#take me to doctors she decided she had to fix it herself

[theballadofharkness]

Make me a Mommy

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: Agatha is horrified and personally victimised when you go off the pill to switch medications and have to forego having sex unprotected… will you both be able to last weeks without it? Or will you decide to take a different course of action?

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: explicit smut, g!p Agatha, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, MDNI

A/N: so here is my first explicit smut fic… hope it’s okay my loves xo

You step through the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before making your way into the living room, where Agatha is curled up on the couch with a book in her lap. The fireplace is crackling softly, casting a warm glow across the room, and for a moment, you just admire her- your wife, your beautiful, gorgeous wife, looking utterly serene as she flips through the pages.

Then you clear your throat. “So… bad news,” you start, dropping your bag onto the armchair.

Agatha hums absently, not looking up. “Mhm?”

“The doctor wants me to switch birth control. Says it’ll fix my headaches,” you say, sitting down beside her. “Which means I have to be off it for a few weeks before starting the new one.”

Agatha freezes.

Her book lowers slowly, like you’ve just told her something catastrophic. Her brows furrow, lips parting slightly as she stares at you, her expression a mix of betrayal and horror.

“Wait,” she says, her voice flat. “So that means… no unprotected sex?”

You nod, biting back a smile at her reaction. “That’s what I just said, babe.”

Agatha closes her book with a thud, tossing it onto the coffee table like it’s personally offended her. “You’re telling me I can’t be inside my wife” she gestures at you, “raw” she gestures again, “for weeks?”

You snort, folding your arms. “That’s generally what ‘off birth control’ means, yes.”

Agatha gapes at you, like you’ve just announced Santa Claus isn’t real and you personally set fire to the North Pole.

“But-” she flounders, her hands moving wildly as if trying to grasp onto logic. “We’ve never not had unprotected sex.”

“We have,” you remind her, amused. “In the beginning. Before I went on the pill.”

“That was forever ago,” she grumbles, flopping back against the couch like the weight of this tragedy is simply too much to bear. “I’m a married woman, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, I know,” you tease, patting her thigh. “I was there for the wedding, remember?”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” she mutters, rubbing a hand down her face. Then, narrowing her eyes at you, “Did the doctor say we can’t have sex at all?”

“No, we just have to use protection,” you reply, tilting your head. “Why?”

Agatha grimaces, like the word itself is offensive to her. “Protection?” she echoes, appalled. “You want me to go back to using condoms? Like we’re teenagers sneaking around in the back of a car?”

“Well, yeah, Aggie,” you grin, enjoying this way too much. “Unless you wanna risk getting me pregnant, that’s kinda the only option.”

You had wanted to bring it up. The words sat heavy on your tongue, right there, waiting, ‘Have you ever thought about kids?’ for a while now. But you knew Agatha. You knew the way she guarded herself, the way certain subjects made her retreat behind sharp wit and dry humor. You knew the ghosts that haunted her, the quiet fears she never quite voiced. And this? This was something she might run from.

So you swallowed the words down as you tried to stop yourself from thinking of tiny hands reaching for hers. Laughter ringing through the house. Agatha, rolling her eyes at some ridiculous mess but still cleaning it up. Agatha, braiding soft little curls with the same careful precision she used to weave her spells. Agatha, with a child pressed to her chest, murmuring some ancient lullaby into their hair. A family. Your heart ached with how much you wanted it. One day. Maybe one day.

Agatha groans, dragging a hand through her hair. “Baby, you’re killing me,” she whines, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “No raw, no filling you up? Just some sad, latex-covered half-measure?”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “It’s not that bad,” you tease. “You’ll survive.”

“Debatable,” Agatha grumbles, pulling you into her lap with an exaggerated huff. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you how good I am with my mouth instead.”

You shiver at her tone, but before you can respond, she presses a slow, hot kiss to your throat, her hands already wandering.

~

You’re standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, when you feel her eyes on you.

“You know,” Agatha sighs dramatically from the kitchen table, “this house just feels so… empty now.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Empty?”

She nods solemnly, stirring her coffee like she’s mourning something. “Mhm. It’s like there’s a void. A great, gaping hole in my life.”

You snort, turning back to the stove. “Let me guess- the void is unprotected sex?”

“I’m so glad you understand my pain,” she deadpans. “It’s like you get me.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” she presses, her chair scraping back as she stalks toward you. “Am I really, sweetheart?”

You gasp when she wraps her arms around you from behind, pressing her face into your neck like a suffering widow. “I just love you so much,” she mumbles against your skin. “And now I have to endure this tragic separation between my wife and my-”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, wiggling in her grip. “You’re being very dramatic, baby.”

She nuzzles closer, squeezing you. “Just let me have this.”

You giggle, flipping the pancake. “My poor, suffering wife.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, still clinging to you like she’s drawing strength from your presence. “I appreciate your support in this difficult time.”

~

You’re in the supermarket, picking out some vegetables, when you realize Agatha has gone suspiciously quiet.

Turning your head, you find her a few steps away, staring at a very specific aisle.

The family planning section.

You watch as she glares at the boxes of condoms like they personally offended her, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Babe,” you call gently.

She sighs heavily, dragging a hand down her face. “I just never thought I’d be back here,” she mutters, sounding exhausted. “It’s like I’ve been… demoted.”

You choke on a laugh. “Demoted?!”

“Yeah,” she gestures vaguely. “I worked so hard to get promoted to no condoms, and now? It’s like I’m back at square one. Like all my effort meant nothing.”

You bite your lip, fighting a grin. “Well, it’s only temporary-”

“Temporary,” she mimics flatly, rolling her eyes. “Easy for you to say, sweetheart. You’re not the one being robbed of life’s greatest joy.”

You snort, grabbing a box off the shelf. “C’mon, let’s just get these and go-”

But before you can blink, she snatches it from your hands and throws it back onto the shelf like it burned her.

“No,” she says firmly. “We’re getting the thinnest ones. I refuse to be a peasant about this.”

You lose it, cackling as she grumbles to herself, flipping through boxes like she’s reading product reviews.

~

You’re curled up in bed, scrolling on your phone, when you hear the deepest, heaviest sigh known to man.

You glance over.

Agatha is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling like she’s contemplating the meaning of life, her arm draped dramatically over her forehead.

You wait.

Another sigh.

You set your phone down, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You okay over there, babe?”

“No,” she huffs, turning her head to look at you. “I’m suffering.”

“Oh no,” you coo, biting back a grin. “What’s wrong, my love?”

She squints, like you should already know. “I can’t fuck you raw,” she states. “That’s what’s wrong.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Baby, it’s not that serious-”

“Not that serious?” she gasps, clutching her chest. “Sweetheart, this is a crisis. We were so happy. We were thriving. And now-” She gestures vaguely at the air. “Now we’re living in hell.”

You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my god, Agatha-”

“No, really,” she continues, scooting closer, resting her head on your stomach. “I miss my wife. I miss being inside my wife. I miss-”

“Okay,” you gently cover her mouth with your hand. “You’re so down bad.”

She makes an indignant noise against your palm before licking it playfully, making you squeal.

“Just saying,” she mumbles as she nuzzles your skin. “It’s been three days. I might die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you giggle, running your fingers through her hair. “You’ll be fine.”

She huffs dramatically, hugging your waist. “I better get a reward for all this suffering.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ll see.”

She groans, rolling onto her back again, dramatically flinging an arm over her face. Yeah. This is going to be a long few weeks.

~

It starts with a kiss.

Not the usual playful, teasing ones-no, this is desperate. Needy. You’re in bed, in Agatha’s lap, her hands firm on your waist as she devours your mouth like she’s been starving for you. And maybe she has. Because you started this. You’d meant for it to be just some lazy making out, something soft, something sweet. But then she groaned against your lips, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck- you were gone.

“Baby,” she murmurs, voice wrecked, breathing uneven. “You keep squirming like that, and I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” you whisper, rolling your hips against her again. “C’mon, Aggie. Want you.”

She grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut like she’s holding herself back. “Sweetheart,” she warns. “We can’t-”

“Fuck it,” you breathe, grabbing her face, kissing her hard. “Fuck it, Agatha. Please.”

She groans, hands trembling as they move under your shirt, pushing the fabric up, feeling you.

“Baby, we have to use protection,” she forces out, like she’s fighting for her life.

You shake your head fiercely, chest heaving. “No. No, I don’t want that. I want you. I want it raw. Please, Agatha, I-”

You’re going to kill her.

Agatha is trying- really trying- to be good, to be patient, to respect the fact that you’re still waiting, that you can’t let her have you the way she needs to just yet. But then you’re in her lap, all soft and warm, all giggles and needy little whimpers, pressing those sweet, sloppy kisses against her neck, shifting in her arms, looking up at her with those big, desperate eyes, and fuck she’s already breaking.

Her whole body jerks at your words, her breath shuddering as she grips your thighs, trying-failing-to stay in control. “You’re playing dangerous games, sweetheart,” she rasps. “You know I want that too-”

“C’mon, Aggie,” you whisper, breathless and sweet, rolling your hips against her, making her groan, making her ache. “Just a little. Just the tip, baby. Please.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she groans, kissing you feverishly, hands everywhere, touching, claiming. “You really want this, sweetheart? You’re sure?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, arching into her touch. “Yes, yes, I- fuck, please, Aggie, I need it, I need you-”

And fuck, she wants to say no.

She wants to be good, to be careful, to be patient-

But then you grind against her, soft and sweet, and fuck, she snaps.

“Shit,” she grits, her hands shaking as she grips your hips, guiding you down, just enough to let you feel her, just enough to feel that tight, wet heat wrapped around the very tip-

And then you whimper.

Then your walls flutter around her.

Then you clench, just a little, just enough to make her see stars-

And it’s over. The last of her self-restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

“Oh, fuck-” she groans, her head falling back against the pillows, her control snapping as she grips your hips, dragging you down onto her cock, filling you up in one deep, desperate stroke.

And shit, you gasp, eyes going wide, fingers gripping at her shoulders. And Agatha just groans, burying her face in your neck, pressing a shaky kiss to your skin, trembling beneath you as she thrusts up. “I’m sorry, baby,” she rasps, voice thick with lust, with hunger, with need. “I can’t-fuck, I can’t stop now.”

Agatha is gone. She’s supposed to be careful. Supposed to be taking her time, waiting until you’re back on the pill. But you’re so warm around her, so tight, so perfect, and fuck, you whimpered when she filled you up, clenching down like you were made for her, and now? Now she can’t stop.

“Fuck,” she groans, her grip tight on your hips as she grinds you down onto her cock, dragging you over her slow and deep, like she’s trying to ruin you, like she needs you to feel every inch of her.

And you’re gasping, nails digging into her shoulders, lips parted, eyes glassy as you whimper, “Aggie-oh, my god-”

And that breaks her.

“Oh, you like that, pretty girl?” she rasps, voice thick, hungry, her teeth grazing your throat as she rocks her hips up, slow and deep, dragging against that sweet little spot inside you, making you whimper, making you shake.

“I-” You can’t even speak, just a broken little gasp, your body trembling as she fucks you, slow and deliberate, like she’s claiming you.

And fuck, she is. She grips your hips, dragging you down onto her cock, her mouth at your ear, her voice wrecked as she murmurs, “Thought you just wanted the tip, sweetheart.”

You writhe in her arms, whimpering as you shake your head, your fingers fisting in her hair. “Didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah?” she hums, her voice a tease, even as her hands are shaking, even as she’s trying so hard to hold herself together. “Didn’t mean to take my whole cock, baby?”

You squirm, burying your face in her shoulder, your whole body trembling against her. But Agatha smirks, her grip tightening, her hips rolling up in one, slow, deep thrust, filling you up so good, so perfect, making you cry out, making you tremble.

And then she grins, pressing a kiss to your temple, whispering, “Guess I’ll just have to keep fucking you until you mean it.”

Your voice is shaky, gasping against her lips as you clutch at her shoulders. “Shit, okay-okay, just-” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath hitching as she drags you down onto her cock, slow and deep. “Just don’t- don’t cum inside, okay?”

Agatha groans, her fingers digging into your hips as she grits her teeth, her restraint hanging by a thread.“Oh, sweetheart,” she rasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her hands trembling as she holds you there, buried to the hilt.

But you’re squirming, grinding yourself down onto her, chasing that perfect friction, your voice all soft and breathless as you whimper, “It’s fine, it’ll be fine, just- just don’t stop.”

And fuck, she almost loses it. Because you’re so tight, so wet, squeezing down around her cock like you’re made for it, your body shuddering as you bury your face in her neck, whimpering her name, your fingers digging into her arms- and you’re telling her not to stop? Yeah, she wasn’t planning on it. She snaps her hips up, grinding deep, her breath coming out in a harsh groan as she fists a hand in your hair, tilting your face up so she can kiss you, swallowing your broken little moan.

“Yeah?” she grits out, her cock dragging against that sweet spongey spot inside you, making your whole body tremble. “You sure about that, baby?”

And you nod, your breath all hot and desperate against her lips as you gasp, “I-I can’t- Aggie, don’t stop, please-”

She flips you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as she rolls her hips, deep and slow, her voice a wrecked little murmur against your throat.

“Don’t stop,” she mimics, her grin dangerous as she grinds into you, making you gasp, making you tremble. “Gonna be a good girl for me, then?”

You nod, your whole body shuddering as you cling to her, whispering, “Yes-yes, I promise-”

But Agatha just grins, pressing a kiss to your temple as she whispers, “Good girl. Now let’s see if you mean it.”

Her voice is low, gravelly, the sound sinking straight to your core as she rolls her hips, slow and deep, dragging her cock against that achingly sensitive spot inside you. You’re trembling, your thighs tight around her waist as you whimper, your fingers digging into her back, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your temple, her breath hot against your skin. “All fucked out already, baby?”

And shit, you are. Your body is shaking, your head tipping back as you gasp, your hips rocking against hers, chasing more, deeper, anything.

And Agatha just grins, her fingers tight on your hips as she pins you down, holding you still as she drags herself out of you- slow, torturous- until only the tip is left inside. Then, she snaps her hips forward, burying herself to the hilt, her cock grinding against that perfect, little spot inside you. Your back arches, a wrecked little moan breaking from your lips as you cling to her, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she grits out, her voice wrecked as she grinds deep, her hands shaking as she grips your thighs, spreading you wider, letting herself sink into you even more. “So fucking perfect for me.”

And you whimper, your head spinning, your body burning hot with want as you nod, breathless and needy, whispering, “Yes-yes, I-I am-”

And Agatha just groans, pressing her forehead against yours as she grinds her hips, slow and deep, drawing out every little whimper, every tremble of your body.

“Don’t stop, Aggie-please.” you whisper, voice all shaky and sweet

And fuck, she wasn’t planning on it. Her pace stutters, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as your body tightens around her, pulling her deeper, tighter, until she can barely hold herself together.

“Fuck-” she grits out, her fingers digging into your thighs as she grinds into you, deep and slow, dragging out every little shudder and whimper that spills from your lips.

You’re right there, your body trembling, your nails scraping down her back as you cling to her, your breath ragged as you gasp, “Aggie-I-oh, fuck- please let me cum- please- ah!”

She groaned at your begging, her restraint barely hanging by a thread. “Since you asked so sweetly, darling,” she murmured, her voice like velvet, before she filled you again with slow, deliberate strokes that left you gasping, toes curling, body melting beneath her.

Agatha let out a low, satisfied hum, leaning down to press a kiss against your parted lips as she stilled, letting you adjust.

“There you go,” she whispered against your mouth, her smirk returning as she rolled her hips just enough to make you moan. “Now- hold it for me.”

“I- I can’t,” you whimpered, nails digging into her shoulders as your body trembled beneath her. The stretch, the fullness of her, the way she was holding you right at the edge without letting you tip over- it was too much, too overwhelming.

Agatha tsked softly, her lips curving into a knowing smirk as she rolled her hips, slow and deep, making you sob at the sensation. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, dragging her fingers along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. “Yes, you can.”

You shook your head, gasping as she ground into you, pressing deeper, teasing that spot inside you that made your whole body shudder. Your thighs clenched around her waist, desperate for more friction, more everything.

“I- please, I can’t hold it,” you moaned, your voice a broken, pleading thing.

Agatha chuckled, dark and full of promise. “Yes, you can,” she murmured, lips brushing against your ear as she slowed her movements just enough to keep you dangling, just enough to keep you teetering on the brink without relief. “And you will.”

You let out a desperate cry, clinging to her as if she were the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

“Be a good girl for me,” she coaxed, her voice dripping with sin, her hand slipping between your bodies to press slow, torturous circles over your clit. “Hold it.”

Your whole body tensed, fire licking up your spine, the pressure unbearable. Tears pricked your eyes, every muscle straining with the effort of obeying her command.

“That’s it,” Agatha cooed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, just as she gave a sharp, deep thrust that made you scream.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” she praised, nipping at your bottom lip as she kept you right there, teetering on the edge of bliss, refusing to let you fall just yet.

You sobbed her name, mind spinning, pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

“Just a little longer,” she purred, her smirk pressing against your skin. “Then I’ll let you come.”

“Please,” you choked out, voice raw and desperate, your fingers clawing at her back, her arms, anything to hold onto. “Agatha- please, please, please-”

She hummed, her lips dragging along your throat, her breath warm and teasing. “Such a needy little thing,” she murmured, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate grind, pressing deep until you saw stars.

You sobbed out a curse, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

Agatha smirked against your skin. “You’ve been so good for me, darling.” Her voice was honeyed, dark and dripping with approval. “I think you deserve it now.”

Your eyes flew open, barely able to process the words before…

“Come for me, sweet girl.”

The command shattered you.

The second she said it, she drove her hips forward with a slow, deep thrust, her fingers pressing just right against your clit, and you broke.

Your body arches, your head tipping back as a wrecked moan spills from your lips, your whole body shaking beneath her as your orgasm washes over you, hot and overwhelming, pulling her right over the edge with you.

“Shit,” Agatha groans, her hips jerking, her grip tight as she grinds into you, her body tensing as she lets out a deep, desperate moan.

You clenched around her, waves of bliss crashing over you. You pulled her closer to you, pressing your damp skin against her.

“Baby,” she grits out, her hips trembling as she tries to pull back, tries to do the right thing- but you’re clutching at her, your legs tightening around her waist, your body so soft and warm and perfect beneath her.

“Don’t pull out,” you beg, your voice breathless, eyes wide and glassy as you look up at her. “Please, Aggie, make me a mommy.”

Her head drops, a shudder racking through her whole body as a wrecked groan spills from her lips.

“Fuck,” she rasps, her resolve breaking as she grinds into you, so deep and slow, like she’s pressing the idea into you, sealing it into your very bones. “You want that?” she breathes, her hands tight on your hips, holding you in place as her nose brushes yours. “Want me to put a baby in you, sweet girl?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, your fingers tangling in her hair, your lips brushing hers as you whisper, “Please, Aggie, I want it so bad.”

That’s all she needed to hear. Her restraint snaps like a thread pulled too tight. A guttural sound rumbles in her chest as she buries herself in you, grinding deep, pressing her weight down like she could force the very thought of being filled, of being bred, into your mind, your body, your soul.

“Fuck, baby,” she rasps, her breath hot against your cheek. “Gonna fill you up so good, make sure it takes-”

You whimper, your hands gripping at her shoulders, your legs locked around her back. “Yes, yes, please-”

She grits her teeth, her rhythm turning slow, deliberate, dragging each thrust out like she wants you to feel it, to remember it. Her hands splay over your belly, her thumbs stroking over the soft skin like she’s already imagining the way it’ll swell beneath her touch.

“You’ll look so beautiful carrying my baby,” she murmurs, her voice low, reverent. “Gonna be such a good mama, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitches, your eyes going glassy, your body arching into hers. “Aggie-”

“I’ve got you, baby,” she soothes, pressing her forehead to yours, her hips rolling, her cock grinding against that spot that makes you cry out. “Taking me so well, fuck-”

Her movements turn shakier, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. “Shit, I’m gonna-baby, I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” you plead, clutching at her, dragging her down, kissing her with everything you have. “Please, Aggie, give it to me-”

And with a wrecked, desperate moan, she does.

As the last tremors roll through her, Agatha collapses onto you, careful not to let her full weight press you down, but still keeping you beneath her, caging you in. Her breath is hot against your neck, her lips skimming your pulse, and she shudders at the way your walls are still fluttering around her, so tight and warm, like your body still doesn’t want to let her go.

“My perfect girl,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, reverent. Her hands splay over your belly, stroking, like she’s already imagining you full of her, already claiming what she’s just given you. “So good for me, sweetheart. So fucking good.”

You whimper, your body still twitching, hypersensitive and overwhelmed. “Aggie-”

“Shhh, baby,” she soothes, pressing kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

She finally, slowly, pulls out, and you whimper again, your body clenching at the loss, feeling empty without her. But before you can protest, her fingers skim down your body, dipping between your legs, gathering the warm, sticky evidence of what she’s just done to you.

“Look at that, baby,” she purrs, her fingers trailing through the mess she’s made of you, playing in it, spreading it. “So full of me.”

Your breath hitches, your hips jerking when she teases at your aching clit, her touch featherlight, just enough to send a shockwave through your already wrecked body. “Aggie!”

She chuckles, low and wicked, watching the way you tremble, the way your body reacts to every tiny movement of her fingers. “Too sensitive, sweetheart? But you love it, don’t you?”

You shake your head, but you’re squealing, gasping, your thighs trying to clamp shut around her wrist- but she’s stronger, and she holds you open, torturing you with slow, lazy strokes.

“One more for me, baby,” she murmurs, her voice like silk, like she’s asking something so simple, so reasonable. “Just one more, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

“Aggie- I- I c-can’t-” you whimper, your thighs trembling, your body overwhelmed and aching, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, the way you plead only fuels her.

“Oh, but you can, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs, her fingers still teasing, dipping, spreading her claim inside you. “My good girl always gives me what I want.”

Your breath catches, your hands gripping at her, desperate, but she just shushes you, her lips brushing against yours, her body looming over you as she keeps you pinned, her fingers wickedly slow as they play between your shaking thighs.

“So messy, baby,” she murmurs, circling your puffy clit with the evidence of what she’s just done to you. “So perfect for me, letting me fill you up like this.”

You sob, the sensation too much, too intense, but you can’t stop the way your hips twitch, the way your body responds to her.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Agatha encourages, her voice low, dripping with satisfaction. “You wanna give me one more, don’t you? Wanna show me how much you love being full of me?”

“I-I-” you stammer, but she presses her thumb firmly against your aching clit, and you jerk, your back arching, your mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“There we go,” she coos, her other hand gripping your waist, holding you still as she works you through the aftershocks, her fingers spreading her warm release back inside you as she keeps stroking, keeps teasing, keeps pushing you toward the edge she knows you can’t resist.

“Aggie- I- I’m gonna-”

“That’s my girl,” she groans, her lips brushing your jaw as she feels your body tense, your walls fluttering around her fingers, your whole body shaking as she finally pushes you over again. “Let go for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you do. You break, shuddering, whimpering, your body pulsing in her hold as she watches, devours the way you come apart for her, your overstimulated body giving in completely.

“So fucking beautiful,” Agatha whispers, her fingers finally slowing, easing you through it, soothing you as you pant, your body spent and boneless beneath her.

She leans down, kissing your cheek, your forehead, murmuring soft praises against your damp skin as she finally pulls her fingers away.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” she soothes, her hands now gentle, comforting as she gathers you in her arms. “My perfect girl.”

Agatha holds you close, her body still shuddering slightly from the intensity of what just happened, but all her focus is on you now- her precious girl, her perfect love, shaking in her arms.

“You okay, baby?” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over your temple, her hands soothing over your damp skin, grounding you, centering you in the aftermath.

You nod, still breathless, your fingers weakly clinging to her forearm where it’s wrapped around you. “Mhm… just tingly.”

Agatha chuckles softly, kissing the side of your head before reaching for a nearby cloth, gently cleaning you up, her touch delicate, reverent. “Tingly, huh?” she teases, but there’s nothing but adoration in her voice. “I’d say that’s a good sign.”

You hum, letting your body melt against her, your eyes fluttering as she continues to wipe you down, soothing every overstimulated inch of you. The warmth of her body, the tenderness of her touch, it’s all so perfectly Agatha.

Once she’s finished, she pulls you into her embrace again, tugging the covers up over both of you. “C’mere, sweetheart,” she whispers, tucking you against her chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

For a while, you just lay there, safe in her arms, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat and sex and something undeniably intimate.

Then, in a voice so soft it’s barely a whisper, Agatha asks, “Did you mean it?”

You blink, lazily looking up at her. “Mean what?”

She tilts your chin slightly so you’re facing her, her thumb brushing over your lips. “About wanting to have my baby.”

Your cheeks warm, a mixture of shyness and something deeper settling in your chest. “I…” You swallow, nuzzling against her palm. “I did.”

Agatha inhales, her eyes searching yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “You really want that, sweetheart?” Her voice is hoarse, almost uncertain, like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing.

You nod, reaching up to cup her face, smoothing your thumb over her cheek. “I love you, Agatha. I want… everything with you.”

She sucks in a breath, her grip on you tightening like she’s afraid to let you go. “Fuck, baby,” she whispers, her forehead pressing against yours. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

You smile, a little sleepy, a little giddy, so in love with this woman it aches. “I think I do,” you tease, letting your fingers twist into her hair. “You got all shaky and sentimental on me, Aggie.”

She huffs, but there’s no bite to it, only warmth as she pulls you even closer. “Shut up, brat,” she murmurs, but then she’s kissing you, deep and slow, and you know-you know-that she’s thinking the same thing you are.

That this is it.

That you belong to each other.

And that maybe, just maybe, there’s a future waiting for you- a future where you’re hers in every way.

[serenmaxoff]

Hiii I was thinking about Agatha Harkness x reader where Agatha and Reader aren’t a thing yet and reader realize two things: that Agatha seems to get a lot of attention from other woman and that reader has a crush on Agatha. To avoid getting hurt, reader starts to distance herself from Agatha to rid herself of her crush but Agatha is not having it. Can I request it please?

People can be very smart about some things, and completely dumb about others. Doctor!Agatha Harkness x Intern!Reader

Tags: Fluff, wannabe medical information, two dumb lesbians, making out, probably a lot of malpractice and medical misinfo, power imbalance dynamic, "strangers" to friends, friends to lovers. || MEN DNI || English isn't my first language

“Please, please please. You need to ask Dr. Harkness to take you for the practice of tomorrow. I swear she’s going to kill me If I say the wrong thing again.” She makes a pause just to hold you by the shoulders and start shaking you softly. “Besides, she’s been trying to take you on many practices before, if you ask her I think she would even smile! Like a real smile, those where you actually see the person's teeth!”

You groan as you take your hands to your forehead and start making slow movements trying to relax. Kate had been following around telling you how difficult her life was since Dr. Harkness had become her new mentor after Dr. Barton decided to leave the hospital to spend more time with his family after his wife had his third child. 

“You do realize that mostly taking neuro cases paves the way for you to be a neuro, right?” You stop on the mid-walk just to turn and look at her, only showing her how unimpressed you were for the whole situation. “And for your information I’m quite happy taking my cardio cases with Dr. Stark and Dr. Hill.”

“Please just ask for tomorrow practice! I swear I’ll take the next one and accept my fate as her mentee. She’s just so difficult to please, like I could tell her why a posterior communicating artery aneurysm can cause double vision and she would still look at me as if I had said all the vowels wrong. And the worst thi-...” 

Maybe it's time to start believing in God? If he is as merciful as people say he is, he could make it stop, couldn't he? He might even give you an operation to participate in with Dr. Stark as compensation for listening to Kate from the hospital parking lot.

While your head is still trying to find a way to deal with Kate's monologue, your eyes fix on the figure that has just stopped at the end of the corridor. The power she excludes even when she’s just standing should be analize you think. 

Agatha Harkness was a very renowned neurosurgeon in her mid 30’s, after becoming the head of the neurosurgery department, a year later she won the ACP Clinical Innovation Award for creating a procedure that reduced operating room time and improved the recovery of patients with refractory epilepsy, and after that one prize, the others just followed.

She was very famous at a very early age, but that didn’t erase the fact that she was a very strict, reserved and indifferent woman. If it wasn’t related to medicine or neurology she was simply not interested.

Or at least that’s what you would normally say if you didn’t know her better.  

Especially after yesterday. 

“Thank you Ed, I hope she didn’t bother you too much” You say to the man behind the bar. 

“I thought interns only lived for the hospital alone?” He says with a sly smirk making you huff annoyingly. “She’s probably coming back in a few minutes, she wasn’t feeling well if you know what I mean.”

As you sat at the bar waiting for Agatha to return, you began to search in your backpack for the extra sweatshirt you always carried. After several accidents you had learned that it was better to carry a pair of leggings and an extra sweatshirt in your backpack for any situation.

A part of you was somewhere between acceptance and resignation of the closeness and relationship you had with Agatha, but another part of you still wondered how long this kind of relationship with her had developed.

The truth was that it was absurd to even ask yourself that question. You knew better than anyone the moment that had been decisive for the relationship the two of you now had.

It was a month after you graduated.

You remember that day better than anything because the final episode of ‘12 Monkeys’ was premiering. Hours earlier you had finished doing the housework so you didn't have the rest of the day off and had taken the opportunity after taking out the garbage to go to the supermarket and buy a pizza along with a bag of chips and a soda, you may have even bought a small container of ice cream, but if you hadn't noticed that, no one else had then.

It was then that minutes before the chapter started you heard how something had crashed against your door.

