#ryan sinclair x reader
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noforkingclue · 10 months ago
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Doctor Who Companions Masterlist
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Rory Williams
Angst
Unrequited
Multi-Part
What a Catch
What a Catch Part 2
Platonic
A Good Person
Ryan Sinclair
Insecurities
Jethro Cane
New Adventures
Waiting
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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago
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Finally His Year - Eddie Munson x Reader
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An As You Wish Story
Collab with my soulmate @munson-blurbs ���
Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and what he really wants is you.
Note: In honor of JQ’s 30th birthday woohoo 🎉
Words: 4.1k
[As You Wish masterlist]
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The Munson house is buzzing when you arrive. There are three unfamiliar cars parked in front of it, probably from the other people celebrating Eddie’s birthday with him. You have his gift tucked under your arm and a Tupperware of raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies in that same hand, using the free one to ring the doorbell. 
You barely have time to pull your forefinger back before the door swings open. Luke peeks his head around, grinning when he sees you standing there. 
“Good evening, madam-a-zell,” he says in a vague concoction of European accents—none of them even resembling French. “May I take your—ooh, cookies!”
Laughing, you reach over and ruffle his mop of curls. “These are for Daddy, Luke-miere.” When his face falls, you quickly add, “but maybe he’ll share.”
This placates him, and he skips off to announce your arrival. As soon as he says your name, you hear the sound of Eddie’s feet shuffling towards the entryway. 
“You made it!” He says with a huge smile. In your dreams, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses you tenderly. But this is real life, so he just stands with his hands in his pockets. 
“I made it,” you agree awkwardly. It takes a moment for you to remember everything you’re holding. “Oh, these are all for you.” You maneuver it all, handing him the cylindrical tube and then the plastic container. Luke loudly clears his throat, and you grin. “Unless you feel like sharing the cookies.”
Eddie takes the presents, shaking his head at his younger son’s interruption. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Sweetheart.”
That stupid nickname. You love and hate it; as much as he calls you that, you know you’re not his sweetheart. Because he’s married. 
His wife—God, you hated that she held that title—was sipping a full glass of wine. Though she’s standing next to Nancy, the two aren’t exchanging any words. 
You should go over there. Brittany is technically one of your employers, so it’s best not to rock the boat. Unless, of course, you could ensure she’d fall overboard. 
Plastering a feigned smile on your face, you walk over to her. Before you can even get out a hello, she points towards Ryan and Luke. 
“They have to go to bed at nine o’clock, so just have them in their pajamas with their teeth brushed by then.”
Embarrassment crawls under your skin. “Oh, I, um, I’m actually here for the party. Not to babysit.”
Brittany doesn’t seem thrown off at all; she just rolls her eyes and turns to Nancy. “Didn’t realize people still needed parties after they turned thirty,” she quips. 
To her credit, Nancy just shrugs and walks to you, ignoring the snark hurled your way. She guides you over to where the rest of the group is chatting. 
“Can you say, ‘Uncle Dusty’?” Dustin asks little Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair, gently bouncing her in his arms. “C’mon…Un-kul Duh-stee!”
“Elmo!” Tiffany claps her chubby hands together gleefully, unbothered by Dustin’s frustration. 
“I think your kid’s broken,” he grumbles, handing the little girl back to Lucas. 
“She was fine until you held her,” Lucas quips as he holds his daughter against his chest.
“Or maybe she just thinks you look like Elmo,” Steve offers with a shrug. 
“What is this, high school?” Dustin asks, looking between his friends. “Ganging up on me?”
Eddie shakes his head and gives a loud tsk. 
“It’s because you’re not part of the club, Henderson.”
“Oh, because I’m not a dad?” Dustin asks, gesturing with a motion that looks very similar to jazz hands. “That’s fine. Because I’m the coolest uncle these kids have. Someone has to be that figure in their lives.”
“Are they always like this?” you ask Nancy with an amused chuckle.
“Since high school,” Nancy confirms with a sigh. “The sad thing is, I can see how they’ve matured since then.”
You giggle at her response before there’s a weighted thunk against the front of your legs. Ryan’s chocolate eyes peer up at you, a huge grin on his round face. 
“Well hello, you,” you greet him, reaching down to ruffle his honey colored hair. 
“I’m so happy you’re here!” Ryan cheers. Warmth spreads in your chest at his words. You’re touched until he opens his mouth again to ask, “Luke said you brought cookies?”
“I did,” you tell him, tugging on a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “But they’re for your dad. It’s up to him if he wants to share with you guys.” Of course he will, you think to yourself. Eddie loves these boys more than Luke loves his Hot Wheels collection; and as you’re reminded by the five-year-old almost every day you babysit, that’s a lot. 
“Maybe after he opens his presents,” Ryan muses, more to himself than you. “Or after we have the cake Aunt Nancy made.
“Ryan!”
A little girl’s call echoes around the room. The older Munson boy gives you a quick smile before running towards the kitchen where Natalie Harrington is drawing a picture. 
Something Ryan said sticks in your brain though. You turn towards Nancy, brow pinching slightly.
“You made Eddie’s cake?” you ask. 
The deep breath Nancy takes lets you know there’s more to the story than she’s probably going to tell you. After all, she hardly knows you. The two of you had only met a handful of times since you started watching the boys last year and none of the visits were particularly long. It's an annoyed sigh that Nancy heaves out, her petite shoulders falling with the release. She’s not annoyed at you, if her kindness and body language towards you are anything to go on. So, what’s got her so tense?
“I did,” Nancy affirms. She’s quiet for a moment and at first you think that’s all she’s going to say. But the way her head bobbles slightly from side to side and her jaw muscles tighten and release, you can tell she’s picking her words carefully before she speaks. To her, you’re her friend’s employee so how much should she reveal? “Steve, um, called Eddie yesterday morning to confirm the time for the party today. Eddie was headed out the door just as Steve called. He said he was going to the grocery store. To buy his own birthday cake.”
“His own? Why couldn’t his wife get it? Or better yet, why didn’t she make one for him with the boys?” Your mind floats back to when you and the boys made a cake for Ryan’s birthday over the summer. It was messy and overly sweet, but the love and care put into it are what made it special. 
“That’s what I said,” Nancy grits out through a clenched jaw. After a few moments, you see Nancy’s body deflate. The tension rolls off her like a wave returning to the sea. “So, I made him one. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”
“Carrot cake?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose. It’s not that you disliked the dessert, it just wasn’t what you would’ve pegged Eddie for on his birthday. 
“I know,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. She shakes her head in amusement, wavy locks of hair swaying at the movement. “He can’t be typical, right? Not chocolate or vanilla—or even strawberry, but carrot cake. That’s Eddie for ya.”
The party continues with casual conversations: milestones Tiffany is meeting, work updates for the “kids” (who were now full-fledged adults, but would always be freshmen to Eddie), and a tentatively scheduled reunion for their high school Dungeons & Dragons club. It only came to a stop when there was a crash in the kitchen. 
Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound, worried that one of the Munson or Harrington children was causing chaos, but the reason for the clamor was none other than Brittany. She’d dropped the cheese and cracker board on the ground and was laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke. 
“Oopsie daisy!” She cackles, nearly falling over with the force of her laugh. While the rest of you had been casually sipping wine or beer, she had been drinking like she was at a frat party. 
“Jesus,” Nancy mutters under her breath. 
Eddie glances at Steve, who nods at Lucas, and the two of them step in towards Brittany. 
“C’mon, time for bed, Britt,” Steve says as patiently as he can manage. He hooks an arm around her, and Lucas does the same on the other side. It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. A well-oiled machine, ensuring that the kids are none the wiser.
Small miracles, you suppose. 
“We can do presents when they get back,” Max jumps in, trying to keep the attention away from the drunk woman stumbling away. 
Eddie nods in agreement, collecting the various gifts from the kitchen table and placing them next to his spot on the sofa. When he sits, he spreads his legs enough that you can imagine yourself between them, pressing kisses up his thighs to his—
No. Stop it. 
When Steve and Lucas return, Eddie reaches for the first package. Though the room is filled with excited murmurs and crinkling wrapping paper, you can still make out the quiet conversation between Nancy and her husband. 
“Did you hold a pillow over her head?”
“No, Nance.”
“Damn it.”
You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a smile. 
Eddie pulls out a pair of sneakers from the box: white with a black check mark on the side. He immediately slides them on his feet, wiggling his toes around to ensure enough room. “These are perfect! My old ones were falling apart.”
“We know,” Nancy says wryly as Steve proudly announces, “You said you liked mine, so I got you the same ones.”
“Aww!” Dustin coos, pursing his lips exaggeratedly. “You guys are twins!
Eddie discreetly flips him off before continuing through his stash. Theo and Natalie Harrington made him woven friendship bracelets, which he immediately slid onto his left wrist. When he opens Dustin’s gift, a mug printed with the words “rock ‘n roll” underneath a cartoon rock and dinner roll, Wayne proclaims that it’s even cornier than the ones in the trailer. 
Eddie’s face lights up at the present from Max and Lucas—a new Walkman and some heavy metal cassettes. 
A pit forms in your stomach: is your gift going to be enough? Will he even like it? Was this whole thing a bad—
“Holy shit.”
You look up to see Eddie staring awestruck at the now-unwrapped present; specifically, the present you got for him. It’s an autographed Metallica poster that you’d spotted at the mall months ago, before his birthday was even a consideration. You’d bought it and kept it safely in your room, waiting for the perfect time to give it to him. 
“Sweetheart, this is…” He just shakes his head, blinking misty eyes. “Wow. I, um…thank you,” he finally manages. 
Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had seen that same poster just last week. He had Brittany’s shopping bags clutched in his hands when he walked towards the record store. 
Kirk Hammett’s signature called to him like a siren. 
Eddie was just about ready to pay for it when Brittany marched over, plucking it from his grip and mumbling something about not having room for any more of his stupid music shit. 
That had been the end of that. 
“You’re welcome,” you say with a small shrug, as if it was nothing at all. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” That wasn’t too much to say, right? It’s normal to think of someone when you see something you know they’d love, right? Even if that person is your boss?
Once Luke stops scavenging through his father’s presents like one might be hidden there for him, he looks up at his dad with wide, pleading eyes that he most definitely inherited from the man. 
“Time for caaaake?”
Eddie snorts and playfully rolls his eyes. A ringed hand comes down to ruffle the little boy’s curls.
“I guess we could have cake now.”
The Munson boys and the Harrington sibling duo cheer in excitement and beat everyone else into the kitchen. All you can hear as the kids disappear into the next room is an I’m okay! from Luke.
Steve taps you on the shoulder as you step over the threshold into the kitchen.
“Hey, could you give me a hand with the cake?” he asks. 
“Sure.” You follow Steve over to the refrigerator, silently wondering how many women had actually denied the handsome man anything when he asked in such a smooth voice. 
The cake looks delicious as Steve pulls it out of the fridge. Nancy definitely put in some work to make sure it turned out this lovely. The cream cheese frosting is smooth on all sides with delicate piping lining the edge of the rectangular sheet cake. In a beautiful scrawl that is far nicer than your own handwriting, she had written “Happy Birthday Eddie!” in black gel icing. 
Steve sets the cake down on the gray granite counter and reaches for a drugstore bag that has a pack of candles and a lighter in it. The two of you work as a team to plug the cake with the multicolored striped sticks and take turns lighting different sides of the cake. 
