#HE WATCHED ME UPLOAD STUFF ONTO AO3 ONCE HES A CREEP

[ao3bronte]

when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different. 

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck. 

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

~

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.” 

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties. 

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush. 

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers! 

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!” 

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!” Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?” 

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

[bjy-on-ao3]

Would you be willing to write a fic for Levi (from Obey Me!) where the reader gives him a blow job while he plays video games? Thank you!

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Obey Me! Is apparently just my fandom now for when I want to write fics without heavily plotting out the dialogue first. I don’t know why, but it seems to work out well enough. Thought this one seemed like it didn’t require a ton of coherent speaking, as I imagine Leviathan would be an incoherent mess in a case like this.Fulfilling as a request from a Tumblr anon for reader giving Leviathan a blowjob while he plays video games.  I likely won’t take other Leviathan requests besides this, simply because of all the brothers, Levi and Mammon are the lowest on my list and I find I have the hardest time studying for them when I write stuff like this. (This should be gender neutral, but if for some reason I overlooked something, and it’s not, someone yell at me so I can correct it.) Summary Reader interrupts Leviathan while he’s playing some games on his computer. They want to play a little game of their own with him. Tags/Warnings Blowjobs, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut

Distraction (GN! Reader/Leviathan)

The sudden sharp rap of knuckles on the door of his made Leviathan nearly jump in his seat, snapping him out of the focus that previously had belong to the game he was playing. He sat up straighter in his chair, golden eyes flickering between the monitor and the door. The interruption at a crucial moment earned him a game over and the prompt to begin again. The knocking rang out again, more forcefully, followed by a voice.

You waited outside for several seconds, hearing nothing. Raising your curled fist to drum on the door a third time, thinking he had fallen asleep or was out picking up some new figurine or game that Akuzon didn’t have. But as you drew your hand back, the customary TSL question that came with knocking on Leviathan’s door met you.

You smiled at the question, which always sounded passingly suspicious. You wondered if he always asked, even when he knew who was on the other side of the door, simply because he enjoyed the exchange more than he let on; a reminder the person in the hall still shared interest for one his favorite things. You thought for a moment, trying to recall the answer needed. You called it out loud and clear so he wouldn’t mishear through the door.

There was another period of silence and you waited, positive your answer was the correct one. Sure enough, the door opened and Leviathan was already moving away from the frame to let you in, leaving it to you to close the door behind you.

“Oh crap, did I interrupt you?” You asked sheepishly, glancing over at his computer monitor and noting the ominous screen prompting him to ‘try again?’.

“N-no, I mean, yes,” Leviathan began. That cute nervousness you saw a lot concerning your presence was already at work, it seemed. His face fell for an instant as he realized you might misconstrue his answer as blaming you. “But that’s alright! I can get back there again, easy!” He declared, the previous shaky tone drowned out by his confidence in his gaming abilities.

You stifled a small laugh in your throat, looking over at the screen again. It looked like a game you had seen before, one that Leviathan had shown you, in fact. You had seen that prompt too many times in the beginning to not recognize it.

“Would it be alright if I watched for a little bit?” You asked brightly, meeting his eyes.

The nerves bubbled up again, and you could see them clearly, but were quickly replaced once he processed your question. The new expression on his face was nearly ecstatic, nerves dying all over again in the joy or you expressing interest of watching him play.

“Oh, sure. After I beat this level, we can play something together… i-if you want?” The sentence was strong and happy to start, but trickled away into a soft apprehension.

You beamed at him and nodded. “Sounds good to me!” you cheered and noted the cute blush that tinged his cheeks from your enthusiasm.

Turning away, Leviathan made his way back to his chair and plopped down. You followed once you ensured the door was closed securely. The last thing you needed was to give one of his brothers an excuse to come barging because you accidentally left it ajar or unlatched. You looked at several other seats scattered around his room, to accommodate times when he allowed others into the room to play with him, but didn’t sit down. You opted instead to stand behind him, peering past his shoulder.

You knew it made him a little nervous when you got close, but it was fun to see his focus waver and watch his cheeks color more while he was aware of your presence - at least until he sank back into his zone of focus. Once everything faded away, it was like you weren’t even there and he would relax. It was a game you played in the past, and you knew just how to break his focus over and over when he slipped into it. Your intentions weren’t malicious, of course, and had he asked you to stop, you gladly would have done so.

You lay your forearms over the back of the computer chair, careful not to press down too hard and tilt it back. Leviathan glanced out of the corner of his eyes, cheeks still cutely pink, but he turned back to the screen, trying to ignore the new distraction. ‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ he told himself. Sure, you had confessed before you loved the time you spent with him, more so than your time with his brothers or the others outside the House of Lamentations you were close with. Still, he had trouble believing anyone could truly have an interest in a shut-in like himself.

You made short, quiet quips regarding the game as you watched him play, accompanying each with a gentle touch on his shoulder or neck. He answered dutifully, though his voice quivered whenever your fingertips brushed over his skin. His skin was pleasantly cool to the touch, despite the reddish tinge creeping past his cheeks and down his neck, too. You let one finger linger a little longer than the others.

The grating sound denoting Leviathan had died again in-game burst from his headset, and the game over scared flashed once more. He heaved a small, frustrated sigh,  and you couldn’t but smile mischievously behind him.

“This level seems pretty hard,” you commented absently, working to suppress your grin.

“O-oh, y-yeah, it can be kinda tricky,” Leviathan answered, relieved to have an excuse for the death. He didn’t want you realizing you were the distraction knocking down his skill level.

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon. Don’t mind me though, no rush!” you reassured him. However long it took Leviathan to complete the level, you got to have fun. If it took him a while thanks to your ‘help’, it meant more lingering touches and teasing, and if he finished it early enough, you got to spend some time bonding over the game picked out next. A win-win situation, to be sure.

He nodded, staring at the game again. You waited innocently for a moment, repeating the same subtle actions as before, as if you weren’t quite paying attention to what you were doing, letting him settle a bit before you moved on. A look of determined slowly fell over his face, the flush in his cheeks a little less obvious. But his normally narrow pupils had dilated, just barely visible beneath his fringe of violet hair. You debated if you should just let him be for the evening and have your fun some other time.

‘No,’ you decided, letting your hands slip away from Leviathan’s shoulders, leaning further onto the chair. Your chin rested near his shoulder, hands poised on the armrests on either side of him. The telltale signs you were distracting him shone through again once he noticed how much closer you were, even though separated much by the back of the chair.

But he could feel the heat of yours and face near him, much more pleasant than his chill skin. Your breath tickled lightly, and he had to stop from squirming in his seat, lest he give himself away. He was determined not to react, to pay it no mind, stubbornness assuring him again it meant nothing despite what his screaming brain suggested.

You had to give him credit for the levels of denial he achieved now and then. Sure, you appreciated he never assumed more of you than you meant to give, but sometimes it became frustrating, making it hard to make an obvious enough trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. Not because he was stupid, but just stubborn and lacking the confidence to assume you could mean what your hints suggested.

Your attention faltered from the display, ignoring the sound of another game over, and you glanced down at Leviathan’s lap. It wasn’t the most prominent, but you could make out a bulge growing in his pants, a sign you were having more of an effect than making him blush and stutter or impeding his focus. Though you hadn’t caught his full attention in that regard, not yet, not with how he was surely trying to push the unchaste thoughts aside and ignore your proximity. You wondered how much could ignore from a real distraction, though.

“Hey, Levi, it’s not that I’m not enjoying watching you play or anything, but would you mind if I entertained myself a little while I wait for your to finish?” you requested, still leaning close, so your words skated over his ear. You smiled at the shiver he couldn’t stifle in time before he spoke.

“I-I-I...s-sure. It’s fine, I’m sure it’s boring!” he said, tripping over words and trying to shake off the haze threatening to distract him further.

“Oh, no, it’s not boring at all!” you reassured him. You didn’t want him thinking you found him or what he enjoyed doing boring. “Just, don’t mind me and keep playing, okay?” you insisted, standing up straight.

What you were planning was a leap for sure, but you were going to give it a shot. Your curiosity wouldn’t let the thought go once it had surfaced. You hoped once Leviathan realized what you intended, he’d enjoy it.

You swept around the chair, ducking down and beneath his desk, pressing both hands to his knees. Instantly, all focus Leviathan had left exploded, and when you looked up, his was a brilliant crimson, eyes round and enormous. A torrent of nervous gibberish flooded past his lips, his brain short circuiting.

“Levi, it’s alright,” you reassured him. “Just keep playing. Remember, I said not to mind me?” You waited, searching and listening for signs he wanted you to stop, and wasn’t just flustered.

“I-I… b-but.” He took a deep breath, as if it would allow him to restore his sanity, before turning his gaze up, trying not to peek back down.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked from your knees. You wanted to be sure whether it was his insecurity and embarrassment or true distaste and uncertainty causing him to protest.

His words tumbled out explosively, face screwing up, red and flustered as he tried still not to focus on you too much. “I-I-I… that’s not… y-you don’t have to…” Leviathan trailed off, pausing before continuing in a mumble. “N-no, you can keep going, I just thought…” His words became so soft you couldn’t really make them out anymore, but you sadly knew he was likely battling with his self-esteem again, declaring himself a gross otaku or some other awful moniker for the umpteenth time.

“Just so you know, I’m doing this because I want to and I like you a lot, Levi,” you told him unwaveringly. He didn’t answer, sitting there tomato red. He nodded and turned his attention back to the controller in his hands.

Your own attention flitted down, back to his lap, where the evidence of how you affected him had grown more prominent than before. Rubbing soothing circles on his knees, after a moment you reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. A sharp inhale hissed through the air, and your eyes danced up for an instant before focusing on the task at hand. You dragged the waistband of his pants down carefully, pulling his boxers along with them.

The erection you knew had been straining against his underwear sprang free, standing proud and unashamed in contrast to its embarrassed owner. You heard the tapping of buttons above you, the faint sound of the game from before filtering down from Leviathan’s headphones, though slower and less practiced. Tentatively, you wrapped one hand around his shafter, stroking up and down smoothly. He rewarded you with another sharp inhale and small, stifled sound.

You tightened your grip, pumping your hand up and down a little faster. Even more soft noises met you, the clack of the controller stalling, though you could tell Leviathan was doing his best to do as you asked. You eyed the wet bead of pre-cum that leaked from the head of his cock and flicked an impish glance up to him before focusing back down.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and letting your tongue loll out, lapping coyly at the pearl of fluid. Its bitter flavor burst over your tongue and you licked at the head again, the salty tang of his skin complementing the first taste. Above you, Leviathan let out a groan you weren’t sure if couldn’t suppress or hadn’t wanted to. You didn’t think on it long, the lingering taste of him and the heady smell of musk filling your senses.

Your lips wrapped around the head fully, mouthing and sucking and twirling your tongue around it. You shifted your grip, one hand caressing the base of his dick, the other cupping his balls and massaging them gently. The noise of the game pause for several seconds, as if Leviathan had momentarily forgotten about it. You took the chance to take in more of his cock, rubbing your tongue along the underside and you went, tracing the line of a thick, throbbing vein.

He whimpered loudly before you had even taken him halfway, and you heard your name follow in a needy, strained tone. His chest heaved shakily above you, and you looked up again as best you could with your lips around him. His fingers moved over the controller in a way that was very clumsy compared to his typical video game dexterity. Your distraction was shattering his concentration quite successfully, but you appreciated how hard at least he was still trying.

When you reached the bottom of his cock, the tip pressing against your throat, you swallowed, and a half-choked moan spilled out from Leviathan’s lips. His hips stuttered a little involuntarily, and you drew back, hollowing your cheeks. You pulled back until only the tip of your tongue flickered over his tick, teasing the head again and making choke out another embarrassing sound. You sank back down to engulf him in your hot mouth all over again, savoring each new, obscene sound it elicited from him.

You nearly jumped back when something cool and soft and leathery brushed along your hand and then your cheek. You calmed when out of the corner of your eyes you realized it was only Leviathan’s tail. Another quick half-glance upward confirmed in his arousal and distraction, he had shifted into his demon form. His tail wrapped lazily around and down, the pleasantly cool, scaly skin stroking your cheek and neck tenderly.

