#like he just thrown two of his friends down the staircase. not to survive oh no

[officersnickers]

Smirk of a boy who thinks he's so smart

(narrator voice: he's not)

[talaok]

I’ve dreamed of this (pt. V)

Summary: You are a part of the BAU, and for the longest time you and Dr. Spencer Reid had been best of friends, even when it was clear to everyone else, and at times to you, that you should be more than that, and when something almost happens on a night out with the team, everything is destined to change.

This is a double pov story (each chapter will be alternated between y/n's and spencer's pov)

Chapter summary:  You wake up just to realize what has happened.

warnings:  TORTURE (cuts, blood, restraints etc.)

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Y/n

fuck

there was a lancinating pain in the back of your head,

you could feel it pulsating through your skull, stretching your skin, and tearing it apart.

You wondered if your brain was fine, if the pain was a good sign or if it just meant your skull was cracked in two.

god you hoped not,

that would have been an awful way to die.

the fact that you were still able to think was probably a good sign.

Your mouth was dry, you could feel your tongue grazing your palate, your teeth, all arid.

you really needed some water,

or the ability to salivate back again

ah!

another shock of pain struck your head.

You instinctively went to reach for it just to realize you couldn't.

what?

Oh

Fuck

Your heart jump-started, beating so fast you could feel the thumps in your eardrums.

You opened your eyes and were immediately blinded by the white light in front of you.

Not that white light, you hoped.

You blinked again, your eyes frantically starting to move, trying to see something, anything, to understand, to plan.

finally, as you opened them once again, they focused.

Some black spots soiled your sight but you now could see the room, the big, cold light on top of you, the wooden walls, the metal shelves full of stuff, drills, saws, screwdrivers, and wires, all thrown messily onto them.

You could smell the thick air, full of dirt and dust, slowly entering your lungs.

You turned your head, there was a staircase to your left, but you couldn't see it really well, beside your spot, the room was dark, there were no windows or light shining through them.

You had no idea what time it was

or were you were

or how long you still had to live.

You tugged at the restraints, the same ones, you realized, that had caused the bruisings you had seen on the victims,

victims, just like you

you wondered if you were gonna be the next one,

if next time,

on that board,

it was gonna be your photo,

your wrists,

your ankles,

and the purple marks on them.

no

You couldn't think about that now,

you had to find a way to get out,

or at least to survive.

You looked down at your body,

you were laying on a cold metal table, seemingly a doctor's one, your legs and arms were tied with rope, you couldn't move if not by inches,

you still had your dress on, but no shoes, probably to make it harder for you to escape.

There was dirt on your knees, and some bruises on your hands,

You had fought, you were starting to remember,

He had struck you in the head from behind and you had fallen, you were supposed to faint, you had understood it once you looked up, and the rough man in front of you looked surprised, and angry.

You had reached for your gun, but he had kicked it away, and once you got up, simultaneously trying to communicate with the team, he had blocked your punch, and manhandled you, forcing you by your wrists until your back was to him and his arm was around your throat.

You didn't remember anything after that.

just the dark,

and the cold.

And now there you were.

You could have ruminated about the choices that brought you to that position, about your stupid idea, about Hotch agreeing to it, about the team not arriving in time,

You could have blamed yourself and everyone else,

you could have been angry

you could have been scared,

but now wasn't the time,

you needed to get out of here and point a gun to this bastard's head while listing his rights first.

You looked to your right,

there was a table, and you weren't particularly happy about what was on it.

5 diffrent knives laid there, perfectly clean, sterilized looking, standing out in the completely dirty room.

They were arranged in a perfect line, from biggest to smallest, and you could see each blade, the sharp, terrifying edges.

They looked so cold, so cutting that you could already feel them on your skin, just like the other victims, he was gonna cut your chest,

your stomach,

your arms,

your legs,

and then finally,

one of those knives was gonna slash your throat,

ending it all.

ending you.

"hello sweetheart"

you flinched, your head snapping towards the door, towards the voice.

“You woke up” A large shadow spoke, its voice dark and low.

"It took you a while" he stepped closer, into the light, and your heart started racing.

He was the same man who had attacked you, the same green piercing eyes, the same wrinkles, the same unshaved beard, the same buzzcut, and finally, the same limp,

but he was diffrent,

he wasn't angry anymore,

he was smiling,

an unsettling, ominous grin stained his face,

and as much as you wanted to tell him just how much of a bastard he was, and that he had no idea who he had taken, you stopped yourself,

you needed to survive,

and to do that,

you had to play along,

give him what he wanted until the team arrived,

until he was in handcuffs,

and you had the power again.

"I was scared for a moment that I'd hit you too hard," he said, stroking your hair, as he walked behind you.

His hands were gentle, but there was something in his voice, a malice, a darkness lurking through it.

"I'm happy you woke up"he stroked your cheek "because we get to have fun now" he smiled "Do you like to have fun?"  

"I do" you tried speaking confidently, but the fear in the back of your head, that quiet voice telling you that the team was never gonna find you, that this was gonna be it, that you were never gonna be able to see anyone again, not your mom, not your sister, not the team, not spencer, just this man, and his callous hands on you,

that voice, was making it harder for you.

You needed to focus,

all the worries didn't matter now,

they just distracted you from what was really important,

understanding what he wanted.

"oh you do?" he chuckled "is that why you sell your body?" he didn't stop looking straight at you, but his arm reached beside him, picking up one of the knives, the smallest one, you noticed.

"is that what you do with all those men?" he smirked, as he brought the knife to your chin, grazing it with the blade.

a shiver threatened to shake your whole body.

sure it was the smallest one,

but it was still a knife,

and it was still sharp.

"huh?" he asked, irritated "you just have fun?"

You were having troubles understanding what was the best answer to give, what he wanted to hear,

the fear was getting stronger, and your brain foggier.

"n-no"

"oh so you don't have fun?" the cold knife traced your jawline

you gulped "no"

"then why do you do it?" he asked, "why are you a whore?"

"I- I had no choice"

He tsked "now see, that's not true" he moved the knife to your neck, and you felt your eyes wet, as Spence's voice invaded your brain, "if damage is inflicted to the carotid artery, which carries blood to the brain, it takes no longer than a few minutes to lose enough blood for death to occur" he had said, rambling on about something, and you already knew that of course, but still, you had listened, you had nodded, and you had said something like "at least it's quick",

but you were starting to rethink your comment as you tried not to breathe to limit your throat's movements.

maybe quick wasn't better, because if they say that before you die, your whole life flashes in front of you, well then you wanted to have the most time possible to relive it all, to see everything again, the bad, the good, the hurt and the happiness.

The people.

You wanted to have enough time to say goodbye to each of them, as you saw them again one last time.

You didn't want it quick,

you wanted time,

time, you were starting to suspect you weren't gonna have.

"you always have a choice" the blade was on your collarbones "and yours was to sell yourself" now in the center of your chest, right before your dress started "to let men pay you to do whatever they want to you" he looked at you, and you could only see rage in his pupils " to use you like a toy" he stopped the knife "like an object" he hissed, before with a swift movement, he swayed the knife, cutting your skin.

You bit down a cry.

he was a sadistic killer,

he took pleasure in seeing you in pain,

but if you didn't give him that,

he would have had to try harder until you did,

which meant you were gonna get hurt, but you were gonna buy time.

"oh you're tough " he smiled, making you uneasy "aren't you sweetheart?"

"You're right" you whispered "I- I did have a choice" you agreed with him "It's an excuse"

He smiled even more widely, like he was proud, not of you, but of himself "good" he nodded "we're already making progress" he said, slashing you again.

You could see the slanted cut next to the other one, the red blood running down the wound, your opened skin, right in front of your eyes.

"but even if you realized that" he tilted his head to the side, as, with a smile he cut you again, making you shut your eyes, as you closed your hands into fists "it doesn't change what you've done" he grabbed your face unexpectedly, his fingers squishing your cheeks "what you are." he said lowly.

"I-I know," you said, "I'm sorry" you apologized, speaking to him like he was sane, like he didn't need to be locked into a mental hospital and personally pay for your therapy for the rest of your life.

" I made a mistake" you whispered "I shouldn't have become a prostitute" you were having trouble speaking, you had talked to thousands of criminals in your life, but apparently, it was easier to do when they weren't pointing a knife at you "It-it's wrong"

"yes" he agreed "yes it is" he moved the knife to your upper arm,  "it's wrong" he put pressure on the knife, making you wince "it's disgusting" he growled, as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started cutting the skin, a deep and long overflowing red line, scarred your arm, from your bicep, to your elbow.

You hadn't even noticed it, but as blood spilled from the wound, tears had spilled from your eyes.

please stop

please it hurts

I can't do it.

that's what you wanted to say,

but you couldn't,

you needed time,

because in less than five minutes the team was gonna arrive,

morgan was gonna kick down the door,  Spence was gonna free you from the restraints and then hug you, and you could have let go, because he was gonna catch you, and you were gonna be safe in his arms, like you had been countless times before.

You needed to believe that, you had to, or you were never gonna survive.

"What, it hurts?" he made fun of you "you don't like pain?" he cut you again, this time a smaller one "ironic, seeing how much you caused" he gritted,

he was getting angrier, scarier,

"how do you think your dad must have felt when he found out?" he asked turning to the table beside him, and after some consideration taking another knife.

Your blood chilled, when he turned around

it wasn't the biggest one, but the one before that,

a raw wooden handle and a serrated shiny blade,

the light above you reflected on it.

"how do you think," he said, grazing your leg with it "he felt when he found out that his perfect little girl" he looked at you disgustedly " had become a whore" he spat out "a disgusting slut" he said through gritted teeth, before taking the knife and harshly swaying it vertically down your thigh.

"ah!" you yelled, not able to keep it in anymore

He chuckled, clearly happy with the reaction.

"I-I'm sorry" you tried the same strategy from before, tears now streaming down your face "I'm sorry I swear"

"I bet your dad is too," he said, stomping closer to your face to put the knife against your throat again "I bet he's gonna be even more sorry when he finds out you're dead" he whispered against your face, and in that moment, as he was inches from you, as the knife was right against your skin,

you felt yourself give up,

you felt the hope leave your body,

you were gonna die,

just another FBI agent killed on the field,

you were never gonna go to Disneyland,

you were never gonna swim with dolphins,

you were never gonna get married,

you were never gonna have children,

you were never gonna experience love, real, full love,

you were gonna die, with a million things yet to do,

you were gonna die,

alone,

a forgotten memory, in the back of people's minds.

"FBI, HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM"

You gasped, as you saw his face fall.

After the loud bang of the door being kicked down, the room got flooded with light.

You turned your head, and the flashlights blinded you immediately, your eyes shutting close.

"THROW THE WEAPON TO THE GROUND"

It was Derek, you realized, a smile creeping on your lips, as incredulous tears filled your eyes.

He was there,

You weren't imagining it.

he was there,

they had done it.

"if you shoot me I'll kill her" the man beside you said, holding the knife firmer against your throat,

but you weren't scared,

not anymore,

The team was here,

your family was here,

Spencer was here,

and just the knowledge of his presence in the room made you calmer, because even if you were gonna die,

you weren't alone anymore,

but with the person, you now realized, you wanted to be with,

with the person, that if it came down to it, whose side you wanted to die by,

him.

"DROP THE WEAPON" Emily now urged, making you smile wider.

"MARK THERE'S NO WAY OUT OF THIS DROP THE WEAPON AND NO ONE IS GONNA GET HURT" Hotch spoke.

Mark,

that was his name.

You saw his eyes shift, as he glanced between you and the dozen agents in front of him,

you saw his brain calculating possibilities, and then, just as you did,

you saw him give up.

He gripped the knife and with a quick move, swayed it against your throat.

bang

You shut your eyes, and then you heard a thud, followed by some movement.

"y/n"

You opened your eyes

"Spence" you whispered

Your eyes filled again, and he glanced at you before focusing on the restraints, freeing your arms in a matter of seconds.

"y/n" he murmured again

"Spence" you sobbed, as he took you in his arms, holding you tightly.

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[erstwhilesparrow]

watched more 3rd life it's time for another list:

it fucks me up so bad that right up to the end martyn is careful and suspicious and ready to get the hell out of dodge at a moment's notice: when skizz -- someone who has already sworn his loyalty and thrown himself wholeheartedly into Being On Their Side -- brings him and ren down a staircase in skizz's base to a secret resource stash, martyn hangs back with his sword out and his shield raised. when martyn and impulse get ambushed by grian et al in renchanting's basement, martyn immediately bolts and blocks off the exit staircase behind him so they can't chase him. and then the way he dies is charging at scar for killing ren. could he have survived and gotten away by playing it safe and booking it? maybe. would he ever have? not in a million years. i know people have talked about this to the moon and back but that doesn't mean it doesn't fuck me up. he'd follow his king anywhere....

i love ren repeatedly being concerned with infrastructure even as they get into the endgame of the season. they don't know how fast things fall apart after a certain point!! they've never done this before!! ren complained about not having time for building things up, and i immediately thought about limited life. and i know this one's also been talked about to death, but really. the way some of them sort of try to build some nice things but it's their fourth go at this by now and really what do they need but the stripped-back and unadorned sky bridges, the half-burned ruins that are still standing enough to put chests and crops on? the... unravelling. the breaking of everything down to its bones. i was watching with a friend and said to them something to the effect of, like, dogwarts is so sentimental. martyn goes to absurd lengths (including straight up dying) to get the banner back. ren decides that since they're all going to die anyway, they should do it at their castle, take it back and make a final stand there. and by the finale, there are uncovered explosion craters everywhere, sky bridges and pillars made out of incongruous blocks, platforms supported by nothing, quick two-block-tall barricades, everything in ruins, but that's not until the finale. renchanting has decorative buttons on its roof. at one point during either his finale or his penultimate episode, martyn is quietly replanting dogwarts' crops while they all talk. they try to build things for the longterm. they try to build them pretty. and then limited life dispenses with all the pleasantries. god.

at one point scar runs past a bunch of floating items and going "oh, somebody's dead body." i LOVE dropped items as corpses…. here's what the game leaves you with: weapons, armour, resources. here's what the game never gives you: the actual body, hands and voice and face. but they DO leave something.

sometimes i think to myself, "surely i am exaggerating how much martyn is Like That about ren," and other times i am listening to martyn chase scar down saying, "when my lord wants something, he gets it." !!

hey kind of a weird note but martyn just Says this like it's something everyone knows: apparently green names with invis just fully can't be seen by red names?? is that true. why hasn't this ever come up. why did i forget he said this.

i love names. i love how they get used and when. thinking about etho going, "major?" to himself when ren's trying to tell dogwarts who to target, and then later, discussing battle strategy during the finale, picking up on calling him major instead of scott. ren never not calling scott 'major'. scott in his pov deliberately calling jimmy 'solidarity' when he's talking to impulse because impulse wouldn't know who 'jimmy' refers to. martyn swapping from calling him 'jimmy/timmy' to calling him 'solidarity' when they wind up on opposite sides and he needs to tell the rest of dogwarts what their enemies are up to. all of dogwarts taking up calling [impulse and his villagers] 'the war machine' after impulse gets found out. who they all are to each other, the network of relationships and understandings that gets laid out in who calls them what. man!!

i love prox chat. faint noises that might be movement while ren and martyn hide in a cave, and then extremely clearly scott going "joel, they're under you." bigb apparently only hearing scott going, "hi, bigb!" before dying is SO scary i love it so much. martyn overhearing impulse calling "eyes" to desert duo when he spots dogwarts trying to sneak back into the castle and the extra sliver of betrayal that that is, that he turned on them and stole their vocabulary for his own ends too.

i forgot martyn loses his green life within sight of dogwarts. i forgot martyn doesn't even see the actual moment ren loses his final life. absolutely fuck me, i guess.

speaking of "absolutely fuck me, i guess" moments: i hadn't noticed until this watch through that martyn's video description on his finale is "A hand to hold until the end. A hand to hold because we're friends." ;-; ???? i'm so tender about this. they were playing games and telling stories and having fun with it and they're FRIENDS. ;-;

entering the mean gills zone, in which i think about mean gills a truly unreasonable amount:

martyn chasing scott through the trees, scott yelling for martyn to back off and telling him off like a misbehaving dog. even after a rift has opened between them, there is still a degree to which scott reacts to martyn like martyn is someone/something he can boss around.

also: scott taunting dogwarts saying he has the red winter axe. martyn noticing while searching through some chests that he has what he describes as the rabbit foot scott gave them (initially a gift from ren to scott). setting this next to the lengths martyn has demonstrated to almost everyone on the server that he will go to to get the dogwarts banner back. setting both of these things next to the fact that martyn proposes stealing the pufferish of peace, saying, "i think [scott] would do horrible things to get it back."

this exchange from the middle of martyn chasing scott: "i wanna cuddle before you die. we were the last two yellows, can we cuddle? [...] hey i never wanted jimmy to die, okay, i said from the get-go--" / "you let skizz get him."

(note: it is demonstrably not true that they're the last two yellows? i think martyn might've meant last two greens; he and scott were both yellow at this point.)

martyn claiming to dogwarts that he knows where scott's nether portal is and that he can show them how to sneak into scott's base from the nether. (i say claiming because they do then get very lost trying to find scott's portal, but. yknow. this is knowledge martyn kind of has on scott. even the bridges over the valleys of the nether are bridges martyn built with scott.)

scott loses his yellow life trying to fight ren, because martyn charges in and scott nearly does kill martyn but ren shoots him at the last minute.

exiting the mean gills zone to instead enter the [whatever the fuck desert duo has going on in martyn's pov]:

an exchange you could have fun with: "Why do I keep letting Scar live!" / "Oddly we have respect for him." (i forgot to make note of who the first person was, but the second speaker is martyn.)

you could probably Do Something with the fact that scott, scar, and grian show up to attack martyn, and while grian's yelling, "revenge!!" martyn says, "you gave me this [golden apple], grian, i'm gonna use it!"

at one point in martyn's pov you can hear grian go, "scar, where are you?" and then increasingly forlornly going, "scar? scar?" i don't have anything additional to say about this, i just am vividly remembering how much i like desert duo and how interesting they are from martyn's pov.

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

Could you do something about going to your school reunion with Tom and your kids and you’re pregnant again or something. Thank you xx

Cute!! Yes of course babes, hope you like it! Feel free to keep seeing in requests guys xx

Reunion 

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You’re not feeling the good the night of your reunion

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“Do we have to go?” Tom groaned.

“Yes,” (y/n) nodded, “I want to show off my hot husband and my cute kids, so we’re going.”

He rolled his eyes, “You can do that online.”

“We’re going,” she squeezed his shoulder calling up the staircase, “Kids! Dinner’s ready!”

Their five year old son came sprinting down the stairs first, followed my their three year old daughter, who was much slower as she navigated the stairs mostly by scooting down them. (y/n) plucked her up when she reached the bottom of the stairs, setting her in a booster seat so she could read the table.

“Are you going to be good for your uncles tonight?”

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“And you’ll make sure your brother is good too?”

She giggled and nodded while he frowned, “Hey!”

(y/n) ruffled his hair with a smile, “I just wanna make sure you two are gonna be perfect little angels while we’re gone.”

“You better be,” Tom threatened as placed a plate in front of each of them, “Mommy and I have a lot of kissing to do tonight so we can’t be coming home for any meltdowns.”

Their son cringed while their daughter giggled, “Tom,” (y/n) pinched his side.

He smirked and kissed her cheek, “Sit down love, I’ll get your food.”

She sat opposite the kids, making faces at them until Tom sat the food in front of her. One look at the plate if plain pasta and broccoli had her sick. She’d been nauseous for a few days, and even without the pasta sauce the meal seemed too much.

“What’s wrong?” Tom frowned at her.

“Just my stomach,” she pushed the plate away and stood up, “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

“You two can eat, I’m gonna help mommy,” Tom smile to the kids before getting up from the table, he wrapped an arm around his wife, trying to help however he could, “Maybe we should stay home.”

She shook her head, “I’m fine, it’s probably just food poisoning or something.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned.

She nodded, “I’m fine.”

Tom held her hair while she emptied her guts into the stomach, rubbing her back and trying to convince her to stay home. She had refused though, instating opting to just sit on the couch while they ate. The kids had dotted on her while Tom did the dishes, until their uncles arrived and sick or not, their parents were no longer interesting enough to keep their attention.

“You okay?” Harry raised a brow at (y/n), his niece already thrown over his shoulder in a fit of giggles.

She nodded, “Just a little sick.”

“I don’t think we’ll be out long,” Tom offered her his hand with a frown, “I’m sure she’ll want to come home quick.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, leaning on him as she stood.

“Last time mommy was sick I got a sister,” their son giggled as Sam lifted him off the ground, “I want a brother this time.”

The adults all froze, everyone stared at (y/n) with wide eyes, “No, no, I’m not pregnant,” she shook her head, “It’s not as bad as it was with either of the kids.”

“You two need to start wrapping it up,” Sam scolded, “We can barely manage the two of them.”

Tom rolled his eyes and passed (y/n) her purse, “I think you’ll survive.”

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Things had only gotten worse after they arrived at the school, (y/n) tried to stay positive while she caught up with old friends, but it was obvious to Tom that she wasn’t feeling well at all. He was dwelling on what their son had said, despite her certainty that it wasn’t anything serious. Both of them were a bit unsure whether or not they wanted another kid, and while they hadn’t been trying, they hadn’t been doing anything to prevent it, figuring it would just happen if it happened.

“Tom,” (y/n) grabbed his arm with a frown, “We’ve gotta go home, I can’t stay here all night.”

He nodded, “Alright, we can go home.”

“Thanks,” she leaned on him on their way out, “Don’t say anything though, I still had fun, and I know you liked it too.”

He laughed as he helped her back into the car, “I won’t rub it in your face until you aren’t sick anymore.”

She rolled her eyes, “Shove it Holland.”

“Unless you aren’t sick,” he hummed.

“Of course I’m sick,” she shot him a glare.

“You sure,” he glanced towards her stomach, “I mean it’s possible.”

She groaned, “No, not another summer pregnancy Tom.”

“I’m just saying it could be, I know you said it doesn’t feel the same, but I mean, no harm in taking a test right?”

“No,” she sighed, “Let’s pick some up.”

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“You guys are back early,” Harry commented as the couple returned home.

“Yeah, she’s not feeling well,” Tom rubbed her stomach with a frown, “We’ll be right back.”

Tom helped her up to their room, only to be left there alone so she could pee. He paced the floor anxiously while he waited for her, excited butterflies starting to flutter in his stomach. When she finally opened the door he froze, just waiting for her to say anything.

“It’s got to sit for another minute,” she sighed, “You wanna come watch it with me?”

He nodded, pushing right past her to peak at the small test sitting on the table, “How long?”

“Another minute or so,” she hummed, “Excited?”

“Yeah, I mean I know we’ve been on the fence about it but I’d be really happy to have another,” he kissed her head, pulling her into his chest, “I think the kids would be excited too.”

She nodded, “We should keep trying if it’s negative.”

“Hey, I’m down to try whenever you want,” he teased.

She laughed, “Yeah, I know you are.”

“And if you are we can celebrate,” he hummed, eyes still locked on the small sticks, “Look there’s one.”

“And...” she leaned in, “Holy shit.”

“Oh my God,” Tom squeezed her waist as a big smile overtook his face, “You’re pregnant!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“Okay calm down, we still have to go to the doctor,” she reminded, turning to face him, “But I’ve never had a false positive before...”

“I love you,” Tom pressed his lips to hers and squeezed her against him with a laugh. “Woah, careful, I’m still sick,” she laughed, “Don’t shake me around too much Tom.”

He nuzzled his nose against hers with a smile, “You’re perfect you know that?”

She rolled her eyes before an excited squealing broke them apart, “Mommy!” their son threw himself at her, latching onto her leg with a smile, “Up!”

“Be gentle with your mom, she’s still sick,” Tom lifted him up with a frown, “How’d you get in here huh? I thought your uncles were watching you.”

“He’s fast,” Sam huffed, following him into the room, “Sorry.”

“Yeah yeah,” Tom ruffled the boys hair, “What do you need you little monster?”

“I just wanted to see mom,” he blushed, “I thought she wouldn’t be sick anymore.”

“She’ll be sick for awhile,” he hummed in response.

Sam knit his brow, looking to (y/n) before his eyes landed on the counter, “Wait, wait, wait, are you actually pregnant?”

(y/n) groaned while their son went wide eyed, “Come on Sam.”

He blushed, “Sorry...”

“Mommy’s pregnant?” their son stared at Tom, waiting for an answer.

“Um, probably,” Tom responded.

“Tom!” (y/n) snapped.

“What? He asked.”

“I might be pregnant,” (y/n) confirmed, “We don’t know yet though.”

“Mommy’s pregnant!” he kicked his way out of Tom’s arms and went sprinting down the hall, screaming the whole way.

(y/n) sighed, “You two are dead.”

“Sorry love,” Tom kissed her head with a smile, “Look if it turns out you aren’t we’ll just keep trying until you are.”

“Ew,” Sam gagged while Tom laughed. The kids came sprinting right back into the room, Harry following behind them now, trying his best but failing to catch up.

“Mommy are you pregnant?” their daughter looked up at her hopefully, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

(y/n) dropped to her knees in front of her, “We don’t know for sure yet sweetie, but maybe.”

“Can I see it?”

She laughed, “No, it’ll be inside of me for a long time first.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it’s gonna stay in my tummy for awhile so it can get a bit bigger.”

