cotton comfort


Character sheets for the Dragon Shapeshifter yoi AU  (^▽^)

 @rowenthegreat is writting an story based on the AU. Please read it in his AO3!


-Viktor is basically soft bdsm inspired. All is leather except pants which are cotton for comfort.

-Yuuri’s kimono has golden embroidery like this type x. They are very pretty. The kimono is tucked under the obi at the back.

lovelytitania  asked:

Yuuri and Victor got too drunk in Sochi and decided they really hit it off, so they got married. Right there. Victor cries because his new son vicchan passed away before he even met him...

Victor Nikiforov tries to make it a point in life to not have any regrets.

So marrying Katsuki Yuuri is definitely not going to be one, if he can help it.

“Victor,” the man giggles now, poking his cheek. “Your turn.”

He’s so, so beautiful. A drizzle of champagne drying on his chin, that god-awful tie wrapped around his hair. His shirt wrinkled, half of its buttons gone. His trousers, entirely disappeared.

(Victor likes that. He likes that he’s marrying a man who’s not wearing any pants. He’s so trendy. Always doing things no one’s done before, surely. He can’t wait to tell Yakov, already eagerly anticipating the strangled sigh-groan-combination that’s become sweet music to Victor’s ears.)

“Your vows, Vic-Victor,” Yuuri prompts him, his laughing mouth relaxing into a small smile on his perfect, perfect face.

Victor blinks. “Right.”

He glances at the minister, who is smiling very politely at them. He’s a bit red-faced from having a wad of rubles thrown at him to “marry us right now, пожалуйста, right now, right here, onegai.“ The man had pointed them towards some preliminary paperwork, asking them several times, “Listen, you have to sign here but are you absolutely sure—”

The looks that they gave him shut him up right away.

“I’m marrying this man,” Yuuri had announced. “So hard. I’m marrying him so, so hard, and then afterwards…” He hiccupped. “Afterwards, I get to take him back to the hotel and-and…”

Yuuri went on to describe in full detail—or in as full a detail as a man pumped full of two bottles of champagne can go—several lovely, intimate, exhaustive courses of action that he also swore he would do so hard. It was perfect (everything he does is so perfect), the minister said he appreciated it, and Victor found himself nodding along tearfully and crashing hard, the impact greater than any fall he ever made on the ice but softer than the thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton comforter he falls into every night that he’s back home in St. Petersburg.

Which reminds him.

“St. Petersburg, Yuuri,” he says excitedly, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him close. “Can’t wait to take you home, show you around, you’ll get to see Makkachin and—you have a dog, right? You’ll bring your dog, and we’ll…”

Yuuri’s eyes fill with tears. “Vicchan is dead.”

“Vicchan? Oh, that’s so cute, that’s like my name, maybe we can  make Makkachin’s middle name Yura, then, except—” Victor stops. “Did you say dead?”

Yuuri nods, clutching fistfuls of Victor’s shirt, tears streaming steadily down his face now. “He… there was…”

Perhaps the only regret he’ll have of tonight, then, is learning the news that he’ll never get to see his son and namesake, but he includes in his vows several animals that they’ll raise together, along with the names of four children that he’d decided on since thirty-eight minutes ago. Yuuri sloppily wipes his face with his wrist, pushing his glasses up adorably before adjusting them back on his perfect, perfect nose and saying with a cracked voice and a perfect, perfect smile—

“I do.”

Shorts (Isaac Lahey Imagine)

Summary: So you brought these amazing shorts at Y/F/S (your favourite/favorite shop) and they look amazing on you, Isaac thinks so too. But when you wear them to school, Isaac can’t keep his hands off of you.

Pairing: Isaac X Reader 

Warning: Slight Smut

Fandom: Teen Wolf 

Season: Season 3 PA

Originally posted by laheys-girl


“So what do you think?” You asked Isaac your boyfriend. You both decided to go shopping for clothes, he wanted to but more scarves to go with his winter coats (which he looks hot in btw). And you did manage to buy scarves…a lot I should say.  

Isaac hums as he looks at the shorts. They were the colour/color of jungle faded green with the fabric of cotton, which they’re really comfortable by the way.  

“They look perfect on you, they match the grey scarf and the denim blue jacket that you’re wearing too. And the white shirt on it makes it look incredible.” He said as you laugh at him. He frowns as he looks at you. “What? Is it bad that I know some fashion taste Y/N?” He said as you smile widely and walk over towards him.  

“No, it’s a good thing.” You said as you brushed your lips against his own as he places his arms around your waist. You pull away and smile at him. “I’ll get them then. And then after that, want some Mexican?” You asked as he didn’t even need to think. 

“You don’t ask me a stupid question like that, scarves and Mexican food are my life.“  


So you brought the shorts, and your wearing them at school too. All the boys wouldn’t stop look at you, because of them shorts. And let’s just say that… Isaac is totally jealous. Especially when he catches some boy staring, he immediately gives them a death stare or threatens them. Let’s just say that some of the boys are now terrified of Isaac. 

Isaac wasn’t having some horny teenage boys touch his girlfriend, you are his, his girlfriend. And he’s gonna make sure that everyone knows that you’re his. 


