#Especially without a tardis!

[actinganimagus]

I just realised something horrifically sad.

The Doctor took Rose and her family home to Peter's world at the end of Series 4.

The Doctor wasn't there to save the universe from Sutekh's gift of death.

Which means the Tardis landed there...

Rose Tyler, her entire family, and the Metacrisis Doctor are all dust...

[intuitive-revelations]

Hmmm....

Thematically i kind of liked that.

But man that plot was... not good.

[tenrose]

People nowadays are so used to get what they want from TV writers that when they are wrong they throw tantrums like toddlers.

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinking about even and jack meeting, because i think it would be hilarious. it’s not that flirtation goes completely over their head, it’s that anything that’s even slightly more complicated than ‘you’re pretty’ misses it’s mark because there are context clues they are not picking up on (autism) and innuendo they aren’t versed in at all (spaceship). which jack could obviously adapt to very quickly, i just think it would be funny for him to throw out something charming and just get sort of. squinted at.

[yesokayiknow]

they try, honestly they do, but the doctor isn't a stationary creature and never has been, especially not when they know there's something they could help with. which is to say, it takes a week of soft quiet life before he starts begging kate for a job. kate in turn withstands three weeks of the doctor's incessant begging and big puppy dog eyes while donna noble stands right behind him and mouths don't you fucking dare before she makes a counteroffer: he can work in a lab (the 'very far away from active duty' is implied) as long as he meets with unit's therapist.

and he refuses, of course, loudly and profusely, right up until donna very gently but very firmly tells him that it really could help, actually.

so. therapy. the doctor assumes it won't do anything. the unit therapist is no nonsense and unflinching and very very bright, and twenty minutes later the doctor sits outside the room hyperventilating while kate finishes paperwork and kindly doesn't mention the way he's all but curled into her.

the second session ends much like the first, and the third, and then the fourth he walks out with dry eyes and a tremulous smile. the fifth, kate calls donna and she takes him home and they drink hot chocolate and he doesn't start talking again until the next day. it takes him seven sessions to be able to stay in the room for the full hour; kate pats him on the back and then finally allows him to build a shield for her office as a reward. she sits outside the therapist's office every time he has a session, even though she has to have better things to do. they don't talk about it.

unit only has files on things the doctor's done on earth, and even then, only sometimes, which means that when the doctor talks about some things he just. edits, a little. talks about two weeks in a confession dial and a month in prison, because maybe then he doesn't have to think about the enormity of it all. and every single time he does this, the therapist looks at him and very kindly calls bullshit. it's weird, being known. it's different with donna. he is donna and donna is him, in ways they will probably never talk about. but he sits in that cluttered little office for an hour a week (sometimes two or three times, if he's doing particularly badly) and he feels seen.

after four months, there are memories he can touch without flinching, and people he can talk about without crying. he starts spending a couple of hours just sitting in the vortex, not because he's hiding or running but just because he likes the way it feels against his skin. he cooks dinner every other night and washes up when he doesn't. he takes out the bin every week even though it's rose's job, because he loves her. and he can say that now, and he doesn't think about her short lifespan or about all the other people they've loved and lost. he can say that and just mean it.

part of his contract is an agreement to never offer a trip to a member of unit unless it's actual life or death (the small chemical leak in the lab doesn't count; he takes shirley to new mars anyway) but he finds himself toying with the idea of asking for a session in the tardis. just once, just to see. the therapist looks at him and sees him and it is monstrous and they keep looking anyway and now the doctor can sit through a family dinner without wanting to tear his skin off and he doesn't know any other way to say thank you.

it's funny, almost, how quickly he grows attached to this person who picks through his hurts and rifles through his traumas and holds direct eye contact while doing so. the doctor talks about their deaths and their crimes and their cowardice and the therapist nods and asks him how he feels and it's. it's terrifying. it's beautiful. it's the worst thing he's ever ever been through, and the best. he feels ripped apart and put back together in a way that few people have ever been able to— huh.

after his sixty eighth session (he's unable to not keep count) the doctor walks outside to where kate is annotating a schematic and says, thoughtfully, they're the master in disguise, aren't they. and kate says oh 100% and please don't let them know that you know because they will definitely go to the second stage of whatever long con they've been hatching and they're too good at this for us to let them go

[zephyrchama]

I hope demons have sayings that sound really weird and messed up to humans, just as there are many diverse sayings across varying human languages that don't always translate easily.

---01

Lucifer looked up warily as you entered his office before breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mammon, here to give me another headache."

You strided over to his desk to take a peek at what he was working on. It looked boring. "We both know you love your little brother. What could be so bad this time?"

Lucifer buried his eyes in his hands, brushing his hair aside with the tail end of a pen. "He's been gnawing on my toenails all week."

You coughed in surprise, smacking your chest to loosen up the muscles so that clarifying questions could be asked. "What? Why? How?"

"Just general Mammon buffoonery as usual. For some reason he's especially persistent this week."

"I have literally never seen Mammon chewing on toenails..." Your lip curled back in disgust just imagining it. "Has he... done this before?"

"What?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "Oh." His gaze softened once he realized what was happening and he huffed in amusement. "Mammon hasn't actually been gnawing on my toenails. It means he's getting on my nerves, as you might say."

You clasped your hands together and sighed, letting a wave of relief wash over you. "Please. Just say that next time."

----02

"C'mon, c'mon! If ya move any slower I'm gonna exfoliate Diavolo!"

You were running as fast as you could, despite Mammon being the reason for your tardiness. You didn't have much to lose, but Mammon could be in deep trouble for missing another morning class.

You wheezed and almost ran into him, not realizing he kindly came back to carry you. "Wh..." After a few deep breaths, you choked out your question. "You're gonna what? To Diavolo?"

Mammon thrust his bag in your arms in a rush and picked you up instead. He spoke as he began running, "yeah. He's gonna have my neck if I'm late again!"

"I get that, but is Barbatos gonna make you wash him...? Or...?"

"Wha? Are you still half asleep? Is that why you're runnin' so slow?"

You leaned your head back against his upper arm to stare up at him in frustration. He couldn't ignore your pouty face inches from his own. Mammon's ears grew red. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me what you mean!" you ordered.

Mammon growled and ran even faster. "What do you mean? I'm just tryna get us to class!"

---03

You scooted your seat closer to Leviathan. He perked right up and froze as you approached to whisper in his ear.

"Levi, XYZ."

"W-w-what? Is that a code?"

"No, XYZ. PDQ."

He reached for a pen and began noting the letters down. "P... D... Q... Got it. What's next?"

You shook your head. "No, Levi, your barn door is open."

"What game are we talking about? I haven't picked up Moondrop Basin in a few weeks."

You made a zipping-up motion with your hand. "Your fly!"

"Oh." Leviathan ruffled the back of his hair and swatted the air around his head. "Is it gone now? I didn't see any bugs."

Though reluctant to be so blunt, you were out of euphemisms. "Levi, your pants' zipper is open."

With an "eep!" he turned away to fix his problem. It took a few seconds. In his haste, the zipper kept getting stuck. He was mad when he turned back around, his face colored crimson. "Why didn't you just tell me? Without turning it into... into some game!"

"I did! XYZ, PDQ, That's what we say in the human world! Examine your zipper, quick!"

"That's so dumb!" he seethed, punching his knee. "What a spumid flaming cabbage. Your sayings are so weird."

---04

"Ready for the next one?"

"Hit me," you told Satan.

He grimaced from across the desk, raising his eyes from the paper to look at you in concern. "What? No, I'm not going to do that."

"Not literally, it's a human saying. It means 'give it to me,' or something like that."

"Oh." Satan jotted that down in the margins of his own notes before reading off the next phrase on his list. "This is one of my favorites. It's a colorful saying, but if you're really mad at someone you can call them a snot-cobbling banshee. I like to say this while cursing their next three generations."

You wrote that down. "How often do you use this saying?"

"Not too often. Well, maybe once a week with my brothers. It goes along with this next phrase which implies someone is dangerously stupid. Barbed dingbat."

You nodded. You were truly learning so much on this cultural exchange program.

---05

Asmodeus came into the kitchen as you were preparing dinner and wrapped his arms around your neck. He looked exhausted.

"Careful, I've got a knife, don't want to accidentally nick you," you warned. "What's up? Long day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Asmodeus peeped over your shoulder to look at the vegetables you were cutting. "I'm so glad you're home. You know, all day, all I could think about was..."

He proceeded to say some incredibly vulgar things. Detailed depictions of debauchery. Irredeemable acts of indecency that cannot be repeated on this blog. It made you put the knife down in a tizzy.

"Are those more demon idioms?" You snickered awkwardly and wiped your hands on a towel. "I've been learning about your sayings recently. Can't say I've heard those ones yet."

"What? Oh, no." Asmodeus lifted your hand, raising it to his lips to lick a stray fleck of vegetable skin off your fingertip. "These aren't sayings, this is just stuff I've wanted to do all day."

---06

"I could just eat you up."