“You got it?” Steve asks as he steps over towards the light switches on the wall.
“Yep,” you assure him as you carefully lift the flaming desert off the counter. Turning around to face the table proves the most difficult part as you slowly spin your body while keeping the cake steady. 
Eddie is seated at the table, kids surrounding him on all sides as they clamor about what’s taking so long with the cake. Taking so long? You thought you and Steve worked pretty efficiently together. 
“Watch out rugrats,” Dustin says, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulling him out of your way. 
You give the curly haired man a grateful smile before you slide the cake onto the table right in front of Eddie. As you go to pull your arms away, pale, calloused fingers reach up and rest against your skin for a moment.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie says. 
All you did was carry a cake over but you’re more than glad to receive praise from your boss any time that you can. 
Steve flips the kitchen lights off and everyone breaks into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Ryan stands right in front of you as you sing, and you rest your hands on his small shoulders. 
“Make a wish!” Luke calls from Dustin’s side once the singing ended. He watches as his dad purses his lips, thinking of a wish. The dim lighting in the room may be playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Eddie’s eyes flickered over to you before he took a deep breath and blew out all thirty-something of the candles on the first try. 
“Yay!” Luke cheers while everyone else claps. “Whatcha wish for?”
Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “He can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”
“For my last birthday I wished for a pet,” Luke says. 
“Is that why you dug up the worm in the backyard?” Eddie asks.
“Yep,” Luke announces, a proud smile on his face. 
“Wormy Munson is missed,” Ryan says, patting his little brother’s shoulder. 
The attention quickly turns from squiggly little pets when Nancy asks the room, “Who wants a piece?”
“Me!” Four children’s hands shoot up at the same time, but Nancy just shakes her head at them.
“Birthday boy gets first crack at it,” she says as she slices a piece and transfers it to a Darth Vader paper plate. Nancy delivers that and a plastic fork to Eddie before returning to the counter to cut slices for the rest of the guests. 
When you get your piece of cake, you slip into a seat next to Eddie’s at the table. 
“So, carrot cake, huh?” you ask him with a playful smirk on your face. 
“Hey, gotta get vegetables into these kids somehow,” Eddie says, reaching behind him to tickle Ryan’s belly. The older boy laughs and moves out of his dad’s reach. 
“Broccoli brownies next?” you ask, a shit eating grin on your face before you pop a chunk of cake into your mouth.
“Such a smart ass,” Eddie teases, scooping some of his icing onto his pinky and wiping it off on the tip of your nose. Both boys giggle as you try to reach it with your tongue, trying to stretch it out as far as possible to lick it off. Though the boys found it funny, Eddie had an entirely different feeling wash over him as he watched your tongue snake out to try and lick the white substance off your face. His pants tighten and Eddie shifts in his seat, trying to hide his crotch further beneath the table. 
Guests drift in and out of the kitchen with their plates of cake, mingling with one another out in the living room. You offer to collect the paper plates up for the garbage once everyone is done. You’re carrying the stack back towards the kitchen when you hear Steve and Eddie having a conversation in there. It’s pretty clear this is just meant to be between them, but when you hear Steve’s question to his best friend, your feet become glued to the floor. 
“Think you’ll finally get lucky tonight since it’s your birthday?” 
Eddie snorts. “It doesn’t seem like it.” You can practically picture him nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom where Brittany is probably snoring her ass off as she sleeps off her alcohol. You really hope she has a hangover tomorrow. 
“Not what I meant, dude,” Steve replies.
This catches you off guard. Who could Steve possibly be talking about if not Brittany? Does… A sickening thought winds its way through your brain, claws taking hold in those places that are already prone to insecurities. Does Eddie have a girlfriend? It’s not like you would judge him for it after Brittany’s whoring around is common knowledge. But it drives an ice pick through your heart just picturing Eddie with his own awful, evil wife. Knowing he might be with someone who could be kind and caring should comfort you—but it doesn’t. It makes you want to tear your skin off to think of Eddie with anyone else but you. Because if he wasn’t going to be with Brittany, you wanted him to be with you. And if you didn’t even get a chance to show him what the two of you could be together? The idea threatened to destroy you. 
“Watch it Harrington,” Eddie answers Steve, his voice low. It’s the closest thing to a warning you’ve ever heard from him. 
A familiar toddler’s cry abruptly ends their conversation and your now-agonizing eavesdropping. Eddie shakes his head, giving Steve one last glare as he walks out of the kitchen, and looks over at a wailing Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair. 
Ryan scrunches his face. “Daddy, play her the song!”
“Yeah, play it!” Luke echoes, hands pressed to his ears. 
Now you’re intrigued. “What song?”
Eddie sighs. “Boys, I don’t think anyone wants to hear me play—”
“Au contraire,” Dustin butts in with a smirk. He hands Eddie his acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “I think we’d all love a little concert.”
Eddie gives you a look that pleads help me out here, but you’re already invested. 
“Concert! Concert!” You chant, laughing when the others join in. 
He doesn’t say anything, just slips the strap over his shoulder and quickly tunes the guitar. 
“If…you’re…happy and you know it, clap your hands!”
Everyone in the room claps twice. Everyone except Tiffany, who is still wailing. 
“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands!”
Same result. 
“All right, all right. Let’s skip to a different verse.” Eddie takes in the baby’s squealing form. 
“If…you’re…angry and you know it, do a growl.” He lets out the most ridiculous roar you’ve ever heard, and you can’t help but laugh. 
From her mother’s arms, Tiffany lets out a roar of her own. Your giggle catches her attention, and she reaches out for you to hold her. 
For a moment, Eddie believes his heart is going to implode from the sweet scene in front of him. He wills himself to concentrate on playing, but the sight of you holding a baby girl weakens his resolve. How many times has he daydreamed about you holding his baby girl that he shares with you? Probably too many times on the job for someone who deals with heavy machinery. In his mind she has your hair and his eyes—though he knows she’d probably gets his curls since both boys have them to a degree.
Tiffany bounces in your arms, enraptured in the music. If Eddie plays Old MacDonald, she’ll be mind-blown. 
The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice, enthusiastic enough to capture Tiffany’s attention without riling her up, has your heart beating double time. Though you’ve known from the beginning that Eddie plays guitar, this is the first time you actually get to witness it. It’s as sexy as you’ve always imagined—even if he’s only playing nursery rhymes.
“There we go,” Eddie murmurs as whatever had been bothering the little girl seemingly dissipates. He grins at Max and Lucas. “That should buy you about five minutes before the next meltdown.”
Sure enough, the crying starts up again, signaling the party’s end. Hugs are exchanged as everyone clears out; final “happy birthday’s” sent Eddie’s way.
There’s a small tug on your arm just as you’re about to grab your purse. “Can you tuck us into bed?” Ryan asks, eyes wide. Luke’s at his side, nodding in agreement. 
“Of course.” Always the babysitter, you think, but you truly enjoy being a part of their lives. The fact that they also enjoy it makes it even better.
The youngest Munson beams at you. “Maybe you can sleep over!”
“Uh, not this time. Sorry, kiddo.”
After teeth have been brushed and bedtime stories have been read, you retreat back to the kitchen. Eddie is clipping open bags of potato chips, and you start to gather any used paper platesto toss in the trash. 
“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the stack of disposable cups in your hand. 
You cock your brow and smirk. “Do you really wanna clean all of this by yourself?”
“Fuck no.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He smiles back at you, shaking his head when he notices icing smeared on the back of a kitchen chair. “Should’ve put the boys on clean-up duty” he grunts.
“Then everything would just get shoved under the couch and they’d call it a day,” you point out, and he readily agrees.
Once the floor has been swept and the leftover food has been placed in the refrigerator, you have no valid excuse to stay any longer.
“I should get going,” you say, plucking your keys from your bag and twirling the chain around your forefinger. “I hope you had a good birthday.”
Eddie nods as he walks with you to the front door. He holds it open for you, then follows you out to your car. “Yeah, it was great. Especially your gift. It, um, meant a lot.” A slight rosiness tinges his cheeks, and he pulls you in for a hug.
You return it easily, your arms wrapping around his torso. Both of you hold on a beat longer than necessary, but you can’t seem to pull away.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. He leans in; for a moment, it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of your head, but he takes a step back. Eddie’s done it so many times in his mind before that he almost forgot he doesn’t get to do it in real life. “Get home safe, yeah?”
“I will.” You duck into your car, giving him a small wave before you pull out of the driveway. As you drive, you watch Eddie trudge back into the house from your rearview mirror.
Once he’s inside, he closes the door and breathes out a sigh. He adjusts himself over his pants, painfully aware that he’s half-hard from a simple hug. Looking towards the bedroom he shares with Brittany, he pivots away and beelines towards the Tupperware of cookies you’d made.
Taking a big bite, he chews thoughtfully, delaying the inevitable. If only he could curl up next to you instead of her. He chuckles at the insanity of the idea and takes another bite of cookie.
“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”
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ay0nha · 2 years ago
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Boiling Point | Chef Luca (Prologue)
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(working) SUMMARY: A well- known food critic is retiring. Apart of this condition is that you continue writing on his behalf as if he hadn’t. To show you the ropes, he implores Luca to teach you what it takes to enter the culinary world.
There he was. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night
PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader (food journalist/critic)
WORD COUNT: 1.4K
WARNINGS: smoking, drinking, canon-typical things, future enemies to lovers sort of, mutual pining, inspiration from Kitchen Confidential and the movie Boiling Point, etc.
A/N: Just a little sneak peek/intro to this request. Might do a short series (three/four parts)...stay tuned. It’s a little choppy at the moment, so I hope it makes sense. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged. Comments are always appreciated! Enjoy.
Deep breaths helped.
The nicotine’s warmth sparked excitement in your veins. It made a tedious night seem just bearable with each inhale. You eyed the falling ash as if it were tea leaves promising your near future. Yet, when your eyes surveyed the crowd within the restaurant, it cemented the dull company you’d join.
Excusing yourself was easy. Slipping away wasn’t the issue; it was expected as the call for a cigarette completed your image. The cliché of it made your mouth pucker with your final drag.
“There you are...” A hand settled on your shoulder. Ryan. “They’re ordering another bottle as we speak.” Lighting her own cigarette, she cursed. “We better fucking land this deal—I’m about to max out the company card.”
Flicking your roach under the point of your heel, you scoffed, “Please, if I have to hear that man say heavenly one more time, I’ll—
“You’ll smile.” She reminded you. It was an instruction, really. “Nod your head, agree with anything—Everything.”
“He said supposebly.” You tutted. “I can’t take him seriously.”
“He’s ancient. Cut him some slack!” She laughed. Charm came second nature to Ryan; you weren’t convinced she even knew its effect on people. “He’s sweet on you.”
“Right…” You tried to make out the stars, but the light pollution fought against you. “So, what? I marry him for the life insurance?”
“Let’s just make it through dessert,” Ryan spoke definitively, always cutting through. Yet, room always remained to entertain you. “Then we can talk wedding plans.”
The man that waited for you was Avery Sinclair—world-renowned something. You had listened, but the information had already left you. Those around you, though, knew who sat across from you well. They were almost as good as you hiding their discomfort. Eyes were always on him, knowing his thoughts before he could form them. New forks were laid after the slightest touch, napkin splayed on his lap before he could lift it himself, and every meal came with the chef that made it.
