#isaac newton x reader

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: a handful of insecurities the ikemen guys would adore.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: happy holidays everyone!! i hope this makes at least one person feel loved by their fav <3 just know that this isnt a decisive list and that no matter your insecurity your favorite suitor would adore you to bits.

you might think that they're silly for adoring your stomach so much, worshiping any extra fat or polished muscle you possess. they revel in your softness, burying their face into your midsection whenever they get the chance, kissing the skin there when they wake up and resting a hand over your belly button when you two go to sleep. if you’re ticklish there, watch out, because they take great joy in poking and prodding you just to hear you giggle.

arthur, dazai, will, charles, luke, silvio, edgar, kyle, seth, loki, masamune, mitsunari, motonari.

they don't understand what’s so embarrassing about your body hair. to them, it adds a sort of human softness to your legs as they run their hands down your calves, feeling the slight prickle of where each strand begins and ends. they think it’s beautiful, smiling so softly as they cup your knee, rubbing their thumbs across your skin. they do the same to your arms, cherishing every inch of your body,  just to remind you that even if you don’t like your body hair, they do because it's you.

leonardo, vincent, faust, clavis, zero, sirius, fenrir, mitsuhide, shingen.

your nose is often where their kisses land, sprinkling the bridge of it with their love and affection. they caress your face so tenderly as they bump their nose against yours, and you can feel the smile on their lips when they lean in to kiss you again. no matter what shape or what size, they will never stop thinking that your nose suits you just perfectly.

isaac, jean, leon, yves, sariel, keith, jonah, luka, dean, oliver, hideyoshi, keiji.

they think your acne and your scars are beautiful, even if you hate the way they look on your body. they insist it could never take away from your beauty, that you will always and forever be radiant, even with the red marks and the dull, faded scars. they’ll help you take care of them so you aren’t hurt, but they will never let you believe that you’re ugly. that word should not be associated with you, not when you have constellations speckled across your face and scars that are on their precious love and their precious love alone.

napoleon, sebastian, licht, nokto, alter keith, ray, dalim, mousse, yukimura, kanetsugu, kicho.

...and along with acne, they know you could never look prettier, especially not without your cellulite or stretch marks or anything in between. they trace the folds and warps in your skin with reverence because you are their love, their light, and their darling, and for as long as they live they want nothing more than to be able to hold you. because you are a human being who is worthy of love, if not for your humanity then because of your humanity.

mozart, theo, comte, vlad, jin, chevalier, rio, gilbert, lancelot, harr, blanc, nobunaga, ieyasu, ranmaru, kenshin, sasuke, yoshimoto, kennyo.

[art-of-love-and-war]

Hi!!! This is the first time I've EVER requested anything, so I'm super excited to be asking you. Would it be OK if I could have headcannons with some of the ikevamp boys? If you're comfortable with it, could I have Arthur, Comte, Isaac and Leonardo with and mc who has ADHD? I completely understand if you don't, feel free to completely ignore me. Thank youuu 😊😊😊❤❤❤

Characters: Arthur Conan Doyle | Comte De Saint Germain | Isaac Newton | Leonardo Da Vinci x GN!Reader  Rating: General.  Word count: 819 words  Warning/s: Reader has ADHD, mentions of procrastination, hyperfocus, not enough focus. Author note: Hello! Sorry this took so long, I’ve had this on my mind for a very long time, and I even thought about doing Isaac’s route to write him more accurately but work has been killing me so I didn't get to open the DSM-V collecting dust in my shelf for this one :c

[୨୧] — Arthur Conan Doyle

There are quite some things he can understand about your symptoms. The main thing being procrastinating. 

Listen, he is a writer, and he is not perfect, and there are moments where inspiration poofs out and he is forced to stop with his writer's block, or sometimes he feels stuck in a sentence and decides to do everything except finish his next chapter, so he can empathize when you go through periods where you keep pushing certain activities until the last minute.

He still worries about your well-being, even if he is not a doctor anymore; he is curious about the treatment you had back at your time and home. 

He is sweet and understanding, despite having some pet peeves, he does his best to understand how it's something that is part of you and can work with support. And he wants to be that support.

Arthur also finds relatable the moments where you are stuck with your hyper-focus periods, and you happen to do your and Sebastian’s chores for the day on your own, though he is hurt by you mostly ignoring him those awful days when he wants nothing but to pamper you.

[୨୧] — Comte De Saint Germain

He is a wonderful and understanding man.

I can imagine him having a lot of pet peeves with people getting distracted too easily or drifting off and, part of loving you is the imperfections you embrace of each other and, they make you perfect for him as anyone. 

He is careful of the periods where you either procrastinate too much or hyper-focus too much to not exhaust yourself with the chores you take or by making you overwhelmed by taking care of the mansion and its inhabitants. 

He will listen to your weekly obsession without trouble. Do you want to tell him about 30 crow facts you learned? Tell him. Did you find a new way to make Sebas flick your forehead? He frowns. Do you want to tell him about your comfort fanfic you know by heart because you can’t read it anymore? He will listen.

If you fidget too much, and if you ask, he will get someone from his multiple contacts to make a “replica” of the fidget toys you used to have back at home.

[୨୧] — Isaac Newton

I have been seriously thinking of this since I got this ask because it seems too funny even if I haven't read his route: Consider, you don’t shut up.

Isaac strikes me as the type who wants to study in peace and quiet.

So maybe your relationship is quite a bumpy ride at first. 

What amazes him is your capability of telling him about 100 things that interested you in the span of a single week.

Your conversations flow at random, so he would often be working on his stuff to suddenly be whisked away by you to tell him about that one thing you found out about hedgehogs for 3 hours. 

Sometimes you are the cause of some of his frustrations. Last month you started knitting? He found some yarn with a texture you like and bought it as a gift, thinking you could make something for yourself.

He came back to find your knitted sweater half done and forgotten, and now you are learning how to bake. 

And it is an ongoing cycle, but he finds a bit of happiness in you trying new things, as you often drag him along, which means spending more time together.

Maybe your relationship is the answer to what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

[୨୧] — Leonardo Da Vinci

ADHD? 

Avoid tasks? Hyperfocus? Not enough focus? This man is a master at all those (and at dozing off)

He doesn’t mind you procrastinating, he has been avoiding to clean up his room for the last century, so he can’t complain. 

Now, if you forget or get distracted about other things, now that’s a different story. Did you feed Lumiere in the evening and forgot to tell him, and then he fed him that same day, and now you have a chubby cat? 

That’s funny, but no. 

Aside from that, he doesn’t have trouble with your condition; he is still a loving man. He always is and has been when it comes to loving you. 

And he likes your energy and how you keep him awake, in a sense, always making him try new things together, like dancing! Which he is not the best at, but he doesn’t mind trying your interests. 

If you take an interest in one of his multiple areas of expertise he’d definitely teach you and not be bothered if you happen to drop your interest in the activity, in fact, he invites you to try other things.

Beware, he is a strict teacher, so he doesn’t want your attention wandering off too often.

He enjoys…, grounding you, lets say. 

[whatever-fanfics]

Hiiii! Congrats on 200 followers! 🥳

I'd like to request! Hopefully I'm doing it right hihi

I want 1 (fluffy) with 16 (doing work together) from part 1. And from part 2 I'll let you be creative. I'd like with Isaac or Mozart (Ikevamp). Whichever is easier for you (:

Thank you for requesting, don't worry it did everything right! 😊 I'm really excited you're my first request 🥰

P.S. I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's alright.

Request: Fluff, with 16 "doing work together" (part 1), with 12 "Can you help me with my hair" (part 2). {Isaac Newton} {IKEMEN VAMPIRE}

~~~

Foolish Genius

Ikemen vampire x reader

Isaac newton x gn! Reader

TW: None

~~~

You sighed in annoyance aggressively shaking your head upwards in an attempt to wrestle with the mane on your head causing you endless frustration. You were elbow deep in old books covered in grime, dust, and god knows what else in the library. Some not having seen the light of day for a year of more. If the opening of the library door didn't catch your attention the small sneeze did.

You and Isaac had a rare day off, so he shyly asked, well it's more like he told you, you offered, and he shyly accepted, in your assistance in gathering information for his research.

"Bless you" you turned to face Isaac, even bothered by all the dust he looked so cute. Sniffling a 'thank you' he turned to you, a bit surprised to see you vigorously shaking your head.

"Are you okay?"

"Hair" you said with one last shake, noticing that Isaac's hands were freshly washed you asked "can you help me with my hair?" His eyebrows raised to his hairline, blush coating his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched one and avoided eye contact with you. He grumbled out an unintelligible response. Afraid you'd made him uncomfortable you quickly added "it's alright if you don't want to"

"NO!" he interjected

"I just..." he trailed off, embarrassed. "Isaac, it's alright" you reassured, "No, I want to, I just...don't..know how" his blush more apparent than ever. "Oh..." you cooed, enamored with how sincere yet adorably embarrassed he looked. "Well here I have a hair tie on my wrist, but my hands are dirty. It's not that hard I'll show you" you put the books down on the table and showed him your wrist. He cleared his throat and made his way over to you, his blush dying down as he did so.

With unsure movements he gently takes the tie off your wrist. Immediately entranced by its material and elasticity, sensing his intrigue you started "it's an elastic hair tie, there's a rubber band on the inside. I have some more in my room if you'd like" at your offer he brightened up a bit, but ultimately focused on his next task. You wanted to laugh but held off on it, looking at his intimidated face.

Isaac breathed through his nose, determinedly, and prayed that his blush wasn't as noticeable as he knew it was before. Besides, it's just tying hair, how hard could it be?

Isaac breathed through his nose in exasperation as he tried to gently shake the hair tie from your hair, you hope he didn't notice the way your face scrunched up when he shook your hair, getting a little tangled form his efforts.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it, I could just-" "No, it's fine I just-tell me again" he urged you, "okay first put your hand in the band and then grab my hair with the same hand, got it?" you paused, not wanting to overload him with information like before, he started once more. After his countless fruitless past attempts, he was able to pull all your hair through and twist the band "Ah!" his surprise caught your attention. Excited for him, partially because you'd been sitting there longer than you'd been searching. "You did it!?!" while you were happy for him and excited, you tried your best not to move so as to not undue his work. "What next" a bit distracted because of his feat, you quickly answered "right, take the hair through the loop again and twist the hair tie" hearing him swallow thickly practically seeing the sweat drop down his forehead in concentration, it made you happy to know he was taking this so seriously. "Okay, what next" he spoke so thickly, you almost wanted to tell him to relax, "don't worry we're almost done" you eased him. Isaac nodded trying to ease his deep concentration "last step, take the hair through the loop one last time and let the hair tie go" you're hopeful it wasn't as bad as your first time tying your hair.

"Okay" he said carefully letting go, easing his hands down to his side as if he were scared his hard work would fall apart if he let go to quickly.

Raising a hand to lightly feel your hair, you felt more bumps and noticed there were a few strands out of the ponytail rather than in. A strained smile made its way to your face, you hoped he didn't notice, he did. "It's good" a bead of sweat formed on his face as he sensed the falsity of your statement.

Seeing the melancholy look overtake his face you said "believe it or not, for your first time. You did really well" well he did feel a little better after hearing you. Looking back up, fully taking in your appearance, a small laugh escaped his throat. Which in turn escaped yours.

~~~

A small hum escaped the young girls mouth as she shifted her weight, waiting for her father to finish her hair.

"Keep still" he mumbled out deep in concentration. She mumbled in response ready for this to be over. She had to get out early in order to talk with the girls about why-"all done" her dad said leaning down to kiss her cheek. He'd gotten better with affection since it was the main way his daughter knew how to show affection.

"Papa" she turned around to see him standing up to button his collar. As he mumbled out a response in acknowledgement she asked "where did you learn to do hair?" He turned to her, surprised, as she felt the braids in her hair. He cleared his throat as a blush took over his features "your-your mother taught me", though some things never change, he answered in a small voice. Clearing his throat once more he asked her why, "cause all the other girls at school don't believe me when I say my mom and dad do my hair, they say dad's can't do hair." She paused for a moment, then continued "I think..it makes you...better..than the other dads." She turned around so he wouldn't see her blush. He knew his smile was evident yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing would beat the happiness he felt from hearing her say that.

~~~

First one down 😚

[tayovampr]

How Gossip Spreads Through The Mansion.

ikemen vampire headcannons

( warnings? ) none. ( notes? ) THIS HEADCANNON CONTAINS MY OC. just a few thoughts about how these vampires are extremely nosy and love to spread false information unknowingly :0

It all begins in the kitchen. As the coffee brews for the mansions residents, our lovely helpers: Sebastian, Mitsuki (Y/n) and Temi seem to be cooking up some trouble…

Mitsuki would unintentionally reveal something that happened thorough out the day. Maybe it was something she overheard while shopping, on the balcony or watching Napoleon and Jean spar. She always tells Sebastian and Temi what she hears about the residents—since Sebastian has that interesting hobby of his.

“Hey Sebastian, Temi?” Mitsuki calls out to the two as they washed the dishes. Sebastian was scrubbing, Temi was rinsing, and Mitsuki was drying and polishing.

The two turned their heads to look at their friend, wondering what was the matter.

“I was in Comte room earlier helping him open up some letters, and that’s when I came across this one letter. Now mind you, it was scented, had a very prestigious emblem on the wax and included a dried rose in it.” Mitsuki began.

“Le Comte gets letters like that all the time.” Sebastian responded. “Was there something special about it?”

“Well, it clearly came from a girl. And when Comte read it, he was so happy! I mean I never saw him like this before, but it makes me think if he has a secret lover—” Before Mitsuki could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by Temi, who had accidentally dropped a plate into the sink, causing the water to splash up at her.

“Secret lover?!” She exclaimed in disbelief. “What makes it worse is that it’s believable���”

“What if she’s a vampire bombshell who was childhood friends with him and lives in a gothic castle lavished in red and riches? I can’t compete in that race…” Temi grumbled afterwards. Sebastian however looked at the two thoughtfully.

“Well, we’ll do no good sitting here pondering. At dinner let’s go ask Le Comte ourselves.”

Most of the times, it’s something tame. No big deal, and not needing of attention. But as always, if your trying to keep a secret in a mansion full of nosy vampires with supersonic hearing—you better believe this game of telephone will spiral out of control.

Isaac, surprisingly, is the main catalyst for this disaster. Jean coming in a close second. ( I mean, you can see it in some events when it’s almost always these two mishearing something (*´▽`*) )

But it would always be unintentional! Isaac would just walk past an open door and when he heard something shocking, he couldn’t help to stop and get a closer ear. Jean on the other hand wouldn’t stop. He would take the bits and pieces he heard and formulate them in his mind, completing the story for himself.

‘Comte has a lover?’ Isaac thought to himself as he listened in to the conversation. ‘Why has he been hiding it from us all this time? Well—I could understand. I hope he introduces us to her…’

‘That rascal!’ Jean grit his teeth when he heard the news. Although heard would be a stretch. ‘Playing with Temi and Mitsuki’s heart even though he has a women of his own. I will get him to confess…’

And now we have three stories. The truth, an assumption, and a incomplete statement. Which one will travel throughout the mansion quicker?

Jean obviously tells Napoleon and Mozart. It slips out during their sparring lessons, and he tells Mozart on a whim—since they’re friends.

“Wait so—Comte is married?” Napoleon exclaims, as he puts his sword back into its hilt. Jean nods, sitting down of the ground to catch his breathe.

“He has refused to tell us about his secret lover for this long. It makes you wonder what else he has been keeping from us…” Napoleon loosely claims, wiping the sweat that adorned his forehead.

Jean however was thinking in his head, that he was right all along not to trust him. “That shady man…”

With Mozart, he looked a bit confused. “There is just no way Comte is married Jean, did he tell you himself?”

Then for Isaac, the words accidentally slip when he was getting teased by Arthur and Dazai. Of course, these were the worse people to tell out of everyone in the mansion.

Arthur applauded Comte on his fruitfulness. Claiming that it takes skill to hid a lover for so long. While Dazai takes this information with interest. It just so happened when he was scaling the windows, he overheard Mozart and Jean’s discussion.

For Dazai, he didn’t really believe this. As he saw in the music room, Jean wasn’t sure who he heard this information from. But being chaotic as Dazai is, he naturally wanted to be included in the fun. So he often changes up the story.

“How sly of Comte, it seems that he has not only hid his secret wife, but the fact that she will be moving in to live with us soon. Isn’t that great Ai-kun? Lovers reunited at last.” With these words Dazai left, not daring to explain anything.

“Move in with us? By Jove, you would think that old man would tell us before making the decision?” Arthur comments with a sigh.

Dazai doesn’t tell anyone else after that. He is more interested in seeing how this spreads and which one would reach Comte’s ear first. Arthur however tells his best buddy Theo. Theo tells Vincent and Vincent tells Shakespeare. By now the rumor has morphed into something unbelievable.

“Comte is a pathological liar who is hiding his wife from the residents and is planning to make her move in with them because she is expecting soon.” Don’t ask how.

Leonardo hears about this from Temi, who asks if Comte had a lover. Leonardo laughs and answers not anymore—wondering why she was asking.

“Are ya worried about “Comte’s” love life cara mia?” Leonardo jokingly asks.

Although he was joking in that moment, it just confirmed his suspicions that something was spreading in the mansion. Throughout the whole day Leonardo was hearing bits and pieces of a story that including Comte—so it was time he saw the truth for himself.

When he gets to Comte’s room he wastes no time to ask him about it.

“Have you just been in your room all day? Looks like you don’t know what’s happening outside.” Comte looks up from the papers he was sorting at Leonardo, a confused look on his eyes.

“Outside?” He asks, to which Leonardo takes out a cigarillo and begins to light it.

“Yeah…something about you being a compulsive liar who is hiding his pregnant wife from us—it gets a bit tricky because half are saying she’s gonna move in with us, and half are saying your gonna move in with her.”

Comte is just astounded. He just stares blankly at Leonardo…an awkward laugh sounding from his throat. “…Really?” Is all he could muster, as Leonardo begins to laugh.

“See I knew it wasn’t true. But you know might as well confirm before I do damage control right?”

Comte was still shocked. After all he’s done from the residents, was this how easy it was for their views to change—and when did he get a pregnant wife?

“For these being the great men I choose to revive…I wonder how great their intuition really is…” Comte mumbles to himself.

“Well, let’s go straight if things out. I’m fairly certain I know who started this.” Leonardo claims, laughing to himself. “I want to know where the story changed too.”

The residents were all gathered for dinner, the main goal being to clear up the misconceptions. Each person was made to go around and tell what they heard and what they believed, and from there they traced it down to Mitsuki, Isaac and Jean.

Mitsuki explains her thinking to Comte, I’m which he clarifies that he has no secret lover and that the letter was just from an old friend he saved years ago.

Everyone breathes out a sigh of relief. It looked like none of them were ready for a new arrival. And some, specifically Mozart, wasn’t particularly fond on a baby crying and running around…

[violettduchess]

Hello! I don't know if you're still taking kisses requests but I'd love one for Isaac bc he's baby and I wanna give him all the smooches<3 thank you!!

