#and damn look at that tardis lighting!

[lonelyzarquon]

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | Part 4

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): It's the (badly written) smut chapter (is it obvious that I don't know how kissing works?) / Weee Woo mature smut hour is here!!! / semi-exhibitionistic (office fucking while the door is locked?) / The oral fixation is back / dunno if I missed smth. A/n: The long-awaited final part of the series. And I swear to GOD if the tags don't work I'm going to screeaaAAAMMM [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

When Mattheo opens his eyes, a ray of sunshine peaks through the curtains and it falls over your sleeping face. In your sleep, you have tucked yourself closer to his body.

Mattheo can't help himself but smile. He rests his head on his fist while he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Oh, how peaceful you look — how at ease with him beside you.

At his touch, you scrunch your face and turn away, nuzzling into his chest. You grumble something and he laughs.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Groaning, you reach for the covers and pull them up to hide yourself from the light. "What time is it?"

Looking over his shoulder towards the small clock on the bedside table. "Half past eight."

Another groan comes from you and you push the covers just down so your face is peaking out with a pout. "Way too damn early..."

At that moment your door gets kicked open and the twins storm in. "Get up! Mom made breakfast and she has given you ten minutes to get dressed.

As Danny drags you out of your bed and into your bathroom, Victor gives Mattheo a stern glare. "You listen to me, Riddle. If you hurt but one hair on our sister's head you're a dead man! Understood?!"

Mattheo nods dazed, not jet have been really woken up before the invasion.

With one last curt nod, Victor turns around and marches out of your room. Not before saying, "If I were you I would get dressed. Mom doesn't like tardiness."

The way one-half of your brothers send you sly looks while the other half glares daggers at Mattheo as the two of you join your family at the breakfast table makes you want to be swallowed up whole by the ground.

"Slept well?", muses Felix as he peels a tangerine and gives his wife the segments.

Pursing your lips, you wait until both your parents aren't looking before flipping him off. He returns the gesture, only to get whacked by his wife — who in turn winks at you.

As Mattheo tilts his head towards you and as he parts his lips to say something, Victor calls out, "Hey! No canoodling at the breakfast table! Felix and Jean were bad enough, we don't need to experience you two being disgusting too."

"Hey!", both you and Felix call out, offended. Felix because he and his wife were called disgusting, and you because of the accusation of canoodling while you were literally doing nothing.

As you and your siblings bicker — because let's be fair, Felix needs to pull Herbert and Danny into the argument — Mattheo looks around the table with a fond smile.

It's nice to see how your family is. Even while you bicker and pester each other, he can see you hold so much love for each and every one of your brothers. And they do for you. And now he can see certain traits that you do that come from your parents or that all the Hufflepuff siblings do.

It's nice. It makes him jealous deep down.

When you notice Mattheo's faraway look on his face, you reach under the table to hold his hand. You give him a squeeze and in return, you get a smile. A genuine one luckily.

The two stay like that until it's finally time to go. After all, you have so much homework to do.

Your mom hugs you with tears in her eyes, having always found it difficult to let her babies go. She also gave Mattheo a tight hug and made him promise to come back another time. Maybe for the summer holiday, he can join you and your family at your vacation home — the idea was protested with grumbles from most of your brothers.

Your father pinches your cheeks before clapping Mattheo on his back and shaking his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Mattheo. Take good care if my daughter, will you?"

"I wouldn't dare otherwise", he smiles while reaching for your hand.

Waving goodbye, the two of you walk back to the portkey. And with a final deep breath, you touch the small cup and get sucked in a portal.

With a slight stumble, the floor changes from grass to the creaking floorboards of Sprout's office. You manage to catch yourself by the desk.

Having let go of your hand, Mattheo takes out his wand while he walks towards the door. He peaks his head out and looks around the corridor. Once he closes the door, he casts a locking and silencing charm upon it.

"What are you doing?", you ask laughing as he slowly turns around.

Mattheo says nothing but strides towards you. Taking your face in his hands, your breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles over your cheeks. Your eyes flicker over his face as you recognise the look in his eyes. It's the same as last night.

"Matt", you whisper, pressing your forehead against his.

He silences a groan by biting his bottom lip, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Tell me now if you don't want this. Tell me and I will stop. But once... I can't stop- won't stop. You fill my every thought, awake or at night."

You trail one hand up his body and place it on his shoulder, moulding your body against his as he presses you against the desk, his own hands simultaneously travelling down your body. He grabs the backs of your thighs and hoists you up the desk.

A surprised yelp escapes your lips and Mattheo seizes the opportunity to crash his lips against yours. His eyes close shut as he laces his fingers into your hair, holding your head in place to deepen the kiss.

You moan as you grind against him. Mattheo's all-consuming, all over. You feel and smell nothing else than him. One of his hands is in your hair while the other travels down your side towards your knee. How he grabs the flesh of your thigh to pull you even closer ─ if that is even possible.

Wrapping your arms around him, you throw your head back as his lips travel from the corner of your mouth towards your neck. He peppers open-mouthed kisses, running his tongue over your skin and sucking softly. You bite your bottom lips so as not to sound too desperate.

While his lips assault your neck, Mattheo's hand has travelled from your knee up your thigh to underneath your skirl and his middle finger toys with the elastic of your underwear.

Your body moves like it has a mind of its own and your legs open further to give him room to slip his hand beneath the fabric.

As he explores and rubs slow circles on your clit, he groans loudly. "Gods", he breathes out, his forehead resting against your shoulder and his eyes trained on the movements of his fingers hidden under the fabric of your panties.

"Matt... please", you beg, squirming at the teasing touch.

As if your plea snaps him out of a daze, he rips his hand away from your core ─ earning a desperate whine from you ─ and he pushes your underwear down your legs, stuffing it in his back pocket.

He pulls your hips to the edge of the table while he drops to his knees. Looking up at you through his lashes, asking your permission to continue.

"Mattheo I swear if you don't soon- OH!" You moan loudly as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your hands shoot to his curls and you pull on them as he continues his ministrations, pulling moan after moan from you.

His lips wrap around your clit and you swear that you see stars. A finger prods at your entrance, slipping in easily with how wet you are. Soon, a second finger gets added and you can't help yourself. "I could eat you for lunch", he groans.

"Please Mattheo... please!"

With one last kiss, he pulls away and looks up at you, his mouth and chin glistening. "What is it, baby?" He leans his head against your thigh while his thumb rubs lazy circles around your clit.

You groan and whine, writhing under his heavy gaze and stimulation. "I... please- do something. I feel so..."

He pouts, speeding up his fingers. "Do something? Okay." He rips his fingers away and you feel like you could die.

"Not that!", you hiss, glaring at him.

Mattheo chuckles and rises from his kneeled position. "You're oh so cute when frustrated, love." He grabs your cheeks with one hand and pushes his soaked fingers into your mouth.

The taste of your own arousal dances on your tongue and you moan, closing your eyes and sucking on his digits. Mattheo can't help but watch you with fascination as you hold his gaze.

You grab his wrist and pull his fingers away with one last kiss. "Fuck me, Mattheo Riddle. Fuck me so good that I forget that our relationship used to be fake." You use his own words, which earns you a growl.

Mattheo grabs your hips and turns you around so that your ass is up in the air and your chest laying on the desk. He pushes the hem of your skirt up so you're fully exposed. A groan escapes him while Mattheo grabs two hands full of your asscheeks and pulls them to the side.

One hand leaves your skin and you hear the metallic sound of a belt buckle before a zipper. You look over your shoulder and see that he has pushed his pants just down enough to free himself. He strokes his length a couple of times before lining up with your entrance.

With one fluid trust, he's fully inside you. You grip the edge of the desk and a loud moan rolls from your lips. You're so full. So filled to the brim.

Mattheo swears he's in heaven. Your pussy is pure ecstasy. "So... tight", he says with a clenched jaw, trying his best not to immediately spill inside of you.

Rolling your hips against his, you look over your shoulder with your bottom lip between your teeth. Mattheo has his eyes closed and his head thrown back. The grip on your hip is bordering on bruising but it feels so good.

You can't help the moans coming out of your mouth when he bottoms out before pulling out of you completely and plunging back in. It shocks your entire body and Sprout's desk he has you folded over.

A hand travels down and you roll lazy circles over your clit for extra stimulation, his own hand engulfs yours and moves in sync with you.

It makes your body buzz and you feel the end coming closer and closer. Squirming underneath him, stars flood your vision and soon you feel yourself teetering over the edge.

Mattheo, feeling your pussy convulse around him, pulls you up and presses you against his chest. He captures your lips in a fiery kiss and helps you ride out your orgasm.

"Shit", he curses under his breath, the squelching sound of your cum sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know how much longer I can hold it."

"Cum in me", you moan, arching your back.

You don't have to say that a second time because Mattheo swears he's in heaven and cums almost immediately with a loud grunt, his head thrown back. You moan with him and he holds the both of you still.

The two of you stay like that until he has gone soft and you are starting to cramp. As he pulls out, you feel a dollop of his cum run down your leg. Mattheo drops to his knees and licks it up.

"No", you squirm, feeling so overstimulated that even the thought of his tongue touching you makes your pussy twitch.

He helps you up on the desk and cleans you up with a towel he conjured. "How are you feeling?"

"Good", you smile, "Tired. Spend."

Mattheo returns your smile as he pulls you closer for a kiss. Once he has enough, he presses his forehead against yours. "Come to my game tomorrow."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And do what? Watch my house beat yours?", you tease.

"You could sit there all prettily in my jersey while watching me beat up your ex."

A laugh escapes you. "That way to original deal wasn't it? You distract my parents while I distract Malcolm. All so Slytherin can win the house cup."

Mattheo smirks. "You know it, baby." He takes your face and traces your lips with his thumb.

"And after that?" You lean into his touch.

"After that, I am going to fuck you silly in the locker room showers and make you moan my name so loud everybody knows you're mine."

And he did just that. With his knuckles still bloody from punching Malcolm in the face — nearly earning a suspension when he almost didn't stop — he holds your hands in a tight grip as he ploughs roughly into your cunt as the water from the shower makes his sweater cling to your skin.

And you bet the school did know your two definitely were an item after that.

Tag list (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12 @alnitakstarsky03 @mel-vaz @slytherinboysappreciation @sailtomarina @bubybubsters @jasmine2105 @abaker74 @lovelyygirl8 @vickykazuya @eltrss @llpovi @m1kasawps @sol3chu @ledtassoo @itsarajr @glittervame @glittervame @mjlock @universallyblizzardlove @hoeforvinniehackerrr @iamkaku @elltheawkward @hey-there9-its-me @mattheosangel13

[denaliwrites]

Don't Turn Your Back

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: If you never see a Weeping Angel again as long as you live, it'll be too soon.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

When the Doctor said "Let's find out why this Weeping Angel is stalking and torturing you," you weren't exactly sure how he intended to do that.

You were not expecting him to propose establishing a psychic link between you and the Angel in question.

"Absolutely not," you'd said, adamantly. "Find another way -- I won't have that thing inside my head."

"It's the only way," he'd said, and damn if he wasn't a bloody good liar.

"I hate you," you'd said.

To which he'd smiled and replied, "You know you're dying to know." And damn if you weren't convinced he couldn't read your mind, sometimes.

So now, here you sat, with some odd machine he'd fashioned out of scraps sitting atop your head. "I don't like this," you told him nervously.

"Oh, but you look great," he told you with a smile. Despite his blasé attitude, you remained unconvinced. He was a little too casual, yet for some reason he wouldn't meet your eye.

"What's wrong Doctor?" you finally asked as he adjusted the machine you wore. "Why won't you tell me the other options?"

"Because there aren't any," he said, yet again.

"Doctor, I know when you're lying."

"Because the only other option is to let you die," he snapped, voice broken and movements suddenly jerky as he was overcome with emotion. "And I will not let you die."

"Oh."

You regretted asking. And yet, you persisted.

"So this is safe?"

"No," he replied with a sigh. "But you have a better chance if we do this than if we do nothing. If we do nothing... the Angel will get bored, and..."

"It may not send me back... like the other Angels do."

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Starting on the count of three."

He counted down, turned the machine on... and then everything went black.

You could tell something was off even before you opened your eyes, but opening them certainly confirmed your suspicions. You found yourself back in your flat, but the world around you was strangely dark and covered in thick mist -- even though you were inside.

Not a fan of that, you decided.

Walking through your flat didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary, besides the darkness and the fog. There were no ghosts, no angels, no Doctor, no... anything.

You were alone.

How were you supposed to tell him? How would he know to pull you out? Those thoughts, among others, ran through your head as you made your way outside to look around the garden. Finding more nothing, you moved on to the street.

You saw the TARDIS on the other side of the road, its light dim and ominous in the oppressive dark of whatever Hell this was.

You wanted to run towards it, and into the safety of the TARDIS, but movement to your left caught your attention.

Oh.

The Angel.

You sucked in a steadying breath and walked towards it.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as you neared. You hadn't expected your voice to echo. It freaked you out a little. This whole place did. The situation, too.

The Angel didn't answer you.

"Oh. Do I need to turn away?" you asked, genuinely. You blinked and when your eyes opened you could've sworn the Angel's lips were slightly more upturned. "Okay. I'm here to talk. I'm here in good faith. Please don't kill me... I... I'm trusting you."

It was a terrible decision, really, but what choice did you have?

So you turned -- and closed your eyes for good measure.

"Why are you doing this?" you repeated.

A voice not unlike two rocks grinding against each other whispered in your ear, "Revenge." And as quiet as that single word was, it still echoed around you.

"But I've never seen a Weeping Angel before," you whimpered. "How could I have done anything to you worth revenging over?"

"Not you," the voice whispered.

Oh. Well, the only other person that left was the Doctor.

"What did he do?" you asked, even though you didn't actually want to know.

"He killed my sisters."

"I... I'm very sorry," you started, swallowing thickly. "That must've been... terrible. I can't imagine."

"He took something from me," the voice continued, "something I loved. So now I will take from him something he loves."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your throat. "The Doctor doesn't love me."

"Foolish human," the voice said, and there was just enough threat in those words for you to instinctively open your eyes and turn around.

The Weeping Angel was gone.

Nerves alight and mind about a hundred times more exhausted than it was when you first entered this place, you sighed and wearily turned to the TARDIS. Walking inside revealed that it was just as dark, misty, and creepy as everywhere else.

But you could see yourself sitting in one of the seats by the console, unconscious. The Doctor hovered beside you, his hands clutching yours desperately. He kept whispering to himself, but in this place they echoed right over to you, clear as day --

"Come on, come on, come on."

Over and over, just those two words.

You watched sadly for a moment before you made your way to... well, yourself. You weren't really sure how to wake yourself up, but were willing to try anything and everything that came to mind.

Which was how you found yourself going through a series of ridiculous attempts that included yanking on wires, chanting in Latin, screaming in your face, slapping your face, and dancing the hula.

After everything you tried failed, you dropped to the floor with a whimper and closed your eyes.

You awoke with a jolt, gasping desperately as if you'd been holding your breath for several minutes.

The first thing you saw was the Doctor, still hovering over you. He looked incredibly relieved to see you back, unharmed. You let him take the machine off, and though you felt incredibly heavy suddenly you let him pull you into a hug, too.

"What happened?" he asked as he pulled away. "What did it say?"

"It..." God, you were so tired. Why were you so tired? "It says it wants to kill me because you killed its sisters...?"

You could see him pondering that, eyes searching the air as he tried to recall a time he may've killed some Weeping Angels. All the while, his hands still held yours. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he remembered at all, he did a strangely good job of hiding it, though you supposed it helped that your sudden swaying drew his attention away. "Hey, hey," he cooed, pulling you up and into his chest. "Let's get you to bed, eh?"

You shook your head, pushing yourself gently away from him. "I need... to think. Erm. I'm gonna take a shower. And then I'll go to bed..." You nodded tiredly but resolutely and made your way to your bathroom.

The shower you took was long, just shy of blisteringly hot, and not nearly as productive as you'd hoped it would be. Your thoughts kept running in circles, or else running away from you altogether, and chasing them only served to wind your anxiety up like a rubber band about to snap.

And snap it did.

You hadn't even realized you were screaming until the Doctor was pulling you out of the water and gently shushing you. You only sort of quieted, your screams simmering down to sobs as you clung to him. He held you firmly, protectively, whispering such gentle words of comfort and encouragement in your ear even as your cries filled his.

"Oh, it's all right now," he soothed, petting your wet hair. "I won't let it hurt you, eh? I promised I'd keep you safe, didn't I?" He sighed when the only response he got was a sob, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Carefully, and much to your confusion, the Doctor managed to move to a stand with you cradled in his arms. You didn't protest as he carried you to your room (again), nor as he set you down and swaddled you up under the covers.

As you started to come down, you realized you were still naked -- that the Doctor had pulled you out of the shower and held you and carried you all while you were naked, but honestly dealing with that would have to wait until you weren't exhausted.

Once he was, seemingly, satisfied with the cocoon he'd surrounded you in, he leaned forward and pecked your forehead, then moved to leave.

"Doctor, please don't," you begged quietly, still sniffly.

He paused for only a moment before he turned back to face you, before he came to sit on the edge of your bed, before he scooted in next to you and laid beside you.

He didn't even need to speak for you to feel comforted. Even just turning to face him and nuzzling up to his shoulder had you feeling immensely better.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head and silently stared up at the ceiling as you yawned and sank into him. It took a long while for sleep to come for you, but when it finally did, it came hard and fast.

You were haunted by nightmares of moving statues.

[musings-of-miss-j]

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part six: in which you wrangle out information about the doctor's segments, discover a library and obtain the favour of its obscenely wealthy resident

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: is the burn even burning. slow burn, gn neutral reader who is occasionally referred to as 'miss', smart-ass reader with just a sprinkle of social anxiety and a healthy dose of skepticism

warnings: blood and organs. are we even surprised at this point

series masterlist

as always, let me know if you find any pronoun slips!! oh, and friendly reminder that reblogs help circulate my work much better than likes <3

word count: 4628 words

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“They are not clones,” he replied dismissively. “Have you nothing to say to explain yourself?”

