#look either i kick even out of the tardis every time these guys go do immortal shit or i find a was to Fix this problem and i dont really

[quietwingsinthesky]

most frustrating part of writing a doctor who oc is that the doctor and the master will both sometimes just fuck off and do their own thing for a hundred years and be unfazed by it because they are functionally immortal. and i can’t stick my oc with them because they’ll just. die. so what, do i just put them in a pen until those guys get back? spruce up their enclosure while they’re waiting to get picked up to go on adventures again?

[whaleofatjme1920]

The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

[milfjensenackles]

nothing safe is worth the drive

2.8k words | read it on ao3

found family road trip :) I decided team free will 2.0 needed a vacation 

“Let’s go on a vacation.”

Dean walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from Sam. Sam looked up from his newspaper, incredulous at the suggestion. “A vacation? Since when do you, of all people, want to take a break from hunting?”

Dean smirked. “We’ve been working hard for years, Sammy. I think we all deserve a break. You, me, Cas, and Jack. We could… go on a road trip! There’s plenty of stuff you and I haven’t seen yet. We could drive to California and see the ocean, maybe stop by those tourist traps like the ‘Biggest Ball of Twine’ or whatever.”

Sam shook his head and laughed at his older brother. Dean’s eyes were lit up with excitement, though, and who was he to ruin that? “Sure, Dean. Sounds good.”

Dean clapped his hands together before running down the hall to share the news with Cas and Jack. Sam smiled to himself. This would be interesting.

Cas and Dean had started dating only a few months ago, so things were still relatively new and exciting between them. Dean still struggled with not only giving Cas the love he deserved, but accepting that Cas loved him, of all people. It was difficult, coming to terms with the fact that loving Cas meant that he liked dudes in general. Dean still wasn’t comfortable labelling himself, and Cas was okay with that.

Dean’s thoughts wandered back to the day he and Cas finally got their shit together. Dean, after a grueling five days in The Empty, finally brought his angel home. After a tearful homecoming, Sam and Jack retired to their bedrooms, leaving Dean alone with Castiel for the first time since they said goodbye. Dean suggested a movie they’d already seen plenty of times, and Cas agreed easily as usual. As they settled into the couch together, Dean couldn’t help but focus his gaze on Cas’ lips. Cas couldn’t help but notice. Dean remembers Cas looking nervous, before slowly asking: “What’s going on here, Dean?” As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Dean’s hands were on his face and his lips were pressed against Castiel’s.

Dean finished the walk to his bedroom. Their bedroom. Cas moved in only last week. Another new thing Dean wasn’t used to yet, but he loved it all the same. Cas didn’t have many belongings, so the transition ended up being easier than Dean anticipated. Dean purchased another nightstand for Cas, which Cas covered with a small lamp and some framed photos of his family. One of Cas and Dean, with Cas holding the camera and Dean pressing a kiss to his cheek. Another of the four of them, sitting around the table and eating pizza. The final one shows a smiling Jack, arms around both of his dads.

Hearing Dean move into the room, Cas looked up from his book to smile softly. Dean grinned back, leaning over their bed to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. Cas gave Dean his best disgruntled face before softening again, holding his arms out for Dean to join him. Dean kicked off his shoes, immediately kicking his leg over to straddle Cas. Cas stretched up to meet Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and pressing their lips together. Even after all this time, Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach every time Cas kissed him. They stayed there for a moment, wrapped up in one another, trading lazy kisses back and forth. Cas swiped his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip and his hands started wandering lower on Dean’s waist. Dean regretfully pulled back, placing his hands on either side of Cas’ face. “Before you completely distract me”, he kissed the tip of Cas’ nose quickly, “I came in here to ask you something.”

Cas pecked at the bolt of Dean’s jaw one more time before quirking an eyebrow at him. “Okay. What did you want to ask me?”

“So… I was talking to Sam. What do you think about all of us going on a trip?”

“A vacation?” Cas smiled. “I’d like that very much, Dean.”

Satisfied with that answer, Dean returned to their previous activities. Cas definitely didn’t mind.

***

“You guys finish packing yet?”

“Yes, Dean. Almost done.” Even though Dean couldn’t see his face from the hallway, he knew Cas was rolling his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to care, focusing instead on his own luggage.

Dean had mapped out their entire trip. As fate would have it, they happened to be passing by the twine ball Dean had mentioned on their way to the Grand Canyon, seeing as it was only thirty minutes from the bunker. Cas suggested a stop at a honeybee farm that gave tours in Utah, and Dean couldn’t say no to that. Once Jack became privy to the information that Dean was taking requests, he made an extensively researched list of the places he’d like to visit. When Dean saw it, he gave Cas a look, but Cas merely shrugged and smiled softly at Jack. In that moment, Dean knew he was absolutely whipped by the man in front of him. He’d do anything to make Cas and their son happy.

They packed the Impala to the brim, including camping supplies for when they reached their destination. Dean hadn’t been this excited in… well. He had never been this excited before. He never had a chance to do the normal stuff, like a real family vacation. He and Sam had never really even had a family to go on a vacation with.

Dean rolled his shoulders back to shake the thought from his head as he reached up to close the trunk of the Impala. Cas and Jack strolled up to the car a moment later, arms full of suitcases and backpacks.

“Did you pack the whole bunker?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

Cas looked confused. “No, Dean. We only packed items that we thought might be useful on the trip. How would we fit the entire bunker into these bags?”

Dean threw his head back and barked out a laugh before unceremoniously pressing a kiss to Cas’ lips. He reveled in the feeling of Cas’ mouth against his, not caring if anyone could see them. “Where’s Sam?”

“He told me to tell you that he was almost ready and would be out in a minute!” Jack was already in the backseat, very proud of himself for passing along Sam’s message.

Eventually, Sam finally appeared, ignoring the mumbles from Dean about his tardiness. Dean started driving.

***

The World’s Largest Ball of Twine was… less than impressive, in Dean’s opinion. Cas and Jack found it fascinating though, so it ended up being worth the trip. Cas managed to purchase a t-shirt, without Dean noticing, that said in big block letters: Check Out My Balls. In the center of the shirt sat two circles of twine. Sam burst out laughing when he saw Cas walk up to the Impala wearing it, but Dean thought it was adorable. Jack was holding his souvenir, a small twine ball keychain. He insisted that he was going to use it to break the previously held record for largest twine ball once they arrived home to the bunker.

Once they got back on the road, Jack immediately requested to stop for McDonald’s. Dean groaned but knew Sam would have to stop to use the bathroom soon anyway. Dean pulled into the parking lot, and as expected, Sam rushed out of the car immediately. Cas handed Jack some cash to get food for everyone, and then it was just Cas and Dean waiting. Dean looked over at Cas. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was sometimes. Cas had the most beautiful blue eyes Dean had ever seen, and they were even more impressive with the evening sun reflecting on them. Cas realized Dean was staring and reached out to run his thumb along Dean’s hand. “I hope you’re having fun.”

Cas’ voice always made him weak, especially when he was worried about Dean. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Cas smiled, content to sit in the front seat of the Impala, palm pressed to the back of Dean’s hand, for the rest of the evening. They were soon interrupted by their son though, hands full of burgers and fries with a huge grin on his face. Sam followed soon after with a salad and a water bottle. Dean rolled his eyes at him before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

***

By the time they were close to Jack’s first location request, Cas was starting to get a little grumpy from the lack of sleep. It was day three of their trip now. Some days, Dean would stop at a motel for them to stay in, but yesterday he chose to drive through the night. Cas stayed up with him, fighting against Dean’s argument that at least one of them should get some shut eye. “Dean, if I don’t stay awake, you’ll fall asleep behind the wheel. You can’t get by on four hours anymore.”

Dean snorted. “You callin’ me an old man?”

Cas smirked and Dean pushed at his shoulder softly, grinning to himself.

Sam groaned from the backseat. “You guys are such an old married couple.”

Quirking an eyebrow at Sam in the rearview mirror, Dean pulled to a stop at a red light before reaching over to give Cas an obnoxious kiss, releasing his lips with a loud pop. “Jealous much, Sammy?”

Sam mimed a gagging motion at the display, while Jack looked on with glee. “I didn’t know you and Dad were married!”

Dean choked at that, coughing for a good minute before stuttering out, “I- we’re not- Jack- “

“Dean and I are in an intimate relationship, but we are not married. Although, I would like to marry him someday.” Cas cut Dean off, speaking with certainty.

Dean gaped at that. They hadn’t even said they love each other yet, and Cas was thinking about marriage? “You want to marry me?”

“Of course, Dean. Why wouldn’t I?” Cas was smiling at Dean now. Dean couldn’t help but smile back, lacing their fingers together.

“Alright, enough of this gross couple stuff. We get it, you’re in love and it’s disgustingly sweet. Let’s stop for dinner.” Sam said, a hand running through his hair, obviously frustrated with himself for being the one to start this conversation.

***

Today marked their fifth day on the road, and they were finally going to the honeybee sanctuary Cas was desperate to visit. Dean was actually pretty excited too. Anything was better than Sam’s pick, which had been a weird museum back in Colorado. Dean couldn’t remember what the museum was actually for, he couldn’t focus on all of the old relics and ancient artifacts when Cas was right there. Cas was Dean’s favorite ancient relic, which he decided to share with Cas, only to be greeted with the bitchface Cas saves only for Dean.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the farm, which was made up of an assortment of small buildings along with green fields that extended for miles. Jack tumbled out of the backseat, dragging Cas by the elbow to the front door. Sam and Dean followed closely behind, watching as Cas and Jack pointed out various new sightings to one another. By the time Sam and Dean met up with them, Cas had already signed them up for a tour of the farm and a session explaining how honey is harvested and sold.

Their tour guide started speaking as he walked backwards, explaining the purpose of the farm, “This honeybee sanctuary is a place that supports the health and positive transformation of the honeybees that come to stay with us. Honeybees are an endangered species, so we do everything we can to protect them and maintain their species. Up ahead, you’ll see one of our beekeepers working with a hive to prepare for honey harvesting.”

They continued forward, Cas with the biggest smile on his face Dean had ever seen. If this is what it took to make Cas look like that, he’d drive them to Utah every weekend. Dean had to admit, honeybees were pretty cool. He could appreciate their loyalty to the hive, always working to support one another unconditionally.

By the end of the tour, Cas was waxing poetic to Sam about the efficiency of hexagonal honeycombs and Sam was attempting to keep up with the conversation. With Cas distracted, Dean snuck off to the gift shop to make a purchase. He came back with a pair of socks with cartoon bumblebees on them, which Castiel was so delighted to receive that he kissed Dean in front of Sam, Jack, and their tour guide. Dean didn’t mind.

***

It took them much longer than anticipated to reach California, but Dean didn’t mind. It just meant he had more time to hold Cas’ hand across the front bench of the Impala. Soon enough, they finally reached the ocean. Dean drove onto the beach, the tires leaving indentations in the sand behind them. The sun was setting quickly, so they needed to move quickly to set up camp. Having realized this, Dean moved quickly to remove their items from the back of the car. Before he could, though, Cas grabbed his hand and pulled Dean toward him, their chests resting together. “Come with me.”

Dean nodded, and Cas pulled him toward the water. Cas pulled his shoes and socks off, and Dean followed suit, pressing their toes into the sand. Dean reached for Cas’ hand again, and Cas complied, interlocking their fingers. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching as the water ebbed and flowed and crashed. Cas broke the silence after some time, murmuring, “Are you happy, Dean?”

Dean paused for a moment to look over at Cas, who was still staring out at the sea. Releasing Cas’ hand, Dean gripped his elbow to turn the angel’s body to face his own. Dean’s other hand reached up to softly brush some of Cas’ hair off of his forehead. Eventually settling on Cas’ jaw, Dean pulled Cas’ gaze from the water to finally look at him. “I know I’m not great at showing you how much I care, but I do. Care, I mean. I have never been this happy before. You. Me. Sam and Jack. That’s all I need. I’ll spend every day trying to prove it to you if that’s what it takes. I love you, Cas.”

Cas pulled back like he had been shocked. Oh, shit. They’ve never said that before.

“You love me?” Cas was looking at Dean like he hung the damn moon. Dean opened and shut his jaw a few times, trying and failing to make words come out of his mouth

Both of Cas’ thumbs softly caressed Cas’ face and Cas brought their lips together. The kiss wasn’t what Dean would describe as aggressive, like it usually was with them; it was slower and sweeter. Like they loved each other. Cas pulled back an inch, his lips still ghosting on Dean’s. “I love you, too.”

Dean reached up to his own face to place his hands over Cas’ and rested their foreheads together. They both started giggling uncontrollably. “You love me,” Dean said, looking into those beautiful blue eyes.

“I do. So much more than I could ever put into words.”

A loud noise pulled Dean out of his Cas-induced reverie, and he looked up the beach to see Jack struggling to finish putting together a tent.

“We should get back and help,” Cas said, hiding a smile. Dean rolled his eyes but pulled Cas by his hands toward Sam and Jack’s makeshift campsite.

“While you two were having a moment, Jack and I finished getting the tents set up, so you both are responsible for cooking dinner.”

Dean groaned, but was secretly happy to take care of dinner, as long as he got to do it with Cas. While Cas started unpacking their food, Dean reached for the cooler. He grabbed four beers and started handing them out.

Cas immediately saw the fourth beer and said, “You can’t give Jack a beer, Dean. He’s three years old.”

“Hey! I’m three and a half,” Jack said, indignant.

“See? He’s three and a half. It’s fine.”

Cas shook his head, but Dean could tell he was trying not to laugh. “No, Dean.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender but leaned over Jack anyway to sneak the bottle into his hand. If Cas noticed, he chose not to say anything.

Dean looked around for a second, trying to take it all in. Sam and Jack were in the middle of a heated discussion debating the best part of their trip, Sam gesticulating wildly in defense of his museum. Cas was preparing a fire to cook their burgers, the dimming sunlight golden on his concentrated face. Dean could hear the waves crashing on the shore behind them, a sound he never thought he would get to hear and actually appreciate. As he moved to start helping Cas, Dean realized that maybe now they can be happy. They can be at peace. And he couldn’t wait to find out what came next for himself and his little family.

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and vilains

Virgil Anker: a chance at change

Changes can be thrust upon you, or made by choice. Virgil has to make a few though decisions this year.

Virgil’s first day of his sophomore year started as a complete disaster. Over the summer his father had started on a ‘project’ he didn’t want to talk about at home. Which was weird. His dad loved talking about work. It was one of the few things that consistently got him excited. Last night he’d worked late, like really late, and Virgil hadn’t been able to bring himself to even go to his room. Instead he sat on the stairs, staring at the front door until his dad came through. After reading that headline that placed the horrible possibility of his father’s secret in his head he’d stopped searching. He’d bolted out of the library and into the park where he curled up under a tree, hid himself with his powers and proceeded to panic for what he later found out was a good hour. He’d always been a worrier and this discovery gave him so much to worry about. What if his father was Brain Storm? What if he was still a bad guy? What if he wasn’t but someone from his past was blackmailing him? What if he’d lose him when people found out? What if this project was something dangerous and something bad had happened? When his dad came home Virgil did something he hadn’t done since he was ten. He jumped into his father’s arms and hugged him tight. The panic he’d been keeping at bay all night rushing over him all at once. It took his dad a while to calm him down. Then he’d put him to bed with the promise of a serious talk after school. Then, of course, Virgil had overslept. His dad always left very early and usually Virgil was very punctual. But today he got up way too late and had to rush out the door. He barely took the time to shower, not even waiting for the water to get warm or to dry his hair properly. For breakfast he shoved a piece of bread in his mouth after which he rushed to the bus stop praying he’d still magically make it to the last buss that would get him to school on time. He had no such luck. When he finally arrived at school he rushed to get his late slip and thanked the heavens that the secretary seemed to feel enough pity for his sorry state to spare him a lecture and just gave him his schedule and told him the quickest way to his first class. “I hope you like where you are sitting…” The teacher’s voice faded out as he finally arrived in class. She looked at him, clearly not happy with his late arrival. “Ah, so glad you could join us Mr. Anker,” she greeted with a clipped voice. Virgil did his best to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at him. Maybe he should try and figure out if he could use his cloak in reverse and make himself blind to the presence of other people. He pulled his hood off as he muttered an apology and tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye. The teacher pointed to the back of the class. “Take your seat and spare me your excuses. I was just telling the class that these are your seats for the rest of the year,” she then continued addressing the class. “So I hope you like your neighbor, they are your new lab partner.” Virgil felt dread fill his stomach. Great a lab partner. And he got stuck with whoever was left sitting alone. He followed the teacher’s gesture and soon spotted the only empty seat in the second to last row in the back. He felt all tension leave his body as he saw that on the spot next to it sat none other than Roman Castile. Maybe today wouldn’t suck as much as he thought it would. The theater kid gave him a playful smirk and a wave. Virgil smiled back and sat down with a relieved sigh. “Man, talk about a lucky break.” “I agree,” Roman grinned. Before Virgil could say anything else, like ‘hi, how was your summer?’, the teacher started class and she was clearly not someone Virgil wanted to get upset at him. Soon they were given their first experiment. He and Roman were laughing, cracking jokes and throwing out nicknames and mild jabs the entire time and still finished early. Virgil couldn’t help the fluttering in his stomach. Roman was cute when he was having a good time. He was so gay for this guy. Trying to look like he was perfectly comfortable with his lack of sleep, breakfast and zero minutes spent with so much as a brush, he leaned back in his chair and looked at Roman curiously. “So how did you end up sitting alone in the back, princey?” There was no way Roman voluntarily hid so far out of sight from everyone else and so far from his usual friend seated in the front row. Roman looked a little awkward at the nickname. “Princey?” he repeated. Virgil rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh come on, you are clearly destined to be prom king senior year. And every king is a prince first,” he teased. Surely he knew that he was the most popular guy of their year? “Fair enough,” Roman allowed with a brief gesture of surrender. “I was last to arrive,” he explained with a shrug. “Simple as that. I didn’t sleep well last night and didn’t get up until my mother kicked me out of bed. She was busy with an order or she would’ve noticed sooner and dad was at the office, so he couldn’t drag me to the breakfast table either.” He made a gesture that seemed to say ‘what can you do?’ “You?” he asked. Virgil couldn’t help but make a face as he thought about the horrible morning he’d had. “Until an hour ago I was convinced the universe just hated me today, let’s leave it at that.” Roman chuckled, but not in a mean way. Then he got this look that Virgil knew meant he was about to be dramatic. “Ah, fate does work in mysterious ways my friend. It must have willed us to team up for this treacherous quest.” ‘How is he this much of a dork? And why do I like that about him?’ Virgil wondered as he laughed at his lab partner’s antics. He just couldn’t help it. Roman just had that effect on him. “Only you can pull of talking like a Shakespeare character,” he told his classmate. A playful light flickered in Roman’s eyes at that. “Well, only you can pull off dressing like a dark knight and still looking like a lost kitten,” he shot back. Virgil forced himself not to show how flustered he felt at being compared to a kitten. Did that mean Roman thought he was cute? And knight? That was a good thing right? Still, he had some kind of reputation he had to uphold. So he gave Roman a playful shove. “You take that back! I am dark and mysterious and intimidating!” Roman didn’t look like he was going to take it back. He looked like he took his protest as a challenge. But then Virgil saw a wad of paper hit his neighbor in the head and Roman’s mood immediately turned sour. Virgil was not far behind. There was only one person he could think of who would provoke the coolest kid in their year like that. Couldn’t Jan let him enjoy himself without him for five minutes? “What gives Bullard?” Roman hissed as they turned around. Virgil hated to see the look on his oldest friend’s face, the sneer, the jealousy. Because it was definitely jealousy that had Janus so worked up about Roman. “You take Smellington next time,” the boy next to Janus flinched in his seat and shot Virgil a pleading look. He recognized him. Virgil had stood up for him to upper classmen several times in the past. “Virgil is sitting with me.” That made Virgil mad like never before. He couldn’t just make decisions about his life like that! “Excuse me?” Roman seethed. “His name is Carlton.” “And you don’t get to say where I sit J,” Virgil added barely keeping his voice down. “I’m fine sitting with Roman. Besides you heard the teacher. No switching seats.” And once again Virgil found himself grateful for something that at first seemed like a bad thing. The teacher might have half a mind to give Virgil detention the second he gave her an excuse, but she also won’t let Janus have his way. Janus was a smooth talker and it got him out of trouble all the time. How Virgil didn’t know for sure, but he was almost certain it wouldn’t work this time around. “We always sit together!” Janus protests, there is a little bit of hurt hidden behind his indignation, but Virgil won’t let it get to him. Not this time. “Exactly. The world won’t end because I’m Roman’s lab partner J.” Really why can’t he have one hour to spend with someone else? “Am I interrupting?” Virgil heard a cold voice from behind him causing him, and the other three students to freeze in shock and turn to face the teacher. She was directing her eyes at Janus. Virgil was right, his friend’s usual tricks would not work this time. “Mr. Bullard, I don’t have you and Mr. Jonson’s assignment yet, which means you can’t be talking with anyone else besides each other right now,” she informed him in a dangerous tone. Two tardy students was clearly already more than she wanted to put up with on the first day of class. Virgil looked back at his friend and watched as Janus gave her his trademark ‘persuasive look’ his voice becoming honey like. Virgil had watched this get him extensions on projects, a better grade on those he had turned in… It was weird, and Virgil almost thought it might be a gift, but Janus would tell him, if no one else. Not to mention it didn’t always work. A gift should be more consistently successful shouldn’t it? “Ma’am, I can’t work with him. Virgil and I never had a problem in projects, can’t we…” “No.” The statement was firm and final and Virgil tried not to show how relieved he felt. “I put Mr. Jonson next to you because you are much too dependent on Mr. Anker’s presence. You won’t always be able to hide behind him Mr. Bullard. You better learn that now. And if I see any more problems here then all that’ll change is that Mr. Castille and Mr. Anker will be moved to the front of the class so you can’t distract them anymore. Is that understood?” Virgil was a bit surprised to hear all this. It seemed like the teacher had forced Janus to let Carlton sit next to him before Virgil or Roman arrived. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with her statement, but he wasn’t going to argue with the result. Virgil shot Carlton a reassuring smile, he’d make sure Janus would behave himself. There was no need for any fallout to affect him.

The teacher left and both he and Roman turned back around in their seats. “Sorry about that.” Virgil had no clue what possessed Roman to say that, but he was not having it. “I should be apologizing. He’s my friend and he was bothering you.” Possibly not for the first time. Why had Roman never mentioned it? “Yeah, but I did something to piss him off… Don’t know what, but he hates me. And if you were my best friend and some dude I hated was being all charming with you, I wouldn’t like it either.” Virgil laughed in relief. He was glad Roman seemed to understand what had Janus so worked up. And while he’d love to protest the ‘he hates me’ bit, he couldn’t. So he focused on getting back to teasing each other and enjoying themselves. “Charming huh? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself.” His jab had the desired effect. All conflict and worry left Roman’s face and he returned to his dramatic self. “Oh, my knight, why must you hurt me so?” Virgil laughed and allowed himself to enjoy the way being called his knight made his heart flutter. “Thanks… I needed that. J isn’t so bad, but he can be…” Virgil bit his lip, unsure what to say. “Yeah, not your fault,” Roman assured him before perking up. “Hey, why don’t you two come sit with us over lunch? Maybe if he feels included, he’ll calm down?” he suggested. Virgil’s eyes widened. That would actually be kind of amazing! Half of Janus’ thing was that he thought they were on the ‘outcast’ side of school hierarchy. If they both got into the ‘cool’ group then he could relax and go back to being the Janus Virgil would gladly do anything for. “You sure?” he asked hopefully. “Of course. My friends all think you are cool and they’ll think Janus is cool too, once he gives them a chance.” Virgil really wanted to accept, but a voice in the back of his head pointed out that this was too good to be true. What if Janus was right and he was unknowingly walking them both in a trap where Janus would end up feeling hurt and betrayed and never want to talk to Virgil again, leaving him with a choice between being all alone or following Roman around like a lovesick puppy for the rest of high school? Another, more rational voice pointed out that Roman had never exhibited any behavior that suggested he’d do that. That voice sounded a lot like his dad, and his dad usually made more sense than the bad voice. Still, why would Roman offer to put up with Janus? “You don’t like him. How do you know they will?” “I don’t like how he talks to me,” Roman admitted. Well, that was only fair. Virgil wasn’t very fond of the way Janus talked to people in general the past year either. “But he’s your friend, so how bad can he be?” His endorsement was that valuable? And had Roman mentioned that his other cool friends thought Virgil was cool too? When did that happen? Maybe, maybe sophomore year could be a new start. “Okay, I’ll suggest it.”

