#cough cough 900 word response

[foolsocracy]

Personally, I'm on the "Sam Prime has only one life" train because it makes far more sense why he's looking for ways to extend it mechanically if he only has the one than if he has three. A single life is a lot more volatile; one mistake could end it in a flash. Three gives you a little more leeway, so you can learn and live again. For someone to be so intricately entwined with death and escape from it, it feels symbolic to only have one life. (Plus Philza and Techno each only have one, and their relationships with death are Also incredibly entwined with that fact, so it just makes sense to me.)

REAL!! anon you're so real. let me speak on this

Only having one life is definitely much more of a motivator for Sam's clone shenanigans. And i also think it would be important to note that, from what I remember, most of Sam's raving about new bodies is about avoiding injury & outside forces that could kill you. I think he does mention bodies breaking down with age too, but I think it comes across as secondary when he talks about it. At least from what I can remember.

Only having one life also works well with the fact that he knew Phil from when Phil was much much younger (100s? 1000s? of years!). I'm pretty sure both Phil and Techno emphasize that them having one life has to do with where they are from, rather than who they are. Considering that Phil met Sam prior to Techno, and Phil and Techno being from the same place, its pretty likely that Sam is from there as well.

Another thing I'd like to mention is Sam Prime's reaction to waking up after being in a clone body for so long. It was a shocked, "I died." The way he says it isn't a way I'd expect someone who grew up aware that you can die and come back to life twice. And you may be thinking, maybe he's crazy delusional cause he's Sam and he's convinced himself that he can't die in a clone. And this is true. BUT! Boomer also has a very telling reaction. Its very much along the lines of you couldn't have died, you're right here! Now THIS is a sentence out of the mouth of someone who only has one shot at life.

now onto how Sam has died and behaved like a 3-heart character. Sam on the DSMP has no memory of being Sam Prime, and so he believes he's the same as any other person from the region, aka someone who has 3 lives. It could be fun to think that he might have incredibly repressed memories of his lives (or lack their of) when making sense of a comment he made back in the Trapped in Prison streams: he goes through Limbo to get back to his body in between deaths.

"but ryin! he was being metaphorical!" maybe! but what if he wasn't! makes you think. Perhaps if Sam's consciousness is in a clone body when that clone dies, he travels through some type of limbo where he can locate and return to his own original body, another clone, or even re-inhabit the same body that just died. DSMP Sam isn't even aware he has clones or an original body to get back to, so he just reanimates the old one.

Another comment on this Limbo --- Sam Bucket. It is widely agreed upon that Sam Bucket is another one of Sam's clones, and I believe the same. But there are a few things BBH has said about him that really stump me: 1) you can't touch him, 2) he can teleport, to an extent (as seen in the Sam Bucket finale). It's very... ghostly, no? Maybe the case with Sam Bucket was that when he died and was possessed by the Egg, he also lost that knowledge of how to successfully transfer back to another body. Or maybe it was because his conciseness wasn't only his anymore, that it couldn't fit back into his bodies right. So Sam Bucket could be an apparition of the consciousness that was in the Sam Bucket clone, and continues to haunt the Egg. The teleportation could be explained that way, as he doesn't need to adhere to the laws of physics; or maybe since he is so closely bonded with the Egg while being incorporeal, he's gained the Egg's ability to teleport.

Now for why he is suddenly back in his body after DSMP Sam's 2nd death. This one can go a lot of ways. Here're some ideas:

Going off of Sam Prime's shock of having died in a clone, perhaps Sam's Dream & Ponk deaths would be the first one's he'd ever experience. I also want to relate this to the 3-lives system as well, so maybe after 2 'deaths,' the more powerful 1-life Sam Prime had is reduced to an equivalent to a single 3-lives life. If that makes sense. With only one 'life' left, it is instinctively sent back to the original body to sustain it with what is left.

If we want to add the previously discussed Sam Bucket theory into this, here we go. It still makes sense that Sam Prime would not be aware that that body died, as his consciousness never returned to the original body to be added to the mix. Here, it would also help to think of the 1-life as split not into the one death, two deaths, sent back to body, like the previous scenario, but instead the clones can go through 3 'lives' before being forced back to Sam Prime.

Maybe the energy taken from the 1-life Sam Prime has isn't so easily split up into the 3-life system. It could be where energy is just drained over time, and the Ponk death was the straw that broke the camel's back. Its convenient, but possible. Also, it was the only death Sam had after he saw Sam Bucket. Maybe being exposed to his own consciousness triggered something in his head where it defaulted him back to Sam Prime? Who knows

Anyway, that was a lot of words to say Yeah, I like the 1-life Sam theory.

[arcanewhoosh]

A Room Full of People

900 words

Proofread? Y/N

Relevant Tags: Jinx x Reader, could be an au but vague enough to stay in the universe, holiday party, in the clurb we all fam, drinking

You take a break in the corner of the Last Drop as your friends party the night away on a Tuesday evening.

Note: I've been to so many holiday parties this past week so why not write about it.

Is drinking on a weekday a good idea?

A waiter bumps into you and mumbles an apology, one completely inaudible with the loud bass of the track currently playing. You’re thankful you invested in one of those expensive earplugs all those months ago. For one, the loud music of the bar isn’t aggressively assaulting your ears, its usual invasive sound lulled to a pleasant thrum.

You take a sip of your drink. Your friends deem it absolutely horrendous; who in their right mind would willingly sip on a Jager bomb all night? You like it though, after joking that you take comfort in it since it tastes like the cough syrup you liked when you were a kid—Caitlyn had looked at you in horror when you said this—and you liked the familiarity.

You take a step back to avoid another partygoer making a beeline for the bathroom. You notice your step isn’t as coordinated as you’d like, a familiar weightlessness starting to bloom in your head. You try to count how many shots of tequila you’ve had, plus the first two Jager bombs you had finished off earlier. You have a presentation tomorrow morning.

Maybe drinking on a weekday wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

The Last Drop was packed for a Tuesday, you blame it on the fact that it was the holidays, and people had probably finally had time off of work. The others were all paired up, dancing or talking amongst themselves in the crowd. You yourself were squeezed in with them just a few minutes ago, but your unfortunately minuscule social battery had given up an hour ago, so off to the side you went.

You loved going to the parties, you loved hanging out with your friends, getting absolutely sloshed; having the worst hangover the next day, then rinse and repeat. But most of all, you loved being invited; a small reminder that there were people that cared about you. People that cared enough to want you around them while they made terrible decisions.

You were the introverted one in the group. When you were younger you were quiet, kept to yourself, and avoided events where you would have to talk to people you didn’t know. But eventually, as you grew older, you thought there wouldn’t be much harm in going out with friends and hanging out late into the night and early morning. Humans are social creatures, after all.

You look down at your watch and frown. It was only nine, which means you're only going to progressively get drunker before you all decide to call it a night. Which means an unavoidable hangover in the morning. Definitely not a good idea.

Looking over at your friends, all happily dancing and jumping to the music, you take minute to drink the entire scene in. The thrum of the music, the bass reverberating in your chest, the kick of the drums, as a remix to a familiar song starts to play. The people on the dance floor all cheer before singing along, all of them seemingly catching a second wind and dancing harder. You find yourself starting to nod to the music, the alcohol you've consumed helping you loosen up.

Mylo and Claggor catch sight of you and start waving you over, their own drinks spilling as they do so. You wave them off in response, content in staying in the corner--and avoiding being given shots--and watch the room.

They look like they're about to walk over and pull you into the dance circle they've formed where Ekko is having a dance-off with Vi. But then the chorus of the song picks up and they immediately jump up and pump their arms, and you're left forgotten in your corner.

You continue watching your friends, occasionally sipping your drink. You're just about to head over to the bar and get everyone a few water bottles, when you catch a whiff of a familiar smoky perfume. You remind yourself to ask her what perfume she uses as a pair or arms snakes around your waist, and you feel her rest her head against the back of your shoulder.

She asks you a question, she knows you can't hear it, but asks anyway. You roll your eyes in response, and take out one of your earplugs, the music suddenly becoming ten times louder. She gets on her tip toes, inadvertently pulling you back a bit, leaning next to your ear.

"Now why are you hiding here?" Her words are just a tiny bit slurred as she says this. You snort, and turn around--a little less graceful than you usually are--meeting her expectant, slightly glazed eyes; the lights of the bar giving them a pink shade. Her smile is lopsided, and moves her arms to wrap around your neck. You tilt your head so you can speak a little closer to her ear, she pulls you closer to her.

"Maybe I was just waiting for you here so I could get you to myself."

She grins. "Well I'm here. What now, oh great mastermind?"

Her eyes flit to your lips for a moment, before settling back to yours. There's an expectant look in them, a welcome invitation.

You lean in and close that gap between the two of you. Suddenly the music in the bar is deafened, the only thing flooding your senses is her perfume, her arms around your neck, and the taste of the alcohol on her lips.

Maybe drinking on a weekday isn't such a bad idea, after all.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Wheezy winters pt.2

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 900

Summary: after your asthma puffer runs out your girls keep a close eye on you as your wait for another. Will you be ok?

TW: Asthmas attack (is that a warning? Idk.)

A/n seeings you guys seemed to like the first part so much here’s a part 2 for y’all

|| PART 1 ||

“Y/n/n? Love? Come on or we’re gonna be late to training.” Wanda called from the bathroom. Grumbling you threw off the sheets and pulled on some winter appropriate training clothes.

“Y/n/n, wands? You coming? Steve’s waiting.” Nat called, knocking on the closed door. She was always up early and so of course she was ready to go.

“Coming” you called grabbing your coat. With one foot out the door, you felt an arm wrap around your bicep.”

“Love. Have you taken your puffer?” Wanda asked eyes sparkling. She had checked every morning of the past week to make sure before letting you leave the shared bedroom.

You sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose. You had hoped she would forget, but you knew she wouldn’t.

“Its out?” You said sounding so unsure it was phrased as a question.

“Love.” Wanda sighed looking at you and visibly deflating.

“I’ll be fine.” You smiled, grabbing your mini backpack which housed your ‘in case of an attack’ puffer. Quickly you rushed out the door, Wanda sighed before following, knowing you wouldn’t be talked out of coming on the run.

“Ok but take it easy.” Wanda called after you, grabbing her own coat and following behind.

When the team was all gathered at the base of the compound, Steve began the run. Wanda and Nat jogged close behind you, talking in hushed tones, you knew they were talking about you.

“Wands I’m worried, why didn’t she get a new one.”

“She said she’s waiting for her prescription from Cho. And the new puffer wont be in until next Tuesday.”

“But it’s Wednesday.” Nat frowned “thats too many runs without her preventer.”

“I know love, I’ll love for pietros spare when we get back.”

“Ok” Nat nodded. “Then I guess we’ll just keep a close eye on her today.”

Wanda nodded in response.

Your chest felt ok. Or at least it had when you started the run. You were nearing the ten minute mark and feeling a bit too confident. Picking up your pace, you felt a hand on your lower back.

“Love. Take it easy today.” Nat’s voice was softer than her hands as she spoke so the rest of the team, who were all way ahead, wouldn’t hear. You nodded a response, the tell tale tightening wheeze confirming her words. In an attempt to stifle the attack, you tried to steady your breathing. Taking slow deep breathes and trying the wheeze quietly. Unknowingly in your focus to slow your breathing, your speed had dropped almost to a stop. Nat and Wanda appeared on both sides of you.

“Love?” Wanda called.

“Y/n/n sweetheart?” Nat echoed

“Yeah.” You huffed between breaths.

“Are you ok?” Nat asked

“Peachy.” You grinned, the pause making you cough and your chest tightened. Wanda frowned, guiding you to the floor. Her furrowed brow deepening at your lack of protest. You were almost as stubborn as Nat when it came to your health.

“Breathe love.” Wanda smiled, pulling you into her chest. You were sat between her legs on the concrete, your back against her chest. As Wanda held you close in an attempt to stem the panic she could feel rising in you, nat fumbled with the zip. Blushing slightly as the mighty black widow was defeated by a simple zipper.

“Here.” Wanda stretched out a hand, her eyes never leaving your form.

Nat handed over the bag and Wanda unzipped it, pulling out the puffer and handing it to you. Unfortunately your hands were shaking far to much to be of any use. Nat gently took the puffer from you, handing it to Wanda. You were gasping at this point. Nat’s hand rubbed circles on your back as Wanda uncapped and slipped it between your lips. Tilting it back slightly and pressing it down, she instructed you to hold your breathe for the count of five. Both girls slowly counting out loud in sync. When they reached zero, you deflated your puffed up chest. Wanda repeated the process, push, puff, count, breathe, until the wheeze was lesser and you could take a half breath.

Nat lent down scooping you out of Wanda’s embrace and holding you bridal style as she carried you back to the compound in a slow jog. Wanda running close behind.

When the three of you made it back, your girls explained the situation to cho. Who promptly put you on a low flow oxygen mask and put a rush on your puffer.

Tiredly you laid on the bed, nat on one side running her hands through your hair. Wanda on the other side rubbing circles on your thigh. You fought to keep you eyes open, tired from the near hyperventilating.

“Its ok love, you can sleep.” Wanda cooed.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Nat smiled.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off to dreamland.

A/N I literally had an Asthma attack (kinda) while writing this lol. I have a love hate relationship with winter. My mind loves it. My lungs hate it.

masterlist

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves…difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

[confusedpan-da]

Writing Request! Denki accidentally regressing in front of either the whole squad or just Mina and Sero

THANK YOUUU!!! <3

I got way too happy over this request lol :3

Warnings(?): distant threat of Bakugou blowing the rest of the Bakusquad up. (But he’s only mentioned here)

Also mentions of his birthday that I missed but hey, I’m here now :))

iPhone baby Kaminari entered the chat. ^^ (not a lot of talk about regression etc but idk how to label this soo)

Words: ~900

starts after the cut!

School wasn’t easy. Everyone knew this.

