#(disregard the fact that he's in his school uniform there)

[aibyoutachi]

its still freaking pocky day here

[genshinluvr]

Suitors

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Many people in Teyvat knows about your relationship with twenty-five men. Though, they disregard it and continue to try to set you up with someone they know. What happens when one of your "suitors" ends up being wanted by the Fatui?

Note: I guess this counts as a filler-ish story, not entirely sure 🤔 For those who are wondering about the new smut series poll and when it'll close, I will close it when the fic is about to be written and it's planned out. So far, the first chapter isn't planned out but I do have the top 10 so far with the most votes. I've been busy with submitting assignments for my final week of winter classes, so this fic may not have turned out how I wanted it to. 🥲 Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would the reader drinking three glasses of champagne count as a warning?

Word Count: 9.1k

It’s a known fact that you’re dating these handsome twenty-five men of all forms of life, from humans to archons to Onis to half-animal beings, etc. You’re never alone when you’re in Teyvat. When shopping for ingredients, you’re accompanied by Thoma and sometimes another man in your relationship circle. Oftentimes, when you go to the Akademiya, Al Haitham, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Cyno are the ones walking you to school. Everyone at the Akademiya knows you’re close with the Acting Grand Sage. You like to tease Al Haitham for his title and call him by it, knowing it’ll annoy him a tiny bit when you call him by that title.

But just because you’re dating these twenty-five handsome men does not mean your relationship with these men is going to last long, according to the people that have approached you (and disregarded the men’s presence) to ask you to do a favor for them. When they ask you for a favor, you assume it’s to assist them with something! Like homework, if you’re at the Akademiya. But it’s something else you never think about.

The elderly man holds your hands and gives you a sweet smile. “You’re young, intelligent, and very social! Are you single by any chance?” He asks.

You smile at the man. “Thank you! And to answer your question, I—” 

The man cuts you off.

“Wonderful! I have a grandson who is around your age! I think you two will make a fine couple!” He says, giving your cheek a squeeze. 

Childe lets out a fake laugh, his eyes twitching while holding back from smacking the old man’s hand off your cheek. Childe turns to look at the other men, his lips pressed into a thin line, his face turning red from holding his breath. The other men were giving the elderly man a strained polite smile.

Childe grabs your bicep and pulls you to his side. “I’m sure your grandson will find someone amazing! Unfortunately, that amazing person for your grandson will not be our dear lover,” Childe says, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

Gorou nods. “Childe is right! We’re sure your grandson will find someone almost as amazing as [Y/N], but [Y/N] is not single!” Gorou says, looping his arm around yours protectively.

The old man looks at Gorou and Childe, surprised by their comment. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Childe and Gorou whisk you away with the other men close behind. It was supposed to be a lovely day in Sumeru with your boyfriends. You all had finished lunch an hour before and were about to go cloud-watching. But this old man approaches you and your boyfriends, starting a conversation with you. 

The conversation started with him asking you about what it’s like to be in the Akademiya because you were in your Akademiya uniform! He then started talking about his grandson, telling you how the man is in his mid to late twenties and yet still doesn’t have a significant other! You joked and said maybe the grandson will find someone as magnificent as you one day, and now here you are. 

Heizou chuckles. “You’re quite the talk around Teyvat, aren’t you? I’m starting to think we should put you in disguise when we go outside the abode,” Heizou jokes.

“Aw! Trying to hide little ol’ me?” you tease, reaching toward Heizou and pinching his cheek. “What if someone asks you where I am and would assume I’m single?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Everyone stops in their tracks and thinks for a moment. You weren’t wrong. If they put you in disguise to hide you away, many people will assume you either broke up with the twenty-five men, or they’re cheating on you with someone else. Okay, so maybe putting you in disguise or going out into Teyvat without you would be a bad idea. 

Aether shoves Heizou to the side and gives you a smile. “We’re not going to do that! In fact, let’s all get necklaces of [Y/N]’s name on it, and [Y/N] will have necklaces of our names!” Aether suggests, propping his hands on his hips with a weary smile. 

You blink at Aether. “I don’t think twenty-five names would fit on a single chain. Plus, if all of you were to put your names on necklaces for me to wear, the chain is going to get tangled,” you say.

While you don’t mind wearing necklaces with their names on them, you kind of wish you never mentioned it to your precious twenty-five boyfriends. Because now there’s a huge chance these men are going to make it happen without your knowledge and have you wear it when you go out, which you don’t mind, but switching out necklaces feels like a chore.

“How else do you expect others to know you’re in a relationship with all of us?” Venti asks, gazing at you curiously. 

You scratch your cheek. “I think it’s obvious for outsiders to see I’m dating all of you,” you say, gesturing toward the twenty-five of them. “I’m not sure if you all realize it, but you’re all clingy and are not afraid to profess your love for me,” you giggle.

Xiao huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, if it’s obvious, then why do people continue to approach you and ask you to date their sons, siblings, grandsons, and cousins?” Xiao demands, frowning at you.

You purse your lips and turn away. You sort of thought it was obvious why other people wanted you to be with someone they knew. The people that approach you assume your relationship with the twenty-five men is temporary until you’re able to live on your own in Teyvat. Then again, whenever these people approach you, they would whisper it to you before talking at a normal volume.

You smile at Xiao and stroke his hair. Xiao blushes and looks away nervously, reaching for the hand that’s stroking his hair and lacing his finger with yours. Xiao is so cute! Xiao tugs you forward from Childe’s arms and wraps his arms around your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulders.

You sigh and close your eyes. “I’ll explain it to you all once we get back to the abode. Do you guys want to continue to hang out in Sumeru, or do you just want to go home?” You ask, tracing the tattoos on Xiao’s biceps.

“I kind of want to explore the desert to search for scarabs, but after what happened today, I want us all to return to the abode and avoid old people,” Itto huffs dramatically and sticks his nose in the air.

You nod. “Back to the abode, it is!” You say, clapping your hands.

Having people randomly approach you and ask if you’re in a relationship is something you never expect. Mainly because people in your world never approach you and ask you that question, ever. The first time it happened was a surprise, but the more it happened, the more you grew tired of it, and so did the men.

You and your twenty-five boyfriends are sitting at a restaurant in Mondstadt, celebrating your eight-month anniversary! Yes, it has been eight months since you and the twenty-five men have been dating! Time went by faster than you expected. Here you are, dressed up and looking cute for the occasion, while the men are looking dapper in their custom-tailored suits.

Diluc leans close to you and whispers, “You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

You blush and smile at Diluc shyly. “Thank you, honey! You’re looking handsome yourself!” you reply.

Diluc reaches for your hand under the table and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You squeeze Diluc’s hand in return and press a quick kiss on his cheek. Diluc smiles and nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek. You cover your small laugh with your hand and lean against the redhead. 

The sweet moment between you and Diluc was interrupted when someone tapped your shoulder. You and Diluc turn to look in the direction of the person that tapped you on your shoulder, assuming it was Zhongli that needed to speak to you about something. But when you and Diluc turn to the right, there is a blond man standing behind your chair, looking anxious. 

You and Diluc sit properly in your seats, acting as if you two didn’t act like a high school couple just a few seconds ago. You grab the menu and point at the dish you want to order, assuming the anxious blond man is a waiter at the restaurant.

“May I have the—”

The man’s eyes widen. “Oh! No, I’m not a waiter here!” The blond man says, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head with a nervous smile.

You blink at him and close the menu, putting it back on the table. “Oh, well,” you trail off, looking at the men quizzically. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, placing your hands on your lap and giving him a polite smile.

“I noticed you from afar and couldn’t help but feel this… Connection between us!” The blond man says dramatically.

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at the blond man skeptically. “You feel a connection between you and [Y/N]?” Zhongli asks, sipping his drink without taking his eyes away from the man behind you. 

The man looks at you in awe, and a smile appears on his face for a brief moment. “[Y/N]? That’s your name?” The man asks breathlessly.

You nod in response. “That’s correct!” You answer lamely.

He gulps and tugs at his shirt collar, his pale face turning redder the more time ticks by. The conversation around you slowly dies down as the men start to direct their attention to the man behind you. Diluc did not look pleased, knowing what the man was up to.

The man exhales slowly, his cheeks almost as red as Itto’s horns. “I was wondering if perhaps after your meal with your coworkers, you would be free?” The man asks.

“Coworkers?” Thoma chokes on his drink, coughing into his elbow.

You blink at the man before you and sigh, reaching for your drink and lifting it to your lips. “I’m not free after dinner. I’m celebrating my and these men’s eight-month anniversary,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Of being coworkers?” The blond man asks dumbly.

Dainsleif snorts from across the table, covering his mouth with his hand. “You haven’t even introduced yourself to [Y/N]. What makes you think we’ll allow you to leave the restaurant with them?” Dainsleif asks, narrowing his eyes at the anxious Mondstadt man.

The blond man’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, [Y/N]! My name’s Lukas Schmidt, a native to Mondstadt and an owner of a local brewery!” Lukas says, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Oh? A brewery, you say?” Kaeya interjects, resting his elbow on the table with curiosity.

Lukas nods. “That is correct! I own a local brewery, and business has been quite busy that I wasn’t able to go out and meet someone,” Lukas sighs dramatically.

Ayato makes a face. “Interesting. Now, do tell us about this connection you supposedly feel between you and our precious [Y/N],” Ayato says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You lean back in your seat and let yourself drown out Lukas’ explanation to the twenty-five men sitting around you. Lukas assuming you and the men to be coworkers, is something you did not expect to hear. 

Quite frankly, you’re surprised that Lukas didn’t know about your large dating circle with these handsome men. Then again, Lukas did claim that his brewery business has been busy, so maybe that could be the reason? Either way, you’re wondering how you and your boyfriends even look like coworkers when you and Diluc were very cuddly just a few minutes before Lukas approached the table. 

“I don’t know how to explain it! I feel drawn to [Y/N]. It’s like there’s a string attached to the both of us, pulling me toward their direction!” Lukas says, his cheeks turning bright red as he attempts to explain this so-called connection between you and him.

Albedo turns to look at you, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. “What about you, my comet? Do you feel any connection with this man?” Albedo asks, looking at the brewery owner from the corner of his eyes.

“The only connection I’m feeling right now is between me and this mushroom pizza!” You said, reaching toward the pizza tray.

A smirk appears on Kaveh’s face as he flicks his hair off his shoulders. “You were saying?” Kaveh asks sassily.

Lukas sputters while you take a bite out from the slice of pizza, swaying in your seat as you happily chew the cheesy mushroom pizza. Al Haitham looks at Lukas with a small glare, leaning back in his seat with his arms over his chest.

“Since [Y/N] has indirectly confirmed that they do not feel any connection toward you, it's best you leave all of us alone,” Al Haitham says, closing his eyes.

A small gasp can be heard coming from Lukas. He turns to look at you, placing his hand on your bicep and giving you a pleading look. Zhongli and Diluc reach for Lukas’ arm, gripping it so tightly that they could snap his arm in half if they were to apply any more pressure.

Lukas whispers, “Please, [Y/N]. Perhaps if I explain it to you a little more clearly, you’ll understand what I’m saying!” 

You scratch your head awkwardly while holding the slice of pizza in your left hand. “Lukas, even if you explain what this connection feels like, I won’t be able to feel it. Besides, I’m in a relationship,” you say, taking another bite of your pizza.

Lukas was about to respond when Cyno stood up suddenly, walking over to Lukas. Lukas gives Cyno a weary look, slowly backing up from your seat. Tighnari sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure whether he should stop Cyno from intimidating Lukas for letting Cyno continue out of pure entertainment and as a lesson for Lukas to learn. Tighnari decides not to interfere this time, watching the scene unfold.

Cyno stands behind your seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s evident that [Y/N] is not interested in you, Lukas. No matter how much you try to convince them that you two are a perfect match, they’re in a relationship with all of us,” Cyno gestures to the twenty-four men sitting at the table.

“They’re dating twenty-five of you?! How is that even possible? How does the relationship even work?” Lukas exclaims, looking at everyone in disbelief.

You shrug your shoulders and reach for your drink. “I’m dating all of them, but to them, I’m dating them individually, you understand? They’re not dating each other, either. They’re only dating me,” you explain, sipping your drink.

Lukas laughs in disbelief, running his hands through his blond tresses. “So, what you are is Teyvat’s biggest whore, is what I’m hearing,” Lukas sneers.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tighnari says, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.

Scaramouche, Kazuha, and Baizhu escort Lukas out of the restaurant before Lukas can cause any more scenes. You sit there, contemplating what Lukas had called you just a few seconds ago. You poke the inside of your cheek, letting out a soft “huh.”

“All because I’m in a relationship and all because a man like him can’t handle rejection,” you comment, putting the cup on the table.

Pierro sighs and shakes his head. “Please do not take offense to his words. He is a weak-minded man who gets his feelings hurt easily,” Pierro spats, glaring at the restaurant door.

If you weren’t interested in Lukas Schmidt in the first place, his calling you a whore was a cherry on top. You wanted to burst out laughing in his face. You weren’t sure if he called you that because you were dating these men or because you rejected him. 

Either way, you weren’t surprised that Lukas went from being infatuated with you to calling you Teyvat’s biggest whore. How typical for a man of his caliber. It’s laughable and pathetic. Kazuha, Scaramouche, and Baizhu soon return to the restaurant, looking visibly irritated. Scaramouche wipes the blood in the corner of his mouth and plops down in his seat.

Scaramouche clears his throat. “I made sure that he won’t be bothering us ever again,” Scaramouche states, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Oh? How so?” You ask, looking at Scaramouche curiously.

Kazuha clears his throat. “We can’t tell you what happened, or else it’ll ruin the element of surprise,” Kazuha says, shooting you a smile.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” Baizhu asks.

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure I should be the one to ask you three that question,” you said, eyes landing on the faint blood stains on their ironed tuxedos.

Pantalone leans back in his seat with a glass cup of wine in his hands. “They look fine to me! I’m pretty sure the blood stains on their clothes don’t belong to any of them,” Pantalone chuckles, sipping the red wine.

You and the men continue the anniversary date as usual. This time, instead of you sitting between Zhongli and Diluc, you switch seats with each man so you can sit beside every man without making them move. Though the seat changes happen every time you finish eating something, whether it’s a slice of pizza, a sweet madame, 

You didn’t mind changing seats every now and then. As long as you get to eat something, you’re not complaining. The anniversary dinner has come to an end, and you were on the brink of passing out.

“Someone ate a little bit too much,” Dottore snickers, watching Capitano scoop you in his arms and carry you bridal style out of the restaurant.

You snuggle up against Capitano’s chest. “Can you blame me?” You mumble, closing your eyes before covering your mouth with your hand and yawning. “At least I’ll get a good night's sleep when we get back to the abode,” you say.

“You didn’t eat too much, did you? Do you remember the last time you did that?” Capitano asks, not taking his eyes off what’s in front of him while carrying you in his arms.

You shake your head. “I didn’t overeat, I promise,” you reply.

The last time you ate too much food was at the Windblume festival. There were many festival-themed foods at the concession stands, and you wanted to try every food and snack the vendors offered. And what happened three hours later? Your stomach started hurting a lot, you could barely breathe, and finally, you threw it all back up for the next three hours. Since then, you have been a little bit cautious with the amount of food you ingest.

The second time someone approached you was more…. Interesting and things were offered to you. And by things being offered to you, you mean Mora. You’re at a party on the Pearl Galley with your beloved boyfriends. At first, when you and the men received the party invitation, you were a bit miffed when you saw where the party was located. The Pearl Galley is an interesting boat, and you’re not a massive fan of it. But for this party in particular, there were no prostitutes— much to your surprise, but you’re relieved.

Although despite the prostitutes not being on the boat for the party, you continue to feel uneasy about being on this particular boat. To be frank, you would rather be on the Crux than the Pearl Galley. Anyway, back to the party. It’s a black-tie party. Everyone is wearing the fanciest dresses and tuxedos they have, and everyone on the ship looks dazzling. Even with the fanciest clothing you have on, you continue to feel out of place.

“You can all roam around the boat if you’d like. I’m not forcing any of you to keep me company,” you say, sipping on the champagne.

Ayato shakes his head. “We know how you feel about this boat. We want to keep you company and make sure you’re okay,” Ayato replies.

“Besides, it's not like we’ll wander off and find a prostitute to sleep with while the party is going on,” Childe laughs.

You press your lips into a thin line and stare at Childe. Itto smacks Childe upside of his head with a glare. You take a deep breath and down the champagne. The men look at you worriedly. You’re not the type to drink any alcohol or liquor, but when you do drink it, it means something is bothering you, and you need to distract yourself.

You hold the empty champagne glass up. “Oh, my! Empty already? I’m going to get another drink,” you say, giving the men a fake smile before walking away.

The men watch you walk over to the snack and drinks table, keeping yourself distracted with food and drinks. 

Itto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You really couldn’t keep your mouth shut on that one? Now [Y/N] is going to be overthinking and drink away their worries with champagne,” Itto says, gesturing over to where you’re standing.

“For once, Itto is correct. That comment was unnecessary, Harbinger. Even if it is a ‘joke.’ You know how they feel about the Pearl Galley,” Xiao huffs.

While the men are scolding Childe and trying not to draw attention to themselves, you’re currently taking small sips of your second champagne of the evening while snacking on cheese, ham, and crackers. It’s a simple snack at the event, but you need something to keep you occupied. Therefore you are crafting your mini snack sandwich while taking occasional sips of the champagne. You’re so occupied (thankfully) with the snacks you don’t notice an older gentleman approaching you at the snack table. The man clears his throat to grab your attention. You look up from your small plate of cracker sandwiches and blink at the man owlishly.

The older gentleman before you has salt-and-pepper hair and a beard, and he is wearing a black suit (like every other man on this ship). You couldn’t tell what region he came from for this event, but he looked too old for your taste. Wait a minute—

“Excuse me, are you perhaps [Y/N]?” Asks the older gentleman.

You nod robotically. “Yes, you’re speaking to [Y/N],” you say, taking a sip of your champagne without taking your eyes away from the man.

The man’s eyes light up. “Wonderful! May I ask you to do me a huge favor for not only myself but for my son and my family?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him. 

Back to where the men are all standing, Heizou notices you talking to a strange man at the snack table. You look shocked and flustered, tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to find a way to speak to the older gentleman in front of you. Heizou narrows his eyes and holds his hand up, grabbing the others' attention from scolding Childe.

“Who is that man, and why is he speaking to [Y/N]?” Heizou asks, pointing in your and the man’s direction.

Aether shrugs. “I have no idea who that man is, but he looks like an important figure,” Aether murmurs, stroking his chin while leaning against the railing of the ship.

“Should we step in?” Thoma asks nervously, watching you give the man a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

You reply something to the man before grabbing the plate, beginning to make your way toward where the men are standing. The look of panic flashes across the man’s face for a brief moment before he runs to stand in front of you, blocking your way. You stop in your tracks and stare at the man with a deep frown, your shoulders tensed, and your grip tightened on the plate and champagne glass. Your reaction reminds Gorou of a hostile kitten, back arched, fur standing up, tail puffed out, claws ready to strike.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Guess we’ll have to teach someone a lesson tonight,” Scaramouche grumbles, pulling up the sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt.

“Please, [Y/N]! My family and I need you to do us this huge favor! Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to achieve our goal!” The man says, his hands twitching, getting ready to grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away from him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in your offer.” You stated firmly.

You begin to walk around the man, only for him to grab your biceps.

“Please! You can’t just pass up on the offer! What do you want from me? I can give you whatever you want!” The man sputters.

You look at the man and tug your arm from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, leaving finger indentation on your arms. You sigh and take a deep breath. Great. Now, what are you going to do with this man? He’s very desperate for your help, and you’re not sure what else to do. You have rejected his offer prior, but his desperation is sad.

You clear your throat. “What I need you to do for me is to leave me alone, sir. I declined your offer a few minutes ago. Nothing in the world can convince me to do you that favor,” you said.

With one final tug of your arm, the man lets go, and you turn to walk away, only to almost walk into someone’s chest. You step back and see Pierro and the other men standing there, glaring at the man behind you. None of the men looked too pleased with what they had just witnessed. 

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest. “May I ask what’s going on here?” Pierro asks gruffly.

The man huffs loudly. “It is none of any of your businesses!” The man retorts, rolling his eyes.

Dainsleif glares at the older man and gestures for you to walk to him. You walk over to Dainsleif without hesitation and stand behind him while holding onto his right arm, peeking from Dainsleif’s shoulders.

“It is certainly our business when the person we love is involved,” Dainsleif states, tightening his grip on your hand.

Kaeya smirks and steps forward. “You look like a knowledgeable man. How come it’s hard for you to accept no for an answer?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at the older man in front of him.

“What did you ask them that made them react in such a way?” Kazuha asks, standing beside you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

The man looks away, refusing to answer. He sticks his nose up in the air with a loud huff of breath, crossing his arms over his chest. The men rolled their eyes before turning to look at you worriedly. You shake your head and down your second glass of champagne of the night. You don’t know how many glasses of champagne you’re going to need to drink to forget about the man’s offer.

Diluc places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be drinking too much, sweetheart. Remember how you hate alcohol and how it tastes?” Diluc reminds you.

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue before answering, “I do hate the taste of alcohol, but after hearing the man’s offer, I’m going to need a couple of glasses to forget.” 

Zhongli stares at you quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing. “What did he offer to you?” Zhongli asks slowly, turning his head to the side to look at the man.

You look over at the man and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. The man stares at you, waiting for you to respond to Zhongli’s question. The way the man was looking at you is like he’s challenging you in a way. You don’t like it. It feels like he’s mocking you. You let out a slow deep breath, looking at your empty champagne glass.

“Why don’t you all keep me company at the snack table. I’m in need of another cup of champagne,” you say nonchalantly.

You walk toward the snack table, brushing past the older man after giving him a side-eye glance. The men give each other looks before following after you, making sure to bump shoulders with the man when they walk past him. Scaramouche smirks and not-so-subtlely zaps the man in his ribs, causing him to jolt and yowl in pain.

Cyno snickers and high-fives Scaramouche before tucking his hands in his slacks and walking to the table where you and the other men are standing. You shove two cracker sandwiches in your mouth and reach for a napkin and another glass of champagne. 

“Now, care to explain to us what happened between you and that old man over there?” Kaveh asks, looking over at the man from a distance.

Cyno reaches forward and wipes the crumb off the corner of your lips. “And don’t eat too fast. You’re going to choke,” Cyno mutters, shaking his head.

