#ignore the tilted tardis

[rebelsafoot]

hey man love your girlfriend, shes mine as well now btw

[dearcarmine]

orders

: ̗̀➛ pairing; simon "ghost" riley + female!reader

: ̗̀➛ tags; smut { authority kink, power play, bit of cum play, male receiving oral }, ngl mischaracterization….deal with it.

: ̗̀➛ summary; you enjoy ghost's authoritative behavior and he notices how turned on you get from it..he pays you a visit and gives you what you’ve needed.

: ̗̀➛ a/n; 1.7k yayy request from @earth2lua <3 i love you and thank you, pookums. tried my best, i hope you enjoy it. wake up to this shawty <3 erm not proof read.

archive of our own version

you felt his eyes roam you as you pulled your cargos to your thighs and tightened your waist belt. soap looked up at you as he tied his shoes and flashed a gentle smile, "ya missed a bit here," he teases and points his fingers to your exposed skin. the pants felt a bit tight and you couldn't help but notice glances, especially the ones ghost gave you. he crossed his arms and waited by the door for the rest to get finished dressing, "hurry up!" he shouted sternly. the movement of your boots sliding on slowed and you shut your eyes, "mhm," you mumbled lowly. the way he ordered the room felt like he was only talking to you. the rasp in his voice and the raised attitude of his demeanor. "i'm sorry?" he asked, stepping forward. soap backed up a bit and left ghost to tower over you.

"sir?" you spoke softly. a few of the other soldiers looked and smirked as ghost tilted his head, "did you say something?" your mouth fell silent with the occasional click from your lips separating, but with no words to muster. "i asked you a question," he cursed. you shook your head, "no, sir." he took a step back, "right." something inside of you built up at his attitude; the way he bossed you and the way you took it. ghost knows he could've pulled you to the side, but he didn't, instead telling you off in front of everyone. your eyes looked over at soap, who was holding back a small laugh. he sat on a small bench with a stupid grin on this face. for the past few weeks, you've been told off a few times a day by ghost for smaller things like tardiness or inefficiency when training. your skills have improved from this, but you'd go to bed every night just thinking of what else he could do. the thought of him roughly handling you and giving you orders in your own bed. shaking off the thought, you tied your shoes and stood next to mactavish.

it happened again the next day of gym training. your hands gripped the textured bar above you, pulling your body weight up and grunting lowly. everyone had partnered up themselves and soap locked eyes with gaz before you could even say much. ghost was near and didn't seem to mind. it felt embarrassing to have the superior partnered with you. soap eyed you from across the gym and chuckled with gaz as he stood behind him and spotted the mohawked man bench pressing. they conversed quietly and looked as if they got along much more than usual.

“eyes on me,” ghost demanded of you, causing your eyes to fall on him immediately. your arms pulled your body up with ease and you ignored the slightest shake from your distraction. your pants slid slightly down in the front from your belt being only a loop loose. you were rushing, it wasn’t uncommon. he looked down from your stomach to the uncovered cloth beneath your pants, a small of pink with laced lining. it caught his attention most, but he did the courteous thing and helped you out. "may i?" he spoke, motioning his hands to your waist. without releasing your grip on the bars, you nodded and moved your hips slightly forward, "yeah, thank you..sir." he didn’t think much of it and shook off the fact that his fingers brushed your panties..unprofessionally.

your shirt lifted as you continued the pull-ups, grunting a bit more intense with each one. you set your eyes on something else to distract you from your muscles being on fire; it didn’t take you long to notice ghost’s pants, hugging onto his bulge in a way you couldn’t ignore. “don’t slow down, soldier.” his voice was still as cold and demanding as it was before. you trembled even more at his dominance, crossing your legs to balance more without showing your apparent shaking. your jaw clenched as your thighs rubbed together, gaining the smallest of friction with you superior in front of you.

"you're done," he stated. it wasn't a suggestion. you dropped from the bar and wiped your sweat with the cool wet towel that he held out. "get yourself together. shower and head to dorms.."

your towel wrapped around your body comfortably as you stepped out the shower and towards your folded stack of clothes. luckily, pajamas weren't minded if brought from home and they didn't break code; you wore comfy black shorts and a dark grey tank top.

it didn't take silence to hear the harsh knocking at your door. you moved your way over and opened it, standing straight and tall, keeping your standard poker face. "at ease," the smooth brit spoke. you looked down with a chuckle then back up at him, "leisure visit, yea?" a small smirk appeared across your lips and you left from the door, allowing him to follow.

the two of you ended up in your living room, where you had set magazines–not the fashion logs–on the coffee table and a mug of your preferred drink.

“your reports..satisfactory,” he began. “so this is about attendance? i haven’t apologized, but i have sent in excuses.” 

his hand tapped carefully on his thigh, keeping his hands close. part of it was to keep them off of you and occupy him. “it’s not attendance. you can take orders, right?” he asks, breaking from his slight awkwardness. it wasn’t unusual to show at your place, many people came by. to borrow things, talk to you, just about anything. it was just about him being here; he didn’t go anywhere except for his job.

“i mean, it’s apart of my job. do you think i haven’t been well at it?” a sliver of you was teasing, but the other part was worried you’d done something wrong. “stand straight,” he murmured. “what?”

he gave you a look and you did as he said. fingers crossed trailing towards your waist, his breath hitched at the proximity. “you walk around knowing you want it. wearing these with a loose ass belt,” he calls you out with his thumb lowering the top band of your shorts, revealing another pair of lacy panties he didn’t dare to look down at. he kept his eyes on you, yours gazing down at his hands. “gonna agree, soldier?”

you slowly nodded and moved your sight onto him, “please,” you whispered.

“get on your knees,” he ordered. you let the pressure of standing go as you lowered to the eye level of his thighs, looking up needily at his mask. 

“hands behind your back.”

obliging, your fingers crossed together at your lower back and your head moved forward. his dominant hand inched toward your head, slowly and gently fisting your hair and giving it a slight tug. “do you like being ordered around? knowing there’ll always be someone tellin’ you what you need?”

you nodded and thought back to all the times you’ve thought about this. one main factor with being with ghost; his bossy attitude. you thought about what he couldn’t control and what you wanted him to control.

with his large hands adjusting your makeshift ponytail, he yanked to grab you attention, “open.”

your lips parted slowly and your hands guided up his pants, reaching his thick belt with ease. “please,” you begged quietly.

waiting for another order, you continued with your hands, taking off his belt. as his pants lowered to his thighs, your tongue ran along his tip, earning a small groan from the soldier. his thumb moved under your chin, pushing against your jaw and forcing your tongue out.

ghost wet your lips with his tip and added to your slick tongue as he guided his cock into your mouth, "do you need another order or does my girl know what to do?” you shook your head and tapped the side of his hip. “use your mouth, baby, and don’t stop until i tell you to.” your knees bruised at how hard you planted yourself to make him feel good; all you could think about was his pleasure.

your tongue traced his cock and stopped at the tip, leaving small kisses downward. “quit being a tease,” he hissed, grabbing hold of your face and marking your face with his gaze. “‘m already sensitive as is, don’t make it any worse,” he said, roughly letting your jaw go. your nose neared his v-line as he hit the back of your throat, moving back and forth with the help of his hand holding your hair. “right there,” he mumbled, holding the nape of your neck greedily. 

“you suck off of all your superiors, hm? gonna give price a go once i tell him how good your mouth feels?” you shut your eyes and groaned against his cock, making him move faster through your lips. he stared down and marbled at the gloss over your bottom lip. ghost’s grip tightened on your hair, earning tears from your eyes and soft cries from your stuffed mouth.

when he got close, he grew rougher, moaning your name and grunting as you swirled your tongue messily. with final grunts, ghost jerked forward, hitting the back of your throat, and pulling out to release on your lips. “you look better like this, soldier,” he managed to mutter out. his next command was simple and despite having a low voice, you heard him clearly. “swallow.”

you obeyed and watch his dark eyes as you held onto his thighs and swallowed his cum.

“now, get on the bed, beautiful,” he demanded. after tasting him, you felt more than obligated to give him what you’ve both been wanting.

you stood carefully and held onto his large arms, digging your nails into the muscle to see how much he couldn’t feel. your hands reached to his masked face, moving the cover up to reveal his lips.

yours pressed into his as his hands lowered to your ass, squeezing gratefully and lowering to the back of your thighs. you pulled away briefly, “taste good?”

“get on the damn bed.”

[heich0e]

"You're taking fucking forever in there."

You ignore Levi's irritated comment as you fiddle with the buckles on your shoes, too tiny to clasp easily and at a part of your ankle that requires your legs to be both tilted and bent to access them. A lethal combination in opposition to your dexterity.

"Are you sewing that dress by hand or what?"

His voice is nearer to your bedroom door now, a little bit more difficult to tune out with only the thin wood between you.

"No, my little mice helpers are doing that for me while I sing to them," you call back, but your words are light and flippant where his were heavy with the weight of his impatience.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you did have your own army of vermin with the amount of junk you've got in this apartment." You can't see Levi's face but you know he's looking around your living room with his nose crinkled in the particular way he does when he finds something distasteful.

You scoff as you finally succeed in doing up your second buckle. You lift your head so you can snap your rebuttal directly towards your closed door.

"Sorry we can't all live like minimalist monks!"

Levi snorts in reply. "I'm hardly a minimalist, I just don't accumulate needless things."

"You only own one bowl, one plate, and one mug."

You've known Levi since college, and you're fairly certain he has the same amount of possessions filling the entirety of his one-bedroom apartment that he did in his one-room dorm a decade prior. Probably the same ones, too.

"That way no one ever tries to come over for meals, it's clever."

"It's spartan."

There's a light thump on the other side of your door, and you wonder what it may have been.

"Didn't you ever read those Marie Kondo books?" Levi's voice is impossibly close now, like he's got his forehead pressed to your door. The thump makes a little more sense.

You laugh a bit to yourself as you imagine the way he's slumped against the expanse of wood, long-dressed in his suit and ready to go where you've taken your time getting ready. It's not your fault Levi showed up thirty minutes earlier than he said he would to pick you up for the company party your shared workplace was throwing that evening--though you should have expected it, given he's never been tardy to anything in the entire time the two of you had been friends.

"Can't say I did," you reply as you cross your bedroom, leaning over in your mirror to get one last close-up look at your face. You run your thumbnail against the edge of your bottom lip where your gloss was slightly ill-applied. "Why do you ask?"

"S'all that," Levi sighs, "'spark joy' bullshit. Don't keep things in your space if they don't make you happy or whatever."

You smile at your own reflection, eyes flickering to the image of your bedroom door you can see in the glass.

"And what if all my 'junk' makes me happy?"

There's some shuffling, and a moment later Levi mutters: "How can an issue of a magazine from 2010 make you happy?"

You suspect he's plucked an old copy of some fashion magazine off the stack resting on the bookshelf beside your door. You've actually been meaning to throw those away for a while, but you don't tell him that.

"How can you manage to not find happiness in anything?"

"That's not true," he argues.

"Oh yeah?" you counter, adjusting the way your necklace is resting against your collarbones. "Name something that you keep around just because it makes you happy."

"My kettle."

"Nope," you answer immediately, grabbing your purse off the end of your bed and heading towards the door, "that serves a practical, utilitarian purpose. I mean something useless that you just like. Just something you think is pretty."

You grasp the handle and pull it open, and you take Levi by surprise--he barely catches himself with a hand on either side of the door frame to keep from crashing into you.

There's a little pink mark at the centre of his brow where he'd been leaning against the door, and his eyes are wide.

"You ready to go?" you ask him, tucking your bag under your arm.

He's frozen, his expression still a little taken aback.

"What?" you ask him, suddenly self conscious. Your hands tug at the material of your dress nervously. "Should I change?"

"No," he says, soft but sure. "You look... fine."

Your face pinches.

"Fine?"

"Nice," Levi corrects himself, finally looking away. He fiddles with the stack of magazines he'd been complaining about moments prior. "You look nice."

"Wow, Ackerman, with compliments like that it's shocking that you have to take your best friend as your date to the company party and not one of the countless women I'm sure are knocking at your door."

Levi narrows his eyes, tossing you a withering look.

"You're the one who said we should go together."

"That's because I want to blackout at the open bar, and you're the only person I know who turns down a drink on the corporate dollar," you say with a bright smile.

Levi tuts in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes wandering away from you again. "Charming."

A beat of silence passes.

Levi sucks in a little breath.

"You."

"Pardon?" you ask, and not even because he said it so quietly you barely understood him, but because it doesn't quite make sense.

"Something I keep around just because I like it," Levi says, his eyes fixed so intently on the outdated magazine stack that you're surprised the pages don't burst into flames. "Just because it makes me happy..."

Your heart stutters in its rhythm, a sudden weakness in your knees you can't chalk up to the height of your heels as easily as you may have liked to.

"...Just because it's pretty."

You swallow thickly.

His eyes meet yours.

The time and space between the two of you is thick and sweet like honey, and you wade through it slowly as you fight to find your words. You swear you can almost taste it as your tongue peeks out to moisten your already glossy lips.

"We should probably go," you say quietly, reaching out to adjust the lapel of Levi's suit. If your touch lingers a moment longer than it ought to, if your fingers brush against him in a way that friends' shouldn't, neither of you says anything about it.

Levi nods and clears his throat, taking the slightest step away from you towards your front door. "We gotta get you back before midnight after all, Cinderella."

You blink, a little confused, a little dazed, a little bit of a head rush still clouding your thoughts.

"The mice, remember?" Levi offers when he sees your curious look, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Oh," you laugh, letting your head hang as you nod slightly. "Right."

The two of you make your way down to the parking lot outside of your apartment building towards Levi's car, and you watch as the lights flash when he unlocks it.

"I've got two mugs, by the way," Levi says as he pulls the driver's side door open, and you pause with your hand on the handle of your own. He looks at you over the roof of his car, his eyes suddenly firmer than you'd seen them all night. More insistent. More sure.

You tilt your head, confused.

He ducks down to slide into his seat, but not before calling back to you one last time:

"The other one is yours."

[madlittlecriminal]

Fixing Mistakes ☾ Steven Grant × Female!Reader

Request: no, but they're open for everyone i write for :)

Warnings: donna being donna, marc pops up at the end

note: this has been done a few times before, so im sorry. i just like the idea

credits to @missdictatorme since her fic titled The Shades of the Moon is about steven getting the job as a tour guide. it is smut, so don't read it unless you're 18+

He was nervous to say the least. Donna said the new owner of the museum was making an appearance since she wanted to help them with their employees. He asked Donna about it, and she shrugged. "Might lose your job, Stevie."

So here he was, a nervous wreck while cashing out a customer. Yeah, he wasn't going to lie, as much as he didn't like working in the giftshop, he did like working at the museum. Sadly, he knew that if what Donna said was true, it was because of the number of times he was late. Then it hit him.

Wasn't the owner a man?

He shook his head and began organizing the small figures of the Egyptian Gods and Goddesses when the sound of heels made him confused as he knew one of them were Donna's, but the other was different. "Stevie! This is (Y/N). Her grandfather left her the museum after he passed away." You held your hand out while glancing at his nametag and smiled. "Nice to meet you, Steven." He took your hand and shook it, feeling his heart race at the sight of you.

Hathor blessed you with beauty, there was no denying that.

You broke the handshake and scan the giftshop. When your eyes fell on the stuffed Taweret, you made a mental note to buy it before leaving. She was honestly too adorable, and you didn't care that they were meant for children. "So, I read through your file and saw that Donna here wrote a little note saying that you wanted to be a tour guide?" He gulped before nodding his head. "Yes, I still do actually." You nodded. "Donna, can you give us a minute alone? Meet me in your office." She left and you look over at Steven. While he did sport dark circles under his eyes and baggy clothing, you thought he was handsome.

"So, it's no secret that you're late. A lot. Can you explain that to me?" You grab one of the plushies and bite your lip to hide your smile. "I-I have a sleeping disorder," Steven let his eyes wander a bit, checking you out before snapping out of it quickly. You hummed at his response before looking back at him, your eyes meeting his dark brown ones. "I trust there's a reason you want to be a tour guide and I know Donna doesn't want you to have it because you hardly come on time, but can I ask why you want to be a tour guide?"