A/N: Here you go @akitsuneswife 💜

Isaac x Reader

Word Count: 454

His eyes, the soft pink of cherry blossoms in springtime, light up when he sees you waiting on the university steps. The sky above is already darkening, an ombré of blues from the last, light vestiges of day to the halcyon, inky darkness of night. After a long day of classes and conferences, you are the last person he expects to see and somehow, the only one he wants to. It’s late enough that students and faculty are scarce, the usually bustling entrance of the science building all but deserted. He lowers his worn leather satchel and opens his arms to welcome you as you bound up the alabaster stairs and step into his arms.

Like magnets, your faces tilt and your lips find each other, drawn to one another with a force as natural as it is undeniable. His words, spoken not all that long ago, echo through your mind as your lips touch: “You’re the first person I’ve ever laughed with…felt peace with…the first one I’ve ever felt possessive of…”

Sometimes when Isaac kisses you, he burns as brightly as a comet, his mouth leaving a fiery trail of kisses across the firmament of your body. You're lambent with want, glowing with need. He leaves the world of rational thinking behind and with you, sinks into the wonder of just being. Of feeling. Of letting go and allowing the primal, uralt desire that spins in our cores to drive his actions, his touches, his soft, half-growled whispers. Sometimes he leaves you, deliciously broken, deliriously spent, your mind unable to form a single thought, capable of nothing other than listening to the throb of your heart as it drums how much you love him.

But sometimes, like this velveteen moment on the white marbled steps of academia, there are no chaotic explosions. His lips on yours don’t burn, but rather soothe. It is the gentle, peaceful twinkle of starlight, the silver beam of moonlight as it brightens the night. The kiss of someone who cherishes you, protects you, will always shelter you with every atom of his being.

His kiss sends a warm ripple of satisfaction through your veins as you lean into his arms, feel them tighten around you. You love how you fit into his embrace, how your bodies feel like matching puzzle pieces that lock together perfectly to create a picture of pure happiness. He slides his hands upward until he cradles your face, allowing himself the luxury of using only his sense of feel (your skin under his palms), of taste (your lips, sweeter than apples), of sound (your hushed sighs of contentment). You transcend his need to analyze, to tinker, to figure out. 

You allow him to exist, just like this.

And you love him, just as he is.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

[alby-rei]

Stranger Dreams (IkeVamp; Isaac & Napoleon)

a/n: Dreams seldom make sense, even when the visions may draw inspiration from familiar faces and places. I found this WIP in my folder—which was actually completed all along—and it made me laugh so much, I just had to post it. These were actual dreams I had, LOL

Tagging @scummy-writes for isaac, @xxsycamore for napo, @colorpuff for the fic sillies

[Word count]: ~550 words

[Characters]: You (1st POV), Isaac, Napoleon

~*~

“So I saw you in a dream recently,” I told Isaac.

We were in the lounge. Isaac sat cross-legged on the floor with tools and metal parts strewn across the carpet. He tinkered with his latest telescope prototype while I dusted the bookshelves behind him. He looked up when I didn’t continue.

“Is that so? What was the dream about?” He asked with some apprehension and curiosity.

“Well…”

I was in the mansion’s courtyard. It must have been after dinnertime because I distinctly remember being guided by the light of the lanterns towards the gazebo. Fireflies danced in small groups along the path, but none of them were bothered by my presence. I heard the sound of talking at the gazebo, but I couldn’t make sense of a single word.

When I rounded the corner, I saw you, Isaac, pointing at the chalkboard behind you. You were dressed in your university robe, giving a lecture in a very urgent tone. I turned to look for whom you were speaking to, but there was no one there.

Then, your face came up super close. You gripped my shoulders and shook me silly. You looked frantic as you urged me to do… something?! I couldn’t understand a word you were saying, but I kept nodding anyways. It seemed to calm you down. You insisted that I go do the thing, whatever it was, and then… the dream ended.

“Uhh…” Isaac stared, mouth agape. “I…don’t know what to say. I’m sorry?”

“No, no, it’s okay! I just woke up wondering what you were saying, if you had told me something that I completely disregarded.”

Isaac wracked his brain in search of your previous conversations. Now you made him second-guess himself, had he asked you for something urgent? He shrugged his shoulders, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he replayed yesterday’s events.

“Hahahahha!” Another voice made itself known in the lounge. It was Napoleon. “I get weird dreams all the time, but nothing ever like this.”

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Napoleon smiled openly where he stood at the doorway. He walked in, steering clear of Isaac’s work zone—which was the entire carpet.

“Oh, Napoleon! I dreamt about you, too, now that I think about it. That dream was equally bizarre, if not more.”

“I’m all ears.” He lounged on the couch with feet off the ground. He perched his elbow on the armrest.

This time it was inside the mansion. I was walking down the hallway—though I don’t know where I was headed exactly—when I caught sight of you, Napoleon, inspecting the curtains of the French windows.

When I moved closer, you ripped the curtains clean off their rail and… proceeded to hang it around your shoulders?! You asked me if they suited you or not. I stuttered something out, can’t remember now. You nodded and folded the curtains on the floor.

Then, you moved to the next curtain and did the same until you were pleased with how your reflection looked in the reflective window.

            “That…” Dumbfounded, Napoleon’s eyebrows shot up. He blinked twice. “…heh, sure sounds bizarre, alright.” His gaze darted to the curtains that hung over the arched windows, as if he were appraising their cape-abilities. The corners of his lips quirked upwards.

            “Napoleon, no,” said Isaac.

~*~

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[mygnolia]

three laws of motion, and the three ways i love you | sjy

synopsis -› the only person jake has to thank for you and him getting together is isaac newton, and the stupid apple that fell on his head.

pair -› sim jaeyun/jake x reader | genre -› fluff fluff fluff | trope -› friends to lovers, roommates to lovers

wc -› 4.8k

cw -› god the pining oh the pining oh you are oblivious.. how to lose a guy in 10 days minor spoilers!

a/n -› oopsie!! i fear jake in glasses has me in a trance. HES SOOO simpy

© all rights are reserved to mygnolia 2024. republished, translated, and/or heavily referenced work will be reported and removed immediately.

law one: any object that is put in motion will stay in motion until another force has acted on it. also dubbed as inertia!

jake does not know jealousy until he finds out the upcoming plan to check out the new ice cream shop together is canceled, all because kim sunoo is ‘cute,’ and you want to repay him for helping you in your communications class. he could have done the same thing! maybe he wouldn’t have been alone on the last saturday of this month if he reached out. he’s never been alone on this day. to be fair, you’ve done this only a handful of times, the limit reaching the number of fingers he has on one hand, but still! jake scowls and curses whoever kim sunoo is for stealing you away from him, even if sunoo has the brightest smile and the caring attentiveness jake wishes he himself had.

jake mopes on the couch, rewatching ‘friends’ until you come back, with a small smile gracing your oh-so-pretty face. he immediately springs up, helping you with your coat and asking where you’ve been, even if he knows.

“i was with sunoo.” you respond simply. He drills you with questions, laced with concern but hidden with a curiosity that could only stem from his feelings for you. “we went out to eat something small, and had some ice cream, that’s all. I was fine, don’t even worry- he drove me home and waited until i texted him anyway.” jake feels his role by your side becoming smaller, and he takes a slow breath, hoping that with his exhale goes the negative feelings he has about being competition. 

“we were supposed to watch how to lose a man in ten days.” he complains, and you laugh, his voice sounding dejected. you shove him towards your bedroom, telling him that there’s still time to watch one of your favorite films of all time. 

“but you’re tired.” he takes a step closer, examining the way your eyes lose energy as the day goes on as an eventual sign of your dwindling social battery. 

“doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch with you.” you retort, opening your bedroom door and setting up the movie on your laptop. his eyes shine with worry as he carefully watches how you move. the way your feet drag, how you slowly thumb through a set of pajamas, and the look you give when you need to change.

but if jake is anything, he is weak- and to spend more time with you, his darling girl, is his kryptonite. 

you both slip under the sheets, and it’s something he convinces himself is normal when you first started becoming roommates. when you were first told about how your friend knew someone who’d be a perfect roommate, you weren’t expecting jake, but he assured you that jake has always been an angel, and if anything happens, for you to give him a call or text immediately. it was never necessary, and your friend was right, jake proved to be a perfect roommate as time went on. 

albeit, maybe a little too perfect, because with the way you’re resting on his shoulder and with the gentle way he combs through your hair, you wonder if it’s all in typical roommate fashion. you fall asleep before you can wonder if the way he pulls you closer, shutting off the lights and shutting your laptop is all in the guide to be a good roommate, or if he’s doing these things because he’s reading a different guide;

the guide to making the roommate- the same one you’ve had a crush on- your girlfriend.

you wake up to your laptop shut on your table, and the knot in your neck helps you realize you fell asleep in the wrong position. when you come out of the bathroom, you see jake buttering toast and cutting up the strawberries you begged him to buy at the market a week ago. you both hope that no mold has grown on them. 

“how did you sleep?” he asks, plopping a strawberry in his mouth. you shrug, still trying to stretch out the tight feeling in your muscles. 

“here,” he motions, a piece of toast between his lips as he walks up behind you. you know how attentive jake is to the little things, and the gentle way he presses at the junction of your shoulder blade and neck only proves your beliefs further. you always have appreciated him for the silent way he cares, and now, more than ever. the crunch of his toast as he momentarily pauses makes you laugh, turning around as he also smiles as he eats. you reach up, wiping the crumbs from his lips, and his eyes follow the movement without fail. he’s not sure how you two were so close, and how the white winter sun makes you look so angelic, but he doesn’t move out of place until you’re out of sight, thanking him for the slice of toast as you leave to get ready for the day. 

he thinks that things have been the same for both of you, but suddenly, something changes his course, and his heart thumps in his ears, as if it’s possible that he’s fallen for you more. 

the second time you have to rain check is finals- and he gets it, truly. your psychology class isn’t going to pass itself, and yet, his heart sinks like an anchor at sea when you pout and show him the 89 term quizlet you’re forced to study for the upcoming week. 

“I really wish i could-“ you promise, genuine remorse in your gaze (and yes, jake’s forgiven you immediately). “I tried to study last night at the library to make sure we could finish queen of tears, but god, i feel like i know nothing.” jake understands with a silent nod, and does his best to put your feelings first. “after my final, i’ll be off- plus, you have your calculus final tomorrow morning anyways, right?” internally, jakes eyes turn into hearts, melting at the way you remember. 

“multivariable calculus, yes, at 10.” he sighs, dreading the imminent test but confident in his ability to pass. he sighs, scrolling through his calendar despite there being no assignments due. 

“if i help you out, can we watch after your final?” you swivel from your chair to face him lounging on your bed. he’s in a white t-shirt and jeans, an obvious outside outfit on your sheets. you glare at him, but don’t say anything. 

still, the proposition interests you. “how are you even going to help me out?” 

“i took this class last year, remember?” 

right. “why would you even want to? psych’s like- not your cup of tea at all.” 

jake responds without thinking, “i don’t mind it if it means we can spend time together.” 

you both freeze, and the comfortable conversation stills. you spin back around, picking at the corner of your paper, nervously trying to find a deeper meaning in his words. “okay.” you mumble, and jake doesn’t take your change in disposition to heart, more worries over how you’ll perceive him if he’s too clingy. 

“and,” he adds, standing up from your bed. “i want to see what happens. we need to finish the drama- the episode came out three days ago, and i think if i keep seeing edits, i’m going to say ‘fuck it’ and watch it myself.” 

without turning around, you snort. “yeah, yeah. you would never watch an episode without me there.” 

and you’re right, painfully so. jake closes your door, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

the next day, he keeps his promise, dragging you to his room to find a scraggly pile of handwritten psych assignments you’re confused as to why he even has. when you voice your concerns for his paper hoarding, he shrugs, retorting how it helps you regardless. 

you lean against his blue pillows, crossing your legs as he sits back in his chair and asks you questions. 

he reads off another question, pausing before letting you know it’s incorrect. “mmm, not really.” he tells you, glancing up. he leans over, pointing to the part in the textbook he’s been using as studying material, and you hear the tiredness in his voice with how low he speaks. jake is gentle; the way he looks at you understanding the text is no different, and his heart thuds painfully against his ribcage. he continues, no matter how much he wants to go to sleep, and by the time he’s finished explaining everything you’ve missed (which wasn’t even much) you both cheer to realize you’ve finished slide 89/89. you jump up from his bed, wrinkling his bedsheets as you envelope him in a tight hold. 

“thank you.” you tell him sincerely, arms looped around his neck as jake is quick to hug you back. you feel his head rest on your shoulder, and your heart warms with adoration. 

“of course, ____.”

you pause, thinking about whether or not you should still continue with your plans. “you’re tired.” you state the obvious. “and I don’t want to watch something if you need to go sleep.” 

he rolls his eyes, motioning to you to scoot over so he can join you. “we always do this on a saturday so we can sleep in on sunday.” he comments, getting his laptop. you shake your head.

“it’s different, jake. this time, you’re tired and I don’t want to wake you up to make you brush your teeth or whatever.” he hears the playful lilt in your voice, and scoffs. 

“you just don’t want to watch with me anymore!” he accuses, cracking a smile as he shoves you.

with widened eyes, you shake your head, teasing him about how he jumps to conclusions so quickly. “i would never, jake.” you meet his gaze with sincerity. “i love to spend time with you. always.” 

if things stay in motion like this, without any rain checks or ice cream dates, jake thinks he likes this course of inertia much better- just you and him. 

law two: force = mass x acceleration

to simply put it, jake sleeping in your bed will suffocate you sooner or later. despite being very smart, jake doesn’t realize that muscles means added mass, and the more he works out, the higher the chances of you dying from the incapability to breathe. 

it starts with jake asking if he can sleep beside you, since the heater never reaches his room despite said room being a grand nine feet away from yours. you highly doubt his excuse, but you choose not to find out if it really is the cold abyss your roommate swears it is. he also tells you that he likes your light blue sheets with daisies on it, which is something that seems pretty plausible, and you’re swayed by his earnest compliments. when you asked why, a question spoken into the dark of your room, jake immediately responded by telling you that the holidays are the perfect time to grab a buddy and spread the holiday cheer. with a shove at his shoulder, he defends himself, saying that he wakes up earlier than you, so you wouldn’t have to even worry about seeing him in the morning. 

that last part was true, jake was always extremely efficient with his time, and it meant you were sometimes waking up to a pan dropping in the kitchen during his kitchen ventures. but today? he seemed to be the opposite. 

when the sun shines high in the sky, with your clock reading a time past 10am, you finally wake up. trying to brush the hair out of your face, you really start to pay attention to the way his breath fans your shoulder blade, and how almost half of his body weight was on top of yours. you were both people who enjoyed skinship, and your friendship was solid enough where you knew you weren’t uncomfortable, but it was the surprise of ending up entangled with someone who, last night, refused to get closer out of personal space. 

“jake.” you call, tapping his shoulder. you can barely move, shuffling around as you watch him shuffle around under the sheets, his hands wandering to pull you closer. “jake!” 

you don’t get much time to really admire him like his. his hair, all messy, had been undoubtedly better the more it grows out, and you’ve seen him put it in a ponytail- a new style that maybe you liked more than you’d like to admit. his bangs rest on the planes of his cheekbones, and you suck in a breath at how effortlessly angelic he looks in the morning sun. 

truth be told, it brings you comfort to know how he subconsciously trusts you to scoot closer and eventually cling to you in his sleep. 

jake’s eyes flutter open, and he slowly blinks without registering how close you are. you make eye contact, and your lazy stare flutters to closed eyes as you get comfortable on your pillow. yes, jake makes it a little hard to breathe, but in the end, it’s not that bad. 

“i thought you said you wake up early.” you comment. jake swats at your face lightly, and a giggle escapes as you fight his hand. “it’s the holidays.” he says, a poor excuse as to why he hasn’t gotten up. he looks at you again, taking in your mock annoyance and smiling. “let me hold you, yeah?” he mumbles absentmindedly, still half consumed by the morning lethargy. 

  your heart skips a little, and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you try not to let jake’s sleepy comments get to you. he doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself, but his sleepy words are sober thoughts, and you try not to think about the deeper meaning. jake has the brightest smiles and the kindest of hearts, so much so that it makes his hugs warm and his comfort like a cozy embrace. and you really really try not to think about what he’s saying, because jake cares for all of his friends, so much so that his words are always filled to the brim with love. and despite knowing all of this, despite knowing that jake is one of the best wonderful people you know, you can’t help but think about if it were romantic, if you two barely crossed the boundary to be just a little more. plus, you’re basically there. it’s in the way no boy comes up to you, not because you’re not wanted, but because everyone assumes that the boy with the australian accent and arm around your shoulder is the love of your life; and everyone says you look at him that way. it’s in the way he texts you to come back to the apartment because it’s empty without you, or the way he’s currently falling back asleep on your shoulder, his arm secured around your waist. and you refuse to believe that it’s anything more than friendship. you’re almost positive he feels the same, but still, somewhere inside of your heart yearns for it not to be true. 

your rapidly beating heart accelerates, and if you two weren’t friends, it’d be like you were forced to fall in love with jake. 

before you leave for the holidays, you promise jake one more movie, as a make-up for the few days you two weren’t able to properly finish your movie nights. finally, it’s time to watch ‘how to lose a guy in ten days.’ 

“it’s not even a christmas special.” jake says as you type in the pirated site. you roll your eyes, elbowing the nearest part of him. 

“it doesn’t have to be a christmas movie. you can’t even name a good christmas rom-com!” 

he racks his brain, truly trying to find a movie that lives up to the expectations of one of the best rom-coms to exist. “fine. i guess we can watch this movie then.” and he pulls the blanket up in retaliation. you turn to him with a scowl, but he pretends not to notice. 

when the movie starts playing, you make an effort to snatch his phone away, leaving it on your bedside as his attention diverts to the illuminated screen. “you’re going to love it.” you say offhandedly, watching how kate hudson and matthew mcconaughey immerse themselves in their roles. 

you turn to jake, making sure he’s thoroughly paying attention. 

“what?” he grins, his arm wrapping around you to rest on your waist. “I’m watching, don’t worry.” 

you click the space bar. “tell me what happens, then.” you raise an eyebrow, waiting to hear his perfect retelling of the film so far. 

“well, her fake therapist friend tells them to go meet his family, and everyone loves her off the get go. They play that card game and everyone helps her cheat, but she finds out that he’s never taken a girl home before. thinking about it, they were definitely in love with each other from the start. like, the way he looks at her in that entire movie! trust me, they’re in love.” 

“oh,” you turn, a teasing smile on your features. “and you’re a love expert?” 

jake suddenly losing focus on the movie, looking at the way you wait for his answer. he’s breathless, licking his lips nervously as he sends you a quick nod. “i know what it looks like to be in love.” he responds plainly when he returns his attention to the screen, his hand around your waist suddenly feeling clammy. 

you hum, glancing over to your right again. “and what does that look like?” 

the way I look at you. he thinks. instead, he shrugs. “like they hold the world in their hands.” 

your eyes sparkle, interested in his answer but too invested in the film to press further. 

“cliche.” and you’re awfully aware of the hand that rests against the fabric of your shirt, left to wonder if this is what it means to be in love. 

when the finale finishes and the screen fades to black, you let the end credits roll to tell him about your thoughts. sentences that start with “to be honest” followed with something strongly worded, and sentences praising certain scenes reach his ears as he listens quietly. your gaze never leaves the screen as you collect your thoughts, and your head never leaves his shoulder. when your roommate doesn’t add on, you look up at him, and from the shift, jake turns to make eye contact with you. “what?” he says softly.

