#post is from a year ago and the guy is standing next to a TARDIS

[yellobb]

SHUT UP THERES APPARENTLY A DOCTOR WHO EXHIBIT NEAR WHERE I LIVE?!?!?!

[angryinternetduck]

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. ���See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

[speuradair]

After School Lesson | M.N.

(Author’s Note- This is a reupload of a fic I posted a few months ago. I realized that it was deleted at some point? I’m not sure how or why, but here it is again lol)

Word Count: 3.1k

Contains: Death mention, swearing, angst, injury

Requested: by @technolilly​

“Hi! How about a Makoto X Reader where Makoto, Kyoko, and the reader were the three most suspicious people in the Mukuro trial. During the trial, Reader takes the blame off Makoto but at the last second Kyoko throws the reader under the bus, meaning everyone voted for reader so she was executed? Alter ego saves her and then Makoto and Kyoko rescue her from the garbage? Basically just make the first half really angsty and then have a happy reunion? Feel free to change anything you want! Tysm! “

-

“Being optimistic is the only thing I’m good at.” - Makoto Naegi

-

Thousands of horrific incidents happened everyday. People got attacked, things got stolen, accidents happened. It was just a fact of life. Yet somehow, even after hearing news reports of heinous crimes everyday of your almost eighteen years of life, you’re still never prepared for anything horrific to happen to you.

Then again, this kind of thing was recognizably unprecedented. In all of those newscasts you’d heard, both actively and passively, you’d never heard about anything like this. How could you have possibly prepared to be thrown into the midst of a Killing Game? 

Though it was hard to keep track of the days while being secluded away, you were certain you’d been trapped in Hope’s Peak Academy for at least a month. There had been over 730 hours to process this, but it still didn’t feel real. Maybe on some level you were subconsciously clinging onto a false shred of hope that this was just a night terror, or maybe your mind just wasn’t willing to admit that things really were this dire. Regardless of the reasoning, you’d spent your days here in an unlikely mix of dread and apathy. You were both hyper-aware and numb. 

And somehow, even in moments of heightened tension like this one, you found yourself spacing out and losing small chunks of time. You hadn’t even noticed you’d zoned out at first, and you certainly hadn’t intended to, but you realized you’d missed the last minute or so of the Class Trial. In circumstances like this, not catching a minute’s worth of conversation could have been a deadly mistake.

“Without my room key, I couldn’t have possibly put the locker key in there myself.”

Kirigiri was still debating Byakuya’s claim that she must’ve killed Mukuro, as the key to the locker holding the believed murder weapon was found in her room. Thankfully, that meant you couldn’t have missed anything too revolutionary. You took this to be reassuring and allowed your gaze to deviate from the two arguing over to the brown haired boy standing at the podium beside yours. The trial was in full swing and Makoto looked as pensive as everyone in the room did, but he still remembered to keep a tight, reassuring grip on your hand as you stood in the space next to his. While preoccupied with pinning the culprit, there was still a part of his mind focused on comforting you. 

“Does no one have any objections? Do you accept what Kirigiri is saying?” 

After receiving only silence , Byakuya sighed. “I see. We have no choice but to accept it. It wasn’t Kirigiri who put the locker key in her room, but someone else.”

“But.. who is ‘someone else’? Toges, you had Kiri’s key, right?” Hiro questioned. 

“Yes, but I have an alibi. After 10 p.m., I was with you all. It’s not possible for me to have murdered Mukuro Ikusaba or to have put the key in Kirigiri’s room.”

“Then who did put the key in Kiri’s room?” Byakuya was quick to answer Hiro again. “There’s only one reasonable possibility- He had the key with him and pretended as though he found it in Kirigiri’s room.” “You’re talking about... Naegi?” Aoi’s voice cracked a bit as she spoke, a look not unlike betrayal clouding over her soft features. 

“That’s the only explanation.”

“That’s not possible,” You spoke up without a second thought, though your voice was weaker than you had intended, “While we were investigating in the bio lab, Makoto gave me his jacket, and there definitely wasn’t anything in his pockets then. We went straight to the garden so he could meet with Byakuya after that, so he couldn’t have stopped to get it. If it wasn’t in his jacket, where else would he have been able to hide that bulky key without you noticing he had it?”

“Hm, I suppose that is a fair point. It would have been rather difficult to conceal it just beneath his shirt..” Byakuya looked away again in thought, seemingly satisfied with your reasoning.

“He actually took off his jacket? I didn’t think he ever took that thing off...”

“Oh yeah, he totally did! (Name) was still wearing it when they came into the garden! She even had her hands in the pockets,” Aoi confirmed to Yasuhiro, her voice brighter now that her friend didn’t seem like the culprit. 

“You had his jacket, (name)?” Kyouko raised her hand to her chin in thought, “It’s true that Makoto clearly didn’t have the key in his pocket when he gave her his jacket, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t in his pocket when he got it back.”

“Huh?” 

Other than Makoto, Kirigiri was the student you trusted the most. You’d covered for her multiple times, and followed her command even when you didn’t understand her motives or reasoning. You had offered to let her stay in your room with you last night when Byakuya confiscated her key. In a normal high school scenario, you wouldn’t have hesitated to call her one of your best friends. 

She couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought… right? 

“If the key wasn’t in his pocket this morning and he never stopped back at his dorm, he couldn’t have had it when the murder took place. Yet somehow it was in his pocket by the time he needed to plant it in my room,” she spoke with an almost chilling certainty. “There was only one person who would have had the opportunity to pass the key off to him in time.”

She sounded calm, not at all like someone accusing their friend of murder. 

“Hold on-” Makoto raised his hands defensively, unintentionally tugging the one in your grasp away rather harshly. He wasn’t happy when he was under suspicion, but now she was accusing you? 

But Kyouko didn’t yield. 

“Makoto was the only person who could have placed the key in my room, but there’s only one person who could have had it when Mukuro was killed. There’s also only one person that Makoto would be willing to cover for- his girlfriend.”

“What?!” you practically spit out your response. 

“H-hold on a second! That’s not what happened!” Makoto was reeling. “Let’s think things through again! There’s something at work behind the scenes here- there has to be! This whole class trial doesn’t make any sense, don’t you guys agree?! Mukuro Ikusaba, who we’d never seen before, suddenly shows up dead… and there’s a class trial for it?! A- and Kirigiri was saying, too, that this is all a trap set by the Puppetmaster! So it’s gotta be-” 

Monokuma’s shrill voice cut off Makoto’s desperate rambling. “Okay! Time’s up!”

“What?”

“Time’s uuuup! The Class Trial is oooover! So there’s no need to talk about anything else!” 

“W- what the hell? We’re out of time?” Makoto replied first, your reaction trailing quickly after. 

“Hold on, what do you mean? That’s not fair!”

“We’ve never had a time limit!” Suddenly even Kyouko looked panicked, her restraint and conviction having vanished as the trail was definitively ended. There was no going back. 

“All thanks to your tardiness, Kirigiri! ‘Cause of you, we were tight on time! With that said, you guys, it’s Ballot Time! Please cast your ballot using the switch in front of you!”

Makoto’s green eyes met yours as you both turned towards each other at the same time. The look of pure trepidation and disbelief etched onto his features must’ve mirrored yours perfectly. 

“Ballot… time?”

-

“I’m… the culprit?” your voice was soft, almost too quiet for even your boyfriend beside you to hear it. 

“N-no, that’s not right, guys-” Makoto was immediately shaking his head in shock and confusion, his hand reaching out for yours again desperately as he tried to make a last minute plea for them to believe him. Your words cut him off though, the panic fully setting in. 

“That’s not right! I didn’t do it! Th- this doesn’t make any sense!” 

“It’s time for another super exciting, heart-pounding punishment!!”

Your gaze directly snapped to Kirigiri, who looked even paler than usual- as if the weight of what her lies had caused was setting in. You’d had her back this entire time, and she blamed you. She framed you.  “W- why me?”

“I have no illusions for earning your forgiveness, because all of this is my fault..” her response was simple and to the point, just like her answers always were. She was acting like she usually did, except that she’d just betrayed you in the most brutal way possible. 

“Kirigiri, tell them-” Makoto made his own frantic appeal for her to clear this up, to do anything to stop them from ripping you away from him. He moved urgently, throwing his arms around you and clutching you to his chest. They couldn’t just execute you when you weren’t the actual culprit, right? This wasn’t how this game was supposed to be played. 

Yet Monokuma insisted, and you were forcefully dragged away from your boyfriend’s secure embrace. 

“Let’s get the ball rollin’! It’s punishment time!”

You have been found guilty. Time for the punishment! 

The sharp fibers of the ropes around your legs and wrists dug into your skin, dispelling any chance you had at convincing yourself that this was just some bad dream. You could feel the frayed rope stabbing your skin, the sputtering of the conveyor belt below your desk, the shake that spread through the room with every 

Thud 

thud

thud

Of the giant machine pounding into the ground behind you. 

Almost against your own will, you were flailing against the chair, screaming and sobbing, begging for help. No one could help you, no matter how hard you screamed, and flailing only made the sharp rope cut into your skin more than it already was. 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to end. You’d promised Makoto that the two of you would take down the Mastermind and get out of here together, yet somehow, you’d ended up in the execution chair. For a crime you didn’t commit. This was it, this was how you went. You had lost and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You were going to be blackened, and you had to accept it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to calm yourself, though your chest still shook with sobs. 

You thought of Makoto. You thought of how he’d been so reassuring and supportive during your time here. How he’d pull you into his side when you got too overwhelmed, or hold your hand when you investigated together. How warm he felt when he’d squeeze you into a tight hug, or how nice his jacket smelled when he let you wear it. How he could never tie his uniform tie correctly. How he had looked at you with pure love in his eyes that day while lying together under a sakura tree outside of the school, with the warm sun filtering through the petals onto your skin… when had that happened?

But a sudden new sound startled you and you opened your eyes without thinking. The heavy foot of the machine had frozen, and was now giving off a grating buzzing noise as if it was trying with all its power to still move, to still crush. 

You almost missed it in your surprise, but out of the corner of your eye you caught a familiar face flash onto the screen in front of you. Alter Ego? 

Then you were falling. The foot had stopped, but the conveyor belt had kept going and the desk rolled off of it, sending you flying backwards into the dark. 

Your eyes opened slowly, fogginess swelling in your mind as you tried to remember what happened and where you were.  Unfortunately, it only took a few moments for the violent memories of the trial and execution to come flooding back to you. The crushing block had halted, but then you fell backwards, still tied tight to the old wooden desk. Splintered bits of that desk lied around you, seemingly having shattered on impact. That same impact must've knocked you unconscious, but you were most definitely alive. Alter Ego had stopped the execution. 

You weren’t sure where you had ended up at first; it wasn’t a part of the school you’d seen before. Considering the rancid smell and large piles of garbage, there was really only one place it could be- the bottom of the trash chute. 

Pushing through the pounding headache pulsing from your neck, you stood to your feet to study your surroundings. Did you still have to watch out for Monokuma and the Mastermind, or had they presumed you to be dead? Had they all presumed you to be dead? Naturally your thoughts returned to Makoto- had he assumed you were dead? That thought made you feel even more nauseous than you had been from your probable concussion. There was a chance that everyone had written off trying to help you, even your boyfriend. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t stop looking for you until he was absolutely certain you were gone, but your frayed nerves coaxed you to dwell on that feeling, that despair, of being totally forgotten. 

Salty tears slipped onto your lips, the sudden taste snapping you back to reality a bit. You hadn’t even realized you were crying at first. What was the point of crying now? That wasn’t going to accomplish anything other than intensifying your dehydration. The only productive thing you could do was to search for food, water or a way out. 

The large door at the front of the room was bolted shut. Of course it was. All of the food was rotten. Of course it was. With no way out and no food to eat, the only thing you could do was to give into the exhaustion- both mental and physical. 

So you slept. You hadn't really slept since this killing game had started, and though this wasn't any less tense of a situation, it was the first time in a while where there wasn't anything to do. There was no investigating to do or people to watch out for. Down here, the only thing you could do was feed that need to sleep. 

A loud thud shook the ground and startled you awake, your eyes immediately scanning the area cautiously. Nothing looked different at first, but you were certain that something heavy had just fallen down. Then you noticed that all too familiar green jacket peeking out of what must have been a new pile of trash bags. 

"M- Makoto?!" 

He groaned for a second, trying to recover from the rough landing, before his green eyes flickered open. They met with yours, and somehow, even in this twisted situation, his gaze still made your heart race. 

"(Name)! You're okay!" The clumsy boy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, trying not to slip on the trash he'd fallen down with. He barely wasted a second to steady himself before throwing his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as tightly as he could.  

It almost didn't feel real, like maybe you'd hallucinated him out of desperation and hunger from the last day or so of being down here alone. You hugged him back just as tightly, as if he might slip away if you didn't cling to him. Despite the lingering scent of trash around you, he still smelled as comforting and nice as you remembered. He still ran his fingers through your hair soothingly like he usually did. He still felt like home. 

He was really here, he'd come to save you. 

After a few moments of clinging to each other in silence, he lifted his fingers from your hair, a soft gasp leaving his lips. “Your head was bleeding?”

“I guess I landed wrong,” you tried to joke, though your laugh was breathy and unconvincing. Your dizziness and headache implied a concussion, but you weren’t ready to volunteer that information to him yet. In turn he pulled away to look you over completely

 “You look so much better than I expected though! I kinda thought maybe you wouldn't be..." He didn't dare finish that thought. He'd come entirely too close to losing you too many times for him to even say it out loud anymore. "I was really worried about you." 

"I wasn't sure you'd come after me," you confessed softly, burying your face in his shoulder as you leaned into him again. 

"I'll... always come after you." He pressed an endearing kiss to your messy, splayed hair as a flustered blush set in on his cheeks. Even after going through all of this together and being together like you had, Makoto still got embarrassed from affection and admitting his feelings so blatantly.

“I brought you food and water.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You reached out to grab what he was holding immediately. Simple bread and water had never seemed so delicious. 

After waiting for you to finish eating, which admittedly didn’t take very long, he laced his long fingers with yours. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here.”

“How? That door is locked and there’s no way we can climb high enough to go back out through the trash chute..” 

He flashed you that knowing, assured grin that you loved so much. It couldn’t have been more than a few days since you’d seen him, but seeing him smile at you like that again was enough to make you want to cry and cling to him tighter than you ever had before. Had there been no rush to get out of this hole, you would’ve done just that. 

His free hand disappeared into his jacket pocket for just a second before returning into sight with a shiny silver key in its grasp. 

“Kirigiri… gave you the Monokuma key?” After her dedicated attempt to frame you in the last trial, you weren’t too hopeful that she would be helpful in rescuing you. “Why?”

“It’s… a long story, that she wants to tell you herself, but she’s really close to figuring everything out. She’s the one who snuck me into the trash room and down the chute,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand. “She’s waiting to let us out through the trapdoor there now. On the other side of that door there should be a ladder that leads back up.”

“She’s almost found the Mastermind?”

He nodded earnestly.

“Good. I want to get out of this stupid school. I want us to get out together.”

“Me too,” he promised softly, “But right now we have to get you out of this horrible place.”

[thechosenferret]

Of Course it’s Precious Potter - Chapter 2

Summary: Draco has been tasked to steal a possession from precious Prince Potter. Little does he know, that's only a small test for what they need done next. Well, that is if Draco can carry it out to the end.

You can also read it on ao3 under the username TheChosenFerret (there’s a link in my bio, I don’t trust tumblr with links in original posts), or through my tag #Of Course it’s Precious Potter

_______________

Not wanting to give the world the opportunity to catch him in possession of a royal artifact, Draco went immediately to hover near the designated meeting spot to wait for his clients. 

It felt like hours had passed before a reasonably dressed man showed up only looking slightly uncomfortable. Draco waited a few minutes to make sure he was alone before dropping carefully to the ground. 

“Are we done here?” Draco asked, handing the guy the trophy, ready to walk away the moment he said yes. 

The guy surveyed the item briefly, getting his confidence back. “Actually, there’s one more mission you’re needed for. Bring your company and go to the second meeting spot.” Then, taking Draco’s opportunity for a dramatic exit away from him, he practically disappeared when the sun came up to blind Draco for a moment.

