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createserenity · 6 months

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Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship dynamic fascinates me and what fascinates me even more is how people perceive them, partly because I seem to have a much more optimistic view of their dynamic than a lot of what I read suggests they do.

With that in mind I started trying to unpick how I see their dynamic and why and what I ended up with was a series of rambles on various aspects, including confidence, trust, silliness and what they ask of each other. This one is about what they ask of each other and why their relationship isn't some weird one-sided thing where Crowley gives Aziraphale everything he could possibly want or ask for.

I see a lot of posts and things suggesting Crowley always rolls over and does anything Aziraphale asks of him. I don’t know to what extent most people really believe this or if it’s just a fun joke (and I’m not saying that’s bad, I think it’s a fun joke too, I love reading all that stuff and it makes me laugh). The point I wanted to make here though is that I don’t think it’s true and also why I don’t think it’s true.

Everything from here on out is my opinion, but I won’t keep stating that in order to make it more easily readable, just take it as a given. If your opinion is different that’s absolutely fine, I love that we can all see this stuff in different ways depending on our experiences and personalities, it’s why the fandom is so fun. (It’s also why my opinion on so many things in season two ricochets wildly from one theory to another).

So back to Crowley and Aziraphale – I don’t think Aziraphale walks all over Crowley, or certainly not to the extent that people sometimes think he does. Also Crowley doesn’t and wouldn’t allow himself to be walked all over anyway. Why is this even relevant? Because I’ve seen people say that in the final 15 minutes Aziraphale finally asked Crowley to do something that pushed him over the edge and that Aziraphale was shocked when Crowley didn’t roll over and do it because Crowley always does what Aziraphale asks. This isn’t at all true for a start, but also this view tends to include a second assumption, which is that their relationship is one-sided and Aziraphale never does anything for Crowley, that he dismisses him and takes him for granted, which also is not true in a lot of ways. I think it’s a fundamental misinterpretation of their relationship dynamic.

First of all why can Crowley’s actions be interpreted as just rolling over and doing whatever Aziraphale wants? Well, the answer to that is three-fold – firstly Crowley is a genuinely unselfish in many ways, he does things for people because that’s the way he is, it doesn’t make him a pushover, it just makes him nice. Secondly he loves Aziraphale deeply. Whether he knows it or not doesn’t matter, he cares for Aziraphale and wants him to be happy. This isn’t the same as being a complete doormat, it’s simply compromising with the person you are in a relationship with and occasionally prioritising them over yourself. Both these things come together in the third thing, which is that Crowley’s love language is acts of service – he enjoys doing nice things for Aziraphale, he enjoys rescuing him, or going along with him and letting him have his own way, so why not do it? The point is he’s never railroaded into it by Aziraphale, it’s always a deliberate choice. He is literally saying, I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

How does Aziraphale see this behaviour?

Well that’s a tricky one, because in many ways Aziraphale is the more complex character, not least because he changes the most over the course of their history together. Is there a slight element of him taking Crowley for granted in some of their interactions, especially in season two? Possibly, but mostly I don’t think that’s it at all. When someone gives you things because their love language is acts of service you develop a (mostly sub-conscious) confidence in that relationship dynamic and if you also have confidence in yourself (which Aziraphale absolutely does – I’ll write more on this another time) then when you want something you ask for things. You ask not because you learn to expect, but because you think you’re worthy of asking and you think that your relationship is strong enough to stand up to the ask. I ask my husband for things all the time, sometimes they’re things I know he’ll give me – these are easy asks (I don’t just mean physical objects, I also mean acts of service such as helping me with something), sometimes though I’ll ask for things knowing he probably won’t give me that thing or without having a clue what his answer will be – these are harder asks, the sort you don’t do early on in relationships because they might break it either in one go or over time. Sometimes a hard ask results in me getting what I want, sometimes it results in a bit of back and forth before I get what I want, sometimes I get a no and I’m temporarily annoyed or upset, sometimes I get a no and I accept it because I knew it was the most likely outcome.

The point is that I ask, and so does Aziraphale. You ask because you have confidence that you are worthy of the ask and also that your relationship is strong enough to bear the request, even if the answer is no. Can a no still be annoying or upsetting? Yes absolutely. Can a no still be wrong on the part of the other person? Also yes. The point is that sometimes the no isn’t wrong and it doesn’t necessarily break the relationship. By the time season two comes along Aziraphale is confident enough in his relationship with Crowley to feel it can bear the weight of him asking.

So what happens when he asks? Does Crowley roll over?

Well no, he doesn’t. One big example of this is right at the beginning of the series, in episode one. Here Aziraphale makes a massive ask of Crowley and he knows it’s a big ask. Even before he tells Crowley what the problem is he’s aware of the possibility of a no. “Is it something I can help you with?” Crowley sayss, and Aziraphale merely shrugs. It’s not because Nina is there, she’s gone by that point. It’s also not because he doesn’t have faith in Crowley’s ability to help him, he always has faith in Crowley’s abilities (this is a whole other thing on trust). What he’s doubting is whether Crowley will help him. It’s why they’re meeting in the café, not the bookshop. He wants to break this one to Crowley a bit at a time – there’s a problem and I need help. I want your help, it’s why I called you, but you aren’t going to like it and I’m not even sure whether you will help so I’m establishing that I need help first, rather than showing you Gabriel immediately, so that you aren’t completely surprised when I present the whole problem to you.

Once they go to the bookshop and Crowley is confronted with Gabriel he offers the help he feels able to give by saying that he’ll drive Gabriel somewhere and dump him. He’s stating his willingness to help (which is important later), but for now he’ll only help in one specific way. What he isn’t willing to do is any more than that, not even for Aziraphale.

Help me take care of Gabriel. Help me sort this mess out, Aziraphale says, and what does Crowley say? No. Absolutely not. You’re on your own with this one. Even after Aziraphale practically begs him for help, complete with puppy dog eyes and the magic word, “I’d love you to help me,” Crowley still says no. That is not the reply of someone who lets themselves be walked all over or who rolls over every time the angel they’re in love with flutters their eyelashes.

Okay so what about the fact that he returns? Well, the stakes have been raised: for a start Aziraphale is now directly in danger, which alters the balance in favour of helping him, and remember he was already willing to help, he said as much, but he was previously only willing to help in one way. Now that’s changed. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do for someone you love when the stakes are raised is a perfectly normal rection in a relationship and does not indicate an unhealthy dynamic. Crowley has now realised that getting rid of Gabriel is no longer an option - his preferred plan (dumping Gabriel somewhere) will no longer work, so the only choice is now Aziraphale’s plan of keeping him in the bookshop and taking care of him.

This is why he returns.

A quick note on the call

Just backtracking a bit here – when Aziraphale calls Crowley to ask him for help Crowley agrees to be over in two minutes. It’s instant, no questions asked and at first glance looks like Aziraphale calls and Crowley comes running just because. But nope. Later we are very clearly told that Crowley knows something is wrong the moment he picks up the phone and Aziraphale starts speaking, “This was your ‘Something’s Wrong’ voice.” Crowley already knows there’s a problem and what do you do when your closest friend calls you and tells you about a problem? You try to help. Whether that’s advice, comfort, physically going around to help out or whatever the situation calls for. Of course Crowley says he’ll be there in two minutes, he doesn’t exactly have anything else on and his friend has just indirectly told him something is wrong. He’d be a pretty shitty person/entity if he didn’t agree to drop round and try to help.

So what about the 'I was wrong' dance?

This whole interaction, that many people say indicates how under the thumb he is actually shows us the exact opposite. What’s the first thing Crowley says when Aziraphale asks him to do the dance? “I don’t do the dance.” This tells us a hell of a lot about their relationship dynamic up to this point – for a start Aziraphale has clearly done the dance before, at Crowley’s request, and he lists off the occasions. The dance is silly and slightly demeaning and Aziraphale has done it several times for Crowley, whilst Crowley has never done it, yet somehow we read this whole scene as Crowley being the whipped one? Um. No. Also heavily implied in Crowley’s, “I don’t do the dance” statement is, You’ve asked me to do this before, I’ve always said no because I don’t want to. You’ve always accepted my no before and I want (expect!) you to accept it this time.

But this time Aziraphale doesn’t accept the no. Just like Crowley wouldn’t go along with his plan earlier, Aziraphale now won’t go along with Crowley’s no. Clearly he has done so in the past, but this time their dynamics are different. They’ve been much more open about their friendship for the past four years, they’ve both accepted that they are at least close friends, if not more. They’ve saved the world together and saved each other. They both acknowledge they “carved (this existence) out for ourselves” and that brings strength to their relationship. Now that Aziraphale has more confidence in what they are to each other, he takes that confidence and tests the limits of what Crowley will do for him, to push them more towards equality. Why should he always be the one to do the dance? Crowley responds by acquiescing not because he would just roll over and do anything for Aziraphale but because he recognises three things. Firstly that Aziraphale is pushing and that this is new and that this means something to him in the context of their relationship, secondly because he reluctantly accepts Aziraphale’s point that it isn’t really fair that he never does it, and finally because the request for him to do the dance isn’t about him refusing to help (Aziraphale was never certain he would), it’s about the fact that he’s broken Aziraphale’s trust by refusing to help (which is a slightly and very subtly different thing). To illustrate this, right before Crowley does the dance, just after he says “fine,” he gets this very brief, soft look on his face – this is him acknowledging to himself that Aziraphale deserves this dance, that he loves the angel and that he’s doing this because of both those things – he could have continued to insist on a no, he clearly has before, but this time he chooses not to.

I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

All right, what about the car thing?

What about it? Lending your car to the person you love is very normal. Ok so the car means more to Crowley than a normal car does to us, but the point still stands. Aziraphale is making a reasonable request here. Does he expect a yes? Absolutely, because he also knows it’s a reasonable request given where their relationship is. Does he flirt to get his own way? Hell, yes. Does Crowley know exactly what Aziraphale is playing at? Also a hell yes. And Crowley totally plays up to it, he’s not as opposed to it as he claims. He’s playing up his “no” and his grumpiness for effect, to encourage Aziraphale’s silly flirtiness. Look at the difference between this no and the no he gave Aziraphale earlier. There’s no anger here, there’s no real sense that he thinks Aziraphale is asking too much, he’s playing a role in their relationship and they’ve both played this game before. Look at that little slap of the hand, which Aziraphale responds to equally playfully. The game even continues after Muriel turns up at the shop, when it’s already quite clear that Crowley is going to let Aziraphale use the car (he’s already taking the plants out). Even in the back-room Crowley still teasingly grumbles about trains whilst Aziraphale smiles flirtily, and Crowley playfully withholds the car keys when Muriel interrupts them. They both know Aziraphale is going to end up with them, there’s no point to him not directly handing them over in spite of the interruption, it’s just an excuse to tease Aziraphale back. I mean, look at him – he spends the rest of the conversation wiggling his hips, grinning smugly and confidently handling the Muriel problem by talking about love. Aziraphale’s very overt reaction tells you all you need to know about the dynamic of this one.

Two can play at this flirting game, angel.

But he follows him around like a little puppy!

Well, yes and no. Sure he follows him around whilst he goes around asking all the shopkeepers to the meeting, but he does that because it’s fun for him. He’s curious, Aziraphale is acting oddly, doing something he’s never done before and Crowley wants to know what it is. He’s always found him fascinating – what silly and ridiculous thing is the angel up to now?

Also wanting to hang out with the person you are in love with isn’t at all strange or a sign you are in some sort of weird relationship where only one of you calls the shots. It’s normal. Crowley knows Aziraphale has a tendency to be silly or do unexpected things and he wants to watch him do them and also flirt with him whilst he’s doing them. Looking grumpy and reacting to Aziraphale’s silliness with disbelief is how Crowley flirts-without-flirting. Both of them know, understand and like that dynamic, and he has that role not because he’s unhealthy levels enthralled with everything Aziraphale does but because of the levels of trust they have spent millennia establishing.

What Crowley doesn’t do is wait around for Aziraphale. Look at the scene where Aziraphale daydreams about Job. In that scene he’s aware Aziraphale has something else to show him (the record clue), but he doesn’t stick around whilst Aziraphale ignores him. He could have sat down somewhere in the shop and waited – he’s got an eternity, waiting an hour or so is no big deal, but waiting around like that would suggest he really is a doormat, just waiting for the next time Aziraphale shows him any attention. He doesn’t do that, instead he goes off and does… well, something. There’s a lot of speculation over what it is, but whether he goes off to read Pride and Prejudice or just wanders off to find something more interesting to look at than the back of Aziraphale’s head, he’s clearly saying here that he has a life outside of whatever Aziraphale wants to do.

Also side note - you know what else he doesn’t do for Aziraphale? Adjust his driving style. Aziraphale clearly hates it, it makes him nervous and he even asks Crowley to change several times whilst they’re in the car together, but Crowley never does. This is how I am angel, accept it or don’t, but this is the line and I’m not changing this for you. Related to this is his refusal to accept Aziraphale altering the Bentley. Aziraphale tries to persuade him, “But it’s pretty,” and Crowley really isn’t having it. It’s another hard line and he’s not going to let Aziraphale cross it.

Anything else?

There’s a few other examples that I’ve seen listed in the, “Crowley does whatever Aziraphale says/wants” evidence piles. Things like Aziraphale assuming he’s going to get the drinks in the pub. Well, someone has to get them, and it makes perfect sense that they both assume it’s Crowley here because he’s the one more comfortable with pubs. Having a role that you take on within certain situations in a relationship is healthy and normal, imagine how exhausting it would be to debate who is going to do every little thing all of the time.

In the first series the coat cleaning is another example often cited, but this is something Crowley is perfectly happy to do. Aziraphale is flirting, which is delightful, and he’s not being asked to do anything difficult or dangerous. I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you, which is totally different from, you always ask, I always give, and you always take.

What about Aziraphale. When does he give?

All the damn time. We just don’t notice it as much because Crowley asks different things of him. His love language is acts of service towards others, but he doesn’t really ask or require them in return. Sometimes he gets them from Aziraphale anyway (Holy water anyone?) Also notably in the Globe Theatre when he’s clearly the one pushing the Arrangement, and Aziraphale more or less agrees to do his work for him (“That doesn’t sound like hard work”) even before he’s asked, before they’ve gone through their little dance of Crowley pushing and Aziraphale supposedly-reluctantly agreeing.

The other things Aziraphale gives Crowley are much more nuanced, and much less measurable to us as the audience, but he gives them constantly, or more or less constantly, throughout their relationship. He gives him acceptance (although he occasionally partially withdraws it, such as in the bandstand scene), his silliness (which is more important than it first appears), a safe space (not just the bookshop, but also a safe space for Crowley to air his real views without fear of consequence, which is important irrespective of whether or not he persuades Aziraphale to agree with him), his physicality (by 1826 he’s really in Crowley’s space so much of the time) and most importantly he gives Crowley himself. Crowley constantly pushes Aziraphale to grow as a person, it’s one of the original reasons he entertains developing a friendship with him. What he asks of Aziraphale is for Aziraphale to think – really think – about what he believes. And Aziraphale does so, but only for Crowley. Humans have constantly questioned religious beliefs throughout history, they’ve written books, made speeches and even had wars over religious doctrine and the problems, inconsistencies and absurdities within it. Crowley is saying nothing to Aziraphale that he won’t already have indirectly heard from humans and dismissed or ignored. But when Crowley says it, he thinks and he changes. That’s what Crowley asks of Aziraphale and it’s what Aziraphale gives him.

What was the point of all this waffle?

Well, honestly there isn’t much of one. Only that their relationship is much more balanced than some suggest and I think I just wanted to spell that out. It also has an implication for the final 15 minutes. There’s no way Aziraphale goes into that with some sort of fake confidence that he can persuade Crowley to follow him to heaven simply because Crowley always follows him – Crowley doesn’t, he has very clear limits that he enforces with Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows this. He might feel confident for other reasons (such as thinking Crowley will be happy to be an angel again) or something else entirely different might be happening (so many theories!) but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with thinking Crowley always does what he asks, because he very clearly doesn’t.

It's also why Crowley waits around afterwards to watch Aziraphale leave. It’s a way indirectly of saying one final time, I love you and I enjoy making you happy… but this is something I cannot give to you.

#good omens 2 #good omens #good omens meta #apology dance #ineffable husbands #ineffable fandom #acts of service #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #aziraphale #crowley

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carrotkicks · 4 months

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some Post-Scoop Mike + fill-in-the-blanks headcanons

more brainworms below the cut <3

OKOK about those Custom Night headcanons: Michael gets fired from Freddy's (1987 & 1992) because of "tampering with the animatronics" which only happens after the custom nights -> changing the animatronics AI settings is the aforementioned "tampering."

"Putting someone back together" assumedly means that the souls possessing each animatronic are in control of the robots without their endo's AI programming getting in the way. In Sister Location Michael put Elizabeth back together by removing Baby's AI chip, allowing her to "be free."