He was respected.
Yet, all you saw was his brittle and thin mustache, sitting upon his lip like forgotten food. The comb-over was just as wirey and pulled kindness to his cheeks. They flushed now as he flirted with another glass of wine.
“There you are!” He bubbled. With a wave of his hand, your diligent waitress returned with the Italian bottle. “I ordered the oak-aged white. It has a buttery note that is just heavenly with the gelée.”
You smiled.
“I cannot believe our night is coming to an end.” Ryan charmed. She held her nose to the glass, listening intently as Mr. Sinclair explained each technique to her. The slurping was a bit much.
“My dear, this is just a start.” The deal was confirmed with those words alone. A part of you wished the promise had a false bottom. “We can draft up something agreeable, I’m sure?”
He looked at you. You had that feeling like you’d forgotten to walk. Each step felt forced and off. You played off your misstep cleverly, your glass raising to the center, “I look forward to working together.”
Ryan was impressed, pride swelling in her chest. She and you were an unmistakable duo. Angel and devil. Thelma and Louise. Introvert and extrovert.  Fill in any this and that, and there you two were. Most importantly, she was the publicist, and you were the writer.
“Under one condition…” Mr. Sinclair smiled, far too tickled by your toast. He leaned in, elbows brushing the circular table. “Do you know why I chose this place tonight?”
You hadn’t expected the question. Your answer came out blunt. “Favoritism.”
“You’re sharp.” He smiled broadly, wagging his manicured finger at you. “Exactly that. Look around you…”
You took a genuine moment.  The perception of fine dining was all theatrics. It was a large show that ran every night of the week. Even those who dined were an unassuming audience. Those swiveling doors may as well be the curtain line to backstage. The kitchen, the dressing room. The dripping alleyway, the green room.
You were all too aware of the communication chain. The insults were coded frustrations that later into the service would be water under the bridge. There was a reason for everyone being here just as you were.
“We’re all cut from the same cloth. You, me, dear Ryan.” Mr. Sinclair smiled at her. “We all express our passions differently, but we love just the same.”
He felt content. His body relaxed with his decision to hire you. Sinclair could see how you hadn’t quite trusted yourself with the responsibility that he was putting on your shoulders. But he was confident you’d grow into it perfectly.
“I hope you understand the reasons for my poetics—” The rumors and gossip about him failed to do his sincerity justice. “—as I’m trusting you with my legacy.”
“Of course.” You gave another smile; this time, it felt real.
“Excuse my sentimentality!” Mr. Sinclair clasped his hands together in a soft clap. You could almost see tears forming in the corner of his eyes.   “With that out of the way, dessert? The pastry chef here is—” His favoritism came into play. “—is something special.”
You could picture the chef now, cursing at the interruption. Hopefully, complaining about the big wig seated at table seven wasn’t worth his time. You waited for the rehearsed, polite decline.
Apologies, however, our chef is tied up between aeration.
But there he was, Chef Luca. His pristine white jacket contrasted perfectly against the warm ambiance of the evening. The distance was covered within a few long strides, and once at the table, his charmed smile made you nauseous. He played his part better than you had that night.
His features were tight, unwavering as the compliments poured. Your lips twitched down as you took him in. With his hands behind his back, his chest pulled broadly, but you could still make out the littered tattoos on his forearms. Typical.
Even with his eyes on you, you hadn’t shied from your judgment. You only stopped when you heard your name.
“Isn’t that right?” Ryan prompted you again, defined features expressing her sternness. Focus.  “You always talk about how much you love to bake.”
You don’t.
“Sure.” You nodded.
“A match made in heaven, then!” Mr. Sinclair exclaimed. “You must get to know Luca; he has the most interesting story!”
In your short assessment, you already disparaged his comment. To you, Luca was, like you, a walking cliché.
“I don’t doubt that…” Your sarcasm was palpable. Luca’s stoicism broke with a smirk of confusion. “Let me guess... You were a troublemaker?” Your tone was teasing but bordered something wicked.  “Cooking put you straight, and you owe your life to grease and adrenaline.”
“Forgot to mention that I’m a hard-partying criminal.” Luca didn’t waste a beat. Impressive.
“And when did the anger issues start?” You hummed. You played at every stereotype you knew. “Before or after your—
“I think what she means to say—” Ryan cut in seamlessly. She came prepared for your shenanigans. “—is that she admires the journey you’ve taken to get here.”
Luckily, Mr. Sinclair was far too enamored with the preciseness of the dessert to interpret the sudden banter.
“Of course.” Luca looked at you. Then as you had only moments ago, he pulled a practiced expression to address his loyal customer. “Mr. Sinclair, as always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Unfortunately, I must savor tonight.” He spoke. “My home on the Amalfi coast has been quite lonely.” Sinclair let out a regretful sigh. “I trust you to keep this between us, yes?”
Luca nodded. “Of course.”
“You will be a very lucky man, son.” Sinclair further divulged the secrets behind his retirement. “I hope you heed my advice and get to know this young lady.”
All eyes were on you.
“She will continue to write for me. Use my name.” He explained your purpose. You weren’t ready to hear it aloud. “So treat her kindly, or you will have to answer to me.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Luca almost protested. It seemed elaborate to allow someone so young—you— to take his place.
“Be open. Present.” Sinclair answered. He wasn’t a man of riddles, but you noticed that the more he spoke, the harder to understand. “You were once new. You had to figure it out on your own. Maybe you can help her, show her your world. Our world.”
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silkfyre · 2 years ago
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W.I.D
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The following content does not limit the type of requests I accept. If there is a topic or character that is not listed, but you wish to have included feel free to ask! If I’m ever uncomfortable with something I will simply deny the request.
HIGHLIGHTED names are my personal favorite characters. 
WRITING
Fluff
Smut
Angst
Yandere
Violence
Dub-Con
Polyamory
OTHER
Fancasts
Writing Tips
Script Creation
Character Building
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CHARACTERS
HORROR
The Boy
Brahms Heelshire
The Quarry
Abigail Blyg
Emma Mountebank
Jacob Custos
Laura Kearney
Max Brinley
Ryan Erzahler
Travis Hackett
The Lost Boys
David
Dwayne
Marko
Michael
Paul
House of Wax
Bo Sinclair
Lester Sinclair
Vincent Sinclair
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface)
Halloween
Michael Myers
Scream
Billy Loomis
Randy Meeks
Stu Macher
American Horror Story
James Patrick March
Jimmy Darling
Yellowjackets
Lottie Matthews
Misty Quigley
Natalie Scatorccio
Shauna Sadecki
Taissa Turner
Van Palmer
SCI-FI
The Boys
A-Train
Billy Butcher
Black Noir
Frenchie
Homelander
Hughie Campbell
Kimiko Miyashiro
Mother's Milk
Queen Maeve
Soldier Boy
Starlight
Detroit: Become Human
Chloe
Conner
Gavin Reed
Hank Anderson
Josh
Kara
Luther
Markus
North
Ralph
Rk600 (Sixty)
RK900 (Nines)
Simon
Fallout
Fallout 4
Deacon
John Hancock
Nick Valentine
Paladin Danse
Piper Shaw
Preston Garvey
Robert MacCready
Fallout (series)
Aspirant Dane
Chet
Cooper Howard (The Ghoul)
Knight Maximus
Lucy MacClean
Norm MacLean
Alien vs Predator
coming soon!
Stranger Things
Steve Harrington
The Walking Dead
Daryl Dixon
Eugene Porter
James Cameron’s Avatar
Eetu
Lyle Wainfleet
Mansk
Miles Quaritch
Nor
So’lek
Teylan
Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan
SUPERNATURAL
TVD Verse
Bonnie Bennett
Caroline Forbes
Damon Salvatore
Elena Gilbert
Elijah Mikaelson
Finn Mikaelson
Jeremy Gilbert
Katherine Pierce
Kol Mikaelson
Niklaus Mikaelson
Rebekah Mikaelson
Stefan Salvatore
FANTASY
Baldur’s Gate 3
Astarion Ancunín
Dammon
Gale Dekarios
Halsin
Karlach Cliffgate
Lae’zel
Raphael
Rolan
Shadowheart
Wyll Ravengard
Zevlor
REALISM
Red Dead Redemption II
Albert Mason
Arthur Morgan
Charles Smith
Dutch Van Der Linde
Flaco Hernández
Javier Escuella
John Marston
Kieran Duffy
Sadie Adler
Call of Duty
John Price
John “Soap” MacTavish
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
Simon “Ghost” Riley
Grand Theft Auto
Franklin Clinton
Michael De Santa
Trevor Philips
Outer Banks
Pope Heyward
Rafe Cameron
Sarah Cameron
Topper Thornton
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W.I.D.D
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Notes :: There may be some things on these lists that are debatable. If they are something I’m willing to write under certain circumstances then it will be ITALICEZED.
WRITING
Racism
Ableism
Ageplay
Underage
Homophobia
Transphobia
Character x Character (w/o reader)
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CHARACTERS
Bubba Sawyer
Freddy Krueger
Pennywise
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stargazing-sapphire2 · 7 months ago
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Welcome to my blog
Call me Sapphire. I mostly write for Call of Duty on this blog, but also for multiple other fandoms when the obsession gets me. As this is a remake of my old account, I will be attempting to repost old fanfics as well as new ones to add on.
-This is an 18+ account. If you a minor, you will be blocked on sight.
-I will usually lore dump and talk about my OCs on here. My inbox is open for you to spam about your own OCs and fics, so I happily welcome the asks!
-I will start taking writing requests on this blog to try my hand at it. Whether its OCxCanon, CanonxCanon, or X reader content. Just send me your OC's bio in a request and i will do the best I can with it
-I will write for almost anything, within reason. While I won't shy away from most dark and upsetting topics, I will bring up a subject I'm uncomfortable with to not write it. Trigger warnings will also be added in these posts.
-Anon hate will just be deleted/ignored, so don't bother sending it, please.