“In that case, how precisely do you define them?” You prodded, all anxiety at your lateness forgotten in the face of this engrossing new mystery. “I’m assuming you created them. How, if not by cloning?”

The Doctor crossed his arms and stared you down. You gazed back up at him, resolute and unmoving in your curiosity. You looked different today, he noted; you apparently still hadn’t found your cloak judging from the fact you were wearing Childe’s, damn him,and the shadows under your eyes were more pronounced than usual. He frowned behind his mask. Had you not gotten enough sleep? Perhaps he shouldn’t have kept you in the lab so late; after all, sleep deprivation would make you more prone to committing foolish blunders in the vicinity of his precious experiments. He couldn’t have that.

“My segments are none of your concern,” he said with an air of finality.

“Doctor, as your apprentice, am I not entitled to having any questions outside my realm of expertise answered by you?”

Oh, you devious thing.

With a dismissive wave of his gloved hand, the Doctor swept past you towards the reflux apparatus he set up the night before.

“Provide an acceptable excuse for your tardiness, and perhaps then I’ll be more accommodating.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, unsurprised by his persistent give-and-take mentality, and made your way to your array of petri dishes. Under different conditions, the fungi growing within them developed a multitude of characteristics; under direct sunlight, tendrils of green plantlife snaked through the mycelium, when submerged in water the fungi formed tiny yet distinctive fins, and many other such phenomena.

“I had an encounter with Lady Eight and Lord Eleven after the lab session.”

“One that lasted well past midnight?” He asked, stealing glances at you as he set up the next step of his current experiment.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a disdainful roll of your eyes. “Hence my lack of punctuality. I had to entertain guests.”

Outrage flared in Dottore’s chest. How dare they intrude upon you at such an inopportune time? Of course, he conveniently dismissed the fact that he was the one who kept you so late in the first place; as far as he was concerned, he was entitled to your company. You were his apprentice, after all.

“Understandable enough,” he conceded.

You shot him a look. “Well? Your… segments? What are they, precisely?”

He muttered something unintelligible before responding.  “Iterations of myself at various ages.”

“I counted seven of them. Are there any more? What purpose does their existence serve? How did you create them?”

“You’re terribly inquisitive today, dear student,” he drawled, holding a test tube to the light and swirling the contents. You frowned. Did he intend to leave your questions unanswered? You really were awfully curious. “Count yourself lucky that I’m in fine spirits today.”

Visibly brightening, you rested your chin in your hands and your elbows on the workbench as you waited for him to go on. You never did seem to notice that he was always in a good mood whenever it came to you and your ceaseless inquiries.

“You counted correctly, there are indeed only seven of them,” he began, preparing a solution for the day’s work with the various test tubes in front of him. “I created them using techniques similar to those utilised in ancient ruin guards, but imbedded with my consciousness and the ideals I held at different phases of my life. This allows me to approach any problem from multiple perspectives, and prevents me from becoming restricted to familiar cognitive patterns.”

You hummed thoughtfully, brow furrowed as you mulled over his answer.

“But how did you ensure that the segment’s outlooks are exactly the same as the ones you used to have? Does your current personality not create some sort of bias and alter the way in which you view your… past self?”

The Doctor nodded his approval; you were asking the right questions.

“I am not heralded as a genius for nothing,” came his amused reply.

“That is a wholly unsatisfactory answer,” you grumbled, but let it slide. “Why haven’t I seen them before now?”

He elected to ignore that.

 

You managed to wriggle out of the Doctor’s snide remarks that you were getting lazy and make your way to the dining hall on time, for once. A restock was absolutely necessary; you’d run out of food in your dorm, and considering the sizeable journey you had to make to reach the dining hall it was a much easier endeavour to just hoard quick meals like an animal going into hibernation. Besides, you didn’t want to leave Arlie waiting, either. While you still didn’t know what kind of power she held, nor to what extent it would affect you, you were far from excited to have her demonstrate that power if you somehow managed to displease her. Even the Doctor, Childe and Signora appeared more manageable; at the very least, you knew exactly how they could make your life miserable if they wished, while Arlie was shrouded in mystery save for her dizzying, razor-sharp grace. Her special brand of courtesy felt like it would leave you scarred and bleeding out if you didn’t watch your step; a knife’s edge you had to dance around and an irresistible enigma for someone as relentlessly inquisitive as you.

After loading up a plate and sliding one of the chefs a tidy stack of mora to have packaged meals sent to your dorm, you slid into the seat across from Arlie at the table by the window you were somehow consistently lucky enough to snag (luck had nothing to do with it, really. She made damn sure no one else would sit there). Clearly she’d arrived some time ago, judging from the empty pot of coffee in front of her, and she offered you a nod of acknowledgment as you sat down. After your first meeting, she’d abandoned the purple robes that had were meant to serve the purpose of disguising her as an electro cicin mage, and now whenever you saw her she donned sleek, finely-tailored suits. You couldn’t say they didn’t look marvellous on her.

 

“I was expecting to see you at dinner, not this early.”

“The doctor was an in amicable mood,” you replied, buttering your roll and slathering on a layer of too-sweet jam. Mona had perfected both the art of astrology and jams; you missed her and the flawlessly balanced confections she’d make during the rare instances she had the mora to spare.

“Why are you staring at that bread roll as though it made you an orphan before your very eyes?” Arlie’s silky voice took on a bemused edge, snapping you out of your reverie. You were more than a little surprised by her question; you liked to think of yourself as somewhat difficult to read. Perhaps you were, but nothing escaped her searching gaze.

“I was just ruminating over my research.” It no longer unsettled you how smoothly the lie flowed from your tongue.

Annoyance spiked in her chest. Inconceivable, that you would entertain any thoughts that didn’t involve her. You smiled slightly. “And your ever-cryptic identity.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. The previous frustration quickly dissipated. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Tastefully curious,” you corrected with a laugh of your own.

“It’s hardly as if you’re the most comprehensible of people, either.”

You grinned. “I’m inclined to disagree, Arlie. Why, I’m an open book!”

“I’m having trouble translating your pages, then.”

“Linguistics isn’t your area of expertise, I take it?” You teased, lifting your fork to your lips. Casual conversation with Arlie felt less like balancing on a tightrope over a clearing swarming with tigers  and more like finding that one of the tigers was actually quite civil and pleasant company, if you overlooked the teeth and claws and minded your manners.

“I’ll gladly learn if it means understanding you better.” Her silver-tongued reply and suave smile had you blushing and taking a moment to collect yourself.

“And you have the unprecedented confidence to call me cheeky,” you quipped.

Savouring the lapse in your composure, she replied bracingly. “Being timid doesn’t get you anywhere. Listen. Request forms will be issued later today. Make sure to submit yours before midnight.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. To restock any necessities we might have exhausted, yes?”

“Precisely.”

Fantastic. You needed a new turtleneck sweater after the eventful dissection with the Doctor left if bloodstained beyond repair.

“I assume the Regrator is the one responsible for overseeing such matters?”

She frowned behind her mask. Just what did he have to do with anything? Why would you bring him into the conversation? Or anyone, for that matter? “Yes, that’s right.”

You shot her a puzzled glance at the sudden frigidity in her voice. Maybe she held a grudge against him, you reasoned; it was entirely possible that she was one of his higher-ranking subordinates. Or maybe she was a Harbinger who held contempt for one of her colleagues.

“The palace truly is a self-sustaining community,” you remarked. “Do soldiers and recruits ever leave for anything besides missions?”

“No. Snezhnaya is far from a forgiving place, and there’s safety to be had between these walls.”

So the Fatui were effectively isolated from the rest of Snezhnayan society, then. You vaguely remembered from an introductory politics lecture that such physical separation between civilians and the ruling body could easily cause unrest and eventually conflict, tearing the nation apart. Oh, well. Hopefully your diploma would be complete long before that happened.

 

With food in your stomach and the usual vague wonderings about Arlie in your head, you returned to the lab.

“Oh, good,” Dottore remarked without looking up from organ modification he was performing. He insisted that it was enhancement, optimisation, and you firmly maintained that it was nothing but needless meddling. “You’ve finally returned. Come here and help me locate the damned tricuspid valve.”

“Surely you’re not so old that your eyesight is failing, doctor?” You asked, removing your leather gloves in favour of the horrible yellow plasticky pair. With a contemplative hum, you leaned over the countertop to survey the bleeding heart (ha, ha) more closely. Remarkable, really, how precise the Doctor’s incisions were; even you had to swallow your pride and admit that he truly was the best of the best, the epitome of perfection so highly sought after by any academic. Noting the blood dripping onto the floor, you winced. Perfection tampered by a thorough indifference to anything that wasn’t his research would be a more accurate description. You batted away his hands and took the scalpel the two of you were always fighting over, making a clean cut through the right atrium and gently peeling away the torn muscle until you could see the flimsy tissue you were looking for.

“There’s your valve,” you said, handing him back the scalpel with no small measure of reluctance. The rules dictated that he’d get to use it for the rest of the day since he got it first, after all.

He ran his bloodied thumb along the edge of his mask before going back to poking delicately at the tissue. You grimaced, watching the white leather of his mask stain crimson where he touched it.

“Flawless,” he murmured.

“Yes, quite,” you agreed, surveying the heart over his shoulder. It had clearly been removed by someone exceptionally skilled, every slice through the tender flesh perfectly made.

Ironically, Dottore was referring to your work. And you, in general.

 

You left the lab tired but satisfied. The day’s experiment had involved lifting several heavy mechanical components; ruin guard’s remains, to be precise. To your eternal chagrin the Doctor hadn’t struggled in the slightest, although you knew for a fact his sleep schedule was deplorable and he so rarely ate anything at all; in fact, you’d made a habit of discreetly leaving plates of food around the lab for him. A dish of vegetable stir fry you’d made in a sleep-deprived haze when your stomach rumbled loud enough to wake you and most likely every one of the castle’s inhabitants, a bowl of fruit, an exquisite chocolate mousse Anya had whipped up for you, and other such snacks scattered throughout the lab far away from any dangerous chemicals. Not that you’d admit to bringing them for him, much like how he’d deny having eaten any. What a strange, prideful pair the two of you made.

Your (well. Childe’s) coat snagged on something as you walked back to the dorm, yanking you back and forcing an obscene curse from your mouth. You crouched to inspect the source, and to your surprise found it to be the edge of a door that was left cracked. It would’ve been invisible if it were closed, and hooking your fingers into the narrow gap and pulling yielded no results. The door didn’t budge. Intrigued, you knelt fully to inspect the wedge; upon running your fingers up and down the seam you discovered a series of tiny, circular indents in the wood.

“Eureka,” you whispered softly. A similar mechanism could be found in several other places in the palace after careful inspection, and to your amusement they all required the same pattern to unlock. Terrible security. You tapped the indents in the order you’d long since memorised, and allowed a tiny, smug smile to overtake your lips when the door swung dutifully open. You slipped inside. The sheer height of hundreds of rows of bookshelves made itself known, and you let out a tiny ‘oh’ of astonishment. A library. The most beautiful one you’d ever stepped foot in, at that; even the House of Daena with its towering arches and marble couldn’t compare to the soft, weathered charm of this place, all hand-woven rugs and big windows framed by velvet curtains, plush armchairs and an array of tasteful stationery littered across every surface, cream paper and deeply coloured quills and ebony ink. You stood frozen in the doorway, taking it all in. If only you’d discovered this place long ago. A quick inspection of the books on the shelves revealed a myriad of genres and topics, even a few analyses bound in leather of subjects you’d itched to study but couldn’t because they were forbidden by the Akademiya. You glanced furtively around. Silent as the grave. Before you could lose your nerve, you quickly began pulling tomes from the shelves and stowing them in your leather satchel; surely no one would complain if you borrowed a few until the next time you could visit this miraculous place. Looking back, you were appalled by your own bravado.

“Oh? And what have we here?”

You froze, a book on the intricacies of destroying Visions halfway in your satchel. Oh, curses.

“Nothing but a curious student, sir,” you replied as smoothly as you could, turning to face the owner of the voice: a well-groomed man dressed entirely in black, from his raven hair to the shimmering jewels studded on the high collar of his shirt. Nauseatingly wealthy, that much was obvious from the fineness of the fur he wore and what seemed to be a diamond ring on his finger. The part of your brain that wasn’t panicking at being caught wondered if he’d let you test whether it was real or not; a simple and visually pleasing procedure to determine the refractive index was all it would take.

The stranger picked at his gloves, watching you over the rim of a rather excellent pair of glasses (you could tell from the set of the lenses in the frames; seamless as the door you’d unlocked to get into the library.)

“Really, now? A thirst for knowledge is all that drove you here, then?”

You swallowed nervously. Just how would you get yourself out of this predicament?

“The door was ajar, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might be inside.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And how did you manage to open the door all the way?”

You bit back the smug smile that was threatening to appear. Best to downplay yourself so as not to seem too clever; a man this rich would obviously be powerful too, and nothing good could come of revealing your assets to him.

“I don’t know, sir,” you replied, injecting as much cluelessness into your voice as you could. “I just pulled it open. My apologies for intruding, it wasn’t my intention.”

“That would be believable if I were just a touch more foolish. Unfortunately for you, I’m not convinced by your innocent act.” He smiled. “At all.”

Rich and intelligent. What a bothersome combination.

“I suppose my only defence is that I was unaware this was a private library,” you conceded, re-shelving the tome. The wistful look in your eyes as you did so was quite amusing, he thought.

“And how do you plan on earning my forgiveness?”

“What are my options?” You countered without missing a beat.

Hm. Not bad, he thought approvingly.

“Why not introduce yourself? I’d quite like to know the name of the thief who knows how to break into a library I thought impenetrable.”

You cleared your throat, embarrassed, and fidgeted discreetly with your gloves.

“I wouldn’t call myself a thief, sir. I fully intended on returning these once I had read them,” you protested, then gave him your name. “I’m an apprentice of the Doctor’s.”

Subtle realisation dawned on the man’s face.

“Oh, I see. The infamous ‘Trixy,’ no?”

“That… is indeed the nickname Lord Eleven insists on calling me by.” You were going to kill him, you really were.

He smiled. “I thought Dottore was exaggerating when he referred to you as ‘overly cunning.’ It looks like I was wrong.”

You frowned slightly at the casual use of the Doctor’s name. Archons. Just my luck, being caught nicking books from a Harbinger’s library.

“I am the Regrator.” Reaching towards you, he took hold of your hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, sir- my lord,” you replied, flustered by his greeting and your mistake. “Truly an honour. Allow me to once again extend my apologies for imposing myself on your property.”

“Not to worry, one apology was quite enough,” he replied with another smile. How quickly he changed his tune; a moment ago you were quite worried he’d do much worse than throw you out, but now he was all class and geniality. These two-faced Harbingers really would be the death of you, forcing you to switch between subtle defensiveness and gracefully accepting compliments.

“I’ll see myself out,” you said, breaking the impending silence. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.”

“No, no. Stay, I insist. In fact…” He took hold of your shoulders and steered you towards the fireplace, nudging you into a chair. “Why not take a seat? If my memory serves, today you’re to receive the requests forms, is that right?”

He grinned, satisfied, when you nodded in confirmation.

“Lovely. Tell me what it is you were going to have brought to the palace, and I’ll ensure its timely delivery.”

Your eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

“And what do you gain from providing me this assistance?”

“Your favour,” he replied promptly, so matter-of-fact that you thought you’d misheard. Well. If he was going to take the first shot and be such a flatterer, then you could certainly play along.

“Why, you’ve already gained it by extending your cordiality,” you said, lifting a gloved hand to your mouth to hide the grin threatening to overtake your features.

Regrator laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. The flickering glow of the fireplace threw the planes of his face into sharp relief, all razor-sharp angles that could cut through diamond. Unsettled, you took to pulling at the fingertips of your gloves for a moment’s respite from his eerie black gaze, glinting like the surface of a bottomless lake at night. Maybe, just maybe, masks were preferable.

“You’re something of a smooth talker,” he remarked. “Perhaps I’ve met my match.”

“I couldn’t hope to live up to your articulacy, my lord, though I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be so humble. I understand that you’re quite the genius in your own field, no?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Whatever gave you such an impression?”

“It’s not often Dottore goes larking about others’ intelligence,” he replied with equal amusement, watching the swirling clouds of snow outside the stained glass window. Now that caught you by surprise. Surely the Doctor, legend of the Akademiya and one of the arrogant men you ever had the displeasure of meeting, wouldn’t bestow you with such praise.

“I’m clever enough to get by,” you settled on saying, fingers itching to check your pocket watch. It had to be late, but the Regrator imposed a strange aura that compelled you to follow what little etiquette you knew of. The moment you realised this, however, you made a point of taking your watch out and checking the time. The only nonsensical rules you would allow to influence your behaviour were those that could eventually be explained; the laws of science.

“Terribly humble,” he murmured, repeating his previous statement with a touch more gratification.

“It never pays to be egotistical without good reason,” you concluded, making to get up. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord”-

“Sit, sit,” he said firmly, cutting you off. “You won’t have time to submit the request form now,” he pointed out. ‘You might as well stay and tell me what it is you need so I can take care of it.”

You cursed softly under your breath. He was right, unfortunately, and you really were in dire need of several necessities. Resignedly, you sat back down. The Regrator’s pleased twitch of his lips didn’t escape your notice; clearly he’d planned this out. Sneak.

“Much obliged,” you muttered, not without a healthy amount of resentment you didn’t bother hiding.

“But of course.”

He stared at you expectantly, that maddeningly unbothered half-smile never budging from his lips. You bit back a sigh. Best get this over with.

“Well, for starters, I need at least seventy grams each of qingxin, violetgrass, mourning flowers and lumidouce bells. Oh, and ten grams of sunsettia seeds. Other than that, one kilogram each of copper, crystal marrow and white iron, and as many chaos devices and spectral husks as you can afford.”

“That sounds similar to Dottore’s usual order, yes,” he mused. “But forgive me for asking… why the sunsettia seeds?”

“Sunsettia trees can be coaxed into growing under very harsh conditions, and I happen to quite like the fruit,” you answered with a shrug.

The half-smile widened just a touch.

