#hopefully not pulling the wrong lever again lol

[six-demon-bag]

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Prompt: Skizz discovers Impulse is a traitor early?

well hello there :D hope this is as good as whatever you had in mind! cuz i dont think i got exactly that lol

...

You whisper to impulseSV: We need to talk. ASAP.

Skizz paces back and forth in his room, anxiously waiting for a response. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw yet; even though he knows he probably should, he just doesn’t want to face it. Something inside him is telling him it’s not true, that there has to be a reasonable explanation. He can’t spread this information before he finds out whether or not it’s true.

impulseSV whispers to you: okay, meet me at my villager hole

Skizz jumps into action and rushes out of the building. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, which might be a big mistake.

He runs all the way to Impulse’s villager hole and bursts in through the non-trapped door. But Impulse is nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Skizz spots a trapdoor with a ladder visible under it that wasn’t there before. He carefully climbs down the ladder and finds himself in an almost pitch black underground room, about the same size as the interior of Dogwarts.

Skizz walks out into the middle of the room, looking around in awe.

“Skizz,” comes Impulse’s voice.

“Gah!” Skizz nearly jumps out of his skin. “Don’t do that! Where are you?”

Impulse materialises out of the darkness. “Hey. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I did. I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Skizz takes a deep breath. “I, uh… I saw you earlier today, meeting with the crastle people. I didn’t hear much of what you said, just something about “gaining their trust”. That… Impulse, you’re on our side, right? You’re just pretending to be friends with them?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” replies Impulse easily. Too easily.

Skizz frowns. “Impulse, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not betraying us for THEM.”

“I’m not betraying anyone,” says Impulse defensively. “You know me; I’m not capable of that. You… do know that, right?”

“I…” Skizz stares at his best friend. “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. But now… I think you’re capable of anything. Tell me the truth, Impulse. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“You’re doing it again! Switching on the ol’ Impulse charm and saying exactly what the other person wants to hear. You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy. I’ve known you far too long.” Skizz narrows his eyes. “You’re a mole. You pretended to join us but you’re on their side and you’re gonna betray us for them. Am I wrong?”

After a moment, Impulse wordlessly turns away, all but confirming Skizz’s suspicions.

Skizz’s stomach drops. “Oh, god… I trusted you! You- You traitor!”

Impulse sighs. “This is just like you, Skizz: running over here to confront me alone cuz you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom that you might’ve been wrong about me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this world changes people? That you can’t truly trust anyone but yourself?”

“No!” Skizz snaps. “I trust Ren and I trust Martyn and Etho and I DID trust YOU!”

“And that’s gonna be your downfall.”

He suddenly shoves Skizz to the ground. Before his friend can react, Impulse brings his foot down hard on Skizz’s ankle.

Skizz screams as they both hear it crack. The pain is immense; it’s definitely fractured, if not broken completely.

“See the thing is, I can’t have you running around blabbing about this to anyone,” Impulse says casually. “But at the same time, I can’t just kill you because that would show up in chat. So I think it’s time I test out my brand new trap and see how deadly it is.”

Tears of pain and anger fall from Skizz’s eyes as he stares into the cold, harsh eyes of the man he used to call his brother. “Wh-Why, Impulse…? Why would you d-do this to me…?”

Impulse just shrugs. “I’m just playing the game, Skizz. Sorry.”

With that, he turns and walks away into the darkness.

“Impulse!” cries Skizz, his vision completely obscured by tears. “IMPULSE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

He hears the click of a lever being pulled in the darkness, followed immediately by pistons moving. His breathing quickening, he rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, but as soon as he puts weight on his left ankle, he knows he’s not going to be able to use it.

A familiar growl pierces the air, causing him to freeze.

A zombie.

More growls.

A LOT of zombies.

The first one that appears through the darkness nearly gives him a heart attack. He manages to slice it down with his sword, but by then, three more have ganged up on him. Trying to back away, he finds himself completely surrounded by a horde of at least two dozen zombies.

“NO!” he screams. “HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

The zombies’ claws dig into his skin, and at least two of them manage to bite his arms. Players are able to resist being turned into a zombie through a bite but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Accidentally putting weight on his injured ankle again, Skizz collapses to the ground and curls up in a ball, trying to protect his head and neck. Impulse was clever; he hurt Skizz’s ankle on purpose so he could neither run nor fight for long.

This is it for him. They’re going to kill him.

All of a sudden, a battle yell echoes in the darkness, followed immediately by the sound of zombies taking damage. Multiple zombies taking damage at once. Someone’s come to save him.

The zombies attacking Skizz move away to target this new threat, but they’re no match for whoever it is. Within a minute, all the zombies in the room have been eliminated.

“Skizz!” comes Etho’s voice. “Are you okay?!”

Severely weakened and on the verge of passing out from the pain, Skizz looks up at his friend, unable to muster the words to reply. His vision is swimming, but he can just about see two figures kneeling beside him.

Etho and Martyn. They came to save him.

That’s the last thought in his mind before he passes out.

…

“-is definitely broken. But not like he fell from somewhere and landed on it. More like someone stomped on it until it broke.”

“What?! Who would do something like that?!” “I don’t know. Hopefully Skizz can shed some light on this when he wakes up. Oh my goodness, Ren, you should have seen how many zombies there were. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“So… you’re saying someone tried to murder Skizzle? Broke his ankle so he couldn’t get away from the zombies?”

“Yeah, I think so. And we think it was Impulse, too. Etho and I didn’t see anyone else around except him, and the hole was under his villager place as well, so we- Oh, look! I think he’s awake!”

Skizz lets out a quiet groan, his eyes slowly opening. As his vision adjusts to the light, he registers Martyn and Ren by his side, and the interior of his bedroom back at Dogwarts behind them.

“Hey, Skizzles,” says Ren gently. “How are you feeling?”

Blinking slowly, Skizz looks down at his arms and finds them covered in bandages. Beyond them, he can see his ankle elevated in a cast. Nothing hurts anymore, to his relief.

“Alive,” he rasps. “For good or for bad.”

“What happened?” Martyn asks. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Skizz tries to suppress a sniffle at the traumatic memory. “It was Impulse. He’s a backstabbing traitor and he tried to kill me to stop me from telling you.”

Ren gasps, but Martyn just shakes his head, an anguished expression on his face. “I should’ve known. There were so many little clues but he explained them away so well, I just…”

“He had us all fooled,” Ren murmurs. “I’m just glad we managed to get to you before he got away with murdering you. If he had, we’d never have known, and we would’ve continued to trust him.”