From the sounds above you as you continued to lave his dick with attention, glistening with your saliva as you pulled away each time, it sounded as if he had gone completely to pieces. Sure enough, his breathing grew even more labored, and the sound of his fingers on the controller stopped altogether. Clack. The loud sound of the controller clattering to the desk reached you. His focus was broken entirely, and he couldn’t pretend any longer.

“I-I tried, but…” he began in a groan, his attempt to sound apologetic ruined by the huskiness of his voice.

To assure you weren’t displeased with him, you increased your pace, sucking harder. Without the game to focus on, Leviathan melted into a pliant, desperate puddle. One newly freed hand moved to stroke your head and accompany his tail, while the other held the edge of his desk like a vice. His hips bucked in small, needy motions and you moaned around his cock.

Leviathan moaned and whine freely now, save for biting his lip, though even still he was pleasantly loud. You wondered absently what his brothers might think if they heard the noise or knew what you were doing. Not that it was really any of their business, of course.

From the frantic way Leviathan rocked his hips, his heavy breathing, and the way his dick twitched and throbbed, you knew he was so very close. He whimpered your name again, once, twice.

“I-I’m gonna…” Leviathan’s tried to warn you, but the arrival of his release silenced him, the warning a little too late as he came hard.

You greedily took in as much of his cock as you could as he finished, swallowing each salty, bitter jet of cum that washed over your tongue. You groaned as you swallowed, and above you his voice reflected the lust of the sound. When finally he had no more to offer, his chest rising and falling harshly, you pulled back. You stopped only to clean anything you had missed, before sitting back and licking your lips. You looked up at the still very red and flustered demon. He looked utterly exhausted, but his golden gaze skittered away shyly when you met it and you smiled at how cute he looked again.

He mumbled an apology again that was only partially audible, and you shook your head. “You did great, Levi, don’t worry. Besides, ti was fun. And, you know, if you want, we can practice some more so you get can get even better,” you suggested bawdily.

Levi looked torn, both mortified and excited by the idea, seeming as if he might combust. But you knew he wouldn’t say no the next time around.

[sleepyverstappens]

I wanna be praised from a new perspective (Chapter 2/3)

Title: I wanna be praised from a new perspective

Pairing: Christian Horner/Max Verstappen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count; 8.8k so far

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Age Difference, Praise Kink, Facials, Loud Sex

Summary: He smiles back at Christian, the grin big on his face as that praise feels like a warm hand rubbing over his back, nails scratching over his skin softly. Christian is so enthusiastic with it and there’s no but hanging in the air. There’s no, you know you got lucky with the Mercedes’ crashing out, right? No, there’s just Christian telling him what a good job he did.

Or Max and Christian celebrate Max’s wins in a special way.

A/N:  Surprise! I couldn't help myself and since I wrote quite a bit of chapter 3 today I felt like I could go and upload chapter 2 already, even though I set out to do an upload once a week. So lucky you I guess :P   

Read on AO3

Mexican Grand Prix, Mexico City, 2017

After that first time meeting up at the factory in Milton Keynes had been a little awkward. Come Monaco though everything seems to be back to normal. Well apart from him crashing into the wall. It certainly doesn’t lend for celebration.

Nothing happens in Malaysia either, he'd been far too ill to do any sort of celebrating. But Mexico is different, he's top fit again and it feels like a pretty easy race for him after the first few laps. It's a different thing for Christian though, the older man riddled with anxiety throughout the race as he sees Renault engine after Renault engine fail.

The hug he gives Max is tight as anxiety finally seeps away from his body. It probably lingers a little too long, but he can feel that the other man needs this right now. Everyone's attention is on Lewis anyway, the cameras following the now four time world champion running around with a British flag, instead of them.

He doesn't know why, but before Christian even knocks on his door later that afternoon he knows whatever happened in Barcelona will happen again. Both of them had been firm in their believe that it was very much a one time thing after Barcelona. Something in their veins that needed to get out and once it was out it was out. But now, now he just knows it won't stay like that. He'd seen the look in Christian's eyes after they pulled out of their embrace, his eyes darkening as they flicked down to where Max was biting his lip. They'd both felt it then, so it isn't a surprise when there's a knock at the door later.

Christian closes the door behind him and locks it as soon as Max tells him to come in, doesn't even bother to check if there is anyone else in the room. It’s not like he couldn’t come up with a feasible excuse for meeting one of his drivers though. The way his jeans are stretching just a little too tight around his crotch would be more difficult to explain.

Max drops his phone onto the table next to him and looks up at Christian as he walks in, the other man’s gaze is fully focussed on him, eyes darkening. There’s really no need to question why Christian is here right now.

“Hi,” Max says with a cheeky smile, licking his lips for extra measure. He’s about to get up from the sofa when Christian tells him to ‘ come here ’. He goes willingly, anticipation really going wild now. Christian’s lips on his own feel like heaven, like he can barely remember it from before, yet remembers every single inch of those lips and how they connect with his own.

The kiss is slow for about five seconds and then Christian’s mouth presses firmer against his own. His teeth nipping at the soft flesh of Max’s lips and demanding access. Max opens up for him, but not before he gets in a stinging bite of his own. Their tongues touch and slide against each other, Christian seeking out what lingers of the taste of champagne. They groan almost simultaneously, Christian drawing away to catch his breath not long after.

“God Max, you were incredible out there. You had it from the start and never faltered. No one could stop you, not even the goddamn Renault engine that took out so many today.”

“Eh it was easy,” he can’t help but tease Christian.

“Yeah you made it look like it for sure, with those lap times even when we told you to slow down.”

“Should really have cut the track huh to make things more interesting,” he says with a cheeky grin, repeating his words from earlier in the car.

“Oh shush, you cheeky git.”

“Why don’t you make me,” Max dares, biting his lip suggestively.

Christian just shakes his head, but leans back in to do just that anyway. His lips firm as they press back onto Max’s. They hadn’t really been taking things slow before, so they pick right up where they left off. Soon enough he feels Christian’s hands pull at his shirt, pulling it up until it gets stuck around his neck and they have to break the kiss. Max takes that opportunity to rid Christian of his own shirt, thankfully no annoying row of buttons on a button down this time.

His hands fall to Christian’s waist, roaming over his soft belly, thumb brushing over the trail of hair leading towards his pants. Christian lets out a groan as he dips his fingers underneath the waistband of his jeans, his tongue momentarily frozen, before he drags it over the roof of Max’s mouth.  

His lets his fingers creep further down, the squeeze of Christian’s jeans tight around his wrist as he buries his hand underneath. As he wraps his hand around the shape of Christian’s cock he can feel the wet patch he’s already left on his boxers, feels it grow wetter as he squeezes around him.

His left hand fumbles with the buttons of Christian’s jeans then, tugging the fabric loose and giving his right hand more room to work. He gives the other man’s cock a few more squeezes through the fabric before finally slipping his hand underneath that last layer of clothing as well. Christian’s mouth falls open against his own as he groans out when Max finally wraps his hand around him, breath warm and wet against Max’s lips now.

“Fuck yes.”

“Yeah?” Max teases, making his strokes slow down just because he can. He chuckles at the glare he receives from Christian then, his hips pushing forward to get Max to move.

“For fuck’s sake Max, come on.”

Max quirks an eyebrow then, challenging the other man to do something about it as he deliberately keeps his strokes just as slow. It takes one… two… three more strokes for Christian to take action, his hands firm on Max’s wrist as he pulls his hand away from his cock. Instead he makes quick work of the buttons on Max’s jeans, pulling the stiff material down his legs along with his boxer briefs, making Max hiss against the cool air hitting his cock.

It’s already standing proud, head slightly damp with precome and he moans out in relieve as Christian wraps his hand around him. There’s only a few quick strokes of his hand before it leaves again though. Christian’s eyes roam the room until they land on Max’s black wash bag. “Stuff still in the same place?”

Max nods, another swoop of anticipation going through his belly as he watches Christian reach for the bag. He quickly grabs what he needs and then pushes his own jeans and boxers down his legs, before moving back over towards where Max is standing. A slow passionate kiss against his lips and then his body is twisted around and pushes forward. Forward until his shins hit the edge of the sofa, and forward some more until he’s kneeling on the soft grey fabric, hands clenched around the back of it.

Christian spits out the piece of the wrapper he’d ripped off with his teeth and then there’s the distinct sound of lube slick fingers rubbing against each other. Christian’s clean hand tugs one of his arse cheeks aside and then the fingers of his other hand are rubbing over his crack wetly.

“Come on,” he urges, as Christian takes a few too many up and down strokes without actually pressing his fingers into him. The other man just strokes up and down a few more times just to get him back from before, but then finally he feels the tip of one of his fingers start to press against his hole. He sucks in a deep breath and forces his body to relax around it quickly, pressing back against Christian to tell him to get on with it. He just needs his cock already.

One becomes two and the stretch of them makes him moan a little too loud, but right now he doesn’t care, he just needs more. They drag against his insides deliciously, sparks slowly starting to shoot through his body with each push and pull of Christian’s fingers. Only simmering down a little as a third finger sneaks in next to the other two, the stretch making him hiss out against it a little.

“Enough,” he says after a few more thrusts of Christian’s fingers, can’t help being bossy right now. He just needs Christian inside him already and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. So when those long thick fingers leave him, he’s already pushing his arse up, waiting for Christian’s cock.    

He hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper getting opened and then the blunt head of Christian’s cock is pressing against his hole. The thick head of it presses in slowly, his body clenching around it tightly once it’s in. He forces himself to relax around it, pressing back on the stretch and taking in the rest of Christian’s cock.

Christian’s hands are tight on his hips and he groans out a low and guttural sound as he starts to move slowly. The stretch is wide and it makes him bite at his lip hard, a moan that’s somewhere between pain and pleasure bubbling up his throat. Another moan, more on the side of pleasure this time and Christian starts picking up the pace.

His hands loosen a little around where he’d been gripping the backrest of the sofa tightly, letting the pleasure take over, his legs spreading a little wider. Small little noises escape from his lips, pitching higher with each thrust.

“Yes,” he groans low, in such contrast to the sounds he’s been making, his body moving back against Christian on each of his thrusts. He feels Christian switch angles just a little on each thrust forward until finally...

“Fuck yes, right there, right there!”

“Shh, people will hear,” Christian hisses into his ear, cock burying deeper as he leans over him and only drawing more high pitched noises from him. He can’t think rationally right now, the pleasure shooting through his whole body overwhelming his senses.

He tries, bites at his lip hard as Christian keeps pressing against his prostate, moans clogging up his throat. Now that he has found the right angle though the other man doesn’t let up anymore, pushing forward at just the right angle and making his body tingle. With each thrust forward he has to bite at his lip harder, until he can’t keep the moans in anymore.  

“I can’t, I can’t,” he sobs, eyes clenched tightly shut as he tries, he really does try to keep quiet again. His nerve endings keep firing though, sending sparks through his body and whimpers up his throat. They’ve only really just started but he already knows he’s not going to last, his aching cock hitting his belly with each of Christian’s thrusts and leaving a wet trail behind. “I’m not gonna last.”

His face is buried into the crook of his elbow, his own teeth leaving marks on the skin of his arms as he bites down to keep the noises at bay. Half formed whimpers getting stuck in his throat as he can almost taste his orgasm now. He feels one of Christian’s hands leave his hip, creeping closer to his cock instead. He’s about to let out a relieved moan when he feels it wrap around his length, but then the hand clenches around the base of him tightly staving off the release he’s been chasing. He pushes his hips back as he struggles against the feeling of his pleasure seeping away, pushing himself back onto Christian’s cock in the process and making it spark alight again quickly.

The firm hold Christian has on him keeps his orgasm at bay though, his body surrendered to Christian. The other man has switched to slow but deep thrusts now, his hips slick against Max’s arse. The longer Christian’s hold stays on him the more he feels like he’s gonna die if he doesn’t come right now. It feels like literally all of his blood has retreated towards his nether regions and he has barely any brain power left to keep himself upright, fingers clenched into the soft fabric of the sofa underneath him tightly again.