______

The light streamed in, hitting Harry in the face, sufficiently waking him up, only then to have a few loud knocks on the door that do nothing but remind him of his guards. 

Harry hurried through his morning routine, making sure that he at least gave an attempt at his outfit today before he ran down to the kitchen for breakfast, eager to get there early and not have to interact with people, especially today. It seemed everyone else had the same idea, casting him glances whenever they thought he wasn’t looking, but otherwise leaving him alone. 

Not before long, Harry was put on a carriage with the rest of the Dursleys, no long in the comfort of people ignoring him. Well, at least ignoring him in a considerate way. 

“Do we have to go to this?” Dudley pouted, fiddling with the button on his suit, angering the threads on the process. 

“We wouldn’t have to if Harry could just suck it up and get over it like the rest of us.” Vernon stared at Harry as he finished, trying to make his maddened gaze sink into Harry. It wasn’t effective, however, as Harry just kept his head down, trying his hardest to go over the speech a bit in his head. Even if ignoring his “family’s” taunts were going to harm him more in the end, he just really couldn’t handle trying to listen to them right now. 

Thanking Merlin that they arrived before the Dursley’s got angry enough to do something about it, Harry emerged from the carriage last, immediately trying to hide in the crowd of workers before he had to be responsible again. That didn’t last very long, however, as the workers then had to disperse to their places, leaving Harry with no barrier from the public’s eye. As soon as the nearby crowd noticed him, he straightened up and made his way to the raised area. 

It figures that the most he would get for the event was a single wooden box. Whenever Dudley wants to make a ludicrous announcement, he always gets access to the great hall, no matter how sudden it may be. However, Harry’s yearly speech only warranted a box that likely was or is full of cabbages. 

Harry unfolded his speech from his pocket, not that he needs it, he’s stressed and practiced it so much that it was gonna be stuck in his head for a long time. This is the single event that actually means something to him, and he’d be damned if he lets it fail, especially with Dudley eagerly waiting for him to mess something up. 

Harry began the speech as soon as silence fell over the good sized crowd. It was slightly smaller than last year, but he always holds out hope that it will get bigger once he starts. He didn’t have to glance at the Dursleys to know that they’ve already returned to the carriage, most likely to complain about how filthy the public is and throw in a few jabs at Harry. 

“Hello. Thank you all for coming out this morning. As you all know, my parents, former King and Queen Potter, died today 18 years ago. While I do not wish to bring up those memories again for you, I know that it is needed in order to keep their memory alive, and make sure that what they put energy into isn’t in vain. For instance, the last act they made before that day—the Family Act—to reduce the amount of kids alone in poverty—” Harry glanced at the carriage once again “—Has recently been conversed about in an effort to overrun, but it is yet to be decided…”

At some point during his speech, Harry couldn’t help but notice amongst the crowd the same set of blonde hair from his dreams. He didn’t have time to think about the logicality of him being here before he realized his brain was speaking on auto-pilot for too long, and that if he wanted to not make a giant mistake he would need to actually look at his notes again. By the time he looked back up, the hair was gone. 

______

Draco doesn’t know why he did it, let alone stay long enough to listen, but he stopped at the edge of the crowd surrounding the precious Prince. As he listened, he silently cursed himself for not bothering to check what day it was. The anniversary of the attack on the Potters. Nonetheless, Draco stayed and listened as Potter recounted their accomplishments and sprinkled in silent jabs at the rest of the castle whenever needed. 

Everything was going good until the Prince’s eyes landed on him, making Draco tense up. All he could do now was keep his eyes down (with a few brief glances up to see if he was safe), hoping that the prince didn’t notice him. Potter stared for too long for comfort before finally glancing at his paper again. Scared that this time Potter’s gaze would never leave him, he ducked down out of view and booked it. Realistically, Draco knew that he really really should not have done that, especially with him now both being late to the meeting but also having been spotted by the Prince, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

______

Draco slipped into the designated meeting spot, hoping that if he was quiet enough his tardiness would go unnoticed. For once, it seemed that luck was on his side until he caught the side of his father who in return seemed to stare right into his soul, clearly sending the message that they will have to have a little “talk” about this in the future. 

Draco tried to ignore that for the time being, instead casting his attention on the room. This was always his least favorite spot to meet with the way spiders can never be fully banished from it’s corners and it always smelled a bit like a rotten egg no matter how long it’s been since food has dared exist in this dump. It’s the price that must be paid with this being their most secure spot. 

Around the room, he could see the rest of his company planning amongst themselves, waiting for the next assignment to arrive. In the middle of it all was his parents chatting and making notes with Bellatrix who seemed too delighted with herself as always. Most of the lower level members still went with wearing their mask all the time, but lately many have taken more of an ease with only wearing it when talking to the founder. Draco wasn’t complaining with that however, it always made his airflow too restricted to feel at all comfortable. 

Soon enough the same man from the alleyway appeared and walked straight to the middle of the room, not saying anything before handing Lucius a letter. He stared at it, taking in the meaning before handing it to Narcissa who now had Bellatrix reading the letter at the same time over her shoulder. “20,000,” Bellatrix spoke up, moving to stand next to Lucius. 

“15,000,” the man replied, staring Bellatrix down. 

“21,000... for the argument,” Lucius added.

“No can do. My max is 15,000.”

“18,000. That’s the lowest,” said Narcissa. Clearly seeing that the man was still trying to work out a way around the price, she added, “This is the prince after all.”

“Deal. 18,000.” The man took out an envelope and hid it back behind his jacket for a second, his lips giving away the fact that he’s counting. After he handed the envelope to Lucius, he left immediately. His swift exit then sparked the same idea in everyone’s head as people started to exit through all the different pathways. Lucius handed Draco the first letter as he passed by, clearly intending for this to once again be his job to carry. 

As he read its contents, all Draco could do was laugh at the fact that Potter had a diary. Technically, it was referred to as a journal, but diary is a close enough word. Draco made his way back home, hand tight on the letter, ready to get some sleep before he had to think more about making a plan for the following day.

_____________

Taglist: @devilrising @sweetlialia @ladyseidenlocke

[xxisxxisxxis]

Deleted Scenes: Gateway Drug

Hey guys, thank you so much for being interested in these!! I decided to do this because I want something for you guys to have while waiting in between chapters so I'll be posting around 2-3 after each update before each new chapter. They are in no particular order of year (the year they take place will be included) and will vary in length.

Most of them are telling as to where in the story they were meant to fit in but ultimately got cut--this first one is from the beginning if Vivs and Nikki's friends with benefits/relationship grey area where they weren't exclusive but also didnt have interest in anyone else.

Also (something I imagine you guys will enjoy) a few of the "deleted" scenes are scenes I've written for the future that I'm not sure will make it in the final cut or not.

Tag List: @unknownoblivion  @edwardtriggerhandzz  @lemmyjelly  @haileynicoleseavey17  @cierrasixx19  @oskea93  @mgkobsessed  @sharon6713  @itsametaphorbriansblog  @miriampraez  @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx  @rebeccaphillips14  @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie  @tamedhearts  @divaanya  @6ixx6ixx  @ratedrkohardychick91  @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog  @thanks2pete  @abaldboi  @liith-ium  @caos18blog  @ytwahsog  @scarecrowmax  @random-internet-user-4471  @solohqrry  @sparxx27  @kaitieskidmore1  @cruecifymesixx    @meetthesixxter   @sublimeprincesswasteland  @arianareirg  @girlnight-terror

@fancywasmyname1  @teller258316  @ggorehorror  @blowinmeupwithherlove  @xrosegoldwolfx  @mylifeisjustafeverdream  @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1

"The Pastor Delivered Quite the Message" -- [1981]

"Shit, shit, shit." I curse to myself, hurrying to pull my panties back on as I eye the clock in Nikki's room while he chuckles, sitting up on the ratty mattress on the floor. 

"Is that the distant cousin of what you were just screaming three minutes ago: 'fuck, fuck, fuck'?" He asks smartly.

"Cut the crap, Sixx, night service ended fifteen minutes ago. If I'm too late to the house, my parents will know I didn't go and will start grilling me and then you'll never get to hear me scream anything again because my mother will kill me." I state and he gets out of bed and pulls his pants back on while I'm getting my shoes on, grabbing my jacket and my purse. "Where's my keys?" I ask him next, slight panic in my voice. "Nikki, where are my keys, I put them right here with my purse and now--" 

I quit talking when I hear him jingle my keys behind me, and I turn to see him standing, leaned against the wall with my keys in his hands, a smug smirk on his face. 

I sigh out in relief, stepping to him, reaching for my keys but he pulls his hand back. 

"Ah, ah." He raises his brows, scoldingly, and I roll my jaw. 

"I don't have time for your games, Nikki. Give me my keys." I demand. 

"Ask nicely." He cuts his eyes at me, teasingly, and I roll my jaw. 

"May I have my keys, please?" I humor him but he still doesn't give them back. "Nikki--"

"--Nicer." He chuckles and I reach for them anyway, but he keeps them out of reach. 

"Nikki," I start, wrapping my arms around his bare torso, smiling prettily up at him, "can I have my keys back, please?" I add some sarcastic blinking to finish with a cherry on top and he smiles deviously, hugging me to him, his lips brushing against mine, his fingertips brushing against my back as he replies, "'please', what?" 

My face turns bright red and I swat at his chest as he starts laughing. 

"I am not calling you that outside of sex. Ever. So do not start." I tell him, unable to hold back my smile as he hands me my keys but grips my wrist, pulling me to him to give me a kiss. 

"See ya later." He tells me and I nod, kissing him chastely one last time before rushing to my car, hoping I don't run into Vince and Tommy in the parking lot. 

When I get home, I'm quickly getting out of my car, but also trying to do so quietly, incase by chance my parents went to bed before church service got out.

I'm hoping that's the case as I unlock the door and tentatively open it, careful not to do it too quick or the hinges will squeal. 

All the lights are off, and I thank God before closing the door, taking my shoes off and tip toeing to the stairs. 

As I get to the first step, I hear my dad clear his throat and I freeze, my spine sharpening as I slowly look in his direction, seeing him sitting in the living room in his chair, this morning's paper in hand, with the TV on mute, the only light in the room coming from the small book light on the coffee table. 

He's ready for bed, obviously staying up to make sure I got home safely. 

"H-Hey, Dad." I try to play it off, slowly stepping down the stairs and into the living room doorway.

"How was service?" He asks me, marking through another word on the word search in the paper.

"Just as good as it was this morning." I lie, smiling innocently.

"That's good." He nods, circling another word with his pencil. 

"Is, um...mom, is she--"

"--Been in bed for a couple hours, now. Doctor thinks her sinus infection is coming back." He informs me. 

"Oh." I nod, raising my brows slightly, seeing this as my opportunity to go get ready for bed. "Well, um, I'm gonna go get ready for bed." I tell him, slowly making my way back to the steps. 

"Alright, sweetheart." He replies, taking his reading glasses off and putting them on the coffee table as he stands up to go to bed, himself, and I start to my room. "Oh, and, Viv?" He asks me and I stop and look at him where he's standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Yes, sir?" I ask and he steps up the stairs to me.

"I imagine the reason for your tardiness had to do with taking a moment in the parking lot to fully digest the sermon." He tells me. "Even though I've never heard of a sermon being so riveting it caused one's clothes to turn inside out." He adds, and I glance down to see my dress is obviously wrong-side-out, and he looks at me with knowing eyes. "Guess the pastor delivered quite the message." He finishes, kissing my forehead as he steps past me. "I love you. G'night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." He sighs out sleepily as he heads to his bedroom. 

[cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale]

His Little Witch~~Part 1

MASTERLIST

Main Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Background Pairings: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood x Neville Longbottom, James Potter x Lily Potter, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson

Chapter Warnings: Possessive!Tom Riddle, Soulmates, AU, CANON DIVERGENCE, Minister of Magic Tom Riddle, Out of Character Tom Riddle, nice Tom Riddle, Dumbledore and Tom get along, sane Tom Riddle

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m so happy to be posting again! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic and I hope you all enjoy it. Please do read the warnings and if they offend you or it seems like something you aren’t into please don’t read! Also, the Reader is 18! Happy reading everyone!

————————————————————————

“Why is the Minister of Magic coming to our Halloween feast?” Ron asks, trying to fix the dress robes he hates.

“To show good relations between Hogwarts and the Ministry. Honestly, it’s just a PR stunt. But we get to dress up and have a bigger party than normal so I’m not complaining.” Hermione replied, and with a quick flick of her wand transfiguring Ron’s old, hideous dress robes into normal black ones like Harry’s. Ron gives his soulmate a grateful look before pulling her into his arms and placing a hard kiss on Hermione’s lips.

“Ok, ok you two we get it, you’re soulmates. Jeez, you two are as bad as Harry and Ginny.” You chuckle while rolling your eyes at them. 

Your best friends had all found their soulmates, Hermione and Ron, Harry and Ginny, Neville and Luna, hell even Draco Malfoy, the biggest git of them all had found his soulmate (Pansy Parkinson). But you were still searching. It was hard being one of the only seventh years at Hogwarts without a soulmate, scratch that THE ONLY seventh year at Hogwarts without a soulmate. You were trying to hold out hope but it was difficult when every other person in your year had found their soulmates. Most of the fifth and sixth years had found theirs as well. 

“Oh just you wait, Y/L/N, I bet once you meet your soulmate the two of you will be all over each other.” Hermione teases as she pulls away from Ron.

“If I ever meet him.” You mutter hoping her, Ginny and Luna wouldn’t hear. But they did of course.

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N! You will find your soulmate soon!” Ginny yelled as she rushed across the room towards you.

“You will find him when you least expect it.” Said Luna’s misty voice.

“Don’t you dare give up hope!” Hermione shouts.

“Guys calm down. Imagine how Y/n feels, seeing everyone else happy with their soulmate and she’s all alone. It’s got to be hard to have to keep the hope up. While we all know she'll find him, it probably gets hard to remember. We love you Y/n/n and we know you will find your soulmate but it’s ok if you need us to help you keep the faith. That’s what friends are for.” Harry says, giving her a quick hug.

“Thanks, Harry. Alright, we better get going.” You reply trying to stop the tears from spilling. Your familiar Boo, an all-white cocker spaniel poodle mix, came up and licked your stray tear away. Normally dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts however given the connection you shared Dumbledore and McGonagall made an exception.

“Yes please, I’m starving,” Ron answers, putting his stomach. Hermione slaps his arm.

“You’re always hungry!” She giggles happily. The seven of you, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna (Luna had gotten ready with you), and you all walked down from Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall.

As you approach the Great Hall you get an odd feeling in your stomach, like butterflies. Could it be that you might meet your soulmate tonight? People didn’t have external markers to show who your soulmate was, everyone always said they just knew. Love at first sight and all that. You push the feeling away not wanting to get your hopes up. 

“You lot over here, now!” You heard Professor McGonagall yell at you and your friends. You knew you were a little later than you should’ve been but didn’t think it would be a big deal. Boy were you wrong.

“20 points each from Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw respectively,” she whispered yells at all of you. “For your tardiness, need I remind you the Minister of Magic is coming tonight. He will be here any minute and the students are supposed to be seated by now. Hurry along!” She turns and the rest of your group heads towards the Hall but you’re stuck in place. Something is holding you in place and then he walks in. 

You had seen pictures of course but nothing could compare to the real-life image of him. He was extremely dashing, he had hardly aged from his Hogwarts years. Looking just as dashing as ever at his mid to late 30s. 

“Y/n, let’s go,” Ginny whispers, trying to urge you to follow them but you can’t. 

It’s him, it has to be. Just then a look of realization comes across his face and he looks around until his eyes land on you.

“Miss Y/L/N, get into the Hall.” Professor McGonagall commands, looking slightly embarrassed that one of her students is making googly eyes at the Minister of Magic. What McGonagall failed to notice was the Minister making those eyes right back at the Gryffindor girl. 

“Minister Riddle, I apologize profusely for Miss Y/L/N’s behavior, she is usually such an exceptional girl, I have no idea what has gotten into her.” McGonagall huffs in annoyance and slight embarrassment. But Tom waves her off and walks towards you.

“Hello, I’m Tom. You are?” He asks simply enchanted by his soulmate. You were his soulmate. He had been searching for you for so long and he finally found you. 