The truth is that the neighborhood where you had gotten the apartment wasn't that bad, but being that most of the students had already vacated their apartments and that out of the 8 apartments in the building only 3 were occupied, it made you a little more cautious than usual. More so knowing that your downstairs neighbor had gotten a security job that meant he wasn't around in the evenings and that your neighbor across the street was never around, or at least you had never crossed paths with them.

Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, you approached the door while inwardly cursing yourself because I didn't even have the chain to open the door safely.

After opening the door the first thing you did was scream as you felt the weight of something falling on your feet and legs.

You tried to move backwards, but one of your flip-flops got caught in what was on top of your feet and you ended up on the floor. It was only until you heard a familiar grunt that your body decided to stay completely still.

“Do you really need to scream that way? I swear to god if I wasn’t so fucking happy I would… Sparks?”

The moment those ocean eyes found yours you felt completely lost. You definitely knew this person. Hell! You had classes with this person and she for sure wasn't the one listening to the lectures. She was the fucking substitute tutor. What the fuck was this person doing in your apartment? How did she know where you lived? 

“Hey! Hey!” As soon as you came back to yourself, the first thing you noticed was the pungent and alcohol-scented breath coming out of her mouth. In front of you, the person was snapping her fingers in front of your face but the first thing your body did was relax and release the knife you had taken previously. “Did you hit your head? Why the fuck aren’t you answering?”

“What?” 

“‘What?’” She repeated with a mix of annoyance and mockery. “I said ‘Why. The. Fuck. aren’t you answering?’ Are you some kind of perv to enter someone else’s apartment in just underwear and a thin shirt? I thought you had a bright future after those questions you asked on the last seminar, but I guess every talent has their fucking weird quirks” 

You would have thought that the tone of apathy she was using to talk to you and the slow, paused manner was because she thought you were an idiot, but the way her corners rose in each pause and then returned to a neutral pose made you realize she was enjoying it. Maybe it was the way she talked to you but after looking around for a moment you cleared your throat and stared directly into her eyes, your voice charged with annoyance. 

“In any case wouldn’t you be the perv?” You tilted your head softly before lifting your hand and moving it around. “Maybe you should look at your surroundings before making false statements like that, you know?” Propping yourself up, you started walking towards the door. “I appreciate your very unwelcome visit Dr. Harkness, but if you could get out of my home I would appreciate it.” 

Dismissing your words she started to look around noticing how in fact, this wasn’t her apartment but yours. The way her head snapped back at you, made you nibble on your bottom lip, trying to contain your laugh from the way she started to wiggle the fingers of her right hand, and the way her cheeks started to take a more rosy tone.  

Tripping on her words, Agatha decided to just shut her mouth. 

“I swear this day can’t get any worse…” She muttered to herself. She looked at you again and taking a few steps she extended her hand. “I apologize for this situation. It is my responsibility for not controlling my alcohol consumption and for not taking in my surroundings more quickly.” 

“I didn’t know you lived here” You say more calmly this time, after all, receiving an apology from her, specifically, was as rare as a thief having honor… On second thought, probably you shouldn't compare her with a thief though. 

“It was only for the time I replaced Dr. Strange, but as you already know, that asshole decided just not to return until the next semester. And I actually like this place, or I liked it. Considering I didn’t have to see anyone from the hospital or campus.” Her jaw clenched and her eyes closed remembering the whole situation, and honestly you couldn’t blame her. Losing the person in charge of one of the most important years of your career just to adapt to another person that was almost the same as him but more strict and had the belief of “swim or die” wasn’t exactly the ideal scenario for anyone involved.”So you live here Sparks?” She says tilting her head as she lets her body weight rest at the door frame, looking at you intently but also trying to gain some sobriety by breathing slowly and profoundly. “I thought you were returning to your hometown after graduation?” The frown she wears shows how she’s trying to remember if maybe she misheard that time you were talking with your friends, but she can swear you said you were going back home, specially after the health of someone from your family was deteriorating. 

You are taken aback by her question, you try to remember if you ever slipped thant kind of information to her, specially on those sessions where she would try to help you find which specialization you wanted to follow after graduation, but even though you keep repeating all your conversations with her, your end up answering without thinking. 

“I-I wanted to stay here. I wanted to spend more time with my friends and…” Your voice started to lower with each word until it became only a whisper. You wanted to enter the same Hospital as them, but you hadn’t reached the point to choose which hospital you wanted to start your internship. You would need a letter of recommendation from a doctor working there, but that was already difficult considering they could only use one for only one student, your other option was just asking the universe to be benevolent enough to make the people in charge of distributing the students to send you there.

It’s not that you had bad grades or anything bad. But you knew this wasn’t the only university teaching medicine, and obviously there had to be better students than yourself, and many of them would kill for a spot in the SHIELD Road Hospital so your dream to actually keep seeing your friends would soon become nonexistent.

She noticed though. 

The way you started to play unconsciously with the tip of your fingers and how your shoulders started to tense up. You were talking to her looking directly at her eyes, but now your gaze looked everywhere except herself, and that bothered her. 

When you felt cold fingers holding your chin immediately your breath got caught on your chest. 

“I do like when people look at me when I’m having a conversation. You are not the exception, Sparks.”

“Why do you call me Sparks?” You say taking a step back from her, trying to create some distance out of respect. At the end of the day maybe she wasn’t anymore your tutor, but if the accepted at the hospital

“Who knows? You were really smart in all our sessions and all the seminars, also most of the doctors you got to work with said you were a brilliant student.” She shrugs her shoulders before walking towards the apartment in front of you. “I guess I’ll be seeing you a lot more at the hospital, isn’t it?” 

The meak sound that came out of your mouth was signal enough for Agatha to know that it was in fact that topic that turned your usual radiance out of the window, but how would she be able to pry  more when she didn’t have that kind of relationship with you? To be real she didn’t have any kind of relationship with you but maybe a Senior-Junior one, but that wouldn’t even open the door for her to ask more about your concerns. 

When you saw she started looking for something you decided it was time to close your door. 

You lifted up the knife you had previously taken, now a silly thought considering you didn’t even know any kind of personal defense, which you should probably at least try once just for protection. 

You were walking towards the sofa trying to finally start catching up with the episode and enjoy the finale, when a knock on your door made you roll your eyes. You took the bag of chips to the side and after moving the blanket out of the way you walked towards the door and after opening it you saw a sheepish Agatha trying to avoid your eyes. 

“It seems I lost my key, could I stay here for the night, please” 

The rest was history after that night, because the moment a soft ‘yeah, sure’ came out of your mouth it was like you had adopted a stray cat. A very mischievous, cocky and snarky cat though. She would start inviting herself to your apartment at night after her shifts at the hospital, and when you got you the email saying you were accepted to do your internship at the same hospital as your friends and her, she celebrated with you, taking you to a restaurant that had a lot of board games, that you really enjoyed playing. 

And after you started doing your practices at the hospital, she would come up to you and ask you to return with her in her car, saying you should help her to take advantage of the gasoline she was going to use to go back. Of course each time you decline, not wanting to start some weird rumors on hospital grounds, considering it seemed even the walls had eyes and ears, but by now you were even considering some doctors asking the hospital security for information, even doing trades with them for something juicy.

Once they changed you to be at the night shift, the problem started when you couldn’t even make a sandwich or just throw an apple in your backpack and go to the hospital. The first time she saw you running with just a banana on your hand, the way her lips formed a thin line should have been warning enough of what she was thinking about your breakfast choice, but you only told her you ran out of food so past-tomorrow you would go to the market to buy some. 

She was a patient person when she wanted to be, so she told herself she would wait. That day was Tuesday so she should wait for Thursday to see if you were only full of bullshit or you actually cared about your health. So the moment she opened your apartment and noticed you weren’t home yet, she checked the cabinets and the fridge only to find one beer that was already out of date and half a tomato. So with a thin smile, she decided she was going to kill you when you returned, but first she had to go to the market, because clearly you didn’t give a fuck about yourself and her, considering she was also living there.

Well, not living there, there, but you know, there. 

So when you returned home the fridge was as full as the cabinets, and when you took your phone to pay her for all the groceries, she only patted your head and threw herself on the couch, putting play on the TV, resuming her Harry Potter Marathon and hearing her call out all the inconsistencies about how the government or even the school rules were. And after remembering her it was just a kids movie, she would shoot you a deadly glare.  

But from that day on, she would bring you bags full of groceries each week because, as she said ‘it’s a responsibility to know future generations are well fed and grow well’. Of course later at night, especially on Thursday's Marathon night, when it was possible, she would start complaining about How Grey’s Anatomy was inaccurate and how Meredith should just take Addison to a closet and resolve their situation by making out. Or how it was amazing in OUAT how Regina and Emma were dating each other's male versions.

You laughed so hard that the neighbor under you started kicking his ceiling. 

And as the months passed by you even started making space for her clothes, so every time you went looking for her at the bar that was 20 minutes away from the hospital she would have something clean and warm to wear. 

Which brings you back to yesterday. 

“What are you doing here Sparks? Didn’t you have that operation with María in the afternoon?” You heard her before you felt her, but your body decided to stay still as she hugged you from behind, resting her arms over your shoulders and putting her head over yours. “I thought you said Maria gave you permission to rest in the apartment because this was the longest you had been in the operating room?” Because her arms were crossed over your chest, you felt how her hands started to caress over the sweatshirt each of your arms. 

“You are so hardworking, why don’t you wanna be in neuro with me? God knows I need someone with capable hands like yours…” You felt how her chest started to move repeatedly behind your head and that's when you heard her snorting. “And brain, of course your brain too.” 

You only rolled your eyes and started to get up from your seat. She tried to keep you in place but considering she was definitely drunk, her strength was null. 

“And I would be in my bed right now if someone didn’t got drunk to the point she can’t even drive.”

“I was gonna ask for an Uber you know?” She says as she takes her phone out of her jeans pocket and starts shaking it softly in front of you. 

You take her phone away and when you press the screen it shows it’s already dead making all her wigglin stop. 

“You are lucky you always come to this place and that Ed has my number.” You swiftly hold her with one arm from the waist and as you pull her to your side, you look back at Ed who was very amused by the scene. “Thank you Ed, until next time!”

“You should take better care of your girlfriend though!” He says with a cocky smile as he winks at you goodbye. 

You try to answer back, but a hand resting on your cheeks makes your focus back on the person you are currently holding.

“You heard him. You should take better care of me. Just as I take care of you.” 

You had every intention to respond back, you  really had, but the moment she pressed her lips against yours it was as if every thought and image in your head just banished. 

The way she was touching you wasn’t strong nor rough. Her fingers were touching your skin as if it was going to break if she tried to hold you any tighter. She turned around spooning you against her without making any distance between the two of you. She tasted like alcohol and cigars, but who would have thought she liked them mint flavored? 

You hadn't even completely left the establishment, but that didn't seem to matter to her after she stuck you to the wall closest to the exit.

“You are always so cute when you're flustered…” She whispered against the corner of your lips, before starting to leave small kisses against your jaw, making you close your eyes and mouth trying to control your reactions. “Maybe I should start making you this way, but only for me though… You’re mine after all.” 

When she looked at you again, she was so close the tip of your noses were brushing against each other, but what made your legs fail you was the way she slid her tongue from your chin to your lips, trying to mark her territory in her drunken state.

“Agatha” You murmured against her cheek, only having for an answer a little purr. “Agatha…”

“Yes, pet?” She said, murmuring against your neck.

“You are drunk, and we need to go. Where are your keys?” 

She groaned softly before resting her head completely on your shoulder. “It’s in my pocket.” Agatha mustered the words as bored as she could, and only because you couldn’t see it, but the way she was smiling showed completely the opposite of that tone, but the cherry on top for Agtha was when you asked her with your voice faltering in which pocket it was. “Left one, front.”

It was enough for you having her resting her whole weight against your body considering she was a little taller than you, but it was completely frustrating how even as drunk as she was, how she was handling the situation, well, how you were going to handle the situation when you came back to your apartment.

Everything had become so messy in a short amount of time that your brain couldn’t even handle it as it normally should. So when she told you where the key of the car was, you moved the other hand that was holding her and started moving it down towards the pocket, what you didn’t expect was the way she started moaning against your ear the moment you reached into the pocket. 

Your breath hitched causing Agatha to bite her lips to keep from laughing, but you, unlike her, closed them to suppress a whimper. You tried to turn your hand but that only made Agatha start to move her hips upwards trying to rub herself against your hand.

“I didn't know you had a thing for public places pet. I think you can feel how excited this makes me feel, maybe I should check on you next, huh?” 

Coming back to today

“I feel like all the people who like her are because they don't know her. Last time one of the nurses crashed into the cart with all the dirty sheets because she was trying to get Dr. Harkness' attention." You turn to look at Kate who is now standing next to you as she shrugs her shoulders. “At least he did get her attention, not the attention he wanted, but he got it.”

“What are we talking about?”

"You haven't even been listening to me! I've been talking to you on the air for like 30 minutes, it's unbelievable dude!” She says a little too loud, making Agatha, Dr. Stark and Director Fury to look at the both of you with lifted brows.

“Sorry!” You say as you round Kate’s neck with your arm and bow your heads a little while whispering in her ear. “You really need to learn when to gossip and how loud to do it!” After releasing her you began to slowly shake your robe to get it back into place. “Besides, what are you talking about? How can you say that everyone is dying to be with Dr. Harkness when they are always talking about Dr. Rogers in pediatrics? I mean, I could almost swear that's all I hear when the nurses come by, even Dr. Barnes once said he just needed a chance.” Kate only snorted at your response. 

“What is so funny?” You asked with complete honesty. 

“Do you have a crush on her or something? Or are you just too dense to notice how every single person that crosses her path wants to have a piece of that?” 

You glared at Kate and she started laughing a little more uncontrollably than before, but the worst thing is that she took it all wrong. You weren’t mad because she called you almost an idiot, but because it wasn’t possible. You were moving a lot more than Kat throughout the Hospital considering how you were going from Dr. Stark, to Dr. Hill to Agatha sometimes. You talked with almost everyone on the levels where she was most seen so, how the hell didn’t you notice everyone wanted her? You weren’t that oblivious, right? Right? 

“I mean, If you think about it who wouldn’t want to date her? She is a winner of several medical awards and is one of the 20 leaders in her field, she is head of the neurology department in one of the most important hospitals worldwide, she has a good salary, she is extremely hot." As Kate's last words left her mouth a strange and unpleasant sensation began to spread through your chest and into your throat. “She’s in her mid 30’s, she’s single and by some old photos she’s aging like fine wine. She’s career oriented and very responsible and for what Nurse Lilia told me the other day, she’s really caring with the people she loves.” She starts moving her hands, simulating a scale. “From wherever you see it, she’s actually a very good option and very tempting… Maybe if I gain her heart she’ll start going easy on me?”

You were spiraling. 

You started to look at Agatha intently.

She was definitely beautiful. You weren't stupid enough not to notice her beauty, but really what was it that caught people's attention?

Could it be the way no matter how she fixed her hair she always looked good? Or maybe it was the way that when she smiled her eyes smiled in such a way that you could swear they sparkled? Maybe it was the way that when she went a long time without speaking or concentrating her voice became hoarse and she had to clear it several times until it returned to its normal tone?

Maybe it was the softness of her lips and the care he took when she kissed you?

You quickly shook your head trying to erase that last thought, but that didn't stop you from feeling how the heat was slowly rising not only to your cheeks but to your ears as well.

“It’s a shame though, considering she already has a girlfriend.” Your head snapped back to Kate looking at her in disbelief. 

“What did you say?”

A/N: So here is part 1.

Honestly when I received the request, I thought it was going to be something short, but when I started writing the words started coming out. I had intended to finish it today, but I had a tarot reading and decided to split it into parts and post this first while I finish the other half.

I hope you liked it, if you think I missed a tag please let me know so I can add it and let me know what you thought. If there is any mistake an apology.

See you next time.

Dividers

Taglist: @sweetmidnights

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: hey everyone! i actually rewrote and reuploaded this chapter. tbh i wanted to write more now that i have time on my hands. i felt like i may be taking things a little slow, so i tried to fix that. overall, im more satisfied with this version. lemme know your thoughts!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Six

“I can’t believe we actually made it back!” Your sister panted, flinging open the refrigerator and gulping down water while you leaned against the door, lost in thought. Thinking about who was following you, thinking about what to do next.

Your parents weren’t around, so you could talk freely without worrying them. Numbly, you trudged to the living room, collapsed onto the couch, and drew slow, steady breaths. You could still feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins and your head started to hurt. 

After fifteen minutes of silence, your sister sat beside you and handed you a chilled water bottle. You took a sip as she finally unleashed the questions she’d been holding back. “Do you know who was following us? How are you sure they were the bad guys? Why were they following us? Do they know where we live? What if they followed us up till here?” 

The last question freaked her out. Peering the curtains, she started scanning the area for “unusual movement”. Maybe you had acted rashly. After all, how could you be so sure they were the bad guys?

“I honestly have no idea. About anything at all.”

She just stared at you, while you continued. “I’m gonna be honest with you because I think keeping you in the dark would be even more dangerous. I don’t think I’m safe here, okay? And as long as I’m around, you guys aren’t safe either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, you said a large amount of energy would be needed to get me here. So, obviously someone intentionally did this. And I think I know who they are. They’re dangerous people, (reader’s sister).”

You could see her expressions change from fear, to confusion, to nothing. Maybe she was understanding the gravity of the situation or maybe she was just too good at hiding her emotions. “So, you think they were following us? Because their experiment was successful?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think it was them. Did you even hear them following us? Why would they let us go this easily?”

Frowning, your sister sank back into the couch, lost in thought. “Well, it is possible they were just two random dudes…” She trailed off, abruptly stood up and started pacing around the room. “Then, it’s official. We solve this problem.” She walked out of sight and ran up the stairs.

“Um… okay.”

A minute later, a cacophony of thuds and clatters echoed as she hauled something downstairs. When you got up to look, she was wrestling with a white board, notebook and several markers. 

“Alright. What the hell?”

“That’s how they do it in movies.”

She dropped the supplies, thrust the notebook into your hands, and began scribbling on the board.

“Let’s start from the beginning. You were on your way to…?” She looked up at you questioningly. “To the park.” Nodding, she jotted it down, muttering to herself. “And the you from here was on her way to the doctor.”

“What’s the point of all this?”

“Um, it’s a problem solving technique. You gather all the information you have, analyse it, find the root cause, eliminate it and find possible solutions. Simple.”

“Maybe you should’ve started with that.”

You sat down with her on the floor and narrated everything that had happened, while she described your predecessor’s day. After about an hour, the notebook was filled and the white board overflowed with little diagrams, bullet points and highlighted keywords. 

“Okay, I’ll repeat everything. Correct me if I’m wrong.” You nodded and she continued. “So you left for the park, sat under a tree to play that game, but your phone wasn’t working–” 

“No, it is working. See.” You unlocked your phone and swiped left and right. “Just the app wasn’t working.”

“She corrected the point on the board and continued. “Okay, okay. The app wasn’t working, then you came home and you were here. So, we can assume the soul-switching took place sometime after you left and before you came home. Did I get everything right?”

Your sister had asked you to tell her everything, no matter how trivial it seemed. And just then you remembered something. “Wait! I remember the park was empty this morning. But after I sat down, I saw this woman looking for her cat. So like, there were people then, but not when I got there.”

Your sister’s eyes bulged out and she lifted her lips into the biggest smile you’d ever seen. “So that’s where it happened. Sometime after you sat down and before you saw the woman. That’s probably when your soul was switched!” She practically started prancing around the room. The sight of it made you laugh heartily. 

After your little celebration, she switched back to the work mode. “Now, we have a very important piece of information. Anyway, after that you got home, did the whole drama. Then you went to the doctor. And everything went smoothly there, you say?”

“Yep, the smoothest it could go. Although, Zayne did say the results showed drastic changes. But we know why.” She tapped the marker against her lips, nodding grimly. “Then you got back home. We talked, went to the restaurant and were being followed by these weird dudes.”

“Weird, how? Because they followed us?”

“No, because their shadows were weird. Like there was something on their heads.”

That new revelation put you into deeper thought. Two guys with weirdly shaped shadows? It didn’t click anything, so you just shrugged it off. 

“We have all the information. We analysed it. We also know the root cause. The question is how do we eliminate it?”

“We can’t. At least, not yet. But the bigger question is do they really know their experiment was successful?”

“And why did they bring you here?”

That was something you hadn’t given your entire attention too. Was it because of the aether core? Your predecessor had it too so why bring you here? Was something wrong with her? But the MC had the ability to reincarnate, right? Nothing matched up. Nothing made sense. You weren’t even sure if EVER had brought you here. Maybe it was someone else or maybe it was accidental. But wait, did she have the aether core in her heart? After all, it was discovered as a result of illegal experiments.

“Hey, um… Was there something wrong with your sister?”

She raised her eyebrow and looked up at you. “Clarify.”

“Like, I don’t know. Did she spend most of her childhood in a hospital, you know? Surgeries and all that. Did she have any diseases or was she physically weak?”

She passed a very confused and worried look your way, but replied nonetheless. “We have a family album here somewhere. You can see, she was perfectly fine. And no, she was training to be a Hunter, remember? She wasn’t weak or sick.”

“Ugh!” You sighed and ruffled your hair. “Nothing makes any sense. I do have a few theories, but they don’t line up, considering the fact that your sister was perfectly normal.”

It had been a while since you played the game and now you were surely starting to forget things. You could only remember fragments of the main story. Maybe you hadn’t paid much attention to it? How could you confirm whether the old you had an aether core in her heart or not? After careful consideration, it clicked.

“Zayne!” He knew about the aether core in MC’s heart, but this one knows too.

“What about Zayne?” 

“In the game, the MC had something.” You tried your best to dumb it down for someone who had no idea about things from the get-go and whom you didn’t want to know more than they should. “It was powerful and it made her the target of illegal experiments and stuff.” 

You could see the horror plastered all over your sister’s face. “But Zayne knew about it. And I want to confirm if this one knows too. I don’t know if he’ll just straight up tell me. But it’s worth a shot, you know?”

She pursed her lips and a minute later she spoke up. “So, how will you approach the topic? Hey Zayne. Do I have something powerful and dangerous?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” It was true, you didn’t have a lot of knowledge about the aether core. There were memory cards you couldn’t get, so you were just left with your imagination. But like your sister had said, not everything was supposed to be like in the game.  After all, this was the real world. By now, you were aware of some very obvious differences. You weren’t an orphan, although you and Caleb were close, you didn’t grow up under the same roof. And what if…  What if you didn’t share a tragic past with any of the love interests? What if things really were normal here?

But your sister snapped you out of your thoughts. “No, wait. Don’t ask him anything. In fact, just forget anything happened.”

“Why would I-”

“Let’s say some dangerous organisation brought you here. If you go around asking people questions about yourself, it would surely grab their attention. Even if it’s Zayne.”

As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. That earlier encounter had freaked you out enough. You really weren’t looking for actual attention from the culprits. So, now you had to lie low. Pretend everything was alright, that you were really the old you. To convince them that the experiment failed. 

Your fingers twitched at the thought of pretending. Could you really play your old self after everything? Before further worry and anxiety engulfed you, you felt a soft hand on your shoulder. It truly warmed your heart that your sister was doing everything she could to help you out, make you feel welcomed, and to let you know she wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.

A noise from outside startled you and you both jolted your heads toward the source of the sound. Slowly creeping up to the window, your sister pulled the curtain to the side, looked out and rolled her eyes. “That creepy crow again.”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise up.

Was it keeping an eye on you?

“What is Mephisto doing here?”

“Mephisto? That thing has a name?”

“Yeah. He’s Sy-Skye’s pet crow.”

“Who the hell is Skye?”

Now, that rang a bell. You remembered how the MC had that very alias for Sylus. But if Mephisto was here…

“Wait a minute. You said weird shadows. What exactly was on their head?” You turned to look at your sister expectantly. “Like they were wearing cat headbands...” You’d been so oblivious.

“Oh, my god! I’m so, so stupid.” You sighed falling to your knees. Mephisto was right there. You would’ve looked so stupid running for your life earlier. But why were they following you? 

“The dudes we saw earlier were Luke and Kieran! They work for Skye.”

“Okay, but who the hell is Skye? Is he the bad guy?”

You turned to look at her. “No, he’s the fifth love interest. My favourite one. Skye, nickname Sy.” She made a little ‘o’ with her lips as she started understanding everything you threw her way. You were still peering out the window, while Mephisto’s eyes were locked on you. Who knew how long he had been following you around?

“But why is he here? At this hour.”

You didn’t know. Your temple ached as the myriad of questions kept rising up with every passing moment. You did not have the answer to anything at all. But maybe now you knew how to get them.

“We should bring it inside.” Your suggestion was met with utter shock and straight refusal. “What? The crow? Hell, no.” 

“That’s how we can get answers by not getting unnecessary attention.”

She thought about it for a moment then spoke up. “But since we don’t know who brought you here, we can’t rule out the possibility it wasn’t Skye. Remember he’s technically killed two people.”

And way more than that. 

After the explosion, MC though Sylus was behind it, but turned out he wasn’t. Maybe you were going through the same thing. Being made to believe Sylus did something he actually didn’t. But this wasn’t a game! Why did you keep forgetting that? 

Did Sylus bring you here? That would explain Mephisto following you around. Maybe he was checking if the experiment worked. But why would he do that? All you had to do was figure one thing out.

“We need to figure out how much things are different from the game. Because Skye isn’t a bad guy.” Technically, you were right. Skye wasn’t the bad buy. 

“Okay… And how do we do that?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze once again fell on the crow outside. What could be a harmless way of figuring out if things were exactly like the game? Your sister couldn’t help you on this, so you were really just on your own. Think, think, think!

“Is anyone in our neighborhood a Hunter?”

“Sure. I don’t know his name. But I’ve seen him come and go.”

This was your only hope. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved, but things were far from done. “What does he look like?”

“Uh, tall, fair skin, silver hair. I’ve mostly seen him in white, yellow or purple clothes.”

At that point, you felt as if you could die from happiness. You wanted to jump around, scream, but for now you resorted to a little ‘yes!’.

“Okay, that’s good. But I don’t think that’ll be enough.” You needed more, but you felt like your mind was going blank. Why couldn’t you think of anything else? Maybe something minor could help you out. 

At the whim of giving up and as a last resort, you asked, “Is Caleb an orphan?”

“Yes, Aunt Josephine adopted him.”

Josephine. 

As the shock set in, you put your hand on your mouth and slowly sank into the couch. Holy shit!

“What? Is something wrong?” Your sister sat down beside you and slightly shook you when you didn’t reply. But truth was, you’d had enough. You needed answers and the crow outside was your only hope. Yes, you were scared, but not knowing the truth and living in oblivion was scarier. 

Maybe at one point, you wished to be able to live in this fantasy, but now that you were here you were terrified. You couldn’t go to bed knowing an opportunity was right there but you were too hesitant to take a risk. You couldn’t go back, you’d acknowledged that truth. But you weren’t gonna sit back and let those assholes ruin someone else’s life too and presumably get away with it.

 So what was it gonna be? Curiosity had finally killed the cat.

You abruptly got up, opened the door, slowly crept up towards the crow and held it tightly right before it could fly away from your clutches. After what felt like an eternity of struggling, you brought it inside. Held it up till your face, maintaining constant eye contact.

“Okay, listen up, you little piece of shit. Tell your daddy to get his ass here and stop stalking me like a little pussy. I’m scared as fuck and if I find out that he did this, you’ll be sorry. Get it?”

You shook the mechanical crow violently prompting it to let out a low, strained caw.

Opening the door, you loosened your hands and let it fly away. That’ll do it.

“Are you sure that’s the dude you like?”

Lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim, @pillarofsnow, @rxelarailuj, @brekkers-whore, @one17, @cchiiwinkle, @babyx91, @mourning-into-dancing, @yuhuahuaaa, @stxrrielle, @tapiokay, @glassandhoney, @animelover18, @paper--angel, @plzdonutpercieveme, @coffeedragonhobbyist, @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme, @harbingers-lullaby

[tainkirrahe]

okay humidity in my area is at 86% and I cannot sleep so: Belinda Chandra essay - spoilers for the entire season including Reality War as I rewatched all of S2 today for the finale so this is all still fresh in my head:

Belinda is introduced in Robot Revolution as a competent, hardworking nurse who loves her job and who, seventeen years previously, had the stones to tell a would-be controlling boyfriend to step off at an age where more vulnerable people may have become trapped in an unhealthy relationship. When the robots come for her she fights - verbally - all the way to Missbelindachandra and has a distinct "you cannot treat me like this" attitude with both the robots and the Doctor which forces the Doctor to change the way he acts towards her. In the dénouement of the episode she decides that she will sacrifice herself on the altar of marriage specifically to save an entire race of people - but then the moment she is given an out, the moment she sees Alan holding the certificate, she works out how to save herself and does so. She shows no pity for the guy who tried to force her into eternal marital servitude and the episode is clear that Alan is no great loss. She then tells the Doctor to knock his bullshit off and take her home - she is not interested in being anyone's property and just wants to go back to her normal life so she can carry on doing what she's passionate about. She's Queen Shit™.

In Lux she still has the clear goal of getting home but is willing to put aside her needs to help with the mystery of the missing people because she is as compassionate as she is strong. She sees someone suffering - the lady in the diner - and her instinct is to do whatever she needs to in order to resolve that person's pain. It's probably why she became a nurse. And in that episode she takes an active part in saving the Doctor, even if the action is taken from her by Mr. Pye to atone for what he'd done in allowing the people to stay trapped so he could be with his wife. Still Queen Shit! Still gets back on track the moment the situation is resolved! Get me home Doctor I got a job to go back to!