But in terms of Michael's current experience, he doesn't really know how remnant work yet (he doesn't know that to remove possession he needs to do things -- Happiest Day-- in the Flipside AND burn the metal) All he's got so far as to "The endo-programming has some kind of control over possession"

Which is why he tries changing the settings/internal components of the Animatronics of FNaF 1&2 instead of just going straight to arson like he does in FnaF 3

Then again Mike is like.. a cranky 50-something year old by then. he ain't having it with the clean and neat way.

If you guys have seen the Gibi's Good Idea Bad Idea mega lore video, the entire dual-narrative concept where Cassidy operates in the Flipside/atari minigame spirit realm while Mike works the Nights and fixes things in the physical realm. Literally makes me vibrate because YEAH that literally makes so much sense!!!! Golden Freddy and Mike working in parallel has always made sense. FNaF 1 being when they team up. Yeah.. yes. I just feel so insane about that concept, it's become a fundamental part of my understanding of this series.

Also I like his video because he ACTUALLY acknowledges the Flipside as a big part of the world in his version of the lore because the only thing i know of that actually does that is DSAF. f-ing dsaf...

#remnant technically has healing properties so there's a good chance Michael's reasonably healed back into a semi-normal human being #once fnaf3 and pizza sim roll around #Mike dressed as that silly player bear entrepreneur character is such a funny image.#'Mr Manager Freddy bit my child! Michael walks up to the troubled mother wearing a bear mask. Literally Freak Behaviour i love that.#doodles #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #helpy #foxy #freddy #bonnie #chica #.png

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petr1kov · 2 months

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it's actually insane to me how arya stark gets so often misinterpreted as a character when she's so easy to grasp. she often gets criticized for being a 'not like other girls' type of character when she's just supposed to be a tomboyish girl living in an extremely patriarchal society that refuses to accommodate or accept people like her without trying to fundamentally change them. it's literally just it, a very basic concept, but she always ends up getting treated like she's a female misogynist somehow when that is simply not in the text.

arya never looked down on other women for being feminine; rather, she looked down on herself for not being feminine enough. she doesn't reject traditionally feminine pursuits, she's simply not interested and not good at them when she tries. she's introduced literally trying and failing to sew, then running away almost crying when she gets made fun of for it. she knows she's compared unfavorably to her sister and she resents that, being the 'ugly' one, being constantly mistaken for a boy. later in the series, when she says she's 'not a lady', unlike her sister and mother, it's because she thinks she's beneath the title, not the opposite.

this happens in great part because of how game of thrones adapted her (badly, she literally says 'most girls are stupid' at one point lol), but it bleeds into discussions of the novels as well and it always annoys me. i also think this stems from the urge to defend sansa from the undeserved criticisms her character frequently gets, which makes people more inclined to interpret arya uncharitably in comparison, but that's missing the point. both arya and sansa suffer under the patriarchal society of westeros and pitting them against each other in this context is laughable. the main reason why they could never understand each other when they lived together was precisely that, the pressure they felt to be good proper ladies (with arya 'failing' and sansa 'succeeding' at it) driving them apart

#asoiaf #i still like arya a lot tbh i don't like that she's so often reduced to 'stock badass action girl number 219271' :(#plus the fact that she gets called like a pick me or something over not wanting to be a westerosi tradwife is. well

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foreverdolly · 7 days

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dolly announcement:

i just want to thank each and every person that has checked on me over the last eleven days. life has been crazy and i’m still very much in denial over everything. the loss of my father has changed me fundamentally… however i have never felt more motivated to make a life for myself that he would he proud of. with that being said i would like to gain back some semblance of my former life. writing has always been my passion, my escape and a way for me to connect with others! so my blog will go back to normal as of today!

i will also be updating/posting some fics very soon:

“savage bonds”: update will be on thursday at ten o’clock est. adult themes will be included in this chapter, so please read the special warnings before delving in.

“i just ride”: update will be saturday at ten o’clock est. adult themes and minor angst will be included in this chapter so please check the special warnings (the smut is sweet and loving though… unlike the fic above)

i will be introducing a new knight!austin butler x princess!reader mini series next saturday at ten o’clock est. it will comprise of four full length chapters. teasers for the first chapter will be posted up until the official day to get you all excited.

i am also working on a paul atreides oneshot that will be posted the saturday after next.

if i make any tweaks or additions to this fic schedule then i will let you all know before hand!

love love love you all.

-xoxo dolly

#fic updates #foreverdolly #we’re so back #we’re so fucking back #savage bonds #savage bonds fic #dune #dune part two #feyd rautha #feyd rautha smut #austin butler #austin butler smut

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oh-snapperss · 1 year

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the thing that gets me about the life series is that every single time a new series drops you have to go into it knowing that you’re going to be fundamentally changed in a few weeks. you have to watch betrayal and heartbreak and love and loss be portrayed in a completely unplanned storyline and then just… live with that. I think that’s part of why there’s so much anticipation and nervous energy right before episodes drop-it’s knowing you won’t be the same after.

#laurie thoughts #idk this made sense in my head does it make sense here #third life #last life #double life #trafficblr

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thebestofoneshots · 3 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.7 K Warnings: None Prompt: Some of Peter's ideas have very convenient fundamentals... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 33: More Than a Feeling

November 30th, 1976

You knocked on the door before you entered the class. Seraphina was standing beside her desk and nodded to let you in. You smiled and went straight to sit next to Remus. He had carried your bag and placed it on the seat next to his, to save a space for you. You smiled when you saw him and thanked him silently as Seraphina continued to talk.

She was going on about dark magic and how bIood is often involved in rituals of its kind “As you know, every living being has magic cursing through their system. But it’s not quite that it emanates from them but rather that you have the capacity to store it. Muggles don't have such an ability, which is why they cannot wield magic like we do. Some people can use this magic more than others, and some can learn to improve their capacity to store and to use the magic around them for spells.”

“Is this a first-year class?” A Hufflepuff girl scoffed behind you.

“And while this seems like basic knowledge, it goes a lot deeper than that, Miss Anderson. Those who wield magic for many years, start developing changes in their system. From simple things like being able to do wandless magic by developing their skill to use their body and hands to cast spells, to more elaborate ones, where you alter your bIood, or even your very soul, for example.”

There were whispers in the background after she said those words. Students knew how dangerous dark magic could be. They knew it could taint a soul and corrupt the finest of wizards. But most of them also knew that sometimes there was no other choice than to use them in self-defence. Especially with the whispers of the war, it was not unheard of that some wizards had used the unforgivables against deatheaters.

“In this class, we have seen hexes and curses that could protect you, we’ve talked about courses and magical contracts. Binding bonds and spells, etc. We’ve faced against some dangerous creatures and defeated them. We’ve duelled each other,” she threw you a look “and had some unfortunate accidents, but those are to be expected.”

She sighed, “Today we’ll be talking about an interesting but dangerous thing. BIood rituals. Anyone have any idea what I might be referring to?”

Lily raised her hand, “BIood rituals are the use of spells that require bIood, either a bIood sacrifice or just a few drops of someone’s bIood. They can be very dangerous and powerful, and if used to harm, they can even bind the person whose bIood has been used in the spell. They aren’t all dark magic, but they can be extremely dangerous.”

“Excellent, Miss Evans. 10 points for Gryffindor,” Seraphina said while Lily beamed. “Indeed, they can be extremely dangerous. But it isn’t dangerous all the time. In fact, some bIood magic is used in the simplest of things. For example on magical contracts.”

“Like the ones used in the past in the Triwizard Tournament,” Imogen said out loud.

“Indeed Miss Potts,” Seraphina said. “Your great-great-grandma was a participant, correct?”

“She won,” Imogen said proudly.

“That’s right, I apologise for my ignorance on the matter. But it is correct, to put their names in The Goblet of Fire the students had to give a drop of their bIood too, as a way to bind them, since once they were chosen there was no way out of the tournament.”

“An awful event if you ask me,” Lily whispered to Marlene, they were sitting right in front of you and Remus.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I think it was rather interesting, testing your magical skills against real but controlled threats, seems pretty cool to me.”

“Of course, you would say that,” Lily said as she shook her head.

“What? Why?” you asked with a small frown “I genuinely think that–”

“Because you tend to like dangerous things sweetheart,” Remus said as he gave you a look.

“Well that’s–”

“You play quidditch,” Marlene intervened, “And you are in the duelling club. You like danger, the adrenaline rush and all that.”

“You would love to be in the Triwizard tournament, wouldn’t you?” Lily added.

“Well I never said that but… I suppose I would try signing up for it.”

“There you go,” Lily said as she turned back around “It’s the kind of thing that would suck you in like nifflers drawn to shiny things.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten in much more trouble so far,” Marlene added as she too turned around.

Remus chuckled and you threw him a look. “Or… she’s just really good at not getting caught.”

You scoffed, diverted at that and shoved him lightly. He just gave you a teasing smile in response. You’d realised Remus had gotten the habit of teasing you a lot more often the past few days. At least as much as you used to tease him.

After that, you turned back to look at Seraphina, who kept talking about contracts by bIood, secret keepers, the Fidelius Charm and other kinds of magical bonds. Remus on the other hand, hadn’t quite gone back to the class. His mind had gone off, thinking about Lily’s words, what they implied and what he eventually said: Because you tend to like dangerous things, sweetheart.

Is it possible that that is why she…

“…do you agree Mr. Lupin?” Seraphina asked startling Remus out of his thoughts.

He looked at her wide-eyed and turned his gaze to you, throwing you a pleading look. You bit your lip and grabbed your quill, scribbling something on your parchment as quickly as you could and moving it towards him as casually as possible.

Remus scanned over your paper, but you hadn’t exactly been very specific with it either. It only said “BIood Bonds Bad?”

Remus swallowed and turned back to Seraphina “Well, I think it’s not possible to have a certain yes or no opinion on the matter, it’s a matter of how you use them and for what. For example, if you’re using a bond to bind someone to you against their will, to make an imperious stronger or to curse their bIoodline then we can all agree they’re terrible. Dark wizard stuff even. But if you use bIood for a magical contract to make sure both parts will fulfil it, or to deepen your connection with someone or even to protect someone by sacrificing yourself, then the line becomes a lot more blurry.”

Seraphina seemed pleased by his answer and nodded “Brilliantly said, Mr. Lupin. That is indeed why we are taking this class, and why I consider it so important. I want you to pick a position, either for or against, and then you’re going to work in teams to form a debate in which you’ll go over the good and bad of using bIood magic.”

People started to split the classroom when Remus turned to you “Thanks,” he muttered.

You smiled and turned to him. “What’s got that pretty head of yours in the clouds, hm?” you asked. Not even realising you had casually called him pretty, perhaps the veritaserum wasn’t completely out of your system yet, prompting you to say a lot more than usual.

“I was thinking of someone.”

“Someone… And may I know who that was?”

“No.”

You pouted, “But I helped you.”

“Are you gonna charge in the favour?”

“No, but telling me would be the polite thing to do,” you said with a shrug.

He pulled his head to the side as he sucked in some air with a bit of a shrug. “You’re outta luck. I’m not feeling very polite today.”

You bit your lip at that, thinking of a clever retort when you felt two arms wrap around your waist from behind and pull you to the owner’s chest. You knew it was Sirius the moment you felt his hands on you, not because you were an expert on his hands, but because you could smell his cologne –or perhaps it was his shampoo or just him– the moment he stepped on your personal bubble.

He then dug his face into your neck, you saw Remus advert his gaze, and you could have considered it politeness but, there was something else, you frowned looking at Remus as your eyes narrowed, and then Sirius pressed his lips to your neck, on the exact same spot he had sucked a hickey the past week and the scarlet flags lurking on the sides of your mind were washed away in an instant. After all, you were probably just imagining things, right?

“Sirius, what are you…?” You asked and he pulled his head away from your neck and pecked your cheek, his movement had been so sudden that you were startled into silence.

“You looked so pretty from afar,” he admitted “don’t know why Moony insisted on sitting so far from me and James.”

“You were being loud, you would’ve brought us in and we would have lost more house points,” Remus responded simply. Of course, that wasn’t the reason. He was feeling a little more jealous than normal that day. Probably because you had gone and kissed Sirius on what he considered his time. On potions, you were his partner, not Sirius’.

Sirius pouted, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he looked at Moony. “So what are we, for or against?” he asked.

“Hm? We’re all gonna be on the same team?” you asked.

“Well duh, why do you think we’re here,” he said as he pointed at James and Peter.

“Well... I think against is too easy,” you said.

“What’s wrong with easy?” Peter asked.

“It’s boring,” Remus and you replied almost at the same time.

“Nerds,” Sirius said, chin still resting, you pushed your shoulder blades back to nudge him and he just smiled, “but the best nerds,” he added then.

You rolled your eyes. “So we’ll be for?” Lily asked, “I think it’s a great choice.”

“I agree,” James said a little too fast. Lily threw him a look and he just shrugged and gave her a wink.

“Well then for it is,” Marlene said. “This is our side of the classroom anyway, isn’t it?”

Lily nodded, and you all started to dig through your books to try and find arguments that would back you up on the debate. Learning a couple of interesting things about bIood magic with the books that Seraphina had borrowed, some of them from the restricted section. And while most things in those books were warnings about the ill use of this kind of magic, it did point out some of the uses they had for good.

The debate had gone quite fast. And while the other team had great points in their favour, in the end, all of you put up a great front against them. You thought it had been really fun, and Mary mentioned it was a very muggle way of teaching, and that she remembered having gone through a similar exercise at her elementary school before Hogwarts. Which had been rather interesting since according to your knowledge, Seraphina was a pureblood.

Saturday, December 4th, 1976

It had been a grueling day. Apparition had finally started to involve the physical act of apparating and it was exhausting. Professor Dumbledore had taken each student one by one on an apparition so that they got the feeling of it. Some of the students that had never done it before ended up puking all over the grass. Mary had excused herself to go to the infirmary to get headache pills. Lily had thrown herself into the grass and stared at the sky for several minutes while taking deep breaths.

Peter had to swallow his own puke, and this wasn’t the first time he’d ever apparated in his life. Remus had done quite well. He had appeared on the other side of the grass with a straight face and had walked over to you calmly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said as he approached you “I thought it’d be worse.”

You frowned at that, you didn’t remember your first time apparating, since it had been when you were a baby, but your mom would always tell the story that you cried and cried for hours after it. And then it took a small dose of calming draught to get you to sleep that night. The next time they did it, the result had been similar. Eventually, you got used to it. But by the reactions of the students that had never done it, you figured there was no possible way that it “wasn’t that bad” which is why there was only one answer to Remus’ reaction. He was used to a lot worse.

You almost wanted to hug him after it, but you knew he’d think it weird, and if he knew it was because you felt bad about his situation, he’d think you were pitying him. And Remus Lupin hated to be pitied. Even if it wasn’t pity what you felt, you just thought your friend was so brave, and he had gone through so much already. It's silly, you thought, but you still wanted to hug him.

Thankfully you were quickly distracted by Sirius who went next, coming back to you from the other side completely unaffected by it, exactly like James had. The latter boasting a little about how good he was, saying it had to do with how much quidditch he practised when, in reality, had a lot more to do with how many times Effy and Fleamont had apparated him.

When it was your turn you approached Professor Dumbledore calmly. He called you by your last name and extended his arm for you to hook yours onto. “I understand you have apparated before, have you not?” He asked calmly.

You nodded “Yes sir, my parents have been apparating me since I was very small.”

“Correct. Have you ever tried to do it on your own?”

You shook your head in response, and then frowned… “Well… there was one time in my previous school in which I attempted to do it with a friend. I was young and… well we splinched badly. She had the worst of it. I had to stay at the infirmary for almost 3 whole days. She stayed for the entire week. We got detention for it.”

Dumbledor raised an eyebrow at that, “And you haven’t tried again since?”

You shook your head. “We promised we would enrol in the class together, and then I moved… so suppose there wasn’t really a reason not to try again anymore but… I’ve been rather busy since I got here.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a nod, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

You gave him an awkward smile in return and he tilted his head as if asking if you were ready, to which you nodded. In no less than a second, he was apparating the two of you to the other side of the field.

Your stomach turned upside down when you were on the other side, not because of the apparition, but because of the memories brought along with it. One second you were in class, with your arm locked on Professor Dumbledore, the next you were in the forest, launched across Barty’s shoulder against your will.

The memories flooded your head without you having a say on it and the moment you landed on the other side you were tense, seething with anger, panic and helplessness. You blinked and tried to steady your breath, your eyes seeking something to anchor to, and you spotted Sirius, who was talking to James with a huge smile on his face.

Two people noticed your restlessness. First, it was Dumbledore, who had seen the scenes of the memory you had accidentally projected into his mind as he apparated the two of you. You had been studying occlumency the last few days and you had unwittingly transmitted all of it straight into him. He turned to you, noticing how much less relaxed your grip on his arm felt.