“Y/F/N.” You whisper shocked. The most powerful (and handsome) wizard in your world was your soulmate.

“Well, Tom I guess you finally found her after all these years.” Dumbledore chuckles. He and Tom hadn’t gotten along well Tom’s first few years at Hogwarts, however, by his sixth year, the two were incredibly close. Tom has shifted his focus from merely mastering the Dark Arts to mastering them in order to fight them. He had become the greatest Auror the Ministry had seen and eventually the Minister of Magic.

“Found who? Albus, what is going on?” Professor McGonagall asks, confused.

“Minerva, Albus, I would like you to meet my soulmate,” Tom replies, not taking his eyes off of you.

“WHAT?” Your friends all shout in shock. 

“He’s my soulmate.” You reply turning back to your friends with a smile.

“You lot go take your seats this instant,” McGonagall commands your friends, still shocked. Your friends comply though their jaws are practically on the floor.

“Make sure there is a place for Y/F/N next to me at the head table please.” Tom requests of McGonagall who rushes into the Great Hall to make sure there is a seat for her beside Tom.

“Albus, I would like it if she enters with me and we announce that she is my soulmate tonight. What year are you darling?” He asks tucking back a stray piece of your hair.

“I’m in my seventh year.” You answer blushing at the heated gaze he is giving you.

“And your family?”

“My parents died a year ago. My mum was a witch and my father a muggle. They left me a sizable inheritance, I have a loft in Diagon Alley where I stay in the summers. It’s just me and Boo now.” You reply, startled when his eyes go slightly red.

“Who is Boo?” He asks harshly.

“My dog, he’s my familiar.” You explain the fire in his eyes dying down. 

“Thank Merlin.” He murmurs before pulling you closer and pressing his lips down against yours in a hard, possessive kiss.

“Jealous handsome?” You ask jokingly when he finally lets you up for air.

“You have no idea darling.” He answers, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“Headmaster, Minister, we are ready whenever you are.” Professor Flitwick announces as he emerges from the Hall. He shoots you and Tom a curious glance but says nothing and walks back into the hall.

“Well Tom, Miss Y/L/N, shall we?” Dumbledore asks motioning you into the Great Hall. Tom keeps his arm around your shoulders and tucks you in close to his side. 

The three of you enter the Great Hall and when you do you hear a number of gasps and shocked looks on everyone’s faces, students and professors alike. Your friends however just look confused and slightly worried but you shoot them a smile and nod slightly hoping to ease their concerns. 

Dumbledore leads you and Tom to the front of the hall and stands at his podium. Tom stands beside Dumbledore and moves his arm from your shoulders, holding your hand instead. 

“Happy Halloween everyone! It’s an extra special Halloween as we have our esteemed Minister of Magic joining us. I believe he has a few things he would like to say to you.” Dumbledore says as he ushers Tom over and steps off to the side. Tom walks over towards the podium dragging you by your hand along with him.

“Hello, Hogwarts students and staff. It is my great pleasure to be here with you all this Halloween. I also have a very special announcement for you all this evening. I have found my soulmate at long last. This beautiful young lady next to me, Y/F/N Y/L/N is my soulmate. Now let the feast commence!” He says with that signature smirk of his. He guides you towards the head table, where he pulls out a chair for you and then sits down next to you, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. Dumbledore claps his hands twice and the food appears on everyone’s tables. Instead of the usual house tables, there were smaller circular tables for smaller groups of people to sit. 

“So you mentioned that your parents passed away?” Tom asks hesitantly looking at you.

“Yeah, they were in an accident last summer, car crash. But they left me a small fortune, my mother was from an old pureblood family to which she was the sole heir. I have a small loft in Diagon Alley, for in the summers. But other than that it’s just me and Boo. He’s the cutest little puppy.” You explain with a smile.

“I’m sorry for your loss. But you needn’t worry about that loft anymore. If you give me the address I can send some of my people to collect your things and move them to my manor.” He offers before taking a bite of his food. 

“Oh, that’s not necessary-“ you say before he cuts you off.

“Yes, it is. After the feast tonight we shall move you into my manor.” He announces as if it's a fact.

“Excuse me. What about Hogwarts?” You ask slightly annoyed that he seemed to have everything planned without even bothering to run it past you.

“We can have tutors brought in to help you finish the rest of your schooling if you really want to. Or you don’t have to finish at all if you don’t want to.” He says as though it’s common sense.

“I want to finish at Hogwarts though. I want to graduate with my friends.” You argue. While he may be your soulmate and the Minister of Magic that didn’t give him the right to demand you quit Hogwarts.

“We can discuss it later.” He replies dismissively. You know he has no intention of changing his mind but he doesn’t want to argue right after meeting you, let alone in front of everyone. 

The two of you talk all through dinner and the rest of the staff stares on in amazement. Most of them had taught Tom while he was at school or had heard a lot about him. And in all their years of knowing him they had never seen him smile, he always had a smirk but never a genuine smile. Until now. After dinner and before the dancing began Dumbledore and Tom had another announcement to make.

“This year the ministry has decided to once again host the Triwizard tournament. Our friends from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be joining us tomorrow afternoon. During the next week, you will have a chance to decide if you wish to compete in the tournament. Minister Riddle has a few things to add.” Dumbledore says allowing Tom to take the stage.

“We have decided that only students 17 or older may compete. I understand many of you will be upset and disappointed in this decision. However, I would like to stress that this is an incredibly dangerous tournament. These tasks are designed to test you, the tasks are not easy, and you could be seriously hurt or even killed. Therefore we are limiting it to of age students only, who we believe are best able to make that decision for themselves. If it goes well, we may decide to continue having the tournament in future years and then you all will have the chance to participate, should you wish to. Happy Halloween everyone! I cannot wait to see you all at the selection of champions and then at the tasks. Good luck to you all!” He announces before turning around and heading towards you. He bows before you and offers you his hand.

“May I have this dance my darling?” He asks with a cheeky grin.

“But of course my love.” You reply, taking his hand and the two of you join everyone else dancing.

“So the Triwizard Tournament, eh?” You ask slightly stunned by the announcement you were sure that Harry would enter and probably Ron and maybe even Ginny. You, however, weren’t really interested in competing but you were excited to witness it.

“Yup, I was a Triwizard champion you know. But the year after I won, a champion died so it was suspended. We’ve put new rules in place to hopefully prevent any future mishaps.” He explains holding you tight.

“Maybe I should put my name in huh?” You tease but as soon as the words leave your tongue Tom’s eyes blaze with rage.

“Absolutely not! I forbid it!” He growled, tightening his grip on you before pulling you off the dance floor. 

“I will not allow you to participate in such a dangerous event, ever. I will give you anything you could dream of as long as you stay safe. I will not allow you to be put in danger. Do you understand?” He says harshly, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Yes, Tom. I was only teasing, I don’t want to enter the tournament. I’m sorry I upset you.” You mutter looking down slightly ashamed. He just wanted to protect you and you had made him think you wanted to put yourself in danger.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted. It’s just, I waited so long to find you and I can’t allow anything to harm you.” He explains pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I understand. It’s ok.” You reply leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What do ya say we get out of here?” He asks with a smirk.

“And go where?” You ask with a chuckle.

“Our place.” He answers bluntly.

“Tom-“ you begin but he cuts you off.

“You are my soulmate. My place is your place now. Just for tonight at least. Tomorrow is a day off anyway and then it’s the weekend. We can work out arrangements for the rest of the year over the weekend. Get a plan together.” He phrases it like a suggestion but you already know better. Tom Riddle was a man who got exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted now was you.

————————————————————————

PART 2

[lysjeon]

0.3. my melody

— pairing: yoongi x reader

— genre: fluff | college au

— word count: 1.2K

— collab series by @dreamcatcherjiah & @lysjeon

“Don’t be nervous, you just have to choose one.” Y/N repeated Hoseok’s words as she walked inside the big music building.

By far this one was one of the biggest buildings on campus, if not the biggest, that only adding to her nervousness. As soon as she entered she worried she’d get lost and therefore, be late to her meeting with not only one but two professors, one of which she had never met. Even the thought of making the professors think that her tardiness meant she wasn’t serious about the collaboration making her stomach turn and mouth fill with a funny taste.

To say she was nervous was an understatement, although she knew she shouldn’t be. Not right now at least. This was just the first meeting of many she’d have to have in the next couple of months to prepare for the show, and she was sure this would be the simplest meeting she’d have.

Today she was just meeting who she was going to be working with. That was it.

She walked down the corridors of the building where she saw the occasional arrow sign vaguely pointing towards professor Nam’s office. Sometime along the way there, she had stopped following the signs in favour of following the beautiful melody coming from what she assumed was a practice room. The door wasn’t closed all the way, so she could hear the music clearly as she stepped closer to it. Not wanting to disturb the person who was beautifully playing, she went on her tippy toes to look at the player through the window on the door.

Immediately she was captivated by him. She watched his relaxed shoulders, then her eyes traveled down his arms until she reached his fingers that were pressing the keys with skilful ease. The room was dark apart from one light shining on the pianist from the far back of the room, making it hard to see his face, but even in the shadows she could tell his eyes were closed as he enjoyed and felt each note being played. She was entranced by the way he so effortlessly played what, in her opinion, was a hard piece. It was fast paced, making his fingers look like they were flying over the keys, yet he seemed so peaceful and calm.

“Y/N?” Her head snapped towards the voice that called her name, a slight blush covering her cheeks as Ms. Son had caught her spying on the guy. “I was wondering where you were,” she chuckled, “Come on, darling, we’re waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Son.” She apologized with a slight bow as she walked towards the professor, “I got distracted.” She admitted.

“I could see that.” The professor smiled cheekily as she started walking.

After taking some turns in the corridors- this building could double as a maze any time - the two of them reached professor Nam’s office, where he was standing with a polite smile at the door. She bowed politely at him and smiled as Ms. Son turned towards her.

“This is my star student I talked to you about.” Ms. Son bragged, making the other professor roll his eyes playfully, making the atmosphere less tense for Y/N.

“Let’s not waste this lady’s time, shall we go see the options?” Mr. Nam asked, already walking ahead of the two women.

“Options?” Y/N asked looking between the two professors, confusion clear in her voice. “I thought today I was meeting who I’ll be working with.”

Ms. Son chuckled and looked at her, “You are, darling.” She nodded, “But first you have to choose who you’ll be working with.”

“That’s right.” He agreed, “Ms. Son and I planned this project a while ago, so I had three of my best students compose their own piece for this. You will listen to the three pieces and choose which one you’d most like to dance to.” He explained.

She nodded quietly, biting her lip as the nervousness returned and made her palms start to sweat. Her professor noticed her slight change in posture and run her palm up and down her arm reassuringly, smiling when Y/N turned towards her.

The three of them then entered a big practice room where three people were sitting on the chairs to the side, them standing up immediately after seeing their professor and bowing towards him.

“These are some of my best students,” He proudly said turning towards her. “Im Minju,” He pointed towards a short haired girl, “Song Dohyeon,” He moved his finger a couple inches to point at a tall guy who smiled politely, “And finally but by no means least, Min Yoongi.” The last guy bowed politely towards her.

She frowned. She knew him, he was the guy her professor had caught her spying on. Unlike the other two, he seemed shy as the professor started talking to the three of them after introducing her to them. Minju and Dohyeon asked her and the professor questions, whereas Yoongi remained quiet and showed the smallest of smiles every time her eyes briefly met his.

She was intrigued by him and right then and there her mind was already made on who she would choose. She would never admit it out loud, and she reprimanded herself for choosing him without even listening to the other two, but after hearing him play earlier, how could she not choose him? He had captivated her with the way he played the piano so effortlessly, and no pianist had ever been able to do that and she had worked with a fair share of them over the years.

“Would any of you want to go first?” Mr. Nam asked, Minju raising her hand up as fast and high as she could. “Miss Im, go on.” He smiled.

The girl walked towards the piano placed to the side of the room and after releasing a big sigh she started playing her piece. It was fast paced and even though she tried, she could not imagine herself creating a choreography for the song or even dancing to it for her solo. After she was done, she bowed and walked towards where she was previously standing, softly elbowing Dohyeon who offered to go next.

Doheyon’s piece started soft but quickly turned fast. She was somehow surprised his piece was so versatile going from slow to fast paced various times until the piece came to an abrupt ending. When he finished, he turned around in the seat and smiled expectantly, most likely waiting for a praise from his professor.

“That was amazing, Mr. Song.” He finally gave in before turning towards Yoongi. “Mr. Min, your turn.”

Yoongi walked towards the piano slowly, as if nothing could ever rush him, and sat down the same way. His fingers softly hovered over the keys and Y/N could hear the short breath that left his lips before he started playing.

Unlike what she had heard him play earlier, this piece was rather slow and it filled her with the feeling of melancholy, the key of it sounding unlike anything she had ever heard before. He had her full attention as he played, yet he didn’t seem to mind or care, or even realize. She could see herself in him, in the way he got so lost in what he was playing that he forgot about his surroundings and just played. Seeing him play this only made her even more sure of her decision.

She was going to choose him.

🏷: @loveyoongles @acupfullofsuga @neocultishtech @salty-for-suga @mabel-k3 @listless-losers @crunchycrocodile @prdshobi @ambrietalksanddraws @biaisezabini @sugagimmesugar @hot-tae-with-suga @jeonqukie @anothershorthuman @chocobetterknot @magicshop-myg @amoreguk @snickerdoodlest @atulipandarose @cookiemonstermusic258 @randomkoalablog @lisaisnotfunny @kawaii-desv @ratking101 @super-btstrash-posts @elliemeetsevil @forkpops @sayanne @falsegodtae @clarrolx @btsxdoll @fruityy-juno

[adverb-slut]

Breakpoint (Fanfiction) Part 2/6 | Beelzebub

Sorry for posting this late, guys!  As you all know, this is a six-part story (only parts one through three are written so far) and focuses on each of the brothers (Satan being the exception since he was never an angel) breaking point in when they decided to rebel against their Father when they were angels up in the Celestial Realm.  

This specific chapter features Beelzebub and Lilith!

As always, you can read this story here on AO3.

Title:

Breakpoint

Summary:

These are the tales of when Belphegor, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Mammon, and Lucifer each decided to actively rebel against their Father and together incite the Great Celestial War.  

Genre:

Backstory/Lore

Rating:

T

Word Count:

3424

Additional Note:

This chapter chronicles the breaking point of Beelzebub!

Previous Chapter:

Read Chapter 1 | Belphegor here!

-

“Beel! ” Belphie’s eyes were steeped with betrayal.  “You said you’d come for me.  Where are you?”  

Beelzebub watched as his twin’s form disintegrated before his very eyes and reached toward him.  “I did, Belphie —I just couldn’t—”

“I’ve been waiting two years, Beel!" Belphie cried, more and more of his body disappearing into nothingness.  “ Two years!  We agreed to three weeks!  Are you even going to come for me at all? ”

“I’m coming, Belphie!” Beelzebub screamed, bolting out of bed and reaching forward as if to grab his missing brother’s hand.  His fingertips grasped nothing but air. He shivered, realizing it was just a dream—a dream that he’d had every day for the past two years.  

Two years.  That’s how long it had been since Beelzebub had seen his younger brother.  Two years since he’d left him on Earth, promising to come back at sunset three weeks later.  Two years since he’d gone to look for his brother after the three weeks were up, only to realize that Belphegor had moved around so much on Earth and was no longer in the same village that he’d left him.  Two years during which Beelzebub had spent every single waking moment of his eternal life when he wasn’t guarding Eden to look for his only brother in every human-inhabited region of Earth, forgoing most of his meals and sleep and taking only a few moments every night after searching to rest. 

He stared at the space next to him on his king-size bed where two years ago, Belphie would have slept and sighed.  He rubbed his eyes groggily—getting only ten minutes of sleep every night caused him to be perpetually tired—and looked at the golden clock that rested on his bedside table.  It read that it was dawn; the Guardians of Eden on the night shift would be almost done standing sentinel over the Garden by now. That meant it was almost time for him to get to work.

Beelzebub’s stomach growled in protest as he changed out of his sleeping tunic and into the pearly white robes and green sash that were his standard uniform.  His meal times had varied greatly in the two years that he had spent scouting the Earth for his brother. He could only afford to waste a few precious seconds on eating quick meals, none of which sustained him for very long.  