This was something Beelzebub said often, and something he repeated again today. His hands were occupied with a fresh four-pounder with cheese, but his eyes kept drifting from it to watch you shoot paper balls into a wastebasket.

"You know, humans have the same saying. Isn't that funny?" You bounced up to grab some of the wads on the floor that didn't make it into the basket, to try again.

Beelzebub swallowed the mass in his mouth. "Really?" he asked between bites. "I thought you guys stopped doing cannibalism, mostly."

"Uh." You missed your throw. What should have been an easy shoot bounced off the edge and rolled away from the wastebasket. "Yeah, we did. Just so we're on the same page, you're saying I'm cute, right?"

Beelzebub was concerningly quiet as he chewed.

---07

"Are you on your way back to class?" Belphegor stopped you in the hall. You hadn't even seen him there on the ground, curled up next to a shady pillar.

"Skipping class again?" you asked. "I thought you liked magic theory."

"Maybe," he yawned. "It's too easy sometimes."

Belphegor fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a tightly folded-up sheet of paper. He offered it up. "Can you turn this in for me? I don't want my grades dropping over late homework."

"Sure thing, but it might be better to turn it in yourself. I heard Barbatos is doing random checks in all classes this week. He'll notice you missing."

"Nah." Belphegor's head drooped down as he prepared to doze off again. "If you see him, just tell him I'm being flerchen in the garden."

That sounded innocent enough. "Okay. What does that mean?"

"Means I've got the sniffles," he lied.

---08

Barbatos' eyes grew big and he placed a hand over his heart, furthering crumpling Belphegor's homework sheet in the process. He looked around to make sure nobody overheard before leaning in. "I must ask that you never say that again."

Behind him, Diavolo's palm was clasped over his mouth as he struggled not to draw attention with loud guffaws. He had his back to the classroom, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Why not?" You nervously shifted from one foot to another. You'd been had.

"It's not a topic I can explain here. Perhaps you and the Young Master should excuse yourselves for now. I'll come collect you both later."

Barbatos readily escorted you and Diavolo out of the room, shutting the door behind you so that class could begin without interruption.

"I'm just the messenger," you tried to defend yourself. Diavolo's fit of giggles was renewed. He grabbed on to your shoulder for stability while doubled over, trying to ride out the laughter.

"Did... did Belphegor tell you to say that?" He wiped a tear running down his face. You furiously nodded.

"Haha! Do you remember where he's hiding? I'd sure like to have a word with him."

You couldn't tell if Diavolo was going to praise Belphegor or tear him a new one. Perhaps a mix of both. However, the curiosity over what you said was overwhelming. You wanted to know the full extent of what it meant before seeing Belphegor again.

You decided to bargain with the prince. "I'll show you, but first you have to tell me what that means."

[demigodofhoolemere]

Alright, here’s where I come in to campaign for my best guy.

I feel like in a lot of these DW polls, characters from the modern series overwhelmingly dominate the classic characters because a lot of people who haven’t seen the classic run just vote for who they recognize. Steven, who seems to be widely well-loved among the Classic Who fandom, had a pretty darn close fight in the first round with Nardole, who I tend to see receiving some pretty mixed opinions, so I’m fairly sure it’s not just that y’all love Nardole that much (I personally like him, but that’s not the point).

If you have not watched Steven’s time on the show, please let me introduce you to a wonderful character.

Steven Taylor is a space pilot from around the 24th century. We meet him on the planet Mechanus, where he had a crash landing and has been imprisoned for two whole years by robots that have been keeping him locked up like a specimen in a zoo. This man has gone TWO YEARS with no human company, only a stuffed panda (his mascot, Hi-Fi 🐼) and the Mechonoids outside. He’s clearly been isolated far too long when we meet him, noticeably a little loopy in some moments, but has generally kept his sanity remarkably well and is absolutely thrilled to finally see fellow human beings again.

Fun fact: Steven is part of the club of a rare few characters in the show’s history who see the inside of the TARDIS before properly seeing the outside. He technically did see the exterior, but in a haze amidst a lot of chaos where he wasn’t really registering it (and promptly passed out), and was first properly aware of his surroundings when already inside — so rather than the ‘it’s bigger on the inside’ moment, he instead gets to laugh at fellow companion Vicki for trying to convince him that it’s much smaller outside.

His first outing as a traveler in the TARDIS is a fantastic story that includes a great little arc for him as he learns about the reality of time travel and also adjusts to interacting with people again. Steven is initially quite cynical about everything, not fully believing that they’ve really traveled in time, and gives the Doctor and especially Vicki a fair bit of grief over it. This includes one of the funniest moments in the show’s 60 years, imo:

Steven starts out having a hard time playing with others, getting into disagreements with Vicki and the Doctor as well as the local villagers. There’s an interesting shift over the course of the story as he has to learn to work with Vicki, trust and go along with what she and the Doctor say, and, in one of my favorite moments, humble himself and meet the villagers at their level. After having gotten into a pretty heated argument with some of them earlier, he is later faced with the leaders wishing him and Vicki well in their travels, offering kind ‘God be with you’s. Steven stops for a moment, having a very hard time saying thank you but seemingly cut to the core by their kindness and Vicki’s gentle prompting, and finally brings himself to thank them and reply with a ‘God be with you’ of his own. I consider this a defining moment for the character that informs his characterization from this point forward. It’s from this moment on that he is able to return to who he once was before his isolation, and truly work well with people again. Steven will always maintain his sarcasm and a certain level of cynicism, but they are now positive traits rather than negative ones, and at his core he is ultimately a good, humble man who cares for others.

From here on out he’s actually a wonderfully friendly man — which is one of the first things I think of him as, making his first story all the more interesting upon a rewatch because you can see even more how damaged he was at the beginning.

Steven quickly proves himself a very loyal person, willing to go the distance for his friends and often putting himself in harm’s way for them, from traveling to Troy with the intention of being captured so he could break Vicki out from inside to offering to make the last move against the Toymaker so that the Doctor and Dodo could get away. He is noble and upstanding to the last, always considering the welfare of anyone around him, including those who may not deserve it. He has a strong distaste for anything unfair, and one of my favorite traits of his is how baffled he is by inequality or prejudice of any kind. We see multiple times in the show and his audios that he just cannot fathom why anyone would make judgments based on ridiculous things like appearances. (In the audio An Ordinary Life he gets to punch a racist, it’s great).

Steven is grounded, honest, and trustworthy, caring very deeply for others. While he can come off as aggressive or argumentative, he's actually very friendly, kind, and genuine, and willing to hear other options. Where he does get argumentative, it is because he is absolutely just and has a strong sense of right and wrong, willing to butt heads with anyone including the Doctor if he feels that something is wrong. Over time he becomes more and more cautious, and by the time Dodo is traveling with them, he’s the picture of a protective older brother who will take care of his newfound little sister at all costs, especially after everything he’s lost up to that point. In case anyone doesn’t know, I won’t detail exactly what those losses are, but… oh boy. It’s a wonder this man is even standing after seeing the things he’s seen.

He seems to have a reputation for being angry and impatient, but as far as I’m concerned, the dude honestly has the patience of a saint considering everything he goes through. As if being isolated from all human contact for two years wasn’t enough, literally every single story after his first outing continues to pile on the pain in some way or another. Steven nearly dies of oxygen deprivation, nearly dies again when he’s stabbed with a sword and starts bleeding out and losing consciousness, suffers an absolutely OUTRAGEOUS amount of loss in extremely rapid succession, nearly dies again after having caught a spreading illness, gets stuck playing the Toymaker’s games under threat of becoming one of his dolls forever, and goes a whole story with people pointing guns at him all the time and also nearly gets hanged by them (and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that half the time those guns are pointed at him, it’s to force him to sing). That’s not even close to truly covering everything else that happens within each of those stories, let alone in his audio stories, and not to mention his plain old terrible luck in more mundane ways. If anyone has a right to express frustration sometimes, it’s him, and frankly it’s incredibly entertaining when he does, but he’s honestly a lot more chill than people give him credit for. Steven takes all of this constant grief pretty well all things considered, and manages to go through even the worst of events with the ability to get back up and smile.

He has a great sense of humor (so many funny lines that I quote all the time) and is also, frankly, adorable. Steven can get flustered and awkward at times and I love him.

TLDR: Ultimately, Steven is just about the most long-suffering guy in the world, going through absolutely gutting heartaches and a truly disproportionate amount of peril and misfortune, and he still comes away a wonderful, decent human being who keeps moving forward and loves the people around him. In his final story, the people he will end up staying with define him this way: “The man we need must inspire trust. His judgments must come from his heart even more than his head.” And they were certainly right that Steven is that kind of a man.

Bonus, because I can, look at his great hair

and what is perhaps the best picture of Steven ever taken. You’re welcome.

Now everybody go vote Steven.

Round Two: Doctor Who Tournament

Click here for Tournament Table

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Their Favorite Show

Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sirius and James have a secret. They love watching Remus fucking his girlfriend, you. Without both of you knowing.