He went ahead and ranted about Egypt, telling you everything that fascinated him which left you speechless. "It's just amazing!" You smiled at him. "I love that you know so much about it, Steven, I do. I can't give you the position though because of your tardiness, you know that right?" The smile on his face faded. "Y-yeah, I know."

"However, can you tell me why Donna calls you Stevie? You two don't seem close for her to give you a nickname, right?" He snorted. "She isn't great with names." You tilt your head to the side. "Steven, J.B calls you Scotty. I would get him not being good with names because he was playing a game on his phone when I walked in. Gave him a warning and told Donna she had to be on top of him for that. You work at the giftshop, and she makes you do inventory with her. How does she not know your name? Haven't you corrected her?" He nodded.

"She's just ignorant then?" He looked down and you sighed. "You know I can't have someone like that working here. I know she wants me to fire you, but honestly, I think you can try being on time more than she could be less ignorant." He chuckled at your words and nodded. "I need you to do something for me though before I tell Donna the news of her termination." HIs eyes widened at your words as you placed the plushie on the counter. "Can you ring me out and maybe try to be on time for, let's say...a week? If so, I'll think about that promotion for you." You sent him a wink, causing him to gasp and nod frantically. "I would love that! Thank you, (Y/N)!" You grin as he handed you the plush along with the receipt after cashing you out.

"No problem, but please don't make me regret this, okay?" He ran out from behind the counter and hugged you. You were surprised, but ultimately decided to hug him back...oh man, these baggy clothes did absolutely nothing but hide the fact that he had muscles. "Thank you thank you thank you." You chuckle before pulling back from the hug with Steven and hugging Taweret. "Just please promise me you'll make the effort to come on time. You'd be a perfect addition to the tour guides." With that, you left the giftshop, making Steven fist pump the air. "Honestly, she's 1,000 times better than Donna. I'll try to make sure you get up on time for now on, okay buddy?" Steven looked at the glass counter and raised a brow at his reflection. "I think we both know she's gorgeous, mate. Do you think she'd be interested?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, buddy. I like your suggestion, but patience is a virtue."

[yeehawbrothers]

Inverted PB&J-11th Doctor x Fem! reader

I'm alive guys.

This was a request from a lovely fellow 11th lover, I wrote it platonically, but if you ignore a few words it could be romantic. I also wrote the reader as American, just because I am. (I also zoned out while writing this and do not remember most of it)

“Do you think it could be considered a federal crime to eat inverted peanut butter and jelly?” She asked, hands covered in grease, sparks flying almost catching her hair on fire, and her best friend beside her, in the same state. “Inverted?” He looked up from the wires in his hands, his grease and dirt covered face, also covered in confusion. “Yeah like,” an explosion of sparks behind her interrupted her statement, before she spun around and used her sonic to tame it momentarily. “If you put the peanut butter and jelly on the bread normally, right? And then instead of putting them like, face to face, you turned them outward.” She stared at him as he seemed to process her words. “Oh, yeah. That’s absolutely a crime” he nodded, as they both went back to what they were doing. 

Behind them, Amy and Rory stared at them in question, before turning to each other with faces of pure bewilderment. 

Amy slowly stood and walked towards the two timelords, crouched under the ball of wires. “Inverted peanut butter and jelly? Where on earth did that come from?” A shot of sparks erupted in the timelords face as she stopped her work momentarily, the metaphorical cogs in her mind visibly turning. “Boston, I think. In like, 1901.” She said, with a small smile. “What?” She tilted her head slightly, “You asked where peanut butter and jelly came from, Boston. In the early 1900s.” She paused, “But if you’re asking about inverted peanut butter and jelly, I don’t know that. I’ll find to find out though.” She turned back to her work, as Amy shook her head and walked back to where Rory was sitting watching the scene unfold. 

“What was that about?” Rory said as he watched his wife flop down on the makeshift bench beside him. “Who knows.” They turned back to watch the two timelords who were now bickering over the wire placement, before all went silent as the lights flickered and a pounding was heard on the metal doors. The two timelords looked towards the door, before turning to each other and immediately standing up. The Doctor began quickly scanning the room as his right-hand woman ran to where Amy and Rory sat. “Hey so, we should probably start running.” As if on que, the metal doors flew off the hinges into the room. “Right, let’s go.” The Doctor ran over, grabbing her hand as they began to run down the hall to the Tardis.

 They stopped, allowing their two companions to run ahead into the welcoming blue doors of the tardis. The Doctor lightly pushed her ahead of him into the box, running in last and slamming the doors behind him. The two ran up to the main console and began flicking switches and pulling levers causing the Tardis to take off with a violent shake, before stilling. “wow that was-“ Amy began, before getting cut off by a certain timelord.

 “Why would you use the purple wire for the highest current?” The Doctor froze, looking over at his companion. “Well I-“ The Doctor began stuttering over his words. “No, seriously. It only had the capacity for 5 voltage, and it was running at 25. No wonder the doors were faulty.” She stood, hands on her hips staring him down. “Well if YOU,” he pointed at her, shaking his finger, “Hadn’t gone off about inverted peanut butter and jelly-“ She gasped, “Do NOT blame me Mr.! That was an incredibly valid question. Right?” She turned to the two humans watching the scene unfold. “Well-“ Rory started. “Don’t get them involved!” The Doctor said, “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Because everyone knows peanut butter and butter is better anyways.” She stomped her foot in detest, “You take that back!” He shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. “You’re the British one, eating beans on toast or whatever it is, so you have absolutely no credibility on what’s good.” He gasped lightly, “EXCUSE ME? The British one???” She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I got lucky and am a proud American.” She stood in a fake salute. 

“Listen,” Her hand coming to rest by her side, “All I’m saying is one fried Oreo will change your life.” His tongue stuck out in disgust as he considered the notion. “You American’s and your fried stuff. It’s so unhealthy for you.” She scoffed, “At least we don’t eat like we have no access to real food.” They stood like that for a moment, in a standoff of sorts, the Doctors face one of disgust, and hers smug as could be. Before bursting out in laughter and pulling each other into a tight hug. 

When they broke apart, she wacked him upside the head, hearing Amy snicker and watching the Doctor rub his head. “Don’t ever do that again though, I’m doing the wiring next time.” She pointed, hand on her hip. The doctor stood quickly, taking his turn at coming to a false salute. She shoved him jokingly, before turning back towards the console. “SO. Where to now?” The doctor thought for a moment before running around the console causing the TARDIS to shake and launch into takeoff. All the passengers grabbed a hold of the metal bars circling the console. “I know this amazing place in the Amedromia galaxy! Its- WHOA WHOA WHOA” He was interrupted quickly. “You know I’m banned.” 

Silence fell among the Tardis, “Your-your banned?” The doctor tilted his head slightly. “Yeahhhhh…. So, I accidently stole this like super important religious piece from one of their temples cause I thought it was a free sample.” The doctors face dropped into one of annoyance, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She became defensive quickly, “Listen- at least I’M not the one who stole that guy’s eye cause he thought it was a Halloween costume.” “HEY, YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN-“ As they both launched into yet another bickering session, Amy and Rory sighed and shook their heads. “Here we go again.”

Thanks for reading, and thanks to @dinofromspac3 for the request. <3

All the love-A.

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch5

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]

[ao3 version]

notes: I privated my ao3 account so that only registered users can see it... since all the ai stuff has been going on and I'd rather be safe than sorry.... I'm not sure how many ppl follow with the series here on Tumblr, but I figured I'd post it here too, in case any of you don’t have an ao3 account... [I posted this a bit ago on ao3, so apologies for the tardiness]

the gif above is so funny. the lil head tilt is killing me, idk. 

warnings: panic attack, self harm (digging nails into skin), franklyn having zero boundaries

You’re in Hannibal’s home again. You really need to have more self-preservation—you’re practically a gift-wrapped murder victim here. Although, he hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you’ll be fine. Perhaps you aren’t as rude as you thought you were. The thought amuses you.

Inexplicably, as you’re speaking with Hannibal, he asks you to accompany him to the opera. The request is so unexpected that it takes you several moments to realize you heard him correctly. Hannibal stares at you expectantly and you take a deep breath.

“You realize I don’t know the first thing about opera,” you remark apprehensively. “Surely there are far better choices than me.” Doesn’t he have acquaintances that are more suited for this type of outing? You’re certain you would look extremely out of place amidst the typical visitors. Surely, Hannibal knows that he will put his reputation at risk by bringing you along. You try to convey those sentiments in the eye contact you’re currently maintaining with the man, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded in the slightest.

“You are my friend and I want to spend time with you,” Hannibal states easily. You envy his ability to be so straightforward with his thoughts and feelings. “Is that really so strange?”

“I suppose not,” you frown. Fond of breaking doctor-patient boundaries, are we, Dr. Lecter? You dispel the thought. Admittedly, from the first moment you interacted with Hannibal, you knew he would be more than a psychiatrist. You’re happy to consider him a close friend now.

“Are you amenable?” Hannibal then asks, just before you can zone out and lose focus.

“When is it?” You ask, despite knowing that you don’t have much going on this week anyway.

“Tomorrow night,” Hannibal answers. You raise an eyebrow.

“Rather late notice,” you say, if only to make him sweat a bit. Of course, Hannibal’s perfectly crafted mask remains in place. “Did your date cancel on you?” Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. You decide to take pity on him and stop messing around.

“I’m just kidding,” you interject with a grin. It’s kind of fun to see how much you can push Hannibal around. You get the feeling that no one really questions him. It’s amusing to see him scramble for an explanation, even though the effort is perfectly rehearsed. “I think I’m free; I’d love to go. You just may have to deal with my complete ignorance when it comes to opera music.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Hannibal smiles. Is he playing along? You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting that. It’s nice to know that Hannibal can take a joke. 

“Anyway, thank you for inviting me into your home again; I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal says with a shake of his head, as if the very thought is ludicrous.

“I invited you.” Hannibal then excuses himself for a moment and you take the opportunity to look around his kitchen. You suppress the extremely compelling urge to look through his drawers—you know what you’ll find and you’re certain you don’t want to see it. Instead, you let your eyes rove over the polished cabinets and clean counters. Just before you can lose interest, your gaze falls on the rolodex. Interest peaking, you decide to walk towards it.

It appears the rolodex holds business cards of people Hannibal has met. You idly flip through the rolodex, needing something to occupy your restless hands. A few of the names are (unsurprisingly) ones you recognize. It takes you a few moments of observation to realize just what purpose this rolodex serves. It appears this is a list of potential murder victims. Flipping through the various business cards, you don’t see a common denominator. “Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude,” Hannibal had told you once. On second thought, these business cards are probably people that Hannibal has determined to be rude. You go through the names with renewed interest. A few of them are rather fancy. One even looks remarkably close to yours. You move to the next one before a breath catches in your chest and you find yourself returning to the one that caught your eye.

The business card is extremely similar to yours—same color and font. You squint at it, heart racing in your chest as you look at the name written on it. It must be another government agent, surely. You all have similar, standard-issue business cards. You just hope it isn’t any of your acquaintances. You’re expecting to see anyone from Jack Crawford to Alana Bloom. You close your eyes for a moment, before finally giving in and reading the name. It’s… It’s your name.

You stare at the card in disbelief. Where did Hannibal get your business card? It has your name, phone number, email address… It even has your office location at headquarters. You swallow past the trepidation building in your core. You can’t quite stop the choked laugh that escapes your lips. You let your guard down. You had foolishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. You let your guard down and, now, your name rests amidst the names of current and future Ripper victims.

“Is everything alright?” The timing could not be worse. Hannibal walks in as you’re looking at the rolodex and you quickly turn around, trying to shield it from his view. You’re not sure what expression is on your face, but it must be suitably harrowed, because his face twists in concern—mock concern, your mind supplies. “You look rather shaken.”

“Yes, of course,” you answer. It takes every ounce of practice you’ve accumulated to keep the fear from your voice. You sound slightly flat, but you’re convinced that you’ve mostly concealed your true feelings. “Apologies, Dr. Lecter. I think I’d better get going.”

You can tell that Hannibal is suspicious, but you don’t give him the chance to ask you about it—instead deigning to murmur a quick goodbye and walk out to your car. You’re infinitely grateful that you had the foresight to drive yourself. You’re not sure that you would’ve had the energy to maintain your composure in Hannibal’s company.

You wait until you’re a sufficient distance from Hannibal’s home to sag in your seat and sigh heavily. You’d been growing too big of an ego. Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. The two of you are friends and you foolishly assumed that your friendship gave you immunity. Clearly, that isn’t the case. You need to remember yourself, remember that the composed dinner host you often sit across from is a practiced killer. One false move and you’re dead. Once you get home, you spend the remainder of the evening in an anxious and paranoid haze. It takes you a while to fall asleep that night and, when you do, the Ripper follows you into your dreams.

The next morning, you receive a text from Hannibal—which includes the details of the opera and what time he plans to pick you up. It takes you several moments to ground yourself in reality and remember that Hannibal isn’t aware of your knowledge that he’s the Ripper. Once you collect your composure, you insist that you can drive yourself—but he waves off the suggestion and maintains that he’ll drive. Admittedly, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t have the slightest clue what to wear. You’ve never really been to an opera performance before, and you can only imagine what the people in attendance will be wearing. You have no idea where to begin searching for an outfit. Your closet isn’t exactly the best.

Eventually, you swallow your pride and text Hannibal. He knows you’re not sophisticated, you think to yourself. Asking him for help isn’t that embarrassing. In fact, you’d rather ask and lose a bit of dignity than try to puzzle it out on your own [and fail miserably.] Hannibal is quick to respond—almost as if he had been expecting the question—and says that he’ll bring clothes for you. You immediately have several objections to that, but they fall on determined ears. You regret asking, now.

A few hours later, there’s a quiet knock on your door. You open the door to find Hannibal waiting on your doorstep, folded clothing in hand. You shake your head in exasperation and let him in. “Thank you,” you say, taking the clothes he’s extending out to you. You still feel the need to try to argue one more time. “I could’ve found something on my own.”

Hannibal looks you up and down, in a manner that makes you feel extremely self conscious. You aren’t exactly wearing the fanciest clothing right now, but that’s only because you knew you’d be changing. “Doubtful,” Hannibal remarks. You glare at him, only to find his lips twisted in that slightly amused smirk. You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to change,” You then realize that this is the first time that Hannibal has been in your home. He’s driven you many times, but he’s never gotten out of the car before. “Feel free to explore, I guess.” You’re struck with the sudden mundane feeling of shame, as you recognize how much less luxurious your home is. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he starts to walk around and look at things. Meanwhile, you head to the bathroom.

Once you place the clothes on the bathroom counter, you’re once again realizing that you’re out of your depth. The outfit he’s given you is extremely lavish: an extravagant suit with dress pants. Upon further examination, you realize that he even gave you an undershirt. You push aside all the strange, conflicting feelings you have about sharing clothes with your psychiatrist. Unsurprisingly, the clothes smell very strongly of Hannibal’s cologne. It takes all of your resistance not to cough once you put them on. You’re not very fond of fragrances to begin with, since they often give you headaches. But, you know you have no right to complain. It was extremely generous of Hannibal to lend you clothing, and you don’t plan to disrespect the gesture by complaining about his cologne. You put on the rest of the clothing and assess yourself in the mirror. You look rather good, you have to admit. Of course, it’s all due to Hannibal’s clothing. You take a moment to brush your teeth again before walking back out into the main area of the house, where Hannibal seems to be looking at your decorations with a keen eye. He turns around upon hearing you enter and, for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence.

Inexplicably, Hannibal breaks the distance between you and reaches out. Your heart is racing in your chest but you manage to remain still. He fiddles with your collar for a moment before stepping back, apparently satisfied with his work. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Better?” You ask sardonically.

“Much,” Hannibal remarks. “Shall we?” He holds out an arm and you scoff. Hannibal freezes and you do, too. Shit. You hadn’t meant to scoff aloud. You compensate by putting your hand on his arm and he sends you a smile that is almost… fond. You immediately disregard that notion.