And today, since it was already so close to the time for his shift to start, he didn’t want to waste even a moment by grabbing something to eat. 

He raced toward the precipice of the Celestial Realm and launched himself off.  As soon as his feet left the cloud cover that made up the ground, he flapped his wings downward and began his descent toward the surface of Earth.

This trip always chilled Beelzebub to his very bones.  He could almost feel his hands curl underneath his brother’s arms as the two made their way to Earth—him to go guard Eden, and Belphie to go observe and interact with humans. 

He flew downward for a few moments before his feet touched the ground.  He walked north for several feet before he saw the silhouette of tall, imposing fruit trees and the other plants that made of the flora of the Garden of Eden.  

“Beelzebub!”  Adoniel greeted from the Garden’s entrance.  “You’re right on time.”

Chasan, the other angel on duty, saluted him.  “Good to see you.”  

“You, too,” Beelzebub replied.  “You guys can go; I’ll take it from here.”

As the two nighttime Guardians of Eden began to take their leave, Beelzebub glanced at the sky, searching for Tabris, the angel with whom he had shared the morning shift with for as long as the Garden of Eden had needed guarding.  Usually, Tabris arrived earlier than him, but today, he was nowhere to be seen.

Figuring the other angel had overslept, Beelzebub walked over to the entrance and stood erect, scanning the area in front of him for any intruders, as he always did.  

Several minutes passed by, and there was still no sight of Tabris.  Beelzebub began to worry; if his Father found out about his partner’s tardiness, there would be no doubt that he would be punished severely.  His Father wasn’t known for physically abusing His children for minor infractions like lateness, but the incensed lectures He gave were even worse than even the most abrasive whippings.  

As Beelzebub decided that today he would just have to do the work of two guards, he heard the sound of wings flapping.  He glanced at the sky, expecting to see Tabris, but instead, saw the figure of a female angel.

This angel was exceedingly beautiful, with long hair that cascaded down her back and features so fine that he had to wonder exactly how long his Father had spent fashioning her.  One thing, he noticed in particular, was her wings: they were massive and feathered, covered in jewels and various precious gemstones.  They were far too heavy to be of any practical use.  He figured that they were just ornamental.  He deduced that she must not be an angel that was usually sent down to Earth, else she would have been given functional wings, or none at all.

The woman angel caught him staring and blushed, tucking her wings behind her.  “Yeah, I wasn’t created to leave the Celestial Realm, much.” She fingered the gaudy feathers that adorned her back.  “They’re just supposed to look pretty.”

He then realized that she appeared familiar.  “Wait—you’re one of the Seraphim, aren’t you?”  No wonder she didn’t venture out of the Celestial Realm.  The seraphim were the most powerful angels—even more so than most Archangels—with beautiful voices.  They sat directly at the Throne of the Almighty, singing his praises day after day. 

“Yes, my name is Lilith.”  She reached out her hand, and he shook it.  “I’ve been assigned to be your fellow Guardian of Eden today.”

Beelzebub did a double-take.  Why in the world would God assign a mighty Seraph to do a menial guard job?  “What do you mean?” He looked around.  “What about Tabris?” When he saw the confused look on Lilith’s face, he elaborated, “He and I have been the morning guards of Eden for as long as I can remember.”

“You didn’t hear?  Tabris broke one of his wings yesterday.  He’s on bed rest for the next few days,” replied Lilith.

Huh.  Beelzebub hadn’t heard anything about his partner’s injury, but then again, he had been on full Belphie-searching mode, so he hadn’t had much time to pay attention to anything else.  He felt a twinge of guilt creep up but tried to focus on the matter at hand. “Ah, okay, but why you as his replacement?  You’re a Seraph—surely your worship is more important than this.”

Lilith blushed and wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “Well, I’m currently suspended.”

“What?  Why?” he asked, his eyes widening.  Seraphim were wildly devoted to their Father.  He couldn’t imagine one doing something to upset their Father so much that he would suspend them.

She took a deep breath and her blush deepened.  “Well, yesterday, my sisters and I were worshipping at the Throne, as usual, when I realized that one of the rhythms to the hymns that we were singing was written really off.  I first thought that maybe it was our fault and we were singing it wrong, but I checked and it was just written strangely.  So, I went to go take the music earlier today to Leviathan—you know, the Angel of Worship.”

Beelzebub could see where this story was going.  The Angel of Worship’s antics when it came to critiques of his praise songs were well-known.  “And he got angry with your comments, then went directly to Father, made it sound worse than it was, and got you in trouble,” he finished for her.  “Leviathan will do anything to make an excuse to go see Father directly.”

“He’s such a kiss-up, sometimes.”  Lilith shook her head and pulled out two spiced manna cakes from her orange sash.  

He couldn’t help but watch her unpeel the wrapper from the two cinnamon-and-clove flavored biscuits, his stomach growling loudly.  He blushed.

Lilith smiled and reached out her hand, offering him a cake.  “Want one?”

Beelzebub grabbed it, smiling and deciding that he definitely liked this angel.  The cakes were incredibly dry and were meant to be eaten soaked in milk and honey, but he was so hungry that he couldn’t care less and took a bite of the crumbly biscuit.  

“Sorry,” he apologized, his mouth filled with manna.  “I don’t get many chances to eat.”

She put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.  “I heard about your brother—everyone has. I mean, he’s the Angel of the Sabbath.  Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find him soon.”

Beelzebub sighed, suddenly not so hungry, but swallowing the rest of the cake, anyway.  “I hope so.”

Lilith noticed the change in his demeanor and poked him in the chest.  “You’re Beelzebub, right? You’re supposed to be one of the best guardians ever—teach me your ways!”

A hint of a smile curled on his face.  He could see that she was just trying to take his mind off of Belphie.  “Being a Guardian of Eden isn’t so hard. Our goal is to keep humans away from the Garden, but even more so, away from the Tree of Life in the middle.”  He pointed east from where they were standing, in the direction of the Tree. “The fruit from that Tree has the power to heal any kind of ailment—including the effects of old age.”

“I thought it was supposed to make humans immortal and to heal angels’ diseases.”

“The angel part is true but not the human one—that’s just a rumor we spread to deter them from trying to find it, considering some humans are content and relieved with their mortality.  The real power is that every time a human or angel consumes one, it cures them of whatever sickness they’re currently suffering from, even if it’s just the aches and pains that come with being old.”

“I got you.  Well, that sounds easy enough, Beel.”

Beelzebub swallowed at the nickname; it was something only Belphie had called him, but he was surprised that it sounded right coming from her lips, too.  “It is.”

They stood side by side, guarding Eden for several hours.  It was almost sunset, and Beel wanted to get a head start on searching for Belphie.  But, before he could say anything to Lilith, he noticed a figure coming up over the horizon, hunched over and carrying what appeared to be a person.

“Who’s that?”  Lilith asked.

Beelzebub readjusted his stance and frowned.  “An intruder.”

And he was right.  Ambling up to them was an emaciated man, his tattered loincloth dirty and covered in what looked like dried bloodstains.  In his arms was a young girl, her unwashed hair plaited, looking just as worse for wear as the man carrying her.

“Please,” the man pleaded, walking up to Beel, who looked on ahead of him stoically.  “My daughter—she’s very ill.”

A pang of guilt shot through Beel’s heart, but he had seen cases like this all the time.  And as usual, he knew he had to turn them away. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Oh, my goodness,” Lilith cried, rushing to the man’s side, taking the young girl out of his hands and cradling her herself.  Her eyes widened and filled with pity. “What happened?”

“Our camp was raided by another’s several weeks ago, and we have no food.  Yesterday, our chief’s wife found some herbs to eat, but when my daughter consumed them, she grew very sick, and she hasn’t woken up since, even though she is still breathing,” the man explained, his eyes filling with tears.  “Several moons ago, an angel visited us and told us that my daughter would be the savior of our camp, but if she does not survive, I fear that we will be left defenseless.”

Beel’s heart skipped a beat when the man mentioned another angel.  “What did the angel look like? Did he have black and white hair? With eyes like mine?  No wings?”

“No, no,” the man said, pausing to analyze Beel’s eyes.  “He had tan skin, with white hair and dark blue eyes, tinted with gold. He also definitely had wings.”

Beel could feel his heart drop.  He didn’t know who that Messenger Angel was.  “Well, either way,” he sighed.  “Sir, we can’t help you. You need to leave.”

Lilith glared at him as the man protested, “But sir, we need to get to the Tree of Life.  The shaman of our camp has tried everything to heal her, but nothing has worked. We know the fruit from the Tree can heal any kind of sickness.”

Beel didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that the man somehow knew the true nature of the Tree of Life and stamped his foot.  “No. No one is allowed in the Garden of Eden.”

“We can make an exception for you, though,” Lilith amended, stepping aside to let the man pass.

This time it was Beel who glared at her.  “No, we can’t.  Lilith, that’s what we’re here for: we have to make sure no one can get inside the Garden.”

“Beel!  This man is desperate.  We can’t let that little girl die—we can’t!  What kind of angels would we be if we did?”

He massaged his forehead.  “Lilith, we have our orders.  We can’t just go making exceptions for people based on how desperate they are.”

“Look at her,” Lilith argued, gesturing toward the man’s daughter.  “I don’t care what our orders are; we can’t just let this girl die on our watch.  I don’t think Father will be angry if what we’re doing saves a life.”

For someone who was supposedly so close to his Father, Lilith didn’t seem to understand that His orders were absolute and that there was no loophole that could be exploited which wouldn’t lead to severe punishment.  

Since Lilith had decided to be so adamant, Beelzebub tried a different tactic.  “Lilith, this man was told by one of our Messenger Angels that this girl would save her camp someday.  Just trust that God will heal her—you know that He doesn’t lie.”

He thought that that point would get her to calm down, but it was to no avail.  “She’s suffering now, Beel.  I can’t allow that.”  She gestured toward the man and motioned for him to enter the Garden. 

Beel shook his head in frustration.  “There’s no point in letting him in, anyway.  The Tree of Life is guarded by flaming swords.  He can’t get to it.”

The man’s face crumbled, but Lilith was quick to remedy the situation.  “I’ll do it. I’ll fly above the swords, and I’ll pick a fruit from the Tree and give it to him.”

Beel blanched.  “No. No, you won’t.”

“Yes.  I.  Will.”  And with that, Lilith raced into the Garden of Eden.

-

Three hours.  

That’s how long it had taken for all four Guardians of Eden—and one temporary one—to be summoned to his Father’s Throne Room after the young girl had taken a bite from the fruit of the Tree of Life and had been revived.  

In the future, it would take God another year to summon Belphegor for his tribunal, but it had only taken three hours for Him to call Beel for his.

Beelzebub kept his eyes down, not daring to look at his Father’s blinding, lighted presence.  He, Adoniel, Chasan, the broken-winged Tabris, and Lilith had just been instructed to rise after falling prostrate before the Throne of God.  

The three angels who had not been involved in the incident gave Beel confused looks, but he couldn’t meet their eyes.  He stared at the floor, trying to imagine he was anywhere but here. 

His Father’s Throne Room was a place of judgment, and usually, the verdict was nothing but guilty.  He tried to take his mind off his probably impending doom—surely his Father would blame him for not stopping Lilith as she flew above the flaming swords guarding the Tree of Life and picking its fruit—by listening to the glorious notes of the piano that Lucifer played from God’s left side.

The Archangel of Music’s eyes were closed, like the world was nothing more than him and his music, as his fingers deliberately played the solemn notes of a melody that he had created.  Lucifer never played any song twice, and he used no sheet music. Every song that he performed was an original piece that he made up on the spot, the notes coming so alive in his mind that they leaped out of his fingers into the most rapturous tune.  

“Beelzebub, Tabris, Adoniel, Chasan, Lilith,” boomed the Almighty.

“We are here, Father,” they chorused, bowing their heads.

“It has come to My attention that one of My Guardians has allowed a fruit to be picked from the Tree of Life.”  The glow of God’s glory receded and then flared back even brighter, signifying a spike in His anger. “Which one of you is responsible for this?”

Beelzebub knew that of course, his Father already knew who took the fruit; He was merely giving the culprit an opportunity to own up for their crime and apologize—not that it would make their punishment any less severe.

From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Lilith.  The normally upbeat Seraph had her eyes glued to the ground, a terrified look on her face.  He frowned in sympathy; facing her Father’s wrath twice in such a short period of time would be a horrifying experience—once was enough for most angels to ensure they never disobeyed again.  

And besides, it wasn’t as if Lilith had—apart from breaking orders—done anything wrong.  She had technically saved a life, just as she had mentioned before. 

Beel gulped as the silence from the five angels filled the room.  It was so suffocating that he didn’t know if Lucifer’s masterful playing was sufficient to overcome it.  He stepped forward. “I did it, Father.”

His Father’s furious light subsided in surprise.  “You, Beelzebub?”

Of course, God knew that it was not him who took the fruit.  But, Beel knew how his Father’s mind worked.  If Beel admitted to the crime, his Father would punish him for what he confessed and also punish him for lying, as well.  The Almighty still knew that Lilith had committed the crime, but Beel’s sacrifice for her would be enough to sate His anger, and she wouldn’t be punished at all.

His admission elicited shocked gasps from Adoniel, Chasan, and Tabris.  Lilith stared at him, her eyebrows downturned in agony. “No—” she began.

Beel interrupted her before she could get very far.  “—one expected this of me, right, Lilith? Well, they should have.  In fact, Father, I was not only the one who picked the fruit, but I ate it, too.”

“You ate the fruit, Beelzebub?”  his Father confirmed, even though He knew otherwise.  “You know not even angels are allowed to eat the fruit, as they can suffer ailments that can be healed, as well.”

Beelzebub gulped.  “Yes. You know I’ve spent many moons flying around Earth, searching for my twin brother, Belphegor, the Angel of the Sabbath.  In doing this, I haven’t gotten much time to eat, so in my desperation, I picked from the Tree and ate.”

“What gluttony you displayed, today, my son!  This appetite—so all-consuming that you would desecrate a sacred fruit for the pleasure of excess nourishment—this need for immediate gratification in the form of food, has caused you to disobey My orders and sin.”  The Almighty’s anger flared again. “You must be punished.”

“Yes, Father, you should punish me,” Beel replied, wringing the hem of his tunic nervously.  And punish me, and me alone, he added silently.

“This is your first offense, my son—I will make your retribution less severe, provided you understand the error of your ways.  Answer me, Beelzebub, do you regret what you did?”

Considering he hadn’t even committed any crime, Beel knew he couldn’t answer the question truthfully.  He turned his head to look at Lilith, whose eyes were overflowing with grateful tears, her hands over her mouth to drown out her sobs.  He knew that he would admit to the offense a hundred times if it meant she didn’t have to suffer for it.

So he answered the question in that context instead.

“No.”

[the-devil-herself]

Never Enough - Chapter 2

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 DESCRIPTION: Certain mates of Jotuns receive soulmate marks on their bodies. What happens when Loki’s mark is found on a girl with immense power? RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also available on AO3! The link is here as requested.  Please give me some feedback if you can, I love the inspiration it gives me. Also let me know if you want to be tagged! I’m going to post the first 22 chapters of this story over the next few days, and, hopefully, I will find my muse to write more.

TAGGED: @kneel-before-queen-loki

Present Day

Bang! Bang!

I let out a frustrated groan. I knew who it was. "I'll be out in a minute!" I yelled back. The banging only stopped for a minute before it began again.

Tony had been trying to get me out of my room all morning. He started this obnoxious banging since 5 am, and there was no way in hell I was actually waking up that early. The only thing I was told was that there was a "family meeting" happening soon. A lot of the Avengers would be back from missions so we needed to be prepared to start as soon as they returned. They still hadn't shown up, but I could tell they would be here soon.

Bang! Bang! Bang!!

Tony's knocks were getting louder. I quickly put on a pair of pants and opened the door to a very agitated billionaire. "What the hell Tony?" I exclaimed, walking right past him. I checked the clock in the kitchen and saw it was 7 am. "Tony," I groaned as I started making myself breakfast, "it is a weekend, and I had perfectly relaxing plans for sleeping all morning. What is so damn important?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and simply stood there. He maintained an annoyed and frustrated glare at me as I pulled out the bowls and spoons. I finally stopped what I was doing and stared back, but he wasn't moving. I threw my arms up. "Alright!" I gave up. "What is it?"