You went to your locker to grab your books out for today. You pull out your maths textbook and exercise book, your history book and English book. Oh the joy of school is carrying so much stuff but then putting it in your locker (lucky we don’t have lockers at my school). 

You close your locker but then all of a sudden you feel a body pressed against your own. His strong arms placed gently against your hips, his strong built body pressed against your own, his soft yet wet lips pressed against your neck. You knew who this is, well because you can tell that he’s slouching down just to kiss your neck. It was your tall giant of a boyfriend Isaac Lahey.

“Isaac!” You moan as he bites down harder on your soft delicate skin. “Isaac stop!” You push him away giggling at him, your small hand on his built chest. “We’re at school.” You said, stating the obvious.

“Well, who’s fault is it to wear those shorts?” He says in a husky voice making you bite down on your lip, blushing like a maniac. He grabs your hand and starts walking, you drop your books since he’s basically dragging you like a rag doll. 


You and Isaac walk into the boys locker room where you both can have privacy. Isaac pushes you against the wall, sucking your neck making you moan as he finds your sweet spot. You place your knee on his thigh as his hand goes up your shirt. 

You gasp feeling his slender hands creep up there. You can basically feel him smirking against you. He stops kissing your neck and removes the shirt off of you. He stays still staring at you. You started to feel uncomfortable and awkward. You blushed as you try to cover yourself up, but Isaac stops you by grabbing your hands. 

“What are you doing?” You ask in a whisper making him chuckle at you. He pulls your hands down and he stares down at you (well he’s a giant duh!) 

“I’m admiring you, you’re beautiful.” He says sweetly as you blush, you smile sheepishly as you look away from him. He lifts your chin to make you face him, his beautiful crystal blue eyes look straight down at your own beautiful E/C. “I love you.” He says out of the blue as he kisses your neck. 

“I love you too.“ 


“Guys I think that Y/N is missing!” Exclaims Stiles as he looks over at his friends, Scott frowns at him as Stiles rolls his eyes and shows him your books that you dropped earlier. “I think she was kidnapped?” He said as Lydia frowns at him. 

“But Y/N can take care of herself, she’s a hunter remember?!” She said as Allison nods looking over at her. 

“Yeah but what if it was the Derach? What if that thing got her?” Stiles said as he starts to freak out, possibly having an heart attack. 

“Wait.” Scott says as everyone stays silent. He then looks up at everyone. “She’s still here.” He said as Stiles sighs in relief. 

“Well thank god!“ 

“She’s in trouble! Same with Isaac!” Scott said as he starts running, Stiles stares having a look saying ‘are you serious?’ And then starts chasing after him, not long with Lydia and Allison behind him. 

"I don’t really care about Isaac.” 



“Isaac!” You moaned as he shoves into you on the wall. Your hands on his back, making marks on him that will soon heal. But for you, this won’t heal until about a month or so? His lips are attached onto your neck, making love marks on there so everyone knows that you’re his and no one can have you. 

He pulls out of you breathing heavily as he places his head on your shoulder to rest, your head leans back against the wall. You take time to adjust what just happen, you try to catch and settle your breathing but after what you just witnessed, it might take some time. 

“I love you.” Isaac says kissing your lips softly but passionately, it was like the last time you’ll ever kiss him. 

“I love you too.” You say between breaths making him chuckle. He gets up and throws you your clothes as you catch them and started to get dressed. 

You managed to put on your panties, bra and shirt while Isaac puts his boxers on. Then all of a sudden you heard a door slamming and running. 

“Y/N! ARE YOU HERE?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHERE ARE YOU?!” You hear a frantic Stiles yell, you then look up to see Stiles, Scott, Lydia and Allison looking at you and Isaac not even fully dressed yet. 

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks as he sees you without any pants and Isaac just wearing his boxers. 

“Oh god, Isaac put some clothes on.” Stiles says shielding his eyes away from the both of you. 

“Oh Stiles you’re just jealous that I have more muscles than you.” Isaac remarks as he puts pants on. You stand there like an idiot blushing like a maniac. 

“Clearly you guys aren’t in trouble. Just two hormonal teenagers.” Lydia says but mumbles the last part as she walks out, same with Allison and Scott. 

“We do not speak of this out side of this room got it!” Stiles says as Isaac folds his arms and leans against a wall. 

“Sure.” He says as Stiles walks out running to catch up with Scott. 

You and Isaac look at each other as you walk over towards the mirror and looked at the marks on your neck, your eyes widen. 

You soon feel Isaac against you hugging you from behind. But you had other ideas. You turn and slap Isaac on his bare chest making him hiss. He looks at you confuse like a puppy. 

“What was that for?” He asked you as you raise a brow look at him.

“How am I gonna cover these up Isaac?” You say as you try to cover them up with your hair. But Isaac had other ideas. He moves your hands away and moves your hair away as well. 

“Don’t, I want to let everyone know that you’re mine.” He says smiling as you blush. Isaac then walks over to grab his shirt and your shorts as he throws them at you which you managed to catch. “Oh, and don’t wear them shorts in school. Or I’ll find something to punish you.” He says smirking at you. 

You stand there blushing and biting down on your lip as you put your shorts back on. 