“you didn’t say anything.” you almost whisper. the enchanting glow of the laptop screen makes his small chuckle just a little bit more attractive, and for yet another time, you glance at his lips, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“i answered you earlier.” he whines, rubbing his eye. 

“doesn’t count.” he cracks a smile at your bickering, and sighs. 

“i agree with everything you have to say, princess. always have.” your stomach stirs, butterflies rustling around as you make it obvious how much you’ve been staring at his lips. “what’s wrong, angel?” he plays oblivious as he shifts so you two are facing each other. your eyes are drooped, the sleep making you slip into new and equally as dangerous territory. the corner of his lip pulls into a charming smile, and you feel your heartstrings tug so badly with the rapid of your rushing heart. you glance back at him, meeting his warm gaze before shifting a little closer. 

and maybe jake’s hand immediately tightens at your waist, and maybe his eyes flutter shut as his other hand cups your jaw. and maybe, as the cliche song plays over a rolling list of names in the background, you kiss your best friend- the feeling leaving your heart jumping and your ears hot. your hands reach up, your thumb tracing his cheek as he pulls you closer. you pull back, eyes shining with content and so many unspoken feelings, and he looks at you, full of love. and you realize that this is what he means- that andie anderson and ben barry may have just been acting, but the smile he gives you is anything but. 

you giggle, pulling him back to kiss him just once more- or maybe twice, and you’re selfish in the way you hold him, wanting of him all to yourself. 

and maybe, just maybe, jake sim likes you back.

law three: every action has an equal opposite reaction. 

yes, every action has an equal and opposite reaction; so it hangs as an unspoken truth in the sky that jake likes you as much as you do- but you never took physics, and you leave the apartment early the next morning. it’s saturday, yes, and all of your finals were done, but you usually always stay for just a bit longer, relishing in the winter air before detangling yourself with college and finally heading back home. the university holds an ice skating event for free around this time anyways, and in the few years that you two have been roommates, you’ve dragged him along with you. you were nothing like his somewhat skilled friends, but jake still reveled in your smiles and shaky yelps every time you were off balance. 

off-balance. that’s how things were. 

you haven’t responded to his texts, and he’s stuck pacing around the kitchen wondering what he could’ve done wrong. you leave every text unanswered, and a voicemail for every call. 

nonetheless, jake tries again- desperate.

“hi-“ you say, in a breathless fleeting manner. “i’m busy-“

“no ___, you can’t just kiss me-“ the line ends, and you feel your heart beat fast again, like how it does every time you think about that december night. 

on the other line, jake lets out another sigh, his heart twisting with worry. it’s an ugly and unexplainable feeling truly, how he’s worried you’ve toyed with his heart, but how if you kissed him again, it would soothe any wrinkles in his timeline- and that all his feelings would go back to being in love, and he’d be okay with it. jake would rewrite the stars, hanging the moon in the sky and undoing everything if it meant going back to then, with his palm pressed against your skin, his lips on yours, and his heart nestled within your hands, bound to whatever fate you would give him. and you know this about him, you know that jake would run around the world to find love from you, and you couldn’t treat him like that. there was no way you and jake were to work out, and while you’ve convinced yourself of this, jake on the other hand is desperate to read between the lines, finding himself going insane the more he lays there in the early AM thinking about what all of this means. he wishes he could redo it- so he could experience it just once more, and so he could understand where it went wrong. jake refuses to let you go- at least, not yet. 

despite your efforts to avoid him for the week of christmas and new years, you felt your heart break the longer you left his message unopened, and responded with a sincere ‘happy holidays. stay warm, jake.’ he opens up the text, his heart still doing that weird thing where it uncomfortably beats, with excitement and disappointment all in the same vein. 

and it’s like that for winter break- confused or at least until you come back a week early. you had plans on keeping a small tree in your apartment to add to the holiday spirit even after the holidays, and the box for the tree plus the ornaments had already been stowed away in your room. there’s no way he’s here- he lives hours from campus, and without any new year plans, you’re sure you’ll have the place to yourself. 

you don’t check his location, too consumed to make the drive back to even notice his room has minuscule sound coming from it. the door stays shut, and without any gaps to really see any light, you don’t pay any mind in checking if there’s a sudden intruder. 

the christmas tree slowly gets put together, and you sit with yourself as a show plays on the TV, quiet. it’s as if to not disturb the ambience, and you feel the cinnamon and cold settle within your bones when you throw out some of the plastic packaging. 

“you’re here.”

the cold from your quick excursion, added with the sudden confrontation makes your blood run cold, unable to tear your gaze from the blinking LEDs on the fake evergreen tree you’ve put up. 

“yeah, i guess so.” you say, unable to really conjure anything else up. you refuse to look him in the eye, afraid you’ll be faced with indisputable anger, resentment, and the confusion, the same feelings you had when at your own home. you’re afraid that the way you hate yourself for leaving so abruptly, and to ruin such a good thing, is the reason why jake suddenly doesn’t want you back anymore. that- because of your inability to accept that you love someone who’s so out of your league, you’ve let a good thing fizzle out. 

there’s no cold in the apartment- the heater already being set to a cozy temperature, and yet the goosebumps on your skin prove otherwise. it’s biting, chilly almost, the way you both stand there, unsure of what to say. 

it’s uncomfortable, and the silence leaves a hopeless feeling in your chest; one that screams that you two truly weren’t as meant to be as you thought. 

“why?” he breathes.

“why..why what?”

“why’d you leave after all that happened?” 

your eyes widen, scrambling your brain to find a lie to give before you give up, opting to simply tell the truth. you’ve hurt him once by leaving, an action that you truly have no excuse for. it’s winter, you lie to yourself. you rehearse in your head to tell him that you missed your family, and couldn’t wait to go home. it’s all lies, and jake’s no more than a polygraph test in human form. you couldn’t live with yourself if you lost him over a lie.

plus, you couldn’t lie to him- not after all the hurt. 

“jake-“ you say hurriedly. “you’re everything, you’re perfect, you deserve more than me. you deserve more to a girlfriend than a roommate who rushes to pay rent, someone who doesn’t leave curling irons on in the bathroom, a girlfriend who doesn’t phone you at night because she doesn’t have anyone else. you don’t need someone to rely on you the way i just do-“

“maybe loving you is the worst decision anyone could ever make. maybe, yeah, i don’t deserve you walking out, avoiding me for two weeks, missing my messages, calls, or notes. maybe i could do better.” he starts, and you feel your heart sinking, knowing that it’d be for the better if it wasn’t you, but wishing so desperately that it could be. “maybe that’s the case, but i’m never going to be happy if i keep looking for better. I don’t hate you because you almost burned down the building, or if you stressed out about rent, and all of these other things that i can’t even remember we talked about.” jake lets out a dry chuckle, trying to remember anything bad about you, but falling short. “the point is, ____, that you can’t make that decision for me. what’s the point in trying to find more when all i’ve ever wanted is you?” 

his eyes scan your expression, desperate for an answer as the quiet prolongs. the fresh tears that make way to your eyes springs him into action, and he’s quick to use his long sleeve to pat away your tears. “shh, don’t cry, angel. it’s okay, i understand.” his words replace the icy feeling in your body, and replaces it slowly with the hope that things really are as okay as he says they are. you nod, hugging him as apologies and explanations fall from your lips. 

“i still have feelings for you.” he promises, and his words envelop you in comfort and solace. it teeters between like and love, unable to have ever gotten as close as couples do, but also knowing it’s so much more than a small crush on a roommate. there’s nothing temporary about how he rests his head on top of yours, holding you close as you ramble. 

“just don’t do anything of the sort again.” he asks, looking at you with adoration. “please.” 

your heart breaks a little, and you make a promise to never treat him the way you did, feeling foolish and horrible for what you had done. “i promise.” you nod. and give him a tight hug. 

and things are in balance once again. if every reaction had an equal and opposite reaction, it means that you and jake sim have fallen for each other with equal amounts of force, and wouldn’t have it any other way. 

--

WE FINISHEDDDD CHATTTTTTTTTTT YERP YERP YERP WHO CHEERED!! first real enha fic in AGES god save us all.

[m30wk1ttycat]

tough love

contains: teenagers being teenagers, cuss words, dirty thoughts, kissing, enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption mentions, smut ig?, getting caught sort of. pairing: newt x reader. summary: you're a med-jack. its almost impossible to ignore newt, always lingering somewhere in the corner of your eye. you hate him, or so it seemed. he hated that, so he decided to confront you about it, maybe force an answer out of you. word count: 1500, give or take.

you and newt had a bit of a rivalry going on. or at least, it seemed like it was rivalry of sorts.

"y/n."

"no," you murmur, trying to assemble some papers and whatever else it was that was on the table.

"please," he pleaded, leaning on the doorway.

"no."

this was just one of you guys' average conversations. you trying to do your job as a med-jack, newt trying to help you with whatever you were doing.

"are you sure?" he asked, still insisting on helping. you'd think he was in love with you or something - which wouldn't be too far off the truth, in all honesty.

"positive," you say, looking up at him from your place at the desk.

he was just so infuriating, persistent on helping with anything you did. everyone in the glade thought that it was just newt being sweet, but you were almost sure it had much more reason to it.

almost.

bandaging chuck's sprained ankle, he just had to walk in.

"need help?"

you roll your eyes in silence.

"thanks, but i'm good right now," you say, smiling. a smile so fake, even you couldn't recognize yourself. a smile you had to keep on your face for the sake of chuck. he was basically your little brother, why make it obvious you hated newt with all the strength you had?

"right," he muttered under his breath. finishing up chuck's ankle, you and chuck head out, completely ignoring his presence in the doorway.

"see you, then.."

"see ya, newt."

it didn't get any better when thomas arrived. the bonfire ended up being a mess to say the least. thomas got his ass beat by gally. and who tended to him? you. jeff had a headache that morning, hungover. clint overslept and skipped the entire bonfire last night. it was odd, because who would want to miss a bonfire night?

newt and thomas both got to the med hut/med-jack hut (i don't even know what to call it anymore). newt was there just to explain what happened, but it wasn't like you weren't aware. you were also there, after all. getting drunk and chatitng with the runners and the jeff, talking shit about the clumsy gladers who stumbled into the circle, who then got their faces bashed in by gally. it was bonfire night. you normally wouldn't even attempt to spark up a conversation with the guys who were most often in the med hut, unless they were injured and you had to take care of their injuries. no one was acting like themselves. but it was bonfire night, yay!!

"geez," you say as you sit him down, newt staring at you from across the room. "he didn't go easy on you, did he?"

and he, indeed, did not. he had several cuts on his forehead from falling, a busted lip and a bruised forehead.

"guess not," thomas shrugged, not wincing or anything. he kept calm, as calm as he could manage to be.

as you clean up the cuts and scrapes and whatnot, you could almost feel newt's eyes burn holes into your back. ignoring that feeling, you were done. thomas got up, smiling. you say your goobyes and thank yous, newt glaring daggers.

just as thomas left, smile still on your face, it quickly faded once you basically got body slammed by newt against a wall.

"why do you hate me?" he asked, frowning. "and don't say that you don't, we both know that's not true."

"newt," you breathe out.

"what is it that i'm doing wrong?" he was being harsh and he knew it. maybe pushing you and pinning you against a wall wasn't exactly his most isaac newton idea? "answer me."

you look away. the result of that? newt pressing you against the wall even harder, your wrists above your head, held together by his hand, his other leading your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"look at me. y/n."

"i am."

it wasn't like you had much of a choice anyways. he pressed his hips to yours, still waiting for an answer. he wanted you to say something. anything, really. just something to prove you weren't dead or slowly passing. though, his hopes were crushed when you stuttered your words.

he let out a breath, leaning his head down right above your shoulder.

"don't be so difficult, there's no need," he said, harshly so. he waited for you to react, only to be met with a small whine coming from your lips as you tried to free yourself. it was no use, he knew that, you should've, too.

your faces mere inches away.

"let me make this clear," he breathed, his lips inches from you, close enough to feel his hot breath on your skin. "i like you, y/n."

he liked you?

HE LIKED YOU??

he glared at you as affectionately as he could, trying hard not to seem like a bitch with the way he was holding you, smushed between him and the wall.

just like in every book, movie, fanfiction - the tension was there. the chemistry was there. the moment was there. the sparks, the butterflies, the way it felt like you were the only two in the world at that moment.

with a grunt, you tilt your head up to look at him, struggling to even talk with his hips propped up against your own, harshly so. "newt," you breathed, "i don't hate you."

"sure you don't," he said, furrowing a brow at you. he kept your wrists above your head, as much as you wished he'd let go. and the harshness of his hips against yours wasn't easing up. at all.

you roll your eyes, trying to look away to hide the blush on your cheeks, but his hand on your chin stopped you before you could even blink, his hand holding both of your wrists captive.

"if you don't hate me, why do you ignore me?"

you let out a whine, "ow-"

he tilted his head to the side, letting go of your wrists. he looked away, smirking. "sorry 'bout that."

he wasn't sorry and you knew that. he wasn't sorry. not one bit..

he also knew that.

and he also knew you couldn't just back away. literally - he had you pinned to a wall in the med hut, where probably anyone with a medical problem could walk in. anytime, too.

"you're making it hard for me to do my job.."

and it wasn't the only thing hard in the room, if you catch my drift. wink wink.

"so what?"

you're almost sure that he's just doing this rile you up, make you hate him even more, when deep down, it only made you want to fuck the life out of his pretty face even more than before. (meow)

"y/n, i love you. more than anything and anyone in this shucking place, really," he confessed.

"i love you too," you mumble under your breath, barely coherent enough for him to hear.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes, trying to seem as annoyed as he could. as much as he tried, the smile forming on his face failed him.

"shut up, i love you more." he pushed your hips back with his a bit. a deep brown gaze, pupils blown wide, he whispered something along the lines of "i'm getting sick of this". and before you could even process what he said, his lips met your in a passionate kiss. his lips tasted like fresh strawberries, a small hint of the moonshine from lat night during the bonfire. maybe he was still a tiny bit drunk, maybe not, but that didn't stop you two from making out in the med hut.

needy, sloppy kisses. hickeys on your neck here and there. newts hips rock, slowly, teasingly, against your own, the friction between you making for delightful shivers rushing through his body. his hands find purchase in your hips, pressing you harder against him as he sucked dark blotches onto your neck. you could feel the growing bulge against your inner thighs. desperately, he kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip. still, he was gentle. or at least trying to be.

how could he kiss you so fiercely yet so gently? was it the british charm?

whatever it was, you couldn't get enough of it. your mind couldn't either. it was concerning, how long he could go like this, sucking and nibbling at your neck like a snack.

too busy kissing him, you didn't notice minho in the doorway, waiting for you or just anyone to notice him. he stood there for a minute, eyes wide as he watched the second-in-command, his best friend, make out with you, the only available (not really anymore) med-jack.

he cleared his throat awkwardly. "y/n," he called, "gonna pay attention to your patients or what?"

whoops, awkwaaaaaaard..

[xxsycamore]

❝ The Benefits of Having a Scientist Boyfriend ❞ (ISAAC X READER)

╰┈➤ 💝 Isaac surprises you with a loving gesture that will also greatly relieve your pain.

Isaac Newton x Menstruating!Reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Established Relationship; Fluff • wordcount: 965 • masterlist

a/n: The author is very bad at every field of science mentioned in this fic and still stubbornly made all of the needed research (plus historical research to see how possible it is for our Isaac to put this together in his current time era) while fighting cramps of her own..... Hope you enjoy and also I hope I didn't get my facts (too) wrong! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian, Arthur (NSFW), Vincent 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than halfway done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appears as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly, moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

You weren't aware that your inner cry for help was able to send telepathic signals to your boyfriend, but you witness the miracle of him entering through the door in the very next second.

"Isaac!" You rise to a seating position as the sight of him briefly distracts you from your pain - a big mistake on your part, but before you can ask him what brings him here, the next cramp stabs you in the guts and only a painted sound leaves your lips. "Oww…"

"Are you alright? You were curled up on the couch too."

You've already instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly and it doesn't escape Isaac's gaze, but you still pretend to be brave about it and refuse to bother him with such a minor inconvenience of yours…

"Maybe I just ate something funny at lunch? You know how it is with Sebas and his fusion cuisine, always trying to live up to everyone's taste, haha…"

Isaac stares blankly at you for a couple of seconds, then he averts his eyes.

"You can just tell me if your period came, you know…"

Was it that obvious?! Maybe Isaac just knows you well enough by now - the thought brings forth a certain warmth within you… no, that's just another cramp.

"Oww owww… fine, you guessed it… Don't scold me, I'll go look for some herbal tea in the kitchen or-"

"No, lie back down." Isaac's unexpected touch changes the focus of your sensory receptors again and your heart flutters by the simple action of him beckoning you to lie down. You oblige, looking at him with large eyes full of curiosity.

"I was just about to go out for today's école lessons but let me bring you something first. Just lie here and be patient, okay? It's going to feel better soon."

Your curiosity only grows as you watch Isaac's back until he fully disappears from sight.

***

When your boyfriend returns you're overcome with the need to sit up and see what he's carrying in his hands, but you follow his advice and remain patient.

"Some time ago when your cramps were bad like that I asked you how you dealt with them back in your era. Since then I have been, uh, working on something. I figured now would be a good time to try it out."

You blink in disbelief when Isaac hands you what looks like a… heating pad, the ones that are typically used as handwarmers in your time.

"You'll have to massage it in order for it to radiate heat, but I hope that still works for you."

"Isaac you- but how-"

"It's nothing too complex. When I heard your explanation I figured it must be caused by an exothermic reaction… I happen to be knowledgeable in thermodynamics too, you know. I just had to put a supersaturated solution of sodium acetate in water together with notched ferrous metal… Simply put, it crystalizes and radiates heat. I'm still catching up with chemistry after beginning my second life here but fortunately, it was easy enough."

Easy enough, he says…

You can't just lie still anymore, so you raise your upper half enough to wrap your arms around Isaac's shoulders… you didn't plan it out exactly like that, but the physicist ends up being dragged down on the couch with you, barely able to prop himself up on one elbow at the very last second. You keep sobbing into his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so touched by your gesture! I've read about so many invitations that came out of love and-"

Isaac blushes, and he blushes badly. You see the color spreading on his cheeks when he withdraws just a tad more to leave you space to breathe, but he doesn't stand to his feet just yet.

"I guess you can call it that. I'll just be happy as long as it works for you."

Isaac punctuates his words with a chaste caress on the back of your hand which still holds the innovative heating pad. His own warmth leaves you too soon but the artificial one remains - and you find yourself wondering if you can treat it as a reminder of him, when you miss him. Maybe you should tell him that, next time you want to see his cheeks reddening like that again.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you fall asleep on isaac's shoulder while he's working.

WARNINGS: none!!! :D

COMMENTS: ASGHFDHSAGD THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR IKEVAMP!!!!! i literally adore isaac sosososososo much he is so cute :((( I HOPE I WROTE HIM WELL!!!! :D

OH YEA tagging @dove-da-birb because i think you said you wante dto be tagged ahgsdhas

The weight of their head on Isaac’s shoulder snaps him out of the concentrated trance he’d found himself in. He turns his head, slowly and with bated breath, and feels his cheeks flush bright red at the sight that greets him. Sure enough, they’d fallen asleep on him. He should probably wake them up, he thinks, but as they breathe softly and their chest rises and falls and he watches, he’s not thinking much at all.