"Thank you for finally crawling out of your cave to join us, Dana," he snarked back. I ignored him, though, and focused on my cereal.

However, when I turned around and looked at the living room behind the kitchen counter, I saw why he was so pissed. All the Avengers were sitting on the couches, looking straight at me. I couldn't tell if they had been waiting for a while, but I prayed it wasn't long. Thor was seated by himself in one of Tony's comfortable chairs, grinning at me like always. No one else looked amused.

"Dana! We've been waiting for you," Thor greeted me. He was oblivious to the annoyance of the other members at my tardiness and came up to me for a huge hug. I held him tight, having missed him for all these years.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired incredulously.

Thor laughed and walked me over to the couches where the rest of the team sat. Everyone seemed to relax a bit more at seeing my reunion with Thor. "I'm here to see old friends, of course!"

I didn't believe him. "But I haven't seen you since..," I drifted off, knowing mentions of that day were probably still too raw for him,"..since New York."

Thor's eyes clouded for a moment. Regret, pain, mourning, and anger all passed through his face in a matter of seconds, but I still saw it. He caught himself and returned to his usual friendly smile. He responded, "It indeed has been way too long, but now it seems there are things we need to discuss. All of us."

I turned to the others, but they too seemed confused about what he was talking about. All except Tony. He just continued looking pissed, and I had a reason to suspect it wasn't just because of my stubborn behavior earlier. He refused to sit down, choosing to stand by the couch were Natasha and Steve sat quietly. He had been uncharacteristically silent during the whole interaction as well, which was always a cause for concern.

Bruce was the first to break the silence. "Thor, what's going on here?" he asked the question on all our minds.

Thor sighed and smiled at me one more time before beginning. "My... brother," he started, causing everyone to tense up, "has spent years in Asgardian prison."

"Where he belongs," Clint piped up. He was sitting on the floor at Nat's feet, exhausted from having just returned from a mission.

I shot Clint a glance warning him to be nice. Yes, Loki destroyed half of the city, but Thor still cared for him deeply.

Truth be told, I wasn't around when the battle was fought. I was tucked up with my family in a completely different state. We watched it all happen on TV like most others did, staying up all through the night to make sure the enemies were defeated. However, I did experience something weird then. Days before the battle, my secret mark began to burn again. Gradually, but enough to gain my attention. Then, when I saw Loki on the TV, my wrist began to burn again like it had in New Mexico. I had to excuse myself and place my arm in cold water for half an hour before it faded.

My mark hasn't burned like that since.

Thor gulped, dragging our attention back to him. "Yes, I understand, but it seems my mother has pleaded with the Allfather for these past years to give Loki a chance to... rehabilitate." Multiple scoffs were given from around the room. "Odin has agreed."

"You can't be serious?" Steve demanded. "He killed hundreds, destroyed half the city, and brought about an alien invasion that we're still cleaning up after!"

"Steve," Thor said quietly. "I know. But I cannot defy an order from Odin." Steve backed down. It had been clear since we met him that Thor's father was a king that was not to be disobeyed. With Thor's former banishing, we knew he meant business. "And he is also my brother. He got sucked in to evils beyond our understanding, but I can get him back. I can bring him back again."

"How exactly do you plan on doing that?" Nat questioned.

All eyes were on Thor.

He couldn't look at us back. Instead he gazed at the carpet. "Thor?" I pushed. "Where is Loki?"

Thor eyes turned soft when they found mine again. I could see that same sadness in him that I saw seven years ago. His life was completely different to what he had planned, and his family was torn apart. Finding out your parents lied to you about your brother's heritage for your whole life along with realizing that same brother wanted to kill you was probably taxing.

"It has been requested that he is sent here."

That's when the screaming started. Clint started shouting about how Loki should be dead for his crimes. Steve and Tony argued about whether this was even a plausible idea. Nat tried to calm Bruce down before he had an anxiety attack. Thor stayed silent.

As did I. I continued to sit there and look at Thor. He looked so resigned. His eyes were shut, not wanting to witness the scene before him. The stress had taken a toll on him, and he had no support left. I grabbed his hand and held it between mine, but he didn't move.

"He's a murderer!"

"He'll be dead the minute he steps foot on Earth anyways..."

"... Fury would never agree..."

The fights weren't stopping.

"Tony," I spoke firmly. Everyone stopped to peer at me. "Tony, we have to help Thor."

No response.

"Guys, we can't leave this for Thor to handle alone. The Avengers have a responsibility to protect this world, and maybe, giving Loki a chance to redeem himself is a way of protection. I mean look at what he did in New York. It took six of you to defeat him! He's powerful, he's clever, he has allies and enemies across the galaxy. We don't really want another attack coming from him, do we?"

Thor finally cracked a smile again, silently thanking me by holding my hand a bit tighter. He had needed help all these years, but he never asked. He was always helping us, but now it was time to help him.

Tony considered what I had said for a moment. Although, Clint did not budge. "Dana, you don't know this guy. He's pure evil. I killed friends because of him!"

I released Thor's hand and stood up from my seat. "Do not dare to assume I don't know this man," I snarled, "because you would be wrong. I have met him- in New Mexico. And I saw it all. He's a powerful being, and, guys, we need him as our ally now more than ever. We've been experiencing increases in alien attacks and supernatural occurrences ever since. We could use a magic-wielder like Loki on our team."

Clint and Nat still thought it was all nonsense, but it appeared that I had gotten through to Tony and Steve. Bruce was still cautious.

"She's right," Steve spoke up. "We need more help. Each day new alien tech is invented, and people are now getting access to advanced weapons that we can't outgun."

The whole team silently agreed with what he was saying, but Clint still looked furious. It was expected though, since Clint was the only team member to have been made to kill other agents by Loki's scepter. He had moved on and recovered, but we all knew how hard it was for him to even think about that day and what he did.

"Clint, my dear friend," Thor uttered. "Would you believe me if I said that you were not the only victim of manipulation that day?"

This was news to us. Clint's eyes softened a bit, but his muscles were still tense.

Thor continued, "Loki has admitted to us that he was not in control that day... that a mad Titan had tortured and exploited him for about a year before New York. The monster, Thanos, found him when he fell from the Bifrost."

I sat back down next to Thor, processing all this new information. Everybody was taught that Loki was a bad guy and nothing more, but now... this changes everything. He was being used.

Before anyone could respond, Thor muttered, "I've seen the scars.... He tells the truth."

Scars. I could only imagine what kind of physical and mental pain Loki must have been through to have been convinced to invade Earth. Especially when Loki was no mortal man, but a god who had been raised to endure massive amounts of pain.

"It's decided then," Steve said, getting a supportive nod from Tony. "He may come here."

"But!" Tony interrupted. "He gets one chance, Big Guy. He does something, says something, even thinks of something that harms or jeopardizes others, he is gone."

I could see Thor let out a big sigh of relief. A big portion of his tension and stress rolled off his body now that he finally had help in supporting his brother. No one else looked very happy about it, but we could all see it was what needed to be done. And that was that.

Loki was coming.

[twelverose]

you’ve gone too long without a smile (2/2)

He didn’t have an answer. Because it would mean forgoing the idea of fate and chance. Leading them both to believe there is something more. Maybe within them- that they could change a past that has already had its chance. It's a chance to take hold of the present. Morph them- morph her. And carve out everything to come.

So he just held her. All he knew is they had tomorrow.

Rating: Teen (Heavy themes)

Pairing: Ten/Rose 

WC: 2.1K

TW: themes based around grief, drinking

Read Chapter One Here, Read on Ao3

A/N: it took too many months to post part to but it’s HERE

Song: Daylily by Movements

___________________________

I sit and watch for the few lights for the green side

Lose myself sink into your sunlight

Breathe in the breeze like a sweet sigh keep me tongue tied

If this last forever I'll be just fine, oh I'll be just fine

You are the rustling of leaves

And you are that honey suckle breeze

You are the sunlight, shine on to me

Shine on to me, shine on to me

__________________________

She was doing better. Beginning to smile a little more. Her eyes even began to twinkle again.

Maybe it was the Tardis looking out for her, or maybe it was that his piloting got a little less impulsive. No longer punching buttons and slamming levers, learning to slow down his dance for her. Letting her stay in one space long enough to catch up. Not too long for her to become stuck.

But there hadn’t been many visits to earth. Especially in her time. Neither of them mentioned it. It settled in the air of the console room, afraid of what was outside the doors. Hoping it wasn't something that would spiral down to adjacent memories. He learned that their coping mechanisms had dwindled to one. Risking their lives. Saving worlds. Running hand in hand. Fighting bad guys. Standing for what’s worthy.

He could feel her heart beating sometimes. Well, most of the time. But he was reminded of what it meant. When they were dashing back to their ship. Breathless. On the brink of falling.

Which would happen sometimes. They’d crash through the doors and she’d collapse into the jumpseat. He wouldn’t notice the tears until he had put them in the vortex.

The first time it happened, they were struggling to sprint through the sand. Trying to get back to the Tardis. They were a few yards ahead of the heavy brutes, but the Doctor wasn't aiming to have another lucky breakaway.

It was one of those situations where they showed up at the wrong place, wrong time and broke a law before they could even get a word out. Leaving them to wiggle out of harms way before they lost a finger.

Rose wasn't happy with him. It was also one of those times where they ended up in the wrong century. He missed the year he was hoping for by five decades.

He twirled around the console. Hoping he could take her mind away from being frustrated with him by babbling. Instead, she found the topic he least expected.

"I wish I could call her."

And then she broke down. The small smile fading while the tears gathered. He was quick to move to her side.

“Why-” she swallowed the question when she swallowed her tears.

“Why what, Rose?”

She shook her head, “Out of all these things we do right, why couldn’t we do it right then?”

He didn’t have an answer. Because it would mean forgoing the idea of fate and chance. Leading them both to believe there is something more. Maybe within them- that they could change a past that has already had its chance. It's a chance to take hold of the present. Morph them- morph her. And carve out everything to come.

So he held her. All he knew is they had tomorrow.

&&

It took time. He sure as hell knew that. So tomorrows came and went.

They landed on Theron 70FV. In the middle of some conflict or war. He could never keep up with the Theronians. They were always at odds with someone. Typically themselves.

The Doctor knew it was a fruitless effort, but he let Rose try. Because she needed to make an impact on someone. He didn’t interfere like he normally would, swoop in when things were dire. Partially because he wanted to see if her decisions would change. But mostly because he didn’t have to.

He should have expected Rose to act the way she did.

She paid no mind to the noises going on outside of the warehouse they found full of refugees. Mothers and children and injured. There was no grand scheme to stop the war, it was a tiny, delicate scheme to fight a fight the wary had no energy for. A fight that Rose didn't notice, she saw people in need. People that have been cast away because they weren't as big as the problem at hand. People who needed her.

So they went out and found the supplies everyone needed. The food, the comforts, the medicines. Rose argued and bartered and the Doctor stored what he could in his pockets, making a sack out of a blanket to hold everything. Before eventually trading whatever was in his pockets for a bag that was trans-dimensional.

She kept going. Trudging through villages torn apart by conflict and towns that looked brand new. She wasn’t going back until she had everything on her list checked off. Until she had everything that her people needed.

It took a little more than a week. He had to force her to stop and rest and sleep. Sometimes people would offer a spare room. Other times they found dark corners. It didn’t matter where they were though. They slept rough. Even with Rose pressed against his chest and wrapped in his coat, double heartbeat lulling her to sleep, she never relaxed. He felt her anxious twitches and mumbles while she dreamed. When she woke up, it was onto the next thing on her list.

Sometimes, while they waited on the goods, she allowed herself a breath. He watched her phase out into the thoughts she shoved away. The way she overworked herself drove in the exhaustion. It took over for a moment.

Lost in a world driven by her stubborn, broken heart.

There was a night where she hit that wall. Hard. Falling into his arms but not falling asleep. He almost expected her to cry. Not that it was a bad thing. It was just what she had done every other time this happened. Overwhelmed by all that she was doing with such a loud brain- Who wouldn’t collapse?

They had been invited into a house that night. The tenants called her a martyr. She renounced the title, she was doing what she was put here for.

And the Doctor laughed at that. Because maybe that’s true. With their sentient ship who put them where they needed to be, it was possible. Yet there was a lingering feeling that the Tardis put them here because Rose needed it. Just as much as these people needed Rose.

After dinner, they were led to the guest room. What happened next was like slow-motion.

As the door closed, she turned around to face him and leaned towards for a hug. Which he gave. She was Rose and he was the Doctor and that’s what they did. She collapsed into him like she had when they were on New Earth. And for the first time in four days he felt her muscles relax.

He carried her to the bathroom and sat her down. Taking a towel and wiping away the dirt that had gathered on her face over the past few days. And he laughed. Her eyes came back from wherever she was at with a curious glint.

“If it were me leading the crusade, you would have complained about the dust and dirt days ago. You’ve never been one for the lack of showers.” He explained.

She grinned slightly, looking up through hooded eyelids as he went to set the towel back on the sink.

“Is that what you think I am? A crusade?”

He smiled, “Oh, Rose Tyler. I think you’re brilliant.”

She didn't say much more. He was okay with that.

He helped her out of her jacket and jeans into bed. Listening carefully while scrubbing the dirt off of them. For a small huff or even his name- neither ever came.

He returned from the ensuite to see her laying on top of the duvet, starting at the ceiling with an expression he couldn't quite describe on her face.

He laid next to her. For a moment, the entire world had gone still. Like the moment before someone lets out the breath that says it all.

Her movements remained slow. Curling into him with care. Letting sore muscles relax one by one. Her hand rediscovering the lean muscles of his stomach with detail.

It made his hearts swell. To be in such a moment of peace. Even if it was for a few hours. It was another step. As much as he loved the Rose who smiled and joked and kept running. He knew that she needed a second to just process. To go back into her mind and rummage through thoughts she had shoved to the side.

Some may consider it self-destructive to keep going the way she did. But he couldn’t say a thing. Every moment was worth it. No matter how dark.

She was healing. He was here for whatever route they would take.

&&

They went back to Earth for the first time in months. It wasn’t long for everyone on Earth. A week, tops.

They met Jo at the flat, to pick up the things the Doctor left behind. Rose's relative didn't mention the fact that most of the things they were there for were already gone. Instead, they sat in the cramped living room and laughed. Then cried. Mourning a woman yet to die.

After the melancholy happiness of the afternoon, Rose received a text. One that led them to arguing over if he needed to dress down or not. Rose won.

On their way to the club, she talked about all the times her and her mates got into trouble. Pointing out the chippy they would run to if they heard Jackie was on her way. The alternative routes back to the estates. Tugging him down for a kiss at on the at the crossroads before the club.

She was giddy. Bouncing on her toes. Ready to tell stories and chat with friends she hadn't gotten to properly talk to in years.

They were tucked away in the corner. A small table had been set up for the friends. He had yet to meet any of them outside of Shireen. But they took onto him with ease. Derailing his monologue with a quip at Rose. He kept a eye on her as the conversation bounced around. Stories of running away from their teachers in France, how Mickey asked her out for the first time, and the time Jackie nearly knocked a boy's tooth out. He didn't need to do it. But the subtle changes in her expression and her unconstrained laughter kept him captivated. It was something he didn't realize he missed.

Occasionally someone would come by and ask if the rumors about her were true. Most of which, weren't. Then asking if the Doctor was the man that took her away from the estates.

Tonight seemed to be the night that everyone in Rose’s “normal” life was meeting the Doctor. He didn’t mind. Just keeping a hold of her hand and squeezing it three times when she grew tense.

During the first pint, he found himself raising a toast. Because of something someone said about her.

"To Jackie." He winked.

Rose rolled her eyes in return but joined him, "Best mum in the universe."

As the evening grew on, the stories and laughter distracted them from the fact that it was getting busier. The Doctor hadn't noticed how loud the music was until Shireen left with another one of Rose’s mates to go get refills and they were alone. They were in their own little bubble. Like they had been before.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled into her ear.

She didn't answer right away and he wondered if she even heard him. She was staring off into nowhere. Then the song changed. And Rose perked up and pressed a kiss against his cheek before pulling him out of his chair. She led them out to the center of the room where a crowd he didn’t notice before had formed.