You swallow the cracker sandwich and wipe your lips with the napkin. “I would rather die from choking on the cracker sandwiches than take up on that old man’s offer,” you groused, sipping your third glass of champagne. 

“What did he say to you that is making you drink your third cup of champagne?” Al Haitham demands, towering over you while looking at you with concern.

You sigh loudly and place your plate and champagne on the table. “To be honest, I’m still trying to take time to process what he offered to me.” You reply, scratching your arm.

“What did he offer?” Tighnari asks wearily.

You purse your lips and debate on whether you should tell them what the man offered or if you should tell them to forget it and continue to enjoy the party on the… Pearl Galley. On second thought, perhaps you need another drink. You reach for your champagne, preparing to down your third champagne of the night, but Albedo quickly snatches it from your grasp with a head shake.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night, starlight. Drinking too much isn’t good for you, and you know that,” Albedo chides. 

“Great, what am I going to drink now?” You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out.

Venti pats your shoulders and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure you can drink water! We’re worried you’re going to drink too much and have a nasty hangover the next day,” says Venti.

“Now, spill it. What did that old man say to you?” Pantalone demands, narrowing his eyes while tapping his finger on his biceps.

You sigh and lean on the table. Here goes nothing. “The man begged me to marry his son so his son can live, and be a permanent citizen, in Inazuma because his son has been studying abroad there for almost a year, and he doesn’t want to return to his home country,” you reply. 

“Marry his son?” Baizhu asks, looking at you incredulously.

Dottore shakes his head. “No, you are not going to marry that man’s son just because he refuses to return to whatever region he’s from,” Dottore states, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Plus, you’re not even a citizen of Inazuma. What gave him the impression that you’re an Inazuma resident?” Capitano asks.

You run your fingers through your hair with a shaky laugh. “I don’t know! I told him I was not going to do it! And then….” you trailed off, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with your fingers.

You’re starting to get a headache. You’re not sure if it’s from being on the ship for too long, if it’s the champagne, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the things that had happened within a few hours of you being at the party. Either way, you want to leave the Pearl Galley, return to the abode, and sleep.

“And then….?” Gorou repeats, anxious about hearing what else you’re about to say.

You open your eyes and let your hands fall at your sides. “This man is so desperate for his son to live in Inazuma that he offered to pay me twenty million Mora. Twenty million Mora just to marry his son and for their entire family to be citizens of Inazuma,” you conclude, propping your hands on your hips.

“Twenty million Mora for that? Quite frankly, I have way more than that,” Pantalone mutters, puckering his lips, taking a cracker sandwich and eating it.

Diluc shakes his head. “No matter how much Mora that old man offers you, do not take it. It’s sketchy, you’re already in a relationship, and you’re not a resident of Inazuma,” Diluc says, clenching his jaws.

You give Diluc a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it, Diluc. I shot down his offer the minute he presented it to me,” you say. 

“But he’s been persistent about it,” Ayato mutters, looking over at where the man stands with a glare.

You nod in response. “Unfortunately. The old man has been very persistent, and I don’t know what else to do! I told him no, and he won’t accept no for an answer!” You say. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Did he even tell you his name? If he’s willing to offer you twenty million Mora to marry his son so he and his entire family could be residents of Inazuma, then he must be an important figure in Teyvat, no?” Aether asks, stroking his chin.

You shrug in response, take the champagne glass from Albedo, and chug it. You’re starting to feel buzzed, but you don’t think three glasses of champagne is strong enough to make you forget about the offer. That and the fact you’re on the Pearl Galley. A boat where many go to sleep around and gamble their life savings away. Or something like that. 

“Do you want us to find out who his son is? We can do that for you if you’d like! After all, it’s part of our job as a Harbinger,” Childe offers, propping his arm on your shoulder. 

You sigh and wave your hand around. “I don’t really care who he or his son is. I just want to go home and go to bed,” you say.

“Yelan is going to be disappointed. She invited us all to the party and looked forward to seeing us there. Especially you,” Xiao mutters, looking at the woman from a distance.

Your hands are itching for another champagne. Archons, you just want to go home. You’ve been here for a short time, and many things have gone to shit faster than you expect them to. You didn’t even get to speak to Yelan about the party, but it looks like you’re going to have to call it a night. Plus, the longer you stay at the party, the more you’ll be drinking, and you’re not usually the type to drink alcohol.

You shove a cracker sandwich into your mouth. “If you all want to stay at the party, you can stay. I’m not forcing any of you to go home with me,” you say with your mouth full. “Plus, if any of you stay, please tell Yelan I said hello and apologize for me because of how early I left,” you added.

“We’re not going to let you return to the abode alone while you’re almost as drunk as that old geezer over there,” Thoma says, gesturing toward another party guest, tripping over his feet.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I only had three glasses,” you mutter.

You turned around and made your way toward the exit of the boat. You weren’t sure if its because the ship was on the water, but you were having a little bit of a hard time walking. You’re swaying on your feet and can barely walk in a straight line. Kazuha chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, helping you step off the Pearl Galley.

Kazuha murmurs into your ears, “I believe three is your limit in alcohol,” Kazuha murmurs.

You rest your head on Kazuha’s shoulders and close your eyes. “Not gonna lie, I kind of regret drinking three glasses of champagne,” you whisper to Kazuha.

“That’s right, [Y/N]. You should regret it! Did you learn from your mistakes now?” You hear Tighnari ask from a distance.

Oh, right. You forgot that Tighnari and Gorou have a keen sense of hearing. How could you forget about that so easily? On to Tighnari’s question: did you learn from your mistake? Well, you chugging three glasses of champagne wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing, and it was not a mistake. Therefore, not really, but did you regret drinking three glasses of champagnes? Yes, because now you can kind of walk in a straight line, but with Kazuha’s help.

You wave off Tighnari’s comment, saying, “All of you can scold me when we get back to the abode.”

Fast forwarding to the next day, you woke up with a headache. While you didn’t drink too much alcohol, you certainly drank more than what you usually consume. And that is three glasses too many. You bury your face into your pillow and pray that no one knows you have a hangover. They’re going to say, “I told you so,” and basically rub it in your face while scolding you simultaneously. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. You peek from under the pillow, hesitating on whether you should answer or you should continue to pretend that you’re still sleeping.

“We know you’re awake,” You hear Gorou say from behind the door.

You toss the pillow off your head and sit up. “How could you tell!?” You ask, staring at the closed door with shock.

The door opens, revealing Gorou, Itto, and Baizhu. Itto points at Gorou and toward the hallway.

“Gorou and Tighnari say you breathe a certain way when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. When everyone is asleep, their breaths are even and steady compared to when they’re awake,” Itto explains, walking toward your bed and plopping down beside you with a grin.

Baizhu hands you a pill and a glass cup of water. You give Baizhu a tight smile before taking the medication and glass cup from his hands. You pop the pill into your mouth and chug the water, wincing when you feel the pill get caught in your throat for a second before going down your throat when you chug as much water as you can.

Baizhu props his hands on his hips. “How are you feeling today? Do you have any pounding headaches, feel nauseous, or feel like you got hit by a mitachurl in any way?” Baizhu asks.

“I do have a headache, but it’s not as bad. I don’t feel nauseous, thankfully. Nor do I feel like I got hit by a mitachurl,” you reply, wiping your lips and putting the cup on your nightstand. 

A knock is heard on your door. You lean to the side and look at the door to see Heizou standing there with a smile. You returned the smile and waved for him to enter your room. Heizou runs his hands through his hair and waltz into your room.

Heizou clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I have news regarding the man who wouldn’t leave you alone last night,” Heizou says.

You look at Heizou with wide eyes, shocked and surprised to hear the men had identified the man from the party at the Pearl Galley the night before. Actually, you didn’t expect them to track down information about the older gentleman. I mean…. Knowing Childe and the other Harbingers, they would definitely hunt the older man down for what had happened the night before. That, and because of the twenty million Mora being offered to you just to marry his son.

“I have a feeling everyone is going to need to know about this, so I’ll get up from my bed now,” you mutter. “Oh, but let me brush my teeth first,” you say.

You quickly brushed your teeth, combed your hair, and used the toilet. Thankfully, you can feel the medicine Baizhu gave you start to kick in. You walk out of the bathroom, and Itto offers to carry you downstairs. Since you did have a hangover, you might as well let Itto carry you down the stairs to where everyone is waiting for you. Itto squats in front of you, his back facing your direction. You hop on Itto’s back and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Itto, Gorou, Baizhu, and Heizou walk out of your room with you in tow. You bury your face into Itto’s back when you feel a faint pounding in your head. While the pain medication Baizhu gave you did help ease your headache, you can still kind of feel it. It’s there, but not as present as it was when you woke up today.

You hear Venti chirping, “Ah! There they are! And they have [Y/N] with them as well!” 

You wince and continue to press your face against Itto’s back, tightening your arms around his neck. Itto gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Zhongli sighs. “And I see they have a hangover. Luckily, I brewed some tea for you to drink while we discuss this matter,” Zhongli says.

Itto lowers you to the ground, helping you sit on the seat between Dottore and Cyno. Zhongli slides the teacup over to you. You give Zhongli a grateful smile, take the teacup and begin sipping from the ceramic cup. The tea is still warm. It’s very herbally with a hint of ginger. You’re not an avid tea drinker, but you needed to drink some tea for your hangover.

You clear your throat, wiping the small droplets of tea from the rim of the cup. “Heizou informed me that you guys have some information on this man?” You murmur.

“That we do,” Pierro nods.

Everyone goes silent after Pierro replies, making you suspicious of what they are going to say next. They all traded looks with each other as if they were debating on who would be telling you the news and who was not going to be the one to do it. It’s almost like a silent argument between twenty-five people, and you’re just watching them make weird facial expressions at each other while mouthing something.

Dottore lets out a long exhale, rolling his eyes. “Fine! I’ll do it!” Dottore says, turning in your direction before giving you a sweet smile. “[Y/N], darling, the man who has been bothering you is Boris Ivanov. He is from Snezhnaya. While his record is clean in Snezhnaya, his son, not so much,” Dottore explains.

“What’s his son’s name?” You ask anxiously.

Capitano props his leg on the ottoman in front of him. “His son’s name is Aleksei Ivanov. A few months ago, he borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland Bank in Liyue but failed to pay back the bank. He is currently on the run and is trying to seek refuge in a closed-off region. Hence why he wanted to marry you, even though you’re not a citizen of Inazuma,” Capitano says.

You did a double-take. “Hold on, you guys said that this Aleksei man borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland bank and failed to repay the Fatui. How come his father offered to pay me twenty million Mora to marry his son?” You cocked an eyebrow at the men. “I don’t know about you, but something is not adding up!” 

“Aleksei’s father refused to give his son money after getting in trouble with the law many times. While Boris can help Aleksei pay off the debt he has with the Fatui, Aleksei does not want to put that burden on his father,” Scaramouche replies, rolling his eyes.

You pursed your lips. “And yet Aleksei wants to put that burden on me? A complete stranger who is also dating a few of the members of the Fatui?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s going to put a target on my forehead, too, you know?” You ask, poking the center of your forehead.

Kaeya chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Relax, you’re not going to get harmed,” Kaeya says, giving you a suave smile.

You stare at Kaeya blankly and turn to look at the others. “What is Kaeya implying, and why do I have a bad feeling about this?” You ask, pointing at the tanned man behind you.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your acting skills?” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh no, they’re up to something, and you know they won’t tell you what they’re up to until you answer their pressing questions. You pinch the bridge of your nose and down the tea that Zhongli had brewed for you. You put the ceramic teacup on the table, wishing the tea was champagne. Just when you thought you were going to finally have a break from the things that have been going on for the last few days (maybe even weeks, you lost your sense of time since the first incident).

“I don’t know? A five, maybe? What are you buffoons up to?” You ask, sitting back in your seat with your arms over your chest, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. 

“Baby, we love you, and we care about you a lot. Can you do us a huge favor?” Kaveh asks, batting his eyelashes at you.

Your eyes widen. “Baby? Oh, this must be a big deal because you’re not calling me an abyss mage this time!” You said, reaching forward and pinching Kaveh’s cheek.

Dainsleif interjects, “Technically, you’re doing a favor for the Harbingers. I’m against you doing this because it’s dangerous.”

You give the men a weary look. “What do you have in mind?”

The men give you a fake smile while the Harbingers start explaining to you what you’re tasked to do. This is your first undercover mission for the Fatui, and it’s weird and nerve-wracking. Dottore and Pantalone jokingly called you an honorary member of the Fatui, earning a heated glare from Diluc and him immediately shooting down the title. And now here you are, sitting in Komore Teahouse, waiting for Aleksei to show up to the teahouse a few days after the men devised a plan on how to capture Aleksei.

You let out a shaky sigh and start to mess with the small decorations in the teahouse. “I’m not going to be alone with Aleksei, am I? I don’t feel comfortable with being alone with him,” you confess.

Albedo squeezes your hand. “We’re not going to leave you alone in the teahouse with Aleksei. All of us will be in the teahouse but hidden from plain sight,” Albedo explains.

“You have nothing to worry about. All you need to do is talk to Aleksei and get to know him. You don’t have to do anything else after. One of the Harbingers will jump in and take it from there,” Tighnari reassures you, squeezing your shoulders. 

Cyno crosses his arms over his chest and analyzes the teahouse with disinterest. “Are you sure this is going to work? Aleksei has been on the run for who knows how long. Do you think he’s stupid enough to fall for it?” Cyno asks.

You shrug. “One way to find out is to wait and see,” you reply.

Everyone ends up leaving the main room you’re sitting in. Because Thoma is familiar with Komore Teahouse, he volunteered to play as the host of the teahouse. About fifteen minutes later, Aleksei finally shows up at the teahouse. You expected Aleksei to be on edge and constantly looking over his shoulders to see if there were any looming Harbingers in the shadows. Still, he looked relaxed and did not seem to be tensed at all. 

Aleksei sits across from you, his back facing the entrance, while sipping on his tea happily and eating the onigiri with eagerness. The way he ate the onigiri made you assume he didn’t eat anything on the way to the teahouse.

“Your father begged for me to marry you so you and your family can be citizens of Inazuma,” you said nonchalantly, tracing your fingers over the rim of the cup.

Aleksei rolls his eyes and swallows the onigiri in his mouth, wiping his mouth on the napkin. “How much did he offer you?” Aleksei asks, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What did he not offer me? I was taken aback when he almost got on his knees for me to marry you,” you reply, resting your head on your hand. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Aleksei shrugs his shoulders. “Well, what do you think? Are you going to help me and my family, or what? I… did something stupid, and now I can’t do anything to get rid of my problem.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t know, Aleksei. I had many suitors in the past, and many people begged me to date or marry their son, cousin, grandson, and nephews. I’m a picky person when it comes to finding a significant other. What makes you so special out of all the candidates?” You ask, tapping your fingers on the table.

Aleksei smirks and leans forward, mimicking you by resting his head on the palm of his hands and tilting his head to the side. You look at Aleksei skeptically, waiting for him to answer your question. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, nor do you like how close he is to you. The distance between you and Aleksei seems to have gotten smaller.

Aleksei reaches across the table and places his hand over yours. “Other than my father offering you Mora, I have a few things in mind to convince you,” Aleksei winks at you, lacing his fingers with yours.

You suddenly have the urge to puke. You swallow the bile that slowly made its way up your throat and give Aleksei a fake smile. Aleksei reaches toward you and brushes your hair away from your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ears.

You look away from Aleksei and let out a sigh. “And what do you have in mind exactly, Aleksei?” You whisper.

Aleksei gets up from his seat and walks around the table, sitting beside you. You look at Aleksei with wide eyes as he closes his eyes and slowly leans forward. Right when Aleksei is about to press his lips against yours, a hand suddenly reaches out from behind the curtain and rips Aleksei away from you. You nearly let out a loud sigh of relief when Childe seizes the blond Snezhnayan man.

“Sorry to interrupt your little date, but I don’t appreciate seeing another man having the gall to kiss the love of my life,” Childe says, squeezing Aleksei’s shoulders tightly.

“Love of your life?!” Aleksei sputters, gazing at Childe in disbelief before looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re in a relationship!?” Aleksei shrieks.

You puckered your lips and looked away from Aleksei, twirling your hair around your index finger while pretending you didn’t see a thing. “Oh please, he’s one of my many other suitors. Did you forget about that already, Aleksei?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

“You—”

Childe rolls his eyes and signals for the other Harbingers to enter the room. Aleksei’s face turns pale with fear and realization. He begins to thrash around in Childe’s grasp, only for Childe to tighten his grip around Aleksei’s wrists.

“Aleksei, it’s been a while. Care to chat with the five of us?” Pantalone asks, raising his eyebrows at the blond man before him.

Childe drags Aleksei out of the room, the other four Harbingers circling around Aleksei to make sure he doesn’t escape. You sigh and rest your head on the table. You look over at the menu, contemplating whether you should order alcohol or not. Wait, do they offer alcohol at a teahouse?

“That went on longer than I thought,” Aether says, walking into the room with his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. Aleksei almost kissed me! He has fish breath, too,” you shuddered. “What took you guys so long to intervene!? I was suffering and nearly broke character so many times!” You throw your hands in the air.

“I’m impressed you were to stay in character for this long. You looked like you wanted to throw a teapot at his head,” Cyno commented, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“I did. Being alone with Aleksei for some time is torturous.” You mutter, getting up from your seat and stretching your arms. “What would’ve pulled this performance together would be if you all stepped into this room one by one, professing your love for me, but that would be suspicious and weird..”

“We could, but we wouldn’t do that,” Ayato says, giving you a teasing smile.

You pout and look away. “I know, can’t someone like me dream?” You grumble.

Scaramouche leans in, placing his hand behind his ear. “What was that? We didn’t hear you,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. “I said I need a drink!” You huff, making your way toward the exit. “I need to forget Aleksei and his fish breath,” you said.

Albedo wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Did you happen to forget that you made a promise with us that you wouldn’t drink anymore?” Albedo asks.

You rest your head on Albedo’s shoulder and close your eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. I also made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be drinking as well,” you mumbled.

You and the men return to the abode, making sure the citizens who would usually approach you in the city wouldn’t see you leave the teahouse. You’re not prepared for another proposal or matchmaking from anyone. But if anyone does dare to propose to you or beg you to marry their son, nephew, cousin, brother, etc., you will start asking the men when they will pop that question. How else will other people in Teyvat know that you and the men are committed to each other? You don’t need any other suitors at the moment. You already have twenty-five suitors and are unsure when you’ll expand your dating circle.

Note: Not gonna lie, I kind of want to make a taglist just for the new smut series, but I'm not sure if I should do it or not 🤔 Not sure how I feel about this fic overall since I typed it out while having to deal with turning in multiple assignments in one week before my spring break 🥲 Hope it's at least decent. I just know the ending is meh, but anyway, I will be keeping the poll open for Burning Desire until further notice. I'll let you all know when the polls are closed! Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @alteeeeyang, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @bajifairyy, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @wynncrites, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[meangirls-imagines]

WIPS

This list will be updated regularly!

LAST UPDATED: 3/16/24

Regina George x chubby!reader: Reader is on the cheer team and looks REALLY hot in her uniform. Regina is not God's strongest soldier.

Regina George x masc!reader: Regina and Reader are the power couple of North Shore. Regina has Reader wrapped around her finger in public, but behind closed doors, it's a different story.

Regina George x reader: Regina is the black cat gf and Reader is the golden retriever gf but not every top is what they seem (spoiler: Reader tops Regina)

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Gretchen finally gets someone to like her for who she is and not who she hangs out with. Regina looks to destroy that to have Reader to herself. Love prevails.

Regina George x reader: Reader is the new girl at school and disregards the warnings about Regina George. Regina likes the new girls confidence.

Karen Shetty x reader: Karen gets jealous. That's the plot.

Regina George x autistic!reader: The George's go on a camping retreat for Regina's dad's job. Regina takes reader along and crosses something off her bucket list.

Karen Shetty x reader: Karen might be used to Regina being a bitch to her, but her girlfriend won't allow it.

Regina George x reader: Reader comes from a family who isn't as rich as her girlfriend's. Regina says some stuff during a fight leading to a break. Reader and Regina make up at the annual Halloween party.

Janis Imi'Ike x plastic!reader: Janis is dating Gretchen Wieners sister. Chaos ensues.

Cady Heron x reader: Reader becomes friends with the new girl and her friend group sees how smitten she is with her. Regina devises a plan to get them together.

Regina George x reader: Regina George isn't gay. Well, at least that's what she thinks. Her and reader share a steamy makeout session at a party. Regina George might be gay.

Regina George x reader: Regina doesn't like how all the girls in North Shore throw themselves at her girlfriend. Reader shows Regina she only has eyes for her. (Might be a G!P reader. IDK yet. Let me know what you think.)

Reneè Rapp x reader: Reneè has a huge crush on Reader. Reader feels the same. Reneè is the last person to figure it out. Her gaydar is out of order apparently.

Regina George x femme!reader: Regina loves to remind everyone how much of a bottom her girl is.

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Gretchen crosses paths with the school's resident burnout. She doesn't really care for her until she sees her at Spring Fling in the sexiest dress Gretchen has ever seen.

Regina George x reader: Regina George is the apex predator, right? Then why was she currently writhing in pleasure underneath Reader?

Janis Imi'ike x plastic!reader: Damian has had enough of his best friend being a useless gay. He recruits the rest of the plastics to help get Janis with her girl.

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Reader walks in on Regina screaming at her girlfriend. She stands up for her girl, causing Regina to shut up and Gretchen's panties to drop.

Leighton Murray x Tatum x Reader: Reader has POTS and her girlfriends take care of her after an episode.

Janis Imi'ike x reader: Janis has a huge crush on reader and practically embarrasses herself after a gay panic.

Regina George x reader: Reader moves to North Shore for the last two years of her high school life. Regina notices her immediately and Karen and Gretchen decide to meddle.

Janis Imi'ike x reader: Reader replaces Cady in the story.

Janis Imi'ike x plastics!reader: Janis, Damian and Cady also try to take down Regina's sister but fail after every attempt. Janis falls in love with Reader along the way.

Leighton Murray x reader: Reader is Nico's best friend and Leighton is crushing hard on her. The only thing stopping the blonde from getting her, was in fact, Nico.

Janis imi'ike x short!reader: Janis and Y/N go to a concert. Fluff all around!

Works will be put out sporadically. If you've requested something and don't see it on the list, please let me know so I can add it!