He should’ve known better. “Absolutely not!” Janus had huffed. “Jan, it’s just lunch. If it’s not fun then we can bail on them any time. You are the one who’s so obsessed with our spot on the social ladder. What do we have to lose?” Janus rolled his eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand this Virgil. But the offer wasn’t for us. Roman wants something from you. And he’ll have his friends be nice to me around you to get it.” “I know I’m not exactly mister sunshine, but that’s overly dramatic and pessimistic. Roman is cool. Like genuinely. And if you gave him a chance…” “Oh please Virgil! You are not this naïve! Why do you want his friendship so badly that you blind yourself like this? He can have anything from anyone he wants! Why would he want to be around some awkward outcasts? Except to make himself look good? What end does that serve? Everything anyone ever does serves some selfish end Virgil. Even the most noble of deeds are ultimately out of desire to be seen as good.” “Except for you of course, you only have my best interest at heart!?” Virgil pointed out. Janus hesitated and then he leaned in, too close for Virgil’s comfort, and he spoke in that tone. “You are my only friend Virgil. Of course I want to protect you, even from yourself. Don’t let Roman’s flowery words and cute pet names get to you.” Virgil tried not to flinch. Did Janus know? No, he couldn’t know. Still, Virgil had to remember that he could hear everything he and Roman said to each other. “I give him a week before he gets bored of you. And I don’t want to see you hurt by that.” And Virgil believed him. So he followed Janus to an empty table in the cafeteria. He saw Roman perk up, smile and wave when he spotted them. And he wanted so badly to just turn to him and go sit with Roman, Janus could either join or eat alone if that made him happy. But he didn’t. He smiled apologetically and shrugged, indicating he tried. The way Roman’s face fell in disappointment made his heart break just a little. He was mad at himself for being so weak. The rest of the day he sulked, not talking to Janus at all, not that his friend seemed to care. He apparently was of the opinion that Virgil would come around soon enough. Virgil wasn’t so sure. The sadness and anger he felt about the whole thing didn’t seem to go away like it usually did.

And then there was the talk with his father. “Home!” he called out as he tossed his keys over the hook at the door. “Kitchen!” his dad called back sounding tense. Virgil took a deep breath and joined his father at the kitchen table, gratefully accepting the cup of tea. “Virgil, I want you to know that you are not in trouble. I am not mad or upset with you in any way. Alright?” Clearly he wasn’t as good at hiding his nerves as he’d hoped. He nodded. “Last night… Was that the first time you went through something like that?” Virgil looked down. He knew he had to be honest with his dad right now… But it wasn’t an easy thing to admit. “No… Sometimes I just think too much and I worry and then I freak out and… It always passes, but it’s…” He feels tears spring up in his eyes. He feels so stupid. Who freaks out over some stupid thoughts? Not his dad. He’s rational and calm and in control. “Frightening I’m sure.” Virgil looked up in surprise at his father’s understanding tone. “Virgil,” he began as he pushed a piece of paper and a pen towards him. “I have a list for you, I’d like you to read over it and indicate next to each item how often you experience them on a monthly basis. It’s important to me that you are honest. I have a suspicion of what may be causing this, but I get that talking about it might be hard for you. Therefor I provided you with this as a way to boil it down to simple facts. Can you do this for me?” Virgil nodded and accepted the paper and pen. He started reading and writing. He tried not to think too much about how bad it was that there were so many things he experienced at least once a week if not several times a day. When he finished, he almost didn’t want to return it to his dad. Would he be disappointed? “It’s alright Virgil. I know I’m not always, good, at expressing my emotions, but I do love you. More than I expected to when I first agreed to take care of you. Nothing could prepare me for how much I love you and how proud I am to call you my son. Whatever you wrote down, won’t change that.” Virgil took in a deep breath and shoved the paper forward. There it was gone. Silence lingered for a moment as his father read the paper and nodded to himself. “I’m sorry you’ve been struggling with this on your own Virgil. Can I ask for how long?” Virgil frowned and thought about that. “Um… start of last school year? I didn’t notice it was bad until shortly after Christmas though. I was in the park and started freaking out. After that I was more aware of it I guess,” he explained. His father simply nodded. “Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me this?” he asked worriedly. Because the first time I freaked out it was because I thought you might be a former super villain and I didn’t know how to even begin explaining that. “I… I wanted to… but then I started freaking out about freaking you out and…” he forced himself to take a slow breath and a sip of his tea. “I just figured I could deal.” Logan nodded thoughtfully. “Virgil, I think you might suffer from heightened levels of anxiety. That doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. I would like for you to talk to someone about it though. If only to help you figure out a way to handle these attacks and the thoughts that come with this better so it doesn’t have to interfere too much with your life. Does that sound agreeable?” “A shrink?” Virgil asked nervously. His dad nodded. “I know there is a stigma against it… But my psychiatrist has helped me a great deal with your mother’s death. I hope he, or one of his colleagues can help you with your anxiety.” This came as a surprise. “You… you went to therapy?” He always seemed to be so in control of his life though. “Still do from time to time,” his dad nods simply. Virgil thinks about it for a moment. Well, it couldn’t hurt to see what whoever this doctor was had to say right? If he has his dad’s approval… “Okay… just… can this stay between you and me?” he pleaded. He wasn’t sure how Janus would respond to him having anxiety. Knowing him he’d probably become even more protective and he didn’t need that in his life. His dad nodded in understanding. “If that makes you more comfortable.” “Thanks,” Virgil smiled. Then he finished his tea and excused himself to make homework. His dad got him a first appointment for the start of October.

Things didn’t change much for him in that time honestly. Roman grabbed every opportunity to talk to Virgil and tried to coax him into conversation. And he would love to just throw caution to the wind and enjoy the hour they shared as well as the stolen moments where they ‘ran into each other’ or where they defended the same kid. But, he just couldn’t do it. The doctor was a unique individual. Virgil wasn’t sure how well they’d get along at first. “Now, Virgil, I can call you Virgil right?” Picani asked kindly. He was nice, but also… extra. Even Roman might think he was a bit too intense. “Sure,” he mumbled in response, toeing of his shoes and curling up in a ball on the couch. He didn’t miss the fact that Picani took note of that. “Well, I’ve heard why your father thinks you should be here, but what I’d like to know, Virgil, is why you want to be here. Are you just looking for some medication, some breathing techniques or are there some things you actually want to talk about?” Virgil looked at the doctor long and hard to see what his angle was. He couldn’t find one. And it was a good question. What was he doing here if there was so much he couldn’t share? He shrugged. “Not sure… I know my dad wants to help. But…” Picani made a dismissive gesture. “Your father isn’t my patient right now. You should only come here if it’s something you want. Your dad will just have to learn from Jazz Fenton’s example,” Picani smirked. Virgil chuckled. “Well, he’s a lot like her, he just might.” “Oh?” Picani’s eyes lit up. Virgil didn’t know this but it wasn’t often that his patients saw the show he was referencing and indulged in the analogy. “You know, not as serious as he likes to believe he is. Well-meaning and levelheaded most of the time… supportive of his loved ones… but he could maybe be a bit more accepting and patient I guess.” “I was indeed getting at the patient part. Jazz did a great job waiting for her brother to be ready to ask her for help and offered him aid from the sidelines. Protecting him from their parents’ antics in the process.” “But she still thought she knew better than him and while she accepted his powers she didn’t get him until they actually sat down and talked,” Virgil countered. Picani cocked his head curiously. “I mean… I’m bi, and my dad is very accepting of that. And he tries to encourage me when I do art, even if he doesn’t really get it. But… I feel like he expects me to tell him everything, but he’s hiding so much… this is between you and me right?” He was pretty sure that was a rule, but he preferred to check. “Until you give me the ok, your secrets are locked up in here,” the doctor tapped his head and then his notebook, “Safer than in a secret vault.” Virgil smirked. “Figured you’d be a potterhead too. Huffelpuf I assume?”Picani nodded proudly. “But we’re getting of track. You were saying?” Virgil sighed once more. “Right. You probably know that I’m adopted?” he verified. “That was in your paperwork, but I wasn’t going to bring it up unprompted,” the doctor acknowledged calmly. “Well… I’ve come to terms with that, really, I’m not ashamed or anything. But I know nothing about my birth parents. I ask about them, and Lo… dad,” he hates it, but sometimes his father’s surname slips into his mind, especially when he thinks about his birthparents. Never in front of him, but still, he finds himself thinking it more and more often. And he feel really bad about it. “You can address him however you’re comfortable Virgil. I won’t say a word.” Virgil nodded. “Logan won’t tell me anything. I don’t have any pictures or their names and I know he knew them. I want to understand that it’s hard for him for whatever reason. But I want to know where I come from.” Picani nodded calmly. “And this secrecy… could that be what brings out some of the anxiety you’ve been experiencing?” Virgil nodded. “It’s not the only thing though,” he admitted and before he knew it, he told Picani all about how things had changed between him and Janus and the feelings he was developing for Roman who was completely out of his league. Picani was understanding and careful about how he addressed the Janus situation. He did encourage him to accept Roman’s attempts to reach out to him.

Virgil agreed to make another appointment with the doctor and he really wanted to make an effort with Roman. But he was much too scared of being rejected when Roman inevitably found out he had a crush on him. Picani wasn’t frustrated with him when he admitted he’d chickened out, much to Virgil’s relief. Instead they talked about how the coping tools he’d recommended were working out and then they talked about the fun things he’d experienced that year. “Hold on, you described yourself and Janus as outcasts. But you just said that Roman, the main character of your year, as you described it, thinks you,” he pointed at Virgil with his pen, “are cool. I normally advice against this, but maybe you should pay more attention to the rumor mill in school Virgil, and see if Janus’ view of you two might be different from that of everyone else.”

It was an interesting thought. And Virgil did just that. Over the next week he eavesdropped on conversations where he heard his name drop. And what he heard, boosted his confidence to say the least. People called him brave, and attractive, smart and mysterious. They were hyping each other up to ask him out. Some were questioning why he was wasting his time with someone as ‘sketchy’ as Janus. “Doesn’t he know what that guy is like?” “Wouldn’t surprise me. That snake seems like the type to strangle a kitten with one hand while offering Anker some chocolate with the other.” He didn’t really like that bit. But the rest was pretty good.

Then there was his meeting with Patton Bonnaire. He’d left his third appointment with Dr Picani and decided to catch a ride home with his dad, considering he would be done soon. He was working on his mysterious ‘project’ over the weekend. The university wasn’t far from Picani’s office. Virgil told the receptionist who he was and sat down to mess around a bit on his phone while he waited. “Hello?” Virgil looked up to find a man his father’s age looking at him with a curious smile. He was dressed funny. Light blue cardigan and a grey sweater tied around his neck. Like some sitcom version of a suburban gay dad character. He looked very nice though. Wide bespectacled blue eyes and freckles all over his cheeks. “Um… hi,” Virgil greeted as he got up and offered his hand. “Virgil Anker, I’m waiting for my dad,” he explained. Seeing a random teen at the university on a Saturday afternoon would be rather surprising. “Oh my goodness! You are Logie’s son!” Logie? Virgil felt a smile fight to break free. This was going to be good. “Um… Logan Anker is my dad yeah… he told you about me?” he asked politely. “Oh, you’re the only way anyone can get him to talk about anything other than work. I know all about you, but I still don’t know what kind of cookies to bake for his birthday,” the man pouted. No, that’s not fair! Virgil didn’t know how to deal with disappointed faces like that! Well, considering his dad had told this man all about him already, it was probably fine to tell him this little thing about Logan. “Anything with Crofters Jam and you are his hero,” Virgil divulged, with a mildly devilish smirk, imagining the look on his father’s face when he suddenly received treats with his favorite guilty pleasure. How the man pulled it off, Virgil didn’t know, but he could swear the man’s eyes sparkled. He grabbed his hand in both of his and started jumping up and down excitedly. “Oh kiddo! Thank you so much! My name’s Patton! I teach moral philosophy. I love your cool jacket, and you did your make-up so well!” Then he lifted his sweater sleeve to reveal a heart shaped emblem on the cuff. The heart wore glasses and brandished the pan colors. Patton winked indicating he picked up on Virgil’s color scheme. Virgil smiled. “Thanks, I made it myself,” he informed him. “Wow! Such a talented kid! No wonder your dad is so proud of you!” Patton gasped in awe. Virgil blushed. “I’m alright,” he said dismissively, not very used to that type of praise from an adult. Patton reminded him a little of Roman. “Now, don’t say it like that. The design is good and you’ve sown it so well! Did you teach yourself?” Virgil nodded. “Well that’s amazing. I’m not surprised though. Whit a dad as clever as Logie.” Virgil is so going to tease his dad with that nickname. And maybe set these two up. At least if he isn’t the mysterious ‘project’. Was this dad’s way to hide that he’s trying to date? Patton was clearly interested. Ew… why does he even have to think about this? Scratch that. He knows why, he’s the only wingman his dad has. Technically there is uncle Thomas, his dad’s old college friend, but last time he’d tried to set Logan up, they’d ended up not talking for a month for some reason. As far as Virgil knew he hadn’t dated anyone since he adopted Virgil. The man needed to get out of his office. “For how long have you known my dad?” he asked curiously. “Oh we both started here around the same time. He won’t admit it, but I think I’ve… Crofted my way into his heart.” Virgil, not used to dad jokes, couldn’t help a chuckle. “Oh, you are so precious! Can I keep you?” Patton pleaded, only half joking if Virgil read him right. “Ask my dad out and maybe I’ll end up calling you papton.” That was terrible but Patton seemed to love it anyway. Then the rest of the sentence seemed to register and he blushed. “Um, wait no. I mean…” he sighed and chuckled awkwardly. “I’m that obvious?” “Only a neon sign with ‘date me Dr. Anker’ would be more obvious. And in my dad’s case, you might need that. He’s a bit dense when it comes to matters of the heart. I don’t think he’d notice if you had his all pitter Patton.” This gets him another bout of laughter. “You shouldn’t sell your old man short though kiddo,” Patton manages a few moments later. “He was a tad stiff in the beginning. But recently he’s quite lit, I believe the word is?” Virgil froze when he saw Patton dig through his messenger bag and retrieve copies of familiar cards. “He let you copy his flashcards?” he asked in surprise. “Oh, yes. I walked in one day to borrow a marker and heard him say ‘cobi’? He was tossing something in the trash and the class applauded. So I asked his secret and he showed me his cards. I asked if I could borrow them and…” Patton couldn’t finish his story because Virgil had lost the battle with his composure. He was laughing. Tears streaming down his face and clutching his stomach, barely keeping upright. “He actually said… god, I didn’t expect…” he wheezed.

“Virgil!” At the sound of his dad’s distressed voice he looked up and struggled to signal that it was alright. “Virgil if you can hear me squeeze my hand.” Oh no, dad thinks I’m having an attack. “Fine, fine,” he managed as he squeezed the hand that held his. “Just, can’t… Oh my god, hilarious,” he wheezed. “Virgil, are you having an attack?” He shook his head impatiently and tried the breathing exercise Picani recommended. It worked, surprisingly. Pretty soon he whipped at his eyes though he would have to wash his face in the restroom unless he wanted to look like a horror movie monster. He looked up at the two men in front of him. Patton was absolutely smitten. Seeing his dad in protective parent mode clearly didn’t turn him away. Quite the opposite. “You are using the vocab cards,” he explained. “Of course they were a gift from you, why wouldn’t I use them at any opportunity?” Patton clasped his hands in front of his mouth to stifle a squeal. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you were complaining about not understanding some of the things your students were saying. I didn’t expect you to actually start yeeting your trash.” And then his dad readjusted his glasses, looked him dead in the eye and said: “Yeet is for distance. For trash I need accuracy, therefore the term used is ‘cobi’.” Virgil lost it again. His dad just… Gods he can’t wait to tell Roman… Wait, since when was Roman the first person he thought about to tell stuff like this. They weren’t even really talking right now. But telling Janus felt… when was the last time he and J had a proper conversation? Before summer? Yeah some time before art week. These thoughts brought down his mood enough to get him to stop laughing. Picani might not be entirely wrong to suggest that the friendship was in serious danger of becoming toxic. Though he didn’t use the label, Virgil could read between the lines. “Anyway, great meeting you Patton. It’s good to know dad has someone so nice looking out for him.” Then he turned to his dad. “You should invite him over for dinner some time. He’s a lot of fun.” Patton’s face became beet red, but more importantly his dad was getting flushed as well. “Well, you two talk about that, I’m going to wash my face,” he stated as he marched away, feeling rather good about himself. He always felt better about everything after a visit to doctor Picani. In the morning doubts and worries would return in full force. But right now, he was feeling good. When he returned he saw his dad standing alone, staring off in the distance. “Dad?”

“Dr. Bonnaire asked me on a date,” Logan breathed. “I think you can call him by his first name if that’s the case,” Virgil grinned. “I… I suppose…” His dad was in shock… wow. “You did say yes right?” Virgil clarified. “I… yes, I don’t know what came over me… I’ve never…” “Wait… you’ve never been on a date?” God the man who had the talk with him had never been on a date. “Not like this!” Logan exclaimed with a wild gesture, surprising Virgil. If he raised his voice this has to really be bothering him. “Last time, I was an arrogant college student who felt like he had to answer to no one but himself. Now, I am a single father, going out with a coworker. This is an adult outing. I can’t just…” Virgil smiled sympathetically and patted his father on the shoulder. “You really like this guy huh?” Logan sighed and nodded with a blush. “He’s so patient and friendly and… I just never thought he could ever…” “Now stop it right there. Me turning out like a somewhat stable person, proofs you are awesome. And you just showed him all the reasons why he should date you while taking care of me. You’re welcome by the way. Patton is cool. He’s already met your kid and passed the test. The scariest bit is over.” Suddenly his dad turned towards him and grabbed his shoulders. “You’re really fine with me going out with him? With me possibly entering a romantic relationship?” Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I’m not a fan of the change, but I want you to be happy. And if Patton is your pick… I wouldn’t have suggested he come over for dinner if I didn’t like him.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but the gesture lost some edge when his father hugged him. “I am fortunate to have you as a son.” Virgil shoved him away, blushing awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever Logie,” he huffed getting a flustered stammering as a reward. “Let’s go home,” he suggested with a smirk before heading to the parking lot. The date was planned for the next weekend, after Halloween. And for Virgil it was a Halloween to remember.

He really wanted to go all out, Halloween was his favorite day of the year. But he didn’t want to ruin his costume or get Janus on his case. So, for school, he went with the bare minimum vampire costume, leaving his more elaborate creation for the trick or treaters to enjoy. He was texting his dad, who was still nervous about his date, and waiting for class to start when his day went from okay to awesome. “Greetings peasants!” the booming voice sounded warm and teasing and drew all eyes to the dark prince who’d just entered. Roman stalked trough he class, ‘scaring’ everyone with grand gestures with his arms and even drawing a fake sword threateningly. Making promises of never ending suffering upon the land. Virgil texted his dad that he’d talk to him later and to focus on his classes for now. Eventually Roman pulled back his chair and climbed on it, planting one of his feet firmly on their desk and raising his sword to the sky. “I! Prince Roman of the damned marshes declare war on all that is good and pure!” he bellowed. Virgil leaned back and enjoyed his front row seat. “And you,” he held out a hand to Virgil as if offering to pull him to stand at his side. “my coldhearted friend, may rule at my side!” he announced dramatically. Virgil felt a rush of adrenaline. Roman had effectively pulled him into his improvisation and Virgil didn’t feel like backing out of this challenge. Even if it involved having all eyes on him. “Is that a fact?” he chuckled amused, but otherwise uninterested. He had to be in character after all. And he didn’t look like a vampire bent on world domination. “Of course!” Roman’s delight at his participation settled warmly in his stomach. “You, dear count, are the only other of noble lineage! No one else is worthy of a throne!” Virgil did his best ‘whiny teen’ voice for his reply. “But ruling sounds like a lot of work.” To his surprise this got him a round of laughter, the good kind. People found him funny. “Then you may feast on my enemies!” Roman offered, not missing a beat. Now they were talking. But just then class started. Roman sat down next to him and shot him a hesitant smile when their eyes met while they got their books ready. Virgil felt kind of bad. Roman must’ve been wondering what he did wrong to go from ‘almost friends’ to ‘barely get two words that are not about class’. He returned the smile warmly, making sure that he knew that he was back. Janus criticized the whole endeavor of course, but Virgil didn’t really care anymore. “Roman and I are lab partners, and we’re going to talk. And sometimes we’re going to have fun doing so. You have zero right to tell me who I can and can’t spend time with. I’m not your pet.” That shut Janus up. Perhaps he finally realized that he was acting the way he’d always said Roman would if Virgil gave him the time of day.

Virgil sat alone during Spanish, Janus had an exemption for his language elective because he was already proven fluent in both offered languages. Virgil had no clue what Jan did with the free hour, and he didn’t really care. “Hey, Virgil?” Virgil looked up and saw that some guy from Roman’s usual group had paused at his desk. He was dressed like a crazy professor. “Hi?” he greeted, not sure what had brought this on. The other boy grinned and offered his hand. “I’m André. I’m friends with…” suddenly he chuckled to himself and changed his posture and voice to fit his character more. “I mean I am a humble servant to Prince Roman. I have heard you have allied yourself with him for the day?” he inquired. Virgil chuckled. “Depending on how it goes the alliance might last past midnight,” he allowed. Then, as if on cue, the doubt started to creep in. “You have a problem with that?” he asked slightly challenging. “No my liege, never!” André assured him. “We have all been eager to meet you. A friend of the prince, after all, is already family to us.” It was exaggerated, but the sentiment was clear. He wasn’t seen as a threat, in fact he was already considered part of the group even if he never hung out with them. Before Virgil could really say anything the class started. André joined him on their way to the cafeteria and asked about how he did his hair and where he got his hoodie. He was halfway asking for a commissioned jacket when they entered the cafeteria and Virgil was pulled towards a table in the middle by an excited Roman. “At last there you are. It’s time to introduce these cryptids to their new rulers!” Virgil looked up at Roman who gave him a questioning look. He could decline, return to his little bubble of anonymity and pretend this never happened. But… Maybe, hiding away all his life wasn’t how he wanted to live it? So, why not? No hiding today. Or not unless he really had to. “With pleasure Princey,” he grinned, feeling satisfaction in being the cause of Roman’s delight once more. He did that. It was worth whatever Jan threw at him later.