Then they were dancing.

No strategic or planned dance like the first time. Around the console room with only Jack to watch. It was mindless. In the middle of a crowd of people. They were too focused on each other to notice people tripping over their feet. Or their friends calling their names. They didn't care if people were watching.

He was happy that she convinced him to dress down to his henley. Laughing as he twirled her and her hands fell against his chest when someone tripped her.

The lights in the dark room couldn't compare to the ones that sparkled as one of her favorite songs came on.

The tongue-in-tooth smile followed by the come-and-get-me grin told him they were far from where they were the last time they were on Earth.

He was sure that his tomorrows would never stop coming if she kept on smiling like that.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Doctor Who (2005) Fic - The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Title: The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Pairing: None

Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yaz Khan, Ryan, Graham

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Banned Together Bingo Prompt: Alien Weatherman

Additional Tags: Crack-ish, Prompt: Alien Weatherman, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Humor, The Doctor does not know how to pick human appropriate vacation spots, Poor Graham keeps falling because of the Doctor’s poor TARDIS parking skills, Post Season 10

Summary: Essentially, a semi-crack-ish fic where the Doctor tries to suggest vacation spots to her companions, and misses the mark. Until she gets it right.

After all, third time is the charm.

Excerpt:

The Doctor swiped through a few more potential vacation spots, this time, Ryan joining them. There were several that caught the eyes of the crew, but each time that Graham asked for the dangers, there was always one.

Tentacle monsters, giant crabs, Multiple-headed monsters, noxious gas, acid-spitting monsters, poisonous fruits, monsters with giant horns, unfriendly natives, evil tyrannical rulers that were wary of tourists. What was with all the monsters, honestly?

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

 Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314952

                                                          /// 

The TARDIS fam were sitting on the steps next to the central console waiting for the Doctor to return. She had said she would only be a moment and for them to stay.

“I just need to grab this one thing from a friend, I’ll be back before you know it. No need for you to follow me!” she had said, bouncing around the console as the TARDIS landed on another planet, nearly sending Graham to the floor from the abrupt stop.

“But doc-” Graham had started to protest only for her to already be halfway out the door, coat in one hand, and an extremely long rainbow scarf in the other.

“Five minutes at most. Just wait here!” was all the humans heard before the door swung shut.

Graham sighed. “Well that is not going to happen.”

“Who wants to bet she will get stuck on an adventure?” Ryan had asked, mischievous glint in his eyes.

Yaz barked a laugh. “What kind of a naive idiot do you take me for Ryan? The bet should be the kind of adventure she goes on. My guess is tentacle monster.”

“You’re on, I think it is alien species that wants to conquer the planet.”

“Ohhhh, good one, damn I want to change my bet.”

“No way too late!”

“Graham, what about you?”

“I don’t know about the doctor, but personally, I am going for an adventure to the kitchen. I want tea.” Graham had said, waiving off the groans from the other two. He did press the pedal to get a creamy custard biscuit as he walked by though.

That had been almost four hours ago. In the meantime, Graham had had his tea and biscuits, finished his book, taken a small nap, and wound up back in the console room, playing poker with Yaz and Ryan. The younger two members of the ship had tried to venture out of the ship, only to find they were parked at the top of a very steep cliff with no houses or identifiable signs of civilization in sight. And rather than risking getting lost, had ventured back into the ship.

Graham was chuckling as he won the hand for the fifth time in the row, collecting the candy they were using as betting markers when the Doctor burst into the room, tracking mud throughout the entrance as loud bird screeching followed her. She quickly barricaded the door with the bar she kept next to the door and ventured inside.

“Well fam, sorry for the delay, but I see you kept yourselves entertained.”

“Say doc, have you ever actually run an errand where things didn’t go tits up?” Graham asked as he opened one of the mints from his winnings. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yaz passing some money to Ryan.

“I resent the implications Graham, I will have you know I have had plenty of successful errands where nothing went wrong.”

At the silence from the three humans, she looked up from she was fiddling with the console controls again. “I have!”

Graham scoffed as Yaz made an empathetic noise and Ryan rolled his eyes fondly.

“Sure you have Doctor.” Ryan said as he stood up.

The Doctor’s comeback was interrupted by a piercing cry and the distinct sound of claws (or talons) against wood.

“Whoopsie, looks like we have overstayed our welcome!” The Doctor said before pulling down the lever. The trio of humans just managed to brace themselves before the ship took off, shaking like a teacup during an earthquake.

After a couple more minutes, the wheezing sound faded as the ship managed to land somewhere.

“Hey Doctor, where are we?” Yaz as as she peered into one of the monitors on the console. It was still displaying that odd (but beautiful) circular writing the Doctor had called Gallifreyan, but she could also make out a landscape. It was a flat field, with what looked like medium height grasses (green), under a clear sky (purple, which weird but cool), and a scattering of trees that almost resembled pine trees but had normal leaves.

“Ah, thanks for asking Yaz! Welcome to Brosha, in the Aresa galaxy. I figured I owed you guys a proper vacation, and this place has the best food this side of the Andromeda galaxy made from corn. Well, it is actually eir but tastes very similar to Earth’s corn. Looks similar too!”

The three humans were not looking at her as impressed as she was hoping. Her smiled dimmed a bit. “No?”

Ryan answered. “Doctor, that is really nice of you, but none of us are really big fans of corn. Also you are hiding something from us.”

“No I am not.”

Yaz chuckled. “Yes you are. You have a tell.”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I-”

Graham cut off the childish squabbling. Honestly one was an officer of the law, and the other was a two thousand year old alien. It was undignified. “Alright enough. Doc, this sounds nice, but what’s the catch?”

“There are, rarely, every once in a while, stampedes of these huge moose like things. But honestly the chances of that happening while we are there are-”

“Sky high. Doc, we tend to always be around for the once in a blue moon situations. How about elsewhere?” Yaz said gently.

The Doctor pouted, but turned and fiddled with her monitor before brightening.

“Oh, I got one. What about Brakem in the Uccas galaxy? Hot springs filled with healing crystals, soaps and scents from around the universe. Never really rains, two suns, three moons. Gorgeous orange skies.”

“And?” Ryan asked, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Doc, this would be easier if you just mentioned the catch too.” Graham added.

“Average temperatures outside of the resorts are about 40℃.”

No way in hell. Mainly cause it sounded to be about the same temperature. “Next option Doc.”

The Doctor whined but looked at her monitor again. Graham went to sit on the stairs, he had a feeling they’d be there for a while.

“Ok, fine. How about, um, no not that one, ooh that would be, no nevermind, oh! No.” The Doctor muttered as she swiped at her monitor. Yaz went to stand beside her, watching her flick past some amazing landscapes. One in particular caught her eye, and she must have a sound because the Doctor looked at her. “Yaz?”

“What’s that?”

“This one? This is Chebara.” On the screen was a massive lake, extending seemingly to the horizon. The sky was so purple, but so clear she could almost make out stars and other planets in the photo. To one side of the lake she could see a massive hill rising from the ground, clouds covering it from about midway. In the middle of the lake, giant trees that seemed to be floating?

“Are those trees floating?”

“Oh yes, they are Ubal trees, their fruits produce dyes that don’t fade even after a thousand years. Very valuable.” The Doctor explained, glee filling her eyes again.

“Is it safe?” Graham asked. He loved the Doctor, but safety somehow never made it into the woman’s priority list.

“Graham, where is the fun in that?” The Doctor asked, only to be met with a raised eyebrow that would not be swayed. She sighed. “There is a small chance we may encounter the giant alligator-hippos that inhabit the lake.”

“No.”

“But Yaz wants to go!” the Doctor protested.

“Actually Doctor, I think just the photos might be enough. We have had so many adventures, and I would really like a vacation before we head back to the fray.” Yaz said, apologetic.

The Doctor’s shoulders slumped. “Back to the drawing board then.”

The Doctor swiped through a few more potential vacation spots, this time, Ryan joining them. There were several that caught the eyes of the crew, but each time that Graham asked for the dangers, there was always one.

Tentacle monsters, giant crabs, Multiple-headed monsters, noxious gas, acid-spitting monsters, poisonous fruits, monsters with giant horns, unfriendly natives, evil tyrannical rulers that were wary of tourists. What was with all the monsters, honestly?

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

“Guys come on, I promise, the vacation will be fine, I’m sure the bad things won’t happen, they are all statistically very unlikely.”

Graham stood up and walked to the Doctor, laying a sympathetic hand on her forearm. “Doctor, I am sure you have noticed, but let me point it out again. We are kind of one-in-a-million central here. All I want is someplace to put my feet up, a nice cuppa, maybe a chance to tan.” Graham said. Beside him, Yaz and Ryan nodded in agreement.

The Doctor stood in front of the three humans, arms crossed, and cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. Yaz internally squealed at how adorable this couple thousand year old alien could be.

The Doctor tapped out a distracted pattern on her forearm before brightening. “I know the perfect place!” she said.

And then, without waiting for the companion’s response she went back to the console and pressed a few buttons before pulling the lever.

The TARDIS’s wheezing sound was heard before the ship rattled and transported. Graham, who had been standing on the stairs still fell hard on his butt. Ryan and Yaz managed to stumble forward and brace themselves on the console.

“Ow Doc, a couple more rough landings, and you are going to owe me a new hip!” Graham complained as he rubbed the small of his back. Ryan came to his side, helping his sit up against one of the columns around the console.

“Sorry about that Graham! I just thought of the perfect place for a lovely holiday, and wanted to get us there ASAP!”

Ryan and Yaz exchanged glances before looking at her hesitantly. “So…”

“Where are we?”

If possible, the Doctor’s grin got even wider, her eyes alight with delight. “My lovely fam, welcome to Earth, third planet in the solar system, in the outskirts of the Milky Way galaxy. We are in present day Sheffield, the temperature is a pleasant 23℃, there is a humidity of 65%, and chance of rain is 7%!” The Doctor said as she clapped her hands once in delight. Ryan shook his head at the antics of the Time Lord and began to chuckle.Yaz started to giggle before the Doctor waggled her eyebrows at her, at which point she burst out laughing, using the console edge to keep from falling over. Even Graham had a grin on his face as he continued to rub his back. He used the column to brace himself and got up.

“How long will we be staying then doc?”

The Doctor swayed back and forth on her toes and heels. “Up to you guys. How long do you want to stay?”

“Wait, you are staying too right?” Yaz said, squinting at the Time Lord.

The Doctor brought up her hands in surrender. “I’ve got a whole universe Yaz!”

“And I’ve got a spare room with your name on it. Come on, just stay. I know we don’t have crystal pools or floating trees, but Charlie’s pub down the block serves some of the best falafels in the country.”

The Doctor bit her lip, but looking at the hopeful faces of her companions, she gave a single nod.

“Alright, why not.”

She turned and pressed a couple buttons, dimming the lights of the main area of the TARDIS. “There, she is in hibernation. Let’s go enjoy Sheffield.”

With a cheer from the humans, the Doctor let herself be led outside by her fam. Yaz dragging her by the wrist as Ryan lightly pushed her from the back, with Graham closing the ship doors behind himself.

Sometimes, the best vacation from a life traveling was a little bit of home.

[saiilorstars]

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 4: It Doesn’t Matter

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor (but we’re starting with the 9th Doctor)

OC face claim is the actress Victoria Camacho!

No real warnings for now!

// Story Masterlist // 

Chapter summary: Joy is dropped back on Earth but not in the correct time the Doctor promised her. And despite her insistence to leave London altogether, she ends up doing something far different.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Remember what I said?

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

This was so a Third Wheel trip. Frankly, I can't take it anymore. I've grown fond of the Doctor and Rose but the fact that they barely acknowledge me is not that great.

What bugged me the most was that the Doctor didn't even bother getting to know me. All he knew was my name and that I was American. Other than that, nothing. But if you asked him about Rose, he'd have an answer in less than two seconds. Not only was it annoying, but it was also hurtful. It made me think that he didn't like me and I knew that wasn't the case because he could've easily dropped me off but... he didn't. But what was wrong, then?

I loved this place, I really did, but I can't keep going on like this. That's why I left home in the first place, years ago. I will not go through that again.

~0~

"Here we are, just 6 hours after we left," the Doctor pulled up in the same alley way we had left off in on Earth. I stepped outside, feeling as if it wasn't real. After seeing so much, it felt like I was just plain dreaming up the bland planet. "Now, are you sure you want to go home?"

I looked back, seeing him and Rose standing together. I nodded, "Yeah..."

"Oh, don't forget your coat!" Rose rushed inside the TARDIS and came back with my light, yellow coat, "Here," she handed it to me.

"You know we'll be back, right?" The Doctor asked.

I nodded, "Yeah...but-"

"Good then, we'll see you some time later," he grinned then walked inside.

I smiled sadly, nodding again even if he couldn't see it anymore.

Rose, oblivious to the ignorance, simply waved her hand before walking inside as well, "See you."

And just like the last time, one year ago, the blue box of wonders disappeared right before my eyes. "Goodbye Doctor," I whispered, thankful for so much opportunities I had been offered from him, "Thank you."

I turned and walked away, knowing I'd probably never see them again.

~0~

I entered the diner, feeling good and ready to begin the day. I felt I should leave London soon and head off somewhere new. Feeling ignored didn't help and so I wanted a fresh new start again, like the first time. That's usually what would happen: I'd travel, find a new place, meet people, waited a decent time until I saw things going for the worst then got up and left again.

It was that time again...

"Morning!" I yelled.

Ami, who was walking towards the counter, dropped the plates she had been holding to the ground. I jumped when the glass smashed into pieces.

"Ami! What the hell?" I walked towards the counter, setting my bag on it.

"It's...it's you," she pointed a trembling finger at me, "D-Dominic!" she yelled.

"What?" Dominic walked to his station and looked up through the opening window. His eyes widened when he saw me, "Oh my god..."

"Oh, Joy!" Ami threw her hands around my neck, "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"What are you talking about?" I pulled away, utterly confused, "Of course I'm safe!"

"Where have you been kid?" Dominic asked, "We were worried sick!"

"I thought you had finally left again," Ami said sadly, "Without even a goodbye."

"What are you two talking about? I just saw you yesterday," I shrugged off my coat.

"What are YOU talking about?" Dominic raised an eyebrow, "It's been 6 months since you came in."

My eyes nearly popped out, "SIX MONTHS?" I choked out, "N-n-n-n-no," I shook my head, "6 months? No...it..." I looked at them and saw they were serious, dead serious. They wouldn't lie like that; they weren't about the pranking style.

I had been gone for six months.

"Yeah, the boss was really angry you just skipped out like that," Ami said.

"Oh..." I shut my eyes, "I dread to think. I'm fired aren't I?"

They both nodded.

"And I don't think your American charm is going to work this time," Dominic said, "Sorry kid."

I sighed, "I lost my job."

"Where did you go?" Ami asked as I grabbed my coat and bag.

"Somewhere..." I mumbled, walking to the door, "But it doesn't matter now..."

6 months. I've been gone 6 months. The Doctor had said 6 hours. He clearly got it wrong. What was I supposed to do now?

I called where I lived and was greeted by an angry Ms. Griffin, the owner of the apartment in which I rented a room.

I had lost that too.

I was left walking through the streets with no place to go and no money. Wonderful.

I had lost everything...

I looked up and noticed something posted on a street post. At first, I couldn't make out what it was but when I neared closer, I saw it was a 'Missing Girl' flyer. I reached for it and studied it.

I gasped quietly, "Rose..."

'Have you seen me?'

"They've marked her down as disappeared." I read the entire paper and saw there was a phone number and address. I looked up, glancing ahead and back.

I dashed off to somewhere named the Powell Estate. I clutched the paper in my hand as I ran. Oh Rose, if only she knew.

~0~

I knocked furiously, alright I pounded, on a door until I was finally answered. "Jackie Tyler?" I said, catching my breath.

A blonde, blue eyed woman stared at me momentarily stood on the other side of the door, "Uh...yes?"

"I know..." I panted, holding up the crumpled paper in my hand, as if she could really see what was on it anymore, "...Rose..."

"Oh!" She exclaimed then pulled me in and shut the door. "Have you seen my daughter?"

I caught my breath and nodded, "She's been gone for 6 months?"

"Yes, yes, do you know where she is?"

