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amusedyan · 4 years ago

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Labyrinthian

This fucking thing has been the source of my fucking writer’s block for months and I FINALLY GOT THIS THING FINISHED!

Featuring cryptic Trickster Eldritch Labyrinth god Dazai

The labyrinth was unending, unyielding. The walls themselves so tall that you had to crane your neck to see the sky- it had gone dark, and the stars? Forget it. You would be so lucky to see stars in this hell.

When the king had called for a sacrifice, you had been one of the many offered. Dressed in white for the offering, and forcefully purified, you had been let loose in the labyrinth, fodder for the creature inside. Because of your sacrifice, the headman had said, you thought venomously, the kingdom would be safe, the monster sated for one more year.

And what of the next year?

“Short sighted bastards,” you spat on the ground and marched forward. Marched to your death, maybe. Probably even. But you had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you gave in, then fear and hopelessness would overcome you.

You didn’t want to die. But if you had a choice, then you’d rather die on your feet than in a crouch, crying in despair.

Already it was at your heels, following you. As you alternately hurried, walked, marched or sprinted through the stone paths you would find horrible mementos of the past sacrifices- bones, dried and flaking blood, severed limbs or shredded clothes, similar to what you wore. You prayed over each other them- not to the gods who had trapped that Thing here, but to the souls of your predecessors. May they be at rest and free from pain, fear, and the machinations of the living and immortal.

The Thing in the labyrinth was a god. Was, but now he was an immortal thing with the human hunger, cast down by the pantheon and sealed here.

Your stomach growled uncomfortably.

There wasn’t much to be done about that, though- you had been given limited rations, and you wanted to make them last, unappetizing as they were.

So on you went- with no direction and no way to mark where you’d been.

But time dragged on, and eventually your anger and your fear fled, and you had nothing but hunger, thirst, and exhaustion waiting for you and slowing you down.

It wasn’t fair, you thought. The despair had caught up with you, and you could feel your eyes burning. “I’ll save my tears,” you muttered, rounding a corner. By now you were leaning on a wall. If the monster found you, you would die for sure.

But instead of more endless stone walls, you saw trees, and water. For an absurd moment, you thought that you had found the way out. But as you stepped into the clearing, you saw more walls around it, and you understood.

This was a garden.

But it was a garden, and that meant water and hopefully food, so that was something.

You drank from the water until you threw up, and then drank some more. The water was cold and clear, and you had never tasted something so sweet in your life. You dipped your feet in to calm the ache next and closed your eyes. You couldn’t relax, but you could rest here.

It felt safe, like the air itself had taken a moment to let itself go.

“How could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place?” You wondered out loud.

When your feet grew numb, you began to look for food. And, luckily, you didn’t have to look long.

“Fruit trees,” you breathed in wonder. All of them were fruit trees.

You’d never been much of a tree climber as a kid, but hunger bred desperation, and like a monkey you were scrabbling up and up to the first stable branch.

You ate 3 apples and dropped some more to the ground before climbing down, more carefully than you had climbed up. Your belly full and your thirst quenched, you finally succumbed and fell asleep beneath the tree. And no matter your intentions, it was a deep sleep, dreamless and dark.

-x-

You woke, completely relaxed under a late morning sky.

The sky?

And more than that- there was a smell

The smell of apples cooking.

When you raised your head you saw a young man wearing the white garb of the sacrificed. He was bandaged, but he still smiled when he caught your eye.

“You’re up.” He waved, and you found yourself wandering over. “Sorry, I just saw the garden and I was so hungry. Did I scare you?”

“No.” And it was the truth. “I didn’t see you with the other sacrifices.”

“There are several gates.” He shrugged. “One in each of the cardinal directions. I came in the West.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Your expression hardened. “If all the food comes in the same gate then the meal is all at once and the sacrifices would have to be more than once a year.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Here, I roasted a few for you, too.” He handed you a spit on which two apples were speared.

“Thank you,” you took them gratefully, and introduced yourself.

His name was Dazai, he told you. He was from a port kingdom. Over breakfast he described the sea and the ships, and you listened eagerly. Before the sacrifice, you’d never been anywhere but your home village and the market.

“Have you seen anyone besides me?” You asked, despite yourself. It felt like a cloud had passed over you both, and you shivered involuntarily.

Dazai looked down at the fire and sighed. “No one alive,” he said very quietly.

“I…was afraid of that.” You admitted, and you both went quiet. You ate your apples while they were still warm.

After awhile, Dazai cleared his throat and you looked t him again.

“Would you like to run with me?” He invited.

The idea…wasn’t a horrible one, in all honesty. In the very least, you thought darkly, you could trip him up and use him as a distraction if you were found by the monster. But more than that, you wanted company.

The two of you filled your respective waterskins and packed away as many apples as you could carry. Dazai took some of the charcoal from the dead fire. “We can mark our way with it.” He explained. It was a risk, but a calculated one; if you knew which direction you had come from then the monster surely could as well.

You and Dazai began to walk and you felt much more relaxed with someone at your side. It was as like the labyrinth itself was cleansed. It wasn’t as scary with someone else, you decided.

For lack of anything better to do, you compared notes on the creature in the labyrinth.

“My home says that the gods cast him down for his cruelty,” you recounted. “They sealed him here- once you’re in, you can’t escape.” You swallowed nervously. “But that part can’t be true. There has to be another way out.”

“He wasn’t a god,” Dazai scoffed as you backtracked, marking on the wall that the passage was a dead end. “He came Before the pantheon.”

You frowned. “There was a before?”

“Honestly,” he sounded s disappointed. “What are they teaching people nowadays. Yes, there was a before. The Old Ones were first, and when the New rose, there was war. The Labyrinth God weighed his options and helped overthrow his people.”

“Why would he betray the Old Ones?” You wondered. “Wouldn’t he have loyalty for his people?”

“It wasn’t about loyalty.” Like he was explaining things to a child, Dazai broke it down. “You have to look at the bigger picture- there was a war and it had to end. The Labyrinth God looked at the outcomes and made a sacrifice for the lesser damage.”

“And it made him cruel?”

“No. It made him a liability. They cast him out, stripped him of his divinity and created the labyrinth. And here we are.” He squinted up at the sky. “Well, at least we don’t have to deal with straight sunlight,” he grumbled.

But something made you suspicious. “How do you know so much about it? I thought you came from a port town?”

“I do. But my family were scholars.” He shrugged.

“Oh. And they just…surrendered you?”

“Well, it was only me. And it wasn’t like they liked me much to begin with.” He chuckled, and you felt a momentary stab of both guilt and pity. You had people on the outside to get back to, and Dazai just…didn’t want to die here.

Well, maybe you could bring him back with you.

But you didn’t voice that idea, you weren’t stupid. A. you didn’t want to offend him, and B. You didn’t really trust him, not just yet.

So on and on you walked. More than once you hit dead ends and had to go back, or somehow circled back around. Several times you swore you heard the growling of the god in question. Those times bot you and Dazai froze and listened, pressed against the wall, trying to judge just how far away it was. The final time, the ground shook as it passed by the next passage over, and you could feel a scream welling up in your throat.

But it passed, and you both waited and waited for ages before going on, slowly and silently, all talk gone.

That night there was another garden, this one more lovely than the night before, with animals and birds. The lake was a little river, and again you both refreshed and rested yourselves. There were pear trees this time, and pomegranates. All the fruit was delicious raw, but there was something satisfying about cooking them and eating them warm.

“Gosh the stars are pretty,” you observed, leaning back. Across the fire, Dazai looked up and softened at the sight of them.

“Yeah. They are.”

You both slept, huddled together for warmth as the fire died.

-x-

And on the third day, the environment of the labyrinth changed. The stones themselves were different, and the walls…

“It’s almost welcoming,” you breathed in wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dazai reached out and touched the stone experimentally.

Remarlably, you found yourself led to some stairs. Stairs, of all things. Up and up you both walked. Why hadn’t you seen any sign of this in the labyrinth?

At the top of the staircase, you saw a palace.

You could smell food now, and your stomach growled for food that wasn’t just roasted fruit.

“Hungry?” Dazai elbowed you playfully.

“A little,” you nudged him back.

There was something strange about all this, you realized, but you were curious. “Let’s investigate.” Dazai declared, leading the way.

The palace was lit and clean, incense scented the air. It was lived in, clearly.

“Is this the monster’s home?” It was so…civilized. What sort of prison was this? One filled with art and delicate vases and décor.

You both followed the smell of food through gardens and rooms and halls, finally finding tables already laid.

“It’s like a celebration.”

Why was your heart pounding?

There was a terrible growl and you froze.

It was here.

“Relax,” Dazai laughed, picking up a goblet. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Are you insane?” You snapped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s here- it’ll eat us Dazai, we have to move!” This was a horrible idea, what had possessed you to come inside like this?

The palace shook under Its footsteps, you were running out of time.

He’d gone insane, clearly, but could you really just abandon him to his fate here?

Yes.

Your survival…

You ran in the other direction, and Dazai’s wild laughter was as loud as the growling, snarling, howling beast that you were trying to flee.

Deeper into It’s lair you ran, your lungs on fire. You didn’t think about Dazai, because it didn’t matter. One foot in front of the other, you ignored everything. There had to be a way out of the palace, a way out.

You burst into a garden in full bloom, but no sooner had you registered that it was grass beneath your feet then you lost your footing, and you fell. And it was hard. Dazed, you lay there, shaking. It was behind you- you could smell the crackle of ozone, hear the footsteps.

But then what you heard was clapping.

“You did so well,” Dazai singsonged, patting you on the shoulder. “I had so much fun. But the game is over, darling, and I think that I want to claim my prize.”

You looked up at him and tried to process just what the hell he was talking about over the racing of your heart.

“Your…prize?”

His kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, eager and impatient.

“You ran and I gave chase. It’s the first time a sacrifice has become more than a meal.”

“What…what am I then?”

“Mine. And there will never be another.”

#yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu

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goddessofmischief · 4 years ago

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Blue Monday, Chapter Six - Loki x T.V.A.! Reader

Chapter Six: Blood and Blade

...Asgard, some years ago...

“Amora!” teenage Thor shouted, tossing her a sword. “Train with me!”

She grinned, picking the weapon up and obliging, while teenage Loki glowered on the sidelines. He hated seeing them together, because he could always hear the whispers that accompanied it, even if there weren’t any.

They’re perfect...

He loves her...

She’ll be queen, someday...

Trying to breathe around the lump in his throat, he reacted, too distracted by his own pettiness to have care for anything else. And when he reached out his hand, the sword Amora was presently using to pin Thor to the ground transformed into a serpent.

“Ow!” she shouted, stepping away from it. “What?” asked Thor. “What, what’s wrong?” She shook her head.

“Nothing, it just... it bit me.”

Thor kicked the snake away, and she laughed, slightly, waving her hand over the bite on her arm and using magic to remove the venom.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders. It was a brotherly action, Loki conceded. He saw that now. There hadn’t been anything between them, at all.

“Yes,” she said, smiling, slightly, her face trembling. “Yes, I’m fine.” Thor still looked confused as to what had happened, and Loki prayed that Amora wouldn't connect the dots, either - but she gave him a withering glance as she passed by, and he knew that she had.

He set down his book, following her to the wooded area where they sometimes went for walks.

“Amora!”

She didn’t turn around. “Amora, I didn’t mean it-”

She stopped in her tracks, and he caught up to her.

“You’re... crying,” said Loki, sort-of awkwardly.

Amora raised her blue sleeve to her face, drying her eyes, and she swallowed.

“I’m not.” “I saw you, love. You can’t lie to me. Thor, maybe, that wouldn't be so difficult-” “Fine. I was crying. I... I just...” Amora raised her face to look at him, and he felt frozen, made guilty by her red eyes. “We used to be... we used to be friends. Why d’you hate me?”

“I... don’t.”

Amora scoffed. collapsing on a tree stump.

“Then why do you send snakes after me? Or transform my sword, when I’m trying to train? Or... even little things, like using magic to tug my hair during ceremonies. Or avoid me. It seems like you’re always avoiding me.”

“...Yeah.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why, are you?” Loki sat down, cross-legged, next to her.

“Do you really want me to?” Amora nodded.

“...Yeah.”

He swallowed.

“It’s only because I love you,” he managed, fighting around the lump in his throat. “That’s... that’s why.” He took note of her confused expression, looking away. He was about to stand up again and walk away, but she reached over, grabbing his hand.

“...Why?”

“Because, you’re...” he struggled to find the right words. “You’re really... really... beautiful.” Amora looked hurt, almost. Disappointed.

“And... that’s it? That’s all there is?”

He tried, desperately, to think of what Thor would say. He’d know what to do.

“Well... what else is there?” If she looked hurt before, she was devastated now. Her hands crossed over her chest, and she turned, as if she was about to walk away.

It was at that moment that it really sunk in. She didn’t care what Thor would do.

She wanted to know what he would do.

“No,” Loki said, reaching out to her. “Truthfully, no. I didn’t mean that.”

“Tell me the truth, then.”

He gulped.

“I care for you because... because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who makes me feel not-so-lonely. I’m happier, with you. Different. You make me different.” She reached over, then, and kissed him, softly. “Don’t be too different, okay?” “Never,” he promised. “Let’s just... swear to stay the same, forever?” “Oh, I swear.”

Just then, he woke up.

...Alone.

...

It had been three days since the last mission.

You felt broken.

Loki had noticed.

You were upset with yourself, mostly. Upset that you couldn’t let it go - but even more upset that you’d let yourself become attached. You’d only known the female Loki for moments.

Even still... you were sure that you had loved her. You knew that.

“Agent?”

It was Mobius, standing in your doorway.

You cleared your throat.

“...Yes?”

Please don’t be a new mission, you thought, your heart pounding. Please, please-

"I think it’d be best if you underwent some training. Trained Odinson, as well.” You nodded, feeling relieved. “Of course,” you agreed, standing up and following him down the hallway.

Loki waited for you.

Of course.

You knew he felt guilty about how things had gone. Not that he regretted killing Lady Loki - he didn’t seem to. But he regretted your part in it.

And he still had his doubts that you could even tolerate him now that he was responsible for death of the woman you had fallen in love with.

So he’d kept his distance, for now.

“I’m here to train you, right?”

“Yes,” Loki said, “...But not only. Mobius has been made aware of the last mission’s... fate. He believes you should be trained with a weapon you could defend yourself with. From other supernatural beings, from... me.” “Alternate versions of you, you mean?” “Hopefully, yes. But you never know. People who liked me have tried to kill me before.”

“I never said I liked you, Odinson,” you said, teasing for the first time in awhile.

“You never said you didn’t, either - now, we’re going to have to get you acquainted with a few different weapons, so you know your options. Try these.”

Loki passed you his daggers.

“Here, hold them like this-”

You shrank away.

“What?” he asked, sounding vaguely offended. “What, you don’t like them?” You shook your head, slowly.

“The... weight doesn’t feel right in my hands,” you offered, trying to come up with an excuse. What else could you say? The truth, that you didn’t want to wield the same weapon that had killed female Loki? Could you say that, without hurting your Loki?

He nodded, taking your words as the truth.

“Have you tried a staff?” “A... a couple times. I’m clumsy with it.”

Loki hesitated, almost imperceptibly.

“...Sword?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and something familiar, yet new echoed through you.

Sword. Yes.

You wanted a sword.

“...How did you know...?”

“Amora used a sword,” he admitted, bluntly. “Though you couldn’t exactly wield hers... it was a powerful thing, really, called Kursebreaker - the long blade of the damned.”

“Kursebreaker?” “Yes, well... we were a little obsessed with fairytales back then. The Kursed were a breed of Dark Elf - well, they were. All the dark elves are dead, now. Nothing to worry about there. But Odin had loved to scare us with the stories - my mother, not so much. She’s terrified of them.”

Even though you were upset with him, you loved hearing Loki talk, no matter what the subject.

But listening to him speak about Asgard was nothing short of magical.

“Then again, Kursebreaker is gone.”

“Gone?”

“She was set off with it. At her funeral. That’s a thing Asgardians do... we bury our dead by casting them off waterfalls. It’s peaceful, really - of course, I can hardly remember it. I was well and truly drunk.”

You hadn’t known for sure before that his Amora was dead - you’d thought perhaps she had disappeared, or cast him aside. Somehow, there was something even more terrifying about living up to the standard set by a dead woman.

“ I can’t ever imagine you being a drunk,” you said, trying to tease and lighten the mood. “...Even on Asgard.” “Well, I wasn't. But I had begun being so many things I hadn’t been before she left us, I figured... why not add another? And it was only for the week of her funeral, anyhow. My father - Odin... had never liked the idea of us, had expected her as a wife for Thor. He spent most of the time around her burial trying to convince me that I would have been better with someone else. He didn’t understand. I didn’t... want anyone else. I still don’t.”

Loki swallowed, and you knew you were hearing all of this as a form of apology for the mission.

“Anyhow,” he spoke, clearing his throat and withdrawing a thin sword from seemingly nowhere, “You’ll need this. I want you to fight me with it.” “Fight you?” “You’ve never fenced before, and I have to see your form. See how hopeless you are at it.”

“...Hey!” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s alright, no one starts out good. Well, I did.” “Maybe I will, too,” you countered, assuming what you thought was a good fencing position. “What is that? What in Hel are you doing?” You shrugged, waving the sword, carelessly.

“I’m preparing to fence? ...I think?” “No, no, no,” he muttered, walking toward you. “No, this just won’t do - stand like me.” “I’m trying, Loki!”

“Don’t be difficult, now - I’m not going through this again...”

“What, do all your students give you trouble?” “Amora did.”

...

She was talented.

Amora, in recent memory, had been nothing. Which is why their friendship had always made sense to him - he felt close to being nothing, too.

And, since she had been nothing, just an orphan girl that Odin had rescued from a village in Vanaheim and given a home in the palace, she was absolutely miserable at fighting. Miserable at it.

To others, this was acceptable. She wasn’t meant for much else than a symbol of Asgard’s great kindness, how they’d taken in some pathetic girl, a girl who if Odin wanted it, would someday be the people’s princess, and then their queen. She was a sad story. A convenience of war. Someone Thor mostly ignored, someone Sif hated. No matter how good a warrior Sif was, as long as Amora was Odin’s chosen, Sif could never have Thor. No matter how kind or noble, Sif could never beat out the sob story of the poor little orphan.

To Loki, she was simply his best friend. The only person who ever spoke to him, or laughed at his jokes, or stood beside him at ceremonies.

But she was tiny, and frail, and easy to be picked on. That was completely unacceptable to him. He himself had experience with being pushed around from an early age, so he’d trained. Every bone in his body was a weapon, especially his mind. He could be outmuscled, sure, but never outmaneuvered.

Amora, he knew, shared many of these same traits. She lacked a certain cruelness that he prized, but he saw her become occasionally savage. He’d appeal to that instinct, draw it out. “Again,” he said, tapping his own sword on the ground. “Again.”

"Loki,” Amora groaned, struggling to get up. “We’ve gone five rounds-” “And I intend to keep going until you win. Again.”

...

"Again!” Loki shouted at you, and you could swear a rib was broken. Around your fourth dueling loss, something seemed to have snapped inside of him. He’d become manic, unhinged. He’d pushed you to limits you didn’t even know you had. Training had begun slowly, but he’d gotten to the point of even throwing obstacles at you with magic. He seemed to have forgotten, in his fever, that you didn’t have magic to defend yourself with.

It had to stop.

He was going to kill you.

“I said,” he yelled, running at you, “Again!”

You ducked, a curl of your hair cut off by the blade. You supposed you should have considered yourself lucky it wasn’t a finger, or your arm entirely.

“Loki, stop-” He knocked the sword from your hands, kicking you to the ground. “Yield.”

“I yield! I yield, okay!”

“Again.”

“I can’t!” “Yes, you can! I intend to keep going until you win!”

You took up your sword again, readying yourself.

Again, he trapped you. You were struggling, trying to escape the chokehold he had you in.

“Yield,” he insisted, and you tried to breathe long enough to get the word out.

“I... y...”

“Yield!” He wouldn’t really kill you, you thought, blood rushing to your head.

Would he? Loki seemed to have forgotten that he was fighting you, a Midgardian. Maybe on Asgard, this was training for beginners.

“I yield,” you choked out, and he released you.

“Again, Amora!”

The words escaped his mouth before he could think them, and all at once, you saw his face fall. He collapsed to the ground.

“Loki?” you whispered, timidly, approaching him and wondering if this was an elaborate sneak attack. If it was, he had no need for one. You hadn’t won a match yet.

...Oh.

He was crying.

You knelt down to his level.

“Hey, Loki,” you said, clutching your injured rib with one hand and taking his hand with the other, “I’m really okay, it’s not so bad-”

He shook his head.

“What have I done,” he spoke, quietly, looking at your bruised figure.

“I’m okay.” “I could have killed you.”

“I kinda thought you would, for a minute,” you admitted. He didn’t respond.

“Promise me you’ll be looked over? By... do you have healers here?”

“Yeah, we do - but Loki, can't you heal people?” “No. Not me.”

Loki wrenched his hand from yours, and without another word, he turned his back to you, retreating to his rooms.

...

Taglist:

gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader @sserpente @tripleyeeet

#loki x reader #loki x reader angst #loki #loki disney+#loki imagine #blue monday #loki blue monday #blue monday by jules #jules writes #amora #loki x amora #amora the enchantress #loki and amora #thor

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shortprince-cos · 5 years ago

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The Woes Of An Emo

Summary: He can have one brain cell. As a treat. Also, y'all knew I couldn't resist angst for this long.

Warnings: A little bit of anxiety, off-screen kissing, not much money(?). Tell me if I need to add anything else!

{Masterlist} {Previous}

Chapter 6: Let's All Run From Our Problems, Shall We?

"Patton!" Roman called. "Why don't we go get ice cream for everyone while Virgil checks out?"

