#make it feel like less of a triumph. But maybe she knew . Maybe she enjoyed it . Could’ve been an ego boost for her if anything to know her

[teamfortresstwo]

Hhhhhh rereading my old Business Signature posts and becoming insane about them all over again . How long was Dalilah planning to leave Kronos at the altar? Was it even really a surprise when it happened? Couldn’t have been, surely after so long together he would’ve learned to read her better than that. But maybe, maybe he never even tried . Would she be hurt to realize that?

[undiscovered-horizon]

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It is nights like these that make Coriolanus ponder the 'what ifs?' the most; it is nights like these that bring Lucy Gray back to his mind, even after all this time. Even if she's unwelcome.

If he was a better man, a little less power-hungry and a little more altruistic, he would have missed all of this. He never would have found you - a deer so susceptible to the wolf's skilful machinations. So impressionable, so devoted... And what gamesmanship it truly is to make the prey believe there's some grace in being eaten alive.

He's leaning against the doorframe leading to the nursery - awake, although you have told him to go back to sleep when your newborn daughter woke her parents up. Coriolanus is watching the scene unfold from afar, never letting even the smallest of details escape his attention. He wishes to gloat, to bathe in his own triumph.

Your face, which once smiled so brightly only for him, now smiles for another. What's strange, is that it doesn't make Coriolanus as angry or bitter as it usually would. That territorial beast residing deep in his viscera is wary but not bothered. Not yet, at least.

The baby's cries die down as you cradle her in your arms. In gentle, almost fearful, movements, you rock the newborn. Coriolanus sees your lips move but the whisper is too low for him to discern any words. Whatever it is you say to the youngest Snow, it makes her giggle and babble. The sound reminds him of your own laughter, which he so easily elicits with the smallest gestures of affection. Maybe too easily - although just as exciting, it was never a challenge.

You gently lay the baby back down in her cot. For a moment, you study her face with an expression so loving it's almost pathetic. Coriolanus feels his skin crawl. Something animalistic within him beckons the man to do truly terrible things only to ensure that it's him and him only that you look at with such adoration.

But the urge dies down when you turn away from the newborn and meet his gaze across the room. He's back in the centre of your attention, where he belongs. Suddenly, something changes in your eyes.

That glint of devotion is clouded by something much more mischievous, something he used to absolutely hate until he learned about its nature. Since he met you, you've been looking at him with a hint of insightfulness as though you could see right through his facade and read about his sins on the pages of the open book that was his soul. He felt seen and not in a good way. Then, after learning a few things about you, Coriolanus realized that this perceptiveness is the best thing he could hope for - you were smart enough to connect the dots, to notice patterns not many deemed obvious and yet, too blindsided by love, you thought of his wrongdoings as right. Not in the ethical sense, perhaps, but in logic. There was a method to his madness and a very effective one at that. After all, how utterly foolish would it be to play nice while in The Capitol? In a world of "eat or be eaten", Coriolanus was going to throw a feast. You knew it early on and appreciated the wit and grit it takes to do so.

Standing now in front of him, you slightly lift one of your eyebrows, silently asking him what's on his mind.

"You're beautiful," he confesses.

Your lips curve into a smile. "Tell me something I don't know."

His blue eyes bore into yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you want to look away but prohibits you from doing so at the same time. "I'd burn the whole world for you," he whispers, his tone gravely serious.

Coriolanus feels himself shudder when the back of your hand gently brushes his cheek. Still looking at you, he tilts his head to kiss your fingers.

"I said 'something I don't know', love," you retort in an equally low voice. "Now come, the morning is still far away."

You take his hand in yours, pulling him back towards your bedroom. And, for some strange reason, he lets you guide him.

If he was a better man, he would lead a different life. A more peaceful one, perhaps. But he's not a better man - in fact, he's far from being considered "good" or even "decent". Which is why his life is pleasant, instead of peaceful. And if awful things have brought him so much joy, why, pray tell, should he ever be anything but despicable?

_____

Me? Writing dark characters with dark themes? In other news, the water is wet.

[kit-williams]

Night Out

Female Lead: A necromundian named Smoothie Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marine Canon Status: I dont have any Yandere Custodes so not canon yet?

Note: This one was HARD because I don't exactly have any Yandere Custodes made. I'm still figuring out how to portray the Custodes and how much from Fanon/funny vas (like DreadAnon/My Golden Buddy/TTS) I'm going to be incorporating. (But this is less about how it is and more of what I'm trying to do)

She missed Necromunda that much was obvious as some glammed up tall boy told her she was going to be the cause for some great triumph. Yeah Smoothie heard that one before of some drugged out man getting higher then the spire. That was some really good shit she smoked too!

She crawled up the vent as she was going up and away from the area that made her nose bleed. She lived in a hive long enough to know if something was making you bleed you were most likely already dying but hey a little bit of radiation here and there wasn't going to kill her any faster. Though she was confused as she fulfilled what she needed to do... she had a kid... gross little thing with a grosser man but whatever if the Throne man said her kid was going to become important then she'd do it.

The glam man had asked her a funny question. Why she wasn't so torn up... a kid should be something that brings good memories about a good time. Everything in the lower hives was about survival and well having a kid was no easy choice like those upper hivers getting to have kids like its no one's business. She wasn't torn up because she didn't really care about the guy she had the kid with.

Maybe she shouldn't have answered and just fucked off then she wouldn't have been dragged to Terra. She grinned as she knew he was probably trying to find her, serves him right for putting trackers into her.

Smoothie crawls up the vent before kicking the gilded piece of metal open and breathing in the relatively clean air this high up. "God my tits are freezing." She mutters as she pulls herself up and stretches as she sits down on one of the golden gargoyles and waits for. "There you are big guy took ya long enough to find me."

She feels his massive hand grab the back of her jacket just like he did back in the hive. A man doesn't grab a lady like that for no reason... hell the rations he got for her always tasted better and she'll admit she was getting pampered here with some fancy golden collar. She smacked his hand, "Fuckin sit down feather brain." She says in reference to his plume.

"Smoothie." His voice rumbled with some slight annoyance.

"Just fuckin sit with me and enjoy the night out." She says lighting up some scum lho as she looks out at the golden sea. "Its pretty aint it..."

She feels him wrap her in his purple cloak as she is plucked from the gargoyle and into his lap. "Why did you need to come all the way out here."

"When we were coming in the first time I saw this... first time I saw anything from so high up." She says and her eyes sparkle with the same glow that she held when they were above terra at night when she was arriving. "I'm so use to being under everything seeing all the wires and the ugly underbelly and all the shit they try to hide but this... " She lets the blue green smoke roll out of her mouth. "It's pretty... and not so gaudy like everything else here. Who the fuck even decorated it's so much gawkin gold." She says with a chuckle as his massive arm wraps around her.

"Thank you for giving me a reason to... have a... night out." He says with a sigh as his stuffy demeanor melts a little as he holds her tightly and Smoothie just chuckles.

"Of course big guy I mean least this sewer rat you brought home can do for you." She kisses his faceplate grinning as she leaves a neon green kiss mark on the gold.

Fluffuary Taglist: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

[tetsunabouquet]

Okay today is my birthday so if you would be willing and you don't have to but could I please

ask for a part too but maybe where yandere senri finds out the only reason she was avoiding him was because she thought he was going to harm her if she was alone with him and only wanted her

blood and finding out she did have feelings for him but was bearing them down because she thought it was worthless to fall in love with someone the only sees her as food

Also you don't have to take this request and you can delete it

A/N: Happy belated birthday! Sorry that I'm three days too late, as I mention often, I have a writing schedule and that's why I tell everyone to send requests like these with your birthday date attached in advance so I have enough time to actually make it and put it out in time according with my schedule.

Senri was trying to contain his feeling of triumph. Rima had wanted to talk to him after a specific shoot, and what she had revealed to him made him so ecstatic that he was giddy with joy. Kianna actually liked him. Their feelings were completely mutual. It made him feel like he could explode with glee, and he bore a grin so wide that it was almost scary looking. All this time his love had simply been acting distant because she thought he was only interested in her blood. Oh Kianna was such a naive girl. Like she wasn't the sun and the moon to him, like her visage didn't make him feel dizzy with pure need. He was going to find a smooth way to confess his feelings, and he knew from keeping his eye on her for so long that she was going to be alone just a little before the Night Class' dinnertime. She usually was. He made sure to play the music she liked in the background to create the perfect atmosphere that she could enjoy. He decided to borrow some of the candles that were left from Takuma's 18th birthday party to have the setting be romantic, but not overdoing it as women didn't seem to like having 'too much' or 'too less' of a romantic setting. They were certainly a confusing species sometimes, but being raised by a single mother and having a female friend as close as a sister, hopefully had brought some wisdom upon him. He waited patiently, waiting until she would bless him with her presence. It didn't took long before Senri heard the delight that were her footsteps, he was acquainted enough to know the particular sound of her shoes and the rhythmn of her steps. Senri tried to keep his composure as Kianna walked into the room, her eyes wide as she took everything in. "Kianna-san, you're just the person I was waiting for. I've been wanting to clear a misunderstanding, could you please sit down?" She looked a little suspicious and whilst she moved to the chair he was gesturing at, she did so very slowly and hesitantly. Not that Senri cared, he knew she was going to be madly happy when he cleared things up. "Rima said something to me earlier, and I think you misunderstood my intentions." He said, and took a seat across of her. Kianna still looked nervous, but Senri found every single one of her expressions to be genuinely endearing. "It seems you believe I am interested in you for your blood. You're wrong. I like you." Senri stated bluntly, seeing the truth was the best course of action. Kianna seemed stunned for a moment, and he smiled at her. Internally Senri was cheering as he looked at her sweet face, trying to process what was being said. "You… Like me?" She asked perplexed. Senri nodded, "Yes, and I've been informed you actually like me too. Or was Rima wrong about that?" Kianna shook her head slowly. She looked like she was positively surprised and Senri was floating. "I'm happy to hear that, I was quite bummed I couldn't give you a birthday kiss when you held your birthday party a couple of days ago." Senri said, hoping to get a kiss from Kianna. She blushed but didn't seemed to protest when he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. He could feel his heart pounding, and he whispered against her lips, "Happy belated birthday," before kissing her at last.

[lxngbottom]

Can we get a part 2 to pretty flower? my soul depends on it

Pretty Flower | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville finds himself being absolutely attached to the reader after their time together.

warnings: nsfw, light clit play, mentions of sex, but nev being adorable

my soul depends on this too don’t worry

—

ever since that night with neville, everything seemed to be blurring together and changing for you. it had only been a couple of weeks, and you made no attempt to even speak to him. you were so embarrassed at what happened, and even more ashamed at the fact that you enjoyed it. after neville pleaded with you to stay, you just walked out on him, giving him no rhyme or reason.

after everything, neville felt so guilty. did he over step? oh god... what if you didn’t really want that to happen? what if he was too invasive? he wasn’t too sure, but it made him burn with sadness every time he saw you, hiding your face from him in the halls.

you definitely weren’t angry with him, you just were too shy. you felt like you had committed some sort of unforgivable act.

when you told ginny, she almost flipped the whole table over in the great hall. she wasn’t shocked at the fact that it had happened, as she assumed that neville had always fancied you, but all at the same time... you had actually agreed to it. you were no longer “innocent”. and that on its own was what got to ginny. maybe the ginger was just... baffled?

“down there?” hermione asked, skimming the row of seats in the quidditch pitch. you nodded you head as people filled in the rows.

you were at a quidditch game, more than ready to support ginny in her first real match of the year. hermione and luna had escorted you, as you were terrified to get in trouble for not sitting in your house placement. when you admitted that fact, hermione just giggled and said, “and they say i’m afraid to break the rules...”

as you three settled into the stands, you saw a familiar figure walking in your direction. your body tensed, and you quickly turned your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you.

but of course, he did notice you. he always noticed you.

“you guys saving these seats for anyone else?” neville asked politely. hermione shook her head, and he adjusted his scarf as he glanced over at you, just simply waiting for you to look back. but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you were too ashamed.

—

the quidditch match had gone great. gryffindor had taken a victory, and for some god awful reason, you had agreed to let hermione to sneak you into the gryffindor common room to celebrate.

unusual things had happened as people cheered ron on, including lavendar brown practically forcing her tongue down the ginger’s throat. this elicited a terrible reaction from hermione, and you watched as she exited the common room with teary eyes, harry following behind her. you wanted to go check on her, but honestly, you knew that harry could probably make her feel better than you could. after all, you weren’t great with handling people’s emotions.

for merlin’s sake, you couldn’t even figure out your own emotions.

here you were now, awkwardly standing in the front as students cheered lavendar and ron on for snogging. luckily, they exited soon, probably trying to find some privacy you assumed.

you knew how that went.

you gulped as the whole time you could feel neville’s lingering presence beside you, and you could hear the sound of his voice every time seamus spoke a word to him beside you.

“want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

“i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

the statements came back in flashbacks every single time you heard his voice. it made your hands shake, and your thighs press together.

“y/n?”

the voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked over to see seamus with furrowed eyebrows looking over at you,

“are you alright?”

you nodded your head awkwardly, feeling neville’s chest slightly pressing up against your back from how packed it was in the common room at the moment.

“yes... um—sorry... what did you say?”

oh god. this was so embarrassing.

“i asked if you placed your bet on weasley, today... if you didn’t, you’re probably regretting that now, huh?” he teased, shooting a playful grin your way. you laughed awkwardly, as you could still feel neville right behind you.

then, you heard dean and ginny called seamus’s name, and he shot them a questioning look.

“oi! leave y/n alone, finnigan!” ginny demanded, walking over towards you, “dean needs a word with you, seamus...”

he rolled his eyes and walked over to his best friend, and patted your shoulder as she returned to the boys.

you were now alone again, and people started to spread out in the common room, chatter of triumph still occurring. but, that feeling behind you still hadn’t faded.

“meet me in my dorm...” you heard in your ear, and you jumped slightly from the voice. he sounded so... angelic. “bunny...”

your thighs clenched from the nickname, and the fact that you could feel neville’s breath against your neck. but you didn’t dare to look back, even when his finger grazed the back of your thigh slightly. and suddenly, he was gone.

for a moment, you panicked thinking about what you should do. you still felt utterly embarrassed due to what happened just a couple weeks prior, but, you couldn’t ignore that familiar fluttery sensation in your stomach as you thought about it.

fuck it.

you waited for a few minutes before walking away, and ginny shot you a wink as you went towards the boy’s dormitory.

“just stay calm... it’s fine—it’s just neville...” you kept telling yourself as you walked up the stairs, also hoping that no one was following you.

the trip to the dorm was unfortunately much shorter than you hoped it would be, and you trembled as you knocked on the door. neville opened it automatically, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. you yelped at this, and he slammed the door behind you. he let go of you, and you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

he loomed over your figure as he approached slowly, looking you up and down.

“hi, petal...” he whispered, sending a shock through your spine,

“hi...” you replied shyly, gulping a bit. he couldn’t help but smile hearing your fragile voice again, as he had missed the simple sound of it these past two weeks.

he noticed your nervousness, and let his fingertip graze across your cheek in an attempt to soothe you, “i’ve missed you...” he cooed, “you left with no reason, darling. i’ve been worried. you haven’t spoken to me, either...”

you felt guilty at his words, but even more guilty for the reasoning.

“s-s-sorry...” you stuttered out, already knowing that he was about to ask you why, “e-embarrassed...”

embarrassed? why?

“why are you embarrassed, love?”

you didn’t know if you should exactly tell him, but you knew he deserved some sort of explanation. you could tell that he was pleading for one just by the look in his eyes.

“what—what we did...”

he frowned a bit at your reply,

“why is that embarrassing?”

you shrugged your shoulders, honestly not understanding the shame.

“it—it was bad...” you muttered, but noticed the shift in neville’s facial features, “not—not bad like that... just—i—well... i don’t know...”

he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle from you innocence, as it was somehow still in tact.

“well... is there anything i could do to make you feel less embarrassed? cause—there’s no reason to be, petal. you did—amazing.” he paused before he continued, letting his hand trail down your hip, rubbing small circles into it. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, petal.”

you looked up at him finally, your sparkling, shy eyes burning into his. your cheeks were on fire from his touch, and you knew that he knew that he had an affect on him.

“i-i-i’m sorry... i’ve just been scared to—bring it up, i suppose. d-d-don’t want to—embarrass you in front of your friends...”

neville didn’t even respond, he simply placed a small kiss on your forehead, and he sent you a small smile.

“you could never do that, petal... you’re too sweet.”

his words made you somehow blush even more, and it was getting to the point where you broke out in a sweat from how heated you were.

“but... i couldn’t help but notice that you were clenching those pretty little thighs of yours together in the common room, earlier...” now, his eyes were dark once more, that sweet boy gone within an instant, “what were you thinking about, bunny?” that’s when those same fingers that rested on your hips came trailing down, and were going up your skirt, making your breath hitch.

“y-y-you...” you responded sheepishly, only wanting to be honest with him. he chuckled, and finally, he pressed his finger up against your clothed bundle of nerves.

you gasped as he did so, “bunny... you’re soaked... how long have you been like this?” he asked teasingly, but the tone in his voice came off as if he was just pitying you.

“i-i’ve been thinking about—you... a lot... ever since—you know...” he hummed in response, letting you know that he wanted you to keep speaking, “i—i tried to—t-t-touch myself the other day... but—i don’t know. it felt... weird...”

even after everything, you were still so innocent. it drove neville absolutely mad.

“petal... you should’ve just came to me. you know i’ll take care of you.” he stated with a smirk etched across his face. his fingers kept rubbing small circles into your panties, making your breath turn shaky and uneven. “do you know how much i’ve missed you?”

you whimpered as moved your panties aside, and ran his finger through your slit,

“please...”

“please what, bunny?”

you were tired of the teasing. you had missed him so fucking much, and you just wanted him to make you feel good again. plus, you simply missed just being around him.