“Are you all right?” He asked calmly. You somehow managed to nod, your eyes still trying to focus on Sirius’ laugh instead of the memories that plagued your mind. But Dumbledore didn’t let go of you yet. “I would suggest you take the rest of the day off.”

“What?” You asked, focusing your eyes on the old teacher “I’m fine I–”

“You seem to have a lot on your mind…” He added with a courteous nod. You looked at him with eyes opened wide, breath hitching at your throat when you realised what you had done. “And you’ve also had a rough couple of days.”

You looked at him, a serious look on your face, as you focused on your thoughts, trying to conceal what had happened the rest of that night, and attempting to leave out details like the phase of the moon and when you saw Remus. It didn’t feel like Dumbledore was trying to pry further, but you still had to try.

“I’ll send a note to Silvanus excusing you from his class. You’ve been doing quite well on it regardless.”

“You don’t… Will you not ask what happened?” you asked as you turned to him, “Sir,” you added as an afterthought, trying to maintain your politeness.

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, “If you wanted me to know, you would have come to me the day it happened and you wouldn’t be trying to conceal it. I trust in your judgement Miss (Y/LN). I’ve heard good things about you from more than one teacher.”

You swallowed. “Thank you,” you added with a courteous nod.

“Regardless, I do feel the need to tell you that if it ever happens again you shall come straight to me or to any other teacher to report it.”

“Of course, sir.” Frankly, you weren’t sure if you really meant that, but you said it regardless. He nodded one last time and allowed you to go.

The other person that noticed was way further from the two of you, he had also been talking to James when a familiar smell hit him. It was exactly the same way you smelled when you arrived at his door, barging it open with an iron poker in your hand. It was the smell of panic.

Remus turned to you in an instant, looking at the way you were desperately looking around the field until you focused on Sirius. He frowned, and then saw your entire interaction with Dumbledore, paying close attention and using his heightened senses to listen in to your conversation with the professor.

When you eventually walked back to your friends, you moved to stand in between him and Sirius. Neither James nor the other boy seemed to notice your discomfort, in fact, Remus wasn’t sure he would be able to acknowledge it if he hadn’t recognized the smell from that night. You had a cocky smile on your face and you were pretending to be as unaffected as Sirius and James had been. To anyone, you would look like you were perfectly fine, except for the haunting look in your eyes, perhaps. Remus wondered, if Sirius looked close enough, would he be able to notice too? As he stared at you laughing at some silly joke James had made about the weather, he started feeling the urge to hug you. Of course, he wouldn’t do it, he had no excuse, and you were dating Sirius, not that it was that hard to forget, you were almost always all over each other.

But he also knew that if he hugged you, you would know he noticed, and then you would think he was pitting you, and you hated to be pitied. But Remus did not pity you, no, he was absolutely stunned by how well you had played your feelings off, hiding them under your skin so skillfully that the only reason he noticed had been because he could still smell them.

Regardless, Remus Lupin didn’t hug you. He resisted the urge to place his hands around your face like he had done on the shack, or to bring you close to his chest like he had when he cuddled Vixen. He resisted because he knew you weren’t his to hug, but that didn’t stop him from inching closer to you. To stand so close it was almost ridiculous the way your shoulders would rub against his as you laughed, or pretended to laugh, or attempted to do it by drowning the memories with the sound of the other boys’ laughs. He wasn’t sure which of the three it was.

When the class was over, you told the boys you’d go make sure Lily and Mary were alright, that you would check on Mary at the infirmary with Mars after taking Lily to the room. James tried to offer himself for the job but Remus stopped him. He knew you were looking for a way out and into the comfortable silence of probably the common room or the library or somewhere.

Even if you were a lot more relaxed now, the smell lingered just a bit, like your emotions were threatening to get out. Remus wanted to go with you, to be there for you like you had been after all the moons since you met him. But he also understood the need for time alone and time to think, and there was something in your eyes that told him that that was exactly what you needed.

You waved the boys goodbye and walked alongside Marlene and Lily to the room. You both were holding the red-head, arms linked to each other as a way to help her keep balance.

“It feels like I’ve been on a boat for hours,” Lily complained.

You gave her a sympathetic look “I think I’ve got something for nausea on my cupboard,” you mentioned “Mom sent it over when she heard I fell off my broom.”

“But that… you didn’t fall because of nausea,” Marlene said with a frown.

“Yeah… I didn’t want to tell her I jumped off of it, to get the snitch,” you said with a grimace. Lily was looking between the two of you, trying to focus on the conversation as much as possible. But she was still dizzy.

Eventually, the three of you made it to the room, both you and Marlene helped Lily to the bed, and then shut the curtains to make her feel more comfortable. You were rummaging through your trunk, trying to find the potion when Marlene said she’d go check on Mary. In the end, you decided to split, Marlene would check on Mary while you stayed with Lily.

“You’re going to miss class,” Lily complained as you walked towards her with the potion finally in your hands. You gave her a look; as if she hadn’t missed a bunch of classes for you in the past week. She pouted in response “But who’s gonna give me their notes?”

You smiled as you sat on the bed and placed your hand on the back of her head and gently brought it forwards to make it easier for her to take the potion. “Remus will be in that class, we can get his notes.”

“With his handwriting?” Lily asked when she finished the potion.

You gave her a look “It’s not that bad!”

“When he charms it.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you told her as you passed a small candy to her, the nausea potion had always been a bit bitter.

She opened her mouth instead of taking it in her hands and you just placed it on the spot. “Is apparating always going to be this bad?” she asked you as she savoured the candy.

You shook your head “It gets better,” you promised “I’m sure you’ll be top of the class in no time.”

She almost snorted at that. “What are you planning to do?”

You shrugged in response, “Maybe I’ll read ahead,” you said, “or just some fiction.”

“I miss the telly,” she said with a pout. You smiled at that, while you did not have a television at home, you had encountered one on your walks through Muggle London and had been absolutely fascinated by it, the little screens showing moving pictures just like magical portraits but instead of having a defined person –or people– they had all sorts of stories on them. Including some of the movies you had seen in the cinema before.

“Want me to read you something?”

She gave you a look, and then extended her hand and passed a book over to you– a copy of “The Lord of the Rings”.

“Oh, I love these books!” You said with a smile.

“It’s my third time reading them actually,” she said “I read them before I came to Hogwarts and I always felt somehow connected to them,” She told you before she yawned. You smiled, realising the potion was already working its magic.

You flipped through the pages until you found her bookmarker. It was a small blue wildflower, already dry, you took it in your hands and eyed it carefully, Lily looked up at it sadly, “Sev gave it to me a while ago,” she said casually “I can’t bring myself to throw it away.”

You gave her a look and placed it back on the book, you didn’t exactly like Snape, and you knew why she was sad about it, but you also understood how hard it must have been for her, that her best friend changed so much that he turned against her. He had even called her a slur, a ridiculous word the pureblood assholes had invented, to say when they needed to feel superior.

Lily saw the way you carefully placed the flower near the back of the book and nodded as you started narrating from where she had left off. Frodo and Sam had just met Legolas when you heard some light snoring from the girl. You smiled and closed the book, taking a bookmarker of your own instead of using the flower again, that way when Lily opened the book, she wouldn’t have to think of Severus, even if the blue flower was still safely tucked in the back.

You gave the girl one last look, tucking in her bed sheets with a swish of your wand before walking back towards your own bed. You stayed there for a few minutes, taking your charms book and skimming through it before setting it on the side and taking an occlumency one instead. Nightshade had given it to you after you asked, and after the ridiculous way in which you had projected all your memories to Professor Dumbledore, you knew you had to continue studying it.

You looked at Lily one last time and decided a change of setting would be the best, especially since the low-lit space you had created for her comfort wasn’t helping the headache threatening to form as you continued attempting to read the book through squinted eyes. Besides, holding your wand up with Lumos had gotten annoying.

Exiting the room a few minutes later, you walked straight to the common room and plopped down on the sofa, your head towards the fire so you could properly read the pages. You had been so engrossed in the book, you didn’t hear the portrait open, and you certainly didn’t notice Sirius walking all the way towards you.

He looked at you as you read the book, moving his hands in the air to try and get your attention a couple of times, but when it proved to be useless, he decided to get your attention in a different way. He leaned closer to you and climbed on top of you, letting his head fall on your stomach as the rest of his body settled over yours. You moved the book to the side and gave him an incredulous look as he snuggled up against you.

“You’re heavy,” you said as you playfully attempted to push him off.

“Oh, so you only realise I’m here to try and kick me off?” he teased, looking up at you. “No hey Puppy how was class? Why do you look so tired? No, just ‘You’re heavy.’”

You giggled at his words, “How was class, Puppy?”

He hummed unsatisfied in response, easily hearing the sarcasm laced in your words “Awful. Kettleburn had us clean the pens of the Nifflers. They’re adorable until you have to clean things up and smell their stool.”

“And you’ve come to lay on top of me after that?” You asked as you tried to push him off again, but he just wrapped his arms around your torso tighter.

“Yes, because you smell nice,” he mumbled as he dug his head on the sweater you were wearing -Remus’ sweater-, “and James used a cleaning spell on me so don’t try to push me off again.”

“But you’re heavy,” you said with a small pout.

“Not true, you love it,” he said simply, refusing to move. You rolled your eyes but allowed him to stay. Even if Sirius was actually just slightly heavy, there was a part of you that enjoyed being cuddled by him like this a little too much. And whatever spell James had used was perfect, Sirius smelled like nothing but himself. A smell you already found intoxicating in and of itself. You sighed and took the book again. “Wait, really?”

“What?” You asked as you moved the book to the side to look at his face.

“Your gorgeous boyfriend is right on top of you, pretty much begging for a cuddle and you prefer reading… What is that?” he asked as he pulled the book from your hands to read the title “Occlumency?! Really? Is occlumency more interesting than me?” He added as he threw the book back, instead of falling straight on the floor, which you would have definitely reprimanded him for doing, it floated down towards one of the side tables in a gentle motion.

You stared at the book a little impressed, especially when you turned back to Sirius and realised his wand was tucked in the pocket of his pants. He was surprisingly good at wandless magic, that you knew, but it never failed to impress.

You turned to him with a small smirk as you leaned your hand towards his head “Sirius if you want my attention you just have to ask for it,” you said as you dug your hand into his hair.

He hummed again, closing his eyes peacefully as he felt your fingers run over his scalp, an action that reminded you a lot of how Padfoot –back when you thought he was Fang- had reacted to you petting him. You wondered if it was a dog thing or a Sirius thing. You saw him take a deep breath as he buried his head deeper into your stomach.

“I’ll pretend that isn’t weird,” you teased with a smile.

He turned to you with a reproachful gaze. “It helps the stool smell go away,” he said with a frown.

You just laughed, also being a canine made you understand the appeal of smells, especially his smell, but you were never as obvious about it, besides, there was nothing as fun as teasing Sirius… Which reminded you of that talk you’d had with Peter after the quidditch game. You reached for the nape of his neck and gently turned his head to look at you, you saw the way his nose brushed on your stomach and how the tip bent just a little as he turned your eyes to yours, “You know… the other day I was talking to Peter–”

Sirius winced “Don’t tell me it’s about one of his ridiculous ideas because–”

“Hey listen!” you told him as you smacked him lightly, “Peter is smart too.” Sirius only raised his eyebrows “Sometimes,” you added. “He’s good at Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures.”

“And your point?”

You rolled your eyes. “He said something and… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” you had stopped scratching his scalp for a second and he nudged your hand by moving his head for you to get back to it, much like a dog would. You held back a laugh and continued, “he said that when their parents got him a kitten, they had to rub the kitten onto the cat to make him accept him.”

Sirius frowned, completely lost in the point you were trying to make. “Is this your way of trying to convince me to get a kitten? Because I don’t like them.”

You laughed. “No, I have enough pets with you lot being my friends.” He looked offended and leaned his head to give a soft, playful bite to your arm. You just smiled, biting your own lip. “Point proven.”

He scoffed and placed his head on top of the arm he had bitten as he looked at you straight in the eyes, you almost lost your train of thought as you stared at him, always fascinated by the fact that someone so beautiful would be looking at you, with such a gaze.

“So what’s with the cats then?” He asked, he was looking at you in a way that made your knees weak, and you were happy you were lying on a sofa rather than standing.

“Well, it’s a smell thing,” you said as you broke eye contact, focusing on your hands on his hair to try and speak properly. “Peter said it’s something about getting the kitten to have the smell of the pack so the larger cat wouldn’t attack him.” Sirius nodded. “He then mentioned that… Moony had honed in my smell. That even on the first moon of the year he had been restless, and had been really hard to deal with.”

“Yeah, he was a bitch,” Sirius said as he nodded “Kept wanting to go in the castle.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. “So Peter suggested that we do the same.”

Sirius arched his eyebrows at you as he passed his tongue over his lips, clearly amused at your suggestion. “Sweetheart, if what you wanted was to rub against me, you could have just said that,” he said with a small smirk and a suggestive look.

You scoffed and swatted him on the head, “Sirius focus! He said I could rub onto you or James.”

“No!” he said all too fast, a flash of jealousy in his eyes.

You giggled, “Well… technically he said Padfoot and Prongs. He offered himself too but said he was too small.”

“Ugh…Don’t put that image in my head!” He said with a frown. And then turned to you again “What about Remus? Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to rub on him?”

You nodded, “Yeah, but it doesn’t seem very clever to go rub onto Moony when he could just reach down and close his jaws around me, does it?”

Sirius frowned, “Not Moony, Remus.”

“You think that would work? You don’t smell the same as Pads.”

“Why, been smelling me much?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, “Padfoot smells a lot more like a dog.”

“Are you suggesting I stink?”

“Your words, not mine.” He pinched your side with his hand and you laughed. Of course, you didn’t think he smelled bad, in fact, Vixen seemed to be just as drawn to that smell as you were by Sirius’.

“Anyway, Remus smells like Moony.”

“Been smelling him much?” you teased now.

He gave you a look, “I live with him you moron.” He omitted the fact that yes, he had, and that Remus had been clouding his thoughts for a while now.

You sighed, “Well, I suppose we could turn into Vixen and Pads and cuddle him then. You think he’d be up for it?”

He looked to the side as if thinking about it, “Well… If anyone can convince him, it’s us.”

You nodded in agreement. And then you remembered, “Talking about Remus…”

“Mhm?”

You sighed, “I’ve been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas Party.”

“Congratulations?” he said a little confused, “What’s that got to do with Moons?”

“He’s never been invited.” He hummed in response as if to get you to elaborate, you continued to brush your nails on his scalp, he could feel your nervousness in the way the patterns you made had gone a little faster. “I want him to go. He… seemed a little harsh when I suggested that he must have been invited many times because of how clever he is.”

“He won’t like it, he’ll think it’s pity.”

“No, but… I think he deserves it! More than me even!”

Sirius shook his head “It’s not just about cleverness, I was invited in my first year, all of my cousins had been members of the Slug Club. Of course, I didn’t go.”

You sighed, “Yeah, maybe my father being who he is has a lot more to do with my invitation than anything.”

“That’s not… it’s not what I was trying to say…”

You sighed again. “I know, Puppy.” You then turned to him, “Would you mind if I invited him?”

“Instead of me?” He teased.

“Of course if you don’t want to I would never, I just–”

Sirius laughed, “I couldn’t care less about the Slug Club, in fact, Walburga might be pleased if I were to go, so I think it’s great if you take Remus instead.” He really tried not to think of how good the two of you would look all dolled up for the party together.

“You think they know about us?” You asked with a frown.

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” Sirius said and then shrugged, “If anything I bet they’re pissed you’re dating me and not Regulus.”

You laughed at that, and then remembered the way Walburga had stared at you when she introduced their children, “Imagine if they knew I’m part-fairy.”

“You what?” Sirius asked, pushing himself from you to look straight at your face.

“You… I didn’t tell you?”

“No!”

“I thought I had,” you said with a guilty-looking smile “It’s from my mum’s side, my great grandma was a fairy, but they decided to keep it secret.”

“That must be why you’re so pretty,” He said as he leaned back against you “And so good at flying, it’s kind of an unfair advantage when you think about it.”

You smiled, you knew Sirius wouldn’t judge you for being part fairy, but there was something about the way in which he took it, like it was the most normal thing in the world –rather similar to the way Remus had– that made you want to plant a kiss on those pretty pinky lips of his.

“How do we convince Remus of the cuddling?” You asked then, your mind going back to the other boy.

Sirius smirked, “We don’t convince him. We surprise him,” he said as he stood up and extended his hand for you to take, a mischievous look on his face that made him look like the most alluring thing you had ever seen in your life. You almost gaped at him as you grabbed his hand and he pulled you off the bed and dragged you to the stairs of the boys’ dormitories.