“How- How did you find me?” Skizz asks. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Etho and I went looking for you cuz we hadn’t seen you in a while,” replies Martyn. “We just happened to be at Impulse’s villager pen when we heard you screaming. Luckily, Impulse had just left and I don’t think he heard you, or he might have tried to kill us too.”

His upper lip curls in an expression of disgust. “We bumped into him right there and it was like nothing was wrong. It makes me sick to think that he was up there chit-chatting to us about his villagers like everything was fine, knowing full well he’d literally just abandoned you to be murdered by a horde of zombies. That goes beyond 3rd Life; that’s… that’s just pure evil.”

Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, something’s not right with him anymore. Whoever that was… it’s not my Impulse. Something’s changed him.”

“Well, either way, at least you’re alive and his treachery has been exposed,” Ren says. “And we will take our revenge on him for trying to kill you. As soon as he’s red, we take him down.”

“Why wait?” asks Martyn, frowning. “Why not kill him now, while he’s on yellow?”

“Because if we do, he’ll harbour a grudge and try to take revenge on US for killing him once he’s red. And if yellow life Impulse is THAT dangerous, imagine what he can do on red. It’s better to wait and come up with a plan so when he becomes red, we can take him out immediately and prevent further carnage.”

A shiver runs down Skizz’s spine. It feels horrible to be discussing killing his best friend when they had been so close only hours before. Despite everything Impulse has done, he doesn’t actually want him to die. He still loves his brother, no matter what.

Even though he’d love nothing more than to punch him in his stupid face right now.

“Skizz?” says Martyn softly. “You okay?”

Skizz clears his throat. “Y-Yeah. I think I will be.”

Eventually.

[nehswritesstuffs]

Snowflakes and Souffles - A Clara’s Diner Discord Holiday Fanwork Event - Part 1 of 6

It’s time, everyone, for another holiday-themed fanwork event! With the year coming to an end, we’re going through different Christmas and [northern hemisphere] winter-themed prompts to hopefully satiate your need for all this cozy, warm, and Whouffle.

832 words; I actually managed to hit all three at once now watch me not do that again for the rest of the month lol; I’m really trying to do just loosey-goosey scenes this time around and not have anything giant like in Embrace the Raven, but we’ll see how that turns out; takes place mid-s9, probably, most likely, you know it does

Days 1-8: Baking | Decorating | Mistletoe

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The corridors of Coal Hill were quiet as the TARDIS wheezed into existence, materializing in the wall of a seldom-used cupboard. The Doctor opened it and poked his head out to see what was going on… if anything was any good.

So far? Nothing.

He strolled out of the cupboard and down the corridor to Miss Oswald’s room—again, nothing. Further investigating saw that there was no one in any of the rooms, which was rather concerning. It was Wednesday, after all, and Wednesdays were for adventures, but Wednesdays were also for all children attempting to not allow their brains to become pudding to be in school. Did he muddle things and end up landing in the middle of summer? No—the notes on her whiteboard still mentioned Jane Eyre and Jane Eyre was a winter book for the students, brains of pudding or not.

The Doctor popped back into the TARDIS and threw a couple levers before popping out again, barely breaking his stride. He was now in Clara’s flat, with warm, cozy scents filling his nose. There were boxes sitting haphazardly on her sofa and an explosion of garland and ornaments everywhere. Upon further investigation, he found Clara in her tiny kitchen, attempting to scrape some biscuits off a metal baking sheet while muttering sourly under her breath.

“One wrong word and I’m yeeting you out the window,” she warned as he stepped into the room.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he smirked.

“I live high enough to where by the time trudge yourself back up the stairs, you might finally be ginger,” she warned. He stood directly behind her and placed his chin on her head and his hands on his waist. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“How is this helping?”

“It’s helping me stay on the seventh floor, because you wouldn’t defenestrate yourself as well,” he reasoned. The woman in his arms grumbled and put down the biscuits and spatula, instead turning around to lean into him, pressing herself against his hole-pocked jumper.

“What a way to start the Christmas holiday,” she grumbled.

“So that’s why you aren't in Coal Hill,” he realized. “Here I went looking for you all around the school, only to find you battling some biscuits.”

“Holiday started today, so we go back on the fifth,” she claimed. She felt him reach around her and begin to tackle the project himself, chiseling off chunks of biscuit remnants in her stead. “I told you about it the other day.”

“I don’t remember.”

“It was during dinner.”

“…which dinner?”

“Mmmhmm.” She didn’t say anything else on the subject, instead choosing to close her eyes and rest against the Doctor’s chest. “You’re right—this is helping.”

“Told you,” he teased. Clara moved her hands quickly and went to tickle his sides, making him drop his project and recoil, stumbling backwards a couple steps. “No fair!”

“My flat; anything goes,” she smirked. Clara moved towards the door and pointed back towards the sink. “When you’re done with that, come into the sitting room and help me decorate—it’s my turn again to host this year and I need setup out of the way so that it’s not looming over me and ruining our night out.”

“Aren’t there more biscuits to make…?”

“Not unless you want to.”

She left him to his devices, hearing the sound of the spatula against the baking sheet as she turned on the radio and began to pull more garland out of a box. It wasn’t anything grand, decorating, but it was nostalgic and familiar, and she knew that just a bit every once in a while was part of what helped the adventures all remain exciting. Many of the decorations were reminders that things were steadily, dutifully marching on despite all that generally pertained to Wednesdays. Clara had just pulled her small artificial tree out of the box when the sight of the Doctor standing in the doorway to the kitchen—he was now wearing an apron and oven mitts while holding the biscuit tray out.

“I tried heating it up and it didn’t work,” he admitted. She could tell they weren’t burnt—she would have smelled if they were burnt—but saw that the bits were a bit darker than before.

“I thought this face was decent in the kitchen,” she claimed. He shrugged.

“It is, just…”

He was cut off by Clara placing her hands behind her back and slowly walking towards him. The Doctor tried to decipher her face, only for her to give his shoulders a tug down in order for her to land a quick kiss on his lips. She smiled at him, knowingly.

“At least you tried,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Could always be worse,” he claimed.

“Go soak that in the sink and maybe you can helping me tack all the high things up,” she gently ordered. “Come on—if you want more than that, the mistletoe won’t secure itself.”

