#or ill just reset expectations with a new summary

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 2/8

Yeah, this picture should be illegal.😮‍💨

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

Although in doubt at first, you eventually got used to having a bodyguard, someone following you around wherever you went. For the most part Ruben kept his distance, a silent flash in the corner of your eye. He didn't speak if not spoken to and he drove in a separate car than you and Taylor just to have a better eye on what was happening in the street. It all seemed like standard protocol for a bodyguard. However, you quickly found out what mite distinguish Ruben from others in his field.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself longing for a fun-filled shopping spree with your close friends. Follwing a long week of rehearsal and studio sessions, not to mention the many interviews. You yearned for a taste of normalcy, away from the glaring spotlight and hordes of people wanting things from you. Determined to make your dream a reality, you shared your plans with your management team, a.k.a. your sister, oblivious to the storm it would soon unleash.

"What do you mean you need a break?"

"It's just one day off."

"A day off? Y/N do you know how much preparations we still have ahead of the drop of your new album, ahead of the tickets release of your world tour?"

"I do and that's why I need one day to reset. I just want to go downtown with Elvis and Keke. They say there's a huge sale on Birkin bags."

"God, why did you give me this job of taking care of someone who never listens?"

"Because he knows I need you." You smiled.

She sighed. "You've got two hours."

"Four."

"Three and you're taking Ruben with you."

"No way!"

"Yes way, especially if you're going out with those crazy friends of yours."

Ruben hadn't expected you to leave the apartment today and he definitely didn't expected you to barge into his room without knocking first.

"Oh, sorry." You said, lowering your gaze at the sight of a shirtless Ruben.

"Do you mind?"

"I'm sorry I..."

Ruben was just another shirtless man, nothing to be flushed about. However you had never seen that much outline of muscle on a human being before.

"I'm just letting you know that I'm going out." You said, speaking to him but looking at your feet.

"Alright, just give me a minute and I'll be right there."

"Right."

You slowly raised your head, a slight ache in your chest.

Ruben turned to look at you, furrowed brows. "Was that all?"

"Whatta hell is that?"

Ruben was wearing a type of undergarment. A piece of fabric that surley resembled a..."

"It's a bullet proof west."

"What for?" You frowned.

"Taking bullets."

He grabbed his t-shirt from the bed, buttoning it over his vest. It was barley visible underneath.

"I know your not wearing that for my sake." You scolded. "Don't expect anybody to shoot me up, especially not Mr Dickonataor 3000."

Somthing flickered across Ruben's face, another tinted expression, this time with a hint of a smile. He sealed the last button's to his shirt and stepped up to where you stood. "Always expected the unexpected Y/N."

His warm sent is what overwhelmed you,  but also the the sound of his voice when he whispered your name.

"I'll tell Taylor to bring the car around."

You nodded. "Okay."

It was obvious that when Ruben caught wind of your desire for a carefree shopping day with friends, alarm bells rang in his head. Ensuring your safety was his utmost priority, and the thought of you venturing into public without his watchful eye deeply unsettled him.

"Oh my god, did you hear about Tanya?" Elvis gasped. "She obviously OD'd last month but the press has us thinking she caught an illness."

Keke snorted. "I bet her management is paying TMZ to keep quiet."

"What do you think Y/N?"

Shopping with Elvis and Keke was fun, with them life seemed so easy and scandalous. They didn't make you feel like a hard working international popstars, but one of the girls, which you never got to feel like being homeschooled as young.

"I hope she's okay." You said. Tanya was a singer just like you. A bit older but with so much experience of being in the industry. She helped launch your career by introducing you to some very influential producers and to that you were forever greatful.

"Speaking of okay," Elvis said, looking back at the shadow that was Ruben, walking slowly behind the three of you. "How is this your life now?"

"Please don't remind me." You sighed. "My sister is just paranoid about the death threat I got last month,  you know the one where the man sent me a bloody knife with the DNA of a racoon."

"Yes, hahaha. That was hilarious!" Keke laughed. "How did he even get your address?"

"Welp, my sister didn't think it was funny and now I have my own personal bodyguard."

"He is fine as hell, no? Do you think he'll guard my body?"

"Stop it." You hit Elvis in the arm.

It wasn't annoying having Ruben around, it made you feel safe. However, having him around 24/7....

His unusual presence didn't go unnoticed. There were fans who gathered around, snapping pictures and screaming in excitement. Yet, instead of basking in the attention, you found yourself growing increasingly frustrated with each passing moment. With Ruben, determined to maintain his hyper-vigilance by directing your every move, skillfully weaving through the crowd and dismissing any potential danger like a hawk. His overprotectiveness grew more pronounced, calling unwanted attention to you and your friends, creating a spectacle wherever you went. Thus it didn't feel like you were getting a day off, but another day in your crazy life as a popstars.

"Man, let's just go to my place." Elvis sighed. "I have like four bottles of wine from the event my company had yesterday."

"Y/N, you coming?"

Watching your friends drift further away, you couldn't help but be overcome by a sense of longing for the same freedom they had. You longed to immerse yourself in the energy of the city, shop till you dropped, and savor the precious moments of normalcy of going home and enjoying a bottle of wine. However, Ruben's constant presence loomed over you like a shadow, smothering your zest for life.

Feeling suffocated, you approached him, voice laced with frustration and desperation. "Ruben, I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I need some space. I need to feel like a regular person sometimes, without the constant intrusion. Can't you trust my judgment? Trust that I can take care of myself, just this once?"

Ruben's expression softened as he realized the weight of his actions, that they might have taken a tool on you, especially when you we're still getting used to having him around.

"We're are you headed?" He asked, expression motionless.

"Just to my friends house, we're having dinner. I'll have Taylor pick me up after."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, really?"

"Yes it's fine, just..."

Ruben stumbled backwards as you ambushed him with a hug. "I'll see you later." You smiled, leaving him visibly stunned by your actions.

If you knew Elvis you knew that a quiet night with the girls always turned into a full blown party. By the time the three of you had down the four bottles of wine, Elvis had called half the people on his contact list. E - list celebrities that were desperate to be seen in a picture with you.

"I loved your last album, so many great songs were on it."

"Thank you, which one was your favorite?"

"Oh, you know..."

"I do...?"

"Yeah, you know....perhaps that one featuring that rapper?"

"You mean my song Dirty Laundry ft. Lover Boi?"

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"Gee thanks." You said and rose to go to the bathroom.

Whoever said that their favorite song of yours was Dirty Laundry didn't really care about your music, only the hits that were featured in luxury commercials or backgrounds songs for Tik Tok trends. The songs that you actually put your heart and mind into never seemed to get the recognition they deserved.

"Y/N, you good?" Elvis asked, as you past him on your way to the bathroom.

You had a lot to drink, becoming more and more forgetful of yourself. There was flashing lights in your face, people taking pictures. Your sister wouldn't like that. She always told you that a good image is important to withstand and being publicly intoxicated was not withstanding that image.

"Let me help you with that baby."

You couldn't find the bathroom. And the fact that you were so drunk frightened you a little. You oriented your way out of Elvis apartment, taking the elevator down and stumbling onto the street. You were fumbling with your purse looking for your phone when a strange man popped up, asking if you needed his help.

"I'm okay, thank you."

"Hold up, aren't you Y/N?"

"Um...no."

"Yes you are. You're that girl in that video with Lover Boi."

"Please don't..."

"Eyo, Tito, look who it is!"

"Call your friends..." You sighed.

Soon a crowd of pedestrians had gathered around you taking pictures of you like a monument in the middle of the street.

"I'm sorry, I need to..." You fumbled with your purse, unable to locate your phone to call Taylor.

"Shit, it's TMZ!"

Soon the tiny little flashing phones turned into full blown flashing cameras and photographers, or paparazzi as you've learned to call them, shouting things at you.

"Y/N show me those legs!"

*snap*

"Having fun on your night out?"

*snap*

"How many drinks have you had to night sweetie,  you look a mess."

*snap.*

"You guys please."

You hoplessly tried to diverged the snapping  cameras from your face, hiding it behind your arm. But it was hopless, you couldn't get away. The paparazzi were circling you like a shark, snapping pictures, never having enough.

"Please I... don't feel so well."

You lost your balance, falling onto your knees. This resulted in the cameras snapping more violently and no one coming to your rescue, that is, until Ruben.

"Out of the way!"

He barge through the crowd out of nowhere, not caring about who he pushed aside. He got to you and brought you up on your feet. You were walking in the air, the way that he carried you through the crowd, with one hand around your waist, pinning you to his side.

"You're okay, I got you."

You got shuffled into a car, his car, tires  swirling on the side walk as he drove away.

Although you  were drowsy, you noticed how he kept turning his head to the backseat, checking on you.

"Where almost home, I'll get you home." He said, sounding genuinely concerned.

It was all a blurr from then, how you got to your apartment, how you even got into bed that night? All you recall was Ruben's strong arms around your waist, and him, repeating the words "I got you."

[pixelatedbugs]

just completed neutral route! big huge spoilery ramble below summary: definitely recommend playing neutral route because holy shit wow. plus you get some new dialogue and stuff from other characters which is cool

I thought Martlet picking up the determination syringe was an aborted genocide only thing but she had it and i was only level 7...she throws it away of course but it still kinda shocked me. She was already ready to kill Clover if they did anymore violence, even if she changed her mind in the end. And then Flowey just kills her-

Really interesting to me that when Flowey doesn't intervene clover just stays with Toriel. I feel like Clover had a hard life on the surface (based off of Star's couch bringing "unpleasant memories", mainly) I feel like deep down, they wanted comfort. They came down the mountain to find the 5 missing humans but they forgot about that in exchange for Toriel's comfort. A home. They're just a kid. man..

The boss..fuck. I knew it got scary because I accidentally spoiled myself on a few things but wow I was not ready. it really emphasizes the fact that Flowey has complete (not counting the player) control over what happens to clover. Speaking of that, that one scene at the end where Flowey looks directly at the screen..wonder if he realized that him and clover aren't the only ones here. T- DON'T DO THAT CREEPY LAUGH sorry was typing this while watching the credits anyway..

The fight itself was AWESOME. Super creative, the sections where you have to avoid Flowey's vines like Undyne's spears was amazing. The attacks were...creepy as hell Flowey with Humanoid Eyes will stay in my mind for a while. And that's a compliment, the horror factor was nailed here. The battle box lines too. "Clover wants to cry but they don't have eyes" wow! fun! jesus christ. The intermission(?) between the phases. All the other final bosses showed memories of the characters, so it makes sense Flowey would also get those! I'm...not entirely sure what most of it was about besides the part where Asriel first awakens as Flowey ("mom..? dad..?") but holy shit the mountain of dead Floweys was horrifying. Every single reset...damn. Its more likely that Flowey was created a bit before frisk fell, not clover, at least in undertale canon. But still, it really puts into perspective just how many times he died, over and over and over. Plus I'm inserting UTY into my headcanon anyway at this point lmao. oh yeah and then we're in Snowdin! yay it's Martlet! she's speaking slightly weird but I'm sure nothing bad will happen Uh Oh

The second phase is just, really, really good. I didn't expect anything to match Photoshop Flowey but this? Pretty much does it perfectly. i love the different artstyles for every different phase rather than theming around the different souls too. The clay one got me very close to becoming the joker fuck that one

I'm wondering what would've happened if i exited the game at some point, maybe ill redo it later. But yeah, awesome boss, awesome route, definitely go play it yourself. You can just kill like 1 monster and you'll get it i think. ignore the fact that i killed way more than one monster i needed the health ok

[aparticularbandit]

Of A Fatal Captivity: Day Six (IV)

Summary: When do they decide that she can’t leave? That they’re going to keep her there no matter what she wants? That’s the day her captivity begins. Is that today?

Some of you will think that this beginning is a gimmick. Up to you! Think what you want! (It’s not a gimmick more than anything else in writing is a gimmick, which is to say, of course, it’s a gimmick, because that’s all writing is, really, isn’t it? A bunch of gimmicks? Some of them more successful than others? Isn’t that why we have tropes? The trappings of a Tragedy to tell us whether that’s really what the story is or not? (Do you know the story you’re in?))

Enough games.

You’re here for something better than that.

Or: Junko Enoshima’s factory reset may or may not be going as planned, and Ryoko Otonashi has plenty of things to say about that. Or will, once she realizes what’s going on.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

Book One

Day Six (of a Fatal Captivity).

Mikan leads Ryoko to her new room with her hands clasped in front of her and her head lowered.  At first, she says nothing, clearly thinking over Sonia’s realization, because her gaze doesn’t flick to Ryoko in the ill-fitting suit again.  Which is saying something.  Ryoko honestly expected more of a reaction from the woman who keeps referring to her as her beloved than a single cut off compliment.

The silence stretches on longer than the hallway – or it will if Ryoko doesn’t break it (although she’s not sure how she knows that).  She taps her forefingers together, uncertain, and then says, “I’m…I’m sure she – I – she was planning to come back eventually!  Maybe it was just going to take a—”

“No.”  Mikan doesn’t look up, but a small, sad sort of smile curls at the corner of her lips.  “No, I-I-I think we…we missed it.”  Her cheeks flush a bright red with embarrassment, and she runs her fingers through her hair.  It’s still greasy, still not quite clean – Ryoko can tell just from looking at her.  “Thank you, though,” Mikan continues.  “For the…for the thought.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mikan brought her here.

She got her out.

That should count for something.

Ryoko pulls on the edges of her borrowed blazer, pushes herself in front of Mikan, and then spins around so that she’s walking backward, facing her.  “I look pretty spiffy, wouldn’t you say?”

Mikan still doesn’t glance up.  “You’re going t-t-to trip.”  She bites her lower lip and tugs it between her teeth.  “Or hit your head or—”

Ryoko steps in front of her and abruptly stops, which causes Mikan to let out a squeak of discomfort.  “So stop and look at me!” she says, taking one of Mikan’s hands in her own.  She waits for Mikan to glance up and then leans forward, meeting her fresh bruise-colored eyes.  “Tell me I look good, Miki.”

“!!!!”  Mikan’s eyes widen in shock.  A blush creeps across her face as Ryoko takes her hand, and her gaze drops to focus where they touch.  “U-u-um.”  Her gaze flicks up and then back down again.  “Y-y-you always look good, J-J-Junko-sama.”  She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth again, gaze staying low, cheeks growing darker.

She says the wrong name, and it fits Ryoko like trying to wear a pane of glass, like if she moves at all, she’ll shatter it, just like Cinderella and those glass slippers at the ball, or maybe she’ll shatter herself instead, and instinctively, she shivers.  “Ryoko,” she gently corrects.  Then her lips press together. “Ryoko-chan,” she corrects again, just as gently.

That doesn’t fit right either, but it fits better than Junko-sama, which fits the least of all, fits worse even than just Junko, which doesn’t fit at all.

Mikan blinks rapidly, and tears creep from the corners of her eyes.  “S-s-sorry!  You just called me Miki, and that’s….”  She wipes at her eyes.  “Junko-sama named me that.”

Ryoko doesn’t correct her again, doesn’t have the heart to say that she’d overheard one of the others call Mikan that when she wasn’t supposed to be listening and that she’d picked it up from them, doesn’t try to explain that it doesn’t have anything to do with remembering anything, doesn’t want to say that if she was really naming her, it wouldn’t be Miki.  Instead, she reaches up, hesitates, and then brushes away Mikan’s tears with a gentle sweep of her thumb, careful not to cut her skin or poke her eyes with her stupid sharpened fake red nail.  “You don’t want me to call you that?”

“I-i-it’s not that.”  Mikan presses her lips together and shakes her head, her whole face a bright apple red.  “You can…you can call me it, if you want.”  Her brow furrows.  “You can call me…whatever you want.”

Ryoko nods to herself, not quite understanding, and then says, “But it’s…it’s more important what you want.  I don’t want to call you something that fits wrong, okay?”  She waits for Mikan to nod, then takes her hand in hers again and gives it a little squeeze.  “Show me my room?”

Mikan nods enthusiastically.  “Y-y-yes!”

~

Mikan leads Ryoko back to the room where they’d dyed her hair, and it’s only now, knowing that it will be hers, that Ryoko takes everything in.  The room is bare of anything other than the essentials – bed, bedside table, desk, lamp – with the exception of a plush bear, one half completely white with a pinprick black eye and the other half completely black with a swooping blood red eye.  Even his mouth is split in half, a closed lip black smile on the white side and an eager, bright toothy grin on the black side.

Ryoko stares at the bear sitting atop her bed, and her head itches, burns with the familiarity of something she can’t name.  She sits on the edge of the bed and takes the bear in one hand; he’s soft, but there’s something that feels harder in the center of him, just where his heart should be – like one of those Kraft-A-Kuma creations, hiding a recording somewhere if she just presses it hard enough.  “Who is this?” she asks, turning to Mikan with the bear cradled in one hand.  “Should I know him?”

“If you d-d-don’t, that’s okay.”  Mikan sits on the bed next to Ryoko and reaches out to run her fingers along the plush bear’s fur.  “This is Monokuma.  He was mine while you were—”  She stops, corrects herself, “While Junko was gone.  I thought he might help you adjust.”

“Remember, you mean?”  Ryoko glances up with as soft and gentle a smile as she can manage.  She notes how Mikan tries to school her expression, how she fails.  Then she gets a whiff of the girl sitting next to her and wriggles her nose.  “Mikan, did you….  You got a chance to…to shower, right?”  She searches her eyes.  “Right?”

Mikan’s eyes widen, and Ryoko notes the bags under her eyes.  “Um!”  She takes a deep breath in.  “I was…I was taking care of Hiyoko and getting your room ready, so I didn’t…I didn’t get a chance to…to….”  The breath leaves her in a huge sigh.  “No.”  She giggles, a bright, bell-like sound, and runs her fingers through her greasy hair again.  “I…I probably….  You probably don’t like me l-l-like this, huh?”

“It’s okay!” Ryoko splutters all at once, and then, without thinking, “I forgive you!”

She doesn’t know why she says that, why it comes out like an impulse, like a second heartbeat, like something familiar, warm, safe.

The deep flush breaks across Mikan’s face again, and she squeaks.  “I…I….”  She stumbles back off of the bed but doesn’t trip, tugs her lip between her teeth again, and then runs from the room.

“Wait!”  Ryoko reaches a hand out, but she’s not quick enough to stop her.  She could run after her.  Instead, she collapses back on the bed; it’s much more comfortable than the hospital bed she’d been on before, just like the clothes she’s wearing are much more comfortable than the hospital gown had been.  She stares up at the ceiling and then brings the plush bear up, holding him high above her head.  “Monokuma, huh?”

The plush bear doesn’t say anything back to her, just looks down with that menacing, creepy half grin.

Ryoko considers for a moment and then presses her thumb into that hard little spot at his heart, expecting to hear a sound of some sort, and for just the briefest of seconds, she thinks she can hear something, but she can’t make anything out.  It’s probably just the crackling static of a sound chip long broken.  Probably.  Normally there’s a garbled version of whatever’s supposed to be said instead, but static….  Static’s fine, she supposes.

“Busted little piece of shit, aren’t you?” Ryoko asks, flicking the plush bear’s nose.  Then she giggles.  “You’re cute, though.  Don’t know why Miki loves you so much, but I think you’re….”  Her brow furrows.  Honestly, she doesn’t know what she thinks of the bear.  He’s cute, but there’s something else.

She doesn’t know what that is.

After a moment, Ryoko lets her hands drop to either side of her.  The ceiling looks the same as it did in the make-shift hospital room, and she doesn’t feel inclined to count anything in here.  She sighs.  Looks to the side.  Closet.  Bathroom.  It’d be nice to see if Mikan cleaned out the extra soap but kept the one she likes, if she’d been able to guess at it correctly.  More importantly—

Ryoko pushes herself off of the bed, dropping the plush bear behind her, and scampers to the closet.  It should be empty.  They shouldn’t have anything for her; Mikan had said as much.  Whoever this Junko had been, she hadn’t prepared a room for herself, which means they shouldn’t have anything in there.  Still, when she opens the cracked door, she finds a single outfit inside – a blazer and button-up shirt pair like the one she wears now, only black and white like Monokuma instead of deep blue and pastel lavender, with the sleeves rolled up the same way and everything; a red plaid skirt that seems far too short to be proper or comfortable (how could anyone sit in that thing without everyone seeing everything?); and a tie – white, at first, and all along the top, but stained black at its thicker end, with a red circle crossed through just where the white meets the black.

Even more importantly, there’s a bra which will probably fit better than Sonia’s, which is a little too tight, and a pair of boots, which will probably fit where none of Sonia’s shoes would.  (Also, all of Sonia’s shoes were feminine heels.  The boots may have heels, but they aren’t fancy.  They’re nice.  …attractive, even.)

Still.

Ryoko runs her fingers along the blazer and shirt, along the tie, and then looks at how she’d dressed herself in Sonia’s clothes.  Not exactly identical, but…other than the pants, it’s very, very close.  Ill-fitting, of course, but.  It’s the same sense of style.

Her, but not quite.

Ryoko lets the blazer drop, stares again at the tie – it looks like Monokuma, too, but not quite – and then takes the bra and the boots.

Better to change now before she has to worry about anyone else coming to see her.

~

The thing is.

The thing is.

Being alone in her room is awfully boring.

There’s not a lot to really do in here.  There isn’t even a window for her to look out of, like there was in that make-shift hospital room, although she’d never gone to look out of it.

Well.

That’s not exactly true.

There is a window, but it’s boarded up, painted over with a child’s image of bright flowers, smiling sun, and green grass.  Ryoko places a hand on the wooden boards, remembering a time when she, too, drew scenes just like this.  Maybe not on boarded up windows, but close enough to it.  There’s no itching with this memory.  That should mean something good.  She reads the little childish scrawl signing the bottom of the drawing – Jataro Kemuri.  She doesn’t recognize the name, but it makes her head itch like she should.

Still, that takes all of, what, five minutes?  Not even that.

And now she’s. bored.

She hates being bored.

Of course, Mikan didn’t say she had to stay in her room.

Ryoko creeps to the door, opens it, and peeks out and around.  She can’t see anyone, but she can hear voices – angry, excited voices – down the hallway.  It doesn’t feel like the middle of a conversation, but the beginning of one, voices hushed and tense and snapping.

“You should never have gone to get her, Miki.”

It’s a new voice, a new person, a new someone else that Ryoko should probably remember but doesn’t.  She creeps down the hallway towards the voices and finds a lounge area on the other end, where a woman in a white suit sits with one leg crossed over the other, both of her arms crossed, and her head lowered.  (Ryoko feels an immediate spurt of jealousy because that suit fits the new woman so much better than the one Ryoko borrowed from Sonia, and just the vibes of it send chills up her spine.)  The woman’s glasses rest on the edge of her nose, but that doesn’t seem to bother her at all.  “You did not consider all of the parameters—”

“And you would have considered the parameters if your precious Young Master was in danger—” Mikan starts to snap back, her hands clenched into fists, her hair wild.