Patton debated it in his head for a second before responding. "Ok! What does everyone want?"

"I'll take a dark chocolate." Virgil requested while handing a five dollar bill to Patton to pay for his order.

"A vanilla, please." Logan handed Roman a ten.

"Alright! Let's begin our journey, Patton!" Roman linked arms with Patton and ventured out of the Hot Topic store.

Virgil immediately looked to Logan. "So what's that about?"

Logan flushed. "Wh- ahem- what do you mean?" He cleared his throat nervously.

"That was pretty out of the blue and strange, and you are definitely acting sus."

" 'Sus' is not a word-"

"What's your plan? To ditch me? Cause if that's your plan you can just tell me to leave-"

Logan put a hand on Virgil's shoulder, and for a moment Virgil thought he was about to die.

"Virgil, you invited us. If we didn't want to hang out with you, we wouldn't have come, ok?"

Virgil let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Ok." He sighed. "Then what is the plan?"

Logan turned red again. "Oh- um- well- I just wanted to um- surprise Patton with the plush he wanted, so- uh- Roman took him away to distract him." Logan explained nervously.

Virgil smirked. "Oh? Do you...like Patton?"

Logan turned towards the shelf where the Pusheen plush was. "Lets just get the plush and check out." Virgil chuckled as he followed.

---

"Here's your change." The cashier said as he handed Roman some pennies.

"Thank you, sir!" Roman graciously took the three pennies and joined Patton at the bench he was sitting at next to the ice cream stand.

"Your ice cream, my good sir." Roman dramatically handed Patton a superman ice cream cone with sprinkles on it.

"But- I didn't order any!" Patton protested.

"C'mon Patton, I saw the way you looked while ordering everyone else's!"

"Well- I-I can't pay you back-"

"I'm not asking you to." Roman continued to hand the ice cream to Patton, which Patton took reluctantly.

"Thanks." He said with a small smile.

"No problem, Padre. I mean, I can't count how many times you helped me with practicing my lines, or baking snacks for the musical cast, or even just coming to all our musicals, despite not having any friends in them! This is really the least I could do!"

Patton nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah gee, it wasn't that big of a deal! ...But thank you."

Roman took a sip of his milkshake. "Speaking of," he said with his mouth full. "why did you come to all the musicals? It's not like you knew anyone that well in the cast. We basically only talked when I needed something, and I'm pretty sure the rest of the cast did the same."

Patton's face went a little pinker. "Oh- well, uh- I just...like supporting you guys!"

Roman smirked. "Patton Hart, do I sense a lie?"

Patton panicked. "What?! No, of course not! Why would I lie about that?!"

Roman only smirked more and leaned closer. "Because someone there is really important to you?"

Patton's entire face went red. "I- well, I don't know if that's the only reason-"

"Aha!" Roman laughed. "He admits it! Who was it? No, who is it?"

"N-No one!"

"C'mon Patton, this is a safe space! I won't tell! But if you want I could totally help you!" He offered excitedly.

Patton thought about it for a second before sighing. "Islogan." He mumbled.

"Sorry, Pat, I didn't quite catch that." He said in a teasing tone.

"ITS LOGAN! I LIKE LOGAN!" Patton exclaimed.

"You do?" Suddenly Logan was a couple of feet from the bench they were sitting at, definitely hearing what Patton had said.

"Uh-" Patton practically shoved his ice cream into Roman's hands, quickly sat up and r a n.

"Oh sh-" Logan took off after him, leaving Roman and Virgil with extra ice cream and concerned faces.

"Um, I think we should let them sort that out." Roman said.

"Are you sure? What if Logan doesn't find Patton?"

"Logan took track in middle school and he still sticks to diets and work-outs. I think he'll be fine." Roman explained. "Besides, he'd probably run ten miles just for Patton to smile, so."

"Right, right." Virgil nervously sat down next to Roman, hoping that this wouldn't be awkward.

"So, what'd you get, Hot Topic?" Roman askee, pointing to Virgil's big bag.

"Aww, you think I'm hot." Virgil teased before he could stop himself. He said that with Princey one time, and it's become an inside joke for them.

Roman chuckled. "Indeed I do. Is that a problem?"

Virgil flushed a bit. "Only if you make it one." He flirted back. Wait, flirted?

"Oh?" Roman leaned in a little closer, and by little, Virgil means that wow his lips looked super soft. "Would you like me to make it a problem?" He asked, dropping his voice lower unfairly.

Virgil's face went redder. "I-" Virgil's phone started ringing. Thank god, Virgil didn't know if he liked where that was going or not, and he didn't want to find out either.

"S-Sorry I have to take this." Virgil quickly stood and walked a few steps away before answering. "H-Hello?"

"Hey, Virge! Just wondering if you're doing ok, I haven't heard from you for awhile." Emile said.

Virgil sighed in relief apon hearing his father. "Hey, Dad. Yeah, I'm doing good. Just eating ice cream right now."

"Oh good! How are your friends?" Ah. He was worried about him. "Everything going fine?"

"Uh-" Virgil glanced towards the direction Patton and Logan ran in, still not seeing them. "Yeah. Everyone's fine. We're having fun."

Emile sighed a little on the other side of the phone. "Good. Did you spend all your money yet?"

Virgil chuckled. "Ha ha. Very funny. But no, I still have some."

Emile chuckled as well. "That's really good. I'm happy for you, Virge."

"C'mon Dad, don't get all emotional on me now."

Emile laughed a little. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you be then. Call if you need anything!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too, Virgil." And with that, they hung up, and Virgil was left alone with Roman again.

Virgil sat next to Roman again, when this time Roman's phone dinged.

Roman gasped as he looked at the message. "It's Logan."

"What?" Virgil leaned over Roman to look at Logan's text. "What does it say?"

" 'Don't worry too much, we'll be back shortly. -Logan.' " Roman read off his screen.

"Does that mean everythings good?" Virgil asked cautiously.

"Sounds like it. Though, Logan isn't that great at communicating emotions over text." He chuckled.

"What do you think happened with them?"

"Hopefully they made out."

Virgil laughed hard, making Roman smile sadly.

"I hope they did too." Virgil said, still laughing. "I swore Patton was gonna swoon when I saw them talking for the first time. Or at least die of blush."

"Oh I know. They're so oblivious, its almost not funny anymore!" Roman smiled. "Almost."

From there, Roman and Virgil laughed over their friends' pining, eventually talking about all kinds of random things while the waited for Patton and Logan to return, all ice cream long gone.

"When Trevor missed his cue? God, I thought the show was over." Virgil reminisced.

Roman laughed that loud, boisterous, adorable laugh of his. "I still can't believe he did that! I mean, how do you forget when you do a quick change right before it?"

Virgil laughed along with Roman when two familiar faces showed up.

"So you ate all our ice cream?" Logan asked, calling attention to himself smiling softly and holding Patton's hand.

Roman and Virgil immediately brightened. "Logan! Patton! You two finally got together!" Roman exclaimed.

Both of them blushed and Patton even hid behind the Pusheen plush in embarrassment.

"Soooo~?" Roman teased. "Tell us everything."

"I-" Patton giggled. "I think we should maybe keep that to ourselves." He said as he blushed again.

"Oh my god, you two actually did make out." Virgil accused. Logan and Patton only went paler.

"OH MY GOD!" Virgil freaked. "YOU ABSOLUTELY DID!"

They all laughed over it after awhile, leaving Roman staring at his phone.