LINKS:
Call of Duty OCs:
COD - Ghosts:
Elizabeth "Beth" Ashford
Arabella Walker *IN PROGRESS*
Henry Ashford
Helena Rorke
Evangeline "Eva" Ashford
COD - Black Ops:
Lars Pääkkönen
Lydia Graves *IN PROGRESS*
Elena Anderson *IN PROGRESS*
Aleksi and Sveta Pääkkönen *IN PROGRESS*
COD - Modern Warfare (OG and Reboot):
Serena "Alias" Peterson / Metal Zero-5 *IN PROGRESS*
Anya Orlova
Alice "Bones" McGrath *IN PROGRESS*
Ryan Smith *IN PROGRESS*
Catriona Valdés *IN PROGRESS*
Kristoff "Avalanche" Jorgensen *IN PROGRESS*
Laena Thompson *IN PROGRESS*
COD - Advanced Warfare:
Yelena Gavrikova *IN PROGRESS*
COD - WW2 / World At War:
Gunnar Pääkkönen
Archer Sinclair *IN PROGRESS*
Anatoly Flyorov *IN PROGRESS*
FANFIC MASTERLIST (For now):
Command Me To Be Well
The Devil's Gambit
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ao3feed-torchwood · 1 year ago
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The Teas (12 x Reader)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/53902150 by noodleleg They were called the Troublesome Trio. The Doctor, Bill Potts and Reader... They would gas a planet with laughs and save people by the dozen. They would conquer monsters and be hailed as heroes. But what really set them apart was their personalities. A very British orphaned lesbian with a deep love for the Doctor and adventure, A beautiful minded reader from a broken home who also loves the Doctor and the kindness he brings to all.. and then there's the Doctor himself... in love with a past companion he refuses to accept that it wasn't. his. fault. All have their flaws, let's see if they can fix eachother with lovely smiles and the fun they deserve. Words: 34390, Chapters: 9/20, Language: English Fandoms: Doctor Who, Torchwood Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Characters: Twelfth Doctor, Bill Potts, Reader, Thirteenth Doctor, Missy (Doctor Who), The Master (Dhawan), The Master (Doctor Who), River Song, Jack Harkness, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, Twelfth Doctor & Bill Potts, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Reader, Missy (Doctor Who)/Reader, Bill Potts & Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/Reader, Eighth Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, Fourth Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader
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venus-haze · 2 years ago
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ik you have your wip list but what are you working on next! details plsss i can’t wait🩷
Hey anon! I have so many fic ideas that aren’t even on my WIP list so you’re good lol. I definitely want to have a Queen Maeve fic and a Baby Firefly fic posted by the end of the month (fingers crossed!). I mostly write based on what I have inspiration for, which as of right now involves Vincent Sinclair, Mickey Altieri, Otis Driftwood, Homelander, and Father Paul Hill. Details under the cut.
🦇 Battie
Celebrity Skin - The first Vincent Sinclair fic I’m writing in months! You’re a former child star who’s become jaded toward the film industry and take a road trip to “find yourself” while you consider your retirement from acting. Your car breaks down (it’s a House of Wax fic after all), and Bo recognizes you as Vincent’s little celebrity crush growing up. He’s such a thoughtful brother that he knocks you out and brings you to Vincent’s lair studio where you have to act your ass off to not become the first celebrity addition to the wax museum…after a while you’re not sure if you’re acting anymore.
Girls on Film - Has there been a Mickey Altieri renaissance recently? I swear I’ve gotten so many more asks regarding him and responses to my fics. Anyway, Mickey’s your film studies classmate who secretly hates your guts. It all boils over when the two of you get paired up for a short film project and he makes last minute changes to it that you probably won’t live to see
Pretty Tied Up - I’m gonna tell y’all right now that this is gonna be an Otis Driftwood fic with a dozen trigger warnings and probably long as hell because I have a whole set-up to the meat of the fic thought out already. Kinda wanna make it at least an implied plus size reader
The Hand That Feeds You - A Homelander fic vaguely set toward the latter part of S3 and before S4 of The Boys, you land the job of being Ryan’s nanny/tutor but come to find the gig has also served as a working interview itself, one where Homelander sees how much he can entangle you in the fabric of the family he’s trying to build (spouse audition time! Trying to make this one gender neutral. Not sure if the reader will be a supe or not, I’m leaning toward a human reader)
Also I have a very detailed idea for Father Paul x Nun!Reader, but I think it might be headcanons because otherwise the fic will end up being longer than Sinnerman which was 7k words. If y’all don’t mind a monster fic that’ll probably take a while to be posted, though, I’m down! I just hate writing multi-chapter fics so I’d wanna post it in one go.
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hellion-writes · 4 years ago
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Doctor Who Incorrect Quotes #1
(Y/n), quietly: I think I love you
13, distracted: hm?
(Y/n), panicking: I said that I’d sell you to a zoo
----
Alien: What are your names?
(Y/n), whispering: Can we tell them our real names?
9: No.
(Y/n): My name is... Mickey.
Mickey: The one time they remember my name...
----
Yaz: Hey (Y/n), Ryan
(Y/n), visibly nervous: Hey, what’s going on?
Yaz: Why, is there something wrong?
Ryan: Nope, everything’s cool right now
(Y/n):
(Y/n): Might be some problems later, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it
Graham, from the other room answering the phone: Hello? 
(Y/n) and Ryan, cringing:
Graham: They did what?!
(Y/n): Well, we best be getting to work
Yaz: We’re in a time machine-
(Y/n) and Ryan, sprinting out of the room: You said it! Take it easy
----
Amy: Why are you upside down?
11, upside down: Why are you rightside up?
----
Missy: And then (Y/n) said “why can’t I be pretty like you?” 
(Y/n): That’s nowhere near what happened
Missy: It’s how I remember it
(Y/n): Yeah, cuz you’re demented
Missy: Oh, so you think I’m pretty and demented?
----
11: You are alone in the woods, you’re disrespecting the buddy system
(Y/n): Actually, you were the one that left me
11: I really don’t need any sass from you right now
----
Donna, watching (Y/n) fall on their face trying to save her: Oh god my life is in the hands of an idiot
10: No, no, no, no! Two idiots
----
(Y/n): And that’s when it hit me! The best idea I’ve ever had in my entire life
Martha: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life
----
(Y/n): I don’t know, I just get the vibe that you hate me or something
Dhawan!Master: What? Me, hating you?
Dhawan!Master, softly: You’re right
----
Missy, ripping open the shower curtain: (Y/n), have you seen the- 
Missy: Stop screaming, it’s just me
Missy: Anyways, do you know where the vortex manipulator went?
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corroded-hellfire · 9 months ago
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Prompt Day 3: Best Friends
Word Count: 893
Rating: G
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
CW: Language
Summary: Part of the As You Wish universe! A conversation between kids leads to an interesting conversation between Eddie and his former bandmates.
@corrodedcoffinfest
[As You Wish masterlist]
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There isn’t a cloud in the sky, giving the sun plenty of opportunity to smile down on the Fourth of July Barbeque you and Eddie are throwing. This is the first time you’re hosting a party in your new house and it’s going pretty well, if you do say so yourself. 
The worst of the day’s heat had burned off and Eddie just lit the grill to get it all warmed up and ready to go. He closes the lid and makes his way back over to the outdoor table that his old bandmates are all sitting around. 
It wasn’t often that they all got to get together since everyone had their own lives and families these days, but it made those rare times all the more fun.
“Should be ready soon,” Eddie says as he plops back down in his chair. The hot concrete of the patio is too much for his bare feet, so he picks them up and rests them on one of the supportive bars under the table. From where he’s seated, Eddie can see through the cutout window on the back door, into the kitchen where Max and Gareth’s wife, Tammy, are getting all the food ready to be brought outside. 
Eddie would be the one doing most of the grilling, but Max insisted on grilling the corn on the cob because Eddie was notorious for burning it. 
“How was the drive up here?” Frank asks Jeff before taking a sip from his beer can.
“Not bad,” Jeff says with the shake of his head. “Most of the traffic was going the other way. Guess not many people were coming into Hawkins for Fourth of July.”
Just as Eddie is about to remark on the fun Fourth of Julys they’d had as teens in Hawkins, a small voice whines from the ground next to him.
“Theo!” Danny Harrington huffs, dropping the piece of green chalk he was coloring on the concrete with. “Luke said I could draw the tree!”
“You can draw one here,” Luke says, leaning closer to the younger boy and pointing to a blank space on the patio. 
“Don’t be such a baby,” Theo says to his brother.
“Theo, be nice,” Eddie scolds his nephew. 
Steve is over at the kiddie pool, kneeling by its side while his daughter Mia, three-year-old Tiffany Sinclair, and Jeff’s five-year-old son Brian splash around. Nancy is on the other side of the yard, playing cornhole with you, Ryan, Natalie, Jeff’s oldest daughter Candace, Gareth’s daughter Lynna, and Frank’s girlfriend Sara. Eddie knew they’d thank him for squashing a potential squabble between their boys had they heard it.
The eldest Harrington boy sighs. “Danny’s just mad ‘cause Luke is my best friend and not his.”
“I said you’re both my best friends,” Luke says, not looking up from the drawing of a fish he was etching. 
“I think you can only have one,” Jeff’s middle child, seven-year-old Jasmine, says, scanning through the pieces of chalk to determine what color she should use next. 
“That’s not true,” Luke says, finally pausing his drawing. He lets the orange slab of chalk roll out of his hand and turns his body to look at his father. “Daddy, your best friend is Uncle Steve. But he wasn’t your best friend in school, right?” Luke didn’t wait for his father to confirm. “Who was your best friend in high school?”
“Yeah, Eddie,” Gareth says, a playful smirk growing on his face as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Who was your best friend in high school?”
Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding.
“Didn’t you hear what my boy said? Can have more than one.”
“I bet it was my daddy,” Jasmine says absentmindedly as she continues her drawing. 
Her comment makes Frank and Gareth chuckle.
“Aww, Jazzy! You don’t think I was Uncle Eddie’s best friend?” Gareth asks the little girl. 
“No.”
Her bluntness makes all four men at the table laugh, and Frank has to cover his mouth to avoid spitting out his beer. 
“Who was it, Uncle Eddie?” Theo asks. 
The three other former Corroded Coffin members look at Eddie with expectant faces, amusement gleaming in each of their eyes. 
Eddie wasn’t used to being the one to answer questions as their former DM—he was the one who told them what was what back then. 
“Nancy,” Eddie finally says. His asshole friends were having fun messing with him, then he was going to take the wind out of their sails. “Nancy was my best friend in high school.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Danny says knowingly.
Jeff, Gareth, and Frank bust out in laughter when the six-year-old calls their friend’s bluff.
A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, and he drops his head forward in defeat. 
“Oh, it’s alright, Eddie,” Gareth says, leaning back in his chair once more. His fingers wrap around the neck of his beer bottle and as he brings it up towards his mouth he adds, “We all know your best friend was O’Donnell.”
Jeff throws back his head and cackles in laughter while Frank’s rumbling laugh goes on so long that it turns into a coughing spell. 
Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes skyward. 
“You know,” Eddie says, voice dripping in sarcasm, “it’s such a shame we all don’t get together more.”
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noforkingclue · 5 years ago
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Hi!! I love your writing! Sorry to be a pain in the ass, if you write him can I request a Ryan x reader fic that's like a bit angsty with like a nice ending. Thanks, sorry if you don't write for him x
I do write for him! I write for companions as well as for any Doctor and Master!
Ryan needs more love!
Title: Insecurities
Tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings,  @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries
You snuggled against Ryan’s chest finding the sound of his heartbeat comforting. Ryan ran his finger through your hair. After a long day of running way from a particularly violent alien, it was nice to finally relax with you in his arms. However his mind was elsewhere.
“Y/n.” he said
“Yes dear?”
“Why are you with me?”
You looked up in shock.
“What do you mean?”
“Out of all the guys you could’ve picked why did you pick me?”
“Because I love you.”
“Why?” he held you tightly, “I’m not the smartest or the most handsome guy you know. I can’t even ride a bike! You could do a lot better.”
You sat up and poked him in the chest.
“Is this about you falling over while we were running back to the TARDIS?”
Ryan sighed and looked away. That was all the confirmation you needed. You closed your eyes and when you opened them against you cupped Ryan’s cheek and moved his head so he was facing you.
“It doesn’t matter,” you said firmly, “We’re all alive and that’s what matters.”
“But we could’ve died,” he said, “When you stopped to help me I thought that you we going to. When the alien swiped at you…”
He broke off and tears rolled down his cheeks.
“If you died because of me I could never live with myself.”
