#and yet she never has more than mildly disheveled hair

[secretceremonials]

No thoughts, just jagos’s cassandra

[dernarrleid]

continuation from here

Relishing in the cold stare of a woman never perturb Kenzou before. The words falling from his lips, he meant them in earnest, understanding the nuance behind the work he performed day in and day out yet scolded himself on their delivery. Choosing who to save, it was easy to stay objective in a system who's design made the incoming of patients fair, taking away another element of all powerful responsibility aside from the conspicuous. Fundamentally, life wasn't in the same colors or variations for certain individuals over others; many had not the privilege to venture out and discover this notion. He supposed it's why there's a near permanent misunderstanding between people of what the meaning of said existence was, as the battles of hopefulness and nihilistic ideals wage on indefinitely. It doesn't entirely explain why most of his run ins with decidedly head strong, free-thinking persons question his character in a way almost condescending. The Irina he had searched for, the profile heard only from a man too cowardly to go on record, yet to damn good at his job for Kenzou to ignore the tip off. The @zorkaya he'd met instead.

Not to be deluded by her distinct features, the pure color of her hair paired with the crystalized, sunny twinkle seemingly disemboweling the fabric of his ideals from a few words exchanged. Across from him lie the proverbial serpent to his dove. Kenzou does not think so highly of himself in a personal sense, absolutely not, remaining completely neutral in his perception. To the defense of savings lives, it may only be faced head on. In the past, his ire while at bay grew each time his concurrent morals were challenged. Which fair, word of mouth often served the impression of his auspicious skills, never probing his beliefs since the medical world had no room for differing interpretations. However, the sheltered upbringing gave way for perhaps the ultimate form of prosperity. He'd been practicing inadvertently.

"It's a flaw I'm not proud of, but the more I believed in it the more it never failed to unsettle me. Outside of a professional environment one has to abide by their own set of morals." Kenzou says, mildly. Ridiculousness settles upon him in his surroundings, staring at the floor where his shoes stood out above all. The extravagance in her prim mien, only familiar with money in a detached sense considering his travels, he'd be rolling in it if his materialism was anymore than it was currently. Extremely aware of how terribly odd they come given they traditionally have no inhibitions left. "Whether I'm alive or on the brink of death, I'm not doing a thing for you." Rather callously put, although something tells him she wouldn't mind in a non-murderous way. Surprisingly, most of his interaction were the opposite. "My life is in the hands of my patients... you don't seem like the type to require any immediate attention."

He shuffles the soles of suede shoes on the wooden tiles underfoot, taking the glass before him if only to peer at his reflection. Self conscious wasn't the correct wording, hair a bit disheveled both from his roots with the beginnings of stubble prinking his chin. In stark contrast, he sighs to the air. "Have you ever felt the need to stray away from this world?" He questions tentatively. Recognizing a smile, not truthful, from miles away never mind the few feet between. The drink swirls in hand, thumb and index finger spinning the steam of the glass. "A man I'd been helping," saving, "he mentioned you in some capacity before his procedure. I... had to see for myself what kind of person you were—why he was so afraid. He wanted me to give you a token of his time with you, said I'd have no trouble seeing how beautiful you are." Reaching into the breast pocket stuffed with a handkerchief was a poorly written letter, manuscript by someone on the verge of death.

The way it was frantic burned together—anyone would have concluded the note held a powerful infatuation behind it. Why for a Ms. Zarya he'd no clue. Pleasantries fell short via his time to even make the trip and her demeanor; reading the letter was one thing different from the reality of his first encounter. He hoped it was his last. "He was wrong."

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Seeing Him (5+1): For the First Time

summary: reader sees hotch in a different light for the first time and does nothing about it, take 1.

pairing: gn!reader x aaron hotchner

warnings: pining, angst

an: this was…supposed to be an exercise for myself to just write and put it out but then my brain said no <33. this feels a little weird for me and it’s my first ever 5+1, so i hope y’all likey. and thank you to my sweet @ssahotchie as always for betaing for me. icon is her’s as well!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

You’re content and that’s putting it mildly. The pace of the job, sweet solitude, and your found family do it for you. There are a lot of things that you could want for and so many things that society says you lack but your life is what it is. That’s enough for you.

Until it isn’t.

The case is frustrating, you’re getting nowhere with the unsub in custody and an entire family’s life is hanging in the balance. The team is on edge, but Hotch’s behavior beats everyone else’s out. He’s disheveled. When he’s not talking his tongue sticks out between his teeth, his eyes are dark and charged, his hand on his hip. The other hand runs through his hair as he paces back and forth, mouth moving rapidly like Reid’s when he’s trying to figure something out.

Everyone else is going about the job, spouting their own theories, bouncing ideas off of each other but you sit in your chair quietly, observing. In your 2 years on the team you’ve never seen him like this. It feels wrong, but you’re captivated, interest peaked in seeing him unravel and be human for just a moment.

“(Y/N)?” Blake’s hand comes down on your shoulder as she looks down at you in concern.

“What? What’d I miss?”

She ignores your question, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…thinking.” You glance over at Hotch who’s brow is still furrowed, only now he’s staring at the case board with Dave, looking a little more put together.

Hotch turns to the team, his eyes still full of that spark of uncontrol. “Okay, let’s talk through victimology and m.o., again see if we’re missing anything.”

____

It isn’t until you’re on the jet home, the case solved that you let yourself think about what happened. Slipping in your headphones, you stare out the window so that you can have some semblance of solitude while thinking through your feelings. You liked seeing him like that. For the first time you see Hotch as something other than a leader, you see him as a man.

Just a man, one who’s wound a little too tight. One who needs to let himself go and to give himself not an inch, but a mile. One who’s attractive. One you’re attracted to? Yes. You fidget with your fingers as you admit that to yourself. It’s like opening Pandora’s box. You haven’t looked at someone the way you looked at Hotch in years, haven’t seen the point or the need.

You don’t get farther into your thoughts about being attracted to Hotch because someone’s pulling your headphones out, and plopping down in the seat next to you. You glare at the person sitting next to you.

Derek.

He leans over with a wide grin, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing.” You say too quickly, snatching your headphones back from him.

“Don’t you ‘nothing’ me, I can hear the gears turning in your head.”

“It’s nothing Derek, really.”

You couldn’t tell him that you were seeing Hotch for the first time. Truly appreciating him for the man he is. It makes you realize that you were regarding him as something categorized as other. The rest are family, it’s always been easy to label them as that, but hotch has always been different. He can be put in a box, but only to a point. He’s predictable and structured, definable and yet…all you’ve ever been able to do is call him Hotch.

Hotch your boss. Hotch the leader. Hotch, the one who always knows what to do, the one you can count on to get shit done. You’ve avoided placing him anywhere else but there because of this. Have you always known? Has your subconscious been overriding?

“Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It was a hard case for everyone, I’m just ready to be home and alone.”

“Well alright then.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know but I’ll leave you be.” He gives your hand a squeeze before returning to his spot across from JJ and Reid.

You try to get comfortable, putting on your sleep playlist and wrapping yourself in a blanket but it doesn’t work. For once, the entire jet is dim, not even Hotch’s light is on. He’s awake, typing quietly on his laptop. With a deep sigh you rise, heading to the small kitchenette to make yourself some tea.

You hear the curtain move but don’t look back. There’s only one person awake, you know exactly who it is.

“Everything alright?” His voice is hushed, infused with professionalism, dashed with concern.

“Everything’s fine, I wish all of you would stop asking me that.” You bite out, cursing yourself when your arms cross against your chest.

“Things don’t seem fine.”

“Do not profile me, Hotch. That’s crossing a line.” The electric kettle dings and you grab it hastily, filling your mug to the brim.

“If you don’t talk then that’s what I have to do.” He says unapologetically. He’s surprised that you’re talking to him this way. He’s always known you have it in you, but never thought it would be for him.

Turning around, you face him. “I did talk, I said that I’m fine.”

The look he gives you makes it clear that he’s not buying it but he doesn’t block your path or cage you in. He just stands there with a mixture of worry and exasperation painted on his features. The features you can’t help but call beautiful now as you stare at him.

“You know what, profile all you want but I’m not gonna stand here and listen.” You grasp your mug firmly, heading for the curtain. When you’re standing right next to him, he reaches out and places his hand on your arm to touch you. His fingers feel like a hot iron, heat seeping through your light weight long sleeve and melting your skin.

“What’s going on?” The tone in his voice is different, pleading almost and that mixed with the strong smell of him almost makes you give in. But you’ve gone a long time without feeling this way or needing someone.

Your chin juts up in defiance as your eyes meet his, “Nothing.”

Fast legs move you back to your seat in a blur. You set the tea down, unable to drink it now that your stomach is in knots. His touch, his smell, it’s overwhelmed you in the worst way. You put in your headphones once more, something loud and invasive to distract you, before curling up into a ball under your blanket. Your hand runs over the spot where his fingers laid, trying to get rid of that warm feeling. You continue to do it even though you already know you’ll never be able to forget it.

tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @ssahotchie, @azenpal, @chelseyjoyce, @hotchwhore15, @dadbodhotch11, @ssamorganhotchner, @choppa-style, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @g-l-pierce, @qtip-blog, @scuttling, @akira-155, @j-cat, @laurensprentiss, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @silvermercy, @lilacprentiss, @fightingdragonswithreid, @vintagesubmariner, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack, @ssahotchnerxx, @sunshinexhotchner, @dindjarinneedsahug, @angelfxllcm, @ssahotchslover, @wheelsupkels, @multiverse-mxdness, @jaspxr , @gspenc, @sadgirlml, @hotchs-bitch, @lcvingprentjss

series tagged: @temilyrights

[wardenannie]

A lot of baby/pregnancy fic tends to focus on the end of pregnancy/the beginning of the baby’s life. But I wanted to do a little character study into Levi, so here he is over the course of 10 hours after learning Hange is preggo~  (mildly nsfw)

Ao3

10 Hours

Hour 0

 “So...” She faces away from him. Her single eye locked on the sky beyond her window. Hange Zoe, fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, will not turn to face him. She is sat at her desk, hands folded on its top. Levi cannot see her expression, but he expects that it is as grim as her tone. 

He braces himself for bad news. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

The birds beyond the window stop singing. The clouds cease their trek across the cerulean sky. Levi’s breath is stuck in his chest, a painful lump between his lungs. 

“Come again?”

This time she does look at him, pinning him to the floor with an emotionless glance over her shoulder. 

“Pregnant. Expecting. Vertically impaired bun in the proverbial oven.” 

The short joke is lost on him. He exhales sharply, like someone punched him in the gut, “Oh.” 

Hange sighs and resumes her staring out the window, “Just think on it. You don’t need to say anything right now.” 

Levi swallows thickly and gladly takes the excuse to exit the room. His head is spinning, heart thundering in his chest. Pregnant. It doesn’t feel real yet. 

He retreats to the relative safety of his quarters. 

Hour 1

Levi punches a hole in his wall with a snarl. Untoward anger radiating through his limbs. 

Sheetrock and plaster rain down, dirtying his pristine floor, further incensing him. He kicks a second hole in the wall, shouting with the impact of his booted heel. More debris falls. 

He paces back and forth, occasionally tugging a hand through his hair. He’s sweating, he feels filthy. 

But he knows that Hange isn’t lying. This is not the sort of sick joke she would pull. But they had been so careful, hadn’t they? 

He replays the penultimate moments of their last few encounters over in his head, and quickly realizes that they haven’t been as careful as he’d thought. There is nothing quite like losing himself in the depths of Hange... Commander Hange. 

Shit. He curses himself and perches on the foot of his bed, resting his head in his hands. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do now? 

Hour 2

Eventually he finds himself spread eagle across his bed. His eyes trace along the wooden grain of the ceiling. His head still spins when he thinks too deeply about anything, and a strange ache has settled into his chest, like a fist around his heart. 

Does he love Hange Zoe? Would it be fair to bring a child into the world if he didn’t? 

They’ve never said the words aloud to one another, but he knows in his heart-of-hearts that he does love her. She anchors him to reality, instills in him a drive to live where there might have only been despair. 

His fists clench and unclench rhythmically in his linens. Levi shuts his slate eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm and steady himself. 

He is in love with Hange Zoe. He can admit that to himself now, in what feels like the most dire of circumstances. 

But can he love a child? Is there enough room in his heart? 

He rolls onto his side and covers his face with a pillow. 

It still feels unreal. A bad dream playing out before his waking eyes. 

Hour 3

He oscillates back into denial, then anger. 

Who are they to bring a child into this terrible, cruel world? An Eldian child, a scapegoat, a martyr for Marley to string up and burn. 

She has to be lying. Hange cannot possibly be telling him the truth. No Walls, no Gods, no omnipotent powers could be so terribly sordid as to bring an infant into the world now. Not while they are on the brink of war. 

Hour 4

He remembers his childhood; years spent wasting away in a whorehouse. Starving while his mother wasted her ill-gotten wages on booze. Levi was a bastard, fatherless. The only male role-model he’d ever had was Kenny, and look where that had gotten him. 

“I can’t be a father,” he whispers into the dying light of his quarters. 

He doesn’t know how. 

Hour 5

He takes his supper in the mess hall when he would normally eat within the privacy of his quarters. He hopes that the noise might distract, that interacting with his... his kids... might help him to better grasp his current situation. 

The irony of it isn’t lost on him as he sits in silence amongst his young comrades. In a way he has been a father to them where their own had become titan food. 

He watches Sasha scarf her food with abandon, Connie teasing her between his own hearty mouthfuls. He watches Jean roll his eyes at the two of them, then take a moment to proudly pet the patchy stubble that has begun to grow in around his chin. 

Levi listens to Armin excitedly pontificate to Mikasa and Eren about Marlean cuisine and meal customs. Mikasa listens on in contented silence, a small smile on her lips. Eren’s eyes are distant, like he isn’t listening at all. 

Levi wants to smack him on the back of his head. The twerp has been acting up a lot more as of late. Secretly, it worries him. 

His kids. 

Who needs a baby when they have it this good? 

He sighs and looks down to his tray, food untouched. 

They’re Hange’s kids, too. 

Their baby. Theirs. 

Hour 6

He returns to his quarters, stomach tied up in painful knots. He remembers Kenny, how the man had taught him the cruel, ruthless ways of the Underground. 

He remembers Isabel and Furlan. How he had allowed himself to love so selflessly only to be burned and brutalized in the end. What if that happened to Hange? Hange who he had come to rely on more than anything, anyone. Childbirth was a dangerous thing, everyone knew that. Even with the new, fancy anti-biotics being imported from the mainland the risks were high. 

What if he lost her? 

Her remembers Erwin who he had loved as a father, a brother, a martyr and a dear comrade. He remembers his Commander dying on that rooftop in Shiganshina. He remembers the blood. Icy blue eyes cold and dead as Hange peeled back his lids. 

Levi’s stomach rolls and he flips his upper half over the side of the bed and promptly vomits onto the floor. 

Behind his eyes an image has begun to take shape. Hange laid out in bed, naked from the waist down. Bloody, sweaty, weak and dying as a shapeless creatures squalls on her chest. 

“No,” Levi rasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He feels so weak, so helpless in the face of this indominable thing. The sleep that takes him is unbidden and restless. 

Hour 7

Levi dreams of a cabin tucked away amongst the massive boles of the trees beyond wall Rose. Smoke rises from the chimney, filling the crisp forest air with a pleasant, homey smell. 

Sunlight breaks through the canopy and speckles the ground. Everything is bright and beautiful and alive. The simple wooden door of the cabin beckons to him, and he is helpless but to answer its call. 

Inside the space is cozy and quaint. The kitchen and living area inhabiting the same space. Hange is waiting for him, sitting on a small, plush sofa. She isn’t wearing her eye patch, revealing the milky iris and silvery scar she usually guards so carefully. 

“Levi,” she beams at him. For a moment he is stunned by her simple, unkempt beauty. 

He knows he is meant to be anxious over something, but suddenly he cannot remember what it is. 

He sits down beside her takes her face between his hands and kisses her. 

I love you, he wants to admit the truth. He’s ready. But his lips will not part. The words will not pass his tongue. 

When they part Hange’s expression darkens, long shadows falling over her hawkish features. 

“Levi...” she breathes. 

Shadows begin to creep in from the corners of the cabin. The walls suddenly feel as though they are caving in, and suddenly his peaceful dream has become a nightmare. 

“You’re pregnant,” The sound of his own voice is alien and distant in his ears. He feels small. Smaller than usual. Miniscule and helpless. Why can he speak now? 

Hange nods and then the pair of them are besieged by shadows. 

Hour 8

Levi sits bolt upright in his bed, sweat is gathered on his brow and sharp shivers wrack his limbs. He pants and wipes his face with his palm. 

“Fuck,” he curses. 

He’s used to nightmares, but more often than not Hange is in bed beside him waiting to soothe them away. 

Here, in his quarters, he is completely and utterly alone. 

Levi doesn’t want to be alone anymore. 

He tugs on his boots and stumbles out into the hallway, not caring how disheveled he must appear to any passers-by. He wants to be with Hange, he’s cursing himself for leaving her alone to begin with. 

How selfish does that make him? He’s not the one bearing the brunt of this burden. It isn’t his body and life that are at risk. What must she be feeling now? All alone because her lover left her in a fit of selfish upset. 

When he reaches her door he doesn’t bother to knock. It opens with a rush of air and he finds her where he left her; sitting at her desk, gazing out the window. Her elbows rest on the dry ink of a half finished letter. 

“Levi?” She spins sideways in her chair, facing him entirely. 

He shakes his head and closes the distance between them in two easy strides. He seizes her face between his hands and kisses her roughly, because he isn’t good with words, so he’ll show her how he feels. 

“Mmpf!” She makes a noise of surprise, but then she melts into him, hands lifting to rest on his chest, then caressing around to link behind his neck. 

When they part she gives a small, sad smile and says, “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight.” 

“I was being an idiot,” Levi grunts, and he helps her to her feet. “A selfish idiot.” 

“No you weren’t, Levi. It’s a lot to take in, I know,” her thumb brushes his lower lip. “I love you.” 

Hour 9

The words are difficult to speak, so he shows her out he feels. He shows her in the reverent way he peels her clothes from her body, the rough, desperate caress of his touch, the slide of his thin lips over her chin and collarbones and breasts. 

He holds her hips and kisses from her navel to her abdomen, and he kisses her there too because despite everything he does want this baby. He loves this baby already, because it is him and it is Hange. The best of the both of them taking shape in her womb. 

Levi abandons all gentleness as he makes love to her. It is animal. Primal. His hands will leave bruises on her hips, and his lips suck hers swollen. 

When he finishes, just after her, he doesn’t bother to pull out. It doesn’t matter anymore. And as he pumps himself into her he whispers raspy and desperate into her sternum, “I love you.” 

The words hurt in such a sublime way. He’s never said them before, not once in his life. But here he is, speaking them, meaning them, bleeding them from his soul into hers. 

He loves her, and he’ll love this baby, too. 

Hour 10

They lay in bed, Hange’s fingers comb rhythmically through his hair, and she presses the occasional kiss to his crown. 

Levi has one arm wound around her waist, his cheek pressed into her sternum, his other hand cupping her abdomen, thumb caressing gentle circles into the skin there. 

“I know you’re afraid,” Hange finally speaks. Her voice is soft and loaded with emotion. “I am, too. But I think we deserve this, Levi. It’s a chance for a life beyond the Survey Corps, for a real family.” 

Levi tilts his head up and kisses her gently. She’s right, but he still cannot help but remember his vision and his nightmare. 

“There’s so much that could go wrong,” his voice is pained. He holds her tighter. 

Hange sighs and rests her cheek on his head, “You’re not wrong, but we’ve got eight months to figure things out, okay? For tonight, just hold me.” 

Levi sighs and melts into her, shutting his eyes. 

In Hange’s arms his sleep is dreamless. 

[thesnowinthemountains]

Monsta X as the guy from school you have a crush on

(a/n: this is subpar, but also this is what happens when you go for the one guy in your entire major who has a girlfriend. enjoy!)

Shownu

He gives you the boy chin-nod gesture, sitting in his regular seat beside you. “How was your weekend?” You ask casually, pretending not to notice his lightly disheveled hair, the ratty old band shirt he’s wearing; you even pretend not to notice it’s a band you like. He shrugs, setting his things down. “I was staying with my girlfriend’s family at their cabin.” “Oh? That sounds fun,” you dial the enthusiasm all the way up. He sighs. “They were asking me when we’re going to get married, have kids, start a family,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I just- she’s a few years older, you know? I never thought it was a big deal, but there’s just no way I’m there yet, I mean I’m still in university, clearly.” “Right,” you smirk. You’ve been feigning interest in his girlfriend for months, waiting for a breakup. “So, what did you do?” “I excused myself, went for a run. In a blizzard.” He shakes his head. “It’s a wonder I didn’t get pneumonia.” You gape at him, trying not to picture him brooding, running in the cold, cheeks pink. 

Wonho

Since the classes had been moved online, your communication with Wonho had gone from flirting in hallways to texting every few days, and it had your morale pretty low. You tried to text him during classes, and although it wasn’t the same, it was nice to see a smile brighten his features when his phone screen lit up. You had a cat that wandered behind you a lot during classes and liked to settle between the back of your chair and your shoulders. I like the cat, Wonho texted one morning. Thanks, but she’s a little evil She wants an attitude like yours, he answered quickly, still typing and when you looked at your computer screen, you found him grinning down, his phone out of frame

Minhyuk

It’s been a few weeks since you and your friend decided you didn’t like this guy in your class who was consistently rude, interrupted you every time you spoke, and always had a snarky comment to throw your way. To top it off, he was rarely ever in class, and when he did show, he was entirely disrespectful to the professors. One morning, Minhyuk comes in, takes his seat near the professor’s desk. Even though you sit a bit further off in the room, he joins your conversation. “Minhyuk, where’s your little neighbour?” The prof asks, meaning the rude guy. “He hasn’t come to class in a while, is he okay?” Minhyuk scoffs. “I don’t know, I don’t talk to him.” He laughs. “Oh, I just thought, because he sits next to you every class-” “Oh, I don’t associate with guys like him.” He glances your way, essentially demonstrating a quiet form of loyalty.

Kihyun

"I hate when the stories are bad,” you roll your eyes. “That’s sort of why we workshop them. To better them,” Kihyun smiles. You roll your eyes, leaning in. “Easier to do when the person can actually fucking write,” you whisper, not wanting the writer of the story you’re looking over to overhear. Kihyun stares at you, jaw hanging open in mock scandal. “You’re so mean.” He scolds, looking away. You shrug. “Please, I add life to this class,” you giggle. He laughs. “I think you add life anywhere you go.” You smile to yourself but move on, until Kihyun gets a shine in his eyes. “By the way, I started that book you told me to read. It’s really good.” “Oh!” You get excited, “have you met Boris yet?” You ask about your favorite character. “Not yet, but you’ll be the first to know when I do,” he leans in again, biting his lip, and you wonder when you started flirting with him openly.

Hyungwon

It’s your one evening class of the semester, it’s finally over for the week, so you gather your things and make your way to the metro station. “Hey, wait up,” Hyungwon calls, hurrying to your side. “I’ll walk you to the station.” “You really don’t have to,” you chuckle. You pause to wait for the elevator down to the lobby. “Well, maybe I want to, how about that?” You pull your car keys out of your bag with a jingle. “Do you need that many keychains?” He laughs. You hold out your set of keys for him and he takes it, looking over every little thing, souvenirs, knick-knacks and all. “This is cute,” he holds out a fuzzy little bear, the size of the tip of your pinky finger. The elevator doors open and you step in with a dozen other people from your class. “You want it?” “Oh, no it’s yours-” “I have more than enough, obviously.” He stares at you for a second, but pulls the bear out of your keychain. He reaches into his pocket to fish out a single key. “You don’t have a keychain?” You ask. “I do now,” he grins. You blush and look away to find a classmate watching the both of you with a raised eyebrow.

Jooheon

You sit with some school friends around a table at a bar. You’re all shouting over each other in the tradition of sharing stories and getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester. Jooheon gives you special attention, something you’ve been getting used to over the past couple weeks of classes. Out of nowhere, a strange voice booms over all the others: “Jooheon, man, holy shit!” A guy a few years older than the rest of you leans over you, grabbing Jooheon’s shoulder from across the table and shaking it. “Hey, how’s your sister?” “She’s good, man, she’s good,” he flashes his dimples, clearly mildly uncomfortable. “That’s good. Man, you grew up, last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?” The guy asks, still leaning between you and your other friend. “Last I heard, you got yourself a girlfriend, that right?” He asks. Jooheon bites his lip, giving you a quick, guilty glance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” They chat like this for a minute before the guy disappears again. “Sister’s ex-boyfriend,” he explains, smiling shyly and seemingly only at you. You nod and everyone returns to their evening. An hour or so later, the guy reappears. “Jooheon, I’m headed out, take care of yourself, man. Tell your sister I say hi.” “Sure, sure,” he laughs. 