They spent about ten minutes on improv and Roman managed to make Virgil forget about the audience completely. And when he, regretfully, left Roman to sit with Janus he could hear the whispers. But no one was laughing at him. There were so many looks of awe and admiration, it couldn’t not give him a little ego boost. “Talk about putting yourself on blast! What were you thinking?” Janus seethed. “Yolo,” Virgil shrugged, grinning as he imagined his dad saying it. “No one says that anymore,” Janus reprimanded. “It’s what I was thinking,” Virgil shrugged. Already planning his next act of defiance. He felt kind of bad taking advantage of his dad’s first date nerves and his worry for him, but if this was his teen rebel phase then there were worse things he could be doing while his dad was out of the house. “Are you sure…” “Yes! Just have a nice time. Text when you arrive at the restaurant and when you leave. I don’t have school tomorrow so don’t hurry home,” Virgil assured his dad. “Pat, steal his phone if he checks it even once during dinner,” he then instructed his dad’s date. “I will,” Patton winked. “Good, you crazy kids have fun and don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to do,” he grinned teasingly. “Virgil!” his father chastised. “Love you too!” he shouted as he shut the door in his father’s face. Then he rushed upstairs and took out the vampire cape he’d worn for the trick or treaters this year. He then put on a black long sleeved shirt, black jeans and black converses and a cheap black zoro mask. He wasn’t planning on being seen tonight but if he was, he’d rather not be recognizable… and maybe the cape was more for dramatic flair. Roman’s antics had been kind of fun and he wanted to try it out for himself. No one was going to see it anyway. And if he liked it he might make himself a proper costume for future outings. He walked through some sketchy streets until he found what looked like a gang waiting for a victim. They didn’t see him thanks to his cloak and he hid himself in the shadows not too far from them. He took a deep breath and willed them to forget about their surroundings and instead focus on each other. It was easy when people were either not the sharpest mind or not really paying attention. He’d only gotten past his dad that one time because he’d moved in absolute silence. And that trick had taken a lot of energy. His peers in the hallways were easy because most weren’t even watching where they were going let alone trying to see where he was. This was a large group, but they were kind of preoccupied with their conversation and not very smart. So it was easy making them ignore the hand full of lost people that passed them by in a hurry that night. A buzzing in his pocket caught his attention. He checked who it was. Janus. That could wait. He wondered what other ways he could use his cloak for the greater good. Another buzz in his pocket. He checked. His dad. “Paying now, home in ten minutes.” That was his cue to go home. He’d only seen three would be victims, but those were three people who got home safe to their families and might not have otherwise. That was something. He knew that to him, one person coming home or not was everything. So feeling satisfied with his first attempt at true heroism he moved through the streets and hurried home. He just managed to hide his mask and hang away his cloak before he heard the front door. He threw on his headphones and put on some music while he sat himself on his bed. Hoping he’d look like he’d been distracting himself with music. Maybe it would be better if he wore more casual street clothes next time. There was a knock on the door and he pulled off his headphones. “Come in!” he called. His dad poked his head inside and let out a sigh of relief when he found him on the bed, not having a panic attack. “You should be asleep,” he pointed out gently. “I wanted to make sure I could tell you good night. How was it?” The soft look on his father’s face said it all. “I will brief you in the morning. Now you should get adequate rest. Sleep deprivation is detrimental to both your physical health and creativity.” Virgil thought it was kind of funny how his dad had started to use his artistic ambitions as motivation to take care of himself lately. “Okay, night dad,” he muttered in surrender as he got up to get ready for bed. “Night Virgil… I love you.” Virgil smiled. Dad was never one for saying the words. But ever since the start of this year he seemed to be making an effort to change that. It was nice. Virgil had always known, but hearing it meant more than he’d expected it would. “Love you too dad,” he told him, once more feeling a little guilty about sneaking out, and for planning on doing more of these dangerous things. But he was sick and tired of playing it safe all the time. He had the ability to protect others. He should use it for more than just some bullies. Science class was a lot more fun now that he and Roman were talking. It wasn’t very personal. They just exchanged witty banter and complained about school stuff. If he confided in Roman, Janus would hear and he didn’t want to upset him even more. Turns out Janus would absolutely bully others. Or well… Pick fights with classmates over little inconveniences. Luckily Roman wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else seemed to be. He even kept it somewhat civil, just staring him down until Janus backed off. Virgil wasn’t as patient. He didn’t like fighting in public like this, but he was just so done with this BS. Every confrontation made him wonder if this friendship was still good for either of them. But just because he was considering doing it didn’t mean he was ready to hear others outright say it. The rumors were one thing. People theorized on why Virgil was still friends with Janus now that he clearly showed his ‘true colors’ to him. All involved Janus being some sort of villainous mastermind and Virgil the tragic hero trying to save everyone at the cost of his own freedom, safety, or whatever. They were ridiculous, but he could deal. What hit him hard was when Roman voiced his concerns. Janus had been goading a senior into a fight, which was beyond weird. Janus knew that he couldn’t take him on. He always stayed far away from the arbitrary lines high school hierarchy drew between different years. Virgil wasn’t alone in breaking up the fight. Roman was talking the senior down while Virgil got Janus to follow him to their next class. The principle heard about the almost fight though and Janus was called out of class halfway through. Roman approached Virgil when they crossed paths on their way to their next classes. Still no Janus in sight. “Are you alright?” he asked worriedly. Virgil nodded as he collected his things from his locker, unsure what to say to Roman on this unfamiliar topic. This felt much more vulnerable than their usual chats. “Listen… I’m probably way out of line, but I don’t think I can handle seeing him use you like this any longer…” he started and Virgil, while he knew that Roman was absolutely right and that he probably should take the help he was offering, switched to survival mode. He didn’t want Roman of all people to see what a mess he really was. So he snapped. “You are right. You are way out of line. You don’t have the full picture and you have as much right to tell me what to do with who as Janus. So back off!” he growled before storming off. He regretted every word before he was even around the corner. That night he worked for hours on an apology. The next day he slipped Roman the note. It basically said that he appreciated the worry, but that he had it handled. Along with an apology for being a rude idiot. Roman tucked the note away and gave him a thumbs up to show it was okay. His dad’s date with Patton went well. Not a day went by where Virgil didn’t hear at least one thing about Patton, good or bad. Apparently his father could get a little frustrated with Patton’s humor and his excitement could be overwhelming at times. But even with all that the man made his dad happy with his warm and understanding nature. They’d only had one fight Virgil knew of, and that was resolved quickly. It was good to see his father be excited . It also made Virgil feel bad to realize he’d been so unhappy all this time because of… “Your father’s choices and issues are his to handle Virgil. It’s not fair of you to put the responsibility of his happiness on you.” Virgil looked up and sat back upright in the couch, folding his legs underneath him and studying his nails. He’d gotten a new galaxy polish the day before. He briefly wondered if Roman would notice. He always seemed to see it when Virgil changed something about himself. He forced himself to return his attention to the conversation at hand. Picani probably had a point. Still… “He’s known Patton for years, and I’m pretty sure they’ve both been interested in each other for a long time… if not for me…” “If not for you he might not have taken the job at the university in the first place. It’s like in The Prince of Egypt. When Mozes found himself in the nomad’s camp he felt unworthy of their kindness. But the priest told him that it wasn’t a single man’s place to judge the worth of his life. You’d have to take a step back and oversee all the people you’ve met and the effects you’ve had on their lives and how that ripples throughout the world around them.” “Wow, a movie. Out of cartoon references?” Virgil teased, choosing to table the doctor’s point to think about later. “I like to broaden my repertoire from time to time,” Picani admitted. “So… Have you told your prince yet?” he queries letting go of the subject in favor of another tough discussion. “I… We are barely friends. I don’t want to push him away like that.” He expected Picani to draw a comparison to Kim Possible or something. But the doctor could surprise him sometimes. “Could it be that your father had similar reasons not to pursue a romantic connection until now? Out of fear of upsetting a status quo he felt comfortable with?” Virgil frowned as he considered that. Maybe, maybe he had a point. His dad was one for schedules and predictability. A new addition to their family dynamic would shake that up. So, maybe his dad had needed a shove in the right direction. Should he… No Roman is straight. Nothing good is going to come from this. “You mentioned that he said he hadn’t expected to care so much for you. Sometimes you don’t know what you want or need until it falls into your lap. Your father didn’t know he wanted a son until he had one. And similarly he might not have known he needed a partner until you shoved him and Dr. Bonnaire together.” That…Well he had a point there, maybe. He also made Virgil feel so relaxed at times that he wanted to open up about  his gift, even if just a little. Just mention that sometimes weird things happened. But he wasn’t sure if being gifted was one of those ‘if you might put yourself or others in danger’ exceptions to doctor patient confidentiality. Being a hero in the shadow’s had downsides though. He wasn’t authorized to make arrests. He didn’t have any kind of professional protection or equipment, and the police didn’t know who he is and to let him do his thing. Virgil had decided how he wanted to change the city though. He would listen in on conversations, record them without risk of being caught. And if those recordings ended up with the police and that lead to actual arrests... well that was almost as good then wasn’t it? He had plans for more daring escapades later. When he got better at healing and hiding. Baby steps. But that rule couldn’t apply to everything. After almost two years of dancing around Janus’ jealousy and his own wishes to make some other friends, the straw that broke the camel’s back came in a startling realization that brought everything crashing down. “Sociology would be a good choice.” Virgil hummed absentmindedly as he chewed on his sandwich and looked over the offered elective classes. The past two years he hadn’t been sure what to take and joined Janus in whatever he picked. But after a full year of hearing Roman encouraging his art, he’d spent a few Friday afternoons in the studio. He’d been surprised at how accommodating and understanding the other artists were. They saw him work with his headphones on and left him alone. No one looked at his art if he didn’t want them to and they didn’t care if he looked at theirs when they displayed it. They even asked him his opinions on their pieces. And rumors about his ‘talent’ had joined the whispers in the hallway he listened in on every now and then. “I was thinking to take an art elective,” he told Janus. “Why?” The question surprised Virgil. “Because I’d like to actually learn some techniques? I dunno. They say to pick something that fits our interests. I’m interested in art,” he explained a little annoyed. “But we can’t do anything with that in college,” Janus pointed out with a roll of his eyes. “I suppose it’s a decent extracurricular,” he allowed before going off in a rant: “though something with sports will be better. College’s eat that stuff up…” Janus kept talking but Virgil didn’t really listen anymore. He just realized something. Jan never stopped talking about decisions he made as if they were for the both of them. Even now he talked as if Virgil would even consider joining the football or debate team with him. Virgil who hated public speaking and would have a panic attack at the thought of football practice alone and all the injuries that could happen. “But… I really want to do art. The new teacher is a pretty awesome artist I’ve been kind of following for a while. This might be my only chance to learn from him,” Virgil pointed out. He really hoped that Jan had just not realized he was talking as if Virgil would follow him wherever he went. “Don’t be dramatic V. It’s not like you can make a career out of drawings.” Virgil thought back to every time Roman had praised him and said he had potential. Wasn’t that how friends were supposed to act? His dad, who had the job of keeping his feet on the ground was more supportive of his interest in art than Janus was being. “It makes me happy,” he muttered feeling hurt and rejected in a weird way. “A career isn’t about what makes you happy, it’s about what gets you ahead in life.” And the tone made it clear that Janus wasn’t going to talk about the subject any more. That was fine with Virgil. He too, had made a decision. The next appointment he sat himself on the edge of the couch and looked at Picani with an intense determination. “I’m ready.”

A hard won victory. 

  Masterpost

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[p-artsypants]

Integrity- Chapter 8

Ao3 | FF.net

Monday morning rolled around with a cool, all encasing fog. The gray mist that settled in between buildings, blotting out sunlight, and casting a refreshing coolness on everything blanketed underneath it.

It was glum.

Ladybug had escorted Gabriel to the police last night, as they had planned. Though he was drunk, Gabriel was well behaved. This allowed Ladybug to convince the Police to stay quiet about his arrest. Of course, it was inevitable that the media would catch wind of it, and it would be all over the news. 

But she just wanted to have a few days to prepare to announce it herself, and to give Adrien some time with his mother. 

He hadn’t come home last night, not that she expected him too. He may be gone for the rest of the week. Maybe longer. She couldn’t blame him for staying away. 

She just missed him already.

“Hey Marinette,” Alya greeted warmly. “Where’s Sunshine? He’s gotta get rid of this fog!” 

“Yeah dude, where’s my dawg?” Said Nino. 

Marinette smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. How much truth could she spare? This was Rena Rouge and Carapace after all. Surely they were trustworthy. Would Adrien mind?

“Um…he’s with his mother.” 

Nino and Alya just stared at her, dawning horror creeping on their faces. 

“He’s dead?”

“No!” Marinette scrambled to explain. “No, no…We found his mother yesterday. Well, he found her a few days ago, but we couldn’t do anything about it until last night.” 

Alya blinked a few times. “Okay girl, you lost me. You often lose me, but this is like—a whole other dimension. Can ya back up a touch?”

“I’ll tell you guys everything after school, but you have to promise me not to tell anyone.” She leaned closer. “This is just as secret, or even more so, as your secret identities.” 

Alya rapidly blinked again. “Wh-what?! What are you—how do you—What!?”

“That’s all I’m saying for now.”

“You can’t just leave us there!” 

“That’s all that’s safe to say here. Just...just trust me. Okay?” 

Alya took a long breath. They’d been through this before. Her trust was constantly being tested by Marinette. The absences, the tardiness, the forgetful ‘oh I have to go water my hamster’ ness. “Girl...I did trust you. But...are you going to finally explain what’s going on?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell you everything. If you’ll just be patient with me.” 

Alya exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay. I think that’s worth it.” 

They travelled together upstairs and into the classroom, where several other students milled about quietly. It seemed they hadn’t recovered from the turmoil from last week. 

Faces turned to her, weak smiles in place. Sincere enough, but lacking luster. She didn’t really blame them. She felt like that too. 

After some time, Miss Bustier arrived, and settled everyone in their seats. 

And then there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in.” 

Miss Bustier invited in the devil, and the mother of the devil. 

Lila. Lila was here. 

“Hello, Madam Rossi, are you vouching for Lila’s tardiness?” 

“On the contrary,” the woman said coldly. “Lila won’t be attending your class anymore, or this school, for that matter. But before we leave, I wanted to make sure she apologized to those she wronged.”

My my, what an interesting turn of fate. Lila stood in front, arms crossed, and full of spite. 

“Where’s Mr. Agreste?” Madam Rossi asked. 

“He’s not here,” Marinette supplied. “He’s visiting family.” 

“Ha!” Said Lila. “That proves it! If he wasn’t guilty, he’d be here!” 

“Hush, Lila. I’ve heard enough from you.” Her mother spat. “You, what’s your name?” He looked at Marinette. 

“Uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” 

“Marinette—first of all, I want to apologize to you and your mother. She called me with concerns and I blew her off. In fact, I didn’t know there were any problems until I received a court summons at my workplace. Not only was my daughter lying to me about her after school activities, but she lied about the school being closed to take an extended vacation!” 

There were scoffs of disgust from around the room. 

“Mama...” Lila whined. 

“I said be quiet, child. Your lying has gotten too far out of control and I’ve had enough of it. It’s time your friends knew the truth. And you’re going to tell them. Now.” 

Lila swallowed. “Um...I didn’t actually go with my mother abroad for several months. I was at home. I told her the principal was akumatized and the school was closed.” 

“Now, about Marinette?” 

Lila groaned. “Marinette was right. I didn’t bully her at all. I made all that stuff up...” 

“And regarding Adrien Agreste?” 

“Adrien...never touched me. I lied. I was mad because I was fired from Gabriel for harassing Adrien.” 

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” 

“No.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Madam Rossi huffed. “What do you have to say to Marinette?” 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“For lying.” 

“Not good enough, Lila. Try again.”

Lila hissed, like apologizing was actually, physically painful. “I’m sorry for tattling on you to your mom. And I’m sorry for trying to get you expelled.” 

Marinette pushed her luck. “...and for turning my friends against me?” 

“AND for turning your friends against you.” 

Eh. Good enough. 

“Now, Marinette,” said Madam Rossi. “Lila must apologize to Adrien, but she’s being sent back to Italy right away. Will you record it and make sure he sees it?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” Marinette took out her phone and turned on the camera. “Ready when you are.” 

Madam Rossi nudged her daughter in the ribs. 

“Adrien...I’m sorry I lied about you touching me. I’m sorry I lied to get into modeling with you. And I’m sorry I kissed your cheek without permission...and I'm sorry I spied on you.” With a little shrug, that’s where she ended it. 

Marinette stopped recording and leveled a glare at Lila. “You’re not really sorry, are you? You wouldn’t think anything was wrong if your mom wasn’t here making you apologize.” 

Lila didn’t answer, but her dead-eyed glare spoke volumes. 

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Oh you think you’re so smug! Just because my lies caught up to me first! But you’re just as much as a liar as I am, aren’t you, little miss goody goody?” 

Maybe she was being petty. Maybe it was adrenaline. Or maybe she really didn’t like being called a liar. 

Either way, she held back just long enough to look in her purse. 

Tikki gave her a firm nod. 

Time to be selfish. 

“Tikki, Spots on.” 

In a whirl of pink, Ladybug sat in Marinette’s seat and the room went dead silent. 

Except for Alya, who was making some choked wheezing sounds. 

“Happy now, Lila?” Ladybug said calmly. “Yes, I lied, and flaked, and ditched my friends. I hated every minute of it, but I knew fighting akumas came first, and everything else came second. I couldn’t tell a single soul until Hawkmoth was defeated. Not even my partner.” She leveled her gaze on Lila. “But you? You just lie because you can. You have no plans, you just lie and then lie again when someone calls you out on them. You don’t care. You never cared. All you care about is yourself. That’s the reason you got caught. I chose to reveal my secret because it’s safe now.”

“Shut up!” Lila barked. Then she actually threw a punch at the hero of Paris. 

Naturally, Ladybug dodged it like she had been moving in slow motion. 

“You’re the worst! This whole time I thought there were two stuck up, nosy, holier-than-thou bitches in Paris. But now I see it’s only one. You don’t deserve your fame or your powers! I could have had everything! Popularity! Friends! Adrien! Fame! Even powers like Hawkmoth promised me! But you had to ruin it for me! You always ruin everything! I hate you! I hate you!!” 

“Alright, we’re done.” Said Madam Rossi. She wrapped her arms around Lila, as she continued to wriggle and scream. “I see now that Italy isn’t going to be a good idea either. We’ll find a nice, quiet...resort for you for a little while.” 

But Lila just continued her screaming and kicking. Her mother had to forcibly pull her from the room. 

The door shut with a slam, Lila’s tantrum muffled down the hall. 

And then, Ladybug stood there, keenly aware of the actions she had just made in front of all her classmates. Even Miss Bustier was slack jawed. 

“I expect all of you can keep a secret of this magnitude. It would be best if you never even saw me transform.” 

Still silence. But Marinette dropped her transformation and sat down. 

Alya was the only one able to find a voice. “Why now? What changed?” 

“It’s safe now.” Marinette explained. “Relatively speaking. I’m certain that there’s people out there who still want to hurt me. But if we all keep this to ourselves, I see no harm.” 

“What about Lila?” Asked Alya. 

“Well, she does have a track record for faultless honesty. Who wouldn’t believe her?” Marinette said sarcastically. 

“Safe?” Nino asked, finding his voice. “Safe how?”

It was the sweetest truth in the world. “Chat Noir and I defeated Hawkmoth.” 

The sentence was like electricity, jolting the room with excitement, cheers, and hugs. Students scrambled to hug her in gratitude. 

“How?! When?!” Barked Alya. “There was no akuma! How did this happen!?”

Miss Bustier sat at the edge of her desk, resigned that there would be no learning today, but she really didn’t mind. 

“Espionage.” Marinette said, matter-of-factly. “And to be honest, it was mostly Chat. We just officially arrested him last night.”

“Who was he? How did it happen?! I need details!” Alya nearly screamed and grabbed her by the collar and shook. 

“Alya, calm down.” Marinette laughed. “I’d love to tell you all the details, but…I haven’t told anyone else yet. I have to address the public and write a speech…but I don’t even know where to start…”

Miss Bustier clapped. “Marinette! I have an idea!” 

She looked to her teacher, skeptical. “Yes?”

“A writing assignment for the class. You give us the details, everyone will take notes, and we’ll help you write the speech! It would be an excellent exercise for writing from an interview.” 

Marinette paused, crossing her arms and looking forward towards Adrien’s seat. 

Again, the news about Gabriel was going to be public at some point. If she could get it out quickly before the other media beat her to it, she might be able to manipulate the story in her favor. As angry as she was with Gabriel, his motive was fine, and he showed…remorse? Maybe he could be redeemed and maybe Adrien could have his family back one day. 

“As long as everyone promises to not talk about it to anyone, I don’t mind sharing the details.” 

There was another cheer around the class as everyone gathered their phones and notebooks to take notes. 

Miss Bustier clarified for everyone, “If you’re recording Marinette, the video promptly gets deleted after the assignment is over. It does not get posted on any social media, or get sent to anyone. This is for Marinette’s safety, do you all understand?”

“Yes, Miss Bustier!” Called the class, unanimously. After the dreadful behavior with Lila, no one was eager to get on Marinette’s bad side again.

Marinette stood at the front of the room, recounting what had happened, with the smallest twist of having Chat Noir as a separate character. If someone did blab, Adrien’s identity would be safe. 

“Adrien’s the hero of our story.” She began. “Gabriel Agreste was arrested last night at 10:30, coming peacefully and quietly. On Thursday night, he confided in his son, that he was in fact, Hawkmoth, and that his assistant was Mayura. He disclosed his purpose was to save the life of his wife Emilie, who had fallen mysteriously ill. He was under the assumption that the only cure was using Chat’s and my Miraculous. It is unknown where he got this idea from. Adrien was skeptical enough to flag down Chat Noir as he was doing a late night patrol. He explained the situation to my partner. From there, they waited until Monsieur Agreste went to sleep, before stealing the Miraculous off of him. Chat then delivered the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous to me, and further explained the situation. After consulting my resources, we visited M. Agreste and told him it was likely we could still save his wife without the need for our Miraculous. He then willingly gave himself up and apologized. He has been taken into police custody.” 

“Excuse me, Ladybug,” Alya called out, just like in a real press conference. “What happened to Mayura? Is she in police custody as well?”

“I don’t know about that. The police are aware of her involvement, but she was fired by Gabriel earlier this week. She wasn’t with him when he was arrested.”

“Are you going to go after her?”

“No. She no longer has a Miraculous. This is not a job for us anymore.”

Someone else raised their hand, Nathaniel. “How much do you want us to elaborate on Adrien’s involvement?”

“I only have Adrien’s best interest at heart. While I know he’d rather not be mentioned at all, I think it’s extremely important for the media to know that he was not complicit in his father’s actions.” 

“Where is Adrien now?” Asked Chloe, more out of concern than for the assignment. 

“He is with his mother while she gets treated. I won’t disclose that information to the public.” Then she added as a side note, “but if you want to know, ask me later, Chloe.” 

Chloe just took a relieved sigh and nodded to her. It seemed all the previous animosity between her and Ladybug, or even Marinette, had faded with all this new information. 

“Where are the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous now?” Asked Kim.

“Someplace safe.” Marinette smiled. “There’s no fear of someone else getting a hold of them.” 

“Are Ladybug and Chat Noir retiring now?” Asked Rose, full of emotion.

“Ladybug will continue her patrols, and try to help around the city. I haven’t talked with Chat about what he wants to do.” 

Alya raised her hand again, her eyes shining with excitement. “Any chance of auxiliary heroes getting to join you every once in a while?”

Marinette shrugged. “Perhaps.” There was no reason for them to, but with Gabriel behind bars, there was no reason for them not to. “Any other questions?” 

The class was frantically scribbling down notes, but there were no more raised hands. 

“I have plenty of off the record questions!” Alya called. 

“I’ll answer those later,” Marinette asked. 

“Alright,” began Miss Bustier. “These speeches will be due…Wednesday? Does that work for you, Marinette?”

“That should be perfect.”

“Wonderful. Then I won’t be giving anymore literature homework until then, because I want everyone to focus on this. Please write at least one page, double spaced. But more is fine. Ladybug has the right to edit whichever one she picks.” She glanced at the clock. “Goodness, that was almost the whole hour! I’ll give you the rest of the hour to talk among yourselves.”

—

While stories don’t typically have a happy ending in real life, Marinette was happy to note that things were working out nicely. The fog remained the rest of the week as Adrien stayed away from Paris. Juleka, of all people, ended up writing the most articulate, emotional, and accurate speech out of the bunch, and Ladybug presented it at a press conference with the Mayor. 

Stories of all sorts of accuracies came out of it from the media, but conspiracies were loudly silenced, as Ladybug’s speech in full was available to everyone. Gabriel had yet to make any statements of his own, but his lack of urgency only lended itself to the official story. 

It was over.

Gabriel’s trial would come in time, and Ladybug and Chat Noir would both be expected to testify, but the fight against Hawkmoth was over. 

Despite revealing herself to her family and classmates, Marinette felt light. Unburdened, and guiltless. The raised grades were a bonus. 

There was just one thing missing.

Adrien.

It had been a week since he stepped into that portal with his mother. He hadn’t taken his phone with him, but she never received a message from his baton. Not even a confirmation that he made it safely. 

After several days of solid dependence and partnership, she missed him terribly.

Then finally, late one night, she awoke to a flash of light on her balcony. She was instantly awake, throwing open the door to investigate. 

Belle Noir stood there, alone, and looking exhausted. 

“Adrien?” She asked softly. 

“Miss me, My Lady?”

“Unbelievably.”

Adrien dismissed his transformation and dragged himself over to her room. 

“So what happened? How is she?”

“Still asleep.” He landed on her bed, and took off his shoes. “Not likely to wake up for a while still…but she looks better. They told me to go home, since being around her and watching was making me ill.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just need a shower and a good night’s rest. Can I sleep next to you? I really missed you.”

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

After showering and shaving, a nice clean Adrien flopped onto Marinette’s bed. He inhaled deeply. “Hmm, I missed this smell.” 

“Weirdo.”

“Smells like bread and cinnamon and pretty girl.” 