“Woah,” she mumbled, staring at her mothers stomach in disbelief, “How’s it gonna come out of there?”

“A doctor will take it out.”

“Woah,” she repeated before leaning in close to her stomach before poking it.

“You have to be gentle,” her brother scolded, “And nice too, it can hear you talking.”

“Hi baby,” she giggled.

The kids continued cooing at her stomach while Tom sat down besides her and dotted kisses over her shoulder, “Much better than a reunion ey?”

She laughed, letting her head fall on his shoulder, “Much.”

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter III

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut.

A/N:ENJOY!!!!

Jungkook shone.  He really, really did. 

You watched him from across the room - the way he drew people in like a magnet.  He was stunning.

You knew he could tell you were watching him.  The way his eyes flickered to yours, and the side of his mouth pulled up slightly. 

Perhaps he enjoyed the power he had over you.  After all, you were his wife.  It was only normal that he wanted you to be attracted to him… Wasn’t it?

You couldn’t ponder on that thought.  Couldn’t let yourself think about Jungkook wanting you to love him.  It was too much - too overwhelming.

You turned from him quickly, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in almost one gulp.  You cringed at the unfamiliar taste - and the burn at back of your throat - but you needed a distraction.  From your husband, of all people.

Your life really was ridiculous. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned quickly, snapped out of your reverie by the sound of your name. 

Kim Namjoon stared back at you, a small smile on his face.

“Namjoon,” You relaxed a little, lips splitting into a smile of your own, “Hi.  How are you?”

“I’m fine,” He gestured at the champagne flute in your hands, “You’re going to snap that.”

You looked down noticing your grip was like a vice and gasped. 

“Shit.”  You loosened your fingers and blushed, “That would’ve been embarrassing.”

He gave you a sympathetic look, “Tough week?”

You groaned, setting the glass to one side and shaking your head, “Tough month.” 

Namjoon and you were fairly close.  The two of you had grown up together - along with Nayeon and Jungkook - and you felt you could genuinely trust him.  He was the only member of the Special Seven - apart from Jungkook of course - that you felt you had a real friendship with.

Namjoon was different to other made men.

He was intelligent and grounded.  He didn’t act on impulse or throw himself into situations he couldn’t handle. 

Namjoon was like the centre of gravity that Bangtan desperately needed.  

You liked that about him.

“It’s not your doting husband, is it?” He asked, raising a sarcastic brow.

You assumed he knew the truth about your marriage - even down to the fact Jungkook had no romantic feelings towards you.  The two of them were close - brothers, really - and you imagined they shared everything with one another. 

“It’s not his fault,” You answered, though you weren’t sure you totally believed it, “We were both… Forced into this.”

“But you love him.”  The words weren’t questioning - they were a statement.  Namjoon always was so intuitive.

“How did you - I  mean… What are you talking about?” He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Anybody with eyes can tell you love him Y/N - that you have loved him for years.” 

Something inside you twinged.

It wasn’t that you cared that other people knew.  You didn’t.  Love wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

It was just…. Well Jungkook knowing that other people knew.

Would he care?

And at this point… Did it even really matter?

“It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way,” You said eventually, deciding it wasn’t even worth it to deny Namjoon’s accusations, “That’s just life.” “Jungkook is an idiot,” Namjoon wrinkled his nose, “He wouldn’t know love or commitment if it whacked him in the fucking face.  He’s spent his entire life dropping women’s panties and not sticking around to get to know them.  He thinks he’s incapable of anything more.”

You raised a brow, “I think he just doesn’t want anything more.”

“Bullshit,” Namjoon shook his head, “He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“And you do?” You replied, smiling a little at the way Namjoon’s brow furrowed into a frown. 

He seemed genuinely annoyed at your husband’s behaviour.

“I know he’s too much of a pussy to even open himself up to the idea of being with you for real,” He shrugged, hands reaching for his pockets, “Even told him so myself.” “Really?  And what did he say?  I’m sure that went down a treat…”

“Told me to fuck off of course.  But what else did I expect from the ever eloquent Jeon Jungkook?”  You laughed at that and so did Namjoon, shaking his head at his younger friend’s apparent stupidity, “Honestly.  I know Jungkook.  And I know that deep down inside, all he really wants is to be loved, Y/N.  And I think you could help him realise that.”

His words warmed you down to the tips of your toes.

“You think so?”

When he nodded, you felt something in your chest expand and lighten.

For the first time since you’d found out about your engagement, you felt a little better about things.

If Namjoon thought Jungkook had the capability to come around.. Then maybe things weren’t so bleak.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly, “Thank you.  For speaking to me.  It really has helped.” “Just being honest,” He shrugged, “Thought you deserved to know my opinion, I guess.” 

“You always have been the smartest Bangtan boy.”

A throat cleared from somewhere to your life and you both turned to look, lips lifting unconsciously into a smile at the sight of your husband.  But Jungkook wasn’t smiling.  In fact, his mouth was pulled taut into a firm line.

And he was… Glaring at Namjoon.

“What are you two talking about?” Jungkook asked, hard eyes turning on you.

You felt a little intimidated by the way his gaze seemed to sear straight through you. 

“Just catching up, Jungkookie.”  You watched your husband cringe at the nickname that rolled off Namjoon's tongue, “Don’t keep her locked away for so long again.”

“I’ll try not to Joonie.”  His eyes were still pitch black, “You ready to go, Y/N?  I’m getting tired.”

You arched a brow at his odd behaviour. 

If you didn’t know any better you would think he was jealous.

But there was absolutely no way Jungkook would feel jealous or possessive over you… Was there?   

“Okay.”  You nodded swiftly and turned to Namjoon, “It was nice speaking to you Joon.  I hope we can catch up again soon.” His eyes were soft and he smiled, “You can count on that.”

You didn’t even realise Jungkook’s hand had slipped into yours until he was pulling you away from the crowd almost roughly.  Namjoon gave you a little wave and a knowing wink, and you shook your head, confused by your husband’s sudden shift in behaviour.

There was no way he was actually jealous, was there?

Not after knowing the way you felt about him.

Not after pushing you away himself and making it clear he wasn’t interested in a real marriage.

No.  You shook your head.

He must just be tired, like he’d said.

When the two of you made your way outside, you finally tugged your husband’s hand and forced him to look at you.

“What?” The word was sharp and angry.

You flinched, “Are you… Okay?”

“Just peachy.  Enjoyed your little chat with Namjoon?”

You followed him down the marble staircase, towards the garage.

“Wait.  Is that why you’re acting like this?”  You were speaking to Jungkook’s back - why was he walking so damn fast? - as you struggled to keep up, “Because I was talking to Namjoon?”

Your husband decided not to answer as he grabbed the keys wordlessly from the valet and continued making his way towards the car.  You trailed after him, feeling dejected and hurt by his sudden sourly attitude. 

What right did he have to be angry at you when all you had been doing was talking to a friend?

“Jungkook!” 

His name flew out of you angrily, just as the two of you reached the car.

He froze for a moment, and then turned, eyes hard like two glass balls of obsidian black.

You finally caught up with him, confused and hurt at the way he was treating you.  It made absolutely no sense.  

“Why are you mad at me?” “I’m not mad.” You rolled your eyes, “Obviously you are.  I’m not stupid.  So why are you mad?” “I’m not mad,” He answered unlocking the car and - despite his apparent fury - opening the passenger door for you, “I just find it sweet that you and Namjoon seem to get on so well.”

He slammed his own car door shut and your fingers twitched as you clicked in your seatbelt.

“You’re being stupid.” He turned to you again, his eyes wide, “Sorry what?  This coming from the woman that basically pissed on me in front of Jihyo to mark her territory?” Ok.  Now you were mad.

“How the fuck can you even compare the two?”  You couldn’t believe how irrational he was being, “She was literally all over you.” “So was Namjoon!”

“Oh my god.”  You tugged a hand through your hair, “You’re an idiot.” “I’m an idiot am I?  For finding it uncomfortable that my wife and my best friend spent the evening flirting right in front of me?” “Why do you even care?”  Your eyes were watering with angry tears but you bit them back, “You made it very clear that you aren’t interested in making this marriage work the way I want it to.  So what does it matter if I flirt with Namjoon?” You knew maybe your words weren’t the wisest.  Perhaps you should’ve assured him that the reality was all you’d spoken to Namjoon about was how much you loved your oblivious husband.

But he’d hurt you.  You sort of wanted to hurt him back.

“Right,” He seethed, “So it’s not alright for me to have an affair, but totally fine for you to?”

Your heart clenched.

“Oh my god.  Oh MY GOD.  Jungkook what the fuck?  We were talking about you for god’s sake.  Okay?!”  You pinched the bridge of your nose and felt the tears catch on the edge of your fingers, “What the hell?  Why would I ever cheat on you?  Not only am I completely in love with you but Namjoon is your best friend!  Jesus.”

The words were like lava spilling from your mouth, hardening everything they touched.

You couldn’t take it back.  It was all out there in the open.

Completely in love with you, you’d said.

Shit.

You squeezed your eyes shut, counting to ten.  Waiting for something.  Anything.

After a moment, your husband cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Your pulse jumped.

“What?” You opened your eyes and when you looked at Jungkook, he was already regarding you with something… Different.  It wasn’t the same affection he usually regarded you with.  It was… Deeper.  You didn’t know what it was.

But it sort of scared you.  In a good way.

“I said I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”  He shook his head and tugged a hand through his hair, “I was...Jealous.”

The word fell like a stone between the two of you.

“What?”  Your voice was like the wind, almost, “Why would you be jealous?” He smiled - small and gently - and shrugged, “You’re my wife.  That means something, doesn’t it?  So I don’t - I wasn’t thinking straight.  I reacted badly.  Forgive me.”

Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

“So it was a possessive thing,” You answered, licking your bottom lip.  Your husband’s eyes flickered to your mouth, “You wanted to stake your claim on me.”

He shook his head, “No.  It was more than that.”  He clicked his tongue, “I was jealous that you weren’t with me.  He made you laugh.  I hated that.”

Now you were sure you must be dreaming. 

There was no way your husband was saying these things.

You tucked your lip between your teeth, “What does that mean?” He shook his head, eyes searching your face before they fell on your mouth again.

“I don’t know.”

He leaned in slightly and you held your breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?”  You whispered - nerves wracking through your body hotly.  

It felt like the world stood still for a moment.  And then Jungkook’s eyes softened like butter. “Yeah.  I am.  If that’s okay?”

You nodded stiffly. And then he kissed you.

Your body hummed to life at the contact eyes falling closed immediately as you allowed your husband to bundle you up in his arms.  It was uncomfortable of course - cramped in the front seat of the car - but Junkook picked you up and pulled you towards him, anyway.

You giggled as your dress caught on the gear shift, and your husband laughed, pressing his forward to yours, settling you into his lap.

“You look beautiful,” He told you honestly, eyes earnest, “Did I tell you that already?” You shook your head - breathless and hot all over.

Jungkook - your Jungkook - was kissing you.

He was kissing you.  And he seemed to be really enjoying himself.

“Well you do,” He said decidedly, pressing his lips to your collarbone as he pushed the strap of your dress further down your arm, “You look beautiful.” Your heart caught in your chest, and it felt almost like you were on fire.

Everything Jungkook’s lips touched tingled, and even though you knew this was actually happening, it still felt like some kind of vivid dream.

“Thank you,” You whispered breathlessly, not knowing what else to say.

Jungkook smiled softly at your words, his mouth moving towards your collarbone and pressing kisses against the skin there. 

“I love these freckles,” He groaned, tracing the dots with the tip of his nose, “So cute.” Your heart flipped and you sighed, “Thank you.” 

He pulled away a little and pressed his forward to yours, chuckling softly.

“That’s all you have to say?”

You felt dazed as you stared back at him, “Huh?”

“Thank you,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your brow, “It’s all you have to say, it seems.”

“I’m a little…” You cleared your throat and felt a shiver crawl up your spine as Jungkook tucked some hair behind your ear, “Lost for words.”

Your husband smiled - self-satisfied and a little proud, “C’mere.”

He leaned towards you and once again you were swept up by his kisses.  It felt as though you were spinning out of axis - but it was so good.  Nothing had ever come close to this and you told yourself that if this was it - if this was the only time Jungkook was going to kiss you - then you were going to make it count.

You brought your shaky hands up to his chest, intending to push his jacket off his shoulders, but losing your nerve along the way.  Instead you tightened your grip on the material of his blazer.  You felt him smirk against your lips.

“Want me to take it off?” He asked, after a moment, pulling away so he could search your face for an answer.

You expected him to be cocky - smug - but instead his gaze was just questioning.  Your heart twisted. 

“Yeah,” You nodded furiously, “Please.”

He smiled again, and did as you’d told him to, removing the jacket and throwing it somewhere to your left.  You continued kissing him with fervor - making up for your lack of experience with enthusiasm - and after a while you felt his lips venture towards your throat… 

And then lower to the valley of your breasts.

And - for some reason unbeknownst to you - you froze.

Jungkook took that as a cue to stop and pulled away, a dark brow arched.

“Sorry.”  His hair was all out of place, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I liked it.”  You assured him, feeling your heartbeat pulling out of your chest, “I just… This is my first time doing anything like…. This.”

“Right.”  He still seemed unconvinced.

“But I’m enjoying myself.  I was enjoying myself.  All of it.” 

Jungkook’s eyes were warmer than you’d ever seen them.  He pushed your hair out of your face and bit his bottom lip.

“We should probably stop anyway.”  

Your heart fell. 

“Oh.”

“We’re in the front seat of a car - anybody could walk by,” He added on, eyes following your expression carefully, “Not exactly a good idea.”

“Okay,” You nodded, suddenly realising the position you were in.

Jungkook had pushed the straps of your dress down your arm - exposing more of your cleavage than you probably were comfortable showing in public - your hair was a mess, your lips were puffy and your make up was probably all smudged.

You made to climb off your husband’s lap, before Jungkook grabbed the back of your head gently.  He forced you to look at him.

“I was enjoying myself, too.  For the record.”

And then he kissed you again, once, soundly - on the mouth.

God. 

You really did love him.

//

The days after your tryst in the car were filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook had driven the both of you home in almost complete silence - save for the murmuring of the radio - and when you climbed into bed that night, the only thing he offered you was an arm to cuddle into.

You’d taken it of course - gladly - and every night since then the two of you moved towards one another as soon as the bedside lamp clicked off.

But it wasn’t enough for you.

And apart from night time snuggling - nothing much had changed about your relationship.

But after having felt Jungkook’s lips on your own - felt the way his kisses seared straight through you - you wanted that feeling again.  And despite what he’d said about enjoying himself… You wondered if maybe that was just to spare your feelings.

Perhaps he’d realised all at once how little he was attracted to you.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t made a move since.

The thought caused your throat to clog up, and your heart to clench, so you pushed it all back down, trying not to think about it.

Instead you found another pet project - this one a pair of dark blue jeans that Jungkook had ripped a hole through.  You’d heard him complaining to his butler, Minhyuk, about how they were his favourite pair, and you wanted to fix them for him.

You sat in the same armchair you always did - tucked into the corner of the master bedroom - and listened to the radio mumbling gently in the background.  It was some stupid cheesy love song, but still the lyrics caused the same feelings you tried so very hard to push back down, to bubble up.

A figure in the doorway paused your actions and you looked up.

It was your husband.  His eyes were unreadable.

“Jungkook,” You smiled softly, “Hi.”

You couldn’t hide your content at seeing him - could never hide how happy he made you - and you resigned yourself to stop trying.

He didn’t say a word.  Instead he walked over to you carefully and fingered the material of the jeans.

“Oh.”  You laughed gently, “I just heard you talking about them the other day.  Thought I could pull my weight around here.”

Your movements had stopped, but Jungkook’s big hand came to rest over your own.

He bent down so that his face was level with yours.

“You didn’t have to do that.”  His eyes were like two balls of fire now, melting you from the inside out.

You felt your bottom lip tremble, “I know.”

And then his mouth was on yours.  He took the jeans out of your hand and set them to one side, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing at all.

You giggled a little, and when Jungkook pulled away to watch you laugh, he couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out.

“You’re so…”  He didn’t finish the sentence, instead leading you over to the bed and laying you down.

His eyes were questioning as he played with the hem of your t-shirt, and without a second thought you lifted your arms, letting him pull it over your head.  It was embarrassing of course.

The first time Jungkook would see you in underwear and you were wearing the most unflattering beige bra.  But he didn’t seem to mind.

He helped you unhook the bra, and when your hands came to cover your breasts, he stopped you.

“Let me see them.  Please.”  His eyes were hot and you felt like you were suffocating almost.

You nodded wordlessly and pulled your arms down, watching as Jungkook took in your naked torso.  

“Fuck.  So beautiful.”  He whispered, leaning down and pressing his mouth against your breasts. 

You arched against him, feeling as though you were going to explode just from that one touch, and Jungkook smiled, “So sensitive, too.”

His lips moved to your nipple, and he sucked gently, watching you attentively.  His body was completely taut - waiting for your reactions - and when you moaned wantonly he smirked.

“Fuck,” You whispered and your husband clicked his tongue teasingly.

“Such profanity.”  He smirked and tugged your trousers down slowly, “Guess we’ll have to clean your mouth out with soap, Angel.” The nickname was like a surge of warmth, straight to your core.  He’d barely touched you and already you were panting like you could no longer take it.

“Please Jungkook,” You begged, not even knowing what you were begging for, “Please.” “Alright, shhh, shhh.  I’ll give you what you want baby,” His lips played with the hem of your panties, and after a moment he pulled those down too, “C’mere.” And then his mouth was on you and it felt like time itself had stood still.  You arched your back almost completely off the bed - and if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s steadying hands on your thighs you might have melted to the ground right then.

He licked at you diligently, and you found yourself winding tighter and tighter like a coil about to break from the pressure.

“Oh god… Oh god…”

His eyes bore straight through yours, and you felt like you might pass out from the intensity.  

“That’s it,” He whispered, removing his mouth and using his hands instead, “Cum for me Angel.”

And finally, a wave of indescribable pleasure washed over you.  It was so strong you thought you might shatter into a thousand pieces.

Jungkook coaxed you through your climax, and when you finally came down from your high - your bones like jelly - he climbed up your body and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“A thank you,” He smiled boyishly, “For the jeans.”

Your eyes were round and wide as you stared up at him, “But don’t you want-” 

“Nope.  Don’t need it.”

Jungkook pulled you under the covers, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you towards his chest. 

“But  Jungkook-”

“Sleep Angel.”  A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead, “We’ve got plenty of time for everything else.”

And in that heart-wrenching moment you realised that Jeon Jungkook not only owned your heart - he owned your body, mind and soul too.

“Okay,” You whispered, pressing a kiss against the firm plane of his chest, “Goodnight.” 

That night, you slept like a baby.

//

[awindylife-writes]

Voyage of the Damned Part 2

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die

"Oi, Steward! I'm telling you, the shields are down!" a new man yelled.

"LISTEN TO HIM! LISTEN TO HIM!" the Doctor desparately screamed in the Steward's face. The two crewmen let him go and you didn't know it, but it was too late.

A moment later the ship started rocking like it was being torn apart, because it was. You lost your footing and fell back as everything turned sideways.

"Y/N!!!!" you heard the Doctor's terrified scream through the noise of the ship's destruction and the cries of other passengers. You couldn't even get a good look at where he was before something in the walls exploded and you threw yourself away.

You found Astrid near you and thank god for that. "I've got you!" you yelled over the noise and gripped her tight as you tried to shield her from the hell around you.

Then there were arms around you too, holding you up and protecting you. You knew those arms.

The Doctor had found you and the three of you clung to each other in that madness. You could feel each shudder of the ship like a wave of an earthquake. You tried to keep yourself steady and upright but you were the snow in a snowglobe someone was shaking. Balance was a mith and everything was being ripped apart. Various pieces of equipment were falling on all sides, there was fire burning all around you; you could feel its heat on your skin and you breathed its smoke. You felt sick from being thrown around but you were too terrified to hurl.

You couldn't close your eyes even though you wanted to. Everything in you was screaming to watch out for danger, but there was so much of it around you you didn't know where to look. You stared at disaster over Astrid's shoulder and the Doctor's arm. Shadow and light mixed into a disorienting mess and the shades the fire threw joined the dance. You coudn't distinguish what was near and what was far but you still looked.

The only thing you could do was clutch Astrid and the Doctor with all the strength you possessed and wish they wouldn't be harmed.

Finally you were thrown to the side in one last bang and then it stopped. You were lying on the floor and partly on the Doctor. He was on his back, still holding you and Astrid.

After a breath he let go, then stood up and swiftly looked around. You sat up, thankful you were still in one piece. You let go of Astrid enough to check her over and relief washed over you when you found out she was unharmed. You were about to yell if everyone was okay but the Doctor sushed you. After a moment of absolute silence he quetly declared, "It's stopping."

He then looked down at you in worry and offered you a hand. "You alright?"

As you quietly nodded, he looked over at your friend. "Astrid?"

She nodded too and took the hand he'd offered her. He pulled both of you to your feet.

"Bad name for a ship," he told you, scowling. "Either that, or this suit is really unlucky."

"We'll get you a new one and then we'll test that theory," you smiled weakly at him.

He looked at you, grateful, and then you heard Astrid suck in a breath.

The three of you looked down at the unlucky officer who was on the ground close to you. The Doctor kneeled to check him over. You saw him shake his head at the Steward and your stomack turned to stone.

~

The Steward was dead now too. You looked out the door with the Doctor, at the wreckage and the distant Earth. Still beautiful, you thought to yourself. You were a bit dazed, nothing felt real and everything was too real at the same time.

You knew you never wanted to feel so powerless again, but you also knew that drive was in you still. You would help where you could.

You gathered yourself and asked, "What happened?"

"How come the shields were down?" Astrid demanded a second later. You jumped, you hadn't noticed her there. She smiled gently at you, blue eyes kind, and caressed your shoulder. You managed a small, grateful smile in return.

"I don't think it was an accident," the Doctor growled. You figured that.

"How many dead?" Astrid and you asked in one voice, both looking at the Steward's body out in space. She was indignant though, while you were simply sad.

"We're alive," the Doctor answered her and then looked at you. "Focus on that," he told you gently. He knew what people being hurt did to you.

"I'll get you out of here," his voice was soft but firm. Then he turned to Astrid and you followed his eyes. She was trembling, still looking out at the result of the hell you all had endured. You took her hand into yours and squeezed it.

"I will get you both out of here," the Doctor assured her. "Astrid, l promise. Look at me." He held her shoulders and when she found his eyes, he assured her again, "I promise."

You were glad, because when the Doctor promised something, it happened. You needed her to live. Even if she'd want nothing to do with you after this, you needed her to live. Even if she had been anyone else, you would have done your damnest to ensure she survived, but Astrid was extraordinary. To think about the universe without her?

No. No.

After she nodded shakily, he concluded, "Good," and turned around. He went on about reception but you tuned him out. Instead, you looked Astrid in the eye and then pulled her closer. She gratefully accepted the hug.

"You heard what the Doctor said and l'll say it too. I promise we'll get you out of here." You squeezed her shoulder in emphasis.

She breathed deeply and slowly let go. Then she smiled and her bright eyes crincled. "Thank you," she told you gratefully. You nodded and swung your still joined hands.

"You know, l met you about two hours ago, but now l think l've known you for years," she said in wonder.

"Yeah?" you asked her and she nodded, still smiling. "I feel that way too," you told her, giddy in this moment. You both grinned at each other.

"Oh," the Doctor's sad voice cut through.

You whirled around. "What is it what's wrong?"

"That's the TARDIS over there," he told you and you desparately searched for the blue box with your eyes. He was right, it was spinning in zero gravity, so close but still out of your reach.

"What is that?" Astrid asked in confusion.

"It's our ship," you told her, throat tight. "It's our home."

"And it's programmed to lock onto the nearest centre of gravity, and that would be the Earth."

~

You took care of the other passengers with Astrid as the Doctor talked to the bridge. You overheard enough to know the picture.

"Are we going to die?" Foon asked and everything started going downhill.

The Doctor sushed the frightened passengers. "First things first," he began in a determined voice. "One, we're gonna climb through this ship. B, no, two, we're gonna reach the bridge. Three, or c, we're gonna save the Titanic. And, coming in a very low four, or d, or that little iv in brackets they use in footnotes, follow me."

Good, that was good, you thought to yourself. Always good to establish a goal.

"Hang on a minute." The fricking billionare decided to show he's an ass. "Who put you in charge?" he demanded. "And who the hell are you anyway."

"I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord." Sparks flew behind him and he was suddenly bigger than everyone in the hall.

"I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Casterbourus." You were grinning like mad. You could almost hear magestic music playing.

"I'm nine hundred and three years old, and l'm the man who's gonna save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below. And she's gonna help," he interjected, looking at you. "Have you got a problem with that?" he asked the billionare.

"No," the man admitted, baffled.

The Doctor turned to you. "In that case..."

"Allons-y," you said for him with a smile and started walking. You turned back, grinning at the group as the Doctor fell into step with you. You found Astrid with your eyes and nodded your head for her to join you.

~

"This whole thing could come crashing down any minute!" the billionare whined as he helped you clear the staircase of debris.

"Oh, Brixton, did you get that message?" you asked him sweetly.

He frowned in confusion. "No, what message?"

"Shut up," you told him, not covering up your annoyance.

Then you heard from above, "Bannacafalata, made it!"

You climbed up behind Astrid. You weren't about to leave her alone on this bloody ship.