As though he needed to be told twice.

[riversofmars]

OR Thirteen wants to marry River - her previous self did the marrying but thirteen wants to do it herself thd proper way so travels to ask the ponds permission for their daughters hand in marriage ❤️

Thank you for a brilliant prompt! It got a little out of hand but what else is new lol. River is finally getting the wedding she deserves. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Ship: River/Thirteen

Rating: G

Word count: 4500

The Wedding of River Song

“So where are we going?“ River followed the Doctor around the TARDIS console as she was setting coordinates.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.“ The Doctor grinned and pulled the lever to set them going.

“Well, will you at least tell me how to dress?“ River pouted crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her wife usually gave her some indication as to what sort of outfit would be suitable. Turning up to a safari in an evening gown was a mistake she intended to only make once. Today, for Valentine’s Day, however, the Doctor was being very secretive indeed.

“Don’t worry about that, got that covered as well…“ The Doctor winked and River sighed:

“Sweetie…“

“Just trust me, okay? It’s not quite time for our date yet. We need to make a quick couple of stops.“ The Doctor revealed as the TARDIS landed.

“It’s Valentine’s Day and you’re telling me you’ve got some other engagements before our date?“ River retorted trying her best not to show her annoyance too much.

“Yeah. Sort of.“ The Doctor scratched the back of her head, feeling a little nervous.

“Do you see how that doesn’t exactly thrill me?“ River raised her eyebrows with a sigh. The Doctor had never been particularly good at doing romance. She had gotten a little better since she had turned into a woman. She had, after all, made the effort to save River from the Library and reunite them in linear time but romance still wasn’t her strong suit.

“Well, yes but it’s not like you’ll be waiting in the TARDIS while I arrange things… plus, you’ll have company, don’t worry, you’ll have a good time!“ The Doctor grinned at her with excitement. She was bursting to tell her what she had planned but then, it wouldn’t be a surprise. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, she deserved something special and she was determined to give it to her. She was not about to ruined it when she had gone through so much effort to make today happen.

“Doctor…“ River groaned in annoyance, all she wanted to do was go for a candle light dinner. Was that really too much to ask?

“You trust me right.“ The Doctor stepped up to her wife and took her hands in hers.

“Unfortunately.“ River rolled her eyes.

“And you love me?“ The Doctor continued, her expression hopeful.

“I’m afraid so.“ River gave her a half-smile. She just couldn’t stay angry with her for long.

“Then do this for me, for Valantine’s, trust me that I’ve got something brilliant planned, just need to sort a few things out, okay?“ The Doctor smiled pressing a kiss to the top of her hands.

“You literally have a time machine, you could have sorted all of this out before now.“ River chuckled shaking her head at her. Why was she in love with such a chaotic idiot?

“Not really, it’s complicated, you’ll see. But there is something I need you to do as well, come on.“ The Doctor pulled her along to the door.

“You are making even less sense than usual, Sweetie.“ River huffed as she followed reluctantly. They stepped out of the TARDIS and found themselves in the front room of 13 Paternoster Row in 19th century London.

“Madame Vastra?“ River looked around confused as she spotted the mistress of the house head towards her with a smile. “Jenny?“ Vastra was accompanied by her wife and maid Jenny Flint who gave them a big smile as well. They had clearly been waiting for them.

“You’re a bit late, Doctor, we’ll have to rush to make the appointment.“ Vastra scolded but not unkindly.

“Sorry, it wasn’t easy to convince her.“ The Doctor smiled apologetically.

“Appointment. What…“ River looked from Vastra to the Doctor and back again. What was going on?

“Don’t worry, Professor, we will have a wonderful time, champagne?“ Vastra offered as Jenny went to the drinks cabinet and poured three glasses.

“Well, don’t mind if I do.“ River wasn’t one to refuse a glass of champagne but she was still confused as to what was going on. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?“ She asked as she took the glass offered to her.

“Absolutely not.“ The Doctor grinned. “I’ll see you shortly.“ She kissed her wife’s cheek and before River could argue she skipped back into the TARDIS and threw the door shut.

“I feel like I’m missing something.“ River shook her head a little to herself as she watched the TARDIS disappear.  

“Thus is the nature of surprises, Professor, but you will figure it out soon enough, I’m sure.“ Vastra smiled and took a sip of her champagne as well. “Strax, bring the carriage round, we must get going.“

——

“Is that…“ Amy stuck her head out of the kitchen. Was she imagining the wheezing and groaning noise that seemed to be coming from outside or could it be that finally, the Doctor was returning after faking his death? Rory had already walked up to the window and pushed the curtains outside to look out into the garden.

“I think it is!“ Rory looked around to her and a wide grin spread across Amy’s face.

“What are you waiting for?“ She pulled her shoes on quickly. “Come on!“ They rushed outside to find the TARDIS in their backyard.

“A whole year, Doctor…“ Amy called out when the door opened. “What…“ She lost her train of thought when she laid eyes on the blonde woman that stepped out of the blue box. Who was she? Had they been replaced?

“Ah yes, sorry, new face!“ The Doctor grinned when she realised why she was looking at her all confused. “Come here Amelia.“ Without waiting for a response she pulled Amy into a hug. “And Rory the Roman!“ She grabbed Rory by the jumper and pulled him in as well. The Ponds were too perplexed to protest.

“I… don’t understand.“ Amy looked the Doctor up and down when she pulled away. They had seen River regenerate so they knew it was very much possible, but this was a lot to take in.

“Yeah, sorry, this bit is going to be a bit complicated…“ The Doctor gave an awkward grin.

“River said you were alive, she didn’t mention you had… changed…“ Rory said trying his best to work through his shock.

“I haven’t yet, not for you, well technically… it’s complicated. You’ll see me again, the old me, about a year from now and you can’t tell him you’ve met me. Sorry. It’s just… in my time, where you are now, I can’t get to you, so I had to come to a time where I knew I wouldn’t run into myself and… I’m rambling, aren’t I, sorry, I… I’ve missed you both so much.“ The Doctor pulled them into another hug. She couldn’t put into words how much she had missed the two of them. Losing them in Manhattan had been one of the most painful experiences of her life. She knew she shouldn’t be going back in her timeline like this but she knew the Ponds wouldn’t be seeing her previous self for a while yet, the risk was relatively low. Also, there was no way she could do today without them.