“Do you want to hear about all the trouble I got into while you were gone?”

“All of it…if I can stay awake.”

So Marinette told it all, starting on Monday morning with Lila, and leading all the way up to the speech, which she showed him on her phone. 

“You just transformed? In front of everyone?”

She shrugged. “Not my brightest move, but Lila was accusing me of lying too…I just wanted to get it out in the air. I don’t regret it.”

“Did you tell anyone who I am?”

“Nope. I thought about telling Alya and Nino, but your identity is yours to tell. Or to keep a secret. It’s totally up to you.” 

Adrien had his eyes half closed, the comfort of the bed and the warmth from his girlfriend relaxing him to sleep. “I have some ideas.”

“Care to share?”

“No. Too tired.”

“Okay kitty.” She giggled. Then she shuffled down to lay beside him, before he latched on and nuzzled her. “Hmmmmm My Lady.”

“Goodnight Kitty Cat.”

“Night. I love…”

“I love too.”

—

In the morning, Marinette woke up to an empty bed. For a moment, she worried that Adrien coming back last night had been a dream. But his suitcase was open and rifled through. 

Confused, she got up and got dressed, and then came down for breakfast. 

“Morning Miss Hero.” Sabine said fondly.

“Morning mama…did you see Adrien this morning?”

“I didn’t, but your father did. Said he got up really early to take care of some stuff.

“‘Stuff’ huh? Sounds vague.” 

“I don’t know. But he said he’ll meet you at school. So instead of interrogating me, you can go to class and find out for yourself.” 

“Oh I suppose!” Marinette said, dramatically. Then she took a seat at the table and started pouring herself some breakfast. 

“They’re talking about the Hawkmoth story again.” Sabine gestured to the muted TV. “Some people are calling for a reinstatement of the guillotine.”

Marinette scoffed. “Yeah, maybe if there had been any lasting damage, maybe. But as it stands, no one died, no collateral damage…maybe some trauma I guess.”

“You’re being awfully defensive of the man you’ve been fighting the last year.” 

Marinette shrugged. “I just…want Adrien to have his family back. I know Gabriel has to face punishment, and jail might even soften him up to be a better dad when he gets out. I just want him to be able to have his dad in his life…even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Even after all this, he doesn’t hate his father?”

“I couldn’t say.” 

—

The fog had lifted. The morning sunlight was warm and bright, the birds chirped, the flowers bloomed. Adrien was back in Paris, somewhere, and all was right with the word. 

Marinette almost skipped to school.

Half of her class awaited her by the steps, and when she came into view, they all started calling for her. “Marinette! Marinette!” 

“Carry your bag to class?”

“Carry you to class?”

“Guys guys,” she laughed. “I’m flattered, but you don’t need to keep pampering me. It was fun last week, but we’re cool now, okay?”

“We just wanted to let you know that we were sorry and we appreciate you!” Said Rose, enthusiastically.

“I understand. And I forgive you. The cards, and the back rubs, and the foot rubs, and the manicures…I got it. But I don’t want our friendship to revolve around you guys just worshipping me. And I especially don’t want to be treated like this because of who I am. Let’s just…all go for ice cream this weekend?”

“Fine, but I’m paying for your ice cream!”

“No! I want to pay!”

Marinette chuckled to herself and led the throng of followers into the school. Maybe…one more week of being spoiled wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Have you heard anything from Adrien?” Nino asked, as he asked everyday. 

“Actually, I did! I’m fairly certain he’ll be in class today too!”

Nino pumped his fist. 

“What should we do to make him feel welcome?” Asked Rose. “We were pretty crappy to him last time we saw him. After all he’s been through…”

Marinette looked over the remorseful faces staring at her. They wanted to make things right. 

“I think apologies, hugs, and just being there for him will be enough. I think he’d appreciate affection, but not being treated like he’s fragile. He’s incredibly strong, you know.” 

They all nodded, but she could hear them conspiring with each other about cards and a cake. She wasn’t going to fight them on this. Adrien needed his friends, and sincere ones at that. 

Walking into the classroom, Marinette’s eye immediately fell on the very expensive handbag on her desk. Chloe sat at her own desk, admiring her nails. 

“Is that—?”

“A Hermes Birkin Togo Handbag with gold Hardware? Why yes, it is.” 

“Why is it on my desk?”

Chloe shrugged. “what, that old thing? I got it, but it doesn’t match my wardrobe, so I figured you would appreciate it.” 

“But…this is new this season! It hasn’t even been released yet!”

“Well, it’s old to me. Give it to your mom if you don’t want it. It’s no skin off my nose!” 

Marinette gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you Chloe, this means a lot to me. Especially after all that happened.” 

“Are you talking about my silly little tantrum? Puh-lease. Even I’m not immune to the allure of pretty jewelry. But it won’t happen again, I’m over combs.”

“Well, I’m crazy about this bag, so thank you.” 

Chloe’s mouth twitched before she said, “you’re welcome.”

Alya and Marinette spent the rest of the morning gushing over the bag, because regardless of who it came from, it was a nice bag. Miss Bustier came in and started the lesson.

It was then that Marinette realized Adrien still hadn’t shown up. 

“I thought you said he was coming today?” Whispered Nino.

“I thought he was. He doesn’t have his phone on him anymore either.”

A few minutes passed before a black blur whizzed by the window. It back tracked and Chat Noir landed on the ledge, knocking on the window. 

“Chat Noir?” Miss Bustier asked as Kim opened the window. 

“So sorry I’m late! I was packing up some of my mother’s belongings to take to her later.” He stalked across the room, with Adrien’s bag draped over his shoulder. Then he stopped at Marinette’s desk, before stooping to kiss her on the lips. “Good morning, My Lady. Sorry I left without saying anything. I woke up early and I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“It’s okay.”

“Claws in.” 

And then it all clicked. The class went ballistic. There was screaming, hugs, well-intended punches, and overall excitement. 

Miss Bustier rolled her eyes fondly. “Guess I’ll have to remove your absences too, to be fair.” 

“Oh, sorry. When Marinette told me she revealed her identity to the class, I knew I had to too, and even more dramatically.” 

“You’re such a goober.” Marinette teased fondly.

“But I’m your goober!”

[adg1115]

I Need Your Help Ronnie

"Veronica, you better get up now or you are going to be late for school."

"Ummph," I mumbled into my pillow as I turned my head towards where my dad's voice came. I didn't get much sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, Lilly would come visit me. This is not the first time she came to give me some afterlife guidance. The first time she appeared to me, I cried for three hours straight. Now, I have gotten used to seeing her face in my dreams and usually it is comforting. She always looks so peaceful in my dreams - like an angel.

Lilly tried to remind me of the good times I had with Logan. Like the time my mom was so drunk she forgot to come pick me up from pep squad practice. Lilly and Duncan were out of town and my dad was still at work. When Logan picked me up he could tell how upset I was so he took me to the boardwalk and filled me full of junk food. We stayed out until my legs couldn't move anymore then drove home in silence. Before I headed into my house, he told me that anytime I needed another day at the boardwalk he would gladly oblige. Every time my mother drunk herself into a stupor, he was always a phone call away. We never had to talk about why he was there.

"Veronica get up now!"

"I'm up!" I yelled dragging myself out of bed and into the kitchen. "I don't smell bacon."

"Did you not sleep well dear?" My dad asked completely ignoring my need for bacon. He stepped closer to me to exam the dark circles under my eyes.

"Eh, what is this sleep you speak of?"

"What's going on Veronica?" Dad asked in his fatherly tone.

"Ahh the usual-late night out with Chico and Tyrone. Hmmm, those boys," I said trying to distract dad. Yeah I know I should probably tell him. Oh nothing is going on dad except being visited by my dead best friend's ghost who is trying to convince me to ease up on the guy who made the last year of my life a living hell and take his case of the missing offspring. Yeah, I don't think so.

"Veronica."

"Seriously, it's nothing dad. I was just up late studying last night." Which wasn't a total lie, I did read a page from my English assignment.

"Whatever you say honey," dad said as he kissed the top of my head. "I got a lead on a bail jumper in Nevada and I will be heading out after I run by the office. Or I could stay…"

"No. Go. I'm fine," I said as I shooed dad out the house. I really didn't want to be alone but I also really really didn't want to talk about my feelings.

I had done my best to find Logan the next day at school. If he himself wouldn't have come to me begging for help, I would have thought he wanted nothing to do with me. I knew how much this would mean to Logan. He used to talk to about how he would marry Lilly and have several children causing their own chaos out in the world.

On my way to my locker after lunch I spotted him. Maybe I could take longer at my locker than usual and corner him before the tardy bell rung for next period. Or I could cowboy up and just talk to him, since he does need my help.

"Hey. Can I talk to you?" I asked Logan. I'm sure he and his toadies were discussing what 'bitchin' party they were going to this weekend or what 'gnarly' waves they were going to surf. I could honestly care less. And the fact that I had to breathe in the same air as those uptight '09ers made this interaction even less appealing.

He turned towards me with an evil smirk on his face. Oh shit. "I just can't take the begging. I'll relent, just once - but no cuddling after, and I won't call you in the morning." Oh and there he is ladies and gentlemen! Logan Echolls, jackass extraordinaire. I know it's his defense mechanism and I shouldn't probably bring this up in front of his groupies but his avoiding me wouldn't bring his kid home any faster.

"Smooth Echolls. Just forget about it, I can't believe I was actually feeling sorry for you." I didn't give him time to respond as I headed to my next class. If he wanted to act like he didn't need my help, I would play right along with him.

Once school let out I headed to dad's office to print out a billing sheet stating exactly what the cost of my services would be. Ha Logan would get a kick out of that! I put all the paperwork in a manila envelope and headed over to the Echolls estate. The sooner I started this the sooner it would be over.

The last time I was at Logan's house was the day of Lilly's funeral. Logan and I just sat around stuffing our faces with junk food and watching movies. Neither one of us spoke about the fact we just lowered my best friend or the love of his life down in the ground. It was all surreal walking back to the pool house where Mrs. Navarro said Logan would be. And of course there he was wasting all his brain cells on a mindless video game. His stupidity made so much sense now.

"I love the smell of testosterone in the evening."

"This is why I suggested attack dogs. But no, my mother wanted an alpaca." I could tell he was mad at me but at this point I really didn't care.

"I brought some paperwork dealing with your case. If we could just go over a couple of points, I will begin the search for your daughter."

That sure got his attention and he was across the room in a second grabbing the top of my arm leading me further into the pool house slamming the door behind us.

"God Veronica, do you know what my dad will do if he hears about this? Or do you just not care anymore?"

"I wasn't trying to get you in trouble Logan but until you talk to me about this, there is nothing I can do for you. I seem to recall trying in school but that didn't work either." I gave him my best 'innocent' face. "Can we please just talk about this so I can get back to work and you can get back to whatever it is you are doing?"

He led me over to where a poker table was set up and took a seat right next to mine. You could cut the tension with a knife and I honestly hated that but I didn't know how to act around him anymore. He wasn't the Logan that was my best friend. He was damaged. Hell, we both are.

Besides the occasional head nod and grunt of agreement there was hardly any response from Logan. He shut down on me and I was glad for that. It would make my job so much easier.

"This is a list of my cost depending on which services you are looking for." That brought a small smile to his face. "Since its obvious you don't want to be seen with me at school or in public, I think it will best if we don't contact each other unless we have something of importance to share."

"Ronnie it wasn't like that."

"Logan this is for the best. We will keep it professional."

His face fell a little and I almost wanted to apologize – almost.

"Fine Veronica, just let me know as soon as you find something out." And with that he was up and showing me to the door.

That night I had trouble sleeping again. I hated the fact Logan got himself into this situation and came to me for help but what I hated the most was that I wasn't there for him when he needed someone. He couldn't turn to his parents and his friends were only his friends because of his status and money. His only real friend left is Duncan but he was lost somewhere inside his head and never came out to play.

Since I wouldn't be getting any sleep, I figured it wouldn't hurt to start on his case. As I guessed, not much came back on his summer lover, Amanda Washington. He was unsure of her father's name but knew her mother's name was something like Cindy or Candy or Bambi, your typical trophy wife name. I would get my dad to run Amanda's cell phone number tomorrow and see what came of that.

"You look rough, supafly." Along with trying to solve the case of the missing Echolls, I also was helping my dad with some of his cases he got backed up on, studying for upcoming first semester midterms, and trying to prove that the best teacher in school did, in fact, not have sex with that skank Carrie Bishop. Sleep was only something I could wish for.

"Thanks." I mumbled out to my best friend.

"Hey, listen I'm not going to be around at lunch but maybe we can hang out later. I know you are missing you some bff time."

"Yeah that sounds good Wallace," I said as Wallace practically skipped down the hall. That boy was much too happy for it being as early as it was. When I opened my locker, I noticed a folded piece of paper stuck between my books. A love note perhaps? More like hate mail.

Meet me in your office fourth period. That's all the mystery note said. Three guesses as to who the note was from the first two don't count.

[worldwidebt7]

Hell[L]ing || 04

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,416 § — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Kookie being the sweet helpful bun that he is.

§ — A/N: So, banged this entire chapter out in a day and a half because, well, QUARANTINE. I should have been working on my commissions or my Webtoon contest entry, but I had an itch to get the next chapter of this out because it’s about to get GOOD. Oh, and there’s a decent amount of Jungkookie in this chapter~ Enjoy!

 Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Today, it was raining. If you had the ability to have the sky open up and rain on you every day, you would do it in a heartbeat— you loved the rain. It was the only time where you felt fractionally normal around other people. The constant interference of energy caused by rainfall created something like a static that made it easier to drown out invasive outside emotions. You could have a conversation with someone and not get barreled over by wave after wave of their feelings. Plus, you couldn’t resist opening the windows of your home to let the sweet, clean air left behind a recent rain shower wash away any stagnant atmosphere that may have accumulated within its walls.

Beyond that it was raining, it was also, suddenly, surprisingly, pleasantly, Friday. After the short, but no less exhausting, encounter with your neighbor, Seokjin, and his sickly roommate, Taehyung, the rest of the week passed by with little excitement. Namjoon had given you the look—one you were expecting to get, but nerve-wracking nonetheless— once he found out that you had yet to write basically the first 75 pages of your novel, though at this point he was not surprised if the lack of spike in his aura suggested anything. He had given you until Thursday to write at least an outline of events so he could have a better understanding of how the heroine falls into the unfortunate situation she finds herself in. Thankfully, you had been able to accomplish this task, and was even able to send in dialog samples. Namjoon, for now, had been placated.

The other thing about Friday, or this Friday in particular, was that it was the third Friday of the month signaling your bi-weekly visit from your favorite grocery delivery boy, Jungkook. He would be arriving a little after 4pm, as he kept your delivery to the end of his route. Good thing too; the two of you have recently gotten close and your chattering would often cause tardiness to Jungkook’s other appointments. Not to mention you lived fairly far out of the way for your delivery boy who drove nearly 45 minutes just to drop off six measly bags of filled with the food items you had texted him the previous day.

Honestly the boy was too helpful for his own good. There was one Friday where he had popped by with your things when you off-handedly mentioned how the ice-maker in your freezer wasn’t working properly and making too much ice. The angel that is your delivery boy spent the next 20 minutes with your irritating ice-maker, chipping away at the ice that had frozen over the rotator and fixing the setting all so you wouldn’t have to go with your original plan which involved defrosting your freezer, losing your frozen goods, and cleaning up a cold, wet mess afterwards. He had not complained once. Not about the ice, not about having to use a screwdriver as a pick, not even when his fingers had become so cold that you could feel the pain— literally.

This was one of many examples of his unbridled kindness, and one of the many reasons you were always excited to see the boy. As you straightened your house and rearranged your pantry to fit the incoming foodstuff, the rain continued to strike the outside of your house, mixing in well with the low-fi hip-hop you had playing in the background on your stereo system. It almost made you sleepy, but your relaxed state wasn’t enough to deter the building anticipation towards your future visitor.

When you were pleased with your pantry, you backed away and closed the door, just in time it seemed, as there was a quiet knock at your door. You sighed happily— you hadn’t felt the boy coming at all, bless the rain and its emotion-jamming effects. Ah, wait, the rain…

You zipped over to the door, realizing a bit sluggishly that Jungkook would be standing outside in the rain with all of your groceries until you opened it for him, as he was always the model citizen and wouldn’t enter without your knowledge. Clad in only socks, you slide across the hardwood flooring and straight into the door, hitting it against your shoulder with a slight ‘thud’, before regaining your footing and flinging open the front door. On the other side was a wet, mop-headed delivery boy, looking rather shocked at the speed in which you had approached the door and more than likely hearing the impact your body made with it.

“Sorry, sorry!” You said, picking up the reusable bags that he had lugged from his car and sat on your front step. Before you could grab a third bag, his hands shot out to stop you, fingers grazing your arm and allowing you to finally get a clear read on his emotions— he was like the air after the rain: sweet, clean, and refreshing.

“Noona, you don’t have to do that, I got those.” He said, picking up the other four bags, two in each hand, before following you into the house and, albeit with some trouble, kicked off his boots. Jungkook really had no wicked bone in his body, not one. He never had a second agenda, never said something he didn’t mean, never held a grudge; and his emotions reinforced all of these facts regularly. It was no wonder you liked being around him— you never needed your abilities to tell you what he was really feeling or thinking. He was an open book for you, and he did so with the knowledge of what you were capable of.

“Thanks for coming all the way out here for me, I really appreciate it.” You chimed, setting the bags down on the counter, Jungkook following suit. He gave a light-hearted shrug before ruffling some of the water out of his own hair.

“It’s okay, you are paying me after all,” A small huff escaped your lips at his comment as you placed your new gallon of milk into the refrigerator. Humor spilled into the air as you became accustomed to his energy despite the rain and he stifled a laugh at your reaction. “I’m only joking— well, no, you are paying me— you know I like hanging out with you!” You cracked a smile, not even able to continue to pretend to be mad at him.

“Yeah, yeah… took you long enough to talk to me though!” Teasing him had quickly become one of your favorite past-times. He was so easily embarrassed, and the way he always touched his ears when he was especially bashful entered dangerous territories for your heart. Precious boy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not, I didn’t, UGH. You know what I’m trying to say!” You sputtered out a laugh, not even the least surprised that you did, in fact, know what he was trying to say. He had confided in you shortly after communication had been established that he got nervous around new people, most specifically women. You weren’t sure why, he was a kind, bright, good-looking young man, and he had never produced much of a reason for it either. That’s just how he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to overstep any barriers and make people uncomfortable? Though now that you knew him, being uncomfortable with Jungkook was entirely impossible. And at his pink cheeks and pout, you caved, throwing a grape at him just to make him flinch.

“Alright punk, I forgive you.” You said before popping a different grape into your mouth. The dark-locked boy rubbed his chest where the grape had bounced off, feigning offence, the continuous stream of humor flowing off of him enough for you to know that he was enjoying your banter.

“Thanks, noona, really appreciate it, almost a year later!” He crinkled his nose at you as if he were irritated before tumbling into a fit of laughter, where you joined him merrily. Precious boy.

“So, what have you been up to? How’s school?” Routine questions, but you honestly wanted to know. He looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly trying to think of any recent changes in his life. You raised an eyebrow as you closed the door to your fridge once you finished putting away the chilled goods. As expected, he shrugged.

“The usual.” He began helping you by unloading the canned goods onto the counter top. “My film class is getting pretty interesting though.” Folding the tote bag the groceries were in, he placed it on one of your bar stools and then looked at you. “What about you? Anything interesting happen lately? Any more birds fly into your window?” You rolled your eyes at his teasing— living out here by yourself, you rarely had anything substantial to share with your friend. This time, however…

“Well, I’ve got new neighbors…” You revealed, picking up a few of the canned goods. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, following your lead and collecting a couple of cans to help you on your way to the pantry.

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, nodding your head as you placed your cans on the shelf.

“Mmhm. A tall guy with purple hair and his roommate that’s apparently always sick.” You elaborated, not mentioning names for now. “They’re… nice.” At your hesitation, you felt a slight buzz of uneasiness from the man beside you. You looked at him, knowing he was aware that you felt his change. “What?”

“Just nice?” His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at you like he was trying to read your energy, which you believed with little doubt he could. You spent too much time by yourself anymore and you long had forgotten how to properly dress your expressions for social interactions. You let out a breathy chuckle at his concern.

“Yes, nice.” You reiterated, plucking the cans from his arms. He gave you an unimpressed look that was garnished with a pout. With a sigh, you indulged him. “I can’t get a good read on either of them…” Your confession only left him more confused.

“You mean your empath stuff, right?” A nod of affirmation. “Why can’t you read them? I thought you didn’t know how to turn it off?” You hummed thoughtfully, taking the last can from him.

“It’s not that I can’t read them, it’s just that…” You turned from the pantry after placing the last can on the shelf and ran a hand through your hair. “The one dude is always freaking out— panic, panic, panic— all the time! I’m afraid that he’s going to give himself a heart attack! But beyond that, I have a gut feeling telling me that he’s a good person, even when he deliberately lies to me.” Arms crossed, Jungkook looked at you pointedly.

“So… a good liar?” He asked, trying to understand your instincts. You shrugged with a groan.

“Maybe? I don’t know, I really do think he’s… good.” You stepped back over to the counter to grab your new paper towel rolls and plastic wrap to be set in their proper locations. Jungkook slid onto a bar stool and leaned against the counter.

“Okay, not really sure what that means, but…” You glared at him, and he grinned at you, obviously trying to hold back laughter. “What about the other one?” At that, you paused. How were you supposed to explain ‘the other one’? Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t bother putting way the items in your hand, rather opting to just set them on the counter again.

“Well, uh…” You trailed off, not entirely sure if he would believe you seeing as the last time you tried to explain something improbable with Yoongi didn’t go as you had hoped. However, looking at the wide-eyed boy in front of you, everything about his aura was open and trusting and you knew that if you told him, he would believe you. “His emotions come in ‘blips’.”

“’Blips’?” He repeated— not in a condescending way, but rather as if he were trying to place the definition of the word. You nodded, less than prepared to explain yourself.”

“Yeah, I can’t feel his emotions all the time, they go away and reappear like radar blips. But they’re always super intense.” Resting your forearms on the counter, you let the edge press into your ribs a bit as you leaned forward. Even without your abilities, you could tell that Jungkook was trying to think of an answer, anything that could be the cause. You almost smiled at his thoughtfulness— there was nothing to suggest he didn’t believe you.

“Well,” he started, breaking you out of your trance. “You said he was sick all the time, right? Maybe that could affect your readings?” You had thought about that possibility as well— you had never been knowingly near a significantly ill person, so you couldn’t say that it wasn’t conceivable; though saying that was the only issue would be erroneous. Still, seeing as this was the only reasonable explanation you had come up with, you chose to put your faith in it.

“Maybe,” You agreed, nodding. You didn’t bring up the midnight visitor or the crawly feeling of being watched the last week or so, knowing the kind boy in your kitchen would likely throw a fit trying to figure out a way to help you. To be honest, you kind of wish he would, though that was only in your own selfish interests. Since you hadn’t had any real incidents besides that one, you decided not to worry the boy.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s visit this time around had to be cut short, as he had other responsibilities to attend to in the evening. You gave him sass of course, stating that you couldn’t believe that he had something more important to do than keeping you company. He laughed and apologized, though a small twinge of guilt in the air made you realize that he knew the hidden meaning in your friendly repartee.

You were lonely.

You were also aware that he knew you’d be able to feel the minute change in his emotional state even with the rain, but neither of you commented on it before you ushered him out the door so he could drive home while it was still light out. He bid farewell before sprinting to his car to avoid getting completely drenched and you waved from inside the doorway, flinching when he peels out of your driveway like he was Brian O'Conner from the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.

Sighing, you stood in your doorway for a bit longer, listening to the rain and watching the reflections in the puddles dance. This was the part you hated most— the emptiness that follows the end of social interaction. You were used to being alone, and the longer you were alone the more used to it you became. However, the small instances when you were able to talk to another person, be near them, smile and laugh with them… they reminded you that humans were codependent on each other. You needed other people. As much as you were physically pained to be near them, you needed them. As you spent more time in isolation from the world, the more you yearned to be normal.

The sound of a blunt object hitting the glass of your window wall had you spinning on you heel out of reflex. As Jungkook had teased you earlier, it was common for birds to fly into the large window panes. More often than not, they were fine and they flew off. But every once in a while, they injured themselves, and you took it upon yourself to assess their injuries and making them comfortable if need be.