I licked my lips, sucking in a deep breath, "You see..."

"Jackie?" Someone called as the door was reopened.

I froze; it was the young man Rose had been with in the London Eye.

When he recognized me he pointed violently, his anger growing clear on his face. "It's you!"

I blinked, not finding the right words to say. I mean, what could I really say?

"Do you know each other?" Jackie asked, desperately trying to keep up; a hopeful gleam in her eyes, probably belonging to the thought of finally finding her daughter.

"She was with Rose the day she disappeared," The guy exclaimed, nearly shouting at me, "Do you know how many problems your stupid Doctor caused me?"

"I'm...sorry..." I tried apologizing but Rose's mother cut in and started questioning for her daughter.

"You were with Rose? Where's Rose!? What do you know!?"

"Calm down," I gestured with my hands, I seeing her get really get worked up about it, "I can explain..."

"No, you left too!" the guy marched up to me angrily, 'Do you know I was a suspect for killing Rose?"

"Y-you were?" I blinked, now understanding completely his anger, "I'm terribly sorry but it's not my fault!"

"Mickey Smith you let her speak," snapped Jackie.

"Mickey?" I quickly said, "I can explain. Just give me the chance," He glared but nodded and allowed me to continue, "Jackie, I don't know where your daughter is," I began and I saw the disappointment in her face, "But I can assure you she's not dead. She's just...traveling."

"Traveling?" she repeated, "But why won't she call?"

"I don't know," I shook my head, really not getting the answer either. I mean, Rose knew her mother would pick up. She knew her mother would always be worried. She should feel lucky and grateful she had a mother like Jackie. But for some reason, she just wasn't bothered that she had left her mother without a word.

"Jackie, I went missing that same day but...here I am," I gestured to my safe body, "And look, no one even claimed a disappearance of me. I'm perfectly fine."

"Who...who are you?" she asked.

"Joy Souza."

"You seem pretty young..." she looked me over, "You say you disappeared too? And your parents didn't file it?"

I couldn't help but scoff, "Please, like they'd make time to look out for me."

She tilted her head, frowning with confusion, "But-"

"It's not important," I quickly moved on from the topic, "I just came over to give you some assurance over your daughter. I don't know where she is but she'll be coming back. Pretty soon." I turned to Mickey, "And I'm sorry for the trouble you had to go through. I didn't think that'd happen. I don't think the Doctor did either."

He smiled dimly, "I guess it's not really your fault..."

"I uh...better get going," I walked for the door.

"Joy?" Jackie called suddenly, "Hold on there," I looked back as she came up, "Your parents...what did you mean by that?"

I shook my head, "Jakie, it's not import-"

"It's important," she said softly, studying me for a minute, "I can bet you're not even eighteen yet," I tried hiding my shock at her correct guessing but she just saw straight through it. She took my hand, bringing me away from the door. "How's about a nice cup of tea?"

My mouth opened to immediately decline the offer, knowing it was best to put distance between myself and the Doctor and Rose. I had to leave anyways and the less people I said goodbye to, the better. "...can I get coffee instead?"

And that happened instead.

Jackie smiled, nodding as she brought me towards the kitchen, Mickey right behind, "Of course, sweetheart."

~ 0 ~

6 Months Later.

"See you later Jackie!" I exclaimed, running to the door and grabbing my bag.

"Hold on, no breakfast?" she walked out from the kitchen, expectant face that declared I sat down at the table for a proper meal.

"I have to find a new job," I reminded, sweetest smile I could give on my face.

"Again?" she leaned against the wall, "What happened to the one last week?"

"I quit," I shrugged, "Boss was incredibly rude and demeaning."

"Hm, well I already told you. Maybe you should just focus on school. The faster you finish, the quicker you can get into college."

"I will," I nodded, reaching for the door knob, "I am."

I ran through the street, looking intently on where I could apply for another job. It was becoming fairly difficult, I'd admit. Every since I lost the one at the diner, I just couldn't seem to stick in one job anymore. Granted, I never did but this time it was different. I just couldn't. I never stayed too long in a place; when I felt ready to leave I just did. But I hadn't done so in over a year and a half. I was still in London and for some reason, I couldn't leave.

Perhaps, it could have to do with the fact that I had found a real home that I couldn't admit was only a temporary one until Rose returned and took back her room. But the atmosphere was just so different! Right from the beginning, Jackie had sat me down on the table, handing me a cup of coffee, and along with Mickey, listened to my story...my whole story. She didn't yell, she didn't reprimand me, she didn't order me what I had to do...she just listened. While she didn't condone what I had done in respect to my family, she agreed that they had been wrong. She also agreed not to contact them for any reason unless I was in grave danger, and we were talking about life and death situations. In her, I had found the only other person that could possibly understand me and just...allow me to live my life the way I wanted to. I was doing nothing wrong, really.

I had even found a new friend, in Mickey. He had also listened and had understood me, especially since one of his parents had also been quite the distant from him. And now with his 'girlfriend' off traveling with an alien, we had become the best of friends.

I was really happy. So happy that I just couldn't bring myself to leave...

~0~

All morning I spent it in the mall, looking for a job. I managed to go around the shops inside and beside the mall, but still nothing. I was becoming frantic. 6 months of this! I don't know how much longer I can last! I didn't want to be taken care of, I never need anyone to help me. Jackie and Mickey had offered to pay for my expenses while I finished school but I didn't need my own parents to do that for me so I certainly wasn't about to let two people that actually cared for me to do so.

"Hey," I heard Mickey call from behind.

I turned around, hugging him quick, "Hi."

"What are you doing?"

"Job hunting again."

"What happened to the shop?"

"It didn't work out..."

"So, no luck yet?"

I shook my head, "I don't know, I had such a good job at the diner. I had all my money saved...but it's gone." I sighed, "And I can't seem to get up on my feet anymore."

"You'll find something." he assured, "I was heading to Jackie's for lunch. Ready to come back?"

I shook my head, "Ami and I are going to have lunch at the diner."

He nodded, "Alright. I'll see you later then."

I nodded continued on my way. I entered the diner and was greeted by the familiar greasy smell. "Hi Dominic." I greeted.

"Hey!" he waved from his station, "Ami's in the restroom. She'll be out," I smiled and sat at the counter, "Still no luck?"

"Nope!"

"Don't worry. You'll find something good," he assured, "Actually, one of my friends said there was going to be an opening for a high top institution."

"Really?" I perked up, curious, "What is it?"

"I don't know much about it but she said the pay is really good. If you want, I can give you the number of my friend. Just say I sent you."

'Thanks, Dominic." I smiled.

"Hey!" Ami came out, "Dominic, you know the usual!"

He groaned, "Yes."

We went to sit at a table by the glass window.

"How's the work today?" I looked around, "It's barely filled."

"Yeah, things have been going pretty slow this month."

"Because you need an American..." I trailed off, causing her to chuckle.

"We do miss you," she nodded.

"Me too," I admitted, pouting, making her laugh again.

We talked about the future plans we had both made for the rest of the year, specifically for Christmas which was nearing. She said her family would visit the Galapagos Islands. That sounded like fun...one of the places I had to visit. Though the thought of those plans I had had were slowly fading. I didn't want to go away for Christmas but I also didn't want to stay here. Jackie and Mickey were incredible but the truth was still there: I had no family in England and was living in a room that wasn't even mine. Christmas just seemed like a joke, I admitted to myself. Of course, Ami made me laugh through it. She was incredibly sweet when it came to my troubles. Together, we ate like we hadn't done so in months, much to Dominic's dismay.

I was eating my third chocolate mousse when Mickey busted through the doors.

"Oi man!" Dominic yelled, "What's the rush?"

Mickey ignored him and ran straight to me, "Minnie!" he cried, panting heavily, "You have to see..."

"Mickey, what's wrong?" I handed him a drink.

He shook his head and hand, "No, no. It's Rose..." he finally said, "And the Doctor!"

My eyes widened, "What about them?"

He shook his head, still regaining his breath. He grabbed my hand and ran us out. "See you Ami!" I yelled before we left for the streets.

I couldn't believe they were back...

It had been several months and honestly, secretly, I had started believing they would never return.

But now, the only thought that ran through my head was the trouble those two were in...

~0~

We ran up the stairs of the Powell Estate and bust through the door of the Tyler's. We saw Rose, the Doctor and Jackie in the living room.

"You're back..." I breathed, "Jackie..."

"It was him, wasn't it?" she frowned, "Did he take you away too?" I glanced to the Doctor for help, "He did," Jackie glared at him, "You took these two girls?"

"I didn't force them!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"He didn't," Rose assured, "Mum, please just calm down."

But Jackie was hysterical. She was angry. Furious.

And she should be...

12 months. One Year.

I think anyone who waited that long would be right to be angry...right?

"Jackie, what did I say?" I asked her, trying to ease her anger as best I could, "She was fine. Isn't that what matters?"

"Yes, of course but..."

"Then let it go." I said, "Your daughter is here. Be happy."

She stared at Rose, sighing, "Oh come here," she pulled Rose for a hug.

"Nice one," Mickey whispered behind me.

"Thanks," I whispered back, smiling as the mother and daughter reunited.

"Joy," the Doctor stood up, "How have you been?"

I glanced at Jackie and Mickey, silently pleading they wouldn't say anything, though I think only one of them got the message, "Um...good. I've been very good."

"Minnie," Mickey began, "You los-"

"I've been good," I repeated clearly, elbowing him in the stomach, "Working..."

"That's good." the Doctor nodded, "Really, really good."

I half smiled, "Come here," I pulled him for a hug, "I thought I'd never see you again, you goof ball."

He chuckled, "I did say see you some time."

I pulled back, "It's been six months."

"I thought it was 12," Rose said.

"For you," I looked at the Doctor, "You seem to have made a miscalculation with me as well. It wasn't 6 hours, it was 6 months."

"Oh..." he looked around, "Oops."

"Yeah, oops," I crossed my arms. I pretended to be angry but then started laughing. I re-hugged him, happy to see him again. Secretly, I thought that this time we'd actually get a chance to talk.

That was the plan...

A spaceship crashed into Big Ben, the Doctor as usual got us arrested and 'escorted' to give answers on something we clearly didn't know of. Aliens were discovered to be hiding in 'human suits' I'd say? It was the usual for the Doctor, got himself in trouble and inexplicably saves himself and the rest of the world.

And do you know what happened apart from that?

More ignores.

Now, it was just frustrating!

Throughout the whole chaos, I was only referred back to for a clever input that could possibly give the Doctor an idea. But other than that, it was like I was just one more human, like Harriet Jones, that had tagged along with the time travelers. Was I really just that awful? That bad of a 'companion' as Rose called herself.

Oh, and that's one more thing I also picked up on...

Rose didn't view the Doctor just as an alien. While she wasn't 'in love', she wasn't just viewing a friend. I truly believed that wouldn't end well for either party. And as selfish as I may sound, I also believed that it wouldn't end well for me if they become something more than friends. Because if I felt ignored now then I couldn't even begin to imagine what it'd feel like later on...

"Are you sure you don't want to come along then?" the Doctor asked me, once more, by the TARDIS.

I looked to Rose that was standing beside him, making my answer crystal clear in my head. "No. I have things to do here.."

"Like what?" he asked, slightly disgusted at the idea of turning down the glorious box of wonders for Earth.

You'd know what happened to me if we talked, I thought.

That was rude but...I was fairly irritated.

"Things. But I'll be here," I glanced at Rose, "You don't mind if I keep staying in your room?"

She smiled and shook her head, "Keep my Mum company for me. And take care of Mickey."

I did a pretend salute, "Understood."

"Well, I'll see you some time then," the Doctor gave a slight nod then entered the TARDIS.

Rose did a slight wave then entered the TARDIS. I took steps back as the TARDIS began de-materializing.

"Why'd you let him leave like that?" Mickey asked.

I sighed, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not an idiot, Minnie. I saw you barely spoke. Did you even tell him what happened when you came back?"

"No..." I admitted, "It doesn't matter."

'It does matter," he put a hand on my shoulder.

"What was I supposed to say?" I turned around to face him, "I lost my job? I lost my year of school? I lost everything for coming with him? Was I just supposed to drop it off like that?"

"No, but you could've said something," he replied, equally serious as I was, "While there was no mean intentions, he did hurt you. And he still is, much like Rose. They both ignore you and I don't like it! I'd never leave you like they did."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued at his last words, "...is that why you didn't take the Doctor's offer then?"

The Doctor had asked Mickey if he wanted to accompany he and Rose into the TARDIS, take him on those trips Rose talked about today but for some reason, Mickey said no.

"Honestly, I'm scared of the idea of time traveling but..." He sighed, nodding, "...I can't just leave you after everything. You lost your job, your home, your money, your school year...everything. And you don't even say anything? C'mon, Minnie, you're so sweet but there's a limit."

"I was asking you a question and you turn this back on me?" I frowned, disliking that tactic had taken custom of using.

"My answer has to do with you," he clarified softly, "A best friend looks out for a best friend, and I intend to do so."

"Oh Mickey, you're amazing!" I hugged him.

He sighed, "It saddens me that he doesn't even know you."

"It's a bit disappointing," I agreed, pulling back, "But maybe it'll change the next time we see each other."

"Maybe," he swung his arm around my shoulder, "How's about a chocolate milkshake in the meantime?"

I smiled, "Sure. Let's get Jackie too."

Hopefully, the situation wouldn't last forever. Maybe I was right, maybe the next time the Doctor came back, we'd finally talk like actual friends.

[mamaredd123]

Fuck the Snowman

A/N: This is for @atc74 Cards against Christmas Drabble Challenge. As usual, lately, I am posting late, sorry about that, BUT it is posted!!!!!! At any rate, th6is was written days ago but just got it posted tonight... at any rate, hope you all enjoy!!!!

WARNING: none

WORD COUNT: 814

PAIRING: Dean x Reader

Mama’s Master List (Can’t link cause I am still listed as explicit)

Christmas! Bah fuckling hum bug! Y/N could care less about the Christmas spirit now and never had, or at least for as long as she could remember. Christmas day when she was three, a wonderful ole Hold Nickar, the god of the winter solstice, came and took her father. She never saw him again.  Even after running into the brothers, falling in love with Dean, knowing that they destroyed the Hold Nickar, still… Christmas would never hold any good memories for her.

“Y/N, I know this time of year is hard for you but damn, it’s been how long? Sweetheart, I just want to try to show you that Christmas can be a wonderful thing,” Dean told her as they pulled up to the bunker.

“I don’t care. I don’t care that ‘people everywhere overcome their issues’ Dean. I am not everyone.” she threw back at him.

She crawled out of the car and slammed the door. Practically stomping, she made her way up the walkway and into the bunker. Without even giving Sam the time of day, she thumped her way down the staircase and headed straight for her room.

There was nothing Dean could do to undo thirty years of hatred in a single season. Y/N walked into her room, throwing her bag on the bed, and took in a deep sigh of relief. Yes, Christmas was hard for her but somehow, coming home to something familiar was soothing. Quickly, she seized the moment to grab a hot, scalding shower to wash the last hunt off her skin. Even as she entered the shower she could still smell the blood.

Freshly bathed, clean smelling, but still in poor spirits, she pulled the covers back on the bed. As she climbed in and pulled the soft quilt up to her chin, something in her pulled at her conscious. She knew what Dean was trying to tell her, trying to make her understand. On one hand she understood where her anger came from and she kind of wanted it to go away. On the other hand, if she let that anger go, what did she have left?

Sleep overtook her before she had a chance to consider what could have been as she crawled into the bed. Pulling the covers up around her chin, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber, her dreams tormented by haunting Christmas images.

The next morning she woke to the smell of pancakes and bacon drifting down the halls. Rumblings from her stomach reminded her that she didn't eat before going to bed last night. Quickly she jumped out of bed and snatched up her robe. Opening her door, she almost tripped over the snow boots that someone had left right in her path.

Taking a second, with a perplexed look on her face, she went ahead and put the boots on. She couldn't help but laugh at herself, picturing how silly she must look as she walked down the hall. As she rounded the corner, she ran head first into a coat rack with her parka on it.

As she picked herself and the coat rack up, she noticed a sticky note attached to her coat. ‘Bundle up before you come outside’. Come outside? Hell, she wanted to eat! Uttering a silent ugggg, she reluctantly pulled the parka on and climbed the stairs. Whatever they had planned, they had better make it quick. She intended to be back inside before those pancakes got too cold to melt butter!