However this particular school day just seemed like an absolute overkill. 

Denki sighed when he finally was able to fall into his soft bed. His head was more than empty and his limbs were screaming at him to never be moved ever again. 

“Hey there!”

Oh shit.

Denki shot back up. 

“Hey Mina.”

“Come on dude, we still gotta ‘talk’”, Sero shuffled in right after Mina while doing some finger guns. 

Denki’s response could only be described as the perfect embodiment of a question mark.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?! Hello??”, Mina gasped. 

“Oh! Oh oh oh! No! I would never forget…that! The…mh.”

“Theeeee?”, Mina had now flopped herself down next to Denki onto his bed. 

“Yeah! Theeeee…. You know.”

“God just say you forgot about the surprise we are planning for Bakugou.”

“Oh That! … I knew that.”

“Yeah yeah.”, Sero rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Hey! I did! I just thought we still needed to wait for Kirishima!”

“He’s coming a bit later. S still trying to get some kind of idea out of blasty what he could possibly want.”

“Ah.”

“Are you okay?”, Sero also let himself fall onto the bed. 

“Yeah just erm eh.”

Sero squinted but didn’t push any further. 

Luckily because Denki really wasn’t in the mood for thinking right now. 

“Okayyyy! Sadly we”, Mina fake coughed to hide a little ‘you’ behind it “decided against a grand party with the whole class! Sooo what do we do? Just like ‘surprise! Here is our gift! That’s it.’ or what?!”

“Maybe? I mean that would probably be the safest option, wouldn’t it?”, Sero chuckled. 

Denki perked up. 

“We could do a… erm thingy. You know!”, he gestured wildly with his hands, trying to replicate the way his hands moved when he was playing with his Nintendo. 

Sadly the others didn’t get it.

He sighed deeply. 

“You know! The the thing! The play thing! We could do one like the whole… erm you know! Come on!”

“…You mean a gaming night or something?”

“Yesss!!!”, he bounced a little on his mattress. 

Mina only laughed.

“We can do that for your birthday but I don’t think blasty would appreciate that.”

“Why?!”

“…because I don’t want to risk losing my head.”

They all fell silent for a little bit while thinking. 

“Tha- the, you know! We, so like him and yeah could go to and-“

“Denki! Breathe! We can’t understand you!”, Sero placed a soft hand on Denki’s shoulder while laughing and Mina was smiling at him sympathetically. 

“Ah… I mean, we we could go to the thing there to…”, words sure are a…thing that exist. He again tried to just ‘sign’ what he was trying to say. 

“Uhhh I love charade! Wait wait! Speak? Type???”

Denki shook his head. 

“Erm eat! Eat! It’s eat!”

Yessss!! He nodded. 

“Ohhhh you mean going out to a restaurant or something?”

“Yes! God!”, Denki let himself fall fully into Sero and said guy just ruffled Denki’s hair and put his arms around him. 

“Poor Pikachu.”, Mina lovingly flicked his forehead. 

“Hey!”, he pouted but didn’t actually get to ponder about it too much when his eyes caught a glimpse of Sero’s handy. 

Almost automatically he stretched out his hand towards it until he got brutally ripped out of it by Mina’s voice.

“I’m just trying to get into his mindset. Okayyyy.”, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Don’t you think that would end in a kind of Gordon Ramsey episode?”

“Uh ouch, you are right.”, Sero winced playfully. 

Damn the phone slipped out of sight. 

Denki sighed dramatically. 

“Sorry sorry but all your ideas can be stuff for play dates or something.”

“Huh?”, Denki shrieked a little at the word play. 

Actually he really wanted to play something right now. Just anything. Preferably games on Sero’s phone. 

He cuddled deeper into Sero’s side, loving the body contact and clear view on the phoneee. 

“Hey, you are going to make me jealous guys!”

“Kiriii!”, Denki shrieked before schooling his whole everything again. 

His cheeks going bright red. 

“…hey Denks.”, Kirishima just huffed out before pressing himself onto the mattress as well with a loud sigh. 

“I think I messed up guys.”

“What?!”

Denki’s brain didn’t have the mental capacity to really make sense of anything right now anymore, so he just finally grabbed over Sero’s lab and reached the long desired phone. 

He squeaked silently and tried to open it. 

Locked screen.

Damn.

He shoved his elbow into Sero’s side. 

“Hey! What Are you doing with my phone mh?”, Sero ruffled through Denki’s hair again. 

“The thinggggg!”, he whined. 

How did they just expect him to know all these big words?! 

“You wanna play?”

The others laughed.

“You know what, good choice dude. The day was hard.”, Kirishima giggled. 

“Uh uh uh! I know something! Since you messed up miserably and Sparky will be here any minute now to blow our heads off, how about we just make a surprise cake tomorrow?”

“Hey! I didn’t mess up ‘miserably’, Bakubro is just way too smart!”

“No no no. You are just horrible at keeping secrets.”

“Playyy!”

“Sorry sorry.”

Finally the phone got unlocked and Denki fully locked out of anything going on around him. 

He’ll now play candy crush, thank you!

[queenofmoons67]

sunny feathers drifting down: a top gun non-fix-it fic

Summary: When Maverick arrives at TOPGUN, he’s young and cocky. In a world where he and Goose both walk away from the ejection with only minor injuries, he also dies young and cocky.

Word Count: ~900

WARNINGS for major character death by fire (though the death itself is NOT graphic)

“Icarus” By E.L. Mayo Beating his homemade wings against the sun, Icarus was clumsy, but wing-torn And plummeting toward the sea, Though followed leisurely By hosts of sunny feathers drifting down, He found the fair arc of proportion Which is perpetual and cannot drown.

Wolfman has been treading water for less than ten minutes when he hears the sound of another plane colliding with the Indian Ocean. He turns around as fast as he can, legs already aching from the hard landing and burning where salt water enters his shrapnel cuts, and has to resist reaching out to hold onto Hollywood, lest they both go under.

Circles, he tells himself, and keeps moving his arms. He can’t be dead weight for his pilot. Not even when his eyes are caught on the burning wreck of an F-14 Tomcat a mile away, smoke billowing towards the sky and—

“Parachute!” Wolfman yells, then dips underwater as he forgets to keep swimming.

Coming up coughing, he grabs Hollywood by the shoulder and shakes him once before letting go to squint past the smoke. The wind blows it away from them, but it still coats the air around the parachute.

“Can you see another one?” he asks. Then, when he gets no response, “Holly? Do you see another parachute?”

The aviator he’s watching has started to clear the smoke, clearly doing his best to angle towards the green dye around Wolfman and Hollywood, but Wolfman still can’t see another parachute. And then—

“Wolf,” Hollywood rasps. “The plane.”

“What?” Wolfman looks at his pilot, and then at the plane.

It’s already starting to sink nose first, but the flames burn on, no doubt because of the onboard fuel, missiles, and gunpowder. The tail is mostly clear, though, and Wolfman can make out the BRADSHAW painted underneath where the canopy once was.

“Ouch,” he says. “Second ejection for Mav and Goose in a month?”

But Hollywood just says, “The cockpit,” and Wolfman looks, squinting once more past the smoke and fire.

There’s a shadow, he thinks. One shaped like the pilot’s seat.

Then the shadow moves, just barely, stiff and small, and Wolfman tastes bile at the back of his throat as he jolts, gaze flying desperately back to the lone parachute above them.

“Maverick,” he says, and swallows. “Goose is gonna—Maverick!”

Wolfman’s slow tread in the water turns to a desperate stroke for only a second before he feels arms wrap around him, holding him back, and he sobs as he turns to look at his pilot.

“We can’t just leave him there!”

But Hollywood shakes his head. “He was dead the moment he hit the water,” he says, and Wolfman throws his arm back to point, shaky, at the plane and the shadow and the movement he saw.

“He’s still alive! I—”

“He’s dead!” Hollywood snaps. “He’s a mile away. We can’t possibly reach him in time, let alone get past the fire alive. Wolf!”

He grabs hold of Wolfman, and the RIO sinks below the waves for a moment before coming up again, spluttering in his pilot’s hold.

“We have to save Goose,” Hollywood says. “Do you hear me? Mav is dead, but we can save Goose.”

Hollywood starts swimming, strong strokes guiding him towards Goose’s parachute, which looks only a minute from landing.

Wolfman follows his pilot.

In seconds, screams reach his ears, Goose’s voice raw as he calls, “Maverick! Maverick answer me!”

He must have seen Maverick’s shadow, Wolfman thinks, or realized he was the only one to eject, as the parachute has started floating down closer to the downed plane again. But it’s too late for Goose to change course now, and he hits the water hard, green dye instantly spreading out around him. Wolfman strokes through it and latches onto the other RIO, arms strong despite the grief making them shake. Hollywood has a grip on him, too, but Goose heaves against them and screams in Wolfman’s ear.

“PETE!”

The noise rips through him, grating as nails on a chalkboard and making him recoil from Goose before lunging forward to latch onto him again. Hollywood glares at Wolfman, arms tight around Goose’s stomach and mouth dipping in and out of the waves, but Goose doesn’t look at either of them.

His eyes are focused on the smoke in the distance, the Tomcat and the shadow that Wolfman refuses to look at again. Instead, he closes his eyes and buries his face in the junction between Goose’s neck and shoulder. The salt of the ocean burns, and his legs ache even more than before because Goose keeps kicking him, but his heart hurts worse than anything else.

Just weeks ago, Maverick and Goose ejected into the Pacific and shared a laugh at the O Club after, only a couple of bruises between them. They’d been grounded only long enough for the ground crew to paint their names on a new Tomcat. Wolfman had been jealous of their invincibility then.

No one is laughing now.

No one is invincible either.

Later, when they step out of the rescue helicopter and back onto the USS Enterprise, a somber crew will greet them. There will be no shouts or cheers, no handshakes or promises. Ice and Slider will step forward to take Goose from Wolfman and Hollywood, and Wolfman will pretend he doesn’t hear Ice whisper apologies in Goose’s ear.

“He was a good wingman,” Ice will say. “I wish I could have known him better.”

[snowdrrops]

3 WAYS TO FLIRT WITH DIVINER FU

FEAT; jingyuan x fuxuan [hsr] WC; 900+ SUMMARY; Yanqing gives advice to the General of the Cloud Knights. Confusion ensues.

there's no jy x fx tag on ao3 yet 😭 so only on tumblr for now. also i finally got hsr headers???

1: compliments

The very first time Jingyuan brings up the topic of courting Fuxuan occurs on a sun drenched Thursday afternoon, with Yanqing by his side. 

Jingyuan held back a smile when Yanqing’s eyes widened in unabashed excitement delight at the variety of food displayed on the table, which happened to include many of Yanqing’s favourites. He glanced up at the General before giving the food his fullest attention again. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Is there a need for a special occasion to savour your favourite delicacies?” 

Yanqing shook his head eagerly. “Of course not.”

Jingyuan leaned back in his seat. “Well then, you should start eating before the food turns cold.”

The younger boy flashed him a grin, and Jingyuan knew he had already won. Well, at least he hoped he had.

“Yanqing.”

“Hm?”

“There’s a matter of urgency I’d like to talk to you about.”

Yanqing looked up at him unfazed, setting down his spoon. “I saw this coming, to be frank. What’s up?”

Jingyuan rested his hands on the table and mentally went over the script he had come up with during the duration of the past week. Unhesitatingly, he said, “I’d like to court Master Diviner Fuxuan.”

Initially, Jingyuan had come up with forty six ways in which this revelation could go. The most likely out of all of them was receiving a laugh out of Yanqing.

But he must have made a miscalculation along the way, because what he did get as a response is a pained groan.

“Ughhhh, General! Your jokes are becoming more far-fetched with each passing day! You want to court Diviner Fu? Please don’t subject me through the torment of listening to this again!” Yanqing exclaimed, dramatically holding a hand to his chest.

Jingyuan was… beyond stunned. Was it that difficult for Yanqing to envision a future for Fuxuan and himself? Or maybe he already had someone else in mind for her? That would be most unfortunate, since he knew how hard it was to change Yanqing’s mind. In any case, his top priority was to convince the boy that he was being genuine. 

As Jingyuan was trying to string his words together, Yanqing’s amused expression dissolved into one of shock and disbelief. 

“General, you’re being serious?” Yanqing asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his tone.

At this, Jingyuan gave a nod. Words had failed him.

Yanqing reached into his pocket for his phone as a mischievous smile broke out on his face. His hesitation from a few seconds ago seems to have dissipated. This got rid of one of Jingyuan’s worries.

“I’m going to text her right now. Even if you’re lying, it’ll be fun to see this play out before my eyes.”

Ah, at least some of this situation was going to plan. He slid a sleek, grey debit card across the table, right in Yanqing’s line of vision. 

The younger boy sighed. “Now that’s just cheating.”

Jingyuan shot him a smile, which was received with a scowl. “If you assist me in courting her, this shall be yours.”

Yanqing pocketed his phone and folds his arms, huffing at the same time. “What do you want me to help with?”

“Flirting.”

“Never in my life would I have envisioned you saying that,” he says with a chuckle. “Are you sure that words are the way to Diviner Fu’s heart? What if she’s so repulsed by your coquetry that she decides to quit her job? General, when was the last time you made romantic advances to someone?”

“Approximately a hundred years ago? I can’t be sure…”

Yanqing poorly disguised his laugh as a loud cough. 

“But it doesn’t matter now, since my attempts have clearly failed. That’s why I’m asking you for help,” Jingyuan continued. 

Yanqing snapped his fingers and stood from his seat. “Okay, enough of that. Judging from the situation now, I’m going to have to start from the basics.

One of the ways to a person’s heart is compliments, and I don’t mean the cliche ‘you look beautiful’ or ‘I love the way you did your hair today’,” he explained, pacing the dining hall with his hands behind his back like a trained professional. 

“Your compliments need to carry an air of affection, and they have to be as specific and poetic as possible. 