Now he really didn't have a chance.

~~~~~

{Next}

Ooooooo what does that mean????? Guess we'll find out soon~

Taglist in reblog

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #kawaiikat54 fic #twoae fic #the woes of an emo fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #logicality #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #sanders sides high school au

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thegirlintheswivelchair · 4 years ago

Text

More Than We Hoped - Ch. 2

Summary: The Daily Bugle drags Spiderman, Tony forces Peter to come up to the compound, and that black haired man packs a punch.

Word count: +6.6k

Warnings: violence, injury, blood, angst...to be honest I think that’s it for this chapter

A/N: OK so I am actually really nervous to put this chapter out. It feels a little different from what I usually do. It felt like the story took on a life of its own, and also...this is all Peter. Y/n is not in this chapter. However, I am gonna have her in the next chapter quite a bit, so hopefully that will make up for it!! Anyways...I hope you enjoy this!

(Oh and this starts off directly after chapter 1!)

series masterlist | main masterlist

——

Still Saturday

Peter sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, “Hey, Tony.”

“Yeah, you’ve already said hello. Got anything else to say?” Tony’s voice deadpanned over the other line. It was sassy, but Peter could tell that he wasn’t necessarily in trouble...yet.

“I just woke up, what else did you want me to say?” Peter said off-handedly. He really wasn’t awake enough to handle where Tony wanted to take this conversation. Plus, he really did not know what was going on.

“I don’t know, you tell me? Why did I wake up this morning to see Spiderman’s name in a trending article from the Daily Bugle?”

“Would you believe me if I said, ‘I don’t know?’” Peter asked.

“Not really, no.” Again, Tony didn’t seem annoyed, but Peter couldn’t help but feel he might be getting a lecture somewhere down the line.

“Honestly, Tony, I haven’t even had time to read the article.” Peter responded evenly.

Tony let out a sigh, “It’s not great, Pete. Whatever you did on patrol last night—they’re spinning it like you lost control, and the guy is in the hospital because of you.”

“What?” Peter said in shock, “Hold on…”

Taking the phone away from his ear, he put Tony on speaker, so he could bring up the article to read.

The same twinge of foreboding that had hit him earlier came back as he read the headline again:

IS HE REALLY OUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDERMAN? Masked Vigilante involved in near lethal apprehension of defenseless substance abuser.

Clicking the article’s link to read more, he was greeted with a photo of his superhero alter ego. The photo showed Spiderman looking like he was being cornered in an alleyway. One of his hands was lifted urging whoever was in front of him to calm down, while the other was gesturing to the heaped form behind him. Anyone looking at it could see it was a body sprawled out on the ground, but the image was such bad quality barely any details were discernible.

His eyes went quickly to read the beginning of the article:

In the early morning hours last night, distress calls were phoned in by a number of residents of the Bright Valley Apartments. They were alerting authorities of a violent disturbance in the alleyway next to their building between Spiderman and a nondescript man.

The recorded calls are still not available to the public, but an eyewitness says the man seemed frantic and was lashing out. They said Spiderman struck the man a number of times until the victim was incapacitated.

When authorities arrived at the scene, Spiderman was still present before webbing his way out of the situation without properly debriefing the authorities that came to the site. It is unclear what the masked vigilante’s intentions were with the victim that has now been identified as Wayne Campbell, who has been known to use drugs. Campbell is now in the hospital with severe internal injuries and is in critical condition.

More was said underneath, but Peter had already seen enough. The feeling of foreboding deepened into a sloshing mess of worry, hurt pride, and a sense of sadness. There was too much misinformation and exploited truths in the first few paragraphs alone for Peter to say it was anything but what it was...

“They-They wrote a slander piece about me…” He said softly, switching the phone back to normal and bringing it up to his ear.

“Looks that way...Sorry, kiddo.” Tony said in a similarly soft tone before continuing, “Know anyone you’ve pissed off lately?”

“No one I can think of,” Peter responded in a sort of mumble after sitting quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Thought you might say that. That’s why I sent Happy to grab you and bring you back to the compound, so we can get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, how about you catch me up on what Spiderman’s been getting up to.”

“What? No—Tony, I can’t just make a trip out to the compound!” Peter exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got...” Peter paused. He felt he was needed here, but with his brain still stuck on the article he didn’t say that. Instead what came out was, “...homework.” He finished, closing his eyes knowing how lame that excuse was.

“Yeah, that hasn’t worked for the last 12 years, not gonna work now.” Tony said matter-of-factly.

Without missing a beat, Peter quipped back, “Technically, I didn’t get to use that excuse for 5 years. So really it’s only been 7.”

“Uncalled for,” Tony said. If they had been in the lab together, Peter could imagine that his mentor would be pointing a wrench at him and raising his eyebrows to emphasize the point that he was hurting the old man. A small smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth at the thought.

“So, you gonna tell me what really happened?”

The question sobered Peter quickly, making him momentarily forget about going to the compound. He blew air between pursed lips, his cheeks puffing out. “Whatever is happening is so screwed up, Tony…” Peter said quietly.

“It always is.” Tony said this with such sincerity Peter could almost hear the memories coming to life in the retired superheroes head. Tony cleared his throat and spoke up again, “Just start at the beginning.”

“Yeah, Ok.” Peter breathed out, and he began telling the story of the last 3 nightmarish nights he’d spent patrolling.

It took 45 minutes before Peter was getting to the details of last night. To his surprise, Tony had let Peter talk without much interruption, only small clarifications here and there and a hum to show he was paying attention.

Once he finally went quiet Tony spoke up, “And you haven’t found any connection between the 3 victims?”

“Not yet, I haven’t had time—” Peter was cut off by another call coming in. Looking at the contact, he saw it was Happy. He’s seriously making me go to the compound? No questions asked?

Sighing and not hiding his frustration, Peter quickly said “I gotta take this, it’s Happy.” He didn’t wait for a reply before accepting the new call. “Hey, Happy,” he said, adopting a much lighter tone than a second ago.

“Peter, where are you? I’ve been waiting outside for the last 15 minutes.” Happy said in a familiarly gruff greeting.

“Crap, you’re already here? Sorry, Happy. I’ll be right down.” Peter said as he jumped up from his spot on the bed and hung up the phone. He began grabbing at random clothes around the room, hoping they were clean, and throwing them on.

Soon, all that was left for him to do was find his other shoe. Shouldn’t be too hard right? Wrong. He turned over everything. At one point he even stood on the ceiling thinking a new angle would help him—It didn’t. Just as he was starting to get really frustrated, he found it hiding in the corner of his room where he could have sworn he’d looked at least three times before.

“Ah-ha!” He cheered triumphantly. The victory was short-lived when his phone began to blow up with texts from Happy. Each one getting steadily more grumpy in how they said he needed to get his ass moving and down to the car right now.

So in a chaotic blur of motion, Peter grabbed his lone shoe, his backpack, a granola bar from on top of his mini fridge, and jogged out of his room with only one shoe on.

As he made his way down his hallway, his phone rang for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. He picked it up without looking at the contacts name, and answered, “I know Happy, I’m on my way down right now. Couldn’t find my shoe.”

“See, I keep telling you to put trackers in them, but do you listen?” Came Tony’s amused voice over the other line.

Even though he had not expected his mentor's voice on the phone, Peter smirked and shot back, “Says the old man that can’t find the wrench that’s still in his hands.”

“That was one time!” Tony’s voice said defensively before changing the subject, “So you haven’t left with Happy yet, I take it?”

“Just getting out to his car.” Peter said, walking into his dorm’s elevator.

“Uh-huh. While, you’re on your way up, try and think through what might be similar to each incident. We’ll use that while going through the info your suit gathered during patrol.”

“Speaking of—Tony, I need to be back by tonight to go patrolling again. I need to be there for the next person that gets affected by this thing.”

“Yeah, no can do, Underoos.” Tony said. It was said with a casual finality, even off-handed in a way, and it irked Peter for some reason.

“What do you mean?” He said slightly annoyed as he left the elevator.

When he neared the door leading outside, he realized he was still not wearing his other shoe having been so distracted by Tony. He put his granola bar in his mouth, and began moving in a way he knew was not even remotely graceful as he tried to keep forward momentum and put his shoe on at the same time.

“There’s too much heat around the situation now, Pete. You need to stay away for awhile.” Tony broke through Peter’s concentration of staying upright as he barreled through the door to the outside.

Once he managed to get the shoe on, Peter paused for a second to take a bite out of his granola bar before moving again. He answered his mentor with a hard tone, “I can’t just drop this, Tony!”

“The media has gotten involved. That automatically makes this trickier. It’s important to tread carefully now.”

“I know I need to be careful,” Peter groaned out, “But I feel really close to a breakthrough! I just need a few more nights of recon. Please—”

“You have any leads?” Tony cut him off before he could keep talking.

Peter faltered before replying. He really didn’t have any leads, and it was clear Tony knew that. He had just hoped that train of thought would work on Tony, and he would be allowed to patrol. “I mean—no, not really.” Peter said quietly, opting for honesty in this moment.

He heard Tony sigh, “We need to be smart. This isn’t a recon-then-action type of mission anymore.”

Peter had made it to the sleek black car that would take him to the compound. Pausing in front of the passenger side, one hand on the door’s handle, Peter started talking, “I know, Tony, but these people—”

Tony cut him off again, “The answer is still no. We’ll talk more when you get here.”

The annoyance that had been simmering under Peter’s skin throughout the whole conversation, sparked at that moment. “Fine,” He snapped, and hit the phone’s red ‘End’ button. Opening the car door with a particular amount of aggression, he slid into the seat with a huff.

Happy immediately began pulling away from the curb as soon as the door shut. A sour silence fell over the two figures, with Peter staying silent and glaring out his window. The other, usually more grumpy, older man glanced at Peter frequently as they made their way upstate. Peter felt the stare each time, knowing the older man was trying to get a read on him as he quietly brooded.

Over the many years they had been in each other’s lives both had gotten relatively good at reading each other. In this particular situation, it was obvious Peter was frustrated about something, but he knew Happy was trying to piece together what might be annoying him.

“Tony did something again, didn’t he?” Happy’s voice finally broke the silence.

“You could say that,” Peter muttered.

“Whatever he did, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Peter had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, Happy didn’t deserve that. “Happy, no offense, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok, fair enough.” Happy conceded easily. The rest of the drive was silent, only the soft sounds of music were heard.

When the car rounded the tree lined bend that led up to the compound, Peter’s emotions did a bit of a dance. He always loved seeing this building. It was a symbol of something so much bigger than himself, even bigger than him as Spiderman. Excitement always sparked in his gut as he thought about what and who it held inside and all the inner workings that even he didn’t fully understand yet. The weight of its purpose was inspiring while also being rightfully intimidating. Peter had yet to shake the feelings of being inadequate when thinking about it all. No matter how much he had wanted it, he couldn’t stop wondering if he was good enough to be an Avenger, of being a part of the moving pieces that title gave him power in, and what it meant to protect the world. He was just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman after all.

Today, though, that wash of emotions was dampened by his frustration over why he was here to begin with. He felt like Tony was calling him here to keep an eye on him. Like he didn’t trust him, and it stung.

After the car pulled up to the giant glass doors of the side entrance, Peter said a hasty goodbye to Happy, got out and slammed the door shut a bit harder than necessary. He bounded up to the door, and stepped into the building.

Almost immediately, Friday, Tony’s AI, greeted him with an even tone “Hello, Peter. Should I let Boss know you are here?”

“Tell him I’ll be down in a sec.” Peter answered, but instead of going directly to the lab, he made his way to the large communal kitchen to make himself a sandwich.

Friday’s voice came through the silence of the kitched “Boss is asking for you to come down to the lab.” The AI paused then added, “He says to just bring the food with you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, Tony knew him a little too well sometimes. Taking a massive bite his sandwich, he grabbed his plate and started his way down to the lab.

When he turned into the large state of the art lab, he was greeted with a view of Tony’s back.

Since Thanos, Tony had changed from what he had looked like during his active days as Iron Man. It wasn’t for the worse, he had simply changed, gotten older. His hair had gotten distinctly more salt and peppered, even more than when Peter had been remade after the snap. The wrinkles around his eyes had gotten more prominent, and they highlighted the smile he’d started wearing more often now that he was a father and genius mechanic rather than a superhero holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He also had a prosthetic arm, a constant reminder of the day he saved the galaxy. When you could see it, it was a surprisingly tame color—a dark charcoal grey. “You can wear it with anything,” Tony had joked when asked why it wasn’t bright red. It still held Iron Man’s trademark colors of red and gold in its details, with a bright blue light filling out the crevices or other details that the nanotechnology didn’t cover. The scars from the wound that traced their way across his skin came up his neck and stretched up around his ear and cheek. Anything else around his shoulders and chest was usually covered by a shirt, unless he was in his tank top fixing his cars, or swimming at his house in the woods.

The biggest difference for Peter though, was the softness that had taken over Tony. He was certainly still the cocky, confident man he’d always been, but he didn’t hold himself that way anymore as a suit of armor. Now that confidence was worn as a person slowly working on their monsters and ever so subtly finding hope in who they actually are. It was a softness that came with years of therapy and walking through it all with good friends and family. Peter was proud of Tony for that, and was grateful he got to be a part of it.

Currently, Tony was in a basic long sleeve black shirt pulled back to his elbows and his usual chop-shop jeans that were filled with grease and other stains.

With his back to the door, he was surrounded by three different holographic projections. One was the schematics and details of Peter’s Spiderman suit. Another was a news feed scrolling and continuously playing any news that might be relevant to his search, and the last one had numbers, graphs, and other data that Peter quickly realized was the data from his suit.

The suit, while being his, and even his own design, was still hooked up to the main Stark “cloud” that Tony had created for everything that held Stark technology. That meant Tony could bring up anything he wanted from Peter’s suit.

At any other time, this would have annoyed Peter, maybe even offended him. The two of them had talked at length about the Baby Monitor protocol, and over the last 4 years had slowly lessened it all so that Peter could be his own person, having complete control over the responsibility he had as a superhero. Tony had promised to no longer check the data or videos on his suit unless Peter let him, or asked him to. For this particular moment, even in Peter’s already frustrated state, he knew there had been an unspoken agreement that Tony would help. That meant he would look into these details. So Peter let it slide, and while taking another enormous bite of his sandwich, he walked up to Tony’s side and asked with a mouthful, “Found anything interesting?”

Tony turned his face towards him with both eyebrows raised quietly asking the parental question of ‘really? while eating?’ to which Peter gave a noncommittal shrug to say ‘yup’. Tony lips twitched with amusement, and he turned back to the projections, answering, “No, not yet. Was waiting for you actually.”

Swallowing the bite, Peter said, “I think we should get Friday working on whether or not the three victims have anything in common with each other. Then you and I can look through the surveillance Karen saved through my mask’s camera and see if there is anything we can see for clues or leads.”

Tony nodded, then said, “You heard him, Fri. Start seeing if there is anything to connect these people together, and please upload the videos from Peter’s suit so we can start watching them.

“What time frame do you want to focus on for the videos?” She responded.

“Let’s see, everything starting from Wednesday at the beginning of my patrol to the end of the last entry on Friday,” said Peter.

Friday didn’t respond. Instead, a new hologram popped up in front of the two men, and the first scenes of the surveillance videos began to play. They silently began to watch together while Peter finished his food.

Three hours later, the pair were now sitting in chairs, eyes slightly glazed from the amount of random footage they had already gone through. Peter tried not thinking about the fact they were still only on Wednesday night. They had fast forwarded through most of the early evening of that night, until right around when Peter remembered it all started.

When he heard Karen respond to something he said by saying, “You said never to call a night ‘calm’ because it tempts the universe,” he perked up in his chair and spoke out loud, “This is where my senses started going off before I heard the whimpering.”

The suit’s camera showed the vantage point on top of a building looking down at the still busy street below. “Pause the video,” Peter said. Getting up from his chair, he raised his hands to the image. With an outward wave from both hands he expanded the image to be twice the size it was before, essentially engulfing himself and Tony in the scene.

“My senses went off, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from. It was too hard to tell with so many people staring simply because I had swung overhead, but I know someone was staring for another reason.”

Tony looked at him questioningly, “You know when someone is staring at you for another reason?”

Peter nodded and shrugged, “Yeah, there’s a difference in someone staring innocently, and someone that is staring for another reason. I don’t know why, but I can feel the difference.”

Tony nodded slowly, and his face briefly flashed a ‘huh, neat’ face before he turned back to the image. “Friday, start scanning the faces and see if there are any that stand out. Let’s start with criminal records or anyone that Spiderman has dealt with directly.”

“Certainly.” Friday responded.

In the meantime, both men were staring at the screen seeing if, on intuition and instinct alone, they could pick anything up. After about 2 minutes, Friday spoke, “There are three different faces detected that have misdemeanor records, none of which are connected to Spiderman for their arrest nor their crime.”

The 3 faces showed up with their records next to them, and it was clear right away that none of them were who they were looking for. One had a public indecency charge, another was a DUI, and the last had the only genuine criminal record for assault, but it was from over 20 years ago.

Peter sighed at the news feeling disappointed, while Tony leaned in. “Friday, run the video and see if anyone stays focused on Peter when we know the whimpering started.”

The time between where the clip started and when the whimpering began was only a few seconds and it was impossible to truly focus on the faces with the way the camera whipped in the direction of the whimpering when Peter had heard it. The audio itself didn’t pick up on the whimper—it being too faint for the microphone—but it was clear enough when Peter had heard it. When nothing could be seen, Tony called for the frames to be slowed down to a shuttering frame by frame pace.

In the blinking frames that could be seen right before Peter’s head moved, only a few people had remained focused on the superhero. An old man who had been tending to his store front, a child staying planted in awe until his parent tugged him along, and a tall slim man with black hair, suit, and...a silver tie.

“Wait!” Peter blurted, “That guy, right there. I recognize him! I saw him last night.”

“Him?” Tony pointed at the blown up image of the man.

“Yeah, he was coming out of the alleyway right before I went to help the last victim.”

“Friday, you know what that means.” Tony said to his AI.

The silence lasted for only a moment before Friday was speaking to the room, “His name is Everett Mercury, age 25, born and raised in New York City.”

“Ok, can you tell us anything else about him?”

“Actually, boss, his file and any subsequent information that is regularly available or traceable for the average person is coming up blank. This lack of data would normally suggest all information for Mr. Mercury was wiped clean or is purposefully untraceable in most technological databases.”

“Well, I think that means we found our guy, what do you think, Pete?” Tony said, snapping his fingers together and spinning on his heels to look directly at Peter.

Peter gave a small absentminded nod as he only kind of heard Tony’s question. He was still glaring at the face in front of him, thinking. “Is he anywhere near the second location?”

Again, the silence filled the room until the AI spoke, “Based on my recognition software, there is no record of him being at the location of the second victim.”

Peter groaned,”Dang it!” all though he used entirely more colorful language in his head.

“That doesn’t mean that wanna-be-young-Keanu-Reeves here isn’t our guy.” Tony said lightly.

“No, but it doesn’t confirm it either. Plus, we don’t know anything about him,” Peter shot back.

“They don’t usually make it that easy for us.”

Peter knew Tony wasn’t trying to goad him. He wasn’t even trying to be condescending, but after the week he’d had, the fear of the unknown and the frustration that was just sitting at the bottom of his stomach mixed and boiled quickly. “No they don’t. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping our first lead might have been a little less vague. What are we supposed to do with this information, Tony?” Peter said heatedly, whirling to face his mentor with a glare.

Tony met his stare with raised eyebrows and a slight cock of the head. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?” He looked into Peter’s eyes for a second, “Are you mad at me?”

“How does this help people, Tony? How does me sitting here with you, finding out this guy's name, in upstate New York, help anyone?” Peter said, not answering the question.

“Pete, this is only just the beginning. We’ve only been here—what? 3 hours?” Tony said, checking his watch.

“Yeah, and by the time I get back someone might already be infected by whatever-the-hell this is and could even be dead!”

Understanding washed over Tony’s features at Peter’s words. “You’re upset I said you couldn’t go patrolling.” It wasn’t a question. He had said it as its own confirmation.

“Have you watched any of these videos, Tony?” Peter said with quiet intensity pointing back at the projected image, “New York needs someone out there protecting them, and right now, no one is.”

Tony remained silent as he looked intently at Peter for a moment, his lips pushed up in thought. When he finally looked away, he gave a heavy sigh, and his hands came up in a loose shrug before he said, “Ok. You want to go out and patrol. Then I won’t stop you.”

“What?” Peter said slightly shocked, “You’re gonna let me go?” He was not expecting that reaction. He thought he would need to put up a fight, argue a bit more. Even then, he didn’t think Tony was going to allow him to go.

“Yeah. You want to patrol. I won’t stop you.” Tony said lightly.

Peter looked at Tony for a second, hesitating. His brows furrowed as he searched the man’s face. Something about Tony’s reaction bothered him, but he couldn’t think why. Why was that so easy? The thought was momentary, a sparked instinct to push for more information, but as soon as it came, it was swallowed up by the new thoughts of getting back to the city. If he could patrol, maybe he could do better reconnaissance, maybe even find the black haired man himself and question him.

“Uh, right.” Peter breathed out, “Then I’m gonna go.” He turned and started to leave the lab. Right when he got to the door, he looked back and saw Tony had already turned his back on him and was looking at each screen he had pulled up. He had started playing the frame-by-frame video again. His arms were crossed, and it was clear he was thinking and assessing everything he saw. Again, something in the back of Peter’s head told him he should stay, but he pushed it back stubbornly.

A couple hours later found Peter atop the lone skyscraper on campus. It was a massive clock tower that used to ring every hour with a real bell, but it had since been turned electronic, telling the time silently as it watched the students wander below. On nights when he needed to just think Peter would find himself up here, especially when he couldn’t be bothered making it to his usual favorite perches closer to the center of the city. Tonight, Peter was watching dusk settle over the city, thinking of a game plan for the night’s patrol.

Somehow, the other incidents had happened right where he was, no need to search far and wide. That left Peter with little direction as to where to start, but he still had to get moving. The shadows were growing, and that meant more alleys to hide in and go unnoticed.

Standing up, he shook himself loose, and flicked out his hand. His two middle fingers came to the base of his palm, tapping his web shooter to life. It responded with a string of web flying over to the next building, and just as Peter stepped off the tower, he spoke to his AI, “Karen, I want you to monitor for raised temperatures, and scan every face you can for Everett Mercury. Let’s make tonight worth it.”

“Initiating scanning parameters.” Karen confirmed.

As Peter swung, he felt his senses open up and his nerves coil like springs. The anticipation he held for finding another victim was growing, and he hated how afraid he was. It wasn’t just the fear of these people getting hurt. Frankly, that he could deal with. He’s had to deal with it. It was a responsibility of a superhero to deal with the fear of people getting hurt. No, he was afraid of seeing the side effects of this thing again. The glowing eyes, the pulsing veins, the shrill cry that comes with each victim—it was haunting. He was also afraid of holding another person in his arms as they fought whatever it was they were affected by. He didn’t know how many more people he could watch seize and drop into a comatose state.

He was uneasy, and he felt a little ashamed this thing had dug its claws into him so quickly, but the apprehension he didn’t want was still there all the same. With each flick of his wrist that carried him farther into the city, he tried to think of a way to turn that fear in his favor, but all he came up with was a sour and shaky form of adrenaline.