~

Foon's screams echoed in the chasm. Death, death, all around you death, whywhywhywhy WHY?!?!

~

"Alright, when it's ready, that blue light comes on there," the Doctor pointed at the spot on the battery Bannacafalata had given you. Another person you hadn't been able to save.

Astrid frowned. "You're talking as if you two aren't coming with us."

"There's something down on deck thirty-one," you told her, "and we're gonna find out what it is."

"But what if you meet a Host?" She was worried about you and the thought melted your heart.

"Well, then we'll just..." The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows at you, smiling, "have some fun."

"Sounds like you two do this kinda thing all the time," Astrid added nonchalantly.

"Not by choice," you assured her, voice soft.

"Yeah, all we do is travel," the Doctor pitched in.

"Imagine it," you told her, suddenly wishing with all your heart you were out there, with her in the stars. "No stakes, no bills, no boss. Just the open sky." The wonder you felt when you thought about all you've seen seeped into your voice. There was all that space out there, so much room to wonder, so many skies to see.

"I'm sort of, uh, unemployed? Um, now," she answered as you looked at her expectantly. "I was thinking that blue box is, kinda small," she raised her eyebrows, "but l could... squeeze in? Like a stowaway!" Her eyes were so full of hope and your heart was bursting.

"It's not always safe," the Doctor's voice cut through the feeling. And you remembered. You remembered Foon and Morvin and Bannacafalata. How could you have forgotten???

"So you two need someone to take care of you," she protested. "I've got no one back on Stoe, no family. Just... me." She looked at you, blue eyes pleading. "So what do you think? Can l come with you?"

The Doctor smiled and looked at you. You were already grinning and nodding at Astrid, so incredibly happy. It was decided. "Yeah, we'd like that," the Doctor answered while you nodded on enthusiastically.

Her lips stretched into a wide grin and you pulled her close. You hugged her tightly, with a bright future ahead of you.

And then all three of you fell to the ground as the room shook.

~

"All charged up!" the Doctor yelled as the blue light came on. You all hurried back to the two waiting men. "Mister Copper, look after her; Astrid, look after him." He pointed at them. "Brixton, um..." he trailed off at a loss for words. "Look after yourself," he finally finished.

"We'll see you again," you reassured Astrid. "I promise." You steadily held her gaze so she knew you meant it.

And then you were off, running to the door on the other side of the hall.

"Hold on!" she called after you. "There's an old tradition on Stoe!"

"We've really got to go," the Doctor told her and you swatted his arm.

"Just wait a minute!" she yelled as she ran up to you.

She stopped in front of you, cradled your face and deftly kissed your cheek. "You'll get the other when you come back," she told you, smiling, then turned to the Doctor and did the same.

"See you later!" she called after you when you turned to leave.

"Not if l see you first!" you told her over your shoulder, a huge grin splitting your face.

"What she said," the Doctor joined in.

After seeing Astrid smile in turn, you were gone.

[jeonsjiddies]

Lying That You Love Me | myg (m)

Summary - Upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running. You never could have imagined Min Yoongi would be the one to put your pieces back together, but there is always more than meets the eye.

Word Count - 10.5k

Pairing - Yoongi x reader

Genre - smut, minor angst

Warnings - mentions of broken family, family issues, mentions of homelessness, softdom!yoongi, dirty talk, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (female)

a/n - Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! 💕 Sorry it’s soooo late, I sprained my wrist lol. Hope you enjoy now that it’s finally here! Huge thanks to @nervouskiwi​ , @sunshinekims​ , and @excusemin​ for beta reading.  💕

You know those people you just instantly connect with? You hear their laugh one time and suddenly you feel more connected to a stranger than a friend you've known your whole life? Something in their smile that resonates deep within your soul, that somehow, on some level (whether it be friends or lovers or a kind stranger who changed your life in passing only to never meet again) you are just... meant to find each other. 

Those people who feel like sunshine on your cloudy days? The ones who wrap you in warmth and make your heart say "Ah, yes, so this is what home is supposed to feel like. This is what it means to belong. This is what it means to be myself, unafraid."

Somehow, amidst all the chaos and the heartbreak and the hurt, you find yourself cocooned in safety, building your own version of home with these strangers who feel like family; and it's good.  And sometimes your heart beats so fast and your chest feels so tight and you feel like you just can't breathe, so you reach out a hand into the dark unknown and you're met with arms wrapping around you and holding you together. Holding you until all your broken pieces can be glued back together, one by one.

Min Yoongi was one of those people. 

Now, upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. He looked more like someone who was one wrong look away from tearing you to shreds. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running.

But you… you were a little different. You’d taken one look at the man covered in intricate inky designs and your face had lit up with glee. A few hours prior to meeting Yoongi, you’d been sitting in your car, reclined back with your phone, leeching off of McDonald’s free wifi for the 11th night in a row. Your back ached, your stomach growled, and your foot was one more cramp away from being the end of you. The tiny cabin of your car was no place for you to live.

You scrolled through rental listings, looking for the cheapest option that didn’t look like it popped straight out of a horror movie. Your budget was low, being recently thrown out by your father after a fight about you dropping out of college. Your father was convinced you couldn’t survive on your own and you wanted to prove him wrong.

Finally stumbling upon a small 2 bedroom apartment on the west side of town leasing out the second bedroom, you clicked on the listing. There was no way you’d be able to afford your own apartment in a safe area, so you’d ended up expanding your search to find someone looking for a roommate. You zoomed in on the pictures provided, though there were few, it looked pretty nice. You scrolled down and read the description.

Single male, 27, searching for a roommate. You pay half the rent and utilities. Rent is $950 and utilities usually range about $300 a month, give or take. Pets welcome, but there is a deposit with the apartment complex and a monthly fee. My friend (and ex roommate) recently moved in with his long-time girlfriend and I need someone to help with expenses. Serious inquiries only. Contact for more info. 555-555-1382.

You quickly typed the number into your phone and texted the man to set up a time to view the apartment, but if you were being honest with yourself, you were already sold. This was the cleanest looking unit you’d seen, on a safe side of town, and it was more affordable than anything else you were going to get that was half as nice.

The man was quick with responses and very polite, and the two of you agreed to meet that evening at 4pm. You were absolutely giddy, a petty smirk on your face as you imagined telling your father that you indeed weren’t coming home, tail between your legs. You would not allow him to dictate your life anymore.

3:30 rolled around and you made your way over to the area the apartment was listed in, not wanting to be late. The apartment was part of a large building that was clearly a few years old but still in good shape. You looked around, noting that the nearby houses were well-worn but not worn down. It looked like a good area, and based on your Trulia searches, the crime was low here. 

You smiled from your parking space and waited until 3:55 to walk up to the buzzer, hitting the button for apartment 5D which had Min Yoongi listed as a resident. Yoongi. You liked that name. You grinned when a deep voice came over the speaker, asking who was there.

“It’s Y/N, we have a 4pm appointment for me to see the apartment?” you answered back cheerily. 

“Oh, yes, come on up.” before he was even done speaking, you heard the door click as he unlocked it. 

You pulled open the heavy door and began making your way up the staircase, glancing around for the correct apartment. Near the end of the hallway, you finally spotted your destination, nestled in the corner by a large window that looked out to the rest of the apartment complex. There was a playground and a tennis court, without a net, but you didn’t really care. 

You gently knocked against the wooden door, the only one without some form of decoration on the outside and waited for the man to appear and let you inside. You weren’t sure what kind of person you expected to see on the other side of the wooden door; you really hadn’t given it much thought. You were entirely unprepared however, to see the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on swinging the door open and dusting his hands on his worn jeans before flicking his onyx gaze up to meet yours, pinning you to your spot.

You snapped out of your haze and allowed your eyes to roam over his features, from his button nose to his full lips, to his toned arms, covered with decorative tattoos, beautiful inky designs trailing from his knuckles all the way up his veiny forearms, past his biceps, and disappearing into the sleeve of his t shirt. You sucked in a breath, noticing the eyebrow ring and multiple ear piercings.

“Y/N, nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi.” he smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth, something shiny catching the light when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. A tongue ring.

A shiver ran through your body but you reached out your hand to shake his extended one. His large hand seemed to engulf yours, the veins prominent and a little distracting. Your face lit up in a grin, knowing that if your dad took one look at this man, he’d surely lose his mind.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Yoongi, thank you for meeting me on such short notice!” you smiled, allowing your hand to slip from his grasp and biting back the whine at the loss of contact.

“Come on in, have a look around. Like I said in the ad, my friend moved in with his girlfriend and left me to fend for myself. He did have the smaller bedroom but if that’s an issue, we can switch, if you’re interested that is.” he chuckled nervously, reaching his arm up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh, I am interested.” you giggled, looking around the spacey living room, which had an open concept that led into a small kitchen, but it looked like it had decent counter space. 

“Oh! This is the kitchen…” Yoongi began, leading you over to get a better look after seeing where your eyes were wandering. 

“It’s very roomy.” you noted with a smile.

“Jin did most of the cooking, but I helped out sometimes and we both fit in here pretty easily without getting in each other’s way.” he explained.

“Ooh, you cook?” you turned your gaze to him and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“A little.” he admitted.

“Nice. Me too.” you grinned. 

“Cool.” he grinned, his smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, the best way you could describe it was… gummy. Sweet. Warm.

Yoongi led you on a tour of the rest of the house, showing you your future bedroom, which was furnished since his previous roommate hadn’t needed to take his bed with him, his bedroom, the bathroom you’d share, and the small laundry unit in the hallway, hidden behind a closet-like door. Nice. In-unit laundry was a definite plus.

The apartment wasn’t super spacious, the bedrooms were on the smaller side, but the living room and kitchen were nice sizes, and there was in-unit laundry, and Yoongi seemed like a very clean, respectful individual. You were sold before you’d walked in, but now you were over the moon about the small patch of paradise you’d stumbled upon.

“Is there a deposit required? Or just first and last month's rent?” you asked Yoongi, who’d taken a seat across from you at the table.

“Oh, just the first month’s rent is fine. I’m not like a landlord or anything.” he said, shooting you a playful smile.

“Okay. Do you want a check or…?” you questioned. “I mean, if you’re willing to let me lease with you.” 

“Of course! Check, cash, money order. I really don’t have a preference. If you want a paper trail with the office, we can do a check or money order.” he smiled.

You grinned back at the sheepish man across from you, his eyes shining with excitement. You were absolutely psyched to sleep in a real bed again, so tired of the worn leather seats in your car. Thank goodness it wasn’t summer so your skin wasn’t sticking to the material, but still. It wasn’t exactly a preferred sleeping space.

You ended up going to the ATM and giving Yoongi cash for the first month after adding your name to the lease just before the rental office closed. You both pitched in on a celebratory pizza and ate in the living room. You were surprised the rental office didn’t have to run a background check or something, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to sleep in the apartment the same day you’d first laid eyes on it, but you weren’t complaining.

You stayed up with Yoongi until nearly 2am talking, drinking, laughing, and getting to know each other. He loved watching WWE, you loved watching K-dramas, he liked pineapple on his pizza and you thought that was basically blasphemy. Yoongi had braces growing up, had an older brother, preferred staying indoors to going out, and had a nasty habit he couldn’t seem to shake of biting his nails.

Yoongi was funny and warm and inviting. Though he seemed cold on the outside, he was actually very attentive and caring, always offering to refill your drink when he stood up, offering you a spare blanket if you looked cold, and making sure you felt comfortable as possible in your new home. You blamed it on the alcohol, but ended up getting way too personal too fast, telling Yoongi about why you’d moved in to begin with. 

“... and he’s so condescending and judgemental, like he would hate your tattoos and immediately label you a delinquent just based on that alone.” you took a breath after rambling on for a few minutes, letting out your frustration for your situation.

“Wow, that’s… a lot,” Yoongi shook his head sympathetically, “it’s your life, you should do what makes you happy. It’s not his place to control everything you do.” 

“He always has to be right, it’s exhausting.” you sighed.

“Well hey, bright side, you’re here now, and you’re free to be who you want and do whatever your heart desires. I fully support you.” Yoongi smiled at you and your heart seemed to grow three sizes. 

“Thank you, Yoongi. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Do you have anything you need washed?” you asked Yoongi, gesturing to the washing machine that wasn’t even half full. 

“Don’t you have any more clothes than that?” Yoongi asked.

For weeks, you’d been cycling the same three outfits you’d been able to bring with you in a small backpack when you’d left home.You’d thought about going back home to get the rest of your things, but you really didn’t want to face your father. You weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you’d love to rub it in his face that you hadn’t failed as he’d expected you to do. You just didn’t want to deal with him yet. 

Being around Yoongi, having the freedom to be yourself and being so wholly accepted for exactly who you were was intoxicating, and you weren’t ready to go back into that suffocating environment full of judgement and expectations, even for a short time. You were strong and resilient, but you also knew that your family issues were a sore spot for you.

“I do at my parents house. I just haven’t had a chance to go get my stuff.” you shrugged, starting the washer.

“You haven’t had a chance? Between lounging around watching Netflix and binge eating takeout?” Yoongi chuckled, leaning up against the wall and regarding you with a curious look.

“I’ve had time,” you emphasize with a sigh, “I just… I’m not ready to go there alone.”

“What if you weren’t alone?” 

You looked up to meet Yoongi’s gaze in surprise, a supportive smile playing on his soft lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your chest filling with hope.

“If you want, I can go with you?” he offered.

“Really? You’d do that?” you tried to keep the astonishment out of your voice in an attempt to not look as pathetic and weak as you felt.

“Yeah, we can take my car, it’s bigger than yours anyway.” he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and walking closer to you.

“Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” you grinned, reaching up to hug him.

Yoongi was used to your affectionate nature, but sometimes it still caught him off guard, as he wasn’t an affectionate person. He wanted to be, he just wasn’t always comfortable using physical affection. He froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and wrapped his arms around your torso to return your hug. 

“Yes, but feel free to remind me anytime. My fragile ego needs it.” he joked, poking your side playfully.

You released him from your hold with a light chuckle, stepping back and grinning up at him. He coughed and looked down to hide his shy smile from your view.

“Let’s go.” 

“Wait, right now?” you gasped, eyes wide.

“Do you have other plans?” he questioned with a raised brow. 

“Well, no… but I-” you began but Yoongi sent you a look that had you slipping on your shoes and following him out the door.

Yoongi smirked to himself at how easily you caved into him with just a stern look, unlocking the car and ushering you in before settling in the driver's seat and starting the engine. You couldn’t stop bouncing your leg from nerves, and Yoongi glanced your way every so often before gently placing his large hand on your knee for comfort. Except it did little to comfort you, having his veiny hands on your body only sent your heart into overdrive and caused your breathing to become that much shallower. You gave him an A for effort though.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m right here,” he soothed, “I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you smiled appreciatively, placing your hand on top of his for a moment before looking out the window, watching the trees fly by as you got closer to your parents house. 

You hadn’t alerted your parents that you’d be coming, part of you hoping they wouldn’t be home and you could use the spare key to get your things and get out without having to interact with your father. 

When the GPS announced you were one turn away, your hopes were crushed into a fine powder as you finally looked up and shrank back into your seat when you saw both of your parents’ vehicles occupying the driveway. Yoongi pulled in behind your mom’s car and cut the engine, turning to look at you. You met his gaze with your panicked one and he motioned for you to breathe with him, taking a few deep breaths and guiding you to calm yourself.

“You got this. You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” you sighed, stepping out of his car and meeting him before walking to the front door.

You gripped his hand tightly, and Yoongi looked down at your conjoined hands in surprise but didn’t say anything, realizing that you needed the support.He squeezed your hand gently before rapping softly on the door. Your whole body tensed when you heard the lock click and Yoongi gave your hand another encouraging squeeze. The door swung open and your mother’s face was revealed, causing the hole in your chest to clench. 

“Y/N!” she gasped, her eyes trailing along your form, down to your hands, then up Yoongi’s arms to his face, her expression one of astonishment.

“Hi, mom.” you coughed awkwardly.

“Y/N’s here?” you heard from behind her, the smug voice of your father grating against your ears. “Our little baby came home to admit we were right?”

His grinning face came into your view, standing just behind your mother, his smirk immediately falling once he laid eyes on Yoongi.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“This is Yoongi, he’s my-” you began.

“Are you dating this man?” your father interrupted, sounding panicked.

Your eyes flitted from your mom’s face to your dad’s, turning red with frustration. He had always hated people with tattoos, and you’d warned Yoongi about this. You didn’t think he’d get this worked up about it, and suddenly an idea popped in your head, and just as Yoongi was about to argue that you weren’t dating amidst your silence, you spoke up.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” you said quickly, squeezing Yoongi’s hand in an attempt to beg him to go along with it.

Yoongi’s breath caught and he coughed into his elbow uncomfortably, but gave a sheepish grin when he recovered, letting go of your hand and extending his out to your parents.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m Min Yoongi.”

Your mother stared at his hand hanging in the air like it was a foreign object before she collected herself, gingerly taking his hand in hers. Your father followed suit, his expression hard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.” your mom smiled, warming up to Yoongi’s polite aura.

“I’m very honored to finally meet you. I see where Y/N gets her pretty eyes from.” Yoongi smiled, causing your mom to turn bashful and swat at him playfully.

Your dad hadn’t budged an inch, his hard gaze focused on the man at your side, scrutinizing and unwelcoming. His eyes wandered over Yoongi’s plethora of tattoos, many piercings, and ripped jeans. He made a face of distaste before turning his gaze to you.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered.

“We’re getting some of my stuff to take back home.” you explained.

“Home? You live with this man?!” you dad guffawed. 

“Yes, we live together.” Yoongi supplied for you, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

He mostly wanted to be a shield for you against your father, as he could tell you were starting to shrink in on yourself, and he wanted to offer you a little more strength. You smiled up at him, hoping your eyes showed your thankfulness.

“Absolutely not, young lady. I won’t permit it.” your father hissed.

“With all due respect, you don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m an adult, and you kicked me out.” you shrugged, using your best acting skills to appear nonchalant.Yoongi felt your body shivering slightly against his.

“I- You-” your dad fumed. 

“Why don’t we grab your clothes and come back for the rest when everyone has calmed down a little?” Yoongi offered quietly in your ear.

You nodded, pulling him along with you to your old bedroom. You felt your dad’s piercing gaze follow you down the hallway, but you ignored it. You grabbed some clothes and a few other things, throwing them in a decorative tote you’d once used to house scrapbooking supplies. Yoongi took the tote from you and led the way back out of the house, your hand clutching the back of his shirt like a safety blanket, the other arm filled with more clothes.

Your mom watched you quietly, with a sullen expression, seeming to try and express her apologies through her eyes while your dad seethed from his recliner, refusing to look at you. You sighed, taking a look around the house you used to call home before announcing your departure and waving goodbye, following Yoongi out the front door.

Once you’d placed the things in the back of the car and sat in the passenger seat, your body deflated. Yoongi began driving, to get you out of the line of sight of your parents in case you broke down, so they wouldn’t see.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry I dragged you into that. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just- I saw his face and I wanted to-” you sighed, struggling to explain the reason behind your split second decision to lie about the nature of your relationship.

“I understand.” 

“You’re not mad?” you looked over at him in surprise.

“No. I can see the power dynamic in that house. Your family clearly has some issues they need to work out. I’m not mad.” he explained.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

“Dang, that bar is set pretty low, Y/N.” he joked.

You slapped his arm playfully with a grin lighting up your face, suddenly feeling much lighter than you had moments ago. 

“How about I pay for pizza tonight as a thank you?” you offered, gazing up at him.

“As long as there’s pineapple on it.” he smirked.

“Half and half.”

Seasons changed, the air turned colder, the leaves on the trees transitioning from vibrant green to deep golden yellows and reds before fading away altogether as the harsh winter breeze bagan to set in. Each new day, you learned more about Yoongi, and the two of you grew closer. Yoongi was respectful of your space and time. He would notice when you were having a bad day and do little things you almost didn’t notice to help you out and reduce your stress. He’d pick up your favorite tea on his way home from work or invite you to watch a movie you knew he wouldn’t have watched on his own. 

You tried to show him the same level of respect, like making sure there was fresh coffee for him in the morning, or packing his lunch when he was running late. The more time you spent with Yoongi, the more you adored him. Possibly a little too much… You’d known from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was gorgeous, but you didn’t think it would be so distracting. 

Oftentimes, you’d find yourself staring at the way Yoongi’s lips moved while he talked, or watching the way his muscles flexed while he wrote. Your breath would hitch when your bodies brushed against each other in the hallway or maneuvering around the kitchen together. You’d try to slip past him and his hands would reflexively find your hips to steady you and guide you past him. Sparks would shoot through your veins any time his skin touched yours, a warm tingle left wherever his touch had been. 

Your eyes would linger a second too long when he’d come out of the bathroom in a towel, or when he’d stretch during your frequent binge watching sessions, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of gorgeous ivory skin. Your mouth would water on the occasions when his hip tattoo would be revealed if his sweats hung a little too low. Sometimes you swore he was doing it on purpose, when you’d look up to find him watching you with an amused expression and you’d tear your eyes away as your cheeks filled with heat.

Yoongi never called you out for gawking at him, he’d simply raise an eyebrow and his delicious lips would turn up in an amused smirk. You weren’t the only one who got caught staring though. You noticed his eyes on you when you would bend over to grab a water from the fridge, or his gaze trailing down your neck towards your breasts when you’d come home sweaty from a run. You pretended not to notice, but you saw the way his eyes would linger.

You danced around each other like that, somehow simultaneously completely at ease and growing closer with each passing day but incredibly bothered with tension and desire. Or perhaps it was all in your head, wishful thinking on your part. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the amount of times Yoongi’s name would fall from your lips in pathetic whimpers while you attempted to keep quiet whilst touching yourself under the covers in your room.

You tried to act like nothing had changed, which is why when Yoongi invited you to watch a movie with him, you’d snuggled up to him on the couch, just like always, a thick blanket wrapping the two of you in warmth. Your head rested on his shoulder and his hand on your knee, the heat from his skin on yours causing other areas of your anatomy to warm up as well. It was hard paying attention to the screen when you could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through your jeans where his hand met your knee but you did your best.

You watched as the main characters began taking their clothes off and tensed up awkwardly, looking up at Yoongi to ask if he wanted anything to drink… at the same time he’d glanced down to ask if you wanted more popcorn. Your faces were mere centimeters away, you could feel his hot breath ghosting against your lips, your gazes locked. Your heart skipped a beat and time seemed to slow, and you could have sworn he’d begun leaning in, but a loud crash in the movie startled you both out of your moment, and you’d pulled away with an awkward cough.

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact, and you’d stood up, using his leg as leverage, but your hand slipped and glided up his thigh, almost making contact with his crotch. You wretched your hand away like you’d been burned and mumbled something about a refill before making a beeline for the kitchen.  Hand over your heart, free hand resting on the counter to hold yourself up while you struggled to regulate your heartbeat, you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. 

Was Yoongi about to kiss you? Surely not, but the way your eyes had connected, the sparks his intense gaze had sent down your spine… you shivered. You refilled your water and grabbed a new drink for Yoongi before making your way back to the living room, sitting a few inches from him and extending out your offering to  him, which he took with a quiet “thanks.”

The air was thick and uncomfortable, the lingering tension from the almost-kiss nearly suffocating the both of you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone started ringing, a FaceTime call from your mom. You sat up and sent a panicked look towards Yoongi, who glanced at the screen before scooting closer to you, and pressing the answer button. 

“Hi mom!” 

“Hello, love. Oh. I see Yoongi is with you. Hello, Yoongi.” she smiled politely. 

“Hello, ma’am.” 

“Y/N, I packed up some more of your stuff, I felt awful for how the other day went and I wanted to apologize.  I talked to your father as well, and… you know how he is.  I want to support you and if Yoongi makes you happy, I want to get to know him. I miss you.” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“Oh mom… thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“I do have to admit though, I was very surprised that you two were together, it just seemed so… unexpected. You usually go for a more clean cut kind of guy…”

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract.” Yoongi supplied with a charming smile after  sensing your body stiffen. 

“That they do!” your mom agreed with a giggle, “it just didn’t seem real at first, I suppose.”

You shot Yoongi a panicked glance out of the frame of the camera, silently begging him to turn up the PDA. His lip was tucked between his teeth in nervousness, but he let it slide free and steeled himself before leaning in and brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Which would’ve been a great plan, had that not been the exact moment you’d decided to turn your head to look at him. 

His lips met yours for the briefest moment, the most tender ghost of a touch, but it lit your insides aflame. Your heart pounded erratically, your chest tightening, and the air seeming to have been stolen from your lungs. Your arm holding your phone grew slack, and you dropped it onto the couch cushion, your hand instinctively placing itself upon Yoongi’s firm chest. The kiss lasted mere seconds, but with the way time stilled around you, it might as well have been hours. His soft lips pressed so delicately to yours suspended gravity itself, and you were floating on cloud nine.

“Y/N? Hello?”

The two of you broke apart in shock, springing away from each other like magnets with the same charge, eyes wide and breathing heavy as you stared at one another. Moments passed with your heartbeat pounding in your ear like a drum before you came to your senses and picked your phone up.

“Sorry mom. Can I call you back?” 

“Oh sure, love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

Yoongi had taken your momentary distraction as an excuse to escape to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room with wide eyes and fingertips pressed to your lips in shock. Your lips had barely touched and it felt like your worlds had collided, two missing pieces finally coming together. And it was terrifying, so you decided not to dwell on it, you’d deal with it when the time came.

