should remain in service to despite a prolonged absence.

Everything is set up for tonight’s broadcast, the camera set up just at the right angle to capture any increase of sensual excitement illuminated by the few additional not too brightly shining ring lights kept out of the screen. The vague scent of peach hangs in the air among linen and figs, stemming from the liquid aid supporting the transformation from a man into a boy in unrequited love. Furry chocolate ears protrude from same-toned locks and match the fluffy tail gifted recently after visiting the hairdresser together to return from icy platinum to warm brown, quickly falling into sinful teasing - as has become a habit between us - whenever nobody was looking.

To complete the outfit or, rather, the lack of clothes, hands are buried in the oversized sleeves of the striped sweater that was also given as a present because I behaved so well.

No, not me.

The persona.

The pet within.

Indeed.

I.

Because I behaved and even trained to become a better lovable cub though the clumsiness shall never fade, no matter how many hours are spent on endeavours to improve performance. Notwithstanding, as long as nothing is said to indicate evident dissatisfaction, perhaps the way we are is the best despite being stationary.

Clearing the throat a few times to naturally fall into the cute demeanour concealed beneath a wise exterior, fingertips already slightly tease sensitive skin after pulling up an innocent picture of the beautiful woman turned into more than a friend. Slowly, sanity loses itself over the coy smile holding out a fork with a bite of homemade matcha cake, liking it only if she has made it. However, Reason can be prevented from getting completely lost in sensual limbo by stopping all movements before it starts to feel too incredible and fancy conjures an imitating spirit. 

A deep longing sigh escapes at the view on agitated desire, twitching with the need for more yet having to wait in unwanted refraining until tonight’s plan is put into motion. ‘Ok, here we go.’

For the last time, all equipment is checked as well as the connection to the streaming platform. All is well.

Time to begin.

‘H- Hey, everyone. I- It’s me, J- Joonie.’ As soon as the record button is pushed, the stuttering alternative personality who loves wearing oversized sweaters and knows only to obey in order to please takes over fully. ‘M- Mistress is a- away on a h- ho- holiday and I c- coul- couldn’t come with her.’

The first comments about what a shame it is and filled with wonder how Y/N, nicknamed Mistress for privacy reasons, could do such a thing start to flood the chat window. Seeing the pity makes a warm flush spread throughout that rises to caramel cheeks which are swiftly covered by a sweater paw as the other continues to hide the twitching longing beneath. ‘Th- Thank you for your k- kind words. I- It’s a- al- alright, though. My pre- pretty owner has l- left a m- me- message so I’ll re- remember who I belong t- to. It’ll b- be like she’s h- here.’

More viewer reactions, this time praising the adorable stutter and loyalty of a good wolf pup.

Appreciation.

Love.

All that the gorgeous best friend with benefits cannot fully give to the philosophical mind always walking on the sideline, close yet far away. Lies down on the other pillow in the two-person bed after ensuring the heart belonging to another is cherished despite not being owned outside of the agreed-upon relationship.

The lover is inherently and undeniably hers.

Both the man and the wolf.

I am Y/N’s.

‘L- Let’s have a l- look at wh- what Mistress sent.’ From the side, the silver iPhone protected by a transparent case decorated with pastel pink paw prints is retrieved and the messenger app opened, my beautiful owner’s last message being the video meant for tonight.

One hand is already firmly wrapped around hardened heated skin once the recording commences, trying to control the throbbing a little longer. Already sets a cheeky slow pace at the first second showing a beloved bare body of which every inch has been kissed, especially on the days when everything felt futile. 

Speeding up a bit when interest is perked by a fuchsia and twilight purple wolf dildo and the alabaster mess between spread thighs.

‘Joonie~‘ Ears perk up at being called by a familiar beloved voice, breathing accelerating and curiously tilting chocolate milk locks in anticipation of what will follow. ‘You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you?’

A fake memory replays itself, repeating the moment of placing a wolf’s gratitude inside Mistress after tethering on the edge without being allowed to fall as nails etched beautiful long carmine trails over honey skin to mark territory. She looked more gorgeous than ever among the pale blue sheets, so much more wonderful than a common bitch.

And the mere thought of seeing it again fuels the growing and slowly becoming painful heat between muscled legs. 

‘I know you’re on your rut.’ Impatiently, the wanton hardened shape glides suggestively among the ivory sticky mess, wanting to act on primal desire again but also be a good pup and wait for consent. ‘And I wish I could be there to help you with it.’

‘B- But you a- are here, M- Mistress.’ The delirium already starts to take over fast as the pleasurable pace accelerates yet is not fast enough to completely lose control. The word would have to be given first for that to happen. A good pet waits and obeys, does not come undone before it is allowed. Nevertheless, that does not mean whimpering is not allowed. ‘Pl- Please, I wa- wanna fuck. Kn- Knot you.’

‘But let’s pretend I’m there with you.’

A familiar hand moves the artificial plaything, no, real heated sensual craving closer to where a thick unclear stream flows languidly to coat it in the fluid. ‘You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you? Rutting against my leg all day. Fucking needy.’

‘Y- Yeah.’ It could not be helped because to a barely human mind Mistress looked incredibly alluring and smelled so sweetly of summer figs. And a fortunate oversized clumsy cub was allowed to indulge in the temptation. ‘You l- look so pr- pretty.’

Feeling impatiently brave, an attempt is made at a bodily connection without being given explicit consent. However, the start is quickly nullified and punished with a firm squeeze below that coaxes out a whine hanging somewhere between pain and delight. ‘Bad boy. Did I say you could put your thick throbbing cock in?’

Lips purse into a pout, ears flat against the scalp as a fluffy chocolate milk tail hangs low, speaking softly in apology. ‘N- No. S- Sorry, Mistress.’

‘So impatient.’ Again, all that is allowed is agonizingly teasing gliding among the mess already made, restraint becoming harder and harder to maintain. ‘Not even wanting to do foreplay.’

Slender fingertips move to the most sensitive part which is swollen in agitated red bordering on plum, reducing speech to simple-minded whining not very shy of wanton sobbing. ‘B- But you, ah, d- don’t like th- that. Al- Always, mhm, use j- just lube.’

‘Are you getting desperate, Joonie? Leaking?’ The mischievous palm moves away to give attention to parts left in neglect, a pleased smirk on the mouth kissed many times before in the way it wants. ‘Shit, look at those veins, how thick you are. You’re a big boy.’

‘Y- Yes!’ The mere sliding continues, edging a gradually fleeting soul further to the edge of ignorant bliss. Henceforth, only simply repeating is practically all that is possible in the way of talking. ‘I- I’m a b- big boy.’

‘We’ll use your cum as lube, Joonie. Now- What a shame.’

Nonetheless, consciousness is kicked off into the abyss anyway.

A disappointed sigh obviously stresses the severity of the made mistake. ‘You really can’t behave, can you? Bad boy.’

Luckily, a floating mind can come down rapidly enough to offer sincere apologies for the misbehaviour, trying to nuzzle the neck to strengthen the show of remorse but being denied to do so. ‘I- I’m sorry, Mistress. I di- didn’t, n- no, w- w- wait! I- I’m sen- sensitive. P- Please. G- Give me a- a- ah!’ 

A novel assault on the part which is the utmost susceptible to touch quickens breathing to short shallow breaths, nerves being forced into overdrive by the hurtful overload of contact. ‘I thought you’d be better than this, but it appears I have to teach you manners again.’ A thumb presses hard against the angry reddened skin, tail swishing in sensual panic. ‘I don’t care if you can’t handle it, you’re going to put your dick inside me and keep going until your knot makes my stomach bulge with cum. So, be a good wolf and... and- fuck, Namjoon~’

Accepting the punishment like a good pet, ignoring the pain of overstimulated nerves, the bodily spell is established again after being helped in lining up. Clearly to the delight of my pretty owner, who hums in breathless satisfaction. ‘Fuck, I’m clenching your hard thick cock. Feel your knot already forming, pressing against my pussy.’