The drive to the opera house is enjoyable. Hannibal is one of the few people that you feel comfortable enough to share silence with. You don’t feel the need to constantly fill the air and, so, you spend most of the ride staring out the window and looking at the trees. Before long, Hannibal is pulling into a parking space and the two of you are ascending the stairs leading to the opera house. The building is rather grand, with beautiful towering pillars and elegant statues decorating the path to the entrance. When you enter, you’re unsurprised to see Hannibal’s mask slide neatly into place.

Evidently, Hannibal has been here before, because he navigates the opera house with practiced ease. There are several people that greet him upon his entrance, and he smiles and sends them a courteous wave. You idly wonder if he truly likes any of these people, or if he merely tolerates them. As you continue to walk in, you’re brutally aware of the gazes searing into your back. You’re sure that Hannibal will be the talk of the town soon enough—you get the feeling he never brings people to these kinds of events. Indeed, he seems the type to want to appreciate art in solitude. You debate asking him once more if he’s okay with being seen with you here. Within a few moments, you’re finally in the area where the performance is scheduled to occur. Hannibal leads you to your seats—which are in one of the balconies—and you can’t suppress your thoughts any longer. Thankfully, it seems no one else has found their seats in your section just yet.

“You realize how this looks, right?” You finally ask. Hannibal sends a curious glance at you and you refuse to acknowledge how handsome he looks right now. You avert your eyes for a moment, instead watching as the people below file into their seats. “Everyone thinks that I’m…  you know.” Hannibal continues to stare at you with a blank expression. Damn it, is he really going to make you explain it? You try to push past your embarrassment and remain professional. “I think they’re under the impression that we’re… dating.”

“The thought makes you uncomfortable,” Hannibal states, crossing one leg over the other. That must be why he chose these seats—he probably needs the legroom. The people below are milling about, talking with one another. You’re grateful that these seats are isolated from everyone else—there’s no expectation for you to talk to anyone.

“No, it doesn’t,” you clarify, wondering how he justified that leap in logic. “Besides, if anyone’s reputation is going to be at risk, it’ll be yours.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Hannibal says, something akin to amusement on his face. You’re not sure what he’s finding so amusing—you don’t think your statement was far-fetched or unreasonable. From the moment you walked in, you noticed quite a few people staring at Hannibal and you. They seemed to be making their own conclusions about the two of you; you just wanted to warn him. “I am not worried about my reputation.”

“You think your reputation won’t be affected?” You squint at him, trying to watch for a reaction. “...Or you just don’t care?” Your companion is silent for a moment.

“I was under the impression that I was the psychiatrist here,” Hannibal then remarks lightly. He sends you a look and you feel a momentary inkling of shame.

“Sorry,” you grimace. Hannibal’s lips quirk at the sides—a sign that he isn’t truly upset about your sudden psychoanalysis. You feel the need to justify your reaction regardless. “It’s easy to slip into the criminal profiling mindset sometimes,”

You spend the next several minutes having lighthearted conversation. It’s rather nice. The theater slowly begins to fill up until, finally, the lights dim and someone appears on the stage. To your surprise, the performance is rather enjoyable. You must be rather horrible at hiding your preconceptions, because Hannibal sends you a knowing look after the first song. You pretend not to notice the smugness radiating off the man, and instead focus on the singer. They’re quite talented, unsurprisingly. You’re not quite sure how much the tickets were, but judging from your surroundings, you’d guess they were rather expensive.

You take advantage of the brief intermission in the middle of the program to use the facilities. Once you’re finished, you move to go back into the theatre. However, there’s suddenly a hand grabbing your shoulder and you’re forcefully guided into a deserted hallway. You chance a glance over your shoulder, only to find a far too familiar patient of Dr. Lecter’s: Franklyn Froideveaux.

“Franklyn,” you remark, feeling extremely apprehensive once you recognize him. The man is wearing a three-piece suit again, but this time it’s eerily similar to something Hannibal might wear. You frown at the thought. Franklyn’s obsession with Dr. Lecter is really rather creepy. If Hannibal weren’t such a capable killer, perhaps you’d be worried for him.

“I saw you with Dr. Lecter,” Franklyn states matter-of-factly. He crowds you against the wall and you have to lean back against it to avoid touching him. The look in the man’s eyes is unnerving. It sends a shiver down your spine. There’s nothing in his irises except madness.

“Yes,” you respond, once you realize that Franklyn is awaiting an answer. You don’t tell him that Hannibal invited you, but he seems to come to that conclusion on his own.

“What did he do?” Franklyn asks. “Did he hold the car door open for you? What cologne does he wear? I have a few ideas but I can’t decide between them.” You feel your head begin to ache at his persistent badgering. You’re deeply unsettled by him.

“What’s it like being friends with Dr. Lecter?” He continues. Franklyn doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, as he continues rattling off questions. “Is he a good friend? Do you two spend time together?”

“Um-” You try to say, only for Franklyn to stop mid-tirade. His eyes quickly lock on the suit you’re wearing and you grit your teeth. This is easily one of the most uncomfortable interactions you’ve ever had, and it isn’t even over yet. You flinch as he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s Dr. Lecter’s clothing,” Franklyn remarks, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you wince. His grip is beginning to hurt; you think you may have bruises later. “You’re wearing his clothing.”

“No, I’m not,” you try to argue.

“Yes, you are,” Franklyn asserts, not indicating that he’s hearing you or even seeing you. His eyes are glazed and it almost seems as if he’s looking directly through you. “He lent you his clothes. Why? What does he see in you?”

Ouch. That hurts for a microsecond, before you then realize that Franklyn’s opinion bears absolutely no relevance to your life. You want to speak on those thoughts, but there’s a crazed look in the man’s eyes and you decide to stay silent. Franklyn seems to take your silence as an argument itself, though, because his hand tightens on your shoulder rather painfully. You try to shove him off, but the man’s grip is unyielding.

A familiar voice calls your name from further down the hallway. You squint, only to find Hannibal walking towards the two of you. There’s an inexplicable expression on his face, and you can’t even begin to dissect it.

“Hannibal,” you breathe, unable to hide the relief you feel at his presence. Franklyn finally releases his grip on you and you reach a hand up to massage your shoulder. The man’s attention is off of you now, thankfully.

“I presumed you to be lost, but I see that notion is incorrect,” Hannibal says, his gaze flitting about your face as if looking for any sign of distress. He then looks at Franklyn, disinterest and boredom evident in his expression. Of course, Franklyn doesn’t care to notice it. He sees what he wants to see, you think to yourself. “What is going on here? Franklyn?”

Franklyn looks to you expectantly, as if waiting for you to lie for him. You instead remain silent. You know that, right now, telling the truth will unnecessarily escalate the situation. Besides, your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you and you can’t find the energy to continue the conversation.

“We were just having a friendly conversation.” Franklyn answers. Hannibal looks to you for confirmation and you avert your eyes. Meanwhile, Franklyn seems to be falling over himself in an attempt to secure Hannibal’s attention. “Dr. Lecter, it’s so nice to see you here,” Franklyn says, his voice a far cry from the manic lunacy from before. The sudden change is rather dizzying. This man is suffocating to be around. “You know, I thought this might be your kind of place. I was just speaking to your friend here…”

You place a hand on your temple, beginning to get a migraine from the sheer burst of emotions surrounding Franklyn. Your skills in criminal profiling typically allow you to get a sense of other people’s feelings. At worst, you can get a trace of what they feel. Right now, however, you feel every emotion Franklyn is exuding, and it’s enough to make your vision grainy and fuzzy. He continues prattling on, but all you can sense is the horrible flood of obsession, jealousy, and a visceral desire so palpable that it makes you nauseous.

You put a hand to the wall behind you, feeling the need to brace yourself against something. Everything in the background falls to a dull buzzing rhythm—Franklyn’s giddy conversation with Hannibal, the muted sound of the performance that you can hear through the walls. You close your eyes and beg for the torture to stop. Maybe Franklyn will take pity on you and walk away. Maybe Hannibal will lose his patience and walk away, too—you wouldn’t be surprised.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your forearm. You vaguely register—through swirling vision—Hannibal leading you further down the abandoned hallway until he stops and pushes you into an armchair. Despite the overwhelming emotionality that Franklyn practically assaulted you with, you manage to scrounge up a rather large amount of guilt.

“Sorry,” you choke out to Hannibal. Your breathing is still a bit rough and your clothes feel incredibly constricting. You roll up the sleeves of your jacket—well, Hannibal’s jacket—and try to stammer out the rest of your apology. “Feel free to go back inside; I just need a moment.”

You place a hand over your aching temple and another on the arm of the chair. Selfishly, you think that you could use Hannibal’s support, but you don’t want to occupy his attention when the performance is still happening. You close your eyes and try to pretend that your ears aren’t buzzing. You wait to hear his footsteps as he retreats; you wait to hear an acquiescence. A few seconds pass. Instead, there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Dr. Lecter,” you choke out, your eyes beginning to burn. You wipe at them furiously, despite knowing that the effort is futile. “Go back inside.”

“No,” Hannibal says. You can’t see the expression on his face through your blurred vision—you just pray that it isn’t annoyance or irritation.

“I’ll be fine,” you maintain through gritted teeth. You think you hear Hannibal sigh at that, but it could easily be your imagination. The man looks down at you before pressing a cool hand to your forehead. Despite knowing that he’ll withdraw his hand in a few moments, you can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I’m sure,” Hannibal remarks, pulling you up to your feet and steadying you as your balance wavers. He places your hand on his arm and the two of you walk back in the direction you came. To your surprise, when you reach the door to the theater, Hannibal pivots and leads you towards the exit. You shake your head in disbelief as humiliation, shame, and guilt battle for prominence in your chest. Before long, Hannibal has led the two of you into his car. The moment you’re in his car, you bury your head in your hands.

Everything in your vision feels harsher and sharper. You begin to dig your nails into your palms unconsciously, hoping for some means to establish yourself in reality. You don’t realize you’re doing it until Hannibal reaches out and pries your hands apart. Your hands are trembling ever so slightly and you ball them into fists.

You’re not sure how much time you spend trying to regain your composure in the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Dignity is a foreign concept. You’re sure the embarrassment will catch up to you later—perhaps when you’re home and have some time to think.

At some point, Hannibal begins driving. Thankfully, the roads aren’t bumpy and the ride is rather smooth. He’s entirely silent and you feel the beginnings of remorse prickling along your skin. Hannibal never asked you to explain your interaction with Franklyn, but you feel that he deserves to know what happened.

“You realize Franklyn’s in love with you, right?” You blurt out, before quickly turning your head to look out the window and avoid Hannibal’s gaze. Truthfully, you had hoped to lead into that a little bit more. Somehow, that statement was what came from your lips.

“Yes.” Hannibal responds, his eyes still locked on the road. You take the afforded opportunity to look at him, confident in the notion that you aren’t being observed right back. Hannibal seems… entirely unruffled. Then again, he always looks unbothered. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to notice when something bothers him.

“He asked me what cologne you wear,” you decide to start with. You describe how you had tried to make your way back to the theater, only to be stopped by Hannibal’s patient and led off into a secluded hallway. “Franklyn knew that I was wearing your clothes; he also wanted to know what it’s like to be friends with you.”

“What did you say?” Hannibal asks, his attention still focused on the road.

“Nothing; he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise,” you admit. You run a finger along the smooth fabric of your shirt sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, the sleeve had started to roll up on its own; you take a moment to fix that before continuing to speak. “He’s so… suffocating.”

“It seemed his presence was harming you,” Hannibal remarks bluntly. You nod in agreement. At first, the interaction was merely uncomfortable. However, once Hannibal appeared, Franklyn’s emotions hit you with full force.

“I could feel everything,” you break off for a moment. “The love, the obsession, the jealousy, the envy… It was overwhelming. That man is the darkest person I’ve ever met.”

“He isn’t a killer,” Hannibal points out. That’s true—you’ve seen your fair share of killers, with minds so dark that you couldn’t hope to find an escape. Even so, those criminals were… straightforward. Franklyn, on the other hand, is a paradox.

“I know,” you acknowledge. “Franklyn is extremely neurotic, though—arguably the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s stifling. He has debilitating control issues and a crippling urge to prove himself. He’s often a victim of his own envy and jealousy. His self-concept is… I can’t even begin to describe it.” Yet, there’s a thinly-veiled hunger in Hannibal’s eyes—he wants to hear what you have to say. You inhale slowly. Again, you feel as if you owe him for absolutely ruining his night. Besides, you’re sure that he already knows all this information anyway. Franklyn is his patient, after all.

“Franklyn is sort of… a shapeshifter, for lack of a better term. He’ll adjust and change himself to fit the situation best. When he’s in love, he’s dangerously obsessed. His unconventional actions are reassuring to him, though, because they give him a modicum of control—a control that he cannot possess over anything else.” You have a lot more that you could divulge on the matter, but you decide to stop there. Again, you’re convinced that Hannibal already knows all of that.

“I see why you’re Jack’s best profiler,” Hannibal says, finally looking away from the road to look at you. His eyes are glittering in the darkness. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary compliment, too tired to start an argument. To your surprise, when you look out the window, you realize that he’s driving down your street. That car ride had passed rather fast and within a few seconds, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway.

“We’re here,” you announce unnecessarily, grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the vehicle. To your surprise, Hannibal also gets out of the car. You squint at him in confusion, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You’re not quite sure what he’s playing at, but you’re too exhausted to figure it out. Instead of inquiring about his sudden interest in following you inside, you simply allow him to do so before closing the door behind him.

“Do you want your clothes back now?”  You ask, unable to come up with any other explanation for his presence in your home. It’s not that you mind his intrusion—not at all, actually—but you’d feel more comfortable for a legitimate reason for his presence.

“If that’s acceptable,” Hannibal answers, breaking you out of your thoughts. His eyes are fixed on something on one of your bookshelves. You shake your head at his strange fascination with your living room decorations.

“Sure, I’ll go change; mind waiting here?” He assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting. You shut the door behind you in the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. There are dark circles under your eyes and you look a little frazzled. Otherwise, you don’t look bad. Amazingly, you managed not to ruin Hannibal’s clothing—a feat you’re rather proud of yourself for. You settle for changing into a simple long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. As you change, you neatly fold Hannibal’s clothing into a pile. Once you’re done, you glance at your reflection one more time. You take a half-step backwards but, before you move to leave, your eyes catch on something below your collar. You squint and lean closer to the mirror, convinced that you’re seeing things. Somehow, though, you’re not. After a moment’s hesitation, you pull your shirt collar to the side, only to find harsh marks on your collarbone and shoulder. They’re almost in the shape of a handprint and it doesn’t take much detective work to realize who they’re from—Franklyn.

That realization is not very welcome, and you decide not to think about it right now. Remembering that Hannibal is waiting on you, you grab the folded pile of clothes and walk back out to the living room. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal is looking around with a scrutinizing gaze. You walk up to him and hold out the clothes, but his back is turned. You eventually just decide to place them on the entryway table—he’ll have to see them on the way out.

“Thank you for inviting me, it was very fun,” you smile. Hannibal turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. Just what is he looking for in your humble living room? He certainly won’t find anything of value. Furthermore, your decoration skills are nowhere near his. You can’t find a reasonable explanation for his behavior and, eventually, you have to give up on trying to rationalize it.

“I’m glad you found the night enjoyable,” he answers diplomatically. You raise an eyebrow at the stiff response. Perhaps your little… episode… had annoyed him more than you initially thought. Another apology certainly wouldn’t hurt.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your experience too much,” you wince, sheepishly shoving your hands in your pockets. Hannibal shakes his head, before taking a step closer to you.

“On the contrary, I found the performance more enjoyable with your company,” he asserts. Hannibal still looks as handsome as he did when he first appeared on your doorstep this evening—not a hair out of place. You swallow hard, before roughly shoving the thought aside—now is not the time. “I apologize for Franklyn.” Your eyebrows furrow. Why is he apologizing?

“You can’t control his actions,” you say, waving his concern off. “No harm done.” At that, Hannibal’s expression darkens. He takes another step closer, until the two of you are standing face to face. For a while, there is nothing but tense, uncomfortable silence.