He couldn’t understand why they’d insisted on accompanying him for his late-night research session when they had other things to do. There was no reason to do so since he’d gotten by completely fine on his own, but they hadn’t backed down. Isaac was notoriously weak to them anyways—anyone in the mansion knew he would have said yes no matter what. They had a way of making him feel calm, like his existence wasn’t torture, like he didn’t constantly make mistakes and misunderstand the people around him.

They were quite the paradox. They laid themselves out to him like an open book, and yet he couldn’t read much of the words. Over the weeks they’d known each other, he’d learned how, but most of the pages were filled with jumbled words he didn’t understand and beautiful pictures he couldn’t interpret. And yet they were never a cruel teacher. They were the most patient person he’d ever met, guiding his hands across the gold-lined pages and helping him sound out the words that lead him through the paths of their heart. Sometimes, the words he found helped him find the way through his own heart. It was undoubtedly a beautiful thing, and although it was void of the equations he’d depended on his whole life, Isaac found himself less frightened by the day.

They would never hurt him. They treated him far too gently for that. Always there with a kind word and a nod when he began to ramble, always there to tell his housemates to knock it off with their teasing but often teasing him themselves, always there to hold his hand and ask him if he needed a hug at the end of the day. They prepared him tea on nights when he couldn’t sleep, too focused on his research and knowing he’d pass out at his desk and wake up with a blanket draped across his shoulders. There would be a little note scribbled out resting on top of his stack of papers, signed with their name and letting him know that they’d be bringing him breakfast in the late morning.

He wishes he had the courage to do the same for them. It was one of the many things about them he found adorable and one of the many things he would never admit to thinking about them.

“Do you think of me the way I think of you?” he murmurs to them, although they are fast asleep. Of course, they do not answer.

The ticking of the watch he fixed just for them echoes in the silence he leaves.

“If I asked you to stay...if I was selfish enough to ask that of you...would you comply? Would you fulfill my wish?” Isaac’s voice is impossibly softer, the yearning in his aching heart betrayed by the wobbling of his words.

They don't belong here. He knows this. They belong back in their world, where they have a family and friends and a life. He isn’t a natural part of who they are, even if he wishes he could grow to be. He wants to be part of what they want so badly, but that’s not possible. He’d only hurt them. And even if they say they trust him over and over, he does not trust himself. They are precious to him, someone he wants to protect more than anything—and to lose them now would destroy him.

His eyes flick back to his forgotten work, and he sighs. Raking his hand through his hair, he picks back up his pen and starts to write again. Their head on his shoulder burns through his shirt. He can feel their warmth. His hand shakes as it scribbles out an equation, and his cheeks still burn a fiery red. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip and bouncing his leg so fiercely he almost bangs his knee on the wood, but he doesn’t stop.

Do they have any idea how serious this is? Isaac could lose control of his hunger at any moment and hurt them just like he did before. His eyes flicker to their hand, and even though the bandages are gone, he still feels that stab of guilt. How do they feel safe enough with him to fall asleep near him? Even if it wasn’t on purpose, they should have left the second they were feeling tired. They should have bid him goodnight and patted his shoulder like they always did when they said goodbye and left him to his own devices. And yet they did not, because they are the strangest phenomenon he’s ever witnessed.

He loves them. He loves them like they strung up all the stars he loves to study in the sky, he loves them like they’re the only person he’ll ever know this well, he loves them like they’re the only person who would ever care for him even though they’d insist they’re not. He loves them like they’re everything and he knows there’s no way he could tell them that. He’s not good with words. He’s not good with affection.

And he is certainly not good with love.

Isaac turns back to them in what he wholeheartedly believes is a moment of weakness because they smell so nice and they look so at peace and—

They whisper his name.

A soft “Isaac” leaves their lips, and he stiffens at the sound. His face burns hotter now, his leg bounces more, his heart is pounding in his ears and his blood is rushing through his veins and—

He whips his head back towards his paper, intent on focusing on his work, only to see loopy scribbles of their name on his notes.

Gah, he needs to control himself.

Even when he wasn’t thinking, his body still yearned for them. How traitorous his hands were.

[celiastjamesoscar]

Wish I Knew You

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader, established relationship

Summary: Unofficial meant many things to people, but to college students it meant one thing: party. But unofficial takes a turn when you get into a fight, and Sam has to walk you home.

Warnings: swearing, destruction of property, breaking and entering, light mention of drugs, drinking

AN: based off of an idea I ‘stole’ from @p0rkbun, I love ya!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

“I know it’s unofficial, but please, you guys, be safe. Okay?” Sam pleaded as she looked at the group of kids before her. Technically, they weren’t kids, but in her eyes, most of them would still be those kids she used to babysit. Well, all of them but you.

You met Sam through Anika after she moved to New York, and you were instantly in love even though she wouldn’t even spare you a glance most of the time. Those big, brown eyes that held years of pain and agony brought you so much comfort whenever she would look at you. Her lips never smiled, so you made it your life mission to make her smile, even if it was just for a mere moment. And when you did make her smile after you went on a drunken tangent about how Isaac Newton deserved to die a virgin and how Dr. Pepper is the best soda, she knew that she was in too deep.

Dammit to hell with getting accepted into the best universities the country had to offer and all those scholarships you had received that paid for your schooling at Blackmore University. None of those things compared to the feeling you got in your chest when you saw that beautiful smile for the first time. It seemed like your entire world had stopped rotating and began to revolve around the single smile that didn’t last for more than three seconds, but it meant more to you than anything else.

After the night, the two of you grew closer, and after enough dinners together, you two started dating. It took you forever to break down all of Sam’s walls, but when you did, it was the most rewarding thing you had ever done. On late nights after she had worked a double, the only thing Sam wanted to do was come home and sleep. But when she pushed open her apartment door and saw you standing awkwardly in the hallway with a goofy grin on your lips and a bottle of wine, all the stress seemed to leave her body, being replaced with the need to be hold you.

You found it impossible to believe that people hated Sam: she was perfect in your eyes. Her soft, caring nature, whenever it was just the two of you, was something you couldn’t find anywhere else. Yes, Sam can be a bitch sometimes, but behind closed doors, she is putty in your hands. How she would sit next to you on the couch, softly tracing patterns on your thigh with her fingers, would make your chest flutter. When you two were in a group, she would always sit next to you- much to Tara’s disapproval, who is someone who doesn’t like sharing her sister- while placing a protective hand on your thigh.

The thoughts that ran around Sam’s mind were that she wished she knew you when she was young; maybe her life would be completely different. Perhaps she wouldn’t have started using drugs or ran away from home, but that’s all it was: what-ifs that might or might not have changed her life. Even though she wished for things to have been different, that she wished she would have met you at a different time, she was still glad that she had you in her life, and she refused to let you go any time soon.

So now, as you sit next to her sister getting ready to get plastered at frat parties for Halloween, Sam couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety crawling through her body.

“Yes, Sam, we promise to be safe. We will call you if you need anything,” Tara stated as she stood up from the couch, “Can we go now?”

With a small sigh, Sam closed her eyes and nodded her head. She just knew that allowing you guys to go out tonight would come back to bite her in the ass. “Please don’t drink too much,” Sam pleaded as she followed the group to the door, looking directly at you while she spoke, “I’m talking to you.”

You scoffed at your girlfriend’s accusation, “How dare you insinuate that I, of all people, would drink the most!”

“Because you will,” Mindy mumbled as she looked between you and Sam, unamused, “You always get out of hand when you drink.”

“No, I do not!” You shot back, but you knew arguing would get you nowhere.

Speaking up for the first time, Chad said, “Don’t worry, Sam. I will make sure that Y/N and Tara don’t drink too much; you have my word,” as he wrapped a loving arm around your shoulder.

With a small sigh, Sam nodded in defeat, “Alright, just be safe tonight, okay? No splitting up.” Before Sam could finish her sentence, Tara had shot up from the couch and left for the door. “Come on, you old people, the party’s not going to wait for us,” she exclaimed while opening the door and leaning against the door frame, tapping her foot with urgency.

The twins were quickly behind Tara, and when you went to follow, Sam grabbed your hand, “Hey, wait a minute.” When Sam spoke, the three noticed the way Sam’s dark eyes were pleading with you, so they decided to step out into the hallway to give the two of you some privacy.

“What’s up?” You asked with the softest smile that always made Sam’s knees weak. “Please, Y/N, be safe tonight. If you need anything, call me, okay?” The Latina asked as she gently placed her hands on your triceps, lovingly running her hands up and down.

“You know I will be, and I promise to call you if anything happens,” you replied while leaning forward, placing a soft kiss on top of Sam’s head, “Just think, this is a night to yourself. When was the last time you had that?”

Sam mumbled something underneath a breath that you missed. “I’m sorry, what was that?” You teased with a smile, watching as Sam rolled her eyes. “I said that I only enjoy my nights to myself when you are around,” the older girl admitted through clenched teeth.

“Damn, Sam. You can at least pretend to like me,” you joked with a small laugh.

“You know that I hate to admit these things, but you still make me do it.”

“You’re right! I love hearing my girlfriend give me constant affirmations about how much she loves me; it's the best!” You happily stated with a smile, and Sam laughed at your response.

“Whatever, just be safe tonight,” she said as her eyes looked you up and down, clearing having a distaste for your costume, “whatever the fuck you are.”

Naturally, you scoffed at her words, “I will have you know that I am one of the best historians out there.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Sam replied with a smile. It might not seem like much, but these small banters between the two of you were what she loved the most. She could be herself around you, and you would never judge her for it.

In the mood to be a smartass, you straightened your posture and pulled on your coat. You cleared your throat and began doing an impression of a Bolton accent, “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first-ever city, because I’m not. That’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.”

Sam stared at you blankly for several seconds before she shook her head, “You’re a fucking idiot, and I cannot believe you are going as that lady.”

“Excuse me, ‘that lady’ is Philomena Cunk, who is the best damn historian on this planet,” you defended while making your way to the front door, Sam following behind you, “And my costume is certainly the best.”

Sam hummed as she opened the front door, “Yeah because it's so hard to beat,” she quickly looked at the three standing out in the hallway, “a half-assed pirate, a scarecrow, and Jack Skellington.”

“Hey now, I’m a cowboy, not a scarecrow,” Chad replied with a bit of hurt. “She doesn’t care what you are. Now come on, we have a party to go to,” Mindy sat as she threw an arm around Tara the pirate and started walking down the hallway with Chad several paces behind them.

Before you followed them, you quickly kissed Sam’s lips. “I love you,” you mumbled against them, and Sam kissed your words.

“I love you too,” she replied while pulling away. You blew her kiss as you started to catch up with the group, and Sam felt her heart flutter at the small gesture. Words could not even begin to express the love she had in her heart for you, but she hoped that one day she might be able to tell you. She wanted to tell you how her entire being ached for your touch whenever you were away, and she hated watching you leave. But she simply settled for watching you leave with her younger sister, off to have the fun that was promised when you start college.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whenever someone tells you that college is supposed to be the time of your life, they are fucking wrong. Hours and hours of studying material that you must teach yourself because your professors are too incompetent to teach it while you still pay them thousands of dollars is not fun. There is nothing ideal about college, and you hated every single second of it, but the part you loved the most was your friends.

Of course, you had friends in high school, but none meant this much to you. You would readily lay down your life for Tara, just as you would the twins. So, that’s why for the first time since the semester started, you finally felt your shoulders loosen and stress leave your body, just for some dipshit in a mask to ruin it.

It all happened quickly, according to Chad. One minute, you were taking shots with Tara, then the next, you were on top of a random guy, beating him to a pulp. It took Chad and Mindy to pry you off the guy, yet you still fought against them, trying your hardest to get your hands on that fucker.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you slurred after Chad carried you out of the frat house, but as soon as he placed you on the floor, you tried to run back into the house. “Hey! Stop it!” He shouted, quickly grabbing you before you could make it up the front porch steps, “Sit down and breathe.” Your head was spinning, and you could barely stand, but you had to get your hands on that fucker.

Grumbling under your breath, you listened to the man and sat down on the grass as Tara came to sit by you. “What happened?” She asked while picking up your dominant hand, lightly tracing her fingers over your bloodied knuckles.

You didn’t want to worry Tara that the piece of shit man was saying false accusations about Sam; you knew it would ruin her night. So, you decided to lie. “He said that the only correct way to eat cereal is to pour the milk first, then the cereal.”

A small laugh came from Tara’s lips as she let go of your hand and pulled out her phone. “You know, I don’t know what’s worse: how crazy you defend cereal or that you nearly killed a man dressed up as Philomena Cunk.”

You chuckled beside her and sat in silence as you watched her call her sister, asking the older Carpenter to come pick you up. You felt bad for not being the one to call Sam, but you knew that if you called her, she would ask what happened, and you couldn’t lie to that sweet and kind woman. Those soft, dark eyes that smiled for her would break if you ever were to lie to her, and you couldn’t put her through that.

So, you sat in silence with the younger Carpenter as Chad and Mindy went back inside the frat house. Once they were out of earshot, Tara spoke up. “I know you lied to me.”

“About what?” You questioned, but you knew what she was talking about. “Tell me why you beat the shit out of that guy,” Tara pressed.

You shook your head and sucked in a deep breath, debating on if you should tell her or not. With a sigh, you down while speaking, “He was saying some shit about Sam, and I lost my cool. I’m sorry that I ruined your night.”

Several beats of silence passed before Tara grabbed your hand and interlaced her fingers with yours. “You know, When you and Sam first started dating, I was skeptical. You’re one of my closest friends, and Sam is my sister. But oh my god, after seeing how she looks at you, I knew that the two of you were meant to be. I’ve never seen Sam look at anyone the way she does with you and the way she smiles around you, Y/N. It's unbelievable; I’ve never seen her smile that much. What I mean to say is that Sam has a hard time with words, but that woman loves you so much. So thank you for defending her name because I know she would do the same thing for you,” Tara admitted with a soft smile, and before you could respond, the both of you saw a tall figure approaching you.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked with worry laced in her voice as soon as she got close enough to see your hand. She crouched beside you and took your hand out of Tara’s as she lightly traced her fingers over your knuckles, more worried about you than whoever you beat the shit out of.

“Your sweet, little Y/N who would never do any harm went apeshit on someone. It took both twins to pull her off of the poor guy,” Tara said as she stood from the ground and began walking into the house.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sam questioned while eyeing her sister, who didn’t even look behind her as she shouted, “Back to the party!”

You laughed as you watched the younger Carpenter disappear into the house, “she’s a little shit, isn’t she?” You joked as you looked back at Sam, who glared at you, “What?”

You knew it was terrible, but you couldn’t help but find Sam extremely attractive whenever she was angry; it was probably why you liked to piss her off so much.

The older girl huffed as she stood up, pulling you up with her as well. “Don’t ‘what’ me; you know exactly what I’m mad about,” she said as she grabbed one of your arms and threw it over your shoulder. You just shrugged, not wanting to argue with Sam over the reason for your fight.

“I’m not that drunk, Sam. I can walk by myself,” you declared, but once Sam let go of your arm so you could prove your point, gravity seemed to have a vendetta against you, causing you to begin swaying from side to side.

“Mhm, yeah. Come on,” Sam sighed as she grabbed your arm and threw it over her shoulder again.

Naturally, the entire walk back to the apartment, you complained about Sam not needing to carry you, but you would never admit that you enjoyed seeing this softer side of her.

“So,” Sam asked when you two got away from the frat house, “What happened?”

You shrugged as you continued walking, “The guy was saying false information about how to eat cereal properly. That’s all.”

Now, Sam wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t born yesterday. She knew when you were lying, and she knew that you were. In your relationship, Sam always knew that you would be truthful, and her heart began to break at the thought of things changing between the two of you. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help the anxiety at the idea of you no longer being honest with her.

As if you could sense her doubt, you spoke, “Sam, you know that I love you, right?” The Carpenter nodded her head, silently ushering you to continue. “Well, then you know that I would do anything to protect you, anything at all,” you proclaimed as you leaned over and placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

Several beats of silence passed as Sam was thinking about what you said. She knew that whatever happened between you and the dickhead was about the online controversies surrounding her, even though you didn’t say anything about it; she just knew.

A part of Sam felt guilty that you had the feeling of constantly needing to defend her name, which got you in a lot of trouble. But she also loved the idea of having someone who loved and cared for her enough to start fights over her, no matter how petty they were.

So, instead of asking you any more questions, Sam simply said, “I love you too,” and pulled you closer to her.

Falling into a comfortable silence, you walked for several minutes before you stopped dead in your tracks. “What the actual fuck is that?” You asked with a slight hint of venom in your voice.

You had stopped just outside a Barnes & Noble, glaring into the store’s display case. In that case, there was a small cardboard cutout of Gale Weathers, and behind her were copies of her notorious book that worsened Sam’s public image.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you unwrapped Sam’s arm from you and walked up the glass window, pushing on it but getting nowhere. “Y/N, come on. It’s closed, and you’re drunk,” Sam said as she gently grabbed your hand, but you shook it off.

Without saying a word, you walked to the side of the store to pick up a brick. Before Sam could stop you, you threw the brick through the window, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sam whisper-shouted as she tried to stop you from climbing into the store, but you were surprisingly strong in your intoxicated state. Once you entered the display area, you grabbed a signed copy of Gale’s book and ripped out several of the pages. You then began doing that to the rest of the books you could see, and once you were done, you moved to the cutout.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you pushed the cutout, causing it to fall, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fucking fuckass loser.”

Now, she knew it was terrible to be imagining this, but Sam couldn’t find it within herself to stop you from destroying Gale’s books. Truth be told, she wanted to join you, but she felt like you deserved to have this moment to yourself.

“I’ll fuck you up, little bitch,” you stated as you picked up the cutout and put it underneath your arm. “What are you doing?” Sam asked with a small laugh as she watched you carry the cardboard Gale Weathers from the store.

“Taking her home,” you slurred once you stepped onto the street, then you began walking toward Sam’s apartment. “Wrong way, dumbass,” Sam stated once you got halfway down the sidewalk.

Without saying a word, you turned on your heels and walked back to Sam. “Thank you,” you replied while the two of you began walking back in the correct direction, still holding Gale.

“Are you taking her home to kill her?” The Latina asked while looking down at the cutout, struggling to keep a straight face with this unusual situation.

“What kind of fucking animal do you take me for? No, I'm not going to kill her!” You exclaimed, “But I am kidding her.”

The sound of Sam’s laughter caused an eruption of butterflies to flutter throughout your chest. Even though you were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember most of this night, hell, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even remember ‘kidnapping’ Gale Weathers, but you knew you would never forget the sound of your woman’s laughter.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home so you can torture Gale,” Sam joked as she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

She didn’t care that you would be on the news tomorrow morning for the destruction of property; she was just glad you were happy while doing it. It wasn’t every day that Sam got to witness you lose your shit, especially on an inanimate object, but she loved seeing this side of you. She wouldn’t change your relationship for anything, no matter what it was. Sam loved you with her body and soul, and she would never give that up.

The only thing she wished was different was that she knew you when she was young. She would stay up most nights wondering how different her life would have been if she had met you when she was 18, a fresh runaway from home. Before she got into all the hard drugs, she still struggled despite being three years sober. But as she listened to you threaten fake Gale while stating how much you loved the woman you were dating, Sam couldn’t be happier with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

[drrden]

‘Trust’ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

This is best friends to lovers. Fluff!

