#but also i absolutely adore all of the prompts but this is already humongous so imagine if i actually wrote all of them on this one post

[paigemathews]

ooh I would like to contribute to the pairing ask

And I'm going to give you a bunch to choose from because I can't decide and also that way you get to do the ones that you find the most fun without trying to do the ones you don't have ideas for (pick whichever you like and feel no pressure to do them all):

wyatt and the manticore baby (this can be gen or romantic, whichever you prefer)

chris and bianca in the past

piper with her niece/nephew (gen, dealers choice for which child)

patty and paige (gen)

victor and henry sr bonding as mortals in a magical family

elise with one of the charmed ones offspring as honorary aunt

more of the baby morrises all grown up however you would prefer

piper re-meeting bianca in the future (gen)

phoebe and andy (gen), preferably with time travel involved, bc we get told andy cares a lot about all the sisters and vice versa but we don't really get to see that as much with phoebe

a charmed one with their ex bf in an unexpected situation (gen, again dealers choice of who)

time travelling wyatt and chris (gen)

and prue and paige (gen) either in a world where its a different sister that dies or after they've both died and they're looking at the mess and drama of future generations and Judging

I went ahead and added this to the initial post bc I did not originally, but I think that one pairing per an ask will probably be easier bc if I do all of these, it will end up being so long that someone will murder me for ending up on their dash. That said, I am begging you on my knees to resubmit the others because I want to do literally all of them please please please

Pairing: Wyatt Halliwell ? Sebastian Johnston (half-manticore baby)

-----

Trudging through the empty cavern, Wyatt kept glancing over to Sebastian uncertainly. His expression was uncharacteristically steely, normal jovial mood absent. Prior to their run-in with the demon, Wyatt had been the same way, intent on finding his siblings and cousins. He still was focused on finding them, but felt his attention split as they walked between worry for them and replaying the demon's words.

"Poor demon," she cooed, dodging the potion Wyatt threw. Darting into Sebastian's face, she smiled maliciously as she said, "Blonde of hair, fair of face, never will-"

She slammed into the wall as Wyatt snarled wordlessly, trying to get to Sebastian's side as the half-manticore shook off the daze that her spell had left them with. Sebastian opened his mouth, eyes narrowed, but the demon beat them to it.

Throwing her head back to let her hair fall back, she grinned as she threw out both hands. Half a second too late, Wyatt was caught in the blast as she telekinetically threw everything in her past. He lost sight of Sebastian as the demon's workstation flipped and-

Oh, wow, the Underworld really had tall caverns actually. Wheezing for breath for a minute, Wyatt heard the demon start her little rhyme over again absently as he tried to convince his lungs to take in a breath. That was good, because she wouldn't recite her weird... prophecy? spell? whatever over a corpse. Probably. You never could tell with demons.

Also there was no way that Sebastian, who came right behind Chris and Penny as the most likely Warren kid to fight demons by themselves - despite not even being, y'know, a Warren - was killed by one telekinetic blast. Chris did worse, and didn't that thought send a pang of worry about his younger brother through his chest.

Or, actually, that might be that one of the potions on the demon's workspace was apparently acidic in nature, and Wyatt's hand was burning a little now. Fuck.

Bracing himself, Wyatt sucked in a breath and pushed the table back and sat up. The demon was on top of Sebastian, one hand cupping his face as she finished her rhyme, "-of the Charmed One's embrace. Unrequited love is such a pain, little demon, let me spare you of it."

"Get away from hIM," Wyatt roared, throwing hands out, magic distorting his voice in the last minute. At his shout, both Sebastian and the demon's heads snapped over to look at him. Sebastian's eyes went wide, and he bucked his hips enough to startle the demon. Just as the energy blast was about to engulf them, Sebastian shimmered away, unfortunately taking the demon with him. The blast slammed into the wall, destroying the entire shelf of potions lining it.

Wyatt felt more than heard Sebastian reappear, spinning on his heel just as Sebastian came into view. Sending the demon sprawling onto the ground, Sebastian rolled to one side, scrambling onto his feet as the demon rose with a screech.

"Wyatt!" Sebastian pointed at the remains of the demon's knife collection scattered on the ground opposite of them, and Wyatt didn't hesitate. As the demon raised her arms, Wyatt threw out his arm and the demon's destroyed armory went flying at her.

"Well, that seems like karma," Sebastian commented, breathless, as the two watched the demon burst into flames. Seeing as the entire debacle started when the demon sent her own armory at them, Wyatt couldn't help but agree.

Blonde of hair. Fair of face. Something about a Charmed One. Unrequited love. Years of looks between family members and gently teasing comments that Wyatt never quite got.

Sebastian had been one of Wyatt's best friends since he was a baby. Whenever Sebastian spent time with someone, they were almost always guaranteed a fun time that they needed. Beyond just genuine joy, Sebastian would always have his friends' backs. He was Chris and Penny's most consistent backup in a demon fight. He was the person that Melinda would call when she wanted a friend to party with or play video games against. He was the person that would go after Parker when she got a too desperate need to prove herself as a witch. Even if they hadn't been friends themselves, Sebastian's love and care for Wyatt's family would have more then earned Wyatt's love. Despite his heritage, Sebastian was a compassionate person who loved deeply, and he was one of Wyatt's best friends.