If you want to convey your admiration for the way she looks, compare her beauty to the shimmering stars in the night sky, or maybe the orange glow of the sunset beneath the horizon.”

At some point, Jingyuan procured a notebook out of thin air and started to take pointers down. The discussion went on for the next four hours, and by the time Yanqing paused for a sip of water, the sun had already gone down.

“Tell me how it goes tomorrow. Good luck, General!”

Jingyuan was still reading from his notebook the next afternoon when Fuxuan’s hologram appeared before him. She raised a brow at him when their eyes met. 

“What did you need me for, General? Another Stellaron crisis?” Fuxuan asked, folding her arms.

Jingyuan recalls the notes that Yanqing had given him and takes a deep breath in. Here goes nothing.

“Fuxuan, perfume doesn’t suit you at all, because you already-”

Before Jingyuan was able to continue, Fuxuan’s eyes narrowed to slits and she scoffed. Very loudly. “You’ve reached a new low, Jingyuan. I’ve sacrificed thirty seconds of my lunchtime to speak to you, only to receive such hurtful remarks? Goodbye.”

She didn’t even give him time to explain himself, her hologram disappearing after she said her piece. Jingyuan stared at the spot she was standing a few moments before.

Where did he go wrong?

[reloha]

@aletterinthenameofsanity: #tenmartha is interesting *because* of the blatant attraction between them (and the way their arcs affect each other etc.)#woobifying ten strips so much interest/complicated dynamics from their relationship#also it's very clear why people do this *cough* racism *cough*#there are companions that literally snog the doctor w/out permission & that's considered more understandable than Martha *having feelings*

@twelvemartha: #it's very very telling how they coddle the doctor#as if he needs to be ? protected ? defended ? from martha#who they paint as this predator. which is the perfect word to use#why are they treating a black woman as the aggressor for having the audacity to have FEELINGS for someone?#after the shakespeare code martha never flirts with him again#because she realizes he doesn't feel the same way#in fact she actively HIDES her feelings#the only times she brings them up is when someone else does first#like just admit you hate martha for Daring to love the doctor - who 'belongs' to rose#and for having the gall to try and 'replace' her (see: accepting his offer of traveling with him)

@stewy: #when she's scared of SLAVERY he dgaf. when she's uncomfortable with sharing a bed with a stranger he dgaf.#he says goodbye to her after stringing her along for MULTIPLE trips (even though his precious boundaries said ONE TRIP!)#then immediately makes a shit excuse to spend one more night with her and when she's like hey i kinda don't want to be treated like discard

@rudestmechanical: #the thing is the thing is the thing is#ten wants martha to want him. he revels in the fact that she wants him.#he brags about the fact that she wanted him to donna! with zero prompting!#he wanted her to want him because then she wouldn’t leave him then he wouldn’t be alone#he wanted her to want him because then he’d have the upper hand.#he’s also. Constantly offering to kiss her. he does so in shakespeare code he does so in daleks of manhattan/evolution of the daleks#he wants tom to look like him he wants tom to look like him so bad he wants to be indispensable to martha#he wants martha to want him because then he can be weak with her and expect her to treat him exactly the same#more than any other companion he opens up to her about what he has suffered his weaknesses his fears#he is immensely brutal and inhuman and weak around her#see his breakdown in 42. see him screaming at the clone in poison sky even as martha tries to comfort her#he wants to die but he doesn’t want to die alone#he wants her there with him in the bus when he’s driving it off the cliff. but he wants her to want to be there willingly#this might not make any sense i just have lots of emotions about martha jones

@cherrypenny: #yeah among everything else it just further proves one of my incredibly firm beliefs#which is#the doctor understands human social cues flawlessly actually#it's just most of the time he doesn't care or pretends not to care for his benefit#look at this situation!! he seduced her and he was very aware of it#it was very intentional#and then martha is somehow weird for wanting him#for christ's sake

@agomen: #YES HE IS SENDING MIXED MESSAGES#ppl like to say oooh hes being soo clear that his intentions arent romantic#hellooooo??#i want you to watch her season from her perspective PLEAEE bcs she comes in not knowing all the things You know abt him#and if i was her id be like yeaaa hes gettting cozy with me sometimes and sometimes not but maybe hea just fickle idk#and see all the times where he pushes her boundaries!!#can we have the 900+ yo alien take some responsibility instead of blaming everything on a 23 yo black woman

the absolutely worst genre of anti-martha posts have to be the ones where they make her out to be some kind of predator. “oh, but he put up such CLEAR boundaries! martha refused to respect them and kept making him uncomfortable!”

…you mean the same guy that did this?

insane but i digress. also the same guy that did this?

even more insane. brother i promise you didn’t have to do all that. you could have spat and it would have worked.

also the same guy that did this:

you get what i’m saying.

my point is that he constantly blurs the lines of their relationship. kisses her, then tells her it was just a genetic transfer (doesn’t make sense), then he invites her to travel with him (oh just one more trip, oh just one more), shares A BED with her at HIS behest, and you lot can’t come to the conclusion that maybe martha is confused, that he’s sending mixed signals? no, she has to be a creep. get a grip icl

[no1frogfan]