“I would have acted as my Young Master ordered,” the new woman interrupts, her tone calm even as her bright red eyes flash with anger.  “If my Young Master ordered me to stay away, then I would have—”

“My beloved didn’t order anything—”

“She told us not to interfere with her Killing Game,” Sonia interrupts from the other side of the room.  She clasps her hands together in her lap, and she looks up, rusty silver eyes grown cold.  “She told us not to interfere.”

Mikan’s eyes narrow, darken, even more a fresh bruise than they were before.  “The Killing Game was over,” she growls out.  “You saw it.  I saw it.”  Her hand clenches so hard that her knuckles pop.  “You weren’t there, Sonia.  You didn’t see what they did to her.  What they were doing to her when we found her.”

“None of that matters if she had a plan in place,” the new woman cuts Mikan off before she can finish.  “Whatever was happening was according to Enoshima-sama’s plan, even what they were doing.  She—”

“Stop, Peko.”  Another new voice, and from a shadowy corner of the room, something lights up.  When Ryoko narrows her eyes, she catches it, the smallest flame lighting a thick cigar.  Its owner doesn’t even stick the cigar between his lips, just holds it limp between his fingertips.  An aesthetic, not a vice.  Well, still a vice, but not in the same sense.  He leans back against the wall, one foot propped against it, and stares out at them with clay brown eyes.

The new woman – Peko – nods and leans back in her chair.  “Yes, Young Master.”

Her Young Master taps the cigar, and ash drops from it.  He still hasn’t smoked any of it.  “Miki was fucking right,” he says, staring at the wall across from him, not meeting any of their eyes.  “Junko was in fucking danger, and Miki saved her fucking life.  If any of you fuckers think that was wrong….”  His voice trails off, and he shakes his head.  “You have no fucking idea what we could have lost.  What we would have lost.”

What you have lost, Ryoko thinks but doesn’t say.  She doesn’t want them to catch her, doesn’t want to lose the opportunity to listen in.

“Young Master,” Peko starts to say.

“I said shut your fucking mouth, Peko.”  Her Young Master shoots her a glare.  Then his eyes narrow, and he turns back to the wall in front of him.  “I woulda killed every fucking one of ‘em.  Still will.  For thinking they could fucking get away with hurting her.”  He pushes himself from the wall.  “So stop your fucking fighting.  Miki was right.”

Before the others can respond to him, a door just out of sight slams open.  The others turn to the door, and all of their expressions shift.  The Young Master makes a tsking sound, his teeth gritting together, and turns back to the wall.  (“That fucking loser.”)  Peko, who immediately tensed, her hand on a blade that Ryoko had not noticed until just now, relaxes but does not turn her back to the door again.  Sonia lets out an exasperated sigh, and Mikan—

“It took you long enough,” Mikan spits out, glaring at whoever has walked through the door.  “You’ve been gone a week!  What sort of secret mission could you find in that dilapidated school?”

“A message from our fearless leader, of course.”  A young man with scruffy white hair and a thick chain dangling from his neck walks in, his hands spread out in front of him.  “I can’t share it with any of you, unfortunately, but it does mean that she at least expected me to show up.”  He sighs with a hint of longing.  “She really does plan for everything, doesn’t she?  Or maybe that’s just my—”

“See?”  Mikan gestures to the young man with one hand.  “If my beloved left a message for the fool, then she knew we were coming.  I wasn’t wrong.”  Her hand drops to one side, and a blush spreads across her cheeks as her eyes grow wide with fevered understanding.  “She planned for me to save her.”  Her lips twist into a smile.  “She knew of all of you that I would—”

Sonia shakes her head.  “That still does not explain why our queen did not prepare a room for herself.  Surely, if she intended to join us here, then she would have prepared for her return.”

The young man with the white hair tilts his head to one side.  “Is that what you’re arguing about?”  He laughs, a sound that ends with a sharp wheeze.  “Such glistening jewels of despair you are!  You don’t even have any hope in your fearless leader!  How worthless!”  He grins.  “Maybe she just didn’t want our dear Ryoko to have her head filled with all of her—”

Ryoko freezes as he says her name.

She has never met this man before in her life.  At least, she doesn’t remember him.  But unlike everyone else here, he alone seems to know who she is, not just this fearless leader that she’s supposed to be.

And yet, looking at him, Ryoko’s brain doesn’t itch.  No flames.  Nothing.

How strange.

“Ryoko?” the Young Master whispers, barely loud enough for Ryoko to hear it.  Then his eyes narrow, and he glares up at the fool.  “How the fuck do you know that name, Nagito?” he spits out.

The white-haired man – Nagito, a name that Ryoko files away for later use – grins.  “It was in my message, of course.  Our fearless leader told me everything.  Her entire plan!  Isn’t it wonderful?”  He slides into an empty chair and kicks his legs up over the opposing arm.  “She also told me not to tell any of you.”  Each word enunciated, pointed, a dagger.  His eyes widen, and he laughs again.  “What glorious despair she has given you!  Doesn’t it just make you—”  Then he cuts himself off.  His gaze flicks over to where Ryoko is hiding, staring in at the conversation, and winks.  “What a pleasure to finally meet you, Ryoko Otonashi.”

Ryoko stumbles backwards and falls.  She tries to ignore the eyes of the others as they land on her, cheeks flushing a bright, bright red as though to match her hair, if they could do it.  “I-I-I was bored,” she stutters out, not looking up.  “There’s nothing to do in here.”

“Tsk tsk,” Nagito chides, one finger lifted and wagging back and forth.  “You would think our fearless leader’s closest compatriots would know better than to let her get bored.”  He chuckles lightly.  “We all know what she does when that happens.”

“No,” Mikan murmurs, her voice soft, as Ryoko lifts her eyes and notes that she is now the only one staring directly at her.  “No, we don’t.”

~

Ryoko lets Mikan lead her back to her bedroom.  She hates it the entire time, of course, because she knows that being back in that room will just lead to more boredom, but she doesn’t want to feel the weight of those eyes returning to her.  “I didn’t hear very much,” she lies, her eyes lowered.  “I just followed the voices.  I—”

“It’s okay.”  Mikan takes Ryoko’s hand in hers and runs her thumb gentle along Ryoko’s skin.  “I forgive you.”  She smiles, a soft thing, and then meets her eyes.  “Why don’t we go to—”

“Let me talk ta her.”  The man from the corner – Peko’s Young Master – places a hand on Mikan’s shoulder, pausing her.  Standing this close, he’s so much shorter than Ryoko thought, and his eyes look less like clay and more like the softest fawn brown tainted with the same tendrils of red that the others have.  Still, he tilts his head back and meets Ryoko’s eyes.  “Ya wanna talk ta me, too, right?”

Ryoko searches his eyes, and her lips press together.  “I want to talk with all of you,” she says, hesitant but more sure as she says it.  “I’m not…I’m not whoever it is you think I am, but…but I still want to….”  Her voice trails off.

“Oh, but ya are,” he says, meeting Ryoko’s gaze and holding it.  “I knew ya like this, a long, long time ago.  I remember you, Ryo-chan.”

Ryoko’s eyes widen, and then she nods and repeats, “I want to talk with you.”

He grins.  “See?”  He squeezes Mikan’s shoulder, pats it twice, and then lets his hand fall.  “I’ll take good fucking care of her.  Ya know that, right, Miki?”

Mikan nods.  She gives Ryoko’s hand a squeeze and then gently – slowly – removes her hand from hers.  “I’ll be right here,” she says, pressing a hand on the nearest door and meeting Ryoko’s eyes.  “If you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Ryoko doesn’t think she’ll need anything.  At least, not anything that going into Mikan’s room will provide.  She can tell, though, standing this close, that Mikan’s finally gotten that shower she so desperately needed.  Her disheveled hair’s still damp, shining as though covered with soft dew.  Then she turns away from Mikan and to the Young Master and says, “My, uh.  My room’s further this way.”  She leads him away from Mikan and then tilts her head to one side before asking, “Um.  What’s your…what’s your name?  I can’t remember anyone, so I don’t….”  Her brow furrows.  “I don’t remember you, either.”

“Fuyuhiko,” the Young Master says as they stop in front of the door to Ryoko’s room.  “Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu.”

Something in Ryoko clicks into place, but she doesn’t know what.  “Fuyuryu,” she says, unsure why she says it, but certain of it all the same.  “You’re Fuyuryu.”

Fuyuhiko scoffs, a light sound.  “Ya always fucking called me that.  I fucking hate it.”

“No,” Ryoko smiles, meeting his dark eyes with her bright ones.  “No, I think you love it.”

[veirsewrites]

So, i know that this isn't feedback you wanted, but i just can't get over how weak, nonsensical, childish and kinda pathetic mc feels. Maybe it was my mistake that i trusted the demo description too much and hoped for more. Because c'mon, beside being said that mc is an old strong "high" vampire who should oversee the whole city, has an "experience cultivated from the many lives", and by some unbelievable magic and luck managed to "struck a balance between each group of supernaturals and humans", the only thing that we have seen so far was that mc wasn't capable of discretely escorting one young vampire out by themself, got their feet broken, for some reason needed help from a stranger, which still ended up with them needing to call in a favour (hello bouncers?). Immediately after they got scolded by high council like a little kid who is throwing a tantrum, got beat up to a pulp by a lion and ended up surviving with help of hunter. One thing that they managed to do is subdue a single vampire, only to then be taken by some random hunter like a street thug to then go with them and get their mind read. And they even have no idea who the leader of the werewolf pack of the city where they supposedly struck balance in is. Lol. Like seriously, their whole situation is so hilarious. I get a feeling that mc's title should be: powerless vampire who says they are old, but actually acts like a teenager in their rebellious stage with like six friends, pretending that they are important because they've got a bar. (But if mc is trying to appear as incompetent as possible for a high council to rethink their decision of making them someone important, then mc is imo doing magnificently.)

Now srsly, i get that you probably want to write the story this way, but i just can't get over how ridiculous mc's position sounds. If you were to create a neutral territory, it doesn't just magically happen bcs u go to a street and shout "This is a save haven for everyone from now on, no fighting here!" You have to hold some kind of power to your name so that some other factions don't run you over (like they do now lol how did that place even manage to exist?). This power could be physical or political, but it's very clear that mc has neither. By this point, mc should have at least some respect/favour with faction leaders and should definitely know who they are. First bcs if some trouble were to arise on this neutral ground mc would need to handle this, which would cause mc to go against members of some faction and that could be considered as going against the faction itself. Second bcs if mc doesn't want to constantly handle conflicts they need leaders of faction themselves enforcing this neutral territory. This would of course have to involve hunters, more specifically having some connection with or power over leaders of hunters, at least for this city, as i doubt they would just let all supernaturals group together. Should mc wield this much power (which they could and should, based on their goals, opposing council/having neutral ground, and as this can be achieved by humans with much shorter lifespans, an old vampire such as themself should have no problems) it would make at least some sense for them to go against council even thought they are not "old, strong and important" enough bcs they would have enough people behind them to back them up. However, as they are now, i have an image of kid stomping on a ground saying "NO i won't listen to them! Why? 'Cause i don't want to! Who are they to order me around? Huh? What can they do? Completely ruin everything i have built on a whim bcs i have no real power to actually oppose them? Hah, let them try! Wait a moment…n-no… No wait-! I will do what they want!" Ofc they would also not be picked up from a street, like some rando, who got in a fight with someone when there was a police officer nearby watching. And then got mind poked.

TLDR: I get that you might not want to think or write about such details, like forces needed behind the scene, however logically and realistically MC actions, treatment they receive and decisions they do make no sense, especially not for someone who should be old enough to have more experiences and brain power than a kid. No one respects them nor can they control anyone, and so far the only responsibly they bear is from pissing off the wrong people… And chucking it all on Eddie, saying that he handles all analytical things, doesn't help, bcs if he really does all this, then this poor guy would be better off without mc's dead weight pulling them down.

More tldr: MC comes off as a whiny child.

Getting passed all the extra fluff of the criticism, I do agree with the overall base that MC’s position of High Vampire kinda useless right now. I think I’ve spoken of it before, but at least have it jotted down in my notes, I’m not sure how to show that power without delving down into a bunch of scenes unrelated to the story.

More thoughts below:

There’s also a reason why the MC isn’t like politically super powerful, it’s alluded to in A’s memory scene ("they shall sit on an empty throne"). However, there’s definitely a balance that MC can have, like at least know who key players are etc. I’m already thinking of more instances which should help me show that.

I think more importantly, I need to update the description to something more accurate of what I have planned. Things have developed differently compared to when I wrote it.

The club thing, I'm still workshopping on how to best show its importance.

Overall, this is a WIP and I'm a new writer. This critique, while the delivery was a lot, the bones of it is valid and something I need to think about. Hopefully it will be incorporated in the Ch 1-3 revamp!

[magireco]

Would love to hear more thoughts on how these girls have understandable teenage motivations (A+ tag analysis by the way)

1. Thank you!!!!!!

2. ALRIGHT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (shuffles my papers). i’ve gone off about homura’s motivations in depth before but i think it was only in dms/groupchats? anyways i’ll go in order with All the girls bc i think about this all the time as a teenager who grew up mentally ill and had their perceptions skewed because of it, and also i don’t think it’s talked about nearly enough for the others, at least on my blog... so, buckle up!!! this is REALLY LONG!!!! 

3. i tried writing like, an individual thing for every member of the quintet all together in this one ask, but i ended up talking a little too much about homura and now i’m going to split up all the different analysis stuff for each character into the reblogs and work on it every so often! you’re free to kinda skim of course because i really did write a whole novel but here we go!! read under the cut. :3 this is literally essay length btw. i did NOT expect it to get this long but if you want to read it all i’d recommend it but i don’t expect most people to

First: Homura Akemi

okay so i’m going to kind of summarize everything but from the perspective of empathizing with her so if you don’t want to reread a whole recap you can skip to the ending few paragraphs

Summary

first of all, in episode 10, homura’s past is explained for the viewer. she was a shy, unsure girl who had been bedridden for a long time. she was clearly unsocialized, not to mention she went to a catholic school and those can be brutal, esp in japan... that’s all we know about her in that episode, but it’s revealed in one of the drama cds that she was bullied as a child(& further at mitakihara middle), her parents never were mentioned ever (i assume them to either be dead or neglectful, considering she lives alone and unchecked), and in magia record, homura says to natsuki that she’s never had friends before, she hasn’t been on vacation before until the beachside bonds event, hasn’t ever celebrated valentine’s day, has never celebrated new years, etc... 

clearly, she’s missed out on a lot not only because of her sickness and hospitalization, but because of her isolation as a child at school. judging by her demeanor and the way she reacts when madoka comes up to her without being asked to, something like that had never happened to her before. it’s clear to me that madoka was many of homura’s “first’s”, her first friend, the first person who reached out to her, the first person to compliment her name honestly(validating her, disproving her dislike of her name), the first person to regard her so kindly rather than judging her based off of her appearance and demeanor (like other students had apparently done, this is also shown when the other students at mitakihara middle make fun of her for being tired after only being able to run one lap). AND, madoka (and mami, but homura knew madoka better at that time) saved her life, even though homura was so willing to die, just in that moment... i’d assume it made homura feel like someone believed in her even when she was at her worst. it’s really clear by the glimmer in her eyes that these are nice people that made her feel happy and welcome... and then walpurgisnacht came. she didn’t know much about magical girls and just believed in madoka and mami to be able to defeat the witch because she saw them as strong and saw the witch as defeatable, despite its size. and then mami died, right in front of her and madoka... 

this kinda seems headcanon-y when i phrase it this way but it’s practically proven in her actions but i really think homura is scared to be abandoned, especially by someone who was as overtly kind and nonjudgemental to her as madoka... it’s in the way she cries her name and says “don’t go” before madoka runs away to fight walpurgisnacht. OH ALSO, i need to address this one thing really quick because people like to assume that homura didn’t care about mami from the beginning and only liked madoka. it’s not that she wasn’t sad when mami died, she was clearly terrified and didn’t want the same to happen to madoka, also mami LITERALLY WASN’T IN HER CLASS OR HER GRADE so i assume she spent most of her time with madoka considering they were in the same grade and class and probably shared most of their periods with each other... but also, once again, mami is older than both of them and homura probably saw her as more of a mentor/teacher that she needed to impress rather than madoka who was more on her level, i guess?

anyways, moving on... homura had to see madoka die (& experience the crushing guilt she felt for “letting madoka go” even though there was nothing she could’ve done) and literally says “i’d rather you had lived than saved someone like me” ... her self worth is below zero. she makes her wish to be strong enough to protect madoka(because she sees madoka, her first friend, who saved her life which she felt had no worth, as so strong and noble) which causes her to go back in time, etc. etc., you know the deal. okay before i move on to talk a little more abt the timelines and the personality change i’m going to address why it’s reasonable that she’d be attached to madoka.

i mentioned before that homura said herself that she had never had a friend before. just like, put yourself into her shoes for a second. this girl has no idea how to make friends; it was never taught to her. it’s literally rational that she’d get attached to her first ever friendship. it’s not “normal” the way she views madoka, but how could it be? this is her first time having a friend, she’s afraid of being abandoned by her, but she’s had to see her die over and over again anyway. she doesn’t want to lose madoka. even if she doesn’t go about it in the right way, there’s no way she would’ve actually known how to Do relationships. no one taught her. i think that needs to be empathized with more...

i kinda feel like i need to summarize all this just bc if i word it right it kinda reminds you & puts into perspective just how terrible and scary all of this was.

anyway Again, i would skip straight to the end of timeline 3 (where a New Flavor of trauma is given to homura) but i need to first address timeline 2 for a second. it was homura’s first time repeating the timeline, she trained with madoka and mami again, she was still hopeful despite what happened, etc. kinda just bonding further with madoka Again... and then it’s at the end of this timeline that she watches madoka turn into a witch, just in front of her very eyes... and realizes the true fate of magical girls. when she resets the timeline again, it’s up to her to start anew and break the truth to the group when she sees them again. when she tries telling the truth, sayaka immediately shoves this aside, claiming homura was just trying to split everyone up. it’s clear that that hurts homura. (also the little shinies in her eyes were wavering which is anime-code for sad) her feelings were immediately disregarded by sayaka and she couldn’t defend herself, but madoka did for her, and mami tried to diffuse the situation. 

after they all find out homura was right when sayaka turns into a witch, mami kills kyoko and ties up homura in her ribbons and aims a gun at her, and this, rightfully, ignited a fear within homura... madoka is forced to kill mami in order to save homura, leaving only the two of them to fight together. then, when walpurgisnacht comes that time, The Promise is made... madoka tells homura to go back in time and save her from becoming a witch (because she doesn’t want to curse the world that way, she still sees beauty in it) and homura agrees, saying she’ll never stop until she saves madoka, and then... homura has to mercy kill madoka before she becomes a witch. she cries loudly and shoots madoka’s soul gem... it’s literally so heartwrenching and (usually) brings the viewer to tears, or puts something into perspective for them...

then we assume the personality change happens in the timeline right after. this personality change causes a lot of discourse because sometimes it’s seen as kind of irrational, but personally, i think even moemura had at least SOME resent for the world around her considering what she’d been through. it’s madoka’s repeated deaths that finally push her over that edge. i could get further into the coolmura arc but that’d take a WHILE, so i’ll just kind of explain something briefly though -- why homura ended up becoming even MORE focused on madoka. and i’m also going to debunk the claim that homura doesn’t care about her other friends as fast as i can before moving on.

also, ONE LAST side tangent, for those that think homura really did do a 360 degree personality turn are wrong. it’s shown explicitly in homulilly’s labyrinth that there’s this... “core” homura, a shadowy purple silhouette with braids. every time the series depicts homura’s internal self, it’s always glasses+braids, symbolizing her “child” self, who she truly is. she never stopped being that person. she doesn’t want to kill. ...but i can get into that in a rebellion analysis later! this is also shown in wraith arc bc the person inside her soul gem has glasses+braids. anyway let’s get to the next part i’m going to rant about

Homura’s Love for Madoka, but Otherwise Apathy

homura has seen many different, yet all similar, versions of her friends. the first claim i’m going to talk about which i saw brought up quite a few times before is in regards to homura and mami. first of all, homura absolutely still cares for mami, and not just in the “i only care about your life if it affects madoka’s” way. one part that always gets me is when mami ties her up in the series timeline after homura frantically warns her that this witch isn’t normal, to which mami IMMEDIATELY brushes this off, without even giving homura a chance. then, when mami’s ribbons fade away, homura looks horrified and just goes “oh no...” and it’s kind of obvious to me that it was in response to mami’s death rather than madoka’s reaction. this is arguably up for debate i guess because i’ve seen different takes on that reaction and it’s ambiguous, i guess? but i’m about to get into something extremely similar and that’s the sayaka situation, where madoka throws sayaka’s soul gem onto a moving car. homura gasps and immediately pauses time and disappears, running in literal open traffic and climbing on top of a moving car to retrieve sayaka’s soul gem. one could argue that this is ALSO only just because homura wants to save madoka (and kyoko) the fear, but don’t you think her expression would be different? if homura truly didn’t care for sayaka’s wellbeing, wouldn’t she be making an expression more similar to like, “oh, this shit again...” instead of the frantic one she was making in the scene? this kind of thing Also happens when kyoko asks homura to leave while kyoko’s about to sacrifice herself in oktavia’s labyrinth, and homura looks up sadly at kyoko and then back down at madoka, and once she knew kyoko was dead, she just quietly said “kyoko...” to herself. she usually refers to them as [last name, first name], but she dropped that during that moment... it otherwise sounds like a bare minimum thing to do, but keep in mind the timeline we’re shown in the series is implied to be like, the 110th timeline, i think? like, this is the last timeline, she’s worn down, but she still does have empathy -- or at least sympathy -- for the others. she still loves them. 

homura promised to be madoka’s protector, she dedicated her life to her, and also she doesn’t have a choice not to dedicate her life to her anymore, even though that’s not fair to her... homura is in a really hopeless situation and madoka is her hope, and madoka is the one that judges her the least out of the quintet (like saying “i’m sure homura is good” to herself) upon first impression. also okay i mentioned this already in my last post (which you saw) but i’m going to bring it up one more time, homura is not mentally 26!!!!!! she is still 14 mentally!! in order to be 26, you have to have experienced 26 years of new life experience. maybe you acquire that through school, maybe you aquire that through friends, whatever it takes. but homura just repeated the same month over and over, and it’s not like her body (canonically) ages ever. she just kind of gets transported back into her body in the hospital again considering she’s back wearing her braids and pajamas... so, yeah. no mental development there. i also mentioned this here but i’m gonna say it again, that just makes it even harder for her to actually age correctly... it stunts her to 14. imagine being 14 for 10-11 years...