Much later into the night, Karen’s voice came out clear in Peter’s ear,“My scans show a man that fits the description of Everett Mercury by the ATM’s on the corner.”

Peter swung to the nearest rooftop, and upon crouching and turning around to look out at the four-way intersection he felt his senses buzz lightly. That annoying warning was back, and his skin crawled at the feeling. He spoke quietly to his AI, “Where is he?”

Before Karen could answer, Peter’s eyes found a black haired figure in a sharp suit standing motionless at the corner. When Peter found his eyes, he felt his stomach do a flip. The man was staring straight at him, unflinching and unfazed as their eyes met. His eyes were cold and dark, set within a face of stone. Each second felt stretched in time as Peter looked at him. He stood expectantly, like he had known Spiderman would be there, looking for him. As if to confirm the suspicion, a small smirk began to play itself on Mercury’s lips before he broke eye contact, turned and in a few steps, seemed to vanish into thin air.

“What? What was that?” Peter whispered harshly as he stared wide eyed at nothing, “no no no no!”

In a panic, he shot out a web, and launched himself down to the other side of the intersection. As he landed lightly on his feet where Mercury had been standing, he looked in all directions only to catch a glimpse of the dark suited figure slipping down a darkened road at the end of the street. Peter sprinted in that direction, and when he turned the corner he was met with more empty space.

What the hell?!

Scanning the area, Peter saw that he had run into a large empty courtyard. It was rundown, with pipes coming out haphazardly from the walls, concrete benches spotted the outskirts of the central space where the ground had broken and the cracks were growing grass and weeds. It was lit by a solitary orange street light that shone weakly at the entrance making shadows fall over the far side and its corners turn black.

As Peter squinted in the direction of those shadows, he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Flicking a web in the direction of the movement, he knew he had caught nothing as it hit a pipe with a hard hollow sound.

He jerked his head in the direction of the movement, and felt his body crouch instinctively, muscles tightening, ready to launch into motion.

Another glimpse of movement, and another web that hit nothing.

“I know you're in here!” Peter spoke out into the courtyard. Still crouched with fists clenched, he felt his heart hammering in his chest, and adrenaline coursing through his body.

Peter tried to hone in on his spidey senses hoping to locate the man that way. He felt the familiar buzzing at the back of his head, but the warning felt like it was coming from more than one direction. There was nowhere that didn’t feel threatening, and his mind began to go fuzzy the longer he tried to focus on it. It was like white noise slowly getting louder as the threat started to close in like walls.

In the fog taking over his brain, Peter didn’t notice the air shimmering a few feet in front of him until Everett Mercury had materialized in front of him. The man stood towering over Peter’s crouched figure, a smirk still on his face.

As quickly as he had appeared, his body crouched and shot out a hand which connected with Peter’s sternum and sent him flying into the wall behind him. After the hit landed, he vanished into the darkness again.

A voice, low and smooth came from the dark, “I’m not the one you should be focusing on, Spiderman.”

The impact had knocked the wind from Peter’s lungs, and he slipped to the ground on all fours coughing. He tried to right his breathing quickly as he scrambled up and got into a ready stance again, saying breathily, “Oh, yeah? And your cloak and dagger thing is what, a party trick? Doesn’t exactly convince me you’re a good guy.”

Peter didn’t get an answer. Mercury appeared at his side and shoved him hard enough to make Peter stumble towards the center of the open space. Peter tried to correct his balance and figure out where his opponent might be coming from, but there was nothing but mental static.

“It’s not about me being good or bad. I just follow orders. You on the other hand...What are you doing to save all those helpless people?” The disembodied voice spoke casually. It sounded like it was circling the perimeter of the yard. “You’re wasting time, Spidey.”

Peter knew he was being baited, but that didn’t stop a spark of fear and anger to go through him at the thought of more victims. Fuck, please be bluffing.

“Why are you doing this?” Peter growled, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Why am I doing this?” The voice answered, amusement laced its deep tone, “I’m not doing anything. They seek us out.”

With the white noise still muffling his senses, Peter didn’t notice Mercury come up behind him until he was whispering in his ear, “They ask for it.”

Peter whirled around to see Mercury standing right in front of him. With a knee-jerk reaction, Peter shot out his fist, but he hit nothing as Mercury smoothly ducked out of the way. Peter pivoted to counter the dodge, but the dark haired man’s eyes flashed with an intensity that charged the air. It felt like the split second between when a fuse runs its course and the firework finally erupts. Except, Peter wasn’t ready for the explosion.

Mercury lunged forward, and swung his fists at Peter. First a straight cross, then an upper cut, then another jab. Mercury’s fists were flying, and each hit was made with a trained precision. The ferocity of the attack caught Peter off guard, and each blow was thrown with such brutal speed and power that he felt defenseless against them as they slowly pushed him backwards towards the wall.

Finally, a particularly harsh punch came and hit his face. Peter’s body gave him no choice but to drop to the ground dazed. He felt warm blood flow from his nose, and in the back of his head he guessed his nose might have been broken.

The other man, barely breathing heavy, stalked closer to Peter’s hunched figure, and mumbled something under his breath that Peter didn’t catch over the ringing in his ears. Then he picked Peter up by his shoulders and slammed him into a mess of pipes jutting from the wall behind him. A loud crack sounded, and pain radiated through Peter’s ribs as one of them broke on impact. His head rocked back into a lead pipe, and he felt the edge of yet another pipe’s broken opening cut into his skin because of the sheer force he was being pressed into it. Weakly, he tried and failed to squirm out of the other man’s grasp.

Mercury glared into Peter’s masked face and spoke in a low menacing voice, “You might not believe this, but what’s happening is for the better.” He looked between the two bright white eyes with cold intensity and growled, “Don’t fight this.”

He let go of Peter, who immediately slumped to the ground, and stepped back. Shadow engulfed Mercury’s figure once more, and he was gone.

Peter sat on the ground, clutching his torso, and trying to breath through the pain that was currently coursing through his body. It had been a while since he had been beaten up this badly, or been so taken by surprise. Why wouldn’t my spidey sense work? His pain addled brain couldn’t think of a reason just yet, and his main priority needed to be getting back to the dorms.

“Hey Karen, how far are we from campus?” Peter whispered out.

“You are currently 2 miles away.” The AI responded.

“Great,” He said a little high pitched, “I can do that. No problem.”

Shakily, he stood up and raised his arm to shoot out a web. The broken rib screamed in protest, but gritting his teeth against the pain, Peter shot and pulled himself into the air.

He must have blacked out as he swung back because Peter would not have been able to tell anyone how he managed to make it back to his dorm room that night. All he remembered was waking up on the floor during the very early hours of the day with Ned shaking him awake.

“Pete. Peter! You gotta wake up!” Ned’s voice was full of worry.

He groaned as his friend continued shaking him. He reached up his hand and swatted clumsily at the arm connected to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“Oh, thank god,” Ned sighed, “Dude, you’re a fucking mess. What the hell did you do tonight?”

Peter couldn’t form coherent thoughts just yet with the pain and disorientation his injuries were causing him, and just mumbled, “Patrol.”

“Yeah, figured that much out myself. I meant what happened to you?”

“Everett Mercury.” Peter said briefly, still trying to stop the spinning in his head.

“Whose that?” Ned asked curiously.

Just then, Peter’s phone began ringing and buzzing on his desk. Ned reached over Peter’s head and handed it to him. The screen’s brightness bit into Peter’s eyes and he flinched while making out the series of texts coming in from Tony.

Tony: We need to talk.

Tony: Mercury is enhanced and highly dangerous.

Tony: Do not engage with him. We need to make a plan

Too late, Tony... Peter thought as he felt each injury pulse in time with his heart.

There’s chapter 2! Please let me know any feedback you might have! I’d love to know if there are things you are hoping to see, or if you have any thoughts about the story in general. All reblogs are so incredibly appreciated! 💙❤️

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added)

@cocoamoonmalfoy @empath-bunny @storybookholland @kassey @touchmethomas @greenorangevioletgrass @emilyparkerholland

#more than we hoped #more than we hoped chapter 2 #more than we hoped series #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #college!peter #college!peter parker #college! au #college au #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #angst

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writingithink · 4 years ago

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Tangled Timelines Chapter 4 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 8,468 Chapter Summary: Their tour of Torchwood does not go well. Notes: Okay so it's been awhile, but I'm back! Life is still p busy and chaotic, buuut the muse is kinder to me when there's more sunshine, so ... *shrug* I can only hope the update is worth the wait XP Hopefully the fact that it's the longest chapter yet helps?

MASSIVE thanks to @hey-there-juliet for being an amazing beta, as always.

All mistakes are definitely mine, being as I cannot leave anything alone.

I own nothing.

Read it on AO3!!

<-Ch 3

They left the warehouse through a dingy corridor, which the Doctor suspected was actually a tunnel. The air felt stale and damp despite the ventilation shafts running above them. Plus, Yvonne was currently silent, not giving them an enthusiastic description of where they were or where they were going - likely an attempt to disorient them. Cheeky, really.

“All those times I’ve been to Earth, I’ve never heard of you,” he told her, mostly trying to figure out how that was even possible, and partly because hearing nothing but their echoing footsteps was starting to get on his nerves.

Rose was quiet, both verbally and in his head, as she continuously looked around them. Being escorted by armed guards through a creepy tunnel was putting her on edge. He squeezed her hand, but had a difficult time trying to project reassurance across their bond.

“But of course not. You’re the enemy,” Yvonne said. “You’re actually named in the Torchwood Foundation Charter of 1879 as an enemy of the Crown.”

Wait, 1879?! Torchwood, 1879.

“1879,” the Doctor repeated aloud this time. “That was called Torchwood, that house in Scotland.”

Just you?!, Rose exclaimed, outrage flitting through their connection. They don’t even mention me? Oh, that is just- just typical Victorian. I bet it’s because you said you bought me or whatever. I was just- just a thing. Good enough to be knighted and banished, but don’t get even a teeny tiny mention on this Charter of theirs?

I’m sorry, do you want to be declared an enemy of the crown?, he asked her. While he was able to keep his amusement off of his face, it was very apparent over the bond.

“That’s right,” Yvonne was saying, “where you encountered Queen Victoria and the werewolf.”

“I guess she really was NOT amused,” Rose quipped.

“Her Majesty created the Torchwood Institute with the express intention of keeping Britain great, and fighting the alien horde,” Yvonne informed them.

Suppose it’s best that I wasn’t mentioned, his wife admitted over the bond. Imagine what would’ve happened if Torchwood did know about me and snatched me up, took me prisoner or something before we even met?

She actually made a very good point.

“But if I’m the enemy, does that mean that I’m a prisoner?” the Doctor asked, more than a little worried.

Earth during this time, from his perspective? Mostly harmless. Torchwood, however, had an awful lot of very not-harmless extraterrestrial technology. And while they couldn’t get into the TARDIS and couldn’t actually stop him from sensing where she was, they did seem to have a sporting chance of keeping them from reaching her.

“Oh yes,” Yvonne answered as they made a sharp turn and exited the tunnel to stop abruptly in front of a heavily enforced door. “But we’ll make you perfectly comfortable. And there is so much you can teach us. Starting with this.”

The door slid open and she led them into what appeared to be some sort of laboratory.

“Now, what do you make of that?” she asked, not needing to be any more specific. There was no way that he couldn’t know what she was referring to, the way the sphere was hovering at the end of the narrow space, every single piece of equipment in the room trained on it. And it was decidedly wrong. More wrong than the ghosts, than Torchwood’s existence, than … anything on the planet , really.

The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off it.

All of his senses were going haywire, forcing him to block out most of the bond in order to shield Rose from just how- how awful this thing was.

“You must be the Doctor,” he was dimly aware that someone was speaking to him. “Rajesh Singh. It’s an honor, sir.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, still unable to look away from the sphere.

The timelines were tangling up around it, some passing over it as if the sphere didn’t exist, others indicating direct consequences of its future actions, or inaction - who knows. But those timelines were the only real sign, aside from the fact that he could see it, that his senses were giving him to prove that it did, in fact, exist at all.

“What is that?” his bondmate asked, dropping his hand. “It’s- it’s-”

“We got no idea,” Yvonne had no qualms to admit.

The Doctor shut down even more of the bond (a difficult feat), activating senses that he rarely used and was sure would only serve to give Rose a headache (or worse) if they leeched over to her. He had some ideas, none of them good, but still needed to narrow it down.

“It’s wrong,” his wife proclaimed.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with it?” he vaguely heard the bloke - Rajesh - ask her.

“I … I can’t … I think I might be sick.”

His attention snapped back to his bondmate and the Doctor opened the bond a little bit more, as much he safely felt he could, attempting to comfort her while also determining exactly what she was sensing from the sphere. Rose was still new to telepathy, really, and there was a possibility that other senses were activating as well. Unfortunately, he also needed to figure out what the sphere really was, and couldn’t focus the majority of his attention on his wife as he walked up to the platform. All he could safely ascertain, without going too deep into her mind to focus on the task at hand, was that she wasn’t truly ill and that her mind wasn’t in any danger.

“Well, the sphere has that effect on everyone,” Yvonne said. “Makes you want to run and hide, like it’s forbidden.”

“We tried analyzing it using every device imaginable,” Rajesh explained as the Doctor re-blocked the bond and put on his 3D specs, hoping for once that he was wrong. “But according to our instruments, the sphere doesn’t exist.”

Oh, why couldn’t he have been wrong? The sphere was so steeped in Void particles that it almost looked as though it was made of the stuff.

Yvonne had said that the ghosts were a side effect. He was starting to get an idea of what may have happened.

“It weighs nothing,” Rajesh continued, “it doesn’t age. No heat, no radiation, and has no atomic mass.”

“But everyone can see it,” Rose pointed out in disbelief. “Touch it, I’m assuming. It’s there.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? It upsets people because it gives off nothing. It is absent.”

The Doctor couldn’t stop looking at it. It was … well, obviously it wasn’t impossible, but it should be.

“Well, Doctor?” Yvonne asked, snapping him out of it.

“This is a Void Ship,” he admitted, refocusing on the weakening barriers he’d erected around their bond, trying to reinforce them in order to keep his anxiety and fear from crossing over. The blocks wouldn’t last much longer, the mental energy to keep them in place would be too great, but he just needed a little more time to get a handle on himself. They would figure this all out. They had to.

“And what is that?”

He could feel his wife attempting to reach him and hated that he was keeping her out. But really, they needed to avoid the inevitable negative feedback loop, especially since he had to do his best to appear calm and collected in front of these people. The Doctor took off his glasses, but still couldn’t stop looking at the ship.

“Well, it’s impossible for starters,” he told them, unable to think of a better word. “I always thought it was just a theory, but it’s a vessel designed to exist outside of time and space, traveling through the Void.”

Finally able to rip his gaze away from the sphere, he turned away, sitting down on the stairs leading up to the platform. Yvonne and Rajesh were quick to flank him, forcing Rose to squeeze past them in order to sit next to him. The Doctor put his arm around her automatically, and his barriers crumbled away. It was easier to keep himself calm (well, more calm) now that he wasn’t looking at the thing.

“And what’s the Void?” Rajesh asked.

It’s the space between parallel worlds, yeah?, his bondmate confirmed, attempting to send soothing waves of reassurance across their connection and dutifully not complaining about being cut off.

“The space between dimensions,” he explained to the others after mentally agreeing with his wife. “There’s all sorts of realities around us, different dimensions, billions of parallel universes all stacked up against each other. The Void is the space in between, containing absolutely nothing. Imagine that - nothing. No light, no dark, no up, no down, no life, no time.” The Doctor actually found himself feeling better, giving them a heavily edited lecture, separating himself from all of the potential ramifications for a moment. But only for a moment, before dread began to claw back up his spine. “My people called it the Void. The Eternals call it the Howling. But some people call it Hell.”

“But someone built the sphere,” Rajesh pointed out. “What for? Why go there?”

Oh, he did love it when people asked the important questions.

“To explore?” he hazarded. “To escape? You could sit inside that thing and eternity would pass you by. The Big Bang, end of the Universe, start of the next, wouldn’t even touch the sides. You’d exist outside the whole of creation.”

In a rare moment of complete synchronicity, he and Rose both thought of the Beast in the pit.

The Doctor hadn’t thought it possible, but the Void Ship suddenly seemed even more sinister.

Before time.

Perhaps a being could exist before time … if they crawled out of the Void. But how would that even work? He wanted to convince himself that it was impossible - had to be. But …

It doesn’t matter, Rose chimed in, easily getting his attention. We stopped him. Whatever’s in that thing, it isn’t that.

She seemed so certain of this that the Doctor couldn’t help but believe her.

“You see, we were right,” Yvonne said, smugly. “There is something inside there.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, frowning deeply as she smiled on.

His bondmate was now thinking of a different memory from Krop Tor. What the Beast had predicted for her.

The valiant child, who will die in battle so very soon.

He could feel the beginnings of the negative feedback loop that he’d been trying so hard to prevent.

I told you, it was wrong, the Doctor insisted, trying to project his complete certainty of this fact. Their timelines were entwined - it was all or nothing. And he still didn’t trust what he’d glimpsed at the Olympics, couldn’t allow that kind of hope to blind him of the danger of their current situation, but he played the memory for her anyway. He needed her to believe it. They just needed to get through this.

“So, how do we get in there?” Rajesh asked.

Oh, how he hated it when people asked the wrong questions.

“We don’t!” he ordered, launching himself up off the platform. “We send that thing back into Hell. How did it get here in the first place?”

There would have to be a tear in the fabric of reality for it to come through now that his people were gone. And he was going to have to figure out how to close it before it got bigger.

A tear in the fabric of reality?!, Rose shouted in his mind as she got up to follow him.

“Well, that’s how it all started,” Yvonne unknowingly saved him from having to respond to his seething wife. “The sphere came through into this world and the ghosts followed in its wake.”

“Show me,” the Doctor demanded, voice clipped as he took Rose’s hand and marched out of the room.

You’ve known about this Void stuff the whole bloody time, she continued complaining over the bond. Why the HELL didn’t you say something sooner?

I didn’t want to worry you unless I had to, he admitted. When it was just those ghosts, I thought that maybe it would be a simple fix. But that ship is corporeal. It made it properly through. The ghosts haven’t, so I thought I might just be dealing with a potential crack in the Universe. An almost crack. Like when you drop a mug and it gets a tiny hairline fracture. It hasn’t actually broken, just damaged enough that bacteria can get caught in it. You shouldn’t really drink out of it anymore if you can help it, but if you wanted to you could still use it to store pencils.

They took a left and barely made it past the door before he heard Yvonne shout, “No, Doctor.”

He quickly pivoted, accidentally dragging his bondmate in a circle, and then purposefully held his head high as they walked past the door again.

So the ship broke the mug, then, Rose continued as Yvonne and one of the soldiers caught up to them.

Yup. The metaphor kind of falls apart a bit after that, though. I’ll think of something better, just give us a tick. And … I’m sorry. It’s not like I thought you couldn’t handle it or anything.

They were directed to a lift, and as soon as they got inside his bondmate let go of his hand and crossed her arms.

Honestly, the Doctor pleaded across their bond, I was hoping that I was wrong. That it just appeared like they’d crossed the Void.

She glanced his way before eyeing the screen that was tracking their progress up the floors at a rate that was much faster than he could recall lifts being in this time period. The further up they went, the more his senses were screaming at him that things were not right. Timelines were twisting into strange shapes, and what was an occasional flicker everywhere else was more like a strobe as they shifted in and out of existence. The Doctor felt increasingly grateful that the barriers around his senses were much stronger than the rest.

You really weren’t trying to keep me out of some plan you’re cookin’?

Absolutely not, he hastily agreed. Me? A plan? Bold of you to think I have one.

His bondmate covered her mouth with a hand as her laughter rang out over their connection. Much better. Well, relatively. They were still in the middle of a gigantic potentially-Universe-ending catastrophe, but who said he couldn’t still appreciate the little things?

Yvonne led them out at the 45th floor - the very top of the building. Or maybe skyscraper was a better word.

“Right this way, then,” she said, and while Yvonne had started off leading them, they soon matched her pace - the breach was so large that there was no way the Doctor could have missed it even without the escort.

Within moments they turned a corner and there it was. Dormant, but there.

“The sphere came through here,” Yvonne stated. “A hole in the world.”

The Doctor dropped Rose’s hand as he approached the tear. Even in its current state, he could tell how large it was - that it had been growing. He reached up a hand, tracing its edge. Tingly. Tingly, but the bad kind. His hairs stood on end.

Is that safe? His wife’s worry coated their bond.

It’s fine, he assured her. It’s closed … for now.

“Not active at the moment,” Yvonne continued, “but when we fire particle engines at that exact spot, the breach opens up.”

So they made the hole, then? Why?!

He could tell that his bondmate was wondering the exact same thing.

“How did you even find it?” the Doctor asked, deciding to start at the beginning (so to speak), as he backed away to look at the rip in reality in its entirety.

“We were getting warning signs for years. A radar black spot. So we built this place, Torchwood Tower. The breach was six hundred feet above sea level. It was the only way to reach it,” Yvonne answered as he put on his 3D glasses.

Oh. Oh. The edges were steeped in just as much Void particles as the ship - which was just about what he’d been thinking, but still. Anticipating and then seeing were two very different things. He didn’t want to see what it was like when active. It should have never been active.

Do they just have an unlimited budget, then? Country spending all it’s money on this?

The Doctor could tell that his wife wasn’t actually talking to him, but the thought was quite loud and quite irritated. He glanced back to see Rose standing a few feet behind him with her arms crossed, frowning as she glared at the back of Yvonne Hartman’s head.

“You built a skyscraper just to reach a spatial disturbance?” he couldn’t help but ask. “How much money have you got?”

“Enough,” Yvonne blithely answered before walking away.

Well, that was … fair? He never had figured out all of the rules for money, especially for talking about money. Humans were just so … so weird. The Doctor took off his glasses and tried not to roll his eyes.

“Look who’s talking,” Rose whispered in his ear.

“Oh, speaking aloud now, are we?” he muttered back.

“Mmhmm,” she responded with a cheeky grin. “Gonna let me try out your 3D glasses? Aren’t these from when we saw It Came from Outer Space after the last time we failed to see Elvis?” Turns out third time isn’t the charm.

This time the Doctor really did roll his eyes as he passed his bondmate the glasses. It really shouldn’t be this difficult to see Elvis Presley, really it-

He stopped himself from going down that train of thought. Much more important things to think about. Rose tilted her head as she stared at the breach, then turned toward him. Her jaw dropped.

“Doc-”

“Come on now, Doctor,” Yvonne called before Rose could finish her sentence.

“Yup! Coming!”

They both turned and followed their ‘tour guide’ away from the rip in the multiverse, his wife passing back the glasses as they went.

Why are those black things all over you, too? The, er, Void stuff, Rose asked over the bond.

They’re also on you. We’ve been through, remember? But we’ve just got a light dusting. Everything else, you can barely see the thing for the Void, he explained as they caught up with Yvonne only to be led into an office.

Rose paused by a window, pressing her face up against the glass as she looked down at the streets below them, while the Doctor … for lack of a better way to phrase it … wandered off. It was different, though! The rule was for Rose not to wander away from him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t wander away from … uptight know-it-all heads of shadow organizations. Whom his wife was- was guarding. While he investigated!

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of interest going on at the moment. And everyone was ignoring him. He was able to get a good look at their equipment, though, so at least there was that. It was simple enough, but he doubted he’d have enough time to dismantle it before a bunch of soldiers with guns came and stopped him.

“Oh!” he heard Rose exclaim from around the corner. “Look, we’re in Canary Wharf!”

The Doctor quickly placed them in his mental map of London. Good to know. He wasn’t yet sure why it would be good to know, but it couldn’t hurt. The ‘ghosts’ were everywhere, so it wouldn’t help with that, but if he needed to contact UNIT at any point, they would need to know his position.

“Well, that is the public name for it,” Yvonne was saying as he headed back toward them. “But to those in the know, it’s Torchwood.”

Right then. And now they were in the know, so it was time they listened.

“So,” he began as soon as he entered the room, “you find the breach, probe it, the sphere comes through six hundred feet above London, bam! It leaves a hole in the fabric of reality. And that hole, you think, oh, shall we leave it alone? Shall we back off? Shall we play it safe? Nah, you think let’s make it bigger!”