I guess that you can’t ever wear those shorts again?


was never much one for playing the odds

A little birdie might have suggested that it was recently @moonfox22’s birthday and also that she needs hugs and love and good things.

I wrote this instead of working on my Camp project because Priorities™.

Blind date; insufficient underwear; luck of the sannin. Kakasaku. Smut. What is consistent tone.

Sakura tugs at the hem of her dress and scowls.

It’s not the length of the skirt that’s bothering her; Sakura is proud of her legs, thanks.

It’s that Ino broke into her apartment two days ago and stole almost all of her underwear. Apparently, cotton boy shorts with smiling fruit on them “aren’t appropriate for a woman over the age of seventeen, seriously, what the hell Forehead, your pink hair is bad enough.”

Which, okay, rude. There’s nothing inherently juvenile or girlish about pink hair, Ino. Sakura gets her hair colour from her grandfather. It’s gender neutral.

And Sakura is more than willing to fight anyone who disagrees.

She’ll even do it without chakra.

Anyways, Sakura’s underwear.

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The Exchange

This one is for my darling Heather, @jalove-wecallhimdean. Congrats on your 500 my sweet, i envy those lucky buggers that get to discover you for the first time. But at the same time, I am so glad I was there for the beginning of your posting!
Also, THANK YOU to Jenn for being an brilliant beta. @avasmommy224 couldn’t have posted without you soothing my worried mind!

Prompt: “You full on had a girl inside you for like a whole week”
Warning: Body Swap, swearing, attempted humor, rejection, fluff, confusion, masturbation, hinted smut…?
Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam
Word Count: 5264 (kinda got away from me)
Summary: A nasty curse from a Warlock leaves you and Dean scratching each others heads and Sam mighty confused…

Originally posted by lexarakoon

That fucking warlock. Oh man, had he been a hard one to put down! It had taken all week. Spells were cast, spells were undone. Hex bags were planted, hex bags were burnt. It’d been physically wearing too, being thrown from one bloody wall to another. Christ, this guy just had a hard on for bodies slapping against plaster.
I groaned and rolled onto my back, not opening my eyes just yet, today could wait. I lay there for a while before stretching, and it was a bloody good stretch too; leg shaking, arm tingling, back cracking, good. I yawned wide, cracking my dry lips. I licked at it, feeling the swell of a bigger cut. I don’t remember splitting my lip. I push that thought from my mind and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, grinding out the sleep and yawning again, but I stop, surprised, halfway through. My fingers have rested on my hair, what should be my long hair; but it’s short and spiky and …

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Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #27

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Finally one that’s pretty much just a week after the last one. There’s a lot of fluff this week, and a gratifying amount of Hunk, though it’s still never quite enough.

Must Surely Be Learning by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)
Words:  2,717 IWIP 1/6)
Author’s Summary: 5 things Shiro learned, and one thing he’s still getting the hang of.
My Comments: I just love Boss’s gen fics so much. This one starts off with Shiro doing a sort of low-g dancing/acrobatics. Beautiful imagery, and Lance was adorable and charming, though his small talk with Keith was predictably strained.

The One with a Blanket Fort by isabeau25
Words: 1,485
Author’s Summary: The children build a fortification to keep Keith’s bad day out. Written for Voltron Fluff Week.
My Comments: Continuation of a series in which Shiro is literal space dad and the other paladins are literal children. Utterly adorable, as always. Toddler Pidge is especially spot-on, and the others are as sweet as cotton candy.

comfort food by finaljoy
Words: 3,528 (WIP 2/?)
Author’s Summary: Hunk was fine being the team cook, but he didn’t expect to also become the team therapist, solving problems one bit of advice and delicious meal at a time. He didn’t really mind, though. After all, it was like his mom always said; good food filled the stomach and the soul.
My Comments: Hunk is the best. This is not debatable. I love how all-out he goes just on the simplest requests to help his teammates feel better. Also love the interaction with Lance in this one.

The Meadows of Asphodel by Genesister (papirini)
Words: 21,006
Author’s Summary: Deep in the heart of a mysterious enemy’s territory, some time after their victory over Zarkon, Lance is on bridge duty. As the vargas of the night cycle slowly crawl by, he thinks back to moments during their sojourn in this sector of space - and ponders his own place on a team without their two strongest members. A small interquel to The Garden of Heaven. Tags will be added as the work proceeds.
My Comments: Set in the same period as a previously recced fic. This one shows the rest of the team struggling without Keith and Shiro, with an especial focus on Lance and how he fights to fill their shoes and feels like he’s failing. Lovely character interactions throughout.

Best Friends by Kalira
Words: 1,550
Author’s Summary: Best friends should stick together, and that’s exactly what Hunk and Lance intend to do!(Or: Hunk and Lance built a blanket fort and talk about the future.)
My Comments: Cuuuute. I love Hunk and Lance as childhood friends being cuddly and mutually supportive.

Skin Care or Skin Scare by wingedflower
Words: 4,636
Author’s Summary: One thing that happens when you send both Lance and Allura to a space mall: they buy an entire cosmetics store. And of course Lance has to try ALL the new products he had purchased in search for the perfect moisturizer, even if some of the side effects prove that none of these things was actually meant for humans.
My Comments: Very fun, funny fic. It feels like an episode. Lance is adorable and also should not do that, but no one can stop him.