The connection is exploited as much as possible, reaching the point of utmost hypnosis when seeing the lewd outline of sensual craving create a little bump in a soft stomach. And that could become so much more if the wishes caused by the rut are seen to fruition, but only if Mistress wants them to be as well, of course. ‘Wa- Wanna give you p- pups, em- empty inside.’

To worsen the chastisement and please the gorgeous woman beneath, hips snap at a rapid pace in the chase to a second shot of white ignorance. Tail high and swishing back and forth in sexual agitated delight, fluffy chocolate brownie ears perk up to zone in on the background noise accompanied by the symphony of skin on skin and barely audible praise mingled with gasps while expanding the mess already made. ‘Listen to that. How slick my pussy is with your thick cum inside. You’ll definitely make me pregnant.’

‘Y- You’d look even pr- prettier ca- carrying our children.’ The mere image of creating our own little pack drives the frenzy for release, imaging Y/N’s stomach rounded and beautiful breasts swollen with milk for our cubs. Finally, we would have something to proudly call our own. ‘I- I love you, lo- love you so so much.’

Determined irises suppressing the equal desperation for blissful blinding make contact, nails digging into the back of the neck and the pain adding to the pleasure of being the sole one for a gorgeous woman. For my pretty owner. ‘You gonna knot me again, Joonie? Make me your bitch, your only bitch?’

The rapid sweeping of the full tail signals being incredibly close to the long-chased climax, a wonderful state of being only the marvellous woman beneath can push her pet to. ‘Yes. Yes, yes! Y- You’re my, um, hmm, o- only bitch. The only, ah, o- one I wa- want.’

The only one I want to bring me to this point.

The only one I feel safe with.

Only her. 

‘Oh my God, oh my God! Joonie! Shit, it’s so big.’ Familiar locks throw themselves into the pillow as a wolf’s gratitude slides in, laughing breathlessly in a moment of selfish pride, ears perked up. After all, a cocoa and honey wolf is the sole being which is allowed to do this, to be more of a lover than Jisung. 

Make Mistress’s belly swell with cubs. 

‘God! Yeah, stretch me open, big boy. Mmm, good pup. Love your cum flowing out of my pussy, the way you make my stomach bulge. Shit~ I love your wolf cock.’

‘Y- Yours. I- I’m yours. Only y- yours.’ Teeth bite down on the bottom lip, the barely aware mind utterly mesmerized by the show of pleased satisfaction. ‘You l- look perfect, M- Mistress.’

For a few seconds, the world slowly begins to turn as breath is regained and composure restored. Happy giggles fill the silence, soft caresses gliding over muscled arms in the aftermath and soothing the impact of the spell when it is nullified. 

‘Fuck, look at how open you fucked me.’ Gaze wanders downward, humming bordering on whimpering at the sight. Richly and languidly, a thick alabaster stream flows between thighs, increasing the arousing mess between them. 

A finger hooks beneath the chin, forcing a lock of gazes. ‘You’ll solely do this to me, understood? As soon as I’m back from my holiday, you’ll actually use me again as your bitch for the remainder of your rut and the ones to come. Do I make myself clear?’

The view causes a loss for words so that frantic nodding will have to substitute the strength of a promise that cannot be formed vocally. ‘Y- Yes, Mistress.’

The mirage fades away with the dawning realization there are comments on the screen, cooing at the fantasy of a lonesome pup which has its paws covered in a sensual mess.

‘R- Right, she isn’t h- here. Heh, how st- stupid of m- me.’ Voice reduces to whimpering, feeling the torn open gap that will not be filled. Left behind in the heart forevermore, even as a farewell is said to viewers sitting distantly behind a screen. ‘I m- miss her. But sh- she’ll be back. M- Mistress always c- comes back. Thank you f- for your kind w- words and keeping m- me company. Paw kissies from Joonie! Bye bye!’

But it is all just a fantasy.

The camera is turned off. 

Just like the belief I shall ever be Y/N’s.

Fully.

Exclusively.

A pillow shielding a deepthroat cup is placed between muscled thighs.

And the preferred method of slightly healing the wounded part of a philosophical mind very easily twisted into a simple animal is given into.

The self-made noise mingling with the lewd sucking takes away the meaning of the burning tears streaming down. 

Because all we have is this unrequited cruelty.

A wolf pup and its owner.

The truth untold.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 18 (photograph)

Extra, extra, read all about it: someone’s about to fucking die. As they should, because who the hell honestly believes that Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard are straight anyway?

(ME1)

---

“Do you think either of them know they were seen yet?”

“Doubt it. Definitely explains the last name thing, though. How long do you think it's been?”

“Can't have been more than 5 years, they both did N7...”

Alistair was starting to get tired of people whispering. Didn't they know it was rude?

Ok, maybe his nerves were still a little frayed from the whole touch the Prothean beacon, figure out Saren is trying to kill everyone, become the first human Spectre thing. Nobody could blame him that he was a little cranky that morning as he left his office to get the Normandy where it needed to go. The fact it was actually his ship definitely didn't help either. After years of being enlisted or an officer, having free reign was... deeply uncomfortable.

He'd probably get over it, but... yeah it felt weird.

Still, even in his terrible mood it was impossible to miss the stares and the whispers from the crew whenever he walked by. Part of him had wondered if it was them gossiping about how he'd gotten the Normandy off Admiral Anderson, but... it didn't feel right. Professional whispering from the ranks was one thing, but this felt... oily. Salacious, maybe. Definitely something personal, which just amped up the gossip even more.

Now, had he been in a better mood, Alistair probably would have ignored it. The thing was, he wasn't. So he would have to be forgiven if he took a right when he should've gone straight and walked straight behind the two gossiping crew-mates. Neither of them noticed him, of course. He was quiet like that.

“What was that about N7?”

He shouldn't have enjoyed just how much air the two men cleared when they jumped out of their skins, but forgive him if he wasn't feeling just a little petty that morning. They were both 3 shades lighter as they turned to face him, and the sweat was really starting to pour down their faces. On his scale, he'd call that shit terrified.

Good.

“C-Commander Shepard, sir! W-we didn't see you there!”

He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. “Yes, that tends to happen when someone comes up from behind you. Now, to reiterate. What was that about N7? Have either of you been asked to join the training program? My congratulations if so, it's an honor even to be asked.”

He would know – he had it tattooed above his ass. And he definitely knew nobody on his ship was in active training at the moment. It was one of the perks that came with being the Normandy's CO. The other was getting to see moment like this transpire before him.

The larger of the two was sweating bullets as he tried to figure out what to say. “N-no... nothing like that, sir.”

“Just...” the words failed the smaller one. His face screwed up as he seemingly gave up whatever he was holding back. “How long have you been married to XO Shepard?”

…

Alistair blinked slowly. “What?”

If he hadn't known better... someone had just asked if he was married to his XO. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard, his best friend and probably the closest thing he had left to family.

What the entire fuck?

Big one rubbed the back of his neck as his face began to take color again. “It... was on the extranet a few days ago. Pictures of you two together. It implied that you two were married. We thought it would explain the shared last name and all...”

Alistair let a sigh leak from between his teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “A tabloid with nothing better to do, I assume.”

He let the pinch go, shaking his head. “Mind sending that site to me? I think I need to do some correction next time we dock at the Citadel.”

The two were already racing for their omni-tools, but he could tell the question still loomed in both their eyes. After all, he could just be trying to quash the story to keep his so-called marriage quiet. These crew, lovely as they were, didn't know he or his XO well enough yet.

Maybe that was why he rolled up his sleeve to expose his tattoo. “And by the way, I think this should clarify your questions.”