That didn’t stop you from replaying the moment in your head for the rest of the night, however. Laying in your bed with Yoongi just one wall away, you wondered if he was thinking about the kiss, if he was thinking about you too. Shoving the hopeful thoughts from your mind, you let yourself drift to sleep.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to spend the holiday with your family, but your mother’s persistent guilt trip over the past few weeks had worn your resistance thin. Yoongi’s family was back in Korea so he didn’t have any other plans, usually opting to spend Christmas alone with a bottle of bourbon and leftover takeout. He’d agreed to be your buffer between yourself and your father and accompany you to the hellscape that was your old home.

Snow had already begun to softly drift from the skies, so Yoongi had reminded you about ten times to dress warm so you didn’t catch a cold. Upon the 8th reminder, you’d snarkily shot back “yes daddy.” and rolled your eyes, stomping off to pull on your gloves. Yoongi had frozen in place, jaw slack as his eyes bored into the back of your head. You paid him no mind, wrapping a scarf around your neck and tucking it into your coat before pulling on your hat. 

“Are you coming?” you asked, your eyes warily running along Yoongi’s rigid body as he stood there with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you down there.” he tossed you the keys so you could unlock the car he’d started a few minutes beforehand, making sure it was warmed up.

You trudged down to the car, dragging your purse and the pie you were meant to bring to the occasion, sliding into Yoongi’s passenger seat and placing your hands against the vents for the warm air. A few minutes later, Yoongi joined you, much more relaxed than before. You sent him a hopeful smile and rested your hand on his knee.

“Thanks for coming with me.” 

“Of course. I’ve got your back.” he shrugged, backing out of the space carefully.

You watched the scenery as Yoongi drove, noting how the snow had dusted the trees with a beautiful blanket, making everything brighter, almost as if it sparkled. You loved the snow as a kid and you loved it still, a fond nostalgia settling in your chest until you noticed you were getting closer to your parents house. Your grip returned on Yoongi’s knee and he tensed a bit before placing his free hand on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, then wiggled his eyebrows playfully “plus your mom approves of your boyfriend now.” 

“She loves you more than me now.” you pouted.

“Well, I am pretty irresistible.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you threw back.

“Don’t think I don’t notice you checking me out, babe.” he smirked, emphasizing the last word as you both walked up to the front door, Yoongi’s hand reaching out to knock gently.

“Shut up.” you crossed your arms defiantly.

Yoongi poked at your side, almost making you drop your pie, but he saved it at the last minute by reaching out and grabbing it from you. This caused his face to be just inches from yours and your eyes locked for a moment and you swear time stopped. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips momentarily, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. It might have been your imagination, but Yoongi seemed to get a little closer to your parted, waiting lips before your mom opened the door. The two of you sprung apart like you’d been caught at a crime scene.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” your mom giggled, sending you a playful wink before beckoning you inside.

You avoided eye contact with Yoongi and tried to take steady breaths to calm your racing heart, your mind going a mile a minute. Was he about to kiss you? Surely not. You were play dating, and no one was watching. Did he want to kiss you? Your cheeks were on fire and you were honestly a little riled up, pressing your thighs together discreetly. You handed your mom the pie, which she sliced and set on the table.

“Merry Christmas, mom. Where’s dad?” 

“Oh he’s taking a nap. Yoongi, come over here! I want to get a picture of you two together!” your mom grinned.

“What are you, best friends now? You guys video chat at least once a week.” you whined.

Your mom waved you off and held her camera up while Yoongi stood beside you, giving you plenty of room. 

“Scoot closer. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, not awkward preteens.” your mom huffed.

Yoongi stepped closer and put an arm around your shoulder, leaning in and smiling for the camera. You heard the shutter go off a few times, attempting to pull away.

“Wait. Let’s get one of you kissing his cheek, Y/N!” your mom gushed.

“Moooooom.”

“Do it.” she chided.

You sighed and glanced up at Yoongi in silent apology, but he only lent over and offered you his cheek. You gently pressed your lips to it, feeling the skin tingle where it met his. The tips of Yoongi’s ears were suspiciously pink, but you paid it no mind. He was probably uncomfortable. Your mom snapped a few pictures and smiled to herself.

“You two act like you’ve never touched each other.” she commented offhandedly while turning around to place her phone on the charger.

“Yoongi’s not a fan of PDA.” you covered smoothly.

“When I was your age my man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” she shrugged.

“MOM!”

“What? It’s true. Young men always have a one track mind.” 

You covered your face with your hands, and your mom laughed. Yoongi wrapped his arms around you from behind, shielding you with his body.

“Don’t be shy babe. I just wanted to be respectful around your mom but she doesn’t seem to care.” he spoke, allowing his lips to graze along the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run through your body. 

Yoongi smirked and kissed your cheek before letting you go, standing up straighter. You glanced where he was staring and your dad was making his way down the hall to join everyone. 

“Merry Christmas, dad.” you said politely.

“Merry Christmas.” he responded, his tone a little stiff and uncomfortable.

He wasn’t showing clear distaste for you or Yoongi, so you took it as a win. Your mom must have had a talk with him. You silently thanked her and took your seat beside Yoongi at the table. Dinner was pretty uneventful, light small talk that your father barely participated in and Yoongi relentlessly complimenting your mom on her cooking skills, telling her how delicious the food was and how he needed the recipes. 

After dinner, you all sat around the tree and opened gifts, your father having gifted your mother a lovely pearl necklace, your  mother giving your father a new watch. You’d gifted your mom a foot massager that looked like slippers you’d seen at the mall, and your father a new set of tools, knowing his were beginning to wear. You’d gifted Yoongi a gift card to his favorite store at the mall, and he’d given you a beautiful bracelet he saw you eyeing a few weeks back. 

The last gift to be opened had been a pair of matching couple’s pajamas for you and Yoongi, a red and white plaid design that was actually kind of cute. Your mom made you hold them up and take a picture together, ignoring your protests that she had taken plenty of pictures beforehand. Packing everything up and getting ready to go, you looked up between your parents and sighed contentedly.

“This was nice, getting along,” you smiled at your mom, standing up and dusting off your skirt, “we’ll be sure to visit soon.”

Your mom leaned in for a hug from both of you while your dad stood silently off to the side, hands at his sides, fingers twitching slightly like he was unsure if he should lean in as well or not. Swallowing your pride because it was Christmas, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. He gently patted your back a few times before stepping back.

“See you around, dad. Merry Christmas.” you spoke softly.

“Merry Christmas.” he repeated, looking away uncomfortably.

You sighed and took Yoongi’s hand in your own, gazing up at him in a silent question. He smiled and pulled you towards the door.  The second he opened the entrance, snow blew into the living room from the force of the wind, and Yoongi quickly shut the door, having to put in more strength than usual with how hard the wind was blowing. 

“Wow, it’s really coming down hard out there.” your mom commented, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

“Does your vehicle have four wheel drive?” your dad asked.

“Um… no.” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh there is no way I’m letting you drive in this!” your mother gasped.

“Mom, we have to go home. I’m sure we can drive slow.” you reasoned, though your nerves about the weather were grating at you.

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here.” she commanded.

“YN… your mom is probably right. It looks pretty bad out there. I don’t think it would be safe…” Yoongi said quietly.

You sighed, resigning to your fate and nodded, setting your purse back on the coat rack and removing your jacket. Yoongi followed suit, shedding his coat and hanging it up, smiling apologetically in your direction. Your father had already retreated back to his bedroom to clean up for the night. 

“Are the spare blankets still in the hall closet?” you asked your mom.

“Yes, why?” she wondered.

“I was going to grab one, Yoongi or I will probably be sleeping on the couch.” 

“That couch is not comfortable enough to sleep on. It’s not like I don’t know you sleep together at home.” she scoffed.

Your cheeks lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and you didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Your mom laughed at your reaction, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall.

“Goodnight, see you in the morning.” she called over her shoulder.

The two of you stood there silently for a moment before you coughed and gestured for him to follow you to your old bedroom. Most of your stuff had been taken to your apartment by that point, so it was mostly just your old bed and an empty dresser with a lamp on it. You glanced down at the full sized bed, which had enough room for the two of you, but barely enough to ensure that you wouldn’t end up touching.

“Do you care which side?” you wondered, finally looking up to meet Yoongi’s gaze. 

“No, it doesn’t matter to me.” he shrugged.

“Okay. You can go change first.” you offered.

Yoongi nodded and disappeared down the hallway to change into the pajamas your mother had gifted the both of you previously in the night. You decided to go ahead and rush through changing while Yoongi was gone, slipping on the matching pair and crawling into bed. The two of you laid straight on your backs, staring at the ceiling for a while.

“I’m sorry about this.” you mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, really.”

You didn’t remember falling asleep so soon, but you woke up to a pitch black room with something warm and firm pressed up against your back. You snuggled closer to the warmth in the freezing room and were met with a low groan and something a solid pressing against your backside.

“Nnnngh.” Yoongi whined, half-asleep, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush against him.

You froze, trying not to rub against Yoongi’s erection that was pressing into your ass, but that didn’t stop the shiver from traveling through your body. With great effort, you managed to turn yourself around in Yoongi’s arms so you were facing him, watching his serene facial expressions in his slumber.

Yoongi really was a beautiful man. You watched him take slow, steady breaths, his face illuminated by the moonlight trickling in between the blinds. You wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, but you didn’t dare in case you woke him. 

His body shuffled closer to yours once more, his arms tightening around you until your noses were nearly touching and you had to hold in a gasp. There was no way this would be happening if Yoongi had been conscious, and you weren’t sure if you should let him sleep or alert him to what he was doing. You couldn’t help being slightly elated at the situation though, being this close to Yoongi and being able to study his features without fear of looking weird, and the way his groin felt pressed against your lower stomach wasn’t something you’d complain about either.

You decided you should probably stop taking advantage of his unconscious state and attempted to climb over him to get out of bed without disturbing him. Just as you’d swung your leg over his body, he turned in his sleep, flipping onto his back, effectively knocking you off balance until you landed atop his chest, your legs straddling his hips. 

You glanced up at his face and your eyes met, faces mirroring expressions of shock. You were both frozen in place for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. You snapped out of it and tried to climb off of Yoongi’s hips, just as Yoongi tried to sit up, so all the two of you accomplished was grinding your core against Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi let out a strangled moan, reaching out to grab your hips to hold you still. 

His fingers gripped the skin of your hips where your shirt had ridden up, and his touch burned in the best way. You fought back a whimper at the delicious feeling, your hips stilling in his iron grasp. The air in the room changed, getting thicker. You swore you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Your racing heart skipped a beat as Yoongi’s eyes traveled down your body until they rested where your core met his length. He shivered. You gulped. Once again, you attempted to flee your current position.

“Please- don’t move,” Yoongi whined, almost desperately, “you’re making it worse.”

“I know I’m irresistible.” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

“You really are.” 

Your brows rose in surprise at the earnest tone he spoke in, his voice bordering desperate. Your mouth slightly agape, you searched his eyes for confirmation he wasn’t joking. He  smirked and sat up, holding you against him as his lips ghosted along your neck, barely brushing against your skin. His hot breath fanning against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your sides almost demandingly, and he let out a low, animalistic growl. 

“You don’t even realize what you do to me… how much you tempt me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger. You’re anything but subtle. I’ve tried so hard to hold back… If we weren’t at your parents house, I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your name…” Yoongi’s voice was low and quiet, and you let out an involuntary whimper at his words, causing his eyes to darken and a smirk to play on his pretty lips, “but maybe you’d like that, maybe you want them to hear, you want them to know what a dirty slut you can be, wanna show them who you belong to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby girl?” he purred, rocking his hips up into yours, letting his rock-hard member drag deliciously against your covered folds.

“Oh fuck… yes.” you whimpered, all sense of dignity flying out the window at his dirty words.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” he groaned, using his hands to guide your hips along his length.

“Me too.” you whimpered, falling forward and placing your hands on the defined planes of his chest, feeling it rise and fall as quickly as yours.

You allowed your hands to wander underneath his sleep shirt, feeling his warm skin against your own, slowly dragging your digits along his torso and teasingly letting your nails scrape gently against his nipples. Yoongi watched with rapt attention as you explored his body, relishing in the way you attempted to memorize every inch your eyes could devour.

His fingers dug into your hips when you flicked your thumb over his nipple, and you smiled innocently before dragging your hands down to the waistband of his pajama pants, gently lifting the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin, causing him to buck his hips up into yours. His hands traveled up your hips to grip the hem of your shirt, pausing and meeting your gaze to make sure you were alright, and you nodded, placing your hands on his and guiding them to remove the fabric, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Yoongi sucked in a breath, a low whine escaping as he released it. 

His hands immediately found purchase on your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolling your hardened nipple. You let your head fall back as electricity shot straight to your core at his actions. You felt him move below you, sitting up in order to take one of your pert nipples into his waiting mouth. His warm tongue worked against the sensitive bud, alternating between licking and sucking while he worked the neglected nipple between his fingers. Your breathing grew shallower, your whines needier, and you felt Yoongi smirking against your skin, releasing your abused flesh with an audible pop.

“You fall apart so easily for me… who could’ve guessed you’d be such a responsive, cock hungry little thing.” he mused while allowing his hands to travel down your stomach, so close to where you needed stimulation.  

“Yoongi please…”

“Fuck, say it again. My name sounds so much better coming from your pretty lips.” 

“Yoongi.” you moaned, nearly breathless. “Please.”

In an instant, Yoongi had you flipped over, resting on your back as he hovered over you, his hungry gaze trailing over your chest and traveling down. He tugged on the waistband of your pajamas, pulling them down past the swell of your ass, then helping you kick them off and aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“Wanna see you, Yoongi.” you pleaded, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

He quickly obliged, whipping it off and tossing it aside, revealing his expanse of glorious ivory skin to you. Your gaze traveled down the expanse of his torso, tracing over the intricate designs that decorated his skin in awe. You’d seen glimpses, when he’d been in just a towel, or stripping off his shirt at the washing machine, but you’d never gotten a good look up close. 

You tentatively lifted your fingers, your index gently tracing the inky black lines as tenderly as you could, barely a ghost of a touch as you admired the beautiful artwork that so perfectly suited such a beautiful man. Yoongi shivered at your touch, watching you study his ink with such wonder in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, reminding him exactly why he’d fallen for you in the first place. 

“When we have more time, I want to hear all about these,” you mused quietly, “what they mean, when you got them, I want to know everything.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “but for now…” he trailed off, slowly moving his body down, kissing a path from your lips down your front until he reached the elastic band of your panties.

He teasingly ran his finger under the elastic, grinning up at your from his spot between your thighs before pulling the garment from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your soaking pussy to him. You tried to close your legs from embarrassment, but Yoongi gently slid his hands up your thighs, gently kneading the flesh there.

“So beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” he cooed, kissing a line from your thigh to your folds, causing you to let out a pleased sigh and spread your legs further for him, “mmm… good girl.”

He rewarded you by licking a long stripe up your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue and making a pleased noise in the back of his throat before diving in, working his warm muscle against your clit in different motions, alternating between sucking it between plump lips, licking broad stripes against it, and drawing figures with the tip of his tongue. 

Using your pleasure as a distraction, he slowly eased a finger inside of your entrance, your slick aiding him with the welcome intrusion. He curled his finger and made come hither motions, repeatedly rubbing the pad of his finger against your weakest spot, and it took everything inside of you not to cry out at the intense fire burning in your core as he worked you closer to your first release. He slowly added a second finger, then a third, scissoring you open and prepping you for his cock. 

Just the thought of the thick member you’d felt pressing against your lower back earlier nestled deep inside you had you drooling, and Yoongi’s skills with his mouth and fingers were certainly not hurting. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you fought the urge to buck your hips up into his mouth as your climax came closer and closer. Yoongi noticed your needy behavior and sped up his actions, working you towards your release. 

You bit down on your fingers to stifle the loud moans that threatened to spill from your lips, even in your lust clouded mind, the last thing you needed was to be interrupted before you could get Yoongi inside of you. As your orgasm crashed over you from Yoongi’s ministrations, your back arched off the bed and you nearly drew blood from how hard you had to bite down to keep quiet, your body shaking as you came down from euphoria. 

Yoongi kissed his way back up your body, finally becoming eye-level with you, smirking at your fucked out state and heavy breathing. You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, drawing his body closer to yours in an attempt to hide. Yoongi’s low chuckles reverberated, shaking the bed slightly. Your hands traveled from being wrapped around his neck, slowly trailing down his back and pulling on the elastic of his pajama bottoms, desperate to lay eyes on his thick cock, which was pressed into your hip.

“Yoongi… need you. Need you so bad.” you begged.

Yoongi’s cock twitched in his pj’s, and he assisted you with ridding him of them and his boxers in one go, allowing his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach in all its glory. You were absolutely salivating as you looked at the reddened tip, leaking precum, the long shaft, and you couldn’t wait to feel him filling you up.

“Ready, princess?” he wondered, lining his member up with your entrance after gathering your slick to coat the head.

“So ready. Please fuck me, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi slowly pushed himself inside your entrance, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. He took his time, periodically checking your expression for discomfort as he impaled you with his length. Your breathing was erratic, you were clutching onto his back for dear life as he split you open, eventually bottoming out. Yoongi stretched you out in all the best ways, filling you up better than any man had ever dreamed of before, and you were living for it. 

You rocked your hips up into his, begging him to move, and Yoongi slowly pulled out until just the tip was sheathed inside your warmth before pushing back in, gaining more speed as he went.  You couldn’t help the pathetic whines and moans that fell from your lips as Yoongi worked his hips, thrusting into you at a punishing pace. Every rock of his hips had the tip of his cock meeting your cervix, the powerful thrusts sending you closer and closer to oblivion. 

“Fuck, babygirl, you look so sexy like this, taking my cock so well… like you were made for me. So fucking perfect.” Yoongi whispered hotly in your ear, licking a bold stripe along the shell, sending shivers coursing through your body.

“Yoongi, fuck.” 

“That’s it baby, who’s making you feel this good?” he accentuated the last word with a harder thrust that sent your body a little farther up the bed.

“You, Yoongi! Oh oh o-oh..” your whines grow louder and Yoongi quickly covered your mouth with his own in an attempt to drown out the noise, lest your parents really do hear him defiling their daughter in her childhood bedroom. 

You clawed desperately at his back, trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, and Yoongi deepened the kiss in understanding, pistoning his hips with as much strength as he could muster and reaching down to roll your clit between his fingers, sending you sailing off the edge, Yoongi’s kiss stifled your scream before he soon followed you off the edge, painting your walls white with his hot release. 

Yoongi pecked your lips tenderly before rolling off of you and landing on his back beside you, both of you panting and grinning like idiots. Yoongi’s cum seeped out of your battered hole, and he licked his lips at the sight, causing you to cover your face and giggle. He stood, walking into the bathroom and dampening a washcloth to clean you up as gently as he could before tossing it into the hamper and resuming his position on his side of the bed.

The sun was just beginning to rise and shine through the blinds as you lay beside Yoongi, still catching your breath. You glanced over at Yoongi to find he was already looking at you. He gave you a shy, tentative smile.

“So…” he trailed off.

“So…?” 

Yoongi sighed and sat up, urging you to follow suit so you could both talk. You followed his instructions, wincing slightly. He gently reached out and took both of your hands in his larger ones, looking up to meet your gaze before he spoke quietly.

“Listen… I know this started off as a lie to piss your dad off, but… I would be lying now if i said it was still fake for me. I really like you, Y/N.. I have for a while. I don’t know when it happened but somewhere along the way, I just- I don’t know. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, a real chance, I think I could make you happy.” he spoke quietly, his eyes filled with light and hope.

“Oh Yoongi…” you sighed, cupping his cheek with your hand tenderly and smiling as he leaned subconsciously into your touch, “you already do. None of this is fake for me either, not anymore. I really, really like you.”

A soft knock on your door tore you two from your moment, your heads snapping towards the door as you pulled the blanket up to cover your breasts.

“Morning, guys, breakfast will be ready in ten.” your mom called through the wood.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to look your mom in the eye now.” Yoongi chuckled.

“She already thought we were fucking before this.” you reasoned with a smirk.

Yoongi groaned and hid his face in the crook of your neck and you laughed, carding your fingers through his messy post-sex hair lovingly. 

“I can’t believe you’re really mine, for real this time.” he whispered into the safety of your neck.

“And I can’t believe you’re mine… for real this time,” you grin, carding your fingers through his hair comfortingly, “let’s eat so we can go home.”

The two of you got dressed and headed out for breakfast, engaging in small talk with your mom and semi-comfortable silence with your dad. You still had a ways to go to fix that relationship, but you were pleased with the progress. You didn’t think you’d ever have a perfect relationship with your father, but you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to fix everything, or be who he wanted in order to receive love, you were slowly learning. 

The roads had been salted and deemed safe to drive on, so you and Yoongi bid your parents a farewell, thanking them for letting you stay and for the gifts. Your mom pulled you into a hug, then Yoongi into one as well.

“I just love how happy you are around him, Y/N. It’s like you’re glowing. You two come visit soon, okay? I miss seeing you.” your mom spoke, holding your hand in hers.

“We will. I love you, mom.”

Yoongi reached out and you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you home.

Months later, on another lazy Sunday afternoon, you were cuddled up with your boyfriend on the couch of your shared apartment, snuggling into his chest while the two of you half paid attention to another movie on Netflix. Wrapped up in blankets and Yoongi’s arms, you’d never felt safer, more content, or so unbelievably happy.

Yoongi had your hand wrapped in his, lazily placing kisses along your wrist, palm, the tips of your fingers, anywhere his lips would reach. He wanted to shower you in kisses. You watched him with curious eyes, noting the way his own were shining as he met your gaze.

“What?” you wondered, chucking quietly.

“Say it again.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, looking up at him with a smile nonetheless, “I’ve said it like fifty times today.”

“Just one more time.” 

You rolled your eyes before quietly letting the words roll off your lips like dripping honey as you pressed a kiss to his skin. “I love you, Min Yoongi.” 

Yoongi hummed happily, almost like a purring cat, “Mmm.. I love you too.”

You snuggled into his embrace before he spoke up once more.

“Okay, just one more time.” 

You laughed and rolled over so you were straddling him, reaching down and squishing his cheeks together before pressing your lips to his.

“I love you.” you giggled, pecking his lips once more, then repeating the words and actions over and over and over again.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you.”  you peppered kisses all over his face, any part of it you could reach until your boyfriend was a mess beneath you, laughing and blushing with the biggest gummy smile on his face.

Every once in a while, you meet someone you instantly connect with. Every so often you cross paths with someone you’re just meant to meet. But, once in a lifetime, you meet someone who makes your soul feel whole again. You see a face in the crowd and instantly feel at home. You hear their laugh one time and suddenly the world has color again. Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who doesn’t save you, but holds you steady while you gather the strength you need to save yourself. 

Min Yoongi is that person for you.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him. 

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas. 

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed. 

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past. 

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again? 

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible. 

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would. 

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return. 

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now. 

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him. 

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness. 

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face. 

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.” 

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.” 

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.” 

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?” 

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen. 

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.” 

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.” 

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely. 

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it. 

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.” 

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue. 

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head. 

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school. 

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered. 

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.” 

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair. 

“I’m here if you need me.” 

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago. 

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.” 

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence. 

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.” 

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.” 

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.” 

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?” 

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.” 

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.” 

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.” 

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.” 

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” 

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.” 

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.” 

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.” 

Alastair didn’t respond. 

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.” 

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them. 

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were. 

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it. 

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly. 

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten. 

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.” 

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again. 

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her. 

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead. 

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read. 

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door. 

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.” 

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.” 

“I came here to check on you, actually.” 

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him. 

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.” 

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” 

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.” 

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.” 

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” 

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.” 

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises. 

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.” 

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming. 

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?” 

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?” 

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.” 

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.” 

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.” 

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious. 

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.” 

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?” 

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time. 

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?” 

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-” 

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears. 

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.” 

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice. 

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.” 

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll. 

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?” 

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true. 

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.” 

“I will.” 

“See you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye. 

“Thank you for chatting with me.” 

“Thank you for… checking in.” 

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

[bbangsoonie]

one more minute

member: sangyeon genre: angst word count: 2,487 synopsis: survival of the fittest is the reigning rule of nature. so when a zombie apocalypse breaks out, you don’t have much hope but sangyeon is set on keeping you safe. warning(s): death

When the apocalypse first broke out, you lost all hope and will. With your physical condition, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long. And quite frankly, you didn’t want to.

Your chances of survival were low. Your asthma and lack of athleticism didn’t give you a good hand. And on top of that, you weren’t sure if you wanted to survive if it meant being unable to live.

What were you fighting so hard for? To merely stay alive in the midst of chaos?

But Sangyeon refused to let you give up. He claimed responsibility for your life and pushed you to fight. You two banded together with a group of other survivors. And for a while, you created a system that worked. The thirteen of you managed well by relying on each other.

Until you lost Hyunjoon.

Then the group was shaken to the core. Fear kept you all locked up in an abandoned warehouse. And inevitably, food and supplies began to run low. Including necessary medical supplies.

You always felt bad about having to risk everyone’s lives to raid hospitals. You knew that your existence was more of a burden than of help. You couldn’t contribute much but required a lot of things. Honestly, you were tired of it as well. But you were too ashamed to tell that to Sangyeon, who had given his very best into keeping you alive.