But as the pit continued forming in his stomach, Wyatt knew that he didn't love him as more than a friend.

There was no guarantee that the demon had been telling the truth. But Sebastian's expression had been painfully exposed.

Demons were cruel, and it would be so characteristic of a demon to throw that in Sebastian's face right in front of the person he loved.

The thought kept taunting Wyatt, and he knew he needed to resolve it somehow. They were still tracking his siblings and cousins, and whoever managed to subdue multiple Warrens was sure to be dangerous. Being distracted was dangerous, but Wyatt couldn't bring it up to Sebastian and risk hurting him right-

"Dude," Sebastian said, and Wyatt stopped his anxious tirade of thoughts as Sebastian snapped in front of his face.

Blinking, Wyatt looked between the fingers in front of his eyes to Sebastian's face. He was still tired, still worried, but there was a familiar look of bemusement in his eyes as he looked at Wyatt. One hand was on his bicep, a light grip keeping him still, as he dropped his other hand.

"You back with me?" Sebastian asked.

Wyatt nodded mutely.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You spaced out for like. Five whole minutes. None of those demon's potions did anything to you, right?"

Wyatt shook his head. Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, but Wyatt blurted out, "Blonde of hair, fair of face."

Sebastian's mouth snapped shut, as his gaze became unreadable. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence as Wyatt struggled to find words, Sebastian tilted his head and asked, "And? Is there a problem with that?"

His voice was guarded, but not hostile. Wyatt nearly tripped over his words as he frantically shook his head. "No! Just I don't know if-"

Sebastian's shoulders dropped an inch as his eyes softened. "Wyatt, I'm an adult. I don't need-"

"I'm sorry," Wyatt interrupted, guilt heavy in his stomach. He knew, logically at least, that he wasn't obligated to return feelings, but Wyatt never enjoyed hurting people, and to hurt one of his best friends was excruciating. "If I could, I would."

Wyatt winced at his words, because it wasn't as if Sebastian was unlovable, just that Wyatt didn't-

"No," Sebastian nearly snarled. Wyatt started, and Sebastian nearly looked as startled as Wyatt did. Still, he continued, "I don't need more than friendship, Wyatt. That's enough for me. As long as-"

You're happy, Wyatt mentally finished. Or you find someone. Some kind response that highlighted why Sebastian was great and why Wyatt felt awful.

"-she's happy and safe, I'll be okay."

Wait, what?

"But we need to get going to find them, because the longer we wait-" Sebastian was still talking as he turned to continue, but Wyatt was still stuck on the "she" part.

Had the demon actually... specified Wyatt? Thinking back, there was no actual guarantee that it had been Wyatt the demon was talking about. Blonde of hair, fair of face, and something about a Charmed One? Yes, that was Wyatt. It was also Melinda and Peyton. And sometimes Penny, but seeing as she was a lesbian and Sebastian knew that, Wyatt thought it safe to assume that Sebastian would have had plenty of time to get over it if it had been Penny.

Oh, boy.

Face burning, Wyatt interrupted, "She?"

Sebastian turned back around, voice fading as he took in whatever expression Wyatt had. They were both silent for a minute before Sebastian's lips quirked up. He couldn't control the grin as he asked, laughter in his voice, "Wyatt, did you think-"

"Blonde of hair, fair of face!" Wyatt protested immediately, feeling just a little stupid.

Sebastian outright began laughing as he finished, "Never will feel the daughter of a Charmed One embrace. Unless you have something to tell me, which I completely support-"

Wyatt pushed past Sebastian as he kept laughing, face burning but heart lighter than it was.

As he continued on his path, Wyatt heard Sebastian fall in step just behind him, still laughing. They still had demons to vanquish and family to save, but at least he wasn't responsible for breaking one of his best friend's heart.

Wait. Did that mean Sebastian liked his sister?

[elialys]

Tentoo x Rose - Falling Leaves of Red and Gold

This is my contribution to the Tentoo Party of Love and Acceptance and Deep Denial of That One Short Story I Shall Not Mention. I’m also tagging @doctorroseprompts, as this definitely fulfils the fall/autumn prompt.

Featuring the Doctor and Rose babysitting Tony for the weekend, and being disgustingly cute and soft as they do so because this is Tentoo and Rose we’re talking about.

[Read it on AO3]

Falling Leaves of Red and Gold

They are barely through the front door that Tony is jumping onto the Doctor, clinging to one of his legs with his head thrown all the way back, looking up at him through many centimetres of height difference.

“Pleaaaase can we do climb up?”

The Doctor doesn’t even hesitate, already halfway done with taking off his peacoat when he says: “Up you go, then!”

He throws his coat on the ground, before taking position, which involves spreading his legs, lowering himself in a half-crouch, his arms bent and extended outward, his every muscles locked to make his body as stiff and sturdy as possible.

Overall, a rather awkward position.

‘Climb Up’ is not a favourite game amongst grownups. It involves a small child challenging himself or herself to ‘climb’ over the adult’s body as if it were a tree. Understandably enough, most people tend to be rather reluctant to engage in it, as it is all kind of uncomfortable and painful, the over-enthusiastic toddler’s elbows, knees and feet regularly poking into sensitive areas and leaving bruises in their wake.