[bidisastersanji]

Classic high school anime tropes ZoSan omigosh listen up this is so cute and I have so many tropes to hit I basically wrote down the beats of the season:

Unexpected mid semester half foreign transfer student Sanji with mysterious past

Zoro sits by the window at the back of the class and Sanji is told to sit next to him

Dropping the eraser and brushing hands oh my this new guy has the softest looking hair and his eyes are so blue

Your eye-

Huh?

Your eyebrows look stupid.

What did you say you stupid mosshead?

-Roronoa. Black. Stand outside. (With the buckets, staring daggers at each other)

Thus starts their rocky friendship (?) and they’re forced into interacting because they’re sat next to each other in class and constantly are paired to do class work together.

Sanji’s flirty and deferent nature around women- students and teachers alike (and his occasional nosebleeds) rub Zoro the wrong way, and Zoro’s disregard for women, hygiene, manners, the dress code/uniform etc annoy him even more.

He also hates how popular Zoro is and the amount of love confessions he gets and that he does not handle gracefully at all (you’re such a brute!)

Rivalry intensifies during sports class- episode where they go absolute ham during dodgeball and scream out attack names

Although it must be noted that Zoro feels warm when he sees Sanji stretching effortlessly, and being sweaty and fiery during sports class

Nami is elected class rep and Sanji vice class rep

The high school girls think Sanji is princely and mysterious and he quickly becomes popular thanks to his beautiful bento and the snacks he makes for his girl classmates

Zoro observes him and thinks he’s always putting on a mask and keeping people at arms length. He doesn’t let himself admit that he kind of feels bad for him but subtly drops comments that get Luffy interested in him so that Luffy can force him to join their rowdy friend group

They go to karaoke and the strawhat shenanigans slowly crack at Sanji’s composure until he’s singing loudly and happily with everyone else by the end of the evening

From then on Sanji’s smiles are more genuine and happy and Zoro is more than content with his little plan

Nami noticed and teases him about it

At least one scene where Nami steals Sanji or Zoro’s umbrella so that they share one and go home together (they learn they have to go in a similar direction and walk some of the way together from that day on “you’ll get lost without my help mossy, we know you already have too many lateness issues with the school)

Sanji joins so many clubs- he works really hard to be top of the class and does all the things that would get him into a top university- and it’s only after Zoro talks to him that he decides to follow his heart and join the cooking club and drop another club

He later gets his first part time job at the Baratie and gets basically adopted by his new father figure Zeff (Sora’s brother who he reconnected with)

He’s so excited to have some money of his own and gets a marimo keychain for Zoro’s birthday

Episode where Zoro gets sick (I thought idiots didn’t catch cold?) and as vice class rep (Nami makes an excuse not to go herself) he has to go give Zoro notes and stuff

Highly entertaining scene where he gets to Mihawk Manor and meets Zoro’s goth family

Followed by sweaty feverish Zoro in his bed that absolutely does not make his stomach flip flop and his hands sweaty (he brought homemade soup!)

Obligatory Zoro pushes himself too hard to prove he’s not sick/weak and passes out on Sanji and Perona walks in on an easily misunderstood position they’re in

BIG EXAM arc where everyone is stressed out, Sanji shares his notes and organises a study group at his place - revealing that he lives alone in a studio apartment, he glides over his explanation and says it has to to with the fact that he’s half and his French dad doesn’t live in Japan, and Sanji wanted to live here because his mother was Japanese. No one dares dig deeper but Zoro can tell there’s a lot more to the story, Sanji looks very tense and his fake smile is on (also there’s no family pictures at all)

Zoro falls asleep during the study group and Sanji definitely doesn’t think he’s adorable drooling on his tatami floors

Zoro is captain of the kendo club and has a very… intense fan club of people of all genders who guard him very jealously

Zoro interacting with Sanji constantly makes the fanclub jealous and some try to intimidate him and bully him into avoiding Zoro but he refuses to be pushed around until they find stuff about his past/family and blackmail him (this happens in a bathroom probably)

Zoro gets insanely annoyed that Sanji has been ignoring him- he then confronts Sanji about it- cue dramatic, tear filled scene where Sanji says hurtful things to push Zoro away

A few weeks pass until Nami and Usopp catch wind of what really happened and Zoro is FUMING with anger when he learns what happened. He confronts the head of the fan club and tells them to burn whatever it is they have on Sanji and to never go near him again, threatening them

Things eventually go back to normal

Zoro exasperating Sanji with his inability to not burn everything they’re supposed to make in home economics

Winter holidays and Sanji is lonely (but happy to spend Christmas with Zeff)

He is cheered up by his friends making plans to go to the new years festival in kimono (he wouldn’t miss Nami and Robin in kimono for the world! - he says , while also thinking of what Zoro will look like) zoro comes in normal clothes and he’s disappointed and insults him for not making an effort and what did he even expect from a sentient plant

Zoro keeps stealing looks at how beautiful Sanji looks in his kimono though. Nami tries to bribe him into revealing what luck/what prayer he did but he doesn’t cave, no matter how much of his debt she would wave off

Sanji gets “extremely bad luck” in love and cries haha

Valentine’s Day and White day shenanigans with obligation chocolates and homemade chocolates and Zoro feels sad cause he didn’t get any from Sanji- is even particularly jealous that Law, Pedro and Ace got some, but Sanji gave him something else since he knows he doesn’t like sweet things but Zoro didn’t realize it was a Valentine’s Day gift until Nami explains it to him later

Zoro struggles to find a gift for white day since he still can’t tell if it was obligation or romantic on Valentine’s Day - he gets Sanji a kitchen knife, to the hilarity of all and the panic of their teacher

The straw hats going to cheer on for Zoro at his kendo competitions and Sanji definitely doesn’t think to himself that Zoro looks very cool

Culture festival is ripe for SO MANY THINGS do they do a maid cafe??? Is Sanji forced into a maid dress by his burgeoning fan club/the girls in the class he can’t say no to? Sanji is so happy to bake the patisseries for it all (also Zoro’s reaction ti Sanji in the maid outfit and saying welcome goshunjin-sama before he sees who walked in and turns tomato red)

Alternatively they could do a play where they have to play the prince and the princess and we get Sanji as the beautiful princess, directed by Iva-Chan of course- and they torture themselves over the kiss scene

Luffy pressures Sanji into accompanying him and Zoro to the haunted house done by another class and Sanji is terrified and grabs onto Zoro (you will never speak of this to anyone, marimo, you understand?)

Beach episode!! Nosebleed Sanj surrounded by bathing suits (not just the girls, this man is a proud bisexual disaster).

Going at Mihawk’s expensive beach house with all the strawhats. Watermelon smashing, ice cream, playing in the water, going in a cursed/legendary/scary/lover’s cave (repeat of Sanji tightly holding on to Zoro for dear life, especially since there are bugs) fireworks, near love confessions with one of the two parties asleep and not hearing it

Background world wise- seven warlords are on the student council and hold a lot of power of course

Obligatory jealousy episode with the childhood friend and misunderstandings- Kuina (yes she’s alive, but a wheelchair user she survived the accident but can no longer compete in able bodied Kendo) comes by school and Sanji misunderstands the tenderness Zoro shows her, jumping to conclusions in typical anime fashion and running away

Class trip to Kyoto arc where the boys struggle with all the romance in the air, sitting next to each other on the Shinkansen (zoro falls asleep on Sanji’s shoulder and he lets him and shushes people), get into trouble when they’re late to the meet up because Zoro got lost( sharing a hotel room - yes Usopp and luffy are there but they need to share a bed omg), buying souvenirs, getting into a fight with local school punks (Killer and Kidd)

ALSO OF COURSE a bath scene during the Kyoto class trip what was I thinking, we need a nosebleed Sanji being taught how Japanese bath etiquette is- Sanji asks about Zoro’s scars and lies about his own when Zoro notices the many marks he has

Possibly tie up the story with finally revealing Sanji’s tragic backstory that’s been hinted at the whole season when Judge comes and removes Sanji from the school and plans to send him to a boarding school abroad- everyone bands together and dramatically save the day and Zeff adopts Sanji and Zoro and Sanji confess to each other and become boyfriends

The end

[thatseventiesbitch]

Eric Defending Donna

A rabbit hole I went down for... reasons. Decided to share for funsies.

Season 2 -

In Eric Gets Suspended, Donna is smoking a cigarette on school property and when a teacher catches her, Eric says it's his. He is suspended as a result.

Mentioned in a diary entry that I think is meant to take place sometime in season 2 or 3 - Eric and Donna go to a dive bar to watch the superbowl, and a big, dumb guy starts hitting on Donna. Eric comes to her defense and asks the guy to step outside - while he and Donna slip out the side door (😂).

Season 3 -

At the end of the roller disco episode, Eric comes into the basement and starts whaling on Kelso (and the guys gleefully join in). He shouts, "Donna told me what you did, you dillhole!" Eric was hitting Kelso because he'd made a pass at Donna at the roller disco.

In the ice shack episode, Eric and Donna play the Newlywed Game vs. Jackie and Kelso. Through one of the questions, it is revealed that Donna's told Eric she hates her huge feet. He insists in front of everyone that he doesn't think they're big, and then pivots to insisting that big feet are actually a good thing (😂).

Eric also defended her after he pantsed her in the driveway and Hyde was teasing Donna and calling her Granny Panties. "So what if she wears big panties?" 😂🤣😭

Season 4 -

Eric believes Casey Kelso is manipulating Donna. He tells him not to let Donna believe he cares about her if it's not true, and to let her go rather than hurt her. When Casey disregards his words, Eric threatens to kick his ass (if he makes Donna cry).

He is also very protective of her after the incident with Casey Kelso at the Le Motel. He tells her that he thinks Casey's all wrong for her and that they're moving way too fast.

Season 5 -

When Bob enrolls Donna in the Catholic school, Eric 'marches' over to talk to Bob and try to convince him to let Donna stay at school with him/her friends. He brings a crumb cake to bribe him. He even says he is "prepared to fight this with every fiber of my being" - until he sees her uniform. 🤣

Eric's Grandma Bea is rude towards Donna, seeming to imply that Eric can and should find someone better to marry. While Eric initially enjoys the fact that someone thinks Donna's the lucky one and he's the catch, he eventually tells his grandma that she has got to give Donna a chance, and that if she does she will love her. (Though unfortunately it doesn't work, *lol*)

Jackie's upset with Eric and Donna for threatening to tell Kelso about her secret relationship with Hyde, so in a snappy moment she refers to Donna as a 'big red whore'. Eric tells her to watch what she says.

Season 6 -

When they have their pregnancy scare and their parents confront them in the living room, Donna has to ask him to step in (*lol*), but he does, and says, "Look, whether we're pregnant or not, Donna and I can run our own lives." Unfortunately the next sentence out of his mouth was... utter crap.

After Mitch takes Donna to his brother's wedding and then lied and embarrassed her in front of everybody, Eric was going to fight him. When Mitch tried to weasel out of it, Eric's response was "Donna was really nice to you and you humiliated her - I can't let you treat people like that."

Season 7 -

When Donna's boss at the radio station fires her for refusing to wear a bikini to promote her show, Eric backs her up. He even 'cusses out' her boss and then storms out, taking her with him! Then he comes up with a devious plan that ultimately helps Donna win her job back.

*Note: I purposely did not include the scene where Eric confronts David Millbank in season 1, because although Eric wanted to fight him for Donna, it wasn't on Donna's behalf but because of his own insecurity. And we know for a fact that Donna didn't like it.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Narcissism 101: Using Google alerts and SEO by u/Imfryinghere

Narcissism 101: Using Google alerts and SEO I'm gonna rant here because still many of you do not understand how and what Narcissism works and its transformative and traumatic effect on their victims.@ Google Alerts and SEOYou might think these two matters more to the Dumble Dees but you forget their gift of gab as in oral skills is their bread and butter. They disseminate false information through their mouths and let them fester in their victims.Didn't we learn in this sub and dealing with narcs that they will twist anything to their own advantage? So why give them (presstitutes, sugars and the toilet bowls) ammunition?Examples:using William instead of just naming Harry who did the abuse on the horse. Did you ever think that one minion can or will disregard H because W (the bigger fish) is attached to the "killing" sentence?How about Anne Pasternak's hitpiece in the Tatler? Does it ring a bell to you?How about Giles Coren's 'there is an affair"? Did you all forget?Do you all want more twisted tales just because you don't want SEO searches on Harry where we can make sure the searches will actually go to the facts and not made up by them?@ Reimagining ScenariosNarcs are well-known to do this hence we get plenty of confusing statements/scenarios/events/people from their tales.Examples:Didn't Harry in his Spare book twisted how he wore the Nazi uniform because of William and with Catherine egging him on?Kill Notice on the family photo for Mother's day uploaded by Catherine. Russia/China hard-on by some people regarding the bullying against the Royal family when there's the Montecito, California USA gang, the Scotland group, Ireland, and even England groups.@ Lies, Lies and OmissionsLike reimagining scenarios, narcs lie, lie and lie 24/7 just so they can control the narrative and make people believe it. Examples:Narc minion Endgame named Charles and Catherine as racists supposedly in the Dutch translation of his book which he details his interactions with their "narcness" and then blame the poor translator for the blunder.Meghan was so smug to demonstrate how she curtsies in their Netflix show but her Suits tv series has shown she can actually curtsy properly.Meghan making lies that her father, Thomas Markle Sr, didn't pay for her college studies and a lot more lies against Thomas.@ Passive-Aggressiveness and BullyingNarcs have perfected passive-aggressiveness in the way they deal with their victims. They make you feel like you are the one who has wronged them when its actually the other way around.Examples:Meghan's pathetic letter to her father, Thomas Markle Sr, making up lies after lies about Thomas.Oprah interview with Meghan and Oprah weaving a tale of racist royal famiy where both Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip were seemingly the racists. Need I say more on this?Meghan's Bench and their visit to a Harlem school where they put the kids to sit on the hard and hot ground while she sitting on a good seat narrates her Bench wearing couture pyjamas and tacky bling-bling.Now, if you still do not understand narcissism, I just hope you aren't a current victim of one to be this blind. post link: https://ift.tt/vXg53Ar author: Imfryinghere submitted: April 02, 2024 at 12:19PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[mentallyshattered]

Everyday Freak of Science: part 6

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Azul, calm yourself. I can explain."

"You better, Jade," Azul starts up, "because doing what it sounds like you're doing is not something I am willing to tolerate."

"Mister Melanopterus has not been eating things he can digest. Upon realizing what he was doing, I took the matter into my own hands. Evidently, I misjudged something."

"Misjudged something?"

The housewarden sighs. "Misjudged what?"

Jade starts petting my hair. It's a nice sensation, and I allow myself to relax into his soft, comforting touch. "What additional affects there may be aside from a dislike of edible food that could cause an apex predator to starve themself."

"Rephrase that."

"I failed to consider that what could have made a blacktip reef shark intentionally avoid eating meat would also affect them when eating properly."

"Dumb it down, Jade."

Jade sighs. "Whatever causes an individual to avoid eating edible food must be traumatic to have that effect. Traumatic events tend to have multiple effects, and food-related traumatic events are bound to cause problems when eating. If these problems are significant enough, the individual may starve themselves. I only saw the starving part, and failed to consider that its cause was significant issue when eating correctly."

Jade then tilts his head. "I was under the impression that you were intelligent enough to understand me the first time. You usually are- has something changed?"

Azul fixes his glasses, sounding only a little annoyed now. "No. In fact, I did understand you the first time, but the noise means we are almost certainly going to have to fill out an incident report, and I don't trust Crowley to understand sentences of that complexity. Do not tell anyone I said that- and that goes for you both."

Jade and I nod before I shove my head back into the wall of muscle that is this triangle-toothed boy.

"Requiem. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine now, Jade."

"Jade? Jaaaaaaade? Where did you go?" The voice on the other side of the door is clearly annoyed, and apparently belongs to someone who's looking for Jade.

The doorknob turns and clicks a bit. I'm hit with the realization that the door is locked. Whoever's on the other side keeps trying for a few minutes, but soon gets bored and goes back to shouting for Jade.

...At least, that's what I think they do. Instead, just a few retreating footsteps later, the voice audibly grins. "Juuust kidding! I know you're in there, Jaaaade."

With that, the door opens. I can't see who comes through, but I can hear his conversation with Azul.

"Floyd! You know you aren't supposed to break things!"

"Eeh? I didn't break anything."

"Then what are you holding?"

"...A doorknob."

"My doorknob! To this room! Fix that right now!"

"Okaaay, octy-chan."

"And don't call me that!"

Jade stands up. I stand with him, keeping my face buried in his school uniform jacket and my arms wrapped tight around his waist. Before I can properly register what's going on, a hand threads into my hair.

"Be gentle." Jade's voice.

Entirely disregarding that, I am then yanked away from the person I've been clinging on to, and realize I am face-to-face with what looks like a fake Jade. This imposter doesn't fool me, though- his piercing is on the wrong side, and his eye colors are swapped from those of the real Jade. The streak of black in his otherwise teal hair is on the wrong side, and his eyes are tilted downwards instead of up.

So, naturally, I do the first thing anyone in my situation would do: bare my teeth, cling on to Jade harder with one arm, and sucker punch the fake with the other.

"Excuse me!" Azul shouts immediately when he registers that I've socked someone, clearly not realizing there's a fake Jade in the room. "Don't!"

The imposter's previously carefree expression quickly shifts to one of barely-restrained rage, and then Jade- the real Jade- talks.

"Floyd, don't. Requiem, for future reference, that was a terrible idea."

"Jade, he's impersonating you!"

"What?"

"Floyd" bursts out laughing, as does Azul. Jade is still too suprised-looking to react for a few moments, but he soon joins the other two with quiet snickers that soon become manic laughter. Only I am left utterly baffled by whatever the fuck is going on here.

"I apologize, this is entirely unprofessional." I can hardly make out his words; he's laughing so hard. Azul apologizing isn't what I expected; I more thought the fake would have to say sorry.

What if this fake Jade got caught and turned over a new leaf? Maybe then they gave him a name of his own- a middle-aged white guy's name, as punishment. That might make sense.

Well, only one way to find out!

"So you named your doppelganger, Jade?"

The three of them laugh harder. I'm pretty sure Jade is struggling to breathe, and, given that he's still holding me, I can't really breathe as well as I usually can, either. Then again, I'm on land, and I normally can't breathe on land at all.

For what feels like days, the three of them just laugh. Then, finally, Azul stops laughing for long enough to stop entirely, recompense himself, and talk.

"There is no imposter. The supposed doppelganger is Jade's twin brother, Floyd Leech. I take it the two of you have not met?"

Oh. Twins? That... makes a lot of sense. They must be fraternal- identical twins would surely have identical eyes, not mirrored in color and different in tilt. They look extremely similar for fraternal, though...

"Ah, they have now. As if anyone could impersonate me..." Jade says the last part very quietly, but I still hear. Big whoop, I was clinging on to him for dear life just an hour ago. Probably. These three were laughing for way too long, and I have a horrid sense of time. I'm not sure why.

Maybe this place has a library with psychology books...I'll check later.

"Ahaha! Good ol' Jade. Nee, why's this blackie-tip in here? Tryin' to scare me?" Floyd leans right into my face, triangular teeth on display. Most humans would probably fear him in my situation. However, I am no human. The nonshark DNA within my every cell was handcrafted, bit by bit, and added to a shark embryo, cell by cell. I was their greatest achievement. Their 18th lab's pride and joy, alive without machine assistance since March 16, sixteen years ago.

"Firstly, dear brother, this is a blacktip reef shark. Secondly..."

Something I don't like settles in my gut. How could I forget? All I've kept down is a single cuttlefish tentacle.

Crap. It's going to be a while.

[drippingheart]

The sting upon knuckles did not subdue internal ache. He gave them a chance, a chance to satiate their own desire for dominance, and it only resulted with uniform slacks being ripped and rawness scraping his knees. That, too, did not quell a more profound ache. Had he thrown himself at the sadism and blood lust of thirty delinquents or even a special grade curse, Fushiguro Megumi knew brutality could not provide the salve for fractured emotions. He did not wish. He did not wish for anything.

If wishes had any probability of coming true or if any deities existed, then a child's dream to have his mother alive and his father at his side would have come true a long time ago. However, Megumi wis could have imagined the joy, albeit profoundly unhealthy, to be like the uncaring, psychotic sorcerers he had heard about. To be cruel, to be filled with malice . . to not care about anyone except one's self, it would be sweetly simple. Life was supposed to be cruel, wasn't it though? The life of a sorcerer above else. I can do this. I can do this. She'll — Tsumiki would wake up one day, otherwise the majority of his life's actions would have been for nothing.

There were no wishes in life neither regrets. Tall tales whispered in the dark when heart was shattering and shattering. Pieces he tried collecting with desperation until the tips of his fingers were grated, nearly touching bone, and layers of scarlet turned to ebony flakes. In lieu of any cure, Megumi sighed, tucking his knees beneath his chin. The smell of irritated flesh, gravel mingling with open skin, alerting his sense of smell; he did nothing about it. He wrapped his arms around his legs, and it was as close to a hug as he was about to get from anyone, including himself.

A month to the day passed since his sister fell into her mysterious coma, and a month was, truthfully, too long. If the greatest sorcerer in the modern age could neither explain nor help the slumbering girl, then what hope was there? An uncomfortable twisting in his guts warned him of what was to come. Megumi had never been a negative child, at least not in his perspective. He always considered himself a realist, and for those who were innately bright and positive, his opinions were always seen as dour and harsh.

It was fact in a world where people died . . and mothers and fathers died and disappeared. Megumi was not completely alone however. He was blessed that his ability which would, realistically, be his own demise provided him with company. Kuro and Shiro had been lifelines of sort when the pressures of existing continued to accumulate, yet he did not want to rub his melancholy unto his divine dogs. All of jujutsu society would have found it queer as shikigami were solely seen as tools even a means to an end. They were part of his soul, his friends, and his most trusted allies; he loved them.

Already he could hear them whining and pressing their wet noses against his face. He wanted it. He shouldn't rely on them too much. Megumi dropped his arms from around his legs and lightly patted the leaf littered ground. The boy had homework to do and school to attend early in the morning, but he didn't care if he made it back to the lonely apartment he and his sister shared before it got dark. Living in the heart of Tokyo ( rather the liver where toxins accumulated ), of all of his life, he hated the bustle and noise more and more each year.

The forest with wind moving through leaves, invertebrates moving through the soil, and mammals running about — it was the peace he dreamed of. He cocked his head to the side, lying cheek on the unscathed part of his knee, and watched as he drew idle circles into the dirt. Disregarding his poor artistic skills, he drew shapes of snakes and barking dogs under a full moon. Anything short of a frown adorning the teen's face was a positive. Neutrality nearly bathed in numbness carried him through the minutes and the hours until . . Eager the boy was as the sound of potential wildlife moving through the woods captured his entire attention. Gemstone eyes scanned past dense grass and trees with breath caught in his throat.

starter for @strywoven

[imonawholedifferentlevel]

𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀?