The gasp that leaves his lips when Christian’s firm hold releases and instead turns to the lightest of movements is ridiculous. He has to bite down onto his arm again to stop from shouting and cursing Christian to hell, because it’s not enough. Not enough at all and yet with just a few more of those barely there strokes he’s coming. He’s moaning into the sofa as droplets of come splash against his heaving stomach, Christian’s wrist and down onto the sofa. The pearly white of it in such contrast to the anthracite gray of the sofa.  

Christian continues to thrust into him while he’s gasping for breath and he feels the other man’s thrusts get less coordinated, knows he isn’t far behind him now. And then all of a sudden he’s stopping Christian, one of his hands firms on the other’s hip, his mind made up.

“Wait,” he says as he tries to twist his body around on what little space he has whilst still trapped between Christian and the sofa. He hears Christian hiss out as his cock falls away from Max’s body. He looks up at Christian’s face, going red from exertion. At the sweat dripping down his chest. And waits for Christian to meet his gaze, blinking up slowly at him with wide but determined eyes. “Come on my face.”

Christian’s groan is low and guttural again as he takes in Max’s words, eyes going wide for a second. He doesn’t need to be told twice though as one hand already tugs the condom loose from around his cock, digits wrapping around it instead. The other hand falls to Max’s chin, positioning him just right.

The firm hold on his chin keeps his gaze firmly focussed on Christian and he knows by the twitch of his eye that he’s about to come. He lets his eyes fall shut then, mouth falling open and ears pierced for any noises Christian makes as he strokes himself towards his release. He feels the first drop of come hit his cheek, sliding down slowly before another one falls onto his face, closer to his mouth now. Bursts of come keep splashing against him hotly, some of it sticking to his cupid’s bow, before the next drops finally land on his waiting tongue.

He feels Christian’s cock slap against his tongue lightly as the lasts few drops get pushed onto it. He closes his mouth around the tip of it then, sucking Christian clean and drawing another garbled groan from him.

“Fuck. Look at you, such a pretty mess.” Christian says, making Max blink his eyes open slowly, pleased smile on his face. Christian’s hand that’s been holding his chin leaves then, thumb swiping over some of the mess on his cheek before letting Max suck it into his mouth.

“That was amazing,” Max can’t help but say a little awed, his voice rough from overuse. Christian smiles one of his Christian smiles, face all soft and eyes alight, before he goes in search of his clothes.

Christian grabs a towel from the closet and gives himself a perfunctory wipe down before throwing it towards Max. He lets the towel fall onto his lap, unused for now. He finds his phone on the table instead and unlocks it, switching on the camera app and focuses it onto himself. Christian’s come is still streaked across his cheeks, some still sticking to his cupid’s bow and he looks absolutely debauched. He likes how he looks, he really does, so he snaps a picture of himself. He then drags a finger through the mess on his left cheek and sucks it into his mouth, snapping more pictures.

He doesn’t notice the way Christian is looking at him as the other man continues to grab clothes from the floor. Doesn’t see the way Christian’s shoulders go tense as he looks at his pupil taking pictures of himself. The pupil with his team principal’s come streaked across his face.

Satisfied with the pictures he’d taken he grabs the towel from his lap and wipes the rest of his face clean, before looking over at Christian. His back arched as he bends down to step back into his jeans. He reaches for his phone again, camera app still opened as he unlocks it once more and then points it at the other man.

“What are you doing?” Christian hisses at him from across the room as he finally looks back towards Max, face twisting up in a complicated way.

He’d just wanted to capture the moment. Christian looking all rumpled, hair a mess from where Max had been tugging on the strands. His shirt stretched behind him as Christian had worked his arms into the sleeves. And the buttons of his jeans still undone, belt hanging loose, showing just a little glimpse of his dark blue boxers.

“Taking a picture, what does it look like? You looked good, so sue me if I wanted to remember that.”

“You can’t Max. God, you can’t have pictures of me like that on your phone.”

“Don’t worry I know how to password protect them, no one is gonna see.”

“Max come on, delete those. God knows someone might hack into your phone and that’s it we’re done. Our careers will be done. Don’t you fucking understand that.”

Christian has started to pace now, gesturing wildly as he hisses those words at him. It’s so different from just a few minutes ago. His words turning vile, when before they’d praised him. Face irritated, verging on angry as he gestures at Max’s phone that hides the evidence and nothing like the gentle smile that had been on it earlier. Nothing like the pure pleasure and satisfaction written on it when he’d come all over Max’s face.

And Max should’ve known, he should’ve known not to let himself get dragged into this again after Christian’s rejection last time. He should’ve known it would happen again, that Christian wouldn’t lay down next to him on the way too tiny sofa and relish in post coital bliss. God he should’ve known, yet he still let it happen.

“Max, I’m serious. If someone found out. God this is all kinds of wrong, you do realise that right.You’re so young still and I’m your team principal, there’s a power difference here it’s gonna look like I forced you into this. God I did, didn’t I? I just barged in here and took what I pleased, fuck. Fuck!”

And no, no that won’t do. He’s not gonna let Christian think he’s forced him into this. He was stupid to let this happen again for sure, but nobody forces him to do anything especially not this.

“No one forces me to do anything, you of all people should know that by now Christian!” He hisses back, all of a sudden very much aware of the people still roaming the energy station again.

“No one will believe that Max. This can’t happen again, for real this time. And delete those goddamn pictures!” Christian says before he slams the door closed behind him, leaving Max alone, naked and shivering. Not from the cold though, no from once again getting rejected by the older man.

He lets himself fall back onto the sofa again and feels something dig into his leg and reaches for it. It’s a watch, Tag Heuer of course, but it’s not his own. The hands displaying the time aren’t orange like on his own custom made one. It must be Christian’s then, forgotten after it had somehow gotten loose when they’d been fucking.

He looks it over, the leather is smooth and soft underneath his fingers, clearly worn a lot. There’s a few scratches on the glass covering the clock face, but other than that it looks fine. With a frustrated yell he throws it at the opposite wall, the distinct crack of glass breaking loud and satisfying in his ears.

---  

“Yo Max over here!” Daniel shouts almost as soon as Max enters the bar, it’s crowded but not so bad it gives him instant claustrophobia, so he mavouvres his way over to Daniel and some of the crew.  

He gratefully accepts the bottle of beer Dan hands him as he reaches the bar, gulping down half of it in one go.

“Wow, someone is ready to get celebrating.”

He just frowns at Daniel, he’s still pissed about Christian’s rejection and hadn’t really wanted to come out, but the promise of alcohol had convinced him pretty easily. He’d gotten Daniel’s text not long after Christian had left his room. Dan’s text consisting of way too many emojis and exclamation marks, but it had managed to calm his anger slightly. He doesn’t know how Daniel could still be so happy after a DNF, but somehow it made him feel a bit better as well. So now it’s just a frown on his face and not one of his trademark scowls. It doesn’t stop Dan asking questions though.  

“Dude what’s with the frown? I thought you’d be happy after that win and what sounded like the fuck of your life.”

“What?!” he squeaks.

“Mate those walls are very thin and you were not exactly being quiet. Who was the lucky dude, huh?”

And no, no he really wasn’t talking about this with Daniel. It was bad enough he’d heard him and Christian, he was not going into details. God, he needs something stronger to drink.

“I need a drink,” he just says in response to Daniel’s question, already flagging down a bartender to order some shots and a glass of whiskey. He figures he better get stuff going, he’s here to celebrate a win after all, isn’t he.  

“Come on dude, share with the class.”

“It’s none of your business okay, just lemme drink in peace.” He should’ve known Dan would be far too excitable even with his own car failing on him during the race, the emoji filled text should’ve warned him.

Daniel just holds his hands up in surrender, turning back to his own drink and going over to where Gianpiero and some of the engineers are talking. He should probably go and say hello to them, but right now finding the bottom of his glass seems more interesting. God why did Christian have such an impact on him. Why did he let himself get roped into this again after he’d already been turned down last year.

He didn’t get roped into it though did he, he had wanted this just as much as Christian. So hearing Christian say that he felt like he was forcing Max, it had hit a nerve. He could make his own decisions, thank you very much. So what if Christian was more than twice his age, they wouldn’t be the first blokes with a fucked up age gap. If he wanted to risk his career by fucking his team principal it was his own decision and not Christian forcing him. God, it wasn’t like he was getting anything out of it either, no matter what people would say he wasn’t trying to fuck his way up the ladder.

He’s just taken another swig of his drink, face twisting at the burn as it goes down his throat,  when Daniel appears next to him again.

“By the way have you seen Christian after the race today?”

And he nearly chokes on his drink at Daniel’s question. Does he know? Is this Dan’s way of getting an answer out of him about who had been fucking him? He coughs and tries to school his face back into a neutral expression as he tries to think of an answer when Daniel speaks up again.

“It’s just that I wanted to talk to him about the car issues and everything, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.”  

Oh good, Daniel didn’t know then. He swallows roughly, his throat still a bit sore from his drink going down the wrong way, and shakes his head.

“No, I only saw him for the team pictures.”

“Oh well, we’ll see him back at the factory, let’s celebrate! Have you had enough alcohol to turn that frown upside down yet?” Dan asks with some exaggerated hand movements and facial expressions. Max shakes his head, but let’s the Aussie drag him towards the little open space that the team has claimed as a dance floor.

He tries to resist as Daniel attempts to get him to dance with him, but the bright smile on the other man’s face and the alcohol starting to take its effect make him give in quite easily. Daniel’s hands squeeze at his waist as they start moving along to the music that’s playing, a smile starting to tug at Max’s lips.

“That’s more like it!” Daniel grins at him as he sees the smile appear on his face. And really he doesn’t need Christian if he can have friends like Daniel. Friends that cheer him up even though he won’t tell them what getting him down. Friends he can be silly with and dance close to without fearing the reaction from others. Not like they would if he were with Christian right now.

Fuck Christian.

---

He thinks that's all the nagging he'll get from Daniel, both of them happy to drink the night away in a Mexican bar, but then it’s the start of the race weekend in Brazil and Daniel won't stop frowning at him from across the table in the meeting room.

He’s been picking at his fingernails and barely taking part in the meeting. He hasn’t bothered to pick his pen back up after he’d broken the pen-clip with all his fidgeting, but he’s sure someone will ruin a forest by printing all the numbers out for them anyway.

He feels someone kick his leg underneath the desk and looks up to see Dan still frowning at him, looking all confused. He makes some weird gesture, his eyes going wide as he tries to get a reaction from Max.

“What?” he mouths.

“What’s up?” Daniel mouths back, or well he thinks that’s what he’s trying to say.

He just glares at Daniel and goes back to picking at his fingernails, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the empty notepad in front of him as Christian takes over from Greg. Luckily Christian doesn’t try to get him to engage, the other man avoiding his gaze as much as him.

Daniel is on him as soon as the meeting his over, jogging up to him to keep up with his own fast pace.

“Max, really what’s up?”

“Nothing, just leave me alone.”

"I let you drink away whatever was bothering you after Mexico, but now I'm really getting worried. And if you keep frowning like that it's gonna stick,” Daniel tries to joke. It doesn’t work though, neither do his next words. “Also why are you giving Christian the silent treatment?"

The alcohol had done its job in Mexico, letting him forget what had happened earlier for just a little while, but it had resulted in the hangover from hell. Images of the afternoon before flashing behind his eyelids as he had screwed them back shut after getting met with bright sun rays, curtains not having been drawn shut the night before.

He shakes the thoughts from his mind and looks up at Daniel, Daniel who is looking at him with such a worried expression, protective older brother mode out in full force now. And he can’t resist that look. He sighs and drags him into his driver’s room and then tells him, tells him without actually telling him anything.

“Let’s just say the fuck of my life, as you called it, was just that until it wasn’t.”

“Mate what happened?”