“touch me again. please.”

he kissed your lips softly, but still only continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

“be patient, petal. i want you to be mine before i make you feel good again...” he admitted, stroking your cheek with his free hand. “would you want that?”

you looked up at him, and could see the pure honestly and adoration in his green eyes. you had never had a boyfriend before, but you didn’t even have to give it a second thought before you nodded your head.

he sent you a genuine smile,

“good. now you’re mine and i can make you feel good whenever you want...”

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 1: The Sun God

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 6756

Warnings: There are descriptions of burns and burn victims. Also some talk of drug addiction

Request: This is just from my own head 😊 ​

A/N: One step closer to understanding what’s ailing the reader... meanwhile *lovestruck sigh* the bickering and flirting between the reader and the Doctor is ✨giving me life✨

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 1: The Sun God {You Are Here}

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song

Life with the Doctor went by in a blur of rescued planets, saved species, and TARDIS accidents. The hospital visit planned so many months ago was long forgotten.

(Y/N) and the Doctor were simply swept away with adventure after adventure. After partaking the famed gouda of the moon and dancing the night away in the Blankar System, their companionship became less of a requirement and more of a favorite pastime.

There was still the looming mystery of (Y/N)’s alien tainted particle trail and the Reapers around every corner. But the pair of them found themselves rather enjoying spending their time exploring rather than hunting.

And the longer she spent on the TARDIS, the harder it became accepting she should go home at some point. It had been months. Months: and thoughts of her fiancé were knocking at the door in the back of her mind.

“This way!” The Doctor grabbed her hand and started to run. They were always running.

Though this time she was feeling a bit winded.

“You shouldn’t have pointed out their sham,” she laughed, disregarding the angry human mob behind them.

“Well, they shouldn’t have tried to scam the money off of you. The way they were groveling you, trying to pick your pocket – honestly.”

She gave him a silent look of admiration and scolded herself. “Could you have parked the TARDIS any farther!” There was a burning tickling her lungs – she didn’t normally get this fatigued so quickly.

The Doctor scoffed, gripping her hand tighter and spotting their blue box ahead, “Running’s good for the heart, (Y/N). And what with you only having one of those, I’ve got to keep your cardiovascular system in shape.”

They slammed into the TARDIS doors. Locked.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” (Y/N) said, leaning into the box heavily, “Shouldn’t it open at your command?”

“Oh hush,” he snipped, “Extra precautions aren’t a crime.”

The mob scrambled closer, finding them stationary at the end of the street. (Y/N) nudged the Doctor’s elbow, “If they aren’t a crime then why is our punishment on its way?” The Doctor fiddled with his silver key.

“Don’t rush me.”

“We don’t exactly have the time, Doctor.”

“You’re less fun when you’re grumpy.”

“I’ll be grumpier if we’re on the end of those pitchforks!”

The doors swung open as the mob roared. (Y/N) and the Doctor entered and felt as the humans pounded against the police box outside. Their torches could be seen ablaze through the window.

The Doctor didn’t hesitate to jump to the controls and put the TARDIS in an orbit while (Y/N) tried to catch her breath.

Her lungs were still burning, a stitch in her side. It felt like there was a pulse entering her brain, so loud it drowned anything else out. She didn’t feel good. Really didn’t feel good.

“That was a close one.”

She laughed, though her face pinched into a wince, “No thanks to you.”

“Like I said, if only they had kept their grubby hands off of you… (Y/N)?”

She was holding her head with both her hands, her face going slack. Her knees shook as she felt a comforting pressure on both her shoulders, “I feel a bit faint.”

It was the Doctor holding her steady, “You look it. What happened?” And as her knees buckled, he caught her smoothly, wrapping his arms around her. “Woah, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Did something hit you?”

(Y/N) sighed, her head reeling – she couldn’t open her eyes; the light was so bright now. “I – I don’t know. I don’t think so. We just started running and I couldn’t breathe.”

The Doctor looked at her with bewilderment, but with her eyes closed, he snuck some fear into the gaze. “Well, up you get. Lets get you to your room.” With his arm slung around her, they sloppily made it to the ladder lowered beneath the grates.

“I’m finding the lack of stairs here very inconvenient,” she joked, practically falling into the Doctor’s arms at the bottom of the ladder.

He smiled though his brow was tense, “I’ll keep that in mind when I do renovations.”

(Y/N) was dragging her feet by the time they entered her bedroom. It was quite a bit different since she first moved in. After a few shopping trips and cleaning sprees, it was positively habitable. At least that’s what the Doctor called it.

He gently laid her on the bed and went to pull off her sneakers, “I’ll get you some water. Maybe you’re just coming down with something.”

“I never get sick, remember.” She had a hand over her eyes.

The Doctor pulled the sheets to her chin and gave such an intense look of concern he knew she’d make fun of him if she saw. But that was always the Doctor’s way. He waited for when she wasn’t looking.

“You also are adjusting to a new lifestyle,” he muttered, noticing the TARDIS lowering the brightness of the lights. “Maybe you’ve finally hit a wall.” When he turned to give her time to rest, she raised her voice.

“Don’t go,” she called, regretting how it made her head pound, “I hate it when you leave me alone. I know you’re off having more fun without me.”

He grinned, a feeling of elation and triumph centering in his chest. He scolded himself.

“I know you’re not used to the sickbed, but usually this is when the ill rest.”

“I thought we just agreed I’m not ill.”

“You are fatigued.”

“And see how you didn’t use the word ill?”

He sighed out that easy smile that came whenever she bickered with him. He ran a hand over his face and returned to her bedside, “You’re growing as stubborn as me.”

“You know I fall asleep faster when you tell me stories.”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” he laughed, choosing one of the comfy reading chairs (Y/N) furnished her room with – he pulled it closer to the bed.

She smirked, settling into the covers, “You know what I mean. They’re not boring… they’re soothing.”

“You just like hearing me talk,” he cheekily intertwined his fingers before him, “Besides, I shouldn’t be disturbing your rest.”

“Then why have you pulled up a chair?”

He observed that her eyes were still closed, though her brow was no longer pinched in pain. “Maybe I’m just making sure you don’t sneak out of bed before you’re properly feeling better.”

“Nah – you’re just in denial.”

The Doctor felt his joints freeze into place. It took a few moments for him to ensure his voice was steady, “Denial?”

She fisted the sheets and tucked them under her chin, it was ridiculously adorable. “You won’t admit we’ve become friends despite our agreement when we first met. You care about me more than just someone who has a mystery about them.”

Did she think because she had a ring on her finger she could toy with him like this?

“I thought I didn’t need to say it aloud, (Y/N).” He stared at her serene face, propping an elbow on the armrest of the chair. He put a finger to his chin, “Did you believe I didn’t think that?”

“Oh, I knew you cared from the moment Jack offered to take me dancing.” If her head weren’t about to explode, she might have burst into a round of giggles.

The Doctor held back a frustrated groan at the memory, “I was only looking out for you – Jack can be…”

“A catch?”

He paused, staring at her with more longing than he ever allowed himself, “A dog.”

She grinned but winced. Almost instinctually the Doctor leaned over from his seat and rested an arm on the mattress.

“You okay?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, attempting to relax her face. “Tell me about Shakespeare again. Did he really have a full head of hair?”

The Doctor made sure her eyes were still closed as he lightly grazed a few fingers along her hairline, “He also was a terrible flirt.” He pushed the strands of hair away from her face.

“Bet Martha didn’t mind.”

“She said he had bad breath.”

“Then tell me about the mannequins – that one always gives me the creeps.” She felt her heart stutter as he continued to lean against her mattress. “Or maybe the TVs that sucked your faces off!”

He hummed, a deep sound from his chest, “Those stories won’t help you sleep.”

There was a moment of silence as (Y/N) simply took in the calming presence of him. One of the first things the Doctor promised her upon meeting was that he would keep her safe. And she felt it. She was safe with him.

“Tell me about the orange sky then.”

His chest ached. He knew exactly what she was asking for.

“The silver trees and the red grass,” she muttered, snuggling into her pillow, “Remind me how many times you failed your school exams.”

The Doctor chuckled, that ache threading up and making his throat dry, “All right.” He couldn’t help himself; he moved a hand and cupped her cheek. The same one he held when she woke from her coma.

~~~

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The usual comfort of her favorite watch wasn’t coming to her this time. She was staring intently at her engagement ring. Pulled off her finger and held to the light, it glittered mockingly.

Months, she reminded herself, months she had been away from home. Didn’t she care about how Andy was doing at all?

Of course she did.

But did she care enough to run home to him and plan that wedding and live the rest of her life as a primary school teacher married to a nurse?

Apparently not.

But why was that? As she stared at the ring, she didn’t feel what she ought to have been. She should feel as though she were engaged to the man of her dreams, anxious and excited to be married. The thought of him should give her butterflies. The sound of his voice should make her heart skip.

Why wasn’t she feeling that anymore?

The Doctor.

No, it couldn’t be. She was losing those feelings long before the Doctor pulled her from her classroom.

Great – now her thoughts were settling on the Doctor. That brown eyed beauty. Did he know how conflicted he was making her feel? The wonderful bastard.

She peered at the engagement ring for a while longer, wondering how she was going to tell Andrew that she was having second thoughts. That there was a reason she was so willing to abandon her earth life and run away with an alien man in a time machine.

She wasn’t in love with him anymore.

A sudden flash of memory fought for room in her head: the Doctor brushing her hair away, gently tucking her in and whispering the story of his home planet. Of Gallifrey beneath the burnt orange sky.

She shook her head. If she were to make a bulleted list of things to know about the Doctor, it would start with:

1.      Stay near him; he’ll know what to do

2.      He will keep you safe

3.      He is incredibly and impossibly alone

4.      He cannot share a life with someone he could lose

No, that’s not quite right. The Doctor cannot allow himself to share a life. Every time he does he gets hurt. Hundreds of years of hurt that she couldn’t possibly understand. He told her in strict confidence about some of his old friends he’d lost.

She couldn’t insinuate, couldn’t encourage, being anything more than friends and companions.

She could handle suppressed feelings when the Doctor had been suffering for the majority of his long life.

Besides – she was an engaged woman.

A sudden bout of boredom overcame her. A sensation so powerful and unexpected that she hopped off the bed and began to pace her room. It reminded her dolefully of the Doctor. He was always on his toes, brimmed with impatience and boredom, looking for the next adventure without any proper sleep. Perhaps she was becoming more like him.

She felt immensely better after her fatigue spell. She might as well go find him on the main level.

And there he was tinkering with some wires at the console. “Good morning.”

He grinned, seeking her face immediately, “Hello!” A spark of the wires and a yelp from his lips made her laugh.

“Lets go out.”

The Doctor sucked a burnt finger, but stared at her with a furrowed brow, “You what?”

“I’m bored!”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “How are you feeling?” He came around the console and approached her sulking figure. “Does your head still hurt?”

She smacked away his hands, “I feel fine. I feel bored. Can we go somewhere exciting?”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m not fainting, am I?”

“You could be lying.”

“Since when have you refused to go exploring with me?”

“Since you’ve taken ill and, as your physician, I can’t condone behavior that could make you more ill.”

She put her hands on her hips, “I am not ill!”

His cheeky grin grew, “(Y/N) …”

“Fine!” She threw her hands in the air and made her way towards the innumerable buttons and levers. “I’ll find a place myself.” She started typing on the keypad and twisting a few knobs – the TARDIS immediately responded with a plume of steam and a flurry of flashing lights.

“Woah now!” The Doctor flew over, turning a few things and setting the ship right, “There’s no need to spring a mutiny.” He rounded on her, less kindness in his tone than he’d shown her the past night. But the pleading look on her face had his lungs constricting.

“Please.”

He pondered her expression for a few moments, eyes flickering about her figure to ensure she wasn’t swaying on her feet. As he usually did, he went to stare at the ring on her finger. A painful ritual he caught himself doing regularly.

But the ring wasn’t there.

What had she done?

“All right.” Perhaps she needed to get out of the ship for a while. “I’ve got a planet in mind you’ll find interesting. I haven’t visited in a long time.” He set the course and pulled the lever to start the engines.

(Y/N) beamed, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. He stiffened. She didn’t notice.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She went to brace herself against the railing and the Doctor cleared his throat.

“It’s called Axiless the First. As you can imagine, the planet is axis – less. It doesn’t spin like many planets do in solar systems. It doesn’t move near as fast because it’s so stationary. That means the day and night cycles last about six months. And the magnetic field that’s usually created from planetary motion, doesn’t exist so there’s no field shielding the planet from UV rays. They have to use sun shields just to go outside!”

The TARDIS bumped to a stop and the Doctor pulled out some shades from a compartment in the center console, “It’s a small colony of people as they do have to live on mid-latitude areas, but it’s fascinating seeing a motionless planet. Imagine if the Earth stopped moving – your oceans would flood the continents.”

He tossed a pair of sunglasses her way. She slid them on with ease, “How do I look?”

It surprised him the amount of heat that crept up his neck. “Uh, f-fine. Suits you.”

She punched his arm playfully, “Come on then.” She bounced towards the doors and missed how the Doctor moved his hand to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. He pinched himself.

The doors opened and a gust of hot air swarmed the ship.

The planet looked desolate, a desert of sand and rock. A few bare shrubs were scattered amongst the yellowed stones. There were even a few trees, though their branches were needlelike, and they provided little to no shade.

Sunlight was bathing everything in a harsh glow, it almost looked like waves were radiating off the sand. (Y/N) was slightly afraid to step on it for fear of burning the soles of her shoes. She had her sunglasses on, but she couldn’t help but shade her face with her hands.

“Bit hot, isn’t it?”

The Doctor stood beside her, blowing out his cheeks, “Must’ve landed in the middle of a day cycle. There was a fifty-fifty chance of hitting day or night. These glasses can be used in either cycle – day they’re sunglasses, night they’re night vision goggles.” He groaned, slipping out of his coat and throwing it into the TARDIS, “It’s hotter than I remember it being.”

“You don’t have a Hawaiian shirt in there somewhere?” (Y/N) laughed, stumbling as her feet shifted in the sand. “Surely you wear something more than those two suits.”

“I’ve got a dozen dress shirts and ties.” He started rolling up his sleeves, squinting despite having shades on. “Don’t you go bickering on about my outfits. Why is it hotter than before? The planet moves around their suns so it’s not like the sun has gotten closer and raised the temperature. Like I said before, it’s meant to be warmer than usual, the planet doesn’t spin. They have to keep the sun shields up to keep the harmful ultraviolet rays at bay, otherwise everyone here would burn.”

He started paving the way towards a sand dune; (Y/N) followed closely, feeling her feet heat up with how hot the ground was. “Are you telling me we’ve stumbled upon another doomed planet? What are the odds?”

She laughed but the Doctor ignored her. “The only way the planet could be heating up is if the UV rays have reached the surface. Like a microwave the sun is cooking the planet. Which means there’s nothing stopping the sun. Which means…” he put a hand through his hair, “The sun shields aren’t up and working.”

(Y/N) faltered, stopping at the top of the dune and catching her breath, “I don’t fancy being roasted alive, Doctor.” Below them was a small village, one made of glass and metal. “Do you suppose they know they’re living on a microwave?”

The Doctor wiped the growing sweat on his forehead. “Let’s go find out.”

The colony was little but were awed and welcoming at the presence of (Y/N) and the Doctor. It was impossible, in their eyes, for visitors to want to see their scorching planet. They were directed towards the people in charge, a race of humanoid beings; their eyes were a startling purple, and they had no hair. Intricate and beautiful floral patterns painted their skin and bald heads.

The smartly built huts were just as humid and stuffy on the inside as it was out in the sand. But they were grateful for the shade.

“I’m the Doctor and this is (Y/N),” the Doctor introduced, removing his shades, “We’ve come for a visit and couldn’t help but notice you’re… well, roasting.”

One of the humanoid aliens bowed, “You are correct. Our suns are infiltrating the shields. We’ve been suffering in this heat, unable to do anything.”

“What’s your name?” The Doctor asked, making his way towards a compartment of computers and scientific equipment.

The humanoid appeared to trust him near the technology. “I am Peony. This is my companion, Iris.”

“Like the flowers?” (Y/N) asked, eyeing their floral tattoos. “They’re very pretty names.”

“Yes, we’ve been compared before,” the other called Iris stated, “But the only correlation is that we are born of the ground. We’re planted seeds in a garden and sprout into being.”

(Y/N) gave them an appraising look, “Your babies are grown in the ground?”

“They’re a solitary species, (Y/N),” The Doctor called over his shoulder, “They don’t understand physical touch or procreation like you do.”

“There is no need for such intimacy,” Peony said. And (Y/N) could see how there was a purposeful distance between the two humanoids.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. I’d miss the cuddles.”

“Right then,” the Doctor shouted, “What did you mean the suns are infiltrating your shields? They’re only comprised of hydrogen and helium, only hot plasma that reacts to nuclear fusion. It’s not capable of motives like infiltration. That would mean they’d have consciousness.”

Peony and Iris shared a purple-eyed look before stating, “We believe there’s more to it then that.”

“You believe your suns are alive? Like actual beings?” (Y/N) asked, feeling the back of her shirt stick with sweat. “How is that possible?”

The Doctor peered at the information before him, screens that monitored the strength of the sun shields, “There are beings out there that we don’t fully understand. Gargantuan, God-like beings that are too powerful to observe and communicate with. I wouldn’t believe it – only…” He put a finger to his chin, “This chart here shows UV rays behaving like soldiers.”

Iris nodded, walking towards him, “You see them beating against the shield. They’re using physical force.”

“Like the arms of an octopus, they’re reaching out and tapping on the door,” the Doctor muttered, “Right, okay then. What’s the plan?”

A haziness enveloped (Y/N)’s eyes. Oh, no, not this again. She closed her eyes and tried to stay upright, taking deep breaths. She had felt perfectly fine that morning. Must’ve been the blasted heat.

Heat exhaustion. That’s all it was. (Y/N) didn’t get sick – has never been sick.

“We’ve been working on the theory to get the planet spinning again,” Iris stated, “It would create a powerful magnetic field and shield us permanently.”

“What? No. No! You can’t,” the Doctor said, “Making the planet spin would bring disaster to the surface, you will more than likely kill everything trying to survive here. Besides, you’ve got to have a core…”

“Our core is metallic,” Peony interrupted, “And planetary motion will help it create that magnetic field.”

The Doctor was getting that crazed look about him, one that normally pushed him to do rather crazed things. “But don’t you realize when your planet begins to spin again, whether instantaneous or gradual, everything will change. Tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, natural disasters everywhere! The planet surface will slide with the speed, bodies of water will be forced onto land, and plant life will be unable to cope.”

Peony looked at him as if they’d heard such an argument before. “It will also bring balance to the thinning air. We won’t have to only live in certain areas of the planet to breathe. We wouldn’t have to adjust to six month day cycles. And we wouldn’t have to worry about the sun. We are running out of options, Doctor.”

“We are dying either way,” Iris said, “It’s only a matter of which gets us first.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

(Y/N) was leaning heavily against the wall paneling. It was a good thing the Doctor had something to occupy his mind.

“It’s either falling into natural disaster or burning from the sun.”

“There must be another way. Strengthen the shields again,” the Doctor muttered.

Iris waved a hand over to a staircase, one that went underground. “Follow me.”

“It’s no good,” Peony said, “We’ve been exposed to these rays for too long. We thought them simply ultraviolet, but that’s false. These suns are living beings and living beneath them has filled us with toxicity.”

“How’d you mean?” They continued down the stairs, (Y/N) still feeling woozy but appreciating the miniscule temperature drop.

They made it to a doorless room that held a wide window. It looked on at what could only be described as a burn clinic.

“What is this?” The Doctor continued questioning.

The longer (Y/N) looked, the more afraid she became. Numerous of the planet’s species were laying there, each to their own cot. And every one of them was covered in harsh, angry red burns. It looked incredibly painful.

Others in yellow hazmat suits were walking around and applying ointment, taking temperatures, and wiping foreheads. A few of the affected people were writhing in their beds, going mad with the heat. They had to be held down.

“It’s a sickness,” the Doctor whispered, mostly to himself.

“No, they’re just sun burnt,” (Y/N) said with an air of desperation, “Nothing some aloe vera can’t fix.”

“You forget we aren’t dealing with a regular sun,” Peony muttered, “Those are not burns from exposure, they’re from a plague.”

The Doctor leaned against the window, taking in the scene, “You’re dying either way. Sun shields won’t stop them because they aren’t only suns. They have motives and biology and warfare.”

(Y/N) felt her knees shake, unable to tear her eyes away from the camp of victims. It was like a horrific car accident – you couldn’t look away. “Are we safe?”

“You haven’t been exposed that long,” Iris said, “We’ve been living here our whole lives.”

“You only have to worry about those already showing symptoms,” Peony went on, “Don’t go near someone with the plague.”

The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face frustratingly. He was deep in thought, (Y/N) knew, he needed to think of a solution. Because he was brilliant. Because he was the Doctor. And he couldn’t turn away.

“What if we manufacture a magnetic field,” he banged a hand against his forehead, “We don’t have to shield the entire planet, only the parts people can survive in. Oh, my head! We’d need to mine enough metal and charge it with positive and negative energy. But a system could be built where that’s magnified to a specific area.”

Iris and Peony were sharing a silent look again, “That is a possibility we had not thought of.”

“We were busy thinking of the entire planets safety.”

The Doctor suddenly grinned, “But the entire planet isn’t habitable. Only parts. And we can secure those parts. I know I can build it - do you have the metal to wield it?”

“We have a metallic core, Doctor,” Peony smiled, “How else do you think we built these structures?”

Hello, (Y/N).

“What?” (Y/N) looked around, not recognizing the voice that addressed her.

The Doctor faced her, “Sorry?” He was still grinning from his brilliance.

“I thought…” she paused, very conscious of the sweat falling down the side of her face. “Nothing, I thought I heard something.”

You did.

“Right, lead the way,” the Doctor said, gesturing towards the staircase, “And while we’re at it, maybe I’ll find some revolutionary antibiotics for your patients.”

Your head is strange. Very dark. Very empty. What is hidden behind this steel door?

“What is that?” she questioned but realized that she was now alone in the small, windowed room. “Hello?”

Hello. How do you stand having so much hidden in your head?

“Where are you?”

I’m here. Inside you.

“Very funny,” she wheezed. Her breath left her, much like the night before. “Who are you?”

Ancient. Ancient like your Doctor. You’ve got quite the thought train dedicated to him, haven’t you?

“What are you called then.” Panic. She mustn’t panic.

We have no name. Only fire and ruin and wrath.

“You’re – you’re the sun. The one outside! Is this you infecting me? Am I sick?” She looked at her arms, fear starting to broil. But there were no angry burns appearing there.

This is our form of communication. We are so far away. The shields have dampened our telepathic field.

“Well, what do you want then? Why are you talking to me?”

There was silence for a few moments before:

I was bored.

The same reason she and the Doctor came to the planet. She was bored.

“And are you entertained now?” the edge of mockery in her voice was satisfying. But her head was beginning to pound.

You’re very strange. Very weak. Are you aware of how weak you are?

“Shut up!”

“(Y/N)?”

She whirled around and found the Doctor at the bottom of the stairs. She was breathing heavy, sweat dripping from her chin and hands.

“Who’re you talking to?” He kept his face calm, void of the real emotion he was feeling. Fear.

She swallowed, finding her throat remarkably dry, “No – no one.”

Interesting.

“Are you all right?” He took a few cautious steps towards her, his shirt sleeves still rolled up and his tie now loosened. She eyed him thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully.

Very interesting.

“I’m fine. The heat – it’s too much for me,” she cracked a lackluster smile, “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, raising a cautious hand and touching her shoulder. He pulled back almost immediately.

“What is it?”

Clever Doctor.

He stared at her with newfound confusion. The stare was so intense she felt as though she were being x-rayed.

“What have you done to her?”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Can you hear him?” (Y/N) asked, whispering despite knowing the being could hear perfectly fine.

The Doctor refused to look away from her, “Answer me.”

You have some interesting trains of thought as well, Doctor. Very secret and very guarded.

“He’s in your head too?” (Y/N) looked back at the Doctor, trying her best to stay afloat. Her headache was becoming all consuming, she couldn’t ignore it much longer. Perhaps her wobbly knees will give way first.

The Doctor clenched his jaw, a few fingers to his temple, “You should ask for permission before you go snooping around.”

Ah, Time Lord – you have telepathy of your own.

“You have no right to this world,” he continued, “No right to consume what you don’t need.”

The man that regrets.

(Y/N) could feel the tension seizing the Doctor. She trailed her suddenly tired eyes towards his face. He wasn’t holding back now, he was upset – he was hurting. The label struck a cord in him. It made him think of an impossibly long list of heartaches.

And his companion: the dying girl.

She held her breath. That was a label she didn’t recognize.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t talk to it,” The Doctor said, moving his fingers from his head towards (Y/N)’s. “I’ve shut him out of my mind. Now I’ll shut him out of yours.”

You should be afraid. Be very afraid you weak, dying girl.

“Stop it,” she said. She wrapped her hands around the Doctor’s wrists, shutting her eyes tight against the words he could no longer hear. A burning like nothing else was heating her bones, it started low and began to grow until it was scorching.

“Stop it, stop it! PLEASE.”

“I’ve almost got it, (Y/N),” the Doctor ground out, “Bear with me, I’ve got you.”

No ones got you. You’re alone. Void of memories. Family. Life. Your time is up, dying girl.

Blisters erupted on her arms, searing away her skin. “Please! STOP IT.” Unexpected tears ran hot down her sweltering face. Sweat made her rosy cheeks shine.

There is no help coming. You are meant to die. From the moment you woke you were meant to be dead.

And snap. Her head was silent.

She fell into the Doctor’s arms, trembling and burning. He clutched at her, saying words that she couldn’t make out. White noise was shoving cotton in her ears. There was a scent of smoke in the air. Was that coming from her?

And she fainted.