In Defense Of My Own Claims

btw before you think i’m just going full-on radical homura apologist, i’m not explaining all of this to be like “homura made ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS because her trauma gave her an excuse!!” because like, Obviously, she did a lot of bad things, she killed people, did a lot of callous things, a lot of thoughtless things, a lot of things that make her seem emotionless, etc. but i just have trouble blaming her considering how things ended up, and it’s not like she enjoys killing people. she’s not sadistic... she ends up becoming short with all the others not only because of her (extremely) weakened trust in them, but also because the amount of times she repeated the timeline. i’d imagine it makes her feel like the others can’t truly die because she can just go back and see them again. (this is also why wraith arc/post-tv series must’ve been hard for her because she can no longer turn back time, things are permanent now, deaths are forever) she’s become so worn down that she’ll do anything to escape the loops... also considering she has no choice but to continue? although it shouldn’t be, it’s technically her job as a magical girl to defeat all witches and walpurgisnacht counts. it kills magical girls and tears up the whole city and she’s usually the only magical girl left... her choices, when defeated, are either to give up and die or to go back and try again, and she made a promise to her first ever friend to do just the latter... i just don’t understand how this isn’t easier for people to comprehend, that all of this trauma and stress and responsibility on top of an already traumatized 14 year old does not mix well. ever. she had to figure out all of this by herself.

TL;DR:

homura was a previously traumatized, unsocialized 14 year old with (very)low self esteem & self worth whose first friend (and first love, really, let’s be honest) died in front of her in horrific ways and she watched as she (and the other friends she came to make) drifted slowly apart from her in her endless and futile attempt in saving her from what proved to be an inescapable fate. also she’s 14 and also she’s (canonically) mentally ill and a lesbian. not a monster, not evil, not “psycho”. and that’s that!

[regenderate-fic]

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 28

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan, Dan Lewis, Jack Harkness, Ryan Sinclair Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 1,596 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: this is the last real chapter before the epilogue! i don't know when the epilogue will go up but it will go up. i hope you liked the fic <3

Rose sits quietly with the Doctor, sipping her tea, thinking about John and the Doctor and all the differences between them and everything that’s the same. Until the Doctor says, “Are you all right?”

“I’m as all right as can be expected,” Rose decides. “You know. Still going through a lot and all that.”

“Yeah.” The Doctor takes a deep breath. “Any sort of healing takes time.”

“Yeah.” Rose sighs, putting her tea down on the nightstand next to her. “I just wish it were easier, is all.”

“You don’t really want that,” the Doctor says quietly. “Hard means you and John loved each other, right? Easier might mean you didn’t love him as much. Or you forgot him.”

The Doctor is right: both of those options are unthinkable. “I suppose so,” Rose says. She lets her head fall on the Doctor’s shoulder, and the Doctor wraps an arm around her. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“’Course you’re tired. Anyone would be, after what you’ve gone through.” The Doctor leans her head against Rose’s, letting her hand comb gently through Rose’s hair. Rose’s eyes slip closed at the touch. “Good news is, we’ve got loads of time to rest. Months and months, probably.”

Rose manages a laugh. “Suppose that’s why it’s your personal hell.”

“I could probably use some rest too, if we’re being honest,” the Doctor admits. “I was just running away from my problems. And I was right about the running, too! Second I stayed still, all those problems caught up to me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing, too, ‘cause otherwise you never would’ve talked to Yaz properly,” Rose says. “Or me, I suppose, but you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

“Not in a million years,” the Doctor says. She pulls Rose closer, turning her head so she’s speaking into Rose’s hair. “But, just for the record, I’m absolutely over the moon you’re here.”

Rose lifts her head to look at the Doctor. The Doctor’s looking back at her with that strange intensity in her gaze: it’s thrilling, now Rose has gotten used to it, now she sees it directed wholly and without reservation at her. She feels a little shy, somehow. The last time she felt shy like this— it was probably when she told the Doctor, the old Doctor, that she’d assembled the dimension canon so she could come back to him. She has the same sort of butterflies in her stomach— the same sense of knowing exactly how the Doctor feels but still feeling like it’s a risk to acknowledge it. It’s a nice kind of shy, actually, if only for the Doctor’s smile when Rose takes the risk. 

So she does.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” she says softly. And then she tips her head forward, just a little,  gauging the Doctor’s response. The Doctor matches the movement, their faces hovering millimeters from each other. Rose breathes shakily through her nose. 

It only takes the barest movement for their lips to meet, coming together in a flurry of love and understanding and, still, grief. 

Rose has never actually properly kissed the Doctor before— not as herself, within her memory. She kissed John, of course, but he wasn’t the Doctor. She knows, in theory, her first Doctor kissed her to get the time vortex out of her, but she was far enough gone that it didn’t register; and then Lady Cassandra kissed her second Doctor while in her body, but that was decidedly not Rose and did not count. As they got closer, he’d kiss her forehead sometimes, or her cheek, and she’d do the same for him—but they were both too scared to cross the line into overt romance.

Rose isn’t scared anymore. She’s lost too much: she’s lost the Doctor three times now, and she’s lost John, and she’s lost her family, and she’s not about to let herself lose the Doctor yet again without putting everything on the table. 

So she kisses the Doctor with everything she has, one hand at the back of her head, the other brushing her hair behind her ear, and the Doctor responds in kind, her hands cupping Rose’s face. It’s a little more desperate than Rose expected, all things considered, but of course it is. It’s thousands of years in the making, from the Doctor’s perspective, and from Rose’s— well, she just needs the emotional release. And it’s working: everything she’s been feeling lately rises up in her, and tears spring to her eyes. 

She pulls away. The Doctor is looking at her with so much love in her eyes, and it only makes Rose want to cry more. She feels a tear trickling down her cheek, and she looks away.

“Hope it wasn’t that bad,” the Doctor jokes.

“No,” Rose says. “No, it wasn’t. It’s just—“ She waves a hand.

The Doctor hooks an arm around Rose’s torso and pulls her close, letting Rose fall against her. “I know,” she says, soft and genuine. Rose buries her face in the crook of the Doctor’s neck.

“I love you,” she says, the words falling out of her mouth as if inevitable.

The Doctor doesn’t even hesitate.

“I love you too, Rose Tyler-Noble. Long past time I told you.”

Rose starts crying properly, then. She doesn’t even really know why: it’s just that the Doctor is being so kind, and it reminds Rose of John, of course, but then this is a confession she’s waited years for, something the Doctor couldn’t even say when it was her last chance in the universe.

And still, somehow it doesn’t feel like a big deal at all. It’s not earth-shattering— it’s not dramatic— it’s just the Doctor and Rose, sitting together in a quiet bedroom, sharing a moment.

They sit like that for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, Rose stops crying, and she’s able to look back up at the Doctor. The Doctor meets her eyes. Rose still can’t believe how much emotion this new Doctor can pack into one gaze: it’s dizzying, really. And so very beautiful.

Rose kisses her again, soft and slow and sweet. She’ll never get used to this, just like she never got used to it with John: the Doctor’s hands tangling in her hair, brushing the tears from her cheek, resting lightly on her waist. When Rose pulls away, she doesn’t go far. She just rests her forehead against the Doctor’s and closes her eyes. They hold that position for a long moment.

Unfortunately, the Doctor can’t stay still all that long. Rose has been pushing her luck, really, with her quiet moment, and now the Doctor is jumping up, saying, “D’you think Yaz wants to play Animal Crossing with us? We could have a party! I’ll host, I’ve got an amazing setup.”

“Sure, Doctor,” Rose says, unable to suppress a smile. “Go ask. And grab my Switch while you’re at it.”

The Doctor frowns. “Where do you keep it?”

“It’s in my room,” Rose says. “Ask Yaz. She knows.”

The Doctor practically runs out of the room, and Rose laughs. Ruby comes in, stepping adroitly around the clutter on the floor, and hops up on the bed, curling up right in Rose’s lap. Rose scratches behind her ears, still smiling.

Yaz comes in a moment later, Switch in hand. She sits next to Rose, joining Rose in stroking Ruby’s orange fur.

“You seem cheery,” she says.

Rose shrugs. “Just glad we’ve worked things out, is all.”

Yaz puts an arm around Rose and squeezes. “Yeah, me too.”

The Doctor appears in the doorway. “Found it!”  She’s holding up two devices: her Switch and Rose’s. She takes her place next to Yaz and passes Rose’s Switch across Yaz’s body to Rose.

The rest of the day passes peacefully, even joyfully. Rose still can’t believe that everything’s turned out so well— a week ago, she didn’t trust this Doctor at all, and Yaz was a total stranger. But the Doctor is still the Doctor, no matter what, and, as it turns out, the Doctor has good taste in friends. Or partners, as the case may be.

And that night, they’re all curled up together again in the Doctor’s bed, laughing as they compete for limited space and blankets. Finally, they settle down, Rose curled in the crook of the Doctor’s arm, Yaz lying across the Doctor’s chest with an arm slung over Rose.

“I don’t think it’ll always be this easy,” the Doctor says into the darkness. “Going to take time, yeah? To figure things out?”

“’Course it will,” Yaz says. “Nothing gets better in a day.”

“It’s been a good day, though,” Rose adds. She nestles in closer to the Doctor.

“That it has,” the Doctor agrees. “Just don’t want you two to go running when it turns out I’ve still got problems.”

“We know you’ve got problems,” Yaz says. “Seriously, Doctor. No one expects you to be healed right away.”

“It’s not like we’re without issues, either,” Rose points out. “But Doctor, I’ve spent so much of my life running towards you. I’ve worked for this. There’s not a chance I’m running away now.”

“Exactly,” Yaz agrees. “As long as you don’t run from us, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It won’t be easy. Rose knows that. Relationships are hard, even when everyone involved is human and healthy and not a time traveler. There’s a lot they’ll have to talk about, a lot they’ll have to work through. But now, tonight, as Rose falls asleep against the Doctor, Yaz’s arm still around her waist, she finally feels safe.

[iturbide]

AU Masterlist

For ease of reference, all AUs will be linked to their respective tag on the blog; for fics marked as ‘In Progress’ or ‘Complete,’ status will link to AO3 if the work has an entry there; for fics marked as ‘One-Shot,’ status will link to either AO3 or Tumblr; for fics marked as ‘In Development,’ status will link to a Tumblr summary or outline of the complete work; all ‘In Planning’ works will be left unlinked. 

Fire Emblem: Awakening

The Future Built Upon the Past (In Progress) - My Awakening magnum opus; a look at the events of the doomed timeline and how it led to the course of events that eventually sent Lucina back in time to alter the course of fate.

Affectionately Yours (Complete) - Accepting Plegia’s invitation to visit in his sister’s stead, Chrom rapidly comes to realize that everything he thought he knew about the halidom’s neighbor is at best a wild exaggeration thanks to the guidance of Plegia’s sovereign, Robin.

Cursed Fate (Complete) - A Shadow of the Colossus AU; following Robin’s death, Chrom takes his body back to Plegia for burial; when a disembodied whisper confirms that there may be a chance to restore Robin’s life, Chrom goes on a quest through the Grimleal nation to bring together Grima’s remains.

Crown of Shadows (Complete) / The Shrouded Throne (Complete) - A split-path narrative where, to stop the civil war raging in Plegia, Robin comes to Ylisse to beg aid from Exalt Emmeryn.    After getting drafted by accident into the Shepherds, the Plegian and the Ylissean prince become fast friends – and very soon, something more. 

Accursed Divine (In Progress) - Robin is trapped in a curse that transforms her by day into a fell beast.  Once the curse is broken, the ensuing political drama follows Robin and Chrom uniting their countries after Robin’s ascension to the Plegian throne.

Sigh No More (In Progress) - An arranged marriage AU where following a crushing defeat at Plegian hands, Chrom’s father is forced to wed his son to Robin, who due to Validar’s ritual in her early life now bears more than just Grima’s mark as a sign of her fellblood; despite a rocky beginning, the two become friends and even find love in the union that had only ever been part of politics and power.

Beyond Twilight’s Veil (In Planning) - When Risen begin appearing in Ylisse, Chrom ventures into Plegia on Emmeryn’s behalf to try to find a joint solution, meeting and readily befriending Robin along the way.  When things go wrong, leaving Robin half-transformed and Validar dead, the Shepherds are forced to flee Gangrel’s pursuit; two years later, Robin claims the Plegian throne and reaches out to Ylisse in an attempt to rebuild lost friendships.

War Crimes (In Planning) - A collab with anankos; the Exalt of Ylisse becomes a willing host to Naga’s power in a bid to wipe Plegia off the map, but the Fell Dragon’s return puts the war in a deadlock.  Chrom is kidnapped and brought to Plegia in a desperate bid to open diplomatic channels, but when that fails he ends up as as a guest and becomes unlikely friends with Robin, the son of a Plegian tactician (who has more than a few secrets).

Manwearer (In Planning) - After becoming separated from his mother, Robin is raised by the taguel of Panne’s warren.  On hearing about a threat to the Exalt’s life, the warren mobilizes to her aid, and Robin and Panne ally with the Shepherds to uncover the deeper mystery behind the attack. 

Assassin’s Creed: Awakening (In Planning) - An Assassin’s Creed AU; when Emmeryn is kidnapped and slated to become a Grimleal sacrifice, Chrom and the Shepherds rush to save her – only her rescue comes at Plegian hands, instead.  Defying his crusading father, Chrom chooses to stand by Robin and ends up embroiled in a millennia-old conflict between secret forces.

Smoke and Mirrors (In Planning) - A Pokemon crossover AU; Robin and her Zoroark Reflet (who prefers a human guise that passes for her brother) join with Chrom, a Pokemon Ranger branching out into competitive training; and his sister Lissa, an aspiring pokemon medic.   This brings them into conflict with the Grimleal who are hunting for the Legendary Pokemon Giratina – a pokemon that Robin and Reflet have a very curious connection to.

Sibling AU (In Planning) - Grima is Robin’s older brother and unwilling puppet ruler of Plegia; when Emmeryn invites the recently-crowned king to Ylisse for diplomatic discussions, Grima sneaks his younger brother along to show him the world he’s never had a chance to see, and both unexpectedly find new friends in what they long believed were enemy lands.

Cardcaptor Lissa (In Planning) - A Cardcaptor Sakura crossover AU where Lissa accidentally unseals the Book of Naga and releases magical cards into the world; with the help of a tiny dragon named Tiki, she has to recapture them all before Grima reawakens to usher in the end of days. 

Promare AU (In Planning) - A Promare AU; after Chrom thwarts a group of Grimleal dark mages from kidnapping an Ylissean family, his world is turned upside down by a series of shocking revelations, and he chooses to side with Robin to save the Ylissean Grimleal imprisoned by his father’s orders.

As You Are (In Planning) - Robin comes to Ylisse on a diplomatic mission, hoping to warn the Exalt of a potential threat; when an attack leaves the Plegian blind, Chrom confesses his feelings – only to be rebuffed as Robin believes that the feelings are born of guilt, leaving Chrom to grapple with what he fears are unrequited feelings.

Pride and Joy (In Planning) - Raised in Plegia under Mustafa’s care, Robin is drafted into Validar’s assassination attempt on Emmeryn – but decides that the orders should not be fulfilled and defects, saving the Exalt’s life.  In the trials to follow, Robin tries to keep the Ylisseans safe from Gangrel’s forces without exposing her own wavering loyalties.

Prisoner of War (In Planning) - The Exalt’s war has left Plegia in ruins, its citizens scattered and the remnants of the army using guerrilla tactics to oppose the crusade.   When his father calls him to the front, Chrom is captured by the Plegian resistance, and rapidly discovers that everything he thought he knew about Plegia (and the Heart of Grima who took him captive) is wrong.

Speaker for the Dead (In Planning) - Raised under Validar’s cruel abuse, Robin exists as little more than a hollow shell, surviving each day on the battlefield.  When Chrom reaches out to him and offers a glimpse of something better than the threat of death, Robin cautiously accepts and gradually begins to recover from the traumas of Validar’s upbringing.

Design Defect (One-Shot) - A modern AU where Robin is the son of the head of the Grimleal mafia who enters Ylisstol University and meets Chrom, son of Exalt Corp’s CEO and the heir to the family company.  While Robin might have some ulterior motives for getting close to Chrom at first, he quickly gets in over his head.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Kintsugi (In Planning) - A Golden Deer-based golden route, where Claude decides from the moment he reunites with Byleth that they’re going to save as many lives as possible.

Pre-Timeskip Fix-It (In Planning) - A Black Eagles-based fix-it AU where Byleth gets to shut down Edelgard’s alarming rhetoric every time she opens her mouth, and the Imperial princess stumbles her way through the process of becoming a better person.

Spite Project (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where the question of “what would have happened if Edelgard had hired Miklan to kill Claude and Dimitri at the start of the year?” leads to Claude and Dimitri saving each other in more ways than one. 

Bad End AU (In Development) - A Crimson Flower AU exploring the logical consequences and fall-out associated with Edelgard’s conquest of Fodlan, her deceptions regarding the Agarthan menace, and her choice to kill Claude at Derdriu.

Proof of Life (One-Shot) - After establishing an uneasy alliance at Gronder, the joint Kingdom and Alliance forces proceed north to free Faerghus from Imperial control.  On the way, Dimitri and Claude are ambushed by an Imperial assassin, leaving Claude seriously injured; on the way to safety, though, Dimitri is shaken by the Alliance leader’s words, and begins to question his purpose and his ultimate goals.

Fire Emblem: Heroes

Hard Reset (In Planning) - A bad-end Heroes AU where Muspell invades Askr and wipes out the Order of Heroes – but before Surtr can kill Kiran, they fire Breidablik, which somehow transports them to another Zenith.  Taken in by the Emblians, Kiran sets about trying to prevent the ruin that befell the world they were first summoned to.

Controlled Chaos (One-Shot) - In the midst of battle against Muspell, Kiran is taken prisoner by Laegjarn and whisked away from the field; when the leaders of the Order elect to wait, the Heroes take matters into their own hands -- led by the last Hero anyone would have expected.

To The Last (One-Shot) - Though peace has finally established between Askr and Embla, Kiran is unexpectedly struck down by an old illness from their life before they were summoned; the Heroes band together in hopes of finding a cure...but in the end, it all comes down to a prayer.

Promare

Life Goes On (In Planning) - My Promare magnum opus and a direct sequel to Send the Scourge, Send the Swarm exploring the Parnassus aftermath, the Promeopolis Burnish and their recovery and reintroduction to society, and the gradual evolution of the city through the combined influence of the wider Federation and the growing Burnish activism movement. 

The Enemy of My Enemy (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Lio and the Mad Burnish managed to save those captured by Freeze Force before they were taken to the Lake Friege detention center; after awkwardly helping the Mad Burnish slip through Kray’s trap, Galo inadvertently becomes entangled with the affairs of the terrorist organization.

Pokemon

Project: Elements (In Planning) - My Pokemon magnum opus following a scientist in Team Rocket who discovers that her genetic theory has been put into practice without her knowledge or consent; taking charge of the project herself, she finds herself warring with the ethics and morality of her work when young lives hang in the balance.

Pokekids (In Planning) - Based on an FYCD prompt meshed with an original story in development; the story revolves around an original region and original characters setting out on their journey, the challenges they meet along the way, and the friends they make in the process.

InuYasha

The Rising Wind (Complete) - An AU fic based on loveyou-x3000′s Wind Prompt, exploring the aftermath of Kagura’s death, her revival in a borrowed human form, her developing bond with Sesshomaru, and their eventual family.

Maelstrom (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Sesshomaru diverts Kagura after she betrays Naraku, preventing her death at his hands; as she becomes ingrained within the group, though, Naraku sees an opportunity to make use of her even when she is not within his direct control.

Ace Attorney

Crime of Passion (In Development) - My Ace Attorney magum opus; Miles Edgeworth is once again accused of murder and taken in by police, but this time Phoenix Wright won’t be able to take his case -- because the victim of the crime is none other than the defense attorney.  It’s up to Maya to defend the prosecutor this time, while Miles is forced to confront the hard truths about his relationship with the missing lawyer.

[wiener-soldiers]

tipsy (i) - peter parker

summary: you lost five years of your life to the blip. five years without your family, your friends, and without really being alive. your dad’s solution? send you and your friends on a fully-paid vacation to spain. no superheroes stuff, no villains; just pure, teenage fun. how eventful could one week be?

words: 1.1k

pairing: peter parker x stark! reader

warnings: drinking (not really underage if they’re legal in that country), typical teenage stuff, young love and pining

parts: part one, part two, part three

a/n: ooey gooey teenage fluff

Basic-(Y/N) did not come out often.

She was often reserved for the two months of the year where you aren’t worried about grades and school and being stuck in an Infinity stone or whatever happened; summer.

And when summer rolled around, the VSCO-loving, Instagram-whore, Basic-(Y/N) made herself known.

You weren’t really one to try to keep up with ever-changing Instagram trends (not that you are a “not-like-the-other-girls’ trope, you just had more important things to worry about), but during the summer, everyone, most especially your dad and your best friend, encouraged you to let loose a little bit more.

So, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fiddling with the friendship bracelet that Morgan, your stepsister, had made for you a few days prior, and readjusting your incognito airport outfit.

“You’re overthinking this,” your Dad says as he leans on the door frame to your bathroom, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he watches you decide whether or not you will be joining your friends on a trip to Barcelona, Spain.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “Yeah well, I don’t know why you’re letting me go to Spain with my friends. You’re planning something, aren’t you.”

“I am not!” he defends himself.

“Dad, you wouldn’t be paying for this trip unless you had some kind of motive,” you scoff, “Flying a bunch of teenagers to a country where we are legal? You are definitely up to something.”

Your Dad sighs before pushing himself off the threshold and walking towards you, arms open in an embrace. You quickly step into chest and breath the scent of whatever new cologne he’s wearing as he straps his arms tightly around you. You both stay in that position for a while before your Dad pulls away, ducking his head to look at your face. You stare back up at him.

“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know the Blip was hard for this family. You disappeared and came back with a new baby sister and a family who still mourned but tried to still carry on.”

Your eyes water at the thought of Morgan, the sister you cared about so deeply despite not being there for a lot of her ‘firsts.’

Your Dad smiles softly at you as you bury your head into the t-shirt he wore underneath his blazer. He rubs your back and continues, “But sweetheart, you gotta be a kid again. That grape took so much of your teenage years away and as a Father, isn’t it my job to bring it back?”

“But the drinking—”

“All of you would technically be legal if you hadn’t Blipped, except for that Brad kid. Wasn’t he like, two feet tall before?”