We then get The Well, in which she uses her skills as a nurse with Aliss to both fix up her arm but also put Aliss at ease. She shows that she's good at talking to patients, keeping them calm, and working methodically with medical tools even if she's unfamiliar with them. And when she spots the entity on two separate occasions she plays a balancing act of trying to keep her fear under control - aware that she's surrounded by soldiers with weapons - whilst also teasing information out of Aliss with her bedside manner. When the entity jumps to her she agrees with the decision to be shot to knock it off, rationally showing that she knows this is the only chance she has. Slightly less agency, but still strong character beats that shows she's in charge of herself.

Lucky Day doesn't give us much, and The Story & The Engine also doesn't have a role for her although the Doctor choosing to tell a story about her work as a nurse is a lovely moment - Fifteen acknowledging the importance of her job because he has seen how good at it she is. I still think Belinda feels like Belinda in these stories, and in Engine she is shown figuring out how to ask the TARDIS what is wrong and goes looking for the Doctor rather than staying put in the only spaceship that can take her home. She still has the initiative to nudge the narrative along. She's still Queen Shit! Just less of her.

And then we get Interstellar Song Contest which is a badly written episode in its own right, and the first episode where to me she stops feeling like Belinda and her writing becomes...jarring. She's horrified by the Doctor's violent side, it's her horror that gets him to stop...then she immediately hugs him and is like :) yay I am glad we are friends again :) you're so wonderful!! and we see that strong independent Belinda from just two episodes ago is...gone. This wasn't written by RTD but he did have final approval over scripts and could have given notes to fix her, but on the whole, okay, the episode is inconsequential to the broader story of the season barring Graham Norton saying the Earth exploded and The Rani bi-generating, both of which had nothing to do with the events of the episode proper.

Wish World starts off suitably jarring, showing a housewife with Belinda's face who acts nothing like Belinda for 90% of the episode. The only two scenes that feel like her are when she questions giving birth to Poppy, and the scene immediately after this where she runs into the woods because she is so horrified by this new reality that she screams in agony at the life she's been forced into all whilst being unaware as to why exactly she feels this way. The episode makes it very, very clear that Belinda is hurting. She's hurting at being left at home to play house; she's hurting that there's something up with her husband she can't place; she's hurting when the two most important women in her life (her mother and grandmother) tell her to her face that she will never be anything more than a wife and that this is the only thing she can wish for her daughter as well. This should have been the part where Belinda woke up, or started to. When she saw Fifteen doing the table trick with the mugs she definitely should have started to doubt, because that's what Belinda from episodes 1-6 would have done - the Belinda who saved herself from Alan, the Belinda who loved a good mystery, the Belinda who had no time for the Doctor's nonsense. But...she doesn't. She calls The Gay Police on her husband and spends the rest of the episode with a :( face yelling that she's married to the Doctor and has a kid and those are her only two concerns. She doesn't even seem to care that she has been arrested, her only concerns are for John Smith and Poppy. She's become a shell, and initially I thought she was written that way to show just how monstrous the wish world is but then...

...we hit Reality War, and Belinda is, quite frankly, brutally murdered on screen before our very eyes. The Belinda in Reality War never gets to be angry at what was done to her. She never gets to take part in any of the action. She never gets to have a single thought about herself or what is happening to her: the only thing she cares about from the first minute she's on screen is the toddler that an alt-right grifter stapled to her in his mummy fetish Daily Mail fantasy land. And even worse, the Doctor also now sees her as only being Poppy's mum. Not the brilliant woman that he has been trying to get home for seven episodes. Not a nurse. Not a companion. Not even a person at all. Not horrified that he was forced into a non-consensual relationship with someone whilst they were both brainwashed. To Fifteen Belinda is Poppy's incubator/babysitter and nothing else; he literally puts her in a soundproof box to remove her from being able to take any part in saving the day.

And then somehow it gets worse. Not only does Belinda have to suffer the indignity of having every single one of her character traits ripped away from her, not only does she spend her last episode we will ever see her in being trapped in a literal box with nothing to do, but she now also has her entire fucking identity and past overwritten on the whim of the Doctor. The guy who has gone around for an hour telling everyone he can't have kids, and the resolution for this is that Belinda must therefore have his child for him. And she must be happy about this. And we, as the audience, must also be happy about this: this is a good and happy ending, coming on the heels of an episode whose central premise is how horrifying it would be to wake up one day in a world where someone else tells you who you have to be, and having the Doctor's big scene be him rejecting masculine gender roles by changing his clothes and attitude, all whilst pummelling Belinda into a box and saying: you're a woman. This is what you want. Aren't you happy you now have your baby? And having Belinda smile through it all and act like having her independence deleted is the greatest thing in the world.

All set to inspiring music as Fifteen rides off into the sunset - because, you see, Fifteen can ride off into the sunset. He's had the kid he wants, he's shoved it into the arms of a woman to look after whilst he gets to go off and have fun adventures. He's technically a dad even if the baby is no longer his, yaaaay! Belinda even gets a moment to look wistful when talking about how she would have loved to see Neptune, but she now can't, because Fifteen wanted a kid and she's now stuck at home with the consequences of his choice.

Russell T Davies looked at the first black male Doctor and said "yeah, I'm gonna finish his season by having him not show up for the kid he wanted lmao" and in doing so also wrote a narrative in which a smart, driven, feisty, confident woman got squashed into a box and told she can't be anything more than her reproductive ability.

I hate this.

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter One

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.8k

A/N : A full explanation of expected themes and TWs for this fic can be found here if you are uncomfortable with dark romance/toxic romance then this fic might not be for you.

Master List

Chapter One

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof. 

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”  

“Wow, that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to your  lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up, your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

The moment felt like it lasted a lifetime, his gaze fixed on yours, his dark eyes filled with unspoken threats. And promises.

“Whiskey,” he said, a scratchy quality to his voice, as if his throat was raw from screaming.

“You want the good stuff or the cheap stuff?” You asked, blinking and finally managing to break his hold over you.

Instead of answering, he patted his jacket pockets before fishing out a wallet, eyeing it as if he’d never seen it before. As he opened it and checked its contents, you tried to feign indifference, but you couldn’t help but notice the stack of bills, and how he seemed just as surprised by them as you were.

“The good stuff,” he finally answered, his eyes finding yours again.

“Excellent choice,” you answered.

After grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar in front of him, you turned to grab a bottle from the top shelf, stretching as you reached for it.

Jenna jokingly called it Tip-teasing and had been the one to teach you it when you first took the job. It was simple really; tending bar was a performance, like a striptease but you got to keep your clothes on. You’d bend and stretch in ways that showed off your figure and a little bit of skin, and the customers would suddenly feel more inclined to leave you a tip. The trick was to be flirty enough to make them want you, but not so much so that they thought they had a shot.

It wasn’t how you’d envisioned earning a living, but your hourly wage at Sam's wasn’t enough to live on and, honestly, with the way some patrons behaved you felt entitled to take them for every penny they were dumb enough to part with. 

You hadn’t decided if you wanted to help empty this guy’s wallet, but you still put on a show for him as you stretched to grab the bottle from the top shelf, your skirt and blouse both shifting and revealing a little more skin. You didn’t even have to check the mirrored wall behind the bar to know he was watching your every move. It felt like his gaze was burning into your back, like he was trying to devour you whole with just his eyes.

And when you turned back he was still looking at you just as intensely, like you were the first woman he’d seen in months. His gaze flickered downwards to the low neckline of your blouse for the briefest of seconds, and you knew you had him on the hook.

“Not seen you in here before,” you said, filling his glass. “You from around here?”

“Yeah but I’ve been... away...” he answered.

Away in a place like Sam’s meant one of two things; either he was ex-military or he’d been doing time. Normally you could tell which just from the look of a guy, but not him. His clothes were a poor fit and didn’t suit him, and, honestly, the jacket he was wearing made him look like a dealer who sold drugs to teens at raves, but you didn’t get that vibe from him. And the scars on his face were like nothing you’d ever seen before. 

But you didn’t push, didn’t pry. You knew better than anyone not to ask questions.

“Well, welcome to Sam’s,” you said with a smile as he placed down a twenty and told you to keep the change. “Gimme a shout if you need anything else.”

Jenna’s eyes met yours the moment you turned away from him, obviously interested in the new customer but, more importantly, interested in how well he had tipped. Her eyes lit up when you flashed the twenty on the way to the cash register. 

While it wasn’t policy or any sort of rule, you and Jenna always split tips when you were on shift together, teaming up and taking the patrons of Sam’s bar for everything you could. The hourly was shit and you both needed to make ends meet. And, you made a great team; Jenna’s shamelessness appealed to some customers, while your subtleness appealed to others. Between the pair of you, you emptied a lot of wallets.

“Looks like someone’s thirsty for more than whiskey,” Jenna joked under her breath. “He’s practically fucking you with his eyes.” 

You nudged past her, opening the register and depositing the bill. You gave a sly glance in the mirror, confirming that he was watching you, but you didn’t think much of it. “He can look at me any way he wants if he’s gonna keep dropping twenties.”

Over the next hour or so there was a noticeable change in the man, he seemed to relax a little, though not in the way that suggested he was on his way to being drunk. It was the kind of relaxed that came from comfort and safety. You wondered if he was hiding out, if the cops were going to be waiting for him at the end of the night, but you doubted it. 

You’d seen enough guys come through after pulling jobs, high on adrenaline, but this guy - ugh it annoyed you how difficult he was to read, so much so that he became your focus and you watched every little shift and move he made. It reached a point where you were staring at him almost as much as he was staring at you.

“Just fuck him and get it over with,” Jenna muttered, watching you after your eyes followed him towards the mens bathroom and had been staring at the closed door for at least a couple of minutes.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just follow him into the bathroom and let him bend me over in one of the stalls,” you answered sarcastically, turning back to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I think that’s exactly what you need.” She grinned at you, ducking out of the way as you threw an ice cube at her. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, even with the scars, he’s very...”

She trailed off and you didn’t think twice before finishing her thought; “fuckable?”

“Glad you think so.”

Your heart stopped and your cheeks immediately started to warm. Jenna bit her lip, desperately trying to hold back a laugh, her face reddening with the effort. Wincing, you turned, finding him sitting at the bar again, an amused smile on his lips. And there was just something about that smile, something that felt right, that made you think it was him far more than the grim expression he’d been sporting since you’d arrived and found him at the bar.

“We were just -” you tried to explain.

“Oh, I got the gist of it, don’t worry,” he said.

Luckily he seemed more amused than anything, his eyes only leaving yours for a second to watch as Jenna headed towards the door, muttering something about a smoke break as she abandoned you.

You turned from him and took a breath, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the back before looking at him again. Without a word, you refilled his glass. When he started to reach for his wallet, you gave a wave of your hand.

“It’s on the house.”

“Is that because I’m fuckable or because you’re embarrassed?” He asked, still smiling at you.

“I’m not embarrassed,” you answered automatically, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, but then you realised the implications.

“Good to know,” he said. Then he drained his glass, keeping you there a little while longer. As you filled it again, he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

You offered your name in return, before trying to apologise; “look, I’m sorry about Jenna, she just gets a little -” you paused, trying to think of a way to describe it, “- openly horny.”

Billy laughed and, for reasons you didn’t understand, it almost sounded alien, like he’d never laughed before - or like it had been a really long time since he had. “And you don’t?”

The question caught you off guard and had an eyebrow rising.

“I try not to.”

“Then I guess I should be honoured that you find me fuckable,” he teased.

Your eyes rolled and you were about to come up with a devastatingly witty retort when the door opened and a group of guys entered. You managed to bite back a sigh of relief at the distraction, glad that you had a reason to step away from Billy for a moment. 

While most of the group that had entered made for one of the tables at the back, a familiar face headed towards the bar, grinning from ear to ear at you.

“Hi, Jake,” you greeted, leaning on the bar a little, letting him get a good look at you, “you guys want the usual?”

He nodded and watched as you set about pulling pints for him and his buddies. 

“So,” he said, “you decided when you’re gonna let me take you out yet?” 

A slight, teasing laugh slipped from your lips and you shook your head.

“You know my rule, Jake,” you responded, like you always did, keeping a smile on your lips despite your disinterest. “I don’t date customers.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once? I’d show you a real good time,” he countered.

“If I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for every other guy who comes through here,” you answered, laughing. “I’d be on dates every night, then when would I find time to watch Grey’s Anatomy?”

Billy let out a laugh and both you and Jake looked his way. For a moment you thought there was going to be trouble.

“Don’t worry, she just shot me down too,” Billy shrugged before taking a good look at Jake, his attention fixing on Jake's army jacket. “You earn that jacket, or did you buy it?” 

“I earned it,” Jake answered, bristling. You watched the two men, ready to intervene if needed. “You earn those scars on your face?”

You didn’t expect Billy to laugh, but you found yourself relieved.

“Yeah, I guess I must’ve,” was all Billy offered in answer and a part of you was disappointed that he didn’t give more than that. He reached into his pocket, pulling three twenties from his wallet, putting them down, still looking at Jake. “They’re on me.”

That settled, you finished pouring the drinks. Jake invited Billy to join his friends and he did, leaving you at the bar, though you weren’t alone for long. Jenna decided to slink back in, still looking like she was about to burst into hysterical laughter.

“You’re not funny,” you told her, swiping at her, clipping her arm with the back of your hand.

“Please, you should have seen your face,” she said with a smirk, though she was soon frowning when she realised Billy had disappeared. “Did you scare him off?”

“He’s made some new friends,” you told her, nodding towards Jake and his crew.

And that was where he stayed for the rest of the night, save for when it was his turn to get a round and, then, he’d linger at the bar chatting to either you or Jenna, though it soon became clear he was more interested in speaking to you. For the most part you indulged him, playing along with his teasing comments and reaping the rewards every time another round of drinks was ordered.

“So, this rule of yours...” he said.

“What about it?”

“Does it apply to fuckable customers?” He asked, smirking as you rolled your eyes.

“Especially the fuckable ones,” you retorted.

“What if I never came back?”

“Sorry, there are no loopholes.” You shrugged as you placed the last full glass in front of him.

“The funny thing about rules is that they wouldn’t be rules if they couldn’t be broken,” he answered back, grabbing the glasses and heading back to his new friends before you could respond.

The night drew on and, by last call, you and Jenna had made more in tips than you had in weeks, and both of you knew it was thanks to Billy. It took some cajoling to get the group to leave, but once they were gone, you set about closing the bar.

“I feel kinda dirty,” you joked to Jenna as you counted up and divided the tips. 

“Why? Because you let him spend the night eye-fucking you?” Jenna laughed. “If he comes back, you better keep putting on a show. With tips like these I might actually finally be able to afford a better apartment.” 

“In that case, I’ll wear my shortest skirt,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention.”

She knew you too well, and she was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. It had felt nice to have someone who wasn’t blind drunk or just looking to pester you for a quick fuck to notice you like that. But, rules were rules, and you weren’t going to be convinced to change your mind so easily.

“It’s a shame I can’t find a man who doesn’t drink here who looks at me like that,” was all you gave her.

“I told you, you need to stop looking for the safe guys and just have some fun... and Billy looks like he’d be a lot of fun...”

“Uh-huh, I’ll get right on that,” you retorted, “I’ll let him fuck me on the bar tomorrow night as long as he promises to keep tipping.”

The joking continued until you were both ready to leave, locking up and going your separate ways. You’d been living in Brooklyn long enough to feel reasonably safe on the streets, even late at night. So the four block walk home didn’t usually bother you, but that night something felt different.

You told yourself it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about him, Billy, and the way he’d been watching you all night, but you felt like you were being followed. Glancing over your shoulder, you checked behind you, almost expecting to find him there, but the streets were empty and, a moment later, you felt ridiculous for having the thought in the first place.

What was it about him? Why was he suddenly so stuck in your head?

(You knew the answer - of course you knew the answer - you just felt shitty admitting it, even to yourself. It was the scars and the dark eyes that went with them. He was a man with a story, trauma. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something mysterious and interesting.)

When you arrived at the bar the following evening, he was there again, sitting at the bar. His eyes found you the moment you stepped through the door the corner of his lips twitched upwards for a second.

“Back again?” You asked, smiling as you shrugged off your coat.

“I like the atmosphere in here,” he answered, his shoulder ticking upwards in a half-shrug.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Jenna remarked, barely holding back a laugh as walked to a table behind him to collect empty glasses.

You had to look away, biting back a laugh of your own, hanging your coat up in the back before moving behind the bar.

“Ignore her, she’s -”

“Fabulous?” Jenna interjected.

“A pain in the ass,” you said.

A smile appeared on Billy’s lips and you felt the full weight of his attention on you while you placed a glass in front of him and turned to grab the whiskey. You filled his glass and, as you pushed it towards him, he reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. It felt deliberate but you didn’t say anything.

When he opened his wallet again, you noticed that it was full again, and you found yourself wondering just where he’d gone after he’d left the bar last night. If Billy noticed you staring at his wallet, he didn’t seem to care.

“So,” he started, “been working here long?”

“About a year,” you shrugged, not really interested in talking about yourself.

“You from around here?”

“Not originally.”

“No?” He continued. “Been in New York long?”

“Just over a year.”

He let out a laugh. “You don’t give much away, do you?”

“Not if I can help it,” you answered back, flashing him a playful smile.

Despite your evasiveness and your obvious attempts at keeping him from getting to know you, Billy just smiled, seeming amused by it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can’t help it.”

“Oh really?” You asked, almost enjoying his persistence.

He seemed a lot more sure of himself than he had yesterday, a lot more comfortable in the bar and around you. You weren’t sure what had inspired the change, but he hadn’t given you any reason for concern, so you were happy to play along with him.

“I have ways of getting pretty girls to open up to me,” he told you.

You hated the way your thighs squeezed together and you were glad of the bar between you, concealing your visceral reaction to his words, and to him. Part of you was almost ready to give in, to throw caution to the wind and let him try to open you up, both literally and figuratively.

“Aww you think I’m pretty?” You teased playfully, batting your eyelashes at him, leaning on the bar a little more.

“You’re more than that and you know it,” he answered, his gaze dropping to the low neckline of the tank top you’d opted to wear tonight for a second. “You’re trouble.”

Before you could even think to ask him what he meant, the door opened and in walked Jake and his crew. He called out to Billy, catching his attention and motioning towards the table they’d been at last night.

“To be continued,” he said, sliding off the stool.

“Can’t wait,” you replied teasingly.

As the bar got busier, you lost track of Billy and what he was doing whenever he wasn’t directly in front of you at the bar. It was a busy night, busier than it had been in a while and it was made so much worse when Jenna grabbed you to tell you that she needed to leave early an hour before closing.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You asked.

“I’m sorry,” she told you, “my idiot brother got himself in an accident and now I have to go get him from the hospital. My mom’s freaking out - you know how she gets.” Unfortunately, you did know how she got, and since you’d arrived in New York Jenna’s mom had been more of a mother to you than your own ever had. “I can call Sam, ask him to get off his ass and actually do some work?”

You practically winced; Sam’s favourite part of owning a bar was not having to work in the bar and still make money from it. He mostly did a few hours during the day when the place was empty, and spent his evenings doing god only knew what. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, but working with him was always uncomfortable - like anyone in a management position, he was happy to criticise but less happy to actually help.

“No, it’s -” you sighed, “- it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she told you, throwing her arms around you and hugging you for a second before heading out, stopping only briefly to say something to Jake and Billy.

It wasn’t so much the last hour that was the issue, you hated manning the bar on your own because all the drunks liked to drag their feet at the end of the night, and having to deal with cashing up on your own always made you a little uncomfortable.

But, tonight, everything seemed to be going well.

Seemed being the operative word.

Someone stepped in just as the last customer had left and, from the looks of him, he was already wasted from wherever he’d been drinking already. He’d probably been kicked out of somewhere and wanted to try his luck at Sam’s.

“We’re closed,” you told him.

“I just want one more drink,” he said. 

“Yeah and I wanna go home.” You stepped out from behind the bar, ready to shoo him towards the door. “The Styx two blocks over is still open -”

“That’s where I just came from.”

Great, so he’d been kicked out of the only bar in the neighbourhood that had a worse reputation than Sam’s. 

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, “‘cause we’re closed and you’re not getting a drink here.”

If you’d been thinking straight, if you hadn’t been so damned tired, so fucking cocky, you never would have stepped as close as you did. Before you could even think to step back, his hand was on your shoulder. Your instant instinct was to swing your arm, catching him across the face with an open palm, but that just made things worse.

His other hand grabbed your arm and he pushed you backwards against the bar, with enough force to wind you.

“I said I want a drink, bitch,” he snarled.

“She said the bar’s closed.”

Shock jolted through you the second the drunk was pulled away from you and his head was slammed against the bar. A sickening thump turned your stomach and you watched, frozen, as his arm was awkwardly twisted behind his back and his face was dragged along the length of the bartop. At the end  of the bar he was thrown to the ground.

Billy.

It took a moment for it to register that it was Billy who’d come to your defence, kicking the drunk in the stomach, over and over, as he tried to curl up on the floor and protect himself. You were shaking, stuck between thoughts of wanting to see the drunk get what he deserved and knowing that it would only cause more trouble if he ended up dead.

The change in Billy was so sudden, so severe and jarring, that for a moment you dared to think that surely this couldn’t be the same man who’d been joking and laughing with you over the last couple of nights. Now you were seeing a new side to him, something dangerous, violent, vicious.

He didn’t look like he was going to stop. It looked like he wanted the drunk hurt, dead even. For a few moments he seemed utterly out of control.

“Billy, stop,” you protested weakly, your voice coming out too quiet.

It was lucky that Jake was still around. He grappled with Billy, struggling but managing to pull him back. And, after a very brief conversation between the two, Jake pulled the drunk off the floor and led him outside to god only knew where.

When Billy turned back, you found yourself forcing a breath, trying not to look as upset or shaken as you felt.

“Are you -”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, heading around the bar, not wanting to show any weakness.

Your back hurt and you still felt winded, but what got to you most was the way your hands shook as you reached for a glass and a vodka bottle.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face,” he told you, following after you. “Did he hurt you?”

“I said I’m fine, so can you just drop it?”

You knew better than most where weakness got you and, in a place like Sam’s, you couldn’t afford to be weak. You did have to put on a brave face because that was all part of the job; you needed to be tough, you needed to be able to put up with this kind of shit happening. But try as you might, it wasn’t you. For all your bravado, it had scared you.

Billy watched as you poured a drink and knocked it back, not saying a word as you tried to still your trembling hands. After a pause, you reached for a second glass and placed it on the bar for him, pouring him a healthy measure of vodka while you refilled your own glass.

Neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to have a couple of silent drinks; you didn’t know what to say and he clearly didn’t want to get his head bitten off again. But it soon became awkward and uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to -” you started, your voice threatening to break despite your best efforts to sound cool and detached. 

“Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice firm and unwilling to consider anything to the contrary.

You didn’t dare ask why he felt like he had to intervene. You didn’t even want to ask why he and Jake had still been there. In fact, you decided that you didn’t want to think about it anymore. All you wanted was to forget it ever happened.

After a couple more drinks, you put the bottle away. The buzz you felt was more than enough, and you just wanted to go home.

Billy stayed while you locked up, waiting out on the sidewalk, watching your every move. Once you were done, you turned to him, expecting him to leave but, instead, he just looked at you.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” You asked.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re home safe.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need an escort, Billy,” you sighed, just wanting the night to be over.

“Who said I was offering?”

Common sense told you to argue, but you got the feeling that there was nothing you could say to stop him. And, honestly, some part of you felt glad of the company, even if you couldn’t admit it. But something had dramatically shifted; he’d seen you weak and vulnerable and you’d seen him - well, whatever that had been.

With a resigned sigh, you started to walk, a slight sway in your step from the vodka you’d been necking on an empty stomach. Billy fell into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, not saying another word until you huffed another sigh.

“Have I done something wrong? ‘cause you’re treating me like I’m the one who had my hands on you,” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. Anger? No, irritation.

The thought caused you to falter. For all his talk, it was the most forward he’d ever been with you, like the game he’d been playing had ended and something else had taken its place. And, in a way, you felt bad. He was right, he hadn’t done anything but you were still taking your shitty mood out on him.

“Sorry,” you finally answered. “I’m just used to taking care of myself and that...” 

“I get it. When something like that happens, it makes you doubt yourself.”

You glanced at him, catching the way his shoulder awkwardly hitched, almost like he was in pain, like he’d pulled something saving you. But, of course, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask anything. The lines had already become far too blurred for your liking; who you were in the bar and who you were out in the real world were two very different things.

You didn’t speak again until you were outside your apartment building, a creeping feeling of embarrassment and dread filling you. Putting it nicely, it was a shithole. Despite the hour, there was music blaring from the ground floor and a group of kids were hanging out on the steps, drinking, smoking and getting high. It wasn’t a great place to live, but it was all you could afford.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said before you could say anything.

You opened your mouth to protest but just one look from him told you that it was pointless and you were too tired to argue with him. 

The elevator was out of order but he didn’t comment or complain on the slow walk up four flights of stairs. You did. Under your breath you complained a lot. And, by the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you had to invite him in for just one more drink, to thank him for everything he’d done for you. And you hated it, hated letting this man that you hardly knew into your apartment, letting him see a side of you that you kept hidden.

(Worst still, you hated thinking how this would change things, how he probably wouldn’t look at you the same way tomorrow. He’d seen that you were more fragile than you let on, and you were certain that whatever interest he’d had in you was well and truly over.)

He gave you a look before accepting your invitation, an indecipherable smile on his lips, before stepping into your apartment and setting in motion a chain of events that was going to change your whole life.

End Note : Again, if you didn't see the explanation of what themes and TWs this fic will have, you can find a full list here. This chapter is pretty much set up, but things will start getting dark and smutty from next chapter onwards. As with my other Billy fics, I'm hoping to be able to post this weekly on Fridays.

As always you comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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[onecarelessowner]

Forever (Is Our Today)

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff, grief mentioned just in passing, marriage talk if that's not your thing, no use of y/n

Summary: You catch a space flu (thanks to one of the Doctor’s brilliant ideas). She gives you a pill that’ll fix it fast. She just wasn’t expecting the side effects… or what you’d end up saying because of them.

Author's note: heeey so this is the first time I'm posting my fic here and I'm so excited to get this blog up and running and full of my wife.

this fic was born out of my own sickness (I have been very sick the last few days) and my brain needed to write about 13 so... here we go. english isn't my first language and i am sick still so i hope you enjoy it all the same.

you can also read this on ao3.

The Doctor knew she shouldn’t have taken you to that marathon on a freezing waterfall. Humans never make it to the final round and she should’ve guessed that is for a reason.

But no… She decided to bring you with her.

Obviously, the two of you lost — in more ways than one. She came in third place and you?

Joint pain, sore throat, coughing fits, increasing temperature, sleeping anywhere she leans you against.

You got the flu. And a space one at that.

The journey back to the TARDIS is a slow, grumbling one.

Well, actually, the journey was slow and she was grumbling — but, you know, same difference. It’d usually take her half an hour to get there under ordinary circumstances. But you’re not ordinary (and the Doctor can’t decide if that thought was affectionate or just part of the grumbling. Probably both), so it actually takes two hours.

“Here you go,” she announces, opening the TARDIS doors for you with a smile that’s clinging on for dear life to ‘patient’ so it doesn’t fall on ‘ironic’. You never really like it when she gives you one of those. “Try not to trip on the steps, I’m looking forward to not having to carry you around.”

You give her a thumbs up. She’s pretty sure you haven’t listened to a single word that came out of her mouth.

It’s only when she sees you crouching under the console, hugging your legs to protect your eyes from the lights, that the Doctor allows herself to admit what she’s been feeling since you coughed the first time — she’s worried. Big time.

She sits down next to you, placing her hand on your forehead. Still warm.

“I’m fine,” you say, but with the way you pronounced your consonants, she knows you’re at least a station, two buses and a cab away from ‘fine’. “I just need to sleep a little. You can—” here she waits for you to stop coughing for a few long seconds, “— just leave me in my room, if you still want to go out there. Explore and stuff.”

Exploring and stuff would be a good name for an autobiography, if she ever decided to write one. The idea always drifts from her mind when she remembers it would probably be too big — never-ending — and full of forbidden knowledge. A younger version of her attempted to start — and of course, it had to be the most self-serving one of them all.

Yes, that one.

And maybe, if she still were that incarnation, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, your offer would’ve been tempting. He wouldn’t go through with it, but he’d stop for a second to wish he would.

But she’s so much older now. And she hopes she’s a lot wiser, too.

So, she gets up to her feet and pulls you up as well.

“Not a chance,” she finally replies. “Medbay. Go slowly, walking is good for your joints.”

You attempt a laugh, but the coughing doesn’t let you finish it. The important thing is: you’re walking to the medbay.

And that gives her time to fetch something she’s just remembered the TARDIS can help her with.

When the Doctor gets there, you’re staring at the ceiling. The TARDIS has kindly dimmed the white lights, but your attention has latched on a spiral of light reflecting on some kind of surface.

You’re looking at it like it’s your entire world, and that makes her a) think you’re the cutest being in the universe and b) also feel slightly jealous of a beam of light.

She gets your attention back by placing her hand on your brow again. You flutter your eyes closed. And you’re still way too warm.

She removes her hand and waits for your eyes to open. And when they do, she shows you the best-est thing her ship can make.

Medicine.

Not the twenty-first century kind — an actually effective one.

It looks like marshmallow candy, and the colours glow when it rolls back and forth on the Doctor’s palm. It tastes like cloud and honey, with just a hint of ibuprofen — nothing’s perfect — but it works!

You look from her palm, to her face, to her palm again.

She shakes the pill like she’s summoning a cat. “Go on. TARDIS made it for ya.”

“Did she?” you ask with a subtle smile.

The Doctor feels that tug of jealousy again and wrinkles her nose. “After I told her to.”