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT, Remus is a gentleman in the streets but a freak in the sheets, rough sex, masturbating, everyone is of age!!

Word Count: 1.6K

It all started when Sirius and James ran down the hallway to their dorm room. They were running late to quidditch practice, they didn’t want to get an earful about their tardiness. James was captain which meant more pressure in attending practice on time. Barging into the room, they quickly grabbed their stuff and was about to head out when a voice called out, a girl’s voice. They froze in mid step when they heard giggling followed by the sound of Remus’ voice, “Need you so bad, love.”

Even though they were running late, they were pranksters after all. They didn’t want to waste a good moment like this to prank their dear friend and his girl. They've been waiting for an opportunity like this. They were fond of you and accepted you into their little friend’s group. Sirius and James wouldn’t tell Remus this, but they had a small crush on you when they first met you. Which ended when Remus and you came out as a couple but once in a while, James and Sirius’ gaze would linger a little bit too long on you whenever you spoke or when doing something.

Running into the bathroom to hide, they left the door ajar. They had a clear view of Remus' bed. They held their breath when they heard the knob of the door jiggling.

“Remus.” Sirius’ ears perked up at your voice as both of you came walking in.

Sirius sees Remus leaning down to kiss you. Remus’ hands cups your face as he makes out with you. The boys freeze when they witness the sight of tenderness between Remus and you. Remus is mumbling your nickname to you as he lays his forehead against yours. His lips meets yours again before pulling away to lay you down on his bed, you’re on your back.

About to jump out and scare both of you. You began to moan when Remus started to nip on your neck, planting wet open kisses.

It takes a lot to make playboy, Sirius blush like a school girl but seeing Remus kiss you like that flipped something in him. Remus’ fingers were working quickly to unbutton your shirt. James gulped when Remus took your shirt off, showing your bralette.

“Prettiest fucking tits, I swear.” Remus says as he pulls them down, showing your bare breasts.

Sirius and James’ eyes grew wide as they saw Remus sucked your nipple while squeezing the other. They were practically salivating when they saw your wet hard nipple when Remus pops it out of his mouth.

“Don’t forget to lock the door.” You tell him as Remus quickly removes his sweater and throws it across the room.

“Don’t worry. Peter is in the library with Lily. James and Sirius are at practice. They won’t be back until a few hours.” Sirius and James glance at each at the word practice.

Practice will not be on the agenda today that was for sure especially when they saw you removing the rest of your clothes. Remus follows you and it is not the first time they have seen Remus naked. All the years they have helped him with his transformations. They were always amazed by his body. His tall frame was something out of a painting. His fair skin looked so soft even with the scars. His hair was getting longer, and his piercing eyes peeked behind the strands of hair as he leans over you.

Their cocks grew hard when they saw you riding Remus. The sound of skin slapping together, your wet cunt and Remus groans were so arousing to them. Your breasts were bouncing up and down as you rode Remus’ cock. James rubs the back of his neck as he hears Remus calling you his pretty slut. Sirius starts to play with the belt around his waist when you cried out that you were going cum.

Remus brings his hand to your neck and Sirius is hard when he sees you, go crossed eyes for a sec and a grin appears on your pretty flushed face when you cum on Remus’ cock.

It’s been three weeks since James and Sirius saw Remus fucking you. After watching Remus and you, they had to go their separate ways and deal with themselves. They felt bad afterwards, the guilt was eating them up every day. Jacking off to the thought of their best mate fucking his girlfriend.

They vowed to never tell Remus or you about this. Not even a living soul, they couldn’t tell anyone that they enjoyed it. Remus and you had ruined porn for them completely, nothing was exciting them like before. They had to hear Remus and your moans. They had to see your cunt gushing all over Remus’ cock to cum. It had gotten to the point that Sirius and James would pretend to forget some details. The boys would “recall” how your ass looked or how Remus’ cock slid into you. They wanted to talk about you and Remus in order for them to cum.

“Remember that face she made?” James nods at Sirius.

“When he started to choke her..fuck.” Sirius says as he cups himself through his trousers.

Remus and you never suspected a thing and they kept doing it. James and Sirius would hide in the closet, bathroom again, and use the cloak of invisibility. James and Sirius thought they were close before but nothing was like being close with each other like being under the cloak with their cocks out in their hands as they watched Remus fucking you from behind.

They had front row seats to their favorite show.

Remus had you on your hands and knees on his bed. He’s panting above you as he holds your hips while thrusting into you.

Sirius bites the inside of his cheek as he squeezes the head of his cock gently. James is breathing heavily, his round glasses start to fog up a bit as he strokes himself.

“Remus!” You cry out as he pushes the side of your face down on the mattress, you are facing James and Sirius now and they see a smile on your face when Remus holds your neck down. You love this just as much as Remus did.

Your moans become louder as Remus slams himself inside of you. The mattress springs creak so loudly by his rough thrusts. Your cheek is squished against the blankets. You hold on for dear life, your pussy pulse around Remus’ cock as he praises you for being a good girl with her ass in the air and head down.

They never would have thought Remus as a dom, he was too bashful and too respectful towards you. This was the same Remus that blushes when you call him baby and kisses his cheeks in the hallways. The same Remus that would walk you to class, carrying your books and even your bag.

That Remus is gone, this Remus is using your pussy as his personal pocket pussy and you’re just loving it. Even with his rough strokes, Remus leans down close to your face pushing his cock deeper inside of you.

Remus is muttering sweet words to you. Pushing your hair back, as he coos about your pretty face. He kisses your shoulders, as he calls you his.

“Mine. All mine.” He says before continuing ramming his hips against your ass.

James was the first to cum, he always is. He just couldn’t help it. You looked so fucking good with teary eyes taking a pounding from Remus. Sirius cums when you cry out for Remus to cum in you.

You are begging your boyfriend to fill you and Remus whines when he holds you in place. He leans over you and pulls your hair back, almost making your upper body fold back. He pulls you back by your hair and you look up at him with a pout, he kisses you.

Remus cries your name when he fills you to the hilt and paints your wall with his cum. James and Sirius just stare at both of you as Remus rolls you carefully on to your back. He’s gentle with you as he opens your legs and makes room for himself. He goes on you to lay there with you. Caging your head with his forearms as he kisses you. You wrap your legs around his waist.

They liked watching the aftercare, something so sweet and tender. Remus kisses you so gently, it leaves you out of breath. They would watch Remus stare down at you with so much intensity and love.

“You okay, love?” You nod at your boyfriend’s soft voice. Remus holds you until your breathing is back to normal. James whines softly at the sight of it and Sirius glances over at him. It’s hot and humid under the cloak.

James and Sirius give each other the same look after every time they watched Remus and you. They always say this will be the last time. That’s what they tell themselves but the moment they see you pulling Remus into another room during a party or whispering in his ear during lunches and breaks. They see the look on Remus’ face and he grabs your hand telling his friends something had come up. Sometimes they know by the way Remus walks up to you.

They watch him walk up behind you when they see you talking to your friends in the courtyard. He politely greets your friends with a smile as he grabs your waist, hugging you from behind and kisses your forehead. He grabs your bag, telling you a lady shouldn’t be carrying a heavy thing. Your friends are all in awe of his gentleman nature. You say goodbye to them as you walk with Remus who’s hiding his hard on with your bag. Both of you are off to the nearest empty classroom. James and Sirius are quick to make an excuse to leave. They always leave Lily, Peter and Marlene baffle by their sudden departure.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

•○●⛦●��•

Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[shitsndgiggs]

Can you write were the reader and Kenan are engaged and she forget to put on the ring and they get into argument about it because she said it just a ring and Kenan doesn’t think so

WARNING!! SMUT!!

MORE THAN A RING- KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan struggles to stay calm when a groomsman flirts with you, especially since you forgot your engagement ring

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The wedding venue was beautifully decorated, with fairy lights casting a magical glow over the garden. We arrived late, having rushed through traffic and barely made it in time for the ceremony.

Kenan and I quickly found our seats among friends, smiling apologetically for our tardiness.

As the vows were exchanged, I couldn’t help but glance at Kenan, his hand warm in mine. He gave me a reassuring squeeze, his eyes filled with love. The ceremony was beautiful, and I felt a surge of happiness for our friends.

After the ceremony, we mingled with the other guests. The reception was in full swing, laughter and music filling the air. Kenan was pulled aside by an old friend, leaving me to chat with some of the other guests.

A tall, charming groomsman approached me, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey there, beautiful. Are you here alone?"

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "No, I’m here with my fiancé."

His eyes flicked to my hand, a frown appearing. "Really? I don’t see a ring."

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced down, realizing with a jolt that I had forgotten to put on my engagement ring.

I felt a flush of embarrassment. "Oh, I must have left it at home. But I assure you, I’m very much engaged."

Before the groomsman could respond, Kenan appeared at my side, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, slipping an arm around my waist possessively.

The groomsman held up his hands in mock surrender. "No problem at all. Just having a chat."

Kenan’s grip tightened slightly, and the groomsman quickly excused himself. Once he was out of earshot, Kenan turned to me, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. "Where's your ring?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with frustration.