The Doctor loves it – and Tony adores him for it.

“Who knew I would make such a good tree?” he’d once asked Rose, beaming at her, absolutely delighted with having a three-and-a-half-year old hanging upside down from one of his outstretched arms, an angry red mark already flaring on his cheekbone where Tony’s foot had made contact not-so-gently a couple minutes ago.

Tony doesn’t make it as far today, still trying to ascend the Doctor’s leg when a shrill gasp of disapproval rings through the air.

“Where the hell d’you think you are?!”

The Doctor’s smile immediately freezes at the sound of Jackie’s shout, while Tony slowly slides back down, having caught Rose’s eyes and seen the small shake of her head, wordlessly advising him to stop what he was doing to avoid getting caught up in their mother’s wrath.

“Uhm,” the Doctor says, carefully straightening himself up, glancing at his mother-in-law with obvious caution. “The Tylers’ mansion? Planet Earth? The Solar system?”

Rose cannot help but cringe at this poor, poor choice of reply. All these months spent around Jackie Tyler on a fairly regular basis, not to mention their many encounters back in the other universe, and the Doctor has yet to learn to keep his mouth shut around her.

Jackie’s scowl turns into a sweet smile – not a good sign, and he knows it, too, judging by the way he swallows hard – before she looks down at her son. “Why don’t you go find Daddy, sweetheart. Go tell him if he’s not off the phone and ready in the next ten minutes, Mummy’s leaving without him and probably not coming back.”

“Ok!” Tony exclaims, already dashing out of the entrance hall towards Pete’s office.

Jackie slowly extends a hand, then, pointing at the crumpled coat on the floor, her stony stare on the Doctor. “Pick it up.”

The Doctor opens his mouth, until Jackie narrows her eyes, at which point he wisely decides to close it again, bending down to pick up his coat.

Jackie is walking to him, now, head tilted back to look up at him just as her son did earlier, and yet, the Doctor is the one shrinking into himself.

“Now I’ve only agreed to this because Rose’s here, too,” Jackie tells him with an unmistakable warning note in her voice, even though she’s yet to look at her daughter. “But I want you to listen. Are you listening?”

“I am listening.”

“No. Dodgy. Experiment. You’ve got that?”

Sharp nod.

 “Then say it.”

“I – ”

“Nope, not asking for your input, here, just simple parroting. Repeat after me: no dodgy experiment.”

“No dodgy experiment.”

Jackie’s finger actually pokes him sharply in the chest. “No fire either, Doctor, I mean it.”

“Now that was a genuine acci – ”

“Still not asking for your opinion, Lanky Boy,” Jackie efficiently shuts him up. “A day and a half, that’s all. He’s my only son, and I love him quite a lot. Anything suspicious, and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to give me grandchildren, are we clear?”

“Crystal,” the Doctor chirps. “Lucent. Pellucid. Limpid. Diaphan –  ”

“Oh shut it,” Jackie says with a dismissive wave of her hand, finally turning to Rose. “Now come, I’ve got everything ready for your meals.”

“We could’ve cooked,” Rose says, a bit offended.

Jackie snorts in answer, already walking towards the kitchen, clearly expecting them to follow. They do, the Doctor giving Rose a pointed look that clearly means ‘She’s your mother.’

The ordeal doesn’t last for much longer. Jackie does show them everything she prepared for them for this short weekend, going over Tony’s daily routine as well, Rose choosing to remain quiet instead of reminding her mother she’s done this before, even if it’d been pre-Doctor.

After the unavoidable chaos that comes with parents leaving their toddler behind, Jackie and Pete are off for their anniversary trip to Italy, while Rose and the Doctor remain with Tony – who is sniffling a little as he clings to Rose’s neck.

“Hey, you know what Dad told me?” she asks him, going for Distraction #1 – she has four more up her sleeve if this one fails. When she has her brother’s attention, she wiggles her eyebrows (a move she’s definitely picked up from someone). “He told me the gardeners came this morning, and they made a pile.”

Tony gasps in wonder. “A pile?” he repeats in the same conspiratorial tone.

Rose nods with a broadening grin, while behind them, the Doctor repeats it, too, a lot more confused: “A pile?”

She glances back at him with a cryptic smile. “Put that coat back on. You’re gonna love this.”

A few minutes later, all bundled up to face the late October chilly air, they exit the house, entering the back garden – which, realistically, is bigger than most inner city parks Rose has ever been in.

The Pile, although quite a distance away, is impossible to miss.

“That is humongous,” the Doctor states as he takes it in, finally understanding what they’d been talking about.

The three of them begin walking toward the impressive pile of dead leaves, Tony in the middle, holding one of their hands each.

“What’s a human Gus?” Tony asks candidly, which causes Rose to laugh wholeheartedly.

“Humongous, sweetie,” she corrects him. “It means really big.”

“It’s sounds weird,” he notes with a giggle, although he seems delighted to have acquired this new knowledge, already tugging at both their hands, silently requesting to be swung. “Tell me another?”

“Uhm, let’s see,” Rose ponders. “Gigantic.”

“Colossal,” the Doctor offers, while between them, Tony is happily being swayed off the ground.

“Enormous.”