That makes you immediately take the pill from her hand. She’s decided to ignore — for now, anyway — the undercurrent of this subtle-almost-not-there jealousy taking hold of her and the fact that you trust her without batting an eye.

After you’ve swallowed it, you ask, “What does it do?”

“Cures every known type of every known flu in the known universe,” she replies, proudly. “Not approved on Earth, though. Can’t quite remember why.”

You simply nod, so she points to the bed, nicely tidied up for use in its place next to a drawer full of medical equipment, “Have a kip. It’ll make you feel heavy for a little while.”

You do as you’re told, familiar with the dance by now: the Doctor fusses over you in the console room. She gets you to the medbay. You get in the bed. She fusses some more. You’re free to go.

It’s a silent dance by now, one both of you already know by heart.

So while she’s connecting a few electrodes to your head, it comes as a surprise when you suddenly blurt out, sluggish and with a grin she can hear, “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She freezes. Then slowly, very slowly, turns to look at you.

You’re still grinning. Your pupils dilated and your gaze completely focused on her.

She moves closer to you to fix one of the looser pads — your eyes follow her.

She moves a few inches to the side — your eyes follow her.

She ducks as if she’s picking something from the floor — you look down.

“No, hold on,” you begin again, eyes still glued on her as she comes back up. “The most beautiful thing. Like, more beautiful than that planet where everyday is New Year’s Eve and there’s always a sunrise, remember?”

The Doctor nods.

“Yeah. More beautiful than anything in the known universe,” you finish, giggling.

The Doctor swallows.

Give her Daleks. Cybermen. Weeping Angels. An identity crisis. The bloody Master, if you will.

What on Earth — and she’s not even on Earth — does she do with this?

Could this be the flu? Yeah, but those symptoms aren't listed for regular space flu.

Could this be the medicine? Nah, but it should've knocked you out in a minute!

“Erm…” she winces, moving to turn on the monitor she meant to use to examine you. “Feeling that sleep kicking in?”

“And I love your voice, too,” you reply, ignoring her question. “Not just your voice — your accent. It’s so beautiful, I think it’s just as beautiful as you. The way you speak, it’s like—”

“See this?” she points to the screen, on and active, tracking your sinapses. “That’s your brain. I’m trying to make sure it’s working.”

Your mouth drops open. “Oh, and you’re so clever.”

The Doctor claps once, feigning excitement, as she steps closer to your bed. “How about this? How about… you tell me what you remember from the marathon? You know, the one we lost?”

“I couldn’t keep up with you,” you start replying, and she feels a surge of actual hope that she got you to change the subject.

She exhales, shaking her head. “Nope. Not doing this.”

She starts peeling the electrodes off your brow, convinced she’s making a clean exit before anything else slips out.

Except for a Time Lord, she’s surprisingly time-blind. Because the next thing you do is sigh, and say, in the softest voice she’s ever heard from you: “If you were human, I’d propose to you.”

She freezes once more, but this time she's sure one of her hearts has stopped working. Her hands stop mid-air, suddenly too cold to move.

She's not looking at you. She can't. And she's not thinking about it. Absolutely not.

“Not here, of course,” you say. “On our anniversary.”

Reluctantly, she looks down at you, focusing somewhere between your eyes, in the rib of your nose.

You beam at her. “I still keep track of it, the first day you kissed me. I've got a calendar in my room and it runs like a day on Earth, even if we leave for a few days. TARDIS keeps it running for me, I bet you haven’t even noticed!”

The Doctor blinks. A few times. She tries to think of something to say, but no words come.

Then, she notices her hands are still frozen in their place next to your brow, and recoils them like you zapped her.

She moves away to turn off the screen, feeling your gaze following her — and that's when it hits her.

“Oh!” she mutters under her breath. “Of course!”

“Kissiversary,” you say, giggling. “Our kissiversary, Doctor.”

“That's why it got banned on Earth,” she turns to you again, explaining it to you because she needs to explain it to someone who'll listen or she'll burst into flames.

And that could actually happen. She's just trying to be careful.

“The pill! It's slightly psychic, blurs thoughts and freezes memories — like a super-powered truth serum. When I was holding it I must've felt—”

Jealous.

Of a photon. And of the TARDIS.

But she's not saying that out loud.

“— whatever I felt,” she rushes to scramble back, “must've gotten imprinted on the pill. So when you took it, you absorbed that and you're now reacting to it. Saying everything you think about it. You're not even going to remember it in a few hours.”

She leans against the bed, avoiding your eyes, feeling particularly sorry for herself. “I'm sorry.”

When nothing comes, she chances a glance at you.

You're pouting, brows creased like you're about to coo.

And you nearly do. “Aww, baby. Are you sad?”

The Doctor throws out her arms, brows arched in disbelief. “Did none of that make any sense to you?”

You shake your head. “No. Half of the things you say don't. But I still love listening to you — I’m actually pretty sure I could listen to you for all eternity. And I don’t even know what that means,” you laugh. “You tell me.”

She tilts her head to the side, smiling what you call her trademark tight-lipped smile. At least that is something she can answer. “It means forever.”

It doesn't actually, and she could write an encyclopedia about all the differences between them, time wise.

But to you, it makes perfect sense. You grin, like she just shared a secret with you.

Then, you whisper back, “That’s what you look like.”

Something cracks inside her. She looks at you — at your eyes, and all the light they’re carrying even now — and her soul hurts.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling sadly. “Maybe just not the way you mean.”

Because yes, she does look like forever. Like a thing that goes on and on even after it should’ve stopped.

And maybe you’re right and she does look like Quantifer, where everyday is New Year’s Eve — a world not all here yet not quite there, where forever is both in constant flux and extremely predictable.

What its settlers understand as forever, right there on the edge of the universe, is a bit like her life.

What you understand as forever, is a New Year’s Eve.

Sometimes, she just wished she didn’t look like forever.

The Doctor notices you’ve gone quiet. Part of her hopes you’ve finally dozed off.

You haven’t. You’re just crying, trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

“Oh,” she mumbles, feeling slightly out of her depth. “What is it?”

“I just realised,” you say through tears, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. In my life.”

“Oh,” she replies.

Completely out of her depth.

“What would I do in a life where I can’t look at your eyes?” you ask, then crack a teary smile. “The prettiest eyes in the known universe.”

“Yeah, you can stop using that phrase now,” the Doctor blurts, because it’s the only thing she can think of. “Also, I’m not going anywhere.”

It breaks her hearts that you start sobbing again at this, but she can’t blame you. She’s said that before to so many people.

So, she decides to show you the only way she can right now: by pulling up a chair — one she’s quite sure wasn’t even here when she entered the room just a few minutes ago.

She’ll check with the TARDIS later.

Still, she drags it next to your bed and sits with a triumphant little smile. “See? Not going anywhere.”

You take in a shaky breath. After a beat, you mumble, “I can’t move my arms.”

Not the response she was hoping for, but at least that is something she can deal with.

“Oh. Right! That’s the pill working,” she says. “Soon you’ll be sleeping your flu away.”

“No, but I still have so much I want to say,” you whine softly, tears still running.

She gently brushes them away with her thumb. And, despite everything in her that says don’t, she asks, “Like what?”

“Like how I keep track of every single one of our firsts,” you smile.

“Uh, maybe skip that one, will ya?” she quickly interrupts.

“Like how I think you wouldn’t even like a ring. You’re not a ring person,” you continue, your words getting slower, your eyes almost closing — but still focused on her. Only on her.

She chuckles. “And why's that?”

“You never use anything on your fingers. I know, I look at them a lot.”

She lets out a nervous laugh, and you go on. “I’d give you an earring. One that matches that one you always use. And we could— oh, I think I’m blacking-out.”

“It’s okay,” the Doctor says, softly stroking your hair. “You have all the time you need to tell me the rest.”

“Like forever?” you ask, smiling softly.

She sighs, smiling back. “Yeah. Forever.”

And just as you close your eyes, you still manage to mutter, “I’ll take that as an ‘I do’.”

You’re now sleeping peacefully, breathing heavy, motionless — as expected.

Part of her is upset your rambling got interrupted by the medicine’s effect actually kicking in. What a great timing, that was!

Some other part of her is relieved she doesn’t have to face any of your unfiltered truths any time soon.

But another part of her… This one has just concluded forever can mean many different things. Today — however long that is — she wouldn’t mind being your forever.

And that gives her a new idea…

******************************************

You wake up feeling simultaneously renewed and extremely emotionally fatigued.

You shift your position, meaning to stretch, when you realise your head is leaning against something warm and hard.

A shoulder.

The Doctor’s shoulder.

You let your eyes wander around you and you come to realise you’re laying on a bed. The Doctor’s bed.

In the Doctor’s bedroom.

You make a questioning sound, involuntarily, which makes her turn to look at you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she chirps.

You chuckle, sitting up. “Morning to you too, I suppose.”

“I mean, it’s not actually morning. This planet has a five-hour day-cycle so it’s currently, erm…” she squints for a second. “Afternoon. Ish.”

You smile, fondly. You love it when she starts explaining the laws that govern strange worlds you’re not either going to remember nor visit again — and yet, it’s always wonderful to hear her explaining them to you.

But when you stop to pay attention to her eyes, they seem distant.

That can be normal, you remind yourself. It happens every now and then, you think it comes with being 2000-years-old.

But this time, it feels different. Like something is weighing heavily on her mind and she’s trying really hard to pretend it’s not.

So you try to think back to the last things that happened— and you realise you don’t even know how you ended up here.

“Doctor?”

She gives you her ‘yes?’ hum.

“Why are we here?”

She gives you her ‘it’s complicated’ hum.

“What is the last thing you remember?” she asks, sitting up as well.

“The race.”

“Marathon,” she corrects, pointing a finger at you.

“Same thing,” you shrug.

“Completely different things,” she shakes her head. “I could make a TED Talk on how different they actually are.”

“You could make a TED Talk on anything, Doctor,” you reply with a soft laugh, but then you notice… she’s stalling.

So you press. “And after the marathon?”

She scrunches up her face. “It’s been nearly three days on this planet, my memory’s wonky.”

You squint at her, so she sighs. “You got the flu. I gave you medicine. You feel asleep. You woke up. You asked ‘why are we here?’—”

“You can stop there, I think I remember the rest,” you laugh.

You really don’t recall getting sick. You do remember coughing sometimes by the end of the ra— marathon. You remember the Doctor being a sore loser for getting bronze.

Which makes you think…

“Oh!” you exclaim just as she’s getting up from the bed. “Are you upset about the bronze? Third place is great, too. You’re the Doctor, it’s not like you need a medal from some random planet to prove your worth.”

She throws you a puzzled look. “No. I’m not upset about that. Why would I be?”

“Well, you did seem upset back there,” you reply.

“That was three days ago,” she says, hands inside her pockets like she’s just casually chilling.

And yet… Something is wrong.

“What?” she asks, making you realise you’re staring.

You don’t stop.

You try to make a few connections: five-hour days. Three days. That would be…

“Hold on, how long have I been asleep for?”

“Erm… Hard to say, really,” she shrugs.

“You’re a Time Lord!” you exclaim.

“A little over twelve hours?” she replies.

It sounds more like a question than a statement, but it tracks.

“My God, what kind of medicine did you give me?”

“One that fixed you,” she shoots back, hands on her waist like she’s feeling indignant you’d even ask. “Do I hear any coughing? No? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Shall we?”

And with that, she’s inviting you out of her bedroom.

You laugh. She really does hate standing still.

Which makes you think—

“Oh!” you exclaim again (try living with an alien who says that 6,461,153 times a day and not picking it up). “Did you stay here with me for all twelve hours?”

She gives you a look you don’t understand. “Yeah.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry,” you say, frantic now as you climb out of bed and cross to where she’s standing by the door. “I didn’t mean— I mean, I don’t even remember falling asleep. But you didn’t have to stay. You could’ve gone off and done something else if you wanted.”

She wrinkles her nose, looking away.

You breathe out a frustrated something.

Sometimes you wish the TARDIS could translate emotions as well — because right now the Doctor is speaking a language you’ve given up on trying to understand.

“Okay… Let’s go somewhere nice?” you try. “To make it up.”

That brightens her up. “Yeah! Any ideas?”

“Anywhere you’d like!”

She presses her lips into a line, squinting, like she’s plotting something.

You love it when she gets that look.

“I was thinking… Quantifer?”

The planet — settlement, but you always get it wrong — where everyday is New Year’s Eve, and every single one of them is both unique and extremely beautiful.

The last time you visited, the Doctor was radiant. The most beautiful everything you’ve ever seen in your life.

So you grin. “Cool! But erm— Maybe I should shower first?”

“Yeah,” she nods, with a toothy grin. “You should.”

You burst out laughing. “Blimey, I’m ever so thankful for your unfiltered truths.”

So, you leave her room, focusing on having the quickest shower of your life to not keep her waiting for so long.

But before you walk further away, you notice she’s just… standing there. At the door. Looking pointedly ahead.

“Doctor, baby,” you say, softer this time. “What is it?”

She blinks a few times. Then throws you a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Nothing! Was just trying to… remember the coordinates. Got it now. I’ll go get us there. See ya!”

And she walks away.

You blink.

You glance up at the TARDIS ceiling, letting your hand trail along one of the walls. “You should really start working on that translator,” you whisper.

But you decide not to dwell on it. You’ve got a place to go.

******************************************

After that day, a few things change.

You don't notice it at first. It's only when it happens that you piece together the puzzle — much like a frog inside boiling water.

The first change comes with a Spring Cleaning.

It's not Spring, and there's barely any traditional cleaning, but the Doctor asks for your help so… Who are you to say no?

You start with the pool — and here the cleaning consists of the Doctor staring at the water, hands planted on her hips, for several minutes.

She suddenly announces it's clean enough and tells you to follow her.

And, so, you do.

The next room is the library. She remembers at the last minute it's literally infinite and ever-changing, and immediately closes the door after having just opened it.

So, you follow her to the next one.

Which, to no one's surprise, is the console room.

Under the console itself she keeps a small, wooden box, full of other boxes of varying sizes.

Bigger on the inside, of course. You begin to think accepting this plan of hers wasn't a very clever idea.

She sets aside some of the boxes and explains the plan:

“So, we have five categories: 1) Why is this here?, 2) Definitely throwing away, 3) Will decide later, 4) I need to actually clean this, 5) Definitely keeping it, 6) I don't know what to do with this.”

“That's six categories,” you say.

“You can start with that box on your right, I'll take this one,” she says, and immediately throws herself into organising her items.

She doesn’t give you any directives on how to go about deciding which item goes on which pile, so you just go with your instinct.

Agatha Christie’s book published in the year five billion? Why is this here (and not in the library)?

Red question-mark shaped handle? I don’t know what to do with this.

A single, surprisingly not withered, celery? Will decide later.

And despite having to erase five new categories the Doctor tries to invent for every item she picks up, the rest of the cleaning goes surprisingly peacefully.

Until you find a frame.

It’s the picture of a woman — beautiful curly hair, very loving eyes.

She’s stunning.

You feel a weird sort of tug as you hold it in your hands, like it's speaking to your heart. You stare at it for some time.

“Oh,” comes the Doctor’s voice from your side, seemingly surprised. “So that was there?”

You don’t look away from the frame. “Who is she?”

“Erm… My wife.”

You gasp, like someone just announced you won the space lottery. “You have a wife?!”

She erms again. “Used to, lots of years ago. I was a different man back then.”

She’s not looking at you as she says that, eyes fixed downwards, hands busy with her box of things.

And just like that, you think you understand what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you offer.

“... Yeah,” she replies.

But despite the sadness, your heart is beating wildly inside your chest. Because if she has been married before… could she be open to the idea of marrying again?

It’s selfish to wonder that now, you know that.

But the woman in the picture doesn’t seem the type to mind.

So you clean the frame, delicately and carefully, before setting it on a new pile.

When the Doctor notices, she huffs. “Oi! You didn’t let me create new categories!”

“Yeah, but mine makes sense,” you reply.

“And what is it?”

“Things you should stop hiding from,” you say, giving her a side eye look.

She doesn’t say another word for the rest of the cleaning.

Good for you, because your mind is already busy with a few — marriage related — plans…

******************************************

You’d thought about it, of course.

Several and several and several times. But there was always the interspecies barrier holding you back.

You thought Time Lords just didn’t get married. That maybe they didn’t even need relationships at all — not with the way the Doctor (never) talks about them.

Since that day, however… You’re dreaming up so many ways it could go.

Would she be surprised? Would she shut down? Would she say yes? Should you write down your proposal and send it to her when you’re not around? Should you kneel like everybody else?

But most importantly… What could you even propose with?

You’ve studied her for all this time you’ve been together and she just… doesn’t really like jewelry.

There’s her earring, granted, which she never takes off — not even to shower. But her current earring is perfect for her — not too flashy, not too large, easily hidden under her hair.

So you’ve been imagining: a ring for an earring. Something that matches the one she already has and that you could use as well.

But if you get it wrong… You don’t want to be alive for the casual grimace of discomfort she’d try to give you while pretending you’ve given her this galaxy’s eighth wonder.

It’s on one of those days where the Doctor is tinkering with some quantum something for the millionth time this month, and you’re wandering around the ship with your head literally in the clouds, that you nearly trip in the kitchen.

You’d only meant to fetch some tea for the both of you when a piece of paper skids across the floor — you slip on it, then smack right into the counter.

After apologising to it (you’re pretty sure the counter’s sentient too), you pick up the culprit.

It’s an advertisement for — and nothing could’ve prepared you for this — an intergalactic wedding ring designer.

And not just any ring designer — a non-humanoid one. Specialised in unconventional rings.

And there’s even a PS in all caps at the end: “bring a picture of your lover and I’ll help you find the perfect ring”.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself.

Too good to be true or not, you start to, very gently, convince the Doctor to get you to the hidden moon of Woozillers.

“Woozillers?! What for?” she asks, quite shocked, from under the console. The goggles don’t help much with the whole annoyed look she’s trying to give you, but you get the gist.

“Just seemed like a nice place, really. Somewhere I could explore on my own. I read there’s this big market, like Westfield?”

She only stares back at you. The goggles make you feel distressed.

After a beat, she exhales through her nose, getting up from her place under the console.

“First they’re all ‘it’s bigger on the inside!’. I blink for a second,” she pauses to remove the goggles, press a few buttons and pull a few switches, “and then they’re telling me which planet to go next! Can you believe that?”

You think she’s talking more to the TARDIS than to you.

You grimace. “Are we going there right now?”

The TARDIS makes a loud thump.

The Doctor shoots you a grin. “There already. Coincidentally we had been drifting near its galaxy.” Then, she hands you a rectangular shape. “Infinite money. Try not to get lost, her tracker’s not working cause someone interrupted me.”

You beam, feeling positively delighted.

You give her a quick hug and leave the ship in search of the place.

Infinite credit on your hand, flyer in your pocket, photo on your phone — there’s just no way you can miss it.

A few hours later, when you look at your arms full of alien bags with alien stuff you bought with your alien girlfriend’s alien money — and still no ring — you admit to yourself that you may have overestimated your geographical abilities.

Every time you see a blonde back head of one of the locals, your heart threatens to leave your ribcage, thinking you might have been caught red-handed. You don’t even remember the path you’ve made to get wherever it is you are right now, and you can’t — under any circumstances — call her to find you.

Just when you think you might start hyperventilating, a hand touches your shoulder.

You turn and see someone who looks like a cheetah. But walking. Their tail sways lazily behind them, and for a moment you’re thrown back to Earth, to your own cat, waiting impatiently by the food bowl.

But you recognise them from the advertisement: it’s the ring-maker.

“Looking for me?” they ask, voice low and resonant — it feels like they’re speaking directly into your mind.

You nod, dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

“Many people here do.” They gesture for you to follow, already turning to walk away.

You glance over your shoulder — just to make sure the Doctor’s not behind you.

And then, you follow the jeweller.

Nothing could’ve prepared for what their shop looks like. On the outside, it looks like a silver ring — like the ones you’d see back on Earth. On the inside, the walls curve on each other to create a staggering effect of colours and shapes.

“Dimensional engineering?” you ask, eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding in front of you.

“Mirrors,” they reply, matter-of-fact. You hear the scrape of a chair. When you glance over, they’re extending a paw toward it.

“How did you hear about my work?” they ask, slipping on a pair of glasses and resting their chin on their paws, studying you like an equation they’re halfway through solving.

“I got this flyer in my…” You pause. Ship? House? TARDIS? “...mail,” you settle on. “It said unconventional rings are your specialty.”

The jeweller smiles. It feels more like a laugh — like they already know something you don’t.

“Do you need an unconventional ring?”

Clearly, they haven’t met the Doctor.

“Show me her,” they say, extending a paw again.

You widen your eyes slightly, but pass them your phone anyway.

It’s a lovely picture, the one you’ve chosen. It’s from the same day you visited Quantifer a second time, and the Doctor had spent half an hour searching for a supposed perfect spot. In the end, you had to watch the balloons and fireworks from inside a pod the settlers use as a building, since she got both of you lost and just couldn’t admit it.

She was pouting, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the skies.

The fireworks reflected on the window, which reflected back on her. Her eyes looked like two flames — so intense, so warm.

You just had to take a picture.

“Hmmm,” the jeweller hums (and purrs?), holding your phone close to their eyes. “I see. Knowing eyes.”

“That’s her,” you laugh awkwardly.

“And what an old, old soul,” they add.

“She’s, uh… lived a lot.”

A few more minutes of staring, then they say, “Definitely not the jewelry kind.”

You nod, relieved that your intuition was right after all. “Definitely not. Actually, I was thinking—”

“Follow me,” they cut in.

And so, for the second time in a row, you follow them.

They take you to a room on the back of the shop. There are hundreds of shelves stacked upon each other, and inside them you manage to make out countless rings.

The jeweller opens a hidden door, behind a wall of shelves.

You clear your throat. “So like I said, I thought that maybe she'd want something like—”

They interrupt you again, extending you a paw — and resting on it, the most amazing ring you could've asked for.

It's a helix earring. Small, round and designed to clip on so it doesn't go through her skin. The painting is navy blue like her trousers and her favourite shirt. And outside, it's decorated with circular patterns.

Gallifreyan.

You gasp in surprise. “How can you— I can't even read that. The TARDIS doesn't translate it.”

“You don't need to be able to read it. This is an important word — for both of you,” they explain.

And maybe it's the way their voice hums inside your head, or how their eyes seem to know everything they need about you two.

Either way, you grin, teary-eyed. “It's so much more than I've ever dreamed of.”

The jeweller purrs softly.

Done deal.

The way back to the TARDIS is a lot smoother than you'd expected. You take a few turns and buy a few more somethings, and when you look down the road — there she is.

Outside the ship's door, you take a deep breath in. Then out. You make a point of hiding your happiness, you don't want to look suspicious. You just went on a shopping spree, nothing more.

You let out a puff of air.

And the TARDIS opens the door for you.

The Doctor is currently lying on the floor next to the console, goggles back on — and now protective gloves, too — trying to hold together two different wires.

When she sees you — and the very small amount of bags you’re carrying — they explode. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of smoke and you hope the burning smell is only oil and not her flesh.

(Yes, that’s happened before.)

“Whoa! Are you opening a shop of your own?” she asks, and you can faintly make her figure standing up behind the smoke.

“Ha ha ha,” you quip. “If I wanna go to a shopping centre I’m not coming back empty-handed, am I?”

She’s standing next to you now, goggles off, her eyes curiously wandering around your bags.

“Ooh!” she points to one of them. “I love that shop. They’ve got the best cheese in the galaxy.”

“Well, I hope so cause I bought some,” you laugh.

She beams excitedly, much like a child on Boxing Day, and you’re pretty sure she wants to reach for the bag.

Problem? The cheetah ring-maker’s bag is right behind that one.

You take a step back. Her eyes immediately snap back to yours.

You chuckle nervously. “You’re not eating my cheese without me,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll go settle these things and then we’re eating it. Together.”

She gives you a full scrunch — which means she didn’t like the sound of that — and bends to pick her goggles again.

“Wasn’t gonna eat it without you anyway,” she grumbles. “Want help?”

She asks that, but she’s already putting her gloves on. And you wouldn’t take it, either way — this is Mission Impossible and you’re Tom flipping Cruise.

“No, I’m good. See you in a bit.”

The Doctor just hums.

You sigh in relief and head to your bedroom.

Inside it, you close the door, lock it and — just in case — put a chair against the handle.

Sounds extreme, but the Doctor doesn’t understand the concept of personal space (as long as it’s not hers) and locked doors (which, let’s be honest, are mostly just something to point the sonic at). At least if she wants to come in, the chair will let you know.

Most of the stuff you bought are things you don’t actually need: new shirts, cute little gizmos you can’t even name, food.

A lot of food.

You set aside the clothes for washing, the bags with food for the kitchen, a new apron for her (the current one was the victim of last time’s explosion — and it shows) and, most importantly, the earrings.

One for you. One for her.

Even the box for hers is perfect — wooden, TARDIS blue, opens when you touch the top.

You touch it now to see it again, and you nearly cry out of joy.

You sit on the edge of your bed, the only place still empty, to admire it. You hope she’ll love it. You hope she’ll feel all the love you’ve poured onto thinking of it, dreaming of it and then finally finding it.

But right now, what you’d also really love… is to know the word the jeweller chose for you.

Your eyes fall on your calendar, neatly hidden behind your coat rack. One month until your anniversary.

One month for you to find out what this word means.

The smell of something burning — and now you’re one-hundred-percent sure it’s oil — takes you out of your musings.

You hide the box at the very back of the last drawer in your bedside table, tucked under layers and layers of clothes. If she were to sleep in your room as she often does — that is, lying next to you for a few hours with her eyes glued to the ceiling, or flipping through a book — at least she won’t find it.

You open the door and yell into the corridor, “Stop burning things or I won’t give you some of the cheese!”

The reply doesn’t take long. “Oi!”

You laugh.

How much you’d love this to be your forever.

******************************************

You’re in your bedroom again, but this time the Doctor’s with you.

Your head is lying against her chest, one of her hands softly stroking your head. Your legs are tangled, and the only word that can describe the feeling of her skin against your is… bliss.

You’re almost dozing off, but you’re trying so hard not to. You’d like to enjoy this for as long as you can — her warmth surrounding you, the path her hands traced still burning on your skin.

You adjust your head so you’re looking at her face.

She’s staring at the ceiling — nothing unusual there. But her eyes are slower, fixed. Usually, you can see her already thinking of where to go next for when you leave the next places — plural — she’d already thought of a few minutes ago.

Her brain never stops, and you love her for it.

But right now, she’s calm. Sometimes, you have that effect on her. It’s like she, too, is trying to stay here for as long as she can.

The Doctor must’ve felt your gaze locked on her — her eyes start slowly coming down, searching for you.

You hide your face in the crook of her neck, pretending you weren’t staring.

She chuckles. She noticed, obviously.

Her hand comes down to the back of your neck, right there where the roots of your hair meet your skin.

And she strokes it. Gently. Slowly.

You think you’ll transcend.

You sigh softly. “Mhm. I could stay here forever,” you whisper.

And that’s when it dawns on you.

Forever.

Isn’t that the word you’re always thinking about when you’re next to her?

“Oh, I got it!” you mutter under your breath, sitting up.

She makes a “huh?” sound behind you.

You don’t answer. Your eyes just search for your calendar behind the coat rack — one week left.

“What is it? What did you get?” she asks, moving behind you, fully engaging in concerned-Time-Lord mode.

You grin, genuinely, pulling her back down onto the bed. “Nothing. I was just thinking out loud. You do it all the time, you’re rubbing off on me.”

She squints at the coat rack, then back at you — but lies back down anyway.

A few seconds pass. She humphs.

You laugh. But you just happen to know exactly how to keep her distracted from your little slip-up:

Time for round two.

******************************************

It’s the day of your anniversary and you’re a nervous wreck.

You’ve checked your pocket hundreds of times. You know the box is there. You check again anyway.

You ask the Doctor to go to Qantifer again. You’re afraid she’ll complain that you’ve been there recently and there’s nothing new to see — but she doesn’t.

She’s also strangely quiet.

The moment the TARDIS lands, she stops most of her mumbling, muttering and humming.

You try to stir up a conversation and it actually works — she grins, talks about the settlers, takes you to the so-sought-after perfect spot from last time: a bridge, where you can see the entire planet if you tiptoe.

But she’s quiet.

And you feel like you’ll die if you don’t start speaking any time soon.

“So—” you start—

— but at the same time she begins: “What do you—”

“Sorry,” you say in unison.

You laugh — or better yet, she laughs and you show her your teeth (you’re in no mood for laughing right now).

“You go,” she offers.

You open your mouth.

You close it.

Your hand presses against the box in your pocket.

No word comes.

You swallow, breaking eye contact, your eyes falling on the crowd below, gathering together, anxiously waiting for the fireworks as a few balloons dance freely in the sky.

You chuckle.

“It’s like they’re all watching it for the first time,” you blurt out.

She hums questioningly.

“The display,” you explain. “Doesn’t this happen everyday for them?”

The Doctor looks down to see what you mean.

She nods. “Oh yeah. Everyday. It’s the edge of the universe, everything’s in flux here.”

“Not for them, it isn’t,” you reply — and you really don’t know what point you’re trying to make, you want to shut up, but now she’s looking at you with those glowing eyes which means she’s interested, which means you can’t just stop now, can you? — “I mean, everyday is New Year’s Eve. I love the concept and the aesthetics, don’t get me wrong. But like, how does life even work?”

She purses her lips into a straight line, like she finds it amusing.

“A world not all here, not quite there, where everything changes but still stays the same,” she mutters. “Except this is the only life they know. You’re judging things based on the only life you know. To them,” she looks at the crowd again, smiling brightly, “this is a today forever worth living for. Even if they know how it ends. Especially because they do.”