You laugh at him and shake your head, “I don’t know, he was really nice to me after I came back. Super understanding—I guess the trip felt like it’d be more fun with him?”

Your Dad gives his signature Tony Stark eye-roll, “Whatever, better be a good kid if I’m paying for him to go to Europe.”

The two Starks laugh in the bathroom in each other’s embrace when a buzz from your back pocket prompts you to pull away.

“Lemme guess, it’s Parker?”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your best-friend, “It is not—”

You cut yourself off at the sight of the text:

pete :)  may says u should be at the airport like 4 hrs before the flight? u still coming to pick me up or what?

“It was him wasn’t it?”

You collect your stuff and playful shove past your Dad, “He was just complaining that you take too long.”

--

Peter Parker had a long couple of months.

In an attempt to regain some of his teenage years back, he had agreed to go to Europe with his class to try to live a normal life—or some semblance of normality.

Instead, he spent his time fighting Mysterio and whatever Inception-shit that guy pulled off.

You had not been on the Europe trip as you and the rest of the Starks spent several months off-the-grid in their Upstate cabin, learning to be a family again. Peter understood the situation just fine: you had been Blipped and came back with a kid-sister. He was glad that you go to spend time with your family and adjusting to life again.

He still missed you though.

However mere weeks after the original Europe trip, Peter couldn’t say that he was expecting the text message from a group chat that he got.

(y/n)     im not in hiding any more yall. lets go on a trip

ned      the last time i was on a trip i literally almost died

betty    a trip? to where? we could come visit you upstate!!

(y/n)     don’t bother im moving back to the city with the fam. and i was thinking something…farther?

ned      florida?

mj        who in their right mind you want to go to florida?

flash    me

mj        my point still stands

brad    canada?

(y/n)     beautiful country but i can only take trees for so long. dad’s thinking spain? barcelona has sick beaches

ned      not all of us can afford spain…

betty    and ned’s original point? last time we were in europe we almost died

(y/n)     first off! a few things are gonna be different! one, ill be there. two, the avengers have resettled, my dad’s moving back into the city so threats can be handled by them. and three, dad’s paying for the whole thing. says we need a PROPER vacation. not like your europe trip that sounded like hell

peter    cmon guys i think it’ll be a good idea. we could all use a hard reset before school starts up again.

That’s where Peter found himself; sitting on the couch playing iMessage games with you as an episode of Law and Order played aimlessly in the background. His suitcase lied on his lap to make sure that May couldn’t sneak the suit in there when he wasn’t looking. Everyone needed a real vacation; he was just happy Mr. Stark felt the same way.

“No suit this time?” May asks from in front of him. He looks up and finds her holding the suit with eyebrows raised.

He shakes his head, “Mr. Stark said he’s got all threats under control and that we should just be kids and enjoy our trip.”

She nods understandingly and presses a kiss to Peter’s head, “That I can agree with. But if anything goes wrong, you call Happy okay? He’ll come get you.”

Peter shudders, “I can’t believe you’re dating him.”

“I wouldn’t call it dating per se…”

“May!”

A loud honk from the open window separates the two of them. Peter winces slightly before looking at his phone, only to see a text from you from a couple of minutes ago.

(y/n) <3    expect a honk! warned you lol

“That’s my ride,” Peter says before embracing May.

“Be good,” she says affectionately.

Peter nods against her, “Aren’t I always?”

taglist:  @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape @httpmcrvel @lionheo04

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 11/?

May I? - 11/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ geekygwen

Data left Faith's quarters, replaying the kiss in his mind over and over again. It was the first one he himself had initiated and he was still uncertain as to what made him do so. However, when he told her he enjoyed it, he was not putting up a pretense. While it caused no emotional reaction, he was still able to appreciate the nuance of the kiss.

Faith's lips were soft against his but firm in their pressure. He could hear her heart beating wildly, sense elevated blood flow running through her veins. The way she looked at him when he pulled away was what stuck with him the most. Hyperspace reflected in her pupils, dilated with arousal. She had studied him as if she were afraid he would disappear, taking in every detail she could.

No one had ever looked at him like that before. And that was what he enjoyed.

He had every bit of confidence in her ability to handle her new position within Engineering, though there was another matter that Data needed to address.

Geordi was busy organizing his staff when Data arrived. The android took note of who was available, searching for Carver. When he did not find him, he approached Geordi just as his friend was finishing up his instructions. 

"Team One you'll stay here and begin repairs. Sawyer, I want you to keep a list of needs to be done at starbase and what we can do on our own. Team Two, you'll help me dismantle the device for study. If anyone comes back from sickbay, let me know and I'll assign them a team. Team Two, be ready to go in five minutes."

Everyone scattered to get to work and Geordi turned to Data. "How's Faith?" he asked.

"She is resting, per Dr. Crusher. She will be ready to take her post by morning," Data informed him.

"Good. I'm glad she's alright. She did a damn good job today."

"Yes, she did," Data said. "Have you spoken to Ensign Carver about his behavior?"

"Oh yeah," Geordi assured him. "It was the first thing I did when I got back."

"Where is he?"

Geordi gestured towards the warp core. "Working with his tail between his legs. He knows he screwed up. I don't foresee any more trouble coming from him anytime soon."

"Excellent." Data turned and headed in that direction.

"Whoa, hey, where are you going?" Geordi asked. 

"I must speak with him myself."

"What are you going to say?"

"While I was waiting with Faith in sickbay, I researched ways to defend the honor of one's romantic partner," Data explained. "I then pulled from my research and wrote a program based on this particular situation and what I believe Faith will or will not appreciate."

"In other words, a guy insulted your woman and you're gonna give him a piece of your mind?"

Data gave a firm nod. "Precisely."

Geordi smirked and lovingly shook his head. He put his hands up in surrender and said, "Be my guest." As Data walked by him, Geordi grabbed his arm to stop him. "Seems like that dinner was a date after all."

"It at least was an attempt. We will try again once things are less hectic."

"I'm happy for you, Data."

"Thank you, Geordi."

Data took the lift up to the second level. He found Carver fixing one of the conduits but as he approached, the ensign immediately stopped his work and straightened up.

"Commander!" he exclaimed. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe you and I need to have a talk," Data said. "It is about what happened this evening."

Carver had the decency to look sheepish. "Commander La Forge already spoke to me. I am so sorry! I was way out of line."

"That you were. But this is of a personal nature," Data said. "I do not appreciate you insinuating that Faith was being unjust in her reaction because she and I were intimate."

Carver's eyes widened. He clearly was not expecting Data to question him directly about the incident.

"Commander, I—"

"I am not finished," Data interrupted. "Not only were your comments based on false information, but you also insulted her honor and integrity. I can only assume you jumped to the wrong conclusion when you overheard me speaking to Commander La Forge this morning. After this talk, I will not air my personal life out in the open. Regardless, you were in the wrong and I expect you to apologize to Lieutenant Diaz when she arrives tomorrow morning." He stepped in closer, voice dropping into a low but firm tone. "Understood? " 

Carver swallowed thickly, nodding. "Y-Yes, sir. I will, sir. Again, I am so sorry."

Data took another step closer and Carver practically shrank back. "She does not need me to fight her battles, nor do I wish to overstep, but should I hear even a whisper of insubordination or crudeness coming from you, it will be me you have to deal with. Am I making myself clear?"

Carver nodded again, harder this time. "Yes, sir."

Data straightened his stance and took a step back. "Good. I am glad we had this discussion. Carry on." He turned and left Carver behind, satisfied in his approach. 

Geordi was waiting for him when he stepped off the lift. "Feeling better?"

Data did not have the need to reiterate his lack of emotions. Instead, he said, "Much. I shall return to my quarters to check on Spot. I will be working from my console for the remainder of the evening, analyzing the enemy ship. Please let me know once the dismantling of the device is complete."

"Will do, buddy. See you in the morning."

Data nodded and left Engineering.

He found Spot hiding under the bed. It took some coaxing for her to come out but when she finally did, Data rewarded her with her favorite supplements. 

Data sat at his console, loading all the information from the battle. The ship that attacked them was an anomaly. While its warp function did not match up to the Enterprise, its weapon system did. It bore no resemblance to any of the Federation's known enemies and it never responded to their hails. It attacked them completely unprovoked. 

Logically, it did not make sense.

Data worked through the evening, analyzing and compiling information. Worf's security sweep yielded nothing and Engineering was still dismantling the device by the time oh-seven hundred hours came.

Deciding to meet Faith before their shifts, Data left his quarters. She answered the door already dressed, but her eyes told Data she had not slept well.

"Good morning," he said, stepping into her quarters. "You do not look particularly rested."

"I don't feel it either," she said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. "Let me grab some coffee and then we can head out." She walked over to the replicator. "French vanilla coffee, hot, cream and two sugars."

As the cup appeared, Data said. "I believe we concluded having only coffee for breakfast is not nutritious."

Faith rolled her eyes but there was affection in her gaze. "Scrambled eggs with two pieces of buttered wheat toast." She made a show of holding up the plate when it appeared. "There, better?"

"Better." 

They sat at her table together and Data watched as Faith took a dutiful bite of toast before reaching for her coffee.

"I was monitoring the investigation's progress last night when I couldn't sleep," she said. "Can't say I'm surprised security didn't find anything."

"Neither was I," Data said. "Our culprit does seem to be a slippery foe. However, I believe I may have created a way to detect how they are cloaking themselves."

"How?"

She reached for the coffee again but at Data's raised eyebrow, she took a spoonful of eggs first before taking another sip.

"Last year, we encountered a group of terrorists who traveled inter-dimensionally. It was highly unstable and harmful to travelers. However, it allowed them to transport without being detected. The computer still has the data from their devices. I believe I can use that information to create our own device that will detect that technology."

"Excellent. If we can connect it to the sensors, we'd be able to tell if someone decides to pop up on our ship."

"Precisely."

"Would we be able to stop them from leaving again?"

Data considered her question. "With a few minor adjustments, I believe that will be possible."

"Great! Let's get started!" Faith stood but Data touched her hand.

"Faith, I do not wish to come across as pushy, but you will function more efficiently with the proper sustenance."

Faith chuckled. "Are you telling me to finish my food first?"

"I will ask that you consider it."

She smiled and sat back down. "You know, Data, if you were anyone else I'd be annoyed or angry."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'd feel like they were judging me," she said, returning to her breakfast. "At least with you, my anxiety can't go that route. I know it's because you are genuinely concerned."

"While I appreciate the compliment, I will say that I do not believe those close to you on the Enterprise will judge either."

"No. No, I suppose they wouldn't. Alright, let me finish this so we can go." She scooped the eggs between two pieces of toast and bit into the makeshift sandwich. 

Once she was done eating, Data put her plate back on the replicator for her while she downed the rest of her coffee.

Before they left, however, an alarm peeped and she stopped by her desk. "Almost forgot!" she said, pulling out her hypospray.

Data watched her take her medication before replacing the device. "Computer, reset alarm," she said as she adjusted her uniform. She turned to Data. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful."

She smiled softly, reaching for his hands which he accepted. "Thank you," she said. "For caring."

"You are welcome."

They did not leave her quarters hand in hand. Faith let him go as soon as they crossed the threshold. Together they walked in silence, though Data did not feel that Faith was at ease. Data could sense the tension in her. 

"What is occupying your thoughts?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"To me, yes."

Faith was silent for several seconds. "Do you think Geordi said anything to Carver?" she eventually asked.

"He did," Data said. "As did I."

Faith stopped walking but it took Data a second to notice. When he did, he paused and turned to look back at her. 

"You spoke to Carver?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"His behavior towards you and insinuations needed to be addressed."

Faith did not look relieved or appreciative. "But I was going to address them. Now he's really going to think I can't take care of myself." Her voice sounded strained and he could identify the panic in her eyes.

"I do not share your conclusion," Data countered. "Your actions during the battle proved otherwise as did your ability to speak out against him." He studied Faith's expression. "Did I make an error? Are you angry?"

She took a deep breath as she rubbed her forehead absentmindedly. "No. Well, yes, a little," she admitted. "Just...if this happens again, please let me handle it on my own."

"I understand and I apologize if I overstepped," Data apologized. "If it helps, I did preface my comments by saying you do not require me to fight your battles."

Her lips twitched into a smile and she began to walk again, catching up to Data so they could continue together. "That does help a bit. Apology accepted."

"I shall adjust the program as necessary."

"Program?" 

"As you know, I lack sufficient programming for many human situations. Last night I wrote a program designed specifically to defend your honor."

"Aww, you wrote a program for me? How sweet."

"If you do not wish for me to defend you at all, I can delete the program."

"Well, let's not be too hasty. How about this: if someone insults me to your face, then feel free to defend me however your program sees fit. Sound good?"

"I can establish those parameters." 

When they reached Engineering, they were met by Geordi. "Glad you guys are here," he said. "Faith, I need you to continue coordinating repairs. We'll be reaching the starbase soon and I want the crews to be able to start the second they get on board."

"On it, Commander," she said with a nod. "I'll talk to you two later." She shot Data a smile before taking her leave.

"Data, take a look at this," Geordi said, pulling up the device's schematics on the main console. "My team just finished our investigation."

"Did you find something intriguing about the transmitter's construction?"

"That's the crazy thing…no," Geordi said. "We found nothing unusual or interesting. It was a standard transmitter made from basic materials. Aside from the fact that it was seemingly made by ghosts, it's not special at all. There's absolutely no signature or indication of where it came from."

Data scanned through the information, cross-referencing it with the reports he and Faith had compiled to ensure nothing was overlooked. Finding no inconsistencies, he took control of the console from Geordi.

"I have been constructing plans for a device that can detect and disable interdimensional travel," he said. "Since we know the intruders are not physically on the ship and it is highly improbable they were able to transport on, it is my next working theory."

"At this point, I'd try anything," Geordi sighed, sounding exhausted. "How long will it take to build?"

"I will need several hours."

"Do it. And while you and Faith have got this covered, I'm going to get to some sleep."

"That is a good idea. I will contact you once the work is complete."

"Thanks." Geordi stepped away to speak with Faith before he left to go rest.

Data spent the rest of the day focused on his device. It was difficult finding the right parts, as many spare materials were being used for the ship repairs. But he managed to improvise when necessary.

Occasionally, Faith would come over to check on him, but for the most part, he worked in solitude, determined to produce something that could give them an edge.

It was well into the night by the time he finished. By then, Faith had already retired to her quarters and the night Engineering crew had started. 

Data knew his device would work and after integrating it with the sensors, he let Worf and Geordi know what to look out for before he too retired for the day.

With nothing to do with the investigation except to wait, Data decided to take part in one of his recreations. He had the image of Faith in the starlight that he wanted to capture on canvas. After feeding Spot, he set up his supplies and began to paint.

He had been painting for two hours and sixteen minutes when his door chimed. "Come in."

The doors opened and Faith shuffled in. Data had not expected to see her before morning. She was wearing a fluffy robe tied at the waist and had braided her hair per usual, but the loose strands suggested she had been tossing and turning. The dark circles under her eyes supported his theory.

"Cannot sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I keep dozing off and then waking up," she muttered with a pout.

She wandered into the living area and dropped down onto the couch across from him. "Find anything useful with your device?"

"Not yet."

"If that doesn't work, what's your plan?"

Data opened his mouth to answer but then stopped. Instead, he put down his paintbrush, giving her his full attention.

"I do not think working will help your insomnia," he said. 

"I'll be fine, Data."

He knew this to be false. Sleep was essential to humans just as eating, drinking, and breathing.

"I do not share in your assessment," Data said. "You have been working very hard and need your rest in order to have full control of your mental faculties. I must insist you go to bed."

"Since when did you become so protective?" Faith asked. Her tone suggested she was teasing him.

"Since I adjusted your defense program to include a protective function. Now…" He put his hands on his hips to simulate a stern stance. "Will you go willingly or will I have to make you?"

What he said seemed to have a different effect on Faith than he anticipated. Rather than looking chastised or sheepish, her face flushed and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.

"Make me?"

"I am stronger than you. I will carry you to bed if need be."

"Uh...I'll, uh, I'll go to bed on my own," she stuttered, getting to her feet. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Data studied her retreating frame curiously. "Did I make an error again? I did not mean to come across as controlling."

"N-No, you didn't. You're fine. Really fine. It's fine." She quickened her pace, almost reaching the door.

Her nervousness was different. Data ran through the scenarios until he realized what was wrong. "Did my forceful tone arouse you?" he asked.

Faith halted her steps and turned back around, showcasing the sheepish look he had been anticipating earlier.

"You took me by surprise is all," she said. "I've never heard you be so...firm before." Her hand reached up to fiddle with the end of her braid. "Don't worry about it. Actually, can we just forget this ever happened?"

"Not possible. I do not forget anything."

"Yeah, figured it was a long shot to ask." She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I shall refrain from using such a tone when we are not alone, so not to arouse you in public."

At that, Faith chuckled. "I'm an adult, Data. I'm not gonna throw my legs in the air every time I hear you give someone an order."

"Legs in the air?" He processed her words. "Ah. You mean sex." Data raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish to do so now? We are not currently in public."

"Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"I am asking if that is something you wish to do at this moment."

Faith studied him curiously. "You don't feel sexual desire, correct?"

"That is correct."

"So you asking me right now is purely for my benefit? You don't get anything out of it?"

"Not necessarily," Data corrected. "While it is true I do not feel pleasure as humans do, I can appreciate the need for sex and the closeness it provides. As I stated previously, I am fully capable of engaging in intercourse and am programmed in many techniques."

"Have you had sex before?"

"Yes. Only once. Six years, seven months, and twenty-two days ago."

Faith looked pensive. "I guess I never thought about whether or not you had sex."

"Because I am an android, most assume I cannot," he said. "Do you not wish for our relationship to become sexual? I would ask if you are sexually attracted to me but based on certain reactions I know that you are."

Faith's face increased in temperature again and she folded her arms across her chest in a protective stance. "I am," she admitted. "But we just became close and I'm not ready for that yet."

"I understand. For most beings it is a big step forward in the relationship," Data said. "Would you be more comfortable discussing this at another time?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"Very well," Data said. "Though, when I ordered you to bed, I did not intend for you to leave so soon. You may sleep in my bed if it will help your anxiety."

Faith smiled softly and closed the distance between them, uncrossing her arms. "May I kiss you, Data?"

"That would be acceptable."

She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers playing idly with his hair before she pulled him down into a kiss. Data placed his hands on her waist, tilting his head to provide the most comfortable angle for her. 

When her lips met his, they were softer than before and slightly dry. She sighed and let her eyes flutter closed. Data mirrored her, calculating the safe amount of pressure he could apply. 

Three seconds later she withdrew, her forehead pressed against his. After another soft peck, arms slipped from his neck and she smiled up at him.

"Still as good as the first time."

"That is nice of you to say but you do not need to sate my ego, as I do not have one."

"Trust me, I wouldn't. I'm not that type of person," Faith said. "I meant what I feel when I kiss you is still as strong as before."

"Ah, I see. May I ask what it is that you feel?"

"Once I can articulate it, I'll let you know," she yawned and slipped her arms around his waist in a light hug. "I should sleep now."

"Yes, you should."

He led her over to the bed, pulling back the blanket so she could lay down. She removed her robe, draping it over the couch. Underneath she wore a nightgown. It was made of rather thin material and Data noted that it hugged her frame in a flattering way. Once she slid into bed, he tucked her in like he had the night before.

"Computer, dim lights."

The room grew dark and Faith shifted to get comfortable. Data recalled several hundred old Earth movies he had downloaded when researching romance and leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

"Sweet dreams."

Faith smiled, her eyes already drooping. "Good night."

Data left her alone and went back to his painting. He listened to her heartbeat steadily and then her breathing evened out, signaling she was fast asleep. He found he enjoyed her presence even when she was not awake. Data never considered himself lonely by any means, but having another person in the room did offer a comfort he had not expected.

Three hours later, Data's communicator beeped.

"Lieutenant Worf to Commander Data. The sensors picked up a signature. Please come to the Bridge."

"I'm on my way," Data responded.

He knew it was too early to wake Faith, so he decided to leave her be. Before he left, he replicated a rose like the one he had Guinan bring for their date. 

Data set the glass vase on the small nightstand. The blanket had slipped off so he gently draped it back over her. It was then he noticed Spot curled up asleep at the foot of the bed. 

This intrigued him but he did not feel the need to move the feline as she was not disturbing Faith. 

Studying the image of the two for a moment, he allowed himself a soft smile before refocusing his attention and going to meet Worf.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5014 Chapter: 7/9 Rated: T+ Summary: When his brother disappears coming home from town Madara goes looking for him only for both to end up taken prisoner in a castle hidden by magic generations ago. The candelabras talk, the furniture sleeps, and a great white beast hides himself away in the eastern wing. As he uncovers the story behind this place and gets to know the last small group of ‘survivors’ Madara gradually makes a new home here in the least likely of places.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 7

Gently swirling the contents of the flask in his hands, Madara watched the translucent liquid rotate in small waves for a few moments before lowering it to resume rolling the glass between both palms as he had been for the past several minutes. In general he’d never been the type for nervous fidgeting but Hashirama's suggestion had confused him and awoken a strange nervous energy of sorts.

“This medicine is for Izuna,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” Hashirama agreed, “but I believe it is important that you take some as well.”

“Why would I drink someone else’s medicine?” It seemed a waste, especially after the happy discovery that it did not disappear at the midnight reset.

Hopping closer along the kitchen counter, Hashirama lifted both hands to still his movements, the wicks in his candles thankfully unlit. “It may do you some good as well. My brother assisted me in reading several of the journals we did not look through before and one of them mentioned that those who spend time near a person infected with your brother’s illness may contract it themselves.”

“But I’m not sick! I’m not coughing or anything! Wouldn’t I have shown some kind of symptoms by this point?”

“Ah, there lies the rub. According to one physician’s notes the illness may lie dormant for months or even years without any signs until something awakens the symptoms. I believe it was referred to as latent tuberculosis – and I also believe that you may have been infected.” Hashirama's candles gripped him tightly as one might clutch at someone’s fingers. “Please, my friend, allot yourself a portion of this medicine. It would not do to cure your brother at last only to fall ill yourself instead!”

Madara lowered his gaze to stare at the flask again, turning that information over in his mind. He’d heard of that before. One of the farmers he used to serve at the inn had stopped coming in to the village square when people finally put two and two together to realize that any pregnant woman who came in contact with him tended to lose the child. They called him a ‘carrier’, although what he was carrying Madara had never bothered to figure out. He himself would never have a wife, what with his attraction to men, so he hadn’t cared much to learn about the exact dangers.

After promising Hashirama he would think about it Madara disentangled himself from their odd embrace and hurried away. The flask slipped neatly in to his pocket for later while he strode through the halls towards the front door. His limbs began to shiver the moment he stepped outside but it was easy enough to put up with a bit of shivering when he knew he would be sweating through his coat very shortly.