He tapped the wing colored in the gay pride flag for emphasis. The other, shaded in trans pride, went without saying. Years later, he was still glad he had gotten it during pride, even if it had been somewhat of a spur of the moment choice. Ironically enough, he had gotten it with Bo – she had the lesbian colors around her ankle.

You know, because she was a fucking lesbian and he was gay as hell.

“O-oh... yeah I guess it would.” Someone's face was turning red. “Sorry, Commander...”

“Just don't spread it around anymore.” Down went his sleeve. “Now, I'm going to go see where this website is hosted...”

With that he left them, the details blooming to life on his omni-tool screen. Once they got back to the Citadel, he and Bo were going to have to take a little trip...

---

“I'm going to murder them when I get my hands on them.”

“Don't worry, I won't stop you.”

The port hissed as Bo and Alistair left the Normandy's decontamination lock and entered the Citadel docking bay. It had been a few days since the discovery on ship, and now they were at the heart of the matter. Someone was about to get their clock cleaned, and it wasn't going to be mechanically.

'Don't forget ,you two, you don't have to testify against each other in court since you're married and all~!'

Al shot a glare back at the Normandy as he pressed the communicator in his ear. “Joker-”

'Just kidding, commanders. I know what teams you two play for. I guess we'll know you found them when we see the blood spurting.'

“You better fucking believe it.” Bo's eyes were practically glowing with hostility as she stomped down the walkway that connected their ship to the dock. Around them hummed the activity of the Citadel proper. Ships sailed above their heads, people went about their business... and somewhere, a tabloid was about to get the unholy shit kicked out of it.

Alistair checked the details on his omni-tool as they began to walk. “I traced the website's ISP to a building in the Wards. Chances are, they're there.”

“If not, they're going to tell us where the fuck they are.” Her knuckles were white as she slammed them together. “Damn straights and their height kink. How the hell could anyone think I was straight?”

Yeah, that was his question – she was built like a tank and had pink hair. How the hell could anyone read that as straight?

“I mean, they thought I was straight somehow, so they don't have a great judge of character.” Alistair tapped at his omni-tool. “It would be faster if we got a taxi, but walking is an option too. Up to you honestly.”

Bo didn't answer him. He realized why once he figured out he had lost his handy patch of shade. The other Spectre had left him in order to go storm over to a nearby newsstand where people were whispering. Given a few were running...

Well, he ran over to make sure nobody died.

“I can't fucking believe this!”

She pounded her fist on the counter, and Alistair felt like doing the same once he saw it. A new story had popped up, front cover with a picture that definitely wasn't photoshopped. Bo was front and center, chatting with a rather lovely lady. Anyone who could read body language could guess the two were probably flirting, which is probably why someone had been so quick to take it. Above the photo, a bold headline proclaimed “Commander Shepard: Newlywed in Bisexual Affair?”

Oh boy... whoever took that was a dead man.

Bo rounded on him, fire in her eyes. “Taxi. Now.”

Alistair didn't need to be told twice – they were soon in the back of a cab, headed towards the Wards. To say a burning silence fell over the back was putting it mildly. Bo was gearing up to kill someone, and he... well he didn't want to be next in the tabloid.

The cab driver unfortunately didn't have the sense God gave to rocks as he surveyed the two. “Trouble in paradise, huh? Well, there's always divorce court.”

Alistair grabbed for Bo before she could crash the cab. “We're actually going to clear up we're not married!”

“Ah, that's a shame. You two make a cute couple, being the first two Spectres and all. You could've made some wicked strong biotic kids.”

“Sir when I tell you I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now, please believe me and keep driving.”

By the time they were dropped off in the Wards, Alistair was pretty sure he had lost 10 pounds keeping the cab driver alive. His arms were killing him as they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of a nondescript office building. It had a listing on the side, telling the different businesses inside. Their next stop was on the fourth floor... so if anyone got tossed out of a window, they would probably live.

“Alright, so let's figure out what we're-”

He didn't get to finish his statement. Bo was already walking in like a woman on a mission, leaving him in the dust. All he could do was chase after her, eventually catching up on the stairs to the second floor. All the while, a receptionist chased after them.

“Excuse me, you can't just-”

Bo turned back to face her dead on. “Spectre business.”

Their tail shook a little, but... Al was pretty sure it was because she was kind of into that. She was definitely blushing a little as she backed up. “R-right... fourth floor is what you're looking for, ma'am.”

Alistair sighed as he held up his hand in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, we'll be done quickly. Thank you for your information.”

And then he was chasing after Bo again as she took the stairs two at a time. Before long, they were standing on the fourth floor's landing. There was only one door here, labeled with a sign that called themselves Citadel Daily. They were one of many tabloids that supplied the Presidium and Wards with the lack of news people loved, and no doubt they were one of the more popular ones. After all, they were creating quite the buzz about humanity's first two Spectres.

A buzz that was about to be repaid with a lot of violence if he didn't mediate.

He managed to grab her wrist before they went in. “Let's just... try talking first.”

“It's not you they're calling a cheat, Al.” She tugged her arm away. “I'm handling this my way.”

And then she pushed the door open, probably burying the knob in the wall. All motion stopped on the other side as she stormed into the room, coming to a stop at the heart of it. All Alistair could do was enter after her pulling the door out of the wall as he did. Yep... the handle went straight through. That was going to require a patch.

Bo glared at the room filled with desks and people. Someone was reaching for a camera, a device that abruptly died as her eyes glowed red. She might not have been good with technology, but she knew how to break it just fine. No more devices came out after that – they were smart.

“I'm only going to say this one, who the fuck is John Jacobs and when are they getting the fuck out?”

Nobody moved at first. Alistair could hardly blame them as he scanned the room. Mostly, he just saw shocked wanna-be journalists and gossip columnists who had never expected this kind of treatment. After all, they weren't printing anything particularly hard hitting. Of course, their mistake had been printing about the Shepards... which was a bad idea to say the least.

He spotted someone twitching in the corner of the room. Rather than alert Bo, he began to pick his way over. Nobody would look at him, but that was fine. He had his eye on the man trying to hide behind his desktop, looking at though he might piss himself.

And as he should – from the looks of things, he was working on his latest article.

“'Commander Shepard spotted coming out of a bar with-'” He shook his head, sighing. “Mr. Jacobs, if you were even half a journalist you would know I can't drink on my medication. That's just sloppy work right there.”

The man definitely pissed himself as he backed up in his seat. “C-Commander Shepard!”

“One of them, anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Bo, found him.”

Maybe that was mean, but the photoshop job on that picture had been particularly atrocious. So maybe he didn't feel bad that hell on wheels was storming over, ready to put her fist straight through this guy's head. At least he'd stop it if it came to murder...

Maybe.

Bo came to a stop in front of the desk. His desktop fizzed and died as she loomed over him. Alistair definitely smelled piss and something else as the full weight of his crimes fell upon him. And of course, nobody was dumb enough to take pictures. After all, they were Spectres and about ready to prove what happened if you tried to smear them.

Though... was it actually a smear if they did make this guy's life a living hell?

“John Jacobs?”

His answer came out shaky. “Y-Yes, that's me. I didn't expect the story to get so big, b-but-”

Too late. He was already out of his seat by the collar of his garish shirt. Bo had him at eye level, and Al was there to avoid the pants region as he watched the carnage unfold. Someone nearby had a camera up  - a blue-eyed gaze quickly put a stop to that. Bo wasn't the only one who knew how to break technology.

“What the fuck was going through your demented little fucking head?” She brought him closer. “You got some kind of height kink, you nasty fuck?”

John was sweating bullets. “N-no! I just... a lot of people think you two are married! It's the same last names!”

Yeah, Alistair was doubting the lack of height kink, but at least he was trying to be honest. He was still probably going to get the shit beaten out of him, though. He kind of deserved it, what with insinuating they were not only married but... ugh...  straight.