After another asthma attack, you were laying on a makeshift bed with your hand tightly wrapped around the last inhaler. And as always, Sangyeon remained by your side.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Kevin had returned empty handed. Their search for food had been futile and only ended up with Kevin sustaining an injury. You watched as Jacob tended to his wounds and Changmin rationed the remaining cans of food.

“This world has gone to hell,” your breath rasped in your throat.

“Hey, it’s not completely unbearable. We still have each other,” Sangyeon forced a smile.

You and Sangyeon had grown up as childhood friends. Of course, you were no longer just friends anymore. Yet, you also weren’t anything more. You couldn’t afford the luxury of dating in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You were too busy meeting basic needs to pursue a romantic relationship.

The love between you two remained unspoken but you both knew each other’s feelings. It was why you continued to live in such a shitty world. Sangyeon was quite literally the reason you were alive. Without him, you would have died long ago.

But you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. At least, not without obtaining more inhalers.

“How are you holding up, Y/n?” Haknyeon asked.

You weakly offered a thumbs up in response. He understood the true meaning behind your answer.

Chanhee was discussing logistics with Younghoon, who was quietly nodding his head as he listened. Seeing Sunwoo and Eric having a serious conversation brought you a sense of pity. Hyunjoon’s death had stripped them of the last sliver of joy that they had left.

Sangyeon, who had been observing your features, brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. At his touch, your attention returned to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you more medicine,” he reassured.

“I want to go alone this time,” you hesitantly stated.

His expression immediately hardened as he quickly rejected your idea. Not wanting to hear more, he stood up to leave but you caught a hold of his wrist.

“I can’t keep placing you guys in danger for me. It’s time I pull my own weight,” you insisted.

“Then I’ll go with you,” he said.

You knew he wouldn’t back down. So with a sigh, you meekly nodded.

When Sangyeon brought up the proposal to the group, Jacob instantly shook his head. He asserted that it was way too risky. The group had always traveled outside in trios, minimum.

But you held your ground, even after Jaehyun offered to go as well. Unable to win over your stubbornness, the group reluctantly agreed to let you and Sangyeon go by yourselves.

When the morning came, you awoke to Chanhee packing you a backpack full of emergency tools. He had tried to stay aloof during his time with the group but you could tell that he had grown fond of everyone. He didn’t show it but Hyunjoon’s death had impacted him a lot.

“You have to return. No matter what. You must come back unharmed,” he demanded as he handed you the bag.

You surprised him with a hug. It took him a second to register what was going on before he slowly patted your back.

“Thanks for everything, Chanhee,” you smiled.

“Don’t say that. It sounds like a good-bye,” he frowned. “You can thank me later.”

Chuckling, you nodded as you slung the bag around your shoulders. You said your farewells to the rest of the members, promising to come back by the evening. Eric, as always, teared up watching people walk past the doors of safety.

You and Sangyeon stepped into the pending hands of doom, unaware that it would be the last time walking down these flight of stairs for one of you.

Sangyeon’s hand tightly held yours as you two navigated your way to the hospital. Luckily, the trip there was rather uneventful. The streets of Seoul were eerily quiet. You could barely remember what the booming city used to look like.

Once you got to the hospital, you snuck past roaming zombies in the hallways to quietly reach the supply room. Carefully closing and locking the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief.

You began to grab bottles of whatever medicine there was and stuffed them into your backpack while Sangyeon searched for inhalers. Unfortunately, there were only a couple left in stock. A wave of disappointment and stress washed over him.

Peeking at his troubled expression, you tried to show him the bright side. You now had a bunch of disinfectants and pain killers.

At that moment, a crash was heard outside. You clung onto Sangyeon’s shirt and your eyes widened in shock. He held a finger up to his lips, signaling for you to stay silent as he tried to hear what was going on beyond the door.

“Bomin!” a female voice shrieked before another crash was heard.

Then you heard it. The crowd of growling zombies rushing towards whoever was outside. Your heart pounded fiercely against your chest as they struggled to fight off the monsters. And then broke when human voices were no longer heard.

When you and Sangyeon didn’t arrive by nightfall, Sunwoo couldn’t help but assume the worst.

“You don’t think something went wrong, do you?” he nervously bit his lip in concern.

“No. There must have been a slight delay. They’ll be back tomorrow,” Younghoon gulped. His words were more to convince himself rather than Sunwoo.

“Let’s trust them and wait,” Juyeon said, comforting Eric.

Meanwhile, you were stuck inside the supply room. Leaving was no longer a feasible option with the hoard of zombies outside the door. So you spent the night there, sleeping next to Sangyeon to stay warm.

When you woke up, you knew that you couldn’t hide forever. If you didn’t die outside, you would die of starvation inside.

After coming up with a strategy, you and Sangyeon prepared to escape. You waited until most of the groaning sounds faded further away to slowly open the door and check your surroundings. To your relief, there were only a few of the creatures nearby.

Sangyeon’s heart sank at the sight of blood on the floor. It hadn’t been there the day before.

Quietly, the two of you crept towards the emergency staircase. As you went down a few floors, you relaxed, thinking that you were now safe.

It turned out that it was too early to let your guard down.

Right before you got to the basement parking lot, you heard a familiar noise that sent chills down your spine. You didn’t have time to warn Sangyeon before a zombie jumped on him. He fought with all his strength but the surprise attack had caught him off guard. He was struggling to stop it from tearing him apart.

Without thinking, you flung forward to shove it off of him. The action prompted the zombie to focus on you instead. You yelped as you were thrown to the ground and panicked as you tried to avoid its aggressive mouth.

In unlucky timing, you felt a sharp pain in your lungs.

“Oh no,” you thought. You couldn’t be having another asthma attack. Not now. Not when you were already on the brink of death.

That brief moment of weakness was enough for the zombie to gain an advantage. You screamed in pain when you felt another sharp pain. This time, it was on your arm.

Sangyeon barely managed to kill the zombie by bashing its head into the wall. Your hands shook as you desperately rummaged through your bag to find an inhaler. By the time you sprayed the drug, Sangyeon rushed to your side.

In a hurry, you tugged your sleeves to cover the bite mark. He helped you sit up as he made sure you were okay.

“Y/n, are you crazy? What were you thinking?” he yelled.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters,” you weakly smiled. You tried your best to act fine but your mind was occupied with the pain from your arm.

You leaned on him as you entered the empty parking lot. Finding refuge in an unlocked car, Sangyeon urged you to rest for a few hours before making your way back home.

Home. What a funny word.

In the span of a year, a rundown warehouse had turned into your home. And before you knew it, a group of strangers had become your new family.

Your head was already starting to blur. Flashes of memories flooded your thoughts.

Sangyeon, your best friend. Your could’ve-been, should’ve-been, would’ve-been lover. You still vividly remembered the day he pounded on your door after the mayhem first broke out. Since then, he had been your survival partner. Even throughout all the turmoil, he always brought you a small gift from every outing. In the spring, it was a flower. In the fall, it was a cookie he managed to find.

Jacob, the angel. He was a breath of fresh air in a society where people’s hearts had turned stone cold. He had been the one to gather the survivors together.

Younghoon, the quiet one who took care of people behind the scenes. Like Chanhee, he seemed distant at first. But he was just shy and clumsy at expressing himself.

Jaehyun, the fighter. He was the first to volunteer for any task. He always burdened himself with the responsibility of keeping everyone out of harm’s way.

Juyeon, the one everyone relied on emotionally. He could sense when you were down and brought it upon himself to cheer you up.

Kevin, the selfless one. He prioritized others’ needs before his own. He had trained extra hard to become one of the strongest members.

Chanhee, the secretly soft-hearted one. Your last memory of him handing you the backpack brought a small smile to your lips.

Changmin, the level-headed one who turned into an innocent child when hanging out with the younger members.

Haknyeon, the goofy one who had matured way too early. Despite his young age, he was skilled and dependable.

Sunwoo, the one whose heart was too pure for this world. You hated to see the light in his eyes slowly fade throughout the months.

Eric, the moodmaker who received so much love from everyone. He truly cared for each and every member and never lost touch with his humanity.

And lastly, Hyunjoon. The one who had departed from the world too soon. He had so many unfulfilled dreams and you missed his bright smile.

By the time you regained consciousness, Sangyeon had fallen asleep next to you. You shakily took a breath as you examined the wound on your arm. You knew you didn’t have much time left.

You glanced over at his sleeping face. He seemed at peace. Wanting this to be your last memory, you spent some time watching his chest slowly rise and fall in rhythm. You endured the growing pain as you prayed for just one more minute with him. Just one more second.

Eventually, it became too hard to hold back the groans that fought to escape your throat. You dug into your bag to find the gun meant to be used as a last option. Your grip on the weapon tightened as you trudged away from the car.

Before you got too far, however, Sangyeon stirred from the sounds. Alarmed by your sudden disappearance, he quickly exited the vehicle to see you with a firearm.

“Y/n,” his voice held so much fear. You didn’t have the confidence to face him.

“It’s too late,” you choked.

It was only then that he finally noticed the blood dripping from your arm. He felt his world crumble down as you started to convulse.

“It’s okay,” he said as he approached you. “I’ll still take care of you. I’ll make sure that no one hurts you and that you won’t hurt anyone either.”

“I don’t want to become one of them. You know I’d rather die than become something that’s stuck between life and death. Something that threatens your life,” you cried.

“But I can’t let you die!” he yelled.

“It’s time to let me go, Sangyeon,” you begged as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/n, look at me. Please,” he pleaded.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. But you didn’t have a choice when he tugged at your sleeve to make you turn around. Your skin was already beginning to discolor and he knew what was coming.

Full of desperation, he pulled you in for a hug. One arm clung onto your torso as the other embraced your head. He sobbed into your neck, making you weep as well.

“I lived a lot longer than I should have,” you assured.

“24 years is not long at all,” his voice cracked.

Wanting to spare him from having to shoot you himself, you slowly detached yourself from him. You had to do it yourself soon.

“Take the bag and go back to the others,” you sadly smiled.

“I can’t leave without you,” he cried. But he knew he had to.

You told him to close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see your end. With your vision clouding more and more, you stumbled away from him and hid behind a van. You fell to the ground and your hands trembled as they brought the gun to your head.

“I love you, Lee Sangyeon,” you whispered before pulling the trigger.

a/n: heavily inspired by the character park yoori from sweet home and golden child’s “burn it” music video

[holylulusworld]

Past always Ketch’s up...

Summary: What happens when a certain British guy tries to get your attention? Will you give in or recall what you had with Dean?

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Arthur Ketch x Reader?

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, cocky Ketch, jealousy, arguments, making out, use of handcuffs, sneaky reader, mentions of characters death/murder

Sequel to: Ketch me if you can...

“You know, if you wanted to get kinky and see me again, you could’ve called, sweetheart,” you smirk, looking up at Ketch.

Months ago, you told the Winchesters to not trust the Men of Letters made in Britain - sadly your guts were right again.

If not for Ketch you would be already six feet under, or so that bitch coming after you thinks. She looks at you, an empty expression on her face.

Somehow you’ve got the feeling you saw the blonde woman before, but your brain is busy to suggest one-hundred and two ways to escape the sticky situation you are in.

“I am truly sorry for the inconvenience,” Ketch smirks, rounding the chair you are handcuffed to. Bad luck for him he doesn’t know your father taught you everything about handcuffs and how to get out of them in less than twenty seconds, “but we had to talk to you, my dear.”

“Talk…right,” you glare at the woman, not missing the twitch in her cheek. She looks like she’s fighting a battle she can’t win. “I had the feeling your nice toy over there wanted to do more than talk. Her knife almost piercing my shoulder said more than a thousand words.”

“Mary was just a bit, over-motivated,” you hide that the name rings a bell. Suddenly you remember where you saw the woman’s face before, but this is impossible. Mary Winchester died ages ago.

“Over-motivated,” watching Mary Winchester stand next to Ketch, eyes glassy you know, something must’ve happened to her. There is no way a Winchester would’ve attacked a fellow hunter, let alone kill one. “You should tell your dogs to not bite if you want them to only bark, Ketchie.”

“You have to excuse her behavior. Mary needs to settle in with her new position,” you dip your head, looking at Mary once again before you meet Ketch’s eyes, a grin on your lips. “We need to get rid of the weak and inefficient American hunter.”

“Inefficient, I get it,” your stomach churns but thanks to your training to never show your true emotions unless you trust a person unconditionally, he won’t see the disgust in your eyes. “Why did you not kill me?”

Crossing your legs, lazily leaning back in the chair you play your cards well, crossing your arms to reveal your skills. “You are capable to adapt, Y/N. I see potential in you. I saw the report about your kills. There was no mercy for any monster.”

“Correct,” it’s a lie, you do see a difference between Garth who got bitten and lives a life in peace, and a bloodthirsty werewolf slaughtering innocent people. “Is this an interview, Ketch?”

“You can call it an interview, Y/N,” you nod glancing at Mary. “Don’t worry. There is no need for Lady Bevelles methods. Mary was stubborn but a strong hunter. Sharp and deadly but too emotional.”

“I see,” you’d like to ball your hands into fists and beat the shit out of Ketch and stuff his stupid tie into his mouth, but you need more information. You need to know who is on their list. “Who else will need conditioning and who is – disposable.”

“The Winchesters,” a tiny flash of recognition flickers in Mary’s eyes before it’s gone. “It was a shame we had to put them down.”

“They are dead?” you try to keep the fear out of your voice when you meet Ketch’s gaze. “Who did it? I am jealous, would’ve done it myself. They messed up this world more than they did good.”

“The bunker, their home will kill them. The only way out is unreachable to them. We locked them in. No air. No water. Just death. Buried alive. I think,” he looks at his watch, grinning, “they got around ten hours left.”

“Ten hours, nice,” you slowly get up from the chair, wetting your lips seductively. “Why don’t you fulfill your promise from back then?.” Hand sliding over Ketch’s chest you batt your eyelashes. “Tell me more how you defeated Dean Winchester and we can have the night you wanted…”

“I will tell you all you need to know…”

“Kinky,” Ketch purrs, dropping his button-up to the ground. His eyes focused on the handcuffs in your hands, he smirks. “For you or me?”

“Oh, Baby,” you husk, pushing Ketch onto the bed to straddle his lap, slowly grinding against the prominent bulge in his pants. “I want to ride you hard, to welcome you to this country.”

“Do it, darling,” he watches you slide your hand over his chest, leaning close to his lips when you restrain one hand to the headboard. “Only one?”

“Sweetheart,” the word is thrown at him, piercing his ears as he can suddenly hear the venom in your voice. Ketch looks up at you, failing to stop you from restraining the other hand too. “A friend once told me: Do your job right or don’t do it at all. He was a good man, a bit crazy and torn between helping or killing me but he was right.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he’s panting now, harshly tugging at the handcuffs. “I still can keep you safe.”

“You don’t get it,” moving off his lap you grab your pants and shirt, to hastily redress. “I’m not looking for protection or a partner. If Dean Winchester dies, he does it through my hand or a monster. Not a snob in a suit.” You smirk, picking up the tie Ketch removed minutes ago. “I’ll keep the tie as a souvenir, Romeo.”

“Wait, don’t do this,” he calls after you, fighting the handcuffs.

“We see us soon, Arthur. I don’t think you will survive our next encounter, tho. Thanks for all the instructions to rescue Sam and Dean.” Blowing Ketch, a kiss you snicker at his angry expression. “Sorry, I don’t ride an English dick…”

“Let’s see,” glancing at the grenade launcher in his brother’s hands Sam grins, nodding at Dean. “Blaze of glory or freedom.”

“Blaze of…” The door to the bunker suddenly opens, feeding the building with fresh air. “What the fuck?”

“Boys, if you want to go to the sauna, just ask me. I can tell you how to do it,” you walk down the staircase, smirking at Dean who has a grenade launcher in his hands. “Damn, Dean. Big guns today. I like it.”

Dean always admired your taste in weapons., especially when he could impress you with a new one. “You just ruined her debut,” he sighs, looking at the launcher.

“Maybe we can use it to blow the headquarter of those idiots. I mean, your mom tried to kill me thanks to them. Not funny, I can tell,” Dean watches you slide your fingers over the grenade launcher, grinning proudly.

“We should fight back,” Sam pants, still fighting to get more fresh air into his lungs. “Maybe have a shower first.”

“You know, there is no time for luxuries. I pissed Ketchie off, left him half-naked at the hotel suite,” you snicker when Dean’s face falls, contorting into a mask of anger.

“Did you let that asshole touch you?” Lips pursed you pat Dean’s chest, not impressed by his alpha behavior.

“What if I did, Deano? What if I rode his British dick until I got all the nice information to save your ungrateful ass?” Dean huffs, handing the gun to Sam before he pokes his finger into your chest.

“I…I won’t allow it!” You laugh at his words, pushing against Dean’s chest. You know it’s childish but who cares.

“Fuck that and your attitude! You left me, Winchester. One day you tell me you love me and the next you chicken out, leaving me behind to give me a chance,” you roll your eyes. “Fucking coward.”

“I didn’t know Sam was alive, Y/N. I tried to do what’s best and reunited with my brother. When I recognized he wasn’t the same, I knew I will need all my strength to find out what happened to him and how I can fix Sam. You got…in the way…” Chortling you punch Dean’s nose, followed by backhanding his cheeks. Left first, right follows close behind.

“You will not get away that easily, Winchester! It was you pushing me away and starting an unnecessary fight to get rid of me! I opened up to you only to get hurt,” Dean nods, finally seeing your side of the story.

“Listen, we’ve got no time for discussions or drama, but I want you to know, I am sorry. What I told you back then, that I love you was not a lie. I know you will not believe me and if this is over and we are still alive, you can backhand me for the rest of your life,” you grin, fisting Dean’s shirt roughly to press a soft kiss to his plump lips.

“You know I will remember those words and follow them through, Winchester.” Dean nods, returning your grin. “Ketch will soon catch up with me. I handcuffed him like five hours ago.”

“Handcuffs…huh? Still kinky,” you would like to slap Dean’s face again but he’s right. There is no time to lose.

“I handcuffed him to get information, not to have fun. He might have seen a piece of my ass, but that’s all. Now get your guns, knives, and enthusiasm. We are going on a hunt,” Sam smirks when you get the British flag out. “I’m for hunting an empire down…”

Tags in reblog.

Story Tag

@winchester-wifey​

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 22

Warnings: same as the last chapter with some fluff

Rating: SFW

Previously in The Lost Princess:

“The king told us to go out and find the key bearer, and we found you. So as long as we stick together, it’ll all work out okay. Ya just gotta believe in yourself, that’s all.”

“Yeah but what about (Y/N)? What’s will happen to her?”

“It’s just like Goofy said. You just gotta believe.”

“Just believe…” Sora closed his eyes and heard two voices.

“I believe in you,” you and Kairi said at the same time. Sora found himself flying toward a great shining light, which enveloped everything. Slowly, a room began to fade in around him, filled with bookshelves and stained glass windows. He floated in the air, watching.

“Where am I?” he asked. He saw an old woman sitting on a chair under a long staircase. A young girl with red hair ran up to the woman, who smiled down at her.

“Long ago, people lived in peace, bathed in the warmth of light. Everyone loved the light. Then people began to fight over it. They wanted to keep it for themselves. And darkness was born in their hearts. The darkness spread, swallowing the light and many people’s hearts. It covered everything, and the world disappeared. But small fragments of light survived…in the hearts of children. With these fragments of light, children rebuilt the lost world. It’s the world we live in now. But the true light sleeps, deep within the darkness. That’s why the worlds are still scattered, divided from each other. But someday, a door to the innermost darkness will open. And the true light will return. So, listen, child. Even in the deepest darkness, there will always be a light to guide you. Believe in the light, and the darkness will never defeat you. Your heart will shine with its power and push the darkness away. Do you understand, Kairi?” the old lady said. Sora blinked and the woman disappeared.

“Kairi!?” he asked. He scanned the room, seeing no one for a second. Blinking again, he was back floating in the air, seeing the 4 year-old Kairi, who looked around. He bent forward, trying to reach her, but she disappeared and he was thrown to baby you. He saw you with your father in castle being surrounded by his friends. He blinked again was thrown to 4 year old you. He saw you walking out of the castle in Scala ad Caelum, holding someone’s hand. He couldn’t see who it was but he could tell that you were happy. He blinked again and was back floating in the air and saw you meeting him and Riku. He suddenly heard someone whisper in his ear

Please…save my sister…

“No vessel, no help from the Heartless… So tell me, how’d you get here?” Riku said. The beast stood on its hind legs as a human, and it gazed upon Riku with the same resolution as human eyes would, but the rest of its body, from its horns to its fangs to its claws, screamed otherwise. It began to speak, its voice low and rough.

“ I simply believed. Nothing more to it. When our world fell into darkness, Belle was taken from me. I vowed I would find her again no matter what the cost. I believed I would find her. So, here I am. She must be here. I will have her back!” he said.

“Take her, if you can!” Riku challenged. The beast roared and leaped up at Riku. It swiped at him with its sharp claws, but Riku flipped backward, dodging the attack completely. The beast’s cloak settled to his side as Riku landed on his feet. With lightning speed, Riku charged forward at the beast. Sora arrived in time to see the beast fall to the ground with a stinging growl.

“Goofy. Let’s go. We have to remember our mission,” Donald said.

“Oh! Well, I know the king told us to follow the key and all… But…” Goofy said. He gazed back toward Sora giving a sad grumble. Donald stopped.

“Sora, sorry,” he said.

“No you’re not. If you were sorry then you would’ve helped me search for (Y/N) and clues about her. But all you cared about was your stupid king!” Sora said. Donald ignored him and they continued after Riku.

“O purest of hearts and spirit of light! Reveal to me the Keyhole!” she said. She raised her arms fervently. You screamed in agony as you felt you power being forced to do this spell. The hearts of the six maidens lining the walls glowed in unison and beams of pink light shined out from them. The six met at a point in the air over you and Kairi’s body, pointing a trail of sparkles to a great heart in the room beyond. Maleficent watched, and smiled.

“Know this,” someone said. He stopped at the sound of the voice, caught his breath and turned around.

“The heart that is strong and true shall win the Keyblade,” the person said. Riku saw a cloaked figure emerging from the darkness covered in an unearthly glow.

“What? You’re saying my heart’s weaker than his?” Riku asked. Riku glared at the figure in defiance.

“For that instant, it was,” the figure said. Riku’s eyes widen and he shook his head, staring at the floor.

“However, you can become stronger,” the figure said. The figure walked closer to Riku, the X on its chest nearly visible.

“You showed no fear in stepping through the door to darkness. It held no terror for you. Plunge deeper into the darkness, and your heart will grow even stronger,” it said.

“But first, you must give the princess back her heart,” Riku said. He pointed his Keyblade at Sora, who clutched his chest and fell to the floor, catching himself.

“Sora!” you and Donald said.

“What’s—” Sora asked.

“Don’t you see yet?” Riku asked. He descended the stairs in their direction.

“The princess’s heart is responding. It has been there all along. Kairi’s heart rests within you!” he said.

“Kairi… Kairi’s inside me?” Sora asked. He looked down at her body.

“I know all that there is to know,” Riku said.

“Tell me. Who are you?” Sora asked. Riku smirked.

“It is I, Ansem, the seeker of darkness!” he said.

Ansem walked toward Sora, prompting Donald to yell out and rush at him, but simply knocked the duck past the barrier and moved on. He stood over Sora, looking down with euphoria, and pointed his Keyblade toward him.

“So, I shall release you now, Princess. Complete the Keyhole with your power. Open the door, lead me into everlasting darkness!” he said. With a mad look in his eye, Ansem lifted the Keyblade, about to strike.

“Sora!” You and Kairi said. Sora raised his Keyblade and blocked the strike. Ansem gritted his teeth, putting more pressure on the blade.

“Forget it! There’s no way you’re taking Kairi’s heart!” Sora said as he stood up. He knocked back Ansem’s blade, who extended an arm.

“Come!” Ansem said. Sora striked, hitting him square in the side. He winced, but recovered, blocking a further attack. He tried to toy with Sora, forcing him to strike first and dodging at the last minute. Sora blocked his next strike and sent a Thunder spell at Ansem, who responded with a dark fireball that hit Sora straight in the chest.

“Now witness true power!” Ansem said. An aura surrounded him and he floated into the air, his left hand glowing. He plunged his Keyblade into the ground, unleashing lightning shockwaves from the floor. Ansem’s eyes were wide with madness and he laughed as he fought Sora. He swiped the Keyblade down, sending a blade of energy surging toward Sora, who deployed an Aero spell. 

“Behold the power of darkness!” Ansem said. Ansem started running impossibly fast, pelting Sora with blow after blow from his Keyblade as he rushed around the room. Sora endured the blows, waiting for the chance to strike. He healed as soon as he can and once Ansem stopped running, tossed the Keyblade at him, hitting him square in the face. Riku’s body disappeared, leaving behind the dark Keyblade. 

“Riku!” you and Sora said. The barrier was gone and you, Donald, and Goofy stood in front of the entrance to the Dark Depth. 

“Sora! Sora, look!” Donald said.

“The… The Keyhole!” Goofy said. 

“It’s real,” you said. Sora walked over to it and aims his Keyblade, which didn’t respond.

“It won’t work! The Keyhole’s not finished yet!” Goofy said. Sora put his Keyblade away.

“What can we do?” you asked. 

“Maybe we’ve gotta go wake Kairi up,” Goofy said. 