"I don't do rules"

WANDERING THROUGH these hallways was not an easy task in fact it was a very challenging task as I'm attempting to navigate my way to gym class I'm being shoved and pushed by everyone. I never realized it was this difficult to maneuver past people in my previous school it was never this hard.

I eventually located my next class which happened to be gym. I opened the door to see several girls with emerald high-rise shorts and white shirts with a green knight on it must be their gym uniforms. I spotted a man who was most likely the gym teacher. I approached him which caused him to face me.

He glanced at me and folded his arms "how can I help you little lady?" I handed him my slip without uttering a word. He checked the schedule and nodded at me.

"Follow me let's get you a uniform" I followed him to the changing room where he handed me a white shirt with a green knight and green high-rise shorts.

I passed by him to change slipping out of my clothes and into the gym attire I winced at how the shirt just hung off my body I stared in disbelief those girls out there had perfect sizes and I'm dressed like a parachute I'm pretty sure that there was more, but he was just lazy or something.

I was not going to go out there like this so I removed the hair tie from my hair and grabbed the ends of the shirt and tied it up and tucked it in. It revealed a bit of my belly, but I simply disregarded it. They most likely wouldn't care anyways.

I grabbed the alternate hair band that was on my wrist and secured my hair when I exited the changing room, causing the door to emit a loud squeak that attracted many onlookers. I maintained my impassive expression and walked past them.

Glancing to my left, I noticed a cluster of girls casting judgmental glances and engaging in hushed conversations, as though I wasn't already observing them.

As if they sensed my gaze upon them, they hastily averted their eyes. I merely rolled my eyes and shifted my focus to the bleachers, spotting that familiar light brown hair parted down the middle. It was her, but she was dressed in the gym uniform.

I observed her engrossed in sketching something, though I couldn't discern what it was.

I continued to gaze at her until she glanced up from her notebook and locked eyes with me. Her gaze narrowed sharply, a sight that might have intimidated others, but it didn't faze me. I had seen far worse.

Summoning my courage, I made my way towards her, climbing the bleachers while she watched my every move. I finally reached her, and she met me with a blank stare.

"What do you want?" she questioned. I remained silent and gently nudged her aside, taking a seat beside her.

I made the decision to give her a taste of her own medicine and snatch the sketchbook away from her hands.

"What the fuck!" She seethed out. She attempted to grab the book, but I simply extended my leg and kicked her down onto the bleachers, causing her to emit a small screech.

I flipped through the pages and observed multiple drawings of what appeared to be a young girl dying in various ways. Instead of it frightening me, it actually intrigued me. It reminded me of when I used to draw before I went to that hospital.

"Impressive drawings, four eyes," I remarked, tossing the book back to her. She caught it after recovering from my kick.

"Thanks, I guess. You certainly have a strong kick, I'll give you that," she said, sitting back down next to me and rubbing her side. I slightly smirked at the compliment, but it quickly disappeared as the coach blew the whistle, capturing both of our attention.

"Come on, you little shits! It's time for a game of dodgeball. This is gym class, not a social gathering!" I rolled my eyes and stood up, making my way down the bleachers. I heard movement behind me, most likely Carol. When we reached the bottom, the coach began to divide us into groups.

We were split into teams based on grade level. Team D consisted of freshmen and sophomores, while Team C comprised juniors and seniors. Since I was a junior, I was placed on Team C, along with Carol.

I glanced behind the coach and noticed the same girls I had seen earlier, the ones who were laughing. This time, they were focused on Carol.

I squinted in confusion and mentally reminded myself to ensure they weren't attempting anything suspicious. Fortunately, I was amazing at dodgeball in my previous school, so I felt like I had a stronger advantage. However, I was unsure of the rules these people played by.

We formed lines with the dodgeballs positioned between our teams. The instant the whistle blew, we all sprinted forward, snatching the balls and launching them at the opposing team.

This continued for 12 minutes until there were only 3 individuals remaining on my team and 5 on the other side. Carol stood there, arms crossed, wearing a bored expression.

Internally, I questioned how she managed to avoid getting hit, but that thought quickly vanished as I witnessed a ball strike her squarely in the forehead. She let out a pained groan and collapsed to the ground. My eyes widened in shock.

"What the fuck! She hit me in the face! That's against the rules!" she exclaimed.

The coach nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, displaying a lack of concern.

"There are no rules in this game, Denning. You're out," he declared.

I felt a mixture of confusion and anger. In dodgeball, you're only supposed to aim for the shoulder or below. This coach clearly disregarded our physical well-being. Why on earth did the school hire him?

She emitted a frustrated groan and rose abruptly, storming off the playing field and joining the spectators on the sidelines. It was then that I realized I was the lone remaining player, facing a 1 vs 5 challenge.

I glanced at my entire team and Carol, who were all watching me. Letting out a sigh, I set the dodgeball down and commenced stretching my arms and legs, preparing my body for the task of defeating these younger players.

The girls and the rest of the onlookers observed me with perplexity as I finished my stretches. Wearing a smug smirk, I motioned for them to come at me.

"Go ahead, unless you're afraid?" I taunted, feigning a pout. She glared at me and instructed her friends to target me. They all began hurling balls in my direction, but I evaded them effortlessly.

One girl threw a ball at me, but I executed a backflip over it, causing it to miss. Seizing a dodgeball nearby, I retaliated by throwing it, striking her chest. I repeated this tactic until only one girl remained on the court.

Suddenly, a ball hurtled directly towards me, but I swiftly caught it with my hand and forcefully dug my nails into it, popping the ball. This elicited gasps from everyone present.

Grabbing another ball beside me, I unleashed a powerful throw, hitting the exact spot where she had struck Carol. She collapsed to the ground, crying. Walking up to her, I stood over her and leaned down to whisper, "Next time, be mindful of who you choose to confront."

I then heard applause, so I turned around to see my team clapping for me and cheering. I looked at Carol and noticed her disdainful expression as she rolled her eyes and walked away, which caused a frown to appear on my face. I made a mental note to talk to her later.

Since I didn't bring any of my clothes for my locker room locker, I had to go to my actual locker to get some. I walked over to my locker and searched for a change of clothes.

I entered the combination and opened the locker but jumped when I felt a chilly hand grip my shoulder. I quickly turned around to see Carol holding an ice pack to her forehead.

"You didn't need to do that, I had it under control," she said.

I closed the locker and looked at her with a sarcastic expression. "Oh yeah, you definitely had it under control," I replied, rolling my eyes and walking past her. She narrowed her eyes at me.

"Hey, you don't have to be all snappy with me," I turned around and glared at her.

"Me being snappy? How about you show some gratitude? I didn't have to do anything, I could have just let you be embarrassed," I said, starting to feel irritated with her. She glared back at me before letting out an annoyed sigh.

"I don't do thank you's," she sarcastically remarked. I rolled my eyes once again, for what felt like the 50th time, and replied.

"Well, you better make it a habit."

I heard the bell chime, and everyone exited the classrooms and left through the front entrance. 'Wow, is it already the end of the day? How long were we talking?' I wondered to myself. I closed my locker and turned to Carol, shrugging my shoulders.

"Well, since it's the end of the day, would you like to walk to the parking lot?" She simply shrugged, so I took that as a gesture of agreement.

Together, we walked out the door, and I noticed her scanning the area, presumably looking for something or someone. Suddenly, she groaned in annoyance and frustration, blurting out in anger, "You've got to be kidding me!"

Confused, I looked at her and asked, "What's wrong?" She ignored me and stormed off angrily, attracting the attention of onlookers.

I knew I had to intervene, so I approached her and tightly grasped her wrist, causing her to wince in pain.

"Let go!" she exclaimed, attempting to free herself from my grip. In response, I tightened my hold.

"No! I won't release you until you tell me what's wrong," I asserted, which seemed to calm her down slightly as she regulated her breathing.

"My sister abandoned me here, like she always does, probably to go see her supposed boyfriend," she finally revealed.

I slowly released her wrist and maintained a composed expression as I responded, "Alright, how about this: I'll drive you home, but I need to pick up my younger sister."

She tilted her head in confusion. "You never mentioned having a sister," she remarked. Well, technically, I only met her yesterday, so it's no surprise.

"Never truly bothered to mention her" I said with a shrug of my shoulders she raises an eyebrow crossing her arms over her chest.

"You don't like her I'm assuming?" I felt a glare rise on my face at the thought of her.

"I went to juvenile detention 3 damn times and ended up in a psychiatric facility because of her of course I don't the only people who adore her are my parents and unfortunately I receive none of that affection" I said feeling my chest slightly sting.

I saw her lips curl up ever so slightly and she leaned towards me amused.

"Juvenile detention and a psychiatric facility, that's quite a lot, what did you do?" I lean against my car with a blank face.

"Nothing too terrible, at least in my opinion". She leans against the car with me mimicking my pose.

"So, I suppose we're somewhat similar" that made me perk up and I gave her a confused look.

"Is it the same for you too?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's like that for me too with my youngest Debbie, and my older sister Barbara or 'Barbie' as I call her, my parents... they pay so much attention to them that they forget all about me and it's that little troublemaker's fault that my family moves so much because she's so talented at gymnastics that we have to relocate all across the damn world" she replies.

"Guess we both have something we can relate to huh?" I look at her with a knowing look and she looks back at me when our eyes locked, I felt something in my heart.

I didn't know what it was, but it was surely something she must have felt it too because she quickly cleared her throat and looked away and I could have sworn I saw a slight blush on her face. I just slightly smirked.

"Welp, let's go amigos, we have places to go." I unlocked the car and settled into the driver's seat while she took the passenger seat, locking the doors. I started the car and began driving towards Gabi's school.

We started chatting and getting to know each other better, but our conversation was cut short when I pulled into the school parking lot.

Carol gasped, and I turned to her with confusion. "Your younger sister goes here?" I nodded, still perplexed. However, my confusion quickly turned to surprise as Carol continued speaking.

"Debbie also goes to this school." My eyes widened at the incredible coincidence. Our silence was interrupted when Gabi hopped into the backseat, opening the door.

Gabi looked at Carol in confusion.

"Penny, who is this?" I rolled my eyes and replied, "Her name is Carol. She's a... friend who I'm dropping off. So, how was school?"

Gabi's eyes lit up as if she had won a prize. This was the first time I had been nice to her. I mean, I can be mean, but not that mean.

"It was great! I met this girl who's really cool and does gymnastics!"

Carol and I froze, exchanging glances before looking back at Gabi.

"What's her name, Gabi?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She looked at me and replied, "She said her name was Debbie, Debbie Denning." If my eyes weren't already wide, they certainly were now. I looked at Carol, who had a shocked expression on her face.

Trying not to appear suspicious, I nodded and told Gabi, "That's great, Gabi. I'm glad you made a new friend."

She smiled at me as she looked out the window. My fake smile quickly vanished as I started the car and drove out of the parking lot. It was definitely an enormous coincidence.

As I drove Carol home, with her giving me directions, I noticed a diner with a sign that read 'Domingos.' Carol noticed me looking and followed my gaze. She looked back at me and spoke.

"You know I work there, right?" I looked at her in shock.

"You do?" She nodded her head.

"Yeah, I work there with Barb. You should drop by sometime," I nod, ensuring that I remember her invitation.

After a few minutes, we arrived at a moderately sized house, not too small but also not too large. Carol steps out of the car and mutters a "thank you."

Before she enters the house, I quickly roll down my window and stick my head out.

"Hey Carol," I called out. She turns around, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

"I'll try to see you there, alright!" She nods with a faint smile and enters her house, closing the door behind her.

I pull out of the driveway and make my way home. When we arrive home, Gabi runs upstairs, giggling the whole way, causing me to roll my eyes at the antics of kids these days. I had intended to go to my room, but I am stopped by my mom and dad.

"Penelope," my dad calls out, and I turn around at the sound of his voice.

"Yes, dad?" I responded.

He approaches me and asks, "I heard you were absent for your fourth, fifth, and sixth period. It's your first day, and you're already late. You need to keep up with your schedule!" I take a deep breath, not in the mood to deal with this.

I simply nod my head and say, "Yes, sir," then walk upstairs without uttering another word. All I ever receive is yelling or stern orders. I can't recall the last time my parents were even calm with me. At least one good thing happened today, I suppose. You could say I made a friend.

[7ban-sama]

disadvantaged from the start

... I’m not usually one to complain about fandom so particularly... but. I suppose, I should log for my own sake, that everyone’s feelings towards Hakubo have been depressing for me to see. It feels there is a uniform disregard for what the narrative is trying to teach us through him and his relationship to Sumire... So, for my own peace of mind, I want to write a little about my feelings for Hakubo and how I relate to him.

starting off with... the thing that connects him to Sumire, being a disadvantaged outcast of society. Both Hakubo and Sumire are displaced from any sense of normalcy or chance at happiness. As was emphasized again and again — it was never asked of either of them. Sumire was a pound of flesh to sacrifice, and Hakubo was seen as a tool, nothing more. Here is where the tragedy lies... in never being taught how to be happy. What happiness is to both of them, is enigmatic and atypical. This is not simply a matter of being a kaii or a human, because Sumire is equally warped and unable to envision a future outside of “cursing” someone... In reality, I feel as though the point of them is that they’re equalized by their circumstance-! 

Hakubo is obedient and doesn’t know how to have his own agency. In his past life, he was meant to tend to gardens for the oni. He could have been guided towards a peaceful life, if instructed to... he was never so motivated as to be senselessly violent or monstrous. But it was humans that saw Hakubo as merely a tool to carry out their will, and it was humans was ordered to kill kaii and humans alike. Humans dictated the narrative that Hakubo was cold and empty, and not meant for anything more in life... as much as humans dictated that Sumire had no other fate, other than to be sacrificed. So, again, it was the world around them that dehumanized them and refused to see them as individual people. 

Even as a School Mystery, Hakubo is preoccupied with maintaining his role, which is to protect humans from kaii. While the Severance is deemed as “extreme”, it makes sense coming from someone who cannot think emotionally, but rather, pragmatically only. Kaii are running rampant in the school and there isn’t a way to feasibly protect all the students by himself, so Hakubo makes the executive decision to sacrifice Aoi to protect the school. Mind you, this problem is being instigated by Hanako, for unknown, yet decidedly personal reasons. Hanako is willfully putting the school at risk for his own exploits. If this hadn’t been happening, then Hakubo would not choose to endanger Aoi.

I see Hakubo as someone without a capacity to break out of their own rut... simply being shuffled from responsibility to responsibility... Left asking question after question about why... WHY did it all end the way it did-? Why couldn’t it have just gone differently? But having no real means to achieve that.. due to being, disadvantaged-! 

I greatly pity the fact that Hakubo himself concludes that he would have been better off as a human... It makes sense that he can feel this, after stewing in his own restless unfulfillment for years. He simply thinks being an unfeeling oni, a monster, is what left him and Sumire so unfulfilled... Unable to see it as a matter of being robbed from having more options... but it makes sense, you sooner see all your own personal failings than the system of oppression around you, y’know? You just bemoan, if only I weren’t an oni, and not, if only oni were seen as people too.

... I have my own experiences, with being displaced in life, struggling with dissatisfaction in what I “could” or “should” be. I grew up as a rather ‘unfavorite’ child in my large family. I was a bit of a pariah... being ah, distinctly mixed race, and neither resembling the archetype for my family’s “main” race (Colombian) nor fitting into the predominantly Latino neighborhood (an assortment of other backgrounds, non-Colombian.) In the end I... was largely rejected by my family and peers, and was left disconnected feeling from any one culture. I didn’t feel like I was the ideal anything... just a disappointment, to anyone I’d be courting. Half-formed... incomplete. I am also ah, a very passive person who has mostly lead life getting swept up in other’s instructions >>; that’s just a bonus fact.

Anyhow... it’s a bit personal but... I often relate interspecies relationships between kaii & human to something akin to interracial relationships — which is my circumstance with my lovely wife...! ❤️ — it just evokes that kind of disparity between individuals, to me... A relationship that many people will look down on, and see me as potentially dangerous or a brute in... No matter how passive or out of the way I am.

Of course, I don’t think you have to be mixed race to understand Hakubo’s narrative (it’s a fantastical story, after all, I don’t think anything is really supposed to be a race metaphor) but... what matters is there’s a sense of alienation, and inadequacy. You’re not a proper oni, but you’re not a proper human either. You don’t fit in anywhere...

I’ve seen people conclude that the relationship between Sumire & Hakubo is meant to illustrate that he is a monster who can never change, and their love was always doomed. But I find this... antithetical, to JSHK’s entire thesis. After all, what are the implications of this conclusion that people are making...? If the story was trying to tell us “sometimes, you just can’t love someone, because they are too dangerous. you can’t change or move past their trauma, they’re too messed up”... wouldn’t this have unfortunate implications for characters like Hanako? Is Hanako simply too dangerous and too far-gone to save, considering how he has disregarded Nene’s autonomy and many times lied to her and manipulated her? Outright held her and ignored her crying and pleading...? 

Well... I can see how this is reflective of the current culture’s mindset (fandom is... obsessed with the idea of trauma being permanent and unchangeable) — but I can’t reconcile with it as the actual thesis of this manga.

Do you really believe that Hanako, as a kaii, is just too warped to ever love properly...? And what about characters such as Mitsuba, who has confessed to wanting others to die, from feeling so miserable — or Teru, who is cold and violent at times, and willing to threaten to take Nene’s life even, if he “had to”...? 

Well, I don’t think this manga thinks that, personally. Our lovely protagonist is fighting tooth and nail to be with the title-character for a reason, isn’t she...

[yourkingmob]

I hate combat sports

I hate that Amateur Wrestling has no spaces for hobby-level wrestlers. Instead you have a wasteland of people who want to continue to be athletes, but instead have peaked in high school.

It’s heartbreaking that you can only do Judo until your body screams "ENOUGH!", or until the IJF, in their never-ending search to please France, finally turns it into an all-kata sport.

It’s unfortunate that Sambo is too thin on the ground to find training, is just as tough on the body as judo and is 100% funded by a corporation that is a combination of the worst parts of Exxon Mobil and Blackwater/Constellis.

I hate that Catch Wrestling outside of Japan is composed of carnies fighting with each other, while putting together less than two competitions a year with a grand total of nine total competitors. That is, when they aren’t getting “worked” by dead pro wrestlers.

I despise the fact that Muay Thai is a continuous car wreck of bodily abuse that leaves most fighters with wrecked bodies and scrambled brains before their pre-frontal cortex even develops.

Then you have boxing, which is a Darwinian filter that finds mutants who are resistant to brain damage. How do you know if you have a non-rattling brainpan? We dunno!  We’ll find out by the time you retire from fighting! If you weren’t, there’s always hospice at 40!

Of course, you can’t go to the traditional martial arts. They are full "Lightning bolt Lightning bolt!" LARPers with people playing "who can pretend the hardest" and coming to blows over Batman vs Superman arguments, except those superheroes are ‘Chinese druggie movie star’ vs ‘Japanese Carnie’.

You could maybe do a western or eastern weapon based martial art, but, uh… No.

The western style ones are buried in the tradition of trying to figure out techniques from woodcuts before people knew how anatomy and perspective-in-art worked. Oh, and the art is literally full of literal Nazis.  No, not Neo-Nazis, but “I have three Schutzstaffel uniforms in my closet and one in my car at any time” type of Nazis.

The eastern style weapon arts? Well, they combine the orientalist worship of tiny brown psychos (fuck off, those are my people) who will kill you for singing Frank Sinatra at Karaoke. This is combined with their own Johnny Knoxville & Steve-O level of disregard for their own personal safety. No one is under 30 and everyone is ready to serve 10-20 years from using that clip-it in their pocket to cover themselves in your blood. 

So what does that leave? The Infomercial Version Brazilian Pre-War Judo - Sorry, “Gracie Jiu Jitsu”. A sport created by a family legacy as legit and sane as the Von Erich’s legacy, just with more Victorian age mysticism and Mormon-style bigamist compounds.

It’s a miracle that BJJ is as widespread as it is. It should have gone "worked" like pro-wrestling but the two headed dragon of Latino machismo culture & the socio-economic classism of Brazil kept it "Alive" - the Gracies were rich compound dwellers.

Unlike every other carnie, they loved their machismo displays more than money. So they'd come down from their compound and beat on the karate nerds, capoeiristas and wrestlers in the slums to prove the superiority of their art and their family’s bloodline.

So with the west primed by a 20 year parade of scam artists pretending to be Shaolin monks and mulletted men cosplaying as both Samurai and the resistance against the samurai, it all culminated with a tubby fake special forces LARPer, who roleplayed his way into writing a script to the penultimate martial arts experience: Bloodsport.

After that, we were ready for a "Bloodsport but IRL!" and Rorion was ready to serve it up, with his law degree and the blood of his carnie ancestors flowing through him. He even pushed his scrawny & socially awkward brother to be in the starring role: Royce.  I am sure he would have liked to do it himself, but, you know…

Even with a carefully managed opponent list, Royce could have gotten cracked and absolutely embarrassed, but somehow he didn't and Rorion had his angle to work them marks! No more training some locals out of a garage, the Gracie Jiu-Jitsu myth was ready for sale.

So, plenty bought into this repackaged Japanese jacket wrestling in huge numbers on seeing the skinny, awkward and “manageable” Royce strangle his way through a crowd of clueless fighters. They bought into it so much so, it’s now become its own sport and has a competition scene completely divorced from the roots of anything-goes fighting. But that comes with its own problems.

Here’s a sport that is so disorganized that even with six times the number of practitioners in the US than Judo, and nearly 10 times as many fencing, there isn’t a national governing body in the United States, Australia or anywhere in Europe. 

Meanwhile, the international governing body is run by the biggest gym association in Brazil. For those who don’t understand how patently insane this is, imagine the Premier League was straight-up run by Manchester United, the NFL run by The Cowboys or the NHL run by the Maple Leafs.

There is no organized syllabus of instruction. There are only nascent attempts at an objective test of skills for the various ranks and they are far from widespread. Want to start a fight online? Ask for “the essential techniques for a blue belt”.

Then there are the competitions. Matches are conducted on mats of random composition, size and protective value. Competitors are allowed to continue attacks off the mat and into other competitors’ areas or into the other competitors themselves.  Matches scramble out into the stands, into the crowd and coaching areas, smash into medical tables and even fall down stairwells with frightening regularity.