Really, how the hell did anyone think that of them?

Bo's eyes said murder and her fists were willing to comply. “Let me put it to you this way, that receptionist down there is more my type than this manlet will ever be.”

“Hey, I'm a maligned party too, don't take out your frustration on me.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck anyway – talking about his height was a sensitive subject. “Anyway, we're very clearly not married.”

“Or straight.”

He nodded. “Or straight, yes that's kind of important. So maybe you should print a retraction on those articles and apologize so you don't get thrown out a window. You'd probably survive, but it would sure hurt a lot regardless.”

Judging by the grip on his collar, he wasn't going to get out of this without some form of damage... but maybe they could keep him from getting tossed out a window. Besides, if he pissed himself anymore he was going to start leaking on the floor. Talk about gross.

John's eyes traveled from Shepard to Shepard. “T-this is cen-”

“Oh come the fuck on, she's ready to murder you do you really wanna complain about censorship? Read the room, man.”

Normally, Alistair didn't swear. However, this man clearly didn't have sense in his head, so maybe shock methods were needed. At least he shut his mouth that time as he thought the offer over. Maybe he should think a little faster.

Bo started to move to the window. “Well, he had his chance.”

“No, wait, stop!” Both his fists couldn't fit around her wrist. “I'll print the retraction!”

She stopped a few feet from the open window. “And you'll stop writing about us. No more Shepard stories, understood?”

He started to look like he wanted to argue, but... that window was pretty damn close. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he considered his options. Then he got inched a little closer, and the decision was clearly made.

“U-Understood... I won't print anymore.”

And then he was dropped to the floor in a sad, soggy heap. Bo wheeled around and glared at the entire room. Alistair stepped forward as well, feeling much more pleasant as he surveyed the terrified reporters sitting before him.

“I hope you all understand, that goes for anyone here. Nobody gets a free pass out of defenestration, understood?”

And then his eyes glowed as another camera died. “No story about this either, by the way. I've added you guys to my omni-tool news feed, so don't think just because we're off saving people that we won't hear about it.”

Given everyone else looked like they might need a change of underwear once they left, that was another pact sealed. With any luck, they wouldn't get too stupid about their stories. Of course, if they did... it wasn't like they were going to move buildings.

“Good talk.” Bo was already throwing the door open. “Let's get the fuck out of here, it smells like piss.”

Alistair was already following her out, sighing in relief as the door shut behind them. At least nobody had died, or even been really bodily harmed in the process. As far as missions went, this was one of their more successful ones.

Then again, Bo hadn't gotten to work her frustration out, so...

“Want to hit up the Alliance training course to work out that energy before we go see Anderson?”

“Fuck yes.” Bo was already heading in that direction. “I still should've thrown him out the window. Damn your sensibilities.”

Eh he could take her being mad at him if it meant nobody died. Dissatisfaction was part of being a commanding officer.

---

Retraction on previous stories concerning Commander Bo Peep Shepard and Commander Alistair Shepard

The Citadel Daily would like to publish a retraction towards two stories it printed. Along with this, we extend a heartfelt apology to-

“Well, I guess they got the message.”

Joker was chuckling as the message read over Alistair's omni-tool. All three were gathered in the cockpit a few days later, after a successful mission on a nearby planet. The news had come in as they were on the shuttle, and he had been waiting to listen.

Bo nodded as the message finished. “They fucking better... still don't know who took those damn pictures. They're lucky I didn't find them...”

Alistair nodded as he killed the feed. “Oh, speaking of. Turns out they're a freelancer. I think I have a beat on them-”

No doubt he was starting another hunt for some poor sap, but... well, again, he didn't feel bad. After all, they had thought he was straight. Someone had to pay for that grievous misstep. And with any luck, maybe this one wouldn't wind up out a window either.

You know, maybe being the CO wasn't so bad after all. He got to schedule time for defenestration duties. Talk about a perk of running the show...

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter promts: 100 with ot4!! (mayb 2 double beds so they have room yknow)

I went with fluff rather than smut with this one, so there are references to sex but the fic is SFW. For context, Stern in this universe has a lot of anxiety around belonging somewhere.

100 from this list: The b&b we’re at asked if we wouldn’t mind sharing a room since we know each other and this snow storm has brought in some unexpected guests...one bed...three nights...

“I’m so sorry, sir.” The harried looking young woman behind the desk looks between Stern and Barclay, “between the blizzard and it already being New Years weekend, we’ve had to take in a few more people than expected.”

“So our room’s been given to someone else?” Stern puts on his professional demeanor, the one he uses to soothe tourists who’ve definitely seen something they shouldn’t

“Yes, unfortunately. The, the only room we have left is the cottage in the back. It sleeps four, but we can’t guarantee you wouldn’t have to share with another couple.”

“Uh, ‘scuse me, miss, but I think we can make that work.” Duck Newton steps around Barclay, Indrid busy looking over the many brochures on the far wall, “you see, my friend and I’d more than willing to bunk with these two, since they’re friends from back home. Assumin that’s alright with them?”

“Of course.” Stern smiles.

“Oh, thank you, thank you all for being so accommodating. And I’m sorry again about the inconvenience.”

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

“Well, that went better than expected.” Stern sets down his duffel bag on one of the two beds. 

“You’re tellin me, this is way easier than bookin the two next to each other and sneakin back and forth.”

“Yeah, had my fill of sneaking around.” Barclay adds, evaluating the small kitchen. 

“I mean, unless one of the other guests took a rather blurry photo of you, it’d be better than your previous attempts to ‘sneak’” Indrid is finally down unwrapping himself down to his sweatpants and the pink and yellow sweater Duck bought him. 

“You’re on to talk stealth, mr. my-pants-say-mothman-on-the-ass.” Barclay grabs said ass, making Indrid squeak.

“I am wearing them ironically.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Duck, meanwhile, flops down on the bed where Stern is unpacking.

“Jesus, darlin, how many books did you bring?”

“Three. When Indrid said there’d likely be a blizzard, I assumed that would cut down on our outdoor activities. And cable is so atrocious these days.”

“So…” Duck tugs the front of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss, “you really can’t think of another thing we’d be doin to stay out of the cold?”

“Duck, we can’t do that for three days straight.”

“You sayin you opposed to tryin?”

“I’m saying” Stern puts away the last of his clothing, “that I am a mortal man, and three days of non-stop fucking would probably kill me.”

“Hey, we’d stop some. Gotta eat, and sleep too. Probably throw in a few showers. Unless what does it for you is the smell of a bunch of sweaty dudes.”

Stern wrinkles his nose, and Duck laughs. 

“Oooh!” Indrid steps into the room, clapping his hands excitedly, “I’m going to take a bath.” He swings the bathroom door open, revealing a tub. It occurs to Stern, as the skinnier man strips down without delay, that none of them even bothered asking how Indrid knew the tub was there. 

Stern never thought he’d be around them long enough to get used to his boyfriend always being a bit ahead of him. 

He heads back into the main room of the cottage, finds Barclay unloading groceries. 

“Glad we stocked up before we left. Think trying to get the car down to that grocery store we passed would be impossible. I have had enough car-based hijinks for one lifetime, don’t need to add doing Icecapades in a Jeep to the list.”

“Car based hijinks?’

“Long story.” Barclay turns, offering his hand, “c’mon, agent, haven’t gotten to hold you nearly enough today.” The larger man stretches out on the couch, Stern laying so he’s cuddled against his chest.

A chirp-moan splashes out of the bathroom. 

“Guess Indrid’s got company.” Barclay chuckles. Another chirp, this one more of a trill, and Barclays legs shift as if he’s hiding something. Stern has a good guess as to what.

“Feeling the need to join them? I know you get wound up when Indrid makes sounds like that.” He traces a finger along the blue lines of Barclays plaid shirt. 