Night Shift by oldmythologies
Words: 1,873
Author’s Summary: Shiro wakes up in the middle of the night. Like usual.
My Comments: Shiro has a nightmare and Lance comforts him. I entered this fandom on this dynamic and I’ll always be happy to find more of it.

A Higher Form of War by windscryer
Words: 2,966
Author’s Summary: Pidge has a plan to combat Lance’s homesickness, but it’s going to take a team effort. After all that training and bonding and focusing they’ve done though? They’ve got this.
My Comments: Aww, fluffy teamy goodness! Complete with blanket fort and pillow fight! Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I especially loved how Allura and Coran joined in.

A Hunk of Hugs by Purplecoconutsmine
Words: 1,520 (WIP 1/?)
Author’s Summary: Hunk is the best at hugs, not so much at logical comfort.
My Comments: Hunk is the best. Have I mentioned that? Because he is.

Guardian (Princess) of the Forest by windscryer
Words: 2,376
Author’s Summary: Pidge doesn’t regret anything that led her to this place in her life. She couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried.Well, there is one thing she regrets.
My Comments: Garrison Trio! Hunk and Lance both go all-out to make Pidge look and feel like a Disney princess, as she deserves.

die but once by againstmygreeleaf
Words: 20,035
Author’s Summary: There’s no art to being armor. It’s more of a discordant knee jerk of an instinct. Four times Hunk takes one for his team, one time he takes one for the cause. Essentially a collection of gratuitous, self-indulgent Hunk whump.
My Comments: OMG, OMG, OMG, the absolute BEST Hunk h/c I have read in the fandom, ahhhh, it’s so good! The author does a great job of escalating the stakes from chapter to chapter, and also an excellent job with the other character, especially Lance, but everyone. Please please please read this and comment, so the author will feel encouraged to write more for this fandom. I WANT it.

Soul of a New Machine by StygianLotus
Words: 3,170 (WIP 2/?)
Author’s Summary: Lance had been living the same cycle of events over and over since he got captured by the Galra. After seven months with Haggar, the other Paladins finally manage to save him. However, they soon realize that Lance’s wounds run much deeper than they had hoped.
My Comments: Hmm, yes, another Lance torture fic. What can I say, guys. I still like ‘em, even if I’m embarrassed about writing my own. This one is well-written, and I’m in.

In the way knitting needles love yarn by Veto_power_over_clocks
Words: 8,869
Author’s Summary: Messing up and fixing things in three stages:1. Lance, Blue, and the art of hurting others through self-deprecation.2. Lance, Keith, and the Anatomy of Apologies.3. Lance, Blue, and pointing out the obvious.
My Comments: Pretty much the only fic I’ve read and liked with the concept of lion swapping, mainly because this one doesn’t go through with it, haha. I love Lance’s relationship with Blue, so so much .Sometimes, like any other relationship, it takes work. I also really liked Keith teaching Lance how to apologize.

The Sun is Rising Without you by Qpenguin98
Words: 3,252
Author’s Summary: Lance wakes up with a headache pulsing behind the eye mask. He walks late to breakfast still dressed in his pajamas, somehow feeling less rested than he did before he went to sleep. He’s not quite sure what he dreamt about, but he knows it wasn’t pleasant.
My Comments: Aw, poor Lance .Sometimes everything just gets to be too much. I’m glad Shiro was there for him, and everyone else in the end as well. Supportive team showing Lance love for the win.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

familiar by achieving elysium (Ogygia)
The Garden of Heaven by Genesister (papirini)
Handbook of Demonology by squirenonny for Pechat (now complete, cannot recommend it highly enough)
Taking One For The Team by ShiningRegalia
Gate Keeper by MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust) for cupcakelevi
As Color Fades Away by IcyPanther
Beautiful Minds by PotatoBender
Shifting Sands by Cardigan_Quincy
Mini Lions by Eastofthemoon
Masks by TiedyedTrickster
Weekend Guests by TheBeckster
Someplace Like Home by squirenonny
A Dream Away by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)
This Is New by TheHomestuckWhovian
Truce by kyanve
Playing Catch-Up by 5557

A Love Contained to Saturday Nights

Request: “Can I request Percival Graves x reader inspired by beyonce’s song “drunk in love”? i love your fics omg” + “Some real angst with Percival Graves which ends okay (fluffy)? I don’t know about the plot so I leave it to you just because you’re incredible. I need more Percy in my life thank you”

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Word Count: 2573

Warnings: ANGST

A/n: ok so I kinda stretched the lyrics a bit to make it fit the scenario I made up but I think it ended up fitting pretty well? Anyway, enjoy!

I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking

It always happened when you were drunk. Percival couldn’t have you any other way. You thought of it as both a blessing, and a curse; to have his body in the night time, then wake up in the morning alone, pushing down the feelings of regret and longing.

He only loves me when he’s drunk you thought every time the light beams through the curtains stirred you every Sunday morning. It had turned into a ritual of sorts, an almost cruel one. He would ignore you all week, then see you out with your friends on Saturday night down at the busiest bar in town. You’d have a couple drinks, become entranced once again by those deep eyes, then end up at your apartment. Every time you would wake up alone, the bedsheets cold and bare.