That all said, it is the only grappling art with any sort of aliveness and a measure of effectiveness that you can realistically do after your athletic peak. This is a damn tragedy, because everything about it is so astonishingly clown-shoes, it is embarrassing to be involved in it.

[didyoutrydynamite]

What’s the dumbest thing poor weiss has had to deal with at her time at school?

Weiss: Thankyou for joining me for tea Cadet Soliel, it is rare to find company on these school grounds who actually upholds themselves to certain standards. You will not believe the idiocy I must deal with in my side of the school.

Ciel: *sips her tea* The pleasure is all mine Ms. Schnee. I too, share your sympathies. As fine as soldiers my fellow Cadets will grow to be, their current manners and attitudes leave a lot to be desired.

Weiss: Indeed! At least your colleagues have been ingrained with military discipline, half the students in the Huntsmen courses have more in common with pre schoolers then actual functioning members of society! Don't even get me started on that Arc!

Ciel: *nods* Yes, the infamous Jaune Arc of Team JNRZ. I have seen much of this student and have heard even more of his escapades.

Weiss: *huffs* Escapades is putting it lightly. Out of all the rapscallions in my Year, HE is the king of the bunch. An all together trouble maker and shameless flirter.

Ciel: Agreed. Jaune Arc's behavior has been troubling me as well, in fact it seems the boy has been all I can think about recently.

Weiss: *scoffs* Trust me Ciel, it's not even worth trouble to think about. The boy may be a buffoon, but he's harmless in the long run.

Ciel: *hand slaps against the table* How could it be anything but harmless?! A delinquent like him is an incredibly bad influence on this school. I mean take his uniform for example. Openly wearing his civilian hoodie underneath his school jacket, no matter how comfortable, warm, and cute it may look, it shows a complete disregard for professionalism!

Weiss: Cute?

Ciel: Like he doesn't even care what other's think! You know I caught him running in the halls yesterday? It's incredibly reckless, living so dangerously... *gulps*.

Weiss: ...Are you ok Ciel? You seem a little flushed.

Ciel: Huh? Oh, yes. Apologies, it's just thinking about Arc in this manner get's me, as they say, worked up. It's so frustrating seeing him walk around this school like the rules don't apply to him like he's... he's... *takes a shuddering breath* like he's such a Bad Boy.

Weiss: *Mouth drops open in abject horror upon realization* Oh you have got to be joking.

Ciel: This is no joking matter Ms. Schnee! That knave knows exactly what he's doing. With his unkempt blonde hair, his leather jacket he wears under his armor, *breathes a little heavier* h-his tall figure that lets him tower over you with his smoldering blue eyes~

Weiss: *Face in her hands* This can't be happening. Please Ciel, tell me you're not really like this.

Ciel: You know I was the target of one his advances earlier in the year? He behaved like he could get anyone back then. When he came up to me with his deceivingly boyish charms I had almost given in and let him-

Weiss: *Gets up quickly, knocking her chair back* NOPE! NO WAY! I am done with this conversation and heading back to my dorm where I am the only normal person in this world. This school is a nut house!

[okay-j-hannah]

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 11011

Warnings: BLAST FROM THE PAST! Rewatching Doctor Who has given me a reignited obsession and an idea for a series. What could go wrong. 

Request: This is just from my own head 😊 ​

A/N: This introduction is a bit long, but all the information is necessary. The coming parts will be set farther in the future, this prologue simply tells you how the reader met the Doctor and why she chose to travel with him. 

There will be eight total parts. Four will be with the Tenth Doctor and four will be with the Eleventh Doctor. 

Prologue: The Dying Girl {You Are Here}

Part 1: The Sun God

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song

Part 4: The Dream

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Finale: All Of Time And Space

My life was decided for me. Everything about me was rewritten, reprogramed, to be something out of my control.

The dying girl.

I never wanted to be the dying girl.

How terrifying to be labeled something so ironic, so final. Finding out my label wasn’t supposed to be a part of the plan. But here I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing: dying.

The Doctor – the only good thing to come out of me discovering my destiny – he should be here. He would want to be here. He would need to be here.

But with me on my deathbed, I want to tell you how I got here. Perhaps it’s just to stall and see if the Doctor will appear to say goodbye. Knowing him he’s probably spending every last second trying to find a cure.

With a life predestined for me, I want to tell you about the things that fought against it.