“You really are… the Doctor?“ Amy grinned as the truth sank in.

“Yeah… very distant future but that doesn’t matter right now…“ The Doctor nodded.

“Have you finally, in the very distant future, realised it wasn’t very nice to keep us in the dark and waiting for so long? You better be taking us on an adventure, Doctor!“ Amy exclaimed having got over her shock. She gave her arm a playful slap.

“Yes, I am, sort of…“ The Doctor chuckled.

“Great! I’ll just grab our coats.“ Rory grinned making his way back to the house.

“But only if they’re fancy coats, you’re going to a wedding.“ The Doctor called out, stopping him in his tracks halfway down the garden path.

“Sorry, what?“ Amy didn’t know if she had heard her right and Rory came back.

“A wedding.“ The Doctor repeated. “My wedding, actually. To your daughter. She doesn’t know about it yet but… anyway, Mr Pond, how would you feel about me marrying your daughter? Again. Properly. I mean, that’s what you’re meant to do, right? According to Earth tradition, ask the father of the bride first?“ She grinned at Rory who looked back at her dumbfounded.

“I uh…“

“Okay, I’ll take that as a maybe… Amy?“ The Doctor looked to Amy hopefully who was as perplexed as her husband.

“Hang on… did you just say you want to marry River again?“ She asked, needing to confirm she was getting this right.

“Yes. Wasn’t exactly a dream wedding, was it, on top of that pyramid, in an aborted timeline and all that. River has never complained but… I did ask her a while back if she’d want to do it again, properly and she said yes, so… I mean, I didn’t exactly look my best on the day and look at me now.“ The Doctor grinned tossing her blonde hair in amusement.

“But you’re not wearing that, are you?“ Amy looked her up and down.

“What?“ The Doctor looked down herself.

“You look like you got that charming combo from a charity shop.“ Amy couldn’t help but point out.

“Well, I did.“ The Doctor retorted, she didn’t really see what was wrong with her outfit but she had anticipated this problem. “Well, I do have a suit in the TARDIS.“ She revealed. “You still haven’t said yes yet, either of you.“ She put her hands on her hips expectantly, looking back and for between her in-laws.

“Well, of course you can, you moron, let us get our Sunday best and let’s get going!“ A wide grin spread across Amy’s face. She was going to see her daughter get married!

——

“Where are we going?“ River looked out of the carriage window.

“To get you a dress of course.“ Jenny grinned with excitement.

“Well, I do have plenty of dresses, she needn’t have gone through all this trouble.“ River chuckled. “But I must admit, this is fun.“ It had been a long time since she had seen the Silurian detective and her wife, they were wonderful company.

“You haven’t got a dress like this.“ Vastra smirked and the carriage came to a halt.

“You haven’t seen the size of my wardrobe.“ River grinned but obliged and followed them out of the carriage. She nearly tripped over when her eyes fell on the shop they had stopped in front of.

“Is the penny dropping, Professor?“ Vastra laughed at the look on River’s face as they found themselves in front of a bridal store.

“You can’t be serious. She can’t be serious.“ River shook her head to herself, she couldn’t believe it. Her hearts jumped into her throat and she had to force herself to take a deep breath to calm herself. She hoped she wasn’t jumping to the wrong conclusions but how could she be?

“From what the Doctor said you have waited an awfully long time for this. Some things should be done the proper way.“ Vastra revealed confirming her assumptions. She took the professor’s hand to reassure her.

“Let’s get you a wedding dress.“ Jenny grinned and took her other hand as they walked her up to the door.

“I think I’d better, hadn’t I…“ River breathed, trying her best to keep her emotions in check.

——

“Alright, let’s get the flower arrangements done, come on people, chop chop!“ Nardole clapped his hands together.

“Who put him in charge?“ Heather mumbled and Bill laughed.

“I think it’s cause he used to work here once…“ She replied fastening the last garland of white flowers to the balustrade of the balcony.

“Just can’t get the staff these days.“ Nardole huffed carrying on with his mission to make sure everything was just right.

“Maybe that’s cause we’re not staff but the Doctor’s friends and guests?“ Clara offered ushering the next load of guests in. The guest list the Doctor had provided was quite the challenge to accomplish but what good was having a time ship if not to get your best friend’s friends together from all over time and space.

“You just see to it that you get everyone here on time.“ Nardole jabbed his finger at her making her laugh. Despite the stress of organising it all, there was a buzz of excitement in the air. Clara’s heart lifted for seeing so many familiar faces. She had seen so much of the Doctor’s past when she had been inside their time stream and she knew how important each and everyone of these people where to them.

“I think we’ve got everyone now.“ Me pointed out looking around. “A few more TARDISes wouldn’t have gone amiss though. Did we miss anyone?“ She looked to Clara who checked the guest list.

“No, I think now there is just one trip to Victorian London to do.“ She grinned. “Time to get changed!“

“This place is beautiful.“ Kate Stewart observed stepping onto the balcony accompanied by Osgood. Everyone was having a good look around before the ceremony started and the view from the balcony really was quite something.

“What is that music?“ Martha asked as she leaned onto the balustrade, marvelling at the twin towers in the distance. A mild breeze carried a melody with it leaving them in awe. The sun was just settling in the distance.

“Nobody really understands where the music comes from. It's probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between both towers. Even the locals aren't sure.“ Everybody looked around to see the Doctor stepping out of her TARDIS. She was wearing a black tuxedo and bow tie, her expression was one of unadulterated joy as she beamed at the sight of all her friends gathered.

“Doctor!“ Bill exclaimed in excitement.

“Wow, that’s not what I expected.“ Martha was dumbfounded. Clara had told them the Doctor had changed faces but that was quite the change indeed.

“Is the tux too much?“ The Doctor asked, feeling insecure for a moment at everyone’s gaping expressions.

“No, it’s just right.“ Amy reassured her as her and Rory urged her to keep going.

“Is everybody here?“ The Doctor asked slowly as she looked around. She felt a little overwhelmed seeing everyone. So many friends that she hadn’t seen in such a long time and yet they had all wanted to come. She couldn’t express how grateful she was to all of them.

“I think we’re just waiting for the bride now.“ Tasha Lem spoke up. “How about everybody has a seat?“ She gestured to the rows of chairs to either side of the aisle.