“Gargantuan.”

They’re running out of synonyms for big when they find themselves standing in front of The Pile – which really isn’t a pile at all.

It’s a tower.

“Throw me!” Tony shouts, so excited he’s almost vibrating.

The two adults look at each other.

“It’s a really big pile,” the Doctor notes. “Properly massive.” He observes the tower of crunchy leaves, his nose scrunched up. “What if he disappears, in there? How would we explain that to your mother?”

Rose gives a shrug of her shoulder. “Worst case scenario, we’ve got thirty six hours to dig him out.”

“Throw meeeeeeeeee,” Tony begs, pulling hard on their hands.

The Doctor is still scowling at the imposing pile. “I can’t say I see the appeal of being thrown into a pile of decaying organic matter. Are you sure you don’t want us to go to the swing set instead?”

Tony is now letting out a long, high pitched whine Rose is fairly certain has been invented by toddlers just to drive adults crazy.

“All right, then, allons-y!” the Doctor exclaims, bending down to pick Tony up.

He doesn’t make to throw him at all, though, securely holding the child in his arms instead, turning towards Rose, who frowns at him.

“Your mother scares me too much, I’ll have to go into the unknown with him,” he announces, dramatically. “If I don’t make it back, remember that I love you, always. I won’t tell you not to come after us, either, Rose Tyler. I know better.”

After a wink and a tilt of his head, followed by his trademark grin, he pounces off the ground and nothing short of crashes into the giant pile of leaves, he and her brother disappearing completely for a few seconds.

The pile is so imposing that it doesn’t completely collapse from the sudden disturbance…until the Doctor stands back up, buried all the way up to his shoulders in leaves, holding out a toddler currently shrieking with delighted laughter.  “Found this squirmy creature at the bottom of the pile, wouldn’t happen to be yours, by any chance?”

“I’ve been told we share some genes,” Rose admits.

“Again! Do it again!” Tony is requesting, now in his sister’s arms, who doesn’t hesitate much before diving into the pile, too.

They spend a slightly ridiculous amount of time playing in that pile of leaves, long after it’s stopped being big enough for the adults present to dive into it. The Doctor is as efficient as ever when it comes to gathering it all back together for Tony, though, admitting that he’d underestimated the ‘entertainment value’ of this activity.

(Especially after Tony ordered them both to stay there on the ground while he bravely threw tiny handfuls of leaves all over them as he tried covering them up – which obviously led to quite a bit of snogging as decaying organic matter rained over them)

When Tony’s teeth begin to chatter from cold while his lips turn blue, Rose declares their outing over, in spite of the two children’s loud protests.

She makes them hot cocoa, which instantly puts her back in their good grace, especially when she adds tiny marshmallows to it.

Tony makes the mistake of asking what marshmallows are made of, which causes the Doctor to delve into a rapid lecture about the molecular makeup of this particular food – which really cannot be called food, he stresses that repeatedly, given the minimal nutritional value it provides.

He does stop his gabbling, eventually, once he realises Rose has stopped her washing up to stare at him instead, Tony’s eyes properly glazed over as well.

“Can we make some?” Tony asks, then, unfazed.

“Absolutely,” the Doctor answers just as Rose says: “Absolutely not.”

She shuts off the tap, turning fully to lean against the sink. “Which part of ‘no dodgy experiment’ did you not understand?”

He scowls at her. “All we need is water, gelatin and sugar, I wouldn’t call it a dodgy experiment. A wild foray into the oddity that is human nutrition, maybe. ”

“Might be so, but you forget the bit where everything becomes dodgy when you’re in charge of it.”

“I feel slightly insulted.” He sounds and looks it, too.

(She doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s got more chocolate around his mouth than Tony does)

“Alright, I’ll make it up to you,” she says with a sly smile. “Wanna hear why we’re like hot chocolate and marshmallows?”

He squints at her. “Is this a trick question?”

She shakes her head, before answering all-too-casually: “’cause you’re hot and I’m on top.”

The Doctor actually manages to choke on his own saliva.

“I don’t get it,” Tony announces.

“t’s just a silly grownup joke,” Rose tells him, pushing herself off the sink to go ruffle his hair, before going around the table to do the same to her husband, whose face has become rather red.

She presses a kiss to his temple for good measures, letting her breath wander over the back of his neck before straightening up and going back to her dishes, acutely aware of his gaze on her.

They do not make marshmallows, in the end, nor do they get into anything dodgy. Tony spends a nice amount of time quietly drawing some pictures while Rose and the Doctor argue over how to get the fireplace going – once Rose convinces him that her mother’s warnings about him and fire did not include the making of an actual fire in a real fireplace.

He does manage to get it going eventually, although by then, they’ve already had dinner and Rose had time to give Tony his bath. The siblings come back down to find a lovely, roaring fire burning in the hearth, the Doctor looking simultaneously proud and a tad sheepish.

She chooses not to ask.

While the two boys snuggle up on the couch, the Doctor having just agreed to read Tony his bedtime story in front of the fire, Rose tidies up the table where Tony had been drawing earlier today. Now like any other three-and-a-half-year old, her brother’s drawing skills are not what you would call exceptional, but she’s always managed to decipher them fairly well.