Remus Lupin hadn’t had the best of days. He had attempted to help the boys clean the pens but the animals kept drifting apart from him and trying to escape their little space because of his presence. Eventually, Professor Kettleburn had asked him to step out of them and help him sort out some of the food, dividing it into smaller bags for the younger students to be able to feed them later on.

Remus was already used to not being able to be close to some creatures, they didn’t exactly like him much, probably because they could smell the wolf in him. Of course, it wasn’t like that all the time, in fact, the fireworms he was still co-parenting with you seemed to have gotten a liking to him, although he wasn’t sure if it was because they couldn’t quite think properly or if the real reason was because a fireworm could be easily as destructive as he was.

Either way, Remus hated sorting the food, it was a boring, tedious task that he felt brought no new knowledge to him, but that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was that, because it was such a simple and mundane task it offered no mental challenge, which meant his brain was idle. And of course, since his brain was idle, he couldn’t stop thinking about things he’d rather not think about at all. Let alone in depth.

It had all started as he was serving the second bag, his brain had gone back to the previous class, he’d seen how worried you were. While you hadn’t told Remus and the boys, or anyone the exact details of what had happened that night, you had mentioned Barty apparating in front of the Shack. Remus knew the boy was talented, but he didn’t know that he was that talented. He had no idea how to apparate yet, although after doing it with Dumbledore he thought he could learn how to do it easily enough.

He had also linked the smell from that night exactly to the way you smelled that day. He’d noticed he’d become a lot better at isolating your smell from the rest of people after the incident. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the lingering smell of bIood that always seemed to be carried alongside you after you had been wounded; because he had been so close to your animagus in the infirmary or because his obsession had just gotten that bad, but it was happening. Quite similar to the way he could easily isolate Sirius’ smell. But smell sometimes changed a little, he remembered easily being able to know when Sirius had snogged someone by the sheer smell he exuded afterwards, it always pissed him off and he had to play it out, especially after he realised it was because he too wanted to snog him. He could also tell when the rest of the boys had done similar things, but that had never bothered him.

But the fact that Remus had been able to identify the exact smell from that night, meant you were probably reliving what had happened, which had, in turn, put him just as on edge as he had been then. The same worry filled his insides, the same need to protect. It had taken a monumental struggle not to instantly sprint your way when the smell first hit him, and it had been even harder to hold back from hugging you when he could see damn well you could use one. And Sirius was too busy boasting with James to notice, not that you weren’t a brilliant actress, heck you hid it almost as well as he hid his aches and pains after a moon. But there had been few people he couldn’t quite hide it from. Turns out there were also people you couldn’t hide it from: that being Remus.

Remus attempted to focus on something else, and he looked up to try and find some kind of interesting animal, student drama or something, but instead, what he found was Sirius’ intense gaze. His eyes, which looked more blue than grey that day because of the sun that shone so brightly over them as they cleaned, were focused on Remus. Remus almost scowled, thinking Sirius was looking at him out of pity, but then he noticed that Sirius hadn’t quite realised Remus was looking at him yet. When they locked eyes, Sirius continued to shamelessly stare at Remus, looking to be rather deep in thought as he stared at his friend, as if he were trying to solve a riddle.

While Sirius didn’t look particularly angry as he stared, Remus was slightly intimidated by him, was there any chance he had noticed the way he had been looking at you? The way he kept staring at him when he wasn’t looking? Sirius wasn’t particularly oblivious to the way people looked at him, to the way girls looked at him. Was it possible that he was able to link those gazes to the ones Remus often threw his way?

Regardless of how intimidating “the Black” stare could be, Remus held his stance, staring at Sirius with as much curiosity and moxy as he could muster. Sirius seemed amused by that, biting his lip in the most lascivious manner Remus had ever seen in his life and then sending a wink in Remus’ direction before focusing on cleaning again.

Remus was glaring at Sirius’ back as the boy turned his head, how dare he wink at me like that? he thought as he mentally scoffed. Needless to say, Remus wasn’t able to get Sirius off his head after that, especially Sirius’ soft-looking lips. Fucking Sirius Black and his fucking pretty lips. He’s an arse who knows how pretty he is and uses it to his advantage. What a prat! Why must he be so fucking pretty?!?

By the end of the class, Remus’ head was in pain from how many thoughts were going ‘round inside of it, he might as well be a merry-go-round with how much it was swiveling. He had a headache, he was full of dirt and animal food and he was still pissed at Sirius who had looked at him the way he did.

James had gone chasing behind Lily with the excuse that he had to go check on her and Sirius had approached Remus right after. Peter was lost somewhere, but Remus couldn’t care less at that point. He was still pissed at Sirius, for absolutely no reason at all.

“You alright?” Sirius asked with a frown, and fuck did he look adorable.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Remus said sharply, “I think I’ll go to the library.”

“You have a headache and will go to the library?” Sirius asked puzzled, “Doesn’t seem very clever, why don’t you come with? I’m going to try and find Kit, I’m surprised she didn’t come back to class after taking Lily to the dormitories.”

Remus scoffed, and coughed a bit to cover it up when he realised you wouldn’t want Sirius to know you had been affected because of that night, “Wouldn’t want to third wheel on quality time with your girlfriend.”

Sirius threw him a wary glance as if he had noticed something was wrong with his friend, “You’re never a third wheel Remus, we love having you around.”

Remus bit the side of his cheek to hold himself from snapping at Sirius, he had no logical reason to do it, any normal person would be more than happy to spend time with his best friends all together, but Moony was a jealous beast and sometimes it sipped all the way into Remus, “I have to prepare my potions essay.”

There was no potions essay, he had finished it a few nights ago when you had polyjuiced yourself into James to take his punishment for him, not that Sirius knew.

“And you should cuddle her more,” Remus said almost bitterly. When Sirius gave him a quizzical look he tried to calm his nerves again. “I think It still hurts,” he said “I saw her clutching her arm earlier.”

Sirius nodded and Remus stared at him as they parted ways, grumbling something about Sirius being unbelievable as he walked to the library. There he tried to find a quiet spot, but after finding none, because all students seemed to be more focused on gossip than on books, he decided to retire to the Prefects’ Bathroom, to try and relax. Unfortunately, when he went he walked in on none other than Alice Becket making out with a Ravenclaw boy from 7th. She seemed surprised when she saw Remus but he just shut the door.

Remus didn’t care much about Alice snogging other boys, he had used her as much as she was using him, and he knew they weren’t exactly exclusive, but he had already been pretty riled up at the moment, and that was like the last nail in the coffin. Thankfully Alice didn’t follow behind him as he stormed through the hall towards his Common Room. He hoped to the heavens that he wouldn’t find you and Sirius snogging on the couch because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain his sanity if he did.

Thankfully, as he walked in, he realised it was mostly empty. There were a few first and second-year kids talking, and reading, while most of the older kids had probably gone to the Hogsmeade outing after class. He walked up to his room and opened the door warily as he looked around. He frowned as he took in the smell of the room. It looked empty, but there was a lingering scent of you and Sirius all over the place. The thought that you had both shagged there earlier made him even more uncomfortable as he let himself fall head first on the bed and groaned into his pillow.

For some fucking reason that also had the smell of you and Sirius. Which, while initially pissed him off, the more he let the smell penetrate him, the more relaxed he started to feel. He was about to let his mind roam with thoughts that he normally didn’t allow himself to have, with all the stress of the day he figured he deserved a break. He took a deep breath and remembered how you and Sirius had sounded back when you were kissing the day you made the potions for the prank. Remus was just starting to get in the mood when he felt his bed dip on the side. He turned around horrified, just to find Padfoot jumping like a happy puppy.

“What in the bIoody–” He started and then felt the bed dip on the other side. A small red fox had also jumped into his bed. She was wagging her tail as excitedly and happily as Padfoot “Vixen?” he asked, confused. He could have sworn he saw the fox smile.

The fox and the dog threw a look at each other before the fox climbed on top of Remus’ chest. The dog leaned in closer and rested his head on the fox’s back. Remus looked horrified at the two of them, horrified because he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more comfortable –perhaps when he was reading and you were all mushed together on his bed– and horrified because he had no idea what the hell the two of you were planning.

He wasn’t even sure what to say, or if he should say anything, but it pissed him off not knowing what the hell the two of you were up to so he put on the angriest face he could muster “If you two pair of twats don’t get off me in the next five seconds, I will hex you!”

Padfoot stared at him and leaned his head on your back again, only tilting it to the side when Remus started to count down. Sirius had been stared at with that angry, threatening face hundreds of times throughout his life. He’d do something silly near the moon, and Remus would put on that same face and scowl at him, he’d get caught after a prank and Remus would give him the scowl, he’d snog a random girl and leave her and Remus would also get pissed, at this point, Sirius was almost immune to it. You, on the other hand, had only seen Remus angry at the Shack, and while it wasn’t exactly the same face he was making, it did make you recoil, even if it was just a little.

“Three… Two…” he kept counting, Remus was staring directly at you, and you wriggled out of the sandwich Remus and Padfoot had you on until you fell on the bed. You rolled over your back until you were staring at Remus, weight on your front paws as if you were ready to jump and attack, but there was something playful about it, as if you were challenging Remus. Padfoot on the other hand had just laid his head on Remus’ chest again, looking as unbothered with Remus as Sirius often was.

Remus attempted to push him off of him but Padfoot didn’t budge. Of course, Remus wasn’t using his full strength and Sirius knew that too, which gave him more confidence to stay right where he was. Besides, Remus was warm and comfortable and he smelled awfully nice that day.

“Sirius, get off! BIoody hell why are you both attacking me like this?!?” Padfoot barked softly and you leaned closer again, but Remus gave you a warning glance “Either one of you explains to me what the fuck is going on or–” Padfoot leaned forward and licked Remus’ cheek, an action awfully reminiscent of the Halloween party. Remus pushed him off his face “That’s fucking gross!”

Regardless, the dog didn’t seem to care and licked Remus’ hands as he attempted to push him off. You watched the entire scene diverted when the werewolf turned to you, a pleading look on his face. “Little Witch, please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You felt genuinely tempted to ignore him and just lick his face like Sirius had done, but there was something about Remus’ pleading expression that made you want to do whatever he wanted. You turned back into yourself, not quite measuring your stance and ended up laying beside Remus, almost like that time you were reading “The Godfather” except this time around your head was leaning on his arm. But rather than stepping away, like Remus expected you to do, you just got yourself comfortable, which was a very Sirius thing to do. Padfoot had laid his paws on Remus’ torso and licked your face once too, which had you laughing merrily as you lay in Remus’ arms.

Remus was rather tense, feeling like he might be third-wheeling but also awfully welcomed in between the two of you. “Little witch?” he asked again, an edge of panic in his voice as Padfoot continued trying to lick his face and yours.

“Peter told us we had to cuddle you.”

“What?!” Remus asked as he frowned, now more confused than he’d been before.

Sirius transformed back into himself, he was sitting on the bed, leaning slightly onto Remus as his hands were pressed on the other boy’s abdomen like they had done when they were paws. “Well technically, he said Vixen had to cuddle Padfoot and Prongs.”

“You’re not making anything clear,” Remus said as he motioned to stand but both you and Sirius held him down. You by placing your hands on his arm and Sirius by leaning onto him just a little more.

“It’s because of the smell,” you explained. “He said Moony had honed on my smell and that he kept chasing after me since the first moon.”

Yeah, Moony isn’t the only one who honed onto your smell, Remus thought.

“And he said if we rub our smell on her and she smells like the pack then Moony wouldn’t chase her anymore.”

Remus looked at you horrified, “You wouldn’t be thinking of setting a foot out on the next full moon, would you?”

“Well of course I will,” you said simply. “We can’t have Moony continue being all reckless chasing after me or whatever, he’s hurting himself, and you in the process.”

“We can’t have him hurt you either,” Remus said sharply.

“And that, my dear friend, is why we are going to cuddle you,” Sirius said with an air of finality.

“I… I don’t know about–”

“We have to try, Rem!” You said lifting yourself and turning to him, a little more serious now. You sighed. “I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself because of me. And if what I need to do to fix it is cuddle the shit out of you and Padfoot then, I’ll take one for the team.”

Sirius barked a laugh after that and shoved you lightly on the side “Oh shut up, Vixen loves cuddles!”

“Not from dirty smelly dogs,” you teased.

Sirius straight up gasped at that, looking rather amused. “Oh, you little minx!” He said as he turned into Padfoot again and jumped over you, licking your face mercilessly. He kept barking in between licks. And both you and Remus knew exactly what he was saying even if neither of you spoke dog.

“Take that back, Take that back!” Padfoot said with each bark.

After laughing so much your stomach started to hurt, you complied. “All right, alright! You’re not a dirty smelly dog, Pads!”

The dog barked satisfied, cooing his head in a smug manner that would have allowed anybody to figure out that he was Sirius and not a normal dog. You had reached up and started rubbing the back of his ears, gently scratching. Remus, without thinking much about it, joined you, your fingers brushing against each other as you both petted Padfoot.

“That’s right, he’s a good boy, isn’t he?” Remus teased. Sirius was about to protest, but the boy scratched the dog in a way he knew would shut him up; and rather than complain, he started wagging his tail behind him as he leaned onto Remus’ touch.

“By Merlin! You have to teach me that!” You said with a surprised expression as you watched the way Padfoot leaned onto Remus, who had somewhat of a smug smile on his face. “You think it would shut Sirius up too?” The dog barked your way and was about to jump over you again when Remus scratched the same way again and he instantly melted back onto the other boy. You giggled at that. “You’re brilliant, Rem!”

Remus almost beamed at that, while the stress of the day wasn’t getting relieved the salacious way he thought it would, cuddling his two crushes, even if they would be in their animal form, might as well be a lot better. As long as he didn’t think much of it. Besides it had been your idea –technically Peter’s– which meant you actually wanted to cuddle him.

And while earlier, at least at the Halloween Party he had shone away from your touch, after he felt the way Sirius’ hands and yours brushed over his body, it felt a lot less intimate to cuddle Padfoot and Vixen, even if it was just as nice, and even if you still hadn’t turned to Vixen. You were too entertained petting Padfoot and the dog seemed rather content, even as his girlfriend was cosied up against his best friend. Head on his shoulder and shoulder –the not wounded one– against his torso.

He knew Sirius to be jealous, he had been jealous of Tom several times, but he seemed to be feeling nothing of the sorts as you cuddled up against Rem. And boy were you a lot closer to him than you’d ever been to Tom, which he was really trying not to think much about.

Remus stared at the both of you, the dog and the girl, all comfortable, and all over him as he wondered if Sirius just didn’t consider him a rival at all. He had never seemed jealous of how close you and he were. How many projects and classes you had together, how much time you spent with each other. Remus, like he often did, started to overthink it. Was he that bad-looking that Sirius wouldn’t even consider the possibility of him stealing his girl? Was it that impossible to believe you could like him back?

No, you had called him pretty several times, you had mentioned he was hot too, Sirius had mentioned the same thing. If he didn’t know any better he’d think it had been flirting. But neither of you would flirt, you were too bIoody in love with each other to ever even consider another person. But Sirius was definitely a jealous man. Jealous except when… it comes to me.

You looked up at Rem when you realised he had stopped petting Pads, you only noticed because the dog kept bumping his head on the way to his hand as if asking to continue what he’d been doing, when you saw the frown on his pretty face, his brows knitting together as he was in deep thought, you spoke “What’s got your knickers in a twist? Is cuddling us that uncomfortable?”

“What?!” Remus asked as you brought him back, trying not to look at your lips as you laid so close to him, “No, no! I was thinking of– hold up! Aren’t I supposed to be cuddling Padfoot and Vixen?”

“You are,” you said with a shrug.

“I’m cuddling Padfoot and my little witch,” he said amused.

Not one person in the room questioned the way Remus had said “my” prior to Little Witch. In fact, not the dog, not the girl, not even the small portrait in the back –that was known to be rather outspoken– even questioned the wording of the sentence, as if you all knew, on a subconscious level, that it was true.

You gasped, not realising you had completely forgotten to turn back, too entertained on petting the dog to think about it “You’re bIoody right!” you said as you leaned forwards brusquely, Remus really tried not to feel bad about the cold breeze that instantly hit him after your bodies separated from each other. “Must have been really tired, I was about to fall asleep.”

And you really had been, not that you knew why you were so sleepy. It seemed the cosiness both boys brought over soothed you to sleep.

Padfoot barked your way, you didn’t have to be a dog expert to know he was making fun of you. He poked his head on Remus’ hand again, as if to prompt him to continue his ministrations, and you looked at him, a spark of jealousy lighting inside you, not because you didn’t like Remus petting your boyfriend, but because you wanted in on the petting too. In an instant, you turned to Vixen, shrinking to the middle of the bed and walking your way toward Remus’ chest, and pushing Padfoot’s head just slightly to the side, as if you owned the place.