~~~

It was bright. So bright.

There were shadows passing behind her eyelids and she was reluctant to open them. Every bone in her body, every joint, ached and burned. She was suddenly very aware of her limbs and how sore they were.

“What happened?”

Someone was near her, ready to answer, “You were filled with tendrils of that sun being energy. He stuck a needle into your mind and poisoned you. It was an instantaneous infection.”

She cracked open one eye to give him a look. It almost made him smile.

“He gave you the plague. You’ve been sick.”

She groaned, “If this is what being sick feels like, I’ve been terribly naïve.” She felt a hand on her forehead, and it was cool against the heat of her skin.

“You have been sick for a long while, my child.”

(Y/N) opened her eyes at the unfamiliar voice. She was surprised to see a cat. A blooming cat.

“Novice Hame, this is (Y/N),” the Doctor frowned. (Y/N) swiveled her gaze from the robed cat to his placid face. He had that expression sometimes when he was dwelling on something particularly sullen or painful.

When he dwelled on the past. Or his regrets. The man that regrets.

“Where am I?”

“Remember that hospital I wanted to take you to all those months ago.” His voice sounded tired. His hand trailed to the back of her head.

Novice Hame purred, “You’re a patient at the New New York Hospital. We’ve been treating you the past few days.”

“Days?” (Y/N) questioned. She tried to sit up, her face pinched in pain, and the Doctor helped her. “What’s happened to Axiless the First?”

“I’ve given them the blueprints, the technology. They’ll be fine. The Sisters of Plenitude provided medicine for their plague victims. They’ll be fine without me.”

“You didn’t stay to help?” She watched him pull his hand away, intertwining his fingers tightly across his stomach. He sat more stony as he watched her without much reaction.

“They’ll be fine. I was needed elsewhere.”

The way he stared at her was excruciating. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking.

(Y/N) looked at her arms, searching for the blisters and burns she felt explode on her skin. But they were clear, “I don’t look like I have the plague anymore. Why do I feel so sick then?”

“You’re ill with much more,” Novice Hame said, moving towards the bed and fiddling with a side table of medications. “Like I said, you’ve been sick for a long while.”

“How long? Sick with what?” She put a hand to her head, feeling faint again. “I don’t get sick, nurse.”

The cat smiled with pointed teeth, “We’re still working it out.”

“You don’t get sick with human disease, (Y/N). We’re talking about alien disease.” The Doctor put more inflection in his voice though his face was still flat. “I should’ve taken you to this hospital the first chance I got,” he whispered.

“Alright, now you’re scaring me.” (Y/N) turned towards the novice and asked, “Tell me.”

The cat woman appeared conflicted, as if she didn’t know where to begin. But she shared a look with the seated Time Lord and sighed, “As far as we can tell – you’ve been ill all your life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) flickered her gaze towards the Doctor and saw the sorrow creep into his face.

“You still feel sick because it wasn’t just the sun plague that was ailing you,” Novice Hame continued, folding her hands in front of her, “The Doctor tells me you’ve been experiencing fatigue, dizzy spells, the last few weeks.”

She swallowed hard, “I’ve been tired is all.”

“You’ve been experiencing withdrawal.”

(Y/N) blinked, then scoffed, “Withdrawal?”

“Your body is dependent on a substance to keep it going. Since leaving Earth, you haven’t been receiving it.”

She glared at the cat, as if saying she’d better keep talking before something bad happens. The Doctor remained silent, sitting as still as he could but never taking his eyes off of (Y/N)’s reaction.

“While you were healing from the plague, we took the liberty of analyzing your blood. Over three-quarters of the cells there were mutated. They were defected, synthesized cells. They were still fully functioning; they just weren’t natural. They didn’t come from you.”

“Is that… is that why you were able to track me?” She addressed the Doctor.

If possible, his frown deepened. “Your particle trail. It was traceable because your biology has been tainted with a traceable substance.”

“What is this substance?”

Novice Hame continued, “The human body depends on constant cell replacement to survive. When you have a cut, the body creates new cells to heal it. When you scrape your skin, your body creates cells to replace it. Blood cells are used for so many things that they tire and die, and then must be replaced to keep the body functioning. Without cell replacement, oxygen won’t get to your organs. Nutrients won’t replenish growth. Nerves would become defective.”

“Alright, I get it,” (Y/N) said, her head aching with the upheaval of information. “Cells are important. I asked what the substance was in my body.”

“I’m telling you that’s what the substance does. This substance is acting as those new cells replacing your old ones. For some reason, your body has stopped producing its own cells, it’s completely dependent on outside help.”

“But – but if I’ve been dependent on whatever that is my entire life… how have I been getting it without realizing it?”

There was a long pause as the cat woman debated her phrasing. “Have you been in contact with someone or some place on a regular basis? A regular visit maybe that would give enough time for someone to administer the cells?”

“Well, the only person I see almost every day is my fiancé Andrew. The only person I see on a regular basis is Andrew.”

“And you haven’t seen him in months,” The Doctor muttered.

Novice Hame sighed, her voice delicate and feline, “What do you know of your fiancé?”

(Y/N) stared at her incredulously, “You’re not suggesting… you think my Andy has something to do with this?”

“He’s been with you from the moment you woke up,” the Doctor said with more of an air of thinking aloud. “Said so yourself, he was the first face you saw.”

Not true. And he knew it.

“Then we have reason to believe that this Andrew has been secretly giving you a substance of synthesized human DNA regularly. And you are in dire need of a cell replacement.”

(Y/N) sat there, a strange itch in her hands. She felt like she should be doing something. She felt like she needed to be moving. Her breathing was becoming heavy, her eyes wide and stunned.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “Why would he make me addicted to something like that? And I need it to live?”

“Yes,” Novice Hame said, “We’ve been trying to get your body to regenerate cells on its own again, but to no avail. This drug substance is powerful and foreign.”

“And you can’t just make more of the drug?”

“I’m so so sorry.” The Doctor had finally put his face in his hands.

Novice Hame remained solemn, “We don’t understand its compounds. It may be synthesized, but we don’t know how to replicate it.”

They were silent again, except for the rapid breathing coming from (Y/N). She could feel the tears trying to creep into her vision.

“So I’m an addict, that’s it? I’m an addict with a drug dealer fiancé. Why would the Reapers want me for that?”

The Doctor stood from his chair, pacing in front of the bed, “And how could my alien tracer track you if this substance is only defected, synthesized human DNA? That’s not alien.”

“The mutations were manufactured by something alien; it always leaves a trace.”

“And the Reapers come after beings they believe have cheated death,” the Doctor continued, pacing with new purpose.

(Y/N) felt her eyes water further, “The dying girl.”

The Doctor snapped his attention to her.

“I was called the dying girl. Apparently I’m supposed to be dead. Meant to have died.”

He looked at her with fierceness, jutting a finger at Novice Hame, “You are going to find a cure.”

“But Doctor…”

“You are going to find a cure and fix this!” a deep seeded power was entering his voice. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, (Y/N) figured she’d ought to have been afraid. “She is going to get better. She has to!”

(Y/N) felt a pang in her gut.

“We’re going to ask dear old Andrew a few questions,” the Doctor continued, an ancient anger in his expression. “And we’re going to get you well. He’s bound to have more of that drug.”

“Doctor, she is very weak, you’re going to have to be careful.”

He put his hands on the railing at the foot of her bed. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to lose her. Not today.”

And (Y/N) believed him. Those tears left salty tracks down her cheeks as she stared at him. But if he didn’t lose her today, then when?