“I see. Everything else on your list seems to pertain to laboratory work. Are you certain you won’t require any… more personal items?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Although, the doctor did say you would know why I didn’t receive the standard uniform for Fatui recruits,” you added as an afterthought. He blinked, as if caught by surprise.

“Why, it’s quite simple. You’re not considered a recruit at all.”

You stared unabashedly at him. “What?”

“It’s true,” he continued, toying with the fine silver chain of his glasses. “Your file simply has 'scholar' written as the rank.”

“How ambiguous,” you bit out, dragging a hand down your face. For all their bluster and pomp, you’d decided that the Fatui were a ragtag group of disorderly misfits with no sense of how to run such a large and influential organisation. ‘Rank: Scholar? Seriously? Keqing’s voice in your head pointedly asked if you thought you would me more up to the task of filing accurate records on thousands of people. You mentally grumbled.

“Quite fitting for a mysterious person like you.”

You lifted your head to shoot him an incredulous glance. “Yes, absolutely, my lord,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath. “My every action is so veiled in mystique, I can hardly see a metre in front of me from all the smoke and mirrors.”

The Regrator chuckled quietly.

“Clearly you understand that brevity is the soul of wit.”

“Just bursting with wisecracks, my lord,” you deadpanned. “It’s time I should be going.” Rising from your chair, you cast a longing glance across the library. “…Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for permission to visit your library now and again?”

“Permission granted,” he conceded with a nod and twinkle in his fathomless eyes. “You’d be a welcome guest at any time.”

With a grateful ‘thank you’ and a brief smile, you hurried out of the secret door and back to your dorm.

As far as you were concerned, morning had yet to begin if it was almost noon. The sky was completely clouded over, not a glimpse of the tenuous blue visible through the layers upon layers of cottony white. In your professional opinion, if the sun wasn’t visible then the day hadn’t even started; hence why you were still in bed savouring your only day off of the week.

With a contented sigh, you pulled the blankets up to your chin and settled in a more comfortable positon, the battering of the wind against your window and the distant crowing of ravens forming a lulling symphony. Sleep was just around the corner.

A crash startled you out of your pleasant half-awake reverie, the suddenness of the movement quite effectively acquainting your skull with the wooden headboard. You muttered a string of curses, electing to ignore whoever had the unparalleled audacity to make such a noise and go back to sleep. The intruder wasn’t as agreeable about your plan, unfortunately.

“Rise and shine, Trixy!” An all too familiar voice rang out. You groaned and buried your head beneath the covers. Maybe it was a hallucination that would disappear if you ignored it. Hallucinations weren’t tangible, however, but Childe very much was, judging from how he shook your shoulder and prevented you from slipping back into your slumber. You made a half-hearted attempt to bat his hand away.

“Heavens’ sake, Childe,” you rasped, curling up tighter and willing him to go away. The use of his name rather than a snidely bit out title, or worse still, just his rank, gave him pause. You congratulated yourself on managing to shock him long enough to allow yourself to settle back into the mattress. Not even a moment later you felt a freezing pair of hands grab your ankles and pull.

“H-hey!” You kicked and thrashed, but Childe just laughed and tugged you out of bed. You could’ve sobbed. “What do you want?” You grumbled, crossing your arms.

“Awww, it’s almost as if you don’t want me here,” he said with a pout, watching you rub your eyes and push the hair out of your face. You were softer around the edges like this, he thought, hackles lowered slightly and the suspicion in your eyes worn away by sleep.

“You’re slow on the uptake, but know that I’m proud of you for finally coming to a correct conclusion,” you deadpanned. “Now tell me what’s so bloody important that you saw it fit to wake me.”

He grinned brightly. “It’s your day off, isn’t it? I wanted to take you to the city!”

You opened your mouth to snap out a scathing retort that would probably have him leaving the room in a huff, then closed it again. He looked so hopeful, all wide eyes wrinkling at the corners from the wideness of his boyish grin. You wanted to kick yourself for going so soft on him.

“Alright,” you conceded. “Let’s go to the city.”

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  

taglist: @shikanosn, @viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx

if you want to be added or removed from the taglist then just send me a message!! in a similar vein, if you want to be mutuals then dm meeeeeee

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: You show your support for Charles and he shows his support for you. Warnings: 18+only, just Charles being himself WC: 2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

“Hurry up or you’re going to be late to your own show,” Bea urged as she tugged at your arm. “Come on, we have to go!”

You rose on your tiptoes and tried to look over the sea of people. “Just one more minute.”

“I gave you ten.”

You checked your phone again but there was no new message from Charles since his last update that he was just going to quickly shower. You had briefly seen him before the free practice, but other than a few quiet words in the back of Ferrari’s hospitality you hadn’t really spent any time with him since landing in Las Vegas. 

You had thought scheduling concerts in the same city would mean seeing more of Charles but nothing was ever quite that simple.

Sighing, you sent him a message apologising for leaving without a proper goodbye and reminded him not to wait up for you. It would be late by the time you finished the show and he needed an early night before his qualifying race, but hopefully you were able to find a few minutes together in the morning before he left.

The drive through the city was long with traffic congestion and you spent most of it checking your phone to the point that Bea leaned over and ripped it from your hands.

“Hey!” you growled as she tossed it into the front seat beside the chauffeur. “I was using that.”

“No, you were distracted by it.” She grabbed a bottle of champagne from the minifridge and popped the cork. “Here, bottoms up.”

“Classy,” you murmured as you took the bottle and drank straight from it.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and took it back for a quick swig of her own. “At least I know it will get you to relax. Luckily your makeup has survived the day, there won’t be time to redo it.”

“There was a time when you said I didn’t need make up, is this you saying I’m getting ugly?”

“Pfft, bitch, please. If I thought you were ugly I would tell it to you straight, like a good friend. You’re beautiful and I’m jealous, I just thank god I have these,” she said as she grabbed her boobs for emphasis. “They kill my back, but they look damn good.”

“Forget your back, I heard they nearly killed Pierre,” you chuckled. “I think his fans would have a problem if you accidentally smothered him with those.”

“At least he would die happy and doing what he loved. Imagine that obituary.”

“I’d rather not.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of any type of obituary for a racer, it was an all too real possibility you tried not to dwell on.

Bea agreed quietly with another drink from the bottle and cast her eyes out the window, taking in the bright lights of the strip. She nearly spit out her mouthful at the sight of an electronic billboard advertising the first Las Vegas F1 race. “Wow, they really got him again?”

You leaned over the seat and saw the ad of Charles decked out in a glittering jacket, elvis wig and pink feather boa as a deck of cards rained down. A laugh bubbled up as you took the bottle back and brought it up to your lips with a dopey smile. “He’s too sweet and trusting, a little gullible too.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she joked as the car pulled into the service entrance of the MGM. and she took the half empty bottle away. “Can’t have you drunk on opening night.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

She reached through the front and grabbed it off the seat. “Fine, but no moping like a sad sap because we have to run.”

The door to the car opened to an entourage of people chiding you for the tardiness and you were hustled through the back channels of the building, stopping briefly in a room little larger than a closet to change outfits before you reached the backstage area.

“You have five minutes,” the head coordinator warned as Bea arrived with a cup of lemon, ginger and honey tea to help warm your vocal chords.

You thanked her as you sipped the hot drink and felt your phone vibrate with a notification as Scuderia Ferrari’s Instagram went live. ‘Music Challenge’ was the caption and you waved Bea over knowing they were always entertaining.

“Oh, I love this song,” Charles exclaimed as he nodded his head along.

“You say that every time,” Carlos complained.

“Kill Bill?”

“Correct!” The interviewer confirmed as Carlos groaned and fell back into the couch in defeat.

“How do you know that?”

“I listen to a lot of music.”

They both fell silent as the next song started and they both smashed their hands on their little bells.

“Flowers,” Carlos shouted. “Flowers, flowers, I got it first.”

“You got it loudest,” Charles disputed but the moment the next song started he was jumping up and pinging his bell in time. “Y/N, Love You Need!” He turned to Carlos and blew him a kiss. “It’s my song.”

“That’s not fair, I don’t have a song.”

“I’m sure someone has written a song about you, probably not a love song though,” Charles teased before he checked his watch. “Ay, I need to go or the next song she writes about me won’t be happy either. Ciao!”

“He quit so I win, right?”

“No, no, no I didn’t quit.” Charles paused his exit to point an accusing finger back at his teammate. “You took so long fixing your hair that we started late.”

“Still, I win, because you’re leaving.”

“See this,” Charles turned to the camera, his hand still waving to his team mate, “he doesn’t care about winning, he’s just upset he wasn’t invited to Y/N’s concert. Carlos?”

Carlos batted his eyelashes with a smile. “Yes, Charles?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

Carlos was already on his feet. “I thought you would never ask.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Vamos, we’re late.”

You turned to Bea as the live feed ended and you shoved your phone into the storage cupboard beside the stairs leading to the stage. “Did you know he was coming?”

“Duh, who do you think set him up with a backstage pass?” She shrugged and put her own phone away along with her jacket. “I gave him a few in case he wanted to bring some friends.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean Pierre…”

“I mean friends, and if that happens to be Pierre then I have no problem with that.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to tease her further about the commitment issues the two of them had before a microphone was shoved into your hands and you were pointed to the stage entrance.

“Kill it babe!” Bae shouted with a thumbs up as she jogged around to the other stage entrance for her cue.

The sold out crowd was a swirling mass of energy and it swelled as you stepped into the spotlight, their screams barely blocked by the earpieces that you had pushed into your ears as you took the stairs. The rush of seeing the excitement on their faces never ceased to amaze you and you bounced on your toes eagerly.

“What’s up, Las Vegas? Are you doing alright tonight?” Their responding screams shook the stage and widened your grin. “That’s good to hear, because, for me, well, I’m Fine.”

The music started and remembered the day you started writing the song, taking off from Monaco. It had begun as a tribute to Bea and the friendship you shared but then as the weeks went by and Charles stayed in touch it had evolved. It really was a song for any sort of relationship and why it was one of your favourites after Love You Need.

“Woke up too early, Almost put salt in my coffee, Oh, I thank God that you stopped me before that.”

You grinned to the shadows where you knew Bea was waiting, having been the inspiration for the line.

“Tripped over something, Spilt it all over your front seat, Didn't even say I'm sorry about that.”

You had been so frazzled trying to clean the mess up in Charles’ ridiculously expensive car that you had forgotten to apologise at the time. You had made it up to him later, and luckily it hadn’t stained, probably credit to the expensive upholstery.

“On and on, it's just more of the same And even when you ask if I'm okay… I try to say I'm fine (I'm fine).”

The drummer came in with the heavy beat for the chorus and the hands in the crowd waved in time as Bea jumped into the spotlight for her parts. This was what made it a favourite of yours, when she grasped your hand like she had when you had broken down over your ex. She had called you on your bullshit when you said you were fine and she had been there through the worst. It made performing this with her even more special. 

The entire concert was going to be even more special knowing Charles was going to be in the crowd soon and he knew exactly which songs were devoted to him. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was coming because he balanced you, and everything was equal between you. You supported him in his races whenever you could make it to them and he supported you when he could make it to yours, but you knew how tired he would have been after his day. 

There were thousands of people beyond the blindly bright lights of the stage but somehow you knew where to look when you felt the energy shift halfway into the set. And there he was. 

He must have changed in the car as he was no longer wearing the bold red Ferrari shirt, opting for more sedate casual clothes to blend in with the crowd. It didn’t exactly stay that way when you pointed to him during one of his songs, singing the lines solely for him and drawing the attention to him.

“Can we stay frozen in time, in between hello and goodbye?”

You collapsed onto the bed of the hotel still riding the high from the concert and Charles fell down with you, equal parts of happiness and exhaustion warring in his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” you said as you rolled onto your side to face him so you could cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the 5 o’clock shadow along his jaw. 

“I will soon,” he murmured as his arm curled over your waist and pulled you closer. “I just want to hold you for a little while.” He tucked you into the curve of his body until there wasn’t any space left between you, his cheek resting atop your head. “You make me so proud, seeing you living your dream. I wish I could be at every concert.”

“Me too,” you sighed longingly. “It’s the hardest thing when we have to say goodbye.”

His chest rose and fell slowly as he relaxed in the embrace, bordering on the edge of sleep. “You’ve never asked me not to race.”

“Why would I do that?” You pulled back to see his face and recognised the look. It was something his ex had asked of him. “Would the moon ask the sun not to rise? No, because both are equally important and their paths still cross. We are the sun and the moon.”

You felt his smile as he kissed your forehead. “Am I the moon or the sun?” 

“The moon,” you stated as you tipped your head back so you could stare into those gorgeous eyes if his. “You are there to lighten my darkest nights.”

“And you make my day infinitely brighter.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[agent-barnes40]

Teddy bears

13th Doctor x GN!Reader (romantic)

The Doctor doesn’t realize the bear she bought you would have lasting consequences.

Fluff, pure fuckin fluff

The Doctor really really should’ve thought better when you came running up to her, practically death gripping her hands and dragging her back to the shop you had launched yourself into. Her brain was running a thousand miles a minute, trying to figure out what you had found, or if you had gotten into trouble. Instead, she saw the shop keep setting a brown stuffed bear on a shelf behind the counter, with two TARDIS blue hearts stitched over the chest.

"Please, Doctor. I would've given them earth currency but we don't have a universal currency and I don't know what currency this planet takes. I won't ask you to pay for anything ever again." You had practically begged, your voice coming out with words that even her brain had a hard time keeping track of.

The Doctor had to laugh, you looked adorable looking between her and the bear. Your feet were still tapping in excitement at finding the bear at all. "Yeah, we can get you the bear, if that is what your asking for."

"I forgot to even mention what I wanted! Oh thank you so much!" You didn't even think and pulled the woman in for a kiss.

The Doctor eagerly kissed back, her brain lighting up with ideas of what else she could do to have more kisses like this. Obviously more stuffed animals had made their way onto her list. She gently pulled away and rested her hands on your hips, laughing softly.

~

She really should've thought better when you started carrying the bear around everywhere, if she even mentioned there could've been a chance at sleeping outside The TARDIS. You had it stuffed in a bag you took everywhere. You and The Fam were curled up in a tiny tent, miles away from the TARDIS and you had pulled the bear out, setting it in your lap as she paced back and forth.

Yaz just smiled at the bear while Ryan snorted. "You still carry it around everywhere."

You smiled and nodded. "Gotta have a piece of my Time Lord with me everywhere I go. Plus, she's gonna be so busy tonight trying to figure out how to fix all this, she won't be open to cuddling. So next best thing."

The Doctor stilled at that, and then started pacing again. Graham was the one who picked up on The Doctor's stutter in her walk and the smile that had crossed the Time Lord's face.

Of course, you had been right and spent the night curled around the bear, and The Doctor had just stared at you. Your face had been burrowed into the bear's chest, barely enough room for you breath but it was how you slept with her.

~

The Doctor really should've checked the bear after that night, because when she heard you talking to someone in her room, her heart dropped and when she peeked her head in, and saw you curled up in her lilac and rainbow bedding, that damned bear sitting on your chest with her voice coming out of it.

She immediately pulled her sonic out and tried to discretely sonic it but your ears had caught the whirring and you sat up. "Hi Doc!"

Her eyes watched as the bear fell onto her side of the bed and she couldn't help but feel the spike of jealousy in her hearts as you readjusted the bear into a sitting position. She slowly moved the rest of the way into the room and sat next to the bear. "So when did you get it to speak to you?"

You tilted your head before looking at the bear. "I thought you did that. I had left her on the bed when we went out on Lavernus and when I came back she had started talking back to me."

"She?" The Doctor asked and you looked away from her, trying to not show how flustered you were.

"I mean, its kinda obvious who I'm projecting onto that bear, Doc."

"I just heard my own voice come out of that bear. I know the bear is representing me."

"Oh-Oh good, because its kinda embarrassing to project your girlfriend onto a stuffed bear."

The Doctor suddenly pulled you into a kiss, her hand wrapped the back of your head, gently keeping you in place. When she finally pulled away, she pressed her forehead to yours and a smile was on her face. "Do you know how jealous of that bear I have been since I bought it for you?"

[noforkingclue]

Hi! Could you write a first kiss with Twelve ? Cute and fluffy. I love your work!!!

Note: requests are currently closed

Aww, thank you so much anon! I hope you like the fic :)

Title: Kisses

You laughed as you and the Doctor burst through the TARDIS doors. You slumped against the wood as the Doctor ran around the TARDIS console. Seeing him run like this, with that much excitement, made you forget just how old he really was. How small you humans must seem to him.

“There,” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “we’re safe.”

“You sure about that Doc?”

“Have I ever lied to you before?” the Doctor made his way over to you, “and what have I said about calling me ‘Doc’?”

“You know you love it really.”

He stopped directly in front of you and looked down at you. He raised his eyebrows at you and you held out your hand.

“Are you serious?” he asked

“Yes.”

“What,” he leant down slightly, “are you incapable of lifting yourself off the floor.”

“I’m asking for help,” you said, “I thought you liked helping people.”

The Doctor gave you a pointed look before shaking his head.

“I do,” he said, “but you are fully capable of doing this yourself.”

“But Doc-”

“Don’t whine,” he said sternly, “and don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yes you are.”

Of course the Doctor couldn’t tell you the real reason he wouldn’t (or couldn’t) help you. To touch you, to pull you up and inevitably against him, to have you so close to him. Well, he might do something regrettable. You smiled up at him and wiggled your fingers. Damn it, maybe this time-

You let out a yelp as the TARDIS doors were flung open. You fell backwards and looked up into the confused face of Nardole. Damn it again. The Doctor hadn’t even realised you had landed. Nardole glanced between you and the Doctor before saying in amusement,

“I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

“No,” you said, pushing yourself to your knees, “No. Just the Doctor refusing to help.”

“Refusing to help. Now that is surprising.”

You shrugged and finally got to your feet and left the TARDIS. Nardole walked further into the TARDIS as the Doctor rested against the TARDIS.

“Shut up.” the Doctor said

“I wasn’t going to say anything, sir.”

“You were. You had that annoying look on your face.”

“It’s just my face, sir.”

“Exactly.”

Nardole watched for a second longer as the Doctor continued to fuss about the console.