The two of you have been essentially bound by the hip to one another since as long as either of you can recall. There's always just been this eternal sense of comfort between the two of you, a bond that's unspoken. Not ignored, of course, just there's no point in labelling what's clearly friendship - just a couple of best friends! Hand holding has been a thing of both the past and present between the two of you, when you were hanging out at the park in the days of childhood, and now in everyday life. Nothing's wrong with going out with your best friend and beeing glued to their side for the entire time. Loads of friends hold hands, it's just built on mutual respect and platonic affection. Seriously, there's no point in trying to put two and two together to make ten. No need for exaggeration when it comes to you and your best friend.

An all too familiar call of your name snaps you out of your thoughts, and your gaze flickers to meet the ever-friendly soft blue eyes you can only recognise as being Leon's. "Hey." One simple greeting from you, and he raises an eyebrow amusedly, not put off by your nonchalance. Instead, dipping down a little to your height and pinching your cheek. "What's with you being so casual, hmm?" A tender grin. "Has someone kidnapped my best friend? Replaced you with a clone?" He rambles on, standing upright and interlaces his fingers with yours; tugging you along the city's park without so much of a warning. Rolling your eyes, you can't help but fake a cough into your free hand, covering up the sudden warmth that's formed upon your cheeks. As long as he doesn't pick up on the sudden heat, everything's fine.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when you started reacting to the slightest of touches like this, all you know is, it only occurs when carried out by Leon. The boy who'd put a band aid on your knee after scraping it at school is now the young man who kisses the tears off of your cheeks. Seems that the older you get, the more intimate your interactions become, but that's surely because you're just getting more and more comfortable with eachother. As if he can read your mind as you ponder on about reminiscent ideas, Leon guides you under the tree where you'd both meet a lot as kids. Yours and his initials carved into the oak of the trunk, the lettering a little untidy - but to be fair, the two of you did that not long after you managed to write sentences.

A leaf falls from the tree, tenderly cascading down and deciding to land straight in your hair. Leon's expression glimmers with mischief, reaching with his free hand and plucking it out of the strands. "Least it wasn't an apple, hm? It'd be like Isaac Newton but, erm, in nowadays." His touch lingers a short while, pulling his hand away, in a motion that causes his fingertips to brush against the skin of your cheek. You falter for a moment before quipping; "Real funny. I hope an apple falls on your head." Almost like playground banter at this point, immature, childish insults and comments driven to tease one another. Like you're refusing to acknowledge that things have changed between the two of you since then. As if trying to replicate the past to conceal things have been different for a while. At least, on your part. Goodness knows if Leon even understands the concept of a crush.

The two of you get distracted for a moment, seeing one of those picture perfect couples sprawled on the grass together, kissing gently and sweetly. For some reason, a knot forms in your lower abdomen, a weird sort of twisting feeling. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the envy. "You ever wonder what that's like?" Leon blurts out, and by the widening of his eyes after speaking, it's clear that he spoke on impulse - outwardly narrating his thoughts. For a second, you hope he's flirting, but with the surprised expression on his face, that glimmer of anticipation soon falters. You narrow your eyes at him, an undertone of bitterness in your voice. "Obviously. Being our age and not having kissed anyone yet is super embarrassing." Way to sound sorry for yourself, huh? Now he's going to think you're an idiot.

Whether it's because he feels bad for you or not, he makes quite the chivalrous proposition. "You wanna find out?" It's asked so casually, like he's not bothered in the slightest that he's offering up his first kiss to you. As if it holds no significance. Used to the odd flirtation between the two of you, it's only natural to play along. It's just banter. "Yeah, why not?" Though, the softness in your voice gives away how genuine you are about wanting this. Wanting him to kiss you. Wanting him. He gives you owl-like blinks, movements jittery as his hands cup your cheeks, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. "Let's just see what it feels like." With that, his lips press against yours. Faintly with clear hesitance, the stiffness in his movements connoting to just how sheltered he is when it comes to romance.

Panting as the velvety kiss comes to an end, his breath fans against yours as he speaks. Voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don't want to risk our friendship, but..." Oh, great. Here it goes. After all this hope building up, time too be faced with the inevitable. 'The kiss didn't mean anything. That felt awkward. Suddenly, I've realized I'm disgusted by you, please go away.' Shaking your head of the increasingly ridiculous thoughts, you wait for his continuation. Leon's good at sugar coating. "I'm sorry. But I'm in love with you." Just as you open your mouth to respond to this, he shushes you, opening his eyes and pressing a finger against your lips. "I know it's wrong for me to suggest kissing without fully revealing the pretenses-" With the incessant blabbering coming from the suddenly very flushed young man, you decide to shut him up in a way that reveals your honest opinion to those two kisses. By giving him a third.

Your eyes shut as his does and you do your best to reciprocate, fingers flexing at your sides, unsure of where you're supposed to put them. The movies really do romanticize and make everything seem so damn easy, don't they? His lips are so soft and warm, even despite the light quivering as they brush against yours. Just as you're getting accustomed to the odd sensation, after the brief interaction, he pulls away. Lips still ghosting yours as he refuses to accept reality. Ashamed and regretful, you figure. It's fine. Then he leans in again. You do too. Hands reaching up and carding through his blonde locks as you lean further into the kiss. Leaning against you, a strangled noise of his escapes into the kiss and his grip on your cheeks grows a little firmer. As if letting go in the slightest would cause you to slip through his fingers. His eyebrows furrow.

[theetherealbloom]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 2 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Two: All Our Best Years Are Behind

Summary: With the TARDIS out of control, you three end up stranded on a spaceship. Unbeknownst to you all, you're not the only one on board.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, Mention of Su!c!de, 

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N: Tbh, this chapter took a while for me to write because of all the holiday shopping I needed to do tehe! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as you know I thrive for feedback, reblogs and comments. Thank you for all the love you've given so far to this series and I can't wait to start writing the next chapter because I have a bunch of ideas swirling around in my mind hehe. Also, please note that English isn't my first language, please forgive me for any grammatical errors or wrong spelling etc. Love you loads!

Song: anything (demo) by Dodie

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, 1666 — MORNING

The TARDIS collides with an unknown object, sending you and Donna tumbling through the room. Donna clings to the railing for stability, but you, unfortunately, lose your balance. As you teeter on the edge of falling, the Doctor swiftly intervenes, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. Your bodies collide in the chaotic scenario as flames and sparks whirl around the console.

The Doctor gently cradles your head with one hand, conducting a swift but thorough assessment for any injuries. Satisfied with the examination, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. With a determined look, he retrieves a piece of the console, swiftly making his way to the TARDIS doors. His focus shifts to triangulating your current location and time, a sense of urgency evident in his movements.

You, the Doctor and Donna pop your head out the TARDIS and you can see a bright blue clear morning sky and it seems that you have crashed into an apple tree. You look down to see a man holding an apple while looking up at the three of you in disbelief.

The Doctor, with a quirky smile, introduces you and Donna to the stranger he's just encountered. His charm radiates as he explains, "Oh! Sorry, we’re just slightly out of control. This is my fiancée, Stargazer. My friend, Donna..." He playfully gestures towards Donna, who greets the stranger with a friendly grin, "This is Donna. Donna Noble."

"Hi!" Donna chimes in cheerfully.

The Doctor, ever the quick thinker, continues, "Just dropped some coffee into the console." Donna interjects with a light-hearted assurance, "But don’t worry. He’s got a time machine, which means he can blame me for all eternity."

Ignoring Donna's quip, the Doctor turns to the perplexed man and earnestly asks, "I just need to triangulate. Could you tell me what year this is?"

The man, clearly taken aback, responds, "It’s 1666."

You and the Doctor exchange puzzled glances, your lips puckering in unison as you simultaneously warn the stranger, "Oh! Stay away from London."

The Doctor proceeds to input the year into a device, then has a sudden realization, exclaiming, "Wait a minute. Apple tree. Apple. Man holding an apple in 1666. Are you Sir Isaac Newton?"

"Sir Isaac?" to which the man reveals himself as the renowned figure who discovered gravity.

The Doctor, correcting his error, teases, "Oh! Not yet. Spoilers."

Donna, injecting some humor, remarks, "Have you got the controls set to famous or what?"

The Doctor, with a hint of exasperation, retorts, "If I had controls. Thank you."

Donna playfully engages Isaac Newton, saying, "But it's got to be said, Mr. Isaac Newton, that you, above all others, can appreciate—"

The Doctor interjects with a cautionary, "Oh, no, don't."

Undeterred, Donna persists, "You can appreciate—" and you join in, emphasizing, "Really, really don't." Donna groans and urges, "Oh, come on!"

Turning back to a bewildered Isaac Newton, she asserts, "You can appreciate—" and in unison, the three of you declare, "the gravity of the situation."

A loud bang and fire erupt from behind the three of you, prompting a swift turn to witness the chaotic scene inside the TARDIS. The Doctor hastily tells Isaac Newton, “Oh! Sorry, gotta go. Bye!” You and Donna join in, adding your farewells, “Bye!”

UNKNOWN SPACESHIP — ???

As the TARDIS crash lands, Donna steps out of the TARDIS, beginning to say, “I am never ever—”

After hastily evaluating the impending disaster at the TARDIS console, you and the Doctor realize it's on the verge of erupting in flames. The Doctor seizes your wrist and swiftly ushers you outside, shouting to Donna, "Out of the way!"

Both you and the Doctor hit the ground, Donna in tow, as flames erupt from the TARDIS doors. Strangely, the U.S. Air Force song plays in the background with audible lyrics:

"Here they come

Zooming to meet our thunder

At ‘em, boys, give ‘em the gun"

Lying on the floor, the TARDIS abruptly slams its doors shut, bringing an unexpected end to the song. The three of you are panting on the floor in shock and confusion plastered on your face.

As you three pull yourself up and stand, Donna asks in disbelief and unsureness, “Is it… Is it all right? Is it broken? Is it knackered?”

With a frown, the Doctor strides toward the TARDIS doors and pushes them open. "Uh..."

Ducking your head from underneath his shoulder, you peer inside to assess the damage. The hiss of fire and creaking of objects reach your ears amid the billowing steam surrounding the TARDIS. Both you and the Doctor frown at the sight, and he utters a small, "Ooh."

Gently closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor grips both sides of the time machine with his hands. You take a step back, and Donna softly and sheepishly asks, "Is it bad?"

The Doctor presses his forehead against the blue doors in defeat, groaning, "It was brand-new."

Donna softly says, "Sorry."

The Doctor composes himself, taking a deep breath. He spins around and addresses Donna, saying, “Not your fault.”

“Yes, it was.” Donna responds matter-of-factly, accompanied by an awkward smile. “But can we fly? Can you fix it? Can we get back home?”

The Doctor grins, “We can do anything.” Donna laughs in delight.

The Doctor brandishes his sonic screwdriver and says, “Sonic screwdriver,” then pulls out a regular screwdriver, “and a non-sonic screwdriver.”

You and Donna share a laugh, and you playfully point out, “I think a non-sonic screwdriver is just called a screwdriver.”

The Doctor nods, giving you an adorable smile, “Thank you, love.”

“But if I can just reconfigure…” The Doctor starts as he fiddles with the keyhole of the TARDIS, “'Cause this old box can regenerate itself if I can just click it into gear.”

“Am I going mad, or did the TARDIS play ‘Wild Blue Yonder’?” Donna asks both you and the Doctor. He frowns and furrows his brows, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?”

“What for?” Donna asks, and you reply, “I wonder.”

“We sang that in the choir in primary school. We’d have a little concert every Christmas, but gramps complained. He said, ‘You shouldn’t be teaching children that.’ It sounds all jaunty and fun, but it’s not. It’s the military going to war.” Donna shares as you stand next to her.

“Yeah. It’s the Air Force. The words are ‘wild blue yonder,’ which means the TARDIS played us a war song.” The Doctor frowns in contemplation but then manages to remove a portion of the keyhole. He inserts the end of his sonic screwdriver into the keyhole and clicks a button. The sonic emits a sound as the Doctor continues, “There, now... it can rebuild.”

The Doctor leaves the sonic screwdriver inserted as it continues to hum. The three of you take a few steps back as you hear the TARDIS clattering inside, shifting gears. The Doctor makes a face as he says, “Ooh. Okay? Yes?”

The TARDIS suddenly groans, and you three lean a little backward. Donna then asks, “Is it working?”

“Think so. Strange.” The Doctor comments. After a few seconds, the light atop the police box lights up blue and emits a small ding. The Doctor smiles and clasps his hands together, “There you go! Mending, mending, mending. Give it a bit of time.”

The Doctor then looks around the space you had landed, bends his knees up and down as he says, “So, now. I wonder where we are. Feels like a spaceship? Yeah?”

Donna concurs, “Yeah.”

The Doctor remarks, “Flight.”

Donna then adds, “Spaceship.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose as he shrugs, “Let’s just see.” He moves to what seems to be a door and presses the button on the side, leaving you and Donna to follow him.

“Wow! Nice!” The Doctor remarks as you enter the large, long corridor of the spaceship. Multiple shapes and sizes of grey panels surround the interior walls, while large mechanical beams hold the roof, leaving you in awe of the immense size of the entire spacecraft.

“Big!” Donna comments as she looks around, and The Doctor adds, “Very big!”

“I’d hate to be the cleaner,” Donna says as she gazes up at the high ceilings.

You then spot something in the distance, a small, white figure standing still. Squinting your eyes, you try to make out its shape and say, “Is that—”

The Doctor begins to wave his hand in the air, yelling, “Hello! We just landed. By accident. I hope that’s okay.”

There’s no response from whatever is at the end of the long corridor. Donna leans a little closer and asks, “Is that a person or a thing?”

The Doctor can’t help himself as he looks at the two of you, his tone suggesting, “We could take a look.”

Donna scoffs and points out, “Or we could stay here, wait for the TARDIS to mend itself so I can get back home. My family is waiting for me.”

The Doctor makes a face as he hums and points with his thumb, “Mmm?”

You shake your head while looking up, knowing his curiosity will always win. Eventually, Donna relents, “Yeah, all right.”

The Doctor smiles and shoves a hand down his pocket as he takes your hand in his, and the three of you walk down the massive, long corridor. Donna begins to say “Still, wherever we are, could be worse. We’ve got air. We’ve got lights. We’ve got mavity.”

You and the Doctor glance at each other before nodding along with Donna. Both of you hum and agree, “Yeah.”

“Was it me, or was Isaac Newton hot?” Donna says, and you grin wildly as you nod your head in agreement, saying, “Oh, thank the stars someone said it! 'Cause, yes, he was very hot.”

“He was, wasn’t he? He was so hot.” The Doctor said before realizing, “Oh, is that who I am now?”

You give the Doctor a reassuring squeeze as Donna says to the Doctor, “Well, it was never that far from the surface, mate. I always thought—” She’s cut off by the sudden sound of the TARDIS engine whirring, and the three of you race back to where you had landed to see it disappear.

The Doctor exclaims in panic, “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

“But— What?” Donna says as she takes a small step back in disbelief. You're by the Doctor’s side as your mouth slightly opens in shock, feeling a tightness in your chest of uncertainty.

“You’ll get it back though?” Donna asks, “Doctor, you can get it back.”

The Doctor has wide eyes and a mouth agape as he doesn’t reply. Donna steps in front of the two of you, saying, “Doctor, you can get the TARDIS back, can’t you? Use the sonic.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows dip in the middle, a visible annoyance and frustration as he replies, “It was in the keyhole.”

Donna’s eyes widen, and she stammers as she tries to gather solutions to the problem you three were in. She says, “But you can whistle. You could snap your fingers. You could summon it. Just use that stupid head of yours and get it back.”

The Doctor gives her a look as he grits his teeth in slight rage, and Donna shakes her head at him, pointing a finger as she says, “Oh, don’t you look at me like that. It’s your fault.”

To which you and the Doctor give her a more pointed look, and Donna continues on, “I said, ‘Let’s stay here’. But you two had to wander off.”

You raise your voice as you say, “You wandered with us!”

Donna retaliates with her voice high-pitched, “Oh, like I could stop you both!”

The Doctor adds fuel to the fire, his voice raising, “You spilled the coffee—” He stops himself, not liking where all the blaming and pointing fingers were going. To him, there was no point, so he threw his hands in the air as he turned around, saying, “No.”

The Doctor places both hands on his hips as you let out a deep sigh through your nose as you cover both your eyes with the palms of your hands, rubbing them out in frustration. 

Donna fiddles with the lapels of her coat as she nods and agrees with a soft note, saying, “No.”

The Doctor briefly raises both of his hands in surrender as he softly says, “Sorry.” To which you also add your own, “Sorry, Donna.”

Donna steps back, and her voice shakes as she says, “No. Okay. Fine.” Then you see panic seep through Donna. She begins to pant, her eyes slightly water and rim her eyes, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Oh— Oh, my God. Where are we?”

You and the Doctor move towards her the moment her lower lip begins to tremble, and Donna has an outstretched hand, trying not to let you two get close, but it’s no use. The Doctor grabs her hand and gives it a small kiss in reassurance. Then you hold on to grab her other hand in support as she whimpers, and she sniffles out, “Rose is waiting.”

The Doctor looks directly into Donna’s shining blue eyes as he says, “I will get you home.” Donna shakes her head, “How?”

The Doctor is serious as he says, “There is one hope. A mechanism on board the TARDIS called the HADS. Hostile Action Displacement System.” He then lets go of Donna’s hand and continues, “If the TARDIS is in danger, it goes away.”

“Goes where?” Donna asks.

“Anywhere. And it only comes back when the danger is gone. I turned it off years ago. I mean, I’d never land anywhere. Once spent three years with the Stargazer in orbit, and I thought, ‘Oh, mmm, turn off the HADS’, but if the TARDIS is rebuilding itself, maybe it clicked back on.” The Doctor explains, and Donna realizes, “But that means we’ve landed in the middle of hostile action.”

To which the Doctor replies with a somber tone, “Yeah.”

In moments like these, you remain silent, your mind kicking into overdrive as it gathers as much information as possible, desperately searching for a solution to the chaotic situation around you.

“There’s something on this ship that’s so bad the TARDIS ran away?” Donna asks, a slight quiver in her voice. The Doctor stammers, “Y-yes.”

Donna takes a moment before declaring, “Then… we go and kick its arse!” She moves to slam the palm of her hand on the button on the wall that opens the door and strides down the corridor with determination. You and the Doctor exchange a look before trailing after her.

“She was very put out. Mrs Bean,” Donna says as the three of you stroll down the long spaceship corridor. The Doctor, intrigued, asks, “Mrs Bean?” Your hand is in his, swaying with the movement of your bodies as you walk. He never wants to let you go again, now that he has you back.

Donna recounts her memory, “Head of the choir. She said, ‘It’s not a war song. It’s jolly.’ That’s what she said, ‘It is jolly.’”

After a brief moment of silence, you turn to Donna with a silly expression, “Mrs Bean?” The three of you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the last name, wondering just how unlucky someone must be to carry a vegetable as their surname for the rest of their life.

“Fenslaw.”

An automated voice echoes through the speakers of the spaceship, causing the pillars and panels to click and clatter as they shift and move around you three. You, the Doctor, and Donna stand still in concern, watching as everything unfolds before settling back into place.