He cannot share a life with someone he could lose. Not so easily.

~~~

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[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[leiascully]

Fic: Citius, Altius, Fortius (MSR, T)

This ficlet is dedicated to the commercial about the adopted Paralympian that makes me sniffly every time.  I don’t even know what they’re advertising.  All credit to AAVE for the “hip” slang Mulder uses and basically all cutting-edge words in American English.

The Olympic theme was more of a suggestion than a fanfare, but Scully still leaned forward and turned the volume down a few more notches.  She could feel Mulder giving her that crinkly-eyed smile.  She knew the remote worked just fine over the distance between the tv and the couch, but it felt like it worked better when she leaned.  It was like Jackson and his video games, a sympathetic movement.

“I don’t want to wake Gracie,” she said.

“Good plan,” Mulder said, and put his arm comfortably around her shoulders as she leaned back.  Jackson snorted and looked away, but peeked back at them to check in.  Scully was glad she was there for him, the Ginger from his journals, she and Mulder solid presences in his life, bracketed by the ghosts of his adoptive parents.

“I didn’t think you two would buy into all this jingoistic shit,” Jackson said.

“We are still employed by the United States federal government,” Scully pointed out.

“They’re basically our coworkers when it comes to repping the flag,” Mulder said laconically.  “Gotta respect the hustle.  Besides, compared to a lot of national anthems, ours kinda slaps.”

Jackson winced, predictably, at Mulder’s attempt to use slang.  Scully sensed Mulder mentally adding a few tallies to his side of the imaginary scoreboard.  It was all so sweetly familiar, a song she hummed in her dreams.

“Still,” Jackson said.  “It’s all so fuckin’ rah-rah America.  I thought you knew better.  Like you said, you work for the government.  You know all the shit they pull.”

“For two weeks every two years, I support the finest athletes that wealth, health, grueling training, and the opportunities inherent in living in the country possessing the world’s largest economy can produce,” Mulder said, a trace of irony audible in his voice.  “And also anyone competing against Russia.”

“It’s a distraction from all the shitty things happening in the world,” Jackson said.

“It’s a damn good one,” Mulder countered.  “At least they’re not supersoldiers.”

“Some of them might be,” Jackson grumbled.

“Those abs,” Mulder said, sounding a little mournful.  He patted his stomach.  “I should have gone for the upgrade when I had the chance.”

“When I was little,” Scully said slowly, “my mother would tell me that the prowess of Olympic athletes was proof that God loved us.  She said that their bodies were miracles.  I don’t think about it exactly the same way now, but there is something almost holy about that quest to go farther and faster than anyone else ever has.  In a sense, we fly without wings.  We climb higher than we thought we could.  We run faster and farther than early humans imagined.  We lift heavier burdens.  We test our nerve and our resolve in feats of endurance.  We subject our bodies to almost-unbearable forces and conditions.  We test the laws of physics, twisting in the air or gliding over the ice.  For a moment, we defy expectation, gravity, and in a sense, mortality.  The athletes of the Olympics show us the potential of the human body and the human spirit in a way that our daily lives don’t, and we feel like we are there with them as we perch on the edges of our seats, our bodies echoing their movements as if we could lend them our strength.  It’s possible that sometimes a distraction is a welcome respite.  For a short time, the world is focused on something other than war.  Many of the results may be predictable, but astonishing things happen and we learn to expect the unexpected.  Athletes from nations and peoples that have been overlooked and exploited dazzle us.  A runner falls and someone pulls them up.  Someone may shatter their leg and because of that tragedy, someone else realizes their lifelong dream.  The Olympics are a microcosm of our own attempts to strive for perfection, a supercondensed spectacle that reminds us of all our potential.  In pitting us against the people of other nations, the Olympics somehow unite us in the pursuit of a singular goal, reached by various paths: a gold medal, and the accolades of an awestruck world.”

“I love it when you give a dissertation on everyday life,” Mulder murmured, kissing under her ear.

“A spectacle that displaces the people who are already the most fucked-over,” Jackson said, but there was a little less disdain in his words.  “A profit machine for corporations and a propaganda outlet for governments.  It’s a slippery slope from athletic superiority to eugenics.  Only the strong survive.”

“George Orwell said that athletic competitions were essentially a proxy for war games,” Mulder told her.  She craned her head to look at him.

“I thought you liked the Olympics.”

“I do,” he said, “but Jack has a point.”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Jackson said.

“I wasn’t saying the Olympics are perfect,” Scully argued.  “Just that they could be perceived as creating a net good.”

The broadcast cut to commercial, sentimental strings music welling quietly from the speakers.  Mulder looked away, rubbing at his eyes.  Jackson chuckled.

“It’s that easy, huh?” he said.  “All they need to get into your psyche is footage of someone winning something and some sad music, maybe a Morgan Freeman voiceover.”

“Wait until you get old,” Mulder said.  “Then you’ll be welling up at every Visa commercial.  These ads are designed by experts in psychological warfare.  The Olympic mindgames.”

“They remind us of you,” Scully told Jackson.  “You weren’t supposed to exist.  You weren’t supposed to survive.  And here you are, capable of things your father and I could never have dreamed of.”

“Whatever,” Jackson muttered, looking away and definitely not dabbing his face on the shoulder of his t-shirt.

Scully settled back into the couch.  Grace would be waking up soon - she wasn’t an Olympic-level napper - but until then, she had a moment to enjoy the half-scripted pageantry of the Games, savoring the bittersweet combination of impossible victories and unpredictable defeats.  It wasn’t unlike her own life, in a way: she’d accomplished things she’d never imagined, uncovered truths too painful to endure, run up against her own limits over and over and overcome them all to be sitting here, in her comfortable home, with her stalwart partner, dragged back from the dead, and their miraculous children.  The glint in Jackson’s eyes as he argued with Mulder was more precious to her than any medal; the sound of Grace’s sleepy sighs stirred her heart more than any anthem.  She stood atop the podium of her destiny.

She leaned her head on Mulder’s shoulder and watched the marathon swimmers cut through the water, one stroke after another, keeping themselves afloat for hours. She understood their exhaustion.  She understood their triumph.

“I like the dressage,” Jackson said unexpectedly.  “It looks like mind control if you do it right.  I’m not, like, asking for a pony.  I just think it’s cool.”

“I knew we could find some common ground,” Mulder said.  “What’s your opinion on medals for horses?”

“Horse-sized medals,” Jackson said immediately.  “Bankrupt the IOC.”

“That’s your son,” Scully told him.

“No denying it,” Mulder said in a smug voice.  The broadcast changed to gymnastics and they all sat forward, watching in awed silence, as history was made.

[unprofessional-bard]

Cat and... Wolf?

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Request: hey! could you do a bigby wolf x shy but criminal reader? thank you!

+ shy criminal reader req anon here! i was thinking that the reader could be snooping around the office, trynna steal some High Profile folders and bigby is all 👀 gotcha now Bitch

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really- this piece is for reader's of all genders!

Summary: It's a game of cat and mouse, but between you and Bigby? It's the same, only he's no mouse.

Word Count: 1.750

Author's Note: The reader is ought to be a fable, so what better fable could there be for this scenario, if not an actual cat? I made the reader into Puss in Boots, I know that the author is Straparola and not the Grimms, but bare with me! It fits so well 😖 I hope you like this, anon! and let's pretend Bigby's office has a window...

Enjoy!

"Oh look, a cat!" Snow White kneels beside your original form, completely unsuspecting and scratches the back of your head. You headbutt her palm and purr loudly, trying to appear as normal as any other cat. "How'd you end up here...?"

"I thought stray animals weren't allowed in," Bigby comments, sensing something in your scent, but then immediately realises the mistake he's made, before Snow gets up and smirks back.

"Really? Do pigs count? Wolves?" She smiles and Bigby sighs loudly. "It's okay, it probably got in because of the cold."

It's a snowy, cold December evening. They leave chatting, but Bigby gives you a final look over his shoulder -over the sleeve of his coat- before they exit the apartment. You stay there for another few minutes for good measure and once they're out of sight, you start making your way up the stairs, to the floor where his office is.

You were being paid very well, for doing this - stealing the criminal file of the man who hired you. It was extra risky, sneaking into the sheriff's office; you could possibly get ripped apart because of this, or thrown down the Witching Well, but he was planning on paying you so well...

You hear just one person walking around the floor as you quietly trot towards Bigby's office and that someone turns out to be Flycatcher. Tsk, too easy, you smirk to yourself; stretch, yawn and meow.

"Huh?" Flycatcher turns around and notices you clawing at Bigby's door. "Hey there, little fellow. You wanna go in there?" You almost nod, then remember you're not supposed to understand him, so you meow loudly instead, then rub against his legs. "Uh, I don't think I should let you in..."

You're practically screaming at him at this point, clawing more and more at the door and jumping up toward the knob; it takes him a while, but your cries finally work their magic as he groans: "Okay, okay! Just don't take your piss in there, the sheriff will kill me if he finds out I let you in..."

You purr loudly and headbutt the sides of his calf as he twists open the lock to Bigby's office. This is going pretty smoothly, you think to yourself and as soon as he opens the door, you run into the dark, cigarette-smelling room. Flycatcher's saying some stuff to you, but you're too busy figuring out where the sheriff keeps all the files of the fables with criminal records, that you don't listen to a single word he says.

Once you're curled up on top of his desk, closing your eyes to "sleep", Flycatcher feels less guilty because you're just a harmless cat who wants to sleep in Bigby's office, what could go wrong?

Tsk.

You hear him leave, but still wait like that for another minute... for good measure. Once he enters the elevator and the floor goes quiet, you transform into your human form. You quickly light Bigby's table lamp and move in front of the sets of drawers to your right, but then turn around and notice you hadn't found a way out yet. That proves easy too, fortunately, a window on the other side of the wall- a big one. Your grin grows wider as you slide open the window and check the height for your drop: It's a long one, but the large trees in the park should allow you to land smoothly. You walk back and immediately begin digging through the messy pile of documents.

"Ugh, typical," You sigh quietly, annoyed at how unorganised Bigby was. No alphabetical order, no proper placement: Just files on top of others.

You and him had a brief history. It's not exactly romantic per se, not on your aspect anyway, you'd like to think. You liked playing around with him, he seemed to have a soft spot for you and, maybe -just maybe- you had one for him, but not as obvious and strong as his. You two followed entirely different lifestyles: You everything you did was somehow always against the law and, well, Bigby is the law. It would never work anyway...

Your brows furrow, Focus!

After a few minutes, you finally find the file and raise it up in triumph after closing the drawer. You want to take a peek, see what the man had done- his file was very thin, what could've he possibly done, that made him ask such a risky thing of you?

Just as you're debating, you suddenly hear urgent steps walk out of the elevator and immediately recognize them.

Ah, fuck...

You quickly hide the file into your coat and turn around right before he opens the door. A vague smirk appears on your lips and Bigby crosses his arms: "Should'a known that was you."

"Hi, sheriff," Your expression is calm and somewhat shy, if not a little mischievous.

"What are you doing here?" He growls by the doorway, not moving an inch from his place while you slowly make your way to the window.

"I wanted to see you," You lie, voice quiet, then bite on your bottom lip. He made you feel a little too nervous for your liking, for many reasons... and he knew every single one of them.

"You always were good at lying," He sighs in defeat, going soft at the sight of your reddening cheeks. It takes him a while to separate your emotions, whether you're actually nervous or not - why you're nervous, because of lying or because of him? Both?

You can't help but feel a little offended at his words and he sees that, which in turn makes him feel a little guilty. "Well," You say, tone giving away how you were feeling, but also giving away your urgency to get out of there: "I was about to leave anyway."

"What's the hurry?" It's his turn to smirk as he slowly rounds the table. You both make your way to the window and it's a little unsettling, but you fight to not give it away.

"I said I was here to see you," You reply quietly. "I saw you, now I'm leaving."

"Hm?" He's toying with you and you realise he might've, with very low possibility, caught you this time. You still had tricks under your sleeve, though.

"You're clearly not happy to see me, no point on waiting around-" You sit yourself on the edge of the window, but he suddenly steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes and crossing his arms again.

"Oh, I don't think so," He grins. "I didn't say I wasn't happy to see you..."

"You sure looked like it," You pout a little. Exaggerating your mimics sometimes worked with him. Sometimes.

"I-" He huffs. "It's been a long day, (Y/N)."

The way he says your name like that, softly, almost makes you purr. You offer a small smile: "It's good to see you, Bigby."

"You too," He gives you a meaningful look. You almost wanted to give yourself up, return the file and somehow 'go back to the old days', but your prize and Bigby now working for Snow put too many things at risk. If only it were as simple as that...

You had to get out of there, fast.

You look up to him with your signature smile, the one that made his heart melt when you first met: It's vague, the message behind it is unclear, but it's a sweet little gesture: "I heard Snow took over, how are you handling that?"

He lights a cigarette and you impatiently wait for his reply, formulating your plan to get out of there- an exit: "Can't say I enjoy it to the core... Used to be easier when-"

"When you played by your own rules?" You grin at him and after putting his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, he walks back over to you.

"More or less," He scratches the back of his neck and stands to your left. "Look. Knowing you, there's always more to it than just I wanted to see you." His soft expression suddenly turns into one of worry: "Are you in trouble?"

"No, no," You reassure him. "Nothing of the sorts. Not yet, anyway..." You bite your lip again. "Well, I'm going to assume you were off to some place but I'm keeping you?"

He doesn't say anything, just sighs and you know you're right. He looks like he doesn't want you to leave, but he's also on alert. After your last encounter, he knows he can't give into you - he knows he shouldn't trust you and listen to Snow's warnings about how you're just a thief who's using him.

Most of it was true, but you still -after all your time with Bigby- cared about him. There were a lot of people who wanted to hurt the sheriff, even after he caught the Crooked Man and restored justice, somewhat; you made sure to stay away from those jobs - jobs that aimed to hurt Bigby, even in the slightest.

The disappearance of an unimportant, forgotten criminal record wasn't one of them, though.

"Call me sometime, sheriff," You get up to be on his level, boldly cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb. He seems enchanted- under your magic as he leans into your touch and slowly grabs your hand in his. After a moment of peace and quiet, when you hear the familiar footsteps of Snow White approaching, you lean in further and whisper: "Don't be a stranger."

You can't tell if it was him who leaned in or you, but you placed a shy, teasing kiss on his lips. You soon realise it doesn't matter who leaned in first, as he kisses you back with a little more yearning and urgency, his hands cupping the sides of your face.

Just then, you hear his door opening and you part immediately, his hands lingering in your hair. Snow probably- no, definitely saw you two share a kiss, but before she can say anything, you jump out of the window. Bigby's heart drops in panic, reaches to catch you, but soon realises you transformed to your normal form mid-air and sighs, a faint smile on his lips.

"Who was that? What's going on?" Snow inquires, hands on her hips, looking very displeased.

But Bigby's smile only grows as his fingertips trace his cheek, where you touched him seconds ago, then he finally replies: "An old friend."

[mctherofdragons]

Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks. 

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly! 

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist. 

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______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

[forever-rogue]

Apples & Lattes

A/N: Not requested or anything, but I have been in my fall and Marcus feels, so here we are. Its just a lot of sweet fluff, but I hope you all enjoy 💕🥰

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“When are you going to finally settle down and get married?” you nearly choked on your wine as your mother calmly asked you the question you’d pointedly hoped wouldn’t happen. But here it was. Again. Just like so many other times.

Once you’d calmed down and cleared the sweet, red wine from your throat, you set your glass down and plastered the kindest smile you could muster up on your face. The air in the room was so thick with tension it was physically palpable, “I’m not.. I’m not even seeing anyone, Mom. I don’t think that’s a feasible question at this point.”

“But honey,” there was that sticky sweet and concerned tone again, “you’re getting older and still haven’t married. Aren’t you worried that you’ll end up alone? Why haven’t you found anyone yet?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern,” you sighed as you pushed your plate away, suddenly losing your appetite. You knew you shouldn’t have to come to Sunday Dinner at your parents’ house. Everyone else in the room was deathly silent - no was sure what to say or do, “but um, no, it’s never occurred to me. I don’t think about it, really.”

Oh, but you did. You just weren’t about to admit that to her just yet.

“Look at all your friends, and colleagues,” she wasn’t about the let issue go. Fantastic, you wanted to groan and slam your head onto the table then and there, “they’re all married, getting married, or starting their own families.”

“And that’s great for them,” you cut her off, “I’m just not there, and honestly, I don’t know if I ever will be. And that’s just fine by me. I don’t have to be like everyone else.”

“I just want you to be happy-”

“And I am,” you insisted. And you were - truly. But there was a part of you that did long for more... “really. I’m also busy with work - in case you’ve forgotten I run my own business. Besides, I just haven’t met anyone that’s really caught my eye.”

You’d gone on dates here and there, but no ever really seemed to be...the one. The one you’d be willing risk it all for and with. Sure, some were nice, really nice, and others were good for a night in bed, but you’d never deemed anyone worthy of more. Your time was precious, and you weren’t about to waste it on anyone just because, just so you could have a half hearted relationship that ultimately left you unfulfilled.

“Maybe you should be...less picky,” she suggested and you almost snorted laughter. 

"Listen," you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping lucky against the wooden floor, "this has been great and all, but I'm going to go. I didn't come here to be berated and belittled because of choices I've made. If I wanted that, I'd serve a customer a wrong order. And no, mom, I'm not going to be less picky or lower my standards just to find someone and please you."

"What if you ever find someone? You're so arrogant and stubborn sometimes-"

"Then so be it," you tossed the napkin onto the table and gave everyone a mock bow before turning to leave, "and then I'll be a lonely, but happy, old spinster!"

Before anyone of them could respond with so much as a sound, you stormed out of the room and out of the house, ready to be far, far away from them.

»»————-　♡　————-«

"Come on," you whispered under your breath as you reached for the last few apples on the branch. They were just out of your reach, and you were stretching precariously across the way trying to get them. The rickety old ladder under you wobbled slightly, but ignored its protests, reaching just a little more. These were the most perfect apples you had seen in some time and you needed them. Had to have them even. 

Which was exactly why you were risking life and limb for them.

Finally, one of them came into contact with your gloved and you had made a small sound of triumph. But before you grab it and put in the bucket hanging from another of the branches, the ancient ladder decided it had had enough. And it started to tip over, causing you to do the same.

Everything happened so fast you almost didn't have to react, instead you braced yourself for the hard impact with the cold ground. 

But it never came. 

Instead you felt yourself securely enveloped in a pair of strong arms. When everything felt safe again, you slowly opened your eyes and peeked around to study your surroundings. Instead of the hard, dirty ground, you meet a pair of warm, soft chocolate eyes.