True to an earlier promise, Tobirama had thrown himself in to the task of training Madara in the use of a gunbai with surprising enthusiasm. Six out of seven days they met, ran through a specific set of warm up stretches to loosen their muscles, then sparred until the massive weapon began to slip from Madara's grasp. Apparently he could only be considered a master of the art when he could endure any amount of abuse without ever allowed the gunbai to leave his grip. Considering how tired he usually was at the end of their daily exercise Madara had quickly built an appreciation for the strength of warriors in Tobirama’s time. They must have taken battle quite seriously.

Struggle as he might, in the end Madara was forced to admit defeat when he could not convince his arms to lift the weapon he had fallen in love with even one more time. The entire bottom half of his body was soaked through from stumbling around in the snow but his shirts were damp only with the sweat from his own body as he jammed the gunbai in to the ground and leaned heavily on it in an attempt to catch his breath.

“Your abilities are growing at an admirable rate,” Tobirama mentioned, already politely cleaning the blade he preferred to use for their training sessions.

“Right,” Madara snorted. “My ability to get clobbered in to the ground.”

His friend granted him a fond smile. “Would it make you feel better to know that I would be much less of an opponent were I blessed with my natural size once more?”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Truly I am not. I was trained as all my brothers were but I had other pursuits which caught my interest and swordplay was not one of them. What makes me formidable now is the sheer size of this cursed body.” With a wry twist of his mouth Tobirama gestured down the front of him with one massive arm and Madara paused to consider that.

“I guess if you didn’t have arms the size of my calves you wouldn’t pack so much of a punch, yeah. You’d probably still grind me in to the dirt.”

Coming forward to help him stand and leading them both towards the armory, Tobirama hummed. “Would that I could pit you against Hashirama instead. You may not see it but I do: your stamina has already improved by leaps and bounds, your movements are stronger. Already you may have surpassed my abilities.” Oddly enough he even looked proud to say so rather than the clenched jaw of forcing out an unwanted admission as Madara would have expected from anyone else he’d ever known.

He kept his silence as they made their way inside the armory to finish cleaning their weapons and put them away. Proper storage and care of one’s things was something Tobirama was rather vehement about, though Madara happened to feel the same so it wasn’t exactly a lesson hard learned. As much as he usually enjoyed the few moments when it was not considered weird to lavish tender affection on an inanimate object, though, his thoughts drifted to other concerns as he went through the motions today entirely on autopilot. Neither of them spoke until the gunbai and sword were both hung back in their proper places and Tobirama was already turning for the door when Madara's voice called him back.

“Sometimes,” he began slowly, “you have a good day and the way you talk is almost hopeful. But then other days you talk like you expect to live forever stuck in time the way you are.” Unsurprisingly Tobirama’s expression immediately turned somber.

“It is not being outside of time’s flow that bothers me but–”

“Yeah, I know, the body. But the body isn’t yours. You just acknowledged that yourself.”

“Perhaps. But it is the form I deserve.” One of Tobirama’s hands slid down to press against where the fur covering his legs rose up over his hips as well.

Madara turned a little more towards him and very carefully did not fold his arms in an effort to avoid confrontational body language. “No it isn’t. No matter what mistakes you think you’ve made – and we all know you made none – that doesn’t make you a beast or an animal or anything. If anything that probably makes you more human than ever.”

“How, precisely?” Tobirama asked incredulously.

“It’s in the nature of humans to make mistakes.” Madara shrugged. “It’s what we do. We’re imperfect and we try our best but it’s just…it’s human to fail.”

He wasn’t really surprised to see Tobirama look away from him uncomfortably. If he ever did get all of these idiots back in to their human selves the first thing he was going to do was smack Hashirama upside the head for never saying half the things this man so clearly needed to hear. None of these thoughts should have been allowed to take hold of him. If Madara had been around back then he would have been kicking in doors to give Tobirama a piece of his mind, telling him all the things he needed to hear no matter how badly he didn’t want to hear them.

A blind man could tell that his words had already made the other uncomfortable but Madara was merciless. Better late than never.

“I won’t bother dragging the whole argument out of the closet, you already know my opinions on what happened and your lack of blame for it all, but I just…do you really see yourself as not human anymore just for that? Even after all this time?”

“Would any human do to another what I did?” Tobirama asked quietly.

“Yes! Lots of them! Literally any one of us would kill one person to save the lives of a hundred others, especially if that one person was already dying and happy to have their suffering end.” And oh how those poor people had probably been grateful to have their suffering end.

Tobirama looked away. “It was not one person but hundreds,” he insisted. “That is different.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

Madara almost reveled in the frustration he could see behind his friend’s eyes. That was good. Frustration was another human emotion and the harder Tobirama fought to prove his point the more opportunities Madara would have to show him how he was wrong. And he had always loved proving people wrong.

“You were born a human,” he went on mercilessly. “You learned as a human, you grew as a human, and from that ripped up portrait I caught a glance of you looked pretty damn human to me. But if you’re so damn determined to be a monster then answer me one question. How does that make you any different?”

“I…I do not follow…”

“Does the form of a monster determine its insides? Can you tell from looking at a man whether he teaches children or murders them in their beds? No. So just because what you might call a monster has some kind of twisted body or ugly outsides that doesn’t mean the insides are ugly too. You don’t know! Maybe the monster under your bed just really needs a hug or something!”

Barely remembering he was trying to keep his body language open, Madara propped both fists on his hips and nodded in approval of his own points, silently enjoying the flabbergasted way Tobirama was staring at him. It wasn’t often he got to flap the unflappable king of cool. Or so he sometimes referred to Tobirama in his head. Whether it was the era he’d been brought up in or just his natural composure the other had a tendency to remain calm and utterly in control of himself at all times – or until Madara said something that hit one of his weak points.

It felt like a good sign that it took a couple of minutes for Tobirama to compose himself enough to speak again. Clearly if he wasn’t speaking he was thinking because this was a man whose brain simply never shut off but as long as he was giving consideration to the right thoughts Madara decided he didn’t mind the wait.

“You are…unlike any other I have ever met,” was the final conclusion.

“Eh? I guess you haven’t met a lot of decent people in your life.” Madara paused thoughtfully. “Or maybe you just haven’t met enough assholes, Izuna tells me I’m an asshole all the time.”

A look of fondness flashed across Tobirama’s face. “Your insistence upon seeing me as more than I am is both flattering and delusional yet I cannot seem to bring myself to request that you stop. It is more than I feel I deserve and…I appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah well your definition of what you deserve is wildly skewed.”

“Perhaps because I prefer to dwell on more pleasant things. Such as yourself.” Tobirama smiled in an oddly hesitant way but Madara only smiled back without questioning it, snorting a little with amusement.

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me pleasant,” he admitted.

“A travesty. You should be appreciated more often.”

Eyeing his companion a little sideways, Madara hummed. “If you are trying to sweet-talk me in to a change of topic it won’t work. I’m still determined to show you how very humanly stupid you are being. Although I’ve got to admit that a little flattery never hurts anything, you could stand to say a few more nice things to me.”

“My good friend, I could spend the rest of this day listing your better qualities without ever repeating myself.”

“Damn.” Removing one hand from his hip to scratch at the back of his head, Madara laughed. “You must plan to talk really, really slow then. I don’t have all that many good qualities.” It was all he could do not to leap in to the air and pump both fists with joy. Tobirama had called him a good friend. Considering him a good friend meant the other was forming new attachments and doing that meant that he was not so disconnected from his humanity as he thought. Madara couldn’t wait for the appropriate moment to turn around and shove that big step forward in the other’s face.

Underneath the calm mask of Tobirama’s twisted features Madara thought he saw a moment frustration but it was gone in the next instant so he dismissed it. He did have to admit that his responses probably sounded a little flippant and Izuna had always told him how annoying it was when he gave off an impression of not being invested in the conversation. If that was it he did feel a little bad. He was very invested. Other than Izuna’s health there was nothing more important in his life these days than helping Tobirama learn to see himself as human once again and not just because doing so would return to him his own freedom.

No, he wanted Tobirama to remember his own humanity because they were indeed friends now and he wanted his friend to remember, above all else, the feeling of happiness. His own brand of freedom. What could ever be more important than that?

“Well,” he broke the silence, ready to let the subject drop for now. “If you want to say more nice things to me then maybe we should go inside where it’s warm so I can feel my toes again.”

“Ah, my apologies. I sometimes forget about…”

“Feet?”

“Yes,” Tobirama agreed with shame coloring his tone. That simply wouldn’t do.

Madara headed for the door and tossed over his shoulder with a smile, “I think that’s one of the things where you got the better end of this deal. Do you know how much I would love to just never stub my toe again or never worry about cold feet when I go to bed?”

“How is it that you always manage to put a positive spin on everything?” Tobirama asked as they stepped out in to the snow. “You have more talent for it than even Hashirama.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll take it as a challenge.”

Another triumph in his favor, Tobirama cracked a smile. “If you wish to avoid his enthusiasm then perhaps you would consent to spending more time in my company. My days are always brightened by your presence. It would please me greatly to know more of you.”

“Not a bad idea,” Madara admitted.

“You approve?”

“Definitely. I mean, we already agreed that we should get to know each other and now we have; now we’re friends. It makes sense for us to spend time together.” Madara sent his companion a conspiratorial grin. “And if it gives me an excuse not to listen to Hashirama compose poetry for his wife then all the better.”

Once again a flash of frustration appeared on Tobirama’s face that he didn’t understand but Madara let this one go unmentioned as well. Questioning Tobirama’s unexplained miniature temper tantrums was probably just as dangerous as asking Hashirama why he was in such a good mood on any given day. Although he was willing to bet that Tobirama would not respond by launching himself in to lengthy poetic speeches that he would then have to tune out, for which Madara was grateful. Just imagining it was terrifying.

Trudging back through the snow was terrible when Madara's legs felt as though they might turn to jelly at any moment but it was made less terrible by Tobirama kindly walking ahead of him and widening the path they had made to come out here earlier. For all the conveniences of having the world reset every day this was one inconvenience he could have done without; it would have been nice to shovel himself a nice path to use but what was the point if it would only disappear? Wasted effort. And Madara wasn’t about to tire himself out for nothing when he already got all the exercise he needed during their sparring sessions.

After detouring towards the stables for Madara to be sure his old mare had enough hay and water they made it inside the castle and paused for him to peel off all the extra layers now soaked through with sweat and snow. Learning how to wield a gunbai involved an unsurprising amount of getting knocked on the ground. Hashirama found them as Madara was contemplating taking his shirt off as well and walking through the halls bare chested until he could go bathe.

Strangely, Hashirama did not have a cheerful greeting for them. Or any greeting at all.

“Have either of you encountered Mito recently?” he asked the moment he saw them. Both shook their heads and Tobirama reminded him that they had been outside for the last couple of hours as they usually were this time of day. “If you see her would you be so kind as to let her know I am looking for her?”

“Of course, brother,” Tobirama replied.

With that Hashirama was gone again, hopping off down the hallways at speeds that threatened to send him tripping over his own metal base. Madara tilted his head to one side.

“That’s weird.”

“I agree. He is not normally quite so abrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, that too. I just meant it’s weird because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mito outside of the kitchens unless she’s with Hashirama.”

Tobirama looked down at him with brows furrowed in thought. “She was no great lady before she married my brother. I believe the kitchens give her comfort because she was raised there, a simple cook until she caught the crown prince’s eye.”

“Damn. I didn’t know that.”

“She would likely not wish for you to know.” His friend glanced at him sideways with a conspiratorial smile and Madara laughed. Without being told he never would have guessed that Mito had been raised as anything other than a proper lady in the royal courts. She certainly had acclimated well to such a massive promotion if her usual cool demeanor was anything to go by.

The anomaly was an easy one to put out of their minds, the two of them resuming the paths they had intended to take now that their training was done for the day. Tobirama walked with him until they reached the hallways that led towards the royal apartments. As they spent more and more time together Madara was slowly learning more and more things they agreed upon and one of those things was the necessity of bathing after such strenuous activity. Not many things struck him as more disgusting than the idea of going about the rest of his day reeking of sour armpits. He’d gotten enough of that stench from the patrons who frequented the tavern perhaps a little too frequently and he had less than zero desire to be like those animals in any sort of way.

Izuna sat comfortably ensconced in the window seat when Madara entered the room, nose buried in a book and sock-covered feet tucked under his thighs where they were curled with anticipation. He always had loved a good adventure story. For a moment Madara couldn’t help but stop and stare, admiring the flush of color where there had once been tired and waxy skin, the shine coming back to long dark hair. His brother looked healthier now than he had in years and he continued to improve with every day that passed. It was amazing what access to actual medicine would do after years of being sold a shitty half-potent brew to keep him coming back as a repeat customer. If Madara ever saw that witch doctor again the idiot was going to come away from the encounter without all his vital body parts intact. That was a guarantee.

“Bath?” his brother asked distantly without looking up. It was incredibly annoying that he found it easy deciphering the twirling flowery script Madara could not, able to enjoy whatever book he wanted to from the library.

“Please tell me the water’s still hot,” he pleaded.

“Mn. Should be. I haven’t bothered to check.”

Madara grunted and stumped on through to the water closet. Even in the current times it was a rarity to find homes outside of the big towns that were built with indoor plumbing. The fact that this castle had such luxuries available was well worth the fact that to heat the water for his bath still required a small fire under the tub. It was better than hauling water in from the well as he’d had to do all his life. The tub was even make of copper with four clawed feet holding it up above the ground, much more comfortable than the squat wooden barrel Madara was used to crawling in to.  

To his absolute delight the small fire he stoked up before going outside had gone out not too long before, leaving his water a delicious burning temperature he was able to enjoy by submerging a towel before his body so he wouldn’t have to sit directly on the heated copper bottom. Sinking down in to the water was bliss upon his tired muscles and Madara was glad no one but Izuna was close enough to hear the shameful drawn out moan that echoed around the room in appreciation. There really was nothing like a good hot soak after a hard day’s work. And considering that his life had been fairly soft compared to others he felt he was only just beginning to appreciate things like this now after signing on to turn his muscles in to jelly six out of seven days a week.

Although he couldn’t say that he minded. In an odd way the soreness of his muscles felt good, felt like tangible proof of the progress he was making both in his own skill and in convincing Tobirama to see himself as human. The more time they spent together the more his friend seemed to be opening up and revealing new facets of his true self. For him to ask that they spend even more time together must be a breakthrough. Madara grinned smugly, sinking down to hide his expression under the surface of the water, and mentally gave himself a nice pat on the back. Obviously he was such a good friend that Tobirama wanted them to get even closer!

His intention was to soak just long enough that he could lift his arms without feeling like he wanted to scream but by the time he pulled himself out the water had gone cold and the shadows in the room were stretching out much longer than they should have been. Apparently time had slipped him by as he relaxed.

No longer half as sore as he had been, Madara was almost tempted to hum pleasantly as he dried himself off and dressed again in the clothes he’d left in the bathroom earlier, checking first to make sure Izuna hadn’t caught any mice to leave in his clothing again. It was wonderful to see his brother regain some energy but he could have done without the resurgence of the pranks they used to pull on each other when they were young. Once he was successfully covering in mice-free clothing Madara wrestling a brush through his hair until he was able to separate three portions to braid together. The gilded mirror hanging over the sink told him that he’d done a decent enough job, nothing fancy but better than the raggedy drowned look he usually sported walking around with wet hair.

On his way back through the bedroom he double checked the position of the sun through their window and wrinkled his nose. He might be a little late for dinner. Mito hated it when he was late. Hopefully she didn’t overcook anything in retaliation as she so often threatened to do to Tobirama when the man got too lost in his head to remember food.

“Coming?” he called, pausing at the door. Izuna’s face lifted from the book he’d been reading with a glassy eyed look which said he also hadn’t realized the time.

“Five more minutes?”

“And get yelled at by the lady of the house? Not a chance. If you’re not coming now then I’ll bring you up a plate later.”

He watched Izuna wrestle with indecision before finally sighing and setting the book aside, unfolding his legs to stand then pausing to stretch. By the time he finally made it over to the door Madara was tapping one foot impatiently.

“On your own time,” he insisted with heavy tones of sarcasm. Izuna stuck out his tongue.

Together they wandered through the hallways towards the lower floors where Mito should be whipping up her latest delicacy, Izuna patiently listening to his big brother recounting an afternoon of training that probably sounded pretty identical to al his other stories about training. When he could get a word in edgewise he immediately derailed the conversation to talk about the rich fantasy world he’d been reading about and that was just as interesting so Madara decided against scolding him for being so rude. It was always a pleasure to see him so invested, so vibrant.

Instead of the usually cheery voice hailing them as soon as they walked in to the room, however, both of the Uchiha brothers were surprised to find the kitchens empty but for little Kagami dangling from an oven handle and struggling valiantly to open the massive door with his tiny wooden weight. Madara leapt across the room to rescue him, setting the toy soldier on the countertop instead with his heart racing in his chest.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Do you know what the ovens could do to you? What if you caught fire!”

“I did not want for you to go hungry, I was only trying to cook dinner!” Kagami scuffed one foot in to the counter while Madara and Izuna traded looks of confusion.

“Mito cooks,” Izuna pointed out.

“Exactly. Which begs the question again, what do you think you’re doing?” Crossing his arms, Madara lifted one eyebrow in his best impression of a disappointed Tobirama. Nothing got this boy talking than the idea that he had somehow disappointed his idol.

Just as predicted, Kagami pouted. Then he defied expectations by perking up and shaking his head with some measure of authority. “Mito-hime is not here. Hashirama-sama went to find her; he sounded very worried that she was not preparing so I thought to cheer everyone up by doing so myself! Then Hashirama-sama would not have to worry and you would not have to go on with empty bellies!”

For a few moments the two of them stared down at the boy in search of any hints that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. It was a futile effort, though. Kagami was almost more honest than Hashirama and he had no reason to lie to them. Eventually Madara scooped him back up and carefully transferred his small body away from the work station, depositing him in Izuna’s outstretched hands with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He really was glad they had taken such a shine to each other.

“You forget that we’ve lived alone for years; I can cook for myself just fine. It might not be quite up to the standards Tobirama is used to eating but I’m sure he’ll manage to choke it down.”

“It is weird that Mito’s not here with dinner waiting though,” Izuna chipped in, already seating himself on a nearby stool.

Madara hummed with his head shoved inside the closest pantry door. “I agree, it’s not like her. Hashirama will find her though. She’s probably just off distracted with a book or something like you were before I dragged you down. Everything’s fine.”

He didn’t need to look to feel the weight of Izuna’s eyes on him, to read the silence for what it was. Kagami happily began to chatter about something inconsequential and they let him. That was, after all, the point of pretending that everything was normal. Neither of them wanted to upset the poor boy until they knew for sure that anything was amiss.

But his brother had hit the nail on the head. It was very strange for Mito not to be here in the kitchen with dinner ready, stranger still that she would pass up on an opportunity to scold them for deviating from the schedule she had set for their meals. Whether because of her modest upbringing or a need to prove herself worthy in her new station Mito was a woman who thrived on order, everything where it was supposed to be and always at the right time. It might have been possible that she really had simply fallen victim to distraction as he suggested and that she might come flying in to the kitchen with tight-lipped apologies to scold him for using the wrong frying pan.

Or – Madara's fingers tightened around the onion he held between his palms – it was possible that his gut was right and something was very wrong. They wouldn’t know until Hashirama found his wife.

[slasherkisss]

Cabin Fever - Jason Voorhees x Reader [Chapter 1]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept...and to love. 

A/N My first chapter of a Jason story that’s been weighing heavily on my mind as of late. Also a sort of ‘writing christening’ to this new blog! I’ll hopefully be updating this as I go/in between asks. I hope you all enjoy it! This first chapter is mostly exposition, but, set up is necessary for stories at times don’t you think?

You had visited the cabin up at Crystal Lake with your father every winter for as long as you could remember. Despite it belonging to his employer up until the most recent months, it felt like home. The smell of moss and freshly chopped wood made your senses more at ease than the scent of smog and churning machinery. Most of your days were spent tending to the cabin’s upkeep as well as the maintenance of the garden in its backyard. You feel selfish and, perhaps, a bit egotistical in admitting that you had always known that it would find its way into your possession one way or another.

You feel less remorseful than you should, though, in knowing that it took two deaths for you to be able to receive it.

The first was the original owner of the cabin. Your father’s boss had always been a man of delicate emotional standing. After his wife had fallen ill and decided it better to take control of her own life by driving her car off of a cliff, he had tried his hardest to move on and continue with the job turned duty of living to carry on her memory. It was your father who had originally suspected that the man would not last longer than a year. Grimly, you could only agree with him and wait. When both of you were proven right, you were surprised again to see that the cabin had been left to your father in the other man’s will, calling him a brother amongst employees and thanking him for his support in trying times. That had been the first and only time you had seen your father cry. Tears of emotion like runs of rain etched in canvas lining down his face. The sight had made you cry too.

When your father died you had also expected this, but, that did not make it any less heart wrenching. The blood cancer that had plagued him for the later years of his life caught up to him in one fell swoop, sending him to a hospital where he died not days later. You couldn’t remember crying as hard as you did in the hospital room that night when the doctor’s pronounced him officially dead. You still had his obituary report tucked away in the pages of a sketchbook, taped against a canvas of nightmare doodles and eldritch terrors. The knowledge of his death was painful. You had felt your heart rip in two pieces that night, but, it was also eye opening. To therapists, perhaps, it was eye-opening in the worst kind of ways but you had no interest in sharing your emotions with anyone regardless of if your family thought it was a good idea or not.

Life was limited. You would die and, should you dare love anyone as much as you loved your father, they would die too.

You had no choice but to live with your mother and stepfather after the passing of your father, too poor to afford rent or fuel to drive anywhere too far away, you found yourself trapped in a house that only served to further your isolation into yourself. Though your mother tried to encourage you to go out and see friends, perhaps even a therapist, you never did so. Your stepfather encouraged natural medications and herbs, pumping your body with teas and vitamins he imported from one part of the country or another, but you always hid them away instead of taking them like he told you to.

Fights were more common than not. They would argue you with you, plead with you, to pull your head from the clouds.  Your warped ideas of life and death ate away at you like a parasite, disconnecting you from reality. It shone in your job as you talked to customers in a monotone voice and shared no smiles or bouts of stories and laughter as you did when you first started. Your managers called you into the office and gave you multiple warnings, letting it go at first as grief for losing such a close family member so suddenly. Whatever friends you had before the funeral were gone now, pushed to the side in the window of unread messages and missed calls. You had disconnected your phone completely at some point, though, you couldn’t quite remember just when.