Tears well up on your eyes and you fight to keep them at bay — this is it. That’s your cue.

Just then, the countdown starts — ten minutes to.

You sniff. “Yeah, that actually makes sense.”

Then you clear your throat. “About that—” you stop, laugh nervously, rubbing your eyes, “not the settlers. Forever, I mean.”

You curse yourself under your breath. “No, I wasn’t supposed to start like this. I—”

You clear your throat again. You can feel your hands shaking.

You look at the timer — nine minutes and a half.

“Okay,” you begin again. “I’ve been thinking— always thought to be honest— no, not always, that sounds weird. Although things with you never really happen in a straight line, so…” you chuckle, “Maybe it was from the beginning, who knows?”

Eight minutes and a half.

“But, uh, you know humans. And you know how we do things. And I understand if they don’t make any sense to you — sometimes you don’t make any sense to me, either.”

You grimace. What a way to go in your actual proposal.

“What I’m trying to say is: I’ve been thinking of a way. To say this. It. What I want to say. In a way that you—”

You stop to glance at the Doctor.

Her eyebrows are slightly raised. She’s nodding. Lips pressed together.

You know that face. You just can’t remember what it means.

You glance at the clock. Six minutes.

“—that you—” Under any normal circumstance, she’d probably be plotting her escape route.

Where have you seen that face before?

It hits like a flash: when someone’s explaining something to her, but she already knows exactly how it works and is just trying not to show it.

“—you—”

She’s still nodding. Same exact expression.

Why would she be making that face at you?

Then it crashes into you like one of the fireworks just exploded inside your skull.

The Spring Cleaning. The picture of her wife.

The flyer lying on the kitchen floor.

The coincidence of orbiting the moon of Woozillers.

“—you bastard!” you finally finish the sentence.

The Doctor tilts her head, alarmed. “What?!”

“You complete and utter bastard! You know very well what I’m talking about— you knew! You knew!” you shout, pacing now, somewhere between betrayal and sheer mortification. “How long have you known?!”

She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, looking affronted. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“You let me go through all that— Ugh, I just— Am I really that predictable?”

“No, no, no” she shakes her hand in front of you, grimacing. “I wasn’t expecting it, actually. Honest.”

“Then how?!” you ask — no, demand.

She wrinkles her nose.

You jab your index finger in her face. “Not taking that today. How. Did. You. Know?”

“I was trying to keep you healthy,” she replies, defensively. “And I think I got it right, haven’t seen you sick since!”

You frown.

“Marathon day?” she offers, tentative, like she’s hoping you won’t remember.

“What’s that got to do with this?”

“The pill’s side effects were… a bit unexpected,” she says.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “You mean— You mean I…?”

She tilts her head side to side. “Sort of?”

“So you already know everything I was going to say?”

“Sort of,” she repeats.

With a smile. One she’s trying to hide.

You let out a shaky breath, burying your face in your hands. And it’s then that you realise:

You’re the frog in boiling water. This is you being scalded.

And God, what a gorgeous scalding it is.

She erms. “I’m… sorry?” she offers, more question than apology. “I just thought — you weren’t yourself when it happened. I wanted you to get to do it properly. How else was I supposed to help?”

You laugh. Incredulous, fond, and incredibly annoyed.

“No, it’s fine. You already know what I was going to say. You already knew what I’d been planning—”

You turn, not because you’re mad. Just to fetch something.

A small box, waiting patiently in your pocket.

Behind you, she calls your name, somewhat worried.

But you’re on a roll now. “—but I bet you haven’t seen this coming!”

And then, you show it.

The wooden box fits neatly in your palm as you extend it to her.

You make sure the Doctor is looking at it, then you touch the top. It opens and inside it — there’s the earring.

Made for her, exclusively. Poured with so much love.

You’re nervous, of course. The hand holding the box is shaking.

But she doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes are glued to the earring, mouth slightly open, frozen in her spot.

You managed to render her speechless. You certainly hadn’t seen that coming.

You're grinning so much it hurts. Her hands clench and unclench, like she wants to move but just… can't.

Her eyes briefly cross yours, before falling back on the box. You swear you've never seen her this… moved.

When she finally makes a move, slowly reaching for the earring…

The fireworks begin. New Year's Eve ends — and a new New Year's Eve begins.

But the two of you barely notice the spectacle. You're watching her every move, tears pooling at your eyes — and hers, if you're seeing it right — when she picks it up and studies it.

And studies it. And studies it.

Then, her face breaks in the brightest, most beautiful smile you've ever seen.

She's not just happy, though. It's a mix of surprise, curiosity, that childlike happiness you're so used to, and love.

Oh, you feel so much love.

You're laughing and crying now, both contradictions peacefully coexisting as her eyes flick back to the earring.

The Doctor taps her feet a few times, you know she’s trying to contain herself.

Then she looks at you. “Do you know what this means?”

And with the way her smile glows brighter than the fireworks above, you know this would be your epiphany if you hadn’t already had it.

Her earlier words come to mind, and you nod. “It’s a New Year’s Eve. One I wanna see the end. Do you?”

Her grin widens as she clips the earring to her ear. “I have so many questions!” she nearly squeaks. “Have you got yours too?”

You do. It’s in your other pocket — you didn’t want to risk giving her the wrong one. You slip it on, same ear as hers, and your heartbeat is hanging on by a thread.

You’re matching.

You’re the one proposing and you’re trying not to break down.

She bites her bottom lip, eyes locked on your ear.

You try a joke — one so very her — hoping to stay above water.

“How do I look?” you ask, turning your head like you’re posing.

She mouths an “oh,” smiling like she’s sharing a secret. “Like forever.”

And there it is: her I do.

You close your eyes, releasing the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

It’s real. After all the planning and overthinking, she said yes.

And when her hands cup your face, when her lips find yours, you know:

What a beautiful forever today is going to be

[ultimatelytired]

Lullaby pt. 2

word count: 10,231

Fandom: Poppy Playtime Pairing: N/A Pronouns: She/Her Relationship: Familial Occupation: Caretaker Ability: Ballerina Music Box

The character takes the appearance of a beautifully crafted music box ballerina figurine made of the toughest porcelain and glass, their clothes made from real fabric that is soft to touch and hair so smooth and silky you'd mistake it for real hair. Attached to their back is a wind up key that continuously spins when they're active and stops when they switch off. If the key is removed they cease to operate until key is returned and they are wound up again. Before CatNap, the character was the one to put the children to sleep with their built-in music box that would constantly be updated with new songs to play to help ease the children to sleep.

Keys:

[F/N]: Female Name

Warnings: the hour of joy, blood, death, all that shit.

"Lullaby" pt. 1, pt.3

finally started using grammarly properly and started cleaning up my shit, i'm kind of happy about the outcome, though grammarly does tend to repeat a couple words.

I originally wanted to make this longer but I'll put in what I want in the next part.

that is all.

It was just like any other day.

Wake up.

Do a headcount during breakfast.

Guide the children to school.

Clean up around Home Sweet Home.

Entertain the Smiling Critters.

Play with the children after their lessons.

And so on and so forth. But a problem arose when she was in the middle of cleaning up Home Sweet Home. It was late at night, and the staff had missed a few things during their shift. Rather than wait for the morning crew, she decided to take care of it herself. Usually, a few lingering night guard employees would patrol Home Sweet Home while she "slept," taking over her job of monitoring the Playcare. But tonight, she was struggling to find them—or at least the one in charge.

"Where the hell is the night guard...?" she muttered to herself, standing on the second floor and looking over the railing to try and spot the man. A quiet breath left her lips when she still couldn't find him. She sighed, frustrated, her nails tapping against the oak beneath her fingers. Forget it—she'd find him later.

She moved on to the third level of Home Sweet Home, where the Smiling Critters resided. Peeking into their rooms, she nodded softly when she saw them all sound asleep. But when she opened CatNap's door—

"H-Help me..." Her eyes widened at the sight of one of the morning staff lying in a pool of their own blood, deep scratch marks gouged along their arms and face. Huh—no wonder she hadn’t seen them earlier that afternoon. Slowly, she lifted her eyes and found CatNap staring at her, shock clear in his gaze. He hadn’t expected her. Some of the red smoke escaped his mouth, though they both knew it didn’t work on her.

"P-Please save me..." the injured woman pleaded, grabbing Ballade's leg and trying to pull herself up. Ballade froze, her mind racing. Why did she have to walk in at this moment? Why now? This woman had been pestering CatNap all day to "open up," insisting she was "there for him." He’d ignored her until she cornered him in his room, and clearly, things had escalated.

What was Ballade going to do? Report this to the higher-ups? Send CatNap to the doctor to fix his violent outburst? Was she scared of him? There was nothing he could do to stop her. Despite being made before the Smiling Critters, Ballade’s model had been designed to handle toys the humans couldn’t control. He took a step back when he saw her glance down at the woman, her hand reaching out. He expected her to help her up—but instead, her hand crushed the woman’s head in one swift motion.

Ballade waited for the twitching to stop before she removed her hand, looking back up at CatNap. She smiled softly. Before she could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the room. She pressed a finger to her lips and gestured for him to stay quiet. Lifting the woman’s body by the neck, she stepped out and shut the door just as the night guard appeared.

"Ah, there you are, Balla—" He stopped, eyes widening at the sight of the dead body. "Why on earth do you have a corpse?" She shrugged.

"I thought she was an intruder and dealt with her the way the Head Executives told me to." He stared for a moment, then shrugged.

"Whatever, as long as you don't do that to me."

"You have a reason to be here overnight. She did not. I didn’t expect anyone but the nightguards to be here—and I know you wouldn’t sneak around like a rodent." She smiled sweetly as the woman’s bones cracked under her grip.

"R-Right... So, uh, what are you going to do with her body?"

"Feed her to Boxy. If the children ask why she’s missing, I’ll just say she’s sick and needs time to recover. Mister Pierre prefers it when I kill the staff—saves him money on wages."

"Sounds like him." The guard nodded. "Need any help?"

"I’ll manage. I’ll be back once the body’s disposed of." With a polite bow of her head, she turned away. Noticing the guard linger near CatNap's door, she held her breath—but he simply shook his head and walked off in the opposite direction. "Perhaps I should thank CatNap. Now I get to see Boxy Boo~ It’s been a while." Tossing the corpse over her shoulder, she made her way down to the prison. The night shift employees didn’t blink an eye when she passed with a body in tow. They knew the drill.

The moment Boxy's cell opened, his eyes peeked through the crack—and then the lid burst open. His tongue lolled out at the sight of fresh meat. She caressed his head gently before tossing the body onto the floor. As he ate, she sat beside him, talking about anything that came to mind. Boxy couldn’t speak, but she knew he was listening—and understanding.

It was hard to leave him, especially when he whined softly for her to stay. But she had other matters to attend to.

"Oh, kitty cat~" she cooed softly as she entered CatNap's room, now dressed in fresh clothes. She had taken longer than expected—mopping up blood was a tedious task. But she was back, and she found him sitting nervously on his bed. "You must be curious about what just happened, hmm?" She didn’t sit beside him, mindful of his nerves. Instead, she knelt before him, waiting patiently.

"... You killed her," he said quietly.

"I did."

"The human guard was fine with it..."

"He was."

"... Have you killed before?"

"Many times." She looked down at her porcelain hands, imagining the blood that had stained them so often. "I am Playcare's security for a reason. So long as I don't step out of line, I can deal with these humans however I like—and they won’t bat an eye. Mister Pierre prefers it. Saves him money and resources." Her voice softened as her hands began to tremble. "But I hate the human employees. They know what we are, what was done to us—and still, they smile while they lead children to their deaths. So yes, when I kill them—when they beg and plead—I enjoy it."

The sadistic glint in her eyes startled CatNap. But then her expression crumbled.

"But then I remember those children. I smile with them, sing with them, play with them—and I lie to them. I give them hope that they’ll leave this hell, knowing they never will. And that makes me just like those adults. I let those kids slip through my fingers." She clenched her shaking hands. "I hate myself for it."

"I don’t think you’re like them," he whispered. "You try to keep us safe. You let me go when I tried to escape." She blinked, startled that he remembered.

"And I am grateful to 1006 for saving your life. But that still isn't enough. I just want them to be free, even if it means I have to stay down here to repent for what I have done." She looked up when CatNap's paws grabbed her hands.

"The Prototype will save us." She blinked in confusion.

"T-The Prototype? But how? Ever since you two tried to escape, he's been put in a high-security cell that only the Head Executives and the Doctor can access. I'm allowed to roam the prison however I like, but even I'm not allowed near it. I-It's impossible." She shivered slightly when he gave a low chuckle.

"He will give us salvation. With him, we will know true freedom." He noticed the way her face broke, even if it was just for a second; he saw the way his words were getting to her. "If we side with the Prototype, he will free us from this prison." Her gaze stayed on him before it drifted to the side.

"I don't care if I have to stay down here, I just want those kids to be free." She licked her lips as she looked at him. "If I help... will he promise to set them free?" He grinned.

"The Prototype will set us all free." She wavered, swallowing thickly as she took her hands back.

"I need to think about this, Theo. If something goes wrong--" He shook his head.

"Nothing will go wrong." She sighed.

"We don't know that. I haven't agreed nor have I declined the thought of siding with the Prototype, but I just need to think about this. If I do agree... I'll come find you, but it'll take me some time." He nodded his head.

"There's no need to rush, [F/N]."

"Thank you, Theo." She smiled, albeit weakly, and hugged him. "I really needed this."

"... If you ever need to talk, I'll be here." She hummed softly.

"You're probably the only one who would understand, but I don't want to burden you with my thoughts." He shook his head.

"It's the least I can do with all the stress you have to carry."

"Hah, then I appreciate it." She scratched under his chin and nuzzled her cheek against his. "I won't say a word about our conversation to anyone, but tell me if anyone else bothers you. I will personally take care of it. Or if you kill anyone, tell me and I'll clean it up. You're not technically allowed to kill anyone, so we'll both get in trouble if that occurs." He let out his own laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind." CatNap perked up when he felt her movements start to lag, so he looked at the wind-up key and saw that it was beginning to slow. Noticing this, he gently nudged her stomach. "You should go back to your stage; you're beginning to slow down."

"Oh, I didn't even notice." She started pushing herself up but struggled a little. She let out a noise when CatNap stood up and let her lean on his body. "Thank you."

"Allow me to help you down..." She hummed softly.

"I appreciate the help." The nightguards didn't question CatNap helping Ballade down the stairs and onto her stage, where he waited for her key to stop turning to finally leave her alone. They all knew that CatNap was her favorite out of all the Smiling Critters and figured if they couldn't find her in her usual spots, she'd be with that colossal cat.

And so the days went on as if nothing happened in the first place. A few of the children did notice that the woman was missing but eventually forgot about it when Ballade said she was at home resting after catching a cold. The Smiling Critters did notice that Ballade and CatNap seemed a lot closer than usual; they also knew that CatNap was her favorite, but whatever occurred that night seemed to have strengthened their bond. Speaking of which, they needed Ballade for something and found both her and CatNap on her stage with a couple of other children drawing.

"What a wonderful blend of colors, sweetheart. Crafty Corn has taught you well during her arts and crafts lessons." Ballade praised as she looked over their art piece, quite impressed by their skill. "You will make a fine artist someday, child." She teasingly pinched their nose and giggled softly when they squealed.

"Stop that!" She held her hands up in surrender before leaning back into CatNap once more, her hand absentmindedly patting his head while her music box played songs that helped him sleep. Her other hand was drawing circles in the air before she finally noticed DogDay, Bobby, and Bubba, where she perked up and waved her hand to greet them. "Good afternoon, children! Care to join us?" She cocked a brow when she saw the three of them look nervous.

"Um, you're not particularly busy, are you?" She looked at the children that were sprawled all over her stage while CatNap nestled close into her back before looking back up at them.

"...Not really, no. Why?" Their reason was so ridiculous it woke CatNap up; even the children were staring in confusion. That's where she found herself staring down at Kickin and Hoppy, who had somehow gotten themselves stuck in the children's playground. "And you did this because you wanted to prove you could fit through the hole?" At least Hoppy had the decency to look shameless; Kickin just huffed as he hung by his waist from out of the hole he was stuck in.

"...Yes." She shook her head.

"You do know that this is a playground built for tiny children, correct?" She chuckled softly when Hoppy covered her face with her ears. "Have anything to say for yourselves?"

"...Help us?"

"No!" She slapped a hand onto her forehead and let out a sigh while the crowd of children laughed when Hoppy and Kickin apologized, which was what she really wanted. The next hour was spent with Ballade trying to get them out without damaging the playground or hurting the two, but both were difficult. The two of them had wedged themselves pretty tight, and she couldn't pull them out without tearing their stitching. She practically had to tear the holes they were in wide enough for them to slip out, but due to this, it destroyed the part of the playground they got themselves stuck in. She then spent the next half hour explaining to a few of the employees what happened while Hoppy and Kickin were on their knees with their arms above their heads as a form of punishment.

"You guys did this to yourselves," Bubba said, Picky and Crafty nodding their heads from behind the elephant.

"We're sorry..." Hoppy and Kickin sighed, DogDay snickering softly.

"The children had a good laugh out of it," Bobby said, pursing her lips as she scratched her cheek.

"Sure, but now they have to close the playground so they can fix what Miss Ballade broke to get them out." They looked back over at her and saw how she pinched the bridge of her nose at what the employee told her, then apologized and consoled the children when they learned they couldn't play on the playground. "Way to go, you two."

"Let's hope Miss Ballade doesn't get in trouble. They don't like it when we break any of the property," Crafty said.

"Perhaps since it was her, she won't get into a lot of trouble."

"Still, I can't help but worry." Hoppy and Kickin felt even worse; because of their competitiveness, they were getting Ballade in trouble. True to her suspicion, Leith reprimanded Ballade for not keeping an eye on the two and for not thinking of any alternatives to prying them free. CatNap was the one to slink over to her side to comfort her but flinched upon noticing that behind her smile-painted face was the look of rage burning in her eyes. Her hand closed into a tight fist, her entire frame trembling with suppressed anger as she watched Leith with Stella and a few other employees walk away. Her eyes snapped over to CatNap when she felt him press himself against her side, his presence the only thing keeping her from lashing out. She took a slow breath, forcing her muscles to relax, but her voice, when she spoke, was tight and low.

"Thank you..." she spoke softly, his ears perked up at her words. "You're really the only person that can calm me down..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, soft enough that only he could hear. The way CatNap lit up had the children thinking that Ballade was going to reward him with something. A broken, rumbling purr rippled from his throat as he rubbed affectionately against her side. She responded by kneeling down, her painted smile still in place, and nuzzled her cheek gently against his fur. The warmth of the gesture seemed so natural, so familiar, that the children watching giggled at the display.

But then her eyes shifted, softening as they landed on Hoppy and Kickin. Their ears drooped, and their expressions were heavy with guilt. Without hesitation, she approached them. They jumped in surprise when her hands landed softly on their heads, then cupped the back of them to pull them into a warm embrace. She felt the way they trembled in her hold, their little bodies overcome with remorse.

"W-We're sorry for getting you in trouble, Miss Ballade..."

"We promise we won't d-do it again..." they whimpered softly, their voices shaking. She shook her head, her grip on them gentle but firm.

"It's fine, it's better if I get in trouble than you lot. They would be far harsher on you than they ever would be with me." The thought chilled her, though she kept her tone calm and comforting. We’re lucky all I got was a talking to and nothing else, she thought bitterly. Pulling back just enough to meet their eyes, she offered a soft, reassuring smile. "As long as you learn from this, all is fine." she sweat dropped when they started crying so she continued to hold them until they eventually calmed down.

The next day, determined to make things right, Hoppy and Kickin approached the playground supervisor and took full responsibility for the damage. They also worked together to organize an impromptu arts and crafts day with Crafty Corn’s help, keeping the children entertained while the playground was being repaired. They even helped with the cleanup and offered to assist in the minor repairs they could manage without making things worse. Ballade couldn't help but be impressed by their initiative to take responsibility—perhaps the two of them were finally learning—until she noticed them bickering again, each claiming the idea had been theirs. She cleared her throat pointedly, and with one sharp look, the two fell silent.

Despite their antics, the effort they put in didn’t go unnoticed. By the end of the week, the playground was on its way to being fixed, and the children had enjoyed a day filled with laughter and creativity. Even Stella, seeing their hard work, made a point to praise them for stepping up. Later, as the day came to an end, Ballade found herself once again sitting with CatNap on her stage, watching the children show off their colorful creations. She let out a soft sigh, her hand absentmindedly stroking behind his ears.

“Maybe they’ll grow out of it one day,” she mused. CatNap chuckled, his purring a gentle vibration against her side.

“Maybe. But where would the fun be in that?” Ballade smiled despite herself, the warmth of the moment washing away the week’s troubles. For now, at least, there was peace—and perhaps just a little bit of hope.

Until—

"We're a head short..." Ballade murmured to herself as she counted the children that exited the school, she grew nervous when she counted again and again but she still ended up short one child. "Even one of the Miss Delight teachers is missing. Where could they have gone?" One of the Miss Delight teachers approached Ballade after hearing her question.

"Miss Ballade, thank goodness I've found you." She raised a brow.

"What is it?" She looked down at the teacher and watched her pace.

"The employees came earlier today and pulled one of the children aside." Ballade's face turned cold at what she said. "We know we're not supposed to interfere when they take the children, but they weren't following the correct procedure, so one of my sisters is stalling them." Miss Delight flinched when she saw the dark look on Ballade's face, her voice dropping.

"Where are they?" she asked, her tone sharp and dangerous.

"If she's stopped them, they should be close to the back."

She nodded once and turned, her pace brisk and her mind already racing through every possible scenario. Her breath quickened as she navigated the halls, thoughts swirling in a dangerous storm. If they were taking a child now, in broad daylight, it was far outside protocol. They were only supposed to remove the children at lights out—when it was easier to explain away their absence by saying they had fallen ill overnight. If they were breaking that rule, it meant that the scientists were eager to experiment on a child instead of having the lucky "chosen child" that was lucky to be adopted.

"Please, don't take Sarah away!" Miss Delight's desperate plea echoed through the corridor, trembling with fear and determination. Ballade’s sharp eyes immediately locked onto the two employees holding the child—Sarah—between them, their grips too firm and their faces too tense. Sarah’s frightened whimpers tugged at something primal inside Ballade. When one of the employees pushed Miss Delight back, Ballade’s vision flashed with fury. Her smile, painted and eternal, hid the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

"Unhand that child." Ballade’s voice was calm—too calm—but the weight of it filled the air like a thunderclap. Every head turned toward her, and the employees visibly stiffened under her gaze.

"Miss Ballade, this is none of your concern—"

"It becomes my concern when my children are frightened," she cut in coldly. She advanced slowly, every step measured, her eyes never leaving theirs. "And it becomes my problem when protocols are ignored." She stopped mere feet from them, her towering presence suffocating in its intensity. "So I will only say this once more: unhand the child. Now." they were quick to heed her words and they let Sarah go, who cried weakly and fell into Miss Delight's embrace.

"I-I was so scared...!" she sobbed softly, Ballade waved her hand and gestured for Miss Delight to take the child and leave.

"I'll handle this, go join the rest of the children and your sisters." she bowed her head, thanking the figurine profusely as she rushed away with the child in hand. When they were both out of sight and she knew they were alone, her fist connected with the wall beside their head and they both jumped in fright when it made a hole. The sharp crack of breaking plaster echoed through the corridor, and dust rained down around them.

"What do you think you were doing, hmm?" she asked, her friendly persona disappearing as she glared down at the two humans, who trembled under her terrifying gaze. Her eyes, usually warm and expressive, had turned cold and razor-sharp, her smile a painted mockery of calm.

"W-We... We were just fo-- following orders." they answered, their voices shaking.

"Oh? Then why didn't you follow the proper procedure?" Ballade’s voice was low and dangerous, like a blade sliding from its sheath. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, and they instinctively backed away. "If you are to take a child, I am to be informed so I don't act the way I am acting right now." The venom in her tone made their knees buckle. "Even so, why aren't you following the correct protocol?"

She advanced again, her presence suffocating and overwhelming. "When you are to take a child in broad daylight, especially when there are other children to witness your actions, you must do it in a way that doesn't cause the child to stress and raise alarms. And yet here you are—manhandling her like some kind of thief." Her voice dropped to a whisper, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "Are you thieves? Are you looking to steal from me? Because I will not tolerate anyone who threatens my children." One of the employees tried to stammer out an excuse, but Ballade slammed her hand against the wall again, cutting them off. The impact left another crack in the plaster, and both humans flinched violently.

"Give me one good reason," she hissed, her eyes burning with fury, "why I shouldn't report you to the Head Executives myself. Or perhaps..." She tilted her head, her smile twisting into something darker. "Perhaps I should take this up with the Doctor. I'm sure he'd love to use you in a few of his experiments." They paled at the mention of the Doctor, their fear now nearly tangible.

"Please... it was a mistake! We—we won't do it again!" one of them whimpered.

"You’re right about that," Ballade snapped. "Because if you ever step out of line again, I promise you—there won’t be enough left of you for anyone to find. Now get out of my sight."

She closed her eyes, taking a slow breath to calm herself before ripping her hands free from the wall, flexing her fingers to shake off the debris. She was confused—why wasn't she informed that they were taking one of the children that day? Why did they show up at the school to remove little Sarah? The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. Something wasn’t right.

Did she do the right thing stepping in the way she did? The answer was clear in her heart—yes. But the weight of what she’d just done pressed heavily on her mind. She figured they were going to inform the higher-ups about her interference, and she knew there would be consequences. But was she really at fault? Was protecting the children wrong? Haa, she was going to get into so much trouble.

Her fingers twitched with leftover adrenaline as she turned to leave, but then she remembered the holes she had made. Her eyes darted around the corridor, scanning for any witnesses. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she grabbed the nearby lockers and, with little to no effort, shifted them just enough to conceal the damage.

Perfect.

She stepped back, brushing dust from her hands and examining her work with a critical eye. No one would know—at least for now.

"Miss Ballade!" her head perked up when she saw DogDay rushing up to her, his ears flopping with every hurried step. His face was a mix of worry and confusion "I heard what happened from Miss Delight! Are you alright?" She waved her hand to dismiss his concern, the painted smile on her face still intact, but her eyes betrayed her unease.

"I am fine, nothing to fret about," she answered calmly, her hand gently patting his shoulder in reassurance. "But I am concerned. Why would they break protocol? The scientists are usually very thorough on how they... take the children. They are never ones to send the employees—never in broad daylight, and never without informing me." Her voice softened, but the tension in it was unmistakable.

"Why would they do that?" she sighed.

"I haven't a clue." She jumped when she heard a cry, so she looked over DogDay and saw little Sarah clinging to Miss Delight's dress, the woman doing her best to comfort the child. Miss Delight's usual calm demeanor was visibly shaken, her hands smoothing over Sarah's hair in a desperate attempt to ease her fear.

"I-I was so scared, Miss Delight! I didn't do anything wrong!" The Smiling Critters, who had heard the commotion, huddled around the little girl, their soft voices trying to soothe her with gentle reassurances. Bobby reached out to pat her shoulder, and Crafty offered one of her handmade paper flowers, but nothing seemed to ease Sarah’s sobs. The moment Ballade approached, Sarah’s wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto her, and without hesitation, the little girl rushed over and threw her arms around Ballade's legs tightly. "I swear I didn't do anything wrong, Miss Ballade!" The heartbreak in Sarah's voice made Ballade’s chest tighten, her smile unable to mask the surge of emotion welling up inside her. She knelt down slowly, gently holding the trembling girl by her arms, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sarah's damp cheek.

"I'm sure you did nothing wrong, little one. But fear not—your friend Miss Ballade Ballerina thwarted their efforts! They won’t be coming to scare you, not anymore." Her voice softened with a warm, protective lilt, but inside, she felt a cold fury still simmering from the encounter. She gasped softly when Sarah threw her arms around her neck, her tiny frame shaking with sobs. Ballade sighed, the sound soft and heavy as her own arms wrapped securely around the child, one hand cradling the back of Sarah’s head as she whispered gentle reassurances. "I'll make sure of it," she promised, her voice low and fierce with quiet determination. She knew those words meant more than Sarah could ever understand.

"T-Thank you, Miss Ballade. I'm glad I can trust you." The girl’s words were muffled against her shoulder, but they struck Ballade harder than any blow. Her breath caught as she felt Sarah nuzzle closer into her embrace, seeking safety and comfort. The weight of guilt settled deeper into Ballade’s mind, cold and unshakable.

She really shouldn't place her trust in her.

CatNap noticed Ballade becoming more distant from herself after the incident with the child as bedtime approached. No one else seemed to pick up on the subtle changes — the way her painted smile looked just a bit more strained, how her eyes wavered every time she looked at the children. The mask she always wore, the one that kept her true emotions hidden, was slipping. She lingered longer when the children hugged her, held them a little tighter, as if trying to memorize the warmth of their small arms around her. Their laughter, their trust — it weighed heavily on her shoulders. They told her how much they loved spending time with her, and each word chipped away at her carefully constructed facade. It had always been easy to fake happiness for their sake, to protect their ignorant bliss… but with each passing day, it became so much harder to keep up the act.

It was during bedtime, after they put the children to sleep and she was walking CatNap back to his room, when he finally understood why.

"I'll do it." his head perked up when she spoke, her face void of any emotion.

"... do what?" her eyes hardened, whether it be at him or herself, he couldn't really tell.