“I disagree,” Hannibal says darkly, his hand resting lightly on your collarbone. Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing away the collar of your shirt to look at your shoulder. He frowns and you realize that he’s looking at the marks Franklyn left behind. If you had thought his prior expression to be dark, the look on his face now is nothing short of murderous. You feel your breath stalling in your chest, as you ground yourself in the realization that you’re standing in front of a killer with absolutely nothing to protect you. Hannibal moves to cup your cheek with a tenderness you thought him to be incapable of. His touch makes your skin feel licked with flames. Each breath you take feels labored and harsh. You swear you see Hannibal’s gaze fall to your lips for a brief moment, but you put it down to your imagination. It’s kind of late and you’re tired—you’re probably just seeing things. For a long moment, neither of you move or speak.

“Good night,” Hannibal says, a strangely determined expression on his face. His gaze keeps moving to your collarbone and you idly wish you had concealed the marks better. His hand falls from your face and he stares at you for a long moment, as if regretting your parting. You make sure to remind him of the pile of folded clothes, which he takes into his arms before turning around to leave.

“Good night, Hannibal,” you respond, opening the door for him. You watch as he enters his car and drives away. Despite the knowledge that he’s already out of sight, you feel the urge to wait a few more minutes before looking away. Finally, you close the front door and fall back against it, your mind reeling.

chapter six

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 2.1 - hollywood nights

Rating: mature (language, sexual content)

Word Count: 1600

☾

She stood there bright as the sun on that California coast He was a Midwestern boy on his own She looked at him with those soft eyes, so innocent and blue He knew right then he was too far from home

☾

September 1983 - junior year

You sat on the wooden picnic table, leg bouncing up and down with a buzzing sense of anxiety.

Eddie was late. And you fucking hated when people weren't on time.

Honestly, you had nothing else to do for that entire evening, let alone the whole weekend. So his tardiness didn't really affect anything. It was the principle, though. A general respect for another individual's time. 

So the scowl on your face felt appropriate as you watched him stroll towards you. His black boots kicked up dirt around his feet, an air of cockiness hovering over him like a rain cloud.

"You don't look very happy to see me, sunshine."

Eddie Munson was your first and last choice for the tattoo. You were only 16, almost 17. And even if you were old enough, the closest tattoo parlor was several towns away from Hawkins. 

So your next logical thought was a risky homemade tattoo. Who in town wasn't a nark and had tattoos? Eddie fucking Munson. 

Normally, you would steer clear of the loud, unpredictable creature. You preferred calm things… things you could maintain control over. You kept your circle small. A quiet bubble of mundane peace. Eddie was pure chaos.

You noticed the metal lunchbox in his hand as he set it down clumsily on the table next to you. Instead of sitting down on the seat of the picnic table, Eddie perched himself on the top of it, looking down at you.

You sighed, "Let's just get this over with." His worn out boots were too close for your liking.

Ignoring your displeasure, the brown-eyed boy slowly leaned back on his elbows in a relaxed pose. The chains on his pants were the only sound in the quiet wooded park.

"How was your day, Y/N?"

You placed a palm to your face, dragging it down until you scratched at your neck. Be nice, Y/N.

"Um… it's Friday… and the weather is still warm, too. So I guess I had a good day?"

Eddie stared up at the trees above them. "You literally sound like an alien who is trying to figure out what a real human is supposed to sound like." 

Keeping your expression deadpan, you found little amusement in his teasing.

"So, should I take my pants off or what?" Standing up, you began to unbutton your jeans. "I didn't come here to have a heart-to-heart with y-"

"Woah, woah! Take it easy!" Eddie gestured wildly at you like he was trying to shield his eyes at something.

Looking around, you stood there with your pants undone. 

"I thought you came here to give me a tattoo. I told you, I want a quarter sized half moon on my-"

Eddie interrupted you again, which was also something that ticked you off. 

"Y/N," he stated coolly, "I have the memory of a fucking elephant. I remember what tattoo you want."

"So what's the problem here, Munson? I don't have all day. And you were late to our meeting to begin with."

"A real businessman, you are," the boy mumbled, staring at your bare stomach that he could see near your undone zipper. "It's just never been this easy to get a girl naked before."

"Ugh!" You threw your head back, hastily buttoning your jeans back up. He might have the memory of an elephant, but you had a fuse that was probably shorter than his cock.

With a huff, you sat down on the bench with your back to him.

"Why do you want the tattoo anyways? Does it have some kind of special meaning? You don't seem like the kinda girl to be breaking rules."

"What kind of girl do I seem like?" 

You looked at Eddie, who was back to gazing up at the canopy of green leaves. It was still basically late summer and the trees hadn't begun their transition into autumn yet.

Though his head was tilted back, his liquid dark eyes were now peering down at the frustrated girl.

"Hmm. I dunno. Y/N Buckley. French Club… good grades," Eddie pondered for a moment. "I've seen you hanging out with Nancy Wheeler and Harrington. That says a lot." 

His voice was almost resentful at that last statement, but you listened as he continued. 

"Your clothes are abnormally clean. Like, I'm surprised you're even sitting on this old ass bench with me right now. If I scuffed your white Converse you'd probably claw my eyes out."

You snorted, but you wouldn't ever dream of telling him that he was kind of spot on.

"Alright, enough of that. Can we please just do the tattoo so I can go?"

Eddie seemed scatter-brained and easily distracted. If you could help it, you would have already gotten the damn tattoo done and over with so you would never have to talk to him again. This whole situation was screaming Last House on the Left.

Digging in your pocket, you slapped the crumpled up five dollar bills on the top of the table.

☾

He'd headed west 'cause he felt that a change would do him good See some old friends, good for the soul She had been born with a face that would let her get her way He saw that face and he lost all control

☾

"So, are you gonna tell me what this whole thing is for? Seems like getting a tattoo means a lot to you."

Thankfully, he was almost done with the hand poke tattoo. You weren't exactly the best of company, in Eddie's opinion. 

But for fuck's sake, he could basically smell the sun on your skin while he was touching you. Hiding the hard-on in his jeans afterwards was going to be a legitimate problem.

So asking you questions was really the only effort of distraction available to him.

Suprisingly, after ignoring him for the last 20 minutes, you picked at your fingernails and grumbled a reluctant response.

"I just want something to keep secret."

"A secret? From who?"

He snuck a quick look at the girl, laying uncomfortably across the top of the sketchy picnic table. You were focused on your hands and inspecting your cuticles. You didn't seem fazed by the pain of the needle on your exposed hip.

Forcing his eyes away from your enigmatic face, he fought the urge to adjust his jeans. He had to keep the latex gloves on his hands sterile regardless of his dick being crushed by his pants. Completing your tattoo with precision and no infections meant a lot to him at this point.

And maybe, if he was lucky, you two might become some resemblance of friends after this.

"I don't know. My parents. Everyone around me," you shifted slightly. "Are you almost done? It's starting to get dark out."

"Stay still, Y/N. I'm just about done, then you can make your grand escape."

"Right? I'm surprised you haven't pulled out a knife yet."

Eddie held in a chuckle, trying to focus on the tiny moon. "That's the real plot twist. I'm going to wait until the tattoo is done to kill you."

"Not funny, Munson."

"You know, this isn't really a secret tattoo."

"Yes it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because I know about it."

Silence. Several minutes passed.

The half moon was borderline microscopic compared to some of his own meaningless tattoos, but in all honesty, Eddie admired it. He could only think of a handful of girls at Hawkins High with ink on them. 

But then, after a second, he suddenly felt wrong about comparing you to other girls.

"Alright, all done. Let me clean it up so you can see it."

Holding out a hand to him so that you could get off the table without rubbing the tattoo on your jeans, you looked down at your hip and sighed.

"Well, shit."

"What? Are you realizing this wasn't worth getting murdered over?"

For the first time, you let out a little laugh in front of him. Eddie was slightly stunned, and he would have fallen over in shock if he wasn't still seated on the bench of the table. The wicked Y/N Buckley actually expressed an emotion.

"No, not at all. I'm actually surprised that I like it."

"Gee, thanks, Buckley. I'm flattered."

"Do I need a bandage or something?"

Eddie reached into his lunch box for the extra-large Band-Aids he packed. Your tattoo was small enough that a dab of Vaseline and a big bandage would do the trick.

"Yeah, c'mere."

You still stood a few feet away, scowling at him.

He let out a bark of laughter. "What the fuck? Come here, I don't bite. You've been laying in front of me for a half hour without that damn look on your face."

Scuffling over to him, you seemed to have run out of abusive comebacks. He quickly applied the Band-Aid and turned away so you could button your jeans.

The snap of his latex gloves while he removed them was intentionally noisy. He wasn't sure about you. Hell, he was so used to not trusting anyone that it made him kind of angry that he wanted to trust you.

"I guess you're right," you whispered, almost inaudible.

"Hmm?" He had his back to you, cleaning up the table and packing up his box.

"This isn't a real secret."

Eddie leaned back, craning his neck behind him. You looked almost sad.

"Not exactly. But that's okay. I'll be one of your secrets, too."

☾

That was Hollywood nights In those Hollywood hills It was looking so right It was giving him chills In those big city nights In those high rolling hills Above all the lights With a passion that kills

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Hollywood Nights" by Bob Seger)

[specialagentlokitty]

10th doctor x reader - the stars in your eyes

Part 5:

You got in the TARDIS and Martha excused herself to go grab something to eat while the pair of you talked.

You walked around the console, running your hand along it, and you stopped when you got to the chairs and you sat down.

“I’m sorry I got angry with you, and for the things I said.”

“I messed up, you had a right to be angry.”

You leant back, tilting your head back and you closed your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I should’ve told you straight away, but I saw a chance for adventure and I really wanted to go…”

The doctor studied your quietly for a moment.

“You should have told me, this can be really dangerous (Y/N), what if you get hurt or worse?”

“I’m used to being blind doctor, I’ve adjusted, it’s why I know you’re stood about five feet away from me right now.”

“How do you know?”

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with a clever lie that would be somewhat believable.

“I can tell by the distance of your voice.”

He hummed a little and walked over, sitting next to you and you turned your head to look at his golden form.

“Answer my this. If you can’t see, how did you know that the galaxy we were looking at was the milky way? How did you ask to see the stars?”

“I have a small perception of light, not much but a little, it’s why my eyes are sensitive to the light because they can’t handle it.”

The doctor nodded his head and he looked at you.

“But how did you know where we were?”

“I guess you can call it an instinct? I always know where I am, exact location, whether it’s north, south, east or west, I know where I am and how far I go to get to where I have to be.”

“Impossible.”

You gestured to the console and he got up, and you rattled off the exact location of the TARDIS and he looked at you amazed.

“No…”

“Been able to do it since I was a child.”

The doctor walked back over.

He stood in front of you, his hands in the pocket of his jacket.

“Why didn’t you tell me though? Before you started travelling? Does Donna know?”

“Of course she knows I grew up with her, she was there when my vision went. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to say no to me coming, but I now realise that was a mistake.”

You slowly stood up and sighing heavily.

“Just answer me this doctor, two hearts. Why?”

“Oh that’s right you kept me alive!”

He quickly pulled you in for a hug and you hesitated for a split second before hugging him back, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“I never did thank you for that, so thank you so much…” he whispered.

“The universe needs the doctor.” You chuckled.

You pulled away and crossed your arms over your chest.

“So, two hearts. What exactly are you Goldman? I know you’re not human.”

“I’m a time lord.”

That word rattled around in your head like a church bell, over and over and over, repeating non stop.

The doctor waited for you to reply and after a moment he went to say your name but stopped when the door creaked open he stopped.

He looked up and you took a step away.

“Sorry, like I said I know I shouldn’t have come. It was a mistake and I’m a liability.”

You turned around and ignored him calling out to you.

“Did you make a list…?” You mumbled to Martha.

“I did, I sent it to that address you asked me too.”

“Thank you, I might be seeing you around Martha Jones.”

You cracked a smile and you stepped outside, the doctor rushing behind you calling your name but you were gone.

You melted into the sea of people and he couldn’t pick you out from the crowd.

“What was that about?” Martha asked.

“She had other things to do I suppose…”

When you were sure that you could be seen by the TARDIS, you began to jog slightly around a corner that had no people.

Your body disappeared into small particles until no one could see you, and you reappeared back at the house by the front door and you opened it.

“(Y/N)!?” Wilf called.

“Yeah it’s me! Did you get a list of books?!” You called back.

You closed the door and set your glasses aside, and you wondered into the kitchen, sitting down at the table.

“I did, Donna’s out right now getting them all. What are they for?”

Wilf set a cup in front of you and he sat down at the table with you.

“They’re books that talk about a legend, about the child of the universe. Stories made up through all of human history, apparently humans have been talking about me for centuries.”

“Really?”

“I knew there were some stories out there, but I wasn’t aware how many people knew about me, or, rather believed in something like me, it makes absolutely no sense.”

“And why’s that?” Donna asked.

She set a few bags down on the table and stood behind you, her hands resting on your shoulders and you took a deep breath.

“I thought you were staying with him? Oh and Grandad mum wants your help with something outside.” She asked.

Wilf grumbled and got up, and Donna took his seat at the table.

“So? Why aren’t you staying with the doctor?”

You cracked a weak smile, looking down at the table.

“I can’t…”

“Why? What happened?”

“He knows I’m blind, shouted at me, I stormed out, we spoke, I found out he’s a time lord so I can’t travel with him.”

“He shouted at you?!”

“Donna it’s fine.”

She shook her head.

“It’s not! I’ll smack him! And what’s a time lord?”

You ran a hand down your face.

“It’s a civilisation from a distant planet, I’m not sure what happened to them, but for some reason he can’t tell I’m not human, he has suspicions but he can’t tell.”

“Is it such a bad thing if he knows?”

You heard talking in the hallway and you got Donna to followed you upstairs to your room.

You closed the door and sat on the bed, and Donna sat next to you, taking the remote for your tv to put something on to cover the talking.

“What you found me I came crashing down from space itself right? But was there anything else that seemed strange?”

“No?”

“I was frozen Donna, frozen in time. The time lords put me in a time lock which for some reason or another broke. The froze me in time which was why I was still so young.”

Donna looked at you.

“Why…?”

“Because I was something unknown to them, powerful even at such a young age and they feared what they didn’t know. They feared me, a little girl who was just trying to find her parents again… they took me and locked me away in the furthest depths of the universe and the time lock broke, and I came crashing down to earth.”

You took Donna’s hand in yours and held it.

“I love you all like my own family, you are my family. But you’ve seen what the doctor does to any aliens on earth, if he finds out what I am Donna he’ll do that to me…”

“I won’t let him!”

“You won’t get a say… he’ll send me away.. he’ll time lock me again.. but I keep hearing whispers in the universe, things that don’t make sense, it’s why I got those books, I thought maybe it would help.”

“Help with what? I don’t understand.”

“Help in trying to figure out why in here, why I hear these whispers. Something is happening Donna, and I need to find out before it’s too late.”

She looked at you and you looked at her, and she could have sworn she saw the flicker of one of the stars in your eyes going out.

She focused on your eyes, carefully studying them to make sure that they weren’t going out, but she never did.

“Alright, I’ll get them, you do your project thingy.”

You laughed softly and laid down, projecting yourself out of your body as you waited for her to return with the books.

You sat down and turned your attention towards the stars, furrowing your brows a little bit, you created a replica of the universe in front of you, and you spun it around a few times.

You felt like something was missing, a planet was missing, but you weren’t entirely sure what it was.

Waving your hand through model universe, you made it disappear and Donna came back in, dumping the books on your bed.

“Do you need any help?”

You looked at her and walked over, placing your finger on her forehead.

“Anything that mentions child of the universe got it.”

With that, you sat down on the floor while Donna went through the books, you sat with your legs crossed and closed your eyes.

The universe had things it wanted to tell you, and you were listening, taking in everything it was whispering for you to hear.

But nothing was standing out, so you began to search harder, trying to clear some of the words that weren’t quite making sense.

You needed a lead, anything that could help, and right now the only sounds echoing were the same thing.

The darkness was coming.

The child of time and the child of the universe.

But there was a new one.

One seemingly calling out for you, but somehow linked to the doctor, a female voice whispering.