“I best be on my way then.“ Clara grinned. “You don’t mind if we take your TARDIS, do you? Less bulky than the diner.“

“Sure, yes of course.“ The Doctor nodded with a smile as the TARDIS hummed in agreement. She couldn’t very well deny the Old Girl when River was her child in a way, too. Slowly, the Doctor walked to the front as Clara disappeared with her TARDIS. Her nerves were catching up with her now as she found herself the centre of attention. Tasha gave her an encouraging smile as the Doctor came to a halt in front of her.

“Are you quite alright, Doctor.“ She asked tilting her head a little and the Doctor forced a smile. This was a whole lot more nerve wracking than she had imagined. It had all sounded like such a great idea at the time.

“You’re not nervous are you?“ Jack teased leaning forward in his chair.

“No. I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous. Not the first time I’m getting married, is it. This is perfectly fine, no big deal…“ The Doctor huffed trying to gather herself as she grasped her hands together in front of her to keep them still.

“Would you look at that, the Oncoming Storm, trembling in the evening breeze.“ Jack smirked.

“I’d like to see you do this.“ The Doctor shot him a glare.

“Maybe you will, one day.“ Jack laughed putting his arm around Ianto who was sitting next to him. “Or maybe you won’t, seeing as you didn’t pick me for best man…“ He feigned hurt. “Who is your best man anyway?“ He asked looking around. The Doctor was looking rather lonely standing at the front with just Tasha to officiate.

“Best lady, thank you very much.“ Missy walked along the side of the chairs towards the front checking her hair in a pocket mirror. Kate and Osgood exchanged concerned looks, Bill huffed:

“Who invited you?“

“Why, the Doctor of course.“ Missy smirked as she made her way to the front.

“Who’s that?“ Yaz asked leaning forward in her chair, sitting just behind Bill and Heather.

“That’s the Master, the Doctor’s oldest… I don’t even know what anymore…“ Bill replied. She couldn’t believe she was here and that the Doctor would actually have invited her.

“That’s not the Master…“ Graham looked on in confusion.

“Probably a younger version of the Master that you know.“ Kate explained and Ryan asked:

“What would make her invite her, she’s like her worst enemy.“

“Or oldest friend… It’s… complicated.“ Bill thought back to the time she had spent with the Doctor while he had tried to help Missy change. She couldn’t presume to understand the relationship between the Doctor and the Master. She hadn’t then and she didn’t now. But she trusted the Doctor and if she had invited her, she had done so with good reason.

“You made it.“ The Doctor stated as Missy came to a halt in front of her. She tried her best to ignore the concerned whispers amongst her friends. She had had to invite her. Things were complicated to say the least but she couldn't do this without her oldest friend. Things had gone too far with the Master she had last seen, she couldn’t forgive him, but with Missy… it had been the closest she had felt to the Master in millennia.

“Evidently.“ Missy hummed. “Well, I could hardly refuse my oldest friend.“ She looked her up and down. “You are old. Where am I in your time?“ She tilted her head, she could tell this Doctor was a whole lot older than the one she had last encountered on Skaro.

“That’s not important. I’m glad you came.“ The Doctor smiled, she didn’t want to dwell on what was yet to come for her, she just wanted to be happy for her being here.

“I wouldn’t miss the wedding of my best enemy, now, would I.“ Missy smirked as she looked at all the guest gathered on the balcony. Quite a few of them she remembered and was disappointed to find alive still. “But where is the bride?“

As if on cue, the TARDIS materialised at the far end of the aisle and the Doctor’s hearts nearly skipped their beats. The door opened and the Doctor let go the breath she was holding. It was Clara.

“No peeking, Doctor, I just need your in-laws.“ Clara grinned as she waved for the Ponds to go in while she went looking for her seat along with Vastra, Jenny and Strax.

“Clara, dear, don’t you look ravishing.“ Missy winked at Clara who turned a little pink but squared her jaw as she dropped into her seat next to Me. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the Master being here but it was the Doctor’s decision after all. The Ponds meanwhile disappeared into the TARDIS.

——

“I was gonna be cool and now I’m gonna cry.“ Rory took a deep breath, he had not been prepared for seeing his daughter in a wedding dress. They might not have been a traditional family but no matter what, she would always be his little girl, and this hit home. River was wearing a beautiful long wedding dress and her hair was pinned back with white flowers in it.

“And I thought I was going to be a mess.“ River chuckled and pulled her parents into her arms.

“Are you okay?“ Amy asked softly as they let go. She took River’s face in her hands, searching her eyes for an honest answer.

“I think so.“ River took a deep breath trying to compose herself. She couldn’t put into words how happy she was to see her parents again and how grateful she was to have them here now. It seemed as though the Doctor had put a lot of thought into planning this. The reality of it had yet to sink in. She couldn’t allow herself to think about it too much, she was worried that if she did, she would cry and ruin her make up.

“You’re not nervous are you?“ Amy chuckled.

“Where you in on all this?“ River asked, trying to wrap her head around it all.

“No, the Doctor only just picked us up! We will have to go back to our life to travel with her younger self again after this but… We wouldn’t miss this for anything in the universe.“ Amy kissed the top of her daughter’s head and gave her an encouraging smile.

“I am so glad you’re here.“ River smiled, her voice faltering just enough to betray the depth of her emotions. “So what do you think?“ She tried to play it off and took a twirl in her elegant white gown.

“Absolutely beautiful.“ Amy smiled, every inch the proud mother of the bride.  

——

“Right okay, stay cool…“ The Doctor mumbled to herself taking a deep breath.

“You’ve never been cool.“ Missy teased and the Doctor groaned in annoyance:

“Fuck off, Missy…“

“Swearing now, too, Doctor? Things have changed, I’ll say.“ Missy chuckled, delighting in the Doctor’s obvious tension.

“I’m fully expecting you to have come with some evil ploy to ruin the day… but I’m still glad you came.“ The Doctor looked to Missy hoping she understood why she had asked her here.

“Well, if I hadn’t, who would have brought you these?“ Missy sighed as she pulled out a small box. She opened it to reveal two pale wedding bands.

“That’s…“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in shocked but Missy didn’t allow her to dwell on it and get overcome by emotion.

“Dark star alloy… beats whatever pathetic excuse for wedding rings you’d planned on.“ She waved dismissively. “I mean, I only met the Professor once that time in prison but I have an eye for these things… not sure yours will fit now though, you’re much smaller than I remember.“ She grabbed the Doctor’s hand to look at her fingers.