“I bet you want the human to call you sir.”

“What did I tell you about shutting up.”

*

It had been almost a week until he saw you again. Bill said that you had some coursework due and needed to concentrate. Secretly the Doctor was relieved. He still had the image of you on your knees in front of him and he didn’t want to face you while he still thought of you like that.

You deserved better.

“Anyone home?”

You knocked on the TARDIS door but she let you in anyway. The Doctor glared at the machine but she just twinkled her lights back at him. Even she was betraying him.

“So,” you said slowly as you walked towards him, “sorry I haven’t been around. I had-”

“Coursework,” the Doctor interrupted, “Bill told him.” he added quickly

“Yes,” you shut the door behind you, “I did ask her to pass on the message but you know what she’s like.”

An unusually awkward silence fell between the two. Even in the limitless space of the TARDIS the Doctor suddenly felt claustrophobic.

“So,” you said again, “about last week.”

“Last week?”

You were by his side now. The Doctor could practically feel your body heat and the smell of your perfume was dominating his senses. You nudged him playfully and he finally looked down at you. You smiled up at him and opened your mouth but the Doctor was quicker.

In a flash he was cupping your face and had pressed his lips against yours. You let out a squeak of surprise, a sound which was muffled by his lips. You put your hands on his shoulders and for a moment the Doctor thought you were going to push him away. However, your hands curled against his jacket and pulled him towards you. You broke the kiss far too soon for his liking but the Doctor also knew that humans had a greater need for air.

“Well,” you said, licking your lips, “that took far too long. I didn’t think I was exactly being subtle last week.”

“Subtle?” it hit the Doctor, “you were… flirting with me?”

“Bill’s idea,” you rested your head against his chest, “but I’m not exactly the most flirtatious person in the world.”

“Now then, I definitely think I’m interrupting something.”

You and the Doctor looked over at Nardole. He glanced between you and slowly backed out of the TARDIS.

“I’ll leave you to your,” he waved a hand, “thing.”

“How long before he’ll tell Bill?” you muttered as he left

“Almost immediately.” replied the Doctor

“And no chance of us telling her before him?”

“No chance.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[astr0-philia]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟞: 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕁𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤?

Prolouge 1 2 3 4 5 6 7(ongoing)

[Third Person]:

'This is not good'

Hurried footsteps resounded in the halls and were increasing by the moment. Our protagonist was sprinting around in the hallway trying to find her class 1D. It was 10:30 am in the morning and it was not good. [Y/n] was beyond pissed that she missed not one but two of her first classes of the day. She absolutely hated being tardy to any of her classes. (She had tutors at the palace that taught her.)

'I just need to go to gym class and check in to my class.....now where the hell is it.....'

This wouldn't have happened if Ace DIDN'T piss off Grim, and she DIDN'T wake up late. Partially it was her fault but she chose to ignore it due to her panic and anger. 

As she ran without a care ignoring her surroundings she rushed to find a door labeled 1D.

Yes, that was the name of her class.

What was supposed to be a 5 minute search turned in to a 20 minute scavenger hunt, she was getting tired by the second and her pace was slowing down.

She was giving up .

Dragging her feet across the floor, she sulked at her own misery. 

'Why is this happening! I didn't do anything wrong, I was just trying to find my class. Why did I have too meet those idiots anyway?! I could have just ignored them and I could have gotten to class earlier. I even got in trouble......I hate this......I HATE THIS.'

Tears welled up in her eyes as she was lost in her thoughts. Just as she reached the end of the hallway [Y/n] wiped her tears turning to the next corner to check. 

Wait what-

Huh....HUH?????

'Oh thank the heavens!'

The door labeled 1D. [Y/n] couldn't be even happier in her life. Not even waiting for a second she starts to speed-walk towards the door with accelerating speeds finding it hard to stop due to her adrenaline.

'I PRAISE THE GREATER LORD WHO HELPED ME FIND THIS DOOR. Thank you, thank you, thank you-'

Then she bumped into something hard-

"Oof-"

"UuAugh-" an unknown voice grumbled.

"Dammit what's with me and bumping into things nowadays…." [Y/n] mumbled as she rubbed her head as it slightly throbbed in pain.

[Y/n] looked up at the man she had bumped in to. 

'Damn he hot-'

The guy [Y/n] had bumped in to had light green hair which was slicked back making a clean look. He had fair and pale skin. His eyes were also a beautiful yellow-green with vertical-slit pupils and pointed eyelashes. (Thank Twisted wonderland wiki for this description 😭)

He wore a green armband contrasting her own. The color defining him as a student from the dorm of Diasomania. The boy had his head down, causing a shadow to cover his face and making it hard for her to see his facial expression. 

As soon as she started to apologize. "Excuse me sir I am very sor-"

"YOU DARE BUMP INTO ME FOOLISH MORTAL" bellowed the green haired man interrupting her in the middle of her sentence. He drew closer to [Y/n]'s face with every word.

[Y/n] stepped back at the sudden proximity between them and, physically tensed at his insult.

"Well I'm sorry! I was just trying to get to my class!" retorted back [y/n] in rising anger. "I was ALSO trying to apologize to you idiot!" Jabbing his chest at every word she had spoken.

'To THINK I thought this guy was HOT'

"WELL I AM PRETTY SURE YOU WERE NOT TRYING TO" said the green haired man flinging her hand away from his chest in great momentum. The guy was fuming and so was she. 

"I WAS"

"YOU WEREN'T"

"I WAS"

"YOU WERE-"

"Ehhm......" A voice interrupted the angry green haired boy.

Both the teens snapped their heads towards the man with fury. 

The man was nonetheless shocked at the amount of fury the duo had in their but choose to ignore that.

"Stop this nonsense at once!" The man commanded in a demanding tone, causing both of them to back away from each other and face him.

The man looked quite unique at first sight. He had hair which was partitioned with 2 colors: black and white. He wore a suit and tie also partitioned with black and white matching his hair. He also wore a very fluffy looking black and white overcoat.

'Bro is the obsessed with black and white I see'

"What are you children doing here at this time, shouldn't you both be in classes?" Asked the man, as he looked at them suspiciously. He looked at them with the eyes of a predator, staring them down and examining them cautiously. 

Then his eyes widened.

"You aren't doing any funny business are you?" Questioned the man looking even more suspicious and concerned than before.

'Funny business 😨, I can't imagine doing anything with this bastard!' [Y/n] grimaced at thought

"SIR I AM SORRY BUT I WOULD NEVER DO ANY FUNNY BUSINESS WITH THIS CREATURE" Shouted the green haired boy with displeasure at the thought of [Y/n]

'I can feel all the spit coming out of his mouth right now.'

"Hey! That's not nice" [Y/n] screamed as she slapped his arm as hard as she could in retaliation to his statement.

"Well children-" interrupting the chaos they were creating again the man said. "-I am Divius Crewel teacher of potionology in this school-" towering over them as he stated "-once again I must ask why are you two out right now and not in your classes?" ending his statement, looking at us judgmentally waiting for our answer.

"SIR I  AM FROM CLASS 1D AND I WAS GOING TO THE FIELD FOR PHYSICAL EDUCATION BEFORE I BUMPED IN TO THIS CREATURE" answered the green haired boy screaming in the teachers face.

'HE'S IN MY CLASS????? Can't my luck get even worse.....'

Crewel then wiped his face looking disgusted, looked at the green haired boy again and asked another question.

"What is your name boy"

"MY NAME IS SEBEK ZIGVOLT SIR" The green haired boy now known as Sebek replied.

"Boy, will you stop with the SCREAMING?" bellowed Crewel angrily.

Sebek, startled by the scolding, just huffed and nodded at Mr.Crewel.

*Huff*

"Well now young lady......what class might you be from and where are you planning to go?"

'I was so not ready for this'

"Well sir......I am also from class 1D and I am also searching for the field for physical education....."

*Cue Sebek with the offended gasp*

"I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M IN THE SAME CLASS AS YOU-"

"WELL ME NEITHER NIT-WIT"

"This is why I will never have children..." mumbled Crewel.

"NOW NOW CHILDREN-" raising his voice as he spoke.

"-I will not tolerate this behavior anymore-" If looks could kill [Y/n] and Sebek would have been in their graves right now.

"-now follow me quickly, I will lead you to your classes." He swiftly turned around as if signaling them to follow him.

[Y/n] mockingly pushing Sebek to the side quickly started to follow Crewel Leaving the poor boy in the dust.

"This bit**" mumbled Sebek as he ran towards them quickly to reach them.

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They were walking through the same halls [Y/n] had been running through a while ago. It felt like she was backtracking back the way she had ran away from.

'How could I be so stupid?'

The halls looked like the halls [Y/n] had walked through in the beginning of her time here. Green flames spewing out of fire holders. The same wooden carved doors, and the same bricks that towered over them creating walls. Though this experience was not as pleasant as the previous.

She could already feel the dread piling up inside of herself. Not only had she gotten in trouble with the headmaster but she had also gotten in trouble with another teacher that would possibly teach her. 

Oh lets not forget about the brat.

[Y/n] could feel Sebek's furious gaze on her as they walked down the hall in silence. It showed how much he resented her right now. He's probably mad because they got in trouble. She was getting kind of annoyed by his stare, so she turned around to acknowledge Sebek's stare.

To say the least, he was quite surprised at the fact that [Y/n] had turned around to look at him, but nonetheless his anger returned and he once again started to look at me angrily.

'Heh lets see who wins this staring contest.'

As they continued to stare at each other the tension grew between them. If a bystander had looked at them they would have thought they were in love, but nonetheless the contest went on. 

As the duo kept on staring at each other, Sebek couldn't help but notice how beautiful [Y/n] looked at the moment. Her [e/c] eyes were glowing in the sunlight from the window with confidence he had never seen before. The strands of her [h/c] hair framed her face. Her face looked like a sculpture sculpted by Michelangelo. Her face was alluring, and Sebek couldn't deny it at all.

Sebek stuck in a trance couldn't help but blink in reflex looking at [Y/n].

'Hah! I knew I would win.' thought [y/n] as she smirked unknowing of the boy's thoughts.

[Y/n] came closer to Sebek. Snapping him out his trance, and confusing him at the action. At the moment they were so close that if either one of them had moved an inch would kiss immediately. 

As [Y/n] drew closer she turned her head a little left reaching his ear and whispering "I won~"

Sebek quickly drew back as quickly as he could, flustered by the girl's action. Turned his head toward the side as he blushed like crazy. [Y/n] being as oblivious as she is giggled in glee not noticing him blush.

Crewel just walked in front of them oblivious of the fact that they were both having a staring contest at the back. Not that he cared enough to notice.

As they walked further down the hall. Some doors ahead there was a ray of light passing through an opened door at the front. When they reached the door, Professor Crewel opened the door with great force, causing a slam to be heard throughout the hallway. 

The sound shocked both Sebek and [Y/n] to the core.

As they went out into the field, their eyes stung as the sun contrasted the dark and gloomy nature of the hallways inside the building.

'My eyes.....'

The sounds of students chattering and running throughout the fields could be heard.

"Well pups, here's your class."

"Thank you so much Professor Crewel" replied [Y/n] with utmost gratefulness.

"THANK YOU SIR" 

"Now now, your welcome pups, and I should see no more fights between you pups." he stated pointing at both of them individually before turning to leave to go back into the building. Leaving both Sebek and [Y/n] in the sun.

"Well brat you ready to go face P.E.?"

"YOU'RE LUCKY YOU'RE A GIRL OR I WOULD I PUNCH YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW."

'Heh....but ya can't'

Sebek kept on spewing threats to [Y/n] as they walked to the instructor. 

The teacher looked basically like a knock-off version of hulk. He had bulking muscles, and he ALSO wore a tight shirt making it look like he wanted to emphasize muscles. He also wore TIGHT pants, she swore to god that she would not specify what she just saw..... (R.I.P. [Y/n] 💀)

The teacher then noticed the duo walking to him and grinned like a maniac.

"Hello children. I am Ashton Vargas, the teacher  for P.E. what may I help you with today?" asked in an enthusiastic tone.

"Well Professor Vargas we were supposed to come to this class, but somehow got lost and reached now! What are we supposed to do for the class.....?"

"YES PROFESSOR VARGAS WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?"

Professor Vargas sweatdropped as he replied "Well children you have come at the wrong time. Since the class-"

*Ring, Ring*

"-has ended"

Shocked at the revelation both Sebek and [Y/n] stood there mouth wide open and confused.

"Well now I need to go and dismiss my class. Now run along to lunch now."

[Y/n] snapping out of her daze looked at Sebek and asked "Do you know where the cafeteria is?" Feeling embarrassed that she did not know where the cafeteria was. 

Scoffing, Sebek smirked at [Y/n] raising his eyebrow trying to tease the poor girl.

'Why the fuck is this guy so annoying 😭'

"WELL I GUESS I COULD HELP. Though you have to repay the favor when I do need help." replied to [Y/n]in a normal tone for the first time.

"WOAH? Sebek talking in a classroom voice, that's so rare!"

"SHUT UP!"

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So basically what happened next was that Sebek being a nice brat helped [Y/n] get to the cafeteria with no issues. Then ditched her to go sit with his friends on the Diasomania dorm table at the farthest end of the cafeteria.

'Then again I thought we were friends for a sec'

As she went to the line to get her lunch. She remembered something.

'Oh shit I forgot to take my purse from my box didn't I......'

Welp, I guess that meant no lunch for her. So she went towards the hallway to walk around and explore. It was quite interesting I must say all the paintings and every-

'OH SHIT I FORGOT I HAVE TO GO HELP CLEAN WINDOWS WITH YUU TODAY!'

As if she was sonic she turned around and ran as fast she could to the place where she was supposed to meet Yuu.  As she reached the empty area of the hallway she noticed two people in the distance. A human and a small pet looking thing- that was probably Grim. So she ran to them to meet them.

"Hi Yuu!"

Startled by her sudden appearance the poor boy stuttered his response "O-oh Hi [Y-[Y/n]"

"Gah! Took you long enough to come! We were waiting for ages." complained Grim as he was tired of staying in one spot the whole time.

"How about I carry you so you don't have to feel tired, Grim?" [Y/n] asked Grim with a big smile on her face.

Grim stunned by the innocent gesture and smile couldn't help but feel giddy. "W-well I mean sure..."

So [Y/n] picked him up and in to her arms. As if on instinct Grim snuggled up in to [Y/n]'s arms like a baby would do in a mothers. Grim had never felt so happy in his life.

"Well then [Y/n] now that you are here we are just waiting for Ace." Yuu exclaimed.

"Well then we just wait then."

"What's buggin' me is, Ace ain't even here yet! To make us wait, after what he did... Grrr!"

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*15 minutes later*

".........."

".........."

"..............And now he's super late! I bet he up and bailed on us!" Grim exclaimed in anger while punching the air in anger. 

"I didn't actually think he would bail out of it...." [Y/n] mumbled as she thought of the boy's behavior. "At second thought he probably would" She said once again, sweat dropping.

"We should look for him." said Yuu calmly as he gestured to us to follow him around the hall.

As we walked around. Once again plenty of paintings were hung on the wall but there was a specific painting that caught [Y/n]’s eye. It was a picture of a beautiful soldier on top of a snow white horse in a meadow. It looked beautiful.

As she went closer to the painting-

"Hey! Ace! Get over here! Try to hide from me, will ya! Huh... Maybe there's really no one here?" Grim shouted out trying to catch the attention of the redhead who was nowhere to be seen. Startling the girl.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, I'm here." Another voice rang out from somewhere. It came from the painting [Y/n] was looking at.

The three of them looked quite confused from where it came. Then [Y/n] spoke up announcing something.

"Guys.....I think the painting I was looking at just talked....." 

"Yes girl, indeed it was me who talked." Once again the same painting on the wall spoke in a confident voice.

"Bwaaah! That painting just talked!" Grim exclaimed in fear as he dropped out of [Y/n]'s arms to hide behind Yuu's legs.

"Yes, and...? (Slay arianna grande) Is a talking painting really such an oddity at this school?"

"Well I mean......" Yuu muttered in awe.

"The lady in the portrait on that wall talks too. As does the gentleman in the portrait on this one."

"But we haven't heard a single one of them talk!" exclaimed [Y/n] in disbelief

'Are all these paintings able to talk too 😨'

"As long as a painting has a mouth, why wouldn't it be able to talk? Is that really so strange?"

"Of course it's so strange! You don't see paintings talkin' around here man!" Grim said to the painting on the wall.

"In fact, yes. Paintings don't usually talk." Yuu also stated backing up Grim's statement.

"Well, your "usual" and my "usual" clearly differ. Shall we agree to disagree on the matter?"

"Sure.....?" [Y/n] said unsure of the answer she had said.

'Can this end already we need to find Ace!' [Y/n] thought while getting impatient.

"Now, you seem to be searching for someone." Finally asked the painting to them. 

"So we're looking for a guy-" As Yuu started to explain the situation and tell who we were searching for.

"We're lookin' for this guy called Ace. He's got messy hair and a heart drawn on his face." Grim interrupted Yuu clearly annoyed of how slow this conversation was going on.

"Ah, I know the one. A new student, I believe? Today was his first day at school. I think he went back to his dorm a while ago." Sated the painting making Grim even more fidgety and impatient than before. 

"Myaaah! So it's true! He's tryin' to ditch us! Do you know which way he went?"

"Well then let's go quick before we miss the guy totally!" exclaimed [Y/n] as she started to walk towards the mirror hall gesturing for the duo to follow her.

"The door to the dorms is in the eastern building." stated the painting.

"Let's chase after him, [Y/n], Yuu!"

"Let's go! Let's go!" said Yuu, pushing both [Y/n] and Grim forward. To increase their speed.

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"Yeah right, like I'm gonna have a hundred windows. I'm just gonna go back and—" Said Ace gleefully skipping towards his dorms, happy he got out of cleaning the windows, unknowing of the danger following him.

"AHA! GOTCHA, PUNK!" Exclaimed Grim catching the redhead's attention.

"Oh no! They saw me!"

"Stop right there, pal! No fair gettin' a head start! Wait!" Grim exclaimed trying to make Ace stop.