The dog nibbled your ear in protest but ended up letting you do whatever the hell you wanted, placing his head on top of your back once you looked like you had gotten yourself comfortable. He made sure to brush his snout all over your smaller body. Partly because he wanted to make sure he was rubbing you with the scent of the pack, but mostly because he wanted to see if he’d get a reaction out of you. You only leaned closer to Remus, closing your eyes as you got yourself even more comfortable. The boy, the only human left in the room, smiled and placed a hand over your small head.

Padfoot looked like he was about to protest over the loss of contact, Remus without even opening his eyes mumbled “It’s Vixen the one that needs the smell of the pack, not you Pads.”

The dog huffed in response, he too wanted to be pet by Remus, but he also knew Remus was right, so he just nuzzled his head closer to Vixen’s body as you nuzzled your own against Remus’ hand. Remus was enjoying the way the two of you warmed him more than almost anything he’d ever enjoyed in his life. Perhaps only rivalled with that one kiss he had given you and the one he had shared with Sirius years past.

And while the nagging little voice in his head screamed at him to run, to leave before he knew what heartbreak really was after being able to be so close and yet not being able to have either of you, he decided to ignore it.

Remus would wallow in the feeling of the two of you nuzzling against him, even if it was just this once.

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A/N: Well, well, well, but look who's all about the cuddling? Also GUYS! Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

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takerfoxx · 3 months

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So, something sort of amusing occurred to me the other day about how Gundam: the Witch from Mercury ended.

A lot of the time, there's a difference between what the character wants at the start of a story and what they need, and a lot of their journey involves realizing the latter and having to give up the former.

However, in the case of the Rembran/Samaya family, everyone pretty much ended up with exactly what they wanted at the start of the show. Yes, there were changes, and they all grew and matured as people, but they're still fundamentally the same people who also got both what they wanted and what they needed.

Miorine is the most obvious. She started the series as a corporate girlboss, and she ended the series as a corporate girlboss. She wanted to escape her father's control, take control of her life, and run away to Earth, and she achieved all of those things. She's just a more rounded, healthier, and happier person, largely on account of her wife. But she also totally became a massive corporate powerhouse, stuck it to the old man in a major way, and even got to Earth like she always wanted.

Suletta wanted to have make friends, have a complete school experience, and establish a school of her own, and she totally did all that. She also learned self-actualization, overcame her anxieties and insecurities, and became a more complete person, but she also totally got everything that she wanted from the beginning. Granted, we don't know if the school on Mercury also happened, but nothing says that it didn't.

And as for Elnora, she is easily the funniest. Because despite all of her manipulations and war crimes, she totally 100% WON! She wanted revenge for the massacre, and she got it. Delling and associates, disgraced and put on trial, having lost everything, if they weren't outright killed. Delling's daughter seizing everything her father had built and marrying Elnora's daughter, having chosen Elnora over her own dad. And while Quiet Zero didn't pan out, Eri still got some measure of freedom with hope of a more complete life as the medical GUND tech gets developed. Even her own infirmity seems like an acceptable trade-off. Her family basically runs the galaxy, the GUND tech that her mentor gave her life for is now the future, and and she totally got away with everything. I should be mad, but you just gotta admire the audacity.

Hell, Eri might be a keychain, but you can't argue that she's doing pretty okay as well, and no doubt they'll find a way to give her a GUND tech body of her own one day. Talk about calling their shots!

#gundam the witch from mercury #wfm #miorine rembran #suletta mercury #elnora samaya #ericht samaya #lady prospera #sulemio

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atinylittlepain · 21 days

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Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

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joel miller masterlist

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She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

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This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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bi-bard · 4 months

Text

Reckless - Tenth Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Reckless

Pairing: Tenth Doctor X Reader | Rose Tyler X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 6,274 words

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Summary: [Christmas Special (2005)] The Doctor's regeneration has left him unconscious for the unforeseeable future. Now, with an invasion on the horizon, (Y/n) is pushed onto the frontlines on their own for the first time.

Author's Note: I did a poll to decide what episode I should write about next and this episode won. I hope I've made you guys proud. If you have a doctor/series/episode you want to see in the future, just let me know.

Y'all. I need you to trust me here. I know what I'm doing.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

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It was as if there was no pause between the burst of regeneration energy and the Doctor's attempt to fly the TARDIS.

As if nothing had happened at all.

But it was clear that something had. Something fundamentally had changed about him. Some wires were still waiting to be properly connected. I could see it. It was in how he was stumbling and frantically glancing between things on the console. He wasn't ready. Not yet.

"Doctor, move," I said, stepping toward the console.

"I- I'm just trying to land," he replied, still scrambling.

"I know, but you are fresh off of a regeneration, this is-" my sentence was cut off by the TARDIS jerking to the side harshly. "Doctor, get away from the console, now!"

He stopped as soon as I raised my voice at him.

I moved around him, flipping a few switches to try to undo some of the chaos he had caused. I wasn't doing a great job, but I had most of it under control. There was one more crash before the machine finally stopped moving.

I ran over to Rose, who had fallen during the earlier chaos. "You alright?"

"What... What's happened to him," she asked quietly. "What's this regeneration thing?"

I watched the Doctor go stumbling out through the doors. "I... I'll explain in a bit. As soon as I know that he's not going to do something stupid."

I ran outside, making it through the door just as the Doctor fainted. I glanced between Jackie and Mickey. They both stared at me in shock. I knelt down, checking that he was alright.

"What happened," I looked up to see Rose in the doorway. "Is he alright?"

"Should be," I replied.

"He just keeled over," Mickey added. "Who is he? Where's the Doctor?"

"That's him," Rose explained. "That's the Doctor."

"What do you mean, that's the Doctor?" Jackie said.

"I'll explain in a bit, but can we first get him inside, please," I pleaded.

It took a bit of work, but we managed to get the Doctor upstairs and into bed. I don't know how they did it, but they managed to get him into a pair of pajamas while I was searching around the apartment for something that could help.

"I... I don't wanna know," I muttered when I walked into the room and saw him. "Do you have anything I can use?"

"Like what," Rose asked.

"Stuff to check vitals. Anything will be better than nothing."

Jackie let out a gasp. "I've got something. Be back in a tick!"

I barely had a chance to blink before she went running out of the room. I sat down next to the Doctor, letting out a small sigh as I looked at him.

"Are you going to explain what's going on now?" Rose muttered, leaning on the doorframe.

"He regenerated," I said. "It's a normal process for Time Lords. The body senses that it's near death and finds a way to fix itself. Losing consciousness like this isn't entirely normal. It happens sometimes. Usually, it means the whole process wasn't complete during the initial regeneration. His cells are still burning and regrowing. They're settling."

"But he'll be alright?" she replied.

"I hope so," I mumbled.

Jackie ran back in a few moments later, rambling about some neighbor of hers. She handed me a stethoscope. I placed the ends in my ears before pressing the flat piece to his torso, moving to check both hearts.

"I still think we should take him to a hospital," Jackie noted.

"We can't," Rose argued before I could. "They'd lock him up. Dissect him. One bottle of his blood could change the course of the human race."

"But-"

"You would trust human doctors with no experience of this situation while I am here and the only being alive that shares his anatomical makeup," I asked.

"I didn't-"

I shushed her, going back to listening to the Doctor's hearts. "Good. Both working fine. We'll just have to wait."

"Both?" Jackie replied.

"They've got two hearts," Rose explained. "Each."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Anything else you lot have two of?"

"Ew," I murmured. "Come on. We need to let him rest. Finish the process."

Rose sighed, pausing a moment. "Could make tea?"

I chuckled. "Is that just a natural human response? Making tea when things are going wrong?"

"Mostly just the English," Jackie shrugged.

I nodded. "I see..."

I followed the two of them out of the room. As soon as they made it to the kitchen, Jackie seemed to be berating Rose with questions when she should have been asking me. Rose didn't know anything about this. She was already dealing with so many emotions. It wasn't fair.

"Stop it," I said firmly. "If you have questions, ask me. Don't torment her."

Jackie huffed. "I just want some answers."

"Rose isn't gonna have them," I replied. I looked at Rose, who looked back at me with tears in her eyes. "Hey..."

"I thought I knew him," she muttered. "I thought me and him were..."

The way her voice trailed off broke my hearts. I took a breath before speaking, "He may have changed, but his memories didn't. Who he cares for, what he believes in... they're built on more than his physical form. Those kinds of things are built on experiences. His favorite food might change, but not something as deep as his thoughts and feelings about you or me or anyone. He'll most likely still see you in the same way he did."

I was caught off guard by her hugging me tightly. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her, closing my eyes as she hid her face in my shoulder. There was a long silence as we sat in that hug.

She leaned back, wiping her eyes. She looked at her mother. "The big question is... where'd you get a pair of men's pajamas from?"

"Howard's been staying over," Jackie replied, turning back to the counter.

"What, Howard from the market?"

I chuckled a bit as I turned around. I had never known a race to spend as much time gossiping as humanity. In some strange way, I admired it.

I glanced at the TV in the main room. "Is that Harriet Jones?"

Rose followed me out of the kitchen when she heard me speak up. "Why is she on the telly?"

"She's Prime Minister now," Jackie explained. "I'm 18 quid a week better off."

"Britain's Golden Age," I said quietly. "This is it."

"That's what they've been calling it," Jackie shrugged. "I keep on saying my Rose has met her."

"Did more than that," Rose replied. "Stopped World War III with her."

I furrowed my eyebrows as the report carried on. "Space probe... humans... always reaching for more."

"I thought you'd be a fan of exploration."

"As long as it doesn't draw in any unwanted attention."

Rose and Mickey left later that evening. Something about Christmas shopping.

I split my time between checking on the Doctor and awkwardly trying to help Jackie while she rambled on the phone to a friend.

It all felt... slow. Time was something that I was used to being able to somewhat ignore. It wasn't an important factor to me. I could bend it to be as fast or slow as I wanted, but now... all I could do was wait. Sit and wait.

It was infuriating.

It was a little while later that Rose and Mickey barged in, yelling at Jackie to get off the phone. I furrowed my eyebrows at them.

"What's going on," I asked.

"It's not safe. Someone- something is after the Doctor," Rose explained quickly. "We've got to get out. Where can we go?"

"My mate Stan. He'll put us up," Mickey suggested.

"That's only two streets away" Rose replied. "What about Mo? Where's she living now?"

"I don't know, Peak District," Jackie answered.

"We'll go to cousin Mo's then," Rose replied.

"It's Christmas Eve, we're not going anywhere!" Jackie exclaimed. "What are you babbling on about?"

"Where'd you get that tree," Rose asked. "That's a new tree. Where'd you get it?"

"I thought it was you," Jackie said.

"You accepted a new tree when you didn't know who sent it?" I chimed in. She paused for a moment. "Get the Doctor to the TARDIS and we can go anywhere in time and space. Escaping to a different planet will be better than a different... district or whatever."

The lights started turning on. And then, the branches started spinning.

"Go, now!" I shoved them all out of the main room.

Rose sprinted into the Doctor's room. I followed her, shoving Mickey and Jackie in with me. The two of them shoved a dresser in front of the door while I started rummaging through the pocket of his leather jacket.

I let out a relieved breath when I found the sonic screwdriver.

It was perfect timing.

The robotic tree had broken through the door. The others had quickly backed away from the door.

I picked up my arm and pressed the button on the screwdriver. I shielded my face as the tree blew up.

"You guys alright," I said, scrambling to the other three.

They all nodded, each clearly still in shock about the entire event. I made it to the Doctor, checking his pulse to make sure that he wasn't somehow hurt during the whole event. He seemed fine... and then I saw a puff of regeneration energy escape from him.

"No," I muttered to myself. "No, no, no!"

"What is it," Rose asked.

I ran outside, stopping at the railing when I saw a collection of Santa-looking robots standing on the ground below us. Rose was right behind me, along with the other two.

"What are they?" she whispered to me.

I shushed her quietly before lifting my hand, pointing the sonic screwdriver at them. They seemed to recognize the situation they were in. They moved closer to each other and teleported away. Presumably back to their ship.

"They've just gone," Mickey said. "What kind of rubbish were they?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, no offense, but they're not much cop if a sonic screwdriver scares them off."

"They're pilot fish," I replied. "They're being controlled by something else... someone else. Like the tree. Toy soldiers, robots."

"And that gold dust we saw?" Rose pushed.

"Regeneration energy," I explained. "I... I didn't think he was releasing it and now that I didn't see it, I don't know how long or how much he's expelled. Time Lords are powerful and there are creatures who know that."

"They can find him?"

"Pilot fish were what attacked you earlier, weren't they?"

She nodded.

"That's why. They found out where the energy was and knew that they needed to destroy his 'guardians' to get to him. Either use him or kill him or... just experiment on him. We walked away from something that we weren't meant to survive. There are a few species with a few questions."

"What do we do?"

"Nothing. You lot go inside. Protect yourselves. Watch telly, have tea, do whatever it is humans do in a crisis that they can't fix."

"What about you," Rose asked, going to grab my arm.

"I'm going to the TARDIS," I explained. "If there are pilot fish here, then there's something coming. Something strong. I need to figure out what it is."

"You're just gonna go running off?"

"If I need to, yeah."

"I'm not gonna let you do that!"

"It's not your choice!"

"And why is that?"

"Because I am not going to be the one to get you killed!"

She froze.

"Go inside. Take care of the Doctor. Let me handle this."

I turned and walked away before she could say anything else.

I made it to the TARDIS. I scrambled around the console. I found faint traces of the regeneration energy. Along with it was the signal from the new space probe that had been sent up earlier that night. I furrowed my eyebrows. That couldn't be right.

I watched the signal's trajectory. It had been lost at some point. It was around the same place that the regeneration energy seemed to disperse.

"Who is up there..."

I flicked a switch, tuning into the news about the space probe. I saw the head of the mission scrambling, trying to explain away the loss of contact.

"You are terrible at de-escalating," I muttered.

It was then that the signal was interrupted. Through the static came an image of four creatures. I leaned in a little bit closer. The creature suddenly growled at the screen and then the image was gone.

"Well... shit," I murmured, frantically reaching for a few more buttons.

It was a matter of minutes before Rose stormed through the door. "Did you see that?"

"Yes," I answered. "How's the Doctor?"

"Pale, sick."

"Oh...," I mumbled. "It's okay. He'll be okay."

Rose looked down for a moment. "What... What was that thing?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I didn't get a clear enough image. But... I know something. I was tracking the trace of regeneration energy that the Doctor has been emitting and it is going to the same place as the probe's signal is coming from."

"So... mars?"

"No," I shook my head. "The probe never made it that far. It's 5,000 miles above it. It's a spaceship. The probe is onboard and they're tracking the energy, coming this way. That puts the entire planet at risk."

"Can't we go stop them before they get here?"

"No. If they're looking for a Time Lord, then handing them a piece of Time Lord technology would be reckless at best."

"But if they get to the Doctor-"

"I won't let that happen!"

"Are you sure? Because you don't seem to be doing much to stop them!"

"Rose, they will kill you. They will kill me. They will kill the Doctor. We don't know what they want, so I'd like to not hand them one of the most sophisticated pieces of space and time travel equipment to ever exist!"

She huffed and turned around, going to storm out.

I closed my eyes and dug the heels of my palms against them.

I was just trying to protect her... protect everyone. I just... I didn't know how to do that on my own. I had become so accustomed to having someone to bounce my ideas off of. I was lost. Stuck. I didn't know what to do yet.

I had spent ages continuing to try to get some kind of answer when the screen turned to static again.

Those four aliens were there again. One of them started speaking again, but the TARDIS wasn't translating.

"Hey, hey," I said quietly. "I know that I'm not him, but I'm still Gallifreyan. I can still fly you. You can still work with me."

The video replayed. This time, the voices were translated. "People, you belong to us. To the Sycorax. We own you. We now possess your land, your minerals, your precious stones. You will surrender or they will die. Sycorax strong, Sycorax mighty, Sycorax rock!"

"'They'," I repeated the word to myself. "Who are you talking about?"

I tried to search for any sign of who they could be talking about.

It was hours before another message came through. One of the Sycorax stuck their hand out. A blue light emitted from it. The image disappeared after that.

"Nice to know that humanity wasn't slow to do something stupid," I muttered to myself. It was a harsh assumption, but it was a valid one.

I ran outside only to be met with a crowd of people walking by me. I furrowed my eyebrows as the blue light shined around their heads. I saw Rose up on the landing outside her door. We shared the same look with each other.

I followed her and Mickey to the roof of the building.

There was an entire fraction of the population standing on the edge. Each seemingly ready to jump. I stepped back, running my hands over my face.

"What is it? What's going on?" Rose said, grabbing my arm.

"I... I don't know," I mumbled. "It... I have an idea but... it can't be. I want to believe that the top minds in your country are not stupid enough to do something that would allow it."

"What is it?"