“I’m not small! Look who’s talking.“ The Doctor huffed, she was still taller than her. “Oi!“ She pulled her hand back.

“Be back in a minute.“ Missy winked and hit the button on her vortex manipulator, disappearing into thin air.

“I swear this place must be giving off the biggest concentration of space time anomalies this side of the known universe…“ Kate shook her head to herself.

“There we are.“ Missy reappeared only seconds later. “Don’t look at me like that, what’s time travel good for if you can’t even get your best friend’s wedding ring resized.“ She smirked as she checked the rings again.

“Thank you, Missy.“ The Doctor gave her a soft smile and reached out to give her hand a squeeze. She didn’t have the words to say how much this meant to her, she could only hope she knew. Missy didn’t respond at first, she didn’t seem to know what to say, perhaps, just for a moment, she was overcome with emotion herself, so she pulled something else from her pocket to move the conversation along.

“Got you this as well, you wanted to do this properly, didn’t you.“ She handed over a scarlet ceremonial scarf to Tasha. High Gallifreyan symbols were embroiled on it in golden cross-stitch.

“That’s from home.“ The Doctor realised it was the sort of scarf used to officiate weddings on Gallifrey. With the planet destroyed she hadn’t thought it possible to find one.

“Your keen observational skills amaze me.“ Missy tried her best with a sarcastic quip but she couldn’t quite deliver it under the circumstances. “Only borrowed though, who knows, maybe I’ll want to get married one day.“ She shrugged and went to check her appearance in her pocket mirror again, ensuring she wasn’t showing any undo emotions. The Doctor, in turn, swallowed her emotions as well, they both knew how much this meant to either of them, it didn’t need saying.

“Old and burrowed.“ The Doctor smiled nodding at the ceremonial scarf. “And something new.“ She pointed to the rings in her hand and then turned her attention to the TARDIS.

“And something blue.“ Missy smiled and gave the Doctor’s hand a squeeze, allowing herself one brief moment of letting her guard down.

——

“Right, I better go and sit down. Let the father of the bride do the walking.“ Amy took a deep breath. “Do not stumble and embarrass your daughter.“ She jabbed her finger at Rory who straightened his tie.

“You just had to say that, didn’t you, now I’ll be watching my feet the whole time.“ He huffed and River chuckled.

“How about you watch out for me instead, Dad, hm?“ She looped her arm around his.

“I think I can manage that.“ Rory smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. The TARDIS wheezed and hummed behind them, drawing their attention to the console. There was a bouquet of exotic flowers sat on top of it.

“She’s really thought of everything, hasn’t she…“ River said softly as Amy fetched the flowers for her and handed them over. “I can’t believe she managed to do all this and keep it from me…“

“I think she’s had a lot more help than she would admit.“ Rory chuckled as Amy left the TARDIS. “Can’t pull off a Valentine’s surprise like this without accomplices.“ He smiled to his daughter who took another deep breath struggling for composure. “Ready?“ He asked.

“Ready.“ River smiled.

——

“Try not to cry, that would be so undignified.“ Missy mumbled to the Doctor but she never even took her words in. The moment River stepped out of the TARDIS, time itself seemed to grind to a halt, at least for the Doctor. The last rays of the slow Darllian sunset caught in River’s curls and the singing of the towers seemed to pick up with the light breeze. Their eyes met down the aisle and both the Doctor and River Song smiled, they didn’t need words, they both understood. An impossibly journey had brought them to this moment, surrounded by friends and family, a moment of pure joy and love that radiated through all of time and space. The Doctor thought of the towers as she listened to their enchanting melody. They’d been there for millions of years, through storms and floods and wars and... time… as she intended for her and her wife to be.

END.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

A Year Later

(I went through and edited this last night. I like it better now. lol. And I’m sure if I look back on this in another year, I’ll be like "No, no, past me. THIS is how you write this story.” ^_^ )

Night watch is particularly awful tonight.

To be fair, night watches in Lyrias are not the most enjoyable as a rule - that’s why Lord Makiri always assigns him to them - but the wind that has been coming off of the mountains tonight night reminds him of tales of dragons born from the womb of Winter herself; their flames so relentless and cold, they burn.

His team tonight are both new recruits, each of them hardy young men from southern posts and they huddle together, their faces pulled tight against the blast of cold. The shivering lot of them looked pitiful.

Obi sighs.

“Shu. Hiro. Can you mind the towers? I feel like going for a walk along the ramparts tonight.”

Two sets of eyes round, shining with hope. Ah, when did he get so soft?

“Are you sure, Commander? It’s horrible outside!” Hiro exclaims through chattering teeth.

“Are you saying I’m I can’t handle it?” Obi grins.

Hiro’s doe brown eyes go wide and he quickly shakes his head in denial. “N- no! I just thought-”

“Ahhhh,” Obi sighs, weaving his hands behind his head and walking towards the window. He winces when he sees the layers of frost already crackling the window. “Now I have to. Even my own men are starting to look at me like a well fed housecat.”

It’s Shu’s turn. “But Commander!”

“Mind the house,” Obi winks, opening the panel and jumping out into the night. The wind almost covers up their startled yells.

~ ~ ~

Sunrise couldn’t have come sooner and Obi blinks slowly into the red light of dawn. His face feels numb and raw from the wind; his bones aching from the weight of his body. He turns the guard over to Jirou, who’s concerned gaze he waves away with a smile.

“I’m getting too soft here,” Obi grins. His voice feels scratchy.

Jirou’s face doesn’t change. “As you say, Commander.”

~ ~ ~

The walk to the pharmacy has never taken so long. He craves sleep, wanting to crawl under his blankets and not come out until his next shift, but it has become something of a custom to spend some time in the pharmacy in the mornings. He knows the lot of them too well - they would come to his room, worrying and fussing if he were to suddenly break the tradition. Not that he was complaining. There was something … comforting about seeing each of their faces warmed with sleep before surrendering to his.

The smile that cracks his lips ripples through his whole body. What a change this place has wrought.

Obi swallows and winces at the little blades cutting the inside of his throat. Massaging his neck, he thinks that maybe he will stay long enough for a cup of tea this time. Especially if it is Miss that is brewing the cup…

The large wooden double doors groan when he lays his weight against them, swinging open and the wave of heat that settles upon him immediately sends a shiver through his bones.