"Stop ditching your responsibilities and actually do something good for once!" said Yuu, getting annoyed at the boy's antiques.

"Who in their right mind would ever wait?! See ya!" Ace shouted at the trio before running away at full speed.

Then of course they had to run after him. 

'How many fu**ing times do I have to actually run today....'

They ran and ran and ran. Ace however did not stop. It seemed very determined to get them off his tail and get out of cleaning the windows.

"Eh..?" Suddenly an unfamiliar voice resounded in the halls as they ran.

"Outta my way!" Ace screeched out pushing the poor boy to the side with great force as he continued to run foward with speeds she didn't think he could run. 

"Hey! What gives?!" said the stranger.

The boy that she saw had blue hair and shining blue eyes. He wore the same dorm band and uniform as Ace signifying that he was from the same dorm as him. He also had shining blue eyes the matched his hair. On his face was drawn a spade, just like how Ace had a heart drawn under his eye.

"Help us!"

"Please, stop him!"

"Myah! Get him now"

All three of them screamed at the poor boy startling him.

"You want me to cast a spell to stop him?" asked the blue haired boy curiously as he also started running with the trio following after Ace.

"YES! PLEASE DO IT QUICK!" exclaimed [Y/n] as she was starting to huff and puff from the exhaustion of running too much.

"Like, freeze his legs? Or bind them with a rope? Or maybe I could... Hmm... No..."

"I don't care how! Just do something! Anything!" Grim screamed at him in annoyance.

'Just do it quickly-'

"Anything?! Anything, huh... Alright! Here goes anything! I summon thee... something heavy!"

*Poof*

There was a black object falling from the sky and was falling towards Ace as he ran ahead confidently. The black thing fell on Ace with great force falling on his back causing him to fall on to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Bwaaah?! Wha?! A pot?!" Ace shrieked in pain as he glanced at the object that had fallen on him.

As the four of them reached Ace. [Y/n] couldn't help but wince at the sight of the object that had fallen on Ace.

'Wtf bro is that a fucking cauldron.....?'

One question rang through each of their heads.....how did this guy not break his back?

"Ah ha ha ha ha! Look, [Y/n], look!-" Grim cackled as he pointed to Ace on the floor. "That Ace guy got crushed beneath a giant cauldron! It squashed him flat! Aha ha ha! That's what you get!" He stated completely unconcerned that, it could have broken his back.

'Never back down, never what.....'

"A cauldron?! I wasn't expecting that. I may have overdone it this time..." The stranger was clearly shocked at what he had manifested with his magic at the moment of panic.

"Well, we weren't either." mumbled Yuu under his breath.

As Ace sat up with great pain, his face grimaced and he shouted out in pain. "Owwww! What are you bothering me for? You guys coulda just banged out the work yourself!"

"You did this to yourself, you must face the consequences." [Y/n] said sternly ignoring any whines of pain Ace made.

"There's no "banging out" a hundred windows!" Yuu exclaimed, backing up her statement.

"So why do you have to wash a hundred windows as punishment? What the heck did you do?!? asked Deuce in a concerned voice. 

"So basically-" 

"I was just screwing with that furball a little." Side-eyeing Grim meticulously. "...Okay, and the statue of the Queen of Hearts got a teeny bit charred. Sue me." Ace stated cutting of Yuu once again.

'How many times is the poor boy going to get interrupted....'

Yuu, disheartened at the interruption, had sadness etched on his face. [Y/n] being a nice person she patted his shoulders to make him feel better.

"You charred and set fire on one of the statues of the great seven!??" exclaimed the boy in pure horror. " No wonder he flew off the handle at you!"

"Oh, shut up." yelled Ace angriliy and really annoyed with the boy. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Deuce. Deuce Spade." Said the boy glancing at Ace with a questioning gaze. "Don't you remember your own classmate?"

"You don't remember my name either, do you?" Ace started smirking at the fact that even Deuce did not know his name.

"That's not the point!" Deuce yelled at Ace, flustered at his question. "You shouldn't try to shirk an order from the headmage!"

"Okay- So since we're all introducing ourselves-" Yuu said smiling at Deuce. "-my name's Enma Yuuken, but you can call me Yuu."

"Ah! I'm [Y/n], by the way!" 

"Yeah, yeah, message received... Fine, let's bang out the windows already. Huh...?" Ace scoffed as he turned around to look at us.

'Uh, oh......where the hell is Grim????'

"The furball! He's gone!"

"Ah ha ha ha! I'll let you three handle the rest! See ya, suckers!" exclaimed Grim before running again.

"Didn't we just get Ace to listen!" exclaimed Yuu in annoyance. "Grim, come back here now!" 

'What in the fucking tom and jerry is this....'

"You caught me so YOU could run away yourself?!" Ace said clearly annoyed at the running Grim. "Hey uh- Juice!"

"It's Deuce! With a D!" yelled ast Ace. "It's not Juice!"

"This is partially your responsibility, you know!" he screamed at Deuce while running. "So help me catch that little furball!"

"Why is it my responsibility!??"

"Oh just run Deuce!" Yuu exclaimed, clearly irritated.

"Grim's useless janitor friend can't use magic-"

"Oh but you haven't seen me run-" exclaimed [Y/n] before speeding up and running faster than she ever could leaving the three in the dust.

Yuu, Deuce, and Ace, shocked at the girl's speed, tried to follow her matching her speed but failed at their attempts.

Grim was up ahead running to get out of trouble but as he started to slow down he heard increasing footsteps behind him. He was not prepared for what he saw next.

A furious [Y/n] sprinting across the hallway towards him at great speeds. He then once again turned around and ran. He was totally not ready for this. Behind both of the trio were also running, trying to gain enough momentum and speed to reach them.

As they reached the cafeteria, Grim somehow climbed up the chandelier above the cafeteria to find solace from the 4 humans.

As all of them gathered around the bottom , [Y/n] couldn't help but scream in annoyance at the arrogance Grim was showing.

"GRIM ENOUGH WITH THIS NONSENSE!" Shrieked [y/n] shocking the people around her. "GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

"How about we think of some ideas to get him down from there." Yuu said trying to calm the situation down.

"What could I summon to hold onto him...?" pondered Deuce as he put his hands below his chin. "Hmmm... Oh! That's it!"

"Did you come up with somethi- Oh, hey!" Squeaked Ace in surprise as he saw what Deuce was doing. "Stop! What are you doing?! Why are you pointing your pen at me?!" Yelled in panic.

"Hey Deuce let's calm down and not do something reckless- '' [Y/n] said, getting in between the pen and Ace.

"I'm going to launch you." stated Deuce calmly as he pushed [Y/n] aside with a small shove, aiming once again at Ace.

"Bwaaah! Put me down!" screeched Ace as he started to float mid-air as Deuce got ready to launch him. "Deuce plan Abort! ABORT!"

"I've got him in my sights, and... Go!" completely ignoring Ace's pleas he launched him towards the chandelier at great speeds. 

"BWAAAAAAAH!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

*BOOM*

.

.

.

.

.

.

The three below the chandelier watched in horror as the magnificent chandelier fell from the top of the roof towards them. In panic they spread out quickly away from its landing spot and hid behind anything they could find. As they looked back they saw the chandelier fall down in front of them with fear reflecting in their eyes. 

'I can't believe that just happened.....'

"ACE, GRIM!" Both [Y/n] and Yuu ran forwards in to the wreckage to get the two out of the debris. Leaving Deuce to flounder at the scene like a fish.

"Deuce! How could you be so stupid!" exclaimed Yuu trying to pull Ace out of the Debris.

"I cannot believe you just did that!" grumbled Ace as he got pulled out by Yuu. "You could have killed us!"

"Myaaah..." Grim mumbled as [Y/n] pulled Grim from the debris and in to her arms. Then he fainted.

" I probably should have come up with a way to soften your landing" stated Deuce uncaringly.

Ace suddenly got up and dash toward Deuce grabbing Deuce's collar. "You complete and total moron!" Ace screamed in Deuce's face. "We got Grim, but we broke the chandelier! If the headmage finds out about this-"

Suddenly Crowley out of nowhere appeared in the room. "If I find out about... what, dear Ace?"

"Gah! Headmaster Crowley!" Gasped Yuu in disbelief.

"You children again!" Crowley exclaimed as he saw the wreckage created by the group of students. "What did you do?"

"So uhh basically-" Yuu started to speak but was shut down by [Y/n]

"We broke the chandelier"

'I am so sorry Yuu-'

"I can see that but how???" exclaimed Crowley in displeasure. "I can't believe you did this! Burning a statue wasn't enough for you? Now you've destroyed a chandelier?!"

They all synchronized their voices as they said. "We are so sorry-"

Then Crowley dropped the bomb. "You all are expelled."

"EXPELLED?!!!" Both Ace and Deuce screeched in disbelief.

"Headmage, please!" pleaded Deuce as Crowley looked at him with pity. "Give me a second chance! I can't get expelled from this school!"

'I kinda feel sorry for him...' thought [y/n] as she saw the scene displayed before her.

"Then blame yourself for your own foolish behavior." Crowley replied unsympathetically.

"Sir! We'll try to pay for the expenses sir pls!"

"This chandelier is made of magic, created by a legendary artificer." stated crowley in a stern voice. "Its candles are powered by a magical energy source, enchanted so that they will burn for eternity."

“How much would it cost then?” Yuu asked with curiosity and impatience.

“A Billion Thaumarks.” stated Crowley

“A BILLION THAUMARKS?!” screamed Deuce. He looked as if someone showed him his worst nightmare…….you know what? This probably is his worst nightmare.

“Sir, will you not be able to fix it, sir?” Asked Ace with hope in his tone.

"I'm afraid I can't do that young man.." said Crowley. "Even magic has its limits." 

‘This world is so freaky af.’

"A magestone cannot easily be replaced. I fear the candles of this majestic chandelier will never burn again."

"This is bad...." Ace mumbled under his breath, but it was loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"No Ace this is really bad!" Yuu exclaimed.

"What am I going to do?! How am I going to tell my mother...?" Deuce looked like he was punched in the gut by an elephant. His expression looked so grave, it looked like he just came from a funeral. Bro is not having a good day.

"Ah...! But there may be on way."

"Really!" exclaimed the group of students altogether.

"The magestone that powered this chandelier was mined from the Dwarfs' Mine," said Crowley. "If you get the stone with the same properties, we might be able to fix it."

"Sir if I with your permission, can go to the dwarf's mine?" Deuce asked sincerely ready to face the consequences.

"Me too sir!" Ace followed Deuces lead.

"Me three" So did Yuu.

"I guess me too....." Then grudgingly so did [Y/n].

"I must warn you it is highly likely that the magestones have already been mined a long time ago." stated the headmage waiting for their reactions.

"I will do anything to avoid expulsion, sir!" Deuce exclaimed, as everyone nodded at his statement.

"Hmmm... Very well, then. I will suspend your expulsion for a single night."

"Thank you very much sir!" said the group in synchronization.

As the Headmage heard their 'Thank you's' he left the cafeteria in a hurry. Before leaving fully he screamed to them "You should be able to reach the Dwarfs' Mine instantly by using one of the gates in the Mirror Chamber." and slammed the doors behind him as he left with flare.

"Yes sir!"

Then grim woke up from his little nap due to the loud noise made by the door. "Myah! Wh-? Where am I?!"

"Hah.....let's go guys we don't want to get expelled....." Yuu commanded in a tired tone.

Ace rubbed his head in annoyance. "Maaan... How did I end up in this mess? I swear, I have the worst luck."

"Dude look at my luck....I just wanted to get to class." mumbled [Y/n]. 

"We don't have time to complain. Let's go. Dark Mirror! Take us to the Dwarfs' Mine!" Deuce exclaimed with enthusiasm getting ready to walk out the door.

'I choose the worst time to come to this school....'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

Hi guys! Sorry for the delay I had like 30 writers blocks on Thursday and had no idea what to write.

Hope you guys like this chapter! Have a nice day or night.

[shinjisdone]

Ticking Springs

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

capitolo tre

capitolo quattro

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei: is here

Capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

Capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag List:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occure in time, also I am running out of pictures of P he looks the same in every pic (but prettily so) and so im gonna end up using the uh same ones prbly

[TW for this one specifically include: Demeaning uncle Geppetto, mentions of grief, signs of overworking mentioned, blood, wounds and crying, anxiety, puppet going aray]

[Also, I am gonna be like that and mention that I would not mind any comments or reblogs! This series is definitely gonna have short chapters and is currently building up settings but there's gonna be good ol yandere Pinocchio tailing after you like a puppy afterwards, no worries!]

The wrench bent on contact with the floor.

It was mere and old wood but the throw was aggressive enough to leave the tool useless. It was one of many. One he could easily snatch from the Workshop Union from.

Damn these halfwits.

He was not expecting a call from them. They were just as naive and cocky as the Workshop Union, and their glorious, genius breakthroughs.

With a grunt he picked up the tool before carelessly throwing it into a metal bucket. One on the far right corner and one far too familiar.

A heavy and frustrated sigh escaped him.

"Oh, son," Removing one glove, his fingers ran down his sweaty face, "It's always the same with them." Just as briskly as he sat down, Geppetto got up from the chair just as fast. His voice tired but still holding onto bitterness. "Stealing my time meant for you."

Brown eyes tiredly wandered up the motionless figure sitting on the blood-red armchair. The fabric untouched while surrounded by tools and oil, material that fell off shelves left on the floor. The pads were full and soft, so heavenly soft as it seemed - only the best for him even if he was not awake yet. Nevertheless, the sight irked him, from the unfinished touches of the skin up to the missing arm. It couldn't be any arm and so Geppetto had to wait and wait and wait for the material to be stocked again and again.

Progress was thriving at top speed but it didn't seem like that to him. All was too slow. Everybody was too tardy.

The flick of the light was fast but reluctant and as he looked outside, a scoff escaped him. Another long, long night but a dry one at that at least. Krat's cloudless nightsky the only relief he could feel.

Eyes mustered the nervous smile on your lips. Shoulders up to your ears and a little list in your hands - the man's hand absent-mindedly went to his mustache as he offered a smile to the lady before his eyes met yours again. With a nod, you were the next one in line.

The man rose his eyebrows and tilted his melon hat for a moment. You briefly scanned the list in your hands. "Baby blue fabric...made out of cotton, please?" "We certainly have that." Answered the man, "How long? Width and thickness?"

"Oh," You gave the measurements written on the paper and the clerk gestured you to follow. His other hand pointed on the hallway to the left. "Cherry." You turned your head as you tried to keep up, only to see a short puppet appear from the hallway, wearing the same melon hat as the man - only with a small ribbon at the side. Leading you to the back and taking out a roll of the cloth you requested, the man first showed it to you. 'Cherry' in the meantime rose its two hands, which consisted of a scissor and a measuring tape. Yet the clerk stopped it, before looking back to you. "I will let you know, young lady...100% cotton is expensive and we at Tailorshop Cherry never deliver anything other than superb quality."

He could see the hesitance in your face and took another roll of the wall. "60% cotton. Here, feel it." So you do, fingers gliding over the different fabric and as your eyes dart between the two rolls. The clerk eyed you with raised brows and it was almost like the puppet did, too.

You sucked in air. "...Perhaps 100% cotton would be better?" Making a face, the man sucked in air himself. "Can you even afford this, young lady?" He rolled the cloth up, "The measures you request for seem like that of an toddler. I've had...gentlemen pay the same sum to ask for their darlings hand."

"It's fine!"

"It is fine..." You repeated softer, "I am aware that this tailor is known for its quality...but I do know what I want." You pointed at the blue cloth. "This one would be just perfect."

The consequences were clear to you...but finances were the least of your worries. Your eyes throughouly stared at the roll, before looking up at the man and nodding your head firmly once more. Maybe you were too dead set on doing this and all of this might bite you later...it all depended on your uncle. Just musing about it made you deflate a bit. Perhaps it is the age, the stress, the work...but he has been more agitated since you last saw him - before your visit, before you moved here.

Or perhaps it was grief.

Eyes glanced to the side before looking back. "Well then, here you go." Feigning a smile, you took the package, one as big as your torso. You didn't like to think about it. "Cherry will stamp you a card. At the third purchase, 15% off!" It was too long ago. Or not, maybe even. "Thank you for purchasing from Tailorshop Cherry!" The puppet's hand brought out a stamp, punching a cherry-shaped hole on the pink card. It's voice softer and higher than that of the baker. You smiled and bowed before leaving.

Distracting oneself is easy. Either with your own life or with puppets.

A shaky gasp escaped you before the shrill echoes of inserructions neared. Your knees fell to the floor, the card long abandonded on the sullied ground as you clenched your hand to your chest with a high scream. The nearby customers congegrated around you but the salesman was quick to be the first one knelled at your side. Your ears felt about to burst - from the sounds of your crying to the panic of the people and the non-stop imploration of the man. The puppet seemed to speak, somewhere in the shop, for the first time since you entered.

"15% off!"

"15% off!"

"15% off!"

You cried and hissed as the shopkeep forcefully took your hand away from your grasp. Though he begged and begged to at least see, you were sure as hell from the pain that there was too much blood.

Somehow, somewhere feet scrambled and you heard sirens soon after. Before anyone could barge through the door, the man held you by the shoulders as he and others tried to stop the bleeding - begging and begging to not utter the name Tailorshop Cherry.

The sound of stomping in the air as well as revolted murmurs resounded still.

"15% off!"

The stitches and bandages were done with. A woman offered you a handkerchief to dry your tears. Though it was all awfully sweet, the mention of having been lucky that the puppet's clutches did not move any closer to your bone was one you immediately tried to force out of your head.

The card was left there on the shopfloor, its cherry pink color tainted red.

Jumping, you halted before your feet stepped on another pair. The door threw itself shut harsher and louder than anticipated and trying to save face, you quickly stepped to the side. Geppetto continued where he was left off - putting on his coat.

He glimpsed at you from the side, back hunched as he let one arm crawl into the sleeve as he did the other. You bit your lip and avoided his gaze before taking a step back. The wind picked up by the time you came back to the workshop and howled against the door. It creaked slightly.