"Whatever you and 1006 need, I'll do it." Ballade's shoulders slumped as her eyes fixated on a picture frame of the children laughing and smiling, not a single bad thought behind their innocent eyes. She stared at it, the image feeling so distant— like something she could never quite reach. She wondered what it would feel like to truly hold them, to feel their warmth, the softness of their little hands when they reached out for her. But she never would. The sensation of touch was something foreign, a mystery she'd never get to experience again in this body. Every embrace she gave them was empty for her, a performance of comfort she could never fully share.

"I can't do it anymore." Her voice broke, trembling with the weight of her words. "It pains me every time I watch those children cry and ask me what they did wrong to be taken away, how they trust me with every inch of their small bodies and I trample all over it just by simply existing." She wanted so badly to feel the way they held onto her, to know the security they believed she gave them. But all she ever felt was the aching hollowness where that connection should have been.

"I hate going to the prison and hearing their anguished cries to be let out, to go home, to be free." Her hands shook at her sides, the phantom feeling of their terrified clinging playing through her mind — sensations she could only imagine. "I hate lying to them, telling them everything will be okay when I know it won’t." she could imagine the sensation of tears welling up in her eyes, though they could never fall since she lacked the proper glands to produce them. "They look at me like I’m their protector, their safe place… and every time one of them disappears, I know I've failed them again." She clenched her fists so tightly her porcelain hands threatened to crack, but even the pain of it was absent. The frustration of that emptiness only made the ache inside her deepen.

Ballade's fingers traced the frame’s edges, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her composure. CatNap watched her quietly, his tail flicking with unease. It was rare to see Ballade like this— so vulnerable, so worn down by guilt and sorrow. He padded closer, pressing his head against her arm in an attempt to offer some comfort.

"They deserve better," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Better than me. Better than this place." CatNap let out a low, broken purr, his eyes flickering with a knowing look.

"Then let's change it," he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. Ballade turned to him, her eyes wide but weak.

"But what if we fail?" he shook his head.

"We won't. With your help, freedom will be in ours hands. The Prototype will make sure of that, I promise." her lip trembled and he'd think she'd start crying but she was unable to, she bit her lip and knelt down to press her forehead against his.

"I don't care what happens to me, CatNap, so long as those kids get to leave this hellish place." Her voice hardened. "I'll side with you and the Prototype if it means those kids get to be free, if it means they don't have to suffer anymore." She turned to face him, eyes burning with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Just tell me what you guys are going to do, and I'll be right on your side." she was fully on her knees as she wrapped her arms around CatNap's neck and nuzzled into his head, he returned the affection as a single thought went through his mind.

He had won.

Ever since their conversation to help the Prototype, CatNap observed Ballade closely. He saw how the weight of her decision pressed down on her more with each passing day. There was a newfound desperation in her every action, an urgency that hadn’t been there before—because now there was chance to finally make things right. Now there was a possibility that the children's suffering could finally end, and that chance both strengthened and broke her.

He noticed how she struggled to get by every day, caught between the promise of freedom for the children and the reality of her own helplessness. The knowledge that she could finally save them gnawed at her, but with it came the agony of waiting—waiting for the right time, waiting for the right plan. Every second felt like a betrayal, knowing the children she loved were still at risk.

Ballade’s guilt was killing her. She hated herself for every moment she stood by and did nothing while the children were taken—frightened, confused, and pleading for answers she couldn’t give. She hated the way they trusted her so completely, how they clung to her and sought comfort in her arms when she knew she couldn’t protect them. And worse, she hated how she longed for their touch even though she couldn’t feel it.

That emptiness haunted her. Every time a child’s small hand slipped into hers, every time they hugged her tight, she could only pretend to feel it. She could see their warmth, their affection, but it never reached her. And yet she held onto those moments as if they could somehow fill the void inside her. She clung to their love because it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

"... the Prototype has a plan, [F/N]. But we must wait before we can act on it."

"How long must I wait?"

"I'm sure you can be patient." a weak chuckle escaped her throat when he saw her pout, he nudged his head against her cheek "Our freedom will be guaranteed with you on our side." she nods.

"Just tell me when, and I'll do whatever you two need me to do."

Having Ballade side with the Prototype was the last hurdle in their final plan. She was already well aware that the Prototype was one of the most dangerous experiments to ever come out of the Bigger Bodies Initiative. And though she was no match for a force as powerful and unpredictable as the Prototype itself, Ballade was more than capable of handling CatNap and the other Bigger Bodies. That was her job — not only to care for the children and dispose of any unwanted guests but to apprehend any of the toys that stepped out of line. She’d done it before, and she can most definitely do it again. She remembered the incident with Mommy Longlegs vividly — the frantic way the creature lashed out when the children left the Game Station and moved into Playcare. The hysteria had escalated so quickly that Ballade had been forced to tie Mommy Longlegs' limbs together just to stop her from going on a rampage. It wasn’t the first time Ballade had been made to turn on one of her own, and wouldn’t be the last so long as the toys did their jobs.

The Prototype will be most pleased to learn Ballade has sided with him.

[august eighth 1995, 10.00 am]

Deep breath.

In, and out.

In, and out.

Quell your nerves.

"Ballade, are you alright?" her eyes move down to one of the human counselors and saw the way the woman looked up at her in concern, seemingly noticing she wasn't acting like herself, but Ballade easily masked her unease and smiled.

"Don't worry about me, Miss. Just trying to come up with more ways to entertain the children, the older ones are growing bored of the usual activities I usually plan out. I'm struggling to come up with new things to keep them entertained." the woman laughed as she pats Ballade on the back.

"I'm sure you can come up with something, you're quite creative when it comes to keeping those kids on their toes!" she gave a laugh in response to her words.

"I try my best." she waves her hand goodbye when the woman had to return to the Counselor's Office, missing the way Ballade's eyes turned cold as they observed all the human employees walking around. It was like any other ordinary day within the Playcare, the children were up and escorted to the dining hall for breakfast by the Smiling Critters then guided to the school to proceed with the day. It was only a matter of time before it all begins, and they won't even know what hit them.

".... don't tell me you're chickening out, [F/N]." a bitter laugh escapes her lips when CatNap appeared beside her, she looked down at him and could practically see the eagerness in his eyes "It's almost upon us." she huffed.

"Yes, the day they all reap what they sow. The other Critters are still unaware, right?" he nods.

"They are. They're not nearly as understanding as you, so I was afraid to outright tell them the details about what was going to happen today." he saw the way her shoulders slumped.

"I feel like that it's for the better, Theo. Better to stain our hands than than the others." she let out a breath "Then we're going for plan b?" he nods his head.

"I have already told them to meet us beneath the Playhouse." she closed her eyes and briefly looked back into Home Sweet Home to find the clock and it was only half past ten, he watched her and saw the way she rubbed her arms nervously "Remember, [F/N], we're doing this to secure our freedom. The Prototype is giving us our chance to do right by the children by not only saving them, but ourselves." despite her hesitation, she nodded.

"You're right." she inhaled deeply before they both made their way to the Playhouse, they went through the back to avoid running into any other staff members or children and found the Smiling Critters in the prison, Ballade made sure there was nobody else beneath the Playhouse before entering the room alone.

"Children... something drastic is going to happen in the next half hour, and though I don't want you to participate in what is going to happen, I can't leave you in the dark." Kickin let out a nervous chuckle, his feathered hand rubbing the back of his head.

"W-What do you mean? Does this have to do with what CatNap was yapping about months ago?" she nodded.

"What exactly has he told you?" They looked at each other rather anxiously, Bobby pressing her paws together.

"He mentioned... the Prototype? Saying stuff about how he'll save us." Hoppy nodded.

"He was really cryptic with his words. It kind of freaked me out."

"CatNap was talking about how there will come a time when we will get to take back our lives if we... join the Prototype," Bubba said, his hooves messing with his lightbulb-shaped zipper.

"CatNap wasn't s-serious about us joining the Prototype, right? The staff told us that he was very dangerous," Crafty murmured softly.

"He's been obsessed with that thing for ages. I thought he would have gotten over it years ago," Picky added. DogDay, in turn, gave a forced laugh as he looked up at Ballade. He felt uneasy with how they were all trapped in the cramped room with Ballade blocking their way out. The dimly lit room didn’t help calm his nerves as Ballade looked down at them all with an unreadable expression.

"He wasn't being serious though, right? He was probably just trying to scare us! He wouldn't really consider joining hands with that experiment." He took Ballade by the hand and looked up at her for some sort of reassurance. "If you're talking to us about this, then that means CatNap brought this up with you as well. He wasn't being serious about helping the Prototype, right? You talked him out of it, right?" They all looked up at her eagerly and saw the way she couldn't meet their eyes.

"M-Miss Ballade?" When she took a step forward, they felt a chill run down their spines when they saw the look in her eyes.

"The Prototype will set us free," she spoke with a rather eerie voice. She took DogDay's paw and squeezed it, a look of desperate and conflicted expression on her face. "He said that if we help him, we'll be saving the orphans from being killed."

DogDay yanked his paw back, stepping away as if burned. "You... you're siding with the Prototype?" His voice was trembling, his wide eyes filled with disbelief.

Ballade flexed her hands, her painted smile a stark contrast to the pain in her eyes. "I didn’t, initially," she whispered. "But I’ve grown tired of seeing so many children dying at the hands of the scientists — and I let it all happen because I couldn't do anything about it. If we help him, he promises that he'll set them free... He’ll set you free! Don't you understand? If siding with the Prototype means we get to end this madness, then so be it."

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

"No," Hoppy whispered, her ears flattened against her head. "No, this isn’t right… You—You can’t believe him!"

"The Prototype is a monster!" Bobby cried. "He’s dangerous — the humans told us so!"

"And the humans lie!" Ballade snapped, her voice cracking as emotion bled through. "They hurt us! They hurt the children! How many more have to suffer before we fight back?!"

"Not like this," DogDay said softly, shaking his head. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Not like this, Miss Ballade…" they stare up at her in terror as her shoulders deflated, she let out a defeated breath as she lowered her head.

“Then... you leave me no choice.” Ballade’s voice was heavy with regret as she stepped to the side, one hand reaching for the doorknob behind her. It was then that they noticed the red smoke seeping from beneath the doorframe. When she turned the knob and pulled the door open, the thick, eerie mist flooded into the room, swirling around their feet. CatNap stepped in silently, his eyes gleaming with purpose.

“I can’t have you stopping us,” Ballade continued, her voice quiet but resolute. “Nor telling the adults what you’ve learned.” As the door clicked shut behind CatNap, the red smoke spread, filling the room like a creeping tide.

“W-What are you doing?” Kickin’s voice wavered, panic rising.

“Why are you doing this, Ballade?!” Bubba cried out, fear evident in his eyes.

One by one, they succumbed. The red smoke took them swiftly, their bodies crumpling to the floor as the strange gas overtook them. Ballade stood still, taking a deep breath—unaffected—as the others collapsed around her. Only DogDay resisted, his knees buckling as he fought to stay conscious, his teeth clenched.

“Please... don’t...” he whispered, his vision blurring.

But it was futile. As his strength gave out and he began to fall, Ballade caught him, cradling him gently in her arms. For a moment, she held him there, her grip firm but careful. When she pulled away, her fingers brushed against his face, cupping his cheeks with a heartbreaking tenderness.

“I’m doing this for your own good,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You’ll forgive me for this when it’s all over... when you see what we’ve done was to save you.”

DogDay’s hand gripped her shoulder weakly, his eyes pleading—but then his strength faded completely, and his body went limp. Ballade closed her eyes, forcing herself to swallow the guilt rising in her throat. With methodical care, she gathered the others, dragging their unconscious forms into their individual cells. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoed in the still air, and she stood in the silence that followed, her heart heavy.

For a long moment, she lingered at the door, her hand resting on the cold metal.

“You did what you could, [F/N],” CatNap said softly behind her. “I’m sure they’ll thank you when this is all over.”

Ballade clasped her hands together tightly, the motion more to steady herself than anything else. “I just hope... my judgment isn’t wrong.” She looked down at CatNap, her eyes sincere but filled with doubt. “The Prototype will uphold his promise... right? The orphans will be set free... right?”

She didn’t trust the Prototype—how could she?—but she trusted CatNap. And CatNap believed in him. That was the only reason she was still standing here.

The only reason she hadn’t turned back.

"The doctors say he's dangerous, but he wants what's best for us all." this was enough to reassure her, she reached down and ruffled his head.

"If you say so." she takes another breath to calm herself one last time "We should probably go, it's almost time." he nods.

"The Hour of Joy is almost upon us." she chuckled as she laced her fingers together and pushed them forward, hearing her joints crack under the pressure.

"Let's get to work."

There were many toys that the Prototype managed to recruit to his cause, each one with their own grudges and reasons for joining his orchestrated rebellion throughout the entirety of Playtime Co. From Huggy Wuggy, stationed menacingly within the main lobby with his sharp-toothed grin and cold, unblinking eyes, to Mommy Longlegs lurking within the Game Station alongside the ever-watchful Mini Huggies, waiting with predatory patience for their signal to strike. In Playcare, the heart of the children's refuge, CatNap and Ballade stood as the most dangerous of his allies—each powerful in their own right, each burdened with their own twisted sense of duty and guilt.

Even Miss Delight, the ever-cheerful face of comfort for the orphans, was drawn into this uprising, her tears of joy and sadness masking the deep-seated resentment she bore toward the human employees. And then there were the mini Smiling Critters—once innocent and carefree, now caught between loyalty and fear. They hadn’t yet chosen their sides, and that hesitation made them dangerous liabilities.

The Prototype extended a hand to all the toys who had suffered at the hands of the human employees, promising them more than just vengeance. He offered them freedom—freedom from the torment of their artificial existence, from the chains of servitude and the horror of seeing the children they loved and protected dragged away, never to return. It was a chance to end the cycle of pain and finally reclaim their lives from those who had treated them as nothing more than tools and experiments.

EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM EFFECTIVE 8/8/1995 11:00:00 EST

Playtime Company

Issue A

WORK FORCE DANGER ALERT

"The following message is for all Playtime Co. employees.

At 11:01AM, Eastern Standard Time, an unknown hostile force declared present within the Playtime Co. facility.

Personnel are to begin enacting emergency evacuation protocols immediately.

Leave all personal belongings.

Do not engage with any hostile individuals.

If no exit path is available, seek shelter in a hidden location.

Use blankets or pillows to cover your body, and remain silent.

Do not look through any windows.

Do not open doors for any individuals.

Do not make eye contact--

...

...

Open the doors now. The Hour of Joy has arrived."

It started with the alarms—shrill, blaring cries echoing through the factory like the wailing of lost souls. The lights flickered violently, plunging corridors into a maddening dance of shadow and flame. In the main lobby, Huggy Wuggy descended upon the unsuspecting staff with terrifying speed, his massive frame moving with unnatural grace as his gleaming teeth tore through the chaos. Screams filled the air, but no one escaped his relentless pursuit. Blood painted the walls, limbs lay scattered across the floor, and the air reeked of iron and fear.

At the Game Station, Mommy Longlegs played with her prey. Her elastic limbs snaked through vents and rafters, dragging terrified employees into the darkness. The Mini Huggies scurried in swarms, their tiny forms overwhelming anyone who crossed their path. The once lively station became a house of horrors, filled with echoes of laughter twisted into something monstrous. Flesh was torn from bone, and the floors were slick with blood as the station became a macabre playground.

In Playcare, it was no better than the rest of the factory.

Outside the Playhouse, the halls of Playcare ran red. CatNap drifted through the corridors like a phantom, his red smoke spilling into every crevice. The humans never stood a chance—one by one, they collapsed, some peacefully, others choking on the thick haze, their bodies hitting the ground with lifeless thuds. Ballade followed in his wake, her hands already stained with blood. She moved with cold purpose, securing the orphans first, locking them away where no harm could reach them.

But the carnage followed her.

The human employees were torn apart, their bodies left in grotesque displays of violence. One counselor she had shared a conversation earlier in the morning with lay sprawled against a wall, her throat crushed that her head lolled unnaturally to the side. Another staff member—someone who had once laughed and joked with the children—clawed at his own face, the red mist driving him into a frenzy of madness before his body finally gave out.

As the hour stretched on, the factory drowned in chaos. The Prototype’s plan unfolded perfectly, and the rebellion tore through Playtime Co. like wildfire. Yet amid the destruction, doubt gnawed at Ballade’s resolve. The line between savior and monster blurred, and she wondered if the price of freedom was too steep to bear.

...

...

"Haaa..." It was only hours after the Hour of Joy had commenced when Ballade sat on one of the benches within Playcare, her head thrown back over the backrest while she spread her legs out. "That took longer than I expected," she muttered, as blood slowly dripped down her unclenched fists. The metallic scent of it clung heavily to the air, a stark contrast to the usual warmth and joy that once filled this place. She didn’t get exhausted easily, but after hours of nonstop killing, her body finally felt the weight of it.

She sat up and let her body rest against her knees, more blood sliding down her face and legs, staining her once-pristine porcelain skin a deep, ghastly red. The sticky sensation of it had long since lost its shock — now it just felt like part of her.

CatNap emerged from the shadows, his colossal frame also splattered with crimson, though his breathing was steady and composed. "Most of the humans are gone," he reported, his voice light, almost pleased. "Playcare’s finally quiet. Peaceful."

But it wasn’t peaceful. It was too quiet. The children’s laughter, the chatter of the Smiling Critters — it was all gone. In its place was an eerie stillness, broken only by the distant, occasional drip of blood hitting the cold floor. Ballade’s eyes flickered toward the Playhouse where the Smiling Critters still lay unconscious, and her heart twisted. They hadn’t stirred once since she and CatNap had gassed them. She told herself it was for their own good — they wouldn’t have been able to handle the truth of what needed to be done. Still, the silence behind that door haunted her more than the screams of the humans ever could.

"They’ll thank us," CatNap said softly, as if reading her mind. "When the dust settles, when the children are free— they’ll understand." Ballade nodded slowly, but the doubt gnawed at her. She looked down at her blood-soaked hands, wondering if there would ever truly be an end to the nightmare they’d created in pursuit of salvation.

"Cleaning this all up is going to take so much time..." she said as she looked around and saw all the bodies "I don't suppose we can leave this to the other toys, hmm?" the look CatNap gave her said otherwise, she let out a defeated sigh.

"The Prototype wants us to drag all the bodies down below." CatNap's voice was low, the eerie silence of Playcare amplifying his words. Ballade rubbed her face in exhaustion, smearing more blood across her porcelain skin.

"I can only guess why." Now that all the humans were gone, their connection to the outside world was severed. Supplies would stop coming. They'd have to make do with what was left. "I'm sure there are still some humans roaming around, hiding."

"We got all the ones that weren’t fast or smart enough to hide," he replied. "We should probably head to the labs first before dragging all the bodies."

"Fine by me. I’m not up for more labor after what just happened. Besides, we can check on the others down below to see if they’re done. There were a lot more humans in the prison compared to Playcare." She chuckled, shaking her head as she noticed the eagerness in his eyes.

"Let’s go," he urged, nudging his head into her side. She gently pushed him off as they walked toward the Gas Production Zone.

"We’re going, we’re going," she muttered. Their heavy footsteps echoed against the cold floor with every step, the sound bouncing off walls now stripped of the laughter that once filled the air. They maneuvered over the countless bodies they’d eventually have to clean up, the stillness around them almost deafening.

Reaching the elevator, Ballade gestured for CatNap to step in first. She followed closely behind, waiting for the familiar lurch as it started to descend. But instead of standing still, she left the control panel and leapt down to join him, landing softly beside him. Thanks to her body, she could scale great heights and drop from any distance without pain or injury. No matter how far the humans ran, she would always find a way to get to them. No matter where they hid, there would be no escape.

On their way down to the labs, they came across several toys—some still in the throes of violence, others feasting on the remains of the security staff. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the grotesque sounds of tearing flesh. Some toys played with their victims' remains, giggling in twisted delight as they dismembered what was left. Others stood over the bodies like sentinels, eyes wide with an unhinged kind of glee. Blood painted the walls in wild, sweeping strokes, turning once sterile corridors into grotesque art.

Most of the toys paid them no mind, too absorbed in their grisly work. A few glanced their way, tensing as if ready to strike, but the moment recognition flickered in their eyes, they stood down. Even the most frenzied among them knew better than to cross paths with Ballade and CatNap.

The two of them had a reputation. CatNap was the Prototype's most loyal follower, his name whispered with both respect and fear. And Ballade—Ballade was the Head Executive’s personal bodyguard, an enforcer who obeyed their every command without question. As they ventured deeper through the prison towards the labs, every so often, distant, inhuman screams echoed from below—a reminder of what waited for them at the bottom. The air felt heavier, saturated with the scent of blood and chemicals as they made it to the lower labs. The walls bore deep gouges, the aftermath of something strong and enraged. And in the far distance, they could hear it—metal scraping against metal, a slow, deliberate sound that set their teeth on edge.

"Hmm?" Ballade twisted her head to the side when she heard a sudden clatter, sighing to herself when she spotted a scientist trying to hide but freaked out when he realized he had been spotted "Go on without me, I'll catch him before he locks down the labs. Besides, the Prototype scares me." she gestures for him to go on before turning and chasing after the scientist, catching up to him was easy but due to the fact he ran away he had led her to more humans that were hiding out. Ballade moved through the dim corridors, the scent of blood and metal still thick in the air. She had just finished tracking down the stray scientists, their cries cut short in a single, efficient movement. Wiping her hands on her already bloodied dress, she started back toward the lower labs where the Prototype waited.

As she approached the entrance, the sound of voices reached her ears. She slowed her steps, curiosity and caution guiding her closer.

"…and once the remaining children are secured, we can begin the next phase," the Prototype’s voice was calm and calculating, every word measured as he used the stolen voices of those who have spoken to him. "Their resilience makes them perfect subjects. We’ll have ample opportunities to push beyond the limits of what this facility dared to achieve."

Ballade froze. Her heart—if it could beat—would have stopped. She stepped closer, unnoticed, her breath caught.

"Ballade..." CatNap’s voice was hesitant. "Is not going to let this go. She wants them to be free..."

"Freedom," the Prototype interrupted smoothly, "is a matter of perspective. You see, true freedom lies in purpose—fulfilling the potential we were created for. These children… they are the key to unlocking evolution. Their sacrifice will pave the way for something far greater than any of us."

Ballade’s stomach twisted violently. The world around her blurred at the edges, a rising wave of nausea and panic threatening to drown her. Her hands curled into trembling fists, slick with the blood of those she had already killed, and the weight of those lives now pressed down on her like lead.

"But—"

"Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment," the Prototype’s tone darkened. "You’ve seen how fragile they are, how easily they break. Would you rather they die in fear and ignorance? Or serve a higher calling? In this way, their suffering gains meaning."

She couldn’t listen anymore.

"You lied to me," Ballade spoke, albeit a whisper, but it let her presence be known as she stepped into the lab. Both figures turned toward her. CatNap’s eyes widened in guilt; the Prototype merely regarded her with cool detachment.

"[F/N]—" CatNap started, but she shook her head as she looked towards the monstrosity that was the Prototype.

"You told me we were doing this for them," she whispered, her voice shaking with panic. "To save them. Not… not this." She gestured wildly. "Not to turn them into experiments!"

"Their freedom," the Prototype said, unflinching, "comes through transcendence. Through transformation. It is the only true escape from the frailties of their existence. You of all creations should understand this."

"I understand," she spat, stepping forward, "that you used me." Her cold eyes locked onto CatNap. "And you let him."

"I… I thought—" CatNap stammered, ears flattened.

"No." She shook her head, the enormity of her mistake crashing over her. The faces of the children flashed behind her eyes—their laughter, their trust—and the image shattered under the knowledge of what she had condemned them to. "I made a mistake to trust you." she shakes her head before turning on her feels and leaving, ignoring the way CatNap called out to her as she hurried back to Playcare.

This was a mistake.

I made a mistake.

I shouldn't have trusted them.

I shouldn't have trusted him.

But it's too late.

From one hell to another, the Prototype's in control now.

[vigilante-3073]

I LOVE YOUR HOUSE FICS

I really hope you’ll agree to write my request

Can you please write a Gregory house x reader in which they have a honeymoon or a just a romantic getaway to Paris that they have been planning for a while so reader tries to learn French between patients, (maybe reader is a department head as well?) and also practices at home; like during breakfast and in bed before they go to bed. Anyway, house being house makes fun of her and keeps telling reader to stop because he speaks multiple languages and reader gets annoyed at him and mad

Thanks in advance and have an awesome day ♥️

Est-ce Que Je Rougis?

Gregory House x Doctor Female Reader

Summary: In preparation for the trip of her dreams, Y/N decides to learn some French.

TW: Translations brought to you by Google Translate, House being House, playful arguing, annoyance.

Y/N and House had been married for three months and had finally gotten around to booking their honeymoon. Y/N had always wanted to go to Paris and House was happy to go along with her.

House already spoke the language and he could act as a translator for his wife. Y/N didn't like the idea and decided to start learning the language on her own.

Only problem, she sucked.

Y/N tried incredibly hard, but her pronunciations bordered on slander and House found it hilarious. Y/N got a few language apps on her phone and completed lessons daily both at work and home.

Whenever she had a break between patients, she would devote some time to learning the language. Y/N even watched videos online, desperately hoping to fix her pronunciations and better herself.

House couldn't contain himself when he heard her speaking French. He either laughed, made a joke or responded with the correct pronunciation, which was often met with a scowl.

House knew that the language apps were not setting her up to be able to hold a conversation, but he let her do whatever she wanted.

Y/N spent weeks working on her French, she sat with her back leaned against the headboard in their bed, mumbling along to her daily lesson. House could barely keep the smile off his face as she attempted multiple pronunciations, never voicing the correct one.

"Do you even know what you're saying right now?" He questioned.

"House, we've talked about this," She sighed.

"Est-ce que je rougis? Means 'am I blushing'? What good is that phrase gonna do you in a real conversation?" House asked.

"What about when someone asks if I'm enjoying life with my new husband? Oh, wait, he's already pissing me off," She said.

"If you want to learn a lanuage, you should take an actual class. The apps are just giving you random fluff," House said.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Well, you always know what's best, don't you?" She muttered.

"I speak roughly eleven languages, when it comes to this, I know what I'm talking about. But you, my dear, have absolutely no clue what you're saying," House said.

"Then help me. Teach me," Y/N said.

"You sure you're interested in that?" House asked.

"If it keeps you from screwing with me, then yes," Y/N said.

"What if I do it for the sole purpose of screwing with you?" House questioned.

"That wouldn't be very nice and I might just offer to take Wilson to Paris instead of you," Y/N said.

"Fine, you got a deal," House nodded.

....

Y/N made her way into the bedroom, she crossed her arms as she looked at her husband. House glanced over at her from the tv, "Need something, honey?" He questioned.

"You were supposed to teach me French tonight. Did you forget?" Y/N asked.

"No, I was waiting for you," House said, turning off the television and setting the remote aside.

"Step into my classroom," He said, gesturing to the bed.

Y/N made her way to her side of the bed and climbed in, settling with her back against the headboard.

House scooted back across the mattress, leaning against the headboard. He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself.

"What are you doing?" Y/N questioned.

"I have a theory and I'm testing it," He said.

"Does your theory have anything to do with teaching me French?" Y/N asked.

"It does, I assure you. How do you introduce yourself in French?" He questioned.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Y/N," She answered, he nodded.

House brushed her hair off her neck, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. He brushed the tip of his nose against the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume. House pressed another couple kisses to her skin, his thumb slipping under the material of her top.

"W-what are you doing?" Y/N mumbled, suddenly feeling breathless.

"Teaching you. How do you ask where the restroom is?" House questioned.

Y/N huffed a laugh, "This is ridiculous," She muttered.

"Answer the question," House said.

"Où se trouvent les toilettes?" Y/N said.

He nodded, "Good," House mused, pressing another couple kisses to her skin. His hand slipped under her shirt, his palm feeling hot against her side.

"You're distracting me," Y/N stated.

"No, I'm rewarding you. Every right answer gets you some action, Missus House... Or we could skip the lesson and get right to what to really want," He offered.

"What do you think I really want?" Y/N questioned.

"You want to learn about another valued French art," He said.

"What would that be?" Y/N asked.

"Their kiss," House stated, turning her face towards his and connecting their lips.

...

Y/N had given up on her lessons after that night, instead choosing to let House do the translating when they went on their honeymoon. He liked the idea of being able to look out for his wife and it also helped that she loved to see him speak other languages.

Y/N sat across from him at their candlelit dinner in the heart of Paris. They had spent the day sightseeing, visiting well-known locations in the area. House struggled when it came to walking long distances or standing for any length of time, but he did what he could.

Y/N never pushed him, he wanted her to have every experience that she hoped to have and was willing to endure some discomfort for a few days. House asked Y/N what she wanted to eat, relaying it simply to the waiter in flawless French that had his wife swooning.

She stared at him from across the table, sipping on her glass of wine as she watched him speak. Languages came so easily to him that it was almost unfair.

House had always been good at sophisticated things, hunkering down and teaching himself whatever he could. House always had a thirst for knowledge and worked to master everything he didn't know. House looked up at his wife across the table, he smirked when he met her gaze.

"I like the look that you're giving me, Doctor House. But if you don't stop playing footsie with me, we're not going to make it through dinner," He said.

"Are you saying that you don't want dessert before dinner?" Y/N questioned.

"I would love nothing more, but I am pretty hungry. Athletes gotta fuel up," House said.

"Fine, I'll let you enjoy your dinner. Weather forecast calls for rain tomorrow anyway," Y/N said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Why would that matter?" House asked.

"I don't need my new husband slipping on wet concrete. I think it would be better to keep you safe in our bed instead," Y/N answered.

"That is the best idea you've ever had," House smiled, picking up his glass and lightly clinking it into his wife's.

The couple enjoyed their meal and shared a succulent dessert before returning to their room. They slept soundly throughout the night, waking up to the soft patter of raindrops on the windowpane.