“Don’t say things like that! We’re both alive and the worst that happened was that I lost a jacket.”
“But-“
“You listen here! I love you Ryan Sinclair. You are the smartest, handsomest guy I know. You always make me laugh and have my back in any situation. I have never known someone to stick up for me as much as you do and I adore you for that. Besides, there are more important things in the world then knowing how to ride a bike. But when you want to have another go at learning I will be right by your side. You’re my biggest supporter and I’m yours. Nothing is ever going to make me stop loving you.”
Ryan stared at you in shock.
“Really?”
“Every single word.”
He smiled and brought his hands up to your cheeks.
“You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”
“Even better than the Doctor?”
“That goes without saying.”
You smiled and pressed your lips against his. Ryan wrapped his arms around your waist and you shifted so you were straddling him. You put your hands on his chest and when the two of you broke the kiss you rested your forehead against his.
“I love you Ry.”
“And I love you y/n.”
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imaginesoftheuniverse · 6 years ago
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Part One, Requested by anon
Okay, you could do this. There wasn’t anything to it. Just need to...actually say it. And manage to tear him away from everyone long for you to to say it. Two steps. Two very big steps, but you could do it.
“Nope - nope, can’t do it!” you muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. You were psyching yourself up and there was absolutely no need for it, but that��s what nerves were for, right? Nerves and anxiety.
“Everything all right?” you jumped at the sound of Ryan’s voice from behind you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, brows furrowed in concern. Damn it, this was not helping you at the moment!
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine...I think,” you muttered the last bit, glancing down and tugging at the sleeves of your jacket.
“You sure? You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?” He could see right through you. You chewed the inside of your cheek, mulling the consequences over in your head but after a moment, you decided it was time to get it out into the universe.
“I like you,” you blurted out, eyes going wide as soon as you said it. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. “I mean, I like you - a lot - and definitely as more than a friend, and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I was just talking with the Doctor and she said I should go for it and I kind of didn’t want to tell you but I just had to get it out in the open and -,”
“(Y/N),” he interrupted, and you snapped your mouth shut, glancing down, “I like you, too. Glad you said something before granddad tried to.”
“Wait, what?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Ryan liked you back?
“Yeah, I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know if you liked me back or anything. Gramps said he was gonna do it for me if I didn’t do it first, so really glad you beat both of us to it.”
“Oh,” you said quietly, cheeks heating up the slightest as you realized he had been in the same predicament as you. “So...what now?”
“We could start with a date. Would probably be nice to just sit and talk with each other instead of running for our lives for once.” You laughed, nodding and giving him a smile.
“I’d love that.”
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myoddessy · 3 years ago
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HEADCANON MASTERLIST
STRANGER THINGS !!
( eddie munson ) bimbo!reader headcanons
( eddie munson ) the boyfriendism of eddie munson
( lucas sinclair ) the boyfriendism of lucas sinclair
( poly!lumax ) general dating headcanons
( poly!byler ) general dating headcanons
MARAUDERS ERA !!
none yet :(
JACKASS !!
( jackass crew ) being youngest crew member of jackass forever
( jackass crew ) youngest crew member being tony hawk's daughter (jackass forever)
( jackass crew ) hawk!daughter reader being calmer off-set & her friendship with maya hawke
( jackass crew ) what the crew likes / respects about hawk!reader
( jackass crew ) the final cup test —pleaser heels (jackass forever)
( jackass crew ) youngest crew member being johnny knoxville's daughter (jackass forever)
( johnny knoxville ) reader pulling off an insane stunt
( johnny knoxville ) reckless crew member!reader headcanons
( bam margera ) reckless crew member!reader headcanons
( steve-o ) reckless crew member!reader headcanons
( spike jonze ) famous director!reader headcanons
( spike jonze ) being his muse headcanons
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refiwrites · 3 years ago
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Heads up!
I'm opening my requests preferably for The Quarry and Stranger Things fandom! So if you're interested, kindly head over to the guidelines for the format of your request!
For The Quarry, I'm open to write for these characters:
> Jacob Custos
> Dylan Lenivy
> Nick Furcillo
> Ryan Erzahler
> Kaitlyn Ka
> Emma Mounteback
> Abigail Blyg
For Stranger Things I'll write for these characters:
> The Party (Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin)
> Max Mayfield
> Jane "Eleven" Hopper
> Nancy Wheeler
> Robin Buckley
> Eddie Munson
> Steve Harrington
> Jonathan Byers
> Argyle
Happy requesting!
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kinglivv · 3 years ago
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Something So Wrong - Chapter 6
13th Doctor x Reader AU
Summary: Yaz's suspicions are mounting, and you realise you can't hide your relationship with the Doctor from her for much longer.
Warnings: Student teacher relationship
A/N: Restarting the taglist, so let me know if you wish to be added!
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"It's not tomorrow."
"It is tomorrow."
"It's not tomorrow! He said yesterday, test on Friday, fourth period!"
Yaz glares at you from where she's sat on her bed, phone in hand and surrounded by textbooks. Ryan's sat at her desk and you're sat on the floor, also surrounded by textbooks. The difference is that yours are actually open and you're doing thework.
"I don't get why you're so stressed out about it." You say. "You're brilliant at Maths! Who cares what day the test is on, you'll always get an A."
"Wanna place a bet, then?" Ryan wagers. "If it's tomorrow, you have to pay Yaz a tenner."
"Only if she pays me a tenner when we inevitabley find out it's on Friday." You insist.
"Deal," replies Yaz, smugly. "You're gonna be ten quid short tomorrow, L/N."
You throw her a rude sign and turn back to your maths homework. You put your pencil to the page when your phone buzzes next to you, and you glance over at the screen to find a text pop up.
Doc xx: How bout Liverpool? For a day out? Xx
You grin and quickly type back an enthusiastic reply.
"Who was that?" Yaz asks, and you jump, not realising you were being watched.
"Just my Mum." You reply shortly.
A reply from the Doctor pops up, and you text her back. You can't help the blush that spreads across your cheeks at the thought of her, half way across town and probably sat at her desk surrounded by papers about space and time and physics. And she's thinking of you.
"You're looking awfully happy for it to be your Mum, Y/N." Yaz teases.
"Just asking what's for tea."
She raises an eyebrow but turns back to her homework. Although you're slightly unsure what to make of that, you brush it off and stand up.
"I'm off to grab a drink," You announce.
"Don't let us get in your way." Ryan replies, half absorbed in his graphics project.
You're barely gone for thirty seconds, saying a quick hello to Najia and grabbing a glass of water, but when you come back you're heart drops.
Yaz is sat at the edge of her bed with your phone in her hand.
"What are you doing with that?" You snatch it off her, and she jumps, looking offended.
"What? It went off! We look at each other's phone's all the time."
"I'd rather you ask, Yaz."
"Who was that? The Doc person who texted you."
"That's none of your business." You snap.
"Woah, woah." Ryan attempts to intervine, arms flapping.
"Ryan, will you go grab us some snacks from the kitchen?" Yaz asks shortly, still glaring at you, and it's more of command than a request. Go away for a minute so we can have a private conversation.
"We just ate-"
"Ryan."
"Fine! Fine." He disappears out the door.
"You're hiding something, Y/N." Yaz says when it slams shut. Somehow, without Ryan in the room, her words sound even more harsh. "What's going on? You've been acting differently recently."
"What do you mean different? Nothing's going on!" You insist, your voice going up a pitch at every word.
"You are!" She retorts. "Off school for two weeks, then that hickey, then you disappearing overnight. And I know you don't stay at your mum's because I went round the other night. Now you're texting random people I don't even know!"
"What, so I need to run all my mates by you now?"
"Are you in trouble?" She asks, suddenly sounding concerned, and it strikes you that maybe she's just worried and looking out for you. "Is it your Mum? Is something going on?"
"Yaz, I'm fine. You're reading into it."
"Then who's 'the Doc'? That sounds like a drug dealer's name! I mean, the only Doctor person you know is..." She trails off as the pin drops. "Oh shit."
Your fingers are shaking and you're frozen in your place. You purse your lips and hold your tongue, not trusting yourself to say anything. You feel as though you're going to combust.
"It's her isn't it?" said Yaz, "That's our physics teacher."
Again, you say nothing.
"Why are you texting our physics teacher?"
"I'm just getting help with homework. And for our tutoring sessions."
"You don't go to those tutoring sessions anymore, Y/N. She were talking about Liverpool!"
"It's nothing!"
"Did she give you the hickey?" She asks suddenly. "Oh my god, are you... are you dating our physics teacher?" She whispers the last words like it's a crime.
Which it is.
"Yaz, listen to me-"
She shoves you hard, and you stumble back in surprise. Yaz had always been much smarter than anyone had given her credit for.
"You are an idiot!" Her face is slightly pale. "She's a teacher, Y/N! A fully grown woman!"
"There's barely ten years between us!"
"Ten fucking years?" She hisses. "You know she could be grooming you, right? Oh my god, what if she's a paedophile?"
"Yaz, she is not a paedophile." You roll your eyes. "I... I was the one who went after her, not the other way around."
"You came onto her? What the hell were you thinking?"
"Look," You flop down on the bed in resignation. You were caught out. "Can we just talk?"
"How long has this been going on for?"
"About a month." You confess.
"You know how dangerous this is, don't you?"
"Yaz, you're not a police officer yet!" You glare. "Just sit down and hear me out."
She lies down next to you but folds her arms in an attempt to still look disapproving and defiant.
"She's amazing. Actually." You tell her as you stare at the plastic stars stuck to her ceiling. "She's where I go if my Mum is getting too much. She's picked me up loads of times from my flat and let me stay at hers where I know I'm safe for the night. She's also actually making me study for my exams and I'm beginning believe that maybe I can do it. I think she's properly one of the best things that's ever happened to me."
"You know how this sounds, don't you?"
"Like I'm an infatuated teenager," - Yaz nods - "and maybe I am. But the Doctor is a good person, even you can't deny that."
"She is," Yaz sighs, rolling onto her side to look at you. "Have you had sex with her?" She asks bluntly.
You glance at her, slightly taken a back by the bluntness.
"Yes." You reply sheepishly.
"Oh my god. Oh my god, Y/N, she is a teacher," She squeaks, and you grab her arm to stop her from pulling away. "You're really deep in the shit." She groans, swinging her forearm across her eyes.
"Yaz, I'm not a child, I know what I'm doing. You know that more than anyone."
Yaz can't help but agree there. Dealing with you mother had forced you mature and grow-up quickly, and it was obvious you could handle yourself. You weren't an idiot.
Yaz sighs. "I always knew you were her favourite student."
You laugh out loud before rolling onto her side to look her in the eye.
"Yasmin." You say seriously, and her smile fades. "No one can no about this, okay? If anyone finds out, the Doctor loses her job and I lose her. She's one of the few good things in my life right now, and I don't want to go back to a world without her."
Yaz nods.
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise."
You lock fingers, and then Ryan opens the door with a tray full of snacks.
"You two had it out? Good." The tray wobbles slightly. "Your Mum gave me loads of stuff, she didn't seem to want to stop. We won't need tea at this rate."
"Brilliant!" Yaz jumps up, helping herself. You follow, plastering a big smile on your face. However, you can't help the feeling of sinking in your guts.
Yaz knew now. Your secret was becoming a little less secret.