So, imagine your surprise when there wasn’t a small, winged creature on your back patio, but rather a tall, soaked, handsome boy with his palm pressed against your French doors. You blinked a few times for good measure, hoping this was just an illusion and that you weren’t currently looking at your sickly neighbor with the weird readings standing in the rain outside your house. When you realized he was just going to continue to stand there looking into your house until you greeted him, you quickly shut your front door and hastily made your way over to let him in.

As you got close, you realized there was a buzzing in the air, like it was vibrating, again in blips like radar. You recognized this as anxiety or nervousness and quickly deduced that it was coming from your neighbor. You paused before opening the door— you didn’t know this man; you’d barely met him more than once and only heard him speak a single time, and it wasn’t even to you. Plus, you still couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling you got whenever he was within your range; there was too much similar between how you felt about the boy in front of you and the thing you saw that night. Were you really about to let him into your house?

Almost like he could feel your hesitation, his hand slipped from the door and he looked at the ground dejectedly. A hole appeared in you doubt at this innocent act, and a quick, shooting pain pierced your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was your own guilt setting in or his emotions afflicting you, but you opened the door without another lingering moment to think about how bad of an idea this was.

‘He’s sick and shouldn’t be in the rain,’ You told yourself as you now stood in front of this near-stranger without the protective barrier of your glass door. You swallowed, your own nerves now wreaking havoc on your body, though the dark-haired boy in front of you look more shocked and more nervous than you did. In fact, if you didn’t get him to calm down soon, his nerves would probably cause you to throw up. And the fact that his emotions only appeared like explosions in the atmosphere around you wasn’t helping. Still, the way he looked down at his feet rather than at you, just…

“H-hello…?” You greeted; your uncertainty evident in your shaken speech. He made the smallest movement, like he was flinching at the sound of your voice and you almost wanted to backtrack. Good lord he was skittish. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I-I mean, can I help you?” Fumbling over your words wasn’t new for you, but for some reason you were especially aware of your tongue’s missteps at the moment.

He stood there for a moment, contemplating you surmised, before peeking up at you through his wet bangs. You made eye contact and— sweet heavens— you forgot about the alluring abyss that was his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he looked at his feet again, which, you finally noticed, were completely bare.

“You said…” Now it was your turn to be startled; only now remembering how deep and velvet-like his voice was, even with how soft-spoken he currently was. “…that I could come….” He shifted, his nervousness beating around you like drums as you let his words sink in. You said he could come… you said he could come? When did you—

“Oh, um, well my house isn’t too far from yours…He’s welcome to stop by from time-to-time if he’s able… It’d be no problem… It’d be nice to have company every once-in-a-while.”

You suddenly remembered that, yes, you had invited him to visit you during your interaction Monday afternoon. At the time, you had your reasons, reasons that you couldn’t remember for the life of you at the moment. What on earth possessed you to tell a stranger it was fine to wander over to your house just because you were neighbors?!

And yet, the way his large body looked so small in front of you, like he was pleading with you to let him in…

“I-I did…” You relaxed your face enough to smile at him, your nerves still eating at you and a headache starting to set in from the intensity of his. You stepped aside to let him in, to which his head shot up and his eyes widened— you suppose he didn’t think you would actually let him in, but the sudden, yet agreeable change in his emotional blips was enough to tell you that he was relieved, pleased even, as he stepped in from the rain. “I should probably get you a towel, huh?”

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[slurrmp]

so uh this is all @myghostmonument​ ‘s fault. showed me some of her whittaker!master prompt, which got me kicked started. so here’s my take, it’s probably shit but  ... i needed to write this out      !!

triggers: blood, gore, a little bit of attempted sexual assault.

You didn’t know if it was the planet or the alcohol but you were certain that you could hold your liquor longer than what you had currently drunk. The music was loud and unfamiliar and you were surprised that the Doctor actually agreed to let you linger around here alone. He needed to go do something on the other side of the planet, you didn’t particularly feel up to running around today, so you did your best to look cute and ask him in the nicest way possible, which of course he saw through right away but agreed anyway.

“Don’t get into any trouble,” He had pointed a finger at you and you had narrowed your eyes at him. Mouth dropping open ever so slightly to argue back that you never got into trouble, but he pointed again as he lingered in the TARDIS doors. “I mean it [y/n].” Crossing your arms over your chest you sighed and shut your mouth. “Good, now, I’ll be back in about an hour or so. If not ...” He stepped inside, before poking his head back out. “Do come looking for me.”

That had been about three hours ago. Or something, you had lost track of time after your third drink. You know you should have gone looking for him, but he didn’t tell you where he was going, so the next best thing was to just stay where you were. And keep drinking and people watching. The aliens on this planet came in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours. There were humanoids, fish people on legs and occasionally you spotted a creature that looked like a giant slime ball. Though, that one you had to double take, considering it could have just been a hallucination due to all the drinks you had been sculling.

“What’s a pretty human like you doing in a place like this?” The voice grated at the back of your head, looking up from your fancy drink, you spotted an extremely tall rather startling bright fish person leaning closer to you. “We don’t get a lot of your kind around here.” Wincing slightly you leaned back and took another sip of your drink.

Looking around you, you spotted many other humanoids lingering around. Most in the booths to the back of the club but some on the dance floor. You looked back at the fish guy and raised a brow. “That is a rather shitty opener.” You retorted moving back to face him. It’s lips pulled into a wide smile and once again you tried not to gag at the smell.

“You’re clever...”

“I’m taken...” You continued to try your best to be polite. It seemed to have gotten the message after the third time it tried to use a pick up line. There was no fuss or swearing or calling you a bitch, actually it went a little bit too smoothly. Though, you knew you shouldn’t have been so lenient, you should have continued to keep your guard up.

It had cornered you in the alleyway, the Doctor had finally messaged you - the phone in your back pocket buzzed every thirty seconds, you had read one message and then realised that you were too drunk to even see the screen properly.

Doctor Know It All. 10:40pm

Got into a sticky situation. Took longer than I thought but all good now...

Another buzz to the phone.

Doctor Know It All 10:45pm

Right so ... not good. I’ll be five minutes.

One more buzz...

Doctor Know It All 10:46pm

Maybe ten.

You weren’t coherent enough to even realise what was going on as your back hit the disgusting wall to the opposite side of the club, it’s breath smelt disgusting and it’s hands were slimy, you couldn’t remember if you had protested or you were going to vomit, either way you felt it’s lips on yours and a sob escape from the bottom of your chest.

It felt like minutes, hours even - hands roaming over your body as you tried to squirm away but the bloody wall was blocking you in. That was until you finally felt the cool air of the evening rush against your skin, but it caused your head to whack back against the wall. Disorientated for a couple of seconds, you almost missed the hand that appeared around the giant fishes neck, knife held firmly. Slitting the fish’s throat and his green blood splattered across your face.

“Fuck!” You called out as you watched the alien fall in a heap on the ground. Watching it’s twitching form try and fight to stay alive, but eventually it stilled and the fish was no more. You were so focused on that, that you didn’t notice who it was that actually saved you from being violated even further.

“A thank you would be nice.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, you didn’t know if it was due to what you had just witnessed or because she was suddenly standing in front of you. It was automatic that your tongue came out to lick at your lower lip, but you forgot what was splattered all across your face. Grimacing at the taste of metal, which you realised now tasted a lot like your own, you shook your head. Letting your eyes wander upwards, you caught her wide hazel gaze as it looked at you. It moved from amusement to giddy, to annoyed all under three seconds and you tried to step backward, only to collide with the wall once again. “I mean really? Did he have to leave you at this bar of all places?”

The Master stepped over the dead fish and grabbed a hold of your forearm. “It is absolutely irresponsible. Leaving his pets to be violated like that.” She was muttering more to herself now, dragging you along towards her TARDIS that you had only just noticed was there. “Guess he loses a pet tonight.” Snapping open the TARDIS doors with her fingers she pushed you inside, causing you to stumble into the dimly lit space ship and trip over your feet.

The Master didn’t take a second glance at you as she made her way to the console and put the ship into flight. You heaved out a sigh and didn’t bother getting up off the floor, lying down even more, you let your head fall against the grating. Your hand came up and rested against your forehead, feeling rather clammy and sick. Closing your eyes, you couldn’t help but moan once more when you felt the warm sticky substance still covering your face.

It was silent for at least a couple of minutes, you trying to calm your brain down and sort through everything that just happened and the Master, well - she was too focused over her console. Suddenly, your eyes snapped open and your hand moved to your pocket, fumbling and trying to pull out your phone.

Heels moved across the glass before you heard ... “What are you doing?” just above you, but you didn’t take any notice.

“I’ve gotta call the Doctor.” You mumbled frantically trying to open your phone, but the blood was screwing with the face ID. “Let him know what happened and that I’m okay.” That was until your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You complained looking up and almost gasping as the Master stood over you. Oh, okay.

Swallowing you tried to keep your gaze focused on her face but ... well, her legs are right there.

“You don’t need the Doctor...” She snapped before chucking your phone over her shoulder. You heard it clatter against the glass floor and you couldn’t help but wince, snapping out of your thirsty bit.

“I just got that...” You whined. The Master rolled her eyes before she leaned down and hauled you up off the floor. “Let me go...” You thought the murder right in front of you would have snapped you out of the drunken state you were in. Guess you were wrong. The feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist and torso caused a shiver to rush down your spine, this wasn’t exactly the position you had seen yourself in at the start of the day.

“No.” Was all she said, before hauling you down the hallway. “You’ll end up getting yourself killed.” She had said something else, but you were fading fast. Luckily you weren’t present enough to realise you had fallen asleep in her arms, forcing the Master to lift you up and carry you to the medbay.

That would have been embarrassing.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Onsra- Chapter 1: Late Days and Awkward Encounters

vampire!jungkook x female reader

warnings for this chapter: pure awkwardness 

If you haven’t read the prologue, do that first!! PROLOGUE

word count: 1.5k

Onsra Masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months earlier…(before the prologue)

“Y/N! Get out of bed right now! You are not leaving me to endure mathematics by myself today!” Your best friend yanks the covers off your head in an unforgiving manner, throwing them to the floor and pouncing on top of you. You shriek when her skinny fingers dig into your sides and start tickling mercilessly.

“Get off! I’m up, I’m up! Stop it!”

Ga-In laughs and rolls away from you, squealing when you shove her off the bed. She hits the floor with a loud thunk and pouts when you smirk at her while looking off the edge of your bed. “I told you to stop, don’t give me that look.” You stick your tongue out at her and she chuckles, lifting herself off the ground and pretending to smack you, “get up, lazy butt. We’re already going to have to run to catch the bus.” You sigh and force yourself to stand up, despite your sore muscles screaming at you to get back in bed.

A quick look in the closet shows that you’re going to need to do laundry, but you make the best of it for the moment by grabbing the cleanest looking pair of jeans off the floor and spritzing them with perfume. 

You pull them on and scavenge the room for a decent shirt.

Because frick doing the wash. 

Ga-In is huffing and puffing next to you while the two of you practically sprint for the bus stop. Her asthma is probably kicking in, but your guessing her panting is also partly out of the rage she has for a certain someone making you both late again today. 

You start to laugh at the ridiculous situation while you truck along, backpacks flopping wildly and Ga-In clutching her skirt for dear life against the wind. People stare at the pair of you as you streak past them, apologizing if you knock into anyone. You’re starting to choke because you can’t breathe and run and laugh all at the same time, and Ga-In hears your giggles.

“Shut the heck up, y/n. I could literally kill you right now if I wasn’t so focused on not dying." 

That sends you into another fit of hysteria and you trip on a crack in the sidewalk, slamming to the ground with enough force to make pain go shooting through your wrist. Ga-In almost trips herself when she stops abruptly to see if you’re okay. She bends down and shakes her head when she sees you laughing and crying at the same time, "are you okay? Clumsy. Here, give me your hand.” You reach out and take her outstretched hand, letting her pull you to your feet.

You can’t decide if crying or laughing is the better way to go, so you just stick with alternating between both. The fall was painful, especially on your wrist, but the whole situation and the way you must’ve looked when you tripped makes you unable to stop laughing at yourself.

You look around, up, down and anywhere but your best friend while you try to blink the tears away and swallow the remaining painful giggles. Ga-In chuckles next to you, shaking her head, “really, y/n? A tiny crack in the sidewalk?” You glare at her as you wipe your eyes and shoulder your bag back into position.

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you, Ga-In. After you.” You sweep your arms out in front of you dramatically to tell her to keep walking. Ga-In bows and proceeds to skip ahead, “you know I love you, stinker.”

“Well, I hate you so.”

“y/n! Shut up and hurry.”

“I’m coming, geez.”

~

Needless to say; you miss the bus. It’s only a minute until your math class starts and your professor is always strict about students being tardy, so you run with all the strength left in you as you two dodge around people crowding the college campus. You’re only a few paces behind Ga-In, who’s reached the door, curse her long legs, and is holding it open for you; when you run right smack into someone who was crossing your path. 

Your momentum and how hard you hit them sends your body flying backwards and crashing to the ground. You barely register that the boy who accidently cut your b-line to the door hasn’t even fallen and he’s apologizing quietly, before you leap to your feet and dart past him; not sparing him a single glance but gracing him with a quick ‘I’m so sorry!’ as you sprint for the open door. 

You don’t dare stay behind and risk the wrath of Mr. Sung today.

The young man looks after you and bites back a shy smile, shoving his friends off him when they start to tease, “ohhh, someone’s got a crush.” He groans and pushes the other boy away from him, “get off. We’re late for class.”

~

Your eyes scan the cafeteria when you walk in; girls and guys alike either walk aimlessly picking a random table, or shoulder past people to sit with their groups. Ga-In waves at you from across the room and you smile and wave back, pointing at the lunch line and mouthing 'I need food’.

She nods and sends you a thumbs up; assuring you she’s got a seat saved. You scoot into the line and grab a tray, scanning the options to pick from quickly before your stomach implodes with hunger, when you overhear a girl whisper to her friend next to you.

“Did you hear about it?”

“About what?” Her friend whispers a little louder and the first girl shushes her before continuing, “-the police found a body yesterday. Someone was murdered.” Your eyes widen a tad, but you smile at the lady behind the counter and point to a sandwich, “that one please.” You keep pretending like you aren’t listening in on the girls’ conversation.

No. You’re not listening in. You just happened to hear a little something. A little something about a body. A supposed murder. Wait, what else was she saying now?

Against your better judgement; you lean a little closer to them and almost choke on your own breath when they suddenly walk away, whispering and sharing secrets without including you, who obviously just wanted to know a little info. What harm could that bring? 

What really startled you though, was how abruptly they get out of line, which sends you stumbling a little. You accidently step on the foot of the person that was behind them and apologize profusely, “oh gosh, I’m sorry. I- I’m a little out of it today.” You haven’t met his eyes. 

Yes, it’s a he and you can tell from his black combat boots. Which is actually why you’re so nervous.

You know those boots.

The same boy that you ran into before math today. 

He most likely hates you now for running away so quick after that incident. He must think you’re so rude, but you didn’t see him fall so you thought he was fine! 

You just stare at the lace on his boots, noticing that he tied them on the second to last line of lace holes. That’s kind of annoying, but whatever. 

It’s silent for a minute so you start to turn to walk away before he mentions anything from earlier, but then you hear his quiet and low voice mumble almost incoherently, “uh no, no it’s okay.” You smile and bow, but still refuse to look at his face, because if he’s cute then you’ll just have to chuck yourself out the window. You can see he bows as well as you turn to scurry to safety.

Shaking your head in disbelief at your rotten luck today, you swerve around the other students and head straight for Ga-In, who’s eating silently in the corner. As you pass a table of boys you hear one speak lowly to his friend, “dude, did you see the news?” That sparks your interest and you try to slow down subtly, listening intently to what they’re talking about. Maybe you’ll get a little more detail than those girls cared to give. The second boy appears to shake his head and the first scoots closer holding his phone out to show him a picture.

“They found a body yesterday and the police think the killer is going to strike again.” His friend just laughs and shakes his head, “how can they know that?” Boy number one scoffs and taps away on his phone.

“You seriously need to pay better attention to the news, dude. There have been four murders in the past week before this one, and it’s all the same guy.”

“Oh yeah? How do they know that for sure?" 

You’re probably looking like a creeper right now because you’ve come to a full stop behind them, clutching your tray and trying to get a glimpse of the picture on his phone. 

"Because they were all done the same way and all of them were in Seoul, idiot. It’s definitely a serial killer." 

Your breath catches in your throat at his next words, ”-the police found the same marks on every body they found. Two puncture wounds on them, nothing else. The report says it seems like they bled to death…but, there wasn’t much blood at the crime scene.“

Well….that’s absolutely horrifying.

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

a/n: I hope you guys like this one, dw it’ll start getting good soon ;) thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)

[shikamarubase]

Scarred -Chapter Two-

A/N: Happy Nara Week, everyone! I was supposed to write something else for the first day, but please accept this overdue chapter for the ANBU prompt instead. You can find the first chapter here! I hope you enjoy! <3

—————

Chapter Two:

Shikamaru was, without a shadow of a doubt, late for the meeting.

Rushed for time, he dashed across the hallway leading to the Hokage’s office after changing into his full uniform. His hands fumbled over his ANBU mask as he ran, and he couldn’t stop the string of curses from escaping his mouth when the material got tangled in his windswept hair. Letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders instead of bundling it into the usual ponytail minimized the risk of being recognized during missions; his job was dangerous enough without the additional threat of being hunted down by someone with a grudge. Nevertheless, during times like these, he regretted ever agreeing to wear his hair down for ANBU business.

By the time he unceremoniously stumbled into Kakashi’s office, Ino and Chouji were already standing raptly in attention. He mumbled a quick apology as five pairs of eyes flickered over to him.

Five? Shikamaru arched an eyebrow and surveyed the figures inside.

Ino’s and Chouji’s faces were unsurprisingly hidden beneath their respective ANBU masks, but he didn’t need to read their expressions to confirm there was something amiss by the stiffness of their shoulders. Kakashi, however, was the picture of calm. He casually leaned back into his chair and regarded him thoughtfully with one eye, as if he already knew what was going through Shikamaru’s mind. The remaining two unfamiliar guests stood by the Hokage’s work table. Shikamaru was suddenly glad for the mask he wore over his face, otherwise they would have noticed him gaping at them. He was not one to judge appearances, but they wore attires he would describe as either needlessly fancy or completely ludicrous.

The taller one of the two wore a dark hood with cat-like ears over his head, a sharp contrast to the bright face paint decorating his face. He sneered in contempt, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but imagine he was being hissed at by an angry feline. “Oi oi, you dare call yourself a member of the ANBU Corps when you can’t even be on time? Kakashi, are you sure this guy is suitable?”

Next to him, the man with a mop of red hair cupped his shoulder. “Brother, stop.”

His voice was soft, but was laced with authority and a twinge of danger. Shikamaru couldn’t contain the small shiver that ran up his spine as he eyed the smaller man. When he raised his head, Shikamaru caught a glimpse of a tattoo hidden underneath his fringe. His instincts tingled in anticipation. He wasn’t particularly scary or huge, and yet there was something almost intimidating in the way his emotionless green eyes met his.

“Excuse my brother’s rudeness. He has been a bit wired ever since he allowed our sister to slip away.“

The older man’s jaw tightened in protest. “Oh c’mon, Gaara. You know Temari would’ve snuck out no matter how many guards we assign to watch her, and—”

“And that’s precisely why we’re here,” Gaara finished for him. His eyes lingered on Shikamaru for half a second longer before fixing them back on Kakashi. “Can I assume we have all gathered to begin our discussion?”

Kakashi straightened himself before giving a quick nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Before Shikamaru could wrap his head around that, the Hokage was already gesturing at him and speaking to snarky cat ears. “While Kurohi may not look or act the part, I assure you he is one of our best and brightest. Your sister will be in safe hands, Prince Kankuro.”

Your Majesty? Prince? His head swirled from the prestigious titles thrown inside the room, he didn’t acknowledge when Kakashi addressed him by his given ANBU name nor did he wait for Kankuro’s response.

He was in the presence of royalty. That would explain the extravagant clothing they had on and why Ino and Chouji looked so stiff. They had to deal with the temper of an impatient royal, because he was tardy. Suddenly the entire room reeked of power, and while Shikamaru wasn’t particularly fazed by ranking, he had to acknowledge that half of the people in the room could easily sentence him to death and he would have no way of stopping them. He mentally kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner—Gaara had a cape strapped to his back, for shinobi’s sake! For the better half of his life, he’s had family, friends, and even complete strangers tell him how intelligent he was behind his unmotivated facade. If they could only see him now, they’d understand why he always disagreed.

From Kakashi’s place behind the desk, he spoke to the trio directly as Gaara and Kankuro settled comfortably into the couch. “I’m sure you have figured it out by now, but the two gentlemen before you are none other than King Gaara and Prince Kankuro from Sunagakure. Another unit was assigned to escort them on their way here, but the next step requires the kind of teamwork only the three of you can offer.”

He paused when Gaara suddenly stood up, his cape fluttering behind him. “Lord Hokage, I’d like to tell them the details myself, if you don’t mind.”

If Kakashi was in any way shocked by the offer, he kept it to himself. Instead, he extended a courteous gesture before he sat back down and folded his arms.

Gaara trained his eyes on them. “As you all know, Suna and Konoha have been...at odds for almost a decade, ever since the last great war tore apart any chance of establishing an amicable relationship between our villages. And while we persistently tried to convince him otherwise, our father had blatantly refused to ally with another, so we have been...out of touch for the past few years.”

Shikamaru’s attention shifted when Kankuro scoffed lightly into his hand, a small scowl curling at the corner of his lips. Although his first impression of the temperamental Prince was less than appealing, he could understand where he’s coming from. If they were related, Gaara’s words would elicit an eyeroll out of him as well.

‘Out of touch’ was a severe understatement. The people of the desert kingdom were already known to keep to themselves and constantly avoid direct contact with foreigners, but after the war King Rasa kept the kingdom under lockdown and made sure not a single sandrat could sneak in or out. Anyone who tried was declared a terrorist and executed on the spot. Under the orders of the former Hokage, Shikamaru had snuck in once before for an espionage mission, and nearly lost his neck trying to sneak back out. In the short time he was there, one thing was clear: fear amongst the Sunan civilians was palpable. Sunagakure was a prison cell under the guise of a kingdom; Guards from the royal palace took turns patrolling the city in the interest of enforcing public safety. But rather than give off the image of being protected, civilians behaved skittishly and stepped outside the comforts of their homes at odd hours, almost as if they were afraid to bring attention to themselves. Shikamaru guessed the guards were really stationed to make sure no rebellion sprung up to overthrow the throne. He had to hand it to the former king—he was nothing if not ruthless. Rumors have it he’d trained thousands of soldiers inside the castle grounds in preparation for the next war, and he wasn’t modest about it either. Every other week, Shikamaru would hear news of how “the power-hungry King Rasa” had razed through yet another small neighboring village with no military power to assert his dominance and expand his domain. He was a detestable man who left only destruction and tragedy in his wake. His reputation preceded him, even in death. Despite the grotesque details surrounding his demise, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally out of the throne.

Sensing the tension in the room at the mention of the former King, Gaara cleared his throat. “As I was saying, now that I have ascended the throne, my first agenda is to rebuild my people’s trust in the royal family and to keep them safe from terrorist attacks. Father’s...excursions brought him enemies who’d love nothing more than to eradicate the royal bloodline and destroy our kingdom. The Land of Wind is one of the five founding countries, with rich history stemming from the beginning of civilization. We cannot let it fall so easily. Which is why, as King, I have decided to form a pact with your Hokage and ally ourselves to your nation...in exchange for your protection.”

Shikamaru’s mind raced at his final statement. It was customary for ANBU not to ask questions during mission briefs, but before he could stop himself concern tumbled out of his open mouth. “Pardon my rudeness, but why would you need our protection?”

Next to him, he felt Chouji tense but forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Gaara through the cover of his mask. The King brought a hand to his chin and regarded him curiously. “The Land of Fire boasts the strongest soldiers of all countries. Ninjas from this land are especially talented. Although I wasn’t able to take part in the last Great War, I’ve heard stories of how Konoha soldiers fought valiantly and pushed the war back despite their shortage of manpower.”