“Nah, not right now. Right now, kinda enjoying being all warm and cozy with the best thing to ever come out of the FBI in my arms.”

Stern snorts, kisses his chest. Let’s his mind wander like a cat searching for a sunny spot as intermittent moans continue reaching them. 

“Wait…there was a report from the 90s that I always thought was absurd. Something about Bigfoot stealing someone’s car. But the location, the timeline…”

“Uhhhh.”

“Oh my LORD, why would you steal a car?”

“Things got out of hand! Quickly.” Barclay regales him with the story, Stern doing his best to look affronted at the reckless behavior but tipping quickly into pure amusement. 

Barclay eventually coaxes Stern off of him so he can go ask the kitchen in the main B&B if they have cumin. Stern wanders into the bedroom and finds a now mothed-out Indrid falling asleep with Duck in his arms. The Sylph lifts the wing resting atop the human, an offer for Stern to join them. He does, looping his arms around Duck as the wing gently returns to its role as blanket. 

“You know” Indrid murmurs, “one of these days I ought to make you all moth disguises, just so I can see what all the fuss is about.”

“That could be a fascinating exercise.” Stern whispers.

“Hell yeah.” Duck wiggles in Sterns embrace “Mothman cuddles.”

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

Stern wakes up alone, though someone has thoughtfully draped a blanket over him. As he rouses, voices drift in from the living room. 

“Do you think he knows?”

“Judging by the futures, no.”

“Please tell me we’re tellin him soon. If I end up havin to try to lie about this it’s gonna go bad.”

Hmmmm, that is not the kind of conversation one wants to overhear their boyfriends having in hushed tones. 

He yawns exaggeratedly, assuming that will bring a hush over the trio. 

Instead, it brings a certain ranger right on top of him. Duck kisses him, smiling as he does, and all Sterns worries evaporate. 

“Perfect timin’, darlin, dinner’s almost ready.” 

“I’d love to join you all, but it appears I’m being attacked by a bear.” He smirks. Duck growls playfully, bending down to drag a rough kiss up his neck. Stern retaliates by placing a hickey on the first exposed patch of skin he sees. 

“You two are welcome to continue in that direction, but be warned I will eat any cheesecake not claimed in the next five minutes.”

“Indrid, that’s for dessert!”

“I reject such arbitrary notions of EEEEEEEP”

“Come on” Stern sits up, Duck coming with him, “let’s go make sure Indrids glasses don’t come off from Barclay throwing him over his shoulder. Again.”

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

“The methodology in this show is truly abhorrent.” Stern rests his head on Ducks belly, the two watching one of the dozen ghost hunting shows airing on the Discovery Channel.

“No kiddin’. Also, these fellas startle so easy they’re doin a better job scarin themselves than any ghost could.”

Duck strokes his hair and he sighs, nuzzles at the slip of skin that’s showing between his boxers and white t-shirt. The boxers only went back on about ten minutes prior, as Stern had been seized with a desperate need to unhurriedly and lovingly suck his boyfriend off, fingers teasing and squeezing the thighs he so adores. 

The front door creaks open and whines closed, Barclay and Indrid walking in arm in arm. 

“Did you have a nice walk?”

“Indeed.” Indrid’s face is school-girl shy. 

“You’re blushin, ‘Drid.” Duck teases, before sitting up so animatedly that Sterns rolls to land facedown in his lap with an “oof.” 

“Holy shit, Barclay, did you work some kind of magic shit to make him willin’ to have sex in the snow? Because that’s fuckin impressive.”

“No, I am merely feeling a bit nostalgic.” Indrid unzips the first of his three outer layers. 

“The first time Indrid and I met was in the middle of a really, really bad winter.” Barclay sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing Sterns legs gently as he talks, “Uh, is it gonna weird either of you out to hear this?”

“No.” Stern reaches out to squeeze Barclays hand once, before returning it to rest comfortable on Ducks knee. 

“Nope. Gotta admit, been kinda curious about it ever since you first mentioned y’all had fucked around when you were younger.”

“Well, long story short, I was in a trailer park, renting a little spot while I tried to sort shit out. One night, I kept hearing noises I recognized as being from another Sylph. And whoever was making them sounded real upset. So I trudged out in my pajamas and followed the noise to this other trailer. Poked my head in and there was Indrid, looking sad as could be. And, y’know, like a giant fucking moth.”

“I was busy feeling sorry for myself and was therefore not watching the futures. It was startling to suddenly have a human in my space. At least until you took off you, hmmm, what was it then?”

“I think it was a ring. Anyway, once we were on the same page, Indrid just kind of started, uh-”

“You can say babbling. It’s an accurate portrayal. I was lonely, I’d been having a run of bad visions, and I’d found myself more homesick than made sense.”

“Aw, ‘Drid.” Duck opens his arm and the Sylph slips under it, Barclay scooching closer as well.

“I was also, shall we say, dealing with an unexpected spike in my arousal levels, almost like a heat. So I was craving touch and connection. I must have been a sight.”

“Yeah” Barclay rumbles, “a real cute one. Little moth.”

Indrid chirrs bashfully, pressing his face into the crook of Ducks neck.

“Anyway, ended up spending the next few days together. Bumped into each other a few times after that, but nothing could ever top finding him that first night.” Barclay smiles at his fellow Sylph, who continues making charming chirrs. After a moment, Indrid lifts his glasses, smiling at the trio. It starts off sweet, moves to wicked as he finishes his question.

“As I sense that’s brought a, ah, romantic air to the evening; would anyone care to help me push the beds together?”

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

Stern is about to be broken up with. He can tell. 

That morning he’d awoken with Indrid still snuggled up around him, purring softly, but when he stepped into the kitchen he’s certain Duck and Barclay had switched to an innocent topic at normal volume, rather than the whispers they’d been making before. 

Later, as they’re lounging about by the little bot-bellied stove, reading (or, in Indrid’s case, drawing), he noticed the pale-haired man taking care to not let him see certain pages. 

But truly, the most damning fact is that Stern has never had a relationship last more than a year, no matter how well it seemed to be going. And no matter how much logic he applies to the situation (Duck murmuring filthy suggestions for that night into his ear, Barclay kissing him any time he walked past, Indrid pulling him into the bedroom for a vigorous bout of sex), he cant stop thinking that the end has come. Patterns are patterns, and while he knows that’s a tautology, he can’t help feeling it offers some unshakeable truth.

It’s the early evening when Barclay, coming up behind him for a hug, says, “Damn, babe, your back is all knotted up.”

“It must be from the cold.” He replies, sighing when Barclay nuzzles his cheek.

“If you need to shake the chill, I found that bath yesterday quite helpful.” Indrid lilts.

And so Stern draws himself a bath and settles in with the “champagne” scented bubble bath provided by their hosts. How very seasonal.

Maybe they won’t do it until after the all return to the lodge. That makes the most sense, as it won’t ruin anybody’s trip. If that’s the case, maybe he ought to savor this last little bit of bliss. 

He does feel a little better after the bath, though he’s now covered in a faintly sugary smell that’s far better suited to Indrid than him. He pulls on one of the fluffy robes, heads into the main room to see if dinner is ready.

“SURPRISE!”

“JESUS!” He jumps, unprepared for the sight of his boyfriends standing around the table, at the center of which sits a cake and...are those fondue pots?

Hanging on the table is a banner, obviously handmade, that reads, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Anniversary?” He looks at the others, perplexed. 

“Little delayed, on account of we thought it’d be more fun to wait and do it now. And, uh, you had to fly back to D.C the actual week.” Duck says, stifling the giggles he got from Sterns surprised outburst, “but it’s the one year anniversary of when you turned up in Kepler. Kinda. And we wanted to celebrate you comin into our lives, even if it scared the livin hell out of us--you okay, city mouse?” Duck’s face falling is the last thing Stern sees before his head collapses into his hands, his built up dread pushing out of his body in shuddery gasps. 