The voice was calling out to the doctor, but she sounded so far away, her voice rippling through space like she wasn’t in the same universe you were right now.

But you could hear her words just barely

Bad wolf

[agent-barnes40]

Christmas

13th Doctor x fem!Reader x Dhawan!Master (The Doctor and The Master aren't together)

The Fam get a Christmas surprise

Fluff, Angst

You fiddled with The Doctor's lilac jacket, a habit you got into doing with her when you got nervous. She smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your head. "It's going to be okay."

You huffed softly and looked at her. "What if they think this is just another elaborate scheme? What if they think he's in my brain and forcing me to date him?"

The Doctor pulled you even tighter against her body and rested her head on yours. "I know the Fam don't know The Master like we do, but I really doubt they'd suggest something like hypnosis."

You rose a brow and pulled back softly, to stare into her eyes. "And yet the both of you both like doing it."

She sputtered for a minute, her face starting to redden and you laughed. "I'm just teasing, sorry starshine."

The Doctor was still red but had relaxed as the two of you heard footsteps and you instinctively reached out to take the other timelord's hand. The Master gripped your hand tightly. "What's got our Doctor all red?"

"N-Nothing! Lets go in!" The Doctor quickly said, reaching to take your other hand.

The three of you turned to step inside Dan's new house, a new one had been given to him by UNIT after Karvanista destroyed his last one. Yaz had been in the door way and smiled at the sight of the Doctor before you and The Master had stepped in. Her face instantly dropped and she reached for her gun. You immediately stepped in front of The Master.

"What's he doin' here?" Yaz asked, causing the rest of the people in the house to look.

"He's my boyfriend. He's my plus one." You said, with a confidence you didn't know you had.

"Woah! Who's this guy?" Dan asked, as his head popped around the corner and The Master waved slightly

"His name is- Wait, hold on!" You turned and looked at The Master

'What name?'

'Lets use the one everyone knows, The Master.'

You turned back and took a deep breath. "This is The Master, The Doctor's best enemy and her girlfriends boyfriend."

Yaz's eyes locked with yours and you took it as a challenge. "I'm still dating the Doc, Yaz. No man's going to change that."

The Doctor's grip on your other hand tightened just a small bit as you took a deep breath and so did Yaz. "Now I know no one expected The Master, and you do not have buddy up with him if you don't want to, but treat him with respect. He has a right to that just as much as we do."

"Not after he tried killin' everyone! Did you just suddenly forget that?" Yaz asked and you pulled your hand away to rub at your face.

"Of course not! Time has gone very differently for us then it has for you. Its been a while for us since droppin' you off, Yaz. Its been what? Two weeks?" You asked, raising a brow.

Yaz was hesitant to nod and it took you looking to a very confused Dan to get your answer. The Master quickly went to grab your hand, this time tightening his grip on it. "Lets all just enjoy the party and I can avoid Ms. cop over there."

"Oi!" Yaz said, annoyed at how everyone was seemingly ignoring the murderer in the room.

~

Graham was next to have a reaction, of course you had stepped away from both The Master and The Doctor to grab something from The TARDIS's outside. He stilled and just blinked at the sight of The Master. "Lemme guess, this wasn't the Doc's idea, was it?"

The Master looked over and tilted his eyes up to meet the human's eyes. "It was my beautiful human's idea."

The Doctor snorted and rolled her eyes before her face scrunched up. "Just call her your girlfriend. Its demeaning to Earth's inhabitants by calling them by their species."

Dan snorted and raised a glass, agreeing with The Doctor. "Aren't you right!"

You had come back into the house, struggling to hold the presents you had in your arms. "Oh! Hi Graham! Could ya help?"

The Master had looked over at you and seemed to relax instantly, his ever watching eyes tracking at how Graham hurried over to grab the presents, quietly asking you what was in the boxes and you shook your head.

"Time Lord hearing is much better than human hearing, remember that, dear." The Master said, his eyes leaving you to check on The Doctor, who was staring at him in amazement.

"You haven't talked like that in a couple regenerations." She said and The Master let out a snort.

"Only for her, Doctor, only for her."

~

Ryan hadn't spent a lot of time with The Master when he was O, but still had a cautious look in his eyes as you sat in-between the Time Lords and you had your arms sitting their laps. The Doctor took to writing Gallifreyan on your palm while The Master took to just holding your hand. Dan had gotten up to deal with the food, which had caused her to start rambling about food.

The Master had rolled his eyes and turned to look at Ryan. "Do you want to get it out of your system, now or when my girlfriend's out of the room?"

You had turned to look at The Master, a look of annoyance before you sighed. "I cant believe you are trying to instigate another argument over you being here."

Ryan just shook his head before looking back to the pile of presents on the floor. The Master rose a brow and looked at you. "He wasn't going to take the bait and you know it."

Ryan's eyes shot back over to The Master. "Want me to take the bait? Here: Don't do anything stupid."

You groaned and pulled your arms away from both Time Lords. "I'm going for air. I can't believe this."

~

Dan had followed you outside, holding a glass for you. You took it with an eyebrow raise. "Its just lemonade. Didn't want spend to much on fancy drinks in case danger comes back around."

"The danger is sitting in your living room gettin' yelled at by our friends, Dan. I expect someone to end up with a bruised face or turned into a doll." You mumbled the last part but smiled when you could hear The Master snort in your mind.

"He can do that?" Dan asked, looking over at you, his eyes previously looking at the two blue boxes next to each other.

You laughed softly and nodded. "Of course, he has this gun thing- Sorry, a TCE, as he calls it and its like a sonic. It's really interesting when he sits down and lets ya look at it."

Dan chuckled and shook his head. You tilted your head. "What?"

The man raised a brow and you crossed your arms, making sure to not spill the lemonade. "Daniel Lewis, you better tell me right now."

Dan's eyes widened. "How do you know my full name?"

You gestured back to the house. "Not only did you live with me for months, you were literally in a telepathic box with a telepathic Time Lord. Plus, the TARDIS tattled when I wrote your name down once."

The Doctor's TARDIS seemed to brighten at that and you smiled. "Yeah, yeah. You like tattling on us!"

Dan's shocked expression morphed into a smile and he lightly bumped you. "You are head over heels in love, girl."

You laughed softly. "Oh don't I know it, Dan. Sucks I won't stay with them forever."

"Don't talk like that on Christmas." Dan scolded and you looked over at him.

"Its better to treat every Christmas like its your last. Its the best way to live." You smiled and took a sip from your glass.

"Who taught you that?" Dan asked.

The TARDIS seemed to shine even more and so did The Master's. "Some very old friends."

[louislovesdilfs]

Homesick (part 2)

Happy 60th Doctor Who anniversary! how could I not release the second part of this fic today, this is a bit long but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

sources: MatPat (film theory) and r/gallifrey on reddit (it was a debate so I took informations from different people and kind of mixed them together to work with something reliable,sort of)

pairing: 9th/10th Doctor x male!reader

please dont take anything I say about Doctor Who universe for canon, this may or may not be true, some of these are just theories, take them as such.

●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●

"I told you I didn't like him, right?" Y/n says getting in the TARDIS, he sits on the yellow seats near the console lookin at Rose tilting his head a little, The Doctor chuckles as he watches the young man teasing Rose.

"oh please Y/n, just admit you were jelous" she scoffs teasing him back, they're talking about Rose new 'Boyfriend' Adam, he turned out to be as dumb as a donkey...no poor donkey he is as dumb as a rock.

"jelous? of that guy? tsk" he says almost offended by Rose's statement, he wasn't jelous, jelous of what? Rose? yea right...she's like his little sister, she looks a lot like his actual sister...or how she would look like now...anyway The Doctor flirts with Rose too and it doesn't bother him, it does bother him when The Doctor flirts with anybody else but that's totally unrelated.

"got all defensive now have you?" she teases him with a victory smirk on her face, Y/n tho ignores her turning to The Doctor who's grinning while messing with the console.

"Y/n is right tho, he got a hole in his head." The Doctor points out, Y/n smiles at him and they bump fists as Rose sighs

"two against one, so unfair" she says as the two men laugh looking at each other.

----

"is that a good idea?" Y/n asks genuinely concerned, Rose wants to see her father when he was still alive, she wants to witness his death, legit of course but absolutely not a good idea.

"I just want to know how he was." she says, a but of sadness in her voice,

"I'm not judging you, it's jus- it's ok watching your parents' wedding but witness his death?" Y/n says again, he knows about witnessing a parent death and it's not great, definitely not something he wants to repeat

"how would you know?" Rose doesn't actually snap at him, it's a genuine question born from his concern, he looks away not wanting to answer at first so The Doctor interrupts them

"he's just worried, and so am I Rose" The Doctor says resting a hand on Y/n's shoulder, the man probably understood, he can see Y/n's been trough something and doesn't want to share, after all The Doctor does the same thing.

"I want to see him." she says firmly, Y/n and The Doctor let out a defeated sigh

"your wish is my comand, just be careful what you wish for" The Doctor says pressing some buttons.

As Y/n predicted things went terribly, Rose did manage to adjust the mess she made anyway, the three are silently walking to The TARDIS but Rose is looking at Y/n and then at The Doctor who shifts his gaze from the floor to her and then him before shaking his head lightly at Rose.

"Y/n" she calls turning to him ignoring The Doctor

"yes?" he turns to her not suspecting anything

"do you have a family?" she asks, rightfully Y/n thinks, they both oepend up, The Doctor talked about the Time War and his planet, Rose made them witness her father's death and in general they always tell some stories from their past, Y/n doesn't, it did make the both of them curious even if The Doctor didn't want to admit it.

"once." he sighs and he is thinking about stopping there but seeing the curious gaze of his friends makes him give in.

"we were four, my dad, he was a lawyer, worked until his last day on earth, my sister...she...she was so sweet, she looked like you Rose.." he says looking at her, she did look like her sister, it was painful yet beutiful in his eyes.

"she disappeared, probably kidnapped." he says but his ideas on the matter where slightly different, he could ask The Doctor to go back just to have the answers but he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to know if she's dead. He wants to keep hoping.

"my mother died when I was 7, she died in front of me, she wanted to help a poor man on the road, he then tried to kiss her and she rejected him, he gave her 50 stabs, I was there, I witnessed it all. He wasn't a poor man and she wasn't his first victm. The police didn't arrive on time and he was running away. I grab his knife and- " he stops, his hands closed in fists as his eyes are holding back tears. The Doctor brushes his knuckles and holds his hand as soon as Y/n lets him. Rose looks at the two men hesitating before hugging Y/n, she didn't want to ruin the moment between the two.

"he will stay on a wheelchair for the rest of his life." he says looking at The Doctor and holding his hand tightly as he rests the other on Rose's shoulders accepting the hug. After a while she lets go of him and the three enter The TARDIS but she notices, the two men are still holding hands, they're sharing a grief, both of them are alone in this world, the look in their eyes is similar, Rose sees it, do they?

-----

to be honest all the time Y/n wasted flirting with Jack gave him something else to thinks about even if that would mean having the burning stare of The Doctor on his neck. His mind was repeating the same things, over and over: there is no escape, they're all going to die, what if Rose gets turned in one of them? what if The Doctor is the one? can't go home without him, they're going to be stuck there, forever, die like this, being emptied out...what a pathetic way to die. He wakes up from his thoughts, the group is not far from him still they sound distant, maybe cause he's not paying attention to them, something in the room feels wrong, something is off even if it's hard to recall what precisely. He sees it tho, after a few minutes, the little boy behind her, it's too late to yell at them to run, it's too late to warn Rose but something makes Y/n's legs move as fast as they could putting himself between Rose and the kid, he feels the touch of the tuny hand and the only thing he can do now is turn to face the others,

"Run" Y/n says with a pale face, what an idiot he is, sacrifice himself, the thought of it almost makes him chuckle,

"Y/n-" Rose tries to say something but the young man shakes his head interrupting her,

"no, I won't let that happen again. Go. it was good while it lasted." that's all he can say, the thing is pushing in his throat, it draws blood as it makes its way to the surface, it hurts, it's all so painful, he shuts his mouth trying to hold back the infamous words he feels in his throat; he helds back tears too, Y/n doesn't want them to see him that vulnerable, it's so pathetic. He couldn't let Rose die, he couldn't let that happen, not again, she...not her, not now.

"You're not going to die, Y/n, that's a promise" The Doctor says in a deadly serious tone, he looks mad, maybe at himself for allowing this to happen.

"go..m-mom-" Y/n falls to his knees before the complete dark, he doesn't see anything, he feels his body moving but has no control of it, that is his end, that's where he will stay for the rest of eternity but then a familiar voice brings him back to reality.

"Y/n!" Rose says as the young man opens his eyes,

"Rose? what?" he asks puzzled, he looks at her as she smiles widely. Rose pulls him in a tight hug and he allows her to do so, he's happy she's okay and apparently he is too. The Doctor joins the hug too as Y/n hugs him even tighter, The Doctor laughs shaking his hand in Y/n's hair messing them up a bit.

"you thought you lost me didn't you?" Y/n asks smiling at the man, the smile was genuine, The Doctor stares at the young man for a while thinking how complicated this guy is, there are worlds to discover in Y/n, worlds.

"you doubted me didn't you?" he asks offended but still smiling, his smile is wide, he's so happy to see Y/n again, he did think he lost him for a second,

"answer a question with a question?" he shots back looking in The Doctor's eyes with a cheeky smirk,

"avoiding to answer the question?" both of them laugh leaving Rose in confusion,

---

"oh god oh shit!" Y/n says looking at the glass bridge, he is in some sort of game he doesn't remember how he got in or when he just know he is there, he needs to play to survive, squid game style, indeed the game he needs to play is exactly like the one in the show, 18 sets of pannels, the players have to jump on one of them and hope the glass they jumped on is the tempered one, if not they fall dying, Y/n hates the game, it's generally decided by random coin flips, worst case scenario we have 18 deaths, best case scenario 0 deaths but the chances are more than just low.

The chances for the first in line to get everything right are 1 in 262.144 wich gives and average of 9 deaths, meaning: first 6 people are screwed with less than 5% chance of survival while going 13th and later the chances grow to 95% or better. Y/n knows it, it doesn't take long to do the math, he chooses his number, 13, he's the 13th in line the game for him goes smoothly but he will always remember the screams he heard while the other fell in the nothingness. Once on the other side the bridge explodes and all the pieces of glass hit Y/n everywhere leaving him tiny cuts all over, he is a bloody mess and as soon as The Doctor rescues him he notice the lucid eyes of his.

"you ok?" he asks brushing the other man's hand in a caring way, Y/n doesn't answer, he just nods. lies.

Later on, The Doctor, Rose and Y/n are on floor 500, as Rose's speaks

"suppose" she says and The Doctor turns to her

"what?" he asks, Y/n turns to her too, hoping she has a good idea

"nothing" she shakes her head still thinking

"c'mon Rose, spit it out" Y/n sighs, his face still covered in tiny cuts and bruises bleading from some of them.

"No, I was just thinking. I mean, obviously you can't, but, you've got a time machine. Why can't you just go back to last week and warn them?" she says, The Doctor and Y/n both shake their head, it was a nice try, not good enough but nice.

"As soon as the Tardis lands in that second, I become part of events, stuck in the timeline." The Doctor explains but then he rants about something, it isn't clear to Y/n even if he can understand half the things he says, he learns fast and really smart but yet something about this Delta Wave and crossing his own timeline seems off and wrong, too late to understand it tho, the TARDIS starts to move Y/n rushes to the door before it closes shut but they don't lead where Y/n wishes, a vortex is what he finds, he falls in it as he hears Rose shouting his name and then the TARDIS door closing.

Y/n risked his life tons of time with The Doctor, he did always end up alive tho, The Doctor was such a brilliant man, it didn't last as long as Y/n wished; that's what his mind thinks before the pain, he's falling while the time winds shred his body, the pain is excruciating, he can't scream, he can't cry, he can't even breath; the air is stuck in his lungs while all his body gets older, he can feel his organs failing, but it gets also younger, his cells go back to when they were born. His body tries to heal itself as fast as it can, it borns and dies a countless amount of times.