Tsukishima finds out you’re sick

Tsukishima finds out you’re sick. Word count: ~900

Fem reader

Notes: First story!

~~~~~~~~~~

Tsukishima is a little put out. Usually you message him during practice with something sappy like “miss you!” or “made your favorite dinner <3”. He always rolls his eyes, but you know he secretly loves getting them because the few times you got caught up with work and forgot, he was definitely sulky when he got back to the apartment. So when he goes to check his phone after practice and doesn’t see anything, he huffs, glowering at his empty notifications.

“—wasn’t it Tsukki?!”

No answer.

“…TSUKKI?!” Koganegawa yells.

“WHAT?!” Tsukishima yells back, glaring up from the screen.

Koganegawa looks taken aback. “…I just wanted to know if you saw all the great blocks I pulled off tonight…” he trails off seeing Tsukishima’s expression.

“What’s up with you?” Kyoutani mutters, glancing at Tsukishima from the corner of his eyes before pulling his sweaty jersey over his head.

Tsukishima turns to scowl at Kyoutani, rolling his eyes. “None of your business,” he grumbles, quickly setting down his phone. Looking back to Koganegawa, he concedes, “Yes Koganegawa, I saw. The timing of your blocks have improved a bit since our last match against them.”

Koganegawa’s face lights up at the rare compliment. “I’ll work even harder for next time!” He promises enthusiastically before running off toward the showers.

“HEY! Don’t run, you’ll slip!” Kyoutani yells after him, walking to the showers himself.

Tsukishima sighs, stuffing his phone in his bag before also heading to rinse off. He raises his head to see Kyoutani giving him a quizzical look. “What?” Tsukishima growls.

Kyoutani shakes his head and turns back around toward the showers.

Usually Tsukishima rushes to shower and get back to the apartment, but this time he drags his feet, moping as he rinses off and gets dressed again.

“What, not excited to see your girlfriend today?” Kyoutani teases gruffly.

Tsukishima scoffs, “At least I’ve got one.”

Tsukishima tries his best to walk nonchalantly out of the locker room. She’s probably just really busy today, he rationalizes. But you hadn’t missed a text in ages. You even told him you’d set an alarm so you wouldn’t forget. Stop being such a child. But he’s sulking as he reaches the front door. He takes a deep breath. Get it together you big baby, Kei tells himself before putting the key in the lock.

Kei walks in to the apartment and closes the door. Silence. He looks around, confused. You always welcome him home with a “Kei~ welcome back!” Sometimes a kiss too, if you aren’t in the middle of something. It made his heart swell each and every time knowing you were excited to see him again, no matter if he was gone for 10 hours or 10 minutes.

He hears a sound from the living room. Dropping his bag, he quickly strides into the apartment and sees you curled up underneath a blanket on the couch. Your breathing sounds shallow and a bit raspy. You cough. Tsukishima walks up, gently taking the phone dangling precariously from your left hand and placing it on the coffee table. You cough again. Kei frowns, putting his hand to your forehead. He pulls it back quickly. You’re burning up.

Tsukishima slowly picks you up off the couch, trying not to wake you.

You stir, half opening your eyes as you’re pressed against his chest. “Kei?” you mumble.

“This is what you get for refusing to take my jacket on Monday night,” he scolds. You squeeze his arm in response and he grimaces at how weak you are.

Tsukishima gently props you up on the bed and pulls the covers up around you. He walks out and returns within seconds with a glass of water and some medicine. “Here, take this and then go to sleep,” he murmurs. He sits down on the bed next to you and rubs your back tenderly while you take the medicine and gulp down some water. He helps you lay back down and tucks you in, kissing your sweaty forehead. He frowns and sighs to himself when he feels again how hot it is against his lips. He refills the cup of water and quietly sets it down on the nightstand next to you before turning off the lights.

“Love you,” Kei hears you whisper behind him. “Love you too, dummy” he responds, closing the bedroom door.

Heading back to the kitchen, Tsukishima puts away the ingredients you had taken out of the fridge in preparation for dinner and pulls out his phone to order himself something to eat. He rinses some rice and puts it on the stove to boil, remembering that you like to have plain okayu whenever you’re sick.

He plops down on the couch as he waits for the rice to boil and his dinner to arrive. “Guess I’m sleeping out here tonight,” Tsukishima sighs to himself, looking around for the extra blankets and pillows. His eyes land on your phone. He picks it up and unlocks it to email your boss that you won’t be able to go to the office tomorrow. He smiles when he sees the text you wrote before you fell asleep: guess what? you’re my favorite!!!

[timetorace]

𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Hi everyone. I still don´t have my laptop and I´m writing on my phone so things are taking me forever. To the anon that requested: hope you like this I didn´t know if you wanted fluffy or angsty so I did fluff?​

ship: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader.

summary:  Daniel has an accident and you get scared.

warnings: hospital. crash.

word count: +900 words. 

Love had caught you off guard, you hadn't seen Daniel come and yet there you were. Sitting on a couch watching him sleep, you had gotten off a twelve-hour flight less than an hour ago. You had the bad luck that you didn't travel with Daniel that weekend and he had had an accident at the start of the race, at least his mother had been there when it happened. The doctor had assured you that he was fine and that they had only given him analgesics intravenously to calm the pain and that Daniel could get some sleep. The beep of the machine that marked his heartbeat was starting to make you a little anxious, you needed to know for sure that he was fine but he hadn't opened his eyes yet and you were getting more nervous.

You had always been aware of the possibility that running at 300 kilometers per hour was not the safest job in the world but you had lived with the idea that it was not often that drivers ended up in the hospital given a great safety that cars had. Formula One those days.

You were looking out the window of his room when you detected movement out of the corner of your eye. When you turned to see, Daniel was reaching for the pitcher of water that was on the bedside table "Water" He gasped.

You nodded before pouring him a glass of water and giving it to him "How are you feeling?" You asked him "The doctor told your mom that you should be able to get out of here in a couple of days and be back racing in a few weeks."

"Good" He replied after taking a sip of water "I mean, my wrist and knee hurt but I'll survive" He coughed.

You nodded your head in response. Daniel cocked his head to look at you.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked you.

You let out a sigh letting go of the tension you were feeling "No It's just-I mean-" You couldn't find the words to describe all the feelings you've had since the accident happened "You've never been so close " You explained "That was a close call" Daniel's car had been torn to pieces and destroyed, the restart of the race had taken them more than an hour which was enough for you to go crazy in that time.

"I know, but I'm fine I promise" He assured you stretching his arm a little to place his hand on yours.

"I know you are but-" You let out a sigh "I almost lost you" You confessed biting your lower lip "Or that´s what I thought when I saw it on TV" In the end, it hadn't been that bad but when you got on to the plane, there was still no news about him and you had had to take the twelve-hour flight without knowing if he was okay. "And the very idea felt terrifying for a moment"

"Oh babe" He murmured giving you a comforting smile "I know it must have been scary but I´m in one piece"

"You were unconscious when they took you out of the car" You pointed.

"It's the heat of Malaysia, I swear" He explained "they took their sweet time getting me out and I swear the heat with the fireproof suit is 100 degrees more"

You nodded not quite sure what to say next.

"I´m okay, I promise" He murmured giving you a slight smile "Well kind of, is me minus some ribs and a concussion," He said and let out a laugh "Oh, and of course the knee, the dislocated shoulder, and the sprained wrist "

You rolled your eyes but you gave him a smile too "I see that your humor is still intact"

"I´m okay babe, I promise" He assured you kissing your hands together "Did you take a flight here?"

You nodded softly "Pretty much the worst 12 hours of my life" You had to wait to land to hear from him and you hadn't slept a wink of course.

"Did you sleep at all?" Daniel asked and you wondered if maybe you had bags under your eyes after being awake for almost a whole day.

"No, I was too worried so I worked and then when I got here I didn't want to leave in case you woke up" You shrugged "I forced your mom to go to the hotel to get some sleep though"

Daniel shifted gently on the bed and you watched as he let out a groan of pain as the IV moved.

"What are you doing?"

"Making room for you," He told you like it was obvious and then patted the side of him on the bed with his good arm. "You need to sleep and I doubt you're going to do it on the sofa" Daniel winked at you "Sleeping with me is much more tempting"

You rolled your eyes "I see the accident didn't affect your ego either" You told him but you still sat on the edge of the bed to take off your shoes.

"I´m aware of my many attributes" He added and you rolled your eyes again before lying down next to him. Daniel moved so that you were semi-lying on top of him.

"Your ribs are going to hurt" You warned him.

"It's worth it" He murmured against your hair. You smiled before closing your eyes. He was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

[softxsuki]

...It's me again- can I have a urgent request with eren,levi and Jean with romantic s/o that has covid, but like it's really bad? (Headcanons pls)

It's like my surgery wasn't enough I needed to catch covid and I saw people yesterday 🥲

I feel like my whole body is dying rn

Thanks 😃❤️

Eren, Levi, and Jean Taking Care of Reader with Covid

Pairings: Eren x Gn!Reader, Levi x Gn!Reader, Jean x Gn!Reader

Warnings: reader sick with Covid

Genre: Modern AU, Comfort, some fluff?

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 900

Summary: How the boys react to you getting sick with Covid

[A/N: Hey! Thank you for your patience with your request. I'm sorry it's a little short and they might not be that great. I couldn't think of anything directly romantic to add to these, so I kept the romance a little subtle I hope that okay. I'm not exactly in the best mental state right now, but I wanted to get this done for you while you were still feeling unwell to help provide you with some comfort. So I hope these came out at least a little decent. Feel better soon <3 also sorry if there are any mistakes, I didn't proofread :(.]

Eren:

Protect this man

He’s so scared for you; literally thinks you’re going to die (you're not of course)

But he doesn’t outwardly show it, he’s just kinda freaking out on his own

You’re supposed to be quarantining in your room on your OWN, but Eren refuses to take his eyes off of you, he’ll sit in a chair in the corner of the room and keep you company no matter how many times you tell him to get out before he gets himself sick

No lie though, he would probably cozy up beside you in bed just so he can keep an even closer eye on you and properly take care of you

So consider your whole house a quarantine zone because he’s 100% getting infected with Covid and he doesn’t care

He takes very good care of you, giving you 10000% of his attention, making sure you get better as soon as possible

He googles a whole bunch of homemade remedies that people said worked for them, and prepares it all for you (orders all the ingredients online for delivery)

He takes your temperature every hour and as much as it hurts to see you in discomfort, he confiscates all your heavy blankets so your fever can go down quicker

Anything you want or need, he gets it for you

He also makes sure that you get plenty of rest, so while you sleep, he tries to keep himself occupied doing something else around the house or playing a game or something, making sure the volume is low so he doesn’t wake you up, but stays in the bedroom so he can watch over you

He’s super relieved when you’re fully healed, but get ready because it’ll be your turn to take care of him now, he has zero regrets though, he’s glad he was able to care for you instead of avoiding you for a week

Levi:

Let’s not kid ourselves here, Levi is GONE as soon as he knows you have Covid

But that doesn’t mean he won’t take care of you–he just does so from afar

As soon as he finds out, your bedroom becomes your quarantine zone

He starts wearing a mask around the house 24/7, even when he showers because he is NOT taking any chances, he refuses to get sick

However, he does want you to get better and his heart breaks at hearing your coughs and groans of fatigue and pain, so he comes up with a plan

He prepares you meals and leaves them outside the door for you, knocking quickly to let you know the food is ready and runs to the other side of the room and waits for you to get your food

It’ll be a relief for you though, knowing that Levi won’t get sick because of you

He’s extra diligent and frequent with his cleaning even though you never leave the room for the whole week, using the connected bathroom in the room to shower and use the toilet; Levi sticks to the spare bathroom and bedroom

He’s a busy, responsible man though so he does continue to go to work; he calls a friend over to watch over you to make sure you have someone around incase of an emergency and someone to make sure you’re well fed and hydrated

His phone ringer stays on for a change incase he receives a call and needs to rush to you immediately

Once you’re fully recovered and Covid free, Levi gets to work in cleaning your spare bedroom because he needs to be back to sleeping by your side immediately; he’d never admit how much he missed having you in his arms as he slept–that week was especially lonely for him and he’s relieved to have you healthy and happy again

Jean:

Jean is another one who is super worried at first, especially when he notices your discomfort

He does stick to keeping his distance from you, but it kills him inside to be parted from you for so long, so as the days pass he gets very impatient

Tries entering your room where you’re quarantining before the recommended amount of days is up, so be strict with him, he’ll listen if you tell him no

Jean pretends to busy himself around the house, calling in for work saying he can’t make it, but his excuse to you is that he’s feeling a little under the weather (lies)

He’ll never admit that he’s worried about you or that he’s calling in just so he can keep an eye on you

He sits behind the door and asks you to sit on the other side of it and you guys have some conversations, but then he feels bad when he hears you cough and tells you to get back in bed so you can rest

Keeps you well fed and even tries to sneakily hand you your food himself, but you have to shoo him away

He can’t wait for the day that he can hold you and kiss you again, he misses you more than he thought he would–not that he’d admit it

He tries to act normally when you’re cleared to end your quarantine, but his giddy smile that slips out a few times gives him away

Good luck getting out of his grip, he’s super clingy for the next few days

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 10/18/2022

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 3: The Ending Song

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 7889

Warnings: blood and death - and BY GOLLY my HEART brEaKiNg! I rewatched ‘The End of Time’ and literally s o b b e d 

Request: This is just from my own head 😊 ​

A/N: You and the Doctor grow closer 😏 but you also grow closer to the inevitable. And Holy Hell I’m so excited for you guys to read this part and the next one!

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 1: The Sun God

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song {You Are Here}

Part 4: The Dream

A raucous cough tore through her lungs, a metallic tang appearing on the back of her tongue. She wiped at her nose, clearing it of the blood it trickled.

“I could imagine the look on your stupid face,” she muttered, staring at the redness on her fingers, “You’d be so furious.” She grinned, laughing until she coughed again.

She sat at her dining table, hands shaky and sweaty as they held a leatherbound journal. The cover was etched with all sorts of designs, the same ones engraved on her zybanium watch. She had learned those funny circles and lines were Gallifreyan, the language of her people.

The Doctor had written the alphabet within the cover page, and in turn she was able to inscribe the writing on the front. 

She figured an account of her adventures with the Doctor were in order. It was, after all, what she thought about while she was stuck in her quarantined house. The discovery of her true origin was not enough to bring back her memories, but the ones she’d had… they were important enough to be documented.

You see, it was starting to dawn on (Y/N) that her time was up. The dying girls time was up. The Doctor was out saving the universe, waiting for a cure, and she was stuck there getting sicker all the while.

An empty iodine bottle sat beside the journal. The sight of it only made her smile grimly. Perhaps she should be upset with the Doctor, that he’d gotten sidetracked with doomed planets and desperate people. But that was one of the things she loved about him:

He couldn’t say no to someone asking for help.

Instead, with the days… hours… that she had left, she was going to write. Write about the memories she had, the ones that really mattered.

“You said, before when we were going to St. Bartholomew’s, that you were 900 years old.”

“904 actually.” The Doctor had thrown his coat over one of the many arches of the TARDIS.

(Y/N) sauntered over to the console, leaning against the railing, “So that’s a Time Lord thing; you live for hundreds of years?”

“Thousands,” he said, eyes sparkling at the questions, “Lords of time, we ought to have liberties with how much time we’re given to live.”

“That’s such a long time though,” (Y/N) said, “What do you do with all of it?”

He shrugged, “A lot of this,” he gestured towards the TARDIS, “We monitor time and space and make sure the big historical events happen and anything else out of the ordinary is fixed. We spend a lot of time studying… I hated all that studying.”

“But today you said there were no more Time Lords. Do you expect to live for thousands of years just on your own like that?”

His face was set, but he flounced about as if nothing was amiss in that question, “I’ve got some friends – sure they don’t always stick around – but I’ve been perfectly all right traveling on my own up til now. Why shouldn’t I just keep going on like that?”

“Seems like an awful lot of responsibility. All of space and creation under your jurisdiction.”

“I find it fascinating,” he flashed her a wide, cheeky grin.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it ever get overwhelming? I mean, trillions of years of material at your fingertips. Trillions of people with agency to mess it all up. It must be confusing figuring out what is supposed to be a historical event and what must be fixed.”

“It’s a curse, (Y/N).” His face was suddenly serious, “Some things are fixed, some things are in flux. That’s how I see the universe. Every waking second, I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not. That’s the burden of a Time Lord, (Y/N). And I’m the only one left.”

The way his voice tapered off at the end made her pause her interrogation. He fiddled with a few TARDIS things, grabbing wires and slinging them over the railing. She’d come to realize that he was obsessed with keeping himself occupied.

It was as though he knew he’d completely fall apart if he sat still and quiet with his thoughts for too long.

That was the day he sat her down and spoke in detail about his home planet. He spoke of his schoolboy days and how strict his upbringing was. He spoke of the autumn colors painting his world. He spoke of his friends and colleagues, the ones that urged him to run away when he did. He spoke of when he first took the TARDIS. Of how he’d been running ever since.

And in his effort to constantly keep moving, the Doctor and (Y/N) had landed themselves in a number of unsavory missions. Ones that didn’t always produce survivors.

“It’s either this entire ship or the rest of the world!” he yelled over the sirens. Water shoved its way into the lower decks, spraying the pair damp.

(Y/N) was livid, shouting above him, “There are hundreds of people on this ship! How can this be a fixed point in history? It’s just the Bermuda Triangle! It wouldn’t miss one ship.”

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the captains wheel, sparks flying, “And if these people live there will be hundreds of changes happening in the world. These people are meant to die, (Y/N)!”

She kicked water at him, “And you’re going to kill them?!”

He was breathing heavy, eyes wild and limbs working mechanically, “The creatures in this water need to feed. After this lot, most of them will become dormant. If they don’t get their fill they will resort to the shores and we don’t want to see what they can do on land, trust me.”

“Trust me – trust me – trust me,” (Y/N) waved her hands through the air, “That’s what you’ve been telling these people! What about the man whose got a pregnant wife back home? Or what about the first mate saving up to buy his parents their dream house? This is not just some historical event – they are real people with lives!”

“DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT!” His hair sopping, suit hanging limp at his shoulders, the Doctor stared at her with such anguish. “It’s a curse, (Y/N), a burden I must carry. I need to save the most people I can.”

“But no one should have to make those kinds of decisions. How could you?”

“I have to.” He stuck his screwdriver at a control panel, setting it ablaze as the water rose to their knees, “We have to get out of here.”

He walked away with a heavy step, (Y/N) watching him with angry tears in her eyes. She pushed her soaking wet hair out of her face, splashing purposefully towards him and grasping his arm.

“Just some, Doctor. The ship is about to go under, and I know there are people already lost to those creatures. But we can still save some.” She tried to pierce through the fire licking his gaze. He always got that way when he made impossible decisions.

“Please,” she begged, pulling on his arm. “You don’t have to save everyone, you can’t… But you have to save someone. At least one.”

And when they made it to the TARDIS, unknown sea monsters breaking the ship apart, they found half a dozen people gathered around the blue box. Some were injured, others were pinned by wreckage.

The Doctor assisted with pulling them free, ushering everyone into the box, “Everyone get in; hurry!”

(Y/N) was relieved, seeing the hope and kindness flood back into him. They were able to save those six people, safely returning them to the nearest shore.

(Y/N) then found herself sitting in the small living space outside her bedroom, a cup of tea and a book in hand. Her hair was still damp, but she’d changed into comfy pajamas. The Doctor was very quiet as he approached her, taking a seat on the adjacent couch.

He didn’t look at her when he said, “Yeah, you were right.” He played with his fingers awkwardly, “Sometimes I do need someone. To pull me back.”

He gave her a small thankful smile and she shone it back. They let that settle before (Y/N) took a sip of her tea and sighed dramatically.

“Molto bene!”

The Doctor gave an amused smirk, “Molto bene.”

And that’s how the USS Cyclops mysteriously disappeared traveling through the Bermuda Triangle back in 1918.

It’s also how (Y/N) discovered that the Doctor may be alone, may choose to be alone. But he shouldn’t be – he can’t be. Loneliness makes him bitter and if all people saw was the Oncoming Storm, they would never know the selfless, kind, brilliant, man she saw.

(Y/N) coughed and a spray of blood flecked the surface of her writing.

~~~

“You need to hold still.”

“Ow! Then stop making it worse.”

“It’s your squirming making it worse.” The Doctor dabbed at her arm, “If you had just stayed on the TARDIS…”

She hissed at the cotton swab, “No, if you had just let me take more of the tonic…”

“We have to make that last, (Y/N).”

“You’re impossible.”

“No,” the Doctor grabbed her chin, tilting her face towards him, “You are impossible.”

She had a funny feeling he was referring to more than her stubbornness. He had that same burning in his gaze, like he was smoldering on the inside. She thought she would never get used to it as it made her skin prickle with a pleasant static.

He seemed to notice the shift in her mood and smirked cheekily. Now that made her blush.

“How are your hearts?” he got a stupid grin on his face whenever he asked that.

“The left one is still faint,” she whispered, embarrassed by the butterflies his smile was giving her. “I don’t think it’ll be strong again until the cure.”

“We’ll need your blood, Doctor,” Novice Hame said, one of her sisters preparing a blood bag. “We should be able to create something healing from it, now that we know you’re both the same species.”

The Doctor had refused to take his hand out of (Y/N)’s, let alone leave her side, since finding out she was a Time Lord. He beamed importantly at the news his blood could be her saving grace.

“It has been extremely fortunate that you two are together,” one of the sisters said, “If the Doctor weren’t here, there’d be no hope for (Y/N).”

(Y/N) squeezed the Doctor’s hand, anxious energy making her chest constrict. And she couldn’t help but think: of all the alien species to be a part of… she was grateful it was Time Lord.

“She’ll need some transfusions when the process is complete. Hopefully putting natural Time Lord cells back in her body will spring it into action and create her own.”

(Y/N) sat in the med bay with a frown on her face, the Doctor closing her arm wound with a bandage. “I can’t wait to have regeneration energy.”

“Neither can I,” the Doctor said gleefully. “You’ll heal much faster with it.”

She swung her legs below the bed, “How long do you think a cure will take?”

“I’m not sure. Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “Do you want to go over Gallifreyan again? We could practice your alphabet. Or we could head to the basement and find my photo albums, old relics. The TARDIS is full of ancient history – just like me!” He gave a goofy smile, “I’ll show you what I have on the Citadel on Wild Eneavour. And, and Mount Cadon – the highest peak – where it can go past the violet clouds and the air diamonds. Or maybe we could go over Lake Abydos, quite literally the only lake on the planet. We used to do a lot of summer holidays there with the singing fish and the zinc hawthorns.”