She finds herself frowning at a drawing of six stick figures, all standing near what she assumes is this house. Two pairs of tall stick figures, a much smaller stick figure added between each pair.

“Who’s this a picture of, sweetie?” she asks her brother, interrupting the Doctor’s reading. They both look up from the book to look at the paper Rose is holding up.

“’t’s me and Ma and Daddy and you and the Doctor and the baby.”

There is a significant pause.

“The…baby?” the Doctor asks with a frown, giving Rose a look, obviously wondering if she knows something he doesn’t, to which she answers with a definite, categorical shake of her head.

“Your baby,” Tony does confirm a moment later, blissfully ignorant of the sudden shift in the room.

“We don’t have a baby,” Rose reminds him.

“I know that,” Tony says, rolling his eyes exactly the way Jackie would, his tone quite reminiscent of her as well. “But Ma’s always saying you and the Doctor are gonna be having babies ‘before we know it’.”

“Oh, is she now,” the Doctor says, a smile in his voice, as well as in his eyes. “What else does she say about us?”

But Tony is shrugging, already disinterested in the topic, clearly a bit drowsy, too. “Keep reading please?” he asks the Doctor in a small voice, looking up at him from where he’s snuggled up against his side.

After another pause, the Doctor nods, clearing his throat a little before resuming his reading. Rose joins them, half-sitting, half-lying on the other side of the couch. Tony is asleep before the Doctor finishes the book; he caries on reading anyway, and his low voice feels as warm to her as the thermal waves coming from the fireplace.

When he’s done, none of them speaks for a while, Rose watching the Doctor, while the Doctor watches the small human asleep against his side.

“Maybe we should make one of those,” he says at last, his voice still low and quiet.

Rose startles a little out of her reverie, not sure she’s heard him right.

“What?”

“Babies,” he says. “Mini version of people. More specifically, mini version of people I hope would inherit most of your genes, although again, I have had worse ears.”

He’s quoted something he once said to her, word for word.

She’s just as dumbfounded as she was on that night, all those months ago.

Rose stares at him, and he stares back. “Is this…us, having The Talk, then?”

He shrugs faintly, mindful of the sleeping child against him. “Even your three-year-old brother is thinking about it. If he’s thinking about it when he’s not even fully cognitive, yet, I think it means we should, too.”

Despite herself, her heart is speeding up in her chest. “Alright,” she says quietly. “Let’s do The Talk.”

Of course, no one actually talks for at least a minute after that.

“I’ll start,” the Doctor offers. “I think…” he begins, before stopping himself. “No. I know I’d like to have children with you, if I can, and…if you want. Obviously.”

Rose finds herself nibbling on the nail of her thumb, feeling her eyes prickling.

“I didn’t think you would,” she admits, her voice not much louder than a whisper.

He frowns. “Why?”

She shrugs, looking away, staring into the fire. “Dunno. Too…domestic. Too complicated. Too…human, maybe.”

Another pause.

“I’ve been a father before.”

She looks back at him, but he’s the one not meeting her eyes, now. “When?”

He breathes in slowly, his next exhale a bit wobbly. “A long time ago. A long, long time ago. It wasn’t…” He clears his throat. “Time Lords didn’t do parenthood the way humans do, from procreation to gestation to, you know, the actual raising of your offspring. Like most of everything in our species, the overall process was quite…impersonal.”

He shakes his head a little, and the distant look in his eyes disappear as he looks back at her. “It’s nothing like how it would be, to do it all with you. Watching you grow a new human. Welcoming him or her into our world. Getting to teach them. Showing them how beautiful this universe can be. Loving them, day after day. Fifty percent Rose Tyler, fifty percent me…” He shakes his head a little. “The thought of it is…overwhelming, to tell you the truth.”

Having him so far from her is suddenly unbearable.

“Come here,” she tells him quietly, having straightened up to sit up better, patting the empty space between them.

“I’m a bit trapped,” he says, indicating Tony with a tilt of his head. “I believe we have a child between us, which is rather ironic, come to think of it, considering the fact that – ”

“Let’s just move then, so I can snuggle up, too” she interrupts him softly, the way she often does, already standing up. “He won’t wake up, trust me. He can sleep through anything.”

When the Doctor looks at her dubiously, she claps her hands a couple times, quite loudly, too. Tony doesn’t even flinch.

Successfully convinced, the Doctor gathers up Tony against him more securely, before moving sideways, just enough to make room on his other side, so that Rose can fill up that void.

She does, quite happily, too, almost sighing at the smell and feel of him, his arm tight around her, their faces only inches apart. She rests her fingertips lightly upon his chin, her nails barely scratching his stubble.

“’m sorry,” she whispers. When he frowns, she adds: “I know you said it was all different and everything, but…they were still your children.”

He doesn’t say anything for another long moment, his lips grazing her forehead.

“It was a long time ago,” he eventually repeats. “This is more…in the now.”

She appreciates that he’s not pushing her, despite the fact that she’s yet to make her opinion clear.

“I didn’t think I’d ever want children,” she tells him quietly, and he moves slightly to look at her. “I grew up with a single mother,” she adds with a sad smile and a shrug. “Mum tried her best not to make me feel like I was a burden, but I could tell it was hard just…having me, you know? Even my friends who had both their parents, most of them ended up getting divorced before we were teenagers anyway. It just felt all so…complicated and…restricting.”