“What was that?” Donna asks with narrowed eyes.

The Doctor frowns as he tries to understand, “Like circuits moving. Or it’s reconfiguring to become…”

“But what was that word? Fenslaw. What’s that mean?” Donna asks.

The Doctor shrugs, “I don’t know. The TARDIS translates, but now it’s gone.”

“No, the TARDIS translates for me. I thought you knew twenty-seven million languages.” Donna points out.

“I know fifty-seven billion two hundred and five, but not this one.” The Doctor says matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes at his subtle brag. Then he tilts his head slightly, “Unless it’s Mr Fenslaw saying his name?”

Donna shakes her head, “It wasn’t that.”

The Doctor nods and agrees as he parrots back, “It wasn’t that.”

Donna turns and places her hands in the pockets of her coat, jutting her chin out in the direction where the unknown species or object stands from a distance and says, “Jimbo didn’t move. What is that?”

The Doctor begins, “Oh, wait a minute. If I’m right…” Then he steps on a button on the floor with his grey converse, and a mechanism hisses before popping up a small orange hovering transport vehicle. Donna chuckles in amusement as she moves to sit in the passenger seat on the far end.

The Doctor gives you a cheeky grin and exaggerates his accent as he says to the two of you, “Your car, milady.”

“Thank you, Parker.” Donna says with her own exaggerated accent. You sit in between them as the Doctor drives.

After a few meters of driving, the object comes into view, and you say with realization, “Oh, it’s a robot.”

The Doctor pulls the vehicle to a halt, and you three exit the cart as you stand in front of the white, round, and old robot. The Doctor then says, “Hello, Jimbo. Can you talk?” The robot doesn’t move or make a single beep, and the Doctor continues to try to talk to it as he bends down to its height, “You got basic communications, Fenslaw? Fenslaw. No?” He moves an inch closer as he slowly speaks to it, “Fenslaw.”

With no response, the Doctor resorts to knocking on the white metal of the robot’s head, and a hollow echo sounds out. The Doctor waddles a little backward as he continues to ask, “Have you got controllers listening? Hello, I’m the Doctor, this is my soon-to-be-wife the Stargazer,” you interject him by saying, “Haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” He ignores it and continues with introductions, “This is Donna. We need help. We need to—”

He’s cut off as the Doctor takes a slow and mechanical step forward, causing the three of you to jump and take a step back. “Is that it?” Donna asks, wondering if there’s more to it than the robot.

“One step at a time.” The Doctor says, and Donna spirals, “What is it? Maybe it’s an invader. Maybe that’s the hostile action.”

Then you look around the robot, observing it, before remarking, “I think it’s just old. See, look at the rust.”

“It’s primitive if you don’t mind me saying so, Jimbo. Someone got a very old robot out of storage to walk very slowly down a very long corridor.” The Doctor says before taking a long inhale, “Why?”

“Maybe… time slowed down.” Donna guesses and you and the Doctor shake your heads. You then say, “No. We’d feel it in our bones.”

The Doctor points at the robot while saying, “Stay there, Jimbo. No sudden moves.” He then tilts his head back on the cart, “Onwards?” You and Donna hum before following the Doctor back to the cart.

Donna lifts her hand and tells the Doctor, “Uh, I’ve got it.” As you climb into the cart, Donna says, “Allons— as the idiots say— –y!”

She steps on the gas, and the car moves forward, zooming along the corridor. Eventually, you reach the end of the corridor, revealing a door. The three of you move to the door, which slides open.

The door behind you slides down shut as the Doctor calls out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

With no response, the three of you push forward. The entire room glows in cool blue light, leading you to the front of the ship where you find an empty captain’s chair and two monitors attached to the front.

“Well, definitely a spaceship,” Donna comments as she steps forward to look out the large window in the front, continuing, “If that’s space.”

The Doctor hops into the pilot’s chair, saying, “We’ve got a chair. That’s a good sign. It’s a life form with a bum.” He presses one of the switches on the control panel, adding, “If I can translate their basic one to ten, I can find out where we are. And when. And why.”

Putting on his glasses, the Doctor reads out the screen, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now I can read the base codes. So, life signs?” After pressing a few buttons, the computer whizzes and chirps, and the Doctor frowns, “None. Just an empty chair.”

“Where have they all gone?” Donna asks, leaning forward, and you feel something shiver up your spine, as if you’re being watched around the corner.

The Doctor hums, “The spaceship seems to have powered down. Basic functions ticking over.” Then something catches your eye, and you point out on the monitor, “Oh. Someone opened an airlock door three years ago. And then it closed.”

“What for?” Donna asks with wide eyes and continues, “This whole ship has been empty for three years?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor mumbles as he reads the symbols on the screen. Then he realizes and says, “Those numbers are lenses. There’s a camera.” As you lean a little closer to see what the Doctor is saying, you feel him tug you closer and suddenly let you sit in his lap, your entire body flooding with warmth.

You squirm in his lap and playfully smack his shoulder as he lets out a yelp, “Ow!”

You look at Donna apologetically, and she gives you a knowing smile, not letting the display of affection affect her. She hasn’t seen the Doctor this happy in ages.

The Doctor flips a few switches while explaining, “Like a drone. We can see where we are.” As the drone activates, you see what it’s seeing on the screen in front of you, and the Doctor chuckles in excitement, tightening his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he mumbles, “Well, it’s definitely a spaceship.”

Donna asks, “What kind of spaceship?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor replies honestly. Then the drone appears from the front of the ship, shining a bright flashlight in your direction. The Doctor moves his head to the side and uses a hand to wave, “Ah! Hello!” which you see on the monitor to your left.

“But if we’re in space, there are no stars,” Donna points out and then asks, “Where are the stars?”

“We could be inside a dust cloud or a mavity well, or—” The Doctor pauses suddenly as he reads the screen to his right, “Oh.”

“What?” Donna asks with concern in her voice, and the Doctor shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. The ship is lost. It fell through a wormhole.”

“Ending up where?” Donna inquires, and you frown as you try to translate the rest of the symbols. The Doctor sighs, “I’m sorry, Donna. The TARDIS was out of control. It’s taken us…”

“To the edge of the universe,” you say, finishing the Doctor’s sentence. The drone moves away, and Donna takes a step forward toward the glass, where a void of pitch black is on the other side.

“So, what’s out there?” Donna asks with a subtle shift in her tone, a little scared. The Doctor taps your hip to stand, which you do, and the two of you follow Donna to look at the view of the edge. The Doctor removes his glasses and pockets them as he begins to say, “Well, that’s difficult… for you because if the universe is everything, then the concept of everything having an edge is, mmm, kind of impossible. But that’s the language of 21st-century Earth, and you don’t know anything yet.” The Doctor pauses and adds, “Not being rude. You just don’t. When you discover Camboolian Flat Mathematics, you’ll discover it’s possible.”

“What?” Donna asks softly, and the Doctor replies, “That. The nothing. At the edge of creation. Absolute nothingness.”

Donna then says, “But starlight travels. You can stand in my garden and look at the light from stars a billion miles away. So, where’s the light?”

You nod to the corner and say, “Over there. It just hasn’t reached us yet.” You then point and explain, “If we flew in that direction, it would take a hundred trillion years to reach your house.”

You see Donna’s eyes glaze over and water, “That’s my family. Over there.”

The Doctor comments, “I’ve never been this far out.” He then places a hand on the glass, “To stand here like this.” He begins to softly say, “Physically. Unprotected. Right on the edge.” He then places his other hand on the glass and leans forward to observe the empty void. Absent of stars and light. He continues, “No one ever has. Not ever. Till us. And this ship.”

“And an airlock that opened three years ago. And closed,” Donna says, and the Doctor pushes himself off the glass and inhales, “Yeah.”

Suddenly, a loud metal clang reverberates throughout the ship, causing the three of you to whip your heads around to see the source of the noise. You rush out of the pilot’s room, and the door slides up and opens, revealing nothing.

“Must’ve been just settling,” the Doctor says, and Donna looks around skeptically, “You said no signs of life. Are you absolutely certain?”

“Coliss.”

The deep automated voice echoes, and you watch as the hexagonal panels and large pillars begin to flip and switch, clicking and clattering before coming to a stop.

“It said fenslaw and coliss. Like a list. Or a solicitors. Or a countdown. Or instructions.”

“Or a warning,” Donna adds.

The Doctor’s brows furrow, and he puffs out his cheeks. “Slow warning,” he says as he turns around back inside the pilot’s area with you two following him.

“I think this way,” the Doctor says, spinning to the far right end of the room before entering a different section and saying happily, “Yes! Base plate repetition filaments.” He pats both of the drawers that glow a bright orange before pulling a drawer while letting out a small gasp, “Huh.”

He then pulls one of the filaments out, and it creates a squelching sound as he does, vocalizing, “If we move one up…” It drips out goo as he inspects it, and Donna asks, “Is that stuff dangerous?”

“No. I don’t think so,” the Doctor says. He moves to sniff it before sticking his tongue out on the filament, licking the goo, and you and Donna make gagging noises as you groan in disgust.

Then the Doctor shakes his head, “No.”

As he goes to put the filament back, he begins to gag and groan, clutching on your arm and you and Donna begin to panic. “Doctor! What—” You begin to say but then he suddenly stops and stands straight, “No.”

You and Donna whack him on the arm in annoyance with his little joke. He pulls the top drawer and, placing the filament on top, he says, “Clip it into the fold back. Can you do that? Take all the rectangles, move them up there.” The Doctor asks Donna, and she replies, “What does that do?”

The Doctor then explains, “The ship's on neutral for some reason. It’s just idling. We need to get it back on full power.”

He then grabs your hand and begins to drag you away from the room, and Donna calls out, “Well, don’t leave me on my own.” The Doctor spins around with you in his grip as he says, “Donna, there is no one else on board this ship.”

Donna retorts with, “Hostile action, remember?”

As if on cue, a metal clang thumps and creates an echo throughout the room, and Donna asks, “And what’s that?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “A noise.” Donna scrunches her face as she sarcastically replies, “Oh, well, you’re very helpful.”

The Doctor takes a step back with you, and Donna says, “Go on then. And hurry back. You little streak!”

“I need to find the spindle. That’s not like wool. It’s a water pivot.” The Doctor says, and you look back at the Captain’s chair. You tell him, “I’ll try and see if I can access any of the logs.”

The Doctor nods, and you walk off to sit in the pilot’s seat. You hear the Doctor exclaim at the end of the hallway, “That’s it! Can you still hear me?”

You hear Donna yell out, “No,” as you let out a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Good. Good. Won’t be long.” The Doctor says from the spindle room, and you tap the monitor, trying to understand each symbol to see if you can find out what happened during all those years this ship was lost.

You exhale in frustration, conceding defeat in your attempt to access the logs. Slouching back into the chair, you cross your arms, and a visible puff of warm air escapes your mouth with each breath. A slight shiver courses through you, prompting a tighter embrace of your own body, as you curl into a small ball. Surveying the vast empty void at the edge of the universe, there's a profound absence of light, sound, or anything discernible.

Donna enters your field of vision, and you inquire, "You alright? It suddenly got colder." She responds with a nonchalant, "Yeah, 'm fine."

"Already done with the filaments?" you ask incredulously, and Donna hums in affirmation, "Yeah."

Raising your eyebrows, you nod, "Alright then." Donna moves to stand with her back to you, gazing into the abyss. After a brief silence, she asks with a tone void of emotion, "Did you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" you seek clarification.

"Running away with the Doctor?" She clarifies, and you lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you hum in contemplation. Eventually, you settle on, "I did, sometimes... The thrill, the chase, all the excitement... because I often thought to myself, 'What would I give for another run with the Doctor?' or even just to catch a glimpse of him. Then as the years went on when I..." You release a deep breath before continuing, "I realized I didn't miss any of that... I just... I missed him."

"But I couldn't... even the thought of my desires versus the entire universe collapsing. I just— I never thought I would ever see him again." You say and Donna lets you continue, “Now he’s back and… it all feels so surreal. And I fear that there’s going to be a price to pay.”

"My arms are too long," Donna suddenly declares, and you frown, "I don't think so."

"No, seriously, look!" Donna insists, and you divert your gaze from the ceiling to see her facing you. Your eyes widen as her arms appear unusually long and huge in front of you. You jump out of your seat, taking a step back, "What—"

"Star! Star, are you there?" you hear the Doctor call from behind you, and you shout, "Yeah! What about Donna? Is she there?"

Turning around, you rush to the middle of the room to find the Doctor. Donna does the same, and you both clutch each other as you watch the three duplicates move toward you. Fear laces Donna's voice as she asks, "What are they?"

“They’re us,” the Doctor says, and Donna denies it, not wanting to believe as she says, “They’re not us.”

You watch as your clones walk into the room. The Doctor's double says with zero emotion, “The notion of shape is strange.”

Your doppelganger remarks, “It limits. It is limiting.” As it waddles from the other room where Donna once was, a consuming fear sets in. “It limits. Limits everything,” you hear the Donna clone say as it walks forward. The Doctor tries the friendly approach, “Whatever shape you want to take, that’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I just want to say it’s very nice to meet you. I’m the Doctor, this is the Stargazer, and this is Donna.”

Donna chimes in, “So are they.”

As the unknown creatures move a step closer, you three take a step back to the door that leads out to the corridor. The Doctor raises his voice, “If you can just get those bodies to calm down, we can talk. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?”

“They’re looking at us like food,” Donna says, and the fake Doctor says, “Food is interesting. Because once I sort out the arms…” You watch as it stretches back to a normal size, and then it continues, “then I have a problem with the jaw.” The creature-like-Doctor’s jaw stretches down to the floor, and the three of you are wide-eyed in shock, confusion, and fear before it clicks back into place.

“It’s the knees. How many knees?” The other-Donna asks, and your non-Doctor replies, “Two.”

“Two in total, or two in each leg?” The non-Donna asks, and you hear the sound of cracking as it adjusts its knees.

The three of you take a few steps back, and the door behind you opens. The Doctor asks, “Where did you come from? You’re not part of the ship, are you? Did you come from outside?”

“We came from the nothing,” your doppelganger says as it twitches and resets her wrists while stepping forward. “We are No-things,” the Not-Doctor says, and the Not-Donna adds, “But you. You are not nothing.”

The Doctor replies, “Oh, I think you’ll find we’re quite something.” The three of you hastily jump into the transport cart, the Doctor seizing the driver's seat while you and Donna squeeze into the passenger seat as the No-Things pursue you.

Then, a menacing growl echoes from behind. You and Donna glance back to witness the No-Things crawling on all fours, steadily growing larger. Donna exclaims, “Oh, my God, they’re growing!”

“Come on!” The Doctor urges, stepping on the gas and shifting gears. Donna raises her voice, “Go faster!”

“I know!” The Doctor responds, and you feel a slight tug on the back of the cart. Turning around, you see the Not-Doctor gripping it as he crawls. You and Donna grab tools from the back as the redhead declares, “No, you don’t!”

You two start to strike the Not-Doctor's hand, and your Doctor announces, “I can’t control it!”

“You stupid big hand!” Donna yells out in anger, and it eventually releases its grip on the cart, flinging you and Donna forward. The Doctor shouts, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” The cart crashes into a hydraulic pillar but manages to regain control, only for the Not-Donna to throw its hand at the side of the cart, causing you to spin out of control.

The Doctor rips out the steering wheel, and Donna screams as the spinning comes to a halt. You watch as the three No-Things expand and become entangled in each other’s limbs, hissing and growling at you three. The engine sputters as you sit there in shock. Donna then asks uncertainly, “What are they?”

Exiting the vehicle, the cart's frame falls apart, causing a loud clatter. You turn around to see the Doctor approaching the chaotic mess in front of you, and you groan, “Oh, no, don’t!”

“We’ve got to see,” the Doctor says, walking a little forward. The metal groans under the weight of the twisted limbs and squished faces. The Doctor mumbles, “It’s strange enough my face coming back, but not this big.”

“The airlock door three years ago. That’s when they got in,” Donna states with a nod, and the Doctor adds, “No-things. No control of shape. No concept of shape or size.”

“How can they get bigger? ‘Cause you only get a certain amount of mass, don’t you? Shaun used to complain about that watching Venom films. He said, ‘Where’s the extra mass come from?’”

You then recall the chill you felt as you sat in the pilot’s chair, pointing out, “It got colder.”

Donna agrees, nodding as she announces, “Oh, yeah, it got colder for me.”

Glancing back at the No-things, you conclude, “Heat into mass.”

The Doctor builds on that, saying rapidly, “But they’re not just physical copies. They’ve got our thoughts, too. That other Star, she mentioned Gallifrey and Mars.”

“The other Stargazer said, ‘Wilf’,” Donna remembers, pointing to your copy.

“The Not-Donna asked me if I missed all the adventures with the Doctor,” you add with disbelief.

“So they’ve got our memories,” the Doctor concludes, and Donna shudders, “Okay. So they’re copies with memories and mass, but what I don’t get is why do they hate us?”

Suddenly, one of the hands drops onto the metal floor, causing a loud thump, and the three of you jump back, letting out yelps. Donna looks at it with a concerned tone as she says, “That’s my hand.”

The metal begins to creak, and you look around as the Doctor points out, “They’re getting free. We should reason with them. Try to make peace. Welcome them to our side of the universe.”

The No-things roar in anger and disgust, and you flinch. The Doctor takes a step back and remarks, “Maybe later.”

As the three of you turn to run, the Doctor points out the three hexagon panels with steps on them, exclaiming, “I know, I know. Ladder. Do you think? Maybe up there?” You see a small exit hexagon, and Donna shrugs, “Let’s go!”

The Doctor climbs first, leading the way as you and Donna follow him up. But you hear the familiar automated voice resonate throughout the speakers of the ship, “Brate.”

The Doctor groans, “Oh, not now!” The triangle panels begin to flip, and you feel each hexagon shape slide opposite sides. You hear Donna exclaim, “Doctor! Star!”

“It’s okay. I’m right here!” the Doctor says right before the panel flips inwards, and he’s out of view. You watch as Donna slides down from the ladder and into a different area of the ship. Your hexagon moves upwards and flips inwards, flinging you into the interior of the spacecraft. You let out a yelp as you land on your bum, and suddenly the three of you are separated.

Fatigue etches lines of frustration across your face as you wearily rub your eyes with both hands. With a sigh, you push yourself upright, casting a glance down the dimly lit corridor. The soft hum of glowing pipelines provides the only illumination as you traverse the hallway, the occasional hiss of escaping air and steam accompanying your footsteps. Abruptly, a door slams shut behind you, prompting a swift turn of your head. Shaking off the interruption, you continue walking forward in the eerie silence of the spaceship's metallic passageway.

You discover a ladder and descend, the metallic clangs echoing in the confined space. Moving forward, the whirring of systems shutting down and rebooting accompanies your steps. The flickering lights above cast erratic shadows, and as you exhale, your breath materializes in the cold atmosphere.

Finally, you reach a door, stepping out just as the Doctor emerges simultaneously. A moment of uncertainty hangs between you two.

You cautiously take a step back, asking, “Are you—”

The Doctor interjects, “Is it—” A shared pause ensues, and you murmur, “But it got cold.”

“I know I’m me,” you assert with narrowed eyes, and the Doctor affirms, “Well, so am I.”