“Doctor…” (Y/N) had a few fingers to her nose staunching a few drops of blood.

The Doctor froze for a few seconds before digging into his pockets, pockets that she was sure were full of Time Lord science – bigger on the inside. And he extracted an iodine bottle, “Here, drink…”

She took a few sips, relishing in the life giving sensation. But she could feel in her bones that a few sips wasn’t enough. She still felt tired.

“Doctor, I want to go out.”

He looked at her with a perceptive gaze, “We were just out.”

“Yeah, out with the Slitheen and I got this,” she pointed at her arm. “I want to go somewhere touristy.” She watched him gauge how sick she was before she continued, “I know finding out what I am has changed a few things. I do. But I don’t want it to change everything!”

The Doctor folded his arms, giving her his full attention.

“I’m grateful that I’m able to learn about my heritage and my culture. But being on this TARDIS – being with you – we’re adventurers and companions! I don’t want that to change. I think we’ve gone a bit overboard on the history lessons.”

He jutted his jaw, nodding, “I – I didn’t realize I had overwhelmed you.”

She gave him a shy look, “I can’t imagine what it must feel like. To know you’re not the last one anymore.”

The Doctor swallowed hard, tilting his head to the side in an adorable fashion.

“I don’t blame you, is what I’m saying.”

He sighed, his gaze smoldering, “We can’t do anything strenuous.”

“Do tourists tend to do strenuous things?”

“When you go to my favorite touristy spots.”

“Well, then pick a place that’s your definition of boring,” she said, sliding off the bed. “And we’ll have a relaxing day – just the two of us.” She was sure he’d like the sound of that.

And from the burning gaze and crooked smile, she was indeed correct.

“My dear, (Y/N),” he stood before her, grazing his fingers along her hairline and pushing strands away. “We will do whatever you want.” He let his hand stay on her cheek, using the pad of his thumb to lightly trace her cheekbone. “As long as it’s with me.”

She smiled though her breath stuck in her throat. There he was looking at her again with that look. It sent shivers down her arms.

She hadn’t felt something like that in a very very long time. She had to take a step back and out of his grasp just to form words in her mouth, “Well, let’s go then.”

(Y/N) adored the Doctor. From the first few adventures she knew she did. And with that came a few suppressed feelings. It helped her realize she wasn’t in love with Andrew anymore. It also helped her realize that the Doctor couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself fall.

If he were to fall for a human, it would be disastrous for his heart. It was bad enough with the many friends and companions he’d lost. So (Y/N) shut that part out, she tried to only feel companionship. And sometimes she thought – maybe – maybe he was suppressing something too.

But even if he did, he wouldn’t act on it.

Now if he were to fall for another Time Lord…

(Y/N) was sure that was why he was looking at her with those smoldering eyes. She hadn’t recognized them because he hadn’t allowed himself before.

But she wanted to be positive – absolutely positive – that the Doctor was falling for her for more than the fact she was of the same species. She needed to know if he cared about her in that way before the news.

And as they landed and walked into a city wide marketplace, she thought of ways to bring it up.

The Doctor smoothly intertwined their fingers together, swinging them between their walking figures. And he had no intentions on letting go anytime soon.

They meandered the alien stalls, taking in all the foreign things they were selling. The pair of them laughed at bobbles and knickknacks, the Doctor deciding on a present for the TARDIS. (Y/N) shopped for something to give the Sisters of Plentitude for all their help.

The Doctor marveled at her kind heart, saying the order was a charity and they wouldn’t accept gifts. She insisted they’d enjoy some flowers.

He nudged her shoulder with his and they ran for the street of caterers and food stalls. They nibbled on alien sandwiches and tested a strain of space milk. (Y/N) even got the Doctor to try some frothy drink and made him laugh so hard it came shooting out of his nose.

They chose a lunch and sat under a crowd of tables and umbrellas. They talked about each of the species they could see bargaining and shopping for themselves. The Doctor spilled galaxy ketchup on his coat and (Y/N) leaned over to clean it off.

And the Doctor stared flirtatiously.

They put their plates in an incinerator and (Y/N) gave their leftovers to some homeless on the corner. They gifted her with shiny stones, and she pocketed them with thanks.

And the Doctor stared adoringly.

They wandered the next street with fabrics and silks. Each vendor pulled on (Y/N), asking her to try on headdresses and scarves. She obliged the first few times, becoming bedecked with jewels and robes and wonderous hats that fell past her ears. She giggled and tried to peek at the Doctor from beneath the layers.

And the Doctor stared longingly.

(Y/N) was finding herself more and more flustered the longer they were out. They walked, hand in hand, trying to find the most ridiculous looking objects. The Doctor kept lowering his head to whisper in her ear – and it was doing startling things to her stomach.

They happened upon a bench where they took a rest, the Doctor insisting that (Y/N)’s raised breathing rate was because she needed more tonic.

And across the way she noticed a couple and their two children. A husband, kissing his wife’s cheek and tickling her nose. He put a flower in her hair and held her hand to his chest. She stared at him as if he were the only thing in the universe that mattered. The children held onto their mother’s hand and stood on their father’s toes.

The sight made (Y/N) smile and dreamily she sighed. Something the Doctor noticed immediately.

“What you stalking that family for?”

She scoffed and playfully nudged his arm, “No, I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” He looked at her fidgeting fingers and waited.

“I’d like to be married one day. Just like that.”

The Doctor held back a smile, “And the children?”

“I’d like some of those too,” she said airily, “I did become a schoolteacher for a reason.” She was still looking towards the family, oblivious to how he was looking at her.

“I think about those things too.”

She snapped her head to him, “Really?”

He nodded slowly, shrugging his shoulders, “Believe it or not, I don’t want to be a foxy bachelor all my life.”

There was a pause when she gave him a disbelieving smile, “But your adventures and the danger and the running around the universe. It all makes having a family seem out of the ordinary for you.”

The Doctor turned his warm brown eyes to hers, lightly taking her hand in both of his. He then looked down at their hands and mumbled, “I’m capable of being domestic.” He traced his finger around each of her knuckles, “Everything you see there – I’m capable of that too.”

(Y/N) suddenly wished they could sit like that forever.

The Doctor continued, “If that’s what you want.” He returned his gaze to hers and they were molten. His eyes were wide, innocent, questioning.

She had to control her breathing, “But – but what about what you want?”

His eyes were still wide and imploring, but he raised her hand and kissed the knuckles he’d been tracing. “I want what you want.”

“I wouldn’t want you to change for me.”

“I would do anything for you, (Y/N).”

It was a good thing she had discovered her second heart because her first one just gave out.

He seemed to relish in the effect he was having on her. From beside their bench, the Doctor plucked a few wildflowers, purple and blue and grey. He offered them with a pleasant smile on his face.

“For you.”

She lightly took them, their fingers burning where they touched. “Doctor…” she hesitated.

“(Y/N)…” he looked at her with those smoldering coals. “I – I know I haven’t made myself perfectly clear.” There was a new waver in his voice, and it put a stutter in (Y/N)’s still functioning heart. “But I… I would like you to know…”

“YOU THERE!”

The pair of them whipped their heads towards the addressee. A bangled woman draped in crochet and beads. “It would be an honor to read your palms. Please, join me for some good fortunes.”

The Doctor audibly let out a breath, his chest deflating as the moment left them. (Y/N) gave him a knowing smile, biting her lip at the defeated look on his face.

“I’m not one for fortunes, thank you,” the Doctor said, his expression frustrated.

(Y/N) held in a laugh, “I wouldn’t mind a go.”

The teller waved her many ringed fingers towards her, “Marvelous – if you would follow me to the tent.”

(Y/N) stood, holding her hand out for the Doctor, “Oh, don’t give me that.” He pouted further, “It’s some harmless cards and tricks. We are having a day out – and besides…” She bit her bottom lip, “Are you really going to sit here and let me go in alone?”

The Doctor jumped up, “I’ve always enjoyed pointing out a sham.”

“Don’t spoil the fun.”

“What’d ya mean? That is the fun.”

She squeezed his hand, still holding the flowers, “You know being clever all the time isn’t always sexy.”

“You think it’s sexy?”

“Not all the time.” She laughed, pulling him into the tent.

The Doctor laughed too, deep and playful in his throat.

It was stuffy with heavy perfumes beneath the curtains. It was dark except for a few candles and fairy lights. (Y/N) held onto the Doctor’s arm, snickering at the ambiance.

“Take a seat,” the fortune teller said, “And I shall foretell the future.”

The Doctor was all skepticism and vague amusement, but (Y/N) sat on the edge of her seat, eyes wide in the dark. She held out her hand eagerly, enjoying the fun of it all.

“Your hand,” the woman said, stroking a finger, “Is most peculiar.”

“Ooo…” (Y/N) hummed, leaning into the Doctor.

“Your lifeline is unusually short.” There was silence in the tent, “It’s broken and faded. I don’t like the look of that at all.”  

(Y/N) gave an uneasy laugh, “Yes, well – that could mean a lot of things.”

“Have you ever considered a blood transfusion?”

“What?” It was the Doctor’s turn to be on the edge of his seat.

The fortune teller gazed at him thoughtfully, holding (Y/N)’s hand tighter, “Have you always worn a tie?” When the Doctor remained quiet, she continued, “I would start thinking about bowties instead.”

“What do you know about blood transfusions?” he demanded.

The woman smiled and a few of her teeth gleamed gold. “You hope to stop the spread, but it will not work.” She grasped (Y/N)’s arm, drawing her close, “You, my dying girl, are meant to break and fade until you are nothing but dead. Like the rest of your people, you are meant to burn and turn to ash… you… the lost Time Lady.”

The Doctor stood, “Enough!”

“But don’t you feel it?” the woman continued, “The cold; the death rattling?”

(Y/N) took a shaky breath, and it came out in a gust of ice. The Doctor had a hand on her shoulder, “Come on.” He drew his sonic screwdriver and made the lights shine brighter, only to have them flicker and die.

“The Reapers?”

A scythe shone in the dark and (Y/N) felt the Doctor yank her outside. “We’ve got to hide.” The marketplace was crowded and stuffed with trinkets and laughter. It sounded strange at such a moment of panic.

Though the Reapers couldn’t stand the daylight out in the open, the fortune teller came from her tent and peered for her targets. Beneath her many layers of shawls and scarves came a weapon of alien technology.

“Big gun Doctor – very big gun!”

He ground out a sigh and pulled her along in the crowd. The sudden shift in pace had an instantaneous effect on (Y/N). She knew, earlier that day, she knew; she hadn’t taken enough tonic to be all right.

They needed to get to the TARDIS quick.

The Doctor wasn’t afraid to shove people out of the way. “Don’t look back, (Y/N). We aren’t that far.”

“Doctor,” she wheezed, her grip slackening in his, “I – I can’t run like this.”

He gripped at her hand, trying to keep her close, “You can do it, (Y/N) – come on.”

A purple blast exploded the stall next to them and (Y/N) was torn from the Doctor’s grasp. He rolled across the ground, falling into a different vendor with a crash. (Y/N) coughed, her lungs itching and burning.

That fortune teller woman came from the shadows, weapon aimed for the Doctor. And (Y/N) crawled on the ground, unable to do much more than hack up her lungs. She looked towards the Doctor and saw, remarkably, one of her tonic bottles laying on the dirt floor. It must have fallen out of the Doctor’s pocket when he tumbled.

“Hello, old man,” the woman called, “Man of regrets – man of sneakers and tweed and ties and fezzes.”

“What is this fixation on his outfits?” (Y/N) called, running and tackling the fortune teller, “A fez? Really?” She wrestled the woman down, overpowering the weapon out of her hands.

“Oi!” The Doctor stood from the collapsed and burning stall, “What did you do?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “Saved your life. Have you got a problem with that!” She aimed the weapon at the fortune teller’s tent, hoping that there were still a few Reapers in there waiting in the dark. And in a monstrous blow, the canvased stall exploded into purple flame and smoke.

“Here, happy Hanukkah,” and (Y/N) tossed the gun towards the homeless she’d given food to earlier. She grappled for the Doctor’s hand, “Allons-y!”

“That’s my line you little thief.” They ran off for the TARDIS, (Y/N) no longer wheezing from the effort.

“I didn’t steal anything; the bottle just fell out of your pocket.”

“We were supposed to make that last, (Y/N)!” The Doctor snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened. They slammed into the railing within, the Doctor moving to get the ship into orbit.

(Y/N) sighed dramatically, “You’re welcome!”

“No, (Y/N) – you don’t get it,” he pulled a lever and twirled a knob, “I need you to care that you’re this much closer to death. You only have two bottles left and who knows how quickly those will go.”

He practically jumped the railing to get to her, “I need you to stay safe and protected and near me. You don’t understand – how could you – I never told you. You are the single most important thing in this universe.”

“I’m not…”

“TO ME! To me you are the single most important thing. Before, long before we solved your little mystery, I knew you were special. You were going to be problem for me. You kept me company, but you also opened me up and became my first companion to ever really know me. You made it impossible not to love you!”

(Y/N) stuttered, her mouth slightly agape.

“And I was selfish, terribly selfish – I wanted you all to myself. I was selfish, but I had manners. You had a fiancé, and I couldn’t… not with a human… I’ve tried before and it always falls apart. I couldn’t have it fall apart with you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

He walked towards her, hands holding onto her shoulders, “I thought if I could have you as a companion it would be enough. Enough. But it wasn’t. Just being near you… oh, (Y/N) – do you have any idea? Any idea at all?”

Her eyes were wide and watering. The desperation in the Doctor’s face was striking, it was painful. His breath came out fast, brows furrowed and searching. He was trying to make her see, and when she barely shook her head, he lessened his grip on her shoulders.

His brows slanted in pain and those wide innocent eyes came out. He raised his hands to her face, holding her gently, “Then let me show you.” And he drew her close, brushing noses with her.