“It’s a massive source of energy,” Yvonne justified. “If we can harness that power, we need never depend on the Middle East again. Britain will become truly independent. Look, you can see for yourself. Next Ghost Shift’s in two minutes.”

She began leading them away, yet again, and he was tired of the tour.

“Cancel it,” he ordered as Yvonne walked past.

She’s not gonna listen to ya, his bondmate oh-so-helpfully pointed out.

“I don’t think so.”

The timelines were stretching taught all around him, blinking in and out even faster. He’d experienced temporal tipping points, he’d experienced fixed points, but he’d never experienced something like this. It was fraying his every nerve and it was taking most of his mental energy just to keep the effects of the anomaly from leaching across the bond.

“I’m warning you, cancel it,” he snarled. Why couldn’t she just listen? Why couldn’t she see that her actions right here, right now, could stop the Universe from being ripped apart?!

Rose, unaware of his mental turmoil, recoiled slightly, eyes widening. He could feel her prodding around the bond, trying to get further into his mind, asking what was wrong and baffled at his lack of response.

No no no no no. Not right now, not when he was constantly erecting and re-erecting barriers. It would be too much, if she got in his head fully. Too much, too much, too much.

Yvonne Hartman spun around, showing some real emotion for the first time since they landed at her precious headquarters that she had no idea may as well be a tomb.

“Oh, exactly as the legends would have it,” she said, voice dripping with condescension. “The Doctor, lording it over us, assuming alien authority over the Rights of Man.”

“Let me show you,” the Doctor panted, racing back behind a glass wall just as he succeeded in forcibly pushing Rose out of his head. Their bond went silent. A sinking feeling permeated his being, but … later. He’d deal with it later, explain later. One problem at a bloody time. “Sphere comes through,” he announced, pulling out his sonic and pointing it at the glass, making sure Hartman watched as it splintered around the initial impact site. “But when it made the hole, it cracked the world around it. The entire surface of this dimension splintered. And that’s how the ghosts get through. That’s how they get everywhere. They’re bleeding through the fault lines. Walking from their world, across the Void, and into yours, with the human race hoping and wishing and helping them along. But too many ghosts, and-” he gently poked the glass wall and the whole thing shattered onto the floor.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Maybe he’d gotten through to her.

“Well,” she finally said, “in that case, we’ll have to be more careful.”

He glanced at Rose, meeting her eyes for only a moment before she swallowed and looked away.

“Positions! Ghost Shift in one minute!”

In a few long strides, the Doctor avoided most of the glass, fully ready to beg.

“Miss Hartman, I am asking you, please don’t do it.”

“You’re putting everyone in danger,” his bondmate chimed in, and he didn’t like the panic and desperation in her voice, so he didn’t dare turn and try to look at her again. Seeing Rose upset wasn’t going to help. “Not just London or Britain, but the whole world! Maybe the whole Universe!”

“We have done this a thousand times!” Yvonne shot back, as if that somehow made it better.

“Then stop at a thousand!” he shouted, timelines strobing in and out so quickly that he could barely think straight, barriers beginning to crumble and he didn’t have the energy left to build more, not if he wanted to figure out how to stop whatever Miss Hartman seemed determined to start.

“We’re in control of the ghosts,” she tried to convince him. “The levers can open the breach, but equally they can close it.”

The Doctor stared at her, and came to a decision, though not the most ethical one. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures, and since he was no longer using all of his telepathic energy to keep his wife from stumbling into the minefield that was his mind, he could do something else. He could project towards Miss Yvonne Hartman. She worked right next to the breach, which means her brain was likely primed for this sort of thing. Universe ending? Fine. Fine. Let her end it, then. But could she make that call? Would she be able to live with herself … whether she lived at all?

“Okay,” he said brightly, breaking eye contact once the suggestion was made and practically skipping back toward the office.

“Sorry?” Yvonne asked, just as confused as he figured she’d be.

“Never mind. As you were,” the Doctor smiled, grabbing the nearest chair and rolling it over towards where Rose was standing, still preternaturally silent in his head despite the fact that his barriers were now almost non-existent.

“What, is that it?”

“No, fair enough. Said my bit, don’t mind me,” he replied, taking a seat and turning toward the nearest worker. “Any chance for a cup of tea?”

The woman at the desk ignored him, but she did turn toward Miss Hartman and announce, “Ghost Shift in twenty seconds.”

“Mmm, can’t wait to see it,” the Doctor said, over exaggerating his excitement, his clenched fists the only thing giving him away.

“You can’t stop us, Doctor,” Yvonne declared, though it didn’t seem like her heart was in it. Good.

“No, absolutely not,” he agreed, crossing his arms. “Come here, Rose. Come and watch the fireworks.”

His bondmate finally walked over to him, and he was quick to weave their fingers together. And just like that, every barrier he had, even the ones that were normally easy to maintain, fell away as if they’d never existed in the first place. Her eyes widened, a barely audible gasp escaping before she moved even closer, stumbling before taking a seat on his lap.

I thought-

She didn’t give him time to finish the thought.

Sod it! If this is as long as our forever might be, I’m not gonna spend it pretending that we’re not together, her mental voice a disconcerting mix of defiance, anger, sorrow, and fear.

“Ghost shift in ten seconds,” the woman at the computer announced.

Rose’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Nine.”

The Doctor locked eyes with Miss. Hartman.

“Eight.”

He could see the fear there, just under the surface.

“Seven.”

He raised his eyebrows, daring her.

“Six.”

I love you, Rose’s mental voice whispered across the bond, tentative, afraid to mess up the game of chicken he’d started, but also desperate with the need to tell him.

“Five.”

I love you too, the Doctor replied, squeezing her hand, eyes still never leaving Yvonne’s, grin still plastered on his face.

“Four.”

It was a staring contest, with the entire Universe at stake, and he could tell that the fact that he didn’t actually have to blink was beginning to unnerve her.

“Three.”

C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon !

“Two.”

His respiratory bypass kicked in, though his smile didn’t falter.

The word ‘one’ was about to pass through the worker’s lips.

“Stop the shift,” Yvonne ordered. “I said stop.”

“Thank you,” he said, managing to not let on just how worried he’d been there for a second.

“Yeah,” Rose seconded, “thank you.”

“I suppose it makes sense to get as much intelligence as possible,” Yvonne said, visibly shaken though doing a pretty good job of trying to hide it from her employees. “But the program will recommence, as soon as you’ve explained everything.”

“We’re glad to be of help,” the Doctor replied, not wanting to push her any farther. It wasn’t safe to use telepathy around humans at the best of times, and his mind was all over the place.

What?!, his wife screeched in his head.

Not you, he quickly backpedalled. We’ve been over this, remember? You’ve got the activated genes for it.

Not that, you plum! You went in her head?!

“And someone clear up this glass,” Miss. Hartman was saying, interrupting the silent row that was starting up between them. “They did warn me, Doctor. They said you like to make a mess.”

“They’re not wrong there,” Rose agreed, standing up awfully primly and crossing her arms.

The Doctor pouted up at her.

I wasn’t in her head, it was just a projected suggestion. Just- just like really loudly thinking in her direction, he tried to explain. I’m a touch telepath, I can’t properly enter another mind without direct contact. Well, aside from you, obviously.

And that works? Thinking loudly at someone?, his bondmate scoffed over their connection, disbelief apparent.

When you’re a telepath? Yes. Sometimes.

And in his case, with great difficulty. Really, he’d just gotten lucky.

It was just luck?

The Doctor sighed before finally standing, forced to move out of the way by the workers who had arrived surprisingly quickly to clean up the glass. Right, no barriers at all now, and no mental energy to make more. Rose obviously still had her own, since he wasn’t getting a stream of endless random thoughts and feelings. Well, this was going to be embarrassing. Actually-

Do you have a headache right now?, he asked her, briefly glancing at the workers around them before taking her hand. The ones that were obviously part of the Ghost Shift program had started typing on their computers again.

No, not really.

How’s that?

It didn’t make sense. He felt awful, the Void and the shifting, snarled up timelines constantly grating at his senses.

I mean, for a second there I thought I might pass out, but then I just kind of … I dunno, turned off the weird stuff?

And oh, how he wished he could figure out exactly what she meant by that, but now - unfortunately - wasn’t the time. Glass taken care of, Yvonne was now entering her office, nodding at them to follow. They both glanced back at the wall where the Void sat, waiting.

“C’mon,” his wife whispered, finally giving him a smile as she grabbed the chair and pushed it in front of her.

His gratitude, the Doctor was sure, must have been abundantly apparent. He took a deep breath before they both followed Yvonne into her office. Rose took a seat in what had been his chair, so the Doctor took the other.

“No,” Miss. Hartman was quick to correct, hands on her hips, “that’s my seat. We’ll get another.”

He turned to his wife just in time to see her rolling her eyes while failing to suppress a grin. Yvonne made the request, and by the time he walked around the desk again, a worker was rolling another chair in. They were quite efficient, he’d give them that. Then again, they had still not managed to get him his tea, so …

They’re not getting paid to listen to you, Rose commented. They’d be paid to bring Yvonne Hartman tea.

The Doctor smiled at her sarcasm as he got comfortable in his new chair, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning back. Blimey, he was tired.

“So these ghosts, whatever they are,” Yvonne asked, getting straight back into it, “did they build the sphere?”

“Must have,” he replied, not that he really knew. “Aimed it at this dimension like a cannonball.”

Though if the ‘ghosts’ were following in the void ship’s wake, he was partly curious and mostly terrified to find out what was actually inside the craft. Hopefully just more of whatever the ghosts really were, but possibly some sort of weapon. Who knew? Hopefully they would never have to find out.

Rose began chewing at a fingernail, looking out the window.

“And the energy?”

He raised both eyebrows, though wasn’t completely surprised that these humans would gladly siphon power even while not understanding how it was being generated. Problem was, they shouldn’t be able to do any of it and wouldn’t be able to do any of it without the alien technology they had stolen. Timelines strobed in and out, faster and faster and faster.

“I could use some energy,” the Doctor replied. “Quite the day I’ve been having. Where is that tea?”

His wife took his hand, weaving their fingers together as Miss. Hartman gazed skyward for a moment before (finally) ordering the tea.

Is there anything I can do to help?, Rose asked.

I doubt it. Since you can’t sense all of this, and I would not want to show you, it’s not as if I can even-

Before he could finish the thought, his mind was suddenly full of Rose and light and love and over half of his senses cut off. There were no more tangling timelines blinking in and out of existence - there were no more timelines at all .

The Doctor blinked, trying not to panic.

Yvonne said something, but he wasn’t sure what. Wasn’t paying attention, as he realized that his wife wasn’t in his head.

No.

She had pulled him into hers.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, wiggling his fingers in front of his face. It was so strange. His mind was still in his body, but yet … not? There was a slight lag between thought and action - about 5 picoseconds.

You are amazing, he exclaimed over the bond.

Rose grinned, mind radiating smugness.

How did you even figure out how to do this?

They certainly hadn’t gone over it during any of their telepathy lessons. And he hadn’t yet had the chance to look for more specific information, being as he’d only just found out how it all worked.

I don’t know, Rose’s mental voice admitted, uncertainty coating the words. I just kinda imagined what I wanted to do and then … I don’t know.

Blimey, she was going to be a much stronger telepath than he was.

“I asked what you would have us do if you had your way. You said send it back, but how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Ah. Good question. And where things got downright complicated (not that they weren’t already). The Doctor gave Rose’s hand a squeeze and then let go, wanting to determine if touch was a factor in this newfound ability of hers? Theirs? He wasn’t sure, had only ever done anything remotely similar when invasively telepathically connected with someone, touching their psi-points. This was much, much different.

The connection held.

And most importantly, for the moment - overall it was completely unsustainable, not having access to most of his senses - he could think clearly.

“I’ll need access to your equipment, and a comprehensive list of exactly what alien technologies you have at your disposal, because there’s a chance you may have what I need to properly seal and contain excess void particles. And I’ll need the TARDIS.”

“A comprehensive list? Hah! Nice try, Doctor. The relevant equipment, I may be able to allow.”

“May?”

“Torchwood serves Queen and Country, and there are calls I would have to make.” Now she didn’t look amused.

“Make them,” he urged.

“And when they ask about the energy?” she requested, eyebrows raised.

Calculations raced through his head.

“Well, there’d have to be energy sending them back. So you’d have that, right?” Rose piped in before he could compare the results with historical precedence - took longer without his time senses.

Point was, his wife was right, pretty much. And now wasn’t really the time to get picky. They were going to have to compromise.

“A lot of energy in the transfer,” he agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Run the maths yourself, but reversing all of the particles will take up the energy of key commands, power usage normal, and the energy created by all of the particles reversing at once would be massive. Long term may not be what you wanted, but I also doubt you wanted to annihilate the planet and potentially destroy all of reality, so …”

The Doctor shrugged.

Got a little rude, there, Rose oh so helpfully pointed out.

“We’ll just have to see what they say,” Yvonne said, though she didn’t look convinced, even as she began typing quickly on her computer.

You’ve got to admit, at least it’s progress, he had to point out.

Yvonne looked away from her computer, immediately turning toward the ghost shift control area right outside.

“Excuse me?” she called, getting up from her desk, “Everyone? I thought I said ‘stop the ghost shift’.”

Both he and Rose turned toward where she was now shouting out of the doorway.

“Who started the program?”

Not a single person was reacting. The Doctor stood up, taking his wife’s hand as they slowly followed Miss. Hartman out of her office. This was not good not good not good, and he could really use access to a few more senses right about now.

“But I ordered you to stop? Who’s doing this? Right, step away from the monitors, everyone.”

I’ve not exactly trapped you here, y’know, Rose pointed out, thoughts laced with anxiety as she looked from person to person, blankly typing at their monitors.

“Gareth, Addy, stop what you’re doing right now,” Yvonne ordered, the words having no effect. “Matt, step away from your desk.”

The Doctor stretched his awareness, finding that he had more energy than he thought he’d had as he tentatively shifted across their bond, the action feeling like simply walking through a door in his own mind for all of the effort it took. With great care, he was able to selectively access more of his senses without too much discomfort from all of his time senses.

“Matt, step away from your desk! That’s an order!” Yvonne shouted, and he now sensed her building panic. “Stop the levers! Andrew!”

Workers ran in, trying to manually stop the levers without much success.

He could sense nothing from the employees controlling the program.

“Look at their ears,” Rose breathed, memories from their own trip across the void engulfing the part of his awareness still resting deeply within her mind.

Their ears.

He listened for another moment before pinpointing the one typing the fastest.

“What’s she doing?” the Doctor wondered aloud as he marched over to the one who Rose identified as Addy, making note of how deeply connected they still were but unable to properly address it. Didn’t have the time.

“Addy, step away from the desk,” Yvonne urged as both she and Rose followed him.

He snapped his fingers in front of Addy’s eyes, not getting a single reaction.

No one home.

“Listen to me,” Yvonne continued as Rose stifled a gasp before turning and waving her hand in front of the man across the aisle, “Step away from the desk - oh! The call’s connected!”

“She can’t hear you anyway,” he told her, dread forming in the pit of his stomach as he turned toward the monitor. “They’re overriding the system. We’re going into ghost shift.”

With great reluctance, well aware that the results would be exceedingly unpleasant, the Doctor reactivated his time senses. Because he needed to know what exactly was happening in order to fully monitor the situation.

“Hello, this is Torchwood One, calling mayday, threat level alpha, activation code eight- four- delta- whisky- zero- seven- foxtrot,” Yvonne recited over her comm.

Sensations slammed into him all at once, timelines knotted together and breaking off, the spin of the planet speeding up and slowing down at a rate unnoticeable to the humans. He zeroed in on the devices attached to Addy’s ears.

“It’s the ear piece,” he bit out, swiftly becoming overwhelmed by the activating void but unable to retreat. He couldn’t afford the luxury. “It’s controlling them. I’ve seen this before.”

Of all the parallel worlds, really.

“Situation is dire,” Hartman continued into the phone. “We are requesting backup immediately. The Ghost Shift has been compromised, the Doctor is assisting.”

Hey, that’s where Mickey is, his wife pointed out even as she placed a hand between his shoulder blades, offering him comfort for what would have to come next. With great reluctance, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He sonicked Addy’s ear pod, and within moments she and all of the other partially converted Torchwood employees screamed before collapsing at their desks.

“What happened?” Yvonne demanded, eyes wide in terror as she likely realized she’d lost complete control over the situation - welcome to his world, really. Typical Tuesday, that. “What did you just do?”

“They’re dead,” he informed her, not having time to sugar coat it.

Despite their connected minds, Rose reached down and felt around for Addy’s pulse point.

“Is it really …” his wife paused, finding herself unable to say it all out loud. “Again, but here? Or …”

The Doctor could feel her mind racing as he attempted to gain control of the ghost shift program. Yvonne’s attention returned to her call, though he stopped paying attention.

“I think I know exactly where they’re coming from,” he admitted, loathe to be the one to confirm her fears, but unwilling (not to mention completely unable) to lie to her.

“But … Mickey was- and Jake, and-”

An image of her parallel father flashed through both their minds as Rose clenched her jaw.

Every sense the Doctor had was positively screaming as the seconds ticked on by and the tear widened.

“We’ll figure it out,” he near shouted as it all became too much.

Just as he managed to apologize mentally, Rose seemed to breach his mind even as a large portion of his consciousness remained in hers. The pain seemed to dull, sensations cushioned by the added presence.

Please, please tell me you can’t feel this, he found himself pleading, both grateful for the respite and horrified that the pain might simply be being transferred.

M’fine, his bondmate assured him. I’m just trying to help you make barriers.

Oh.

Well.

Huh.

While he had helped her construct some in their initial training, the Doctor had to admit that the sensation of someone doing it for him was novel.

“They’re patching into our systems. What are those ear pieces?” Yvonne asked.

“Don’t,” he ordered as he continued entering commands into the system. It wasn’t overly complex, but the time crunch was a bit of an ask. As much as he wanted to spare her the horror, he couldn’t afford to make time for sentiment.

“But they’re standard comms devices,” Miss. Hartman insisted as Rose stepped away from the desk, getting a better look at the levers.

“Trust me, leave them alone,” the Doctor insisted as he raced over to another terminal.

“But what are they?” he heard her ask, but ignored the question.

There were multiple universes on the line, after all. And nothing he tried was working.

“Ugh!” Yvonne’s exclaimed. “Oh, God!” He had warned her. “It goes inside their brain!”

“What about the Ghost Shift?” he asked, needing their host-slash-captor back on track. The Doctor looked up from the monitor at the bright, terrifying tear in spacetime opening up mere feet away from them all.

“Ninety percent there and still running,” she replied, quickly joining him at the desk. “Can’t you stop it?”

“They’re still controlling it, they’ve hijacked the system,” the Doctor quickly explained, standing up and pulling out his sonic screwdriver.

“Who’s they?” Yvonne asked, and nope! No time to get into that.

“It might be a remote transmitter,” he continued as he scanned the area, “but it’s got to be close by. I can trace it.”

With that, he ran, following the signal, dimly aware that Yvonne Hartman was tagging along.

“Keep those levers down,” she ordered as they raced out of the room. “Keep them offline! Help is coming.”

Rose broke away from where she’d been helping the others holding the levers back, quickly overtaking Miss. Hartman but still hanging back slightly.

You weren’t tryin’ ta leave without me, were you?, his wife asked, her mental landscape pulsing with agitation.

Wouldn’t dream of it, the Doctor assured her. After all, she had complete access to every single thought in his head now. He was fine to leave it entirely up to Rose, whether or not to follow him into near certain death. Not like he could stop her any other time.

“You two, you come with us,” Yvonne ordered a pair of soldiers walking past, not that it would do them any good.

They all slowed down, following his lead as they neared the source of the signal.

“What’s down here?” he asked as they reached a section of hall blocked off by plastic.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Yvonne admitted. “I think it’s building work. It’s just renovations.”

“You should go back,” the Doctor told her, taking his wife’s hand before carefully passing into the cordoned off area.

“Think again,” Miss. Hartman scoffed, once again ignoring his advice. It’s as if she truly didn’t understand that he was trying to help her.

We’ll figure this out, Rose assured him this time, despite knowing that he was completely aware of the terror and doubt pulsing through her headspace.

I love you, the Doctor told her, hoping that it wouldn’t be his last chance to say it.

I love you, too.

It wasn’t long before they reached the source … though he couldn’t see anything. At least, nothing obvious.

“What is it?” Yvonne asked. “What’s down here?”

“Ear pieces, ear pods,” he finally began to explain. “This world’s colliding with another, and I think I know which one.”

“We’ve met them before,” Rose continued, just as metal footsteps began clanging from every direction, shadows appearing to circle them behind the flimsy curtains.

“Fell through a crack on accident. Should have been impossible. Now we know why,” the Doctor elaborated, shifting so that his wife was directly behind him - connected lifespans or not, he was the one who could regenerate (hopefully).

“What are they?”

“They came through first. The advanced guard,” he told her, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and doing a rather poor job of it as the creatures surrounding them ripped through the plastic. “Cybermen.”

Rose and Yvonne both ducked as the soldiers began to open fire, and he grabbed both their hands in an attempt to get away that was thwarted before they’d even managed to move more than a few feet.

“We surrender!” the Doctor quickly announced, raising his hands above his head to show he was unarmed as the sounds of gunfire faded. He swallowed, blinking a few times and not allowing himself to turn around.

“Yeah, we surrender!” Rose quickly followed suit, gaze straight forward.

He turned to Yvonne, raising his eyebrows and giving her a slight wave.

“I surrender,” she - finally - agreed through gritted teeth, throwing up her hands.

They were quickly marched back to the Ghost Shift area, escorted into the room with guns to their backs.

“Get away from the machines,” the Doctor shouted. “Do what they say. Don’t fight them!”

Before the scientists at the levers had time to move, they were shot down.

“We are the Cyberman,” one of their captors announced - likely the Cyberleader. “The Ghost Shift will be increased to one hundred percent.”

The timelines around them had become utter chaos within the past fifteen minutes - the Doctor wasn’t sure how he would possibly be able to see straight, never mind think properly once the breach was fully opened.

If it’s not helping, just let go, his wife insisted, tugging him back toward her mind. Despite the fight or flight responses bombarding her systems, it was still much simpler in there, cut off from the nauseating sensations of slowly crumbling dimensions.

Glad my primitive human brain can help, Rose’s (slightly sarcastic) mental voice echoed around him as the levers raised.

“Here come the ghosts,” he warned, bracing himself.

Even cut off from his time senses, the full activation was brutal. The Doctor could sense the barriers Rose had made earlier shatter, despite his primary consciousness being nowhere near them. He grimaced, doing his best to keep the pain of it from touching his wife’s mind. No wonder it was so easy for her to move him telepathically - he no longer had any defenses.

They shielded their eyes, watching as a growing number of spectral figures approached through the rift.

“What are we going to do?” Rose asked, clinging to his side as the strain of protecting them both inside her head began to wear on her.

His precious girl. So, so strong. The last thing he wanted to tell her was that he didn’t know, but the most he could do was not say the words. The last thing he wanted her to feel was his own fear, but all he could do was put on a brave face. Everything else was transparent, an open book.

“Achieving full transfer,” the Cyberleader declared.

The Doctor watched as the forms solidified. “They’re Cybermen. All of the ghosts are Cybermen. Millions of them, right across the world.”

“They’re invading the whole planet,” Yvonne stated, and he noticed the blinking light on her ear piece indicating that she was still in a call.

“It’s not an invasion,” he corrected. “It’s too late for that. It’s a victory.”

“You’re the ones who gave it to them,” Rose couldn’t help but point out.

Yvonne opened her mouth only to clamp it shut again as the nearest computer began to repeat ‘Sphere Activated’ on a loop, claiming each of their attentions as data flashed on the screen. The Doctor frowned, eyes widening as he tried to make sense of it all.

How did a Cyber Invasion lead to a Void ship?

How did a Void ship lead to a Cyber Invasion?

Calculation after calculation, and none of them added up.

“But I don’t understand,” the Doctor stepped forward, commanding notice, needing to know. “The Cybermen don’t have the technology to build a void ship. That’s way beyond you. How did you create the sphere?”

“The sphere is not ours,” the nearest Cyberman replied.

“What?”

But … it was active.

It had activated precisely when the Cybermen fully manifested out of the void.

Sure, it didn’t make much sense for it to be theirs, but if not …