There was that too. The fogginess of your memory as every day was spent in a stupor of disconnected, warped, and malfunctioning reality. The world was never the right shade of blues or blacks. Ceiling fans swung too fast. You were afraid they would fly off the hinges and decapitate you. Food became unnatural poison that you never trusted unless you bought the ingredients and cooked it for yourself. Your stepfather’s insistences to take the vitamins he offered you became threats of poison if you did not stay in your room though the words he mouthed and the words in your head never seemed to quite match up. The world of the city you lived in became too fast-paced. Too overwhelming. The noise of airplanes flying overhead or cars in the nearby freeway zooming by gave you anxiety. Your heart ached at the mere idea of stepping food out into a world where there was nothing but noise.

It was when you were searching through old pictures of you and your father that you remembered the cabin. You remembered your technical ownership of it now and, with a joyous leap of hope in your heart, you remembered the quiet and self sustaining style that you and your father lived in every winter.

Saving up for the trip from your bustling city home was manageable enough, but, it was the leaving that was the hardest part. Suitcases in the car and last bag wrapped firmly in your whitening knuckles, you could still register the screaming sobs of your mother as you left the home you all shared.

“Running from your life won’t help you, [Y/N]!”

“You’re only going to get worse if you keep this up!”

“Please come back inside, you’re scaring me!”

“[Y/N]!”

You left without heading her warnings, rage bubbling inside of you of her view of the situation. She saw it as running away from your problems. Fleeing your life to hide like a sick dog and lick your wounds until death. You saw nothing of the sort. This trip, this move, wasn’t an escape attempt. It was a chance to start over. To live far away from where things happened and return to a world where you were happier, where memories were yet to be made, and where you could control your own life and the things you truly wanted.

It was a reset period. A well needed one. A chance to travel back into the memories you had built with your father, to properly mourn him through reconnecting in the one place you felt alive. To be safe in a world where you were in control for once and not the outside forces of cities and parents who did not understand why you were how you were. Once you mourned, then, you would have a world where no one would know or remember you. You could be the you that you wanted to be in a place where no one had any previous knowledge of your behavior.

It was perfect.

A heavy thunk echoed, breaking you from the silent flashback you had momentarily experienced. You turned around, cradling the last box of items you had within the moving van that had brought you out there. The man who had driven the van and helped you unload several of your things into the house before you was staring back at you with a frown bristling against his lips. You chose to ignore it, however, and offer him a smile in return despite the uneasiness he caused within you. “Thank you for the help with the heavier things,” You murmured as politely as you could, “Would you like to come in for a drink before you head out? It’ll be cold out there soon and I’m sure I know which box my kettle is in.”

The joke you attempted did not make him laugh. Instead you watched as he stepped backwards towards his truck, head shaking as he declined your offer.

“No ma’am,” His voice was low as he dared gaze around the rest of the woods warningly, “I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know. A young woman like yourself really shouldn’t be left alone in them...Who knows what could lurk around here.”

You could only laugh, the voice he was using a clear warning. A gentle plead to get you to return to the safety of civilization. A foolish sort of mantra from a tongue that didn’t understand the ways of the forest and, thus, fell on the deaf ears of a woman intent on proving a point. Your fingers gripped tighter on the box, shifting it in your hands to keep the steady hold as your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, skewing his personage horizontally by only the slightest of degrees.

“I’m sure whatever is out here,” You responded with a sharp shutdown of his request, “I can handle it just fine on my own.”

“Well,” He chuckled after a few moments of silence, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, miss.”

“Have a safe drive.”

With those last four words you turned sharply on the heels of your feet, bangs brushing against your forehead while you moved forward. You refused to look back as the sound of the truck roaring to life echoed against your spine. As you felt the rumble in the soil to when it left, dissipating from the area and leaving you, again, in the familiar silence of the autumn woods. You took in a deep breath, smelling the moss and decay that had just begun to overcome the wet lakeside soil.

It smelled like a fresh start.

You hurried inside as the wind picked up, placing the final box in your living room and beginning to unpack the necessities for the night. Luckily, your father’s friend had left it furnished upon his death. The only things you had to bring were small. Utensils and electronics for the kitchen. A few pictures and decorations you could not part without. You had left your television and computer behind, disinterested in keeping in contact with those from your past life. Instead you substitute the boxes they would have taken up with books. Piles of books that would garner their own line of bookshelves both downstairs in the living room and up in your bedside dresser. You would wait to unpack them, just as you would have to wait until spring to purchase any sort of gardening implements and seeds for the backyard. There was a silent thanks that echoed in your mind to the past you for remembering to stock up on canned goods and non perishable foodstuffs, as they seemed to be what you were going to mark your survival upon for the next several months.

The unpacking went on well into the beginning of the sunset, oranges bathing the entirety of the cabin through the thin glass windows as signal for you to cease in your movements. Your own humming and gentle melodies had given you comfort as you unpacked your belongings. As you finally decided to stop for the night, pleased with the progress you had made on the living room decorations, you decided a quick dinner would be a good way to celebrate your move into the home. You placed your tea kettle on the stovetop after filling it up with the sink at its side, preparing a single mug with a fished out bag of your favorite decaffeinated chai tea placed within it to serve yourself after the water had warmed.

While waiting, you stopped out onto the porch of your home, gazing out into the vast wilderness around you. From here the world was peaceful, your heart finding pace with the twittering of the birds as they faded to give rise to the cicadas of the evening. A wind bristled at the porch, blowing past you and causing you to shiver as you watched it take a few reddened leaves with it from the ground. A mental note was made somewhere in your peripheral to rake when you could. Clearing the ground now and keeping it clear would make it easier to plant things in the spring as you wanted.

A motion in the forest caught your eye.

It was a brief shift in the trees. A single change of scenery that had your head snapping upwards and staring out into the distance, eyes as wide as a does as you observed the endless surroundings of brown and orange. Paranoia held itself tight against your stomach as it always did when you had seen something from the corners of your eye. It was not the first time something had flitted there aimlessly nor would it be the last. Your mind conjured up the thoughts of the truck driver who had taken you to the isolated cabin and helped to unpack your stuff. Of the tales he had told you while riding with him and the warning he had uttered before leaving you to your own devices.

I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know.

Another shift and you stared further, squinting to try and see just what was constantly bothering your eyes.

As your mind meandered to the remembrance of the tale of Jason Voorhees, who had drowned years ago in the lake so close to your own backyard, you could have sworn that you saw a figure hiding amongst the trees. He was tall, but small compared to the towering pines around you. The cedars reached to the setting sun as you watched the possible intruder, his face hidden behind a single hockey mask as your eyes met. Or, you could only assume that your eyes had met. He felt...unreal. An apparition amongst branches. Something your mind conjured up in its spare time while you were alone. Your heartbeat in your chest was deafening as you  continued to stare outwards, mouth suddenly dry at the possibility of confrontation but curious to where it would lead.

The sound of your tea kettle whistling, high pitched and shrill throughout the household, snapped you from your reverie. Your head tilted back to examine the noise, acknowledging it for a moment before turning your head back to the front of the house. But, if there ever was a figure in the first place, it was gone now. The spot you had held eye contact with for so long as empty now, leaving only you and the trees alone together.

Anxiety faded to unsureness and you shook your head, dismissing it only briefly before returning to your home and shutting the kettle off in the kitchen. It was only a momentary trick of the eye, you convinced yourself over and over again with a mantra that soon fell from between your lips audibly rather than just in your head. No matter the repetition, however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more than just your mind, plaguing you with paranoia. It was something more, just as this forest was something more.

You sipped your tea and took a breath. Whatever it was, you were sure, that the forest would reveal it to you when it trusted you enough. Until then, you were content to wait.

[doodlelolly0910]

Love Don’t Cost a Thing

Summary:  Emma thought she was living her happily ever after until she wasn't. Now Neal is living his with someone else and Emma has a plus one option to the wedding from hell but no one to fill the space. Enter Killian Jones, devastatingly handsome male escort and the answer to Emma's problems. She hires him for the wedding because he's the safe choice. The temporary choice. Falling in love wasn't on the invoice.

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: Hello! I come bearing new fic! So this was supposed to be a oneshot. I wrote it as a oneshot. The fic clearly had other ideas and it is now an MC lol. So here we are! Super huge ginormous thank you to @superchocovian​ who was just a the most fantastic beta and a wonderfully patient person. She thought she was signing up to beta a oneshot and she got me instead haha. And another super huge thank you to my wondertwin @artistic-writer​ who has made the most AMAZING picset for this fic that I could have ever wanted. It is seriously fantastic and I nearly squealed her ear off about it. I honestly love it so so so much. And she was an awesome second set of eyes on this project and frequent calmer of my anxieties and just an overall wonderful, lovely person. Thank you in advance for reading this fic! I hope you love it as much as I do. It's been my pet project for quite a while now and I'm so excited to share it with y'all. Watch for updates every Friday, and you can yell at me on here if you want. Away we go!

Chapter 1

Ten months.

Ten measly fucking months is all it took for Neal Cassidy to send out wedding invitations after he tossed Emma aside like yesterday's newspaper. Of course it wasn't too much of an asshole move to send an invitation to the mother of your child when you'd found a new love, especially if said child was going to be in the wedding. Was it? Her fury at the envelope grew as she decided yes it was an asshole move and she took another generous drink from the glass in front of her.

It still stung, even three months later, as she sat drowning herself in her sorrows at the bar on what would have been their ten year anniversary. To add insult to injury, the one he'd sent to her was addressed to Miss Emma Swan and Guest, written on the front in elegant gold script. She scoffed and tossed back her drink, fingering the edge of the envelope absent mindedly.

Miss Emma Swan and Guest.

Neal knew. He fucking knew she didn't have anybody. He knew how hard it was for her to let people in. He sent her the invitation just to rub it in her face. Just another message that she'd never find happiness. She conjured an image of his smug smile in her mind's eye and felt the sudden urge to find him and slap it off his face. She signalled to the bartender for another drink instead of doing something stupid, like driving to New York City from the Boston hotel bar she sat in and punching her ex. Repeatedly. She sipped slowly this time at the vodka cranberry in her hand, newly delivered by the petite blonde behind the counter. In reality, she wanted to be slamming back shots of whiskey, but self preservation told her that advertising her heartbreak in such a way would be ill advised. So she sipped and turned the envelope over in her unoccupied hand again and again, looking at its broken seal and debating whether or not to open it again for what felt like the millionth time since she'd gotten it those short few months ago. She couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe he would have the solid fucking steel balls he must have upgraded to since he left her to send her this after all they'd been through. She had been with him for nine years, since she was seventeen and naïve, a runaway foster kid with no family, no friends, and no place to go, all the while planning their future together as she thought he had been. They'd met when she tried to steal a car that he'd already stolen, and they kept up the Bonnie and Clyde act to survive. It stung the first time she had asked why he hadn't proposed and he told her neither of them were ready for that. They'd only been together a year and they were still having fun. At least she wasn't alone. So Emma carried on, and didn't ask questions. They were happy. Not long after that, she'd gotten pregnant. Neal had wanted her to get an abortion, but Emma couldn't do it. She was eighteen, he was twenty four, and she followed his lead in most things, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that. They'd settled on adoption. They got real jobs, a real apartment, and everything was okay for awhile. But once Emma heard the strong cries as her son was freed from her womb and she laid eyes on him for the first time, she couldn't give him up either. She and Neal had fought about it. He'd even left for three whole weeks when she wouldn't relent. But he came back, saying he didn't want to be like his father and walk out on his son. Emma quashed the urge to remind him he'd already done that and welcomed him back with open arms. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents; she didn't want the same for her child. He still didn't want to marry her, citing the need to work on their relationship and being parents. She accepted that. At least she wasn't alone. The next few years seemed to fly by as Emma threw herself into her little family. Henry wanted for nothing, and Neal even ended up being a really good dad. But they fought a lot. Bills piled up and Emma worked two jobs while Neal struggled to hold down one most of the time. He would work whenever a job offer came to him, but he never really looked for one. And they never seemed to last long. Emma made enough as an office clerk for a private investigator by day and a waitress by night to keep them afloat. Around that time, Robert Gold, Neal’s estranged father, had come back into Neal's life and wanted a relationship with him and his grandson. Neal rejected his requests, and Emma always tried to support him, whichever way he wanted to go with it. Emma asked one night that had been mostly calm and normal if he wanted to get married. He dismissed the idea easily, telling her he wanted to be more stable in a career, that way they could afford the ring and wedding they deserved.  Emma told him it didn't matter to her, but dropped the subject. They could wait to get married. At least she wasn't alone. In the end, one of Neal's biggest complaints was that she never had time for him (or Henry, as he had callously tossed in her face a time or two during some of their more heated spats) and he needed more from a relationship. Ironically, he started seeing his father regularly and looking for work more frequently around this time as well, stretching his own time at home thin. Nonetheless, she tried harder, losing contact with her friends and even her foster brother David, that she'd reconnected with when Henry was born, in favor of making more time for her boyfriend and son. It never seemed to be enough. Tamara Herr had time for Neal though. The caramel skinned beauty lived right across the street from their apartment building and was decidedly everything Emma was not. So, when Emma caught them together in their bed after coming home early one day to celebrate her promotion, all she could do was laugh as her heart simultaneously closed up tight and shattered into a thousand pieces. And now they were getting married. Neal got the girl of his dreams that it was clear Emma wasn't and a relationship with his father that came with his very own trust fund. And she was alone. "Bad night?" Emma jumped at the sound of a British baritone voice coming suddenly from behind her. Her face pinched in a scowl and she turned to make sure whoever this interloper was knew she wasn't in the mood for company. She looked up as a tall, well built frame placed itself in the seat next to her. Emma was almost shocked off her stool when her gaze meet his. She wasn't expecting someone so... well, gorgeous, if she was being honest. Dark chocolate hair fell just over his forehead, dusting his quirked brows. Bright ocean blue eyes watched her with mild amusement, studying her as she was him. His pink, plush lips were framed by dark, neatly trimmed facial hair that was interspersed with auburn whiskers here and there that she almost would have missed if the light hadn't caught it just right. There was a single onyx stone in his right ear that matched his cufflinks on the lighter gray dress shirt that he wore under a steel grey suit. The shirt had several buttons undone, exposing his chest and the thick smattering of umber hair across it. Realizing she'd probably been staring too long, she reset her mouth into a hard line and tilted her head back away from him. "It has been a pretty shitty night. That's usually how one finds themselves drinking at a bar near eleven o'clock alone," she replied stiffly, hoping her tone and words would prevent him from pursuing whatever this interaction was between them. It seemed, though, that the man only took it as an invitation. "I could tell. If you stared at that envelope any harder, it may burst into flames, love," he said with a chuckle. Emma's scowl deepened. "Not your love," she huffed. "Not anyone's love," she added before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed at the admission and she hid her face in her drink, letting her golden hair fall in front of it as she dipped her head down.Maybe she’d had enough to drink. To her surprise, the man reached out and tucked a good portion of her tresses behind her ear so he could look at her face. He continued to amaze her when she saw no pity in his expression, just a glimmer of understanding. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting to love someone as beautiful as you," he murmured. Emma wrinkled her nose at the over the top declaration and he cracked a grin in response. "Too much?" "That was epically cheesy. Does that line really work on anyone?" She took another sip from her glass and felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. "It wasn't a line at all, love. But I have plenty of those as well, if you'd like to hear." He nodded towards her, almost begging her to pick up the gauntlet he'd thrown. She remained silent, not wanting to further encourage this conversation, but feeling strangely uplifted by his presence. So he continued on. "Here, how much would you say a polar bear weighs?" Emma gave him a funny look, contemplating where he might be going with this. "I'm not sure, like a thousand, two thousand pounds?" she guessed. He looked positively gleeful that she'd played along. "So you might say then... enough to break the ice? Killian Jones, at your service." He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. Emma rolled her eyes and groaned, drawing her hand back but still feeling the sear of his lips just below her knuckles. "I can't believe I just walked right into that one." She shook her head with a laugh.

“It's a gift of mine, leading women places they don't expect to go,” he said, his voice low and sultry, and oh, man, he was definitely flirting with her. “Would you like to go somewhere else unexpected?” He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, his darkened gaze holding hers.

"Sorry, pal. You just aren't my type," she lied, her breath catching in her chest as she flitted her eyes back to the bar and her drink. Truth was, she was far more attracted to him than she'd been to... well, anyone really. More attracted to him than she had been to Neal, that was for sure. "Darling, for the right price, I'm anyone's type," he replied, his words hanging heavily in the air between them. Emma's eyes widened at the implication, snapping back to his face, and Killian's own blue orbs smoldered into her gaze, waiting for her reaction. They stared at one another in silent challenge, willing the other to expand on the proverbial elephant that now sat quite noticeably in the room. Curiosity won out and Emma licked her lips before responding, flushing slightly when the handsome man tracked the movement with his eyes. "Are you telling me you're a hooker?" She hissed under her breath, darting her eyes around the room as if someone might be listening, and Killian grinned at her. "Please, love. 'Hooker' sounds so crass. Not to mention, illegal." His grin grew larger as she sighed in frustration. "Well isn't this just my damn luck. Sitting alone, wallowing over my ex-boyfriend's happiness wasn't enough, I suppose. Now the one guy who even talks to me is only here to make a quick buck." She scoffed and shoved the envelope violently into her clutch purse before digging out some cash to leave for her drinks. His careful eyes watched her flustered movements before he reached out to loosely grip her wrist. She froze, unsure of whether or not she should pull away. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the small flower tattoo nestled at the base of her palm, prompting her to look up at him again. She did, ignoring the electric sparks shooting up her arm at the contact. "For what it's worth, love, I would have approached you whether I was on the clock or not." He brought her hand up and placed a soft kiss to the place his thumb had just been smoothing, never breaking eye contact, causing her breath to hitch again involuntarily. She cursed herself mentally for acting like a hormonal mess. "How many girls has that bullshit worked on today? Bet your bank account is padded with the results of pick up lines like that," she spat, snatching her hand back from his gentle grip and standing abruptly. She was more embarrassed than she could recall feeling in recent memory and she hated it. Hated how he'd gotten under her skin so quickly. Killian seemed to accept her retreat gracefully and smiled softly at her. He stood as well and reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling free a small black card. Boldly, he reached down and slipped it into the gap of her clutch, not even bothering to try to hand it to her, knowing she wouldn't take it. "Think what you'd like, Swan, but that was also not a line. That's the absolute truth. And should you change your mind about some company, well, you have my card." Emma stood in shock. She could feel her face reddening further. Then the bastard winked and smoothly turned, walking away to find his next companion. And that is when it hit her that he'd used her last name.

It had to be a coincidence, or she must have misheard him, because why the hell, how the hell, would he have known her name?

Emma's cheeks were still flaming as she stormed out to her car. She wasted little time in jamming her keys into the ignition, making the little yellow Volkswagen rumble to life and peel out of the parking lot in haste. How dare he. Men like Killian Jones were the absolute worst, preying on women who were vulnerable for their own gain. The thought that he'd recognized her as vulnerable made her stomach turn. She should have never let her guard down so low. She hadn't even been aware that she'd done it. How often did she have her weaknesses on display? she mused as she waited at a red stoplight. She slammed her open palm into the steering wheel. In the five minutes she spent in Jones's company, he'd managed to peel back her layers and reach her in a way that she hadn't been reached in years. If she didn't know any better, she may have even admitted that she felt a connection to Killian Jones. Damn him. It was all an act, she reminded herself. He was skilled in the art of flirtation, ready to seduce and take advantage of every sad sob story that would make him a few bucks. A loud honk from behind her jerked her from her thoughts and she realized the light was green. Putting her foot on the gas, all she was focused on was getting home. No more thoughts of handsome male hookers--or shitty exes, for that matter. Except that was all she could think about as she parked in her designated space and made her way into the apartment building. She kept a brisk pace as if she could physically outrun her train of thought. She was glad that Henry was staying with Neal this week, not expected back until the day after tomorrow. She loved her kid, but he was too damn smart for an eight year old. He would have picked up on her distressed state in no time. She didn't bother with picking up the house that night, only dropping her purse on the table in the entryway, stripping away her shoes and clothes as she made her way to the room and slipping into an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants for bed. As she slipped under the covers and settled on her pillow, the last thought that ran through her mind before sleep consumed her was of Killian Jones. The next morning was no better. She scowled at herself for waking up with Killian's blue eyes dancing through her head and decided she needed a distraction. Usually, she and Henry would spend their Saturdays in a park or a library, or the occasional museum, but he wasn't here and she didn't fancy doing any of that alone. She could call her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, or her friends Elsa or Ruby, but all three of them knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something and she was still embarrassed just enough by her run in with a male escort and her subsequent escape to decide against putting herself through the ringer. Mary Margaret would be appalled and tell everyone (she was horrible at keeping secrets), Elsa would be sympathetic to the point of pity (which she was not ready for), and Ruby would either make fun of the whole situation or try to find him herself (based on how much of a description she could get out of Emma). No thank you to all of those scenarios. She padded barefoot into her kitchen, grabbing a mug and leaning against the counter to wait for her coffee pot to finish percolating, silently thanking the heavens that she remembered to set it before she went out last night. She looked around the apartment she shared with her son and sighed. It was a good sized apartment, much better than where she'd started with Henry. Her eventual licensing as a private investigator afforded her a much better lifestyle for her and her son. One that could have included Neal. She'd actually been on her way home to share her license confirmation when she'd caught him with her. And the rest was history. The coffee pot gurgled its last drops into the pot and Emma happily made herself a cup. Maybe she should've RSVP'd that she'd be coming alone. It would've been much easier, but she was so mad to see that plus one included on her card that she'd gotten out the Jack Daniels and the whiskey checked the box for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it wasn't like she hadn't moved on from Neal; on the contrary, she had, she just hadn't moved on with someone else just yet. Sipping at her cup, her mind automatically went to her phone. She usually skimmed news headlines and went through her email with her morning coffee, but she didn't have it with her and she didn't remember seeing it on her nightstand. She let out a groan when she remembered that she'd left it in her purse. Grumbling, she pushed herself away from the counter and made her way to the entryway, picking up her purse with one hand and setting her mug down with the other. She shuffled through the contents and pulled her phone free, but as she did, a small, black square fluttered to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, frowning and trying to remember where it came from or what it was. She flipped it over to read it and her face immediately flushed, though she wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or something else. KILLIAN JONES PERSONAL ENTERTAINMENT 617-555-9870 Emma snorted. 'Personal entertainment' indeed. She didn't even know why he slipped her his card. She'd never paid for sex and she wasn't about to start. She was lonely, not desperate. She tucked the card against her phone for the moment and went back to her clutch for her charger. Her fingers bumped against the thick envelope inside as she searched and she scowled at it. And then a lightbulb went off in her head. She thought of the little nest egg she'd put aside for a rainy day as her mind began to hatch a plan. Maybe she was a little desperate. "This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid..." she muttered, grabbing her phone and heading to the couch, flicking the edge of the business card with her finger. She plugged her phone in and sat down, letting a large sigh escape her, and punched in the numbers on the card. She fiddled with the ties on her sleep pants while the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as she was about to hang up, a sultry English voice came on the line. "Hello?" Emma's throat closed up immediately and her mouth felt like she'd poured a shaker of salt into it. Her heart pounded in her chest and every word in the English language fled her frazzled mind. "Hello?" he said again and Emma jumped as she realized she should be saying something back. "Uh, hi." Smooth, Emma. "Hello, love. Can I help you?" He sounded amused and that incensed her. "Yes. No. Maybe. Dammit, this isn't how this was supposed to go," she rambled. "Look, you gave me your card last night, and I'm calling." "I gave quite a few women my card last night. Refresh my memory a bit, love." He didn't sound the least bit confused and Emma was positive he was messing with her now. She clenched her jaw. "Well, aren't you a regular Romeo." She was sure her scowl could be heard through the phone. He laughed out loud, warm and rich, the sound crackling through the phone and warming her to her toes. "Why don't we start with a name?" he prompted, mirth now flowing freely through his warm voice. She sighed. "It's Emma. Er, Swan. From the bar last night." She felt her grip tighten on her lap. He was silent for a beat and she began to rethink if he actually did know it was her before the reveal. "I was hoping it was you." His voice had dropped an octave and something twisted in her lower belly at the sound. "Yeah, well, it's me. It's kinda weird that you know my name, though. Or, y'know, that you remember me at all," she mumbled, tugging at her shirt nervously. "As if I could forget the most beautiful woman I've spoken to in recent memory," he purred and Emma wrinkled her nose at the flirtation, but he continued on. "And your name was easy enough to discern since you were waving it around on that envelope you had with you." "Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense," she said, embarrassed. An awkward silence fell over the line. "As much as I'm thrilled to hear your lovely voice, Swan, I'm assuming you didn't just call for a chat?" The amusement in his voice was back and Emma felt her blush deepen, thankful for the barrier the phone provided. "Uh, yeah. I was actually calling because, well, I'm looking to procure some of your, uh, services-" "Really, Swan?" The surprised delight in his tone made her frown. She wasn't a conquest. "Not like that. What I meant to say was I have sort of a proposition for you.” Her voice was all business and she found herself straightening her shoulders in resolve, though she knew he couldn't see her. "Color me intrigued, love. What sort of proposition?" he asked and Emma fidgeted nervously. "Can we meet to discuss it? Lunch, maybe? My treat of course, I know you're," she cleared her throat, "on the clock, or whatever." Killian chuckled low on the other end of the line. "Alright, darling, where and when?" he asked. "There's a diner near downtown, Granny's. Do you know it?" She grimaced at the thought of bringing him there. Ruby Lucas, her best friend, ran the place with her grandmother. She'd be ruthless with questions upon seeing her with a man, but she wanted to be somewhere that was familiar in case things went wrong. "I know it. Never been inside, but I've heard good things," he replied. "Can you meet me in an hour?" she asked, looking at the time. It was already approaching noon. "Aye, I'm free until this evening. I'll see you there, Swan," he confirmed and Emma hung up the phone as soon as he did, getting up and heading into her bedroom. What did one wear when they were potentially making the dumbest decision ever?