“Got turned down didn’t I,” Max shrugs, playing it down a lot. Sure he got rejected plain and simple, but somehow it felt worse than other times. He felt stupid for letting himself get pulled in by the other man again after already getting rejected once.

“Ugh, that sucks. But hey, plenty of fish in the sea. Twice as much for you even,” Daniel chuckles, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Yeah, can’t say it’s helping much right now.”  

“But wait, why are you giving Christian the silent treatment then?”

And Max doesn’t know where to look then, hadn’t really thought of a way to talk himself out of that part of Daniel’s question. He can feel his cheeks go hot, nervous sweat breaking out on his back and when he looks back up at Daniel he sees it click into place for him. Dan’s mouth falls open slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait so, so you and Christian?”

He gives Daniel a tiny nod before looking back down at the floor again, twisting his fingers together as he waits for what Dan will say next.

“Wow, okay I did not expect that. Shit Max. How long has this been going on?

“It’s only happened twice,” he shrugs.

“When was the other time?”

“God, do you really need to know?”

“I just want to know how this all started. He isn’t forcing you right?”

“No of course not!” Why did people keep thinking that, first Christian and now Daniel as well? They do know he can make up his own mind right?

“Okay, okay good. But really Max when did this start?”

“Barcelona.”

“What’s so special about Barcelona?”

“I won,” Max says with a shrug.

“You DNF’ed in Barca,” Dan says, thinking back to earlier this season, when Max’s car kept breaking down on him like it did on Daniel now.

“Not last year.”

“Shit Max, you were what 18 then?” Max shrugs again, it’s not like they did anything illegal back then, nor 2 weeks ago. They were two consenting adults, no matter what other people might think. What Christian might think.

“You won in Mexico,” Daniel says then, more of the puzzle pieces falling into place. “So is this like a thing you do to celebrate now?”

Max can’t help but shrug for a third time, it’s not like he sets out to win just because he knows Christian will fuck him then. He doesn’t need extra motivation to want to win. Having a nice bonus like that doesn’t hurt though does it. Well not that it’s happening anymore now, with Christian’s firm rejection.

“What about Malaysia then? You won there.”

“Too sick.”

“Okay, right. Really though, why?”

“He makes me feel good okay. Gives me compliments when no one else does. And, and I guess he’s not that bad to look at either.”

“There’s so many guys and girls closer to your own age that would be willing though, why him.”

“It’s not like I don’t fuck anyone else anymore. And it happened only twice and anyway it’s over now, so why are we making such a big deal out of it?”

“Because it’s our team principal you’re fucking Max!”

“Shh, God Daniel shout it for the whole world to know why don’t you.”

“See Max, this is exactly why you shouldn’t be doing this. If you’re so afraid of people finding out that you can’t even tell me, your best friend.”

“I would’ve told you, but it’s over now and you know now so please can this conversation be over?”

“Okay, alright,” Daniel sighs, “but promise me you won’t do anything again, this could seriously screw with your career Max.”

“I won’t, he told me it’s over so it’s over. Don’t go acting weird around him though or he’ll know you know.”

“Alright. Let’s focus on racing now yeah. Two more races to go.”

“Yeah”

Two more races and then he won’t have to see Christian for at least three months. Three months to get over the older man and focus on a new season.

[bearsace]

petal snowfall.

Summary: “You know,” she whispers into the moonlight one evening in their shared room, “I bet if you saw all the beauty I bring into the world, you’d quit trying to cover it all in snow.” / The god of winter falls for the goddess of spring.

Author’s Note: An AU with lots of world-building, so not really a skimming read . . . not to be confused with a Hades and Persephone retelling fic, though it may seem like it. Inspired by Mitsuhide’s story in the Late Night Seduction gacha. :) I’ll do my best to get it uploaded to ao3 asap! Special thanks to a special bud, @kujotaiqa, for the awesome insp. for this story. :)

Pairings: Akechi Mitsuhide/MC

Genre: Romance, friendship, AU, slight angst

Rating: K+

Word Count: 4,000+

Read Time: 15+ minutes

Before the spring came, there was a lonely god.

The god lived in a teahouse, twice as wide as he was tall, with a small, marble table in the center that had places set for two. He occupied one, and at the start of each day, would pour two steaming cups of tea and set out two hot plates of food. At the end of each day he washed one set of plates and threw out the cold meal on the other.

The teahouse was built for him to leave. The days passed and with them came the unending cold he was meant to bring. In these days, there was nothing but Winter.

Winter was not his real name. (They say he was born “Mitsuhide,” but there was hardly a soul around to call him any name at all.) One could find him in his teahouse only in the morning and in the evening— and in the day, he disappeared to sprinkle snow onto fields and dust frost onto crops.

There was nothing but him, and people starved for it.

“Mitsuhide,” said his Creator, observing mortals as they died of hunger. “Why must you bring so much famine?”

“I know nothing else, my lord,” replied the god. “And so I do all that I can do. If it is too much, then send me a solution.”

His Creator, if good for anything, is good for keeping his word. He decrees that Mitsuhide is to split his time with a being called Spring.

His Creator, if bad for anything, is bad for being punctual. It is another six months before this “Spring” shows up in Mitsuhide’s life.

She comes with the snowflakes-that-aren’t-really-snowflakes. (She gives them a name later: cherry blossoms.)

He can see her silhouette through the rice paper walls, and his brows lift in a moment of surprise. Unsure for a moment, he sets his sake upon the table, waiting for her to move. He has had his fair share of women, but none in this sacred, secret place. He slides the rice paper door open.

A flying branch nails him in the forehead.

“Dirty creep!”

She was naked, apparently, and that’s one hell of a way to make an entrance. Despite his seething rage at her perfect aim right for his face, he averts his eyes, wordlessly dropping the outermost layer of his clothing onto the ground where a snow-colored hand snatches it up and wraps it around a tiny body.

They’re seated later and she grouchily nibbles on the meal he’s set out for her, grumbling about how he could have had some sense of decency to figure out that she was bound to be naked after blowing into this world on a petal. He doesn’t know what their Creator expects of her.

The way he brings snow, she’s supposed to bring something into this world as well . . . he doesn’t know what it is, but so far, she’s brought a major source of entertainment.

“How do I know what I’m supposed to be here for?”

“Just do what you feel like doing,” he advises honestly, “and you’ll know. I came into this world and as I wandered it, ice followed. As you wander it, something else will.”

“What will?”

“I don’t know. A swarm of wasps, perhaps?”

He dodges the chunk of beef she catapults off her chopstick. Maybe this setup won’t be so bad, after all.

Their Creator insists that now that there are two of them, they take turns.

For six months, the spring reigns, and for another six, Mitsuhide does. She finds her calling in pink-petal rivers and the smell of waking grass and dewdrops. He continues on as usual, killing everything she births once the time comes, and shrouds the world in bony white.

He never gets to see the life she breathes into his wasteland, because their Creator insists that whoever’s turn it is to mould the earth stays outside of their teahouse, and whoever’s it isn’t remains inside their lonely tearoom.

They disguise themselves as beggars and royals and workers and thieves when they drift along— she rewards the kindhearted with flourishing gardens and fertile livestock, and he punishes the cruel with fires extinguished by melting icicles and dirt too cold to plant on.

He makes her tea in the springtime. She presses rice balls into his plate when winter comes. No matter the season, they talk deep into the night when one of them comes home . . . and Mitsuhide no longer washes one set of dishes, but two.

The tearoom has a window through which he experiences her world, because really, isn’t that what it is? His world, and hers?

He experiences his winter through the sound and smell and feeling, but her spring he can only watch in the form of the tree that stands proud outside. For six months each year, she explores the world and comes home in the darkest hours of the evening, and for the other six, he does the same. They are only observers to the other’s season, and Mitsuhide always pushes down the curiosity he feels to experience hers in full.

But for now, his days consist of making tea for her to warm herself with when she comes home, and to wait by the window for her graceful form up the stone path so that he can entertain himself with her again.

No matter the season, when they are finished talking and drinking and he’s had his fill of tormenting her (her reactions are always priceless), he cleans their dishes, and she goes straight to the room they share in the back of the teahouse and falls asleep in her bed. By the time he is finished dusting and polishing every teacup and retreats to his own bed adjacent to hers, she’s always asleep, face soft and illuminated by the moonlight.

And if she wakes up in the morning screaming his name in rage because her sheets are somehow frozen solid to her futon, that’s just as pretty of a picture.

Mitsuhide believes that at this point, she was born to be teased. If she wasn’t, why would she look so lovely fuming at him from across the room, angry blush staining her cheeks and delicate hands curled into fists?

He found out long ago that nothing, nothing works her up more than unexpected spring snow.

Sometimes when it’s the beginning of spring and she spends almost every hour of six months outside making flowers bloom, he summons a stray winter wind to wherever he pleases. Blossoms frost over and babbling creeks freeze in their tracks and she comes home, fuming, as he sips at his tea and watches her world through his window.

“Mitsuhide, you ass!”

“A strong choice of words, don’t you think?”

“Cut that out! I’m serious, I can’t get any work done because you keep bringing winter to the most chance places and by the time I get there, it’s too cold to bring spring.”

“That sounds like a 'you’ problem . . . have you considered arriving at your assigned locations sooner so you have a chance to thaw them?”

And he already knows her answer, because they have this conversation at least once every few weeks.

He knows that when he pours her a cup of tea and pats the spot across from him, she’ll sit down with a glare and a huff, because it’s not like she’ll be able to do much else anyway until the ice melts.

And he certainly knows that, as she takes her anger out on the onigiri she makes for the two of them for dinner, it’ll always turn out all right.

(“You know,” she whispers into the moonlight one evening in their shared room, and he starts when he realizes she’s actually awake for once. “I bet if you saw all the beauty I bring into the world, you’d quit trying to cover it all in snow.”)

“Mitsuhide. Come outside and see what I’ve created.”

One hundred years pass.

“The springtime that I brought this year is warm and bright. Come and see.”

Two hundred more, and despite the loneliness of a winter day, he lives for the winter nights where he can come home and see her radiant face.

“It’s my turn now . . . won’t you come outside at least once, even though it’s not your season?”

Three hundred more, and he’s sure that the world she paints green is as beautiful as herself. (Not that he would ever say that to that ever-persistent face of hers.)

The life of a goddess is one fit for her as humans begin to realize that the reason their soil becomes dark and rich every six months is because of her. She finds herself written in mythology books as the Queen of Mortality, a fearsome yet kind lifebringer who strikes down the God of Winter to bring prosperity into the fields once more.

Yet when she snarks at him every night from across the teatable and greedily stuffs seafood hotpots into that pretty little mouth, he thinks that she might not be quite so poetic as they think.

(He’s more than okay with that.)

But she is beautiful one night— that is, moreso than usual.

He notices it in one of his favorite times of the year: the unearthly, ethereal moment where winter fades into spring. They get to spend more time together on the rare nights that are cool enough for snow to stay on the ground, but warm enough for her to begin melting it.

A six-hundred year friendship (or, as she calls it, a tormenter/sufferer-ship) has led to a five-hundred year long attempt of her trying to get him to come outside during her season.

“I mean it,” she says whenever he refuses her. “Not to blow my own horn or anything, but the world I create in the springtime really is something. You’d probably stop being such a slinky evil jerk if you took just one look at it. Just one.”

There’s something tonight in the lights across her face, the way her cheekbones catch the stars in the small space of the tearoom, that makes his curiosity begin to cave. Their Creator was adamant— is adamant— that he doesn’t leave their teahouse in the spring, and that she doesn’t in the winter. But the night is perfect, and he wants to know what her world feels like, and when she senses his consideration and smiles hopefully at him— well, he never stood a chance in the first place, did he?

He walks out the way she comes in, but for the first time, they walk together outside, arm-in-arm as she leads the way down the stone path. It’s a path he’s walked many times on his way to bring winter to the world, but this is his first time walking it with thin clothes on his back instead of bundled in thousands of layers.

The soft hands of his friend pull at his strong ones and drag him around the world like she is a child and he is her puppy. Her eyes glow with the triumph and excitement and happiness of finally convincing Mitsuhide to experience her spring.