The older man reached for his hat, "And where were you, young lady?" Finally he fully turned to you, though his eyes were still narrowed. "Out." You quickly but meekly let out and played with a loose wrapping end of the package. "As I told you, Uncle."

"I wasn't aware you'd be out this long." He looked for an umbrella, just in case, but kept his tone flat while speaking. "I don't like it when you are out for that long. Especially as such a young girl as yourself."

"I," You licked your lips after the small stutter, "I wanted to get back by dinner." "Dinner." Geppetto sighed, "Oh. Right, dinner." His hectic movements halted; before he began to button up his coat calmly. Eyes scanned the hallway and turned to you. "Be a dear and order food. Sandwiches or, or pasta. No, actually get something that can be eaten cold." You took a step closer, "Won't you have a bite before you leave? It's late and I am sure you're hungry. Besides, the weather's getting awful."

"The better it is that I leave now." Taking a small, old umbrella he finally found, Geppetto opened the door and took a step outside - but not before looking at you. "Order some food, dear, I'll be sure to enjoy it after I come back. And..." Brown eyes narrowed as he slightly leaned closer. The man scrunched up his nose.

"What happened to you, (Name)?" His eyes flickered to your limp hand. You mimicked his movements but tried to hide the bandaged hand under the parcel anyway.

"...Uncle, today afternoon..."

"Ah, you are fine though now, aren't you?" Geppetto failed to see the frown on your face the moment he mentioned the injury. Instead, he patted his collar down. "We'll talk about this later but this is what happens to children staying out after dark. You don't see how you get hurt."

Again, you tried to gather courage to speak your mind, just a word, a mere objection to his ridicilous and childish assumptions-

"...Go to bed early, (Name). You already have a few dark circles under your eyes, unbecoming of a young lady."

The door was shut close. A strong gale blew into the workshop briefly, leaving a shudder down your spine.

The frown stayed on your face. Still, the parcel had to be stored into your room sooner or later, and it was best done sooner judging from your uncle's mood. Adjusting your grip, as it started to slip out of your clutch, you slowly went up the stairs while having a hard time taking your eyes off the door.

Eyes stayed trained on the needle and the fabric, as well as your fingers, as the sewing machine diligently worked away. Although you held both machinery and fabric rather awkwardly with the side of your hand, the sure progress melted your sadness away, bit by bit.

Your wallet may have not suffered today for you got the fabric graciously for free, but your limb surely did.

The puppet did not really puncture your thumb, the emergency responder said. Still, the injury was deep enough to be treated with stitches and bandages...and a few painkillers, possibly. It kept you on wiping your tears.

The mechanical cadence would stop as you shift and lay the fabric in different directions, cut off unneeded material while avoiding to accidentally stab out your own eyes with the scissor whenever you rubbed them. The experience today was scary enough but despite it, you did not want to stop now.

Forcing yourself to take one more sip of your drink, you cleared your throat. Eyelids feeling heavier.

A puppet wasn't supposed to do that.

No puppet was ever meant to harm another, human or mechanical fellow alike. Even if it was a mere accident - this 'Cherry' should have sensed your flesh being too close to its brackets and it not having targeted the card correctly.

On top of that, echoing its master's words like a madman if you recalled right.

Uncle Geppetto had to know. Even if he would still be too busy to listen, you'd have to let him know.

"...I know you..."

You frowned as the machine begun again. Your voice barely reached the same volume as this old thing...neither did your sniffles.

"...I don't feeling like singing that one." Mumbles reaching no one but yourself. Once again, you sniffled and cleared your throat, focusing on the task at hand.

"...When you wish upon a star..."

Lone words entered the lone room. Sitting up straighter made you feel more focused, more awake. Here, in the moment and aware that this trivial task meant change for you.

"...Makes no difference who you are..."

The machine continued flawlessly despite its age. You even found yourself singing while it conducted its own cadence, no matter if both tunes melodically weaved in together or not.

It was about the feeling. About the action.

It was about being heard even if your only audience was yourself.

Yet it was not. It never was.

"...Anything your heart desires..."

Behind the many walls, down the turning and winding stairs and straight through the locked door, were sounds emitting and attempting to mimick your own.

The rattling was resounding from the underground and offering its own melody in hopes it will join and align with yours.

Though it sung in high and longing tunes when picking up the sound of your sniffles.

Naive, little thing that you were, you did not hear it over your own whimsical fantasies.

"...Will come to you..."

[star-writr]

hi could you do 10th doctor x reader, where reader and the doctor are on an adventure and meet a weeping angel but reader gets captured by one then the doctor saves the reader and in the end they kiss (lots of nonsense please)

Angel's Touch

It was supposed to be a normal day. You had even gone grocery shopping. "No oddities today", you had told the Doctor. For once, you had convinced him to take a break and stay in your apartment on Earth a little while. But you should've known. Wherever the Doctor went, chaos followed.

The Angels had been weirdly kind to you, if you could even call that kindness. At least you were alive. Figures of stone had scooped you up and thrown you into another time period, but at least you were still breathing. Quite the consolation.

Of course the Doctor had discovered (and messed with) an entire horde of Weeping Angels. That morning he had gone for a walk after breakfast and had returned in a hurry to lock every door leading to your apartment. Before even being able to wonder what that was all about, the Angels had already found a way inside.

You wondered how far you had gone. The Doctor had told you about his encounters with the Weeping Angels, so you knew what they did to their victims. What you couldn't grasp was how the Doctor would've saved you.

You looked around. It was nighttime, and moths danced around street lamps. You were sitting on a wooden bench. In front of you a brick road separated the sidewalk from a row of english-looking houses with black wooden pillars and white exteriors. Inside, no lights were on. It was probably very late.

You held your head between your hands helplessly. "How am I going to get out of this mess?" you sighed.

In a different time, the Doctor had just seen you disappear leaving no trace. The Angel that had been lurking behind you had touched your back with a single finger, no emotions plastered onto its stone face, and now stood motionless, the Doctor's eyes locked onto it. The Weeping Angels were probably some of the most dangerous species out there. The Doctor had dealt with them already; and yet he had been stupid enough to lead them right to you.

The Time Lord didn't hesitate to run straight for the TARDIS. The Angels creeped up behind him, but he was luckily fast enough to reach his spaceship – which the Doctor had parked right across your apartment complex, fortunately – unharmed. He immediately started to scan the area.

"Nine, ten, eleven... no, no, it's ten, there's ten of them. Damn it." The red dots on the interface blinked, getting closer to the Doctor's location. The Time Lord cursed out loud.

The TARDIS shook as if something was banging on its doors. The Angels were probably trying to get inside.

"You idiots. Don't you know this is a time machine?" the Doctor grumbled to himself, setting up a new course to exactly five seconds back in time and five meters to the left. Weeping Angels usually hunted in very small groups, and the Doctor assumed them to be quite hungry since there were so many of them. And, when Angels were hungry, they were vulnerable.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors in time to see the other TARDIS – the one from five seconds before – disappearing. The Angels were all gathered around the machine, and remained motionless as it disappeared.

"I hope you like paradoxes", the Time Lord smirked, keeping his eyes on the statues, "because you just witnessed one." He felt quite proud of himself. "Now, let's get down to business."

You witnessed the sunrise, still sitting on the bench, the breeze whiffing past you, before seeing anyone. A paperboy rode past you, throwing a newspaper for each front door he saw. After ringing his bell at you, he took a turn and disappeared.

You stood up and made your way to one of the houses, picking up the paper. You were in London. It was 1982, and it was a Thursday. "Not that far back, then" you told yourself, still not entirely relieved. It had been hours and the Doctor was still nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to send him a message, but didn't have your mobile, so it was pretty much impossible. You wanted to smash your head against a wall. Next time the Doctor asked to go for a walk, you would've put him on a leash.

The Doctor burned his hand for the second time that day. Building something impromptu like that was tricky enough without Weeping Angels shaking the TARDIS so aggressively. With every screw, gear and wire in its right place, finally, the Doctor huffed. "All done. Let's just hope they send me to the same time as them." With that said, the Time Lord opened up the doors of the spaceship, closed them behind him, shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

The Doctor only felt the feather-light touch of the Angels, then a cold breeze on his skin. Opening his eyes, the sight which greeted him was of an english-looking neighborhood that had just seen the sun rise above its tiled rooftops. Judging by the architecture and the cars in the distance, the Doctor deducted it was the '80s.

The silence didn't last long. As soon as the Time Lord filled his lungs up with air, ready to start looking for you, an "oi!" and a smack on the back of his head made him turn around just in time to see you, standing with your arms crossed and a furrowed brow.

"Here you are!" exclaimed the Doctor, hugging you. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have led them to your place. I should've known," he apologized. Even if you had been mad at him up until that point, it didn't cross your mind to let him know, and just hugged him tight.

"I missed you," you blurted out.

"Why, it's only been a few minutes, thirty at most. Right?"

Your eyes caught his. "More like a few hours for me."

"Oh." The Time Lord bit his lip with an ashamed expression. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you told him. "I only got a bit bored, but nothing happened."

The Doctor worried even more. "Bored? Boredom is the cruelest thing there is! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." He held you close, almost cradling you, your bodies swinging from side to side. "Doctor, it's fine," you protested, giggling a bit.

"No, it's not! I invite people into my TARDIS to escape boredom, not face it."

"Wait, wait." You looked the Doctor in the eye. "I've been meaning to ask. Where is the TARDIS?"

At that, the Time Lord grinned widely. "Right, almost forgot about that. It'll only take a mo." He extracted an odd gadget from his left pocked and scanned it with his sonic.

"What's that?" you asked.

"It's rushed," he replied, "but it's supposed to do... this."

The familiar sound of the TARDIS landing filled the air, and the blue box appeared in front of the two of you.

"Auto-pilot!" The Doctor explained. "It's not as fun, but I guess it's helpful for not getting stuck."

Your mouth was agape. "Did you have that on you the entire time?"

"Nope. Just built it. It's only a prototype. Well, maybe. It probably only works once."

The gadget produced a few sparks, startling both of you.

"Forget the 'probably' bit," you laughed. The Doctor frowned, looking disappointed. "Bugger", he sighed.

"Don't look so sad. At least it worked," you reassured him, patting his shoulder. He looked at you with puppy eyes.

"You could always put together another one, no?" you asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same. I built this one for you," he confessed.

You were confused. "I already have the TARDIS key," you said.

"It's not the same. The key only opens the TARDIS, it doesn't summon it."

"Oh, Doctor..." you smiled fondly. "You would seriously give that to me?"

"Who else?" he murmured. You blushed. "Come here", you said. As the Doctor came closer, you cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips.

"Thank you", you whispered. Still flustered, the Time Lord's lips curved upwards.

"Hey", he grinned, "wanna get rid of those Angels in your neighborhood and get coffee afterwards?"

"You know me so well it scares me", you joked, placing another kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's do it."

[sasster]

Civil Matters

I guess that’s that then, huh? [doc] —

Very few trolls can attest to having seen The Restorer outside of the grounds that his safe haven of a city occupies in the many hundreds of sweeps since the passing of his predecessor. If asked after it, he might say there is simply no reason to exert any power over the remainder of his region; they have always more or less followed the norms of the area immediate to the church and its surroundings. Even fewer trolls have seen him move with any more passion than his typically relaxed gait, if his very recent worrying after his son went uncounted.

All of this nonsense feels to him as though it somehow started seconds ago and has been going on for many many sweeps at the same time. Whenever it started, he would like to see it end now, a thought that might have lent itself to why he moves with such swiftness behind enemy lines.

When he enters the Church of the Divine Dreamer, the yellow blooded priest falls short mid-sentence. His wings twitch, and Ailzea supposes that he is in search of the right thing to say in the face of their territory’s overseeing purple blood deciding on a surprise visit. Behind the frozen priest, the Goddess he preaches in the name of tilts her head at the sight of the newcomer.

Then she smiles.

The gathered congregants' heads turn to catch sight of the disruption.

“Father Restorer! Will you be joining us for service this evening?” She asks brightly as her brother bristles.

Ailzea nods his head. “Please forgive my tardiness. It is quite a bit out of the way from my own home.” He says and then takes a seat at the back.

Promptly, the attention of the congregation returns to the priest at the pulpit, whose visible eye darts wildly between them and someone unseen at the other end of it.

The godling closes her eyes and settles back in, while her brother clears his throat, taking a moment to recalibrate his thinking and relocate his center. He begins to move again, there is something familiar about the way he carries himself that fills the Restorer’s mind with a weight that he is uncomfortable with carrying.

Cylion suddenly smiles.

“Yes, thank you for joining us, Father Roatus! It is truly an honor to have you.” Clearly not one to let an opportunity slip through his claws, the yellow blood places those same hands down onto the lectern with gusto, and sweeps his gaze over the crowd in a manner that suggests hunger. He practically laps up their attention. “In times of uncertainty, even other religious leaders make the time to visit our Dreamer.” A quiet murmuring starts to spread among the congregation, from what Ailzea listens in on there is a range of reaction in the small gathering that ranges from doubt to astonishment. To him it seems that Cylion really grew into the perfect little priest that Ailzea’s own predecessor looked for within him. At least someone came to learn from the brute. A shame about everyone catching strays as a result of that learning.

“The dream world that you know of is a bridge between the divine and mortal worlds,” he continues, explaining what must be an introduction to the religion for new comers. There is a nervous edge to his movement as he gestures to the furnishings and decorations that resemble or allude to Nymira within the chamber. “And our Dreamer is a gift from the Divine, sent here to show us and teach in its name the ways we can become closer to it…”

Behind him the Goddess sits motionless, save for the swaying of her tail fanned out behind her. What a massive undertaking for such a young troll. The pair of them must be under tremendous stress.  Trollkind was never meant for the burdens of godhood, but damn do they keep trying.

Cylion continues to ramble on in his indoctrination and Ailzea finds himself drawn to the artwork of the young Goddess, allowing the light blues and dreamlike qualities of the pieces pull him away from the sermon. It is a wonder she doesn’t feel completely smothered with all of this attention, that the only pressure she claims to feel presently is the way her brother has started to behave.

He will not get a better understanding of the situation until the three of them sit down for a real conversation. Four if Favion chooses civility. Ailzea is unsure that it’s something he is capable of these days, however. A conversation to have with Weaver when this has all ended.

There is a sudden, almost flighty, tap on his shoulder that serves as a welcome interruption from the thought of his old friend’s descent into madness, and he turns to give his full attention to that disruption. He trades the view of beautiful artwork, depicting scenes of the whimsical and fantastical, for an uneasy looking troll with a bowl cut. Arkiro would find that juxtaposition hilarious.

“Can you come with me?” The disruption mumbles under the priest's lecture, and Ailzea can’t tell if those pupil-less eyes are on him or the speaker at the far front.

He casts a look to the Dreamer before he responds. Nymira gives him an encouraging smile. Somehow, despite the circumstances, she still believes her brothers operate on goodwill. He nods and stands to follow the troll that stands in front of him.

They walk until they reach a part of the compound that seems a bit more residential, their slice of land surely impressive and no doubt a result of Favion’s masterful use of manipulation tactics when he’s in his best mind. 

“Cylion will speak to you in here,” the troll with the bowl cut says as he leads him into a dining area flanked by two closed bedroom doors. It is all he’s said the entire trip. “In the name of privacy.” He explains.

“I understand. Thank you.”

Then his escort moves to exit the way they entered, but Ailzea speaks again before he can get very far. “Will the elder Lefera be joining us as well? 

He freezes in the doorway and seems to wince or shudder at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ll,” a pause. “I’ll check on that for you.”

A curious response, but not one the Restorer can fault him for.

Favion is not a troll to be invoked lightly.

Some time passes before the young priest finds his way to the room that Ailzea waits for him in. In that time, Ailzea has found himself regretting not bringing something with which to keep his hands and mind busy. Though he dares not craft under that savage of a man’s roof. The ghost of a horrible memory looms somewhere in the back of his mind. He sighs it away.

Cylion enters the room briskly, already having tugged the collar out from his shirt, the sunflower from his eye, holding each in his hand as he pulls the rest of his ceremonial garb up over his head to reveal a tanktop underneath. The ceremonial clothes seems to Ailzea to hide much of the bulk of the yellow blood’s wings, but his under shirt allows him the freedom to stretch them out. Which he does.

He discards his accessories on a counter on his way to where the Restorer sits. Finally, he gives him his full attention.

The eye contact fills Ailzea’s head with an uncomfortably pregnant fog.

“Father will not be joining us.” He asserts.

It must be that he is over the original shock of the Restorer’s presence enough for the coolness of his facade to have taken root again. Something tells him that it was in the name of that facade that he was sent away in the middle of the sermon.

“I am afraid my visit largely concerns your father and his recent behavior, regarding my children and otherwise. I would like him to be in attendance.”

Cylion’s nose nearly scrunches, almost twisting his face up at the mention of children, but he stops himself partway through. Ailzea imagines the protest of Marrie as a child dying on the tongue he sucks against his teeth.

Cool neutrality returns to his face. “We are deeply sorry for that–”

“Favion will join us. Nymira as well.” There is a level of force alien to even Ailzea that the words leave his mouth with. “Please.” He amends.

The younger priest’s mouth clamps shut with an audible clacking of his teeth, clearly unused to his authority being challenged. “Father is unwell. And Nymira must rest.”

“Cylion. I am no longer asking.”

Something familiar that isn’t forcibly repressed in the Restorer’s mind bubbles behind Cylion’s eye and just below the surface of his features. Ailzea’d seen that look long ago, hundreds of times, just before Favion would do something reprehensible.  The expression passes over the younger Lefera like a ghost.

At least he has some level of self control.

“Of course.” He grits, takes a moment to step away to give the instruction to Bowl Cut at the door, and returns to sit near the Grand High Blood finally tossing his weight around. “It would be easier with me.”

“I am not looking for easy. I am looking for finished.”

Cylion shakes his head and averts his gaze to his own perfectly manicured nails, tongue sucking against his teeth again. “You’re as stubborn as Archie.”

–

Nymira arrives first, also changed into clothing designed more in the name of comfort than presentation. She practically floats ahead of Bowl Cut as they enter.