The cold had the door sticking slightly so it took a little extra pull from her to get it open. At least that what she placed the blame on for getting nailed in the face by a snowball as the door finally opened! She was sure the shock she felt was echoed on her face as she looked out and saw Dean, Sam, and Cas standing there with mounds of snowballs.

If these boys wanted a fight she would give them one. Quickly she dashed out, shaking the freezing ice from her face as she dodged the balls they threw at her. Flinging herself into a mound of snow built up around a hedge, she hurriedly buried in, making a makeshift bunker of sorts.

Repeated darts above the snow line with quick hands, she hand successfully managed to nailed each of them twice after about fifteen minutes when she heard Sam cry mercy. Tentatively she raised her head up to look out. To her delight, all three boys were standing in the open hands above their heads.

“You guys surrender?” she questioned.

“We bow to you”, Sam spoke.

“Yes, we are not worthy” Dean said laughing.

“About time you recognized,” she retorted as she strutted out from her barricade.

“Come on”, Cas spoke. “Let's build a snowman.”

“Fuck the snowman. I need those pancakes!” Y/N replied.

Tag5g5imn

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[cancerianprincess]

“Wicked Coronation” (vampire! T’Challa)

Warning(s): None

Recommend Listen/Song Inspo: “Stranger Things” ~ Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown

A/N: This was just a little something I decided to crank out before spooky szn was officially over after being inspired by this photo (which ALL credit for goes to @persephone​ ). Happy Halloween, you guys. Enjoy 👻🧛🏾‍♂️🎃😈

______

“Unbelievable.”

Reyna scoffed as she headed back to her car, shaking her head at the vast level of tardiness her date was displaying tonight. She couldn’t believe that after willingly putting herself out there, he had the nerve to be late.

As a result of listening to her best friend, Talia, Reyna had put on her best outfit, a crimson colored velvet bodycon dress that was to die for, a pair of dazzling single dangle earrings and single matching bangles on each wrist, and her best heels which were a pair of sleek black stilettos that would have any man or woman eating out the palm of her hand. The twist out was on point, matte lipstick was popping, and her glitter red acrylics still looked fresh as can be.

So imagine the amount of irritation Reyna felt bubbling inside her upon realizing she had been stood up while looking like a full course meal.

After be more than courteous enough to wait forty five minutes past the agreed meeting time, Reyna was now heading back to her car while tapping away furiously on her phone.

‘It’s been almost an hour and he didn’t show sooo guess who’s leaving 🙃’

Reyna began fishing through her black clutch while awaiting Talia’s reply, knowing she was hovering over her phone in expectation of every last detail.

Wifey 🤗💋(2)

‘Excuse me 👀 you said what now??’

‘Do I need to make a trip that way?’

A light but warm chuckle escaped Reyna’s lips in response to the ride or die aura her girlfriend was exuberating. “And yet she loves to claim that I’m the crazy one,” Reyna thought to herself.

‘Pipe down girl, it’s all good lol. If he can’t act right then he can certainly get left’

“And he if think shit sweet next time I see him, he got another thing coming.” This time Reyna had spoken out loud, but despite the rhetorical nature she still received an unexpected response.

“Oh, entle,” a baritone voice cut through the dark. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

Well, partially unexpected response, at least.

Reyna folded her arms across her chest after stopping halfway down the alley just a few feet short of her car. “You’re late.”   

She glared intensely at the man posted up against said vehicle who was dressed in a spotless all black suit, and yet still managed to stand out in contrast to the dark of the night. The first few buttons of the matching onyx dress shirt he donned underneath had been left unfastened, leaving the fabric to hang open exposing his defined pecs ever so slightly. There was a red pocket square in the front of his jacket, and as if to accent the accessory, he held in his hand a single red rose, inhaling its scent right before his eyes cut to his other half.

“Forgive me, my love,” her boyfriend apologized. “I’m afraid I let time get away from me while I was...tying up some loose ends.” He pushed off the Lamborghini to approach Reyna, but for the two steps he took to be in arm’s length of her, she took a step back.

“Uh-uh, T’Challa. Using your ‘voodoo magic’ is not going to get you off the hook for this so don’t even try it,” Reyna reprimanded him. “What ‘loose ends’ were so important that you had to keep me waiting for nearly an hour, on tonight of all nights? It’s not like we have all the time in the world!”

Since the night Reyna had accidentally ended up in the wrong Halloween party to say the least, T’Challa turned rescuing her from a group of savage gargoyles into a tradition of treating Reyna to a night out on the supernatural side of town. In the past four years since that fateful encounter, it was fair to say that the two had fallen for each other, regardless of the vampire/mortal dynamic that frequently posed as a challenge for them. But, nevertheless, Reyna adored her other-worldly beau and accepted him wholeheartedly, fangs and all. If anything, the true nature of his origins fascinated her.

Which is why T’Challa had finally decided on what to grant his lover with as a reward for finishing up graduate school. And what better gift was there than making Reyna a part of his world rather than just a frequent visitor?

“Well, usana, not that I need use of my powers to get you to forgive me, which you and I both know,” T’Challa stated. He quickly stepped in closer perimeter of Reyna before she had the chance to retreat any further, placing the lone flower in her hand.

“But I suppose you have waited long enough for your surprise,” he went on, a devious smirk playing at his lips. In the mere seconds that Reyna had become distracted by the gorgeous creature’s charisma, he had circled around his girlfriend like a vulture as she closed her eyes to sniff the rose.

Burying his face in the crook near Reyna’s collarbone, and running his hands along her amber skin until they were wrapped snugly around her waist, T’Challa spoke seductively into her ear, “Time to get a taste of what we’ve been missing out on.”

And with that, before Reyna even had an opportunity to utter a syllable in protest, T’Challa bore his pearly white fangs, and bit directly down into the right side of her neck.

*******

Whatever pain had hit the new grad student from the chomp in her flesh went away as quickly as it came. The second Reyna felt the teeth sink into her vein she could have guessed correctly what was happening, but of course there was no time to fully analyze the possibility. Because the moment her eyes had snapped open just as fast as they’d clamped shut, Reyna found herself standing in the VIP section of the same forbidden nightclub she’d stumbled into over four years ago.

Perched on the overlook she could see the entire dance floor below packed and lively beneath her feet with every fictional creature one could think of when it came to spooky season. Their forms collided together rhythmically in time with the music blaring through the speakers, while the colored strobe lights flashes different hues of red and purple creating endless shadows against the walls.

Moving closer to the railing, Reyna noticed that her body felt different; that it felt...strange. A good kind of strange. Her chocolate color orbs now glowed the same shade of scarlet as her dress, and all her senses seemed to amplified ten times over, including her ability to easily detect a lingering presence hanging over her shoulder.

“Enticing, isn’t it?” T’Challa asked from behind her. “You see, since the minute we met I detected there was something special about you, however I failed in putting my finger on it right away. Still I longed to know more of you anyway, despite it going against my conventional practices.” He drifted to Reyna’s side, continuing with his thoughts while watching over his subjects along with her.

“But with the passage of time, I was able to uncover at last what it was that inevitably drew me to you.” The demon turned to Reyna, cupping her chin in his grasp to direct all her attention to him.

“It was your passion, Reyna,” T’Challa confessed while staring into her newly colored irises. “Your captivation with the unknown, the way you’re enthralled by mystery; it was in your eyes the first night we met. Instead of turning away from me in fear, you allowed your fascination to learn more about my world guide you. I knew then, that I could trust you to be mine.”

The two were now inches apart, giving the demon leeway to close the gap by pressing his lips to hers. Reyna melted into the kiss, finding herself more attracted to her boyfriend as ever due to his observation of her. She moaned lightly into his mouth, only to let out a slight whimper when he broke away.

“Now done with school, you have no more immediate obligations holding you to the mortal world permanently, but if you still choose to walk away, then I possess a potion that will reverse the bite I gave you if consumed before sunrise,” T’Challa muttered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“But, neglect to take it by then, and your days as a mortal will be over.”

The vampire began backtracking slowly to the center seat that served as his throne until seated back upon it with one foot placed across the opposing knee.

“So, what do you say, my love?” His eyes blinked closed briefly, glowing blood red when they opened again as he made his final offer. “Will you join my world? Lead along with me as my equal in ruling over these heathens?”

Reyna stood and thought for a moment, remembering that she owed her good friend details about how the ‘anniversary dinner’ had went once it was finished. Knowing she would get a kick out of spinning this one, she could barely contain the smile spreading across her face.

“Darling,” Reyna started, running her tongue across her freshly obtained fangs while stalking over to her soulmate seductively. “It would be an absolute honor to call you my king.”

But that conversation would have to wait until later, because right now, Reyna was about to become Queen of the Underworld.

~~~~~

~Tags 🖤~

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[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: What Do We Actually Know About the TARDIS?

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We all know the TARDIS. Blue box. Travels in space and time. Bigger on the inside. May contain a hat stand. For the Doctor and her friends it is home, it is a safe port of call from monsters and cracks in time and the combined hordes of Genghis Khan. But how well do we really know the TARDIS? In many ways it is the most mysterious part of Doctor Who lore. After all, every other mystery in the universe is one the Doctor quickly sets about trying to solve- even those about herself. The TARDIS, however, is just how she hops between mysteries. The Doctor has no time to worry about the inner workings of the TARDIS because she’s always leaving it to go somewhere else.

However, over the years we have gleaned some tidbits about the workings of this marvelous time ship, so let’s answer a few of the big questions.

What’s it called?

Let’s start with what it’s called. That’s “the TARDIS” which stands for “Time And Relative Dimension In Space”. Or sometimes “Time And Relative Dimensions In Space”. The name was coined by the Doctor’s granddaughter, Susan, although also we’ve seen people refer to TARDISes by the name before Susan could have come up with it. The Big Finish audio “The Beginning” tries to reconcile this by having Susan come up with a name herself that coincidentally is also the name Time Lords used for them anyway.

Only as Bill points out when she first learns about the TARDIS, the acronym “Time And Relative Dimension In Space”, spelling out the word “TARDIS”, only works in the language of English on the little-known planet of Earth. In German, for instance, it would be called the ZURDIR, so goodness knowns what Gallifreyans actually call it.

So the answer to our first question is “We don’t know”.

Why does it look like a police telephone box?

All TARDISes (or whatever they’re called) come equipped with a Chameleon Circuit as standard. As the Doctor explains in one of the TARDIS minisodes from the Season 5 DVD box set, “Every time the TARDIS materializes in a new location, within the first nanosecond of landing, it analyzes its surroundings, calculates a twelve-dimensional data map of everything within a thousand mile radius, and determines which outer shell would blend in best with the environment… And then it disguises itself as a police telephone box from 1963.”

This has been a long-term problem for the Doctor. The TARDIS transformed into a police telephone box when it landed in London in 1963, and remained that way when it was discovered by first companions Barbara and Ian in “An Unearthly Child“. When the TARDIS teleported backwards through time, however, the Doctor and his granddaughter were confused to see it was still the same shape. It has stayed that way ever since, despite some attempts to repair it, and we largely get the sense from the Doctor these days that she prefers the TARDIS that way.

But there is still some puzzlement over why the TARDIS got stuck that way in the first place. One theory has been presented in the 50th anniversary comic story in Doctor Who Magazine. In “Hunters of the Burning Stone”, the 11th Doctor goes back in time to the events of “An Unearthly Child”, sneaks into the TARDIS and busts the chameleon circuit so that the “blue box” would become a recognized image throughout history.

Except, now we’re thinking about, if you were a super powerful alien AI landing in a junk yard in Shoreditch in 1963, and you wanted to seem as inconspicuous as possible, you’d probably look like a dustbin, or a wrecked car, or just “some rubbish”. A police telephone box… stands out a bit?

Only it gets weirder. The events of “The Fugitive of the Judoon” and “The Timeless Children” introduce us to Ruth, or “the Fugitive” Doctor. Some have suggested this might be a secret Doctoral incarnation between the first and second Doctors, but it is looking increasingly likely that this Doctor is one of the previously forgotten versions that predate William Hartnell.

And she travels in a TARDIS shaped like a police telephone box, years before it ever landed in Shoreditch 1963. So the answer to our second question is “We don’t know”.

Read more

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How big is the TARDIS on the inside?

We know it’s bigger on the inside, but how much bigger? Most of the time the only room we see of the TARDIS is the Console Room (or one of the console rooms, anyway). This can vary between being the size of a cathedral, to the size of a soundstage in Wales.

But we also know, either through seeing them directly, as in Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS, or through hearsay from its passengers, that the TARDIS contains many other rooms. These include an unknown number of bedrooms for the Doctor’s companions (some with bunkbeds), a library, a swimming pool, an enormous walk-in wardrobe, a garage, the cloister room, a “Zero Room”, squash courts, a kitchen, a garden, an art gallery, a salon, a sick bay, a boot cupboard (that is enormous), water slides, boating lakes, a rainforest, and perhaps most bafflingly of all, some bins.

These are all handled by the architectural configuration system, which as near as we can tell allows the Doctor to add and delete rooms at will, like a house in the Sims. So any of these rooms might have been deleted, or deleted and re-added later, any number of times. So we don’t know how many rooms are inside the TARDIS, but we should at least be able to guess at the dimensions, right?

Fan-favourite companion Sarah Jane Smith asks this question in “The Masque of Mandragora”. The exchange goes:

SARAH: Just how big is the Tardis? DOCTOR: Well, how big’s big? Relative dimensions, you see. No constant. SARAH: That’s not an answer. DOCTOR: How big are you at the moment? SARAH: Five four, just, and that’s still not an answer. DOCTOR: Listen, listen. There are no measurements in infinity.

And then the Doctor goes on to insult puny human minds, because he’s like that. But the trouble is, he’s right. As far as we know, the TARDIS interior exists in its own pocket dimension, outside of our universe. Which means there is nothing to compare the TARDIS interior with. That, or maybe the Doctor is just covering up the fact that he doesn’t know. So take your pick. “There are no measurements in infinity” or “We don’t know”.

How many people can the TARDIS transport?

The Doctor famously nicked her TARDIS all that time ago, when it was in a scrapyard waiting to be decommissioned. At the time its passengers were the Doctor, the Doctor’s granddaughter, Susan, and according to the Big Finish audio mentioned above, a guy called the Quadrigger who was a sort of TARDIS mechanic.

This is not even close to a full crew complement. As we discover in “Journey’s End”, the TARDIS console is hexagonal precisely because there should be six people manning it at any one time, explaining why the Doctor pilots it by running around like a headless chicken, occasionally having to resort to pieces of string or an outstretched umbrella to activate controls on two sides of the console at the same time.

But in “The Invasion of Time” the Doctor’s TARDIS is able to transport a full Sontaran army, while in “Revolution of the Daleks” the Doctor tricks an entire Dalek army into trapping themselves in another TARDIS.

As we’ve already said, the interior of the TARDIS has unknown and possibly unlimited dimensions, so there’s no reason we know of why you couldn’t fit an entire civilization in there. It does make you wonder why more Doctor Who episodes don’t feature the Doctor organizing an entire planet’s population into an orderly queue to evacuate. So once again the answer is “We don’t know”.

What powers it?

Sure, why not. We’ve failed hard at what it’s called, why it looks like it does and how big it is. Why don’t we just flat out ask what powers the dimensionally transcendental spacetime machine? That’ll be an easy one.

Well it’s the Eye of Harmony, an exploding star preserved at the moment it collapses into a black hole. The Fourth Doctor story, “The Deadly Assassin” revealed that it can be found hidden under the floorboards of the Panopticon on Gallifrey, except that Gallifrey has blown up (at least) twice, and in the Doctor Who movie we discovered that actually the Eye of Harmony is on board the TARDIS under a big stone trapdoor and can somehow be used to steal all of a Time Lord’s remaining regenerations, but then in “Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS” we find that actually its just hanging in this massive space void inside the TARDIS with a walkway going through it. Are these all the same Eye of Harmony? Did the Doctor pinch it, or were all the TARDISes connected to the Eye of Harmony through wormholes or subspace or something, allowing it to be in multiple places at once?

I will let you guess.

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Doctor Who Series 13 will air this autumn on BBC One and BBC America.

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