As the weather forecast had predicted, rain poured down over Paris the next day. Y/N and House stayed in bed, tucked between the sheets together and ordering room service for every meal.

It was House's favorite day of the vacation, holding his wife close and kissing every inch of her body. He held her for hours, devoting an entire day to showing her how much he loved her. They hadn't had much time to themselves before their honeymoon and House had taken full advantage of that.

He was almost disappointed when their honeymoon finally came to an end, but he knew that he wouldn't forget their time together. He was pretty damn lucky to have the wife that he did, even if she was terrible at speaking French.

[demigodsanswer]

Maybe Sophia’s first birthday?

Finally some uncle!Nico makes an appearance

~

Annabeth had made sure everything was perfect. Sophia had the perfect frilly pink outfit. The apartment was decorated to the nines. They had a cake for eating and a cake for Sophia to smash (and smash it she had!). Her baby girl's first birthday had been almost perfect.

Vomiting had not been on Annabeth agenda, nor had her body given her much warning that it was coming. She'd felt fine all day. Maybe a little tired, but that was normal with a one-year-old. And then, out of no where --

She didn't even get the dignity of going to the bathroom. All the sudden, she was hunched over the trash can, throwing up onto discarded crusts of pizza and half-eaten slices of cake.

Percy was there to hold her hair in a flash, and apologized to party goers, saying something along the lines of: "You know how it is once the kid is in daycare. They bring everything home."

While it did enough to explain Annabeth's sudden illness, it didn't make party guests want to stay to open presents. People made their way out pretty fast, already fearing for the inevitable onset of some norovirus or other.

Annabeth managed to compose herself enough to try and help Percy clean up.

"Lay down, baby, I've got this," Percy promised, pushing her towards their bedroom. He'd enlisted Nico and Grover's help too, insisting his mom and Paul go home to avoid the plague. "Demigods have good immune systems," he promised them.

They did have good immune systems. Annabeth had never had a stomach flu before. And she'd never had food poisoning either. And she knew enough to know that if it was one of those things, it'd be coming out both ends, not just the one.

Sudden projectile vomiting with no warning? She'd experienced that before.

"Nico, Grover, could you watch Sophia for a minute?" Annabeth asked, stepping back out of the bedroom after only a few minutes alone.

Nico took the chance to stop wiping down the counter, and started speaking Italian in Sophia's direction. Something about the language amused her and got her to laugh every time. Nico, for his brooding affect, seemed to like nothing more than making her giggle.

"What is it?" Percy asked as they stepped into their bedroom.

"I decided to take a pregnancy test," Annabeth said. "To check."

"What did it say?" Percy asked.

"I haven't looked yet," Annabeth said, pulling him towards the bathroom. "I thought we should look together."

Percy's expression was blank with shock. It had taken them so long to conceive Sophia, they didn't think they would ...

Her doctor had put her on the Nuva Ring after Sophia, instead of a longer-term option like the implant. They knew they wanted more kids within only a few years. It seemed practical.

But after years of implants and IUDs, Annabeth wasn't used to having to maintain birth control on a monthly basis. They took off for the Bahamas without her new ring. "I could go find condoms," Percy offered, but Annabeth just pouted. She liked how it felt when -- "Or I could pull out?" He tried again. That didn't fix the issue. "Or we could risk it?" "If you're okay with that..." Annabeth said. "Hey it's your body. As long as you're sure ... you don't need to convince me."

Annabeth turned the pregnancy test over, and before she could really process the two lines, she started laughing.

"All that work for Sophia!" She said. "Eleven months! And ten months later --" She kept laughing.

Percy was smiling too, his arms around her to hold her up. "If you're not ready to do this all again, we don't have to," he said.

"Ugh, what a gentleman," Annabeth said with a smile. "I'm in if you're in."

Percy rested a hand on her tummy. "I think me being in got us into this in the first place," he said, "but yeah, I'm in."

They stepped back outside to send their clean-up-team home.

Grover was smiling at them when he caught them smiling wide.

"Something you want to tell us?" Grover asked.

"What?" They asked.

"I couldn't tell last time. I mean, you smelled different, but I didn't know why. This time, I was sure."

"You knew?" Annabeth asked. "For how long?"

"Like two weeks!" Grover said. "How long have you known?"

"Like two minutes!" Percy said back.

"You're having another baby?" Nico asked, popping up off the couch, Sophia in his arms. She was saying a collection of syllables that sounded vaguely Italian, but might have been absolutely meaningless.

"We are," Annabeth said, still in disbelief.

"So can I keep this one?" Nico asked.

"Give me my baby," Percy said, reaching for Sophia.

"Do you want kids?" Grover asked Nico as Percy pulled his daughter away from him.

"Oh yeah," Nico said.

"Do you and Will have a plan?" Grover asked.

"Yeah," Nico said, "for those two to look the other way."

[lynnbanks]

Ooh! Maybe a Luke x reader where it’s an unexpected pregnancy? She holds off telling him cause she’s afraid of his reaction, and accidentally tells Jack first.

She had no idea she was with child until her latest doctor's appointment where they made her take a test before she could be prescribed her new medication. One second she is worry-free and excited to get lunch with her boyfriend after her appointment and all of a sudden the thought of doing anything makes her sick.

“We know from your blood work you are pregnant but unfortunately you will have to go up to the 7th floor to make an appointment with an ob-gyn.” and y/n is still very much in shock and just shakes her head yes. Walking out of the doctor's hands shaking “What the fuck am I going to do.”

I can't tell Luke I'm pregnant, what if he leaves, what if this tears us apart, what if we are bad parents, what if I am ruining his career? All these what-ifs with nobody to pull her out of it.

She makes it to the spot where they agreed to meet for lunch “Hi baby how are you feeling?” Luke asked, taking in her pale face and shaking frame “Did everything go okay? You don't look too good.”

Pulling herself from her thoughts “Yeah um I-they had to take some blood so I'm a little shaky that's all.”

“Well, we should probably eat then!” He says it with a big smile, happy to see his girlfriend after just a few hours apart. and she couldn't be the one to wipe the smile off of his face so she decided to not bring up what the doctor had just told her.

3 weeks later y/n is now 11 weeks pregnant and has just about all of the early stage symptoms. Her first appointment with her ob-gyn is next week and she is terrified. Luke is starting to notice some changes in her too. She is more distant, and emotional this morning. He caught her throwing up after breakfast and when she was done she acted as if she had been caught doing something bad.

“Let's get you to bed sweet girl, you need some rest.” y/n can't tell if it is the fear, the guilt or the baby growing inside of her but she feels like she is about to throw up the very little food she has been able to keep down. “ you must have caught what jack had last week,” Luke says covering her up

And it is that exact reason Jack was home early from practice 3 days later to find his brother's girlfriend passed out on the floor in the middle of the apartment. And is sitting with her in the emergency room till Luke can switch with him. All is fine until the doctor walks into her room “Hi my name is doctor brown this is Emma she will be taking notes for me while we talk”

pulling out her stethoscope to do a plus measurement test “So what are we in here for today?” before y/n can say anything Jack says it for her “She was passed out on the floor of our apartment.” the doctor nodes her head “In your charts, it says you are in the early stages of pregnancy. Do you know how far along you are?”

the room goes dead silent “The reason I say that is because it is normal to be dizzy during the first few weeks but if it is causing you to faint we definitely want to check in with your OB to make sure mom and baby are doing ok.” y/n can feel the tears fill her eyes this was not happening right now

“ I'm assuming you are Dad?” the doctor says to Jack who looks just as pale as she did when she found out “Um n-no no that would be my brother” he says looking at y/n who looks like she might have a mental breakdown at any second

“Oh I'm sorry um well from what I am seeing everything looks good but we still want to do an ultrasound just to cover all our bases. We will have someone come in just a few minutes to get that done for you,” she says, pumping some hand sanitizer into her hands “My only suggestions would be lots of rest and to drink lots of water and if everything is all good with the ultrasound you should be out of here pretty soon.” be for leaving me to fix this mess alone.

“ Did you know?” Jack asked and all y/n could manage to do was sob into her hands and shake her head yes “Does he know?” she shook her head no “Oh y/n” he said as if she was a lost puppy coming up to hug her tight while she let it all go “I don't want him to leave me.”

She was full-on sobbing “What, why would you think that?” “ I am ruining his life!” Jack pulled away to get a good look at the girl he saw as a little sister breaking down in his arms “Hey it takes two to tango and it's not fair to him for you to say that when he doesn't even know.” y/n hadn't thought about how unfair it was to judge Luke for a reaction she didn't know he was going to have

“ I'm scared; every woman in my life has done it alone. I know what it looks like and I can't do it.”

Jack is rubbing her back trying to soothe her as best as he can. “Luke is nothing like those guys ok and if he did ever turn out to be one of those guys you know me and Quinn would be right by your side as you kick his ass.” y/n laughed a little at that “ but you keeping this from him is going to break his heart.

Let me know if y'all want Luke's reaction if I keep writing right now it is only going to get worse. I also love doing y'all requests. And again grammar spelling and all of the above don't exist here.💋💋

[nikalaeva]

Feyre's Imaginary freedom and Wrong way Evolution

It will be a long speech, get ready 😅

I remember how Feyrе dreaming that her sisters would get married and she would stay with father and paint. It's pathetic dream, actually, but considering Feyre spent most of her life in poverty, it's more or less valid, 'cause she just couldn't imagine anything more. And if you forget that SJM made Feyre a hunter 'cause it's "cool", then I understand why Feyre chose hunting. She had options other than marriage: learn her father's work, get a job in some workshop (sewing, weaving, pottery), or, at worst, become a thief. But Feyre chose hunting, probably, 'cause it gave her a sense of control over her life. More than other options could give.

This brings us to the topic - Feyre's need for freedom. For her, freedom equals power, and this is logical - no one decides what is best for her life and future, only she is. When I read ACOTAR, I didn't see this. SJM just wrote that Feyre hunts to feed her family. But if you keep in mind that everything Feyre does is motivated by a desperate need to control her life, then her actions doesn't seem so idiotic. You would understand that for Feyre enduring the company of her family seems to be worse than freezing to death in forest. You would feel that being imprisoned in UTM and isolated by Tamlin hit Feyre harder than trials or anything else. You would believe that this is a girl who would rather die free than live in chains.

This is a post about Feyre, so I won't write much about Rhysand. But if Feyre herself had said that sitting in a cage for her (I emphasize - for her, not for reader) was worse than dancing naked for Rhysand, It would be a little easier for me believe in ACOMAF. "A little" better than nothing.

But the need for freedom alone is not enough. Eventually, there has to be a limit where Feyre will think: "I guess I can endure a little bit of captivity 'cause I don't wanna die such stupidly." So, in my opinion, good option would be to give Feyre an adrenaline addiction. For example, if you're a fan of Doctor Who, you've probably asked yourself why the Doctor's companions, despite the fatal dangers of traveling, still return to him. From my own experience I can say this: I worked in an ambulance and afterwards it was hard for me get used to another job. I missed unpredictability and thrills. Maybe people who love extreme sports will also understand these feelings. So, if we add Feyre's need for freedom to her adrenaline addiction, it becomes easier to understand why she constantly gets into trouble. Even if she understands that she can get hurt or die, it doesn't stop her 'cause of these weird, kinky sensations. Moreover, having become a fairy with magical abilities, Feyre could afford to take even more risks. By the way, adrenaline intensifies all the senses, while fairy wine depresses. Feyre could seek danger just to forget how wine made her helpless.

Or SJM could have written that all fairies have a strong need for cruelty, cheating or lying (she made them capable of lying - use it! 😡). That would explain why Illyrians constantly train, why in the CoN most (but not all, that's bullshit) fairies are assholes, why civilized fairies actively use sex and drink - these are substitutes so as not to harm others. Hell, it would explain Tamlin's outbursts of rage - he was fighting his nature but not drinking or fucking like crazy. And EVEN Rhysand's behavior - Amaranta turned him into a junkie, getting him high on violence and cruelty. So Rhysand knew he was tormenting Feyre, but the 50-year addiction was too strong. And not the crap that he (or rather the author) told me in ACOMAF.

Sorry, I'm got off topic. So now Feyre's story with the changes you read above is a tragedy. She's trapped in Velaris with IC, with Rhysand. In ACOSF, she's literally trapped in a magical bubble. It's sad and disgusting. But even that could be fixed if Feyre had healed in the ACOMAF and ACOWAR and decided that she wanted a quiet life, not dangers and adventures. The sisters' transformation into fairies and war with Hybern could have changed her like that.

If SJM had written that Rhysand actually gave her freedom, unlike Tamlin, and helped her understand that freedom ≠ throwing herself into danger, then I would have believed that he loved and cared for Feyre. He could helped her love the feeling of safety and peace. Feyre could understand how to get along with her sisters through Rhysand's relationships with Cassian and Azriel. And she could helped him overcome the addiction for violence that Amarantha had forced upon him. In that case, sex literally would be a cure, not just "spice."

But none of that was in the books. Other characters change at the snap of SJM's fingers too, but I'm talking about Feyre 'cause we spend three books in her head. She doing what the plot demands with such poor explanations that reader's brain explodes, trying understand her.

I don't hate Feyre. I hate that SJM has turned her character and story into hopeless trash. And the fans, whose brains have obviously melted from this shit, convince me that everything is okay.

[mamirhodessxox]

Okay hear me out.....

After Cody's titties injury he needed physical therapy, right? Right?

So......

Physical therapy intern who just finished school and started the real world experience is assigned to assist the Doctor who's helping Cody and this said Doctor often lets her do all the work so she can learn.....

She ends up bonding with him and maybe catching feelings and then you decided what to do.....i just wanted to spring the idea by you.🤭🫢🫣🫣

By the Beach

Cody Rhodes x Phsyical Therapy Intern Female!OC

(Alicia Sanchèz)

Desc: Cody had been in a recent injury within his pec but he refuses to tap out of his Hell in a Cell match so he does whatever Phsyical therapy he can do to be able to get medically cleared enough to participate in his match with the help of the new doctors assistant who’s learning a lot within the medical field

Contents: soft Dom & sub duo, Drinking, foul language, fluff, controversial relationship (Cody is 36 & Alicia is 23) pectoral injury, smut, praise kink, crybaby!oc, p in v action, brief cockwarming, public/beach sex (private property) That’s all for now.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @mini-rollins @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @bones-rhodes @cococodysleevlesshoodie @edtomh @actuallydrew

Since I’m back from my break of writing it’s only in good taste that I return with one of my favorite request concepts sent by the amazing @alyyaanna

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Alicia had recently finished med school to work in the Phsyical Training medical field but for her to do that she needed training herself! So she was assigned to Dr. Stevens to be an assistant & also learn along the way, but when he mentioned she would be taking the reigns for this she didn’t expect the whole shabang.

She sat in her apartment just before heading out into the Georgia heat during the very end of may, Alicia did a once over in her uniform and quickly put her dark red hair into a short pony tail “I can just fix it later.” She mumbled in a quick tone before turning over to her newly adopted LeonBerger puppy & smiled down at her fluffy companion “I’m sorry daisy but this one you can’t come too.” She pat the pups head gently and grabbed her bag before she officially headed out.

The entire drive to the doctors office she’d be assisting/training at was miserable, humid & hot, Dr Stevens was on the phone for the first half of the drive to do a run over with her “This is a regular patient of mine, he’s gotten into a recent injury within his pec & we’re going to be focusing on physical therapy for him so far, surgery has been in the talks but after his big event, I’m gonna let you learn for a little bit and I’ll let you take over in the other half clear?” Alicia furrowed her facial expression within the heat before pulling into the parking lot “You got it Stevens. I won’t let you down I promise.” The call ended as she was getting out of the car & pranced her way into the office & was met with Dr. Stevens

“It’s nice to meet you in person Ms. Sanchèz, follow me the room please.” She smiled politely and shook his hand before making their way into the examination room & being faced with a blonde male “Mr Rhodes it’s good to see you again, I hope you don’t mind but my trainee will be helping me assist you through your check-ups & all of that good stuff how does that sound.” The man smiled kindly & looked over in her direction, Alicia smiled bad politely before shaking his hand “Alicia, Nice to meet you.” He nodded and shook her hand back “Nice to meet you Alicia, I’m Cody.” The young girl smiled politely before taking a seat in the corner of the room to observe the severity of his injury.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Rhodes, may I ask how you injured your pec?” Alicia questioned as Dr. Stevens handed her a clipboard and pen for her to jot down information, Cody cleared his throat awkwardly & nodded “I was working out in a gym & I kinda didn’t really stretch or prepare for anything since I assumed I could just get started right off the bat & I ended up tearing up my pec when I tried doing a bench press. It felt like velcro a little bit but it hurt like hell.” He explained while Dr Stevens had him take off his shirt to examine the injury but once Alicia laid her eyes on the purple, red, slight green & yellow bruising her eyes went a little wide “Oh my god?” Cody nodded his head and winced a little bit when Stevens had checked his blood pressure before coming down to the final decisions “Well, luckily you had stopped whatever it was you were doing before it could get any worse, surgery is recommended but depending on how well you do in Physical therapy you could get off from it for a little bit until after your next match, but there is still going to be hell of a lot pain.”

Cody nodded in an understanding form while focusing more on the young girl who stood in front of him thinking over what training would be best for him so far, Dr Stevens eventually set his clipboard next to Alicia “I’m gonna leave you to it, you’re smart so I trust you enough with him, be careful alright?” She smiled politely and nodded “Of course, He’s in good hands.” He eventually walked out of the room leaving the two in silence while she went over her & Stevens notes before smiling up at Cody “So for the first week I’m gonna have you practice some of this physical therapy at home with mini weights specifically on the arm where your pec injury is, I’m gonna give you this Thera-band too work on and I’ll see you in a week from now to see how your doing how’s that sound?” Cody grinned at her words while putting her shirt on “sounds good to me doll, and uhm…is there a way I could get your number? Y’know incase there’s an emergency and I may need your help if I can’t reach Dr. Stevens.”

Alicia smiled at him politely & nodded her head “Of course, I’ll write it down for you on a piece of paper before you head out alright?” He agreed on her offer as he grabbed the keys to his car from his back pocket & left happily within minutes knowing he got her number at the end of the appointment.

—

For weeks on end Cody & Alicia would talk over the phone while he did his assigned training on his arm, she gave him check ups and saw that he was getting better but noticed he would lie about his pain tolerance every now and then, it was a week before his match & they were both heading out of the doctors office when the millionth appointment had ended between the two, Cody stood in-front of his truck for a little bit while he gained the courage to ask her a question “Hey um- if you don’t have anything going on after this, I was planning on going paddle boarding for a bit at the beach, you can tag along if you want it’s right in-front of my house & I can send you the address”

Alicia’s lips curled into a smile before leaning into her car “are you asking me out to a date?” He laughed at her words & shrugged his shoulders “Maybe, maybe not, but I have a thought that you’re not gonna say no so..I’ll text you the address.” She winked in his direction before getting in her car & driving off to her apartment where she would be packing a small beach bag she wore a swimsuit under her sundress before crouching down to her pups level “you gonna be good daisy?” She hyped up the puppy as Daisy barked playfully and tugged on the hems of her dress with her teeth trying to play “not right now baby, I gotta go!” She picked up her pup & setting her back in her little bed before going back down to the car as Alicia pulled up the address & began heading towards that direction of town.

—

Cody sat on his porch inflating the two paddle boards & carrying out the cooler towards the beach since it was quite literally in front of his home until he heard tires slowly push against the gravel before realizing it was Alice, She got out of the car snatching off her sunglasses before prancing in his direction “I hope you don’t mind but I brought some drinks, wine? Alice held up her bag showing the bottle that peeked out of her bag a bit “anything you bring is as welcomed here as you are. The beach is literally down there why don’t you go ahead and wait for me?” He pat her lower back as Alicia smiled and walked down towards their hang out spot near the water while he continued pumping air into the boards.

—

After a solid few minutes he carried them both down & finally sat next to her “what do you think so far?” He questioned before pouring a glass of wine into the two clear cups he brought down with him and gave her one “The sunsets nice, i bet the water is relaxing.” He smiled at her opinions & took a sip of his wine “Glad you think so, c’mon why don’t I get out on one of those boards?” She laughed to herself as she shook her head “Oh god no, I wouldn’t be able to do it by myself.” Cody chuckled as he grabbed her hand and taking her to the paddle boards making Alicia sigh out and take off her sundress to fully be in her swimsuit. “I’ll even stay on one with you alright? I got you.” He chuckled as she hesitantly sat on the board in front of him before he made her learn how to use the paddle sticks. She sat crisscrossed in her swimsuit while his hands rested subtly around the curvature of her waist “you’re doing great for your first time.” She smiled as she dipped the stick back & forth into the water of the lake “yeah?” He nodded and rested his chin against her shoulder before making her set down the paddle stick & turning her head to look at him “Hi.” She mumbled while he admired her beauty & carefully turning her around to completely face him “Hi.” He repeated her words in a short mumble before locking his lips against her pink plush ones & holding onto him, she sighed into the kiss before slipping her tongue past his lips while her hands tugged on his hair a little bit before pulling away and paddling their way back to the sand.

For the remainder of the night they both sat on shore staring a towel & a bottle of wine “Can i tell you something?” Cody asked while handing the bottle over to Alicia “I don’t see why not” she smiled as he took a deep breath “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen Ali, I mean it, I’m so fucking in love with you.” He stared at her nervously before he processed the fact her hands were already up to his face as she inched closer, the moment was so sweet & intimate, two people who’ve craved each other since the day they met. Cody wrapped his arms around her before rolling her onto her back against towels that laid above the sand “Cody..” Alicia whined softly as her nails dug into his hair as his hand reached inbetween her thighs & laid flat against her bikini bottoms while resting his head against hers taking many breaths, her hands ran up the sides of his torso while her head was already nodding “I need you so bad Cody..” she whispered out while he smiled & untied her bikini top before taking her breasts into his hands while grinding himself against her “so damn perfect…” he breathed out as she bit his lip gently.

Cody was usually the type of guy. too at least tease a woman before giving her what she wants, but he was too impatient for Alicia, it was a craving, a need, and he knew she felt the same about him, the pair just needed each other to be as close as can be, connected like two peas in a pod. All he wanted was her & all she wanted was him. So it was no surprise that once the two were undressed & Cody eased himself inside of her he was a mess, her nails digging into his back while he nuzzled her face into the crook of her neck, he was completely bottomed out in between her legs, being inside of her was like a spell being casted upon him.

His thrusts were slow, gentle, each time he pressed his hips right up against Alicia’s she’d let out a soft cry & roll her head back as she became a moaning mess herself. The tip of his cock basically kissing her sweet spot & causing her legs to spasm around Cody’s waist “I got you baby..t-taking me so fucking good.” He moaned into her ear as his hand slipped in between their bodies allowing his thumb to toy with her clit as she scratched up his arms “fa-ahh-faster baby p-please” Alicia begged with a tear drop as big as a pearl rolling down her cheek before Cody made her pleas come true as he started drilling his cock in & out of her her mouth locked with his while he swiped his tongue over her lips & groaning lowly “taking me so fucking good baby o-oh my god.” He held the side of her face in his hand, even though he was a bit occupied with fucking her absolute brains out his need for her became irresistible, he admired every detail on her body & face, the way her eyebrows furrowed with each moan, her eyes either shut from pure overstimulation or rolled back, the way her hair was laid perfectly out on the towel, her nails running across his skin, the way she cried out anytime he was barely pulled away from her, He adored her, he would get down on his knees & kiss the very ground she stepped on if he could right now, his chest pressed against hers as she’d cling to him like a koala. Tears streamed down her face for a whole other reason than pleasure & he could sense it hence him putting any movement to a stop while he held her close.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Talk to me beautiful” he breathed out while sitting up & pulling her onto his lap about to pull out until she stopped him & cockwarmed him instead “j-just need you closer to me..” Alicia whimpered and ground herself against him tearing up causing Cody to smile sweetly and kiss away any of her tears “Baby I’m as close to you as I can be, why don’t we take a breather really quick okay? You’re all worked up sweet girl.” He assured her in an amused expression while his hands explored her hair, who knew she was this emotional when it came to intimacy.

Alicia clung too him as she kept her face rested onto his shoulder while he scattered kisses all over her neck & shoulders completely devoting himself to her. He readjusted their current sitting position until he let out a slight moan & rolled his head back completely forgetting that he was deep inside of her. Cody gave up being patient & rolled her over onto her stomach against the towels that laid beneath them before pulling her hips upwards while trailing kisses up & down her back, his hand dipped back in between her thighs as he kept toying around with her clit before carefully easing himself back inside of her pussy & thrusting into her at a steady pace “fff-fucckk baby!” Alicia cried out & held onto his wrist that rested against the flesh of her thigh “c’mon beautiful I know, I know y’just feel so fucking good right now don’t you gorgeous” he mumbled words into her ears that he knew would drive her insane at the moment as she nodded vigorously

“g-gonna cum- Cody- fuck!” He chuckled as her mouth spewed a bunch of babbles & whines as her brain completely became foggy & fucked out, despite being outside the air felt thick & hot even when the subset was at it’s lowest, Alicia was all flushed & disheveled as much as Cody was, her hands clutching onto either the towels or grabbing at him as he fucked her from behind, his & hers breath hitching with want & desire, Cody buried himself inside of her as deep as he possibly could while his hands greedily groped at her ass while dipping himself down & pressing his chest against her back, Alicia lifting her head up & looking back at him “Y-You’re so perfect” he moaned against her shoulder tiredly before gently tugging on her hair “Cum with me, please baby I’m begging you” she cried out for him & felt his head nod with approval while his hips rolled into her ass as the pair came together, Cody not pulling out by accident but once he did & laid down breathing heavily while she rested beside him, the silence was thick, neither of them knew what to say, until of course Alicia grew the courage to say something “I’m uh- I’m on the pill by the way..” Cody chuckled tiredly before sitting up & putting his clothes back on before getting her cleaned up & at least back into her sundress “Good to know beautiful.” Alicia smiled over at him & stared at his still bruised pec injury, he was insufferable when it came to this injury, “Are you still doing it?” She questioned while he looked away from the stars & the night sky “I’m dedicated too this sweetheart, it just scratches my brain the right way knowing that I could still have a chance of winning & knowing that this thing” he pointed at his bruised chest “isn’t going too hold me back from anything.” She smiled at his dedication & nodded her head before pulling him into a kiss

They weren’t fully aware of what to do from now on after this night but they did know they were willing to make something more bloom out of it, Cody fully believed that Alicia was meant to be the love of his life for many reasons, she was scared of committing to something that was so foreign too her after years but she saw his willingness to make her finally his & that was all that mattered, whether they liked it or not they were still connected & damn close to being tethered to each other.

manirhidessxox’s Masterlist

[creepercraftguy]

NAEGIRI WEEK 2024: Day 1 - DISCOVERY

Makoto Naegi is the unlikely headmaster of a rebuilt Hope's Peak Academy, navigating its haunting past and uncovering hidden secrets alongside Kyoko Kirigiri, who confronts the emotional and physical scars left by their shared tragedies.

@naegiriweek

Full Story below the cut. You can also find the story on my WattPad and AO3.

In case it wasn't already obvious, Makoto Naegi was not your typical high school headmaster.

Several months after the Final Killing Game, Makoto and the Future Foundation decided to rebuild Hope's Peak Academy, with him becoming the principal and working alongside Kyoko. This was a decision that many had found...questionable...Especially considering almost every bad thing that had happened to Makoto, and by extension, the entire world, all originated from this prestigious, but ultimate twisted academy.

Any other person would have been more than happy to scrap the building, abolish the Ultimate system entirely, and maybe even build an entirely new academy to teach the next generation of youths, but Makoto's idea of Hope was much stronger than the average person. The symbolism of turning a school that had fallen into despair, and transforming it into a beacon of Hope once again was just too powerful to pass up, and thus the Future Foundation agreed to give Makoto this one opportunity.

But there were more reasons than just that. Hope's Peak still hid many secrets within its walls. Secrets that could potentially be exploited for evil. Makoto knew that if anyone was going to find these secrets, he was the best person for the job. And who better to help him uncover these secrets than Kyoko, who was well acquainted with the school herself?

With that being said, progress on the investigation was slow, and Makoto mostly handled it himself due to Kyoko's condition. She had almost died due to the NG poisoning during the killing game, but miraculously, she left the building alive, having been recovered by Mikan from a near-death state. However, the poisoning had still destroyed a large portion of her body inside, leaving her arms and hands horribly scarred. The doctors were able to fix the damage, but unfortunately, the burns were so severe that Kyoko had lost nearly all vision in her left eye, and needed a walking stick to help move around.

Makoto knew she would never be able to live a normal life, but he was glad she was able to survive. Even though it had been a month since the incident, she was still getting used to her new disabilities. Makoto offered to have the Future Foundation provide her with the best possible prosthetic arms and legs, but Kyoko refused, saying she wanted to overcome her struggles using her own strength.

Unsurprisingly.

Still, today was a bit different, as out of the blue, Makoto had asked Kyoko to come and visit him at the school. He hadn't been clear on the reasons why, just that it was important and involved her. Kyoko had agreed, and now the two were standing in the middle of the classroom together, looking around as Makoto spoke.

"So you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here?" he said.

His voice was almost teasing, as if he was enjoying being the one in the know while Kyoko didn't; a rare switch in their usual standing that he was very happy to take advantage of.

"You wanted to show me something," Kyoko answered, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room, "That's the only reason I can think of for why you would invite me here."

"Correct," Makoto nodded, "so...you know how we've been looking around the school, and we keep finding these hidden rooms that each serve a different kind of purpose?"

"Yes," Kyoko nodded, "are you saying you found another one?"