His breath was quick on her lips, tilting and hovering – waiting. His questioning, innocent eyes watched her expression, giving her the chance to pull away. In response, (Y/N) trailed her fingers down his sides, to his belt, and drew him closer.

He no longer looked so scared. And when her eyes fluttered closed, he met her lips with a sear of fire. He held her face to him fierce, kissing her deeply. It was all consuming, desperate, full of glee and longing. He leaned into her until they were backing up and into the wall of the ship.

(Y/N) barely noticed as she wound her fingers up and into his hair – something she’d been dying to do for ages. He growled deep in his throat, her fingers tugging at the base of his neck.

It was fire and she was burning. Burning up from the heat of it all.

He held the back of her head, pressing her against the wall. And the sigh that came from her made him smile into the kiss.

And when they pulled away it was all smiles and tight embraces. (Y/N) held in a laugh, leaning to bite his bottom lip teasingly. The Doctor growled again, kissing her once, twice, thrice more. Her lips, her cheek, her neck.

He was intoxicating – having him so near that his hair tickled her nose – it was simply intoxicating. He nuzzled her shoulder where he stopped his kisses. Then he was embracing her, holding her so close.

“I think I’ve got the idea now,” she whispered. And the Doctor laughed into her neck. “I noticed after I was named a Time Lord… you were acting different.”

He pulled back, looking into her face with slight confusion, but he couldn’t wipe off the lovestruck smile.

“You – you’ve been more affectionate than I’ve ever seen you.” He stroked a finger from her temple down to her chin. “I was afraid it was only because I was a Time Lady.”

He smirked, “No. It was long before that. I would’ve asked you to travel with me forever, alien or not.”

She smiled warmly, but it was her turn to have her brows slant in pain. “That’s just it though. If we want forever… I’ve got to be more careful. I’ve got to make the tonic last and I won’t be able to do that running around and blasting marketplaces.”

“Since when have you started listening to me?”

“Since you started kissing me you daft mickey,” she giggled, pushing against him, but she fisted his jacket. “And life on the TARDIS isn’t exactly restful. I can’t keep up; I’ll just slow you down.”

The Doctor gazed at her thoughtfully. He didn’t want it to be true, but she was clever. She always had been.

“I want to go home. To keep me safe. To keep us safe.”

“You’re actually asking to be put on bedrest.” The humor was in his tone, but his eyes were upset, “How will you ever make it shut up in a house?”

She scrunched up her nose in thought and it made him laugh under his breath. “Just make sure those cats hurry it up. I want my Doctor back in time for Christmas.”

And the Doctor took her home. He left her in her small flat with one iodine bottle. He would keep the other as a promise to come back.

He stole away a few more kisses, taking in as much of her as he could before departing.

“I’m going to come back to you.”

“You better, smart aleck,” she smiled, giving him a chaste kiss and backing away, “But not before helping a few planets first. I know you can’t help yourself.”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said, hands in his pockets, “I’d want to save all the best adventures for you.”

(Y/N)’s smile faltered, her arms hugging herself. “Find a companion while you’re out there, yeah? I don’t like the thought of you being on your own.”

He gawked, “And try to replace you?”

“I’m not just a companion anymore, am I?” she winked, “I’m permanent.”

“Irreplaceable.”

~~~

The TARDIS was at a standstill, everyone inside judging the condition with the Daleks. The Doctor, newly healed, bounced around, “We’ll have to go out. Because if we don’t, they’ll get in.”

“You told me nothing could get through those doors,” Rose said, suddenly frightened.

Jack interjected, “You’ve got extrapolator shielding.”

“Last time we fought the Daleks, they were scavengers and hybrids, and mad,” the Doctor said, “But this is a fully-fledged Dalek Empire, at the height of its power. Experts at fighting TARDIS’, they can do anything.”

“And we’ve got to get out of here,” Donna said, “Or else the Doctor is going to go mad himself.”

Rose looked confused, “Mad? Why would you go mad?”

“He’s got to get to his precious (Y/N),” Donna yawned, “Or the universe is going to implode or something.”

Jack snickered, “I think it was just his universe in question.”

“I’m sorry, who’s (Y/N)?” Rose asked, quite beside herself, “Another companion of yours?”

The Doctor kept a frown on his face, patting down the TARDIS door and thinking of a solution. Donna took the liberty to explain, “She’s his girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

Jack nudged Donna, “I’ve been betting he won’t last another day without seeing her.”

“Don’t be daft – he hasn’t shut up about her since we blew up Pompeii! I wouldn’t be surprised if he left us here and went after her.”

“Since when do you have a girlfriend?” Rose questioned again.

Jack continued, “I think he’s scared he won’t be able to walk away again, and that’s why he hasn’t seen her yet.”

“Mind you she’s just as taken with him,” Donna rolled her eyes, “Went over for tea and she only wanted to hear about him!”

“You went over for tea?” Jack looked offended, “I was told there were no visitors cause she was quarantined.”

“Yeah, well,” Donna poked his arm teasingly, “He’d tell that to you, wouldn’t he? Doesn’t want you stealing his girl.”

Jack scoffed, “Doc, you don’t honestly think I would do…”

“Shut it!” the Doctor yelled over his shoulder, “Stop discussing my love life.”

“Love life?” Rose whispered, looking stricken.

Donna leaned into Jack, “Someone’s on edge.”

“How much you wanna bet he’s gone ring shopping?”

“Oh, please, they haven’t been going out that long.” Donna suddenly looked serious, “Do you really think he’s considered it?”

“Only other Time Lord in the universe,” Jack shrugged, “I’d want to get her off the market quick.”

Rose approached the Doctor, “She’s a Time Lord?”

The Doctor slowly sunk his shoulders and reluctantly turned to look at her. The last human he had tried to fall for. The despair in her eyes was heart wrenching. But he could not deny that he’d moved on.

“I found her,” he said. “She’s the one.”

“The one!” Donna whisper shouted behind them, “There’s definitely a ring.”

“Definitely a ring,” Jack agreed.

Rose took a shaky breath. “Oh. I’m – I’m glad.”

“Rose…”

“Do you love her?”

The Doctor looked down at Rose for a long while before melting at the thought of (Y/N). He let his eyes burn and smolder, a comforting heat forming in his chest, “Yes. I love her more than anything.”

The reply made Rose nod solemnly, and Donna and Jack sighed mockingly.

“I love a good love story,” Donna teased.

Jack smiled brilliantly, “Who’s gonna be best man?” He held up his hands and gestured to himself, “Just saying… my calendar is wide open. As long as we can get past these Daleks.”

“Daleks, right!” the Doctor said, “Right now, that wooden door is just wood to them. We’ve got to make a decision quick.”

“Wait, Doctor,” Rose called out, tugging on his sleeve. “Have you told her? That you love her?”

“She knows.”

Rose shook her head, “No, but have you told her? She could know it, but hearing it is completely different.”

The Doctor peered at her for a few quiet seconds. He understood where she was coming from, what moment she was referring to. And she wasn’t wrong.

But at the moment, and for a couple weeks after that, the Doctor struggled with going back. He simply kept getting sidetracked, and after the business with Donna – it was difficult pulling himself out of his guilt and regret.

He met a Doctor with a hot air balloon. He got stuck on a bus crashed into the sand. He fought water monsters on mars.

He let himself go too far. He made mistakes.

And he knew he needed (Y/N). He needed her badly. But when rumor hit that The Master was being awakened. What was he to do? He couldn’t let that be on the backburner.

(Y/N) wouldn’t have wanted him to. But it still made his eyes sting to think of another day without seeing her.

~~~

She stirred her teacup, head wandering as she sang a tune that sounded an awful lot like Ood song. She had put the last of her tonic in the drink, taking small sips of it and barely feeling the effect on her.

Her skin was turning ashen grey like it had before the days of the tonic. Bruises appeared beneath her eyes and her joints ached with misuse.

She sat on the couch, a blanket keeping her warm. And thoughts of the Doctor swam into her head. Her favorite pastime.

Her brown eyed beauty.

She wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her was – Donna had visited forever ago. And Jack snuck round to tell her about the twenty-seven missing planets. She ate it all up, every ounce of Doctor stories she could get.

She could still feel him sitting beside her, staring at her with those burning eyes. Sometimes she worried she would forget what he looked like, what he sounded like, after a while. So she closed her eyes and envisioned his crazed hair that tickled her cheeks, the adorable pout of his lips whenever he stared off into space, his laugh lines that show just how much he smiled.

His striped suit with that brown coat and those converse sneakers. His blue tinted sonic screwdriver. His French words and “oh, my head!” She thought of his innumerable exclamations of brilliance – his “HA!” It made her smile to remember the way he said “hello!” He always said it with such an enthusiastic voice.

That’s when someone knocked on the door.

(Y/N) opened her tired eyes and managed to swallow the rest of her tea. It took effort to get off the couch, the loss of the blanket making her shiver. But she went for the door, opening it gingerly, and nearly fell over in shock.

There he was, standing there as if her imaginings of him called him over. She squealed, getting an instant head rush, but she jumped into his arms regardless. Wrapping her frailer arms around his neck, she kissed where she could reach: his cheek, his collar.

She felt him lift her slightly, moving them into the house and shutting the door. In the living room he properly hugged her back. Properly as in – hugging her for dear life.

The air left her lungs by how tightly he squeezed her, but she didn’t complain. His face buried itself into her neck and she took gulping breaths to take in his intoxicating presence.

“I missed you,” she whispered, eyes immediately tearing up, “I missed you so much.” She put a hand to the back of his head, holding him to her, “You were right. It’s terribly boring being stuck here. And I’m not sure how much… Doctor?”

That was the first time she noticed him shivering. His whole body was positively shaking. The tips of his fingers dug into her sides where he wrapped himself. It took a second longer to register that something wet was pressed against her neck.

“Doctor? What is it?” She cradled him further into her arms and heard him sniff, finally caught on to what he was whispering from the moment he started hugging her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Doctor?” she tried again, attempting to pull away to no avail. He only clung onto her tighter. “Doctor, I need you to look at me. You’re scaring me.”

He heaved a great sigh and eventually pulled back, still holding her in his arms. Her hearts cracked at the sight of him.

He had been crying, eyes red rimmed and shining. He looked exhausted, more tired than she had ever seen him. It was a similar look to when he realized she was a Time Lord, only this time he wasn’t smiling.

“What is it?” she asked again, using her hands to wipe his tears, only to have him nuzzle into her palm. He used a hand to keep hers to his cheek.

“I – I just missed you.”

She felt her chest concave. The Doctor, her Doctor, was hurting – and he wasn’t telling her why.

“What happened?” she said, “Did something happen on one of your adventures? Jack told me about Donna.”

He shook his head, taking her hand from his face and holding it close to his heart, “I’ve just been so excited to see you. I’ve – I’ve really needed to see you. I’ve really needed you, (Y/N).” His shoulders started shaking again, “I’ve made some mistakes.”

(Y/N) hushed him, wiping his tears again, straightening his tie just for something to do. “It’s all right. You’re here now, we’re together. And everything’s going to be all right.”

But the way he looked at her now. There was no smoldering – just anguish. He didn’t believe everything was going to be all right.

“I’ve got the last of your tonic,” he reached into his pocket and offered her the bottle, “You’re going to have to make that one last too.”

(Y/N) took the bottle, moving to put it on the countertop, “So no cure yet?”

He blew out his lips in a sigh, “No cure yet. I’m serious about making that tonic last – I’m not sure when the next time I’ll see you will be.”

She turned to look at his ruined figure. He was starting to look sicker than herself.

“Doctor, what is it you’re not telling me?”

He sniffed, staring at the floor where he could concentrate, “I’ve got to do something, just some errands. I’ve been checking up on everyone – Donna’s gotten married. And Martha and Mickey.”

“That’s wonderful,” she whispered, skeptical.

“And – the thing is… I might be a bit late.” He snuck a glance at her, and it was a big mistake. He felt himself falling apart all over again, “And I want to make sure while I still have these feelings, that I tell you…”

“Why would your feelings…”

“I love you.”

She paused, her own watery eyes overflowing.

“I love you.” He sighed in relief, getting that off his chest. “And I don’t want that to change. I don’t want to change.”

(Y/N) stared at him bewildered before walking to him and taking his face into her hands, “I love you too.” He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes and nodding, “So you can tell me. What’s going on? Why are you talking about change and things?”

He clenched his jaw, “Something I’ve got to do. And I wanted to look at you with these eyes one more time.”

“One more time?”

He tried to smile, “Before I get you cured.”

She shook her head, “You’re not making any sense, Doctor.”

“I know.” And he leaned over and gave her the sweetest, gentlest kiss, “I don’t want to go.” He bit his lip, but backed away, “I don’t want to go.”

(Y/N) watched him walk further away, “Then don’t.”

He winced in pain, and she made to run for him. But he held up a hand, “No, it’s all right. I’ve got to. And then I’ll be back. I promised to cure you, didn’t I?”

She swallowed hard, wringing her hands that itched to hold him again.

“Let’s just hope I remember.” And when he forced himself out the door and muttered, “I love you.” It sounded so much like a goodbye.

And (Y/N) sat on the couch and cried. She cried and waited for him. She prayed that he was okay and that whatever was hurting him would be resolved.

Days passed, then weeks passed, and then she couldn’t even remember how long it’d been. The tonic was long gone. And it was a regular occurrence to have blood seeping from her nose or bubbling in the back of her throat. She would sit with a napkin to her mouth as she tried to decipher the Doctor’s last parting, cryptic words.

She ached for him, yearned for him. But she quickly realized that the Doctor was important to the rest of the universe, not just hers. So she spent most of her time writing down the memories she’d made with him and reconciling within herself that he was doing the right thing.

Perhaps she should be upset with the Doctor, that he’d gotten sidetracked with doomed planets and desperate people. But that was one of the things she loved about him:

He couldn’t say no to someone asking for help.