“The sphere broke down the barriers between worlds. We only followed. Its origin is unknown,” the Cyberman continued.

“Then what’s inside it?” the Doctor asked, despite knowing that the answer wasn’t coming.

#ten x rose #tenrose #time petals #ficandchips #dw fanfiction #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: tangled timelines #my fic

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nerdlifecentral · 4 years ago

Text

Unknown Secrets [3]

Summary: Y/n joins the hunt for the mysterious nephidemon, but she finds out some shocking information that brings them closer to saving this town from the clutches of Asmodeus’ child.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader, Gabriel, Castiel, Mick, Ketch, Asmodeus

Pairing: everyone platonic

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff

Word Count: 3,906

Warnings: none :)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but here it finally is! <3

I pull up next to Baby in front of the small motel. "So we meet again, beautiful." I say lovingly, patting the roof of Dean's beloved car. I walk up to room number 63. The six has a loose screw which makes it look more like a nine, so I hope it really is room 63.

My anxiety is quelled when I see Ketch open the door with a wide, relaxed smile. "Hello, darling. I hope you didn't spend all of last night trying to research just to show off,” he says while giving me a hug and playfully winks, prompting Mick to shake his head from his spot at a small table across from Sam, whose laptop is open and running some sort of crazy code.

"No, not this time. Although I have always been the brains behind the operations when it comes to you two."

Mick let out a chuckle while Ketch simply rolls his eyes and went to lounge on the couch. Sam then gets up, somewhat awkwardly and offers a quick hug.

"So," he starts, "me and Dean tried to dig up anything extra we could have skipped over in either demon lore or any offspring they could produce." I nod for him to continue as he takes a seat and turns his computer towards me. "The only thing that could be a possible lead is the tracking spell Rowena used and there's been a history of weird weather patterns - especially lightning storms for almost forty years. So that means that either Asmodeus or his child has been here for at least forty years."

I rest my chin on my hand and think about what could explain this Prince of Hell living in my town for forty years. I mean, how have I never ran into him or seen anything weird even once?

The door opens and in walks Dean with lots of beer and various snacks, along with a pie that I assume to be cherry.

"Alright, what's the game plan guys? FBI or some basic computer research?" Dean asks, putting away his items and walking over to his bed and plopping down looking at me.

"Sam was just catching us up on the weather stuff y'all found last night." I respond, noticing Sam's open laptop. "Although I think it would make the most sense if Asmodeus was here for, let's say, twenty years, scoping the place out and getting other Hunters to believe that the storms would be normal so no one bats an eye once his child is born, and they could live here for maybe twenty more years, completely undetected."

After a short pause, Mick speaks up, "It is certainly possible and the most likely lead we have. Why else would he want to risk staying in one area for that long?"

Sam sighs and nods in agreement and slides his computer to face himself again.

"So, y/n," Dean starts and I pick my head up and look to him, "has anyone ever seemed off to you or someone you heard of being born thirty to forty years ago?"

I snort a laugh and respond. "You named most of the folks in this town. Most people have grown up here all their lives and don't really have the desire to move away. Not many long term or consistent visitors either."

Ketch stands up from the couch and walks over to Mick snatching a notebook sitting next to him. He says, "alright, who could be the most likely candidates for being this monster, y/n?"

I rubbed my eyes and leaned back, trying to narrow down who to say, but all I could see were faces morphing into each other and names swirling through my thoughts. "How should I narrow it down?" I ask with my eyes closed for a moment, opening them only because of the sound of Sam typing on his computer and Ketch speaking.

"Let's start with anyone especially strange or out of the ordinary, people between thirty and forty who have lived here their whole lives, only children, maybe anyone who doesn't know their parents or their mother died in birth."

I take a deep breath and start naming people that fit any or all of the criteria Ketch described while explaining which characteristics they have as Ketch writes the addresses that I can remember and Sam types up the list.

It takes us a few hours of narrowing down and organizing everyone into sizable chunks and who our most likely hidden monster is. Luckily, everyone lived nearby and Dean brought back some good food choices. Well, as good as gas station and tiny grocery store food can get.

"I vote we get a move on with this list and split up a bit to cover more ground." Ketch suggests.

Sam glances at Dean as he says "Works for me. We going for FBI on this one?"

The group nods as Dean butts in saying, "We'll go through the people in these neighborhoods," he waves his hand over the section towards the east, "and you three can take the rest." He says while pointing at me.

"Alright, let's get ready and get a move on." I say, standing up and walking out to grab some gear. I can’t help but think how odd it is that I have grown up with these people and all this time one of them could be such a horrible, dangerous creature. My palms almost itch with the anticipation of making my town, and the world a safer place. But I can’t help but wonder if we’re making the right decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Last house will be just to the left of Willow Street.” Mick says from the passenger side, directing Ketch to our final stop before it got too late.

I don’t even know how we’re gonna find this nephidemon at this point. No one we’ve talked to all day has said or remembered anything that would help us remotely. Hopefully Sam and Dean have had some better luck, I think as Ketch pulls up to the curb across from the house.

We all climb out of the car and casually walk up to the front door, Ketch and Mick with their badges and me prepared for the endless complaints this case will earn me from the locals for bringing the feds to their doorsteps. But, if I can possibly help out Mick, Ketch, Cas, and the Winchesters with something like Asmodeus or his freak kids, then it’s worth it. The door opens revealing Fred and his wife, Josie with polite smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Fred and Josie! How have you guys been?” I ask, smiling warmly.

Josie responds for them both. “We’re doing just fine, dear. You should join us for game night next time!”

I laugh and nod enthusiastically, about to explain and introduce the two "agents" beside me when Fred beats me to it. “Who are your friends? They visitors?” he interjects with slightly narrowed eyes and hands shoved in his pockets.

“Of course, my apologies. These are FBI agents McCullough and Morgan.” They both hold up their badges with calm expressions. “They’re old friends of mine and have been looking for someone they think might have been hanging around here for awhile. I figured you both have excellent memories and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind us taking a few moments of your day to help them find a potential suspect?” I slightly tilt my head and try to look as innocent and eager to help as possible. Fred and Josie have always treated me as one of their own children and I certainly hope Ketch doesn’t offend them in any way.

“It’s no problem at all. Very nice to meet you gentlemen. As y/n stated I am Josie Hutcherson and this is my husband, Fred.” Josie, being the polite and kind person that she is, shook hands with Ketch and Mick, welcoming us all inside.

One nice thing about living in a small town is how nothing really changes; not the people, the drama, and not any buildings save for the occasional fresh coat of paint or new lamp. Having something constant is always welcome, especially when it feels like the world is ending.

"What case did you say you were helping them with, y/n?" I'm drawn out of thoughts by Mrs. Hutcherson kindly sitting down across from Mick and Ketch, Fred still choosing to stand near his wife with crossed arms.

"They're trying to track the movement of a very dangerous criminal, they have reason to believe he stayed here awhile back and then left."

Josie smiles at me and turns back to the "agents" to speak, but Fred says, "Uh huh. And why does the FBI want to take up your time in this what I would think would be a highly classified search?"

Fred may mean well, but words were always something he left to Josie. Hopefully he's only put off by Mick and Ketch, I would really hate for them to be hiding this demon kid.

"Y/n here knows almost every person in this town, and from what she's told us she is extremely attentive as well." Mick offers, "We were looking around aimlessly until we met her. My partner actually was interviewing her and she offered to help us look around town for a little bit." He gave a reassuring smile towards Josie and a firm nod towards Fred.

"Now, have either of you noticed anyone strange at all in the past thirty to forty years? They would be extremely charismatic but slightly arrogant as well. And maybe looked something close to this picture." Ketch asks while pulling out a picture of the current vessel of Asmodeus. Even though we aren't sure he was in this vessel when having a kid, it's the best bet we have in recognizing him at all.

Both Josie and Fred denied anyone acting out of the ordinary or ever seeing that picture before. I could tell Mick and Ketch wanted to keep interviewing Josie since she was more open, so I tried to get Fred a little ways away to get through to him better. "I know that you don't really care for the FBI and sticking their noses where nothing has happened, Fred. "He uncrosses his arms with a sigh and a reluctant nod. "But this guy is a really bad guy and they asked me who would be the most attentive people to ask about. And you and your wife were the first I thought of, that's all."

After Fred agrees to be more open to answering their questions, I smile and thank him before walking back out toward the living room where Mick and Ketch are standing up.

"Y/n, I believe we shouldn't take up anymore of these people's time. Thank you both so much for all your help." Mick says with a kind smile and handshake with Josie, then Fred.

"Thank you Josie and Fred, I'll come over when I can," I say with a wave out the door and down the sidewalk. Mick and Ketch also exit and walk back to their car.

"Anything you guys picked up on?" I question, lowering my voice with caution.

Ketch closes his eyes and with a short huff of air responds "Not really. The only odd thing Mrs. Hutcherson mentioned were the persistent lightning storms that drove everyone inside, except for this one time. There was a man and a small child who were outside in the middle of the road, completely unprotected. Just gazing up into the sky for a few hours...."

Thunder, so loud that it feels as though the earth beneath my feet shakes. I look up in wonder as brilliant flashes of lightning take over the dark sky. A warm hand rests on my shoulder, its presence keeping me focused and grounded.

I glance up to the man, who has a prideful smile and warm eyes, and I remember feeling safe despite the chaos and danger surrounding us.

The man speaks, sounding southern and calm. "My daughter, this will be our last night together, I was hoping for more time with you but it's far too dangerous." I tilt my head in question, turning to face him more. He continues, "Someday all of this will seem like a dream for you. That's when your purpose will become clear. And we will be united once again."

I feel tears starting to form, this is my father, he can't abandon me now! "But father, when will that happen? And how long after I remember will I see you again?" He bends down to my level taking both my hands in his.

"I know I will miss you, my child, but I would rather feel this heartache than know you are at risk from Hunters. They are so dangerous and you must always be careful around them. Alright?" I nod my head and hug my father, one last time. I hear him speak once more. "I love you, never forget that." And the whole world goes silent.

I faintly hear voices speaking to me but I couldn't make out what they are saying. I know it’s Mick and Ketch. What on Earth are they doing here? The entire case comes flooding back to me, the Winchesters, Asmodeus, his kid, my strange hallucination. I struggle to open my eyes met with blinding light and someone, Sam, I think, sitting next to me.

"I'm sorry Sam, but there is no way for me to understand why she fainted. She appears to be in good health, not dehydrated, having enough food and energy. I can't find anything wrong." Cas says, slightly leaning his head back from his place at the end of a bed, near a small mirror on the wall.

I try to sit up and ask what's going on, but Sam gently pushes my shoulders back onto the mattress.

"Hey, y/n don’t sit up yet, alright? You've been passed out for a while. Do you remember anything?" Sam speaks calmly and softly, as though speaking too loud may cause me to lose consciousness yet again.

"I remember helping you guys on a case," I start, realizing how quiet my voice is and how hard it is to speak clearly. "You and Dean went to interview some people and Mick, Ketch, and me did the same. I remember leaving their house and walking out to the car..." I trail off, too unsure of how much I should reveal before learning whether it's a weird vision, or... a memory? I shake my head at the thought. It's simply impossible. I glance at Sam then Castiel while saying "I think that's all I can remember, sorry."

Sam gives a gentle smile just as the front door opens, revealing Dean, Ketch, and another person. He's the shortest out of all the men but has a confidence about himself, sandy blond hair that's longer than Dean's but shorter than Sam's, with beautiful whiskey colored eyes.

"Morning, Sunshine. Feeling any better?" Ketch asks, dragging my attention away from the newcomer.

"A little. My brain is still kinda foggy though. What happened?" I ask, looking between Mick and Ketch hoping they can help me discern reality from fiction.

"Well," Mick begins, "we had finished interviewing the Hutchersons and walked out to our car. I told you what Mrs. Hutcherson had told us about seeing a man and a child during a lightning storm, and you fainted."

He explained, taking a seat on my other side. I just stared at him for a while, trying to understand what had happened. I'm not a person who regularly faints, and this simply cannot be a coincidence.

"Okay, um thank you." I say, surprised at how numb I sound. "Also, who are you?" I ask, looking at the strange man sitting at the table with Dean.

He smirks and responds "I'm Gabriel, like the Archangel." He puts his hands next to his shoulders, waving them to mimic flying.

Dean rolls his eyes while Cas stares annoyed at Gabriel's actions. I guess that sort of makes them brothers?

"Naturally. Well, I'm y/n and didn't realize you were joining us." I tilt my head at Mick slightly and he makes a point to stare at Sam across from me.

"Yeah well neither did we." Dean speaks up, glancing at Cas.

The angel sighs and faces me "Gabriel was kidnapped by Asmodeus for his grace, a little over four months ago. Ketch used to work with him and was able to get Gabriel back to the bunker." I look to Ketch who looks down, almost in shame. Then to Gabriel who simply rests his head on his hand and shrugs. Cas continues, "I called Gabriel here since he deserves to be in on taking down Asmodeus, and it certainly won't hurt to have his help."

"But enough about me," Gabriel exclaims suddenly. He looks over to Sam, raising his hands up in question. Why can these idiots never just say what they need to say rather than act all secretive?

Sam takes a deep breath and turns slightly to better face me. "Y/n, I know you're not going to remember everything. But, " he pauses, searching my eyes while being careful to not give anything away.

"But...?" I prompt, looking around only to be met with Gabriel staring with anger towards me. Which is unbelievably rude and unfair, considering how I literally just met him.

"But, are you sure there's nothing else you can remember? Any detail or generic thing?" Sam finishes, with an understanding smile. I don't know what he could mean by that though, I mean, I was passed out for a long time and I don't think people can speak while being unconscious in that sense.

I shook my head no after thinking for a moment. Gabriel let's his head fall back in dramatic fashion while mumbling something under his breath.

"Sorry my answer isn't the one you wanted, Gabriel." His head snapped up and glared at me. What is this guy's problem? "But I barely remember even walking out to the car, let alone any specific details of our last interview."

"You're lying," Castiel said from the corner of the room, a perplexed look on his face. I wanted to ask what he meant but he continued, "you woke up in Ketch and Mick's car and described something very disturbing." I try not to shrink under the angel's condemning gaze; because I actually don't remember waking up at all until being in the motel. The disturbing thing I described, I don't think I will ever be able to forget.

"I don't remember that at all. I had no idea I woke up before five minutes ago."

Gabriel stands up and snaps his fingers in one motion and I immediately find myself in the backseat of the Impala with Castiel next to me.

"What the hell was that for?!" I say trying to steady myself from falling to one side or the other.

Castiel barely spares me a look and explains "Gabriel snapped us both here to have some kind of privacy I assume."

I try to open the door handle but Cas reaches over to grab my arm, and locks the door. He refuses to let go of me whether because of my continued swaying or because he thinks I could outrun him or something.

"Okay, and what exactly are you doing here? I wouldn't think he would want privacy from you if he's saying his piece."

Castiel finally releases my arm but gives no answer, and instead, looks out the window.

I do the same hoping that Gabriel and the Hunters don't take all day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Back in the motel room)

Y/n and Cas had disappeared from the room thanks to Gabriel.

"Really, Gabe? You probably could've just asked them to leave the room for a minute." Sam says, exasperated with Gabriel already.

Gabriel takes a deep breath and slowly walks around the room, in deep thought.

Dean uncrosses his arms, letting them rest on either side of the motel chair while watching the archangel pace the room, waiting for an answer.

"What have you got to say that you didn't feel y/n or Cas should hear then?" Mick stands from the bed and asks, squaring his shoulders and walking towards Gabriel with annoyance.

Gabriel pauses his movements, stopping in front of Mick while saying, "Cas already knows what I'm gonna tell you, that's why he's with y/n right now." He turns back looking at Ketch. "She did just wake up after being knocked out for a few hours and I'd rather not be responsible for a casualty already."Gabriel brushes by Ketch to sit on the spot that he vacated. "And I doubt she would appreciate her being told how probable it is that she is this nephidemon we've been looking for."

The room falls silent as the Hunters process his words.

"And why exactly do you think this?" Sam asks Gabriel, a shocked expression on his face. "She literally volunteered to help us with this case without any kind of convincing from any of us. If she is the nephidemon, then wouldn't she want to get as far away from all of us as possible?"

Gabriel closes his eyes and leans his head against the bed's worn bed frame, "Sam, I can't put my finger on it but when I first saw her, she reminded me of Asmodeus all over again." He slowly opens his eyes, keeping them focused on the ceiling missing the spark within them. I can only assume that kind of trauma doesn’t leave a person - or archangel I guess unaffected.

"Well, try to. We have to figure this out now, or come up with a plan on testing her or something," Dean says, rubbing his temples still trying to understand how y/n could have played them all along. How she could have played Ketch and Mick for even longer.

Gabriel sighed saying, "I don’t know if this will make you feel better, I doubt she knows herself if she's related to Asmodeus. She doesn't act like him at all, and from what you've said she sounded confused, scared even by what happened when she passed out."

The group relaxes but only slightly. "How could she possibly not know?" Ketch thinks aloud, "and why would a single memory or hallucination suddenly reemerge right now?"

Gabriel only shrugs, not really being able to provide any kind of a possible answer or solution. Mick shakes his head and offers "He could have wiped her memory in order to protect her. That is why we initially thought the nephidemon would be here for so long." Dean slowly nods while Sam rubs his eyes in frustration. "And maybe Ketch describing what Mrs. Hutcherson saw triggered part of her memory to come back; why she passed out."

The men sat in silence, mulling over everything Gabriel brought up, before anyone could move to suggest anything further, the archangel snapped his fingers and slowly let his hand drop back down to the bed.

"Figured it might be smarter to ask her about it, maybe search her memory or something." He states, beginning to act a bit more normal, as they wait tensely for y/n and Cas to walk back through the door.

#supernatural #castiel #gabriel #mick davies #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn #fanfic #reader insert

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queeenpersephone · 4 years ago

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Hello! I’d love to see what you have written for the Good Omens/Doctor Who story! ☺️

yay! okay this is literally just copy/pasted from my doc for this fic (about 2k), so the plot probably won’t be obvious but hopefully it’s still enjoyable to read! i just don’t think i’m ever gonna finish it because i never finished good omens

without further ado...

take it up with the badlands

summary: If he wants her to stay, he’ll have to fight those who shaped the universe. And they could, he knows. He is an immortal demon, no longer bent to the will of heaven or hell. She is the Bad Wolf, Goddess of Time and Space, capable of feats even he can barely imagine. That’s not even in question. The question is: would she ever actually want to stay with him?

Deep down, Crowley knows the answer. And it’s not a happy one.

The white haired man looks her up and down, a mask of evaluation on his face, before grimacing in distaste. “Oh, I suppose I know why you’re here,” he announces when he has finished deducing. “Wish you people would leave him alone,” he adds under his breath.

Rose just smiles, playing along. Maybe the man this man speaks of is someone who can help her - the reason Bad Wolf sent her here. “Sorry, can I just wait for him here, then?” She twists one of the hoops in her ears, giving the bookseller a bright grin.

Instead of looking reassured, the gentleman looks even more unsettled.

“I've been working on this top secret project for years now,” she tells them. “The Dimension Cannon - supposed to get me back to my proper universe. Only, someone noticed I wasn’t aging that quick, so they somehow got my blood from my files and ran some tests. Still don’t know what they found, but a couple days later my stepdad was deposed. He only had the resources to get my mum and my little brother to a safe house before they killed him.” She swallows hard. “I was tortured for about four months.”

Aziraphale murmurs a sympathetic “oh dear!” but makes no move to comfort her. Crowley tries to refrain from rolling his eyes: angels have a great sense of empathy, but really know shit about showing it.

“Anyway, I escaped. Been on the run for a month or so - saw something in your window that made me think this was a safe place.” Something in her eyes tells Crowley that she won’t tell them what it was, not yet. “I figure something about this universe makes me age slower, but they thought I was alien. After all the crazy shit that’s happened in the last decade, they felt betrayed, I guess.”

Crowley shrugs. “You are, though.”

Rose starts. “What?”

“You’re an alien,” Crowley clarifies unhelpfully.

Aziraphale takes over. “What Crowley is trying to say, my dear, is that you are neither angel nor demon, but you are an immortal. Quite a powerful one, I sense.”

Rose’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Well, love,” Crowley drawls, “seeing as you’re probably going to be here awhile, you might as well come for drinks.” He drapes a loose arm over her shoulder, leading her out the door as Aziraphale closes up shop behind them.

“Are you tempting right now?” Rose teases, but he can see the shock and pain that still hide behind those golden eyes. Crowley’s never had mortal attachments, and he’s not the type to be empathetic, but he still acknowledges that it must be difficult. He’s only known this newly immortal human for an hour, but he can already see how strong she is. “‘Cause I’d rather have a friend,” she admits.

Crowley, thankfully, is saved from responding by Aziraphale’s gentle hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Ah, my dear, I’m quite sure we’ll get along splendidly! My demon friend here is slower to trust, but he’ll come around.”

“Oi, right here,” Crowley grumbles, but he manages a soft smirk at Rose as they stride off to their favorite bar. He’ll get to the bottom of this anomaly if it kills him.

To Crowley, Rose is a walking contradiction.

She has a dark sense of humor and a penchant for danger and trouble, with a generally mischievous air that Crowley has always associated with demons. Yet, her staunch sense of right and wrong and blinding optimism could only belong to an angel. Well, Aziraphale, at least. The rest of the lot are right bastards.

And she’s so far out of the rest of the humans’ league that she might as well be in another universe.

From one, Crowley mentally corrects. Then he wonders when this little goddess-human prototype began to take up so much space in his conscious thought. The space usually reserved for good tea and terrorizing plants and tight jeans - now filled up with thoughts about Rose Tyler’s bright laugh and bad jokes and uncertain fate.

“There’s something you’re not telling us, love,” Crowley observes.

“Yeah,” she admits, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. ��Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I trust you.” Crowley makes an impatient shooing motion with his hands. “Yeah, okay, so in my universe, I sort of absorbed the time vortex? Long story short, I controlled all of Time for a few minutes - the Doctor said I would’ve burned, but he took it out of me.” Rose shrugs. “Anyway, the torture I went through.. that’s how I discovered I can kinda… control it, I guess.”

“Control it?” Crowley leans forward into her space, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Rose gestures around. “It’d be easier if I showed you - Aziraphale, do you have anything in the shop you’re not attached to?”

Crowley nearly loses it at his friend’s offended and very concerned expression. Oh, this girl is only proving herself to be more and more precious.

“You’re God, huh?” Rose knows, gazing intently at the shadowy figure in the corner of her dream.

The figure straightens, but Rose still can’t make out any singular feature. It’s a woman, surely, but nothing else. “Bad Wolf, you do not belong in this universe,” God says, and Rose rolls her eyes.

“Took ya kind of long to figure that out, yeah?”

God shrugs. “We couldn’t decide where you fit in with the Plan. And now We’ve decided you don’t fit, so We are sending you back.”

Rose's heart jumps at these words. “Back?” she stutters, “to the Doctor?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rose squints at Her. “You’re not doing it out of the kindness of your heart though, are ya?” God is silent, and then Rose knows. “You’re afraid,” she realizes. “You’re afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”

“We have no fear,” God says, but it is like She is shouting in Rose’s head.

Rose’s eyes flash gold. “I take your atoms…”

“ENOUGH.”

Rose wakes sweaty and exhilarated to the sweetest sound she has ever heard. To the sound of the TARDIS.

Crowley takes one look at the Doctor and the way he holds Rose’s hand, keeping her slightly behind him in a completely unnecessary protective stance that fires up Crowley’s indignation - he left her, he left her, he has no right to protect her - before shoving him up against the wall in a chokehold. If Rose hadn’t been panicking about the possibility of them killing each other, she would probably be a little turned on. The man she’s loved for years and the demon that made her smile again, both with the body and face of her dreams? It’s probably a good thing she’d only ever think about that possibility in hindsight.