The night is warm. So is she. She shines beneath the starlight, even more beautifully than she shined in the tearoom, her lips smiling and full like the petals that swirl around the warm spring breeze. He wonders if they’re just as soft.

He’s been waiting six, nearly seven-hundred years to experience her world— yet now he’s wondering if that all-encompassing desire was not for her world, but for her and her alone. And despite the beauty of a world in bloom, Mitsuhide can’t take his eyes from her the entire night as he finally begins to see.

With the speed of two gods at their disposal, they are around the world and back again within the hour, and she beams at him.

“I told you that it was beautiful.”

She bids him good night with a peck on the cheek and leaves him in the tearoom while she snuggles into her futon in the bedroom.

Mitsuhide’s face remains stoic as he stares at the curtain she disappears behind. He stares long enough for the candlelight to flicker and burn out, and far after that until he follows her and takes a seat on the edge of his own futon.

Perhaps this was why her Creator didn’t want them outside together in her beautiful spring. Perhaps he knew that Mitsuhide would fall for her this relentlessly. Perhaps Mitsuhide shouldn’t be surprised at all— though the only surprise to him is how long it took to realize it.

This, the God of Winter thinks as he stares calmly at her sleeping form, will be a problem.

He goes outside with her more often then, much to her delight. He uses the winter winds to freeze the stems of the ripest plums so they fall into her waiting hands, and he bastes the fish they have for dinner and sweetens their tea with the juice. And he watches her, steals kisses on her cheek whenever he can catch her off-guard to do it— on his bolder days, he pulls her near and catches the hollow of her throat in his teeth.

She’s always embarrassed and becomes even redder than when he teases her with snow in spring.

“What’s gotten into you recently?” She rasps after he releases her with a smirk that hides a deeper longing. (Although her spoken “recently” is more like a hundred years or so since his revelation. Time moves differently for gods like them.)

Love, the back of his mind whispers, is what’s gotten into me.

He squashes that thought everytime it arrives.

She was born for the light and he for the shadow; he has no business thinking this way. But he aches— aches terribly with the knowledge that no matter how many times he sneaks into the warm night with her to rain those soft, lifebringing hands with kisses, he will never be able to touch that light. Not the way he wants to.

It doesn’t stop him from kneeling by her bedside as she falls asleep, pushing cold winter winds away from the window to warm her in the only way he knows how.

Their Creator calls him one day. Mitsuhide knows by the look in their Creator’s eyes that he knows.

Their Creator is benevolent; not one to punish excessively, but not one to let this go, either. There is a disappointed glaze in his all-knowing eyes that unsettles Mitsuhide, and their Creator simply sighs.

“You fell in love with her, too?”

So Mitsuhide isn’t the first, it seems; other gods have as well, though Mitsuhide’s been the only one fortunate enough to spend this much time with her. Their Creator recounts the many gods she’s encountered in her time in this world— the god of war, apparently, was rather fond of her; the god of romance had been trying to woo her for the past three-hundred years; and the god of reason, who still apparently didn’t even realize it himself. They were only a few who’d fallen for her, and Mitsuhide was sure there were hundreds more under her spell.

Their Creator understands— he’d half been expecting Mitsuhide to disobey him, anyway. That doesn’t mean he goes unpunished.

And Mitsuhide won’t ever tell their Creator that she’s the one who wanted him to go outside in the first place. He couldn’t do that to her.

His punishment, though, becomes her punishment anyway simply by association— their Creator separates their rooms and Mitsuhide can no longer watch her as he lies in a separate bed facing her, pretending their futons were conjoined and he had the right to hold her.

The window in their tearoom is bricked shut one day, much to her chagrin as she doesn’t understand why their Creator cut her off so thoroughly (though Mitsuhide doesn’t have the heart to tell her their Creator is cutting him off, not vice versa).

But last of all, and worst of all, springtime gets more hours.

It is the last punishment that hurts the most. She no longer has time to come sit and have tea with him as she barely even has time to sleep. Without the window, he can no longer see her walking up the path, much less experience her world. And without their shared room, he can’t even listen to her steady breathing.

Mitsuhide is effectively deprived of her.

He misses that snark of hers, that raised brow as she quips at him, that lovely scowl as she lightly hits his arm. He barely catches fleeting glimpses of her when she crosses the floor to her own room, tired and dead off her feet and barely able to mutter a hello before she’s gone again. And in the winter, they swap, and he takes on so much time in the cold that he doesn’t get to see her either, since she’s long gone to bed, not having the stamina to wait hours for his arrival the way he did with hers. Anything just to see her, no matter how fleeting—

He misses her.

He misses her so much that one day, without his realization, it starts snowing.

And the next day, she’s there.

He’s so stunned at seeing her, in the flesh, skin like marble and eyes deep and swirling like the tea she’s drinking. He looks at the space across from her, and finds that there’s another cup set out.

“Isn’t it springtime?” He asks, taking the seat and daring to touch her cheekbone with the same gentleness as the petal she blew in on.

“Yes,” she responds and gestures to where the window used to be. “But it’s snowing.”

“Is it?”

“It is. And both you and I know that I can’t get anything done when it’s snowing. It’s too cold to make anything bloom.”

She offers him an onigiri, the pristine shape of it clearly showing that she wasn’t angry enough to mash it into bits as she made it. In fact, she doesn’t seem angry at all as she sits calmly sipping tea the way they did long, long ago.

She’s rarely angry with him now when it snows in the spring. It gives them only two— if they’re lucky, three— precious hours in the early hours of the morning to stall her departure and sit in each other’s presence and snark and tease the way they did before. Sometimes, she begs for him not to make it snow in a certain region, and if he can help it, he doesn’t; but sometimes, it’s just been too long and he makes it snow there anyway.

It’s tricky and manipulative— just enough snow for them to quench their desire for each other’s companionship, but not so much that their Creator grows suspicious. They don’t dare to sneak out in the middle of the night the same way they used to. But for Mitsuhide, every moment he can spend with her now is enough.

She grows more beautiful by the day, and the longer they spend apart from each other, the more his entire body aches for her.

It is early one morning in their small teahouse. It is spring, and the world smells sweetly of roses and fresh grass.

“The spring misses you,” she says, gazing at the bricks where their window used to be. “I don’t know what happened to us.”

He knows what she means: why they were forced out of each other’s company so harshly, torn from each other so cleanly. She, of course, doesn’t realize that this separation, which at this point has been going on for three-hundred years, is all his fault. And he can’t bear her thinking it’s hers.

“I fell in love,” he murmurs against his better judgment— his eyes, though, recognize this statement as a fact and not a sentiment. Maybe luck will be on his side; maybe she’ll think he fell for a mortal and not for her.

She tilts her head, her eyes perceptive as always.

"I did too.”

Their first kiss is in the garden where she blew into the world on a petal. It’s a cold winter’s night six months after their silent confessions— the sky is dark and starry and almost purple with the clarity, the moonlight reflecting on the small pools of melting snow. Her lips are cold, and he warms them with his own the same way he warms her body with his own. He doesn’t bother stirring the winds away from them, content in feeling the biting chill contrast with the back of her neck where he holds her close.

It lasts barely a few seconds— their Creator could see. But they pull away and he can see her reflection pooling on the tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” he states simply.

And maybe he’s riskier than she is, or maybe she simply has a better sense of self-preservation, because they both understand that those three words alone are enough to call their Creator’s attention like blood in the water. So she simply kisses him again— barely brushing her lips against his— and steps away, biting her lip as if to keep his taste in her mouth.

“I know.”

Unsurprisingly, their routine hardly changes besides the occasional brush of lips. Her wit is still there, though often followed up with her small hand taking his larger one as she presses it to her mouth, closing her eyes tight and longing as much as he seems to. They’d never realized how easy it was to miss someone right beside you.

The years roll on, and they continue as usual— though that’s to be expected, as they have been as constant in each other’s lives as the snow in the springtime.

They barely manage to escape their Creator’s all-seeing eye with hidden trysts and whispered words; it’s many centuries before they find a moment where they are far enough gone on their Creator’s mind that they can sneak back into the room they once shared, falling asleep in each other’s arms and waking before the dawn.

Mitsuhide fears the consequences if they are caught— they can’t afford to lose each other.

And so it goes that their romance moves through the days more slowly than they watch warlords rise and empires crumble. But they watch history together— and as castles turn to skyscrapers and dirt roads turn to paved ones, she always finds time to leave one blooming red rose alive for him in the winter, and he always finds time to freeze the stems of plums for her to pick more easily. 

Their Creator begins to keep less of a watch on them, and they manage to meet discreetly more often, just happening to be at the same restaurant or library at the same time as one another. 

(They find a book one day that tells the tale of the Lifebringer and her lover, the God of Winter. They smirk at each other and their fingers brush, and the bookstore owner blinks at the odd exchange before giving them the book for free— the owner finds later that the boy across the street who tormented her and her family happened to slip on some ice and break his ankle.)

No matter where or when it is, they always make time for each other— and no matter how much time it is, Mitsuhide always finds himself craving more. She does too; he can tell from the way she sweetly kisses his cheek before departing for the springtime.

Perhaps one day their Creator will forgive them for their enchantment, but for now, they accept the consequence and simply take each other’s company however they can get it; they are content with the hope that one day they will be allowed to love each other. They know this is a faraway hope— but sometimes, as Mitsuhide wanders the earth, he finds a cherry blossom petal sitting patiently in the snow— and he dares to dream.

[nominalbutler]

Chapter 3 of “The Windup” now posted

Hey all I finally got all of the modern bar AU uploaded to AO3. You can find the link to the whole thing here including chapter 3. I’ve gone ahead and posted the third chapter under the cut here too if you just want to read that. Like I promised, there’s a tiny bit of smut for yall. Hopefully there will be more in the future because I know that’s what everyone is here for. Anyways, thanks for reading! 

That night, Sebastian dreamed about fucking Ciel.

He didn't consciously intend to, that wasn't what he was thinking about as he drifted off to sleep, but he found himself trapped, forced to watch and enjoy the dream as it unfolded before him in his unconscious theatre.

They weren't at his house, or any other place he recognized. It was a big, open loft with high ceilings and floor-length windows on one wall that Sebastian couldn't see out of. All white carpets and furniture with dark rosewood accents. A mattress, twice the size of Sebastian's California king at home, situated right under the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathed in soft light. He and Ciel rolled endlessly across the surface of the bed, Sebastian pinning Ciel's small frame, then Ciel mounted atop him, straddling him, and then back again; rubbing, touching, feeling, tasting, biting, kissing.

Suddenly he had Ciel in his lap, naked, arms pinned behind his back, facing away from him, looking out the window. Ciel was moaning, crying as Sebastian pulled him down onto his cock. He trembled with every inch, whining and squirming, but when he looked back over his shoulder at him with an incredibly sultry look, Sebastian could tell, he could feel how much Ciel liked it.

Ciel took him in beautifully; it felt so right, so real. He had him every which way, spreading his legs wider than he assumed physically possible for the small boy. Most of the torrid encounter was lost in his journey back to consciousness in the morning, but when he awoke, Sebastian could vividly remember the way he fucked him from behind -- primitive, desperate, rough with hands on hips to pull him closer and deeper and deliver a satisfying smack to Ciel's perfectly shaped ass when he felt it was warranted. Which was often. He pictured the red tinge on his fair skin and how it looked painted in thin stripes of white.

Sebastian woke up incredibly hard, body tingling all over with an insatiable arousal. He didn't feel like this often, and he had to do something about it. He reached back, digging through his mind to find fragments of the dream he could rewind and savor: the perceived weight of Ciel on top of him, the imagined softness of his skin and his lips, the way he thought his voice would sound as he fucked him senseless into the giant mattress. Sebastian licked his palm, spat into it, pretended it wasn't just his own hand he was fucking as he jerked himself off to the images in his head. He didn't care how he sweat and even drooled a little onto his pillow, didn't care when he came on himself and his blankets with a rough gravely moan and a curse. The inconvenience of doing laundry was nothing compared to the pleasurable height Sebastian had just achieved, the long-withheld orgasm making him shiver long after he'd finished, all thanks to the filthy and utterly inappropriate thoughts about his coworker he had conjured up. With a clean hand, he checked the time on his phone and begrudgingly rolled out of bed, peeling off the remainder of his clothes as he headed into the bathroom for a shower.