Frustration flickers across your face as you lick your lips. The Doctor initiates, “Tell me, how did we meet?”

“When?” you inquire.

“The first time we met, how did we meet?” the Doctor specifies.

"At the Academy. What was the color of the sky back on Gallifrey?" you respond, then throw a question back at him.

“Orange sky and trees with silver leaves. That reflected the morning sunlight, making it look like the forests were on fire. You and I would have picnics outside of the Capitol when we didn’t want to show up for class… your eyes would shine like starlight, and I… I knew then that I loved you.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and your bottom lip trembles as you say, “You didn’t say it then.”

“I can say it now,” the Doctor pleads.

You purse your lips, feeling a wavering resolve, and shake your head, “You also hated me back then.” The Doctor shakes his head, attempting to step forward, but you take two steps back, edging closer to the door. “After what I had done. When you found out who I was and where I came from. A rift in time. A supposed observer who interfered with fixed points in time when I had to save everyone. I had to save… you.”

The Doctor begins, “You and I both know it wasn’t your fault. After the Rift, the Time War, and Mars…”

You shake your head, swallowing down your guilt as you take in the way he looks at you. It wasn't him, but the weight of the past bears down on you. Another step back, and this time the Not-Doctor grimaces and says mockingly, “You and your sad backstory. ‘Oh, woe is me! I started an entire war! I altered a fixed point in time! Boo hoo! I should have died.’ Blah, blah, blah. No wonder the Doctor left you on Earth! You are annoying to be with. And you are right about one thing, you should have died! Why didn’t you die? Hmm?”

Gritting your teeth, you head out the door and slam the button shut, running down the corridor. The echoes of harsh words linger in the cold metallic passage. Exhausted, you eventually stop to catch your breath. Sliding down one of the walls, you can't contain the streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. Quiet sobs escape, and you cup your mouth with your hand, trying to muffle the sound, the weight of emotions overwhelming you in the dimly lit corridor.

Taking a deep breath, you try to settle yourself down, a skill you've honed over years of navigating the guilt within. You've learned not to be ashamed of your survival. You did what you had to do, continuously clawing your way out of the ache, cutting through the pain to the bone. It was never going to be pretty, but deep down, you know it will always be worth it.

You bury your head in between your curled-up knees, seeking solace as you take another breath and sniffle. Suddenly, loud banging echoes from a few meters down the hall, and amidst the clamor, you recognize the voice shouting. The Doctor's frustration is palpable as the grunting and banging continue. You remain still, waiting in the silence that follows. When the noise subsides, the Doctor notices you. He comes to a stop, and as he meets your tear-stained gaze and red-rimmed eyes, you say nothing.

Anger seems to cloud the Doctor's expression, evidence of the harsh words exchanged with the Not-You or Not-Donna. Yet, his demeanor softens as he kneels to your level, whispering, "Is it you?"

Weakly, you mumble, "I think you know."

He draws you close, his arms enveloping you, and his warmth provides a comforting embrace. Placing your head on his chest, you admit, "I should have known the it was the Not-Doctor I was speaking to, but I—"

The Doctor shushes you, planting a gentle kiss on the side of your head. "I was tricked too. I'm here now, love. Wasn't your fault." Gently rocking the both of you back and forth, he eventually stands up, offering a hand for you to take and pull yourself up. Moving through the hallway, this time, he doesn't let go.

“Gilvane.”

You find another door, and upon entering, you are met with the peculiar sight of your doppelgangers and potentially the real Donna. As you and the Doctor survey the two sets of clones – one set of you and the other Donna not holding hands – the two Donnas exchange uncertain glances. One Donna breaks the tension with a comment, "I’ve gotta say, this is the biggest nightmare of my life, but… I look quite good."

"I can’t argue," the other Donna adds. The Not-Doctor then points at your Doctor, demanding, “I want to talk to you. You Not-Doctor. I know you’re a fake. I know for a fact. So I want to know why you’re doing this.”

Your Doctor frowns, “That’s what I was gonna say!”

“You should have been faster. ‘Cause that’s me, isn’t it. Fast. Am I fast? Do I talk fast? Yes.” The Not-Doctor rattles off rapidly. Your Doctor retorts, “But you’re a copy of me! You’re only fast because I am.”

“You seriously want to marry this one?” The Not-You asks, and you nonchalantly reply, “Of course you’d know. Spent almost my entire life with him, might as well.”

“Oh, well, I can’t follow any of this. And that is proof. ‘Cause let’s not pretend. I’m the stupid one,” the other Donna interjects, prompting the Doctor to squeeze your hand as he questions, “You think you’re stupid?”

The other Donna replies, “Of course I do.”

“That’s very Donna,” your Doctor says, and the Not-Doctor chimes in, “That’s so Donna. That’s my Donna.”

“Except Donna does not think she’s stupid,” you point out, and the two Donnas say, “Oh, but I do.”

You shake your head, “No. Donna thinks she’s stupid, and sometimes she thinks she’s brilliant. She thinks both. Because that’s the astonishing thing about people from her planet. They can believe two completely different things at exactly the same time.”

After a moment, Donna looks at the both of you with your intertwined hands, grinning, “Brainbox and Stargirl!”

“Earthgirl!” You and the Doctor say in unison as the three of you reunite, sharing a group hug. Suddenly, the sound of cracking fills the air as the No-things begin to stretch. The Doctor swiftly whips out a salt shaker, exclaiming, “But salt! You can’t cross salt. In our universe, it is said that vampires, demons, and ghosts cannot cross a single line of salt until they’ve counted every single grain.” He starts drawing a line of salt in front of you before lifting the shaker up, “You’ve got no choice!”

“But that’s a superstition,” the Not-Doctor says, and your doppelganger adds, “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“It’s a superstition, and it’s true. Two things at once,” the Doctor asserts, and the Not-Doctor attempts to call him out, “You’re lying.”

Challenging him, the Doctor exclaims, “Then walk towards me. Come on. Stop copying and make your own minds up. Cross the line!”

The Not-Donna glances at your Donna and says, “She doesn’t believe him.”

“But you said I’m stupid,” Donna points out, to which the Not-Donna retorts, “And also brilliant.”

Your Donna sneers at her copy, “Then which one is it, Donna? Cross the line. Or count.”

As if the Not-Donna couldn’t help herself, like an impulse, she gets on her knees and begins to count each grain of salt, mumbling numbers as she does. Now all that stands is the Not-Doctor and the Not-Stargazer who stands there staring at the three of you.

“So tell me. What do you want?” The Doctor asks, to which the Not-Doctor responds, “You tell us.”

“It didn’t get cold this time.” You point out, and Donna agrees, “No, it didn’t, did it?”

“Which means you’re acclimatizing. Your arms are a bit too long. Your mouths are a bit too wide. But are you stabilizing?” The Doctor inquires, and Donna adds, “Like they’re becoming us properly.”

“I just wonder why.” Your Doctor says aloud, and the Not-Stargazer singsongs, “Why?”

Donna realizes something as she says, “Because the TARDIS will come back for us. They know that. So if they become completely us, the TARDIS will come back for them.”

“Is that what you want? Escape?” The Doctor asks with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly the tone of the Not-Doctor shifts and explains, “We drifted here. In the lack of light. Passing no-time.”

Your copy continues, “But we would feel it. From so far away. Your noisy, boiling universe.”

“We want to travel there. To play your vicious games and win.” The Not-Doctor says with a grave tone.

You frown as you say, “If you existed here with no shape, no form, no purpose, then what’s made you so bad?”

The Not-Stargazer replied with eyes devoid of emotion, “The things we felt, they shaped us. Carrying across the dark. We could hear your lives of war. And blood and fury and hate. They made us like this.”

“We are more than that.” Donna spits out, and the Not-Donna says, “Love letters don’t travel very far. And neither do your lies.” She then blows the line of salt away, and you three step backward as your clones begin to have sharp teeth as they hiss and growl at you.

You feel your back against the wall, and suddenly the automated voice can be heard once more, “Stond.”

The lights flicker as the panel behind you begins to flip you three around, clicking and clattering, and Donna remarks, “That’s lucky.”

But the panel flips you back to where you were, and Donna whispers, “Or not.”

“Run?” The Doctor asks, and you and Donna agree, “Run!”

You sprint through the corridor, timing it perfectly as one of the doors manages to stall them before you re-enter the captain's area. The Doctor gestures a hand and says, “Come on!”

After pressing a few switches, a glass panel slides down from above, dividing you three from the No-things. As they stare at you three, Donna asks, “Why? I don’t understand why. What are they scaring us for?”

“Problem is, ten minutes ago they’d have ripped that door off its hinges. Now they’re just standing there. Locking into shape. Almost complete,” the Doctor comments, and Donna presses, “Yes, but if you just listen to my question, thank you very much. Why are they making us so scared? If they wanna copy us, why don’t they just sit in a corner and do it? Why terrorize us?”

The Doctor’s face lights up and says, “That’s a very good question.”

“Yes. I’m brilliant.” Donna says while bouncing on her tip toes.

“Why provoke us? Unless… that’s how it’s done. The more scared we are, the more blood pumps. Hypothalamus. Adrenaline. We think faster and faster and faster.” The Doctor says as the pieces begin to click.

“It makes us easy to copy.” You remark, and the Doctor takes a step towards the glass as he says, “Goosebumps, like braille. You’re reading us. Is that right?”

“Well, what do we do? How do we stop ‘em? Stop being scared?” Donna asks urgently, and the Doctor says, “Like the ship all ticking over in neutral. Donna, stop thinking.”

Donna laughs nervously, “Well, that’s easy for me. What about you two?”

You look at the Doctor as you pull your lips to the side, “Took up meditation for a bit, so the only one with that problem is him.”

The Doctor takes a deep breath and says, “Just calm. Just cool.”

“Yeah, I’m calm.” Donna says with a deep inhale, and the Doctor comments, “Even calmer.”

“Well, you do it too.” Donna says, and the Doctor exclaims back, “I am!”

Donna grits her teeth, “Mmm. Stop rattling me!”

“Will you two just shut up!” You say.

The Doctor softly says, “Slow. Slow heartbeat. If we’re slow, they can’t read us.”

“Okay.” Donna says, and the Doctor replies, “Good. Shhh.”

After a few moments of complete silence, Donna asks, “For how long?” And the Doctor replies, “Uh, there’s a flaw in the plan.”

The Not-Doctor decides to bait him by asking, “How can you not think on a ship full of questions? Why the empty chair?”

Not-Stargazer adds on and asks, “Why do the walls keep moving?”

Not-Doctor asks, “What are the words in the air?”

Not-Donna asks again, “Why did the airlock open and close three years ago?”

You and Donna say simultaneously, “Don’t.”

Your Doctor begins to protest, “But—”

Both of you are firm as you say, “Don’t. Stop it.”

Then a sudden loud metal clang rings out once more, and the Not-Doctor asks, “And what is that?”

“Doctor, stop thinking.” You warn but eventually the Doctor relents and groans as he says, “Let me think. Let me think.”

The No-things begin to chant creepily, “Think! Think! Think! Think!”

The Doctor moves to a few switches and buttons on the wall and begins to press and pull each of them as he says, “What is making that noise?”

The rooftop panel whirs as it slides open, revealing a glass roof, and the three of you look up, and the Doctor says, “There.”

You watch as a creature in a spacesuit floats in space with no helmet, the skull of what once was. You frown, and the metal hook clangs as it thumps against the glass. “The Captain of the ship.” You say somberly, and the Doctor adds, “Circling round and round forever. Caught in the gravity field.”

“Caught in the what?” Donna asks, and you quickly clarify, “Mavity field.”

“But why? Did they throw him out? Her out. Them out.” Donna says with a breathy voice, and the Doctor says, “Her. I wonder. Why is the captain outside? Why is she in a spacesuit with no helmet?” He turns around to face the No-things and catches their expressions, he says, “And why don’t you know?”

The Doctor moves closer to the glass as he looks at the Not-Doctor; he growls as he says, “I know that face. I know my expressions very, very well, and you don’t know. The captain did something you don’t understand, but what?” The No-things begin to say, “Tell us! Tell us! What did she do? What did the Captain do? What did she do?”

You move to stand next to the Doctor as he says, “They don’t know. They really don’t know. The questions aren’t a test. They need the answers. We’re all stuck in a system because of the Captain.” He groans as he jumps up and asks, “What did she do?”

Donna shakes her head and points out, “Well, if they want the answers, don’t tell ‘em!”

“You know what my head’s like, Donna, once I start having ideas.” The Doctor explains, and the Not-Doctor interjects, “Then I have ideas. So the captain…” Not-Donna looks at him and finishes, “Tried to stop us. But how?”

“Wait a minute.” Donna begins, “If they don’t know why the Captain’s outside… The airlock door three years ago wasn’t them coming in. That was her going out. She killed herself.”

“But what for?” The No-things ask in unison from behind the glass.

The Not-Doctor says, “She hid her thoughts.” And the Not-Stargazer explains, “So we couldn’t see.”

You watch as the Doctor’s expression turns to understanding, the final bits of information making sense in his head. His mouth opens in a silent gasp as he exclaims loudly, “Maximised automatic brain function! Oh! Well done, Captain. Because she knew. Even with a lost ship, if you were found one day, if you three ever reached the universe, you’d run riot across the stars!”

Your eyes widen in realization, adding, “And you were already becoming copies of the captain. You’d have owned this spaceship. If you’d copied her perfectly, you could’ve flown the ship home and started your war!”

The Doctor points out, “So, she ended her life to hide whatever it is she left behind. Because when she died, you hadn’t completed her. So you lost everything she knew. Gone.”

The lights flicker as clicking and clattering sound throughout the ship, and Donna asks, “What is that?”

The Doctor runs around animatedly, beginning to explain, “That captain, calm as a Zen master, set in motion to stop those three. And she took her own life so they couldn’t work out what she’d done.”

The Not-Doctor grins, “But you’re working it out right now.”

The Doctor shakes his head as he denies it, “No, I’m not. Mm-mmm.”

The Not-Stargazer smiles as she tilts her head, “Yes, you are, and so is she. Therefore, so am I.”

You bite your lip and try to calm your racing thoughts, standing next to Donna for support. Then you hear the Not-Doctor begin to say, “It’s all about slow. We don’t understand the slow, so the captain set out to slowly stop us. So the ship is slow. The robot is slow. The words are slow. Is that it?”

You see the Doctor holding it in as he bounces out the energy, and he shakes his head, “Nope.”

The Not-Doctor continues, “The words move the walls, so the ship is slowly reconfiguring to become a very slow…” The Doctor finishes the sentence for everyone, “Bomb.”

“What?” Donna asks with a high-pitched tone, and the Not-Doctor explains rapidly, “The captain set the self-destruct slowly so the words are a very slow… countdown.”

The Doctor groans out in frustration as he throws his arms up in the air, “I said so! I said countdown straight away! It’s that simple.” He sighs, “I translated the numbers. I’d never heard them out loud! ‘Fenslaw, coliss, brate,’ means ten, nine, eight.”

The Not-Doctor turns to the Not-Donna and says, “The robot.” The three of them move to the door that leads to the long hallway, and as it opens, the Doctor flicks a switch to lock it.

The Not-Doctor glares at you, “We’re as clever as you now. That robot won’t stop us!” It begins to flick a few buttons and switches by the nearby control panel next to the door. You and the Doctor move about the area, flicking switches to try to override the system they were trying to break.

Donna quickly asks you two, “So, what’s the robot?” And you reply, “The robot is the trigger. A primitive mechanical brain that those two couldn’t read, taking three long years to walk a very long corridor with one slow instruction.”

“Kaboom.” The Doctor finishes as he twists a few knobs before pressing a button, and Donna says, “Countdown. What number are we on?”

“Ratico. That’s five.” The Doctor says as he slams his palm on the button, closing the door once more, “It’s been counting down for years, but the TARDIS brought us here just in time for the final sequence! We can’t let them reach that robot. There’s only one way we can stop them.”

You move about to flick a few more switches and rapidly slam your palm against a few more buttons as the Not-Doctor, Not-Donna, and Not-Stargazer begin to rip out different wires. “What’s that?” Donna asks, and you hear the Doctor say, “I’m sorry, Donna. But the countdown needs to speed up.” The Doctor then slams his palm on the button, and an alarm begins to sound along with the automatic voice, “Vandeen.”

Donna begins to panic as she yelps, “That’s number four!”

“We know!” You and the Doctor say, and Donna shrieks, “But we’re still on board!” To which you both reply in unison once more, “We know!”

But then the No-things manage to get the door open, you hear the Not-Doctor say, “Stop that robot!” To which your Doctor says as he presses a button that lifts the glass divider, “Don’t stop that robot!”

“Could the robot just wait!” Donna says as she runs after both of you.

“Blinss.”

“That’s three!” Donna says as she pushes her legs faster to try and catch up to you. Suddenly, the Not-Stargazer turns around and hisses at the Doctor, throwing herself on him to try to stop him, but he shoves her aside only for her to attack you.

Donna slows down a moment as you wrestle with your double, and you yell to Donna, “Keep going!” The redhead nods and keeps running, following the Doctor. You manage to get the upper hand as you maneuver your weight and lock your knees to her waist, saying, “For some odd reason, this is going to be theraputic.”

You smack her across the face, tumbling off the No-thing, and proceed to run after the Doctor and Donna.

“Sensill.”

“That’s two!” Donna announces from in front of you as you feel your lungs expand and deflate while running after them. But then, you're taken down by the Not-Stargazer from behind, and you shout out in pain as you roll on the floor with her.

As you wrestle yourself to the ground, you hear the TARDIS whizzing as it floats down, playing the song Wild Blue Yonder. The lyrics and the music echo, “Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Climbing high into the sun.”

The Doctor snatches his sonic screwdriver from the keyhole and steps into the TARDIS with Donna climbing inside, pushing it forward with his foot like a scooter towards you and your double. As the Doctor and the TARDIS are in front of you, you hear the automated voice echo, “One.”

The Doctor's voice reverberates, urgent and probing, “What was my nickname at the Academy?”

“Theta Sigma.” The simultaneous reply from both you and the Not-Stargazer hangs in the air. The Doctor scrutinizes both of you, his keen eyes flickering between your faces. His next question pierces the tension, “What happened on Trenzalore?”

“Nine hundred years of battle and that’s where you were buried,” The Not-Stargazer asserts confidently, a sense of triumph coloring her words. However, your gaze remains distant, memories of Trenzalore flooding your mind, and you avert your eyes from the Doctor's penetrating gaze. He swiftly ushers you into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut.

As the flames engulf the three No-things, their screams echo in the air. The TARDIS whooshes away, leaving behind the burning remnants. The three of you huddle on the floor inside the time machine, wrapped in a comforting embrace.

THE TARDIS — SPACE

After the intense ordeal with the No-things, a collective decision is made to refresh and rejuvenate. In the soothing confines of the TARDIS, you find a moment to cleanse yourself from the recent events. The warm water cascades over you in the shower, washing away the remnants of the unsettling encounter. Drying your hair, you change into a fresh set of clothes, embracing the renewal that accompanies the change.

Exiting the room, you traverse the winding corridors of the TARDIS, making your way to the control room. The Doctor, having already cleaned himself up, is engrossed in the myriad buttons and switches that adorn the console. As you approach, he turns, a warm smile gracing his features, “Hello, love.”