I bit my lip, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I must have forgotten to put it on. We were in such a rush."

Kenan's jaw clenched as he took my hand and led me away from the crowd, towards a secluded hallway.

He pushed open a door to an empty room and guided me inside, closing the door behind us with a soft click. His eyes were blazing with intensity as he turned to face me.

"You forgot it, didn't you? And do you know what happens when you forget your ring? Other men think you're available. They think they can make their moves on you, touch what's mine."

His voice shook with barely restrained fury, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I had seen this side of Kenan before, but never so intensely.

Part of me wanted to run, to escape the fiery passion that burned within him, but another part of me was intrigued, excited by the raw possession he exuded.

Kenan took a step closer, invading my personal space, his breath hot on my neck. "Do you want that? Do you want them touching you, kissing you, taking what's mine?" Each word was laced with anger and possession, and I found myself unable to speak, my breath catching in my throat.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body, sense the tension coiled tightly within him.

Without waiting for an answer, Kenan crushed his lips against mine, kissing me with a desperate hunger. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss, demanding a response from me.

I felt myself melting into him, my body softening against his hard frame. I kissed him back, matching his intensity, my hands clutching at his suit jacket.

The anger and jealousy that fueled his desire only seemed to heighten my own need, igniting a fire within me that I couldn't control.

Our kisses became more frantic, lips bruising, tongues tangling. Kenan's hands roamed lower, gripping my hips and pulling me tightly against him so I could feel the hardness of his arousal.

A moan escaped my throat, and I arched into him, wanting more. Kenan broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and down my neck. "You're mine," he growled, biting gently at the sensitive skin below my ear, marking me as his own.

I whimpered, my head falling back to give him better access. "Y-yes, Kenan... I'm yours..." I panted, my body throbbing with need.

His hands slid up my thighs, under my dress, caressing the soft skin there. "Tell me how much you want me," he murmured, his lips brushing against my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. "Tell me how wet your pussy is for me."

Heat flushed my cheeks as a wave of desire pulsed between my legs. "I want you so much, Kenan," I whispered hoarsely. "My pussy is aching for you... Please, touch me..." Without another word, Kenan slid his hand further up my thigh, his fingers finding the moist heat of my core.

A gasp escaped my lips as he gently rubbed my clit, circling it slowly, teasingly. "You're so wet," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "So fucking ready for me."

My breath quickened as pleasure washed over me. "Please, Kenan... I need you inside me..." I begged, my hips bucking slightly against his hand. With a low, satisfied chuckle, Kenan slid a finger inside me, then another, stretching and filling me.

I moaned softly, my eyes fluttering closed as he began to thrust his fingers in and out, stroking my G-spot with each deliberate movement. "That's it, baby... cum for me," he urged, his thumb finding my swollen clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles.

The combination of his skilled fingers and the intense build-up of the evening sent me over the edge. "Oh god, Kenan... I'm cumming!" I cried out, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Kenan continued to work his magic, prolonging my orgasm, until I slumped against him, breathless and sated. "That's my girl," he murmured proudly, kissing me tenderly on the forehead.

But he wasn't done with me yet. With a devilish glint in his eye, Kenan spun me around so that I was facing the wall. He pushed me gently forward, bending me over, and admired the enticing sight of my breasts pressed against the wall.

"You look so fucking sexy like this, all spread out and waiting for me," he commented, his voice thick with desire. I felt a surge of lust hearing his words, a warmth spreading between my legs once more.

Kenan wasted no time in positioning himself behind me, his hard length pressing against my entrance. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled me completely, making me moan out loud. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grabbing my hips and setting a relentless pace.

I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, my breasts swaying with the force of our lovemaking.

The sound of our flesh slapping together echoed off the walls, mixing with our grunts and moans of pleasure. Kenan reached around, cupping my swollen breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot that had me crying out in delight. "Cum with me, baby," he panted, his own orgasm building. "Let go for me again."

And as if on cue, I felt the coiling tension deep within my core once more. "Kenan, oh god... I can't hold back..."

His thrusts became more urgent as he felt me tighten around him, and with a roar of satisfaction, he spilled himself inside me, his hot cum mixing with my juices. I cried out as the force of his release sent me over the edge once more, my walls clenching rhythmically around him as I rode out my intense orgasm.

We stayed coupled together for several moments, catching our breath, before Kenan gently withdrew, stroking my sweaty hair away from my face with a tender smile.

As we straightened our clothes and composed ourselves, I turned to Kenan, and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot against my lips.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his voice husky.

I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. "I know, and I’m sorry for forgetting the ring. But Kenan, you don’t need a ring to show that I’m yours."

His eyes softened as he looked into mine. "I just don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t," I whispered, kissing him gently. "I’m yours, Kenan. Always."

He kissed me again, softer this time, his hands caressing my face. "I love you," he murmured against my lips.

"I love you too," I replied, feeling the warmth of his love wash over me.

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. Eventually, we made our way back to the reception, hand in hand.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

next

[forcemeanakin]

Right where you left me.

•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.

Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.

Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾

You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength. 

Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now. 

On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth. 

Bingo. 

Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer. 

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.

“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly. 

Oh. 

“Training ran long?” You hoped.

“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance. 

At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.

Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed. 

So far, you had failed in your mission. 

“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile. 

“And how’s life outside of work, baby?” 

And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.

“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses. 

“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed. 

Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you. 

You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date. 

The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like. 

And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you. 

Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it. 

But you wanted to try. For you.

For him.

As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session. 

Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.

So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.

“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”

His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.

“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene. 

“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart. 

You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-

“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.” 

Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low. 

“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”

The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior. 

Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .

And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough. 

“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”

You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?

“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.

But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message. 

“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers. 

That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in. 

“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”

I guess.

“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.” 

Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat. 

He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”

You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape. 

“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes. 

He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.

It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.

“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”

The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done. 

The day of his usual drunken nights. 

Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke. 

Exactly at the time he would always contact you. 

And you?

You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.

Every day since that day. 

Right where he left you. 

[haute-pockette]

The Doctor being disabled.

Every incarnation sitting somewhere on the autism spectrum. Their stims and behaviors vary between incarnations.

First doctor with alexithymia. On Gallifrey it was fine, ignored. A "superior race" that prided itself in observation without interference doesn't put too much stalk in compassion. But meeting humans up close with Barbara and Ian started him down a path of learning to put words to his own feelings as well as others.

As his body aged he also developed arthritis. The cane was for mobility as much as it was for style. He learned the hard way that aspirin is not Gallifreyan friendly (he survived the small dose, but it scared the hell out of Susan).

Two with lots of physical stims. All his gestures and wringing his hands, grabbing onto companions.

Dyspraxic Two. Chicken scratch handwriting, stumbling over his words and his feet. He really leans into tactile sensations whether it's the texture of his clothes or holding onto a companion, it was always grounding for him.

Third tended to shut down more than his first two since the constant stress and frustration of exile had him already wound pretty tight. He'll lock himself in the lab and just put himself on autopilot until he recharges enough to deal with whatever shenanigans are happening.

Three has tinnitus that of various sounds including almost like the tardis materialization sound. He often has to look up to check if the Master is showing up to bother him or not.

Four has ADHD alongside with autism. He struggles with constantly running from responsibility and wanting to have some sense of control of situations.

It's one of those snowballs of procrastination causing anxiety which causes him to procrastinate further. Unless it's urgently life threatening, his stress response is freeze.

Five masks and suppresses his emotions in an attempt to blend with neurotypicals more since he's self-conscious of his previous "eccentricity" as Four. It causes a lot of strain between him and Tegan after Earthshock.

Peripheral neuropathy causing muscle weakness in his legs cause of the difficult regeneration. Look how much he falls over and leans on the tardis console, he can't stand straight for long periods of time without aids. Usually has braces, but will use a cane around the tardis (would use the wheelchair but it's dead in the Castrovalva river).

Six gets overstimulated easier than some, especially by noises and textures. Usually that with things not going accordingly tends to set off meltdowns. Ever since he hurt Peri he turns his energy on himself instead.

Bipolar Six. He tends to handle mania better than depression, at least when he has too much energy he knows he can spend it and try to get it out. He'll usually park the tardis somewhere his companion can enjoy and shut himself away in the cloister room or zero room when at the worst of his lows.

Also type 1 diabetic six, regenerating from poison fucked with his metabolism. He is careful to take care of his blood sugar, but he's terrible at remembering to stay hydrated. That's why Mel is always shoving carrot juice at him.

Seven has ADD (yes I know it's technically "ADHD of the predominantly inattentive type" but ADD is easier). ADD as in he's always in his own head, always five points ahead of the conversation. His train of thought is incomprehensible to most, but there is a string of logic to it.

Dyspraxic Seven with an abnormal gait and stance. Bad posture makes him look shorter than he is. Only he can read his own handwriting, which he insists is not as bad as it is.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

If you allow yandere, then Can I request a yandere! Catnap x Creator! reader?