His mind sees everything, every point in history, he's there. He has always been there. His brain gains informations it shouldn't get, too much he feels it melt, it isn't tho, no, no it is expanding itself in a painful process, as slow as it is quick. Time is relative, past, present, future...and then the end. He's back, a gold light makes him come back, it's like his heart beats twice, his chest hurts, his head hurts, his eyes are complitely red, blood is where is supposed to be white, he sees The Doctor, his Doctor kissing Rose...she's alive, he's alive...Y/n closes his eyes but a smile is formed on his lips as a tear runs down his cheek before the dark.

When his eyes open he is inside of the TARDIS, Rose is on the ground, alive but probably unconscious, The Doctor is near the console shining in the same gold light, Y/n understands something is going to change, his mind is still hurting him but that doesn't stop him from standing up ignoring the pain in his body.

"Y/n, oh you're so stubborn, you couldn't just stay in the TARDIS huh?" The Doctor says while his hands glow, it's not as pretty as before, it looks wrong.

"you're dying are you?" he says looking at the man's hand, The Doctor smiles shaking his head

"Timelords regenerate, we change appearance to cheat death, It's the last time you're seeing me with this face, Y/n" he says looking at the young man, he's looking at him like this will be the last time he will be able to do it, Y/n gets closer but The Doctor steps back telling him to stop, Y/n doesn't, he gets closer to the man touching his cheek with his right hand, no words are spoken between the two, just an understanding look, a stolen kiss, quick, meaningless.

Rose wakes up in time for The Doctor's goodbye, a burst of golden light and then a new face, he surely looks handsome, messy hair, cheeky smile, he's good looking for sure.

"where was I? ah yes..Barcellona!"

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

as everyone is celebrating the Sycorax leaving Y/n feels like he already saw it, he knoes something is wrong as he looks at The Doctor faking a smile to avoid ruining the moment, but Y/n can't lie to The Doctor, he always seems to see right trough his lies sometimes. He gets closer looking at the young man

"what?" he asks, new voice, new accent...it's difficult for Y/n to see his Doctor in this man

"something is about to happen" and as he says that the Sycorax spaceship explodes attacked by 5 green beams that steak up in the sky

"what is that? what's happening?" Rose asks as her smile disappears quickly, Y/n stares at Harriet with fire in his eyes, not thinking about why he knew something was coming, it doesn't matter now, he feels his blood boil as he he grits his teeth before speaking in a very low voice

"they killed them." he says and then turns to The Doctor, the man sees the fury in Y/n's eyes but understands it, he shares the same anger, Y/n whispers something to The Doctor and he nods getting closer to Harriet's assistant, five words, and she's done. 

"Oh, it's beautiful. What are they, meteors?" Rose asks looking at the sky,

The Doctor dressed up with a brown suit and a long coat on top, he's wearing white converse which Y/n, who loves sandshoes, appreciates about this new Doctor,

" It's the spaceship breaking up in the atmosphere. This isn't snow, it's ash." he explains looking at the sky as well

Y/n stays behind, watching the two of them, he listens to the conversation, he doesn't want to interrupt them, he doesn't want to be the third wheel really,

"Well, back to the Tardis. Same old life." he says looking at Rose

" On your own?" she asks biting her nail a but unsure about his answer, Y/n scoffs silently, of course not, look at him, the man is lost.

"Why, don't you want to come?" The Doctor asks her raising his eyebrows

"Well, yeah." she says and in that moment Y/n interrupts leaning against the TARDIS

"I'm invited too right? just checking" he asks crossing his arms

"I'd love for the both of you to come" The Doctor says looking at Y/n and then at Rose, she takes Y/n hand dragging him near them, and then she takes The Doctor's too, they start pointing at the stars asking in which direction they should go, wherever will do, for the first time ever Y/n is actually feeling good about something.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Sweet Like Sugar (13th Doctor x f!Reader)

Synopsis: The Doctor is having a hard time concentrating around you.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

You giggled, leaning against Yaz’s shoulder as she guided you into the console room. The Doctor felt her hearts constrict just seeing you, the way you were smiling making her wonder if there was a way to capture it forever. You were so sparkly, in a dress that showed off so much bare skin on your legs, dipping dangerously low, making her mouth grow dry as you glittered in the soft light from the TARDIS. She’d never seen you wear heels before, but the strappy sandals you had on had you almost as tall as Yaz. You giggled again, making her hearts start to beat double time in her chest and a smile overtake her face.

“You lot ready then?” she asked, placing her hand on the lever to land.

“I have got my dancing shoes on,” Graham said, shuffling on the spot. He wiggled his hands as if he’d done something really impressive, but the Doctor knew impressive and he’d done something anyone with two feet could do.

“No one?” he asked when no one made a move to show how impressed they were.

You walked over to her, letting go of Yaz’s arm, and she had to work really hard not to stare at your legs. They seemed so long and she was sure your skin would be so soft under her fingertips. You lent your hip on the console, tilting your head and smiling at her. It was one of her favourite smiles from you, the one that said you were excited and she’d done well with her pick of location but also like you were about to share a secret with her. The kind of smile that made thoughts fly from her head.

“You sure this place is going to be normal?” you asked, “no evil bartender or someone hoping to control us through heavy bass?”

“Course I’m sure. Don’t you trust me?” She scrunched up her nose, playing at being offended. You took a half step closer and she froze. You smelt different, like a summer’s night, not like you usually did. Not that she didn’t like it. She did. But it was different. Not like the rainstorm you usually smelt like. But still good. You always smelt good.

“I’m just remembering last time you promised us a night off,” you said, lowering your voice as if your conversation was private.

“I did apologise for that,” she said, “how was I meant to know it was the night those giant squid were going to attack?”

“Maybe by checking your special time lord calendar?” you suggested, “I just sort of assume you have one of those. It’d make sense for a time traveler.”

“Alright, well, it doesn’t have everything on it,” she said.

You let out a soft chuckle, biting down on your bottom lip like you didn’t want her to hear. You looked at her from under lowered lashes, chin tipped down, and your eyes were almost sparkling. She had to blink to remind herself she wasn’t alone with you. Her hearts were loud in her ears.

“Are we going then or what?” Yaz asked, bounding over.

“Right, yes,” she said, pulling down the lever, not able to look at you.

The room lurched and your hand grasped onto her arm. She looked down at it, then at you, finding you looking back at her with an almost embarrassed smile on your face. You let go of her faster than she wanted, righting yourself on the edge of the console.

“Shoulda thought about that when I chose to wear heels,” you said, mostly to yourself.

“I think they were the right choice. They make your legs look all… leg… like,” she said, realising as she did that she was definitely saying something weird. Ignoring the odd look Yaz was giving her she spun away to hold the doors open onto a dank alleyway.

Walking around the corner, ignoring Ryan’s complaints about the smell, your fingers brushed against hers. It sent electricity running up her skin, but not in the uncomfortable way electricity usually did, but in a way that made her feel all tingly inside. Your arm brushed against hers, your footsteps bringing you closer to her. She could grab your hand, she could do it, it was right there, right next to her hand.

You slid your arm through hers, holding on as you stepped over the gutter. You gave her a self conscious smile, the kind you gave her whenever you did something you weren’t sure she’d like. This time she definitely liked it.

“Alright, now some ground rules,” she said as you all approached the entrance to the club, the thumping bass making the air vibrate, “don’t drink anything green, if someone offers you something white, say no, if you’re leaving let me know, the food here is overpriced, be careful of pickpockets.”

She turned towards the door, reaching into her pocket for her psychic paper. There was something else she meant to say. It was right there, tickling her brain. She was missing something. Too many thoughts. Your fingers brushed against hers again.

“Oh, right.” She spun towards you guys again, “don’t forget to have fun.”

She turned as they made it to the front of the line. The bouncer, a large red skinned man looking non too pleased with them, grunted.

“Hiya, me and my friends have a VIP pass,” she said, flashing the psychic paper at him, hoping it would show what she wanted it to, “VVVVVVIP really.”

The man grunted again, waving them into the dark doorway. She reached back for a hand, hoping she’d find yours and tugged whoever it was into the dark interior, knowing the others would follow. The music became loud in her ears, like when she could hear her heartbeat. She could already smell many bodies in the main room, the sting of alcohol ever present, a great chippy down the road doing good business by the smell of it.

The hand tugged out of hers and she turned, finding Yaz turning away from her. She grabbed your hand instead. Your eyes were wide and there was a sparkle to your eyes she wanted to stare at forever. She shook her head, turning away. Not the right time. Never the right time.

“We’re going to go dance,” Yaz called, before tugging you further into the club.

You gave a parting wave to her before you disappeared into the crowd. She kept watching, tracking your progress to the dance floor. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from you, watching the way you laughed. Your body was moving to the beat and it made her mouth feel dry. Undulating body, hips swaying, head tipped back exposing the long column of your neck. You had no idea what you did to her, the way her brain turned fuzzy around you. She wasn’t used to having a fuzzy brain.

She dragged her eyes away from you, finding herself alone. With a quick headcount she found Graham and Ryan at the bar, leaving her standing alone. Scrunching her nose she did her best to make her way over to the bar too, assuming a drink would help her not stare at you all night. It would distract her, and she needed a distraction. A distraction that wasn’t you. You were entirely too distracting.

The drink was cool in her hand, ice clinking against the glass. She licked at the sugar on the rim, realising she was still watching you absentmindedly. You were laughing, your arms around Yaz’s neck. Her tongue swept over the rim of the glass again, catching more sweetness on her tongue. There was a part of her wondering if you’d like a taste of the drink. Sharing with you was one of the best parts of life.

She was about to get up from her seat to offer you the drink when someone sat down beside her. A well muscled man had taken the seat beside her, arm brushing against hers. She wrinkled her nose, taking another sip of the drink. You were allowed to taste this one, it wasn’t green. Turning her eyes back to the dance floor she found Yaz leaning in towards Ryan but you’d gone missing. Her hearts plummeted and she began to search the crowd. She knew she’d be able to spot you if you were in sight. You were like the stars, bright and beautiful and the first thing her eyes were drawn to in every room.

“Hi,” she heard you say from the other side of the man sitting next to her, “could I have one of those blue drinks? They look really good.”

She smiled, her eyes turning towards you. It was hard to see past the man but your dress was sparkling under the lights and your skin was glowing and your smile was bright. She’d never seen anything quite so beautiful before, her chest aching at the sight. She could look at you forever and never get tired.

“Let me pay for it.” The deep rumbling voice came from the man between you.

You blinked, turning your attention to him. The Doctor was disappointed you hadn’t seemed to notice her, hearts clenching. You looked up at him, so tiny beside him, and a frown marred your features. She hated when you frowned. It wasn nothing like your smiles, lifting her up. She worked hard to have you smile at her whenever you were frowning.

“No thank you,” you said, “I can buy my own drinks.”

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to,” the man said, leaning towards you. The Doctor’s fingers tightened around her glass.

“No, really, I’m okay,” you said, your voice turning firm.

“C’mon, lemme buy you a drink and then we can see where it goes from there,” he said. The Doctor struggled to stay in her seat and not interfere. She knew you were more than capable of handling yourself. She’d seen you stare down a Dalek without trembling.

“No, thank you,” you replied, turning your head away from him.

“Why not?” She didn’t like the note of anger in his voice.

“I already have someone and I’m not looking for anyone else.”

You turned your head, catching the Doctor’s eye. She didn’t know what made her do it, her brain seemingly disconnecting from the rest of her body as she stood, leaving her glass behind. Your jaw had been clenched and she’d seen the tremble in your hand as you’d taken the drink from the bartender. She wanted to put herself between you and the man, to remove you from the situation, to protect you.

Her arm slid around your shoulder, and you looked up, smiling at her as if she was sun. You lent into her body, your head resting against her shoulder, nose brushing against the skin of her neck. She shivered, tightening her hold on you instinctively.

“Hi, love,” you said, loud enough to be heard over the music, “I was just telling this nice man about you.”

“You were?” she asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. She couldn’t stop herself, fingers tucking some hair behind your ear, almost lingering on your jawline. Touching you sent electricity through her body, making her nerve endings pay attention. She felt jittery, looking down at you as you gazed up at her like she was the universe. She wanted you to always look at her like that. Your arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until her body was pressed against you. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to receive such a reward but whatever it was she wanted to do again.

“What were you telling him?” she asked, wondering if she’d missed something. Last she’d heard you hadn’t said anything about her.

“Just that I’m very happily in a relationship already with the most amazing woman in the universe,” you replied, nose scrunching up as you smiled at her. Her double hearts missed a beat.

“You were?”

“Of course,” you laughed, “you make me so happy.”

The press of your lips against her cheek had her hearts fluttering. She could realise what you were doing, putting her in the place of your girlfriend to ward off the man. She wanted to help you, she always wanted to help you. You looked at her with wide eyes, a small smile curling to corners of your lips and all she could do was beam down at you in return. The double thump of her heartbeat sped up, drowning out whatever the man might be saying to you. You were the only important thing in the room.

“Come on,” you said, sliding off the stool, your drink left behind, “I want to dance.”

You threaded your fingers through her’s and the feeling should have grown boring to her, but it still sent a shock through her system every time. You tugged on her until she followed behind, letting you lead her onto the dance floor.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be good at this,” she said, drawing closer to you in a bid to be heard over the music, “I haven’t danced in this body yet.”

“You’ll be fine,” you called back, taking both her hands.

You began to move your hips, swaying her hands back and forwards. She did her best to follow along, wanting to impress you. If she could dance like Yaz, maybe you’d ask her to dance with you again. You were smiling at her, eyes locked on her. She felt heat climbing in her cheeks, the way you slowly moved closer to her.

Disappointment curled in her stomach as you let her hands go, until you wrapped your arms around her neck. She hesitated, not sure what she was meant to do, overwhelmed as your body brushed against hers. Her hands fluttered either side of you.

You laughed, gently grasping them, putting them on your waist. Your arms around her neck pulled her half a step closer until the warmth of your body spread to her. Your hips were swaying and she wasn’t quite sure of herself, feeling her hearts pumping fast. You leant into her, your breath ghosting over the skin of her neck. She shivered in your arms, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“Loosen up, Doc,” you said, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, “you’re dancing like a wooden plank.”

Part of her wanted to draw away, to fall back through the crowd and return to the TARDIS to calm down. She felt as if she was going to explode with every brush of your skin against hers. Her hands slipped down to your hips without her permission. The way you looked at her had her cheeks aflame and her mouth growing dry.

You pressed closer to her, tightening your arms around her. There was no space anymore, nothing but you invading every sense she had. Your cheek was pressed against hers and she could feel every breath you took. Focusing on you, on the way her body felt, it made it easier to dance with you, the less she focused on it.

And then your lips brushed against the skin of her neck.

Her pulse jumped and she froze in the middle of the floor. You drew back, your eyebrows drawing together, stopping dancing as well. She tugged out of your hold, stumbling back from you. Your hand shot out, grasping for her, but the sleeve of her coat slipped through your fingers.

“Doctor?” She barely heard you over the thumping music.

She turned on her heels and disappeared in the crowd, not able to look at you any longer. Your wide eyed confusion stayed in her mind as she pushed past people, looking for space away from you. She couldn’t think clearly when you were there. She needed to think clearly.

The cool air of the evening smacked her in the face as she stumbled out of the door. She waved off the bouncer’s helping hand, shoving her hands deep in her pockets as she walked down the street, back towards her TARDIS. She needed a moment to clear her head, to push you out of it so she could go back to normal.

She placed both hands on the stone wall, rough against the skin of her palms, leaning against it with all her weight. She let out a long breath, still able to feel the ghost of your lips on her throat, burning into her skin. Her eyes slipped closed. She couldn’t shake you out of her brain. You consumed every corner.

“Doctor?”

She jumped, turning towards you. She hadn’t heard you following her, so focused on clearing you from her mind she hadn’t been paying attention. She cursed herself in every single language she knew for not keeping a better ear out.

You stood a little bit behind her, arms curled loosely around your waist. Without the flashing lights and the shadows it was much harder to ignore how much skin was on display. She was used to you in jeans and shirts, body hidden away where it wouldn’t distract her. It almost hurt trying to keep her eyes off you.