"Are you okay?" If his eyes were sweet and honeyed, then the voice that met your ears was even more so. You tried to find your own and tell him that yes, despite almost breaking your neck for some apples, you were just fine. But nothing came out - instead you stared at him, feeling a flush of warmth wash over you. He seemed concerned for a moment when you didn't respond but eventually you nodded and he gently set you back down, "there you are."

"I...ugh...erm...thank you," your voice finally seemed to return to as you bit your lip, suddenly feeling more shy than ever. Where was this suddenly coming from? Was it because you had quite literally fallen into the arms of one of the most handsome men you had ever seen? Possibly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked with a warm chuckle. Slowly, ever so gently, he put his hand under your chin and tilted your face up to make sure there was no visible damage. His touch was like pure fire, sending a warmth and sparks throughout your veins.

"Yes," you said softly, giving him an affirmative nod, "just umm...apparently not very careful. Totally my own fault."

"That old thing wasn't helping," he gave the now ruined ladder a dismissal look, "it was ready to collapse at any moment."

"It didn't help that I was leaning over and trying to get those apples," you pointed at the few that remained, sighing heavily. You'd really wanted them, but now it looked like you'd have to leave them behind. Along with the rest that you had picked and left hanging in the bucket. Maybe you'd find some other good ones on another tree...

"Those?" he asked, pointing at the branch as you nodded sadly. A megawatt grin crossed his features as he walked over to the base of the tree, "the bucket - it's yours too?"

"Yes...I guess I should go back and get another ladder...hopefully they have some more," you were definitely more upset about your apples than you should have been. But hey, you'd been hunting for and picking apples for hours.

"No need," he said quickly. You were about to ask him what he meant but he quickly answered your silent question by climbing the tree and scaling the branch, effortlessly grabbing your bucket. But he didn't stop there - oh no. He siddled carefully along the branch and picked the remainder of your precious apples, setting them in the bucket along with the others.

Your mouth was open as you watched him in wonder, amazed by how effortless he made everything seem. Before you knew it, he was jumping down landing on his feet gracefully, a little smile on his face as you just watched him in awe.

"I believe these are yours," he said as he held out the bucket, filled to the brim with your treasures, "what's so special about these particular apples?"

"These are the perfect blend of tart and sweet," you said softly as you slowly took them from him, "for baking and making all sorts of pastries. They're hard to find around here and this orchard only has a few of the specific trees. So...I wanted to make sure I got them."

"And now you have them," he beamed at you as you struggled not to completely melt under his soft gaze, "I hope they serve you well. Do you do a lot of baking?”

"I-"

"Pike!" someone shouted as the man's face visibly contorted into a look of annoyance. You tried to hold back your giggles as he dramatically rolled his eyes, "we have to go!"

"I'll be right there!" he let out a long sigh before meeting your eyes again and giving you an almost apologetic look, to which you answered with a soft smile, "well, I guess this is goodbye."

"Thank you," you held out your hand for him to shake. He wasted no time in shaking it in his much larger one, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, "I appreciate you saving both my neck, literally and metaphorically, and getting my apples for me."

"Don't mention it," he said softly, "it was a pleasure to meet you. I didn't get your name and I -"

"Pike! Now!"

"Better get going," you jerked your head in the direction of the man that was shouting for him. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, you were reluctant to see him go, "thank you again."

He opened his mouth to say something else but instead his name was shouted yet again. Hanging his head in annoyance, he exhaled sharply through his nose, "any time..."

Not wanting him to get in any trouble, you took your apples and gave him one last wave before walking away. Your feet had never felt so heavy and every part of you was humming to turn around and go back to him. To at least get his name, first name anyways as you assumed Pike must have been his surname. But you didn't. Why bother? You'd never see him again and it wouldn't do well to dwell on him or what had happened. It was just an accident and he was a nice man that helped you. A one and done deal; it wasn't like you'd just met Prince Charming.

Then why did you want to turn around and run after him?

Marcus watched as you trekked away, wondering if there was actually a bounce in your step or if he was imagining it. He sighed deeply at what he already deemed the most annoying thing to happen in a long time. As he watched you, he realized that your scarf had fallen and been left on the ground. Marcus quickly picked it up, ready to rush after you and return it. But you were already gone. Clutching onto the soft, still slightly warm fabric, he tucked it into his pocket.  One way or another he would find it and return it to you. He was an FBI agent for goodness sake, it should be an easy task.

"Pike!" Marcus cursed under his breath as he turned around to leave. He would find you again, he vowed, no matter what.

»»————-　♡　————-«

By the way the man called Pike had been living in your mind rent free for what seemed to be days, you'd think you'd have done a lot more than exchange a few words with him.

But alas.

You'd had your one interaction with him and the rest had been daydream fantasies. You'd even let your mind wander so far as to wonder what it would be like to kiss those plump pouty lips that were burned into your mind. You wondered if he was always so kind and thoughtful or if it had been a matter of convenient timing.

Or something...it was a random encounter and you were just glad he had been there to catch you. 

As you another pie down to cool, you softly heard your name being called from the doorway. It was Sabrina, one of your several loyal employees, poking her head in and offering you a smile.

"What's up?" you asked as you wiped your hands on the rag over your shoulder before tossing it onto the counter.

"There's someone here to see you," there was something about the little grin on her face that had you intrigued. You tilted your head curiously, "just..come on."

"I'm busy with-"

"Come on," she innocently with wide eyes as you laughed lightly, amused by her persistence. You didn’t normally have people come and directly ask for you...not unless it was an off moment and someone was mad about something trivial, “the apple pies can wait.”

“I almost died for these apples,” you joked, stripping off your apron and laying it down on the counter, “this better be worth it.”

“Oh, I think it will be,” she promised as she held the door open for you and let you go in front of her. As you walked up to the counter, you prepared to put on your best customer service voice, hoping whatever little problem it was could be solved with a smile and a slice of pie.

As the person came into view, your mouth dropped open as he quickly locked eyes with you. His own mouth quickly turned into a grin, his warm, soft eyes almost twinkling. 

“Hi,” you barely managed to choke out as you walked over to him. You hadn’t expected to see him again. Ever. But here he was, in your own little coffee shop out of all the places in the world. This had to be some sort of dream, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Hi,” he replied, producing his hand from behind his back, holding out your scarf to you. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten about it, having made peace with the face that you’d probably lost it somewhere. But this was most definitely a welcome surprise. Your favorite scarf back - and hand delivered by a handsome man? This was definitely too good to be true, “you dropped this at the orchard last weekend. I wanted to make sure you had it back.”

“Thank you so much,” you gently took it from him, clutching the soft fabric tightly to your chest.

"You found me..." you said softly, amazed by his sleuthing skills. You hadn't even gotten the chance to give him your name and he had still found you. But then again...surely a coincidence..."how did you manage that? I didn't even get a chance to give you my name..."

"Well, it's kind of a part of the job," he said as you raised an eyebrow at him. His mouth formed a small o as his cheeks took on a pink tinge, "I realize that doesn't quite sound right. I swear I'm not some sort of stalker."

"That sounds like exactly what a stalker would say," you laughed as he hung his head in mock defeat, "even if you are, it was very kind of you to return my scarf."

"FBI," he admitted softly under his breath as you mulled it over. It would explain the suit, which you thought fit him perfectly, but then you caught a quick peek of a badge under the jacket. You were sure it said FBI on it. Maybe he was legit, "I work for the FBI."

"How perfectly mysterious," you teased with a small wink, "all this trouble for a scarf? I'm just curious...how did you put it all together?"

"Itwasformorethanthescarf," he mumbled so quickly you weren't able to quickly catch everything. Before you could ask him for clarification, however, he continued, "it wasn't hard really."

"Oh?" you grinned, "do tell. If you've got the time, of course..."

"I do actually-"

"Wait!" you almost jumped in excitement as a wicked little idea crossed your mind, "do you like apple pie?"

"Its my favorite," he admitted shyly.

"Great," you beamed at him, "I have fresh apple pie, with the apples from last weekend! You have to try it. How do you take your coffee?"

“A little bit of cream and a healthy amount of sugar,” you couldn’t help but grin at the simple order, thinking it suited him perfectly. You motioned for him to sit at a quiet little table in the corner as you got to work. You could feel his kind eyes on you the entire time as you prepared your coffees, hoping you made it to his liking. 

Sabrina must have been lurking nearby and listening as she popped out with two plates of warm, fresh pie. Flashing you an innocent smile, she flounced over to Marcus, and set the pie down with an overly cheery smile.

“He’s cute,” she whispered as she pushed past you, “you’ve finally found a keeper it appears.”

“I don’t...no,” you insisted as you grabbed a mug in each hand, “he’s not...I don’t know him.”

“Oh, but you will,” she winked before waving at a newly arrived customer and going to attend to them. 

You bit your lip, letting out a long sigh before turning around to go back to him. You weren’t going to get lost in your little daydream fantasies...not yet at least. 

“Here you are,” you set the coffee in front of him as you took the seat across from him, “I hope it’s okay.”

“Perfect,” he promised as he took a long sip. Grabbing a fork, he looked at the pie as you encouraged him to take a bite. He took a big forkful, giving it a thorough look over before putting it into his mouth. Almost fighting back a moan at how sinfully delicious the pie was, all he could do was nod before taking another heaping bit. You had been right, these apples made for some delicious, maybe the most delicious pie he had ever eaten, “holy shit.”

“Good, right?” your voice was singsong sweet as you took a bite from your own plate. His eyes were wide as all he could do was devour the remainder of his plate, “I’m telling you, it’s the apples, they make all the difference.”

“I can see why you were willing to break your neck for them,” he agreed. You’d converted another one, “I’m glad you didn’t though…”

“Me too,” you stared at your plate for a moment, “otherwise no one else would be able to make this delicious pie. Now tell me, mysterious FBI Agent, how did you find me?”

“It was simple,” he admitted, “all I did was look up the apples, and low and behold, an article about the woman that loves to use them for her renowned pies popped up. It just so happens that it was the same woman that fell into my arms when foraging for said apples. And she owns a café in the city where I work. I took it as a sign.”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you listened to him. You should have realized it would really be simple for anyone to find you, but the fact that it was him just sent a spark through your veins. He had chosen to go through all of this trouble for you, “ahh, well, I should have realized it would be easy to find me. Either way, thank you for going through all of this trouble to bring back my scarf.”

“Any time,” he promised like it had been no big deal in the slightest. To him it wasn’t, not for you anyway. That much he already decided. He said your name softly and you wanted to melt then and there. That voice. That honeyed, sofy baritone already did a number on you, “I was wondering-”

“Hold on,” you licked some of the pie filing off of your fork as you waggled it at him, “you know my name now, but I still don’t know yours. Although if I remember correctly, that annoying man that called you away kept calling you Pike.”

“Marcus Pike,” he confirmed, holding his hand across the table for you to shake. You eagerly took it, trying not to marvel at how large and soft his was, “or Agent Pike. But you can call me Marcus.”

“Marcus,” you repeated his name, deciding you liked how it sounded, especially coming from him, “I like it. It suits you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “umm, I’m sorry, I interrupted you earlier, what were you going to ask?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to-”

“Boss!” Sabrina had the most impeccable timing as she poked her head back out from the kitchen, “I need your help. I’m having trouble with the oven…”

“Can it wait a few moments? I’m sure it’s-”

“Fire,” she said meekly, “small fire, but fire…”

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath as you jumped to your feet, instructing her to get the fire extinguisher, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. It was nice to see you, Marcus. Thank you...for everything. I really appreciate it. You can just leave your plate and mug, I’ll grab them later.”

“No problem,” he said as he watched you all but run away, sighing lightly to himself. More perfect timing. He drummed his fingers along the table before stacking the plates and grabbing your mugs and taking them to the spot you had designated for dirty dishes, despite what you had told him. Before he walked out, he got a quick burst of genius as he quickly grabbed a napkin and the pen from his suit pocket, scribbling down his phone number. He leaned over the counter and tucked it near the register, hoping you would see it and know it was from him. 

He hoped you would keep it and get back to him. 

He hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Several weeks had passed since you had fallen for Marcus. Literally of course. The jury was still out on the metaphorical part. Okay...that was probably true too. He was living rent free in your mind, occupying many of your thoughts throughout the day. 

You’d found his number and after finally convincing yourself to text him, you found yourself exchanging texts with him throughout the day. It was on and off of course, with you at the cafe and him at the FBI, but was nice. It always brought a smile to your face to see a text from him. 

It had even led to him asking to take you out on a date, a proper date.

You said yes, naturally.

But that was almost three weeks ago, and the date had yet to happen. 

The first time you got ready to go out with Marcus, he canceled at the last moment. You were already all dressed and ready, makeup and hair done when you'd gotten the hectic call. It was work, naturally, and you couldn't blame the FBI agent. He sounded genuinely upset to cancel, but promised he'd make it up to you soon. At least you'd gotten some decent selfies out of night, even if you ended up eating Chinese takeout and watching Netflix.

The second time, you had to cancel on Marcus. It was the morning of your redo date night, and you had found at the last moment that a well known food journalist wanted to interview you. You were reluctant to go and cancel again, but Marcus had been more than encouraging. So you went and Marcus ordered a pizza and binge watched some cooking shows on TV.

The third time it was a mutual cancelation. Marcus' parents came to surprise with a visit and you ended up with a stomach bug. Both of you were reluctant to cancel, and swore the next time it would work out.

It had to, right? Surely things would happen this time.

But no.

The fourth time around, you were both thoroughly determined to make things work. It was going to work out this time. It had to.

But once again, fate had different plans.

You and Marcus had made all of your plans, and you'd decided to leave work early to go home and get ready for your date, and were ready to finally spend time with him. But it turns out the restaurant you'd selected was booked for the evening and your reservation had been given away. Marcus had a last minute briefing for a big case he was working. Once again, the universe had decided it was not meant to be.

Maybe...maybe it wasn't meant to be at all.

"Why do you look so upset?" Sabrina asked as the two of you set up some Christmas decorations around the shop, "you look like you're going to burst into tears any second."

"I'm just..." you were cut off by the sound of the bell, signaling a new customer. You quickly told her you would handle it as you walked up the counter. But your dismay quickly turned into hope and butterflies when you saw that it was none other than Marcus, "hi."

"Hi," you'd already forgotten just how much you adored that soft, gentle smile.

"What...are you doing here?"

"Well, my meeting ended early," he explained, "and I figured that even though our reservations were canceled, we could still have our date...finally."

"Really?" you tried to contain the pure delight that was flowing through veins as he slowly nodded, "I'd love to but-"

"We can handle things from here, boss!"

"I'd love to," you beamed at him, "I'm just...little underdressed."

"I know its nothing fancy," he started as you pulled off your apron and tossed behind the counter, "but I was thinking you could come over to mine? I don't want to brag but I'm a pretty good cook, and I've got some new wine I've been meaning to try. I hope this isn't too forward, I just thought a quiet evening in would be nice."

"I'd love to," you agreed eagerly. Sure, you'd only talked to him mostly through text or on the phone at this point, but you already liked him a lot - trusted him, "it will be nice to finally have our date. I was starting to feel like the universe might be against us."

"Everything happens as it should and when it should," he promised as you grabbed your purse, "and by the way, I think you look beautiful."

You didn't even bother to try and hide your smile at that point. 

As it turned out, Marcus was an excellent cook, and the wine was indeed delicious.

You spent the night at his, despite your original intentions, but one thing led to another and soon enough you were in his bed, unsure where you ended and he began. 

It was the first of my many such nights.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Falling in love with Marcus was easy. You didn't even have to think about it. It started out as a slow, gradual thing which soon blossomed into something you had never experienced before. At first it was scary, but like with everything else, Marcus made it wonderful.

At first it was things like good morning and good night texts. Then it was him randomly popping in to see you during his lunch breaks or you stopping into his office when you had some downtime.

Then it was the random evenings spent together - he stopped by your apartment with your favorite take out if he knew you'd had a rough day. You'd let yourself into his if you knew he was working late and make dinner and dessert.

It was the late nights spent watching silly movies or having a catch up on your favorite shows. It was lazy Sunday mornings spent in the kitchen the two of you cooking and dancing to slow music that was on in the background. It was Saturdays spent exploring new places and cities, or spending the day in bed, tangled up in each other. 

It was the way he seemed to say I love you in a million different ways, without even saying the words. But he spoke them all the time as well, and you never once doubted their truthfulness.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Soon the fall turned to winter which turned to spring. In the spring was when he asked you a huge question.

"Move in with me?" it was so soft, so gentle, and completely out of the blue. You were laying in bed on a Sunday morning, the sun streaming in through the large, open window, along with the cool, crisp air. Marcus had his coffee on the nightstand as he read the morning paper and you were laying on his chest, watching the morning news. It was the perfect slow, lazy morning.

"What?" you asked as you turned your face to look up at him, a confused expression on your face. Surely you hadn't heard him correctly...

"I asked if you'd move in with me," he repeated casually, flipping to the next page of the paper. He was putting on a cool façade, but the corners of his mouth were tugging into a nervous little smile.

"Do you mean it?" you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the soft, golden skin of his bare chest. He peeked over the paper and slowly nodded before you snatched it gently out of his hands and tossed it to the side, "really?"

"Of course," he grinned, "we already send most nights together, and half of your stuff is already here...I just think it makes sense. But if you'd rather not, or wait, I understand too."

"No," you said firmly, swinging your legs over him so you were straddling his waist. You leaned down and kissed him softly, his lips melding against your own, "I want to, Marcus. Really."

"Not too soon?" he asked as he gently stroked your cheek.

"Perfect timing," you promised, "its like you always say, everything happens as it should and when it should."

And so within the month you were moved into his apartment, now yours as well.

It was easy to fall into a daily routine with him. And getting to fall asleep and wake up next to your lover every day? It always seemed too good to be true.

»»————-　♡　————-«