He pulls off his scarf immediately, the sensation of being strangled by warmth abating for only a moment. Dragging his gaze across the room, his eyes search for the source of the excess before being distracted by the sight of his Miss’s back hunched over her grinding wheel.

“Good morning!” he exclaims brightly.

Obi takes off his hat, already damp, among a muffled assortment of sleepy greetings. Only Ryuu looks up, his brows pinched as if he’s faced with a sudden puzzle before murmuring his greetings as well.

Grinning, Obi comes to stand behind Miss, staring over her shoulder. She looks up, smiling at him; it falters a little when she meets his eyes. 

“How was the night watch?” she asks slowly. “It was terribly cold last night.”

Obi knows better than to ask if she missed him. “It was no worse than most,” he replies, stretching his arms over his head. “Hopefully Makiri will forgive the roka incident soon and I can go back to gracing you with my presence every waking hour, Miss.”

She grins, the sweet way that makes her cheek dimple, and his fingers twitch, wanting so to frame them with his hands.

“Does someone have a runny nose?” he asks, nodding towards the plants laying across her desk.

Her smile turns delighted. “Yes!” she says, looking over her shoulder towards her forgotten work. “You’re getting good at this, Obi.”

His eyes are latched at the juncture of her throat. 

“Maybe Makiri could consider transferring you here so I don’t have to work so hard,” Suzu calls from his own work station; It’s a small miracle to hear him string together so many words so early in the morning. 

“I don’t see how you could work less than you do,” Ryuu grumps.

“Don’t,” Yuzuri warns from her perch atop a ladder. “He’ll only take that as a challenge.”

Obi feels a little swell of accomplishment bubble up in his chest and he smothers it by focusing his attention on the ties of his coat. “As if I could replace any one of you,” he grins, parting his heavy winter gear and flinching a little at the way the air cut through his sweat drenched shirt. “It was just a lucky guess.”

Little goosebumps break out across his skin as the extra layer slides off. Twisting his body to glance around the room, his confusion only adds to his discomfort when he discovers nothing to explain why it’s so warm in here. When he looks back towards his Miss, she is staring at him strangely.

“Is there something wrong, Obi?” she asks, stepping towards him with a raised hand. “Your color looks off.”

Obi’s flinches away from her hand and waves dismissively. “I’m fine, Miss,” he says, his lips curling into a smile as he backs into a stool. “It was just a long night.”

He settles down gratefully, the weight of his body sinking him like a boulder into a vat of syrup, and he closes his eyes. The room is oddly silent, but each tiny little sound is so loud that it vibrates along his skin.

“Did you bring an extra burner in here?” he asks conversationally, leaning back to rest his head against the wall.

A cool, dry hand, much larger than his Miss’s, is suddenly flat on his sticky forehead. Obi’s eyes fly open, landing on Suzu’s face, whose lips are downturned in a disapproving frown.

“You have a fever,” he declares, before pinning Obi with a withering stare. “A high one.”

Obi feels his forehead crease, perplexed, and he bats away his hand. “That’s not possible,” he replies, and he has to cough a little to clear the hoarseness from his voice. “I don’t get sick.”

Suzu says nothing, taking a step back to accommodate Ryuu, who is pulling up a stool to sit in front of him. Without a word, he grabs Obi’s hands in his, turning his wrists upward before his fingers unerringly finding his pulse point and presses down. Obi stares, bewildered, but remains silent as the young man tilts his head down in concentration. Miss comes up silently behind him, her face serious.

After a moment, Ryuu looks up and meets Obi’s eyes. “Tongue,” he says firmly, and it takes a moment for Obi to realize that Ryuu wants to see it.

Awkwardly, he complies.

Miss leans over Ryuu’s shoulder and squints, and with both of them staring at the inside of his mouth, Obi feels a tense tendril of discomfort crawl up his neck. He closes his mouth.

“It was really red,” Miss comments, thoughtful, and Ryuu grunts in acknowledgment.

“His pulse is a little fast and floating, too,” he adds, releasing Obi’s wrists and coming to standing.

“Did you eat yet, Obi?” Miss asks, and Obi starts to find her eyes suddenly on his.

“Um.”

Shirayuki’s lips thin in disapproval. “I’m going to go down to the kitchen,” she says, turning towards Ryuu.

Ryuu nods, already half way across the room and heading towards the medicine cabinets. “Brew some peppermint tea, too.”

With a breath and a blink, Miss is gone, the door swinging closed behind her. Obi grabs at his shoulder, looking around the room in bafflement. Everyone’s workbenches have been abandoned.

Yuzuri pops up, far closer than she should be, and his eyes go wide as something hot and heavy falls onto his shoulders. It immediately seeps through his skin and into his bones. He melts under it, dropping his hand to his lap, eyes sliding shut.

A small hand wraps around his elbow before pulling back and Obi drags open his eyes just in time to see her nose crinkling in disgust. “You’re sweating really heavily,” she comments. “Stand up. Suzu has a bed ready for you in the infirmary.”

Obi frowns, opening his mouth to protest, but Yuzuri is already grabbing his hands, using her body as a lever to pull him reluctantly to standing. “I’m fine,” he argues.

“Of course you are,” she replies, rolling her eyes and coming to stand behind him. She pushes him forward and the room spins. Catching himself on the edge of a table, he squeezes his eyes open and shut to clear them. Yuzuri grabs his arm again, swinging it over her shoulder. “You are the very picture of health.”

For such a tiny thing, she is sturdy, made less of the sunshine she basks in on warm days in the hothouses and more of the earth she coaxes life from. And just like the earth in motion, she is an force, half dragging him across the room towards the infirmary doors.

“Do you have to be so rough?” he complains.

She grins up at him, bumping her hip against the infirmary door. “I don’t know. Ask Suzu.”

The flush that heats his face is surprising and not something he would ever admit to.

He must be sick after all.

The dark of the room hides his warm face, though, and soothes his eyes. Yuzuri lowers him to the cot and he falls over like a leaf, lying down and letting the first real wave of exhaustion sink him down. He doesn’t even protest when he feels layers of blankets start to unfold on top of him.

Faintly, he thinks he hears Yuzuri’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I’m gonna go back to my room to get my kit,” she explains before sniffing, “And change. He’s absolutely soaked.”

“We’ll need to change his clothes when he wakes up,” Ryuu replies.

“There’s a lot of blankets in here. We’ll just have to take turns checking in to make sure he hasn’t pushed them off in his sleep,” Suzu says, his voice soft and concerned. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll send Shirayuki back to his rooms to get his nightclothes and Ryuu and I can change them out.”