“I think you’re right,” Sora said. The four of you turned in her direction and Sora placed his hand on his chest

“If we can free her heart… But… But how?” Sora asked.  His eyes settled on the dark Keyblade.

“Sora?” you asked. Sora walked over to the Keyblade and picked it up.

“Sora, hold on!” Goofy said.

“No, wait!” Donald said.

“Don’t do this!” you said. But it was too late. He smiled at you and held the blade in both hands, stabbing himself in the chest. His chest glowed brightly and the Keyblade floated out of him. He closed his eyes and started to fall backwards. The dark Keyblade split into seven hearts, that float back into the princesses including you. Another heart surged from Sora’s chest and floated back to Kairi, who opened her eyes. The entrance to the Dark Depths shimmered, the barrier broken, and Sora glowed brightly, slowly falling. You and Donald ran toward him.

“Sora… Sora!” you said. Kairi jumped up and walked over to you.

“Sora!” she said. She tried to touch him but as she did, he burst into a million points of light, which floated into the air and disappeared, leaving you and Kairi in shock.

“Sora! Come back, Sora!” Donald shouted. Sora floated through an endless abyss.

“What’s… What’s happening to me? Falling…falling…into darkness,” he said. You, Kairi, Donald, and Goofy stood motionless, waiting for any sort of sign.

“Sora, are you really—No. He can’t be! I won’t let him go!” Kairi said. 

“Neither am I,” you said. A corridor of darkness appeared and a tall man with silver hair and orange eyes stepped out.

“So, you have awakened at last, Princess. The Keyhole is now complete. You have served your purpose. But now it’s over,” Ansem said. He walked slowly towards Kairi, and you, Donald, and Goofy brandished your weapons.

“Don’t make another move!” Donald said. 

“Do you think we can stop him all by ourselves?” Goofy asked. 

“I don’t know! (Y/N), are you sure you’re ready for this?” 

“Yeah. I feel much stronger now!” you said. As Ansem approached, he stopped, struggling to move his own body.

“Impossible…” he said. He grunted, a prisoner in his own body. An image of Riku appeared before him, facing the other three.

“No. You won’t use me for this!” he said. Riku held out his arms, blocking Ansem from proceeding further but also shielding you four from him.

“Riku!” you and Kairi said. 

“You’ve got to run! The Heartless are coming!” he said. A horde of Shadow Heartless appeared and surrounded them. Kairi touched her necklace and nodded. Donald screamed as the four of you escaped from the Grand Hall.

“What about the Keyhole?” Goofy asked. 

“Let’s just get out of here!” you said. A lone Shadow watched them leave, its antennae wriggling in front of its glowing eyes. It jumped down from the upper platform in their direction. In the Entrance Hall, Donald and Goofy waited at the castle gates while you and Kairi stopped at the head of the stairs.

“(Y/N), Kairi, hurry!” Goofy said. 

“We can’t leave them behind!” Kairi said. 

“She’s right!” you said. 

“We can’t stay here!” Donald said. You and Kairi ran down the stairs as the Shadow appeared in the hall.

“A Heartless is after us!” Goofy said. 

“I’ll take care of him!” Donald said. The Heartless descended towards them and Donald hit it on the head with his magic wand.

“Confounded Heartless! Get lost, will ya?” he said. It appeared unfazed and looked over at you and Kairi. There was something about this Heartless, something different, and you and Kairi could feel it. However strange, however impossible, the two of you knew it to be true.

“Sora? Is that you?” you asked. The four of you were suddenly surrounded by Shadows.

“Uh-oh!” Goofy said. You, Goofy and Donald rushed to fight them as Kairi stood back, bravely shielding the little Heartless.

“This time, I’ll protect you,” she said. The Heartless surrounding her slowly moved closer to their prey. They paused, their antennae and glowing eyes taking in every sense. They pounced and you and Kairi whirled around, putting your arms around the lone Shadow, your eyes clenched shut.

“Sora!” the two of you said. Goofy and Donald defeated the rest and turned to see the group of Shadows covering you and Kairi. Donald let off a worried squawk.

“Kairi! (Y/N)!” Goofy said. A light erupted from beneath the dark cloud, knocking the Heartless away, revealing you and Kairi in the arms of Sora.

“Kairi, (Y/N), thank you,” he said. He held you two close as sparkles of light floated around you three. You and Kairi opened your eyes in amazement.

“Sora…” Kairi said. 

“Sora!” You, Donald, and Goofy said. The Heartless around you five reappeared and you all braced for a fight. Beast arrived, roaring loudly on top of the dragon fountain. He leaped down to your level and knocked away a Shadow.

“Go! Now!” he said. 

“Come with us!” Sora said. 

“I told you before, I’m not leaving without Belle. Now, go! The Heartless are coming!” 

“All right. Let’s get out of here.” The five of you raced out of the castle and back to Traverse Town. You all gathered with Leon, Aerith, and Yuffie in the Small House in the Third District.

“Tell me what happened,” Leon said. Sora recalled the event in Hollow Bastion. 

“So the darkness is flowing out of that Keyhole…” Leon said. 

“No wonder there are more and more Heartless everywhere. The only way to stop them is—” Aerith said. 

“Seal the Keyhole, right?” you and Sora asked as Sora raised his keyblade. 

“Maybe. But no one knows what will happen once it’s sealed,” Leon said. 

“Well, we can’t just stay here. We have to do something. I’ve got a friend back there,” Sora said.

“That’s right. You have one more friend to worry about. Riku’s Keyblade must have been born of the captive princesses’ hearts—just like that Keyhole you saw.” Leon looked at Kairi.

“Of course, without Kairi’s heart, it remained incomplete. Once that Keyblade was destroyed, the princesses’ hearts should have been freed. Don’t worry, Sora and (Y/N). If anyone can save your friend, you two can,” he said. 

“Not sure why, but the Heartless are getting stronger. New types of Heartless are popping up all over the place! If anything happens to us, I know we can count on you two,” Yuffie said.

“Even in your Heartless form, I knew it was you,” Kairi said.

“Me too!” you said. 

“I thought the Keyhole would strength the darkness. I mean the darkness is strong, but still… It’s almost as if someone is holding the darkness back,” Aerith said. 

“It seems the other princesses have been freed as well. Jasmine apparently hasn’t returned to Agrabah. I suspect the others are still in the castle, too,” Leon said. You and Sora went to go speak to Aerith. 

“Do you remember seeing a man with spiky hair at the coliseum?” Aerith asked. 

“Yup,” you and Sora said. 

“I wonder if he’s still searching for his friend? Sora, (Y/N). If you see him, please tell him to be careful. He’s not that friendly, but we all care about him dearly.” The five of you found Cid in the First District.

“Cid, we need to go back to Hollow Bastion,” you said. 

“I don’t think I can let you do that, kiddos. The Heartless there are multiplying by the minute. They’d eat your ship up,” Cid said. 

“Then what can we do?” Sora asked. 

“Simple. Go around ‘em instead of through. Install a new navigation gummi and take a new route.” 

“A new gummi? From where?” you asked. 

“The secret waterway. When I came here 9 years ago, I stored it there in case I ever needed it. Never thought a kid would be the one to use it!” Cid said. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy entered the Secret Waterway, seeing Kairi there. She stared down the cave to a painting of the sun.

“What a mysterious mural… It’s almost hypnotizing,” she said. You and Sora walked up to the mural, which started to glow. It changed into a crescent moon and a small gummi block floated out of it, landing in Sora’s hands. you and Sora then returned to Kairi.

“Let’s go back and join the others. We should rest up,” you said. 

“Agreed,” Sora said. 

“Okay,” Kairi said. She stared at the mural of the moon as Donald and Goofy left the three of you alone.

“A light at the end of the tunnel…” Kairi said. 

“Oh, your grandma’s story, right?” Sora asked. 

“That’s right. We were together.” 

“You know what’s funny? We looked everywhere for you, but you were with me all along. Finally, we’re together, girls.” He walked closer to her, you following close behind.

“Now, it’s time to get Riku back,” you said. 

“You think it’ll ever be the same again between us? Riku’s lost his…” Kairi said. 

“When I turned into a Heartless, you two saved me, remember?” Sora asked. An image of Sora floated in darkness.

“I was lost in the darkness. I couldn’t find my way. As I stumbled through the dark, I started forgetting things—my friends, who I was. The darkness almost swallowed me. But then I heard two voices—your voices. You two brought me back,” he said. 

“We didn’t want to just forget about you, Sora. We couldn’t,” you said. 

“That’s it! Our hearts are connected.” He put his hands on his chest.

“And the light from our hearts broke through the darkness. I saw that light. I think that’s what saved me. No matter how deep the darkness, a light shines within. I guess it’s more than just a fairy tale,” he said. 

“Well, let’s go,” Kairi said. 

“You can’t go,” you said. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s way too dangerous,” Sora said. Kairi stood with her hands behind her back.

“Come on, you two. We made it this far by sticking together. You two can’t go alone,” she said.

“Kairi, even if we’re apart, we’re not alone anymore. Right?” you said. 

“I can’t help?” she asked. 

“You’d kind of be in my way,” Sora chuckled. You and Kairi giggled.

“Okay. You win,” she smiled. She grabbed you and Sora’s hand and gave you two something.

“Take this,” she said. You and Sora looked down, seeing a star-shaped keychain made of seashells.

“They’re my lucky charms. Be sure to bring them back to me,” she said firmly.

“Don’t worry. We will,” you said.

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” Sora said. 

“Don’t ever forget. Wherever you two go, I’m always with you guys,” she said. Words echoed down a dark and lonely road.

“Sora…Kairi…(Y/N)...I’m sorry…” Riku said. Riku walked alone in the darkness.

“Is this the afterworld?” he asked. He stumbled forward and his form shimmered.

“I’m not ready. Not yet. Not until I see (Y/N), Sora, and Kairi one last time…” he said. He suddenly heard a voice in the abyss.

“Riku, can you hear me? I’ll be there soon,” they said. Riku whirled around

“Who is that?” he asked. 

“I have the other Keyblade—the one that belongs to this world,” the voice said. Riku looked around, confused.

“I’ve been trying to get through to you, but the darkness in your heart kept me away,” the voice said.

“Who are you? What’s happened to me?” Riku asked.

“Your heart won the battle against the darkness, but it was too late for your body. That’s why you’re here—in this place of darkness where hearts are gathered.” 

“So what do I do?” He looked ahead down the winding road.

“The Door of Darkness will open soon, but it’s a door we can’t enter. It has to be closed from both sides. To do this, you need two keys and two hearts. Maybe you’re here for the same reason I am. Maybe it was fate,” they said.

“Fate, huh? You seem to know everything, don’t you? Then tell me: Are (Y/N), Sora, and Kairi okay?” Riku asked. An image of you and Sora ran toward him out of the darkness.

“Don’t you feel the echoes of their hearts? You already know the answer. Look inside your own heart,” the voice said. Riku opened his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. 

To be continued...

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Chapter two: Intruder 

The chapter was again proofread by @haro-whumps and your comments had me wheezing! They were amazing! It was such a delight to finish the edits <3 Thank you so much <3 <3

Tag list: @broken-horn @finder-of-rings  @haro-whumps  @voidwhump2  (if you don’t want to be tagged in this pls let me know)

CW: giant spider, dehumanization of a fictional minority, degrading language, bullying/ discrimination based on one's appearance,  mutilation of a pet spider (very briefly), 

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones, pulsing hotter than the torrid sun, and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit as the horrible lavender scent clung to his hair, skin, and clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, he realized as he hurried after his director. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him and spear swinging in its quiver. He did not slip even once on the tiny steps that wound through the thick underbrush to who-the-hell-knew-where. All while he rambled on about how disciplinary work encouraged the growth of one’s character.

A twig got caught in Gideon’s black bushy hair, pulling painfully on his roots as it broke off with a snap. It was going to be a freaking nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure. The only thing stopping him from yelling at his teacher’s back, was that he really, really could not risk to get kicked out of this academy. He’d come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not become some obedient little soldier boy, but even so he wasn’t going to get booted yet. And certainly not after only five days.

So he kept quiet. If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day, so damn be it!

 “Ah, here we are. Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

“‘S okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he would throw a fit, but the house’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest.

A fine-boned, elderly woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard.

 A boy, probably his own age but way shorter, held the door open for them, seemingly waiting for more people to come out. His big green eyes were cast on the floor.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of the director, whose whole face had lit up.

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave?! Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. The woman crossed her arms, smile growing sharper, but her blue eyes twinkled warmly as she spoke.

“You’re charming as ever, Eric.”

The man behind her huffed, stepping closer. “Also happy ‘ter see ya, Eric.”

“Oh rival, how could you not? Since-“

The director launched into one of his speeches but Gideon’s focus snapped to the girl that stepped out the door, right behind a blonde woman. She wore a tight black romper, translucent blouse hanging of her thin shoulders and her fancy getup alone made her stick out from the other villagers, but what really caught his attention was her face. Iits left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin creased like a wrinkled silk sheet, leaving her left eye smaller than the other. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back just in time to give them a curt nod.

“Hi.”

“I will send him to you after the feast then, to come and get the mucin salve once you finish it.”

Oh great, he really just got downgraded to an errand boy.

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path, the short boy right in front of him, followed the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road, and Gideon nearly collided with the farm boy’s back.

That’s when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core. Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves. He knew that sound. Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them. He would never forget a spider’s hiss. Not ever.

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape fastened to a beetle’s shell that armored his left shoulder, shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. He did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

The air was so brittle it felt like any moment it could snap, and if it didn’t, Gideon might.

That’s when the director shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy grin.

 “Woah, there. Hold your horses pals. Before someone does somethin’ he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” the bearded man grumbled.

Moira ducked past her husband, face twisted in a furious scowl. “Oh, something other than riding in another village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!” The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed, bulging, as she shook a fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim too.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Eric stepped up beside her, spear held high in a white knuckled grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, “A monster?! Only reason I got past your units was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he tapped his knuckles softly against it. 

“Renders her absolutely obedient. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered as he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only twitching its yaws, creating an awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

 “She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculatingly cold composure. His mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer. Venom spiked his words, dripped like acid from his tongue. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon of his father. How dare this interloper compare someone to mutant monstrosities. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move, planting himself right between the girl and the intruder.

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever really seen one? Or are you just talk?!”

“Gideon.”, the director warned, squeezing his shoulder warningly as he tried to pull him back, but the intruder just gave them a wry smile.

“No no. Let's hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes. There hideous monstrosities.  And I’m going to find and kill every single of one of them.”

The intruder burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Some barely look like monsters.  Just small and weak. But ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.” His eyes wandered back to the girl. The blonde woman beside her gasped, searching for words to shot back, but falling silent as she noticed the girls expression. 

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but the short boy was faster, small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and, uhm, and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And pe-people who talk about killing others for no- no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”  

His fingers fiddled with his shorts as he spoke, twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words and his big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingering on the intruder’s face before landing on  Gideon. His eyes narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.  

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms in an attempt to shield himself from Gideon’s anger, the boy forced himself to hold Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare.  “Y- you heard me.”

Gideon could feel a vein pulsing in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug in his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin. “Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage tore through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

In that frozen second between charge and impact, the boy’s feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s fist. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself.

That little runt had nerves! Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” His fist swung back. “Try to handle this!”

Gideon’s muscles flexed. But a strong hand stopped him, holding his wrist in an iron grip before he could smash his fist down.

Craning his neck, he looked up at the old man’s stern face.

Fuck. He is fast?!

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

He released Gideon’s hand and turned to the other boy. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards, sharp as his words. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Wincing, Sahar flinched back. His big eyes glistened with unshed tears, blinking up at the man.

“Wh-wha- what do you mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” His voice did not waver, bringing more to tears to green eyes.

“Someone's a stuck up.” the intruder mumbled, earning the older womans venomous glare. 

“But- but I didn’t- he was the one who-“

“Enough,” the man thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar shrank under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling yaw, painting a glistening path on his pale olive skin.

His voice was reduced to a shaky exhale as he nodded, eyes fixed on the dirty ground. “Yes, sir.”

Sahar stormed up the stairs and vanished behind thick bushes, as the intruder burst into a new laughing fit.

[wykart]

The Prodigal Daughter

Summary: The Doctor has some unfinished business on Gallifrey. She has a purpose, and the Time Lords intend for her to fulfil it. (read on ao3)

a.k.a. local girl has a crush on the 13th Doctor, a love of cosmic/psychological horror, and a fascination with the whole Doctor = The Other thing from the wilderness years novels.

Chapter 1: The Promise 

Pity, and things were just starting to get good. In retrospect, a little too good. 

She’d been thrown out of her TARDIS and crashed right into the next band of wide-eyed, brilliant humans who’d been all too enthusiastic to go along with it all. Humans. They gravitate towards the weird like ions to a gravity belt, buzzing around like flies. Anything to pull them away from the collectively self-enforced misery of the day-to-day. You get the odd few – like Karl – who are more than content to meander through time, always a little lost, always holding the truth back a fraction so as to keep the fear at bay. Not her new best friends. In a way, she had them trapped, even if she hadn’t meant to do it. But, maybe she always means to do it, a little bit, deep down. (All of time and space, what d’you say?) reluctance, because they all have little lives to be getting on with, and little people that rely upon the unceasing perpetuation of those little lives. A web, intricate, all of them trapped in it. (By the way, did I mention, it also travels in time?) splendour, because it’s just a bit too close to magic. They hardly ever say no. 

To be fair, she had wholly intended to die, all noble and peaceful-like. All staring out over the brief armistice on the battlefield and lamenting the guttural woes of immortality. Eyebrows had always quite enjoyed his lamenting. All her lamenting went on behind a smile and a brightened glare – fidgeting hands and bouncing feet. She liked the way she moved now, all limber and sporadic. The youth of it. It felt like old times.

 She’d taken off the veil after Trenzalore, but it got boring after a while; the sadness, the age, the self-imposed exile. He made a promise to the next one along, a few rules to hold close to her hearts. Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind. She plays the part rather well. It’s a different sort of relationship. She didn’t up and snatch some young woman away from her life to see the stars with an intimacy that only comes with that one-on-one, that face to face. It’s different, too, because they all joined her at the same time, none knowing more than the other, all of them from the same time, same place – down to the block. They’re predictable.

 Things were light-hearted. Controlled little escapades, low stakes, relatively speaking – but more than enough for a few humans. This is who she had wanted herself to be, wasn’t it? This was the promise.

She’s in control, creating a narrative, sticking to the corners of the universe where nobody knew her title. She’s got rules now, too. Better rules than before. The Doctor lies, of course, but she doesn’t advertise the fact these days. Non-interference is a buzzkill, always will be, but she can appreciate the sentiment. Walking away; she isn’t used to that feeling. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity, or maybe she’s just growing cold. Like this – with her rules and her power – she can almost pretend that she really is just a traveller, can act the benefactor while she watches their wide eyes take in the sights. She can almost pretend that there’s no past reaching out from the end of the universe, gripping her neck, ready to twist her back towards home. Ready to snap.

 Their influence is spreading beyond their secluded corner at the end of the universe. Maybe in the beginning they were humble about it, promising to patch over their tyranny and lead a civilisation of malevolent indifference at the end of time. Memories of the war still haunting the global subconscious, weapons locked away, gathering dust. Indifference never lasts forever. Curiosity and hunger prevail, scars whiten to a faded groove – even hers. As her species reaches out, tugging at time, twisting it around her like bonds, it is accompanied with an implacable longing for red fields under an orange sky. For a barn in the desert. She wonders if the grass has grown back yet – if it’s struggled up through the arid, fallow soil. She wonders how many survived the war, how many hate her, and how many idolise her? Which faction holds power now, after Rassilon’s usurpation? Do they call her a monster, a renegade, a prodigal daughter, or do they hold her up as some sort of cosmic hero, some sort of god? She isn’t sure which is worse.

 And still, the message hangs in the back of her mind, a psychic backdrop, a drone. (Lord President, your presence is required on homeworld. Comply, or we will be forced to take action. Your weakness is known. It will be exploited. Kind regards). Always polite at least, the aristocracy.

 Of course, she’s not going to do what they tell her. She’s been disobeying the wishes of the high council for over two thousand years. She isn’t about to stop now. Running is what she’s good at, and running was part of the promise. Still, she can feel them rifling through her head, sifting through her time like a pool of sand. Searching for something old, something powerful. Something she hasn’t thought about since before the war, when she was starting to get a little too cocky and the universe thought it best to bring her down a peg, or two, or all of them. Whether her negligence is a question of hasn’t or can’t is another matter altogether. There’s something older in her bones, deeper. Something that’s been running for even longer than she has. She doesn’t want them to find it.

 The TARDIS lands, rougher than usual. She hopes she hasn’t broken any more chairs. The Doctor takes a moment to catch up with herself, pushing that spiralling message down as deep as it will go (it still hums, always singing). She feels displaced, and their grip is only growing tighter, pulling time up over her eyes like a murky veil. It tastes metallic red in her mouth.

 A knock at the door scatters the symbols, impact throbbing in her ears. “Hey Doc!” it’s Graham. She quite likes that nickname, it suits her. Hip and – what was it that Eyebrows had said? – down with the kids. “Gave me a bit of a turn there, I almost dropped m’tea!”

 She tries to shake the grogginess from her head and plasters on a smile, hair balled around her face like fuzz. “Tea!” she exclaims, shrill, hurtling out through the TARDIS doors in front of a startled and exasperated looking Graham. “I’d love me some tea, thanks very much Graham.”

 “Well alright then, I’ll put the kettle on shall I?” he says with a chuckle. He sets his own half-full mug down on the dining table and calls up the narrow staircase. “Oi Ryan! The Doc’s here, get down or you’ll miss out til next Sat’day.” Picture frames line the walkway. Pictures of Graham and Grace as the Doctor knew her, and older ones. A young, rosy woman with braided hair smiling that same, motherly smile. Portraits of a young boy that must be Ryan, stifled in too-high school shirt collars and gazing off-centre into his own thoughts. “He’s havin’ an afternoon nap,” Graham informs the Doctor with a fond, knowing smirk. “Went out with his mates down the pub last night and came back in a right state. I don’t know how he does it.”

 “Oh, to be young,” the Doctor muses, only half in jest. Graham barks a short laugh, because he doesn’t see her, none of them do. She’s just fine with that. Oh, to be young. It makes the running so much easier.

 “Yaz should be round in a bit, she had some family lunch, extended and all. Makes me jealous just thinkin’ about that food. Do they’ave Pakistani food in space?”

 The Doctor is grateful for the invitation for anecdote. “Oh yeah, plenty of em’! Especially in the 31st century when you lot really start branchin’ out. There’s one in the Taureen System just off the Braken Nebula – excellent Karahi. I’ll take you sometime, shall I?” Fast words, wide grin, teeth bared against that incessant noise thrumming against her skull. She tries not to betray her disquiet. She feels sorry for The Master.

 “That sounds great Doc,” a flash of concern. That isn’t good. He must have noticed her expression. “I’ll get that tea on. Make yourself at home.” He bustles out as Ryan traipses down the stairs, one careful foot in front of the other. Climbing down a British suburban staircase with a hangover and dyspraxia is a feat of unimaginable skill, and he almost makes it look easy.

 “Mornin’ Ryan,” she calls, plastering on her grin again.

 He winces. “Hey, Doctor.”

 “Big night?”

 “Yeah.” He sighs, blinking rapidly as if the action might jerk him awake. “Long shift at work too. I’m down for an adventure, just no more space warehouses, yeah?”

 “Well, guess I’ll have to cancel my plans for our space warehouse extravaganza then.” She rolls her eyes in mock-frustration. “Honestly Ryan, you keep me on my toes.”

 The doorbell rings, causing Ryan to wince and hold his head again. “Shall I answer the intruder alert?” she chimes, trying for a joke. It’s an old one, overused maybe, but her head hurts far more than Ryan’s does and the joke-making centre of her brain is seeped in Time Lord threats, viscous as tar.

 “That’ll be Yaz,” Ryan mumbles. “I’ll get it.” He wanders along the landing, the Doctor following absently, not really sure what to do with herself. When Ryan opens the door, Yaz’s face is almost covered by the tower of Tupperware balanced precariously in her arms.

 “Hey Ryan, Doctor,” she beams. “Could you grab a couple of these, otherwise I’m gonna collapse under a pile of Nani’s cooking.” Ryan obediently scoops the top-most lot of containers from Yaz’s tower. The smell is overpowering, and steam fogs up against the plastic, softening it. The Doctor takes the next lot with a hurried grin at Yaz and carries them to the kitchen. Best not to look at her too long, Yaz is good at noticing faces and what’s going on behind them.

 “Oh Yaz, you’re a gem, you are,” Graham exclaims as he waves through the parade of leftovers.

 “Well I wasn’t about to leave you out was I?” she says, shunting the sparse contents of the O’Brien/Sinclair fridge to make room for her contribution. “How about we have second lunch when we get back. Just make it a long one, okay Doctor, because I am full to bursting.”

 “Ooh, lunch with the fam,” The Doctor cries, a little too loudly to be passed off as mere enthusiasm. The truth is she’s having trouble hearing her own thoughts, let alone her voice. It’s like her head is being pushed underwater, deeper, deeper, to where the light doesn’t shine and the creatures are strange.

 There’s a shared sheepish smile from the rest of them. Sometimes all of their faces knit together into one. Predictable. All humans look a little bit the same. She can see their time stretching out in front of them, see where it snaps off abruptly, no confetti. A straight line. A grey line. Their youth hangs about them like something tangible, and there’s so little substance to them that they’re often nothing more than pinpricks in the dark. You have to squint. The other Time Lords don’t see them at all. That simple fact is what scares her the most.