With a hum, you encircle your arms around his waist, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arms around you. A tender exchange of glances unfolds as you gaze up at him. Offering a small smile, you inquire, “How did you know it was me?”

“You could never bring yourself to talk about what happened that day. Not once after that, you never mentioned it again,” he replies. Pressing your forehead against his chest, you take a deep breath, absorbing his freshly cleaned scent.

“I know you were the one who saved me and brought me to Earth after the Time War,” you admit. He furrows his brow, “How did you figure that out?”

Sighing, you recount, “The No-thing appeared as you when we got separated and said some really hurtful things... but he also mentioned you were the one who brought me to Earth. You saved me. All those years ago…”

The Doctor exhales before planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “You saved me. It was only fair.”

“I love you,” you declare, feeling his smile against your forehead. “I love you too.”

"She'd almost completed you," the Doctor shared, his gaze fixed on Donna as she joined them at the console. "The other Donna was a 99.9% copy. Except I thought, 'What's wrong?' Turned out her wrist had an extra 0.06 millimeters. Obvious, really."

Donna, hands resting on the controls while you expertly pilot the TARDIS, quipped, "The devil's in the details," and the Doctor agreed with a nod, "Yeah, isn't it just?"

After a brief pause, he mused, "Oh, I keep thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done that thing with the salt.'"

Donna shook her head, dismissing it, "What, the bad luck thing? That was just a lie."

"Normally. Except I invoked a superstition at the edge of the universe, where the walls are thin and all things are possible," the Doctor explained with a slightly shaken tone. "I just got this feeling."

“What?” Donna inquired, and the Doctor, after a momentary space-out, shook it off, saying, “Which is gone. Fine. Good. Onwards.”

The Doctor moved to pilot alongside you, adjusting knobs as he continued, “So anyway. I was wondering, she said on the spaceship— That other Donna had your memory. She could remember us as the DoctorDonna. So she could see my life and my mind and my thoughts for the past fifteen years. All the time we’ve been apart, she could remember it. Can you?”

Donna blinked, contemplating, and replied, “No. It’s too much. It’s like looking into a furnace. But I suppose she had a great, big, outer-space brain. She could make sense of it.”

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Why?” Donna probed, and the Doctor mumbled, “Just wondering.”

“What did she see?” Donna persisted, and the Doctor, puffing out his cheeks, evasively said, “Ooh. Things.”

“Like what?”

The Doctor remained silent, prompting Donna to push further, “Come on. Where have you been since I last saw you? What’s happened?” Attempting to shrug it off, he nonchalantly said, “Oh, you know, the usual. Robots, chases, waterfalls.”

Donna mockingly nodded, “Oh, okay,” before giving him a scrutinizing look and asking, “But what really happened?”

The Doctor's expression turned sad and tired as he admitted, “A lot.”

Donna nodded in understanding, then turned to her friend and asked, “You okay?”

The Doctor, opting for candor, grasps your hand, affirming, “I will be.”

“When?” Donna inquires, tilting her head, and the Doctor responds, “A million years.”

The TARDIS emits a pleasant ding, signifying your arrival as it materializes. The Doctor, wearing a contented smile, notes, “Ah. There we are, back home.”

Donna strides towards the TARDIS doors, commenting, “You timed that to get out of awkward conversations.” She then rushes down the bridge, calling out, “Where are they? Where’s the family?”

As you prepare to step out, the Doctor playfully pulls you back, encircling your waist with his arms, prompting a delighted squeal, “Doctor!”

“Wait, I have a present for you,” he announces, positioning you by the console. With a gentle push, a concealed compartment reveals a new sonic screwdriver—silver and gold with an ergonomically designed handle. Overwhelmed with excitement, you bounce up and down, unable to contain your joy. Seizing the Doctor's face, you plant a passionate kiss on his lips, and in that moment, the Doctor melts into the warmth of the affectionate embrace.

“My own sonic screwdriver. Thank you.” You say to him as he gives you a grin, “Consider it as a wedding present.”

You lightly smack his chest and say, “I expect a proper proposal, Doctor.”

He kisses your cheek, “Of, course dear.”

CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023

Intertwining your hands, you and the Doctor emerge from the TARDIS, greeted by Donna and Wilf. Donna beams triumphantly, exclaiming, “I said so!”

Wilf gasps, hand covering his mouth in shock, while the Doctor grins, “Wilfred Mott. Oh, now I feel better.” Wilfred erupts in delighted laughter as you and the Doctor approach him, enveloping him in a warm hug. The Doctor affirms, “Now, nothing is wrong. Nothing in the whole wide world.”

Stepping back, the Doctor smiles broadly, addressing Wilf, “Hello, my old soldier.”

“I never thought I’d see you two again after all these years. Oh, the Doctor, that lovely face. It’s like springtime,” Wilf chuckles, and the Doctor nods to Donna, remarking, “And Donna’s got her memory back.”

“Without dying, which I recommend,” Donna adds with a smile. However, you hear distant sirens, not giving them much thought. Wilf grins, “Yeah, well, I knew it. I never lost faith. I said, ‘He won’t let us down. He’ll come back and save us.’”

Both you and the Doctor frown, and he questions, “Save us from what?”

Donna asks anxiously, “And where’s the family? Where’s Rose? Are they all right?”

Wilf reassures Donna with animated gestures, “Yeah, they’re fine. They’re safe. I’ve told them to bunker down, and I’ll keep watch. I said, ‘You save yourselves.’”

Your eyebrows knit in concern as you ask, “Why? Is there something wrong?”

Right on cue, the food truck in the background erupts in flames, people shouting and screaming, chaos ensuing. More people join in the madness, hitting each other, and the Doctor queries, “What’s going on?”

The tumult intensifies, with people shouting and cursing, and Donna implores, “What is it? What’s happening?”

Wilf attempts to explain, “It’s everybody. It’s everything. They’re all going mad. Listen, you’ve got to do something, Doctor! The whole world’s coming to an end!”

As an airplane approaches, its engines emitting smoke, people scream and clamour. The plane crashes in the distance, prompting the Doctor to swiftly move Wilf's wheelchair to the front of the TARDIS, shouting, “Quickly!”

Taking cover, the four of you shield yourselves from the ensuing blast, and amidst the chaos, you can't help but wonder if the kiss was somehow connected to this impending disaster.

TAGLIST:

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira @crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r

[valeriele3]

…

MY SWEET SWEET BABYYY HEIWBSJANAJA I WANT TO HUG HIM SO BADDD

Heisnsjsksbsksnbxksnsja Reaper, my beloved Reaper of Spring ily

I swear if he continues to be so cute and wholesome he might take the first place for my favs butttt no..I’m loyal..I’m loyal to Blood hdksnajaka

PINK KKOMAS KOHAKU OUKAWA 76

Spoiler for my stories

Reaper seating on the edge of the cliff staring at the beach side. He saw everyone having fun down in the sand, while his alone staring at them having fun with the new addition of their group.

Reaper held out his hand, a silver scythe cover with vines and flower engraving and symbols appear on his hands.

He spin it to his right to his left hand before he point at the side of him and flower bloom from unfertilized soil.

Sometimes he wonder about his friend group. It seems that from the four of them, other bee called him "4*" for a nicknames before.

Moving his scythe to poke his other side and making another plant sprout and bloom.

Reaper: I wonder if other bee think everyone is a card. σ(￣、￣〃) to say that.

His mismatched eyes stare at Bee who's making sandcastle with Blood and Sea.

Holding the scythe and tapping it's edge of the staff of the scythe to the ground in the edge of the cliff it suddenly blossom trees and he casually alter it's growth to be sides, before long his feet is no longer dangling over the edge as tree roots and branches form a safe hanging ground and he stand it with confidence.

Reaper: is bee a 5* then? Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

He wonder about Bee power level, since a day ago, Doll keep asking Blood about ranking system of the multiverse and blood casually ignoring the question.

Reaper: hmm. (ㆀ˘･з･˘) blood said bee can be any stat of other kohaku. But his initial is a 5*... Blood also letting Bee borrow his powers as he said before. So Bee should be strong...

While walking on the branches that form a stair case for him as he move around as he wave his scythe from left to write, the vines of grapes and roses bloom and soon as he went back to the cliff a gigantic tree and the roots have taken over the cliff.

He suddenly remember how often the fae says about being past tense.

Standing on top of his now created tree garden, he stare at the people in the beach again while making a curtain made of vines and leaves.

Reaper:... I Wonder why, that's the case then... If Bee is strong why does he keep dying then. (●´⌓`●) maybe his au is a dangerous place... (︶︹︺) I hope bee don't suffer that badly.

His eyes then saw doll who's holding a black cat full of bandage and angrily went to Blood and start to demand some stuff from the other who once again ignore him.

Reaper who can see who the cat is:... Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑) isn't that the other cat that catnap cat mc? Wonder why his leaking the stench of death.

Reaper watch as doll get was stopped by Bee who takes the wounded Kuma and his translucent wings become 6 feather like and he held the little guy who slowly healed up and the stench of death disappear with Bee going back to his usual attire and giving back the cat to Doll who seems quite glad the black cat is well again.

Reaper:... Isn't that like his other self ability. (●__●) Maybe they get along now to let him use that skill. Through wonder why would he use--

As he mumble that he sees you appearing beside Doll and looking in wonder at the healthy Kuma, he felt he understands now when you seems surprised And smile at Bee-- who flabbergasted and shyly blush before he cling to you and pulling you away from the group to somewhere.

Reaper who remember things:.. (• ▽ •;) oh. That's why.

The Reaper of Spring covered his face in embarrassment as he remembers some concerning memories he wish to not resurface at all.

Plop.

Suddenly he was boink by an apple from the tree, turn out it's an apple tree. The moment he stare at it, he saw the glossy fresh apple but he take a bite but would keep it to give it to blood later.

Surrounded by nature of spring, he sigh happily but suddenly realize something.

Reaper: ヘ（。□°）ヘ I ACCIDENTALLY MADE A GARDEN AGAIN.

he worriedly look around at his creation. He sigh hopelessly.

Reaper: blood and I seems to have similar type of skill... But his still better than me. (^～^;)ゞmaybe his a 5*.

Somehow he felt self conscious being around those version of himself that probably better than him. He always felt left out sometimes. He can never really have the same energy as Doll, Happy go lucky attitude of Blood, concerning lovesick personality of Bee or maybe the comforting silence of Sea.

His just That out of place kohaku. Among others. He wonder why if he belong with the group if his not as amazing as them.

He probably isn't categories as same as them. His not close with the 5 people they are close with from what they said Canon unit. His close with different people.

Hadey, eternity, frost, and Grave.

That was his set of friends other than his world MC and other spirit of winter cycle. His not close to Rinne Amagi, HiMERU, kaname, Madara Mikejima or even know a Niki Shiina.

He wonder why he seems so different from them. He can never assist Bee either as good Blood could or how Doll could.

His just him, who likes spring and flowers.

Leaves soon brush against his face as if wiping something, at that moment he realize how his vision is blurry as tears start to pour out.

Reaper: ... Am I really that sad to be different?

He suddenly went and hide himself from the view, leaning his back against the wall, he wipe his tears away.

Many memories and facts he refuse to remember resurfacing. His heart suddenly felt cold as if it's taken a frostbite of sadness.

Reaper: even the group of reapers ... I'm also the different one...

Maybe it's what he is. The oddball. To be different... Is this my form of eternity?

Doll:

-- HEY!!! KOHAKU THE REAPER!!(`ー´)

suddenly he heard someone calling out to him.

He quickly wipe his tears away and look where the voice are coming from.

Blood:

Reaper of Spring, can you let us come in to your beautiful tree house? ♡(ӦｖӦ｡)

He look the others who have come to the cliff side without him noticing and calling out his name. His heart suddenly felt warm and the cold from loneliness he felt suddenly subside.

Sea held two shells together and smacking it together to make noises:

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

TAP

(●´⌓`●)

Doll who knows Morse code:...

Doll: HE SAID HI BTW IF YOUR STUPID. σ(￣、￣〃)

Sea stared at Doll as if saying, his you too and your calling yourself stupid along the process: (c" ತ,_ತ)

Doll: fuck. I don't mop around crying on stupid things anyway. (`ー´)

It seems that doll notice what's wrong with him. Maybe doll is sensitive to emotions in his surrounding. Reaper wonder as quickly run downstairs toward his friends, when his finally out he saw everyone, even Bee who's holding the mofumofu moth stared at him with a soft smile.

Bee: can we come in, Reaper ? (◍•ᴗ•◍)

Reaper:...

Reaper tearing up: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) of course!

Doll:... Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

Bee: Σ(• ▽ •;)

Blood: oh my... (；^ω^）

Sea: Σ(¬︿¬)

Others soon approach Reaper and wipes his tears and try to comfort him and laugh his sadness away, but the moment they appear his emotion that bother him is gone and his just happy to see them approach him without him trying to stay on top of the floor of the group like he always do to not felt left out before.

When they ask what's making him cry he told them the truth they all look at him like his a dumb ass( more like it's doll) and sass him out about everyone is different and they are far different from what they are in canon. And being different make them original and unique. That they are not just that alternative but they are them. And each one of them are important like the other.

.

[valkyyriia]

Ikemen Vampire Masterlist

2024

Leonardo Da Vinci

A Brief Respite (OC)

Take a Break!

Arthur Conan Doyle

A Study in Green (NSFW)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Orders (OC)

Comte de Saint-Germain

Try This On For Size (NSFW)

Stormy Days

A Deluge of Feelings

Theodorus Van Gogh

Gradually | Suddenly (OC)

Five More Minutes (OC)

Isaac Newton

Potential Energy

Vlad

Hellotrope and Yellow Tulips

Leonardo x Comte x Reader

Trecento (NSFW)

Dividers by @/natimiles

[alby-rei]

The Shy & Clumsy Physicist (IkeVamp; Isaac Newton)

a/n: I haven’t opened the ikevamp app in months, and when I did revisit it the other day, I was hit with nostalgia from the music alone. Decided to tackle an old wip from a retrospective angle, thinking of doing the same to the rest of the bunch. Thus, I present to you a piece of my Memories of the Mansion, talking to Isaac Newton for the first time. 

[Characters]: You & Isaac (ft. Napoleon)

[Word count]: ~1000 words

[Notes]: Pre-relationship, first meetings, can be read as platonic, gender-neutral reader

~*~

In a mansion full of accomplished and renowned historical figures, Isaac Newton was no slouch. If anything, he was among the most dedicated to continuing his previous life's work. He could work for hours on a single contraption without a care for the outside world, never losing patience and or focus. And yet, whenever you walked into the room he was working in or made your presence known to the hard-working scientist, something in him would switch.

He'd stumble on his words and bump his elbow or knee against the nearest furniture. It's like he'd lost all sense of spatial awareness, and his vision tunneled in on you and every shift of your facial expression.

Isaac's demeanor was endearing, to say the least. You may even call it cute. But the longer it persisted, the more you worried about him. He could seriously injure himself soon, if he hasn't already.

One time, you greeted him in the hall on your way to the kitchen as he came down the stairs from the second floor. His foot missed a step and nearly sent him tumbling down if it weren't for Napoleon's quick reflexes pulling his arm back to straighten him.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately, something on your mind?" Napoleon asked.

"No, no. I'm quite alright." You were already gone behind the swinging kitchen door when he looked back.

"I see. It is not something, but someone that is on your mind, hm?" Napoleon nudged.

Isaac whipped his head around. "How did you know?"

"You just told me, with your eyes." Napoleon tilted his head in the same direction as Isaac's gaze a second ago. He smirked. "And your reaction confirmed it."

"Nothing escapes you it seems." Isaac sighed. "But it really is nothing. I just feel so nervous around them."

"The new helper? Why’s that?"

Before Isaac could elaborate on his dilemma, you emerged again from the kitchen, looking much relieved to be empty-handed.

"And how do you do, gentlemen?" You greeted cordially, imitating a guest at a ball.  

Napoleon played along, bowing in response. "All is well, et tu?"

"Much the same, thank you, Monsieur Bonaparte."

You shared a laugh, and Isaac looked between you two like you spoke some ancient tongue he was unaware of.

"Just 'Napoleon' will do, no need to be so formal."

"Right, still getting used to that," you said. You smiled at both of them. Isaac looked like he wanted to say something, but it remained caught in his throat. "I better get to my next task. Sebastian really isn't going easy on me, despite it being my second week! See ya!"

"Do let us know if you ever need help." Napoleon called out to your retreating figure.

"How did you do that?" Isaac asked.

"Do what?"

"Talk with them so...normally, casually."

"How to talk to MC?" Napoleon echoed. "Words are a good start."

"I'm serious!" Isaac's face warmed up, and his friend's laughter wasn't doing him any favors. "It's not that simple."

"But it is. Alright, how about this: talk about your day or your work. I'm sure they'd love to hear about it."

Isaac didn't understand the logic behind it. Would you really be willing to listen to him babble about equations and theories, that even he wasn't certain of yet? No, no. That won't do, he thought, shaking his head. Napoleon patted his shoulder and told him that you two will talk at some point, seeing as you'll be living in the same mansion for an undefined period of time.

Isaac thought it over when he returned to the library to continue his work. He even practiced some conversation starters on his pet hedgehog, Harry, when he fed him.

Later the same day, Isaac walked past the lounge on his way to get Rouge. From the corner of his eye, he spotted you in there, fiddling with a gramophone.

"Ah, that's—!"

"Wah!"

Isaac's outburst startled you, and you almost knocked the gramophone right off of its station. You held it in place while also holding your breath. Safe.

"I'm so sorry," Isaac said. "What were you doing with that?"

"Oh, this? I wanted to see if it played any music." You rubbed your arm sheepishly.

"I'm afraid it won't. I haven't fully reassembled it yet."

"Reassembled?" You echoed.

"I took it apart, yes. It's a hobby of mine, observing how it works and then putting it back together."

You looked at him stunned, and your silence worried him.

"W-what's wrong? Was it something I said?" Isaac’s shoulders tensed.

"I don't think...I've ever heard you talk so much before." You covered your mouth. "Oh no, that was rude. I meant, we haven't gotten a chance to really talk, you know..." You trailed.

"Q-quite right. Well, be sure, I'll have that gramophone fixed in no time," he said.

"Could I watch you while you do that?"

"Pardon?"

"Watch you work, I mean. If you're okay with it, of course."

Isaac wasn't used to having a willing audience. It made him nervous. He tugged at his hair in thought. What should he do? Napoleon's words came back to him. 'Words are a good start.' Yes, words! He passed that first obstacle. And he can do a little better than that. He left to get his tools from the library. When he returned, he found you with a tray of Rouge and sandwiches prepared.

"I'm no expert, but I believe it's not proper to work on an empty stomach," you said.

For the first time since you arrived at the mansion, Isaac smiled. It was a good look on him, you mused, gave him a boyish innocence.

The two of you sat on the floor, and Isaac went into focus-mode. He didn't mind your questions and even talked through his process with you. He sounded more confident, excited even. You helped organize his tools for him as he switched between them. As you looked at him working animatedly, you thought to yourself, he wasn’t so intimidating after all. He’s an introvert, like any other from your time period. But he was also brilliant, the way he carefully handled the project in front of him spoke of his meticulous nature. You looked forward to learning more about him.

Silently standing at the doorway was none other than Isaac’s friend and confidant smiling at the sight before him. Napoleon knew his friend had it in him, he just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

~*~

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