"Mickey, can you still get access to the military's files?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, I can."

"I need you to get any information you can on that probe. Now. I can't work on it on my own."

"He left us," Rose muttered. "This is the time when we need him the most and he left us. He left... He left me."

"Rose, look at me," I grabbed her hands. "I have known the Doctor maybe as long as you have. I know one thing though... he is never going to abandon you. I promise."

"How do you know that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Mickey chimed in before the conversation could continue, "Come on!"

We ran back down the stairs to the ground level. As soon as we had made it outside, I turned to Mickey, "Go get your computer and then come straight back here. We'll work in the TARDIS. Rose, you're gonna go up and watch the Doctor. If something happens, then you call-"

My instructions were cut off by a loud boom. Any glass nearby had broken, shattering all over the ground near us. I covered my head and squatted down to cover myself, yelling for the others to get down as well.

"What the hell-"

"A spaceship just entered your atmosphere," I said as I scrambled to stand up. "Sonic wave."

"What do we do," Rose asked.

I looked up as the spaceship flew overhead. It stopped just above us. "Get the Doctor to the TARDIS. Now. It's the safest place for him now. I'm sorry that we didn't do it sooner, but we need to move."

I watched as the trio scrambled to get the Doctor and Jackie's supplies into the TARDIS. She ran out to get the rest of the food, even though I yelled at her not to go.

"What now?" Rose said.

"I... I'm not sure," I replied. "I'm... I'm not usually the only one coming up with ideas at this point."

"But you're clever. I've seen you; you are clever. You... You were said you were trained for wartime."

"A war. I was trained for a war on one planet with different conditions and tools and-"

"And they never taught you to adapt? To do... I don't know... peace talks and things?"

I paused for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

I leaned forward and flicked a switch.

"What was that?"

"I let out a signal. There's no way the TARDIS would be able to land on the ship, but I could get them to teleport the TARDIS onto the ship."

"You're gonna talk to them."

I nodded. "I'm gonna try... see if that theory of mine was correct."

I took a deep breath, going to walk toward the doors. I rolled my shoulders back and tilted my chin up a bit. I pulled the door open, letting out a sigh of relief when I found myself on the spaceship.

Harriet Jones was standing there with her assistant.

"Harriet Jones," I said, a grin forming. "You are a sight for sore eyes."

"I could say the same to you," she muttered, hugging me. "Is the Doctor with you?"

"Not exactly," I replied as I stepped back. "But if you trust me, I can handle this."

I stepped ahead of the group, facing the Sycorax leader as bravely as I could.

"You. You have the clever box," the presumed leader spoke up.

Harriet's assistant tried to translate for me, but I stopped him. "I can understand him."

"How," Rose asked.

"TARDIS has a stronger psychic connection with the Doctor but I am still the same species as him. I may not be able to expand its reach like he seemingly can, but I don't need him to be able to use the translation."

"Silence!" the Sycorax shouted.

"Alright," I muttered.

"You speak for this planet!"

"Yes."

"You will understand my wishes."

"Surrender, correct?" I replied. "Basic signs of obedience in your eyes. Harriet, what did he ask for? Some of the population?"

"Half," she answered.

"Half to be used for their own benefit," I turned back to the Sycorax. "Half to be used as slaves in exchange for letting a third live."

"Correct," the Sycorax said.

"Why Earth?"

There was a silence.

"There are millions of planets that are far more advanced. That," I pointed at the TARDIS, "isn't human technology. There are other planets more beneficial to you, if you're looking for resources. And many are ready for the taking. These people are barely scratching the surface of space exploration and you're exploiting it. There's a whole planet renowned for being quick to surrender, why not go there?"

"We want the Earth," the leader said.

"But why," I pushed. "Why can't you just leave these people alone?"

He didn't respond.

"And then there's the third of the population," I continued, going to step around him. "I have a theory of course, but... oooooh, great."

I ran up the steps.

"Look at that! A big red button! Control matrix. Tell me, if I look under here, will I find a little bowl of blood?"

"Step away from that!"

"Alright," I held my hands up before leaning down, going to open the center console.

"That was English," Rose said.

"Well, yes, Rose, I speak English," I replied, still looking at the control matrix. I dipped my finger into the small bowl. "A+!"

"No, the Sycorax spoke English. I understood him," Rose explained.

I stood up, turning to look at her. "What?"

"He... He told you to step away from the controls, right? I understood him!"

"That means the TARDIS is translating for you again," I took a few steps closer.

The TARDIS doors behind them creaked open, revealing the Doctor in his pajamas and a robe.

"Took your sweet time, didn't you?" I crossed my arms.

"Could say the same to you," he shrugged as he stepped out.

The Sycorax tried to attack him, but it didn't work out well. Instead, the Doctor grabbed the weapons that the creature had and simply tossed them away. Being fresh off regeneration energy either made him stronger or dumber, I wasn't certain which one yet.

"Now, give me a moment. I am busy," he said to the leader before turning to the group of four that was now behind him. "Mickey! Hello!"

That was the happiest he had ever been to see Mickey.

"And Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North. Blimey, it's like This is Your Life."

"Harriet Jones, Prime Minister," I corrected.

"I see," he grinned. "Tea! That's all I needed. A good cup of tea."

I almost chuckled at the idea.

If there was one thing about the Doctor that didn't change at all, it was his ability to talk. He ranted and rambled and jumped between different tones of voice. He talked about little he knew about himself now. He was a clean slate with nothing known yet.

I had regenerated before, but I had never thought about the process before. Truly, I never had the time. I was kind of thrown from one thing to the other. Getting confused after regenerating never made it onto my schedule.

"Doctor," I called from the steps.

"Yeah?" he turned to me. "Oh, I interrupted you. Go on. Bet you were doing brilliantly."

"Oh, you didn't interrupt at all," I shook my head. "It's just that, well, if I were to find a big red button, then I would know better than to press it. However, a Time Lord fresh off a regeneration may not be so rational... considering he's figuring himself out and everything."

"You're right," he replied. "Does the very rational one happen to know what the button does?"

"It's operating a blood control system."

"No!" he exclaimed excitedly, running over to me. "I haven't seen blood control in years."

"I've only read about it. Similar to hypnosis, yeah?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "When'd you work that out?"

"It was a running theory when I saw everyone on the roof. If they could control any chunk of the population, then why would they not make it half alive for a half enslaved? Why only a third?"

"Oh, you are so clever."

"I know," I shrugged. "So... what do you think?"

"Well, here's the danger with a freshly regenerated Time Lord," the Doctor looked at the Sycorax. "I truly don't know who I am. So... if I see a great big threatening button which should never, ever, ever be pressed, then I just wanna do this."

The Doctor slammed his hand down on the button.

I heard the others yelling at him.

"You killed them!" Harriet's assistant said.

I turned to the leader of the Sycorax. "Are they dead?"

"We allow them to live," he grumbled.

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes. "He couldn't kill them. He had no choice. When I said blood control was like hypnosis, I was being honest. You can't hypnotize someone into doing something that they'd never do such as kill themselves. Humans operate on an evolutionary basis that forces them to protect their genes, so the fight-or-flight system kicks in."

"Everyone's okay," Rose asked.

"Everyone's okay," I nodded.

"Blood control was one form of conquest," the leader spoke up. "I can summon the armada and take this planet by force."

"Which brings me to my question again, why? Can't you just leave them alone?"

"Or what?"

"Or... I'll stop you."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

I looked at one of the soldiers next to me before rushing over and grabbing the sword on his waist.

I stepped back, getting away from the crowd.

I poised the sword out toward the leader. "I challenge you."

"(Y/n)," the Doctor scolded. The Sycorax laughed loudly as he stormed over to me. "This is incredibly stupid. Reckless."

"No, it's not," I replied. "This is what I was trained for. I existed before you met me, Doctor. You need to remember that."

He stepped away from me slowly.

"You're just gonna let (Y/n) do this?" I heard Rose mutter.

"I can't stop them," the Doctor replied.

I looked at the leader of the Sycorax again.

"Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply," I asked.

The leader unsheathed a sword of his own. "You stand as this world's champion?"

"Proudly. Do you accept my challenge?"

The crowd roared around us.

We both took a knee, swords next to us.

"For the planet?" the leader tilted his head slightly as he spoke. He was taunting me.

"For the planet," I confirmed.

We stood up.

I could barely remember who actually took the first swing.

I was beginning to realize that I hadn't been in a fight so similar to what I had originally been training for.

I could just remember the technology, the instructions, the fake wounds. It was as if with every swing, my blood started boiling more and more. I hadn't felt like this in a long time.

I could remember the days when I felt that every day.

Fake Daleks, fake Cybermen, fake monsters, fake gods. I could see them all so vividly. In between the visions were the familiar flipping of pages and frantic searching and reading. The tests and quizzes and practices.

Oh, I was furious. It was making me sloppy.

I ran onto the outside platform of the ship as I found myself getting angrier and angrier.

I needed to be able to focus on one target. I needed to bring myself back to the current moment. To recognize that this was not fake. That this was not every evil being that I had been forced to face, but was one being. One thing that wanted to have more power than he deserved.

I also needed to get out of the crowd as soon as I could. That crowd could turn on me the moment I won. My victory could last a matter of moments before they turned on me entirely.

I learned how much the leader of the Sycorax valued straightforward aggression. He wanted the anger. The yelling and wild thrashing that seemed more calculated than they were.

I had learned long ago how to adapt to someone like that.

This means that despite any scratches and bruises, I was more in control than he thought.

So, when I squatted down and swung my leg so I could knock him off his feet, he was the only one surprised.

I stood above him, only leaning down to throw his sword as far away as I could. I pressed the tip of my blade to his throat. His head was hanging off the platform. I could have turned him into an example for the entire human race and Sycorax alike.

"I win," I said.

"Then, kill me," the leader's words were hoarse.

"I was raised as a weapon," I explained. "I was created to fight. To stop any threat that could have come my way. But mercy... I had to learn that. And it took me so long to perfect."

I pushed a little harder.

"So do not take it for granted when I offer it to you now," I warned. "I will spare your life as long as you listen to this command. Leave this planet and never return. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Swear on the blood of your species."

"I swear."

"Good."

I stepped back, pulling the blade away from the leader's neck.

I turned around to see the Doctor walking over to me already. I let him pull me into a tight hug, making sure to keep the blade away from either of our bodies.

Rose ran out just behind him. I smiled widely as I went to hug her.

"I told you that you could do this," she muttered to me. "I told you that you were clever."

"Thank you," I mumbled back.

She stepped back.

"We should go. Now."

The Doctor smiled for a moment. "Sounds like- (Y/n), look out-"

I turned around. The leader came running at me, shouting as he went to attack me. I slammed my blade through his torso. I pulled the blade up and twisted it slightly.

"I warned you," I murmured to him before shoving him down. I dragged the blade out of him. "I... I tried to warn you."

"Hey," Rose touched my back. "Come on. It's done. It's over."

"No. Not yet."

I stormed into the main hall, staring up at the collection of Sycorax. I slammed the sword into the ground.

"I am this planet's champion, and you will heed my command. You are to leave this planet and never return for the rest of time. And I would advise you to take this battle as a warning. A warning that you will spread among the stars. As you speak of Earth and its people and all that it could offer, ensure that you tell them all that this planet is- and always will be- protected."

The Sycorax's teleport sent us all back to the surface after that.

I watched in silence as the ship began to fly away. I let out a shaky breath as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"(Y/n)," I turned to the Doctor.

"I killed someone," I murmured. "Directly, I mean. I... I wasn't just there. It wasn't some misguided attempt to save him. I killed him-"

He shushed me as he pulled me into a hug. "I want you to listen."

I closed my eyes, listening to the rumbling of the above spaceship. The sound of Rose and Mickey cheering cut through. Sharp and deafening in the best way. I heard Jackie's voice join them. Thankful and caring and proud.

"I hear hope... joy. I hear the cheers of the very people you just saved. Now, imagine that sound echoing all over the world. All of them. Safe because of you."

He stepped back, holding my upper arms.

"I'd say that's an alright balance, wouldn't you?"

I felt my lips tugging up as I thought about it. Yeah, maybe-

Any hope I had was shattered with the sound of an explosion. It silenced any cheering. Any joy. It was loud, violent, terrifying.

I looked over at Harriet. She stood there with a sullen expression painted on her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you," I asked. "They were leaving!"

"You said it yourself," she replied. "They go out and tell the rest of the universe about us. What happens when you and the Doctor aren't here? When another race decides that they want Earth?"

"You think that you're so important that it justifies murder-"

"Yours was?"

"I never wanted to do that! I wanted to show mercy! I wanted them to have the chance to make the right choice! Do not use me as an example to justify your monstrous behavior!"

She had no response to that.

"I shouldn't have just said to leave. I should have told them to run. Run as fast as you can because here comes humanity, the true monsters! The species ready to destroy anything different than themselves!"

I was almost screeching by the end of it. I felt the Doctor move his arm in front of me. I must have moved forward without thinking much of it.

I stepped away, turning to the others. Rose hugged me, muttering how sorry she was.

"I should have stopped you," the Doctor said.

"What does that make you, Doctor? Both of you? Another alien threat?"

"Don't challenge me, Harriet Jones, 'cause I'm a completely new man," he pushed. I stepped away from Rose, turning back to Harriet. "I could bring down your government with a single word."

"You're the most remarkable man I've ever met, but even you aren't capable of that."

"No, you're right," the Doctor replied. "Not a single word. Just six."

"I don't think so."

"Six words."

"Stop it!"

"Six."

He stepped around her. He walked to her assistant, muttering something into his ear. He came back to us.

"You go back with these three. I'll meet you there," he explained to me. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I can't very well keep walking around in pajamas and a robe."

"Fair," I chuckled. "See you in a bit."

"You too."

I followed Rose, Mickey, and Jackie back to the apartment.

They forced me to go sit down while they got dinner together, only letting me join them when the table was set.

"I could've helped," I said when I sat down.

"Well, we couldn't let the planet's champion make their own meal," Mickey replied. "Now, eat."

I chuckled and shook my head.

The door opened a few moments later. I turned to look at the Doctor. He was wearing a suit now. Dark brown with a light button-up and a tie. He had a long trench coat on now. He grinned at us before coming to sit at the end of the table.

I found myself faced with Rose holding out some roll of something. It was wrapped in green foil with gold and red details. I furrowed my eyebrows at it.

"Grab that end," Rose instructed. "It's a Christmas cracker. This is a very human thing. Like the tea."

I was hesitant but listened to her anyway.

"On three, pull toward you," she continued. "1... 2... 3!"

I tugged the roll toward myself. I flinched a bit as it popped. I found myself with most of the roll in my hand. I moved it, looking inside.

I found a crown made of tissue paper. It was yellow. Bright yellow.

"Put it on!" Rose pushed.

"Okay, okay," I replied. I placed the crown on my head, struggling to get it to stay in place. The Doctor reached over and fixed it for me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he muttered.

Rose pointed at the TV. "It's Harriet Jones."

She was rambling, trying to defend staying in office. I looked at the Doctor. He gave me a look that simply said 'don't ask'. I turned back to the screen.

That was until Jackie pushed us all outside.

I almost froze in the door at the sight of what seemed to be snow. It was as I stepped on it that I realized that it wasn't. It was ash. Leftover ash from the spaceship still burning up.

I closed my eyes for a moment before looking around me. I saw people. Couples and kids and whole families running around in it. They were laughing. Cheering. Spinning and celebrating.

There it was again.

That sense of hope.

That very small shred of it that made me feel like I needed to hold onto it as tightly as I could.

"(Y/n)," I turned to the Doctor. He was standing next to Rose, holding hands with her as they both looked at me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Absolutely."

He grinned before going to open the door.

I let out a small sigh as I followed them both inside.

One shred.

That was all I needed.

Or... all that I was going to have... for now.

If I wanted more, I had to go find it.

And yeah, I was absolutely ready to do that.

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Author's Note: I would like to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and accepting this OC. I know I play around with canon and I promise it is only going to become more evident as we go on. I have this OC planned out through Flux, just to give you an idea of how committed I am to this OC and their story. They have been through many of iterations before this one and I am so happy that this is the version that resonated with people. Thank you for your time and care. I promise that it is recognized and appreciated. I'll see you all soon!