Changkyun

You wait for your friends at the bar, spinning lightly on your bench, chatting with the bartender. It’s a quiet evening, early yet. “Hey, can we get some sangria?” Changkyun asks the bartender as he slides into the seat beside yours. “You’re buying me drinks now?” You smirk, looking up from what was a vodka-soda but is now just an empty glass. “Maybe,” he leans conspiratorially into you, “don’t tell anyone.” He whispers. “I don’t know about anyone, but I’ll make sure not to tell your girlfriend,” you challenge. “Right,” he leans back quickly. “Yeah, especially don’t tell her.” Homewrecker, your mind shouts. Your mind can go to hell for tonight. 

[geralehane]

an unlikely cupid

Raven and Clarke get drunk and accidentally summon Lexa the old and powerful deity who's also hopelessly, helplessly gay.

or, the one where Lexa and Clarke live happily ever after.

READ ON AO3

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If Clarke has ever learned anything in life, it would be two things. One: most ideas Raven comes up with are surprisingly idiotic, considering her brilliance. Two: Drunk Clarke never agrees with anything Sober Clarke thinks, and Raven’s ideas being idiotic is not an exception.

In fact, Drunk Clarke loves Raven’s ideas. Which is exactly how the two of them find themselves in their dorm at two-fifty five in the morning, spilling whiskey all over a wooden board Raven found in her grandma’s attic last weekend.

A wooden Ouija board, to be precise.

Sober Clarke told Raven to burn it down. Drunk Clarke giggles and snatches it from her hands, eagerly looking it over. “How do we know it works?”

“Fuck if I know,” is her answer as Raven takes a huge swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the strong burn. “We place our fingers on this small thing and hope for the best.”

“That’s what she said,” Clarke hiccups. “You ready? We ready?”

Raven’s enthusiastic nod and the splash of whiskey from the bottle notify her that everyone is more than ready. “Alright,” Clarke says. “Wait, why are we doing this, again?”

“Cause Halloween, man,” Raven loudly lets her know, nodding at her own words.

“Oh.” Clarke thinks for a minute. “True.” She squints at the board. “Is it okay that we spilled whiskey on it?”

Raven nods.

“Is it okay if I lick it off?”

Raven nods again.

So Clarke does. She drools a little on it, right in the center, but she’s too drunk to care, so she simply wipes it away.

“Hot,” her friend comments with a wide, sloppy grin. “Okay. Gimme those sausages, Griffin.”

“Hey!” Clarke makes two fists, hiding her fingers. “Fuck you. They are not sausages. They are magnificent.”

“As someone who bangs chicks, you’d think you’d learn to appreciate the gift from gods.”

“I’d trade them for a girlfriend,” Clarke says. “Or Cheetos. I’m hungry.”

“Quit dicking around and let’s do this.”

Clarke doesn’t voice another that’s what she said, but she makes damn sure Raven gets her train of thought when she waggles her eyebrows at her.

//

All Lexa wanted was to come back to her plane of existence and climb in a bathtub. That’s literally all she wanted. She doesn’t even particularly cares if there’s going to be water in it. She just likes the concept. Sometimes, humans have the best ideas.

Everything is giving her a headache that day. It’s like the whole universe with every world in it have decided to band together against her. Well. That’s Halloween for her. Despite it becoming a largely commercial holiday, no one cancelled Samhain just because humans decided they wanted to be a Joker once a year.

Vile creature, that man – and she says that as someone who’s viewed as demonic. She’s not actually a demon – that’s common misconception. She’s just an old goddess. Humans know a lot of her names, and none of them can even begin to imagine that she’s the one behind those faces, portrayed grim, evil, and, most offensively, male.

Lexa sighs. Her Hades days were certainly the most fun, but the tale’s been twisted so much she’s not sure she enjoys those memories quite in the same way. Oh well. Samhain is almost over. She can finally kick back and relax in a hot tub and maybe open up a bottle of ambrosia she saved for a special occasion. And what could be more special than a night of self-care?

Now, Lexa never considered herself particularly lucky. Mostly because Luck and her had a brief affair that did not end well, and she’s been mildly cursed ever since. Nothing she can’t live with, of course – but just a tad inconvenient. She’s certainly learned to cherish small blessings. That’s why, when she feels a tell-tale tug in her gut before being hurled back to a dimension she’s just left, she’s not even surprised. She simply whispers a quick thank you that she hasn’t taken her clothes off yet.

With that, she sighs and lets herself be whisked away back to Earth, wondering  with scientific curiosity who could have possibly found out the summoning spell.

//

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“This seems like a ‘that’s what she said’ moment, but I assure you, she’s never said that.”

Raven blinks. Reaches for the bottle and pouts when she finds it empty. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Fuck if I know,” Clarke repeats Raven’s words from earlier. “And I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re supposed to move this thing,” she gestures to the heart-shaped piece of wood, with a hole in the middle of it that she looks through at Raven.

“Maybe there’s an instruction or something,” Raven mutters, grabbing the planchette. Clarke resists and tugs it back, resulting in Raven’s forehead colliding with her mouth. Hard.

“Shit!” Clarke exclaims when a droplet of blood falls onto the board from her now-split lip. “Raven, what the fuck?”

Her friend only shrugs apologetically. Not even apologetically. In fact, she doesn’t even shrug. “You’re doing it wrong,” she says.

“I do everything right,” Clarke argues, taking the planchette back. “Sit and watch. And prepare for an I told you so.”

//

Lexa blinks when the spinning finally stops and she’s rematerialized in what appears to be a room in a college dormitory. That alone surprises her more than anything that’s happened today. Surely, a college student couldn’t have known all the steps necessary to complete a ritual.

“…prepare for an I told you so,” she catches and turns in the direction of the voice, squinting. English. American English, to be exact. Things are taking an interesting turn. She was expecting a bunch of men unsatisfied with life and recent feminist movement. Not two drunk college girls.

She comes closer to get a better look at them, and no, she’s definitely not prepared for what she sees. And what she sees is an angel. An actual angel with a bloody lip and unfocused gaze and a strong alcoholic smell. An angel with blonde tresses and bluest eyes.

Lexa can’t stop herself from letting out the smallest, softest gasp.

She’s immensely grateful for her ability to be invisible.

She’s frozen in place, eyes taking in every inch of the girl’s body when that same voice – and oh, what a voice it is! – addresses the room, husky and low. “Is anyone here with us?”

Lexa takes a deep breath, rubs her suddenly cold hands, and hesitantly steps forward, placing her own fingers on the wooden planchette and shakily dragging it to the word “yes”.

//

“Raven!” Clarke yelps, jumping from the board. “Raven, I did it!”

Raven, however, does not share her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she says blankly. “I saw you move it.”

“No, see, see,” with fast slurred speech and disheveled hair, Clarke more closely resembles a maniac than a bright daughter of two respected surgeons. “I didn’t – Raven,” she gasps, happy she finally gets a good reason to pause for a dramatic effect. “I didn’t move it,” she finishes in a loud whisper.

Raven stares at her. And stares. And stares some more before she starts to chuckle, slowly at first. Soon, it escalated into a continuous giggling. “Sure, Clarke,” she manages to say. “I believe you.”

“But I’m telling the truth!” Clarke gets suddenly upset. Why doesn’t Raven believe her?

“And I’m marrying Finn tomorrow. Get real, Griff.” The planchette hits Raven’s forehead as soon as she’s finished talking.

“See!”

Clarke’s triumphant yell pales in contrast with Raven’s terrified scream.

//

That is very, very loud. Lexa does not like loud.

Unless Clarke likes loud. Then she loves loud.

Right now, however, it’s starting to become a little extreme. So she sighs and waves her hand, silencing the girl whose name is Raven. She has to admit – watching her try to scream silently is mildly amusing.

But then it scares Clarke, too. “Who’s here? Who’s doing this?”

She sighs again. Then, she makes her voice audible so that Clarke can hear you. “You have noting to fear. My name is Lexa. I will give your friend her voice back, but only if she promises not to scream.”

After Raven’s rigorous nodding, Lexa waves her hand again, and the girl coughs, eyes wide and expression sober. “Who – who are you?!”

“Oh,” Lexa says, because she hasn’t really thought things this far. “I have many names and positions. I believe you know me as the devil, but I promise you, I’m vastly different from that portrayal.”

Raven blinks. “Did she just say she’s Satan?”

“I think so,” Clarke whispers back, and Lexa freezes again, watching the way she presses her lips together. How is she so beautiful?

“Does Satan really expect me to believe she’s, what, nice?”

“Well, yes,” Lexa speaks up. “That would be a polite thing to do.”

“Oh hell no,” Raven says. “I don’t play with demons,” she announces, despite the fact that it’s exactly what she’s been doing for the past half an hour. “If you’re nice, tell us how to get rid of you.”

Now it’s Lexa’s turn to blink. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she says apologetically. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! You meant get me to leave this room?”

“Yeah. Exactly. How do we do that?”

“Oh, you – you don’t. I can come and go as I please now. That’s the whole point of the summoning spell.”

Clarke and Raven look at each other, eyes wide. “The what now?!”

//

So turns out that while Luck and Lexa are not exactly pals, Fate definitely favors her. Through a series of events that they can’t exactly deem either fortunate or unfortunate just yet, Clarke and Raven manage to accidentally summon one of the most powerful beings known to man. And that being just happens to fall head over heels for Clarke.

Raven finds it weird. Clarke finds it sweet. And Fate – well, Fate doesn’t find it impossible.

“Lexa, dear,” she mumbles around a thin cigarette while Lexa broods all over her realm, having just come back from Earth after yet another night with Clarke, full of talking and laughing and soft unspoken confessions on both ends. “Just take some time off and spend a life with that girl. She’ll join you after it’s over anyway. What’s seventy years to you? A blink of an eye. Besides, have you forgotten how fun it is to grow old?”

So Lexa sighs, fishes the best outfit she has out of her memory, and goes back to earth wearing her corporeal form and a pale blue oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up. She faintly recalls Clarke liking that.

In hindsight, waiting for Clarke in her room might not have been her best idea, but can she be blamed, really? She got used to it. She just kinda forgot she wasn’t visible all previous times she’s been there.

Clarke walks through her door a moment later, eyes on her phone. “Lexa, I’m home!” she calls out, not looking up as she kicks her shoes off. “You here? Le- Jesus fucking Christ!”

Lexa never particularly liked the man, but the profanity still makes her wince. “Hello, Clarke.”

“Holy shit,” Clarke exhales, pressing a hand to her chest and bending to retrieve her phone that fell out of her grip when she jumped in fright upon finding a stranger sitting on her bed. “Who are you? Damn it, Raven. I told her to always let me kno- wait a minute.” She stops, blinking. “I know that voice.”

Lexa feels her lips stretch in a smile. It’s an incredible feeling. “Hello, Clarke.” She repeats, rising to her feet and offering her a giant bouquet she retrieves from thin air.

“Oh God,” Clarke whispers, rapidly blinking sudden tears away. “Lexa. Oh my God.”

“Well, technically, yes,” Lexa says, “but we can skip the formalities.”

Clarke’s warm, solid body slams into hers next, and she huffs in surprise, falling down on Clarke’s bed with the girl on top of her, clinging to her. “Lexa,” Clarke sobs. “You’re here. It’s you. You’re here.”  

“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m here. It’s me.”

Clarke’s lips on hers feel better than anything she’s ever experienced, and she’s been around for a little longer than eternity. “I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms,” Clarke whispers when they part, breathing ragged. “You’re so real. So warm, too. Is that – is that how you really look like?”

“Yes,” she gives another affirmative. “I’m not wearing someone’s body. We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Clarke chuckles. “I’m just checking.”

She trails a finger down Lexa’s cheek, slow and tender. Lexa sees the unspoken question in her eyes. She answers with no hesitation. “I’m here to stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Then that means you’re stuck with me forever.”

Lexa laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it’s the other way around. Clarke, I…” she swallows, and Clarke smoothes her thumb over the skin of her throat where it bobs. “If you ever decide to end our – this, I’ll understand. But I’m afraid I’m a little different.”

“Lexa,” Clarke coos, shushing her. She’s still roaming her hands all over her body, and it’s way less sexual than it sounds. She’s simply feeling Lexa. And Lexa’s completely okay with that. “When I said forever, I knew who I was talking to you. It’s not just a word anymore.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to Lexa’s lips. “For us, it’s a reality.”

Lexa’s heart soars when she says ‘for us.’ It jumps and stops and restarts, beating so fast she’s afraid it’ll jump out of her chest.

“A reality,” she whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“And I like your face.” Clarke squints. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

“I’ve exited for millions of years, Clarke,” Lexa reminds her. “I do not have an opinion on beauty, because it is as made up as it is subjective.”

“A concept can’t be made up and subjective at the same time.”

“Let me correct myself, then. I used to think it was made up.” Her smile grows. “Then I met you.”

“You’re so getting lucky tonight, I hope you know that.” Soft lips capture hers, and Lexa gloats.

Suck on this, Luck.

[five-miles-over]

‘Aftermath’ Chapter 12: History Has Its Eyes on You (Commodus x OC)

(image source: @attackofthesith​)

Summary: Emperor Commodus finds a taste of paradise after a long time in his personal darkness. Meanwhile, Petronius and Philomenus take the biggest stand of their lives, determined to bring the republic back and honor the late Caesar.

Word Count: 2,414

Warning: Violence, angst, character death

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

Read Part 9: Be Prepared here

Read Part 10: Twisted Every Way here

Read Part 11: All I Ask of You here

Philomenus never wanted to run. At least that’s what he hoped that people would say when they told his story. 

Approaching the Colosseum with daggers and gladii under his tunic, the centurion had never felt more alive that before. Philomenus kept thinking about how happy Claudia would be to raise their siblings in a republic, how delighted their deceased parents would be with their offspring, and how heroic he would stand in the face of his young twin brother and sister.

For someone who had never participated in a scheme before, deception came rather easily to him. With a few sweet words, Philomenus was able to charm one of the guards into leaving his post and surrendering his uniform. The disguise would definitely fool Commodus, he thought. The next guard would not let Philomenus pass so easily. Not after the centurion tripped and a knife fell from under his tunic with a loud clang. But one quick slash of his sword against the guard’s stomach cleared his way.

As of now, Petronius was the only one who knew about their joint plot, but they would reveal themselves as the assassins once Commodus breathed his last. The two of them would be publicly hailed as the ones who brought Rome back to her true self. The Senators would be eternally grateful to them, and they could all fearlessly honor the Spaniard who spent his life as a soldier of Rome. Finishing what he started, the centurion was confident that the soul of Maximus Decimus Meridius would finally rest in peace. 

The thought of all this was enough for massive mounts of adrenaline to surge within Philomenus. He was going to be fighting for Rome in the biggest stand of his life, defending her honor as he would defend his own mother. 

Petronius was right when he claimed yesterday that it was their responsibility, as comrades of the late Maximus, to exact revenge upon Commodus. The vile man had no regard for the value of human life, taking it as he pleased in the same way a child would throw around its toys. Patricide would have been the only way for Commodus to win the throne; surely Marcus Aurelius would never let his immoral son succeed him. Wisdom, justice, fortitude, and temperance…Commodus never had any of those things, and yet had the nerve to believe he deserved to become the protector of Rome. All because he was born into the household of the late Caesar! 

Spitting into the ground with disgust, Philomenus clenched his jaw hearing the mob chant Commodus’s name from the seats of the Colosseum. And how Commodus would be happily eating up the attention like a dog eats from the bones thrown at him. The only thing that calmed the centurion’s wrath the knowledge that after tomorrow, that very name would be erased from the minds and tongues of Romans everywhere.

————————————————————————————————————————

The Emperor had a youthful glow upon his face when he entered the Imperial Box of the stadium. It was almost as if the Sun took a bit of its own brightness, and showered Commodus in it. 

He had the most perfect morning after a long time. Rather than being disappointed by his nephew’s reluctance at breakfast, the emperor was amused by stories Prince Lucius narrated from his lessons. And instead of being agitated by a night terror, Commodus was awakened by kisses from his bride-to-be. 

Wide-eyed with mildly-disheveled hair, Caesonia innocently brushed her lips along his arm. Blushing while his eyes fluttered open, Commodus held her closer and gently moved his fingers along her back. That glint in his eyes quickly turned lustful when his hand barely reached the curve of her derriere. After they realized the two of them were still naked from the night before, things quickly escalated into another session of sweet lovemaking.

If he closed his eyes now, he could still see her lying in his bed. Her shapely breasts rose and fell while she gasped for air post-coitus.  The sheets barely covered the junction of her thighs, the rest of her body was drenched in sunlight and her limbs were sprawled across the mattress.

The mere sight of her looking at him so lovingly was alluring enough for Commodus to toy with the idea of spending a few more moments in bed. Though her presence was also the reason he didn’t loudly scold the guard who had come to fetch him. 

Not taking his eyes off of his rose for a moment, he began to dress himself in a new set of black armor and silk purple robes. The emperor teased Caesonia that if he could not lay with his beloved one more time, then he ought to be permitted to gaze upon her beauty while he prepared to leave. Hiding her face for a moment, she giggled and hugged her knees close.

Delighted and enamored by her girlish laughter, Commodus gave her one of his togas to wear for the day. He had personally never cared for the garment, considering it fit for old men, but it seemed like the only thing in his wardrobe that a lady could wear. And the toga almost reminded Commodus of their first kiss. Caesonia wore a similar, coarser garment when they walked in the palace gardens and conversed together. He couldn’t believe that moonless evening was only a month ago; it felt as if it had been longer since then. 

Murmuring her thanks, she accepted the toga, as well as his offer to help her put it on. Like young lovers, they exchanged pleasant small talk and spoke of their hopes of many more starlit nights together. Draping the silk around her slender form, Commodus pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and requested for her to rest while he was gone. Now that she was going to be his Empress, he needed her to be healthy and in good condition to accompany him to the Games. At last, Lucilla’s chair would no longer be empty. 

He wasn’t sure about how to introduce her to Lucius. His own nephew was only beginning to warm up to him, and Commodus was concerned about hurting the boy. Assuring himself that Lucius would be amicable with Caesonia, the emperor broke his fast with his nephew. The engaging conversation made the bread taste heartier, and the cheese more flavorful. He even drank less wine, usually turning to the drink in order to fill the silence. Perhaps there was hope for a new family to rid Commodus of his solitude, and shower him with the love that he yearned for so desperately.

And now, here he was, entering the Colosseum to thousands of people chanting his name with adoration. With a wave to the crowd, Commodus was confident that even the gods could not take his happiness away. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Look well into thyself; there is always a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look.”

Petronius nodded in approval. “Is that from one of Caesar’s writings?”

“Yes,” Philomenus replied, smiling with pride like a child who’d perfectly recited his lessons. “We should say something. Like, you know, before we strike.”

The centurion was immediately hushed by his accomplice. It was no secret to the general that announcing themselves was a stupid idea. “If we say too much now, then we may not get a chance to say anything else.” Moreover, Petronius had no interest in listening to words from someone who was reluctant to take action. He would not rest until Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus was dead. 

Relenting, Philomenus slumped against the walls of the tunnel with his weapon in hand. “He’ll come here, right? Not anywhere else?”

“Yes,” Petronius gritted through his teeth, finding himself annoyed with the other man almost as much as he was annoyed by Senator Gaius. That old man kept bombarding him with rebuttals and offering no sympathy for Petronius’s view. Let them wait for Commodus to lose his sanity, he thought to himself, but I cannot. The people of Rome will not wait. Eyes burning with vengeance, the general kept his demeanor calm while his fingers became acquainted with the blade and hilt of one of Philomenus’s weapons. 

Much like Philomenus, Petronius too had a sister who’d be waiting to congratulate him with open arms. But he knew that thoughts of her would be nothing but an obstacle in this quest of his. He needed to remain focused on what he wanted more than anything; the death of the man responsible for destroying Rome. Commodus needed to pay for what he’d done, and he could not bribe with bread and circuses for long. 

The two men stood apart from each other at opposite sides of the tunnel. They hadn’t discussed how they planned to lunge at their target, or whether or not there would be many Praetorians there to stand in the way. Yet, perhaps Commodus would be sufficiently intoxicated by bloodshed, power, and attention from the Games, thus making it easier for him to be killed. Petronius hoped that such would be true, listening intently while the announcer commented on each event of the day. 

Just when their knees began to feel the slightest hint of fatigue, the doors of the tunnel loudly swung open. A herald broke the silence, proclaiming that the Emperor of Rome was to arrive. This was it. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. This was…

“For Marcus Aurelius!!” Philomenus screamed, latching onto Commodus’s shoulder and slashing his sword against the emperor’s armor. Commodus stumbled backwards, taken aback by the sudden mention of his father’s name. Almost immediately, he commanded his Praetorians to take action. Petronius fought the three Praetorians that tried to capture him, disarming them with quick succession. The three of them fell to the ground with fatal wounds to their chests and legs. 

Philomenus continued to duel with the infuriated Commodus, who’d effectively countered each and every blow the general launched. Despite Philomenus’s dagger being paltry against Commodus’s well-fashioned sword, the centurion stood his ground. “You will pay for what you’ve done, Commodus!” He yelled, defiantly calling the emperor by name. 

Commodus said nothing in reply, instead using his might to push Philomenus against the wall and kick the centurion with his knee. Philomenus skillfully dodged Commodus’s attempts to stab him in the chest, continuing to taunt mercilessly. 

Meanwhile, Petronius had managed to fend off the other Praetorians, even kicking one of them in the chest and sending him into the dust. His heart was pounding wildly like a war drum as he continued to attack the other guards standing in the tunnel. 

One of them was able to snatch the weapon away from Petronius, kicking the general to the ground in the same way he’d kicked a Praetorian. Clenching his fists, Petronius spat at the guard and wiped his bleeding nose with a dead Praetorian’s purple cloak. He picked up a stray weapon and retaliated. 

And Philomenus seemed to be using words more than swordplay with the emperor. “You’re nothing but a vile man! You’re nothing! Everyone who’s ever loved you has turned their backs on you!” Commodus continued to say nothing while lunging his attacks, instead resisting the urge to cut off his opponent’s tongue.  

Philomenus kicked Commodus, sending him to the ground while the laurel crown fell off Commodus’s head. The emperor touched his own lip to find it bleeding profusely. With a snarl, he quickly stood back up and gripped his sword again. Only this time, he was attacked from behind by Petronius. 

“This is your chance, Philomenus!” Petronius yelled while he ducked Commodus’s blows. Petronius raised his dagger, preparing to stab Commodus’s neck. Unfortunately, the centurion was too slow. 

Commodus took advantage of Petronius’s fatigue, slashing the general’s ribs through the thin armor. And within the blink of an eye, Petronius collapsed dead. 

The sheer sight of the general’s fall was too much to bear for Philomenus. Before Commodus could turn around, the centurion had sprinted off as if he were running from a fire. The emperor smeared Petronius’s blood onto his face, turning to valiantly face his surroundings like a lion asserting its territory. 

Commodus didn’t know where the man known as “Philomenus” had gone, but he was too dizzy from this near-death experience to interrogate. He vowed to himself to punish that traitor appropriately…for now, though, the emperor fell to his knees and attempted to steady his breathing, so as not to black out from exertion.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

It was just a momentary fear, Philomenus told himself once he was far away from the stadium. He didn’t know what he was thinking, his legs pumping furiously as he ran out of the Colosseum. Rather, Philomenus did not even know if he was thinking in that moment. 

Why would he run now, after thinking so long about how great things would be after Commodus was dead?

Marcus Aurelius would be disappointed, and so would his parents, but…perhaps Claudia would not be so angry. After all, wasn’t she the one who tried to dissuade him from his plan? 

All he needed now was to get home before Commodus could send his men. Philomenus was not unaware of the treatment Maximus’s family received for Maximus’s insubordination. If not the last, his family would not be the next one in Commodus’s reign of terror.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Thank the gods I sent Lucius home with Senator Falco as an escort. Commodus swallowed hard while he watched his nephew go to his chamber without a care in the world, knowing nothing about the attempt on his uncle’s life. He knew the prince wanted to become independent of his family, but Commodus of all people had just witnessed what happens when royals begin to let down their guard. 

With a glare, the emperor ordered one of the Praetorians in the palace to bring his betrothed to him and then immediately lock the doors. His cold gaze burned into her skin as she carefully approached him and wiped the blood off his face. 