The two yellow bloods exchange an indecipherable look as the godling crosses all the way to the side of the table the Restorer sits at.

“I’m so happy you made it, Father Restorer!” Her enthusiasm as palpable as one brother's dread and the other’s anger. “Did you enjoy the service?”

“I did, thank you for having me.” He looks at the brothers for a brief moment and then returns his attention to her. “I have been thinking about our conversation, my child. How does some time away from home sound to you?”

The silence that wraps itself around the room as the question leaves his mouth is as thick and impenetrable as the block that prevents Ailzea from properly focusing on the winged yellow blood.

“She can’t just–”

“I will not force you,” Ailzea continues once Cylion’s bewildered, close to the tipping point, voice pierces through the blanket of silence. “However, there is a space for you within my walls should you choose to take me up on that offer.”

Nymira stares back at him with eyes wide and shaking, bright shimmering pools of black that could suck him in with her desire if he wasn’t careful. She chews on the idea, her gaze shifting from the elder priest to the younger, then back again.

“Nymira-” Cylion’s protest is quelled as quickly as it starts by a wave of Ailzea’s hand.

The Goddess fidgets.

“Father Restorer,” her voice catches and he waits for her to find her balance. She chances a glance at her brother, he stares back as though he means to bend her to his will with his mind. She shrinks. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I trust that your brothers will handle business while you are away.”

Now it is Ailzea’s turn to put the full brunt of his attention on Cylion, the younger priest does not flinch in the face of it, a stormy look taking hold of his own features. Both sets of wings flare and fold in on themselves in time with the breathing he fights hard to regulate.

Cylion exhales hard through his nose.

“Father Roatus,” he begins, silver tongue searching for a line to pull. “There are people here that rely on her here. She can’t be taken from her people.”

“That is a decision she will make when she has had her rest, should she choose to take my offer.”

Cylion opens his mouth to respond, but he pauses. His attention is somewhere else, brought toward the entrance to the room, by the sound of a low thud that spills into it. All eyes fall on Favion as he crouches into the doorway.

Immediately the elder Lefera’s attention is grabbed by the sight of Ailzea.

He breaks into an uneven grin.

“Favion,” Ailzea acknowledges him with a nod. “We were just discussing Nymira’s break from her duties.”

The hulk of a yellow blood stops just beyond the threshold and grips the doorframe, he works his jaw for a moment. Then he speaks.

“Interesting proposal,” he gravels, the words struggling through a rock tumbler before falling out of his mouth. “My sprout stays here.”

“It is not a request.” Ailzea asserts as he stands up.

A rattle of a growl shakes loose in the beast's chest, Cylion and his brother look between each other, Nymira takes a step behind the Restorer.

“Favion, I only asked you here so that your children are not made to explain to you what has occurred.” The Restorer turns his attention to the godling and nods again in her direction. “The decision is hers.”

There is a sharp snap, and a crack begins to form along the door frame from beneath Favion’s massive claw, then another silence descends on the group. The silence vies for dominance over the new wave of tense atmosphere that smothers them. Nymira says nothing, shrinking from her father and closer to the purple priest when he lets loose another growl and steps further into the room. This time the growl is punctuated by the sound of his teeth grinding together.

Cylion’s anger looks right at home on his father’s face.

Beyond the ferocity, Ailzea finds something else mixed into it. Something that he cannot place.

Not on Favion’s face, anyway, the way his lips always twisted into a fierce snarl ready to rip someone apart. Beyond that, there was something soft. A tenderness.

Love. He thinks. For his daughter.

And here she was hiding away from him.

“Nymira?” Ailzea asks softly, tearing his attention away from the hulk. “What do you say?”

“I would like to go with you.” She responds in a voice meant for a mouse, unable to rip her own eyes off of her father’s threat display. “Just… For a little while.”

“Sprout,” Favion advances, enough that Ailzea can make out the age which aids the deterioration that mars the yellow giant’s face. The ghost of a fearsome sneer finds itself locked behind the gentle expression he wears like a mask to look at his daughter with. “Why?”

There is a lull, the Restorer looks from Favion to his descendant behind him. The winged troll looks furious, staring coldly at his sister, once against doing his best to control her with that steely gaze.

Ailzea turns slightly to obscure her from his view.

Nymira breathes, he feels her grab hold of his robes from behind.

“Father,” her voice wavers. “You hurt my friends and everyone was ready to lie to me about it! Cylion has been cruel and he…” She hesitates, Ailzea imagines that she might’ve brought up Little Friend but thought better of it in present company. He is grateful for this. “He let a bad man take me away! To teach me some sort of lesson. He made sure I would forget things… That his words meant more to me than my own thoughts. That’s no way to treat someone you care about!” The words rush out of her quickly, a poorly made dam coming down in the face of her flood of emotion.

Favion stands statue still, teeth grinding all the while he processes the information. It would take a moment for him to catch it all even on his best day. Behind him, Cylion cannot help the growl that thunders from his chest. Bowl Cut fidgets with the edges of his shirt.

“I just need somewhere to breathe. Please, Father.”

Ailzea speaks before the broken yellow blood finds use of his mouth again. “Go, Nymira. Gather your things.”

“Okay. Thank you Father. Thank you, too, Father Restorer.” She says breathlessly and takes the long way around to the room’s exit so she does not risk crossing the path of her explosive brother and frozen father.  Her failed prophets.

When she is safely out of the room, all compassion leaves Favion’s face. His expression twists into one of pure animosity, then his lips part into a snarl that brings Ailzea back to all of those daymares where his children are mutilated right before his eyes.

One of the brothers makes an involuntary sound.

The yellow blood advances on him, claw angled to grab him up by the horn.

Ailzea sighs.

“Favion. I have had enough of this!” Once again, the force that Ailzea manages is alien even to himself. “If you cannot behave civilly, return to your chambers!” This time his own voice rings loud in his ears, leaving behind the echoes of all the times in his youth that he’d been on the receiving end of one of his predecessor's tyrades.

He sounds just like Matere Roatus. That man’s voice on Ailzea’s tongue leaves a metallic taste behind. How many times was that line used on him, followed by the destruction of something dear to his heart?

Ailzea would never stoop so low.

When he refocuses on the scene in front of him, the beast of a troll has already fallen still. He stands in a neutral position, perhaps awaiting an order. At the same time, the pair of brothers have found themselves on the other side of the kitchen, not keen on a bath of blood if it came down to it.

“Favion, you will let her do as she wishes.”

Favion grunts, and though he appears to comply, contempt poisons his features and taints the air between them.

Cylion opens his mouth to protest, anger paints him in a grim light, but Ailzea shoots it down with a glower of his own.

“The game is done. Nymira has made her decision.”

[notroosterbradshaw]

My darling! For your fluff prompts, may I request "29. kisses in which, we've already said goodbye for the day but i can't help stealing another one" with rooster??? That one seems so perfect for him, please and thank you! (And no pressure to write this of you're not feeling it) 💜🌿

PROMPT: 29. kisses in which, we've already said goodbye for the day but i can't help stealing another one

thank you for this, my love, hope you enjoy xx

"You gotta go. You're going to get a reputation for your tardiness," you managed to sputter out, Rooster's lips on your pulse so distracting you were struggling with the words. Your fingers were lost in the short wisps of hair at the nape of his strong neck, not encouraging him at keeping his ministrations up in the slightest.

"Too late," he admitted.

"Bradley," you warned, but it certainly seemed more like a moan as he chuckled into your skin and pulled his hands away.

"Okay, okay," he left a single kiss on your lips as he pried himself away from you. "I'll go, but only because it's my duty. I'd much rather continue lovin' on you," he stood to his height, adjusting his uniform. He was such a mess, you giggled behind your hand. Thoroughly debauched, he was never sexier.

"Have a good day, and stay safe," you said, ready to roll over and go back to sleep. "Love you."

"Love you, sweetheart," he wandered out, the bed calling him - he wasn't tired, just wanted to stay as close to you as possible. He closed the bedroom door after him quietly and moved to the bathroom, giving himself the once over and running his long fingers through his unruly sunkissed wavy hair in pretence to try and look put together. His cheeks flushed, the pull to the bedroom weighing on him. Why would he want to sit in seminars and lectures in not stay in bed with you? It was a daily struggle.

Forcing himself to the kitchen, he poured his coffee from your coffee machine that did the fancy things but all he needed was black to wake himself up and get a move on. Keys, sunglasses, wallet, bag, he truly would never be a morning person, and this morning proved it.

How else did he get his callsign?

At least you made his mornings a little kinder, he always walked in with a grin after waking up beside you. He tossed his gear in the passenger side and pulled himself into the driver's seat, key toying with the engine, tapping the ignition, a slight irritation coming to him as he stared at the villa before him. And before he knew it, he was out of the Bronco, unlocked the house and coming back to the bedroom where you’d rolled into his pillow and snuggled in, back to sleep. Gentle and quiet, he was desperate to cuddle in with you. He eased himself to your side of the bed, tenderly brushing your hair from your face.

“You were supposed to be on your way by now, Bradshaw. You’ve got 200 push-ups in your plans this afternoon,” you mumbled as he chuckled and you slowly opened your eyes again. “What do you need?”

“Just you,” he admitted, giving you one more light kiss. “I love you. Just wanted to let you know,” he begrudgingly got to his feet as you made grabby hands for him.

“Don’t leave,” you begged as he chuckled and dashed back to the bed to love on you some more. Push-ups be damned, his shoulders and biceps had never looked better. He’d suffer through the long afternoon if it meant another few minutes kissing you. 

[dollhouse-lied]

Built for sin; a creepypasta (y/n) fic

Part 2

Notes: afab reader, she/her pronouns, mentions of murder, blood, sexual themes, not meant for minors!! Im not trying to catch a case!!

Enjoy :)

Laying in your bed, the absence of Jack felt cold. He had been summoned for a mission, but you felt so alone. Downstairs, people were yelling, not an uncommon occurrence but still annoying.

You dragged yourself to an upright position, sitting on the edge of your bed. Your room was in contrast to the rest of the mansion, clean and comfortable. Led lights lined the roof, turning your room a dark purple. You clicked on the lights to plain white, getting up and putting on your slippers. You felt your stomach move a bit, realizing you hadn't eaten in god knows how long. You groaned. Making food was damn near impossible in the mansion, no one ever went grocery shopping and you couldnt save food because someone else would eat it almost instantly.

You shuffled out the door, the mansions slight buzzing ambiance telling you slender was somewhere near. You had already done your job, always doing things right after you were told to avoid the punishment other proxys got for tardiness. You have had enough punishments in your life, with plenty of scars to prove it.

You plopped down the stairs, half asleep. It mustve been about two in the morning, moonlight shining into the dark living room. Ben was sitting on the couch, he and Jeff playing mario kart, the blue light of the screen illuminating their faces. That was the screaming you had heard, they had a years long rivalry and too much pride to call a truce. You walked over to the fridge, opening it and seeing that there was nothing. Not suprising.

“Hey, do either of you want to go to the store?” You called out to Ben and Jeff. You were ignored. You sighed, walking over to the boys and tapping them.

“(Y/N) what do you want, cant you see I'm busy?” Jeff groaned, not really in a mad way, but in a way that made you want to pester him, just to piss him off.

“Whens the last time you won against him anyway, just drive me to the store,” you groaned, pushing Jeff in the shoulder.

“Fuck off,” he barked, swearing as Ben passed him.

Ben laughed. “HA, suck my dick,” he mocked.

“You wish, fucking virgin,” Jeff yelled, screaming in frustration as he lost.

You pushed him in the head lightly. He whipped around to look at you. “Fuck you think your doing??” He growled.

You kept a cold face, not giving in to his tough guy persona. “Ill buy you ice cream,”

Jeff weighed the options in his head, glaring at you. You couldn't help but notice his nervous fidgeting with the controler.

“Fine, but I'm not paying for anything. Get me a mask.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, then freezing. You hadnt meant it sexually, but that seemed to be how he took it. You felt a tension you didn't know what to do about as you watched the blank expression on his face. A deep uneasy feeling was pooling in your gut, but maybe it was butterflies.. or vomit.

“Sooooo…. are you guys going?” Ben introjected, breaking the tension.

“Uhhhh….” Jeff looked at you and back at Ben. “Yeah, you want anything?”

[iris0-0]

I promise I’m here.

Mom!Tess Servopoulos x sh!daughter reader

Synopsis: Tess, your mother has always given you tough love. Trying to raise you to be respectful and grateful. Though when hard times fall upon you, you cannot seem to tell your mother as you feel she will see you as weak and pathetic.

Warnings: Tess being soft, reader is referred to in more female pronouns, blood, mentions of depression, mentions and descriptions of self harm, I do not encourage this behavior and am here for anyone <3 this is definitely not personal

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Familiar sounding music invaded the current deep sleep you were in. Eyes fluttering open, before quickly closing them due to the early morning light invading through the blinds.

The door opens and you feel a harsh pat on your back, “Cmon kid, gotta catch the bus.” Tess says, making sure you’re awake before leaving the room.

Getting up you looked at the old digital clock on the nightstand that read 6:40 a.m. Fuck. If you didn’t pick up the pace there would be another tardy slip with your name on it, and with that a scold from your mother.

Grabbing whatever pants were on the desk chair and a shirt you grab the same black zip-up jacket you took everyday…to hide the scars. Thankfully your mother Tess wasn’t very noisy as long as you didn’t give any “teenage attitude” was what she liked to call it. So she never really picked up on your habits

Self-harm wasn’t something you were proud of. It started 3 years ago when you were 13. Middle school was an absolute bitch, not to mention the other struggles that have happened in the meantime. You tried to get clean….but it never lasted long, it was a tough battle.

Slipping on the jacket and grabbing your book bag you go down the stairs to grab a banana or some shit to say you ate breakfast. Tess was brewing a cup of coffee before she herself was off to work. She eyed you up and down a bit before smirking to herself. Annoyed you give her a look that basically said ‘what?’.

“When’s the last time you washed that jacket?” She asked. “You were it practically everyday.” Walking towards you she tried to get closer to at least make sure it smelled clean, as teenagers could be lazy or dirty sometimes.

Not wanting her to move the jacket in case of any risk of exposing what was below you responded in a bantering manner to try and keep up your cool act. “Mom! Stop it! I washed it this week.” You smile dodging her grasp and walking to the door to catch the bus.

“If you say so.” She shrugs. “Go learn and shit.”

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School. Highschool sophomore to be specific. Grades weren’t that much of a problem, you were told you were ‘a smart kid’. Having average level classes and a work ethic (sometimes) helped. It wasn’t the work, it was the people.

Once again for English there was a project. Why do English teachers have a project nobody likes every week? Everyone got up and looked around to choose partners…nobody chose you. Shocker. ‘Okay, who cares? I’ll do it myself as usual.’ You thought.

But of course it wasn’t okay. Depression shuffled your mind again replaying old scenarios and listing reasons why none of the other kids wanted to work with you.

Putting headphones on and shuffling random shit, mainly tv girl you got to work and try to forget but to no avail. Taking a break in the middle to go to the bathroom.

Always keeping a blade handy you sit in the bathroom stall. ‘Why am I doing this again? Don’t really know don’t really care.’ You think.

Taking the jacket off halfway the view of the old and fresh marks come into place. It was never enough. Addicted was the word, but it’s perfectly fine isn’t it?

‘Doing what I do best.’ Sliding the blade like it was a damn hobby. Did it sting? Maybe a little but the relief was too strong, it overpowered any pain. That was, until you zoned out. Going deeper, was it intentional? Who knows.

Hitting a vein blood trickled down, quicker than the cuts before that would stop bleeding soon. There was too much. And of course depression comes with anxiety. How come you were fine mutilating yourself but the moment you got dizzy all hell broke loose. I need to get out.

Quickly thinking of an excuse out of habit you called the only person you had, your mom. Were you dying of blood loss? Hell no. But you were on the verge of passing out and eating shit on the schools bathroom floor.

The phone rang a few times.

“Please..please..please.” You mutter.

T: “Hello? Im in a meeting did you butt dial me again?” Your mom Tess says, a bit confused.

“I need you to pick me up, please.”

T: “Kid, I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She sighs, though she hears the panic in your voice. “If it means that much to ya I’ll getchu right after, in maybe half an hour?”

“Okay.” You respond swallowing your tears.

T: “You cryin kid?” She asks suddenly concerned.

“No.” You deny, and you can hear her sigh from the other end.

T: “I’ll get you in a bit.” She said sternly.

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About a half an hour passed. The bleeding was under control but you were weak as hell. Loosing blood was no joke, dizzy and nauseating to say the least. ‘I think I just lost more blood than a period.’ You thought.

A text from your mom saying she’s here and you signed out at the front office, slightly swaying in your steps as you walk the short walk from the front of the school to the car.

Tess was sitting, hand on the steering wheel. The glint from the sun shining just over the scar under her eye. You couldn’t read her face. Was she pissed about picking you up two hours into the school day and about you interrupting her meeting. Regardless you opened the car door.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing spoken and Tess nodded to the action keeping her eyes forward as she drove the two of you home.

Walking in the house Tess put up her keys. You tried to sneak upstairs. “Nope. Come back.” Tess said sternly before pointing to the couch. “Sit.”

Annoyed but not trying to test your mother, you sat your ass back down. “Tell me why I picked you up.” She asked and you just shrugged looking at the floor.

“That’s not an answer and you know it. I love you and I’m trying not to be upset with you but kid, I need to know. You called me in the middle of a meeting you knew I was in crying.” Tess said, a bit stern.

“It doesn’t even matter.” You say a bit annoyed at the persistence and not having an answer to the question that you wanted to tell her.

“Look at me.” She says, as you look straight at the ground. “I just didn’t feel good.” You say looking her in the eye, it was hard. She had the type of eyes that made you spill everything.

Staring felt like forever her eyes narrowing, until your left eye twitched. “You’re lying.” She says crossing her arms over her chest. “No I’m not.” Your eye twitches again, betraying you.

“Yes you are! Your eye is twitching like Nemo’s fucking special fin.” Tess responded. “How the hell would you even know if I was lying? You’re always gone!”

“Language! I’m gone providing for you!” The two of you yelled back and forth for ages. Slowly but surely you were growing enraged. Having bipolar disorder and anger issues Tess knew you needed to calm down before you passed out.