He doesn’t say anything, but she sees that light already dimming in his eyes. Before it completely disappears, she properly cups his face in her palm, looking at him straight on when she says: “Having children with you, though? That wouldn’t be so bad.”

He swallows hard again. “Yeah?”

She nods a little. “Yes.”

And then, aware that he deserves honesty from her, the way he always tries being honest with her, even when it hurts, she decides to fully open up to him.

“You make me feel like I can have it all,” she admits softly. “The adventuring and the full human experience. It’s a bit terrifying, actually, how safe you make me feel, which makes no sense, I know but…t’s the truth. I’m not delusional either. I know once we do have that baby, it’ll change everything, and we’ll be a mess, and we won’t get to do all the things we get to do now. But…we’ll still be together. Together with a small human that’ll be fifty percent you, and fifty percent me.”

‘Overwhelming’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

When the Doctor kisses her, he does it slowly, almost reverently, as if they were sealing another kind of vow.

Until he pulls away, looking at her with definite alarm. “Not now, though, right?”

“Oh god, no,” she reassures him, and they both sigh in relief. “Let’s just worry about keeping Tony alive this weekend, yeah?”

“Good plan,” he nods emphatically, the two of them shifting to look at the toddler, still sound asleep on the other side of the Doctor.

“Let’s put him to bed,” she whispers in his ear, before lightly nibbling at it. “I’d very much like to try playing Climb Up with my husband.”

The Doctor lets out a sound that is between a laughter and a groan. “Rose Tyler, that is filthy,” he protests in a loud whisper, still managing to sound high pitched. “I’ll never be able to play that game with him again, now.”

Oh, she knows.

~ FIN ~

[Consider sending me a message?] [Or leaving a kudos/comment on AO3?]

[i’m not picky just desperate for love, a like/reblog would make me quite happy too]

[venusparker]

loyal surroundings ↬ p.p

prompt: with nosy friends and aunts sticking their nose into your business, it’s about time your best friend peter parker saved you––but in a different type of suit.

warnings: maybe foul language?? i don’t remember

notes: i know thanksgiving just passed, but i’ve been thinking about this, and also it could apply for christmas as well. p.s this is super long. hope u all enjoy xo.

•••

Of all things, Peter Parker was loyal. That was for certain. Every detail that defined him, every characteristic that covered him from head to the worn out soles of his sneakers, screamed it. There was no way a boy such as him, with a heart that could’ve quite believably been literally made of gold and selflessness, who had gentle, hazel eyes and a warm smile, could betray you. The light freckles that danced on his nose and cheeks swore their friendship to you in a way his mouth never could when he felt too nervous to say it.

He’d tell you anything and you’d do the same. Though it had taken him some time to tell you the biggest secret of them all, he eventually told you and that was all that mattered. With the same sigh of relief and the promise of no more lies. This was your Peter. He would do anything for you.

Or, at least that’s what you told him as he sauntered and paced about his room, chewing on his bottom lip, making it more pink than usual. You had done possibly everything in your power to convince him to do you this one, humongous, important favor that you swore by the Son of Odin, that you’d pay him back for. He’d done everything for you—even saved you from an armed robbery, but you don’t talk about that—yet not this one solid and simple service.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” The words left your mouth flustered and desperate, and stressed. “Please.”

He shook his head and shrugged, putting away the remaining homework he had finished after your school had let you out for annual Thanksgiving break. You had spent the past twenty minutes begging for Peter to do what you asked because after all, what were best friends for? Usually, Peter would’ve dropped everything to help you out, which was a quality he had that you were grateful for; his forever chivalrous manner causing him to come when you called. And yet, no budge.

“No, [Y/N], I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” He gave you an incredulous look as he repeated what you had asked of him and you bit your lip, staring at his hardwood floor, unable to see the blush growing on your best friend’s face. “Why don’t you ask Ned? He’s adorable.”

“I did ask Ned! But he’s going back to Hawaii to see some extended family this year, so I came to you, my gorgeous and lovely first best friend who I assumed would help me out before Ned Leeds, who has bailed on me twice and counting, did.” A sharp expression spread over your features and Peter sighed.

“I thought you didn’t even like Thanksgiving, you always say it’s a glorified holiday celebrating Native American genocide and colonization.”

“Exactly, it is. And right now, I don’t need racist aunts or ignorant uncles adding onto this terrible holiday, all I need is my best friend at my side,” You cooed sweetly as he sat down next to you on the bed, and you threw an arm around him hoping he’d give in.

Peter eyed you carefully, his brain rapidly trying to come up with excuses that you hadn’t already shot down. You had already gone through the steps of asking Aunt May if she would like to come over for Thanksgiving this year so that her and Peter wouldn’t have to spend it alone and she gladly accepted—so that was out of the question. The past following weeks had been, well, calm for the most part, if you could even describe Queens as that.

He listened to the traffic, which he did often since now his sense really gave him no real choice, and chimed into a lady’s conversation from the building over, hoping to stall. He knew that you understood what he was doing. But he had to think about this carefully. Him. Being your boyfriend? Even as pretend, it made the teenager feel nervous and clammy, and he curled up his sweater sleeves around his palms to soak it all up.