Commodus’s inner demons convinced him that there was an equal chance of a surprise assassination attempt as there was of a deceitful bride-to-be. On any other day, he wouldn’t believe those voices. But this was no ordinary day - had he been careless, Rome would be left without a protector. And he would have left his children without a father. 

Gripping her hand and digging his nails into her skin, Commodus ordered her in a shaky yet steely voice. 

“Disrobe, now.”

[ais-for-alex]

The RIDER Nature Reserve: Chapter 2

So I’m probably just going to upload this as I edit which might end up with several chapters a day then nothing for awhile 😄

James Potter was a picture of contentment. Currently he was burrowed into one of the well-worn holes in his parents’ old loved couch, propped up by countless throw pillows and buried somewhere underneath several plush Sherpa lined blankets. Opposite him James younger sister Lily was reading a dense looking book while simultaneously trying to shove her foot into James’s face.

Within the Potter household Wednesday night dinners had become the traditional family gathering once they had all graduated from Hogwarts. Every week they would gather in their parents’ cozy home for their mum's delicious cooking, everyone throwing lighthearted jabs at each other over the dinner table. These had become James favorite night of the week. So far only James and Lily had made it back to their childhood home that night.

Ginny Potter was currently in the kitchen humming tunelessly as she banged pots and pans on the stovetop. Wednesdays were her normal days off from her job as head coach of the Holyhead Harpies, so she had been cooking when James and Lily had arrived not long before collapsing onto their respective sides of the couch.

At the sound of the flue activating James looked up from his warm bubble just in time to see his dad stumble through green flames. Still clad in his velvet Auror robes James noted that his dad seemed a bit disheveled. His dark unruly hair was more of a mess than usual like he had been running his hands through it for the past hour, and unless his eyes deceived him there was more gray shot through his beard than the last time James had seen him.

Harry sighed in relief when the green flames calmed down back to their soft yellow warmth, he paused for a moment warming his hands seemingly lost in thought. James watched his dad pull off the heavy velvet cloak and send it sailing upstairs with a quick flick of his wand. Harry was so distracted he was completely oblivious to the fact that two of his kids were sitting quietly behind him. That is until Lily let out a giant sneeze making Harry jump, his hand twitched towards the wand holstered at his thigh as he turned only to relax back to his side once he saw who it was.

“Sorry, flue powder, always makes my allergies act up,” she said mildly.

“Jeeze! You scared the crap out of me! Out of the three of you, you two are not the ones I expect to be quiet, make a noise every once and awhile, God damn!” Harry said in exasperation placing a hand on his racing heart. Finally calming down Harry sat on the arm of the couch next to Lily, “Why are you guys so quiet anyway? It’s weird.”

Lily looked up from her book for a moment before responding, “I, unlike this overexcited puppy,” she jabbed her socked foot in James’s face again for emphasis “have the capacity to be calm at any given time.”

“I’m sleeeepyyy,” James moaned, pulling a knit blanket over his head.

Harry scoffed at James’s whine, “Speaking of quiet, where’s Al? Not here yet?”

James’s muffled voice came from under the blanket, “That traitor ditched us because Scorp is off from St Mungo’s and he would rather spend the evening shagging his boyfriend rather than enjoying some wholesome family fun with us. That’s what he said right Lil’s?”

“Oh, yeah you got it verbatim, those were his exact words.”

Rolling his eyes Harry leaned over and kissed the top of Lily’s head before standing, “Mum in the kitchen?” he asked only to receive two mild affirmative answers as he headed out of the living room.

“Why are you so tired tonight you weirdo? Normally, you would be forcing us to play exploding snap until dinner, but now you’re just a quivering mass of pathetic over there.”

“Muf mnr smrm” James’s voice came, now completely muffled as he had pulled a pillow under his blankets and on top of his head.

“What?”

“Vmdf kjr fjbvd”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” she groaned, stretching her leg out and lightly kicking her brother in the head knocking the pillow and blanket to the floor.

Sighing dramatically James repeated his statement again, “I said I’m not pathetic you're pathetic.”

“Ooo, what a snappy comeback, totally worth the wait,” She said sarcastically.

“Ugg, I’m just super tired from training,” James said, finally answering her question, “I think my coach is officially trying to kill us. I don’t think I have been this sore since last season’s finals.”

“I don’t know why you guys are training so hard, I mean considering Mums team is going to whoop your arse anyway.”

“Yo! A little support here would be nice!” James cried in outrage that his sister had sided with their Mum rather than himself.

“Meh, I don’t want to inflate your ego. Not that you are short of adoring fans who will do you the honor.”

“Aw come on Lil’s you know that your support is worth what like five of theirs.”

“Only five!? James you have thousands of fans and I am only worth five! I’m your own flesh and blood for fucks sake!”

“Well I mean it is only you, Al and Dad are probably about fifty each but you, your kinda meh.” James laughed at the indignant look of outrage in his sisters’ face then promptly threw one of his pillows at her head.

“Rude!”

From the kitchen they could hear their Mum shout to them, “Offspring! Dinners ready!”

The two got up to head into the kitchen, as they walked James wrapped a strong arm around his sister catching Lily in a headlock.

“Oh, come on,” he said at her now sulking expression “you know I’m kidding.”

Rolling her eyes she replied exasperatedly, “Yeah I know, now get off me you oaf.” She punctuated this with an elbow to the side. The two were still locked in a bit of a wrestling match as they stumbled into the kitchen.

The Potters sans Albus were sitting at their dining table bickering good naturedly, wrapping up the end of their meal together, when a huge gray owl soared in through the open kitchen window and deposited himself on James’s lap. A small smile played at his lips when he noticed the familiar elegant script on the envelope, he gently removed the letter from the bird’s leg who let out a low ‘hoo’ then took off out the window once more.

“Ooo, who’s that from?” Lily asked in a faux scandalized voice, “another admirer?”

“Shut up,” he groaned at her teasing, “it’s from Teddy.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming genuinely interested now, “well go on then, what’s it say? Haven’t heard from him in ages.”

James rolled his eyes at his sister then looked down to read the front of the envelope and scoffed a bit in amusement at the words.

Jamie,

Open With Care

‘Open With Care’ had been his and James’s secret way of letting the other know that their letter was to be opened in private as it contained something sensitive or less than appropriate to read in front of other people.

“Lils, if you want to know what he has to say so badly, write him yourself you twat.” He said gently tucking the envelope into his pocket.

“Rude!” she cried.

“Well,” he said, taking a last sip of wine before getting up from the table, “I think it’s about time I head home. I have an early practice tomorrow.” Harry and Ginny looked up from the hushed conversation they had been having at the other end of the table.

“Hey Jay, wait up” Harry called out, “Before you go I wanted to talk to you all about something.” His dad's eyes darted from James over to where Lily and Ginny were still sitting at the table, his face was grim and pale. James vaguely recalled his mum mentioning his dad had been working extra hours lately on a nasty case and it looked like it was taking its toll on him.

“Alright, what’s up?” James replied sliding back down into his chair.

There was a pause as Harry took a deep breath before speaking, “Jay, I know this will sound a bit weird but I need you to start being a bit more cautious when your alone.” James blinked a bit taken aback by his dad's request but the serious tone with which he spoke made it clear he wasn’t joking. “Strictly speaking I’m not supposed to talk about this but screw it. Over the past couple months the Aurors have been looking into a sting of some pretty grizzly murders. We had another one today, and it's officially been classified as a serial killer.” Not knowing what to say James remained silent hoping his dad would continue speaking. “I don’t really want to go into details but we do know that they are targeting people who seem to have higher than average magical abilities. Now the Auror department has been keeping it under wraps to avoid panic for the moment but it won’t be long before the Profit gets ahold of it. One of the jackasses in the department as dubbed them the Wizarding Reaper.”

There was a beat of silence while Harrys words settled over the table James shot a look over to his sister who shrugged in response before turning back to their dad.

“Uh Ok, I’ll make sure to double my warding and keep an eye out for anything off,” James said, his demeanor serious.

“Thanks kid,” his dad sighed, sagging a bit in relief for a moment before he got up and wrapped James in a hug that quickly turned into a light headlock. Harry rubbed his knuckles into James’s already messy auburn hair, “Now just try not to kill yourself on the pitch and everything will be fine,” his tone had completely changed from that serious one back to his usual joking demeanor.

“Yeah, yeah alright” James said, breaking out from under his dad's arm, “I’ll see you two on Saturday,” he said to his dad and Lily. “And you,” he turned to his mum, “I’ll see you on the pitch,” his voice lowered a bit in a faux challenging tone.

Ginny, never one to be outdone, turned on her best taunting voice, “That you will baby boy, don’t forget to bring some tissues for when you're crying in the locker room after the Harpies demolish you.” His mum’s words would have been cruel but she said them in that same faux challenging tone James had used and had a teasing smile on her face. It was a little tradition of theirs before matches their teams played together, they would go back and forth with smack talk until their taunting insults turned into statements of love.

“Oh, you’re going to be the one crying, sobbing into dads’ shoulder when we put you out of the running for the world cup.”

“We are going to whip your ass, same as I did when you were a child stealing cookies from the kitchen.”

“I still steal cookies, but that’s cause you’re amazing at baking,” James said still in a taunting voice despite the complement.

“Thank you, I left a plate of them on the counter for you.”

“Thanks, love you mum.”

“You’re welcome and I love you too,” the two kept up the charade of acting the bitter rivals their teams were. James slowly crept over to the counter grabbing the plate of home baked cookies she had left all the while meeting her exaggerated glare with his own, an utterly ridiculous attempt at looking intimidating. As he backed out of the kitchen, he paused in the doorway taking two finger pointing to his eyes then pointing to his mum in the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, he then relaxed his posture and waved them all good night before disapparating away to land in his own entryway.

James sighed in relief at finally being home after an extremely long day. His small apartment was sparse with only the essentials to live comfortably only decorated by the occasional bits of Puddlemere United paraphernalia he had picked over the years. With a couple swift wand strokes James reinforced the warding on his front door, then dropped his gym bag full of dirty practice clothes off his shoulder to the floor. Wandering into his small kitchen James slid his plate of cookies onto the counter; he would save them until after the match this weekend. Snagging a water from the fridge he made his way into the living room to flop down onto his old couch.

James pulled Teddy’s letter from his pocket, once again smiling at the familiar writing on the front, he opened the envelope and read its contents, a warm fond feeling spreading through him with every word.

Jamie,

Guess what! One of our dragons is pregnant! Or sort of, she technically incubating her eggs, but still! I am so excited! Charlie has been trying to find her a mate for ages, turns out she took a liking to that dragon I told you about, the one I went to fetch from the U.S a while back. I am so curious to see what the babies will look like, it’s an interesting cross. Anyway, I digress. It’s just so exciting I had to tell you.

So, how’s training going? Your coach still acting like a drill Sergeant? You excited for the match this weekend; I know you’ll do fantastic. I know I’m supposed to support both of you equally but honestly, I hope you beat the Harpies. You’ve been working your arse off, you deserve it. Just don’t let your mum know I said that.

On a side note I got the ‘present’ you sent me, and god damn Jamie are you trying to kill me? God you are so gorgeous I don’t even have words; I will let you know that they have officially been added to my personal spank bank so thank you.

Good luck on Saturday. I know you’ll crush it, I wish I could be there but you know how the ministry is about travel on and off the reserve. I’ll be watching on the live stream though and rooting for you.

-T

P.S. The picture of you polishing your broom was my favorite, that little wink at the end makes my blood go south just thinking about it.

James groaned at the mental image that last comment had invoked. In his last letter to Teddy, James had included a couple risqué pictures that had been taken for the Puddlemere United’s annual charity calendar. The whole team had them done and after his session with the photographer he had been sent several of the shots with instructions to choose which one he would prefer to have in the final product. James had thought he looked silly in most of them so he sent them to Teddy for a second opinion, including the one of himself in only a jockstrap in the team’s colors polishing his broom, as his hands stroked back and forth on the wood suggestively. In the picture his eyes would close as he tipped his head back, mouth open slightly, slowly he turned to the camera with a sultry look then winked as the image looped back to the beginning.

James moaned quietly turned on by the thought of Teddy getting hard and wanking to his picture, the concept was still a bit weird for him to wrap his mind around. He and Teddy had been friends for ages they had practically grown up together.

Teddy had always been James’s person, the one he could confide in or complain to about his siblings or even just hang out with and enjoy each other’s company. Through James’s last couple of years at Hogwarts Teddy had been working to finish his Auror training but just before he was due to be inducted as an official Auror Teddy decided that ultimately it just wasn’t the job for him. The constant strain of being surrounded by dark wizards, surrounded by murderers and rapists, it had worn on his mental state.

Eventually Teddy settled down in a position working at the Nature Reserve James’s uncle Charlie ran, and he absolutely loved it. That had been in the last year before James graduated, after Teddy left for Romania, they began writing to each other and they were just as they had always been, friends.

This last Christmas though Teddy had come home. He had only been back a handful of times since leaving and it had been years since James had seen his best friend face to face. That Christmas Eve though James had opened his parent’s front door and was greeted to the sight of Teddy, his turquoise hair lightly dusted in snow and smiling brighter than the sun. In a split-second James’s entire demeanor changed though normally energetic he seemed to almost start vibrating with excitement.

Teddy had the good sense to drop his duffle bag quickly as James nearly tackled him in a bearhug. The two men stumbled backwards across the Potters front deck from the momentum until they fell backwards into a snowbank. Teddy hugged back just as enthusiastically, causing them to roll in the snow until he was straddling James' hips. Both of them were laughing heartily ecstatic to finally see each other again Teddy stood up and pulled James up from the snow with enough force to lift him off his feet and spin around. James locked his arms around Teddy’s strong form not wanting to let go as they stood now completely soaked and cold from the snow.

Still in Teddys strong hold James breathing in deeply, intoxicated by the crisp smell of fresh cut pine, campfire smoke, and strong coffee that seemed to cling his skin. Suddenly the porch light flicked on making the men look up, Harry was standing in the open doorway having come to investigate to cold breeze leaking into the house as James hadn’t bothered to close the door when he tackled his best friend. The two began laughing again at the silliness of rolling around in the snow in subzero temperatures then headed back towards the house where Harry was still watching with an amused look on his face.

After the onslaught of warmth and greetings from the rest of the Potters it was like Teddy had never left at all. He effortlessly fit back into their family easily slipping into each conversation on quidditch with James and his mum, Albus and Scorpius’s deep discussions about wizarding folklore and how bits of it could fit into their D&D campaign, he talked Ministry politics with Harry and even seemed to take an interest in Lily’s newfound love of all things Muggle as she had decided to seek further education at a Muggle university. Throughout the night James could feel Teddy's eyes frequently coming to land on him, he would look up to find Teddy staring a small grin playing on his lips as he held the eye contact before turning back to his conversation leaving James feeling warm from his gaze.

Back when Teddy had left neither he nor James had anything other than friendship in mind, each was preoccupied with their own struggles. Teddy trying to make it work with the Aurors and James still in school then starting his own career in the Quidditch world after graduation. That Christmas eve though felt different somehow, their eyes seemed to always find each other, leaving behind a charged feeling in their stomachs. It was odd after being friends for forever neither was sure what to do with this new energy that seemed to be pulling them together.

Their evening was filled with friendly familiar chatter until everyone was exhausted and ready to head home into bed. Teddy was chatting with Harry and disclosed that he hadn’t really thought too much about where he would be staying while he was in England. At that exact moment James had been meandering by the couch, not eavesdropping on their conversation at all, when he plopped down and slung his arm around Teddys neck insisting he stay at his flat.

They left the holiday festivities soon after that, both collapsing into a heap on the old beaten up couch in James' sparse living room. For the first time in years they had the freedom to tell each other everything that never translated well into letters. The night wore late as they spun tales of their lives, talking animatedly about quidditch and dragons sharing the last years of their lives with one another.

Teddy had been telling a captivating tale about one of his coworkers who had gotten a bit too comfortable around one of the dragons and ended up getting his arm torn off, however, James wasn’t listening. Teddy had pushed up his shirtsleeve revealing intricate tattoos that swirled and moved with the motion of his arm and James was utterly distracted. His eyes traced the magically moving ink from where it began at the wrist up his forearm until it disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt.

Eventually Teddy stopped talking, realizing that James was no longer paying attention to his words, the silence prompted James to let his gaze wander slowly back up to Teddys face, bits of glinting metal caught in the dim light as he finally met his burning eyes. James watched in awe as Teddy’s eyes darkened from their natural hazel color to a deep midnight blue with lust. He barely had a moment to gasp at the intense look before Teddy’s mouth was on his, body pressing him back into the worn couch cushions. They moved together gasping, moaning, James whimpered at the feeling of skin on skin. Mouths sliding together, hands exploring, both trying to get as close to the other as possible. The next morning, they woke in bed Teddy had wrapped himself around James’s body every inch pressed together both filled with warmth and contentment.

Even now laying alone in his flat, if he closed his eyes James could almost still feel the tingling trails of Teddys fingers caressing his body as they talked that morning. The two ultimately deciding against starting anything more between them, after all Teddy would leave in a couple days back to Romania and James would once again throw himself into Quidditch training, there was no point. So, from that point they went back to normal, aside from the occasional salacious fantasy they were simply friends.

James had gotten caught up in the memory of that night when he looked up at the time it was nearly one in the morning and he had to get up early for practice. With another dramatic groan he pushed up from the couch and headed to bed.

Read on ao3

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[u-adskinaesthetic]

Short Story:                                  Solitude

“What to do, what to do?” Emilia asked herself as she slowly paced around her apartment. The sound of rain strongly hammering down against the complex, was enough to get her up and running in the early morning. It was her day off and she decided it was best to take her time and relax from her stressful job. The smell of freshly made coffee, lingered throughout the room, it was comforting in a sense. It was a nice day; anti-stressful one could say. A day where naps could occur, and work was no longer a worry. The perfect definition of ‘Pure Bliss.’

 “Nothing.” She lazily sat on her couch exhaling tiredly, her brain unable to rack up any suitable activities for her to do. It was at least eight-thirty in the morning, and the sun refused to shine due to the storm clouds. Nope, just the pitter pattering of rain thundering throughout the city.

 Emilia continued to doze off, unsure of what she could do to entertain herself. Perhaps she could do some work ahead of time, maybe then an idea could pop into her head and she wouldn’t have to think so hard anymore. But she decided against it. She always did work ahead of time, but no matter how much she got done, the load never refused to end. Which is why this time she’ll force herself to do something she desired today, although, the problem was what?

 Before doing anything, she got up and poured herself a nice cup of coffee to drink. It was a nice taste, certainly divine to the senses, yet nothing different from what she had before. It was just plain and black. As she took a few sips of the hot brew, she eventually decided the best thing for now was to get dressed. With the way she looked, she was sure many would jump in fright. Her disheveled hair all over the place, her wrinkled night clothing that looked very big on her, and her face that just screamed fatigued. If anyone were to see her like this they would think she’s partially dead.

 It didn’t take long for her get ready. Certainly, it took a few minutes or so till she came looking out fresh and new. “That’s better.” Now that she had her coffee and looked as tasty as a peach, she could finally do something that is somewhat mildly productive.

 Maybe, she could watch some tv, and bundle up into her favorite blanket?

 She could try and do some baking! she’s never done it before, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

Or she could do some work today, that sounded something that wa-

 She shook her head profusely at the idea of spending time working in all day. Sure, she could profit from it, but she’d end up just overworking herself again. If that were that case, which it is, then what was there that she could possibly do to pass the time?

 *Ring, Ring*

 “Who could be at the door, this early?” She mumbled to herself as she walked towards the sound, peering through the keyhole in the process. From what she could make out, it looked like a mail man carrying a box with holes outside it. Holes? Why would the box contain holes? 

But the box wasn’t her main concern here.

 She was absolutely positive that she didn’t order anything in the past few weeks. She already did so beforehand. But if that were the case, then how come this unknown individual was standing outside her apartment?

 *Ring, Ring*

 The button was pushed once more, probably to double check if anyone was at home. Emilia’s curiosity getting the better of her, decided to open the door for this fellow. She was soon met with a tall, but skinny man. To her, he looked like he was in college, possibly working this job to pay for his expenses. Man college, those horrible years.

 “E-excuse me Mam, this package was supposed to be delivered to a person named Emilia. Are you perhaps her?” The boy spoke a little hesitantly as he read the name off the clipboard. She could see him trying his hardest not to crack his voice.

 “Ahh yes, that is me.” She responded.

 “Perfect, I’m going to need you to sign this for me please.” The boy handed her the box quickly. She almost dropped it due to how the boy clumsily handed it so her. As the boy proceeded to get out his clipboard and pen, the box that Emilia her arms shook with a tiny force. The box would’ve plunged to the ground if it were not for her holding it tightly against her, as spooked as she was.

 “If you could sign here and here and there.” The mailman pointed at the locations where she needed to sign. She did this action briskly, so that she may gaze inside the box. As she finished scribbling out her signatures the boy spoke a quick ‘thank you’ and left hastily.

 “How strange.”

 Closing the door, she began walking to the center in her dainty living room, placing the box down on top of the carpet. Her fingers went to open the handle of the box, though retracted it with a hurry as it shook furiously again. “Come one Emilia, don’t such a wuss.” With a flick of the wrist she opened the box with a newfound courage.

 In an instant, her eyes were met with a tiny kitten who was placed inside. It’s fur was a beautiful snow white, and its eyes were colored as polished silver. It mewed cutely at her, and hopped out the box elegantly. “What in the world?” Confused, she looked at it strangely. The kitten began to rub up against her leg, purring as it did so. She didn’t order a kitten, or a pet for that matter. She then shook the box to see if anything else was evident in it.

 A note folded in half fell to the ground in front of her. ‘Just a note? How peculiar,’ she thought. Deciding to read it she picked it up and began out loud.

 Dear Emilia, This is grandma writing,

As you know I am getting rather old, and my time here is very limited. I have enjoyed my life here on this planet, as sucky as it may be, it brought me a lot of good memories.

Your mother has told me that you are always busy. She says you are so caught up in your work  that you barely know how to have any fun.

I tell you, back in my day when I was younger, I was the little deviant. I would cause trouble for everybody, and though I might get in trouble, I never stopped. And I never will so long as I die. So as a person getting older by the second I just wanted to say, you are one of my most boring grandchildren I have ever had.

I still love you very much my darling, to me you and your siblings are the most precious things in my world.

That being said, I have decided to give you a little gift in hopes that you could someday be as cool as your grandma here. Perhaps this gift can focus you on other things rather than work.

  I hope you enjoy.

 Love,

Grandma

 Oh and by the way, her name is Crystal. She is a very special cat from what I heard. Do please take care of her.

 Emilia chuckled as she read the note given to her. It was true that she was not very exciting, which was why not many wanted to hang out with her. She glanced over at the kitten who was now asleep beside her. She would have to get a all the necessities no doubt, and a nametag to show that she is already owned.  

“I guess I do have something to do today after all.” She commented softly as she petted the kitten’s white fur.

Note: Please do not be afraid to criticize my work harshly. I would highly appreciate if any pointers or tips would be given out to make my writing better. I enjoy writing very much, and I would like the skills I need to polish my writing. Thank you. 

[ravenforce]

Manhattan 2

Word Count: 3583

Warning/s: None. (Would you believe that? Lol.)

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who likes, and follows this story. You guys are amazing. Please leave your reactions, bloody or otherwise, on the comment section. My inbox is open too if you’d like to pop by. Oh, and please note the ff:

1. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

2. Since you’re already reading this part. Please, be careful out there. Protect yourself from NCOV. Wear a mask if you’re going outside. Wash your hand regularly, and bring alcohol everywhere you go. Take your vitamin C seriously, and stay hydrated. If you feel flu-like symptoms, get yourself checked by experts. Don’t self-medicate. The world is a better place because you’re here. Stay with me. Xx

Manhattan Parts: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8  | 9

*** 

The Morning After - Lou’s POV

Lou can faintly see that the sun is already up and peaking through her curtains. Rather than get up, she shut her eyes tighter, the events of the night prior rushing to the forefront of her brain. She sighed happily as she remembers how soft you were against her hands, how obedient you were, and how beautiful you sound begging her to go faster, harder, and most especially when you screamed her name. She groaned when she remembered how you moaned as you come undone in her mouth and hands. She rolled on her back like she’s been struck by lightning when she remembers how you look in her bed, sated and peaceful.

She was disappointed when she found your spot on the bed empty. She sighed, no one leaves her in bed. It is her that always leave, and the other party begging her to stay but she never does. She sat up, she decided she’s not gonna wallow and think that you leaving is some sort of karma for every girl she left satisfied, yet heartbroken. She decided she’s going to shower because you both did plenty of dirty stuff last night, and then she’s gonna come downstairs to find her brothers and their merry gang of beautiful misfits and have breakfast with them.

Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, dark jeans, and black boots, Lou barged into the service kitchen where she knew everyone was holing after a night of partying.

“Good morning, children,” she greeted happily. Amidst being disappointed about your departure, she’s still positively lighter. 

The soft morning conversation came to a stop. It took a minute for everyone to process her presence, that Lou, their big sister is home for once. She’s rarely home ever since she opened the art gallery, The Heist, in Manhattan with Debbie, Daphne, and the crew.

“Sestra,” Loki greeted when Lou rounded the corner towards the coffee machine. “Your after-sex-glow can be seen from outer space.”

The Avengers choked on their breakfast items, Loki and Lou started laughing. 

“Loki!” Thor admonished after successfully gulping down his french toasts. 

“What? She looks great!”

“You could have gone with that,” Tony complained, blushing profusely and pointedly not looking at Lou. They’ve all been close to her, growing up with the boys but they still don’t like being privy to Lou’s sexual affairs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Loki, ever the sassiest, said. 

Thor watched his big sister for a minute, and the three of them have been closed enough to know that Loki’s right. Lou’s definitely glowing. 

“Please tell me you didn’t pick up a random college girl from the party last night,” Thor said warned jokingly. 

Lou smirked and intentionally didn’t answer the question as she makes her coffee.

“Lou?” Thor asked, squinting his eyes at his sister’s back. 

Lou turned around to look at her blonde sibling with an infuriating smile on her face. 

“Well,” she started, intentionally pausing a beat or three to annoy her brother. “I didn’t actively look for her. She stumbled on my lair, what am I supposed to do?”

Loki and the rest of the gang laughed, while Thor continued mumbling and complaining about having to look at the poor girl sulking at school because the legendary Lou Odinson won’t pick up their calls.

”Besides, how am I supposed to walk away from her? She’s breathtaking,” Lou said with genuine fondness. 

***

Heavy Breakfast - Your POV

Before everyone can grill Lou on who she slept with, you barged in the service kitchen looking slightly dishevelled and with a deep frown on your face. The conversation dropped, while the tension rises. Everyone looked surprised that you’re on-site, their collective gaze fell on Nat and Carol in an instant. The two looked terrified and wholly unprepared for your arrival. They still haven’t quite polished exactly what they wanted to stay, even though they’ve been trying to reach you since the sun started to rise.

“God, Odinsons’ your house is insane,” you said dramatically.

“I went outside to make a phone call, and I got lost on the way back,” you ranted before looking up from your phone and quickly looked at your friends. 

Your perfectly constructed poker face nearly slipped when you saw Lou standing behind Tony and Maria by the coffee maker. She looked mildly surprised but more entertained at the idea of being in the same room as you and the two women she helped you forget - temporarily - last night. You held back the urge to roll her eyes at her. 

“You’re not the first to complain about that,” Lou quipped. “I told the boys to put up signs but I guess they’re both lazy idiots.”

You cracked a smile remembering how she called her brothers that last night before threatening to beat them up, assuming they made you cry. Tony and Maria caught the smile, no matter how small it was and quirked an eyebrow.

“Putting up signs around the house is ridiculous,” Thor complained as you walk towards the coffee machine. 

“Not to mention tasteless,” Loki backed his big brother up. 

Lou handed you her mug of coffee before starting a fresh brew. Thor and Loki stopped talking in an instant, as everyone watches you drink from Lou’s cup. You let out an ungodly moan as you let Lou’s perfectly brewed black coffee with two sugars wash over you, and warm you inside out. Your friends are watching the two of you like hawks. You can hear the cogs in their heads turning, piecing every action and reaction together.

Any minute now, you thought.

“You look good in my shirt,” Lou commented, full-on grinning now. 

“Holy shit,” Tony exclaimed. 

“What?!” Thor yelled as he stumbles out of his stool. 

You just shrugged before turning to your friends. You don’t care much that they know. You’ll tell them eventually, anyway. You just worry that you sleeping with Lou will change your dynamics with Thor and Loki. Wanda looked surprised while Maria looks worried for a second, she knows you best. So, she knows you slept with Lou as a coping mechanism.

Loki and Tony look impressed while Thor looks like he’s still processing but he doesn’t look angry. Nat and Carol looked pissed as hell.

“You slept with Lou?” Nat asked, voice clearly on edge. You frowned, not liking the tone she’s using. “Why?”

“Because I can,” you answered simply, voice neutral. “And I wanted to. Last time I checked I’m free to do whatever and whoever I want.”

“We know we fucked up last night,” Carol started to say. “But this retribution is brutal.”

You can feel your blood starting boil at that. You wanted to yell that you didn’t sleep with Lou as revenge for them kissing Steve and Val, you did it for you. You did it to forget, sure but you did it also because you’re attracted to the woman for fuck sake. You wanted to scream so many things, some of them probably spiteful but you weren’t able to as Lou’s warm, soft hand landed purposely on the small of your back. Everyone caught the action, Nat and Carol’s frown dipped deeper as they watch all your anger dissipate. 

“I can’t do this right now,” you sighed before putting Lou’s mug on the sink next to you. 

Lou just nodded at you before stepping away from her. You walked towards Maria and Wanda before planting a soft kiss on both their cheeks with a soft promise that you’ll explain everything soon enough. You walked towards the Odinson boys next, pulling them both out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Once out of everyone’s prying eyes, you tugged the boys into a hug which they immediately reciprocated, sandwiching you between them.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” you whispered. Thor’s hand landed on the small of your back, while Loki placed his around your shoulder. “I hope we’re cool?”

The boys can hear the worry and hesitation on your voice. Loki smiled at you, before tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “I’m cool with whatever you and Lou are up to. I ship it.”

You smiled at the raven-haired boy before turning towards Thor.

“I don’t understand it but it’s not my business. I just hope you understand what you’re getting into,” Thor said, worry lacing his voice.

The truth is, he secretly ships it as well but he knows her sister’s reputation in New York. She’s been living in Manhattan for a couple of years now, and never had Lou ever dated anyone seriously. He knows her sister’s not the relationship type. She beds girls that caught her interest for a small amount of time until she gets bored or until the girls started developing real feelings for her; then Lou bolts.

She doesn’t care how long the arrangement has gone, if romantic feelings are involved, she’s out. She doesn’t care much if it hurts. For their sister, it’ll hurt worse if she pretends she can give them something she couldn’t. For their sister, it’ll only hurt worst in the long run because what she gives won’t be enough. Lou has been leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere she goes that’s why Thor worries about you.

You sighed happily. All things considered, you know you’re gonna be okay now that you’ve secured your friendship with the Odinson boys. You were about to leave when the door opened revealing Nat and Carol.

“Wait, Y/N. Please stay,” Nat pleaded. 

“Let us explain,” Carol added. “Let us try and fix this, please.”

You wanted to ignore both of them but the sadness in their voice stopped you on your track. You turned towards them and saw the two woman you truly adore nearly in tears. 

“I can’t,” you started. Nat and Carol visibly deflated. “Not right now. I need to go home and get ready. I have an interview for the internship program. We’ll talk after, I promise.”

“Okay,” they answered smiling softly at each other.

At that moment, you decided that there’s no point holding on the hurt and anger. No matter what, you still love Nat and Carol but you decided you’re not gonna be a player in their game anymore. When you met the two, you knew they still have feelings for each other but they’re too stubborn to admit it, yet you still willingly played. You decided though that if you can’t be with them, you’ll help them get who they deserve.

No more running away. No more mind games, no more using other people to make each other jealous. No one else is gonna get hurt, just because Nat and Carol can’t be honest with each other but that’ll have to wait after your interview. 

***

The Heist - Lou’s POV

“You’re late,” Daphne stated the obvious as Lou walked in leisurely in the conference room two hours after she’s supposed to be in.

Debbie noted the soft smile on her best friends face but said nothing. Lou just shrugged as she plopped down on her designated chair beside Debbie.

“I’m sorry,” Lou said but didn’t offer any other explanation.

She didn’t really have to explain how she stayed up all night just to make you come undone. She didn’t really have to explain how she offered to drive you home as an excuse to spend more time with you. She didn’t feel like sharing how she drove leisurely back to Manhattan because a part of her wants to stay in Ithaca, and risked being teased by her friends for immediately having a soft spot for a girl she barely knew.

9Ball looked up from her laptop to regard Lou for a moment, then every one to check if they’re seeing exactly what she’s seeing.

“At least one of us had a good weekend,” 9ball said with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with an after-sex-glow, like ever,” Tammy said making everyone laugh and Lou to roll her eyes playfully.

“Agreed,” Debbie seconded.

“See, even Debbie agrees,” Constance said, “So who’s the lucky girl?”

“There’s no girl,” Lou lied. She knows that Debbie can tell she’s lying but she doesn’t care. She’s not ready to share you with her vulture friends yet.

Before anyone can call her out on her bullshit, the gallery secretary, Charlie poked her head in the conference room.

“She’s here,” she said looking at Debbie.

“Saved by the bell,” Amita teased, prompting everyone to start giggling again. Debbie shushed them after a minute. Charlie who has been working in the gallery since it opened didn’t bat an eye on her bosses weird antics. She just waits patiently for instructions.

“Send her in,” Debbie instructed before Charlie nodded and scurried away to get the last interviewee for the gallery intern position. Whoever gets the job will join her, and the second gallery assistant, Kurt at the bottom of the corporate ladder.

Lou looked at her best friend with a silent question but before she can answer, the door opened and the applicant walked in.

***

The Interview - Your POV

You stopped dead on your tracks when you saw Lou, while the other paled a little.

Holy shit, you thought to yourself.

When Lou said she’s a businesswoman, it didn’t occur to you that she might be the owner of the art gallery you’re applying for an internship. You internally cursed the alcohol you consumed the night before for missing dead giveaways that Lou owns the Heist, like the number of artworks and art pieces in her home office, or the magazines on her coffee table featuring her and her crew. 

You were pulled away from your internal musing when 9Ball jumped out of her chair to tackle you softly in a hug. 

“Y/N!!” 9Ball exclaimed as she rubs her pretty face on the side of yours. Lou frowned at the action.

“You know each other?” Lou asked carefully keeping her voice neutral. 

9Ball extricated herself from your person before dragging you to the table. “This is Y/N Y/L/N, she’s my friend from MIT. She’s eighteen when we graduated uni,” 9Ball bragged. 

“We know, nine. We read her file” Rose said smiling.

Lou frowned because she doesn’t know, she forgot to read your file. She meant to do it yesterday but well, she met you instead. Though she knows things about you, it would be inappropriate for her to divulge them in this interview. She had to bite her lips to stop herself from smiling, thinking about all the tiny details she knows about that isn’t in your resume. Daphne caught her though but decided it’s not the time to discuss what’s going on. 

“Y/N you’ve been vouched by Nine, and your credentials are spot on,” Debbie started to say, using her CEO voice. “So I’m wondering why you still want to do this interview rather than just get the job?”

You smiled up at your potentially new boss. You can easily see that Debbie is the level-headed one in their group. 

“I work great with Nine. You all work great with Nine but that doesn’t mean you will work great with me,” you said softly, confusing everyone some more. 

“I need you to assess me as a person, not just my credentials.” You paused to let that information sink in. 9Ball looks at you with pride in her eyes. 

“I’m great in the paper, sure. I possess the technical qualities to perform an excellent job, but I believe all of it is to go to waste if you find my personality doesn’t match yours.”

Smart. Debbie noted on your resume without breaking eye contact. She smiled at you, clearly impressed. She looked around the table to assess her team’s reaction, and by the happy look on their faces, she knew they liked you as well. Everyone was enamoured by you if their attempts to engage you in a conversation all at the same time is to go by. 

“What do you think?” she whispered towards Lou. 

Lou didn’t take her eyes off you as she answers. “I think she’s perfect…for the job,” Lou caught her slipped up early on but by the look on Debbie’s face, she knew she caught it.

Debbie cleared her throat to draw everyone’s attention back to her. She looked at you intensely, the pregnant pause is giving you anxiety. “Y/N, when do you think you can start the job?”

You heaved a great sigh of relief. “Can you give me until next week to find an apartment, move, and get settled?”

Debbie nodded before standing up, walking to you and shaking your hand.“Welcome to the Heist,” she said smiling. Then everyone came over to congratulate you and give you hugs, except Lou.

***

You were standing at the side of the gallery entrance, texting Maria the good news when someone stood toe-to-toe with you. You’ve seen that boots this morning but you opted to finish your text with Maria before looking up at Lou.

“Would you prefer if I turn down the job?” you asked tentatively. You’re a little worried that she didn’t come over to congratulate you awhile ago.

“What?! No! Unless you don’t think you can’t work with me,” she teased. You laughed softly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ms Odinson.”

“Miller,” she said. You tilted your head confused. “I don’t use Odinson here. It attracts too much-unwanted attention.”

You wanted to make a joke about how such a face would attract a lot of attention but the seriousness in her voice prompted you to let it go.

“Well don’t flatter yourself, Ms Miller,” you corrected yourself, trying to imitate the way she talks. Lou laughs at your antics. You’re such a child but instead of running for the hills, she’s craving you more and more.

“Anyway, do you have plans tonight? Thought maybe since you’re here, we can celebrate.” Lou wanted to smack herself for being unable to resist vomiting her words. She doesn’t do nervous but something about asking you out, platonic or otherwise, feels daunting to her.

“I can’t tonight. I promised Maria and Wanda I’ll be home for dinner,” you said with a frown. “And you know I promised Natasha and Carol we’ll talk too.”

Lou mirrored your frown. Something about you, and Nat, and Carol in one sentence ruin her good mood. “Okay. Some other time, maybe?”

“Now, who can’t get enough of who?” you teased, effectively eradicating the frown on the blonde woman’s face.

“Shut up.”

You laughed. She started laughing too while hailing a cab for you. When the famous yellow car pulled up on the curb next to you, you bid her farewell. You stopped before entering the vehicle to look at her.

“Maybe you can help me warm my new apartment soon.”

It wasn’t a question. It’s an offer, and Lou knows it.

She smiled broadly at you.

“It’s a date,” she said before the yellow taxi rolled you away.

Taglist:  @kaytoopio​​​ @marvelfansince08love​​​ @marvelb00kwolf​​​ @shycucumbersandwich​​​ @subject7creed​​ @inkstainedhandsofgold​

[saiilorstars]

The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 30: Running To You  

// Story Masterlist //

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC (new face claim alert!)

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Chapter summary: The Doctor has made the worst possible mistake a Time Lord can make. He can't bring himself to face Renata even when she's so close to death so when he gets pulled back to Earth to face the Master one last time before his death, the Doctor takes it without a second though. But would Renata ever let him run on his own again?

6 months after Gabby's unveiling.

The Doctor had heard the screwdriver ping several times but there was so much going on. At first, he didn't answer because there was a unique distress call coming from Mars. He told himself he'd only pop in, make sure everything was going according to Time, and then he would see what Gabby needed. But when what he finally thought the Mars trip was a done deal, things went terribly wrong. He'd gone too far on his own. He always knew that he couldn't be alone, but he still fell. And this time he'd fallen too deep to be rescued. The bells were ringing and death was coming for him.

It scared him to the bone. How could he face Renata after his monumental screw up? She was always so proper, so law abiding, and he had broken their biggest law. She would hate him. She would hate him for real this time.

But the sonic kept pinging, and pinging…

With another sigh, Gabby lowered the sonic in her hand and looked back to where the glowing golden energy was swallowing up her friend. "He's not answering," she shook her head.

Zhe was at Renata's bedside, gripping Renata's left hand while the Time Lady writhed in pain. "I don't think she's going to last much longer."

Gabby bit her lower lip until she drew blood. Zhe was absolutely right. She didn't understand why the Doctor wasn't calling back. The few times that she'd paged him, he'd been very dutiful and returned the call within minutes. What could he possibly be doing right now that was more important than Renata!?

"C-can't hold it…" Renata groaned loudly and twisted her body to each side every minute. "I'm going to…"

"Don't use up your energy," Zhe tried calming her by passing her hand through Renata's hair. She didn't pull away when she realized how damp Renata's hair had become.

"There's no energy left!" Renata cried out in pain. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think of anything but her impending death. She could feel it this time. It was a proper ending. Her entire body was on fire and unlike all the times before, she wasn't expelling it on the spot. Her head was pounding too. The Time Vortex inside her was making everything in her mind feel like it was being crammed. That was definitely new too. The Time Vortex was mixing, at the very least, with the other energy invading her body and if she didn't regenerate then it would be a real, proper death.

Gabby's heart broke hearing her friend crying in what had to be agonizing pain. She rushed to Renata's other side and took her hand, gripping it as tightly as Zhe was. "You'll be okay, I promise!"

Renata forced herself to open her eyes and see Gabby for the last time. "Oh Gabriella, this is it. This is my goodbye."

"No, no, don't say that," Gabby's eyes filled with tears. "The Doctor probably has a cure already and he's on his way."

"There's nothing left to do," Renata hissed as she felt a new piercing pain cutting through her stomach. "I'm...I'm not sure about regeneration so...so I just...need to thank you for being here. Both of you," she glanced at Zhe. "I don't want to die alone. The last time I died, I did it all by myself and I died during the war. I think maybe that's why this life was never a good one. I died in a war and I was reborn from a war. This life was useless. I never knew how to live happily. I was a nuisance."

"No you weren't," Gabby wanted Renata to laugh with her, to banter until Gabby could convince Renata that she was a good person.

Renata scrunched her face and whimpered. "I don't want to die without the Doctor. I had hope that…" she swallowed hard, "I had hope that maybe I would get a second chance..." Her body seemed to jerk forwards but she didn't have the strength to actually sit up. Instead, gold energy wafted from her body. Renata wanted to hope that it was regeneration energy trying to heal her body. "I need the Doctor," she closed her eyes as tears pooled in them, "I want him here with me. I want him holding my hand, telling me that he's going to make everything better even though I would argue that he couldn't. I want him here…" She gagged only to release more energy. "I need him here...I love him."

"Oh Ren," Gabby felt a deep fury ripple through her at the Doctor's tardiness. Where the hell was he!? Renata looked like a scared kid. Gabby didn't know what to do.

But then she heard something from a distance...a wheezing noise…

Gabby's anger was forgotten in a snap when she heard the beautiful noise of the TARDIS. "Oh he's here! Renata, he's here!" she left a sloppy kiss on Renata's hand and dashed for the door. "Doctor! Doctor!" she yelled all the way down the hall, and to the TARDIS. But she nearly crashed into the door when somebody opened it inches from her face. Gabby fervently shook her head and blinked fast to get her sight back. When she did, she saw who had come. "...Doctor?"

~0~

Earth, 2010.

He was back.

He was back and he was ready to cause havoc wherever he went.

The Doctor thought himself a quick-paced man most of the time. But right now, as he chased after the Master, he seemed like the slowest man in the universe.

The Master - mighty disheveled and even crazier than the last time he'd shown up - ran through a dumpsite. He roared with all his might, letting his voice echo through the dumpsite, before he leaped into the air and landed on a pile of dirt. He stood on his spot, laughing maniacally, and allowed the Doctor to witness his newest abilities. Electricity as it seemed, crackled and shifted his body to a skeleton for a brief moment.

"Please, let me help! You're burning up your own life force!" the Doctor begged to him in vain. The Master jumped off the mountain of trash and continued to run. The Doctor intended on doing the same thing but he was suddenly surrounded by humans.

Wilfred Noble was responsible for it. He'd engineered an entire search party to find the Doctor, and Renata, and was glad to have found at least one of them. The Doctor was bombarded by everyone suddenly around him. He wanted to keep following the Master but it was no use. He was long gone. Now he had to deal with Wilf, and a handsy human. Eventually, he gave in and followed Wilf to some cafe shop more close to the city. With any luck, he might get an idea on how to better catch the Master. His mind spiraled with so many thoughts.

Wilf was nervous pi is himself and that mildly grabbed the Doctor's attention. "I keep seeing things, Doctor, I...this face at night." He continued having horrible nightmares at night, nightmares that seemed relentless to terrify him each night. He didn't know what else to do but find the Doctor and Renata and get them to help him and everyone else having the same nightmares.

"Who are you?" the Doctor suddenly asked him, fixating a suspicious gaze on the man.

"I'm Wilfred Mott," Wilf answered with a light smile.

"No, people have waited hundreds of years to find me and then you manage it in a few hours." The Doctor didn't want to point out that not even Gabby had managed to find him and she had Renata and the sonic. Sometimes, a coincidence isn't one at all.

"Well, I'm just lucky, I s'pose," Wilf gave a light shrug of his shoulders.

"No, we keep on meeting, Wilf. Over and over again, like something's still connecting us."

"Yeah, but what's so important about me?"

"Exactly. Why you?" the Doctor muttered not so quietly and he knew it. If Renata was around, she would've scolded him for being blatantly rude. Renata. His hearts ached knowing that she was so far away from him and...that he might not see her again. This him had expended all his time and what had he done with it? Nothing. He hadn't found anything to help Renata, not even a bit. She was in agonizing pain and right now he wasn't even dedicating his time to find a cure for her. The Master was using that up. He was using his last moments to find the Master.

"Doctor, I've been meaning to ask," Wilf unknowingly yanked the Doctor out of his thoughts. "Where's Renata? I thought she'd be round by that box of yours." But she had yet to make an appearance.

Something flashed over the Doctor's face and Wilf wasn't sure if it was guilt or despondence. Either way, it was grim and overwhelming the Time Lord.

"I'm going to die," the Doctor finally confessed. If he was lucky, Wilf wouldn't completely grasp the implications...not like Renata would, or even Gabby. He had come across the final warning that his ending was near just after making the biggest mistake of his life. He'd crossed the line and this was his punishment.

"Well, so am I, one day," Wilf said, not truly understanding like the Doctor assumed.

"Don't you dare," he warned, almost finding it in him to chuckle.

"All right, I'll try not to."

The Doctor inhaled deeply and leaned his arms over the table. "Renata is far away right now. She's sick and I was supposed to help her, but I haven't been able to live up to my word. No, instead I went out and did something really bad. Something that, if someone had been with me like Renata, maybe I wouldn't have done at all." That's who he was, somebody who couldn't be on his own anymore. The darkness inside him only waited for his friends to leave in order to come out and wreck things.

"Where is she?" asked Wilf out she curiosity and concern.

"On a planet very far away from here." The Doctor exhaled heavily. "I was told. 'He will knock four times.' That was the prophecy. Knock four times, and then…"

"But I thought when I saw you before, you said your people could change, like, your whole body…?"

"I can still die. If I'm killed before regeneration, then I'm dead. Even then. Even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away. And I'm dead." And a new man will go and find Renata and give her what he couldn't. Maybe the next him would find the cure and heal Renata, like a true doctor.

"Hmm…" Wilf's gaze drifted to the window, specifically at something across the street.

"What?" the Doctor picked up on it and followed Wilf's gaze out the window. There he saw his best friend, Donna Noble, heading down the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry. But I had to. Look, can't you make her better?" Wilf desperately asked. Part of his reason to conduct his search for the Doctor and Renata was to help Donna be the happiest she could be. "You're so clever. Can't you bring her memory back? Look, just go to her now, go on. Just run across the street. Go up and say hello."

The Doctor would want nothing more than that. He would give anything to go back and travel with Donna, Gabby and Renata all together like the little family they'd become. "If she ever remembers me, her mind will burn, and she will die."

"Don't you touch this car!" Donna's loud yell made both men laugh. She was having a go at a parking meter employee in regards to her car.

"She's not changed," the Doctor remarked with a smile.

"Nah. Oh, there he is…" Wilf nodded to a dark skinned man who had joined Donna and was holding her shopping bags. "Shawn Temple. They're engaged. Getting married in the spring."

"Another wedding." The Doctor was happy to know that Donna was at least living a good life without them. Something needed to go right after all the chaos that happened. "Hold on, she's not gonna be called Noble-Temple? Sounds like a tourist spot."

"No, it's Temple-Noble."

"Right. Is she happy? Is he nice?"

"Yeah, he's sweet enough. He's a bit of a dreamer. Mind you, he's on minimum wage, she's earning tuppence, so all they can afford is a tiny little flat. And then sometimes I see this look on her face. Like she's so sad, but she can't remember why."

"But she's got him," the Doctor said, sparing the window another glance. Donna had just stopped talking to a dark-haired woman on the street. "That's all she needs." God knew one person could make a huge difference in one's life. And right now, his person was light years away.