Taglist: @becauseseaotters @b-bae-27
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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 4 years ago
Text
Family (13th Doctor X Reader)
Characters: 13th Doctor X Reader
Universe: Doctor Who
Warning: Disownment from family, homophobia.
Request: Could I get a 13 x neutral reader ft Ryan, Graham, Yaz where they're dating + on a trip back home to Earth to see everyone's families, 13 finds out that the reader lives alone because their family disowned them for being gay? the others rush to comfort them + y/n says they're okay because they've found a better family, meaning them, and its just really soft
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The feeling of content and pure happiness was something that used to be a luxury you couldn’t afford, not matter how hard you tried. You used to have it, at least you think you did, when you were a young child, before the world’s truths and troubles came to your attention, and your own identity was brought into question, and as soon as you were exposed to that, you lost that comfort of pure happiness. You had tried to find it again, it usually making it harder to reach. At least that was until you ran into a strange yet majestic blonde woman being followed by her 3 companions, soon becoming 4 after your meeting. The second you found them, you found your happiness.
They didn’t know that. They didn’t have to. Part of you guessed they already knew, partly due to your regular occurrence of your reluctance to go home when the weekly visit home occurred, and unfortunately, that time came around again.
“Alright, see you later!” Yaz called as she waved and walked away, Graham and Ryan not far behind as they went their own way, leaving you and the Doctor at the TARDIS. She put her attention on you, expectantly. 
“What you waiting for? I’m sure you’ve got family to go and say hi to.” She questioned, nodding her head for you to get a move on. 
“Yeah, I know, I know.” You tried to smile and laugh off, going in for a final hug just to waste more time, and while she accepted it, you felt her hesitate to let go. 
“Y/N?... You’d tell me if something was up, right?” She questioned, finally parting from you. It was your turn to hesitate, fumbling over your words. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” The doctor asked, her usual smile gone and replaced with a concerned and serious frown as she kept a hand on your shoulders to keep you from running off. 
“...I don’t have a family.” The words just seemed to slip out, catching both the Doctor and yourself off guard. “I-I mean I do, but… they don’t talk to me. They want nothing to do with me, before I met you… every week when you drop me off I just spend it alone…” You admitted to her rather sheepishly. Her eyes softened, concern being replaced by sympathy… or maybe even empathy. 
“Why didn’t you say anything?... Tell you what, from now on, we’ll spend it together, how does that sound? It’ll be our own little date every week!” She suggested, and you smiled, relieved, and accepted.
The majority of the stay had gone off without a hitch- the doctor and you went out for a wander, even going to a zoo, getting ice cream and acting like kids, which was more fun than you could have imagined, before the day was coming to an end, and you headed back to the TARDIS to wait for the others. You walked around the console as the Doctor checked over her time machine to make sure everything was in working order before take off once again, and after a moment you sat down on the floor. “Thank you Doctor.” You spoke up, her eyes looking up at you. “For spending today with me. Really.” You told her, and she smiled softy. 
“I would have done it before if I’d known you’d be alone.” She assured you, and you smiled back, just happy that you had this arrangement now. “Hope you don’t mind me asking- but why don’t your family talk to you?” She brought up. You looked up at her, frowning, before pulling your legs closer to yourself to hold for comfort. The doctor came, squatting down in front of you. 
“They… they don’t like that I’m gay, so they disowned me. They completely cut me out and refuse to talk to me unless I ‘fix’ myself.” You explained, doing air quotes at the end with a sad chuckle. 
“Well, some kind of family they are.” You heard the doctor grumble sarcastically as she moved from squatting to sitting on the floor as well, her comment forcing you to crack a smile. 
“But it’s fine, because I have you now. And Yaz, Ryan and Graham… you’re my family now.” You assured her, and you saw her eyes widen a little for a moment, before you saw a rush of emotion behind her eyes, though it took a moment for yourself to realise what caused it. Family. The doctor hadn’t really heard herself being part of one in a long, long time. She hadn’t had one in a long, long time. Yet here she was, being a part of yours without realising it. 
“Well… if it means anything, I’ll never turn my back on you, because that’s what real family means.” She assured in return, it now being your turn to fight back tears, before she smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. “Tell you what- you can decide where our next adventure is, so where do you want to go?” 
Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 
*Not my gif
TAGS:   @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible 
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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years ago
Text
is it still you?
summary: getting left behind is never easy. being found is even harder.
word count:  6,127
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gif(s) by: @gabrielokun, @elenaglbert​
a/n: hello there, everyone! welcome to my first proper fic since the school year started! you might have seen this on that wip title game i did a little while back, and here it is! thank you to @penguinwithitsarseonfire​ for reminding me that this idea even existed and inspiring me to write it :0 hope you’re all doing well lovelies!
~ o ~
“Amy, I’ll be fine.”
Amy rested against the console, one delicate eyebrow raised as she watched you hover by the Doctor’s side. You were watching him tinker with something on the console, but you could still feel Amy boring holes into you. “Right, just in case we forget the last time you said you were gonna be fine - remind me again why you’re the one doing this?”
“Because I’ve done it a bunch of times!” You glanced up at Amy, then shrunk back at her piercing gaze. You were definitely being judged. You swallowed the urge to say “sorry, mom”. “Reconnaissance. Right, Doctor?”
“Right,” the Doctor replied, sounding slightly distracted. He was peering at what looked like an earbud through a magnifying glass. His coat lay abandoned, flung carelessly over one of the chairs in the console room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of large circular goggles rested over his face as he worked. He was cute, but you’d never say that to his face. “I’ve tracked the weapon to this planet, but they’re a hivemind - if they see me, they’ll raise an alarm. I need you to be my eyes and ears.”
“Aye aye, captain,” you said cheerfully, raising a hand to your forehead in a mock salute. “Racked up your fair share of enemies, huh?”
“Oh, you know me.” The Doctor poked at the earbud-thingie with a sparking device. “I’m like James Bond.”
“You wish you were like James Bond,” Amy piped up. 
“Oi!” The Doctor looked up, indignation written over his face even through the huge goggles. “I’d make a great spy.”
Amy grinned at you. Something dangerous glittered in her eyes. “You’d trip over those laser things and set off a bomb with those limbs of yours.” 
The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and buried his nose in the magnifying glass again. 
“Okay, maybe not James Bond,” you said. You let your hand rest on his shoulder, trying not to jostle him as he started connecting some very thin wires. “I think you’ve got the gadgets down, though. You’d be the Quartermaster.”
“The man in the chair,” the Doctor muttered. 
“Yeah, the man in the chair,” you repeated. Absentmindedly, you let your hand wander, travelling down his back slightly. The Doctor went still. “You’ve got a very important job.”
“...Yep.” The Doctor’s voice was strained. 
“Okay, enough, lovebirds,” Amy said. She raised a finger before the Doctor could protest against the “lovebirds” comment. “Is she gonna be gone long?”
“Hopefully not,” the Doctor answered. “Just long enough for me to find out where they’ve landed so I can shut off their queen. It shouldn’t be too far. Twenty minutes, tops. And - aha!”
The Doctor grinned widely at you, pushing the goggles off his face. “That should do it. Look -” He plucked the earbud from the console and beamed at it. “Your very own communicator. Brand new! You don’t even need your phone.” It gleamed silver as he turned it over in his hands. “It links up directly to the TARDIS so we can hear you twenty-four-seven. Or seventy-two seven here.”
“It’s beautiful,” you said, and if it was possible, the Doctor beamed brighter. You reached out to take it, but the Doctor moved forward before you could snatch it from his hand.
“Hang on, let me,” the Doctor said softly. He leaned down, brushing his hand against your hair, and you shuddered. Some kind of heavy silence fell over the two of you as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pushed the communicator in - it fit snugly, almost like it was made for you. Which it was. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “There we go.”
Amy met your gaze. Lovebirds, she mouthed.
Shut up, you mouthed back. 
The Doctor ran to the other side of the console, picking up the telephone and quickly punching in some numbers. There was the whining sound of feedback in your ear. He tapped the receiver, and the soft tap tap tap felt like someone tapping directly on your brain. “Can you hear this?”
“Loud and clear.” He tapped again, and you winced. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” the Doctor said. He raised the phone to his lips and spoke again, but quieter. The sound sent shivers down your spine, and you tried not to visibly tremble. “It doubles as a tracker, so I’ll know exactly where you are.”
“Useful,” you squeaked out. Amy waggled her eyebrows at you, and you didn’t have the strength to tell her to stop. “Anything else?”
“Nope!” the Doctor said, setting down the phone with a thunk. “Alright! I think you’re all set, mission control.”
You frowned. “I thought you were mission control.”
The Doctor opened his mouth, as if to say something, but caught himself. He settled on smiling instead, the corners of his lips turning up meekly. “My mistake. You’ve been mission control before, I just…”
“Yeah, when you lost the TARDIS with me in it,” you said, giving him the gentlest smile you could muster. “Remember that? Good times.”
The Doctor hummed in reply. He shifted in place, staring at you, his hands hanging limply by his sides. In the dim, yellowish light of the TARDIS interior, you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. He stood there for a moment, his lips slightly parted, seemingly lost in thought.
“Hey,” you ventured. The Doctor jumped at the sound of your voice, his gaze darting up to meet yours. “You okay?”
“Always,” he said quickly. “I’m just seeing you off. That’s what I’m doing.”
He was not, in fact, just seeing you off. This was typical Doctor behavior - he was dodging the question. It was almost frustrating, but the way he looked like he was pouting took the edge off the frustration a little bit. But only a little bit. “Are you worried?”
“Me?” The Doctor pulled a confident face, the one he put on when he wasn’t. “Never.”
If you weren’t looking at the Doctor, really looking at him, you would have believed him. But then there was rule one - after some time, the Doctor had turned into an open book for you. The way he stood, very still when he was usually bouncing off the walls, told a different story.
You met his eyes, and something shifted. His face morphed, from confident to bittersweet, to an expression that looked almost mournful. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Oh, bugger it,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. 
“Doctor - oh!”
He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, pulling you flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed. He dipped his head down onto your shoulders, his face disappearing into your neck. Amy whistled, but you didn’t hear her - you were too busy focusing on feeling the Doctor’s lips on your skin, and his breath, warm against it, and - well -
“I wasn’t expecting that,” you gasped out.
The Doctor didn’t reply - just squeezed tighter. This face was most definitely a hugger, but they were mostly short and sweet. Little celebratory hugs. These hugs were reserved for certain moments, and certain people. 
“I’m the man in the chair, of course I’m worried,” he finally muttered. “It’s sort of my job.”
“You’ll keep me safe,” you said. You leaned back, and the Doctor lifted his head to look at you. “Mission control, remember? You’ll be there to guide me.”
The Doctor peered at you. “You trust me,” he said quietly, like he couldn’t believe it.
“After all this time, how could I not?” You gave him another soft smile. “You’re trusting me to do this, I’m trusting you to keep me safe.”
“Just -” The Doctor sighed, ragged, and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, they were filled with a familiar concern. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you too.”
The last part was nearly a whisper. The sound of his voice tugged at your heart. 
“You won’t,” you said, pulling away from his embrace. Disappointment flickered in the Doctor’s eyes as you stepped backwards towards the doors. “Ever.”
“Okay,” the Doctor said. He looked you over, his expression turning serious. “Ready?”