“I fell,” Crowley growls, “through ash and fire. All for pride. Rose Tyler, all annoyingly empathetic and stupidly optimistic and fucking brilliant that she is - she helped me find peace. And that makes things very simple. If you hurt her, if she feels one ounce of pain that you had it in your power to prevent, I will fall to God’s feet and beg forgiveness for my sins just to travel between universes and rain hellfire down upon you.” His words have the same, ancient feel to them as the Doctor’s, the same cadence as holy scripture, as absolute truth, and Rose shivers. His voice is so low and heated that when she steps close between them and lays a hand on his chest to push him off the Doctor, even she can barely hear it. “And I’m quite good at that,” he adds, smirking down at Rose, who shakes her head at him with a soft smile on her face.

“It’s been a ride, gentlemen,” Rose says, sparing Aziraphale a friendly nod before gazing up at Crowley. “Thank you.” She rubs the fabric of the henley over Crowley’s heart, and he groans in frustration.

“C’mon, love,” he tries, “look at him! I’m sure I can give you at least twice as many orgasms.” Rose giggles, used to Crowley’s brand of humor, but doesn’t miss the sharp noise that the Doctor makes behind her. “I’ll make you see heaven,” he promises, but she can tell by his eyes that he already knows her answer.

The Doctor moves up behind her, twining an arm around her and pressing his palm to her stomach. “And with me, she’ll see stars,” his voice is low and dark, and Rose knows that they need to get onto the TARDIS before a full out brawl occurs in front of her.

So she takes the Doctor’s hand from her stomach, pressing a kiss to the back of it before shooing him back to the TARDIS. He goes, but he watches Crowley with sharp eyes.

“You’re better than you believe, yeah?” she whispers to the demon in front of her, cupping his cheek gently. “If I was meant to be here, in this universe, I’d be the one to show it to you. So you just gotta get back out there and find this universe’s match for you. I know they’re out there.” Her eyes dart to Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if something might eventually come from that. There’s history there, and they have the rest of eternity to figure it out. “Rely on your best friend, yeah?” She adds, wondering if a hint could turn into a catalyst.

“Rose-” Crowley begins hoarsely, before Rose dives her fingers into his ginger hair and pulls his lips down to meet hers.

It’s a soft, chaste peck, nothing like that drunken night, but the possibilities hit them both like a freight train. It’s not hard to imagine their endless days: going for drinks with Aziraphale, lounging at his bookshop, Rose following his angry rants at his plants with a soft touch to their leaves, Crowley tempting ordinary humans into sin and Rose tempting Crowley into bed. In fact, it’s easy, and when Rose feels the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes, she pulls away. “Bye, love,” she murmurs, borrowing his nickname before giving him a quick squeeze. His arms don’t have time to come around her before she is walking back to the Doctor, who brushes his lips against her forehead before she walks past him and into the TARDIS.

Crowley ignores the lump in his throat, but before he can walk away, a low tenor stops him.

“I’m the last of my kind,” the Doctor is saying, eyes dark and intent. “I’m the killer of my kind. I’ve spent my life trying to do the best thing for the universe, but rest assured, I’ll now be doing the best thing for Rose. Forever.”

Crowley nods in agreement with this promise, before letting a smile quirk at his lips. “Have you considered whether she’ll let you?” He asks.

The Doctor grins full on at this. “Oh,” he says, stepping into his transdimensional blue box. “I can see why she liked you.”

With a groan and wheeze, the Bad Wolf disappears from this universe. God is satisfied, but Crowley sets out to get really, really drunk.

He won’t stop living, though, he refuses to disappoint his Rose like that. No, he’ll find his match.

After a few bottles of Scotch.

“Did you love him?” The Doctor asks quietly, weeks later, when they have regained some sense of stability.

If she had been the same person she was when she started traveling with him, she might’ve lied. Been afraid to disturb the peace, the delicate tightrope that she and the Doctor always seem to balance on. But now, Rose is different. She understands relationships, understands love and trust and commitment, a little better. She knows the Doctor would never leave her, never let her leave unless he was absolutely sure it would truly make her happy. They’ve already hashed it all out, amongst tears and rage and late night nibbles, sitting at the foot of the TARDIS’ doors and dangling their feet into the cosmos. After everything they’ve been through, honesty comes easy.

“I could’ve,” she admits. She saves the waxing poetic, the memories of the dark quips and burning hugs and blunt speech, for their next visit with Jack. She’ll be honest with the Doctor, but she won’t set out to hurt him. “He’s a good man- demon, I mean,” she corrects. “Misunderstood and angry at the universe. He deserves a love that didn’t already promise someone else forever.” The Doctor reaches over, twining their fingers together. “And I’d never regret that promise, yeah?”

“Good,” the Doctor whispers, tugging her close. “Cause that’s how long you’re gonna stay with me.”

#crowley x rose #rose x crowley #rose x doctor #dw fic #good omens fic #dw #good omens #rose tyler #crowley #i'd love to finish this someday #bc i love a little bit of a darker ten #and i love the crowley rose dynamic #and the scene with her and god #BUT #clearly that's not happening soon lmao #hope it was fun to read anyways!

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koteosa · 5 years ago

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If you’re still taking fic recs, FtM asra + FtM apprentice getting naughty in the woods would be lovely

This took me awhile to finish but I hope you like it, anon ;) ao3 link

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," promises Asra, sneaking a glance over his shoulder to where his apprentice follows a few steps behind, grasping his hand. Ruby eyes shift from him to the forest around them, rose pink lips scrunched up slightly in a little pout.

They'd been walking for awhile with no clear destination in mind, at least, none that Kamui knew about. This is another surprise, and just like all the others, Asra is jittery with excitement. Knowing him, wherever they're going is bound to be good. Asra knew Kamui better than he knew himself, even if Asra is more inclined to let Kamui figure things out on his own. Some things, though, are just too good to pass up introducing, or rather, reintroducing him to, especially now that his headaches are nearly nonexistent.

They still prefer not to play with fire, but Kamui's sure this will be fine. Asra is careful, beyond careful. Kamui has to trust he knows what he's doing.

Since their lives have settled into whatever counts as peace for them, they'd gone to many places, and Kamui witnessed Asra getting excited about the many things he found and wanted to share with Kamui. Color-changing hot springs, floating islands, or even just a little bug he thought was pretty.

Kamui smiles at the thought. Asra is so cute.

The two are dressed loosely, with nothing to carry but a basket slung over one of Asra's arms. A clear signifier they're going on a picnic; that, or they're going collecting, but Kamui could kind of see between the reeds, and the basket didn't seem empty. He didn't want to spoil the surprise, though, so he doesn't look too closely.

The forest begins to turn less dark and dreary and more colorful as they go on. Glowing, aqua blue mushrooms pop out of the grass, with jellyfish-like ones along the nearby trees in various pastels. The foliage grows thick and nearly blots out the sun, making the bioluminescent flora nearby their primary light source. The grass and leaves seem more blue-tinted than before, and the ground like clay.

In the distance, he spots a blue will-o-wisp hovering near a large pond, before several more pop into view in various shades. They fade and in out of view to seemingly teleport from place to place. As the two magicians step closer to the water, the nearby wisps vanish, almost as if they'd never been. But Kamui can see them reappear along the tree line, like little fairy lights.

Angling his head back down, he peers into the water, as Asra takes his hand back and begins preparing their picnic—as predicted—nearby. The water is strangely dark and deep, like the ocean, making it impossible to see past the surface. If there's anything inside, Kamui can't see it. But what he can see is the way the surface glimmers in the light of glowing mushrooms and wisps.

Easing down onto the blue and violet patterned blanket with a casual ease, Kamui curls his legs, saying, "This place is beautiful. How did you find out about it?"

Turning to where Asra is sitting on his knees nearby, rifling through the basket in search of something in particular, he senses the hesitation that doesn't show in Asra's pleasant smile, or in his loose, relaxed body language. He doesn't say anything, not right away, but Kamui can practically hear the "I can't tell you that" anyway, having been through it so many times before.

Eventually, Asra speaks up, but only after placing a jar of some kind of red-violet jam on the blanket between them. It looks store bought, with a pink cloth tied with red twine on top.

Tapping the top of the jar, Asra meets Kamui's eyes and says, "You'll like this." Mild disappointment passes over Kamui knowing his question had just been dodged, though he should have expected—"This is the place where we first made love."

He nearly chokes on thin air. Lips flapping uselessly, he looks from Asra's smug grin to the jar to the forest around them, wondering—where, exactly? Right here, where they're sitting? Against a tree? Which tree? Or did they do it in the water?

When he turns back to Asra, the magician is grinning wide, chin propped up on a hand as he gazes lovingly at his apprentice. "You look so good in pink," he purrs, and Kamui can feel his face burn hotter.

"You're the worst," Kamui says, in such a state of shock that his words don't quite carry the heat he intends, and Asra just laughs. Pouting, Kamui turns back to the pond, realizing he can't see his reflection—or anything's reflection. If not for the gentle sway of the water, he might think it's just some oddly-colored sheet of ice, instead.

He's thinking about it, now, though. There is very little he knew about their past, beyond some sort of reversal of their dynamic, at least at first; Kamui had been more confident. Better than Asra at a lot of things, like love, which Asra hadn't experienced before meeting Kamui. He hadn't known how to react to how incredibly forward Kamui could be. That's all he'd actually said, and as much as Kamui had wanted to try filling in the blanks himself, he knew it to be dangerous to his health.

Now, though. Now he's immensely curious, and can't stop himself. He wants to think it's the water—it's just such a focal point to the scene, and with Asra's affinity for water, it… just felt like the right place, like it's something Kamui would think to do. Or maybe Asra had asked for it. Had he? Would he have been bold, actions over words, initiating with no warning and acting like he had any idea what he's doing? He must have stumbled somewhere, or everywhere, and Kamui would give anything to see Asra in such a way, at least once.

Hopefully it didn't look like what Kamui remembered as their first time. He felt so awkward, like Asra was some kind of god who found everything he did to be "cute", and not… alluring, sultry, seductive, anything like that. Or maybe it's that, but in reverse? Kamui felt a lot better about that idea.

"Kamui," Asra softly sing-songs, pulling the aforementioned man out of his thoughts. Ruby eyes dart over to him, blinking to clear his unfocused vision. The magician's lips part as a soft, barely audible huff of amusement drifts past, and he scoots closer, drawing the backs of his fingers down Kamui's bare arm where his soft red jacket had slipped.

"I know it's tempting, but try to stay with me," Asra says, leaning slightly forward in order to be peering up at his apprentice. The tilt of his head is so cute, Kamui wants to kiss him.

So he does, pale hand caressing the side of his square jaw, tasting a hint of something spicy on his lips. In return, Asra's wandering hand finds Kamui's sleeve, tugging just enough for him to get the point and ease closer as Asra shifts into a reclining position. He lays propped up on his elbow while Kamui leans over him, legs curled off to one side.

Nuzzling into Asra's neck, Kamui catches a whiff of his scent, sighing softly upon not-so-subtly inhaling it. "You smell really nice," he comments. "What is that…?"

Asra tips his head to one side, giving Kamui more room. The man curls his arms around Asra's back, hands resting on the backs of his shoulders. "You like it?" Asra asks, the smile audible in his voice. Kamui responds with an affirmative hum. "It's something Nadi gave me. I thought I might try it out."

"She's a genius," Kamui purrs, nuzzling in closer while Asra laughs softly. "It smells… spicy. Woodsy. Warm. I don't know."

"And here I thought you were a poet," Asra teases, prompting Kamui to pull back with a small scoff, playfully shoving Asra's shoulder as his grin grows wider, flashing a hint of teeth.

"Aspiring poet, shut up."

With a soft chuckle, Asra reaches up to cup the nape of Kamui's neck, urging him back in for another kiss. Kamui goes willingly, and they get caught up in kissing until Asra pulls back, licking his lips. His hand trails down, finger brushing the underside of Kamui's chin. It sends a light shiver down his spine, making him want to go back to kissing immediately, but Asra has other plans.

Rather than sit up, Asra flops back onto the blanket, pulling the glass jar over and holding it up above his chest. Kamui eases back a bit to give him some room, but doesn't hesitate to start leaning on Asra's bent leg, hands folded atop his knee.

"Do you know what this is?" Asra asks. Kamui squints at the jar, thinking.

"Considering it's you, I'd guess it's not something like strawberry jam."

"You'd guess right," Asra cheerily responds, and Kamui rolls his eyes while letting out a small, breathless chuckle. Tapping the side of the jar with one blue-painted nail, Asra says, "I picked this up when we were in Zadith last month."

"With your parents?" Asra nods. "Is this something you made together?"

"Oh, no. My parents would be very disappointed in me if they knew I had this."

"What is it, a bomb? Are we preparing to commit a war crime?"

Covering his mouth as he laughs, it takes a moment before Asra can respond with, "No, nothing like that. It's just not something you want your parents knowing about."

It immediately clicks in Kamui's mind, then, despite his general lack of knowledge towards what it's like to have parents. "It's an aphrodisiac," he concludes, letting out a soft huff as Asra smirks. "Oh my god, Asra."

Grinning deviously, Asra makes a show out of popping open the jar. Immediately, a sweet, fruity scent escapes into the air. Now that it's open, it looks more like a jelly than a jam.

"It's not very strong," he explains, "Just something to play around with a bit." He grins. "It's also a lubricant."

That reveal gives Kamui a lot of ideas, his mind flooding with imaginary scenarios that have his face turning a deeper shade of pink. As he returns to reality, he comes to a realization that has him suppressing a laugh. "You brought me out to the woods so we could fuck."

"And eat a delicious lunch afterwards," Asra points out, gesturing to the wicker basket nearby, which Kamui had yet to see the contents of. "Or we could just eat the lunch, if you want."

"You know me." Leaning forward, Kamui spreads his hands out across Asra's chest, dipping beneath the fabric of his loose jacket, for which he's wearing nothing else underneath. it's a fairly warm day, and now that Kamui knows what they're out here for, it made even more sense why Asra had chosen such an easy to remove, loose outfit; and why he'd told Kamui to do the same, "because of the weather", sure. The real reason had a lot more to do with how easily Kamui's hands are able to find the soft, silky flesh of Asra's nipples. "I'd rather skip straight to dessert."

With a playful smirk, Asra says, "Well, in that case…" He dips a finger inside the jar, twisting it so it comes out thoroughly coated. The mixture drips like honey once the gelatinous surface is broken. Asra's tongue swipes across the red lines dribbling down his hand before they can reach his wrist, the look in his eyes less seductive and more nervous. "I didn't expect it to be this runny," he says.

"Well, it's like ice cream," Kamui comments, lightly grasping Asra's wrist and pulling his hand closer. He laves his tongue over Asra's hand, cleaning up the drips before taking Asra's finger into his mouth and sucking. Watching Asra's reaction through lidded eyes reveals exactly the kind of awed, bashful look he was hoping for.

He almost forgets to pay attention to the sweet taste caressing his tongue, like some kind of moist, cherry candy. It's almost too sweet, nearly coaxing a shiver out of him from the overstimulation to the inside of his mouth alone.

"How is it?" Asra asks, despite having already tasted some of it himself. A vivid dusting of red coats his cheeks, attention entirely fixated on Kamui as he licks his lips, considering the taste. It's during those thoughts that he starts to feel an odd sort of tingle, a shiver passing over his body before it's all gone, replaced with a radiating heat. His skin feels more sensitive everywhere its making contact with Asra's skin, and there's a few parts of his body he's a lot more aware of.

"Sweet," Kamui responds, his voice coming out low and breathy. "How much are we supposed to eat?"

"I don't think it matters," Asra thoughtfully responds. His face turns even redder, and he averts his eyes before adding, "The merchant suggested eating it off of each other."

Eyes wide, Kamui says, "I have trouble imagining you handing over coin for this in person."

"It was only nerve wracking when they started talking to me."

Kamui chuckles lowly. "Mmm, next time, take me with you. I'll do all the talking, you know I don't care."

"I wanted to surprise you," Asra says, toying with his bangs using his cleaner hand, which just prompts Kamui to pull it away and begin peppering kisses from his palm up to the tip of one finger.

Once that's done, Kamui tips the container closer to him and dips a finger inside. He presses the digit against Asra's lips, receiving an amused grin in response. There's a hint of something devious and almost challenging in Asra's eyes as he takes it inside his mouth. Kamui strokes his tongue, specifically targeting the area he knew would taste the sweetest. The way Asra's brows tilt as a shiver runs down his spine is exciting.

With one hand on the blanket, Asra pushes himself up, setting the jar aside before lightly grasping onto Kamui's wrist, keeping his hand in place. A moan escapes Asra's throat as he lavishes his tongue over Kamui's skin, escalating from suggestive to lewd remarkably fast. A string of pink-tinted saliva trails between them as Kamui pulls his hand back.

"Did you do that on purpose?" he asks, voice low. The look Asra gives him is dazed, like he hadn't quite heard what Kamui said, which is answer enough.

Licking his lips, Asra shivers, the blush on his cheeks rapidly spreading down his chest. "Oh, that's… immediate," he breathes, coaxing a small laugh out of Kamui. Violet eyes flicker down Kamui's torso, where the folds of his shirt sit just above the braided belt of his pants, revealing a portion of a pale, hairless chest and ribs. A bit of a lopsided, lazy version of Asra's typical grin plays across his lips as he meets Kamui's gaze, saying, "Aren't you a little too warm in that?"

Sliding his hands down the bare expanse of Asra's chest makes the magician's breaths stutter, lust in his gaze as he watches Kamui's every movement. He tilts his head to the side, soft white curls tickling his cheek. "You're right," he says, "Why don't you help me out of it…?"

"Well, if you insist…" Sitting up further with Kamui shifting to straddle his thighs, Asra makes swift work of his top. The silk slides smoothly off his shoulders, coaxing a slight shiver out of him alongside a quiet, stuttered breath. Everything feels heightened, every slip of clothing past his skin like the delicate touch of a lover. He's not so sure it was appropriate to call the aphrodisiac "not very strong".

Lips caress his waist, trailing down. He sits up higher, hands on Asra's sun kissed shoulders. His skin is warm, and Kamui wants to touch more of it, to hold him close and feel their skin connect. Pale hands slide down the back of Asra's shoulders as he curls over the top of him, barely noticing it when Asra starts removing his belt with his teeth. Kamui can't help but laugh at his eagerness; he can't even be bothered to use his hands, getting the front of Kamui's pants open without them. An art Kamui is still in the process of mastering.

With one hand dipping down the back of Kamui's waistband, the other reaches for the jar nearby. He gets Kamui's pants and smallclothes halfway down his thighs before dipping two fingers inside the jam and licking it off. He kisses the front of Kamui's pelvis, right in the center of a patch of wiry white hairs, before dipping down and giving a long, firm lap of the flat of his tongue up Kamui's center. The jam he'd kept stuck on his tongue goes with it, smeared thoroughly between his folds as Kamui shivers and starts to squirm.

"Oh, that's—" Cold, he wants to say, but it quickly heats up until all he notices is how sticky it is. As Asra draws his tongue back over him, the jam starts to cling just enough to provide a glorious sense of friction. The jelly he'd already consumed has him sensitive enough already. "—Good," he finishes, quivering as Asra continues to lap at his core, cleaning him, hands lightly gripping his hips. He has to resist the urge to grind his hips forward; the desire is immense, despite how little they've done so far.

Asra grins up at him, that smug, self-satisfied little smirk that always gets him riled up in these situations. Maybe it's on purpose, but Kamui doesn't care; he grips the back of Asra's hair, holding him in place as he rubs himself against Asra's tongue. It dips firmly against his clit and he moans at the surge of pleasure it provides.

"O-Oh, Asra…" His breaths quicken as he shifts his hips, though Asra quickly gets the point and circles his tongue around him. It's far too good far too quickly, making him feel like he's on the verge of cumming already. Sparks travel down his thighs and his legs lock in place as he ruts against Asra's tongue, lashes fluttering with every burst of pleasure. Dizziness clouds his mind and he can't pay attention to anything but how good it feels. The sensation builds rapidly, growing too powerful and then he's spilling over, moaning as he clings to Asra's hair and shoulders. His body twitches and Asra doesn't stop for even a second, his hands squeezing the soft flesh of Kamui's backside.

As the feeling subsides and his body begins to relax, he finds himself tipping forward; Asra acts quickly, catching them both on one hand before carefully maneuvering them so Kamui lays flat against the blanket. Asra tugs Kamui's clothes all the way off before kneeling between his legs.

With his head tipped back and eyes closed, he can't be certain what's going on anywhere Asra isn't touching him, but when he opens his eyes, their faces are inches apart. He catches his own scent on Asra's breath, his lips glistening but otherwise perfectly clean. It really shouldn't be as arousing as it is, but when Asra kisses him and their tongues glide together and he can taste himself, a spark shoots down his body. He pulls Asra closer.

Their lips part for just a moment, heat in Asra's gaze as he shifts with a mumbled, "Hold on," balancing against Kamui's shoulder as he pulls his pants down around his thighs—nothing underneath, predictable. Kamui bends a leg, hooking his toe into the waistband and awkwardly yanking it farther down Asra's leg. The magician laughs, reaching down to continue what Kamui started, just to have to battle with Kamui's hands trying to undress him even faster. "Kamui—Slow down," he laughs.

"Nuh uh," Kamui says, shaking his head and chuckling playfully. "You don't get to wear clothes. Be naked with me." Once the pants are off, Kamui starts on the jacket, fastened with just two buttons low around Asra's waist. To say that he tears it off is too violent, but it's something to that affect regardless.

The moment they're both nude is when Kamui wraps his limbs around Asra to pull him as close as humanly possible. If only it were possible to go even farther. He only truly feels correct when Asra's skin is clinging to his like this, sticky with the beginnings of sweat. His heart pounds. Lips caress his neck before finding their way up to his mouth; Kamui nuzzles his nose into Asra's affectionately before they're kissing again, so busy smiling that it makes their movements clumsy, at first.

Then Asra's hands trail down to Kamui's hips, and he shifts his lower body. He head turns, and he spots the jar nearby, reaching for it and dribbling a generous amount onto one hand. That same hand disappears between his thighs, though Kamui can't quite see anything from his position.

Positioning himself in just the right way, Asra grinds against Kamui, the sticky warmth spreading over him. Surprised, Kamui gasps, hearing Asra groan by his ear at nearly the same time. Without even thinking about it, Kamui spreads his legs, clinging to Asra's shoulders as he moves again, expertly gliding their clits together in just the right way to send tingles down his thighs. Though his body still feels a bit tired after the first orgasm, he doesn't want this to stop or slow down for even a second.

Asra's hands travel. Up Kamui's back, around his waist, back down to his hips, across his thighs, over his chest, everywhere, all the while moving his hips in search of that spark, that rush of pleasure that makes his toes curl. It's clear he wasn't expecting how strong it would feel right away, ducking his head into the dip of Kamui's neck and shoulder, the sound of his shallow breaths mingling with Kamui's.

The pace grows frenzied quickly, Asra's arms wrapping around Kamui's neck and shoulders. The sounds tumble out of him loud and a bit higher pitched than Kamui's used to hearing; little whimpers and gasping moans, and Kamui can feel the high he's chasing as if they were one and the same. His own voice is in there somewhere, though he's focused entirely on Asra's melodic and gentle tones instead.

The sound of him enjoying himself only makes everything feel so much better, and when something that sounds an awful lot like "Kamui" is moaned directly into a pale ear, the pressure around Kamui's clit builds so high he nearly cums right away. Though everything Asra does is perfect, he can't stop himself from moving back against him, increasing that pressure as he suddenly finds himself unable to shut up.

"Asra," he groans, his hand tightening against the skin of Asra's back, fingers curling around fluffy strands of hair. "Asra, Asra—Oh—I love you, I love—Ohhh—" A flash of pleasure rolls over him and he wraps his legs around Asra's back, wanting, needing him to be closer. It's so much, his mind starts to short out, everything feels hot, but it isn't enough. "—Fuck, god, harder—Please—"

Raising up, Asra crashes their lips together as his hands go immediately down to Kamui's hips, gripping tight enough for his thumbs to bruise into Kamui's soft, pale skin. He uses his grip to hold Kamui in place, grinding faster and harder, rubbing all the right spots like he's attuned to it. Their kissing barely lasts all that long before they're merely leaning into each other, hot breaths intermingling.

Asra bites his lip as he crests suddenly, and Kamui reaches to angle him properly to see every inch of his face. His brows upturned, lashes fluttering, golden skin flushed a beautiful shade of red. The noise he makes starts soft, barely a breath before growing deeper and more intense. It's all exactly what Kamui needs to join him, the pleasure so strong he has trouble focusing on anything else, except; the pulsing feeling keeps going, and Asra doesn't stop moving, and his body continues twitching for a lot longer than he's used to.

"Asra—I c-can't—I can't stop—"

A warm mouth presses into his as a tongue invades his mouth, reducing him to pathetic whimpers. Even after his body manages to calm itself, Asra's hips continue to move, only far slower, lazy circles that keep him feeling something. The heat remains in his lower half for a long while afterwards and he's surprised he doesn't feel the slightest bit sore after all this, but then again, they hadn't exactly done this unassisted.