Unknowingly, the same woman Donna had been talking to walked into the cafe. She went directly up to the counter and greeted the current waitress. They had a few words that prompted the woman to look around until she found the Doctor. She froze for a moment after catching his eye. He tilted his at her, eyes scrutinizing her appearance as she started walking towards their table.

"What is it?" Wilf turned slightly in the booth to see what the Doctor was looking at.

The young woman stopped by their table, wearing a warm smile across her face. Her dark brown - almost black - hair cascaded down her shoulders, stopping shortly above her elbows. There was a bright white flower tucking behind her left ear. She was a bit light skinned as if she was sun tanned. Her eyes were dark but there was a lighter shade right in the center of her irises. She wore a flower patterned dress with a few buttons going down her chest, the top one left unbuttoned.

"Can we help you?" the Doctor asked her, getting a faint feeling that he was supposed to know her from somewhere.

The woman smiled but said nothing. Instead, she reached for a necklace around her neck - the Doctor hadn't even realized she was wearing one! She unfastened it and let it gently fall to the table. The Doctor only briefly studied it before he got a tingling sensation in his head. It was the same as the Master. He looked up at the woman with widened eyes. As the seconds passed, the sensation got stronger, deeper, until he started seeing things.

1914. John Smith had just bumped into Renata Cartwright.

Then they were on the Titanic dancing sweetly moments before they would argue.

They met Donna, then Gabby, and they visited Zhe's gallery. Butterflies, so many butterflies clouded his mind.

The Doctor's body jumped from the booth, hitting his side on the corner of the table in the process but it didn't register to him. He faced the woman and re-scrutinized her whole body. She reached up to his ear, maybe slightly less, which wasn't that big of a difference from her last body…

When he met her eyes, he realized they were both teary. Although his teariness stemmed from a very dark spot and hers was a happy one.

"Hello, Doctor. I'm glad I finally found you," she whispered.

"Renata?" He suddenly had no air in that bypass system of his. When she gave a confirming nod, he nearly crumpled in pain. "You regen...you regenerated!?"

Renata hated to nod again but she did. He looked ready to fall so she quickly dove to hold and hug him. "N-n-n-no, Doctor! It's fine! It's fine! Look at me!" she cupped his face and sweetly smiled at him. "Look at me," she whispered. "I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm okay."

Few tears rolled down the Doctor's cheeks. "I failed you …"

"No, you didn't," Renata fervently shook her head. "You did everything you could but my time was up. I only got time to say goodbye." The Doctor's head wanted to lower but Renata had a firm grip on him. "Doctor, it's okay. I'm okay now." But he failed her, he was seeing her now. She had regenerated without him there at her side. No, he had been too busy running from his mistake. "Doctor, stop it," Renata scolded lightly.

Their minds were still connected, for the moment and she was seeing all of his mistakes...all of them. When the Doctor realized this, his head hung low this time. He was ashamed and embarrassed. Renata wouldn't want anything to do with him. And she would be right. He failed her so many times.

Renata's thumbs cleared the tears off his face. "Shh, I'm here. I'm here for you." She raised his head so that she could see his eyes. "And it looks like there's trouble aboard so…" she kissed his nose and lifted his head so that he would straighten up. "Let's get to work." She fixed his tie until it was straight. The Doctor nodded but it was done mainly out of instinct.

Renata looked past him and smiled at Wilf. "Nice to see you again, Wilf. I just talked to Donna - just a bit - and she seems like herself."

Wilf stared at her, logically confused until he could find his words. "You're…Renata?"

Renata nodded. "Yes. Look a bit different now, which is why I took advantage and snuck to see Donna. Broke a rule." She chuckled to herself and missed the Doctor's stunned face beside her.

She...broke a rule?

"But are you alright?" Wilf stood up from the booth and, like the Doctor, looked Renata over. If she changed her face then it meant she'd died.

"I am just fine, Wilf," Renata nodded. "But you aren't. I hear there are some bad dreams you're having?" Wilf nodded affirmatively. "Well, you did the right thing trying to find us. Tell you what, you go on home and we'll do a few things on our own for a couple hours."

"But I don't-"

Renata put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I promise you that we will be back. There's just a couple things I'd like to discuss with the Doctor in private."

"You promise?" Wilf was more inclined to believe the woman, but he still wanted to hear her say it.

Renata went as far as raising her hand when she promised him again. It proved true to Wilf and so he felt confident enough to leave the cafe knowing that they would find him again. It left Renata an open spot on his side of the booth. She slid in and smiled casually as she picked up a menu from the table's rack. Her eyes gazed over the menu, humming a tune like she was truly there for breakfast or lunch. The Doctor only stared at her, trying to figure something out.

But once again, Renata knew.

"It is me, and I did regenerate." Her eyes flickered from the menu to meet his. Her lips slightly pulled for a wider smile. "I'm not going to lie I still have a headache but I think...I think with some time the Time Vortex will finally find a stabilizing level."

"But the other energy—"

"May have combined with the Time Vortex during my regeneration. Isn't it ironic?" Renata lowered the menu to the table. "I had to die in order to have a chance to live. All my regeneration energy managed to ease the outrageous levels of toxins in my body and I think, if we check later on, it might be forming a new stabilized energy."

"But you died…" the Doctor could barely string the two words together. All he knew was that he missed her death. She must have been so lonely...

"Yes, I did but I didn't die alone." She was still reading his mind. It was rude but for the moment she would leave it open until he got everything off his chest. Plus, it was kind of nice having his presence inside her head. "I had Gabby and I had Zhe...and I had somebody else." Her hand reached the white flower resting behind her ear. The Doctor saw the movement and couldn't help question the gentle stroke she gave it, like it was so precious to her. "I admit I was scared. I wasn't sure if I would make it through regeneration but...here I am."

"I'm so sorry, Renée," the Doctor barely got to say when Renata grabbed his hands on the table.

"No, no, you don't have to apologize for anything."

The Doctor swallowed a lump in his throat while he shook his head. "No, I should have been there like I promised! I told Gabby I would call back whenever she paged! I told her I would do it...but instead I made a huge mistake."

Renata's face softened as his grew deeper into a dark grimness. "Oh Doctor, I know what you have done. I know it all. You don't have to be ashamed. It was a decision that pushed you to the edge. Everyone has that moment."

"You would never," the Doctor said with the utmost certainty. It brought new tears to his eyes. Renata would never make such a terrible decision that would break all the rules their people stood by. He was never going to reach her level; he never had. He started below her and he would never be good enough for her.

Renata knew every thought of his right now and there was such a determination to prove him wrong, it shocked her...but it didn't deter her. "I'm not a proper Time Lady, Doctor. I have made my own choices that aren't becoming of our people."

"You?" the Doctor almost laughed at the idea, but Renata was quite serious.

"Yes." Renata nervously licked her lips before she continued. "I've been afraid of telling you this for a while, Doctor. It's one of my most shameful secrets, but you deserve to know that I'm not as proper and classy as you think I am. At the end of my time in the Time War, I was brought into the High Council. Word had spread that you had stolen the Moment." Once more, the Doctor's head fell in shame. "And my sister had formed a plan. The Assessor had disclosed my affair with you to the Council and they theorized that I could get you to stop from using it."

"But you never came…" the Doctor only raised his head to give her a puzzled look. His memories were a bit fuzzy in that life but he knew exactly what he did in the end.

"I didn't," Renata agreed with fresh tears glistening in her eyes. "The Assessor made an offer to me. 'Find the Doctor, take the Moment back and the High Council will grant you a new regeneration cycle'."

The Doctor's eyes widened. The High Council was always strict about their regeneration cycle. Twelve and no more. Once your number was up, your number was up. There was no getting around it unless there was a really good reason behind it, but even those were rare.

"But I convinced them to give me the new cycle first," Renata went on. Now it was her gaze that was slowly falling. "I told them that I would find you and that I would take the Moment back...but I needed the new cycle first. I only had 2 left. One left," she added for her current state. "And so they did. I was granted a whole new regeneration cycle and I was sent on my way to find you with the promise that I wouldn't let Gallifrey be destroyed."

"But you never…" the Doctor whispered and trailed off when Renata sniffled.

"I lied to them. I was so angry with them all. They plunged our planet into bloody war where I lost my entire family. I had lost my parents, Elek...my unborn child. I lost everything and nobody up in the high ranks seemed to care." A deep, still raw, fury rippled through Renata as if those events had just happened yesterday. It made her body shake from such a feeling that the Doctor had to grip her hands already around his. She exhaled deeply and found courage to look at him. "I wanted them to pay. And I wanted my sister to pay for what she did to us. So I took the new cycle and I ran away. I escaped and I let you do what you did. So you see, Doctor? I'm not proper, I don't follow all the rules. I've made my own terrible choice. You don't dare be ashamed with me because I don't care. I know who you are and nothing has changed."

The Doctor was stunned, astonished even, to hear such a story and that Renata was the protagonist of it. He studied her sweet nature, a nature that had turn slightly less grim than her last incarnation, and simply couldn't see her doing it. "You…?"

Renata nodded her head. "Oh yeah. Lied straight to their faces. I took what I thought I was owed and I ran."

"Do you regret it?"

Renata raised her eyebrows. "I regret lying to my sister but I don't regret taking the extra cycle. I never got to live. The irony is that even with the extra cycle, I still don't know how to live." She wouldn't get lost in that right now, though, not when she knew what was at stake. "So," she straightened up in her spot, "I know the Master's around here. We should find him."

"How do you know?" the Doctor asked then realized he had no idea how she even got to Earth without the TARDIS. "And how did you get here?"

A secret smile spread across Renata's face. "Somebody brought me. He told me everything that was going on. That's why I understand you couldn't return Gabriella's call."

"You're not going to tell me how you got here, are you?" the Doctor knew the answer from that wide, almost teasing, smile on her face. It was a rare sight because Renata never teased...at least not in her last life. Previous life. He swallowed hard.

"It's fine, Doctor," Renata told him again.

"Where's Gabby?"

"I left her with Zhe. If the Master truly is here and something is going wrong with Time then I wanted Gabriella to be far away from here." Renata briefly gazed at the menu in front of her and lamented that they wouldn't be able to order. "You know, I think this body is going to really like pancakes. I've never had them while I was hiding on Earth. Pancakes. Hopefully later." She slid out of the booth then held a hand out for the Doctor. He was practically in awe of her more carefree demeanor. His stunned face made her chuckle. "I know, I'm surprised myself," she said as she grabbed his closest hand and gently made him slide out of the booth.

They left the cafe hand in hand and since they had no TARDIS to get around, they settled for walking. They followed their senses to find the Master and it eventually brought them into a warehouse of some sort. It was near the dumpsite, something that made them wonder why the Master would choose such an...interesting site to reside in. He was, after all, Harold Saxon at one point.

"My nose is definitely more sensitive now," Renata crinkled her nose as they crossed further towards the warehouse. There were piles of trash and of course, being the Doctor, he had climbed the biggest one he could find. Renata sighed and watched him take a spot at the top. "Do you see…?" but she trailed off when she got a specific type of tingle.

He was near.

Renata whipped her head to the left and saw a figure coming towards them. He wore a hoodie but with the hood down. For a few seconds, the Master didn't acknowledge Renata's presence. Instead, he fired an electric beam of energy towards the Doctor, but missed.

"Stop that!" Renata yelled in outrage. They hadn't even been in the same spot for a minute when already there was a fight.

The Doctor rushed down the pile of dirt, thinking Renata would be the next target but the Master was solely focused on him for the time being. Again he shot and this time the Doctor took the blow against the chest.

"Doctor!" Renata exclaimed and dashed to help him off the ground.

The Master then sent a wave of energy at her, purposely missing so that it would only force her into a skidded stop. "Always coming to save him, aren't you?" Renata's face was a deep scowl and it was a shame it was already learning the marks considering it was only hours new. "New face," the Master remarked, barely giving her a look. "What? You thought going younger might do something for him?" his nod at the Doctor evoked a pure hatred from Renata.

"You're maniacal."

"And you're a cheater."

Renata felt anger bubble inside of her, making her fingers twitch, but it wasn't the normal type of anger she would get. It made her feel kind of sick, actually, like something was swirling inside her stomach.

The Master was satisfied with her silent reaction and so he turned for the Doctor on the ground. The latter was attempting to stand but that energy was stronger than he thought.

"Your resurrection went wrong," he strained to say. "That energy... Your body's ripped open. Now you're killing yourself."

But the Master didn't look very concerned with his situation. He turned towards the sight of the city and grinned. "And that's human Christmas out there. They eat so much. All that roasting meat, cakes and red wine! Hot, fat, blood food!" Renata grimaced at his frantic, spitting description. "Pots, plates of meat and flesh and grease and juice. And baking, burnt, sticky hot skin. Hot! It's so hot!"

"Oh my God, stop!" Renata yelled, demanded, but the Master seemed to be on automatic. The words kept coming out.

"It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! Eat it! Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!" the Master sucked in a sharp breath and that seemed to get him some control back.

"What if we ask you for help?" the Doctor knew with that question he would at least buy them 30 seconds of his attention. Of course he didn't see Renata's reluctant expression over his decision. "There's more at work tonight than you and us."

'Are you sure asking him to help us is a good idea?'

The Doctor flinched when he heard Renata's soft voice in his head. He couldn't help but shoot her his stunned look. She could understand his reaction, given her behavior in the past when it came to this precise ability, but the situation called for it.

'We're in trouble, Doctor. I will not stand in the way because I don't want you to peek into my mind. You know me now and all my secrets. There's nothing left to hide.' Renata was at peace with that, and she could only wait for the Doctor to fully grasp the fact she'd lied about being 'proper'. They would have to discuss that later when everything was over.

The Doctor gave her a nod then returned to the conversation with the Master. "I've been told something is returning."

The Master raised his arms to present himself. "And here I am!"

"No, it was something more."

That was a disappointment. The Master's arms dropped but his hands soon found his head after a particular jab of pain struck him. "But it hurts."

"I was told the end of time…"

"It hurts, Doctor, the noise...the noise in my head, Doctor!" the Master bobbed his head at a tune that only he could hear. "One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four,

stronger than ever before! Can't you hear it?"

"We really can't," Renata said quietly from her spot. Even though the Master was crazy, she always believed him about the drums in his head. There was no way anyone could fake that type of insanity.

"Just listen!" the Master practically barked at them for silence. "Listen, listen! Every minute, every second, every beat of my hearts, there it is...calling to me. Please, listen!"

"We can't hear it," the Doctor told him.

The Master groaned in frustration and stalked towards the Doctor, ignoring Renata's cry for him to stop. He grabbed the Doctor's head and pressed their foreheads together. For a split second there, the Doctor heard the famous drums drumming away...nonstop.

He shoved the Master away with a face of horror. "But that's…!"

"You heard it?" Renata blinked at the Doctor, wondering if perhaps the Master had tampered with his mind.

'No, it was there,' the Doctor promised her, his eyes still glued to the Master. 'He truly does hear something.'

Well, that changed things. Renata took a stride towards the two men and pulled the Master to her. "There can't actually be a noise in your head so-so…" she couldn't begin to comprehend the layers that went behind that 'noise'. She was flabbergasted and it showed on her face. "What is inside your head, then?"

The Master pulled his arm out of his grip to laugh as if he'd finally won something. "It's real! It's real! It's REAL!" he suddenly launched himself into the sky, as if it were that easy, and landed at the top of a pile of dirt and rock. "All these years, you thought I was mad. King of the wasteland. But something is calling me, Doctor, what is it? What is it? What is it?"

"If we knew, you wouldn't be up there!" frowned Renata. "Now get down!"

They were suddenly taken over by the whirring blades of a helicopter coming towards them. A beam of light struck down over the Master, then the Doctor and then Renata. Two ropes swung down the air, allowing for two men to rappel down. Between them, they tranquilized the Master and hoisted him up.

"No, stop!" the Doctor dashed for the pile, as if he would ever catch them in time.

Two other soldiers appeared in the area, one of them forcing Renata to put her hands up while the other started firing at the Doctor. The Master was taken before the Doctor ever reached him, but even then somebody got the idea to smack him unconscious.

"If you hit me with that I swear to God you'll regret it," Renata pointed a warning finger at the soldier holding the gun on her. The soldier didn't appear that intimidated, but they did leave her be.

When she could, Renata rushed to the Doctor's side. She called his name twice before seeing the mark of the smack on the left side of his face. It was deep enough to keep him out for a decent amount of time.

~ 0 ~

By the time the Doctor came to, it was nearly dawn. But the strangest thing was that he wasn't even outside. He was inside the TARDIS, his body unceremoniously sprawled over the Captain's chair.

"What the—" he gave a jump and nearly fell to the floor.

"Please don't hurt yourself," Renata poked her head around the console. "It took me a good deal to drag you to that chair. You're heavier than you look."

The Doctor briefly paused to shoot her a mock-glare. "Thanks." He straightened himself up a minute afterwards and brought a hand to his head, precisely over the spot he'd been smacked.

"Yeah, I wouldn't touch that," Renata said after catching him wince. "They got you really good, not that I'm complimenting the enemy. That's what you do." For the second time, the Doctor mock-glared at her. "Sorry," Renata bit her lip and awkwardly smiled at him.

"How'd you find the TARDIS?" he asked after realizing she had to have gone off in the night to find the box while he'd been unconscious.

"With enormous difficulty," Renata leaned her body forwards on the console and sighed. She had to wander through the streets, following her senses to find the TARDIS and it involved a certain degree of thinking like the Doctor. She came to the conclusion that she wasn't meant to think like the Doctor.

"You didn't think to check my mind for the location?"

"That's rude," she said matter-of-factly.

So, not everything had changed in her. She was still cautious about rules. The Doctor strode to her side and gazed at the monitor she'd been working at. "How long has it been?"

"It's nearly morning and I've got nothing," Renata admitted with frustration. "Whoever took him knows exactly how to hide his, well, Time Lord sense. I couldn't do it and the TARDIS couldn't do it. What else can we do?"

The Doctor considered every last option they had which, honestly, wasn't a lot. Although, there was one option he bet Renata hadn't thought about. He wouldn't have thought about it either because it was a minuscule thing, so small that Renata wouldn't consider it important.

"I've got one idea," he said and prepared the console for their next destination.

~ 0 ~

"This was your idea?" Renata had her arms folded and one of her feet was tapping against the cement. They stood just across the street from Donna's house, waiting for Wilf to come out.

"He's got to be involved," the Doctor insisted but Renata scoffed so deeply that it actually made him wince. She also retained the same - if not stronger - scolding voice too.

"He is a human who just got lucky!"

"Exactly. How many humans can get lucky finding me?"

"Well I found you twice and I wasn't very happy about it." Renata kept her eyes locked on Donna's house in case Donna might pop out and they had to hide. The Doctor, on his part, glared at her again. So this incarnation had more tongue. Something to look forward to.

Eventually, Wilf came out of the house but he crossed the street in a rush. "Listen, you can't park there, what if Donna sees it?"

"So she is in the house?" Renata shot the Doctor another disapproving look. "See? It's much too dangerous."

"Oh give me a break, you talked to her!" went the Time Lord.

"Yeah, with a new face and for like 2 minutes! That was all I was ever going to get!"

"Listen!" Wilf spoke over the two before things got more heated. "You really can't be here! Can't you move that thing?"

The Doctor shook his head at Renata and turned to Wilf, getting straight to the reason they were there. "You're the only one, Wilf. The only connection I can think of. You're involved. If I could work out how. Tell me, have you seen anything? I don't know. Anything strange, anything odd?" Wilf made a face initially, ready to say 'no' when something popped into his head. "What, what is it?" the Doctor caught onto his expression fast. He'd been right. "Tell us!"

"I mean, it could be nothing…" Wilf said, for a second believing he was being ridiculous. How could a book be important?

"Think, think, think! Maybe something out of the blue. Connected to your life, something!"

"Alright, Donna was a bit strange. She had a funny little moment, this morning, all because of that book."

"What book?"

Wilf said nothing and instead hurried back towards the house.

"See? Told you!" the Doctor smugly smirked at Renata who groaned in return.

"You're ridiculous!" she went after Wilf instead.

The Doctor followed her and while Wilf went inside the house, the two Time Lords moved towards the back to wait for him. When the man returned, he held a book in his hand.

"Here you are, his name's Joshua Naismith!" Wilf pointed to the dark-skinned man on the front cover of the book.

"That's the man!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I was shown him, by the Ood."

"By the what?" Wilf asked, no hope of understanding that bit.

Renata took the book from Wilf's hands and examined the front cover. Joshua Smith certainly seemed human. She checked for the summary on the back and scowled. "Why would a human billionaire be important to this all of a sudden?"

"This is all part of the convergence, maybe…" the Doctor said, mildly lost in thoughts. "Maybe touching Donna's subconscious. Oh, she's still fighting for us, even now. The Doctor-Donna!"

A warm smile came to Renata's face, albeit sad in the end. "I miss her." Before the Doctor could say he did too, Sylvia emerged from the backdoor and nearly yelped at the sight of the pair.

"Get out of here!"

"Well, that's not a way to greet visitors," Renata lowered the book in her arms then frowned at Sylvia.

"She can't see you!"

"And a Merry Christmas to you," the Doctor sighed.

"Mum, where are those tweezers?" Donna's voice froze the group outside. It was as if the fact they froze would keep Donna from spotting them.

"Go!" Sylvia hissed at the pair.

"Yeah, alright, we're going," the Doctor grabbed Renata's arm and pulled them towards the street.

"Yeah, me, too!" Wilf declared and rushed after the pair, completely ignoring his daughter's hiss for her to stay where he was. In fact, it just made him run faster.

"Dad, I'm warning you!" Sylvia was hot on his trail when they were near the sidewalk.

"Bye, see you later!"

"Stay right where you are!"

The Doctor hurriedly unlocked the TARDIS. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Sylvia's personality, and he assumed neither was Renata. But he stopped when he heard Wilf's goodbye to Sylvia. "You can't come with us!"

"You're not leaving me with her!" Wilf responded, sounding more like a warning. He gave a nod to Sylvia who was yelling and coming towards them.

"Fair enough," the Doctor relented.

"Oh get in!" Renata pushed him in first then ushered Wilf after. "And you—" she called over to Sylvia, "—better be nice to Donna! My threat still stands!" She then went into the TARDIS, leaving behind the screaming human.

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS eventually materialized in the mansion of Joshua, in a lab room. The Doctor walked out of the TARDIS with Wilf in tow. He only made it three steps from the TARDIS when Renata called for him to stop.

"Hey! You can't just walk out of the TARDIS without a plan!"

The Doctor turned around, not exactly surprised she had also kept that trait in this new incarnation. "I do have a plan," he argued but she scoffed loudly. "I do."

"Yeah, what is it?"

The Doctor shifted a bit and caught Wilf's amused stare. "We...are going to find the Master! There! That's the plan!" Renata huffed and crossed her arms. The Doctor pulled out a remote to lock the TARDIS completely. "Just a second out of sync. Don't want the Master finding the TARDIS, that's the last thing we need. Now c'mon!"

He led the way out of the room kept to the walls of the hallways until they could make their way outside. The mansion turned out to be an incredibly huge manor with multiple buildings in the property. They had to be careful while they came close to an archway but they were almost caught by two armed guards.

"That book said he's a billionaire. He's got his own private army," Wilf remarked after Renata's gawked expression.

"Down here," the Doctor used his sonic on a small door nearby to go into before the guards could catch them.

"I don't suppose you know where this is going to lead?" Renata asked as they crept down the hallway towards the only source of light.

"Uh, no, I do not," the Doctor shrugged. "But I thought it was better than being caught by the armed guards.

Renata would give him that.

As the trio neared the room they began to hear two voices of presumed employees. Before walking straight in, the Doctor did his due diligence - something Renata truly appreciated given the fact they had Wilf with them - and spotted a man and woman discussing over a particular device set up against a wall.

"Nice gate!" the Doctor startled the pair as he walked on in. "Look, sorry, don't call security, or I'll tell them you're wearing a Shimmer. Cos I reckon anyone wearing a Shimmer doesn't want the Shimmer to be noticed or they wouldn't need a Shimmer in the first place."

The woman chuckled nervously as she glanced at her co-worker. "I'm sorry, what's a Shimmer?"

"For a second, pretend we're not stupid," Renata said flatly. She would've been nice if they weren't on crunch time. The Master was somewhere in the building and these humans actually thought he was their prisoner. The Master was no one's prisoner. But the two technicians continued with the charade.

The woman, who went by Addams, laughed. "I'm sorry, what's a Shimmer?"

With a straight face, Renata raised her sonic screwdriver (her dress had pockets!) at the woman and dismantled the disguise. She was a green woman with small spikes sticking out from her head. It gave Wilf a gasp. The Doctor was more stunned with the fact Renata had done that.