The apartment that became your home soon turned into a small, quaint house that the two of you got together. Although the apartment had become yours just as much as his, this was the next chapter of your lives, which you were fully ready to embrace.

It had been two falls ago that you'd met Marcus, and while it had been your favorite season before, it most definitely was now.

You didn't know what you did to deserve Marcus, but you were so glad you did. Waiting for him had been entirely worth it.

"Catch up babe," you called to Marcus as he trailed behind you, a metal ladder tucked under his arm. Ever since your encounter with the rickety wooden ladder that you had falling into his arms and life, he'd insisted on a sturdy metal one.

"I'm coming," he promised, a smile on his face, his cheeks tinged pink from the cool breeze, "besides, I'm enjoying the view!"

"Cheeky," you slowed and waited for him to catch up, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he did so, "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too," he said softly as he leaned the ladder against the base of your favorite tree. The very tree you'd fallen from during your first meeting, "let me go and check the apples. They look promising this year."

"They'll make the best pies ever," you agreed as he slowly climbed up and took the buckets from you.

"May this year you'll teach me the secret recipe," he said as he disappeared into some of the leaves.

"Nope," you teased gently, "it's Nana's secret. Only family can know it."

"We're practically family," he laughed as he poked his head down to peer at you.

"That may be so, my love," you agreed, "but you have to make an honest woman out of me first. Nana's rules."

"Oh, I will," he promised as your cheeks flushed with warmth. You had meant it mostly as a joke, but there was something about the tone in his voice that suggested he wasn't, "I'm going to marry you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," he insisted as he gently climbed down the ladder, landing on his feet with a small plop, "I am going to marry the hell out of you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Agent Pike," you teased as you traded places with him and got ready to climb the ladder to start picking your prized apples. He stopped you for a moment, his hand on your neck as he pulled you in for a passionate, but gentle kiss. It was the kind that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs and thoughts from your mind, even after two years. You hoped it always would. You were sure it always would.

"I would never do such a thing, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, "now go and pick your apples. I'll be here to catch you if you fall. Always."

"My hero," you grinned before starting your ascent, already keeping an eye open for the best apples of all.

As you searched, you noticed that Marcus seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. You decided not to worry about it, attributing it to tiredness and a late night...but if it continued on, you'd ask soon. 

"Anything good?"

"Hmmm..." your brows were furrowed in concentration as you reached for a few partially obscured apples. But instead of the soft roundness you were used to, felt something square and almost velvety. A small sound of triumph escaped your lips as you grabbed it...but then you slowly lost your balance and felt yourself slipping from the ladder.

"Sweetheart!" just like he had before, Marcus gently caught you in his arms. You looked at him with a sheepish grin as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "are you okay?"

"Right as rain," you beamed, "I guess some things never change, huh?"

"I'll take a lifetime of catching you," he said softly, "what happened?"

"I felt something," you said triumphantly as you displayed the little square box. As you studied it, you quickly realized it was...a jewelry box, "what is...how did this..."

"Open it," Marcus insisted as he slowly set you back onto the ground. You looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded. You popped the box open slowly, your breath taken away almost instantly.

Nestled safely into a soft, black velvet cushion was a beautiful diamond ring. It was simple, almost understated but elegant, nothing too large and garish. It was your favorite cut and color, both of which you'd only mentioned to Marcus in passing. You never thought he'd remember...or were you expecting this.

"Marcus," you were struggling to hold back your tears as you looked between him and the ring, "this is...are you..."

"Sweetheart," he delicately took the box from your hands, and pulled the ring out as he got down on one knee. This was happening. This was actually happening. He let out a shaky breath as he reached for your hand, "I love you more than words can describe. You have made me so, so happy. The past two years with you have been the best, and I hope we have so many more of them. I'm glad you fell into my arms then and today. I will always be there to make sure you're safe. So, in order to learn your Nana's secret recipe and to make you an honest woman and me the happiest man, will you marry me?"

"Yes," it came out without hesitation, without a second thought or single reservation, "yes, I'll marry you. I love you so much, Marcus."

"Really?" he had been so sure that you wouldn't say no, but the fact that you had said yes relieved all of the remaining fears he had. You nodded fervently as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He quickly slipped the ring onto your finger before reaching up and wiping the tears away.

"Of course," you promised as you grabbed his face and kissed him, "I love you so much, Marcus. Everything - you are everything."

"I think that's you, sweetheart," he wrapped his arms around and held you tightly against him, "thank you."

"For what?" you laughed lightly, "you're always saving me!"

"You've helped me in so many ways," he promised, "I never thought...I never tonight I could love like this again. More than I ever have..."

"Me too," you promised, "I felt like I was gonna have to wait forever...waiting for you. That's what it really was. It was worth it. You were worth it. It's like you always say, everything happens how it's supposed to, when its supposed to."

"Exactly," he whispered softly, "I am so in love with you."

"And I you," you kissed him again, lingering against his lips as you took in all of him, "now - help me pick these apples or we won't be able to bake pies."

"We?"

"I guess you can know the recipe now," you grinned, "we're family. We've been family already."

"But not married yet," he said as he held the ladder for you.

"Close enough," you grinned, "I love you, Marcus."

"I love you, sweetheart."

»»————-　♡　————-«

“So when are you going to give us grandchildren?” as soon as the words hit you, you almost dropped the fork that was halfway to your mouth. Your face instantly warmed up as you turned to Marcus, ready to profusely apologize to him for your mother’s ever so straightforward nature. There was a tinge of pink in his cheeks as he gave you a little smile, “you’ll have such beautiful babies!”

“Mom,” you turned to her with wide eyes as Marcus put his hand on your thigh, tracing gentle, soothing circles onto the material of jeans, “we’ve only been married a few months. There’s no rush and it’s none of your business when and if we do.”

“I’m just saying, honey-”

“Mom,” you groaned and silently pleaded for her to stop. For once in her life she appeared to understand what you were saying, “please.”

“You’re right,” she calmed herself down as she grabbed a glass of wine and quickly finished it, “it’s entirely your decision, when and if. Either way...I’m happy for you, both of you. You truly deserve it. I know it took a long time, but I’m so glad you found your sweet Marcus.”

“Me too,” you agreed, calming down ever so slightly, “he was worth the wait.”

“I had you falling for me from the start,” he teased as he looked at you with the sweetest eyes, and the silliest of grins.

“You’re the worst,” you proclaimed, unable to contain your own laughter, “but I’m glad for that rickety ladder, and the almost lost scarf. Look at what it got me - the best part of my life.”

“I love you,” he whispered as everyone around the table awed at the two of you. 

“I love you too,” you replied softly as you turned back to your plate, “now let’s get onto something else. Who all is going to come and pick apples with me for the shop this weekend?”

»»————-　♡　————-«

“I’m sorry about all that,” you sighed, shaking your head at your mother’s antics as you walked hand in hand with Marcus to your favorite little dessert spot. It was late, but not too late, so you’d both decided that a little sweet treat was necessary. And you had something else on your mind that you wanted to tell him as well, and figured it was best to do so when it was just the two of you, “she’s a little much...a lot much.”

“Don’t worry,” he gave your hand a spot squeeze, “you know my mother is just as bad.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t do it in front of half the family and basically ask when we’re going to have planned sex!” 

“So we shouldn’t tell her we have sex all the time?” he gently nudged your side as a smile worked its way back onto your face. That was definitely not a lie...like everything between the two of you, the sex was good, very good, and plentiful.

“I’d rather not,” you chuckled, suddenly feeling nervous about sharing your news with him. Naturally the two of you had discussed the possibility of children, and it was something that the two of you both wanted, but were not in a hurry necessarily to get into. You weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren’t not trying to get pregnant. It would happen when it happened, the two of you had decided, and even the doctor had told you that it would sometimes take a while for it to happen, especially after coming off of birth control.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked after a few moments of silence. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you’d noticed that he’d been talking this whole, until there was nothing but silence on your end, “you’re thinking much too loudly.”

“I was just…” you tugged on his hand and he stopped, giving you a concerned expression. It wasn’t like you to just fall into silence and shyness. Marcus gave you that soft smile you were a sucker for before reaching you and gently touching your cheek, “you know I love you, right?”

“Of course,” he said fondly, “and I love you, sweetheart. I thought that was kind of obvious at this point, but if I need to keep reminding you, I have no problem with that. I will do all day, every day.”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out before you could chicken out and wait for a different time. You wanted to tell him, to share your nervous excitement with him, “I...surprise.”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, a million different expressions crossing his features as you nodded, trying to decipher his reaction. Gods, you hoped he wouldn’t be upset, or think it was too soon. While it was true you’d only been Mr. and Mrs. Pike for a few months, you’d been together for several years now. Surely, this wouldn’t be upsetting...but in the moment you were questioning everything, and suddenly felt sick to your stomach, “pregnant.”

“Yes,” you breathed out anxiously, “I found out a few days ago. I just...I was trying to find the right time to tell you. And then my mom...of course she’d ask now, and it just…everything feels so overwhelming and I’m so nervous and scared and I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want you to be mad or upset…”

“Mad?” he asked incredulously as he took your face in his hands, “I could never, ever be mad at you. Especially not with something like this.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No,” he promised, “I’m happy...so happy. This is wonderful news - the only other day that could compare was the day we met and you fell into my arms...or the day you said yes to marrying me...or our wedding. But this? This is amazing.”

“I just...I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” you admitted, “I just got off birth control and they told me it could take a while, and I thought we’d be fine with waiting, you know? Like it would happen when it would happen. And then boom - pregnant.”

“Everything happens just as it should,” he promised, closing the minuscule gap between your faces and pressing his lips gently to yours, “I love you, so much. Nothing is ever going to change that. Now it’s you, and our baby.”

He slowly slid his hand down to your waist and then over your still nonexistent belly, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. You leaned into his touch, burying your face into his chest, “I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re excited, I am too. Nervous but excited.”

“And we’ll figure this all out together,” he promised, “you know I’m with you, every step of the way.”

“I’m so...I’m so lucky you’re in my life, Marcus,” you said softly, “you came along right when I needed you, when it was supposed to happen.”

“Like I always say, things happen as they should,” he wrapped his arms around you before kissing the crown of your head, “you have made me happier than I could have ever imagined. Just out of curiosity, how far along are you?”

“Almost nine weeks,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning at him. You could see him doing some quick math in his head, “yeah, I will admit I wasn’t the fastest on the uptake on that one.”

“Nine weeks,” he repeated, “so you got pregnant like right after you got off birth control.”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “it didn’t take much at all. Guess that means we got lucky...or something. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a whole little gang of baby Pikes.”

“I’m not opposed to that idea,” his eyes practically lit up at the idea. You didn’t care if you ended up with one or more, as long as they were happy and healthy. But you wouldn’t complain about more either, especially if they took after Marcus. Marcus, the kind hearted, handsome love of your life. You kissed him softly, wishing this moment never had to end, “but we’ll take it as it comes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we can do it all together.”

“We’re a team,” he promised, “now, are you the two of you ready for some ice cream?”

“Sounds perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[vi-is-short-for-violence]

New Frontier A Hollow Knight and Bug Fables crossover OC fic.

Full fic is under the cut!

PLEASE REBLOG!! MANY HOURS WENT INTO THIS AND I’D RLLY APPRECIATE THE SUPPORT!!

It had been a very interesting trip, taking the ferry from the continent Bugaria resided to the main continent known as The Outlands. Team Snakemouth, the heros of Bugaria were treated like celebrities everywhere they went. Everyone knowing them all by name and singing their praises, and if some weren't convinced of their greatness, many times bugs would contest them in combat and were quickly swayed into seeing their power. Vi especially enjoyed this attention.. being one of the first bees to truly venture beyond the Hive and find her place in the world as an explorer and rouge. The other two would often need to reel her in. Usually Leif did not mind Vi's more combative nature, so long as it wasn't a major risk.. though her pride is what both Leif and Kabbu would regularly keep in check. Leif appeared largely indifferent about their praise, but beneath his cold exterior, his friends knew he couldn't help but be grateful and flattered. Kabbu on the other hand loved the praise as much as Vi did, but unlike her, made sure to ground himself. If their mission around the legendary Everlasting Sapling taught him anything, it was that nothing was indestructible. Not the sapling, not his team, and certainly not him. After their first adventure however the one thing they all unanimously agreed on, was that they longed to continue their quests and even venture beyond Bugarias borders, and travel the mainlands.. The Outlands. They set sail into the world... the main continent.. the setting of their greatest adventures yet.

Team Snakemouth now walked on these ancient grounds.. and already the way they'd seen the world was beyond different than the world that came into view around them all. Chompy, the fourth and most beloved member of the team, who was resting comfortably around Vis neck and shoulders spread her autumn colored leaves.. taking in the bright sun. The other three gave a breath of pure awe.. The Outlands were full of rocky and mountainous terrain. Great mountains could be seen in the distance, their might and elegance seen plain and true even in the most distant horizons. "OOOUGH WHERE DO WE GO FIRST?! THE MOUNTAINS? THE PLAINS? THAT GIANT CLIFF?? OR- OR MAYBE WE COULD SEE WHATS OUT AT SEA OVER THERE!!" Squealed the VERY excited honeybee! "I'm not sure Vi! But my.. it is truly beautiful.. just as the tales foretold!" replied Kabbu. Looking just as giddy as Vi! The sun shining onto his iridescent green shell. "We feel like we've entered an entirely different realm. We can already feel an abundance of magic and energy here.." Leif remarked, spreading his navy blue and pale yellow accented wings. "Yeah yea, but can you imagine what kinda crazy treasure we could fine here? I heard this place is ancient as HELL!" "If I recall correctly Vi, The Outlands were settled eons before Bugarias continent was! It was filled with ancient scattered kingdoms." Kabbu knelt and placed his clawed hand on the ground, as if he were resting his claws on a monument of ancient history and peering into its secrets. "Hundreds of years ago, these lands were barren wastes. Polluted and corrupted with a dark substance.. These Outlands were once called The Wastelands, lawless and filled with mad bugs. That is why these scattered kingdoms existed. In a world devoid of life and law, someone had to do something." "Are these lands not still devoid of law? Law only exists in those kingdoms still we'd imagine." Inquired Leif. Kabbu stands back up and looks at his moth friend. "Well, yes and no. Some of the rulers of these lands keep an eye on the Outlands as a means of protecting potential citizens." Vi looked at Kabbu and raised a brow, "Jeez how do you even know all this stuff Kabbu?" "Well! If we planned on visiting this place, we might as well get to know it's history a little better." Vi shrugged, "Meh, fair. But hey, there's a lotta history in treasure toooo.~" "We anticipated a response like that. Lets not dally then. Kabbu, you know more about this place than either of us, do you know where we could head first?" Kabbu hummed wonderingly. "We could potentially head for the mountains, there are a fair few kingdoms there and we could stock up on supplies for the rest of our journey!" "FUCK YEA MOUNTAINS!!" Vi cheered, much to Kabbus displeasure hearing her curse like that again. "VI!! Watch your language!". Leif proceeded only to laugh.

It had been a long day, traveling to the base of the mountains. Bandits and beasts making attempts on their supplies and even their lives. Nothing they weren't used to really. Though there were a disturbing number of poachers. A dark stain from the Wastelands past economic practices; slaying bugs and selling valuable parts of them to the black market. Primarily wings, fluff, horns, hard shells and stingers, unique defenses of specific bugs, even certain pheromones to lure in bugs like ants. To say that their encounters with the poachers did not shake the group up a fair amount.. would be a dirty lie. They triumphed, but were still very on edge if they could harvest them. The sun began to set however, and the quartet was weary from the long day. Not a bad day, only a long one. Whimsy tainted by the reminder that the life of an explorer was still a dangerous one. Regardless, the team kept their spirits up. Knowing that the next day would bring great discovery! Following a nice meal and usual banter expected of their team, Team Snakemouth set up their temporary beds, and went to sleep for the night. Though one member of the team was far less of a deep sleeper than the others.. hearing faint, yet heavy footsteps, caused on of Vis antennae to perk up. She perked up, slowly looking around the area.. bathed in moonlight, yet sheltered from it in some areas with the rocks and shelter of the mountain and nearby terrain. But she could clearly see it. In the distance.. a tall, large and shadowed figure a fair distance from the team. It's silhouette was not one that Vi could identify, it appeared to have multiple horns, but the rest of its body held no defining traits. No abdomen, no wings, just a horned head and a long cloak.. as well as.. something spilling from its head that nearly dragged against the ground. Was... this even a bug? The lack of identifying features deeply frightened the bee. She remembered the last time she saw something like this. The reminder of the canniness of the Dead Landers shot a spine straight through her of pure fear and stress. This was... big. Not nearly as big as that.. thing with those large orange eyes was.. but it was still big whatever it was. Vi, now thoroughly terrified, slowly grabbed her beemerang and slowly approached the large rock that sheltered them from outside sight. Slowly she turned back to look at the figure. They appeared to sit down, back against the base of the mountain, sifting through items that Vi could not properly see due to the lighting. She squints to try and get a better look, before her heart was thrown into the base of her stinger. It looked at her. Two bright blue sparks for eyes stared directly at her. As quick as she could she immediately ducked back behind the rock, stifling any and every sound she made by desperately covering her mouth. Claws digging into her cheeks as fear overtook her. Dammit! Being stuck in this sort of situation scared the hell out of her, no, terrified her beyond words, but at this point she was starting to grow frustrated. They were fighters goddammit! Not cowards! Her and the others took out way worse than this, she- they could do this! So then why would her limbs not move an inch? Why was she still paralyzed with horror despite her frustration and rebellion against these intense feelings of fear?? She held her beemerang in a death grip, shaking intensely, which only grew worse when those footsteps began to approach once again. Move. MOVE! "VI! KABBU! CHOMPY! ON YOUR GUARD!" yelled out another voice. The familiar crack of Leifs magic smacking against the carapace of an enemy bug, as the large figure stumbled backwards with a grunt. Leif stood over his resting spot, glowing with that cold, blue magic. Kabbu and Chompy following suit. Chompy let out a horrendous roar, the chomper had grown in size