But when they were occupied, scrunched in your hands and warm under your sweaty bodies - those were the moments that made this whole arrangement alright. It had become an unspoken truce, that you would get a night of bliss with the man you loved once a week, and the other six days would play out as if you didn’t exist to each other. You had tried to talk to him at work, even catching him out of his office when you were both on your breaks to get coffee. But each time you encountered him sober it was like seeing a ghost, only a fraction of the man you’d once known. He treated you with respect, and was always polite, but was hurried when talking to you. He knew that if he looked at you for too long he would fall, carelessly, into a pitfall trap from which he could never recover. He was terrified of how you made him feel, and so locked you away until he could release the desperation for a time, concealed from the rest of the world by the strong stench of alcohol and cover of darkness.

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i crawled into my bed tonight under three blankets. my toes scraped against the cotton of my comforter as i shivered myself warm. all i could think was how much nicer climbing into bed would be if you were there too.

 So here’s my first request ! I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too terrible ! I put it under the cut bc it turned out a little longer than expected ???

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fic: yes a heart will always go one step too far

Anyway I started thinking way too much about how much I love the fact that Daryl’s gonna lie to Carol tonight, and this happened. It’s my usual rusty af, unbetaed pile of total smush, so be aware of that if you choose to click the read more. me @ me: yeesh

(The title is from ‘Go Places,’ by the New Pornographers. The song is so lovely:)

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Chapter 11~ The Cold Chamber

  “Alright, next test!” Stephan marked a rushed check on a chart column that said “vaccination type 1” Putting the clipboard down, he slinked over to the fox holding his arm in an uncomfortable grip with one hand and a Petri dish in another. Ffionn looked nervously at what bestowed upon the bunny’s hand. The Petri dish had what seemed to be tiny specks wiggling about. The fox turned away feeling slightly dizzy as Stephan carefully removed one of the specks placing it in a syringe.

“What is that?” Questioned Ffionn.

“What, this?” Stephan pointed at the syringe he was holding to see the fox nod nervously.

“Vaccinations are better tested when the patient is infected. You’ll be fine however don’t worry-” Ffionn’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I guess it’s not too much of a big deal. Stephan is a doctor after all, or at least proclaims to be.” Thought the fox anxiously in his head. Stephan reached out to grab the fox’s arm as sudden wave of dizziness mixed with chills trickled down his spine. The room began to slightly spin as Stephan’s figure grew fuzzy. Stephan frowned at Ffionn’s dramatic state and snapped at him.

“Do get ahold of yourself I haven’t even injected the serum-” he sneered nastily. Before Ffionn could open his mouth to speak a needle pierced his arm abruptly. Stephan smirked slightly as he watched the small fox cry out.

“That is all, you may be off now-” declared Stephan picking the fox up off the table and placing him on the ground. Ffionn felt a wave of nausea crashing down before him as he stumbled walking up rickety, makeshift stairs to emerge from the secret floor entryway closing it gently behind him. Stephan chucked as a wide grin grew on his face.

“and now; we wait.”

  Night had fallen over Lancashire. All was in an eerie, peaceful state. Dry tears became a crisp on Ffionn’s face as he tightly clutched a tattered, old teddy bear with an eye beginning to become unsewn. He winced in his sleep due to both arms aching horridly. The fox’s ear suddenly twitched as he heard a faint scratching sound down the hall. Too cowardly to get up at first, he dug himself deeper into the flowered quilts. But as the sound got louder, he decided the best thing to do was at least see what the source of it was. He was awfully curious of it as well. Standing up placing his teddy bear aside, he opened the door just to peek. But once he saw who it was, he hesitated no longer to see an old friend.

  “The dear peculiar figure!” Cried Ffionn gleefully running up to it. “Oh how missed your presence, I was gravely concerned for you. You could’ve caught a nasty cold back there guv'nor!” The fox attempted to hug the sticky ink figure before it dodged away.

  “Why, whatever is the matter?“ Gasped the fox appalled. The figure turned slowly staring at Ffionn’s chest. Almost as if it wanted something. It looked hungry as it’s eyes dripped in a salivating manor. Backing off with slight fear, Ffionn tried to make a break for it.

  "Forgive me guv'nor, I-I must be on my way now.” He stuttered meekly taking a few small steps backwards. The figure leaned towards the direction Ffionn was walking back to. At that moment the fox knew he was in trouble.

  “Don’t look at it, just ignore it and it will go away..” The fox told himself turning towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he set one foot out

  And ran.

  Glancing back as he ran towards the door, he saw the figure become disturbingly distorted. It’s face contorted at it snapped towards him hissing. The fox screamed in terror as he felt his body grow cold. Flustered and panicking, he tripped over one of his socks which became loose around his lower thigh. Laying helpless on the ground, he covered his face in fear dreading each second that ticked by. He prepared to meet his fate as he saw the peculiar and distorted figure charge closer.

 The fox awoke to the abrupt shaking of his body and Marinella standing before him with an annoyed look. As he felt tears well in his eyes, he forcefully hugged her close digging his face into the comforting embroidered cotton of her nightgown.