Shikamaru nodded briefly at this. It was a story he’d heard over and over as a child. It was his father, Nara Shikaku, who devised the strategies that led to their success in the war. “But I believe you’re mistaken,” he responded, his voice uncharacteristically clear and crisp even to his own ears. “ANBU normally don't fight in wars and most of us aren’t as powerful as you think. We only possess skills suitable for stealth missions, so I don’t see what we can do for you. If you want raw power, it’d be better to seek it from our Jounin or your own soldiers.”

“Kurohi,” Kakashi started to say, but Gaara raised a palm to cut him off.

“Sunagakure has a great number of skilled soldiers, yes. If this were for any other occasion, you’d be right. But as it stands, we need your expertise.”

Shikamaru arched an eyebrow as Gaara started pacing back and forth in front of them.

“Our soldiers are naturally proud and hot-blooded; we pride ourselves for being brave and we never back out from a fight. It is in our nature to rush into battle, even if we have nothing but the clothes on our backs. Some call it foolish, but we call it courage. Unfortunately, our courage makes us more prone to life-threatening situations. While we make up for it with overwhelming strength, our strategic planning is severely lacking. I soon realized, there is no point in winning a war if the soldiers don’t make it back home. When we heard there is a genius with an I.Q. of over 200 in Konoha, working behind the scenes and ensuring successful missions with almost zero fatality rate, we knew you would be the right man for the job.”

Gaara stepped forward and grasped Shikamaru’s shoulder, fingers curling into his skin. “There’s no need to hide behind your mask now, Nara Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru’s blood ran cold. Every bone in his body screamed for him to rip his hand away. This man was dangerous, his instincts gnawed at his head. He was the opposite of Kankuro, who seemed to instill fear through the volume of his voice and biting threats. And yet, the air around the current King was more than enough to keep him frozen in place. It almost felt as if he was facing a veteran soldier, a comforting presence to have around as a comrade but not someone he’d want as an enemy.

Shikamaru lifted his hand to heed to the command, his dark hair swishing over his shoulders as he removed the mask and shook his head slightly. When he lowered his chin to meet Gaara’s eyes, there was no longer any barrier between them.

“What exactly do you need me for?” He mumbled.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Gaara’s lips before he turned his back and went back to his original position. “I need the three of you,” his eyes flitted over to Ino and Chouji, “to guard my elder sister.”

The tension in his chest dispersed. That was not the kind of S-rank mission he had in mind.

As if sensing his disappointment, Kakashi stood up and waved a folder in his hand. “To seal our alliance, Princess Temari is to be wed to our Feudal Lord, Madoka Makoto, and your team has been assigned to be her bodyguards,” he explained.

That earned a small squeak from Ino. She always went on about how handsome the young leader was. If they weren’t in a meeting Shikamaru would’ve rolled his eyes.

“Our father’s assassin is still at large, and we have reason to believe they’ll be coming after us next. We have curbed countless rebellions over the last few years, all of which demanded to bring an end to our sovereignty. While we want to use this opportunity to establish a trusting relationship, they see it as a plot to continue our bloodline and expand our rule.”

“And, is it not?” Shikamaru raised a dubious eyebrow.

Gaara chuckled, the first time his face ever broke out of its stoic mask. “It is an amusing idea,” he admitted, “but I could hardly say I am cunning enough to come up with such an elaborate plan.”

His features clouded over as he added, “Brother and I have mastered swordsmanship, but Temari has no means to protect herself from criminals. They will surely capitalize on the opportunity to attack her and reveal themselves in the process.”

In Shikamaru’s head, his words easily translated to, “I’m using my sister as bait to lure out my father’s killers.”

Finally catching on to their hidden motive, his mind whirled with questions. If the princess was meant to be a catalyst for the alliance, why was she not a part of the meeting? And he had met his fair share of government leaders, and they were definitely not this chatty, especially for someone who’d practically admitted to having a target on his back. Suspicion gnawed at him like a persistent bug. If there was one thing he was sure of: the Sabaku Royal Family weren’t hanging around for entirely diplomatic reasons. And one more thing bothered him...

“What does she look like?” He blurted out and scrambled to cover his outburst. “We can’t protect her if we don’t know her face.”

“Indeed.” As Gaara took the folder from Kakashi and handed it to him, Shikamaru’s thoughts flickered over to the blonde woman he ran into that morning. A foreigner running around the city in a fancy day gown the same day he was assigned as a bodyguard to the Sunan King’s sister? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

He slowly flipped the folder open, his eyes scanning the description of the mission until they landed on a photograph. She looked exactly as he remembered; perched daintily on a wide couch in a lilac princess gown, with four bundles of blonde hair sticking over her head. Her lips pursed together into a pout as her striking teal eyes stared into the camera.

“If you show your face around me again you’ll be sorry!” Her parting words reverberated in his head as his worst suspicions were realized.

He inwardly groaned. This job was going to be more troublesome than he bargained for.

[maisygrace]

First try, don't judge

Hi, Maisy here. Probably nobody will read this, but if you do then be warned that its my first work I've published, so it might be awful. I think it's kind of okay, but who knows?? Enjoy. xx

Dylan leaned back in his chair and yawned. Prep was so boring. He and his friends had been sitting in the school library for almost an hour; they had three big tests coming up next week, and they needed to get good marks. The only person not studying was Dylan. He had the attention span of a goldfish. As he sat looking around, Dylan fiddled with his pen, his rubber, he tried to settle down and read his textbook – he knew this stuff already! Having done anything and everything to keep himself occupied; Dylan (defeated by boredom once again) resorted to the classic timewaster of tapping his short fingernails on the wooden table.

He was so zoned out that when his friend Flynn put his hand on Dylan’s arm, Dylan jumped like he had been poked with a cattle prod. Coming back to reality with a jolt, Dylan realised that Flynn was waving his tanned arm in front of his face and saying, “Dylan? Dyl? You alright mate?”

Still dazed, Dylan nodded his head and replied, “Huh, what? Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

Flynn grinned and ran a hand through his chocolate-brown curls, “Good that. I’ve finished my history notes, and Jamie and Al left about ten minutes ago. We should probably head to dinner.”

Dylan’s stomach grumbled in response, “Don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

Flynn laughed and pushed back his chair; it squeaked against the hard wood floor. He slung his bag over his left shoulder and started out of the library. Dylan hurried to grab his things and followed. Catching up to his green-eyed friend, Dylan slowed his pace to match Flynn’s. They walked along in silence for a while, until Dylan, who had been deep in thought, looked at his friend and asked, “Do you ever get bored?”

“Bored of what?” Flynn looked at him quizzically.

“All this,” Dylan paused, “The same thing every day: waking up, getting ready, going to school, going to the library to study, eating dinner, and then going to bed to start all over again?”

Looking pensive, Flynn shook his head. The sunlight caught on his curls as they bounced back and forth.

“No, not really.” he said, and that was that.

The pair walked the rest of the way to the dining hall in silence. When they arrived, they were greeted by two other boys their age, waving energetically. Dylan and Flynn waved back and made their way over to the table. The shorter of the two boys had shoulder-length hair that was a dirty blonde and was tied back into a ponytail. A devilish grin was spread across his pleasant face. He had eyes that sparkled with mischief, but they were framed by big dark circles, an indication of many sleepless nights. His uniform was untidy – his shirt was untucked, there was mud on his trousers, and his blazer was slung haphazardly over the back of his chair. He had undone his blue and white tie so that it hung loosely around his neck with his shark tooth necklaces.

The boy who was sitting next to him was his opposite. He had short, brown hair that had been carefully styled, a small smile had crossed his face when he had seen his friends, but aside from the occasional smile, he wore an expression of indifference. With neat uniform worn perfectly, he could not have looked any more different. He was constantly begging his Al to sort out his uniform.

“Al, please.” he said exasperatedly, “At least tuck your shirt in.”

Having grabbed himself a sandwich, Dylan sat down and laughed, “If he tucked his shirt in then he wouldn’t be our Al. It’s no point in begging.”

Al’s grin grew impossibly wider. “So,” said Al, “what stuff have you guys actually revised? A'cos I’ve done my French and History, but I don’t actually have any Geography notes.”

A conspirational look briefly passed across Al's face. He made puppy eyes at James.

“Jamie,” he whispered in a wheedling tone, “Can I have yours?”

“Fine,” James sighed as Al punched the air. James pretended that he minded, but they all knew that he really didn’t. “I think I’ve done all my revision. French, History, and Geography.”

Nodding, Flynn agreed, “Yeah, same. Is it just me, or is the French really difficult stuff?”

“I know right!” exclaimed Al. As usual, he was too loud. Too loud or too quiet with Al; there was not in between.

“Meh,” Dylan made a noise of disagreement, “It’s not really that difficult when you know what you’re doing.”

The other three boys all rolled their eyes. Dylan was always doing this. Bright smile falling from his face, Al tore off a chunk of bread and rolled it between his thin fingers. Hand going limp, he let the bread drop back onto his plate.

Avoiding everyone’s gaze, he mumbled, “Yeah, I’m sure it’s not.”

Al’s voice was laced with danger; the silence that followed was like the calm before the storm. Taking a shaky breath, Al pushed his chair back from the table. The noise of its flimsy legs screeching across the floor - though it went unnoticed in the noise of the room - was the start of uncomfortable silence. Holding up his hands in defeat, he stepped away from the table.

“You know what mate? Have fun passing all your tests with full marks and no revision. Funnily enough, some of us have to work hard to do well.”, he paused, looking long and hard at his friends, “And even then, we’ll probably still fail.”

His voice cracked with the last word. Al's eyes glistened with tears as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the dining hall. Barely a second passed, and then James got up out of his seat, grabbed Al’s bag and blazer, and hurried after his friend. Giving Dylan the evil eye, Flynn grabbed his sandwich and followed. Dylan dropped his head into his hands; he hadn’t meant it like that. Why did he always manage to say the wrong thing? How did he always manage to say the wrong thing? Sitting at the table, Dylan was alone with his thoughts, he didn’t like it. Picking up his bag, he got up and left. Al had been in moods like this before – Dylan knew it wasn’t a good idea to go back to the dorm room yet.

Having wandered aimlessly around the school for at least an hour, Dylan began to make his way back to his room. His room? he thought, more like their room. Dylan made his way along the corridor to their dorm room. Standing outside, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was greeted by a familiar sight. Inside the room was four beds, two on either side of the room. Each bed had a small table beside it, and each boy had decorated his table in a different way. On Flynn’s bedside table there was a pair of earphones, a few pens, and a packet of tissues. Only Dylan knew about the polaroid of his twin sister that he kept in the top drawer. On James’ table there was a phone charger, a clock in the shape of a TARDIS, and a copy of Good Omens. Good Omens was James’ favourite book, and was only one of the many that he had brought with him to school. Al’s table was the strangest by far: a picture of his pet snake Noodle, a compass, and multiple small objects (such as bracelets, stones, and feathers). Al was a “collector”. Flynn said Al was a hoarder, and James said he was sentimental. Dylan’s own table had a packet of chewing gum, a glass of water, and a photograph of himself and his friends. When the photo had been taken, the boys had been on a school trip to Dover Castle. The day had been swelteringly hot, and James’ lunch had been stolen by seagulls, but it was one of Dylan’s favourite memories. Dylan walked over to his bed and sat down. He kicked off his black leather shoes and laid down. Having only had a few seconds of peace, Dylan suddenly felt the bed dip by his left knee. Flynn had emerged from the boys’ shared bathroom, seen Dylan, and had made himself right at home. Slightly raising his head from his pillow, Dylan shot Flynn a quizzical look.

“What?”, said Flynn.

Dylan sighed, “Well, you wouldn’t have come over if you didn’t have something to say.”

Dylan knew that wasn’t true, but he said it anyways. Flynn looked taken aback.

“Don’t you start it on me, I only came to check if you were okay.”

Flynn put his hand on Dylan’s bare arm. Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan put his head back down.

“I guess so," he started, “I don’t like being smart you know. I don’t like school, and I don’t like work or tests. I- I sometimes just wish that I could forget everything that I know and could be anywhere but here.”

Flynn frowned; he hated seeing Dylan like this. Usually, he was so bright, and happy, with a quick wit, and brilliant sense of humour, but nobody could be happy all the time. Wrapping a protective arm around his friend, Flynn laid himself down next to Dylan. Dylan moved closer into Flynn's side, and closed his eyes.

[confusedhalfofthetime]

I have a request for like a Dh!Master x reader where Master is a prisoner of this space prison thing and the reader is this officer of the thing. The master teases the reader so much until the reader shoves the master into a closet and do the dirty ~🐄

Hey anon, thanks for the great request! Hope you like how I wrote it.

Warnings: smut

Plot: The Reader is a high-rank officer in a Prison. The Master gets brought in and let’s say things get heated between the two.

It was a quiet day at the prison. Quieter than most, considering it was one of the most secure prisons of the universe. Literally. 

You were proud to be in such a high-rank position. You had worked hard to become an officer, leaving your home planet and your family to pursue a career that wasn't exactly safe. Your parents opposed strongly to your choice at the beginning but they couldn't stop you and as soon as a job was offered to you at the prison of Satellite 22, you had packed your bags and left. 

Fast forward ten years and you were sitting at your desk in your nice office. Your colleagues respected you and you were able to bring in criminals from all around the galaxy. The thrill of the job would never be enough for you.

The knock on your door made you look up from your paperwork. 

-Come in-

Sergeant Manay entered the room with her usual straight posture and professional attire.

-Officer Y/N. He's here- she simply stated and left the door open for you to follow.

You quickly got up from your chair. You had been waiting for this moment a long time. One of the most researched criminals of the whole universe had finally been caught. There were voices about him, of how incredibly dangerous and psychotic he was. You had seen all sorts of things really, nothing surprised you anymore but you had to admit, you were very much curious to see this one. The Master. 

Considering everything you had heard about him, you weren't at all prepared to see that he looked...rather normal.

He was sitting in his jail, head hanging low, a purple jacket on and some hideous socks visible from his dusty shoes. 

Sergeant Manay nodded at you, clearing your doubts. Alright then, you thought. After all, if you had learned one thing from this job, it was that first impressions lie.

-So, you must be the famous Master-

Hearing your voice, the Master slowly raised his head. Inexplicably, his dark eyes made a shiver run down your spine. He seemed to notice, cause a smirk slowly pulled at his lips. 

-You know who I am? I'm flattered- he said straightening his back.

-Impossible not to- you said. -There are warrants for your arrest pretty much all around the universe-

His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. He got up and adjusted his jacket.

-What can I say? I'm a wanted man- he chuckled. -Get it? -

You narrowed your eyes. That man looked nothing like a dangerous psychopath. Nonetheless, you dismissed Sergeant Manay with a nod and she left.

-What's your name? - the Master asked, leaning against the bars.

Criminals don't usually ask that. Criminals don't usually ask questions at all. They're too focused on planning their escape and threaten the guards to kill them as soon as they stepped out.

You eyed him suspiciously but answered his question.

-Y/N-

-Pretty name- he smiled. -Say, Y/N, what do you guys do around here for fun? -

You smiled amusedly. -People like me put people like you behind the bars for a very very long time. And people like you...rotten-

The Master looked as amused as you. His grin was starting to make you lose your patience. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this.

-Sounds nice- he said. -And I suppose, you're the one in charge-

-And you're the one who blew up eight planets in a week-

-That's a personal record- he bragged getting his face closer to the bars. 

-Why would you do that? - you asked. You never expected criminals to answer honestly to your questions but you always felt the need to ask why. To commit certain crimes requires a pretty serious reason. It can be either desperation or greed or revenge. 

The Master simply shrugged.

-Why not? -

You blinked, astounded. 

-Because people died -

He rolled his eyes like you were exaggerating.

-You humans, always so sensitive- he said drawing out the s.

Your eyes snapped to his.

-How do you know I'm human? -

-Your name. It's an earth name- he specified. -You're very far away from home-

-You too- you bit back. He wasn't the only one who could play this game.

His eyes darkened.

-I know a lot about you, Master- you said taking a step toward the jail.

-For example? - he challenged. You usually wouldn't have wasted so much of your time on someone like him but you found yourself unable to walk away. You wanted to prove him wrong and wipe that smirk off his face.

-I know you're a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey- you started, your faces getting closer. -I know your home was destroyed and you've been travelling in a TARDIS since then and I know you're responsible for the death of millions- you could feel his warm breath against your face and he looked at you intently. -And I know you're gonna stay here for a long long time- 

The Master scanned your face and remained serious for a while. Then his lips twisted up again. -Oh Y/N, you're being such a flirt- he said narrowing his eyes.

You scoffed and took a step back. 

-Enjoy your stay- you said walking back to your office.

-I certainly will- you heard him say.

The next few weeks proceeded similarly. Every time you walked past his cell, he had a flirty comment for you or a bad joke you really didn't need to hear. Sometimes he sang your name when you walked past him, making you roll your eyes. Some other times you felt like getting inside his jail and kick his ass. He was such a brat but something about him made him interesting in your eyes. Not that you'd ever admit to that. He was a bastard and a criminal. He didn't deserve your attention. Although sometimes he pushed just the right buttons to make you snap. You had a lot of rows and your colleagues told you many times to just drop it. You weren't used to reacting like that to a prisoner and he was beginning to distract you. You caught yourself thinking about him way too often than normal. It didn't help that your office was directly in front of his cell. A few times he caught you staring and he had smiled smugly and sent you a wink. You had turned red and rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance.

During a night shift, while you were walking in the dark corridor to get back to your office, you saw him gripping the bars of his jail.

-Looking good Y/N. Is that a new uniform? -

You summoned all your strength to ignore him and kept walking.

-Oh come on, what's the rush? Are you scared of the big bad Master? -

At those words, you stopped in your track and turned abruptly.

-Why would I be scared of you? - you snapped.

The Master shrugged. -Well, you did say I killed millions of people-

You walked toward him.

-I've been doing this job for a long while and I'm not going to get distracted by some bored, psychotic criminal. You're not worth my time any more than anybody else in here- you spat pointing at him with rage.

-Oh but I am- he said with a velvet voice. -And I'm way more interesting than any of these low-class criminals. And way more handsome, too-

What a pompous snake.

-You're so sure of yourself, you think you're in charge even behind bars. I got news for you, you're not the one in charge, Master-

-Oh, I like how you say my name- he almost moaned, his body so close to the bars you could touch him. -I have to warn you, though, if you keep talking to me like that- his eyes trailed over your body from head to toe. -I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions- 

You kept your eyes on him, forcing yourself not to blush.

Come on, don't be weak!

-I know what you're doing-

-And what am I doing exactly? - he asked resting his forehead against the bars and smiling that wicked smile of his. His hands were particularly distracting, clenching and unclenching around the metal. 

-I just think you look a bit stressed. I'd like to help you out with that- he said, wetting his lips. Your eyes were like glued on them, they looked so soft you couldn't help but wonder what they would taste like.

-Besides- he added. -I always liked a woman in uniform-

-Okay, that's it- 

Your hands quickly fumbled around your belt to get the keys to his cell and you pulled him out gripping his jacket. He had an excited smile on his lips as you led him toward the closest cupboard.

You slammed the door behind you and he laughed.

-Someone's in a rush- 

-Shut up- you said before crushing your lips against his.

He tasted like something bitter-sweet and...blood? 

You had actually bitten him. You pulled away from him and watched as he licked his bleeding lip with dilated pupils. 

The Master saw the hesitation on your face and pulled you in again, his tongue pushing past your lips.

-Don't overthink this- he whispered breathlessly when he pulled away for air. His eyes were so deep and so hungry you didn't even care you were shagging a super dangerous criminal in the closet of the prison you worked for. 

To show him you weren't going to back out of this, you pushed him to make him sit on a chair and you straddled him. The Master looked up at you with his lips parted, placing his hands on your waist.

You kissed him again, your hands in his hair, your hips pushing down on his. He groaned against your lips, opening his mouth even more and you sucked at his bottom lip.

-You're always so confident, so sure of yourself- you said unbuckling his belt as you tried to calm your breath while his was coming out hot and rushed. -Well, Master...who's in charge now? - 

And just like that, you felt your back hit the door, the Master pinning you against it.

-I am- he said, his hand unbuttoning your trousers and slowly getting inside your panties. You threw your head back, feeling his warm fingers grazing at your clit.

-Oh, my God-

-Not quite- he smirked.

-You're such a-ah!-

He had pushed his index inside of you, moving it slowly.

-I like the sounds you make- he said kissing your neck.

You relished in the feeling of his finger pushing further inside you and you gasped as he reached just the right spot.

Your hands clenched around his jacket, pulling him closer against you, feeling his growing erection against your leg. Not wanting to give up control completely, you moved your leg and he moaned against your shoulder. His finger stilled inside you and he soon took it out. You glanced at him in disappointment but he took his cock out of his pants and pushed it inside you. 

You tried not to scream in pleasure at the feeling of his huge member moving in and out, establishing a pace.

-Don't hold back darling- he panted against your ear. -I want everyone to hear you-

You bit your lips hard, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

His thrusts increased in speed and you could feel the heat in the pit of your stomach growing.

-Come on, darling. Come on- he urged you, placing his hand beside your head on the wooden door.

It was all too much: his cock sliding in and out of you and the noises he was making, god, the noises. You were gonna lose it and at that point, you didn't care. You didn't care if the whole prison, hell if the whole galaxy heard you.

When his thumb moved to circle your clit, that's when you gave up. You threw your head back and screamed his name as you came.

That was enough to make him cum too and he gripped your waist tighter as his hips slammed into you frantically. 

The Master rested his forehead against your shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

You could practically see stars under your closed eyelids. You opened them as the Master slid out of you and tucked himself back in his trousers. He looked up at you with a mischievous smile.

-You look divine right now- he said pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You would have told him he looked like a fucking masterpiece if you could have managed to speak at all.

-Well, it was very nice to meet you Y/N- he said taking a few steps back. -This was fun- he winked. -I hope I'll see you again-

-What...- 

Around him, four walls started to materialize with a strange noise.

-Master?! -

-Goodbye, darling! -

The last thing you heard was his laugh as the walls around him disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

-Y/N? Is...everything alright in there? -

You heard the cleaning lady ask with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. After this, you were totally gonna get fired.

[timeagainreviews]

Reappraising Companions

Years after having watched every available episode of Doctor Who, I've had plenty of opportunities to rewatch episodes time and time again. As with most movies and television, I've found revisiting certain stories and eras has caused me to see them in a different light. A story I may have once reviled is suddenly more interesting. I even came to appreciate Peter Davison's performance as the Fifth Doctor for its subtle nature. But what about companions? Are there any companions I didn't care for at first, which I've softened toward over time? That is the question I wish to explore.

Below I've chosen a selection of companions of whom I had initially disliked for various reasons. They span across multiple eras and both the classic and modern versions of the show. With each companion, I have endeavoured to be fair in my reappraisal, but this doesn't mean I've changed my mind. I would also like to state that none of these appraisals are about the actors. My goal is to evaluate companions by the way they were written. The performance will come secondary.

1. Danny Pink

I chose Danny Pink to kick this list off because he is the reason I am writing this article in the first place. Recently, I took to rewatching a selection of Danny Pink episodes, in hopes that I may find something I didn't initially see. When Samuel Anderson was cast as Danny, I was excited. I've always been a big fan of male companions. They offer a different dynamic to the TARDIS that we don't often get to experience. However, in the wrong hands, they can be exhausting. Enter Steven Moffat.

When Steven Moffat took the reins of Doctor Who, he introduced us to Rory Williams. A smart, loyal, and combative male companion, not at all enamoured with the Doctor's mystique. At his worst, Rory was made to compete with the Doctor for Amy's affection. At his best, Rory held the Doctor accountable for the lives he brought aboard the TARDIS. With Danny, I felt like this is what Moffat was trying to do again, but this time, it wasn't as successful.

When we're introduced to Danny, we watch him and Clara fumble over their words like teenagers. It's meant to be cute, but their chemistry is non-existent. It feels like watching an episode of Coupling, in that it's painful and causes me to scan the room for exits. Their adorkable awkwardness is supposed to endear us to their relationship, but it seems forced. This is compounded when the Doctor enters the equation. Forcing Danny to fight for something very few of us in the audience believe in the first place.

Once again we find the male companion being forced to compete with the Doctor for the affection of a woman. But in this instance, instead of holding the Doctor accountable, Danny seems to hold the Doctor in contempt. Coming from his own history of military training and PTSD, Danny projects all of his inner struggles onto the Doctor. Which is unfortunate, as Danny's inner turmoil is his most humanistic trait. This wouldn't be the first time in Moffat's era where the Doctor's nature as a hero was called into play. The problem with Danny's appraisal of the Doctor as a general, barking orders, is that he's wrong. And we as an audience know it.