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor fanfiction #tenth doctor x reader #rose tyler imagine #rose tyler fanfiction #rose tyler x reader #david tennant x reader #david tennant imagine #david tennant fanfiction

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makethosenarratorsfight · 5 months

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; THE FINAL FINAL

Shen Qingqiu Propaganda:

The entire series is told from his POV and the story seems like a comedy. The side stories from other characters POVs make the story sound like a tragedy. He thought that Luo Binghe hated him and wanted him dead while everyone else knew that Binghe was in love with him.

the whole book he’s using his OWN interpretation of the world to explain literally everything, not knowing that his introduction into the world changed it so fundamentally that his prior knowledge of it is less than useless. he’s like “binghe is being sweet to me because binghe is sweet to people that wronged him before repaying their slight a thousandfold, and he only adds their acceptance of his sweetness to his tally of their sins!! i have to run away forever or he’ll tear my arms and legs off!!!!!!” and binghe in reality is like “wow the love of my life my beloved shizun is scared of me still :( i should act sweet and nonthreatening so he’s not scared of me :(“ and he literally doesn’t have this corrected until the end of the book. but even when that one thing is corrected he still is like “haha okay but these other six things-“ bro……. cucumber bro………….. you homosexualized the world just accept it

He examines the entire reality he's isekai-ed into as if it's still fictional and his inner monologue ignores any "character trait" of the people around him that doesn't fit into his perception of "canon" despite everything he's done to change reality from the canon of the novel he first read. He routinely mislabels his own emotions as well as making heteronormative assumptions about himself and the people around him before he finally realises he's in reciprocated gay love with a man. It's a book that benefits being read twice, so the second time around you can focus on the implications Shen Qingqiu blatantly misses.

Transmigrates into a novel he “hates,” assumes he’s doing a good job pretending to be the character whose body he got stuck in, assumes other characters will stick to their original paths. Lotta assumptions, lots of rationalizing, lots of incredible feats of misunderstanding/misinterpreting things. His internal narration is also hysterical.

Lemony Snicket Propaganda:

(I would like to preface this by saying that Lemony Snicket is the author's pen name, not a real person, and he exists as a character in-universe as well as being the one in-universe who writes the books!) I'd say he's unreliable because he spent time collecting information about the Baudelaire kids and then... wrote books about it. He has no idea what any of their dialogue actually was, what they were thinking, or even the whole plot, he's just doing research into the incidents and then filling in the gaps to make it a story. What ACTUALLY happened to the Baudelaires? Nobody really knows for sure

While the Baudelaire siblings are in potentially life threatening danger, he will randomly start talking about his own life and just leave the siblings hanging. For example, once Count Olaf was threatening to kill Violet, and then Lemony randomly began talking about how he met the love of his life at a costume party. This man CANNOT stay on topic. Usually when a new character is introduced, Lemony tells us right at the start that they’re either going to die or that the Baudelaire siblings will never see them again. Foreshadowing is not subtle in these books. CONSTANTLY emphasizes how miserable he feels while writing these books. At one point he admits that he had to put his pencil down and go cry for a while because of how sad it made him. Once he filled an entire page with nothing but the word “ever” to emphasize how dangerous it is to put forks in electrical outlets. He also repeated a paragraph about deja vu later on in the book to give the reader deja vu.

#unreliable narrators #final final #polls #unreliable narrator battle #shen qingqiu #sqq #svsss #scum villain #scum villain self saving system #lemony snicket #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue books #asoue netflix

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foursaints · 6 months

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ok the topic of barty crouch jr and the bone motif came up, but his specific phrasing here is what really sticks in my brain & is the basis of my stance on barty’s story as an allegory for bodily autonomy. yes there is something obviously satisfying in a character who spent 12 years under imperius, his body used a puppet, choosing to murder his abuser through transfiguration rather than a more conventional method like the killing curse. this is the only instance of death-by-transfiguration in the series. but i think the way he phrases this (became a bone, not ‘turned into’) belies a deeper understanding of barty’s relationship to having a body in general.

barty crouch being denied bodily autonomy goes far deeper than the imperius curse. i see it as sort of a haunting refrain that characterizes his entire life actually. he goes from servitude, to imprisonment, to switching bodies with his mother, to the imperius curse (kept under an invisibility cloak— he can’t even see himself), to the polyjuice potion, to that ironic “death” by the dementor’s kiss; his body goes on without his soul. it’s worth noting that the only time barty appears on-page as himself his body is controlled (yet again!) and forced to speak under veristaserum. do you think there was a strange comfort in that, for him? i just mean that he’s never known anything else.

i want to look at this through a hypochondriacal lens, where the experience of having a body (or being embodied) is a contestatory relationship wherein the mind strives for order/structure/immutability but the body is inescapable— it brings disorder, change, and a continual loss of control. the body is both fundamentally unknowable and hurtling towards death and illness: the hypochondriac seeks to rationalize & control this, but it’s ultimately an exercise in futility. i see these anxieties really present in barty crouch jr’s character: someone whose body has been puppeted or transformed into a different shape more than it has actually been his own.

i’m not saying that barty IS a hypochondriac (he’s not), but that his character arc functions inside the same epistemological framework: one where the unruly body is a prison because of how it’s subject to/harbinger of continual change. but this relies on a really clear division of the body and mind as separate entities. or even, like, a division between the body and this more ephemeral idea of “the self”— a soul that resides in the body but is somehow separate from it (and we know the soul is canon in the world of harry potter). barty crouch collapses this dichtonomy in a really interesting way with his statement: his father became a bone. as in, he is no longer himself and he is just that bone now. barty is introducing the idea that the soul doesn’t really matter or even exist, and that once your body takes the shape of something you fundamentally are that thing, for better or worse.

and i don’t know! this strikes me, especially coming from a man who has lived twelve years as an empty vessel— why would he believe in a soul if his has been erased and overwritten so many times? his own sense of self is too stifled and warped and stunted. this is the same character who was able to embody moody so fully and convincingly that it was impossible for even dumbledore to tell the difference. i think this was possible because of barty’s weird relationship to embodiment, where his actual “self” is hazy and loosely defined— perhaps the result of so many years having it denied, stifled, or unable to develop— but he becomes whatever shape his body is taking. (it’s interesting to note, too, that barty didn’t say that he transfigured his father. rather, he “transfigured [his father’s] body”, and this was enough for his identity to dissipate and him to become something else). to barty, the “self” is not an independent entity that is subject to the body’s change and disorder— his “self” is the very body itself, and all the fear, and change, and loss of control that comes with it.

this is why the ending with the dementor’s kiss gets me so bad. if the body is all he really is, then this fate is the perfect closure. barty is finally reduced to all he has ever been: erased. an empty vessel. just the image of himself, with nothing inside it. what’s really changed?

#t #barty crouch jr #how do i even tag this. mucho texto #UNDERSTANDERS WILL UNDERSTAND!#barty meta tag

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 5 months

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omgg please tell me that you’ve seen the extended atwow extended cuts?? they’re phenomenal and canon and i can’t be told otherwise.

The Parents from hell one had me on the edge of my seat I was so scared even though I know the outcome, well now we know that Neytiri was definitely going to kill, not even to bargain for Kiri but for revenge and that’s just ughhh i can’t wait to incorporate this in my fanfic

I gotta say, I do fundamentally disagree, at least about the parents one. It's not so much of a deleted scene as a full rewrite of the scene. If Neytiri's goal was to kill Spider and take revenge over saving Kiri, why did they do with the version where she lets him go immediately? I don't know, man, to me it seems like they filmed that and then decided it didn't work with the character or for what they had planned. It definitely makes sense to me that they chose not to go with that version. Even the name, "The Parents From Hell," it makes it seem like it's a dark alternate universe.

But yes, scenes that were missing and not included I am all for thinking of as canon! But this is a full rewrite. It's not canon, because it's not what happened in the final version. I think the reason they chose to change it is more telling than the fact that it was filmed in the first place.

But of course, I am mad it exists. I wish they never released it. I don't like what they seem to think of Neytiri's character. I don't like the framing of her as less sympathetic than Quartich (even though a lot of idiots still took it that way which is still on the writing team as well), but I'm glad they understood they had to change the scene. I'm trying to withhold judgement until I see the full arc they intend for her, but as of now I'm not very pleased. She should be the heart of this series if it is to stay it's course as a true love letter to indigenous communities and what has happened to them. I hope they don't forget that.

#not to come at you my love #just my thoughts thrown out there #neytiri sully #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #kiri sully #miles quaritch #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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thechekhov · 9 months

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Question for those of you who have finished Gideon the Ninth and have read Harrow the Ninth and perhaps even Nona.

So as many of you may have guessed, I finished the first book a while ago. My reaction to the entire ending went something like this:

So as one may guess, I have mixed feelings.

They're not a mix of good and bad. They're a mix of Good and Complicated Good.

I legitimately think it was a great ending... but I am also struggling to reconcile what appears to be the death of one of my favorite characters.

On the one hand, I don't want to simply throw my toys off the table and yell 'I WANT MORE HARROW AND GIDEON DANGIT, LOCK ME IN THEIR HATE-LOVE PURGATORY FOREVER'. On the contrary, I love the idea that we get to see Harrow's side of things. I am fully aware that the world has not even been explored fractionally, and I want to understand more of it.

On the other hand........... I have very few things to care about anymore. I care about Harrow, this is true. But the rest of the characters I had an attachment to (Palamedes, Camilla, etc) are all kinda. Dead.

I want to read Harrow the Ninth and consume its entire carcass, meat bone and all, almost as much as I want to push it away and hold off on starting it as much as possible. Because I want to enjoy whatever Gideon the Ninth had, because I don't think the series will ever go back to that. I feel like from now on, it will be a fundamentally different story. And that's not.... bad! I think I will enjoy that new story.

But I feel like clinging to the tiny bubble of Gideon the Ninth because the beyond of it all feels as unknowable and as incomprehensible as death. And that naturally kinda repels me.

So I ask you, fellow readers - are my worries justified? Did you share them?

I don't want spoilers. I don't want summaries. I just want to know:

Does the story's soul fundamentally change here? Or is the soup still the same, even if the ingredients have been a little blended in the great mixer of plot?

#gideon the ninth #the locked tomb

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beyondthesefourwalls · 9 months

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This Love Came Back to Me (9)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, breaking and entering, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Nine Word Count: 5.9K

Part Eight :: Series Masterlist

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Bradley didn’t remember running out of the driving range or getting in the Bronco. All he could focus on was the sound of your crying, though he supposed that word didn’t do it justice. You were full on hyperventilating on the other line, sobbing violently as you tried to talk. He hasn’t gotten anything out of you except for your request to come get you, and he had to swallow the panic he was feeling himself now to focus on you.

He didn’t know what the fuck happened, but he had an awful feeling that whatever it was would fundamentally change things because of the severity of it. You wouldn’t be responding so strongly if it wasn’t.

God, he was so worried you were going to make yourself sick. He felt helpless listening to you, trying to offer any comfort that he could over the phone as he sped through traffic to get to you.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he reminded you, “just copy me, okay?”

When he heard that maybe you were starting to catch your breath, even just marginally, he kept speaking. He didn’t even know what he was talking about, just hoping he could provide enough distraction to keep you relatively calm.

He stayed on the phone with you the whole time, and by the time he was pulling into the parking lot, he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin with concern.

“I’m here,” he said. “Can you tell me where you’re parked?”

Your voice still had a worrying hitch to it, but you had calmed enough to tell him what row you were in. It didn’t take long for him to spot your vehicle. He didn’t hang up until he was hopping out of the Bronco and jogging the distance to you. He didn’t realize it was possible, but his heart broke and his worry increased more when he finally laid eyes on you.

“Bug,” he breathed, “come here, baby.”

But you were already throwing yourself into his arms, clinging to him tighter than you ever have. You were still half in your seat and his knees were bent awkwardly, but he didn’t care as he held you. You were shaking and your breath was still stuttered, and now that he was here, he could tell with certainty that it was fear that was rolling off of you in waves. His natural urge to protect you flared - what in the hell had made you this scared?

“B, he-I-he kn-”

You were starting to hyperventilate again. Bradley shushed you gently, rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles onto your back. He did his best to keep his breathing steady in hopes that yours would gradually match it. When your trembling eased by a margin, he pulled back slightly, keeping one hand on your back while the other cupped your face, wiping away some of your tears. His eyebrows furrowed when he noted the small scrape on your chin. Instinctively, his eyes darted over the rest of you, scanning for any other injuries. His eyes widened as he gently grabbed your wrists to get a better look at your palms. They were scraped to all hell, skin raw in some spots. With a quick glance he saw your knees were in even worse shape.

“Jesus. What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you responded, almost in a whisper. You were looking at the distressed state of your skin like you hadn’t even realized anything was wrong. He felt a new round of panic that you were physically injured on top of being scared, but that the latter was so strong, you hadn’t even noticed.

“Bug?” he prompted, cupping your face again and drawing your eyes back to his. They were so wide, your pupils blown with fear, and bloodshot from the steady stream of tears.

“I - I fell,” you croaked after a moment. “I was - I was running away, and I tripped.”

You were running away? A million questions ran through Bradley’s mind. He wanted to ask them all, but he forced himself to settle on the most obvious.

“From what, baby?” he asked as gently as he could, running his thumb over your cheek. He brushed away another tear as it fell. Your bottom lip wobbled and your breath hitched again, and at this point he was so worried about the stress your body was going through at the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced in the last 30 minutes since you called him. But then you started speaking again, your voice so meak that he barely heard you, and he thought maybe he understood, because every emotion that he had skyrocketed, too.

“Paul,” you said, your voice breaking on the name.

Paul.

Of fucking course it was Paul.

Immediately, Bradley felt the anger that had become familiar in regards to the man. It was one thing for the slimy bastard to put you through hell at work and to show up when he was there with you, but this time, whatever he had done had sent you running. You had gotten physically harmed in the process.

He should have dealt with him when he had the chance all those weeks ago.

“I wanted to go shopping after brunch and I was in the bookstore and he was there and he said he forgives me for reporting him like it was somehow my fault, and that he was sorry we haven’t been able to spend time together at work and he-he-”

“Hey, hey, take a breath. You’re okay. I’m right here,” Bradley reminded you, trying to keep his voice gentle despite how furious he was. You were his priority right now, and you were starting to slip into a panic again. He was desperate to know what had happened that would cause such an extensive, visceral reaction. The possibilities made him angrier than he already was, but he could wait. Right then, he needed to take care of you.

He wiped some of your mascara from under your eye and pushed your hair back from your face before leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let me take you home, and we can-”

“No!”

Bradley startled at your sharp exclamation, not expecting it in the slightest. To further his surprise, your eyes had widened bigger than they had been. Your fear was so palpable that he started feeling it himself. His concern damn near doubled. Before he could even really process it enough to ask a question, you were off again. You were trembling so bad it was like your whole body was vibrating, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“I can’t go back there, B. Please. I can’t -”

“Bug,” he interrupted. He held your face between his palms, trying desperately to get your alarming frantic eyes to focus on him.

“He knows where I live. He knows everything. He’s been tracking me. Bradley. I-I don’t want to go back!”

Bradley could feel his own hands start to shake as his anger grew. He knew where you lived? He had been tracking you? What the hell did that mean?

In his peripherals, he noticed that people were starting to stare as they made their way through the parking lot. It was crowded, so you were smart to come here, but at the same time, he couldn’t see everyone who may be lurking. And it seemed like that was a very real thing to be concerned about, even if he didn’t understand what exactly you were saying. He needed answers, but he needed you safe and calm even more. He took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly.

“I’m taking you back to my place, okay? Just you and me.”

To his relief, you nodded and mumbled an “okay” in response. It was jerky and quick, but it meant you were hearing him through your anxiety; that counted for something. He placed another kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips - he tried to ignore how the salt of your tears was more prevalent than the coconut chapstick he knew you had on.

Bradley kept a tight hold on you as he grabbed your things and took your keys from the ignition. He’d worry about coming back to get the vehicle later.

You didn’t say anything as he helped you into the Bronco, and you stared blankly ahead as he drove. A few silent tears fell from your eyes and he heard the stutter in your breathing on occasion, but you were quiet as you seemed to be settling into something close to shock. Part of him was glad that you weren’t in the same state you had been in when you called him and when he arrived, but the other part of him burned with questions. What had you meant? God, what the hell had happened?

It was silent for a few minutes, both of you lost in your own thoughts. Your voice was so quiet when you uttered his name halfway back to his apartment that he almost didn’t hear it. He glanced over, but you were still staring straight ahead.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“He had my necklace,” you whispered, almost offhandedly, like you were trying to make sense of it yourself. Bradley’s eyebrows knitted together tightly in confusion.

“What?”

“The necklace I lost. I was wearing it when I got home that night. I know I was. But Paul…he had it. He…he was in my house,” your voice hitched and you raised a trembling hand to your mouth, shaking your head. “He was there when I was sleeping. Bradley. He-he was in my room.”

It took a second for the words to register in his mind, but then, all at once, they hit him like a freight train.

Bradley thought that he knew anger. It was an emotion he was, unfortunately, intimately familiar with. But nothing…nothing had made him feel like this before. Red tinted his vision and fury swept through his body. It was like every fiber of his being was suddenly alive with the feeling.