'The Master is on the loose. I will not let him hurt people again.' Renata said without making the smallest of expressions on her face. 'I will apologize later.'

Now that sounded like her. The Doctor put away his smile after a moment and got Addams to disclose everything they had on Joshua and his experiments. He and Renata surfed through their recent results but as much as they studied, they couldn't understand what this huge project was about.

"What are you doing!?" cried a man as he walked into the room to find the intruders.

This time it was the Doctor who took the disguise off and left another green skinned humanoid in its place. "Shimm-err!" Renata struggled hiding her smile. "Now tell me, quickly, what's going on, the Master, Harold Saxon? Skeletor, whatever you're calling him, what's he doing up there?"

The man, Rossiter, helplessly glanced at Addams for some type of explanation. She was beyond trying to stop them. "But I checked the readings. He's done good work. It's operational!"

"Yeah but that doesn't mean it'll do whatever you think it'll do," Renata turned around and looked him and Addams over. "And I'm sorry but who are you? We met another you but, uh, he was a bit small and quite red."

Addams seemed displeased by the comparison. "No, that's a Zocci!"

"We're not Zocci, we're Vinvocci! Completely different!" the male Vinvocci exclaimed, sounding just as offended as his co-worker.

"Alright, sorry," Renata raised her hands over her chest to show she truly had meant no offence.

"And the Gate is Vinvocci. We're a salvage team!" Addams explained before they got any ideas that they were also intruding. "We picked up the signal when the humans reactivated it, and as soon as it's working, we can transport it to the ship."

"But what does it do?" the Doctor frantically waved a hand for them to start explaining the useful stuff.

"Well, it mends, it's a simple as that. It's a medical device to repair the body. It makes people better!"

"No that won't do," Renata shook her head, confusing the two Vinvocci for a second. "The Master would never help fix a machine meant to heal people."

The Doctor agreed. "There's got to be more. Every single warning says the Master's going to do something colossal." He needed to figure it out before the machine was actually used.

"So that thing's like a sickbed, yes?" Wilf asked just to make sure he wasn't completely lost. He was still trying to get over the two cacti people.

"More or less," Addams said.

"Well, pardon me for asking, but why is it so big?"

"Oh, good question," Renata gave him credit where it was due. "Why is it so big?" She frowned when Addams scoffed at the condescendingly, as if they were neanderthals compared to them.

"It doesn't just mend one person at a time!"

Rossiter scoffed along with Addams. "That would be ridiculous!"

"It mends whole planets!"

That revation froze Renata and the Doctor. They simultaneously stared at the Vinvocci, not that their expressions would do anything for them.

"Yeah that'll do it," Renata gave a nod afterwards. That would definitely get the Master's attention.

"It transmits the medical template across the entire population," Addams thought simplifying it further would get the two aliens to stop staring at her so wide-eyed. They looked like the bugs this planet had, the ones that buzzed so much. "What?" she asked when the two still hadn't taken their eyes off her.

The Doctor suddenly bolted from the room.

"What's going on!?" Addams called out but he was too far gone to even hear her.

"The Master, that's what," Renata sighed before breaking into a quick run herself.

The Doctor was good at what he did best, but not even his speedy legs could get him to the main room on time. The Gate was full on running and despite the Doctor's insistence to turn it off, nobody would listen to him. In fact, all he got were rifles aimed at him.

"No, no, no, no. Whatever you do, just don't let him near that device!" the Doctor desperately looked at the Master at the side of the room. The straight jacket on him meant nothing.

The Master seemed to agree with the Doctor's thoughts because he smirked. "Oh, like that was ever gonna happen." He destroyed the straightjacket with a burst of energy then leaped into the Gate with a scream. It forced everyone away out of sheer fear. "Homeless, was I? Destitute and dying? Well, look at me now!"

"Get out of there right now!" Renata ordered as soon as she ran inside. She was out of breath, more so than her last body but to be fair it had been mere hours since she regenerated. Her body strength wasn't entirely back yet.

"Deactivate it. All of you, turn the whole thing off!" the Doctor ordered in vain again. Everyone just stood there.

"God, humans are so frustrating!" Renata exclaimed at everyone. The Doctor started to realize it wasn't so much that they weren't listening but that they couldn't.

"He's...inside my head," Naismith said, frantically rubbing the side of his face.

"Get out of there!" the Doctor snapped at the Master and was shot back in retaliation with an energy bolt.

"Uh, Doctor? Renata?" Wilf came into the room with a stumble. "There's this face…"

"What is it!?" the Doctor rushed to the man as a last resort. He and Renata weren't being affected by whatever the Master had done to the Gate. "What can you see!?"

Wilf shook his head like everyone else was, as if that would shake whatever inside. "Well, it's him. I can see him! I can see his face."

Renata noticed the television was on and whoever it was currently giving a speech seemed to be under the same situation. "Is that - is that the President of the United States!?"

The Doctor ran past her towards the gate to try and shut it all down but the Master had thought well ahead.

"I locked it you idiot!"

The Doctor knew it was useless so be did what he could. He ran back to Wilf and ran towards the booths, grabbing Renata along the way.

"What!?" Renata cried as she'd nearly fell on her own feet from such a sudden pull.

The Doctor pushed Wilf into one of the booths and then pulled Renata with him into the second booth mirroring Wilf's. "I just need to filter the levels so it won't affect us!"

"Could've said something instead of just yanking me away for the ride!" Renata huffed and assisted with the shields.

"Bit in a rush!" He exclaimed.

"Oh! I can see again. He's gone!" Wilf blinked rapidly out of relief. His mind was clear of that maniacal man!

"Radiation shielding. Now, press the button, let us out!" the Doctor pointed to the control pad on Wilf's side. Of course the human didn't understand at the first instruction.

"You what?"

"We can't get out until you press the button, that button there!"

"Oh, okay!" Wilf pressed the button the Doctor pointed to and allowed the two aliens to get out.

"50 seconds and counting!" the Master laughed deliriously at his grand plan.

"To what?" Renata demanded to know but he laughed.

"Ohhh, you're gonna love this!"

The Doctor once again went for the Gate in a last attempt to shut it down. For a moment, Renata wondered if putting a good smack against the Master's head might do some good.

You're not a child, she berated herself. No, she wasn't. She rushed to help the Doctor again, thinking maybe between the two they could come up with a quick solution. Neither of them noticed Wilf accidentally pulling out his revolver while he meant to take his ringing cell phone out.

It was Donna calling, at first, frantic that everyone was acting weird. It both shocking and relieving to learn that she wasn't being affected. Soon after, a friend of Wilf's called saying the same thing.

"What is it? Hypnotism?" the Doctor asked, though Renata wasn't sure if he was asking her or himself. Either way, neither of them knew the answer. "Mind control? You're grafting your thoughts inside them, is that it?"

The Master shook his head condescendingly. Oh, he couldn't wait for them to figure it out because by then it would be too late. Well, he might as well give them the answer. It might be more fun that way. "Oh, that's way too easy. No, no, no, they're not gonna think like me. They're gonna become me. A-a-a-and, zero!" Right at his command a wave of energy burst from the Gate and made its way around the entire globe.

It was then that they realized what the Gate would truly be. Every single human was turning into the Master.

"Doctor! Renata! She's starting to remember, Donna!" Wilf cried from behind. He turned a glare on the Master. "What is it? What have you done, you monster?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" the Master, the original, gestured at himself before gesturing to the other versions of himself in the room. "Or to me?"

"Or to me?" a second Master asked, followed by another, and then another. And then another.

'Breaking news - I'm everyone. And everyone in the world is me!' Even a reporter on television joined in.

Renata felt her head spinning. One Master was more than the universe could handle. She was stunned, and terrified. Very, very terrified.

The Master walked across the floor with his duplicates standing behind him. "The human race was always your favorite, Doctor. But now, there is no human race. There is only... the Master race."

Renata had the good sense to back up as if that would make a difference. She didn't know when it happened but her hand had found the Doctor's in the midst of their horror. He didn't even realize it either.

Everywhere around them the Master laughed thinking his victory was certain, if only he knew the greater work that was being planned ahead…

…or in the past.

~ 0 ~

Doomsday was coming for Gallifrey. The once mighty planet was now crumbling to its last pieces. The citadel barely had any glass in place thanks to the ongoing firing from both sides. Most of its buildings were down or currently smoking from put out fires. There was barely anything left, including hope. But, just because there was barely anything left didn't mean it was over. Lord President Rassilon would never submit to such a travesty.

He sat at the head of a long table in the Council's chamber room. One hand held a long staff while the other hand was covered in an ornate gauntlet. "What news of the Doctor?" he demanded from the other Time Lords in the room.

"Disappeared, my Lord President," one Time Lord answered with a bowed head. It was no secret what that meant.

"But we know his intention," spoke a Time Lady, this one with a head held high. She had a sharpness in her dark, space-like, eyes that would typically scare the others, for when they saw sharpness it meant there would be consequences. "He still possesses the Moment and he'll use it to destroy Daleks and Time Lords alike. The Visionary confirms it."

Rassilon said nothing in the beginning as he focused on the old woman at the other end of the table. She was the only one not subjected to his terrible mood. Right now, she was part of the solution. Her straggly, gray hair covered most of her tattooed arms and face. She wrote fervently on a sheets of papers sprawled around her.

"Ending, burning, falling, all of it falling, the black and pitch and screaming fire, so burning," the Visionary rambled to herself as if she was the only person in the room, perhaps the world.

"All of her prophecies say the same, that this is the last day of the Time War, that Gallifrey falls, that we die, today," the first Time Lord from before spike up again. Before he could say more, the Visionary entered a loop of one word that backed the conversation.

"Ending... Ending. Ending. Ending!"

"Perhaps it's time," said a second Time Lady, this one seeming a bit more nervous than the other and yet she was struggling to keep it at bay. The first Time Lady was staring at her with beedy eyes, but the second Time Lady went on. "This is only the furthest edge of the Time War. But at its heart, millions die every second, lost in bloodlust and insanity. With time itself resurrecting them, to find new ways of dying, over and over again, a travesty of life. Isn't it better to end it, at last?"

The second Time Lady cocked her head to the side, her expression cold and calculating. What a fool. She had no idea what she was saying and much less to who. Their Lord President would never allow for them to die. Gallifrey could not and would not fall. They would survive because they would, because she had the perfect way. That's what she always did, she found solutions to problems. She found the best ones and kept other opinions and suggestions - like the one they just heard - out of the public's ears. She wasn't the Assessor for nothing.

"Thank you for your opinion." Rassilon rose from his chair, turning sideways to the second Time Lady. His expression bore no emotions but what he did next wasn't surprising. With his gauntlet-covered hand, he disintegrated the Time Lady with one hit of energy. Nobody flinched when the woman screamed into oblivion, but they did when Rassilon yelled. "I will not die! Do you hear me?! A billion years of Time Lord history riding on our backs. I will not let this perish. I will not!"

"My Lord," the Assessor stepped forwards, letting her hands reside in front of her, "I do have another solution." Her lips quirked only slightly when Rassilon gave her the attention. He always did. Her reputation preceded her. The Assessor was known for her logical, calculating solutions that had often brought them the best results. She was first and foremost professional, even when it was impossible to be. Not even the loss of her parents and her own husband months ago knocked her off. She kept going because that's what needed to be done. That's what was expected of her. And she always did what was expected of her.

"My sister, Renata, could help capture the Doctor before he uses the Moment. She could convince him not to use it."

However pleasing that sounded, Rassilon could not fully believe that one woman was smart enough to outwit the Doctor. "Explain yourself at once, Assessor."

The Assessor nodded, though she would struggle explaining the story given the contents of it. It was something she forced her mind to erase over the centuries but now was the time to bring it all back for their salvation. "Forgive me my Lord, for this is...an embarrassment to my family. Centuries ago, before the Doctor and my sister were each married, they had a relationship. I don't know how long it had been but when I caught them, I forbade it." Her darkness settled nicely over her tone, as if she used it constantly...and perhaps she did. Her eyes still turned ice cold whenever she thought of that horrifying period in their lives. How her sister could have done such an atrocity to their family was still beyond her now. "But I suspect that Renata never truly moved on. I suspect the same from the Doctor. If we shall do one more thing may I suggest we use this as a strategy?. Who else to convince him than someone he could never reject?"

"You are sure this could work?" Rassilon questioned.

"It was known that the Doctor's family has since been deceased. There is no one left, only my sister. Her word would carry an immense weight."

Rassilon remained silent for a few minutes. There was no telling what he would decide on. Ultimately, he gave a nod. "Bring her in. Find her and bring her here now."

"Of course," the Assessor bowed her head and hurried out of the room in a purposeful stride.

"My Lord," the first male Time Lord Lord up after the Assessor had gone. like everyone else, he didn't doubt that the Assessor knew what she was doing - her previous doings had given her a high standing reputation amongst their people - but the Time Lord felt like this was something that needed to be addressed. It could be part of their saving. He grabbed one of the Visionary's scrolls and brought it to Rassilon. "There is one part of the prophecy. Forgive me. I'm sorry. It's rather difficult to decipher. But it talks of three survivors, beyond the Final Day, two children of Gallifrey and one child of the Vortex."

Had Rassilon been human, the snap 'excuse me?' might have come out of his mouth. He did a double take at the Time Lord in front of him. "Child of the...Vortex?"

The Time Lord swallowed hard as he nodded. He assumed he was about 2 seconds away from being disintegrated. "Y-yes, my Lord." The symbol, albeit surrounded by incoherent scribbles, was quite clear. Everyone knew the symbol of the Vortex and there it was. However he did denote another symbol, one that took a moment of study, that did make things just a bit more credible. "The Visionary drew a-a...I believe humans call it a butterfly."

Rassilon all but snatched the scroll from the Time Lord's hands. He needed to see for himself but even as he confirmed the Time Lord's words, he didn't understand it. And that wouldn't do. "Names. I want names." He chucked the scroll back to the Time Lord who scrambled to catch it.

His hands shook as he hurriedly searched for the names on the scroll. "It, uh, it foresees them locked in their final confrontation, the enmity of ages, which would suggest…"

Rassilon understood that part perfectly. Everyone knew it. "The Doctor! And the Master. And the third? Who is the third?"

"A-A, uh, a…" the Time Lord scanned the scroll as best as he could, "A daughter. The Vortex Butterfly."

Rassilon glared at the man before him. That made absolutely no sense. His gauntlet may have raised halfway, prompting the Time Lord to quickly add more.

"Renata! Time Lady Renata! She-she merged with the Vortex! The butterflies are part of a human's mind - imagination - and together they were turned into new creatures."

The confusion washed off Rassilon's face to be replaced by utter disgust. Behind him, the rest of the Council exchanged confused glances. Humans were known to be quite simple and primitive. They never questioned the Doctor's fascination with that race on account of his own odd behaviors, but everyone knew Renata was a proper Time Lady. She belonged to a noble family, a family that was well respected for always being the prime example of what was expected of a Time Lord. Though she ran a questionable charity foundation, after she married she went on to become one of the most respectable Time Ladies of Gallifrey.

And now they heard she had merged with a human's mind and created herself anew? That couldn't be.

"But one word keeps being repeated, my Lord, one constant word. Earth," the Time Lord finished just so that he wouldn't be directly under Rassilon's eyes. If he was to be furious let it be with those at fault.

The Visionary gasped at the mention of the blue planet. Her head snapped up, revealing her widened eyes. "Earth. Earth. Earth! Earth! Earth...!"

Rassilon knew not what their clear plan was, but all things pointed to the primitive planet. So be it. "Maybe that's where the answer lies. Our salvation on Earth."

[riviae]

so this is long & rambly but i’ve been working on this for awhile now.... anyway, starts out very introspective!regis-y but becomes geralt/regis fluff real quick lol. hope y’all enjoy: 

Before crossing paths with a witcher who proved himself to be a man worth following into the very jaws of death, the seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis. 

He knew the cycle of things--life and death, warmth and cold, planting and harvesting--but he was an outsider to these things just as everything else on the Continent. Time passed. Wars were fought. Blood was shed. Empires rose and fell. All the while, Regis remained, burdened by an immortal life lived alone. To take part in humanity, to love it to some extent, but disappear into the shadows when a curious eye took interest in him. When a hand reached out--something that rarely occurred, unless holding a sword, pitchfork, or torch--he knew it was time to pack up and leave, lest he get too attached. 

Self-preservation, for higher vampires, was confined to the affairs of the heart and the mind--their bodies were not in danger of ruin, but memories and emotions were often ruinous for his kind. 

Yet, whatever contentment he could find as a bystander to the world’s happenings and goings was dashed the moment he met Geralt. All those years ago, Regis had fled from Dillingen to his home in Fen Carn, a cottage in the midst of an elven cemetery, in an attempt at avoiding the ever-encroaching war. 

And in perhaps the same cosmically infinitesimal chances of the Conjunction of Spheres occurring, Regis’ entire life changed at the sight of milk-white hair and amber cat-like eyes. He stepped out of his hiding spot, brushed away the stray leaves that clung to his clothes, and faced his destiny with a reserved, tight-lipped smile. 

He’s a witcher, Regis thought, the wolf medallion at the man’s sternum sparking a tiny flame of uneasiness in the vampire’s gut. Then, a more logical thought followed: I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher under amicable circumstances and now, here one is, practically at my doorstep. What luck! 

As his journey with Geralt and the hansa continued, as they traveled and fought, bled and healed, wintered in a land akin to a fairytale, Regis had a startling realization. Something had thawed inside him and he was fairly certain it was the stirrings of love. Like a change in season, like the subtle shift from winter to spring, where one wakes in the morning and sees that all the snow has seemingly melted in the night, unaware of the slowly melting ice with each sunny day until it was completely gone, so Regis was caught unaware by what he felt for the hansa--by what he felt for Geralt in particular.

Just how far would he go for these humans? How much would he sacrifice for these flickering beacons of light, here one moment, gone in the next? It was the ghost of himself--the monster he once was--that would have asked these questions. But the Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzeiff-Godefroy of the present loved his friends even more for their fragility, their tenacity in the face of a world that seemed at the ready to send them into an early grave. Love, he decided, staring at the smiling faces of the hansa at their breakfast table in Beauclair Palace, was a good enough reason to die for--and a good enough reason to live for, when he was on the cusp of nothingness. When any other sentient being would have longed for death in the throes of agony, Regis held on. For them. 

Memories spilled from his head at the first touch of magic-touched flames, nails clawing helplessly at the air. Fear burned him alive, ate away at his flesh until nothing but a pillar of ash remained. It was a pain worse than anything he had felt before--worse than anything he could have ever fathomed. He was neither alive nor dead, but something grotesquely stuck in the middle, unable to pass on to the comforting abyss of oblivion. 

Between the coldness of fear and not-death, between the pain of a body futilely attempting to regenerate from nothing, Regis did find some respite. He dreamed. And dreamed. And dreamed. He was transported to memories of the past, and while some were happier than others, even the painful recollections felt better than the aching emptiness that threatened to swallow his consciousness whole. 

Angouleme’s encouraging laughter whenever he used one of her... unique phrases. A warning pinch from Milva when he veered too far off topic, followed by an apologetic, but brief pat of his hand. A comfortable silence between himself and Cahir as they stayed up to guard the group during the night, sharing a small tincture of mandrake hooch to pass the time. Dandelion’s rapt attention to Regis’ stories, one time so transfixed that he caught his sleeve on fire as they all sat around the campfire and didn’t even notice. Geralt telling him about Ciri, voice warm, eyes crinkled in a rare unguarded expression of fondness. 

He thought back on his journal entries, the once severe, cerebral scrawl now sprinkled with mentions of the hansa. 

Angouleme somehow stole a dozen baguettes from the last tavern we stopped at and took only a quarter of one for herself before distributing the rest to the unfortunate people living in the slums of the city--and I never would have noticed (her prowess as a bandit is not something to be dismissive of, regardless of her youth) if she hadn’t also tried to search through my satchel while I “slept” in the hopes of finding olive oil to spread over her bread. For a child raised by cruelty, her morals are far better than mine when I was her age--or, rather, when I was developmentally at her age. Well, better in certain respects. She’s been quite a menace to the echelon of Toussaint... 

Milva means to show me how to hunt like humans do, meaning that I must learn how to be an archer. I don’t have much skill with human weapons--for nothing is as deadly as a pair of claws or teeth built to pierce and bleed flesh--but I will try my best all the same. Perhaps after this we can continue our reading lessons. For as much as she bemoans academics and learning for the sake of learning (as in things not readily helpful in her everyday survival), she is a naturally charming and brilliant pupil. Her “common sense,” as Angouleme often calls it, has kept us from harm plenty of times--which is why her ability as a student doesn’t surprise me. Now, if only she would stop climbing up a tree whenever our lessons start to bore her... 

Cahir, to my surprise, has taken on the role of doing the laundry for the group. Granted, we all have very few vestments to spare, but what clothes we do have that can reasonably benefit from a soak, Cahir takes and washes in the lake. Which, while I appreciate the sentiment immensely, I still found myself mildly panicked when I went to dress in the morning and my trousers were nowhere to be found. The man is quite young, probably no more than twenty-two years, but he has an old soul, as the saying goes. I would not be surprised if he finally grows sick of war, having grown up in an Empire where bloodshed is the status quo, and decides to make his living as a fisherman or farmer after we reunite Geralt with his ward. I sincerely hope that he gets the chance. 

Dandelion, ever the poet, has shown me his latest ballad. And imagine my surprise when I realized it was about me despite my immense caution on writing anything regarding higher vampires at all. It’s incredibly vapid--a shame, since he is quite the wordsmith when not preoccupied by romantic affairs--but I admit, if it were published, it would become popular within a week. He took the story of my youth and twisted it into something nearly unrecognizable, save for the titular character being named Rex. A two-crown romance with the nominative case of my name attached... perhaps this is a caution to everyone: never make friends with a writer if you value your privacy. 

Geralt dozed off beside me with his head on my shoulder. Now, him sleeping close to me is not all that uncommon--we spent many nights as a company huddled around a dwindling campfire together. What was uncommon was that he sought me out--practically barged into my room--to take his late afternoon nap... all the while I remained as still as a statue, attempting to process the sudden show of affection. Toussaint had softened Geralt in a way, so much in fact, that he apparently saw no harm in falling asleep next to a higher vampire, his swords still leaning in the corner of his room. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his unusual straightforwardness. Where others might embellish their words, dress them up (or down) to suit their agenda, Geralt forgoes words entirely, instead letting his actions speak with a refreshing honesty. I heard the “I trust you, Regis,” as clear as day.

He thought back to all the times were his cowardice had kept him from voicing his feelings and it paralleled to his past, as if he were the same blood-abusing fiend of his youth. Centuries had passed and glimpses of the same shy, timid vampire who drank blood to be accepted, to make friends, only to lose himself in addiction, still rose to the surface. Blood was no longer a problem, but the fear of otherness, of being ostracized by those he cared about, still tempered his actions. And he was absolutely tired of it.

It was then that Regis made a vow to himself: If I live, If I become whole again, I will tell him the truth. He got his chance almost a decade later, when he was as whole as anyone could be after regenerating from nothing but dust and a drop of blood.

After Dettlaff was placated, no longer a danger to himself or others, Regis visited Geralt at Corvo Bianco. It was summer then, a season that saw him at the witcher’s door just as the last of the rows of sunflowers turned towards the sunlight in the midday heat. 

He knocked on the front door, politeness dictating his actions. A disheveled witcher opened the door, familiar cat-eyes widening marginally at the sight of Regis, as close to a slack-jaw moment of surprise as anyone were bound to get from Geralt. 

“Expecting someone else?” Regis teased, clutching the strap of his satchel as he crossed the threshold into Geralt’s home. He gave a cursory glance about the homestead--it had been decorated fairly well since the last time he visited to drop off the mutagenerator. In fact, the interior was downright cozy, a far cry from what he imagined a witcher keep to look like. 

No matter what Geralt says, his years spent on the Path have influenced him. Only someone who expects to wake in the morning would bother to decorate their home--or to have a home at all. 

The witcher shook his head, long, tangled locks spilling over his shoulders as he scratched tiredly at his beard. “Wasn’t expecting anyone. Thought if it was you though that you’d let yourself in.” 

Regis held his tongue, wanting nothing more than to sit Geralt down and trim his beard. He knew from their time with the hansa that the witcher preferred to be clean-shaven, but hated trimming it himself. The vampire pushed the thought aside. “While I could have simply misted through your window, I didn’t wish to give you a fright.”

“How considerate,” Geralt said, voice rough but teasing. “You chose to wake me instead of letting yourself in.” 