since the teams first adventure, and while not as big as the mother she would eventually become, she was still quite formidable. Horrifyingly, the other "bug" let out an enormous and otherworldly sounding roar in response, as the appendages that came down its head flared up like black vines. Even Chompy recoiled at the sight. The creature leaped back, drawing a large sword and glaring with those bright blue eyes. "Vi!" Kabbu looked over to the trembling bee. "Come on, it's okay. Lets take care of this!" He held out his hand to help her up. Snapping out of her paralysis, she glared a serious look at Kabbu. "R-right!". The dark figure loomed over all four of them. Squinting at them as they readied for battle. "Four on one don't seem too fair.." it spoke.. it's voice, surprisingly normal sounding, though it had a sort of accent that struck the four as unfamiliar. "Yeah?! And NEITHER DOES SNEAKING UP ON A GROUP WHILE THEY'RE ASLEEP!!" Shouted Vi, anger and fear clear in her young voice. She threw the beemerang with all of her might, making a sharp CRACK as it made contact with the beast. It growled.. "I was doin no such thin' lil girl! I saw you gettin' a good look at me while I was lookin' through mah thin's!" Kabbus expression lightened a bit, "Wait- then maybe this was a misunderstanding?". The creature huffed, "S'fine. M' a big guy after all.. tend t'scare a few bugs out ere.. but since ya'll got up wantin' a fight then lets have one!" The creatures voice went from a gruff, tired and frustrated tone, to sounding as if it had all the energy in the world with the prospect of a battle. "BRING IT ON BIG GUY!! WE'LL WIPE THE FLOOR WITH YOU!!" Vi angrily shouted. Kabbu and Leif looked to one another, Vi's rage evident in her tone and posture. Kabbu and Leif knew there was no bringing her back from that, but they couldn't simply leave her to fight alone. They straightened themselves out once more. The creature turned out to be quite quick for its size, and it was able to take one hell of a beating. The Team would need to react quickly to block and chip away at its health. Saving Team Points primarily for healing and reviving, as well as low cost special attacks. Unlike The Everlasting King, it could heal but it could not steal health from them, and healing spent its entire turn. What sucked however was that his defense was high and his attacks hit hard. It was tough for sure, multiple times the team would go down, but they got right back up thanks to Kabbus pep talk and Vis shared stash. Eventually, for as long as the fight went on, it eventually ended with Team Snakemouth as the victors. As the beast finally fell, the light of dawn spilled over the land. Everyone was weary and very injured. The beast chuckled, "Good fight... hh..hhh.. ain't had one like that n' a while I gotta say. Good job.." "Who.. hhh. are you.?" "And more importantly WHAT are you..?" Kabbu asked before quickly being interrupted by Vi. With the light of dawn more of the beat became visible. Its horned head was an off-white shell, that looked almost like a mask, even the right side of it had a long crack that stretched from the top of its head to the base of its chin with some grass stains littering it in some places. It wore a black and grey patchwork cloak with a blue medal clipped to it and lastly, it's eyes. Not fully blue, in fact mostly black with blue pupils that looked like sapphire rings. What spilled down from its head however? None of the bugs could identify. It wasn't antennae, or fur, and while they somewhat looked like vines, they were smooth and black and even appeared to glimmer as if they were wet. "M'names Finnley. M' from a far away Kingdom ere.. betcha mighta heard uh Hallownest. But guessin yer not quite sure what I am thats- actually a toss up huehue!" Kabbu perked up a little bit. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but be excited. "I have heard mentions of that place, yes! But its whereabouts and information I am unfortunately unaware of." It was hard to tell, but Finnleys face appeared.. vaguely happy.. despite lacking a mouth and appearing more like a mask. "Well. S'where me n all my kind 're from. We're vessels, n all of us 'r siblin's too! Ya might actually run intuh a few'uh us out ere!" Leif canted his head slightly, "Vessels. An odd name for a species of bug.." "Yeah and how are ALL of you siblings?" Vi interjected, skeptical of Finnleys claims. "Well it's a long ass story, one ion't think you'd wanna hear all of from me. But you stick round long enough you'll find out soon enough. S'pretty common knowledge ere." Finnley perks up a bit. "Oh! Shit I should probably heal yall up actually. Er, gunna need t' hold yalls hands t'do it though, if ya don' mind." Leif extended his hand, aware of what this could be. He's proven correct when white energy swirls around Finnley, moving over to Leif. Patching up his wounds. Soul focus. An ability utilized by only gods, higher beings and powerful mages. Kabbu and Vis eyes widened. "Woah what the hell?? How did you do that??" Asked Vi, amazed. "Soul Focus." spoke Leif. "But we believed only higher beings, gods and powerful mages could do something like that.. we did not take you to be any of those things." "S'a long story, again, like I said. But ey. S'th' least I can do after scarin yuhs." Finnley chuckles before healing Kabbu, Vi and Chompy as well. "Thank you kindly Finnley. We should likely introduce ourselves as well come to think.. My name is Kabbu. This is Leif, this is Vi, and this.." he lifts up the chomper plant. "Is Chompy!". Finnley giggles again, stroking Chompys head with his finger. "D'aw! Cutie pie! S'one hell of a murder machine but a cutie pie nontheless." "We agree wholeheartedly." Agreed Leif. After a while of speaking, Finnley gave the group a map of the Outlands, as well as what places to avoid, and a list of hotspots to rest up and stock up before actually making it to a kingdom. "If yer thinkin' uh goin up t'the mountains, ah'd suggest goin t' Xhalyun. Eroanne's nearby Xhalyun too n both 'r cold as hell, but Xhalyun shit is a helluva lot cheaper than Eroanne, closer too." Finishing that thought he handed Kabbu the map, to which he made a delighted squeak of excitement. "Thank you kindly, Finnley. Despite first impressions I am very glad to have run into you!" Leif nods in agreement as Finnley lifts up his bag. "Ain't no problem sir. I wish ya'll luck out there. N hey, maybe if we meet again ya'll can tell me shit bout Bugaria. Been wantin t'head over there myself someday." "Oh you'd love it there! It's a wonderful place.." Finnley nodded, before kneeling down to Vi. "Ay kid, sorry fer scarin' ya." He holds out his hand and Vi raises a brow. "Let's battle again sometime aight?" Vi hesitates for a second before her usual smirk returns to her, placing her hand in his for a handshake. "Abso-goddamn-lutely heheh!! Better be a bigger challenge next time though!!" Finnley gave a great laugh and stood back up again. "You too kiddo! If you ain't gettin better ain't no damn point in it! I'll catch ya'll later uh?" "For certain. Take care." remarked Leif with a smile, as both teams parted ways.

As the towering Vessel took his leave.. he chuckled to himself.. "..Seeker.. Wanderer.. I wish ya'll could come with me when I go t'Bugaria.. I know ya'll'd love diggin' intuh th' place.." "...Maybe one day we will.. I'd love that."  

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 6 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 1890

You had to think for a moment about what you had just said when David asked. You went over your words, realizing what you had just told them. What you had just admitted. You knew what they were. You knew that they were vampires. But you were also fairly sure that it wouldn't make a difference. They had already planned on eating you that night, and, if anything, you had just sealed your fate. So, you didn't hold back.

"I said that you're vampires, David." You looked straight at him, clearly challenging him. Even with the tears in your eyes, you knew that you had managed to give him a cold look. You could hear the venom in your own voice, and you gaze didn't waver when he stared back. Why should it? They were going to kill you anyways. Being afraid now wasn't going to change anything. "You, Marko, Paul, Dwayne," You paused for a moment, before you decided to really throw all caution to the wind. "Max." You said the name, and you watched as something, something too quick to place, flickered across Davids face. Some of the other boys were a bit more obvious. Pauls breath had hitched at the mention of their sires name, and Marko's grin had fallen from his face completely. Instead, he hid his mouth behind his hand and seemed to be half-way towards chewing his thumb off. Dwayne frowned, and his gaze was so intense. But it wasn't a glare. The boys had been laughing before, but they weren't laughing now. Neither were you. Your eyes never left Davids, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He stood, and he was in front of you in a second. You couldn't help how you flinched back, taking the smallest of steps backwards to steady yourself. David grabbed you by the shoulders, but he didn't laugh. He didn't smile. Instead, he asked,

"How do you know all of this?" And it felt strange. To be a step ahead of David. To know something that David didn't know. He always seemed so in control, and, perhaps, that's the only reason you were still alive. In a moment, you realized this was the only way to stay alive. You were going to have to stay ahead of him and play your cards right. As bitter as you felt towards him and the others at that moment, you still had a chance. And you weren't going to throw it away. You stared at him, and said,

"Give me my phone and I'll show you."

You made a decision that you knew you wouldn't have made if they hadn't been such assholes before. You had bought and downloaded the movie for a car trip a few months before, and you set your phone up on the table across from the couch. The five of you squeezed onto the couch, the little screen less than three feet away as the opening sequence started. You sat at the far end of the couch, with Paul next to you, Dwayne in the middle, Marko besides him, and David on the other far end. You didn't know why, but you had a feeling that David didn't want to be near you at the moment. You knew too much. More than he could control. And he wouldn't know just how much you knew unless he did what you wanted. In other words, David was stuck not being the one in charge of the situation. Marko, however, seemed to be the most skeptical of the bunch. He was still calling bullshit on the whole thing, and it seemed he would be thinking that way until he saw the movie with his own eyes. He made that fairly clear by saying, 

"This is all a bunch of bullshit- I'm fucking starving." He said, and you tried not to think about just what he planned on eating. Paul, without prompting, passed him a half-eaten bag of chips, and you looked over to see him grumpily snacking. Dwayne seemed completely neutral, and hadn't spoken a word since you'd revealed what you knew. He seemed to be waiting to see how things went, and you didn't fault him for that. However, Paul seemed to be the easiest to convince. Or, perhaps, he simply didn't care and was just excited to have you sit next to him. He did still think that you were hot. You weren't surprised when he had his arm around the couch behind you before the title had even shown up and you quickly told him,

"Watch the movie." When you saw him looking at you. And then the boys watched as the carousel scene started. 

The camera panned up, and the boys stilled before they even saw who it was. First, his boots, then the tail end of his jacket and then- David. There he was clear as day. There was no denying it. The boys had probably expected a different beginning to the movie, to meet the main characters and their assumed victims before they saw themselves. But each of the boys watched as they appeared on the screen. David, Dwayne, Paul, and then, finally, Marko. You couldn't help but be smug as you looked at all their surprised faces.

"Holy shit." Paul said, and you couldn't help but smile. Finally, now you were getting somewhere. "I'm fucking hot." He continued, and you rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the first thing he'd think. But, he did admit that it was him. The other boys shushed him, with Dwayne telling him to, 

"Shut up." But you were too busy thinking about how you had succeeded. This had to convince them. There was no other way to go about it. They couldn't just deny what they were seeing with their very own eyes. You grinned, leaning past him to look at the other boys. 

"I'm sorry, who's crazy?" You asked, and looked at Marko specifically. While you hadn't wanted to admit it at first, his comment had cut the deepest. Marko rolled his eyes. He shooed you off, but it didn't stop the feeling of triumph you felt. Dwayne and David were too busy staring at the screen, watching the scene on the carousel unfold. They watched as the surf-nazi's attempted to fight them and how the security guard broke it up. You looked over at David, seeing how he squinted his eyes. When the next scene appeared, David wore a grin as they watched the security guard be ripped up into the air. Along with his car door.

When the Emersons appeared, the boys all let out a collective groan. Apparently, none of them cared about them, and they just wanted to see their scenes. You took this as a good time to talk, and you moved in your seat so you'd be partially facing the boys.

"Convinced?" You asked them, and you watched as all of the boys tore their eyes from the screen. They were quiet for a moment, and they even paused to look at one another. Even though you were positive they couldn't be anything else, you still felt a bit nervous. Finally, after a moment, David said,

"Maybe you're not crazy." And you felt a wave of relief wash through you. Honestly, you couldn't have expected a better response from the boy. You knew not to expect an apology, at least a real one, and at least they were admitting that they had been wrong. It made you completely relax, and a large grin dawned your face. It was one of the first real smiles you had that night. Even if you'd been more relaxed at certain points of the night, you'd always had nerves at the edge of your subconscious. Always had to monitor how you acted, how you talked. Make sure that you didn't say anything that would let it slip that you weren't from this time, or this dimension. But now? You let yourself slump completely back into the couch, and let out a long, heavy sigh. You had succeeded. No ifs, ands, or buts. You went back to watching the movie, and you missed how the boys seemed to notice your sudden change.

Paul had gotten up to grab some more snacks, and everyone except David was chewing on something that wasn't a cigarette by the time the sax man came onto the screen. You couldn't help yourself. You had seen the movie and listened to the soundtrack so many times that you knew all the words, and you had to at least hum it to yourself. That lasted for about five seconds before you were singing along with him. Marko, already having decided that he didn't care very much for Michael, threw some cheesy popcorn at your phone when he blatantly stared at Star.

"Jesus, man. Creep alert." But Dwayne was quick to take the bag from him and pass it to you instead. If only for the sake of your phone. Paul dug his hand into the bag, and, around a mouthful of popcorn, he said,

"Yeah, and who is that chick anyways?" He asked, and you gave a small laugh. Mimicking her voice and tossing your hair over your shoulder you said,

"That's Star. She's the main love interest." And Paul gave a small laugh while Marko smiled. To your surprise, even Dwayne gave you a look and a small quirk of his lips. While you had been petty before, you were quickly starting to go back to- well, normal wasn't the right word. But, it was getting easier to joke with them again and to be a little less angry at them. The only one who seemed not in a joking mood was David, who was keeping his comments, surprisingly, to himself. Until, Max came onto the screen. They all let out a collective groan at the sight of their sire, and you snickered at their reaction. Though, the boys' moods quickly turned around when they saw themselves again. They watched the movie, spending most of the time making comments here or there. They decidedly didn't like the Frogs, but none of them considered them that much of a threat. You refused to tell them anything when prompted, and you almost regretted having agreed to show them the movie. Regret began to eat you up inside, and it was the main thing clouding your thoughts until Marko let out a loud,

"Ha! Star's with David!" And he leaned his head back to let out a loud cackle. Paul laughed along, and David even let a smile dawn his face when he watched how disappointed Michael became. Especially when Sam had little sympathy for his brother. Paul and Marko were quick to begin teasing the platinum blonde, and Paul even leaned over to make kissy faces at him. Completely missing the sight of the little kid, which they didn’t notice until Dwayne asked. You noticed how they seemed to enjoy the killing scene of the two surf-nazi's a little too much, and you tried not to let it make you uncomfortable when one of the boys besides you stomachs growled. It didn't take you long to guess what they really needed to eat, but none of them had made a move to eat you yet.

[berena-cpr]

Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x reader (Part 4)

A/N: Here is Part 4, I hope you enjoy. I just want to say thank you for the kind messages, comments and the likes i have received for the series so far. They mean so much. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Not my Gif and please don’t post my work on other websites. 

Warnings: Strong Violence and swearing

A brief summary: Y/N is heading home to London and is doing her best to put Birmingham and Tommy out of her mind. Tommy on the other hand is determined to track her down.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Word Count:  1939

Tommy leaned against the wall of the warehouse, casually smoking, staring coldly at the two Ricci brothers sat in front of him.  The Ricci’s were small time criminals compared to the notoriety of the Peaky Blinder’s and when they had realised that Tommy would be out for revenge for trying have him killed, they had been quick to try and flee. Not quick enough though, a couple of Peaky boys had brought them to an empty warehouse where the Shelby brothers had been waiting. The two men were already bloody from the punches they had taken on the way here, but they both did their best to hold their nerve under the three pairs of dangerous eyes looking at them.

“You cowardly fuckers put out a hit on my brother.” Arthur said, his voice dripping with menace. He slowly circled the Ricci’s, like a lion evaluating its pray, waiting for Tommy to give him the order to pounce. “Don’t even have the balls to try and take us on yourselves.” John spat in the face of the younger of the two, although both men were considerably older than he was. “Maybe we should take off what balls they have got? Clearly don’t know how to use them.” Arthur moved in front of the older brother, holding his cap in his hand, bending the peak of it back to show of the razor blades sewn inside. “Bastardo!” the man shouted. In less time than it takes to blink Arthurs fist smashed into the side of his head knocking him off the chair on to the floor. He covered his head as Arthur kicked him repeatedly. “Who. Said. You. Could. Fucking. Speak!” He shouted between kicks. John had started punching the younger brother, who had tried to make a move when Arthur had thrown the first punch. Tommy dropped his cigarette, stepping on it to put it out, he slowly walked over to his brothers who were mercilessly beating the men in front of them. “That’s enough.” Tommy’s voice was deep and calm, despite the scene in front of him, instantly halting his brother’s onslaught.

The older of the men simply laid on the floor moaning quietly, his brother pushed himself up and spat out a mouthful of blood which landed straight on John’s shoes. Tommy’s hand grabbed John’s arm as he moved forward, questions needed to be answered, meaning one of the Ricci’s had to still be able to speak. “Now, tell me” Tommy began, taking one of the chairs and sitting in front of the man knelt before him. “how did you contact the person you hired to kill me?” Tommy was leaning into the mans face. “Why should I tell you anything?” Ricci asked, “will you just let us go if I tell you?” Arthur let out a cold laugh, John smiled while chewing on a toothpick and Tommy leaned even closer. “You tried to have me killed Mr Ricci, if I let you go what sort of example would that set?” Tommy’s voice was so steady and relaxed he could easily have been discussing a small business deal, not the fates of the two men in front of him. “But I’ll tell you what, you tell me what I want to know, and Arthur and John here won’t go to pay your family a visit.” Leaning back in his chair Tommy took out his pocket watch and examined it, before letting his eyes lift to meet the wide eyed, panicked man before him. “They will be about halfway to the house you sent them to now wont they. You see Mr Ricci, the taxi driver is on our payroll, so I know the exact address they will be staying at.” Tommy couldn’t help but relish in the look of realisation dawning over Ricci’s face, it was the look of a man who knew he had been cornered and had no way out.

“Fine. There is an address in London, you tie a red ribbon around the metal railings there. You must write your name on it, with the address of where you are staying, then you will be contacted.” Mr Ricci’s eyes were down to the floor in defeat, his brother was still whimpering on the floor next to him, but he could feel the icy daggers of Tommy Shelby’s eyes piercing his flesh. Tommy held out a piece of paper and a pen, “Write it down.” He ordered, watching as the address was noted and the paper handed back to him. “Good.” Tommy said simply, standing up and putting the paper carefully in his pocket, he waved his hand and in a flash Arthur and John brought down their caps and took the eyes of both Ricci brothers. Turning and walking out he barely registered the dying cry’s behind him, to wrapped up in the excitement of being one step closer to Y/N.