Not only do we know it, but so does the Doctor. The Doctor even gets a character arc over the identity crisis Danny gives him, wherein he realises Danny is wrong about him. Danny, however, never comes around to the Doctor's side. Even in his final moments on screen, he remains combative with the Doctor, in an exhausting refusal to grow as a character. We're supposed to believe he's come to some sort of character growth of self-acceptance by sacrificing his chance at a new life, for the life of a boy he mistakenly killed. Instead, he carries the same chip on his shoulder to his grave.

Danny is a companion wholly failed by writing. Even at his most heroic, it seems in service of making the Doctor look like a buffoon. His mimicking a soldier while yelling in the Doctor's face is embarrassing for everyone involved. Imagine this is your boyfriend meeting your friends. You would be mortified by his behaviour. Now imagine you have to lie about hanging out with your friends because it might make your boyfriend upset. Now imagine this friend is a very dashing person who constantly puts the lives of others before him. Danny and Clara's courtship is a romance by gaslight.

2. Clara Oswald

Clara is a whole other can of worms. I could probably dedicate an entire article to her character. I should clarify that my initial dislike for her character is somewhat mired in personal disappointment. By the time Clara was introduced, we had seen a string of modern human companions. We got the occasional tertiary companions from the future, such as Captain Jack or River Song. But we hadn't had a main companion from the past, future, or another planet. So when Jenna Coleman was introduced as Oswin Oswald, Junior Entertainment Manager of the starliner Alaska, I was very excited. Finally, a companion from the future! I was so ready for the Doctor to go on a quest to save Oswin from the cruel fate of becoming a Dalek. What an exciting storyline that was going to be.

And then we see her as governess Clara Oswin Oswald. Ok... Well at least she's still from a different era, right? Oh, she's dead now too? Oh. Much like Moffat's Dracula, all of this great promise was suddenly dashed against the rocks of a contemporary setting. Sigh. I was so excited. What we're given in “The Bells of St. John,” is a new character with less direction than either Oswin or the governess before her. So much that Moffat had taken to literally modulating her brain with an app. Maybe she's really good with computers now? Sorry friends, much like Rose Tyler's gymnastics and Peri Brown's botany, it's never going to come up again.

And this is the biggest issue I have had with Clara Oswald. She spends most of her screen time fluctuating between what character they're writing her as this week. The writers simply didn't know what to do with her while the Doctor tried to figure out why she's so "impossible." One week she's wacky, one week she's stern, another week she's bisexual queer bait. Her characterisation is all over the charts, which sadly, tracks with her entire storyline. She's a woman, fragmented across time, and so is her personality. And don't even get me started on that impossible girl nonsense.

Steven Moffat once said in an interview that one or two people usually guess his big reveal ahead of time, but that no one had guessed Clara's. Perhaps that's because nobody's fan theory was "It's going to be absolute shite." Instead of just being a woman who gets to be her own person, she has to become the most importantest companion. She has to save the Doctor by being planted throughout his timeline, saving him from the Great Intelligence. You know, by sometimes being born as herself, and other times being born as a Time Lord. Sometimes knowing who the Doctor is, other times having no idea whatsoever. Sometimes having a name that is a play on of Oswald, or Oswin, or Clara. And at no times did it make any kind of sense.

The funny thing is, that for me at least, Clara's character doesn't really become interesting until all of that nonsense is behind her. The Clara I find most compelling is the Clara in mourning. Clara post-Danny Pink is a Clara with focus. Her mood swings seem more from a place of destructive behaviour in the wake of great loss. Watching her hold the TARDIS keys hostage above a volcano was some seriously gripping stuff. Aside from the gross digs at her appearance, I found the Twelfth Doctor's relationship with Clara far more endearing than that of the Eleventh Doctor. It may have taken them until her final moments as a companion, but they did get her right, in the end.

3. Melanie Bush

Back in 2015, I had the opportunity to meet Louise Jameson, who played Leela, my all-time favourite Doctor Who companion. I also got to meet Colin Baker, who was all charm. Also in attendance was Bonnie Langford, aka, Doctor Who's Mel. After having gotten autographs from Louise and Colin, and having circled the convention hall a few times, I decided "Sure, why not. Let's meet Bonnie Langford. It's only 10 quid for an autograph." Upon meeting her, she was a very kind woman, and even still, I was racking my brain for something nice to say about Mel. To save face, I lied a very simple lie. I said, "I really liked you in Doctor Who." She smiled, said thank you, and signed my picture. And I walked away, taking my shitty liar mouth with me.

Because the fact is, I didn't like her in Doctor Who. I found every moment she was onscreen excruciating. From her poodle haircuts, to her 80's disaster attire, to her fat-shaming the Sixth Doctor, to her constant screaming at every little thing, she depressed me. I spoke in my review of "Terror of the Vervoids," just how weird it was that we're never actually introduced to her as a character. Instead, Peri is written off, and suddenly, Mel is there, already chummy with the Doctor. You guys know Mel, she's the Doctor's friend, because we told you she was! Instead of getting to know Mel slowly, we're thrown into the deep end, forced to sink or swim within the curls of red hair piled high. Mel doesn't just come out of nowhere, she comes on strong. Fitness expert Mel here to get your fat Doctor Who loving asses into shape. Drink this carrot juice you geek pig!

Not even in Big Finish audios was I finding myself warming up to Mel. When Ace was introduced, they couldn't have pushed Mel out quicker. I found everything about Ace immediately refreshing. Here was a calm and collected badass rebel that I could get behind. It's ironic then; that it was in the Seventh Doctor era that I have begun to find something likeable in Mel. Much like Clara Oswald,  a changing of Doctors enriched my appreciation for her character. This appreciation didn't come immediately, mind you, it came about around my third or fourth watch-through of "Paradise Towers."

Perhaps it's the influence of Andrew Cartmel, but with the Seventh Doctor, I have begun to appreciate Mel in the snarkiest manner. Mel is best utilised as a commentary on the Doctor/Companion relationship. She's precocious to a fault, she chews scenery, she screams at the drop of a hat, and she is oftentimes a naive idiot. Yet in "Paradise Towers," it becomes hilarious. Like much of the 80's era of Doctor Who, there is a very "2000 AD," atmosphere to the stories, and I could easily see this as a setting for Judge Dredd to drudge through, busting skulls and filling bodies with bullets. Setting the sunshiny persona of Mel against this backdrop is so brilliant that I can't imagine another companion in this story. Where she would usually grate against me, her sharp contrast from the things happening around her is exactly why I began to soften toward her.

Not even the ire from the Kangs could shake Mel's confidence, which is oddly what makes her cool. Or "ice-hot," as they would say. For the first time, Mel's headstrong sense of self makes her a rebel. She doesn't need to follow a crowd to feel accepted. Sadly, very few writers were able to find this core to Mel, but it was enough for me to be able to look at her in a different light. I could finally look at Mel and say I did like her in Doctor Who. Even if it was just for a moment, and even if it was somewhat at her expense. From a very cynical perspective, Mel can actually be pretty fun.

4. River Song

I know a lot of you are probably aghast to see River Song on this list, but I assure you, I have my reasons, and they are not without consideration. I should begin by saying some good things about River. She's smart, she's competent, she's got a healthy grasp on her sexuality, and she's cool. Why then did I not like her very much the first few times I watched her? Well, if you hadn't noticed, the bulk of this list are characters written by Steven Moffat, and once again, it all comes down to writing.

We're first introduced to River in the Tenth Doctor two-parter "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead." At first, she's just one of a team of forgettable space scientists on an expedition. However, as she finds out the Doctor is who he is, her entire demeanour changes. Like Mel on steroids, we're given a heaping dose of "Who does this bitch think she is, being all familiar with the Doctor?" Only, instead of it lasting one episode, it's every interaction we have with her character beyond this point. Instead of getting to watch River and the Doctor grow as a couple, we're forced to watch them meet in opposite directions. It is the antithesis of "show, don't tell." Everything about the Doctor and River's relationship is implied. "You're going to love me someday," she promises. Couldn't we just see it play out naturally? Spoilers.

This idea is one that can only really be done on a show like Doctor Who, where things are wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. The problem is, this doesn't mean that the idea is worth exploring, or even successful. It's made even worse when the relationship implied is one deeper than friendship. The Doctor is famously chaste, married only to his TARDIS and what lies ahead. Because of this, the idea of a person the Doctor will someday trust enough to share his real name and eventually marry carries with it a sizeable amount of convincing. Such a huge shift in the show's dynamic requires a lot of character development. Sadly none of that is to be seen onscreen. Who is Jim the Fish? Who cares? Steven Moffat's joke of "I'll explain later," became painfully prophetic of his time as showrunner.

I've got no complaints about River being a Time Lord, or even her being the child of Amy and Rory. Those elements are fine, really. It's the way in which she is presented which I find most detrimental to her character. I never did buy into the idea that the Doctor loved her as a wife. Their wedding seemed necessary to save the universe, as opposed to a union made out of love. Any kind of enjoyment I've ever gotten out of River stems mostly out of my love for Alex Kingston's performance. Where the show fails to establish her, she more than makes up for in style and substance. I grew to like River Song, despite the show's failure to ground her properly. River grew on me as she always said she would, but by no effort on the part of the writers. River is cool because River is cool, not because it was inferred that she was.

5. Susan

If you’ve followed this blog long enough, you’ll know I’ve already mellowed on Susan. In my reviews of the First Doctor era, I’ve had mostly good things to say about her character. This doesn’t change the fact that I found her utterly irritating at first, and it feels appropriate to talk about it here.

My initial dislike for Susan is a lot like my intial dislike for Clara. A lot of it was wrapped up in my own expectations of the character. Susan is the Doctor’s granddaughter. She is a Time Lord, therefore she should also be brilliant. And we get a lot of that in her first episode. She is mysterious, she’s enigmatic, and she is brilliant. Even her teachers at school found her perplexing. But the show doesn’t continue down that line. In fact, there are times when they make Susan borderline stupid. But how much of this is clouded by my own preconceptions?

For starters, Susan wasn’t a Time Lord. At least, not then. She was just a young girl. She may have been smarter than her fellow students, but this played more into how she was raised. So when the show depicts Susan screaming at every little thing, grabbing her hair dramatically, it smashed apart my mental image of a Time Lord. I couldn’t appreciate that they had her act this way to help sell a bad effect. Oftentimes Susan, like many Doctor Who companions, had her character sacrificed to make the baddies scarier. It was a product of her time, and even still I feel her character suffers for it.

However, one of the things I have discovered through repeat viewings of the First Doctor era is the surprising amount of character development among the TARDIS crew. The Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and Susan all go through deep character development that was sadly often secondary in classic Doctor Who. Before the nature of the Doctor and companions was transient, there was a feeling of a family bond forming. Through this, I have come to find Susan to be a rather deep and sensitive person.

When it comes time to say goodbye to Susan, I can’t say I exactly agreed with the method. The Doctor locking her out and deciding she was mature enough to set out on her own felt hasty. But I would be lying if I didn’t agree that Susan had gone from a little girl to a young woman at that point. When you stop expecting Susan to be the Doctor, and allow her to be a kid, she grows on you instantly.

6. Adric

Let's be honest; it's not really original to hate on Adric. It's nothing new to point out what a bad companion he is, but here we are. Something I constantly endeavour to do on this blog is to be fair. One of my biggest complaints about the Doctor Who fandom is the proprietary attitude people take toward the fandom. The "I don't like it; therefore you shouldn't like it," attitude spat with such vitriol is one of the worst parts about being in the Doctor Who fandom. So when you say "Adric is my favourite companion," I'm not devising an argument for how wrong you are, it's fine. Like who you like. This doesn't mean I'm not also thinking in my head "What? Why?" Because I honestly, without malice, do not understand.

The most I ever enjoyed Adric, was in his introductory story "Full Circle." Setting him against a group of fellow Alzarians dilutes his lesser qualities. In fact, when paired with Varsh, he almost seems likeable. Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Varsh, and it's downhill from there. We're forced to watch a contrarian boy genius butt heads with the Doctor while he waddles around in a toddler's outfit while showing off his pound shop sheriffs badge for "mathematical excellence," to anyone who will listen. Adric is so obnoxious that he makes Wesley Crusher seem likeable in contrast.

However, it's not just his contrarian nature that makes me despise Adric, he's also disloyal to the Doctor and his friends. He's so susceptible to bad ideas as long as they a presented logically, that I've dubbed him the Ben Shapiro of the TARDIS. He's a smarmy little shit who believes himself superior to women, and he's really got no justification for his ill-placed self-confidence. Constantly demanding respect while giving very little reason to deserve it, he's like a poster child for incels. To make matters worse, he's oftentimes wrong and easily duped into taking the side of evil, turning him into more of a liability than an asset.

Recently, the idea that the Thirteenth Doctor could save someone from sacrificing themselves by using the TARDIS at the last moment to save them came under fire. "Why didn't the Doctor do this for Adric?" they said, forgetting conveniently when the Twelfth Doctor did the exact same thing in "Into the Dalek." But yes, why indeed? Why would the Doctor ever let a duplicitous, argumentative braggart die by their own stupid need to solve a math problem? My headcanon is that the Doctor got better at flying the TARDIS. The real reason is that people hated his character. The silence over the credits after Adric dies isn't out of respect for the character. The real reason is that the BBC couldn't secure the rights to Kool and the Gang's "Celebrate Good Times," before it aired.

Listen, I am not unsympathetic toward Matthew Waterhouse. He never should have been given such a big role, considering his utter lack of ability at the time. I imagine it was his own insecurity that fuelled his on-set antics. Giving unsolicited advice to veteran actors is cringey, but also the actions of a young and naive boy, in over his head. I know I said I was going to try and treat the performance as secondary, but in this case, it goes hand in hand. He has the stage presence of a fake. Every moment he's onscreen is disingenuous. The fact that he is present at the death of my favourite Doctor, stinking up the scene is genuine pain to me. If he has been made better in Big Finish, I've not yet heard it. As of now, there is nothing I've seen of Adric that has changed my opinion. But I'm glad if he makes you happy.

[foxcantswim]

Take My Hand 3 | Thoschei

Take My Hand | Thoschei The Doctor convinces the Master to leave Gallifrey with her | 13 x Dhawan!Master https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059720/chapters/55229311

Well... I don't know how often I will update this. But here we go again!

Thank you for reading! I love you all! ( WE NEED MORE SOFT THOSCHEI GUYS )

Chapter 3: The Master gets jealous

-x-

The Master trudged along behind the Doctor. After spending a few weeks with her and the humans, he was already becoming tired of their antics. He had come to the conclusion that they were extremely reckless - always getting into unnecessary danger. He always put minimal effort in and allowed the Doctor to do all the saving. They were her friends after all.

The Doctor had taken them all on their third joint adventure. She wanted to travel with all of them together. Get used to eachother. The Master wasn't too keen on it. But it was either that or stay in the TARDIS for endless hours with nothing to do. He had already painted and re-painted the Judoon almost two hundred times. And he had already thrown every book in library at least twice.

The TARDIS was becoming annoyed and her hatred grew every day towards the Master. He laughed it off.

"Come on, gang!" the Doctor announced as they walked down one of the dusty streets. The planet they had landed on looked pretty Earth-like. The only distinctive feature was the fact that the planet's sky was incredible. There were five moons and many stars scattered the night sky, pink and purple lights swirled around them.

"What's up with the sky, Doc?" Graham questioned.

"This planet is trapped within a vortex," she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, "Energy from the time vortex move in and out of the stars. This planet's time moves slower than others, so-"

"So the nights last up to three weeks," the Master finished, walking on ahead with his hands in his pockets, "Honestly, Doctor... You should tell them what the planet is like before you take them to it," he muttered. He had been to this planet countless times. It was sort of a getaway planet - a place to go and forget about everything else in the universe.

There were multiple buildings, all having a similar look to skyscrapers. And a couple human-like residents were roaming the streets.

The Doctor sighed, "This planet is also famous for perception filters," she explained before following the Master, "Everyone here is wearing one."

"So... They don't actually look like humans?" Yaz questioned.

"They're all from different worlds, different universes," the Doctor smiled as she waved at a woman who waved back in response, "All gathered here to take a breather. This place is also famous for having Earth features."

"Like selling awful human food. And playing awful human music," the Master said with disgust, "I mean honestly, do you lot cope with all those songs about love and break ups?!"

The Doctor smiled at the Master's complaints. She couldn't exactly disagree with that.

The three humans all looked around, quite surprised at how well the perception filter was working.

"Where are we exactly heading, Doctor?" Ryan asked, staying by the Doctor's side as they all followed the Master who was a few steps ahead of them.

"I just thought we could all take a break and explore. There are a few gift shops and you know how much I love a good gift shop," she smiled.

The Master had other intentions. He wanted to take over this infuriating planet... But he couldn't. Every time he had been here his intentions were cleared. The air on this planet was different to any other planet he had visited, calming his mind - making him forget about the drums momentarily.

He also wanted to visit a certain place...

The Doctor knew the Master had a certain liking towards this planet. She knew where he wanted to go, "Master?" she asked.

He stopped walking to turn and look at her as she approached.

"You sure you want to go there?" secretly she hoped he would say yes. Because she loved that place, too.

"Of course!" he exclaimed with a smirk, "The night is still young- Well! It will be young for the next few weeks! So why not?"

"Where-" Graham started.

"You'll see..." the Master didn't want to listen to them talk any longer, "Not much further."

The Doctor reached into her pocket and pulled out three flat devices - almost as thin as paper. She handed them to her friends, "These will let you purchase whatever you want."

"Seriously, Doctor?" the Master asked in confusion, "Who knows what they'll end up bringing onto the TARDIS?!"

"It'll be fine," she assured, "I take full responsibility if you regenerate in the process," she smirked before offering her hand to him.

He took it and they began to walk side by side towards their destination. The Doctor ignored his worries, continuously having to remind him that they aren't reckless at all.

Ryan had barely taken twenty steps before he kicked over a bucket of fresh fruit... He already had to use his device to pay for the damages.

"Reckless," the Master reminded her with an annoyed expression.

"Only a little," she gave him a shy smile.

-x-

The team passed by a few casinos and bars as they grew near to where the Master was leading them, "Do you always have to park the TARDIS so far away?" he groaned.

"If we park it close, then we won't be able to explore properly," she tried to reason.

Ryan had shoved pointless statues into his backpack that he, Yaz and Graham had purchased along the way. The Master tried to tell them that if they wanted figures of Daleks and such, he could just use his TCE to shrink a real one and give it to them.

The Doctor quickly declined for them.

The air grew cold as they rounded a corner, neon lights were scattered down the street ahead - illuminating the faces of residents and visitors who were heading to the same place the Master wanted to go.

They soon approached a large waterfall, "Just through here," the Master said.

"Th-Through there?" Yaz asked.

"Yes," he replied, "Through here."

"We'll get wet, mate!" Ryan exclaimed, not too happy about going through it.

The Master's patience was thin, "It's a dry waterfall."

"Dry waterfall?" Graham asked, "Looks pretty wet to me, Masty."

A look of confusion and disbelief spread across the Master's face, "D-Did you just call me M-?"

"Dry waterfall," the Doctor nodded, "I promise you, it's not like your average waterfall. Completely dry," she looked over to see some people walking through, "Trust me," she squeezed the Master's hand before stepping aside with him staying close - allowing Ryan, Yaz and Graham to enter.

"Woah..." they heard Ryan say on the other side, "That was proper awesome."

"Doctor?!" the Master exclaimed, "Did you- He- He called me Ma-!"

She silenced him with a kiss to the cheek, "I know," she smirked, "Doc. Masty. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Not at all!" he assured her, "My poor brains can't deal with this," a sigh escaped him, unsure of how much longer he could cope around these humans.

"I think they're starting to like you," she assured.

He shook his head, "Can't have that. Humans liking me? Not my style," his free hand reached into his pocket, "You think if I used this on someone, they would hate me again?" he smirked as he waved the TCE around.

"No," she warned, grabbing it from him, "You will not use this. Ever."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

He pouted, "My suspicions were correct..."

"About what?" she wondered.

His pout turned into a sinister smile as he quickly grabbed the TCE from her, "You are extremely boring," he pocketed the device before pulling the Doctor through the waterfall.

Ryan, Yaz and Graham were a few metres ahead, patiently waiting.

"Thought you drowned or something," Graham smiled as the pair approached them.

"It's a dry wa-"

"Dry waterfall, yeah I know, mate," Graham quickly replied.

The Master was getting quite annoyed by the amount of times he had been cut off recently. Thankfully, this place had really strong drinks and the Master was looking forward to them.

They were all standing in a cave now, a few lights dotted along the walls in order for people to actually see where they were going.

"Lets go over the rules, shall we?" the Master started, moving to the side of the cave to allow other people to pass by.

"Rules?" Ryan questioned.

The Master ignored him, "First things first. Do not go around kissing random aliens. Some of these people are poisonous to humans..." he paused, "You know what? Kiss who you want. Forget that rule. Official rule number one! Do not buy anything black market. You don't know what you're doing and what you're buying. Which brings us on to rule two. Only buy drinks you know the name of. Anything else is most likely from a different planet. I can barely deal with you lot having one head. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like if you grew another."

"Ask me if you want to try anything else. I will let you know if it's safe for humans," the Doctor added.

"Rule three. Do not talk to me after I've had a drink. Because I will kill you," he promised.

"He won't," the Doctor rolled her eyes.

"What is this place?" Yaz wondered.

"It's like a club-"

"It is not a club, Doctor!" the Master corrected, "There is music, dance floors, bars. But it is much more than a club. Each room has a specific purpose. So don't go drinking in a 'no drinking' room. Because you will be imprisoned. Don't go in the pool, either. That's rule number four."

Ryan questioned, "What? Is it like poisonous or somethin'?"

"No. I just don't want you to get the TARDIS wet," he groaned, "The Doctor would make me clean it up."

The Doctor nudged the Master's side, "That's enough," she looked at her fam, "Just have fun. But yeah. Don't drink anything you don't know about. Earth drinks are one hundred percent safe. If we get split up, don't worry about it. The devices I gave you can track entities with two hearts. So... Us two."

The five of them began to head to the entrance, flashing neon lights illuminated the space in the distance.

"Oh, there's also a black hole! Try not to fall in it!" the Master smirked as the music grew louder.

"Black hole!?" the three humans exclaimed.

"Perfectly safe," the Doctor assured them.

-x-

The team had indeed gotten split up. The two Time Lords expected this to happen. It had barely been ten minutes before they had gone their own ways.

The room was wide and filled with people. The ceiling was high and in the centre of the dance floor was a huge black hole. It was in a giant stasis field in order to stop it from activating.

The Master often wondered what sort of maniac would build this place around a black hole. He was so tempted to steal the Doctor's sonic and go and deactivate the field. His patience was wearing thin as he sat at on the bar stool, sipping away at some random drink from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius. It was a light green colour and it bubbled slightly from the high temperature it possessed.

It was disgusting.

He hated it.

But the Doctor enjoyed it, so he decided to give it a chance.

Speaking of the Doctor... She had been gone for quite some time. She said that she saw an old friend of hers and wanted to go and talk with them.

He allowed the burning sensation of the drink to pass through his mouth once more before closing his eyes. The music was quickly drowned at.

'You get lost?'

'Sorry, sorry!' she apologised, 'Got a bit carried away. I'm heading over to you now. Buy me a drink?'

'Always so needy,' his eyes snapped open and then proceeded to order for the Doctor. His fingers tapped on the bar in a familiar four beat tune as he waited for her. Honestly, he would much rather listen to the infuriating drums in his head than the Earth music that surrounded him - echoing off the walls.

He knew something was off as soon as they landed on this planet... He'd assumed that the Doctor had felt it too... But she hadn't. The air was still calm. But not as calm as it usually is. There was an unwanted tension that had surrounded him the entire time. The Doctor already had enough on her shoulders and he didn't to worry her anymore.

Something was here that wasn't supposed to be.

He soon forgot about the threat as one of the beats from the drums in his head was louder, this caught him off guard. The loud bang acted as a warning. He turned on his stool to what had caused his head to ache.

The Master's hand quickly tightened around his glass, unamused at the sight. His blood boiled, his hearts beat fast.

Some lowlife human from an Earth colony from the year - Oh, the Master didn't care about him! He could tell by the way the human leaned in close that he was flirting with the Doctor.