“I assumed you’d be awake. I didn’t realize that respectable vineyard owners slept in until noon.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes at the well-natured jab before walking to his room, leaving the door open behind him. Regis remained in the foyer, focusing his attention on the rather impressive collection of witcher armor that Geralt had acquired. Yet, his supernatural hearing made it impossible not to eavesdrop to some extent; he heard the rustling of fabric and the soft thud of an article of clothing hitting the wooden floor. 

“Hey, Regis,” Geralt drawled. 

“Yes?” he replied a beat too quickly, turning towards the open door. 

“...Gonna get in here? Or do I need to invite you into every room?” 

Scrambling somewhat, the vampire entered just as Geralt tugged a clean white linen shirt over himself. At meeting the witcher’s gaze, the man gave a wide grin. “You came at a good time. I’ve actually got something for you. But close your eyes first.” 

“Geralt, what are you--” 

“Shh. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” 

A brief flash of fond irritation flickered in Regis’ expression as he gave a long sigh, but obeyed, shutting his eyes. He listened to the tempo of Geralt’s heart-rate, the usual slow and steady rhythm having quickened by a few beats. Ah, so he’s excited, Regis mused. Even witcher mutations couldn’t rob him of the biochemistry of his sympathetic nervous system. Then, a sour thought: I hope this isn’t the last time I get to witness such a jovial mood. 

The sound of his heartbeat grew stronger as the man approached, some sort of fabric draped in his arms, if the rustling earlier was any indication. Gently, Geralt placed the mystery item in Regis’ arms and backed away, the old floorboards creaking under his weight. 

“Happy birthday, Regis.” 

The vampire opened his eyes to see Geralt smiling warmly at him. Peering down, he couldn’t stop the look of absolute surprise upon his features, mouth agape.

“This is...” Regis trailed, fingers running delicately over the soft fabric, briefly pausing to rub his thumb against the black fur which lined the inside. 

“It’s not the exact cloak, given what happened at Stygga Castle,” Geralt paused, briefly wincing at the horrid memory, “But I thought you’d appreciate a new one.” 

Regis opened his mouth and then immediately closed it, unable to find the words to express how much the gift meant to him. You remembered... years passed and you still remembered. 

“I know you can’t feel heat or cold like humans do, but...” he shrugged, a hint of sheepishness in his posture, a hand rising up to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s been weird not seeing you with one. You never took that damn thing off so I thought it must have meant something to you.” 

“Geralt,” Regis finally replied once he found his voice again. It was the only warning he gave before the vampire laid the cloak on the bed and moved to seize the witcher in a tight embrace. 

Geralt looped his arms around Regis’ back in return, chuckling. He made no attempt at ending the embrace even as the time spent pressed together stretched on. “So... guessing you liked the gift, huh?” he finally asked, leaning into the gentle swaying of their bodies. 

When Regis spoke, it was barely past a whisper, but Geralt heard him all the same. “Thank you. Thank you for listening to me--for knowing me. Thank you, above all else, for being my friend.” 

“I think I should be thanking you. All I got you was a cloak--but you helped bring Ciri home. Almost gave up your life. Can’t imagine that... risking your immortality for someone like me.”  

“Geralt,” Regis started, pulling away to stare the witcher in the eyes, expression serious, “You are exactly the kind of person that inspires sacrifice. You have a noble heart and, despite your best attempts at proving otherwise, it is a heart full of compassion for others. I know you would have done the same if our roles had been reversed.” 

The witcher was silent then. When he finally managed a response, he did so while clasping Regis’ shoulder. It was something the vampire had noticed ever since meeting Geralt again--the man was more tactile than he’d been before his regeneration. As if he was making sure that Regis was real. Alive. Of flesh and bone. Not something that would crumble at his touch or slip through his fingers like a ghostly apparition. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your kind words, Regis. i haven’t always been... noble. There are things I haven’t told you about. Things that pertain to you.” At this, Geralt’s grip on his shoulder faltered and he pulled away suddenly, as if he were expecting to be hurt. “Truth is, I’ve been keeping a secret.” 

Regis blinked in surprise, a retort resting on the tip of his tongue, but he paused. He noticed, for the first time, that Geralt did look genuinely nervous. Geralt had never looked nervous in his presence--at least not because of Regis. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth all the same.

The vampire took a step forward. If Geralt was also planning to tell him a long-kept secret, then he wanted to tell his own confession first. While he still had the courage to do so. “I too have kept something from you, Geralt. I hope we can still remain as close as we were after this... revelation, if you will. But I understand if you’d prefer some time away from me afterwards.” 

“I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make me want you to keep your distance, Regis. Not after Stygga.” 

Regis gave an attempt at a half-hearted chuckle. “Hearing you say that really warms my heart--especially the certainty in your voice--but I’m afraid that what I need to say will change the course of our relationship, for better or worse. You see, Geralt, I’m... quite fond of you.” 

“I’m fond of you as well...” Geralt replied, confusion twisting his features. “Is that really your big secret?”

“Oh, for the love of--” Regis cut himself off, reaching instead with one hand to encircle Geralt’s wrist while the other cupped Geralt’s cheek. “I love you, you stubborn witcher. I’ve loved you for awhile now, really. Even before Stygga. You’re incredibly easy to fall in love with, though I see now that you’re completely oblivious to this trait.” 

Regis’ hold was gentle, light--something Geralt could easily pull away from if he wished to. But he didn’t. Staring into his own reflection within the coal black of the vampire’s eyes, Geralt closed the gap between them, answering Regis’ confession with his own: a kiss. 

Between kisses, Geralt paused, huffing out a short breath. “...You know, I’m feeling like a fool for not telling you that I loved you sooner, Regis.” 

“Likewise. Which is not something I feel all that often.” 

At this, they both laughed before resting their foreheads against each other. It had been a long road to this--to love--but it was well-earned. Later, Regis’ cloak found a home within a closet in Corvo Bianco. Though the weather in Toussaint was rarely cold enough to warrant a fur-lined cloak, Regis wore it as often as he could, but Geralt left an empty hanger in the closet all the same--just in case. 

Seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis... but now, watching the morning sunlight from the bedroom window pool against the witcher’s back, he felt a tug of warmth at the first touch of Fall, at the chance of donning his cloak and the memory of the day it was gifted to him. He didn’t want to replace the painful memories, the memories of those he loved but lost, but he also knew that somewhere, surely, Milva, Cahir, and Angouleme were smiling down at them. And that was a sense of peace with his past that he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

[paellaplease]

Revali x OC. Unpublished, additional scene to Chapter 5

Hello everyone,

A big thanks to the OG readers and newcomers to my blog and my botw fic: Firebird. Love you all. I wrote this scene some time ago in 2019, around the time when there wasn’t even a clear Ch.3 yet. Unfortunately, it had to be omitted due to pacing and plot. 

Now you all get to read it, enjoy!

Warning: firebird spoilers under the cut. 

[Context: It’s time for a tour. Revali is flying, Maiya is on his back. They are high-up in the air, gliding with a full view of Rito Village next to them.]

  Squinting her eyes, Maiya could see the movement of the Rito and other travelers of Hyrule as they went about their business. Some seemed to be waving goodbye or closing shop, and she realised belatedly how late in the day it already was.

The Enchanter’s gaze flicked up to the sky above her. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the bright expanse in oranges, pinks and greys in one of the prettiest sunsets she’d seen in a while. The colours of the sky reflected off the crystalline lake surrounding Valoo’s Spire, painting it in the same way as if it were its own canvas. The sight made her want to sigh dreamily. It really was beautiful.

"Wow." She whispered.

"Yes, I know," Revali's voice broke through her thoughts, reminding her of exactly who she was with right now. "Witnessing my unmatched skill in flight is always sight to behold."

Maiya’s easy smile sunk faster than a faulty boat on an icy lake as she regarded the blue Rito beneath her. "Not you dummy, I'm talking about your village!"

“You said a bad word,” a high-pitched voice chirped next to her.

Maiya jumped, nearly slipping and plummeting to the ground below. “Holy crap!”

(Revali sighed, tired with her clumsiness, complained as he immediately tilted to resteady her. “Like trying to keep a sinking boat afloat.”)

“Look! Cree! She did it again. That’s three times now! I think...”

Maiya looked to her left. Following the sound of the voice, she was soon face to face with a bright yellow Rito child, her little wings beating rapidly at her sides like an excitable bumblebee.

“Oh, hello…,” Maiya scratched the back of her neck in confusion. Where did she come from?

The Enchanter wasn’t the best with children. Not that she hated them or didn’t like having them around, but more so that she wasn’t very used to it. Having grown up in a village primarily of a rotating cast of seniors and Gorons (the latter’s average lifespan outnumbering hers by generations) she always found herself as the youngest in most given situations.

“Uh. Were you flying there the whole ti-”

“Are you a witch?” The child blurted.

What?

“Also why do you only have one glove? Didja lose the other one? And why does it smell like burnt moose?”

What?!

“Inti!” Another voice piped, this time lower-pitched and a little nasally.

It was from another Rito child. He was just as small, peeking out shyly from behind his yellow feathered friend. Maiya guessed that this was probably ‘Cree’.

He was jet black in colour and slightly bald. New feathers sprouted from the top of his head, giving him an overall messy appearance. Like most Rito children, his eyes were round and wide, carrying a gleam of wariness as he peered at her. His irises were a startling blue, reminding her of someone familiar.

Cree let out a surprised chirp upon noticing that Maiya had spotted him, moving to hide behind Inti again. “P-papa said it’s r-rude to interrupt p-people…,” she heard him mumble.

“I wasn’ being rude, Cree!” Inti squawked. If there was a floor beneath them, she would have stamped her talons. “I was just asking a question. Also, why do ya keep following me?” The yellow Rito flew to the right, exasperated when Cree did the same.

“D-don’t you remember that s-scary s-story old Yieni told us?” 

Inti giggled. “You really believed him?”

Her snickers turned into a belly laugh as she somersaulted through the air. “He said that enchanters had snakes for hair and would turn naughty Rito children into frogs-

“-and then eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner!” Cree finished, sounding horrified.

Maiya was speechless. Dear Hylia, what do I say to that?

Inti shook her head, “You know he’s just makin’ that up! Enchanters don’t really do that, right Revali?”

Maiya was surprised as Revali angled his head to look at her, dramatically narrowing his eyes as he made a show of assessing the Hylian for any ‘frog-magic capabilities’. She returned his scrutinizing gaze, resisting the urge to bare her teeth in challenge.

He smirked, “Oh they don’t, but this one definitely does.”

If her face didn’t feel like a furnace before, it definitely did now. “I absolutely do not!”

“By Valoo, look how red her face is! She’s just about ready to attack. Don’t worry, children. I, Revali: the most accomplished fighter of the Rito...’

More like the most god-awful and arrogant of the Rito.

“...cannot be beaten by weak magic such as hers.” With that, he struck a dramatic pose in the air, making Maiya yelp as she was jostled to the side.

The Hylian scowled, fists clenched. She was seconds from snapping back when a quiet laugh she hadn't heard before stopped her.

Cree's shoulders were shaking, trying and failing to hide the little snorts and giggles that escaped from his beak. He lifted his wings, adorably imitating Revali’s pose in the sky. 

So lost in his joy, he didn’t notice that he’d manage to detach himself from Inti’s side, moving closer to the two.

A gust of wind blew past them, reddening the tips of Maiya’s ears and softly caressing the ends of her messy bandana. Cold as it was up here, the breeze was mildly comforting. It swirled and whistled around them, seeming to disappear in an instant, taking her anger with Revali along with it.

It gave her an idea.

“I’ll prove it.”

Straightening her posture and anchoring herself to Revali with her dominant left hand, Maiya used her free arm to reach behind her head, picking out a few pins and untying the knot that held her bandana together.

The two young Ritos paused in their laughing to look at her, curious as to what she was doing.

After a few strong tugs the knot loosened, allowing her to yank it down to her neck and free the hair bundled up underneath. Everything fell messily over her face and shoulders. 

The wind chose this as a terrible time to pick up again, sending her uneven dark locks waving wildly in the open air. It was like a blanket of midnight or coal, a dark shroud contrasting against the lavender sky of twilight.

“Pfffft, okay I didn’t think that through,” Maiya said, batting a few locks away that managed to tangle and land in her mouth, “But see! No snakes.”

Worryingly, the group went quiet. After a moment, she began to wonder if her plan had backfired. Maiya bit her lip, smoothing her hair back, feeling dejected as it returned to waving chaotically above her like before. 

How dishevelled did she look right now? Was she weird? Scary?

Truly arsed it now, Maiya. This is what happens when you try to lighten the mood. Is the truth any better than the stories, anyway? Turning things to ash and burning anything that so much as startles you. The destruction at least was consistent.

Slightly disheartened, her gaze fell to both her hands. Her first few years in the forge were...tumultuous. She could recall the many times Teacher told her to stay away from the other smiths before she finally learned how to control her emotions and stifle the flames from the overreacting rune. Her left hand twitched at the memory, feeling prickly as if she was running her palm over sandpaper. A small hint of blue leaked from the glove’s burnt holes and scratches. “I…”

She looked up, about to dismiss her actions with a bad joke, when Inti reached out.

Maiya froze. A small wing gently brushed past a messy section of her hair, strands flowing over the young Rito’s feathers like a dark river over a field of rye. The little Rito gasped, marvelling at the way it twisted and turned in the wind. “It’s so soft,” she whispered. “And black like the nighttime!” 

The yellow Rito flew closer, careful to dodge a few rogue strands as she picked up more hair and laughed. “It’s pretty, just like your feathers, Cree!”

Her friend hung his head bashfully, secretly smiling from the compliment.

Maiya felt the knot in her chest unwind, slowly disappearing as she gazed fondly at the two young Ritos. These kids are too sweet. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she felt slightly better as she turned her attention back to Revali, noticing that he was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Believe me, now?” she teased.

Revali blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever trance he was in. Hilariously, the feathers surrounding his neck puffed up. 

Ha! Maiya chuckled, smoothing down the ones closest to her in pity. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at her, opening his beak to reply-

“INTI! CREE! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

The group flinched as a shrill voice echoed from the village below.

“Uh oh,” Inti said, “that’s my mom.”

Cree rushed back to the yellow Rito’s side, nudging her back towards the village in a panic. “We w-were supposed to b-be b-back ages ago!”

“Okay, okay! ‘M goin’!”

“Bye, Revali! Bye-uh…,”

“Maiya,” she supplied helpfully.

“Maiya!” Inti chirped. “I’ve never met an Enchanter before, but you’re nice!” She turned around then, letting Cree lead her back home. The two little Rito’s whizzed away, flying further and further till they were just black and yellow blobs in the distance. Maiya sighed, shaking her head.

She and Revali were alone in the sky once again. A comfortable minute of silence settled between them, only to be broken by the blue Rito letting out an obviously fake yawn. “It’s late. We should head back. I’ve already wasted enough time playing tour guide for you.”

“Technically you haven’t done anything, other than getting me up here.” Maiya huffed, pointing to the village below, “You haven’t even told me the names of most of these places, how am I supposed to know how to get to the blacksmiths tomorrow?”

Revali tsked, “Very well. I’ll give you the abridged version on the way to Swallow’s Roost.”

“Thanks. Also,” her voice darkened, taking on a cutting edge that she rarely used in most cases.

“What in Din’s Name was that? Diving off the ledge? Was it really necessary?”

*

[you-guys--are-losers]

Can you write a fic where Peter tries to keep his relationship with MJ a secret but the other Avengers do some spying and try to figure out who she is?

//Okay, so I LOVE the originality of this prompt! I also, for my 900 followers request, got this prompt request from @melodytheravenclaw:

20 (meet the family) Spideychelle I would find it hilarious for MJ to meet the Avengers family :) 

I think the two will tie nicely together, and I can’t wait to show this to you!  can’t wait to give this to you guys. :) Hope you like it! 

A Joint Effort

Summary: When Sam, Clint, and Bucky catch Peter flirting with a mysterious contact over text, they make it their personal mission to figure out who it is– and they are more than willing to drag the rest of the Avengers into the mix.  

Warnings: Language, Endgame Spoilers, Secondhand Embarrassment 

Word Count:

Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Several months following the Final Battle, the compound is rebuilt 

Slowly, but surely, the remaining Avengers begin to take up residence in the rooms again

Maybe it’s a bit strange to return to the place where so much was lost, but there’s something poetic about taking up residence with the others who won and lost so much that day 

And almost anything is better than returning to empty apartments where the quiet is much too loud

Among others, Bucky returns to stay at the compound, as well as Sam, Wanda, and Bruce

Some of the others keep rooms in the compound and visit regularly, despite the fact that they have other lodgings because it’s important to remain in contact and the community can be nice

One of the members of this category is Peter Parker

At first, no one is quite sure what to make of the lanky teen hanging around the compound

Half the time the kid is making obscure references that no one understands

And the other half he is taking shortcuts across the compound by walking on the walls with his school supplies sticking to him as he looks for somewhere comfortable to study for his exams 

But the rest of the Avengers have an unspoken agreement to give the kid the same treatment as the rest of them

After all, he is an Avenger 

And they all remember the look on his face when he had to let go of his mentor’s nearly lifeless body

So they all get used to Peter Parker’s frequent visits and the enthusiasm with which he approaches the chance to respond to any little disturbance

And soon, Peter is just as much a part of the compound as the excessive number of glass panes

However, there is one unintended side effect to the Avengers becoming accustomed to Peter’s presence

Because now that they are more comfortable with Peter 

They are more at ease with screwing with him 

It starts one morning in the kitchen while Clint is visiting the compound

It’s 12 ‘o clock on a Saturday, and Peter is eating lunch at the kitchen counter when Sam, Bucky, and Clint barge in for breakfast

Really Bucky just starts on breakfast for the other two, since it was a late night and he can hold his liquor a lot better than the other two

Clint and Sam are seated at bar stools by the island while Peter leans against the countertop, spooning Cocoa Puffs into his mouth with one hand while he scrolls through his phone with the other

It is while he is doing this that Sam catches a glimpse of Peter’s phone screen

“Who are you texting, kid?” 

Peter glances up from his phone, nearly dropping his spoon into his cereal when he finds all three of the mildly-hungover Avengers staring at him with interest

“Oh, um, nobody, I just-” 

“Nobody, really?” Clint presses, a little grin sliding onto his face

“A red heart and a spider emoji? That doesn’t look like nobody,” Sam replies, leaning over to glance at Peter’s phone again

Peter quickly powers his phone down, swallowing as he scoops up his bowl of chocolatey milk, saying, “I’m just gonna, um…” 

And then Peter’s gone, leaving an empty spot at the kitchen island and three Avengers who are determined to figure out who Peter Parker is seeing

They bring it up again later that night, when the kid has headed back home to Queens, and it is in the compound’s kitchen that they decide they are going to have to join forces

Wanda, who shares a wall with Peter, agrees to join in in order to figure out who Peter is talking to at three in the morning every night 

And T’challa, who is passing through on a diplomatic mission, joins in because when he brings it up to Shuri over text, she gets way too smug about it and refuses to explain 

Bruce is initially opposed to the idea, because “The kid needs his privacy,” but he caves when they suggest that maybe this is the reason the Wi-Fi has been so slow lately

So, once they’ve got their team together, the game begins

Bruce makes the mistake of contacting Ned, relying on their joint star power as a sufficient motive for Peter’s best friend to spill the beans

And it’s true, Ned does freak out, communicating largely through keyboardsmashes for a good stretch 

But he also immediately contacts Peter, relaying Bruce’s question: “Do you know who Peter’s been texting lately? We know it’s not you, but we can’t figure out who.” 

And as soon as Peter knows, he suits up for battle

His phone is never out anymore, not even when he’s lounging around the compound

It’s always shoved down in his pocket, safely adhered there by a little bit of webbing

It’s not like Sam discovered this when he attempted to snatch the phone from his pocket and nearly pantsed the kid

Because that would be ridiculous conduct for a United States Air Force Vet

The kid doesn’t even open it in front of them anymore, and he answers any questions they ask him with one word before vanishing into his room in the compound again

After a week or so of this, the Avengers decide that it’s time to change their strategy

Thanks to Wanda, they know that Peter has been spending his nights staying up into ungodly hours of the morning

So now, it’s just a matter of catching Peter at the right moment

Though Clint and T’challa have other homes to return to, Wanda, Sam, and Bruce are able to split up the duty of finding increasingly more desperate reasons to enter Peter’s room 

The first few times, they find Peter hurriedly making himself appear busy, either by faking sleep with a glowing square under his blanket or by grabbing the nearest item to him 

Once or twice, when they enter the room they find Peter hurriedly trying to look invested in an upside-down textbook

The effort goes on for a week and a half or so

It comes to a screeching halt, however, after a failed attempt

Sam and Bruce hear Peter making noise and can see light coming under the door, but when they open it, what they really find is Peter crying while watching Moulin Rouge

Never wanting to witness such a sight again, it is decided that it will be necessary to attempt yet another change in strategy

This time, the Avengers defer to Bruce

His argument is that he, as one of the kid’s scientific idols, is probably best-equipped to get it out of him using a softer approach

So, with their end goal in mind, the others wait in the living room as Bruce enters the kitchen, where the kid is getting another cup of juice

Is a softer strategy necessary? Maybe. Is there such thing as too soft? Definitely 

Because, instead of getting the identity of “Red Heart Spider Emoji,” Bruce somehow manages to initiate a conversation about Peter’s growing body and the different needs he might be experiencing at this time

As amusing as the stammering of the mortified kid might be in any other situation, the listening Clint, T’Challa, Wanda, and Sam are all painfully aware of the failure of this attempt to get a name out of Peter

And when the kid leaves the room clearly wishing the ground would swallow them up, everyone seems to be in agreement that maybe, sometimes, not every mission has to be a success 

So, after the final attempt, the Avengers put the matter to rest 

Little do they know, however, how close their attempts are to coming to fruition 

Not even three weeks later, a new mission has come in for the heroes, and they are ready to take off

The Avengers will be heading to Wakanda in order to examine and neutralize a perceived threat to the production of Wakandan vibranium, which not only would cause economic panic but also could potentially provide dangerous technology to enemies over the interplanetary black market

The mission is going to be long, and depending on how innovative their enemies are with the new material, it could likely be dangerous

Luckily it’s during the summer, so the kid at least won’t be missing out on class, but Peter’s skill set has proven integral to the team before, so he’s coming with 

It’s early afternoon, and they’re about ready to load out. There’s a Wakandan helicopter at the compound that is ready to take them, and the team begins the walk across the pad to the chopper, the whirring blades of which create a deafening noise across the green

She arrives so quickly that at first, they don’t see her 

However, as they approach their transportation, Bruce holds out a hand where he is leading them from the front of the group, gesturing to a figure that is hurtling towards them across the lawn 

The team takes up a defensive stance out of habit, but it is almost immediately proven to be unnecessary 

Because, as it gets closer, the blur moving towards them across the compound reveals itself to be a girl, tall and skinny as she jogs across the grass in her combat boots

The winds created by the chopper send her dark, curly hair flying wildly around her face as she approaches, teasing it into a mess that only further increases her hurried, disheveled appearance

Though they relax, the Avengers do not completely abandon their defensive positions

Except for Peter

The youngest Avenger straightens to his full height with a widening of his mechanical eyes, hands instinctively moving to straighten the Iron Spider Suit that is practically plastered to his body 

Once he realized the folly of his attempt, Peter steps forward, pulling the mask off of his face as he does so 

The rest of the Avengers exchange wary glances, at least until the girl draws to a stop in front of them 

Now, they can get a good look at her, and things begin to make a bit more sense

The rest of the Avengers watch as the girl runs a hand through her wild curls, brushing them away from her face

Though she stands tall and her face is composed, the slight widening of her eyes and the breathless nature of her appearance makes her look even more nervous than any of them 

“MJ?” Peter blurts, his own eyes wide and confused

He scans her appearance with obvious concern, but his eyes come to rest on her own deep brown irises as he poses the question in all of their minds

“Why are you here?” 

MJ doesn’t appear to be the least bit fazed by the question, but she is still tense as she answers

“You didn’t say goodbye, asshole,” she pants, clearly winded from her run 

Her eyes travel to the other Avengers for a moment, and she offers them a tight nod before looking back at Peter, not even a little put-off by the massive, hulking heroes who are all eyeing her

“Oh,” Peter replies, dumbstruck, not looking away from her

For a moment, the tension continues, and no one says a word

The newcomer, however, appears more nervous than ever, and her following actions betray why 

“You know what, Parker? Screw it,” she decides, striding even closer to Peter

She approaches with all the bravado of a soldier, walking with purpose until their chests are practically touching and Peter steels himself for a blow

Sam and Bucky watch with interest, not daring to blink in case they miss the moment she decks him

The punch doesn’t come, however

Because instead, MJ reaches down, takes his jaw in her hands, closes her eyes, and brings her lips crashing into Peter’s own

The boy’s eyes widen as she does so, but they almost immediately flutter shut the way hers have

After an initial stiffening, Peter relaxes into the kiss, and the rest of the Avengers stare on in utter shock as the two share a moment, hair and clothing blowing in the wind created by the chopper blades

When MJ finally lets go, her eyes open immediately

They are wide, but they shine as they look down at the boy whose cheeks are cupped in her hands, one of which rises to brush his cheekbone before she lets him go 

And then, as Peter stares at her, she speaks a simple command: 

“Come back to me.” 