When Sebastian was first waking up, warm and languid and aroused, a hand creeping south towards the waistband of his sweats, Ciel had been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling of his old room in his parent's house and feigning sleep when his mother knocked and brought him breakfast in bed. French toast -- his favorite. Except he couldn't muster up enough of an appetite to eat more than two bites. He forced down the glass of milk and before heading downstairs he slipped into his bathroom and flushed the remainder of the syrupy meal down the toilet. He kicked the clothes on the floor out of the way with a frown as he left his room. They were the ones he had been wearing the night of his accident, stained with spatters of blood and crusty with dried vomit -- he must have thrown up on himself on the way to the hospital.

The accident hadn't been serious. Stalled at a red light, Ciel had been unable to maneuver out of the way as someone turning through the intersection hit a patch of ice and spun out, ramming into his car as it slid across the road. The late-model Ford Thunderbird he had been driving was like a tank around him. The heavy body of the car did surprisingly well absorbing the force of the SUV as it careened into him, sending his head crashing first against the steering wheel and then into the side window as a handful of shattered glass rained down around him.

He probably could have been taken to the urgent care clinic and been just fine. But his aunt, once she got a call from Rachel, had insisted he be brought to the hospital where she worked to be checked out. Trauma medicine was not her area of expertise, but Doctor Angelina Dalles slithered away from her floor of cardiac arrests and transplants to check in on her favorite little nephew Ciel in the ER.

She examined him from head to toe and pointed out a nasty concussion, a sprained elbow, several damaged ribs, and a myocardial contusion. As his aunt closed up his cuts with sticky liquid sutures, Ciel was hooked up to an EKG to monitor his heart. The results must have been normal, because a few hours later his aunt said he was free to go, so long as he stayed with his parents the first two nights. It was fine to sleep with a concussion, Ciel just needed someone to wake him up every few hours and check his cognition, making sure he hadn't started bleeding into his brain or anything else serious.

It was markedly better than a hospital, but Ciel hated staying with his parents. It was the house he grew up in, but ever since he moved out, it felt completely foreign to him, as if he were merely a visitor. It was too big, too clean and too poised, like Rachel and Vincent were waiting for a Home & Garden photographer to come through and take pictures. Plus, they wouldn't let Ciel smoke there. If he wanted a cigarette, he had to sneak it, like he did in high school. He hadn't had a cigarette since before his accident, and he was craving the taste of nicotine like no other. He had to get out.

"Hey dad," Ciel rinsed off his plate in the sink and slid it into the dishwasher before taking a seat beside his father at the breakfast nook, "can you give me a ride home today?" It would be at least a week before Ciel was driving again, his car currently hospitalized at the auto repair shop his father frequented.

Vincent nodded, swallowing down the rest of his coffee. "Let me call An, make sure you're okay to be on your own."

Ciel flipped absentmindedly through the newspaper on the table as his father made the unecessary call. He returned a few minutes later, his face impassive, as usual. Aunt An had given the all-clear, not surprised at all that her nephew was already wanting to be free. He delivered her warnings to take it easy: no intense physical activity, no smoking, make sure to take deep breaths and cough every now and again to prevent a chest infection.

"Do you want to go now?" Vincent asked as he cleaned up his place at the table. Ciel nodded. "Okay. Get your stuff, say goodbye to your mother."

Rachel was reluctant to let Ciel go back so soon. She kissed his forehead and his cheek, hugging him four different times, careful not to disrupt his injured ribs or arm. "You call me if you need anything, okay? Anything. I can be there in seven minutes."

"Okay, mom," Ciel said, "I will." He probably wouldn't. He climbed into the passenger seat of his dad's Mercedes, his dirty clothes bundled in a plastic bag at his feet, and buckled in, rubbing his chest where the seatbelt had dug into his skin when his car was hit.

His father drove him across town, a ride that took much more than seven minutes to complete. The two remained silent the whole time, but as they neared Ciel's little apartment complex, Vincent cleared his throat and spoke.

"Will you be needing a ride to work today or tomorrow?"

"Um...." In all honesty, Ciel had completely forgotten about his serving job at The Windup. He struggled to pull his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans so he could check the most recent schedule -- he was supposed to help close tonight. Upon closer inspection, Ciel noticed that Sebastian and Finny had the night off. He was pondering whether or not to call one of them and ask if they would mind taking his shift that night when his dad spoke again.

"I'd really rather not call Grell to cover for you again... That man is a little too much for me, personally."

"Dad, you gotta get better at this. You know Grell uses female pronouns," Ciel said. Regardless, he could understand what his father was saying -- Grell was a little too high-energy for his liking as well. "Whatever, I'll figure something out," he continued. "I can always take a bus there, but I'm I'll let you know if I need a ride home, okay?"

"Okay," Vincent said, pulling into a spot near Ciel's unit. "Just call me before ten and let me know. And just like your mom said, I'm only a few minutes away if you need anything. Don't hesitate to call me, okay, Ciel?"

"Okay, dad. Thanks."

"See you later."

Ciel awkwardly climbed out of his dad's car and waved goodbye, elated to be back at home. The thought of staying another night in the hospital, or at his parents' house, was nerve-wracking, and he could not have been more relieved to hear that he would be fine to stay by himself. He much preferred his tiny one-bedroom apartment, with its scuffed linoleum floor in the kitchen, the squeaky faucets, the doors that stuck in the jam during the summer when the humidity made the wood expand. It was cozy, lived-in. He had already started missing his little porch, the best part of the dingy apartment. Wood old and mottled with lichens, it was his favorite spot to have a cigarette and watch the people and the cars drive by on the street below.

He unlocked the door and made his way into the living room, dropping his clothes on the floor as he collapsed on the couch. A sharp pain struck him in the chest and he winced and cursed as he flopped heavily into the cushions. Sighing, he dug his phone out and scrolled through his contacts, looking for Finny's number so he could call him about covering his shift. His coworker didn't answer, and Ciel decided not to leave a voicemail. He sent a text instead, and as he waited for a reply, he made the decision to ignore his aunt and stepped outside for his first cigarette in what felt like a week. With a blanket tucked up under his chin, Ciel settled himself on the singular folding chair in the corner, blowing on his fingers to keep them warm.

As he made his way down to the speckled filter, blowing gray smoke into the equally gray sky, his phone vibrated in his lap. Unfortunately for Ciel, though wonderful for Finny, the strawberry blond man had a date that night -- he couldn't cover for Ciel. With a smile, Ciel typed out a reply, telling Finny it was all okay and wishing him good luck on his date. As an afterthought, he asked him if he had Sebastian's number -- it was his only other option.

Ciel remembered last week when the older bartender had let him borrow his coat to go outside and smoke. It was a nice gesture, but that was the only thing Sebastian had ever done for him aside from hold a door or carry some dishes for him. He wasn't rude by any means, but he certainly wasn't the most effusive or amiable employee. He was always somehow distant, detached from the flow of the bar. Ciel wondered if he would be willing to help him out, especially on such short notice. He really didn't feel like working, but Ciel would power through if he no choice.

Finny sent him Sebastian's information, and Ciel wound up lighting another cigarette as he dialed and held the phone up to his hear. He nervously sucked down smoke as the phone rang and rang and rang, and he was about to give up and resign himself to working the miserable shift when there was a sudden click, and a low smooth voice was speaking through the receiver.

"Hello, this is Sebastian."

Something about the voice over the phone gave Ciel a chill, but he blamed it on the cold breeze as he exhaled his mouth of smoke and replied, "Hey, Sebastian." He swallowed, suddenly very nervous. "It's, uh -- it's Ciel."

[kellykadesperate]

so to ease the pain i’ll be uploading some of my fluffiest stuff on here because we are knee deep in angstville and we need to smile, you can read it on ao3 but i thought if fluff is on everyone’s dash it will be extra fluffy!

1. the notepad: 

Aaron usually wasn’t so brazen, he usually waited until he saw Chrissie drive off and leave the estate but this time he had this need to see Robert that he couldn’t control. Sam had asked for some help taking some things up to Home Farm and Aaron had of course offered to help out, making sure to work quickly as he offloaded things onto the grounds and told Sam he had to leave - better things to be doing.

Aaron knocked on the office back door, poking his head around the door and seeing Robert sitting there, head down into his desk as he wrote in a small notepad and then typed away on his laptop. Robert kept on working as if he hadn’t heard Aaron and it gave Aaron the perfect chance to watch Robert work, watch the concentration on his face and actually admire him.

He rarely got the chance to.

Nearly a minute went by before Aaron dramatically cleared his throat and saw Robert look up at him, confusion at first and then a warm smile that told Aaron he was welcome.

“Well this is a nice surprise…” Robert said, relaxing on his chair a little more and trying to act as if he wasn’t busy.

Aaron walked towards his desk and sat on top of it, pushing aside the papers and kicking his feet out like a child. “Sammy wanted help and I offered.” He said shutting his shoulders, “Thought I’d come and see ya.” He added, leaning over to Robert and kissing him hungrily.

Robert fell into the kiss, not believing how much Aaron still wanted him after months of uncertainty. Robert had to pull away, fear creeping in as he realised that Lawrence had only popped out and would be back any minute.

“Lawrence he - he’s coming back,” Robert panted out, tutting at himself for ruining things and making Aaron let out a disappointed “Oh” in response.

Robert sighed as he saw Aaron turn away from him and look towards the door sadly, “Hey, you keep on kissing me though and maybe time will go slower.” He whispered, a hand pulling at Aaron’s face and tugging him back towards him.

Robert was cut off once again by the sound of his phone ringing, he had been waiting for hours to get this call and the thought of missing it and earning hours of grief from Lawrence made him feel torn. Aaron felt Robert tense around him and pulled away with a sigh, “Answer it, I’ll wait.” Aaron mumbled out, feeling as though waiting was all he seemed to do.

Robert picked up the phone and mouthed a thank you to Aaron, standing up slowly and signalling that he wouldn’t be long with his hands as he walked out of the room, “Hi Brian, thanks for getting back to me.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and looked at the clock, Adam would have something to say he thought as he sat down on Robert’s chair and absorbed the familiar scent of Robert. Aaron couldn’t help but look around his desk and see how messy he had made it within a matter of minutes, Robert was quite the perfectionist and Aaron instantly felt bad as he began stacking papers and ordering them again.

Suddenly one of the notepads fell onto the floor, one of the pages creasing a little in the process and making Aaron curse under his breath for ruining something. Aaron bent down as he picked up the notepad and then his eyes widened in shock as he pressed down on the curved page and saw the content.

Most of it was just swirls, doodles that scattered the page and Aaron couldn’t help but laugh because he had honestly thought Robert’s notepads were filled with nothing but strictly business jargon not adorable doodles of cars and tractors and -

Aaron’s eyes fell onto a name, his own, and then saw it again and again and again.

Aaron. Aaron. Aaron.

It was cluttering the corner of the page and his heart almost gave way. The thought of Robert doodling his name as if he was his teenage crush was something Aaron would never get over, not over.

Aaron dared to turn the page over and saw more doodles, curly shapes and swirls and then his name was there again, fancy writing and all. Aaron pulled a hand over his mouth and delicately stroked over his name, feeling almost connected to Robert that little bit more. Feeling as though Robert thought about him just as much as Aaron did when they weren’t in each other’s company.

Aaron heard footsteps and pushed the notepad down again, smiling as he saw Robert walk back into the room.

“Look how about we drive out somewhere? Just me and you.” Robert offered, pulling on his blazer and tilting his head towards Aaron who just couldn’t help but smile at him. “What?” Robert asked, not understanding why Aaron was looking at him so intensely, so lovingly.