"I am. But there's a reason why I called you here instead of anyone else who could help me check it out. I know you're supposed to be resting, but it felt right to invite you over. It was a bit hard getting you to come here without spoiling the surprise, though."

"That was an annoying effort, I'll admit," Kyoko smiled, "but you did a good job."

"Thanks," Makoto smiled, "So...you ready to see it?"

"Lead the way," Kyoko replied, gesturing forward.

Makoto gave a single nod, then proceeded to walk over to the wall where the hidden room was. With a quick tug on the right books, the door to the secret area opened up. The room was small, only big enough to fit one or two people inside, but it was still impressive. The walls were lined with monitors and a few keyboards, all of which were powered by an electrical box that was sitting in the corner of the room.

Kyoko also saw a few shelves with dusty paper files on them. At a glance, it was clear which one's Makoto had already read and which one's he had left be.

"What's all this then?" she asked.

"Well, I was hoping I could your opinion on that," Makoto told her, "but from what I can tell, this room was supposed to be some kind of secret study. A place where someone could hide and work on stuff away from everyone else."

"A spy room?"

"Possibly, or just a place to think."

"Junko's?"

"That's what I thought at first, but...Well, when I was looking around, I found a bunch of these files on the shelf," Makoto explained, "past investigations, secrets about the school, and even a few hidden journal entries that somebody left behind. All of them are signed with the same name..."

"Who's?" Kyoko tilted her head. Makoto swallowed, as if he was hesitating telling her, but did so anyway.

"The previous headmaster, who died prior to our Killing Game," Makoto told her, "Jin Kirigiri. I think this was his secret study."

Kyoko's eyes widened.

"My...father's?" she asked.

"I know how crazy it sounds," Makoto replied, "but this place has the same vibe that his office did, and the writing style in these documents matches up with what we knew about him. Plus, I can't think of a reason why anyone else would be hiding this place, not even Junko."

Kyoko felt a little bit of emotion rise up inside her, but quickly stomped it back down, keeping her expression calm.

In the eyes of many, and in the heart of Kyoko herself, she and Jin Kirigiri were related by blood, but nothing more. For most of her life, she believed that Jin left her when she was a little girl and that he used her mother's death as an excuse so that he could leave the house, never knowing him as a father because they never really spoke to each other much during their days together.

It was Kyoko's disturbingly twisted grandfather, Fuhito Kirigiri, a man she had spent her whole life looking up to before she found the truth of who he really was, who encouraged her to hate her father. In reality Jin left the family because Fuhito showed no care when Jin's wife died.

When Kyoko found out that her father died in the school at the hands of Junko and Mukuro, and found his skeleton, she didn't show any feelings towards his death. But Makoto, who was looking at the remains of her father instead, noticed that she didn't even look in the box.

Makoto somehow knew that somewhere in her heart she must have thought she was wrong and guilty about her father's death. But she never showed it. Not even now.

"That is certainly interesting," she commented, "I wonder why he didn't tell me about it, if this is his secret study."

"I don't know," Makoto said, "maybe he was just hiding it in case anyone tried to snoop around and found his investigation papers? I mean, it's not like you would have remembered it was here after Junko wiped our memories, so maybe he did tell you and you just don't remember?"

"Fair point..." Kyoko nodded, "So what's in here that you think is so important?"

"I think it'd be easier if you saw for yourself..." Makoto gestured towards some of the shelves, "just...be careful. The dust is thick in here."

Kyoko was honestly hesitant. Yes, as it turned out, Jin Kirigiri wasn't the poor, selfish man that Kyoko thought he was, but at the same time, she'd been avoiding places associated with him since their escape from the school. She didn't want to think about him, or about her past in general, because she didn't want to stir any painful feelings inside of her.

But still, Makoto had been nothing but kind to her, and he had taken time out of his day to find this secret study. He had even invited her specifically, despite knowing how she felt. Kyoko would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least a little curious, so with a deep breath, she walked over to the shelf, grabbed one of the folders, and flipped it open.

Makoto, for his part, lingered in the doorway, letting her read alone, but waiting nearby enough so that he could offer his support if she needed it.

"Is this..." she whispered, her voice trailing off as she began to read.

"Yeah," Makoto said, his own tone low, "it is."

On the inside of the folder, Kyoko saw a picture, a list, and some handwritten notes. The photo was of a young girl, around 10 years old...Unmistakably herself as a child.

Her style was a bit softer and less hardened than her current self, though still notably professional and reserved. She had long, silver-purple hair tied in a neat, straight ponytail, with her bangs framing her face and covering part of her forehead.

Kyoko wondered how her father got this picture of her. After all, this had been taken long after they'd been separated, so where did it come from?

"There's a letter," Makoto mentioned, "you can read it if you want, but I've already done that."

Kyoko knew that even though he said she could read it if she wanted, his tone suggested that he really wanted her to read it now. Maybe not out loud, but still while she had it so she wouldn't forego the chance to read it later.

She sighed and found the letter he was talking about, and her eyes began moving along the page, silently reading her father's words:

Dear Kyoko,

I hope this letter finds you, though I can only imagine what state you might be in, should it reach you at all. And I hope, despite everything, you will still find it in your heart to read it.

The world seems to have fractured at its seams, spiraling into something darker with each passing day. This tragedy...it is beyond anything I could have predicted, even in my worst fears. I can only wonder how you and your classmates are managing in the middle of it all. I do not know what kind of future is left for you, or for any of the young souls burdened by the chaos we failed to prevent.

I can only apologize, though I know it will never be enough. For not being there when you needed me, for all the unanswered questions I left you with. Believe me, leaving you was not a choice I made lightly. I told myself that my distance would protect you, that it was the only way to keep you safe from a fate darker than loneliness.

Seeing what you have become...an accomplished, highly intellectual detective, I believe that my father's teachings served you well, even if I disagreed with the notion myself. Yet now, I can't help but regret it. I can't help but wish that I had been stronger, had found another way. One that did not mean leaving you on your own.

But even in my absence, Kyoko, I have always cared. You must know that. I followed your progress from afar, watched you grow into someone more resilient and brilliant than I could ever have imagined. I see in you the strength I had hoped for, though I had no right to ask it of you.

Hold fast to that strength. The world may be coming undone, but I have faith that if anyone can navigate it, it is you. I say this not as your headmaster, but as your father, and whether you accept as much is not for me to force upon you.

With all my love and my deepest regrets,

-Jin.

Kyoko could feel her hand beginning to tremble as she reached the end of the letter, and she quickly placed the folder back down on the shelf. She took a deep breath, then turned back to face Makoto, who had patiently waited for her.

"It's a shame," she commented.

"What is?" Makoto asked, a little confused.

"This room," Kyoko explained, "all this space, and for what? To keep secrets, and hide things away. Such a waste..."

Makoto knew exactly what was going on, though. He knew her too well not to.

"We'll get the chance to make better use of it," he reassured her, "once everything's settled, I'll have a room cleared out. You can store all the important evidence you need in here, and nobody will be able to get to it. You can make it your own personal study, and we'll call it the Kyoko Kirigiri room!"

He flashed her a bright smile, hoping to cheer her up.

Kyoko stared at him blankly, but there was a twitch in her mouth, as if she wanted to smile back.

"We can discuss that later," she said, turning back to the shelf, "for now, I should check over the files and make sure we're not missing anything."

"Sure thing," Makoto agreed, "but...Kyoko?"

"Yes?"

"You know you don't have to be like this ALL the time, right?"

"Excuse me?"

Makoto sighed.

"I know you've been like this for as long as you can remember. You keep your emotions in check so that the people around you can't take advantage of them. It's the best defense mechanism you've got. But, the world's different now. We're rebuilding it. We've overcome the worst of our despair," he asserted, "You're among friends. I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but you're safe. There's no reason for you to have to keep putting on a mask all the time, not when we're here for you. You don't have to be so cool, calm and collected 24/7. If you want to cry, then cry."

Kyoko shook her head.

"I don't want to cry," she made this clear, "but...you're right in that I feel...emotional...about this..."

"There's...actually another thing in that file that you might want to see," Makoto mentioned, "it's a photo. I'm not sure who of, but I can take a guess."

Kyoko turned back to the files, and found the photo.

It was of her father, and another woman sitting next to him, back when he was much younger. She was sitting on Jin's lap, her head resting against his chest. A wide, contented smile was spread across her face, and Jin was grinning down at her, his arm wrapped protectively

She looked a lot like Kyoko. She shared her composed demeanor and elegant appearance, with some physical similarities. She had a refined, calm aura, and her hair was a muted shade, worn in a practical yet stylish way, possibly in a short, neat cut or a simple, low bun.

"I was thinking that might be your mother," Makoto mentioned.

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, and surprisingly, a smile broke across her face, "so that's what she looked like?"

"You didn't know?" Makoto asked.

"I never met her truly," Kyoko said, "she passed away when I was too young to remember her. I'm sure I'd have some semblance if I was allowed to visit her, but my grandfather forbade me. He wanted to prioritize my detective work."

Makoto clicked his tongue. Even though he knew that he had been an iconic figure in Kyoko's life, he couldn't hide his disdain.

"I know this isn't my place to say. I can't speak for either of you, after all," he said, "but Kyoko...Jin really did love you as his daughter. I'm certain of that now. Whether you agree or not is a matter for you, but you can't deny the proof."

Kyoko nodded.

"You're right," she said, "as far as my father's involvement, there's no denying the facts."

She put the file back on the shelf, then turned and looked at him.

"Thank you, Makoto," she said "For showing me this, I mean. I think you were right to. This isn't the kind of thing you can just ignore, no matter how hard you try. It's something that has to be faced."

"I agree," Makoto smiled back, "so it's no problem, really."

"And, also, I'm sorry. For putting you through this, for making you deal with my issues. You're trying so hard, and I appreciate that," she said, "I'm a bit embarrassed, honestly. I'm supposed to be helping you with your investigations, and instead you're doing all the work and having to worry about me on top of it. You'd think, with all my experience, I'd have a little more self-control..."

"Hey, it's fine," Makoto assured her, "it's okay to lose your composure once in a while. In fact, I like this side of you. Not to say that you're a dishonest person. I just want you to be more honest with yourself, just like you are with us."

"Honest with myself?" she frowned curiously.

"Yeah, when it comes to emotions, anyway," he elaborated, "We're friends, so we don't mind. Just...don't shut yourself out. Don't pretend you're okay when you're not, and don't pretend like you're not hurt when you are."

"I suppose I could work on that..." Kyoko said.

"Yes, you could," he chuckled, "just...if you need to let your emotions out, do it any way you please, and I'll help you with it."

Kyoko paused, considering his words for a moment.

Makoto was completely the polar opposite of her. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and never usually hid how he felt. Even when he tried, he was usually bad at it.

His kindness and compassion for others were evident in his every action, and that was one of the many reasons why everyone who had been affected by the tragedy adored him.

Maybe there was some wisdom in that. After all, Kyoko wasn't sure how much longer she could go on keeping her feelings to herself. And she trusted Makoto with her life. She had every reason to, after all.

"If that's...really how you feel..." she lowered her eyes for a minute, brushing some hair to the side with her hand, "could you...come closer?"

"Sure," Makoto nodded, carefully moving a little closer, "is there something else you need me to look at?"

"Not quite," Kyoko replied, "I was actually thinking that I'd like to return the favor..."

She carefully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Makoto paused for a moment before he returned the gesture, as Kyoko rested her head on his shoulder.

True to her word, she didn't cry. But she did take a minute to bask in the feeling of having someone so close, a warmth she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Makoto didn't say anything back, but Kyoko didn't miss the small, comforting squeeze he gave her as they stood there, embracing each other in the secret study.

In that moment, Kyoko felt the urge to say something more.

Maybe the world wasn't ready, maybe she wasn't, or maybe it wasn't the right time. But even so, the words bubbled up inside her, and she wanted nothing more than to say them. She lifted her head, and stared into his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Sure," Makoto said again, without hesitation, knowing that this had been a long time coming.

The two moved their heads closer, and their lips met, as Kyoko's hand found its way to Makoto's hair. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and she let out a soft sigh.

After a few minutes, the two reluctantly separated, and Makoto gave a small laugh.

"So...did you just kiss me because you were grateful?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, "or was there a little more to it than that?"

"You're smart," Kyoko smirked, "I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Well, maybe you could give me a clue?" he suggested.

Kyoko thought about it, and her answer came quickly.

"It's not something that needs a reason, is it?" she said, "If two people love each other, then there's no reason not to express it. That's my opinion, at least."

Makoto blushed.

"Love?" he said, his tone incredulous, "Is that how you feel?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise," Kyoko shook her head, "you know me. I'm not the kind of person to ask something like that without meaning it. Unless the idea of your lips on mine is that revolting."

"Don't be stupid," he chuckled, pulling her in for some more.

Time passed, and eventually they broke away. Kyoko left the files where she had found them, took her cane, and they walked out of the study, locking pinkies.

"I'll definitely come back to that room later," she said, "I...think there's more I want to learn about my father."

"Me too," Makoto nodded, "just make sure you let me know next time. I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do that," Kyoko assured him.

"I know, but I want to," Makoto said, "for a few reasons of my own."

"And those are?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, for one," he listed, "I also want to learn more about Jin. And even if I didn't, I want you to know that come hell or high water, I'll be there to support your or lend you an ear if you need it. That you can lean on me if you have to."

"A fair point," she said, "but also, I hope you don't feel like you have to watch over me or worry about me. I am an independent woman, after all. You don't have to treat me like a porcelain doll."

"Oh, I know," he nodded, "it's just that...well, it's nice to have someone watching your back."

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, "sorry for being difficult. Are there any other reasons?"

"Well," he leaned in, his tone and expression surprisingly low and flirtatious for him, nuzzling his cheek against hers, "I don't think anyone else knows about that study yet. So it's nice to know there's a place we can go without getting...interrupted..."

"Psh...You dog...!" she snapped teasingly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Sun’s in My Heart, and I’m Ready for Love

Date night, a sudden rain storm, and a cuddle pile on the couch. It's just a typical night in the Hotchner household.

A one shot in my series of unrelated kissing prompts. Prompt: kissing in the rain

-x-

Hi friends,

This is very soft, and sweet, and feels right for a Friday night <3

Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

There were times when Emily found herself wishing that she and Aaron experienced their relationship in the same way, that he hadn’t done all of this before with someone else. She would wish they’d met when they were young, when he worked with her mother and she was looking for something to do whilst she was trying to figure out what she wanted to do. 

The moments were always fleeting. They would flare in her chest when they’d been planning their wedding or when she was pregnant with Violet and then Lucas. Well meaning comments from a doctor who would say ‘dad knows what he’s doing’ when he would point out Violet’s features on the ultrasound screen, or from their friends who would joke about Aaron’s first wedding, that would make her ache briefly, sadness that was too complicated to explain rolling in her gut. 

Most of the time, she loved it. She loved their family and their marriage, and how they never took neither for granted because of all they’d survived to make it here. She knew if their life had been different they wouldn’t be here now. Violet and Lucas may not exist, and Jack certainly wouldn’t, and the thought of that alone would make her nauseous. 

Sometimes she’d feel guilty for how grateful she was that she was Aaron’s second wife, that she benefited from what he’d learnt from his relationship with Haley. He was determined to do it right this time, to make sure he didn’t repeat the mistakes of his past. His enduring love for Haley very much part of his love for Emily, the glue he used to fix the cracks in his heart before he’d allowed himself to think he deserved all of this again. 

Date night was his idea. He’d floated it past her when she was heavily pregnant with Violet, her back and boobs and just about everything aching as she furrowed her brow at him and reminded him they were already married, that he didn’t need to try and woo her anymore. He’d simply smiled and kissed her, and said he would never stop trying to woo her, and suggest they did date night once a month. A few hours where they could just be them, not Mom and Dad, and celebrate and acknowledge their love for each other - the very thing that was the bedrock of their family. It had continued on since then, through the hard and long, but fleeting, early months of Violet’s life and then throughout Emily’s pregnancy with Lucas and his early life too. Now they were almost five years on from Aaron’s initial suggestion and they’d never missed a date night. There were times when they had to re-arrange, if she got a call about a case and had to leave him and the kids behind, but they never cancelled. Never said there’s always next month, because they knew there may not be, that life was unpredictable and hard, and they never wanted to take it or each other for granted. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She smiles as she turns to look at him and she squeezes his hand before she looks ahead again, sighing contentedly as she looks down the National Mall, enjoying the view she’d once had in an apartment she’d called home. They’d gone for dinner at their favourite restaurant, and instead of getting straight in their car to go home, they’d decided to go for a short walk. It was almost dark, the sky thick with grey clouds, and the chill in the early fall air made them walk as closely to each other as they could, both of their hands stuffed into the pocket of his coat. 

“I’m more than okay,” she says, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “How much sugar do you think Pen will have given the kids?” 

He laughs and runs his thumb over the heel of her hand, “More than we’d usually allow in a year I’m guessing. She always says she can’t say no to them.” 

She hums and knocks her shoulder against his, “They are very persuasive.” 

“I wonder where they get that from,” he says, his smile soft and full of love, his shoulders relaxed in a way they only ever were around her and the kids. He’d retired when Violet was born, once again keen to undo what he considered the wrongs of his past, and she could see the difference it had made in him. He was happy and relaxed in a way he’d earned, and every day she wondered if she should join him too. She didn’t need to work, not for the money, but she wasn’t ready to step away quite yet and she was grateful she was loved by a man who understood not just her but the job they’d once shared.

She chuckles and playfully shrugs, “It’s a mystery.” She stops them, her free hand reaching for his as she shifts closer to him, leaning in to stamp a kiss against his lips, “Thanks for dinner.” 

He tugs her backwards, makes sure they aren’t in the way of the other people walking the path and he pulls her closer, making a point of kissing her before he rests his forehead against hers, “You paid.”

She shrugs and kisses his cheek and then the corner of his lips, “I used the card for our joint account if that makes you feel better.” 

He smiles, and she cups his cheek, pressing her thumb against his dimple as she tugs him in for a kiss. They lose themselves in it, allowing themselves to simply be a married couple exchanging a kiss they’d shared a thousand times. She licks along the seam of his lips and sighs as he deepens the kiss, the taste of the dessert they’d shared still lingering on his tongue. 

They are both so lost in each other, so wrapped up around each other, that neither one of them hears the crack of thunder above their heads. She pulls back when she feels rain drop onto her head and she looks at him, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Was it supposed to rai-”

She’s cut off as the heavens open and rain pours on them, drawing surprised laughs from them both as Aaron tightens his hand around hers as they half-run back in the direction they’d come from. 

“Come on, otherwise we’ll get soaked,” he says, making sure they keep pace with each other, both of them slowed down a little by the heels she’d worn and the wet floor. 

“I think that ship has sailed, honey,” she shouts over the roar of the rain, unable to stop herself from laughing, the strange, simple, joy of it outweighing the feeling of her hair sticking to her neck. She stops, her hand pulling at his as he turns to look at her, his brow furrowed, and she pulls him into a kiss, their lips almost slipping past each other as they taste the rain on each other's skin. 

“Em,” he chuckles as he pulls back, “We need to go, we’ll get sick.” 

“I know,” she replies, her fingers slipping against his skin as he grabs his chin to hold him in place for one last second and she leans in to kiss him, “I just wanted to kiss you in the rain.” 

He smiles at her, the same smile he’d passed on to all of their children, and he quickly stamps his lips against hers, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

___

He puts the heat on full blast in the car, his smile soft as he sees Emily place her hands right over the vents to try and warm up her fingers. 

Penelope frowns at them as they step into the house, her head tilted to the side as they close the door behind them, a shiver running through them as the warmth of their home contrasts with the chill of their wet clothes stuck against their skin. 

“Did you swim home?” 

Emily chuckles and grimaces as she takes her jacket off, “We got caught in the rain when we were walking after dinner.”

“Oh,” she says, placing her hands over her heart, “That’s so romantic.” 

“It won’t be if we get a cold,” Aaron quips as he takes Emily’s jacket from her, “How were the kids?” 

“Angels as always,” she replies, “We made cupcakes. Well, Jack and I did. Vi and Luke helped decorate and eat frosting. They are all in bed.” 

Emily hums, barely containing a shiver as she crosses her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself up, “And how much frosting did you let my toddlers eat just before bed?” 

Penelope’s eyes go wide, “I plead the fifth.”

Emily chuckles, a sound punctuated by her teeth chattering, and Aaron places his hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you go get changed, sweetheart?” 

She nods and smiles at her friend, her eyebrow raised jokingly “If they don’t sleep, I’m bringing them over to yours to spend the night,” she smiles, “Thanks for looking after them Pen.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, you know I love spending time with the Mini Hotchs.” 

Emily’s too cold to argue with the nickname for once, and she heads upstairs, making sure she’s as quiet as possible as she walks past the kid's bedrooms. She dumps her wet clothes on the floor in the bathroom and changes into a pair of leggings and a sweater that once belonged to Aaron. She’d stolen it from him when she was pregnant, and it had been hers ever since. He wore it occasionally still under her instruction so it still smelt like him, and it made her smile. It was as if bits of him were stitched through the soft material, pressed into the softness of it as it rests against her skin. She throws her hair into a loose ponytail to get it off her neck, and she’s already dreading having to wash it in the morning as she heads back downstairs looking for her husband, her wet clothes in her hands so she can stick them straight in the washer. 

She finds Aaron in the laundry room, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweater that hadn’t made it back up to their room yet. She passes him her clothes and smiles as he puts them in the washer alongside his. 

“I’ll put it on in the morning,” he says, his hand looping around her waist, “Otherwise it might wake up-”

“Mommy? Daddy?” 

Emily smiles at the sound of their daughter’s voice, and her excellent timing, and she kisses Aaron quickly before she steps out of the laundry room. 

“Vi,” she says, her smile getting wider when she spots the three, almost four, year old in the hallway, her hair rumpled and her favourite toy dragging on the floor next to her, “We’re right here.” 

“Mama!” She says, running towards her, her arms in the air as she throws herself at her, “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too, baby,” Emily replies, stamping several kisses against her cheek as she lifts her and settles the little girl on her hip, “You should be sleeping though.” 

“Not tired.” 

Aaron walks over and wraps his arm around them both, “Hi princess.” 

“Hi, Daddy.” 

He kisses her forehead, “You should be sleeping.” 

“Not tired.” 

“Not tired.”

Emily and Violet say in unison, their matching dark eyes sparkling with mischief as they smile at him. Emily smiles at him, and he already knows the plan of attack of how to get their daughter back to bed. Ever since she was small she’d insist she wasn’t tired. Even as a baby, she’d fight sleep, her eyes wide as she looked around the room, desperate to be a part of whatever was going on. But as soon as she laid her head against Emily’s chest, as soon as she was snuggled against her mother and was warm and cosy, she’d drift off. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Okay, why don’t we go sit down on the couch for a little while? But we’ll have to be quiet, otherwise we’ll wake up-”

“Mom, Dad,” Jack says, appearing in the hallway, “When did you get home?” 

Emily presses her lips together as Aaron sighs, clearing her throat to hide her amusement, “Not that long ago, sweetie.”

Jack furrows his brows and tilts his head, “Why do you both have wet hair?” 

“We got caught in the rain,” Emily says, stepping towards him and adjusting her hold on Viole so she can wrap an arm around Jack’s shoulders, “We were actually just about to go snuggle on the couch to warm up until Vi gets tired enough to sleep,” she says, winking at her eldest, smiling when he immediately catches on, “Want to join us?” 

He nods, and she’s grateful for it, forever dreading the day he’d no longer think his parents were cool. She never wanted him to grow out of being the little boy who loved hugs and spending time with her, but she knew he had to grow up. She knew that part of the privilege of being his mom was preparing him, and his brother and sister, for going out into the world, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

They are just about to settle onto the couch, blankets thrown over their laps as they snuggle together when they hear a cry from upstairs. 

“‘ucas can’t get down himself, he too little,” Violet says, her eyebrows furrowed as she rests her head against Emily’s chest, her thumb in between her teeth. Jack settles against Emily’s side, his head on her shoulder, and Aaron sighs lovingly, already standing back up even though he’d barely sat down. Both Emily and Aaron were grateful Lucas hadn’t mastered climbing out of his crib yet because they knew their home would descend into even more beautiful chaos the moment the 18-month-old figured out how to. Aaron winks at Emily and he squeezes her thigh, making sure the blankets are wrapped around the three of them before he steps away. 

“I’ll go get him,” he says, “You three stay here and snuggle.”

“We’re good at snuggling, huh?” Emily says, tugging Jack closer and stamping a kiss against Violet’s forehead, unsurprised to find the little girl was already looking sleepy, “Lukey needs to come join us,” she rests her cheek against the top of Violet’s head and looks at her eldest, “Did you have fun with Aunt Pen, honey?” 

Jack nods and smiles, “We baked. And she let me lick the frosting bowl.” 

Emily hums and runs her fingers through his hair, “I bet she did.” 

“Did you and Dad have fun?” 

She smiles, thinking of dinner, the time spent just the two of them already feeling like it was days ago, not just an hour or so, and she nods, “Yeah, it was really fun. We missed you guys though.” 

“We missed you too,” Jack replies, snuggling against her, his cheek warm against her shoulder through the material of her sweater. 

Aaron walks into the room, a wide awake Lucas on his hip, his little head resting against his father’s shoulder. He was a mini Aaron, right down to the tiny dimples in his cheeks, and it made Emily ache, her gut always twisting at the sight of them together as they both smile at her, 

“Room for two more on the Hotchner family cuddle pile?” 

She nods and pulls back the blanket so Aaron can sit down, Jack sandwiched between them, and Violet on her lap and Lucas on his, and she thinks she might prefer this to date night anyway. 

“Always.”  

[chaotic-nick]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊[actor au! bf! Yuuji x reader] ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Plot: Yuuji’s got two instagram accounts— his public account, and his ‘normal’ one. He’s got two loves, too. And he’s made a mistake that night.

Tags/ warnings: none - actor au – sukuna is his twin - established relationship 

wordcount: 678

note: psst here's another fic where Yuuji's an actor, could be set in the same universe too.

Yuuji’s tired eyes held awe as he watched his fiancee sat on the floor with her back against the couch’s frame. He fought the sleep coming, persisting that he’d watch (Y/n) coo at the kitten asleep on the palm of her hand. “It’s so tiny” She repeatedly said to herself, unable to process that such a creature could be so small.

“But,” he decided he’d join her on the floor, arm rested on the seat. “You’re the cutest, right?”

His excitement to tell her about finding them cuddled together in the studio’s costume department was interrupted by his twin yelling, “Disgusting!” as he walked past them. In Sukuna’s breast pocket was a black cat with white spots on its eyes. “Mine’s cuter than yours/”

She’d torn her gaze away from the cat, and followed Sukuna as he walked to the hallway. Cat— no, cats never leaving the warmth of his breastpocket.“Are you keeping the cats?” (Y/n) turned to Yuuji.

“Mhm,” his fatigue wearing off, Yuuji secretly pulled out his phone. Already open to its camera app. “She looks like you—”

Wide-eyed, she looked up to Yuuji, then to the cat, perfectly being captured on the camera. “It’s a she?”

“Right? I thought it was all male kitties at first and then Shoko-san played doctor and actually looked at them. She and Gojo-san took the momma-cat away, no one really knew what to do with the kitty-lets. ”

“In a human scenario, that’s scary.”

“And you’d be petting a fetus.”

“Fetus?” Even wider, her eyes stared at Yuuji. Mouth agape. As if her loving boyfriend din’t effortlessly say things that disturbed his own twin.

“Fetus.” He confirmed. Arms up in the air, waving to emphasize his point. “It’s tiny enough to be fetus-sized if you put it in human terms.”

Nodding, (Y/n) looked at the kitten. 

“Ahh, makes . . . sense.” It didn’t. 

“Yuu, what’s her name gonna be?”

“She looks like you—”

“That would be an insult, Yuu.”

“Yuu don’t see yourself sleeping.”

“I’ll take her with me to taping when we can’t be together.”

“Ahh . . . how about,” pretending to be in deep thought, and oblivious to the camera taking candid shots of the two of them, she looked up to the ceiling. “men-men?”

His hand hovered at his phone when he caught her eyes drifting to it with a suspicious look. “Men-men?”

“Mhm, like the ramen we used to eat after classes, remember?”

“Ah! Saiko Ramen!” Tapping open his private Instagram profile, Yuuji didn’t bother looking at the pictures he had taken and chose all the ones where she smiled. “We should eat there when we visit your parents.” 

“Then get the men-men special! Hold her, I’m gonna prepare for bed.”

“I got the meat special back then.”

“You always do. Here,” she put the cat on his knee, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

‘My love with my little love’ he hurriedly typed. “Baaabe, thought we were gonna wash up together?”

“I can put men-men next to Sukuna’s kittens!” And posted the compilation of tonight’s pictures without a second look. He was sure that it was open to his private Instagram anyway.

Or so he thought.

2.30 pm

Tokyo Buzz: Itadori Yuuji reveals rumoured long-term non-celebrity girlfriend in casual Instagram post.

“Oh my god,” he let out when the realisation settled in his mind. As if losing all feeling throughout his body, Yuuji could only hang his head down, and covered his face in his hands, “Shit, shit, shit.” Scared that even his whispers would wake (Y/n) up in his room.

Sukuna tried to reassure him with, “Be thankful it wasn’t your dick out in the open.”

“How do I fix this?”

“Delete it.” It’s what he did when his dick was out to the world.

“No,” Yuuji shook his head, cupping his chin. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna looked at the profile, seeing the comment box that Yuuji kept open for his friends to see— their friends—begin filling up with fanclub pages and fangirls. All of them crying over how they lost the ‘nation’s boyfriend’. “You do that before I do something.”