The Doctor. The fiancé. The zybanium watch.

~~~

She paused, her pen leaving an unattractive blot on the cursive of her handwriting. What on earth was that noise?

She listened for that familiar ticking, the consistent ping of her watch.

Bzz bzz. Tick tock. Bzz bzz.

That wasn't coming from her watch. In fact, it wasn't coming from her classroom at all; it was entirely too faint to be in the room with her. She lifted her reflective gaze towards the open door across the sea of little desks.

She stood as quietly as she could, her breathing coming out in a steady uniform. Something sparked at the forefront of her brain, making her limbs move involuntarily towards the suspicious noise.

Maneuvering about the desks, she made it past the whiteboard before her phone chimed. Jumping an inch off the ground, she put a hand to her chest and another to her pants pocket.

A text from Andrew: "Good afternoon, my sweet."

Why my sweet? She was never fond of the affectionate nickname, didn't think it suited her at all. She didn't even like sweets all that much, always put a sugary film on her teeth. Perhaps the name was more so about her temperament as opposed to her dietary preference.

There she went again, mind focusing on one thing and completely disregarding anything else.

Bzz bzz. She supposed she was rather sweet when it came to speaking to others. Bzz bzz. It makes some sort of sense as she was a primary school teacher. Bzz bzz.

Oh and there's that blasted noise interrupting her ramblings. Taking a deep breath she turned her face away from her phone and towards the much louder sound coming from behind her.

"Hello!"

She let out a gasp, a shrill sound as the phone fell out of her fingers. There was a man standing before her, a full grown man with a funny little box lighting up in his hand.

He looked her up and down before moving the metal box closer to her. The proximity made the light on top flash and make the mysterious noise: Bzz bzz.

"Ha! Finally caught up to you." He pocketed the box, but extracted a blue topped pen, fiddling with some controls.

"Wh-What?" She sucked in another gasp as he prodded her cheek with the lighted pen. "Excuse me..." She slapped his hand away and he looked incredibly offended.

"Ow, now what was that for?"

"I'm sorry, but you – a complete stranger – have just waltzed into my classroom and stuck funny instruments in my face! Forgive me..." She bit her tongue, "But who are you?"

"The Doctor," he stated, moving to the side a bit as if expecting another slap. "You're a peculiar thing, aren't you?"

She blinked confusedly, though refrained from snapping again, "Just, The Doctor?"

He opened his mouth as if to explain in further detail, but only said, "Simply Doctor would do. And may I ask, what is your name?"

"It's... Miss. (Y/L/N)."

"Miss?" He took a step towards her, making her take a similar step backward. The cheekiness creeping into his expression was almost unsettling.

He was wearing a striped suit, a brown trench coat, and... converse? The crazed state of his hair and the pout of his lips made it look like he was lost in a particularly deep strain of thought. And the look of his eyes was definitely something strange.

But she shook her head before going further, "What did you mean by saying you caught up to me?"

His demeanor immediately lightened, "I've been tracking your particle trail." He stuck his hands in his pockets, swishing the trench coat out of the way, "A particle trail that could be traced from galaxies away. Which reminds me..." He gave a sudden serious glance, "You have to come with me."

She blinked a few times, watching the Doctor extract the funny little box that made the annoying noise, "I can't come with you."

He looked up to her and frowned, "Why not?"

She scoffed, shaking her head, "I've got a classroom to manage. My students will be back from recess in five minutes." She stared at him now with an instructors mind, "Are you quite alright, Doctor? Particles and noisy boxes and odd blue flashlights – you must be joking.”

"Miss. (Y/L/N), I'm going to have to insist that you follow me. There's not much time; if I could find you this easily then the others won't be far behind."

"Others?" she laughed, "What a story you're weaving here." Her eyes began to soften to that of a teacher referring a young student, "Now where are you supposed to be? Are you here alone?"

He looked up from his tracking device, "Sorry?"

"Alright, how about I direct you to the main offices and you can ask them whatever questions you like." She placed a hand on his arm, and it changed his gaze from confusion to impatience.

"I'm not some wandering psych patient, if that's what you're thinking."

She gave him a smirk, "Then you're an actor, did someone put you up to this?"

His impatience grew, a whiny tone to his voice, "No, no, I'm simply here to take you away before anyone or anything else does." He practically rolled his eyes at her state of mocking silence, "Look, Miss. (Y/L/N), there's something special about you – something that I haven't quite figured out – but if there are others in this universe that want you because of said thing... then I'm going to make sure I get you first."

"There's something special about me?"

"Yes, yes – that's what I've been tracing on my... noisy box."

She folded her arms, a parenting edge to her voice still, "And people from the universe are coming after me?"

"Yes! Stop repeating everything I'm saying." He whipped out that blue tinted flashlight and aimed it at her forehead, "As I suspected, you're entirely human. You've just got some traceable alien substance radiating off you, beating almost like a heart."

A disturbance could be heard from the hallway and the Doctor whirled around to peer towards it. Miss. (Y/L/N), on the other hand, remained still and laughing quietly, "I should have known with the mention of galaxies and the universe – this has something to do with aliens!"

"Shush," he muttered, his lighted pen lifted towards the doorway. His concentration was solely placed towards the cause of the new noise.

But quite tired of this show obviously being used to disturb her as a newly hired teacher, she moved for the doorway quickly, "It's just some students returning from recess before the bell."

The Doctor snapped an arm in front of her, holding her back from advancing, "No, you need to stay here." He didn't look at her as he continued, "It's not safe for you anymore. Oh, blasted Reapers and their temporal shifting!"

Miss. (Y/L/N) gave him a raised eyebrow, "You're making it real hard not to see you as delusional."

He couldn't help the slight smirk that appeared on his face, "I'll be right back – stay where you are!"

The man, the Doctor, skid down the hallway in his squeaky sneakers. The lights suddenly began to flicker before going out completely.

She took a few steps back into her still lit classroom, an unexpected chill coursing down her spine. "Great... a mentally unstable, trenchcoated man has just run out of my classroom, telling me I'm the subject of some alien dilemma... and the power goes out."

The chill seemed to continue, the whole room sinking in cold, "Oh, the heater is out as well?" She rubbed her hands together, peering around the empty, eerie feeling enveloping the space.

The lights began to flicker and as she looked up at the ceiling, they went out, as dark as the hallway outside. What happened to the power? Where were the students? Why was it so bloody quiet and cold?

But then something came flooding across the floor, soundless and weightless, like someone had poured a tankard of dry ice onto the ground. Clouds of mist flowed silently into the room, swirling around the desks and eventually her feet.

The unsettling feeling that something bad was going to happen, that she wasn't entirely alone, encompassed her senses. Every nerve in her body began to freeze with sudden fright; it was completely against her control the amount of terror that crept up her legs and into her now rapidly beating heart.

The very air seemed to seize, like when your breath is caught in your throat. Even the ticking of her favorite watch seemed to lessen in the atmosphere.

"Hello?" she even surprised herself with the sudden question. Her breath came out cold, "Is someone there?"

The unsettling feeling made the hair on her arms stand up, her stomach twist, and she finally realized what she was experiencing: dread.

The denial continued, "The funny alien speak was a good laugh. But this is a bit much!" She called out into the darkened space, "You can turn the power back on now."

It was incredible how loud the silence could be.

"Doctor?"

But the only response was the sound of wind across sand, a figure floating into view from the hallway. It was tall and slender; the mist swirled about the bottom of its robes, dark fabric that fell in ragged fragments. It stood motionless with a hood drawn over its head and a weapon within its grasp – a scythe she believed it was called.

Its hand, the only visible piece of its body, was sickly and grey. But it was the eyes that startled her the most; the only recognizable feature hidden beneath the hood were the eyes. They were red and blazing, something that stood out so painfully against the blackness.

"Who are you?" her breath came out in another puff of cold. "What are you doing here?"

The figure moved to hold its scythe with both clammy hands, advancing further into the room. The sound of scraping sand, of crushed glass being pushed along concrete, signaled the creatures movement.

"Now... now don't come any closer. I'm warning you," she hugged herself, feeling an instinctual need to get as far away from its presence as possible. "Stay away from me!"

It floated effortlessly through the mist, the scythe glinting despite the lack of light. And Miss. (Y/L/N) was beginning to realize that there was no possible way this was a parlor trick. No primary school had the budget to prank a new teacher like this.

"What are you?"

"Oi!"

The figure hesitated, mere feet from her, to tilt its head to the side and acknowledge the newcomer: The Doctor.

"Now tell me right now," Miss. (Y/L/N) cried out, voice layered with fear, "What the hell is that thing?"

The Doctor came closer into the classroom, "A Reaper, Miss. (Y/L/N), a being created with the sole purpose to capture those they believe have cheated death."

"Cheated death?" she replied, backing away until the wall stopped her, "But I haven't done any such thing!"

"Doesn't matter – when they've decided you have there's no stopping them." He extracted that little blue pen, creating the first light source since the flaring gaze of the Reaper. The Doctor aimed his instrument, eyes trained on the Reaper's hood, "You don't have to do anything dangerous to warrant a death sentence, there's a chance you could die every day by any means!”

He pouted his lips, "Right." His instrument made a funny little humming sound, and the creature began twitching, fingers clenching its scythe.

"How is a flashlight supposed to do anything useful?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, clearly frustrated, "It's a sonic screwdriver, thank you very much. And its uses are far beyond your imaginings."

The lights began to flicker again, the Reaper suddenly on edge. A screech began scraping out of it, like nails on a chalkboard. The pitch was so shrill that Miss. (Y/L/N) had to cover her ears.

And as soon as the lights flashed back on, the Reaper vanished – simply gone with a flick of the switch – the mist, the cold, the darkness, just gone.

Miss. (Y/L/N) tried to suck air into her icy lungs and her heart attempted to beat to the comforting tick of her watch, "Blimey."

The Doctor jogged over, pocketing his screwdriver, and yanked her into a tight hug, "You'll be all right."

She pushed against him, trying to pry off his lanky arms, "And just what do you think you're doing?"

He pulled away a bit, "Hugs deflect the effects – trying to warm you up – it's the opposite of what that Reaper does." He appeared confused that she didn't understand until realizing something, "Right, I forget I have to start over with new people; it's so tedious."

She shoved him back, breath a bit shaky along with the last of the cold, "I've only just met you and you expect me to believe a hug is a cure for whatever that thing does?"

"I thought it made sense." He placed his hands in his pockets, standing uncomfortably close to her.

"Look, I don't know who you are, or what you're supposed to be doing here. But I think you better leave before I call the police," she slid around him and went for her fallen phone, "This has to be some kind of dream, my mind is always going."

The Doctor remained where he was, but gave a pout, "You know this is no dream, Miss. (Y/L/N). And I'm here to tell you that you're in some serious danger. That Reaper was just the beginning – there are dozens of them out there searching for you." He made his way to her, "If there's anything you should know about me by now, it's that I'll keep you safe. You come with me, and I'll make sure they don't get you."

She finally looked at him, an unbelievable look in her eyes, "You come here out of the blue, bringing whatever monster that was, and now tell me I have to go with you to be safe? Are you completely mental?"

"You would think you'd believe in me more with what you've just seen."

"I know nothing about you, how am I supposed to trust you at all?"

He bit the side of his cheek, "Well, I did just save your life."

She stared intently at the smug look now entering his face. His hair bounced as he walked, laugh lines appearing near the corners of his eyes as he smiled. She found it peculiar that he found the prospect of her supposed safety so amusing.

And when an unexpected shiver coursed through her, making her knees quake, he reached over and pulled her back into a hug. Her arms pinned between their chests, he used his free ones to rub up and down her back. An insoluble warmth started somewhere in her ribcage, radiating outwards and to her limbs.

The shaky, unsettling feeling was beginning to ebb away.

"See, hugs are the cure," he smirked, letting out a laugh and giving her an extra tight squeeze, "Feeling better?"

She didn't want to admit it, but she felt immensely better. She drew away enough to see his eyes, his peculiar eyes.

They were warm and deep brown, so deep that she felt as though she were falling. Falling into a timeless hole of history, of possibilities. The look was old, old with age and with endless memory.

"Miss. (Y/L/N)?"

"(Y/N)," she breathed out, swallowing hard, "My name's (Y/N)."

He grinned, a newfound light enveloping those old eyes, "Well, come along, (Y/N) – we've got to get going." He retracted his arms and went for the classroom door; there was a wave of sound coming from it, full of children's laughter and the ring of the school bell.

She stood there dumbstruck with what she'd just experienced, "Right, now hang on a minute, if I go with you... when will I come back?"

"Oh, I don't know – there's a mystery about you, isn't there? We've got to figure you out before we can solve your problem."

"Well, then I must make arrangements, I can't simply leave my work, my house, my..." her phone chimed again, and she peered at it with a lost train of thought.

The Doctor paused near the door, looking at her with another hint of impatience, "Your husband?"

"Fiancé, Andrew." she responded immediately, "How did you...?"

"Ring on your finger," he smirked, staring at her left hand, "If it's any consolation, time isn't an issue when you're with me."

Why did she have the sudden urge to run away with him?

"Time?"

"Well, I'm kind of... sort of... a Time Lord. And I can always bring you back to this exact moment when we're done."

"Time Lord? Are you saying that you can, what... travel through time?"

He shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the wall, "That's one way of putting it."

She let her gaze fall towards the ground, "And what if I chuck this all up to make believe and I refuse to come?"

"You'd most likely be hunted and killed – well, unless they want you for your little secret. Well, only if the Reapers are following some higher authority. Well, that's debatable since they're not my first choice of henchmen."

"Will you ever start making sense?" she sighed out a smile.

He grinned back, seeing her beginning to accept his reason, "Oh (Y/N), your world is about to get a lot bigger. The things I could show you. They are beyond anything you could possibly imagine."

"You mean like Paris, the Atlantic, Australia?" She gazed at him with widened eyes.

"I mean like Astragard and its seas of ash and smoke. The Platrion Galaxy where the Gates of Martontigan have monuments one hundred times the size of Stonehenge. The colony planet Galspar where they have the best ice cream in the entire universe."

He started walking towards her, hands behind his back and eyes twinkling. She clutched the phone in her hand, something stirring in her blood.

"Fintleborxtug where you can jump on the ground like a trampoline, or the Sapphire Waterfall on the planet Midnight. There's an enormous sapphire jewel the size of a great glacier there.”

He was a foot away from her, gazing into her with those ancient eyes full of memory. They bored into her own gaze, as if willing her to imagine those things in his reflection.

"Should've guessed, what with your talk of galaxies. I must seem so simple minded compared to one that's traveled through the universe."

"Don't be daft," he mumbled, "It only means we have an excuse to visit all those places – expand that empty head of yours."

She laughed, unable to discern if that was an insult or a compliment.

"Of course, we should really only focus on the task at hand, which is..." he took her hand and began to drag her along out into the hallway, "Making sure you're out of harms way while we figure out what it is these Reapers want. What makes you stand out in the entire human population."

(Y/N) was no longer protesting as she listened to his words, "And you can really travel through time? You can take me back to this moment later?"

"Yes, after we've solved your little mystery."

"I'm sorry, but how is that possible?"

The Doctor pulled her towards a nearby janitorial closet and gave her a crazed look, "I've just saved you from a Reaper, a being that you would have never thought real, and you're still questioning if time travel is possible?"

A piece of (Y/H/C) hair fell in front of her vision, a singular wave, and she brushed it away with the mildest hint of sass, "I guess I'll only believe what I can see."

He tilted his head, observing her change of demeanor, "Fine." And he opened the janitors closet to reveal what was within.

She peered in befuddled at the box she was seeing. "A police box? How did a blue police box get here?" A spark, or click, tapped the back of her mind and she felt a strange form of trust.

"That would be me," Doctor stated, raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

"What – is this your time machine?"

He smiled, "Like it?"

(Y/N) snickered, "It's a bit snug. Do you pick up the phone and dial a number and that's the year you're taken to?"

A frown replaced the grin, "Sar-sarcasm. Are you using sarcasm with me?" He nudged the blue box and continued, "She's being blooming sarcastic with me."

She saw the teasing within his words, "Alright, let's see it then. Maybe I'll believe your little Time Lord story after that."

And he opened the door and watched (Y/N)'s expression go from smug to confused to awed.

"It's... the inside..." she walked in and stared at the vast walls, "It's..."

"Bigger on the inside?"

"Yes!" she whirled around, "This is fantastic; it's like something out of Harry Potter."

He closed the door and shrugged off his trench coat, "Except this isn't magic, it's Time Lord science."

"Right, Time Lord," she mumbled, tracing a hand along the console, admiring the odd buttons and levers. "I'm assuming that means you're some kind of non-human, creature, thing?"

"Alien," he stated, "And if you made such a poorly executed assumption like that on any other planet, they'd take great offense to it."

She let her smile falter, hesitation in the way she shied away, "You're an alien."

"Yes, one that's about to prove to you that time travel is possible. Pick a time."

"What?" She looked at him with that curiosity itching in the back of her mind. The box filled her with an interesting energy. She couldn't quite explain it, but she felt incredibly safe in that space. She wanted to be there.

"You want me to choose?"

The Doctor fiddled with a control or two as he absentmindedly addressed her, "Oh sure! You want proof, it better be with something you'll recognize. Good old TARDIS, she'll get us there."

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

"The TARDIS," she whispered, "How about... February 22 – 2000."

He flipped a switch and paused to see the look on her face. She was avoiding his gaze, the smile completely gone now, and she held tightly to her own hands. When nothing happened for a few seconds, she turned her eyes to his observant ones.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

"What?"

He looked her up and down before twirling a ball and pressing a button, "February 22, 2000!" He yelled, apparently shifting the mood purposefully by being louder than the silence, "Allons-y."

And the whole room stumbled as if it had tripped over a rock. The floor shifting side to side in bumpy motions, completely knocking (Y/N) off her feet.

The Doctor was smiling like a giddy idiot while he held onto the console. No matter how many times he did it, there was always something exciting about taking someone on their first TARDIS ride.

After a few flashing lights and a couple of wheezes, the police box landed with a colossal bump, bouncing (Y/N) against the railing.

"What're you doing crashing your own ship?" she exasperated, pushing her hair back, "I don't know why, but I expected you'd know how to fly your own blue box."

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you're a bit grumpy." The Doctor flipped another switch and skipped for his coat.

She gazed up at him from her place on the grated floor, evidently waiting for him to give her a hand up.

Instead he threaded his arms through his coat and observed the steam emitting from the top of his console, "Well, I'll tell you one thing – this old girl was a bit reluctant to land."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and stood on her own, brushing off the dust, "Is that some excuse for your poor flying skills?"

He finally turned his gaze to hers, frowning, "No – aren't you listening – she was fighting against the time jump. She only ever does that with parallels and paradoxes; where exactly did you take us?"

"I'm sorry, but you're making it sound like the TARDIS, your ship, is alive?"

They walked towards the door, "Well, yeah – what did you expect?"

(Y/N) scoffed, clasping her hands together, "Oh, I don't know, when you say it's a time machine then I'm going to assume it behaves like a machine and not something with conscious thought."

The Doctor twirled around, coat swishing behind him with one hand on the door handle, "The TARDIS is not an it. She's a she."

(Y/N) quickly noted the striking look in his face and removed any sarcasm from her tone, "Right, she..." She grazed a hand along the railing of the ramp to the entrance and an unexpected flurry of lights and noise came from the console.

"Strange," Doctor muttered, moving his eyes across the ceiling, "She likes you – she never likes anyone – at least not right off. She's like a cat in that respect. You insulted her and everything, and yet she's purring." He let his words fly from his mouth, as if he were trying to move his lips as quickly as his thoughts, "Or maybe she's sensing something from you, also kind of like a pet."

The TARDIS gave another flurry of sound, but in a much lower octave and the Doctor ran a hand along the doorframe, "Sorry, old girl, of course you're more than a pet to me."

(Y/N) kept her hands held tightly in front of her.

"What is she sensing off of you?" He took two large strides to reach her figure, standing uncomfortably close again, "Dilated pupils, pale lips, shaky hands... you're nervous about something." He turned his head quickly from the door to her a few times, pointing one of his spindly fingers, "You're scared of whatever's out there. That's why the TARDIS was hesitating to land, that's why you're all grumpy and snippy, and that's why you're looking at me like you want me to burst into flames."

She stared at him for a few more seconds, finally moving her gaze towards the floor, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"900 years and I've never figured out how." He gave a quick smile and stuck his tongue between his teeth. The twinkle in his eye lessened her nerves somehow, making her gaze at him with a small amount of gratitude. "Oh, was I being rude? That was the first thing I noticed about this body – has a touch of rudeness."

Shaking her head, starting to realize that she'll probably never fully understand the man, "I've noticed – always with a bit of impertinence."

The Doctor smiled again, "Look at you with the big words." His gaze softened suddenly, catching (Y/N) off guard, seeing the deep falling colors lessen to simple kindness, "Come along now."

He took her clutched hands and confidently opened the door.

It looked like they were back in the janitorial closet of her primary school. All her pent up nerves almost vanished completely, "Have we seriously not moved at all?"

The Doctor kept hold of her hand and made for the door handle, "Seriously, Miss. (Y/L/N), you're going to have to start trusting me if we're going to manage space and time travel."

The kindness from his eyes was threading into his voice and she could manage to keep the irritation at bay. If it were really February 22, 2000, outside that door, she was about to enter a moment of time that she'd been dreaming about witnessing for years.

And when the janitorial closet was opened and she saw the hospital tile below, she felt the rush of realization and terrified eagerness envelop her.

"A hospital?" the Doctor muttered, pulling (Y/N) out into the hallway, "What're we at a hospital for? I’ve never liked hospitals.”

She didn't seem able to respond, her gaze searching for the nearest directory. St. Bartholomew's, it said, the trauma floor and surrounding services. It drew her attention to down the hallway of doors, seeking the number she'd memorized and pondered for as long as she could remember.

"Eh, (Y/N)? How about we let the Time Lord handle the timey-wimey stuff," he strode quickly behind her quick steps, "Look, (Y/N), if you chose a time and place from your own timeline, then we have to be careful."

She disregarded him, heart pounding in her ears.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

There was the room, number 110, the window with the shades open just a smidge.

"(Y/N), I need you to listen to me..." he finally caught her shoulder and made her face him. "(Y/N), there's something you need to understand. If you chose a time where we could see your past self then we have to make sure you stay out of sight."

The kindness in his gaze had a hint of desperation, wide and imploring and he waggled a finger in front of her expressionless face. She stared at him and quivered with his hand on her shoulder, "Don't worry, we won't see each other."

He tilted his head and scrunched his brow, "What do you mean?"

She turned her gaze to the window beside them and muttered, "Cause I'm asleep – and I'll be asleep for just a while longer."

The Doctor followed her look and snuck a glance through the window shades, "Is that you?"

(Y/N) stood beside him, breathing shallow, "Yeah."

Laying in the hospital bed was another (Y/N), one that was sound asleep with an oxygen mask and a few IVs in place. She saw her own knotted hair and dark circles beneath her eyes; her skin was ashen grey, and the monitors ticked and tocked with her heartbeat.

"What happened?" the Doctor quietly asked, remaining still as they watched her past self snooze.

She took a deep breath, "A while before this, I was found – wandering the streets and passed out in the gutter – I was brought here... and was in a coma for a few months." She swallowed hard and muttered, "Today is the day I woke up."

The Doctor moved just enough to glance at her expression, putting his hands in his suit pockets. "Why would you want to come back here?"

(Y/N) remained silent for a few moments longer, staring at her sickly self through the window, "Because today is the first memory I have. Before waking up today, I can't remember a thing." She could feel the Doctor boring into her, searching for some kind of reaction, "I just... with the possibility of time travel – I wanted to see it all for myself. Maybe I could get another clue as to who I am."

He pouted and continued to look at her, "You don't have any idea who you are?"

"Who I am, where I come from, what my name is, if I have a family..." she took a shuddering breath and refrained from letting the moment hit her fully. "If there are people out there looking for me, if I was abandoned on purpose or if I was taken away."

"Well... that makes things a bit more difficult."

She was surprised by his change of tone, turning glassy eyes to his slightly more enthused ones.

"I mean, the whole idea of taking you with me was to figure you out – to see what makes you so desirable to the Reapers – and now it appears that the only information you have spans a measly seven years."

She could see him trying to deflect the mood with his twinkling eyes and cheeky grin and fluctuating tone of voice. She could feel her chest pulling at wanting to smile as easily as him, then again, how genuine that smile was crossed her mind.

He sniffed and cleared his throat, "I suppose before when I said your head was empty for filling..." A sneaky glance made her crack the smallest hint of a smile.

"Maybe this is part of the mystery of why I'm special – according to your noisy box." She blinked her glazed eyes a few times and folded her arms, "I just can't remember."

The Doctor called out suddenly, "Alright, might as well investigate while we're here." He whipped out a pair of glasses and pulled a chart from a peg on the door.

(Y/N) upturned the corner of her mouth and stated, "You're going to help me?"

He flipped through the first few pages and scanned hurriedly, "Yep, you've conveniently chosen a time and place where we can start solving your little mystery." He gave a cheeky smile, "And I know a thing or two about solving mysteries."

She felt more warmth spreading to her limbs despite her knees shaking where she stood, "But why?" She watched him be consumed with what he saw, "I'm being hunted by alien creatures, radiating some trackable alien substance, and I have no past I can recall explaining any of it. Why would you pop up and take on a case like that?"

The Doctor removed his glasses and took his time to turn his gaze on her, "Because it's what I do – I'm the Doctor."

That feeling that she won't ever properly understand came over her again. "So calling yourself Doctor is more of a title than a name?"

He gave her one of those pondering looks, "Well... I believe you chose your name when you came to, right? Said you couldn't remember your real one." He hesitated only to see if she would respond, "I suppose you could say I chose mine too."

"Why did you do that if you had one to begin with?"

The Doctor moved his eyes, so he was looking at nothing in particular, "I woke up."

She was struck with momentary irritation at his short answer – something so cryptic.

"There's something strange about these documents," he continued as if there was nothing peculiar about what he had just shared. "What can you see written here?"

(Y/N) leaned over and read aloud, "Patient is called Jane Doe, blood type is A+, notes say there are symptoms of amnesia, dehydration, emaciation, and a possible heart arrhythmia."

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"That's not what I see at all," the Doctor held up his glasses and compared the paper with and without peering through them. "The writing's a bit dodgy, fuzzy around the corners, now my eyesight can't be that bad."

(Y/N) unfolded her arms and leaned closer, "What are you seeing?"

"Patient called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), blood category is O-, and the notes are rambling on about a concussion, bipolar syndrome, and anemia." He handed his glasses over to (Y/N) and held the chart an inch away from his face.

"You're making that up – how could we be seeing two different sets of information on the same piece of paper?"

The Doctor sniffed the four corners of the page and then proceeded to lick a long strip up the middle, "Interesting." He hummed, "Tastes of peppermint."

(Y/N) amused him with a disgusted face, "Peppermint?"

"The smell opens up the mind, clears the senses, makes you susceptible to persuasion – psychic paper."

"Psychic paper?"

"A page that tells you what you want to hear," Doctor muttered, turning the chart all around so he can see every edge. "Not usually effective on geniuses like myself."

(Y/N) blinked a few times and waved her hands around, "Are you telling me that there's more alien things happening to me? You think it has something to do with how I got here?"

"Well, your information seems to be faked by alien technology," he replaced the chart on the wall and leaned against the window again, "Why would a human be protected by alien technology?"

"Friends in higher places?"

"Or..." he looked back at her with squinted, observant eyes, "You're not all that you think you are."

She appeared confused and slightly fearful of that prospect, but in a moment of silent wonderings she noticed a pair of scrubs making their way towards them.

"Doctor, we need to hide, now." She grasped his coat sleeve and turned to find the nearest on-call room.

They slid across the tiled floor and hid in the dark space with only a small window in the door to light their faces. "What'd you do that for?"

She felt her heart begin to race a bit, flattening herself against the wall, "My nurse was making his way over." She watched the Doctor look out for the man in scrubs, "I mean – my fiancé."

"Your what?"

"I may or may not have gotten engaged to my nurse."

He grinned his funny grin and addressed (Y/N), "That's rather cheeky of you."

"His face was the first one I saw when I woke up. You could say I got rather attached to whatever my first memory was."

"Oh, humans," Doctor mused, turning around and finding a rack of white coats, "So romantic and sentimental." He grabbed a coat to replace his brown one.

(Y/N) finally managed to pull herself from the wall, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Part of investigating is interrogation – seeing as you're occupied at the moment in dreamland, I might as well question the next most helpful. Your nurse."

She gapped her mouth and stuttered, "But – but doesn't that do something terrible to the space-time quantum continuum future?" She flailed her arms at his puzzled stare, "Won't your interfering change my future?"

He straightened his white coat and reached for his glasses still clutched in (Y/N)'s hands, "You'll find that being a Time Lord I have a bit more free range about judging what's a fixed point in history and what's open for suggestion."

And without another word he flung the door open and traveled back down the hallway to her old hospital room.