  "What on earth was all the commotion?“ She rasped. Being too flustered to speak, Ffionn only hugged her tighter breathing stiffly. Gently ushering him off, Marinella looked suspiciously at the wall next door.

  "Wait here.” She whispered stalking out the door quietly. After three abrupt knocks the elegant fox fixed the curls on her head as she waited for a response.

  "What-“ sneered the bunny.

  "Ffionn has been acting rather strange lately,” Marinella picked a bit of lint off her nightgown proceeding to flick it in Stephan’s direction rudely. “you wouldn’t happen to know why exactly…would you?” Stephan felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his spine tensing up.

  “Why- of course not!” He declared.

  "Is that so?“ Marinella chuckled. "He’s been spending an awful long time with you on your little ‘play dates’ coming back each time only to spew about nonsense and make believe creatures as ghosts and such.” Leaning in closer narrowing her bronze eyes, she studied the bunny’s face for lies.

  "I…..don’t know what you’re talking about!“ Proclaimed Stephan. "His foolish thoughts are his own. Now goodnight-” The bunny hurriedly tried to shut the door only to grind his teeth in annoyance as Marinella blocked it with her foot.

 "Tell me what’s wrong with Ffionn.“ Growled the fox. Her eye slightly twitched as she grew angrier cursing in her head at the bunny. Stephan chuckled nervously brushing it off once again.

  "Nothing! He’s perfectly fine I assure you~” He insisted so surely. The fox lowered her eyelids with a slight smirk as she slyly replied with a sneer.

  "Hmph, I guess you wouldn’t mind me asking him then.“

  "Wh-” the bunny started. Marinella turned flicking her tail at Stephan quite rudely as she made her way back to Ffionn who had fallen back asleep in the time she was gone.

  "Fi darling,“ cooed the fox nudging him gently. Ffionn startled awake with mucus dried to his nose and tears that became a crisp on his fur. Marinella sighed taking the end of her gown using it as a wash cloth to wipe his face gently.

  "Now,” she started. “I’d like to know what you and Stephan are doing when you’re gone for so long-” Ffionn felt something sinister. As if someone was watching him and everything he said. He had to be careful what he said.

  "W-why do you ask..?“ He questioned meekly.

   "This is a serious issue. Please be honest dear..” Her eyes grew tired only wanting to make sure her younger brother was safe.  

  "I-I…“ Started Ffionn. "Well you see, Steph and I-” something caught the fox’s attention off guard as he saw a blur of gold frantically moving in the corner of his eye towards the door. Looking over he saw Stephan waving his arms to get his attention. Ffionn shook his head in confusion as his brow furrowed. Marinella on the other hand, was busy picking excess lint off of her tail. It was an over obsessive tactic of hers.

  "Steph and I..we….do tests together for his work, a great team we are alright!“ Beamed the fox. Marinella slowly raised a brow before going back to removing lint. Ffionn looked over at Stephan with a gleaming smile for his approval only to see him silently draw his finger across his throat in anger before leaving. Ffionn gulped the fear bubbling up his throat as Marinella gently kissed him goodnight.

  The tired fox was about to shut his eyes, he heard quiet but hastily footsteps entering the room while a dark figure grew to look before him. They smelled of smoke and stale chocolate. Ffionn bit his lip as he hesitantly looked up at the figure.

  "You…nasty…little…mutt-” scoffed Stephan in immense disgust. The fox felt his heart palpitate as a cold drops of adrenaline slithered down his neck.

  "Spoiling our fun,“ He rasped eerily. ”my fun.“ The bunny’s head slowly turned down as his muted emerald eyes gleamed in the moonlight’s glow. He seemed to be shaking as he clenched his fists in anger glaring down at the fox. Ffionn felt his head beginning to spin wanting Stephan to simply go away. He figured if he waited it out long enough he would finally follow through.

   As the minutes disintegrated away  the two sat in an awkward and slightly eerie silence. Stephan’s short and quick breaths broke the silence as the floor creaked beneath his feet from him shaking so violently. Being so angry the bunny couldn’t help grabbing the fox so forcefully, yanking him down the hall. In alarm, Ffionn tried to scream but to no avail as the bunny’s large hands covered his mouth. Stephan stormed down to the lonely room with paintings where all of them were strangely upside down, and slipped into the secret floorboard opening down the steps and into the concrete walled room. Looking for a place to keep the fox, a cold chamber was the best option for the bunny as he violently opened one throwing the fox inside. The fox didn’t have time to call out before he was locked in, for who knows how long. Tears swelled in Ffionn’s eyes as he lay silently in one of the many boxes that smelled of metallic blood and flesh.

  "Steph..? Mari..? Anybody?” Ffionn cried weakly.

  "Please help me…“

Bring Me Back, Part One

Requested by Multiple Flubbles

There will be three parts to this fic. This part is mostly just angst. Yeah.

Suggested song for this fic: “Oblivion” by M83

“No!” you screamed, pounding your fists against the glass that separated you from the Doctor. “No! Doctor! Doctor!”

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be happening. But your chest screamed with the reality of it, with the pain, because you knew what was coming. If this happened (and it was happening, alright, sure as the sun rises), then you would never see the Doctor again. That realization burned your insides like fire and you screamed, rage and fear bundled into something primal and horrifying that pushed you beyond what was human. You pounded your fists so hard that skin broke and blood smeared the glass and you didn’t even feel it.