Before he can say another word, MJ has turned around, and she returns the way she came with a renewed energy in her gait

For a few moments, the team watches her walk away, hopping the fence so that she is a safe distance from the helicopter

No one says anything as Peter turns to watch her leave, then turns back with a broad grin on his face before he pulls the mask over it

Sam is the one who breaks the silence: 

“So that’s Ms. Red Heart, Spider Girl.” 

Even through the mask, the mechanical eyes seem to glow as Peter says, “Maybe she is.” 

Without another word, Peter turns to climb onto the chopper, but Sam shouts, “Hey!” to stop him 

One the kid has turned around, he is greeted with varying degrees of pleasure on the faces that stare back at him 

Wanda is trying and failing to hide a little smirk, Bruce is beaming, Clint offers the kid a lopsided grin, and Bucky spares one nod with gleaming eyes 

It’s Sam, though, who really smiles

“Don’t mess it up with that one, kid. We like her.” 

[pomegranate-belle]

Fic or treat - Matt and Foggy during that one Halloween ep of Spiderman where people turn into the monsters they dress up as for the night (doctor strange helps sort everything out if I recall correctly)

I guess this is a recurring Halloween Thing (Buffy, Halloweentown, and now apparently Ultimate Spider-Man) and honestly I love it with all my heart and soul. So this got... Long. Also I just sidestepped the actual plot of the episode because Baron Mordo sucks eggs and I don’t care about him, lol

—

Foggy’s still adding the last touches to his costume and hasn’t put it on yet — that’s the only thing that saves him. But the second a blast of orange light radiates across the city, he knows something fucked-up freaky is going down.

“Oh jeez,” he mutters to himself, watching through the window as the energy continues to spread like ripples on a pond. “Matty, you might wanna go get your other Halloween costume.”

There’s a groan of pain from behind him. Foggy whirls around.

“Matt, what—”

But Matt doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, more like. He’s staggering around, hands clutched to his head. Foggy has no idea if it’s a direct effect of the freaky magic flooding the city or if whatever that magic is doing is overloading Matt’s supersenses, but either way he can’t just stand by and let his boyfriend suffer. He rushes over and wraps Matt in a hug — takes as much of Matt’s weight as he can, tries to cocoon him so his senses have time to settle or acclimate or whatever they need to do.

“I got you,” he murmurs nonsensically. “I got you, Matty, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok, just breathe with me, buddy, just breathe—”

All Foggy’s reassurances are choked off when a clawed hand closes around his throat. He’s shoved backwards, into the wall, and Matt’s...

Matt’s gone.

In his place, the figure Foggy had been holding — that not a minute ago had been the love of his life — is otherworldly and terrifying. Its skin is cold to the touch, and flecks of gold freckle its face, creep down from its ears to the familiar arch of its cheekbones. It has Matt’s messy, dark hair but his eyes, still unseeing based on the way they don’t track, glow ice blue. It still wears the white tunic Matt had put on, but the cloth is clearly of finer quality. What was once a sparkly golden pipe-cleaner halo is now an aura of radiance so bright it makes Foggy’s eyes water. Oh yeah, and this thing’s got a pair of fuck-off enormous white wings instead of the tiny, goofy-looking faux-feather ones Matt had strapped on like a backpack not five minutes ago.

When it opens its mouth — Matt’s mouth — and speaks, the words are unintelligible and so powerful that Foggy instinctively stops trying to remove the hand from around his throat and claps his palms to his ears instead. He has an alarming thought — that he’s going to die here — and the very distant realization that Matt would be completely enraged about him giving up. But even if this... Angel. Thing. Even if it’s not Matt anymore, it was him. And Foggy has to believe the magic that changed him is going to be undone. There’s like a hundred fucking superheroes in Manhattan alone so like, it had god damn better be undone. And when it is, who knows if any injuries sustained will carry over? Foggy could never risk hurting Matt like that. He just couldn’t.

Jessica Jones does not have this problem.

Foggy learns that the second she comes bursting through the door of the apartment and discus-throws her unconscious vampire boyfriend right at Angel Matt’s unprotected back. Not that Foggy actually sees any of this — because, again, fuck-off big swan wings — but once he’s able to breathe again he’s also able to put the series of events together thanks to context clues. Flattened angel plus unconscious Hero of Harlem with an open, snoring mouth and especially pointy canines plus panting, disheveled Jess? The math’s not hard. He and Jess stare at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“You ok there, Nelson?” she asks at last, gruffly, before stepping forward to sling her enormous boyfriend into a fireman’s carry.

“Yeah? I’m good, I think. Mostly. Um...” Foggy points at the knocked out form of Luke draped over Jess’s shoulder. “How did you...?”

“Vulcan nerve pinch,” she says flatly, but doesn’t give Foggy the necessary space to determine if it’s a joke or not. “Now come on, you’re the one who knows every-fucking-body, who do we need to stomp to fix this?”

Good to know you saved me because you were concerned for my safety or something, Foggy thinks but is smart enough not to say.

“I don’t know who did it,” he admits, now that he has the time to think, “but that guy Strange who lives in the Village is supposed to be a wizard or something. Maybe it’s one of his baddies.”

Jess slams a fist into her open palm, murder in her eyes, then immediately has to break the pose to stop Luke from slumping onto the floor.

“Well he better fix it or I’m gonna kick his ass,” she insists, clearing her throat and straightening up again.

Foggy does not dignify this with an answer, and to further pretend he didn’t just witness Jess fumble Luke like a football he crouches down to check on Matt. He doesn’t seem to be unconscious, although at first it’s a little hard to tell based on the ethereal, retina-searing glow around his head. But upon inspection, the prone angel is in a pose Foggy knows well — Matt’s ‘I’m suffering and I refuse to move’ pose. Often adopted whilst sick or otherwise mildly inconvenienced, and never done while seriously injured. Which is good, Foggy supposes.

“Up and at ‘em, Matty,” he mutters, slowly and gently closing his hands around the angel’s and noting that Matt’s newly clawed nails are tipped in gold.

Matt gets to his feet without a fuss, just tilting his head to the side curiously. He sniffs. Once. Twice. Then flips their handhold so his fingers are circling Foggy’s wrists and pins him to the wall again. This time, though, instead of strangling him, he buries his nose in Foggy’s throat, sniffling at his pulse point like a weirdo.

“Hey! Murdock! Don’t make me come over there!” Jess snaps.

“It’s good, we’re good!” insists Foggy shrilly. “He’s um. He’s just. Sniffing me.”

“Fucking weirdo.”

But there’s no thud of Luke being used as a blunt weapon again, so at least she’s listening to him. After another ten uncomfortable seconds, Angel Matt pulls back. Slowly and gently, he lets go of Foggy’s wrists before combing the fingers of one clawed hand through Foggy’s hair. Then he smiles and speaks.

The expression, combined with the musical but incomprehensible words, is so beautiful that tears begin to streak down Foggy’s face. Angel Matt brushes them away with the side of his thumb.

Jess ruins the moment by groaning in frustration.

“Ok, we get it, gay love conquers all, can we get a move on before my boyfriend wakes up and tries to tear out my throat again?” she demands.

Which, to be fair to her, doesn’t sound like a great time. Matt’s wings flare angrily and he spits more crazy angel language at Jess that sounds like a threat, but Foggy is able to soothe him easily enough. After that, he tows Matt along by the hand like a particularly docile six-year-old and they set out without further incident.

—

The problem with having a huge city-wide curse fucking up everyone’s night is that getting a cab is impossible. On the bright side, Jess is one of the few people Foggy knows who actually owns a car. Then again, it’s usually hard enough fitting everyone inside that car without a potentially-murderous vampire and an angel with a fifteen foot wingspan to consider. They’re still trying to figure out the logistics when a horde of monsters descends upon them. Foggy counts two zombies — and there’s a frightening thought, are those guys contagious? — a werewolf, a ninja, and some kind of terrifying... Fish person. There’s lots of snarling, howling, and gnashing of teeth. Foggy really wishes he hadn’t been so preoccupied with Matt and had the foresight to grab his baseball bat on the way out the door.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got like, a tire iron in there or something?” he asks Jess as they’re backed up against her car.

“What do I look like, a mechanic? I’ve barely got gas in this piece of shit car.”

“Cool, great,” Foggy says, too strained to be as sarcastic as he wants since this is about as far from cool and great as it’s possible to get.

Then Matt squeezes his hand and lets go. Foggy scrambles to try and pull him back to safety, but his strides are long — too long for any normal human, like he’s gliding instead of walking. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing squarely between them and the monsters, and then he flares his wings wide enough to block them all from view. Foggy can still hear snarling, but he has to squeeze his eyes shut as the luminance around Matt ramps up about a thousand percent. There’s hissing, yelping, and the slap of feet on concrete, and the light turning the back of Foggy’s eyelids orange only fades after the sounds of retreat abate into silence.

“Holy shit, Murdock,” Jess mutters. “Maybe we oughta keep you like this.”

“Jones,” Foggy scolds. “Rude.”

He opens his eyes to find Matt now facing him as though waiting for something.

“What, Matty?”

“Fuck’s sake, Nelson,” says Jess, “he just saved our bacon — you gonna thank him or what?”

Matt continues to stare — for a certain value of stare, Foggy supposes — in his general direction expectantly.

“Um. Yes, thank you,” Foggy says, and probably because he’s gone completely insane, reaches up to pat Matt on the head. “You, um... Did good? Yes. Good job.”

Matt leans into the touch, beaming, and honest to god the expression is almost brighter than the glow of his halo. Jess makes a very rude gagging noise as she stuffs her still-snoring boyfriend into the trunk. Matt and his wings, even folded up, take up the whole back seat, so Foggy rides shotgun. With monsters of all shapes and sizes roaming the city streets, what would otherwise be a pretty boring car ride ends up feeling like a chase scene in Jurassic Park, but at last they make it. Foggy wasn’t a hundred percent on the address but Strange’s place is pretty hard to miss. It’s enormous and scary-looking and it’s got a big skylight in the shape of some round symbol that probably has magical significance.

There’s no answer when they knock on the door, except for a “doctor is out” sign that flickers into existence, along with a huge padlock — you know, just in case they weren’t getting the message. Foggy’s torn between being weirded out and being amused that the creepy mansion has a sense of humor.

“He’s not even home?!” Jess kicks the door, hard. “This is bullshit!”

She lets out a wordless, frustrated shout, and Luke startles awake. He’s on his feet almost immediately, eyes glowing blood red. Matt wraps his arms around Foggy from behind, casting huge shadows with his flared wings. But Luke? There’s no recognition of Jess there, except as food. None of the half-domesticated sentience Matt’s been showing, just snarling animal hunger. Luke’s such a chill, reasonable guy that the contrast is shocking and even if he hadn’t been held back Foggy wouldn’t have been able to do more than freeze in terror as Luke pinned Jess to the wall of Strange’s mansion and lunged for her throat. Jess, thankfully, is more of a fight instinct person than a freeze instinct one. Also she’s got superstrength. She catches Luke’s wrist and flips him like a pancake. Once he’s on the ground and winded, she really, genuinely does Vulcan nerve pinch him back to sleep, which is wild. Foggy had been leaning sixty-forty towards her being joking about that.

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “That was impressive.”

“Impressive? Impressive?!” Jess is laughing, but the sound is sharp and bitter. “It should’ve been me,” she growls, stomping back down to the sidewalk and kicking a stray soda can so hard it embeds itself in the wall of a building across the street. “Fuck. I hate seeing him like this. I’m already— half fucking feral, and he’s got that unbreakable skin. It should have been me! He’d probably just sit there calmly and let me try to bite him while he worked out how to fix everything, and all I can do is be a, a panicked fuck-up!”

“Jess!” Foggy scolds sharply, extricating himself from Matt’s arms to confront her. “You’re not a fuck-up. You kept Luke safe. You didn’t let him hurt anyone. You got us here. Look, if Strange isn’t home then maybe that means he’s out fixing this. That’s a good thing. You just need to take a deep breath. We‘ll rest here a little bit, then we’ll start driving back — dollars to donuts whatever big fight is probably going down right now is in, like, Times Square or something, because it literally always is with you super-people.”

Jess makes another frustrated noise that Foggy hopes isn’t going to end with him going through a wall, and then plops down on Dr. Strange’s porch. He settles in beside her, and Matt perches beside him. Luke’s still sprawled in front of them, snoring again. They wait quietly for a good ten minutes, and the tension fades from the air.

Foggy’s just about to suggest they get up and start heading back the way they came when there’s another blast of orange magic — this time running in reverse, moving in towards an epicenter instead of out from it. It washes through them with a disorienting whoosh and leaves behind two dazed boyfriends in simple, cobbled-together costumes.

Foggy’s never been so happy to see a lopsided pipe cleaner halo in his life. He kisses Matt full on the mouth. Matt kisses back eagerly but is also the first to pull away.

“Not that, not that I’m, um, complaining but... What was that for?” he asks, baffled but clearly amused. “And... Where are we?”

So then Foggy has to explain, while watching Jess rip the cheap plastic fangs out of Luke’s mouth and stomp on them repeatedly, exactly how the four of them ended up in front of Dr. Strange’s creepy magic mansion.

“So anyway,” he finishes lamely, “I guess somebody saved the day or something, but we didn’t do much.”

Matt shakes his head.

“You did wonderfully.” He takes a deep breath, the way he always does when he’s gathering himself to say something emotional. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Foggy says, and the flush of embarrassed pleasure that colors Matt’s cheeks in response is sweeter than any candy.

[breachtopology]

prompt: we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me?? \\ requested by @hermannsthumb

sorry this is so late (but it’s still halloween on the west coast? did I make it??) some shatterdome-era, halloween-themed com dram.

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Newt cracks an eye open, waking from a nap he hadn’t realized he was taking. He lifts his head and looks where it had previously been resting—on Hermann’s bare chest. Newt’s eyes drag upward to Hermann’s face—eyes still closed, gently resting.  

Reaching over to his nightstand without looking, Newt first mistakenly grabs his glasses, then his remote for the A/C setup he cobbled together from scrap jaeger metal (not officially approved, but no one has to know), Newt finally picks up his phone and checks the time. He bolts upright immediately. “Uh.” He glances down at Hermann. “Not to kick you out, but I’m gonna need to kick you out.”

Hermann props himself up on his elbows. “Oh?” He says coolly. “Plans this evening?”

“The Halloween party, dude!” Newt exclaims, leaping up out of bed, tossing the covers back so forcefully that they’re flung off Hermann as well. “It’s only like, my favorite holiday out of the whole year.”

With a yawn, Hermann reclines back onto Newt’s mattress and pulls the comforter back over himself. “In July you said Christmas was your favorite holiday,” he says up at the ceiling.

“It was in the heat of the moment,” Newt says, fishing through various piles of clothes—piles he insists are clean but just haven’t been put away yet. “We really do need some kind of mid-year holiday to break things up, you know? Why save all the good stuff for the last three months? Anyway.” Newt retrieves a white tank from one such pile and pulls it on. “I’d invite you to come,” he says as casually as possible. “But there’s a strict costume policy.”

“How gracious of you,” Hermann says, again in that cool tone. “I’m not interested in costumes.”

“Or socializing, or games, or fun. Yeah, I get it.” Newt hops into a pair of tan pants, belting them at record speed. “Now hurry up, will you?”

Hermann groans as he sits upright. His hair is mussed and sticking up at odd ends. Newt swallows down an impulse to run his hands through it one more time, to straighten it, to tuck it in place just the way Hermann likes it.

Instead, he tosses a discarded white shirt from the floor of his quarters, pelting Hermann squarely in the chest. “Here.” He follows up with a deep maroon sweater. “We’re burning daylight.”

---

They step out into the concrete hallway of the Shatterdome and start to walk toward the Mess Hall, the same direction as Hermann’s own quarters.

“You could have given me a bit more time,” Hermann grumbles, fussing with his hair, still sticking up a bit at odd ends. “I look...disheveled.”

“Hey, it’s working for you.” Newt steps in front of Hermann quickly, but continues to walk backward as he holds his arms out wide for display. “How do I look?”

Hermann looks him up and down. After a short pause, he says, “I can’t evaluate your costume until I know who or what you’re supposed to be.”

“John McClane!” Newt falls back to Hermann’s side. “You’ve seen /Die Hard/, right? Tell me you’ve seen Die Hard.”

“I’ve seen Die Hard,” Hermann says, deadpan.

“You’re lying. It’s okay. You’re forgiven. It’s unforgivable. But I forgive you.”

“Gracious of you,” Hermann murmurs with a small smile. He tugs at his sweater collar. “It’s bloody warm.”

“There’s an easy solution for that, Erdos,” Newt quips. “It’s what you get for wearing sub-zero-ready knitwear in a tropical climate.”

Hermann scowls and stops, handing Newt his cane as he proceeds to pull his sweater over his head. He looks down and lets out a groan. “Newton, this is—“

“Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb!”

Mako approaches from the other end of the hallway, clad in a long black trench coat—clearly borrowed from someone who was at least a foot taller and broader than her—and thin sunglasses.

“Mako!” Newt waves. “Are you Neo? Dude, did you watch The Matrix? Amazing, right? That is so badass.”

She lifts her sunglasses and smiles broadly. “Keanu Reeves, he’s the best.” She lifts her sunglasses and considers Newt’s attire.

“Dr. Geiszler...Are you...someone whose clothes have been stolen?”

Newt twitches. “I’m John McClane. Die Hard? Don’t worry about it, it’s from before your time.”

Mako shrugs and smiles politely as she turns her attention to Hermann. “Dr. Gottlieb, you are a...Velvet Underground fan?”

“No, Newton is—“

Newt snaps his attention to his left and sees what Hermann had noticed—under his maroon sweater was Newt’s own Velvet Underground t-shirt, the iconic Andy Warhol banana print. Something that Hermann would never wear, on principle.

Hermann is wide-eyed in surprise. “Er, what I meant to say is...” He clears his throat. “That’s, er my costume,” he says simply. “Newton.”

“WHAT?” Newt exclaims reflexively, unable to stop himself. The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitch upwards. His expression is some bizarre distribution of mortified and smug. “I—...Yes.”

“That is cute.” Mako looks back at Newt, mildly disappointed. “I’m surprised you did not come as each other.” Before Newt can protest and explain, she lowers her sunglasses back down, strikes a pose of such genuine intensity that Newt feels momentarily frozen, before breaking out into a smile and gently leading the two of them, each with one hand, into the mess hall.

Tendo, leaning casually on the snack table, greets the two of them as they grab a couple of drinks—beer that had been snuck into the Shatterdome by some brave anonymous individual, he explains. “So,” he says to Newt. “What are you, a discount construction worker?”

Newt flips him off. Tendo laughs and turns to Hermann. “What’s your ‘stume, doc?”

Newt watches Hermann take another drink before responding, “I’m, er. Newt.” He laughs nervously. “It’s a shallow approximation—“

“Don’t sweat it, doc, no one’s got time to do anything detailed.” Tendo waves his plastic fangs. “You know. More important stuff going on. But—“ he pauses to put the fangs in. “You’ll also be amazed at how far an impression goes to sell it. I’m sure you’ve got some stories.”

"Well, yes, just the other day...” He glances quickly at Newt. Newt looks back at him and crosses his arms.

Hermann straightens up and starts speaking, more quickly and pitched than usual. “‘OSHA procedures are more guidelines than rules,’” he says, quoting—Newt realizes—something Newt had said the day before. A few near bystanders turn their heads to casually tune in. “‘So by extension, I’m the Captain Barbossa of lab safety.’”

A few scattered laughs. Hermann looks around, shocked, possibly by the getting any sort of reaction and possibly by his own delivery.

“Ha!” A nearby J-Tech officer exclaims. “That is legit.” He turns to someone on his left. “I heard the Marshall chew him out a couple weeks ago for—“

“Hey, asshole.” Newt shoots him a glare. “Shut up.” It’s not intelligent, Newt knows, but it’s enough to make a new officer wince.

Tendo lets out a laugh and claps Hermann on the shoulder. “Good one, doc.” He glances at Newt and smirks before taking a sip from his cup. Newt calls that glance and raises it with a death glare that fully transmits, Don’t you say a fucking word.

The initial bystanders disperse. Newt crosses his arms. “That’s not an impression. That’s just one single thing I said once. Taken way out of context, I might add.”

Hermann starts to silently fish through the candy bowl on the snack table.

Newt leans over to watch. “Lookin’ for something?”

At last, Hermann meticulously plucks a green Jolly Rancher from the bowl. “Green is the best flavor,” he says facetiously, delicately unwrapping it from the plastic. “Never mind that green isn’t a flavor but a color.” He pops it into his mouth and grimaces. “These are so sweet,” he says, returning to his usual tone. “Newton, how on earth do you eat these.

Newt rolls his eyes before taking a green Jolly Rancher out of the bowl for himself. “That green was wasted on you, dude” But when he looks back at Hermann he’s smiling slightly, albeit not looking in his direction.

---

For the next half hour, Newt tries to keep a safe distance from Hermann. He makes lap around the mess hall. One engineer, dressed as a pirate (basic, but effective) calls out, “John McClane!” And Newt makes a show cheering and giving her a high-five that is audible throughout the hall.

But the space is finite, and eventually his path leads him back to Hermann, who’s at the center of a small group of PPDC staff who are amused by his current monologuing. Newt slides up behind them and catches Hermann in mid-sentence.

“—and it’s an album from the point of view of a man who’s wretched, who is confronting his misdoings, his mistreatment of others, his skewed relationship with love, in this operatic way—“

In that moment, it strikes Newt that Hermann may have actually been listening. Through all the monologues, through all the rants. Newt flushes with equal parts embarrassment in the accuracy and another feeling he’s tried to push down for seven years.

“But the thing about Weezer,“ Hermann continues, emphasizing the band with an American emphasis on the -er, “Is that they created two perfect albums, so their next twelve mediocre ones are forgivable—“

“The White Album is not mediocre!” Newt finally exclaims from behind the small group, unable to stop himself. He pushes forward and softly grabs Hermann by the arm. Hermann looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, defiant. Newt turns around at the small group casually listening in. “Yeah, yeah, he’s great—excuse us for a sec, will ya?” Without waiting for a reply, he gently pulls his colleague by the arm to the hallway outside, promptly stepping in close, so Hermann is the only thing between Newt and the wall.

“What the hell, dude?” Newt hisses.

Hermann leans his head back against the concrete wall. “Being you is very easy,” he says scathingly.

With a short laugh, and Newt goes in for the kiss. Rough and agitated, how this sequence of events typically starts out. How things started hours prior in the lab, resulting in the change of location to Newt’s room to tear off one another’s clothes as quickly as possible. He slips a hand under Hermann’s/Newt’s own shirt and slides it up and beside Hermann’s ribcage, pulling him in closer.

“This is a new level of narcissism,” Hermann says breathlessly when Newt pulls away. “Even for you.”

“Says the guy who tastes like green.” Newt smirks. “You think you know me?”

“You are impossible not to know.” Hermann says, lifting his chin.

They lock eyes. Newt searches for some confirmation of something in Hermann’s gaze. There’s a hint, close, just behind his eyes, but it’s just out of reach. Despite his better judgement, Newt slips his hand out from under Hermann’s shirt, lifts it, hesitates momentarily, but proceeds to card it gently through Hermann’s hair, smoothing out the odd ends. From front to back, then around to rest on Hermann’s cheek. Hermann looks at him, wide-eyed.

“Newton,” he says softly.

Newt swallows. “Yeah?”

The faceless drone of the party on the other room extends the silence. They look at one another for a minute. And it strikes Newt that it’s longest either of them has gone in each other’s company without a word.

But as “Monster Mash” comes on the speakers, the mess hall erupts into cheers. The incongruity of it all breaks whatever was there, between them in the hallway. Hermann swallows. “I’ll be returning to my quarters, now,” he says, voice just above a whisper. Newt steps back, giving Hermann the space to collect his cane and step out. He gives Newt one last look, opens his mouth to speak, but closes it. He walks away without another word.