Aaron shook his head hard trying not to smile at Robert so warmly, “Er, nothing.” He said quickly before frowning and getting up, “Don’t ya have to work? I don’t want you falling behind -”

“Yeah but I’d rather be with you so…” Robert said effortlessly, as if there was no contest and making Aaron feel all tingly.

Aaron nodded his head, “I’ll text Adam and tell him there’s been a crisis with Sam or something.” He mumbled, walking away from the desk and getting out his phone as he watched Robert pack up some stuff by his desk, taking the notepad and placing it delicately in his bottom draw.

Aaron couldn’t help but notice how delicate and gentle Robert was with it, making sure it wasn’t bent too much as he fitted it in and pushed some papers on top of it, hiding it from view.

Robert caught Aaron off guard, staring up too quickly and making Aaron blush. 

“Ready?” Robert asked, wondering if Aaron had text Adam yet or not.

Aaron nodded his head along, “Yeah let’s go.”

[lesbianbeiovaz]

Parallel: From Another World 13/34

It feels like it’s been forever! I felt like no one was really reading it over here on tumblr/ao3 so I just stopped uploading... If you were reading/is reading this fic a sign would be amazing, I don’t want to stop if people are enjoying it. :)

Rita Stone lives in our world. The world where a big blue box bigger on the inside is simply impossible. However, this all changes after what is most definitely an impossible event. Then again nothing is impossible with the Doctor. Follow Rita through time and space, learning about herself while struggling to comprehend her new life travelling with the Doctor and his companions.

AO3 | CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 CH12 | CH13

The Doctor paced around the console, Rita sat in the jumpseat cross-legged with her eyes fixed on the Doctor, they had been to many amazing planets, between when she had met Sarah Jane Smith and now what excited her, even more, was that those adventures were never 'episodes' back in 'her world'.

Rita was excited for another adventure like she normally was now. It had been exactly Two months since the four had the encounter with the Krillitane, the Doctor was still confused about what was happening to his brunette companion, this scared him a little. Over the past two months he had grown to enjoy the company of the brunette, he could tell Rose was enjoying having a new close friend her age as well.

They dropped Mickey off home to 'pack' really the Doctor just wanted a few more adventures with Rose and Rita before Rick- Mickey joined them.

"Right then" The Doctor looked at the brunette and then at Rose who was standing next to her. "Where shall we go next?" He raised a brow at them both.

"Maybe we should go get Mickey?" Rose suggested. "We did lie to him and say that we were only going to be waiting in the TARDIS."

"I didn't think you wanted him to come?" The Doctor crossed his arms and leant against the console opposite to the girls.

"We did promise him" she ignored his question.

"Doctor she's right" Rita backed the blonde up. "Poor Mickey thinks he's just a tin dog," she added.

"Oh all right" He sighed moving away from the console.

"Try to get around a few hours after we left." Rita rolled her eyes. "I know what you did to Rose's mum. Poor woman, you deserved that slap." The Doctor shot her a playful glare in her direction.

"I was close" He defended himself turning dials on the console. "Twelve months is close to Twelve hours" he protested.

Rose burst out laughing Rita also then started to laugh as well speaking in between her fits of laughter. "For a Time traveller, you can't tell the big difference between twelve hours and twelve months."

"Can we just go and pick up your boyfriend Rose" the Doctor groaned.

"Oh, now you want to pick him up" She laughed again.

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"I did say for you to try and get the dates correct" Rita patted the Doctors shoulder, them both slowly walking in the TARDIS with Rose and Mickey bickering behind them.

"It was my idea to actually come back for you!" She grumbled.

"Two months!" He shouted. "Two months I waited, I didn't think you were actually coming back"

"I told him to make sure it was only a few hours" Rita pointed out speaking over her shoulder.

"For someone so smart you don't know when to be quiet" the Doctor whispered into her ear.

"I could say the same for you" she whispered back grinning.

"Well you're here now aren't you!" Rose shouted at Mickey then crossed her arms and walked away from the console and into the hall obviously heading for her room.

"Great she hates me now" he dragged himself over then plopped him body down onto the jump seat. Rita whimpered a little seeing her seat she had grown to become attached to be stolen away from her.

"You'll get it back soon" the Doctor promised.

"I better or someone's going to loose a hand, and this time it won't grow back," she said cheekily grinning up at him. "I'm going to go and sleep" she then stated yawning a little. "You two" she pointed to Mickey meaning for him and Rose "Sort it out before I wake up"

"Yes ma'am" He rolled his eyes and gave a salute to her before she headed off.

"She's trouble" the Doctor chuckled shaking his head.

"I know that kind of laugh" Mickey crossed his arms narrowing his eyes at the Doctor. "What are you to her"

"No," he said coldly turning away shutting himself off. "I made that mistake once already, that isn't going to happen again"

"Mistake?" Mickey raised a brow.

He continued to look away from Mickey. "I'm a TimeLord, 900 years old Mickey, she's human and no I don't." He spoke harshly with no emotion just like his eyes currently looked starting into the ground. "I'm going to the library," he began to walk off then pointed at Mickey. "Don't touch anything."

"Yes boss" Mickey nodded.

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"So where are we off to now then?" Rita asked cross-legged on the jump seat watching the Doctor mess around with the console, Mickey and Rose were both still asleep and thankfully now on 'good terms' after Rose explained it was actually the Doctors idea for leaving Mickey.

Rita had to threaten the Doctor to tell Mickey that the blonde was telling the truth since he didn't believe her, it was either telling the truth or the Doctor hand being cut off. He knew she wouldn't really but her face said otherwise.

"Where do you want to go?" He looked up at her and paused what he was doing. "You haven't picked anywhere yet have you?"

She thought for a moment then tilted her head. "I guess not. I honestly don't mind where we go anywhere is exciting with a new adventure" The Doctor grinned at her answer. "But if you're going to ask" she tapped her chin and looked up for emphasis while she thought. "How about around three thousand years into Rose and Mickey's future two and a half galaxies away from Earth." She grinned mischievously.

"That's oddly specific." He frowned while grinning.

"Secrets" she tapped her nose then jumped out of the seat uncrossing her legs. "Why do they sleep for so long" she threw her head back and groaned.

"Welcome to my world" the Doctor chuckled shaking his head. "Your fault for sleeping earlier, though."

"I didn't want to put up with any more arguing when you had to put up with two people you care about arguing over someone you also care about it annoys you a little" the Doctor smiled a little at her comment. "What?" She frowned a little noticing his expression.

"Nothing" he shook his head changing the expression on his face to one that was blank.

"Hello" Rose stretched out yawning a little in a new pair of clothes.

"Finally your up" Rita bounced around the console like a small overly excited puppy.

"Someones itching for an adventure" Mickey scratched his head walking into the room and over to the console.

"Being stuck in here with you both sleeping is boring. I don't know how he does it" she pointed her thumb in the Doctors direction then heard a low groaning from around the four in the TARDIS. "Your not boring" Rita patted the console. "Those two are"

"Well, we didn't sleep earlier. We had to sort it out before you chopped his hand off" Mickey protested.

"Enough arguing" Rita groaned again.

"I agree with Rita, let's go" he pulled down a lever then grabbed onto part of the console as it jerked him and the three humans in a direction. Rita managed to regain her balance, helped Rose with hers then jumped into the jump seat (very ironic name since Rita jumped into it a lot) and held on tight.

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  "It's a spaceship. Brilliant!" Mickey exclaimed following Rose out of the TARDIS after the Doctor and Rita. "I got a spaceship on my first go."

"Let's hope it's not Dalek" Rita joked. Rose and Mickey stared at the brunette in horror. "It's not Dalek" she reassured them shaking her head.

Rose began to walk around exploring the area they were in. "It looks kind of abandoned. Anyone on board?"

"Nah, nothing here." The Doctor backtracked a little "well, nothing dangerous. Well, not that dangerous." Rita shook her head chuckling. "You know what, I'll just have a quick scan, in case there's anything dangerous."

"With you the smallest of things can be dangerous" Rita grinned.

"That's only the bits in between" he winked smirking a little.

"So I'm told" she raised her brows at him. "Best go get that scan done Doctor"

"So, what's the date?" Rose asked. "How far we gone?"

"About three thousand years into your future, give or take." The Doctor walked around a bit explaining to them both knowing Rita already knew all this information. He then found a switch and flicked it triggering the light to turn on.

He walked over to a small window and looked out smiling. "Fifty-first century. Diagmar Cluster, you're a long way from home, Mickey. Two and a half galaxies."

"Mickey Smith, meet the universe." Rose chuckled as they both looked out of  small port hole like window. "See anything you like?"

"It's so realistic!"

"Tell me about it" Rita laughed. "Thought those two were in a dream when I first saw them."

"Dear me," the Doctor walked over to what looked like a table. He began to pick stuff up and move around. "had some cowboys in here. Got a ton of repair work going on."

"Could make a show out of that" Rita chuckled lightly. "Cowboy builders, in space." She waved her hands above hers and the Doctors face as if she could imagine the show's title. "There's a show back home like that, obviously not in space" she scratched the back of her head the Doctor grinning at her like the Cheshire cat. "Not that grin again" he then frowned.

"What's wrong with my grin?" He asked sounding offended.

"Nothing's wrong with it" she couldn't help but smile. "It's when you do it for too long it starts to creep me out"

"I'll do it more often then" he winked then looked over at what look a little bit like a computer but Rita knew very well that it definitely wouldn't have the latest windows update.

"Now that's odd. Look at that." He frowned pointing to the 'not computer'. "All the warp engines are going. Full capacity. There's enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe, but we're not moving. So where's all that power going?" He asked obviously rhetorically and over to Rita since Rose possibly wouldn't know and Mickey definitely would not have a clue.

Rose looked around then frowned in wonder "Where'd all the crew go? "

"Good question." He pointed out nodding then looking at the 'not computer' "No life readings on board."

"Well, we're in deep space." Rose frowned "They didn't just nip out for a quick fag."

"No, I've checked all the smoking pods." He said sounding serious, not understanding her sarcasm. "Can you smell that?" He asked the three.

"Yeah, someone's cooking." Rita shivered knowing it was quite literally. The Doctor noticed this and stepped a little closer to the brunette.

"Sunday roast, definitely." Mickey guessed sniffing the air.

The Doctor used the 'not computer' to open a door behind the four which revealed a beautiful fireplace with a blazing fire.

"Well, there's something you don't see in your average spaceship."

"Says the one who has a ship disguised as a 1950's wooden police box with a swimming pool inside" she raised her eyebrows at him smirking slightly.

"Fair enough" he nodded not arguing due to knowing that she wouldn't back down, plus she was right. "But this is Eighteenth century. French. Nice mantle. Not a hologram. It's not even a reproduction. This actually is an eighteenth-century French fireplace. Double sided. There's another room through there."

Rose looked out of a porthole in the same wall of the fireplace. "There can't be. That's the outer hull of the ship. Look."

The Doctor knelt down beside the fireplace ignoring Rose. Rita copied him. "Hello." He waved smiling warmly.

"Hello." A young girl Rita knew as Reinette crouched down on the other side of the fireplace the flame flickering between the Doctor, Rita and Reinette.

"What's your name?" The Doctor asked looking behind the girl trying to figure out where she was.

"Reinette." She replied.

"Reinette," he said in thought. "That's a lovely name. Can you tell me where you are at the moment, Reinette?" He asked. The girl frowned as if the question was stupid and the answer was obvious.

"In my bedroom."

"And where's your bedroom?" Reinette frowned even more when asked this question. "Where do you live, Reinette?"

"Paris, of course."

"Paris, right!" He opened his mouth in an 'o' shape. Rita looked at him then rolled her eyes.

"Monsieur, Madam, what are you doing in my fireplace?" She now questioned them.

"Oh," he thought if some excuse to use. "It's just a routine fire check. Can you tell me what year it is?"

"Of course I can." She smiled. "Seventeen hundred and twenty-seven."

"Right, lovely. One of my favourites." Rita lightly elbowed him and whispered into his ear "She probably thinks you're mad"

"And two people watching a girl in a fireplace in her bedroom isn't mad?" He raised a brow at her in question.