The Doctor. Her Doctor.

How could she describe him now? The Doctor was fire. He was starlight. He was all that was good in the world. And all that was bad in it. He was full of rage and passion and curiosity. He was brilliant and kind.

He was wonderful.

The Doctor was the most wonderful man in the universe. And the terrible thing was that he probably will never fully believe it.

And as (Y/N) coughed and spluttered against her journal, deciding to rest on the floor facing the front door, she smiled.

She couldn’t help it when she thought of him.

She wrote about her classroom, about the noisy box, about the janitorial closet. She wrote about the stolen scrubs, the peppermint scans, and the moment he held her cheek as she woke up.

“Doctor, Doctor, Doctor…” she mumbled, her mind going. The pen went slack in her hand and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

But she continued to smile.

“Here I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing: dying.”

And she waited. She waited for her Doctor to come.

She waited. Feeling colder.

And she waited.

And waited.

~~~

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[nevertheless-moving]

Continued from here. You can read the origin of this branch of the au and a continued smattering of @dykerory‘s and @willowcrowned’s original ones under the corn boy anakin au 

The conversation between Batman and Anakin skywalker goes as well as can be expected. 

(l love that i just wrote that sentence wow crossovers are fun)

They’re very frank and depart on cordial terms

Anakin doesn’t try very hard to convince Batman, “yeah it is a crazy story, I don’t really have any proof that couldn’t have been fabricated at this point, I’m flattered that you think so highly of my intellect, sorry Clark roped you into this.”

and Batman doesn’t try very hard to convince Anakin “No you’re quite stable and I don’t want to mess with what you’ve got going on, I don’t have to show you the profiles I put together if you don’t want, sorry Clark keeps bringing this up.”

And Wayne Co. supports another one of the Shmi Foundation’s civil rights projects. They tell Clark that Batman put his best resources behind it but another universe is another universe, you know?

Clark doesn’t stop trying on their intersteller missions. Batman just sort of resigns himself to cringing internally whenever it’s brought up- he supposes legends have to come from somewhere.

A year later, 31 years after Anakin crashed in the Kent’s corn field, another spaceship crashes to Earth, appearing out of nowhere on Earth’s fledgling intersteller sensors. 

Due to high prevailing winds that day, it unfortunately does not land on the Kent Farm, but rather across the road. The property owners do the responsible thing and call the police about the UFO, who call the military about the spaceship with a little green man inside, who call the CIA, who are strong armed by the Department of Extranormal Operations, and manage to claim custody over the spaceship over Checkmate. 

Yoda is brought to DC Area 51, where scientists quickly realize he’s dying, well before they even get to start any experiments

Lot of frantic running around and yelling- they even try to ask the thing what he needs from them but he just says “The Force. Without the force, dying, I am” and no one has any idea what that means.

Batman get’s word of this like...oh fuuuuu and reluctantly sticks the Justice League’s hand in for custody of the extraterrestrial 

because if he doesn’t Superman’s going to tear down area 51 and he does not need that. 

There’s some precedent for this, but it’s not exactly a threat per se, so this is really overstepping some of the agreements they’ve made

J’onn and Kal-El have to make a bunch of rapid promises to sit down for interviews that they’ve been dodging with some important figures

Superman whooshes Yoda away to the new Justice League Facility in Upstate [Redacted]

Everyone with alien or magic expertise is called in to try and keep Anakin’s um...great-great-grandfather? did he say grandfather? alive 

Wait Anakin is Superman’s brother? I...what?

Anakin is deeply emotional at seeing the old troll again, and Yoda is just as thrilled to see the lost padawan alive and well. Even without the force, Anakin has the bearing of a Jedi Knight.

“He’s dying,” Anakin explains to the assembled magicians and scientists. “He’s 900 years old, the only reason he’s lived this long is because of his connection to the Force. Without it...”

Constantine: “You’re both talking this awfully calmly.”

(sidenote: by the time Anakin stumbled upon actual magic users who could actually teach him magic, he was settled enough in himself that it was the connection he missed, not the power. He tries a few spells, shows some basic aptitude but hates the feeling and doesn’t try again) 

Anakin, sadly: “Emotion, yet peace.”

Yoda, coughing: “Ignorance yet knowledge.” 

Together: “Passion yet Serenity; Chaos yet Harmony; Death yet...”

They trail off- Anakin looks devastated and Yoda’s ears droop

Anakin: “Grandmaster, I don’t know what happens to people in this universe when they die- every religion says something different!”

Superman (Christian): “Um.”

Batman (Atheist): ...

Zantana: “I’ve been to the underworld! It’s...not for everyone.”

Constantine: “Literally fucked Satan and I’m also unclear. Wait, does your universe have one set afterlife, like for certain? Nevermind, I’ll ask later, sorry.”

Yoda: “...That I will find my way to the force, hope i must have.”

Anakin: “Kal, I need you to get my lightsaber.”

Throwback to the Checkov’s Kyber earlier. Zantana overloads the crystal, it explodes and releases the remnants of force trapped inside. 

Clark and some of the League get to experience the Force for a minute

It’s very beautiful, ok? 

Anakin gathers and directs the explosion of force towards Yoda

And a tiny window opens up to what looks like the Council Room. 

Yoda thanks Anakin and then fades into thin air ok that’s a bit weird for everyone except Anakin who just pretends that he already knew that was going to happen because ‘joining the force’ was a thing that he did believe in he just had never seen it happen so literally

and obi-wan runs at the window desperately and it's too small for anyone to fit through anyway but mace and kit are holding obi-wan back because they just saw Yoda fade into oblivion while in the arms of a strange man but obi-wan's like ANAKIN ANAKIN THAT'S MY PADAWAN ANAKIN WHERE ARE YOU

Anakin jolts up desperately IT’S ALRIGHT OBI-WAN I’M-

and the window closes and the force fades and Anakin sort of sags in on himself

“I’m glad I got to show you what the force was like, Clark, even just for a moment”

“Me to Ani...I’m sorry...”

“It’s alright, I just...it’s fine.”

[lixhive]

terms & strawberries | trailer one!

pairing: kim taehyung x female!oc | au: fwb! college! genre: fluff, angst & suggestive?! | rating: nc17 | wc: 900+

synopsis: it was supposed to be a simple friends with benefits relationship but, when celeste starts one with taehyung there seems to be some terms and conditions they need to agree on.

warnings: cursing! swears! suggestive! author's note: this is a trailer to a new series i've been writing for a bit. this is a small trailer/teaser and i will post another trailer in the future. the official post date for the series will be around october!

bts mlist | old works | mega mlist

©lixhive: all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, edit, or repost my work.

“Why is your room so empty?” “I’m moving into one of the apartments close by. I’ve been packing.” Leste says as her robe slides off her shoulder. Too busy to notice, she feels a finger poke her back. “What was that for?” Hitting his hand away. “You have a tattoo?!” Shock wasn’t even the word to describe what Taehyung was feeling right now. “That’s why there was makeup on my coat.”

Feeling another poke, she hit his hand away. “You’re going to have to get used to my touch at some point, Princess.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Then stop poking me like I’m an experiment.” 

“Do you need anything else? I need to get ready and leave.” “Nope,” he smirks while taking a seat on the bed. Rolling her eyes, Celeste starts going through your dresser and takes out some clothes. Taehyung’s phone goes off and he answers. Based on the conversation, it was Jimin. “Hmm? No, I’m not too busy.” Taking the chance, you changed into a pair of jeans as Tae wasn’t looking. Or at least that’s what she thought. 

Pulling up the jeans, to hear a cough from behind. Looking back at him, Taehyung was definitely watching her. Still, on the phone, he was responding to Jimin but he was certainly distracted. “Mhmm, yup.” I’m already regretting this stupid contract. Taking off the robe, she threw it at him, covering his head. “I’ll call you back.” He hangs up the phone and pulls the robe off his head. 

“Don’t start getting shy now…” he teases. “Kiss. My. Ass.” “Say. Please.” A boxy smile appears on his face. She still has her pajama shirt on. “You’re so infuriating.” “And if I kiss you right now, will that statement stay the same?” Raising an eyebrow towards her, she feels her ears heat up. “Kim Taehyung, it hasn’t even been a day. Keep it in your pants.”

“I’ll try.” Celeste turns back around and looks for a top to put on. Even while she was looking, she could tell his eyes were still on her. She even hears his footsteps get closer. “I’ll get going then…” “Good riddance,” she sighs. “However, I do have a question.” At this point, Leste could feel him standing right behind her. “Is lace just your favorite fabric or…?” “Will it matter if you’re going to be taking it off of me?” Looking him in his eyes, she asks the question and gives him a little smile.

“You need to study. I remember being asked to help study,” she smirk. Celeste couldn’t help it though. Having some power over him made it funny. There’s a groan from him but he doesn’t expect a kiss from her. But when she does, he's more surprised that it happens. Her hands are in his hair, and her arms are wrapped around his neck. He’s just in awe. 

“Better?” Pulling away slightly, to look him in the eyes. Not surprised that it seems she's started something that can't be stopped, but she laughs at the fact that he’s speechless. He nods his head and stays completely quiet. Does he want another kiss? At this point, nothing productive would get done.

“Why are you laughing at me?” “No reason…” She kisses him again and the response is larger than last time. His chest is right against hers. His body is pressed up against hers and can clearly understand that there’s going to be no studying. Soon enough, Tae’s lips leave Leste's and start to make their way from her jaw to her collarbone.

"Taehyung…" "Mhmm," a hum comes from him, and he simply lifts her up. Truthfully Celeste didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did. His touch is soft but it’s firm. Softly, Taehyung sets her down on her back. His hands simply explored any exposed skin. “Was this your plan all along?” Leste asks in a hushed tone. His head comes up slowly. Lips slightly bruised from all the making out. Curled messy hair that she could run his hands through. Raising an eyebrow, “what plan?” He was still littering kisses on her tummy.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Tae pouts while snuggling more. For a moment, she stays quiet and a tiny sigh leaves her lips. Celeste stretches a bit and sits up. Just as she does, Yeontan wakes up and looks around. “You’re just like your owner, huh?” A yawn comes out of her but she quickly pushes it aside. 

“I liked it better when you were moody,” Celeste says quietly. “What was that, Princess?” A devilish smile appears on his face and now she's ready to mess with him. Silent, Celeste gets up from the couch and stretches a little. “Let’s go on a walk.” Hearing the word walk Yeontan goes running to Tae’s room to come back with his leash. 

Only in shorts and a shirt, Celeste doesn’t think anything of it. “It’s a bit chilly out now, here.” Taehyung throws a sweater toward her. As she fixes it, she takes a peek at Taehyung and realizes this was the sweater he was wearing. 

“What, no thank you?” He scoffs. And just to mess with him, she walks up to him. Without any hesitation, Leste cups his face and kisses him. Not giving him time to react, she pulls away and walks away as if she had never done anything. “Ready for the walk?”

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Friends with Benefits

Summary: You and Calum are friends with benefits, but what happens when one of you starts to want something more

Genre: Frat!Calum

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: ~900

“Same time tomorrow?” Calum asks as you clumsily climb out of his bed and search around the room for the panties you arrived in.

“Um,” As you reach under the bed, you feel the silk material in a crumbled heap. You pull it out only to realize that these are not the panties you wore here. In fact, they aren’t even yours. “I actually have plans.” You continued, throwing the panties away from you and wiping your hand on your still bare thigh.

“Plans?” Calum’s tone is doubtful, almost even mocking. But you’re too busy scowering the room for your panties to notice.

“Yep.” Deciding to abandon your search for your undergarments, you grab your pants off the foot of the bed and shimmy them on. “So, looks like you’re going old school tomorrow. Just you, yourself, and Miss Righty.” 

The way you grin to yourself as you pull your shirt over your head annoys him. He hates for any one, especially just some girl he hooks up with, to feel that they’ve got anything over him.

“Bold of you to assume you’re the only girl I call when I need to get off.” He pushes, raising an eyebrow at you. Uninterestedly you roll your eyes at him.

“Not only,” you smirk to yourself, “but best.” He’s trying to best you, but you’re not like all the other insecure girls he messes around with. You know what you’ve got, and you know what it’s worth.

“Again,” it was Calum’s turn to smirk at you. “Bold assumption”. Your only response it to roll your eyes as you bend over to pull on your shoes.

“I mean, for the past three weeks you’ve called me, what,” You turn your eyes towards the ceiling and scrunch your face pretending to think. For added measure you use one finger to solve an imaginary equation in the air. “Oh that’s right, every night.”

You won’t back down. But Calum won’t either.

“Yea, and who do you think I’ve called every morning?” Calum smirks triumphantly. You say nothing as you grab your purse and head for the door.

“Good, then call one of them.” You say it and mean it. Just like it was for Calum, to you this arrangement was simply a business transaction. A mutual exchange of sexual favors. Nothing more. 

“See ya.” You call over your shoulder as you finally walk out of the room. Leaving Calum naked and alone in his bed.

*****CALUM’S POV*****

Friday night. Exactly 22 hours since I last got off. I’m not OCD or anything. It’s just that over the years I’ve found that keeping a strict “booty-call” schedule made it easier to keep track of my endeavors. Not to mention it prevents the always awkward “two booty-calls running into each other” situation. If you’ve never experienced one chick leaving your room half naked, while another chick is walking in ready to smash, trust me – you don’t want to go there. However, it did make for some pretty hot hate-sex.

Not that the schedule really mattered much lately. There was really only one time to account for. (Y/N)’s time. Every night for the past couple weeks. 10 o’clock on the dot is her call time. Usually she won’t get here until about midnight, but that works out perfectly for me. The later it is the less likely she’ll be to try and hang out, or some shit, afterwards.

Throwing the weight of my body on the bed, I pull my phone out of my tight jean pocket and call her.

It’s not until she doesn’t answer that I remember about the bullshit “plans” she told me she had.  Whether they are real or not, they’ll just have to wait. Because right now, I need her. Well, my dick does anyway.

I call again. This time the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail.

She sent me to voicemail.

This is probably all just some elaborate scheme to make me think she actually has better things to do than fuck me.

Two can play at that game

I toss my phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the bed makes me stop in my tracks. I smile to myself and eagerly make a move for the phone.