Her entire existence was being changed before her eyes – everything she knew about herself was being rewritten in her sparing memories. Psychic paper and intelligent TARDIS' and alien lifeforms. The sudden knowledge was soaking her up, taking her curiosity to new levels. The mission to figure out who she was began to resurrect within her.

After years of searching and giving up, she finally found another reason to try, she had a small glimmer of hope.

And it was all because of some time traveling spaceman that was interrogating her future fiancé as she stood there thinking in the dark.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

She went for the closet and found an indiscernible pair of scrubs, quickly throwing them on and pulling her hair into a tight bun to hide it. Stringing a facemask over her ears, she snuck out the door and fumbled her way to her hospital room.

Peering through the window she saw the Doctor pretending to check her vitals as she slept. Her nurse-fiancé was standing at the foot of the bed and holding a clipboard of paperwork and charts.

"Andrew," she muttered, looking at her future husband flip through files. His face was the one she remembered, the first one to greet her, calm her, help her. Before thinking about it too much she shoved the door open and watched as both men snapped their heads over.

"Hello," she said with a strained voice. She adjusted her facemask to cover as much as she could, "I've... I've been asked to – to get confirmation on, um... the patient's diagnosis."

Andrew gave a puzzled expression, "I'm sorry?"

"There's been some, uh – confusion on what this patient is suffering from. Scans have been befuddled."

"Who ordered this?" Andrew questioned, staring at this new nurse with heavy skepticism.

The Doctor interfered smoothly, "I did – I noticed that notes have been inconsistent. The charts have been contradicting one another." He gave a swift wink towards (Y/N), apparently pleased in the way she ran in with improvisation.

"Well, I'm the leading nurse on her case," he went on, "Whatever questions you have I can answer.”

(Y/N) nodded vigorously, "Right, yes – sorry, this is my first day."

He gave her another speculating look, "Alright." He got a nod from the Doctor and sifted through the files in his hands, "It's true that the first scans are a bit fuzzy, but the machines have always been temperamental – that's what you get with a strained budget. We can order a new set when she wakes up."

The Doctor and (Y/N) walked over to peer over the nurse's shoulders. It was true that the X-rays and CT scans were a bit dim; they didn't hold a whole lot of information. You couldn't exactly tell what organ was what.

"The chest cavity is all messed up," the Doctor stated, earning a glare from (Y/N). "Why can't you see anything in the ribcage? Or the abdomen for that matter."

"Like I said, the machines are a bit wonky when they choose to be. We managed to get a clearer one the other day after her routine six month check-up." He extracted the most recent pages and revealed perfectly taken scans.

The Doctor snatched them immediately and held them to the light. After a second he sniffed the surface deeply before taking an unnecessarily long lick.

(Y/N) couldn't help but snicker at the way Andrew looked affronted, but she knew what the Doctor was searching for.

"And what about the diagnosis?" he continued, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Um... it's speculated she has amnesia, but other than that we've had on and off readings for heart arrhythmia, anemia – possible sickle cell, underdeveloped lungs, maybe asthma. But we can't be sure until she wakes up."

(Y/N) nodded, putting her hands behind her back, "And you're not sure when that'll be?"

He gave a sympathetic smile, as if saying it's ridiculous to ask such a stupid question, "Well, we don't exactly have a timer on each coma patient. They wake up when they choose to."

The Doctor went to lean over the sleeping (Y/N), tossing the scans back towards Andrew. He prodded her cheek, laying a hand over her forehead, and moved her upper lip to peer at her teeth.

"Andy, didn't you say her vitals have been picking up in the last week?"

The nurse appeared affronted again, "How did you know my name? Only my friends call me Andy and you're new here."

Tactless. She pinched the palm of her hand in punishment for failing the smooth entry of information. She only knew about the vitals because it was one of the notes in her full medical report later on.

"Sorry, someone at the nurse's station mentioned."

It appeared to be a satisfactory response for now, as he continued with a slight frown, "Yes, her vitals have been raising from a dormant state to one that is moving around."

She stared at him with the strange realization that this was the past Andy she was talking to. This Andy only knew her as the lost girl that slept for months on end. It was strange looking at him and not having recognition look back at her.

Meanwhile the Doctor was continuing with his checking, sticking a finger in coma (Y/N)'s ear and then placing a hand on her cheek.

"Oh no..." he muttered.

A spike on the heart monitor signaled Andrew to the side of the bed, "What're you doing over here?"

(Y/N) felt a shock of panic course her chest, snapping her head to look at the clock and then to the bed.

"She's waking up," Andy stated, "I don't believe it – she's waking up."

The Doctor remained where he was, leaning over (Y/N) and holding the side of her head. Her eyes were beginning to flutter open, adjusting to the harsh light. The man above her ran a thumb over her cheek and grinned, "Brilliant."

The heart monitor began to alarm with the sudden raise in blood pressure and heart rate, "Where – where am I? Who are you? What're you doing standing over me?"

The Doctor seemed to come to his senses and backed away, retracting his hand as if he had touched something scalding hot. The (Y/N) in bed tried to sit up, all in a tizzy, but found herself unable to.

Andrew stepped in, calming and resting her down against the pillows, "Your muscles will be sore. They haven't been used in quite a while."

But her eyes remained on the Doctor as he went to stand next to present (Y/N) near the door. His hands went to his pockets as he awkwardly looked anywhere but the bed.

"I think we should go," (Y/N) muttered, taking the Doctor's sleeve, "We'll spread the word."

Andrew waved them off, taking hold of his patient's hand and giving his full undivided attention.

The Doctor and (Y/N) went back towards the janitorial closet and the waiting TARDIS. They stripped themselves of the hospital outfits and stared at each other for a few moments.

"Did we really just..."

The Doctor tried to hide a smile, "Yes."

She wracked her brains a bit more and suddenly came upon a memory, something she knew to be different but somehow also knew it as the only memory she ever had.

"You changed my memory – my future."

He pursed his lips and brushed off his trench coat, "I have no idea what you mean."

"I told you the first face I saw when I woke up was Andrew's. But just now – and now in my head – your face was the first one I saw." She had a hand to her temple like she had a sudden head rush, "I now recognize you as the doctor that brought me out of my coma. You were my doctor, Doctor!"

He clenched his teeth and sucked in a hissing breath, "Yeah, about that – it's not the worst disturbance in your timeline, other than ruining the romantic meeting between you and your fiancé."

She balled up her used scrubs and threw them at the guilty Doctor, "You were supposed to help me find my missing memories, not change the ones I already had!" There was a hint of a laugh behind her words, but she was amused by the slight apprehension in the Doctor's face.

"Now, (Y/N), it's not some life altering change, you can still tell the kids it was really your husband you saw first."

"Fiancé."

"Whatever – husband soon enough. The point is now we know someone was interfering with your files. First the charts and then the scans..."

(Y/N) folded her arms tightly, hiding her balled fists, and let the rush of the events crash over her. "The scans tasted of peppermint too?"

The Doctor seemed to thrive from her thoughts catching on; he pointed a finger at her, "Yes, exactly." He paced around the TARDIS' console, thinking out loud, "Someone replaced your information with psychic paper, powerful psychic paper.”

"That means – then that means whatever alien contact I've had came from when I first got to the hospital."

"Yes, something alien got you to that hospital and filed you as a patient without proper information."

She put a finger between her teeth and stated, "Then maybe this alien person wiped my memory too, maybe they had something to do with it and made it their responsibility that I was taken care of in hospital."

The Doctor appeared thrilled with the new developments, running down the ramp and towards her scrunched figure. His plastered grin tugged at her chest but didn't remove the tense frown from her face. As she stared at his ignited eyes, her hand subconsciously drifted from her teeth to her cheek – the one he held when she woke up.

But this time his brow wasn't contorted and concerned, it was raised and amused.

"That's progress, isn't it? Now we should try to retrace your steps from that hospital bed, see if we can get anything more. Or else we could follow the Reapers."

She felt her shaky knees return, her hands clenching against the trembling. She had learned more about her past in the last hour than she'd learned in the last seven years being awake. It was ridiculous to think of what had just happened – they had changed her memories, she spoke to her fiancé without him knowing who she was, and she stared at herself in a coma while an alien licked a peppermint flavored CT scan.

And to think, this morning she was fretting over a coffee stain on her trousers.

The Doctor seemed to notice the slight panic entering her vision, her hand still clutching her cheek. He placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling, "(Y/N)?" She snapped her gaze to his and found that familiar concerned look, the one she woke up to.

"It's just a lot, isn't it? Time travel, being in two places at once, finally getting answers."

He stared at her intently, now pouting and gently pulling her in. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, "Delicate humans – I went and overwhelmed your little human brain."

Again she couldn't tell if he was insulting her or complimenting her. She saw the comfort nonetheless and started to return the hug, "Look at me, shivering and I haven't even seen a Reaper."

The Doctor chuckled at her attempted joke, rubbing up and down her back – the cure to facing a Reaper, "I suppose I should properly ask you now." He held her close as he spoke, "There's so much more to the universe then us figuring out your past. It's beautiful out there, (Y/N), and I could show you all of it." He pulled away enough to see her pondering face, "How would you feel about traveling... with me."

She searched his gaze, the way it made her fall, fall into endless ancient history. That was the word for him: ancient. There was so much to behold... and to hide.

"I could protect you – keep you safe," he went on, evidently sensing her hesitation to respond.

"I thought you said there wasn't a choice in coming with you," she muttered, swallowing hard, "It's either that or be hunted and killed."

He snuck a smug smile, "Like I said, I'm asking you properly now. I don't want to force you to stay when you don't want to. I'm offering more than protection now; I'm offering the universe."

She looked at his old, distant eyes and found that twinkle of curiosity and something a bit more urgent... something like hope.

"And you can take me home whenever – so I don't miss out on my Earth life?"

"Of course, whatever you want."

She finally cracked a smile and unclenched her hands, "The whole universe, eh?"

Cheekiness entered those hopeful eyes, "Past, present, and future."

"Seems like a whole lot of memories to be made, Doctor. Wherever shall we start."

He grew into an earsplitting grin, "Brilliant!" And he wrapped his arms around her, swinging her across the TARDIS, laughing as they went. "Right, seeing as you're going to be staying at l'hôtel le tardis for an extended period... I will gladly show you to your room."

(Y/N) leaned against the railing, wondering what on earth he meant. The TARDIS was a circular ship; there was no other door besides the one opening to outer space. She grinned, "Do you have some secret hall of rooms stashed away beneath the seats?"

She gestured towards the few worn spaceship chairs he'd once confiscated off a drifting American craft and it made him jump, "Well, where do you think I sleep?"

Again she stared at those lumpy, dirty chairs with an air of disgust, and it got him laughing, "Remember what I told you about Time Lord science? Everything is bigger on the inside." He led the way down the ramp and knelt to the ground, peering into the grate beneath.

(Y/N) snickered, starting to get use to all the peculiarity that came with being around the Doctor, "Have you lost your rooms?"

"It could be possible," he breathed out seriously, attempting to find a grip along the grate panel, "Sometimes the TARDIS likes to toy with me."

(Y/N) looked around the ceiling of the craft, smiling, "Someone's got to."

The Doctor let out a short laugh of exclamation, lifting the panel from the ground and revealing a short ladder downwards. Whatever (Y/N) was expecting to see at the bottom was nothing close to what she actually saw.

Stepping off the rungs of the ladder, there was a wide living space, complete with a makeshift kitchen and lounge chairs. A number of doors lined the walls, including an opening to a long hallway that seemed to go on forever.

The Doctor went over, smacking a few of the couch cushions and emitting a flurry of dust into the air, "Sorry – this place doesn't get used much."

"But don't you live here?" Her eyes scanned the space, wonderment at how much was stuck inside a seemingly tiny police box.

"Yes, well – I don't require as much sustenance and rest as humans do. I don't eat nearly as often, and I can put myself in a trance of sleep for twenty minutes that feels like eight hours for you humans." He put his hands in his pockets and had a second of shame for not providing a more suitable living environment.

(Y/N) could only smirk, "Then what will you do when I have to eat and sleep? Like you said, we don't know how long I'm staying here at l'hôtel le tardis."

Looking at her broke him out of his momentary guilt, "There's plenty to do when investigating. I'll just continue on with the job, but don't worry – I'll save the best adventures for when you're bright eyed and bushy tailed."

She nodded and found that she couldn't meet his eyes, it was rather strange being in the space, like she was the alien there. Technically she was – and she had to force herself to remember the reason she was there at all.

"Uh – your room is just here." He gestured towards a door beside the set of couches, taking the liberty to lead her to it.

The room itself was just as dusty and dingy as the rest of the things on the spaceship. Everything was still and stuffy from lack of use and seemed a bit tousled from the number of landings the TARDIS had done.

There was a bed complete with pillows and maroon sheets, along with a nightstand and a vanity. (Y/N) could feel the Doctor's eyes boring into the back of her head, so she urged her feet to enter the room entirely. She was silent for a while, apparently a while too long as the Doctor started rambling onward.

"I know, I know – I advertised a hotel and you're getting something less than a motel," he ran a hand over the back of his neck, "But like I said, this place doesn't get used very often. And if I knew I was going to be picking up a house guest, I would've spruced the place up a bit. Well, that is if I could find the vacuum, or a rag for that matter."

He awkwardly folded his arms, scrunching his shoulders in a way to fill the silence with his eccentrics. "But we can throw the dust out and get you whatever you need. I suppose you'll need a few things, like... socks and... hairpins. And maybe a toothbrush – oh on second thought..." And he reached into his trench coat and extracted a packaged toothbrush, "We can cross that one off the list."

(Y/N) finally turned to him, hugging herself and nodding to his words. She almost felt sorry for him; the way he couldn't seem to shut up was perhaps endearing.

"Oh! And there's a bathroom just off there so you don't have to leave your room for a shower. The TARDIS is very kind about providing hot water, unless you accidentally park her on top of a tree, but I doubt you'll do that."

"Doctor..."

"Hmm?" he hummed his reply, staring at her and thinning his lips as he clamped his mouth shut.

She let out a smile she was purposefully holding, "This will do just fine."

He breathed out a sigh of relief, "Brilliant."

"Grocery shopping will be a must – I'm assuming you don't have shampoo or pajamas in that coat of yours?"

The Doctor quirked his lips, padding down the front of his jacket comically, "No, fresh out of pajamas. We can go explore a few of the other rooms for some though. The TARDIS is always full of surprises."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow in question, but he moved on, "You settle yourself and I'll be up by the console when you're ready." He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her for a second too long before turning with a flourish back to the ladder.

She laughed under her breath, using her hands to push back her hair and stare at her temporary bedroom.

It was peculiar, the whole thing – the thought of her dropping her life on earth so quickly and taking the hand of an actual alien with a time machine. A time machine disguised as an outdated police box and filled with this Time Lord science.

It was hard to imagine that she was preparing a lesson for her primary students not even a full day ago. She abandoned her position as a teacher and left with a strange man in the janitorial closet. What would Andy think?

She moved towards the vanity, taking a seat with a finger between her teeth. A plume of dust rose and fell on her thighs.

What could it mean that months before she's supposed to be married, she runs away?

It doesn't mean anything.

But she ran away with a man.

An alien man.

But she can't put her life on hold to go explore a universe with an alien.

You can when he has a time machine.

(Y/N) smacked the voice in her head, aggravated that she was trying to justify. The bottom line was that she ran. Why was she so willing and eager to run?

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

"No," she said to herself. "This is a little vacation. I didn't run away – I was given an opportunity for a holiday and I took it."

Liar.

"I can leave whenever I want. I can jump to whatever time I want. And Andy wouldn't mind because nothing bad is going to happen here."

She waited for the voice to contradict her again, but all she heard was the beat of her watch. It put an eerie tone on the silence as she stood from the chair, wiping her hands against her dusty trousers.

She didn't even consider the fact that she was in some kind of peril. If she doesn't figure out why she's being hunted then going back to earth would be entirely pointless. She'd be in more danger stuck on earth than up in space with the Doctor.

Nodding to her reasoning, she made the journey back up the ladder, noticing how the grate panel had mysteriously vanished. The Doctor had his reading glasses on, consulting a manual in his hands, speaking without looking up, "Back already. You all right?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't exactly have a lot to settle in with."

He turned to her, smacking his lips, "Right. We'll get on that soon, but for now I want to look at something. Would you come here a moment?" He waved her over frantically as he reached for a screen against the center of the console. (Y/N) paced her steps up the ramp with quickening curiosity.

Pulling it out for a better viewpoint, he grasped (Y/N)'s shoulders and positioned her to the side, "Now the TARDIS has many uses, and one includes a scanner. Though it's not as advanced as some systems out there... she could tell us at least something." He struggled and managed to extract a wired tool from the console. It looked like a code scanner from the grocery store.

"You mean you're going to x-ray me?" (Y/N) asked, holding perfectly still as the Doctor brandished his new toy.

"Precisely." A red bar lit her as the Doctor waved the tool up and down her torso and head. From the intense look on his face, he was hoping for some enlightening results.

The monitor screen was angled just enough for (Y/N)'s viewing advantage. She watched as a figure outline appeared there, showing a green label titled 'SCANNING.' It waited a few moments while the Doctor continued to wave his code scanner around.

"You know the only x-rays I've gotten have come from my coma checkups and physical therapy."

"You haven't broken any bones or anything since the accident?"

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling to think, "No. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't go to the hospital any other time than for my coma checkups. I never get sick, I've had no need for flu shots, I haven't needed stitches or surgeries or penicillin."

The Doctor seemed only mildly interested in the fact, it simply meant their search was going to have less to go on. "You must have a healthy immune system, spare you from strep and stomach flus."

(Y/N) scrunched her shoulders slightly, "But I mean I haven't even needed allergy medication or have had the common cold. I just don't get sick. Isn't that a little weird?"

"I'm sure your nurse fiancé would've said something if it was overly concerning."

'SCAN COMPLETE,' the monitor read; though in smaller writing below, a red label declared, 'Human – No Abnormalities Detected.'

"Blasted thing," the Doctor muttered fiercely, dropping the scanner unceremoniously onto the console. "I had a hunch that wouldn't work. Took special technology to find you through your particle trail; I wasn't going to be surprised if it took something more to figure the source."

He had one hand on his hip and the other ruffling the back of his neck. (Y/N) almost laughed at the scrunched, concentrated look on his face.

"What were you hoping to find?"

He pursed his lips, squinting his eyes at nothing in particular, "Something that shouldn't be there – something not of earth origin. If it didn't tell me why the Reapers are after you, I would've at least like to have found out why you have a pulsating particle trail that can be seen from galaxies away."

(Y/N) intertwined her hands in front of her, sort of subconsciously swaying in a comforting way, "Then where can we go to find that out if not here?"

"Well..." he turned on his heel as if inspiration had just burst under his wings, "As there must be a biological factor, as it is about your particle trail, we'll need to find professionals in the field. Seeing as you have no apparent need for a human hospital, we can go somewhere that has the proper equipment and knowledge to decode your particles and genetics." He ran around the console, flipping switches and twisting knobs, and (Y/N) knew they were about to make another time jump.

"You know, you could just tell me the destination instead of describing your thought process to it."

The Doctor pressed a few buttons with a flaunty display, addressing her with a cheeky grin, "Where's the fun in that? I get to the point eventually." He grasped a lever and entered a few coordinates in an adjacent keypad, "We, Miss. (Y/L/N), are heading for New New York Hospital. Full of revolutionary technology.”

She braced herself on the nearby railing, "New New York Hospital? You sure you didn't misspeak?"

He grinned widely again, pulling down on the lever and setting the engines in motion, "We've been to the past – now it's time for the future."

The TARDIS lurched forward, teetering back and forth, sending (Y/N) soaring. She bounced between the railing and the console as the Doctor frolicked about his buttons and switches. She gripped the nearest thing to her for some sort of balance but was unprepared for the whiplash the TARDIS made in the opposite direction.

The Doctor was flung onto the dirty astronaut seats, legs splayed in the air. (Y/N) rubbed a knot in her stomach where a bar lodged itself during the sudden change in course, "What happened?"

"Dunno," the Doctor yelled over the whirs of the flying TARDIS. The ship made an exhausting sigh as it slowed, the rocking coming to a minimum, "Looks like she's changed her mind."

(Y/N) had to remind herself that the TARDIS was more of a sentient ship rather than a manmade machine, "You mean she's taking us somewhere else?"

"Must've sensed some trouble or caught a stray signal."

“That can’t be good.”

“On the contrary,” the Doctor mused, grinning ear to ear, “It could be a million different things – something new, exciting, dangerous, whatever. Isn’t that brilliant?”

She shook her head, but smiled nonetheless, “So the hospital can wait.”

“You agreed to travel the universe, and the universe you are going to get!”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua  @zerocanonlywriteshit

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

[kkusuka]

Have I told you I hate weak y/n’s that get pushed around by fangirls? No? Well, I hate them 😊

Let’s have Oikawa, Atsumu, Akaashi, Semi, and Terushima react to their normally calm gf, beat the dog shit out of a fangirl that tried to intimidate her for dating said men above. Reader just has a soft smile before cocking her fist back and boxing her shit before holding up the fangirl and looking to the rest like “You wanna end up like her? No? Then know your place~ ☺️”. Then she faces her bf with a sweet smile and says something affectionate like “I brought you lunch, dear. I made it just how you like it 😄” before kissing his cheek like she didn’t go Muhammad Ali on a bitch

<3

Oikawa Tooru<3

Oikawa’s had more than a few less than pleasant experiences with women

Considering he’s always been surrounded by them, from his sister's friends in middle school and being swarmed by them in High school and college- having women around him was nothing new

And for the most part, they were all pleasant

Giving him little gifts and food- that he always gave to you- and just telling him how much they loved watching him play

All things he can deal with before talking to his favorite girl, you

Though, there have been instances of some bold woman who just never get the hint

Whether it be drunkenness or some weird dream of having Oikawa to herself or just blatant disregard of his relationship

And right now just happens to be one of those times- but now you got a firsthand view of the madness.

Whoever this was clearly didn't understand relationships or personal space for that matter

She had a hand on his chest and was just blubbering about how she would be the best wife for him and would make life so much easier- much more than you do for him- and that was just what you saw from the ten seconds you were in earshot

He would normally laugh it offend continue seeking out autographs but he seemed to be locked in an iron maiden

“I promise! Forget about your girlfriend, she’s useless anyways!” and finally a perfect chance to make yourself known

“Tooru, I have your lun-” you attempted to grab him away, him shooting a pleading look to save him before your wrist was snatched from his arm and tugged away and shoved to the side then pushing your body away from the two

“Back off bitch!”

Now,  you were normally a pretty calm person, you knew how to deal with the women and you have been for years.

But you stand by the fact that it was never ok to put your hands on someone- no matter the situation.

But at that moment, you could care less about your silly reparations and breathing methods, that lady put a hand on you and pushed you

You could hear Tooru telling her to keep her hands off you but you just looked around and made sure that everyone saw what had happened, you don't need to be arrested anytime soon

Grabber her arm you detached her from your boyfriends and in the next second your fist was connecting with her face, watching her wither on the floor you turn to your boyfriend who’s now coming towards you

“As I was saying, I have your lunch.”

Atsumu Miya<3

Another guy who’s constantly surrounded by women

Although he is far less appreciative and nice to them, and he makes it a point to be abundantly clear that you are the only woman he will spend the rest of his life with

Something that wasn't too popular with a few specific fans

Every blue moon someone will find his phone number and blow it up with loving messages or try and get his address

The worst it’s been was someone finding his apartment number and thankfully being too far away to come by themselves but they did send some inappropriate images to his PO box and that led him to create an even thinker line between fans and himself

Thankful, the whole of them understood and respected his boundaries

Buuuuut there are always people who go the extra step

Like whoever this is crowding your boyfriend after a win against the Alders with a giant poster of him and a …. Thong

If you were the slightest more stoic you would have held in the laugh that started it all but it seems crazy is crazy no matter how you provoke them

That lady heard you laugh and the flood gates opened, in a split second her hand was on your cheek then she was on the floor holding what you could hope was a broken jaw

You didn't even realize you punched her until a shooting pain went up your wrist

Though before you had a chance to return to your lovely boyfriend, who was standing in the same spot shell shocked (and slightly turned on)  hand grabbed your ankle the flung you to the ground

It was, for lack of a better term, a catfight

She was hitting you and you were hitting her and she was screaming random shit about how awful you were to her precious Atsumu- seriously this lady was insane

Nevertheless, security arrived, and let’s just say that you were in much better condition than she was, who knew you could fight so well?

Though you weren't allowed to come to the next game and had to apologize to the heads of the Volleyball association, Tsumu was proud of you and the internet was on your side- so it was kind of a win-win

Akaashi Keiji<3

He surprisingly doesn't have a swarm of fangirls around him

But it’s much much worse, you’d rather have a mob of girls around him than the four specific psychos that never leave the poor guy alone

Everywhere in school at least one of them is watching the two of you, in class, at lunch- no matter where you try and eat- you swear you even saw one at the boba show you pass on your walk home with him

The worst part?

He thinks it’s funny.

It is hilarious to him that you try so hard to keep them away full knowing he would never leave you for the likes of them. It’s just too cute how you puff up your cheeks and huff about them and honestly, it's a breath of fresh air considering how much everyone kisses up to him

Well- he likes it when they are at a distance

On the off chance they get close to him, it's a different story. They truly are intolerable, and they away try bad-mouthing you to him like it was supposed to mean something that they don't like you

And they only ever do it when you’re away- cowards they truly are. And since they’re always watching, as soon as you left to buy the two of you lunch, one of them was on him in an instant

She was annoying and all she could say was ho you were a ‘poison’ in his life and he had to leave you as soon as possible

He didn't even realize you were there until a hand grabbed the back of her uniform and flung her off him. And from the looks of it, falling on the ground really hurt

“I’m a poison? That’s all you could come up with?”

You didn't even have to say another word, she was already out of sight

Not missing a beat, you handed him his lunch and started talking about the latest episode of the volleyball anime you loved.

Semi Eita<3

First off- a total power couple

Not only are you willing to beat a bitch, but he’s also ready to hype you up while you do it

It’s not confirmed you have, but there are rumors that you fought more than a few girls who were less than pleasant. And it’s not like you do anything for rumor control, you just laugh and turn the other way

Still, even with the rumor mill running rampant, some girls still try and shoot their shot

But this girl has to be the boldest woman on planet earth

Not only was she flirting with an openly taken man, but she was flirting with him as he held his arm around your waist. She even looked at you as she spoke to him, the audacity of people these days

“You like music? That’s crazy, I do too!” you wanted her to shut the fuck up as soon as possible.

What pissed you off more was that he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was letting it happen to spite you.

What happened after this you blame solely on the alcohol the party was providing and not on the fact you wanted to clock this girl the moment you saw her

It was just that suddenly your drink was in her face

Then her drink was in her face, and she was running to the bathroom, maybe she should listen to rumors more often because you don't think strawberry daiquiri will come out of a white crop too so easily

Terushima Yuji<3

He’s an ass

But he’s your ass, somehow

He’s a manwhore and an attention-whore, mix that should have been shot before it could grow into something more

By now you're used to the girls slipping him their numbers and hitting him up on every social media site possible and you remain happy to say he doesn't respond- probably too busy dicking you down to care about any of them

Plus, less than 1%  of them actually approach them in public, and they just happen to be the most insufferable people on the planet.

Desperation doesn't even describe it

Of that 1%, at least half of them try to touch him, running a hand on his arm, tugging at his clothes, maybe even a strand of his hair, all you can deal with because he knows what’ll happen if he even entertains their advances

But for some reason, the only thing that sets you off is when they mention the tongue piercing.

It invokes a rage unknown within you, the second the metal ball’s mentioned you see red. And he fucking loves it, you could be three prefectures over and the second the girl mentions it, you magically appear at his side like you’d been there the whole time

All of a sudden you’re all over him, disregarding this girls words as she tries to bring the conversation back to her, going as far as grabbing your shoulder, and since she touched you first- you had the green light

Your arm pulled back and your fist connected to her cheek

And like nothing ever happened you turned back to the blond

tags: @diamond-3 @rinsangel @heyheyitsne @angelalje @monisi @crystal-lilac @sadpotato10

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | ����𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag​ Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror. 

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.  

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.” 

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright. 

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.” 

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?” 