Their cheeks brush as Asra's head all-but flops onto his shoulder. They're both still focused on catching their breath, enjoying the feeling of being held in each other's arms despite the heat. Kamui isn't bothered—if they could melt into each other, that would be really ideal, in his opinion.

A satisfied sigh parts Kamui's lips. "Asra," he starts, running his fingers through the aforementioned magician's hair. His hips are still moving, lazily but enough that Kamui can feel the slight pressure it maintains around his clit. "What are you doing…? Do you want to go again?"

A kiss is pressed to his cheek, and Asra sighs, his breaths warm on Kamui's skin. "It still feels really good," he says, low, breathless, and Kamui finds himself biting his lip. "I don't want to stop."

"Then let me touch you," Kamui says, already beginning to shift, urging Asra up and onto his back against the blanket, swapping their positions. He curls alongside Asra's body, propped up on his hands to get a really good look along Asra's body; slim, but toned, he's always been thicker than Kamui in all the right ways, making him feel safe and protected in his arms. Though redundant to even say, he's beautiful, and Kamui never tires of looking at him.

He just barely notices the jar nearby, tipped over onto its side, though luckily nothing seems to have spilled. Licking his lips, he lifts it up and holds it suggestively against his chin as he looks down over Asra's body, considering. One of Asra's hands raises up over his brow, his head turning towards the blanket, violet eyes peering up at him in a daze. He's red from the tips of his ears down the front of his torso. Glistening with sweat in the warm summer sun, even with all the shade. His eyes droop lazily and his grin is just as lethargic, though to Kamui, everything about him is irresistible.

"Oh, are you gonna make me your appetizer?" Asra purrs, eyes flickering between the jar and Kamui. With a flirtatious smirk, Kamui tilts the jar out over Asra's body, drizzling it across his chest and the hard lines of his abs like he might a dessert. The red jelly drips between his pectorals and Kamui dives in to lap it up, feeling Asra shudder beneath him.

"I'd rather make you my dessert," Kamui purrs, voice so low it nearly comes out as a growl. The sound reverberates in Asra's ear and he shivers, body trembling with desire. He looks so vulnerable; quivering, as Kamui leans back in to draw his tongue up a line of red, intentionally bringing it over a nipple in the process. He can feel it respond to his touch, and goes back over it several more times as it grows harder, only stopping once he's satisfied with how perky it gets.

Though taking his sweet time lavishing Asra's upper body with attention, it doesn't escape Kamui's notice the way his lower half squirms, searching for attention; a thigh to rub up against, though Kamui's leg isn't quite positioned to make that easy for him. A pale hand dips down, feeling the dampness coating Asra's slit, slightly sticky; pink clings to Kamui's fingers and he physically cannot stop himself from sticking them in his mouth. It tastes sweet, like the jam, but also overwhelmingly like Asra, and he moans around his fingers.

The sound is mirrored in his lover's voice, watching him closely, eyes blown black. Though he lays there allowing Kamui to have his way with him, there's a certain impatience radiating off of him. One Kamui loves to ignore, most of the time, just to tease him. This time, however, he feels just as impatient, and slides his hand back down Asra's pelvis, teasing him along his folds before parting them to slip his fingers in between. Asra's breaths quicken, and the second Kamui so much as grazes his clit, he pushes his hips forward, overeager. And, yet again—Kamui forgets the art of shutting his mouth.

"You're so cute," he purrs. "I want to fuck you—" Asra moans, and Kamui can feel the way Asra throbs in anticipation as he angles a finger closer to his hole, stroking the outside of it. "—Back at the shop, will you let me?"

"Yes, fuck—"

"I want you on your hands and knees, presenting yourself to me." Asra whimpers, pushing his hips forward as Kamui repositions his hand, thumb focused on Asra's clit while he reaches down to tease his entrance. The mere thought of it makes Kamui throb, and he's not even the one being touched. He just can't resist the way Asra looks in such a compromising position, the way he trembles and moans as Kamui pumps his fingers in and out of him, soaking wet and desperate for more. He's perfect, absolutely perfect. "Would you prefer my fingers, or…?"

"You," Asra responds immediately, not even giving Kamui the chance to continue. "You, you, I want you—" His hand cards into his own hair, the other blindly reaching for Kamui, though he can't tell what Asra wants, whether it's for them to be closer, or just to be touching Kamui at all. It settles along his bicep, stubby nails pressing into his flesh. A finger presses inside of him and a full body shiver passes over him, coaxing out a heady moan. "Ohhhh—Only you," he groans, and Kamui's finger dips deeper, slick with the sticky pink fluid. "Just—Just you—"

Leaning forward, Kamui curls one leg around Asra's as he tenderly kisses his cheek. Asra's words have warmth spreading through him and he wants nothing more than to hand Asra the world, to give him everything and then some. For now, though, he can give him his fingers, and that's enough to have him singing his praises.

Kamui holds him, kissing along his body as he pumps into him with his fingers, just long enough to rub along the spot inside of him that has him seeing stars. Dizzy and breathless, Asra alternates between sitting still and grinding his hips, a leg bent to make it easier to push himself closer, like he can't quite decide what feels best, or maybe he just can't think clearly anymore. A warm tongue glides up his throat before Kamui bites down, and the response is instantaneous; hips thrust up towards him, both of Asra's hands reaching for him to drag him closer.

Turning his body to straddle one of Asra's legs, Kamui kisses along his collar, rubbing himself along a strong thigh; his skin is so smooth and soft and the feeling startles him with how powerful it is, still not used to the effects of the magic. He can tell it would take far too long to build up to where Asra's currently soaring, so he puts most of his efforts into guiding him higher; though the feeling of Asra's juices dripping onto his hand as he fucks in and out of him is exciting in and of itself. The lust-fueled haze in his eyes, his shallow breaths, the litany of Kamui's name and I love you's that pass his lips like a prayer.

Kamui wraps an arm around him, pulling him up off the blanket and into a pale chest. Warm, thick hands cling to him, constantly moving like he isn't quite sure where he wants to touch, aside from everywhere. They finally settle around Kamui's lower back, his leg curling, and he pulls Kamui's hips closer, grinding his wetness across a warm thigh and making him tremble with the sudden flash of pleasure that rolls over his body. His head falls into the dip of Asra's shoulder.

"Oh, I love you…" Kamui sighs, whimpering pathetically as Asra's hands grip his hips, controlling their movements. It encourages him to follow along, tightening his legs around Asra's to increase the pressure that builds slowly around his clit. Though he tries to focus on Asra, it's so hard to concentrate when Asra's returning the favor like that. His hips move clumsily and he buries his face into the crook of Asra's neck, inhaling his scent and shuddering.

Asra's hands move, one threading into Kamui's hair while the other wraps around his back, holding him; his breaths quicken and so do the motion of his hips, his inner walls pulsing around Kamui's finger. Dragging a fingertip firmly along the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him, Kamui pulls back to watch his face as he cums, and it doesn't take much longer for him to get there.

"You're so beautiful," Kamui purrs, quickening the pace of his hips; Asra turns impossibly redder, turning to hide his face in the blanket as his thighs twitch and he pushes himself up towards Kamui's fingers in short, sharp little thrusts. "Absolutely perfect." Kamui kisses along his cheek. "I adore you…" He keeps rubbing him, prolonging his orgasm for as long as possible. Ruby eyes trail downwards, watching his thighs convulse, seeing the pale fingers dipping down inside of him.

"Kamui…" Asra brokenly moans, receiving a response in the form of a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Their eyes meet for a moment and Kamui sees the dizzy look in his eyes before their lips connect, and he feels as though he could stay here forever, exactly like this.

As Asra's body stills, Kamui's hand lingers for just a moment longer before pulling back. Their lips part long enough for Kamui to suck the fluid from his fingers, maintaining full eye contact. Asra looks barely cognizant, though he still gives his full attention, or whatever's left of it, to watching him. If only he'd been a little more aware, Kamui might have put his fingers in Asra's mouth, instead.

Or maybe not. He, admittedly, liked the taste more than most people.

Moving away from Asra's thigh, Kamui drapes himself over the top of Asra's torso, his legs curled off to one side. He uses one hand to brush Asra's bangs out of his eyes. A few strands stick to his skin where sweat has dripped into his hair; though they hadn't really done anything terribly vigorous, it was still pretty warm out, and that warmth turned blazing hot with the help of all their… activities. And the aphrodisiac, of course.

Languidly kissing along his neck and the side of his face, Kamui snuggles in closer, a hand laid out over his rapidly beating heart, slowly calming as they lie in silence. Asra's eyes droop, like he's having trouble keeping them open at all.

"Tired?" Kamui asks, his voice low and intimate. He receives an affirmative hum in response. "Is twice too much for you?"

"You are," Asra says, peering up at Kamui from beneath his lashes. He looks so sultry, Kamui can't help but melt at the sight of him. "You're incredible…"

"Oh, I know." His self-assured response has Asra chuckling, the smile lingering on his face afterwards; Kamui grins adoringly down at him. "You are, too," he adds, reaching up to lightly run a finger over the dimple that forms near the corner of Asra's lips. "You really don't know what you do to me. I love you, Asra."

Smiling, Asra draws Kamui into a kiss, and when they part, Kamui lays his head over his heart, listening to its steady rhythm. Everything feels peaceful, and perfect; until he hears Asra's stomach rumbling, and he pulls himself up with a laugh. Asra looks embarrassed, as Kamui balances his chin on the backs of his hands.

"Hungry?" he asks, grinning down at Asra's cute little blush. "Asra, darling, did you eat before we came out here?"

Violet eyes drift off somewhere to the left, gaze becoming unfocused slightly. "I… don't remember," Asra admits.

"Ohhhh, look who's skipping meals now." Asra scoffs, though it's more humored than annoyed.

"Just one, Kamui. Not several every day," he retorts, leaning up to kiss the tip of Kamui's nose when he starts to pout. "I was too busy putting all this together, I must have forgot." Turning towards the basket, Kamui follows his gaze, tilting his head curiously. He'd forgotten entirely that they were on a picnic. His legs bend, ankles crossed.

"Let's take a break and eat some of this," he suggests, "And then afterwards, I want to eat you out."

Startled, Asra nearly chokes on thin air. He recovers quickly, though it doesn't stop Kamui from laughing at his expense. Red dusts over Asra's cheeks as they move to sit up, with Kamui positioning himself firmly in his partner's lap. Strong arms wrap around Kamui's torso like they belong there, while soft lips caress his neck.

"How long do you want to stay out here?" Asra asks, his chin propped up on Kamui's shoulder. He hums in thought.

"Until I'm bored," he says. "So, you might have to be the one to decide, because I never tire of your body."

"So, we're living in the woods from now on, then." Kamui laughs.

#the arcana #asra x mc #asra alnazar #fanfic #fic #asra x apprentice #asra x oc #the apprentice #male apprentice #oc apprentice #asra the magician #lemon #writing #ocs #oc:kamui #m/nb #Rated E #oc/canon #the arcana writing

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kennahbunny · 5 years ago

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Harry Potter Preferences Pt 2: Relationship Development

Disclaimer!: If you haven’t read my other HP Preference “How you guys meet” then this won’t make much sense. I also plan on making a single imagine for each of the boys for their storyline, so please be patient. I have to brainstorm then write drafts for each story then finalize, then edit, then post. So it’ll take a while to say the least. I also have so many ideas about a crossover with different shows! AHH! I’m so excited! Also, I’m posting these stories on Wattpad and Tumblr.

Part 1 Masterlist

Harry: After you helped him with his potions homework that one night. He noticed you more every day, he kept an eye out for you hoping to see you say thank you and hopefully make it a regular thing. When he did see you, it was in a class where he couldn’t just get up and talk to you and when class was over you seemed to disappear when class was dismissed. He was determined to talk to you, and when you weren’t in class when he saw you, you were surrounded by your girlfriends, laughing, gossiping. A week went by when he finally saw you alone, he took his chance to ask you for a study date. Harry wanted to know, you were so kind to him, you didn’t seem to care about him being the chosen one. He felt like he could talk to you, open up and talk about his past without somebody asking about ‘you know who’.

Months pass and now you’re close friends and your feelings for each other grew even more but neither one of you wanted to ruin the amazing friendship that you had. Every Quidditch match you went to for him, you weren’t as close with him as the golden trio they had their special bond. What you guys had was special, he kept telling Ron how he felt about you and how afraid he is to ask you out just cause of the fact that you might say no and that you don’t feel the same. Boys, right? So a week passed of you two being awkward, both contemplating to admitting your feelings and eventually, it gets to the point where you finally build up the courage to ask him.

You notice Harry in the courtyard with Hermione and Ron, you run up to them thinking, 'Oh what the hell.’ “Harry!” They all turn their heads when they recognize your voice, they say their hellos but your mind was on one thing. “Hey, Harry can I talk to you for a sec?” Hermione and Ron share a knowing look, Harry nods and says sure. I pull him to the side,

“So what is it that you needed to pull me aside to say?” You gave him a nervous smile, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade?”

“Like all together? Sure.”

“No, like just us on a date?” He smiled, “I thought you didn’t like me like that. To be honest, (Y/n) I’ve fancied you awhile and was too afraid to ask you and I’m so glad you did.” You were so relieved you kissed him on the cheek, then blushed once you realized what you did. “Oh, sorry.” He didn’t say anything, he just simply returned the kiss and said he’d see you this weekend.

Ron: Days after the party Ron couldn’t shut up about you, it was starting to get on Harry’s nerves and Hermione’s not because she was jealous or anything she thinks you would be good for Ron, it’s just Ron couldn’t go one conversation without mentioning your name. For example,

“Ron, did you get that Transfiguration homework done?” Hermione asked.

“No, but I bet (Y/n) probably did, she’s so talented and smart. Did you see her today? She’s so pretty an-,”

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped her fingers in his to snap him out of his trance, “I get it, you fancy (Y/n) but that’s not what I asked.” she huffed, “Just man up and go ask her out.” Harry nodded, “Yeah mate, it’s getting old at this point.” He patted Ron’s shoulder and nodded in (Y/n)’s direction. Ron noticed and instantly stiffened up, his heart raced every time he saw you. So that’s what he did, well that’s what he attempted to do…

It ended up being a complete disaster… When he approached you at the entrance of the great hall, he froze but it was too late you already saw him and waved, excited to see him and get a chance to talk to him again. “Hey! I’ve been meaning to chat with you again,” You meet him halfway, you can’t help but smile every time you see him. There was just something about him that made you happy, meanwhile, in Ron’s brain, it looked like that one scene in Spongebob where his brain was on fire and there was mini Spongebob’s running around screaming. Yeah, that was what it looked like. Ron blackout, but from (Y/n)’s p.o.v his words came out fast and all jumbled.

“Uhhh… erm, Hiwouldyouli-want-tomaybegoonadatewithme?” He was visibly nervous, he swaying side to side, and you could guess his hands were clammy. You felt bad for the guy, you fancy him too.

“I’m sorry?” You gave a sympathetic look towards him, trying your best to understand what he just said. You think you heard the word date? He took a deep breath and tried saying it again,

“Would you like to go on a date with me? Please?” Ron wanted to punch himself for being such a git, he was thinking this is going very bad and he was so lost in his thoughts that he barely heard (Y/n) says yes.

“What?” He looked confused, “Did you say yes?” You giggled at his nervousness, “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.” He has a goofy smile on his face, “Great, so this weekend?” You nod eagerly.

Draco: The past few weeks, you dreaded going to potions class. Every day it spiked up your anxiety levels to the max, you try to stay as calm as possible but your thoughts keep running in circles about how good Draco smells and other things, then you tell yourself to snap out of it and by the time you do you’ve missed a section of very important notes or you knicked yourself with the knife when you were supposed to be cutting some ingredient. Damn. Before you swapped partners you were the 3rd best in class, right behind Draco who was behind Hermione. 'Maybe Snape did have the right idea putting use together, he probably thought we’d make a good pair considering how smart we both are. He’s probably disappointed with how many mistakes I’ve made since working with Draco, and Draco must be annoyed with my clumsiness. Why do I have to have a crush on such a git?! Merlin, I need to get a grip.’

When I’m not messing up it seems like Draco enjoys my company? Or isn’t completely annoyed by it anyway. We get along well enough,

“Hey, erm, do you have any plans later tonight?” I turn my head to look at Draco. 'Did I just hear that right? Did Draco Malfoy just ask me out?’ I turn my head to see Snape going over our homework from last week,

“Um, I just have some homework from other classes to go over but other than that I’m free. Why you ask?” I whisper back unsure of what his intentions were? These past weeks, Hermione has told me Draco hasn’t been harassing her as much which I find strange but I’m glad about that. “No reason, well it’s just that you could use some extra studying and I thought you’d enjoy my company.” 'Ugh, why do I like this guy?’ “Uh, thanks? We could study together after dinner, that’ll give us a couple of hours before curfew. Sound good?” He nods then goes on with class like that conversation never happened. 'What the hell just happened?’

Fred: Ever since that prank you pulled on that Ravenclaw word spread and still no one knew who pulled it off. Of course, there was an announcement saying that the staff knows who done it so they might as well come forward and accept their punishment but weeks went by and nothing happened, no surprise there. The only people who knew were Fred, George, and your two dormmates. Fred was so proud of you, well everyone was but Fred especially. After that prank you caught yourself spending more time with the Weasley twins and you started to develop a crush on Fred. There was something about his personality, he was so easy to talk to aswell.

Free period, I finally get a chance to breathe. “(Y/n)!” Noo~ I turn around to figure out if it was George or Fred calling my name so I know who to knee in the balls, they know not to bother with my “study” time. I just want to go to my common room and take a nap, that’s it. The time I waste talking to whoever, there goes how many minutes of sleep I lost.

Oh, it’s Fred. “Oh, hey Fred.” I move to the side of the hallway so I don’t get crushed by the stampede of students. Damn, he’s cute. “Hey, (Y/n) I was wondering if you wanted to join me and a few of my other friends this weekend at Hogsmeade?”

“Sure, I’d like that. May I ask why the sudden interest in me?”

“Well, if you must I fancy you” You’re taken back “Really? You fancy me?,” You pointed to yourself, “Not Angelica? Because I heard she fancies you, also I’m so boring. I don’t understand why you would fancy someone like m-”

“(Y/n)! I fancy you alright and there are reasons I fancy you. The more time I spend with you the more I fall for you. I find it adorable that you take naps after classes and one more thing you’re not boring! You’re hilarious, you’re so carefree and that prank idea you had was genius! So please stop being so down on yourself and please come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend” The entire time he was caressing your face, it was sort of difficult to focus on his words when you were so lost in his eyes.

You can’t stop smiling, so you just nod a yes, “Great, now will you let me join you for a nap. I could use one right about now.” You looked confused, “Wait, I thought you didn’t have a free period today?” You raise your eyebrow in confusion.

“You’re right I don’t but it’ll probably be boring and I would most likely fall asleep, so why sleep there at an uncomfortable desk when I could be cuddling you?” You laugh as he sends you a wink, “Who said anything about cuddling?” “I just did.” You laugh some more, “Now cmon slowpoke time’s a-wasting.”

George: The Yule ball was still a while away so you were glad George asked you when he did. On our date, we found out a lot about each other and we have a lot in common. And you became a little bit less mysterious to him and his feelings grew more for you. You had no idea what he had planned for the date so when he told you to meet him at the Astormany Tower at 11:00 pm you were a bit anxious, to say the least.

You try you’re best to walk quietly so you won’t draw any attention from a prefect or worse Flich or Mrs. Norris. It was freezing out so it was really difficult to look cute while not freezing to death. So just opted for a hoodie and some skinny jeans, you tried your best with your makeup skills, you decided to keep it natural and you left your hair down. You kept fidgeting with your hair and hoodie strings as you make your way up the tower’s stairs. At the top of the stairs, you see his read hair almost immediately, you also notice a blanket spread out on the ground with a woven basket sitting next to him.

He still hadn’t noticed you, and an evil idea popped into your head. You closer you snuck towards the less control you had of keeping a straight face, you couldn’t help a huge grin. You make a growling noise as you grab his shoulders quicky,

“Merlin!” George jumps up from his spot, “he turns around quickly to see me laughing. He can’t help but laugh as well, "Well hello to you too,” You calm down from your laughing fit and finally admire the scene George laid out in front of you. It looked absolutely beautiful out tonight, the stars were out and the moon was bright enough to light up the tower. You were at a loss for words, that was until George offered you a seat which you gladly accepted. The rest of the night was filled with laughter, endless talking and food lots of food. That date was only the beginning of something great.

Neville: Second year, you became friends, you always stood up for him against Malfoy or any other person that gave him a hard time. Third-year, he started to develop a crush now that both of you were changing, growing into your bodies. There was something about you that changed that only he truly noticed, you were more confident in yourself. You were before last year but you’re even more so now and it made him care about you, even more. Now it’s year four, a full two years later and talk about the Yule Ball has come into full effect. The talk about the ball is stressful but so is this essay for Muggle Studies.

You help him with his self-esteem problems, you’re his outlet when it comes to his feelings about his parents and his grandmother. Neville tells you things that he just can’t with his grandmother, every day you two grow closer but you’re too scared to admit the way you feel to him because you think he just sees you as a friend, nothing more than that. You like the way things are and you don’t want to risk anything by saying something you might regret.

“Hey, Neville,” You guys were sprawled out on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room You guys tend to take up the whole couch which annoys some people, you were laying on your back while Neville was sitting properly on the couch as you were using him as a footrest. You tap him with your foot until he lifts his head from his Herbology book he was lost in.

“Hmm, yeah?” He glances at you then goes back to his book, “Ugh, Neville~~~ I need your help with my essay. Can you please reread it, I feel like I can do better with it.” He closes his book, to give you his full attention, “Alright, hand it over.” You hand him your paper, he takes a few minutes going over your paper and you take this moment to gaze at him. You think about how attractive he’s become since you first met him, he’s truly becoming a man and damn do you wish he will take you to the Yule ball.

“(y/n), did you hear me?” You snap out of your thought and come back to Earth, “Huh, sorry I was spacing out.” He laughs, “Well yeah that’s because you’ve been up all night and getting up early in the mornings to finish this essay.” He hands back your essay and starts to push your legs off his lap. You sit up, eager to what he has to say, “Well how is it? Does it more detail? Does it sound good enough, do I need to edit it anymore-” “Alright, I’m going to stop you there.” He turns to face towards me, grabs my hands and pulls me in closer. “It’s perfect. Now go to bed.”

Cedric: Every week you and Cedric would meet at a tree near the Black Lake and you’d swap books. You’d give him a muggle book and he’d give you one that he’d think you’ll love, and every week you’d talk for hours about how much would love or hate that book. He found your passion for books to be adorable, he found it so cute that you’d rant about how much you’d dislike a certain character or how a different character deserves to be treated better and that they’re misunderstood.

You were ranting on and on about how Luce from Lauren Kate’s “Fallen” doesn’t deserve Daniel because she treats him horribly for some reason?. He stopped listening after a while because he was too distracted by the way the sun hits the back of your hair. It sort of had a halo effect and he thought you looked absolutely stunning, he always thought you looked amazing even if you didn’t. He is so captivated by your beauty that his silence didn’t go unnoticed by you, you thought you were boring him so you stopped taking about starting blushing.

“Sorry, am I boring?"Cedric being the gentleman he says, "Oh no of course not, I just love how passionate you are about these things. It’s one of the reasons I fancy you.” He gave you one of his signature smiles. You stared at him dumbfounded, “Sorry what? Did you just say you fancy me?” You really couldn’t believe your ears. He sat up from his laying position to look at you properly, (Y/n) would you like to go on a date with me?“ Cedric hoped deeply that you would say yes, with a hopeful look on his face your mind was racing with questions. "Well? What do you say?”

“Uh, yes, of course, I’ll go on a date with you.” You were so happy you didn’t care what was the reason he’d fancied you but your mind did quickly fill with insecurities. “Ced?” He smiled, he loved the fact that you already have a nickname for me. “Yes?” “Why do you want to go on a date with me? I swore you like Cho?” He gave you a confused look, “Cho? I don’t fancy her at all, she’s pretty and all but you’re who I’m interested in. I feel like I already know you, you are so down to earth and I want to get to know you more. I need to get to know you more or I feel like I might explode, there’s something so captivating about you and I can’t put my finger on it.”

You were at a loss for words, and before you knew what you were doing you hugged him and he returned the favor within seconds. “I never have had someone say something so sweet about me like that, and that speech how can I say no?”

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