"Good point" she rolled her eyes not wanting to further question.

"As I was saying. August is rubbish, though. Stay indoors. Okay, that's all for now. Thanks for your help. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fire. Night, night." He waved.

"Goodnight Monsieur. Goodnight Madam." Reinette said as the two stood up. Mickey frowned in confusion.

"You said this was the fifty-first century."

"I also said this ship was generating enough power to punch a hole in the universe." The Doctor pointed out. "I think we just found the hole. Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink."

"What's that?" Mickey slightly tilted his head.

"No idea." He shrugged then told the truth. "Just made it up. Didn't want to say magic door."

"I think 'magic door' sounds better" Rita tilted her head to the left smirking a little.

"And on the other side of the magic door is France in 1727?" Rose asked for confirmation.

"Well, she was speaking French. Right period French, too." The Doctor told them.

"She was speaking English, I heard her." Mickey protested.

"That's the TARDIS," Rose explain to him. "Translates for you."

"Even French?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah"

"Why wouldn't it?" Rita asked.

"Gotcha!" Said the Doctor pulling a lever causing the fireplace to start to spin.

"Oh no, you don't!" Rita shouted jumping on the Doctors back. The two spun around on the fireplace while Rose shouted both their names.

When the fireplace stops Rita jumps off his back. "God you're heavy" he mumbled quietly earning a playful slap on his arm by the brunette. "That's for trying to get away and for saying I was heavy"

"You didn't have to come" he whispered walking over to the window and moving the curtain to see outside that it was around midnight and snowing lightly outside. The pair spun around to see the young girl Reinette sitting up in her bed with s very paced breathing and a shocked and scared expression.

"It's okay." The Doctor placed out an arm towards her. "Don't scream. It's just us. It's the fireplace people." He spoke slowly and calmly not to scare the young girl. "Look. We were talking just a moment ago. We were in your fireplace." The Doctor reaches into his brown coat pocket slowly not taking his eyes of the young girl who was now a lot calmer than before. He took out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at a candle then lightened it.

"Monsieur, that was weeks ago." She paused. "That was months." "Really?" He looked at Rita who nodded at him backing the girl up. "Oh. Must be a loose connection. Need to get a man in."

"You are a man" Rita rolled her eyes

"Who are you two?" She looked between the Doctor and Rita then asked them another question. "And what are you doing here?"

The Doctor noticed Rita staring at the broken clock on the mantle of the fireplace.

"Okay, that's scary." He said reaching out to Rita's hand beside him and placing his hand in hers.

"You're scared of a broken clock?" Reinette tilted her head ever so slightly due to being confused.

"Just a bit scared, yeah. Just a little tiny bit." He walked over to the clock pulling Rita with him. "Because, you see, if this clock's broken, and it's the only clock in the room, then what's that?" He put his hand not holding the brunettes in the air signalling for Rita and Reinette to listen closely and of course they could hear a ticking that sounded like a normal clock, however, Rita knew fully well that this wasn't a normal clock like you would have on the wall in your kitchen.

"Because you see, that's not a clock. Rita stays right there, whatever happens, do not move" he let go of her hand and slowly walked away from her towards Reinette who was sitting on her bed. "You can tell by the resonance. Too big. Six feet, I'd say. The size of a man."

"What is it?" Reinette asked her voice shaking a little.

"Reinette don't be scared the Doctor won't let anything hurt you" Rita tried to reassure the girl.

"Now, let's think." He turned to Rita standing still not moving. "If you were a thing that ticked and you were hiding in someone's bedroom, the first thing you do, break the clock. No one notices the sound of one clock ticking, but two? You might start to wonder if you're really alone."

Rita nodded in agreement understanding what he was saying. He then turned to Reinette. "Stay on the bed. Right in the middle. Don't put your hands or feet over the edge."

The Doctor slowly crouched down and rested his head hovering just above the cold floor. He waved the sonic screwdriver under the bed to scan and light it up. The screwdriver was forcefully knocked out of his hand.

Slowly the Doctor started to get up. "Rita" he spoke in a whisper. "Stay there." He told her again even though she had no plans of ignoring his request the first time.

After poking his head up he noticed the clockwork droid behind the girl. "Reinette" he whispered. "Don't look round." He then turned his gaze towards the droid again directing his words to it.

"You, stay exactly where you are." The Doctor moved forward towards Reinette and placed his hands on her head looking deeply into her eyes trying to figure out what the droid wanted with her. "Hold still, let me look."

The Doctor pulled away a moment later looking at the droid. "You've been scanning her brain. What, you've crossed two galaxies and thousands of years just to scan a child's brain? What could there be in a little girl's mind worth blowing a hole in the universe?" He asked narrowing his eyes at the droid. Reinette then turned round facing the droid.

"I don't understand." She spoke honestly scared and confused. "It wants me?" She looked at the Doctor then turned back to the droid. "You want me?"

The droid then spoke for the first time snapping its head towards Reinette making the noise of a machine moving as it did so. "Not yet. You are incomplete."

"Incomplete?" The Doctor repeated. "What's that mean, incomplete?" He waited for the droid to answer. "You can answer her, you can answer me. What do you mean, incomplete?"

"Doctor" Rita warned him. The droid walked round Reinettes bed standing before the TimeLord a blade shooting out of its hand. Rita pulled the Doctor away just before the blade touched him.

"I told you to stay there," he said through gritted teeth not meaning to be as angry "I'm not letting you become a shish kebab" she gritted her teeth back. The Doctor then looked at her in a way making her feel slightly guilty. "Sorry" she muttered.

"Madam, Monsieur, be careful." Rita could sense the terror in Reinette's voice.

"Just a nightmare, Reinette, don't worry about it. Everyone has nightmares." The droid went to attack the Doctor neck again. Once again Rita pulled him away. "Thanks" he looked at Rita then at the droid. "Even monsters from under the bed have nightmares, don't you, monster?"

Rita noticed that they were both pressed up against the fireplace, the Doctor standing between her and the droid. She also noticed that the blade was now stuck in the beautiful mantle.

"What do monsters have nightmares about?" Reinette asked.

"Me!" The Doctor flicked the lever again and then leant into Rita who gave a squeak at the sudden contact and movement of the fireplace as it spun round back to the ship.

"Doctor, Rita!" Rose shouted to them both seeing the Droid stuck in the fireplace. The Doctor jumped off the fireplace freeing Rita who moved back. He then grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed it over the droid which then froze in place.

"Excellent. Ice gun."

"Fire extinguisher." The Doctor threw it over to Rose who then caught it.

"You okay?" He walked over to Rita placing a hand on her arm.

"Yeah I'm fine, you?"

"I'm always okay" he grinned at her.

"Where did that thing come from?" Rose interrupted gesturing over to the frozen Droid.

"Here."

"So why is it dressed like that?" Mickey asked.

"Field trip to France. Some kind of basic camouflage protocol. Nice needlework, shame about the face." The Doctor complimented it then removed the face to reveal the clockwork beneath. His eyes grew larger and shone at the sight. "Oh, you are beautiful! No, really, you are. You're gorgeous!" Rita rolled her eyes but did have to admit that the clockwork did look amazing considering it would have most likely killed her after the Doctor.

"Look at that. Space age clockwork, I love it." He pointed showing Rita and the others then showed the brunette his arm. "I've got chills!" she giggled lightly at his comment. The Doctor then turned to the droid "Listen, seriously, I mean this from the heart, and, by the way, count those," he pointed to his chest. "It would be a crime, it would be an act of vandalism to disassemble you. But that won't stop me." The droid then beamed away obviously not liking the idea of being taken a part which was quite ironic considering what it had done to the ships crew.

"Short range teleport. Can't have got far. Could still be on board."

"What is it?" Rose asked.

"Rita?" the Doctor looked over to her.

"Hmm?"

"You coming?" he asked. Rita remembered what happened now and honestly didn't want to witness  Madame de Pompadour shove her tongue down the Doctors throat. Not that she had an issue with it at all he could have whoever's tongue he wanted down his throat but Rita did not want to witness that in real life let alone think about it.

"Erm." She scratched the side of her head. "I'll stay here with Rose and Mickey."

"Is someone scared" he mocked her grinning.

"What?! No!" She shouted and narrowed her eyes in protest.

"Well come on then" He stood next to the fireplace waiting.

"No Doctor I'm going to stay- here!" she shouted the last word in a high-pitched shriek due to the Doctor pulling her onto the fireplace then flicking the switch to spin the fireplace.

"I hate you sometimes" Rita muttered stepping away from the fireplace once it stopped. "Why did you make me come with you?" She groaned.

"You can help me figure out why they want Reinette, foreknowledge and all."

"Fine" she groaned. The Doctor called out the girls name and played a string on the harp. After the sound of the harp stopped there was a slight cough in the room like someone was clearing their throat.

"Oh. Hello." The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, I was just looking for Reinette. This is still her room, isn't it?" he gestured to the room they were currently in "We've been away, not sure how long." Rita rolled her eyes finding it unbelievable how the Doctor could not piece two and two together.

There was a faint voice down the corridor calling for the now older Reinette not looking away from the Doctor called back and the Doctor now had a shocked look on his face. "Go to the carriage, Mother. I will join you there." She turned back to the Doctor and Rita who slowly was backing up close to the fireplace finding the way Reinette was looking at the Doctor a little uncomfortable. She never really was one to be around people when this sort of thing was going around, she never knew what to do. However, the Doctor being well the Doctor didn't notice her gaze at all.

"It is customary, I think, to have imaginary friends only during one's childhood. You both are to be congratulated on your persistence."

"Reinette!" He grinned. "Well. Goodness, how you've grown."

"And you do not appear to have aged a single day. That is tremendously impolite of you." She stepped a little closer to the Doctor.

"Right, yes, sorry. Listen, lovely to catch up, but better be off, eh?" He noticed her slowly moving forward closer to him. "Don't want your mother finding you up here with strange people, do we?"

"Strange? How could you be a stranger to me? I've known you both since I was seven years old."

"Yeah, I suppose you have. We came the quick route."

She reached a hand up and touched his face, her eyes burning into his. Rita just stayed by the fireplace rocking on the heels of her shoes back and forth feeling very ignored. "You seem to be flesh and blood, at any rate, but this is absurd. Reason tells me you cannot be real."

"Oh, you never want to listen to reason" he chuckled.

"Mademoiselle! Your mother grows impatient." A male voice called from the hall Rita looked at the ground feeling uncomfortable with what was about to happen.

She turned her head towards the door then shouted. " A moment! So many questions. So little time." Reinette then pulled the Doctor in for a kiss that was quite long, the pair stumbled back, almost hitting Rita who only just managed to get out the way, however, something was wrong the Doctor wasn't doing anything he was just frozen. He looked like he had frozen and Rita could swear that for a moment she saw him try to push her off.

Reinette pulled away seeing that the Doctor was not enjoying it and then ran off out of the room.

"Mademoiselle Poisson!" The same voice from earlier called out just as Reinette ran out, the voice then was joined with its body the man's eyes growing wide seeing Rita just standing there and the Doctor mouth open and wide-eyed.

"Poisson? Reinette Poisson?" He scoffed. "No! No, no, no, no, no way. Reinette Poisson? Later Madame Etoiles? Later still mistress of Louis the Fifteenth, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan, fantastic gardener!" He spoke way too fast for the man to keep up.

"Who the hell are you?!" He demanded looking at the Doctor

"I'm the Doctor, this is Rita by the way" he pointed at her who then waved. "And I almost snogged Madame de Pompadour. Ha, ha!" he flicked the switch and the two spun back around to the spaceship.

"Almost" Rita raised a brow.

The Doctor shrugged not replying. "I wasn't expecting it," he spoke cold and distant while he walked on not looking at the brunette who was slightly confused.

'Somethings don't play out how they look.' She repeatedly told herself over and over in her mind thinking back to how she thought she saw the Doctor try and push Reinette away from him. The Doctor continued to walk not talking and Rita followed a little bothered by the silence since she knew this Doctors regeneration was most definitely not the quiet type.