“It’s good that he’s already sweating, though,” Ryuu adds. “Hopefully it means this will pass quickly.”

There is a quiet shuffle and the soft clicking of shoes against stone work before doors open and close all around him. Left alone, Obi hesitantly lets his eyes fall shut. It’s a strange feeling, but- but he wishes they hadn’t left.

A rustle of fabric makes him squints his eyes open and he looks up to see Suzu unfolding another blanket on top of him.

Oh.

Their eyes meet briefly as Suzu straightens out the coverings, smoothing them down to ensure that he is completely covered.

“This is unnecessary,” Obi mutters as the other man reaches up to readjust the hot packs across his shoulders.

Suzu pauses and looks down at him. The expression Obi finds there is an unfamiliar one.

“It is completely necessary,” he replies, stern. “You’re our friend and you’re sick. We’re going to get you better.”

[scuttleboat]

So you think we'll get a verbal confirmation, but like other characters calling them out on their feelings or between each other? I can't see bellamy confessing his feelings, he's not good at words, well... tbf he's learning (You left me, I was so angry at you for leaving, I believe you) but yet, I can't see that scene. I can imagine Clarke though. She has always verbalized how she feels about him and we know Bellamy is gonna risk his life at some point so maybe creates a reaction from her.

Between each other is my guess. We’ve already had 2 people call out Bellamy for caring about Clarke more than the rest, and 2 people call out Clarke (Lexa, Abby), so having more people call attention to it won’t change anything. It may happen sure, but what I’m anticipating is a confirmation from either Clarke or Bellamy, hopefully to the other.

I also don’t picture Bellamy confessing his feelings–it would have to be really strenuous circumstances and probably not even then, because he’d want to avoid it and spare her pain.  I wouldn’t say he’s ‘learning’ exactly, because I feel like he’s a very skilled communicator. It’s more a question of how comfortable does he feel?  He was always open with Octavia, from season 1, so I feel like Bellamy in his 'normal’ state would be comfortable talking about his feelings to a loved one. But nothing has been normal for him since landing. 

All through season 1 he came to trust Clarke as a colleague and partner, but they didn’t get into their personal lives until they were both intoxicated and traumatized. After that, it was all business again…and I think Bellamy didn’t even know he could have a personal relationship with Clarke until she hugged him in 205. We saw right then that he had to evaluate their friendship in seconds, and accept it. Which he did. They only had a couple days together in s2—during which horrific things happened–and then they got separated again. Nothing in that time makes sharing one’s feelings easy.  So when 305 happened, it was like a dam breaking for Bellamy (all the words kept unspoken by circumstance are now free, showing his hurt and anger), and like a pulling back of the curtain for Clarke (showing her weakness and regret.)  After that, they expressed their feelings a few times in season 3… in 3x11, 3x12, 3x13, and a dash in 3x15 and 3x16.

I think two things have finally lined up: Bellamy and Clarke initmate enough that he can express his emotions if he thinks it’s appropriate, and they finally are having enough screen time to allow for it.  So I think they’re going to be talking about their general emotions a lot in season 4: fears, hopes, trust, reliance. Clarke and Bellamy are both very introspective and self-reflective people, prone to angsting about their life choices.  Be that as it may, I don’t think Bellamy has any romantic expectation for Clarke, and I don’t think he’s gonna be the first person to broach it. Not only is he suffering his own grief, but I think he doesn’t know if Clarke has romantic feelings for him. He knows she loves and trusts him (HELLO, OKAY, SHE GAVE HERSELF UP TO DIE SO HE’D BE SPARED, RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM), but he may not think she sees him in a romantic way.

Which, after aaaaaaaaallllll that talking, brings me around to Clarke. CLARKE GRIFFIN, WHO IS ALWAYS SHOUTING TO PEOPLE ABOUT BELLAMY BLAKE. There are a lot of things that I hope we see Clarke go through in season 4, starting with how with her last two loves, she put off true emotional intimacy and connection until their relationships were essentially over.  With Finn, she was hurt so she was busy pushing him away until he got himself killed. With Lexa, Clarke had to work through her anger/hurt and choose to trust Lexa, and by the time that was happening, Arkadia needed her more. So Clarke decided to leave, and only let herself indulge in a romantic/sexual encounter after she’d already chosen an end-point. Even that was mostly nonverbal; Clarke could barely talk about what she wanted until Lexa was dying–again, tragically almost too late for Clarke to make that emotional declaration.

But 3x16 was a whopper, and we saw incredible character development from Clarke.  Yes, she again said “I love you” at the last possible moment, but her relationship with Lexa was already a step more outgoing/trusting than her relationship with Finn had been, and in this Clarke lets herself say goodbye to her love. She’s able to get some resolution. Right after that, Clarke faces Becca/ALIE, and she chooses to live. Clarke choosing to live is so freaking important okay, like so so important, because for a long time all Clarke has done until now has been survive. Season 3 showed her that she needs to live, and I hope s4 she will put that into practice. I’m not the first person to say this, but I really do hope that most of the lessons the cast learned for the first 3 seasons will be finally put to use this season: living, choosing an ethical path, being open to love, unifying people. Essentially… making connections, on a personal and societal level. By connecting with others, we survive.

All that is going to compound in Clarke when it comes to Bellamy.  We’ve already seen Clarke tell many, many people that Bellamy matters, that Bellamy is important, that Bellamy has to be protected, that she needs Bellamy. Frankly, she talks about him so much that her mother, ALIE, and even psycho mountain vampire Emerson knew that Bellamy is the lever on which to turn Clarke.  So if Bellamy is seriously endangered, then yes–that could be the thing that provokes her to tell him how strongly she feels about him. But I hope that it’s something else, because I don’t want Clarke to repeat the same pattern of waiting till the last minute.  I think that the moment will be dramatic, but not necessarily because he could die. Maybe instead, it’s when the world itself is going wrong? Or when a different kind of drama arises. Maybe just when she sees him after witnessing something terrible. Maybe if they reunite after a brief absence. There’s so much potential.  But I think Clarke is going to say something major about how she feels before the season ends, and Bellamy will hear/see it, setting them up for an escalating romance in s5.  And yep, I think a kiss is also possible in late 4B.

 …and now I’ve talked way too much about this.  Thanks for sticking with this whole thing, lol.