 “You all good Doctor? You’re sorta just… starin’,” Ryan says, brows knotted together in concern. The other two wear the same expression. Identical. Pinpricks in the dark.

 “Hmm?” she inquires, using the sound to give her more time, processing his words. They take a while to filter through. His voice is like tin; thin, rattling. “Me? Very all good, thanks Ryan. Always good, that’s me.” (Am I a good man?) She buries the question. It has a habit of cropping up at inopportune moments.

 “Okay then,” Yaz claps her hands together, dispelling the tension. She’s good at that, but it’s double-edged. Yaz notices everything, and the Doctor knows that later she’ll be taken aside and bombarded with questions from PC Khan. Astute, assertive, hopelessly curious. She prides herself on attracting that sort. “What have you got planned for us today, Doctor?”

 “Well, now that you mention it, I think I have some idea.” As far away from the Time Lords as possible. What sort of leisure activities could one take one’s humans to at the beginning of the universe? “It’s a surprise, though,” she blurts, when she realises that she’s been silent for too long. The sound of it is sharp, and it stabs up through the din pressing down on her (Lord President). Involuntarily, her hand rushes to her head, a wince, her feet slide and stumble beneath her as if she’s standing on ice.

 “You sure you’re alright Doctor? You sure it weren’t you that drank too much last night?” Ryan smiles, half concern, half content. They have no idea what they’re dealing with. She aims to keep it that way.

 “Phew, yeah I am, thanks Ryan,” she wipes her brow with the back of her hand. Mock exhaustion. The sort of exhaustion they understand. The tiredness she’s feeling now doesn’t culminate with a sheen of murky sweat on the brow – it’s deeper. It grips every nerve-end and twists. A knife in the gut, slowly spinning in. “Had a bit of a rough landing. I’ll be right with a cuppa tea in me.” She puts her hands on her hips, steadying herself. “Speakin’ of, wonder how Graham’s getting on.” It’s a forced sort of exit. Obvious. Her head hurts too much for subtlety. She wanders off towards the kitchen, past two humans with mouths open in exclamations of concern and protest held at bay. Pinpricks.

 …

  “Do you think she’s alright?” Ryan asks, when the Doctor is out of earshot. Alien ears though, maybe she can always hear them. He doesn’t linger on the thought.

 “Probably, she did look a bit wobbly. Nothing she can’t handle though, right?” she grins. It’s transparent; for herself as much as for him. “She’s an alien, could have an alien cold or something.”

 “Do you reckon humans can catch alien colds?”

 “Dunno.”

 Small talk is difficult. She had quite enough of it that morning surrounded by her extended family all crammed into their little apartment. It’s always the same questions delivered at varying levels of disdain coated in sweetness. Questions like; have you thought about going to university?, do you have a boyfriend yet?, and then; you’re so beautiful Yasmin, you would have no trouble finding a good man. Her mother had cast the odd look her way, a knowing smile, encouragement in her eyes. Her mother had always been supportive of her, but Yaz wondered whether that was only because she still had a chance of ending up with a man, if the right one came along. She didn’t want to believe that – her mum was great, really – but love could be conditional like that. Needless to say, she was looking forwards to a bit of escapism. She even found herself craving a bit of danger. A chase, a monster, a plot to foil.

 Talking to Ryan is different. She’d been surprised at the relative ease with which they slotted back together. Primary school was a minefield, especially for a kid with dyspraxia and a tendency to wander off into his own head. The teachers didn’t understand, they thought he was just careless, and every bump and bruise was met with an exasperated cry of ‘Ryan!’ She helped him out, because even then she was a bit of a teacher’s pet. Even then she was a bit of an outcast. High school came with a promise to keep in touch, but all of a sudden there was a new place in which to be an outcast. New eyes to feel pressing upon her back, gleeful. All of a sudden, Ryan Sinclair was a far-off thing, who probably had better things to do, better friends to see. Now, once again, he’s the only real friend her age she’s got. Life is circular like that.

 “So, you were down the pub last night?” Yaz asks. Small talk.

 “Yeah, me and a few mates. Nothing big though, had work today.”

 “Your ‘nothing big’ and my ‘nothing big’ are totally different things,” she smiles. “Tell me you didn’t end up in the park again.” That was part of the night shift, clearing out drunks from the local park when the residents complained about the noise. It wasn’t the picture of justice she’d been imagining when she’d gone for the job – just people being stupid. They did that a lot, she was coming to realise.

 “What were you doin’ last night, then?”

 “Sleepin’ like a responsible adult,” she grins.

 “You should come out with us sometime Yaz. The gang wouldn’t mind, it’d be a good time. You don’t have to drink or nothin’ if you don’t want,” he adds, at the sight of her reproach. Although she’s sure Ryan wouldn’t press her, she figures his friends might be a little more forceful. One does not simply walk into a bar in Yorkshire and not have a pint or two.

 “Thanks for the offer Ryan, I might take you up on that,” she probably won’t. She’s just trying to be polite. “Just don’t expect me to go staggerin’ through the park after and listen to your god-awful rap music.”

 “That stuff’s mint, Yaz. You’ll come round to my way of thinkin’ someday.”

 She scoffs, “will not.”

 “How’s the family then?”

 “Oh they’re alright. Didn’t have my phone though, so I couldn’t even escape with that. Sonya did though, for the whole meal.” Another eye roll, a gesture her sister often inspired in her. Even if Sonya does have a boyfriend, Yaz is definitely the family favourite. She quite likes being the favourite. It’s an easy thing to do; she can say the right things, smile the right smiles. It works on teachers, family members, even superior officers to a point. It also works on the Doctor. “I had my phone all charged up, but I got this weird call last night that drained all the battery. Probably some foreign scam or something.” But it wasn’t, she knows it wasn’t. She can still hear the bruised voices in her ears. “But still, it was okay. They’re pushy, but you know how families are.” She presses her lips together, and looks at him apologetically, because she remembers that, of course, Ryan doesn’t know how families are, not really. Not big families, anyway, and not since his mum died.

 He must know what she’s thinking because he says “don’t worry ‘bout it. Besides, I think I’m about to. Graham’s tryna get me to go to a Christmas do with his family. I’ve managed to avoid it for the past few years since he married me Nan, but now he really isn’t lettin’ it go.”

 “That could be nice, couldn’t it?”

 “And have a bunch of stuck-up old white folks I don’t know say how sorry they are about me Nan? Don’t think so.” Silence again. Yaz doesn’t know grief the way Ryan does. She hopes she never has to. Ryan winces, bowing his head against the headache Yaz knows is still plaguing him. “I swear to you, I didn’t even drink that much last night. It hit me proper good though, I totally spaced out in the pub, look,” he points to a spot in the middle of his forehead. It’s hard to see against the darkness of his skin, but definitely there. “I fainted or something and banged my head right into the table. Felt like I got concussed ‘cause I got all spacey for a bit.”

 “And you just went on with the night?” she asks, in exasperated incredulity.

 “What? Nothing’s wrong with me. I did see some proper weird stuff though. Colours on the TV and this weird grating noise – you ever heard anything like that?”

 “You sure no one slipped anything in your drink?” She’s heard horror stories about that sort of thing. Mostly from Sonya and her mates. They’re all underage, but that never stops them. Yaz is convinced her sister continuously breaks the law just to spite her, not even trying to hide it.

 “Dunno. Nan would’ve been able to explain it, I’m sure. Plenty of people coming through A&E on a Friday night.” He pauses, just a moment, a memory, a flood of grief. “It was real weird though, not to sound like a total nutter, but I heard a voice and all this static. Somethin’ about –“

 “A president.” Yaz finishes, gazing at Ryan, mind kicking into gear, whirring.

 “Err… yeah, actually. How’d you know that.”

 “That’s what they said on the call.” The more she thinks about it, the more she can feel the presence of it; the memory. There’s a hole where her mind has plastered over the event. It’s thin and, with trembling fingers, she starts to peel the plaster back. “It was this horrible noise, like static, you know?”

 “Are you sayin’ we had the same hallucination.”

 “Startin’ to think it wasn’t a hallucination, actually.” She pauses for a moment, so does he, both of them trying to pull back the plaster, see what’s behind the wall. No substance, just absence – but the scars left behind paint the picture well enough. An inverted image.

 “Coincidence?” he offers, clearly not believing it himself.

 “I don’t really believe in those.” After everything she’s seen, she doesn’t think she’ll ever believe in coincidences again.

 “You reckon it’s alien?”

 She almost wishes it is. She could use a bit of a thrill about now. “Should we ask the Doctor?”

 “Wait, you don’t reckon her weirdness has got to do with this weirdness?”

 “Like I said, don’t believe in coincidences.” And just as she says it, cementing it, the universe goes and proves her right. The phone rings.

 …

 The Doctor doesn’t hear the tone. She doesn’t hear much of anything, actually, because her ears are pounding with the sound of time twisting, space warping, cries scraping across it like – what was that human saying? – nails on a chalkboard. It was only going to get worse, she knew that. Even if she rushed to the other end of the universe, it would follow her. Maybe slowly at first, but it would come. It would never, ever stop.

 She grasps the edge of the kitchen counter for balance. Good old furniture – nice and sturdy.

 “Doc?” (Doc, doc, doc) it echoes out and mixes in with the noise. Someone used to call her that. The sound is something to hold onto.

 “Yep, yep I’m here,” she groans, speaking underwater again. He’s not even a pinprick now, just an absence. She claws herself back.

 “You sure you’re okay Doc?” he’s holding a tray laden with teacups, and those little things she likes – biscuits.

 “Oh good, thanks Graham,” she murmurs, reaching a trembling hand out to the tray. She grabs a handful of biscuits and shoves them into her mouth.

 “Woah there, watch the tea!” he cries, “you hungry or something? I’ll fix you something proper.” When she doesn’t answer his face folds into an inquisitive line. His face is all full of lines, it reminds her of Eyebrows. She misses those lines, sometimes. Drawn together, they formed a mask to hide behind, the grooves pressed with vitriol and imposing anger. Sharp, icy eyes. This new face is all smooth, wide dark eyes, nothing to pull back and hide behind. She thinks it’s hard for people to take it seriously; the wonder, the youth, the gold. She’d found that out in Bilehurst Cragg, and in a thousand other little ways. Pity, that change was the largest. Nobody pities angry old men. “Your phone’s ringin’, that’s all. Want to go and get it?” Graham again. She can almost see him now – a speck on the horizon.

 “Phone,” she mumbles through the mass of cakey biscuits, “p h o n e,” she tries the sound out in her mouth. The sugar isn’t helping much – her tongue still tastes like blood.

 “Err, yeah,” he mutters. “Listen Doc, if you ain’t well we can give it a miss this week. Or, you could rest for a bit and pop back – wonders of time travel and all that,” he laughs, forced, drawn out. He’s expecting an answering chuckle and quip. Something bubbling and bumbling to put his mind at ease. (Your weakness is known. It will be exploited).

 “They’re tryin’ to undo me,” she whispers.

 “What? Doc please, give me somethin’ to work with here.”

 “We should get out of here. We should really, really get out of here.” Urgency keeps her sharp, all gasping words, repeating. Fear is a superpower.

 “Oi, what about the tea?” Graham cries after her as she darts from the kitchen, coat flying.

 “Forget the tea, Graham!” There are worse things to worry about than tea getting cold.

 She leaves him standing in the kitchen, tray still clasped steadily in his arms. He’s poured himself another mug, ever the addict, and four clouds of steam waft up into his face, lines pulled up into an expression of surprise.

 …

 Yaz can’t help it. She’s always been a little too curious for her own good. (Hello? Hello is anyone there?). The TARDIS phone continues to chime, muffled against the wooden panel. She prises it open before Ryan can utter a noise of reprimand. The sleek black phone rattles, and the ringing is replaced with something else. It grows, warping around the tone. Static. Her stomach drops as a memory stirs. The hole behind the wall is flooded all at once. Sweet bruises, bones grinding, and a song that could almost be beautiful, the frequency just a bit too far from what a human throat could produce. (Lord President).

 The lights begin to flicker. A dark shape rushes out from the hallway – the Doctor, bright to shadow by the millisecond as the lights crackle overhead. “What happened?” she asks. Snappy, and – but she couldn’t be – scared.

 “I – I didn’t do anything,” Yaz defends, casting a pleading look at Ryan. “I didn’t even answer it, it just –“

 “Never mind that,” she interrupts, “we need to go, right now.”

 “Doctor,” Ryan says, “what’s goin’ on?”

 “I’d like to know that too, actually,” Graham says, tray abandoned, out of breath.

 The TV blares on suddenly, curdled colour reaching out in tendrils. The noise follows it, and the patterns on the screen swirl into something that could be mistaken for a face. It hurts to look at.

 The Doctor cries out, doubling over and clutching her side. “We need,” she gasps, face contorted with pain, “into the TARDIS, now –“ she groans as Ryan’s phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls it out with apprehension. It burns hot, phone case melting at the corners. He drops it in alarm.

 Yaz is the first one to act, though it’s difficult to think anything at all, let alone move. Each flash of the lights illuminates the scene, the next frame in a stop motion film. Her feet feel rooted, connected to something deep in the ground. She pulls them out and dashes to the Doctor’s side.

 “Hey Doc, what’s that –“ Graham’s voice trails off as he blinks, pressing his eyelids together, furrowing those handy lines of his. “Lord President,” his voice sounds like his own, almost. There are more voices towing it along, some racing ahead, some lagging behind. Layered. “Your presence is required –“ he’s shaking, like his skin can’t keep up with whatever’s raging inside it. Blood trails from his nostril in a clear dark line.

 “Graham!” Ryan shouts, rushing over to him and grabbing his shoulders.

 “Comply, or we will be forced to take desperate measures –“ It’s coming from everywhere, without, within, propagating from each one of them like a beacon.

 “Doctor!” Yaz cries, still supporting her friend as she crumples towards the floor. “We need to get everyone inside!”

 “Yaz!” Ryan shouts, “I can feel it, I can –“ his eyes glaze, his arms hang limp. There’s a hint of a smile. “Kind regards.”

 The Doctor’s face screws up into a darkened grimace, head pushing up against the tide raining down, veins in her neck bulging. Yaz can see a hint of that old anger, the thing she doesn’t know is there, the lines. She seems to growl it. “Leave them alone!” Again, she doubles over, head hanging. A whimper. “I’ll come, I’ll come, I will,” she pleads. Yaz doesn’t think she’s ever heard so much fear. The Doctor’s voice is dripping with it. “Let them go, I’ll come… I’ll come.”

 (Lord President).

 “Just SHUT UP!” she screams, protest tearing through her throat.

 “Doctor, please, we need to go,” Yaz can’t keep the tremor from her voice. She’s been trained to deal with stressful situations – but this is beyond stress, it feels like she’s decomposing. “We need to go, something’s coming,” because the beat is getting louder and her heart throbs in her throat. The song is rising up like bile into her mouth, filling it with words. The world becomes a haze, and she feels nothing at all.

 …

 The voice at her shoulder starts up the tune, just another voice, amplifying it. Yaz’s voice. The Doctor’s knees give way to carpet. She grasps the stuff in tufts between her fingers, clawing at it like she claws at reality, at texture. They’re still searching, rifling through her mind for the thing that’s stirring there. The thing she saw in the untempered schism.

 “Your weakness is known. It will be exploited,” they chorus, dissonant. They know, of course they know, her pleading promises are empty. She won’t go willingly. She’s always been terrible at being psychic, and truths held so close are hard to disguise. She wonders how long her new friends will last before the signal burns them up.

 Trembling fingers grasp at her sonic, feeling the familiar sheen of Sheffield steel, reminding herself of who she is now. Just a traveller. No past, just her and some mates, larkin’ about. Calculations rattle through her head, fighting against the tide of the message, the spirals, the bloodied taste. She’s good in a tight spot.

 The Doctor raises her sonic as high as the spasming muscles in her arms will allow and fires it off. A beacon of golden light, a familiar buzz, like honey against the bitterness. It flares out, a brief respite. The lights fizzle out and leave them in darkness, the faint glow of a dying bulb overhead. There’s no time to wonder how many seconds she’s got. The weight pressing down on her, stones in a river, lift so suddenly that she feels as if she could float. Mind clear as a summer sky, no tar. She smiles, something a little wicked. Outsmarted again.

Her friends stagger and she shouts. “Let’s go team, into the TARDIS, right now!” They sway, fraught with confusion. Predictable – but the pinpricks grow to sprawling tapestries behind her eyes. “Now!” she emphasises, grabbing Yaz by the arm and frantically beckoning the other two. Thankfully, they don’t ask questions. She has a feeling they’re about to, and she’s not at all looking forward to it. Just as she half pushes Graham inside the TARDIS doors, she feels the beginnings of the hum again. A nibble at the back of her mind. She doesn’t wait for it to start gnawing. She pushes past her dazed friends and half dives onto the lever, not even bothering to set a destination. Run circles around them, she thinks, you’re good at that. It will follow her, though, a parasite. Burrowing under the skin, something she can’t shake. If she stops, even for a second… Well, one thing at a time. This version likes to live in the moment. That was part of the promise.

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Engravings

A/N: Italics are flashbacks, this ones a lil different to my usual style.

>>>>—————————>

———

"They're cool, kinda badass and luckily these ones are blank!"

"They're cheap and tacky. They haven't been engraved yet - where'd you steal 'em from?" He was always quick to pass judgement but it came from a kind place.

"Stall on the corner, I want to carve my name into it but I'm scared of messing it up."

"..."

———

"(Y/n) - Boss, we've captured the intruder and tied 'em up downstairs - want us to dispose of him?" Your peaceful drink at the bar was interrupted causing a halt to your paperwork as you glared at him.

"My my, so quick to get to the murder. You know it's both polite and resourceful to at least ask what they wanted, so come on." Placing down your pen, you ensured you looked presentable before heading down to the basement with your men strictly following like soldiers.

———

Your hands shook ever so slightly, fingers guiding the knife situated between them in sheer concentration though you'd yet to even graze the shiny steel. You winced, pulling away the blade with a frustrated sigh.

"Give it here, a knife is too big anyway." The exasperated tone of your friend reprimanded, briskly untangling the chain from your fingertips, then glaring at it before shoving it in his pocket and walking off into the alley leaving you with no explanation which left you to business on the streets.

———

The doors flung open signifying your arrival and the discovery was less than pleasant, a decently built male securely tied to a chair with guards standing on either side and his jacket and under armour folded on the table beneath his crimson helmet.

"Why did you uh... remove half of his clothes? That seems a tad unnecessary..."

"Ah that symbol electrocutes anyone in close proximity as Mal discovered but we didn't make that mistake twice." A henchmen quickly answered, sheepish expression on his face.

"Hm, clever. Is Mal okay though?" Not many held concern for their hired guns but you were a rare exception which is why your company were renowned for their loyalty toward you. Nevertheless, one of the guards nodded with a smile, once more placing down the offending piece of armour.

"Alright dumbass, what were you thinking breaking into my fine establishment?" Came your charming voice, fingers grazing across the back of the chair before stopping in front of your ravenette prisoner.

"That's no way to talk to your guests sweetheart, but admittedly it's one of the nicest places I've broken into." His icy gaze finally met yours, and that was when you noticed the reflective glint on his bare chest.

Instantly you knelt before the handsome stranger, fingertips barely brushing the heated silver before you received a vicious threat.

"Touch that and I'll personally make you regret it."

Regardless of his venomous attitude, you gently grasped the engraved dog tags - the gesture definitely not unnoticed by their wearer nor the foreign expression that briefly crossed your features.

———

"Oi!" The moment you'd acknowledged the voice, a slither of steel was slung in your direction capturing the light of the moon as it flew through the air.

You barely caught it, faltering before recognising the item and running your thumb over the new alterations.

'Name: (Y/n) (L/n)' accompanied by your birth date with enough space for another line if needed. However, you filtered through the next one as the tags originally came in a pair but this one was different.

'Name: Jason Todd'

'DoB: 16/08'

———

What surprised the majority in the room was your next swift movement, using the chain entangled around your digits you pulled him down to your level bringing your lips to his ear to prevent eavesdropping guards as a precaution.

"If you're Jason Todd, then what does (Y/n) (L/n) mean to you?" With your secretive whisper, the males muscles instinctively tensed and he looked to you with shock in his irises before scowling.

"That's a bold assumption."

"No, the fact you wear jewellery underneath your getup suggests it's sentimental. As it's a pair of engraved dog tags I would've thought military but there's no ID number and they're close to your heart aren't they?" Was your solemn explanation despite knowing exactly what they represented, though you still felt resentment radiating off of the captive as you waved your guards out of the room to speak more freely.

"How do you know I'm not (Y/n) (L/n) smartass?" Was his comeback, wrists twisting in his restraints.

"Because they're incredibly attractive, duh."

"Wait - you know (Y/n)? If you've done anything -" His voice seemed more lively now, like emotion was tied to that name and the hope of finding them.

"Just tell me why you're here already as I might be able to help." Unbeknownst to him, the person he seemed interested in stood right before him - not that you’d tell Jason that just yet.

———

"Why's your name on here?" You mischievously inquired, smirking at your now flustered friend.

"Wha- well because I made it, it's my signature duh." He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze diverted to Gothams' skyline and pout upon his lips that only made you laugh.

"Uh-huh suuurre."

"If you don't want it then throw my one back." Came the snappy callout, Jason now looking at you expectantly.

"And split them up? That'll look weird." You shook your head, playfully pulling the tags away from his grip as he went for them and proudly clipped them around your neck.

"People probably say the same about us to be honest."

"What was that red?!" You didn't quite hear whatever he'd muttered under his breath, but knowing it would've been somewhat sentimental his defensive reply was expected.

"Nothing jeez!"

———

"I want Black Masks location. Now your turn."

"Roman has no influence over me or my club but I know some regulars who work for him so we can sort something out." With a brisk motion you'd slit the restraints on his wrists thus freeing him.

It was a stupid thing to do, your fingers instantly reaching for your necklace out of nervousness once you'd turned your back on him - it was a habit, you'd put your faith into a common criminal and were hoping he wouldn't kill you now he had the opportunity.

Instantly you realised your mistake, seconds later you ended up with your back roughly trapped against the table, knife to your throat and 6ft war god holding you right where he wanted you.

"Thanks for the assist doll, but you never answered my question about -" As he pulled back, there was a strain, a twinkle of metal against metal as the two chains kept you tied together.

His gaze flicked from the interlocked dog tags then back to you, recognition flooding him instantly as the knife clattered against the tile and his brows furrowed as of analysing you.

"You were right, (Y/n) is incredibly attractive..." Jason was breathless, a contrast of awe and snugness on his handsome features.

"Speaking of, clothes!" You’d grabbed the folded material and shoved it into his chest with a huff whilst subtly attempting to hide your undoing due to the close proximity.

It didn’t take much to detangle the chains so he could get dressed but not without a somewhat interesting reunion - it had been a few years since you were misguided street kids.

"I heard you were dead." Jason started, no doubt he’d inquired about you on the streets but judging by the last man any of your old acquaintances saw you with, you didn’t blame them for their presumptions.

"I heard you were dead."

"Touché, I came back though. Not 100%, but back." Jason commented, scratching the back of his neck which already told you this was a sensitive subject that you noted to delve into in the near future among other things.

"We really changed huh, you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, I got taken in by Carmine Falcone and now we're on the same side again. Sort of..." You playfully shrugged, offering your friend a small smirk.

"Falcone - you became a freaking underground crimelord?!" His shock was evident, jacket dropping to floor whilst he rubbed his temples then gesturing for you to elaborate.

"Says you! Look I did what I did to survive, after Falcone was killed I stayed out of everyone's way and kept this club and it’s profits under my control. No one owns me anymore. But nice to see you kept my nickname for you Red Hood!"

“I knew you’d do great and I have my reasons, it’s not just because of you. Anyway, Black Mask - we should probably y’know...” The big bad vigilante was flustered, a gift of yours that supposedly maintained its effectiveness through the change and so you couldn’t help but continue.

“Are you sure, you did call me attractive.”

“Yeah well you are so... whatever. And besides, you’re rich but kept the cheap dogtags so I guess I’m not the only sentimental one.” Jason closed the distance as he spoke, a gentle brush over your heart as he tugged on your tags with a smirk.

Since you seem in so much of a hurry I’d love to properly catch up some time if you’d allow it. So I f you’re quite done staring at my lips Jason I’ve got a club to open and there’s someone we need to speak to.” You tilted your head in a challenging manner before making your way to the staircase with a devious smirk as you finished your implied invitation.

“...I haven’t missed you at all. Just so you know (Y/n)!” Your partner hollered after you, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing the helmet before joining your side with a playful nudge as you walked to the bar.

———

"Even though you're rich now, you still haven't grown out of throwing things at people!" You mocked anger, huffing at the offender.

"Not people, just you." Jason wittily replies along with a wink.

"Oh wow, thanks I'm honoured." Your sarcasm was fluent, inspecting what he’d thrown at you before commenting on the chain.

"Jason what's this, they're replicas of the dog tags I wear already."

"Yeah I know, but these are silver. They're better." His light blush went amiss as he stopped before you with his explanation.

"You brought these?"

"Figured I might as well get you something, besides like you said, I'm rich now."

"Keep 'em." You effortlessly tossed them back, Jason catching them with both disbelief and confusion.