Time are in the middle of hour of joy, and Reader are in playcare, catnap are chasing reader and reader are desperately running away from him. and reader is creator or the person who came up with the design of Catnap.

'God..why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?? God, please make this stop...tell me I'm dreaming..'

Sadly, this was no dream.

The screams, the bloodshed, the senseless slaughter..

All of it was very much real, and you were right in the middle of it all, currently hiding within Playcare. You didn't even know what was going on exactly or why.

Everywhere you looked, there was another dead body on the ground, in the grass, and splayed across the stairs...all of whom were either your coworkers, scientists you've never seen before, security personnel, or innocent visitors.

Many of them had similar wounds--claw marks from none other than Catnap himself, who you saw stalking around the premises, looking for survivors.

But why would he do something like this?

How was he even capable of such violence?

It was supposed to be a normal and simple day:

You clocked in, checked up on Catnap's well-being after he put the children to sleep, and then left to attend to other matters. It was a mundane routine, but you were always excited to get up and go to work because of him.

However, you were running a tad bit late today and feared you'd get an earful from your supervisor considering the company's strict tardiness rules.

But on your way to Playcare, the emergency sirens resounded all throughout the facility. You had no idea what was going on, although the distant screams made you utterly terrified and had you running straight to that area, praying you'll find shelter from whatever danger lurked nearby...

Instead you ran straight into the scene of a massacre.

All orchestrated by Catnap and several mini-Smiling Critters who got loose, attacking and devouring whatever poor human got caught in their sights.

You had to throw on your gas mask quickly to avoid inhaling the red smoke. There was very little lingering in the air still, but judging from the corpses who still wore them or had them torn from their heads, they must have been prepared for this massive containment breach.

Even so, none were spared.

Catnap was probably smart enough to know the purpose of those masks. And he put them all to sleep. Permanently.

Yet somehow he hasn't spotted you yet, and you hoped to every god above that he didn't.

This pained you especially as you were on the designer team for the Smiling Critters. You actually made the first drawing of Catnap and presented it to your boss, who approved it right away...but only after making a few minor major adjustments.

Who knew something so sweet and innocent would turn into something so deadly?

He was supposed to be nothing more than a cartoon character brought to life and a plush toy (that unfortunately got recalled). How the higher-ups managed to achieve that with him and the other critters without your team ever knowing...you had no idea, but you were thrilled by the results.

You adored Catnap, and he was well aware that you created the idea of him--almost worshipping you, in a sense, and being the only human he'd properly communicate with.

In turn, you've communicated with him healthily, treating him like a person instead of an experiment. He did mutter strange things sometimes and talked about freedom, but you never probed him on that nor reminded him that he was a prisoner here.

No matter how true it may be, no toy deserves to be told that.

Now that you were here, hiding from the very thing you had loved and created, you weren't sure if you were even looking at Catnap anymore.

It may look like him, but it's not him.

Catnap is not a killing machine.

Whatever those scientists did turned him into a monster. A creature they failed to keep in check.

And he snapped, slaughtering many of your acquaintances and innocent families interested in the adoption program.

He kept muttering about an "Hour of Joy", which you've heard him speak of in the past. But you've always assumed he was talking about an upcoming birthday party or event within the Playhouse the other Smiling Critters were planning..

Not a giant bloodbath that painted the floors and walls of Playcare red.

You ducked behind a trash canister as you watched Catnap creep towards a survivor, who was also wearing a gas mask and breathing hard. Seeing that their leg was torn off at the knee, you knew there was no hope of helping them.

The moment they were spotted, their fate was sealed.

They were his prey now.

You couldn't look away as he paused for a moment, before reaching forward with a quick swipe, tearing off their mask. His claws left big gash marks across their face as they wailed in pain, but it didn't last long as he quickly pounced and slashed their throat next--leaving them to choke on their own blood.

Seconds later, their body stilled, becoming just like the rest of those surrounding them.

You made the horrible mistake of exhaling a shaky breath, the mask amplifying the noise.

That's when Catnap whipped his head towards you, those white dots growing larger.

"YOU. COME HERE."

Realizing your cover's blown, you jumped up and knocked the trash canister over, hoping it'd distract him long enough for you to race inside Home Sweet Home. But the diversion barely did anything, as you heard the loud stomps of the purple beast practically on your heels.

He lunged at the door just as you turned and slammed it shut, locking it and trying to shove a chair beneath the knobs. There was loud knocking on the other side, but eventually it stopped.

As soon as it did, you rushed into one of the many bunkbed rooms, finding it strangely devoid of children, scientists, and caretakers.

What happened to them all?

Did they evacuate safely?

Did they know about this ahead of time?

You had no idea, and quite frankly..now wasn't the time to find out. Rather, it was time for you to think of a way out of this wretched place, but you feared it won't be easy.

You knew the orphanage's interior like the back of your hand--the problem were the little Smiling Critters that you could currently hear pitter-pattering down the halls.

He put them here on patrol.

If any of them saw you..surely they'd alert him.

On the brightside, there were no traces of red smoke to be found, so you briefly took the mask off to give yourself a breather. Sweat poured down your face, and your throat ran dry; you could practically feel your own heartbeat pounding within it as you tried to figure out your next move.

Maybe if you wait here long enough, he'll get bored and leave...

Or maybe he'll-

All of the sudden, a critter leapt out from underneath one of the covers and tried latching onto your head. You yelled out as it screeched right beside your ear, attempting to bite into it and get a taste of your flesh, but you managed to throw it down to the ground and keep it crushed under your shoe.

You grabbed a nearby metal rod from a destroyed bedframe, pointing the sharp end at its throat..

Only to realize it was a Catnap, who looked perfectly intact aside from a little dirt caking its plush body.

Both of you had a bit of a staring contest.

And in the end....you couldn't find it in you to kill it.

All you could do was stare down at the creature, tears in your eyes as you watched it wriggle and snarl, pawing at your foot. It was barely putting up a fight now, which made you realize it probably didn't want to attack you.

Rather..it seemed hungry.

But why would it be hungry for human flesh?

Was Catnap the same way? Was he hungry or just killing for sport?

More importantly...why was he killing at all and tormenting you like this?

Maybe he was angry about his toyline being recalled, or the unfair treatment he's gotten here by the scientists. Or perhaps he felt outcasted by the other Smiling Critters.

You didn't know if any of them were still around, but for all you knew they could be just like him.

Hungry, rampaging monsters.

The ringing phone snapped you back to reality, and you cautiously took your foot off the tiny Catnap. It got up and skittered away into a nearby hole in the rotting wall, apparently having lost its appetite.

You quickly answered the machine, praying it was somebody upstairs trying to get in contact with you. Maybe a survivor who knew how to get you out. Before you gave them a chance to speak, you went first, being so scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed by everything that's happened thus far.

You just wanted this nightmare to be over already.

"Thank god. What the hell is going on?! It's like a fucking slaughterhouse down here-"

"It's a celebration. The Hour of Joy, little mouse."

Your blood ran cold, realizing who that voice belonged to. 'The Toys...they know how to use these phones..?'

"C-Catnap?"

"[Y/n]..why did you run away?" He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't know it was you."

"Wha...b-because you were killing people!" Your voice grew shaky, confused as to why he sounded so calm. "And you would've killed me, too!!"

"No."

"...what?"

"You are special to me, little mouse. You breathed life into me. You must be kept safe, for you are pure..unlike these wretched souls." He murmured. "They would have taken you away from me. Forever. I do not want that."

"Y-You're..not making any sense, Catnap." You struggled to wrap your head around his words. "If someone told you I'm quitting or getting fired or transferring..they lied. Nobody's taking me away from you..is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you did all of this?"

"I did it..for the Prototype...and for you. He told me I could spare one soul when our Hour of Joy is up."

Your stomach sank, but before you could ask him more about this "prototype", he cut you off.

"Shhhhhhhh. No more talking. No more running. Sleep, little mouse."

By the time you realized red smoke was starting to fill up the room, it was already far too late as you began coughing. You dropped the phone and frantically searched for your gas mask.

No way in hell were you going to fall asleep now.

Especially not after what he told you.

You'd rather die with the rest of them.

Suddenly you heard a small crunching noise and looked down, seeing that you stepped on one of the lenses. 'Shit..it must've broke off during my scuffle with Mini-Catnap...'

You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you instead tried grabbing something to stuff beneath the door to stop more smoke from seeping in. No matter what, you HAD to stay awake, you told yourself.

And yet..

That stained worn mattress with the blanket you half-dragged off suddenly looked quite comfortable.

You collapsed onto it, feeling exhaustion overwhelm you immediately despite the rest of your body's attempts to fight it--knowing your fate was ultimately left in his hands should you fail.

But you were so, so tired..

You couldn't help closing your eyes. Just for a little while.

Right before losing consciousness, however, you noticed that the door was now open, and through the red fog appeared Catnap himself.

Except he didn't look like a monster made of skin and bones, instead being a little bipedal purple cat who seemingly jumped straight out of the cartoon show.