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.:  curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum. 

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!” 

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again. 

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow. 

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?” 

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.” 

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.  

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible. 

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.  

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!” 

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.  

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.” 

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away. 

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.  

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 6. high

Previous | Next

[warnings: SMUT (it's female receiving oral), weed]

"i think of you in colors that don't exist." — Watching Sal shift repeatedly in his seat and squirm uncomfortably the entire way home is almost comical. You watch him shorten the distance between his thighs and then spread them over and over again as he drives, smiling to yourself.

"Doing okay over there?" You ask, a giggly lilt to your voice as you sit still in your spot.

The feeling between your legs is still buzzing and the engine rumbling your seat beneath you is a bit.. overstimulating.. but you're decent.

"Hmm," he hums in response, squinting your way. "Stop baiting at me," he teases.

When you pull into the parking lot at Addison's Apartments, the both of you remain seated for a silent moment, after Sal pulls the keys from the ignition. The high from moments ago has dulled down, and you're left to soak in what exactly had happened.

Except you don't. You don't even think about what had happened—you barely meet Sal's eyes, nervously grin and reach for the passenger door handle. "Alright, see you tomorrow, let me know what your dad says, text me, goodnight!"

Before the blue-haired boy even has a chance, you've opened the car door, hopped out, and gently shut it behind you. You weren't looking for him to catch up to you, either—so you ran like mad into the apartment complex and took the stairwell instead of waiting for the junky elevator.

When you'd gotten home, you were light on your feet and tiptoed through the living room towards your bedroom. You'd took note of Sal's earlier tactic (taking his shoes off before he entered the apartment) and mirrored it.

When you'd finally gotten to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, comforter beneath your back, and stared up at the ceiling.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't even mentally conjure the words to describe what had just happened.

As you ran the earlier events through your subconscious, you remembered the feeling of his teeth and mouth on the flesh of your neck—and how he'd sucked on it until it hurt. You jumped from your bed, ran (lightly) to your bathroom, turned the light on, and peered into the mirror.

You pushed your hair from your neck—which was stuck to your skin from sweat—and gasped in horror at what you saw.

Sure, they weren't fully formed and hadn't reached their full potential, but those were hickeys. Blood red, slightly purple, forming hickeys. And, from what you remember.. you'd attacked his neck worse than he had to you.

The boy was practically translucently pale. You burned with shame at yourself because of the purgatory you'd subjected him to. He'd have to hide them for a week.

You closed your mouth after hanging your jaw open for 30 minutes and breathed out slowly. Despite the nightmare they'd be to hide.. it was almost nice to see on you. Something of him was left behind. At least you had something to remind you that what had played out tonight occurred and hadn't been a dream, or something.

You pressed your fingers on the marks and winced. They were sore.

After a shower—a cold, icy shower—you retreated into bed. You were so exhausted, you didn't dream.

What felt like moments later—you knew better to say it was, though, because there was early morning light shining through your blinds—you were jostled awake by a cold hand on your shoulder. You groaned, turning to the person and squinting.

"Mom?" You slurred tiredly, taking in Michelle's dim silhouette looming over you. You almost couldn't tell who she was at first before you'd rationalized that the only person who'd be shaking you awake in this ungodly hour would be your mother. Also, you could tell by the work uniform she wore. "Wha'?"

And although you were half-awake, your mind was rational enough to remind you to pull the covers up and conceal the bruises on your neck, which you knew had probably worsened.

"The school called," her words are like a bite. You expected this, but hearing her confrontation is sort of scary. "Not only did you receive detention yesterday, but you skipped it. You're lucky you weren't suspended—I had to lie and blame family emergency for your disappearance."

You didn't say anything, staring up at her and into her eyes.

"I can't believe you. You'll still be attending detention—they've rescheduled it for today. If you pull a stunt like this again, you'll pay the price, got it?"

You couldn't remember the last time she'd scolded you. It's not like you did much to warrant it. You never had someone before recently to play hooky with—or to cheat answers off of in class. You never had friends before.

"Okay," you reply, breaking away from her eyes and looking anywhere else. Eventually, her dark gaze rips from your face and she leaves the room.

You watch your bedroom door that she'd closed behind her—listen to the muffled shuffling and jangling of keys in the living room, and when she finally shuts the front door, you breathe out a sigh of relief and roll over onto your back.

And you smile. Because it's funny. Because she has no idea what you did with a boy last night.

You reach beneath the covers and fish for your flip phone (which you'd started sleeping on, a habit spawned from paranoia) and open it. You know it's early, but you slept before receiving any texts, so maybe...

There's nothing. He hadn't messaged you.

Eventually, you roll back over and give yourself another hour or two of sleep. It's too early to start getting ready.

When you woke up again, you got ready—threw on a black halter top, along with an a-lined, purpley-blue plaid skirt. Slid your feet into over-the-knee black socks and rolled them up your legs and to just below your thighs. Topped it off with a chunky black shoe.

After that, you spent a moderate amount of time on your hair and a little on your face.

You made it a point to wear flavored lip gloss. For no particular reason.

The hickeys were still a bit visible, so you topped off your outfit with an oversized denim jacket. You didn't think that much about it. Whether or not that was a mistake would be decided later. There wasn't much you could do—you didn't own all of the makeup necessary to cover them.

You meet with Sal in the lobby first. You approach him before he's noticed that you're even there—standing with his eyes on his feet, kicking the ground and toeing at nothing.

"Hi," you breathed, unsure of yourself.

His head raises. When he meets your eyes, the light fixture over you flickers. "I can see them," Sal says, stepping closer to you and inclining his head to examine your jawline and below.

The actual is a bit abrupt—you're momentarily started. That is until you've processed what he'd said.

"Yeah," you agree, shrugging. He looks back up at your eyes, his gaze widening. "I can't do anything about it."

He laces a hand through his hair and genuinely looks panicked. That's when you decide to examine him—and his neck.

"Holy shit, Sal," you breathe, a laugh of pure disbelief slipping off of your tongue. "You look like someone choked you."

Sal groans. "Yeah, pretty sure you used teeth."

"What're you going to do about that?" You choose to disregard his prior statement.

"I have an easy way out. I'll claim Travis did it yesterday. Super suspicious because I wasn't bruised this way at the time.. but-"

You meet his eyes with a deadpanned expression. Internally, though—it's almost humorous.. the fact that neither of you are even questioning what you'd done together. But you knew that would bite you in the ass. You'd only done what you'd done once—maybe it shouldn't happen again.

"I don't know, Sal." You press your lips together, smooth the gloss around. You taste artificial cherry flavoring on your tongue. "They look like hickeys."

"No one is going to believe I've been given hickeys, Y/N."

"They'll believe it whenever they see we've got a matching set!" You exclaim, meeting his gaze warily. You struggle a bit. Before, it felt so easy to make eye contact with him—but now you could barely lock eyes without looking away.

"Matching set?"

You jerk, breaking your staring contest with the floor and sliding your eyes upward. Larry was a few feet away, speedily approaching as his long legs closed the distance. Quickly, you split your hair in the back—separating it into two sections and placing one on either side of your face.

You watched Sal mess with his in the corner of your eye.

Nervousness made your heart drop what felt like ten stories when Sal spoke in reply. "Hey, Larry," he says. "Is Ashley driving again?"

"Uh, yeah," He replied, running lanky fingers through his lengthy brown hair. "'Was thinking we could all do something after school."

You hold your breath.

"Oh," Sal takes a moment to swallow thickly. "Y/N and I are doing detention—so we can't."

Larry's dark brows draw downward, casting a shadow over his deep eyes. He glances over at you, examines your face, and then locks eyes with Sal like he had been moments before. "Again? Didn't you guys do that yesterday?"

You decide to give your response this time. "Must've been a misunderstanding. We did go to it yesterday—we just, um.. have to do it again. Today."

Before he can further question the situation, you all hear the beeping of a car horn outside of the complex. It sounds familiar—it's Ashley's car. You all step outside.

Looking at the pale silver Ford Fiesta leaves you with mixed feelings. It's nice to look at—but now it just reminds you of the fact Larry tried to get into an altercation with Sal inside of it.

This time, Todd is in the back seat by himself. It's almost comical. You raise an eyebrow and look towards Ashley in the driver's seat. She rolls her window down and acknowledges you with striking green eyes.

"Shotgun?"

You almost feel bad for leaving Sal in the backseat, knowing he's probably on edge with those marks on his neck. But you can't help yourself as you run around to the other side of the vehicle and climb into the passenger seat beside Ashley.

"It smells great in here, Ash. I forgot to tell you that last time," you smile as you breathe in the familiar strawberry scent.

"Thank you!" She grins. "Yeah, I really like these car fresheners."

The guys get into the back seat—Sal's in the middle, having climbed in first, to Todd's left, and Larry entering last.

Once the doors are shut and all hands and feet are inside of the car, Ashley shifts gears and gets going. She looks to you, then throws a look over her shoulder toward Sal. "How was detention, troublemakers?"

Your eyebrows furrow, about of stupidity washing over you. Even having discussed this with Larry and Sal only moments ago, you've completely forgotten that they thought you'd attended detention.

"Huh-"

"It was great," Sal cuts in. "We sat for hours and did nothing. A lot of fun."

You come to realization quickly, and look up to meet Sal's eyes in the rearview mirror. He's shaking his head in lighthearted disappointment—a glint of amusement in his blue gaze.

"Yeah," your laugh trails off. "Sal couldn't sit still. It was funny."

You smirk deviously. That was an obvious reference to last night, on the way back to the apartments.

He meets your eyes once again in the mirror in front of you. "Don't bait at me," he warns, but you hear his grin. That's what he'd said when you'd laughed at him last night.

You smirked, shifting in your seat. You smelled cigarette smoke and guessed Larry was smoking again. It doesn't smell regular, though—smells a bit grassy.

"You're fogging up the car, Larry! It'll be your fault if we crash!" Ashley confirms your suspicions as she yells over the sound of rushing wind. He's rolled down the window—it fails to eliminate the smell but clears your line of sight.

"Sorry," he grins around a cigarette. It was nice to see him in a better mood.

"Have any of you decided on the plans for after school?" Todd speaks up for the first time day, absentmindedly fiddling with his flip phone. It's not any of your business, but you wonder who he's texting. Every time you see him, he's playing with his phone.

Larry laughs, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. "No. Thought Sal or Y/N would have some ideas, but they can't even go. They've got detention again."

Ashley looks toward you, awaiting your confirmation.

"We always had detention again. It was a miscommunication.." you trailed off, telling a lie. They didn't know that, though.

You watch Sal fiddle with his rings in the rearview mirror. "It's my fault, really."

You're not sure exactly what he means. He could be talking about the reason you'd even been given detention (attempting to share quiz answers) or maybe he was talking about the fact you'd even ditched detention—because he'd proposed it.

You disliked how easy he was to blame himself. You'd agreed to it.

And it wasn't something you found yourself regretting—not only had you received the pleasure of grinding Sal into oblivion in the driver's seat, but you'd came while you were at it.

Something you did regret, though... was doing that while you were so unsure of yourself—and what exactly it was that he wanted from you.

Not only that, but what did you want from him?

What was this?

"No, not really," you replied, after momentarily zoning out. "I agreed to it—to you... um- giving me those answers, Sal."

You hear his rings clack, keeping your eyes on the road, and on the broken white lines in the middle of the asphalt that pass beneath the car. You assume he's pressed his hands together harshly. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't proposed it."

This conversation wasn't really about test answers, was it?

You hear the crackle of a cigarette. No one else seems to assume anything about the conversation—just two people who refuse to blame the other person.

"The only thing I care about is the fact that you have to deal with the repercussions, Sal. I wouldn't care if it was just me having to do detention."

That shuts him up. He doesn't say anything after that.

"It's okay." You say, one last time.

After that (thank god) Ashley reaches towards the radio and turns to a channel. Heavy metal plays through the speakers—not too loud, though—and although it's a bit unsettling considering your mood, the distraction is welcome.

As soon as you've stepped out of the car in the school's parking lot, you regret the fact you hadn't worn a heavier jacket. The denim jacket is oversized, yes—but it's lightweight and breathable and you can feel the autumn wind fluttering against your skin.

Goosebumps rise on your arms. You involuntarily shiver.

You, Todd, Larry, Sal, and Ashley begin the walk inside of the school. You still smell smoke, and a glance to your left confirms that Larry is still smoking that cigarette.

"A teacher will see," you warn lightly.

"Eh, it'll be alright." He looks at you inquisitively and raises it toward you. When you meet his eyes, they're bloodshot. Your lips part in surprise.

"Are you... high?" Your gaze flickers to the cigarette again. Turns out, it's a joint. Larry is smoking weed. Figures.

He doesn't answer the question. It's not like he has to. Instead, he raises it toward you again, quirking an eyebrow questioningly.

You swallow the thick saliva that had begun to pool in your mouth and look toward the rest of the gang as they continue on.

"Why are you looking over there?" Larry calls you back from your reverie. You look up to meet his blown pupils again. "You don't need anyone's permission. If you want to smoke it, smoke it."

You bit your lip, raising a hand. Your digits twitched as you reached to pluck it from him. As you took the blunt away from his grip, and your fingers brushed, his eyebrows twitched upward.

Nervously, you inhale like you'd done with the cigarette. You don't feel it enter your lungs until you've ripped it away from your lips. You don't want this to go like the first time you'd ever smoked, so you hold it in. Those few moments feel like forever—but eventually, you cough, and allow yourself that relief.

You don't feel high, per se. You've only just smoked it, but it was a big draw, and you're already feeling the effects of lightheadedness.

Your head spins as you absentmindedly drag from it again. You don't realize how long you've been inhaling until lanky fingers have grabbed the blunt from you and pulled it away.

You blink slowly, looking up to Larry in confusion.

"Holy shit," his red eyes widen, before laughing comically. You find yourself giggling as well, experiencing a high that wasn't from weed—but from the rush of trying something forbidden and new.

"You're going to be so fucking high," he laughs again, passing a hand through his hair and looking down to the blunt. "It's... gone."

You can't even remember how long you'd been smoking that shit. How long had you been walking? How far back had Ashley parked?

Conveniently, as he examines the used-up joint, you pass by a green trash bin. He opens the lid and throws the useless blunt inside of it.

A few moments pass as you step onto the concrete leading up to the school. You vaguely feel Larry's large hand gripping your shoulder to steady you. Even though you felt a bit woozy, you remember to keep your hair in place, covering the hickeys Sal had left on your skin.

When you've stepped into the halls, the amount of people walking all around and bumping into you feels a bit overstimulating.

You hoist your bag tighter over your shoulder and follow after your friends. You feel Larry's arm bump into yours every so often, reminding you of his presence.

When you reach your locker, you put your books away, arranging them accordingly, etc. Once you've shut the locker door, hard enough for the cage to rattle—you sort of.. just- stand there. It feels like your consciousness is somewhere completely different, and yet all of this noise feels like too much.

Your heart is beating way too fast and it hurt to stand up straight.

It didn't feel bad—but you'd certainly rather snort salt and pepper than have to function an entire school day like this. You felt way too floaty, like everything was swaying—you honestly couldn't deter up from down.

You don't know where the rest of the gang is, and you're too high to care. You wander down the hall, and continue like that, even when the bell rings and everyone steadily begins to file off and into their respective classes.

Desperate to be alone, and sitting down somewhere, you find a door. It looks like the door handle is growing dust, and there are no signs or labeling on the wood. So you turn the handle and try your luck.

Of course, it's locked. Why else would a school keep an unused room unlocked?

You dig into the denim compartments of your large denim jacket, blinking away the blear in your eyes as you search between the seams at the pit of your pockets. Eventually, you find a stray bobby-pin. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you stick it into the keyhole and wiggle and force it accordingly.

There were multiple reasons you knew how to do this. Your mother used to accidentally lock you out of your previous flats. It wasn't a hobby you'd picked up—it was something you were required to learn. At least, so you wouldn't have to sleep in the hallway at night.

The door eventually gives. When you've entered, you find yourself in a storage room. It makes sense. All of the junk was stored here.

Still high as shit, and becoming a bit nauseous, you close the door behind you. That shuts out any light, and you feel a chill roll over your skin. You couldn't see shit.

You make haste as you reach into your pocket again and rip your flip phone out. You pop it open, and soon enough, your eyebrows raise in surprise. The messages are a bit unclear, but they're visible once you focus.

Sal :) Missed Call (2)

Sal :) where r you?

Sal :) i'm looking for you. class is about to start

Sal :) larry's gone too. you're with him?

Before you type out a reply, you use the phone's light to search the room for a light source of some kind. Eventually, you find a shaded lamp. You feel around for a cord, and once you've found it, you pull a bit. Thankfully, it's already plugged in.. somewhere.

You return your fingers to the lamp itself and turn it on. Soft yellow light fills the dusty room, and you sigh in relief.

You try to disregard the floating dust particles, and sink to the ground, pressing your back against a wide, wooden desk. As you adjust on the floor, the cold tile momentarily presses against your bare thighs. You breathe in sharply, allowing yourself a moment before going to reply to Sal.

You are you in class?

Sal :) No

Sal :) where are you?

You i'm not with Larry. m alone. DK where he is

Sal :) sure he's skipped to smoke. where are you

You allowed yourself to look around the dimly lit room before replying. You swore you felt the dust sticking to your skin, and the skirt hugging your lower half felt too tight.

You shakily breathed in, and then breathed out. You repeated this process, shaky fingers gripping the phone tightly.

You bobby-pinned my way into some storage room i'm sitting on the floor so high rn lol

Sal :) i know where that is. coming rn . it's at the end of a hall, right?

Sal :) what did you smoke?

You blinked slowly, wiggling your thighs back and forth.

You you're correct.

You smoked weed

Before you could comprehend what was even happening, the door directly in front of you had opened. You blinked as white light constricted your pupils before they returned to their expanded state as the silhouette closed the door. While he did that, you reached up to the desk, slid a drawer open, and placed your phone inside of it.

You could've just put it in your pocket. You didn't know why you didn't.

He sunk to the floor in front of you, sitting criss-cross applesauce. His shoes were a breath from yours as you hugged your bare knees tightly. Your lazy eyes followed his movements as he clasped his hands around his ankles. He seemed to be watching your eyes—because when you looked up to make eye contact, he'd already been looking.

"Can barely tell what your eye color is," Sal says nervously. "Your pupils are blown."

"Is' just the dark," you chide softly. "I'm fine. My heart's just beating really fast."

"How much did you smoke?" He asks, his blue eyes—ever vibrant, even in this dingy lighting—searching your face. "Larry gave it to you, right? Jesus.."

You genuinely think about it. It seems you think about it too hard because the room began to rotate.

Maybe that wasn't just the high. You'd fallen onto your side. Luckily, you'd been sitting already—so it was a gentle collide with the cold tile. It felt nice against your cheek. You closed your eyes and watched the floating colors and shapes that look like nerves flash across the backs of your eyelids.

You fully press your side against the floor snuggling into it like it's the softest blanket you've ever slept with.

"Hot," you breathe. "Get this jacket off."

Soon enough, you feel purposeful hands sliding the denim off of your arms. It takes effort to get it off of the arm beneath you, but Sal manages. He balls the jacket up and slides it beneath your head. When your cheek meets the cool denim, you feel at total peace.

"Better," you open your eyes. He's watching your face. You can tell he's concerned, but there's something in his gaze—a look that tells you that he knows he's got this handled. He was confident in himself to take care of you.

He's probably experienced this before.

You roll onto your back, holding your eyes open to look up at the ceiling. Your eyelashes ghost your eyebrows as your imagination forms clouds in the shapes of the floating things you see.

Your skirt rides up your thighs a bit. You don't pay attention to it until you feel Sal's ring-clad fingers gently fixing it for you. You look at his face and smile.

"We need to do it again," you mumble. You don't feel the sickness of the high anymore—only complete clarity.

"Do what?" He asks, curiosity lilting his words.

"What we did in the car."

After those words roll off of your tongue, all that meets you is the intaking of breath. It's so quiet in this storage room that you can hear him licking his lips. You hear shuffling, the clacking of rings, and your breath—and for a moment, you believe he won't say anything back to you.

"I," he starts, swallowing hard. "You.. when do you.."

"How about now?"

You grin, meeting his eyes. He blinks a few times.

"Y/N, I-" he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh. You don't know if he feels nervous—or he just genuinely cannot believe this is happening. You wouldn't blame him, because you can't process it, either.

It's the weed boosting your confidence like this.

Then and again, you'd been confident with him during your first sexual encounter. Maybe the high just amplified that.

"As much as I'd like to," he starts, voice tight, "I don't know how well walking around the rest of the day having... uh— would go. I know it'll happen. We've got detention to sit in, too."

You pouted sadly but accepted it. He didn't want to, and that was fine.

"But, I, um.." his eyes flickered across your face. "I could go down on you."

The words surprised you so much you jerked upward and into an upright position. Your shock had also made you a dumbass, it seemed, as well—because you smacked your head straight into the wooden drawer you'd left open, which you'd put your phone in not even a few minutes ago.

"Ow," you winced, hand reaching up to rub the sore spot.

"Holy shit," Sal says, now closer to you. He closed the drawer (something you should have done way earlier) and blinked down at you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "You'd.."

His eyes shifted to the left momentarily. "Yeah. If you don't want me to, that's fine. Your decision. I mean, I have no experience, besides things I've heard before."

You felt a bit giggly all of sudden. Your forehead was pulsing but it was fine. "I can always teach you. I mean, I've never had someone go down on me but I know what feels good."

Sal's demeanor seems a bit nervous as he glances around the storage room. "You want this to happen in here?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, holding your upper body weight on your elbows and arms. "Yes."

He chuckles along with you. "Alright."

Once again, you thank whatever intuition it is you have for swaying you into choosing to wear a skirt again today. You feel Sal's eyes burning holes into your skin as you grip the hem of your skirt and pull the material of your skirt higher on your thighs until it's bunched up at your hips.

His eyes—which, moments ago, were so blue and clear—had now grown a bit darker and looked as though a shadow had been cast over their pretty sheen.

"Did you lock the door when you came in?" You breathed, the ache between your thighs painful as he stares you down.

"I don't think it locks from the inside. We'll have to make it quick."

You're heart's never beat this fast before. And it keeps crashing against your ribs when he slides his fingers up your legs. He pulls your knees away from each other, and shifts so he's a bit farther between your legs.

You watch him slide every silver ring off of his digits, collecting them in a palm and sliding them onto the wooden surface of the desk beside him.

Your blood pumps in your ears so loud you feel like your brain is going to explode. That is, until you feel the pressure of the pads of his fingers right between your thighs, over the fabric that separated his fingertips from the burning heat there. Every other sense diminishes as your entire body focuses on what you'd just felt.

You instinctively gasped, never having been touched so intimately before.

You can tell he's shocked, barely having to glance at his face. You know he's nervous, but you don't believe he has reason to be.

"You're.."

"Wet?" You finish the sentence for him shyly, feeling completely dirty about insinuating something like that out loud. "The fabric is thin, but.."

"I haven't even done anything," he murmurs.

"Yes, you have," you reply, giggling quietly through your chest. "You're torturing me. Get on with it."

His hands shake as he reaches his hands behind his head and unclasps the buckles that hold the prosthetic onto his face. Before you can even take him in, he's turned the lamp above you off.

It's completely dark in the room.

"Can I.."

You know what he means when his hands brush the sides of your thighs. "Yes," you reply, instantly.

Sal hesitates. "Are you sure?"

You smile to yourself. "I am. Are you?"

"Absolutely," he mumbles, hooking his thumbs around the lace of your underwear and pulling it down your legs. You can't hear your heart anymore, thank god—you can only feel it. It beats unmercifully against your ribs as he daintily finishes sliding the fabric off of your body.

Sal barely moves after that. You guess he's put your panties in his pocket.

Before you know it, he's flattened the tip of his middle finger on the place between your legs. You shakily sigh as he barely dips a finger into the place your dampness had collected. He then slides his digit upward, spreading the wetness up and through your slit.

You know what he's doing—preparing you for what's to come—but you can't help it when his touch ghosts your clit. It takes a lot of self-control not to clamp your thighs around his hand—so you hold yourself back with a whine.

Sal stops when you make the sound, but his touch remains. "There?" He asks lowly—like now you're more at risk at being caught. There's no way, though. When you'd picked the lock, the doorknob seemed like it hadn't been used in forever.

"Yes," you whisper, barely lifting your hips to press into his hand. He uses more fingers this time—passing them through your wetness again. Eventually, he makes it back to that bundle of nerves, and gently circles it. You feel your gut tumble as he presses on it just eight.

"God, please," you sigh, settling on your back and raising a hand to grip at your hair. "Sal, I want-"

"Okay," he murmurs. You hear shuffling, feel him move. You know he's lower when his hair tickles the flesh between your thighs.

His breath fans over the apex of your thighs. You'd expect breath of this proximity to be hot—but it's cold and feels minty. It makes sense. That's how he smells—and whenever you'd kissed him last night, that's how he'd tasted.

What broke you from your musing was the feeling of his warm tongue flat on your sex. You throw your head back, dropping your jaw. You'd been waiting this whole time for that feeling—and now you'd gotten it.

Your skull feels like it's rattling (you had just thrown your head back and into the hard flooring) but you disregard that and focus on everything else.

"F-fuck," you stutter, as he rolls his tongue up and over your clit. You knew his memory was basically photographic—but you didn't realize he'd be able to find that spot every time.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a way he hadn't been like he was experimenting. And it worked because you'd cried out and reached between your thighs to grip his blue hair.

He pulls away from your sex, exhales cool air onto the junction of your thighs and pants. "Gonna need to be quiet," he reminds you, his voice thick.

"I'm sorry," you swallow, before feeling him duck back down.

You shiver in anticipation as his mouth closes over the slope of your inner thigh, sucking onto your skin. You whine as he nibbles your flesh, barely closing his teeth over it before pulling away and returning to what he'd left.

Your spine arches off of the painfully hard floor as he closes his lips over your cunt again, flattening his tongue again and rolls it upward and back into his mouth.

It's not like he has a technique—he's just reacting to your reactions.

Your eyes are watery and fill with tears as you close them too tightly. Your fingers interlace with his hair, gripping close to his scalp and pulling just a bit. He hums in acknowledgment against your clit, and you feel that coil that had been steadily tightening in your gut began to tighten excruciatingly.

"Close," you breathe. "Please. Gonna cum."

Surely enough, he smiles into you, passes his tongue through your slit one last time before flicking it over your clit, and with purpose. He feels your legs spasm against his shoulders, so he flattens his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

That's when that coil in the deepest pit of your stomach unraveled.

"I'm coming," you whined. The feeling stuttered, you felt like you were teetering off of a cliff before it finally crashed over your body and through you harder than anything you've ever felt before.

He rode you through your orgasm—and it was hard not to clamp your thighs around his head.

"Fuck," your legs twitched as you came down, sighing as he pulled away from your sex. He panted, taking in the air quickly, before reaching up and turning the lamp on.

You met his eyes, pressing your thighs together as they shook.

"Oh my god," you exhaled, allowing yourself to soak in your shock. You watched him lick his lips before passing the back of his hand over them.

Sal seemed a bit lost for words himself. "Was that- um.."

You sat up—hiking your skirt back down with one hand while catching him by the nape of the neck with the other. You captured his mouth with yours, kissing him with fervor and want and appreciation. It took less than a second for him to reciprocate.

You didn't care if you could taste yourself on his tongue—it didn't matter much. It wasn't even bad, thank god.

After passing your tongue over his lip, you pulled away, eyes wide with shock. "I should.."

"I know what you're going to say," he cut you off, reaching into his back pocket with a smile. He hands you his underwear, and you close it in your fist. "And I'm alright. We've spent way too much time in here, anyway."

Your knee accidentally nudges between his thighs. Of course, he's hard. He was a teenage boy and he'd just made a girl come in a dingy old classroom at school during class. You felt bad.

"Another time." It's not a question. You're promising it to him.

"I.. okay." He murmurs, nervous in a way he hadn't been when he'd been eating you out moments before.

You watch him slide his rings back on, buckle his prosthetic back onto his face—and pretend not to notice how he adjusts himself as he stands up. You slide your denim jacket back on, slide your panties up your legs, and move to stand. You nearly fall back down when your legs spasm.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern dripping off of his low voice.

"Fine. A little shaky," you breathe, gripping his arms and rising to your feet. You let go of him a few beats later and move toward the door. You forget your phone, but Sal grabs it for you and slides it into your pocket.

And as the both of you go to leave, you think about how the rest of the day will play out.