Barclay’s arms are around him in an instant, “Hey, babe, hey, it’s alright. We’re so fucking glad you turned up.”

“It’s, it’s not that.”

“Oh dear.” 

He glances over Barclay’s shoulder, sees Indrid coming out of a peek at the futures.

“Oh pet, did you really think all the secrecy was because we were going to leave you?”

“Wait, what?” Ducks glances at Indrid, who nods, “Joe, we’re crazy about you. Hell, Barclay was flirtin with you even when he thought you might put him in area 51 or some shit.”

“I, I know. It, it seems silly in retrospect but unfortunately my track record is a bit bleak. I once had a date I’d been seeing casually for six months sneak out the bathroom window while we were out to dinner. Never heard from him again. Another called me up the day after I got accepted into the UP and said we could never see each other again. We’d been fine two days before.”

“Yeeesh” Barclay kisses his forehead, “can see why you got jumpy.”

“Even so, I’m afraid I let my anxiety drive more than I should have. I’m sorry”

“Unnecessary apology accepted.” Indrid teases, pulling out a chair, “come, Barclay’s been having to beat me off with a stick the entire time he was making that red velvet cake and my patience is waning.”

“You didn’t mind the spatula to the ass.”

Indrid chirps, mock affronted, and Duck snickers, settling across from Indrid as Stern and Barclay take their seats. 

“Only you could manage fondue in a rental cottage.” Stern smiles fondly at the cook. 

“I’ve got like, a dozen fondue sets. Jake keeps giving them to me at the holidays. I’m not sure if it’s a joke, or if he just forgets he’s gotten me that before. This year he put Hollis’s name on it too.”

“That...explains the color palette.” Stern grabs one of the black skewers from the yellow pot. To his side he sees Indrid set his hand out on the table, Duck’s coming to rest in it automatically, as if the two were made for each other. 

“Hold up” Duck uses his free hand to lift his glass, “wanna make a toast. Here’s to makin it through the end of the world, to findin each other even if the mess of monster-huntin that was our lives and” he grins at Stern, “here’s to the fact no one could lie well enough to keep you from stayin at the lodge.”

Stern raises his glass and clinks it with the others, smiling back as he murmurs, “cheers.”

[lafiametta]

A small and private place

So a while back, @arcticelves sent me this fantastic two-ship prompt — “Peglar catches Little and Jopson making out without their knowledge. He rushes eagerly to Erebus to tell Bridgens” — and I’ve only now realized what to do with it. I hope she can forgive me for getting a touch carried away... ;) 

Fair warning: some racier content below the cut.

Work on the Carnivale tent proceeded quickly: the men were in high spirits, eagerly awaiting the following night’s celebration, and needed little goading to assist each other in all that remained to be done.

Henry found himself among a group of ABs from Erebus tasked with painting designs onto the canvas walls. Admittedly, had no real talent for such fancies, but he took to his role with enthusiasm, swirling clouds of unblemished white across wide blue skies, smudging verdant green patches meant to resemble boughs along the spindly limbs of trees. From time to time, he would briefly glance over to the other end of the tent where John was duly occupied in assisting Mr. Diggle in the reassembly of his stove, warm with anticipation for the moment when they would both be free to enjoy the festivities together. Plied by enough grog, he recalled, John’s cheeks would turn delectably pink; under its influence might he be persuaded to share in a dance or two — or to follow Henry to a quiet, more secluded corner of the tent?

He was in such a buoyant mood that he did not even mind when Mr. Des Voeux gave orders for him to return to Terror and bring back a larger supply of rope, as they were running low and had already exhausted all the stores brought from Erebus. Just a few lengths would do the trick, the mate told him. He would not even need to take the sled.

So unencumbered, he made the trek in less than half an hour, at one point spotting in the distance a small party on their way from the flagship to the Carnivale site. He waved and they returned his greeting, lanterns beckoning as pinpricks of light in the darkness. 

Once aboard Terror, Henry quickly explained his errand to the men on duty and then made straight for the hatch, eager for the relative warmth of the ship. Aside from sickbay, the lower deck was almost entirely empty, most of its inhabitants either on watch above or busy with the construction of the tent, and he expected the orlop to be similarly deserted. The spare rope, he remembered, had been left just outside the sail room, looped into neat coils, and so he did not bother to bring his lantern with him as he carefully trod down the ladderway, the rough groan of the ice masking each of his steps. 

Skirting around stacks of crated provisions, he found his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the orlop far more easily than expected — until he realized that a small lantern had been left on the floor, softly illuminating the space around it. He was just about to call out, to ask who was there, when he heard a strange muffled sound, like a noise being made and silenced all at once. Taking several curious steps forward, he turned around a tall stack of crates, only to stop silently in his tracks, astonished at what he saw in the faint outlines of the light. 

Pressed up against the door of the slop room were two men, the last Henry would have ever expected to find in such a compromising position. 

It was Lieutenant Little and the captain’s steward, Mr. Jopson. 

He jumped back and quickly shielded himself behind the crates, praying that he had not been seen. Fortunately neither had appeared to notice him — rather, all of their attention remained entirely on each other as their lips met, again and again, with a kind of frenzied hunger that, before this moment, he would not have dared to associate with either man. The lieutenant — so cautious and outwardly reserved — had never struck him as one easily given over to passion, and even Mr. Jopson, for all his solicitousness, seemed perpetually careful to keep within the strict bounds of propriety. 

And yet judging from the way their bodies slotted against each other, hands desperately clutching at collars and waistcoats, propriety seemed to be the furthest thing from their thoughts. 

He stilled, knowing he had to find some way to slip away unseen, yet terrified that any movement on his part might easily lead to discovery. It betrayed all logic — in the eyes of command, they were the ones committing a wrong, not him — but it still felt as if he had stumbled into something entirely private, never meant for him and certainly not for the ears of command. 

A low moan spilled into the frigid air — from which man he could not tell — followed by a breathless reply. Despite every self-admonishment, Henry could not help himself, peeking just past the crates so he could catch another glimpse of them. 

By now, hands had migrated lower, skimming across the front of trousers, mouths still meeting while pale, nimble fingers began to search for buttons concealed along the thick wool fabric. There was not much to see in the shadows of the half-light; regardless, his breath began to turn heavy, for he knew exactly what was happening as they reached for each other, slipping past trousers and drawers until the prizes they sought were finally found. Both men gasped, hips bucking forward while their bodies pressed closer, quickly moving in a relentless and impatient rhythm. 

It was impossible for him to continue and yet Henry could not look away, blood surging hot in his veins while he watched the two men bring each other closer and closer to satisfaction. And how could he have possibly predicted what happened next, as Lieutenant Little suddenly dropped to his knees and drew the steward into his mouth, an act Henry would have more easily associated with a particular stripe of dockside trull than a senior officer in Her Majesty’s navy?

Mr. Jopson let his eyes fall closed, head leaning back against the slop room door, his hand coming to rest along the lieutenant’s dark hair. “Edward,” he breathed, just loud enough for Henry to hear across the orlop, “oh — please, I need... please...”

It was far too much for Henry, the icy air around him growing far too warm, shame coursing through him as his own desire stirred to life within his loins. He turned away, the sight of the two men no longer filling his vision, but he could still hear them, the small desperate sounds of their coupling. With every stifled groan and rustle of fabric, he willed himself to remain motionless, to keep from slipping his hand down to ease some of the rough ache at the front of his trousers, even though the temptation grew stronger with each passing moment.

And when the steward began to plead incoherently — for what, it was difficult to tell — Henry could not help but imagine himself in Mr. Jopson’s position, not with the lieutenant of course, but with John. How might it feel to be surrounded by the warm, willing depths of John’s mouth, to be feasted upon by lips and tongue and teeth? And what if he himself were to play the lieutenant’s part, Henry wondered, biting against his lip to distract from the fiery torment of his own need — would the sensation of another man be too foreign or would he take to it with pleasure, as happy to be on his knees as Lieutenant Little was? 