He was fighting, screaming your name.

“Bring her back!” he howled at the Cybermen who had ahold of him. “Bring her back! Don’t you dare take her, don’t you dare! Back off! Bring her back to me!”

Why couldn’t you break the glass? Why couldn’t you just break the damned glass?

You shrieked as you felt metal hands grab at you. They were pulling you, pulling you away from the Doctor, and fear jolted so harshly through you that it physically hurt.

“Doctor!” you cried out as you fought against them. “Doctor! Doctor!”

His head snapped in your direction. When his eyes found yours, the scream on your lips fluttered away, soft and soundless like a moth. There was fear in his eyes, terrible fear like you had never seen from him before, but worse than that was despair. You weren’t even gone yet, and he was in despair, which meant… which meant… that he already believed that you were lost. That your chances were less than even the Doctor would take, which meant that there was no chance at all.

In that moment, you should have been afraid for your life, or your existence, or something. Death by Cybermen was an awful thing no matter how they offed you. There were only so many options, and none of them were easy ways to go. But your heart dropped to your stomach and your stomach shot to your throat and your throat constricted and your ribs slid tightly into your gut like an iron corset, not because you knew that you were about to die a horrible death, but because you would never see the Doctor again.

You had promised. You had promised that you would never leave him. You had promised that to him. You had sacrificed your human life, your normalcy or any semblance thereof, because you loved him. Because he needed someone to stay.

He’s going to be alone. The thought stabbed into your mind like an icicle, cold and sharp and bright. He’s going to be alone.

There was the sharp sensation of pointed metal at the back of your neck, the echo of the Doctor’s wrathful screaming in your ears, and then there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And then the Doctor’s eyes opened.

He blinked rapidly, trying to find his bearings in the dark. The smell of laundry detergent filled his nose, stinging his ‘superior’ olfactory senses with its sharp chemical tang. Soft fabric slid along his skin, the surface under him had just enough give and spring to bounce on if he so pleased, and something that reeked of laundry detergent cradled his head. A pillow.

Bed. He was in bed. And if the burning pain in his throat was any indicator, he had been screaming.

The Doctor reached a hand out for you, searching the landscape of Kamalzan cotton sheets for the comforting warmth of your body. You didn’t sleep together, not by default, but whenever he had bad dreams, you came to him (or, occasionally, he came to you, asking if he could sleep in your bed like a scared child, and you always said yes and managed not to let him feel humiliated about it). He hadn’t woken up screaming, but his raw throat proved that he had been screaming at some point in the night, which meant you had probably come in awhile ago and settled him down without waking him up.

His wandering hand found only cold, twisted sheets.

“Sweetheart?” the Doctor rasped. Fear crackled through his gut and he scrabbled for the switch on the lamplight. He clicked it on and the yellow bulb nearly blinded him, but it was immediately apparent that you weren’t in the room.

Had you left to sleep in your own bed? Had you only stayed long enough to calm him down before leaving? That didn’t seen right. You never did that. But the sheets on the other side of the bed were cold and there was no indent in the mattress or the pillows to suggest that a second person had been in the bed that night. Which meant… well, it didn’t mean anything other than that you hadn’t gotten into the bed, which was highly unusual, but maybe… maybe you had foreseen his raw throat and went to get him some tea or something. Yes, you had done that before while he slept before. You wouldn’t have left him alone if you knew he would wake up, would you? Of course not. There was no reason for you to think this would happen. If he had slept through his own screaming, you probably hadn’t imagined that he would wake up while you went to make tea.

Feeling relieved and a little bit foolish, the Doctor relaxed against his pillows and tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of laundry detergent. He definitely wouldn’t be getting this kind again. It reeked of chemicals and overpowered every other smell in the room (including the faint scent of you that always clung to his bed after one of these nightmare-plagued-Time-Lord-support-system-sleep-over nights, and he was rather fond of that scent). He would just have to get some of that organic stuff from Orion.

The Doctor shifted onto his side. He felt sad, for some reason. It was probably because of the nightmare. It was all fuzzy in his mind now, but he recalled the sensation of despair. It must have been an especially bad one, to leave him with echo emotions.

Fifteen minutes passed. You hadn’t returned.

Twenty minutes.

Half an hour.

The Doctor stopped convincing himself to wait and slipped out of bed. He grabbed the blue robe hanging on the bedpost and pulled it on, synching the tie tightly around his middle. In this skinny body, everything felt too big for him (with the exception of his suit, which happened to be half a size too small). Oddly enough, the Doctor couldn’t find his slippers, so he was left bare-footed as he padded out of his room and down the hall.

Other than the deep hum of the TARDIS, everything was silent. If you were in the kitchen, there would be some noise. That only left your room, because you couldn’t be anywhere else, not at night.