His fur wasn't tainted with a single spec of blood or dirt.

He was perfect.

Your perfect creation.

All he did was smile, and you fell asleep smiling back.

[xmalereader]

PS5 Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: May I request a PS5 Peter Parker x Male Reader. The reader and Peter used to be a thing when they were in high school but, they didn't work due to Peter's distance and cold because of him being spiderman especially when aunt May died. Years later, they encountered each other, the reader achieved his dream of being a writer, he wrote a book about him and unexpectedly, Peter came to his convention. Peter has been following the reader ever since they broke up, he always checks up on what he was doing daily without him. He visited the reader's convention hoping for a closure and confessed that he still loves the reader.

TAG: @jihanbang

WC: 4.7K

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of high school sweethearts, age gap ( one year difference ), Peter is angsty, reader is a writer, break ups and make ups, request made, insomniac Peter Parker, Spider-Man, some mature language, memories, childhood, high school memories. Peter POV, OOC Peter Parker.

NOTES: I may have gone a little overboard with this one, but I don’t care. I’ve actually been planning on writing an angsty Peter about ex lovers and all and when I saw your request I just had to write it right away. I was gonna keep it short but instead took it further almost 5k! (°▽°), but anyways I enjoyed writing this and put it as Peter perspective. I hope you enjoy this shot because I know I did!

Peter stares at the poster board plastered on the front window of the cities famous bookstore that he’d been passing by on the way out of F.E.A.S.T. He wasn’t much of a reader when it came towards books of fantasy or romance and would much rather have his nose stuck between the pages of a physics and engineering book, but he’d for sure read this new one coming out soon. His eyes drift over to the authors picture, staring at the smiling man and taking in their appearance. How long has it been since he’s last seen that smile?

Peter remembers the first time he saw that smile.

He was sixteen years old and freshly new to high school near his aunt May’s place. He’d grown nervous and anxious at the idea of starting his first year of his last three years of education before collage could even start, he remembers arriving late on his first day, flustered and embarrassed when walking into his first period only to have everyone laugh at him when the teacher points out his tardiness to the whole class.

He was embarrassed, but also lucky enough to get a seat in the back of the classroom where no one would see him. The only difference was that the only spot avaliable was next to the schools president who was a year older than Peter and the only Junior in his first period class. Peter always steered away from class representatives having experience their egos back in middle school. The good thing was that he didn’t have to deal with it all day and only for the first hour of school.

Until he found out that the president was in all of his classes, meaning that he would be seeing the kid for the whole school year and being partnered with him in various projects together. When he was first partnered with the class president he figured that he would be the only one doing the project and getting them an easy A only to get the total opposite from him.

Peter was surprised when Y/n sat next to him during class, shoulders bumping as he opens their textbooks and began to plan out their project and what subject they should look into along with figuring out where to meet up and when to get started. Peter didn’t think that the class president would actually help him out or put the work into their project.

He figured that he was only being nice because he was the schools star until he started following Peter everywhere. He’d invite him to eat lunch together or even drag him to the library in order to get started on their project it wasn’t until Peter actually freaked out when Y/n followed him home, thinking that he was being stalked and gained the confidence to stick up to the president, glaring at the junior and asking him why he was following him and claiming him to be a stalker.

Only for Y/n to laugh at Peters accusations and quickly clear up the problem by telling him that he actually lived in the same street as him, pointing out to the house just a few blocks down from Peters aunts place. Lets just say that Peter was embarrassed that day.

It wasn’t until their time together became a routine.

Y/n would be waiting for Peter every morning in order to walk to school together, visiting his place and joining his and aunt Mays dinner nights and keeping them company. There time together almost everyday caused a strange feeling to bloom deep down inside of Peter, questioning himself as to why he was feeling this way whenever he was around Y/n.

Peter liked science and like a scientist he had to experiment.

So, the teen started the process. His mornings with Y/n on the way to school were normal the two always talking about class work that was left unfinished or Y/n telling Peter about the different ideas he had in mind for the students and making sure that the year ends perfectly for everyone. There lunch together was also normal with Peter sitting across from Y/n as he eats his chocolate pudding, staring at the other teen who also eats his lunch and passing Peter his own pudding cup.

Y/n knew that Peter liked the schools chocolate pudding and always gave him his each time they got it for lunch without even having to offer it and Peter would easily take it without hesitation and eat a spoonful while they continued to converse.

Peter didn’t get that familer feeling anymore and figured that he was possibly just sick that day. Only to get that same feeling again when their both sitting in his bedroom after finishing up their project with Y/n rambling to Peter about his writing and the amount of ideas he had in mind while showing his drafts, sitting so close to each other that they can feel each others breaths.

That’s when Peter discovered that he was crushing on the class president.

Which resulted into Peter screaming into his pillow that night after going to bed. He couldn’t be crushing on Y/n out of all people why him? Since his discovery he was much more careful around Y/n, cutting their time together, leaving earlier than him in the mornings to the point that he had to fake being sick in order to avoid seeing him.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to notice Peter avoiding him and he wasn’t one to let things drag on. The day that Peter arrived to school an hour early in order to avoid Y/n he didn’t expect himself to be grabbed by the back of his backpack and dragged inside the janitors closet. He panics at first until he’s face to face with Y/n, staring at him with wide eyes and noticed how angry he looked.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Peter chuckled nervously while shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Peter.”

Peter can’t help but wince softly by his stern voice, avoiding eye contact when he feels his heart race, noticing how close Y/n is being while he continues to talk.

“You’re always leaving earlier than me in the mornings which is funny because your always waking up late and I have to be the one to wake you up—you stopped eating lunch with me and your always taking sick days which never happens because you hate missing school and you never get sick!” He continued to ramble on, losing Peter half way when he’s staring at him with admiration. The fact that Y/n not only noticed Peters avoidance but also pointed out the smallest things about him that not many people knew about, not even his aunt did.

“—and then you leave me behind after school when we always walk back home together and you don’t answer my texts! So, I figured that I’d corner you before school started in order to get answers.”

Peter is pulled from his thoughts and focused back on Y/n, staring at him as he stands before him with crossed arms and a frown on his face and a raised brow, waiting for an answer.

“It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

Y/n was quick to respond, surprising Peter.

The two are staring each other down until Y/n sighs in defeat, frown softening while breaking contact and rubbing his temples. “Look, I won’t push you to tell me but can I least ask…did I do something to make you act this way?” His voice is filled with concern which only makes Peter quickly speak up. “No! No you didn’t do anything its…” He hesitates to speak, growing afraid and anxious by how Y/n will react when confessing his feelings.

He’s afraid to lose the person he really cares for, but he can’t always keep his feelings bottled up.

“Peter—?”

“I like you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched when hearing Peters confession, eyes full of surprise and with a gaped mouth. Before he could say anything Peter continues on. “I didn’t know until I started being around you more often and ever time I’m around you my hearts races and my stomach makes me feel like I want to throw up. I was avoiding you because I was afraid of how you’d react if you found out and I thought it would be better for me to keep my distance in hopes of getting rid of these feelings, but it only made me feel worse.”

Peter would think that Y/n would reject him and possibly leave him alone in the closet, ending their friendship after confessing. He didn’t think that he’d pulled into a kiss, warm hands cupping his cheeks and soft lips against his own. Peters eyes were wide in and face going red, he wasn’t only full of surprise but it was also his first kiss.

“You’re an idiot if you didn’t think i’d feel the same way.” Y/n says against Peters lips when breaking apart.

From that moment on the two started dating.

Peter expected the entire school to find out that their popular Vice president was dating him only to get nothing due to them keeping their relationship private. Y/n wanted to continue enjoying his time with Peter in school without being bombarded with questions by the various popular students who liked him. The two had their peace for the first year until graduation neared.

During Y/n’s last year of school he had told everyone that he wasn’t running for president for his Senior year and instead with the extra time he had he spent it at Peters place after school. The two would listen to each others talk passionately about what they loved with Peter talking fondly about his science projects and him listening to Y/n ramble on about his writing and his book ideas that he’s noted down for Peter to read and critique.

Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

Before Peter and Y/n officially started dating he focused on his duties as the cities hero, never having to worry about keeping it a secret from anyone else but his Aunt only to find out that he’d have to eventually tell Y/n about it which only freaked him out. He couldn’t allow him to know due to the fear of ruining their relationship and perhaps putting him in danger if things were to get bad as he continued to be the cities hero.

So, little by little Peter became distant towards Y/n.

Coming up with excuses as to why he didn’t want to go out to the point that arguments started over the smallest things. Peter wanted to keep Y/n close to him but the fear of being discovered as to why he’s always late to their small dates caused him to make the worst decision ever. It was the week before senior graduation that he broke up with Y/n, making up a lie that he didn’t want to hold him back when he’s in college and should have the freedom to be with other people who were far better than him.

Peter couldn’t even look him in the eyes when he utters those words and instead runs away like a coward.