Tag list (if you would like to be added or removed from this list, please send me a message): @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @bmbbcs4evr @kmomof4 @xemmaloveskillianx @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @courtorderedcake

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Religion (3) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: September 13th, 2022

part one, part two

Abomination (ao3) - pretive

Summary: In which Dan's father is a preacher, and Dan has just slept with Phil for the first time.

A Dance With Death - botanistlester

Summary: Dan is the God of Death, who helps people to the Underworld when they pass. One day, he randomly pops up at a masquerade ball for Prince Philip’s coming of age ceremony. He doesn’t know why he is there, but it’s hard to focus on his job when the prince asks him to dance.

Advocates For Change (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: What happens when society chooses to cure anyone whose different? What happens if, to cure them, they need to be removed to society and put into camps? What happens when Dan is taken to one of those camps?

Or, an AU in which, anyone who has an abnormal sexuality, gender, religion or a mental illness, is taken to a camp to be cured but the system doesn't work.

A Reset of Intent (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: Dan might be dying. It’s unclear at this point, but, in any case, he’s stuck going stir crazy in a hospital room for the time being. Phil is a pastor at a local church who got a phone call about visiting someone’s lonely grandson. It shouldn’t work between them, but it does. A little too well for a maybe-dying atheist and a maybe-not-all-that-straight man of God.

A Taste of Myrrh (ao3) - imsorryimlate

Summary: “… Should I be calling you ‘father’?” Dan asked and regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth.  Phil smiled.  “You can, if you want.”  There was something about the way he said it that made Dan feel hot all over.

Or: Dan falls in love with Phil, who happens to be a celibate priest. Great.

Flower Crowns and Cigarettes (ao3) - HowellAboutYas

Summary: Daniel is the local priest’s son and Phil is his next door neighbour. They’ve been best friends for over a decade but one three a.m. visit from Phil changes everything.

Forever in Hell (ao3) - omgdatphantho

Summary: All Phil wanted to do was cleanse his house. Now, he has a demon for a roommate.

Heaven and Hell Between Us - phlanetary

Summary: “If God only accepts ordinary people in heaven, maybe heaven isn’t such a wonderful place, after all.”

If I’m a Saint, then You’re Heaven - botanistlester

Summary: Phil is less than excited to start his Sex in the Bible course, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when he meets a gorgeous angel dressed in all pink by the name of Dan.

Love Thy Neighbor (ao3) - princesslexi763

Summary: Phil is the son of Assembly of God pastor who begins to fall for the son of the rivaling Methodist church across the road. A quick friendship quickly picks up speed into a sexual relationship that neither one of them can avoid. Finding solace in one another, they gain a newfound love that they never knew could have existed.

Make Me Sin (ao3) - sjakalen

Summary: In which Dan is the town’s new pastor, and Phil is sheer trouble.

Sinner In Secret (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Confession January 30th Leviticus 18:22 "Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is an abomination." Forgive me, lord, for I have sinned.

Sins - your-precious-phan-blog

Summary: Punk!Phil is pinning after Religious!Pastel!Dan.

Spirituality (ao3) - dannihowell (iguessicantry)

Summary: The choirboy makes Phil blush.

The Path of Righteousness (ao3) - TwistedRocketPower

Summary: At six years old, with his parents by his side, Daniel Howell was led through the entrance of the spiritual society God’s Guard. Raised under the leadership of The Chosen One, Joshua, this community was all Daniel knew. No matter what anyone said, God’s Guard was not a cult. It wouldn’t matter if it was one anyway, because there wasn’t anything or anyone who could take him from this place.

The Serenity Prayer (ao3) - TwistedRocketPower

Summary: Daniel Howell is a Christian vlogger, dedicated to telling the world about God and living a life that pleases Him. When he is invited to a mainstream YouTube convention, he expects it to be an opportunity to speak to a wider audience about God. What he doesn’t expect is running into Phil Lester, a man capable of changing his entire world.

Three Secrets, Two Lies, One Truth - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Phil is Dan’s new accountability partner at church and things get a little complicated, especially when Dan comes out in confidence to him and ruins practically everything.

would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you? (ao3) - resurrectdead

Summary: it's 1978, everything is a bad influence, catholicism makes you a bit sad sometimes and dan finds the answer to all his questions.

You Make Me Brave (ao3) - thathipsterkaiya

Summary: Dan didn’t want anything to do with being Catholic ever since the boys in his church choir started bullying him for being gay when he was 14 years old. Now with his father forcing him to go to a Catholic University as a last resort to make him Christian again, Dan must come face to face with his faith. A bright religious grad student named Phil offers Dan a chance to find God again. Little did Dan know that he’d end up falling in love along the way.

Your Petals Are My Thorns (ao3) - theshyauthor

Summary: Dan likes flowers. That’s why he grows them on his thighs whenever he has forbidden thoughts about other men. When Phil comes into his life, Dan’s small garden grows into a field.

[taeken-my-heart]

Lente

Summary:  Reconnecting with your childhood best friend was just what you needed to help heal the hurt.

Pairing: Jungkookx Reader

Genre: Light fluff/Light angst

Word Count: 2327

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness and suicide. Allusion to sex. 

“You’re lucky.” You said, peering out of the floor to ceiling windows, wine glass clutched in your hand as you surveyed the evening sky. It had turned from twilight to inky black as you’d stood at that window, listening to the sound of his humming as he searched through old records to find what he wanted to show you. You could see his eyes search for yours in the reflections of the window, fingers paused along the edges of the box he’d pulled from the bookcase.

“Lucky?” He repeated, “In what respect?”

You shrugged, shifting your gaze from his reflection back out to the night sky. “In every respect, I suppose. Your life seems ideal.”

You could hear Jungkook smile as he came to stand behind you, record gripped in his hand. “Trust me, my life is not ideal. I’ve spent years building it to look that way from the outside. I’m an artist and a musician, it’s my job to create illusions of beauty.”

You took another sip of your red wine before setting your half emptied glass on a nearby table and turning to face him. “So did you find it?” Sometimes the subject was best changed when it came too close to facing your demons.

Jungkook grinned, holding the record up for you to see. “I did, and I really think you’ll love it. Here, come with me for a second.”

You followed him as he made his way towards the couch, ushering you to sit down while he got the record situated. “I found it by pure coincidence,” Jungkook said as he grabbed the needle and held it in place, “but it made me think of you.”

As Jungkook pressed the play button you listened intently as notes began to fill the room.

 I can think of younger days when living for my life

Was everything a man could want to do

I could never see tomorrow, but I was never told about the sorrow

And how can you mend a broken heart?

How can you stop the rain from falling down?

How can you stop the sun from shining?

What makes the world go round?

And how can you mend this broken man?

How can a loser ever win?

Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.

 You looked up at Jungkook, eyes glassy as your heart pumped painfully in your chest. Your mother’s happy song, as strange as it was. She used to say that Al Green crooning words of sadness helped her to remember to feel happy.

For a while it was your happy song too, but eventually it soured, left a bitter taste in your mouth as you remembered the mother who’d left you with this memory and only that as she’d abandoned you to the grasp of your emotionally unavailable father.

But now…now it was nostalgic. A reminder of a woman you once knew, a woman who’d shown love and affection in the moments and ways she knew how. A dream of a woman that no longer lived in your now and only in the deep recesses of your mind and childhood.

“Jungkook.” You whispered, but you couldn’t find the strength to say anything else and you hoped your eyes could say what you couldn’t. He smiled, looking down at the record player and closing his eyes as the music filled the room.

Your parents divorced when you were 10 years old and they argued constantly about everything, especially about where you were expected to live once they’d gone their separate ways. Frankly, you hadn’t really wanted to live with either one of them.

Your father was distant and unemotional and your mother was…well, she was different. She had her moments of lucidity when she was happy and positive and then there were bad days, days in which she would sleep half the day to then wake in a fit of uncontrollable laughter that couldn’t be explained. She wouldn’t shower and would accuse you of being on your father’s side, though you’d never said a word one way or the other. She’d played this song so many times you still remembered each word, it had been engraved in your mind so deeply.

As you’d gotten older and chosen mental health as your profession you’d come to realize she was suffering from undiagnosed schizophrenia. You supposed as the stress from the divorce was building and her own personal issues were becoming more severe that she’d just given up because the day after the divorce was finalized was the last time you saw her, promising to bring you back something nice from the grocery store. Only, she never did come back.

At first you’d felt confused because she had fought with your father so hard to keep you. Then sad that she gave up and then angry. So, so angry that she’d abandoned you, and with a man who pretended you didn’t exist, no less. Now there was a gentle acceptance of a turmoil you could never have understood and a longing for a woman you supposed you’d never see again. You didn’t even know if she was still alive.

“You told me about this song, once.” Jungkook said softly. “Back in high school when we heard it that one time in the cab of my truck. You remember, right? We were sitting in that corn field talking about our dreams of getting out of that small town, running away from our problems. You from your distant father and me from my alcoholic mother. If I’m being honest, while I hoped for those things I never actually thought I’d get out of there. I knew you would, though.”

You sent him a watery smile, shaking your head. “I knew you’d get out.” You murmured. “You were filled to the brim with potential and you were so, so smart. There was no way you could have been kept there.”

“I missed you,” Jungkook sighed, running his finger along the edge of the desk that held the still singing record player. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You nodded, bowing your head in shame. “I’m sorry I left like that. When I got that scholarship I couldn’t think straight, I just knew I needed to get out.”

Jungkook shrugged, coming to sit beside you and leaning back into the cushions of the couch. “What happened to you after I left?” You asked, “Tell me about your life.”

Jungkook’s smile didn’t reach his eyes and you had the feeling he was going to tell you something that perhaps you wouldn’t like to hear. “Well, my mom got really sick so I had to postpone college to take care of her; years of alcohol abuse, I guess it weakened her immune system. I stayed and worked at the grocery store, you remember Greg’s right?” when you nodded he resumed his story. “Well anyway, about 8 months after I was supposed to go to school she decided she’d had enough of everything and popped some pills.”

“Oh, Jungkook, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, reaching out for his hand before thinking better of it. Perhaps he wouldn’t be appreciative of that kind of gesture.

“She was hardly there anyway,” Jungkook scoffed, frowning out towards the window, but despite his façade of disinterest you could see the grief written into his features, knew him too well, even after all these years, for him to hide behind a mask of biting resentment.  “So after the funeral I decided there was nothing left for me to do but finally go to school. They’d said they’d hold my full ride for me for a year and since it had only been 9 months it was the right time, I guess.” He shrugged, running fingers through dark, messy tufts of hair.

“I’m still sorry,” you murmured, “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, even when they’re not what you want them to be.”

Jungkook looked up at you, smiling, and suddenly he was standing. “Would you like to dance with me?”

You blinked in confusion, “but the song has stopped.”

Jungkook marched over to the record player, resetting the needle and pressing the play button once again. He walked back slowly towards you as the notes began to fill the room and held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated looking between his hand and his face before smiling softly and allowing him to pull you into his arms as he swayed side to side. You danced slowly, allowing new memories to fill the spaces in the song that your mother had long since left vacant. Memories of running down dirt lanes, swimming in the lake by your house, Jungkook sneaking you out in the middle of the night to drive down back roads just a little too fast with the wind whipping in the windows and through your hair as he helped you escape a night of empty words and hollow eyes at the hands of your father.

Feelings of desolation disappeared after years of no communication between the two of you and you realized in that moment how much you’d missed your childhood friend, how much he really meant to you when you fled from that small town.

Growing up he’d been the only one you trusted in the entire world and now you felt bitter disappointment that you’d left him in the dust to go and find some peace. While you didn’t regret finding that peace you now wish he’d been with you to help fill the lonely spaces in your heart while you’d navigated the new world alone.

Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you sighed, allowing the memories to wash through you. It was a coincidence that you’d met today in that bookstore on 17th and Sable. After insisting to your friend that you would find and purchase The 5th Circle so that you could gush about it with her, you’d completely forgotten in the shock of running into your childhood friend in the fantasy section of that tiny, hole in the wall shop as he scanned dusty tomes, thick glasses hanging from the end of his nose and tongue caught between front teeth.

He’d looked at you, blinking, as though he thought his eyes must be playing tricks on him before ripping his glasses from his face and staring at you in unabashed joy. He’d pulled you into a hug, laughing softly as you’d giggled, spluttering over and over again how you couldn’t believe it, of all the places.

Out of breath and out of your minds, the two of you had stumbled joyfully back into the streets to grab a drink and talk about old times. Lunch had led to dinner and drinks at his 14th floor condo and conversations about all the uncomfortable things you’d been avoiding all day. It was nice to be ending this evening with the arms of your first true friend wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest.

The sound of his voice calling your name brought you from your thoughts and you lifted your face to look up at him. His dark brown eyes, perfectly rounded nose, and soft pink lips all directed at you. He was so handsome, you’d always noticed, but never had the courage to say so.

“Mmm?” You hummed, watching as his eyes scanned your face.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

You nearly jolted away from him in shock. Kiss you? He wanted to kiss you? As it was, you managed to remain perfectly still as your bodies came to a standstill and he stared down at you, apprehension drawn into every feature of his handsome face.

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything so you nodded slightly and waited as Jungkook’s hand came to cradle your cheek, watching you carefully as though he thought you might change your mind before bending forward and taking your lips with his own.

His kiss was gentle and left you breathless. You clung tighter to his waist as he kissed you slowly, tenderly, afraid he would break you. Really, he could, you were so fragile after the childhood you’d had. Then again, so was he.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him closer to you, kiss deepening the longer you clung to one another. His warmth seeped into your clothes and straight to your heart, clutching onto you for dear life.

“Please don’t leave me,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips and you pulled back just far enough to see the tears building in his eyes, “I missed you so much. I don’t think I could handle it if I never saw you again. I’ve loved you for so long, I wish I’d had the courage to tell you sooner.”

You swallowed nervously, not quite believing what you’d heard. All those years of wasted time, all those years of secret yearning for the wild eyed, adventure seeking daredevil of a best friend you’d always thought would never feel the same.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I’ve loved you all my life; now you’re stuck with me.” You whispered, tightening your hold around his neck and he swooped down to capture your lips again.

His fingers roamed the sides of your waist, settling on your hips as he stepped closer to your body, drawing your lips apart and seeking refuge in the depths of your mouth. You could feel the muscles in his shoulders cording underneath your arms and you pulled him impossibly closer, reveling in his taste and smell. He still smelled of cinnamon and aftershave, after all these years.

“Stay the night?” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours and you nodded eagerly, unable to respond from lack of breath.

And he soon pulled you under the sheets and you both whispered with gentle touches and small gasps just how much you loved each other.

 This story idea has been brewing in my head since 2011 and was inspired by the song Kiss Me Slowly by Parachute. I hope you enjoy it lovelies <3

Copyright © 2018  by taeken-my-heart (Nora.) All rights reserved.

[regenderate-fic]

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 18

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan, Dan Lewis, Jack Harkness, Ryan Sinclair Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 2,059 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: this chapter is where we start to Get Into It, emotionally. i'm soooo excited to post the rest of this fic you all don't even know <3

Yaz is still seized with frustration and anger a few hours later. She’s been channeling it into creating fabric designs in Animal Crossing that are made up of just one color, filled in pixel by pixel. The repetition is helpful, as is Rose’s calming presence next to her, but it doesn’t take away Yaz’s need to do something a little more tangible. Seven years of caring for the Doctor are coming to a head inside her: her love is as fierce as ever, but so is her anger. It’s been seven years— more, for the Doctor, she’s pretty sure— and the Doctor is still like this. It’s more than Yaz can bear.

Finally, she hears movement in the kitchen. Immediately, she saves her game and stalks out to where the Doctor is sitting on the counter, eating raw toast.

“Doctor,” she says.

“Yaz!” The Doctor jumps up, seemingly oblivious to Yaz’s stony expression. “Brilliant. Was just wondering where you were. I’m going to go on a walk. D’you want to go on a walk with me?”

Yaz blinks. “Yeah. That’s a good idea, actually. Let’s go on a walk.”

The Doctor frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” Yaz’s tone of voice, clipped and brusque, tells a different story. “Let’s walk.”

Without another word, she goes back into the room she shares with Rose and starts rifling through her stuff.

“The Doctor and I are going for a walk,” she says, pulling out a pair of jeans.

“All right,” Rose says. “I’ll be here.”

Yaz nods. She pulls on the jeans and goes back out, walking right past the Doctor waiting in the living room to pull on her leather jacket. The Doctor, of course, is already wearing her gray coat, this time over a not-quite-right striped shirt and her new cropped sweats.

“Ready to go?” she asks Yaz.

“Ready.”

They head out together. Immediately, the Doctor starts chattering: “It’s small in there! Don’t you think it’s small? A bit too small, really. Can barely move around.”

“It’s not going to be a bigger-on-the-inside timeship,” Yaz says, still tense.

“’Course not. I don’t expect it, obviously. Not from human dwellings, at least not this century. A little later you’ll get better at the whole “using space” thing. And then of course loads of humans adapt to not having space— I was never all that good at adapting.” They get to the bottom of the stairs, venturing out onto the sidewalk. It’s a bit chilly out, the air crisp on Yaz’s skin.

“You travel in time,” Yaz points out.

“Suppose I do,” the Doctor says. “But if that’s my natural state, by adapting to everything, I’ve never had to properly adapt to anything. And most of the time, I’ve got my TARDIS. Or at least a clear way back to my TARDIS that doesn’t involve waiting around for months at a time.”

They’re at a street corner now, and Yaz turns right. The Doctor follows.

“Anyway, are you all right?” the Doctor asks. “Something seems off today.”

Yaz rolls her eyes, her hands balled up into fists. “I’m fine.”

A moment of silence.

And then it all bursts out, forceful and clipped.

“Doctor. Rose thinks you don’t want her around.”

The Doctor stops in her tracks and stares at Yaz. “Huh? Why on Earth would she think that?”

Yaz raises her eyebrows. “You mean you don’t know?”

The Doctor shakes her head, her eyes wide and expectant.

“First of all,” Yaz says, “do I have to remind you that you left her in the rain when you went to look for your TARDIS? You don’t talk to her properly, you act all weird and distant, and then you do things like give her your actual life force and get annoyed when she calls you out on it. C’mon, Doctor. What’s going on?”

There’s a long moment before the Doctor answers, filled only by their footsteps on the concrete.

And then the Doctor says, “Rose isn’t supposed to be here.”  Her voice, like so much about her, is like a coiled spring. “There’s not supposed to be any way back from the parallel universe. And now, she’s here.” She hesitates. “It just— I—”

Yaz’s voice cuts through the silence. “You what, Doctor?”

There’s a long pause. When the Doctor speaks, it’s so quiet Yaz almost can’t hear it.

“I don’t not want her around.”

Yaz raises her eyebrows. “Well, you might try telling her that.”

“She knows!” the Doctor exclaims. “She should know. I mean, we were—“ She falters. And then she takes a breath, clearly about to continue.

But before she can, Yaz’s phone in her pocket starts buzzing. She pulls it out and checks the screen.

“Ugh, it’s my dad,” she says. She glances at the Doctor. “Sorry, I’ve got to take it.” And then, infusing as much authority as she can into her voice, she says, “We will talk later.” And before the Doctor can say anything, Yaz accepts the call and starts walking in the other direction, injecting false cheer into her voice. “Hiya, Dad!”

“I’ve got it!” her dad’s voice says, triumphant.

“A hello might’ve been nice,” Yaz says, still irritated.