“Okay come on you need to calm down.” She says strictly but assuringly. Even though she was upset with the argument as well she didn’t want it to get worse with you passing out for continuing to dig your nails into your arms.

She took ahold of your shoulders and began to guide you to your room. And shortly after being alone you’d calm down and she’d come back and the two of you would talk it out.

But…that did not happen this time. As she tried to move you, you resisted. “Hey stop. Calm down.” She said trying to grab your arms as you tried to get out her reach. With the fresh cuts and the excessive deep one a whine of pain was let out.

Tess paused momentarily and debated on backing off, but she didn’t. You had been acting different and were on the verge of a panic attack.

With harsh short breaths through go your nose you knew there was nothing else you could do to hide anymore, you were too weak. “What’s hurtin’ hm?” Tess states touching your hands, shoulders, and head gently.

But when she glides over your arms you bit your lip. Razor burn was hitting hard. “Okay let’s get this off..” she mumbles slowly taking the jacket off after she sat you down on the couch.

“Oh honey…” was all Tess could say, staring at the cuts, scars, deep, and shallow. She tries to comfort you but too shaked up and overstimulated. “Okay okay.” Tess backs off, leaving for a short moment to grab the random first aid crap in the bathroom.

She comes back and cleans very carefully, trying not to upset or overstimulate you. As well as to not hurt you. “Breath baby.” She holds your face softly trying to calm you down.

After awhile the cleaning and wrapping is done. It was safe to say Tess could understand why. You had bad bipolar disorder and meltdowns. “Why didn’t you tell me hm?” She asks sitting next to you.

“Cause I didn’t want to worry you and give you more trouble cause it started when dad left and-“ You couldn’t finish beginning to sob.

She pulls you into her tightly and holds you. Quietly shh’ing you, cradling you like a baby. “I’m here I’m not going anywhere. I’m not him.”

Tess holds onto you as you fall asleep. And she’ll always be there for you.

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THIS TOOK FOREVER OVER A WEEK I GOT STUCK. Anyways happy birthday to me <3 Love you stay safe.

[honeybeeloxs]

PET FLAP

Stu Macher x Male Reader

It was initially headcanons, but I got way 2 into it... ALSO, BTW YOURE LIKE TATUM'S TWIN

SUMMARY:

No Mention of Y/N Stu invites you, Sidney, and your sister Tatum to a party at his place; you and Tatum don't invite Billy as he scared Sidney yesterday night.

"You can't be alone anymore, okay? You pee, I pee. Is that clear?" You overhear your sister tells Sidney you skipped over there, but you're stopped when Stu picks you up, you yelp, and he drops you by your sister; Tatum can tell by your face that you're not paying attention, so she hits your nose with a pencil. "Impromptu party tonight, my house. Celebrate this little fiesta. What do you think?" Stu questions Sidney and Tatum as he slings you over his shoulder. "Are you serious?" Sidney asks Stu, "Come on, Sidney, it will be fun, do it for me, please?" Tatum begs Sidney. "Okay… whatever, sure, I'll come." Sidney finally blurts out, and Stu smiles, "Yeah… You bring the snacks, okay, Babe?" Stu stares down, and you nod at him.

"You think Billy will be there?" Sidney looks at you and Tatum, you scoff, and Tatum rolls her eyes. "He better not be," Tatum turns to you. "You told Stu not to invite him, right?" she questions her twin; you stutter out, "Yeah." You don't like parties; you're only going because Stu is hosting it; if anyone else were hosting it, you wouldn't have come, no matter how much Stu begged and spoiled you with kisses. Your sister and Sidney were talking about Billy, and you're not paying attention, only pushing the grocery cart. 

"All right, you guys have fun." Dewey looks in the rearview mirror, eyeing you and Sidney in the back, "Not too much fun, or I'll bust ya." he says as Tatum gets out of the car and pulls the seat up so you and Sidney can wiggle out of the vehicle. "Yeah… Yeah, bye, Dewey." you wave to him, but you've pulled away when Tatum grabs your arm and drags you into Stu's farmhouse, giggling with Sidney right behind you two. "Here, kids!" Tatum shouts as you three head towards the kitchen, followed by shouting and whooping, "Oh… that's mature!" she spits out when she spots Stu pouring beer into a funnel. "You guys were tardy for the party, so we started without you," he responds as he pulls you in for a hug; you pull away when someone belches, "yuck!" you mumble to yourself.

"The Fog, Terror Train, Prom Night… Why is Jamie Lee Curtis in all of these movies?" Sidney says as she messes with the covers of the VHS tapes. "Because she's the scream queen," Randy replies, holding his hands in a prayer jester. Tatum walks over and plops next to Sidney with a toothpick in her mouth. The conversation ends when the doorbell rings. "I'll get that," Stu says as he climbs over you and the couch, falling. "Hey Babe, get me another beer, would ya?" he kisses you on the cheek before going to answer the door; you scoff and make your way to the garage. 

The garage motor chugs as you turn on the light; you push the button again, and the garage closes. You open up the fridge, the light illuminating the blue turtleneck you wear. "Damn it, Stu," you mumble as you eye the garage motor; you told him he needed to get that fixed like a few months ago. Humming to yourself, you don't notice Stu's cat that purrs and rubs his head against your jeans, "Hey Baby…" you say to the cat as you are grabbing a few beers for Stu; you know when he says he wants one, he's lying so you hold a couple just in case. The cat scurries away, running through the cat flap. 

"Hey, Dimwits!" you yell out as you try to push open the door leading to the house. Rolling your eyes, you hit the garage door, and the motor starts chugging; puzzled, you are about to leave the garage when it stops. You bend down to crawl out, but the garage door starts closing. "Damn it," you mutter to yourself; you're not paying attention as you look down. Ah, shit, you got a stain on your shoes. You bump into something with soft fabric; you look up to see someone in a Ghostface costume, "Hey Randy, lose the outfit; if Sidney or my sister sees it, they will draw blood," you chuckle to yourself as you try to push past him. "Alright, shithead, let me through," you say, venom in your voice as you try to squeeze past him, "Randy, drop the act, let me through," you say, shoving him a little bit, irritated. He shakes his head at you, and your smile perks up, "Oh! You wanna play psycho killer?" you question him, and he slowly nods; you continue to mock him before wrapping it up. "Okay, that's a wrap; now let me through." the Ghostface grabs your arm, "Randy, dude, cut it out," you yell at him; you see your reflection in a knife he's holding, "Randy!" you cry out as he slits your arm staining your turtleneck. Stumbling back, you fall into a lawn chair and get up from it in a rush.

"Fucker!" you scream at him as you throw the fridge's freezer door open, hitting your attacker in the face and making him fall. "Shit!" you mumble to yourself as the door is still locked; the man gets up and runs after you; you grab a few broken beer bottles and throw them at him, hitting him where the sun doesn't shine. He groans in pain as you try to find an escape. The pet flap! Why didn't you think of that before? You stumble to the pet flap before trying to squeeze your body through it, "Ow!" you say to yourself, and you tore your turtleneck a little bit; you got half of your body through it. The issue is your jeans aren't the most flexible. You panic when you hear the garage motor chugging away, lifting you. "Shit!" you scream as you finally get through the pet flap. You get up and stumble to the front of the house, killer hot on your toes; you bump into Stu, whose confused and asks what happened. You hugged him finally in the safety of your boyfriend. 

You need to get Tatum and Sidney and get the fuck out of here.

[randomfanner]

Starry Sky

“Good evening, Astarion,” the half elf had such eagerness in her voice as she approached his tent. Astarion’s eyes flicked up from the random book he had found at the Monastery. 

“Good evening,” Astartion’s lips curled into a seductive smirk, donning debonair mask in an instant. “How can I help you tonight, my sweet?” he asked, voice coated in sinful honey. 

Anya’s cheeks turned a slight bit flush. She shook her head to try and shake the color off.  “Uh, well, I found a spot to the east and  I was wondering…. If…. If maybe you would like to join me there tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep?”

“My, I did not expect you to be this forward, darling,” Astarion said, watching as her cheeks turned a few shades deeper of red. “With such a sweet proposal, how could I possibly say no? I will see you then.” despite his sweet words all he could do internally was groan. 

“Wonderful!” Anya said, blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “I will see you later, then,” Anya instantly turned and scampered off to her tent. 

As soon as she was out of sight Astarion put a hand on his head and moved his hair back, letting out a sigh.  

This was great for his plan. Her coming to him instead of the other way around? That meant Astartion’s trap to get her wrapped around his finger was working fantastically. 

The only issue was he was in no mood for sex. He would rather spend the night doing something else, but denying her right now? When she came to him? He might lose her. And well she certainly wasn’t his first choice with her instance of being a goodie goodie two shoes all the damn time… Anya was the only choice he had in this camp of freaks and weirdos. 

Ah well, it wasn’t like this was the first or the last time he would have to grin and bear it. Plus, their first night together had been… His own thoughts hesitated on the word to describe it. He wouldn’t say pleasant necessarily but more enjoyable than his average night. He may very well find himself pleasantly surprised. He didn’t hold out hope but it was possible, especially if she was willing to be more bold.

“I suppose I will have to see…”

Despite how he tried to amp himself up for the night, Astarion’s feet still dragged as he ventured down the most obvious path east. His face didn’t hide his discontent as he drudged forward. 

He could turn around, the thought kept pestering him.  Claim he had seen something in the shadows and decided to stay back to keep watch. Anya might believe him, she might even be happy that he was showing concern for the others. He hummed at the thought and stopped dead in his tracks. The thought became more and more tempting. 

No. No. He should just get this over with. All Astarion had to do was make it quick. 

It wasn’t too much longer before he stopped.  Near the edge of a cliff, he could see Anya. She paced back and forward, trampling over a blanket she had set out and just barely not knocking into a wicker basket. Her arms were crossed, eyes glued to the ground.

“Well there you are, my dear,” Astarion said as he walked over. 

Anya’s head flicked right to him, the expression of anxiety faded to a smile. “Astarion,” the excitement in her tone was clear. “I was getting a little worried,” she admitted as she sat down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her. “Come sit, the view from here is lovely.”

“Apologies for my tardiness, Halsin caught me on the way out and we got wrapped in conversation,” Astarion said as he took the seat next to her. “But now I am all yours and you are all mine… at least until the sun rises,” he leaned closer to her, getting closer to her.

“Well I am glad I have you!” Anya said as she leaned over to the basket. She shifted through it and he could hear glass clinking together. The sound had come from a bottle and a wine glass. She popped the wine bottle open and poured  it into the glass, offering it to him.

Astarion stared at her for a moment as he looked at the glass in her fingers. He almost hesitated as his finger plucked the glass. “Why, thank you,” he said as he took a sip. It was velvet down his throat, probably the best wine he had since he had been thrusted into the wilderness. “Hmm, lovely.”

“I am glad,” Anya placed the bottle down between them.

“Not going to drink any yourself?” Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow. The glass went down easily and he moved to pick up the bottle. 

“Nope, it is all for you. Shadowheart said it was a fancier blend and I want you to be able to enjoy it,” Anya said as she shifted into the basket and held up a bottle of water. “Don’t worry about me going dehydrated, though.” 

Astarion’s eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked at her. “Oh? Any particular reason you are gifting me with a bottle of wine if not to share it, then?” he asked as he took a swig. The blend was familiar. This was Baldur’s Grape… “And where did you get this?

“Well exploring the monastery today, Shadowheart and I found some with all of the firewine. She did take most of it but I talked her into giving me a bottle. As for why you mentioned not liking the wine at the Tiefling party, so thought this might be nice,” Anya’s head shifted to looking at the blanket of stars across the sky. 

“I see… Well, I have to appreciate it, quite a fine bottle she selected,” Astarion said as he took another swig, longer this time. He placed the bottle down on the other side of him as he shifted himself a bit closer to her. “This is quite the sweet sentiment, my dear,” Astarion’s hand moved, resting upon her thigh. 

Anya’s cheeks turned red at the contact and her eyes glanced at him before back at the sky. “I am glad you think so,” her voice cracked just a little bit. “It-it is lovely tonight, you can see all of the constellations so vividly,” her finger pointed to a cluster of stars together. “There is Ursa Major, and then Ursa Minor. I also can see Cygnus, Draco and Cassiopeia.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed together in a moment of frustration, but his eyes did follow where she pointed. “I never understood the point of constellations. I don’t see a bear and I don’t see a swan or whatever else it is supposed to represent,” Astarion said.

“Well, I cannot blame you for that,” Anya said. “A lot of people see the constellations differently. But most of them come from and are associated with stories, sometimes multiple…. The story behind Cygnus has been changed multiple times for example.”

“Oh? And what are those stories then?” Astarion asked.

“Well, I think the current most popular story behind begins with Phaethon, son of the sun god Apollo. Phaethon took the reigns of Apollo’s golden chariot, however Phaethon had not the skills to pilot the sun. It threatened to raze the earth,” Anya swooped her hand down. “So Zeus struck him down, knowing him into the river Eridanus where he unfortunately drowned. His friend or depending on the interpretation lover, Cygnus grieved and mourned. He went into the river to try and retrieve the body. The gods were touched by this demonstartion that they put him into the stars.”

“Sounds like lovers to me… even if it seems like a waste of time going after a body,” Astarion almost scoffed at the idea. Why waste time on the literal dead? It wasn’t like grabbing the body itself could bring them back. “Seems like the gods did him the wrong favor. Could have brought him back.” 

“A proper burial was extremely important for crossing into the afterlife,”  Anya said. “And bringing the dead back is no easy feat, in fact it actually links to another interruption where a man tried to bring his love back from the dead.” 

“Oh?”

“Well, in one version of Cygnus it is actually Orphesus being depicted. Do you know the myth of Orphesus and Eurydice?” Anya asked, turning her head towards the vampire. 

“Uh, vaguely, isn’t that one about the guy who went to the underworld to get his lover back and did the one thing that would ensure he wouldn’t?” Astarion asked as he picked up the bottle again.  “What does that have to do with swans?”

“Exactly right! And an excellent question,” Anya said as she took a long sip from her water. “The answer is that Orphesus, overtaken by sadness, began to play music so melancholic it would wilt the world around him. This was murdered and then placed into the sky as a swan, with his lyre beside him,” Anya said as she pointed to a smaller constellation next to it. 

“That seems cruel, putting him among the stars when his beloved is underground.” 

“I don’t disagree, but most of the time the gods, especially the Greek ones, are. Hell, even with the constellation we are talking about directly. A third way to see Cygnus is one of Zeus’ sex disguises,” Anya said.

“... What do you mean sex disguises?” Astarion asked as he closed his eyes slowly. “And why is it a swan?”

“Zeus would take different forms all of the time to bed women. Whether it be in the form of their husbands or animals of some sort. In this case, he took the form of a swan and raped Queen Leda. This lead to the birth of Helen of Troy.”

“That is kind of disgusting,” Astarion’s face scrunched up a bit. He hadn’t heard much about Zeus. “And isn’t Helen of Troy the one who started the Trojan war?” 

“Hey!” Anya’s cheeks turned into a pout. “Don’t you dare blame Helen for that. Helen did…” Anya thought for a moment.  “Nothing, she really did nothing to start the Trojan War but exist. What actually started the Trojan war was feud between Athena, Hera and Aphrodite that was settled by Paris. Helen was an unfortunate victim in the squabble. 

“What was the feud?” Astarion asked. He hadn’t meant to take an interest in what she was talking about. However now he was leaning in closer not to try and put the moves on her, but to listen.

Anya grinned. “A party on Mount Olympus is where many of the gods were invited… but not all of them. One of those left out of the festivities was the Goddess of Chaos, Eris. Angry at being left out she devised a plan. Into the party she tossed a golden apple with a note that the apple was for whoever was the most beautiful. Three Goddesses attempted to lay claim. The Goddess of Knowledge, Athena, the Goddess of Marriage, Hera and the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. Zeus was asked to settle this dispute but refused. Instead he selected a mortal to do the judgment, Paris.  Paris was asked to pick who was the most beautiful, however none of the Goddesses wanted to lose so they all offered him  a different bribe.”

“Seems pointless to hold the contest at all in that case if they are all offering bribes,” not that he wouldn't do the same.  Granted if he was put into a contest like that he was certain his sheer beauty would wine him alone. 

“Oh it is. Athena offered him great wisdom and battle knowledge. Hera offered him an empire.”

“Oh! He should pick that one,” Astarion chimed in.

“He maybe should have,” Anya said.  “Because Aphrodite, the last one to make her offer, promised him Helen of Troy. A woman who was very well known to have been married to Menelaus, the King of Sparta.  With all of his options laid out, Paris chose Aphrodite’s offer.”

“Gods, what a moron. He could have had all of that power and instead he picked a woman!” Astarion exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Had he even met Helen before?”

“Paris, uh…” Anya thought about it for a second, putting a finger to her chin. “I don’t know if he had. I don’t think he did,” Anya said. “Having met a woman meant very little if she was beautiful in Greek Myths. And Helen was known to be extremely beautiful. Many men fought over her hand and now Paris had it.”

“I am sure that didn’t go horribly wrong for him at all,” Astarion said. “You sure know a lot about this stuff.”

“My uncle taught me all sorts of Greek myths and legends,” Anya said. She had a fond smile on her face as she looked at the sky again. “He would take me to the park and point out the constellations, telling me about them. Knowing the stars has come in handy multiple times,” Anya said.

“How so?”

“Well, constellations have always been used as a navigation tool, and it is a great way to spend time with someone you care about,” Anya looked at him with a closed eye smile.

Astarion’s eyes flicked away as he looked out towards the sky as well. “Hm, I suppose it was wise then. It has been interesting,” he wasn’t expecting to have enjoyed himself at night, but he had been pleasantly surprised.

“I am glad,” Anya said.

“So… how about that one,” Astarion pointed to a random grouping of stars in the sky. 

“Oh! That is Pegasus-” Anya began the story of the winged horse. Astarion watched as she talked of the myths, answering any questions and going on tangents…

It was… nice. Very nice.

And the wine certainly didn’t hurt to evening either.