Eagerly? Why are you eager?

I blame it on my being horny. I can’t help the way my face falls with disappointment when it’s my friends contact name on my screen instead of hers.

Disappointment?

I must be really, really, horny.

“What?” I bark annoyed. It’s not actually him I’m bothered by, but he’s the one who’s available.

“Dude, where are you?” he’s yelling into the phone, and I can hear loud music blaring in the background.

“My room?” I don’t know what he wants, but if he doesn’t tell me soon this conversation is going to end.

“Oh, I figured you were at that Phi Delta party?”

“Well, I just told you I’m in my room.” I snap. “Why the hell would I be at some frat party?”

I’m far from the type. All those preppy douchebags. Running around with their gelled-hair, short shorts, and flip flops. What real man wears flip-flops other than to the beach? And even that is pushing it.

“Yea but-” the sound of his voice pulls me back to reality from my internal rant. “Your little fuck-buddy’s here so I figured-”

“Who?” I interrupt.

“Uh, you know that one chick. The one you rated best rack!”

“(Y/N)?!” I don’t know why but knowing that she was ignoring my calls, while she was probably running around with some douchey frat guy irritated me.

“Yea! Yea dude her! She looks-” Before he can even finish his sentence, I hang up the phone and grab my keys. I don’t know why I going to the party or what I’ll do when I get there, but right now all I can think about is (Y/N) laying in bed with a douche in flip-flops.

As I finally pull up in front of the huge trashy house, none of the irritation has left my body. Taking long strides, I make my way in the house and navigate through all the drunk teens determined to find (Y/N). I do a quick scan of the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. With every room I check off the list, my fears of her being locked in one of those bedrooms upstairs with some guy grows.

Just as I’m about to storm up the stairs and kick in every door, I spot her walking through the front door, with a guy following close behind. The type of guy who looks like he wears flip flops. As I watch her grin from ear to ear, I can feel anger rumbling deep in my stomach. Suddenly the house feels hot. Too hot.

My eyes follow them into the kitchen. I count to 10, and I head towards the kitchen too.

“Wooow, hey.” I fake shocked to be running into (Y/N) here.

“Calum.” Her statement sounds more like a question as her eyes go wide.

“Plans huh?” My eyes shift to the tool standing too close to her. I mean come on its burning up in here. Definitely, too hot to be standing that close to someone.

“Yea. Uh Corey this is Calum, Calum this is my friend Corey.” Friend? Her friend Corey? And what I’m? Just Calum? What she should’ve said was ‘Douchebag this is the guy who fucks me better than anyone ever has be-‘

“Nice to meet you man.” Douchebag interrupts my perverse thoughts and reaches out to shake my hand. I don’t want to take it. Who knows where those fingers have been.

Hopefully not in her.

I choke on my own thoughts as my breathe gets caught in my throat. I burst into a fit of coughs and (Y/N) and Douchebag just stare at me like I just grew another head. Douchebag pushes his cup towards me and I take it. As I chug down the beer from his cup, I swear I can taste (Y/N)’s pussy on the rim.

His lips better have not gone anywhere near her.

I can’t stop the thoughts going through my head, or the places my fucked-up imagination keeps taking me, but I know it needs to stop.

I finish off Douchebag’s drink and hand the empty cup back to him. I can feel the alcohol immediately. My muscles ease ever so slightly and I’m starting to function like a normal human being again. I need to regain control of this situation.

“So,” I chose to not even address whatever the hell was going on with me a minute ago. “This is the hot date (Y/N) was all giddy about.” I challenge her.

“You told him this was a date?” Douchebag raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to (Y/N) who’s shooting me daggers with her eyes.

“Well I didn’t use those words exactly.” She says through gritted teeth.

“Damn this is embarrassing,” He continues. I smirk to myself and wait for the show to begin. “Because ... I’ve been telling everyone it was.”

Douche, and I can’t stress this enough, bag.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and scoff, which I play off as another cough.

“You Calum, should take care of that cough, and you Corey, follow me to the beer pong table.” I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him back towards the living room.

I decide to stay in the kitchen and continue adding alcohol to my system. The liquor burns my throat but for the time being it stops the weird thoughts in my head and helps me think more clearly. I mean obviously I’m not jealous or anything because, why the hell would I be. He’s a douche yea, but not because he’s here with the chick I occasionally fuck. And obviously I’m not irritated with her just because she’s here with a douche. It’s just that I needed to get my dick wet and she ignored my call to be here with said douche. Like he’s somehow more important than me getting off.

I stumble back into the living room and find a spot on the couch. Of course from where I’m sitting I have the perfect view of the beer pong table, and therefore the perfect view and Miss Thing and her new boy toy.

I sit watching them as I down beer after beer. My eyes follow (Y/N) intently as she finally walks away from the table towards the kitchen again. Without thinking, my feet are carrying me to the kitchen right behind her.

“Are you like stalking me now Calum?” she spins on her heels noticing me trailing her.

“Fiesty.” I wink at her. She just rolls her eyes and continues over towards the punch bowl to refill her cup. “I just wanted to tell you how good you look tonight.” I lick my lips while allowing my eyes to rake up and down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts.

“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head. She knows this is a game, and she’s fighting hard not to lose.

“Damn,” I place one hand on her neck tilting her head to the side. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.” I make a move to attach my lips to her neck and she lets me. And I know I’ve won. I suck at the sensitive skin and try to push my body closer to hers. “Let me take you upstairs.” I whisper into her neck.

“See I would,” she speaks but doesn’t move away from me. “But, I have a hot date to get back to.” She finally pulls away from me. “I’m just so giddy about it.” She’s mocking me. She smirks as she brushes past me leaving me and my bulge alone in the kitchen.

One hour, and too many shots later I’m still here. At this stupid frat house with these stupid people. I could’ve just gone home, but something keeps me here. I think it’s my obsession with beating (Y/N). Finally proving to her that she should’ve been in my bed with me tonight. Not here with what’s his face. When the first bit of alcohol entered my system, it helped keep my thoughts from running wild. Now that it’s pulsing through my veins as thick as my blood, the thoughts have returned.

I sit on the stairs, watching as (Y/N) grinds her perfect ass against Corbin, or whatever the hell his name was. It makes me sick. He slides his hands down her hips. He could never navigate her body as well as I do – even if she drew him a map. I’m the one that knows all the right places to touch her. I’m the one who knows all the right buttons to push. My name is the name she calls out while I pound into her.

The alcohol is mixing with my lust and my anger and it’s pushing me.

Douchebag spins (Y/N) around and wraps his hands in her hair.

The way that I do.

He tries to lean in and kiss her, but just before his lips meet hers, I’m pushing him off of her. My mind is confused but my fist are determined. I tackle him to the ground and start beating the shit out of him.

“Calum! CALUM GET OFF OF HIM!” (Y/N)’s voice pulls me off of him when no one else has been able to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I don’t know how to answer her, because truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I stand there glancing around at all the faces of the small crowd that had formed around us.

“He-You-” I was struggling to find a way to blame them for this. She stands there impatiently waiting for me to speak. Her angered expressions triggers something in me. She thinks she can stand here and face off against me. What does she think? She can intimidate me or something?

“You’re the one who should’ve answered my call!” I bite back at her. “Then I wouldn’t have had to come to this stupid ass party in the first place!”

“Calum get over yourself!” Why can’t she just let me win. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? My body burns with rage and the faces of all these staring people aren’t making things any better.

“What the hell are you all looking at?!” I yell at the nosy ass bystanders. I probably look like a mad man. Wild hair, sweating, with knuckles busted and bleeding. I look scary enough for the crowd to scurry away in all directions turning their attention to something else.

(Y/N), along with the crowd, turns her back on me.

“Don’t,” I grab her arm and spin her back around to face me. “Turn your back on me!”

“Fuck! Off!” She emphasizes each word never letting any of the anger simmer. She jerks her arm away from me and turns her back on me again. I want to say whatever I need to to keep her from walking away from me. And of all the things I could, and probably should say, the best I can do is:

“That guy isn’t right for you!” The words taste foreign on my lips. I’ve never been one to look of for what was “right” for someone. Especially not some girl. The second the words leave my mouth I want to shove them back down my throat.

Now she’ll think she got me.

Now she’ll think she’s won.

“Right for me? Christ Calum it’s a date, not a fucking proposal!” She’s pissed, but at least she stayed. (Y/N) marches up to get in my face. She’s not done with me yet. “And what the hell do you know about right for me?! We fuck on occasion but that doesn’t mean you KNOW ME!”

She turns around and storms off. This time I let her go.

As I watch her walk away from me, I get this feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sinking feeling.

Don’t leave me.

The thought scares me. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, nor did I ever want to want someone to stay. But as the possibility of her staying faded -- leaving me alone -- I realized how desperately I wanted it. How desperately I needed it. Needed her.

This wasn’t a game. It never was. But as she turned her back on me, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just lost.

[heliopauseentertainments]

I can’t think of anything specific but I am craving fluff featuring the OT3 UltraMegaRod if you feel up to it 👀💙

I don’t know that I came up with anything particularly fluffy, but here we go!

Under the cut for length, just shy of 900 words

Summary: It’s hard to plan a birthday present.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, nothing remotely explicit just implied

Rating: Teen

—

"Rodimus, he doesn't particularly care for surprises," Minimus said, having clambered up into chair at the desk normally meant for Ultra Magnus. Meanwhile, Rodimus doodled on the wall's built-in light-board with a pen under the heading "The Big Guy's Creation Day." It would be easier to participate in the planning if he could actually see the board without having to either stand on something or lean around a race-car. Several ideas—suggestions such as “candy” or “handcuffs” or “movie night”—were already scrawled across the surface, most already crossed out from before Minimus had arrived. “You ought to know that by now.”

"Are you kidding? This'll be great. He's gonna love it." Rodimus emphasized the point by hopping once in place, spoiler fins twitching up.

"I hardly think hiding under his desk and jumping out to startle him is an appropriate way to provide him a creation day present." It certainly wasn't a way to say "we love and cherish you." Not that Minimus was an expert in expressing that anyway.

"Okay, okay, maybe not. You'd think he'd be less jumpy at his age," Rodimus said, as though Minimus weren't even older than Megatron. It wasn't as though Rodimus was quite that young either, despite how he tended to act. Minimus crossed his arms as he sat down on the books piled into Ultra Magnus’ chair.

The speedster tapped his chin in thought, clearly trying to come up with something else. Minimus could only hope it would be something rather less likely to result in furniture getting broken in the chaos of a giant tank's exaggerated startle response or that wouldn't result in a call to the medical bay from said tank potentially experiencing sudden spark failure. Either could happen depending.

"What if,” Rodimus began, a wide, less-than-innocent grin stretching across his face, “we tied ribbons into cute little bows around ourselves and waited in the habsuite for him to come home from his command shift?"

Minimus was sorely tempted to tell the exuberant speedster to put that naughty smirk away, but he knew that would only encourage him.

"That seems unnecessarily risqué and, most importantly, doesn't include actually giving him the present." Besides, Minimus felt like perhaps that was not the best way to set the tone, at least not upfront. Rodimus pouted and crossed out some more… private suggestions that really shouldn't have been on the board in the first place, not as a gift anyway.

Minimus cleared his vocalizer with a cough.

"Furthermore, we haven't even gotten him anything yet. Did you even ask what he would want?" You know, like a thoughtful person would have already done before trying to plan a surprise.

Rodimus pshawed and waved a dismissive hand at the smallest member of their relationship.

"Of course not. He'd just say something like 'don't get me anything' or 'it's not important.' So we'll just have to intuit what we wants." The red speedster paused, like he doubted himself. "Somehow. We'll figure it out. It's gotta be something flashy, you know?"

"Flashy" was a word that didn't really apply where their largest conjunx was concerned. "Opinionated" and "loud," though in a different way than Rodimus was, were better descriptors, but despite that Megatron tended towards subtlety in aesthetic taste. Well, minimalism and utilitarianism were more accurate. The only possessions he owned tended to be whatever Rodimus and Minimus had given him over the years, with the exception of his surgical kit. That made selecting an appropriate gift all the more important.

"You gave him a rock last year." Minimus tutted, waving an admonishing finger. Never mind the fact that the rock now lived on Megatron’s desk in the captain’s office as a paperweight. It was a rock and Minimus felt certain the only reason it remained was because Megatron didn’t want to hurt Rodimus’ feelings by being rid of it.

"Yeah, but it was shiny and cool—"

"—And the year before that was the Rodimus Star for 'not putting Whirl in the brig'."

Which was ridiculous.

Megatron should have just done it. Whirl had been playing tag in the hallways with Misfire and getting too carried away with the foam-dart guns. A brief stay in the brig was the most appropriate response but Megatron had overruled Minimus in the guise of Ultra Magnus while in the middle of making the arrest.

"That wasn't his creation day present. That was just convenient timing. I gave him his actual present later." Which Minimus had the misfortune of walking in on after work.

Rodimus stopped doodling and pointed the writing utensil in his hand the green minibot.

"And last year you got a new light-pen." He mockingly waggled the pen pinched between his fingers.

"He goes through so many, Rodimus! It was practical." All that writing Megatron did in his spare time, it was a thoughtful gift to get him something he would actually need and use. “It was an exceptionally sturdy one.” Because someone was a heavy-handed writer.

Still, this discussion and planning session was getting them absolutely nowhere.

"Why don't we simply ask him what he wants and just do that? We can't go wrong that way."

"Fine, you ask him what boring thing he thinks he wants and I'll surprise him with something awesome."

How many ways could that plan go wrong?