The man had taken the Doctor's hand and kissed the back of it. The Master quickly downed the rest of his drink before turning to slam the glass down onto the bar. He quickly looked back at the man and the Doctor again, his fists clenched as he watched.

Nobody touched his Doctor.

He could sense that the Doctor was uncomfortable, but she was too nice to tell him to go away.

The Master jumped off the bar stool and immediately stormed over to the pair. He quickly grabbed the Doctor's free hand and pulled her to his side. Before the Doctor could protest, his lips found hers in a heated kiss. His arms wrapped around the woman's waist protectively.

He pulled back to look down at a stunned Doctor, his eyes drifted over to the human, "You're lucky I'm not in a killing mood today," he growled, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Master..." the Doctor whispered, recovering from the kiss. Her voice bounced around his head, soothing the drumming.

He hushed her, "Shhh... I won't hurt him. As long as he leaves. Right. Now," he said, the human understood the threat.

The man grumbled to himself before heading off into the nearby crowd.

The two Time Lords stayed close, the Master's arms were still secure around the Doctor. Her arms had found their way around his neck.

'You don't need to be jealous, Koschei...' her thoughts invaded his, the drums now completely blocked out.

Her head rested on his chest as he responded, 'I'm never jealous.'

'Lies.'

The Doctor had only consumed a couple drinks since arriving. She started to sway them to the music. It was one of Earth's many slow songs from the year 2025.

'I don't dance,' the Master informed her, he wouldn't admit that he enjoyed this intimacy with her.

'Again. Lies. Your last two regenerations had a knack for it," she moved her head away so she could look into her eyes.

She felt her hearts skip a beat. The look in his eyes. Sure there was a certain emptiness to them. But she could see it. Clearly. There was a flicker of love behind all that darkness. She hadn't seen that look in his eyes in so long.

'My last two regenerations were idiots.'

'Cute idiots.'

The Master leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, hoping it would silence her.

'I can still talk in your head, you know?' she mentioned.

'Shut up, Theta.'

The Doctor stayed quiet in his head. The music was still drowned out due to their current connection. She felt like they were the only two people in the room.

The Master let his walls down. He couldn't help it. He tried to stop his darkness from washing over her, but he felt so free at this moment.

The darkness hit her hard, causing their connection to falter slightly. The Master gave her a reassuring squeeze before pulling her closer.

Her head was filled with the sights of Gallifrey burning once more. She pulled away in shock.

'You still think about it?'

Sadness. She didn't expect to see that emotion within his eyes.

'Yes,' he nodded, pulling her into a hug. The soothing double heartbeat settled the Doctor's mind.

He got annoyed at himself quickly. Annoyed that he actually felt guilty for what he did. He couldn't have just killed a couple Time Lords? No. He had to go and destroy the entire damn planet.

She hadn't forgiven him. She knew she would one day. That day was far into the future.

'Koschei... I know a small part of you regrets what you have done. I understand that. Just know that I won't leave you behind. I will help you get better.'

He decided not to respond. He remained silent for the next few minutes, just holding her. Hoping it was enough.

Their connection soon broke completely as a loud explosion invaded their ears. People started to scream and shout, the music died down and then everybody began to run for the exit.

"Aha!" the Master exclaimed, grabbing her hand, "Finally! I was wondering when the danger would make its appearance!" he sounded like an excited child opening his Christmas presents.

"Y-You knew this was going to happen!?" she asked in annoyance as they made their way to the side of the room, clear from the huge crowd.

"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor..." he started, "Is it even an adventure with you if there is no threatening monster?"

She couldn't deny that.

The Doctor convinced the Master that they needed to go and find the gang.

Their fingers remained intertwined as they began to head towards the source of the explosion.

"We do this together, okay?" the Doctor asked.

He nodded down at her, "Together."

-x-

THANKS FOR READING. YOU ARE ALL AMAZING.

Spoilers: Chapter 4 - The Master saves the Doctor's 'fam'

[shawtygonemad]

What Is This Feeling: Chapter 12

Fem!9th Doctor x Male!Rose Tyler

WITF Masterlist

The Doctor walked back into the alleyway after being laughed at by a crowd of drunks. She simply asked them if they had seen something fall from the sky recently. Then an air raid alarm went off. She had better find her human.

"Ross," she called out into the empty alleyway. Realizing she was alone, the Time Lord let out a huff. "You know, one day, just one day, maybe, I'm going to meet someone who gets the whole don't wander off thing. Nine hundred years of phone box travel, it's the only thing left to surprise me."

Suddenly a ringing filled the air near the TARDIS. The Doctor furrowed her eyebrows.

'That's not supposed to be ringing,' the Doctor thought as she approached the phone booth phone.

As she went to pick up the phone a voice from behind startled her causing her to also drop the sonic.

"Don't answer it! It's not for you."

The Doctor turned to see a young girl dressed in ragged clothes. Fear was seen in her brown eyes.

"And how do you know that?" The Time Lord questioned.

"Cos, I do. And I'm telling you, don't answer it," the girl warned.

"Well if you know so much, tell me this: How can it be ringing?" The Doctor picked up the receiver. "It's not even a real phone. It's not connected. It's not-" the Doctor paused when she turned back to the girl who was now gone. Her brows furrowed once more as she spoke into the phone.

"Hello? Hello? This is the Doctor speaking. How can I help you," she asked sarcastically to who she thought was no one?

"Mummy? Mummy," a child's voice answered.

"Who is this? Who's speaking," she asked even more confused. This was impossible!

"Are you my mummy," the child asked.

"Who is this," the Doctor asked more firmly.

"Mummy?"

"How did you ring here? This isn't a real phone. It's not wired up to anything."

"Mummy?"

Before the Doctor can respond once again the dial tone sounded. That was weird, and not the good kind. The Doctor knocked on the door of the time machine in hopes that is where Ross went.

"Ross? Ross, are you in here," she asked into the depths of the dark TARDIS. There was no response. That's when she heard a loud noise at the end of the alley. Instincts kicked in and she bolted towards the sound.

The Doctor followed to sound down the street. She noticed a family exiting the back of them home into the cellar to take shelter from the air raid. As they were leaving, she also noticed Nancy and a group of rugged looking children enter from the front. They must be scavenging for a meal. Perhaps she should join them.

As they started to get settled and still distracted the Time Lord slinked in and found an empty seat at the table. When Nancy finished carving the food slices of meat were being passed around. The kids each thanking Nancy politely for getting them this dinner.

"Thank you, Miss," One boy said.

"Thank you, Miss," Another said.

"Thank you, Miss."

"Thank you, Miss," the Doctor joined in with a grin.

The children gasped while panicking. Nancy tried to calm them.

"It's alright. Everyone stay where you are!" She instructed them.

"Good here, innit?" She smiled as she continued to fix herself a plate. "Who's got the salt?"

"Back in your seats, " Nancy informed them. "She shouldn't be here either."

"So," the Doctor started, "You lot, what's the story?"

"What do you mean," one of the boys asked, confused.

"You're homeless, right? Living Rough?" She asked nonchalant.

"Why do you want to know? Are you a copper?" Another boy questioned.

"Of course I'm not a copper! What's a copper going to do with you lot anyways? Arrest you for starving? I make it to 1941. You lot shouldn't even be in London! You should've been evacuated to the country by now."

"It's better on the streets! Nancy always finds us the best food," the children agreed.

"So that's what you do, Nancy," the Doctor said to the young woman.

"What is," she asked confused.

"As soon as the siren goes, you find a big fat family meal still warm on the table with everyone down in the air raid shelter and Bingo!" The Doc exclaimed. "Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London town. Puddings for all, as long as the bombs don't get you."

"Something wrong with that," Nancy bit back, ready for a fight.

"Wrong with it? It's brilliant," She laughed. "I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End Musical."

"Why'd you follow me," Nancy asked exasperated.

"I want to know what that phone rang when it wasn't hooked up," the Doctor jumped to the point.

"I did you a favor," she stated.

"Great, thanks," the alien said sarcastically. "And I want to find a blonde in a union jack. I mean a specific one. I didn't just wake up this morning with a craving." 'Liar,' her inner voice said. "Anyone see a man like that?"

Nancy grabbed the Doctor's place much to her protest.

"You took 2 slices. No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you leave," She bite off quickly.

"Actually yes." The Doc said as she got up from the table. "Anything fall from the sky? Probably about a month ago, but not a bomb! Wouldn't have exploded, and just buried itself into the ground. It would look something like this," The doctor pulled out a picture of what the ship looks like.

Suddenly a child voice sounded out. "Mummy?"

Chaos began, as scared kids quickly got up from the table and found an exit to escape to. The Doctor was trying to speak to the child, but Nancy stopped her. She claimed that if you're touched you become just like him. Nancy quickly made her exit as the Doctor opened the front door to find nothing.

After a short period of searching the Doctor found the kids at Nancy's hideout. She needed more information from Nancy if she was going to figure out what was going on. Thankfully, Nancy agreed to lead her to someone who could help. The Doctor. She internally groaned at the idea of having to meet another version of herself again. Reluctantly she venture on alone since Nancy refuse to enter. She told the Doctor that she lost her little brother during an air raid, and just couldn't handle what was waiting inside.

As she entered the ward she started to look around. She was shocked to find every bed occupied with a very still patient. After a quick scan of her sonic she realized that these things were human, but how was the gas mask fused to their face? It looked like her answer would come soon after discovering Doctor Constantine who was very sick and claimed to be dying. Much like the patients he seemed to somehow have head trauma, a collapsed chest, and a scar on the back of his hand. It was a domino affected. Only one victim was injured at first, then suddenly everyone he touched fell to the same injuries. The final phase is growing a gas mask which fuses to the face.

"You must find Nancy, again," Doctor Constantine choked. "It was her brother. She knows more than she's saying. She won't tell me, but she mi..migh…might…mummy? Are you my m-m-mummyyy," he cried as a gas mask grew from his mouth and fused to his face.

"Hello?" a voice came from the corridor.

The Doctor quickly stumbled into the corridor. She needed to warn these people to get out. Quickly turning around she bumped into a tall, handsome man. However, next to him was her beautiful human. She was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing he was okay.

"Good evening," the unknown man said. "Hope we're not interrupting. Jack Harkness," he extended his hand while sending the alien a charming, flirtatious grin. Hesitantly the Doctor shook his hand. "I've been hearing all about you on the way over."

"He knows," Ross said to her. "I had to tell him about us being Time Agents."

"And it's a real pleasure to meet you, Miss Spock," Jack spoke again.

"Miss Spock," she asked amused as she looked at Ross.

"What was I supposed to say? You don't have a name! Don't you ever get tired of Doctor? Doctor Who?" Ross rambled on.

"9 centuries in, I'm coping," she said sarcastically. "Where have you been? We're in the middle of a London Blitz! It's not a good time for a stroll!"

"Who's strolling? I went by Barrage Balloon! Only way to see an air raid," he said smugly.

"What!?" She exclaimed.

Ross brushed her off, "So what's a Chula Warship?"

"Chula?" The Doctor was so confused. What the hell is going on? "What kind of Chula ship landed here?"

"What," Jack questioned, distracted.

"He said it was a warship," Ross injected. "He stole it, parked it somewhere out there, somewhere a bomb's going to fall on it unless we make him an offer."

The Doctor crossed her arms and stared hard at the new man. She did not get a good feeling from him or this situation. What kind of game was he playing at?

"What kind of warship," she questioned.

"What does it matter? It's got nothing to do with this," he said wildly as he gestured to the gas masked patients.

"This," the doctor pointed at the patients," started at the bomb site. It's got everything to do with it! What kind of warship?"

"An ambulance," Jack exclaimed. "Look!"

The man proceeded to project a holograph image from his wristband of the machine they had previously been following.

"It's what chased you through the time vortex. It's space junk! I wanted to kid you it was valuable. It's empty. I made sure of it! Nothing but a shell. I threw it at you. I saw your time travel vehicle, love the retro look, by the way, nice panels." The Doctor couldn't help but slightly smile proudly at that compliment. "I threw it to you as bait."

"Bait," Ross asked.

"I wanted to sell it to you, and then destroy it before you found out it was junk," Jack explained.

"You said it was a warship," Ross accused.

"They have ambulances in the war," Jack defended. "It was a con. I was conning you! That's what I am, a con man. I thought you two were Time Agents. You're not, are you?"

"Just a couple more freelancers," Ross told him smugly.

"Oh. I should have known," Jack shook his head in disbelief. "The way you guys were blending in with the local colour. I mean, Flag Boy was bad enough, but you, Biker Bitch?" He laughed. "Anyway, whatever's happening here has got nothing to do with that ship."

The Doctor started to pace while thinking. What could be happening here? How is it possible for this sickness to simply pass through touch and not be air born? How do the other victims also receive the same injuries as the first victim?

"Human DNA is being rewritten," She said offhandedly.

"What do you mean," Ross questioned.

"I don't know," the Doctor stopped pacing to look at him. "Some kind of virus converting human beings into these things. But why? What's the point?"

Suddenly all of the patients sat up in their beds and turned to look at them.

"What's going on," Ross asked creeped out.

"I don't know," the Doctor said slowly as she started to steer Ross behind her.

"Mummy," they said.

"Don't let them touch you!" The Doctor instructed as she led the men back.

"Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy."

This isn't good.

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (6/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Stop looking at me.

The multi-function table is loaded with pastries, fruit, and more bagels than Elsa remembers being in existence. Kristoff, Eugene, and Rapunzel all have their plates in front of them - Rapunzel's somehow the most full - and are conversing amicably with him.

The space is not large but it was designed to give an open, inviting feel. She had created it to make everyone feel welcome the second they entered the room and it seems her design has done just exactly that. She never once considered that could be a detriment until now.

“Elsa!” Rapunzel jumps up like she hadn't talked to her just moments before in the atrium. The rest of the eyes in the room track to her immediately. She does her best to ignore him. 

“I don't recall having a meeting scheduled this morning.” She feels that she is dripping on the stone-tile floor. “You will have to excuse my tardiness.” 

She doesn’t flinch meeting his gaze even as mascara stings her eyes. She bets it is running down her cheeks, too. To his credit he keeps his composure despite her rain-soaked appearance. Except not to his credit, because shouldn’t even be here. Of all the entitled bullshit she has ever encountered… 

She crosses her arms and looks at her employees.

“Thank you all for entertaining our guest at the expense of your other tasks, but you may go now. I will take it from here.” 

They get the point.

The trio are all gracious as they take their plates and leave (all of them grabbing a bit more from the generous spread before ducking out sheepishly). Elsa gives them her best facsimile of a smile as they exit. She shuts the door behind them with a definitive thud (though she knows that will do little to keep them from eavesdropping) before turning back to the root of this entire problem. The idea of her staff listening in makes her even more irritable. She hates being the center of attention. 

Still, she turns and meets his gaze. “Mister Westergaard.” 

He smiles. “Hans.”

He is seated on a cushioned bench that was custom built for the space. She half expects him to rest his elbows on the table and cradle his chin in his hands with his patronizing tone. She stiffens a bit, but tries not to acknowledge it.

She is a professional. She will at least see what he wants.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You wouldn't let me take you to dinner so I brought you breakfast.”

She remembers their conversation after the dance, the granola bar she grabbed on the run, but also remembers her most ultimate truth and speaks the lie that must come from it: “I don't eat breakfast.”

“Everyone eats breakfast.”

“Well I don't.”

He scoffs, smile tugging at his wide mouth. 

“Doesn't take bubble baths. Doesn’t dance. Doesn't date. Doesn't eat breakfast.” He rattles off the list and she feels her ears turning pink. Had he really listened that closely? “I know for a fact that at least twenty five percent of those statements is patently untrue. It makes me wonder about the other seventy-five percent." He dangles the bait but she doesn't take it. He shifts. "So if you don't do all of those things, what do you do?”

“I run this company.”

He nods his head slowly, keeping his clever eyes trained on hers. “And you are in charge of planning all of the events put together by this company?”

It is a leading question. She knows it. Doesn't want to feed into it, but is uncertain how exactly to skate around it. 

“Anna and I are partners. Which of us take the lead on projects depends on what best fit our client's needs.” 

He leans forward then, just enough that she can smell ulterior intent even as he assumes a professional posture. 

“So your clients pick their point of contact. Interesting.”

She can feel him circling, and realization snaps his intent into place. She knows where this is leading, and a chill runs down her spine. If she had known he would be this persistent…

She presses forward, trying to correct her misstep. 

“In part. The team at E & A Events all have a say as well. It is a team operation. We all have different, but equally important, roles.” She doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but she won’t surrender even as she drips on the floor. Even if she wants to shove him out the door and force him out of her mind and life.

“Equal but different roles, fascinating. I’d love to know more.”

She had practically gift wrapped that segue for him. Instead of getting him out the door she was helping him dig trenches. She could kick herself for it.

“The inner workings really aren’t that important or interesting to most.”

“Try me. Let's start with the big blonde guy. Christopher.”

“Kristoff,” she is just a little too quick, enjoying correcting him just a bit too much, and his eyebrow flicks in amusement. “Just Kristoff.”

“My sincerest apologies. Kristoff. What does he do?”

“He supervises and creates special builds for our events. Stages, tables, altars, set pieces… he also coordinates event set-up and tear down logistics and coordinates all parties involved in that.”

“Fascinating,” he says and she believes him. He seems to hang off of her every word and that makes her nervous. “What else? What about that Rapunzel girl?”

“IT, admin, and graphic design. She can build you an event website with sign up funnels all customized around a graphics suite she creates from your concepts as well as facilitate any paper needs you may have from invitations to menus.”

He hardly lets her breathe: “And Eugene?” 

“Vendor liaison and customer service. He is excellent at negotiating with vendors to get you exactly what you want at a price that is fair for everyone as well as day-of coordinating.” 

He had already gotten a front row seat of Eugene’s flair for customer service two days ago at Eric and Ariel’s wedding. She is certain he will pick up how far she is underselling each team member and the extent of what they do just because of that, but he doesn’t mention it. He keeps right on with his line of questioning.

“Anna?” He keeps it short, like not letting her pause for even a moment, like he is quizzing her.

Two can play that game. “As Creative Director she does whatever I don't do.”

He smiles then like he knows something she doesn't, “and you. What is it that you do?”

She has given these answers ten thousand times, has recited them all from rote already, knows exactly how to answer his questions but the words catch in her throat. She cannot help but feel she is walking into some sort of trap and she does not want to be caught. She cannot afford to, for either of their sakes. 

She takes a breath. “I am Director of Operations and work closely with the designated point of contact to an event that is both seamless and completely authentic to the person or organization putting it on as well as manage several day-to-day operations.”

He leans back and rubs a hand across his chin. He smiles: “I like listening to you talk.”

Her brain scrambles. She does not understand what any of that has to do with anything. She stays professional.

“Thank you.”

“Tell me something else. Anything. Anything at all...”

The sensation of just being a specimen, like a bug under a microscope, makes her anxious. His eyes skate the length of her body and she is suddenly hyper aware of how her once shapeless dress now clings to each curve, how her eyes sting with the mascara leaking into them, how each inch of her body is still dripping on the floor. He seems to notice her discomfort with a sardonic glee, the fight she is waging to not tighten her arms over her chest and hide, to seem relaxed.

“I have told you all I can possibly think to tell you, Mister Westergaard. Why don’t you enlighten me about the specifics of what brought you here this morning?” She turns the table, done beating around the bush. She won’t be made to stand trial, barefoot, with clammy skin, in her own office. "Because if conversation is why you are here I can guarantee you there are much easier and better places you can find it."

His smile falls a bit, but he catches himself. That all too human crack bleeds through and she thinks she has hurt him. She steels her insides against remorse as his cool and controlled exterior snaps back in place.

His smile now wolfish.

“I am launching an initiative," he makes a broad sweeping gesture with his arms. "And I wasn't going to make too much of a fuss, but you all changed my mind.” 

She expects him to continue but he doesn't. Instead he just watches her. She frowns.

"Mister Westergaard I don't know if I quite understand. We plan events - not initiatives. Perhaps you would be better served with a Public Relations firm or -"

"Those pieces are already in place." He smiles, just a bit crooked as if he has anticipated this rejection and has a counter prepared. “What I need is a party, and a good one, to draw the proper attention.” 

She cannot help but wonder just what a man like this considered to be proper attention, but pushing against him isn’t getting her what she wants. So she leans in. 

“Do you have a prospective date for this event?” 

Normally these questions would be answered before she ever saw the client in person. Normally there would be boards and sketches and swatches of color and timelines and menus all laid out in coordinating binders for the initial presentation - drawn up from the initial phone consult. Her clients didn’t like wasting time. Neither does she, but here she is.

He tells her and it is all she can do not to choke on her own disbelief. 

“That is only five weeks from now!” 

“Thirty nine days to be exact.” 

“Mister Westergaard - we have other clients, other events, that is hardly enough time to properly plan something of any size or scale. 

“Please. It’s Hans,” he stands, smoothing the front of his tailored slacks as he goes and her mouth goes dry. "And you're starting to make me think you aren't interested in taking this on." 

There is something a little too casual about how he stands, too relaxed, the drift of his eyes too lazy to be anything but sharply calculated. She can see it. She may not know him well, but she knows he isn’t one to leave something to chance. She didn’t bow to his charm so now he will prod her pride. It irks her to admit that it is working. 

“It isn’t that at all.”

“Then what is it?” 

She meets his gaze. The crisp lavender button down he wears brings out the green of his eyes and she knows if she was closer she would see the gold ring around his iris. Even with several feet between them she knows just how warm he would feel if she touched him, probably even warmer than she remembers with her rain chilled skin. She knows how he smells. The memory alone is enough to make her heart pound so hard that she is sure he can see her pulse in her throat.

He steps around the decadence-covered table and her calf cramps as she steels herself to not retreat. 

“This is my job, Mister Westergaard.” 

He comes closer, hands tucked into pockets. She stays, chin lifting.

“I’m aware.”

He stops a few feet in front of her, close enough now that all he would have to do is reach out and suddenly 

Her words come out on a gust of breath. “I am not a challenge. This is not some sort of game.”

He cocks his head. “I’m not playing any game.”

She searches his face, warning bells screaming that there must be a lie, but all she finds is that blindingly sincere humanity that scrambles her thoughts.

“I have other events, other clients -”

“So is it a ‘no’”? 

She swears he doesn’t move but he feels closer. The light in his eyes shifts and she cannot think. She cannot breathe. 

She remembers what Anna said.

This is bigger than what she wants.

A client like Hans Westergaard could establish their company for life - and even if she has disconnected from the length of that concept she knows what it means for others. She knows the firm needs this as impossible and inconceivable as it seems. 

“There will be some ground rules.” The fact she keeps the shake out of her voice is a moral victory. 

His brow quirks. “You want to set rules for something that isn’t a game? Interesting.”

She feels his humor like a contagious warmth spreading through her chest and nearly chokes at the weight. This was not what she wanted, what she expected from today...

“Any relationship we have will be business only. I cannot take you on as a client if you do not agree to that.”

His wide mouth pulls to the side enough to be just shy of a smile: “Are you implying that I would engage your services for anything other than professional reasons?”

His words sends heat flooding up her neck despite her soggy state. 

The same heat she sees in his cunning eyes, the same she knows she will feel if she touches him.

He is trying to fluster her and she knows it.

He is succeeding and he knows it. 

She forces her calm: a skill she has mastered over the years. 

"I am not implying anything. If we are to work together it is important we both handle ourselves in the appropriate manner." 

“Of course. Absolutely.” He smiles, shifting his weight into a casual posture. 

She knows she should ask about budget, about the theme, about the twenty five thousand things she clarifies with clients before even thinking about accepting them for their services - but she knows that this point none of that matters. At this point - all that matters is getting him out of her offices so she can think, work, breathe. 

So she agrees, “absolutely.” 

She takes the lead and extends a hand and he glances at it with a dark twinkle in his eye. He takes it is his and just as she expects his touch burns. 

It is all she can do to not catch her breath as they shake on an agreement she can hardly understand. 

She releases his hand as soon as she can, letting it sink back to her side as naturally as possible when all she wants is to yank it back and rub her palm on the cool damp fabric of her thigh. 

But they need this.

This is something bigger than herself and her own comfort. 

She has said ‘no’ to men before, has built those walls she has contrived to protect them from herself, but still those warning bells ring. Anna knows. She knows. This one is different.

But it is only thirty-nine days. What could happen?

The way he smiles at her across the space between them answers that question even if she chooses to ignore it.

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