“I–I have, you know––” He began sheepishly, only for you—clever, cunning, pretty you—to cut him off with a logical, debunking answer prepared.

“Heroes deserve a holiday off too.”

“Real heroes don’t take them,” He shot back and you rolled your eyes falling onto your back on his bed, staring up at him, curls of brown falling in his face.

“Come on, Peter. One night. One night where you’re not out there risking your life for this city, one night where it’s just you and me and some badly seasoned turkey. Come on.”

Peter always knew that you could be convincing, but this was a different level. “But, like, won’t it be weird?”

Your phone rang the minute he said that, but you ignored it. ”Promise it won’t be. It’s a one time thing, Peter. This year my extended family is coming over to our house and one of my great-aunts who hasn’t seen me in forever is relentless. Just pretend and then next year around I’ll say we broke up.”

Peter didn’t know why he couldn’t just say no to you. He’s refused and denied more important things before, but he could feel himself giving in. Truthfully, he couldn’t see this ending well. He simply did not see this entire plan that you took the liberty of conjuring up as a good idea. It was something out of a book Aunt May would read with a glass of red wine when she was feeling upset, not Peter’s life. He already had enough going on with not blabbing about being Spider-Man and crime in New York, or teaming up with the Avengers. Now, he had to worry about this? Oh, boy.

“Pete, my mom is calling and I have to leave and I will continue texting you about this if you don’t answer me now.” You smiled at him, grin huge, fluttering your eyelashes and giving him the best doe-eyed look you could ever give. He found it incredibly cute and his heart may have leaped out of his chest, but that was not the task at hand right now.

“[Y/N]...I—Maybe,” he mumbled, glancing away from you to pick at loose thread of his blanket.

“Sorry, what was that?” You mocked, before chuckling, “I’m just kidding. Thank you so much, Peter! I love you, you won’t regret this.”

You went up to leave, throwing a look and a wave to Peter before you eventually did. ”Just promise you won’t fall in love with me, Spidey. See you in a couple days.”

Peter watched as you walked away, a sigh escaping his mouth from feelings not even he could detect. Upon the traffic, his rapidly beating heart, and hustle and bustle of the city life that remained outside his window—the only thing he could focus on was himself, whispering, “Can’t make any promises.”

•••

As Thanksgiving rolled around, you found yourself in your own house, drinking some soda as you attempted to gracefully dodge questions at you and your lovelife, or what college you planned on going to even though you were only a sophomore because, as your least favorite uncle says, it’s never too early to start planning that degree in nursing, even though you’ve never been interested in nursing.

Among the throngs of people, you couldn’t find the one familiar place that felt like home and you couldn’t fight the frown placing itself onto your face. Peter. Aunt May had arrived early with a pie, store-bought of course since she didn’t want to risk burning one herself, but it was still delicious with ice cream on top, nonetheless. And by her side was no one, and as May puts it, it was due to the fact that Peter had “gotten caught up with things.” You knew what she meant by things, and, though she or Peter had never said anything that caused you to suspect May’s knowledge—you knew that she understood what things meant as well. Perhaps it was the look of pity mixed with disappointment that gave it away.

To be completely fair, you didn’t really and absolutely need Peter Parker to live through this holiday, seeing as you could usually bare with it when you traveled every year before. However, it would’ve been nice to not feel so threatened in your own ground by nosy aunts and your mother’s subtly condescending friends, and him practically hanging out with you and helping you avoid and surprisingly answer questions would’ve eased you up. Especially since your great aunt was hounding you with every heteronormative question possible, making you wish you could’ve choked on the ice cube in your drink that had been long melted away.

“So, you’re grown now! And so attractive. Anyone nab you off the market?”

Nab? You wanted to grunt, but you didn’t want to be rude considering she was family and she had been nice so far. It wasn’t like you wanted to be mean and standoffish, which you really weren’t, but a night of dealing with drunk family members and homophobic remarks and Trump supporters had really wore you down. Grabbing onto your sweatshirt as a way of comforting and reminding yourself that this night was close to over, you realized that it, funnily enough, belonged to Peter. Opening your mouth to answer, you were instead given a greeting.

“Hi, sorry I’m late. I had some, uh, trouble.”

Peter had bruises that looked fresh by his jaw that were already starting to heal slightly but slowly, and he wore a dress shirt and some jeans and sneakers. Though you could tell he had Spider-Man business to take care of, he had combed his hair and gotten dressed, and that made you smile. In all honesty, he looked great, and you had to force yourself to stop calling him cute in your head.

“It’s no problem, you’re just in time. Trust me.”

With that, you grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze and he immediately caught the message. He cleared his throat one too many times and you had to cover up your laughing with a cough. You knew him. He had rehearsed this. He had practiced what he was going to say in reply to any questions he got. What a dork!

“I’m Peter, [Y/N]’s...um, best frie––boyfriend! Boyfriend. Nice to meet you,” He managed to get out, blushing like mad, pink dotting across his cheeks like spilled over paint.

He tried to push some of his awkwardness away, imagining himself to be the smooth and social butterfly he often hoped to appear as, but eventually he would just look at you and it was all go to ruins. It’s not like him pretending around you was any different, or something he wasn’t used to. The amount of times you’ve made him feel jittery and anxious was uncountable, but this night really pushed the limit through the roof.