That same night he had cried himself to sleep, feeling devastated and broken by his poor decision but also telling himself that it was for the best. Peter avoided Y/n on the days that he tried to talk to him, coming over to his aunts place to try and have a conversation only to be pushed away, keeping himself busy with his Spider-Man duties and spending more time in the city.

It wasn’t until after graduation that Y/n moves out of his parents place and got himself an apartment on the other side of the city, far away from Peter. He didn’t have to worry about going outside and bumping into his ex each time he checked the mail or took out the trash even though Peter wished to see him again he knew it’s was better to stay away.

Even after twelve years he couldn’t stop thinking about the man.

As the years went on he had found Y/n on social media, checking in on his profile every few weeks and taking notice of the various pictures that are posted along with interviews and conventions about his book that is to be released soon. Peter didn’t want to look like a stalker checking his ex’s socials, but can’t help himself and do it.

After returning back home from F.E.A.S.T he didn’t expect to find MJ working in the living room. Even though the two were close friends she had recently moved in with him as a way of saving some money and making living easier for the both of them.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked when enter the house and closing the door behind him while heading towards the kitchen to make himself something to eat while he listened to MJ type away on her computer. “Just on a new article.” She answers and looks up from her computer to see Peter searching the fridge. MJ took the opportunity to close her laptop and rush over to Peter with a smirk on his face.

“An article about what?” Peter closed the fridge after taking out the orange juice and slightly jolts by MJ’s sudden close appearance, startling him and sighing deeply.

“About Y/n.”

Peter froze at the familiar name.

Even though him and MJ had been friends for years he hadn’t told her or Harry about his past relationship with Y/n he never even mentioned dating someone when he was with them. He wasn’t ashamed he just didn’t want to bring up something he regrets ruining.

“The author?” He stutters out and focused back on pouring himself a drink and setting the carton of orange juice aside while he listened to MJ. “Yeah! I got to interview him about his book and he was very nice.” She went on about her time with Y/n. “Oh! He actually gave me a copy of his book before the release date and I took today to start reading it, I’m half way through but I really like it. I think its kind of cute that he turned his life story into a little fairy tale of his own.” She chuckled while approaching the living room where she picks up the book.

Peters eyes land on the cover page and watched her open the book to where she left off, his eyes averting as he focused on drinking his juice.

“Check this out! While I was reading it I noticed that the love interest has the same name as you.”

Peter chokes on his juice.

Spitting and coughing by the action.

“Are you okay?” MJ approached him, patting his back as she looks at him with worry only for Peter to reassure her that he’s fine and that he choked on his juice, claiming that he was drinking to face when in reality he was shocked by MJ’s words.

“Can I see?” He points towards the open book that she left open on the counter. “sure.” Her approval is all he needed for him to pick up the book and scan the pages, eyes moving back and forth as he read a few paragraphs and noticed how familiar the sounded to him. He doesn’t realize how engrossed he is that MJ clears her throat. “You can borrow it if you want, although you don’t look like the kind of guy who reads this sort of stuff.” She teased, earning a small laugh from Peter.

“You’d be surprised.” He gives off a faint smile, checks turning red as he closed the book. “Would it be alright for me to borrow it? I won’t move your bookmark.” He said.

MJ chuckled while nodding her head. “You can borrow it, just make sure to give it back once your done. I want to know what happens next.”

Peter promises MJ that he’ll return it once he’s finished.

He doesn’t read it right away and instead waits until sunset when he’s getting ready for bed, finally getting the peace and quiet that he needs before he takes the book from his nightstand and stares at the cover, growing nervous by the second until he finally decides to open the book.

Peter spends the entire night reading Y/n’s writing and realizing that his story is a reflection of their past relationship only with a few changes here and there, but it felt like Peter was watching a movie about his past and the things that both he and Y/n did together. He remembers the amount of drafts and ideas that Y/n wold show Peter and how he struggled to write a good story. He remembers Y/n telling him that he wanted a story that his readers would actually enjoy a story that will pull them in to the point where they are begging for more.

The story is written in Y/n’s perspective, obviously using a different name for the character he’s writing about. It’s the way that the words are perfectly written for him to understand and remember those days of them being together. It all came crawling back to him as he nears the end only to find out that the ending was different.

Instead of both characters breaking up the story continues on with Y/n’s perspective of his life in college, not giving much detail about what happened to the relationship and ending with him finding joy in writing. Which leaves Peter questioning himself, why?

When he completes the book he sets it aside sitting in silence and thinking about everything that happened between the two. He thinks about the first time they kisses, their first date, the first time that Y/n convinced Peter to sneak out to a party, the time that Y/n snuck inside Peters bedroom window as the two snuck around like teenagers would.

He also thinks about their break up and how scared he was to even look at Y/n when ending it between the two.

It was obvious that he still loved him and after twelve years he couldn’t let go.

—

Peter shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be at this convention when he clearly told himself that he’d keep his distance and yet, here he stands in a line full of fans that came to see Y/n and get their books signed. His hand gripped a copy of the book, growing anxious each time the line got closer only to chicken out every time he gets close and head back to the end of the line.

His anxiety washed away every time he got to the back of the line and did this almost five times until the line was cut short when announced that this was Y/n’s hour before leaving, meaning that Peter couldn’t turn back nor could he avoid confrontation. His heart raced as the line moved closer, keeping his head down in hopes of avoiding getting attention. He found out that he was the last one in line which would make the whole situation less awkward between the two.

He wouldn’t be holding anyone back and could leave whenever he can without a problem.

That was until his turn came up.

After the young girl in front of him gets her book signed and goes along her day he noticed Y/n turning around in order to get another marker due to the last one running out of ink, not noticing Peter when he approached the table. He slides the book in front of Y/n and when he turns back around his focus is on the book first, smiling as he flips it open.

“Sorry about that my last maker ran out and had to get a new one! But, good thing your the last I’m in no rush!” He chuckled out, being friendly as always as he flips to the front page where he signs his name. “who am I signing this for?”

Peter hesitates.

“Peter Parker.”

He noticed Y/n freeze mid signature, looking up slowly to face Peter.

After twelve years Y/n hadn’t changed a bit, his hair was still the same and so was his sense of fashion, remembering when he was teased for wearing a coat the minute fall started even though it wasn’t even cold outside yet.

The two stare at each other in silence only for Peter to break the tension between them. “I liked your book.”

Y/n blinks at him, focusing back on the book and clearing his throat while he nods. “Thanks…” He finished signing the book and closed the cover, sliding the book back to Peter while avoiding eye contact.

Peter wanted to wince, but it was expected. He ended things terribly between them and didn’t blame Y/n for avoiding him. As he reached out to take the book back into his hand he lets his fingers trace over the binding the tension between them growing even more as they remain silent amongst themselves.

“Why did you end it like that?”

Peters question gets Y/n’s attention, finally looking at him with a confused look. “What?”

“The story, why did you end it like that?”

Y/n licks his lips. “Because I thought it fit well.”

“Even when you know what the ending was really like?”

Peter wasn’t trying to judge his writing or criticize the ending, he was simply confused as to why he ended it when him sounding like everything was fine when in reality the ending would have been different if he had added their break up into it.

Y/n doesn’t know what to say, remaining silent as he stands from his seat and tried to keep himself distracted by cleaning up his area and pouting things away. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I know what its really about.” Peter speaks up, taking a step forward and setting the book down on the table as he watched Y/n collect his things. “You’ve showed me your writing before and I know how much you like being honest in your stories—“

“Not everything has to be true.” Y/n blurts out getting Peters attention who gets cut off mid conversation while looking at the man that he knew loved to write stories with passion who’d quickly pull out his phone the minute an idea came to minute and would note it down for later.

“What do you mean?”

His question causes Y/n to really look at him. “Yes, the story is about us and yes I changed the ending, but that doesn’t mean that everything is true. If you want the truth then I am more than happy to tell you the truth.” He glares at Peter while shoving his jacket inside his bag. “The truth is that I was miserable in college, I hated that place and the people who were there with me. I didn’t care for anyone and I stopped writing for years because every time I sit down and pick up a pen and start writing I can’t help but think about you all the time and that stupid smile on your face. I found it hard to visit my family knowing that you lived just a few blocks down.”

Peters heart races when listening to his explanation.

“So I figured, why not write our story the way I always thought it would be like?”

By the time he was done talking he had finished getting his things, giving peter one last look before leaving, brushing past Peter and making his way towards the exit while Peter stood back and watched. He felt like he was losing him all over again telling himself that it wasn’t worth it and to move on like he has been in the last twelve years, but after reading his book after getting the truth as to why he wrote it he knows he can’t sit back this time and watch as the person he still loves slip away from him.

So, Peter is quick to react. He’s rushing after Y/n and running out of the bookstore, looking both ways until his eyes land on Y/n who walked further up ahead. He’s running after him, chasing down the man and grabbing him by the arm and he pulls him into an alley way, perhaps not the best place but the only one that can give them some privacy from the public eye.

“what are you—!?”

“I’m sorry.” Peter cuts in.