He was going to kill him.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you warned, bringing him back to the present. Bradley navigated to the shoulder of the road in just enough time, as you had barely thrown the door open and leant out of the passenger side before you lost all the contents of your stomach. He unbuckled himself and slid over on the bench seat, gathering your hair up in one hand while the other splayed on your thigh. He listened to you get sick, the sound of it just fueling this ugly feeling inside of him.

Paul had been in your house. While you were right there, laying in your bed fast asleep. The bed that Bradley had made love to you in earlier that morning and last night, and countless times before. You had been fast asleep and had never known, which means it could have happened other times that you didn’t know about, either. He had put his hands on you today.

He had apparently been tracking you.

Bradley needed to know the full story. He needed to understand everything that had happened thus far. But when you finally sat back in your seat and closed the door after throwing up one more time, instead of demanding answers, he pulled you into his arms. He held onto you as tightly as he could and you clung to him just as much in return. And as your tears dampened his polo shirt, one of his own slipped down his face and into your hair.

——

You told Bradley everything right there on the side of the highway. He did his best to remain calm, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was yell and rage and go track down the man responsible for all of this. He knew you needed his strength right now, for him to keep a level head and not fall apart. And that’s why when you trailed off after detailing the events of the day, he didn’t take you back to his apartment right away.

He kept his arm around your shoulder as you waited at the police station, and then held your hand when an officer finally took your statement. He rubbed your back when you had to write it all down.

The older police officer had a gruff, stern appearance, but he offered you something resembling a kind smile when you handed him back the papers.

“Without security footage or witnesses, any breaking and entering or trespassing accusations probably won’t stick. But we’ll look into it, as well as the stalking claims. You’ll have to file separate papers with the court about a restraining order, if that’s something you want to do.”

Bradley was ready to insist upon it if he had to, but was relieved when you nodded, saying quietly that you’d do that first thing on Monday.

You didn’t have any assurances of how things would work out when you left the station, which was frustrating in and of itself. The officer promised to call you with updates when they had them - Bradley already planned on calling back himself until they had some sort of answers and resolution.

You were quiet the rest of the afternoon, not that he could blame you. He knew there was a thin line between letting you have time to think and letting you spiral into your own thoughts, but he liked to think he walked it well. He coerced you into eating something when dinner rolled around, and when you told him you wanted to go to bed when it was barely 8pm, he went with you. You looked grateful, like you were going to ask if he hadn’t volunteered. But then you asked him to double check that all the doors and windows were locked, snapping the hair tie on your wrist. He could feel the anger swelling in him all over again.

When he came back to the bedroom, you were sitting on the end of the bed, your phone in your hand. You held it out to him with a trembling hand.

“Can you check?” you asked him, eyes sad and wide with worry. “I don’t - I want to make sure I did it right. Please.”

God, he hated Paul. He hated him so fucking much.

Bradley sat beside you, showing you the screen as he went through and made sure that Paul’s contact was blocked and your location was completely cut off from him. He went one step further and double checked it from the Find My app as well, but you were still looking uneasy.

“I can turn your location off all together,” he suggested softly, and your eyes snapped to his from your phone screen. You chewed on your bottom lip in consideration before nodding slowly.

“From everyone but you,” you said, and his heart broke and beat faster at the same time. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before doing as you had requested. You turned your phone off when he handed it back to you, but he didn’t comment on it.

Twenty minutes later, you laid facing each other in bed. One arm was tucked under your head, the other draped over your hip. He slipped his hand beneath the thin material of his shirt you were wearing to glide his fingertips gently along the skin of your lower back.

“Is this my fault?” you whispered, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear you. But he did, and his heart broke at how meak and small you sounded; you were neither of those things.

“No. Absolutely not.”

You averted your gaze for a quick moment, but it’s enough for Bradley to know that you didn’t believe him. He said your name softly, waiting for you to look at him. Even in the darkness, it was obvious that your eyes were bloodshot, tired and weary. He had never seen you look so exhausted and dejected before.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“But my phone -”

“No,” he interrupted sternly, his voice sterner than he had ever used with you. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Your crying, panicked face from earlier flashed in his mind and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of it. “This is not your fault. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to do it. And even if you did, this is still all on him. He was the one who made the decision to do what he did. Him. Not you.”

You nodded slowly, but you still had a faraway, thoughtful look in your eye. Bradley sighed, bringing the hand that was on your back to your face. Your eyes fluttered shut and you turned your face just slightly, like you were trying to get closer to his touch. “Tell me that you know that, Bug. Please.” He needed you to understand this so badly, he practically held his breath waiting for you to respond.

“It’s not my fault,” you finally whispered, and Bradley let out a rush of air. He nodded, and you scooted closer to tuck yourself against his body.

____

Bradley didn’t sleep well that night. Nightmares plagued you, and after the first time he woke to you screaming, he found that he was unable to fall back to sleep. Instead, he laid there with his arm around you, wondering how this could be happening.

He had known something was off about that guy from the very first time he saw him that night when you had approached him in the bar. Even then, when Bradley’s mind was trying to catch up to the fact that you were in front of him, that you had just kissed him, he could tell. The look in the other man’s eyes had left him unsettled. He had looked at you like you were a possession. And then you told him more about him. Red flags had waved right in his face, but you had assured him that you had it handled, and that it would all be okay. You had honestly believed it yourself.

Bradley had gotten caught up in being back together with you. He had let that happiness and that unwillingness to risk losing you again for being overbearing and overprotective blind him to the fact that there was this big of a threat. And instead, he risked losing you in a whole different way. He was so pissed at himself for not laying the guy out flat when he had the chance. He knew after that second run in with Paul at the Hard Deck that this went beyond being a creepy crush from someone who couldn’t take a hint. He knew, and what had he done? But god - even when he imagined it could be bad, he never anticipated it would be at this level. This was something out of a nightmare.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist so tightly he could feel his fingertips digging into his palm. His untouched palms, whereas yours were scraped up from running away from a man who had entered your home while you were sleeping. Defenseless. Alone. That was two weeks ago now; he wondered how many times he had done it before or since.

Had he watched you change? Seen you in a way that no one should without your explicit consent? Did he watch the way that you put lotion on starting from the bottom and working your way up your body? Or the way you tended to hum the jeopardy theme music when you brushed your teeth? Did he watch the way you throw your mountain of throw pillows onto the chair in the corner before you crawled under the weighted blankets you slept with, no matter the temperature outside? He wondered where the despicable man had hid, waiting for you to fall asleep. How long had he stood there over your bed, watching you, seeing the rise and fall of your chest? What had he been thinking as he did? What had he done -

He forced himself to stop. He feared that if he opened that box, he’d never be able to calm down, and that’s not what you needed from him right now.

He glanced down at you, curled up against him. He could feel little puffs of air against his chest as you breathed. Your nose twitched and there was a wrinkle on your forehead. He couldn’t help but rub his finger over the line, trying to sooth it. He almost smiled when you seemed to relax at his touch, even just slightly. He buried his face in your hair, letting his eyes close as he breathed you in.

You didn’t deserve this. You were his beautiful, vibrant, wonderful girl, and you didn’t deserve this.

The sky was still dark on Sunday morning when Bradley slipped out of bed. You had just fallen back to sleep after another nightmare not too long ago, and he hoped you were able to get a few more hours of rest at least. He grabbed his laptop on the way into the kitchen, and after making himself a cup of coffee, he spent the next hour researching all of your options and finding all the appropriate forms you would need to fill out and take to the court house in the morning. When the sun had finally risen, he picked up his phone and called Phoenix.

“You better have a damn good reason to be calling me so early in the morning, Bradshaw.”

Her voice was groggy and he knew he had woken her up, but he would feel bad about that at another time. “That woman you’ve been seeing the last few months, Sadie, who you won’t admit you’re dating -”

“We aren’t -” she tried to interrupt, suddenly sounding a lot more awake, but Bradley pushed on.

“She’s a lawyer, right? Here in San Diego?”

His best friend was quiet for a beat. When she answered him, her voice was slow and suspicious. “....Yes. Why?”

“Can you give me her number?”

“Rooster, what the hell is going on?” She sounded more than just suspicious now. Bradley knew it wasn’t his story to tell, but he also knew you were so overwhelmed and stressed that you were up half the night with nightmares. His mind flashed back to the near hour long panic attack you had yesterday; this wasn’t something you needed to do for yourself right now, not when he could handle it for you. So he told Phoenix the short version of everything, and when he was done, she was spitting out curses like a fresh recruit had just cut her off in the air.

“Nat,” he called, trying to rein her in. “Her number?”

She sighed and then let out a resigned groan on the other end. “I put you on speaker phone halfway through. I’m handing her the phone now.”

It seemed the other woman really had been listening in, as she launched into questions right away, neither of them wasting time on pleasantries. Bradley went further into detail about everything, answering everything he could to the best of his ability while writing down the ones he couldn’t.

“I’ll be honest, Bradley. Without concrete physical evidence, a protection order is 50/50. It’ll depend on what judge it gets put in front of. Purely technically speaking, it’s all just hearsay right now. But it will take a few weeks for a court date, anyway. I’d suggest she file for a temporary order, too. That’s more immediate - she’d find out the same day.”

That wasn’t what Bradley wanted to hear. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What are her chances for that?”

“Stronger. Paul will be served with papers either way, so she needs to prepare herself for that, especially if the temporary ex parte is denied. He’d still be allowed to be around her. At work or -”

“She won’t be going back to work.”

He could practically see Sadie raise an eyebrow through the phone at how direct his statement was. He didn’t care if he sounded misogynistic or controlling. He wasn’t letting you go back there. Paul aside, they had put you through enough. And he was done letting people treat you the way they have been. Done.

To her credit, Sadie hummed out a quiet “good” and continued on.

He was on the phone with her for another 20 minutes. A lot of the legal jargon she was spouting off went right over his head, but she was patient each time he asked her to explain something. He took notes on everything to be able to answer any questions you had, later.

“I don’t usually work on cases like these,” she told him at the end, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. Talk to her, and if she wants to talk to me, tell her I’m more than happy to help. And if she’d rather someone who specializes in this, I can give her a few recommendations.”

Bradley felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease at her words. That’s not why he had called, purely just wanting information, but he couldn’t deny the gratitude he felt at her offer. He knew he still needed to talk to you about it, so he thanked her, telling her he’d reach out soon either way.

He went back and checked on you once he had hung up. You were still sound asleep, cuddled up under his duvet, your head on that stupidly expensive pillow case he hadn’t thought twice about buying. You were safe, and for right now at least, sound.

He stood in the doorway and watched you for a minute. Looking at you always made him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest with how much he felt for you. He had never felt even close to this way for anyone else, ever. You were the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the morning and the last thing on his mind when he fell asleep at night, and more often than not, all the times inbetween, too. You were everything to him. All he wanted was to keep you safe. To support you and comfort you, and be by your side through both the good and the bad.

To love you.

He took a shaky breath and after one last long look, he turned and went back to the kitchen. He made another phone call as he poured his third cup of coffee for the day.

“Hey, Mav. I know it’s short notice, but I need some time off.” He could hear the concern in his godfather’s voice when he asked him if everything was okay. Bradley glanced back to his bedroom again, and then over at his computer screen where there were over a dozen tabs open about different stalking and harassment laws in California. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed thickly. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

Bradley was glad he had moved back to the bed with his laptop after his phone calls, because when you jerked awake about an hour later, your eyes were wide with fear.

“Hey, it’s okay,”

Your frantic eyes darted around the room before settling on him. You seemed to relax once your brain processed that you were conscious and here in bed with him, and you gave him a small, if somewhat embarrassed smile.

“Hi,” you whispered. Your voice came out as more of a croak, thick from disuse and he would guess all the crying from yesterday. You rubbed at your eyes like you were trying to rub away the remaining exhaustion you still felt. “What are you doing?” You gestured to his laptop and Bradley sighed.

“Just some research, but we can talk about it later. You want coffee?”

You looked like you were contemplating arguing with him, demanding whatever information he might have now. But in the end you just nodded. You went to throw the duvet off, but Bradley stopped you with a hand covering yours. He leant down and kissed you softly.

You hummed against his mouth and when he pulled away, a genuine smile tugged at your lips.

“Morning, Bug.”

“Morning, B.”

He told you about his phone call with Sadie after you had finished your coffee and the peanut butter and banana toast he made you for breakfast. You chewed on your bottom lip as you listened to him. He could see the wheels turning in your head and hated when your eyes started watering again, but you took a steadying breath and nodded.

“Thank you…for handling that for me. I’ll call her later, okay?”

“Of course, baby.”

A sudden knock at the door startled you, your eyes widening as your head whipped toward it. He winced, laying his hand over yours on the table and rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin of your fingers.

“It’s just Hangman and Coyote. I called Jake earlier, and they stopped by and grabbed your keys. They went and got your car and brought it back here.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I - sorry.”

Bradley sighed, standing from his seat. He stepped to where you were sitting and leant to press his lips to the top of your head. “Don’t apologize. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll talk to them?”

You nodded, and Bradley watched you retreat back to his bedroom as anxiety churned in his stomach. He understood why you were so skittish, but god damn if it didn’t make his blood boil all over again.

The next few hours are spent filling out all of the forms for the restraining order you would be filing in the morning, and talking to Sadie on the phone again. You cried again when the woman, who you had never met before, said she was happy to help you without expecting anything in return.

“I finally convinced Natasha to show me off after talking to your man earlier,” she had joked, managing to get a quiet snort of laughter from you, “So buy me a drink and teach me how to navigate getting all of these aviators to like me, and we’ll call it even, okay?”

Bradley’s shocked when you’re the one who brought up going back to your place to get some of your things. You looked like you would rather be saying anything else.

“We can buy you new stuff,” Bradley offered, though he knew it was a weak option. By the huff you let out and the quirk of your lips, you knew it, too.

“My work laptop is there,” you said, taking a deep breath. You snapped the hair tie on your wrist twice in quick succession before he reached out and stopped you, like he had done so many times before. “I have an absurd amount of paid time off accumulated,” you explained, voice quiet. “I should have used it before. But I’m going to email Gretchen and tell her I’m taking some of it. I…I can’t go back there right now.”

Bradley felt so much relief that he didn’t have to talk you into it or force your hand - it was the last thing he had wanted to do. He decided he would wait to bring up you never going back there, regardless of having another job lined up or any remaining paid time off. This would work for now, and he would cross that bridge when you got to it, if necessary.

Your breathing started getting heavier the closer you got to your house. By the time he pulled into your driveway, your fingernails had nearly torn the skin of his arm where you were digging in from your spot in the middle of the bench seat.

“Bug,” he said softly once the Bronco was in park. “You don’t have to go in. We can figure something else out. Or you can just tell me what all you need and -”

“No,” you insisted, swallowing thickly and shaking your head. You took in a deep breath through and let it out slowly. “I can do it.”

You looked determined when you met his eyes, even if he could see the worry there, too. He wished more than anything he would never have to see that look in your eyes again.

He kissed you there in the front seat, letting his forehead rest against yours for a moment. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” he reminded quietly.

Bradley watched you closely once you got into the house. He held your hand tightly as you walked to your bedroom. You froze once you stepped into the room, your eyes trying to look everywhere all at once. He could tell your breathing was starting to come quicker as panic crept up. He took it upon himself to open your closet doors. Some of his own tension slipped away when he did, and he wondered if subconsciously you had both been bracing yourselves, expecting Paul to be waiting there in the small confined space. Still, Bradley didn’t want to linger here any longer than necessary. He grabbed your suitcase and set it on your bed for you, and together, you filled it and another duffle bag with enough to last you for a while. He could see your hands shaking as you collected your skincare and some of your makeup from the bathroom counter.

All in all you were probably only in the house for maybe ten minutes, but he can tell it left you rattled, even if you tried to keep your composure. You were quiet on the drive back to his place and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you swiping a tear off your cheek. He settled a hand on your thigh, hoping it provided you some sort of comfort.

Despite the fact that you had gotten one earlier that morning, after you sent the appropriate emails informing your awful boss about your time off, you took another shower. He had to swallow down his own emotions when you quietly told him that being back there made you feel dirty, knowing what you know. You were in there for over thirty minutes and Bradley nearly crawled out of his own skin as he waited for you. When you finally emerged, he could tell that you had been crying again. He watched as you pushed the chicken he had made for dinner around your plate, struggling again with an appetite.

He wished he could take you away from all of this.

“How do you feel about taking a trip somewhere?” he found himself asking, the idea only coming to him as the words came out of his mouth. You lifted an eyebrow in silent question. “Somewhere just the two of us. Away from the city.”

“You have work,” you rebutted quietly.

“I put in for leave.” He could tell you were surprised by that by the way your eyes widened and that you were about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, so he continued on before you could. “I think it would be nice, even if it’s just for a few days.”

You took a bite of your food as you thought it over. You were hesitant, but after a minute, you shrugged, offering him something of a smile and a small nod. “Okay.”

------------------

Part Ten :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I think they've definitely earned some time away. I hope it's peaceful for them.

Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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