Tommy inhaled on his cigarette, a victorious smile played across his lips, it was remarkably bright compared to the dingy warehouse.  He stood their basking in the afternoon sun and in his triumph as Arthur and John came out to join him. “Get rid of ‘em.” Arthur said to the two Blinders who had been waiting on orders. “What next Tom?” John asked, his blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement. Tommy looked at his brothers, seeing the love they had for this life dancing in their wild eyes. “I’m going to London. Alone.” He added quickly as Arthur went to speak. “I’ll drive down from here and stay with Ada and Freddie tonight, they aren’t far from this address.” Tommy patted the pocket where he had safely stored the paper. “Ring Ada for me John, let her know I’m coming, and ask her to go out and buy me a bit of red ribbon.” Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette and began to walk away. “What about me Tom?” Arthur called after him. “Do whatever you want Arthur.” Tommy called back over his shoulder, he was too excited to stop, he hadn’t felt this exhilarated in what felt to him like a lifetime.

Y/N looked out of the train window at the passing countryside, she was now far from the dirt and smoke of Birmingham and was enjoying the bright colours and clear skies before the inevitable return to dirt and smoke that awaited her in London. She knew that each mile being put between her and Tommy should make her feel calmer, but instead she had an overwhelming desire to get off this train at the next station and go straight back to Birmingham. Being near to Tommy had been like standing at the very edge of a cliff looking out at the most beautiful view she had ever seen and even though she knew the ground could fall from beneath her feet at any second, there was still a voice in her head telling her to jump over and into the sea below. Y/N spent the rest of the journey having a fierce internal battle, half of her was committed to forgetting Thomas Shelby even existed and thinking it ridiculous that he had any effect on her at all in such a short amount of time. The other half of her was able to offer no coherent argument or firm reasoning but instead longed desperately to be back under the gaze of his eyes.

When she got off the train in London it was already nearing dinner time and hunger had overtaken all other emotions. Y/N moved quickly through the busy London streets, listening to the calls of the stallholders who were trying to sell at least one last thing before packing up for the night, and after stopping briefly to grab some bits for dinner she was finally home. She lived on the middle floor of a shared tenement house, it wasn’t much and with her savings she could certainly afford more, but this was the world she felt comfortable in. The back door was just for her use, it meant she could come and go without drawing attention and the neighbours were less likely to notice if she were away for days at a time. Y/N tried not to get to attached to people or places, but this was the house she had lived in the longest, and despite her best efforts she had grown to care for some, if not all, of her neighbours. The family upstairs consisted of a father, who was either at work or drinking his wages at the pub, a mother who gambled away what little money made it home and their four children. Most of the food on their table was thanks to the money the older children earned running errands for Y/N. She never asked anything dangerous of them, but she paid them good money to keep a look out for red ribbons tied to a gate three streets away. Downstairs, there was a nice couple with a young baby who mostly kept to themselves, Y/N wasn’t even sure of their names, but still the wife was pleasant enough speak to when their paths crossed.

After unpacking and having a quick dinner Y/N was ready for bed, it wasn’t particularly late, but the events of the past few days had taken their toll, she was just about to change for bed when someone knocked at her door. Y/N grabbed a knife and made her way downstairs, she didn’t get visitors and it was to late to be one of the children from upstairs. Slowly she opened the door revealing the face of the woman from downstairs. “Oh, good evening, everything alright?” Y/N asked, carefully keeping the knife hidden behind the door as she held it open. “Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you, it’s just I was wondering if you had a bit of ribbon going spare?” The woman was young and had thick Birmingham accent that Y/N had never taken much notice of before. “Ribbon.” It was the only word Y/N could manage, it was more of a statement then a question and she was trying hard not to panic. “Yeah,” her neighbour continued “red if you’ve got it. My bloody brother has invited himself down and wants me to get him some ribbon. God knows why he wants it and why it has to be red, but I left it to late to get the shop. Karl hasn’t been very well today, so I had to wait for my Freddie to get home and watch him. You don’t look to well yourself.” Y/N had been frozen as she listened, a cold sweat beginning to form on her brow. “No. I haven’t.” again she had to fight with herself to get words to come out “Night.” She muttered as she pushed the door shut. Y/N felt her legs begin to wobble beneath her, so she sunk to the floor, listening to the footsteps moving away on the other side of the door.

“Fuck.” Y/N whispered, holding her head in her hands. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she never bothered to remember what her neighbours name was? She had done her research in Birmingham and knew that the Shelby brothers had a sister named Ada who had moved to London, but when she learned that the sister was nowhere near, she hadn’t looked any further into her. Y/N had thought her irrelevant to her job. If she had dug a bit deeper in Birmingham, if she had gotten to know her neighbour better, she would have realised sooner than this, that Ada Shelby lived downstairs from her. “Fuck!”

@comebackjessica​ @nemesis729​ @spacenijntje​ @hinagiku0​ @fruitloopzzz​ 

[jangosweat]

Surprise (Part One)

Pairing: younger Boba Fett x female reader Summary: Boba is on a mission, you happen to have more than just some information for him. Length: don't @ me ok this got away from me pretty quickly, the gc chose violence the other day and my brain ran the fuck away with it so... LONG. Warnings: NSFW, Boba smokes in this ok (smoking is bad ofc), strong language, explicit content, alcohol consumption, virgin!Boba, eventual p in v Tagging these bucket fuckers: @batfamily14 @kavecika @aurea-corde @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando @onabouteverything @rosethornsxx @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @deewithani @hobbitlover23 @thisgirl-knm @adonishxney @vegethiagoddess @the-siren-writes-it @tibbietibbs @meabravo @kenob1 @theifofstars @metchachotto @blissful--moon @mysticalgalaxysalad

ENJOY!!!

It was a shame really, having flown out all this way with a strong signal until the night Boba Fett had landed his ship down on this bustling planet, after a month of hunting and beating the information out of humans and a few droids he needed for his latest quarry he had come up short.

He hated being let down, he was on a roll with capturing quarry after quarry, bringing them to their knees with a swift prowess only he seemed to encapsulate. His father's genes he would think thoughtfully as he laid in bed. The cuts and bruises would soon fade, adding to his track record as being one of the up and coming best bounty hunter in the parsec. He was making a name for himself, preening when he'd enter some dive bar or cantina, all eyes on him and rumor had it that if you saw his painted beskar, someone was in big kriffing trouble.

A pompous man only known to the hunter by the name of Tarrik was all he knew and that the client he was hired by wanted his payment. Now.

Boba tapped on his holopad, filling in his planner of sorts, archiving his triumphs as he sat wide legged at the edge of his bed aboard Slave I. He bit his lip, opening a new tab on the blueish screen, setting his sights on a map of the city. He used his fingers to expand the map, reaching absently at the table next to him to retrieve a lit cigarette of sorts. The shredded tobacco type substance was sweet and fragrant, coils of smoking spiraled around his fingers before he took a drag and kept on with his search.

He was on the right planet, nearby to where this theif was either hiding deftly among the people and aliens just outside from the landing areas restricted section or he was one step ahead of Fett and that thought alone made his eyebrows crease together. That was his job, to be on the Frontline, to outsmart his naïve prey. He sighed and kept the map page open, looking from a top view of what looked to be a little shopping center, a jewelry store with the name Tarrik's Trinkets lit up neon on the screen.

....

"Did you take inventory yet?"

"I'm on it right now!" You called back to one of your coworkers, she was on her way out to lunch, leaving you in charge of the jewelry store for the next hour. Your boss Tarrik had left a rather cryptic note of explanation that he had a family emergency and you and Juni were to be in charge of keeping to store up and running for the next few days.

She shrugged on a jacket, careful not to snag the flow of her long head-tails before leaving, telling you she'd bring you back something sweet.

The low chime of the store from the door opened and closed as you grabbed the holopad and set to work.

Only a few moments passed when you heard the chimes again, crouched underneath a display case you sing songed out. "Back so soon?"

You were met with silence.

That's odd you thought, you know you heard the door open...

"Juni?"

More silence.

When you finally stood to your full height you didn't see a soul in the store, you set the holopad down on the glass counter and rounded about the side. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon."

You jumped at the voice that answered you, that was definitely not Juni. You turned around to find a tall man, covered literally head to toe in some sort of hard armor and gloves, not a lick of his skin was presented to you, a T visor looked down at you. 

Stealthy son of a bitch you thought as you relaxed a little.

"Oh! Good afternoon sir." You smoothed your hands at your sides, curious as to who he might be. You've seen and met quite a few strangers, of all sorts but none as mysterious as the man before you. He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement and rested his gloved hands at his waist, fingers displaying on a utility belt.

"Nice place you've got here." His voice was covered with a thick modulator, you could hear the nice smooth tone of it even through the slight crackles.

"Thank you, we pride ourselves on serving the best and making the best. Even the gentry have been known to visit from time time, by their aides and associates of course. Is there something in particular you're looking for sir?" You asked.

The helmeted man looked around the empty store then back to you after a moment. "Is the owner perhaps around?"

"Not today. But I can be of any assistance you might need."

The man hummed and tapped his belt, strong and quiet as he peered around again as if casing the joint and that set you on edge, tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you moved back behind the display case you were just working on.

"Do you do customized pieces?" The man asked, turning on his heel to see where you had scurried off to.

"Of course we do! Do you have something in mind?"

The man pondered and leaned against the top of the case, a sweet smell wafted into your nose as he looked down at some of the pieces laid out on a fine Vermillion felt. "What might you suggest?"

"Is it for you or a someone special? A partner perhaps? A special occasion maybe..."

"I'm not a married man if that's what you're asking. Jewelry doesn't fit in with my armor. Someone special I suppose."

"Alrighty, how special are we talking?" You asked using one of your hands to showcase what you had at this case. "We have earrings, these are a popular buy or if want something more flashy we have bracelets and necklaces over there."

"A necklace will do I think."

"Excellent! Why don't you follow me over here then," you waved him over and he followed slowly after you, stopping to look at how nicely you had placed the varying lengths and sizes of adornments. "What kind would you like? Have you seen them in something familiar in style or coloring? A gemstone or two maybe..."

"What would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What would you like to receive as a gift?"

Oh.

No one had ever asked you for your personal opinion on the matter, not in that way at least. You had modeled a few items for your customers, if you were a similar size neck or wrist for the client but never had someone asked what you would prefer to wear.

No one had bought you jewelry before so the question had you stunned for a moment to think.

"Well... I don't like gaudy items, I'm more of a dainty subtle kinda' girl. If it were me, I'd go with a lariat style. It's just enough to catch someone's eye and when the sun hits it just it right, you know it's something special."

"Hmm can you show me? Might be interested in something like that." The man was sold you could tell, you were top in sales last month after all.

You smiled and bent down and brought out the style you were talking about, proudly showing off the necklace. "What do you think?"

The man hummed and touched the slinky necklace, as if he could feel the smoothness through those thick gloves. "Classy. You said I could add an gemstone no?"

"Absolutely sir, whatever modification you'd like we can do. It will cost extra of course." You explained and the man chuckled through his modulator.

"Of course. Money is of no expense to me smart girl. Three emeralds will do I think."

Emeralds? Three emeralds no less! This man had expensive taste and could afford it.

"Placement? They would like very royal spaced out like this," the man nodded once in agreement once you showed him your idea. "How about length?"

His T visor rose slowly from the necklace, taking his time to look at you as if you could see his face underneath. "Their about your size I suppose."

"For my neck I'd prefer a sixteen inch in length."

"Let's do it then."

That was easy, you smiled and made a quick sketch on a spare holopad nearby, a glimpse of what his custom piece would look like and cost. He agreed to the amount and gave his signature on the pad.

All it said was Mando when you took it back.

"As I'm sure you're aware sir, Emeralds can take some time to set, about a week or so, is that ok?"

"Absolutely." The man breathed and took out a strange looking square of steel, placing it in your hand before he took a step back and took his leave.

The chimes of the door sang again as he left, leaving you with his personal comm link number on the back of what looked like an imperial credit business card. But no name was present.

....

Boba thought of you while he took off his armor for the night, snagging a few bags of food from a very skittish man and woman at a food stall on his way back from the shopping market.

You had called him Sir, either out of sheer politeness or intimidation. Not that he was taught to call attention to himself or his armor or profession, like his father had instilled in him as a boy, but it alarmed him. Took him down a notch. He was just a man to you, clad in his father's beskar. He wasn't scary to you and that humbled him, where his name proceeded him nowadays, being unrecognizable was in a way a touch of honey to the battered man.

You didn't know his name like so many others had. Didn't cower in fear that he was possibly after you. No, he was after your boss. He didn't want to scare you, he was after one man not an army and certainly not a shopkeeper like yourself.

He had hoped you would call him the next day, give him details about the necklace that he bought on a whim with no real flesh and blood person to give it to. It was a means to an end, get in good with you, nonchalant and easy in order to find out the whereabouts of Tarrik.

It was only one meeting with you but as he sat in just his underclothes, untying the bag of steaming food, he couldn't help but feel a little off about using you. Strange as that may seem.

You didn't call the next day or the next after that, four days later he wondered if he should stop by the shop again just to see. Scope it out even though the puck he toyed with wasn't blinking.

He lit one of his cigarettes while he cleaned his armor, leaning his hip against one his many weaponry crates that made their home in the hull of his ship. He let it dangle from his lip before maneuvering it between his front teeth as he cleaned his helmet. The unsuspecting call from his comm link took him out of his routine, he popped the piece next to his chest plate into his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mando?" You sounded unsure of yourself, Boba narrowed his eyebrows as to why until he realized his helmet was in his hands, not placed on his head.

"Speaking. Everything going alright?" It never occurred to him that he had given you a name to call him but he didn't catch yours, too preoccupied with his song and dance of trying to sus out information and how you smiled at him. Not knowing the predator he truly was.

"Yeah yeah everything is fine with your piece it's just you forgot to put in your credit information. I was looking it over and-"

"When should I come in?" Boba stabbed out his cigarette.

"Oh uh whenever you're free would be great, were open until nine tonight if that works out for you?" You sounded excited and nervous which made him feel the same.

"I'll see you soon then."

You fumbled through some goodbye by the sound of it, Boba smiled and got dressed.

....

Tarrik's Trinkets seemed to be in a rush, there were people picking up some of their cleaned items and some were being helped, you were behind the register handing off a bag to a very excited young Twi’lek couple, they even kissed in front of everyone. An engagement Boba thought to himself, smiling under his helmet. As he made his way through the busy little store the engaged couple made eyes with him, wide ones as they hurried past, even as he had gave them a pleasant nod of his helm. 

The people outside in the shopping center had done the same when they had seen him strolling through the street.

None the wiser were you to his presence, another girl was asking you a question before returning to her own set of waiting customers.

He didn't know why all of a sudden a strange pang in his gut hit him then, she was close to you, her face next to your ear her hand on your elbow as you turned and answered her.

Boba Fett waited for the crowd to die down, patiently waiting towards the back wall full of portraits  of clients showing off the jewelry that was made here.

But once the rush was over he watched you close up the drawer and hang your head with a bit of exhaustion, your hands on the tabletop before he took his turn and made his way over to you.

"Busy night huh?"

You sprang up at the distinct tone of his modulated tone, eyes wide with Sprite but with a smile. "Mando! You’ve gotta’ stop sneaking up on me."

"I told you I was coming."

"Yeah but I didn't think so soon!" Your smile made him smile, you took out a holopad from underneath the glass, scrolling through until you found his name and lack of information. You handed it over to him.

"You said you closed at nine, wanted to get here before you closed." Boba answered while tapping in his numbers.

"Were still open for another hour, Mando." You countered, a flirty smile on your face as he handed the pad back to you.

"Had to be sure you didn't forget about me."

"How could I forget?"

So this was happening.

Usually when Boba flirted it was for information, nothing more than that and in a way it was exactly that but something more, some lingering feeling that felt natural when he spoke to you. 

The women he did flirt with always wanted something from, dank farrik everyone wanted something from him. To hire him to use him to dispose of him when they were through, he didn't let it bother him too much to waste sleepless nights on it but sometimes it hurt. Just a little bit. 

You were genuine about it though as he studied your face.

"So what is there to do around here? I haven't been on this side of the planet in a long time." He wanted to keep you talking, to hear your voice.

"Well that depends, what do you like to do? I doubt hiking with all that armor on." You pointed.

Boba chuckled, smiling at the fact he'd just left the dessert before landing here a few days ago. "Not exactly. What do you like to do?"

"Well I like art so I go to the museums a lot. There's quite a few bars and cantinas around too. A bunch of stuff really." You shrugged.

Boba hummed along and took a chance. "Do you go out for drinks a lot?"

"Sometimes I'll go out with Juni after work."

"Juni?"

"Oh! My coworker, she's around here somewhere." You looked around the store but didn't see her, neither did Boba and he was grateful for the one on one conversation.

"Ah ha. You know you never did tell me your name the other day."

You're face had look of shock when you looked up at him then. "I didn't?! That wasn't very professional of me, was it?”

"I won't tell on you."

You bit your bottom lip before apologizing, adding your name at the end with your hand out for him to take. It was dwarfed by the size of his hand and glove.

He cemented it to his brain, rolling it over and mouthing it behind the beskar of his helmet. "Mesh'la."

"Excuse me?"

"Mesh'la. It means beautiful in my native language."

"Oh! I like that."

Boba suddenly realized he was still holding your hand before he took it back gently. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" You cocked your head. "You wanna ask me out?"

Very bold little one.

"Maybe. Would you go out with me? Just for a drink, you can tell me about all the other places I should visit while I'm waiting."

"Sure. Why not?"

Boba's stomach twisted at your coy smile. "It's a date. I'll be waiting outside."

"Outside? Mando I still have an hour to work!" You protested.

He tapped the side of his helmet and the clock counter showed him the time. "Forty-five minutes. I can be patient." Boba then patted the glass counter, noticing the way you twisted in place as if bashfulness had grabbed you by the throat and strutted towards the door, looking over his shoulder at you still watching him as he chimed through the door.

He had done his job and damn well if he was being truthful to himself. He was proud and took up post just to the side of the store front, noticing how others jogged across the street from him while a few reckless others strolled by giving him a side eye.

They're lucky I'm not after them he thought as he checked the time again, only three minutes have passed and for some unexplained reason all he could do was picture your face and repeat your name over until it sounded faintly like an ancient prayer.