“Peter—“

“No, let me finish.” He cuts in again, this time letting go of Y/n’s arm. “I’m tired of running and I’m tired of letting the best thing get away from me. I know what I did to you was horrible and it was the most dick thing I could ever to do and yes, you should be mad at me and you should hate me for it, but I never stopped thinking about it. You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out and apologize but every time I thought about it I couldn't help but think about how I ended things and I regret everything about it.”

Y/n sighs softly, eyes softening as he leans back against the wall. “Then answer me this, why did you end things?”

Peter froze, the familiar fear crawling back to him.

“Because I.,,” He couldn’t speak. “Because I was afraid to lose you if I told you the truth. I was afraid that you’d possibly stop liking me or end things with me first before anything else.” He was rambling at this point knowing that he wasn’t telling him everything and was still avoiding the truth.

“Peter,” Y/n’s voice is enough to bring him back. “The truth, now.” His tone grew stern, glaring this time.

Peter sighs in defeat. “I didn’t break up with you because of you going to college, I broke up with you because I was afraid of telling you that I’m Spider-Man…” He finally says the words, finally revealing the truth. He expects Y/n to laugh at him or perhaps walk away without a word only to hear the most jaw dropping thing ever.

“I knew.”

‘you knew—how?”

Y/n laughed at Peters shock. “Peter I was always paying attention. I knew that something wasn’t right when you grew distant with me and I didn’t realize until I found your suit hidden under your bed. I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend was Spider-Man until I started piecing everything together.” He explains to Peter. “You were always late to our dates, ditching classes which you never do, I even noticed the amount of muscles you gained when we were in gym together.”

Peter blushed at the last statement not realizing how much Y/n stared at him each time he changed in front of him.

“If you knew why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out and instead I decided to wait until you were ready to tell me…and this is the results.” He points a finger between the two, realizing that this all caused them to break up even when he already knew. Peter felt even worse now that he knew the truth, wanting to punch himself and feeling ashamed of himself.

While Peter cursed at himself for everything, Y/n speaks up with a small smile on his face. “So you thought about me?” Peter blushed at his comment. “Yeah.” He answers honestly, staring at the man who chuckled. “You wrote a book about me.”

“Technically it wasn’t about you it was about us.”

“Still counts,”

Y/n can only laugh which makes Peter smile feeling like teenagers again. Their laughter and smiles bring them back memories of their time together and perhaps they can make new ones

[star-writr]

The Music Room

Another 10th Doctor x reader drabble. Requests are appreciated. You can also find this on my Ao3. Reader is gn and plays guitar. Enjoy!!

You had always been the TARDIS's favourite companion. Every-so-often, the spaceship would make a whirring noise in your presence, and if the Doctor was around he would smile and tell you: "she says you're the best person I've ever brought on board". It always made you chuckle and stroke the control panel in an attempt to return the flattery, which made the Time Lord either sarcastically ask if you two wanted to be alone, or look at you quietly with a gleam in his eye before suddenly announcing your next adventure.

As if that wasn't enough to make you see that the TARDIS had a weak spot for you, she would always find ways of comforting you when something was wrong; before you could even sigh with exasperation, you'd be distracted from your troubles by a familiar smell of blackberry pie, or by your favourite song playing faintly on a radio somewhere, or by a book dropping next to you on the cold pavement from god-knows-where.

In a similar occasion, returning in the TARDIS after almost dying as usual, the ship's hallway lighting threw you off a bit. You were just trying to reach your room, only wanting to collapse on the bed, but it was almost as if she didn't want you to, leading you in a different direction. The blinking light bulbs guided you until reaching a door; it looked exactly the same as all the others, so at first you couldn't understand what made it so special that the TARDIS wanted you to find it. As soon as you saw what was inside, however, everything else slipped off your mind.

It was a room full of instruments. There was a huge piano between some marble columns, resting on a glass pedestal; a drum set occupied a nearby corner; and, shifting your vision, you were greeted by the biggest guitar and bass collection you had ever laid eyes on. Every last one of them looked like it had been taken straight out of your dreams and into that room.

Since then, you had found yourself visiting that paradise every time you had the chance. You already knew how to play a guitar, so you usually handled those, shifting between different models. There were brands you had heard of and brands you didn't recognise, and they came in every possible colour imaginable. You were fond of all of them, especially the more extravagant ones with unusual shapes.

The Doctor was aware of how you spent most of your time on the TARDIS, and didn't have anything against it. You wouldn't lock the door or anything, so everytime the Time Lord wanted to check up on you, you'd let him. Sometimes he'd linger in the room, sit down on the floor while you attempted to read a music sheet, or he would suggest you played something so he could sing it. The Doctor wasn't very fond of or very good at singing, but it gave him an excuse to stay with you a little longer, and that was enough for him. On very rare occasions, he would also ask you to tutor him. Of course, he had picked up many guitars in his 900+ years of life, and knew perfectly well how to play, but again, he wanted to spend time with you without admitting it was for no reason other than his fondness of you. Honestly, his hearts melted every time your fingers stroke those strings, making him helplessly realize that he couldn't get away, and that he didn't want to. Therefore, he obliged to his feelings, staying by your side as long as possible. And you were more than okay with it.

With time, your bond grew stronger, making you question your feelings again and again. The music room kept almost all of your attention on each other, so to avoid feeling helpless your ritual started to take place in complete silence. Aside from monosyllabic replies to monosyllabic questions, you and the Doctor didn't talk as much as before, but it went without acknowledging, growing on you both. That habit came to a halt when the TARDIS made the first move instead of either of her passengers, tired of the mutual pining and determined to fill the silence that had grown inside the room. After all, it was a music room. It wasn't meant to be quiet.

She made sure it didn't go silent ever again by doing the only thing she could, which was locking both of you in. As soon as you realized the door wouldn't open, it startled you.

"What if there's something wrong with the TARDIS, Doctor?" you worried, while he tried to get the door open with his sonic.

The alien sighed. "The only thing wrong here is her attitude," he mumbled, "she's doing this deliberately. Let us out!"

You were confused. "How do you know? Why would she do that?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, putting one index finger on your lips, shushing you, and the other on his own. The TARDIS was speaking to him. A few expressions made their way onto his face, substituting each other and, once the spaceship's whirrs quieted down, shifting into a frown. The first thing he did was thank the stars that you couldn't understand the TARDIS. The second thing he did was curse everything because you didn't understand the TARDIS and he had to tell you everything himself.

"What happened? What did she say?" you whispered, his finger still on your lips. He removed it quickly and took one good look at your unaware expression.

The Doctor acknowledged the knot in his stomach and looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you. You were gorgeous to him, too gorgeous to ignore. It would've made him stutter, and he hated stuttering.

"There may or may not be something you need to know" he started.

"About what?"

"About..." about how much I want to kiss you, the Doctor thought. "...about me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the TARDIS?"

"She locked us in here because she's giving me no choice but to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The thing. About me. The thing you don't know."

"Yes, I know that. But what is it, then?"

It was one of the very rare times when the Doctor genuinely did not know what words to use, which was worrying considering how much the Doctor liked words. He got out of life threatening situations with words. He also got into those same life threatening situations with words. He liked words, he really did. He also liked you. Considering he liked both you and words, the realization of not knowing what words to use with you was like a slap on the cheek. Specifically, it was exactly like one of those slaps only mothers gave him. Specifically his companions' mothers. He remembered Martha Jones and her mother. He also remembered Donna, but not her mother, because it was Donna herself who slapped him a couple times. Maybe more that a couple. She would've probably slapped him now. "Tell them, you twat!" she would've shouted. It would have been very effective. It would've certainly got him to say something, anything, even "ouch", which would've been better than standing completely still like he was doing now. A slap, that's what he needed. "I'm a genius", he thought. Then he slapped himself.

"Doctor!" you exclaimed.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I needed that. Sorry."

You took his hands in yours. "Are you alright? Is it something bad? Do you have to tell me something bad?"

"No. Well, it depends."

You kept looking in his eyes, insistent and a bit curious.

The Doctor held his breath. "Look, the thing is I'm usually good with words. What I'm not good at is speeches. I hate speeches. Especially heat-felt speeches. I like listening to speeches, but I don't like when they come from my mouth, because before they get to my mouth they go through my brain, and my brain is too messy to actually figure out a speech without screwing it up and changing the subject too many times. And now I have to give you a speech."

You smiled, a bit amused. "And, in a few words, what is this speech about?"

"Uhm. Well. I can think of a couple things." The Doctor looked away.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I want to kiss you. And go out with you."

You smiled, surprised. "On a date?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need to figure out the speech first."

"The speech to ask me out on a date?"

"Yes. I just need a second."

"Go right ahead. I'll wait."

He smiled. "Thanks."

The Doctor spent more than a second with his thinking face on. Then, he realized what he just said, and looked at you with his eyebrows raised and his lips parting without making a sound. You laughed, hugging him. It didn't take long to hug you back.

"I'll go on a date with you, Doctor" you said, kissing him on the cheek and causing him to blush. "However many dates you want."

"No speech needed?" he asked, smirking.

"No speech needed" you replied.