The Doctor opened the dark wood door to your room and found it empty. Not just empty, though. The air was wrong, the smell was wrong. Even the bed was wrong - he could tell by the way the folds fell that you had dashed them aside and jumped out of bed, which was the norm whenever alarms went off in the TARDIS, but they had also been folded back. He blinked at the odd sight. You didn’t do that. It was the middle of the night. If you had heard him screaming, you wouldn’t have bothered to halfway straighten-out rumpled covers. And there was a tank top on the floor, one he recognized that you slept in… slippers were ignored under the bed, flannel bottoms were tossed across the far side of the bed. You had changed in a hurry. Why in the world would you have changed?

Something sharp and red prickled at the back of the Doctor’s mind. Oh. Oh, no, no, no.

The Doctor carefully pulled back the covers and slipped into your bed as gently as he could, trying not to disturb anything. Your bed smelled like you, but the smell was stale. Old, faded. You hadn’t slept in this bed for weeks.

The memories slipped back into his mind like fog over the ground, and the Doctor let out a quiet sob as the pain and loneliness of your absence reasserted themselves in his hearts. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so badly and he had tried to make himself forget, but he couldn’t. He clutched at your pillows and breathed in your scent as well as he could manage despite the tears that were closing his throat. He whimpered your name, calling for you, hoping against all hope that you would suddenly appear, or wake him up from this nightmare.

You had been dead for weeks. The Doctor was alone in the TARDIS.

“I hate you!” the Doctor spat at the console.

The TARDIS had, in her own mourning for you, allowed the Doctor to wallow in his hurt for a whole month. No more. She was kicking him out to adventure, to save someone, to something. To do anything, as long as it stopped him from trying to block his own memories and failing and breaking down into a sobbing mess over and over and over again.

“I hate you!” he snapped again. “Rassilon, I hate you, you meddling, heartless machine! You knew it wasn’t safe! You knew it wasn’t safe and you landed anyway and now she’s gone because of you!”

Silence answered the Doctor. He spat out more insults, including a litany of cusses from various language that insulted the TARDIS’s parentage, sexual orientation, offspring, physical aesthetics, personal character, and mother specifically. And then the Doctor broke down.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the side of the console. "I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t… I just can’t do this.“

The TARDIS decided to let him stay inside for just one more day.

The Doctor stared at the Cybermen in front of him and felt nothing.

"You took her,” he said, dangerously calm. He almost sounded bored. “You took my girl from me. That girl, do you know her name? I bet not. She was gonna be my wife. I’ve got the ring and everything. I was just waiting for the right moment to ask her.”

The Cybermen stared blankly, just as all Cybermen stared. They didn’t seem to care.

“I was gonna be happy again,” he stressed to them. “I was gonna be a better man. For her. But you took that from me, so now… what’ve I got to be a better man for? Y'know, I always try to save you poor gits, or to at least kill you nicely. Put you out of your misery. I know you’d be miserable, if you had feelings. But you took my girl. That means I don’t care anymore.”

He surged forward. The Cybermen that had stood so perfectly still all reacted at once, but one of them was down before it even got the chance to move. And then the second one was down just as fast.

And so it went.

“You alright, mate?”

The Doctor glanced up at the young man standing above him. Very young, mid-twenties by the look of him. Odd chin, floppy hair, bowtie. A pretty boy, definitely, with a strange smile, like he knew some brilliant secret that he was just dying to tell but still wouldn’t because it was too good to spoil.

 "I’m fine,“ the Doctor answered.

"Nah,” said the young man, flopping down to sit next to him on the park bench. Flop was a very good word for him. He was floppy. And sparky-eyed. "You’re not. I can tell. Go on, spill.“

The Doctor glared, adding a hint of the Oncoming Storm into the look. The man didn't seem one bit bothered. And then, because sometimes the Doctor just could tell, he thought that you might have liked this man. Maybe you would have liked him a wee bit too much, and that- that- oh, that would have made him jealous before, but now it just seemed sort of funny.

With a sigh, the Doctor sat back. "It’s a girl, alright? Just a girl.”

“Oh, it’s never just a girl,” the man corrected. Wise words from a puppy, the Doctor thought. "So, what? Breakup? Were you a rubbish date? Ooh, even better: you’re completely in love and she doesn’t even know you exist.“

"I lost her.”

“Oh, darn. Breakup is the worst option outta those.”

“No, she-” The Doctor scrubbed a palm down his face, angry with himself for talking to a stranger about this. But he just couldn’t stop, could he? "She died. There was an accident.“

"Ah.” The young man nodded sagely. “I see.”

“Do you?”

“My wife’s had some health problems,” the man admitted, shrugging in a way that made him seem uncomfortable with the broadness of his own shoulders. “We thought that she wasn’t gonna live half as long as me. We had to search all over the world for something to tack on a few more years to her life expectancy.”

Despite himself, the Doctor was curious. “Yeah? And how’s she doing now?”

“Funny story, actually. We went back to my hometown, in Ireland, and whaddaya know! They’ve got what she needs. She’s got full life expectancy now. She might even outlive me.”

The young man seemed so genuinely pleased with this that the Doctor couldn’t help smiling, just a little bit.

“Good for the both of you,” the Doctor said, softer and kinder than he had been before.

“Yeah,” the young man agreed. And then, unexpectedly, he patted the Doctor on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “Hey now, don’t you give up.  I’ll betcha that something good is just around the corner.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor said, and he didn’t believe it at all.

For some reason, the young man laughed.