His eyes flickered over to you and in response, your soft smile provided him with an unspoken hello, eyes lingering on your lips for a little too long.

The rest of the night seemed to flutter by with ease, and you managed to get away from your family as Peter gladly took all the questions they had of you and him and whatnot. You had sworn that you would make it up to him, constantly texting him to ask if he was alright, or if he wanted you to come in and save him instead. He had always replied that he was feeling fine and that he could handle a few rogue family members, but that wasn’t exactly what you were referring to.

You could tell Peter wasn’t this used to many people at Thanksgiving, or any holiday for that matter. The initial reaction he had when he first laid eyes upon you and everyone in your house had said it all, no matter how good Peter thinks he is at hiding things. You watched him silently when the rare moments came where you were apart for the night, you mainly by the kitchen as he stayed in the living room, your folks gathering around him like hungry wolves ready to tear him up with inquiry after inquiry, sometimes menial and others actually quite interesting. Aunt May, on the other hand, naturally gravitated towards you and her nephew when she had the chance, and you were glad to see she was having such a nice time too. You’re sure that after this they would be invited many more times, or maybe even vice-versa could take place if both were up to it. You often hated huge family get-togethers, but you couldn't imagine spending holidays alone and quiet.

“[Y/N]!” Aunt May had called out, but it barely sounded like calling out since everyone was so loud, air lively with buzzing chatter and the whistles from the football game on television. You grinned, placing down your plate of mashed potatoes and corn as she walked up to you, her glasses pushed up and long hair tied into a bun. “How’s the plan going?”

“Plan? What–what plan?”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. Peter spilled everything to me. It’s amazing what that boy can say when he’s nervous. I️ wasn’t sure he was really going to come since he already told me he had––well, I’m sure you already know what he had to do, but I guess those things that were aforementioned weren’t so important to him after all. Well...I guess not as important as you.”

“May, you’re making me blush–”

“With good reason. Don’t say I said anything. Peter will be furious with me. He says I embarrass him too much,” she winks before leaving you be, Peter strolling up to you, face beaming and happy. You weren’t stupid. You knew what Aunt May was trying to get at, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know your own feelings. You knew you liked your best friend Peter Parker, and you knew that you really did want him to be your boyfriend. Actually. Not pretend. But you’d rather not ruin the moment.

Or blow your cover.

“Quite a night, huh?” Peter heard you say as he took a seat next to you, finding some solace away from the excitement and laughter that he had been facing the entire night. Most of the night, anyway. His stares at you were becoming more and more obvious during the night before this moment and he told himself that he was simply playing the part really well. Sure, it was a little too well, but who cares? He had answered every question about you lovingly and honestly, and listened to stories of you from when you were a child that made you burn bright red in shame. His gaze always stayed on you though, and he was beginning to fear that you had noticed.

“This was fun.”

“Fun? Peter, did I hear you correctly, or is too much pumpkin pie causing me to hallucinate?”

“It was!”

Peter was being genuine, like he always was, always had been. You hated him for it. He truly was loyal if he found Thanksgiving with your family in any way amusing rather than miserable. The two of you laughed and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as the party began to slowly fade off and relatives began to leave, all remembering to make at least one remark of how perfect a couple you and Peter were before they went out the door.

The only guests who remained in your house were Peter and Aunt May, and three family friends whom took up most of the attention of your parents as you and Peter snuck up to your bedroom, exhausted and seeking privacy. The rest of the night previous had been spent with you two sitting in the empty dining room, eating randomly during conversations that took up hours of each’s time. As you two sat in your bedroom, Peter on the floor and you on the bed, the conversation of interest had been the events that had played out tonight.

“So, Spider-Boy, how was being my boyfriend for the night?”

“Easy.”

“Easy?”

“Wait–uh, that’s not what I meant.”

A silence overtook the both of you, resulting in you two staring at each other. You patted the spot next to you on the bed and, even though it took hesitation, Peter joined you, refusing to meet your eyes this time. This gave you a cue that maybe this was your chance, a chance to say something.

To start something.

“We’ve got to address the turkey in the room. Tell me what you meant, Peter.”

“I don’t...I don’t know.” Peter flipped over on his side out of habit of all the times where he was too tired to swing back to his house when yours was closer, so he’d discreetly sleep over in your bed after a night of playing hero before leaving quickly in the morning before school. “I guess it’s...easy, in a way, for me to be your boyfriend because...because–”

“Because what, Pete? Come on, I know you can say it.”

With each shaky breath, he slipped out a word. Breath that smelled like peppermint from your mom’s peppermint hot chocolate fanned against your lips. “Because I want to be your boyfriend.”

“You do? For real?”

“Yes, for real.”

You placed your hands underneath his jaw, wary of the bruise as you gingerly avoided it, and placed your mouth on his. Surprised was an understatement for Peter, as he froze at first, before kissing you back. It was quick, quicker than either for you wanted it to be, but still everything you expected. It was tense and not as magical as you thought it was going to be; he didn’t immediately kiss you back again, but longer, or do anything newsworthy, but that didn’t matter, because it was with him.

Your Peter.