“Are you okay?” you asked, keeping your distance from her.

“Fine. I’m brilliant. Always brilliant. Why? Do I seem not brilliant? I’m totally brilliant. There is no one more brilliant than me. Except maybe you. You’re brilliant. I don’t tell you that enough. Absolutely fantastic,” she said.

“Thank you,” you said, “but you practically ran out of there. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“You never make me feel uncomfortable.” She tripped over her words, hasty in her need to reassure you.

“Then what happened?” you asked, arms dropping to your side.

Her gaze bounced around the alley, not wanting to look at you. If she did, all thoughts would fly out of her brain and she’d say the truth, and she needed you to think she always had control of her thoughts. If she didn’t then you’d stop trusting her. You trusted her to always be in control.

She finally let herself look at you as she heard you take a step forward. She watched as you stumbled, your ankle crumpling under you. Rushing forward, she caught you, arms around your waist, holding you up.

“Ow,” you mumbled.

She brushed your hair back from your face, hating herself for enjoying the feel of you in her arms. You looked up at her. You were close enough for her to see every single colour in your eyes, to count your eyelashes. Your hands grasped her shoulders, keeping you steady. Your lower lip caught between your teeth, eyes widening.

Just like that all her thoughts were gone, an empty mind staring down at you.

“Doctor?”

She couldn’t stop staring at your lips. It was making her feel hot all over. Too many thoughts about what they’d feel like, what they’d taste like. She lent forward and she felt you stop breathing. All self control had left her body.

The first touch of her lips to yours had you gasping. She couldn’t tell if the sweetness on her tongue was left over from her drink or if it was you. Your fingers tightened on her shoulders, pulling her closer and she groaned into your mouth.

She pushed you back a step until her hand landed on the wall behind you. She felt your breath hitch in your chest but she was so busy tasting you she could only focus on the way you sighed into her mouth. Your fingers buried themselves in her hair and her hearts thudded hard. She pressed harder against you, needing to feel every inch of your body against her.

Hooking her hands under your thighs, she lifted you. You yelped, your mouth no longer on hers. Not wanting to stop, she pressed kisses along the column of your neck. Your head fell back and your fingers tightened in her hair, an interesting noise falling from your lips. She wondered if she could make you make it again.

She pressed against you more insistently. Your warmth was seeping into her and you kept making those small noises she wanted to hear more of. She’d never heard you make them before. If she had the choice, she’d keep hearing those noises for the rest of her life. It was making her feel hot all over.

“Doctor,” you sighed.

Her tongue swept over your skin, tasting salt and sweet mixing together. She couldn’t stop herself from sinking her teeth in, just for a moment. The noise you made was more intoxicating than any drink they could serve her in the bar. She wanted more, ever more, of you.

“Oi, you two.”

The Doctor ignored it, kissing you again, swallowing every gasp and moan. You were kissing her back with the same kind of abandon you used during every adventure. It was making her skin spark and she wondered what it would be like to touch every inch of you. So many possibilities, and she wanted to explore them all.

“Oi!”

A hand grasped her shoulder, different from yours, and nowhere near as welcome. You tugged on her hair again and any thought beyond kissing you so thoroughly you wouldn’t be able to remember your own name flew from her head. Her fingertips skimmed the hemline of your dress. And then you whined.

No one had a chance of stopping her after that.

She pushed her fingers past the point of your hemline. Just barely under your skirt, she dragged her fingertips up, keeping you up by pressing you harder against the wall. Your hands slipped out of her hair, cupping her face with both hands, holding her close. She couldn’t get enough, needing you closer, needing to feel every inch of you. There was nothing more beautiful than you in the entire universe.

She was dragged back by the hand still on her shoulder. You yelped, beginning to fall. Quick as possible she grabbed you again, keeping you held aloft. You looked dazed, kiss swollen lips and glazed eyes. You blinked, looking down at her, hands still on her face. She lent forward, wanting to taste you again.

“Oh no you don’t.”

She was pulled back again. You finally looked over her shoulder at whoever was behind her. You ducked your head, pressing it into her neck, giggling, but the heat of your skin was undeniable. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.

Ryan had his hand on her shoulder, Yaz and Graham standing behind them. Yaz had her arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Graham looked very unimpressed.

“You left us in there to go get it on in some alley?” Ryan asked, “really?”

“We didn’t,” she said.

“You did,” Graham argued back, “we caught you red handed.”

“We didn’t come out here to get it on,” she said, trying to clear her mind. It was so hard with you wrapped around her, your breath hitting the skin of her neck. There was still a part of her wanting to ignore the rest of the Fam and go back to kissing you. It was much more interesting than the conversation they were trying to have with her.

“Sure you didn’t,” Ryan said, finally letting her go.

“Care to explain yourselves then?” Yaz asked.

“We were talking,” she said.

“We don’t have to explain ourselves to them,” you said, emerging from your hiding place, “they’re not our parents.”

The Doctor slowly let you go, regretting it the moment she felt you slip out from between her and the wall. You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the rest of the Fam. Her hearts thudded in her chest irregularly. How had she managed to go that long without kissing you?

“What we get up to is none of your business,” you told them, “we have every right to snog in an alleyway if we want. It’s not as if you didn’t know where we parked.”

“We didn’t know if you’d been kidnapped or something,” Ryan said.

“That was one time, and it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pointed me out to him,” you said.

“I did apologise for that,” he said, looking abashed.

“Right, well, the Doctor offered us a fun night, and I would like to continue that,” you said, grabbing the Doctor’s hand. You marched past the Fam, pushing the doors open to the TARDIS, pulling her along behind you. She grinned, excited to get back to the kissing.

She let her gaze wander over you as you led her through the halls. She was itching to get her hands on your legs again, to continue her exploration of your skin. She wanted to see how many more noises you could make. She planned on cataloguing them all.

She wasn’t expecting you to shove her down on your bed. You climbed onto her lap, threading your hands through the hair at the nape of her neck. She lent forward, eager to begin the kissing again. You tugged on her hair, pulling her back before her lips could get anywhere near you.

“I think you need to do some explaining,” you said with the lips that should have been on hers.

“About what?” she asked, resting her hands on your hips. She loved touching you like this now she was allowed to.

“About what was going on tonight,” you said, “you were acting weird almost the entire night, you ran off on me, then you kissed me when I tried to ask you what was going on.”

“And?”

“Do you want to explain what any of that meant?” you asked.

“Not particularly.” She lent forward again, determined to get her kiss. You tugged on her hair again, leaning away from her.

“I would,” you said, “please?”

She found it so difficult to say no to you, not when you were looking at her like that. You were irresistible to her, straddling her lap, wide eyes staring down at her.

“I suppose I could explain,” she said, preening as you smiled at her, “see, the thing is, you’re brilliant. Proper brilliant. Super brilliant. The brilliantest.”

She lent forward again, determined to get a kiss this time. She’d explained herself really well, she deserved a reward. Something sweeter than a custard cream and better than a package from the Kerblam man. You kissed her softly but then you were drawing back again. She tried to follow you, wanting to keep kissing you until the universe exploded. You put your hands on her face, holding her back, one thumb running along her cheekbone. It made her feel warm all over just looking at you.

“Keep going,” you said, “I need more explanation.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable because I think you’re specially brilliant. Proper specially brilliant. So much more specially brilliant than other people,” she said, “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable but then you needed me to help you out and it became really difficult not to show you how specially brilliant I think you are, and you were touching me which makes its hard to think and I needed some air to think because if I can’t think then I can’t do anything but then you were right there looking all you like but more and then you hurt yourself and I was touching you and I couldn’t think anymore and you looked at me and I couldn’t stop myself because kissing is ace and it’s the most ace with you.”

“Lucky for you, you had nothing to worry about,” you said, leaning in towards her, “I’ve been thinking kissing you could be ace for some time now.”

You kissed her and kissed her and maybe she’d made the right decision by bringing you to that club.

[channwie]

𓍯 LET ME SEE YA, BABY ! ⋆ GOJO SATORU ─ ⋆

in which, gojo satoru is carelessly in love with you .

no wc ⋆ fem!reader ˖ pure fluff ⋆ notes ˖ i wanted to edit this so bad but, i fear gojo would be this stupid and in love with you.

"so you blocked me, huh?"

you hiss your teeth, leaning back into the soft cushioned sofa of the teachers' lounge, one leg crossed over the other, dragging a manicured nail across the hem of your skirt. here satoru goes again. and on your work phone nonetheless.

"i didn't block you, i muted the chat."

and maybe you're being a little petty. before satoru left a day ago for a mission, you both argued about something — you're not sure you even remember the extent of the fight but you know it was about something along the lines of him never showing up on time for anything, like ever.

from megumi's parent-teacher meetings to dates to his own teaching deadlines, your boyfriend was just plain tardy. and quite frankly, you wanted to teach him a lesson on how it feels to be left waiting.

"so you're out here turning off my notifications and not answering my messages?" there's a shrill of static over the line, and you swear all you can hear is a shril shriek— almost like he's about to throw a tantrum like he always does. it's insufferable — but also endearing in a sick way. when satoru gojo isn't given attention, he's like a madman. a deprived toddler. he's a manchild.

"i have work to do, satoru." you sighed, and he scoffs, loud. "suuuuper busy right now, so i'll just call you back after i—"

"you think my six eyes don't work or something?" you hear a door click shut on his end of the line, and you raise an eyebrow, standing from your seat immediately to look around the room, twirling around then back again.

"not there yet, dummy." he laughs, and you soften — just a little, at least.

"you came back early — you shouldn't even be on campus." you stall, walking over to the door to lock it, just for extra measure, you're expecting he's probably already walking down the hallway right now.

"uh huh," he mumbles, taking long strides down the hall towards the teachers' lounge. "missed you too, babe — let's makeout and makeup."

you roll your eyes, leaning against the door as you press the phone against your air. "that's not happening!"

"that's your problem—" you groan, tapping your nails against the plastic of your phonecase. "you never take arguments seriously. they're called arguments for a reason, you idiot!"

what's the point? arguing with him is like fighting a brick wall. he doesn't listen, he's braindead. your boyfriend is a braindead child. it's all hopeless isn't it?

"so, you don't miss me juuust a lil' bit?"

you feel his presence before you hear his voice echoing from outside the door and not your phone. it's almost as if you can feel him staring at you, and you stare at the door, slowly shoving your phone into your back pocket. you can imagine the smug grin on his face.

"no, not even a little bit." you reach forward and twist the doorknob, pulling the door open wide enough to get a good look at him. and the moment you do, all teasing and faux pettiness is gone.

satoru gojo, your sweet idiot of a boyfriend is standing in front of you, blindfold loose around his collar and eyes hung low. he's in the same clothes he left in yesterday, and to you, he looks exhausted. yet, he's grinning down at you like the cat that caught the canary, victorious.

"satoru—" your voice dies in your throat and you usher him inside the lounge and out of the doorway, your hands finding his blondfold first as you get on your tiptoes to reach.

"baby, hey— wait a minute—!"

you ignore him and push the blindfold back up to his eyes, the softest twinge of a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"you that eager to see me?" satoru tilts his head to look down at you, and a smirk curls on his lips. "worried about me? thought you said you didn't miss me?"

"shut up."

he can't help how his heart flutters, and he commits you to memory, here in this moment. something so small, that means everything to him. and he reaches up to tug his blindfold down again but you stop him with your hand on his and a disappointed look. "don't overdo it, 'toru."

he's insufferable. he never minds his own health after missions, never listens to you, lies about being fine—

"im fiineee!"

"you have a headache, don't you?"

he pouts, ridiculously so. "only a little one." he grumbles and a snort escapes you followed by a chuckle. and with such a soft moment of distraction he grabs ahold of your hand in his and lets the blindfold drop regardless.

"satoru." you warn.

"what?" he grins, wide and almost mischievous, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, melding your bodies together. his muscles relax instantly after twenty four long hours without you. "just wanna look at my girl. you gonna get mad at me about that too?"

"i hate you—" you murmur just as he leans in, grumbling against his lips.

"love you more, you evil little ray of sunshine—" he points his tongue and licks the corner of your mouth.

"ew, 'toru!" you cry and he laughs. "why are you even back so quick?"

satoru shrugs, albeit guiltily, giving you a boyish grin, crystalline blue orbs admiring you. "you wouldn't answer my calls, so—"

"you're so—" he cuts you off with a soft kiss to your lips, and then he pulls away, almost too proud of himself. "sexy? handsome? strong? absolutely ripped?"

"—stupid."

to think he cut his mission short just because you wouldn't answer his calls. satoru gojo, the man you are...

"well, can you blame me?" he sighs, wiggling his head to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, your hands reach up to stroke his hair, and he's like putty in your arms with the way he melts into a hot puddle of lovesickness. "jus' really wanted t' see you."

"this doesn't mean i'm not mad at you anymore, satoru."

truly, you forgot what you even ignored him for. maybe you've been too lenient— no wonder he gets away with everything with you.

"yeah?" he mumbles, and he can't help but smile. leave it up to you to be such a hardass. "cuddle me and i'll make up for it later?"

"you're spoiled."

"you love me." he sings into your neck, and you sigh, a laugh leaving you.

"way too much."

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Okay so. House hidden away in the recesses of the Tardis. Castor leaving a copy of themself running in the background of the Tardis. 14 finding them both (separately). I think. Perhaps. There is an argument for combining these two concepts, because everything is better with polyamory (and honestly the Doctor isn't really one person anyway so it sorta already is) and also because 14 being ganged up on by bitchy digital Michael Sheens is delightful to me. I have not picked a prompt and this text will delete if I back out of the window.

The prompt is please?

(It’s Doctor Who so timelines not making sense should be a non issue)

Castor and House leaving themselves in the TARDIS systems is a great concept, but I feel bad for Arthur because he's not there. :(

(Oh wait! I have a whole little au with Fourteen and Arthur, so they're happy together there!)

Takes places after Wild Blue Yonder (so, possible spoilers???), Donna is there but she needs an emotional rest and so does the Doctor so they're in two separate parts of the TARDIS to chill (except Fourteen doesn't get that when their boyfriends want attention)

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor finally found their room after wandering the new halls. Usually they could find it, often because their personal door was covered in stickers, but the new halls were hard to navigate.

They also had a strong feeling that this was a bit of revenge about the whole... coffee thing. Oh, Donna found her room with ease, but that's because the TARDIS adored her! The Doctor was loved, yes, but the coffee thing, oof.

And the two stowaway boyfriends probably doesn't help at all, especially considering one of them tried to kill her before.

And speaking of them...

The Doctor opened the door, finding figures in green and white, sitting on their bed, and looking like they had been in the middle of a conversation. Or an argument, considering that Castor and House used to always be at one another's throats back in the day.

"Whatever it is, can we... not?" The Doctor frowned, holding up their hands. "I am not in the mood."

"Oh?" Castor tilted his head. "Did something happen? You and Donna were gone for such a long time, and the TARDIS..."

"Abandoned you like a coward." House snorted.

The Doctor gave him a look before undoing their tie and undoing the one button on their vest. They tossed them aside with a sigh. "No, she didn't. It's the HADS, and you know what that is. You're in her systems, you know her emergency systems."

"He's being an idiot, ignore him, darling." Castor said, the blue-ish hologram at their side now, putting a hand on their arm. They felt a small buzz from the electrical nature of the hologram, like touching the sonic displays from their new screwdriver. A similar technology, the TARDIS was being kind to Castor.

House, however, continued to just be a classic hologram, nothing solid about him. She was still bitter, good.

"Oh, stop buttering them up." House clucked his tongue. "You weren't exactly any help with getting them and the redhead to safety."

"And neither were you, the TARDIS had to abandon them in that... where exactly were you?"

The Doctor opened their mouth, then closed it with an audible click of their teeth. They didn't want to talk about the space station, they didn't want to talk about seeing the Not-Things, this face looking back at them with a cold, hollow stare that shouldn't be in those eyes.

"A bad place." The Doctor finally said as they stepped away from Castor and kicked off their trainers. They dropped on their bed, back facing the holograms.

"A bad place?" House scoffed. "Looked like a dirty, old spaceship to me."

"It seemed bad enough to blow up." Castor added.