“No time for a hello,” her dad says. “Now tell me, Yaz, what are you doing in this newspaper from 1903?”

Yaz sighs. This is decidedly not the time. “What?” she asks, hoping she sounds convincingly confused.

“No funny business, Yaz. I’ve got it in front of me. Gossip page. ‘Yasmin Khan, adventurer, who embarks on another journey abroad with her two companions, Dan Lewis and Eustacius Jericho, next week.’”

Of course. Yaz should never have used her real name. She didn’t expect, way back at the beginning, that her travels with Dan and Jericho would gain her a bit of a reputation, but of course they had, and now there was physical evidence of her presence in the 1900’s. “There are loads of people named Yasmin Khan,” she tries. “That’s what you get, giving me an unoriginal name.”

Her dad doesn’t take the bait. “I think I know my own daughter’s face when I see it. Even if she never comes home.”

“They have a picture?” The second the words leave Yaz’s mouth, she knows she’s betrayed herself. She leans against the nearest wall. “All right. What do you want to know?”

She hears her dad sputtering on the other end of the line. “What do I want to know? Everything! I want to know everything!”

“I told you before,” Yaz says, “and you didn’t believe me.”

“Well, that was before I had evidence,” her dad replies. “Turns out my forums have loads of information on the Doctor, once I figured out where to look. The trick is, you can’t just search ‘Doctor.’ Got to add some other terms to it.”

“Loads of conspiracies about doctors, are there?” Yaz asks.

“Don’t change the subject!”

Yaz takes a deep breath. “All right, then. Seriously, you’ve got to give me a place to start.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” her dad says. “How about what on Earth you’re doing in this newspaper from 1903? And why doesn’t it mention the Doctor anywhere?”

Yaz has a horrible feeling in her stomach. Every word she says feels like a massive risk, like she’s jumping off a ledge only to fall onto another ledge and have to jump again. Once she speaks, she can’t take it back. “You believe me about the time travel, then?” she ventures. It’s a jump.

“’Course I do.”

She crashes onto the  ledge. And then she jumps off, letting her words hang in the cool midday air. “I got stuck without the Doctor. Dad, it’s really complicated. I don’t know if I can explain it in a way that makes sense.”

“At least give it a try.”

She crashes. She jumps. “Remember the Sontarans? The—” She tries to remember what Dan said his parents called it. “The three-minute eclipse?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Crash. Jump. “It’s all connected. I explained some of it to Mum.”

“Your mum knows?” Hakim sounds hurt.

Yaz tries not to sound as irritated as she feels. “Yeah, well, she believed me to begin with.” Crash. Jump. “But the Sontarans, the eclipse— we were trying to deal with this— this threat, and we wound up in the 1960’s, and there were these creatures that could zap you back in time. So I got zapped. The Doctor didn’t. We found each other again eventually.”

“How long was it?”

And now Yaz has crashed all the way to the ground, battered and bruised. “Don’t know,” she evades, brick digging into her back. “Little while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yaz says. She pushes off the wall and starts walking again. “Don’t you want to know about anything else? You know, I’ve also met Nikola Tesla.”

“Don’t try and distract me!” her dad says.

“Look, Dad, I’ve got to go. Can we talk about it later?” She doesn’t have to go, and she doesn’t really intend on talking about it later. But if she has to stay on the line a second longer, she’s going to explode.

“Yaz—”

“Love you.” Yaz ends the call before her dad can say anything else. She takes a deep breath, trying to regulate herself.

She doesn’t want her family to know how long it’s been.

She doesn’t want to have to explain, doesn’t want their confusion or their sympathy. Doesn’t want to see hurt in their eyes when they realize they’ve missed four years of her life. It’s easier for them— for everyone— if they just don’t know.

She’ll have to tell them eventually.

She’s back at the flat. She climbs the stairs and enters to see Rose in the living room, playing her Switch with Ruby on her lap. Ruby is swiping at the screen, trying to play too, and as Yaz comes in Rose is laughing, pulling the Switch away. She stops when she sees Yaz.

“Where’s the Doctor?”

Yaz shrugs. “Don’t know. My dad called.”

Understanding dawns on Rose’s face. “Did he figure it out?”

Yaz sits heavily on the couch. “Yeah.”

Rose leans against Yaz, providing her some much-needed warmth. “What about the Doctor? How’d it go with her?”

“She, quote, ‘doesn’t not want you around.’” Yaz scowls. “We got interrupted before we could really talk.”

“By your dad.”

Yaz nods.

Rose slides her hand over Yaz’s, lacing their fingers together. “Tough day.”

“You could say that.” Yaz leans back, closing her eyes. “I still didn’t tell my dad about the four years. He’s going to figure it out.”

“You don’t want him to?”

“I don’t want to talk to him about it.” With a great exhale, Yaz lets her head roll onto Rose’s shoulder. “It’s more than I can handle.”

Rose squeezes her hand. “Yeah. I get that.” She hesitates. “Did I tell you, first time I went with the Doctor, I didn’t tell my mum where I was going, and then the TARDIS landed a year later than we meant to? I went missing for a full year.”

“A year?”

“Yeah.” Rose’s voice is quiet. “Felt like the whole world had moved on without me. They hadn’t, not really— they’d been looking for me that whole time. But everyone was a year older, and I wasn’t.”

“Yeah.” Yaz hesitates. “I don’t like being out of sync with my family. I mean, it’s too late now. But I want us to be on the same page. I guess some part of me just wants to still be twenty-two, you know?”

“Yeah.” There’s a long silence, and then Rose says, “I don’t know. Everyone grows apart from their family eventually. I mean, you were always going to leave home, weren’t you?”

Yaz nods against Rose’s shoulder.

“We all drift apart from our parents.” Rose’s voice is distant. “It’s a good thing, if the thing that takes you away from them is something you asked for.”

“I do really want my life with the Doctor,” Yaz admits. “I mean, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, I suppose. I just don’t want to hurt them.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rose says. Her hand is warm and solid in Yaz’s. “Promise.”

“You can’t know that,” Yaz says, but she’s smiling. She squeezes Rose’s hand. “Thanks.”

Rose squeezes back. “Anytime.”

[arazialotis]

Austin Nights - Part 5

Pairing: Single!Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 3500

Summary: The reader lives in Austin and unknowingly runs into Jensen at a bonfire and sparks fly. Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

When Jensen had said he would be in touch, you actually assumed it would be him. However, you felt like you had talked with his marketing and security team more than him in the last three weeks. (Yes, you promised him two but the school had asked for three in order to find a substitute counselor for such a long period of time.) If you had to go over your social media privacy settings one more time, you might begin pulling your hair out. It was driving you bonkers to say the least. Honestly, you didn’t care what people did and didn’t know about you or what could possibly happen if someone came across an unflattering photo, god forbid. But it was all to maintain Jensen’s image and you were determined to keep it up as much as you could.

All that behind you now, you were waiting in an airport terminal with boarding passes and passport in hand. The $3 fedora from Target rest atop your head being your constant companion for any traveling adventure. Angie hardly let you go and if she had a valid passport she would have definitely come with you.

“Take a picture with Jared for me.” She demanded. “No, call me with him, wait make sure it is a video call!” She had instructed you.

Thinking about it now, you were super nervous and unsure why. With Jensen it came and happened so naturally. With Jared it seemed like you needed to meet an expectation, you were dating his best friend, you needed to live up to his standard and make a good impression. Regardless, there was no turning back now as you boarded the plane.

Customs were quick and easy. You couldn't remember who told you but someone had once explained getting into Canada was fairly easy, it was coming back when you would run into problems. Jensen had texted you earlier explaining a car would meet you there. However, you tried to make it clear that you would be fine with a cab. Regardless, coming down the escalator you saw a man dressed in black holding a sign with your name. You rolled your eyes and tucked your hair up into your hat, trying to disguise yourself. You said you were taking a cab so that’s what you were going to do, you thought. As soon as you hit the floor you b-lined for the opposite direction of the driver, trying to make it outside before noticed.

You cringed as you heard, “Ms. Y/L/N, Ms. Y/L/N!” being called throughout the lobby.

You forcefully froze yourself as not to run out the doors. You turned around putting a smile on as the man caught up to you. “Oh, wow. This was unexpected, I didn’t see you.” You lied through a smile.

The man saw through your act. “He told me you might try to avoid me.”

“I’m just very independent, that’s all.” You tried to ration.

“Can I grab your luggage?” He smiled, not sure if he was amused or offended.

“Independent.” You said slowly again.

“Right, of course. We’re out this way.” He directed.

You followed willingly but played a bit of tug-o-war for the honors of loading the luggage into the car. He eventually won and opened the door for you. Driving down the highway you looked out the window taking in the new views and cityscape.

“So, are we heading to Jay’s apartment?” You asked.

“Mr. Ackles requested that I take you to the studio and I’ll drop your luggage off at his residence afterwards.” He responded.

“Well, I could wait at Mr. Ackles’ apartment until he arrives so I could freshen up and rest from a day of travel.” You suggested with a bit of attitude.

“If need be, you can in the trailer, it has more than enough accommodations.”

You sighed not getting your way. The longer you traveled down the highway the more anxious you became and started to fiddle with your fingers. When you arrived to the studio it looked as you expected. A gated entrance, factory warehouses which contained sets. You had to check in with security, including having your picture taken, your bag searched through, and you were required to wear a visitor’s badge. It was honestly more of a process than customs had been. Upon arriving at Jay’s trailer, the driver introduced you to a personal assistant named Marcus.

“Marcus will escort you around the studio and help you with anything you need. I’ll drop your luggage to Mr. Ackles’ apartment.” The driver explained again.

“Really, I’ll be fine, I don’t need a PA.” You tried to argue.

“Even if you don’t, it’s a security requirement.”

“Because I am such a threat.” You tried to joke, but the driver must have lost his patience dealing with your antics.

So you were left alone with Marcus, who immediately started asking want you wanted to drink or eat or needed.

“Just need to freshen up.” You explained.

“Right, of course.” He unlocked the trailer for you. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

As you entered you were certain your jaw fell to the floor. It had more luxury than your own apartment and was probably equal in size. Okay, so you were exaggerating, but not by much. You cautiously explored around, opening cupboards, looking at the rooms, probably breaching all kinds of security protocols. You did find a small bathroom and freshened up as well as applying some makeup that you had kept in your travel bag. Being unsure of what to do, you sat on a couch, and just sat, hoping Jensen would come join you soon. After about an hour, you couldn’t stand it anymore and went outside to find Marcus, sitting literally right there.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you could have come in.” You apologized.

“No, it's okay, I wouldn’t have anyways. Can I get you something?” He asked.

“Actually, I was wondering where Jensen is?” You asked.

“They’re working on set right now, needing to get a few scenes done before the end of the day.” He explained but caught hint of your frown. “But I can see if it is an open set, we could go watch them.” He suggested.

“Would you?” You asked relieved. “That would be amazing.” You liked him a lot better than the driver.

Marcus responded to a text on his phone. “Yeah, we can definitely sneak in.”

Marcus led you to a golf cart and drove around the studio until entering a warehouse. You were at the set of the bunker with a full crew and the cast running lines. You stood in the back as not to be a distraction.

“It looks like a skeleton compared to what’s on TV.” You whispered to Marcus.

“Yeah, it’s amazing what we’re able to do.” He whispered back.

You heard Jensen’s voice over the set. Your heart dropped and your cheeks flushed seeing him as something familiar in this strange world. It had only been three weeks but you desperately wanted to run up and hug him. You bounced in place a little in order to contain your excitement. Throughout the scene you watched him. He was so focused and involved it really felt like Dean Winchester was in the room.

They quickly reset the scene. It amazed you how quickly he slipped out of character, joking around with Jared, and how fast he got back into the scene. Things were heating up in the scene and you jumped startled when Jensen slammed his hand down on the table. He was attempting to be furious but caught a glance of you out of the corner of his eye and smiled. He looked back down at the table attempting to furrow his brow again but he couldn’t help to grin like a child.

“Cut,” He yelled. “I need a cut.” He repeated.

A bell rang and someone yelled “15 minutes” as he ran over to you. He picked you up into a hug and spun you around, planting a kiss on your cheek. You laughed as he placed you back down on the ground.

“God, I missed you.” He confessed.

“You can’t cut a scene for me, they’ll hate me.” You whispered concerned.

“What? No. Besides I hear you are making friends already.” He joked.

“Who said that, the hitman or the babysitter?” You whispered again not wanting Marcus to hear.

“Someone is concerned you are either a flight risk or a security threat.” Jensen smiled only imagining how you acted earlier.

“He should realize I’m both, tattletale” You joked. “I was trying to be friendly, really.” You tried to convince him.

“Oh, no doubt.” Jensen said not believing it for a second.

You caught a glimpse of Jared heading over and nuzzled Jensen attempting to hide in his shoulder. He reassuringly rubbed your back and you turned around ready to make a good impression.

“So this is who’ve you been hiding for what, seven months now?” Jared asked Jensen. “I can see why.” He reached out to shake your hand as your cheeks set on fire.

“Down boy.” Jensen lightheartedly nudged Jared, to which Jared patted Jay’s chest.

“So, Jensen has literally shared no information with me about you…” Jared started.

“Not true.” Jay interrupted.

“So quick, give me the spark notes.” Jared continued.

“Um… really just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.” You started giving you a second to think causing both of them to smile. “Bachelors of social work from U of T, passionate for social justice and raising mental health awareness, guidance counselor at a middle school, and in love with this guy right here…” You nudged Jensen and froze, did you just say love?

“Y/N is all about AFK, uses the message a lot with her students.” Jensen interrupted sensing you had froze.

“Very cool.” Jared added.

“Other than that I like exploring new and weird places and some people would say I am stubborn.” You looked at Jensen who shook his head denying. “But I’d love to chat more over a beer sometime and get to know you.”

“Of course, we should totally go out tonight after we are finished with the set.” Jared suggested. Jay cleared his throat. “I guess Jensen can come too.” Jared added. You laughed nervously. Jared was called from across the set. “It was great meeting you, looking forward to tonight.” He winked and bounded across the room.

You immediately hid your face in Jensen’s chest again and he wrapped his arms around you. “Was that okay?” You asked in a muffled voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jensen asked you. “I love you and so I know Jared will too. Just be yourself okay?” You nodded. “So I gotta get back to it if we are ever going to make it out of here tonight.”

You finally left the shelter of him. “Can I stay and watch? I’ll try not to be a distraction.”

“That’s impossible, you’re always a distraction in my head. But maybe I can turn the distraction into a muse.” He winked at you and left to follow Jared.

Marcus appeared next to you again with a drink holder filled with four different coffee creations. “I didn’t know what you would like so I am hoping one of these will work.” When you looked at him confused. He continued. “I just thought after a long day of travel, and with the time change…”

“I guess we’ll just have to drink them all then.” You suggested taking one and giving another to him and silently toasting.

It took them two hours to finish up the two scenes. During cuts Jensen would flirt at you with his eyes to which you would return with a silly face. It was another 30 minutes before they were cleaned up and officially released. Marcus finally left your side when Jensen took over again and walked you to his trailer.

“So what did you think?” He asked you.

“I don’t know… It was weird.” You confessed.

“What? Weird how?” He questioned.

“I don’t know how to explain it… it’s just like so much goes into it for something that is only going to be on the screen for two minutes and you literally become a different person out there.” You tried to put to words. “I’ve just never experienced anything like it.”

He opened the trailer door and let you in.

“I don’t think it would be any different if I watched you work though. I’ve never seen you in action.” He commented.

“Except I wouldn’t be able to get any work done, all the girls would be lined up at the door to gush over you.” You joked.

“Nah, I’m too outdated for them. I’m sure it’s all Harry Styles this, J Biebs that.” Jensen played off.

You simply rolled your eyes in response as he did not realize how much he still had it going on.

“Hey, what’s this?” Jensen pointed to a wrapped package on the counter.

“A present.” You said a bit nervous about how he would react to it.

“A present?” He repeated and started opening it up.

“Yeah, it’s just something stupid…”

Upon opening, Jensen laughed and crinkled his nose. It was a small Texas longhorn stuffed animal that you had picked up before leaving the Austin airport.

“It’s so you won’t get lonely when I leave.” You explained embarrassed.

He pulled you closer, pinning you between him and the counter. “I love it.” He said sincerely. “Expect I’m never letting you leave.” He said before starting to kiss your neck and his hands went for your waist.

You started to laugh. “Oh my gosh! Jared’s probably waiting for us.”

“He can wait and extra 15 minutes.” Jensen’s tone turned animal.

Well, 15 minutes later you both were heading out. You self-consciously ran your fingers through your hair and adjusted your clothing to make sure everything was in place. You met up with Jared who had his classic beanie on and was ready to leave.

“What took you so long, diva?” He asked Jensen.

Jensen gave him a perky grin and raised his eyebrows. You nudged him with your elbow. Apparently it took him longer to get out of character than you thought.

“So, Jared, do you have any suggestions for tonight?” You asked trying to redirect the conversation.

“Uh, Gastown is pretty cute. Think she’d like it down there?” Jared asked Jay.

He nodded his head and with a serious tone mocked Jared. “Oh, yes, very cute.”

“I’m up for anything. We could share a cab, or hop on the metro?” You suggested.

“It’ll be easier just to get a driver.” Jensen said.

You shook your head no with exaggerated playful anxiety written on your face.

“Listen, you’ve got full reign in Austin, up here things are just a little different. You’ll get used to it though.” Jensen tried to encourage you.

“What’s wrong with the driver?” Jared asked confused.

“I think he’s listed me as at least a code 4 security concern.” You admitted.

“Nice!” Jared laughed and high fived you. “We should sneak her in tomorrow just to mess with them.” He suggested.

“Regardless, the more we are out in public together, the more we chance depriving Angie the promise of outing us.” Jensen said as the driver pulled up.

You squished in-between the middle of them not wanting to sit up front. “Oh, have you not checked twitter today?” You asked him.

“Even if he did, he literally is only following 4 people and therefore misses everything.” Jared teased.

You pulled up Angie’s tweet on your phone as Jensen and Jared playfully bickered about technology. Angie had taken a photo of you at the terminal posing with your suitcase, foot pop and all. ‘My bestie @Y/N is headed up to VC. Any guesses on who she is going to see? ;)’ You had been avoiding your phone all day with the amount of responses. Ever since she initially posted the first photo of you and Jay, her account had blown up. With this second tweet yours was going out of control as well. Jay took your phone to see what was going on.

“Oh, we are taking care of this right now.” Jay said. He took his own phone out to take a selfie.

“Ahh! No!” You leaned closer to Jared. “I’m all jet-lagged and gross from traveling.” Jared pushed you back to Jay. “Fine, fine.” You finally agreed.

“Okay, how do you get this thing to work?” Jensen asked causing you to laugh. He snapped the picture then, loving the way your eyes lit up and smile brightened when he caused you to laugh.

“Jensen, we have to do a real one.” You complained cheerfully.

“Alright, but I am keeping that one for the photo album.” He joked again and took another photo. When he looked to see how it turned out, he reared his head back laughing. At the last second you had puckered your lips and crossed your eyes.

“You guys are impossible.” Jared said taking Jensen’s phone ready to take another picture. “I’m uploading this one either way so make it count. 3… 2…”

Jensen kissed your temple and held the other side of you head, pressing you closer to him. You squinted your eyes shut with a playful and ecstatic smile.

Jensen took it back. “Yeah, that's a cute one.” He commented typing up a tweet.

“Yes, all your cuteness is making me nauseous.” Jared said sarcastically.

“We try and keep the PDA to a minimum.” You defended.

“Right, Jensen told me how you met.” Jared argued.

“It doesn’t count if no one is around.” You tried to convince him.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s just a bitter old man.” Jensen told you.

“You mean free and unchained.” Jared corrected.

“I meant exactly what I said.” Jay stood firm. “Here, what do you think?” He handed you his phone.

‘@bluehairdontcare, Thanks for sending @Y/N up, she’s safe and sound, but no promises on when/if she’ll return.’

You handed the phone back to him. “Here goes nothing.” You said as he posted it.

You felt your phone vibrate and a few seconds later vibrate again and again. You took it out to see the notifications piling on and quickly texted Angie. ‘Going on a tech break for a bit. Contact the prepaid if you need me.’

‘Got it! I still expect a video chat with Jared by the end of the week.’ She responded.

‘Of course.’  ‘Eat up all this attention while you can.’

‘Can I be your press secretary??’ She asked.

‘Haha, absolutely.’  ‘Love you Ang Xx’

‘Love you too Xxx.’

With that you shut your phone off entirely. As you entered the Gastown district, you leaned over Jensen to get a better look. The driver pulled up to a pub called the Black Frog and the three of you got out together. You looked around the brick streets, brick buildings, and quaint street lamps.

“Screw you guys, I’m hanging out down here tomorrow while you’re on set.” You joked.

“I thought you’d like it,” Jared said and held open the door for you. “Come one.”

Jensen grabbed your hand and led you through to a small pub with a wooden floor. There was an open high top which you guys grabbed up. You ordered some poutine as well to accompany the beer. Chatting with both of them came naturally. Occasionally there was a inside joke that left you guessing, but overall things flowed smoothing, it was probably the second drink helping you along. You talked Pearl Jam, other music updates, and guilty listening pleasures with Jared. You explained how your biggest passion was your work and empowering the kids, sitting through the ups and downs with them, hormonal swings and all. They talked a bit about their industry and the show, but you tried to divert the topics so it wouldn’t feel so much like an interview to them.

After about the third yawn within two minutes Jensen spoke up. “Alright, it’s time to get you some sleep.”

You didn’t protest beginning to feel pretty exhausted. You parted ways from Jared after making tentative plans for tomorrow. Having a window seat this time, you spent it gazing at the city lights before leaning your head against Jay’s shoulder and slipping into sleep. When you finally reached his apartment he could hardly wake you.

“Come on girl.” Jensen cooed.

He held you up as you made the way through the lobby and elevator. He sung softly to you on your way into his apartment. You tried to take in the details but they seemed quite hazy. Jensen helped slip your jeans off and tucked you into bed. He came along side you in just his briefs. He stroked your hair as you drifted back to sleep.

“So, love, huh?” Jay asked picking out what you had said to Jared earlier.

“Mmhmm” You hummed softly with your eyes closed.

He kissed your forehead and pulled you close against him. “Glad to finally know you feel the same.”

-----

Click here to Continue to Part 6

------

Tags:

@girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @jensen-gal @mizzzpink @be-amaziing @akshi8278 @smoothdogsgirl @iamnotsaneatall @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @dancingalone21  @jodibullock1  @deansgirl215  @atc74  @psychidella @pretty-fortune @dean-winchesters-baby @mskitty416 @spnfangirl1965 @ashleydivine @winchesterprincessbride @vaisabu @nanie5 @crushing83 @sea040561 @arbitronox