His thoughts grew so intoxicating, urging him toward even greater heights of fantasy, that he did not immediately realize that the orlop had grown quiet, both men clearly having muffled their final sounds of passion. There was only the sound of their breath, slowly returning to its regular rhythm, and the sweep of clothing as it was straightened back into place. They kissed once more — a fleeting brush of the lips — and then departed up the ladderway, just one at first and the other following after a respectable pause. 

Henry quietly exhaled, glancing up and down the orlop to reassure himself that he was now entirely alone. They had taken the lantern, leaving him in the darkness. For a moment he stood, still unsure of what to do with what he had just discovered — for this was undoubtedly not the first time that the two men had met in secret — until he remembered his original errand and why he had been sent to Terror in the first place. Gathering up several armfuls of rope, he made his way back up to the deck, heartily relieved to catch sight of neither the lieutenant nor the steward as he did so. 

The air outside was bracingly cold, a welcome balm for his overheated, tightly-wound body, and as he trudged the distance back to the Carnivale tent, he found his thoughts had likewise solidified into something resembling coherence. Lieutenant Little and Mr. Jopson were good men; they deserved to have their secret kept safe. And so he would share what he had witnessed in the orlop with no one, not even John. 

It would not stop him, however, from pulling John aside during the celebration and from there finding some small and private place where they might try to reenact what he had seen. Henry smiled and began to walk with greater haste, his thoughts now entirely on the night to come. 

[welshdragonrawr]

1. Ring (or Say You Will, Say You Will)

So, this took longer than promised, because what was originally a 300 word draft/drabble turned into a 3k word fic. Anyone who knows how I write knows I get carried away. I won’t say much more as this one kinda all speaks for itself. But I hope you enjoy.

To find/read at A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163646/chapters/50372594

Say You Will, Say You Will

The plan had gone so right to begin with so where had it gone wrong? Getting everyone else on board had been almost even easier than Misty had anticipated. Once Queenie had found out what she had been up to when she had caught the swamp witch all-too-eagerly trying to stuff something out of sight in a drawer in her room, the whispered word soon spread pretty quickly. Rather than rat her out like she feared some might do, it turned out that most of her magic peers were eager to help in her endeavour, trying to give Cordelia false leads and practised lines and red herrings whenever the Supreme seemed to catch a whiff that something was going on without her knowledge. Knowing young girls could be all manner of curious and conniving, Cordelia often gave the majority of her students the benefit of the doubt that as long as they weren’t doing anything dangerous or destructive then she could trust them. With the Supreme so lately caught up with work demands and all the help Misty had garnered, she thought that things just might go according to plan after all.

“How much longer are you gonna draw this out, Swampy? You getting cold feet or something already? For all our sakes why don’t you just get on with it already.” Madison – who had been a surprisingly amiable accomplice also, though she would vehemently deny that very fact if anyone tried to say so – had caught the swamp witch in passing in the corridor.

“Not yet. Just a couple more days. It’s all going according to plan!” Misty had whispered excitedly back, aware of the headmistress’ shockingly good hearing when it came to her students meddling in anything. Still, admittedly nervous for said plan, Misty had rushed to her most recent hiding spot in order to check…

If all had been going to plan, it wasn’t after that. She searched high and low, with no sign and ever increasing concern. To make matters worse, whilst she was crawling through yet another messy pile of chiffon, cotton and silk she had tossed out of drawers all over the floor in her ever-maddening search, one of the younger students had turned up at her door claiming Cordelia was asking for her. Of course it had to be right then whilst she was in the middle of this…

She asked the student if they knew what the Supreme wanted her for but the young girl just seemed to shrug her shoulders and say that whatever it was she sounded serious. Well that didn’t sound good to Misty’s ears.

So that was how the swamp witch had ended up tentatively standing outside the Supreme’s closed office door, knocking lightly on the wood and waiting for that sweet soft voice to call from inside for her to come in.

“Heard you wanted to see me?” Misty asked tentatively as she slipped into the office as quietly as her bare feet would allow. Cordelia had long since given up on trying to convince her to wear shoes more often, especially during these warmer months. Her mind had more of a tendency to change come winter.

“Yes, Misty, please, have a seat,” the Supreme said, barely glancing up from the plethora of papers over the desk, though never one to shy away from verbal politeness even in casual conversation. It somehow made the tension of the moment even more unsettling for the swamp witch. She felt every bit the foolish child called to the headmistress’ office for a bad deed, literally. Misty did as she was told, sliding into one of the simple chairs positioned opposite. The usual stack of stationery and ‘Supreme things’ as Misty had once so aptly dubbed everything vaguely dull and administration-related once before, covered most of the space of the desktop. Aside from a cleared space on the centre, in which sat a small box. Not wanting to say anything that might incriminate her before any announcements, Misty sat quietly – albeit impatiently – waiting for the cue from Cordelia that they could talk. Just as her own fingers found the hem of her shawl to fiddle with, she heard the distinct click of Cordelia closing the pen cap and propping it on the tabletop just as the swamp witch chose then to look back up at her.

Brown eyes and blue both dropped to the box. It seemed pretty plain and inconspicuous from the outside. A pretty but simple walnut wood, not even much of a distinct pattern to it besides the standard knots and graining under the polish. Except Misty knew that what was inside was not inconspicuous at all. After all, it was precisely what she had spent the last few hours looking for. And presumably, before this, before calling misty in for this inquisition over its contents, Cordelia would have already looked inside to see just what was in it too. The pause between them, before either of them spoke, seemed to go on a second too long for Misty’s comfort. She would have been tempted to break it first, had she known exactly what to say. She could only wait for whatever Cordelia’s reaction would be. After what seemed like an intense eternity for Misty – and for someone who had been dead too many times to count and encountered a couple of kinds of eternity in that time, that was not phrasing it lightly – Cordelia finally spoke.

“So,” the Supreme started softly, “what’s this?”  With a flick of her finger, the lid of the box opened. Nestled inside, tucked in the folds of a neckerchief that Misty had painstakingly folded just the right way in there to keep it snug, sat a ring.

“Well, uh, it’s a, uh…”

“No, I know, I can see what it is,” Cordelia shook her head with a slight chuckle but that somehow only managed to ebb away only a little of the tension that had shot into Misty’s shoulders with the unintended discovery. “I meant why do you have it?”

As always, there was never any harshness in Delia’s tone, just soft curiosity, as if longing misty to explain only so she could help.

“It’s one of mine?” Misty tried hopelessly.

“No, it isn’t.” Cordelia did not need any confidence with Second Sight to see right through the lie. Even though Misty’s collection of jewellery was vast, the one in the box looked nothing like the others Delia had seen her wear on any occasion or seen in her collections strewn about their rooms. The ring nestled in front of them, though not overly gaudy or outlandishly big, seemed somewhat finer, perhaps one would say more antique-looking than even Misty’s usual go-to bohemian jewellery and keepsakes. If nothing else, definitely worth more, just judging by the look of it alone, than a half dozen dimes or a dollar or two at the thrift store.

“How do you know?” Misty tried to retort but the untruth, no matter how much she tried to guard it, was more than obvious. Nevertheless, Cordelia conceded to the reply – or lack of one – for the moment. The slight tilt of her head, the small sign of doubt, might have almost been a much more audible sigh had it been anyone else but the Supreme couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated with the fidgeting flighty swamp witch sat opposite her when she looked so nervous.

“Alright, if you won’t tell me that, then next question,” Cordelia tried cordially, resting her folded hands atop the desk.  “What is it doing here?”