"But I-"

"I don't care - I don't want them. I like my ones - they're had crafted by Jason Todd and I have the crafters signature to prove it. Although since they are almost a matching set..." You trailed off, Jason's curiosity piqued as you unclasped the silver and walked behind the male who, despite his wealthy residence, kept his red hoodie.

"You should keep it, that way you'll have me close to your heart like you are to mine." Came your continuation, latching the tags around his neck whilst you walked around to face him, fingers lingering on the silver in the centre of his chest.

"Never knew you cared."

"Oh I don't, but I still have the original Red. And the originals are always more valuable."

———

[fogboundsurvivor]

No Mither

No Mither

NSFW Fanfic by D. Johansson

David worked at the generator tirelessly, fumbling with the wires inside. He was so dead tired of running. His friends had already fallen and for whatever reason the escape shoot had not appeared for him. It was as if the Entity wanted to be an extra bitch on this cold night in Haddonfield. He tapped the wires together, hoping to make a spark, which he did, but only made the generator jump and let out a loud noise. It sputters and dies. He curses inwardly.

Ghostface stalked David from the shadows, crouched down and in Night Shroud. He could tell this particular iteration of David was different from the last. This one had a beard and he definitely didn't seem to know his way around the generator. He had already had his way taking down all of the other 3 survivors in the trial but was surprised to see that this David didn't even seem to know that. This sent an excited chill down Ghostface's spine, he was going to enjoy this. He would go about scrapping a knife against the wall, making a noise loud enough for David to hear but not know the source of.

David gulps...and moves toward an open window, but the window’s paneling comes undone and he falls backwards with a grunt. He looks up at the window and sees that it’s been blocked off by the entity. He was confused, but he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise when he heard the sound of a knife dragging against a wall. He made a move for another window, only for the entity to block it off to. He turns to the doorway..

To find that there was nothing there.

There was a moment of pure silence before suddenly David was grabbed from behind, a knife's point immediately being pressed against his neck.

"Gotta be quicker than that, Davey boy! The Entity doesn't like any slow poke survivors."

The Ghostface's voice was giddy, like he had caught a mouse in a trap that wasn't dead quite yet. Oh he couldn't wait to do all the things he wanted to do to this David

“Wait...Wait...please don’t.” David pleads, eyes darting for anything he could use. His own heart was in his throat. He could just faintly smell the vaguely minty breath of his captor. And also some rather fragrant cologne. Guess the killer wanted David to know he was there. David tried to get out of his grip.

“Oh I'm not going to kill you just yet. I've been a good little boy so the Entity said you're free for me to do what I want before I send you back to another campfire."

When he noticed the struggling, he would go forward with making a slight cut on the neck that wasn't fatal but also sent the point across that if he struggled it would only make things worse.

“Maybe if you're a good sport, I'll let you escape. Just got to play along and don't be a brat."

David grits his teeth and slowly puts his hands up* “What do you want with me...?” *David asks quietly, he was afraid to make another move, he could feel blood trickling down his neck, staining his black undershirt.

“You Davids have been running me rabid all damn day. With your altruism, getting in the way of hits and always being there to help your survivor friends on the hook."

The hand that was previously twisting one of David's arms in an uncomfortable position moved away to grab the man's ass.

“You help me vent my frustration and the hatch is all yours."

David’s eyes widened at the grab..and he shuddered. Partly due to fear...and partly due to the first stirrings of arousal. He shook the later thought away. Nobody’s touched him in god knows how long.....

”No.” He told himself. This was a killer. Who just murdered his friends. That took away the arousal and he heard Ghostface click his tongue

“I’m...sorry.” David said...trying to keep him talking.

"Oh, David. You have no idea how excited that makes me. An unwilling participant this late into the game is so much fun."

Ghostface sounded disappointed in the beginning of that but it turned into excitement very late into it.

“Thank you for this opportunity."

With that, Ghostface would move the hand off of his ass and onto his shoulder. With his far superior strength granted by the Entity, Ghostface basically sprinted forward with David coming along for the ride. It would go on for a moment before Ghostface came to a stop, only he let David go. He let David go right into a freefall down the staircase to the basement, Ghostface finding a sick thrill out of watching David ragdoll down to the landing in the stairs.

David groans and yelps when he hits the bottom. He could tell that his ankle was definitely broken. He turns and crawls for the front door, before being blocked by the body of Dwight. His shirt and pants had been sliced open and his face had a used condom thrown ontop of it. Along with a Polaroid photo of...Ghost face facefucking him. David, grabbing the wall, pushed himself to his feet and he stepped over the violated body of Dwight and limped into the street. He made it to the cop car and went around it, sliding to the floor and looking over the hood. He could see Ghostface walking out of the house. A predator in its element. He was definitely doubting his chances of the hatch at this point. He looked to his already bruising ankle and let out a quiet moan of pain. Trying to stifle the sound by breathing through his nose.

“Bastard...” David whispers to himself. He looks back at his ankle then back towards the Myer’s House. Ghostface was gone and David felt himself turn pale. Panicked now, he limped into a side yard.. a hedge park by the looks of it. several rows of park benches lied within. He sat himself down slowly by a hedge and took off his jacket and shredded it. Trying to make some bindings for his ankle. What he didn’t hear was the click of a camera just out of the way..

There was Ghostface, looking at the slowly developing polaroid in his hand. He seemed to be enjoying himself, chasing after the injured David.

“Wow, David. Getting too excited and ruining all the fun for me? I wanted to tear up the jacket myself."

He would walk over and kick the man over, getting him down onto his back before he would go to step down firmly on David's crotch, hard enough to cause some mild pain but not too hard just yet.

"You like what happened to Dwight? Little nerd did better than I thought. Better than Jeff and Jake, that's for sure."

David groaned as his head hit the grass, he felt Ghostface pressing a boot into his crotch and let out a whimper. He looked up at him, trying not to let his fear express onto his face.

“You..did that to all of them?” David asks.

"Well, why not look for yourself?"

He tossed down two polaroids for David to look at.

One was of Jake, he had been caught just as he finished sabotaging a hook and Ghostface had kicked him down right as the hook fell down, right on Jake' poor leg. The picture had Jake with his eyes rolled back as he was taking Ghostface from behind.

Next was two for Jeff who was currently suffering a similar fate. He was mid chase when he accidentally leaped a window right as Ghostface did. Thanks to Ghostface running Bamboozle, Jeff was effectively stuck in the window. The first polaroid was of Jeff's backside, flooding after a few uses and the other polaroid was his front side, his hair being the only visible identifier as his face was completely coated.

“They're nice photos. I took them myself."

David’s eyes widened and his chest heaved. He tried to move backwards, pushing with his good leg, but Ghostface’s boot on his crotch kept him in place. The pictures of his friend’s stretched open holes and the subsequent demises fresh in his head. He turned to look away, before laying flat on the ground.

“When they entity took me in, they told me I could have anything I desire as long as I killed you fools for it."

There was an unzip before Ghostface would move his foot away, leaning over to grab a handful of David's hair before sitting him up. He would sit him up so David could be meet face to face with Ghostface's massive cock.

“I told it I wanted this. I get to have my fun and the entity gets it's sacrifices. Quite the equivalent exchange."

David felt it against his face and he blushed a little. The man’s cock was massive...much, much bigger than he’s ever seen. He felt a little emasculated by the size of it. He looked up pitifully at Ghostface.

“You’re huge..” David said quietly...feeding Ghostface’s ego.

“How about we strike up that deal now? You take this to the hilt from both ends, and the hatch is all yours. If you reject it now, I'll do it anyways before I shove you on that hook."

He would cock slap David. Seeing the normally confidant David suddenly made into a whimpering bitch felt amazing. He loved it so much and couldn't wait to feel this again with other Davids later on.

David always thought he was straight...until he was pulled into the realm of the entity that drunken night. He spends what felt like eternity of lonely escapes before he ended up surviving with Jeff one trial. The two met back at the camp fire and Jeff asked David if he wanted to talk about the trial..David reluctantly agreed. It ended with Jeff going for the first kiss... then introducing David to the first pierced cock he’d ever seen, licked, sucked and taken.

David closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, before nodding. He looked up at him and opened his mouth wide, licking the tip of his captor’s cock.

A flash would appear in David's face, Ghostface taking a picture for memories sake. He had to show the other killers he never messed around after all.

“Got it for publicities sake, anyways go faster." Ghostface demanded, and its all David would get before Ghostface would move forward and part of his cock was shoved into David's mouth.

David took it a step further, taking as much of the cock he could down his throat. Tears running down his face and he bobbed his head onto it, one hand going up to fondle the large set of balls underneath the monster cock as well. He gagged and saliva ran down his chin and as worked the cock as aggressively as he could. Trying to get the ordeal over with. Hoping if he came...maybe he wouldn’t violate him further.

Ghostface would grab his head to make him stop, in order make him look up at him.

“Remember our deal, the whole thing has to go in that mouth David."

He would let go in order to let him proceed.

David tries his best, struggling to get down to the hilt of his cock. He gets onto his knees and feels a mix of salvia and pre cum fall out of his mouth. He gets frustrated and grunts, trying to take it further. He ends up choking and letting the cock slide out of his throat as he gags on air and sputters. His vision swimming from the coughing fit.

“Got 10 seconds. Start now! 1..2...3.."

Ghostface gave David 10 seconds to get a nice breath before he gets back to work on his cock. He had plans later, like gloating to Joe's smug mask about how much better of a killer Ghostface was.

David goes in for it again, only gagging immediately. He whines in defeat before looking up at Ghostface pleadingly.

“Please..I can’t do it...” David admits..face red from both embarrassment and effort. He lays on his back and spreads his big thighs apart “Please...just fuck me...use me...just don’t kill me like the others..” He whined.

“I’ll be good...so good...please.” David begs, tears running down his face.

Ghostface would go around back to his mouth.

“Oh don't be a fucking bitch David! You're going do it whether you like it or not!"

He would grab his head and in one quick motion, shove his cock in and jam the entire thing down his throat. He knew the Entity would make it to where David would only dry heave and he knew the Entity was above allowing asphyxiation being a cause of death here. He would hold him for a few seconds before letting go of David.

David sputters and chokes on air...feeling his throat get throughly resized. After realizing he couldn’t choke to death, he grabs Ghostface’s cock and shoved it down his throat pushing Ghostface’s hips towards his face as if to say “Use my mouth.”

As sick as it was David was kind of turned on by being used like a slut by someone stronger than him...perhaps that’s why he enjoyed fighting and violence. The pain always was his drive...

He felt drool slides down the sides of his mouth as the spit and throat slicked cock pumped in and out his mouth. His lips were bruised and cracking at the strain.

"I was planning on sending you back to the campfire with a souvenir. My cum all over and inside your pathetic body."

It was rare that Ghostface broke someone and it was extremely rare that it was a David. This was getting far more interesting. He was going to make sure everyone at that camp fire knew exactly what happened here.

David could feel Ghostface’s balls rest on his face. He pulled off the monster cock and sucked and licked on them, stroking the massive cock above him...he even got bolder and went to give Ghostface’s hole a sloppy lick. He was lost...hopeless and wanting to please the man that held his current fate in his hands... He tongued his hole and then went back to furiously and sloppily sucking on his monster cock. His ankle throbbed and he was getting covered in various viscous layers of saliva. David’s rebellious attitude was lost..only a cock hungry slut remained. He wanted to please his captor so bad...he felt the tears still running down his face but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to live and pleasing this monster was his only way out. That did not fly so well with Ghostface. He would force David off his cock and would pick him up and slam him down bent over a picnic table.

“That wasn't in our little deal, Davey.... I guess you can't teach a dog to listen. The hatch never opened, Davey. Your chance of escape was done the moment you fell down those stairs. Might as well enjoy what happens next before you go back to the campfire." Ghostface taunted.

He would line up with David's hole and without even giving him a moment to brace himself before just shoving inside of David. He had some mercy before but this was nothing held back. If only David had listened.

He could feel Ghostface trying to penetrate him through his sweatpants and he let out a startled chuckle. “Think I may need to lose the pants before ya do that..” David taunts. Since his fate was sealed, he felt adrenaline pump through his veins.

There a moment before a knife came down directly down on David's back, narrowly missing his spine or anythint vital, before it would go back to cut open his pants and boxers.

“You want to be a little shit huh? I'll show you want little shits like you deserve."

With that, the hilt of the blade would go up David's ass without any sort of grace or theateric Ghostface was known for.

David howled at the sudden penetration. He could feel it go about four inches inside before being stopped by the guard of the blade. He let out a groan, leaning into the table. He could feel the cold air around his as his muscular ass, balls and limp cock were exposed to the air.

“Motherfucker...ahh...shit...” David spat out.

“I was going to make it quick but bitch decided he wanted to do slowly."

He was not happy, he'd reach in his coat to pull out another knife. He'd pin David's head down before he would very roughly cut away at his beard, with sense of caution or percision when it came to it.

David watched his facial hair hit the table sadly. He was really enjoying his beard...he felt humiliated as he could feel his hole tighten around the hilt of the blade. He shifted his position slightly and moaned quietly as the hilt rubbed against that spot inside him. His face and ass both felt raw now. “Fuck....I’ve...been bad.” David groans into the table.

He would grab his hair and pull his head up, getting semi close face to face.

“You're damn right." Ghostface whispered huskily into his ear.

The knife would come down to pin David's right hand to the table before Ghostface went to the back, removing the knife before lining up with his cock instead. With the same amount of mercilessness, he would shove his cock inside of David.

David lets out a bloodcurdling scream as he feels his hand get pinned to the table. Before he has time to process that, he feels all 13 inches of Ghostface’s thick cock tear open his abused hole. He lets out a painful yelp and groan before feeling his legs turn to jelly. Ghostface would thrust with wreckless abandon as he mostly did it for the sake of punishing David at this point. Even though every wound on David was going to disappear after the trial was over, he wanted to make sure David was going to remember the pain for a very long time. David looked down and he could swear he could see Ghostface’s cock rearrange his guts through his stomach. He swore he could see it poke the flesh of his belly from within. He felt sick...but he felt the thick member continue to hit places inside David he didn’t know he had. He cried out again...his eyes wet and swollen as he felt his own cock swell with arousal...all this pain was beginning to feel way too good to him. “You’re going into shock.” He tried to remind himself to no avail.

“Fuckme....fuck...me....please...god hurt me...” He moans out.

"I'm going to ruin you, David. I want to make sure that nobody is going to make your ass feel as stretched as I make it tonight. Everytime your whore ass tries to take someone smaller, you'll remember me."

He had no doubt in his mind that nobody else the Entity had in their grasp came close to his size. This was going to be David's torture, the constanty longing for Ghostface's cock that he'll never feel again. It was going to be so sweet. “God...I can...feel you so deep...!” David says, and pushes back into Ghostface’s cock and arches his back. Taking the punishment with vigor now. He could feel his hard cock rubbing against the rough wood of the bench now. He was lost in lust now. He knew Ghostface was ruining his hole, and he loved every second of it...maybe after this he would get the guys to run a train on his so he could try to feel this kind of deep, unrelenting pain again.

Ghostface would go for what felt like forever, using whatever ungodly stamina the Entity had given him. Ghostface has already had a plan for after the trial. It took thousands of perfect trials, gritting his teeth through Mettle of Man, Borrowed Time, and Adrenaline on survivors or purple rarity flashlights to get 4 Kills for it.

He begged the Entity and he got it. The survivors of this trial were being sent to a different campfire, one where Ghostface or any killer he allows can enter, and use the four broken mindless slut survivors.

David was half collapsed onto the table, broken and a groaning mess. He had already cum twice onto the bench seat and his balls were swollen beyond belief. He was just waiting for the sweet release of death and Ghostface at this point. He could barely feel his hole anymore, only the massive sex organ rearranging his guts inside. He wondered how much energy Ghostface had left at this point..

Ghostface would slam to hilt inside of David before he came deep into the quote unquote survivor. It was massive and it felt so nice to get another load off for the end of the trial for Ghostface. He'd pull out and let it flood out, similar to the backside of Jeff polaroid.

“Well thanks for playing this game, David."

Finally, Ghostface would pull out his knife from David's hand.

David whimpered at the knife being pulled out and sunk into the table, he could feel the cum pushing its way out of his abused hole.

“Do it....finish me off...” David says quietly, pressing his forehead into the table.

“Gladly." The Killer says,

With a flash of his blade, he would raise it up and then....

David would open his eyes to find himself back at the campfire.

“Holy shit...” David says, feeling his face to find his beard miraculously still there. He looked around to see Jake, Jeff and Dwight all sitting there quietly staring at him.

“What?” He asks, before he feels a gallon of cum slide down his leg. “Oh fuck...that was..”

“Real?” Jeff finishes.

David lets out a soft whimper as he strips out of the pants and cleans himself off. He throws the remains in the fire and watches it burn. He pulls on some track pants and shudders.

He silently wonders what the hell did it mean.

[dreaming-paradise-dixie]

You Were There

Mother’s Day prompt by @talesofdorks: Ruby/Yang Summary: "Mom is. . . Gone," Ruby hesitated, deflating for a moment before regaining her composure, "and Dad wasn't and still isn't around a lot. But you were there! So in a way, you're my mother! I know it sounds weird considering you're my sister and all, but you did raise me and take care of me."

It was Mother's Day.

Ruby was sitting in the grass in front of her mother's memorial stone, reliving the events the month had thrown at her. She had quite a few stories to tell mother, and she knew the woman was seated right beside her listening to her every word. She could feel her presence, as strange as it was. Maybe it was just her hoping her mother was here with her, but she didn't feel alone. She imagined her mother laughing at the stories she told her, explaining some of the things Yang had done, how their father reacted, and even told a few about herself.

"Oh! And yesterday, I tried to make breakfast for Yang since she wasn't feeling good, and I almost set the kitchen on fire! Yang came running downstairs when she heard the smoke alarm going off, I told her I was making food for her and she was all like 'oh well that's sweet of you, Ruby, but the oven is on fire!', then she put it out. Dad came home a few minutes later and had to remodel the kitchen since I killed the oven and part of the wall was scorched."

She'd never forget the panicked look on her sister's face when she'd barged into the kitchen and put out the fire before it spread. They'd hoped the oven had survived the disaster, but the moment Yang brought it up, it had went completely out. Needless to say, Tai wasn't too pleased about having to purchase a new oven and replace the charcoal-like wall. After a moment of laughter, Ruby moved on to the next story. She and Yang had spent the rest of the day outside in the backyard playing while Tai cleaned up. They'd set up their stuffed animals (well, Ruby's stuffed animals) and pretended to be professionally trained huntresses killing Grimm and saving the world.

During the game, Ruby had tripped all over the red cloak she'd received for her birthday and had skinned her knees. Yang had been by her side in a second and had helped her into the house, cleaned up the wounds, and had bandaged them. "When do you think I'll unlock my aura?" Ruby had asked, having seen her sister's aura heal her scrapes and bruises.

"Probably soon if you keep hurting yourself like this." Yang had replied. She was right, too.

"I didn't tell you, did I?" Ruby's eyes lit up, suddenly cutting off her story. "I unlocked my aura last night! Yang was going to check on me and I had felt something all tingly in my knees, I pulled the bandages off and my knees were healed! She told me that it looked like I'd unlocked my aura! 'About time', she said. Maybe I'll discover my semblance soon, too!" Ruby grinned, briefly explaining that the color was ironically ruby red. She found it funny, but really, what other color would it be?

After a few more stories and a lot of rambling, Ruby had realized that the sun was beginning to set and started home. She used to stay out until midnight, but Grimm were becoming more and more frequent in the area and Yang wanted her home before she became a target. The last time she'd stayed out late, she'd just barely avoided becoming their next victim. Yang was trying to teach her self-defense, but she was more focused on forging her own weapon.

Maybe once she had her scythe built and began her training Yang would relax about her safety; Ruby loved her sister, but Yang was just a tad bit overprotective. She was getting better, though.

"Oh! That's right! I should get something for Yang!" Ruby realized. Her sister had played the role of a mother for as long as she could remember, she knew Yang gave up her own childhood just to give her one. Sure, their father was around a lot more often, but it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Yang had raised Ruby all on her own. With a little help from their uncle, of course, considering the blonde was young, stubborn, and impulsive.

She didn't have any money to buy her sister something very expensive, and there wouldn't be any flowers down the trail heading home, so maybe she could visit town and see if she could buy any cheap flowers on sale. She had a bit of money left over from their uncle, but she'd spent almost all of it on cookies. . .

Heading down the path that took her into town, she pulled out the change from her pockets and began to count. Ruby grumbled a 'crap' under her breath when she realized she was missing two silver pieces. She must've lost them somewhere down the trail. . . "Girl pockets are the worst!"

Within five minutes, she'd walked into town and had gone into the first store she laid eyes on. Her father was friends with the owner and she and Yang would often come up here to buy flowers for their mother's memorial site. The shop owner also had the most delicious homemade cookies, so Ruby had become a frequent customer.

"Hey, Ruby!" A thick voice caught her attention and the eleven-year old whirled around to see a tall, lanky man with a short, dog-like tail approaching her with a bag in hand. "I figured you'd stop by today. Here for some cookies for you and your sister? I already have your bag prepared." He handed the bag of cookies to her and Ruby smiled nervously.

Yang wasn't here. These cookies would be gone before she got home, even if was simply a ten minute walk back to their house.

"Actually, Mister-"

"Please, just call me Rufous." The faunus replied with a happy smile and Ruby nodded, explaining that she'd stopped by for some flowers for Yang. She sheepishly informed him that she would probably have the cookies gone before she was even half way home when he asked if the cookies would do. After a moment, the man nodded and lead her outside and into his greenhouse. "Take your pick!" It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for; a vase full of every color rose she could think of. They were perfect!

She'd had just enough money to purchase the roses, the cookies were given to her for free.

"Thank you, Mis- I mean Rufous!" She called, racing out of the store and towards her home. It was getting pretty dark, Yang was probably beginning to worry about her. She wasn't sure if her father would be home or not, she could never tell with him. Slowing down to a quick jog, Ruby reached into the bag and pulled out a freshly cooked chocolate chip cookie.

She grinned. "Jackpot!" She thought, devouring the cookie and savoring the taste. She loved it when they were fresh out of the oven; Rufous must've made an extra batch just for her. "I really should ask for the recipe, if he would give it to me. Maybe Yang could make them for me! Then I could have cookies whenever I want!"

Probably not, though. Yang insisted that eating sweets constantly would be bad for her teeth. She hadn't had a cavity yet, so surely they couldn't be that bad. Then again, her sister made sure that she ate healthy and would only allow her to have sweets before breakfast/dinner on special occasions such as her birthday.

Reaching into the bag again for another cookie, a pitiful whine escaped her throat when she realized it was empty. There were nothing but crumbs inside the bag! She'd eaten them that fast? "I want more. . ." She huffed as she crumbled up the bag and began tossing it back and forth like a ball. She'd been taught not to litter and toss your trash to the side, it was harmful to the environment and the animals. Somebody's beloved pet could think the trash is food, consume it, and then die! She didn't want that blood on her hands.

Ruby glanced up to see her house in the distance and she grinned, breaking into a run and clutching the flowers tightly so that she wouldn't drop and shatter the vase. The front door was open, so she charged straight into the house and shot the empty bag towards the trashcan as if it were a basketball. "Goal!" She cheered, ringing the basket perfectly.

Footsteps came running down the staircase and Ruby set the flowers down just before she was pulled into a bone-crushing bear hug. "You're okay!" Yang cried, her voice laced with worry and fear. "I seen on TV that there were Grimm on the outskirts of town, and I was so worried you had run into them!"

"No Grimm. . . Need air. . ." Ruby managed to cough out, gasping for air when Yang released her.

"What are these for? Are they for Mom?" Yang asked, eyeing the flowers sitting on the table. "They're really pretty, I'm sure she'll love them! We can put them on the stone tomorrow morning, if you want." Ruby shook her head and grinned, grabbing the small vase and presenting it to her older sister.

Yang raised a brow, "They're for you!" Ruby informed her and the older blonde gave her a warm smile. "I know it must be hard for you to take care of me since you're still a child yourself, and you've sacrificed a lot for me! Mom is. . . Gone," Ruby hesitated, deflating for a moment before regaining her composure, "and Dad wasn't and still isn't around a lot. But you were there! So in a way, you're my mother! I know it sounds weird considering you're my sister and all, but you did raise me and take care of me - I mean you still do, but-"

Yang cut her off, "Thank you, Ruby." She chuckled as she took the vase from the rambling redhead, "I would've wanted some sunflowers or something, though. Roses are kind of your thing." Yang grinned when Ruby shot her a displeased look, "I'm kidding, they're from you, my baby sister, so they're perfect."

Ruby was pulled into a gentle, one-armed hug and she smiled, "We can pick up some for Mom tomorrow, I kind of forgot- what are you doing?" Yang had pulled away from the embrace and had begun picking the white roses from the vase, setting them down on the table. "Do you not like the white ones? There was a-" Ruby panicked, thinking maybe she'd upset her sister.

"These are for Mom," Yang smiled, "put them in spare vase and we can take them to her tomorrow." Ruby grinned and raced off to grab a vase. Returning with it, setting the roses inside, and filling it with water, she set it on the counter to take to the memorial site first thing in the morning.

"Hey Ruby?" She glanced at her sister, who offered her a gentle smile, "I didn't sacrifice anything. I love taking care of you, you're my baby sister and I'll always be here when you need me."

The eleven-year old returned the smile, "I know. . . Thank you, Yang."