"Probably the Doctor's doing, they tend to blow things up."

"Sounds like that might be the case."

The Doctor curled up and covered their head with a pillow. "Can you two just... not talk about this right now? Please?"

It was still too much too soon, especially with the conversation about The Flux, when they thought that they could finally tell someone they trusted with everything about how it haunted them, even now. Like the Time War, Donna would understand, she always did-

And yet...

There was a hand on their back, the gentle tingle of energy against them. "That bad?" Castor asked.

There was a hum from the TARDIS and House sighed. "She said for us to leave, that you'd be better in a bit. I guess we can leave, for now, but we'll check on you."

"I don't doubt it." The Doctor muttered and felt the pillow move away. They looked at Castor, as those pale eyes that showed worry. Not as cold as he used to be, maybe he's learned a bit more humility in his time in the TARDIS mainframe? Maybe that was Arthur's doing.

"I'll be fine, I just need to rest. This body hasn't stopped since it started going." The Doctor said, smiling just a little.

Castor smiled and moved away from the Doctor. "If you say so, we'll be close by, darling. I'll make sure that this idiot doesn't pester you."

"Fuck off, Castor." House said before blinking out. Castor smirked, giving a little smug head wiggle, then he blinked out as well.

The Doctor sighed, shaking their head, before closing their eyes. A rest might help.

--

Castor is still an ass, but I'd like to think he does care about the Doctor very much. House is a prick, but cares. In a way.

Probably not what you wanted, but there was still some bitchy Michael Sheen boyfriends in this, Fourteen just needs break!

[fxlling13]

Dhawan!master x reader

Genre: comfort

Warnings: mentions of suicide, self harm, self deprecating thoughts and scars

Synopsis: the master finds you mid emotional breakdown.

Please send in requests :)

Life with the master was always unpredictable. Never knowing where I'd end up or who I'd meet. Even if I could survive became a mystery to me. Everyday I found myself in unique situations with the alien man. Explicit dangers with seemingly no way out. Of course, he always got us back to his tardis, no problem. The one thing that hadn't changed however, was my brain. When I'd get tired and go back to my room, that the master had insisted on getting perfect, I just sat in bed and let my thoughts run wild. Negative images took over and there was nothing I could do about it. This had been happening for as long as I could remember. From school memories to things people had said in my day to day life. It haunted me.

Currently, I was sat in the library reading over an ancient script with the help of the tardis translating. It was helping to keep my mind off the thoughts. I had no idea where the master was but I didn't really want him to see me in this moment. It was no secret he saw all humans as weak and feeble, including myself. So why should I give him more proof of that? My efforts in reading were proving useless though, as my head felt as though it would impload. Usually these episodes only came when I was trying to sleep but maybe I was more tired than I thought. Before a tear could fall, I heard footsteps and sat myself up straighter with a composed face. Once the door had opened, the master strolled over to the book shelf and looked over the various gallifreyan literature.

"Good evening master, where were you?" I cursed myself for the shakey voice but just hoped he'd ignore it. There was silence for a moment until, he came and sat next to me on the brown sofa. The library was very cosy. Decorated with old pictures and panelled walls, along with a fire place and a plush sofa in front.

"Trying to fix the dematerialisation circuit. Easy stuff, sorted now." He muttered, crossing one leg over the other so his ankle rested against his knee. One part of me hopefully he'd just leave me alone so I could recover. The other half wanted him to stay and comfort me even if I knew he'd never do that. Why would he ever show such kindness to me when he'd already done so much? If it wasn't for him, I'd of probably lost control and been dead by now. Thinking of things like that, it would really help right now to feel pai- My thoughts were cut off when his hand wrapped around mine and tilted the script towards himself. Thumb moving against my palm, I couldnt concentrate on his explanation of the extinct alien race who had written this text. All I could hear was my own heartbeat.

"(Y/n)? Where's your little mind taking you hm?" Shocked at his gentle tone, I just smiled up at him to mask my emotions.

"Sorry, zoned out. Usually you have work to do, no?" That probably came off as rude but I needed him to leave before I had a real breakdown. I was starving, tired and emotionally drained. Not to mention, completely touch starved. The master tilted his head and let his eyes scan over my features. Feeling small under his gaze, I looked towards the parchment in my lap. He shouldn't be wasting his time sat here with me. Not when he's so incredible and capable, destroying and creating worlds each day. Burning stars and kick-starting galaxies. All I could do was observe, having no idea how I could ever deserve this. At this point, I was hoping he could just kill me. That would be easier than having to do it myself.

"(Y/n)!" Flinching, I was utterly confused at his sudden outburst.

"No one is killing you. Not me and certainly not yourself." My eyes widened, staring up at him in shock. How could he know? Was he that smart he could read me? Quickly, he rolled up my sleeves and wandered over my skin, his lips parting with worry.

"Theres so many scars, have you been doing this? The whole time?" Blinking fast, I stayed silent, not wanting to seem weak or pathetic.

"You're neither of those things." The master stared, brown eyes boring into mine.

"H-how are you doing that?" Before responding, he pulled my arm towards him and placed a kiss to my wrist, where most of the evidence was.

"I can read your thoughts. Anyone's thoughts. Yours are incredibly loud. Each time you leave my side I hear you, screaming at yourself." Realising he had heard every single thing, I pushed myself away so I was pressed into the arm rest uncomfortably. However, the master was quick to clear everything away from us and take both my hands in his.

"(Y/n) look at me." Slowly, I lifted my head to meet his gaze and was pleasantly surprised to find him looking calm. Pulling me forward, I blushed at the close proximity.

"You're not weak. You're not stupid. You're not ugly. You're not another pathetic little human. You. You are so much more." Without realising, his hands had found my waist which made it easier to get me nearer.

"I'd never allow just anyone to travel with me. You're special. You've never looked at me with fear or as a monster. To me, you're a life line that I can't loose." Tears pooled in my eyes and I made no effort to stop them. Seeing this, he reached up and brushed them away with his thumb.

"I won't allow you to suffer like this anymore. I should of come to you immediately but I didn't want to invade your privacy." Rambling slightly, I was flattered that he'd cared. I'm surprised he cared at all, why would he? I'm not important.

"You're doing it now." Remembering he could hear it all, I whimpered and let out a quiet sniffle. The master opened his arms and mumbled a quiet 'come here' whilst bringing me into his embrace. I couldn't help but sob into his purple vest, hands clutching it. Scared he'd let go, I relaxed as his grip on me tightened.

"I'm not going anywhere love. I'll never leave your side and nothing will happen to you. I promise." Nodding, I nuzzled into his chest and began to calm down a little. My whole face turned bright red as he pressed his lips to my forehead. He's just being nice, right? That didn't mean anything, did it? No, of course not.

"Of course it meant something. You are my human after all." Lifting my head up, our eyes met and a tiny smirk tugged at his lips. My brows furrowed as I tried to read him. Of course, I couldnt, he always looked this smug.

"Your human?" I asked innocently, completely lost. Did he mean that he owned me? Or that he saw me as a pet? Maybe I was an object to him?

"You think so little of me." The master tut, stroking my cheek tentivley as I, once again, forgot he could hear everything.

"I'll show you." Before I could speak, he leant down and pressed him lips to mine. Startled, it took me a few seconds before I kissed back. Melting into it, my arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. It was soothing, how gentle he could be with me. Being just what I needed right now. Sadly, I had to pull away to breath even if he seemed unphased.

"You could be my human, if that's okay with you?" A smile broke out onto my face as I practically threw myself back into his arms as a clear answer.

"More than okay."

[theresawritesstuff]

Saving Lenny Bruce

Lenny let out a tired sigh as he slipped into his apartment at the end of the day.

It had been the day from hell, debate on it's existence notwithstanding.

He'd been late meeting his lawyers for his latest court hearing because, well because he was a grade A asshole, but the tardiness had not helped his case any. He'd gotten off with a hefty fine by the skin of his teeth.

A guilty voice in his brain itched at the thought that having his suit jacket pressed and neat might have contributed to his lesser punishment only made it worse.

He draped the garment in question over a chair, making his way towards the kitchen.

It had smelled faintly of lavender all morning, which might have been pleasant with a clearer head, but he'd been so hungover it had only contributed to his general feelings of shittiness.

God he'd really fucked up.

Midge looked so pissed.

Worse yet, she looked disappointed.

He hadn't meant to imply her whole life was abhorrent to his, he'd just…

Panicked.

Because as much as he wanted her, there was no place for a guy like him in her real life.

He knew it. She… apparently didn't, but she didn't have the whole picture. He'd been very intentional about that. Keeping things light, fun.

Guarded.

Maintaining an air of suave mystery to keep their sporadic run-ins interesting.

Because if he truly let her in, she'd turn running.

Or so he thought.

But no, she just had to find him face down on the sidewalk completely blitzed and drag him back to her perfect upper west side life that he had no right to even think about venturing into.

Turns out he's the one who went running from reality.

Both hers and his…

He poured himself a drink and sat down at the table.

Honey had called yesterday to tell him she's not actually going to visit Kitty for mother's day after all because she's going on vacation with her new Cabana boy toy Ricardo or something stupid like that.

And she'd called him instead of Ma because she knew she could make him feel like shit for also not being there for their daughter.

He was trying. He was…

But when it came down to it he just couldn't be who Kitty needed. Certainly not who she deserved.

He called when he could but a voice on the phone doesn't make a father and having her with him was just impractical. Impossible…

With his arrests and his habits he couldn't seem to kick. Paparazzi hounding him and writing him for filth every chance they got…

What kind of life was that for a kid?

He downed his whiskey with a wince and an exhale, pouring himself another.

There was a bag in his bathroom that whispered a welcoming escape but he ignored it.

This time…

The bottle was half empty by the time he decided to stumble his way to bed.

Daylight streamed in relentlessly as he winced himself awake, his head pounding.

Lenny sat up with a groan and something squeaked underneath him.

He looked down to see a child's toy on a bed that wasn't his.

What the…

His hands felt absently over his rumpled shirt, unbuttoned much further than he remembered it being before getting stiffly to his feet.

Another toy caught under him as he righted himself, balancing against a crib.

Unoccupied. 

Familiar…

He peeked through the curtains out onto the clean sunlight street below.

Definitely not his apartment. But…

He closed his eyes tight, trying to will his brain into some semblance of function.

He opened the door, stopping short to avoid getting trampled by a little boy running full tilt down the hall.

Hadn't he done this already?

He rubbed his eyes, side stepping at the last second as the kid came barreling back the other direction.

"Lenny!"

He looked over to see a familiar couple sitting down to breakfast.

"Good morning. Would you like some coffee?"

"Uh…"

"We have bagels, bialys, grapefruit. Zelda could make you a blintz."

"Oh, yes. Go with the blintz! The blintz is a wonderful choice."

Okay he'd definitely already done this morning before.

Which meant this was Midge's apartment. And her parents offering him breakfast. Again. Verbatim…

What the fuck?

[babiebom]

The Woman Who Fell to Earth(prologue)

A/N: I am almost done with Doctor Who and I am trying to find ways to procrastinate finishing because I do not want it to end. I am obsessed with the Master which is the worst decision I have made seeing as he is not in every single episode. If you are reading this and enjoy it, feel free to give me constructive criticism on things I can improve on. I'm trying to write my own book and would like to write it as well as I can!

Tw: none? Maybe blood, and cursing?

Genre: multichapter fic

WC: 1.1k

Next Masterlist

Blinding light and burning cells takes over her entire being. The fire that shot through her veins made her want to cry out in pain, every single atom of her being burned with the fire of a billion dying stars. Dying and regenerating had never been easy, no matter how many times she had done it. She could feel the hair growing longer out of her head, she could feel her legs shifting growing longer and shorter before settling at the length they wanted. By the time she was done she was breathless, exhausted, and in dire need of a nap. 

The Tardis was aflame, thanks to her recent regeneration and she struggled to try and get it under control, losing her grip more than once as she tried to get the machine to land somewhere safe. The Tardis shook and groaned as it plummeted down towards whatever planet she had ended up on, ignoring her attempts in favor of saving itself. Things exploded and burst as the flames licked up the walls, destroying everything in its path. While this was normal with every new life, it was still painful to watch someone, something she cared about, be destroyed even if it would give way for something new. 

The woman is flung away from the console, her bones jolting inside her as the Tardis finally crashed onto what she hoped was solid ground. Taking in a deep breath, gasping for air, she flings open the doors to take a look at where she had landed. 

Green grass waved softly in the breeze, the stars twinkling so clearly, the woman almost thought she wasn't on Earth, but the smell of the lake and the dirt and the feel of oxygen in her lungs comforted her, as if she were in a place similar to home. The inside of the Tardis exploded behind her, making her lose her footing and launching her outwards. With a soft 'oof' the woman lands on the ground, face down into the grass. 

"What the fuck?" A small voice sounds from above her, it sounds dangerously close to being a kid.

"Hey, language!" She replies without thinking, still face down.

"Ma'am?" She looks up to see a young boy, light freckles across his face, dark hair fluffy atop his head.

"Ma'am? Oh…so I'm a woman again, cool." The woman rolls onto her back, then quickly jumps up to her feet, wobbling in place. 

"Are you okay?" The boy asks, eyeing the Tardis behind her. 

"Um, yes, well I think so, well, not really…do you happen to have somewhere I could take a nap?"

The boy tilts his head in confusion, so the woman gestures to the Tardis behind her as if everything should've been obvious. "My Tardis is kind of…indisposed right now."

"It's on fire." The boy replies, eyes darting up to the blue box then back down to her, looking quite unamused.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Now about that place to nap."

The boy sneaks her into his room, which was very easy seeing as his room was in the basement. The woman looks at him as if it was normal for her to have someone sneak into their homes, as if the old police box she had fallen out of normally caught fire and appeared out of nowhere. 

"So," the woman begins while settling on the couch, "do you sneak strange people into your house often?" 

The boy quirked up an eyebrow and shook his head. The woman nodded in relief and looked at him quite seriously. "Good, you shouldn't bring just anyone into your home. You shouldn't trust everyone you meet."

"So I shouldn't trust you?" He asks, the woman shakes her head in response.

"Well, I'm not included in that I'm the Doctor! Of course you can trust me!" 

"The Doctor?"

"Yup, that's my name!"

The boy stares at the woman in confusion, they're both silent for a second before she begins to hyperventilate. "So…"

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian! Right! I'm going to pass out very soon! Thank you for giving me a place to rest. It's very kind of you."

The boy nods as the woman opens her mouth as if she's going to speak again only for her body to slump over forwards, crashing into the floor below her. With a gasp, Sebastian hurries forward checking with his eyes that the woman wasn't injured or dead. It only takes him a second to decide that he's going to get her back onto the couch, and it takes all of his strength and ten whole minutes to move the woman's body in a way that looks somewhat comfortable and to put a blanket over her so she doesn't get cold.

He watched her for a while, she was perfectly still, as if she had died except for her chest rising and falling with her breaths. He settled in his bed, not really believing he had witnessed this woman appear out of nowhere, and let his mind wander with explanations of who she could possibly be. She had said words he didn't understand completely, like referring to the police box as a Tardis. He wondered how she got it to move and how she got it to catch on fire. Maybe he could ask when they wake up in the morning. He's going to have to sneak her out of here anyways, though he doubts his mom or new step father would notice anyways. 

Waking up in the morning, Sebastian's eyes immediately find the small couch in the corner of his room. His heart and curiosity deflate upon seeing the couch empty, the blanket laying messily on the side of it. He fought the tears that threatened to leave his eyes, telling himself that being disappointed and feeling abandoned by a person he didn't even know was stupid, if his dad could leave him why wouldn't a random woman?

He got dressed in an almost frenzy, his clothes messy as he emerged from his room and into the kitchen just in time to be able to eat breakfast before he had to get on the bus to get to school. He ignores the disappointment in his chest as neither his mother nor his stepfather ask him if he's okay, both of them more preoccupied with his younger sister who was babbling and making baby noises as she received attention from her parents. 

He leaves the house alone, sad and wishing the woman and her Tardis would return and take her with him, or that she would at least answer his questions before disappearing again. 

He knows she has to be real, he knows that one day he will see her again.