“Umm…” Misty continued to fiddle with the fringe of her shawl as she tried to think of something more plausible to say without giving everything away. This clearly hadn’t been how she had envisioned this whole circumstance but she wasn’t sure, stuck as they were like this, just how best to salvage it from here.

“You know this isn’t the best place to be leaving things like this around,” Cordelia advised lightly. There was clearly more to it than Misty wanted to let on. “I trust my girls, of course I do, but anyone could have found this, if it means that much to you…”

“I was kinda hoping it would mean something to you” Misty cut across her, no longer thinking, only feeling, as was her way to get through and go about situations she otherwise wasn’t sure how to handle. Clearly holding back from Cordelia wasn’t working for either of them, and postponing things wouldn’t help, so why not come out with it here and now?

“What do you mean?” Cordelia leaned back a little in her chair at that, brow furrowed slightly as she was briefly taken aback by Misty’s blunt interruption. This was going well… As Cordelia had leaned back, Misty leaned forward with a huff, a disbelieving shake of the head.

“Do I really need to ask ya to think about it?”

“You don’t….” Cordelia looked back down to the box. There seemed to be a moment’s hesitation before a light glisten that danced across her eyes seemed to say something had dawned in her expression. She knew then, why that one ring nestled all on its own in the small box didn’t look like all the others she had ever seen Misty wear or leave lying around. Because it wasn’t Misty’s at all…It had meant to be for…

“Still a little blind there sometimes, ain’t ya, Miss Supreme…?”

“M-Misty, I…” Cordelia’s lower lip began to quiver, the deep honey ochre of her eyes developing a glossy sheen, a watery glaze that immediately made Misty’s heart plummet to her stomach like a stone tossed into that deep lake.

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that!” the swamp witch exclaimed about her blind quip, desperately wanting to back-peddle on such a apparently thoughtless comment. For all the times they had joked with one another about it before so lightly, she had just assumed it would be fine. But she couldn’t help fretting over the glisten of tears in Cordelia’s eyes. “I didn’t meant to make you cry! I was makin a joke, I-“  

“No,” the Supreme shook her head, a stray tear trailing down her cheek despite herself, but “Misty, I…”

“Wait,” much to Misty’s shock, the Supreme’s shoulders weren’t shaking from sobs, but she actually seemed to be…chuckling? “you’re laughing? what’s so funny?” she knew her blind joke hadn’t been all that great after all. Her apparent confusion only seemed to make Cordelia laugh more, a sweet peal escaping her throat at their share ridiculousness.

“Was this really meant to be…?” she asked, gesturing to the box.

“Shit, yeah. It got all kinds of mucked up, but…” Misty raked an anxious hand through her own hair, huffing an exhale, “well, yeah.”

Cordelia continued to chuckle and shake her head in disbelief at the pair of them. Herself for not seeing it sooner, and Misty for hopping around it so much in the first place instead of coming to her before this. Despite the potential hesitant setback before now, with the box already there and the suggestion already out in the open  - even if it hadn’t been the grand gesture or sweet sentiment she had planned it to be to get there – Misty seemed to decide that it was, for all intents and purposes, now or never. If she left the room now, she would probably never find the confidence to go through all this embarrassment again. For now, seeing as they were still in the throes of it, she didn’t imagine it could get much more ridiculous.

“Look here, c’mere,” Misty got up from the chair and sidled her way around the desk to reach the side Cordelia sat behind. “Shit, not as much room ‘round here as I thought,” the swamp witch muttered, prompting another laugh from the Supreme as Misty tried to find a comfortable way to kneel down, paused, seemed to have a second thought, stood back up and grabbed the box still on the top of the desk, and crouched back down again. She was glad then that she had gone barefoot after all; having her feet firmly planted on the ground instead of tottering over in heels made it a little easier to balance without bashing herself against the side of the desk. Her long ringed fingers fumbled with the wooden box and neckerchief, trying to pull it all out and grasp the ring without dropping everything. Cordelia, still sat patiently in her desk chair, just looked on amusedly as she watched the lanky swamp witch’s limbs fiddle. Despite how careful she tried to be, in a bout of nervousness, Misty managed to accidentally drop the ring and it made the sweetest light tinkling sound as it hit the hardwood.  

“Here, let me help you,” Cordelia offered and slid down from her chair in order to crouch down, just at the same time as Misty happened to relocate the ring and look back up suddenly triumphant. So close in the short space behind the desk, they collided midway, Misty’s forehead bashing into Cordelia’s chin. After a momentary dumbfounded pause at the mishap, they both broke into laughter, Misty’s free hand resting on Cordelia’s arm to steady herself still while the Supreme rubbed at her jaw. “You know we could have just used magic right?” she asked, chuckling as she steadied herself to balance along with Misty, still grinning at her and ow ridiculous it must be for them to both be crouched here behind her desk like schoolgirls hiding illicit moments from the headmistress.

“Nah,” the swamp witch said with a shrug of her shoulder, shuffling forward to kneel before her again once Cordelia had settled more comfortably. “I wanted to do this the proper way.”

“I think we’re long past that.”

Misty’s hand trailed down her arm to her hand, and with a tenderness befitting the kind of care she showed petals in the greenhouse, carefully slipped one of the two frog rings still adorning Cordelia’s fingers free. The swamp witch chewed her lower lip at the momentary thought of all those precious rings had stood for for the Supreme witch and herself even after all this time. It felt both relieving and weird to take some of that away out of sight if only for the length of time it took to replace it. She slipped the new-old-new ring onto to Cordelia’s finger, though even once she was done, she did not let go of her hand. She wondered which one of them it really was that seemed to be shaking.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me before you do that?” Cordelia asked, drawing Misty’s gaze back from her hand to those glistening eyes again and the grin upon the Supreme’s face.

“I figured if you were gonna say no, you might have said something already,” Misty retorted honestly, which resulted in yet more laughter from the elder witch as she helped to pull Misty back up to her feet behind the desk. “I didn’t say I was done yet though!” the swamp witch exclaimed, clearly startled by their shift in position.

“Doesn’t matter.” Cordelia pressed a swift kiss to Misty’s lips, pulled back to look into her eyes again, seeing the reflection of her own ecstatic gleam in those blue-green colours flashing. “Whatever it is, you can tell me later. Let’s just keep it at yes for now.”

“Yeah?” Misty grinned impossibly wider. “You really mean it?”

“Well you were right. How could you think I’d ever say anything else?” With practically a squeal of joy, Misty wrapped her arms around the shorter witch’s waist to lean them back into the desk chair for a stronger embrace. Their shared balance was not quite so well perceived as last time, and catching herself on Cordelia’s heel, they both nearly toppled over the desk chair rather than into. Luckily with quicker reflexes than when they had hit their heads, having learned from last time, with a swift flick of the wrist Cordelia’s magic managed to shift them aside so they were propped in a lean against the sturdy edge of the desk to stop any fall. With the hands around her waist and without waiting for permission or protest, Misty lifted Cordelia up to sit on top of the desk. Sliding papers aside so they wouldn’t get in the way, a pile fell over the edge scattering all over the floor. She paused, but if she was expecting any kind of reprimand from the Supreme for messing up her orderly papers, she didn’t get one.

“Still a yes, right?” Misty asked, a brow raised as she watched the other witch take her lower lip between her teeth before she broke into another laugh.

“Yes, of course, yes,” Cordelia tossed her arms over Misty’s shoulder’s as the swamp witch settled to stand herself between the Supreme’s legs. She leaned down, leaning the Supreme further back across the desk, planting her one hand atop the hard wood of the desk for balance as the other found Cordelia’s ring finger and the fresh band there, feeling the metal warm as their hands entwined. Her tousled curls tickled at Cordelia’s neck, tumbling over her skin as Misty peppered her jawline where they had previously collided with petty almost faintly apologetic pecks before she nipped at the woman’s pulse point.    

“Say it again?”