You nodded. “On your signal, captain.”
A grin slowly spread across the Doctor’s face, childlike. “Captain. I like the sound of that.”
Amy ran up to you, pulling you into another quick hug. She looked just as concerned as the Doctor when she pulled away, holding your face protectively. “Seriously, be safe, alright? I don’t want to be stuck with him without you.”
“Noted,” you replied, and Amy brightened.
“My company isn’t that bad, is it?” the Doctor asked. 
“It’s unbearable,” you joked, and the Doctor pouted. Amy laughed, you laughed, and eventually the Doctor joined in too, chuckling quietly under his breath.
The TARDIS doors swung open slowly, and a gust of cold air burst through them. You walked backwards, waving your fingers at the two in a two-fingered salute, and creeped quietly through the doors.
The first thing that startled you was the smell. The familiar smell of wet grass. A light drizzle fell on your skin, and you looked up. The sky was dark and full of stars - in the distance, you could see the faint lights of flickering street lamps and lit up windows. You could hear the faint sounds of people chattering and cars passing through the night. All of these things were things you knew -
“Doctor, we’re not in the right place,” you said, tapping your earpiece. 
A feedback whine, then the Doctor’s voice, loud and clear as if he was beside you. “What? No, the coordinates were right, I checked -”
“Check again.” Something felt off. You took a hesitant step backward, your back resting against the TARDIS doors. “This is Earth.”
“No, it can’t be,” the Doctor said, incredulous.
“I can see houses in the distance,” you said, “human houses. Unless this is a really convincing simulation, I’m really sure we’ve just landed back on my home planet.”
“Why’d you send us here, old girl?” he asked quietly, probably to the TARDIS. You could faintly hear the TARDIS hum and beep in reply. Then, sharply: “What?” 
"Doctor?” you asked. You tried to keep the fear from creeping into your voice.
“Come back inside, quickly,” the Doctor snapped. 
The urgency in his voice scared the hell out of you, and you straightened, whirling around to face the doors. The handles rattled, but the doors didn’t budge. “I can’t,” you gasped. 
“They’re not locked.” The Doctor’s voice sounded strange through the earpiece. It was getting fuzzier, the ends of his sentences tapering off into silence. “I’ve unlocked them, you should be able to get inside -”
You moved to try again… and your hand passed right through the door handle. You stumbled forward, shocked, and stared at your hand like it was the one that had turned transparent. Then the air started shimmering, and you heard the beautiful wheezing and singing of the TARDIS’s engines -
It was leaving you behind.
“No, no -” Your voice was like molasses in your mouth. You pressed yourself against the doors. They were still solid, still there. The door handles were impossible to grab now, just a faint image in the air, and a sob crawled up your throat. “Doctor, don’t leave!”
A yell ripped through the earpiece, and you winced - the Doctor only ever raised his voice when he was furious. You curled your fists and pressed them against the doors. 
“This can’t be happening, this -” Another strangled noise. It sounded like a sob, and your eyes blurred with tears. “Stay put,” the Doctor said, his voice trembling with emotion. 
If you imagined hard enough you could feel him on the other side of the door. “Okay,” you replied shakily, and sniffed. 
“I’ll come find you.” The Doctor sounded like a broken man. Your name falling from his lips sounded like a promise. “I -”
His voice cut off, and the TARDIS was gone.
You pitched forward and didn’t even bother to put up a fight - your knees buckled underneath you, and you fell onto your knees in the wet grass. Sharp rocks dug into your skin. You could barely feel their jagged edges. You looked up at the night sky as the drizzle slowly eased into a rainstorm, and suddenly your home planet had never felt so alien before. 
“Doctor?” you whimpered, your voice impossibly small. It was foolish, thinking the Doctor could hear you, but you didn’t care - “Doctor, can you hear me?”
Nothing. You were soaked now, raindrops running down your face and blurring with your tears. Biting back another sob, you tried again. “Please - come back, okay?”
The silence was deafening. 
You didn’t know how long you had spent in the rain. Long enough for the lights in the windows to shut off, one by one; long enough for chattering and the sounds of passing cars to quiet down; long enough for the rain to fall even harder than before. Long enough for you to stop shivering from the cold, and long enough -
Long enough for something to block the onslaught of the rain. Blearily, you looked up at the face of a young woman in a police uniform, holding an umbrella over the both of you.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” she asked softly. The tone of her voice was enough to make you start bawling again, as if you hadn't spent the last hour just crying your eyes out. “You shouldn’t be out here in the rain.”
“I know, I just -” How could you explain this to her? “I’m lost,” was what you settled on. 
The woman’s face brightened in a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, I'm here to help."
You nodded, bringing yourself to your feet. The policewoman held out her hand for support, and you wrapped your hands around her arm. You didn’t trust your legs to keep you upright right now. “Sorry, weird question, but - where am I?”
She probably thought you were drunk. That was a better alternative than the truth. “Sheffield,” the policewoman replied.
You hoped she was ready for an even weirder question - “What year is it?”
 A year passed. Settling in was easy enough - thankfully, you had your wallet and phone on you when you arrived back on Earth. All it took was a quick call back home, some trips back and forth to move your things, some paperwork, and you were officially a Sheffield citizen. 
You kept the earpiece. Found a way to wear it around your neck like some kind of ornament. It looked pretty enough, but it was hard to move on when you had a reminder of him resting like a weight on your heart everyday. 
You had tried talking into it on some days, on rainy days that reminded you of the day you were left behind. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough, you could hear faint conversation, sometimes laughter.
Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d found another companion. Maybe he had gone off to find that Clara girl. It was none of your business now, and yet -
You could’ve gone back to your actual home. But it was so hard to leave - it was hard to leave when the Doctor’s last words had been stay put. Your rational brain tried to convince you that he could find you wherever you were, but there was just something that was keeping you from leaving. 
Yasmin Khan was the policewoman’s name, and she was your very first friend in Sheffield. She’d been the one to help you adjust, and had been the one to help you find a job - as a receptionist in a hospital. 
It was a little funny, working with doctors when none of them were him.
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. You turned to look out your window - there was no rain, and yet the rumbling sound of thunder echoed across the land. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers against the earpiece. It was worn now, from all the constant sentimental holding. 
Your phone chimed. A weather forecast - scattered thunderstorms, it read. And your lock screen - a still image of you and the Doctor that Amy had taken, once upon a time. You were on your tippy toes, adjusting the Doctor’s bow tie with an exaggerated focused look on your face, while the Doctor just stood there, flustered.
They say take a picture, it lasts longer. You still had pictures of all your travels. They felt like tourist pictures, posing in front of alien architecture and making silly faces at otherworldly flora and fauna. They lay buried under pictures of paperwork and cute kids that came into the office, but they were still there.
A year. It would be seconds to him, but an eternity for you - and you couldn’t live an eternity hanging on to just memories of him. Your finger hovered above the delete button.
Sorry, Doctor, you thought. The mere idea of just deleting pictures made you feel sad, then you sniffed indignantly. You had to move on some time, and if it could be now, then -
Knock knock knock!
“Who is it?” you called. There was shuffling behind the door, and a hushed argument. “Hello?”
“Hello!” That voice sounded familiar - it was Grace, Grace Sinclaire, who used to be a nurse and someone that you worked with and who was notoriously really nice - “It’s me! Could you open up, love?”
“Coming!” you called back. You ran a hand through your hair and rubbed your face, wondering why she would be at your door at this hour when she should have been heading home with Graham -
You swung the door open and very nearly dropped your phone.
It was Grace, alright - Grace and her grandson Ryan, who was carrying an unconscious woman in his arms.
“Grace, what the -” you floundered. “What’s going on?”
“We need your help,” she said, and gestured to the woman in Ryan’s arms. “Can we come in?”
You were gaping now, craning your neck to try and get a good look at this woman’s face. “You need to take her to A and E, not to my house! I can drive you there, if that’s what you need -”
“I said that too,” Grace said slowly, like she was bracing to drop a bomb on you. “But right before she fell, she said -”
“Said she didn’t trust anywhere that was just initials,” Ryan finished, glancing down at the woman and then back to Grace, who gave you a sympathetic look. “She said your name.”
You swallowed. How -
“No.” An incredulous smile spread across your face, and you shook your head. “No, you’re kidding.”
“It’s true,” Ryan said. 
“...I don’t know this woman,” you said nervously.
“She knows you,” Grace said, almost pleading. “Please, love.”
There was no reason for them to be lying - the shell shocked expression on Ryan’s face was enough to tell you that he was absolutely telling the truth, whether you liked it or not.
And something that the Doctor had taught you - never refuse a call for help - echoed in your brain.
“Put her on the sofa,” you said quickly. “I’ll go get blankets.”
A few minutes later, you had a stranger lying limply on your sofa. 
She didn’t even make a noise when she was laid down. You laid a floral blanket over her middle, and it settled over her clothes - clothes that were obviously too big for her. The sight rang a bell in the back of your mind, of a night where a man climbed out of his broken ship in a past life’s clothes, clumsy and new -
There was a pull to her that you couldn’t resist. You sat down near her, gently taking her head in your hands and guiding it onto your lap like it was second nature to you. Her skin was warm, almost flushed, blonde hair falling over a surprisingly beautiful face.
Grace crouched down near the woman. “Do you know her?”
You stared at the woman’s face. Your answer would have been no, but now you weren’t so sure. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her even if you tried - and you were trying. Very hard.
Your hands found their way into her hair, and soon you were running your fingers through it like it was the most natural thing to do. “I don’t know.”
“You look like you do,” Grace’s voice was soft. “You look at her like you’ve known her all your life.”
Your head shot up, and Grace just shrugged. She had a small smile on her lips as she reached for the woman’s arm.
“How do you know that?” 
“I can tell,” Grace said simply. “That’s how Graham looks at me, sometimes.”
There was a beat of silence as she took the woman’s pulse, then she gasped - “Ryan - look.”
The woman’s skin was glowing gold. 
“Whoah,” Ryan said. The woman’s eyebrows were pinched together, a small crease forming between the two of them. Gold patterns swirled under her skin, pulsing like starlight, and you jerked your hands away from her like she would burn you. 
Grace looked up at you, her eyes wide. “She’s got two separate pulses.”
The woman’s arm fell limply at her side as she exhaled - golden dust fell from her lips, floating around like a miniature star in the room. You followed it with your eyes, your mouth hanging open for what must have been the third time that hour.
“Oh my God, what is that?” Ryan asked, moving out of the way.
Grace stared. “I have no idea.”
But you had an idea. You knew. Only one person did that. Only one alien did that. If this was who you thought she was, then -
Suddenly, the woman shot up, sitting bolt upright, breaking you out of your racing thoughts - she clutched her collarbone, gasping, eyes wild and searching. “Who woke me up? I’m not ready - still healing, still -”
Still healing. Your mind was still reeling, still trying to pick up the pieces - her voice was so painfully familiar, and now you knew why. You reached out, placing your hands on your shoulders to soothe her. She startled under your touch.
“You’re alright, you’re fine,” you soothed. A part of you was saying that to yourself. “You’re safe, yeah? Look at me.”
The woman whirled to face you, and you shrunk back. Her eyes were striking, green flecked with yellow and brown. It looked like a galaxy.
“Safe - you…” The woman breathed, staring into your eyes. She stared for what seemed like forever, her gaze locked onto yours, searching your face for something. Then something shifted - her eyebrows quirked up, then pulled down, her face morphing from shocked to confused to mournful. 
“Oh,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m too late, am I?”
Too late for what? you wanted to ask, but the woman had shot up again, crouching like a bird on the sofa.
"Can you smell that?” she asked, then stopped, one hand coming to press against her collarbone. “No, not smell. Not hear. Feel. Can you feel…” She trailed off, her expression serious. “Stay still, Ryan.”
“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. The woman leapt forward to pull down Ryan’s shirt slightly. She exhaled, a worried noise, and spun to face the others.
“Show me your collarbones,” she said, a touch of authority in her voice. Everyone else in the room pulled down their shirts slightly, and you gasped. Small glowing dots, pulsing with a magenta light. You’d only ever heard of those kinds of devices, whispered in the dark alleyways of alien cities, hidden under layers of conspiracy.
“Oh, you’ve all got them,” the woman breathed out, eyes wide.
“So have you,” Ryan pointed out, and the woman looked down. Another blinking light on her collarbone. She made a face.
“Yeah, I have. Okay.” The woman inhaled sharply, straightening her posture, preparing to give bad news. You knew that posture. “Really sorry. Not good news. DNA bombs.”
You rose slowly from your chair. “What?”
The woman cocked her head towards you as she walked in a circle around everyone else, her hands behind her back. “Microimplants which code to your DNA. On detonation, they disrupt the foundation of your genetic code, melting your DNA.”
“But -” you spoke, and everyone’s eyes were on you. “But those are illegal in almost every galaxy, right?”
An unspoken how did you know that hung in the air, but the woman just nodded, her lips pressed together grimly. She reached out to press against Ryan’s glowing dot. “Right.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “How did we get them?” 
“Nevermind that, are they gonna go off?” Graham asked. 
The woman grimaced. “Quiet. I’m trying to think, it’s difficult -” Her expression changed, her eyes big and searching and so very new. “Brain and body still rebooting, reformatting… oh, reformatting! Can I borrow that?”
“Yeah, I guess so, but what for?”
The woman had reached over and grabbed Ryan’s phone. She was tinkering with it, her brows knit as she focused. “That creature. On the train. When you two came onboard, it zapped us all with these. Simple plan to take out witnesses. Very clever.”
“Merciless,” you piped up.
“But clever,” the woman continued. The phone beeped a few times, and the woman gasped, then held it up proudly. “I reformatted your phone!”
“No! All my stuff’s on there,” Ryan groaned, but the woman just grinned. 
“Not anymore!” She said cheerfully. 
She held the phone to her collarbone - there was a loud zap, then she was knocked back against the wall like she had been thrown. She looked up at everyone, gasping. 
“That nap did me the world of good. Very comfy sofa,” she said, breathless. She glanced down at the phone, gasped again, and then scrambled to her feet. She yanked her coat from one of your chairs, and headed for the door - “Come on, keep up!” 
Everyone stopped to stare at each other, then quickly turned to follow. You took a few steps forward, the woman still drawing you towards her - “Wait, let me come with you -”
The woman turned to face you, already halfway out of your door. She shook her head. “No.”
You frowned. “No?”
She stared for another moment, and you saw it - the familiar gleam of concern, of protectiveness that you had seen at least a billion times in another face. The way her mouth dragged downward and her eyebrows knitted together, an expression somewhere between angry and worried. Your breath caught in your throat, your outstretched hand frozen in place. 
“I’m not putting you in danger again,” the woman said, determined. “I don’t know why. Think I’ll find out later. But you -” Her gaze burned you, with eyes that seemed so old and so new at the same time. “You have to be safe,” she continued. “Please. Stay put.”
It sounded like a promise. The woman glanced down at your hand while you lowered it, drawing it close to your chest.
“Okay,” you said. “Go. I won’t keep you.”
The woman nodded. “Thank you.”
And then she was gone, driving off into the night with everyone else. 
You didn’t rest easy that night. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky without any rain. You jumped every time the sky lit up - too on edge to be calm at all, too confused to try and get some rest - your hand thumbing the silver earpiece that still hung around your neck, strangely warm to the touch.
“This can’t be happening, this - stay put -”
“Please. Stay put.”
“Doctor,” you whispered. 
 Grace’s funeral was a few days after that.
At first glance, it didn’t seem like a funeral. The place was covered in balloons. There wasn’t a hint of melancholy in the air - the sun was shining bright through the windows of the church, not a single cloud in sight. No sign of the lightning from the days before. It was almost like the world had moved on.
You decided not to sit in the front. Tried not to think about the Grace that had brought the Doctor to your doorstep. Tried not to think about you had never thanked her for bringing her back to you. Instead you thought about happy, knowing Grace, and hoped that she could hear you, wherever she was now.
You found Ryan standing near the doors of the church. He was waiting - your heart clenched at the sight. Steeling yourself, you moved to comfort him -
And you stopped in your tracks. The Doctor walked up to him slowly, her hands in her pockets. Ryan glanced at her in acknowledgement. 
“What time did your dad say he’d get here?” the Doctor asked softly. 
Ryan kept on looking out, searching. “Two hours ago.”
“If he said he’ll come -” That was the Doctor, always trying to comfort -
“He says a lot of things,” Ryan said, gruffly. “He’s never been the best at being reliable. I mean how can he not be here? She’s his mum. She would have wanted him here.”
The Doctor nodded, pursing her lips. She kept that empathetic look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, not knowing what to say. That was another familiar thing that hurt. She still was so kind, still out to help others in need.
“I want him here,” Ryan finished. 
That was you, once upon a time. But things had changed, and you weren’t the one that left.
The Doctor’s gaze flickered to where you were, standing just a few feet away. Your eyes met for a second, and something passed over the Doctor’s face. Recognition. Her mouth opened like she wanted to call out for you, her mouth forming over the syllables of your name - 
You turned on your heel and walked away before she could see the tears forming in your eyes.
The door shuddered in its frame as you slammed it behind you. Stupid, getting emotional over her when you were supposed to be moving on like she had - your hands clamped onto the earpiece, gripping onto the small device like it was a lifeline. You hadn’t noticed that you were shaking, or that you had fallen on your knees onto the floor. You took in quick, shallow breaths, blinking the tears away like your life depended on it.
The earpiece was cold in your palms. You tried to let the feeling ground you, but even just remembering what it was made you nearly tip over the edge -
Knock knock knock.
“Yes?” Your voice was rough, and you coughed. “So - sorry, who is it?”
There were some hushed voices. 
“Isn’t it so weird how they know each other?”
“Not the strangest thing anymore, after what’s happened.”
“Hush, both of you.”
Then - a soft call of your name, warm and everything you’d ever needed. 
“It’s me," the Doctor said. “Could you open the door?”
You stilled, not trusting your ears. This wasn’t the triumphant reunion that you had wanted for the past year. That fantasy had faded over time. And yet there was a spark of hope in your chest, threatening to set everything alight.
The Doctor spoke again, her voice impossibly gentle and impossibly the same. “Listen -” Her voice cracked, and you bit back a sob - “I know it’s been some time, but I am so so sorry -”
That was it. You rose to your feet, red eyes and runny nose be damned, and flung the door open.
“No,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “No, don’t start.”
The Doctor’s beautiful new eyes widened a fraction. 
“Hello to you too,” she said quietly. She wasn’t as tall as she used to be - in fact, she was much shorter, so you didn’t have to crane your neck as much to take a good look at her face. She was dressed differently too, finally out of her raggedy clothes and into a new outfit that you’d say was cute, but never to her face. 
You blinked up at her, sniffed, and crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t apologize.”
The Doctor frowned slightly. “I have to, I left you behind for - oh!”
You grabbed the Doctor by her new suspenders and pulled her against you so she was flush against your chest. You buried your face in the crook of her shoulder, throwing your arms around her neck. Someone - you weren’t sure who - maybe it was Ryan - whistled, but you didn’t hear him.
It took a moment for the Doctor to let her hands rest against your back. Maybe this face wasn’t much of a hugger. But she didn’t let go, and leaned in closer so her chin rested on your shoulder.
“Let me say sorry,” she whispered. “I promised I would keep you safe, promised I’d come back for you. You trusted me, and I let you down.”
“I didn’t think you were gonna come back,” you mumbled. You shifted, letting your cheek rest against her skin. “I thought you’d left me forever and I thought - I thought -”
“Hey,” the Doctor soothed, pulling away. She brought one hand up to rest on your cheek, her thumb delicately brushing tears away, and you sniffed again. You probably looked ridiculous. “I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long.”
You nodded. “Is it still you?”
The Doctor grinned, and the way it lit up the world around her made your heart do flips. “‘Course it’s still me.” She looked down at the earpiece resting against your chest and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You kept the communicator.”
“I - I couldn’t throw it away,” you stammered, shrugging, “sentimental value. Or I just missed you. Maybe both.”
“Oh, you,” the Doctor said, her eyes glimmering. “You won’t need it anymore.”
Your hands shot up to grab it. You raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, whose grin was just growing wider and wider. You couldn’t help it - you let a smile slip onto your face. “Why is that?”
“Because I want you to come with me. Again.” The Doctor leaned backwards on the balls of her feet, and tucked her hands firmly back into her pockets. 
You felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest - all the air was suddenly gone from your lungs. Every last bit of eloquence that you’d had disappeared in an instant, and all you could manage was, “Uh.”
The Doctor smiled, a kind of nervous, polite smile. “What do you say?”
You could - take her hand and fly away with her again, like nothing had ever happened. Your gaze moved to behind her, where Graham, Ryan, and Yaz stood. They had seen this face before you did, and maybe - just maybe - 
“I can’t. Besides,” you gestured to the three of them, “you don’t need me anymore.”
The Doctor turned to face the three of them, and when she turned back to face you there was an intensity in her eyes that you weren’t a stranger to. The Doctor’s brows furrowed, and you curled in on yourself - that was something the Doctor never liked, when people put themselves down - but you thought it was the truth. 
The Doctor shook her head.
“Yes, I do,” she said simply. She leaned forward to press her lips against your forehead. It still felt magical. “I always have. Always will.”
She peered down at you, looking you right in the eyes, and you tried to find any sign that she was lying. Any sign that this was some kind of trick, some kind of fluke. 
But there she was, her voice gentle and earnest, one hand outstretched to take you back.
You took her hand and her lips quirked up just slightly. That same spark of hope instantly blossomed into a fire, comforting like a hearth on a cold winter evening. 
She led you outside, let you cross the hidden gap between a normal life and a life with her, again. Ryan, Graham and Yaz smiled as you stepped through, your hands intertwined with the Doctor’s.
“No ship, but at least I’ve got you,” the Doctor said cheerfully. Your head shot up to meet her sheepish expression, and you breathed out a laugh.
“The TARDIS? Really? Again?”
“Yep,” she replied, popping the “p” sound. You sighed deeply, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. 
“Oh, you definitely know each other,” Yaz said, her eyes wide with amazement.
“Well? Just like old times,” the Doctor said. “Ready?”
“Aye-aye, captain,” you chirped, and the Doctor laughed.
And when all of you got spat out in the middle of space, in the split second between life and death, you met the Doctor’s gaze and grinned. Perhaps nothing had really changed at all. Perhaps this was just a new chapter.
Geronimo. 
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